My younger brother and sister both got accepted into college at the same time. Since my family’s financial situation was tight, my parents sat me down for a “discussion.” They would pay for my brother’s education, and I was expected to pay for my sister’s. I agreed to give my sister $200 a month for living expenses. Later, my sister graduated, passed the civil service exam, and became the pride of the entire family. Meanwhile, I overworked myself into a severe illness. When I reached out to her for help, she blocked my number. “Back then, you gave our brother $350 a month, but you only gave me $200! Do you have any idea how I survived those four years of college?!” I died in agonizing pain and complete despair. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the time they were both starting college. This time, facing my parents’ demands, I said: “If she can’t afford to go to school, then she shouldn’t go. Tell her to get a job.” 1 I woke up and found myself back in the year I graduated college. My younger brother, Tyler, and my younger sister, Mia, had both just been accepted into college. My mom grabbed my hand, sighing heavily, and poured her heart out about how hard things were for the family. The factory she worked at wasn’t doing well; she hadn’t been paid in months. Supporting two kids in college at the same time was just too difficult. She hoped I would start working immediately so I could help share the burden. “You don’t need to worry about your brother’s expenses. And we’ve already covered your sister’s tuition. All you have to do is send her monthly living expenses.” “Of course, we aren’t making you pay for everything. You’ll be the primary provider, and I’ll supplement it. If you’re ever really short on cash, Mom will help you out.” Her mouth moved as she spoke, her exhausted face perfectly aligning with my memories from my past life. Every tear, every look was designed to tell me how difficult things were for the family, and how incredibly selfish and immature I was being for wanting to go to grad school. In my past life, it was on this exact day. I gave up my acceptance letter to a top-tier university’s graduate program and frantically started submitting job applications. My undergraduate degree was in a foundational science, making it incredibly hard to find a job in my field. After bouncing around, I finally landed a job with a miserable salary of $600 a month. After sending Mia $200 every month and paying my rent, my bank account was basically at zero. For those few years, I worked a second job every night after my main job. I had no time to cook, surviving on cheap, $1 fast-food delivery meals to fill my stomach. No matter how hard or exhausting it was, every time I transferred money to my sister, I felt a massive sense of accomplishment. Because when I was in college, my parents didn’t give me a single cent. I survived entirely on part-time jobs. I had to pinch pennies just to eat, and I often couldn’t even afford basic necessities like sanitary pads. Because I had walked through the rain, I wanted to hold an umbrella for my sister. And eventually, my sister didn’t disappoint. Right after graduation, she passed the highly competitive civil service exam and became the most successful child in our family. Aside from my parents, I was the happiest person for her. However, ever since she graduated, her attitude towards me became incredibly cold. I couldn’t understand why. My parents consoled me: “Your sister is grown up now, you can’t expect her to be stuck to you like when you were kids. Working in the government is stressful, you need to be more understanding.” Even though it hurt, and I didn’t understand what happened, I obediently stopped bothering her. Until two years later, when I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. Due to chronic overwork, staying up late, eating cheap takeout, and having a highly irregular diet, I developed cancer at a very young age. The surgery cost $12,000. I only had $3,000 in savings. My coworkers, taking pity on me, pooled together another $3,000 to lend me. I was still short $6,000. I went to my parents for help. Looking distressed, they told me that my brother was getting married soon, the family was in debt, and they simply didn’t have any money to give me. Desperate, I turned to my sister for help, only to discover she had blocked my number. I couldn’t fathom why she would do that. When I finally managed to contact her from a different number, I heard her freezing, hateful voice: “Back then, you gave our brother $350 a month, but you only gave me $200! Do you have any idea how I survived those four years of college?!” “My living allowance was the lowest in my entire dorm! When my roommates went out to eat, I didn’t dare go. When I saw clothes I liked, if they cost more than $30, I couldn’t buy them. If I wanted to get my hair done, I had to calculate my bank balance first. For four whole years, I couldn’t even go on a single trip!” “I’m a girl too! I deserve nice clothes! I deserve expensive skincare products! I deserve to travel and see the world! But the pathetic amount of money you gave me was constantly telling me that I didn’t deserve any of that, that just not starving was good enough for me!” I was left completely speechless. I had no idea she thought like that. I had clearly done the absolute best I could. When I was barely surviving at the poverty line myself, how was I supposed to afford all those luxuries for her? I opened my mouth to explain, but no words came out. In the end, my mid-stage cancer dragged on until it became terminal, and I died alone in my rented apartment. And that very day happened to be my sister’s wedding day. She walked down the aisle holding my father’s arm, marrying the son of a wealthy entrepreneur, looking absolutely radiant and happy. Later, relying on the connections of his sister’s new in-laws, my brother also secured a respectable, high-paying job. The family’s life kept getting better and better. Only once a year, during the Tomb Sweeping Festival, would my mom occasionally remember her eldest daughter and sigh: “I guess she just had bad luck.” 2 “Ava? Ava?” Seeing me zone out, my mom called my name several times. I snapped back to reality and glanced around the room. My brother, Tyler, had his bedroom door firmly shut as he played video games. He hadn’t stepped out of his room for the entire summer break, except to eat. My sister, Mia, was lying on the sofa, scrolling through short videos and reading web novels, completely oblivious to everything happening around her. Meeting my mom’s expectant gaze, I suddenly felt like my past life had been a massive, pathetic joke. “Mom, the job market is terrible right now. If I don’t go to grad school and just start working, I’ll only make a few hundred dollars a month. How am I supposed to support Mia on that?” My mom’s face stiffened. “…But what about your sister? You know how things are with the family. Your dad’s health is bad, we’ve spent a lot on his medical bills, and we still have the mortgage…” She kept rambling, her voice choking with tears. If this were my past life, hearing these words would have filled me with overwhelming guilt, and I would have eagerly handed over whatever money I had. But now, I just smiled: “Mom, of course I know things are hard for you and Dad. But Tyler and Mia are both adults now. If we need to share the burden, it shouldn’t just fall on me. College students can take out student loans or get part-time jobs. That’s exactly what I did when I was in school. Since the family can’t afford it, they need to figure out their own solutions.” Hearing this, Mia, who had been completely engrossed in her phone, suddenly regained her hearing. She jumped off the sofa. “Sis, what do you mean by that? Just because your life sucks, you want to rob me of my freedom during college?!” Huh? How am I robbing you of your freedom? She tilted her chin up, her eyes full of disdain. “Girls are supposed to be raised with abundance! College is the best time of your life, it should be used for self-improvement and enjoying your youth! Working part-time just wastes time on meaningless, low-end labor. People like you who just love to suffer needlessly have such a narrow, pathetic worldview.” She spouted off a long, dramatic speech she had clearly memorized from some toxic internet influencer. I was utterly speechless. Suppressing my inner urge to laugh in her face, I smiled. “Don’t falsely accuse me. Who said you had to get a part-time job? Mom said that she and Dad can fully afford to support one of you. Since you can’t handle a little hardship, then I guess Tyler will just have to be the one to suffer.” As I spoke, I shot my mom a look. “Mom, I already saw the transfer you sent Tyler. $350 for the month, right? Since Mia says girls are supposed to be raised with abundance, that money should definitely go to her instead!” Hearing this, Mia looked utterly shocked. “Mom! Didn’t you tell me yesterday that we didn’t have any money?! Why did you give Tyler so much?! Don’t play favorites like that!” My mom’s face instantly turned ugly, and her voice grew sharp. “How am I playing favorites?! Boys naturally eat more! And things are expensive at his school! How is he supposed to survive without at least $300 or $400 a month? You’re his older sister, and instead of feeling bad for your brother, you’re trying to steal his food money?! I wasted my time raising you!” Mia exploded: “And you still say you aren’t playing favorites?! I finally realized today that you guys never loved me at all! I don’t care! Whatever you give him, you have to give me the exact same amount…” She started crying and throwing a tantrum, while my mom slammed her hand on the table and yelled at her. They were arguing loudly, creating quite a scene. Amidst their screaming match, I sneered and silently walked out the front door. In my past life, six months into her freshman year, Mia accidentally found out how much Tyler’s allowance was and threw a massive fit at my parents. But back then, my mom told her: “We’re only responsible for your brother. You are your sister’s responsibility. If she isn’t giving you enough, that’s her problem.” That one sentence made her resent me for years. In this life, I ripped off that hypocritical band-aid early. Let them tear each other apart. 3 I decisively went back to my university and began my graduate studies. I heard Mia threw tantrums for days until my parents finally agreed to give her $150 a month. She kept screaming that it wasn’t enough. My mom placated her: “It’s really not that Mom is playing favorites. Originally, when your sister graduated, we hoped she would help the family out and cover your living expenses. Who knew she would be so selfish and only care about herself?” “If she had just started working earlier, you wouldn’t be struggling like this.” With a few perfectly calculated words, she completely shifted all the blame and resentment back onto me. 4 Consequently, half a month into the semester, I received a link in my messages. “Sis, Mom and Dad are already paying for my living expenses. Buying me a new phone isn’t asking too much, right?” It was for an iPhone 16 Pro, costing nearly $1,500. Just like in my past life, whenever she wanted something, she demanded it from me as if it were her absolute birthright. Back then, I was broke and couldn’t possibly afford it. I gritted my teeth, sent her $400, and urged her to buy a cheaper Android phone instead. “You’re still a student. You don’t need such an expensive phone. The Android ones have a much better price-to-performance ratio.” However, that incident became the definitive “proof” of how I supposedly destroyed her self-esteem. Much later, I heard her say: “Back then, all my friends were using the newest iPhones, but you forced me to use a cheap, embarrassing Android phone. Do you have any idea how insecure and humiliated that made me feel?!” Well. Since an Android phone made her feel so humiliated, I definitely wasn’t going to buy her one in this life. That should solve her self-esteem issues, right? I typed back: “You’re a student, and I’m a student too. Where am I supposed to get the money for that?” Mia: “Don’t grad students get a stipend?” The grad student stipend was barely $150 a month. I was getting a little annoyed. “That stipend isn’t even enough to cover my food. I have no money.” She got angry: “Then you should go out and get a job! If you don’t have money, why are you even in grad school?! You know the family is struggling, but you refuse to help Mom and Dad out! You’re so selfish!” I laughed: “Then why don’t you go get a job? If you don’t have money, why are you in college? You know the family is struggling, why haven’t you dropped out to work? Aren’t you being selfish?” She sent a voice memo, her voice piercingly shrill: “How can you even compare us?! As the oldest sister, you’re practically a mother to me. This is your responsibility!” “Besides, someone with a miserable fate like yours is destined to end up working in a factory anyway! Reading more books is just a complete waste on you! It would be better to invest those resources into someone with actual value!” It took me two lifetimes to finally realize the truth. The sister I had always loved and spoiled had never, ever respected me. Perhaps it was because I had been so deeply conditioned by my parents since childhood, taking on so many responsibilities that were never mine to bear… That the brother and sister I practically raised single-handedly subconsciously viewed me as nothing more than their personal servant. I calmed myself down and replied, “You’re right. So why is someone as incredibly valuable as you having to beg for a phone like a homeless person?” It was like I stepped on her tail. She exploded: “You’re nothing special! I can buy it myself without you!” I locked my screen and didn’t bother replying again. 5 Two months later. I saw the newest iPhone model on Mia’s social media feed anyway. She had gotten expensive manicures, posted beautiful vacation photos, and looked incredibly comfortable and bourgeois. Based on the allowance my parents gave her, there was absolutely no way she could afford that lifestyle. And given her personality, there was zero chance she had earned that money working a part-time job. I thought about it for a moment. I opened her university’s official website. Sure enough, on the list of students receiving financial aid grants, I saw her name. 6 Honestly, our family’s financial situation wasn’t exactly wealthy, but we definitely weren’t living in actual poverty either. My parents owned the house they lived in and another apartment they rented out. Their combined monthly income was over $1,500. They simply didn’t want to spend too much money on their daughters. Because of this, even though I had struggled financially, I never applied for financial aid, refusing to steal resources from families who were genuinely poor. Mia clearly didn’t share that moral compass. 7 After thinking it over for a few minutes. I found the contact information for her university’s anonymous “Confessions/Gossip” page. And submitted an anonymous tip. 8 Very quickly, a post exposing a “financial aid student” buying luxury goods and taking vacations appeared on the page. The school forum erupted in controversy. Facing questioning from her classmates, Mia stubbornly defended herself: “I only use the financial aid money for food! The money I use for my phone and vacations is my own money!” Her arrogant, unapologetic attitude enraged the student body. Students started reporting her to the academic affairs office en masse. Her financial aid status was quickly revoked. And she was given a formal disciplinary warning on her record. She was so furious she started posting unhinged rants on her social media. “I don’t know which jealous, ugly bitch reported me, but who says poor students can’t travel or buy iPhones?! The money was given to me, so it’s mine! How I spend it is none of your business! Why are you acting like the morality police?!” Watching her impotent rage… I casually swiped past the post, enjoying the monkey show from a civilized distance. Without my financial support and with her financial aid revoked… Mia’s life became significantly harder than it had been in my past life. Ultimately, she had no choice but to resort to the “meaningless, low-end labor” she so deeply despised. But her personality meant she couldn’t handle the hardship. She thought washing dishes was disgusting, shaking bubble tea was exhausting, and she didn’t have the patience to deal with bratty kids as a tutor. She bounced around and ended up making basically no money. She spent every day exhausted, running around, filled with resentment and complaints. 9 Meanwhile, I buried myself in my research, leading projects and working closely with my advisor. I traveled all over the country attending academic conferences. I was busy, but deeply fulfilled. Having earned this chance at grad school after two lifetimes, I cherished it more than anything. Watching my data sets slowly come together, the deep wounds from my past life slowly began to heal. Three years flew by in the blink of an eye. As graduation approached, I started looking at campus recruitment opportunities. With the prestige of a top-tier university backing me… The opportunities in this life were infinitely better than my last. I successfully passed the interviews for a technical engineering role at a massive, state-owned enterprise. The job was located in a southern city, over a thousand miles away from home. The salary and benefits also far exceeded my expectations.

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My husband couldn’t forget his “one that got away.” In the VIP room of a club, drunk out of his mind, he confessed his truth to his friends: “I’ve loved her for years. It killed me that she got married before I could confess. And now that she’s finally divorced, it kills me that I’m married.” I wasn’t angry. I still stayed by his side. My husband despised me. He saw me as a pathetic, clingy doormat with no personality, an obstacle standing between him and his true love. He desperately wanted to divorce me. But every time he brought it up, I refused. What he didn’t know was that he was just my assigned target. I only needed to reject his demand for a divorce three times, and the system would forcibly terminate my mission. … When I rushed to the club through the pouring rain, I arrived just in time to hear Arthur Sterling’s confession: “I’ve loved her for years, but before I could tell her, she got married.” “And now that she’s finally divorced, I’m the one who’s tied down.” One of his frat brothers teased him, “You could always just get a divorce, man.” Arthur’s drunken voice dripped with disdain and contempt. “That woman is obsessed with me. She’s practically psychotic. Do you really think she’d ever agree to a divorce?” “You guys have no idea. Every time I see her hovering around me, I get sick to my stomach. She has absolutely no personality, no sense of self.” “She couldn’t even compare to one of Chloe’s fingernails.” I stood frozen in the hallway outside the open door. Behind me, the sharp click-clack of high heels echoed. It was Arthur’s beloved “one that got away,” Chloe Vance. “Mia, you’re here. Why aren’t you going inside?” she asked, her voice light and musical. She flashed me a brilliant, arrogant smile, her pretty eyes glinting with malice. “What are you eavesdropping on?” The men inside suddenly noticed me. The color drained from their faces, and they shot guilty, panicked looks at Arthur. For a split second, Arthur looked sober and terrified, but his expression instantly hardened into ice. “You heard all of that?” There were too many people in the room. To save Arthur’s face, I played dumb. “Heard what? I just got here.” Arthur let out a cold, disgusted laugh and turned his head away, refusing to look at me. I walked into the room to help him up. “It’s really late. Let’s go home.” Arthur violently shoved me away without a shred of hesitation. He snapped impatiently, “Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t coming home tonight? Why did you track me down? Do you have any idea how annoying you are?” He was drunk, so he didn’t bother hiding his temper. His expression was a terrifying, vicious scowl I had never seen before. It made him look like a complete stranger. Actually, maybe not a stranger. He had been treating me like this for a while now. Ever since his “true love” announced her divorce. “Arthur, don’t talk to Mia like that. She only came to pick you up because she cares about you,” Chloe chimed in with sickeningly fake sweetness. “How about this: Mia and I will take you home together. Is that okay?” Arthur looked at Chloe’s face, and his features softened visibly. “Okay.” So, I ended up driving, while Arthur and Chloe squeezed into the backseat together. I don’t know if Arthur was actually blackout drunk or just doing it on purpose, but he laid his head directly on Chloe’s lap, resting there intimately like they were deeply in love. It made my eyes burn. Chloe offered a sickly-sweet apology. “Mia, please don’t misunderstand. Arthur is just drunk. I really hope you two don’t fight because of me.” I didn’t say a word. I had absolutely zero desire to waste my energy interacting with a manipulative homewrecker. But Chloe just wouldn’t shut up. “You really do have a boring personality. No wonder you and Arthur haven’t developed any real feelings after being married for five years.” Chapter 2 Those words actually stung. Yeah. Once upon a time, I had genuinely fantasized about the whole “arranged marriage turning into true love” trope with him. But at the end of the day, Arthur always loved his “one that got away” more. When the car pulled up to the estate, Chloe completely ignored me and practically carried Arthur inside by herself. I didn’t stop her. I just sat in the driver’s seat, looking at the photo I had just taken on my phone. The next day, when Arthur sobered up, I shoved the photo in his face. It was a picture of him sleeping peacefully on Chloe’s lap, while she gazed down at him with profound affection. Arthur stared at the screen, stunned. Then, a subtle wave of joy washed over his face. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was absolutely thrilled that Chloe was looking at him with love in her eyes. So, I intentionally threw a massive tantrum, screaming at him, “What exactly is going on between you and that homewrecking slut, Chloe Vance?!” Arthur’s brow furrowed instantly. “Mia, watch your mouth. Have some class, will you?” I yelled back furiously, “Even if I have no class, I am still your wife! I have every right to control what you do, and I have every right to curse out the homewrecker you’re messing around with!” I used the ugliest words I could think of. Just as I hoped, Arthur’s expression turned pitch black. He glared at me with absolute freezing hatred. “What? Am I not your wife? Do I not have that right?!” “Then let’s get a divorce,” Arthur said, his voice dripping with profound exhaustion and disgust. “Mia, we’re getting a divorce.” I forced myself to look hysterical and screamed, “I will not agree to that! Arthur Sterling, I will never divorce you!” Arthur gave me a look that practically said, I knew it. As if he had predicted exactly how pathetic and desperate I would be. Sick of my presence, he slammed the bedroom door and left. The second he was gone, the furious mask melted off my face. I calmly pulled out a chair and sat down at my desk. Finally. He initiated the divorce. Six years ago, the System pulled me into this dimension and assigned me the mission of capturing Arthur Sterling’s heart. For six years, I played the role of the devoted, deeply-in-love woman flawlessly. I sacrificed everything to marry him. At one point, I even actually fell for him. But Arthur still didn’t love me. I failed the mission. Now, the only way out was the fail-safe: if Arthur explicitly demanded a divorce three separate times, the mission would be forcibly terminated, and I could finally return to my own world. That was strike one. Just two more to go. When Arthur returned home later that day, I was in my study, organizing my illustration drafts. After marrying Arthur, I became a full-time housewife, but I also worked as a freelance illustrator. I had actually built a pretty solid following online. Right now, I was finalizing my very first original comic series. It had taken me over two years to conceptualize and draw. Originally, I planned to publish it in this world, but since I was leaving soon, I decided to take the intellectual property back to my original dimension with me. Hearing the front door open, I closed my sketchbook and walked out to greet him, pretending our massive fight never happened. “You’re back?” I asked softly. Arthur looked incredibly stiff and awkward, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. I walked toward him, knowing exactly what was coming, but feigning ignorance. “I made your favorite soup. Let me go heat it up for you.” The second I stepped out of the study, I saw exactly why Arthur looked so guilty. Chloe was standing in the foyer, holding a massive suitcase. “Hi, Mia,” Chloe said, flashing me a gentle, apologetic smile. “I’ve been getting harassed by some crazy stalker fans lately, so I can’t stay at my place. Would it be okay if I crashed here for a few days until things cool down?” I stared at her, my face completely blank. I didn’t say a word. Arthur, clearly feeling guilty, spoke up softly to defend her. “It’s true. Some fan leaked Chloe’s address. They’ve been banging on her door every night and following her.” Seeing my continued silence, Arthur started to lose his patience. His brows drew together in an irritated scowl. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Chloe. We’ve just been friends for years. She’s in trouble, and I can’t just leave her out on the street.” “Mia, there has to be a limit to your irrational jealousy. Stop testing my patience. We’ve been married for five years; can you please grow up and stop acting like a dramatic teenager?” “Fine,” I said, breaking my gaze away from Chloe and looking directly at Arthur. “She can stay.” Chapter 3 Why wouldn’t I let her stay? Having her living under the same roof was the fastest way to detonate the remaining tension between Arthur and me. It was the quickest way to get him to demand a divorce for the second time. The sooner I could leave this world, the better. Arthur looked at me in genuine shock. His eyes flickered with something unreadable—almost like he was still unsatisfied. “What? I said yes, and you’re still not happy?” Arthur frowned, pointing a warning finger at me. “Don’t try anything stupid. If I find out you’re secretly bullying Chloe while I’m not around, I won’t let it slide.” I actually wanted to laugh out loud. I was his legal wife, yet he was bending over backwards to protect an outsider from me. I really wanted to ask him: Arthur, after all these years together, have you honestly never felt a single shred of genuine affection for me? But I didn’t. Arthur ignored me and hurried down the stairs to help Chloe with her luggage. While he was setting up the guest room, I heard him cheerfully say to her, “Mia made this incredible herbal soup earlier. Once we’re done unpacking, I’ll bring you a bowl.” “Mia has a lot of flaws, but her cooking is top-tier. Your health hasn’t been great lately, so we’ll have her cook some nutritious meals for you while you’re here.” I rolled my eyes and scoffed. Arthur, do you really think that just because we’re married, I’m your personal maid? Do you honestly believe that no matter how much you degrade me, I’ll never leave you? I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I’m finally gone. I walked downstairs, went straight into the kitchen, drank one bowl of the soup myself, and poured the entire rest of the pot straight down the garbage disposal. I spent all day simmering that soup. I’d rather pour it down the drain than let this trashy duo have a single drop. I went back up to my study and resumed organizing my comic drafts. Not ten minutes later, Arthur violently shoved the study door open, glaring at me. “Where is the soup?” I kept my eyes on my tablet and answered coldly, “I dumped it.” “What?!” Arthur looked like a completely different person. His voice exploded with rage. “Mia, what the hell is your problem?! If you didn’t want Chloe to stay here, you should have just said no! What is the point of agreeing to her face and then playing these passive-aggressive, petty little games behind my back?!” I looked up at him, my voice freezing cold. “If I had said no, would you have gracefully accepted it without throwing a fit?” Arthur glared at me, struck speechless. I stared right back at him, holding my breath, waiting for him to drop the D-word for the second time. But to my immense disappointment, he didn’t. He just slammed the door and stormed out again. Late that night, after washing up, I got into bed. Downstairs in the living room, Arthur and Chloe were drinking wine and laughing. The atmosphere sounded incredibly cozy and romantic; their laughter echoed all the way up to the master bedroom. I don’t know how much time passed. I was deep in sleep when I suddenly felt heavy arms wrap around me from behind. It was Arthur. His breath was scorching hot and reeked of alcohol. He started pressing wet, sloppy kisses against the back of my neck. A wave of absolute revulsion washed over me. I violently shoved him off. “What are you doing?!” The shove sobered him up slightly. He scowled in annoyance. “You’re my wife. What do you think I’m doing?” Seeing me physically recoil from him, his face darkened into a menacing glare. “This is your duty as a wife. Mia, if you’re going to keep acting like a prude and refuse to let me touch you, then get the hell out of my house.” Ever since I discovered he was emotionally cheating with Chloe, I hadn’t let him touch me. It had been almost three months. “Your house?” I asked, my voice flat. Arthur looked at me with smug, absolute superiority, fully convinced I was about to yield. “When you married me, you had absolutely nothing. I paid for this house entirely by myself, so yes, it’s my house. Did you forget, Mia? You literally begged me to marry you.” “If you aren’t going to let me touch you, then get out!” Chapter 4 I was so utterly speechless that I just went quiet, and then a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Back then, he was my assigned target. To complete the mission, I really had begged him to marry me. I couldn’t deny it. I just never expected that the man I had actually developed real feelings for would weaponize my vulnerability to obliterate my dignity. “Fine. I’m leaving.” I opened the closet and haphazardly threw a few essentials into a duffel bag. Before walking out the door, I paused for a second. I was waiting for him to deliver the killing blow—to say something cruel, like, If you walk out that door, we’re getting a divorce. But Arthur completely misread my hesitation. He ruthlessly mocked me. “I thought you were leaving? Go on! Walk out!” His tone made it painfully obvious that he thought I was just throwing a theatrical tantrum for attention, and that I’d never actually leave him. I realized the fire wasn’t quite hot enough yet. I needed to push him over the edge. So, I pivoted, marched straight to the guest room where Chloe was sleeping, and started violently pounding on the door. I wanted to manufacture a catastrophic, explosive argument to force Arthur to say the word ‘divorce’. Arthur sprinted down the hall and grabbed my arm, yanking me back. “What the hell are you doing, Mia?! Have you lost your damn mind?!” I thrashed against his grip. “Let me go! Arthur, don’t think I don’t know exactly what you’re planning! You’re obsessed with Chloe, aren’t you?! I’m going to ask her right now if she actually wants you!” I thought pushing this specific button would guarantee he demanded a divorce. But I never, in a million years, expected his reaction. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the hallway. I froze, completely stunned into silence. Arthur looked equally shocked. He stood there, staring at his trembling hand, his lips parting slightly. He looked like he wanted to apologize, but his pride wouldn’t let him. Finally, he just gritted out, “Get back in your room.” I felt a profound, bottomless disappointment in him. Staring at his bloodshot eyes, I felt tears threatening to spill. Arthur couldn’t maintain eye contact. He looked away and muttered, “Mia, if you pull a stunt like this again, I really will divorce you.” Finally. I finally heard the words I had been waiting for. Even though every fiber of my being was screaming YES! Let’s go sign the papers right now!, I had to play my part. I forced myself to look devastated, choking back tears of “anger and betrayal.” “I will never agree to that!” I turned and practically sprinted out of the villa. Finally. Just one more strike, and I could permanently evacuate this nightmare. I wandered the empty streets for hours before finally stopping. Staring at the desolate roads and the flickering amber streetlights, a heavy wave of existential dread washed over me. Six years ago, I was dropped into this world. My entire existence had revolved around one single objective: Arthur Sterling. I had spent so much time orbiting him that I had never bothered to build a life or a social circle of my own. Thank God I had never given up my career as an illustrator. Once I returned to my original world, I could use my new comic series to establish myself as a successful artist. The thought of my comic made me instantly regret storming out so fast. I had forgotten my manuscript drafts in the study. I’d have to find an excuse to go back and pack them up. I checked into a nearby hotel. Days passed, and Arthur didn’t reach out once. I didn’t want to waste any more time, so just as I was hyping myself up to go back to the villa and force the final confrontation, disaster struck. Chloe Vance uploaded my entire comic series to her massive art account. She had digitized my hand-drawn drafts, but the character designs, the plot, the storyboards… it was all a 1:1 stolen copy. I was so furious I nearly blacked out. I immediately called Arthur. I called five times. He ignored every single one, and eventually just turned his phone off. I forced myself to calm down. I logged onto my own art account, tagged Chloe, and publicly accused her of plagiarism. Chloe and I were both illustrators, but our careers were vastly different. I focused entirely on the art, while she operated more like an influencer. She had recently monetized her highly publicized divorce to farm massive amounts of sympathy and traffic, so her follower count was currently explosive. Chloe immediately released a statement denying the allegations, calling me a liar and demanding I produce hard evidence or issue a public apology. My original physical drafts were locked in the study at the villa. I obviously couldn’t produce them on the spot. Within minutes, her rabid fanbase swarmed my account, flooding my comments and DMs with so much toxic abuse that my phone literally crashed.

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Chapter 1 Every time my husband went to visit his terminally ill childhood friend, he would hint at getting a divorce. Because his childhood friend’s greatest dying wish was to have a legitimate title. Today, he hinted at it again. I didn’t cry, and I didn’t make a scene. I just calmly said, “Okay.” Because this exact conversation had already happened ninety-nine times. And today was the one-hundredth time. I had finally found the definitive reason to convince myself to divorce him. I had miscarried our baby. Now, the only thing tying us together was two thin pieces of paper—our marriage certificate. … Seven days after my miscarriage, I ran into Liam at the mall. He was carrying bags full of shopping, his eyes overflowing with tenderness as he looked at Olivia. But the moment he saw me, he frowned instantly. “What are you doing here? Didn’t we agree to get the divorce finalized first? Are you backing out now?” He looked at me defensively, his icy stare piercing straight through to my heart. Olivia playfully swatted his arm and looked at me apologetically: “Serena, please don’t misunderstand. Liam is just too eager to marry me.” Saying that, she covertly glanced at my stomach, a smug smile playing on her lips. “Our wedding is set for next week. We’d love it if you and the baby came to watch.” I instinctively touched my flat stomach. Before I could speak, Liam cut me off: “How can she come to a wedding when she’s pregnant? What if her condition brings you bad luck? It’s bad energy.” My hand froze on my stomach. Once again, I was stunned by Liam’s absolute callousness. Olivia has a terminal illness, and you don’t think that’s bad luck? You spend every day running around a hospital, and you don’t think that’s bad luck? But because I was carrying your flesh and blood, you think I’m bad luck. It was truly ironic. But then again, I wasn’t Olivia. Why would I deserve your concern? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have completely vanished while knowing I was in the hospital trying to save my pregnancy. If you had just asked me a single question, you would have known. Our baby was already gone. Seeing me stay silent, Liam didn’t care. He just lowered his head and went back to discussing wedding details with Olivia, completely ignoring me. I watched them silently, countless memories flashing through my mind. Ever since Olivia was diagnosed with her terminal illness, Liam became a completely different person. He stopped caring about our baby, and he stopped coming home. Disappearing without a trace became a regular occurrence. At first, he said: “Serena, Olivia is very sick. I can’t just leave her side.” “Don’t worry, I just feel sorry for her. There’s nothing else going on.” Later, he said: “Serena, Olivia’s greatest dying wish is to marry me. I don’t want her to die with any regrets.” I knew exactly what he was implying, but I refused to understand. He dropped that hint ninety-nine times. And I found ninety-nine different excuses to reject him, ninety-nine times. Until the one-hundredth time, when he stopped hinting. That day, right after I received my 32nd progesterone injection to save the pregnancy, I walked out of the hospital and received a text from Liam. No concern, no comfort. Just a cold, hard notification. [The day after tomorrow, 9:00 AM, meet me outside the courthouse. We’re getting a divorce.] A single sentence, just a few words, completely shattered me. That day, lying on the cold concrete of the parking garage, I called Liam countless times. But in the end, the only call that went through was to 911. The doctor told me they couldn’t save the baby. I lay in my hospital bed from dusk till dawn, waiting, only to receive a single text from him. [Stop calling me so much. The ringing is annoying.] Staring at the message on my screen, I bit my lip until it bled. Liam, I agree. From now on, we will never have anything to do with each other again. I wish you… happiness. My memories stopped there. Liam nudged me, reminding me coldly: “Don’t forget, we’re going to get the divorce finalized tomorrow. Don’t try to fake being sick again.” I was stunned for a moment, then I remembered. On the third day after my miscarriage, Liam had called me. It was the only call he made, while he was waiting outside the courthouse. At the time, I had just finished an IV drip that lasted all night, and I was in terrible shape. When I answered the call, I accidentally hit the speakerphone button, and Liam’s impatient, accusing voice echoed through the entire hospital room. “Serena, is this fun for you?” “We agreed on 9:00 AM for the divorce, and it’s already noon. What excuse are you going to use this time?” Under the strange looks from the nurses, it took all my strength to stop trembling. I replied softly: “I’m in the hospital.” The breathing on the other end of the line hitched for a second, then quickly returned to normal. I heard Liam’s disdainful chuckle: “Enough. Stop making excuses. I’ll give you one last chance.” “Next Wednesday, I’ll see you at the courthouse.” The call ended. The nurses didn’t say anything, they just quietly walked out. The moment the door clicked shut, my remaining dignity was utterly destroyed. That was when I realized that the most painful thing wasn’t the harm inflicted by the person you love. It was the pity from bystanders while the person you love is hurting you. Closing my eyes, I pulled myself out of the mud of my memories: “Okay.” Liam raised an eyebrow and continued: “After the divorce, just stay home and focus on your pregnancy. Don’t contact me unless it’s an absolute emergency.” “Okay.” Perhaps because I agreed too readily, Liam was actually taken aback. He loosened his grip on Olivia and his gaze fell on my stomach. “How’s the baby? Is he behaving?” The moment he spoke, my eyes instantly turned red. I used every ounce of my strength to swallow the sob rising in my throat. “He’s behaving. Very well-behaved.” So well-behaved that even when he left, he couldn’t bear to let me suffer for too long. Terrified that I would lose control of my emotions, I didn’t dare say another word and simply turned to leave. As we brushed past each other, I noticed a lipstick stain on Liam’s collar. It was the exact same shade as the lipstick on Olivia’s lips. And the exact same color as the blood on the parking garage floor that day. Walking past a maternity store, a salesperson enthusiastically stopped me. “Ms. Davis, the clothes you ordered last time have arrived.” “Is it convenient for you to pick them up today?” I was about to say I didn’t need them anymore, but my eyes uncontrollably locked onto the baby in the poster. If my baby had been born safely, he probably would have been just as cute. While I was distracted, the salesperson efficiently bagged the clothes and handed them to me. It was a pastel yellow baby onesie. Liam’s favorite color was yellow. I stared blankly at the tiny clothes in the bag and fled the mall in a panic. The moment I closed my car door, the dam broke. How muffled and agonizing can the cries of a mother who just lost her child be? In that moment, I finally knew. By the time I got home, it was late at night. The moment I opened the fridge, I saw the papayas inside. I couldn’t eat them while I was pregnant, and every time I saw them, my mouth would water. Now that I could eat them, seeing them only made me want to cry. Going back to the kitchen, I made two dishes. Papaya stewed in milk, and a bowl of chicken congee. Just as I was about to eat, I heard the sound of keys turning in the front door. Liam walked in, pulling a suitcase behind him. I found it strange; he hadn’t been home in a long time since Olivia’s condition worsened. “Why are you back? Don’t you need to stay with Olivia?” Liam dragged his suitcase straight toward the bedroom, answering casually: “Since Olivia and I are getting married, I came back specifically to pack my things.” “Saves me the trouble later.” I gave a noncommittal “hmm,” but my mind uncontrollably flashed back to Olivia’s words. [Our wedding is set for next week. We’d love it if you and the baby came to watch.] Right, it was only a few days away. If he didn’t move his things now, he might catch my ‘bad luck’ in a few days, and then he wouldn’t be able to shake it off. My tears fell into my bowl, vanishing without a trace, just like Liam’s love for me. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He used to anticipate this baby’s arrival, too. We had been so happy for so long. I lowered my head, about to eat my congee, when Liam, having finished packing, suddenly spoke up: “You made chicken congee?” “What a coincidence, Olivia didn’t have dinner. This will be perfect to tide her over.” With that, he naturally walked over and snatched the bowl right out of my hands. I stared at my empty hands, forgetting to react for a moment. It wasn’t until he had already found a clean thermos to pack the congee that I finally spoke: “That’s my dinner.” Liam didn’t even look up as he packed the thermos. “Aren’t there other things on the table? Just eat that.” My gaze fell on the bowl of papaya stewed in milk. I twitched my lips and said softly: “Pregnant women shouldn’t eat papaya.” Liam froze for a second, setting down the thermos: “Then… maybe just eat a little less?” “You’ve had so many prenatal checkups and everything is fine. A little bit shouldn’t hurt, right?” My nose stung. I lifted my head, refusing to let the tears fall. “It’s fine.” The baby was already gone, so nothing mattered anymore. Perhaps sensing my sadness, Liam sighed and pulled me into a hug. “Serena, just hold on a little longer, okay?” “Once the wedding is over, I promise I’ll spend quality time with you. Just bear with it for a bit, alright?” I gave an “mhm,” but my mind uncontrollably drifted to the past. [Serena, Olivia can’t be left alone right now. Once she’s feeling better, I’ll go with you to your prenatal checkup.] [Serena, Olivia has a fever. I’ll call you after her tests are done.] [Serena, Olivia won’t let me leave. I’ll come home to you after she falls asleep.] Liam, when will you realize that I truly can’t wait anymore? I pulled out of his embrace and handed him the thermos. “Go.” Don’t look back. The moment he was about to close the door, I called out to him. “Liam, do you remember what number you were on when you asked me for a divorce that day?” Liam’s back stiffened. Before he could speak, I continued: “One hundred.” “Today is one hundred and one.” “Tomorrow, outside the courthouse. Be there.” With that, I stepped forward and slowly, but firmly, closed the door. Leaning against the door, I heard Liam’s rapid breathing on the other side. He didn’t leave, and I didn’t move. The physical distance between us was just a four-inch thick door. But our hearts were separated by an entire world. The next second, Liam used his key to open the door. He didn’t step inside, just looked at me for a long time. Finally, he pulled a palm-sized baby rattle from his pocket and handed it to me. “I saw this at the mall today. Our baby should like it.” That one sentence shattered all the strength I had forced myself to build. Taking the rattle, I immediately closed and locked the door, collapsing to the floor, sobbing silently. I didn’t understand why people only recognize love after they’ve lost it. Why must he give me a glimmer of hope right after I had finalized my decision? The rattle fell to the floor with a sharp, crisp clink. I sat there on the floor, withered, for the entire night. The next morning, I left on time. As soon as I got in the car, I received a call from the hospital, asking me to pick up the miscarriage report I had left behind. I hadn’t had the courage to open it back then, burying my head in the sand and leaving it at the hospital. I thought that as long as I didn’t look at it, I could pretend nothing had happened. Now, it was time to wake up. At 9:00 AM, Liam was late. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night either, his eyes bloodshot. When he saw me, a flash of disappointment crossed his eyes. “I thought… you wouldn’t come today.” I didn’t say anything, just walked into the courthouse ahead of him. How could I not come? We had both waited too long for this day. Right before signing, Liam suddenly hesitated. His black pen hovered over the paper for a long time, refusing to move. Seeing this, the clerk kindly suggested: “Since the gentleman hasn’t fully made up his mind, maybe you should reconsider.” I smiled, finding it ironic. If he truly hadn’t made up his mind, why would he have insisted on it a hundred times? Liam turned to look at me and whispered: “Serena, as soon as Olivia and my wedding is over, we’ll remarry.” I gave another “mhm,” remaining silent. I figured, he had lied to me so many times, it was my turn to lie to him. Holding the divorce certificate, Liam’s heart beat erratically. He felt an intense, inexplicable unease, as if he had missed something crucial. Walking out the front doors, Olivia had also arrived. She was wearing a yellow sundress, looking absolutely healthy in the sunlight, without a trace of illness. I tilted my head, gesturing to Liam: “Olivia is waiting for you.” Liam gave an unnatural “mhm,” his face devoid of joy. Olivia walked over, pulled an invitation from her purse, and handed it to me with a smile: “Serena, Liam and I talked about it, and we still want to welcome you and the baby to our wedding.” “Here is your invitation.” My first instinct was to tell her I didn’t have a baby anymore, and I wouldn’t be going to the wedding. But then I caught a glimpse of Liam’s tense expression. Forget it, we’re divorced anyway. What’s the point of saying it now? Shaking my head, I stepped around them, ready to leave. A couple walking toward me bumped into me. Smack! My purse fell, its contents spilling all over the ground. Liam’s pupils contracted. He immediately rushed to help me up, asking with urgent concern: “Are you okay? Does your stomach hurt? Our ba—” The rest of his sentence died in his throat. The man’s gaze was locked onto the miscarriage report lying on the ground.

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Everyone says Dominic Sterling is a cold, aloof, and untouchable elite. But the truth is, he followed me around like a love-struck puppy for ten years. When I was pushed into a raging fire, he didn’t even hesitate. He threw away his billion-dollar empire and leaped into the flames to die with me. Reborn into a new life, I decided to stop being the toxic, manipulative woman who constantly toyed with his heart. I promised myself I would treat him well with every ounce of my being. Unfortunately, it seemed he was reborn too. “Seraphina Vance, are you planning to treat me like a trained dog again in this life? Hmm?” He backed me into a corner, shoving divorce papers into my hands. He told me that in this lifetime, he absolutely didn’t want me anymore. Absolutely not. 1 When I was eleven, someone deliberately broke five of my fingers. From that moment on, I swore to myself that I would climb to the absolute top of this world. No matter the cost, by any means necessary. Later, I did a lot of terrible things. Eventually, someone took their revenge by pushing me into a roaring fire. As the flames swallowed me whole, my mind went completely blank. Then, a figure in a white shirt charged into my vision and pulled me into a bone-crushing embrace. It was Dominic Sterling. My husband. The man who loved me so much he was willing to die for me. The man whose only flaw in an otherwise spotless life… was me. As we burned to ash together, a single thought crossed my mind. If there’s a next life, I swear to God, I will rip out my own heart and treat him better than anyone else in the world. 2 “These are the divorce papers.” “Sign them.” The flickering lights made my head spin. The man standing across from me lowered his eyes. Hiding the freezing coldness in their depths. “Dominic.” “Don’t do this.” I tried to grab his hand. His veins popped against his skin as he snatched his hand away violently. It had only been one hour and forty-one minutes since I was reborn. Suddenly, I felt a strange, inexplicable sense of relief. Dominic Sterling finally realized I was just a toxic woman who lied, manipulated him, and stole his money. He didn’t want me anymore. 3 I sat in a small cake shop, looking through the thin glass window. Staring at the two figures moving around in the academic building across the street. Dominic definitely didn’t know I was secretly watching him. Watching him explain a complex problem to that girl, who was practically rubbing against his sleeve. Right. In this life, Dominic finally knows who is truly kind and who is truly innocent. Yet, I still rested my chin in my hand and texted that girl. “Mia, why are you trying to seduce your brother-in-law?” 4 Mia Vance is my younger sister. To be precise, she is the biological heiress. I’m the fake one. When I was twelve, Mrs. Vance found me wandering the streets during a massive thunderstorm and took me in. Everyone thought it was fate. It wasn’t. To make sure Mrs. Vance would find a pitiful, broken child in the rain that day… I intentionally, violently broke my own leg. I wanted wealth. I wanted power. I wanted to stand above everyone else. I wanted to make sure I never had to swallow the agonizing humiliation of poverty ever again. Mia wasn’t found and brought back to the Vance family until she was sixteen. She was eternally kind, innocent, and pure. Everything I had to shatter my own bones to get, she received effortlessly, without doing a single thing. I hated her. I couldn’t understand why she never had to fall into the mud and taste true suffering. 5 I was just that kind of vicious, toxic woman. That’s why I suffered so miserably in my past life. Perhaps Mia really was exactly what people called her. She was “a girl like an angel.” And I had angered the heavens. In this life, the only person who had ever truly loved me had also turned his back on me. I curled up on the sofa, staring at the divorce papers on the coffee table. “Dominic, are you coming home tonight?” That text message had been sitting in my phone, unread and unanswered, for four entire hours. Dominic had a naturally cold personality. His friends always joked that he was a giant block of ice. But in my past life, I never felt that way. I just thought he was my loyal puppy. He would come running the second he caught my scent, constantly rubbing against me. The moment my hand was free, he had to hold it. Forget leaving messages on read—if I sent one text, he would reply with ten paragraphs of loving nagging. But now… A notification popped up. I thought it was him and rushed to check. It wasn’t. It was Mia. A text and a photo. “Sis, I have absolutely no intention of seducing my brother-in-law.” “I just want to help manage Dad’s company, so brother-in-law was kind enough to introduce me to some key contacts.” In the photo, the girl smiled brightly, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. They looked like the perfect couple. 6 I must have called Dominic over a dozen times. He didn’t answer a single one, and eventually, he just blocked my number. Honestly, Dominic was completely clueless when it came to social networking and corporate schmoozing. He was purely an academic. In my past life, to snatch a portion of my dad’s corporate shares away from Mia… I ordered him to schmooze and secure connections with top executives at pharmaceutical companies for me. He did it without a single complaint. I never stopped to consider that he was an elite university professor, a man of immense pride. I never thought about how much he had to swallow his pride to beg those corporate sharks for favors. I only remembered one specific incident from my past life. I had just secured a massive deal and gotten completely wasted. I called him to come pick me up. The private VIP room was filled with powerful, influential figures. I leaned back against the plush sofa, watching that crisp white figure walking steadily toward me. “Tsk tsk tsk…” I called him over exactly like I was calling a dog. An incredibly respected medical professor. A man who never bowed his head to anyone in his daily life. To be treated as a joke and played with by me in front of all those people… I must have felt incredibly powerful and smug in that moment. …Everyone in the room thought he was going to slam the door and storm out. But what did the Dominic of that time do? He walked right up to me, step by step. And then, with absolute, unbothered naturalness, he crouched down and took hold of my ankle. He gently slipped my discarded designer heel back onto my foot. He looked up, his strong brow bone softening like a gentle, ancient painting. “It’s getting cold out. Don’t catch a chill.” “Sera.” 7 Sera. He loved calling me that. But since we were reborn, he hadn’t called me that once. … I’m a very light sleeper, so I woke up the moment he walked through the front door. I lay perfectly still, curious to see what he would do when he thought I was asleep and defenseless. Nothing. He walked right past me. He didn’t even bother tossing a blanket over me. I sat up and threw the divorce papers directly at his back. The man paused. The lines of his broad back were distractingly attractive. “Don’t crumple them.” “If I have to print a new copy, you might not get as much in the settlement.” In the pale moonlight, I sat there watching him speak so calmly. A dark storm cloud seemed to hide in his pupils, mixing with an obscure, freezing indifference. “I’m not signing.” I stared at him fiercely. He seemed to expect this. He nodded. “Fine. We’ll go to court then.” “Dominic Sterling, you are a complete bastard.” I lunged at him, trying to grab him, but he overpowered me effortlessly. The moonlight curved softly into the room as he pinned me down on the sofa. His hand gripped my throat. It wasn’t gentle at all. I bit down hard on the webbing between his thumb and index finger, but he acted like he couldn’t feel the pain. Then, suddenly, he let go. A gentle touch brushed across my cheek. “So you know how to cry too.” He dropped that freezing, cryptic sentence. And left me alone in the living room. I pressed my hands hard against my eyes. As if doing that would stop the tears from spilling over. Don’t leave me behind. When I was ten years old, I made a silent vow. I swore I would never say those words out loud ever again. 8 I refused to sign the divorce papers. The very next day, Dominic pulled his investments from every single project I was involved in. The Sterling family owned a massive chunk of the medical and pharmaceutical industry, and he was a top-tier scholar in the field. I admit, in my past life, the only reason I married him was for the immense benefits and power he could provide. I knew he didn’t want me anymore. But when I found out he had transferred all those projects and collaborations directly to Mia… My heart still throbbed with a dull, sickening pain. But then I thought, this makes sense. In my past life, he saw the truth clearly. Mia was so pure and kind. She wasn’t like me. I was someone accustomed to using filthy, underhanded tactics to get what I wanted. However, him pulling his investments was basically sounding the alarm to the entire industry. Overnight, I was completely isolated and cut off from all my resources. … I prepared to try and butter Dominic up again. “Dominic, are you at the university right now?” “I made some lunch. Can I bring it over to you?” I didn’t dare hope he still had lingering feelings for me, but I desperately hoped he would remember our history and not completely destroy me. I stared at my silent phone screen, fully aware of how thick-skinned I was being. We had fought so viciously yesterday, but when my financial survival was on the line, I still had to swallow my pride and beg. I planned to cook him a nice meal and deliver it personally. Then I realized a massive problem. I had absolutely no idea what Dominic’s favorite foods were. Conversely, he probably knew exactly what I liked and hated, forward and backward. After all, in my past life, Professor Sterling’s absolute greatest obsession was feeding me all sorts of delicious food. I wasn’t actually a picky eater, but I loved throwing tantrums and acting spoiled around him. “Dominic, these noodles are way too hard.” “Dominic, who are these mushy noodles even for?” “Dominic, I don’t like spicy food.” “Dominic, since when do you cook everything so bland?” There was only one time I ever truly made him angry. His dark eyes locked onto me, his tone freezing and deadly serious. “Sera, do you honestly believe I’ll stand by your side forever, no matter what?” I looked down, admiring my manicure, and told him: “Then get out.” That was my answer. And he actually got out. It was below freezing outside, and he left without even putting on a coat. He must have been furious. Around dusk, I sent him a single text. “Dominic, I miss you.” Less than fifteen minutes later, the front door burst open. He pulled me into a fierce, desperate embrace, bringing the sharp, biting cold of the outdoors with him. He pressed his straight nose against the crook of my neck, and I heard him say: “Yes. I will stand by your side forever.” …See? For the old me, training Professor Sterling was literally easier than training a dog. … After slicing my finger open for the third time and staring at the bubbling, unidentifiable biohazard in the pot, I finally snapped out of my memories. I realized I was absolutely not a culinary genius. I immediately ordered takeout from The Sterling Pavilion, a high-end restaurant. And transferred the food into my own insulated lunchbox. Whatever… he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between home-cooked food and restaurant food anyway. …Probably.

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My childhood sweetheart lost his sight in a car crash. Out of the goodness of my heart, I donated one of my corneas to him. He, however, firmly believed I had orchestrated the accident. He was convinced my donation was just a manipulative ploy to force him into marriage and tear him away from his first love. He hated me for the rest of his life. Right before he died, he spat that he would rather be blind than ever have to look at my face again. When I opened my eyes next, I was back in the moment right before he sped off in his car to chase after his first love. I pretended I didn’t know a thing. In this life, I don’t ever want to look at his face again either. 1 In the dead of night, my mother yanked me out of bed. While pulling on her coat, she said grimly, “Get up, quickly. Your Aunt Sarah just called. Arthur was in a terrible car accident. We need to get to the hospital immediately.” My heart hammered in my chest. It wasn’t until we arrived at the hospital and I saw Arthur’s parents pacing frantically outside the operating room that reality finally set in. This wasn’t my life flashing before my eyes right before suicide. I had actually been reborn. My mother rushed over to ask for updates on Arthur’s condition. The adults were in an absolute panic. Ironically, I became the only person calm enough to speak with the doctor. “The family needs to prepare for the worst. The patient sustained severe facial trauma from a massive impact. Both corneas are completely detached. It’s highly likely he will be permanently blind.” Just like in my past life, Aunt Sarah nearly fainted upon hearing the news. I let out a silent sigh, my heart completely devoid of any emotion. I simply asked, “The corneas detached, but can the actual eyeballs be saved?” The doctor gave a noncommittal “We’ll do our best” before shoving a clipboard and pen into my hand. “What is your relation to the patient? Please sign this quickly.” The word wife almost slipped out, but I bit it back hard. I handed the pen to Arthur’s father, who was holding it together slightly better than his wife. “I’m just the neighbor. I don’t have the authority to sign.” In my past life, when I heard Arthur was going to be blind, my reaction was just as hysterical as Aunt Sarah’s. After all, he was the boy I had secretly loved for ten years. The thought of someone as vibrant and arrogant as Arthur never being able to see the world again broke my heart, so I volunteered to donate one of my corneas. Arthur regained his sight. After a few days of depression, he proposed to me right there in the hospital room. He held my arm and said, “Hazel, from now on, we will be each other’s light.” Ten years of unrequited love finally felt validated, but I still hesitated. “What about Chloe?” Arthur scoffed, pointing at his own eye. “If she hadn’t thrown a tantrum and broken up with me in the middle of the night, this never would have happened to me…” He sounded so resolute back then, but less than two years into our marriage, he completely changed. By chance, I saw his search history on an AI app. [How to detach someone’s corneas] [Help me design the perfect car accident] [Can someone who died of carbon monoxide poisoning still donate their corneas?] Seeing those queries felt like plunging straight into hell. I had given him one cornea out of decades of loyalty, yet he was plotting to take my other one. So, I sealed all the doors and windows in our apartment, lit charcoal briquettes, and shared a drink with Arthur for the first time since our wedding. When we were both buzzed, I asked him, “Do you regret marrying me?” The alcohol stripped away his filter. The look he gave me was like a physical blade. “If I didn’t marry you, how could I ever repay you for the magnificent car accident you so carefully orchestrated?” He pulled out my old diary from God-knows-where and slammed it violently onto the table. “Hazel Vance! You’ve been obsessed with me since we were kids. You couldn’t have me, so you staged that crash to blind me, didn’t you?!” “When I went blind, you used your cornea donation to blackmail me into marrying you.” “You destroyed my health, you destroyed my relationship with Chloe, and you thought you could force me to feel indebted to you for the rest of my life. You are absolutely vile! I would rather be blind forever than have to look at your face!” Every word he spat left me in utter shock. With red eyes, I desperately tried to explain it wasn’t me, but he slammed his hand on the table and interrogated me: “Then why else would you willingly become a disabled freak just to give me your cornea?! Don’t tell me you actually bought into that ‘childhood sweethearts’ garbage! We’re just neighbors! We don’t have that kind of deep connection!” I was completely stunned. So this was how Arthur had maliciously analyzed my actions all along. As the oxygen depleted and the carbon monoxide took over, my mind grew hazy. He and I both died in that room. It wasn’t a particularly painful death. 2 This time, I stood back with cold detachment as both families desperately searched for a donor cornea. I had absolutely no intention of getting tangled up in Arthur’s karma again. Aunt Sarah wept continuously, and my mother looked deeply troubled. “Sigh, Arthur’s a good kid. Why on earth would he be speeding in the middle of the night?” “What could possibly be so urgent that he’d risk his life? He was such a bright young man, and now…” A flash of pure hatred crossed Aunt Sarah’s face. “I checked Arthur’s phone. I found out he had secretly gotten a girlfriend named Chloe.” “That girl was throwing a fit. She told him that if he didn’t make it to the train station in ten minutes, she was leaving the city forever. Arthur panicked, and then…” I kept my eyes lowered and said nothing. Logically, this accident had absolutely nothing to do with me. Yet in my past life, Arthur managed to pin the blame entirely on my shoulders. Just as Aunt Sarah finished her sentence, a loud crash echoed from the hospital room. Before I could even react, Aunt Sarah and my mother sprinted inside. I followed them to take a look. Arthur had knocked his water glass off the nightstand and tumbled out of bed. He had violently ripped the bandages off his eyes and was currently reaching out, blindly grasping at the air, his eyes bloodshot and unseeing. “Arthur!” Aunt Sarah’s voice cracked with heartbreak. “Get up, the floor is freezing.” “You just woke up, you can’t thrash around like this! You have a fractured leg, be careful!” Arthur gripped Aunt Sarah’s hand like a drowning man clutching a lifeline. “Mom, what’s wrong with my eyes?” “Why can’t I see anything?! Why?!” Aunt Sarah’s heart broke for her son. She opened her mouth several times but couldn’t force the words out. She covered her mouth, sobbing silently, her shoulders shaking violently as she suppressed the sound. Unable to see where anyone was, Arthur looked around wildly, panic radiating from his blind eyes. Finally, my mother couldn’t bear it anymore. She pulled me forward to help lift him back onto the bed. “Hazel? Is that Hazel?” “Tell me, what happened to me…” I shot a complex look at Aunt Sarah. Receiving her subtle nod of permission, I said: “The car crash caused your corneas to detach. You are permanently blind.” Arthur froze, instantly blurting out, “Impossible.” I didn’t say another word. Aunt Sarah immediately stepped in to comfort him. “Don’t be scared. Your father and Mr. Vance are already looking for donor corneas.” “You’ll get your sight back soon.” Arthur, who had lived his entire life with arrogant, reckless freedom, was completely unequipped to handle this devastating blow. It took the attending doctor coming in on rounds to finally issue a stark warning: “You must take exceptional care of your eyes right now. If your condition deteriorates any further, even a donor cornea won’t be viable for transplant.” I smiled silently. If donor corneas were that easy to come by, Arthur wouldn’t have been plotting to steal my remaining one in our past life. But wasn’t this exactly what he wanted? In this life, at the very least, he would never have to look at my face again. 3 Arthur’s father exhausted every connection searching for a cornea but failed repeatedly. His hair turned white in a matter of days. Unable to accept the reality of his blindness, Arthur radiated a toxic, volatile anger. Within three days of his hospitalization, the stress caused Aunt Sarah’s blood pressure to spike so severely that she ended up admitted to the hospital herself. I actively avoided Arthur, which earned me a harsh lecture from my parents. “Hazel, our families have always been close. You have to step up and help out right now.” Unable to find a valid excuse, I finally went to see him. The moment I stepped into his room, Arthur turned his head toward the door. “Is that you, Hazel?” I was slightly surprised, but then heard him let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I recognized your footsteps.” “Why haven’t you come to visit me? Do I look like a monster now?” I sat down a safe distance from his bed and replied coolly, “I’ve been too busy lately. Couldn’t find the time.” The ten years of unrequited love had been thoroughly incinerated by the psychological torture of our marriage in my past life. In this life, I was finally thinking clearly. Arthur was right. We were just neighbors. He seemed to be waiting for me to comfort him. When I remained silent, he started blindly reaching around his bed for his phone. After struggling to find it, he thrust it toward the opposite side of the bed, speaking to empty air. “Check if Chloe has called me.” “I can’t even unlock my screen. She must be terrified that she hasn’t heard from me in days.” I sighed in exasperation. “I’m over here.” Arthur froze, a flash of humiliating defeat crossing his face. I took the phone and checked. Zero missed calls. I opened his texts. Their last conversation was from days ago. I glanced at him. Driven by a morbid curiosity to understand why he blamed me for his accident in my past life, I opened the chat log. “Arthur! My mom said if we’re getting married, the dowry has to be a shopping mall. This is non-negotiable.” “Your family is loaded, giving up two malls is nothing to you. If you’re not willing to show your commitment, we’re breaking up.” Arthur’s replies were incredibly subservient. “Let’s just talk this through, okay? I promise I’ll discuss it with my parents.” Chloe responded with a photo of a high-speed train ticket departing in thirty minutes. “Then come find me when you’ve discussed it with them.” Arthur begged her not to leave. Finally, she relented, but issued an ultimatum: he had exactly ten minutes to get to the station. Reading the texts, I couldn’t help but sneer in disgust. They got into a fight over a dowry extortion attempt, which had absolutely nothing to do with me. Yet in my past life, simply because I was kind enough to donate my cornea to him, he projected all his rage and resentment onto me? “Well? Did she text me?” Arthur asked anxiously. I shook my head and placed the phone on his lap. “No.” “Impossible!” He blindly fumbled with the phone, trying to hand it back to me. “Is it dead?” “Or maybe it broke in the crash, and it’s not receiving messages?” “Hazel, go buy me a new phone, please?” Watching his desperate panic, a spark of vindictive satisfaction flared in my chest. I spoke with deliberate, retaliatory cruelty: “Chloe hasn’t contacted you. Not a single time.” 4 From that day forward, Arthur made me check his unread messages every single day. As the days passed, his panic became palpable. “It’s been so long. Why isn’t she contacting me?” “Do you think something happened to her?” I just stared at him with zero expression. But then he suddenly demanded, “Call her for me.” The second the call connected, Arthur’s eyes widened with hope. It was the first time he had smiled in days. “Chloe…” The voice on the other end was icy. “Why are you calling me? I told you I’d only wait ten minutes, and you never showed.” “I figured that meant you agreed to break up. Stop bothering me.” Arthur frantically tried to explain, “I’m sorry, Chloe! Don’t hang up!” “I… I didn’t mean to be late, and I definitely don’t want to break up! It’s just… I got into a car accident. I’ve been in the hospital.” I stood up and walked out of the room, terrified that if she rejected him, he’d somehow find a way to blame me again. But witnessing his subservient, pathetic groveling made me finally realize: he truly did not love me. We grew up together, and I had never seen Arthur act this pathetic before. When Aunt Sarah arrived, I tracked down his attending physician. If the crash was so severe, why was the rest of his body only mildly bruised, while his eyes took the absolute worst of the impact? The doctor looked sympathetic but resigned. “When the paramedics found him, his face was covered in blood.” “It turns out he had glued raised, hard plastic bedazzled decorations onto the steering wheel logo. When the airbag deployed, it essentially launched those hard objects directly into his eyes.” “It’s a tragic shame…” I raised an eyebrow and walked back home, the puzzle finally pieced together. In my past life, my entire heart was devoted to Arthur. It wasn’t until the moments before my death, reviewing my life, that I realized how spectacularly I had ruined a winning hand. This time, I took two-thirds of my life savings and bought physical gold bars. My mother looked at me suspiciously. “Are you opening a jewelry store?” I smiled brightly and shook my head. “Just an investment for the future!” That night, my father came home looking miserable. He sighed heavily at the dinner table, his eyes constantly darting toward me. “There are simply no donor corneas available. I’m afraid Arthur might…” I met my father’s gaze steadily. “You did everything you could. Even if they never find one, his family won’t blame you.” Both my parents snapped their heads toward me, probing cautiously. “I’m just worried you won’t be able to handle it.” “We know you and Arthur have been incredibly close since childhood, and as you got older…” “If you’re absolutely determined to stay with him, your mother and I won’t oppose it.” Hearing the implication behind their words, I set down my chopsticks, my expression deadly serious. “Mom. Dad.” “I don’t like Arthur anymore.” “It’s not because he’s blind. It’s because he already has a girlfriend. He’s not the right person for me. We’re just casual friends. Neighbors.” “Please, never bring this up again.” My parents looked stunned for a moment, but quickly nodded in agreement. “Hazel, don’t worry. Whatever you choose, we support you 100%.”

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At 2:00 AM, my ex-boyfriend called and said he wanted to get back together. With red, tear-filled eyes, I agreed. But on the other end of the line, the room erupted into thunderous, mocking laughter. “I told you guys. This woman, Chloe, is so pathetic that all I have to do is crook my finger, and she’ll come crawling right back to me.” I didn’t get angry. I just asked him if what he said a second ago still counted. “Ethan, as long as you come back, you can do whatever you want to me…” Dead silence fell over the other end of the line. “Chloe! I’m Liam! What the hell are you talking about? Who the fuck is Ethan?!” 1 In the middle of the night, I was running a fever. Through my hazy, dizzy state, I heard my phone ring. I answered it. There was a lot of background noise and rowdy shouting. After a long moment, a man’s magnetic voice finally reached my ear. “Chloe, I miss you.” That familiar voice instantly brought tears to my eyes. For the past few months, I had only been able to fall asleep with the help of sleeping pills. Hearing his voice again, I couldn’t help but choke on a sob. “I miss you too.” Soon, the voice on the other end spoke again. “Chloe, let’s stop fighting. Let’s get back together.” His voice was like aged, rich red wine, instantly intoxicating me. My feverish body broke out in a sweat, soaking through my pajamas. My long fingernails dug into the edge of my phone case. Barely able to suppress my crying, I eagerly nodded and agreed. But immediately after, the other end of the line erupted in roaring laughter. “Liam is the absolute man! Two words and he gets his ex-girlfriend kneeling and begging like a dog!” “Does anyone actually fall for the ‘2 AM let’s get back together’ routine? Liam, where did you find this freak? When you guys were together, she served you like you were royalty. It’s been three months since you dumped her, and she’s still obsessed with you.” “That’s just the irresistible charm of our guy Liam. When they were dating, he’d tell her to get lost, and she’d roll over like an obedient puppy.” “One time Liam was out on a date with another girl, and with one phone call, Chloe literally drove over to deliver him condoms.” “How can someone be that pathetic?” “Like I said, Liam’s charm is unmatched. I’ll take the penalty drink for this round.” The phone line was filled with their unbridled, cruel mockery. Finally, Liam’s voice sounded again: “I told you all. Chloe is completely pathetic. All I have to do is crook my finger, and she’ll come crawling right back, begging for attention.” Liam’s voice was still deep and magnetic, but now it was laced with smug arrogance. Then, he addressed me: “Chloe, we’re playing Truth or Dare. Thanks for taking the penalty for me.” His tone was completely dismissive. He was ready to hang up. But I didn’t want to miss this incredibly rare opportunity. I hurriedly asked: “Did you mean what you said just now?” The other end froze. Even the background music seemed to lower in volume. “Chloe, are you mentally ill? Did you honestly think I called you at 2 AM because I actually wanted to get back together?” Liam cursed at me. I ignored it, insisting: “You said it, and I agreed.” Saying that, I couldn’t hold back my cries anymore. My voice filled with desperation as I lowered myself to the absolute dust: “Ethan… as long as you come back, you can do whatever you want to me…” No response. For a long, long time, it was dead silent. And then, came Liam’s furious, explosive roar: “Chloe! You better explain yourself right now! Who the fuck is Ethan?!” 2 Ethan. That name accompanied me through my entire youth. In a daze, I was transported back to the summer I was sixteen, the first time I ever saw him. Those were the darkest days of my life. My grandmother, the only person I had left in the world, had passed away. I became an unleashed, rabid dog, completely letting myself rot in the mud. After getting caught in yet another violent fight, my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Davis, gave me an ultimatum. If my parents didn’t show up, she was going to report me to the school board and have me expelled. I didn’t care. I leaned lazily against the wall and said dismissively, “My dad’s in Canada, my mom’s in Mexico. Neither of them can be reached. How about I summon my dead grandma’s ghost for you instead?” “Chloe!” Mrs. Davis was so furious with my attitude that she grabbed my arm, fully intending to drag me to the office to process my expulsion. That was exactly when Ethan appeared. He rushed into the hallway and stood protectively in front of me. His very first words were: “I apologize for being late. I am Chloe’s older brother.” Brother? I froze. Mrs. Davis froze too. Mrs. Davis froze because the man standing in front of her radiated a clean, sharp, and intimidating aura. Standing next to my frizzy, dyed hair and heavy, cheap makeup, we looked like we belonged in entirely different universes. I froze because I never knew my parents had a secret love child who was this old. So, I was immediately hostile toward him. “Bullshit! I don’t have a damn brother!” I started screaming and charged at him to push him away. But Ethan, who looked lean and intellectual, effortlessly restrained me with just one hand. At the same time, he calmly and politely apologized to Mrs. Davis. He promised her that from now on, he would keep me on a very tight leash. Thanks to his earnest pleading, Mrs. Davis decided to give me one last chance. Ethan physically dragged me all the way home. On the way, he shoved me into a hair salon. He had them chop off my messy, dyed hair and scrub off my heavy makeup. The mirror revealed my natural, original face. He stared at me for a moment, then smiled and ruffled my hair: “This looks so much better for a student.” I didn’t dodge. Taking advantage of the proximity, I lunged and bit down hard on the webbing of his hand. I didn’t succeed. Instead, he pinched my chin. “Tsk, such a fierce little girl?” “Get lost! I’m calling the cops! You’re a kidnapper!” I yelled at him, my words muffled. Even though Ethan was incredibly handsome, it didn’t stop me from hating him. Especially when he smiled—it was so bright it physically stung my eyes. I cursed, kicked, and fought. Ethan didn’t get angry. He let me throw my tantrum until I finally ran out of energy. Only then did he slowly explain: “I’m not a kidnapper. Your parents entrusted me to take care of you.” “Bullshit! They don’t give a damn about me! If they did, why didn’t they even show up when Grandma died?!” I tried to act like I didn’t care, but as I screamed at him, my voice broke. I glared at him with red, tear-filled eyes. My cheeks felt itchy, and then wet… Ethan fell silent. He let go of my chin. After a long pause, he promised me: “Once you get into college, they’ll come back.” I thought about it for a second, then replied: “In their dreams.” 3 Whether I agreed or not didn’t matter. Ethan aggressively moved into my apartment. I tried calling the cops on him once, but Ethan somehow produced a legally binding guardianship document, physically signed by my parents. It left me completely speechless. I gave up. I decided to treat him like he was invisible. It was a two-bedroom apartment. I had one room, and Grandma used to have the other. Now he lived in Grandma’s room. He actually started preparing three meals a day and taking over all the household chores. A free maid? Why not. Once I rationalized it, I accepted his presence without any guilt. But one thing was incredibly annoying. He demanded I come home immediately after school every day. No matter which shady internet cafe I hid in, he would always track me down and drag me out. As soon as I got home, he checked my homework. When I said I didn’t understand it, he actually sat right next to me and tutored me. Whatever I didn’t know, he knew how to teach. “Ethan, tell me the truth…” After being dragged home from an arcade yet again, I couldn’t help but ask: “Are you part of some secret reality show where you get a million dollars if you get me into college? Or is this the cure to a terminal illness you have?” Ethan flicked me hard on the forehead. “Going to college is for your own future.” “What’s the point of college?” I rubbed my forehead and complained: “It’s not like I actually want them to come back…” “Do you really not want them to come back?” Ethan cut me off. He looked at me, his tone dead serious: “Don’t you want to prove to them that even when you’re entirely on your own, you can still become something amazing?” My fingers curled inward. My heart swelled in my chest. He had a tiny tear mole at the corner of his eye. I looked into his eyes, and it felt like they held an entire galaxy. They were so, so bright… 4 Midterm exams. I went from being the second-worst student in my grade to the top fifty. When the grades were posted, no one could believe it. I was ecstatic. All I could think about was how I was going to tell Ethan the good news that night. I planned to lie to him, tell him I was still second-to-last, and use it to extort a massive plate of his homemade BBQ ribs to comfort me. Ethan’s BBQ ribs were genuinely incredible. I was happily plotting my deception, but before the school day even ended, Mrs. Davis called me into the office… She suspected me of cheating and threatened to void my scores. That night, I went straight to a club. 5 Ethan was the one who bailed me out of the police precinct. According to the officers… They raided the club and rounded up a bunch of underage drinkers. I was the most obvious one—wearing a high school uniform, completely wasted, grinding on the dance floor with a bunch of shady guys, having the time of my life. Ethan’s face was completely black. I saw him speaking quietly with the officers, then signing a document before walking over to lead me out of the precinct. Honestly, I hadn’t drank that much. Plus, standing in the freezing, drafty hallway of the police station had sobered me up considerably. The entire ride home, Ethan didn’t say a single word to me. Seeing his stone-cold face ignited my own temper. I stubbornly marched toward my bedroom door, but he stopped me: “Hold it! Do you not have anything to say for yourself?” That single command triggered every rebellious bone in my body. “I don’t need you to manage me! You aren’t my dad, and you aren’t my mom! Do you really think a piece of paper gives you the right to control my life?!” Ethan strode toward me. Even though he was lean, when his face went cold, his aura was absolutely terrifying. He stopped right in front of me. He was a full head taller than me. Looking down at me, his face was like ice, and his voice was harsher than it had ever been: “Do you have any idea how disappointed your parents would be if they saw you like this?!” Hearing that, I violently hurled my backpack at him and screamed hysterically: “How disappointed could they possibly be?! The grass on their graves is probably taller than me by now! They don’t know shit!” I watched Ethan’s icy facade shatter into a million pieces. The atmosphere stagnated for a long, agonizing moment before his low voice finally broke the silence: “Since when did you know?” I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. The adrenaline and alcohol surged back to my head, making my entire body burn. Biting my lip, I stared directly into his eyes and enunciated every single word: “Don’t treat me like a child. I understand everything. I know my parents are dead! You hid it from me, Grandma hid it from me… I know a lot of things. I know they were undercover cops. And I know you’re a cop too!” 6 My head was spinning. The memories of the past flooded my brain like a tidal wave, making my already throbbing head feel like it was going to split open. Through the phone, Liam was still demanding an answer. I snapped back to reality and replied purely on instinct: “Where are you? I want… I want to see you right now.” I missed him so much. I truly, desperately wanted to see him right now. The other end went silent. I could hear the mocking, teasing voices in the background. Some said I was shameless, others said I was playing hard to get, and some laughed, asking if Liam was getting anxious. Finally, Liam texted me an address. I didn’t even bother getting dressed up. I rushed out the door. When I arrived at the bar, Liam’s group hadn’t left. Seeing my pale, sickly face, Liam, who was sitting in the center of the booth, froze for a second. “Chloe, it’s only been a few months. Do you… look like you’re about to drop dead?” I didn’t care. I ignored the sneering, judgmental stares of everyone in the room and walked straight up to him. But as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and I got a clear look at Liam’s face, a surge of indescribable fury exploded in my chest. “Where is your tear mole?” I reached out, grabbed his chin, and frantically inspected his face. It had only been a few months. Liam’s face was different. The corner of his eye, the bridge of his nose… but most importantly, the tear mole at the corner of his eye—the exact same mole Ethan had—was gone. He didn’t look like Ethan anymore! Annoyed by my grabbing, Liam shoved me away roughly, his tone impatient: “That mole was ugly as hell. I’ve been wanting to get it lasered off for a long time. I look way better now.” He touched his own face, smiling confidently. But I suddenly lunged at him like a maniac, tearing at his clothes. “Who gave you permission to remove it?! You don’t look anything like him anymore!” I had searched so hard and finally found an existence so similar to him, and now Liam had ruined it! I projected all my rage onto the man in front of me. I stood up to leave, but my arm was grabbed violently. “What the hell do you mean? Like who? This ‘Ethan’ guy? Chloe! You better explain right now, who the fuck is Ethan?!” Liam finally remembered his earlier question, his voice sharp with interrogation. Someone tried to break it up. “Liam, calm down. Chloe is definitely just playing mind games…” “Yeah, this guy definitely doesn’t even exist.” Hearing this, Liam’s expression relaxed slightly. The way he looked at me grew even more contemptuous. He said: “If you want to get back together, show some sincerity. Don’t just make up some random name, using a nonexistent ghost to try and play me…” Liam didn’t get to finish his sentence. I slapped him across the face as hard as I physically could. With one hundred percent of my strength. “Who are you calling nonexistent?! Ethan isn’t dead! HE ISN’T!” “Chloe, have you lost your fucking mind?! Are you crazy?!”

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On the day I was officially recognized by my biological family, I reclaimed my room from the fake heiress, tore her favorite dress to shreds, and called her a “country bumpkin” who could never truly belong in high society. The fake heiress, Chloe, screamed like a banshee, “Mia! You bitch!” Before I could even respond, my father delivered a resounding slap across her face. “Chloe! When will you learn to be as sensible and well-behaved as Mia? You are a profound disappointment!” My mother looked at her with pure ice in her eyes. “What an ungrateful little wretch.” Looking down at Chloe crumpled on the floor, the corners of my mouth curled into a smile. “Chloe, this time around, it’s your turn to taste what it feels like to be abandoned by everyone you love.” 1. When my mother finally regained consciousness, I was sitting quietly in the hospital chair next to her bed, diligently working on some math problems. Seeing her eyes open, I immediately stood up, my voice full of concern. “Ma’am, you’re awake! Are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?” My mother offered a weak, pale smile. “Such a good girl. Thank you for everything.” She had fainted from a sudden drop in blood sugar on the street, and I had been the one to rush her to the hospital. Looking at the gentle, smiling woman in front of me… I couldn’t help but remember the look of utter disgust on her face in my past life as she screamed at me: “How could I have given birth to such an ignorant, classless daughter! If I had known, I would have just let the mistake remain a mistake!” Yes, the elegant socialite lying in the hospital bed was my biological mother. Only, she didn’t know it yet. I am the true heiress of the Sterling family, switched at birth. In my past life, I returned to the Sterling family with a heart full of desperate hope and joy, only to be met with cold stares and deep dissatisfaction from everyone. My father took one look at me, his brow furrowed in distaste. “Teach her some manners,” he ordered the staff, before immediately leaving for the office. My mother was polite but incredibly distant. “If you need anything, just tell Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper.” From the very beginning, their eyes only held affection for Chloe. And Chloe? She stood there wearing a limited-edition designer knit dress and custom Mary Janes, making her displeasure blatantly obvious. My mother even stroked her hair to comfort her. I pushed the cold memory away and poured a glass of warm water for the woman in the bed. My mother looked at me with overwhelming gratitude. Heh. How hilarious. In my past life, I spent every single day cooking and making elaborate soups, desperately trying to win my parents’ approval, and I never even got a smile in return. Now, a simple glass of water had my mother looking at me like I was a saint. I guess being their actual daughter was just a curse. Hearing my mother call the family chauffeur, I politely stood up to say goodbye. It was too early for me to meet anyone else from the Sterling family. My mother insisted on rewarding me, but I repeatedly declined. I only relented enough to leave her my contact information. Of course, the whole incident today was orchestrated. I “coincidentally” walked past her and “coincidentally” saved her life. In my past life, I remembered the housekeeper mentioning a time when my mother had a severe hypoglycemic episode on the street. It was a highly dangerous situation, but she was saved by a passing college student. That student eventually became my mother’s godson and was fast-tracked into an executive position at the Sterling Corporation. That godson’s name was Liam Vance, and he was also one of Chloe’s most devoted orbiters. In my past life, he had helped Chloe frame and torment me countless times. This time, I calculated the exact timing and stole his golden opportunity. Let’s see if he ever manages to set foot in the Sterling household now. 2. That evening, I returned to the home of my adoptive parents. My adoptive father, Arthur, was blackout drunk. The moment he saw me, he started screaming curses: “You worthless little money-pit! All you do all day is run around trying to seduce men! I’ll beat the life out of you!” My adoptive mother gave a half-hearted, token protest. “Alright, alright. You come home and throw a drunken tantrum every single day.” With that, she immediately ordered me to go wash the dishes. I obediently walked toward the kitchen, but Arthur wasn’t done. “You little bitch! Who told you to walk away?! You don’t even listen to your own father anymore?! Do you think you’re special?!” He whipped off his leather belt and started lashing it across my back. I didn’t dodge. I took every single brutal strike without making a sound. Let him hit me. If I didn’t have these welts and bruises, how was I going to play the sympathy card with my biological mother? Seeing that I wasn’t fighting back, Arthur got bored. He muttered “jinx” under his breath and stumbled back to his room to pass out. The next day, my biological mother arranged to meet me. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and deliberately wore a faded, patched-up shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans. My facial features were strikingly similar to my mother’s—we both had bold, striking, and glamorous looks. Even though I was dressed in rags, it couldn’t hide my natural beauty. My mother was delighted to see me. She handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box. Inside was an exquisite, clearly expensive brooch. I pressed my lips together tightly. “Mrs. Sterling, you really shouldn’t have spent money on this. I… I have no use for something like this.” My mother finally took a close look at me, noticing my worn, patched clothing. A look of uncontrollable pity flooded her eyes. “It was very thoughtless of me. Let me take you to buy some clothes, okay?” I continued to refuse, working hard to project the image of a strong, resilient, but pure-hearted ‘white flower’. “Mrs. Sterling, I only did what anyone should do. You really don’t have to do this. If you really want to thank me, could you… could you buy me a set of advanced math workbooks instead?” Looking into my timid, careful eyes, my mother’s heart completely melted. She immediately ordered her driver to take us to the largest bookstore in the city. In the car, my mother accidentally brushed against my arm. I sharply sucked in a breath of air. “Hiss.” When my mother looked at me in alarm, I quickly pulled my arm away and hid it behind my back. Her face filled with suspicion. Ignoring my protests, she gently pulled my arm forward and rolled up the sleeve. When she saw the angry red welts and deep purple bruises crisscrossing my pale skin, she almost gasped out loud. “Mia, who did this to you? Is someone bullying you at school?!” I lowered my head, acting terrified to speak. “Have you told your parents? Is the school doing anything about this? I’m calling your principal right now!” I hurriedly grabbed her hand to stop her. “No, Mrs. Sterling! No one at school is bullying me. I promise.” My mother hesitated for a moment. “Was it your parents?” I bit my lip hard and gave a slow, barely perceptible nod. My mother looked absolutely horrified. “How could anyone treat their own biological daughter like this?” Watching her dramatic reaction, I sneered internally. Yeah, I wanted to ask the exact same question. How could anyone treat their biological daughter like that? In my past life, neither of my biological parents ever bothered to ask about the life I had lived before returning to them. Of course, they didn’t actually want to know. Even when I came home covered in scars, they pretended they were blind. And now? Seeing her express such profound concern made me feel nothing but absolute disgust. My mother insisted on taking me to a private clinic to get my injuries treated and bandaged. On the way there, her phone rang. Judging by her tone, it was definitely Chloe. “Didn’t you just buy a dozen designer bags last week? Why do you need another one so soon?” “Buy it, buy it. My daughter is being so sweet, how can I say no?” “The dessert shop on Lakeview Street? Okay, Mom will pick some up for you in a bit.” My mother hung up the phone, her face glowing with unconditional adoration. She even laughed and complained to me, “My daughter is an absolute menace. If only she could be as sensible and mature as you are.” I lowered my eyes and offered a small, self-deprecating smile. “I wish I had a mother like you.” Seeing the deep sense of loss on my pale face, my mother’s heart took a massive, painful hit. To cheer me up, she stopped at that same dessert shop and bought me the exact same pastries she got for Chloe. As soon as the Sterling family’s Maybach pulled away, my expression instantly reverted to total apathy. I casually tossed the expensive desserts straight into the nearest trash can. 3. On Monday, I was back in class. I overheard the teachers mentioning that several executives from local corporations would be touring the campus later that week. My mind started working immediately. I attended the most prestigious academic high school in the city. If my guess was correct, the Sterling Group would definitely be part of that delegation. I thought about it for a minute, then headed straight to the faculty office. Throughout the week, my mother frequently messaged me on WeChat, checking in on me, and had her driver randomly drop off expensive meals for me. I flawlessly maintained my persona: the fragile, resilient, tragically misunderstood girl. So incredibly sensible and mature that it broke your heart. The new week arrived, and the corporate delegation arrived on campus for their inspection tour. As Mr. Sterling and his entourage were guided past the main athletic field, my voice echoed clearly over the PA system: “Hello everyone, I am Mia, from the AP Junior Class…” The clear, confident voice of a young girl instantly drew the attention of the crowd. I stood at the podium, dressed in a spotless uniform, my hair pulled into a crisp high ponytail, sharing my academic strategies as the top-ranked student in the entire grade. The principal proactively introduced me to the delegation. “This is our valedictorian, Mia. She is a constant presence at national academic competitions. She is an exceptionally brilliant student with an incredibly bright future.” My father, who had naturally already heard about my heroic rescue of his wife, recognized my name immediately. Hearing the principal’s high praise, he nodded in strong approval. “We have that major charity initiative launching next week, and we need a few outstanding student volunteers as ambassadors. I think this Mia would be perfect for the role.” The principal readily agreed. It was a massive PR win for the school. When my homeroom teacher brought it up with me, I accepted enthusiastically. A few days later, I arrived at the designated location alongside several other top students. The charity initiative was focused on supporting underprivileged children, and the corporate coalition was funding the construction of a new school in a rural area. My father and several other powerful executives arrived shortly after. Wearing a bright red volunteer vest, I flashed a brilliant, sweet smile as I distributed supplies to the children. During the media interviews, I was poised, articulate, and completely unflappable. Even the principal nodded continuously, visibly astounded by my performance. When the news aired that evening, fueled by my striking looks and eloquent speech, the hashtag “#MostBeautifulVolunteer” skyrocketed to the top of the trending charts. The Sterling Group and the other corporations involved happily fanned the flames, injecting money to boost the algorithm. I leveraged the moment and created my own public social media accounts. Knowing that overexposure could backfire, I kept my content strictly focused on sharing high-level study tips and academic advice. When my mother heard about all this, she was utterly amazed. “Mia, you are so incredible! What kind of reward can Auntie give you for doing so well?” I smiled demurely, once again refusing any material gifts. “Mrs. Sterling, I really just enjoy your company. If you have time in the future, just coming to visit me is the best reward I could ask for.” Hearing my thoughtful, emotionally intelligent response, my mother was deeply moved. She pulled me into a hug, looking down as she pondered something. “Mia, Auntie knows you don’t care about material things. But what about the elite summer academic camp at Princeton? Would you want to go?” I smiled internally. Hook, line, and sinker. After all, once I officially returned to the Sterling family, I would have unlimited access to designer clothes and jewelry. Right now, utilizing their resources to elevate my own status and resume was the much smarter play. I immediately put on a mask of pure, absolute shock. “Really? Mrs. Sterling, is that really possible?!” Seeing the stars shining in my eyes, my mother couldn’t resist gently tapping my nose. “Of course it is! You are so incredibly driven; Auntie absolutely supports you.” I gasped in delight. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Sterling!” Soon enough, I attended the elite summer camp exactly as planned. I networked with some incredibly brilliant people and made a few very useful connections. On the day I returned, as I stepped off the chartered bus, a girl named Sarah called out to me. “Mia! Don’t forget to message me on WeChat when you get home!” I smiled and nodded, watching her skip happily away. But before I could even turn my head, I saw Sarah running directly toward someone. Chloe. Sarah and Chloe both attended the city’s most elite private prep school. It wasn’t surprising that they knew each other. Chloe was dressed in an expensive, preppy designer set. Her meticulous, full-face makeup made her stand out sharply among the crowd of tired students. The corners of my mouth slowly curled upward. Even if I was an exceptionally brilliant student, that wasn’t nearly enough to shake Chloe’s unassailable position in my parents’ hearts. But what if Chloe repeatedly, spectacularly disappointed them? I remembered something very specific. In my past life, Chloe and her little clique of mean girls relentlessly bullied a girl at their prep school for over a year. That girl was incredibly stubborn and nearly attempted suicide over it. Ultimately, Liam Vance stepped in and used his connections to make the problem quietly disappear for Chloe. But what if Liam Vance wasn’t there this time? Would Chloe still be so lucky? 4. I just didn’t expect my first face-to-face encounter with Chloe to happen so soon. That weekend, my mother invited me out. I assumed it would just be the two of us, like usual. Until Chloe stepped out of the luxury SUV. “Mia, I’ve been meaning to introduce you two! Chloe insisted on tagging along today, so I figured it was a great chance for you girls to get to know each other.” Chloe was wearing a black and white tweed Chanel suit, stepping out of the car with an aura of bored entitlement. One look, and you knew she was a stereotypical, spoiled rich girl. She frowned, looking me up and down. The disdain and intense defensive hostility in her eyes were glaringly obvious. “Mom, is this the Mia you never shut up about?” Chloe asked, deliberately clinging tightly to my mother’s arm. “Yes, this is Mia,” my mother said, looking at me with immense satisfaction. Chloe let out a mocking, playful smirk. “She definitely looks like she came from the country.” “Chloe! Watch your mouth! Where are your manners?!” My mother’s smile instantly vanished. She glared at Chloe, then turned to me, desperately trying to apologize. “Mia, please don’t take it to heart. Chloe doesn’t mean any harm. I’ve just spoiled her completely rotten.” I bit my lip hard, my eyes filling with a profound, lonely sadness. “It’s okay, Mrs. Sterling. Chloe is so incredibly lucky to have a mother as wonderful as you.” “Tsk. So fake,” Chloe sneered. Hearing Chloe’s cruel remark, my head dropped even lower, the corners of my mouth turning down in absolute defeat. This time, my mother was genuinely furious. “Chloe, your allowance is cut off for the rest of the week! Get back in the car and go home. Right now.” “Mom! You’re punishing me over this country bumpkin?! Are you my mother or hers?!” Chloe screamed, shot me a venomous, hateful glare, turned around, and stormed away. My mother apologized to me profusely, over and over. I played the understanding, mature friend, offering her gentle comfort. Seeing that she was in a terrible mood, I suggested we go to an art exhibition nearby. My mother immediately agreed. Upon entering the gallery, my mother was instantly captivated by a painting displayed prominently in the center of the hall. It was an abstract piece depicting a gentle, elegant woman looking down at an infant in her arms with profound, unconditional love. Even though the style was abstract, upon closer inspection, the woman in the painting bore a striking resemblance to my mother. “What is this?” my mother asked, astonished. “Mrs. Sterling, this is a gift from the young lady beside you,” the gallery attendant explained smoothly. “Mia, you did this?” I offered a sweet, innocent smile. “Mrs. Sterling, you’ve taken such incredible care of me, and I have nothing of value to offer you in return. I’ve been working part-time at this gallery, and I painted this myself. It’s for you. I hope you like it.” My mother looked absolutely astounded, moved entirely beyond words. In high society, they lack absolutely nothing material. What they value most is “genuine sincerity.” After this incident, my status in my mother’s heart skyrocketed. She became even more dedicated to me. She visited me every weekend, or whenever she had a spare moment. When she discovered my natural talent for art, she personally hired a renowned master painter to give me private tutoring. I comfortably, unapologetically absorbed every single benefit and resource my mother provided. Are you kidding? All of this belonged to me in the first place. I accepted it all without a shred of guilt. Meanwhile, I began communicating much more frequently with Sarah. Through her, I confirmed that Chloe was, exactly as in my past life, actively bullying other students at her prep school. I smirked. Well then, it’s time to send her a spectacular gift.

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In my past life, my twin sister was adopted by a wealthy family, while I was taken home to be a child bride. Later, my sister jumped from a high-rise building, while I bloomed from the darkness. My sister smiled and said: “Sister, if it were you, you wouldn’t have let your life become such a mess, right?” Reborn into a new life, my sister and I switched fates. I am the dazzling sun shining in the day, and my sister is the evil spirit crawling in the dark night. We never looked back, taking turns moving forward. 01 I was reborn to the day my sister was adopted when we were five years old. This time, my clever and lively sister acted completely devoid of manners, even shouting that she was going to be a rich person, causing Mrs. Sterling to frown and choose me, who was quiet and steady. My sister and I exchanged a glance, and I saw the sly smile in her eyes. I knew my sister had also been reborn. My sister and I are fraternal twins. In our previous life, my sister was chosen by the Sterling family, a wealthy family in New York. When she left, she looked at me with wide eyes and said, “Sister, I will come back for you.” But I never saw my sister again. I was adopted by an ordinary family because their son was intellectually disabled, and they wanted to raise me to marry him when I grew up. I grew up amidst beatings and curses. I studied desperately, telling them that I had a great future and would bring them more benefits. Through bullying and humiliation, I got into a top university and later passed the civil service exam. My sister, who had entered the wealthy family, became notorious and jumped from a high-rise building. Before she died, my sister sent me a message: “I’m so unwilling to accept this. If you had been adopted by the Sterling family, sister, you wouldn’t have ended up like this.” Two minutes later, there was an extra five million dollars in my bank account. That was the inheritance my sister left me. Unfortunately, before I could enjoy the inheritance my sister left me, I was stabbed to death a few days later by my adoptive parents’ intellectually disabled son who suddenly rushed out. When I regained consciousness, I was back to when I was five years old. 02 I went to the Sterling family, changed my name to Ava Sterling, had my own room, parents, and a brother named Liam Sterling. The first day I ate at the Sterling family, I accidentally broke a bowl. I was already mentally prepared to be beaten. The expected beating and scolding didn’t come. Instead, I received concern, asking if I had cut my hand. For the first time, I learned that breaking a bowl doesn’t mean getting beaten. The new home had everything. Dad was rarely home, and Mom didn’t pay much attention to me. The servants did the chores, and a nanny played with me and Liam. If my sister’s death hadn’t reminded me, I almost would have drowned in this luxurious happiness. Liam was in poor health. A fortune teller told Mr. and Mrs. Sterling to adopt a girl from the orphanage to be his sister, and his health would improve and everything would go smoothly. So that was the reason the Sterling family adopted an orphan. Liam spoke little and seemed a bit gloomy. I wasn’t an extrovert either, so we weren’t close. Strictly speaking, I was like an outsider living in the Sterling family, but I enjoyed the best of everything, and I was very grateful. By the time we were in middle school, Liam’s health had improved greatly, and his personality had also changed a bit. We were in the same school but acted like strangers. No one knew our relationship. I lacked nothing, but I had no money. I ate and lived at home, and I hadn’t found a chance to go back to the small town to see my sister. It wasn’t until high school that I realized the malice I encountered in this life was different from the malice I experienced in the town in my previous life. The malice in middle school and high school were also different. The malice I encountered in this life was more arrogant, opaque, like madness surging under a dark current. The similarity was that both were deadly. But, I finally had a chance to go see my sister. 03 “Don’t think that just because you have good grades, Liam will like you. How could a nerd like you ever get his affection?” “Who are you putting on this aloof act for? Everyone knows you’re secretly hooking up with Liam! Slut!” A few girls cornered me in the restroom, pulling my hair, warning me not to have any more interactions with Liam. I pulled my hair back and stated calmly: “Liam is my brother. We live under the same roof.” They were stunned. Although my last name was also Sterling, Liam and I didn’t look like siblings at all. I continued: “Since I was little, my grades have always been good. My parents love me very much. I don’t want to be gossiped about; I just want to study hard, so I pretend not to know my brother at school.” “My brother doesn’t like people who bully others, and my parents like it even less. If you don’t believe me, you can check for yourselves.” I walked out of the girls’ restroom unharmed. However, during the lunch break that day, I was called over by one of Liam’s lackeys. Liam asked me impatiently: “Why did you tell others about our relationship?” “Because your presence makes people bully me. Your admirers think I like you.” A playful light flashed in Liam’s eyes, and his expression was slightly mocking, as if saying, Don’t you like me? I looked straight into Liam’s eyes and said lightly: “I also don’t want the person I like to misunderstand.” Liam’s expression changed slightly, then he chuckled: “The person you like? Who?” I looked serious and said firmly: “Ethan.” Liam’s face grew even uglier, and at that moment, a low laugh suddenly came from behind. “What does Ava like about me? I’m truly flattered.” 04 Ethan was Liam’s good friend, and in my previous life, he was also my sister’s closest companion. When I was ostracized and isolated in school, Ethan appeared by my side like the warm spring sun and the gentle summer evening breeze. Then I understood why my sister was desperate enough to jump off a building in the end. My sister was lively, straightforward, and easy to connect with, which in other words meant she was easier to deceive. When my sister died, her identity was that of a mistress kept by Ethan. The day before she jumped was the exact day Ethan got married. They said my sister was never content. After entering the Sterling family, she was too ambitious. She tried her best to please Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, and later she was even bold enough to try and hook up with the young master of the Sterling family. After being thrown out of the room by him, the Sterling family was utterly disgusted with her. Yet she still dreamed of marrying into a wealthy family, so she climbed into the bed of Liam’s childhood friend, Ethan. She was with Ethan for three years, originally thinking she could become his official girlfriend. Unfortunately, her dream of joining a wealthy family shattered again, so unable to bear the shock, she jumped off a building. Those who play with genuine feelings must be prepared to be played by others one day. Liam’s angry voice brought me back to my senses. “How old are you? Do you even know what liking someone means? Focus on your studies! If you dare date early, I’ll break your legs.” “Liam is so domineering, don’t scare our little Ava.” I sneaked a peek at Ethan and blushed. Liam walked away with a sour face. After I made my relationship with Liam public, Liam didn’t deny it. The malice and exclusion that surrounded me seemed to vanish. 05 In high school, with living expenses, living in the dorms, and having some freedom, I took a day off to find my sister. I found her in an alley near the county high school. She was holding an iron rod, had blood on her face, and her foot was stepping on a boy’s back. She looked like a complete delinquent. Next to her squatted two other boys holding their heads. “Looking very impressive, Chloe.” Hearing my voice, my sister froze for a moment, then turned around, glared at me, and cursed viciously: “Where did this nosy person come from? Get lost!” I stood there without speaking. My sister kicked the boy under her foot, told them to scram, then sat on the ground, pulled out a cigarette, and put it in her mouth. She said sarcastically: “Oh, isn’t this my sister who entered a wealthy family? What made you think of your poor sister?” “Are you here to give me money? Hand it over then!” I looked at the three guys leaving and couldn’t help clenching my fists. Those three were the ones who bullied me in high school. In middle school, girls with slightly more developed chests were called “cows,” and those who were a bit chubby were called “tanks.” That shameful nickname, “cow,” was given to me by those guys and stayed with me throughout high school. Seeing me stay silent, my sister glared at me impatiently. “Can’t you understand human language? If you don’t have money, get lost!” I walked over, took the cigarette from her mouth, and threw it away. I then took out the living expenses I had saved up in my pocket, kept a little for myself, and gave the rest to her. My sister quickly took the money. “At least you have a conscience. Come see me more often, but don’t come if you don’t bring money!” Instead, I lunged forward and hugged my sister tightly. I asked her in a low voice: “Are you in high school? Don’t you want to be a star?” “Go take the art exams. Study hard in high school. The academic requirements aren’t that high. Whatever you want to learn, I have money, I’ll give it to you.” I felt my sister’s body stiffen, then she whispered back: “I’m in school. The idiot died, so the family can only rely on me now. If they didn’t let me go to school, I would have caused a huge scene.” “What to learn? I’ve learned everything. With my looks, I’ll definitely be a shining big star.” The idiot died? I looked at my sister in disbelief. She casually flipped her hair: “Died in an accident.” 06 “Alright, you’ve given me the money, now leave quickly. Don’t bother me!” My sister suddenly pushed me away, looking impatient. I wanted to ask her about her past life, but she had already walked away swinging the iron rod. And behind me, a cold voice suddenly sounded. It was Liam! “You went through all this trouble just to see a piece of trash like that?” I turned around, feeling cold all over. Liam was actually stalking me! I showed an embarrassed expression and lowered my head: “She is my sister.” “Your sister just treats you like a free ATM. Ava, are you really that useless? You gave her your own living expenses?” Liam said arrogantly: “Today is only Tuesday. Don’t expect me to help you out.” Me: “I’m dieting.” Liam looked at me, seemingly amused by his anger. I turned around and walked outside to wait for the bus back to school. Liam stood next to me, and I couldn’t help but ask: “Brother, are you worried about me?” Liam snorted coldly: “I just came to see if you were doing anything behind my back to wrong the Sterling family. You eat our food, live in our house. If you dare to embarrass us, I won’t let you off easily.” I looked up at him with a sincere smile: “Brother, if you’re worried about me, just say it. A brother worrying about his sister isn’t embarrassing.” Liam’s ears suddenly turned red. He pursed his lips and said nothing, but my heart was completely calm. My sister was right. If she and I switched places, we would both live very exciting lives. She could fight back against all the bullying on the spot, picking up an iron rod and smashing it down hard, and she could also make sure her adoptive parents couldn’t control her. And I could also become an existence that made the Sterling family look at me with new eyes, making everyone like me. We will eventually reunite at the very top. 07 After Thursday’s evening self-study, Liam and Ethan came to find me, insisting on having a late-night snack, so I didn’t find a chance to sneak out alone. Actually, this day was mine and my sister’s birthday. After returning to the dorm, the school gates were already locked. I struggled to climb over the wall and unluckily ran into Ethan. Ethan and I sat side-by-side on the school wall. He looked at me with interest: “Where are you sneaking off to so late?” I stammered and couldn’t say it. Ethan leaned closer and said very ambiguously: “Did you know I was here, so you came to meet me?” “Unfortunately, your brother is about to come out. How about I take you away first, and we can go have fun.” I blushed and whispered: “I wanted to go buy… buy that.” When I said buy that, Ethan understood. He coughed unnaturally, then said: “Aren’t you uncomfortable right now? Let me buy it for you.” I shook my head, “No need, I’ll buy it myself.” Saying that, I was about to jump down. Ethan jumped down first and opened his arms to me: “Come down, I’ll catch you.” I jumped down and landed in a steady embrace. Ethan pulled me along. “Hurry, don’t let your brother find out. He’s been really jealous lately and always targets me.” I let Ethan pull me along, and we brushed past a girl standing at the school gate. She was holding a bouquet of white camellias in her hand, and neither of us looked at each other. After buying my things, I went to a bakery and bought two small cakes, paying for them before Ethan could. Then we went into a bookstore next door. Ethan shook his head: “What kind of person goes to a bookstore when they’re out to have fun? Little Ava, you really don’t know how to be romantic!” I took out a small cake, scooped up a spoonful, and offered it to Ethan’s mouth. He was stunned for a moment, then smiled radiantly, opened his mouth, and ate the cake I fed him. “So sweet.” I placed the other small cake on a bookshelf, then pulled Ethan and ran back. When we reached the school gate, there was a bouquet of white camellias on the ground. I crouched down and picked it up. At the same time, a girl took a small cake from a shelf in the bookstore. 08 During my three years of high school, I studied like my life depended on it, utilizing every resource I could. After all, being in an international high school, I was surrounded by the best and brightest. These people would be valuable connections in the future, so I had to be outstanding enough to make them respect me. After the college entrance exams, Ethan confessed his feelings to me amidst a bustling crowd. When I turned my head, I met Liam’s obscure and hard-to-read gaze. He was looking at me too. I had seen that look in his eyes countless times over the past two years. I smiled sweetly and walked toward Ethan: “Hello, boyfriend.” That night, Liam pinned me against the wall in my room and interrogated me with red eyes: “What’s so good about Ethan? Do you really like him that much?” “I don’t believe you don’t know how I feel! Have you forgotten who highlighted your notes day and night and helped you guess exam questions?” In my past life, did my sister also break into his room and confess her feelings like this? What did he say then? “Are you really that cheap? Calling me brother isn’t enough, you also want to be the mistress of the Sterling family?” “Remember your place! You’re just a dog raised by the Sterling family.” I tilted my head, looking at Liam with confusion but firmness: “But, you are my brother.” “Mom and Dad raised me and worked hard to cultivate me. How could I bite the hand that feeds me?” Liam’s eyes flashed with restraint, and he whispered: “I’ll figure something out with Mom and Dad. They like you a lot too.” “I’m sorry, brother. You are a very important family member to me, but the person I like has always been Ethan.” 09 In this life, I became the top scorer in science for the provincial college entrance exam. Liam also did very well, but unfortunately, it seemed I stole all the thunder. The Sterling family hosted a celebration banquet for us, and everyone was very curious about me. I behaved obediently, sensibly, and elegantly, earning a lot of face for the Sterling family. Many people approached with intentions of arranged marriages, but Mr. and Mrs. Sterling tactfully declined them all. The Ethan family immediately claimed me, saying Ethan and I were already together. Others smiled and congratulated Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, saying the Ethan and Sterling families were already close, and now with this marriage tie, others would only be left with scraps. I smiled at Ethan, getting lost in his tender and affectionate eyes, remembering something my sister had said. She said, “Sister, I really did love him.” Being intentionally flirted with by a golden boy like Liam, boldly confessing, being humiliated, and feeling heartbroken and sad—Ethan was like a ray of light shining into her heart. He was always so gentle, so attentive. With those beautiful peach blossom eyes, he looked deeply affectionate even when looking at a dog. He was extremely patient. But after three years of dating, he smiled and said he was bored, handed my sister a card, and told her to leave. After Ethan got married, the Sterling family felt they had raised my sister for nothing and made a loss, so they made her accompany a difficult client. That client was a sixty-year-old man with sadistic tendencies. My sister told me this with a smile. She said she had lived for over twenty years, and there wasn’t a single person around her who truly cared for her. No one noticed that since middle school, she had always hurt herself, time and time again, just to hold on until she was twenty-four. For the past few years, we would meet at a certain bookstore during holidays. My sister wore a baseball cap and a mask, and we sat back-to-back, slowly recounting the years we had missed in each other’s lives. Because other people’s parents said holidays were for family reunions, in this life, we made sure to find a way to meet on every holiday.

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I picked my son up from kindergarten, and to my absolute shock, my ex-husband, Ethan, was standing right outside my door. It had been three years since our divorce. He crouched down and held out his arms. “Come here, son. Let Daddy hold you.” My five-year-old instantly hid behind my legs. Then, as if remembering something important, he poked his head back out and yelled, “Go away!” Ethan suddenly broke down. Weeping hysterically, he asked me, “Mia, they told me we got a divorce. I don’t believe it.” Three years after our divorce, he had suffered an accident that wiped his memory. He forgot that we were divorced. And he forgot that he was the one who cheated. 01 “Buy a few extra groceries. Ethan is here.” After reluctantly letting Ethan inside, I quickly texted my current husband, Liam. Liam replied almost instantly, thoughtfully asking, “Does he have any dietary restrictions?” I thought about it for a second and texted back, “He doesn’t eat cilantro.” Liam replied, “Got it.” Only then did I turn my attention back to Ethan. He was still crying. His face was a messy mix of snot and tears as he sobbed. “Mia, how could we possibly be divorced?” “My only wish since I was eighteen was to marry you.” “Is there a mistake? Did someone mess up the records?” … He had curled himself into a tight ball on the sofa. As he sobbed, his shoulder blades trembled, making him look like someone enduring a profound, agonizing tragedy. Right now, his tears were falling in massive, heavy drops. But three years ago, from the day I discovered his affair to the day we finalized the divorce, he hadn’t shed a single tear. I handed him a box of tissues from the coffee table and pulled out my phone to text his mother. “Auntie, Ethan is at my place.” She replied just as quickly. “Mia, I am so, so sorry. The doctor said it’s best not to contradict him right now or cause him any sudden stress. I’ll come pick him up a little later tonight.” Reading her message, I couldn’t bring myself to say no. After my parents passed away in a car crash, it was the Vance family—Ethan’s family—who took me in. They treated me like their own daughter. I never lacked for food or clothes. Even though Ethan cheated on me and we got divorced. Even though I now flat-out refused to call Ethan “brother” like I used to when we were kids. I still owed them for raising me. That was a debt I had to repay. I deleted the message I had just typed: “Can he go home by himself?” Instead, I replied, “Did the doctor prescribe any medication for his head injury? I can have Liam swing by and pick it up.” Liam Vance. My husband. We got married last year. The chat went silent for a long time. The “typing…” indicator kept appearing and disappearing. Finally, she sent a voice memo. Her voice sounded incredibly raspy and aged. The fierce, decisive woman from my childhood memories suddenly sounded like she had aged ten years overnight. “I’m so sorry, Mia. Please tell Liam I apologize for the trouble.” 02 “Mommy, I want to go to my room and do my homework.” Leo, sitting right next to me, tugged on my sleeve. He was five years old, an age where sitting still is usually impossible. This was the very first time in his life he had ever volunteered to go to his room to do homework. When Ethan and I divorced, Leo was only two. But as he grew up, the absence of a father figure was obvious. Liam, however, never hid the truth from him. So, Leo knew perfectly well that the man currently crying on our sofa was his biological father. The man who had abandoned us. I patted his head. “Go ahead.” Ethan watched him leave. Once the bedroom door clicked shut, he grabbed a tissue, haphazardly wiped his face, and turned to look at me. He offered a cautious, fragile smile, desperately trying to find something to talk about. “Our little guy is so big now. I swear, when I left for work yesterday, he didn’t even know how to walk yet.” “He used to just nestle in my arms and give me this huge, gummy smile whenever he saw me.” I listened to him quietly. I grabbed a glass, meticulously dropped in some dried jasmine flowers, poured hot water over them, and pushed the cup toward him. “Drink some tea. It’ll help your throat.” Maybe it was because I was being too apathetic. Or maybe I was just acting too calm. He didn’t touch the hot water. He just stared at me intently with those bloodshot eyes. After a long, suffocating silence, he spoke, his voice trembling. “Mia… you don’t love me anymore.” 03 At our age, talking about “love” felt a bit childish. But if we were really going to point fingers, I definitely wasn’t the first one to stop loving. I poured myself a glass of water and finally gave him a serious answer to the question he had been obsessing over since he walked through the door. “Ethan, we are divorced.” I looked down at the jasmine flowers floating in my cup, and added the final nail to the coffin. “Because you cheated on me.” He completely froze. He just kept muttering the same phrase over and over: “How is that possible? How is that possible?” I used to wonder how it was possible, too. We grew up together. After our high school graduation, he confessed his feelings to me, his face blushing bright red. During college, we were on opposite sides of the country. He traveled to see me so often that his stack of train tickets was thicker than a dictionary. Even my incredibly picky college roommates had nothing but good things to say about him. After we graduated, he started his own tech company. We lived in a tiny, cramped apartment. When we were at our brokest, we could only afford to order one single bowl of wonton soup for dinner. He stubbornly claimed he wasn’t hungry and tried to get up and leave the table. I split the soup into two bowls. When I pushed his bowl toward him, his tears fell straight into the broth. He looked at me and made a solemn vow: “Mia, I promise you. I swear I will give you a happy life.” We got married. The following year, we had Leo. His company started taking off, becoming more and more successful. Everything seemed to be heading exactly toward that “happy life” Ethan had promised. Except for the part where he cheated. 04 The first time I suspected something, Leo was a year and a half old. He spiked a sudden, terrifying fever in the middle of the night. I shook Ethan awake and told him to drive us to the hospital. He made a quick phone call. A car pulled up a few minutes later, but the person in the driver’s seat was a young woman. As she got out to let Ethan drive, she casually remarked, “Mr. Vance, I didn’t get to drive it fast enough tonight. You owe me dinner to make up for it.” I stayed completely silent the entire ride, until Ethan finally offered an explanation. “She’s the daughter of the CEO we’re partnering with. She insisted on taking my beat-up car for a spin.” He was being overly modest. That “beat-up car” cost more than our family’s entire living expenses for the first half of our lives. I didn’t press the issue. I only asked him one question: “When does the partnership contract end?” He rubbed his temples. “In half a month.” I thought we had an unspoken understanding. Even if something was going on, once that half-month was up, it had to end. But at Leo’s second birthday party, she showed up again. She laughed and pinched Leo’s cheek, but her sharp, acrylic nails dug painfully into his soft skin. Leo burst into tears. When Ethan quickly picked him up to comfort him, Leo’s flailing hand accidentally knocked Ethan’s glasses off his face. Ethan instinctively lowered his head to catch them. The woman smoothly took a step forward, her long hair cascading over his shoulder. She went up on her tiptoes, her manicured finger gently brushing against his temple as she casually pushed his glasses back up his nose. When Ethan put his glasses back on, he saw me standing just a few feet away. Absolute panic washed over his face. I took Leo from his arms. That night, I confronted him directly: “You’ve slept together.” He refused to admit it. He hovered around me, constantly trying to appease me. He swallowed his pride, said every sweet thing he could think of, and bought me round after round of expensive gifts. I still refused to speak to him. This dragged on for months. Then, one day… Leo was running a low-grade fever. I was holding him, trying to rock him to sleep. Ethan completely ignored the fact that our son was sick. He violently smashed a glass against the wall. A shard flew and sliced a long cut across my calf. He yelled at the top of his lungs: “Fine! Yes, we slept together! Are you happy now?!” I looked down at the thin line of blood welling up on my leg. I spoke very quietly. “Okay. Then let’s get a divorce.” 05 “How is that possible?” Ethan was still muttering to himself in disbelief. But sitting here now, looking at him, I thought: Why wouldn’t it be possible? If he could hit his head and develop selective amnesia, anything is possible. “Her name is Chloe Sinclair. She’s younger than me, and prettier than me.” “The heiress to the Sinclair Group. Optimistic, outgoing, beautiful, and young.” … “I only want you, Mia.” Ethan cut me off. He repeated himself, desperate: “Mia, I’m telling you, growing up, my only wish in life was to marry you.” He didn’t believe me. He was absolutely certain I was just making up a cruel lie to punish him. “Aren’t we already married?” “Did I do something wrong? Just tell me, I’ll fix it. I promise I’ll change.” “Please, don’t throw me away.” … It made sense. If someone had told me five years ago that Ethan and I would get a divorce, I would have thought they were crazy too. We had been together for so long. We were practically family; our lives were entirely intertwined. When we finally split, it felt like my skin was being peeled off and my bones ripped out. I looked at his stubborn, desperate face and sighed. “Nothing stays the same forever.” He kept acting like a petulant child. “I know I messed up. I’ll change. But you can’t just throw me away.” Before his memory loss, he rarely acted this childish. If he broke a promise or made a mistake, his go-to solution was to buy me an incredibly expensive, beautifully wrapped gift. Even our mutual friends would see them and joke, “Wow, CEO Vance really spared no expense.” But I hated them. I much preferred the simple, home-cooked meals he used to make for us on holidays when we were broke. Looking back now, the signs were always there. I had tried to reason with him, but he refused to accept reality. Suddenly, I just felt incredibly annoyed. Until the sound of the front door unlocking shattered the strange, suffocating atmosphere in the room. “Mia, I’m home.” I stood up and practically jogged over to take the grocery bags from him. He handed me a cake box he was holding in his other hand. Aware that we had a guest in the living room, I leaned in close and whispered, “That bakery is so far away. You must be exhausted.” He ruffled my hair, looked past me into the living room, and asked loudly, “Any dietary restrictions?” Hearing Liam’s voice, Leo immediately opened his bedroom door and came running out, his little feet slapping against the floor. He threw himself directly into Liam’s arms. “Daddy! You’re home!” Ethan stared at Liam, his entire body trembling violently. He froze, completely rooted to the spot. Seeing his expression, I finally realized something. He hadn’t known that I had remarried.

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My eight-month pregnant sister-in-law was violently shoved to the ground, hemorrhaging profusely, and rushed to the hospital. I drove right past her. I rolled up my car window, pretended I didn’t see a thing, and hit the gas. In my past life, I was the one who found her passed out in a pool of blood. I immediately rushed her to the hospital. The situation was critical. The massive hemorrhage triggered an amniotic fluid embolism. My husband was the top obstetrician in the city. I called him, begging him to get to the hospital immediately. But he assumed I was just throwing a jealous fit because he was out to dinner with his childhood sweetheart’s family. He thought I was using his sister’s “emergency” as a manipulative tactic to force him to come home. By the time his family finally arrived at the hospital, his sister had already died from the embolism because the doctors couldn’t save her in time. His entire family blamed me for her death. They believed I intentionally misled my husband, causing the fatal delay. Her husband, rushing back from out of town, believed their venomous lies. Consumed by grief and rage, he hacked me to death with a machete right at her funeral. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day my sister-in-law was pushed and started hemorrhaging. 1 My vision blurred for a second. As the stoplight turned red, I instinctively hit the brakes. Screams and panicked shouts erupted from the sidewalk. “Call 911! A pregnant woman just fell and she’s bleeding everywhere!” My hand shot to the door handle. But the exact second I was about to push the door open, horrific memories flooded my mind. My husband and my in-laws pointing fingers at my face, cursing me with vile words, blaming me for her death. And then… I touched my own stomach. In my past life, this was where my brother-in-law’s machete had repeatedly struck, turning my unborn child into pulp. Phantom pains made every muscle in my body spasm in agony. I pulled my hand back. The light turned green. Without a second of hesitation, I stepped on the gas and drove away. To make absolutely sure my in-laws couldn’t use me as a scapegoat again, I drove straight to my mother-in-law’s house. “Mom, Arthur is working late tonight, so I bought some fresh fish and brought it over for you.” I walked in, pretending I didn’t notice her frantically hanging up a video call, looking incredibly guilty. “Oh, Luna, you’re here…” Before she could finish her sentence, her phone rang. She answered it, and her face instantly turned ghost-white. Tears burst from her eyes. Her legs gave out, and she practically crawled toward me. “Hurry! We have to go to the hospital! Mia fell!” I already knew, but I feigned absolute shock. I helped her into my car and sped toward the maternity hospital as fast as I could. It was the exact hospital where my husband worked. In this life, without my intervention, bystanders had called the ambulance that brought her here. By the time we arrived, my sister-in-law was already in the operating room. “Family members, please sign here. The patient is 32 weeks pregnant. She suffered a severe fall and massive hemorrhaging. An emergency C-section is absolutely necessary.” Just like in my past life, my mother-in-law signed the forms with violently trembling hands. I turned to her and said, “Arthur is the best obstetrician in the city. He told me he was working late today. Just in case, I should probably call him down here.” She hesitated for a split second, then nodded. I called Arthur’s number. It rang three times and went straight to voicemail. “Mom, Arthur might be in the middle of something. I’ll go up to his department and find him.” Her eyes darted nervously, but she nodded. The second I walked away, she pulled out her phone and called him herself. I knew for a fact he wasn’t even in the hospital. I certainly wasn’t going to waste my energy looking for him. I stood in the stairwell, watching my mother-in-law dial his number over and over again. I watched her expression shift from composed, to anxious, to sheer panic as tears streamed down her face. I couldn’t help but let a smirk curl the corner of my lips. She definitely didn’t know that her precious son had long since put his phone on silent so he could enjoy a quiet, uninterrupted dinner with his childhood sweetheart. Right before I walked into her house, Arthur had been on a video call with her. He was just trying to get her to keep me occupied so I wouldn’t interrupt his little rendezvous. Watching her pace like an ant on a hot pan, I intentionally jogged back, panting heavily. “Mom! Arthur’s colleagues said he isn’t working late today! And I can’t reach him on his phone at all!” A flash of guilt crossed her face, but she still tried to cover for him. “He… he was probably just called out for an emergency consult. If you can’t reach him, just try again in a few minutes.” Right at that moment, Arthur’s aunt (my father-in-law’s sister) and Mia’s in-laws rushed into the waiting area. The aunt looked at me, her eyebrows shooting up in immediate anger. “Where is Arthur?! Isn’t he an obstetrician here?! What good are you doing just standing there?! Why haven’t you told him to get his ass down here?!” Aunt Martha was a formidable presence. Since my father-in-law passed away, she controlled every major and minor decision in the Sterling family. In my past life, the second the doctor announced Mia’s death, before I could even process it, she slapped me hard across the face twice. “You are her sister-in-law! You’re supposed to act like a mother figure to her! How could you just stand by and watch her die?!” In this life, I certainly wasn’t going to give her that opportunity. I offered a bitter, helpless smile. “Aunt Martha, I can’t reach Arthur. He told me this morning he was working late, but I just went up to his department and his colleagues said he never came in today. I’ve been calling his phone non-stop, but he won’t answer.” My mother-in-law mumbled something under her breath but ultimately stayed silent. “Are you an idiot?! If it doesn’t go through, you keep calling! Useless!” Aunt Martha shrieked. I quickly pulled out my phone and dialed his number again and again. Finally, on the tenth try, the call connected. 2 I immediately put it on speakerphone. “Hubby…” “Are you insane?! Why the hell do you keep calling me over and over?! Didn’t I tell you I was working late?! I’m incredibly busy, do not bother me!” “Hubby, Mia fell and is hemorrhaging massively! She’s in the operating room right now! If you aren’t at the hospital, where are you?!” There was a pause on the other end, followed immediately by a sickeningly sweet, artificial female voice. “Oh, is your wife checking up on you because she doesn’t trust you? Arthur, I hope your colleagues don’t get the wrong idea. And really, Luna, if you have an issue, you should just ask Arthur directly. Going to his workplace and causing a scene is bad enough, but cursing his sister with a medical emergency? That’s just vicious.” “No, I didn’t! Arthur, Mia is literally in the operating room right now! If you don’t believe me, you can…” “Get lost! If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable! Mia is resting at her in-laws’ house, how could she possibly fall?! There’s a limit to how many jealous tantrums I’m going to tolerate! You actually went to my department to cause a scene?! If this affects my year-end promotion, I swear to God I will kill you!” Before I could say another word, he hung up. The previously murmuring waiting area outside the OR fell dead silent. I smiled bitterly, putting on a perfectly wounded expression. My mother-in-law looked away shiftily. A brief flash of awkwardness crossed Aunt Martha’s face, but she didn’t say anything. Mia’s in-laws exchanged a sigh, looking at the Sterling family with absolute disgust. Just then, the OR doors burst open. A nurse rushed out, looking frantic. “The patient is experiencing an amniotic fluid embolism! You’re Dr. Sterling’s family, right?! Someone needs to contact him immediately!” My eyes flickered. Everything was unfolding exactly as it had in my past life. My mother-in-law’s legs gave out, and she collapsed directly onto the floor. Aunt Martha couldn’t maintain her detached attitude anymore. She frantically pulled out her phone to call Arthur, muttering to herself, “It’s fine, it’s fine. Arthur is the best obstetrician here. He’s saved several patients from this before. He can definitely save Mia!” The golden window for treating an amniotic fluid embolism is terrifyingly short—barely ten minutes. It’s literally a tug-of-war with the Grim Reaper. Over the past three years, Arthur had successfully saved five patients from it, only losing one. That record was what propelled him to the top position in the central maternity department. Aunt Martha’s call connected. She screamed, sobbing hysterically, “Arthur! Get to the hospital right now! Your sister has an amniotic fluid embolism! You are the only one who can save her!” Through the phone, we could hear the sounds of children screaming and playing, and the loud, cheerful clinking of glasses. “Aunt Martha, Luna has lost her mind, and now you’re going crazy with her?! Is there an end to this drama?! I revolve my entire life around her 365 days a year, and I finally take one day to get some peace and quiet! Can you all just leave me alone?! Nothing is going on between me and Chloe! Her family is just back in town and I’m having dinner with them! For just this one day, stop calling me!” “Arthur, I am not lying to you! Your sister is really in danger! She has an amniotic fluid embolism, and right now, you are her only hope! I am begging you, Arthur, please come back! If you don’t, you’re going to regret this for the rest of your life!” “I’ll only regret it if I actually go back!” Arthur’s voice was freezing cold, completely devoid of emotion. Hearing his voice, my mother-in-law completely broke down. She grabbed the phone and wailed, “Son! Your aunt isn’t lying! Your sister is really in danger! Even if you don’t believe Luna, even if you don’t believe your aunt… do you really not believe me?! Get back here right now!” I couldn’t help but sigh internally. To me, a mother-in-law who knew her son was cheating and actively helped him cover it up was pure garbage. But to Mia, she truly was a good, devoted mother. “Arthur, did you hear your mother?! Do you think your own mother would lie to you?! Get your ass back here!” Aunt Martha was jumping with anxiety. “Mom, you…” Arthur’s voice finally sounded hesitant. “Ah! Arthur! My eye! My eye hurts so much!” A woman’s delicate cry of pain echoed through the phone, accompanied by an adult scolding a child. “How could you shoot a marble at your aunt’s face?!” Arthur’s panicked, intensely concerned voice immediately drowned out everything else. “Chloe! Does it hurt? Don’t move! I’m a doctor, let me look at it!” Then, his voice turned sharp and icy as he addressed the phone. “Mom, drop the act. Even if what you’re saying is true, it’s useless. I’ve had a lot to drink. I can’t drive, and I can’t make it back.” With that, the line went dead. The phone slipped from Aunt Martha’s hand, clattering to the floor. My mother-in-law smashed her forehead against the tiles, completely paralyzed. Aunt Martha slumped to the floor, tears streaming silently down her face, muttering over and over, “How did Arthur become like this? How could he do this? How could he abandon his own family for some woman? He’s a monster… an absolute monster…” I helped my mother-in-law up. Looking at the massive, swelling bruise on her forehead, I genuinely felt bad that she had wasted her life raising a son like that. But I didn’t pity her. Because in my past life, she was one of the primary forces that drove me to my brutal death. I don’t know how much time passed before the OR doors opened again. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.” 3 Mia and the baby were both gone. My mother-in-law was like an empty shell. She refused to eat or drink, just sitting there clutching Mia’s clothes and sobbing. Aunt Martha was furious. She recounted the events at the hospital to every single relative she could find, viciously cursing Arthur as a soulless monster. When Mia’s in-laws found out the baby she was carrying was a boy, they cried even harder. Mia’s husband, David, rushed back from out of town that very day. When he saw the lifeless bodies of his wife and unborn child, his face twisted in agony, his eyes blood-red. He simply couldn’t accept that he had only been gone for a three-day business trip—that right before he left, they had been excitedly planning their future as a family of three—and now, she was just gone. After hearing the absolute truth from his parents, David wiped his tears and silently began helping me organize the funeral arrangements. No one even thought to notify Arthur. Especially after learning that he had been having dinner with Chloe’s family at a hotel directly across the street from the hospital, and hadn’t even bothered to walk over and verify the situation. Even his own mother had completely given up on him. But how could I possibly let Arthur miss such a lively, important event? The day before Mia was scheduled to be buried in their rural hometown, I paid someone to anonymously notify him. On the day of the burial, a light drizzle fell from the sky. I stood by the cars under an umbrella, watching the crowd carry Mia’s casket out of the mourning tent. In my past life, it was on this exact day that David hacked me to death with a machete. My blood, mixed with the rain, rolled out like a gruesome red carpet for Mia’s final journey. Before the casket even cleared the doorway, Arthur’s car screeched to a halt. He stormed out of the car, practically vibrating with rage, and charged straight toward me. I watched him with a perfectly numb, deadpan expression. I hadn’t even opened my mouth yet. Smack! He looked at the black-and-white memorial portrait I was holding and delivered a brutal slap across my face. “You vicious bitch! You actually dared to curse my sister just to trick me into coming back?!” I collapsed onto the muddy ground. The framed portrait slipped from my grasp, falling into the dirt. Mud splattered across half of Mia’s face, leaving only her cold, lifeless eyes visible, staring silently at Arthur and the rest of the world. Arthur’s eyes were bloodshot. I don’t know if it was fear or pure rage that triggered his feral instincts, but all traces of the gentle, refined doctor vanished. He looked at me like a rabid animal and lunged. “You bitch! I’ll teach you to lie! I’ll teach you to curse my sister! I’m going to beat you to death!” I didn’t fight back as Arthur kicked and punched me. I just stared at the portrait of Mia, silently thinking: Mia, make sure you take a very good look at who your real enemy is. When you get to the underworld to file your grievances, make sure you don’t accuse the wrong person. “Enough! What the hell are you doing?!” The people inside the mourning tent heard the commotion and rushed out. Aunt Martha violently shoved Arthur away, sobbing and screaming, “You absolute monster! Your sister could have been saved! We called you so many times! Your mother practically got on her knees and begged you! And just because of one word from that cheap slut, you refused to save her! You killed your own sister, and now you have the nerve to cause a scene at her funeral?! What do you want?! What the hell do you want?!” Arthur staggered backward, his face a mask of terror desperately trying to appear calm. “Aunt Martha, what are you talking about? How could Mia actually be dead? She must be faking it! How can you all be helping her lie to me?! Is it because she’s pregnant? Are you all helping her trick me for the sake of the baby?!” I curled myself into a tight ball on the muddy ground, letting the icy rain smash against my face, washing away the tears rolling down my cheeks. So, Arthur actually knew I was pregnant. “You’re all lying to me! I want to see Mia! Mia! MIA!” Arthur screamed, trying to force his way into the mourning tent. But the next second, he was forced back out. The heavy, black casket, carried by eight strong men, slowly emerged from the doorway. Chapter 2 4 “Didn’t you say you wanted to see Mia? Here she is.” Aunt Martha wiped the freezing rain from her face, pointing a trembling finger at the heavy wooden casket. Her voice was thick with biting sarcasm. Arthur stumbled toward the coffin. His legs completely gave out, and he collapsed onto the muddy ground. “Who exactly is this pathetic performance for? Your wife begged you to come back, and you said she was lying. I begged you to come back, and you said I was lying. Your own mother got on her knees and begged you to come back, and you still said she was lying! Did you really believe we were all lying to you? Or is it just that your sister’s life was completely worthless compared to having dinner with another woman?!” “No! That’s not true! Mia is my sister! I practically raised her! I loved her like she was my own daughter!” Mia and I never had a good relationship. Although she lost her father at a young age, my mother-in-law and Arthur treated her like absolute royalty. She grew up incredibly spoiled, arrogant, and entitled. Added to the fact that Arthur openly treated me with dismissive neglect, she never showed me an ounce of respect. Every time she saw me, she ordered me around with a condescending, arrogant tone. In the past, I was constantly forced to compete with her for a place in Arthur’s heart. She won every single time. Arthur defended her unconditionally, without logic or reason. Now, she had finally been forced into a competition of her own. But one single loss cost her her life. I guess this is what they call karma. Smack! Arthur’s cowardly denial completely enraged Aunt Martha. She slapped him so hard his head snapped to the side. Enduring the heavy, cramping pain in my lower abdomen, I felt nothing but a sharp thrill of satisfaction. If my body wasn’t so weak right now, I would have loved to beat him senseless myself. Someone helped me up from the mud. I clutched Mia’s black-and-white portrait and stood to the side, keeping my head down as I carefully wiped the mud from the glass. I ignored the warm blood slowly dripping down my legs, soaking my dress. My poor baby… Mommy is so sorry. Go find a mom and dad who will actually be excited for you to be born. The moment I finished wiping the portrait clean, Arthur violently shoved me again. He directed all his suffocating guilt and rage entirely onto me. “It was you! You killed my sister! She was perfectly fine at home, how could she suddenly fall?! It’s all your fault! You cursed, unlucky bitch! Give me my sister back!!!” I crashed back into the mud. The portrait shattered in a puddle, and the blood pooling at my feet grew thicker. But neither Aunt Martha nor Arthur seemed to notice. “Luna, I always knew you were jealous of Mia! You were jealous of how much I spoiled her! But she’s my biological sister! How could you murder her?! You killer! I’m going to beat you to death!” Arthur’s face was terrifyingly contorted. He looked like a rabid, feral beast, completely stripped of any human decency. He was actually acting even more unhinged than he did in my past life. But it made sense. In my past life, they had a plausible reason to blame Mia’s death on me. I was the only one waiting outside the OR, and no one else heard the phone call I made to him. He could spin the narrative however he wanted. But in this life, my mother-in-law, Aunt Martha, and Mia’s in-laws all knew exactly what he did. He had absolutely no way to shift the blame. His current outburst was just pure, humiliated rage. His lies couldn’t even convince himself anymore, so naturally, he lost control. I swallowed the retort on the tip of my tongue, covered my head, and curled up defensively. Today was the day of Mia’s burial. Even if the Sterling family didn’t care about the timing, the David’s family wouldn’t allow Arthur to delay the auspicious hour. Sure enough, as soon as the casket was loaded into the hearse, David emerged from the mourning tent, supporting his grieving parents. “Arthur, get the hell out of here! Don’t you dare pollute my wife’s path to the afterlife!”

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