To save my boyfriend, Andrews, I got injured and ended up in the hospital. Months later, the doctor said my wounds were healing well, and I could finally be discharged. Andrews looked at me with tenderness in his eyes. “That’s great, Pegula. You’re okay. I can finally rest easy.” My heart swelled with joy. “Once I’m out, we’ll get married.” But he shook his head, a hint of apology in his smile. “What I meant was, I can finally rest easy and leave.” “Ramon has been waiting for me for over half a year. I couldn’t possibly break up with you while you were sick; that would be too cruel.” “Now that you’ve recovered, it’s time for me to go and pursue my own happiness.” I touched my lower abdomen, which still ached faintly, and my heart went utterly cold. So all his meticulous care was just so he could guilt-free run to someone else. Andrews acted as if he didn’t see my face instantly drain of color. He spoke, his tone light with relief. “You know, Ramon is so fragile, and she adores me. She’d do anything for me, even be with me without any formal commitment.” “Last month, on my birthday, she gave herself to me, like a present.” My throat tightened, each word squeezed out from between my teeth. “Last month… I was still in the ICU.” He chuckled, a reminiscent and slightly boastful glint in his eyes. “Right here, on this hospital bed. You were in a coma then. She cried, saying she was terrified something would happen to you, and even more terrified I’d fall apart. She insisted on comforting me with herself.” “Ramon’s crying… it just does something to you.” I followed his captivated gaze to the white sheets beneath me. I could almost see another young, soft body, intimately entwined with the man I loved, right here, while I lay clinging to life. My stomach churned violently. I dug my nails into the edge of the bed, not even feeling them break and bleed, numb to everything but the crushing pain in my chest. He cupped my face, seemingly oblivious to the hatred in my eyes, and frowned, perplexed. “Why are you crying? I’ll compensate you with money for the injuries you sustained for me.” In Andrews’ eyes, there was still that deep affection I’d known, etched into my very soul. It was as if the person excitedly describing having sex with another woman on my sickbed wasn’t him. I gasped for air, my heart clutched by an invisible hand, aching as if it would explode. He sighed in exasperation, pulling out a tissue to wipe away my tears, his movements as gentle as if he were handling a precious treasure. “Pegula, you’re the person I’m most grateful for, but Ramon is the one I love.” “If it weren’t for you, I would have been the one crushed under the construction scaffolding that day. If my hands were ruined, how would I draw, how would I win awards?” “Ramon just joined the design firm; she has a brilliant future ahead. I can’t let her be branded as a homewrecker because of me, so I proposed to her the day before yesterday. She really loves the ring.” “You’ve always been the most understanding, the most generous. You’ll bless us, won’t you?” Construction site, proposal, ring. Three months ago, he took me to inspect a project site he’d personally designed when the scaffolding suddenly collapsed. I didn’t hesitate, pushing him out of the way, only to be hit in the abdomen by a steel bar, collapsing unconscious on the spot. I lay in the ICU for half a month, and he stayed by my side for half a month. Everyone said our love was stronger than steel. But it turned out that while he was guarding me, he was also guilt-free enjoying another woman’s body. I curled my cold fingers, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “We’re over.” He paused, then chuckled, as if I was telling a childish joke. “Pegula, don’t say things you don’t mean.” “For me, you gave up your future in France, haven’t touched your scent lab in seven years, and your sense of smell has deteriorated. What else can you do now besides being my assistant?” “If you leave me, who would want you?” I stared at him intently. Seven years. I went from being the most promising young perfumer to just a regular assistant by his side. I thought our love story was that of a genius architect and his muse. But now, he was telling me I was just a worn-out tool he’d used up. My phone rang. It was the special ringtone he’d set for Ramon. I’d heard it many times – when I was asleep, when I was disoriented after surgery. He always said it was a client. It turned out I had been living a complete joke all along. He didn’t answer immediately, instead saying in a placating tone, “Don’t stoop to bickering with a young girl. Our seven years together, surely that’s worth more than her few months?” “You’re not getting any younger, Pegula. No one else will take you. Just listen to me, stop being dramatic.” He rose, leaned down, and pressed a cold kiss on my forehead. “You handle your own discharge. Ramon has prepared a celebration party for me, I need to get going.” The moment the hospital room door closed, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I retched violently by the bedside. Andrews was wrong. No one proposes to a mere pastime. That ring, I waited seven years for it, until my heart died. True feelings don’t disappear; they just shift.

Back at the home Andrews and I had shared for five years, his car was parked downstairs. The car window was halfway down, and Ramon’s seductive gasps drifted out, interrupted. “Andrews…” “Call me ‘babe’.” “Babe… you’re amazing…” “Compared to Pegula, who makes you feel better?” “Definitely you… she’s so lifeless, how could she compare?” I stood rooted to the spot, my blood feeling like it had frozen solid. It was midsummer, but I was so cold my teeth chattered. An hour later, Andrews walked into the living room, his arm around Ramon’s waist. Seeing me, Ramon flinched like a startled rabbit, her eyes instantly red, and she hid in Andrews’ embrace. “Why is she here? Andrews, didn’t you say this would be our home?” “Do you still love her? You lied to me!” “No matter how much I love you, I’ll never be a homewrecker! I’m leaving right now!” Andrews immediately hugged her tight, cooing and kissing her. “What are you thinking? I’ve given you the wedding ring; you’re my wife, Ramon. This is absolutely our home.” “She’s just here to pack her things.” He looked at me, no trace of guilt in his eyes, only cold annoyance. “Pegula, isn’t that small studio apartment across town still empty? Go live there.” My mind went blank, a dull ache in my chest making it almost impossible to breathe. Three years ago, when we moved in here, Andrews had hugged me, his eyes shining like stars. “Pegula, this is our home now. We’ll have our paintings here, our cat, and our children.” But now, this man who promised me a home was kicking me out like trash. “Pegula, Ramon is upset. I don’t want to repeat myself.” His voice was soft, but it carried an undeniable warning. It was then that I vaguely realized he wasn’t joking. After a long, suffocating silence, under his unwavering gaze, I spoke hoarsely, “Okay.” Andrews seemed surprised by my compliance. His eyes flickered. As I started to rise, he suddenly grabbed my wrist, his tone softening. “There’s an industry conference next week. Come with me.” I instinctively wanted to refuse. But he spoke first. “It’s Ramon’s first time at such an event. She doesn’t know many of the senior figures. You should come along, introduce her, and make sure no one gives her a hard time.” I froze, the absurdity almost making me laugh out loud. He wanted me to pave her way? But then I thought of the wild plan brewing in my heart, and I nodded. Before the conference, Ramon claimed she had no suitable dress and picked out my most cherished gown from my walk-in closet. It was the dress I wore when I first won an international perfumery award, along with the matching antique jewelry. That was the last shred of my glory as “Pegula,” not “Andrews’ assistant.” At the conference, she clung to Andrews’ arm. And I, like a humble shadow, followed behind them, fetching drinks and making introductions for her. Those senior figures who once showered me with praise now looked at me with scorn and pity. “Isn’t that Pegula? Such a brilliant and talented perfumer back then. How did a few years as Andrews’ assistant turn her into this?” “You haven’t heard? Andrews is marrying the one next to him.” “Pegula? She’s just a glorified housekeeper he got to sleep with for seven years. Now her home’s even been taken over.” “Women really need their own careers. Otherwise, look, once she’s past her prime, when she gets kicked out, she can’t even open her mouth.” I practically fled into the ladies’ room, only to hear a discussion from the stalls between a few young designers. “Andrews is such a winner at life! I heard Pegula was the real mastermind behind his ‘Rising Star’ entry this time, right?” “Definitely. Pegula’s inspiration is Andrews’ entire creative arsenal. Without Pegula, Andrews is nothing.” “So, he’s kicked Pegula out and married Ramon. What’s he going to do now?” My heart clenched, but then I heard a frivolous laugh. It was Neto, Andrews’ confidant. “Andrews said Pegula’s world revolves around him. He made her utterly dependent for seven years; she can’t leave him.” “This is just her throwing a little tantrum. Once he gets tired of Ramon, he’ll snap his fingers, and Pegula will come crawling back to slave for him.” “She’s just a used-up old tool. What could she possibly do now?” I couldn’t hear another word. I rushed to the sink, splashing cold water on my face again and again, finally biting down hard on my hand to keep from crying out loud. Tears of humiliation mixed with the water, splattering onto the cold marble counter. Andrews, you’re wrong. This time, I won’t wait for you. The moment I turned around, a stinging slap landed hard on my face.

I clutched my instantly red and swollen face, looking at Ramon in disbelief. She shook her tingling hand, the innocent, harmless expression on her face utterly gone, replaced only by malice and venom. “You heard everything, didn’t you? Andrews will be mine very soon. Why are you shamelessly clinging to him? Aren’t you pathetic?” “You love throwing yourself at men so much, why don’t you go work at a nightclub?” “Oh, right, you’re so worthless, paying for love for seven years and still not getting a title. You’re only good enough for broke losers.” My head buzzed. I watched her malicious face open and close, shaking with anger. Just as I was about to speak, she suddenly let out a shriek, violently ripped the strap of her dress, and dramatically fell backward. “Pegula!” Andrews’ cold, furious voice exploded behind me. He lunged forward, carefully helped Ramon up, and held her tightly in his arms. Ramon cried beautifully, like a tragic actress, as if she’d suffered the greatest injustice. “Andrews, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come between you two. It’s all my fault; I’m the wicked homewrecker.” Saying this, she raised her hand and slapped herself hard twice across the face. Andrews immediately grabbed her hand, his face contorting in pain as he looked at her swollen cheeks. “Who told you these things?” Ramon bit her lip hard, shaking her head frantically. “Please don’t ask, Andrews, I beg you.” But her eyes flickered with terror toward me, as if I was some monstrous threat. “A girl from an ordinary family like me can’t possibly stand up to Pegula. She has so many influential people helping her; I can’t fight her…” “Andrews, please let me go. I don’t want to get acid splashed on me on the street later…” His brow furrowed, and a scrutinizing, displeased gaze fell upon me. “Explain!” I lowered the hand covering my face, revealing clear five-finger marks. “You should ask her what she said to me.” “Pegula!” Ramon shrieked shrilly. “Yes, I hit you, but that’s because you called my parents country bumpkins and said you’d make sure they couldn’t show their faces in their hometown!” “They’re innocent! If you’re still not satisfied, hit me back! I beg you, don’t go after my parents!” I was so angry my vision blurred. “You’re making things up! I never—” “Enough!” Andrews interrupted me coldly, his eyes filled with a thick, suffocating wave of disappointment. “Pegula, I’ve indulged you too much.” “Do you think just because you’re an orphan, I can’t do anything to you?” Perhaps my heart was already numb, or perhaps I had expected this. I actually laughed. “So, how do you plan to stick up for your fiancée?” He walked toward me step by step, reached out, and slowly, deliberately, took off the necklace I had worn for seven years. It was a birthday gift I bought for him with the prize money from my first competition. He turned and said to his assistant, “Call the police. Tell them Ms. Ramon’s design drafts were stolen, and the thief was caught red-handed.” I forgot how to react, my mind utterly blank. Andrews was notorious in the industry for playing favorites. He had protected me under his wings for seven years; no one in the entire industry dared to pull any stunts on me. But now, he was the one who personally plunged the knife into my back. Andrews clutched the necklace, his cold, detached expression appearing utterly foreign in my blurry, tear-filled vision. “Pegula, you’re too disobedient.” “This time it’s stealing design drafts; what next? Are you going to ruin Ramon’s hands?” “Go spend some time cooling off and thinking about what you’ve done.” “Don’t worry, it won’t be for long. When you get out, I’ll personally pick you up.” I forced a wry smile. Watching the police approach me, as the cold handcuffs clicked shut on my wrists, I forcefully pulled my hand from his grasp. The sudden emptiness in his palm made Andrews instinctively frown. He stared at my resolute back, suddenly seized by a panic that he might never be able to hold onto me again. Ramon, however, was quicker. She linked her arm through his, her voice sweet and syrupy.

“Andrews, thank you for standing up for me. I was really terrified just now.” He came back to himself, dotingly flicking her nose. “What kind of compensation do you want?” Ramon’s gaze fell on the necklace in his hand. She smiled, took it, and casually tossed it into a nearby trash can. Andrews’ face instantly changed. Ramon immediately looked wronged, her eyes turning red. “Was this necklace very important to you?” She made a show of reaching for the trash can. “Then I’ll help you pick it up… After all, it’s seven years of feelings. Even though she did this to me, I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” Andrews pulled her back, his heart aching beyond measure. “A piece of junk necklace, it’s nothing compared to you. Don’t dirty your hands. You have that black card, don’t you? Buy whatever you like.” Ramon’s tears turned to laughter immediately. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t want your money; I love you.” “Yes, yes, I want to spend money on you. If you don’t spend it, my heart aches.” Only then did she shyly bury her head in his chest. Three days later, I was released from the police station. It wasn’t Andrews who came to meet me, but his assistant, who drove me directly to a private club’s VIP room. Pushing open the door, under the lavish lights, Andrews and Ramon were surrounded by a group of people in the center of a sofa. They were feeding each other a cherry, mouth-to-mouth, kissing passionately. The cheers and whistles around them were threatening to blow the roof off. I don’t know how long it was before Andrews finally noticed me. Seeing my pale, gaunt face and the still-fading red marks on my wrists, his expression darkened. “How did you get like this? Did someone bully you inside?” Before I could speak, Ramon covered her mouth and chuckled. “Pegula is such an actress! Everyone knows you’re Andrews’ pet, who would dare touch you?” “Are you trying to make Andrews feel sorry for you, looking like that?” Andrews, who had been about to get up, sat back down at her words. “Since you know you were wrong, come over here and apologize to Ramon.” Ramon nestled in Andrews’ arms, swirling the scarlet wine in her glass. “Actually, I’m not that petty.” “But you insulted my parents and almost ruined my future. I just can’t swallow that.” She paused, then feigned surprise, covering her mouth. “Oh, I forgot. You’re an orphan, grew up in a welfare institution, no parents to teach you manners. It’s normal you wouldn’t understand these things.” I lowered my eyes, saying nothing. She pushed her wine glass onto the coffee table, her chin slightly raised. “Apologize.” I lowered my head. “I’m sorry.” Ramon shook her head. “What good is saying it? That’s not sincere enough.” She pointed to a row of various strong liquors on the table. “Drink all of these, and I’ll forgive you.” I looked at the bottles, instinctively glancing at Andrews. Years ago, to help him with client entertainment, I drank until I had a perforated stomach and was in the hospital for a month. After that, he never allowed me to touch a drop of alcohol again. He knew better than anyone that alcohol was no different from poison to me. But the man before me merely exhaled a puff of smoke, his tone as calm as if discussing the weather. “Pegula, it’s just a few drinks. It’s not that serious. I know your alcohol tolerance.” My heart was clutched by an icy hand, the pain making it impossible to breathe. I picked up a glass and tilted my head back, chugging it down. The spicy liquid burned like fire from my throat to my stomach. Immediately after, a sharp, twisting pain shot through my recently healed lower abdomen. I bent over in agony. “Pegula’s alcohol tolerance is so good, one glass isn’t enough.” Ramon smiled with feigned innocence. “How about you down this whole bottle too? That would show real sincerity.” My face was ashen. I looked up at her. Ramon immediately turned to Andrews, looking wronged. “Andrews, I was insulted, threatened, and almost had my future ruined by her. Now I just want her to drink a bottle of wine to make amends. Is that asking too much?” “Of course not.” Andrews stubbed out his cigarette, his tone matter-of-fact. “Pegula, I want to protect you, but you really went too far this time. Listen to Ramon. Once her anger cools down, we’ll turn the page on this.” I slowly nodded. Clutching my abdomen, which felt like it was being sliced open, I picked up the bottle of the strongest whiskey on the table. “A few drinks? How is that enough to atone?” “I’ll down this whole thing, that’s what you call sincerity.” The moment the bottle hit the floor with a heavy thud, I couldn’t hold on any longer. I spat out a mouthful of blood. I collapsed weakly to the ground. Ramon shrieked, jumping back. “Pegula, you don’t need to be so dramatic! It’s just a bottle of wine. Are you carrying a fake blood pack around to stage an injury?” Andrews was also convinced by her ridiculous lie. He frowned impatiently. “Alright, stop acting! Ramon has been generous enough. How long do you plan to keep this up? Aren’t you ashamed? Get up!” I said nothing, just looked up, staring silently at him. The woman closest to me suddenly shrieked. “Blood! There’s blood all over her dress! Oh my God, her wound has burst open!” I met Andrews’ face, which had instantly drained of color, and let out the first truly sincere smile I’d had in days. “Is the compensation you wanted enough now?”

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My fiancé of five years and my half-sister, Serena, teamed up to stab me in the back, turning me into the most hated plagiarist in the fashion industry. At the new collection launch, they grandly announced their engagement, trampling my dignity underfoot. The entire internet ridiculed me, demanding I get out of the design world. Someone even threw acid at me. But my good-for-nothing bodyguard, who usually just played video games and slept all day on a measly salary, slowly stood up. He kicked the attacker away. Then, in front of the live global broadcast, he made a call to the head of the world’s most powerful conglomerate. “My sister’s sick of this garbage industry.” He casually wiped the blood from his hands. “Ten minutes. I want Hayes Corporation bankrupt.” The entire internet erupted. The deadbeat they’d ridiculed was actually the heir to an untouchable East Coast dynasty, controlling the global economy. He cornered me against the wall, under the spotlight, his eyes blazing. “Chloe, now you can only rely on me.”

My name is Chloe Miller. I used to be the youngest top fashion designer in the country. In five years, I had won countless awards and founded my own brand, Zephyr. But today, my reputation was ruined. At Zephyr’s Autumn Couture Show, the big screen wasn’t playing my designs. Instead, it showed the “original sketches” of my half-sister, Serena Miller. The two designs were identical. The only difference was that Serena’s sketches were dated a full three months earlier than mine. “Chloe Miller, have you no shame? Plagiarizing your own sister’s work!” “Boycott the copycat! Get out of the design world!” The media and audience below the stage surged forward. Flashes went off like daggers, ready to tear me to pieces. I stared at the two people standing center stage. One was Serena Miller, currently nestled in a man’s arms, sobbing. That man was Ethan Hayes, CEO of Hayes Corporation. He was also my fiancé of five years, whom I was supposed to marry next month. “Ethan, please don’t blame Chloe. She probably just wanted to win too badly…” Serena tugged at Ethan’s sleeve, her voice soft. Ethan pulled her closer, then looked at me with disgust. “Chloe Miller, I never thought you would be this kind of person.” Ethan’s voice was cold. “Serena treated you like family, and you stole her life’s work. From today on, our engagement is off. Hayes Corporation will withdraw its investment from Zephyr and sue you.” The entire hall gasped. I stood on stage, my body going numb. Three months ago, Ethan said he wanted to give me a surprise and took all my rough drafts and initial designs. It turned out his surprise was to put Serena’s name on my work and then publicly push me into hell. “Ethan Hayes, you will pay for this.” I gritted my teeth, my eyes red, but I didn’t cry. “Pay for this?” Ethan sneered. “You should worry about yourself.” The moment he finished speaking, a crazed fan suddenly rushed onto the stage, holding a water bottle, and lunged at me. “Die, plagiarist!” A sharp chemical smell filled the air. It was acid. I couldn’t dodge. My mind went blank. I closed my eyes in despair. But the pain never came. A hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me into an embrace that smelled faintly of tobacco. Then came a loud bang. The attacker was kicked away, crashing against the backdrop. The acid splashed onto the floor, instantly corroding a large, blackened hole. The entire hall fell silent. Still shaking, I looked up. I saw an extremely arrogant, impossibly handsome face. Jaxson King. My bodyguard and personal assistant. His main activities: sleeping and playing video games. He slept until noon every day, woke up to play games, ate the meals I cooked, and went back to sleep. When I asked why he didn’t get a real job, he would always lean lazily on the couch and say, “Work? Start a business? My sister supports me.” I paid him three thousand dollars a month, and he often complained I wasn’t generous enough. But at this moment, he held my waist with one hand and ran the other through his messy black hair. He looked down, his deep eyes slightly narrowed, a cold ferocity in them. “Touch her? Who do you think you are?”

“What are you doing? Security!” Ethan Hayes was the first to react, pointing at Jaxson and yelling. A few security guards nervously surrounded us. Jaxson didn’t even glance at them. He looked down at me, his brow slightly furrowed. “Are you hurt?” His voice was a little hoarse, with a hint of tension. I shook my head and pushed him away. “Why are you here?” “To pick you up from work.” He said it casually, his gaze sweeping over the acid marks on the floor. His eyes turned ice-cold. He turned and walked toward Ethan and Serena. Jaxson was over six feet tall. Though he wore a faded black T-shirt, the intimidation radiating from him made Ethan take a step back. “What do you want? I’m warning you, this is Hayes Corporation’s property!” Ethan shouted. Jaxson let out a soft laugh. “Hayes Corporation’s property?” He slowly pulled out his phone and dialed a number. When the call connected, he said only one sentence. “Ten minutes. I want Hayes Corporation bankrupt.” The entire hall was silent for a second, then erupted in laughter. “Who is this guy? Is he crazy?” “He’s just a bodyguard. Does he think he’s a CEO?” “Ten minutes to bankrupt Hayes Corporation? Does he think he’s the heir to an East Coast dynasty?” Ethan also laughed. “Chloe Miller, is this the loser you found? A good-for-nothing who only knows how to brag?” Serena Miller giggled. “Chloe, if you are going to hire someone to act, at least get someone believable.” I tugged at Jaxson’s sleeve and whispered, “Jaxson, stop messing around. Let’s go.” I didn’t want to stay and be a spectacle. Jaxson held my hand. His palm was warm. “Chloe, what’s the rush?” A wicked smile played on his lips. “The show has just begun.” Time ticked by. Five minutes later. Ethan’s phone rang. He picked it up casually. “Hello?” The next second, his face went pale. “What did you say? The capital chain is broken? The bank is calling in loans? All partners have terminated their contracts?” Ethan’s voice cracked with fear. The phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor. His legs gave out, and he collapsed. The entire hall was silent. Everyone stared at Jaxson as if he were a monster. Jaxson looked down at Ethan. “I told you. Touch her, and you are nothing.”

The press conference ended with Hayes Corporation declaring bankruptcy. Jaxson practically pushed me into his beat-up car. A suffocating silence filled the car. I stared at the night scenery, my mind a mess. Ethan’s betrayal, Serena’s scheme, and Jaxson’s unbelievable phone call. “Who are you?” I finally broke the silence, turning to look at him. Jaxson gripped the steering wheel with one hand. His profile was sharp. He chuckled. “Me? Your good-for-nothing bodyguard, hired for three thousand bucks.” “Jaxson, stop lying to me.” I took a deep breath. “An ordinary bodyguard couldn’t bankrupt Hayes Corporation with one phone call.” “Maybe Ethan brought it on himself?” He turned his head. “Chloe, instead of my identity, shouldn’t you be more concerned about your situation?” I froze. He was right. Hayes Corporation was bankrupt, but the “plagiarist” label still stuck to me. Serena had her “original sketches,” and all my early drafts had been destroyed by Ethan. In the design world, plagiarism was a capital offense. My brand, Zephyr, was being boycotted. My studio was shut down. I was penniless and homeless. The car stopped in front of a rundown apartment building. This was Jaxson’s rented place. “Go on up.” He pulled out the keys and opened the door for me. The apartment was small but clean. I sat on the narrow sofa, watching Jaxson take two cans of beer from the fridge. He handed one to me. “Here. To calm your nerves.” I took the beer. My fingertips brushed his cold ones. “Jaxson, why are you helping me?” I looked up. He leaned against the table, his long legs crossed, and took a sip of beer. “Because you are my boss.” He put down the can, a half-smile on his lips. “If you go bankrupt, who will pay me?” “But…” “No buts.” He suddenly leaned in, his hands on either side of the sofa, trapping me. His masculine scent enveloped me. I was forced to look up at his handsome face so close to mine. “Chloe Miller.” He dropped his lazy smile. His gaze became intense. “Remember, from now on, you can only rely on me.” His voice was deep and husky. I bit my lip and turned my head away. “I don’t need to rely on anyone. I will prove my innocence myself.” Jaxson chuckled. His fingers pinched my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Prove it? With what? You don’t even have money to buy fabric.” His words were like a sharp knife. “That’s none of your business!” I pushed his hand away and stood up to leave. But he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms. “Let me go!” I struggled. “Stop moving.” His hands were like iron clamps around my waist. His chin rested on my head. “Chloe, you are so stubborn. You will only get hurt.” His voice held a hint of helplessness. I froze in his arms, feeling his powerful heartbeat. Finally, my tears fell.

In the following days, I fully experienced what it meant to be kicked while I was down. The media that used to praise me now published daily articles denouncing me. My former peers avoided me. Even some students I had mentored publicly distanced themselves from me. I had become a pariah. Meanwhile, Serena Miller stepped over my ruined career and became the design world’s hottest “genius.” Although Hayes Corporation went bankrupt, Serena quickly latched onto another powerful connection — Asher Thorne, the second son of the Thorne family, one of the most prominent dynasties on the East Coast. To win her favor, Asher poured money into Serena’s new personal brand. He also announced that Serena would represent the country at the Global Young Designers Competition in Paris next month. That was the dream of every designer. It was also the goal I had prepared for for three years. I slammed the newspaper onto the table. “Angry?” Jaxson came out of the kitchen with a plate of a sandwich and placed it in front of me. “Eat.” I looked at the a sandwich. I had no appetite. “Jaxson, I want to enter that competition.” I looked up, my eyes determined. Jaxson raised an eyebrow and sat down. “You don’t even have the qualifications. How will you enter?” “I can apply through a wild card.” I gritted my teeth. “If I can get a recommendation letter from an international judge, I can compete.” “International judge?” Jaxson scoffed. “Your reputation is so bad now. Who would write you a letter?” “I will see Master Charles.” I took a deep breath. “He saw my work before and admired it. If I can show him my new designs, he will help me.” Master Charles was a titan in the global fashion industry and the chief judge for this competition. He happened to be on vacation in the country. Jaxson looked at me. “Are you sure you want to go?” “I have to.” I clenched my fists. “This is my only chance.” Jaxson said nothing more. The next day, carrying the design sketches I had drawn overnight, I arrived at Master Charles’s hotel. But I couldn’t even get past the main entrance. “I’m sorry, Ms. Miller. Master Charles isn’t seeing anyone.” The hotel manager coldly blocked me. “I just need ten minutes. Five minutes will do.” I pleaded. “Chloe Miller, have you no shame?” A sharp voice came from behind me. I turned around and saw Serena Miller, arm-in-arm with Asher Thorne, walking over. Serena was wearing a custom-made gown, her makeup perfect. “Chloe, you have been blacklisted. Why are you still here making a scene?” Serena walked up to me. “Master Charles is about to see me. Leave now so you don’t dirty his eyes.” I glared at her. “Serena Miller, you stole my work. Don’t you have nightmares?” “Stole? Do you have proof?” Serena giggled. “Now the whole internet knows that you, Chloe Miller, plagiarized me. You are a failure.” Asher Thorne also looked at me with disgust. “Security, get this woman out of here.” Several security guards grabbed my arms and dragged me outside. My design sketches scattered on the floor, trampled underfoot. “Let me go!” I struggled, tears streaming down my face. Just then, a black Maybach pulled up at the hotel entrance. The door opened, and a pair of long legs stepped out. Jaxson King. Today, he wasn’t wearing a faded T-shirt. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit. His hair was combed. He exuded an undeniable nobility. He walked toward me and kicked away the security guard holding me. “Who gave you the right to touch her?”

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I suffered from severe pyrophobia and haphephobia. My fiancé, a top psychologist, spent three years of gentle patience, pulling me back from hell. I thought he was my savior and decided to say yes to his hundredth proposal. But on the day I was trying on my wedding dress, I accidentally pushed open the secret door in his study, disguised as a bookshelf. Behind a one-way mirror, the walls were covered with photos of my agonizing struggles, along with an experimental report about to be published. And he was holding another heavily pregnant woman in his arms, his voice chilling: “She’s just a lab rat for me to overcome academic challenges. With one more severe fire stimulus, my data will be perfect.” In that moment, my world turned to ice. Later, I died in that fire as he wished, but he went completely insane. A cold dread washed over me, my blood freezing in my veins. Through a one-way mirror, I watched Julian Vance, my fiancé of three years, gently caressing another woman’s swollen pregnant belly. “Julian, I’m pregnant.” The woman cooed, her voice full of possessiveness. “When are you going to get rid of that crazy woman?” Julian. My treating therapist. My fiancé. The man who had spent three sleepless years proposing to me ninety-nine times, all to cure my pyrophobia and touch aversion. Now, his face bore a coldness and calculation I’d never seen before. “Scarlett, don’t be childish.” He lowered his head and kissed her forehead. “You know, Ember is just an extremely valuable research subject to me.” “My new desensitization therapy is at a critical stage. All I need to do is put her in a simulated fire chamber next week, get her final physiological data under extreme fear, and my research will win an international award.” “Then, we’ll get married.” Every word was a knife twisting in my heart. I covered my mouth, biting hard into the back of my hand, desperate not to make a sound. The taste of rust spread in my mouth. Just ten minutes ago, I was preparing for his hundredth proposal, joyfully looking for his tie in his study. But I accidentally triggered a mechanism on the bookshelf. This secret room, hidden behind the study, felt like a massive mockery. The walls were plastered with photos of me convulsing in agony during my episodes, annotated with meticulous data: heart rate, blood pressure, fear index. It turned out that every gentle embrace, every patient reassurance, even every proposal. None of it was out of love. It was all to test the obedience of a lab rat. I stumbled backward, knocking over a nearby chair. A muffled thud. Julian, on the other side of the glass, suddenly looked up, his gaze shooting towards the wall like a blade. “Who’s in there?”

The secret door was violently pushed open. Julian stood silhouetted against the light in the doorway. When he saw it was me, a flicker of panic darted in his eyes. But it was only for an instant, before his usual aloof, cold demeanor returned. Scarlett followed behind him. Seeing my disheveled state, she covered her mouth and let out a laugh. “Oh dear, the lab rat escaped.” I ignored her, just stared intensely into Julian’s eyes, my body trembling uncontrollably. “Three years…” I heard my own cracked voice. “Julian, these past three years, you were lying to me the entire time?” Julian stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to touch me. “Ember, calm down. You’re very unstable right now, this isn’t good for your condition.” “Don’t touch me!” I screamed, violently swatting his hand away. My severe haphephobia immediately flared up. The spot he touched felt like it was crawling with a thousand ants, and my stomach churned violently. Gagging, I collapsed to the floor. Julian frowned, looking down at me, his tone finally dropping all pretense. “Since you’ve heard everything, there’s no need for me to keep up the act.” He adjusted his tie, his eyes cold and dismissive. “Ember, you need to face reality. You’re a patient with severe psychological issues. Without me, you’d be lost in the darkness by now.” “I gave you three years of normal life. You cooperate with me to complete the final data collection, we both get what we want. It’s fair.” Fair? I looked up at this man I once worshipped, and laughed until tears streamed down my face. He pulled me out of one abyss, only to push me into an even deeper hell. Scarlett stepped forward, her high heel crunching on my skirt. “Why waste words on a lunatic?” She looked at me scornfully. “If it weren’t for Julian’s academic standing, do you think you’d be living in this mansion? Just finish the experiment and get out of my sight.” I bit my lip hard, staring at Julian: “What if I don’t cooperate?” Julian crouched down, his long, slender fingers gripping my chin, his eyes sinister. “Ember, you don’t have the right to refuse. In your current mental state, all it takes is one word from me to have you forcefully admitted to a high-security psychiatric facility.” “You’d better be obedient.”

I was imprisoned. Julian confiscated my phone and locked the mansion’s gates. He was no longer the gentle and empathetic therapist. After shedding his mask, he became a cold-blooded dictator. Over the next few days, he began to forcibly reduce my anti-anxiety medication. He was forcing me into an episode. Without the suppression of the medication, those deep-buried fears surged back like a tide. Night after night, I had nightmares, dreaming of the fire that took my parents, dreaming of flames licking my skin. I started frantically scratching myself until my arms were bleeding profusely. Every time I had an episode, Julian would stand behind the one-way mirror, coldly recording data. “Heart rate 140, pupils dilated, self-harming tendencies observed…” His voice came through the loudspeaker into the room, cold and mechanical. I lay on the floor, looking at the blurry silhouette in the glass. The love in my heart was slowly crushed, turning into bone-deep hatred. On the fourth day, Scarlett came. She stood before me, her pregnant belly prominent, holding a cup of hot coffee. “Tsk, tsk, how pathetic.” She looked down at me. “Julian says your threshold is almost reached. Tomorrow, he’ll activate the simulated fire chamber.” At the words “fire chamber,” my whole body jolted. That was my Achilles’ heel. Scarlett seemed pleased with my reaction. She deliberately tilted the hot coffee in her hand. Scalding liquid splashed onto the back of my hand. “Ah–!” I screamed in pain, not just from the burn, but because the heat awakened memories of being scorched by flames. Curled up in the corner like a madwoman, I screamed and trembled. Scarlett laughed loudly and left. The moment the door closed, I stopped screaming. I slowly looked up, staring at the red swelling on the back of my hand, my eyes utterly lifeless. My tears had dried up. I couldn’t just sit there and wait to die. If I entered the simulated fire chamber tomorrow, I would completely lose my mind, becoming his perfect experimental data. I had to escape. Even if I died, I would die outside these walls.

The next day, Julian entered the room. He looked at the burn on the back of my hand, frowned almost imperceptibly, but quickly, coldness replaced it. “Ember, this is the last time.” His voice even carried a twisted gentleness. “Just get through today, and you can finally be free.” I leaned against the wall, motionless like a broken rag doll, devoid of a soul. Julian didn’t care about my lifeless state. He waved his hand, and two bodyguards walked in, forcibly manhandling me to my feet. I was dragged into a completely sealed chamber. Huge LED screens surrounded me, and the pungent smell of burning permeated the air. “Let me go… Please, Julian, don’t…” I struggled violently, tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t faking it; I was genuinely terrified. That bone-deep fear made it almost impossible to breathe. Julian stood in front of the control panel, his eyes feverish. “Begin.” With his command, the screens around me instantly burst into blazing flames. Heaters hidden in the walls whirred furiously, and the room temperature rapidly rose. “Boom–!” Realistic sound effects exploded in my ears, as if the whole building was burning. “Ah–!!!” I screamed shrilly, clutching my head with both hands, desperately shrinking into a corner. “Help me! Help me! Dad! Mom!” I fell into extreme hallucinations, the firelight before my eyes turning into the sea of fire that had consumed everything that day. Julian’s voice came from above, laced with a trembling excitement: “Yes, exactly! Fear index at its peak! Heart rate over 160!” I rolled on the floor in agony, my nails digging deep into the floor, my fingers bleeding profusely. Extreme fear and the high temperature gradually made me lose consciousness. The second before falling completely into darkness, I looked at the surveillance camera, a chilling curve on my lips. Julian, you want data? I’ll give it to you. But this is the last time you’ll control me.

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Julian Vance tossed a divorce agreement onto my table. His voice was as calm as if he were discussing a business acquisition. His phone screen was still lit, displaying a stranger’s picture. I put down my carving knife and glanced out the window. New York was covered in heavy snow, just like the day he knelt before my kiln to propose. “Why?” I asked. He was silent for three seconds before uttering words I’d remember for the rest of my life: “You shine too brightly. I’m tired. I want a normal life with a normal woman.” I looked down at my hands, covered in sawdust. These very hands had sold my family’s legacy to fund his startup when he had nothing. Now that he was successful, he found me too bright. “Fine.” I picked up the pen and signed the agreement. He froze, seemingly surprised by how readily I agreed. “You… won’t try to keep me?” I smiled, tossing the pen back onto the table. “Julian Vance, trash belongs in the trash can. Why would I want to keep it?” Audrey Quinn POV The deep autumn wind howled against the glass windows of my artisan shop in New York, a mournful cry. I sat in a wicker chair, staring blankly at my phone screen. It was a live photo. The background was that notoriously hard-to-book French restaurant downtown. Julian, wearing the black coat I had personally embroidered, was bending down, tying a scarf around a woman. The woman’s face would disappear instantly in a crowd. She wore an old-fashioned puffer coat, her shoulders hunched. But Julian’s gaze, as he looked at her, held that soul-deep tenderness I once thought was exclusively mine. He even reached out to smooth her wind-tousled hair. Julian was cheating. This man, a titan in New York’s business world, once knelt before my kiln in front of all the media, wiping the dust from my face and declaring me his life. Now, his life had changed hands. At ten that night, the lock on the villa door clicked. Julian walked in, bringing with him the biting cold. He still had that aloof, superior air, impeccably dressed in his suit, radiating power. I didn’t turn on the lights. In the darkness, I tossed my phone onto the marble table. The screen lit up, displaying the scarf-tying photo. “Explain this,” my voice was eerily calm, without a single tremor. Julian paused, his gaze sweeping over the screen. He didn’t flinch, nor did he show any sign of being caught off guard. He slowly took off his coat, hung it on the rack, walked to the sofa, and sat down, crossing his legs. “Chloe,” he uttered the woman’s name, his tone as indifferent as if discussing an unimportant contract. “I’m in love with her.” My heart constricted violently, as if an invisible hand had clamped down hard, making even breathing a painful struggle. “Love?” I forced a laugh, finding it utterly absurd. “Julian Vance, when you were twenty, you got lost in the remote mountains for three days and three nights, searching for a piece of wood I wanted. You came back covered in blood. You grabbed my hand and said you’d only love me for this lifetime. Now you’re telling me you’re in love with a woman whose face you can barely remember?” Julian leaned back against the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose, a deep weariness etched on his brow. “Audrey, I’m tired.” He looked up at me, his gaze full of cold, rational analysis, cruelly heartbreaking. “We’ve been together for seven years. For these seven years, I cherished you like a goddess. When you cut your hand doing wood carvings, I called every doctor in New York to our house. When you were upset because a kiln firing failed, I canceled multi-billion dollar mergers and sat with you in your studio for three days and nights. When you complained about the carving knives on the market, I spent half a year learning blacksmithing and personally forged a set for you.” He enumerated the past, and what I thought were profound declarations of love now became his accusations against me. “You’re an artist. You have your integrity, your pride, your moods. Every day, I had to carefully guess your thoughts, afraid a word might displease you, afraid an action might disrupt your inspiration. But Audrey, I’m also human. I can get exhausted.” Julian’s gaze drifted past me, into the empty space, and his voice held a hint of longing. “Chloe is different. She’s just a regular librarian. She doesn’t understand art, or wood carving, or complex business dealings. But she’ll clumsily warm a glass of milk for me when my stomach acts up. She’ll hand me a warm glass of water when I get home from work. With her, I don’t need to pretend, I don’t need to look up to anyone. I just need to be a regular man. Those have been the most relaxed days I’ve had in seven years.” A glass of milk, a glass of warm water. I felt as if all the blood in my veins had frozen. My talent, which I was so proud of, all the deep affection I’d poured into him, in this man’s eyes, had become a heavy chain. “So, my seven years of youth, all the painstaking effort I poured into my carvings for you, is worth less than a glass of warm water?” My voice trembled, my eyes burning with a painful ache. “You’re excellent, Audrey.” Julian stood up, looking down at me. “But things that shine too brightly can be blinding if you stare at them too long. I won’t divorce you. The position of Mrs. Vance will always be yours. But I won’t let Chloe go either.” He dropped that bombshell, then turned and walked towards the guest room. I sat in the darkness, listening to the guest room door lock, and my tears finally splattered onto the back of my hand. The man who promised to shield me from every storm, had personally unleashed a blizzard on me.

Audrey Quinn POV The next day, I went to that library. I wore a well-tailored trench coat and exquisite makeup. I stood among the rows of bookshelves, watching the woman named Chloe. Chloe was tidying books, moving slowly, wearing thick-rimmed glasses, her hair casually tied back, giving her an air of timidity and awkwardness. I walked over. The clicking of my heels on the floor made Chloe look up. “Ms. Quinn?” Chloe clearly recognized me. Her face instantly turned pale, and the book in her hand dropped to the floor with a thud. I didn’t look at the book, just quietly observed her. Ordinary, too ordinary, so ordinary that it aroused no sense of threat. “Leave him,” I said, my voice even. “Whatever amount of money you want, I’ll give it to you.” Chloe’s eyes immediately reddened, tears streaming down her face. She shook her head frantically like a startled rabbit. “Ms. Quinn, I don’t want money… I know I’m not worthy of Julian, and I don’t want to ruin your marriage. I just… I just love him too much. As long as I can watch him from afar, I’ll be content. Please, don’t make me leave…” She cried pitifully, as if I were some evil villain. I felt nauseous. I was about to speak when my wrist was suddenly grabbed with brute force. I staggered, almost losing my balance. “Audrey Quinn! What are you doing!” Julian had arrived, I didn’t know when. He pulled Chloe protectively behind him, as if she were a rare treasure, then turned to glare at me, his eyes as cold as ice. “I was just having a chat with her.” My wrist throbbed, my bones feeling like they might shatter, but I stubbornly refused to cry out in pain. “A chat? Trying to force her with money, or pressure her with your status as Mrs. Vance?” Julian sneered. “Chloe isn’t one of those snobbish women in your circle; she doesn’t care about money! Do you think everyone is like you, calculating everything perfectly?” I laughed, exasperated. If I were calculating, I wouldn’t have sold my family’s inherited gallery to him to fund his startup when he had nothing. “Julian, don’t blame Ms. Quinn, it’s all my fault…” Chloe tugged on Julian’s sleeve, sobbing uncontrollably. Julian lovingly patted the back of Chloe’s hand, then looked at me again, his eyes filled with nothing but disgust. “Audrey Quinn, I’m warning you, don’t come looking for her again. She’s timid, and she can’t handle your arrogant behavior. If you dare lay a hand on her, don’t blame me for not remembering our past.” With that, he put his arm around Chloe’s shoulders and walked out of the library without a backward glance. I stood rooted to the spot, watching their intertwined figures disappear, my chest feeling like it was being repeatedly sliced by a dull blade, raw and bleeding. That evening, Julian came home. He walked straight up to me and threw a document onto the table. “The transfer deed for that glass studio in the city south. Sign it.” I looked down. It was the glass studio I had spent two years planning, preparing for my solo exhibition. Julian once said he’d make sure all of New York would see my talent there. “Why?” I looked up, my voice dry. “Chloe likes growing succulents. Her rented apartment is too small and doesn’t get any sunlight. That sunroom is just sitting empty; she can use it,” Julian said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “That’s my studio!” I jumped to my feet, my voice finally cracking. “You know I have an exhibition next month!” “The exhibition won’t die if it’s postponed for a few months,” Julian frowned, visibly impatient. “Your wooden and stone pieces can be exhibited anywhere. Chloe isn’t well and needs more sun. Don’t be so selfish.” Selfish. I looked at this man, both familiar and strange. He once argued fiercely with someone over a piece of wood for me. Now, for a few pots of another woman’s succulents, he casually destroyed my painstaking work. I picked up the pen and signed my name on the document, the tip tearing the paper slightly. “Take it.” I threw the document at him, then turned away, unwilling to look at him any longer.

Audrey Quinn POV With the glass studio taken, my exhibition had to be hastily relocated to my cramped artisan shop. The opening day arrived with a torrential downpour in New York. Julian had promised to attend. He’d said that no matter what, he would never miss any important moment in my life. I stood in a thin evening gown at the shop entrance, watching cars come and go through the rainy curtain. The cold wind, mixed with rain, chilled me to the bone. Time ticked by, and guests began to whisper. Their murmurs pierced my ears like needles. I pulled out my phone and called Julian. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. “Hello?” Julian’s voice was muffled by rain and background noise. “Where are you? The exhibition is about to start,” I tried to keep my voice steady. There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Chloe’s terrified cry: “Julian, I’m scared… The thunder is so loud…” Julian’s voice immediately softened. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” Then, he spoke into the phone. “Audrey, I can’t make it. The old apartment complex Chloe lives in has a power outage, and rainwater is pouring into her house. She’s alone and scared. You handle your exhibition yourself.” “Julian Vance,” I gripped my phone tightly, my knuckles white. “This is the exhibition I’ve been preparing for three years. You promised me.” “It’s just an exhibition. You can do another one next year,” Julian’s tone was impatient. “Chloe only has me right now. Be mature, don’t throw a tantrum at a time like this.” Beep— The call ended. I listened to the dial tone, slowly lowering my arm. I turned to face the scrutinizing gazes, forcing a polite smile, and courteously greeted the guests. That night, I stayed late at the shop. I looked at the pieces on display, into which I had poured countless hours. In the most prominent spot was a wood carving titled “Togetherness.” I had carved it in Julian’s likeness, every line etched with my love. The door pushed open, and Julian walked in, smelling of rain. He glanced at the empty shop, then walked up to me. “Are you mad?” he asked casually, as if he’d only missed an unimportant movie. I didn’t speak. Julian walked to the display stand, his gaze falling on “Togetherness.” He reached out and touched the edge of the wood carving. “Chloe was terrified today. I spent a long time calming her down,” he explained, almost boasting about being needed. “She saw my clothes were wet and insisted on making me cream of mushroom soup, but she burned her hand. She’s so clumsy, but it’s an endearing clumsiness.” I looked at Julian, feeling a churning sickness in my stomach. “Did you come here just to tell me that?” Julian withdrew his hand, pulled a velvet box from his pocket, and handed it to me. “Compensation for you. A limited-edition diamond necklace.” I stared at the box and suddenly laughed. Tears welled up in my eyes. Before, if I even glanced at a certain raw stone, he would find a way to get it, then personally polish it into a unique piece of jewelry for me. Now, he was using a mass-produced item, something money could buy, to placate me after three years of dedication. “No thanks,” I turned my face away. “I find it dirty.” Julian’s face darkened. He slammed the box onto the table. “Audrey Quinn, don’t throw a tantrum. I’ve already apologized, what more do you want?” He snorted, then turned and left. I watched his retreating back, picked up the “Togetherness” wood carving from the table, and smashed it fiercely onto the marble floor. Wood splinters flew, and the sculpture broke into two pieces. Just like our seven years of relationship, shattered beyond repair.

Audrey Quinn POV Julian started to escalate. He no longer hid Chloe’s presence, even brazenly bringing her into our shared villa. “Her apartment is still under renovation, so she’ll stay in the guest room for now,” Julian announced, then instructed the staff to prepare Chloe’s room. I sat on the sofa, watching Chloe, who stood awkwardly in the center of the living room with a worn canvas bag, like Cinderella mistakenly entering a palace. In the days that followed, this house, once filled with my essence, was slowly encroached upon by Chloe. She would fry eggs in the kitchen in the morning, wearing Julian’s oversized shirt. In the evening, she’d sit on the living room rug, reading him boring novels. She even casually left her cheap plastic hair clips on my expensive vanity table. Julian indulged all of it. The way he looked at Chloe increasingly resembled a father doting on a daughter who needed complete protection. Until that afternoon. I returned from my shop and, just as I reached the door, heard a crisp shattering sound from the living room. I hurried inside, to see Chloe sitting on the floor, flustered, surrounded by porcelain shards. It was the first ceramic cup I had ever fired myself. To achieve that unique color I loved most, I had failed hundreds of times, burning countless blisters on my hands. The day I succeeded, Julian had hugged me and spun me around three times, saying that cup was our family heirloom. Now, the heirloom was shattered to dust. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…” Chloe cried as she tried to pick up the pieces, cutting her finger, which started to bleed. Julian rushed out of his study, pushed me aside, and knelt down to suck Chloe’s bleeding finger, his face filled with urgent worry. “How could you be so careless? Does it hurt?” Chloe leaned into his embrace, crying even harder. “Julian, I broke Ms. Quinn’s cup, she’s going to be so angry…” Julian turned, his gaze cold as he looked at me. “It’s just a broken cup. So what if it’s broken? Why are you putting on such a displeased face for everyone to see?” I looked at the shards on the floor, my heart aching to the point of spasm. “A broken cup?” My voice was hoarse. “Julian Vance, have you forgotten how that cup came to be?” “All I see is Chloe’s hand bleeding!” Julian harshly interrupted me. “Audrey Quinn, when did you become so heartless? No matter how precious an item is, can it be more important than a person’s well-being?” He picked up Chloe and strode towards the first-aid kit. I stood rooted, looking at the mess on the floor. I knelt down, picking up the pieces one by one. The sharp porcelain cut my palm, and blood dripped onto the glazed surface of the shards, a stark sight. But Julian never even looked back. A few days later, I saw a familiar wooden hair clip in Chloe’s hair. It was a gift I had carved for Julian’s birthday last year, using the finest wood, working three sleepless nights, carving every stroke with care. It bore the initials of our names. “That hair clip…” I stared at Chloe’s hair. Chloe touched the clip in her hair, giving a shy smile. “Pretty, isn’t it? Julian said it was just sitting idle in a drawer, and I thought the wood was nice, so I used it to decorate my hair.” I spun to look at Julian. Julian was drinking coffee. Catching my gaze, he frowned slightly. “What is it? It’s just a wooden hair clip. Chloe liked it, so I gave it to her. If you want one, I’ll have someone buy you a whole bunch of better ones.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I finally understood: Julian hadn’t forgotten the past. He simply didn’t care anymore.

Audrey Quinn POV New York’s annual charity gala, a gathering of the elite. Julian Vance, as a rising star in the business world, was naturally among the invited. As Mrs. Vance, I was expected to attend on his arm. In the car, the atmosphere was icy. Julian kept his head down, replying to messages, a faint smile playing on his lips. I didn’t need to guess; it was Chloe. Upon arriving at the ballroom, Julian perfunctorily offered me his arm as we walked the red carpet, facing the media’s flashing lights. As soon as we entered, Julian withdrew his arm. “Go mingle, I need to see some clients,” he said, then walked into the crowd without a backward glance. I stood alone in a corner, holding a glass of champagne. I was accustomed to the hypocrisy of these events, and to using indifference to mask my inner turmoil. Half an hour later, a commotion erupted at the ballroom entrance. I turned to look. Chloe had burst in, like a headless chicken, wearing a clearly ill-fitting, cheap evening gown. She seemed to be delivering some documents, but the security guard at the door stopped her, and she looked on the verge of tears. The surrounding guests cast glances of disdain and amusement. “Where did this beggar come from? Did she get lost?” “To wear something like that to an event like this, how embarrassing.” The whispers were just loud enough to reach Chloe’s ears. Her face flushed, and she clutched the document bag tightly. Just then, Julian pushed through the crowd and strode towards her. He pulled Chloe into his embrace, his sharp gaze sweeping over the onlookers, his voice chillingly cold: “She’s with me. Any objections?” The entire room fell silent. Everyone’s eyes began to dart between Julian, Chloe, and me in the corner. Their looks held pity, and ridicule. Julian took off his own suit jacket, draped it over Chloe’s trembling shoulders, and whispered comforting words. Then, he took Chloe’s hand and, to the bewildered stares of the crowd, walked straight to the center of the ballroom. He had completely forgotten that his legal wife was still standing there. A socialite walked up to me, covering her mouth with a soft laugh. “Mrs. Vance, it seems your position isn’t very stable. Mr. Vance’s protective gesture, one might mistake her for his wife.” My knuckles, gripping the stem of my champagne glass, turned white. I watched Julian, who for Chloe, didn’t hesitate to offend everyone present, didn’t hesitate to trample my dignity as his wife. Suddenly, I felt utterly indifferent. I couldn’t play this charade called marriage anymore. I set down my glass and turned towards the exit. Outside, it had started snowing. New York’s first snow, biting cold. I walked down the icy street in my thin gown and ten-centimeter heels. Julian didn’t follow. He was too busy comforting his startled little rabbit in the warm ballroom. My ankle was chafed raw, blood seeping out, staining my heel. Yet, I felt no pain, walking step by painful step. Snowflakes landed on my hair and shoulders, melting into cold water. I remembered the first snow five years ago. Julian had wrapped me in his coat and carried me down an entire street, just because I said my feet hurt. Now, on the same street, in the same snow, the man who once carried me gave all his warmth to someone else.

Audrey Quinn POV I fell ill. That long walk in the snowstorm gave me a high fever. For two whole days, I lay in the master bedroom, drifting in and out of consciousness. In the vast villa, only the staff would regularly bring me warm water and fever reducers. Julian never appeared. On the evening of the third day, my fever subsided a bit. I was terribly thirsty, my throat aching as if I’d swallowed razor blades. I struggled to get up, leaning on the wall, shuffling downstairs step by painful step. The kitchen smelled delicious. Julian, in casual loungewear, stood at the counter, clumsily slicing tomatoes. Chloe hugged him from behind, her cheek pressed against his back, giggling. “Julian, you’re slicing them too thick, the pasta will be overcooked.” “That’s only because you keep messing around,” Julian said, his tone doting, as he reached back to pinch Chloe’s nose. I stood in the shadows of the dining room, watching this heartwarming, yet blinding, scene. I remembered Julian used to be a man who never set foot in the kitchen. Once, when I had a stomachache and wanted cream of mushroom soup, he made a huge mess in the kitchen, and I ended up ordering takeout. Now, he was willing to cook for Chloe. My fingers, gripping the doorframe, trembled slightly. I coughed. The laughter from the kitchen abruptly stopped. Julian turned, saw my pale, haggard face, and his brows immediately furrowed. “What are you doing down here? Don’t you know you’re sick? What if you infect Chloe?” His first reaction was to blame me for potentially threatening Chloe’s health. My chapped lips stretched into a faint, miserable smile. “I just wanted a glass of water,” my voice was incredibly hoarse. Julian glanced at the kettle on the counter, but didn’t move an inch. “The kettle’s right there. Don’t you have hands?” he said coldly. Chloe peeked out, timidly saying, “Julian, Ms. Quinn is sick. I’ll get her some water.” “You don’t need to bother,” Julian pulled Chloe back. “She’s just overly delicate, making a fuss over a small illness.” I listened quietly. I dragged my heavy feet to the counter, picked up the kettle, and poured myself a glass of warm water. My wrist was weak and limp, and half the water spilled out, scalding the back of my hand. As if numb, I picked up the cup and drank the water sip by sip. Then, I turned and looked at Julian. “Julian Vance,” I said calmly, looking at him. “Do you remember what you did last time I had a fever?” Julian paused, seemingly trying to recall. I answered for him. “You didn’t close your eyes for three days and nights, blowing on the medicine to cool it before feeding it to me. You said if anything happened to me, you wouldn’t live either.” Julian’s face changed, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “That was all in the past. Why bring it up? People change.” “Yes, people change,” I nodded, my gaze sweeping over Chloe behind him. “Your love truly is cheap and disgusting.” “Audrey Quinn!” Julian was enraged, slamming the knife in his hand onto the cutting board. “What are you going crazy about!” I couldn’t be bothered with him anymore. I turned and walked upstairs, my back straight. In that moment, I distinctly heard the city named “Julian Vance” in my heart, crumble into ruins.

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After I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer, I didn’t tell Ethan. I let him shove me into the mud in front of the tombstone, forcing me to my knees to confess. “Stella, your life belongs to Chloe now.” The heavy rain lashed down, cold to the bone, but it was nothing compared to the icy hatred in his eyes. I wanted to say that it was Chloe, his sister, who had fought to push me into the ventilation shaft that day. But I opened my mouth, only to swallow a mouthful of blood. Three years. He wouldn’t believe me. “Speak!” Ethan gripped my chin, his eyes bloodshot. “Tell Chloe how you locked her in that burning building!” I looked at his face, contorted with hatred, and suddenly laughed. “Ethan, if I told you I was dying, would you finally stop hating me?” The cramping in my stomach seized me again. I coughed up a mouthful of blood, splashing onto his polished dress shoes. He froze. And I, finally collapsed at his feet. Stella POV “Ms. Davis, the test results are in. Late-stage stomach cancer, with peritoneal metastasis…” The doctor adjusted his glasses, his tone heavy. “Given your current physical condition, surgery won’t do much good. With conservative treatment, you probably have about three months.” I sat in the chair, staring at the thin diagnostic report, my eyes blank for a moment. “Three months, huh…” I murmured, no tears in my dry eyes. Instead, a faint smile touched my lips. “That’s good.” It was enough. Three months was enough time for me to pay back every debt I owed Ethan. Stepping out of the hospital, a cold autumn rain was falling. I didn’t open my umbrella, letting the icy water hit me. The biting chill seeped into every pore, but it couldn’t compare to the agonizing pain in my stomach, like a thousand ants gnawing at me. I forced myself to suppress the spasms and took a cab back to the mansion on Long Island. Pushing open the heavy, carved front door, the living room lights were off. In the dimness, a red cigarette tip glowed erratically on the sofa. I was drenched, raindrops trailing down my pale cheeks and splashing onto the floor. I changed my shoes, and just as I was about to head upstairs, his deep, cold voice cut through the darkness. “Come here.” I paused, then turned and slowly walked towards the sofa. Billionaire Ethan Smith sat in the shadows, his long legs crossed. His intense eyes were hidden behind wisps of smoke, exuding a frightening pressure. He casually slammed a thick stack of documents onto the coffee table with a sharp thwack, a jarring sound in the dead silence of the living room. “Look at these,” he said simply, directly, his voice devoid of warmth. I bent down, my hands trembling as I picked up the documents. In the faint glow of the streetlights outside the window, I made out the title on the cover—Chloe Smith Memorial Hall Design Proposal. My heart clenched, my fingertips instantly turning to ice. Chloe. Chloe Smith. Ethan’s most beloved sister, and my once best friend. Three years ago, Chloe and I were kidnapped and held in an abandoned underground theater in the New York suburbs. The kidnappers, in a fit of rage, set the place on fire. The flames spread rapidly, thick smoke billowing everywhere. There was only one disused ventilation shaft we could crawl through, but it was too narrow for more than one person. Chloe pressed the only wet towel over my mouth and, with all her strength, shoved me into the shaft. She herself was hit by a falling wooden beam, trapped forever in that inferno. By the time I returned with the rescue team, the theater was a pile of ashes. But the evidence left behind, and a recording deliberately fabricated by the kidnappers, all pointed to one “fact”—that I had selfishly snatched the wet towel, locked Chloe in the fire, and escaped alone to save my own life. Ethan believed it. From that day on, the man who had doted on me ceased to exist. In his place was a devil, crawled from hell, vowing to torment me to death. “You’re building a memorial hall?” My voice was terribly hoarse, like sandpaper scraping across a table. “You’re a top architect. Chloe loved your work when she was alive.” Ethan leaned forward, gripping my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his cold, dark eyes. “You will design this memorial hall.” I was forced to tilt my head back, my chin aching. “Okay, I’ll do it.” “Don’t agree so fast.” Ethan sneered, a cruel glint in his eyes. “I want you to completely recreate that underground theater. The temperature, the smoke, the sense of despair when Chloe was burned to death—I want you to reproduce every detail exactly!” My pupils constricted, my blood seeming to freeze instantly. Recreate that inferno? That was the terrifying scene I dreamt about every single night for the past three years!

Stella POV “What’s wrong? Scared?” Ethan watched my pale face, the curve of his lips growing more mocking. “You weren’t scared when you crawled out over her corpse, were you? Stella, your life is Chloe’s. Am I asking too much by having you draw a few blueprints?” “I’m not asking too much,” I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. I stared directly into Ethan’s eyes, speaking each word slowly. “I’ll draw them.” Ethan violently shoved me away, then took out a handkerchief with a look of disgust, wiping his hands as if he’d touched something filthy. “Move to the basement tomorrow. You’ll work there until the memorial hall is built.” He stood up, looking down at me. “Don’t even think about playing tricks. Your father’s medical bills are still in my hands.” I slumped onto the carpet, the sharp pain in my stomach returning. I clutched my abdomen, a cold sweat instantly soaking my back. “I understand,” I whispered, my voice so soft it could be carried away by a breeze. Ethan watched my quiet suffering, an unidentifiable rage seeming to surge within him. He scoffed and strode out of the mansion. The heavy door slammed shut. I finally couldn’t hold myself together, collapsing onto the carpet, shaking all over with pain. I hadn’t told Ethan that my father had passed away in the hospital half a month ago. Now, I was truly alone. The next morning, bodyguards forcibly took me to the mansion’s basement. The moment the door opened, my breath hitched. This was no office. Ethan had ordered the entire basement to be transformed into a replica of that abandoned theater. Charred walls, scattered rebar, and even the air was thick with a pungent smell of burning. In the center of the room, there was a crude drafting table. “Mr. Smith instructed that to inspire your creativity, the environmental simulation system will be activated during work hours every day,” the bodyguard said expressionlessly before stepping out. The heavy iron door clanged shut, locking me in. The next second, red lights flickered on around the basement, like leaping flames. Hidden heaters in the corners began to churn furiously, the room temperature visibly rising. Then, gray-white smoke started pouring in from the vents. I froze, the memories of three years ago washing over me like a tsunami. “Stella, go! Don’t worry about me!” “Live! Live for me, see the world outside!” Chloe’s desperate, tragic cries echoed in my ears. “Chloe…” I covered my ears, shaking uncontrollably. The temperature climbed higher, the smoke grew thicker. My breathing became labored. I stumbled to the drafting table, forcing myself to pick up a pencil. I had to draw. Only then would Ethan let me go. But the tumor in my stomach chose that moment to act up. The excruciating pain, as if my insides were being twisted to shreds, made it impossible to hold the pencil. With a clatter, it dropped to the floor. My legs gave out, and I fell hard onto the concrete. “Cough, cough, cough…” I coughed violently, the inhaled smoke burning my lungs. I wondered if Ethan was currently sitting in front of a monitor, staring intently at my huddled form. Perhaps he was smoking, gritting his teeth, wishing I would beg for mercy. He surely thought that if I just bowed my head to the camera, begged for his forgiveness, admitted I had killed Chloe, he would let me out. But I didn’t. I writhed on the floor in pain, cold sweat and dust smearing my face, but I bit down hard, not making a single sound of distress. I even struggled to my feet, fumbled for the pencil again, and hunched over the table, beginning to draw lines, one stroke at a time. “Bang!” The iron door to the basement was suddenly kicked open. A wave of heat and thick smoke rushed in. Ethan stormed inside, grabbed my collar, and lifted me from the chair. “Are you mute?! Don’t you know how to scream when you’re in pain?!” His eyes were bloodshot as he roared at me.

Stella POV I was forced to look up, my pale face covered in cold sweat, a trickle of blood even escaping my lip. I looked at Ethan’s furious face, and a very weak smile suddenly touched my lips. “Ethan, this heat… it’s not even a fraction of what Chloe endured,” my voice was hoarse, every word laced with the taste of blood. “I deserve this.” Ethan’s whole body stiffened. He stared at my lifeless eyes, an unprecedented panic seemingly welling up inside him. I didn’t resist, didn’t explain. I was like a rapidly decaying husk, ready to scatter with the wind at any moment. “You think I’ll go soft if you pretend to be half-dead?” Ethan gritted his teeth, then violently shoved me to the floor. “Stella, you can never repay what you owe Chloe in this lifetime! Keep drawing! If you don’t finish, you won’t eat today!” With that, he turned and strode away, his retreating figure carrying a hint of desperation. The iron door slammed shut again. I lay on the floor, staring at the pool of blood I had just coughed up, my eyes terrifyingly calm. I roughly wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with my sleeve and crawled back to the table. Soon. Just a little longer, and it would all be over. … The torment in the basement continued for a full week. I was halfway through the blueprints, and my body had already wasted away. My once-fitting clothes now hung loosely on me, as if a gust of wind could blow me over. That evening, the iron door suddenly opened. Ethan walked in, tossing a delicate gift box at me. “Change, you’re coming with me.” I didn’t ask where. I mechanically opened the box; inside was a black evening gown. Half an hour later, I followed Ethan into a Maybach. The car finally stopped in front of New York’s most luxurious private club. A high-profile charity gala was being held there tonight, attended by prominent figures. Ethan didn’t wait for me; he got out directly. I took a deep breath, suppressing the severe pain in my stomach, and followed him in my high heels. The moment I entered the banquet hall, the noisy venue instantly fell silent. Countless eyes fell on me, filled with undisguised contempt, dislike, and mocking curiosity. In this circle, who didn’t know I was a wicked woman who had killed her friend to save her own life? Who didn’t know I was now just a pathetic plaything by Ethan’s side? “How does she even have the nerve to show her face?” “Ethan’s ruthless, bringing his enemy along to torment her daily. If it were me, I’d have killed her ages ago.” “I heard she’s designing Chloe’s memorial hall. Tsk, tsk, the killer building a memorial hall—how ironic.” The hushed whispers were like poisoned needles, pricking my ears. I lowered my head, my hands clutching my dress, my nails almost digging into my flesh. Ethan stood not far away, a glass of red wine in hand, watching with cold eyes. He had brought me here precisely to endure this. It was my deserved punishment. Just then, a young man in a floral shirt walked over, holding a cup. It was Caleb Montgomery, a rich heir from the wealthy Montgomery family. He had once fiercely pursued Chloe. “Well, well, if it isn’t Stella, the great designer?” Caleb scrutinized me, his eyes cold. “So, you killed Chloe. Don’t you have nightmares when you sleep?” I didn’t speak, just took a step back. “Why are you hiding?” Caleb sneered, then suddenly flung the piping hot coffee in his hand directly at my right hand! “Ah!” I wasn’t prepared. The scalding coffee instantly reddened the back of my hand, and the piercing pain made me cry out. My right hand was my drawing hand! “Oops, so sorry, my hand slipped.” Caleb offered a insincere smile, then his eyes turned vicious. “But that hand, stained with Chloe’s blood, deserves to be crippled anyway!” With that, he actually raised his foot and stomped hard on my scalded right hand!

Stella POV I cried out in pain and stumbled to the floor, unable to dodge in time. Just as Caleb’s dress shoe was about to land on the back of my hand, a large hand violently grabbed Caleb’s collar, sending him flying! “Bang!” Caleb crashed heavily into the champagne tower, sending glass shattering everywhere. The entire hall fell silent. Ethan stood in front of me, radiating terrifying rage. He looked down at Caleb on the floor, his voice as cold as an icy blade. “Who the hell do you think you are, laying a hand on what’s mine?” Caleb scrambled to his feet, gritting his teeth. “Ethan! She killed Chloe! I’m avenging Chloe!” “Avenging?” Ethan sneered, taking slow steps towards Caleb. “She owes Chloe a life, and only I can collect that debt. When did it become your place to discipline what’s mine?” He turned, casting a cold glance at me, still sprawled on the floor. “Aren’t you getting up? Are you trying to make an even bigger spectacle of yourself?” I bit down hard on my lip, enduring the burning pain on the back of my hand, and slowly pushed myself up against the wall. I kept my head down, looking at my swollen, blistered right hand, a flicker of despair in my eyes. Ethan protected me, not out of concern. It was only because I was his personal torment. No one else was even qualified to inflict pain on me. “Let’s go.” Ethan grabbed my uninjured left wrist and strode out. I stumbled after him, the cramping in my stomach reaching its peak. Just as we stepped out of the banquet hall doors, my vision blurred, and I collapsed forward. I was roused by a violent shaking. Opening my eyes, I found myself back in the living room of the Long Island mansion. Ethan was gripping my shoulders, his face terrifyingly grim. “How many more times will you play the fainting game?” Ethan let go abruptly when he saw I was awake, tossing me onto the sofa. I didn’t argue. I was in too much pain. My stomach felt like countless knives were twisting inside. Cold sweat soaked my clothes. I curled up on the sofa, pressing both hands against my abdomen, my breathing rapid and shallow. “My… my bag…” I choked out a few words, my eyes searching for my purse, which had been tossed onto the coffee table. It held the powerful painkillers the doctor had prescribed. Without them, I would die of pain tonight. I struggled to reach out, trying to grab the bag. But Ethan moved faster, picking it up. “Looking for something?” He looked at me coldly, then directly emptied the contents of the bag onto the coffee table. Lipstick, tissues, keys, and a plain white plastic bottle with no label. My pupils constricted. I lunged forward, trying to snatch the bottle. “Give it back!” Ethan deftly evaded me, holding the bottle high. He watched my panicked, almost frantic expression, his brows furrowing. “What is this?” He twisted open the cap and shook out a few white pills. “They’re… they’re sleeping pills,” I bit down hard, lying. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately…” I couldn’t let him know I had stomach cancer. If he found out, he would surely think I was using my illness to gain sympathy. He might even stop my medication, leaving me to die in agony while fully conscious. “Sleeping pills?” Ethan sneered, his eyes instantly turning cruel. “Stella, you killed Chloe, and you still expect to get a good night’s sleep? Dream on!” He took the pill bottle, strode into the bathroom, and in front of me, emptied the entire bottle of life-saving painkillers down the toilet. “Whoosh—” The flush sounded, and the white pills instantly vanished in the swirling water. “No!” I screamed in despair. I rushed to the toilet, trying to reach in, but found nothing. That was the last bottle of medicine!

Stella POV “Want to sleep? Want to escape?” Ethan grabbed my hair, dragging me back to the living room and roughly shoving me in front of the coffee table. “Tonight, you’ll stay here and finish Chloe’s memorial hall blueprints! If they’re not done, you’re not going anywhere!” He threw a stack of blank blueprints and pencils in front of me. I slumped to the floor, the intense stomach pain engulfing me like a tsunami. I was shaking all over, my breathing heavy and tasting of blood. “My… my hand is burned…” I lifted my swollen, blistered right hand, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “I can’t hold the pencil…” “Hold it even if you can’t!” Ethan didn’t even glance at my hand, his voice devoid of warmth. “Stella, don’t make me use uglier methods.” I looked at the cold, ruthless man before me, the light in my eyes dimming bit by bit. I stopped speaking and silently picked up the pencil. The moment I exerted force with my right hand, the scalded blisters burst. A sharp, piercing pain made me gasp. I bit down hard, gripping the pencil tightly, and hunched over the coffee table, beginning to draw. Large drops of cold sweat splattered onto the blueprints, smearing the pencil lines. The cramping in my stomach made me pause for a long time to catch my breath after every stroke. Ethan sat on the sofa, watching me with cold eyes. He watched my trembling shoulders, my pale face, the blood from my right hand staining the white blueprints. He seemed to think it was all my fault, that having killed Chloe, this suffering was nothing. I could even feel his growing irritation. The entire night. I finished the last blueprint in this extreme agony. When the first ray of morning sun streamed into the living room, I finally put down the pencil. “It’s done,” I whispered weakly, collapsing onto the carpet like a broken rag doll. Ethan walked over, picked up the stack of blueprints stained with blood and sweat, and quickly glanced at them. They were perfectly drawn. A perfect recreation of that desperate underground theater. He looked at me, lying there half-dead, and seemed to grow even more irritated. “Get up,” he nudged my leg. “Today is Chloe’s death anniversary.” I closed my eyes, unmoving. I no longer had the strength to even open them. “I told you to get up!” Ethan bent down, roughly hauling me off the floor. “You’re coming with me.” The mountain road was winding, with many sharp turns. This was the most dangerous road on the outskirts of New York, with steep cliffs on one side and a bottomless abyss on the other. Ethan parked the black sports car at the starting point. He shoved me into the driver’s seat and got into the passenger seat himself. “Chloe was in that fire, watching the flames consume her little by little. You can’t imagine that fear of waiting for death,” Ethan turned his head, looking at my paper-pale face, a twisted, cruel smile playing on his lips. “Today, I’m going to let you experience what it’s like to be one step away from death.” He pointed at the winding, unguarded cliff road ahead. “Hit the gas. Don’t go below seventy miles per hour. Drive to the summit.” My hands on the steering wheel were shaking violently. The stomach pain had clouded my mind, and my vision was blurring. In this state, driving seventy miles per hour along a cliff edge was suicide. “Ethan…” I turned to look at him. “We’ll die.” “Scared?” Ethan’s eyes were full of mockery and the thrill of revenge. “Good. Chloe was a thousand, a million times more terrified than you are now!” “Drive!” he roared.

Stella POV I looked into his hateful eyes and suddenly grew quiet. I turned my head, staring at the bottomless cliff ahead. Die? Actually, I should have died long ago. If it had been me who died in that fire three years ago, wouldn’t I have been spared these three years of excruciating pain? Wouldn’t Ethan have turned into this monster? Anyway, I only had three months left. Might as well be today. A faint, relieved smile suddenly played on my lips. I no longer hesitated, and floored the gas pedal! “Vroom—!” The sports car roared like a beast, shooting forward like an arrow! The needle on the speedometer climbed frantically. Sixty, seventy, ninety, one hundred and ten! The car sped wildly along the narrow mountain road, tires screeching against the pavement. With every turn, the wheels almost scraped the edge of the cliff; one wrong move and we’d plummet. Ethan had originally just wanted to scare me, to see me cry and beg for mercy. But he saw no fear on my face. I stared intently ahead, my eyes hollow and resolute. My foot on the gas didn’t ease up; instead, I pressed down even harder! Ahead was a sharp, almost ninety-degree turn, beyond which lay a sheer drop into the abyss! “Slow down!” Ethan yelled, a hint of fear in his voice. I ignored him. The speed was already nearing one hundred and twenty! “Stella! I said hit the brakes!” Ethan finally panicked. He lunged, trying to grab the steering wheel. But it was too fast. The car had already reached the edge of the curve, half of it suspended in the air by the sheer force! “Go to hell, Ethan.” I whispered, closing my eyes. Just as the car was about to plunge off the cliff, in that incredibly dangerous moment, Ethan exploded with astonishing strength. He violently wrenched the steering wheel to the left, simultaneously stomping hard on my foot on the gas, forcefully slamming on the brakes! “Bang—!” The sports car spun violently in place, its rear end smashing into the mountain wall with a deafening crash. The airbags instantly deployed. The car cabin filled with the pungent smell of burning rubber and white smoke. Silence. A deathly silence. Ethan gasped for air, veins bulging on his forehead, cold sweat soaking his shirt. His hands were still trembling violently. He must have thought I was insane, that I really wanted to take him with me to die. He violently turned, tore away the airbag, and gripped my neck, his eyes so red they seemed to drip blood. “Stella! Are you out of your mind?! You want to die?!” I gasped for air under his grip, a sickly flush appearing on my pale face. I didn’t struggle, just quietly looked at him. My once bright eyes now held only a dead ash. “Yes,” I struggled to manage a twisted smile, my voice broken. “I haven’t wanted to live for a long time. Ethan, you wanted my life, didn’t you? I gave it to you, so why did you stop me?” Ethan stared at my lifeless expression, his heart feeling as if it had been cruelly ripped open, stopping his breath with pain. He abruptly let go, looking at me as if I were a monster. “You want to die?” He gritted his teeth, his voice tinged with a fear he didn’t even realize. “You haven’t repaid what you owe Chloe. You have no right to die! Without my permission, you don’t even have the right to die!” I leaned back against the seat, and suddenly began to laugh softly. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. “Ethan, you can’t keep me.” I looked at the cliff outside the window, my voice as light as a sigh. “I’m just so tired.”

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In my past life, my mom caused my CEO dad’s car accident and death. My maternal grandparents went bankrupt and committed suicide, and my Uncle Kyle was framed and sent to prison. Reborn, they all returned to get revenge on my mom. Dad stared at Mom’s slightly rounded belly, his eyes dark. “Chloe, are you trying to trick me with a fake pregnancy again? This life, I’ll never believe you!” The next second, he unexpectedly heard my inner voice. [Fake pregnancy? Does Daddy think I don’t exist? I’m here! Daddy, you’re so handsome, you look super strong, you can definitely protect Mommy and me!] My CEO dad froze, startled. Kyle sneered from the side. “Chloe deliberately claims pregnancy to gain our pity, then she’ll start plotting to harm us. Hmph, this time, I’ll make her life a living hell!” Mom looked at them, confused, while I kicked my feet around inside her belly. [Uncle, my Mommy isn’t lying, okay? When I’m born, Uncle will lift me up high and spin me around!] Everyone stared at Mom’s slightly bulging belly, suddenly falling silent. Didn’t Vivian say Chloe was faking her pregnancy? So, who was this little one having a concert in there?

Under the cold hospital lights, the entire family’s gazes were glued to Mom’s slightly rounded belly. I shyly curled up, rolling halfway in the warm womb. [Oh no! So many people are staring at baby! I’m shy!] Dad and Kyle’s bodies subtly jolted at the same time. Grandpa Richard and Grandma Eleanor also exchanged surprised glances. They had all clearly heard that sweet, baby-like complaint. Vivian, oblivious, only found their sudden, more eerie silence strange. The dagger in Dad’s hand clattered to the floor. He stared intensely at Mom’s belly, his expression shifting from dark to utterly bewildered and uncertain. Mom looked up at him, asking confusedly. “What fake pregnancy? Honey, are you too excited to be a dad?” “And Mom, Dad, Kyle… why do you all look so upset? Aren’t you happy I’m pregnant?” No one present paid attention to Mom’s confusion. Their eyes were filled with deep resentment. “Doctor!” Dad suddenly yelled towards the door. “Arrange a full prenatal check-up for her immediately!” Vivian, the fake sister, quickly grabbed Dad’s sleeve, her voice laced with urgency. “Ethan, in the past life, didn’t you personally see her ‘big belly’ was just a pillow? And the private doctor I hired explicitly said she wasn’t pregnant. Why check again?” Hearing that, my tiny foot lightly kicked the uterine wall. [That bad woman is lying again! In the past life, Mommy *was* pregnant with me, but a bad person pushed her down the stairs, and she lost her baby. That’s why she held a pillow every day and sang lullabies.] [I could only become a little ghost, wiping away Mommy’s tears.] [My little hands ached from struggling for countless days! to finally get this chance to be reborn and come back to Mommy’s tummy.] Thinking this, my nose stung, and I couldn’t help but rub my cheek gently against the uterine wall, like a tiny kitten. [Mommy, don’t be scared. This time, I’ll definitely protect you. I’m excited to see this world, excited to see Daddy and Mommy.] “Shut up, everyone shut up!” Dad suddenly covered his ears, his pupils constricting violently as he stared at Mom’s abdomen. “Doctor! Immediately, now, a prenatal check-up!” A flicker of panic crossed Vivian’s eyes. Kyle couldn’t help but frown either. During the examination, when the cool ultrasound gel touched Mom’s belly, I wiggled curiously. [Wow! The chilly gel feels like Jell-O! Is the doctor looking for me with that probe? I’m here, I’m here! Let Daddy see me!] Dad unconsciously held his breath, staring intently at the screen. Kyle instinctively took a half-step forward, and Grandpa Richard and Grandma Eleanor clenched their hands tightly. The ultrasound machine suddenly emitted a strong, rhythmic thumping sound. A tiny, bean-like outline appeared on the screen, actively kicking its little legs. “14 weeks gestation, fetal heartbeat is strong and normal,” the doctor said, pushing up his glasses. “Ms. Chloe is indeed pregnant, and the baby is very healthy and active.”

The color drained from Vivian’s face completely, and she quickly spoke. “Impossible! In the past life, you all saw it! She accused me of pushing her down the stairs, and after her ‘miscarriage,’ it was a pillow that fell out! Ethan, you saw it with your own eyes, how could she really be pregnant?” The whole family was stunned, but what echoed in their minds was my earlier thought: [was pushed down the stairs by a bad person, and lost her baby]. Especially Dad. Listening to my cheerful inner voice and seeing the indeed existing tiny bean on the screen, his expression was incredibly complex. Vivian saw their expressions soften. She immediately put on that pitiful look, speaking softly and weakly. “Maybe we truly misunderstood Chloe in the past life. Perhaps she was really pregnant but miscarried accidentally, then had a breakdown and mistook the pillow for her baby.” “It’s just… I can’t understand how someone intellectually impaired and mentally unstable could be so cunning, capable of plotting against us and causing our deaths.” Hearing this, Kyle immediately scoffed, his eyes filled with vigilance and hatred. “So what if she’s not faking her pregnancy?” “It’s an undeniable fact that Chloe ruined our family in the past life!” “And what kind of good could come from that vicious woman’s belly? Probably just a little monster, here to make our lives hell!” [Wah! Uncle’s mean! How can he call me a monster? I’m here to bring good fortune!] I pouted aggrievedly, turning over unhappily in Mom’s tummy. Kyle choked on his words at this sudden protest, and went silent. Mom seemed to sense something, gently stroking her belly. She looked at her family even more confusedly. “You’re all so strange. Pregnancy, and you’re talking about past lives?” No one had the mind to explain the past life to a beautiful, simple-minded woman with low intelligence. Vivian’s eyes turned cold, but when she looked at Kyle, Richard, and Eleanor, her voice became sugary sweet. “Kyle, how can you speak of Chloe and her unborn child like that? Chloe doesn’t know anything right now, and her intelligence is low. Perhaps the maliciousness from the past life…” “Enough!” Dad abruptly cut her off, his voice sharp. He rubbed his temples, his mind filled with my thoughts of “becoming a little ghost to wipe Mommy’s tears” and “struggled for countless days.” A strange pang twisted in his chest. “Even if she was bad, the child is innocent.” Though his tone was still firm, the killing intent from before was clearly gone. Grandpa Richard also frowned, looking at his daughter’s bewildered, innocent eyes and her bulging abdomen, speaking in a low voice. “Until things are completely clear, everyone, speak less.” His gaze swept over Vivian, carrying a flicker of scrutiny. Grandma Eleanor looked at the little life on the screen, and a subtle softness also flashed in her eyes. Vivian felt a jolt of panic seeing them hesitate, but on her face, she managed to look even more wronged. “That’s true, maybe this time our family can have a good ending!” At her words, the various events of the past life seemed to replay before everyone’s eyes, preventing them from letting down their guard or their hatred. Vivian saw that she had achieved her desired effect and immediately looked at Mom provocatively. “Chloe, everyone cares about you so much. You really must ‘keep’ this baby safe.” Mom completely missed the malice in her words, returning a bright, silly smile and nodding vigorously. “Uh-huh! Thank you, Vivian, for your concern. Baby and I will do our best!” Vivian choked at her pure reaction, almost failing to maintain her expression. Back at the family estate, the atmosphere remained heavy. Though Dad no longer mentioned “tormenting Mom,” his gaze was still cold. Grandpa Richard and Grandma Eleanor were silent, and Kyle had moved to the guest house furthest from the main residence, adopting an “out of sight, out of mind” attitude. Yet, in his ears, he still seemed to hear “Uncle’s mean.” It was the weekend family dinner. A critical bidding document from Grandpa Richard’s study had vanished without a trace. “Search! Search everywhere!” Grandpa Richard roared, his face ashen with fury. “Only family members knew where that document was kept!” All suspicious glances instantly focused on Mom. After all, in the past life, it was Mom who had leaked company secrets. Vivian, supporting Grandpa Richard, appeared worried but every word was carefully manipulative. “Chloe, you’re the only one who entered Dad’s study these past few days. I know your memory isn’t great during pregnancy, but the document is very important, can you please try to remember where you put it?” Mom looked bewildered, trying hard to recall. “I did go into the study to bring Dad ginseng tea, but I didn’t touch any documents…” [Ahhh! That bad woman wants Mom to take the fall again! That bad woman clearly snuck into the study last night herself, took Grandpa’s document, and hid it under the rug.] [I saw it all! You want to frame Mommy again, you bad person!] I was so furious I kicked and thrashed inside Mom’s belly. Dad, Kyle, Grandpa Richard, and Grandma Eleanor’s faces all changed simultaneously! Their gazes shot towards the rug in the corner of the study! There, indeed, was a small, barely noticeable bulge. Vivian noticed his stare, her face changing abruptly. She instinctively moved her hand to block it. Dad’s face was as dark as a storm cloud, his gaze icy as he stared at her. “Get the document you hid under the rug, out!” Vivian flinched back: “Ethan, I didn’t…” “Get it out.” Dad’s tone brooked no argument. Finally, the lost document was found under the rug. The setup was undeniable, the evidence ironclad.

Vivian’s tears instantly welled up. Her shoulders trembled slightly; she looked utterly wronged. “It was me who hid it, I’m sorry.” “I was just so scared. I was afraid Chloe would, like in the past life, leak such an important document and cause our family’s bankruptcy, leading to a tragic life. “I didn’t know what to do, I just acted on impulse… I thought I’d hide it first and secretly put it back after the bidding ended. That way, it would be foolproof.” Her excuse was riddled with holes, even a little foolish. However, seeing Vivian cry so heartbrokenly, and hearing her mention the past life’s tragedy, the strictness in Grandpa Richard and Grandma Eleanor’s eyes softened slightly, replaced by a complex understanding. As if her foolish actions truly stemmed from love and fear for the family. Kyle immediately stepped forward, shielding her. “Vivian was also thinking of the family! She just used the wrong method! Compared to someone who deliberately plotted to ruin our family and lives in the past, this small oversight is nothing!” I lay in Mom’s tummy, idly splashing my little feet in the amniotic fluid. [Uncle, that bad woman wasn’t unintentional at all, she deliberately framed Mom.] [If Dad hadn’t helped Mommy this time, Mommy would have been accused of leaking information again, just like in the past! Silly Uncle, I won’t let you lift me up high anymore!] Kyle’s body stiffened abruptly, and the arm protecting Vivian seemed to freeze slightly, his mood heavy. Dad frowned, staring at the crying Vivian, not speaking immediately, but the suspicion in his eyes deepened. Over the next few days, similar minor incidents happened one after another. Whenever something bad occurred in the family, all evidence would point to my beautiful, slightly naive mom. Each time, as the entire family turned their accustomed hateful glances towards my bewildered and helpless mom, my clear and urgent inner voice would chime in at just the right moment, like a little detective, pointing out the crucial evidence. Initially, they remained skeptical, but every time they investigated according to the “hints,” they accurately found evidence proving Mom’s innocence. Time after time. Dad’s gaze towards Mom was no longer the pure hatred it had been, but filled with incredible confusion. Grandpa Richard and Grandma Eleanor looked at Mom’s consistently clear, slightly silly, innocent eyes. Comparing them to Vivian’s feeble excuses after being exposed again and again, they fell into a prolonged silence. Even Kyle, the most unwavering, in the face of repeated “coincidences” and evidence, gradually couldn’t immediately jump to Vivian’s defense. He just looked at Mom with a more complex and scrutinizing gaze. Could it be that the vicious woman, Chloe, who had ruined their family in the past life… was truly… innocent? After a business gala, Dad and Kyle went to the parking lot to get their car, and Mom and Vivian followed. Suddenly, a dozen men armed with clubs and menacing expressions surrounded them from the shadows. “Long time no see, Ethan, Kyle?” The leader grinned maliciously. “Finally caught you alone. This time, if I don’t cripple you, I’ll have lived for nothing!” “Oh, and you brought two pretty women along, huh? Perfect, let’s take them all!” I was so anxious I bounced around inside Mom’s belly. [This didn’t happen in the past life! Why are there bad guys suddenly coming to bully Daddy and Uncle Kyle? Daddy and Uncle Kyle, you must be careful!]

Hearing my inner voice, Dad and Kyle’s faces hardened simultaneously, and they quickly took a defensive stance, back-to-back. Dad looked at the lecherous leader, his face sinking. “Watch your mouth. Say one more word, and I’ll rip it off.” Kyle’s face was also incredibly grim. “Vivian, Chloe, you two go first.” Vivian’s voice trembled. “No, how can I leave you with so many people? We’re family!” Even with her low intelligence, Mom could tell it was dangerous. Protecting her belly, she blurted out. “Okay, I’ll go first!” With that, she actually turned and ran without hesitation! Her speed was unbelievable for a pregnant woman. Dad and Kyle, seeing her decisive “abandonment” and self-preservation, couldn’t help but feel disheartened. The hatred for her that had recently wavered surged up again. Kyle scoffed, his tone full of sarcasm. “Sure enough, in a crisis, she’s not so dumb. Her selfish nature is exposed! Just like in the past life, and we actually believed her again and again. Foolish for two lifetimes, huh.” Dad’s lips were pressed into a thin line, and though he said nothing, his eyes had grown much colder. Vivian, seeing Mom run off, had a flicker of surprise and triumph in her eyes, then switched back to a look of extreme worry. “Kyle, Ethan, even if Chloe doesn’t care about our lives, she’s pregnant! With so many bad guys, I’m worried, I’m going to check on her!” After saying that, she also quickly ran off, but instead of chasing Mom, she hailed a car, and smirking, she drove off. In the parking lot, Dad and Kyle stood back-to-back, surrounded by a dozen burly men with iron bars. Both were injured; Ethan’s lip was split and bleeding, and Kyle’s white shirt had blood seeping from the shoulder. The leader’s eyes gleamed malevolently as he swung the cold iron bar. “Brothers, they’re exhausted! Let’s get them! They’re worth a fortune, millions each. If we sell their organs separately, even more valuable!” As the others prepared to charge again, Dad and Kyle’s faces were grim. Just then, my inner voice was heard from the darkness. [There’s no signal here in the parking lot, but Mommy has already called the police, and she’s also called Grandpa and Grandma. The police will be here soon, Daddy and Uncle Kyle, you must hold on.] [Mommy, you must protect yourself too. I’m so scared and worried.] Then came Mom’s scream. She rushed out of the parking lot, holding a thick wooden stick, sweating profusely. “Stop it! No one gets to bully my family!” Dad’s eyes were wide with shock and horror. Kyle’s ear was bleeding badly, and he couldn’t hear a thing. Seeing Mom run back, his face twisted with scorn and hatred. “You didn’t care about sticking together a moment ago, now you’re back pretending? Chloe, are you here to watch us die? Are you happy to see us die again?” Mom ignored Kyle’s taunts. Seeing the group swinging their clubs at Kyle’s head, she screamed, “Kyle!” Terrified, she rushed forward like a madwoman, throwing herself over him. The heavy iron bar struck her with brutal force. Mom screamed, and in front of Kyle, she collapsed softly to the ground. Bright red blood immediately gushed from between her legs, quickly staining her light-colored skirt. Two voices, twisted with shock, simultaneously pierced the silent night. “Chloe?!” “Chloe?!”

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On New Year’s Eve, right after our compensation money hit the bank, my parents hatched a plan to play broke, just to stop relatives from asking for loans. As the only “good kid” in the family, I was pushed into it. When Uncle George came begging for emergency money, Dad smashed our kitchenware. When Aunt Susan cried about tuition, Mom threatened to make me drop out of school and collect cans. To make their sympathy scam more convincing, On New Year’s Eve, they even hired fake creditors to come to our house, demanding payment and threatening to chop off hands. My parents didn’t hesitate, pushing me forward as collateral. “Take her as collateral, but you won’t get a dime!” They watched me being dragged into the car, even secretly chuckling. I cried and screamed, begging my parents to save me. But to play the part, they slammed the front door shut. What my parents didn’t know was… The “fake creditors” they hired were real hardened criminals. The car door slammed shut, cutting off the light and my parents’ rigid smiles. A dagger pressed against my neck. I instinctively flinched back. “Hey, easy, dude, that really hurts. The prop feels too real.” A hook punched me in the gut. “Thump!” I instantly doubled over, dry-heaving, bile burning in my throat. “Shut the hell up, you talk too much.” The man cursed, his voice rough, with a real gangster edge. Under the streetlights outside the window, I saw the dagger against my neck reflecting the light. There were dark, dried bloodstains in the blade’s fuller. That wasn’t paint. My stomach churned, but my mind went blank with a buzz. “Dude… hitting wasn’t in the script…” The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, sneering: “Scar, this kid really thinks she’s on a movie set.” “These people are ruthless. They’d even send their own daughter off to avoid paying.” Scar spat out a glob of phlegm. “Rich people are all heartless. But hey, it saves us the trouble of kidnapping her.” “A hostage delivered right to our doorstep, why say no?” Hostage? My mind went completely blank. This wasn’t acting; this was a gang of dangerous criminals! I lunged for the window, pounding on the glass. The car hadn’t gone far. I could still see my house. Uncle George was sprawled on the ground, scrambling away, not even bothering with his IOU. My parents stood at the front door. Mom gave an “OK” sign to the departing car, her face beaming. Dad pretended to wipe away tears, but he couldn’t hide the upward curve of his lips. “Dad! Mom! Help me! This is real! They’re real kidnappers!” My throat instantly tasted like blood. Through the soundproof glass, my voice was drowned out by the fireworks. The car suddenly accelerated, turned the corner, and the house disappeared completely. “Hold still!” Scar grabbed my hair, slamming my head hard against the window frame. “Thump!” My vision went black, and warm liquid trickled down my forehead. Blood. It was real blood. Scar pulled out his phone, put it on speaker, and dialed Robert’s number. The call connected, and Robert’s voice came through. “Hello? How’d it go? Did those poor relatives get scared off?” “I’m telling you, the effect just now was incredible!” “Uncle George’s family, those cowards, almost pissed their pants!” Scar sneered, cutting him off. “Boss, the show’s over. Let’s talk about the final payment.” “And your daughter is with us now. The ransom… how much are you paying?” I screamed into the phone. “Dad! Save me! They have knives! Real knives! They’re not actors!” There was a second of silence on the other end. Then, a burst of even more unrestrained laughter. “Hahahaha! Oh, I can’t take it, Brenda, you have to hear this!” “Our daughter’s acting skills, she gets it from me! So realistic!” “I gotta say, guys, your team is professional. The atmosphere is spot-on!” “But our contract was clear, that’s the agreed amount.” “Trying to raise the price for ransom? No chance!” Scar spoke. “Boss, I’m not kidding.” “This kid is bleeding now.” “If you don’t come up with three hundred thousand, next year’s this day will be her death anniversary.” “Three hundred thousand?” “Why don’t you just rob a bank? You guys must be crazy for money!” “Don’t pull that stunt with me. Take this kid as collateral, but you won’t get a dime!” “She’s just a girl anyway, good riddance. Saves us food.” “Go ahead, kill her or sell her, I don’t care.” “Don’t think you’ll get a single penny of my compensation money!” “Beep—beep—beep—” The call was disconnected. The car fell silent. Scar’s hand, holding the phone, hung in the air. He slowly turned his head. He looked at me, his eyes cold and devoid of emotion. “Since your dad doesn’t want you,” He pulled out the bloody dagger and lightly tapped it on my face. “Don’t blame us for being ruthless.” Despair washed over me. The pain of being abandoned by my own parents far surpassed the wound on my forehead.

The car rattled along, stopping in a desolate area. Blindfolded, I smelled pig manure and a sour stench. This was a deserted pig farm on the outskirts of town. On New Year’s Eve, where else would you find a corner where no fireworks were going off? I was dragged out of the car and pushed into a concrete room. My blindfold was removed, and wind and snow hit my face. There was no heating, just a few metal posts. “Tie her up.” Scar sat on a wooden table, lighting a cigarette, the flame flickering on his face. Twig brought some rope and tied me to a post covered in pig manure. The rope dug into my flesh, tearing the skin on my wounds, causing a sharp pain. “Please, brothers, let me go…” “My parents have money, they really do.” “The compensation money just hit their account this morning, a total of three hundred eighty thousand.” “It’s all in that bankbook…” Scar blew out a smoke ring and walked over, pinching my chin. “Scared now? Where was all that enthusiasm for acting just a moment ago?” “That wasn’t acting… I was really scared…” “Please, I’m not worth anything, but that money is my parents’ lifeblood.” “If you just scare them a little, they’ll definitely pay.” Scar narrowed his eyes. “Alright, one last chance.” He pulled my phone from his pocket and unlocked it. “FaceTime your mom. Remember, cry harder, scream louder.” “If we don’t get the money this time, I’ll chop off one of your fingers first.” He pointed the phone’s camera at me and then grabbed a scoop of water from a bucket. The water had ice chips floating on it. “Splash!” A scoop of icy water poured over my head. My wet clothes clung to me, and I shivered, unable to speak. The video call connected. On the screen, their house was brightly lit, a New Year’s Eve special playing on TV. The table was laden with a feast – steak and potatoes, roast chicken. Brenda was sprawled on the couch, munching on chips, and glanced at the video with annoyance. “Mom! Help me! Mom!” “They’re real kidnappers! They’re at a pig farm! It’s so cold…” “I’m going to freeze to death… Please, pay them! They want three hundred thousand!” Brenda didn’t stop munching her chips, yelling to Robert beside her. “Robert, looks like these actors aren’t giving up. They’ve changed tactics.” “Now they’re playing the victim.” Then, she slowly spoke into the screen. “Alright, Mia, that’s enough.” “Uncle George and the others got scared off ages ago, even Aunt Susan’s family blocked us.” “The act is getting boring.” “Mom! This isn’t acting!” I cried, struggling, showing the bloody marks on my wrists to the camera. “Look! This is blood! Real blood! They hit me!” Brenda frowned, leaning closer to the screen. But she just curled her lip. “Oh, so they’re using fake blood now?” “You guys are really pulling out all the stops for a few extra bucks.” “And I’m telling you, that’s your brother’s old hoodie, you know. If you get it dirty, I’ll have to wash it.” “I’m not reimbursing you for that fake blood prop fee!” Scar’s face darkened. He snatched the phone and brandished the dagger in front of the camera. “Listen up, bitch, look closely!” “This blade is razor-sharp!” “If you don’t transfer the money, do you believe I’ll slice off her finger right now?” Brenda was startled by the roar, then curled her lip again. “Alright, alright, threatening us now, are we?” “Honestly, these low-budget actors are so unprofessional. If you want more money, just say so, don’t pull these stunts.” “I’m telling you, forget cutting off a finger, even if you cut off her head,” “You won’t get a dime!” “That money is for my son!” “Beep.” The video call ended. Before it hung up, I saw a cold smile on Brenda’s lips. I looked at the black phone screen, all hope gone. Scar smashed the phone on the ground, the screen cracking. “Damn it! Playing me for a fool!” He yelled, turning around, and stomped on my left hand. “Ah—!” The sound of bone snapping echoed in the factory. My vision went black, and I almost passed out from the pain. “Cry! Keep crying!” Scar kicked me repeatedly. “Since your mom doesn’t want you, then you’re worthless!”

The window couldn’t keep out the wind and snow. Snowflakes drifted in, landing on my frozen body, unmelting. My consciousness began to fade. The excruciating pain of my broken hand kept me barely awake, but I no longer had the strength to scream. I thought, I might really die here. Die on this New Year’s Eve. While on the other side of the city, the place I called “home” should be the warmest right now. At home. Robert and Brenda locked the doors and windows, and drew the curtains. They pulled out a red cloth bag from a secret spot in the back of the pantry. Unwrapping it layer by layer, they revealed a red bankbook. Robert dipped his finger in saliva, counting the zeros in the bankbook over and over. “Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands… three hundred eighty thousand!” “Never seen so much money in my life! Brenda, we’re rich!” Brenda hugged the bankbook and kissed it a few times. “With this money, no one will ever look down on us again!” “Next year, we’ll buy Kevin a house in a top school district, and a new car!” Kevin, who was playing video games, ran over. “Mom! I want the newest game console! It’s eight hundred bucks! And skins!” Normally, Brenda would have slapped him. Today, Brenda waved her hand. “Buy it! Son, you can have anything you want! We’re rolling in money now!” “Just as long as your poor Uncle George doesn’t find out.” Robert chuckled, pouring two glasses of whiskey. “Speaking of which, we really owe it to Mia, that kid, today.” “If we hadn’t pushed her out for this sympathy scam, Uncle George’s family would have never left.” “Yeah.” Brenda took a sip of whiskey, her lips curling into a smile. “Even if those actors charged a bit more, the effect was amazing.” “Uncle George’s pathetic face just now, I laugh every time I think about it.” “You know what they say, you have to make sacrifices to get what you want.” “But…” Robert hesitated. “In the video just now, that kid was screaming pretty badly. Nothing really happened, right?” “What could happen?” Brenda glared at him, picking up a piece of roast chicken with her forks. “It’s all part of the script! What won’t college students do for money these days?” “As long as we stick to our guns and don’t pay, they won’t have a choice.” “They’ll just drop her off somewhere, and Mia will walk herself home eventually.” They clinked their glasses. Inside the pig farm. Scar made a round of calls, his face growing darker and darker. The middleman had blocked him. “Damn it! We got played!” Scar smashed his phone against the wall. “This whole job was a scam from start to finish!” “That old geezer posted fake info online, he tricked us into doing his dirty work!” Twig asked: “Boss, what now? This kid…” He looked at me. “If we let her go, then our kidnapping will be confirmed, right? That’s a felony!” The hesitation in Scar’s eyes vanished, replaced by a murderous intent. “No loose ends.” “This family is so stingy, they won’t call the police for a dead person.” “And this place is remote; once the snow covers it, all traces will be gone.” He picked up the dagger from the ground and walked towards me. I watched the approaching blade, feeling no fear. My heart was already dead. “Brother…” I used my last ounce of strength, my voice weak. “I don’t hate you… I just hate… being their daughter…” Scar’s steps faltered for a second. He cursed. “Damn it, next life, may you have better parents, don’t meet parents like this again.” The blade touched my neck. In that moment, I remembered my childhood. I collected cans for a month, got a few bucks, and bought Kevin some candy bars. I handed them to him, wanting to see his happy face. But Kevin swatted them to the ground with disgust. “Gross! Don’t touch me with your dirty, trash-picking hands!” Mom saw it and scolded me for being inconsiderate and making Kevin cry. Turns out, in this family, I was always superfluous. “Dong—dong—dong—” The midnight chimes of New Year’s Eve rang in the distance. Fireworks exploded in the night sky, illuminating the darkness, and the pig farm. So beautiful. I closed my eyes. The blade sliced across, and warm liquid gushed out, carrying away my last warmth. I fell into a pool of blood, my eyes fixed on the direction of my home. I died in the snowy New Year’s Eve night.

The pain lasted only a moment, then my body felt light. I floated up. All sensations disappeared. I looked down and saw my own body. It hung on the post, twisted. The wound on my neck was still bleeding, forming a puddle at my feet. That was my blood. I was dead. A sense of relief washed over me. Finally, I wouldn’t have to please them anymore. “Damn it, this is bad luck.” Scar cursed, wiping his knife on my clothes. He pulled out another phone, finding an angle to photograph my body. “Boss, what are you doing?” Twig asked, his face pale. “I lost money on this deal, but I won’t let them off easy either.” “I’ll send them a ‘big present’.” “I don’t believe those bastards will still be smiling when they see their own daughter’s corpse.” He opened the camera and turned on the flash. “Click.” A flash of white light, capturing my final appearance: eyes wide open, face covered in blood. “Send.” Scar pressed the button, then snapped the SIM card and tossed it into the manure pit. “Let’s go! The snow’s coming down heavy, perfect for covering our tracks.” They left in a hurry. In the factory, only dead silence remained. I floated for a while, and then a force pulled me, drifting towards my home. A few seconds later, I passed through the security door, through the curtains, and back into that living room. The house was warm, making even me, a freshly dead ghost, feel a bit hot. The table was covered with King crab, roast lamb, and whiskey. Things I never got a taste of when I was alive, not even a sip of soup. Whenever there was good food, Mom always said: “Why do girls need to eat so much? You’ll eat at your in-laws’ when you get married.” Now, they were gathered around the table, eating heartily, oil dripping from their mouths. Brenda held a crab leg in one hand and her phone in the other, sending a voice message to the family group chat. Her voice choked with fake tears. “Oh, sister-in-law, this New Year’s is just impossible.” “As you saw, those creditors were so vicious.” “Mia, that poor child, was taken as collateral, we can’t even afford food anymore…” After sending the message, she tossed her phone aside and smiled at Kevin. “Here, son, eat more crab meat, it’s good for your brain.” Kevin gnawed on a crab leg, asking indistinctly. “Mom, where’s Mia? Was she really sold? Is she coming back?” Brenda’s smile froze for a moment, then she shoved a piece of meat into Kevin’s mouth. “Why bring up that unlucky girl? It’s New Year’s.” “It’s good she’s gone, saves us a dowry payment when she gets married.” “Now that we have this compensation money, you just wait and enjoy your life.” Robert, his face flushed from drinking, clinked his glass with Kevin’s. “Son, this money is all for you.” “Your sister, she just repaid her karma. She had a tough fate, there’s nothing we could do.” I floated in mid-air, watching this scene. These were my family. This was the home I desperately tried to protect, only to be thrown away by them. Robert’s phone vibrated. The notification sound was jarring amidst the New Year’s music from the TV. It was from an unknown number. Robert picked up the phone, looked at it with blurry, drunken eyes, and smiled. “Oh, these actors are pretty dedicated, huh.” He turned the phone screen towards Brenda. “Look, they’re still sending videos on New Year’s.” “They’re probably hoping for a bonus, doing a follow-up survey.” Brenda curled her lip. “Bonus for what? They should be lucky we’re not asking them for compensation.” “Open it. Let’s see what other tricks they’ve got up their sleeves.” I floated above their heads, watching Robert’s finger hover over the play button. It was my death video. “Heh heh, let’s see how far our daughter can take this act.” Robert chuckled, and tapped it. The video buffered for a second, then began to play.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “410242”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On New Year’s Eve, my boss fired me. He publicly announced that he’d given me an 8 million dollar severance package. Overnight, I became the internet’s lucky, overnight millionaire. Even though my bank account only held $325.6, I was slammed online, accused of photoshopping my bank account to fake poverty, a heartless miser unwilling to share my supposed millions. Because of this, my own mother stole my ID to take out a predatory loan! She bought an 8-million-dollar mansion. The debt collectors smashed my house to pieces, forcing me to hand over the massive sum that didn’t even exist. Amidst public condemnation and violent shoves, I fell from the eighteenth floor, shattering into a million pieces. That so-called 8 million was a sham from beginning to end, a fake expense account my boss created to avoid taxes! When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my boss posted that official announcement video. My heart pounded fiercely, cold sweat soaking my back. I looked down. My phone screen was looping the “humanitarian” video. “Considering Quinn Hayes’ dedication and hard work, even if not for her achievements, the company has approved an eight-million-dollar severance package!” “This is our corporate responsibility, our commitment to our employees!” In the video, Mr. Sterling’s face was flushed with success. He held a red termination letter, speaking with an air of righteous indignation. The comment section below had already exploded, full of praise for “conscientious boss” and “angelic company.” My hands and feet turned icy cold. I stared intently at that video. In my previous life, this very video had pushed me into the abyss. Mr. Sterling had unjustly fired me to fabricate expenses and avoid taxes, then concocted this enormous severance pay. When I confronted him, he said it was just to satisfy tax audits. He claimed I wouldn’t have to pay a cent, and I could even build a persona as a rich woman. I was too naive then, thinking as long as I didn’t take the money, everything would be fine. So I went along with it. The result? Relatives swarmed like leeches, netizens doxxed my address, demanding donations, and my own mother stole my ID to go on a spending spree. Finally, I was forced to jump from a building, shattering into a million pieces. Mr. Sterling, meanwhile, gained countless followers with that video and became an industry benchmark. Heaven gave me a second chance. This time, I would never be the silent scapegoat again! Messages were still flooding the team chat. Colleagues were all @-ing me, their tones dripping with envy. [@QuinnHayes Quinn, you’re rich! Eight million, you’ll never have to worry again!] [Seriously, we always thought you were so quiet and kept to yourself. Who knew you’d walk away with such a fortune!] [When are you treating us? Such big news, you’ve gotta take us all out to a fancy dinner, maybe at the Hilton?] I sneered at their words. These very colleagues had been the loudest in condemning me in my past life when I clarified I had no money. They accused me of photoshopping my bank account to fake poverty, called me a heartless miser, and even led the charge in doxxing my desk photos in online hate posts. Mr. Sterling spoke up in the chat then too. [@QuinnHayes The money has been given, but a company non-disclosure agreement still needs to be signed.] [And everyone, don’t just focus on the money. Work hard, and you’ll all have opportunities in the future!] He was sending me a clear message. He was hinting for me to keep my mouth shut and play along with his charade. I took a deep breath, typed out a line, and sent it. [Mr. Sterling, did you transfer the money to the wrong account? My bank account shows zero received.] The group chat went silent for a few seconds. Mr. Sterling never expected me to call him out in front of everyone. A private message popped up immediately. [Quinn Hayes! Don’t you understand the rules?] [That was for show! If you dare to spill anything, I’ll make sure you can’t find another job in this industry!] But having died once, what was there to fear? I ignored the private message and continued to reply in the group chat. [Mr. Sterling, the finance department’s termination settlement clearly states zero severance pay.] [The eight million you mentioned in the video, do you have a specific remittance slip for it?] [My Uncle Mark is classmates with someone at the IRS. Shall I ask him to help us check where this money might be stuck?] He didn’t reply in the chat; he called me directly. I hung up. Want to settle this privately? No way. Just as I hung up, Brenda from the next cubicle, always looking for a handout, leaned over, her face a mask of fake smiles. “Oh, Quinn, Mr. Sterling wouldn’t stiff you on such a small amount, would he? It must be processing.” “But honestly, eight million in hand and you’re still so stingy, not even willing to treat us?” A few other colleagues chimed in. “Yeah, we work ourselves to the bone our whole lives and won’t earn eight million.” “Quinn, you’re being so unfair.” “Exactly, don’t be so selfish.” I looked at Brenda’s greedy face and just felt disgusted. I stood up, holding my phone directly in front of her, and opened my mobile banking app to the balance screen. “Go on, find the eight million for me.” The balance on the screen: $325.6. Brenda froze for a moment, then rolled her eyes, her face full of disbelief. “Oh, Quinn, you’re such a good actress. Who only has one card these days?” “You must have transferred the money to another card, or invested it, right? You’re being too secretive with us.” I laughed bitterly. People only believe what they want to believe. In the face of overwhelming jealousy, the truth didn’t matter at all. Just then, the office door pushed open. Mr. Sterling walked in, his face ashen.

His gaze was dark, fixed intently on me. “Quinn Hayes, my office, now.” He turned and left, not even bothering to close the door. The office was dead silent. Colleagues exchanged glances, all with expressions of eager anticipation. I tidied up my desk, grabbed my voice recorder, and followed him. Once inside his office, Mr. Sterling slammed the door shut. “Quinn Hayes, are you out of your mind?” He lowered his voice, pointing at me viciously. “The company’s tax planning is so everyone can get a bigger year-end bonus!” “You just have to make a scene and make everyone look bad, don’t you?” I looked at him calmly. “Mr. Sterling, I understand tax planning, but it has to be based on legality.” “You publicly claimed you gave me eight million. This money, on the books, is a company expense, which you used for tax deductions.” “But what about me? This money counts as my personal income, and I’d owe millions in personal income tax!” “Are you planning to pay this tax for me, or should I go to jail?” Mr. Sterling paused, not expecting me to bring that up. The old me would have been timid and submissive, just burying my head in the books, never daring to argue with him. His eyes flickered, and his tone softened slightly. “You don’t need to worry about the personal tax; the finance department will cook the books.” “This whole thing will blow over in a few days; no one will remember it once the hype dies down.” “After that, I’ll privately give you fifty thousand dollars as compensation for emotional distress. How about that?” I shook my head. “Mr. Sterling, I don’t want the fifty thousand. I just want to clarify the facts.” “Your video has already been shared over ten thousand times. If I don’t clarify, I’ll have to report myself to the IRS tomorrow.” “Either you post a video clarifying it was a verbal mistake, or I’ll call the police myself.” “You wouldn’t dare!” Mr. Sterling slammed his hand on the table, the jowls on his face trembling. “Quinn Hayes, don’t push your luck! If you dare call the police, I’ll make sure you can’t make a living in this city!” “You can try.” I said coldly, turning to open the door. Mr. Sterling lunged to grab me, but I was ready, sidestepping him and shouting loudly. “Mr. Sterling! Control yourself! I’m here to process my resignation, not to help you commit fraud!” The colleagues who had been secretly listening outside the door jumped back, scattering quickly. Mr. Sterling’s face was beet red, frozen in place, his outstretched hand suspended in mid-air. In front of so many people, if he actually laid a hand on me, the situation would escalate dramatically. He gritted his teeth, pointing at me, “Fine, you’ve got guts. Quinn Hayes, don’t you dare regret this!” I ignored him, went back to my desk, and started packing my personal belongings. Brenda sidled over again, her eyes full of curiosity and schadenfreude. “Quinn, did the negotiations fall apart? Mr. Sterling isn’t giving you the money?” “I knew it, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. But you shouldn’t be too greedy, just settle for what you can get.” I glanced at her, my hands not stopping. “Common sense is a wonderful thing, Brenda. I’ll say it one last time: there is no eight million. Not a single cent.” “Believe it or not.” My phone vibrated wildly. Caller ID: Aunt Carol. My heart sank. In my past life, it was also around this time that my relatives’ calls started pouring in. They weren’t calling to ask about my unemployment; they were calling to borrow money. I took a deep breath and pressed the answer button. Before I could speak, Aunt Carol’s shrill voice came through. “Oh, Quinn! You’ve really made it big! I saw the news, eight million dollars!” “Our family has truly hit the jackpot!” “Just so happens your cousin needs fifty thousand for a down payment on his wedding house. Transfer it over quickly!”

Aunt Carol’s tone was so righteous, as if the money had always been hers. I could also hear the sound of other relatives cracking sunflower seeds in the background. “Aunt Carol.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “That video is fake. It’s just my boss making things up. I was fired, and I didn’t get a single cent of severance.” “Fake? How could it be!” Aunt Carol’s voice grew even louder. “How could a big boss like that put out a fake video? It’s all over the internet!” “Quinn, I carried you around a lot when you were little. How can you now forget your family just because you’ve gotten rich?” “You can’t forget where you came from! It’s just fifty grand, pocket change from your eight million!” The phone’s speaker was loud, and the surrounding colleagues all heard. Brenda immediately covered her mouth, giggling as she whispered to the person next to her. “See? Even her family is asking for money. She definitely got it.” Liam also chimed in sarcastically. “Exactly. So stingy with her own family, no wonder she doesn’t want to treat us.” My knuckles were white from gripping the phone. In their eyes, I was fresh meat, and everyone wanted a bite. “Aunt Carol, I’m telling you one last time: I don’t have the money.” I hung up immediately after saying that, then blocked her number. Before I could even catch my breath, my phone vibrated again. My Uncle Bob, my Aunt Sarah, and classmates I hadn’t spoken to in years. SnapChat messages were exploding, all asking for “money,” “contributions,” or “help.” I looked at the constantly flickering screen, feeling both ridiculous and sad. In my past life, I explained to each one, sending them screenshots of my pay stub. But they called it photoshopped and accused me of being a miser. This life, I was too tired to explain. I simply put my phone on silent, threw it into my bag, and walked out of the company doors with my box. The whispers behind me felt like daggers in my back. “She really left? So dramatic!” “Why would you work if you had eight million? I’d travel the world.” “Acting all high and mighty. She’s probably just afraid we’ll ask her to treat us.” Stepping out of the office building, the cold wind on my face helped me clear my head a bit. The current situation was very disadvantageous for me. Mr. Sterling insisted he’d given me the money, and my relatives and friends all believed him. If I wanted to turn this around, I needed ironclad proof of Mr. Sterling’s fraud. But I had already handed over all the company accounts, and Mr. Sterling kept the core ledgers under strict control. As I waited for a car by the roadside, a familiar figure rushed towards me. “Quinn!” My mom, Susan, carrying her old canvas bag, ran up, panting, and grabbed my hand. “Mom? What are you doing here?” I was surprised. Our hometown was two hours away. How did she get here so fast? My mom’s eyes gleamed, and her grip on my hand was terrifyingly strong. “I saw it on TikTok in the village! Is it true, eight million? Where is it? Is it in your account?” Seeing her greedy expression, my heart sank. In my past life, when I was being brutally attacked online, She didn’t defend me. Instead, she stole my ID and household registration. She took those documents, swayed by a real estate agent, and bought an 8-million-dollar mansion, racking up massive predatory loans! She claimed she wanted to help me manage my money, to save it for me. But what was the result? Debt collectors showed up, smashing our house to pieces. She knelt on the ground, begging me to take out “that eight million” to pay off the debt. When I refused, she cursed me for being unfilial, for watching my own mother die. Looking at that familiar face, a chill ran down my spine. “Mom, that video is fake. I was fired. My boss just made it up to avoid taxes.” I tried to make her see reason. My mom didn’t listen at all. She suspiciously scrutinized me, her eyes sharp with cunning. “Fake? How could a big boss like that just spread rumors?” “Quinn, are you afraid I’ll manage your money? Let me tell you, you’re young and not good with money. That much money isn’t safe with you.” “Give me your card and ID. I’ll put it in a fixed deposit for you. The interest alone will be enough for us!” As she spoke, she reached for my bag.

I stepped back, guarding my bag. “Mom! I told you, I don’t have the money!” Passersby openly stared, some already pulling out their phones to record. I knew this was bad. The “8 million severance” story was trending. If I was seen arguing with my mother on the street, and it got posted online, that would only add fuel to the fire. “Look at you, child! Why are you hiding things from your own mother?” When my mom saw I wouldn’t budge, her eyes immediately reddened. She plopped down on the ground, slapped her thigh, and began to wail. “Heartless! I raised you all these years, and now that you’re rich, you don’t recognize your own mother!” “Eight million dollars! You go enjoy yourself while your mom has to struggle in the countryside!” “Everyone, come judge! This daughter is unfilial!” More and more people gathered, their murmurs growing louder. “Isn’t that the woman who got eight million? I saw the video!” “She looks honest, but how could she treat her own mother like that?” “Money changes people. There are so many ingrates these days.” Someone even shoved a camera in my face. Mr. Sterling hadn’t even made his move yet, but my mother had already plunged the first knife into my heart. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I couldn’t fight her directly; that would only confirm I was a “heartless rich miser.” I crouched down, my eyes red-rimmed, my voice neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for the surrounding people to hear. “Mom, please don’t make a scene. If I really had eight million, would you be wearing these cheap clothes?” “Look at my phone; the screen is shattered, and I haven’t even replaced it.” “My boss is deliberately spreading rumors to avoid paying actual severance, trying to ruin my life!” “I’ve even lost my job now; I can’t even pay next month’s rent.” “If you keep this up, we’ll both end up begging for food!” The murmurs around us shifted slightly. “She doesn’t look like she has money…” “Yeah, no big boss would really give eight million; it’s probably just a gimmick.” “This mother is out of line. Whether it’s true or not, you don’t publicly shame your daughter like this.” My mom saw the shift in public opinion. She paused, then got up from the ground, wiping her nose. “He… he really didn’t give it to you?” “No! If you don’t believe me, we can go to the bank right now and check!” I grabbed her hand, ready to go. My mom’s eyes flickered, and she pulled her hand back. “N-no need. Well, if you don’t have money, can you at least let me borrow your ID?” “My ID expired, and since I’m in the city now,” “I wanted to apply for a senior citizen’s card, but they said I need a local resident permit, or to use my child’s.” My heart lurched. In my past life, she used this exact excuse to trick the documents out of my bag. I looked at her evasive gaze and understood everything. She wanted to use my documents to “confirm,” or perhaps… she had already been brainwashed by that real estate agent. Mr. Sterling’s video was the best “proof.” “My ID is at home; I didn’t bring it with me,” I lied. “Then hurry home and get it!” My mom became anxious, no longer crying. She grabbed me, pulling me towards the subway station. I smirked inwardly, showing no emotion on my face, obediently following her. You want my ID? Then I’ll give you a “surprise.” Back at my rented apartment, in front of her, I rummaged through drawers and cabinets for a long time, then spread my hands helplessly. “Oh, Mom, I think I left it at the office.” My mom’s face instantly changed. Just as she was about to explode, my phone rang. I had an ominous feeling. “Hello, is this Ms. Quinn Hayes?” The voice on the other end was a man’s, polite but with an unsettling coldness. “This is Prime Loans. Your mother, Susan Hayes, just submitted a loan application on our platform.” “Due to the substantial amount, we need to verify with you.” My blood ran cold. My mom was right next to me! I turned to look at my mom. She guiltily averted her gaze, her hand unconsciously clutching her canvas bag tightly. Inside that bag… could it be? “How much did she apply for?” I asked, trembling. “Three million dollars. The collateral used is a down payment proof for a property currently under purchase, as well as…” “A high-definition printout of Mr. Sterling’s video promising the eight-million-dollar severance package.”

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The video of my husband and my sister having sex in a car went viral, and that’s when I received two phone calls. One was a torrent of abuse from my mother, the other a warning from my mother-in-law. “You worthless disappointment! Her mother stole my man, and now she’s stolen yours too? Do you have any idea how much effort I put into raising you?” “If this affair damages the Davies family’s reputation, you can forget about ever seeing your son, Leo, again!” My phone buzzed again, a message from my sister, full of smugness. In the photo, her face was radiant, the marks on her neck glaringly obvious. “Ellie, Ethan was amazing, he took me over and over again.” “I told him I couldn’t take any more, but he was so relentless.” I sat at the dining table, numbly swallowing my meal along with my antidepressants. Beside me lay a crumpled, worn-out letter. In childish handwriting, there was only one short sentence. It was late when Ethan returned. He roughly tore at my clothes. Drowsy from the medication, I woke with a start, opening my eyes to see a drunken Ethan. The smell of alcohol on him was thick and pungent, and his eyes held an inexplicable hatred. I began to wonder what I had done wrong. As soon as the malicious rumors hit trending topics, I contacted PR to suppress them. The company quickly released a statement, claiming the images circulating online were AI-generated. And I posted photos on my personal Ins account: me, linking arms with Ethan, smiling brightly, while he looked dotingly at me. The rumors of marital discord stopped. After all that, controlling public perception as much as possible, I had barely managed to appease my mother-in-law’s anger. As Mrs. Davies, everything I did was impeccable. I couldn’t understand what Ethan was unhappy about? He didn’t give me time to think. He was here for one purpose: the task of conceiving a second child. I lay on the bed like a breeding machine, letting Ethan have his way. However, the position Ethan demanded today was exceptionally humiliating. He wanted me to beg him like an animal for sex. He lit a cigarette, a smirk playing on his lips: “Don’t want to?” My nails dug into my palms. When I looked up, my face showed a rare anger. Ethan didn’t give me a chance to rage. He seemed to change completely. He gently hugged me from behind, chuckling, “If my wife doesn’t want to, then forget it.” “I was just teasing you. You’re my wife, my partner. How could I make you do something so demeaning?” Ethan tenderly kissed my cheek, as if the main character of today’s trending scandal had nothing to do with him. He was always like this, provoking my anger with harsh words. Then he’d casually brush it aside, and my pain and grievances were dismissed as overreacting. Just then, Ethan’s phone rang. From the other end of the line, Brooke’s sobs could be heard. “Ethan, it’s thundering outside. I’m so scared.” “Ethan, will you come be with me?” Brooke half-sobbed, half-pouted. Ethan’s face was full of concern. He hung up, leaving a quick “Something came up at the office.” I grabbed his sleeve, using almost all my strength. “It’s my birthday today. Will you stay?” Ethan paused for a second, then impatiently said, “I told you something came up at the office. Can you stop making a scene?” He forcefully shook me off and left without looking back. The room grew cold. I refreshed Ins, and as expected, saw Brooke’s new photo. In the picture, Ethan was kissing her passionately, with the caption, “He braved the heavy rain to come to me.” I suddenly remembered, when I had just given birth to Leo, I had an argument with Ethan over a minor thing. He left me in the pouring rain without a second thought. I gave a bitter laugh. Then I noticed a peach-colored thong on the bedroom carpet, covered in suspicious fluids. It must have fallen out when Ethan left in a hurry. In an instant, my stomach churned. I vomited in the bathroom until I was lightheaded, my heart aching uncontrollably. I had tried to resign myself to my fate, but at that moment, I felt so dirty, so utterly defiled! Closing my eyes, the scene of Ethan and Brooke engaged in passionate acts flashed through my mind. So dirty, so disgusting! As I stood up, an envelope fell from my coat pocket. The letter inside was crumpled into a ball. I slowly unfolded it, my fingers tracing the words. My seventeen-year-old self, full of hope, had written this letter, wanting to ask my future self. “Ellie, are you free?” I gripped my phone tightly, finally sending the message. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.”

Ethan didn’t reply. The next morning, my mother stormed into my room. She pointed at me and started yelling curses: “How can you be so useless? You can’t even keep your man in line!” “Ethan came to your room, and you still let him run off to that slut! How could I have given birth to such a worthless disappointment?” Brooke was my father’s illegitimate daughter. My mother and her mother had been rivals their entire lives. And I was born to marry into a rich family. My mother firmly believed that only if I married someone wealthy would my father change his mind, and her legitimate status would forever be secure. When I was little, my mother’s most frequent saying was: “To ensure you’d be a lucky charm for your husband, I endured the pain and waited two whole hours, until the master had calculated the auspicious time to give birth to you!” “If you can’t marry into wealth, will you live up to my expectations?” So, from childhood, I was groomed to be a wife for a wealthy family. I couldn’t eat too much, because I had to maintain my figure. My academic performance had to be excellent, because rich families preferred well-educated wives. If I failed, my mother would whip my legs with a thin cane, scolding me as she hit. “If you don’t marry into wealth, your life will be ruined!” “Not only will your life be ruined, but I’ll never be able to hold my head high!” Now, with that illegitimate daughter parading around, my mother’s face was contorted with rage. A strange sense of satisfaction surged through me. My mother paced anxiously: “Back in college, you and Ethan were so in love! He listened to your every word.” “Did you do something to upset him?” Her voice turned shrill and grating. Ethan was the one who cheated, yet everyone thought it was my fault. A car pulled up downstairs. Ethan, who hadn’t returned all night, was back. Ethan handed me a gift box, as if nothing had happened. He apologized to me in an affectionate tone: “This is your birthday gift. Last night was my fault.” “Don’t be mad, honey. I shouldn’t have left you to deal with office matters. It won’t happen again.” I opened the gift box. It was a jewel necklace. My mother, beaming, put it on me: “See? I told you Ethan cares about you.” “We have a family gathering tonight. Wear this necklace and really put that little slut in her place!” Sitting in the car on the way to my parents’ house, my long-held tension made me feel a bit spaced out. Ethan and I weren’t in a business arrangement. Mrs. Davies never liked me as a daughter-in-law. Although my family was well-off, compared to the vast and influential Davies family, we were clearly insignificant. Ethan had almost been disowned by his family to force them to accept me. He gave me the grandest wedding in the city, vowing in a beautiful chapel to love only me forever. He would even take me on a plane to Iceland the very next day, just because I said, “I want to see the Northern Lights.” But vows eventually fade, and all I was left with was the empty title of “Mrs. Davies.” As soon as I got out of the car, I saw Brooke. My mother spat in disgust: “That little bitch still dares to show her face, shameless like her mother!” But soon my mother was smug again: “She’s destined to be a mistress her whole life. My Ellie is truly successful.” At the dinner table, my mother bragged about how well I was doing in the Davies family and how much Ethan doted on me. She pointed to the necklace around my neck. “This is a gift Ethan bought for Ellie. Some people shouldn’t think they can marry up and become royalty!” Brooke came over with a wine glass, her gaze swept over the necklace, and then she burst into laughter. She pulled out a photo. It was Brooke’s birthday the day before, and gifts from Ethan piled her room. And the gift box Ethan had given me was prominently displayed among them, only it had a “complimentary gift” tag on it. “Just a freebie I didn’t want. Only you, Ellie, would treat it like a treasure.” My mother shrieked and lunged at her. She hurled every vile insult she could think of, venting her humiliating shame. “You’ve utterly disgraced me!” “How could I have given birth to such a useless thing? I should have choked you to death back then!” I listened expressionlessly to my own mother’s abuse. My hand slipped into my pocket, clutching that letter from ten years ago. The gathering ended on a sour note. As we left my parents’ house, a light rain began to fall. Brooke stood beside me, dialing Ethan’s number. She said coyly, “Ethan, baby, it’s raining outside.” Ethan’s voice came through: “Where are you?” “I’m at my parents’ place. Ellie’s here too.” “I’ll come pick you up.” Brooke gave me a challenging smile. I ignored her, walking briskly in the opposite direction. At the hospital entrance, I bought a bouquet of sunflowers. I knocked on the familiar hospital room door, but a stranger opened it. The word “Grandma” caught in my throat, my heart skipped a beat. I pulled a nurse aside and asked, “Has the elderly lady in room 301 been moved?” The nurse shook her head: “You mean Grandma Rose? She passed away last month.” The wall clock ticked, but I couldn’t hear any sound. I felt a chill spread through me, my hand gripping my phone trembling uncontrollably. I dialed my mother’s number. “Why?” My mother’s voice was still full of anger: “Why what? What fit are you throwing now?” “Why… didn’t you tell me Grandma Rose had passed away?” My voice was hoarse, each word slow and deliberate. Grandma Rose’s health had always been poor. After she was hospitalized, I often visited her. But my mother had told me Grandma Rose had a major surgery and needed quiet recovery, so I should visit less to avoid disturbing her. My mental state had been poor recently, and I was afraid that visiting Grandma Rose would make her notice something amiss and worry unnecessarily. I never imagined I wouldn’t even get to say my last goodbye to Grandma Rose. On the other end of the line, my mother was silent for a long time. “Funerals are bad luck… unclean.” “I had a master calculate it for you. These two months are the best time to conceive, and the child born will bring good fortune to the family. The presence of death is believed to disturb the fetus, it’s an old wives’ tale.” “If you got pregnant, and this affected the baby’s destiny, it would be an irreparable loss!” “Your grandma loved you most when she was alive. If she’s watching over us from heaven, she’d support my decision.” I collapsed in the hospital corridor, my vision blurring. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. My birth had to bring good fortune to my husband, and my child’s birth had to bring good fortune to the family. It was pathetic! Absolutely pathetic!

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My brother and I were the perfect kids in everyone’s eyes. No matter how tough the test, we always aced it, topping the class. Until this month’s exam, when I only came in second, just one point shy of first. That was the first time Mom looked at me with such disappointment. “Leo, aren’t you ashamed of how badly you did?” My brother, Noah, who had just finished a game, looked up at me too. “Dude, you’re so dumb.” “How could you even lose such easy points?” I clenched my shirt tightly and started to promise, “Next time…” But Mom didn’t give me a chance to finish; instead, she shooed me into my room. “Oh, so now you’re talking back!” “No dinner until you finish ten worksheets today!” Inside my room, I heard my parents arguing. “He’s still so young, aren’t you afraid you’ll starve him?” “He did so badly, what right does he have to eat?!” “Besides, what’s one night without food going to do?!” Their shouting made my head spin. As my consciousness blurred, I started to fantasize, If only I could be the perfect kid Mom always wanted… The next second, a robotic voice echoed in my ear. “Congratulations, player, you’ve successfully triggered the Perfect Child System.” “Would you like to activate it?”

But when the Perfect Child System actually appeared before me, I hesitated. “What’s the cost?” “The cost? Your personality will be replaced by the perfect persona.” “In other words, once the system is activated, ‘you’ will no longer be you.” My parents’ arguments kept echoing in my ears. “You think I’m heartless?! What choice do I have!” “A psychic told me Noah was born a genius, destined for academic greatness. But Leo, he was just… destined to struggle!” “We poured everything we had into his education, even selling our best house and car for private tutors, just so he could scrape by with good grades!” “But now he…” “He’s not even good-looking, and his grades aren’t outstanding. What if he can’t find a partner when he’s older?!” “David, I’m worried!!” Mom’s sorrowful cries mixed with Dad’s angry voice. But I couldn’t hear them anymore. No wonder our big mansion from childhood had shrunk into a cramped apartment. No wonder Dad came home later and later, constantly working overtime at the office. No wonder Mom, who used to be so vain, had more and more wrinkles on her beautiful face and more gray hairs. No wonder Noah’s game consoles became fewer and fewer, and he often looked at me with regret. It was all because of me! I was the one hurting them!! Even though there was only emptiness before me, I still nodded firmly into the air. “I agree to activate the Perfect Child System!” “Alright, deducting all assets from the player.” I instinctively tried to interrupt: “Wait!” “Can I keep five hundred dollars?” The system’s voice showed a hint of impatience: “Bargaining is prohibited!” I clenched my crumpled shirt, and slowly spoke: “Please, I beg you…” “Tomorrow is my mom’s birthday. For the last time, I want to give her a gift.” After a long silence, the system replied. “Fine. It’s almost New Year anyway, so I’ll waive those five hundred bucks.” “Also, your personality will disappear after tomorrow. Say your goodbyes to everyone you love as soon as possible.” I nodded, understanding. After the system vanished, I heard knocking at my door, mixed with curses. “What? You get mad just because I yell at you a bit?” “How old are you, still acting like a child!” “Fine, you won’t open up, huh? I’m taking this stuff away, starve to death for all I care!” “Honestly, I must have owed you in a past life!” But I still didn’t dare open the door. I was afraid that if I saw Mom, I wouldn’t be able to stop crying, Wouldn’t be able to beg the system to give up the activation. So, it wasn’t until the TV sounds also disappeared that I dared to open the door. It was dark outside, and no one was there. On the dinner table was a steaming bowl of rice, piled high with all my favorite dishes. Next to it were my favorite fruits. I clamped my hand over my mouth, preventing my sobs from escaping.

The next morning, I planned to wear my brand-new school uniform to say goodbye to my friends. But when Mom saw the clothes I was wearing, her face instantly darkened. “Leo, have you gone crazy from all that studying?” “Why on earth are you wearing a new uniform for no reason?” The muffin in my mouth suddenly tasted bland. I stammered, “Because…” Noah adjusted his glasses, his voice chillingly cold. “Everyone at school is saying Leo’s dating a girl. Looks like it’s true.” Dating a girl? I was just asking the class rep for help on the last difficult math problem… But Mom didn’t listen to my explanation; she slapped me hard. She was trembling with anger: “Oh, so you’re dating now!” “And I even felt guilty yesterday, blaming myself for getting mad at you over one point!” “I never thought your mind would already be off your studies!” The spot where she slapped me felt hot. Before I could even cry out in pain, She forcibly stripped off my new uniform, And shoved the faded, washed-out uniform onto me. She also messed up my hair, which I had spent so long styling. In the mirror, I looked utterly insane. “From now on, this is how you’re going to school!” “Let’s see if you still dare to have bad thoughts!” I looked pitifully at Dad, Every time I looked at him, he would play peacemaker and calm Mom down. But this time, he was angry too. “Looking at me won’t help, just do as your mom says!” “You’re young, you should be studying hard, not wasting your time on these irrelevant things!” I sniffled, holding back my tears. Just as I was about to grab a muffin to eat on the way, Mom slapped my hand away. “Eat what? Eat what?!” “Get to school right now! Just looking at you annoys me!” I quietly packed my backpack and waited for Noah by the door. Mom helped Noah straighten his collar and handed him a packed lunchbox. “The fruit today is great. Don’t forget to share with your friends at school.” As if sensing my pitiful gaze, She coldly glanced at me. “You don’t get any today.” “You’ll get fruit slices when you come in first place.” I nodded disappointedly. But then I remembered it was my last day with them, I still tried to force a smile for her. “Okay, Mom.” Just as I was about to leave, she called out to me again: “Wait!” “I haven’t given you your stuff yet!” I felt a flicker of joy. But the next second, her actions shattered all my expectations. She shoved a thick stack of workbooks into my backpack. It was so heavy that my shoulder dropped an inch. Then, without hesitation, she pushed me out the door. “Alright, go to school.” “Oh, and by the way, from now on, you have to submit a daily report on your studies to me every single day.” “What you did at school, what you learned, you must write it all down clearly!” “Don’t think about writing something quick to fob me off. I’ll call your teacher and other classmates to confirm!” Noah was engrossed in his game, wearing headphones, As if none of this concerned him. My heart ached. Why could he get perfect scores and everything he wanted so effortlessly, while I, no matter how hard I studied, could never keep up with him… I shook my head, trying to push away all the unhappiness. It’s okay. After today, I’ll be the perfect kid in their eyes. They won’t treat Noah and me differently anymore. I suddenly longed for tomorrow to come.

As soon as school was out that evening, I rushed to the mall to buy Mom a gift. It was a long journey, and I didn’t get home until eight in the evening. As soon as I pushed open the door, I eagerly shouted into the house: “Happy Birthday, Mom!!” “Look what I bought you…” But what greeted me was Mom’s grim face. Her face was dark as thunder. She blocked me at the doorway, not letting me take a step inside. She held a thick cane in her hand, staring intensely at me: “Leo, it’s eight o’clock at night! Where have you been?!” “Do you know how worried the whole family was about you!” Dad’s voice carried a hint of exhaustion: “It’s your mom’s birthday today, can’t you just calm down?!” Noah snatched the bag from my hand and threw it to the ground. “Leo, you’re unbelievable!” “We’ve been waiting for you for so long, and you were out shopping with your girlfriend!” I instinctively tried to grab the bag back: “No, I wasn’t!” “That’s for…” But my struggle, in their eyes, was a sign of guilt. “Not true?” Mom snatched my bag. She roughly tore open the pretty wrapping paper, only to find a delicate silver bracelet inside. Mom froze for a moment, picking up the bracelet blankly: “This is…” Did Mom understand? I swallowed, seizing the opportunity to explain. “It’s the birthday present I bought for you!” “Every time we went to that mall, you always couldn’t help but stare at that gold bracelet…” “Even though you said it was nothing special. But I know, you’ve always really liked it!” “I couldn’t afford gold, so I could only buy you silver…” “But I know you won’t mind, right!” I grew more excited as I spoke, unable to resist taking the bracelet. “Mom, let me help you try it on to see if it fits!” “If it doesn’t, we can still exchange it today!” Mom coldly pulled her hand back, looking at me suspiciously. “Really?” For some reason, her gaze made my heart pound. But I still pretended to be calm and nodded. The atmosphere grew heavier, and Dad finally spoke. “Alright, alright, the kid’s heart is in the right place, don’t be so suspicious!” “Leo, go wash your hands, dinner’s ready!” I immediately breathed a sigh of relief. But the next second, Mom’s cane struck my leg. “Only you would believe his nonsense!” “I just saw it, this thing costs hundreds!” “He’s just a student, where would he get money for a gift like that?!” I cried out in pain: “Ah—!!” “That was, that was my birthday money!” She froze for a moment. Then hit me even harder. “You’re still lying!” “Your annual allowance, maybe a few hundred bucks, it’s all spent on workbooks, remember? There’s nothing left!” “Tell me, did some rich sugar mama buy this for you?!!” “I’m such a failure, how could I raise a child like you!!” I endured the pain, trying to steady her trembling body. “Mom, no…” “You’re not a failure, I’m the one who’s not good enough!” “I’m not good enough…” But the next second, she forcefully pushed my hand away. “Get out!” Her voice became very faint: “If only I had Noah as my only son…” I looked up at her; she was clutching her chest, struggling to breathe. “Mom—!!” The next second, she collapsed. Dad called an ambulance. Just as I was about to follow them, Noah blocked my way. “Leo, you practically made Mom pass out, and you still have the nerve to go with them?!” I couldn’t do anything but grab Dad’s sleeve, pleading desperately. “Dad, please…” “I want to go to the hospital with Mom too!” But Dad furiously shook my hand off. “Stop making things worse, will you?!” “Are you trying to make me die of anger too?!” I was flung to the ground, but he wouldn’t even look at me, He just turned and got back into the ambulance. The car sped away, and I ran after it. “Mom—” “Mom!!” But no matter how loudly I shouted, the car didn’t stop for a second. I stared blankly at the receding taillights. “Can the system be activated early?” A cold, robotic voice sounded in my ear. “Your pain perception is not yet fully numb. Activating early may cause unbearable suffering.” “Do you still wish to proceed?” I nodded firmly. Less than a second later, a bloody gash appeared on my arm. The system forcibly implanted a chip under my skin. A strange sensation surged through my body, As if someone was seizing my body, seizing my consciousness… As the pain slowly faded, I heard my own voice: “Perfect Child System officially activated.”

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