During dinner, I browsed a popular forum where a trending post caught my eye: “The woman funding my education is kind, but I want to marry her husband and replace her. Any foolproof methods?” I clicked the top comment: “Create dependency. First, offer to cook and clean at her house to show you’re the perfect homemaker.” “Then, arrange to stay overnight—say the dorms are locked. Wear something subtle. Wake up early and make breakfast.” “Key step: Pretend to be drunk. Cry about being alone. See if he hugs you out of pity.” The manipulative advice sickened me. I looked up at Ivy Chen, the girl I sponsor, sitting across from me. She sweetly placed food on my plate. “You have to try this, Mary! I should cook for you more often!” She suddenly put down her chopsticks, eyes shining. “My dorm has such an early curfew… Next time I clean your house, if it’s late, could I stay over?” 1 I was stunned for a moment. Then I asked her, “Why the sudden request to stay over? I haven’t heard you mention any issues with your dorm before.” “Besides, the guest room hasn’t been tidied in a while. It might not be very comfortable for a sudden stay,” I said, instinctively glancing at my husband, who was eating quietly beside me. I had been sponsoring Ivy’s education for four years, from high school through college. Whenever she’d come over for dinner in the past, she was always impeccably polite, always taking her leave right after the meal, never overstepping any boundaries. This sudden request was deeply out of character. Hearing my hesitation, Ivy immediately turned to my husband, Marcus, her expression a carefully crafted mask of grievance and dependence. Her voice was soft and pleading. “Marcus, it’s… it’s my new roommate. I don’t think she likes me. She’s always trying to exclude me, and if I get back late, they won’t open the door… I really had no other choice but to ask you and Mary for help…” As she spoke, she shot a timid glance back at me. “Just for one night, I promise. I’ll be on my best behavior. I can even help you clean the house!” My suspicions lessened slightly, but I was still hesitant. It took me a moment to respond. “Well… Marcus would have to agree to it as well.” I tossed the decision into his court. At my words, a flicker of triumph, almost imperceptible, flashed in Ivy’s eyes. She turned to my husband with an expectant look. Marcus put down his fork and knife, offering a gentle but distant smile. “Ivy, if you’re having problems in the dorm, you should report them to the university. Having a guest stay over unexpectedly would disrupt Mary’s rest. It’s not very convenient for us.” His refusal was what I expected. He has always valued our privacy and my comfort above all else. Disappointment and embarrassment instantly washed over Ivy’s face. She lowered her head and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Marcus. I wasn’t thinking. It was too much to ask…” The way she acted would make anyone think I was being unreasonable. Just then, that nagging feeling of unease returned, stronger this time. Staying the night? Her reaction after being rejected? This scenario… how was it so eerily similar to the “play the victim to gain sympathy after being rejected” tactic predicted in that forum post? My gaze sharpened as I looked at Ivy’s crestfallen face. A terrifying thought shot through my mind. Could it be… could the person who wrote that post actually be her? But I dismissed the thought a second later. I’d watched Ivy grow up. She came from a poor family but was hardworking and ambitious. She was a simple girl. How could she possibly harbor such deep-seated malice and cunning? I was letting the internet get to me, on the verge of misjudging a helpless young woman. I was about to say something to ease the tension. Just then, Ivy, seemingly flustered by the rejection, hastily stood up to clear my plate in a gesture of appeasement. As she reached for the soup bowl in front of me, the wide sleeve of her loose-fitting blouse fell away from her arm. And in that split second, I saw it clearly— On her slender wrist was an incredibly familiar platinum bracelet. The charm was a small, elegant star and moon. It was the gift my husband had given me for my birthday last month! I had complained at the time that his taste was a bit basic, wore it only once, and then put it away in my jewelry box. Later, I couldn’t find it anywhere! He’d just said I must have misplaced it and promised to buy me a better one next time. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. The blood in my veins seemed to freeze, my hand holding my fork hovering motionless in mid-air. Could it be… That the bracelet was never lost at all?! And now, here it was, on Ivy’s wrist, hidden so carefully under her sleeve like a cherished secret. Was she really the one who wrote that post, the one who wanted to take my place?! Was she and my husband… 2 The moment Ivy went to the restroom, I unlocked my phone and pulled up the forum post. The original poster had just updated it a few minutes ago: “Got rejected on the sleepover plan. I think the sister is getting a little suspicious, but I played the victim card perfectly, and she’s a total softie. I’ll find another chance soon!” My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. I kept scrolling and saw several new comments. After the update, many users were even more furious: “OP, are you psychotic? She’s paying for your education, and you’re plotting to steal her husband?” “I’m actually sick to my stomach. This isn’t just an ungrateful leech; this is a black widow.” “Please, God, let the sister see this post! This kind of backstabbing monster deserves to burn!” But the original poster showed no remorse. Instead, she replied with smug satisfaction: “What do you people know? Sponsoring me is just her way of feeling superior!” “Why does she get to have everything just by being born? While I have to claw my way up for everything? Her husband is incredible, and she doesn’t deserve him!” “I’m going to take away the most important thing in her life, so she can finally know what it feels like to lose something! Watching her suffer will make me happy!” “Just you wait. It’s only a matter of time before her husband sees how amazing I am. These rich, goody-two-shoes housewife types are so boring.” The more I read, the colder I felt, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. At that moment, I was one hundred percent certain. The person who wrote this was Ivy. Just as she’d said, I came from a wealthy family and had lived a charmed life. Sponsoring her was a genuine desire to help a hardworking kid change her fate. It was because of this unconditional kindness that I couldn't comprehend her darkness, her resentment, her elaborate scheme to destroy my family. This sudden betrayal was a knife to my heart, leaving me cold and aching. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. Hearing the toilet flush, I quickly exited the page, locked my phone, and placed it face down on the table, struggling to compose my expression. I made a decision in an instant. I had to not only crush her ambitions but also re-evaluate this entire “sponsorship” relationship. Just as I steadied myself, Ivy returned from the restroom. She sat back down, her face once again adorned with that pure, innocent smile, as if the person spewing venom online wasn't her. “Mary,” she said sweetly, her eyes darting toward my husband. “Marcus just agreed to help me with my coursework this weekend! Right here, in the study! I might be bothering you again!” She looked at me expectantly, waiting for my enthusiastic approval. But now, her smile and her words sounded like a calculated provocation. Suppressing the waves of nausea and rage, I spoke in a calm voice. “Ivy, I’m afraid this weekend won’t work.” “What?” The smile on Ivy’s face froze, her voice involuntarily rising. She quickly realized her mistake and softened her tone. “W-why not, Mary? It’ll just be for a little while, I won’t take up too much time…” I picked up a napkin and dabbed my lips, avoiding her seemingly innocent gaze. “It’s nothing. Marcus and I just have other plans this weekend. It’s not a good time.” At my words, the smile vanished completely from Ivy’s face, replaced by a look of aggrieved disappointment and simmering resentment. “But… Marcus already promised me…” she mumbled, her tone dripping with complaint. “Mary, why are you… suddenly changing your mind…” In the past, whenever she wore that expression, I would soften and try to accommodate her requests. After all, she was the “little sister” I had cared for for four years. But now, seeing her true colors, I realized what kind of viper I had been nurturing with my kindness. My heart was ice. Without looking at her, I turned to my husband. “Didn’t we have plans to go to that art exhibition this weekend? The tickets were so hard to get.” Marcus paused for a beat, then immediately caught on, nodding in agreement. “Right, we do. Ivy, we can talk about your coursework some other time.” Seeing this, Ivy’s expression grew even more sullen. She opened her mouth to argue. I didn’t give her the chance. I picked up my bag and stood. “It’s getting late, and you have classes tomorrow, don’t you? You should head back to school and get some rest. The driver is waiting downstairs to take you back.” Without a second glance at her instantly pale face, I linked my arm through my husband’s. My tone was light but firm. “We’ll see Ivy out.” It wasn’t until I was home that I opened the forum post again. A notification popped up: “A thread you are following has a new reply…” Ivy had updated it again. 3 “She actually refused! What do I do, everyone?! The plan is stalled!” “I have to get close to the husband! Please, I need ideas!!!” Aside from the usual crowd of gawkers, the original user who had provided the detailed “strategy” reappeared. “Why are you so obsessed with this one guy?” “Can’t you just find a different target? It’s not like he’s the only rich man in the world.” Ivy’s reply was immediate and agitated: “No! I want him! It will only hurt her the most if I take what’s hers!” “You should have seen her at dinner, with that condescending, holier-than-thou attitude, the way she gloated when she talked about her husband. It was disgusting!” “I am going to crush her.” I stared at every word Ivy typed, the last embers of responsibility and warmth I felt for her completely extinguished. After that, the user didn't reply publicly. Their conversation moved to private messages. After my shower, I checked the post again and saw that Ivy had updated her status, her tone now jubilant: “All set! Thanks to the master for the private message! This weekend is a go!” Seeing this, I was confused. Had she taken the advice and switched targets? As I was pondering this, I noticed over a dozen missed calls and several text messages on my phone, all from Marcus. I had been so engrossed in the post that I’d completely missed them. I opened the messages, and my heart sank. Marcus: “Honey, what’s going on? Ivy just added me on social media. She said you wanted her to come over this weekend to get help with a class project and needed to use the computer in the study. She’s asking if it’s okay.” Marcus: “Why aren’t you answering your phone? She seems pretty insistent.” Marcus: “Look, I know she’s the student you sponsor, and she’s been over before, so I didn’t think much of it. I replied and told her ‘Whatever works for you is fine…’” I was furious. I couldn't believe Ivy’s audacity—going behind my back to contact my husband directly and daring to lie about my intentions. I was about to call him back when he walked through the door. In the living room, I struggled to contain my anger as I asked him why he would agree without checking with me first. Marcus looked utterly innocent and confused. “Weren’t you the one who always told me how sensible and hardworking she is, and that we should help her out? She said it was your idea, and she sounded urgent. I couldn’t reach you, and it didn’t seem like a big deal, so I just said yes…” Hearing him, a mix of emotions churned inside me. For years, I had indeed painted a picture of Ivy as a diligent, grateful student. Whenever she needed a textbook or study materials, I had Marcus find the best ones for her. Whenever she needed a “parent” to handle minor issues at the university, I often had Marcus take care of it. Looking back, my unconditional trust and support had probably given her the confidence to be so brazen. I took a deep breath and told him everything—about the forum post and everything I had discovered. As he listened, his expression darkened into a mask of cold fury. He immediately took out his phone and, right in front of me, blocked Ivy’s number and all her social media profiles. “I never would have added her if it wasn’t for you. From now on, don’t ask me to help with her problems.” “As for this weekend, you tell her no. I will not have any more contact with her.” “Now that you know what kind of person she is, you need to cut her off completely. All of it—the sponsorship, the contact, everything.” I nodded. I immediately found Ivy’s number and called. The moment she answered, I told her directly that the weekend was not convenient and that she was not to contact my husband again. She was stunned by my firm tone at first, but then she immediately launched into her well-rehearsed act, her voice cracking with tears. “Mary… what’s wrong? Did I do something? I just want to do well in my classes… I really didn’t mean anything by it…” “I’m just so stupid, I’m falling behind, and I have no one to ask for help, so I thought of Marcus… I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…” I listened to her performance coldly, completely unmoved. When she had nearly finished, I replied with a single sentence: “You’ve made your bed.” Then I hung up.
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