When I saw my husband and his intern making out in the company lounge, reflected in the mirror… I didn’t scream, or snap photos, or quietly plot revenge. Instead, I went to Legal, drafted a divorce agreement, and waited in my office for them to finish. When they emerged, Silas had the girl, Olivia, completely hidden behind him, shielded. “I lost control, it’s my fault. Name your price, just don’t bother her.” The way he protected her, like she was his precious heart… It was as firm and unwavering as he’d been ten years ago, standing before my parents, defending me. “If you won’t cure her, I will! It’s just cancer, isn’t it? I’ll sell everything I own to get her well! If you don’t want her, I do! From now on, I am her only family!” I smiled through the ache in my chest. My expression was gentle as I pushed the divorce agreement toward him. “Consider this divorce agreement repayment for saving my life back then. We’re even.” 1. The girl’s trembling moans signaled the end of their tryst. Silas slowly led Olivia out. Seeing me, a flicker of panic crossed his eyes. But it quickly smoothed into calm. He settled the shaky Olivia onto the sofa, his expression distant. “I had planned to tell you at a more suitable time, but since you’ve found out already, I’ll be direct. I’ve lost the passion of love for you; only the habit of companionship remains. If you can accept her, we’ll continue as before.” His words were a knife slicing through my heart. I never imagined he’d cheat with his secretary. Even less did I expect him to be so candid, as if infidelity was just a small white lie. My hands clenched, my voice trembling. “How long?” He idly spun his wedding ring on his finger. “A year and a half.” That was right after my last chemotherapy session. I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. Olivia suddenly clutched her stomach. “Mr. Croft, I… my stomach hurts.” Silas didn’t wait to hear what I had to say. He immediately called for the family doctor. Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Chen arrived. After taking her pulse, his expression was hesitant, glancing at me briefly. “Ms. Peterson is pregnant. It seems the frequent intimacy might have irritated things. It’s best to go to the hospital for a check-up.” Olivia, her eyes red, chided him. “It’s all your fault! You didn’t use protection last time! And you were so rough just now, so many times. I told you to stop, but you wouldn’t!” Silas ignored me completely, lowering his head to apologize. “My fault, it won’t happen again.” The doting tone made my heart clench. It had been so long since he’d spoken to me so gently. I had to clench my palms tightly to hold back my tears. Olivia then seemed to notice me, pulling away from his embrace and speaking with a wronged air. “Mr. Croft, please don’t act like this in front of your wife. She’ll be sad. Maybe we should forget about this baby; after all, it’s not exactly proper.” Silas frowned, gripping her hand. “Forget about it? What do you mean? If I want you, I will naturally take responsibility! You focus on your pregnancy and have this child. Don’t worry about anything else.” “We’re going to the hospital for a check-up right now!” Silas hastily scooped her up and rushed out. As he strode away, the gust of wind from his clothes knocked me backward. He paused, but didn’t look back. “You go home first. Don’t come to the office for now; she’s easily frightened.” The long-suppressed pain, triggered by the collision, spread through my entire body. Tears flowed ceaselessly, yet he was utterly oblivious. I knew I was no longer the person whose single tear would send him into a panic. I looked around the office, now filled with the traces of a young woman. Contraceptives in the drawer, Olivia’s matching underwear sets. The pen holder now held several lipsticks in delicate shades. Cute labels on the file rack read “Thinking of me today, too.” So, the perfunctory treatment at home, the phone he never let me see, his frequent late-night outings under the guise of “work”… all because he had found someone more important. And the debt of saving my life meant I couldn’t even righteously ask why I was being betrayed. I gave a self-deprecating laugh. I called my lawyer. “Draw up a divorce agreement for me. I’ll take nothing.” Silas didn’t return until after midnight, finding me alone on the sofa. Seeing my face, his smile faded. He habitually reached for my sleeping pills. “Can’t sleep again? Didn’t I tell you not to stay up late?” I didn’t reply, instead handing him the signed divorce agreement. My voice was hoarse. “She’s pregnant. I’ve thought about it a lot. Since you love her, I’ll step aside. Consider it repayment for saving my life.” Silas paused, a flicker of imperceptible anger in his eyes. He tore the agreement to shreds. “Her pregnancy is not unexpected. Your health hasn’t allowed for children these past years. Her child will be your child. I won’t divorce you. After all these years, you only have me. I’ll give you dignity and respect, but as for love, I’ll give it all to her as compensation.” “I’ve already spoken to her. She doesn’t seek status; she just wants to be with me. You don’t have to worry about her affecting your position. Just focus on raising the child. Don’t dwell on meaningless things.” A sharp, delayed pain shot through my heart. I still couldn’t reconcile the distant man before me with the boy who once stayed by my bedside, swearing he’d never let go of my hand. After graduating college, I was diagnosed with early-stage cancer. My parents, who had originally wanted to marry me off for money, abandoned me upon hearing of my illness. Silas gave up his postgraduate studies and entered the business world. He clawed his way from an ordinary person to the owner of a publicly traded company. He provided me with the best medical care, allowing us to love each other for a few more years. During that time, his mother tried several times to get me to leave. He refused, threatening to die, saying I would be his only wife, that he would only love me. I once believed this was the perfect ending to a fairy tale, where the hero and heroine overcame countless hardships to finally be together. But reality delivered a brutal blow just when I thought I could be happy forever. Silas saw my ashen face and softened his tone. “You’re wonderful. I just don’t feel it anymore.” “It’s late. Get some rest. I’ve arranged for Dr. Chen to look after her. Your health is pretty stable now; just go to the hospital if you have any issues.” Dr. Chen had cared for me for five years, a top doctor Silas had hired at great expense. I had told him before that my health was stable and I didn’t need a live-in doctor anymore. He had insisted that my health was never something to be taken lightly. I didn’t say anything, just moved my belongings to the guest room. Silas instinctively reached out to grab my hand, then paused. “Good, she’s pregnant and emotional. Sleeping separately will give her a sense of security. Tomorrow, find some time to move all your things to the guest room.” During my chemotherapy. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t sleep all night, which meant he didn’t rest well either. I once snuck into another room in the middle of the night, but he got incredibly angry and carried me back. He said he couldn’t rest easy if he wasn’t by my side. He couldn’t sleep soundly without my scent near him. For over two thousand nights since then, we had slept in each other’s arms. Arguments and cold wars never separated us. Now, he was saving himself for someone else. I bit my lower lip hard, taking each step as if walking on nails, leaving the marriage bed that held so much of our profound emotions. That night, tears soaked my pillow. I had lost the last person in the world who loved me. Early the next morning, with a pounding head, I took the divorce agreement to Silas’s mother’s house. She never liked me, thinking I was a burden on her son. Hearing about Olivia’s pregnancy, she was even more eager for me to leave. She gleefully prepared a new divorce agreement. Knowing my place, I was offered ten percent of his assets. She implicitly warned me not to bother Silas after taking the money. I didn’t refuse. After all, half a month ago, I had been diagnosed with a recurring tumor. It wasn’t yet clear if it was benign or malignant. She didn’t bother with pleasantries, uncharacteristically speaking softly. “I will do everything I can to make him sign it. You just prepare for your future.” After being politely escorted out of the Croft mansion by the butler, I numbly walked home. But before I could even enter, Silas’s men grabbed me and took me to the hospital. At the operating room door, his eyes were bloodshot. He furiously slapped me across the face. “Who told you to tell my mother about Olivia’s pregnancy? Do you know how much she hates illegitimate children? If I had been a moment later, she would have dragged Olivia in for an abortion!” “Yesterday you acted all calm and detached, turns out you were playing hard to get! If anything happens to her, what will you use to compensate?” After the stinging pain on my cheek, came a numb haze. Ever since he took my father’s slap for me that year, he had said he would never let anyone hurt me again. But in the end, he had ruthlessly slapped me himself. I held back tears, about to speak, when the operating room door opened. His anxiousness was more intense than when I had miscarried a year ago. The doctor’s expression was grim. “The pregnant woman shows signs of bleeding and is currently in critical condition. Family members should prepare blood as soon as possible.” He glared at me, his fury overflowing. “Are you satisfied? If anything happens to her and the baby, you won’t get off easy either!” He dragged me to the blood donation room. “She’s the same blood type as the patient. Draw from her for backup.” I looked at him in disbelief. A year ago, we had a child too. But because of my poor health and severe anemia, I bled and miscarried shortly after the diagnosis. Dr. Chen frowned. “Mr. Croft, your wife is not in good health herself. The last time she had a major hemorrhage… perhaps I should donate instead.” Silas’s eyes flickered with hesitation, but under the doctor’s urgent prompting, he coldly ordered, “Draw from her. The blood type matches.” The needle churned in my vein. I trembled uncontrollably from the pain. But his gaze remained fixed on the operating room door, not sparing me a single glance. Not until the light indicating the surgery was over went out, and I heard muffled conversations beside me. My consciousness was too hazy to understand. After a long while, just as I thought I could finally leave, my arms were held down. Another needle was plunged into my other arm. Silas’s urgent voice echoed in my ears. Not out of concern for my fading consciousness. But, “Don’t change donors! Olivia is frail; it’s best for one person to donate blood to avoid any abnormalities. No matter how much, I just need to ensure the safety of her and the baby!” In my blurred state, I even wished I would just die right then. Returning this life to him would make us even. But somehow, I was still alive. When I woke again, it was late afternoon. Just as I was about to sit up, I heard rustling beside me. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been so insecure back then, if I hadn’t insisted you aborted her baby, she wouldn’t have had that severe hemorrhage and her health wouldn’t have deteriorated so much.” “You already lied to her for me, and now you’ve hurt her again for my sake. I feel terrible about it.” Silas took a deep breath. “Aborting her baby has nothing to do with you. I didn’t want it myself. Her health isn’t good, and that child would have been a burden. Besides, I can’t give you legitimacy now; my child can only be born from you.” “If you’re truly remorseful, then from now on, protect our child well.” Listening to their sticky voices. It felt like a piece of flesh had been ripped from my heart. The pain was so intense I could barely breathe. Yet, he had said then that we would be just as happy even without children. He had said then that I was all he needed in this life. I never imagined that the child who caused me countless sleepless nights of anguish was actually aborted by the man I loved most, just to appease his mistress. I clutched the bedsheet tightly, tears still falling. After the dull thud of a teardrop hitting the floor, the privacy curtain was pulled open. Meeting my desperate, grief-stricken eyes, a flicker of guilt crossed Silas’s face. He reached out to wipe my tears. But I flinched away. He sighed almost imperceptibly. “Since you heard, there’s nothing more to explain. Your health isn’t good anyway, and losing the child was for your own good. Get some rest. I’m taking her to a new room.” The hospital room door closed. I could no longer hold back my sobs. I frantically smashed everything in the room. The IV needle tore across my vein, piercing my skin. But I felt no pain. If I could, I truly wished I had died on the operating table during my cancer surgery that year. Instead of being here, helpless, stabbed again and again by the person I loved most. Perhaps out of guilt, during my week in the hospital, nutrient drips, various tonics, customized meals, and luxury jewelry flowed into my room. Silas himself never appeared. The doctors said he had been constantly by Olivia’s side for days. He hadn’t slept for nights, nor had he gone to the company. On the day of my discharge, he came to pick me up. He reached out to help me up, but I flinched away. He frowned but didn’t insist. “I know you’re hurting inside. Tonight, I’ll take you to an auction. Bid on whatever you like.” “Try to move on. Don’t save my money; after all, it’s the only thing I can give you now.” In the evening, he had the driver take me to the auction house. When I got out of the car, he was already stepping out of another, arm around Olivia. Their gestures were intimate, exactly mirroring how we were when we were first in love. I numbly followed them to our seats. As if to vent, I bid on every item. I even drove up the price of items worth only a few thousand dollars to hundreds of thousands, or millions. But Silas’s attention was entirely on Olivia and the items she liked. He didn’t spare me a single glance. At this moment, my insides were consumed by disgust and resentment. I couldn’t calm down. I threw down my paddle and ran to the restroom. I splashed icy cold water on my face, looking at my gaunt, sallow reflection in the mirror. Olivia appeared behind me, I don’t know when. Her skin was pristine, like jade, her face plump with collagen. A world of difference from me. I said nothing. As I turned to leave, she grabbed me. She stroked her still-flat stomach. “I said those things on purpose that day, for you to hear.” “You’ve seen it, his heart and eyes are completely for me now. If it weren’t for years of sentiment and responsibility, he would have abandoned you long ago.” “If you’re smart, you’d better leave while he still has a shred of affection for you. Don’t hinder our happiness.” I paused. The words “as you wish” were on my tongue, but seeing her challenging gaze, I swallowed them. I scoffed. “I know you’re desperate to get rid of me and take my place, but it’s no use. As long as I’m here, you’ll always be the mistress, and the child in your belly will always be illegitimate.” “He’ll still have to call me Mommy, and he’ll have to take care of me in my old age. I’ll teach him from a young age that mistresses are the most despicable beings on earth. Do you think a life like that will be happy?” Olivia’s anger was palpable. Her eyes burned red as she glared at me. “You won’t believe it until you see it! Fine, keep being stubborn. Since you don’t want to leave, I’ll give you a push!” I ignored her empty threats. When I stepped out, I saw Silas’s worried expression turn to caution the moment he saw me. He only relaxed when he saw Olivia emerge, completely unharmed. The auction ended, and Silas received an urgent work call. He instructed the driver to ensure Olivia and I got home safely. He, in turn, got into another car to work overtime at the company. We rode in silence. But I noticed the road wasn’t leading home, or to Olivia’s place.

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I started a relationship with Eric Vance out of gratitude for an old kindness. It took three years for this possessive and obsessive man to truly accept me. At twenty, Eric and I registered our marriage, then I accidentally became pregnant and gave birth to little James. Until James was seven, I never got a wedding. Eric was always insecure, constantly testing my boundaries, repeatedly seeking reassurance that I truly loved him. And James, following his father’s lead, never learned to respect me. Then, one day, my mother passed away. I handled the cremation alone, dragging my exhausted body home. Only to find myself locked out by James, who was oblivious to my grief and did it on purpose. 1 It was pouring rain outside. I took off my coat and draped it over the urn, pressing the doorbell again and again. It was only late afternoon, but the sky had already turned completely dark. Heavy storm clouds pressed down, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled intermittently, while the wind howled through the streets like the end of the world. It mirrored the turmoil in my heart. My ragged sobs were swallowed by the downpour. The sky wept with me, and tears drenched my entire body. By the time I pressed the doorbell for the last time, I was practically gritting my teeth, my fists clenched as I pounded on the door. Inside the small villa, the first floor was brightly lit. I could vaguely see a cheerful cartoon playing on the large screen in the living room. Eric was away on a business trip in another city, but my biological son, James, was currently warm and dry inside the house. He wasn’t deaf. He was doing it on purpose. This kind of prank, changing the house code after I left, happened periodically. It seemed my persistent ringing had annoyed him. James pressed the intercom button, his voice irritated, “Who told you not to bring a spare key? So stupid! Figure it out yourself!” His still-childish voice, distorted and unfamiliar through the speaker, cut through the surrounding noise. I leaned against the wall, raising a hand to wipe away the rain and tears blurring my vision, trying my best to shield the urn in my arms. I didn’t want my mother to get wet. I hadn’t taken good care of her when she was alive. Now that she was gone, this was the only thing I could do for her. I struggled to suppress the catch in my throat, speaking in a cold voice to James, “I’m going to say this one last time, James, open the door.” The intercom light flickered a few times, and a faint sound from the TV filtered through. Then, James said nothing. The small sliver of light before me winked out. Silence fell over the world. I leaned against the wall, my eyes red-rimmed, my body stiff, as still as a statue in the storm. Perhaps a long time passed, perhaps only a moment. I calmly accepted the reality of having “lost” my son. Then I smiled, blinked, and whispered to my mother, “It’s okay, Mom, let’s go. I’ll take you home.” With that, I turned and walked away into the rain, resolute. From today on, I had lost my mother. And James had lost her too. 2 I took a taxi back to the South End, a district far from the Vance estate. There were few grand skyscrapers here, mostly old, weathered apartment buildings. But it brought me an unprecedented sense of ease and peace. I climbed the narrow, dim stairwell. With each floor, a warm, motion-activated light above my head clicked on. It was as if they were saying to me, “Long time no see, welcome home.” But reaching the fifth floor, standing before the familiar door, I felt my empty pockets and a new difficulty arose. Rainwater dripped from my trousers, quickly forming a puddle at my feet. The cool draft in the hallway instantly raised goosebumps on my arms. I didn’t hesitate for long. I turned and knocked on my neighbor’s door. Soon, the door opened, revealing a young woman with messy hair, wearing pajamas, and a half-eaten apple in her mouth. She looked at me, I looked at her, and we both froze. I had expected Mrs. Martha to open the door, not… I slowly blinked, letting the raindrops fall from my eyelashes, then offered her a polite, flawless smile. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you. I remember my mom left a spare house key at your place. Would you mind getting it for me?” Aubrey, my best friend from years ago, took the apple out of her mouth, her eyes complex as she took in my disheveled appearance. Then she said coolly and distantly, “Wait a moment.” She went back inside, found the key, and handed it to me. I took it, muttering a quiet thank you. What remained was silence. Now, I simply didn’t have the energy to deal with the fractured relationship we had. Forcing another smile, I took the key, opened the door, and went home. I flipped on the light. The sudden brightness stung my weary eyes, causing fresh tears to well up. The apartment was clean and tidy, spotless, every item arranged exactly as I remembered. It was as if Mom had just stepped out for groceries and would be back soon. I carefully placed Mom’s urn on the table. My fingers accidentally brushed against a thin layer of dust on the surface, and I froze, my tears instantly flowing uncontrollably. I helped her escape a failed marriage, freeing her from that cheating, abusive jerk. I told her I’d buy her a big house, that I’d give her a good life. But she always refused. She said she was perfectly fine now, that her daughter was married, and if she worried too much about her old home, she feared I would suffer at my husband’s family. The money I gave her over the years, she saved almost untouched. It became a small passbook, which, along with her ashes, was one of the few belongings she left me. After her divorce, Mom’s favorite thing to do was look through photo albums of James and me. Her rough hands left countless traces of longing on the pictures. But when I brought her to stay at the Vance house for a few days so she could see her grandson more often, she would invariably leave after just one meal. Because Eric didn’t like outsiders in his home, treating her politely but coldly. And James, no matter how much I scolded him, always displayed his disdain and annoyance towards his grandmother. I thought I still had time to change all of this. Who knew Mom had cancer, but kept it hidden from me. By the time I found out and took her to the hospital, it was too late. I sat in the chair, weeping silently, consumed by guilt and remorse. Suddenly, a knock on the door. I assumed it was James, with a driver, coming to find me, and my brow furrowed, a surge of anger propelling me to open the door. Instead, outside stood Aubrey, holding a bowl of ginger tea, and a plump little boy of about four or five. Seeing my stunned expression, Aubrey sighed. She led the chubby child inside my apartment without ceremony, saying, “Soaked to the bone and you’re not going to shower and change? Want to catch a cold and fever?” 3 I still had many old clothes at home, all washed, dried, and neatly put away in the closet by Mom. After showering, I emerged from the bathroom, eyes red, feeling a little lost as I surveyed the scene before me. The TV was on, the little boy sat quietly on the sofa watching it, while Aubrey efficiently wiped down surfaces. Seeing me, the child immediately sweetly called out, “Hello, Godmother!” I gripped the towel I was using to dry my hair, staring blankly at Aubrey. She, in turn, handed me a freshly made bowl of porridge, gestured with her chin for me to eat, then calmly introduced, “This is my son, Bruce, he’s five.” I nearly spat out my porridge, my eyes wide. “You got married?” It wasn’t that I was overreacting, but from our school days, Aubrey had been a staunch anti-marriage advocate. She’d even planned countless times for us to open a retirement home together when we were old. Aubrey raised an eyebrow. “Who says you have to get married to have kids? Cassie, you’re out of touch with the times.” She explained that Bruce was conceived with her handsomest ex-boyfriend. Though they didn’t last long, they had an amicable breakup. The father knew about the child, occasionally sent child support, and was good to Bruce. However, he got married last year, and to avoid complications, Aubrey cut ties with him. I looked at Bruce with a hint of worry, “So he…” After so many years of friendship, our unspoken understanding remained. Aubrey knew exactly what I meant without me finishing. She casually waved her hand, and Bruce immediately jumped off the sofa, huffing and puffing as he ran over, looking up at his mom with bright, dog-like eyes. Aubrey smiled, pinching his chubby cheek. “He’s easygoing, like me. Doesn’t care who his dad is at all.” Aubrey patted the back of his head, and he immediately turned to me, wrapping his short arms around my leg. In a sweet, childlike voice, he said, “Godmother, you’re so pretty. Will you be my mommy too, please?” That word, “mommy,” made me feel a little disoriented. James was a little tyrant at home, his behavior growing more erratic over the years. He always played tricks on me, hurting me with a child’s purest malice, delighted to see my anger. And at some point, he started calling me by my full name. It had been a very long time since he’d called me “mommy.” I swallowed the bitterness in my heart, feeling a surge of joy at Bruce’s “mommy.” I crouched down, pinching his cheek, and smiled, “Before you were even born, I already claimed the title of your godmother. So, of course, I can.” Bruce cheered, his chubby hands wrapping around my neck, cuddling up to me affectionately. Just like a fluffy golden retriever puppy. Much cuter than James. From above, Aubrey’s sarcastic voice drifted down, “I thought someone had forgotten all about our promises.” How could I? You’re my best friend in this life. If Eric hadn’t so forcefully confined me to the house after we married, keeping me from contacting anyone for so long, We never would have drifted apart. Speak of the devil. My phone suddenly rang. The caller, none other than Eric. 4 “Where are you?” As soon as I answered, his familiar, lazy, slightly displeased voice came through. Aubrey directed Bruce to lower the TV volume, then stood with arms crossed, glaring at me with a sour face. Bruce glanced at his mom, then crossed his own little arms, blinking his big eyes at me. The pair, big and small, looked like they were cut from the same cloth, making me unconsciously curve my lips into a small smile. When I didn’t reply, Eric was silent for a moment. Then his tone softened, a coaxing note in his voice, “James can’t sleep. He wants you to read him a bedtime story. Cassie, don’t be mad at the boy.” Always the same. Every time James and I clashed, he’d only say that one thing. Don’t be mad at the boy. As if no matter what James did wrong, what he did to me, I shouldn’t hold it against him. Because James idolized him, those hurts, like countless needles broken off in clothing, wouldn’t pierce Eric. So he thought it was nothing, just childish antics, a child’s mischief, something adults shouldn’t bother with. I let out a soft sigh, feeling weary. And truthfully, I didn’t want to bother anymore. I calmly asked him, “When are you coming back?” On the other end of the line, Eric chuckled, as if pleased, “I knew you’d ask that.” Just before he left on his business trip, his restless secretary sent me a photo. In the picture, the petite secretary was practically falling into Eric’s tall, slender frame, her hand clutching his loosened tie. Eric’s arms were braced against the office desk behind him, his dark lashes lowered, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. Though nothing was explicit, the intimate pose and atmosphere clearly suggested something was amiss. I was already agitated at the time due to my mother’s worsening condition. Seeing that photo, I instantly erupted, having a massive fight with him. Of course, it was a one-sided argument from my end. Eric calmly smiled, watching me fume and get upset over him. Each time, he would wait until I was genuinely heartbroken and angry before deigning to speak. His explanation this time was that his secretary had just accidentally stumbled into his arms while tying his tie, and he hadn’t even touched her. I had pressed him, demanding why he insisted on having someone else tie his tie. Even if he hadn’t touched her, he hadn’t immediately pushed her away, had he? As a married man, did he have no sense of propriety? Eric tried to appease me with a few words, but this time I refused to back down. He then immediately turned cold, saying I needed to cool off. So he abandoned me, went back to the office, and left on his business trip the next day. The ironic part was that even the news of his trip was conveyed to me by that same secretary. We had been in a cold war ever since. Before, it never lasted more than three days, and I was always the one to initiate a truce. This time, Eric was still waiting for me to back down first. But seven or eight days had passed, and Eric hadn’t received my call. When James happened to complain to him, he took the opportunity to call me, offering me an olive branch. After his light chuckle, he indeed asked, “Learned your lesson?” He expected me to apologize, admit my fault, and then gently coax him. Only after I had smoothed things over to his satisfaction would he choose to “forgive” me, and then, as a reward, tell me he’d be back tomorrow. Ten years. He never tired of this trick. But now, I was tired of it. I was silent for a long time, long enough for Eric to sense something was off, and he tentatively called out, “Wife?” I echoed his faint chuckle, my voice as level as if we were discussing the weather. “Eric, come back soon. Let’s get a divorce.” 5 That night, Aubrey and I shared a bed for the first time in ages. Bruce wanted to sleep between us but Aubrey picked him up and moved him to the wall side. He fussed at first, flailing his little arms and legs, but in less than a minute, he was snoring like a little pig. Kids sure have good sleep quality. I lay flat, staring at the ceiling, unable to close my eyes. Aubrey turned over, her arm resting on me, gently patting. My tears immediately welled up. I turned to her, my voice catching, “Mom… she…” Aubrey had seen Mom’s urn. She knew everything. After a moment of silence, she hugged me, patting my back gently, offering no other words of comfort, just one phrase that had woven through our twenty-plus years of friendship: “Honey, I’m here.” That night, like driftwood lost and adrift in the deep sea, having left the harbor of my mother’s embrace, I found a moment of respite and life on the small boat of friendship. No love, and no longer a need for it. With Aubrey and Bruce’s companionship, I managed to pull myself together and began preparing for Mom’s funeral. However, a day later, Eric arrived with James, blocking my doorway. He was tall and slender, dressed in a sharp, expensive silver-grey suit, his hair meticulously styled, accentuating his already handsome features. He held a delicate bouquet of pale pink phalaenopsis orchids, softening his cold, distant aura somewhat. As if nothing had happened, he wore a faint smile and said, “Cassie, I’ve come to take you home.” He knew I was a major sucker for good looks, otherwise, I wouldn’t have subjected myself to him for so long. Whenever he pushed me too far and I wanted to lash out, seeing his handsome face, let alone slapping him, my anger would instantly dissipate by a good third. This time, however, I was unmoved. I calmly told him, “I’ve drafted the divorce papers. They’re in the bedroom drawer. Take a look. If everything’s in order, we can go file them sometime.” The smile on Eric’s lips vanished. His gaze, heavy and dark, settled on me. After finding no trace of jest or capriciousness on my face, he paused. Then, he sidestepped the topic, bending down to nudge the impeccably dressed little boy forward, his voice cool and clear, “James, apologize to your mother.” James, clad in a designer tracksuit, hands in his pockets, put on a defiant, sullen look. Hearing Eric’s words, he awkwardly looked at the stairs instead of me, offering a perfunctory, impatient “Sorry.” Eric then smiled, looking up, though his eyes held little amusement, and asked me, “Is that enough?” So, in their eyes, I used to be that easily fooled? These two… they practically thought I was an idiot. My response was to slam the door shut right in front of them. 6 Eric seemed not to register what had happened. After a while, my phone suddenly rang. When I answered, it was Eric’s angry voice, his temper tightly reined in, asking, “Cassie, do you really have to be so dramatic?” Dramatic? This was dramatic? Then what were all of Eric’s various tantrums before? Vile? I retorted with a cold laugh, “You don’t have to come looking for me, Eric. Right now, seeing you two, I just feel… disgusted.” Eric’s breath hitched abruptly. I had never spoken such harsh words to him. Not even when I was younger, following him around and crying my eyes out after he’d hurt me, had I shown such intense aversion and weariness towards him. In his eyes, I was supposed to be the person who loved him most, who cared for him most in the world. How could I bring myself to say such things to him? Eric’s ragged breathing betrayed a hint of panic, as if he feared hearing me say anything more to wound him. He hastily hung up the phone. I clutched my phone, sinking into the sofa, and let out a deep, shaky breath. In truth, Eric and I were from two different worlds, never meant to cross paths. Eric came from an illustrious family; his parents were business magnates. He grew up in luxury, handsome and charming, a golden boy cherished by everyone. His only regret was that his parents were too busy, and he was primarily raised by his grandmother. His grandmother, advanced in years, doted on her precious grandson immensely. Sometimes, unable to control him, she’d let him run wild and mischievous, spoiling young Eric into an unruly and self-indulgent character. Until little Eric was suddenly kidnapped. The kidnappers were ruthless, not only demanding a hefty ransom but also harboring some disturbing proclivities. Though Eric was eventually rescued unharmed, he suffered a complete mental breakdown, and his personality was irrevocably changed. No one knew what he endured during his captivity. After that, his parents remained busy, with only his grandmother, consumed by guilt, staying by his side, year after year. Later, I was in a car accident. My family couldn’t afford the treatment, and the person who hit me was even poorer than us. I was facing a slow death in my hospital bed when Eric’s grandmother intervened and saved me. By then, she was very old, sitting in a wheelchair, leaning on a cane, her face etched with weariness, but her eyes still held a sharp intelligence. She investigated my family background and spent a few days getting to know me. Then she asked if I would make a deal with her. She said she had saved me, and in return, she hoped I would save her grandson. Her grandson, Eric, was still very young, handsome and intelligent, yet he was gloomy, reclusive, full of sharp edges, unable to integrate into society. She didn’t want to watch Eric drift through life aimlessly, or succumb to self-destruction. But she didn’t have much time left. I didn’t know how to repay a life-saving kindness; it felt like no one left me any choice. I could only agree. That day was three days before I was supposed to start at the prestigious university I had finally gotten into. I had already planned everything: I’d work part-time in college, find a good job after graduation, then help Mom divorce that jerk and give her a good life. My future was bright, within reach. But the reality was, Mom successfully divorced, and I never went to college. I was sent to the Vance home, where I began to fully dedicate myself to Eric, warming him, healing him, letting him climb out of his abyss, built on my very bones. By the day he finally dared to step out of his safe zone and embrace the sunlight. My destiny was already bound to his. Grandma passed away peacefully, without regrets. But she never told me. How much of this life-saving grace, and all the help big and small over the years, did I have to repay before it was considered settled? 7 Eric knew nothing of this. He had become utterly dependent on me. Even after three years by his side, he still harbored suspicions that I would suddenly vanish, leaving him.

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I was Charles Anderson’s trophy mistress, a vixen in bed, bewitching him. Away from the bedroom, I acted like the lady of the house, regularly clashing with his unrequited first love. In others’ eyes, I was a stand-in, madly in love with Charles, destined to be discarded. In reality, I didn’t love him at all; I only loved his money. Using his name, my business flourished. I was on the verge of joining the ranks of the new business elite. I decided to dump him first, feigning a dramatic breakup: “Charles, I’ve spent five years and still can’t make you love me… I’m tired. Let’s break up.” Charles’s sweat dripped onto me, and he looked at me with a half-smile. “Indeed, women change when they get rich. How about this, I’ll bankrupt you, and help you find your original self.” 1 Charles rose from beside me, dressing as he spoke. “She’s coming back to the country today. Prepare a welcome dinner at the Starlight Estate.” “She” was Clara Sterling, Charles’s unrequited first love. Like a boneless cat, I wrapped my arms around Charles’s waist from behind, my perfectly manicured fingers tracing his abs. His body visibly tensed. “Who else will be there?” “Just friends from our circle.” My eyes rolled playfully. “A party needs decent jewelry. I’ve got my eye on a high-grade jade bangle, but it’s a bit pricey… eight hundred thousand.” “Buy it.” I happily kissed his cheek. “Charles, I love you.” Charles was unmoved by my declaration. He grabbed my wrist, saying indifferently, “With nails that long, my back is covered in your scratches.” I gave a guilty smile: “They’re pretty, though… Should I cut them?” “Keep them. They really are pretty.” Charles’s eyes darkened. He pulled me onto his lap and gave me a long, passionate kiss. When I greeted guests at the Starlight Estate, I wore my new jade bangle. I abandoned my usual bedroom vixen persona, smiling gracefully and generously, exuding the air of a virtuous wife. Clara’s sisterhood loudly gossiped about me: “Clara, that’s her, Mr. Anderson’s trophy mistress.” “Her eyes and brows are so similar to Clara’s. Everyone in the circle knows she’s just a stand-in for Clara!” “I heard she used to be a small-time actress, only got where she is today by riding on Clara’s coattails.” “Clara, don’t be sad. Mr. Anderson loves you.” My gaze met Clara’s. She was very beautiful, clearly the product of a privileged upbringing, like a delicate hothouse flower. Rumor had it, Clara had “rescued” a penniless Charles during high school. Clara, however, loved Julian, the golden boy of the city’s elite. She had married Julian early, and they had both immigrated to the States. Charles was with me, using me as a stand-in for Clara. Now, Clara was divorced and back in the country. Many people were waiting to see me, the stand-in, discarded by Charles. I raised my glass, giving Clara a friendly nod and smile. She was surprised by my reaction, freezing for a moment. She was Charles’s darling, and I wasn’t foolish enough to provoke her. Avoiding her was enough. But Clara’s sisterhood wouldn’t let me off the hook. Suddenly, I was harshly shoved, knocking over a champagne tower. I lost my footing, about to fall into a heap of broken glass. I protected my precious bangle, resignedly closing my eyes. The expected pain didn’t come. Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me up. Then, I crashed into a firm chest, inhaling a familiar masculine scent. Clara and her friends really irritated me. No matter, I would go wild. I casually wrapped my arms around the man’s neck, looking at the disposable crony who pushed me, saying, with feigned fragility, “Charles darling~~~ I’m pregnant. Our baby… she almost killed it.” Everyone seemed to hit a pause button, wide-eyed with shock. Charles frowned at me, his eyes showing shock, surprise, and even emotion, his gaze reddening. He always used protection; how could he possibly believe my lie?! He wouldn’t think I secretly tampered with it, would he? 2 “You’re lying… I didn’t push you!” I pointed to the security camera above her head: “Should I call for the surveillance footage?” The crony looked at Clara, hoping she would speak up for her. Clara avoided her gaze, distancing herself from the situation. The crony panicked: “You’re fine, aren’t you? I… I was just joking!” Charles’s anger turned to a cold smile. “Joking? Then I’ll be ‘joking’ with you often in the future. I hope you’ll be laughing then.” Charles was a fearsome figure in the city’s elite circles, decisive and vengeful in his actions. For him to say that meant the crony would certainly suffer. The crony collapsed to the ground, disheveled, and was escorted out by a servant. My original plan was to first stand on the moral high ground, then go wild and press the crony’s face into the broken glass to scare her. I hadn’t expected the big boss to believe my lie and stand up for me. I was just about to confess to Charles. Clara said, “Charles, I want to talk to you.” “Let’s talk in the tea room.” Charles and Clara left together, he didn’t spare me another glance. Was I sad? Of course not. Over these five years, aside from the gifts Charles gave me, the stocks and funds I invested in through him, and the projects I joined through him, had all made me a fortune. Looking at the eight-figure sum in my bank account, I was the happiest, sunniest girl in the world. With Charles gone, I felt like a mouse in a rice bin. Charles’s circle of friends were all wealthy and influential; how could I waste such valuable networking opportunities? I had started my own company, and this welcome dinner was my sales event, with all the guests being my potential clients. I was smooth-tongued, and in the space of one meal, I achieved three million in sales. Charles’s good friend, Ethan, said, “Charles is alone with his first love in a room. Aren’t you jealous?” “I’ll be jealous later. I want to invest five million in your new project.” “What if you lose money?” “If I lose, I’ll go cry to Charles and make him pay me back.” Ethan laughed, “Alright, Charles has really fallen for you.” I had researched Ethan’s project; it wouldn’t lose money. If it weren’t for Charles, Ethan wouldn’t have let me invest. My abacus beads clicked loudly; making money was the happiest thing in the world. However, in front of my patron, I still had to pretend to love him more than money. 3 I peeked around the tea room door, ready to act jealous. Charles saw me and waved me in. “From now on, Clara will be staying at the Starlight Estate. Arrange a room for her. “She’s my honored guest. Pay close attention to her food, clothing, and expenses.” The Starlight Estate was a sprawling traditional mansion. Old money families often had ancestral homes, family compounds. The Starlight Estate was Charles, the self-made tycoon’s, family home, where he spent most of his time. A sudden pang of bitterness twisted in my heart. Indeed, his first love. She appeared and immediately gained access to his home. Ugh, I’ll just use Charles’s card to buy a designer bag to cheer myself up later. I smiled, appearing gracious and composed: “Of course, Charles.” Charles took a sip of tea, his expression detached. “Go.” I led Clara to her room. She initiated conversation with me: “It’s been over ten years, and Charles is truly a big shot now. “You never met eighteen-year-old Charles. He was the only poor student at our elite high school, so rough and shabby, and very gloomy. Julian and a group of rich kids bullied him, even hitting him until he went deaf. If I hadn’t paid to treat his ear, how could a deaf man have risen to become the Mr. Anderson he is today?” So she was using his past debt of gratitude, freeloading here. When he was poor, Clara looked down on him. Now that he’s successful, she’s clinging to him, trying to take him back? We walked across a bridge. Suddenly, Clara pushed me into the lake. “Help! Someone’s fallen into the water!” Clara cried out, then jumped in herself. She grabbed my hair, her eyes venomous. “Tell me, could such icy water cause you to miscarry?” She forced my head underwater. Terrifying memories flooded back… In winter, my father held my head in a frozen water barrel: “I’ve worked hard all day, and you haven’t even made a hot meal! What’s the point of girls going to school? You’re eighteen now, we’ve settled the bride price with the Miller family, you’re getting married!” Clara kept pressing down, preventing me from breathing. I held my breath to my limit, then choked on a mouthful of water. Rage consumed me. I struggled, lifted my head, and punched Clara in the face. Almost out of strength, I dog-paddled to shore. Just then, Charles and the others arrived. I shivered, freezing, and looked at Charles. Charles took off his coat, crouching down to tightly wrap it around me. I huddled in his arms, contemplating how to get revenge on Clara. In our first encounter, I had to make her understand what I was capable of. “Charles… save me!” Clara thrashed in the water, calling for help. Charles told his subordinates, “Get her out.” After Clara was pulled ashore, she cried pitifully, “She accidentally fell in, and I kindly tried to save her. When she reached the bank, she punched me in the face, causing me to lose strength and almost drown…” The bruise on Clara’s face was glaring evidence. Her sisterhood seized the opportunity: “Theresa! You’re so vicious!” “Our kind Clara risked her life to save you, and you tried to harm her!” I clutched my stomach, wailing to the sky, “Charles, our baby… it’s gone!” The guests gasped. Moments ago, they had been looking at me with disgust and contempt, as if I were the villainess. Now, they looked at me with full sympathy, turning to scold Clara and her friends. “Shut up! She just lost a baby, don’t provoke her further.” “She must have been terrified, that’s why she accidentally hit Clara.” “You just got punched; she lost a child.” “If you’re so kind, then stop harassing her.” Charles scooped me up and hurried towards the bedroom. I wrapped my arms around Charles’s neck, triumphantly looking at Clara. Clara stood frozen, her face filled with resentment and jealousy. 4 In the bathroom, Charles pinned me against the tiles. Charles had seen through my lie the moment I confronted the crony. “Let me go!” “Charles… you didn’t use protection!” “Don’t you want a child? I’ll give you one now!” I turned my head to look in the mirror. Charles was kissing my neck, desperately and fiercely, my expression a mix of dark pleasure and triumph. Five years. Whether he ever fell for me, I didn’t know. But he definitely had a physical attraction to me. I picked up his cigarette pack and lit a cigarette. He looked up at me. “Focus.” I laughed, blowing smoke in his face. “It’s too intense. I need a cigarette to calm down.” Then, he became even more intense. … “Today, you made many mistakes. “Reflect on them yourself, and list all your errors.” Charles carried me to the bedroom. I struggled to think. “I shouldn’t have lied about being pregnant.” “Continue.” “I shouldn’t have… hit your first love.” Charles gripped the back of my neck. “You have no idea what you did wrong. It’s alright… we have plenty of time.” I buried my face in the pillow. He’d been working out like crazy lately; his stamina was even better. I wanted to escape. Charles grabbed my ankle, pulling me back to continue. He kissed my swollen lips, wiping away my tears: “Crying so pitifully, do you know what you did wrong now?” Unable to control myself, a thought suddenly struck me: “I shouldn’t have protected my bangle first when I fell.” “Mm.” I smiled. “I knew Charles cared about me.” Charles stroked my back, asking, “I’m letting her stay. Will you be jealous?” “Of course. I love you so much, I’m green with envy.” He sat up, lit a cigarette, his tone and expression detached: “Heh, you don’t love me; you only love my money.” I retorted, unashamed, “How could I be so shallow? I also crave your body.” I took the cigarette from his hand and finished the remaining half. Just then, the butler came in to say that his first love had a fever. “You sleep. I’ll go check on her.” Men turn cold as soon as they get out of bed. Actually, I was a little sad, just a tiny bit. I burrowed under the covers and slept soundly. 5 Waking up early the next morning, I saw Charles standing on the balcony, smoking. I wondered when he had returned. There was a deep sense of loneliness about Charles. After five years together, he remained a mystery; I couldn’t quite see through him. He was rich, handsome, fit, and excellent in bed. He was generous with me, provided me with resources to start a business, and personally taught me many things. He truly was a very charming man. Seeing I was awake, he slid open the door and came in. He walked over and hugged me. He was cold, carrying the chill of the night. The atmosphere was so intimate, I couldn’t help but ask the question that bothered me most: “Am I Clara Sterling’s stand-in?” “Guess.” “I don’t think so.” I flattered him: “Finding a stand-in is the behavior of a low-down jerk. Charles, you’re a man of integrity, you wouldn’t stoop to that.” Charles was amused, kissing my forehead: “Mm, you’re not a stand-in. “Then who are you to me?” I proudly puffed out my chest: “I’m Charles darling’s favorite trophy mistress!” I was playful; he didn’t smile. He frowned, asking, “About the falling in the water incident, don’t you have anything to tell me?” I knew the destructive power of the “first love” trope. So, without evidence, making an unfounded accusation against her would not only make him disbelieve me but also dislike me. “Not for now.” The warmth in Charles’s eyes vanished completely, his expression as if he wanted to strangle me. Sure enough, harming his darling made him unhappy. I decided to stabilize him first, brushing my hair aside, looking seductively alluring: “Charles darling, I’ll give you an explanation later. Please calm down.” Heh heh heh. Clara messing with me was like hitting a brick wall. If I didn’t drive her out of the Starlight Estate, I’d eat my shoe! “Whatever.” Charles stalked off, his robes swirling. My stomach hurt. Grimacing, I pressed my hand to my stomach, already planning how to deal with Clara. Charles returned, bringing stomach medicine and a bowl of millet porridge. My stomach problem was an old ailment from being hungry as a child. In these five years, pampered by Charles, I rarely had stomach pains anymore. I had been enduring the pain, how did he know my stomach was acting up? “Take your medicine, then drink the porridge.” “Oh.” I sniffled, touched, and tugged on his belt. “Charles, I don’t care about your past with her. My bottom line is, you can only sleep with me. If I find you’re not a proper gentleman, I’m done with you.” As a trophy mistress, one shouldn’t always fawn over the patron. Showing a strong side at the right time is more appealing. He looked at me for a long time, his eyes bright: “Okay.” He was hooked.

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Seven years into our marriage, I caught Alaric cheating three times. The first time, he knelt in the pouring rain, begging for my forgiveness. The second time, he roped my parents into a dramatic scene, trying to stop me from divorcing him. The third time, he just gave up, a dismissive smile playing on his lips. “Go find your own fun, then. Happy now?” Happy, absolutely thrilled. It wasn’t until I actually tried it that I finally understood him. The taste of youth and freshness was truly intoxicating. But then, Alaric regretted it. 1 My twenty-ninth birthday. The spacious house felt empty, just me. Alaric, who’d promised to rush back and celebrate with me, sent a text two minutes ago: Got held up, can’t make it. Will make it up to you tomorrow. Almost immediately, his secretary, Bethany, posted something on her social media feed, clearly meant for my eyes. A luxury hotel, hundreds of floors up, overlooking the entire city. In the bathtub by the floor-to-ceiling window, two hands, slick with foamy suds, were intertwined. The intimate scene spoke volumes. The faint mark where his wedding band used to be hadn’t quite faded. I recognized Alaric’s hand instantly. The pathetic irony was, I felt nothing. This wasn’t his first time, after all. The post vanished quickly. Bethany added another update: Oops, posted the wrong thing. Boss is going to kill me! I switched off my phone. My heart was numb, but my body felt chillingly cold, urging me to find some warmth. I drove to my parents’ house. Standing at their front door, I raised my hand to knock, but it felt tethered by an invisible rope, unable to move. So I stood there for a few minutes, rooted to the spot. Inside, I heard hushed voices. My younger brother, Finn. “Mom, Dad, isn’t it Willow’s birthday today?” My mother paused, thinking. “Tomorrow’s your birthday, so… oh, yes, today must be hers.” “Should we call her?” She scoffed. “Call her for what? We’ll just celebrate hers with yours tomorrow. We always do it that way, she’s used to it.” My father chimed in. “Alaric’s probably with her.” My mother’s voice suddenly sharpened. “With her for what? Alaric’s on a business trip, I bet it’s just an excuse not to come home to her. She always has that long face, like someone owes her a million bucks. Whose fault is it if she can’t keep a man’s heart? Besides, Alaric is a big shot now. What big shot doesn’t fool around? She’s making a big deal out of nothing. He hasn’t abandoned his devoted wife, he promised she’d always be the lady of the house, that’s more than enough. Just turn a blind eye, can’t she? All her bickering with Alaric, who can stand it?” My father and brother mumbled their agreement, then the topic shifted, and the family started laughing and chatting again. Only I grew colder, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. 2 Two years ago, when I first caught Alaric cheating, I felt like I’d fallen into an icy abyss. I uttered just two words: “I want a divorce.” When you truly love someone, you can’t tolerate even a speck of dust in your eye. It didn’t matter that he knelt in the rain all night, or that he claimed he’d been drugged, set up. I cried all night, but I still couldn’t bring myself to forgive him. My mother slapped me hard. She pointed a finger at me, yelling, “You insisted on marrying him, and now you want to just divorce him? Do you want our whole family to be shamed because of you?” Seeing my disbelief, she softened her tone, trying to coax me. “Alaric was set up by a scheming woman. Give him another chance, it’s enough.” For a month, Alaric came every day, apologizing and begging for reconciliation. I finally gave in, conceding. But I couldn’t share a bed with him anymore. I just couldn’t get past it. Alaric saw me, thin as a rail, a walking ghost in such a short time, and wept, heartbroken. He wrote me a promise letter, reported his itinerary daily, and took care of me meticulously. Yet, less than six months later, I caught him cheating with his secretary. He said he was drunk, mistook her for me. I simply watched him, silently, until he, in a fit of anger, slammed the door and left. Alaric didn’t beg for my forgiveness this time. He told my parents quite frankly, knowing they would fight his battles for him. My mother accused me of giving him the cold shoulder for six months, which drove him to seek an outlet elsewhere. My father threatened to disown me if I divorced. My brother, whose company Alaric had funded, told me not to be childish, to think about the family. They made a scene at home, then at my office, until they ran out of options to pressure me. My mother even drank some cleaner and ended up in the emergency room for a stomach pump. She cried, snot and tears streaming down her face. “Willow Greene, if you still recognize me as your mother, don’t mention divorce. Our family relies on this son-in-law! Everyone knows I have a golden goose. If you divorce him, how will people mock our family? You can’t be so selfish!” Alaric’s friends, who used to respectfully call me “the wife,” now mockingly advised me. “Come on, Willow, a man at Alaric’s level, who doesn’t have a few ‘confidantes’ on the side?” “You just need to be a wealthy lady at home, spending money. No one can ever supersede you. Honestly, he’s been very good to you.” “Even if it’s not for yourself, think about your… financially dependent family, right?” Alaric didn’t have to say anything; he’d already made his point. I compromised again. This time, my relationship with Alaric plummeted to rock bottom. I treated him like air. After a few failed attempts to engage me, he started coming home later and later. I don’t know how I got through that period. My mind felt clouded, as if I was living behind a glass pane, unable to perceive anything. Alaric’s third affair. He brought his secretary home. Right there, on the living room sofa, they’d just finished. His collar was still unbuttoned, revealing fresh, crimson hickeys. “Why won’t you divorce me?” I asked him. He lit a cigarette, his features softened by the haze, and sighed with a weary helplessness. “Willow, we’re at this age, don’t be so naive. Even if I agree to a divorce, your parents won’t. I’m doing this for your own good.” “They say the first thing a blind man does when he regains his sight is discard his cane. I haven’t. Even if I don’t need it, I’ll keep it safe. So you can continue to be my wealthy wife. We may not have love, but we have family ties.” I actually laughed. “So you finally admit you don’t love me?” Alaric looked at me for a long time, his thin lips curving into a playful smirk. “Yes, I have to admit, even the strongest feelings fade with time. Now, when I see your tears, I feel nothing. Just annoyance.” 3 What stage comes after utter despair? I had no idea. After leaving that place I once called home, I encountered a drunk man trying to grope me. He chuckled, staggering closer. “Hey there, beautiful, where are you off to? Let old Mike give you a ride.” He reached out to grab me. My unfocused gaze settled on him, and a raw, uncontrollable urge for destruction welled up inside me. Die. Just die. All of you, just die! What’s the point of living? Let’s all just not live! In his terrified eyes, I smiled and pulled out a fruit knife. For a while, I’d felt a strong sense of dread about everything around me, always fearing someone would harm me, so carrying a defensive tool gave me a sliver of safety. “What the hell! Are you crazy? What kind of lunatic are you?!” His eyes instantly cleared, and he bolted. I chased him frantically, hurling the most vicious insults I could muster. My heels broke, so I ran barefoot. I chased him until my feet were raw and bleeding, until he vanished from sight. I smashed my phone, everything I could smash. It wasn’t enough. Still not enough! I desperately wanted to release the destructive fury churning in my chest. Let’s all just go down together, everyone just die! Adrenaline surged, propelling my limbs aimlessly. I don’t know how long I walked until I heard the sound of the ocean waves. I sat on the rocks all night, until the sun peeked over the horizon. When calm finally settled, I thought for a long time. My husband was no longer my lover. My family was no longer my family. I had nothing left. Everything most important in my life had crumbled, and yet, a strange sense of peace bloomed within me. No expectations, no hope, no anchor. What corresponded to that? Absolute freedom. So what if the sky fell? Could it get any worse than this? If you can’t beat them, join them. If you’re seen as an outcast, blend in. I felt like I heard my soul shattering, replaced by a lightness in my body. The dazzling sunrise bathed me. I clearly sensed something breaking and reforming within me, all emotions peeling away. Everything became irrelevant. 4 When I opened the front door, Alaric and Bethany were flirting on the living room sofa. The housekeeper, who had pushed me inside, looked a bit awkward. “Sir, Madam is back.” Alaric glanced over, a nonchalant flick of his eyes, then froze. “What happened to your leg?” My voice was calm. “My heels broke, and I got cut by glass.” Bethany whined, “Oh, Willow, I’m not saying anything, but you’re a grown woman. Pulling a vanishing act like that, you had the boss worried sick all night, he didn’t even get any sleep.” She cast a syrupy glance at Alaric, her words loaded with innuendo. Alaric said nothing, giving her a slightly warning glance, yet not without a hint of indulgence. Bethany playfully stuck out her tongue. I smiled. “That’s why, you know, these heels are such poor quality. They made me fall, and my phone broke too. Clearly, I need to invest in better brands. So, would you mind getting me the latest Spring/Summer limited editions from those big labels? Money’s no object, my husband has plenty.” Bethany’s face immediately fell. She tugged at Alaric’s sleeve. But he was looking at me, lost in thought. “It’s my birthday. You won’t even help with such a small favor?” Alaric suddenly laughed. “Alright, let her buy them for you.” He patted Bethany. “You can go home for now. I’m spending my wife’s birthday with her.” Bethany, defeated, glared at me with no real menace before reluctantly leaving. “What do you want for your birthday?” I looked at him. “That talk about an open marriage… does it still stand?” Alaric froze, seeing me pull out my new phone and point it at him. “Say it again for the camera. Just in case you change your mind, for proof.” Alaric seemed to remember something, and instead of getting angry, he laughed. “You can go find your own fun too, happy now?” “What if you regret it?” “Regret?” He scoffed with disdain. “If I regret it, I’m a dog.” I was satisfied. I leisurely instructed the housekeeper to prepare the first-floor room for me. Alaric’s gaze lingered on my phone. “New brand?” I nodded. “Used the old one for too many years, got tired of it. Trying a new brand.” Honestly, it had been a long time since we’d spoken so calmly. But I’m not sure what it was, he sneered, then got up and left. 5 Willow Greene has been acting strangely lately. After years of working, she quit her job cold turkey. She said, why would a rich wife work? Just enjoy life. But he knew she was stubbornly independent, always saying her career was her backbone. Now she buys luxury cars, jewelry, antiques—things she used to show no interest in. She also stopped using the black card Alaric gave her, so he eventually stopped offering it. Now, however, she accepts everything, without question. If she likes something, she just sends him a picture. Her capriciousness is almost endearing. She got a perm, which only amplified her already striking looks. Alaric started to feel a sense of crisis. He asked the housekeeper what Willow had been up to. The housekeeper said she now goes to the gym every day. The gym… was it to please him? Willow had always been so stubborn, he knew. Had she finally come to her senses? Alaric should have been happy, but instead, a strange tightness settled in his chest. Things felt like they were slipping out of his control. Willow shouldn’t be like this. He lit a cigarette in his office, replaying all the recent oddities. An open marriage… No way. Even if Willow had given up on him, she would only seek a divorce by any means necessary. She couldn’t cross that line. The more Alaric thought about it, the more inexplicably agitated he became. Bethany mumbled in his arms, “She’s all dolled up every day. Probably going out to cheat, isn’t she?” A tight string in Alaric’s mind snapped. He roughly grabbed her hair and pulled it down. As she cried out in pain and looked at him in disbelief, Alaric’s face was filled with cold fury. “What Willow does is none of your damn business! Who do you think you are, a side piece, acting like you have a say?” Bethany’s eyes instantly welled up, but she quickly lowered her gaze, begging for his forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I know I was wrong.” Alaric had lost all interest. He grabbed his clothes and left. He happened to be traveling to Sutton for a week on business. Driven by an impulse, he visited a temple they had gone to when they were first married. There was a huge banyan tree there, covered in red ribbons for good fortune. Alaric spent a lot of effort finding the one they had tied. It was severely faded, but he recognized her handwriting immediately: Willow and Alaric, to love each other forever. His eyelids suddenly stung, and a sour ache spread through him, catching up belatedly. Alaric suddenly felt an urgent need to go home, to see Willow. But when he pushed open the door, what he saw was a scattering of clothes on the floor. From Willow’s room came her languid laughter. “Stop it, Adam. Carry me to the shower.” He stood frozen. 6 When I opened the door, I was wrapped in nothing but a bath towel. Adam let out an “Oh,” and turned to look at me, feigning distress. “Willow, didn’t you say your husband was on a business trip? How did he get back so soon?” I smiled reassuringly at him and looked at the doorway. “Why didn’t you say you were coming back?” Alaric was like a statue, silent, frozen in place. The confusion in his eyes was painfully clear, as if he’d never imagined he’d walk into such a scene. After a few seconds, he finally snapped back to reality, erupting in a furious rage. He raised his fist, ready to swing at Adam. Fortunately, Adam, having prepared for this the day we got together, had been diligently exercising to avoid being beaten by my husband. He casually stepped aside, his tone nonchalant. “That’s enough, man. If you hurt me, your wife will be upset. You’re so thoughtless.” I chuckled. “Adam, you should go. My husband probably wants to talk to me. See you next time.” He scooped up his clothes from the floor and, right in front of Alaric, gave me a deep kiss, hooking his chin. “Don’t make me wait too long, Willow.” I smiled and nodded, watching him leave. As soon as I straightened up, a sharp pain shot through my wrist. I was yanked violently into the bathroom. Alaric, his eyes bloodshot with uncontrolled rage, viciously tore off my bath towel and pulled me into the bathtub, turning on the shower. I cried out in pain and slapped him without hesitation. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” The slap made him turn his head, and his reason seemed to slowly return. Alaric’s jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on me. “Willow Greene, how dare you betray me!” I frowned. “Alaric, why are you playing dumb? The day we agreed to an open marriage, you swore you wouldn’t regret it. So what are you doing now?” Alaric’s face grew pale as the water droplets slid down. His thin lips moved slightly. “That’s because—” “Because you were so sure I wouldn’t cross that line? You were so sure I’d just have to grin and bear it, right?” I stretched my arms out over the edge of the tub, openly displaying the intimate marks on my body. Alaric, as if his eyes were pricked, suddenly averted his gaze. His fists were clenched white, subtly trembling. I let out a light laugh. “You’re truly pathetic.” 7 After that heated argument, Alaric retaliated by bringing Bethany directly to the house. The housekeeper went from initial shock to feigning ignorance. I found it unremarkable, even complimenting Bethany on her new, sexy nightgown. Alaric, seeing my nonchalant demeanor, grew even angrier. He roughly dragged Bethany back into the room, determined to make a scene and assert his presence. I slept upstairs, they “worked” next door. I slept downstairs, they “worked” in the living room. Late at night, I was once again woken by loud, high-pitched sounds, pushed beyond my limit. I violently kicked their bedroom door and yelled. “Can you two have some decency? Are you going to let anyone sleep?!” The door quickly opened. Alaric, his bare torso covered in scratch marks, curled his lips into a smirk. “You said you didn’t care. So what are you doing now?” I suppressed the anger bubbling within me. “I don’t care what you do, where you do it, or what positions you use. But I expect you to be quieter when people need to sleep. Is that too much to ask?” Alaric stared down at me for a long time, as if searching for any hint of jealousy on my face. After a standoff, he unhappily quirked his lips. “Sorry, can’t do it.” Bethany, now in a nightgown, emerged and leaned languidly against Alaric. “Oh, sorry, I told him, but he just wouldn’t listen. Well, this is his house, Willow. You’ll just have to put up with it.” Aha, I thought. She’s right. I turned and went back to my room. Half an hour later, I wheeled my suitcase out the door. Alaric saw Adam in the living room, a vein throbbing in his temple. As I brushed past, he grabbed my wrist. “Willow Greene, where are you going?” I jerked my hand away in disgust. “Somewhere I can actually sleep, alright? Happy now?” Alaric blocked my path, his voice losing control. “You’re not leaving!” Adam gave him an elbow to the ribs. “Excuse me, could you move? Don’t crowd Willow. You might not care, but I do.” Alaric grunted, pushed against the wall. Bethany rushed out to help him but was roughly waved away. From start to finish, his gaze was fixed on my face. I even saw a hint of shock and confusion there. I left with Adam, without looking back. “I’ll come back when the house is peaceful again.”

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Alaric married me because my rare blood type could save his beloved. Every time Maeve Kincaid was in critical condition, he’d gently coax me to donate blood, calling it “a friend’s wife’s duty.” Until I found his diary: “Every time she gives blood, she’s as pale as paper. It almost makes my heart stir. Pity, she’s just a walking blood bank.” The day Maeve was discharged, Alaric placed a diamond necklace he’d long bought around my neck: “Maeve needs a bone marrow transplant. Your match is the highest. After this, we’ll truly start our life together.” He’d already signed the consent form for me. I touched my abdomen, smiling and nodding, quietly deleting the prenatal scan report I’d just received on my phone. The doctor had said if a pregnant woman with my blood type donated a large amount of marrow during pregnancy, the fetus would almost certainly not survive. Perfect, Alaric. Your child, like the woman who loved you, was never meant to exist. 1 Alaric married me because my RH-negative blood could save his beloved. Everyone in our social circle knew it, but I, in my naivety, once believed it was love. Until I stumbled upon his diary, hidden in the flyleaf of his copy of Love in the Time of Cholera—a book he never let me touch, and sometimes stared at, lost in thought, a peculiar habit I attributed to his literary leanings. That day, he rushed out, forgetting to lock his desk drawer. Impulsively, I pulled it open. My heart hammered as my fingers brushed against the familiar hardback. I opened it; the flyleaf was smooth. With a fingernail, I gently pried open the almost invisible seam, and a folded, high-quality piece of paper slipped out. On it was Alaric’s forceful handwriting, pressing through the page: “March 15th, Overcast. Donated another 400cc. She didn’t make a sound, her lips so pale they were almost invisible. Lying there, she looked as fragile as a priceless porcelain vase in a museum. My fingertips brushed hers when I handed her the warm tea; they were ice-cold. For a moment, my heart actually clenched. Absurd. Lucy… she’s just a walking blood bank, nothing more. Maeve needs her, and I only need her blood. Get a grip, Alaric.” “May 20th, Rain. She actually baked a cake. How foolish. RH-negative blood, what a perfect coincidence. Or rather, Maeve’s luck, my luck. Looking at her eager eyes, I suddenly felt annoyed. This ‘luck’ must be held firmly. Perhaps, should I consider marriage to lock it down? More legitimate, and safer. Anyway, she seems to love me very much. Love, isn’t it the best kind of chains?” “July 7th, Sunny. Maeve’s condition is stable. Lucy seemed particularly tired today, fallen asleep on the sofa. Sunlight on her face, fine downy hairs, faint blue veins visible beneath her pale skin. Suddenly recalled the first time she fainted in my arms after a donation, light as a feather. That fleeting flicker of my heart still lingers. What a ridiculous and pathetic emotion. She’s just a blood bag, a vital ingredient, a living reserve to ensure Maeve’s safety. Alaric, don’t forget what you truly want.” The last line, the ink still fresh, pressed through the page with a barely perceptible, self-loathing satisfaction: “Every time she gives blood, she’s as pale as paper. It almost makes my heart stir. Pity, she’s just a walking blood bank.” The edges of the paper were slightly frayed, as if frequently touched. I clutched that slip of paper, standing in the empty study in the early summer afternoon, yet I shivered, bone-chillingly cold. The bright sunlight streaming through the window stung my eyes, but not a single ray of warmth penetrated my bones. So, every time he coaxed me onto the donation chair, gently saying, “Lucy, please, honey, it’s a friend’s wife’s duty,” his mind was filled with such frigid, cutting thoughts. A friend’s wife? Ha. What kind of wife was I? I was just a walking, renewable resource, a human blood bag with the label “Mrs. Thorne” stuck on me. My nails dug deeply into my palms, the pain providing the last shred of strength to remain standing. I couldn’t collapse. At least, not here. I meticulously refolded the paper along its original creases, returned it to the flyleaf, pushed the book back into the drawer, and closed it. Every action was terrifyingly steady. Back in the bedroom, I locked the door and slowly slid to the floor, my back against the cold wood. The thick carpet absorbed all sound. I raised my hand, looking at my slender wrist, the veins unusually distinct due to recent frequent blood donations. The faint pressure of the rubber tourniquet seemed to linger there. Pale as paper? Yes, how could I not be, with so much blood loss? And he found it almost “stirring”? How cheap, how cruel, that flicker of emotion. Like a butcher occasionally admiring the docile fur of a lamb about to be slaughtered. The desolate wasteland in my heart, once ablaze with fervent love for him, was now thoroughly frozen by this sudden blizzard, utterly silent. Not even ashes remained. Good. Alaric, thank you for giving me clarity, in the most brutal way. 2 From then on, the way I looked at Alaric completely changed. Before, my gaze was filtered through admiration and a timid desire to please. Now, that filter had shattered, revealing the naked, sophisticated core of his self-interest beneath. He still played the role of the attentive husband. Occasionally, when he came home early, he’d bring a bouquet of flamboyant red roses, never quite to my taste. After social events, he’d lean against my shoulder, smelling of liquor, mumbling vague, almost promises. “Lucy, darling, once Maeve’s condition stabilizes, we’ll go on that belated honeymoon. Haven’t you always wanted to see the Northern Lights in Iceland?” “I know it’s been hard on you lately, I appreciate everything.” “You’re my wife, my closest confidante.” Before, hearing these words would fill me with a subtle sweetness, even if tinged with a slight, uncertain sourness. Now, I only found them deeply ironic. When he looked at me, did those deep, handsome eyes reflect Lucy Thorne, or merely the symbol of an RH-negative blood type? I started to indulge him, becoming even more pliant and silent than before. When he needed blood, I never hesitated, only softly asking each time, “How much this time? I seem to be getting dizzy more easily lately.” He would gently stroke my hair. “Not much, just the usual amount. Afterwards, I’ll have the kitchen make you some nourishing broth, and I’ll personally oversee it.” Personally oversee it? Was he overseeing the broth, or overseeing the recovery of his “blood bag,” ensuring its sustainable use? I lowered my eyes, nodding obediently. But deep inside, a cold spark began to glow quietly in a corner no one could see. I needed time. I needed to plan. Until then, I couldn’t tip my hand. 3 The day Maeve Kincaid was discharged from the hospital was a grand affair. Alaric booked an entire VIP floor at the city’s most expensive private hospital. Flowers were laid out from the elevator to her room. Dressed impeccably in a suit, he personally carried an extravagant bouquet of 999 champagne roses, greeting his “dear friend,” Maeve, who looked delicate and pitiful in her custom hospital gown. As “Mrs. Thorne,” I was naturally present. Dressed in a slightly oversized, old-fashioned suit Alaric had sent, I felt like an awkward accessory. Maeve leaned back in her wheelchair, carefully pushed out by Alaric. She looked up, a weak, victorious smile blooming on her pale face. “Lucy, thank you again.” Her voice was barely a whisper, yet her eyes, like poisoned needles, pricked at me. “Alaric told me everything. This time, it’s all thanks to you. You truly are… a blessing to our family.” Our family. The phrase sickened me, but I managed to conjure a perfectly timed, slightly shy and worried smile. “Please don’t say that, Maeve. Your recovery is what matters most. Alaric, he… he was so worried about you.” Alaric, who was bending down to meticulously adjust the thin blanket on Maeve’s lap, paused at my words, glancing at me. His expression was complex, as if he hadn’t expected me to be so “gracious and composed.” He quickly turned back to Maeve, whispering in a voice I’d never heard from him before, “It’s windy outside. Keep covered. The car’s waiting downstairs.” Watching their backs, I slowly walked behind them, my nails once again digging into my flesh. A blessing to their family? No, I was merely a sacrificial offering, to be used whenever convenient. 4 That evening, Alaric returned earlier than usual. He carried a scent of hospital disinfectant mixed with Maeve’s usual perfume, a nauseating combination. But his expression was relaxed, even showing a rare, genuine contentment. In his hand was a deep blue velvet jewelry box. “Lucy, come here.” He sat on the living room sofa, beckoning me over. I put down the magazine I was pretending to read and walked to him. He pulled me down beside him and opened the box. Inside was a diamond necklace, the main diamond sizable, reflecting cold, brilliant light under the lamps. “Do you like it?” He took out the necklace, reached behind my neck. The cold touch of the metal made me shiver slightly. The clasp clicked shut. The diamond hung heavy below my collarbone, like an ornate shackle. “Maeve’s discharge this time is largely thanks to you. This is a thank-you, and also…” He paused, his finger tracing the edge of the diamond, brushing my skin almost imperceptibly, “…a small, insignificant compensation for what you’re about to do.” Here it comes. I looked up, through the fragmented, swirling light refracted by the living room’s crystal chandelier, maintaining my usual docile dependence, even a touch of well-placed bewilderment. “About to do? Isn’t Maeve well now?” Alaric gazed into my eyes, those always profound and unreadable eyes now clearly reflecting my image—pale, docile, easily controlled. He sighed, taking my hand. His palm was warm, yet it sent a chill through my heart. “Maeve’s condition has changed. Acute myeloid leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant as soon as possible.” His voice was steady, even gentle, as if discussing tomorrow’s weather. “You know, bone marrow matching is difficult. But…” He squeezed my hand slightly, as if conveying resolve, or perhaps exerting an invisible pressure. “Your matching results are in. Highly compatible. A perfect 10 out of 10. The doctor said it’s practically a miracle.” A miracle? I looked at him, suddenly wanting to laugh. Yes, RH-negative blood, a perfect bone marrow match. For them, my existence meant creating these “miracles” again and again, didn’t it? “So?” I whispered, my voice distant, as if from far away. “So, we need you to be the donor.” Alaric’s tone became firmer, carrying an undeniable decisiveness. “This is Maeve’s only, and best, chance for survival. I’ve already signed the consent form for you. The surgery is scheduled for next Wednesday. Lucy, I know this is sudden, and there might be some risks, but Maeve can’t wait. Don’t worry, it’s the best hospital, the best team. I’ll get the top experts to ensure your safety.” He reached out, seemingly wanting to pull me into his arms, his gesture tinged with a patronizing comfort. “After this, we’ll truly live our lives together. I promise you, I’ll never let you suffer like this again. We’ll go to Iceland, see the Northern Lights, just the two of us, okay?” Iceland, the Northern Lights. He had used those words as pain relief once before, when I fainted after my first blood donation. Now, he brought them out again, as bait, and as an anesthetic. I lowered my gaze, my eyes falling on my still-flat lower abdomen. A life was quietly forming there. A life that had arrived unexpectedly on a night when I was utterly heartbroken and foolishly drunk, right before my heart completely died. This afternoon, I had just received my prenatal checkup report. Six weeks pregnant. My high school friend, Dr. Lin, had privately warned me in a grave tone: “Lucy, you have RH-negative blood, which means you need extra care during pregnancy. If you undergo a major invasive procedure like bone marrow donation at this time, especially if a large amount is collected, the fetus will almost certainly not survive. Plus, it will be extremely damaging to your own body. You’ve already had frequent blood donations, and your anemic state hasn’t fully recovered. You must consider this carefully. No, my advice is, absolutely do not do it!” Consider it carefully? Did I have a choice? The consent form, he had already signed it for me. The words “signed for me” burned like a hot iron on my soul. I looked at Alaric’s face, so close, filled with certainty and a trace of barely concealed urgency. He probably thought I would, as countless times before, lie on the operating table obediently, even with a joyful sense of sacrifice. After all, I loved him so “deeply,” deeply enough to disregard everything else. So deeply that he never imagined I, this “walking blood bank,” would ever resist, would have secrets, would… hate. The ice field in my heart cracked open with a deep fissure, and a dark, hateful flame silently began to rise. I raised my hand, my fingertips gently brushing the diamond at my neck. Cold, hard, and ostentatious. Just like the “future” he promised. Then, my hand dropped, resting on my lower abdomen, very gently, pressing it. It was still calm there, I felt nothing. But I knew a tiny life was growing. Alaric’s child. And my child. A child he would never anticipate, and perhaps, if he knew, would personally crush. Because the existence of this child would hinder his beloved from receiving my bone marrow. Perfect. Alaric. I spoke to him in my heart, word by word, silently. Your child, like the woman who loved you, was never meant to exist. But whether it exists, and how it ends, will be decided by me. Not you. I lifted my face, meeting his expectant gaze, and slowly curved my lips into a smile, as soft and even timid as always. I nodded gently. “Okay.” My voice was obedient, without a ripple of emotion. “For Maeve, and for you, I’ll donate.” Alaric visibly relaxed, the last trace of uncertainty vanishing from his eyes, replaced by a glow of successful planning, mixed with satisfaction and a hint of complex emotions. He tried to embrace me again; this time, I didn’t resist. I let his embrace, smelling of perfume and disinfectant, envelop me. My chin rested on his shoulder. My eyes open, I watched the potted plant in the corner of the living room, its leaves trembling slightly in the air conditioning’s gentle breeze. In my eyes, an icy, dead desert. My phone vibrated silently in my pocket, the screen lighting up, then dimming. The message that read “Six weeks pregnant, preliminary normal embryonic development, recommended regular monitoring,” along with the attached digital report, had been completely deleted. Along with my last, ridiculous hope for him. 5 In the days that followed, Alaric’s treatment of me was abnormally “good.” Supplements flowed into the house, and he even canceled an important meeting to personally accompany me to the hospital for pre-op checks. Of course, these were the mandatory medical exams for a donor. Blood tests, labs, EKGs, chest X-rays… he was with me for every step, full of patience, holding my hand, emphasizing to every doctor and nurse: “This is my wife. Please be meticulous, use the best techniques, and ensure her safety.” The medical staff cast envious glances. “Mr. Thorne is so good to you, so considerate.” “Mrs. Thorne, you’re very lucky.” I kept my head down, smiling shyly, leaning closer to him, appearing dependent and devoted. Only I knew that every gentle word he spoke, every thoughtful gesture he made, was like a blunt knife, grinding back and forth on my already numb heart. It didn’t hurt, but that cold, sticky feeling of disgust shadowed my every move. He did all this simply to ensure the “donor” was in good condition, capable of smoothly producing the “bone marrow,” the “commodity” that would save his beloved. During a break in the exams, I slipped away to the OB-GYN department, feigning a consultation for anemia. My friend, Dr. Lin, seized the moment while Alaric was on the phone. She pulled me into her office, locked the door, her face grimmer than I had ever seen it. “Lucy, are you insane? Are you really going through with the donation? Do you have any idea what this means?!” she hissed, almost shouting, her voice low. “This isn’t just a few hundred CCs of blood! Bone marrow harvesting! It’s a massive burden on your body right now! The baby almost certainly won’t survive! You could hemorrhage, get an infection, face all sorts of unpredictable risks! Do you ever want to be a mother?!” I looked at Dr. Lin’s flushed face, red with urgency. A tiny crack appeared in the cold, hard shell around my heart, and a faint warmth seeped out. In this world, there was still someone who genuinely cared about Lucy Thorne, the person, not just her blood or her bone marrow. I squeezed her hand, her palm slightly damp with agitation. “Lin, I know.” My voice was surprisingly calm, even to myself. “I know it all.” “You know, and you still—” Dr. Lin’s eyes widened. “I have my own plans.” I cut her off, my voice soft, yet with an undeniable, resolute finality. “I’m not keeping this child. But how it ‘won’t be kept’ is my decision. That consent form Alaric signed, could you check it for me? Are there any… loopholes?” Dr. Lin was stunned, looking at me as if I were a stranger. The Lucy she knew, always docile, a little melancholic, constantly revolving around Alaric, seemed to be peeling away before her eyes, revealing a cold, hard, unfamiliar core beneath. “What… what do you want to do?” Her voice trembled slightly. “Help me.” I gripped her hand tightly, my fingertips cold. “Lin, right now, only you can help me. It’s not about harming anyone, just… self-preservation. And taking back something.” I looked at her, my eyes devoid of pleading, only a deep, bottomless chill, and beneath it, a quietly burning flame. Dr. Lin looked at me for a long time. Finally, slowly, she squeezed my hand back, very tightly. “What do you need me to do?” Her voice was even lower, laced with a sense of desperate determination.

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Willow Hawthorne, a faded actress, joined a divorce reality show with her business magnate husband. “I want a divorce.” Facing the camera, I spoke calmly. Off-camera, Alaric Hawthorne frowned, reviewing my performance. “You need to show more intense emotion when you say it. That’s what sparks discussion, creates buzz, drives traffic.” “Otherwise, who will believe you actually want to divorce me? They’ll just think you’re acting again.” “Use your head more. I can’t be guiding you every step of the way.” He was right, of course. To outsiders, I was merely a pretty face, vain and shallow, a talentless ornament. He, on the other hand, was a cultured businessman, possessing billions and renowned for his sharp intellect. No one believed I would willingly give up the title of Mrs. Hawthorne, including Alaric himself. But he didn’t know. This time, I was truly getting a divorce. 1 When my agent told me about the divorce reality show, I paused. “Mr. Hawthorne agreed?” “Of course.” She seemed to find my question amusing. “Your last few live shopping streams didn’t do so well. Celebrity divorces are a hot topic right now, so Mr. Hawthorne specially carved out ten days to do this show with you. Perform well this time, try to ride this wave of publicity. It’ll be worth Mr. Hawthorne’s investment in you.” I remained silent. Investment. That word was interesting. It implied a superior-subordinate relationship, like a teacher and student, or business partners. But not like a husband and wife. “Sign it,” she said, tossing the contract onto the table in front of me. I didn’t move, just stared at the thin pages. She glanced at me, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Don’t worry, it’s not a real divorce.” “I need to read the show’s content first. I’ll let you know once it’s signed.” I slowly picked up the contract, clutching it. She frowned, reminding me with a touch of irritation, “Mr. Hawthorne has already reviewed it.” As she stood to leave, her dismissive voice drifted back to me. “Why make things so complicated? You’ll sign it in the end anyway.” 2 That evening, Alaric called. When his steady, magnetic voice came through, I felt a strange unfamiliarity. With his company launching new projects, we hadn’t seen each other in two months. His phone was usually handled by his executive assistant, Andrea, so to reach him, I’d first have to explain my business to her, and then she’d decide if he needed to take the call. So, I generally didn’t try. “Willow.” There was soft, elegant music playing in the background of his call. “I hear you were throwing a tantrum today?” I paused. “You ‘hear’? From whom?” He sounded displeased. “I’ve been busy lately, no time or energy to teach you, but you need to mature. Work is work; you need professionalism, not to act like a child all the time.” I softly uttered, “Oh.” “You mean about the reality show? Word got to you that fast? It seems my agent reported it to Andrea. And as for throwing a tantrum, was it because I said I wanted to read the contract before signing?” The line was silent for two seconds, then his slightly weary voice came through. “You didn’t even finish college. What contract could you possibly understand?” “Everything has been prepared for you. You just need to sign it. Everyone is already very tired. Why can’t you be considerate instead of creating obstacles for the staff?” “Willow, when will you finally mature…” It was that tone again. All these years, whenever I didn’t follow his demands, whenever I voiced even a small opinion, I was met with this attitude from him. A faint accusation, mixed with a hint of helplessness and disappointment. A familiar sense of suffocation rose from deep within me, lodging in my chest, catching in my throat. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. “Mr. Hawthorne!” A soft, pleasant female voice chimed in nearby. “I think I can guess what Mrs. Hawthorne might be concerned about.” It was Andrea. Alaric said nothing. His silence meant he wasn’t objecting. Andrea let out two pleasant laughs, then spoke fluently. “This is a divorce reality show, after all. Mrs. Hawthorne has to announce a divorce in front of a national audience. Since she loves you so much, she’d naturally worry that if things went wrong, it would be hard to recover. So, Mr. Hawthorne, this is actually your fault. You didn’t consider Mrs. Hawthorne’s feelings, you were too blunt. Her sulking is understandable.” I was a bit stunned. Setting aside her presumption that I was just “sulking,” she was actually saying Alaric was wrong. Saying that the always aloof, strategically brilliant Alaric was wrong. I couldn’t help but be curious about his reaction. On the phone, Alaric was quiet for a moment, then softly hummed, “Mm.” “Andrea makes a good point, Willow. I didn’t think things through enough.” In that instant, I smiled soundlessly. It was deep autumn. The few remaining leaves on the sycamore trees outside the window, swept by an unseen autumn breeze, silently fell. “However, besides being husband and wife, we are also business partners with cross-shareholdings in several companies. Divorce would have a hundred disadvantages and no benefits. Such a concern, if you just used your head, you’d know is superfluous. Willow, you’ve been with me for five years. I thought you had learned to analyze and scrutinize things. In this area, you need to settle down and truly learn from Andrea.” Andrea and I were the same age, both twenty-seven this year. We met Alaric in the same year. The difference was, she came from a scholarly family, graduated from Stanford University, was quick-witted, articulate, and a talented, beautiful woman with a graceful demeanor. I, on the other hand, came from a humble background, discovered through a reality TV talent show. I started acting before finishing college. These past few years, I’d gained some fame through my looks, and outsiders often commented, “Beautiful, yes, but soulless.” I actually thought Alaric would choose her back then… At this point, Alaric finished speaking and paused. He was waiting for me to admit my mistake and reflect, as I always did. He would pinpoint my shallow understanding and immature mindset, and I would earnestly reflect, making changes where necessary. But this time, I said nothing. On the phone, only the tireless music continued to flow. After a moment, I asked, “You’ve had it on speakerphone this whole time?” One of the few arguments Alaric and I had in our four years of marriage was when I called him once, wanting to flirt, and heard Andrea’s sudden laughter in the background. Later, finding out he’d had it on speaker, I was so mortified and angry that I cried for hours, making him promise it would never happen again. Back then, our relationship was still strong. He had promised. “Willow.” Alaric clearly remembered the incident. “Andrea just had a bit to drink at a dinner, and I was driving, using navigation, so—” “It’s fine. Just a casual question.” I chuckled indifferently, my gaze falling on the name at the bottom of the contract. Bold and expressive. Somewhat unfamiliar, yet also familiar. “The contract is signed. I’ll give it to my agent tomorrow.” Alaric was satisfied. Satisfied that I hadn’t lingered on the issue of Andrea. Satisfied that I had once again obediently accepted his arrangements. “Didn’t you always want to go to the Altai Mountains? After this busy period, I’ll make time to go with you.” “We’ll see.” I hung up the phone. 3 Alaric and I met again after two months at the filming location. My agent drove me, Andrea drove him. Two cars arrived from different directions, their doors opening simultaneously. He was on a conference call, wearing a sharp suit, standing sideways, outlining his perfect facial features. Andrea, dressed in a navy belted trench coat, her long hair flying in the wind, waited quietly beside him. I tilted my head, observing. I had to admit, they looked very striking together, very well-matched. My agent left me, rushing over with a big smile. “Mr. Hawthorne!” “Ms. Hayes!” Andrea merely gave a faint nod, indicating not to interrupt, her gaze not even straying towards me. Over there, three people stood together. Over here, I quietly took down my luggage. The two cars weren’t far apart, yet it felt like they were separated by a galaxy. I wheeled my luggage into the house. The other two pairs of guests were already seated on the sofa. One pair of singers. One pair of ordinary people. I smiled and greeted them. Through the large floor-to-ceiling window, I clearly saw Andrea bending over, diligently buttoning Alaric’s suit jacket. Her face was near his lower body, her long hair tangled at her waist by the wind, the posture intimately suggestive. The ordinary woman, straightforward and blunt, pursed her lips and asked, with a surprising lack of filter: “Are you divorcing because of her?” I smiled. “No.” The four people in the room clearly didn’t believe me, subtly pursing their lips. Alaric walked in, surrounded by staff. He saw me, came to sit beside me, slightly displeased. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” I picked up an orange from the table and began peeling it. “I came in to understand the process first, so the production team wouldn’t have to wait.” He turned his head to look at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. After all, when I was around him, I would always find ways to assert my claim. “For the first two choices, you must firmly choose divorce. The turning point will come in the final choice, when you give up.” He instructed me in a low voice. I nodded, putting a segment of orange into my mouth. It was incredibly sweet. 4 My agent’s script was this: I want a divorce; he doesn’t. To understand my thoughts and salvage the marriage, he’s on this show. After arguments, reconciliation, and honest communication, I finally reveal that his focus on career has led to too little companionship over the years. He sincerely apologizes and promises to prioritize family. Finally, I tearfully admit I still love him, giving up the idea of divorce. In the end, we reconcile, and everyone lives happily ever after. It was, frankly, quite fake. Seeing me frown, my agent countered with a mocking tone, “Unless you want to make it real?” I had once suggested to Alaric that I wanted to change agents. Andrea opposed it, citing the agent’s extensive resources and professionalism. Alaric supported her opposition, telling me to prioritize work and not be childish. She naturally disliked me. And of course, I didn’t like her either. … The first day had no filming content, only pre-show interviews. In the interview room, couples made their first choice. “I want a divorce.” I calmly spoke these words to the camera. Alaric, beside me, frowned. “You need to show more intense emotion when you say it. That’s what sparks discussion, creates buzz, drives traffic.” “Otherwise, who will believe you actually want to divorce me? They’ll just think you’re acting again.” “Use your head more. I can’t be guiding you every step of the way.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, but was overwhelmed by a deep sense of powerlessness. I didn’t want to utter a single word. These past two years, I had often been engulfed by this emotion, as if a snare firmly held me. I knew intimately that I had to break free, but I always lacked the strength. When inner energy is depleted, one needs external force. The director was a very young man, still possessing a purity untouched by the mundane world. He reviewed the footage. “The feeling comes across well, actually. After all, she’s an experienced actress, the emotion is conveyed.” When Alaric went for his solo interview, I didn’t want to listen and waited outside. My phone rang. It was Andrea, surprisingly. I was about to hang up, but then I thought about it and answered. “His interview is almost over. You can call him directly later.” “Mrs. Hawthorne, I’m not looking for him, I’m looking for you.” “Me?” “It’s like this, Mr. Hawthorne has never been away from me for several days straight. There are two things I need to remind you about.” Andrea’s tone was gentle and polite. I watched Alaric push open the door and walk out, then put my phone on speaker. “Assistant Hayes, please go ahead.” Andrea’s elegant voice echoed in the hallway. “First, Mr. Hawthorne has been suffering from pharyngitis recently. His medication is in the inner pocket of his black bag. You absolutely must not let him have anything cold or spicy, or it will irritate his throat. Second, he sometimes gets migraines at night. Remember to massage his temples for ten minutes; that’s the only way it’s effective. If you’re unsure of the technique, you can call me anytime.” “Mrs. Hawthorne, did you remember all that I said?” Before I could answer, Alaric snatched the phone from my hand, speaking coldly, “Andrea, who told you to call Willow?” The silence on the other end was abrupt. I suddenly found it somewhat amusing, and thinking that, I actually laughed. Alaric looked at me, his scrutinizing gaze tinged with confusion. Usually, in such situations, I would have caused quite a fuss, angrily accusing Andrea and tearfully complaining to him. Andrea, on the other hand, would always remain composed, elegantly explaining in a soft voice, making me look like a lunatic. “She meant well. Your tone probably scared her.” I took the phone back from him, hung up directly, and walked straight towards the interview room. There was a joint couple’s interview next. As I pushed the door, Alaric, still standing by the window in the hallway, suddenly spoke to me. “You don’t mind?” I looked at him. “Mind what?” A flicker of irritation crossed his composed brow. “Nothing. Let’s go in.”

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I was set to marry into one of the most powerful families in the city, but my half-sister, the illegitimate child who’d always been a thorn in my side, was consumed by jealousy. The day before my lavish wedding, she drugged me. As she snuck into my wedding car, she sent her people to plunder my billion-dollar dowry, then grandly took my place, marrying into the prestigious Blackwood family. When I finally came to, I was furious. I found my half-sister, tied her up, and dragged her back. I eventually married into the Blackwood family as planned, only to be thrown into a beggar’s den by my husband a year later. His eyes were venomous, his voice cold as ice. “If your family’s funding wasn’t essential, you’d die a thousand deaths for humiliating Seraphina. Now that the Sterling Corporation has fallen, you’re worse than a dog.” My half-sister, Seraphina, stood nearby, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Sister, you humiliated me then; now you can pay your penance with the beggars. I’ve settled comfortably into the role of Mrs. Blackwood.” Overwhelmed by the humiliation, I bit my tongue and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day. … I slowly pushed myself up from the bed. It took me an hour to manage the pounding in my head before I opened the door. My mother, leaning on a maid, was just returning. The unshed tears in her eyes, remnants of regret, had barely dried when she looked up and saw me standing at the top of the stairs. She froze, utterly stunned. My father, frowning, was the first to react. “Willow, what are you doing here?” He pointed outside, his voice filled with alarm. “Then who was it that just got into the Blackwood family’s wedding car?” I clutched my chest, my face a picture of shock. “What? Someone already took my place in the wedding car? Last night, Seraphina said she’d miss me once she was married, so she lit some calming incense for me. I inhaled a couple of breaths and slept until just now.” The lively scene instantly fell silent. Everyone exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of confusion and suspicion. My mother staggered a few steps, nearly fainting, and immediately ordered the servants to seize Nanny Rose, who was trying to slip away in the crowd. “Aha, I knew it! During the send-off earlier, she clung to the bride’s hand, crying more sorrowfully than I, her own mother. I thought she was some good-for-nothing, but it turns out she’s truly the mother of that little beast!” My mother’s voice dripped with icy contempt. Nanny Rose knelt on the ground, her gaze darting nervously. She stammered, “Madam, I don’t understand what you’re saying. It’s Miss Willow who overslept and missed the auspicious hour. How can you blame my Seraphina?” Just as she finished speaking, the butler rushed over, out of breath. “Sir, Madam, the Reynolds family’s reception party has arrived. They’re waiting at the gate.” My mother’s face hardened. “Where is Seraphina? Go and bring her here immediately.” I lowered my head, hiding the cold smirk playing on my lips. Where else could she be? On Archer Blackwood’s bed, of course. During the wedding negotiations, Archer had insisted on a traditional Western wedding, claiming it honored ancestral customs. He’d even hired a renowned historian to oversee the entire event. The bride was to remain veiled throughout. By now, she had likely completed the ceremony and entered the bridal suite. A quick glance caught the triumphant gleam Nanny Rose couldn’t quite hide at the corner of her mouth, solidifying my conviction. This mother-daughter duo truly had it all planned out. Nanny Rose had been our housekeeper years ago, seducing my father and giving birth to Seraphina, securing a life of luxury. Now, Seraphina had drugged me, taken my place, and married into wealth, effectively sealing the deal. That left me with only one path: to take the wedding she’d rejected, marrying into the Reynolds family. The Reynolds family was a rising star in business over the past two years. While they lacked the deep roots of old money, their momentum was undeniable, with their presence felt across various emerging industries. Unfortunately, their patriarch was disabled. My father, with his sharp business acumen, had arranged Seraphina’s marriage to the Reynolds heir. If the Reynolds family flourished, Seraphina could enjoy the life of a wealthy socialite. If not, with the Sterling Corporation’s strong backing, she wouldn’t suffer. Yet, she failed to grasp my father’s good intentions. She’d pulled a switcheroo, forcing the marriage she found most despicable onto me. If I agreed, news of a Sterling heiress marrying a disabled man would spread like wildfire through high society that very night. The entire Sterling family would become the subject of ridicule. In my previous life, she’d used this very tactic to forever keep me beneath her heel. But back then, with my parents’ full support, I had made a scene at the wedding. The Blackwood family, still needing the Sterling Corporation’s assistance, had forcibly dragged Seraphina out of the bridal suite. I got my wish and became Mrs. Blackwood, and Archer treated me like a treasure. I hadn’t known then that this man, who seemed to pour his heart out to me, had already secretly conceived a child with Seraphina, working together to bring down the Sterling Corporation when the time was right. A maid’s startled gasp broke my reverie. “Madam, Miss Seraphina isn’t in her room! Her wedding dress and veil are still there, but all her dowry is gone!” “And… I found some things in Miss Seraphina’s room…” My father picked them up and his face turned to thunder. They were intimate photos of Seraphina and Archer Blackwood. He furiously flung the pictures at Nanny Rose’s face. “This is the wonderful daughter you’ve raised! She’s going to bring shame upon the entire Sterling Corporation!” 2 The butler, his brow furrowed with worry, spoke up. “Sir, the Reynolds family is pressing at the gate. What should we do?” My father’s face was grim. He slammed his fist on the table. “Contact the Blackwood family immediately. Quietly bind that wretched girl and send her to the Reynolds family. My Sterling Corporation’s marriage is not hers, a mere illegitimate child, to decide!” I tugged on my father’s sleeve, pinched my thigh hard, and tears streamed down my face. “Dad, let it go. Seraphina and Mr. Blackwood are clearly in love. They’ve already… well, and made a spectacle of the Sterling family at the wedding. I won’t marry such a man. Let Seraphina have him.” I wiped my eyes. “The Reynolds family is a valuable partner for us. In business, integrity is paramount, and I don’t want you to break your word, Dad. Your daughter is willing to marry into the Reynolds family.” My father looked at me, surprised and deeply moved. “Willow, you are the Sterling heiress. In this entire circle, only the Blackwood family is barely worthy of you. Marrying into the Reynolds family would be a true sacrifice for you, especially since Mr. Reynolds is…” He swallowed the rest of his words, his gaze filled with heartache. I smiled, picking up where he left off. “Dad, the Reynolds family ranked only ten spots behind the Blackwood family on Forbes last year. Think of how long the Blackwood family has been established compared to the Reynolds family’s rapid rise. While Mr. Reynolds is disabled, his reproductive health is fine, and he’s a business genius. With me by his side and the Sterling Corporation’s support, the Reynolds family’s future is boundless.” A conniving half-sister, greedy for wealth and snatching a wedding, versus a dignified heiress, composed in crisis, willing to marry for the sake of family honor. The contrast was stark, the difference undeniable. Many in the room looked at me with approval, their hearts aching for my predicament, and their contempt for Seraphina’s actions grew. My mother’s heart shattered into a million pieces, and she held me tightly in her embrace. My father gritted his teeth, seething. “Even so, my daughter, Willow Sterling, is not someone the Blackwood family can disrespect. Willow, rest assured, the Blackwood family has wronged you. You are right not to marry Archer. I will make sure they pay for this, no matter what.” We arrived at the Blackwood estate to find the newlyweds had already entered the bridal suite, but the banquet was still in full swing. Everyone stared in disbelief as we burst in, our presence a storm brewing. “Isn’t that Miss Willow Sterling, the Sterling heiress? She’s supposed to be the bride today, why is she here?” “No, that’s not right. The bride was escorted to the bridal suite half an hour ago. If it’s not her, then who is the bride?” My mother scoffed. “I apologize for the spectacle, everyone. The woman who just entered was also a Sterling daughter, but a common, illegitimate child who stole her sister’s wedding.” A hush fell over the room, then a collective gasp of shock. Archer Blackwood rushed in from outside, his face ashen, and interrupted. “Willow, don’t cause a scene. How can you blame Seraphina for this? Your figures are similar, and the veils were identical. You only have yourself to blame for oversleeping and missing the auspicious hour; that’s why I brought the wrong person.” “I was drunk earlier and mistook Seraphina for you in the bridal suite. As a man, I must take responsibility for Seraphina.” “Bringing people here now is just to switch places, isn’t it? I know you love me deeply, and you’d die without me. So, here’s what we’ll do: Seraphina and I will register our marriage, but I’ll only choose an heir from the children you bear for me. You might not have a title, but the entire Blackwood estate will belong to our children. This way, it won’t disrupt our families’ cooperation.” 3 The absurdity of it all made me want to laugh. Marrying Seraphina and then expecting me to be his mistress, with my son as an illegitimate child? The struggling Blackwood family, on the brink of collapse, would have vanished if not for the long-standing engagement and the Sterling Corporation’s support. And he, the shameless wretch, wanted the blessing of two women and the Sterling Corporation’s resources? My father, equally outraged, burst into a hollow laugh. “The Blackwood family certainly has some nerve! A few good years and you’ve forgotten the despair of being on the verge of bankruptcy? If that’s the case, I don’t mind helping you recall it.” The Blackwood matriarch, finally snapping out of her daze, rushed forward. “Mr. Sterling, what on earth is going on?” My mother pulled a stack of scandalous photos from her bag and tossed them onto the table. “Mrs. Blackwood, what do you think? If your esteemed son prefers an illegitimate child, why go through such lengths to humiliate my daughter? Our Sterling Corporation will not accept such a shameless daughter. My husband will return home and immediately terminate all cooperation between our families. The Sterling and Blackwood families are officially done.” Without the Sterling Corporation’s investment, the Blackwood family would be a mere shell, burdened with debt. The Blackwood matriarch clutched her chest, her face turning ashen, and repeatedly questioned Archer. “Tell me, what have you done?” Before Archer could speak, Seraphina burst out of the bridal suite, clad in a crimson silk robe. She fell to her knees before me, weeping piteously. “Sister, it’s all my fault. I was overcome with emotion and acted foolishly. But Archer and I are already married. If you keep causing a scene, you’ll only shame the Sterling family! Even if you don’t care about me, don’t you care about the Sterling family’s reputation?” To brand her own vulgar shamelessness as “overcome with emotion,” and my quest for justice as “disregarding family honor”—she truly had no shame. I scoffed. “So, you’re saying you drugged me, stole my wedding, entered my bridal suite, and my simply asking questions is what brings shame upon the Sterling family?” I deliberately raised my voice, airing all her dirty laundry. “If you truly loved Mr. Blackwood, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I wasn’t dead set on Archer. Why wait until our wedding day to commit such a despicable act? Who is truly trampling the Sterling family’s reputation underfoot? Or do you have no regard for the Sterling family at all, and just want to steal everything that belongs to me?” Seraphina’s face went pale, her eyes darting nervously. “I… I didn’t. It’s because I truly love Mr. Blackwood.” Everyone present was a seasoned socialite; her sordid intentions were crystal clear. “Using such vile tactics and then claiming ‘true love’ as an excuse? An illegitimate child, she doesn’t even know her place.” “If that were my daughter, I’d drag her home and beat her to death. To stoop to stealing her sister’s fiancé… who knows what other harm she’ll bring to the entire family later on.” Some even turned their accusations directly at Archer Blackwood. “Mr. Blackwood’s behavior is equally repulsive. Since he’s already entered the bridal suite with a shameless illegitimate child, he’s now shamelessly trying to force the legitimate heiress into being his mistress. Isn’t it just because he can’t bear to lose the heiress’s family resources? He wants to have his cake and eat it too, treating the heiress and the Sterling family like fools. I can barely bring myself to repeat the things he said.” The Blackwood matriarch, utterly disgraced, trembled with rage. She slapped Archer across the face. “You defiant son! Get down on your knees immediately and apologize to your future in-laws, and promise to marry Willow right away!” She took a few steps towards me, reaching for my hand, but I subtly evaded her. Her face stiffened for a moment, then instantly softened with flattery. “Willow, you’ve been wronged. Archer will agree to whatever you want, I promise you. This kind of thing will never happen again.” Archer clutched his face, his eyes burning with resentment, as if I had ruined his plans. He seemed utterly oblivious that I was the biggest victim of this whole sordid affair. “Mother, I only love Seraphina; I won’t marry anyone else. Willow Sterling is arrogant and overbearing, just a spoiled brat relying on the Sterling family’s influence. If I marry her, the entire Blackwood family will suffer. The position of Mrs. Blackwood can only be Seraphina’s.” “If she’s smart, out of respect for Mr. Sterling, I’ll give her a child. But I’ll bring the child to live with me and have Seraphina raise it. If she’s not smart, she can wait to be scorned and despised by everyone in the city. Who would ever marry a woman rejected by the Blackwood family?”

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1 Three years after my remarriage to Jaxson Mason, on Valentine’s Day, a reporter broke the news to me, his agent: a livestream of him “playing” with a popular young actress in a set restroom. After enduring the media onslaught, fighting back tears, I stormed over to the set, dragged him away from a table laden with food, and confronted him. “Jaxson Mason, if you couldn’t control yourself, why did you come crying and begging me to remarry you?!” “I was only twenty when I got with you! I even missed my mother’s last moments so I could support your acting career and help you win awards! And now, on Valentine’s Day, you’re openly causing a scandal with someone else? Do I mean nothing to you?!” A hickey was starkly visible on his collar. He exhaled a puff of smoke at me, a careless smirk on his lips. “Did I beg you to be with me at twenty? Did I tie your legs down so you couldn’t see your mother?” “Aria Taylor, you did it willingly.” I froze, my blood turning to ice. Only the person who loved you most knew exactly where to twist the knife. After a long silence, I choked back a sob and nodded. “You’re right.” But what he didn’t know was that if I could spend ten years making him a star, I could just as easily make someone else one. … The heating in the house was cranked high, yet my body was trembling. The dinner I’d spent three hours preparing on the table was already stone cold. Jaxson’s favorite dishes were placed closer to his seat, even though he hadn’t eaten a meal in this house in ages. Even though my workload was piled up for the next month, I’d still taken a few hours off because he’d mentioned wanting my cooking for Valentine’s Day. Now, he had driven the sharpest dagger straight into my heart. Tears streamed down my face, one after another, uncontrollably. I covered my face, sobbing. Jaxson impatiently pursed his lips, then reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Stop crying, it’s annoying.” “You’re not a twenty-year-old girl anymore. Tears don’t work on me.” I pushed his hand away, looking down to grab a tissue and harshly wipe my face. When was the last time I cried? It was at our wedding, when Jaxson couldn’t stop crying, saying he couldn’t live without me and would love everything about me. The man in front of me was still him, but how could his words have changed so much? After a long pause, a soft knock came at the door, and a head peeked in. “Boss, the big boss is on the phone…” It was Jaxson’s assistant. It seemed this mess was indeed quite big. I sniffled, took the phone, and said, my voice heavy, “Boss, I’ll consult with the other team before issuing a statement. They likely just had too much to drink…” Jaxson suddenly snatched the phone from me and yelled into it, “Remember to put all the blame on me in the announcement; Chloe Rivers has nothing to do with this.” His voice held a tender concern. “I couldn’t control myself… she’s still young, she can’t handle the media.” I shot my head up, my eyes wide with disbelief, my heart trembling violently. “Jaxson Mason, are you out of your mind?! That lurking reporter was called by Chloe Rivers herself! Don’t you know what she’s up to?!” He gave me a dismissive glance, nonchalant. “I know.” “I’m fine with it.” Those three words struck my heart with brutal force, making me sway precariously. He had said the same thing three months after our divorce when he came begging for reconciliation. Back then, he’d found my house, knelt at my doorstep for half the night, and almost set a hillside ablaze trying to light fireworks for a grand confession. When the media asked if he was okay, his eyes had sparkled, and he’d said the same thing. “As long as Aria’s happy, I’m fine with it.” I had softened then. But now, all my love and self-respect were being trampled underfoot. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Jaxson had already hung up the phone and was sitting at the table, looking at the spread of dishes. He picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a piece of his usual favorite spicy chicken, put it in his mouth, then quickly spat it out. “Disgusting. Next time, let’s just order takeout.” I picked up the dishes and dumped them all into the trash, shedding my last tear. “Alright.” Jaxson looked back at me, his gaze lingering, as if he wanted to say something but held back. An ill-timed ringtone broke the silence. He glanced at the caller ID, a smile touching his lips. “Chloe, yes, I’ll be right there.” I called out to him, my voice cold. “Jaxson Mason, if you walk out that door today, we’re getting a divorce.” He paused, his eyes briefly widening in surprise. “Aria Taylor, are you threatening me?” Then he let out a soft laugh. “You need to calm down first. Look at you, what a mess.” With that, he strode out without a backward glance. I looked at myself in the mirror: swollen, red eyes beneath disheveled hair, even the buttons on my shirt were mismatched. I looked like a lunatic. A bitter smile touched my lips. I changed my jacket, combed my hair, and headed to the office with my assistant to deal with work. There was no choice; life had to go on. As the car pulled into the parking lot, I spotted Jaxson, masked, chatting with someone. I intended to pretend I hadn’t seen him, but his words brought me to a dead halt. “What devotion? Back then, I just put on an act, going all out to reconcile with Aria, all for that resource she had that helped me win Best Actor.” My head exploded, and suddenly I couldn’t hear anything else. My memory flashed back to when I was twenty. After my graduation ceremony, I met Jaxson at the school gate. He took my hand and said he wanted to be an actor. “Aria, I know this path might be incredibly tough. But I want to try. Will you stay with me?” I looked into his fiery gaze and finally nodded. That path truly was incredibly tough. We had no connections, no resources. In the beginning, I acted as both his agent and assistant, running to sets in heavy snow, shamelessly asking directors if they needed anyone. It was too cold. We’d huddle together in our tiny rented apartment. He’d wrap the only down jacket around me, grinning foolishly. “Aria, I’m so glad you’re here.” Later, fate smiled upon him. He was finally discovered and became a huge star. The day he won Best Newcomer, Jaxson proposed to me, holding the trophy. That day, the top trending searches were filled with photos of him crying and embracing me. I thought our love had found its happy ending. So why did we divorce later? I couldn’t quite remember, only that Jaxson came home less and less, breaking away from the team to do his own thing, and the cold glare he’d sometimes cast my way. “I want to do what I love, not be a puppet under your arrangements. Aria, you just don’t understand me.” By then, I had become a prominent agent in the industry, yet I still only managed him. What I thought was good, he apparently didn’t appreciate. During our most intense argument, we went straight to the courthouse and divorced. Looking back now, in those three months after our divorce, Jaxson was indeed rarely active on screen. His subsequent rise to stable fame only came after he secured that resource I held. This remarriage was never pure to begin with. My heart was so cold it felt numb, beyond pain. Under my assistant’s bewildered gaze, I took several deep breaths and returned to the office. There was noise coming from the conference room; Jaxson and Chloe Rivers were livestreaming. “I hope everyone refrains from spreading those videos; it’s not good for Chloe. And I hope everyone can support our upcoming movie.” As Jaxson spoke, he saw me walk in, and his eyes flickered. “Ms. Taylor…” Chloe Rivers frantically jumped out of his embrace, so flustered she couldn’t even look at me. “What are you afraid of? They’ve handled the sneak shots; we’re just promoting the movie.” He forcefully pulled her back, giving me a nonchalant smile. “Ms. Aria Taylor, isn’t that right?” I watched with a blank face as he waved to the livestream, made playful remarks, flirted, and officially confirmed their relationship. After it ended, I let out a heavy sigh, suddenly wanting to clear things up. “Why her, of all people?” Jaxson was still staring at the woman’s lingering back. Hearing my question, his tongue pressed against his cheek. “Why ask so many questions?” He met my trembling gaze, a knowing, half-mocking smile on his lips. “It could be Chloe Rivers, or Claire Rivers, or Melanie Rivers. All of them are women I would actively choose.” “I told you, I only want to do what I love, not be forced by you, Ms. Aria Taylor, to film those commercials or go on those variety shows. What does any of that have to do with my acting career?!” Watching his increasingly agitated eyes, I suddenly laughed, a bitterly sarcastic sound. “Weren’t you ecstatic when you won Best Actor back then? What, did you forget that I also gave you that?” His eyes instantly turned cold, and he slammed his hand on the table. “Aria Taylor! Don’t you dare think you’re so incredible! It’s Jaxson Mason who got to where he is today, one step at a time!” “It’s my own hard work that has forged my current status. You, Aria Taylor, merely basked in my reflected glory. Anyone else could have done the same!” My nails dug deep into my palms. Suddenly, I understood. He resented me. He resented that his brilliant career was even partially attributed to me, resented the arrangements he had to accept even as he wished to break free. In an instant, all the bitterness and pain settled into a quiet calm. I looked at him for a long time, then nodded faintly. “If that’s how you feel, then that’s fine.” Then, I walked into the CEO’s office and handed over a document. “Mr. Thompson, I will no longer be managing Jaxson Mason. Additionally, this male artist’s profile looks promising. Please take a look.” I hadn’t expected Chloe Rivers to find me so quickly. Or to be so direct. “I’m pregnant. It’s Jaxson’s.” This wasn’t the first time I’d dealt with Jaxson’s rumored girlfriends. The previous girls were all quite green, constrained, and I’d sent them packing with a mix of veiled threats and encouragement. But Chloe Rivers was different. Her eyes gleamed with ambition. And why wouldn’t they? To enter the entertainment industry and land a lead role opposite Jaxson in just three months, she couldn’t possibly be that naive. I wasn’t in the mood to play games. “What do you want?” Her eyes flashed with a determined glint. “I want to be with him, to go public with our relationship. And I want your resources.” She was audacious enough to target me, the wronged party. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. The woman mistook it for mockery, and her expression soured. “Ms. Aria Taylor, I have plenty of chat records with him. I wouldn’t mind telling the media. See you next Monday.” She then paused, seemingly remembering something, and let out a peculiar laugh. “Were you forced to have an abortion back then, so now you want me to have one too?” My blood froze at that moment, and my mind instantly went blank. She covered her mouth, stifling a giggle, her face full of mocking triumph at having hit a nerve. “You act so proud in front of me, but weren’t you on your knees, big with child, begging Jaxson back then? Aria Taylor, are you his dog?” “If it were me, I’d want to find a rope and hang myself.” My pupils suddenly dilated, and my breathing became rapid. Jaxson and I’s first child had come at the most inopportune time. He had just landed a supporting role and needed to join the set. I sent him off to the set, then went through the pregnancy alone, thinking it would be a surprise. Until I was five months along, that show, along with Jaxson, suddenly exploded in popularity. He was on trending topics for weeks, all the spotlights chasing him. When he returned home and saw me, pregnant, his smile froze on his face. “What… what is this…?” My heart plummeted, and I suddenly realized something was wrong. After smoking half a pack of cigarettes, he took my hand and said the baby couldn’t stay. “Aria, I finally got to this point. Opportunity waits for no one! If people found out I had a child out of wedlock, who knows how many rumors there would be!” “You know how long I waited for this chance. We’ll have more children. Please, alright?” I looked at his pleading eyes, but my tears wouldn’t stop. Finally, my emotions collapsed, and I knelt on the ground, begging him. He squatted down, holding me tightly, but still wouldn’t relent. After he accompanied me through the abortion, he canceled all work and stayed by my side day and night as I had nightmares, never leaving my side. I convinced myself to bury that painful memory. But… “How do you know?!” Chloe Rivers propped up her chin, a knowing smirk on her face. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Jaxson told me in bed.” A voice in my head told me not to get emotional, but my whole body started trembling uncontrollably. Memories collapsed before my eyes, shattering into pieces, impossible to put back together. “Chloe Rivers, shut your damn mouth!” Jaxson appeared out of nowhere, his face cold, and started dragging her away. The woman’s eyes widened suddenly, quickly welling up with tears. “Jaxson, how can you do this to me… I’m carrying your child!” His brow was furrowed deeply, too annoyed to even control his expression. “Things said in bed stay in bed, didn’t I tell you?” “Retire from the industry, and give birth to the child in peace. I’ll give you a sum of money. Chloe Rivers, I’ve given you more than enough.” He looked deeply at me, his hand resting on my shoulder, and said in a low voice, “That time, I drank too much… I didn’t mean what I said.” I abruptly pushed his hand away, a desolate smile on my face. “Jaxson Mason, let’s make a deal.” Fighting back the pain in my heart, I looked at the man I once loved so deeply and said, word for word, “The child can stay. We’re getting a divorce.” Jaxson’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Aria Taylor, what are you saying?!” Chloe Rivers quickly rolled her eyes, feigning an injured look. “To bear your child, I’m willing to retire from the industry, Jaxson. As long as I have a place in your heart…” She continued, “I know, you must be worried about me getting an abortion and harming my body.” After she spoke, she didn’t forget to give me a triumphant look. But Jaxson didn’t even see it. He was just staring intently at me. “Are you really going to be so heartless, Aria? All because of a child!” I smiled weakly, a smile that ultimately faded. “You’re the heartless one, Jaxson Mason.” “Yes, because you had a child with someone else, I want a divorce. You don’t agree?” He should have felt relieved. The man’s eyes trembled violently, and he glared at me fiercely. “I don’t agree!”

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Just before returning to work after the New Year holiday, I managed to squeeze in a tonsillectomy. Post-op, a nurse came to set up my IV drip. I immediately spotted “Penicillin” on the bottle. My throat was too sore to speak easily, so I could only point to the “Penicillin Allergy” line on the patient information card by my bed for the nurse to see. “Excuse me, I’m allergic to penicillin. The doctor prescribed a different antibiotic, a cephalosporin. Did you perhaps get the wrong medication?” To my surprise, after glancing at the prescription, she didn’t stop. Instead, she smiled and moved to inject the IV. “You need anti-inflammatories after surgery, otherwise it will affect your recovery!” “Penicillin is an anti-inflammatory. I haven’t prescribed you the wrong medication, don’t worry.” 1. I slightly opened my mouth, watching her, unheeding, as the needle was about to pierce the rubber stopper of the medicine bottle. I quickly spoke to stop her. “Miss, I’m allergic to penicillin, I can’t have this! The doctor prescribed a different anti-inflammatory for me!” Due to my panic, my voice involuntarily rose. My throat screamed with pain, like swallowing razor blades. My brows furrowed in agony. The nurse flinched, seemingly startled by my voice. Her hand trembled, and the penicillin vial dropped onto the rolling cart. “Patient, please don’t shout. You just had a tonsillectomy and shouldn’t strain your voice.” “Penicillin is an anti-inflammatory; it can help your wound heal.” “The other anti-inflammatory you mentioned has similar effects to penicillin, and the price is about the same.” Listening to her excuses, I instantly let out a mirthless laugh. I was talking about an allergy, and she was talking about price. My anger simmered, but the post-surgical exhaustion left me with no energy to unleash it. So, I reached for the information card at my bedside and held it close to her face, pointing to the line about precautions. I spoke for the third time. “You’re a nurse, for crying out loud. You should recognize the words ‘penicillin allergy,’ shouldn’t you?” “In severe cases, it can lead to anaphylactic shock and death. I, an outsider, shouldn’t have to tell you that, should I?” “Can you not see this line of text?” The nurse’s eyes reddened, and she nervously wrung the corner of her pristine white uniform. “Dr. Chen told me to remind you to speak less and give you anti-inflammatory medication. Please don’t make things difficult for me; I didn’t arrange this.” “I’m a nurse; I understand things you don’t. Penicillin is an anti-inflammatory, specifically used for post-operative inflammation.” 2. I was utterly drained. I truly wanted to just lie down on that hospital bed and never wake up, if only to avoid seeing the idiot in front of me. Taking time off for surgery had already messed up my work schedule. If I didn’t have a crucial meeting with a client in three days to present a proposal, I wouldn’t have been in such a rush to get this surgery done. I closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths. I silently chanted to myself, It’s fine, we’re all just trying to make a living. The sooner I sorted out this anti-inflammatory situation, the sooner my throat would recover. Any delay with the client meeting would impact my promotion. Having composed myself, I opened my eyes. I saw several patients standing at the doorway, peering in. Perhaps my argument with the nurse had been too loud, attracting their attention. The nurse wore a mask, so her expression was unclear, but her reddened eyes betrayed her emotions. The older women, not understanding the full context, had only heard the argument between me and the nurse. They didn’t know what exactly we were fighting about. Seeing our positions, their first assumption was that an unreasonable patient was making trouble for a nurse. A kind older woman spoke up, trying to mediate: “Oh dear, stop arguing, both of you. It’s not easy for anyone.” “She’s just a student nurse, and she’s even paying to be here. If she’s done anything wrong, just be understanding.” “Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill. You just had surgery, get some rest.” The nurse, hearing someone speak up for her, gave the older woman a grateful look. She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. She picked up the penicillin and walked to the IV stand. “Patient, it’s fine if you’re not satisfied with my work, but I still have to do what I’m supposed to, because it’s my duty.” “Please lie down. I’m going to start your IV.” My head instantly felt twice its size. I frantically waved my hand, trying to stop the nurse. “Call your head nurse, or Dr. Chen will do.” “My throat hurts so much right now; I don’t want to waste any more breath.” The nurse clutched the medication, glancing at the older woman at the door. Living up to her expectations, the older woman championed her. “Hey! What’s wrong with young people these days? So arrogant!” “She’s just doing her job, practically begging you, and you still won’t leave her alone.” “You have no skill yourself, so you just complain. You’ll never get rich in this life, will you?” Another grateful look. With a newfound ally, the nurse inserted the needle into the medication bottle. She grabbed my arm, preparing to connect the other end to the IV cannula on my hand. “I understand you’re uncomfortable after surgery, but don’t joke about your health.” “If you don’t get the penicillin, what if your throat gets inflamed again? You’ll be the one suffering.” I widened my eyes, pushing the nurse away with my palm. The anger made me cough violently. My throat hurt even more. I took a deep breath, feeling my blood pressure rise. I was about to lose my temper when the nurse suddenly dropped to the floor. She hugged her knees and burst into tears. “I beg you, please just get your IV. Don’t make a fuss anymore.” “If the head nurse finds out, she’ll scold me again. I’m already not getting paid as an intern, and I have to pay out of my own pocket. If I get a demerit, I’m finished.” The entire room filled with her sobs. She rattled off her misfortunes like spilling beans, describing her alcoholic father, love-struck mother, useless younger brother, and her own pitiable self. If it were the old me, I might have sympathized with her plight. But right now, all I wanted was for a doctor to switch out the penicillin for a different anti-inflammatory, properly treat my throat, and smoothly complete my upcoming client meeting. 3. People are always sympathetic towards the seemingly weak. Especially older women. Their sense of justice overflowing, they can’t stand to see someone taking advantage of another. The older women at the door began to move forward, ready to lecture me. The nurse looked up, her eyes swimming with tears, at me. I stood by the hospital bed, the vigorous movements just now causing the IV cannula on my hand to seep blood. My throat ached terribly, and a burning rage was stifled in my chest, making me feel even worse. Unable to speak, and being roasted over a fire, a sense of powerlessness washed over me. I no longer wanted to argue with a nurse who refused to listen. I turned to walk towards the ward door, heading for the nurses’ station. The nurse stood up, wiping a tear, and forcibly held me back. Her grip was surprisingly strong; her right hand tightly squeezed the back of my left hand, pressing directly on the site of my IV cannula. “If you want to find the head nurse, fine.” “But first, you need to get your penicillin. Once that’s done, I’ll call the head nurse immediately, and you can deal with me as you wish.” “I only have one request: don’t play games with your own health.” A sharp sting shot through the site of my IV cannula. I grimaced, my face flushed with pain. A trickle of blood ran down the back of my hand. She instantly panicked, grabbing a medical gauze from the rolling cart to stop the bleeding. All the while, she chided me for being unruly. “See? Wouldn’t it be better to just get the IV? Now, because of this fuss, your IV cannula will have to be reinserted. More suffering for you.” I was truly speechless with frustration. My throat suddenly hurt, necessitating surgery, which had already messed up my work schedule. And now I was stuck with this nurse. I couldn’t even speak my mind for fear of irritating the wound. I glared fiercely at the nurse and pulled my hand back. My gaze fell on the name tag clipped to her chest: Student Nurse, Chloe Sterling. I committed her name to memory. I swallowed hard and pulled out my phone, ready to call the police. Originally, I’d thought to be more lenient, just letting the hospital assign a different nurse to my IV, and that would be that. But Chloe Sterling had repeatedly twisted my words, making it seem like I was the one in the wrong. With my left hand bleeding, I could only operate with one hand. Just as I unlocked my phone, Chloe Sterling snatched it away, tossing it into the toilet bowl. She pressed the flush button. The phone was swallowed by the drain. “Patient, please don’t interfere with my work.” “I told you, if you want to complain about me, you can, but you have to finish the penicillin first.” “If you want to play on your phone, you can do it when you’re well. I’m going to reinsert your IV cannula now.” In an instant, my mind reeled. My brand-new phone, less than a week old, had just been flushed down the toilet. It cost me two months’ salary! And it held all the work documents I’d planned to organize during my hospital stay! Under my furious gaze, Chloe Sterling finally reacted, her words suddenly stuttering. “Health is the foundation of revolution, you can always buy a new phone, right?” “Just lie down first; I’ll give you the injection.” “I’m just too worried about your health…” 4. I felt utterly drained. My head swam. I was physically and mentally defeated. “I beg you, can you please just leave?” “Call your head nurse, alright?” I rasped, pointing towards the door, just wishing she would vanish from my sight. I feared losing control and wanting to tear her apart. But my current condition wouldn’t allow it. Minimizing losses was what I needed to consider right now. My phone was gone, but I still had my laptop. WeChat usually synchronized chat history on the phone, so I could still see messages from colleagues. As for the phone… I took a few deep breaths, then wearily glanced at the toilet. Even if I fished it out, I wouldn’t want it anymore. The necessary compensation would still be pursued. The immediate priority was solving the IV drip problem. My leave was tightly scheduled. Three days of anti-inflammatory medication after surgery, and then I could meet with the client the day after discharge. Thinking this, I dragged my exhausted body past Chloe Sterling, who was waiting to administer the IV. “I’m saying this one last time: I’m allergic to penicillin. It’s lethal.” “The doctor promised me a cephalosporin. Whether you mixed up the medication or the doctor made a mistake in prescribing it, I’m no longer going to pursue it.” Perhaps my gaze was too sharp, because Chloe Sterling visibly shivered. The older woman at the door clicked her tongue. “What a temper. The nurse is being so considerate, and you’re still so unappreciative.” I scoffed, retorting, “The knife isn’t in your flesh, so you don’t know the pain.” “If you sympathize with her so much, why don’t you pay for my phone?” Hearing the mention of money, the older woman fell silent, awkwardly fanning herself. “What does that have to do with me? I didn’t throw it.” Chloe Sterling, hearing about compensation, visibly tensed. She dropped to her knees with a thud, slapping her own face repeatedly. “Patient, I apologize if you’re not satisfied with my service, alright?” “My mother pulled strings and paid a lot of money to get me in here. If I don’t pass my internship, I’m finished.” “Internships don’t pay. I don’t have money to repay you. My father would kill me if he found out.” She whimpered, crying. “Please…” For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. My steps halted. I was the kind of person who yielded to gentleness but resisted force. My sympathy was too strong. But I wasn’t a saint. I frowned, telling her to get up. “If you don’t have the money, just write an IOU for now. You can pay it back when you have it.” “I won’t complain about you, but please don’t cause me any more trouble.” “Can you just get a different nurse to come, confirm my medication, and give me the anti-inflammatory IV again? Can you do that?” Chloe Sterling whimpered twice, then climbed up from the floor. She tidied up the rolling cart, preparing to leave. “Thank you, you’re so kind.” Watching her leave, the onlookers also dispersed. I could finally lie down on the hospital bed. I let out a long sigh. My head hurt. My throat hurt. My whole body ached. After lying down for a few minutes, I felt thirsty. I opened my weary eyelids, got out of bed, and headed to the water room with my cup. Passing by the fire escape, the door was ajar. A whiff of cigarette smoke assailed my nose. I instinctively frowned, wanting to close the fire escape door tightly. But then I heard a familiar voice. “Damn it, such a hassle.” “Penicillin is an anti-inflammatory, isn’t it?” “I think she just thinks penicillin is more expensive than other anti-inflammatories and doesn’t want to pay for it.” “So she can only make things difficult for me.” “Do these overworked grunts think they’re royalty when they come to the hospital? Later, when I’m giving her the injection, I’ll intentionally bump her. Let her suffer.”

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My wife had failed her driving test for two years straight. Fearing her disappointment, I showered her with even more love. Until one day, ten minutes before my shift, my clingy wife messaged me, saying she was off to driving school for a two-hour, focused practice session, meaning she’d be unreachable. To my surprise, on patrol, I spotted a illegally parked car. I turned on my body camera and approached to investigate. Just as I was about to tap on the window, the car began to rock. A woman’s hand pressed against the glass. The engraving on the ring instantly caught my eye; it was the custom design I made for my wife. 1 In that moment, my mind seemed to cease functioning. I pulled out my phone and called her. It rang many times, but she didn’t answer. My eyes never left the vibrating car. After seeing the entangled figures inside, my hand unconsciously clenched into a fist. The woman in the car was fully indulging in seductive expressions, completely contrary to the demure woman I pictured my wife to be. Finally, the persistent ringing became too noisy, interrupting their passion. The instructor reached to turn off the phone, but Iris quickly stopped him. “No, I can’t turn off my husband’s call, or he’ll worry about me.” “Don’t say anything. I’ll just say a few words to him.” The instructor cursed under his breath, his face full of displeasure. “Damn useless man, always interrupting my fun.” Iris, covering his mouth with one hand, answered the call. “Hello! Hubby, we’ve only been apart for two hours and you miss me already?” Her familiar voice came through the partially open car window. My breathing quickened, as I desperately tried to control my emotions. After calming myself, I asked her, “Wifey, why did it take you so long to answer?” “Because I was practicing driving! I didn’t have time to answer!” “Alright, hubby, I have to hang up now, or the instructor will scold me again. Do you want to see the instructor scold me for wasting time?” Before I could speak, she said, “Love you, hubby,” and hung up. I don’t know what emotions to use to describe how I felt at that moment. I didn’t have the courage to confront them, because Iris and I had come through so much together. I also didn’t want to witness with my own eyes the girl I’d cherished in my heart lose her innocent and beautiful image. Just as my eyes were about to turn crimson, my colleague arrived. “Alex, what’s wrong?” I forced a bitter smile and shook my head. “Nothing, just got some sand in my eyes.” “Good to hear. Let’s go!” “That car up ahead is parked illegally. Look at how violently it’s shaking; I bet they’re up to no good in there.” Liam finished speaking, a slight smile on his lips, his eyes gleaming. “Let’s see who’s so bold.” He had already walked over, and I followed closely behind. As we got closer, a familiar moan of pleasure drifted from the slightly open car window. I clenched my fists tightly, on the verge of exploding with rage, when Liam abruptly rapped on the window. “Ahhh!” “Who the hell is that! So rude!” Startled, the man and woman inside quickly pulled apart. The instructor cursed, grabbing his jacket to cover Iris. When they saw it was traffic police, they quickly opened the car door, stopping the profanities on their lips. Iris avoided eye contact, hiding behind the instructor. “Sir, your car is illegally parked.” “You can’t park within fifty feet of an intersection. Besides points deducted, you’re also facing a fine…” Liam hadn’t finished speaking when he caught a whiff of alcohol. “Have you two been drinking?” As an instructor, he knew the implications of drinking and driving. Iris quickly looked up to defend him. “We didn’t drink and drive, we just… had a few drinks to liven things up.” “That’s right! It’s just some male fun, as a man, you should understand this kind of pleasure.” Liam’s face was serious. “Since you’ve both been drinking, you shouldn’t be driving. Get out; we’re impounding the car.” 2 No matter how unwilling Iris was, she had to comply. The moment she stepped out of the car, she almost shrieked. My back was so familiar to her. Her breathing became ragged, and she stood on edge like a startled bird. Just as she was about to call my name, the instructor scooped her into his arms. “Darling, let’s go!” “There’s a hotel nearby. We didn’t finish our fun earlier; we need to conclude our story!” Iris jumped down frantically, her face ghostly pale, her eyes glued to my back. The instructor followed her gaze, first freezing, then letting out a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry, it won’t be him. If it were, he would’ve already come to catch us.” Iris seemed relieved by his words, letting go of her apprehension. “You’re right! It wouldn’t be my husband.” “He should be home resting by now.” “Send him a message saying you won’t be home tonight, that you’re staying at your friend’s place!” Iris blushed and nodded, then sent me a message. Liam finished writing the ticket and handed it to the instructor. “A fine’s a fine! At least I have a beauty for company tonight.” Watching the two walk away, Liam sighed. “Whose wife is that? So shameless, cheating on her husband.” He didn’t know that I, standing right in front of him, was the husband of that cheating woman. I chose to swallow this ugly truth. Fortunately, Liam didn’t recognize Iris, otherwise the scandal of my wife cuckolding me would surely be known to all by tomorrow. Returning home, the first thing I saw as I entered was our wedding photo, once a source of happiness. I walked over, took it down, and smashed it to smithereens. Glass shards dug into my flesh, yet I felt no pain. My heart ached far more than my hand. Just then, my father called. With a bloody hand, I picked up the phone. Once connected, I found myself unable to organize my thoughts. My father, on the other end, didn’t notice anything amiss. Instead, he softened his usual commanding tone, speaking gently. “Alex, do you really love her that much? I found out her family has always been unhappy with you, feeling that a traffic police officer’s status is beneath her. I also found out her family are all snobs, opportunistic types who only care about money. That’s why I didn’t agree to you marrying her and insisted you hide your identity for a few years as a test!” “A woman like Jane Thompson, the Thompson heiress, is your proper match…” “Dad, I agree to marry her!” My words caused my father to freeze for a moment on the other end, his breathing quickening. “Give me three days. Once I’ve handled everything, I’ll come home for the arranged marriage.” After hanging up, I received a message from Iris: a photo of her and her best friend. It was her way of proving she wasn’t lying, meant to reassure me. But now, I realized she had been lying all along. These photos, she had arranged them beforehand. It suddenly dawned on me: had she been sleeping out every night, secretly meeting the instructor all along? No wonder… no wonder she hadn’t passed her driving test in two full years. It wasn’t a lack of ability, but a deliberate delay to create excuses for her affair. Standing on the rooftop, I smoked all night, the smoke stinging my eyes. The pitch-black night seemed to swallow me whole, leaving me nowhere to escape my despair. I thought our marriage, it was time for it to end. 3 Iris finally stumbled home the next afternoon, looking utterly exhausted. The moment she saw me, she became excitedly clingy, just like always, leaping into my arms, hooking her legs around my back, refusing to let go. “Hubby, did you miss me?” “It’s all Clara’s fault. She broke up with her boyfriend and couldn’t sleep without me, so I was afraid she’d do something rash if I didn’t stay with her.” “But I was also afraid I was neglecting my darling.” “Kiss!” Just as her lips, stained by the instructor’s kisses, were about to land on my face, I instinctively felt disgusted and pushed her away. Iris trembled violently, her entire face slowly turning pale. “H-hubby, what’s wrong?” As tears welled up in her reddening eyes, I took a deep breath. “Nothing, I just have a cold. I don’t want to infect you.” Hearing the word “cold,” Iris became instantly frantic. She rushed over, full of self-reproach and guilt, hugging me tightly again. “Hubby, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault for not taking good care of you.” “My own husband is sick, and I ran off to take care of my best friend.” “I’m not going anywhere today. I’ll stay home with you.” True to her word, Iris transformed into a caring wife, fussing over me. She personally fed me, told jokes to cheer me up, and if I so much as sneezed, she’d rush over frantically. Watching her make cold medicine for me in the kitchen, the warm sunlight catching her, I fell deep into thought. If only she hadn’t lied and cheated, we would have continued our life together. But behind the love, there were already countless scars. Even as she made my cold medicine, she was secretly sending flirtatious messages to the instructor. I didn’t know what he said, but her expression became restless, as if unsatisfied. After coaxing me to sleep, she quietly slipped out. I grabbed my jacket and followed close behind her, only to see her leap into the instructor’s arms from a distance. They kissed passionately, then tumbled into the bushes, letting the darkness conceal them. What she didn’t know was that I had already documented everything she did. After leaving with a heavy heart, I finally made up my mind to leave her. The third day was her mother’s birthday. Iris wanted me to go back with her to celebrate her mother’s birthday. The moment we entered, my mother-in-law’s face was filled with disdain. Even though I was carrying expensive gifts, she couldn’t change her disdain for me. Iris sweetly called out, “Mommy.” My mother-in-law’s expression softened considerably. Just then, my brother-in-law arrived with Iris’s driving instructor. “Sister, look, I’ve invited your instructor. You’re so bad at driving, you should get closer to the instructor. He’ll surely teach you well.” Iris’s eyes lit up when she saw the instructor, and the restlessness etched into her heart began to stir. The instructor also looked at her with burning eyes. My brother-in-law, smiling, led the instructor to my mother-in-law. “Mom, don’t underestimate him just because he’s an instructor. He’s quite wealthy! He has dozens of properties and eight figures in his bank account. Being an instructor is just a hobby for him.” The words had barely left his lips when my mother-in-law beamed. “I can’t believe you’re so accomplished at such a young age!” “Unlike some people, who only managed to become a traffic cop, with no ambition in life. How can someone like that support a family…” “Mom, I won’t allow you to talk about Alex like that.” Iris always defended me when she heard others insult me, especially when we were out. “Everyone has their own aspirations. What’s wrong with being a traffic cop?” “If he hadn’t saved me back then, I’d be dead on the highway.” My mother-in-law was about to say more when the instructor, playing the good guy, stopped the argument. “Madam, you’re so young and beautiful; I can’t even tell you’ve had children. You look more like Iris’s sister.” My mother-in-law was delighted by his flattery. She kept piling food onto his plate, offering him drinks, and subtly nudging Iris closer to him. If it were before, I would have been disheartened and sad. But not anymore, because I no longer cared. After dinner, my brother-in-law insisted on dragging me out for a walk. He had always been sarcastic towards me, so this couldn’t be simple.

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