I lost a bet during a game with my friends, and my punishment was being forced to post a specific status on my social media: [I'm two months pregnant. I suddenly really wanted some grapes, but my husband refused to buy them for me. Then I wanted some green grapes, and he still refused. The marriage is over, we've broken up, I got rid of the baby, and I finally ate my grapes. From now on, the creature known as a 'husband' no longer exists in my world.] The male lead of my loveless, ghost-town of a marriage was instantly summoned back from overseas overnight by our panicked parents. After a grueling three-way interrogation, the truth came out. When the man who took the blame for my prank finally came home, he had his assistant haul in three massive boxes of red grapes and three boxes of green grapes. His face was as cold as the Grim Reaper himself. "Since you love eating them so much, this time, I'm going to let you eat until you drop." 1 After hitting "Post" on that status, I casually tossed my phone onto the luxurious marble table and lazily scanned the room. "How was that? Satisfied?" My friends around the table all gave me a thumbs-up. Leo even cursed in absolute disbelief, picking up my phone to verify it. "Serena, you are insane! You seriously didn't filter a single person from seeing this." I couldn't be bothered to respond to their flattery, simply waving my hand to deal the next round of cards. I was used to doing whatever I wanted. As for the absolute tsunami this post would cause once my parents and my in-laws saw it? I didn't even want to think about it. While shuffling the cards, Chloe leaned in close to me. With an "I-know-exactly-what-you're-doing" smirk, she offered her expert analysis on my bold move: "If you didn't want to post it, who could force you? You did this on purpose. You just wanted to summon CEO Thorne back from overseas, didn't you?" Chloe had been reading way too many billionaire romance novels lately. Her head was full of cliché, dramatic plotlines. I decided not to argue with her and just gave a dismissive reply: "Mhm. You're completely right." In our elite New York social circle, whenever anyone brought up me and Ethan Thorne, they would always sigh and call it a spectacularly doomed, toxic karma. When we first met as college freshmen, I was the arrogant, high-and-mighty heiress of the Vance family, sitting comfortably at the absolute center of the Manhattan socialite scene. Whenever the Thorne family was mentioned, people would scoff and call them "tasteless new money who didn't belong in high society." Naturally, Ethan was completely ostracized by our circle. And I was the undisputed ringleader of that isolation campaign. But the eighteen-year-old Ethan couldn't have cared less. His demeanor back then was entirely different from how he is now. He was loud, arrogant, and perfectly content doing his own thing. To crush his arrogance, I personally stepped onto the battlefield. I pretended to be deeply in love with him, chasing him relentlessly for over six months. Just when he had completely fallen for me, I ruthlessly dumped him. Then, I joined my friends in kicking him while he was down, mercilessly mocking him for thinking he was ever good enough for me. With such bad blood between us, we were supposed to hate each other for the rest of our lives. But fate has a twisted sense of humor. Three years ago, a massive economic crisis hit, severely impacting all the old-money families in New York. Desperate for capital and protection, my father swallowed his pride and went begging to the Thorne family—the only ones who emerged from the crisis unscathed—proposing a corporate marriage. I didn't dare tell my father about the horrible things I had done to Ethan in college. I spent every day living in pure terror, waiting for my father to be thrown out onto the street. But to my utter shock, the Thorne family agreed. At first, I was certain this was Ethan's grand revenge. The Thorne family was no longer just "new money." Their business empire had expanded at a terrifying rate, becoming a top-tier conglomerate that everyone in the city looked up to. And Ethan, who had entered the family business early, was already a high-ranking executive, flying all over the world. Forget about revenge—in our three years of marriage, I had only seen him a grand total of three times. The first year, I lived in constant fear, treating every day like walking on eggshells, terrified that one wrong move would anger my billionaire husband. The second year, I comfortably spent my exorbitant allowance, lived in our massive, empty penthouse, and completely forgot my place. Chloe was hopelessly obsessed with our dynamic, treating us like her favorite fictional couple. "CEO Thorne is absolutely true love to you! Why do you think he travels the world working himself to the bone? It's so you can buy priceless jewelry without blinking and rent out private islands for your parties!" I didn't say a word. A few cards slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor. "I'm done. I fold this round." If I hadn't known that Ethan was keeping a bright, beautiful woman in his luxury mansion in Dubai, my romantically delusional brain might have actually believed he was tolerating me out of lingering affection. But as time went on, I figured it out. This marriage was completely optional to him. He just married me to have a mascot sitting at home to shut down the public gossip. This mascot could be Serena Vance, or it could be literally anyone else. 2 I was woken up by our housekeeper. The consequence of staying up all night drinking was that my sleep schedule was completely flipped. It had been exactly twenty-three hours since I made that fateful post. "Ma'am, the main estate sent a car for you. It's waiting downstairs." I frustratedly ran a hand through my messy hair, trying to calculate what important date today was. After washing up, I checked my phone. One look nearly gave me a heart attack. Aside from the countless frantic, concerned messages from my parents and in-laws, even Ethan—whom I hadn't spoken to in four or five months—had sent me a single "?". My hand trembled, and I replied with a "?" of my own. He replied instantly: > [I'm at the main estate. Come over.] My brain practically exploded. It was months away from Thanksgiving. Why the hell was Ethan suddenly back in the country?! On the ride to the estate, I scrolled through all the unread messages and finally remembered the post I made last night after losing that stupid game. Ethan's time was unbelievably valuable. Even during our wedding vows, his assistant was standing nearby checking his watch. Now, because of a joke post, he was summoned back from Dubai overnight by our parents?! When I stepped out of the car, my legs felt like jelly. The Ethan I was most familiar with was the arrogant, reckless boy from our youth. The day he got his driver's license, he totaled an obscenely expensive supercar. He didn't even flinch, just kicked the shattered headlight and complained, "What a piece of junk." He was not this terrifying, awe-inspiring CEO. From his perfectly tailored cuffs to his impeccably styled hair, every single movement screamed "corporate elite." It was as if he was born in a boardroom. Right now, this corporate elite was occupying a single armchair, while our four parents sat opposite him on the sofa, looking incredibly stern, like a tribunal preparing to pass judgment. The moment I walked in, my mother-in-law's expression softened. She smiled and came over to take my hand. "It's my fault. I didn't realize Serena was feeling so wronged." My own mother followed closely behind, casting a hesitant, pointed look at my stomach. Thanks to my frequent, spontaneous vacations around the world, I had successfully created the illusion that I regularly flew out to visit Ethan. Therefore, they had absolutely no idea about the true, nonexistent state of our marriage. In their eyes, while Ethan and I might not have a fiery, passionate romance, we were mutually supportive and harmonious. I opened my mouth, struggling to find the words, and silently explained: "Mom... I'm not pregnant..." Compared to my mother-in-law, my own mother knew exactly what kind of trouble I was capable of causing. She instantly gave me a "I knew you were pulling some kind of stunt" look and stood back, waiting to see how I would clean up my own mess. Three other pairs of eyes stared directly at me, waiting for my explanation. I had never faced an interrogation like this in my life. Desperate, I looked at Ethan, praying that the male lead of this ghost-town marriage would throw me a lifeline. The man fought cutthroat corporate wars in Dubai, only for a massive scandal to drop on his head in New York. Yet, Ethan didn't seem angry at all. And from the looks of it, he hadn't sold me out yet. Time ticked by. Just as I was losing all hope and frantically trying to piece together a lie in my head... Ethan finally spoke: "I've been too busy with work lately, and I haven't had time to spend with Serena. She was just throwing a tantrum at me. It's a misunderstanding. I'm sorry for making you all worry." Ethan was too brilliant and intimidating. He held absolute authority in the family. As soon as he said those words, the four elders immediately understood and nodded in relief. "We were just overreacting. But since you're already back, you need to spend more time with Serena." Ethan nodded in agreement. 3 For the entire ride back to our penthouse, I didn't dare say a word. I drafted a dozen apologies in my head, only to swallow them back down every time. I was stressing so much my face probably looked like a wrinkled prune. When Ethan, pulling his suitcase with one hand and loosening his tie with the other, headed straight for the master bedroom, I finally snapped out of it and blocked his path. Under his confused gaze, I explained awkwardly: "The room is a bit messy. You should go shower in the guest room first, and I'll bring your luggage in for you." It was more than "a bit messy." There was absolutely nothing belonging to Ethan in that master bedroom. He only came back to sleep here one night a year. The last time he was here, the moment he left for the airport on New Year's Day, I packed up all his belongings and threw them into the guest room. "I'm just going to change my clothes and leave. I have a business dinner in a bit." Ethan truly was a workaholic. Even though it was already nine o'clock at night, and he had only been back just long enough to take the blame for my prank, he had already scheduled a business meeting. He easily sidestepped me and pushed open the door to the master bedroom. By the time I reacted, it was too late. Ethan stood at the entrance of the massive walk-in closet, staring in absolute silence at the mountains of women's clothing from every season. "Where are my clothes?" I laughed nervously. "I... I sent them out to be dry-cleaned and maintained. When they were delivered back, the staff didn't know, so they accidentally put them in the guest room. I haven't had time to move them back yet." I didn't expect this pathetic lie to fool Ethan. He just gave me a deep, unreadable look, took off his suit jacket, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his dress shirt. It was like he had stripped off his cold, elite exterior. For a brief second, I caught a glimpse of the reckless, youthful Ethan I used to know. The doorbell rang. The next second, Ethan's secretary walked in with several people, carrying large and small boxes into the apartment. When I finally saw what was inside those boxes, the room spun. My karma had finally arrived. Ethan appeared behind me, gesturing with his chin toward the boxes of red and green grapes. "Eat. Since you love them so much, this time, you're going to eat until you drop." I wanted to cry. "I'm sorry." His face was as cold as ice. "I'll be back in two hours. You can finish them all by then, right?" When Ethan returned from his business dinner, the apartment was in chaos. The housekeeper was busy moving his belongings back into the master bedroom, while I was squatting in the living room, frantically stuffing grapes into my mouth. I really tried my best. I managed to finish half a box. I thought that showing genuine effort would at least earn me a sliver of forgiveness. But when he saw my cheeks bulging with grapes, his expression grew even colder. He had clearly been drinking. His breathing wasn't as steady as it had been two hours ago. He walked up and looked down at me. "Serena, where is your brain?" Honestly, no matter how bossy I acted behind his back these past three years, the moment I was in front of Ethan, I couldn't help but cower. After all, when you have a guilty conscience, you're always afraid of getting caught. "But I really tried my best! I seriously can't finish them." I was so pathetic! I sounded so weak, my voice was literally trembling. He reached out to pull me up, his brow furrowed deeply. "Get up. Go wash up and go to sleep." He was letting me off the hook. I let out a massive sigh of relief and practically skipped to the bathroom. But the moment I laid down in bed, karma struck again. In just one short hour, I had to run to the bathroom three times. Ethan, sleeping next to me, finally lost his patience. Resigned to his fate, he got out of bed, threw on some clothes, and grabbed a cashmere blanket to wrap me tightly over my pajamas. "Get up. We're going to the hospital." I was so weak and dehydrated from diarrhea that I couldn't even stand up straight. I waved him off weakly. "It's fine. I'll just find some stomach medicine." Ethan's patience had entirely run out. Ignoring my protests, he scooped me up into his arms. The last time I was this physically close to him was on our wedding day. 4 The wedding was entirely planned by our in-laws. The Thorne family favored traditional ceremonies, so everything from the bridal pickup to the reception was very grounded and classic. At 9:00 AM, the designated auspicious time, I sat drowsily on the edge of the bed. The priceless diamond tiara on my head was so heavy I could barely breathe. The sound of festivities grew louder. Surrounded by a crowd of groomsmen, Ethan calmly and flawlessly passed all the ridiculous "tests" my bridesmaids had set up. That day, he actually had a smile on his face. In a daze, I almost forgot that this was supposed to be a dull, arranged corporate marriage. When he finally found my hidden bridal shoe, the way he picked me up was incredibly gentle and reverent. Amidst the cheering crowd, a suspicious hint of red crept up the tips of his ears. For a moment, I forgot all our past grudges. Leaning against his chest, my heart pounded like a drum. That was the only moment of genuine warmth in our three years of marriage. When the driver pulled the car around today, Ethan had already been holding me at the entrance of our building for ten minutes. Miraculously, my churning stomach quieted down for those ten minutes. I felt incredibly warm. Because we had been holding the same position for so long, I tried to shift slightly in his arms. He looked down at me. The night was too dark for me to see his expression clearly, but I felt the arm around my waist pull me even tighter against him. I gathered my courage, raised my arms to wrap around his neck, and rested my head on his shoulder. "When is the driver getting here?" "Almost." His voice was right next to my ear, his breath brushing against my skin, tickling me like a feather. Being young and impulsive, my heart was effortlessly stirred with thoughts I definitely shouldn't be having. This highly inappropriate fluttering feeling lasted until the next day. The following morning, my face flushed as I reminisced about the decidedly not-safe-for-work dream I had the night before. I pushed open the bedroom door and walked out. The male lead of my dream was sitting in the living room wearing loungewear, a laptop balanced on his knees, looking intensely focused. "Why are you still here?!" My voice pitched up in shock, sounding a bit grating. "Serena, my name is also on the deed to this apartment." I knew I had misspoken, so I quickly tried to explain while calming my racing heart. "No, that's not what I meant. I mean, aren't you going back?" "Back where?" "Dubai." It had been three years. I had never, ever woken up the next morning to find Ethan still in the apartment. He kept looking at his laptop and replied coolly, "I'm taking a vacation. For a month." I was shocked beyond belief. Ethan, the CEO of a multinational conglomerate, with a million things on his plate, right in the prime of his career, taking a one-month vacation? It felt incredibly extravagant. When Chloe heard my rant, she bravely defended Ethan: "Even a dog would shake its head at that! Machines get downtime for maintenance, but Ethan doesn't?" I replied in agony: "Do you know what this means?! It means I can no longer stay out all night! I have to come home for three meals a day on time and play the role of the perfect, dutiful wife!" Looking at the text message my mother-in-law just sent, I felt even more dead inside. "It also means I might actually have to give Ethan a baby!" My mother-in-law told us to "work hard" and said she believed in Ethan's abilities. I put my phone down and looked up, meeting Ethan's gaze. He had clearly just finished replying to our parents' messages too. His eyes held a rare hint of unnatural awkwardness. 5 Living alone with Ethan was awkward beyond description. Our only shared topic of conversation was that we went to the same Ivy League university. And in our only shared memories, I had repeatedly played him for a fool. After suffering through an entire day of awkward silence, I finally couldn't take it anymore and tried to break the ice. I carefully chose my words: "Um... do you remember..." Every single mutual topic we had was a landmine. I suddenly felt like I was being too reckless, but the words were already out. Ethan generously looked up and gave me his full attention. I braced myself and stepped right on the landmine. "Carter's kid... he's already two years old." Carter was the only son of the Carter family, a notorious playboy. In college, he worshipped the ground Ethan walked on, and his lifestyle was obscenely lavish. When our friend group used to get together, we would always bring him up, mocking him for slumming it with Ethan, saying he was useless and would probably die in a pile of women. Yet, out of everyone in our social circle, he was the first one to get married and the first to have a kid. When Ethan went abroad, Carter completely disappeared from our radar. The next time we heard about him, it was because he was marrying a young, brilliant university professor from a highly respected, academic family. It was an opulent, century-defining wedding that made everyone envious, giving their little-known, older-woman-younger-man romance the perfect happy ending. Ethan looked at me, seemingly speechless. He finally said, "Carter's son is my godson." My eyes widened in pure shock. "How did I not know this?" I realized with a jolt how terrible of a wife I was. My knowledge of his social circle was stuck in our college days. I thought everything had stayed in the past, and I knew absolutely nothing about his current life. Ethan casually dropped another bombshell. "And you are his godmother. For his one-month celebration, I gave him a solid gold lock on your behalf." So it wasn't like I had imagined. He didn't just come back once a year and essentially live permanently in Dubai. For Carter's son's one-month and two-year birthdays, Ethan had flown back personally, and even stopped by our apartment each time. It's just that our timing was terrible, and we never actually crossed paths. "On his first birthday, I called you to ask if you wanted to come with me." Before I could object, he continued: "A man answered the phone. He said you were sleeping and told me to screw off." I practically slid right off the sofa, my legs trembling and my heart hammering in my chest. Ethan, however, looked completely unfazed by the possibility that he had been cheated on, and gently helped me back up. "Listen to me, it's not what you think." No man would ever casually answer my phone, and I definitely wouldn't be sleeping next to another man. Except for one person: my younger cousin, Mason. He was two years younger than me. We grew up so close we practically shared everything. He wasn't my biological brother, but he might as well have been. Ethan knew Mason existed, but their only interaction happened back in college... when I dumped Ethan. To ensure my humiliation of him was complete, I chose to break up with him at Mason's birthday party. In front of everyone, the usually wild and arrogant young heir lost all his composure. He grabbed my hand, and his first instinct was to apologize. He had no idea what he had done wrong; he just desperately, humbly apologized and begged me not to end it. I impatiently shook off his hand, looking down at him with extreme arrogance. "Out of all the boyfriends I've had, you are the hardest to get rid of. A breakup is a breakup. I'm bored of you. Understand?" The scene was pure chaos. Looking back on it now, I genuinely felt like I couldn't breathe. Mockery and insults flew from every direction, piercing Ethan like knives. But his eyes were only on me. Even though so many people looked down on his background, he was always proud. He had this lazy, indifferent look in his eyes, and occasionally, when he felt like it, he would use his wealth to aggressively shut down the snobby cliques that tried to corner him. None of us wanted to admit it, but we—this group of people—didn't actually look down on him. We weren't isolating him. We were just deeply insecure that our status was being challenged by him, and we couldn't do anything about it. Wearing the crown of "old money," we were secretly jealous of Ethan's freedom and audacity. And no one wanted to admit that ever since Ethan beat a trash-talking rich kid half to death and then casually threw down a massive stack of cash to settle it, we had subconsciously started to fear him. The ability to force a powerful family's heir to swallow his pride and accept a payout—that required terrifying financial power. My harsh words struck a massive blow to Ethan. Someone laughed: "Look at him. He looks like an abandoned dog." Mason shoved his way to the front of the crowd, kicked the devastated Ethan to the ground, and laughed with his hands on his hips. "Who the hell do you think you are? You think you're good enough for my sister? We wouldn't even let you be her dog; you're bad luck." Given that background, I didn't even dare invite Mason to our wedding. "So, what is the truth?" Ethan looked at me, his tone perfectly calm. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I prepared for the worst. "That was Mason." Ethan's expression softened. It wasn't the angry, resentful reaction I had expected upon hearing his enemy's name. Instead, he seemed to suddenly relax, the tension leaving his face. "Okay, I understand." The storm I had braced myself for never came. Ethan answered a phone call. I sneaked a glance at him, and he caught me staring. The person on the other end seemed to be a close friend. The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. He kept his eyes on me, but said to the phone, "Yeah, she's home. Alright, let me ask her." I snapped back to reality when I heard him ask me: "Do you have any plans later? Let's go see our godson." Caught red-handed staring at him, I felt incredibly guilty. I nodded frantically, agreeing to whatever he said. 6 Carter should absolutely hate my guts. In college, he followed Ethan's every command. When I was dating Ethan, Carter treated me with the utmost respect, always greeting me with a huge smile. Later, when I teamed up with everyone to orchestrate that massive humiliation against Ethan, Carter stormed into my house, looking so terrifying I thought he was going to murder me. Somehow, he held back his rage. He just pointed at me and said, "Serena, don't you ever regret this." How could I not regret it? I regretted it to death. The moment Ethan was kicked out of Mason's party, I instantly regretted it. A spot in my chest went numb with pain, but I still had to force a smile and deal with the empty flattery of my friends. I fully expected Carter to give me the cold shoulder today. But the moment I stepped through his front doors, he and his wife were holding a little toddler, greeting us with warm smiles. Honestly, I knew almost everyone in the room by reputation. Every single one of them was a top-tier talent in their respective fields, armed with power and influence. Birds of a feather flock together. I thought about my group of aimless, partying friends, and for a moment, I felt so inferior I couldn't even lift my head. Someone joked, "When it comes to being protective of a wife, Ethan is on another level. It's been three years, and you finally bring her out for us to see." Ethan peeled an orange for me, meticulously removing the white pith. "Serena and I don't get to see each other much. Whenever I come back, I barely have enough time to spend with her. Why would I waste time on you guys?" Even though I knew he was just playing the part for the crowd, my heart still betrayingly started hammering against my ribs. I looked up at him, and he was looking back at me. His gaze was intense and gentle, just like it was all those years ago. Someone walked in. When he saw me, he froze for a second before easily falling into familiar banter. "Long time no see, sister-in-law. You're looking even more beautiful." I looked up at him, taking a long time to dig his identity out of my memory. He was Ethan's absolute best friend, Colin. They had known each other long before Ethan's family struck it rich. After graduating, he followed Ethan overseas as his right-hand man. He had fought his way up and was now a powerhouse executive in the Thorne empire. When we got married, he was still in Dubai managing the mines. So, this was our first time seeing each other in six years. I smiled back. "It really has been a long time." The little toddler, encouraged by his mom, waddled over to me. He timidly hugged my leg and handed me a paper airplane he had folded himself. "Godmother, you're even prettier than my mommy." Everyone burst out laughing. Blushing, I accepted my godson's gift and dug a piece of chocolate out of my purse for him. The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. Ethan stared at the chocolate in my hand, looking uncharacteristically distracted. The arrogant, eighteen-year-old Ethan had one fatal flaw: he was prone to low blood sugar. But he never cared. He still drank himself into a stupor every night. At the underground street racing tracks on the outskirts of the city, he would get behind the wheel of a supercar and slam the gas pedal like he had a death wish. While I was chasing him, I found out about this. I started stocking my purse with all kinds of snacks. Different types of candies, chocolates, and even a bottle of glucose water were always on hand. A dizzy, disoriented Ethan peeled open a candy I gave him, popped it into his mouth, and spit it out a second later. "Disgusting." I patiently offered him other options. "I have other brands. See which one you like?" "They're all disgusting." To capture his heart, I put in an insane amount of effort. I heard there was a private, artisanal chocolate shop in the UK famous for its handmade chocolates. I flew thousands of miles just to buy it, carefully protecting it all the way back to New York. Finally, I earned a genuine look of appreciation from Ethan. After that, I always kept it stocked in my bag. When we were dating, every time we met, the first thing I did was pop a piece of that chocolate into his mouth. The little toddler was a good kid who knew how to share. He broke off a piece and gave it to his mom. Carter's wife ate it and looked incredibly surprised. "I know this brand! But didn't the owner of this shop turn out to be an international fugitive? He got interviewed by local media because his chocolate was so good, which blew his cover, and he was arrested and sent to prison, right?" As soon as she said that, everyone turned to look at me. Back in college, Ethan used to brag endlessly. He told anyone who would listen that his girlfriend was the absolute best, flying to the UK once a month like clockwork just to buy his favorite chocolate. So almost everyone in the room knew the backstory. I laughed awkwardly. "Um, I actually made this myself." I didn't understand why, even after breaking up with Ethan, I kept up the habit of flying all the way to the UK to buy that specific chocolate. Until one day, I went back to the shop, and it was completely empty. The only person left was the fugitive's apprentice, sitting there crying over the recipe. I stayed in the UK for over six months. I enrolled in baking classes, visited every chocolate factory in the surrounding countries, and finally found a master chocolatier who could reverse-engineer and recreate the exact flavor. I learned the craft from him.
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