Intelligence Emotional

All the relatives knew I had a "backward cousin." For my birthday, she gave me a grocery-store pound cake. When I ran a marathon, she presented me with a pair of worn-out canvas sneakers. At my graduate school acceptance party, she even sent a funeral wreath of white lilies with a sash that read "In Sympathy," wishing me an early departure to the afterlife. In my previous life, I slapped her so hard she tumbled down the porch steps. My brother took her side and plotted revenge, falsely reporting to the university that I had cheated on my SATs. My admission was revoked. "You're so modern. You know how things work," he sneered. "Plenty of people take a gap year. Just apply again." My father also defended her, cutting off all my financial support. "You've had so much schooling. You're so educated," he said coldly. "Support yourself." Alone in a city eighteen hundred miles from home, I fought to survive. I called my brother and my father again and again—only to be blocked. I delivered food while renting a room and studying to reapply. At my lowest, my hands were raw and cracked from frostbite, scrambling for delivery shifts at four in the morning just to earn a small bonus. Worn down by the cold and exhaustion, I suffered cardiac arrest at twenty-three and collapsed in a snowdrift in that unfamiliar city. No one ever came to claim me. This time, I chose to let it go and accepted the wreath with a gracious smile. To fully integrate myself into this family. After all, what is a moment of pride compared to a lifetime's inheritance?

When I'm on my break, I decide to help my neighbor, Yvonne Cook, fix the gas valve, which has been leaking gas. But she instantly lodges a report, saying that I've gone against the rules. She demands compensation for the shock that she's suffered as well. I don't bother defending myself. Instead, I just write a reflection report. After that, my squad leader sentences me to disciplinary confinement. Yvonne wastes no time gloating in the tenants' group chat. "It's time to teach these power-abusers a good lesson, anyway!" Three days later, a fire breaks out in Yvonne's apartment. Thick plumes of dark smoke keep rising from the burning apartment. Yvonne wails as she bangs on my door and pleads with me. "Please crack open the door and put out the fire!" I can only sigh from behind my front door. "I'm under disciplinary suspension right now, so I can't break protocol. You should wait for the fire truck instead."

I knew perfectly well that people from the Emirates do not eat pork. Yet this time, I watched in silence as my husband's childhood sweetheart insisted on placing a pork dish on the table. In fact, I even supported her decision. In my past life, when our company hosted a welcome banquet for powerful investors from the Emirates, she had been desperate to flaunt her cooking. Against all reason, she forced a pork dish onto the menu. I stopped her then. I explained that pork was forbidden by religious belief, and that offending the investors could cost us everything. If they withdrew their funding, the company's finances would collapse overnight. She took my warning as jealousy. In a fit of rage, she ran out of the banquet hall and was struck by a car, leaving her in a permanent vegetative state. I thought my husband would break down. Instead, he remained calm, stayed through the dinner, and secured the investment in surprisingly calmness. The truth revealed itself later. After the company went public, he brought me abroad under the guise of business, only to drag me onto a medical ship in international waters. As my kidney was cut from my body, I cried and asked him why. His answer came with a slap. "If you hadn't been jealous back then... If you hadn't tried to sabotage her, she wouldn't have ended up like that." I died in agony on the operating table. After my death, he used the money from selling my organs to cure his beloved childhood sweetheart, and the two of them went on to live rich, comfortable lives together. And then I opened my eyes again, back to the very day she decided to serve pork to the clients.

The night I brought my boyfriend home to meet my parents, my dad insisted on playing cards with some relatives. When he came back, he collapsed to his knees in front of me, crying. Not only had he lost half a million dollars, but he had even gambled away my boyfriend to my cousin. He slapped himself and begged me for forgiveness. However, instead of yelling at him, I helped him to his feet. Then, I took out the savings I’d set aside for my future wedding and the deed to my house. “Let’s gamble one more time.”

The moment they released the year-end audit notice, I just stared in disbelief at the mention of my car, which I had paid for in full and in cash. It was boldly listed under the company’s fixed assets. “Our company practices a ‘family-friendly’ culture. What’s yours is the company’s. We’re a family. There’s no need to get picky about what’s yours or mine.” As if that was not enough, the company fired the driver and handed the chauffeuring duty to me. “Here’s the reception schedule for this month. Also, please pick up my dad at Babolle at 3 a.m. tonight.” My expression had darkened. Nonetheless, the human resources manager continued, “In a family, there’s no ‘yours’ or ‘mine’. My dad is your dad, right?” I was so furious that I almost exploded. ​ “I’m taking my car back, then!” She immediately took out a loan contract. “Simple. Pay by instalments. Work here for three years and you can ‘buy’ back your car.” So not only did I have to work as a driver for free, but I also had to pay to reclaim my car. Ever since the human resources manager parachuted in, she cut perks and cancelled vacations. She even started to dig into my wallet! “I quit!” She sneered. Then, she brandished a thick employee handbook. “Clause 1867 states that an employee who resigns of their own accord will need to pay double their salary. You’re under a six-month probation starting from now. Pass it, then you can leave.”

My wife and I slept in separate beds for over three years. Then on our wedding anniversary, she suddenly tried to win me over. She climbed into my bed and pulled out all the stops, trying to get me to sleep with her. I stayed calm and collected. When our son started crying, I used it as an excuse to escape to his room, where I stayed all night. Vivian Hartley spent the entire night knocking on the door. The next morning, she acted sweet and gentle, graciously making me breakfast as if nothing had happened. She even tried to hand over her salary card. When my mother-in-law heard about this, she exploded at her daughter. "You pathetic fool! People need some self-respect! If you can't stand up for yourself, just get a divorce already!" Yet Vivian claimed her feelings for me ran so deep that the heavens themselves could vouch for her sincerity. She even defied her own mother. Our relatives and friends looked at us with envy. But my son and I continued to give her the cold shoulder. Finally, Vivian turned to social media for help. "Three years ago, I was busy with work. My husband and I had completely different schedules. I was afraid it would affect my performance at work, so I suggested we sleep in separate rooms. "Now our child is older, and I've swallowed my pride to try to fix things, but my husband won't even touch me." Someone in the comments gave her some advice: install hidden cameras around the house. "We can't just take your word for it. Record everything so we can see what's really going on. Plus, if things actually end in divorce, at least you'll have built up your social media following. It won't be a total loss." Vivian had no idea I was watching from among her followers.

The newly hired genius programmer was a proud woman who always thought she could turn the entire industry on its head. When an investor tried to pressure her into drinking, she flipped the table and slapped him across the face. "My worth is in my programming skills, not my ability to network. Asking me to drink with you is an insult." Enraged, Clint Warner immediately withdrew the eighty-million investment agreement. He even swore he would never work with us again. As the Head of Product, I scrambled to apologize. The situation was only salvaged after I drank so much that I ended up hospitalized. … Later, I complained to the boss and demanded that he discipline the new hire. To my shock, he dismissed the matter. "If the employee causes any problem, it's because the supervisor failed in their duty. The promised million-dollar dividend bonus is cancelled. Take this as your warning." Fed up, I wrote down Mary Hansen's name on the Counseling-Out List. She couldn't care less. "I have abilities you’ll never match, unlike a scheming bootlicker like you. If anyone tries to go after me, the project will be halted. Don't come crying to me when everything collapses." I did not argue with her then. However, when the Counseling-Out List was announced, I found my own name on it. The boss claimed it was a mistake to force me to leave. Then he promoted Mary to my position and even granted her the authority of a vice president. "You were only great because of the company's support. Mary's not the same. She's young and truly talented. She’ll lead us to greater heights." With a cold smirk on my face, I made my way to our competitor, taking the crucial piece of our company's technology with me.

Our Black Friday sales broke ten million. I allocated a budget of $100,000 and told my deputy to organize a celebration dinner for the team. However, after the party ended, everyone in the team looked at me in disdain. I only realized the reason when I heard their complaints in the break room one day. “Ms. Heaton is such a cheapskate. We made ten million in sales, and she treated us with a $3.99 budget takeout for the celebration.” “Seriously, I heard from Ms. Reiser that Ms. Heaton kept the money for herself! She just didn’t want to spend it on us.” My assistant even showed me a post circulating online, accusing me of exploiting employees and lining my own pockets. I summoned my deputy manager, Casey Reiser, to my office. She fell to her knees in tears and confessed everything. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Heaton! My daughter needed emergency heart surgery. In a moment of weakness, I misused the funds!” However, I had clearly seen her daughter sign up for a dance class just yesterday! Since everyone was so quick to judge without knowing the truth, I would retract the team’s monthly budget of one million then!

As I secured the safety rope, I discovered that the metal clip had been replaced with a flimsy plastic ring. My girlfriend, already on the soft ladder, dismissed my concern casually. "Ryan has got a ton of luggage. One clip isn't enough to keep it secure, so I gave him yours. Just wait for the next trip." In desperation, I pointed to the floodwaters surging past my chest. "But I can't swim!" "Cut the drama, okay?" she huffed. "You're a swimming champ. What's the big deal about treading water for a bit? Ryan is related to my boss, and if anything happens to him, my promotion is down the drain. Can't you be reasonable?" "Is his luggage more important than my life?" I shot back, lunging for the ladder. But she kicked me away. "I've checked. The water won't rise too fast. At worst, it'll reach your neck. You'll survive." Refusing to argue further, I watched the floodwaters rage higher and quickly pressed a special emergency beacon on my wrist.

In the biggest bar of Gryndon, my younger sister, Evonne Bradford, is tossed onto the middle of the stage like a plaything. The men beneath the stage keep arguing with each other. At the moment, Evonne's complexion is as pale as a sheet. She can only stare at her fiance, Simon Scottman, in disbelief, who's sitting in the middle of the bar. "Simon, I'm your fiancee! How could you treat me like this?" Simon leans over to kiss the dainty-looking woman in his arms on the lips. Then, he shoots Evonne a cold look. "You don't even know who took your virginity, yet you still have the guts to question me?" The woman in Simon's arms just titters delicately, but the contempt in her eyes is plain to see when she looks at Evonne. Meanwhile, I sit in my booth, my gaze already icy. All it takes is three years of my absence in this country, and already someone dares to harm a member of the Bradford family.