To give her childhood friend my spot at Cambridge, my wife destroyed my records. She deliberately falsified my visa application, getting me permanently blacklisted, then had the tendons in my hand severed and shipped me off to The Sterling Institute for Men. My mother-in-law, who had always doted on me, was full of praise for the decision. “It serves him right, the ungrateful leech. We fed him, clothed him, and what does he do? Tries to get a PhD abroad to find his birth parents. He wants to play the dutiful son for them? Who’s going to take care of me in my old age?” My wife, Lydia, just scoffed. “He’s just vain. The moment he found out I turned down the Cambridge offer for him, he had the nerve to give me the silent treatment and ask for a divorce. If he’d actually gone, he’d have been completely out of my control.” She added, “Being my husband means a life without worry, but he still wanted to steal Leo’s future. The Sterling Institute will teach him to be grateful for what he has.” One semester later, my wife went to the airport to pick up her childhood friend, home from his studies abroad. For the first time in months, she asked her assistant about me. “It’s been long enough. Has he learned his lesson? Tell him he can come home for the winter break.” What she didn’t know was that I had died on the very first day she sent me to that "institute." 1 When I opened my eyes again, I was at the welcome-home party for Leo, my wife’s childhood friend. Looking for something to talk about, they started debating who among their old friends had ended up the most pathetic. Someone snickered. “Is there even a question? It’s gotta be Sean, right? Three years ago, he was so cocky about getting into Cambridge for his PhD. Total bust. Then he spent two years trying and failing again from home. Now he’s at that Sterling Institute place!” “Meanwhile, our boy Leo, the real genius, quietly comes back with a Cambridge doctorate. Companies are lining up to offer him seven-figure salaries. God, I’m so jealous!” The private room erupted in a chorus of laughter and mockery. These were the same people who once swore it was a travesty, that if it weren’t for Leo’s dirty tricks, the one studying abroad should have been me. My wife, Lydia, kept a placid expression, but her eyes kept darting toward the door. Her fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the table as she asked her assistant, “Sean’s on winter break too, isn’t he? Hasn’t he been begging to come home?” The assistant lied through his teeth. “The Institute says Mr. Evans refuses to leave. He’s staying on campus voluntarily. And… he won’t stop cursing you and Mr. Vance.” The crease between Lydia’s brows deepened. “A whole semester, and he’s still not learned a thing.” “Tell him this,” she commanded. “If he calls me and apologizes, and swears he’ll never think about going abroad again, I can forgive and forget. He can come home for the holidays.” A bitter laugh escaped my spectral lips. She still had no idea. I was already dead. Before my PhD application this year, I had accidentally discovered that Lydia had sabotaged my last two attempts. I’d given her the silent treatment. But I never imagined she would stoop so low as to tamper with my visa documents, a final, catastrophic blow that got me banned for life. With my dream of finding my birth parents in England shattered, my heart died. I asked for a divorce. Her response was to have me thrown into the Sterling Institute, where I met my end. Only after death did I learn the full extent of her scheme. She was terrified that if I went abroad, the truth from three years ago would come out—the truth that Leo had stolen my academic record and my place at Cambridge. Back in the present, Leo lowered his head, revealing a faint scar on his forehead. He took Lydia’s hands in his, his voice laced with manufactured concern. “He must be furious you sent him to that place. Don’t be afraid, Lydia. I’ll protect you. I don’t care if he hits me.” Years ago, Leo and I had applied to the same university under different advisors. In the end, my chosen professor announced he was taking Leo instead. When I confronted Leo to ask what happened, he burst into tears and slammed his head against a pillar, threatening to die to prove his innocence. Everyone decided I was a sore loser who’d resorted to violence. They looked at me with disgust. Lydia’s eyes softened with pity for Leo. “He wouldn’t dare,” she sneered. “I’ll let him rot in that institute for the rest of his life.” The others chimed in with words of comfort. “Come on, Leo. If Lydia hadn’t been so worried Sean would hurt you back then, she never would have impulsively proposed to him. Don’t you worry. You’re the only one in her heart. She’ll always protect you.” A tremor went through my entire being. Back then, Lydia was the only one who said she believed me, who begged me not to be rash, who promised to stay by my side while I tried again. It was all a lie. She was just afraid I’d cause trouble for Leo. Remembering the incident, someone advised, “Lydia, Sean’s personality is just awful. He’s not good enough for you. Leo is a much better fit. You two were childhood sweethearts, and now he’s so successful. Don’t let this drag on.” Lydia gave a noncommittal answer. “Leo still has another semester. We’ll see.” She pulled out her phone. No missed calls. Her face darkened as she grilled her assistant. “Are you sure you passed on my message? Why hasn’t he called me yet?” As if on cue, her phone buzzed. She didn’t even look at the screen, just brought it to her ear, a triumphant smirk on her lips. “Sean, you finally—” But the voice on the other end spoke in crisp English. “Miss Hayes, is this correct? We have a medical fund payment to transfer to your account. Are you available to receive it?” Lydia was confused. “I’m sorry, who is this?” The voice on the other end explained gently. “Three years ago, you were suffering from end-stage kidney failure. Your husband, Mr. Sean Evans, bombarded our top specialist with 999 emails, begging him to perform your surgery. The specialist had already announced his retirement, but Mr. Evans flew here himself. He offered his entire life savings and knelt in the rain for a day and a night, pleading for your life.” “We had never witnessed such profound devotion. The specialist made an exception for you. He never accepted the payment, instead converting it into a medical fund in Mr. Evans’s name. The fund has now reached its maturity date, and we intended to return it to Mr. Evans, but we’ve been unable to contact him.” At the time, Lydia had collapsed suddenly. Her condition was critical. Even if a donor kidney was found, no surgeon in the country dared to operate. I, desperate, had bruised my forehead to the point of bleeding, begging that foreign specialist to save her. When Lydia finally came out of surgery, I wept with joy. I never could have imagined that just a few months later, I would face the greatest betrayal of my life. Everyone in the room was an elite professional; they all understood the English conversation. A long silence fell, finally broken by someone’s soft exclamation. “We all thought he’d just abandoned you to go traveling back then. I had no idea… He was so devoted. Without that doctor, you might not have made it off that operating table.” Lydia’s fingers clenched the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. It took her a long moment to find her voice. When she did, it was ice. “I don’t need it. Donate it.” She hung up, a cold smile playing on her lips. “Sean’s just a martyr. Leo would never emotionally blackmail me like that.” “When I was dying from kidney failure, all he did was find a doctor. But Leo… Leo decided to risk his own life to save me!” “Leo’s health has been ruined ever since, but Sean? Selfish to the core. Threw a fit and demanded a divorce over something so trivial!” A bitter taste filled my mouth. I was the one who donated the kidney. I have a congenital bleeding disorder. To save her, I still went under the knife, knowing it could kill me. When I woke up, I found Lydia fussing over Leo, endlessly thanking him. No matter how I tried to explain, she thought I was just trying to steal his glory. Not long after, just because my initial PhD exam scores were higher than Leo’s, he threatened to throw himself off a bridge. “Sean, why am I always second best to you? You’re like a shadow hanging over my life! And now I have to watch you go off to Cambridge in this broken body? I’d rather be dead!” That single, pathetic plea was enough for Lydia to decide to help him steal my place. That was the beginning of it all. The atmosphere grew heavy. People raised their glasses, trying to lighten the mood. Someone pulled out their phone to scroll through short videos, forgetting to turn down the volume. A robotic voice blared out: “Breaking news! The ‘Sterling Institute for Men’ model is under fire for alleged abuse and criminal activity!” Clatter. Lydia’s fork fell to the floor.
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