During the year I loved Arthur the most, he died in a car crash. Everyone expected me to have a total breakdown, but I didn’t cry or make a scene. Two years later, I bumped into him in a private room at a club. Arthur had his arms around a young girl, kissing her passionately. His friends quickly surrounded me, scrambling to explain: “Arthur was severely injured in that crash and fell into a coma. He just recently woke up, but he has amnesia… We didn’t want you living in constant anxiety, so we never told you.” Arthur pushed the girl away, walked up to me, and frowned: “I heard you’re my fiancée? Even though I don’t remember it, seeing how devoted you’ve been to me, I’ll honor my promise and marry you.” I smiled faintly and replied, “They’re lying to you. We don’t know each other.” Arthur didn’t know that on the very day he faked his death, I received a video. In the video, Arthur was laughing and telling his friends: “The thought of only having Chloe for the rest of my life after we get married… I just can’t accept it. “I’m going to fake my death and have fun for a few years. You guys make sure to comfort her. Don’t let her do anything stupid.” He also didn’t know that during the two years he spent “dead,” I had found someone else too. 1 The friends around us froze for a moment, then started trying to persuade me: “Chloe, how can you say you don’t know him? We’re the ones who hid it from you. It has nothing to do with Arthur.” “Yeah, Chloe, we did it for your own good. We didn’t want you constantly worrying. Now that Arthur finally woke up, please don’t throw a tantrum.” The private room was suddenly filled with accusations directed at me. Before I could even speak, a loud scoff cut through the noise. Arthur stood up from the sofa, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, and said with lazy arrogance: “If she says we don’t know each other, then forget it. Saves me the trouble of taking responsibility.” The young girl who had been with him immediately clung to his arm, lifting her face with a shy, nervous look: “Arthur… I know you. She doesn’t appreciate you, but I… I’m willing to marry you, okay?” Arthur didn’t answer. He just shot me a cold, indifferent glance, then wrapped his arm around the girl’s waist, leaned down, and kissed her. Seeing this, his friends immediately stepped in front of me to block my view. They tried to comfort me: “Chloe, Arthur has amnesia. You know he loved you the most before.” “Yeah, Chloe. You need to show him more care and help him remember you sooner. Stop throwing these little fits.” I opened my mouth, about to say something to these so-called friends of Arthur’s, when a sudden, sharp pain shot through my abdomen. My face instinctively went pale. I didn’t stay another second; I turned and walked out of the room. I moved so fast that the people inside didn’t even have time to react. Only after I had completely disappeared did they sigh and say to Arthur: “Arthur, you went too far. Chloe is genuinely jealous and angry. Her face went completely white. What if she really dumps you?” Arthur smiled, sitting back down on the sofa. “Chloe is easy to coax. It’s been two years; I refuse to believe she doesn’t miss me. “Besides, I have ‘amnesia’ right now. Once I’ve had my fun, I’ll just tell her my memory came back and that none of this was my true intention. I won’t even have to apologize. I’ll just crook my finger, and she’ll come running back.” 2 Once I was out of the room, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and crouched on the floor. Waves of pain radiated from my stomach, draining me of the strength to even make it to the restroom. Until a shadow fell over me. A familiar voice sounded above me: “What, feeling heartbroken? Hoping to rekindle that old flame?” I looked up to see Asher leaning against the doorframe a short distance away, arms crossed, looking at me with a cool expression. He was dressed entirely in black. He had a high, straight nose bridge, and his eyes were hidden in the dim light, making his emotions impossible to read. Under the lights, the lines of his thin lips were beautiful and sharp. In that instant, a surge of grievance from being falsely accused swelled in my heart. My tears, completely betraying me, started falling uncontrollably. Asher panicked instantly. He dropped his arms and hurried over to me. “Don’t cry. I won’t say it again.” He had a great build and was very strong. He scooped me up from the floor with one arm. The scent of cedar drifted into my nose, stirring my heartstrings. I naturally wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered: “My stomach hurts…” Asher paused for a second: “Did it come early?” I nodded, my lips accidentally brushing against his chin, and rested my head on his broad shoulder. Asher carried me to his car, turned on the heat, and said: “Wait for me in the car. I’m going to buy you some things.” With that, he closed the door and turned to leave. The dim yellow light from the streetlamps spilled over him, outlining his tall, straight back. Not long after, a video call notification popped up. It was Asher. “They’re out of the brand you usually use. Do any of these look okay?” I was just about to pick one when a familiar, surprised voice rang out from the video feed. Arthur, his arm around the young girl’s waist, walked into the convenience store. He looked Asher up and down and said in astonishment: “I asked you to come drinking tonight, and you said no. Turns out you’re here buying stuff for a woman! “Are you on a video call with her? Let me see! Who on earth managed to get our aloof Mr. Sterling to open up?” Saying that, Arthur reached out, trying to snatch Asher’s phone. I instinctively moved my face away from the camera. But Arthur never touched the phone. Asher just gave him a flat, cold look, and Arthur immediately pulled his hand back. “Alright, alright. I see you’re guarding your treasure closely. Remember to bring her out to meet us next time! “Oh, by the way, Asher, I ran into Chloe. She walked into the wrong private room and caught me kissing another woman. It scared the hell out of me. Thank God the other guys thought fast and told her I had amnesia. I’ll play around a bit more, and then my memory will ‘magically’ return. “Of course, you really helped me out big time, bro. When I realized I hadn’t had my fun yet, your idea to fake my death was an absolute lifesaver.” The video feed shook, and the next second, the screen showed the call had ended. 3 Asher returned ten minutes later. He didn’t dare look at me. He just handed me the things he bought, quickly got into the driver’s seat, and locked the doors. “I had someone deliver some brown sugar ginger tea to the house. Do you… want to go back and drink it?” Asher’s words carried a hint of cautious hesitation. It actually made me want to laugh. Asher was a well-known second-generation heir in the capital. And he was also Arthur’s best friend. In the past, whenever I went out to dinner with Arthur, Asher was always there. Back then, he was incredibly cold towards me. Especially when people teased me and Arthur, telling us to show some PDA, Asher wouldn’t even spare us a glance. He would even look mocking and disgusted. So much so that everyone in that circle thought he hated me. Until the day Arthur supposedly died in a car crash, and I received a video. A video sent by Asher. In the video, Arthur was laughing and telling his friends: “The thought of only having Chloe for the rest of my life after we get married… I just can’t accept it. “I’m going to fake my death and have fun for a few years. You guys make sure to comfort her. Don’t let her do anything stupid.” But what I never expected was that this whole “fake death” scheme was actually Asher’s idea. This man was quite the schemer. 4 The moment we arrived at Asher’s villa, my feet barely touched the ground before he swept me up into a princess carry. After I handled things in the bathroom, Asher placed me on the bed and handed me his phone to play games. Once I finished the hot drink, he practiced taking off his clothes, lay down beside me, and began rubbing my stomach. The overhead light draped over his abs like a thin veil. Every defined line seemed to whisper an untold story, making me want to explore. I thought it, and I did it. Asher’s eyes darkened, and he pinned down my restless hand. “Behave.” I ignored him. He cupped the back of my head and kissed me deeply. Two years was more than enough time for him to learn my body perfectly. When things got heated, he grabbed my hand. His voice was hoarse as he spoke: “Help me.” I had learned about Asher’s stamina the very first time we slept together after I got drunk. It wasn’t until my wrist was aching terribly that he finally finished. Just as he was about to carry me to the bathroom to clean up, the phone by the bed started ringing. It was Asher’s phone. I had accidentally rolled over and hit the answer button. “Ash, I’m planning to throw an engagement party with Mia just to piss Chloe off. What do you think? “She saw I was alive, and instead of caring about my health, she just got jealous and angry! She hasn’t even contacted me yet! “Looks like she’s grown a spine during these two years. I need to torture her a little, let her experience the pain of losing me all over again. I need to plan this out. When the time comes, you have to…” Arthur’s voice poured out of the speaker. But before he could finish, he stopped abruptly. Because I couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp. Not because of what Arthur said, but because something had woken up again. And it twitched right in my hand. 5 I glared at Asher, feeling both annoyed and embarrassed. Arthur’s voice came through the phone again, sounding amazed: “Well, well, Asher! What are you up to right now? You actually have a woman with you?! Tell me right now, is it the woman you were video calling today?” After not seeing each other for two years, and the fact that I only made a brief, simple sound… Combined with the countless women Arthur had surrounded himself with over the years, he completely failed to recognize it was me. Asher clearly had no intention of entertaining Arthur. His eyes were locked onto me, burning with unspoken desire. I glared at him fiercely, broke free from his embrace, and scrambled toward the other side of the bed. But before I could even crawl a single step, Asher grabbed my ankle and dragged me back. Arthur kept talking: “My good brother, you absolutely have to bring her out so I can see who this goddess is! To think she managed to get our iron tree to bloom! Since you’re finally playing the game, you can’t refuse when I introduce girls to you from now on! “Oh, right, the engagement party. Originally, I was going to ask you to invite Chloe for me, but knowing how much you’ve always hated her…” Before Arthur could finish, an impatient Asher hung up the phone. He tossed the phone onto the bed, scooped me up with one arm, and carried me to the bathroom. When we finally came back out, it was three hours later. Asher looked thoroughly satisfied. I glared at him, collapsed on the bed, and refused to speak to him. I picked up my phone and saw I had received a text message. It was from one of Arthur’s friends. Two years ago, Arthur had brought me into all his social circles. [Chloe, Arthur is getting engaged to someone else in seven days. You have to come stop him! I don’t want him to regret this when he gets his memory back! This isn’t his true intention!] I glanced at the message, deleted it, and tossed my phone aside. I’m not the type of person who goes looking for trouble when I have none. What does Arthur getting engaged have to do with me? Asher reached out to pull me into his arms. I glared at him and quickly shimmied away. I absolutely did not want to endure another three or four hours. 6 The news that Arthur was alive and planning to get engaged spread quickly. Many friends reached out to me. Some offered sympathy, some furiously cursed Arthur for being a scumbag, and others were just there to enjoy the drama. My college roommate, Lily, called me, loudly condemning Arthur. “When I first heard Arthur wasn’t dead, I was so happy for you! But then I heard he’s getting engaged to someone else?! That is completely unacceptable! So what if he has amnesia?! Does that mean he can just betray you?! You are his fiancée! Did no one tell him that?! “No way, I can’t let my best friend get bullied like this! I’m going to find out where Arthur is having his engagement party, and we are going to go get justice for you!” I laughed: “Even marriages end in divorce; an engagement can be canceled. My relationship with him ended two years ago. Whatever he does now has nothing to do with me.” Lily was still furious: “I just can’t swallow this! You waited for him for two whole years! I watched you stay single this entire time!” I choked on the cracker I was eating. Who waited for him for two years? It was just that my relationship with Asher hadn’t been made public yet. Lily continued trying to persuade me, wanting me to go with her to confront Arthur. After I refused again, she sighed. “Alright, alright. Are you free to go out tonight? We haven’t hung out in forever. Drinks are on me tonight!” Having nothing better to do, I agreed. Lily picked the location. She arrived before I did. Looking at the hotel in front of me, I was a bit confused. “Didn’t you say we were going to a bar? Why are we at a hotel?” Lily looked a bit evasive, pulling my arm as she walked inside. “Bars are so unsafe at night! What if we get drunk and run into danger? A nice hotel is much better. We can get some food, too. It’ll be so comfortable.” Lily led me inside. The moment the doors to the main banquet hall were pushed open, my face fell. 7 This was the hotel where Arthur was holding his engagement party. On the stage, Arthur was already exchanging rings. Standing opposite him was the girl I had seen at the club. The girl gazed up at Arthur with a shy, loving expression. But Arthur’s brow was deeply furrowed. He kept glancing toward the hall entrance. When our eyes finally met, Arthur paused, then his brow unfurled, and a smirk curled his lips. The MC standing beside them asked: “May I ask the groom-to-be, are you willing to stand by your bride-to-be’s side for every important moment in the future?” Arthur glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, the smile on his face growing wider: “Of course.” He slipped the ring onto Mia’s finger, and the guests below the stage erupted in cheers. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Mia’s cheeks grew even redder, but she proactively stood on her tiptoes and leaned toward Arthur. Arthur didn’t refuse. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her passionately amidst the cheering crowd. I turned to look at Lily. She looked guilty but still urged me on: “Chloe, hurry up and get up there! Steal him back! Arthur is your man!” I didn’t say a word. I just stared at her quietly. Lily and I met in college. We went to class together, ate together, and hung out during breaks. I truly considered her my friend. But now, the doors to the banquet hall had been closed. A few of Arthur’s closest friends were blocking the exit. It was obvious who they were blocking. “Chloe, I just couldn’t stand seeing you bullied like this, so I tricked you! I wanted to bring you here so you could vent your anger! I’ll go up on stage and help you get revenge right now!” Without looking at me, Lily hurriedly made a move to storm the stage. I stood my ground and looked at her calmly: “Lily, Mia… she’s your cousin, isn’t she?” I remembered Lily mentioning in college that she had a cousin. “What? Did your cousin ask you to bring me here so I would make a scene, embarrass myself, and make her look better?” As if I had struck a nerve, Lily stood frozen on the spot. I let out a scoff: “That disgusting excuse for a man… just because your cousin treats him like a treasure doesn’t mean anyone else does.” I glanced around the room. There were top-shelf liquors, fine beverages, and exquisite pastries laid out everywhere. They definitely put some thought into this. Since everyone was so determined to get me here, and I was already here, I wasn’t going to just stand around. I found a seat, grabbed a pastry, and started eating. While eating, I looked around. Asher was on a business trip and wasn’t here today. Lily, meanwhile, had angrily stormed over to me, pointing a finger and accusing: “Chloe, watch what you say! I think you’re just experiencing sour grapes! My future brother-in-law and my cousin are deeply in love! You’re just jealous, that’s why you’re slandering him!” I scoffed. Just as I was about to say something, a tearful female voice interrupted. The engagement ceremony on stage had ended, and Mia had somehow made her way over to me. The moment our eyes met, she threw herself at me and grabbed my hands: “Ms. Vance, please don’t blame Arthur! He has amnesia! He doesn’t remember you, he only loves me! It’s not his true intention! If you’re angry, you can take it all out on me! You can hit me, you can curse me! “I… I’ll even kneel for you! As long as you don’t blame Arthur!” Mia moved fast. Her hands clamped tightly around my wrists, her nails digging deeply into my flesh. The pain made me instinctively shake her off. I didn’t use much force, but she screamed and collapsed to the floor. The next second, I was shoved hard. I was wearing high heels today. Pushed off balance, I twisted my ankle severely. An agonizing pain shot through me, so intense it almost brought tears to my eyes. Arthur glared at me with pure rage: “Chloe, you’ve gone too far! Who gave you the right to bully Mia at our engagement party?! Do you think I don’t exist?! “Apologize to Mia right now!” The guests in the hall had been watching me ever since I arrived. Now, they all gathered around with a “grab the popcorn” attitude, eager for a show. Someone spoke up: “Ms. Vance, you and Mr. Sterling are in the past. It’s over. Crashing his engagement party with Ms. Mia… isn’t that a bit inappropriate?” “Exactly! People need to have some self-awareness. He doesn’t love you anymore. Forcing it won’t work. Besides, a forced melon isn’t sweet!” Mia lay in Arthur’s arms, her eyes red as she sobbed. She tugged at Arthur’s sleeve and spoke with immense understanding: “Arthur, it’s okay. I don’t blame Ms. Vance… It’s completely normal for her to feel sad and hurt seeing you with me. It’s normal for her to blame me and hate me, as long as she doesn’t resent you…” “This isn’t your fault.” After comforting Mia, Arthur turned to me with a cold face: “Chloe, no matter what our relationship was before, it ended two years ago. The woman I love now is Mia. If you bully her, I won’t let you off! Apologize to her right now!” From an angle where the others couldn’t see, Mia shot me a provocative smile. I smiled back faintly. “Sure. “I apologize.” The next second, I slapped Mia squarely across the face. After that, thinking it looked a bit unsymmetrical, I slapped the other side too. Symmetry. Mia screamed and burst into tears. Furious, Arthur raised his hand to hit me, but his friends immediately stepped in and held him back. They lowered their voices and warned him: “Don’t go too far, man! Otherwise, when you ‘recover’ your memory, you won’t be able to fix this! “Mia can’t compare to Chloe. Don’t lose your head!” Arthur looked like he wanted to say more, but one of his friends suddenly shouted: “Asher! You’re back! Come quick! Chloe twisted her ankle. You take her home first!” I turned around to see Asher walking toward us from a distance.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391798”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After I died, I discovered that my husband, Arthur Sterling, could still see me. He wept tears of joy, saying that we could be together forever. But later, he started coming home less and less. Then, I saw the young woman following him—she looked exactly like I used to. One day, that young woman suddenly fell ill with a strange, incurable disease. A spiritual master claimed that a malevolent spirit was harming her. And Arthur… turned his head and looked directly at me, while I floated there in absolute shock. 1 I still hadn’t fully processed what was happening. I shook my head at him frantically. The others couldn’t hear me or see me. “Arthur, it’s not me! You know me better than anyone!” At the same time, Chloe Sinclair, lying in bed, began to whimper softly. “Mr. Sterling, it hurts so much…” Arthur didn’t say a word. He just stared intensely at me floating in mid-air. His eyes were filled with suspicion and resentment. I remembered what the master had just said: “This young lady is likely being haunted by a malevolent spirit.” Chloe looked terrified, crying and shrinking into Arthur’s embrace. “Mr. Sterling, I’ve never done anything wrong in my entire life! Why would a dark spirit want to hurt me?” Arthur comforted her, “Chloe, this isn’t your fault.” I didn’t understand what he meant at first. But now I did. He meant it was my fault—the “malevolent spirit’s” fault. Chloe asked the master, “Master, is there any way to suppress this spirit?” The master pulled out several talisman papers and a wooden sword. Chloe took the wooden sword, waving it around fearfully. Whether intentional or not, the tip of the sword pointed directly at me. In that split second, I felt an agonizing, tearing pain rip through my soul. I couldn’t dodge. I was paralyzed in mid-air. Even without a physical body, the agony was so intense I felt like I would dissipate into nothingness at any moment. And Arthur just watched me, completely indifferent. Chloe dropped the wooden sword, picked up the talismans, and looked at Arthur. “Mr. Sterling, could you please help me stick these talismans around the room?” I watched Arthur walk over and take the talismans from her. Then he smiled and gently patted Chloe’s head. “Of course.” Once the talismans were placed in all four corners of the room, my already weakened soul was violently blasted out of the house. This was our marital home. The home Arthur and I had shared for seven years. I stumbled upright, trying to walk back through the front door, but it was useless. The lingering pain from the wooden sword throbbed through me. After failing repeatedly, I collapsed and curled into a ball in the corner. The front door opened. I scrambled up, overjoyed. “Arthur…” Arthur looked at me, his expression incredibly complex. “Mia, don’t ever come inside again.” “Maybe you didn’t do it on purpose.” “But her health is incredibly fragile. Stop harming her.” I didn’t know what to say. It’s hard to describe how those words made me feel. The man standing in front of me felt nothing like the Arthur who had promised to love me forever. A year ago, when I died, he cried so agonizingly. Why had everything changed? “But this is my home! Our home! Why can’t I go inside?” “Because you’re dead!” “Because you’re a wandering spirit now! You don’t have to worry about anything, but she can’t handle it! Your presence is making her sick!” “Mia Harrison, you were never this unreasonable when you were alive.” As Arthur turned to go back inside, I could only murmur one sentence. “I didn’t harm her.” He paused for a second, then shut the door firmly. I wasn’t entirely fearless either. I don’t know if he noticed, but my soul had become slightly more transparent. 2 I used to watch horror movies where people died, became ghosts, and suddenly had all these incredible, terrifying powers. They weren’t afraid of anything. They could scare people to death. But after my own accidental death, I realized I wasn’t one of them. I had absolutely no powers. Except for Arthur, I couldn’t make anyone else see me. In the very beginning, I felt like I could dissipate at any given moment. Because my body would randomly fade into transparency. Whenever Arthur noticed and cried, begging me not to leave him, the fading would stop, and I would solidify again. But today, he probably didn’t notice. I huddled in the corner, laughing bitterly. I wasn’t the only wandering spirit in this area; there were plenty of other strange, dark things lurking around. Right now, I couldn’t even maintain a solid form. I had no idea how I was going to survive the night. When did things between Arthur and me get this bad? Probably starting shortly before he began staying out all night. Before, I could follow him anywhere. But that night, I suddenly found an invisible barrier blocking me. Maybe it was because right before he left, he had said, “Don’t follow me today.” I remembered his friends tricking him into going to the psychiatric ward at the hospital that day. His friends thought my death had caused a psychotic break, because he was constantly talking to thin air. Later, paparazzi caught him—Arthur Sterling, CEO of Sterling Group—leaving the psychiatric ward. The rumor was that he had developed severe schizophrenia. It caused a massive scandal. For days, Arthur felt like everyone was secretly laughing at him. I still remember his absolute devastation when I died, and his hysterical joy when he first realized he could see me. He was practically out of his mind with happiness. He said the heavens were so moved by our love that they granted us this miracle so we could stay together forever. Looking back now, that “heaven-moving” love had clearly become a burden to him. He didn’t want the world to view him as a mentally ill freak anymore. So he aggressively minimized the amount of time we spent together outside, and eventually, our conversations dwindled to almost nothing. Soon after, he brought Chloe home. I had no idea who she was. All I knew was that she sweetly called him “Mr. Sterling,” and they could interact openly and normally. And I couldn’t. Long before she fell ill, it had been ages since Arthur and I had a real conversation. “Well, well, isn’t it the little canary from the big mansion?” “What, got kicked out?” “I told you a long time ago, the living and the dead don’t mix. Why don’t you come play with me—” There weren’t many wandering spirits in this area, but the few that existed were incredibly vicious. I had personally witnessed one of them tear another spirit into literal shreds. I stood up in terror and screamed for Arthur. “Arthur! I’m so scared…” A pale, rotting hand reached out to grab me. “Aren’t your man and his new toy madly in love right now? I saw them making out in his car just the other day. Tsk, the guy has no balls, having to act all proper as soon as he steps out of the car.” “You’re already dead. Why are you still bothering him? Let him find his true love!” I refused to believe it. I only knew that Arthur had sworn he would never, ever betray me. But the harder I pounded on the door, the louder the romantic music inside played. They were dancing to the music, and Chloe was laughing brightly in his arms. Maybe he would post about it on social media. Maybe his friends would congratulate him on finally moving on from the grief of losing his wife. Then he would become a normal person again, instead of a lunatic haunted by the stubborn ghost of his dead wife. 3 When the sun came up, those dark things would vanish. I wasn’t afraid of the sunlight. But I was so incredibly weak I could barely move an inch. They loved to tear spirits apart for fun. But I was different from the other wandering spirits. Every time I was torn apart, I miraculously reformed. They found it fascinating. In the past, I spent every night in Arthur’s bed. They couldn’t get in there. From now on, I probably wouldn’t have that protection. I felt incredibly lost. I had no idea how I was going to survive every single night from now on. The front door suddenly opened, and Arthur rushed out, carrying Chloe in his arms. I huddled in the corner, watching him silently. My body felt a little more transparent. “Hurry! To the hospital!” He didn’t acknowledge my gaze, only shooting me a deep, resentful frown as he loaded Chloe into the car. That single look was loaded with emotion. Mostly blame. But I didn’t even understand what I had done wrong. I just wanted him to stay with me, to ask me if I was hurting. But maybe that was never going to happen again. When Arthur returned from the hospital, I was still huddled in the corner. “Mia. We need to talk.” My voice was hoarse as I offered a faint, bitter laugh. “Are we talking out here?” He clearly had no intention of letting me back inside. “Let’s just talk here. If you go inside, she might get sick again when she gets back.” “There are some things we need to make perfectly clear right now.” Before he could start his speech, I cut him off. “I never harmed her.” Arthur instantly exploded in absolute fury. He stepped forward and threw a punch straight through my ethereal body, his fist slamming into the brick wall behind me. “Then tell me why, ever since she moved in here, she’s been constantly suffering from bizarre, unexplainable illnesses?!” “Don’t tell me it’s all just a coincidence! Mia, I am not a fucking idiot!” His eyes were bloodshot, his emotions completely volatile. “You know perfectly well that everyone thinks I’m insane. She risked her entire reputation just to help me!” “She’s the only one who actually believes I can see you!” I shot upright in shock. “You told her you can see me?!” Arthur clearly didn’t think that was the main issue. “If she wasn’t willing to believe me and stand by my side, my personal reputation and my company’s stock would have plummeted! Do you understand that?!” “Everyone would think I’m a completely deranged lunatic!” I stared at him calmly, feeling a mix of helpless panic and deep resignation. “Arthur… you fell in love with her, didn’t you?” I just laid the brutal truth out in the open. But it only made him more hysterical. “Why is your mind always so filthy and paranoid?!” “I promised I would never betray you, and that hasn’t changed! Is your paranoid jealousy the only reason you’re trying to hurt her?!” I was too exhausted to even repeat myself. “So, what do you want me to do?” He let out a heavy, ragged breath. “Leave for a while. Stay away from me for now.” I asked him, “If I leave, and she still gets sick, proving it wasn’t me… will you let me come back?” He fell silent. He didn’t say a single word. I think I already knew the answer. 4 If I was going to leave, I had to do it now. If I waited until nightfall when those things came out again, I might never be able to leave. I knew perfectly well that once Arthur made a decision, begging him was completely useless. And I wasn’t going to beg. I broke eye contact and struggled to stand up, preparing to walk away. “You’re leaving just like that?!” “You were probably already sick of this too, right? I just gave you the perfect excuse.” My clean break seemed to infuriate him even more. I didn’t want to say anything else. My soul felt incredibly heavy, and every step was agonizingly difficult, but I refused to linger for even a second longer. I heard footsteps rushing up behind me. But then they abruptly stopped. Followed immediately by a violent fit of coughing. “Mr. Sterling? What’s wrong?” “We need to take you to the hospital to see Ms. Sinclair anyway. Why don’t you get a checkup while we’re there?” “Could it be… that dark spirit wasn’t satisfied with hurting Ms. Sinclair, and now it’s trying to hurt you too?” At this point, I had absolutely no desire to defend myself. It was entirely pointless. I didn’t care what else Arthur had to say. If he wanted to believe those lies, explaining myself a million times wouldn’t change a thing. After leaving the villa district, I wandered aimlessly. Being a wandering spirit was a new experience. I didn’t know why I ended up like this. I was dead, but I couldn’t move on to the afterlife. Before Arthur explicitly told me to leave, I physically couldn’t move far from him. Was it really because, like he said, his love had moved the heavens, binding me to him? Thinking about my current state, that theory was hilariously tragic. Where was I supposed to go now? I didn’t know. All I knew was that my body was becoming increasingly transparent. It actually hadn’t been that long since I died. But I had already forgotten so many things. Suddenly, I lost consciousness entirely. When I opened my eyes again, I was inside a temple. Even though I had no specific memory of it, being there triggered an overwhelming, inexplicable sense of familiarity. There was no one else in the temple. Just me, and a single oil lamp. The wick was burning weakly; the flame was incredibly dim. But when the wind blew, the tiny flame didn’t even flicker. Memories suddenly flooded my mind, crashing over me like a tidal wave. “I ask for nothing else. I only pray that my wife survives this, recovers quickly, and returns to me.” “If possible, I want to live with her, and die with her.” “I refuse to live in this world without her.” A man had climbed the massive stone staircase to the peak, performing a full prostration—kneeling and touching his forehead to the ground—on every single step. When he finally stood up, his forehead was bruised, swollen, and bleeding. I remembered now. That was probably the year Arthur loved me the most. He was giving a speech on stage at his company’s annual gala when a massive chandelier above him suddenly broke loose. No one noticed. I sprinted forward and shoved him out of the way, taking the full impact myself and falling into a deep coma. While I was comatose, I occasionally drifted into semi-consciousness, hearing Arthur’s desperate murmurs. He said that if I didn’t pull through, he was fully prepared to die with me. In my subconscious dreams, I learned that Arthur’s profound devotion had manifested a silent “Eternal Flame” in this temple. The wick was forged from our intertwined souls. If one soul disappeared from the other’s side, the other would die. I remember thinking: I can’t let him die. My sheer will to live dragged me out of the coma. Back then, I thought an Eternal Flame like this was an incredibly beautiful thing. As long as we loved each other, nothing could ever separate us. Standing here today, floating as a spirit, I learned another secret. The reason I remained on earth wasn’t because Arthur’s love moved the heavens. It was because, shortly after I died, I begged the Judge of the Underworld to let me go back. 5 Because if my soul vanished from his side, he would die. I traded my reincarnation, binding myself to an eternal clerical position in the Underworld, just to return to his side. My original plan was to stay with him until the natural end of his life. The Judge told me he didn’t believe in absolute, unwavering love. He said if I could bring the Eternal Flame back to the Underworld completely intact after Arthur passed away from old age, proving him wrong, he would grant me a cushy position guarding the Bridge of Forgetfulness. Time flows much faster in the Underworld, so I would frequently be able to see Arthur’s soul passing through the reincarnation cycle. But if the Eternal Flame extinguished, Arthur would die, but he would still enter the reincarnation cycle. I, however, having lingered in the mortal realm for too long, would face complete soul annihilation. At the time, I thought the Judge was just being hopelessly cynical. Looking back now, I was the one who was hopelessly delusional. I died, so my memories faded. But what about Arthur? The flame of this Eternal Lamp was already incredibly dim. My soul had become almost entirely transparent. This proved that our love was practically non-existent. The Judge’s voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere. “You can make your choice now.” “Take this dying Eternal Flame back to the Underworld with you, or stay and work in the Underworld, though your soul will be permanently damaged and frequently weak.” “As for him, he will die in an accident shortly after you leave.” “If this Eternal Flame extinguishes while you’re still in the mortal realm, he will just suffer a tragic end in this life, but your soul will be instantly annihilated.” I glanced down at the wedding ring on my transparent finger. Strange. It was still there. I thought about all the beautiful moments Arthur and I had shared. I never doubted the love he once had for me. That love gave me the courage to sacrifice everything. But this time— “My Lord, I will go back with you.” “Before I go, may I return to say a final goodbye to him?” The Judge’s voice didn’t respond for a long time. “I strongly advise against returning.” “A man whose heart has changed is no different from a rabid beast. He operates with zero logic or reason.” “Fine. If you insist on saying goodbye, go. I will process your employment intake paperwork. When it’s time, I’ll send a Reaper to guide you back.” The voice faded. I floated in the temple, feeling a dull, hollow ache where my heart used to be. The girls who chose to drink the Forgetfulness Soup and reincarnate were right. Never, ever believe that someone’s love for you will never change. No one can promise that. I was just a fool. I drifted slowly back toward the city. The closer I got to the villa district, the more chaotic my thoughts became. Suddenly, an invisible, ethereal net slammed down, binding me completely. “I caught the dark spirit!” “Mr. Sterling, this is the entity that caused you to violently cough up blood! It’s a vicious, malevolent spirit! It’s specifically attached to you, intent on harming you. Once it drains enough of your life force, it will become unstoppable!” Something within the net paralyzed me, making it impossible to move a single muscle. “Arthur… I just came to…” I looked up at Arthur and met a gaze so incredibly, terrifyingly cold it froze my soul. “Mia. I never, in my wildest nightmares, imagined you would exploit my love for you to harm me like this.”

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When I was suffering from severe morning sickness and incontinence, Arthur was at a party playing a cherry-stem-tying kissing game with his female assistant. Even as I vomited until my stomach bled, he remained tangled up with her, deeply entwined and refusing to separate. On my way home, I was in a car accident. Just as I was lifted onto a stretcher, Arthur coldly dragged me off: “You’re tough. Stop wasting medical resources.” With that, he carried his crying female assistant onto the stretcher instead. When we arrived at the hospital, everyone rushed the assistant to the emergency room. I was the only one who walked quietly to the gynecology desk: “Hello. I’d like to schedule an abortion.” “I don’t want the baby in my stomach anymore.” … A second after I changed into the hospital gown, Arthur stormed into the room, furious. He threw a red string right at my face: “Chloe, who gave you permission to force this unlucky junk on me?!” Arthur didn’t believe in gods or spirits. Even the peace amulet I had acquired by climbing a thousand steps and bowing with each one was sneered at and tossed into the fire. I picked up the “marriage thread” that had fallen on me and said calmly: “I didn’t give this to you.” Hearing this, Arthur immediately snatched the red string back, hastily tying it around his wrist. I knew the red string was a gift from his assistant, Mia. It was a plea for a lifetime of monogamous love with Arthur. Thinking of this, I grabbed his hand. Ignoring his disgusted, defensive glare, I took the loose knot and pulled it tight. The icy chill of my fingertips made Arthur momentarily zone out. He asked me why I was wearing a hospital gown. I answered lightly: “I’m having a minor procedure later.” Arthur’s brow furrowed. He was just about to accuse me of faking an illness for attention. But the next second, a nurse walked in to draw my blood. Arthur opened his mouth, about to ask the nurse what was wrong with me, but his phone rang at the exact right moment. It was a video call from Mia. The girl whined coquettishly, complaining about how scary the hospital was at night. Hearing her, Arthur didn’t even spare me a glance as he strode out of the room. He bumped into the nurse on his way out, causing the needle to slip and blood to well up. He didn’t turn back when he heard my groan of pain. At that moment, the doctor walked in with the surgical consent form. Ignoring all the risk warnings, I signed my name without blinking. Half an hour later, the surgery was a success. As soon as I got off the operating table, I received a text from Arthur: [Wait for me at the hospital entrance.] It was snowing heavily outside. Dressed in thin clothes, I sat on a plastic chair and waited for two whole hours. He never showed up. Two nurses walked past me, laughing and gossiping about what they saw in the ER: “I’ve been working here for years, and I’ve never seen a man dote on his wife like that.” “Right? He held her and coaxed her through the entire examination. She just had a red mark on her leg, and he immediately mobilized a helicopter to transfer her to a top-tier hospital.” Hearing this, I opened our chat window and noticed Arthur had changed his profile picture. It was Nick Wilde from Zootopia wearing sunglasses. A perfect matching pair with Mia’s Judy Hopps. I exited WeChat and opened a ticketing app. Due to the weather, the earliest flight back to my hometown wasn’t for two days. I placed the order, paid, and confirmed the ticket. I walked out of the hospital and went home alone. At 3:00 AM, Arthur returned late, pushed open the bedroom door, and lay down beside me. In the pitch black, he reached out, wanting to touch my pregnant belly. I simply rolled over, giving him my back. Arthur clicked his tongue impatiently, got up, walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut with a loud BANG. In our nine years together, whenever he showed even the slightest hint of displeasure… I would be consumed with anxiety, chasing after him, lowering my head, and begging for peace. But tonight, when Arthur came out of the shower, he found me still lying in bed, completely unmoving. “Stop faking it.” Dropping those words, Arthur left the master bedroom with a cold face and didn’t return. The next morning, I found a wine glass stained with lipstick on the living room coffee table. I didn’t wake Arthur up and hysterically interrogate him about everything and nothing, like I would have in the past. I leisurely finished frying some egg rolls and sat down at the dining table just as Arthur woke up and said: “Don’t wait for me for dinner tonight. I have a business dinner.” He opened the fridge, chugged two mouthfuls of ice water, and… Suddenly found it strange that I neither nagged him about cold water hurting his stomach nor asked who was attending the dinner. Through the glass kitchen door, Arthur frowned at me: “Chloe, are you even listening to me?” Swallowing my food cleanly, I gave a noncommittal “Mhm” and continued eating. Seeing this, he tossed his black overcoat at me. “Your birthday present.” The coat, reeking of sweet, cloying perfume, perfectly covered my now-flat stomach. Under his gaze, I fished a gift box out of the coat pocket. I opened the box. Inside was a diamond ring. Before I could say a word, Arthur’s face darkened, and he snatched the ring back. He said: “You grabbed the wrong one. Yours is in the other pocket.” The other pocket held an emerald brooch. I just took one look at it before pushing it back toward him. Then I said politely: “The brooch is beautiful, but it’s a pity I don’t have any clothes that match it. Besides, my birthday was three months ago. You might as well give this to Mia, too.” He was speechless for a good while. Arthur said reluctantly: “There’s a jewelry auction in a couple of days. You can come with me.” This was the first time he had asked me to be his plus-one in a long while. For the past six months, Mia had been the one accompanying him to all his social gatherings. Even during yacht vacations with his childhood friends, the two of them appeared arm-in-arm in the group photos. Recalling this, I felt utterly bored with it all. “No need. I don’t need anything.” “Are you sure?” I nodded: “It’s best if you have Mia accompany you.” My genuine words were met with an instantly blackened expression from Arthur: “Chloe, go to the bathroom and look in the mirror right now. Take a good look at how pathetic your jealous, bitter face is.” In the past, if he said that, I would definitely have gotten into a massive fight with him. But now, I couldn’t be bothered to argue a single syllable. Just as I was about to get up and go back to my room, Arthur’s phone rang. It was a custom ringtone for Mia. The girl was crying hysterically, saying she forgot her keys when she took out the trash. What should I do, Arthur? “You little dummy. Be a good girl, stay right there, and don’t run around. I’m coming over to bring you the spare key now.” Hanging up, Arthur immediately turned to leave. But I called out to stop him. “That scarf you asked me to knit last week is finished and hanging on the coat rack. Don’t forget to take it to her.” Arthur’s expression shifted slightly. His mouth moved as if he were about to say something. But then Mia sent another voice message. She meowed like a little cat, begging her “master” to bring her a bubble tea on his way. Because of this, Arthur emptied the shopping bag hanging on the rack, stuffed the scarf inside, and left with a smirk on his face. I glanced at the baby clothes discarded on the floor, stood up, and walked into the study. Ignoring the framed photo of Arthur and Mia on the mahogany desk. I moved with clear purpose toward the safe. I tried Arthur’s birthday, then mine. Incorrect. I tried our anniversary. Still incorrect. It wasn’t until I entered Mia’s birthday… The lock finally clicked open. As I took out my ID and passport, two movie tickets were dragged out with them. They were the ticket stubs from my very first date with Arthur. I tore the memories to shreds and tossed them in the trash. I returned to the bedroom and started packing my personal belongings. Towards evening, Arthur called and told me to hire a courier to deliver a document for him. A blizzard was raging outside. I wrapped myself in a mink coat and went out to deliver it personally. Pushing open the restaurant door, I walked right in as Arthur and Mia were drinking cross-armed, like a newlywed couple. Because of my sudden appearance, the cheering and jeering in the restaurant abruptly stopped. Arthur glared at me, his face full of annoyance. The others watched with amusement, waiting for me to scream and throw a fit. But to everyone’s surprise, I wasn’t angry at all. I handed the document to Arthur and simply said: “Can I borrow your car keys for a second? I left something in your car.” Hearing this, Mia pulled a set of Porsche keys out of her bag, stuck her tongue out at me, and said: “I’m so sorry, Sis~ Because I love sleeping in, I’m always late for work. So Arthur just gave me his car to drive.” “Who’s your ‘Sis’? Don’t call people that, you little dummy.” Arthur’s eyes were full of indulgence as he wiped a drop of wine from the corner of Mia’s mouth. I played along with his words and said: “Mr. Sterling and I are not married. Please don’t misunderstand, Ms. Mia.” With that, I took the keys, turned to leave, but Arthur suddenly grabbed me, his expression bizarre: “Chloe, ever since you got pregnant, you’ve wanted to throw up at the mere smell of alcohol. Why are you…” I was just about to respond when Mia suddenly lost all color in her face and hugged Arthur’s arm: “Arthur, is Chloe trying to find that pearl necklace in the car? “Um… but that necklace was lost by this clumsy little me! What should we do?” The necklace Mia was talking about was an heirloom left to me by my grandmother. I heard Arthur softly comfort Mia, saying it was just a cheap necklace, lost is lost, she shouldn’t worry about it. I set the car keys down and looked at Mia without joy or anger: “He’s right. It’s just a cheap necklace I’ve worn for nine years. Since you like it so much, consider it a gift.” Walking out of the restaurant, I was about to hail a cab when Arthur chased after me. He shoved a takeout container of nourishing fish porridge into my hands, speaking with a tone of charity: “Your prenatal checkup is tomorrow. I’ll go with you.” I lied casually: “You remembered the date wrong. The checkup is the day after tomorrow.” Arthur wanted to argue, but then he saw Mia standing at the restaurant entrance. He immediately turned back, took her hands, and blew on them to keep her warm. I watched them go back inside. I, who never ate fish, fed the porridge to a stray cat and went home. That night, Arthur never came home. And I didn’t call him even once. At 5:00 PM the next day, I had just put on my coat when Arthur suddenly came home and dragged me into his car. Inside the Sterling family estate, Arthur pulled me in front of his parents: “Mom, Dad, this is Chloe.” After years of a long-distance, drawn-out relationship, Arthur was finally bringing me to meet his parents. But my reaction left him sorely disappointed. “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, something urgent has come up. Please excuse me, I must leave.” As soon as the words left my mouth, Arthur clamped his hand around my wrist, applying silent, crushing pressure. “Mom, Dad, she’s just joking with you. You go prepare dinner; I’ll show her around and get her familiar with the place first.” I was forcefully dragged to a top-floor bedroom to begin the so-called “tour.” My constant checking of the time on my phone quickly drew Arthur’s ire: “Chloe, you’ve always begged to see the room I grew up in. Now that you’re here, why are you suddenly acting mute?” “Hmm? It’s very nice.” My evasive answer made Arthur’s brow furrow deeply. “You keep looking at your phone. Is there something interesting on it?” “No.” Even with my denial, his face remained tight. He snatched my phone and held it up to his face. The screen repeatedly showed “Face ID Failed.” Arthur asked in surprise why it couldn’t recognize him. I was just about to answer when a crisp sound echoed from the window sill behind me. The tall Arthur saw something, dropped my phone without a word, and simply vanished. Ten minutes later, following a string of silvery, girlish giggles, I found Mia in the estate’s back garden, wearing fresh flowers in her hair. She was being carefully supported by Arthur, playing a childish game of walking on tiptoes across a wooden plank. “Arthur, you have to hold me steady… Ah! Arthur, save me!” While playing, Mia’s foot slipped, and with a flushed face, she fell right into Arthur’s chest. They both froze for a second, then exchanged a flawlessly synchronized, knowing smile. The smile in Arthur’s eyes vanished completely the moment he noticed me. “Huh? Chloe, why are you here?” Mia looked at me with pure innocence, blinked a few times, and then began weakly pounding Arthur’s chest with her delicate fists: “Oh, I know! You bad boy, you finally decided to bring your ugly duckling wife home to meet the parents!” “Congratulations, Chloe!” While her mouth offered congratulations, her voice was tinged with a sob, eliciting Arthur’s pained sympathy: “It’s just one dinner, what’s there to congratulate, you silly little fool.” After comforting Mia, the look Arthur gave me was absolute ice: “Is dinner ready?” Before I could speak, dozens of long snakes suddenly dropped from the tree branches above us. As I fell to the ground in terror, Mia let out an ear-piercing scream. Seeing this, Arthur didn’t even spare me a glance; he grabbed Mia tight and fled frantically. It wasn’t until animal control arrived to catch the snakes that Arthur finally remembered me. He returned to the tree, searching high and low, only to be finally told by the front gate security guard that I had left long ago. Late at night, in the airport departure lounge. Waiting to board, my phone vibrated non-stop. It wasn’t until the very last minute before takeoff that I finally answered the call. As soon as the call connected, Arthur frantically demanded to know where I was. He had clearly gone home and found it empty. I didn’t answer him directly, only saying: “None of your business.” He froze for a second, his voice tinged with anger: “A pregnant woman throwing a tantrum is bad for the baby. Stop being so willful. Give me your address, I’m coming to pick you up right now…” Before he could finish his sentence, the sound of a wet, sticky kiss on a cheek came through the phone. Followed by Mia’s soft giggle. Arthur cleared his throat. His tone abruptly shifted, stating coldly: “Something came up at the company. Take a cab home yourself.” After saying that, he couldn’t help but add: “Text me when you get home.” After he hung up. I opened our chat and, exactly as he requested, sent a message: [Arthur, let’s break up. I sincerely wish you and Mia a long, happy life together.] The moment the message showed as “Read,” I blocked all his contact info and turned off my phone… “Auntie Chloe, here! Over here!” As soon as I got off the plane, I spotted my little niece enthusiastically waving her hand in the crowd. I scooped her up with a beaming smile and said to my sister: “It’s the middle of the night. I told you guys you didn’t need to pick me up.” “You think I wanted to? It’s this precious niece of yours who wouldn’t stop crying to see her silly auntie.” My sister reached out and hugged me. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of my flat stomach, her eyes filling with heartache. Just as I was about to comfort her, she preemptively pinched my cheek, fiercely complaining that I was as skinny as a rail. “Starting tomorrow, a bowl of fish maw and pork trotter soup every single day. Even if you hate it, you have to drink it. Non-negotiable.” “Okay, okay, whatever you say. You are my one and only sister, after all.” I sniffled, holding my niece, got into my sister’s car, and the three of us drove home, laughing and chatting. Even though it was 4:00 AM, my parents were still waiting in the living room. Only after confirming my sister and I were safely home, and watching me drink my favorite childhood honey iced tea, did they finally smile and go back to their room to sleep. After washing up, I lay in bed. Despite my usual insomnia, I fell asleep deeply within minutes. No pain, no more hesitation. Because I had finally returned to my true home. On my third day back, my parents booked a private room at a restaurant and invited all our relatives to welcome me home. Just as my welcome-home dinner was in full swing, filled with laughter and joy, a delivery driver arrived at the door and called out my name. My niece, who often fetches takeout for her mom, trotted over, grabbed the package, and skipped back to me. Having already learned how to read, she said in her sweet, babyish voice: “Auntie, it’s from a Mr. Sterling…” After thinking for a long while, I finally opened the box. Inside was a brand new smartphone. Just as I was thoroughly confused by this, the phone suddenly rang. Faced with the concerned looks from my family, I instinctively picked up the phone and walked to a quiet corner. I hesitated for a good while before pressing answer. Arthur’s voice was as cold as ever: “Chloe, why didn’t you tell me you went back to your parents’ house?” I asked him back: “Why should I tell you?” After a moment of silence, Arthur deliberately softened his tone and said: “I tried calling you from several different numbers, but your phone was always off… I was worried about you.” Having specifically set my phone to reject all unknown numbers, I blinked: “Just because of that, you used illegal methods to track me down, and even had a cheap phone delivered right in front of my family?” I couldn’t help but ask: “Arthur, are you mentally ill?” In all our years together, he had never received a single word of criticism or insult from me. Even through the phone, I could imagine just how ugly his expression must be right now. But despite that, he didn’t hang up. “Chloe, you know my personality. My patience is limited. You’d better know when to quit while you’re ahead…” Interrupting his nonsense, I asked impatiently what exactly he wanted to say. Taking a deep breath, Arthur said in a low voice: “For the sake of the baby, I won’t hold this little runaway stunt against you. I’ve already bought you a ticket back for next week. Mia and I will pick you up at the airport.” Hearing this, I almost burst out laughing: “What baby? The baby in my stomach has been gone for a long time.” I heard the sound of something shattering on the floor from Arthur’s end: “Chloe! How dare you joke about our child like that?!” Lowering my eyes, I pulled at the corner of my mouth and said: “I’m not joking. The baby is really gone. And I truly want to break up with you…” Before I could finish, Arthur sneered with utter disdain: “What do you mean the baby is gone? What do you mean you ‘truly’ want to break up? You just want to force me to admit I was wrong, don’t you? Fine, I was wrong. I was wrong to let you take a cab home alone just because something came up at work. Ms. Vance, I apologize to you. Are you satisfied now?” Faced with his passive-aggressive sarcasm, I felt absolutely nothing inside, only a profound sense of boredom: “I don’t need your apology. You just need to understand one thing: we are broken up.” With that, I hung up immediately, popped out the SIM card, and threw both the phone and the card into the trash. It was already 11:00 PM by the time the dinner ended. A close high school friend I hadn’t seen in years texted me, inviting me out for a late-night drink. I immediately went home, changed into a very form-fitting long dress, and happily went to meet her.

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My son and I were kidnapped. The kidnappers live-streamed our ordeal online, threatening to chop my son into pieces and feed him to the dogs if the ransom wasn’t paid. Instantly, the entire internet was searching for my husband. But what they didn’t know was that at that exact moment, trending on social media, the billionaire CEO officially announcing his relationship with an award-winning actress—the picture of a happy family of three—was my husband. My son’s father. The two trending topics side-by-side were a hilariously cruel joke. Later, out of a twisted sense of pity, the kidnappers only took one of my son’s hands. Dragging his severed left arm, he crawled all the way back home, only to run straight into my husband celebrating the birthday of his ‘first love’s’ child. My husband frowned, looking down at my son’s curled-up, bleeding body with freezing, emotionless eyes. “You really are Mia’s kid. Just like your mother, all you know how to do is play the victim.” My son looked up, using his only remaining hand to tug weakly at my husband’s pant leg. “Mister… can you please lend me some money… so I can bury my mom?” 1 Twenty-three hours into our agonizing torture at the hands of the kidnappers. Arthur Sterling, the wealthiest man in the city, was currently celebrating the sixth birthday of his first love’s child. I had dialed his number eighty-eight times. Every single time, it went straight to voicemail. The kidnapper, furious and impatient, grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the concrete floor to my son, his face contorted with rage. “Isn’t Arthur Sterling your husband?! Why the hell won’t he answer his phone?!” “Are you intentionally dialing the wrong number just to stall for time?!” He viciously yanked a handful of hair straight from my scalp. The agonizing pain twisted my face into a grimace. Tossing the bloody clump of hair onto the floor, the kidnapper sneered, spat directly in my face, and threatened: “I am giving you one last chance. If that phone doesn’t connect this time, don’t blame me for getting creative.” He pointed a finger at my son, who was pale and trembling with terror, making it horrifyingly clear what would happen next. The next victim would be my six-year-old baby. The excruciating pain made my entire body shake uncontrollably, but I didn’t dare fight back. I had to protect my child. With trembling hands, I dialed Arthur’s number for the eighty-ninth time. Ring… Ring… “Hello?” Arthur’s deep, magnetic voice finally came through the speaker. The moment I heard his voice, tears instantly flooded my eyes. A chaotic mix of overwhelming relief and paralyzing terror made me blurt out frantically: “Arthur, please, we’ve been kidnapped, you have to—” Before I could even finish the sentence, the man on the other end cut me off with obvious, dripping disgust: “Enough, Mia. I don’t care what pathetic act you’re pulling this time, but leave Leo out of it!” “If you have even a shred of conscience left, stop using your son as a prop to get my attention.” With that, he hung up without a second’s hesitation. The kidnapper’s expression darkened, his predatory gaze locking onto my son. Ignoring my own despair, I immediately redialed the number, terrified that even a second’s delay would cost my son his life. The call connected again. I sobbed, begging him: “Arthur, I’m not lying! We really were kidnapped! I’m begging you, please save our baby!” The line was dead silent for two agonizing seconds before Arthur’s freezing, bone-chilling voice echoed through the speaker: “Then I’ll just wait until you’re both dead, and I’ll come collect the bodies.” Click. Arthur turned his phone off entirely. Simultaneously, my phone received a video message from Chloe Sinclair. In the video, Arthur, wearing a bespoke suit, was holding Chloe’s son, speaking eloquently to a crowd of reporters. “Yes, that’s right. This is Chloe’s and my child.” “Due to some unfortunate misunderstandings in the past, Chloe and I were forced apart. Now, we’ve decided to get back together.” “From now on, I will be a dedicated father, taking perfect care of Chloe and Toby.” Chloe stood beside him, smiling radiantly, the picture of absolute bliss. Attached to the video was a digital wedding invitation. [Mia, you and Leo are cordially invited to attend our wedding on the 5th of next month.] [We’d also love it if Leo could be our ring bearer.] It felt like someone was physically shredding my heart into pieces. The pain was so intense I could barely breathe. Through my haze of agony, my son suddenly screamed. “Mommy!” The kidnapper, having lost all patience, hauled my son off the floor by his neck, lifting him entirely off the ground. “You little brat. Turns out you’re completely useless after all!” My son’s face rapidly turned a sickening shade of purple as his tiny hands beat uselessly against the kidnapper’s massive grip. “M-mommy…” A blinding, primal rage overpowered my terror. I screamed and lunged forward, desperate to tear my son from his grasp. Before I could even reach him, another kidnapper tackled me, pinning me to the ground and delivering several brutal punches to my face. “You stupid bitch! You still want to fight?!” As he spoke, he grabbed a thick, rusted steel rebar from the floor and forced it violently into my mouth, twisting and jamming it repeatedly. The coarse, jagged metal ripped through my gums and tongue, filling my mouth with a thick, choking foam of blood. The agony was so absolute I could only make muffled, guttural noises. It wasn’t until he had fully exhausted his rage that the kidnapper finally dropped my son back onto the concrete. He ordered his accomplice to open a live-streaming app on his phone. “Since he doesn’t believe the phone calls, we’ll just livestream a little child abuse.” “I refuse to believe Arthur Sterling is actually that cold-blooded. There’s no way he just abandons his own flesh and blood.” 2 The kidnapper’s livestream of my son being tortured hit the trending charts at the exact same moment Arthur’s public relationship announcement did. In front of the flashing cameras, Arthur affectionately placed Chloe’s son on his shoulders, smiling at the reporters: “Alright, that concludes today’s interview. Chloe and I need to go celebrate our son’s birthday now.” Chloe playfully swatted his arm, her voice dripping with affection. “Arthur is always like this. He’s always been such an incredible father.” Meanwhile, in the filthy warehouse, the kidnapper shoved my son into a burlap sack, kicking and beating him like a literal punching bag. I was tied securely to a chair, forced to watch this horrific scene unfold with my own eyes. My son’s initial, agonizing screams slowly faded into weak, pathetic whimpers, like a dying kitten. The live chat was scrolling at a frantic pace: [I can’t watch this! The kid sounds like he’s dying!] [Didn’t they say if the dad just gets on a call, they’ll let the kid go?! Where the hell is the dad?!] [Can anyone please contact the father?! Save that poor baby!] The kidnapper dragged my son out of the bloody sack, his eyes filled with malicious intent. “You little brat. Looks like your dad really can hold out. Even after all this, he still won’t show his face.” “Fine. Don’t blame me for what happens next.” He picked up the heavy steel rebar from the floor and took a step toward my son. “I’ll give you something to cry about!” My eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing horror. Dragging the heavy chair with me, I threw myself to the floor, kowtowing frantically until my forehead bled. “Please! I’m begging you, don’t hurt my baby! I’m not afraid of pain, do whatever you want to me! Just let him go, please!” My forehead slammed against the concrete over and over, quickly pooling blood on the floor. My son slowly opened his eyes, looking at me and weakly shaking his head. “No, Mommy… Leo doesn’t hurt… Leo doesn’t hurt at all.” His tiny voice pierced my chest like a jagged knife. But I couldn’t show fear. He was only six years old. His life had barely even begun. Tears and blood streamed down my face as I offered him the same gentle, reassuring smile I always did. “Leo, Mommy is a grown-up. Grown-ups don’t feel pain.” My son looked at me, his eyes full of innocent confusion, and kept shaking his head. The kidnapper lost whatever shred of patience he had left. He raised the rebar high and marched toward my son. “You little shit, I’ll shut you up!” In a split second of pure adrenaline, I lunged forward with everything I had, violently shoving my son out of the way. The heavy steel rebar came crashing down, driving straight through my body. The unimaginable trauma caused my body to convulse uncontrollably, but I fought with every ounce of my being not to scare my child. Even after the kidnapper violently wrenched the rebar free, I desperately maintained the smile on my face. I wanted to tell my child not to be afraid. I wanted to tell him how incredibly much I loved him. But as the blood filled my throat, all I could manage was: “Leo, don’t cry. Mommy doesn’t hurt.” In the final moments before death took me, a chaotic montage of memories flashed through my mind. I remembered our wedding day. Arthur’s hands were shaking so violently from nerves that it took him several tries just to slide the ring onto my finger. I remembered the day I found out I was pregnant. Arthur’s eyes were bright red as he asked me, “Am I really going to be a dad?” I remembered Leo’s fifth birthday, and the massive, extravagant party Arthur threw for him. But those memories were quickly replaced by Chloe’s endless, calculated sabotage against me and my son after her divorce. I remembered Arthur’s initial doubt, shifting to deep disappointment, and finally settling into freezing, absolute apathy. As my vision blurred, I heard my son’s voice. He was saying: “Mommy, don’t go to sleep! Leo will be good! Leo will be so good and listen to everything you say!” “Mommy, please don’t sleep!” I summoned the absolute last fragment of my fading strength, trying to lift my hand to stroke his hair. But all I felt was hot, sticky blood. I’m so sorry. Mommy failed to protect you. I’m so sorry, Leo. My consciousness plummeted into absolute, eternal darkness. My son reached out with his tiny hands, desperately trying to stem the massive flow of blood pouring from my body. But it was entirely useless. The live chat completely lost its mind, scrolling so fast it was a blur: [You goddamn monsters! Where the hell are the cops?! Someone save them!] [WHERE IS THE DAD?! How can he still not be here?!] [Does anyone know who this kid is?! Please help them, I’m literally begging!] … The kidnappers panicked. One of them turned to the other, his voice tight: “What do we do?! The bitch is dead!” The other kidnapper narrowed his eyes, his voice sending chills down the spine: “It doesn’t matter. We still have the little one. We can still get the ransom.” He violently ripped my son away from my body and shoved him directly in front of the camera lens. Revealing his tiny face, completely covered in dark, horrific bruises. “Look closely, everyone! This kid’s father is the CEO of Sterling Group, Arthur Sterling!” The frantic scrolling of the live chat froze for a fraction of a second. Then it absolutely exploded. [How is that possible?! Didn’t CEO Sterling literally just announce his relationship with that actress?!] [Yeah! They do have a kid, but isn’t his name Toby?!] [Are these kidnappers psychotic?! Who tries to extort Arthur Sterling?!] [Exactly! They must have kidnapped the wrong people!] Amidst the chaotic speculation, a user suddenly dropped a bombshell. [I’m at the press conference right now! I just saw CEO Sterling check his phone!] [Just hold on a second! CEO Sterling definitely saw the news, he’ll be here any minute!] As soon as that message appeared, a massive, bolded comment was pinned to the top of the chat, instantly grabbing the kidnappers’ attention. [CONNECT WITH ME! I AM ARTHUR STERLING!] My son didn’t know how to read many words, but he knew the name “Arthur Sterling” meant “Daddy.” His dim eyes suddenly lit up with a desperate, fragile hope. “Daddy…” 3 The connection went live, but the face on the screen wasn’t Arthur’s. The kidnapper’s expression instantly darkened. He brutally pinned my son to the concrete floor, raising a meat cleaver, fully intending to sever his left arm. The man on the screen frantically shouted: [WAIT! Don’t do anything crazy! I am CEO Sterling’s personal executive assistant!] [I’m just calling to tell you that you’ve kidnapped the wrong people! Everyone at the company knows our CEO has always maintained an impeccable personal life. He absolutely does not have a child!] [The only child he acknowledges is Ms. Sinclair’s son, Toby! Please, do not hurt an innocent child!] The kidnapper let out a harsh, cynical scoff. He pressed the cold steel of the cleaver against my son’s neck, his voice dripping with venom: “I am giving you exactly ten minutes to put Arthur Sterling on this call, or I am going to use this kid’s head for target practice!” With no other options, the assistant immediately dialed Arthur’s private number. “Hello? Who are you looking for?” A young, innocent voice answered the phone, radiating pure, untainted joy. The next second, an incredibly fond, indulgent male voice drifted through the speaker. “Toby, the paper airplanes are done! Come here, Papa Arthur will play with you.” The boy gave a happy cheer and laughed brightly. “Okay! Papa Arthur, someone is on the phone for you.” Arthur took the phone, his tone instantly shifting to deep annoyance: “What is it? Didn’t I explicitly tell you that today is Toby’s birthday and I am not to be disturbed under any circumstances?” The assistant hesitated for a second before blurting out: “Mr. Sterling, do you… do you have another son named Leo? He’s…” “ENOUGH!” Arthur furiously cut the assistant off: “I have no idea how much Mia paid you to do this, but I am warning you right now: stop using children as pawns in her pathetic, desperate games!” “As of right now, I only have one son, and his name is Toby.” “Do not ever mention those people to me again!” With that, the line went dead. His voice had echoed clearly throughout the entire warehouse broadcast, instantly extinguishing the last, fragile spark of hope in my son’s eyes. He might not fully understand what “pawns” meant, but he understood with absolute, agonizing clarity that his father had just abandoned him. My son muttered the words softly to himself, his heart turning entirely to ash as he closed his eyes. In that moment, he completely stopped fighting. The livestream was abruptly terminated by the platform for graphic violence. Humiliated and enraged, the kidnapper raised the meat cleaver, fully intending to bring it down on my son’s neck, but his accomplice stopped him. He looked down at my son’s battered, bruised face and suggested: “Look, since Arthur Sterling refuses to acknowledge him, this kid is completely useless to us anyway.” “Just chop off one of his arms and dump him at Sterling’s mansion.” “Since he clearly misses his mommy so much, let’s give him a chance to bury her.” The kidnapper sneered, shifting the heavy cleaver to hover directly over my son’s left arm. The blade came crashing down. My son’s agonizing, blood-curdling scream echoed through the massive, empty warehouse. Miles away, while helping Toby cut his birthday cake, Arthur’s heart suddenly seized with a violent, inexplicable palpitation. 4 When he woke up again, missing an arm, my son had already been dumped in front of Arthur’s sprawling, multi-million-dollar estate. In the massive courtyard, a gigantic, custom-built toy castle dominated the lawn. Arthur and Chloe were happily playing games with Toby. The continuous sound of bright, echoing laughter drifted over the walls, slowly dragging my son back to consciousness. He agonizingly forced himself to roll over. He stared blankly through the wrought-iron gates at the picture-perfect, happy family, tears welling in his eyes. Then, he remembered what the kidnapper had said. I have to bury Mommy… Yes. I have to bury Mommy. Even though he didn’t fully comprehend the horrific permanence of death, his primal instincts told him this was the most important thing in the world. Ignoring the excruciating, blinding agony radiating from his severed shoulder, he used his only remaining hand to drag his body across the rough pavement. Inch by agonizing inch, he dragged himself toward the massive front gates of the estate. The sharp gravel tore at his palm, and dirt ground itself deep into his open, bleeding wounds. Every single inch he moved was an absolute, torturous hell. This was a child who used to run to me and cry over a scraped knee. Now, he simply let out a few weak, silent sobs before gritting his teeth and continuing to drag himself forward. He stared at the imposing gates slowly drawing closer, muttering to himself like a mantra: “Leo doesn’t hurt… Leo doesn’t hurt at all… I have to bury Mommy…” When his small, bloodied hand finally grasped the cold metal of the gate, he let out a massive sigh of relief. He forced his head up and used the absolute last shred of his energy to call out: “Daddy!” Hearing the voice, Arthur instinctively whipped his head around. Seeing the tiny, curled-up body lying just outside the gates, his expression froze, a flash of genuine, instinctual heartache crossing his eyes. Just as he took a step toward the gate, Chloe immediately intercepted him. “Arthur, is that Leo? Why is he here? Didn’t Mia say they were kidnapped?” Chloe’s expression twisted into a vicious sneer, though her voice remained sickeningly gentle. “But I guess it makes sense. Mia has always been incredibly jealous of how well you treat me and Toby. It’s completely in character for her to try and ruin Toby’s birthday.” “I just feel so incredibly sorry for Leo, being used as a pawn at such a young age.” Hearing Chloe’s words, the sudden softening in Arthur’s heart instantly hardened into ice. He stared at his son from a distance, his voice dripping with freezing, absolute apathy: “What? Your mom realized I wasn’t answering the phone, so she sent you here to play the victim?!” “I am utterly humiliated to have a son like you. From now on, unless I explicitly give you permission, you are strictly forbidden from calling me ‘Daddy.’” “I am going to count to three. You better get off the ground right now, or I promise you, you will deeply regret it!” My son’s pale, bloodless lips moved. He desperately wanted to explain, but the unimaginable pain had entirely drained his strength. Seeing that the boy still refused to move, an explosive rage ignited in Arthur’s chest. He turned around, snatched a heavy, die-cast toy airplane off the grass, and hurled it violently at my son. “I told you to get up! Stop putting on this pathetic act!” The heavy metal toy crashed brutally into my son’s forehead with a sickening thud. Blood instantly began pouring from the wound, dripping into his eyes, dyeing his entire world crimson. He desperately wanted to tell his dad that he wasn’t acting. That he was in agonizing, unspeakable pain. But he literally didn’t have the strength to make a sound. Seeing his son still lying completely motionless, Arthur completely lost his mind. He aggressively shook off Chloe’s hand and marched furiously toward the gate: “Are you really going to stubbornly defy me?! Do you honestly believe I won’t—” Before he could finish the threat, his phone began ringing with a piercing, urgent tone. “Hello? Am I speaking to Mr. Arthur Sterling? We received multiple emergency reports. Your child was subjected to a live-streamed torture session by kidnappers earlier today. Your wife was killed on the scene.” “We urgently request that you come down to the station immediately to assist with our investigation.” Clatter. The phone slipped from Arthur’s hand, hitting the pavement. He finally noticed the massive, horrific amount of blood soaking his son’s clothes. His eyes instantly turned bloodshot. My son had finally gathered enough strength. He forced his head up, using his only remaining hand to weakly tug at Arthur’s pant leg: “Mister… can you please lend me some money… so I can bury my mommy?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391793”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After the miscarriage, I systematically erased every habit that Giles used to find irritating. I stopped asking where he was going. When he stayed out all night, I no longer paced the floor; I simply turned off the bedside lamp and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Even when I was injured during a training maneuver and the medic told me to call my family, I just looked at the sterile white ceiling and said, “I don’t have any next of kin.” The nurse recognized me. “You’re Mrs. Marshall, aren’t you? General Marshall is just in the next sector over. Should I send word to him?” I shook my head slowly. “No. There’s no need.” But thirty minutes later, Giles Marshall appeared anyway. He stood in the doorway, his uniform sharp, his presence commanding and cold. “You’re hurt. Why wasn’t I the first person you called?” I kept my eyes down. “It’s a scratch, Giles. Not worth bothering the Commanding General over.” That dismissive tone—the sheer lack of weight in my voice—made him visibly bristle. Before he could snap back, voices drifted in from the hallway. Two guards were gossiping, unaware of who was listening. “The General really has a soft spot for that girl, Maya, from the USO troupe. She twisted her ankle during the performance, and he practically commandeered a Black Hawk just to get her back. Carried her onto the bird himself. Didn’t let her feet touch the tarmac once.” I saw Giles’s chest tighten. His eyes flickered toward me, searching for the explosion, the accusations, the familiar fire of my jealousy. But my lashes didn’t even quiver. I just leaned back against the thin hospital mattress and closed my eyes, letting the silence settle between us. … It wasn’t until we were in his military Jeep that he finally spoke, his voice a low growl of defense. “Don’t listen to the gossip. It was professional. Maya was invited here to perform for the troops. She got hurt on my watch; it was my responsibility to handle it.” “Okay,” I said softly. I didn’t add anything else. Giles’s temper flared suddenly. “You don’t believe me? Is this still about that? God, Cassie… I’ve come back to you. I’m here. What more do you want?” I stared out the window at the passing barracks, my profile a blank slate. “I believe you,” I said. “I just didn’t think I was an emergency. I didn’t want to interrupt your work. Let’s just go back to the quarters.” The same scripted response. Autopilot. Giles slammed his fist against the steering wheel. The horn blared, a sharp, ugly sound that cut through the winter air, startling a group of performers who were just finishing their set across the road. One girl looked up. As the moonlight hit her face, the air inside the Jeep turned to ice. “Maya… what is she still doing out here?” Giles muttered. He glanced at me instinctively. In the past, every time I saw her, I’d lose my mind. I’d scream, I’d cry, I’d demand to know why she was wearing a coat that looked like mine. But now, I just gave her a fleeting glance and looked away. Nothing. Giles gripped the wheel, but his eyes were glued to the rearview mirror. It was a brutal December night. The girl was shivering in a thin stage costume, her arms wrapped tight around herself, her nose red from the cold. His hand was already on the door handle. The concern was practically leaking out of him. I understood the script perfectly. I opened my door and stepped out, giving him the exit he was dying for. “If you need to do a final sweep of the camp, I can walk back. It’s not far.” I didn’t wait for an answer. I turned toward the intersection. Giles jumped out and caught my wrist. “It’s over between us, Cassie. I didn’t know she was here. Why won’t you trust me?” I nodded. “I do trust you, Giles. She’s a young girl in a tough spot. Even if it’s over, it’s normal to care. I get it.” He stared at my face. There was no bitterness there. No hidden edge. That was what terrified him. I used to have an insatiable hunger for his attention. If I found a single long hair on his uniform, I’d interrogate him until dawn. Now, I was exactly what he’d always begged me to be: reasonable, quiet, undemanding. But it felt like he was breathing through wet cotton. I pulled my hand back and walked away. At the corner, I stopped and looked back. Beside the Jeep, Giles had already draped his heavy coat over Maya’s shoulders. He was cupping her face in his hands, leaning down to kiss her with a desperation that looked like pain. I wasn’t surprised. I should have seen it coming. I certainly wasn’t going to be the woman I was the first time I caught him—the “crazy wife” screaming, “Giles! Have you no shame? I’ve been with you since I was eighteen! We had nothing, and now you tell me you love someone else?” Back then, he had looked at the blood on his lip where I’d struck him and sneered, “Shame? You want to talk about shame? You were sleeping with me at eighteen. Your own parents didn’t even want you. I’m the one who took you out of that state home. I’ve raised you for a decade. You should be thanking me.” That sentence had been a poisoned blade, shredding twelve years of shared struggles, of shivering together in foxholes and building a life from dust. My phone vibrated, pulling me out of the graveyard of my memories. “Colonel Miller, the personal effects and pension documents for your biological parents have been verified. When can you come to the West Coast Command to finalize the claim?” I pulled my sleeve down to cover the faint white scar on my wrist. “Ten days. My divorce papers finish processing in ten days.” The voice on the line hesitated. “You and General Marshall… it’s been a long time. You can inherit the estate and the honors without transferring units.” I watched the lights of the base fade in the distance. “I don’t love him anymore,” I said. “I just want to go home to a place I’ve never been.” Back at the officer’s quarters, the first thing I saw was our wedding photo on the wall. We looked so young. Giles was laughing, his nose pressed affectionately against my temple. We grew up together in the state foster system. When I was eighteen, the director tried to marry me off to a bitter, middle-aged sergeant just to get me off the books. Giles was the one who grabbed my hand and helped me scale the back wall. The director had screamed after us, “Giles Marshall! You think you can protect her forever?” He had looked back, his eyes blazing with a reckless, beautiful light. “Watch me!” He used his enlistment bonus to rent the cheapest basement apartment in the city. “Once I’m through basic training and get my stripes, you can come with me as a registered dependent,” he promised. “No one will ever take you away again.” For the first three years, he crawled through the mud in Ranger school. Before every jump, every dangerous op, he’d tuck my photo into his breast pocket, right over his heart. I worked a desk job in logistics, saving every penny. During the leanest winters, we’d share a single bowl of instant noodles on New Year’s Eve and feel like royalty. Then he made Special Forces. I moved into Intelligence. We traded the basement for a dorm, the dorm for a house, and finally, for this villa. The stars on Giles’s shoulders got brighter, and the “colleagues” around him started looking different. Until the day I found a smudge of lipstick on the inside of his collar. “A girl tripped backstage at the gala, I helped her up, it was an accident!” he’d snapped, ripping his tie off. “Cassie, you’re a soldier too. Stop acting like a paranoid housewife.” “Do soldiers not betray people, Giles? We said forever. Not ‘forever until it gets boring.’” The screaming matches became our new language. I tracked his missions, his call logs, even snuck to the edge of the training grounds when he claimed he was pulling an all-nighter. Giles, out of spite, leaned into it. He cycled through women, sometimes coming home with scratches on his back just to see me break. “Satisfied?” he’d sneer. “You wanted to find something. Now you have.” I felt like a ghost, knowing I should leave but unable to find the door. Twelve years meant we were grafted together. Tearing apart meant losing skin. But a year ago, he “changed.” He cleared out the flings. He kept only one. When I saw Maya’s photo, I collapsed. That face. She looked exactly like I did at eighteen—innocent, wide-eyed, untouched by the world. Giles would rather love a ghost of me than the woman I had become to survive him. That night, I sat in a bathtub and opened my veins. Giles broke the door down, his hands shaking so hard he could barely apply the tourniquets. He carried me into the ER, his eyes bloodshot and terrifying. “Cassie! Are you insane? We’ll fix it! I promise, just you and me, no one else, ever again!” I lay in that hospital bed feeling nothing but a profound, hollow exhaustion. That was the day the JAG officer found me. He handed me a yellowed file. “Colonel Miller, the department re-investigated the casualty lists from the ’94 border conflict… These two officers? They were your biological parents.” I held the file, my fingers icy. After I hung up, I walked to the window of my private room. In the garden below, Giles was holding Maya. “I’m sorry, Maya. She’s unstable. Post-traumatic stress… I can’t leave her like this. Not now. But trust me, once she’s settled, I’ll make it right for us.” They kissed like star-crossed lovers. In that moment, the graft finally failed. The skin tore away. The hole in my chest was so large I couldn’t even make a sound. On my seventh day in the hospital, I realized the truth. I had to kill the woman who loved Giles Marshall to let the daughter of heroes live. For a week, Giles didn’t come home. I didn’t ask. I filed the divorce papers and the transfer request through official channels and started packing. I decided to return the keys to our first apartment—the small “temporary” housing we’d kept for years as a storage unit—to the base housing office. When I arrived at the unit with the housing clerk, the door was slightly ajar. I heard a woman’s soft laugh and a man’s rhythmic, heavy breathing. Through the crack in the door, I saw a discarded USO uniform on the floor. Giles had Maya pinned against the wall, his tactical pants around his knees. He was wearing his wedding ring. I squeezed my eyes shut, took a slow breath, and pulled the door closed. I turned to the clerk. “I’m sorry. Today isn’t a good day for the inspection. Let’s do it another time.” The clerk was a young officer. She’d heard the noises. She looked at me with a mix of pity and horror. “Colonel Miller… do you want me to report this?” I shook my head. “No. It’s a private matter. Let’s not bother the command.” What was the point of bursting in? To scream like a banshee? To beg him to remember our years in the trenches? A man whose heart has moved on is just an empty shell. You don’t fight over a shell. I hurried down the stairs, but Giles came charging out after me, his shirt untucked, his breath ragged. “Cassie? What are you doing here? What did you… what did you hear?” I pulled my wrist away, my face a mask of calm. “I was dropping off the keys. The door was closed, so I left.” He let out a visible breath of relief, thinking I was just being sentimental about our old place. “I was on maneuvers all week, just got back. Maya needed a place to rehearse, so I let her use the key… Don’t overthink it.” I didn’t bother pointing out the lie. I turned to leave. Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering erupted from inside the apartment, followed by the roar of a flash-fire! Giles’s face transformed. He grabbed my jaw, his eyes burning with a terrifying rage. “Did you do this? Cassie, I thought you were finally being rational, but this? This petty, dangerous bullshit?” “If Maya is hurt in there, I will personally see you court-martialed!” He shoved me aside and ran into the smoke. I started to walk away, but then I remembered—my parents’ original documents and the divorce filing were locked in the old safe in that bedroom. I grabbed a fire extinguisher from the hallway, smashed the window, and dived into the heat. The room was thick with black smoke. Giles was already carrying Maya out. When he saw me, his eyes went cold. “What are you doing? Get out!” I ignored him and ran for the bedroom. The curtains were melting. The safe was right next to the burning closet. “Cassie! You’re going to die for a safe? Get out!” Giles roared from the doorway. I knelt by the safe, spinning the dial. As the door clicked open, the overhead light fixture, heavy and wreathed in flames, buckled. Giles instinctively shielded Maya and jumped back toward the exit. The blast of heat threw me backward. Glass shards sliced into my arms, blood soaking through my shirt instantly. I clawed the envelope out of the safe and tucked it against my chest. The smoke filled my lungs. The world blurred. The last thing I heard was the sound of Giles’s boots running away from me, and the distant, lonely wail of a siren. When I woke up, I was back in the military hospital. Giles was sitting by the bed, holding the scorched envelope. Inside were two red booklets. “Marriage licenses? You almost died for our marriage licenses?” His voice was tight. “Cassie, you have a hairline fracture in your leg, smoke inhalation, and second-degree burns. You almost didn’t make it.” I reached out and took the envelope back. There were no marriage licenses in there. Just the documents I needed to leave him and the proof of who I actually was. Giles watched me clutch the envelope, his brow furrowed. “We all could have gotten out fine, but you had to make it a choice. You had to make me choose between you two just to see who was more important, didn’t you?” “Arson is a serious crime, Cassie. I saved Maya first because she had no gear, no training. You’re a soldier.” I stared at the white ceiling. “Okay,” I whispered. “Cassie.” His voice softened. “I told you, I’m committed to us. Maya… her family is in trouble. I was just helping her as a commanding officer. The apartment was temporary.” He helped her right into our bed. He talked about “family” while his body was still buzzing from someone younger. I finally looked at him. My eyes were like stagnant water. “I know. I understand.” The calm seemed to drive him crazy. He stood up abruptly, then caught sight of the massive bandage on my arm. “One scar wasn’t enough? You need more to keep me tethered to you?” “No more,” I said. “I’m done being stupid.” His comms unit buzzed. He stepped to the window to answer. I couldn’t hear the words, only the high, sobbing pitch of Maya’s voice. Giles whispered a few reassurances, then turned back to me. “There’s an emergency with the debrief. I have to go to HQ. Rest up.” He left without looking back. I stayed in the hospital for a few more days. Giles sent flowers and supplements, and he called every day. I had the nurses answer. “She’s stable. No visitors.” On the day of my discharge, I was limping toward the billing desk on crutches when an older woman shoved past me. “My son-in-law is a General here. Move aside.” I frowned. “Wait your turn, ma’am.” She sneered at me. “Do you know who you’re talking to? My son-in-law is Giles Marshall. If I don’t get my heart medication on time, he’ll have your badge.” Before I could respond, Giles and Maya appeared at the end of the hall. He pulled me aside, his voice a frantic whisper. “Maya’s mother has a weak heart. She can’t handle stress. You’re a soldier, Cassie. Set an example. Let the civilian go first.” Maya held her mother’s arm, her eyes welling up. “Cassie, I’m so sorry… my mom’s heart is acting up. I told her Giles was my fiancé so she’d agree to take the expensive meds… please don’t be mad at him. He’s just a good man who can’t stand to see an old woman suffer.” I looked at the three of them. So, because Maya’s mother had a cough, he left his wife—the woman with a broken leg and charred skin—alone in a hospital bed? Fine. It didn’t matter anymore. I nodded and turned to leave. I’d only taken two steps when I heard Maya’s shaky whisper: “Giles, is she mad? Is she going to do what she did last time? I’m so scared for your career…” Giles’s voice was soft, but it carried perfectly through the sterile air. “Don’t worry about her. She grew up without parents. she doesn’t understand what family means. She doesn’t have the capacity for that kind of empathy.” My fingers tightened on the crutches until my knuckles went white. I walked, one agonizing step at a time, down the long corridor. Giles’s boots echoed behind me. “Cassie, wait. I’ll give you a ride back to the quarters.” I didn’t stop. I tried to go faster. The tip of my crutch hit a wet patch on the linoleum. I went down hard. My burned arm hit the floor, and I felt the wound tear open. The pain was so sharp it broke something deep inside my chest. I grit my teeth, my nails digging into my palms, but the tears leaked out anyway. All my life, I had hated the holidays. I’d watch the warm lights in people’s windows, listen to the laughter, and feel a dull ache like a knife in my ribs. Giles knew that. He was the only person in the world who knew how much that scar hurt. And he had just used it to comfort his mistress. He ran over to pick me up, his voice laced with annoyance. “Cassie! Why do you have to be so stubborn?” Suddenly, a heavy thermos flew through the air and struck me in the face. Hot soup scalded my skin. My forehead began to swell instantly. Maya’s mother stood there, shaking with rage. “You hussy! Trying to steal my son-in-law? I’ll show you!” She lunged forward and slapped me. I fell back again, my head spinning. Then, she swung her own cane and caught me square in the shoulder. I heard a dull thud against my bone. Giles finally stepped in, catching the woman’s cane. “Ma’am! Please! Calm down! It’s not what you think!” “Then what is it?” she shrieked. “This tramp was throwing herself into your arms! I have eyes!” I forced myself up. “Control your daughter! Ask her who the tramp is!” Giles whipped around, his voice a desperate, low hiss: “She has severe coronary disease, Cassie! She can’t take the shock! I’m begging you, don’t make a scene now!” He turned back to the mother, his voice soothing. “You’ve misunderstood. This is Colonel Miller. She’s a fellow officer. She’s had some… mental instability since the war. She gets confused…” He actually pulled my medical file out of his pocket to show her. The old woman spat on the floor. “A crazy soldier? No wonder her parents died early. No one was around to teach her any manners.” Giles practically carried her away. He never once looked back at me. I sat on the floor and watched them go. I couldn’t even cry anymore. A kind nurse helped me back into a treatment room and re-dressed my wounds. “Colonel,” she whispered, “do you want me to call security?” I shook my head. “No. Just process my discharge.” I went back to the quarters and finished packing my single duffel bag. My phone buzzed. Maya had posted an update. A photo of her wearing Giles’s uniform jacket, leaning against his chest. The caption: Through the smoke and the fire, I found you. Worth every bit of pain. I scrolled past it and hit “Unfollow.” Downstairs, the transport I’d ordered was waiting. I climbed into the back. “To the military airfield,” I said. As we pulled out of the gates, a black SUV passed us in the opposite direction. Giles was in the back, talking animatedly to someone. Maya was leaning on his shoulder, laughing. We drove in opposite directions, faster and faster. In the rearview mirror, the base shrunk into a tiny dot and then vanished. I thought about being eighteen and climbing that wall. Twenty and standing at his commissioning ceremony. Twenty-two and exchanging rings in the chapel. Twenty-eight and watching the women cycle through his life. The images flashed by, then fell away. It was over. Now, I was going to finish the flight my parents never got to. I was going to the sky they died protecting.

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When my driver’s son brought an unknown girl home and told me to take care of her, a stream of comments flashed before my eyes: “YES! The male and female leads are both reborn and they’ve met early! This time, they won’t be held back by society for years!” “This sweet romance would be so much better without the evil supporting female character messing things up.” “The evil rich girl uses her father’s position as a General to bully the male lead. She’s never once been nice to him.” “That evil girl thinks her family is the only reason the male lead got ahead. She wants him to worship her without any dignity. But honestly, without her, he could have become a powerful and untouchable figure all on his own.” The driver’s son looked at me, the polite deference he usually showed me completely gone. In its place was an arrogant disdain, a greedy glint in his eyes like a predator. I was curious to see how a reborn duo—an adopted orphan and a mysterious abandoned girl—planned to rise through the ranks and become untouchable tycoons in this day and age. 1 Nicholas sat on my living room sofa, opening a can of lychees for Amber and pouring them into my personal white porcelain bowl. He saw me staring at Amber and defensively shifted his body to block my view. “Beatrice, this is Amber, my girlfriend. From now on, you’ll be taking care of her personally.” “She has delicate skin, so her bedding needs to be the finest European linen. She’s not used to small rooms, so she’ll be staying in yours. You can move out.” He brazenly unwrapped a bar of exclusive, military-grade Swiss chocolate, handed it to Amber, and then shot me a look of disgust. “Beatrice, I’ll still be by your side, but I will never love you.” “If you continue to support my rise to power with everything you have, I might just let you live.” Amber leaned against Nicholas, as pliant as a vine. The shoes on her feet were the thick, woolen slippers my father had brought back from a trip to Europe especially for me. The comments before my eyes exploded with excitement: “Whoa, so dominant! He puts the rich girl in her place right from the start. Now THAT’S a real sweet romance.” “This double-reborn setup is awesome! The evil girl won’t get the chance to use her family’s power to force the ML to marry her or to ruin the FL’s reputation in a nightclub this time.” “In the last life, the evil girl forced the ML to study abroad in England for four years just to break them up. It was so tragic.” “Thank god when he returned, he found a powerful benefactor, destroyed the evil girl’s family, and framed them for treason so they could never recover.” Reading those words, a vein throbbed in my temple. Nicholas sat up straighter, his posture infused with the confidence and nobility of his past life’s power. “Mrs. Gable, peel me one of those heirloom pears. The ones freshly picked from the valley orchard.” The comments scrolled wildly, and I finally understood. I was living in a historical romance novel. And the evil, spoiled rich girl in the comments? That was me. According to the plot, Nicholas brings the homeless and destitute Amber back to my house for me to care for. They grow closer, and feelings blossom between them. I, unwilling to let my childhood friend be stolen away by Amber, begin a campaign of coercion and control. I use my family’s wealth and power to elevate him, hoping he’ll be indebted to me. I even use my connections to send him abroad to study, severing his ties with Amber. When Nicholas returns, he marries me, becoming the model husband in everyone’s eyes. But in his heart, he never stops yearning for the one who got away. Meanwhile, Amber, without Nicholas’s help, is forced to work in a nightclub to survive, losing her innocence in the process. Later, after finding a benefactor and gaining immense power, Nicholas sets Amber up in a life of luxury, spending every moment doting on her. He blames me for all the hardships she endured. He then conspires with outsiders to frame my family for treason, turning us into prisoners under investigation. By the time our names are cleared, my parents have died from the stress, and I am poisoned and killed by the two of them. They take my family’s fortune, flaunt their wealth, and travel the world. During a trip to the coast, they both drown—and are reborn. When they open their eyes, they are back on this very day, the day Nicholas first brought Amber to my home. My expression was cold. It was almost funny. An orphan adopted by my driver and a girl with no history to her name were going to turn my world upside down? The plot was utterly absurd. Nicholas, still believing he was the powerful son-in-law of the Wallace family, saw that our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, hadn’t moved. He snapped at me, “What’s wrong with your family? Even your maids are this clueless?” In response to his contempt, I slapped him across the face. “Who the hell do you think you are, shouting in my house?” 2 Amber shot me a venomous glare before turning to caress Nicholas’s face, her voice dripping with concern. “I never knew Miss Wallace was so spoiled and unreasonable. In that case, she’s certainly not qualified to take care of me.” She linked her arm through Nicholas’s, leaning into him like a delicate bird. “Don’t lower yourself to her level by getting angry over a maid. We can just fire her and hire another. As for Miss Wallace, if she’s going to be so difficult, we should just kick her out.” She spoke as if she were the lady of the house. I had to laugh. “What makes you think you’re worthy of my care, let alone living in my house? You’re delusional.” “Mrs. Gable is my father’s official aide, a salaried government employee under military jurisdiction, not some maid you can order around as you please.” “Mrs. Gable, please dispose of anything these two vagrants have touched.” Before I could finish, Nicholas tilted his head back, his tone dripping with arrogance. “Beatrice, you severely lack discipline. I’m going to have to teach you a lesson on your father’s behalf!” The comments were a flurry of surprise: “Wait, why does the evil girl suddenly have a brain? Isn’t she supposed to willingly take care of the heroine and be a stepping stone for the hero, completely subservient to him?” “Did the plot change? And why is the hero acting so high and mighty? He’s just the driver’s son living off their charity.” “Heh. She’s just trying to get the hero’s attention. Pathetic little tricks.” Nicholas still looked utterly confident. “If you’re going to be so undisciplined, then get out of this house!” I couldn’t help but laugh. Was Nicholas completely delusional? Kicking me out of my own home? It seemed he was still stuck in his past-life role as the cherished son-in-law. By what right did he think he could tell me to get out? I picked up the receiver of the rotary phone and dialed the guards at the gate. “We have two troublemakers in the house. Please come and remove them.” Nicholas and Amber looked at me as if I’d just told the funniest joke. “Remove us? We’ll see who gets removed when the General gets home! You or me!” He was utterly certain. “In our last life, the General supported my rise to power with everything he had because he recognized my talent and ability. For me, he’ll definitely kick you out!” In the last life, with my father’s support, Nicholas had climbed the ladder of power step by step. My father’s favor meant that even the household staff and guards deferred to him. This had fed his ambition, but for him to act so high and mighty now? He must have lost his mind. When my father arrived home and took off his uniform jacket, Nicholas immediately swarmed him, acting as if my father would undoubtedly take his side. “General Wallace, you’ve raised a real piece of work for a daughter. She’s trying to kick me out! All I asked was for her to look after a helpless orphan like Amber, and the heartless girl slapped me.” My father was a traditional man who valued family harmony above all else. In our past life, whenever there was a conflict, he often urged me to be the one to back down. But now, my father just looked at Nicholas with a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance. Without even looking up, he spoke to the guards. “From now on, I don’t want just any stray wandering into this house. Especially not the ones who aren’t right in the head. What if Beatrice gets hurt?” Nicholas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The General, who had always valued him, was being so callous. He composed himself and issued a command, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You should be kicking Beatrice out of this house. Only then will I fully support you and become your right-hand man!” My father actually laughed, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Sacrifice my own daughter for you? I’m a General. What makes you think I need a greenhorn who’s never seen a battlefield to be my right-hand man? Don’t be ridiculous.” “The only reason I ever let you come over was to keep Beatrice from getting bored.” Nicholas was stunned by my father’s attitude. “No, that’s not how it’s supposed to be! You’re supposed to admire me, to groom me to take your place! I’m meant to be your most prized subordinate, your favorite son-in-law!” My father just smiled and waved his hand, signaling the guards to drag him out. “I must have been too approachable. To think he’d dare to have designs on my Beatrice. How despicable.” A few quiet days passed before we got a call from The Grand Continental Hotel. Someone claiming to be General Wallace’s son was racking up a massive bill on our family’s account. The comments went wild again: “So cool, treating the heroine to a feast of delicacies. Is this the privilege of the upper class?” “After the hero gets the last tin of imported Russian caviar, he’s going to meet his benefactor. That caviar is his ticket to success. It’s only a matter of time before he crushes the evil girl’s family and uses them as a stepping stone.” “But wait, why is he acting like such a mooch, putting it all on the evil girl’s tab? That’s so scummy.”

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The people I was carpooling with wanted to kick me out. The only problem? It was my car. Since three of my colleagues lived in my neighborhood, I’d suggested we carpool to work. To keep things from feeling awkward or like they owed me a massive favor, I told them the driver, Arthur, was a distant relative who happened to work nearby. I had Arthur charge them a rate that was barely more than a bus pass. It was a steal, considering it saved them two hours of transit time and kept them out of the grueling Seattle rain. For two months, everything was smooth. Or so I thought. Then came today. I was in a stall in the office lounge when I heard whispering near the sinks. “I did some digging,” a male voice said—Mark, from sales. “A private car service for this route usually costs two hundred a day. We’re paying fifty between the three of us. If we could just get one more person in that fourth seat and charge them fifty, our own ride would be free.” The other two chimed in with murmurs of agreement. After a beat of silence, Mark spoke again. “Why don’t we just cut Riley loose? She’s always acting so precious about the car, telling us to be careful with the upholstery like she owns the place. If she’s gone, we can actually relax.” “I’m in,” Jessica added, her voice sharp. “I’m sick of that ‘better-than-you’ vibe she gives off. Let her go back to squeezing onto the light rail with everyone else. It’s where she belongs.” I leaned my forehead against the cold metal of the stall door and let out a silent, jagged laugh. Me? On the light rail? They had no idea. It was my car. 1 The conversation continued, dripping with a casual cruelty that made my skin crawl. “We haven’t paid for next month yet,” Mark said. “Let’s just tell her we’re done carpooling. Force her to drop out on her own.” “Exactly,” Jessica giggled. “And that story about the driver being her relative? Who actually believes that? They barely speak to each other in the car.” “God, the look on her face when she thinks she’s been dumped,” Mark laughed. “She acts like she’s the queen of the office. I already texted Arthur; he said he’d keep the same price for the rest of us.” I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. They didn’t know the car was a graduation gift from my parents. They didn’t know Arthur had been my family’s driver since I was in pigtails. I’d started this out of pity. One morning after a storm, I’d seen Mark and the others walk into the office looking like drowned rats. They’d mentioned they lived in a remote suburb to save on rent, which meant a soul-crushing two-hour commute each way. My parents had bought a house for me in that same area—not because they wanted me in the suburbs, but because I liked the quiet. They insisted Arthur keep driving me for safety. Out of a genuine desire to help, I offered them a ride. I cut their commute from two hours to thirty minutes, door-to-door. To protect their pride, I’d lied, saying it was just a relative’s car and they were doing me a favor by filling seats. Back then, their faces had been masks of pure gratitude. “Riley, you’re a lifesaver,” Jessica had said, clutching my arm. “I knew you were the sweetest person in this department.” Mark had even clapped me on the shoulder. “If you ever need anything, kid, you come to me. I’ve been at this firm the longest. I’ve got your back.” I realized now that my kindness hadn’t bought me friends; it had only bred resentment. To them, I wasn’t a benefactor; I was an obstacle to a free ride. I took a breath, composed myself, and stepped out of the stall. I walked to the sink and began washing my hands as if I hadn’t heard a word. The three of them jumped. Panic flared in their eyes for a split second before they masked it with practiced corporate indifference. I saw Mark catch Jessica’s eye in the mirror. Mark was the one to break the silence. “Hey, Riley. We were actually just talking about you. The three of us decided we’re going back to the train next month. It’s… cheaper. So, we’re out of the carpool.” I looked at him, feigning confusion. “But the carpool is barely more expensive than the transit pass.” It was fifty dollars a day for three people—roughly sixteen bucks each. The light rail was twelve dollars round-trip. When you factored in the time they saved and the fact that they were no longer getting docked for being late on rainy days, they were actually saving money with me. Not to mention, if someone stayed late, I’d tell Arthur not to charge them for the day. The gas alone cost more than what they were paying. Jessica stepped forward, her voice a sickly-sweet imitation of concern. “We’re just trying to be responsible, Riley. We’re working class, you know? Every dollar counts. And since we’re dropping out, it wouldn’t be fair for you to bear the cost of the car alone. You should probably just join us on the train.” I looked at her, seeing the predatory gleam in her eyes. They weren’t going to the train. They were going to tell Arthur they’d “renegotiated” and try to leave me at the station. “I think I’ll keep the car,” I said quietly. “I enjoy the comfort. If you’re out, I’ll just tell Arthur not to pick you up tomorrow.” 2 Mark’s face tightened. Jessica gripped his arm, stepping into my personal space. “Riley, be realistic. Your salary isn’t that high. Fifteen hundred a month for a private car? That’s a massive burden for a girl like you.” “You’re young,” she continued, her tone patronizing, like a mother lecturing a toddler. “You shouldn’t be so obsessed with luxury. A two-hour commute builds character. Don’t be lazy.” I pretended to think about it for a moment, tilting my head. “You’re right. It is a lot of money. But I guess I’m just a fan of luxury. I’ll keep the ride. Since you’re done, I’ll let Arthur know he doesn’t need to stop at your places anymore.” The third member of their group, Natalie, finally spoke up. Natalie was the one I’d considered a real friend. “Riley, honestly? We don’t really want to ride with you anymore anyway. Unless you’re willing to cover our portion of the fee as a ‘thank you’ for our company, we’re done with you.” The other two nodded aggressively. “If you were smart, you’d pay for us to stay,” Mark added. “Otherwise, enjoy the rain, princess.” I stared into Natalie’s eyes. She actually looked indignant. Six months ago, Natalie had botched a major data set for a five-million-dollar acquisition. The client had been ready to walk. I’d stayed up for forty-eight hours straight, fixing her errors and rewriting the proposal. I’d even put her name on the final slide so she wouldn’t get fired. She had sobbed into my shoulder afterward. “Riley, you’re my guardian angel. I owe you my life. I’ll never forget this.” Memory is a fickle thing, apparently. Looking at her now, I saw no gratitude. Only the cold, hard calculation of someone who thought they’d found a way to win. This was the “backstab” my father had warned me about. He always told me that unconditional kindness often leads to a sense of entitlement in others. I hadn’t believed him. I believed him now. “I see,” I said, my voice trembling slightly—not from sadness, but from a burgeoning, icy rage. “Good to know.” Natalie’s face lit up with a triumphant smile. She reached out to pat my hand. “I knew you were the most generous person in the office, Riley!” I pulled my hand back before she could touch me. I walked past them without another word, my heels clicking sharply on the linoleum. I sat at my desk and took a long, slow sip of hot tea until my heart rate leveled out. Then, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts. I dialed. “Arthur?” “Yes, Miss Riley? Is everything alright?” “The carpool rate is going up,” I said. “Two hundred dollars a day, starting now.” “As you wish, Miss Riley.” I hung up. If they wanted to play the game of “market rates,” they could pay them. They’d forgotten what it was like to stand on a freezing platform at 6:00 AM. They thought they were the masters of the universe. I was just getting started. I was deep into a quarterly report when the three of them suddenly surrounded my cubicle, looking like a lynch mob in business casual. 3 “Riley! Did you tell Arthur to raise the price?!” Mark shouted, slamming his hand on my desk. “I can’t believe you,” Jessica hissed. “Two-faced much? I never realized how pathetic you actually were.” Mark’s face was beet-red. “You call him right now and tell him to drop the price back down, or we’re going to have a very serious problem.” I didn’t look up from my screen. “I told you, he’s a distant relative. He decided the extra mileage wasn’t worth the low rate. If you have an issue, take it up with him.” Jessica’s voice hit a glass-shattering register. “Take it up with him? You’re the one who set this up! You acted like a big shot, and now you’re trying to scam us? Were we just a paycheck to you this whole time?” My silence only fed their fire. Natalie stepped forward, looking “hurt” again. “Riley, I’m so disappointed. We were trying to be your friends, and you treat us like fools.” I felt a surge of nausea. If I hadn’t heard them in the bathroom, I might have actually felt guilty. “It’s work hours,” I said coldly. “Go back to your desks.” Mark’s hand blurred. CRASH. He swept my ceramic mug off the desk. It shattered against the floor, and a shard of porcelain sliced across my forearm. I gasped as a line of crimson began to bead on my skin. Mark froze for a second, then doubled down. “Don’t you dare try to play the victim! You probably moved your arm into it on purpose!” The office went silent. Colleagues started peeking over their monitors. “Are you crazy?” someone yelled from across the room. A few people rushed over with gauze, helping me wrap the cut. As the crowd gathered, Jessica took a breath and put on her best “concerned citizen” face. She raised her voice so the whole floor could hear. “Everyone, we didn’t want it to come to this. But Riley has been running a scam. she recruited us for a carpool at a low rate, and now that she’s got us hooked, she’s quadrupled the price to line her own pockets. We just wanted an explanation, and Mark got a little heated because we’re all struggling to make ends meet while she plays games with our livelihoods!” Mark nodded. “She probably cut herself just to get me in trouble. Look at her, trying to extort us even now.” The whispers started. The looks of sympathy from my coworkers turned into suspicious glares. “Riley, that’s not right,” someone muttered. “You can’t exploit your coworkers like that.” The cut on my arm stung, but the coldness in my chest was worse. I had given these people everything—my time, my car, my protection. And they had turned it into a weapon to destroy my reputation. I reached into my pocket and hit a speed-dial button. “Dad?” I whispered when he picked up. “How does the firm handle employees with severe character and integrity issues?” 4 When the clock hit five, I walked down to the parking garage. As I reached for the passenger door of the black sedan, a hand shoved me back. “You don’t get to ride,” Mark growled. “Not until you fix the price.” Natalie stood behind him, her voice trembling with fake pity. “Riley, it’s pouring rain out there. Your wound will get infected. Just be a big girl, pay our fees for the month, and we’ll let this go.” I looked at her—really looked at her—and felt like I was going to lose my lunch. The hypocrisy was suffocating. I ignored them and reached for the handle again. This time, Mark lunged to grab my shoulder, but a large, solid figure stepped between us. Arthur. He didn’t say a word, but his presence was a wall. He tucked me behind him. “Arthur, let’s go home,” I said. “Of course, Miss Riley.” The three of them froze. “Miss Riley?” Mark barked a laugh. “Give me a break. What is this, a period piece? What kind of ‘Miss’ are you exactly, Riley? The kind that charges by the hour?” He made a lewd gesture, his face twisting into something grotesque. Jessica joined in, smirking. “I always wondered how you could afford those designer bags on our salary. I guess the ‘driver’ is more than just a relative, huh?” The filth they were spewing was unbelievable. Arthur’s jaw tightened, his fist clenching, but I touched his arm. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Let’s just go.” I got into the front seat and immediately locked all the doors. Out of habit, the three of them tried to open the back doors. They pulled and jerked at the handles, looking like frantic monkeys. It was almost comical. I rolled the window down halfway. “With mouths that dirty,” I said, my voice level, “the bus is probably too good for you.” We pulled away, leaving them standing in the exhaust fumes, screaming obscenities into the rainy darkness. Inside the car, the heater hummed, and the scent of expensive leather filled my senses. I leaned back and watched the rain lash against the glass. “Miss Riley, they were incredibly disrespectful,” Arthur said softly. “Why didn’t you let me—” “Because, Arthur,” I interrupted, “when a dog barks at you, you don’t get down on all fours and bark back. You just shut the gate.” I looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Did you get the recording?” “Every word, Miss.” I went home, took a hot shower, and checked my phone. 59 unread messages. All from them. Threats, insults, and then—as the rain got worse—begging. I deleted the thread and blocked their numbers. I checked the local news. Red Alert: Record rainfall. Flash flooding on major highways. Light rail suspended due to track debris. Bus delays exceeding two hours. I took a sip of my wine and smiled. This was only the first night. They had a long way to go.

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At the high school reunion, I scrolled past a post from the girl who used to make my life a living hell. [Ran into the girl I hated most in high school tonight. Seeing how pathetic her life turned out? Honestly, it’s better than sex.] The comment section was a sea of “LOLs” and “Karma is a queen.” I stared at the screen for a moment, then quietly typed out a reply: “By ‘hated,’ do you mean the way you turned the entire class against her? Or how you knew she and her best friend were in love, but you used the ‘just one of the guys’ act to wedge yourself between them until she was forced to move across the ocean just to breathe?” The second I hit send, the comment vanished. Deleted. I looked up to see Becca’s smirking face. “Joanna! God, you look so… modest,” she said, her voice dripping with that fake-sweet honey. “Is life in London that hard? I mean, look at you. No jewelry, no designer tags.” She leaned in, making sure the people at the nearby tables could hear. “Are you even married? Do you have a boyfriend? Or are you still just drifting, waiting in breadlines or something? If you can’t hack it over there, just come home. We won’t laugh at you. Or is the reason you stayed away for ten years because you’re still holding a grudge against me?” The room went dead silent. A dozen pairs of eyes—eyes that had watched me crumble a decade ago—were suddenly fixed on me, filled with the same old mix of malice and pity. But I wasn’t that trembling girl anymore. I didn’t flush, and I didn’t cry. I didn’t bother telling them that I owned the car I arrived in, the house I grew up in, and, incidentally, the very hotel they were holding this reunion in. I just looked Becca in the eye and asked one thing: “And what about you, Becca? It’s been ten years. Are you and Steve finally together, or are you still just ‘one of the bros’?” 1 The temperature in the room plummeted. Steve, my childhood best friend whom I hadn’t seen in a decade, finally stepped out of the shadows. He looked older, tired, but he still had that same defensive edge. “Jo, don’t start,” he said, his voice tight. “Becca and I are just friends. We’ve always been just friends. I know you’re still stuck in the past, but it’s been forever. I wanted to get everyone together so we could finally clear the air. Let’s just move past this, okay?” Becca seized the moment, raising her glass with a practiced, casual air—the same “tomboy” act she’d perfected in eleventh grade. “Come on, Jo. We were kids. If I did anything to offend your delicate sensibilities back then, let it go. I’ve always been blunt; I don’t do the whole ‘passive-aggressive girl’ drama.” The table erupted in supportive murmurs. “Exactly. Don’t be so sensitive, Jo. Becca’s always been one of us.” “Seriously, who keeps a grudge for ten years? It’s a bit pathetic.” “Becca was the one who insisted on inviting you. Don’t be ungrateful.” They framed her “invitation”—which was really just a summons to be mocked—as an act of charity. They expected me to clink glasses and play along, as if my silence was a debt I owed them. But I’ve never been good at doing what’s expected. I didn’t touch my drink. I just said quietly, “I can’t. I’m pregnant.” Clatter. Steve’s glass hit the floor, shattering against the hardwood. The table went still. Only Becca couldn’t hide the flash of genuine triumph in her eyes. Steve forced a jagged, painful smile. “If you don’t want to drink, just say so. You don’t have to make up a lie like that.” “I’m not lying,” I said calmly. “I’m married. I’m pregnant. I’m only back in the States to help my husband settle some business acquisitions.” Becca’s voice was practically singing now. “Oh my god! When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell us? Congratulations, Jo!” It was the most honest thing she’d said all night. She was thrilled because, in her mind, the threat was gone. She wouldn’t have to pretend to be Steve’s “bro” anymore to keep him from me. Steve sounded like he’d swallowed glass. “Married… but you always said… you said you’d be my bride one day, Jo. You’re kidding, right?” One of the guys at the table scoffed. “Jesus, Jo. Why are you doing this? Steve’s been waiting for you for years. Everyone knows he never moved on.” He leaned forward, his tone patronizing. “Look, if you came here to make him jealous, it worked. But don’t ruin your life over a tantrum. A woman needs to know when to stop playing games if she wants a happy ending. Don’t blow it with a guy like Steve. You won’t find another one.” I remembered these people. I remembered how their words felt like sandpaper on raw skin. Now, they just felt like static. I smiled, a cold, empty thing. “I really am married. And as for those things I said when we were kids? It was just a joke, Steve.” I looked him right in the eye, handing him back the exact words he’d used to destroy me ten years ago. “You’re not going to be a baby about a little joke, are you?” 2 Steve and I were the “it” version of childhood sweethearts. We were inseparable from kindergarten through the start of high school. Our lives were a single thread. Until Becca moved to town. She was loud, athletic, and claimed she “only got along with guys because girls were too much drama.” She worked her way into the center of the boys’ circle, and that included Steve. Suddenly, they were sitting together in every class. They were gaming together until 2 AM. Our walk home, which used to be our sacred time, turned into a trio. At first, I tried to be the “cool friend.” I didn’t want to be the jealous girl. That changed the day Becca “accidentally” knocked my ceramic water bottle off my desk. It shattered into a million pieces. It was part of a matching set Steve and I had bought together. Becca gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my god, Jo! I’m so sorry! I’ll buy you a new one, I swear. Don’t be mad!” I shook my head, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s fine. It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.” Becca leaned down, her voice dropping to a whisper that only I could hear. “I’ll get you a new one. I know how you girls are—saying it’s fine to my face then crying to Steve about how mean I am behind my back.” I froze. “What?” She stood up and shouted to the room, “See? Look at that face! She’s totally mad. Jo, it’s just a bottle. Just tell me to buy you a new one instead of doing the whole two-faced thing. I seriously can’t stand girls who won’t just be real.” She nudged Steve with her elbow. “Hey, Steve, tell your princess to cheer up before she goes home and tells on me.” Steve looked uncomfortable, but he shrugged. “Come on, Jo. Don’t be like that. It’s just a bottle. I’ll buy you another one. It wasn’t even expensive.” “Steve,” I said, my heart sinking. “Do you really think I’m being petty right now?” I felt the blood rush to my face. “I’ll buy my own bottle. I don’t need anything from either of you.” Steve started to apologize, seeing the look on my face, but Becca threw her arm around his neck, pulling him away. “Whoops! The Princess is officially in a mood! Run for it, Steve, before she turns us into frogs. We’ll apologize when she’s finished her tantrum.” And just like that, I had a new nickname: Her Highness. If I handed out papers for a teacher, they’d whisper, “Watch out, don’t let Her Highness break a nail.” If I went to the bathroom, they’d line up in the hallway, snickering. “Make way! The Royal Procession is passing through!” The hallway became a gauntlet of muffled laughs and sidelong glances. Steve saw it all. He did nothing. Later, when I tried to talk to him, he just sighed with annoyance. “Jo, stop acting like a princess. You don’t have the crown for it, but you sure have the attitude.” 3 The cold war began then. Steve and I stopped talking, and Becca took that as a green light to escalate. If I wore a cute keychain on my bag, she’d point it out in the middle of the cafeteria. “Oh wow, Jo! Is that a Sailor Moon charm? Do you actually think you’re a magical girl, or are you just that desperate for attention?” The boys at the table would howl with laughter. If I wiped down my desk before lunch, she’d roll her eyes. “God, you’re such a try-hard. Do you think the rest of us are beneath you? If we’re too dirty for you, go get a private tutor and stay home. Why are you even here?” The other girls, sensing the social shift, started looking at me with sharpened eyes. During our weekly seat change, I was struggling to move a heavy stack of textbooks. Becca leaned her elbow on the books I hadn’t picked up yet and put on a high-pitched, mocking voice. “Oh heavens! I’m simply exhausted! Is there a loyal servant in the room willing to carry Her Highness’s heavy burdens?” The classroom exploded in laughter. It was a sharp, jagged sound that felt like it was drilling into my skull. Some people actually started mimicking my walk. Steve didn’t look back. He just muttered, “That’s enough, Becca.” Becca rolled her eyes. “Oh, look. Someone’s getting soft again.” Steve snapped. “I’m not soft! I’m not worried about her. She’s just a brat.” Becca grinned, satisfied. “Exactly. We’re just trying to toughen her up, Steve. She’s too sensitive. If she can’t handle us, how is she going to handle the real world?” Steve hesitated. “I mean, it’s okay for girls to be a little soft, isn’t it?” Becca punched his arm. “Who are you calling soft? I’m a girl, and I’m not like that!” Steve looked at her, and I saw the way he smiled—with total, easy trust. It felt like a physical blow to my chest. I thought if I just ignored them, the bullying would stop. But a month into our silence, Steve broke. He came to me, looking like a kicked puppy. “Jo, please. Don’t be mad anymore. Talk to me.” His eyes were soft, pleading. And because I was young and stupid, my heart melted. We had been together since we were toddlers. We were supposed to go to college together. I couldn’t just leave him behind. So, we “made up.” At least on the surface. I went back to sitting in the bleachers during his games, holding his jacket. We walked home under the streetlights again. But Becca was always there in the background, watching us with that knowing smirk. Whenever she caught my eye, she’d burst into laughter with the guys around her. It made me feel naked. Like I was a joke everyone was in on except for me. I tried to tell Steve how I felt. He just frowned. “You’re overthinking it, Jo. They’re just messing around.” When he saw the look on my face, he softened his voice. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell them to knock it off when you’re around.” He walked over to Becca and whispered something. She scoffed, her voice ringing out for everyone to hear. “Oh, god! We can’t even laugh now? Does she think she’s a Disney princess? Does she think the world stops because she’s in the room?” “Becca!” Steve barked. She just rolled her eyes at me. In those years, Becca’s voice and the malice hidden in her “jokes” were like invisible hands slapping my face daily. The whispers in the back of the classroom were like insects crawling over my skin. But back then, I was too weak. I kept telling myself: Just three years. Three years and then we all go our separate ways. Just endure it. I didn’t realize that in the middle of that endurance, Steve would choose to break my heart completely. 4 He invited me to the community pool. Since we grew up together, swimming was a normal weekend activity. I didn’t suspect a thing. Until a group of girls from our class suddenly became very interested in my plans. They gathered around my locker, asking what I was going to wear. I told them I was just going to wear my regular one-piece and then go to the library. They looked horrified. “You’re going out with the hottest guy in school and you’re wearing a grandma suit? Jo, live a little!” Was it boring? Maybe. But Steve and I had always been the “good kids.” We studied, we hung out, we were stable. But as I watched Steve and Becca wrestling and laughing in the halls, a dark thought took root: Is he pulling away because I’m too boring? So, the next day, following the “advice” of the girls in my class, I wore a bright magenta bikini. I’ve always been pale, but I’d hit my growth spurt early. I had curves I usually tried to hide under baggy sweaters. When I showed up, the look on Steve’s face was pure shock. He looked away, scratching his neck, but I could feel his eyes tracking me as I walked to the lounge chair. A secret thrill raced through me. This is what it feels like to be liked, I thought. When we sat down in the break area, he started acting fidgety. “Jo,” he said, his voice dropping. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time.” My heart started thumping against my ribs so hard I could hear it in my ears. “Will you be my girlfriend? For real?” The blood rushed to my face. I waited a beat, then whispered, “If it’s you, Steve… then yes.” Because when we were six, he’d held my hand and told me I was the prettiest girl in the world. When I was bullied in elementary school, he’d fought the boys twice his size to protect me. Jo is my sister, he’d yelled. If you mess with her, you mess with me! Ten years of history. How could one girl like Becca change that? Steve asked me again, as if he hadn’t heard me. I gathered my courage and said loudly, “Yes! I like you too, Steve!” “HA HA HA HA!” A roar of laughter erupted from behind the chairs and the pool house doors. Half the class spilled out, phones in hand, faces twisted with mockery. Becca was at the front. “Oh man, Steve! You actually did it! You got the Princess to confess!” I looked at Steve. He looked at the ground. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Becca walked up to me, her eyes raking over my body with disgusting theatricality. “Oh my god, Jo. Did you really think wearing that slutty suit would make him love you? You look like a mid-life crisis in a Barbie box.” The girls who had “recommended” the suit were there, too. They looked away, snickering behind their hands. Becca suddenly reached out and flicked the fabric of my bikini top. “Whoa! I knew it! They’re padded! You’re literally faking it to get a guy. How pathetic are you?” “I’m not!” I screamed, clutching my chest. The crowd roared. “Is she lying, Becca? Let’s see!” Becca laughed. “I saw it with my own eyes. You want a closer look, boys?” The guys started whistling, their eyes wandering over me in a way that made me feel like I was covered in slime. I looked at Steve, my voice trembling. “What is this? What are they talking about?”

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Ever since I was old enough to understand, my billionaire parents and my brother hammered one truth into my head: I was a stray, a placeholder, a counterfeit. If I so much as smiled at my brother, he’d sneer and call me a social climber. When I won a prestigious gold medal for piano, my parents didn’t celebrate; they had the Steinway smashed to pieces. They told me I was “drinking the blood” of their real daughter. The entire family lived in a state of constant vigilance. They were terrified of being kind to me, afraid that an ounce of warmth would whet my appetite and lead me to challenge the “rightful” heiress one day. So, when the real daughter finally returned, I was the one who asked to leave. I told them I wanted to find my biological parents. But they blocked me at every turn. They said that as long as I stayed in my place and kept my head down, I could remain their “daughter” and “sister.” I was stupid enough to believe them. Then came a mock exam. The real daughter failed. She cried, saying she could never be as good as me no matter how hard she tried, and then she staged a dramatic suicide attempt by nicking her wrist. In retaliation, they reported me for “cheating” during the SATs and orchestrated a sequence of events that landed me in a correctional facility. They called it the price for “occupying a throne that wasn’t mine.” To atone, I endured every slander and every cold shoulder in silence. The day I was finally released, they presented me with a “surprise.” It turns out, I was their biological daughter all along. They had kept it a secret because they were afraid their long-lost adopted daughter would feel heartbroken if she realized they had replaced her with a biological child while she was gone. Now that the “older sister” has finally “accepted” me, they’ve come to collect me, smiling and ready for a happy family reunion. 1. The day I walked out, the sky was a bruised gray, and the wind was a serrated blade that cut straight to the bone. The guard handed me a thin, worn-out coat. “Michelle Vance, you’re free. From now on… don’t be stupid.” He looked at my tightly clenched sleeves, his voice dropping an octave. “And tell your family… tell them to get you a therapist.” My eyes were hollow. I nodded, pulling my sleeves down even further to hide what lay beneath. Yes. I had served my time. I had paid my debt. Now, I could go find my real family. I hadn’t walked ten yards when a black Rolls-Royce, hazard lights blinking, pulled up to the curb. The window slid down, revealing a face as familiar as it was striking. Dominic. Sophie’s “loving” older brother. His gaze was exactly as I remembered: cold, clinical, devoid of any warmth. “Michelle. Get in. We’re going home.” I didn’t look at him. I kept walking toward the bus stop. Just as I reached the steps of the bus, a hand clamped onto my shoulder with bruising force. I was yanked back, my spine colliding with the icy metal of the car. Dominic loomed over me, his eyes filled with that familiar, reflexive disdain. “What are you doing? Throwing a tantrum like Sophie used to? Trying to make us feel guilty?” “Did two years in a cell teach you nothing but theatrics?” Ever since I went inside, my brain had felt like rusted clockwork—slow, heavy, grinding. I stared at him blankly, taking a long time to process his words. Finally, I shook my head. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, softened and frayed from being folded and unfolded a thousand times. I smoothed it out for him to see. “No,” I said, my voice sounding like dry leaves skittering on pavement. “Sophie came to see me last time. She told me she found my real parents. Look. The address is right here. I’m going to my actual home.” He froze for a split second. Then, his face darkened into a mask of fury. He snatched the paper from my hands and ripped it into a dozen pieces, tossing them into the roaring traffic of the wet highway. “Stop this madness,” he growled, grabbing my arm. “Mom and Dad are waiting. You’re coming with—” I let out a sharp, strangled scream. I wrenched myself free with a strength I didn’t know I possessed and bolted into the middle of the road. “Home… I have to go home…” I dropped to my knees on the freezing asphalt, frantically clawing at the scraps of white paper as they swirled in the wind. Tires screeched. Horns blared like dying animals. “Jesus! Are you trying to get killed?!” someone yelled from a car window. Dominic’s face was ashen. He lunged forward, shielding me with his body as he shouted apologies to the angry drivers. He practically dragged me back to the shoulder of the road. “Michelle!” His chest was heaving, a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes, but it was quickly eclipsed by his habitual irritation. “If you want to die, do it somewhere I don’t have to watch! Using these cheap tricks for attention… the family really wasted years raising you.” I stared up at him, my mind lagging behind. I tilted my head, looking at him with genuine, quiet confusion. “Then… when Sophie cut her wrists… was she just doing it for attention too?” Dominic went rigid. Every muscle in his jaw locked. For the first time in my life, I saw him flinch. He couldn’t meet my eyes. There it was. Even he knew. “Sophie.” That name had been a crown of thorns around my head for as long as I could remember. I was the fake. I was the parasite. I was the intruder. That was why my mother fired the nanny who served me dessert first. That was why my father smashed my piano. That was why Dominic drowned the stray puppy I had rescued from the rain. They used every choice, every moment, to prove a point: they would never let the “shining pearl” suffer a single slight just because I had been the one physically present in their lives. The scale of their hearts was always tipped in her favor, by design. But I still didn’t get it. If she had all the love, if the world was served to her on a silver platter… Why did she have to bleed just because I beat her on a practice test? Sophie. What on earth were you so afraid of? 2. Dominic rubbed his temples, his frustration radiating off him in waves. “You know Sophie isn’t like you! She grew up out there, suffering. She didn’t even get to finish school properly. You? You were brought into this house and given every resource, every elite tutor!” “You had to be number one every single time? You just had to crush her? You knew it would trigger her!” I didn’t really hear him. I was shivering, trying to piece together the sodden scraps of paper in my hand. Three pieces were missing. “It’s gone…” my voice trembled. “The address… My home is gone!” I started to move toward the road again, desperate. Slap! The blow was so sudden and so sharp that my head snapped to the side. My ear rang with a high-pitched whine. Before I could recover, Dominic dragged me toward a stagnant, icy puddle by the side of the road. “You want to die, Michelle?” He let go, pointing at the dark, freezing water. “Then jump! Go on! Stop the performance!” With a violent sweep of his hand, he knocked the remaining scraps of paper from my grip. They fluttered like dying moths into the filthy, slushy water. I looked at him. His eyes were full of that familiar, towering condescension. I remembered Sophie’s first birthday back with us. She cried, saying the pearl necklace Dominic gave her was missing and that she’d seen me in her room. At first, I fought back. “I didn’t take it! Check the security cameras—” Before I could finish, Dominic took a baseball bat and smashed the camera right in front of me. I shut up instantly. He was teaching me a lesson: my truth meant nothing compared to Sophie’s tears. The necklace wasn’t in my room. It was eventually found at the bottom of the backyard pool, the string cut, pearls scattered across the tiles. Everyone in the family knew I had a near-death drowning experience as a child. I had severe aquaphobia. Even a full bathtub made me feel like I was suffocating. But that winter, Dominic had me thrown into the icy pool. “Get them,” he had said. “Every single one. Don’t come out until you find them all.” My parents watched Sophie sob into their shoulders and said nothing. They let it happen. I passed out in that freezing water multiple times. Each time, they’d wake me up with more cold water until my blue, numb fingers had found every last pearl. Since then, even the reflection of light on a water surface made me shake. Dominic knew this. He was certain I was too afraid of water—and too afraid of death—to actually jump. He didn’t know that in prison, when I used a sharpened piece of plastic to open my veins, all I felt was… peace. The ER doctor had told the guards: She has a profound desire for self-destruction. Without a support system, she won’t last. Dominic looked at my empty, hollow eyes and smirked. “Coward. You don’t even have the guts to look at the water. Think about how much Sophie must have suffered to—” He didn’t finish the sentence. I lunged forward and dove headfirst into the stinking, freezing puddle. The water closed over my head, burning my nose and throat. Getting back to my real family was my last hope for living. If I couldn’t have that, I didn’t want anything else. A second later, I was yanked out by the waist and slammed onto the muddy grass. I coughed violently, retching up dirty water. Through the blur, I saw Dominic. He was soaked, kneeling in the mud, his hands still trembling from the force of pulling me out. He was staring at me, his pupils blown wide. The look in his eyes wasn’t disdain anymore. It was disbelief. And… something else. A flicker of raw, unadulterated terror. I didn’t understand. What was he afraid of? If the “fake” died, wasn’t that what he—and everyone else—wanted? 3. I looked at the pulp in my hand—the wet, gray remains of the paper where the ink had bled into illegible clouds. A wave of exhaustion, a soul-deep weariness, washed over me. I was so tired. If I had a knife right now, could I finally just sleep? Dominic watched me, his voice finally losing its edge, turning soft, almost tentative. “Michelle… why? You weren’t like this before. Since when did you start taking my words so literally?” He was right. Since I was a toddler, he’d told me: “Michelle, you’re just a placeholder. Know your place. Sophie is my only sister.” Back then, I’d just smile and ask him for a hug. Later, I’d study until my fingers cramped to make him his favorite snacks, only for him to sneer, “You’re so pathetic, Michelle. Sophie would never beg for affection like this.” I’d still smile and hold the plate out to him. No matter how cruel he was, the little girl I used to be followed him around like a shadow. I was convinced he just had a temper, that he didn’t actually hate me. Until Sophie came back. Then I realized what he looked like when he actually loved someone. When Sophie and I were cornered by some older bullies in high school, he rushed in and pulled her behind him. He didn’t even look at me. Not once. He just walked away with her. His friend had pointed at me, stuck in the mud. “Hey, Dominic… what about the other one?” “She’s not my sister.” I watched them leave. I stayed behind to face the insults and the shoves alone. I struggled to sit up, my brain trying to conjure the ghost of the address on that paper, but the memory was fading. “Michelle, come home. Stop this,” Dominic said. It was that nauseating, self-righteous tone of “comfort” again. “The whole family is waiting. We’re having Christmas dinner.” “Dominic! You aren’t my brother! You have no right to tell me what to do!” I screamed, my voice raw and screeching. “I just want to go to my real home! To my real parents!” I swung my hand and slapped him. Hard. Dominic’s head snapped back. He froze, but his gaze dropped to my wrists. They were covered in a lattice of scars—some old and white, some jagged and fresh. He turned pale. His eyes turned red in an instant. “Michelle… your hands…” his voice shook with a sudden, sharp grief. “Did… did someone hurt you in there? I thought… I thought I paid the guards to look after you…” He looked sad. He looked… hurt. It was absurd. I had finally stopped chasing him, finally stopped calling him brother. What did he have to be sad about? I felt a surge of pure, physical nausea. “Dominic,” I said, my voice like dry ice. “Why are you acting like a martyr now?” He didn’t answer. He grabbed my arm and shoved me into the car, clicking the seatbelt shut with a snap. “We’re going to the hospital first,” he said, his voice tight as he started the engine. “I’m not going to a hospital! I’m going home! Let me out!” I thrashed against the belt, clawing at his collar, my nails leaving long, bloody furrows across his cheek. He didn’t move. He didn’t fight back. He just gripped the steering wheel, jaw set, blood dripping down his face. That silence—that suffocating, unresponsive wall—triggered a memory of the solitary confinement cell. My head began to throb. The last trace of the address vanished from my mind. I went limp. My hands fell to my sides. He glanced at me, misinterpreting my silence. He actually managed a small, pathetic smile. “Michelle… you… you still care about me, don’t you? You stopped.” I smiled back. Then, I lunged across the center console and grabbed the steering wheel, jerking it with everything I had. If I can’t go home, let’s just go to hell. SCREECH—!! The tires howled against the pavement. The car lost control, spinning and slamming into the guardrail with a bone-jarring thud. The airbags deployed with a bang. Dominic gasped for air, blood trickling from his forehead, his eyes wide with the terror of a survivor. He turned to see the look on my face. I wasn’t scared. I was disappointed. “Michelle… do you… do you want to die that badly?” I didn’t answer. I just stared at him with dead eyes. He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a whisper, a desperate plea. “Fine. Okay. No hospital. We’ll go home, okay? Just… just stay with me.” I lowered my eyes and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible “okay.” Dominic’s shoulders slumped in relief. He thought I was being “good” again. He didn’t know. I just remembered: Sophie knows where my real home is. I was going back to find her. 4. The Blackwood estate was glowing with warmth and festive lights. When we pushed through the front doors, the scent of pine and expensive candles hit me. Sophie was sitting on the sofa in a designer dress, her cheeks flushed with health, leaning into our mother’s side. “Mom, I’m only back for a few days. You didn’t have to make such a fuss,” Sophie chirped. Our father was sitting nearby, patiently peeling shrimp for her, his eyes full of adoration. “The Dean called. He said you won another award. Our Sophie is so talented; of course we have to celebrate.” It was a picture-perfect scene of domestic bliss. Dominic cleared his throat, his jaw tight. “Mom, Dad. I brought Michelle back.” The laughter died instantly. Three pairs of eyes swung toward us. First to me, then to Dominic’s soaked clothes and the bloody scratches on his face. My parents’ brows furrowed in unison. Sophie was the first to stand. She walked toward me, her voice dripping with that “concerned older sister” act she’d perfected. “Michelle, Dominic went out in the snow to get you personally. How could you do this to him?” She sighed, playing the part of the mature one. “You’re college-aged now. Can’t you be a little more sensible? Must you always make the family worry?” My mother’s face hardened. “Michelle, this is unacceptable. Your brother just got over a cold.” My father let out a cold snort. “She was always a troublemaker. Fighting in high school, coming home bruised… I suppose two years with criminals only made it worse—” “Enough.” Dominic’s voice was sharp, cutting through my father’s sentence. He looked at Sophie, his expression unusually stern. “I did this to myself. It wasn’t Michelle.” He paused, then added, “And Sophie? Michelle never went to college. Maybe think before you speak next time.” The room went tomb-silent. They stared at him, shocked. Dominic—the golden son—had never once defended the “fake” sister, let alone snapped at his precious Sophie. Sophie’s eyes filled with tears instantly. Her lip wobbled. “Fine! She’s the sister you grew up with, and I’m just the outsider! I don’t have the right to speak to her! I’m sorry I even came back!” Dominic looked conflicted, his gaze flickering away. My mother rushed to Sophie, pulling her into a protective embrace. “Dominic! How could you speak to her like that?!” Then she turned her venomous gaze on me. “And you, Michelle! You just get back and you’re already upsetting your sister. Why are you so selfish?” I looked at this woman—dripping in diamonds, her face twisted with habitual annoyance toward me—and the word “Mom” died in my throat. She wasn’t my mother. It made sense that she hated me. “Let’s just eat,” my father sighed, trying to break the tension. “Your brother made us wait for hours just for you. Sophie is starving.” I looked up. “Did I ask her to wait?” I didn’t wait for a reply. “Dominic made that choice. It has nothing to do with me.” Sophie’s eyes went wide. “Michelle! Have you lost your mind? How dare you talk to him like that!” “He’s not my brother,” I said, my voice steady and clear. “He’s your brother.” I looked at them all. “I didn’t come here to eat.” I turned to Sophie. “I came to ask for the address. My parents’ address.” “Once I have it, I’m gone. I won’t ruin your family reunion anymore.” The color drained from Sophie’s face. My mother frowned. “What are you talking about? This is your home.” “I mean my real home. My biological parents,” I said, staring Sophie down. “You told me in prison that you found them. You gave me a note. I lost it. Give it to me again. Now.” The air in the living room turned to ice. My parents looked at Sophie, their expressions turning unreadable. Sophie stammered, “Isn’t… isn’t this family good enough? Why do you have to look for—” “I have to!” I was shaking now, my voice rising to a scream. “I want to go home! I want my own parents! Let me go!!” Dominic couldn’t take it anymore. He turned to our parents, his voice exploding with repressed rage. “Just tell her! Tell her the truth! We agreed, didn’t we? We were going to give her the ‘surprise’ when she got out!” I looked at him, confused. He wouldn’t look back. As the eldest son, Dominic held weight in this house. My parents exchanged a look. Finally, my mother sighed. She looked at me, her voice suddenly forced, sweet, like she was talking to a frightened animal. “Michelle… sweetheart. The truth is… you are our biological daughter.”

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1 After relinquishing my seat as the billionaire’s wife to a penniless university student, my former mother-in-law compensated me with fifty billion euros and promptly shipped me off to Eastern Europe. During those years in Eastern Europe, I opened a small flower shop in a quaint seaside town. I found a new social circle, fell in love with a new boyfriend, and was on the verge of getting married and starting a family. Then one day, the door to my flower shop burst open. An old friend stood there, her face a mask of shock as she blurted, “You’re still alive? Why didn’t you go back to London to find Aaron Britton? Do you have any idea how frantically he’s been searching for you all these years?” I simply offered a faint smile, holding up the ring on my finger. “But I’m already married and have a child.” The words hung in the air, instantly chilling the atmosphere to an unsettling silence. At my friend’s urgent, silent prompting, I turned my head. Aaron Britton stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his noble, frosty eyes fixed on me. But my mind drifted back to our third year of marriage, when Aaron confessed he’d fallen for a university student named Alice. He asked for a divorce, offering to leave with nothing. I cried, I raged, I even begged him, casting aside all my dignity. Yet Aaron merely looked at me with cold indifference. “Mora, I’m sorry, but I don’t love you anymore.” I ran to Alice’s university like a madwoman, creating a scene that solidified her reputation as the other woman. Alice, in turn, hated me enough to run me over with her car. Lying in a pool of my own blood, my first thought was to send Alice to jail. But Aaron rushed back that very night, kneeling by my hospital bed, pleading. “Mora, please, let her go. She’s so young. I won’t divorce you; I’ll come back to the family. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” In that moment, watching him beg so humbly for another woman, I felt my heart twist into a knot of agony for the first time. But I loved him too much, loved him enough to agree to his terms. For the next three years, Aaron indeed cut all ties with Alice. Everyone said he’d turned over a new leaf. He came home punctually every day, remembered all my preferences, brewed me ginger tea during my period, and held me tight when I had nightmares. But once, while we were dining at a restaurant, he got into a furious brawl defending a harassed waitress. The moment I recognized her face, a chill colder than ice spread through me. He pulled a business card from his inner pocket and handed it to Alice, his voice low. “Go see this person. He’ll arrange a decent, easy job for you.” Alice suddenly looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and knocked the card to the floor. “I don’t want any of this. What I want, what I’ve always wanted, is just you. Aaron Britton, only you.” Alice’s tears streamed down her face. “For three years, I thought about you every single night, unable to sleep.” “I secretly went to our old dating spots and just sat there all day long.” “Aaron, why can’t we be together when we clearly love each other?” Her sobs were heart-wrenching. Aaron looked at her anguished face, his eyes swirling with profound pain and struggle. “How do you think I feel? But only by returning to my family could I protect you.” “Alice, please listen.” He turned to leave, but Alice suddenly lunged at him from behind, kissing him fiercely, heedless of their surroundings. Hidden behind a planter, I watched, transfixed, as Aaron’s Adam’s apple bobbed, making a final, desperate struggle. Then, he cupped the back of her head with one hand and passionately, fiercely, returned her kiss. I stood there, my blood seeming to freeze in my veins. I thought my heart had died three years ago, that it couldn’t ache anymore. But I was wrong. A dead heart could still be tormented. Now, seeing the undisguised passion and adoration in his eyes, I suddenly felt like those three years of steadfastness had been a colossal joke. 2 I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. I turned and stumbled towards the elevator. A large hand suddenly reached out from the side, clamping over my mouth. It was the drunk man Aaron had beaten. “That was your man, wasn’t it? He beat me up, so I’m going to make you pay.” “Thump!” A heavy punch landed on my abdomen, followed by a rain of fists and slaps on my body and face. My consciousness slowly blurred, and I finally collapsed onto the floor like a broken rag doll. Just as I thought I was going to die there, passersby rushed in and saved me. The doctor’s expression was grim after the examination. “Multiple contusions, possibly fractured ribs. We need a family member’s signature.” The nurse in charge dialed the top contact on my phone. It rang for a long time before being answered. The other end was quiet, then came a series of sounds that made my cheeks flush. A few seconds later, Aaron’s voice, feigning calmness, came through the phone. “Hello, Mora, I’m sorry, the company has an urgent overseas video conference. Drive home safely yourself. I’ll be back once I’m done.” He didn’t even wait for my reply before hastily hanging up. Lying in the hospital bed, I forced a smile that was uglier than any cry, my voice hoarse and broken. “I don’t have family. I’ll sign myself.” With the final stroke, my vision completely blackened, and I passed out. When I awoke again, I was in a hospital room permeated with the smell of disinfectant. A familiar, concerned voice spoke by my bedside. “Mora, you’re awake. How do you feel? Does it still hurt?” Looking at his face so close to mine, at the distinct dark red mark visible on his neck, I felt a wave of nausea. Seeing no response from me, he took my hand, his eyes sincere. “Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with the man who hit you. No one who harms my Mora gets away with it.” I looked at Aaron, this man I had loved for over a decade, who was now so unfamiliar that he chilled me to the bone. Some mistakes, once crossed, should have been corrected completely. Now I finally understood that some hearts, once they fly away, can never truly return. I slowly withdrew my hand, masking the surging pain and deadness in my eyes, and then nodded gently. Aaron immediately let out a sigh of relief. He thought I had, as always, chosen forgiveness and endurance. 3 After being discharged, I returned to the villa, opened the safe, and took out a yellowed divorce agreement. Aaron’s signature, made three years ago, was in the bottom right corner of the paper. At the time, he had said, “Sign it, Mora. Let’s part amicably.” I had torn the agreement to shreds like a madwoman, throwing it in his face, crying, “Aaron, I’d die before I’d sign this.” Now, looking at this agreement, which I had carefully pieced back together and preserved, I felt nothing but profound irony. With each stroke, I wrote my own name. Once done, I took a picture of the signed agreement and sent it to my lawyer. [Attorney Miller, please expedite my divorce proceedings. All terms as per the agreement, the sooner the better.] After sending the message, I started packing. It turned out that living in one place for so long, leaving only required one night. Aaron didn’t return until the next evening. He carried an exquisite gift bag, a gentle smile on his face. “Mora, look what I brought you. The limited edition bracelet from your favorite brand. I had someone bring it back from abroad.” He walked in and saw me sitting by the window, lost in thought. “You must have been bored from being in the hospital for a few days. There’s a business gala tonight; it’s a good chance to get some fresh air.” I didn’t take the gift, just raised my eyes to look at him. Only then did Aaron notice my suitcase by the wall. “What’s this?” “Just tidying up some old things. Planning to donate them.” I explained calmly, then stood up. The gala was held in the ballroom of a five-star hotel. When Aaron walked in with my hand in his, he attracted many glances. He introduced me to several important partners, behaving thoughtfully, chatting and laughing, giving the impression of a deeply loving couple. I smiled and nodded cooperatively, but my heart was utterly cold. Until a server carrying a tray of drinks approached. It was Alice. Suddenly, without warning, the crystal chandelier overhead detached and plummeted towards Aaron. In a flash, Alice, standing nearby, threw herself forward with all her might, pushing Aaron violently aside as if her life depended on it. “Crash!” The massive chandelier smashed down, landing squarely on Alice. She fell into a pool of blood, instantly losing consciousness. “Alice!” Aaron’s eyes widened with horror, and he lunged forward, kneeling beside Alice like a madman. He suddenly looked up, his bloodshot eyes roaring, “Call an ambulance, now!” He scooped up the blood-soaked Alice and rushed out, heedless of everything. In his panic and urgency, he even bumped into me, who was standing in his way. I staggered from the impact, hitting my forehead hard against a cold Roman pillar beside me. Sharp pain shot through me, and warm liquid trickled down my temple. I clung to the pillar, barely steadying myself, and when I raised a hand to touch my forehead, it came away scarlet. Aaron, meanwhile, cradling Alice, had vanished from the ballroom like a gust of wind, never once looking back at me. The surroundings were chaos – gasps, murmurs… Someone came over to ask if I was alright, but I felt as if I couldn’t hear anything. Clutching my bleeding forehead, I stumbled out of the chaotic ballroom. I didn’t go to the hospital, but found a nearby clinic for simple disinfection and a bandage. Back home, the villa was empty and still cold. I washed the blood from my face and sat on the sofa, opening my phone. The top trending video in the city was of Aaron. The video was filmed at the renowned St. Michael’s Cathedral on the city outskirts, known for its 999 steep stone steps. It was said that a truly devout person, climbing the steps on their knees, would find their prayers for safety answered most effectively. In the video, Aaron had shed his blood-stained designer suit, wearing only a thin shirt. His expression was solemn, his gaze resolute, as he arduously climbed towards the cathedral at the summit, one step, one kneel, one bow at a time. A reporter nearby held a microphone, asking, “Mr. Britton, who are you praying for? Is it for your family?” Aaron looked into the camera, his eyes tender and firm. “For the person I love most, praying for her safety.” The person I love most… I slammed my phone shut, but the suffocating pain in my chest refused to subside. 4 In the following days, Aaron never returned. Until one day, as I stepped out to throw away the trash, two police officers approached me. “Are you Ms. Mora Thorne? We’ve received a report from Ms. Alice Davies, accusing you of hiring someone to assault her, specifically instructing them to throw acid on her. We need you to come with us to assist with the investigation.” My pupils constricted. I couldn’t believe it. “I hired someone to throw acid on her?” Just then, Aaron walked over. Hearing the police’s words, his face instantly changed. “There must be a mistake, right? My wife couldn’t possibly do something like that.” The police officer’s expression was serious. “We have preliminary evidence: the suspect’s confession and relevant transfer records.” He handed a document to Aaron. Aaron took it, flipping through it quickly. The more he read, the darker his face grew, the colder his eyes became. Finally, he slammed the document onto me, the papers scattering across the floor. “Mora Thorne, tell me, what is this?” I looked down at the papers on the floor, which contained blurry screenshots of bank transfers and a handwritten confession. It stated that a woman named Thorne had instructed him to throw acid on Alice. Before I could explain, Aaron’s voice was icy and resolute. “Take her. Handle it as you see fit.” Then, he didn’t spare me another glance, turning and quickly walking away. He was rushing to see Alice. I spent an entire night in the cold detention center. The next morning, the police informed me that Alice had agreed to a settlement. I signed the papers and walked out of the detention center. Just as I was about to hail a taxi home, someone from behind covered my mouth and nose with a towel. When I regained consciousness, I felt myself stuffed inside a sack, my mouth gagged with a cloth, my hands and feet tightly bound. Faint voices reached my ears; it was Aaron and Alice. “Aaron, do we really have to do this to her? Isn’t it too much? She’s still your wife, after all.” Aaron’s voice was icy. “Too much? Did she think it was ‘too much’ when she hired someone to throw acid on you?” “You’ve undergone three skin graft surgeries, enduring unimaginable pain! I’ll use my own methods to give her a lesson she’ll never forget.” Lying in the sack, my blood seemed to freeze instantly. It was Aaron. He was the one who had me kidnapped, all to avenge Alice. The man I loved most, my husband of seven years, was doing this to me for another woman. Then, I felt the mouth of the sack tighten. Something heavy was then forced inside, pressing down on me. It was rocks. “Mmm… mmm…” I struggled wildly, trying to scream, but only muffled whimpers escaped. The sack was roughly lifted, and with a splash, I was thrown into the icy cold river. The river water instantly surged in from all directions, submerging my mouth and nose, filling my lungs. Suffocation, cold, despair. I thrashed desperately in the sack, but my hands and feet were bound, and the rocks dragged me down to the bottom. Just when I thought I was certainly going to die, the sack was suddenly pulled out of the water. I choked, greedily gasping for the freezing air. But a few seconds later, I was forced back under. This was repeated over and over. Pulled up, pushed down; pulled up, pushed down… a cruel game of cat and mouse. In the fear of imminent death and the extreme cold and pain, countless images flooded my mind uncontrollably. Sixteen years old, a blushing boy handing me a love letter under a cherry tree, clumsy handwriting, burning sincerity; Eighteen years old, at the departure gate of an international airport, he hugged me tightly: “Mora, wait for me to come back. I’ll definitely marry you.” Twenty-two years old, his first attempt at cooking for me; Twenty-five years old, at our wedding, the tears glinting in his eyes as he lifted my veil… Those beautiful, sincere affections and promises I thought would last a lifetime, it turned out they were all lies. Or perhaps they were once true, but later given to someone else. And I, like a fool, clung to the phantom of the past, unwilling to let go. The next time I was pulled out of the water, I finally couldn’t hold on any longer, and I coughed up a large mouthful of blood mixed with river water. Before my consciousness completely faded, I thought I heard Aaron’s cold voice from the bank. “That’s enough! Throw her ashore and let her fend for herself.” I don’t know how long I lay on the riverbank until a faint glimmer of dawn light stung my eyes. I struggled, using my last ounce of strength to open my phone. The screen lit up, and two unread messages popped up. The first was from Aaron: [Mora, since I chose to return to the family, I won’t do anything to betray you again. Please stop hurting Alice. She almost had her face ruined this time, and her mental state is very fragile. I’ll stay with her for a few days and then come back to you.] The second was from my lawyer: [Ms. Thorne, all divorce procedures have been completed. Your divorce certificate has been sent to your home by express delivery. I wish you all the best for your future.] I looked at these two messages and suddenly laughed. I laughed so hard I coughed up more blood, laughed until tears streamed down my face. I blacklisted Aaron’s number without hesitation, then, supporting my bruised and battered body, I shakily stood up. Every step felt like treading on knife blades, and the fractured part of my leg sent excruciating pain shooting through me. But I just bit my lip, moving forward with difficulty, one step at a time. Returning to that cold, empty villa, on the living room coffee table, there was indeed an express delivery envelope. I tore it open, and inside were two dark red divorce certificates. I picked up the one belonging to me and opened it. In the photo, I was wearing the white shirt from our wedding, smiling gently and serenely. I did not pick up Aaron’s. I gently placed the blank divorce certificate in the most conspicuous spot on the coffee table. Then, I turned and picked up the suitcase I had already packed. I took one last look at this place I had lived in for seven years, loved for seven years, and dragged myself through for seven years. No lingering attachment, no looking back. I opened the door and walked out.

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