Dustin Hayes had kept me for three years, and everyone in the circle called me his pet. The day his first love, Scarlett Vance, returned, he told me to get lost. I not only got lost but also thoughtfully handed him a thick stack of papers. Dustin thought it was a letter of apology. He scoffed, opening it, but his smile froze. It was a “Service Itemized Bill” for the past one thousand and ninety-five days: “Hand-holding fee: $5,000/time; Drink-blocking fee: $20,000/bottle; Fake orgasm fee: $100,000/time (including acting premium).” I extended my hand, neither servile nor arrogant. “Mr. Hayes, once the final payment is cleared, we’re even.” Dustin’s eyes blazed as he shredded the document. “Aurora Miller, was there no genuine feeling in you during your time in this house?” I blinked, pulling out my calculator. “Genuine feeling? That’s an extra charge, Mr. Hayes. You didn’t purchase that.” 1 Dustin’s hand loosened, and the shredded paper fluttered down like snowflakes. “Aurora Miller, you’ve been in this house for three years. I was so good to you. You treated it like a business?” His voice was a furious hiss, thick with disbelief. “Mr. Hayes, that’s not fair to say.” I straightened my back. “Your ‘goodness’ to me… are you referring to the times these past three years when you’d get drunk and call Ms. Vance’s name, and I’d have to imitate her voice to coax you to sleep?” “Or when you’d bring me to parties, letting those trust fund brats mock me as a ‘knock-off’ while you silently stood by?” “Or was it…” “Are you blaming me?” He sneered, taking a step closer, his intimidating presence pressing down on me. “Mr. Hayes, what a thing to say.” I looked up, flashing the impeccable, professional smile he used to love. “I majored in finance. I don’t do unprofitable deals. For three years, I blocked eighty-six drinks for you, dealt with twenty-four gold-diggers trying to worm their way in, and had to cater to your emotional needs every night. These are all labor costs.” “Zero—eighty-six multiplied by ten, plus…” I shoved the calculator screen into his face. “Let’s round it down to $24 million. Considering you’re bringing Ms. Vance back, I’ll give you a two percent discount. I wish you both a hundred years of happiness.” Dustin glared at the number, his chest heaving violently. “Fine. Very fine.” He waved his hand, sweeping the calculator to the floor. Dustin looked at me. “The Miller family still owes me fifty million. If you leave now, how will that debt be settled?” I crouched down, picked up the calculator, and reset it. “Mr. Hayes has a poor memory,” I said, standing up and dusting off my knees. “The merger I helped you secure last month, with the commission and my base salary, perfectly offset the last portion of the debt. The bank statement was sent to your email yesterday.” Dustin hadn’t checked his email. He sat on the couch and lit a cigarette. Smoke rose, obscuring his eyes. “So, you use me up and then want to leave?” He exhaled a smoke ring. “Scarlett just got back, and you’re in such a hurry to disrespect me?” “The contract expired,” I corrected him. “My employment with you ends today.” The sound of the fingerprint lock unlocking echoed from the entryway. The door opened. Scarlett Vance stood there in a white dress, holding a limited-edition Hermes bag. She saw the shredded paper on the floor, then looked at me. “Dustin, am I interrupting?” Scarlett stood still, clutching her bag strap. Dustin snuffed out his cigarette and stood up, walking toward Scarlett. As he passed me, he deliberately bumped my shoulder. The force was heavy. I staggered half a step, barely keeping my balance. Dustin took Scarlett’s bag, placed it on the cabinet, then turned to look at me. “Who said you could leave?” He sneered. “When you signed the contract, supplementary clause number ten stated clearly: ‘Before Party A agrees to terminate the contract, Party B must unconditionally renew for three months as a transition period.’” He lifted his chin, gesturing toward Scarlett. “Scarlett just returned from abroad. She’s delicate and can’t handle stress.” He continued, “I won’t find anyone suitable so quickly. Until I find a professional caretaker, you’ll stay and serve her.” I was stunned. “Mr. Hayes, won’t you find me an eyesore?” Dustin didn’t speak, just stared at me coldly. I took a deep breath, relighting the screen of my calculator. “That’s an extra charge.” The next morning, at six AM. I woke up precisely on time and appeared in the kitchen. Dustin had a stomach condition, so his breakfast was always freshly ground black soybean milk and warm sandwiches. Scarlett had low blood sugar, requiring bird’s nest soup no matter how late she woke. These were all part of my “professional skill set.” At seven-thirty, Dustin came downstairs. He wore a dark grey custom suit, his tie still undone. In the past, I would have walked over, taken his tie, and stood on tiptoes to knot it for him. That was my “Warm Morning Service,” priced at two thousand per instance. Today, I merely stood behind the counter, chopping fruit. Dustin walked to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. He glanced at the empty table, then at me. “My tie,” he said. I put down my knife, dried my hands, and walked over to him. But instead of taking his tie, I pulled out my phone and displayed a QR code for payment. “Tie-tying service, two thousand per instance.” I held the screen to him. “Mr. Hayes, please scan first.” Dustin’s movements halted. He stared at the QR code, his chest rising and falling slightly. “Aurora Miller,” he used my full name, “are you obsessed with money?” “Professionalism,” I replied, expressionless. “No credit.” Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Scarlett came down in silk pajamas, her face flushed with sleep. “Dustin, are you arguing so early?” She walked to Dustin’s side, naturally taking the tie from his hand. “Let me help you. Aurora used to be a socialite too; she’s not used to these servant tasks.” She stood on tiptoes, clumsily fumbling with the tie around Dustin’s neck. Dustin didn’t push her away, his eyes fixed on me. Scarlett tried three times, the tie knot crooked and loose around Dustin’s neck. “Oh, it’s so hard,” Scarlett pouted. “Dustin, am I very clumsy?” Dustin finally tore his gaze from me, looking down at Scarlett. “It’s fine. I’m not in a hurry.” He gently held Scarlett’s hands, teaching her how to tie the knot. They were close, their breaths mingling. I stood beside them, checking my watch. Seven forty-five. “Mr. Hayes, Ms. Vance,” I began. “According to the agreement, my work hours begin when you both start your meal. Since this is currently a teaching session, I’ll return to my room.” I turned to leave. “Stop.” Dustin’s voice was cold. I paused. “Come here.” Dustin pointed at the bird’s nest soup on the table. “Scarlett’s hands are sensitive to heat. You feed her.” Scarlett’s face reddened. “No need, Dustin, I can manage myself…” “Let her feed you.” Dustin looked at me, his eyes chilling. “She’s getting paid, so she should do the work.” I walked to the table and picked up the steaming bowl of bird’s nest soup. I stirred it with the spoon, a wisp of steam rising. I scooped a spoonful and brought it to Scarlett’s lips. Scarlett glanced at Dustin, then opened her mouth. The moment the spoon touched her lips, she suddenly flinched, leaning her head back and wildly swinging her hand. “It’s so hot!” she cried. The porcelain bowl crashed to the floor. The scalding bird’s nest soup splattered, a large portion hitting the back of my hand and wrist. My skin immediately turned red. Scarlett clutched her chest, her eyes welling up. “I’m sorry, Aurora, I didn’t mean to, it was really too hot…” Dustin immediately pulled Scarlett closer, checking her face and neck. “Did you get burned?” he asked, his voice anxious. After confirming Scarlett was fine, he turned to look at me. Two shiny blisters had formed on the back of my hand. Dustin’s gaze lingered on my hand for a second, then moved away. “You can’t even do such a simple task.” Dustin said. “Clean it up.” I lowered my hand, the blisters stinging as they brushed against my sleeve. “Understood,” I said. I bent down, picking up the shattered porcelain pieces from the floor. My hands pricked with blood, but I didn’t say a word. At eight PM, there was a private dinner at the Hayes mansion. It was to celebrate Scarlett’s return. Dustin had given me a black uniform, assigning me the task of serving drinks and guiding guests. I, the former partner, was now a server. Everyone in the elite circle found it amusing, eager to see the fallen socialite Aurora Miller made a spectacle of. I changed into my uniform and moved through the crowd with a tray. Someone deliberately bumped my shoulder, spilling wine. “Well, well, isn’t that Aurora Miller?” a woman in a red dress giggled, covering her mouth. “What, did Mr. Hayes not give you a severance package?” I recognized her. In the past, to curry favor with Dustin, I’d been forced to drink three shots of hard liquor for her. “Ms. Sterling,” I took out a cloth and wiped the tray. “Champagne is ten thousand a bottle. You spilled half a glass, so that’s five thousand for the damage. Card or transfer?” The woman’s face changed. “Are you crazy?” “If you don’t want to pay,” I pointed to Dustin not far away, “that’s my employer. You can complain to him and have him deduct it from my salary, but he usually demands ten times the compensation from the person who caused the damage.” The woman glared at me and left. In the center of the hall, Dustin, arm in arm with Scarlett, was toasting guests. Scarlett wore a couture gown, a sapphire necklace adorning her neck. I had seen that necklace before. It was my late mother’s heirloom, and the most valuable item I’d pawned to Dustin. I stood in the shadows, watching the necklace sparkle under the lights. Dustin seemed to sense my gaze and turned his head. He raised his wine glass, toasting vaguely in my direction. A hint of mockery played on his lips. Scarlett followed his gaze, then leaned in and whispered something to Dustin. Dustin nodded. Scarlett gracefully walked towards me. She stood before me, her fingers caressing the necklace. “Aurora, Dustin said this necklace was your mother’s,” Scarlett said with a smile. “It’s beautiful, I really love it. He said he gave it to me, you don’t mind, do you?” I looked at the sapphire. “It’s his property,” I said, my voice low. “It has nothing to do with me.” “As long as you don’t mind.” Scarlett took a glass of red wine from a waiter’s tray. “To show my gratitude, I’d like to toast you.” She held out the glass to me. I reached out to take it. Scarlett’s hand suddenly released its grip. The glass didn’t land in my hand; instead, it dropped directly onto her skirt. Red wine splattered, staining the white fabric. “Ah!” Scarlett shrieked, stepping back two paces, even stumbling and falling to the floor. The surroundings instantly fell silent. Dustin pushed through the crowd, rushing over to help Scarlett up. “What happened?” he asked, his voice dark as he looked at Scarlett’s disheveled state. Scarlett’s tears fell. “It’s not Aurora’s fault… I just didn’t hold it steady… maybe Aurora just didn’t want me to have the necklace…” Dustin’s head snapped up to look at me. I looked back at him. I offered no defense, because defending myself was not within my service scope. “Apologize,” Dustin said. I didn’t move. “Aurora Miller, I told you to apologize.” Dustin stood up, taking a step closer to me. “You’re a server here now. You soiled a guest’s dress; shouldn’t you apologize?” Everyone around us was watching the drama unfold. I calculated. If I didn’t apologize, he might deduct all my outstanding payments, or even use it as an excuse to keep the necklace. If I apologized, my dignity would be compromised, but I’d get the money. Dignity wasn’t worth anything. I bent at the waist, a ninety-degree bow. “I’m sorry, Ms. Vance,” my voice was steady. “My hand slipped and soiled your dress. I will cover the cleaning fee.” Dustin looked at me, then suddenly let out a cold laugh. “Compensation? Can you afford it?” He grabbed a bottle of red wine from the table. He pulled out the cork. Red liquid poured over my head. It was icy cold, sticky, and smelled of alcohol, running over my eyes, into my mouth. “This is compensation.” Dustin placed the empty bottle on the table. I closed my eyes, enduring the flow of liquid. “Understood, Mr. Hayes,” I said, wiping wine from my face. “Are we even now?” Scarlett, seemingly “shocked,” developed a high fever that night. Dustin summoned the entire team of family doctors to the villa. I also had a fever. The wine poured on me hadn’t been washed off in time, coupled with days of non-stop work, and I too had fallen ill. But I was in the maid’s quarters; no one knew. At 10 PM. My phone suddenly vibrated. It was the hospital. “Ms. Miller, your father has suffered a sudden heart attack and is in critical condition. He needs surgery immediately, costing fifty thousand dollars. If payment isn’t received within half an hour, we can’t proceed.” I sat up in bed, my head spinning. I checked my balance. Only thirty thousand. All my previous money had gone to debt, and my salary hadn’t been processed yet. I stumbled out of the room and rushed upstairs to the second floor. The master bedroom door was ajar. Dustin was sitting by the bed, feeding Scarlett water. I pushed the door open. Dustin frowned, turning back. “Who let you in? Get out.” I clutched the doorframe, supporting myself. “Dustin,” my voice was hoarse, “pay me my wages. Now.” “Are you insane?” Dustin put down the water glass, lowering his voice. “Quiet down, Scarlett just fell asleep.” “My dad is in the hospital, fighting for his life.” I stared at him. “I need money. It’s what I’m owed.” Dustin stood up, walked to the door, pushed me out, and then closed the door behind him. In the hallway, he looked down at me. “Your dad’s fighting for his life?” Dustin sneered. “Aurora Miller, to get money, you’d even tell such a lie? Didn’t you say last month your dad was recovering?” “It’s true.” I grabbed his sleeve. “Please. Give me the remaining payment. Even twenty thousand would help.” Dustin shook off my hand. I hit the wall, sliding to the floor. “No.” Dustin straightened his cuff. “If you want money, kneel here. Kneel until morning, and I’ll believe you.” With that, he turned to go back into the room. “Dustin!” I called out to him. “That’s a human life!” Dustin stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Scarlett had a nightmare just now; she needs company,” he said. “Don’t make any more noise, or you won’t get a single penny.” The door closed. The hallway was utterly silent. I pulled out my phone, sending messages to everyone in my contacts, begging for money. No one replied. Old friends had long since blocked me. Time ticked by, second by second. Until midnight. My phone vibrated again. It was a text message, from the hospital. [Patient John Miller, despite all efforts, passed away at eleven fifty-eight PM. Please come to the hospital as soon as possible to handle the arrangements.] I stared at the words on the screen. I knew each one, but I couldn’t grasp what they meant together. From inside the room, Scarlett’s soft voice reached me: “Dustin, I’m scared…” Then Dustin’s gentle whisper: “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” I pushed myself up against the wall, slowly standing. The fever seemed to have broken. My body felt strangely cold, and strangely light. I turned, and went downstairs. Back in the maid’s room, I opened my suitcase. Inside were only a few old clothes. I took out the “Service Itemized Bill” I’d kept for three years and placed it on the table. Picking up a pen, I wrote a line on the last page. [Funeral expenses: Priceless.] [Status: Paid by Aurora Miller herself.] [Balance: We’re even.] I tore off this page and taped it to the door. Then, dragging my suitcase, I walked out of the Hayes mansion. Outside, it was raining heavily. I didn’t have an umbrella. The rain washed away the lingering smell of red wine on me. I pulled the SIM card from my phone and threw it into a roadside drain. This time, no calculator was needed. Our accounts were settled.

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The day I was released from prison, Selena Lark stood by the roadside, sheltering under a black umbrella. Beside her was a little girl, whose eyes were uncannily like Nathan Slate’. Her voice, dampened by the rain, trembled: “Alec.” “I’ve waited eight years for you.” I walked around her, my steps unwavering. The little girl suddenly rushed over and hugged my leg: “Mommy says you’re my daddy.” My body stiffened. I looked down at the pendant clutched in her hand. It was the token of love I’d given Selena. But I’d smashed it the day our divorce was finalized. “Let go.” I pried her hands away, my voice icy. Selena’s face instantly paled. She caught up to me, grabbing my wrist. “Alec, I know you hate me, but after you went in, I had an early birth with Sandy. I only found out she was Nathan’s child after a paternity test!” She pleaded, “I’m sorry for what I did to you, but Sandy is innocent. If you’re willing, she can take care of you in your old age. I’ll talk to Nathan; he wouldn’t dare disagree.” “No need.” I pulled my hand free, my gaze calm. “I don’t need her, and I don’t need you, who sent me to prison.” After all, someone had been waiting for me outside all these years. I’d promised her we’d get married the moment I was free. 1 “Alec, how can you say that? I had my reasons, you—” “Does it still matter?” I interrupted her, my voice cold. Ignoring her complicated expression, I turned and walked away. But I hadn’t expected the scene to be captured by a hidden reporter. The hashtag #AlecBriarDisownsDaughterUponReleaseFromPrison# broke a hundred million views within three hours. In the candid photos: I pushed away the little girl’s hand, Selena frantically chasing me in the rain. She held a ruined high heel in one hand, her daughter’s hand in the other, clutching the umbrella pitifully between her shoulder and head. The caption read: [Abandoning his wife and daughter + corporate fraud. How does a man like this deserve to be released?] The comment section exploded. [Ms. Lark is so tragic! Scammed out of her money and feelings by Alec, raising her child alone, and now being treated like this!] [That little girl is so pathetic, called ‘Daddy’ only to be harshly pushed away. Alec is utterly inhuman!] [Where’s Mr. Slate? Where’s our Ms. Lark’s knight in shining armor? Why isn’t he protecting her!] Nathan Slate, now an industry titan. And my former mentee. He quickly posted an update, a photo of him holding Sandy, with the caption: [Some people harbor dark intentions, some let bygones be bygones. Right and wrong have always been in the heart.] Below it were comments overflowing with sympathy for Selena and curses hurled at me, calling me heartless. I turned off my phone, walking alone into the rain. Just as I reached my rented room in the old part of town, there was a knock at the door. It was Mr. Thompson, my father’s old subordinate. He handed me a rusty USB drive: “Young master, the late chairman hid this in his safe. He said only you could see it.” I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Mr. Thompson, don’t call me ‘young master’ anymore. The Briar family is ruined.” I paused, my grip tightening on the USB drive, knuckles white. “My father… how did he die?” Eight years ago, after I was imprisoned, my father’s company went bankrupt overnight. Even the news of his death by jumping from a building was told to me by a prison guard. Mr. Thompson’s eyes reddened: “The chairman didn’t commit suicide. He was pushed. The scene was staged to look like an accident.” I plugged the USB drive into my laptop. The moment the video loaded, a chill spread through my veins. In the footage, my father was bound and thrown to the ground. Nathan Slate held a blood-stained knife to his throat. Selena Lark stood nearby, her abdomen slightly swollen, her face filled with terror: “Dad, just hand over the documents. I’m pregnant; Nathan can’t get into trouble!” My father trembled with rage: “Selena, you fool! Alec gave you everything, what is this Nathan Slate? Our Briar family showed him such kindness, and you’re conspiring with him to harm us!” “Dad, I had no choice!” Selena’s voice was tearful. “Sandy can’t be without a father. Alec is already in prison; if Nathan also falls, what will happen to us, mother and child?” She continued, “Just consider it for your granddaughter; hand over the items.” “You… you want my granddaughter to recognize her enemy as her father? You’re truly something!” Nathan Slate sneered, pushing the blade deeper. “Stop wasting time with him! Old man, don’t be ungrateful. If you don’t speak, I’ll make your granddaughter watch you die!” The video abruptly cut off amid my father’s enraged roar. I slammed the laptop shut. The fury in my chest threatened to consume all reason. My phone rang abruptly. An unknown number. But when I answered, it was the voice etched into my bones. “Alec, are you alright? Did you find a place to stay?” Selena Lark’s voice carried a cautious probe. “I know you hate me now, but I truly had difficulties back then.” “Difficulties?” I curled my lip, memories flooding back. In my senior year of high school, Selena was cornered in an alley by thugs who tried to steal her living expenses. I rushed forward, taking three punches for her, and slipped her my last fifty dollars. She was saved by me, crying that she had no money, all her family’s income went to support her younger brother. Even next semester’s tuition was uncertain. Seeing a delicate girl sobbing heartbrokenly before me, my heart softened. I ended up giving her the money I had saved for my own tuition. I said it was fine, my family wasn’t short on money, I’d just ask my father for more. But behind her back, I worked one odd job after another. Classes during the day, part-time jobs at night. It took me three full months to save enough for new tuition. Unfortunately, she eventually found out. That night, she couldn’t bear to take the bus, choosing to walk to save a dollar. I was hit by a bottle from a customer at a night market stall. She rushed up to protect me. Though much smaller than me, she erupted with astonishing strength. She wielded the shattered half of the bottle, roaring: “Who dares bully Alec, I’ll kill him! If you’re not afraid of death, come on!” That night, two vulnerable souls huddled together, and our feelings for each other grew unconsciously. After graduating from college, we squeezed into a rented apartment to start a business. She would hunch over the desk, drawing blueprints, while I stayed up all night writing code. When hungry, we’d cook a bowl of instant noodles and share it. She held my face and said: “Alec, when we succeed, I’ll marry you and be good to you my whole life.” The day our startup succeeded, I knelt on one knee and placed a custom ring on her finger: “Selena Lark, for the rest of our lives, I’ll protect you completely.” She cried and nodded, promising never to betray me. And Nathan Slate, he was my junior from my third year of college. His family was poor, his mother critically ill, his father had been in a truck accident, leaving the family deeply in debt. At that time, my father had already succeeded in his business, owning his first company. Upon learning of Nathan’s situation, my father generously covered all his mother’s medical expenses and sponsored his education. Nathan, with red eyes, knelt in our living room, swearing: “Alec, Uncle, you are like my second parents. I will definitely repay you well in the future.” My father patted his shoulder and said: “Work hard with Alec; our Briar family will not treat you unfairly.” I hired him into the company, personally teaching him core technologies, and gave him important projects to gain experience. Even when his mother passed away, I stayed with him for three days and nights, covering his funeral expenses. My father treated him like his own son, inviting him home for meals on holidays and stuffing red envelopes with cash into his hand. He even used his connections to sort out his sister’s enrollment issues. My father often said: “Nathan, you and Alec are like brothers. You’ll grow the company together in the future, supporting each other.” But our heartfelt generosity was met with a stab in the back. My new technology was at a critical stage. Nathan frequently stayed in the office until late at night, under the guise of asking for guidance. I answered all his questions without reservation, even giving him unencrypted code for reference. Selena also started coming home late more often. She always carried a strange perfume scent. Much later, I found out she wore perfume to cover up something sickening. But when I asked, she only said work was busy and told me not to overthink it. She also said Nathan was family and we should take good care of him. It wasn’t until the night before the tech launch that I caught her and Nathan kissing in the office. My core code was being used as a cushion, pressed under Selena’s bodycon dress. Caught in the act, she showed no remorse. “Alec, I’m sorry.” “Nathan doesn’t have as good a family background as you. The new technology can only achieve its maximum value with him.” I clenched my fist, my knuckles turning white. I slammed it on the desk, blood instantly staining the documents. “I ate instant noodles with you for three years, shielded you from countless difficulties, pulled you out of the mud, and now you’re telling me you’ve changed your mind?” “Alec, don’t get agitated.” Nathan wrapped his arm around Selena’s waist, looking at me provocatively. “Those were all your choices. A respectable Briar family heir wouldn’t want to take back such trivial things, would he?” Seeing Selena’s cautious, on-guard expression, I laughed until I was breathless, but tears welled up. “This company, my technology, everything I have, who was it all for? Selena Lark, you said you’d never betray me. Were your vows just meaningless words?” She turned her face away, her voice cold. “Vows aren’t to be taken seriously, Alec. Let’s part amicably.” I thought that night’s betrayal was hell on earth. Until the car accident, when I was severely injured and fell into a coma. When I woke up, what awaited me wasn’t comfort, but cold handcuffs. Selena Lark stood in the witness box, wearing a proper suit, her eyes cold: “I personally saw Alec tamper with data, steal company technology, and attempt to frame Nathan Slate.” She even produced fabricated chat records. Every word, every sentence, nailed me to the pillar of shame. Watching her righteously denounce me, at that moment, I no longer had the strength to even defend myself. Three months into my imprisonment, Selena came to see me. She wore an expensive dress, her makeup perfect. A stark contrast to my prison uniform. She pushed a divorce agreement across to me: “Alec, sign it. I had no choice.” “I’m pregnant, the child is yours. You can’t let her be born with a father in prison.” She added, “I’m begging you, let me go.” I looked at her, then suddenly laughed, a profound sorrow piercing my heart. “You and he conspired to harm my parents, ruined my life, and now you’re asking me to let you go?” My voice grew increasingly frantic. “If I let you go, who will let me go? Who will let the Briar family go?!” Her voice was pleading, yet her attitude was condescending. “For the sake of all our years together, don’t make things difficult for me.” She pressed, “Sign it. It’s better for both of us.” I stared at the woman I once loved to my bones, my heart feeling as if countless needles were piercing it. My hand trembled as I picked up the pen and signed my name on the divorce agreement. Each stroke was like carving my own tombstone. From that day on, my youth, all my love and faith, came to an abrupt end. When the news came that my father, unable to bear the blow, had jumped to his death, I screamed in rage in prison, only to be met with the cold stares of the guards. Meanwhile, they—one soared in success with the technology I developed, the other, pregnant with her enemy’s child, took over my father’s company. They reveled in everything that should have been mine. “Alec? Are you listening?” Selena Lark’s voice pulled me back to the present. Staring at the paused video on the screen, my voice was hoarse: “So, Nathan Slate couldn’t get into trouble, but I could? My parents could?” “I didn’t mean that!” She quickly defended herself. “I was pregnant with Sandy, desperate, and Nathan threatened me. If I didn’t cooperate, he’d kill my brother! I was forced!” I scoffed. “Didn’t your brother break ties with you long ago, with my help? Didn’t your so-called leech family already get a million dollars to cut that connection?” I continued, “What, the moment Nathan Slate appeared, your relatives resurrected? And you, who always resented your family, suddenly found love for your brother again?” I laughed until tears streamed down my face. “Selena Lark, you’re truly disgusting.” “Alec, I know you’ve suffered.” Her voice was tearful. “I’ve been thinking of you all these years. How have you been since your release? Is your living situation okay? Do you have money? I can help you.” “No need.” I hung up directly and blocked her number. But she seemed unwilling to give up, switching to another number and calling again. Text messages arrived one after another. “Alec, I know you still care about me, otherwise you wouldn’t hate me so much.” “Sandy misses you terribly. She always asks where her daddy is. She’s always thought of you as her real father. I haven’t told Nathan.” “I can make it up to you for what happened back then, if only you’re willing to forgive me.” I looked at those texts, feeling nothing but profound irony. After blocking the seventh number, I thought Selena Lark would give up. Unexpectedly, she quieted down, but Nathan Slate began to flaunt their affection online. He posted a set of family photos. Selena nestled in his arms, Sandy seated between them, all three smiling happily. The caption: “Eight years of companionship, grateful for you. Selena, Sandy, having you is my greatest happiness.” Immediately afterward, he posted a video. He had previously taken Selena and Sandy on a vacation abroad. In the video, he personally placed a necklace around Selena’s neck, making a heartfelt confession: “Thanks to your trust and companionship back then, we’ve made it to today. For the rest of our lives, I’ll protect you both with my life.” The hashtag #NathanSelenaEightYearsOfDeepLove# quickly shot to the top of trending topics. Netizens offered their blessings, and in passing, castigated me again. [In comparison, Alec is even worse!] [Ms. Lark and Mr. Slate are a match made in heaven. Alec is just a clown!] [Poor Mr. Slate, so magnanimous after being framed by Alec. No wonder Ms. Lark chose him!]

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I was infamous throughout Riverton as a jealous and vicious woman, quick to lash out at my husband, Jackson Byers, if anything displeased me. Every woman who came near Jackson, even those who merely spoke a word to him, I personally dealt with. Everyone advised him to divorce me, yet he’d repeatedly endure bruises, defending me against criticism and disputes. Everyone assumed he was terrified by my ruthless methods. All the lawyers in Riverton banded together to sue for his divorce from me. But he withdrew the suit every single time: “I love Phoebe, and my life only has one option: being widowed. I kindly ask all other women to automatically keep their distance from me.” It wasn’t until the night he withdrew the suit for the hundredth time that another man, a stranger, pressed a gun to my forehead: “Jackson loves you so much; he would never cheat. My sister was innocent! All those girls were innocent! Why couldn’t you just leave them alone?” I didn’t even open my eyes, just curled my lips and turned over: “If he truly loved me, he wouldn’t be flirting with other women!” I added, “Tomorrow, I have six more ‘packages’ to handle. If you want to know the truth, you’ll have to find a way to follow me.” … I woke up to find a bodyguard in the house. Before I could speak, Jackson proactively introduced him: “Phoebe, this is the bodyguard I specifically hired for you, Michael King.” The man who had pointed a gun at my head last night bowed respectfully: “Madam, your safety will be my responsibility from now on.” I pushed Jackson away, scoffing, “This scrawny dog? Can he swing a club or wield a knife?” Seeing my dissatisfaction with Michael, Jackson immediately moved to fire him. Michael suddenly looked up, his eyes burning with anger at my mockery. Catching sight of his fist clenching in his pocket, I finally spoke: “So, do you want to protect me, the universally reviled vixen? Or do you want to seize the opportunity to kill me?” Without waiting for his answer, I lightly patted Jackson’s shoulder. “Don’t wait for me for dinner tonight, I have plans with a friend!” I gave Michael a meaningful look, then grabbed my bag and got into the car. Just as the car door was about to close, a pair of hands gripped the handle. The next second, Michael King dropped to his knees, pleading with me: “Madam, I cannot lose this job!” I finally looked at him squarely. As expected of a man who could break into my room in the middle of the night—flexible and adaptable, capable of great things. I averted my gaze, closing my eyes to rest. Jackson sternly ordered Michael: “Protect my wife. If she loses even a single hair, I’ll personally chop you into pieces!” I raised my hand, and Michael started the car. “Madam, where to first?” “Deep Glen Hotel.” Before opening the door, I calmly told Michael, “Inside is the first one I need to handle today. You can learn from it.” I pushed the door open, and the young model who had found Jackson’s car keys yesterday shrieked in terror. “Mrs. Byers… I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again…” The model was tied up, frantically shrinking into the corner of the wall in fright. I hadn’t even done anything, and she was already streaming tears. The next second, I pushed her down, straddling her, and unleashed a barrage of actions. “Mrs. Byers, I’m sorry, please let me go. I really didn’t know those were Mr. Byers’s keys when I picked them up…” After fumbling around her abdomen for a bit, I was quite disappointed. But I took the opportunity to force a handful of pills into her mouth, then pulled out my phone to snap pictures of her disheveled state. “Get out of Riverton. Don’t let me see you again.” My voice held no tremor. The young model, as if pardoned, clutched her throat and scrambled away, practically rolling. I unhurriedly cleaned my hands with disinfectant, then looked at Michael: “Did you learn anything? There are five more to go. Your turn or mine?” Michael gritted his teeth, demanding, “Why? She never intended to seduce Mr. Byers. She was innocent with him. Why are you so cruel to people?” “Cruel? This is just the beginning!” The next second, I posted the young model’s photos online. Moments later, the comment section was, as usual, inundated with insults. “So, you let me follow you, to personally watch you inflict abuse, because you’re certain I wouldn’t dare kill you?” A gun was pressed to my forehead again. I brushed the gun aside, smiling faintly. “Kill me, and you’ll never know the truth.” Michael put away his gun and accompanied me to deal with the second woman. This was a college student, Sarah Greene, who had accidentally rear-ended Jackson’s car. Sarah had just gotten her driver’s license, and on her first day with her new car, she hit Jackson’s Porsche. She cried, kowtowing to me: “Mrs. Byers, I really didn’t mean to rear-end Mr. Byers. I’ll pay whatever it costs. Please don’t hurt me, I don’t want to die…” I pulled out a self-defense baton, aiming for her bulging abdomen: “According to custom, as long as you see the error of your ways, I’ll know what to do.” Before the baton could fall, she wet herself in fear, frantically kowtowing to me: “Mrs. Byers, I don’t want to die. My mother raised me with such hardship; if I die, she won’t survive alone. Please let me go…” The stench from the mess beneath her made me immediately throw the baton to Michael: “You do it!” Michael clutched the self-defense baton, his eyes bloodshot. I ignored him, simply tossing him a box of pills with no packaging or instructions. “If you can’t bring yourself to hit her, then feed her these, and then you both go to the bathroom!” With that, I turned to my bag to retrieve my frantically vibrating phone. Ignoring the malicious insults, I routinely opened the camera. Unexpectedly, I accidentally touched a live stream that popped up on my phone. The familiar sight made me turn around in surprise. My voice trembling, I excitedly asked Michael, “Are you filming me? And live-streaming?” But he asked me, aghast, “You gave her drugs, and you want me to… to do that to her?” I lunged at Michael like a madwoman, patting him down. Seizing the opportunity, I whispered, “Quickly feed her the medicine, then take her to the restroom! Let’s be quick!” But the next second, Michael slammed the baton heavily onto my head. “You want me to take advantage and assault Sarah, then spread malicious rumors about her to control her? How can there be such a disgusting vixen like you?!” Warm blood instantly gushed out, and my vision turned red. After I fell to the ground, the live stream chat erupted in cheers: [Well done! Brother, you did what we’ve long wanted to do!] [That vixen deserves a lesson! She really thought she had supernatural powers, but she’s just flesh and blood!] [Brother, quickly rescue this student! She can’t end up tragically dead like that young model!] …That young model died? Was I too late? Lost in thought, Michael kicked me again, then left with Sarah. Sarah, however, dared not go with him, insisting on leaving alone. I desperately clutched Michael’s leg: “She can’t leave! Quickly give her the medicine! I’m doing this for her own good!” Meeting my pleading gaze, Michael hesitated. Thousands of viewers in the live stream furiously scrolled messages: [Brother, don’t be swayed by her! Giving someone drugs is called ‘doing good’?] [That vixen’s medicine is definitely not good news. Absolutely don’t give it to the girl! It could be deadly!] Seeing Sarah seizing the chance to run, I pulled out a dagger from my bag and forcefully threw it at her. Thankfully, it struck her right leg. I chased after her, intending to force the medicine down Sarah’s throat, but Michael blocked me at every turn. “What kind of medicine is this?” he demanded. “A laxative. If you want to know the truth, quickly give it to her! Any later and it might be too late…” Michael raised his hand and slapped my face. “I don’t believe it! There’s definitely something wrong with this medicine!” I was knocked to the ground by his slap. In desperation, I picked up the dagger and again stabbed Sarah, who was trying to escape. The entire internet was shocked by my ruthlessness and madness, with some netizens suggesting calling the police to arrest me. But more netizens rejected the idea. [Can’t call the police, otherwise Jackson, that love-struck fool, will surely protect her with his life!] Millions of netizens quickly signed an electronic petition, clamoring: [Phoebe Stone, go to hell!] [I bet some of the hundreds of women she ‘dealt with’ before died just like Anya Zhao!] [Since the law can’t punish her, then let justice punish her!] [Those who can go to the scene, quickly unite to eliminate this cancer! She must confess her crimes before Jackson finds out!] [Yes! The law doesn’t punish the masses! Let’s move!] I looked at these comments, brimming with anticipation. Michael also saw the public screen. He pulled out his gun and aimed it at me, waiting for more righteous people to judge me. Sarah gasped in pain, cursing me: “Mrs. Byers, you are so domineering and venomous, you’ll get your comeuppance sooner or later!” Hearing the screech of tires outside the warehouse, I smiled, spitting out a mouthful of blood, and whispered, “I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you all; Jackson won’t let anything happen to me!” The next second, Mrs. Byers’s mother and a crowd of people surged into the abandoned warehouse. She also brought a restraining order. It was a court order strictly prohibiting me from approaching Jackson, and strictly prohibiting me from leaving the house. “You wretch, let’s see how you bully my son this time!” But I merely smiled. I looked past her, coldly speaking: “Jackson Byers, is this what you so boastfully call your love for me?” Mrs. Byers’s mother, accompanied by a team of lawyers, surrounded the arriving Jackson, fearing I might lose control and hurt someone. Then, in an effort to curry favor, she handed the restraining order to Jackson: “Son, look, even the court can’t stand it anymore. You can finally get rid of this vixen!” But Jackson took the restraining order, glanced at it, and tore it to shreds: “Mother, if you force me to divorce Phoebe again, we’ll cut ties!” The surrounding lawyers were so enraged they wanted to open his head and look inside right there. “Mr. Byers, you have money, you have good looks. Why are you so fixated on this vixen?” “Even in a matriarchal society, no one is as arrogant as her!” “Besides, she committed murder an hour ago! She just stabbed this young girl. You, a great philanthropist, can you bear for that young model to die so mysteriously?” He pressed, “You need to think clearly. If you continue to shield her, to clean up her messes, then you are also a murderer, an accomplice!” Jackson, however, merely elegantly tossed the shredded pieces into the air and called his assistant: “Liam, Phoebe has been wronged again today. Go hurry customs to clear the shipment; I want that Bugatti in the garage tonight!” Mr. Davies, the lead lawyer, was so angry his chest heaved violently. He had been practicing for thirty years and had never seen anyone so pathetic and masochistic—every time they met, Jackson was bruised, and his first words were either to withdraw a lawsuit or to wholeheartedly clean up his abusive wife’s messes. At this moment, half of Jackson’s face was still a terrible purple, yet his lips curved upwards, his gaze at me utterly doting. Mr. Davies quickly pinched his philtrum, then pulled out a divorce agreement and handed it to Jackson: “Mr. Byers, life is short. Can’t you live for yourself? I know you love her, but she’s a murderer, she’s going to prison soon. Why hold onto this marriage? I’m begging you, divorce her, alright?” He pressed, “Or do you love her so much that you’ve lost all sense of right and wrong, insisting on spending the rest of your life with a murderer?” Jackson’s usual gentle smile froze instantly, his eyes losing some of their warmth. “I said, I will never divorce Phoebe in this lifetime. The only way we part is if one of us dies!” Everyone present was so frustrated they felt like smashing the walls. “What spell has Phoebe Stone cast on you that makes you want to give her your life?” “Last week she pushed a college student who brushed past you down the stairs. Yesterday she knocked a filing intern into the hospital. Today she brazenly killed someone, and your face—how many days a month is it normal? Can’t you be strong just once?” Mr. Davies’ roar made the windows tremble, but it only elicited Jackson’s cold reply. “Even if Phoebe beats me to death, I will gladly accept it!” He continued, “Besides, Phoebe is just a bit quick-tempered, not a vixen. I will compensate all those people for the mistakes she made when she lost control. They have no complaints, so why are you more anxious than the emperor?” Mr. Davies was beyond furious, pointing at me and roaring, “Jackson Byers! That young model was killed by her! Wake up, will you? Even if you love her madly, can you at least have some moral compass?!” Someone, unable to stand it anymore, tried to call the police to arrest me. But Jackson’s people stopped them. “If Phoebe is truly guilty, I will atone for her sins!” A crowd of people, unable to persuade Jackson, could only glare at me with resentment: “Phoebe Stone, you are narrow-minded and vicious. You’ll get your comeuppance sooner or later!” They continued, “If you have any conscience left, actively divorce and turn yourself in!” Jackson’s sword-like gaze swept over those people: “If you want to make trouble for Phoebe, you’ll have to step over my dead body!” With that, he stepped forward with an apologetic expression, forcefully picking me up. “Phoebe, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault for making you suffer…” He then instructed his assistant to hand Sarah a check for one million dollars. “This is a small apology on behalf of my wife. Do you choose to forgive her, or pursue further action?” Everyone shouted: “Young lady, don’t be swayed by money! Let’s all work together to remove this blight from society!” Sarah hesitated, then ultimately accepted the check. “Actually, Mrs. Byers just loves Mr. Byers too much. I was the one who hit Mr. Byers’s car; I was at fault first…” Everyone was stunned, and even their perception of Jackson changed.

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My roommate was a prankster. One summer, while rock climbing together, he secretly untied my safety rope to amuse my girlfriend. My girlfriend laughed heartily at the sight of me dangling in mid-air. Immediately after, I fell from a great height and fractured my spine. Seeing me speechless from the pain, my roommate sneered, “It was just a joke. I didn’t realize his physical fitness was so poor. What an embarrassment to us sports students.” After my injury, my lower body was paralyzed, my future was ruined, and I suffered from depression. I wanted to pursue criminal charges against my roommate, but my girlfriend stopped me, “You’re already paralyzed. Do you really want Noah to not graduate?” The day they publicly announced their relationship, I maneuvered my wheelchair and, in despair, jumped from the rooftop. When I reopened my eyes, I was back on the day of the rock climbing incident. 1 “Jacob, you’re so grounded, you don’t suit such stylish climbing shoes. Can I try them on?” My roommate, Noah,’s voice echoed in my ears, startling me into a cold sweat. I quickly checked my hands and feet—they moved freely; I wasn’t paralyzed. Had I been reborn? In my previous life, after suffering academic setbacks and romantic betrayal, I chose an extreme way to end my life. But unexpectedly, I was reborn, back to the day of the rock climbing trip that summer. Seeing me in a daze, Noah sounded a little impatient. “Jacob, what are you staring at? You’re not pretending to be deaf because you don’t want to lend me these shoes, are you?” My thoughts were pulled back. I nodded. “Of course.” I added, “Try them on, go ahead.” I had asked a friend abroad to buy these climbing shoes; they weren’t cheap, and I hadn’t even worn them once myself. Noah’s spirits immediately lifted. He grabbed the shoes and started putting them on. “These shoes aren’t cheap, right? Too bad you’re so unfashionable. Even the most expensive shoes look like bargain bin items on you.” He continued, “My style suits their price better.” Noah strutted in front of the mirror, posing with the shoes, making my stomach churn. If not for legal restraints, I would have long ago kicked him off the balcony. But I knew I couldn’t. And besides, if Clara found out, she wouldn’t let me get away with it. In my previous life, it was she who prevented me from pursuing criminal charges against Noah. She said Noah was her best friend and just liked to joke around. But if Noah had been the one injured, I suspect Clara would have still sided with Noah without hesitation. Regardless, I had to find a way to prevent myself from being harmed again in this life. Clara and I were top students at the Metropolis Sports Academy. After a training session, the coach approached me, wanting me to participate in the school’s special selection competition for the national team. Joining the national team was every sports student’s dream. But there was only one spot, and my performance was more consistent. So, I followed his advice and signed up for the competition. But unexpectedly, Clara’s mother unilaterally canceled my registration. “Jacob, if you’re serious about Clara, you need to plan for the future. What about the national team? Even if you join, what then? Can it buy you a car or a house? Don’t get me wrong, but how many young couples have fallen apart because of reality?” She pressed, “Besides, national team training is too demanding. If you neglect Clara, aren’t you afraid she’ll be snatched away by someone else? Love without money is just a pile of sand. I hope you can be down-to-earth and not waste your time on these things.” After hearing these words, I was a little confused. “But, Mrs. Thorne, if I join the national team, I’ll have the chance to bring glory to our country in the future. That’s also my dream.” I questioned, “Do I have to give up my dream to be with Clara? Besides, I don’t think a marriage where one party is sacrificed for the other can last.” But before I could finish, she interrupted me. “Oh, why won’t you listen, child? I’m doing this for your own good.” She continued, “Look at Noah, he’s about your age and already preparing to take over his family’s company. I don’t expect you to achieve anything grand, but at least don’t let my Clara feel embarrassed in public, alright?” In my previous life, even though I was unwilling, for Clara’s sake, I still gave up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And the one who ultimately joined the national team was Clara. Three years later, with her beautiful looks, she became a well-known female athlete in the sports world. It wasn’t until she won an international competition and excitedly embraced Noah that I discovered I had only paved the way for someone else. If not for that accident, if I hadn’t given up the national team selection, would everything have been different? Taking back what they stole seemed more impactful than mere revenge. This time, I wanted to see what kind of trouble these two would stir up without me, the naive fool. 2 While I was lost in thought, Noah had already skillfully put on my climbing shoes. He also casually slipped into my new windbreaker. Anyone who didn’t know would think these were his. Just then, Noah took a call, then turned to urge me, “Jacob, are you ready? Clara’s rushing us to come down.” I looked at his outfit, a bit displeased. “You’ve taken my new climbing shoes and windbreaker. What am I supposed to wear?” A hint of sarcasm flashed in Noah’s eyes. “Just wear the old ones you have on.” He added, “Besides, new shoes have a break-in period. I’m doing this for your own good. I’ll give them back to you once I’ve broken them in.” With that, Noah pulled me out. Downstairs, Clara embraced me, her face a shy flush. She mysteriously pulled open a corner of her backpack, whispering, “Jacob, today’s our third anniversary, and I’ve prepared a surprise for you~” I looked down, instantly blushing to my ears, as it was a black lace, sexy nightgown. In the years Clara and I had been together, she had always been rather aloof. The me of the previous life, immersed in the surprise of Clara’s change in attitude towards me, didn’t even notice that Noah, standing nearby, had already turned grim. It turned out that in the previous life, the reason he played that prank during the climb was entirely out of jealousy. He called it a joke, but in reality, it was deliberate. Clara saw me stunned and silent, and chided, “Jacob, why are you spacing out?” On this day in my previous life, I was truly happy, my mind filled with anticipation for the climbing to end quickly. Later, when we were almost at the top of the rock, Clara, probably tired, frowned and seemed unhappy. Noah, trying to cheer Clara up, actually secretly untied my safety rope. My foot slipped, and I fell. Because only a thin rope at the top was protecting me, I swung a few times in the air like a kite. I instantly broke into a cold sweat, but unexpectedly, Clara actually laughed heartily at my appearance. Immediately after, I heard the sound of the rope breaking, and I plummeted directly from mid-air. My waist, unfortunately, hit a protruding rock on the ground. The intense pain almost made me faint. Several classmates who were climbing with us rushed over to check my injuries. But Noah stood nearby, arms crossed, with a sneer. “I was just joking. I didn’t expect Jacob, a sports student, to have such poor physical fitness.” He added, “However, seeing Clara smile made it worth it.” He continued, “It’s common to get bumps and scrapes during school training. He should be fine, right?” The student organizing the climb’s face darkened, and he quickly called for an ambulance, taking me to the hospital. Seeing the doctor’s tightly furrowed brows, my heart instantly sank. The doctor said my spine was fractured, and it might be difficult for me to stand again in the future. Noah, upon learning this, was incredibly shocked. He feigned an apology, threatening to jump from the fifth floor to atone for my injury. Clara quickly pulled him back, gently comforting him and saying it was just an accident. But had she forgotten that I was the one who needed comfort after being injured? After the surgery, Clara’s mother also rushed over. Upon hearing about my injuries, her eyes immediately reddened. “Jacob, you’ve truly suffered.” She chastised, “Noah is truly something; he’s always loved pranks, with no sense of proportion. Quickly apologize to Jacob.” I endured the pain, saying coldly, “No need for an apology. Let the police handle this. Whether intentional or accidental, I hope the police can give me justice.” Unexpectedly, as soon as I finished speaking, Clara was displeased. “Jacob, Noah and I grew up together. I know his joke went a bit too far this time, but it’s not enough to send him to the police station, is it? When we get married later, we’ll be seeing each other often; how awkward would that be?” She continued, “I know you’re sad, but the doctor said that with diligent rehabilitation, there’s still a chance of recovery. You can take this opportunity to rest well. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” At this moment, Clara’s mother also interjected, “Noah’s uncle is a major client of our company. If you fall out with the King family over such a small matter, where would our family’s reputation stand afterward?” She pressed, “If you call the police, you’re slapping my face. I absolutely won’t allow such a thing to happen!” I tried to say something more, but Clara cut me off again. “Jacob, your spine is already broken anyway. Why bother ruining my family’s cooperation with the King family over this?” She continued, “Noah truly didn’t mean it. He’s like my younger brother, just a bit mischievous. I hope you can treat him like a younger brother too.” She added, “Besides, we’re all classmates, and Noah is younger than you. Can’t you forgive him this once?” After Clara spoke, I was so angry I couldn’t speak. I was only a month older than Noah; why should I bear the consequences of his prank? Yet in my previous life, I was so utterly foolish that I followed Clara’s advice. Later, when Clara accompanied me for rehabilitation, she became increasingly perfunctory. I also developed depression from sitting in a wheelchair for so long. It wasn’t until Valentine’s Day that Clara didn’t come home all night. In the early morning, I scrolled through Noah’s social media post. It was a photo of him and Clara kissing. Clara’s ring finger still bore a sparkling diamond ring. The caption: Finally upgraded from boyfriend to husband. Please guide me for the rest of our lives. After seeing it, I maneuvered my wheelchair and leaped from the rooftop. This life, no matter what, I would not let such a tragedy befall me again.

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1 Amy had lost her memory, every trace of me erased. Her mind was stuck in the year she loved her ex-husband most. No matter how much everyone around her pleaded, she remained convinced that I was the one who had come between them. The doctors offered a glimmer of hope for her memory, and I clung to it, refusing to let go. Three years. We divorced, then remarried. It became a well-known joke throughout the whole of New York society, people even placing bets. They wagered on when I’d finally give up, and when Amy would finally remember. Until the news of our eighth divorce hit the tabloids again. Reporters, cameras poised, stormed into my law firm. They shoved microphones in my face, their voices laced with provocation. “Mr. Covington, as a divorce attorney, you’ve been divorced eight times yourself. Any thoughts on that?” My firm’s nameplate had been vandalized, and the commendation plaques I’d earned were trampled underfoot. Before I could even respond, my boss fired me, citing damage to the firm’s reputation. “Larry, take some advice. Have some self-respect. Stop hounding Ms. Amy Vance.” My hand trembled as I clenched it, and a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me. They were right. This time, I really should give up. … It was pouring rain when I left the firm. Clutching a box from my desk, I walked home in a daze. The front door hadn’t been fully shut, and I could hear Amy and Julian’s laughter drifting out occasionally. I glanced around. The living room was a mess, clothes scattered everywhere, the rug stained… The TV news still played the day’s firm drama on a loop. Amy’s smile faded a little when she saw me. “Still have the nerve to come back?” Her sarcastic words cut through the air, clear and sharp. Julian chuckled, kissing the corner of Amy’s lips. “Alright, you two were together for seven years. Let’s keep some decorum.” He then looked up, raising an eyebrow at me, his smile suggestive. “It’s Amy’s ovulation day today. She really wanted me. You don’t mind, do you?” Rainwater dripped from my hair, landing on the floor, one drop at a time. A surge of weariness washed over me. I didn’t look at the two undressed figures on the couch, turning instead towards the bedroom. But when I pushed the door open, I froze. “Oh, right, I forgot to tell you.” Amy’s voice was casual. “This house is also registered under my mother’s name. It has nothing to do with you. I threw all your stuff out.” She paused, then added, “Probably still in the trash can by the street.” Amy’s lips curved upwards, a jacket loosely draped over her. She leaned against the wall, watching me. It was as if seeing me in such a state brought her immense joy. A sharp pain shot through my chest. My soaked shirt made me shiver with cold. “You bought today’s trending topic too, didn’t you?” I demanded, my voice raw. “We’re already divorced. Why did you have to make me lose my job?” In response to my question, Amy simply raised her hand and swiped, knocking the box out of my hands. Documents and papers scattered across the floor. They were the fruits of nearly seven years of my work. “Three years of pestering me isn’t enough? Even if I really did have something with you before, I have amnesia now.” Her voice was cold, dismissive. “I’ve forgotten you, which means you mean absolutely nothing to me!” Those words, undoubtedly, ripped open old wounds. Three years ago, her sudden amnesia had erased everything about me. Just the day before she lost her memory, she’d told me she was pregnant. She’d dragged me excitedly to decorate the nursery, dreaming of whether it would be a boy or a girl. But then she forgot. She only remembered Julian. She’d terminated our child, and even undergone a hymen repair for Julian. “You just forgot! You have no idea what Julian did back then…” Anguish and fury threatened to consume me. Amy’s face turned ashen. She grabbed my arm fiercely and shoved me out the door. The heavy rain instantly drenched me again. “I don’t care what Julian did,” she declared, her voice ringing with finality. “I only remember that I love him, and that’s all that matters.” I opened my mouth, but all my questions and grievances suddenly felt meaningless. Amy irritably avoided my gaze, then reached up and tugged off her wedding ring. The edge of the diamond scratched her finger. She threw the ring at my feet, slamming the door shut as she yelled, “Don’t be so pathetic, begging me to remarry you!” I stood there for a long time, then finally crouched down and picked up the wedding ring. Amy had designed it herself before we got married. She’d worn it for seven years, never taking it off. By the roadside trash can, I saw our shattered wedding photos, the scarf she had knitted for me with her own hands, and all the photo albums filled with our memories. My phone suddenly rang. I looked at the caller ID and answered. Amy’s mother’s excited voice came through. “Larry, I just got Amy’s medical report! The doctor said her memory is starting to loosen up. If she continues treatment, there’s an eighty percent chance she’ll recover!” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. The “good” I wanted to say died in my throat. Finally, I whispered, “Mom, no more treatment. Let her forget. It’s better that way.” The next day, I went to the Vance family estate. I laid the eight divorce certificates before Amy’s mother. “Mom, Amy and I are divorced again.” Amy’s mother looked at me with pity, then sighed deeply. “Amy has truly wronged you. You two were so happy back then.” She pushed a business card towards me, her eyes filled with hope. “But this time it’s really different. I’ve contacted several doctors, and they all say the chances of recovery are high.” She pleaded, “I’m getting old, Mom just wants you two to have a good life together. She’s also been remembering a lot of things from before…” Her persuasion was cut short by my interruption. “But she’s never remembered anything about me.” I lowered my head, avoiding her pitying gaze. The atmosphere grew silent until she spoke again. “If you leave, and Amy remembers you but can’t find you, she’ll go mad.” For three years, every time we divorced, Amy’s mother would say those exact words. And every time, because of those words, I would soften, remarrying again and again. Before I could reply, there was a commotion at the entrance. Amy strode in, high heels clacking, carrying several shopping bags. Her brows immediately furrowed when she saw me. “Larry, are you here to complain to my mother again?” she sneered. “I already kicked you out. Why are you still haunting me? Can’t you really live without me?” Amy’s mother’s chest heaved with anger. She abruptly stood up, raised her hand, and slapped Amy hard across the face. “Have you caused enough trouble? How much more do you intend to push Larry? If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be alive right now!” I sat on the sofa, my hands clenched into fists. My mind drifted back seven years. Her marriage to Julian had been a nightmare. Julian had reveled in all her love, but secretly, he had other women. His infidelity had turned her into a laughingstock among the socialites overnight. When she’d gone to confront him, Julian had sold her private photos at an auction, absconded with ten million dollars, and vanished. After that, Amy fell into a deep depression. I was the one who saved her when she tried to jump into the river. “So what? All he wanted was money.” Amy stubbornly looked at her mother. “I don’t care what Julian did back then. I just love him, and I can’t love anyone else.” She added with defiant conviction, “And I won’t regret it.” Amy’s mother instantly looked as if all the strength had been drained from her. She turned back to me, her eyes filled with apology. Amy rubbed her temples, then finally looked up, as if in reluctant compromise. “Okay, Arthur. If you want to remarry, fine. We’ll just divorce again later, and you’ll be the one who looks foolish, not me.” Her voice dripped with disdain. “If you can’t live without me, let’s go to the registry office now.” She added, a cruel smile playing on her lips, “This would be your eighth divorce, wouldn’t it?” I forced a faint smile. I couldn’t reconcile the woman before me with the Amy I remembered. “I came here to clarify things with Mom, that’s all.” I looked directly at Amy. “You’re free, Amy.” Amy froze, her hand, hanging at her side, trembled imperceptibly. She stared at me, astonished, then quickly regained her composure. “Playing hard to get, huh? Too bad it won’t work on me.” She scoffed, “Fine. You said it. Just don’t come crawling back to me again.” Amy bit out the words, almost snarling. Ignoring her mother’s protests, she threw her bags to the floor and stormed out. Amy’s mother’s eyes went dark with fury. She yelled after Amy’s retreating figure, “You’ll regret this, I promise you!”

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The outdoor temperature hit 95°F, and our dorm room felt like a sauna. “It’s too hot,” I suggested, “let’s turn on the AC.” Claire, lounging on her bed in just her underwear, panting, shrugged indifferently. “I’m not hot.” Mia, wiping buckets of sweat with a pile of tissues that filled a small trash bin, pulled her jacket tighter. “I’m a little cold, actually.” Adrian, chugging iced lemonade, looked up. “If you want it on, go ahead.” I set the thermostat to 79°F and sighed in relief as the cool air started to circulate. A month later, Claire sent me a bill. “The electricity bill is $200 this month. You should pay it.” … Returning to the dorm, it felt like stepping into a walk-in freezer. I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms and silently turned the temperature back up to 79°F. Soon after, Adrian clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Who told you to turn up the heat? It was perfect just now.” I frowned. “But 61°F is too low. You were all bundled under blankets. It’s better to turn it up a bit.” Mia peeked out from under her duvet, her voice timid. “We were just worried you’d be hot…” She even faked a sneeze. Adrian glared at me angrily. “Why are you being mean to Mia? If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t even have turned on the AC!” Claire directly forwarded the electricity bill. “The power bill was a thousand dollars this month. You pay it.” My eyes widened in shock. “How is it that much?” Adrian pouted. “Of course it’s a lot when you have the AC on all day. If you don’t have the money, why turn on the AC?” Mia chimed in, “Exactly. Running the AC all day costs a fortune. I wouldn’t even dare turn it on at home.” Claire shrugged, looking at me like I was an idiot. “You were the one who suggested turning on the AC first, so naturally, you should cover this extra expense.” I gritted my teeth, a knot of frustration tightening in my chest. “But it’s so hot. When I turned on the AC, you all got cool too, didn’t you?” Mia scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You have the nerve to say that! You’re the one who insisted on it! We were cold even without the AC!” Adrian put her hands on her hips. “We’re freezing under our blankets every day, but you’re comfortable with the AC on and act like a saint? And then you expect us to pay the bill? What kind of logic is that?” She then added, “Vanessa, don’t be so unreasonable!” I laughed, but it was a humorless sound. It was true that I was the one who suggested the AC first, but for the past month, every time I returned to the dorm, a blast of icy air greeted me the moment I opened the door. The three of them would be huddled in thick blankets, and the AC display clearly read “61°F.” It was obvious who was really enjoying the comfort. “You’re not trying to bail on the payment, are you? You should have said you were broke. If we knew you didn’t have money, we wouldn’t have turned on the AC for you.” Claire sized me up, her eyes full of disdain. “Poor thing!” Mia pursed her lips. “She definitely has money. I saw her buy a new handbag a few days ago.” She reached over, grabbed my bag, and started rummaging through it. I tried to stop her, but Adrian blocked me with a firm hand. The contents of my bag spilled onto the floor with a clatter, some bottles and jars shattering instantly. Although this small amount of money was nothing to me, I still frowned deeply. Mia pulled out a few high-end lipsticks. “These look pretty good, but too bad you’ve used them. Otherwise, they’d be worth a few bucks.” She handed one to Claire and one to Adrian, then tucked my designer bag into her arms. “Looks like you don’t have much money anyway. This bag is probably a fake. I’ll buy it from you for fifty bucks. Transfer the remaining nine hundred and fifty to Claire’s Venmo.” “You’re forcing me to sell my things!” I seethed, my teeth clenched. I tried to snatch my belongings back, but Adrian immediately twisted my arms behind my back. “If you hadn’t insisted on the AC, we wouldn’t have had to pay so much extra for electricity! If you don’t pay this, who will?” Adrian couldn’t resist shoving me. My lower abdomen hit the corner of the desk, and a sharp pain shot through me. Claire ignored everything, pressed my head down, and unlocked my phone, transferring money to herself. “Password?” I just glared at her. “What you’re doing is illegal!” Adrian slapped me hard on the head. I instantly felt dizzy. “Don’t talk back! What’s the password?” “I know the password! I saw her type it in!” Mia’s eyes lit up. She snatched the phone, and after a few tries, successfully transferred the money. Once they had the cash, they finally released me. My arms were bruised and marked from being held, but I couldn’t focus on that. Because at that moment, Adrian suddenly spoke up, “Since she doesn’t have money, why should we let her enjoy the AC we’re paying for?” Mia’s face lit up with understanding. “Right! She’s freeloading off the AC now!” With final exams approaching, I was afraid they’d pull another stunt, so I quickly said, “I’ll definitely pay my share of the electricity bill normally from now on.” Claire scoffed coldly. “That’s debatable. Who knows if you’ll go back on your word then?” “Or just make her pay a deposit,” Mia mused, propping her chin on her hand. In a moment, she came up with a “brilliant” idea. “Make her transfer the electricity bill to us in advance, then we won’t have to worry about her freeloading.” Mia quickly counted on her fingers. “There are twelve months in a year. Last month’s AC bill was nine hundred. That’s ten thousand eight hundred a year. Let’s round it down. Give us ten thousand, and you’re good.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Ten thousand dollars for electricity a year? Are you kidding me?” Claire gave me a cold stare. Adrian immediately understood her meaning and cornered me against the wall. “If you don’t pay, you won’t live in this dorm. Ten thousand is already a discount.” “You’ve got some nerve. There are plenty of other dorms; I’m sure I can find an empty bed.” I snorted dismissively, internally noting how they truly were like snakes from the same pit. I made up my mind: I would apply to switch dorms in a little while. I didn’t want to stay in this dorm for another second! To my surprise, Mia and the others wouldn’t have it. Adrian stepped forward and immediately pinned my arms behind my back. Claire mockingly patted my face. “You think you can just leave whenever you want? If you leave, there will only be three of us. We’ll be short one person to split the electricity bill with. Who are we supposed to charge?” “So what do you want?” I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, only wanting to deal with this quickly and get out of this troublesome place. “How about this, considering you’ve been with us for two months, we won’t ask for too much,” Claire said, holding up five fingers. “Give us fifty thousand as your share for future electricity bills, and then you can scram.” Before I could express my astonishment, Mia whispered, “We probably can’t take the money. She’s not trustworthy. If she switches dorms, she’ll definitely find a way to report us. Then we’ll all be charged with extortion, and none of us will escape.” Adrian panicked, her grip loosening slightly. “Then what do we do?” “I can give you fifty thousand! Just let me go, and I won’t report you.” I immediately struggled. Claire, seeing this, slapped me across the face. It stung fiercely. Mia looked at me with immediate suspicion. “She agreed so quickly. There’s definitely something fishy going on.” Adrian composed herself and viciously kicked the back of my knee. There was a sickening snap, and a searing, unbearable pain shot through my leg. Claire’s face was expressionless. “Then we definitely can’t let her leave.” She grabbed my hair and dragged me towards the balcony. “And we can’t let her freeload off the AC either. Let her stay out on the balcony.” I had checked the weather that morning; the high for today was 107°F. It wasn’t even noon yet, and the balcony was already scorching. Staying on the balcony, I wouldn’t die, but I’d be severely hurt! A wave of dread washed over me. I was about to scream, but Adrian shoved a rag into my mouth. To prevent my escape, they hog-tied me with rope, one end secured to the window handle. Even if I could move to the door, I couldn’t open it with my hands tied behind my back. Claire closed the door and drew the curtains, instantly turning the balcony into a sealed oven. I slumped to the ground, my face and body burning. Through the door, I could faintly hear their laughter and the sounds of their TV show. As noon approached, the temperature on the balcony rose higher and higher. I found it increasingly difficult to breathe. My lips were severely chapped, bleeding slightly. I slowly crawled to the door, bumping my head against the glass. I kept hitting my forehead until blood started to trickle down before Claire finally pulled back the curtain, glaring at me threateningly. “You’d better behave! The school dean is coming to inspect soon. If they find you, you’re going to regret it!”

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1 For a limited-time in-game event, my fiancé and his childhood rival, Isabelle, decided to pretend to be a couple. They agreed to “break up” after a week, but Isabelle kept pushing the boundaries. “Come on, Nathan, don’t tell me you’re getting soft. How about a real bet?” she taunted. “A lifetime pact. The first one to back out is a coward!” Just when everyone, including me, thought Nathan would quit the game for my sake, he gritted his teeth and refused to back down. He even raised the stakes, escalating their fake relationship from a couple to a married couple. For the next five years, Nathan spent every Christmas with Isabelle and her family. This year was no different. I looked at the latest text from my father. [Can you bring Nathan home this year? I’m afraid I might not be around to see next Christmas.] I clutched my phone, looking up just as Nathan walked in, arms full of holiday gifts. He held up a few different shirts against himself. “What kind of shirt do you think Mr. Hayes would like?” When I didn’t answer, he mumbled to himself, “Forget it. Asking you is useless. I’ll just ask Isabelle.” Watching his back as he happily sorted through the items, I opened a chat window I hadn’t touched in a long time. I typed and deleted the words several times before finally hitting send. [Do you still mean what you said? Come home with me for the holidays this year.] … The moment the message sent, a series of question marks popped up in response. [You’ve made up your mind? I’ll be there. Wait for me!] The screen went dark. I managed a weak smile and called my dad. “Dad, I’m bringing my boyfriend home for Christmas this year.” My voice was quiet, but Nathan, trying on clothes, overheard. He snatched the phone from my hand, hung up, and snapped, “We already agreed I’m spending the holidays at Isabelle’s. What are you telling your dad now?” I calmly took my phone back, my face impassive. “Nothing.” He seemed to sense my mood, his complaining tone softening as his gaze settled on me. “I know what you’re thinking, but spending Christmas at Isabelle’s was part of the deal from the beginning.” He puffed out his chest, a look of pride in his eyes I’d never seen before. “If I win, Isabelle has to sign over her entire company to me.” I stared at him for a long moment, then spoke. “Nathan, you don’t need the money, do you?” He stiffened, his brow furrowing. “What’s gotten into you today? You’re usually not this talkative.” Before I could reply, his phone, sitting on the table, rang. I glanced at the screen and saw the caller ID: [My Dearest Wife]. Nathan quickly silenced the call, a flicker of discomfort on his face. “Isabelle was just messing with my phone.” My fingers curled into my palm. A bitter taste filled my throat. The silence in the room was heavy. Nathan ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then pointed to the bags on the floor. “These are for your dad, so you can’t say I don’t care,” he said. “I’m going to marry you eventually. The holidays are just a formality. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.” With that, he disappeared into the bedroom to return the call. I looked at the “gifts.” Stale crackers, raw peanuts still covered in dirt. All cheap, thoughtless items you could buy for a few dollars at a corner store. My dad’s health had been failing for years; he couldn’t eat any of this. A sourness welled up in my eyes. I remembered the first time I brought Nathan home years ago. My father was so happy. The frail old man seemed to come alive that day. He even gave Nathan the family heirloom, a vintage watch passed down through generations. All my father wanted was for us to visit him in his small mountain town every year, to see us get married before he passed. But even that simple wish was too much to ask. I took a deep breath and faced the bedroom door. “Nathan, let’s break up…” My words were cut off by the sound of a key in the lock. The front door swung open, and Isabelle walked in as if she owned the place. She had a key to my home. She saw me and her brow tightened slightly. “Serena? I’m here to pick up Nathan to go gift shopping.” My face hardened. I stared at the key in her hand. “Why do you have a key to my apartment?” Nathan came out of the bedroom at the sound of her voice. “I had one made for her,” he said casually. “Sometimes you’re working late and not home, so Isabelle stays over in the guest room.” The anger inside me burned hotter. “This is my home, Nathan!” I hissed. “Did you even bother to ask me?” He didn’t explain. He just picked up his keys from the sofa, grabbed a box of expensive, rare ginseng from the cabinet, and handed it to Isabelle right in front of me. I shot out a hand to stop him, my teeth clenched. “That’s from my company. It’s for my dad, for his health.” Nathan impatiently shook my hand off. “Your dad’s health is already bad; this won’t save him. It’s better to give it to Isabelle’s father.” He added dismissively, “I’ll get you something better next time.” Isabelle accepted the ginseng with a sweet smile, turning to me. “Don’t be so dramatic, Serena. Once Nathan concedes the game, I’ll be sure to reimburse you for all your expenses over the years.” Nathan chuckled at that, playfully flicking a strand of Isabelle’s hair. “Who’s going to concede? I’m in this for life.” They slammed the door behind them, and the gust of wind that swept through the apartment chilled me to the bone. 2 Nathan and I had been together for nearly a decade. But in everyone else’s eyes, Isabelle was the one who truly deserved him. Five years ago, on Nathan’s birthday, I had a custom-made ring in my pocket, ready to propose. Isabelle was there, of course. The moment they saw each other, the bickering began, starting with truth or dare and escalating to drinking games. Nathan had eyes for no one but her. Then, Isabelle slammed her hand on the table, pulled out her phone, and opened an official event page for an online game. Couples who entered together could win limited-edition character skins. “Nathan, you in? Don’t tell me you’re scared!” The crowd roared, caught up in the excitement. My friend nudged me with her elbow. “Serena, you’re not going to say anything? You’re just going to let this happen?” Someone overheard and laughed. “Come on, Nathan would never agree. He and Serena have been together forever. They’re practically engaged.” Everyone thought so. So did I. But in the next second, Nathan slid his own phone across the table to face Isabelle. “Game on.” The smile on my face froze. I grabbed his arm. “Nathan, what do you think you’re doing?” He finally seemed to notice I was there. He opened his mouth to speak, a flash of regret in his eyes, but Isabelle just laughed and threw her hands up. “Relax, Serena. It’s just a game. The pairing automatically dissolves in a week,” she said smoothly. “You two are getting married, right? Don’t you trust him even a little?” Her words seemed to fuel Nathan’s impatience. He pushed me away. “It’s my birthday. Don’t ruin the mood.” His words plunged me into an icy abyss. The people around us exchanged awkward glances, the atmosphere turning frigid. I fought to keep my voice from trembling. “What game? Tell me. We’re the real couple. I can…” Nathan waved his hand dismissively. “You can’t. You don’t even know how to play. All you ever do is bury yourself in your boring design drafts.” My hand in my pocket clenched tighter, the engagement ring digging a sharp pain into my palm. “You’re really going to do this? You have a girlfriend, but you’re going to be a ‘couple’ with someone else?” At that, his face turned ugly. “What’s that supposed to mean, Serena!” he yelled, and then he smashed the cake I’d carefully prepared right in my face. “You just wanted to ruin my birthday, didn’t you? Fine, then we won’t celebrate!” That night ended in disaster. I drank until morning, but I couldn’t bring myself to break up with him. I couldn’t just throw away years of history. Even my dad told me to let it go, saying all couples have their little fights. But it wasn’t little. From a fake couple, they became a fake married couple. And every year, Nathan used that game as an excuse to spend Christmas with Isabelle. This year marked the fifth year of their game. Five years of them chipping away at every last bit of my love for him. I never gave him the ring. My phone screen lit up. It was another text from my dad. [Sweetheart, you and Nathan have been together for a decade now, haven’t you?] [Will Dad get to see you two get married?] Tears blurred my vision, dripping onto the screen. [Dad, I will get married. Just not to him.]

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1 The day my company went public, my best friend drugged me. When I opened my eyes again, I was tied up in a car. My so-called friend was toying with the signet ring he’d pulled from my finger, a vicious grin spreading across his face. “Rest easy, my friend,” he sneered. “I’ll be sure to take good care of your wife and the company for you.” Before I could even process the rage, the car, with me in it, plunged into the ocean. My best friend, Owen, thought I was dead. Three days later, at my memorial service, he and the shareholders he’d bribed prepared to take over my company. “Gentlemen,” Owen announced to the room, “the company has just gone public. It cannot be without a leader. Therefore, I propose to manage the company on my brother’s behalf, temporarily.” His words were a signal. The bought-off shareholders immediately voiced their support, pressuring those who remained hesitant. Just as the decision was about to be sealed, the man they thought was dead rolled into the memorial service, pushed in a wheelchair by my assistant. “I’m not dead yet,” I said, my voice cutting through the stunned silence. “So when did it become your turn, a murderer, to inherit my company?” … The triumphant smile on Owen’s face froze, his eyes wide with disbelief and shock. My arrival sent a wave of panic through the mourners. “Mr… Mr. Blackwood?” “A ghost! Is he a man or a ghost!” “But they said he was dead! The car went into the ocean, no body was ever found!” They scrambled back, giving me a wide berth. I wheeled myself to the side of the empty coffin and let out a cold laugh. “They couldn’t even find a body, and you dared to hold my memorial?” I fixed my gaze on Owen. “You must be very disappointed right now, Owen. Because you failed to kill me. And now, you’re in trouble. Now, it’s my turn to kill you.” My words shocked everyone back to reality. “Everyone, calm down! If Mr. Blackwood is speaking, it means he was lucky enough to survive.” “Wait, did you hear what he said first? He said, ‘When did it become your turn, a murderer, to inherit my company?’” The attendees exchanged nervous glances, their eyes all turning to the panicked figure of Owen standing by the altar. Whispers erupted as they began to piece together the truth. I expected Owen to be terrified, to beg for my mercy. He did neither. His composure returned with chilling speed, and a sarcastic smile touched his lips. “Brother, what are you talking about?” he said, his voice dripping with false innocence. “I didn’t murder you. If you’re going to insist on slandering me, you’d better have proof.” He added with a taunting lilt, “Spreading rumors is illegal, you know.” He walked down from the altar, and as he passed the coffin, he lifted his foot and kicked it over with a violent thud. “This damn thing is bad luck,” he scoffed. “Useless, empty box.” CRACK! The coffin splintered on the floor. Owen’s eyes met mine, a defiant, mocking glint in them. He was kicking the coffin, but he meant to kick me. “Brother, you may have come back alive, but the board has already decided to let me manage the company,” he declared. “And I swear, I didn’t use any dirty tricks to force the shareholders. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?” He smiled at the crowd of shareholders. Those he’d paid off quickly stepped forward. “That’s correct. It was the unanimous decision of the shareholders to have Mr. Stone manage the company.” “Even if you’re alive, you have to accept reality. The company is public now. You can’t just call all the shots by yourself.” Owen clapped his hands together, delighted. “Did you hear that, brother?” he said. “It’s not that I want the seat. It’s that they asked me to take it.” He leaned in closer. “I know you’re not happy about it, but you’ll have to swallow it. Because while I’m in charge, if anyone causes trouble for me, I won’t let them off easy.” The threat was clearly aimed at me. But he was forgetting something. I had started from nothing. I had seen and survived storms he couldn’t even imagine. I wasn’t about to capsize because of a pathetic snake like him. 2 Before I could speak, Owen’s assistant, drunk on his borrowed power, rushed forward and kicked my wheelchair. “Cole, it’s over for you! There’s no place for you in this company anymore.” He spat as he spoke, spittle landing in my hair. “And now you’re a cripple. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go home and rot.” I have a thing about cleanliness. I despise being made dirty. I looked up, my eyes narrowing. “Say that again.” Owen’s assistant didn’t sense the danger. He opened his mouth and repeated the insult. I pulled a small knife from my pocket and plunged it deep into his thigh. “Heh. A little closer, and you would’ve lost that ‘thing’ of yours.” The blade went in clean and came out red. Blood splattered onto my hand. I calmly took out a handkerchief and wiped it clean. “AAAAAHHHH!!” The assistant crumpled to the floor, clutching his leg and writhing in agony. The scene stunned the crowd into silence, a stark reminder of my more… ruthless methods. I ran a legitimate business, but I also commanded forces that few people knew existed. A mutt like this, daring to bark at me, was digging his own grave. “I did warn you,” I said softly. Owen’s face darkened, his eyes glaring at me like a wolf. A shareholder, eager to curry favor with him, stood up and pointed a finger at me. “Cole, don’t take it too far!” he shouted. “He was just telling you to leave, you didn’t have to hurt him!” I looked at the shareholder with a knowing, humorless smile. His name was Arthur. I had saved his life. I remembered years ago when he’d gambled away everything and was about to jump off a building. I pulled him back from the ledge, paid off his debts, and gave him a stake in my then-fledgling company. He had knelt at my feet, weeping, promising a lifetime of gratitude. Now, here he was, siding with Owen, ready to stab me in the back. The betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow. “You said he was just telling me to leave?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “This empire was built with my blood and sweat. You thieves waltz in, try to steal it, and then order me out. Tell me, who exactly is taking it too far? Go on. I’m listening.” “Since you’re asking, I’ll tell you,” a new voice cut in. “Because the company needs a healthy man to lead it, not a cripple like you. Understand?” My wife, Evelyn, strode into the room, high heels clicking, swaying her hips. I turned to her in disbelief, my hands clenching into fists. Her eyes were fixed on Owen, and Owen’s eyes were devouring her figure. In that instant, I understood. The two of them had conspired against me, a vile, treacherous pact. “Evelyn,” I ground out. “Do you know what you’re saying? Do you remember whose wife you are?” She met my fury with a cold, indifferent shrug. “Of course, I know what I’m saying.” She paused, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. “As for being your wife… not anymore.” “What do you mean?” I demanded, a terrible premonition creeping into my heart. That night… they had gotten me drunk, and they’d made me sign two contracts. Was this…? My head snapped up to meet Evelyn’s cunning gaze and Owen’s triumphant sneer. The fire of being played for a fool was unquenchable. “Heh,” Evelyn purred. “It seems you’re finally starting to figure it out.” 3 Consumed by rage, I wheeled myself over to Evelyn, grabbing her arm. “Those contracts you two made me sign that night,” I snarled, “what were they?” She shot me a look of pure contempt and violently ripped her arm from my grasp. “Don’t touch me, you pathetic cripple.” Then, she slapped me. Hard. That slap obliterated any lingering affection I had for her. The remaining guests began to murmur amongst themselves. To quell the gossip, Evelyn addressed the room from the front. “Ladies and gentlemen, my sincerest apologies,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “It seems there has been a terrible misunderstanding. Cole is, as you can see, very much alive. I apologize for the confusion. Please, accept my apologies and feel free to leave. What remains is a private family matter, and we will handle it ourselves.” Once the guests had departed, Evelyn’s gentle smile vanished, replaced by a mask of cold cruelty. “Cole, you’re such a smart man,” she cooed. “Why don’t you use that brilliant mind of yours to guess what those contracts were?” As she finished speaking, Owen wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss. I watched, my eyes burning red, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles were white, as my wife and my best friend devoured each other. A chill spread from my heart, and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Ev-e-lyn,” I bit out each syllable. “Give me one reason for this betrayal.” Owen effortlessly lifted her into his arms and sat down across from me. “Why are you so worked up, brother? With your legs broken, a useless man like you should be lying in bed, counting your final days.” He smirked. “Didn’t I tell you? I’d take care of the company and your wife for you. I just took care of her… all the way into my bed.” Evelyn, nestled in his embrace, added her own venom. “Cole, I never loved you. I married you because you were rich and powerful.” Her eyes raked over me with disgust. “Now you’ve lost everything. You’re useless. What’s the difference between you and a cripple?” Believing they had full control, they dropped all pretenses. Staring at their repulsive faces, my mind went blank. One was my best friend, the other, the woman I loved. I had treated them both with nothing but generosity after my success. Especially Owen. He was my childhood friend. His family was dirt poor; he almost couldn’t afford college. I begged my father to sponsor his education. And now, he had forgotten everything, using my kindness to destroy me. The few shareholders who hadn’t taken a side could no longer stand it. They stood up, their voices filled with righteous indignation, pointing at the pair. “You two are disgusting! Now I see it all.” “You conspired to kill Cole so you could take over his company, didn’t you?” “Shameless. Vicious. We will not accept Owen as the head of this company.” “That’s right!” For a brief moment, I felt a flicker of warmth. In times of crisis, you see who your true friends are. Owen set Evelyn down and stood up, strolling around nonchalantly. “So what if you guessed right? This world is survival of the fittest. If you’re not ruthless enough on your way to the top, you won’t last.” He sneered at the shareholder who had spoken. “You old fossil, your support means nothing. It won’t change the fact that I’m taking over.” With that, Owen punched the man, sending him staggering back. “Old man, if you ever dare point your finger at me again, I’ll break it on the spot.” He glared at the others. “Don’t think that cripple Cole can save you. You’d all be wise to pick the right side if you don’t want to end up in a ditch.”

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I was blinded saving Victoria’s life. She swore she would be my eyes forever, that she’d never leave my side. I threw myself into treatment, and on the day my vision was finally restored, I raced home, my heart pounding with joy, ready to share the incredible news. Instead, I found Victoria in my bed with her male secretary, tangled in a passionate embrace, their bodies moving in rhythm. In the throes of passion, Victoria moaned her secretary’s name. “Tori,” he whispered, “why don’t you just divorce the blind man? I’m the one who truly understands you, the one who loves you.” “Just a little longer,” she panted. “I need more time.” That night, a blizzard raged outside. I walked out of my own home in a thin shirt, my heart a frozen wasteland. I booked a flight. I was going back to the Enclave, a place where Victoria would never find me. 1 After booking the flight, I thought the two of them might have finished their sordid affair. When I steeled myself and walked back into the house, I found they had moved from the bedroom to the living room. They were still locked in a feverish kiss, the air thick with the scent of sex. Victoria’s lust-filled eyes met mine, and she bit her lower lip, stifling a moan. But Asher, her secretary, was deliberately cruel. He thrust against her, hard. “Relax, Tori,” he murmured against her ear, his voice a low taunt. “David is blind. He can’t see us.” He shot me a look of pure contempt. Victoria pinched his side. “Don’t be wicked. We can’t let him hear anything.” “Oh, but I think this is so much more exciting,” he chuckled. “Damn, I think we’re out. We need a new one.” He whispered something in her ear, and she stilled her movements, her gaze falling on me, sitting on the opposite sofa. “Should I get it, or should we make him?” Asher asked, his eyes glinting with malice. After a moment’s hesitation, Victoria gave in to his game. “David,” she called out, her voice husky. “My throat’s a little sore. Could you grab that box of cold medicine from the coffee table for me?” My face was ashen. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes hazy with desire, her hands still clinging to Asher’s body. I forced myself to control the tremor in my hands, clenching them into fists. I glanced at the so-called “cold medicine” on the coffee table. It was a box of condoms. Victoria was asking me to bring them a condom. My world turned to grey. Playing the part of the blind man, I fumbled my way to the table and picked up the box. “How did you catch a cold? Is it serious?” I asked, my voice shaking with a betrayal she couldn’t hear. “No, it’s nothing. I’ll just take the medicine and get some sleep.” Asher’s hands roamed her body, and she shot him a playful glare, silently telling him to stop. She took the box from my hand. “You should get some rest too. I’ll sleep in the guest room. I don’t want to infect you.” Then, Asher swept her into his arms, and they disappeared into the guest room. After they were gone, a bitter sting filled my nose, and my eyes burned. Even though I had already decided to leave her, the pain was a physical blow. Victoria had sworn she would never lie to me, never betray me. She had broken her vow. I picked up my phone and called my mentor, the Elder of my people. “Elder, it’s David. I am ready to come home and take my place as your successor.” “Are you certain? Once you return, you can never leave again. You know the valley is sealed, hidden from the outside world. Can you truly bear to leave Victoria?” “I can,” I answered without hesitation. The Elder was silent for a long moment. “Very well. Come back in seven days.” I had once hesitated to return, unable to leave her. Now, she had made the choice for me. I glanced at the closed door of the guest room, from which the sounds of their panting had already begun to emerge. “I have neglected my skills for too long,” I told the Elder. “I have a gift for medicine, yet I let it gather dust. Now, I am ready to take up the burden, to ease your worries.” “Good. You are a true son of the valley. You do not disappoint me. In eight days, we will all be waiting at the entrance to welcome you home.” “I will be there on time.” After we finished speaking, just as I hung up, the door opened. Victoria walked in, wearing nothing but Asher’s white dress shirt. Her neck and thighs were covered in love bites. She didn’t bother to hide them. After all, I was blind. 2 A wave of nausea, more intense than anything I had ever felt, washed over me. I retched. Seeing my reaction, Victoria rushed towards me, her face etched with concern. As she drew near, the cloying scent of Asher’s signature cologne enveloped me—a custom blend the perfume company had made just for him, a gift from her. The revulsion was overwhelming. I shoved her away, stumbling blindly towards the bathroom, my body itself rejecting her presence. I knelt before the toilet, dry heaving. When the spasms subsided, my eyes fell on the trash can. A pregnancy test. Two red lines. I stared at it for a long time, the two lines mocking my failure, my impotence. I couldn’t find the right emotion. I couldn’t cry. There was nothing left but an endless, hollow ache. Since I had lost my sight six months ago, Victoria and I hadn’t been intimate. There was no need to guess whose child it was. Victoria followed me, her voice laced with panic. She wrapped her arms around me from behind. “David, what’s wrong? Are you sick?” Her hands trembled against my waist. “You pushed me away just now… my heart just sank.” She held me tighter, as if I might vanish at any moment. One second, she was with another man. The next, she was whispering words of love to me. Victoria was a truly gifted actress. I pried her hands off me, creating distance between us. “It’s probably just my stomach. I’ve been having trouble keeping food down lately.” I didn’t know when I had learned to lie so easily. I had always despised dishonest people, and now I had become one of them. Hearing this, Victoria seemed to panic. The woman who was famously obsessed with cleanliness didn’t seem to care that I might be covered in filth. She clung to me again, her grip desperate. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so busy with work, I haven’t had time for you. You’ve been eating alone, not taking care of yourself. It’s all my fault.” She cupped my face, her brow furrowed with what looked like genuine pain. She led me back to the bedroom and pulled out fresh clothes for me. I stopped her, dressing myself. Victoria froze, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. It was the first time since we married that I hadn’t needed her help. Her heart seemed to skip a beat. I lay down on the bed, and she gently pulled the covers over me. “David, are you angry with me? For not spending enough time with you?” she whispered. “Tomorrow is your birthday. I’ll take the whole day off. We’ll spend it all together, just us. How does that sound?” The fearsome queen of the business world, a woman who made titans of industry tremble, was speaking to me with such humility. Was I fortunate or cursed? I was too tired to decide. As I drifted off to sleep, she must have thought I was already gone, because her phone vibrated. She quickly silenced it, then called my name twice. When I didn’t stir, she answered. “You little vixen,” Asher’s voice purred through the phone. “You ripped my underwear. Now, get me a new pair. Immediately.” “I’ll be right there.” Victoria glanced at me one last time, her hand gently stroking my cheek, then she left. I gripped the bedsheets, and the tears I had been holding back finally broke free. Asher hadn’t left. She was keeping him here, in our home, taking advantage of my blindness. It’s alright, I told myself. Just seven more days. Then, we will be finished forever. 3 The next morning, Victoria was up early, cooking a lavish breakfast in the kitchen. She had prepared all my favorite pastries and side dishes. She even held a piece up to my lips. “Open up, darling. Let me feed you.” Asher, sitting across from me, pouted. Victoria, right in front of me, texted him under the table: I’ll make it up to you later. Don’t cause a scene in front of David. I’ll give you whatever you want. A smug look crossed Asher’s face. He shot me a disdainful glance, then stood up. As he passed Victoria, his fingers brushed provocatively under the hem of her skirt before he walked out. I didn’t take the food she offered. I picked up my chopsticks and pretended to blindly find something else on the table. She thought I was still sulking. After breakfast, she insisted on taking me out. She had chartered a yacht and invited dozens of our friends for what she called a grand birthday celebration for me. All the way there, she held my hand tightly, as if afraid I might fall, chattering on about our sweet memories. I remained silent, the irony and pain a bitter cocktail in my gut. I once believed we would grow old together, inseparable. It had all become a joke. Victoria craved excitement, craved the thrill of a younger man. She had forgotten the vows we made. The path from the dock to the yacht was strewn with vibrant, fresh rose petals. I’ve always hated roses. Victoria knew this. Asher, however, loved them. So the rose petals were for him. Another lie in a celebration that was never meant for me. “David, this is where we had our wedding. It was broadcast live across the globe, so the whole world would know how much I, Victoria Thorne, adored you.” Her voice trembled with emotion, and a single tear traced a path down her cheek. She lifted my hand and pressed my fingertips to the teardrop. How much love does it take to make a woman cry with such sincerity? If it weren’t for her betrayal, I might have been moved enough to cry with her. She had loved me once. But that time was gone. Her love was now divided. I pulled my hand away, my expression as calm as still water. Victoria, lost in her own memories, looked hurt by my lack of reaction. But her sorrow lasted only a few seconds. Her eyes lit up, a smile playing on her lips as she looked towards the deck. Asher was standing there, dressed in a bespoke suit Victoria had made for him. He looked refined, elegant. Compared to my simple attire, I was utterly eclipsed. “Mr. Hayes, happy birthday,” Asher said with a smug smile. He walked to Victoria’s side and, ignoring everyone else, took her hand in his. “Ms. Thorne, everything is ready. I’ll count down from three.” “One!” “Two!” “Three!” Suddenly, the night sky erupted in a cascade of fireworks, painting the darkness with brilliant colors. The three of us stood there, Victoria and Asher’s hands tightly clasped. They looked like the married couple. I watched the explosions, and a sharp pain pierced my eyes. As the fireworks bloomed, they spelled out a name in glittering light: ASHER. Not David. The party, the fireworks—it was all for him. Suddenly, Victoria excused herself, asking a maid to look after me. “David, be a good boy and wait for me. I’ll be right back.” She placed a soft kiss on my forehead and then, taking Asher’s hand, eagerly hurried away.

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I went to my brother’s hospital for an allergic reaction and ran right into the intern nurse who was crushing on him. Hard. After she overheard what she thought was an “intimate” conversation between me and my brother, her face soured with jealousy and panic. Just then, my brother, Alex, walked in and habitually placed his hand on my forehead to check my temperature. That was the last straw for her. She looked at me like I was the enemy, her eyes filled with suspicion. I was torn between laughing and crying, about to explain the situation, when she suddenly shrieked and slapped my brother’s hand away. “Dr. Monroe, break up with her! Don’t let this filthy woman deceive you! This isn’t an allergic reaction!” “She’s got… a rash on her backside!” “It’s a textbook sign of secondary syphilis! She’s got a filthy disease!” 1 The entire ER went dead silent. In an instant, every eye in the room snapped to me—to my exposed back and my half-lowered pants. A roar filled my ears as all the blood rushed to my head. “What the hell are you talking about?!” I was the first to snap out of it, my body trembling with rage. I whipped my head toward the intern, Brooke, my eyes turning red. “What’s your name? Your ID number? Do you have any idea that’s slander?!” My fury made Brooke flinch, and tears instantly welled up in her eyes. But she refused to back down, her tear-filled gaze shifting to Alex, who stood there in stunned silence. Her expression was a bizarre mix of righteous indignation, heartbreak, and a kind of… “savior” complex I couldn’t comprehend. “Dr. Monroe! I’m not lying! I’ve studied medicine for five years, I know what I’m seeing!” she sobbed, a picture of tragic beauty. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “I just don’t want you to be fooled by a woman like her! Her personal life is a mess, she doesn’t deserve you! Look at her, she’s still trying to deny it!” The look on Alex’s face screamed, Who am I? Where am I? I yanked up my pants, ignoring the searing pain as the fabric scraped against my raw skin. I stood up and locked my eyes on Brooke. “Say it again,” I hissed, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “What disease do you think I have?” “I…” My glare seemed to frighten her, but a quick glance at Alex standing nearby gave her a fresh surge of courage. She puffed out her chest. “You know perfectly well what you’ve been doing, don’t you?” “Right,” I said, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. “Just perfect.” I was done wasting my breath on her. I pulled out my phone and started dialing right in front of her. “Hello, 911? I’d like to report a crime. There’s someone here publicly slandering me, defaming my character…” “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Ms. Lynn! Please, calm down!” A middle-aged man with a “Chief Physician” badge clipped to his coat rushed in, clearly having heard the commotion. When he took in the scene—me on the phone with the police, Alex’s face a mask of thunder—he looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “Dr. Monroe, what… what’s going on here?” Alex’s voice was clipped. “Dr. Wallace, this intern here claims my ‘girlfriend’ has secondary syphilis.” The color drained from the chief’s face. He spun on Brooke, his voice a furious whisper. “Brooke! What do you think you’re doing? You don’t have a lab report, and you’re making a diagnosis with your eyes? What are you, a goddamn X-ray machine?!” “I… I…” Brooke’s tears flowed faster as she looked pleadingly at Alex. “Dr. Monroe, I was really just trying to help you! I…” “Shut up!” Dr. Wallace looked like his head was about to explode. He knew Alex had influence with the hospital administration. If this blew up, his whole department would be in hot water. “Apologize to Ms. Lynn and Dr. Monroe right now!” “Do you want to lose your residency spot?!” The words “residency spot” were clearly Brooke’s weak point. She trembled, biting her lip, her face a mask of humiliation and defiance. She reluctantly gave me a short, jerky bow. “I’m… sorry.” Her voice was as quiet as a mosquito’s buzz, but the venom in her eyes could have killed. “I don’t want your apology,” I cut her off, my gaze sweeping sharply between her and Dr. Wallace. “I’m going to get a full STD panel done. Right here, in your hospital. Right now.” I paused, enunciating every word. “And if the results come back clean, I’m not just suing you, Brooke, for slander. I’m suing this hospital for gross negligence and for allowing an intern to spread malicious lies.” Beads of cold sweat popped up on Dr. Wallace’s forehead. “Ms. Lynn, please, let’s not be hasty,” he said, forcing a smile. “This is all a big misunderstanding! Brooke, you’re suspended from your internship duties. Go write a ten-thousand-word self-criticism report! We’ll post a hospital-wide notice of reprimand!” I couldn’t be bothered to watch their pathetic drama anymore. I turned and walked away. Alex quickly followed, helping me register and get my blood drawn. I was so angry I basically did the blood draw on myself, finding the vein and inserting the needle with a grim satisfaction. It was past midnight by the time I dragged my rash-covered, furious self home. I swallowed my medication and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep. I had no idea that for every hour I slept, I was being crucified online. When I finally opened my eyes again, it was to the violent buzzing of my phone. A string of missed calls from Alex. “Hello…?” My voice was as scratchy as sandpaper. “Lia, thank God you finally picked up! Get on TikTok! Now! It’s a total disaster!” My stomach dropped. I opened the app. The 999+ notifications in my DMs and comments made my phone lag so badly it felt like I was watching a slideshow. A video from a local creator was trending, sitting right at the top of my feed. In the video, a girl in a white coat was sobbing into the camera. It was Brooke. The caption read: [I just wanted to be a good doctor, is that so wrong?] She didn’t use any names, but the background was unmistakably the ER hallway from last night. Between heart-wrenching sobs, she spoke. “…I was just trying to kindly warn the gentleman that his ‘girlfriend’s’ symptoms were very suspicious. If it was that kind of disease, it could be contagious. I never thought his girlfriend would react so violently and file a complaint against me…” “…Now, to smooth things over, my supervisor has suspended me and made me write a self-criticism report. After five years of medical school, I honestly don’t know what I did wrong…” “…Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but I just couldn’t bear to see that man kept in the dark. I did nothing wrong! I’m still the best Little Lamb!” That last part, “I’m still the best Little Lamb,” was her personal tag. The comment section had already exploded. 2 [Don’t cry, sweetie! You did nothing wrong! You’re just too kind!] [Seriously, some women these days have no shame. And then they get mad when you call them out?] [That patient was definitely just pissed you exposed her! Hugs for Little Lamb!] [OMG, isn’t that St. Jude’s Medical Center? I think I was there yesterday, that woman was a total nightmare!] [Someone find out who that woman is! We have to save that handsome guy from her!] I was shaking with rage. What a masterpiece of twisting the truth, “the best Little Lamb.” She was even replying to comments, vividly describing what I looked like. [The woman looked sickly, but she had a terrible temper. I have no idea how she managed to trick a guy like him. He’s so handsome and classy, they’re like night and day!] [I heard the handsome guy is an administrator here at the hospital, and he’s super nice! Ugh, what a waste!] My anger boiled over. I started typing a reply in the comments: [I’m the “patient” you’re talking about, and here’s what actually happened…] I had just furiously typed out half the story when a cold, gray box popped up on my screen: [Your account has been suspended due to multiple user reports of violating community guidelines.] My vision went black for a second. When I came to, I immediately contacted customer support, only to be told it would take three business days to review my case. Three business days? The damage would be irreversible by then. Alex was panicking on the other end of the line. “Lia, I’ve already spoken to the hospital director. They said they’ll issue a public statement to clarify everything immediately!” “Alex,” I said, taking a deep breath to force myself to stay calm. “Don’t. Right now, you’re the ‘poor, handsome guy being duped’ in her story. The more you defend me, the more they’ll think I have some powerful background and I’m using it to bully her.” “So what are we supposed to do? Just let her drag your name through the mud?” I hung up, my eyes fixed on Brooke’s tear-stained face in the video. Suddenly, I remembered the way she’d looked at Alex in the ER last night. It was… wrong. That wasn’t how an intern looked at a colleague. It was obsession. Jealousy. Resentment. She kept saying things like “for your own good” and “she doesn’t deserve you.” Why would a brand-new intern be so… invested in my brother’s love life? Unless… she knew him from before. A crazy idea, sharp as lightning, shot through my mind. I shot up in bed and dialed Alex’s number again. “Alex, I need you to do something for me. Right now. I need you to log in to the hospital’s internal staff forum.” “Huh? Right now? Why?” “Just do it. And search for a post.” Drawing on a hazy memory, I gave him a few keywords. “Try: Dr. Monroe, girlfriend, doesn’t deserve.” There was silence on the other end. As an administrator, Alex could access the internal network in seconds. Five minutes later, he called back, his voice thick with shock and disbelief. “Lia… how… how did you know?” He sent me a screenshot. It was a post from three months ago, in the “Anonymous Gossip” section of the hospital’s internal forum. The title was: [Vent] Dr. Monroe in Admin is so nice, but isn’t his girlfriend kind of a diva? The post read: [OP is a new intern. I saw Dr. Monroe in the cafeteria today, and his girlfriend (I assume) called. He had to drop everything and run down to the coffee shop in the lobby to buy her some special strawberry frappe.] [Last week, I saw her making him carry her shopping bags in the hospital garden. She was totally bossing him around, but Dr. Monroe is such a saint, he was smiling the whole time.] [And I heard she’s a massive spender. Most of Dr. Monroe’s salary goes straight to her.] [What’s so great about a woman like that? Why would Dr. Monroe be with her? I just feel so bad for him!] The replies were a mixed bag. [OP, you just have a crush on Dr. Monroe, don’t you?] [Hahaha, our Dr. Monroe is the hospital heartthrob. The line of people crushing on him is a mile long.] [I’ve seen that woman too. She’s gorgeous, but she looks really mean.] And when someone asked the original poster if she had a crush, she had replied with a long, defensive rant: [NO! I DON’T! Stop making things up! I just feel bad for Dr. Monroe! He’s such a good person, why does he have to be deceived by a woman like her?!] I stared at the screenshot, a chill spreading through my limbs. Three months ago, I had a dental appointment, and Alex offered to buy me a drink. I complained he got the flavor wrong, so I sent him back downstairs to get another one. Last week, my mom had us pick up her physical exam report from the hospital, and I’d done some shopping beforehand, so I made him carry my bags. As for his salary… my mom had confiscated his credit cards years ago for his reckless spending. I was the one holding them, giving him a monthly allowance. I took another deep breath, my voice as cold as ice. “Alex, trace the IP address of that post.” There was a pause. “…Lia, the IP address traces back to the intern dorms. Building A.” “And who… lives in Building A?” “…Dermatology and a few internal medicine interns.” Alex hesitated. “Brooke… Brooke lives in Building A.” 3 I laughed. A cold, hollow sound that nearly brought tears to my eyes. So this wasn’t a medical error. It wasn’t a random attack. This was a premeditated setup, a character assassination fueled by a one-sided crush. Brooke hadn’t misdiagnosed me. She had already judged and condemned me. She wasn’t diagnosing my illness; she was delivering my punishment. She was punishing me, the “awful woman” who “didn’t deserve” Alex and was “deceiving” him. Fine. You want to settle this online? Just then, a friend request popped up on my social media. The profile picture was Brooke’s own pitiful, tear-stained face. I accepted. A message came through instantly. [Ms. Lia Lynn, I presume? I honestly didn’t expect things to blow up online like this.] [I already know I was wrong, and I’ve asked for your forgiveness. But as a doctor, I feel I should still offer some advice. A girl should take care of her body. It’s really better not to be so… promiscuous.] Her condescending tone, as if she were some kind of savior, was infuriating. I stared at the words, a bitter laugh bubbling up inside me. I was about to unleash a torrent of curses, but my fingers froze over the screen. What was the point of yelling at her? It would only feed her ego. I deleted the long string of insults I had typed and calmly replied with a few words. [Are you at the hospital right now?] Brooke clearly hadn’t expected that question. A few seconds later, a single “?” appeared. Seeing that question mark, a cold smile touched my lips. I didn’t bother replying. I dialed Alex’s number instead. “Alex, do me a favor.” “Anything, Lia!” “Go live on your TikTok account.” “What?” “The title of the stream will be: [Regarding ‘Little Lamb’s’ Slander—The Patient’s Actual Brother Has Something to Say].” 4 The next morning, Alex and I walked back into that hospital. Alex’s TikTok account had a few tens of thousands of followers, mostly from his fitness videos and hospital-related informational content. The moment he started the livestream with that title, thousands of viewers poured in. Most of them were people who had followed the “Little Lamb” drama last night and had come to curse out the “slut” and the “blinded hottie.” [Ugh, that woman has the nerve to show her face at the hospital again?] [Is this guy insane? He’s that handsome and he chooses a girl with syphilis?] [You city people are wild!] I ignored the flood of comments and walked straight to the emergency department’s main hall. As I expected, Brooke was there. She wasn’t in her white coat. She had changed into a white dress and was laughing and chatting with another nurse, showing no signs of someone who had been suspended and was supposed to be reflecting on her actions. When she saw me, she froze for a second, then her lips curled into a slight, contemptuous smirk. But when her eyes moved past me and landed on Alex, who was holding his phone up and livestreaming, the color drained from her face. In the next instant, she put on a heart-wrenching, tearful expression and rushed toward us, bowing deeply over and over. “Dr. Monroe! Ms. Lynn! I’m so, so sorry!” “I truly had no idea the online reaction would be so huge… I never should have revealed your condition online, I was just so worried you might infect someone else…” She cried, stealing glances at Alex from the corner of her eye, her performance utterly convincing. The livestream chat instantly exploded. [Did you hear that! She admitted it herself! It’s a ‘condition,’ not an ‘allergic reaction’!] [I’m gonna be sick. And this woman dragged her ‘boyfriend’ here to cause more trouble?] I suppressed the inferno of rage in my chest and cut her performance short with a cold, clear voice. “A condition? Alright then.” I held up a manila folder I was carrying. “The results from last night’s blood test are in this folder.” Brooke’s sobs hitched. “But,” I continued, “I’m worried people will say we used our ‘connections’ to force the hospital to alter the report.” I turned to the camera, to the crowd of onlookers that had gathered in the lobby. “So, right here, right now, in front of everyone in this livestream, I’m going to register again, get my blood drawn again, and do another full panel of tests!” “And that’s not all,” I said, turning to Alex. Alex understood immediately and made a call. “Hello, is this the Notary Public’s office? I need an expedited on-site notarization service…” “This is…” Brooke’s face was now completely white. Just then, Dr. Wallace, the chief from yesterday, rushed over, his face livid. “This is absurd! What do you think a hospital is? A stage for your livestream drama?” He was clearly trying to shut this down. Alex walked over to him without a word and whispered something in his ear. I only caught a few words: “dean,” “internal forum,” “malicious slander.” Dr. Wallace’s face turned from white to green, then from green to a dark, stormy gray. He stared at Brooke, his eyes burning with a look that could have skinned her alive. Finally, he ground out three words through his teeth: “Let her test!” I took Alex’s phone and handled the registration and payment. On the screen, I ignored the vile comments scrolling by. Blood draw, urine sample, various scans… The notaries arrived quickly, and two of them set up their own cameras, recording the entire process. I remained perfectly calm through it all. Brooke tried to find an excuse to slip away several times, but Alex stood like a guard at the lab entrance, blocking her path every time. Her face grew paler, her eyes wild with panic. After all the tests were done, I crossed my arms and sat on a bench in the hospital lobby to wait. The number of viewers on the livestream had surpassed one hundred thousand, all of them waiting to see how this drama would end. Two hours later, I had all the printed report sheets in my hand. I didn’t even look at them. I handed the entire stack, along with the notarized documents, directly to Dr. Wallace. “Dr. Wallace,” I said with a small smile, “you’re the chief physician. You’re the expert. Would you please do the honors? Read my test results out loud for our friends in the livestream.” Dr. Wallace’s white coat was soaked with sweat. He took the stack of papers, his hands trembling. He cleared his throat and began to read, one sheet at a time. “Complete blood count, normal.” “Liver function, normal.” “Kidney function, normal.” … He read quickly, until he got to the very last page. His voice stopped abruptly. He looked up, gave me a strange, conflicted look, then glanced back down at the report in his hands. His eyes held a flicker of hesitation and something that looked almost like… pity? The livestream chat sensed that something was wrong. [Why’d he stop reading? What’s on the last page?] [Come on, say it! The suspense is killing me!] Under the pressure of hundreds of thousands of viewers, the doctor swallowed hard. He looked at the camera and forced out the words: “Syphilis antibody test… Positive (+).” “Diagnosis: Syphilis, Secondary Stage.”

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