Chapter 1 Today is my mother-in-law’s seventieth birthday. But instead of seeing the birthday girl sitting at the head of the table receiving congratulations, I saw her hunched over in the sweltering, 100-degree kitchen, spinning like a top to cook for a family of over twenty people. Sweat poured down her deeply wrinkled face, and she nearly fainted several times. Meanwhile, my father-in-law, Arthur, sat in the air-conditioned living room playing poker and cursing. “You old bat, why are you so slow? Are you trying to starve me to death?” My husband, Tom, chimed in, echoing his father. Watching my mother-in-law trembling as she carried a massive bowl of boiling hot braised pork, the fire in my heart instantly flared up. Since you guys don’t want to act like decent human beings, I’ll revoke your humanity for you. I stormed into the kitchen and snatched the bowl of braised pork right out of her hands. “Eat, eat, eat! Go eat at your own funerals!” … “Ah! I’m burning alive!” Arthur shot up from the sofa like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, clutching his ankle and howling in pain. The steaming hot braised pork was scattered all over the floor. The greasy, rich sauce flowed freely across the floorboards, and the savory smell, mixed with the stench of Arthur’s feet, instantly filled the entire living room. The previously bustling living room fell dead silent. All the relatives had their mouths hanging open, staring at me in absolute shock. Tom was the first to react. He stood up abruptly, pointed at my nose, and roared, “Chloe, are you crazy? Today is my mom’s seventieth birthday! What kind of psycho fit are you throwing?” “Oh, so you do know it’s your mom’s seventieth birthday?” I put my hands on my hips, my voice even louder than his, shaking the ceiling. “A seventy-year-old birthday girl, slaving away in the kitchen for a bunch of able-bodied giant babies like you? Aren’t you afraid of bad karma shortening your lives?!” I pointed toward the kitchen. My mother-in-law was leaning against the doorframe, her face pale as a sheet, sweating profusely, and looking at us with pure terror. Her clothes were completely soaked through, clinging to her emaciated back like a crumpled piece of paper. “Mom has been busy in the kitchen all morning without even a sip of water. And you guys? Enjoying the AC, eating watermelon, cracking sunflower seeds, and complaining the food is too slow?” The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I grabbed the fruit platter off the coffee table and smashed it violently onto the floor. Crash! Glass shards flew everywhere, terrifying a few bratty kids into bawling loudly. “What are you crying for? Cry again and I’ll throw you out!” I glared fiercely, and the kids instantly stopped crying, shrinking into the adults’ arms, trembling. Arthur recovered from the shock, shaking with rage. He pointed at me and cursed, “Rebellion! Total rebellion! Tom, is this the good wife you married? How dare she flip a table! Beat her! Beat this unfilial shrew to death!” Goaded by his father, Tom lost face. He rolled up his sleeves and was about to charge at me. “Chloe, you don’t know what’s good for you, do you? Apologize to my dad right now and lick the floor clean, or I’ll destroy you today!” I sneered, pulled a can of pepper spray from my purse, and gave it a quick spritz in the air. “Come on then! Who dares to lay a finger on me? I’ve got nothing to lose today. At worst, I’ll burn this house down and we can all die together!” My “mutually assured destruction” posture successfully intimidated Tom. He stopped in his tracks, his face dark with anger, caught between a rock and a hard place. At this moment, my mother-in-law shakily walked over, pulled at the corner of my shirt, and pleaded through tears, “Chloe… stop it. I wanted to do it. Mom isn’t tired. Don’t ruin the family harmony over me…” Seeing her so subservient only fueled my anger, but mostly, it broke my heart. This old woman had been enslaved by Arthur for fifty years. Her knees had essentially taken root in the ground; she couldn’t even stand up straight anymore. “Mom, don’t worry about it!” I grabbed her arm and forced her to sit down on the sofa. “Today is your birthday, and you should be sitting here waiting to be served! If anyone dares to make you work, I’ll make sure they swallow more than they can chew!” Seeing this, Arthur violently smashed the teacup in his hand onto the floor and roared, “Fine! Fine! Nobody cooks, right? Then nobody eats! Let’s all just starve!” “If nobody cooks, then nobody cooks!” I plopped down next to my mother-in-law, crossed my legs, and gave Arthur a side-eye. “I’m not hungry anyway. Let’s see who gets to eat a hot meal today!” Chapter 2 The atmosphere in the living room froze to the absolute limit. The braised pork on the floor still glistened with grease, looking like a mocking, smiling face. Tom’s older sister, Sarah, suddenly chimed in with a sarcastic tone. While patting her son, who had just been crying from fright, she rolled her eyes: “Oh my, what a display of authority from my sister-in-law. We don’t even act this arrogant in our own homes, and now we come back to our parents’ house only to be subjected to her moods. Dad, this is impossible to live with.” Sarah was the textbook definition of a “married daughter is like spilled water” type. Every time she visited, she only knew how to eat and take things, never stepping a single foot into the kitchen. Hearing his daughter complain, Arthur’s temper flared up again. “Tom! Are you dead? You can’t even control a woman? I think you’re trying to piss me off to death!” Caught in the middle, Tom’s face turned the color of pig liver. He turned to look at me, lowering his voice, and said through gritted teeth, “Chloe, are you done? So many relatives are watching, do you really have to humiliate me like this? Hurry up, go to the kitchen and whip up a few dishes, and we’ll let this go.” “Humiliate you?” I laughed out loud, exaggeratedly, as if I had just heard the funniest joke. “Tom, do you even have any shame left? You let your seventy-year-old mother wait on your entire family, and you think you have dignity? Your sister was born from your mother, did she lose her arms and legs? She comes back and just opens her mouth waiting to be fed. Is she a giant baby or disabled?” Sarah jumped up in anger: “Chloe, who are you calling names?” “I’m talking about you!” I glared right back, not backing down an inch. “Your mom has high blood pressure and a herniated disc, don’t you know that? Have you ever brought her a single pill when you visited? Besides your mouth, what else did you bring?” Sarah was rendered speechless by my retort and could only turn to Arthur, whining, “Dad! Look at her!” Arthur slammed his cane hard against the floor: “Absolute rebellion! In this house, I am the sky! If I tell you to cook, you cook! If you don’t, get out of the Lee family!” “Get out?” I stood up and stared coldly at this arrogant old man. “Arthur Lee, get your facts straight. I paid the down payment for this house, I pay the mortgage, and the deed has my name and Tom’s name on it. If anyone is getting out, it’s you!” Arthur was stunned. He had always thought this house was bought by his son. Tom, for the sake of his ego, never dared to tell the truth. Tom panicked and rushed over to cover my mouth: “What nonsense are you talking about!” I violently threw his hand off: “What? You dared to do it but don’t dare to admit it? With that crappy job paying three thousand a month, you can’t even support yourself, let alone this whole family of leeches!” “You…” Tom was so angry he raised his hand to slap me. “Hit me! If you dare to strike, we’ll see each other at the divorce office tomorrow!” I puffed out my chest and stared him down intensely. Tom’s hand froze in mid-air, ultimately lacking the courage to strike. He knew that if we divorced, he truly would be left with nothing. Just then, my mother-in-law suddenly started coughing violently, a heart-wrenching, tearing cough, her whole body curling into a ball. I quickly turned around to pat her back, only to discover that on the handkerchief in her hand, there was a shocking patch of bright red blood. “Mom!” I cried out in alarm, “You’re coughing up blood?!” The whole family froze. Arthur just glanced over and said impatiently, “What an act. A couple of coughs won’t kill anyone! She just wants to be lazy!” Chapter 3 That blood lay there, glaringly obvious. My mother-in-law’s face was ashen, her eyes unfocused, yet she still tried to hide the handkerchief behind her back. “I’m… fine. It’s just a sore throat…” Her voice was weak, like a mosquito, and her hands shook terribly. “A sore throat makes you cough up blood?!” I yelled, tears pooling in my eyes. “Tom! Are you blind? Your mom is like this, and you’re still thinking about food?” Tom was a bit panicked too. He leaned in to take a look, but then quickly seemed relieved. “It’s probably just her bronchitis acting up again. It’s an old issue. Just drink some water to soothe it.” “Bronchitis?” I looked at this man in disbelief. “When was your mom’s last medical checkup? Do you even know?” Tom stammered, unable to form a sentence. Arthur snorted coldly: “Checkup? Are hospitals places for healthy people? You go in perfectly fine, and they’ll invent a disease for you! This is just a disease of laziness!” Saying this, he actually stood up and kicked my mother-in-law on her shin. “Stop playing dead! Hurry up and go cook the rest of the food!” My mother-in-law cried out in pain, her body tilting, almost sliding off the sofa. That kick felt like it landed right on my chest. The string of rationality in my brain snapped completely. “Arthur Lee! Go screw yourself!” Like an enraged lioness, I lunged at Arthur, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him down onto the sofa. “Are you even human? That’s the wife who has lived with you for fifty years! Not your slave!” Arthur hadn’t expected me to actually lay hands on him. He turned pale with fright but still tried to act tough: “You… you dare to hit your father-in-law? You’ll be struck by lightning!” Sarah screamed and rushed forward to pull me off: “You crazy bitch! Let go of my dad! Call the police! I’m calling the police!” Tom also rushed over, wrapping his arm around my neck to drag me backward. “Chloe! Are you done being crazy?! That’s our dad!” I was being choked, thrashing my arms and legs wildly. My nails dug deep into Tom’s arm, leaving bloody scratches. “Let go! Cough, cough… I need to take Mom to the hospital!” “What hospital! Until this meal is finished, nobody is leaving!” Arthur broke free, straightening his messy collar, glaring at me viciously. “Want to take her away? Over my dead body!” He turned to his wife, his eyes dark and malicious: “Margaret, if you dare walk out that door with her, don’t ever think about entering the Lee family cemetery! I’ll consider it as never having a wife!” My mother-in-law trembled violently. That was the threat she feared most in her entire life. In her traditional mindset, not being allowed into the ancestral cemetery after death meant becoming a wandering, homeless ghost. She struggled to stand up, pushing my hands away, tears streaming endlessly. “Chloe… stop fighting… I’ll go cook… I’ll go…” She stumbled toward the kitchen, every step looking like she was walking on knives. Watching her hunched back, Arthur smiled smugly. “See that? These are the rules!” Chapter 4 The sound of intermittent chopping echoed from the kitchen. Arthur sat back on the sofa, crossed his legs, and pointed at the mess on the floor, saying to me, “Aren’t you going to clean this up? Are we waiting until New Year’s?” Sarah looked at me with schadenfreude. “Sister-in-law, in this house, Dad’s word is law.” Tom held his scratched arm, his face dark. “Hurry up and clean it, don’t let the relatives see this joke.” I stood in the center of the living room, listening to the chopping from the kitchen. That was my mother-in-law using her life to maintain the “face” of this family. I wanted to rush in and pull her out, but I knew that as long as that old bastard Arthur was around, as long as the shackles in my mother-in-law’s mind remained, I could save her once, but not forever. I needed to do something drastic. I took a deep breath and suddenly smiled. “Alright, I’ll take the order.” My tone abruptly shifted. “I’ll take it and shove it up your ass!” I turned and walked toward the kitchen. Tom thought I had relented and let out a sigh of relief. “That’s more like it. Family doesn’t hold grudges overnight…” I walked into the kitchen. My mother-in-law was struggling to slice a potato, her hands shaking so much she could barely hold the knife. “Mom,” I called out softly. She looked up, her face covered in tears. “Chloe, it’s none of your business. Mom can do it alone…” I didn’t speak. My eyes fell on the pot of chicken soup simmering on the stove. That was the “longevity chicken” prepared specifically for Arthur. I picked up the pot of boiling hot chicken soup and turned to walk out of the kitchen. “Hey? What are you bringing the soup out for? It’s not even done yet!” Sarah asked, confused. I walked over to Arthur, looking down at him. Arthur felt a chill under my gaze. “What… what are you doing?” “Dad, aren’t you hungry? Have some soup.” A cruel smirk curved the corners of my mouth. The next second, I flicked my wrist. Splash— The entire pot of boiling chicken soup, meat and all, splashed onto the genuine leather sofa Arthur was so proud of, and all over his old face. “Ahhhh—!!!” A scream like a slaughtered pig instantly pierced through the entire building. Arthur rolled on the floor clutching his face, his skin instantly turning red and blistering from the heat. “Dad!” “Grandpa!” Tom and Sarah rushed over like madmen. The scene instantly descended into chaos. I slammed the pot hard onto the floor, making a deafening crash. “That was just the appetizer!” I stood amidst the wreckage, looking at Arthur howling and rolling on the floor, and the relatives staring at me with terror as if I were a monster. The pent-up frustration in my chest finally began to release. “Arthur Lee, don’t you love being served? From now on, you can lie in bed and let people serve you all you want!” Tom, eyes red, lunged at me, still clutching that fruit knife. “Chloe! I’m going to kill you! How dare you burn my dad!” “Tom! Try moving one more inch!” I stood my ground, just pointing coldly at the kitchen door. “Turn around and look at what happened to your mom!” While everyone was fussing over Arthur, no one noticed that my mother-in-law, who had been forcing herself to chop vegetables just moments ago, had now slid softly down the doorframe, falling silently like a withered leaf. A pool of blood spread out beneath her, even more glaring than the braised pork on the floor earlier. Tom’s movements froze. He turned his head and stopped in his tracks. But after a second of hesitation, he actually turned back and yelled at me, “She must have fainted because you scared her! Save Dad first! His face is ruined!” At that moment, I heard the sound of my own heart breaking—not for Tom, but for that mother-in-law who had been foolish her entire life. “Fine, very fine.” I took out my phone, dialed 911, and then called the police. “Hello, police? There’s domestic violence here, and attempted murder with a knife. The address is…” Hanging up the phone, I looked at Tom’s twisted, frightening face and smiled. Chapter 5 The wailing sirens of the ambulance and police cars arrived. The house was as messy as a war zone. Arthur’s face was burned beyond recognition, and he was howling like a ghost. Sarah stood by, adding fuel to the fire as she cried to the police, claiming I was a lunatic who had broken in and committed assault. The police officer looked at the utter destruction and frowned. “Who called this in?” “I did.” I stepped forward, pointing to my unconscious mother-in-law being lifted onto a stretcher, then pointed to the old man still throwing a tantrum on the floor. “Officer, this old man has a long history of domestic violence and abuse against my mother-in-law. A seventy-year-old woman, severely ill, forced to cook. She coughed up blood and he still kicked and beat her. What I did was self-defense, and to save a life.” “Bullshit!” Sarah screamed and jumped up. “Officer, look what she did to my dad! She burned him! That’s intentional assault! You have to arrest her and throw her in jail!” Arthur, lying on the stretcher, groaned and cursed simultaneously: “Arrest her! Shoot her! This vicious shrew!” The officer surveyed the injuries on both sides. On one side, an old man with a face full of blisters but enough lung capacity to loudly curse someone out. On the other side, an old woman with a face like pale gold paper, weak breathing, and covered in old bruises. It was obvious at a glance who was the vulnerable one. “Take everyone back for questioning! Get the injured to the hospital first!” At the hospital, outside the emergency room. Tom and Sarah hovered around Arthur’s hospital bed, fetching water, fanning him, their hearts aching so much they cried. “Dad, does it hurt a lot? That murderous Chloe, she was too ruthless!” “Is my face ruined? How am I going to show my face in public?” Arthur grumbled, clutching his bandages. On the other side, the red light of the resuscitation room glared harshly. My mother-in-law lay inside, all alone. I was the only one waiting at the door. After a while, a doctor walked out, looking grave, holding a piece of paper. “Family of Margaret Lee?” I immediately went up to him. “I am! I’m her daughter-in-law! Doctor, how is my mom?” Hearing the voice, Tom over there merely glanced up, didn’t move an inch, and continued feeding his dad water. The doctor glanced at the apathetic children on the other side. A look of surprise flashed in his eyes, followed by a sigh. “The patient’s condition is very poor. Severe lung infection, accompanied by old rib fractures. Most critically, we suspect late-stage lung cancer due to long-term inhalation of massive amounts of cooking fumes, coupled with extreme exhaustion and malnutrition… The coughing up blood earlier was caused by a tumor rupturing.” Late-stage lung cancer. Those words hit my head like a sledgehammer. Long-term inhalation of cooking fumes. Yes, in this house, my mother-in-law was a human exhaust fan. To save electricity, Arthur never even let her turn the exhaust fan on high. She had served them in that smoky, suffocating environment for fifty years. “We must perform emergency surgery immediately to stop the bleeding, and then transfer her to the ICU for observation. The cost will likely be quite high. The family needs to go pay the fees.” The doctor handed me a slip. I pinched the thin piece of paper, my hands trembling. I turned around, walked over to Tom, and slapped the slip onto his chest. “Stop playing dead! Your mom has late-stage lung cancer and needs immediate surgery. Go pay the bill!” Tom froze for a moment, pulled the slip away to look at it, and his brow instantly furrowed into deep wrinkles. “Lung cancer? Late-stage?” Sarah leaned over and shrieked, “Late-stage? Doesn’t that mean she’s hopeless? Why bother treating it?” “What did you say?” I glared intensely at Sarah. Sarah spoke with absolute self-righteousness. “Well, isn’t it? Treating late-stage cancer is like throwing money into a bottomless pit! No matter how much you spend, it’s wasted! Besides, Dad’s face needs skin grafts, which will cost a fortune too! Where’s the money to treat a disease she’s going to die from anyway?” Arthur also stopped his groaning. Through the gaps in his bandages, he said viciously, “Don’t treat her! Treat my ass! I’ve been sick of looking at her for ages, a body full of poor-man’s diseases! If she dies, it’ll make room for me! Save the money to fix my face!” Tom held the slip, hesitating for a long time, finally looking at me with evasive eyes. “Chloe… my sister has a point. Mom is seventy, she can’t handle the trauma of surgery. How about… we just do conservative treatment? Take her home, give her some painkillers…” “Conservative treatment?” I laughed out of sheer anger, tears sliding down the corners of my eyes. “Tom, that is your biological mother! She collapsed because she was cooking for you! And now you’re telling me to give up?” “Then what am I supposed to do? We only have this little bit of savings, and we can’t just ignore Dad!” Tom spread his hands, feigning helplessness. “Savings?” I sneered and pulled a bank card out of my purse. It was our family’s shared salary card. Tom usually held onto it, but today, in my rush to leave, I had casually slipped it into my pocket. “Your so-called savings are all in this card, right?” Tom’s eyes lit up, and he reached out to snatch it. “Yes, yes, yes! Give me the card quickly, I need to pay Dad’s hospital bills!” I pulled my hand back, letting him grab empty air. “Want to use the money to save your dad?” Right in front of their family of three, I pulled a pair of scissors out of my purse. Snip! I snapped the bank card in half. “Want to spend my money? Keep dreaming!” Chapter 6 “Chloe! You’re crazy!” Tom stared at the bank card snapped in two, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. He dropped to his knees with a thud, desperately trying to grab the two pieces of plastic, as if they were his very lifeline. “That’s our entire family’s savings! How am I supposed to pay for my dad’s treatment now?!” Sarah shrieked and lunged forward to grab my hair. “You’re trying to kill my dad! I’ll fight you to the death!” I backhanded her, a sharp slap landing squarely on Sarah’s face. Her cheek swelled instantly. The sound was incredibly crisp, and the entire hallway went dead silent. “Want to fight to the death? Come on then!” I held up the scissors, my eyes fierce. “Didn’t get enough back at the house, did you? This is a hospital. I don’t mind sending you to the ER again!” Sarah clutched her face, stunned by the blow. Staring at the scissors in my hand, she backed away in terror. Tom clutched the broken card and looked up to roar at me: “Chloe, don’t push it! Even if the card is cut, I can just report it lost and get a replacement in a few days! This money is still mine! I’m the primary account holder!” “Yours?” I sneered, looking down at this average, overly confident man. “Tom, have you forgotten? With your dead-end job paying three thousand a month, you can barely afford your own cigarettes and alcohol. Which penny of the two hundred thousand on this card did you earn? I earned all of it, working from dawn to dusk running my online store!” “Have you ever heard of marital assets? Even if I burned it, half of it belongs to me!” I crouched down, stared straight into Tom’s eyes, and enunciated every word: “And you’re mistaken about one thing. The money on this card? I transferred it out ages ago. While we were on the way to the hospital.” “What?!” Tom’s face instantly went deathly pale, like he’d seen a ghost. “Where… where did you transfer it?” “This money is going to be used to save Mom. As for your dad’s old face…” I glanced at Arthur, who was listening intently on his hospital bed, and gave a cold laugh. “Figure it out yourselves. Isn’t Sarah the filial one? Let your sister pay for it. Doesn’t her family own a supermarket? She can’t pull together a few hundred thousand?” The fire instantly redirected to Sarah. Sarah jumped like her tail had been stepped on. “Why should I pay? A married daughter is like spilled water! I didn’t get a share of the family assets, why come to me for elder care? Tom, you’re the son, you must pay for this!” When Arthur heard the money was gone and he hit a wall with his daughter, he trembled with rage. He pointed at Tom and cursed: “Useless! Can’t even control a woman! The money was all taken! Are you trying to let me die of pain?!” Tom, caught in the middle taking heat from both sides, finally directed all his fury at me. “Chloe! This is illegal transfer of assets! I’m going to sue you! I want a divorce!” “Divorce! Let’s get divorced right now!” I stood up and dusted off my hands. “Whoever backs out is a coward! But Tom, remember this: before the divorce is finalized, whoever holds the money holds the power. You want to save your dad? Sure. Kneel down and beg me, kowtow to Mom three times, and maybe if I’m in a good mood, I’ll give you enough to buy some burn ointment for your dad.” “In your dreams!” Tom gritted his teeth. “Then just waste away here.” Just then, the doors to the emergency room opened. A nurse wheeled out a bed and called out, “Family of Margaret Lee! The patient is awake, but her condition is critical, she needs surgery immediately! Who is signing and paying the fees?” I immediately rushed over. “I’ll sign! I’ll pay!” I grasped my mother-in-law’s frail, thin hand. Her eyes were half-open, and cloudy tears slid from the corners of her eyes. “Chloe… don’t spend the money… Mom won’t be treated… save the money… for Tommy…” Hearing this, I burst into tears despite myself. “Mom! You’re foolish! You feel sorry for him, but what is he doing? He’s calculating how to pull your plug to save money so he can fix his dad’s face!” My mother-in-law trembled, struggling to turn her head toward Tom standing a short distance away. Tom stood there, still clutching the broken card, his eyes evasive, not daring to look at his mother at all. Arthur yelled from his bed, “Tommy! Don’t sign! If you sign, you have to pay! That’s my life-saving money!” The light in my mother-in-law’s eyes dimmed little by little. Like a candle in the wind, that final glimmer of hope was completely extinguished. She closed her eyes, and two trails of clear tears fell. “Sign it… Chloe… Mom… will listen to you…” Chapter 7 The surgery fees were paid, and my mother-in-law was wheeled into the operating room. I sat on the bench like a guardian demon, coldly watching the nest of vile people arguing at the end of the hallway. Because there was no money to pay the fees, Arthur could only lie on a cot in the hallway. The nurses had given his burns basic treatment, and he groaned in pain. “Sarah! You ungrateful wretch! I fed you and clothed you, and now you won’t even fork over twenty thousand?” “Dad! My oldest boy needs to go to tutoring classes! Where would I find spare cash? Besides, my brother lives in a big house and drives a car, why should I pay?” “That house was bought by Chloe, that shrew! The car is in her name too! I’m completely broke right now, Sis!” Tom squatted on the floor, holding his head, looking utterly defeated. Listening to their arguing, I felt nothing but intense irony. This was the “family” my mother-in-law had served her whole life. Without my mother-in-law as their free maid and punching bag, this family instantly fell apart, revealing its true colors of selfishness and apathy. About four hours later, the light above the operating room went out. The doctor walked out and took off his mask. “The surgery was relatively successful; we removed a portion of the lung lobe. But given her age, she’ll need chemotherapy afterward. Whether she can pull through depends on her willpower.” I let out a breath of relief, my legs turning so weak I almost sat on the floor. When my mother-in-law was wheeled out, the anesthesia hadn’t worn off yet. With an oxygen mask on her face, she looked incredibly small and fragile. I escorted her all the way to the ICU. After settling my mother-in-law in, I walked out of the room and bumped right into Tom, who was loitering suspiciously by the door. Seeing me come out, he immediately put on a fawning expression, holding a boxed lunch he’d bought from who-knows-where. “Wife… you must be tired, right? Want something to eat?” He handed over the lunchbox, but his eyes kept darting toward the hospital room. “How… how is Mom?” I didn’t take the lunchbox; I just looked at him coldly. “Spit it out.” Tom awkwardly pulled his hand back and rubbed his hands together. “Um… the doctor said Dad’s face needs skin grafts immediately, or it’ll scar and be ruined, and it could get infected. The doctor has asked for the payment several times already…” “And so?” “Wife, look… Mom’s surgery is done. The remaining money… could you lend it to Dad first for this emergency? We’re family after all, blood is thicker than water…” “Lend?” I laughed, laughing so hard tears almost came to my eyes. “Tom, do you still not understand the situation? Your mom is in there fighting for her life, and instead of thinking about how to care for her, all you care about is the face of your domestic-abuser dad?” “He’s my dad! I can’t just watch his face rot away, can I?” Tom grew anxious. “Besides, Mom’s fine now, right? The money is just sitting there…” “Get lost.” I only had one word for him. “Chloe! Don’t push your luck!” Tom finally dropped his act, showing his true colors. “Let me tell you, you will give me that money whether you want to or not! I am your husband, and I have the right to manage our household assets!” “Husband?” I took out my phone and played an audio recording. It was the recording I secretly made on the ambulance earlier. In the recording, Tom’s voice was crystal clear: [Chloe… my sister has a point. Mom is seventy, she can’t handle the trauma of surgery. How about… we just do conservative treatment?] Tom’s face instantly went deathly pale. “Why… why did you record that?” “Why?” I put away my phone, my eyes icy. “To keep it as evidence, of course. Tom, I’ve already consulted a lawyer. During your mother’s severe illness, not only did you refuse to fulfill your duty to provide for her, but you also attempted to divert life-saving funds for cosmetic surgery for her abuser. That’s called the crime of abandonment!” “If you dare harass me again, or touch a single penny of Mom’s life-saving money, I will post this recording and the videos of your dad’s domestic abuse all over the internet! I’ll send them to your company group chats! I’ll make sure that precarious job of yours is completely over!” Tom was terrified by my threats. A coward like him feared losing his livelihood and social death more than anything else. He pointed at me, his finger trembling for a long time, and finally spat viciously. “Fine! Chloe, you’re ruthless! Just you wait! Wait until Mom wakes up, let’s see how she deals with you! She listens to my dad the most. If she finds out you didn’t save Dad, she’ll definitely kick you out!” With that, he slinked away in defeat. I watched him go, feeling a sense of desolation. He was gambling. Gambling that the woman who had been beaten and scolded for fifty years would continue to accept his abuse for decades more. And I was gambling too. Gambling on the decades of silent screams within that frail body.

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After I died, my whole family clapped their hands and raised their glasses in celebration. All because I was the most infamous escort in the Southside’s red-light district. Every sleazy man in the city had a hungry look in his eyes when my name was mentioned. Some were even willing to bankrupt themselves just to buy one night with me. My notoriety made my parents and my brother hang their heads in shame for years. They hated me. They wouldn’t even let me come home for the holidays. If I ever stood near their front door, they would scrub the porch with bleach just to wash away my “filth.” Later, I was brutally murdered and dumped in the wilderness. The police called them every single day with updates. Today, we found her arm. Tomorrow, we might find her calf. Soon, we’ll have pieced together her whole body, so please prepare for the funeral. But my parents just looked disgusted. Impatient, they snapped into the phone: “Stop looking! A dirty, cheap woman like her deserves to be hacked to pieces.” But later, the feds executed a massive raid, completely dismantling the Southside organized crime syndicate. And when my family saw the police department’s published list of undercover operatives who died in the line of duty, they saw my name. They dropped to their knees, begging the police to let them see me one last time. My mom was carrying her tote bag, picking out vegetables for dinner at the neighborhood deli like she did every evening. But the moment she reached for a bundle of celery, the owner swatted her hand away with a rolled-up magazine. “Hey! Don’t touch my produce!” My mom pulled her stinging hand back in shock. “Excuse me?” “Your daughter was a whore who messed with the cartel. I’m not selling you anything. I don’t want her bad karma rubbing off on my store,” the owner said righteously. Hearing this, my mom’s face began to tremble with anger. “The police said she was a victim!” “Victim, my ass! Women who do that kind of dirty work get what’s coming to them!” “Get out! Stop blocking my register. Your whole family is trash, don’t drag the rest of us down with you!” The owner waved her away impatiently. Her face flushed bright red, my mom gritted her teeth and walked away. But it was as if the whole market had made a pact. Not a single vendor would sell her so much as a carrot. Even the local butcher she’d bought from for over a decade looked at her with disgust and told her to get lost. Unable to take it anymore, my mom yelled out, “You’re turning down paying customers? Are you crazy? She’s dead! What does she have to do with us?” The butcher sneered. “Who knows if the cash you’re using is the dirty money your daughter made spreading her legs? Even if you burned that money, we wouldn’t breathe the smoke!” They had the numbers. My mom couldn’t win the argument. Clutching her empty bag, she hunched her shoulders and walked out. Outside, a rare January snowstorm was sweeping through the city. Mom hadn’t brought an umbrella. She walked through the snow with a numb expression. Instinctively, I stepped in front of her. “Mom, at least buy an umbrella before you go…” But I was nothing more than a soul now. I couldn’t stop her, and I couldn’t do anything to help. In the end, I could only watch helplessly as she trudged through the blizzard. She walked to the bus stop and rode the city bus for over an hour, heading all the way to a generic supermarket in the East End. Hardly anyone knew her there. She finally managed to buy the groceries she needed for dinner. By the time she made it back to our apartment building, her face was purple from the freezing cold. Normally, she would have had dinner on the table by now. Because of the delay, she ended up walking into the lobby at the exact same time my brother, Tyler, was getting off work. He didn’t have an umbrella either. His coat was dusted with snow, and he looked utterly exhausted. “Hey Tyler, did the cops ever figure out how your sister died?” Mrs. Higgins, the nosy neighbor on the first floor, poked her head out to ask. Another neighbor chimed in, “She was probably sleeping around, pissed off some sugar daddy, and got murdered in a lover’s quarrel.” “That’s why women need to have some self-respect. You make that kind of dirty money, you’re gonna meet a bad end.” Hearing their conversation, my brother snapped. He grabbed his heavy leather briefcase and smashed it violently against Mrs. Higgins’ front window. With a loud CRACK, the glass splintered. She screamed, “Tyler Miller, what the hell are you doing?!” My brother glared at her with dead eyes. “She might be dirty, but is she dirtier than your mouth? She’s dead, and you’re still making up stories?” “If you’re so damn curious, why don’t you go drop dead and ask her yourself in hell?” Terrified by his unhinged glare, Mrs. Higgins shrank back. “Your whole family is psycho…” Tyler ignored them and stomped up the stairs. Mom followed silently behind him, not saying a word. When they opened the apartment door, the atmosphere inside was suffocating. Dad was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. Coincidentally, the local evening news was broadcasting an update on my dismemberment case. “As of today, DNA testing has confirmed that multiple human remains discovered across the Southside belong to local resident Emily Miller. Police are expanding their search perimeter but have yet to identify a suspect…” Hearing my name, Tyler irritably snatched the remote and turned off the TV. “When she was alive, at least the people at my corporate office didn’t know I had a stripper for a sister.” “Now she’s dead, and it’s all over the city news! I went to work today, and everyone was looking at me like I was radioactive! How am I supposed to show my face there?!” Tyler threw the remote onto the couch and complained. “I’m sorry, Tyler,” I said, standing transparently in the corner. Guilt weighed me down. Mom’s eyes grew red again. She had cried silently the entire bus ride home. The tears she had finally managed to stop began falling all over again. “It’s our fault. We didn’t raise her right. We let her give in to temptation and work in that kind of industry…” But how could they blame themselves? The year I finished high school, I had been accepted into a top-tier state university. I was supposed to be their pride and joy. Instead, I secretly threw my acceptance letter away and went to work at the most notorious VIP nightclub in the Southside. Eventually, my reputation grew, and the rumors reached my parents’ ears. Overnight, my parents’ hair seemed to turn gray. Mom had dropped to her knees, crying and begging me to quit, pleading with me not to be blinded by fast money. But I had pulled a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from my purse and laughed. “What’s the point of college? I pour some drinks, keep some guys company, and I make more in a night than most people make in a month. Only an idiot would pass this up.” Hearing that, Dad slapped me so hard my head spun. His entire body shook with rage. “Emily Miller, if you don’t turn your life around right now, don’t ever call us your parents again.” At the time, I made sure my eyes looked entirely consumed by greed, like an addict past the point of no return. “Fine! When I’m rich, don’t come crawling back begging for handouts!” My cruel words made my mom faint from the shock. Dad looked at me with absolute disappointment one last time, picked Mom up, and walked away. But they couldn’t hear me whispering through my tears as I watched their backs disappear. Go. Go as far away as possible. Don’t ever come looking for me again. The Southside was too dark. The sunlight could only reach a fraction of it. I wanted them to stand in the light. But my last name was Miller. Blood is thicker than water. In the end, I still couldn’t stop the shadows from touching them. Tyler’s phone suddenly rang, shattering the heavy silence in the room. “Tyler, is Emily Miller your sister?” the voice on the other end demanded the second he answered. Tyler didn’t dare confirm it. He just asked hoarsely, “What’s going on?” “We’re going to have to put you on an indefinite leave of absence. The scandal surrounding your sister is too massive. It’s a PR nightmare for the firm.” Tyler’s face drained of all color. “Why?! My sister is already dead! Why do I have to lose my job over this?!” The man on the phone sighed. “Do you not check the internet? Go look at the massive mess your sister left behind.” The line went dead. Mom cried and grabbed Tyler’s arm. “Tyler… your job…?” He nodded, defeated. Dad looked at him in disbelief. “Why?” Suddenly, like a rabid lion, Tyler kicked the coffee table over and roared. “She is a curse on this family! She’s dead, and she’s still haunting us!” “Do you know what people are saying online? They’re saying she slept with half the men in the city!” “They’re saying she caught a disease, infected a cartel boss, and he chopped her up out of anger!” “Others are saying she was playing multiple mobsters at once, got caught, and they killed her together!” “They’re saying she messed with the wrong people, and anyone connected to her is going to be targeted!” “Emily, what the hell did you do?! You destroyed us!” Tyler screamed until his voice cracked, directing his fury at the empty air. In a place he couldn’t see, tears streamed down my face, but I couldn’t utter a single word to explain. I only regretted that I hadn’t let ‘Emily Miller’ legally die years ago. I should have used a completely fake identity to infiltrate that club. It was my fault for not being careful enough. Even in death, I was dragging them down. My parents stayed completely silent in the wake of Tyler’s outburst. The apartment was dead quiet, save for Tyler’s heavy, ragged breathing. But the phone rang again, oblivious to the tragedy unfolding in the room. Mom wiped her tears and numbly pulled out her cell phone. It was Detective Hayes. His voice was laced with exhaustion and deep sorrow. “Today, we only managed to recover Emily’s thumb. I am so sorry.” “We will do everything in our power to find her complete remains. Please give us a little more time.” A few weeks ago, Mom used to speak to Detective Hayes politely. Now, it was as if she were a completely different person. She exploded. “Stop looking! A piece of trash like her deserves to be scattered to the wind and denied a grave!” “She ruined our reputation when she was alive, and now she’s ruining our lives when she’s dead. Detective Hayes, she is a curse! Why are you still looking for her?!” Detective Hayes went dead silent on the other end of the line. After a long pause, he choked out, “I’m sorry.” The call disconnected. The fiery rage lodged in my mom’s throat was suddenly extinguished by Detective Hayes’s apology. She couldn’t understand what he was apologizing for. “Do these people not understand English? I told them to stop looking.” Mom put her phone down, her tone hollow. “Let it go. We can’t interfere with police work,” Dad sighed, lighting a cigarette and taking a long, melancholy drag. He had been a smoker for decades, but the drag made him cough violently, his eyes turning bloodshot. “What a nightmare,” Mom closed her eyes and lamented. But despite their complaints, life had to go on. Mom carefully cooked dinner, but sitting at the table, all three of them chewed without tasting anything. Tyler poked at his rice and suddenly looked up. “My wedding with Haley is next week. We absolutely cannot afford any mistakes.” Sitting silently in the empty fourth chair, my eyes lit up. “Tyler, you’re finally getting married.” I rarely knew what went on at home, so hearing the good news filled me with genuine happiness for him. But the joy was fleeting. Tyler rubbed his temples in frustration. “Don’t invite the gossipy relatives. Only the quiet, reliable ones, and brief them beforehand.” “Haley finally convinced her parents to go through with this. We can’t screw this up.” My eyes darkened. “I’m sorry, Tyler. Even at your wedding, I’m still causing you trouble.” They endured the crushing pressure for another week, finally reaching the joyous day they had been waiting for. The wedding venue was decorated romantically. The guest list was small, but it was lively. My parents and Tyler were beaming, the dark clouds finally lifting from their faces. Watching from the sidelines, I felt a weight lift off my chest. I whispered my congratulations. “Happy wedding, Tyler. Please be happy.” My words vanished into the applause from the audience. But the very next second, the banquet doors were violently kicked open by a gang of thugs. “Which one of you is Emily Miller’s brother?” The guests gasped in horror. Panic flashed across Tyler’s face. He instinctively shoved his bride behind him and shouted, “What do you want?” The leader smirked. “As long as you’re Emily’s blood, you don’t get to have a good day!” “Smash it! Trash the whole place!” With that command, the thugs swarmed the room. Guests screamed and scattered. My parents, pale with terror, rushed forward to stop them. “Stop! Please stop!” “This is my son’s wedding! I’m begging you, leave us alone!” The thugs shoved my parents to the floor with brutal force. The ground was covered in shattered champagne glasses. They fell directly onto the shards, their clothes staining with blood. In an instant, a beautiful wedding was reduced to absolute carnage. Half an hour later, police cruisers arrived with sirens blaring and subdued the thugs. Seeing that it was finally safe, Haley’s parents stormed up to the altar and slapped Tyler hard across the face. They yanked Haley out of his arms and screamed, “You animal! Your family is drowning in cartel drama, and you still thought it was a good idea to marry my daughter?!” Tyler stood frozen, begging desperately. “Mr. and Mrs. Clark, please let me explain! This is all because of Emily! We didn’t do anything, we’re innocent…” “Don’t call us Mom and Dad! The marriage is annulled! You’re signing the divorce papers tomorrow! From this day forward, the Clark family has nothing to do with the Millers!” Hearing this, Tyler completely panicked. He looked at his bride with agonizing desperation. “Haley, you won’t leave me, right?” But Haley’s eyes were red. She looked away. “I’m sorry, Tyler. The baggage your sister brings… I can’t handle it.” “Just… let me go. Let’s end this cleanly.” Without looking back, Haley walked out the door. Tyler collapsed onto the floor, utterly defeated. He wept, slamming his fists into the ground in pure hatred. “Emily Miller, you ruined us! Being chopped to pieces was too good for you!” “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” I covered my face, crouching next to Tyler, sobbing uncontrollably. I knew exactly who sent those thugs. But I never imagined his hatred for me ran so deep that torturing and dismembering me wasn’t enough. Even while he was under federal investigation, he still sent people to terrorize my family. Guilt consumed me like poison, but I didn’t know how to fix it. I could only pray that justice would come quickly. Just a little faster. Afterward, the police escorted Tyler and my wounded parents to the hospital. Facing Detective Hayes in the hallway, Tyler leaned against the wall, utterly broken. “My job is gone. My wife is gone. I have nothing left.” “Just how many disgusting things did Emily do? How long is the Miller family supposed to pay for her sins?!” Detective Hayes looked at him with immense guilt in his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. We can’t disclose that information right now.” “But please rest assured, we will assign a detail to protect you and your parents. I promise what happened today won’t happen again.” Tyler let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the point? It’s too late. My life is already destroyed because of her.” “From now on, do not call us about anything regarding Emily Miller. The Miller family doesn’t have a daughter, and I don’t have a sister.” Detective Hayes froze. He swallowed hard before finally forcing the words out. “Understood. We will respect your wishes.”

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1 During a holiday get-together with my girlfriends, I accidentally clicked on a newly updated local trending post. [Live Stream: What’s it like hooking up with your best friend’s husband on her balcony?] The comment section was in an uproar, with everyone begging for the live stream and juicy details. The original poster quickly replied: [It’s so thrilling my scalp is tingling! Watching my bestie entertain guests in the living room through the glass door, while her husband pins me against the railing… and it’s snowing outside! The feeling of fire and ice is absolutely mind-blowing!] I scoffed, thinking it was just a made-up story for attention, and casually clicked on the live photo the poster had just uploaded. With just one glance, I froze. The vaguely visible figure in the photo was wearing the exact same red sweater as me. And the large hand gripping the woman’s waist had a black mole right on the web between the thumb and index finger—exactly identical to my husband’s. I immediately looked up at the tightly closed blackout curtains, faintly making out the intertwined silhouettes behind them. It had been half an hour since my husband said he was going to the balcony for a smoke, and my best friend, who had come over for the holidays, had also disappeared. Outside the window, heavy snow was falling; it was fourteen degrees out there. I got up, walked over to the balcony door, and with a soft click, I locked that highly soundproof, double-paned sliding glass door. Since they were pursuing the thrill of fire and ice, they might as well enjoy it out there to the fullest. … “Chloe, you’ve been married to Mark for three years now. Why haven’t you gotten pregnant yet?” “Exactly. A woman needs a child to secure her position. Otherwise, what will you do when you’re old?” “Your mother-in-law is so anxious her hair is turning white! You need to take this seriously!” In the noisy living room, several distant relatives surrounded my mom, spit flying as they talked. My mom’s smile was frozen on her face, and she could only keep giving me pointed looks. I kept my head down, pretending not to see, my fingers swiping rapidly across my phone screen. Today was New Year’s Eve, the big family reunion dinner at Mark’s hometown. I felt like an outsider, huddled in the corner of the sofa. My only shield was this warm phone. A newly trending local post title caught my eye. [Live Stream: What’s it like hooking up with your best friend’s husband on her balcony?] I scoffed. People these days will make up anything for traffic. The comment section had already exploded, with hundreds of replies begging for details. The original poster updated quickly. [It’s so thrilling my scalp is tingling! Watching my bestie entertain guests in the living room through the glass door, while her husband pins me against the railing… and it’s snowing outside! The feeling of fire and ice is absolutely mind-blowing!] I rolled my eyes and was about to scroll past when the poster uploaded another live photo. One photo. My finger instantly froze on the screen. The angle was tricky, like it was taken from extremely close up, pressed right against the glass door. The glass door reflected a blurry red figure in the living room. That red sweater was a New Year’s gift my mom had bought me just a few days ago, and I was wearing it right now. But the main subject of the photo was a large hand gripping the woman’s slender waist. On the web of that hand, there was a black mole. It was exactly the same as the mole on Mark’s hand, one I had kissed countless times. All the blood in my body rushed to my head in an instant, only to freeze into ice the next second. I looked up, staring dead at the tightly closed blackout curtains at the far end of the living room. Behind those curtains was the balcony. Mark had said he was going out for a smoke half an hour ago. My best friend, Sarah—the same Sarah who, just a second ago, was whispering in my ear about how sorry she felt for me and helping me fend off the relatives—said she was going to get me some fruit and had also vanished. I looked out the window. Heavy snow was falling; it was fourteen degrees out. In the living room, the relatives’ interrogation about me having a baby continued. “Chloe, I’m talking to you, did you hear me?” My mother-in-law’s sharp voice pierced through. I ignored her. I stood up and, under the gaze of dozens of eyes, walked step by step toward the balcony. The noise in the living room seemed to be muted. Everyone watched me. I walked up to the highly soundproof, double-paned sliding glass door. Behind the curtains, two intertwined silhouettes could be faintly seen, shaking frantically. I smiled. I reached out and grasped the door lock. Click. A soft sound as I locked the balcony door. Since they were pursuing a thrill, they might as well enjoy it to the fullest. 2 The sound of the lock clicking into place was quiet, but in the dead silent living room, it sounded like a thunderclap. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on me. “Chloe, what are you doing!” My mother-in-law was the first to react, her voice pitching up sharply. The silhouettes on the balcony also seemed to notice something and stopped their movements. I didn’t speak. I turned around, slowly walked back to the sofa, sat down, and picked up my phone again. As if the act of locking the door had just been a hallucination. “Why did you lock the balcony door? Mark is still out there smoking!” My mother-in-law rushed over, pointing her finger at my nose, demanding an answer. “Oh,” I didn’t even lift my eyelids. “He’ll open it himself when he’s done smoking.” “You!” Just then, loud banging sounds came from the balcony door. “Honey? Chloe? Why is the door locked?” Mark’s voice sounded muffled through the double-paned glass, but he couldn’t hide his panic. Immediately following was Sarah’s shrill voice: “Chloe, stop joking around, open the door quickly! It’s freezing out here!” The living room instantly erupted into chaos. “Why is Sarah on the balcony too?” “What’s going on with those two? What are they doing on the balcony on New Year’s Eve?” “Chloe, open the door right now!” An uncle stood up, speaking in a commanding tone. I looked at the still-updating thread on my phone screen. The poster had just posted another comment. [Fuck, I think the door is locked. My bestie didn’t find out, did she?] The comments below immediately derailed. [Holy shit! Live streaming getting caught in the act?] [OP is insane! This is getting spicy!] [Hurry! Start fighting! I want to see blood flowing like a river!] I pointed my phone screen at the loudmouth uncle and said coldly, “What’s the rush? They’re experiencing the thrill of fire and ice right now. Don’t interrupt them.” Everyone froze. My mother-in-law snatched my phone. With just one glance, the shock on her face rapidly turned pale, and finally twisted into an expression of unbelievable ferocity. She gripped the phone tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force. Her lips trembled, but she couldn’t utter a single word. “Mom! Open the door! I’m going to freeze to death!” Mark’s banging on the door grew heavier. “Chloe! I’m begging you! We know we were wrong! Just open the door first, please?” Sarah’s crying voice drifted in. In the living room, the relatives looked at each other in dismay. “What a sin!” My mother-in-law finally recovered, letting out a wail—not at me, but toward the balcony. “My son!” She turned to go open the door. I stuck my foot out and tripped her. My mother-in-law stumbled and almost fell flat on her face. “What are you doing!” She turned back and roared at me. “I locked it from the inside.” I looked at her calmly, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with me. “I have the key.” I pulled the small deadbolt key from my pocket and dangled it in front of her. Watching her face twist with anger and terror, I almost laughed out loud. 3 “Rebellion! Total rebellion! She’s turning this house upside down!” My mother-in-law pointed a violently trembling finger at me, looking like she was having a stroke. “What sins did our family commit to marry such a bringer of bad luck! A barren hen who dares to try and murder her own husband!” She started throwing a tantrum, plopping down on the floor, slapping her thighs, and wailing. “Everyone, look! This venomous woman is trying to freeze my son to death outside!” Several relatives immediately surrounded me. “Chloe, you’re going too far. Whatever issues you two have, can’t you talk it out reasonably?” “Yeah, it’s New Year’s Eve. Making such a scene, what will the neighbors think?” “Open the door quickly! If they freeze any longer, someone could die!” They spoke one after another, each taking the moral high ground to judge me. Not a single person cared about me. In their eyes, Mark was the hope of their family, an elite making a six-figure salary. And I was merely an appendage attached to him, one who couldn’t even bear a child. My existence was just to highlight Mark’s excellence and maintain the family’s respectable image. And now, I was daring to challenge that respectable image. “Did you hear me?! I told you to open the door!” A burly cousin stepped forward, trying to get physical with me. I glared at him coldly: “Try touching me.” That cousin was pinned to the spot by my glare. The balcony door was being pounded thunderously. “Open the door! You bitch! Open the fucking door!” Mark finally tore off his disguise and started screaming curses. “If you don’t open it, I’ll smash this glass!” “Chloe, are you crazy?! That’s tempered glass, it’ll cost thousands to replace if you break it!” My mom rushed over, anxiously pulling my arm. “Mom.” I looked at her, enunciating every word. “From today on, in this house, what I say goes.” My mom froze, looking at me in disbelief. I turned my gaze back to my mother-in-law. She was still wailing on the floor, repeating the same phrases like “family misfortune” and “bringer of bad luck” over and over again. I picked up a cup of boiling water from the coffee table, walked over, and squatted in front of her. “Didn’t you want the key?” I held the cup up to her mouth. The scalding steam made her shrink back violently. “You…” She looked at me in terror, as if looking at a monster. “Drink it,” I said softly. “Drink it, and the key is yours.” The entire living room went dead silent. Everyone was shocked by my crazy action. 4 “Ah—!” My mother-in-law let out a scream and scrambled backward on all fours, as if trying to escape a plague. I didn’t push her further, slamming the cup down onto the floor in front of her with a clatter. Tea splashed out, burning her and making her flinch again. “Since you all want to save him so badly, fine.” I stood up and surveyed the silent relatives. “Whoever wants to open the door, come over here and drink this cup of water.” No one dared to move. They exchanged glances, the expressions on their faces a colorful display. There was terror, there was anger, but mostly, there was cowardice. This is human nature. When being generous at someone else’s expense, they are self-righteous saints. When the fire burns them, they become turtles pulling their heads into their shells for self-preservation. “Lunatic! You are a complete lunatic!” My mother-in-law pointed at me and screamed. “That’s right.” I nodded in acknowledgment. “I was driven crazy by your family.” I took out my phone, opened the live stream thread, and read out the disgusting comments and the poster’s explicit replies one by one. [OP, your body is so hot! Your husband must be bad in bed if he can’t satisfy you?] [Reply to above: Him? He’s a useless piece of trash, all show and no go. My bestie’s husband is much better!] That reply was posted five minutes ago. The faces of the relatives in the living room also turned a kaleidoscope of colors. Now, this monumental family scandal had been ruthlessly exposed by me. “Enough!” My mother-in-law suddenly sprang up from the floor, rushing over like a madwoman to snatch my phone. Smack! I backhanded her, slapping her hard across the face. The crisp sound made everyone gasp. My mother-in-law clutched her face, completely stunned, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you dare hit me?” “Hit you?” I sneered. “If you dare touch me again, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair.” I wasn’t joking. Three years of marriage, her overt and covert humiliations, my endless tolerance toward Mark—it wasn’t because I was weak. It was because I loved him and wanted to save his dignity. Now that the facade was torn down, I had nothing left to worry about. “Smash it! Smash it for me!” My mother-in-law seemed to be drained of all her strength, collapsing onto the floor, pointing toward the balcony, screaming hoarsely, “Son! Smash the door open! If anything happens, Mom will take the blame!” Having received his mother’s command, Mark seemed pumped full of adrenaline. Bang! Bang! Bang! The double-paned glass door to the balcony groaned in agony, shaking violently. Sarah’s screams mixed with Mark’s curses. “You bitch! Just you wait!” “When I get in there, I’ll fucking kill you!” The relatives in the living room backed away in terror, afraid the glass would shatter and hit them. My mom clung to my arm tightly, trembling uncontrollably. “Chloe, let it go. Someone is going to die…” I looked at the door trembling under the heavy blows, at the two frantic figures behind it. I pulled out my phone, pointed it at the door, and pressed record. Then, I dialed 911. “Hello, police? I’m at…” Just as I gave the address, a hand struck my wrist hard. The phone flew out of my hand. It was my mother-in-law. She lunged at me like a madwoman, grabbing me by the throat. “You want to call the cops? You want to make our family a laughingstock for everyone? I’ll strangle you, you bitch!” 5 My mother-in-law’s nails dug deep into my flesh, and a wave of suffocation instantly washed over me. But I didn’t fight back; I just stared coldly at her, watching her face twisted with fury. “Strangle me,” I squeezed the words through gritted teeth. “Your son and that bitch will freeze to death out there. My life for theirs. Worth it.” My words acted like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Her grip on my throat suddenly loosened. Just then. Crash—! A massive explosion. The double-paned tempered glass of the balcony was smashed by Mark using a large ceramic planter. It was the outer pane. Glass shards exploded like hail, but the inner pane remained intact, only covered in a spiderweb of cracks. After smashing the glass, Mark seemed to have exhausted his strength. Through the cracks, he stared at me like a trapped beast. “This is all your fucking fault!” He suddenly turned on Sarah, violently shoving her to the ground. “Why did you post that thread?! You slut! Are you that desperate for attention?!” Sarah, her lips blue from the cold, cried and screamed: “Mark, you’re not human! You were the one who said it was thrilling! Now you’re blaming me? Are you even a man?!” “Shut up! If you hadn’t seduced me, would this have happened?!” This exchange completely shattered the psychological defenses of everyone present. “Murder!” Someone yelled, and the entire living room descended into absolute chaos. The relatives scattered and fled screaming, terrified the next planter would land on their heads. My mom was so scared she collapsed on the floor. Mark and Sarah were still fighting on the balcony. He was only wearing a thin dress shirt, his lips already purple from the cold. Sarah was in an even worse state; that sexy silk slip dress was completely soaked, clinging tightly to her body. Mark’s voice was impossibly hoarse. “I’m… begging you…” He had finally started begging me. My mother-in-law also snapped out of it, scrambling on her hands and knees to the door, crying through the glass: “Son! My son! How are you?” Then she turned around, looking at me with pleading, terrified eyes. “Chloe… no, good daughter-in-law… Mom is begging you, Mom will kneel for you! Open the door quickly, if you don’t, he really will die!” Saying that, she fell to her knees in front of me with a thud. The mother-in-law who had just been acting arrogant and domineering, who had tried to strangle me, was now kneeling at my feet. The living room was a disaster zone. The relatives who were bustling just moments ago had all fled without a trace. Only my mom, me, and my mother-in-law kneeling on the floor remained. And outside the door, the cheating couple, who were one step away from death. I looked at my mother-in-law kneeling on the floor, feeling absolutely no emotion. If you knew this would happen, why did you act that way in the first place? I slowly walked over and picked up my phone with its shattered screen. Luckily, it still worked. I opened the thread; the poster’s account had turned gray. Deactivated. Too bad it was too late. I had already taken screenshots of everything. I walked up to my mother-in-law and handed her the phone to look at. “Now you know how to beg me? Weren’t you acting so mighty when you called me a ‘barren hen’?” “I was wrong! It’s my foul mouth! I’m not human!” My mother-in-law raised her hand and slapped herself hard twice. “Chloe, as long as you open the door, from now on, you’re in charge of this house! I’ll work like a dog for you!” “Too late.” I pulled my phone back, looking past her to the dying man outside the door. The man I had loved for five whole years. “Mark,” I asked him, word by word, through the cracked glass, “Tell me, what did I ever do to wrong you?”

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I found a GPS tracker hidden under my car by my husband. He thought his plan was flawless, but it chilled me to the bone. My sister-in-law was trying to get pregnant, desperately seeking medical advice every day. I smiled kindly and handed her my car keys: “This car has a safety blessing. You’ll feel more at ease driving it to your checkups.” She thanked me profusely, completely unaware that danger was already quietly hitting the road. Until the sound of police sirens pierced the air the next day. My mother-in-law’s wails were heart-wrenching. Only then did he understand my ruthlessness. 1 The afternoon sun was a bit glaring, and the fan-shaped mist from the pressure washer refracted a fleeting rainbow. I was bent over, washing the car with a soft sponge. It was a white SUV, bought with the bonus from my very first project. Ethan didn’t like this car. He thought its lines weren’t sharp enough, that it didn’t match his status as an investment manager. But I liked it. I liked its rounded lines and spacious interior, like a mobile fortress that could whisk me away at any moment. The water flushed through the tire treads, washing away the mud and sand. My fingertips accidentally brushed against an edge on the car’s undercarriage. There was something stuck there that didn’t belong to the car itself. It was a small, rough, magnetic block. My movements halted for a second, my heart feeling like it had been violently seized by an invisible hand. I didn’t rip it off immediately. I stood up and turned off the pressure washer. It was dead silent around me, save for the rhythmic dripping of water sliding off the car body. I took out my phone, adjusted the angle, and snapped a picture of that little black block. The photo clearly showed its outline, and a faintly blinking indicator light. Back home, I locked myself in the study and uploaded the photo to my computer. Zoom in, search. Every word of the results that popped up on the screen felt like a cold chisel, carving a bloody hole in my heart. High-precision GPS tracker, ultra-long standby, silent operation. So that was it. No wonder last week, when I suddenly changed the meeting location with a client, Ethan’s call came “coincidentally” right as I walked into the new cafe. No wonder he always managed to send a considerate “Don’t rush, drive safe” text exactly when I was feeling frustrated in traffic. I used to be touched by this telepathic connection. Thinking about it now, I only felt a churning nausea in my stomach. I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and tried to steady my breathing. Besides the tracker, there was something else. That smell. For the past month, a faint, sickly-sweet scent would constantly drift from the car’s AC vents. I thought it was time to change the cabin air filter and even mentioned it to Ethan. What was his answer then? He said the new car freshener was just a bit too strong and the smell would dissipate in a few days. And then there was my own body. An inexplicable exhaustion that an eight-hour sleep couldn’t relieve. Recurring skin allergies on my arms and calves that itched to the bone. I thought it was just the changing seasons, or maybe the stress from work. Now, all these clues were slithering out of dark corners like venomous snakes, wrapping around me, flicking their tongues. I didn’t touch anything. I shut down the computer and saved the photos on my phone into an encrypted folder. I prepared dinner as usual: washing rice, washing vegetables, chopping meat. The blade hitting the cutting board made a crisp sound—rhythmic, and cold. The lock turned, and Ethan was home. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, his hair meticulously styled, a gentle and refined smile on his face. He walked over and habitually hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Tired today?” he asked. I could smell the mix of tobacco and cologne on him, a scent I used to be obsessed with, but now it only made me want to throw up. I shook my head, my voice as calm as stagnant water: “Not tired.” “By the way,” I turned my head, looking into his eyes, trying to make my expression look natural. “Is it time for the car to be serviced? I keep feeling like there’s something wrong with the AC lately.” His eyes flickered—very fast, almost imperceptibly. “Really? I just had someone check it a while ago. It might just be a dirty filter. I’ll take it to the dealership this weekend to have a look.” His answer was airtight, the smile on his face flawless. Halfway through dinner, my mother-in-law, Susan, called right on schedule. Ethan put her on speaker. “Chloe, did you go see the doctor or not? You’ve been married for three years, and your belly hasn’t shown any signs. Are you deliberately trying to end the Vance family line?” The shrill, mean voice drilled out of the receiver, piercing my eardrums like steel needles. “Our Ethan has a great career and good looks. Marrying you was the worst luck of his life! A hen that can’t lay eggs, what are you taking up space for!” My hand gripping the chopsticks tightened slightly, my knuckles turning white. Ethan immediately frowned and said to the phone, “Mom, what nonsense are you talking about! Chloe is under a lot of pressure too. We’re trying.” “Trying? Trying for three years and not even a fart to show for it! Let me tell you, Ethan, I don’t care. If there’s no news by the end of this year, you two are getting a divorce! I don’t want to die and be too ashamed to face your father!” The call was forcefully hung up by Susan. The dining room fell dead silent. Ethan sighed, placed a piece of ribs in my bowl, and spoke in a tone as gentle as coaxing a child. “Chloe, don’t listen to my mom. She’s just anxious to have a grandchild, she doesn’t mean any harm.” “Look at my sister, Lily. To get pregnant, she’s seeing doctors, getting checkups, working so hard. Let’s step it up too, okay?” Every sentence was a comfort, yet every sentence was applying pressure. Looking at his hypocritical face, and that fleeting gleam of calculation in his eyes, the temperature in my heart dropped inch by inch until it was frozen solid. This man I had loved for five years, this husband I had shared a bed with for three years, was personally weaving a massive web for me. And I was the prey about to be devoured. No. I won’t let him get his way. Late at night, Ethan was fast asleep, his breathing steady and long. I quietly got out of bed, walked to the living room, and picked up his phone. The password was our wedding anniversary—how ironic. I opened his WeChat, my fingers trembling slightly from nerves. I clicked on a contact with no profile picture, saved as “S.” There wasn’t much chat history, but every sentence was shocking. “Has she been suspicious lately?” “No, she’s very naive.” “How are the effects of the stuff?” “Should be soon. She’s always complaining about being tired lately.” Right then, a new message popped up at the top of the screen, from “S.” “How are things going? Once she definitely can’t have kids, you’ll have an excuse for your mom, and we can be together sooner.” I covered my mouth tightly to stop the sob from escaping. So, my physical discomfort, my mother-in-law’s pressure, his gentle traps—everything was a meticulously planned conspiracy. What he wanted wasn’t just for me to not be able to have children. He wanted me to be “proven” infertile. A bone-chilling cold rose from the soles of my feet, instantly spreading through my limbs and bones, freezing me into a sculpture devoid of warmth. Anger and hatred churned in my chest like magma, scorching every inch of my rationality. Very well. Ethan. If you want to play, I’ll play with you to the bitter end. 2 The next day, I called my company and asked for a sick leave with a hoarse voice. The excuse was a severe cold and physical discomfort. Hanging up, I dug out gloves and a mask from the storage room, arming myself securely. I needed to confirm again. Opening the car door, that sickly-sweet scent was even more distinct than yesterday. I didn’t start the car. Instead, I directly dismantled the glove box on the passenger side, revealing the cabin air filter compartment inside. The process was more complicated than I imagined, but as an architectural designer, I have a natural sensitivity to mechanical structures. I carefully pulled out the filter. In the deepest part of the filter, near the air vent, I found something. It wasn’t a normal car freshener. It was cleverly disguised as a black plastic part, tightly wedged in a structural crevice. Attached to it was a tiny flexible tube leading to a modified miniature device that could slowly release liquid. My heart beat wildly, almost leaping out of my throat. Using tweezers, I extremely carefully removed the entire device intact. Then, I placed the device in a sealed bag and cut off a small piece of the filter soaked in the liquid as a sample. Having done all this, I called Sarah. Sarah is my best friend from college and also a top-tier lawyer at the city’s premier law firm. When the call connected, I only said one sentence: “Sarah, I’m in trouble.” Sarah immediately heard the wrongness in my voice. “Where are you? Don’t move, I’ll be right there!” Half an hour later, Sarah rushed to my house. I placed the tracker and that strange device in front of her. After hearing my account, fury erupted on her usually calm and composed face. “That animal, Ethan! This is chronic poisoning! This is a crime!” She immediately helped me contact a highly professional and confidential private testing agency. They promised to have the results in 24 hours at the earliest. During the long, agonizing wait for the results, I didn’t let myself stay idle. I opened my laptop and began organizing all the assets under my and Ethan’s names. Married for three years, we had jointly invested in quite a few projects, mostly led by him. I checked them one by one, my heart sinking lower and lower. There were three wealth management products totaling over seven figures that should have been under our joint account, but were now missing. I checked the transaction records. They had been unilaterally transferred by Ethan a month ago to an account completely unknown to me. Sarah called, her voice grave. “Chloe, I just consulted with a colleague, and we have a terrifying theory.” “Ethan’s goal is likely a combo move.” “Step one: use drugs to ruin your body, making you ‘infertile’. Step two: use the tracker to monitor your whereabouts and fabricate ‘evidence’ of your indiscretion.” “Finally, during the divorce, he’ll leave you with nothing due to your ‘physical issues’ and ‘marital fault’.” My brain buzzed. I remembered now. Just two months ago, Ethan had subtly tried to get me to sign a property agreement. He said it was just in case—if our feelings ever changed, we could part amicably without hurting each other. I had only thought it was weird at the time and kept putting off signing it. Looking at it now, it was a trap he had laid long ago. I hung up, immediately put on my coat, and went to the bank. The bank statements spat out by the ATM were as long as a eulogy. They clearly recorded the path and time of every single asset transfer Ethan had made. Irrefutable evidence. Holding that stack of cold paper, I walked on the streets at dusk, the city’s neon lights blurring my vision. My phone vibrated. It was a WeChat message from my sister-in-law, Lily. “Sister-in-law, trying to get pregnant is too hard. I’m going to the city’s best fertility center tomorrow for a comprehensive checkup. Hoping for a good result.” Followed by a praying hands emoji. I looked at that line of text, looking at that glaring emoji. A bold, meticulous, and perhaps even crazy plan slowly broke ground on my frozen heart. Ethan, didn’t you want to watch a good show? Then I’ll let you see with your own eyes how you personally pushed your precious sister into the abyss. 3 The call from the testing agency came earlier than expected. The results were out. A chemical substance named “phthalate” was detected in the filter sample. This is an environmental hormone. Long-term, low-dose exposure severely disrupts the human endocrine system, causing irreversible damage to female reproductive health. Simply put, it can cause infertility. I gripped my phone, my fingertips freezing cold, drained of all color. The last bit of fantasy about our five-year relationship completely turned to ash along with that cold chemical term. I calmly deleted all call logs and contact information with the testing agency. Then, I took photos of the test report, uploaded them to the cloud, and set up multiple encryptions. Having done all this, I put on my gloves and took out that deadly “freshener” device. I installed it back into its original position in the car, untouched. Except, before installing it, I used a fine needle to quietly widen the small hole that released the liquid. This meant its evaporation rate would be several times faster than before. That evening, Ethan suggested we go back to his parents’ house for dinner. A trap I had long anticipated. At the dinner table, my mother-in-law, Susan, started her performance again. One minute she’s talking about how the neighbor’s daughter-in-law had a chubby baby boy, the next she’s talking about someone’s daughter who got pregnant right after getting married, saying she was born to be a good breeder. Every sentence was like a soft knife, stabbing at my heart again and again. Ethan, meanwhile, played his role of the twenty-four-filial-exemplar good husband. He “considerately” served me food, gently told me to eat more, and used his eyes to signal me not to mind his mother. That acting—it’s a waste he hasn’t won an Oscar. “Bro, Sister-in-law,” Lily put down her chopsticks, looking worried. “I’m going to the hospital tomorrow. The road to the city fertility center is too hard to navigate, and it’s impossible to get a cab during the morning rush hour.” The opportunity had arrived. I looked up, a remarkably gentle and kind smile blooming on my face. “Lily, why didn’t you say earlier that you needed a car?” I took my car keys out of my bag, placed them on the table, and pushed them toward her. “Take my car.” In an instant, everyone at the table froze. Surprise showed on the faces of both Ethan and Susan. I ignored them, just looking at Lily, my tone as sincere as could be. “My car just got serviced, it runs smooth. Plus, I heard this license plate number is super lucky; it brings good fortune.” I paused, adding with a smile. “Take it to your checkup. Maybe with the ‘good pregnancy’ blessing, you’ll succeed on the first try.” I enunciated the words “good pregnancy” very clearly. (Translator’s Note: In Chinese, “good fortune” and “good pregnancy” sound identical.) The doubts on my mother-in-law’s face vanished instantly. She eagerly urged Lily: “Your sister-in-law said so, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and thank her!” Ethan chimed in: “Yeah, Lily, your sister-in-law is just looking out for you.” He looked at me, a hint of probing in his eyes, but mostly satisfaction at my “putting the big picture first.” He probably thought I had been successfully brainwashed by him and his mother, and was trying hard to please their family. Lily was overjoyed, accepting the car keys with endless gratitude, clutching them tightly in her hand. “Thank you, Sister-in-law! You’re so good to me!” I smiled, looking at her face full of gratitude. Looking at the relieved expressions of Ethan and Susan behind her. There wasn’t a single ripple in my heart, only a bottomless, cold abyss. Go ahead. Drive this lucky car loaded with my husband’s “love” and your whole family’s “hopes.” Go meet your judgment. 4 The morning Lily drove to the hospital, the sky was a dreary gray. I used an unregistered SIM card I bought on the street yesterday to send a text message to someone. The recipient was Lily’s attending physician, Dr. Chen. I got his contact info from a registration slip Lily had accidentally posted on her Moments before. I revised the text message over a dozen times, carefully considering every single word. “Hello Dr. Chen, apologies for the intrusion. You have a patient surnamed Vance coming in today for fertility planning. She may have been unknowingly exposed to phthalate chemicals long-term. I suggest you pay attention to related indicators during the exam and check her belongings for contamination sources. This is purely for her health, please.” After sending the text, I immediately removed the SIM card, cut it into pieces with scissors, and flushed it down the toilet. I completely removed myself from this matter. Having done all this, I turned on my computer. I categorized and organized the chat logs of Ethan’s affair, the bank statements of the transferred family assets, and the photo of the GPS tracker. Then, I packaged and encrypted all the files and sent them to Sarah. Sarah replied almost instantly. “Everything is ready, just waiting for your signal.” I closed the laptop, walked to the window, and made myself a cup of coffee. The aroma of coffee filled the room, but my mood was exceptionally calm. I ran through all the possible scenarios that might unfold next, and my corresponding countermeasures, over and over in my head. I even had the mood to open my design software and start modifying a museum design project I had shelved for a long time. Lines flowed from my fingertips, constructing a space full of light and hope. Ironically, in reality, I was personally destroying another hypocritical palace. Around noon, Ethan called. “What are you doing at home? Feeling any better?” His tone carried an imperceptible probe. “Much better, just resting.” My voice sounded a bit languid, like a wife truly resting sick at home. I even “caringly” asked, “Did Lily’s checkup go smoothly?” Ethan was silent for two seconds on the other end of the line. “Should be soon, she hasn’t called me yet.” His voice betrayed a trace of nervousness even he hadn’t noticed. I smiled. What was he nervous about? Of course he was nervous. He desperately needed a report of his sister successfully getting pregnant to contrast my “incompetence.” He was also afraid his tampering would be discovered. But he would never have thought that the one to uncover all this would be his most beloved sister. He would never have thought that the protagonist of the stage he meticulously set was no longer me. But himself.

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I had traveled ten years into the future, and I was furious. I was ready to give my future self a piece of my mind. “Did he cheat on me, or did he get rich and forget his roots?” “I knew it. You can never trust the love of a poor boy.” “Where is he? If I don’t vent this anger, my name isn’t Fiona Sterling.” My 31-year-old self stared at me numbly, her eyes hollow and dead. She opened her mouth, her cracked lips splitting and bleeding, as she pulled a mocking, bitter smile. “Heh… Where is he? He’s dead.” She suddenly lunged at me. “Didn’t you know? He was in pain. He was sick. Why didn’t you know!?” 1 I was pinned down, choked, and interrogated by my 31-year-old self. My heart pounded violently, my throat was blocked, and I couldn’t catch my breath. But all of that physical agony paled in comparison to the shock of what she had just said. Caleb was dead? How was that possible?! It was even more absurd and laughable than the fact that I had inexplicably traveled ten years into the future. Caleb Hayes had crawled his way out of a dirt-poor rural town in the Appalachians. He had more vitality than wild weeds. He was hardworking and ambitious. Flash floods and near-starvation in the mountains hadn’t taken his life. How could he die in the prosperity of the city? I shook my head desperately, struggling against her. The 31-year-old Fiona was far too frail. She was no match for me. I shoved her off my body. Terrified she would lunge again, I backed away cautiously, my hand blindly grabbing a dust-covered vase from a nearby table. “Explain yourself! What do you mean he’s dead?” The horrifyingly emaciated woman slumped in the corner. Her body was paper-thin, her collarbones jutting out sharply, rising and falling with her weak breaths. Her gaze shifted. It landed on the vase in my hands. Her voice sounded like sandpaper scraping against the back of her throat. “Do you remember that vase?” I looked down, barely recognizing the object under its thick coat of dust. “This is… the Baccarat Louxor crystal vase Caleb gave me yesterday for my 21st birthday?” My 31-year-old self let out a bizarre, ironic laugh. “Heh. You only remember your birthday. Your birthday presents. Do you have any idea how many all-nighters he pulled for this stupid vase? Do you know how much he sweat through his clothes from stomach pains, swallowing handfuls of painkillers just to afford it?” “Do you know that he had already completely burned out his body, leaving him with less than a year to live?” She dragged herself up, advancing on me step by step. “You don’t know anything! You are reckless, arrogant, and oblivious. You recklessly squandered Caleb’s care and devotion without restraint.” “You are a parasite. To prove he was worthy of a rich heiress like you, he literally drained his own life away.” “And now, what are you doing holding that broken vase? Are you trying to smash my head in?” Before I could react, her skeletal fingers violently seized my hand and forced it upward. Smash! The five-figure crystal vase shattered against the head of the 31-year-old Fiona. Shards of glass rained down onto the floor, mixing with dark red blood. Panic-stricken, I caught my older self as her body slid downward. My fingers pressed uselessly against her wound. The blood welling up between my fingers wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I pressed. “Hold on! I… I’ll call 911! You have to hold on!” Using her last ounce of strength, she snatched my phone away. “I should have died a long time ago.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “But you! You can’t die! You have to go back… go back and save him… please, save him.” As she spoke her final word. Her body suddenly felt incredibly heavy, and then incredibly light. Her breathing stopped completely. I never thought that one day, I would die in my own arms. My entire body trembled violently. I covered my ears and let out a soundless scream. The room spun, and I blacked out. 2 The sound of music grew from distant to near. I snapped my eyes open and sat up, looking around frantically. I was in my familiar, luxurious bedroom. The projector screen was playing my Spotify playlist. My gaze drifted to the crystal vase on the desk and locked onto it. It was clean and brilliant. I gasped for air. Was it all just a nightmare? There was no time travel. Caleb wasn’t going to die. And my 31-year-old self hadn’t violently ended her life in front of me. But my heart was slamming against my ribs so hard my chest ached. Those interrogations, the desperate pleas, the thick, warm blood, my own shattered future self… It was all too real. So real that my fingertips were still shaking. Without even changing out of my silk pajamas, I grabbed my car keys and bolted out the door. The streets at 3:00 AM were terrifyingly empty. My engine roared. I kept my eyes glued to the road ahead. In the thick darkness of the night, a single light shone from the far-left corner of the 12th floor of an office building. I stepped out of my car barefoot, stumbling as I sprinted into the elevator. The glowing red numbers ascending on the screen. They reminded me of the bloody gashes on my 31-year-old self’s head. Every second I waited felt like a torturous execution. The moment the elevator doors cracked open, I bolted down the hall. At the end of the corridor, I threw the heavy studio door open. The person hunched over the drafting desk froze, looking up in surprise at the noise. Caleb was, indeed, pulling an all-nighter for his architecture internship. The halo of the desk lamp outlined his exhausted silhouette. His eyes were entirely bloodshot. Seeing it was me, he quickly set his pen down. “Fiona, what are you…” Before he could finish, I was already sobbing and throwing myself into his arms. Caleb instinctively hugged me tight. His voice was laced with urgent concern: “What happened?” Seeing me in pajamas, barefoot, with my eyes red from crying had clearly terrified him. After repeatedly checking to ensure I was “intact,” Caleb scooped me up and set me on his desk. He tucked my freezing bare feet under the hem of his shirt, using the warmth of his stomach to warm them. Without drawing attention to it, his hand reached out to shut a half-open drawer. I saw it. And suddenly, I realized similar movements had happened countless times before. Except, in the past, I had been completely oblivious and never thought anything of it. This time, I reached out and stopped him. “Why do you close that drawer every time you see me?” I yanked it open forcefully. It was stuffed full of antacids, prescription stomach meds, and heavy painkillers. If, a second ago, I still harbored the faint hope that everything had just been a bizarre nightmare… Now, staring at these medications, I could no longer lie to myself. Tears spilled from my eyes all over again. “Caleb, where does it hurt? I’m taking you to the hospital. We’re going right now. We’ll make it in time!” Ignoring his protests, I jumped off the desk and stubbornly tried to drag him away. Caleb looked a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t used to being the one cared for or coddled by me. He tried to soothe me with a gentle voice: “I’m fine, it’s just a little stomach ache. Old issue. A couple of pills and I’m good. Look, I’m standing right here in front of you, aren’t I?” He tried to smile at me. But a sudden, violent stomach spasm froze the smile on his lips. He pressed his lips tightly together, forcing a tiny bit of color back into his face. “The AC is terrible in here. Let me take you home first, okay?” The moment he saw me, Caleb had draped his jacket over my shoulders. Now, underneath his thin dress shirt, his stomach was convulsing with waves of intensifying pain. Using the motion of crouching down to offer me a piggyback ride, Caleb pressed his right fist brutally into his stomach. He was using a sharper, exterior pain to numb the internal spasms. “Come on, Fiona. The floor is cold. I’ll carry you.” 3 Looking at this endlessly indulgent, gentle man in front of me. I suddenly felt that my 31-year-old self hadn’t cursed me out harshly enough. I shook my head violently. Tears flew from my face, landing on Caleb’s back. “No… I don’t want your jacket. I don’t want you to carry me. I don’t want you to take me home…” My voice was choked and broken. By the end, I was sobbing uncontrollably. I just want you. I want you to live. Caleb misunderstood my words. He turned his head, pulling a bleak smile filled with understanding and self-deprecation. Because of my repeated “no’s,” a layer of ashen despair clouded his eyes. His voice was dry. It sounded like he was finding an excuse for me, but more like he was brainwashing himself. “My jacket… is really old. It’s a knockoff. It might give you a rash. It makes sense you don’t want it.” “Riding on the back of my old bike is beneath you. Let me call your family’s driver to come pick you up, alright?” Caleb lowered his eyes, hiding a messy floor of deep-seated insecurities. “Fiona, you don’t want me to carry you. Is it… because you don’t like this broken body of mine either? Because I’m unworthy?” I froze for a second. And then I realized how Caleb had interpreted my words. I wanted to explain, but I felt there was nothing more pale and powerless than language right now. So I proved it with action. With an almost brutal force, I grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him down, stood on my tiptoes, and kissed him. I shoved all of his bleak, self-deprecating words back down his throat. Urgently, clumsily, and silently, I branded my true feelings directly into his soul. Caleb completely stiffened. This was our first kiss. Since we started dating, we had held so much caution, fantasy, and anticipation regarding our first kiss. For it to happen so abruptly— Caleb opened his eyes wide in shock. The soft touch on his lips and the agonizing spasms in his stomach were equally real. And then. Almost purely out of instinct, he responded to me, deepening it. He took the lead, escalating the kiss. It was no longer just passive acceptance; it was confirmation and demand. Filled with a desperate, burning passion of someone who had just regained something they thought was lost. All of our insecurities, fears, and misunderstandings burned to ash within that kiss. 4 At 4:00 AM, Caleb couldn’t win against my stubbornness, and I successfully dragged him to the hospital. On the way, wearing convenience store flip-flops, I made a phone call. The chief of medicine at the private hospital was an old friend of my dad’s. He had already arranged for a VIP reception. The moment Caleb walked in, he was whisked away for a barrage of tests. Though he thought I was making a mountain out of a molehill, he still indulgently let me boss him around. While waiting for the results, a nurse hooked Caleb up to an IV drip. He politely thanked her. The second the nurse left, he casually reached up and sped up the drip rate. Seeing me glare at him, he obediently dialed it back down. “Fiona, don’t be so tense. I’m going to be fine.” How could I not be tense? How could I not be terrified? I forced a smile, waiting in sheer agony. Because we rushed the labs, two hours later, Dr. Bennett walked into the IV room holding a stack of reports. His gaze lingered between Caleb and me for a moment. He folded the reports and spoke in a casual tone: “The results are in.” He paused, then looked at Caleb. “You still have two bags left on the IV. Family member, come with me for a second, I just need to go over some care instructions.” Dr. Bennett’s eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, glancing imperceptibly toward the hallway. My fingertips instantly turned to ice. But I had to pretend everything was fine. I turned to Caleb and softly instructed: “You stay here and be good. I’ll be right back. Don’t speed up the drip; I’m going to check.” Caleb looked up, seemingly oblivious, and smiled his usual warm, radiant smile. “Alright. Go ahead.” Inside the office. Dr. Bennett’s expression was incredibly grim. He snapped the CT scans onto the lightbox, pointing to an irregular, cloudy mass on the grayscale imaging of the stomach. “Fiona, look here.” “There’s significant thickening of the stomach wall, and the surrounding lymph nodes are enlarged. Combined with the abnormal blood panels and the elevated tumor markers…” He paused kindly, giving me a moment to brace myself. “It’s stomach cancer. And… from the looks of it, it’s highly likely it’s not in the early stages.” Buzz— The world suddenly lost its reality. The footsteps echoing in the hallway, the sound of the doctor’s voice right in front of me… it all faded far, far away. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, a dam of tears broke and flooded my face. An icy shudder crawled up my spine. In an instant, it froze the blood in my veins. Dr. Bennett quickly supported my arm. “Fiona, you have to be strong.” “I know how hard this is, but if you collapse right now, what happens to the patient out there getting his IV?” Thinking of Caleb. The sounds around me slowly came back into focus. Dr. Bennett was right. I had to be strong. I couldn’t let Caleb notice anything was wrong. He had nothing. This body of his was the only thing that had carried him from the rural mountains to the big city. From an impoverished kid to the university’s star valedictorian. If he knew that the only thing he truly owned was already… It was too cruel. I wiped my tears and forced myself to focus on discussing the preliminary treatment plan with Dr. Bennett. Once we established a general direction, I composed myself and pushed the office door open. I pushed the door open just a crack, and then I froze. Caleb was standing right outside. His right hand was holding up his mobile IV pole. He looked at me quietly. Those eyes that were usually smiling were currently as dark and deep as a bottomless abyss. 5 “Finished talking to the doctor?” Caleb’s voice sounded perfectly normal. But his white-knuckled grip on the IV pole betrayed just how violent of an emotional earthquake he had just endured. His left hand, the one with the IV needle, loosely held a bottle of warm milk. He handed it to me. “Passed by the vending machine on the way here. Got you some warm milk. You sit here and drink this. I’m going to go ask the doctor about the follow-up care, okay?” I instinctively blocked the door. But my boyfriend, who usually spoiled me rotten and agreed to everything I said, gently shook his head in disagreement for the very first time. Gently but firmly, he guided me away from the door and sat me in a nearby chair. He pressed his forehead against mine, like he was comforting a frightened child. He whispered: “Be good.” “Just give me a minute.” Then, he turned around, straightened his back, and pushed that office door open. I have no idea what Caleb said to Dr. Bennett in that room. When he came out, he was unnaturally calm. He had the nurse pull his IV, grabbed his prescriptions from the pharmacy, and called an Uber to take me home. He even remembered to lean over and buckle my seatbelt after we got in the car. I was on edge the entire ride. I wanted to speak, but I was terrified of shattering the rare warmth and peace of the night. The car pulled up to the gates of my family’s estate. Caleb paid through his app. He stepped out and opened my door for me. He was the absolute perfect, most considerate lover. The early morning breeze was a bit chilly. He pulled my pajama collar tighter around my neck. His voice was very soft, but it sliced through the silence like a dull knife. “I’ll just drop you off here.” “We… let’s just end it here. Okay?” 6 The pale glow of the approaching dawn fell on his pallid face. Those eyes that always looked at me brightly, overflowing with gentleness and love, reflected absolutely no light right now. They were like a dried-up well. I was stunned. It was like I couldn’t comprehend the meaning of the words he had just spoken. I just stared at Caleb blankly. My voice floated out, barely sounding like my own: “…What?” The very next second. I grabbed Caleb’s collar in a death grip. I was entirely submerged in pain and terror. It felt like if I let go, even for a second, he would completely vanish from the face of the earth. I practically screamed it. “NO!” My voice cracked and shattered. “Don’t even think about it… Caleb, what do you mean ‘end it here’? Don’t even fucking think about it!” Caleb didn’t respond to me. His gaze drifted past my trembling shoulders to the space behind me. It was the estate staff, coming out to check on the shouting. He nodded politely at the maids. Humble and perfectly composed. “Please take her inside.” “She caught a bit of a chill. Please make her a bowl of ginger tea, make sure it’s hot… Thank you.” His eyes returned to me. He smiled incredibly faintly. His voice was clear, but laced with a forced, deliberate distance. “I’m leaving.”

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In the supermarket, I stared at the ribs on the shelf. The price tag read $8.99 a pound. My bank app showed an available balance of $12.50. Today is November 27th. There are still four days until next month’s $150 grocery allowance. I put down the ribs and grabbed a carton of eggs on sale. $2.99 for a dozen. Enough to last four days. At the checkout counter ahead of me, a middle-aged woman was swiping her card. The card reader beeped, displaying the total: $842. I glanced at her groceries—wagyu beef, king crab, and fresh cherries. I lowered my head and placed my eggs on the conveyor belt. My phone buzzed. A text from Eric: “I have a business dinner tonight, won’t be home for food.” I replied: “Okay.” That was the 147th “won’t be home for food” text. I counted. 01 When I got home, my mother-in-law was sitting in the living room. The coffee table was covered with a pile of health supplements, their boxes unopened. “Mom, you’re here.” Martha barely lifted her eyelids. “You’re back? What did you buy?” “Eggs.” She scoffed. “Eggs again. My son makes a million a year, and you feed him eggs every day?” I didn’t say anything. When I put the eggs in the fridge, I saw that it was completely empty. The groceries I bought last week were long gone. “Chloe,” my mother-in-law’s voice came from behind me. “A friend of mine recommended something good. Take a look.” She handed me a flyer. It was for a brand of goat milk powder. One canister was $180, and a full course was six canisters. “This is good for the health. Buy me two courses.” I stared at the number. $180 x 12 = $2,160. My monthly grocery allowance was $150. “Mom, this is too expensive…” “Expensive?” Martha’s face immediately fell. “My son makes a million a year, and you say this is expensive? Is this how you treat your mother-in-law?” “No, I mean—” “Enough.” She stood up and grabbed her purse. “I’m going to tell Eric. His wife is too stingy to even buy a few health supplements for her mother-in-law.” The door slammed shut. The whole house shook. I stood there, still clutching the flyer. $180 x 12 = $2,160. I looked down at my phone. $12.50. At 9:00 PM, Eric came home. He smelled of alcohol. Strongly. “My mom called,” he said, tossing his coat on the sofa. “About the goat milk powder.” I poked my head out of the kitchen. “Eric, the allowance for this month isn’t quite enough…” “Not enough again?” He frowned. “Chloe, isn’t $150 enough for you to spend? Back in the day, my mom fed our whole family on $50 a month, and now $150 isn’t enough for you?” “Prices are different now—” “Enough.” He waved his hand, cutting me off. “Don’t play the poverty card with me. I already transferred the money for the milk powder directly to my mom. Don’t worry about it.” He walked into the bedroom. The door closed. I stood in the kitchen doorway, my apron still on. The fried rice in the pan had gone cold. That was tonight’s dinner. Eggs and rice. I gripped my phone and typed a line in my notes app: “Nov 27, Goat milk powder $2,160, transferred directly to mother-in-law.” This was the 89th “off-budget expense” I had recorded. The first one was three years ago. Since then, Eric had fixed my monthly allowance at $150. $150. For a month. Enough to buy 15 pounds of ribs, or 50 dozen eggs, or 100 pounds of rice. But not enough to buy one canister of his mother’s goat milk powder. 02 The next morning, before Eric left, I stopped him. “Eric, could you… increase the allowance a bit?” He was tying his tie and paused. “Increase it again?” “Everything is getting more expensive, $150 really is—” “Chloe.” He turned around and looked at me. “Do you know how much pressure I’m under? The company is swamped, I have to support this family, support my mom, and pay the mortgage. Can’t you be a bit more frugal?” “I’m already being very frugal…” “Then be more frugal.” He finished tying his tie and grabbed his car keys. “Don’t compare yourself to other women. Some women buy bags that cost tens of thousands. At least you’re not that kind of person, right?” The door closed. I stood in the entryway, listening to his footsteps fade down the hallway. Be more frugal. I hadn’t bought a new piece of clothing in a year. My winter coat was from before we got married, and my down jacket was five years old, the fur on the cuffs completely worn off. Last month, during my period, I bought the cheapest pads available. Be more frugal. How else could I be more frugal? At noon, I bought vegetables at the stand outside our complex. The owner knew me. “Mrs. Vance, the cabbage is fresh today, 50 cents a pound.” I picked two heads. Less than two dollars. “Is your husband away on business again? Haven’t seen him in a while.” I froze for a moment. “He’s been busy lately.” “Yeah, he’s a big boss,” the owner said with a smile. “I saw his car, that Mercedes, must be at least seventy or eighty thousand, right?” I smiled but didn’t reply. He bought that car last year. $95,000. When he bought it, I asked him, “Could you buy me a cheap car just to get around?” He said, “You’re a housewife, what do you need a car for? Can’t you just take an Uber?” Take an Uber. With a $150 monthly allowance. I never brought it up again. As I was walking back with the vegetables, I ran into my neighbor, Mrs. Lee, at the building entrance. She lived upstairs, and her husband was also a businessman. “Oh, Mrs. Vance, grocery shopping?” “Yes, hello, Mrs. Lee.” She glanced at the bags in my hands, her expression a bit complicated. “Mrs. Vance, can I ask you something?” “Go ahead.” She lowered her voice and leaned in closer. “Is your husband… seeing someone on the side?” 03 “What?” I froze in place. Mrs. Lee looked around and pulled me into a corner of the stairwell. “I’m not just making this up. Last week, I went to look at apartments at The Pinnacle. When the agent was showing me a model unit, I happened to see your husband.” The Pinnacle. That was the most expensive luxury condo building downtown. Averaging a million dollars a unit. “He was with a young woman wearing a mink coat. The agent called her ‘Mrs. Vance’.” My fingers started to go cold. “Are you… sure you saw clearly?” “I’m sure. It was your husband, I recognize him.” Mrs. Lee patted my hand. “I’m not trying to cause trouble, I just thought… you should know.” She left. I stood in the stairwell, the bag of cabbage dropping to the floor. Mrs. Vance. The Pinnacle. Mink coat. I crouched down and picked up the cabbage. My hands were shaking. That night, I sat on the sofa waiting for Eric. I waited until 11:00 PM. The door opened. “You’re back?” I stood up. “Yeah.” He didn’t look at me, walking straight toward the bedroom. “Eric.” I stopped him. “Did you go look at apartments at The Pinnacle last week?” His footsteps paused. Just for a second. Then he kept walking. “Company business. Showing apartments to a client.” “A client?” “Yeah.” He opened the bedroom door. “Going to sleep, busy day tomorrow.” The door closed. I stood in the middle of the living room, gripping the bag of cabbage. Company business. Client. I opened my phone and found Mrs. Lee on WeChat. “Mrs. Lee, the woman you mentioned the other day, what did she look like?” Three minutes later, she sent a photo. “I took this. She was looking at floor plans with your husband.” The photo was a bit blurry. But I could make out the woman’s profile. A sharp chin, wavy hair, wearing a mink coat. I didn’t recognize her. But the hand resting on Eric’s arm—I saw it clearly. There was a small mole on her pinky finger. Very small. But very distinct. 04 The next day, I started investigating. I couldn’t access Eric’s bank statements. He had passwords on all his cards and never let me touch them. But I knew his brokerage account password. I memorized it six years ago when he asked me to help him make a trade. He forgot to change it. I logged in. The transaction history from January of this year. Jan 3rd, transferred out $50,000. Feb 14th, transferred out $20,000. April, transferred out $30,000. July, transferred out $80,000. The receiving account always had the same name: Mia Thorne. Mia Thorne. I memorized the name. Then I started looking up real estate. I didn’t dare go to the sales center at The Pinnacle. But property transactions are public record. I searched all day. Finally, on a real estate forum, I found the transaction record for that unit. The Pinnacle, Unit 1802. Size: 1,800 square feet. Total price: $1.2 million. Buyer: Mia Thorne. Co-signer: Eric Vance. I stared at that line, my heart clenching painfully. 1.2 million. He bought her a 1.2 million dollar condo. While my monthly grocery allowance was $150. I put my phone down. Then picked it up again. My fingers quickly scrolled through the history of the brokerage account. Going back to last year. The money transferred to Mia Thorne totaled over $400,000. $400,000. I stared at that number. And suddenly smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile. It was the kind of smile that tightens your throat and burns your eyes. That night, Eric got home at 10:00 PM. I was in the kitchen heating up food. “Another business dinner today?” “Yeah.” “Which client?” He paused. “Why are you asking so many questions?” “No reason, just asking.” I brought out the heated rice. Scrambled eggs with tomatoes over white rice. He frowned. “This again?” “The allowance is running low, just make do.” “Chloe.” He put down his chopsticks. “Can you stop bringing up money all the time? I work myself to death out there every day, and when I get home, I just want some peace and quiet. Can’t you be a little more understanding?” I didn’t say anything. I put down my bowl and chopsticks, turned around, and went back to the kitchen. “Eat up.” I stood in front of the stove and heard the sound of chopsticks hitting a bowl from outside. Very light. As if nothing had happened. 05 Weekend. Eric said he had company business and left early in the morning. I waited ten minutes after he left, then went out too. I followed his car. Not too close, not too far. He was driving very slowly, as if waiting for someone. Sure enough. In front of a shopping mall, his car stopped. A woman walked out of the mall. Wavy hair, small face, wearing a camel-colored coat. Mia Thorne. She opened the passenger door and got in. I saw her turn her face and kiss Eric on the cheek. The car started and headed toward The Pinnacle. I followed. The security at The Pinnacle was very tight. But there was a coffee shop next door, with floor-to-ceiling windows that perfectly faced the entrance of Building 1. I sat by the window and ordered the cheapest Americano. $3.50. I counted the money in my wallet. $8.00 left. Enough to survive for four days. For those four days, I came here every day. Americano, Americano, Americano, Americano. $3.50 x 4 = $14.00. I saved the money I would have spent on eggs. For those four days, I watched Eric’s car go in and out. Sometimes he came in the morning and left at noon. Sometimes he came in the afternoon and left in the middle of the night. Once, Mia held his arm, and the two of them stood at the building entrance talking for a long time. Her hand rested on her stomach. As if she was telling him something important. I couldn’t see their expressions. But I saw Eric’s action— He crouched down and pressed his face against her stomach. As if listening for a sound. At that moment, my fingers went ice cold. So that was it. No wonder. No wonder he had been getting colder towards me lately. No wonder he never brought up “having a baby” anymore. He already had a baby. It just wasn’t mine. 06 The fifth day. I didn’t go back to the coffee shop. I went somewhere else. Vance Tech. Eric’s company. More accurately, our company. Eight years ago, he was a poor guy with a startup dream and no money. I was the one who gave him the $200,000 I saved before we got married for his startup capital. At the time, I had just resigned from a research institute and held three patents for optical coating technology. He said, “Chloe, marry me, and I promise to give you a good life.” I believed him. I gave him the money, licensed the patents to him, and gave him myself. In exchange for a piece of paper. Party A, Chloe Vance, holds 30% of the shares in Vance Tech. He had probably forgotten about this agreement long ago. I hadn’t. It had always been in the hidden compartment of my nightstand. Stored together with those three patent certificates. The receptionist at Vance Tech didn’t recognize me. “Hello, who are you looking for?” “I’m looking for Sarah Jenkins.” “And you are?” “Her client.” Five minutes later, Sarah stepped out of the elevator. She was my college roommate, became a lawyer after graduation, and jumped ship to Vance Tech as Chief Legal Officer three years ago. But Eric didn’t know this. He never cared who my college roommates were. “Chloe.” Sarah saw me, her brow furrowing slightly. “Let’s talk in my office.” Her office was on the 23rd floor, with half the city’s skyline visible outside the window. I sat down and handed her my phone. “Take a look at this.” Photos. Audio recordings. Transfer records. Real estate information. Everything. Sarah looked at it for five minutes. Then she looked up at me. “What are you going to do?” “Divorce.” My voice was very calm. “I want back what belongs to me.” Sarah nodded. “Do you still have the shareholder agreement?” “Yes. And the patent certificates.” “Good.” She closed her laptop. “Chloe, I’ll be honest with you. This won’t be an easy fight. Eric has deep connections in the company, and the board members are on his side. If you want to take him down, you need to be prepared.” “I know.” “There’s one more thing.” She paused. “Do you know about Mia’s pregnancy?” “Yes.” “Then you should also know she’s the marketing director here. Eric hired her personally.” I didn’t say anything. “Over the past year, Eric has handed a lot of core business over to her. Your dividend payments have also bypassed you and gone straight to her accounts.” “What do you mean?” Sarah looked at me, her eyes complex. “That 30% stake you hold—have you ever received any dividends?” I froze. Dividends? I hadn’t even received a notice for a shareholder meeting. “Eric said the company is still in its growth phase, so there are no dividends…” “He lied to you.” Sarah pushed a document across the desk to me. “Vance Tech had a net profit of 15 million last year. Based on your 30%, you should have received 4.5 million.” 4.5 million. And my monthly grocery allowance was $150. I stared at the document, my nails digging into my palms. “Where did this money go?” “I checked for you.” Sarah pointed at a line of text on the document. “The dividends were transferred to an offshore account. The account holder is Mia Thorne.”

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Tyler cheated on me. When I caught him red-handed, he stripped off my bra in front of a crowd. I was left half-naked and humiliated while he used the distraction to escape with his mistress. Furious, I pressed charges, but he just laughed and dismissed it. “Taking clothes off between a husband and wife is totally normal. It doesn’t count as sexual harassment.” “My affair is just a moral failing.” I wanted a divorce, but everyone turned against me. My in-laws blamed me. “Men always come home after they’ve had their fun. What are you making such a fuss about?” My parents and my brother tried to talk me out of it, too. “Our family business depends entirely on Tyler. Just endure it, okay?” Pitifully, I was insulted and cursed at by the mistress, eventually falling into a deep depression and ending my own life by jumping off a building. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment I received a text from my best friend. “Chloe, your husband is cheating on you. He’s at the Hilton, room 8808.” This time, I still chose to go up and catch them in the act. … I stared at my phone screen. My best friend, Mia, was still sending messages. “I’m staking out the place. Do you want to come over?” I replied immediately. “Yes, wait for me.” But I didn’t head over right away. First, I made a phone call. “Hello, is this the ‘Campus Vanguard’ studio?” “I have some incredibly juicy, live news material. It involves a wealthy CEO’s affair, a wife catching him in the act, and possibly a violent confrontation. The location is the Hilton Hotel. Do you have the guts to film it?” The person on the other end of the line was clearly excited. “What are the details?” I replied. “The targets are my husband and a college student.” The person immediately understood. “We’ll be right there!” In my previous life, after the whole thing blew up, I found out the mistress’s name was Lily. She was a junior majoring in broadcasting at the College of Media. Some of her classmates ran an independent media studio on campus, specializing in gossip and street interviews, and they were somewhat famous. Back then, they even tried to interview me, but my family chased them away. Now, I was going to fight a battle I was guaranteed to win. While driving, I put on my Bluetooth headset and made another call. “Mia, do me a favor.” “Bring your bar card, a voice recorder, a hidden camera, and anything else we can use to gather evidence.” “Book a room right across from 8808 so we have a base of operations.” Mia paused for a second. “Are you sure you want to… gather evidence for a lawsuit?” “More than that. I’m going to give them a grand present.” After hanging up, my eyes turned ice-cold. In my previous life, I had been completely irrational. My brain had exploded, and I forgot to meet up with Mia. I just charged in alone. When Tyler saw me, he slapped me to the ground. He tore my dress and ripped off my bra in front of everyone. I was left half-naked and utterly humiliated. He laughed and said to the hotel staff who rushed over. “What are you looking at? Isn’t it normal for a husband and wife to take their clothes off?” My in-laws arrived and pointed their fingers at me, cursing. “A man has to entertain clients and play along sometimes, and you have to make a huge scene out of it!” “If you aren’t embarrassed, we are!” Later, my parents and brother arrived as well. Instead of comforting me, they held Tyler’s hand and spoke to him subserviently. “Son-in-law, Chloe is just being unreasonable. Please forgive her.” “That construction payment for the family business still depends on you…” I wanted to call the police, but my parents snatched my phone away. Tyler said arrogantly. “What are you going to sue me for? Taking your clothes off? Between husband and wife, that’s not sexual harassment.” And that mistress, Lily, walked away arrogantly under Tyler’s protection. From then on, Lily sent me intimate photos of her and Tyler every day. “You old hag, he stopped loving you a long time ago. Why don’t you just drop dead?” After half a year of this torture, my heart turned to ash. I climbed to the roof of a 28-story building. Right before I died, my phone buzzed. It was a message from my mom. “Chloe, your brother found an apartment he likes, but he’s short $100,000 for the down payment. Could you talk to Tyler…” I let out a bitter laugh, hesitated no longer, and jumped. Now, I was back. I was going to settle all the scores, one by one. 2 I found Mia in the lounge area of the Hilton lobby. Her eyes were filled with worry and heartache. “Chloe, are you sure you want to do this? What if…” “There are no ‘what ifs’.” I cut her off, my tone calm. “I’ve seen the result of ‘what if.’ The result was me dead, while they continued living happily.” Mia was stunned by the determination in my eyes and nodded vigorously. “Okay, I’m with you. Don’t worry about the evidence. High-definition, multi-angle, synced to the cloud. He won’t be able to deny it.” Just then, the people from “Campus Vanguard” arrived. I motioned for them to sit down. “Let’s keep it brief. My husband, Tyler, the founder of Apex Tech, is with a girl named Lily from the College of Media. I want you to film the confrontation and any conflict that follows.” A girl let out a small gasp. “Lily? She’s the most popular girl in our department…” The guy, clearly the leader, looked at me with some apprehension. “Ms. Davis, we can film it, but will there be legal risks if we publish it? Since it involves privacy…” I looked at Mia. “My lawyer is here. She will ensure everything is legal and compliant. As for you, you know how much traffic a first-hand scoop like this will bring.” Profit and excitement are the best motivators. They exchanged glances and nodded decisively. “We’re in! We have pinhole cameras, button cameras, and phones all ready.” I stood up. “Mia, act as my lawyer. Contact hotel security if necessary, just in case he gets violent.” “You three, spread out on both sides of the hallway, find good angles, and wait for my signal.” “When I smash a glass, rush in and film.” Everyone nodded. Everything was set. We went upstairs and made our final preparations in the room across from 8808. I checked the time on my phone. I knew Tyler’s “style” well. He liked to try different things and would spend at least four hours before coming out. Now was the perfect time to go in. I stood in front of room 8808 and rang the doorbell. Sure enough, Tyler’s voice came from inside. “Who is it?” I kept pressing the bell without saying a word. Tyler cursed in annoyance and came to open the door. He was only wearing a towel, his face still flushed. When he saw me, his pupils contracted sharply. First shock, then anger. “Chloe Davis, you’re stalking me!” He gritted his teeth and tried to slam the door shut. I wedged my foot in the door. “What? You dare to do it but don’t dare to face it? Open the door and let the person inside come out and say hello.” I forced my way in. The room was a mess. Lily, panicked, wrapped herself tightly in the blanket. Clothes were scattered on the floor, including her lace underwear and Tyler’s shirt. Tyler was completely enraged. He grabbed my arm. “Chloe, get out! We’ll talk about this at home!” Talk at home? In my previous life, “talking at home” turned into a trial where I was the only one condemned. “We’re talking right here.” I raised the glass I had been holding and smashed it hard on the floor. The three students waiting in the hallway instantly rushed in with their equipment. Cameras pointed simultaneously at the two people on and off the bed. “What are you doing? Who told you to film! Get out!” Tyler completely panicked. Frustrated and angry, he tried to grab the cameras. One guy dodged nimbly, keeping his lens steadily fixed on Tyler’s panicked and angry face. “We are from the independent media outlet ‘Campus Vanguard.’ We received a tip and are here to document the facts!” “Chloe, are you fucking setting me up?” Tyler glared at me with bloodshot eyes, veins popping on his forehead. That look was exactly the same as when he ripped my clothes in public in my previous life. Sure enough, he lunged at me, raising his hand to slap my face. I dodged and shouted. “Mia, come in!” Mia walked in from the doorway, flashing her bar card. “Mr. Smith, I am Mia, the attorney representing Ms. Chloe Davis. Your current words and actions have been fully recorded. I advise you to immediately stop any behavior that could constitute violence or a threat.” Tyler’s face went from red to pale, then to ashen. He didn’t dare to attack again. I walked over to the bed, looked at the shivering Lily, and yanked away the blanket she was clutching so tightly. “Ah!” Lily screamed and hurriedly curled up, exposing herself. “Stop trying to cover up. Weren’t you really into it just now?” “Lily, junior in the broadcasting department at the College of Media, the most popular girl, right?” “Do your parents know you’re trading your body for designer goods?” Lily was trembling all over, tears rolling down her face. “No… Tyler said he would divorce and marry me…” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow and looked at Tyler. “So, Mr. Smith made such a promise? Have you heard of bigamy?” Tyler roared. “Lily, shut up!” He turned to me, lowering his voice with a hint of pleading. “Chloe, let’s go home. We can talk behind closed doors, okay? Don’t let outsiders laugh at us…” I laughed and looked around the room full of cameras. “Tyler, from the moment you brought her into this room, we became a joke.” “But the main characters are you and her.” Hurried footsteps came from the hallway. The hotel manager and security guards had arrived. “Call the police,” I told the manager. “Someone is engaging in illegal prostitution here and attempted to commit violence against another person.” Faced with so many cameras, the hotel manager knew it wasn’t something to mess with and called the police immediately. The police arrived. After understanding the basic situation and reviewing the preliminary evidence, they took all of us to the police station. On the way, I thoughtfully sent messages to both sets of parents. Without them present, this show wouldn’t be exciting enough. 3 In the mediation room at the police station. Less than half an hour later, noisy arguing could be heard from outside. The two families flooded in. My father-in-law’s face was livid, and my mother-in-law’s eyes were swollen and red. “Chloe, what is going on here?” “A man has a few drinks and makes a small mistake while entertaining clients, and you have to take it to the police station? You’ve completely disgraced the Smith family!” My mom spoke cautiously, trying to placate them. “In-laws, please don’t get excited. It must be a misunderstanding…” Both families were exactly the same as in my previous life. I looked up and calmly stated. “It’s not a misunderstanding. He’s suspected of soliciting prostitution and attempted violent assault. I can press charges against him at any time!” “Nonsense! This is slander!” My mother-in-law became anxious. Mia spoke coldly from the side. “According to the evidence we currently have, Mr. Smith and Ms. Lily have maintained an improper relationship for over three months, during which there are multiple records of large money transfers and gifts of luxury goods. Additionally, in the hotel room, Mr. Smith did indeed have the intent and made moves to commit violence against Ms. Chloe Davis, which is documented on video.” A lawyer’s words carry weight. My in-laws’ arrogance immediately diminished. My dad sighed and said. “Chloe, men, well, sometimes they just get confused.” “Look, the payment for the construction materials for our business still depends on Tyler’s help. Making a scene won’t benefit anyone.” My brother chimed in. “Yeah, my brother-in-law is usually good to our family. Just take a step back and let him out. I have a business meeting scheduled for tomorrow.” My heart grew colder bit by bit. Even though I had anticipated this, hearing it again in person still hurt. “If you want to protect him, fine. Let him negotiate the terms himself.” Just then, the door to the mediation room was pushed open again. Tyler walked in, looking defeated, his hair disheveled. Lily followed behind him, her eyes red and swollen, her head bowed. The police officer came in last. “Are both families here? Alright, you can communicate amongst yourselves first. If the victim insists on pressing charges, we will proceed according to procedure.” Tyler looked at me with deep resentment. Before he could speak, Lily spoke up. “Tyler, tell her you want a divorce right now. We can be together legitimately…” I chuckled softly. “It seems the parties involved have confessed. So, it’s not prostitution, but bigamy?” I looked at Tyler. “Apex Tech is in talks with ‘Stellar Capital’ for a Series B funding round, right? The head of Stellar Capital places a high value on the partner’s family stability and moral reputation.” Tyler’s face instantly changed. Everyone showed signs of panic. Tyler’s company was the source of prestige and wealth for both families. Nothing could go wrong. At this moment, Lily was still pouting coquettishly. “Stop threatening Tyler. He’s not afraid.” I sneered. It seemed she knew tricks in bed, but she didn’t understand the selfishness of men. Sure enough, Tyler violently threw off her hand and said sternly. “What nonsense are you talking about? Who said anything about a divorce? My wife and I have a great relationship. You were the one who seduced me!” Lily was struck as if by lightning and froze in place. My in-laws suddenly realized what was happening. They rushed forward and pointed at Lily’s nose, cursing. “So you’re the home-wrecker, you shameless thing! Seducing a married man!” Lily tried to explain, but my mother-in-law slapped her across the face. The scene descended into chaos. I crossed my arms and watched her. “How much of Tyler’s money did you spend? Spit it out.” Hearing the word “money,” both families’ eyes lit up again. “Yes, spit it out!” Lily covered her face, crying intermittently. “Tyler gave it to me voluntarily… He said he loved me…” I looked at Tyler coldly. “You tell me, how much money exactly?” “You don’t have to tell me. I can take this police report and request your bank statements.” Tyler looked awful and mumbled. “I only spent thirty thousand on her…” “Fine. I don’t care about your money, but I own half of the marital assets. She needs to pay me back at least fifteen thousand.” I looked at Lily. “Are you going to transfer the money now or write an IOU?” Lily looked at Tyler desperately, but Tyler kept his head down and didn’t defend her. She spoke tremblingly. “I spent all the money… on bags…” “If you spent it, convert it to cash,” I said coldly. “Luxury goods can be sold second-hand. You write an IOU and pay it off within a month.” “You can choose not to write it, but then we’ll take legal action and sue you for the return of joint marital property. Then, it won’t just be about the money. The judgment will go on your permanent record.” Lily was terrified. Her shoulders shook violently as she cried. “Okay, I’ll write the IOU.” I turned to Tyler. “Tyler, you need to write a letter of guarantee and an apology. You must guarantee to cut off all ties with Lily and apologize for your infidelity and your attempted violence today.” Tyler frowned. “We’re husband and wife. Is this really necessary?” I maintained a serious expression. “You don’t even want to write an apology letter, and you think you can just gloss over this?” “How about we calculate the division of property in a divorce? As the party at fault, let’s see how much you get.” The word “divorce” shocked both families. The muscles in Tyler’s face twitched. He had always been the dominant one in the marriage, and this was the first time his authority had been challenged. Finally, he squeezed a few words out from between his teeth. “Fine, I’ll write it.” Mia was highly efficient and had already prepared the relevant documents. One was the “Confirmation of Debt and Repayment Agreement” for Lily. The other were the “Letter of Guarantee” and “Letter of Apology” for Tyler. “Sign,” I said, pushing the pen towards them. Both of them signed reluctantly and pressed their red thumbprints. The police thought we had reconciled and let us go. But I smiled. Why would I stop so easily? 4 Leaving the police station, I got into Mia’s car alone. “Here’s the police report, and Tyler’s apology letter admitting to the affair. With these documents, we can request records for all of Tyler’s bank accounts and property information. We’re also ready to sue Tyler, apply for property preservation, and freeze his company accounts…” Mia gave me a thumbs up. “So you were planning a major move. I thought you actually forgave Tyler.” I smiled lightly. “Why would I keep a trashy man?” Next, I contacted the head of “Campus Vanguard.” “Release two video clips first, but not the whole thing.” “Hide the real names and publish it after 10 a.m. tomorrow.” The person sent back an “OK” gesture, clearly well-versed in this. The next day, at 10:05 a.m. I refreshed the popular local forum. A post with the word “Explosive” next to the title was pinned to the homepage. #CEO of Tech Company Caught Cheating with College Student in Hotel! The post included pictures, text, audio, and video. Although it was blurred, anyone familiar with them could immediately identify who it was. The comment section updated rapidly. “Holy shit! This is explosive! Tech company CEO? Could it be Apex, the one that’s been making waves recently?” “So it’s an affair + attempted violence + money dispute? This is huge!” “Am I the only one who cares how much that college student signed an IOU for? Fifteen thousand?” “Isn’t Apex Tech in talks for a Series B? Will investors pull out when they see this?” The flames of public opinion ignited as expected and spread to the capital market at an alarming speed. At 10:20 a.m., Tyler called. I pressed the record button. “Chloe, what’s going on?” he shouted hoarsely. “Are you behind that stuff online? What did you promise me last night?” My voice was calm. “That’s the media. They have freedom of the press. They report the facts. What right do I have to interfere?” “Stop playing dumb!” he roared. “Tell those brats you hired to delete the post! Wipe it completely from the internet!” “If Stellar Capital’s investment falls through, I’ll make you pay!” Suddenly, Tyler’s voice stopped, and the intermittent voice of the PR director came through the phone. “Mr. Lee… canceled… what do we do…” It seemed Stellar Capital had already contacted Apex Tech. Tyler paused, and his tone softened. “Chloe, Mr. Lee from Stellar Capital just called. He said he saw the news online and canceled the afternoon meeting. They might re-evaluate the partnership…” He panted heavily. “Chloe, we’re husband and wife. If one of us goes down, we both go down. If Apex is finished, what good does it do you?” I replied nonchalantly. “Oh, so?” “So you have to help me!” he said urgently. “We’ll hold a press conference, and you’ll come forward to clarify. Just say those are rumors and that it’s a setup by competitors. As long as you help me get through this, I’ll agree to anything!” I stayed silent for a few seconds, then spoke slowly, using a tone that suggested I was persuaded. “Alright.” Tyler was overjoyed. “I’ll arrange it right away, for 3 p.m. today!” I turned to look at Mia, who had been holding her breath and listening. A faint excitement appeared on her face. “He bought it.” “He had to.” I walked back to the desk, picked up the documents, my eyes sharp. “Then let’s prepare an unforgettable gift for him at the press conference.” At 3 p.m., the press conference began. Tyler started reading from his script. “Recently, some false information about me has appeared on the internet, causing severe distress and damage to my personal reputation and the operations of Apex Tech…” “Hereby, I solemnly declare that my wife, Ms. Chloe Davis, and I have a stable relationship and a happy marriage. I have entrusted my lawyer to collect evidence and will pursue legal action…” Many reporters looked skeptical and amused. They had heard these clichés too many times. After the speech, it was time for questions from the press. The first “planted” reporter stood up and asked a harmless question about the company’s development. The host was about to call on the second “planted” reporter when someone in the back unexpectedly stood up. “Mr. Smith, you claim the video and audio are forged. Then how do you explain being caught on camera last night in room 8808 of the Hilton Hotel and subsequently signing a letter of guarantee at the police station? Is it possible that those were also forged?” The question was sharp and hit right at the core. The room instantly fell dead silent. Cold sweat beaded on Tyler’s forehead. He opened his mouth. “My friend from the press, your source of information is inaccurate…” “Whether the source is inaccurate or not, why don’t we ask Mrs. Smith to verify it?” The female reporter didn’t back down and turned her gaze to me. All the pressure, all the focus, instantly converged on me. I slowly raised my head, facing the dense crowd and the flashing cameras. “My relationship with my husband, Tyler, is indeed ‘stable’.” I said, enunciating every word. “Stable in the sense that there is a third party.”

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The year Arthur loved me the most, I became his uncle’s kept woman. The older, dominant man smiled carelessly and told him: “Consider this your first lesson. What you value is nothing but a plaything in the eyes of others.” Arthur hated me to the core. In the end, he agreed to go abroad and accept an arranged marriage. On the day of his grand wedding. I boarded a flight out of the country as fast as I could. With Arthur successfully married, my contract with his young uncle was over. That cold, unfeeling man would no longer protect me. If I stayed in the country, Arthur would kill me. 1 [Oh my god, I just got news, Arthur is coming back to the country tomorrow.] [What? @Chloe, sis, take care of yourself!] [What is she afraid of? Doesn’t she have him protecting her? No matter how much Arthur hates Chloe, she’s still his uncle’s woman.] [Ah, that’s true.] I looked at the messages in the group chat, my face turning pale. It wasn’t like that at all. “What’s wrong?” The man closed his laptop, reaching out to caress my waist, his voice indifferent. I looked up, meeting those pitch-black eyes. “Arthur is coming back?” I asked softly. A half-smile played on the man’s lips: “Why, missed him?” I leaned into his embrace, silent for a long moment, then smiled and acted spoiled: “What if he comes back to get revenge on me? You have to help me.” Alexander Vance pinched my chin, saying carelessly: “He wouldn’t dare.” I instantly froze. How is that possible? I still haven’t forgotten the look in Arthur’s eyes back then. Besides pain, there was overwhelming hatred. Towards Alexander, and towards me. Thinking of this, I subconsciously shivered, then shook Alexander’s arm, “Better safe than sorry. Anyway, when he comes after me, you have to stop him.” Alexander didn’t answer. His long, elegant fingers untied the ribbon at my waist. With a gentle tug, the bow came undone. “Is this the gift you mentioned this afternoon?” he chuckled. He didn’t answer me directly. Which was an answer in itself. But I was truly worried. I knew full well that Arthur had a terrible temper and always held a grudge. I held Alexander’s hand, looking at him stubbornly, wanting a definite promise. The smile in Alexander’s eyes cooled. He said calmly: “Know your place.” …Know my place. Even though Alexander was only seven years older than Arthur, he was the younger brother of Arthur’s father, Arthur’s biological uncle. And even the reason I was kept by Alexander’s side was for him to pave the way for Arthur. I quieted down and let go of his hand. The next second, Alexander swept me into his arms and threw me onto the bed. 2 My first meeting with Alexander was at Arthur’s twentieth birthday party. Arthur held my hand and introduced me to Alexander: “Uncle Alex, this is my girlfriend.” Alexander, who had been conversing with others with a lazy expression, slightly turned his head upon hearing this. I chimed in: “Hello Uncle Alex, I’m Chloe.” The man casually swept his gaze over me, didn’t respond, and turned back. Arthur pulled me away, scoffing: “Don’t mind him, my young uncle is just like that, looks down on everyone.” I nodded, “Seems like your whole family is like that.” Arthur wasn’t happy about that. He pinched my cheek, “Haven’t I been good to you?” I smiled and didn’t argue. But actually, when Arthur and I first met, he acted so arrogant, never looking anyone in the eye. At the birthday party, Arthur held my hand tightly. He introduced me to everyone he met as his girlfriend. No matter how many people hinted, overtly or covertly, that the Vance family had already found him a fiancée, he completely ignored them, and so did I. So much so that later, I was invited to the top-floor office of the corporate tower. A secretary respectfully placed a contract in front of me. Alexander lifted his eyelids: “Arthur is young and hasn’t seen much of the world. You two aren’t a match.” He wanted me to leave Arthur. I flipped to the price page of the contract and smiled: “Too little.” Then I held up five fingers to him. The man’s face was cold, showing no emotion: “You’re not worth this price.” “Really?” I curved my eyes, drawing out the end of my sentence, “Am I really not worth it? Uncle—” The atmosphere almost froze. Alexander narrowed his eyes. After a long time. He tapped the table, and the secretary took the contract away. The air conditioning in the office was strong, or perhaps the oppressive aura around Alexander was too intense, making one feel uncomfortable all over. But I still looked at him with a smiling face. This was also the first time he looked me directly in the eye. Alexander smiled, a very cold smile, completely devoid of emotion. But his tone softened as he told the secretary: “Draft a new contract.” —A sugar baby contract. Alexander wanted to use concrete actions to tell Arthur. A woman like me wasn’t worth it. That day. Arthur excitedly went to find Alexander: “Uncle Alex, Valentine’s Day is coming up, what do you think I should get…” He pushed open the office door. Alexander had me wrapped in his arms. Arthur’s footsteps froze in place. I looked up and said to him apologetically: “I’m with your uncle now.” Arthur stared at me in disbelief. Unable to accept it, he smashed several vases in a row, then asked me with a cold laugh: “Should I call you Auntie now?” Alexander caressed my neck, “She’s not worthy yet.” Arthur was stunned. The older, dominant man smiled carelessly and told him: “Consider this your first lesson. What you value is nothing but a plaything in the eyes of others.” The corners of Arthur’s eyes reddened. He pushed Alexander away. Then he gripped my shoulders tightly, his voice trembling: “I cherished you so much… why, why did you betray me?” He was very strong, it hurt so much I gasped in pain. I still managed to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. I didn’t ask him, since he cherished me, why was he kissing another woman when I was most worried about money? I will never forget the look in Arthur’s eyes when he left. Besides pain, there was only overwhelming hatred. Later I learned. He agreed to go abroad and accept the arranged marriage he had always refused. But I thought, after Arthur went abroad, Alexander would kick me to the curb. I never expected that I would stay by his side for four years. Later I understood. Alexander was waiting for Arthur to get married. Waiting for Arthur to obediently marry the perfect match chosen by the family and have children, waiting for the dust to settle. As long as I was by Alexander’s side for even one day. There was absolutely no possibility between Arthur and me. 3 I wore a short cocktail dress, holding onto Alexander’s arm. In the bustling, lively banquet hall, the lights were brilliant, accompanied by soothing, melodious music, glasses clinking. I secretly gritted my teeth. What was the point of me, the ex-girlfriend, attending Arthur’s welcome-back party? But Alexander insisted on bringing me. Along the way, people greeted Alexander, and he casually nodded to all of them. Until we saw the person at the center of attention not far away. My steps halted. Alexander glanced at me, his dark eyes unfathomable, his smile faint: “Afraid to go over?” I was silent for a moment, but still walked over holding his arm. Arthur, holding a wine glass, raised his eyes. Watching Alexander and me walk towards him step by step. Four years had passed. Arthur had matured a lot. The former flamboyance was gone, replaced by an indescribable, complex aura. He spoke calmly: “Uncle Alex.” The hatred and hysteria from four years ago were gone, calm without any ripples. Ultimately, they shared blood, they were uncle and nephew. No matter the hatred, four years had dissipated it. “Long time no see.” Alexander spoke indifferently. Arthur nodded, suddenly smiling, “Yes, it has been.” As he spoke, an elegant and beautiful woman appeared gracefully, walking up to Arthur. She first reminded Arthur to drink less, then smiled and looked over: “Mr. Vance.” Alexander nodded, “Just call me Uncle Alex like Arthur does.” The woman smoothly adapted: “Uncle Alex.” Alexander gave a “Hmm.” I supposed this was the fiancée they had carefully selected for Arthur. I kept my eyes down, trying my best to minimize my presence. Unexpectedly, Arthur didn’t speak. Instead, his fiancée smiled and said: “This must be Miss Chloe? I’ve heard so much about you.” With that, she raised her glass to me, “A toast to Miss Chloe.” A waiter came over with a tray holding exactly five glasses of liquor, all full. I twitched the corner of my mouth: “Is this… for me to drink all of them?” She smiled warmly: “To thank you for taking care of Arthur in the past years.” I picked up a glass and sniffed it gently. Extremely high-proof liquor, definitely not something meant to be consumed at a banquet. This was prepared specifically for me. My alcohol tolerance had always been low. If I downed these five glasses, even if I didn’t end up in the hospital, I’d throw up everything I had, and it would severely damage my stomach. With so many people at the banquet. She just wanted to humiliate me. Whether it was to get revenge for Arthur’s past or to establish her authority as the future Mrs. Vance. Arthur glanced casually, then looked away. I turned to look at Alexander, meeting those pitch-black eyes. Alexander didn’t stop her. His fingertips carelessly caressed the cutout on the waist of my dress. He tacitly agreed. He tacitly allowed Arthur’s fiancée to embarrass me. I tilted my head back and downed the glass in one gulp. The moment the liquor rolled down my throat, it felt like swallowing red-hot iron nails, incredibly spicy. The alcohol content was even higher than I imagined. The corners of my eyes heated up uncontrollably, and the edges of my vision started to blur. Damn. It tasted awful. Just one glass and I wanted to throw up. The waiter handed the second glass to me. My fingertips trembled, and I decisively fell into Alexander’s arms. He caught me. “So dizzy…” I whispered. Alexander didn’t speak, but his thumb wiped away the tears at the corner of my eyes. The remaining four glasses were forgotten. The woman could only smile: “Our wedding is next week, you are welcome to attend.” My voice was hoarse as I said: “Happy wedding in advance.” As for the wedding, I couldn’t attend. The day of their wedding was also the day Alexander would transfer my final payment. So my flight out of the country was also booked for that day. 4 Just one glass, and my stomach was already churning. For the rest of the banquet, Alexander kept his arm around my waist, and I didn’t say another word. As the event was winding down, my steps had already begun to falter. Alexander carried me directly to the presidential suite on the upper floors of the hotel, remaining silent the entire time. I don’t hate Alexander. Not because I took his money, but because my hatred is insignificant to him, so why waste my emotional energy? But the good thing is, I still have money to take. A cold ex turned into warm cash. Thinking of this, I chuckled groggily. When Alexander finished his shower and came out wrapped in a bathrobe, this was the scene he saw. “What are you laughing at?” His voice was deep. Propping my head up, I lay on the bed and looked up. The man’s bathrobe was tied loosely, revealing a large expanse of his chest, even faintly showing his abs. He sat down next to me carelessly, his gaze falling on my face. I couldn’t exactly tell him I was imagining a beautiful future abroad with all that money, could I? I gently played with his fingers, “If it weren’t for you, I would have passed out drunk down there today.” Then, I beamed at him: “Thank you.” Did you catch the sarcasm? If I hadn’t been quick-witted enough to fall into your arms, I would have drank myself to death. Alexander paused. He looked at me for a long time, finally pinching my chin and kissing me. … When I woke up again, it was past midnight. My stomach still felt uncomfortable. I carefully slipped out of Alexander’s embrace. Thankfully, he didn’t wake up. His brows were slightly furrowed; he wasn’t sleeping very peacefully either. I threw on a coat, opened the door, and planned to go to the convenience store to buy some porridge. Only to see a figure leaning against the wall in the corridor. The person was holding a cigarette, his expression indifferent. Hearing the noise, he turned, and our eyes met. There were two presidential suites on this floor; maybe he was staying in the other one. I moved my lips, but ultimately didn’t say anything, bypassing him to walk towards the elevator. My wrist was grabbed, and I stopped. He didn’t speak either, and the two of us just stood there in a stalemate. Finally, I broke the silence: “You never used to smoke.” He tugged at his lips: “People can’t stay in the past forever.” I gave a soft “Hmm.” Arthur lifted his eyelids, his tone calm: “Mia was very happy tonight. If you had finished the wine, she would have been even happier.” I froze for a second, realizing he was talking about his fiancée, Mia. I didn’t know what to say and tried to pull my hand away. But he wouldn’t let go, “It’s so late, where are you going?” Me: “Stomach hurts, buying porridge.” A trace of mockery flashed in Arthur’s eyes, and he sneered: “Chloe, you brought this on yourself.” He scoffed: “You are nothing in Alexander’s eyes.” Of course I know that. But I can’t admit it! After all, Alexander is still my sugar daddy right now. I smiled, looked into Arthur’s eyes, and said earnestly: “You misunderstand him. I didn’t drink the remaining four glasses, and that was all thanks to him.” Yeah, because when I fell into his arms, he didn’t push me away. “Really?” Arthur seemed to be mocking my naivety, “Then did you know that Alexander is getting married?” …What? I was stunned. Seeing through my expression, Arthur said lazily: “He didn’t tell you, which is normal. Saves him the annoyance of you making a scene.” I paused, digesting this for a moment. Then I sighed in my heart. This day was bound to come. I’m leaving on the day of Arthur’s wedding anyway. As for whether Alexander gets married, or who he marries, it has nothing to do with me anymore. After a long silence, I finally noticed Arthur’s gaze fixed heavily on my neck. I looked down. …A reddened hickey. He reached out his hand. I took a step back, my spine hitting the cold wall. Arthur planted one hand on the wall and pinched my jaw with the other. He said darkly: “Can that old man satisfy you?” Gritting my teeth, I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my wrist behind my back: “You’re crazy!” Arthur’s nose brushed against my cheek, and he enunciated every word: “Chloe, you are a fickle, unfaithful woman.” But after saying that, he leaned in to kiss me. Right then. My phone rang in the empty hallway. It was Alexander’s custom ringtone. Arthur’s movements stopped. The ringtone kept playing, like a symphony of death. My fingertips trembled, and I finally pressed the answer button. Alexander’s calm voice came through the receiver: “Get your ass back here.” Those few words seemed to come from not far away, echoing in the spacious hallway. I abruptly looked up. The cold-faced man stood at the door of the suite, looking at Arthur and me with emotionless dark eyes. I didn’t know when Alexander had come out, or how much of our conversation he had heard. My heart sank halfway. Alexander had caught me entangled with Arthur. He wasn’t going to deduct my pay, was he? I silently walked towards Alexander. Arthur watched coldly, then turned and went back into the other suite.

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The morning I found two pink lines on the pregnancy test was the same morning I walked downstairs to find my husband of three years—my strategic, loveless partner in a corporate merger—leading his “haunting ideal” into our living room. Dominic’s face was a mask of cold indifference. “Perfect timing. Sign the divorce papers. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” I stared at the woman standing behind him. Vanessa was delicate, ethereal, the kind of woman who looked like she’d break if you breathed on her too hard. Looking at her, I felt the last three years of my life—the effort, the loneliness, the quiet sacrifices—dissolve into a pathetic joke. I reached for the pen, my fingers trembling. I was ready to let go. But then, a sharp, childish voice slammed into my consciousness: [Mom! Wait! Don’t sign! Dad has no idea his little angel was born a man!] I froze. [Don’t leave yet! Did you forget the trust? The one between Grandpa and Grandma? Whoever produces the first heir gets the entire trillion-dollar estate!] [Dad’s been chasing this ‘perfect woman’ for five years and never realized she’s a biological male. If you leave, I’m the only shot he’s got at an heir—and he doesn’t even know I exist yet!] [The keys to the kingdom are waiting for me to inherit them! Mom, keep your cool!] My fingertips twitched. A second later, I gripped the divorce agreement and ripped it clean in half. 1 Dominic looked at me, his eyes narrowing with contempt. “You tore it?” He let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Joanna, I thought after three years you would have at least learned how to be dignified.” Beside him, Vanessa shivered right on cue, leaning deeper into the crook of his arm. “Dominic, don’t be so hard on her,” she whispered, her voice a breathless soprano. “She… she probably just needs time to process this.” “Dominic,” I said, my voice eerily calm as I looked him in the eye. “We need to talk.” “Talk? About what? You’re the daughter of a family that’s been hemorrhaging money for a decade. What could you possibly have to say to me?” Dominic let go of Vanessa and walked to the mahogany desk. He pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a figure with aggressive strokes, and flicked the paper toward me. The check fluttered through the air, landing at my feet. “Fill in the number yourself,” he said, his tone flat. “Just sign the papers and stop playing games. I don’t have time for your theatrics.” He turned, taking Vanessa’s hand. “Come on, Vanessa. Let’s go.” My unborn son’s voice gave a mental “tsk-tsk.” [The classic billionaire move! Right on schedule. Mom, don’t be mad. The focus is the trillion-dollar legacy!] As they walked away, Vanessa glanced back over her shoulder. It was a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. But as she moved, the silk scarf around her neck shifted, revealing the faint, unmistakable protrusion of a laryngeal prominence. An Adam’s apple. I watched their retreating figures—the way they walked, the way their frames were surprisingly similar—and the confusion in my mind began to sharpen into clarity. Five years. Had Dominic really been that blind? [Mom, you wondering why Dad is so oblivious?] the voice piped up. [Vanessa was raised as a girl from childhood. She saved Dad’s life when he was ten. It’s the ultimate ‘Childhood Savior’ filter. He’s projected this ‘perfect goddess’ image onto her for decades.] [And Vanessa? She’s got gender dysphoria, sure, but she’s also a con artist. Those years she spent ‘studying abroad’? That was for gender reassignment therapy in Bangkok. She hurried back because she was afraid Dad was actually starting to fall for you.] I see. I leaned down and picked up the check. I saw the five-million-dollar limit he’d set and smiled, folding it neatly into my pocket. I looked toward the empty doorway. Not so fast, Dominic. Let’s see how long that pristine white pedestal of yours stays standing. The sound of their car fading in the driveway left the house silent. I stood there for a long moment, my hand resting instinctively on my stomach. “How… how do you know all this, little one?” My son’s voice sounded a bit smug. [The connection is a little glitchy, but I can see things, Mom. I saw Vanessa’s suitcase. Hidden in the lining are medical records from a clinic in Thailand. And in the bottom of her jewelry box? Strips of estrogen pills.] So, Vanessa’s love for Dominic was real enough that she’d go to those lengths. I just wondered if Dominic—the man who valued “perfection” and “legacy” above all else—could handle a “perfect woman” who shared his biological blueprint. I pulled out my phone and dialed an encrypted number. “Mr. Miller? It’s Joanna. I have a job for you. A deep dive. I need it done personally.” 2 The silence that followed the phone call was heavy. My son’s voice came through, smaller this time, almost hesitant. [Mom? Are you sad? Don’t be. He’s not worth a single tear.] Sad? I looked down at the corner of the check peeking out of my pocket and laughed. It wasn’t a bitter laugh; it was a release. “I’m not sad at all.” In fact, I felt a strange, terrifying sense of peace. Three years ago, my family’s empire had been collapsing. As the eldest daughter, I had no choice. The Cross family needed a strategic marriage to solidify their North American holdings, and I needed their capital to save my father’s legacy. On our wedding night, Dominic had brushed my hand away when I tried to loosen his tie. “Joanna, don’t waste your breath,” he’d said. “The only clean, perfect woman in my heart is Vanessa. A woman like you—who would sell herself for a corporate bailout—isn’t fit to touch a hair on her head.” I found out later that because of our wedding, he hadn’t been able to fly overseas to be with a “sick” Vanessa. That became just another reason for him to despise me. For three years, I played the part. I learned to cook the specific meals he liked. I memorized his every mood. When he was diagnosed with a low sperm count, I was the one who went through the grueling cycles of IVF, the countless hormone injections, the physical and emotional toll—just to give him the heir the Cross family demanded. I thought if I gave enough, if I was sincere enough, the ice would melt. But this morning, the plastic stick with two red lines hadn’t even cooled in my hand before he walked in with his “pure, perfect” ghost, demanding I sign my life away. My devotion had been a farce. But now, the game had changed. I pressed my hand against my lower belly, my resolve hardening. “You’re right, baby. Mom is going to get everything we deserve.” But first, I needed a fortress. A safe place to bring my child into the world. I picked up the phone again and dialed the Cross ancestral estate. “Mother? It’s Joanna,” I said, my voice soft and sweet. “I have some news. I’m pregnant.” The line went dead for two seconds before Mrs. Cross erupted into a shocked, joyous cry. “Truly? Oh, Joanna! This is wonderful! I’m coming over right now!” “No, actually,” I interjected gently. “I think… I think I should move back to the estate. I’d feel much safer under your care.” Mrs. Cross’s reaction was even more intense than I’d anticipated. This wasn’t just about a grandchild; it was about the future of a trillion-dollar dynasty. Within an hour, Mrs. Cross’s black sedan was idling at my front door. She took my hands in hers, fussing over my coat, my pale complexion, and then she thrust a black titanium card into my palm. “Use this for whatever you need. Anything. If the Cross heir wants for a single thing, I’ll never forgive myself!” I didn’t decline. I used that card immediately to settle the very last of my father’s predatory debts. The weight on my shoulders vanished in a single swipe. Under Mrs. Cross’s insistence, I packed a small bag and moved into the historic Cross family manor. She settled me into the primary guest suite—the one with the best morning light—with a smile she’d never once shown me in three years. She held my hand, her voice grave. “Dominic is being a fool. He’s been blinded by that… person he’s been seeing. You stay here. I’ll handle everything.” I nodded obediently. But the peace lasted less than twelve hours. By evening, Dominic actually had the audacity to bring Vanessa to the manor. The smile on Mrs. Cross’s face vanished the moment she saw them. “Dominic? Why is she here?” “This house is no place for outsiders. Take her and leave. Now.” Dominic’s jaw tightened. He instinctively pulled Vanessa behind him, shielding her. “Mom! Vanessa isn’t an outsider!” Vanessa began to cry, tears like pearls rolling down her cheeks. “Mrs. Cross, please… Dominic and I, we truly—” In that moment, perhaps because she was genuinely panicked, the carefully cultivated, breathy feminine lilt she used slipped. For a split second, a voice—unmistakably deep and masculine—tore through the air. 3 The living room fell into a jagged, horrific silence. The protective warmth on Dominic’s face froze. Mrs. Cross actually recoiled a step. “What… what was that? Your voice?” Inside my head, my son was howling with laughter. [Hahaha! The original soundtrack! Talk about a hard-core ‘true love’ reveal!] Vanessa immediately clutched her throat, her eyes filling with fresh, frantic tears. “I… I’m so sorry, Mrs. Cross. Dominic. I’ve had such a terrible cold lately. My throat is just… it’s so raw.” Dominic seemed to snap out of a trance, pulling Vanessa back into his side. He cleared his throat, though I noticed a flicker of hesitation before he kissed her forehead. “Mom, Vanessa has always been delicate. Don’t make a scene over a hoarse voice.” As his lips touched her skin, my stomach did a violent flip. I turned my head and gagged. Dominic’s head whipped toward me, his eyes dark with malice. “Joanna! What is your problem? Vanessa explained herself. Who are you putting on a show for?” “If it weren’t for your constant drama, Vanessa wouldn’t be so stressed!” Before the sentence was even finished, his hand swung out, aimed directly at my face. Whack! The sound of the slap echoed through the hall. “How dare you!” Mrs. Cross was trembling with rage. She didn’t hesitate—she swung back with everything she had and slapped Dominic across the face. Crack! Dominic’s head snapped to the side, a red handprint blooming on his cheek. He stared at his mother, paralyzed by shock. [Nice shot! Grandma is a legend!] [Scumbag Dad got what he deserved! That felt good!] Vanessa shrieked, rushing to touch Dominic’s face. “Dominic! Are you okay? Mrs. Cross, how could you hit him? It’s all my fault…” Dominic’s eyes were bloodshot as he looked from his mother to me. A toxic mix of humiliation and panic broke his last thread of reason. “Fine! Fine!” He pointed a finger at me. “Joanna, you think you’re so smart? You think you can manipulate my mother into your corner?” “I’m telling you now, it won’t work! I am marrying Vanessa. Period.” He yanked Vanessa toward him. “We’ve already ordered the dress. A custom gown flown in from Paris! Look at her, Joanna. This is the woman I love. This is the woman who belongs by my side.” “A woman like you isn’t fit to carry her shopping bags!” “You ungrateful brat!” Mrs. Cross’s chest was heaving. “Do you have any idea that Joanna is—” “Mother,” I said softly, cutting her off. I looked at Dominic. My gaze was flat, empty of the love that used to live there. It felt like an exorcism. “You don’t have to yell. I agree. Let’s get the divorce over with.” [Wait, what?!] [Mom, stay calm! The trillion-dollar legacy! We can’t just give it up! The jerk is a jerk, but his money is innocent!] Dominic blinked, stunned for a moment, before a sneer curled his lip. “Finally stopped pretending? Fine. Since you’re being sensible, I’ll increase the settlement. Consider it a buyout for the last three years.” He tightened his grip on Vanessa, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the line of her shoulder—a shoulder that was technically too broad for her frame. “Dominic!” Mrs. Cross tried to step forward, but I caught her arm. “Yes, I want the money,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “I married you for the money. Now that we’re divorcing, I intend to take every cent I’m owed.” Dominic scoffed. “Greedy to the end.” “Just take the payout and get out of my life. Vanessa, let’s go. Let’s not waste another second on people like this. I’ll take you to see the ballroom for the wedding. You’re going to love it.” He led her out without a single backward glance. “Joanna! How could you agree to that? And why did you stop me from telling him about the baby?” Mrs. Cross was near tears, her face flushed with anger. “Mother,” I said, taking her hand. “Is a man like that really the father our child needs?” “Besides, he’s obsessed right now. If we use the baby to trap him, he’ll only resent the child. He might even question if the baby is his. Let him sign the papers first. Let’s have a clean break.” “I promise you, this child will always be your grandson. That will never change.” “The moment he’s born, you’ll be the first to hold him.” Mrs. Cross let out a long, ragged sigh, her face a mix of heartbreak and admiration. I comforted her for a few more minutes before showing her the preliminary bank statements Mr. Miller had sent to my phone. “Mother, there’s one more thing you should see.” I handed her the printouts. As she scrolled through them, her face turned a deadly shade of gray. Over the last three years, Dominic had funneled nearly twenty million dollars to Vanessa. “That… that thief!” Mrs. Cross’s voice shook. She immediately pulled out her phone and gave the order to freeze every single one of Dominic’s secondary accounts. I rubbed my stomach and smiled. Baby, Mom wants the money, but I also want a quiet, safe world for you to grow up in. [But… what about the trillion-dollar legacy?] “Don’t worry,” I whispered, looking out the window as the sun set over the estate. “Let them have their wedding. Let them reach the very peak of their ‘fairytale.’ Tearing it all down at the climax… that’s how you make it fatal.” “Mom has a plan. Just watch.” 4 On the day of the wedding, I wore an oversized cashmere coat and walked into the grand ballroom of the Pierre Hotel. Because their accounts had been frozen, the custom Paris gown had been repossessed. Vanessa had been forced to buy an off-the-rack dress at the last minute. The fit was off. The lace did nothing to hide the sharpness of her shoulders or the rigid line of her frame. Dominic’s face darkened the moment he saw me. “Joanna? What are you doing here? Come to sabotage the day?” I didn’t answer. I simply pulled a folder from my bag and handed it to him. He saw the words Final Divorce Decree and smirked. “So you finally have some sense…” His voice died in his throat as he reached the property division clause. His fingers gripped the paper so hard they turned white. “Total asset liquidation? Half of my shares in Cross Holdings? Joanna, you’re insane.” The room went quiet. Vanessa tugged at his sleeve, her voice tight and high. “Dominic… don’t you want to marry me?” She was breathing fast, her eyes darting around the room. [Mom! She’s terrified! She’s practically crushing the pill bottle in her pocket!] Dominic looked at her, then back at the papers. He snatched a pen from the registrar and signed his name with a violent flourish. “Take it! Now get out!” I tucked the decree into my bag, a tiny, sharp smile gracing my lips. “I wish you both exactly what you deserve. By the way, Vanessa—that dress is… revealing.” Without another word, I turned and walked out. [Mom! We got it! We got it! Half the shares!] My son’s voice was a joyous scream in my head. [Hahaha! Dad’s face was blacker than a cast-iron skillet! He’d do anything for his ‘True Love.’ His IQ is literally zero!] I patted my stomach. “The real show is just starting.” Inside the ballroom, the ceremony reached its peak. “The couple will now exchange their vows and seal their union with a kiss!” Dominic leaned down, tilting his head toward Vanessa. Just as their lips were about to touch… The massive LED screens surrounding the ballroom flickered. The romantic montage of their “journey” vanished, replaced by a grainy video. A man was sitting in a sterile office, talking to a doctor. “How long will the tracheal shave results last?” “Do I need to adjust the estrogen dosage?” “Will the bottom surgery affect… intimate life?” The camera zoomed in, catching the man’s profile in high definition. It was Vanessa.

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Shortly after our engagement was finalized, my fiancé sent a child back to the States for me to deal with. It arrived with an email that read like a casual afterthought: [Evelyn, life in London got a bit tedious, and Tessa and I ended up with a kid. Consider it a gift. Since you’ve always been so compliant and sweet, I figured you wouldn’t mind looking after him. Think of it as practice—once I’m back, you’ll be well-trained to serve as our live-in help.] I didn’t argue. I didn’t send a scathing reply. I simply handed the boy over to the estate manager. Seven years passed. The offshore CEOs were finally called back to the home office for their annual review. Dominic Harrison pulled up to the gates of the Harrison estate in a slate-gray Maybach, leading a motorcade of luxury SUVs like a conquering hero. He leaned against the car, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He tilted his head, sliding his designer aviators down the bridge of his nose. “Missed me that much, Evie? Waiting at the gates just for me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He blew a plume of smoke directly into my face. “Just so you know, for the sake of the kid’s citizenship, Tessa and I got married over in the UK. From now on, you two can treat each other like sisters. Whatever she has, you’ll have too.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a smug whisper. “Our families’ merger is a business deal, right? I’m sure you don’t care about a piece of paper.” He exhaled another cloud of smoke. It hit me full force, making my eyes sting and water. I stepped back, coughing, wiping the tears away. I wasn’t just crying from the smoke. I was retreating out of instinct. Teddy’s father was a notoriously possessive man, and he’d been very clear: I was to keep a respectful distance from the younger men in the family. If he saw his nephew harassing his wife, the Harrison empire would burn to the ground by dinner. … Dominic watched me stumble back and let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Alright, stop the act. I know you’re crying because you’re overwhelmed to see me.” He straightened his tie, looking at me with the kind of pity one reserves for a stray dog. “I’m back now. You can stop playing hard to get. As long as you take good care of Tessa and me, that ‘Mrs. Harrison’ title is still yours to keep. It’s not going anywhere.” I almost laughed. I wiped the last of the moisture from my eyes and looked him dead in the face, my voice steady and cold. “Dominic, what on earth makes you think I still want you?” He took another drag, looking at me as if I’d lost my mind. “You were branded with the Harrison name the day you turned twenty. You’ve spent the last few years raising my kid. Who else would take you now? You’re used goods, Evie.” In that moment, a wave of pure relief washed over me. Thank God I had cut this cancer out of my life years ago. I remembered him at the airport years back, holding me, promising the world. ‘Evelyn, wait for me. Give me five months to prove myself, and I’ll come back to marry you.’ He didn’t even last a month. Tessa Crane’s child was on my doorstep before his first month abroad was over. They had been sleeping together long before he left. Everyone in the city’s elite circles knew; I was simply the last one to be told. Every time I thought about it, my palm itched to hit him. I started to lift my hand. “Mommy!” Teddy suddenly burst through the side door, his little arms outstretched, waiting for me to scoop him up. His father was stuck in board meetings all day, so Teddy had been glued to my side. Just as I leaned down to pick him up, a hand snatched him away. “Who are you calling Mommy? I’m your mother!” Tessa Crane stepped out from behind Dominic’s SUVs, her face contorted with faux-outrage. Before I could react, she slapped Teddy—hard—across his cheek. Twice. My blood boiled. I lunged forward, shoving her back. She didn’t even fall, but she immediately grabbed Dominic’s sleeve, her voice dissolving into a pathetic sob. “Dominic, I just wanted him to recognize me. If Evelyn doesn’t want him to love me, fine, but how could she hit me?” That single cry brought his entire security detail running. They swarmed us, circling Teddy and me like predators. Dominic just stood there, his eyes cold and detached. I pulled Teddy behind my legs, my voice trembling with rage. “Are you all blind? You’re surrounding me for the sake of a mistress? Do you have any idea who I am?” “That’s enough!” Dominic barked. He crushed his cigarette under his heel and pointed a finger at me. “Evelyn, who gave you the right to talk to Tessa like that?” “She’s the real Mrs. Harrison. She’s the boy’s biological mother. Not only are you stopping them from bonding, but you’re insulting her in public?” I scoffed, slapping his hand away from my face. “A social climber like her wants to be my son’s mother? She’s not fit to scrub his floors.” If I hadn’t been “sweet” and “compliant” back then, letting her stay on the Harrison payroll out of some misplaced sense of pity, she would have starved. And this was how she repaid me. Dominic’s temper snapped. He lunged forward, ripping Teddy away from me and shoving him into Tessa’s arms. The courtyard echoed with Teddy’s screams: “You’re bad people! Get away from me! Let me go!” Seeing his face turn bright red from crying felt like a knife to my heart. Then, Tessa did something truly theatrical. She dropped to her knees at my feet, clutching Teddy’s legs, wailing at the top of her lungs. “Evelyn, hate me if you want, but don’t poison my son against me! He’s so small, and he’s calling you Mommy… how could you abuse him behind our backs?” As she spoke, she yanked up Teddy’s shirt, exposing his back. There, stark against his pale skin, were rows of deep, red welts. Dominic’s eyes went wide. When he looked at me again, his expression was murderous. “Eveline! I trusted you with my son, and you used him as a punching bag? Is this your revenge? Because you couldn’t have me, you turned into a monster?” The marks looked horrific—long, vertical red stripes. To someone who didn’t know better, it looked like he’d been whipped. What Dominic didn’t know—what he was too ignorant to understand—was that those were marks from a traditional gua sha treatment. Teddy had come down with a 104-degree fever a few days ago. Because of a rare heart condition, he couldn’t take standard fever reducers. The specialists suggested holistic physical therapy to break the fever. Because of that fever, every nanny, butler, and nutritionist on the estate had already been fired or disciplined by Teddy’s father. He treated this boy like a deity. If he found out what was happening right now, Dominic wouldn’t just be fired. He’d be erased. I saw my own security detail moving toward the gates. I was done playing. I pointed at the two of them, my voice dropping to a dangerous, low vibrato. “Take them down. Teach them exactly how we handle trash on Harrison ground.” Dominic’s face turned a violent shade of red. As he started swinging at my guards, he screamed at me, “Evelyn, you’ve lost your damn mind! One more word and I’m kicking you out of this house! You’ll have nothing!” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Try me.” These guards were hand-picked by the head of the family. Dominic’s hired muscle was no match for them. Seeing that they were losing, and realizing the guards were hesitant to move in while she held the boy, Tessa’s eyes darted around frantically. She suddenly locked her hand around Teddy’s throat. “Stop! Or I’ll kill him!” Teddy thrashed in her grip, his face turning from blue to a terrifying shade of purple. His cries became tiny, wheezing gasps. I didn’t think. I pulled a small decorative letter opener from my belt—a gift from Silas—and drove it into her shoulder. She shrieked and let go. I caught Teddy as he fell, frantically rubbing his chest. “Teddy? Teddy, look at me! Mommy’s here!” His body began to convulse. He was having a massive asthma attack triggered by the stress. I reached into my pocket for his emergency inhaler, but the wounded Tessa lunged at me like a feral animal. She tore at my hair, biting and scratching. “You bitch! You abuse my son and then try to kill him in front of everyone!” Dominic was shouting something, his face pale, but it was all white noise. I managed to get the medicine into Teddy’s mouth. Almost instantly, the wheezing slowed. The convulsions eased. The two of them finally went quiet, staring at the child. But the trauma was too much; Teddy went limp in my arms, unconscious. He needed an IV. Now. I ordered my guards to hold them. I didn’t look back as I carried my son toward the main manor. Dominic’s voice exploded behind me, desperate and hateful. “Evelyn! This is it! You walk away now, and you are nothingto me! You hear me? No one wants a used-up psycho like you!” I didn’t even turn around. “No one wants you, Dominic.” “Hardheaded bitch!” he spat. “Wait until you’re on the street! Let’s see who takes in a piece of trash like you!” I didn’t waste my breath on a dead man walking. I just looked at my lead guard. “Get us to the ancestral estate. Now.” By my watch, the Patriarch was currently leading the family in the annual memorial service. The moment the car stopped at the main house, I sent a runner to interrupt the service while I ran Teddy straight to the private medical wing. Teddy stirred in my arms, his tiny hand gripping the lapel of my coat. “Don’t cry, Mommy… I’m okay…” His sweetness only made the guilt heavier. If I hadn’t brought him to the front gates to face those monsters, this never would have happened. “Ma’am, please, the doctor is ready… the young master will be fine!” The head physician was shaking as he took Teddy from me. He knew exactly whose son this was. As they placed Teddy into the hyperbaric recovery chamber, the doors were kicked open again. Dominic stormed in, carrying Tessa. Seeing me there, a look of smug triumph crossed his face. “Told you,” he sneered. “Claimed you didn’t care, then ran straight to the family elders to tattle? You’re pathetic.” Tessa clung to him, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Evelyn, you stole my child, you stabbed me, and now you’re crashing the memorial service? Do you have any idea what Uncle Silas does to people who disrespect the family traditions?” “The whole city knows,” she whispered, a cruel smile touching her lips. “You cross the Head of the Harrison family, and you don’t just disappear. You cease to have ever existed.” Dominic set her down and shoved the doctor aside, grabbing my arm with a painful grip. “Evelyn, for old time’s sake, I’ll give you one last chance to run before the guards get here. Get out.” Teddy, seeing him grab me, grabbed a heavy glass water pitcher from the bedside table and hurled it at Dominic’s head. CRACK. Dominic’s face went dark. He reached into the recovery area and lifted Teddy up by the collar of his hospital gown. “You little brat! You want to die? You dare hit your father?” Teddy’s face began to turn purple again as he choked. I broke free from Dominic’s grip and slapped him so hard my own hand went numb. “Let go of my son!” Tessa grabbed a handful of surgical gauze, trying to stuff it into my mouth to quiet me. “You bitch, you’re going to get us all killed! If you ruin the ceremony, we’re all dead!” She was screaming, shoving me toward the floor. In the chaos, I went down hard. Dominic looked at me with utter disgust. “Evelyn, I thought you were at least educated. I thought you had enough class to raise my heir. But look at you.” “You’re a lunatic. A child isn’t safe with a woman who’s lost her mind. From this moment on, Tessa and I are taking full custody of Teddy.” He suddenly winced in pain. Teddy had sunk his teeth into Dominic’s hand, biting down with everything he had. Teddy had been raised by me, and only me. He didn’t know this man. To him, Dominic was just the monster hurting his mother. When he was four, he used to try and chase away stray cats with his tiny fists, standing in front of me and saying, “Don’t worry, Mommy, I’ll protect you.” Seeing him now, drenched in cold sweat but refusing to let go, broke something inside me. I kicked Tessa away and tried to grab Teddy, but Dominic grabbed me by the hair and threw me across the room. My head hit the corner of a cabinet. “Evelyn! You turned my own son into a mindless animal!” “Don’t hurt my mommy!” Teddy screamed, lunging again. Dominic caught him by the jaw, squeezing until Teddy’s face bruised. He forced the boy to look at Tessa, who was cowering in the corner. “Look at her, you little shit! That’s your mother! Not this psycho!” “She’s not my mommy! You’re bad! You’re monsters!” Dominic lost the last of his patience. He slammed the boy onto the floor and stepped on Teddy’s chest, his boot pressing down hard. “This kid is broken. Evelyn ruined him. He doesn’t even know his own parents.” He looked down at Teddy with a chilling smile. “Fine. I’ll teach you how to apologize to your father.” He increased the pressure. Teddy’s muffled groans of pain echoed in the sterile room. “Get off him! You animal! You aren’t fit to touch him!” I screamed, crawling toward them, my voice breaking. “He has asthma! He can’t breathe, you idiot! Look at his face!” “If anything happens to him, Dominic, I swear to God, you won’t live to see tomorrow!” Dominic laughed. He looked at me, then at the bloodied, disheveled Tessa. “Asthma? Can’t breathe?” “If he won’t acknowledge me, why do I care if he breathes? Even if I kill him by accident today, it’s your fault for raising him to be a failure.” He grabbed Teddy by the hair, forcing him into a kneeling position. The poor boy couldn’t even hold himself up. He was turning grey. I lunged for Dominic, but he kicked me back and pinned me to the floor, forcing me onto my knees facing Tessa. “The kid is a brat because you’re a failure. Bow down. Give Tessa three formal apologies, and maybe I won’t break his ribs.” He slammed my head down against the tile. Blood from the gash on my forehead began to blur my vision. I didn’t say a word. I just glared at him through the crimson haze. My silence pushed him over the edge. He picked up the letter opener I’d dropped earlier and held it to my throat, his voice a low, terrifying coo. “Tessa has a hole in her shoulder because of you. It’s only fair you give her one back. Unless you want to start bowing…” I didn’t let him finish. I gathered the blood and spit in my mouth and sprayed it directly into his eyes. Dominic froze. He slowly wiped his face, his eyes burning with a demonic rage. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head back. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a choice.” He looked down and kicked Teddy’s limp body. “Watch closely, kid. This is your first lesson. When you’re stupid, you pay the price.” The pain must have jolted Teddy awake. He opened his eyes just as the blade was coming down toward my chest. In a burst of adrenaline no one expected, he threw himself out from under Dominic’s boot and dove in front of me. “No!” Thwack. Hot, metallic-smelling blood sprayed across my face. I stared at Teddy. The world went silent. Tears carved tracks through the blood on my cheeks. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. Teddy’s lips trembled. He reached out a small, shaking hand, trying to touch my face. “Doesn’t… hurt… Mommy… don’t cry…” His hand dropped before he could touch me. Dominic’s eyes were bloodshot. He pulled the blade out and aimed it at my heart again, his voice trembling with madness. “You really are something… you even manipulated my son into dying for you!” The tip of the blade pierced my skin, just an inch deep, when the room was shattered by a deafening gunshot. “The Patriarch is here!”

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