Pov Story

Once again, my wife, Claire Winters, stabbed me with a silver needle. A reporter tracked me down and asked, "Louis Sterling, wasn't your wife, Claire, one of the winners of the National Inspiration Awards from ten years ago? She won the reward for saving you during the earthquake and ending up paralyzed from the waist down, right?" I stayed quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Louis, we're from a TV station, and we're producing a tenth anniversary special about the earthquake." I rubbed my arm, which was covered in tiny needle marks, and looked her straight in the eye. I replied, "That's fine, but can you keep the cameras discreet? Claire isn't used to being in front of so many lenses." However, I never expected that on the very first day of the live broadcast, I would be dragged onto the trending charts and torn apart online.

One day, I come across a post on the Internet. The original poster keeps boasting about the fact that all three children belonging to his older brother are actually his spawn. "The funniest thing is, there was once when he suspected the origins of his children. So, he got someone to take the children to take a paternity test. "Guess who he ordered? That's right—it's me, his most trusted younger brother! I get to sleep with his wife whenever I want. The money he earns all goes to my sons. This means he's working for me for the rest of his life! "Just the thought of that makes me happy to no end! Ahahaha!" But the thing is, I'm the older brother who's mentioned in the post.

On the day I get buried alive by the avalanche, my biological older sister, Whitney Linder, cuts off the safety rope wrapped around my waist in order to save Cameron Linder, the fake heir who has replaced me all these years. The snow is about to cover my head, and I can feel my warmth rapidly draining from my body. In despair, I begin screaming at Whitney. "Don't leave me behind, Whitney! Otherwise, my adoptive father's subordinates will settle the score with you by blasting the entire mountain into pieces!" Over the years since I get accepted back into the elite Linder family, I've been keeping up a cowardly and docile facade. Never have I ever mentioned my adoptive parents, who live abroad. Because of that, the Lindens have no idea that the married couple who have adopted me are actually the leaders of an international mercenary squad. My adoptive dad is a legendary sniper, whereas my adoptive mom is a demolitions expert. I'm the apple of the entire squad's eye. But Whitney pulls back the severed rope with a cold chuckle. "Keep dreaming, Skylar! You're just a country bumpkin who lies all the time, so you definitely don't have any powerful subordinates! You should be grateful to me for taking you here for a skiing trip without complaining about how much you embarrass me in public! "To think that you actually have the guts to fight for a chance of survival with Cameron! Don't you know that he mustn't suffer from any shock at all?" After that, Whitney leaves with Cameron in tow. "Since your adoptive parents are that amazing, why don't you get them to fly over in a helicopter to rescue you?" When the light above my head vanishes, I use what little strength I have to press the red button on the satellite-based GPS. What Whitney doesn't know is that she will die in the mountain once the signal is sent out.

At the beginning of a new year, I stay at the hospital to take care of my mother-in-law on my own. My wife, Yelena Lipton, on the other hand, is on a vacation with her first love, Phillip Warren, in a tropical island overseas. Funnily enough, I'm the last one who finds out about her impending marriage with Phillip. When my mother-in-law hears about the news, her condition deteriorates to the point she gets sent into the treatment room immediately. I have to call Yelena over a dozen times for her to finally pick up the call. "Do you have a death wish or something? Why did you bombard me with calls? I'm in the middle of something right now, so leave me alone!" After that, Yelena ends the call. Since then, I keep failing to get in contact with her. During that time, my mother-in-law has passed away from the treatment failure. When I'm done organizing the funeral, I send Yelena a divorce agreement right away. "Have you gone nuts? It's just an announcement to cheer Phillip up! Are you seriously going to file a divorce from me?" After hearing Yelena's accusations, I reply calmly, "Mom's dead. I've already dealt with everything concerning her passing. You should come back and visit her grave."

On the night I add my new girlfriend, Celia Spencer, into my group chat with my friends, my college roommate, Kevin Wright, suddenly posts more than a dozen screenshots in the group chat. Those screenshots feature the fragments of daily life I occasionally post on my social media feed. "Now here's where things get confusing. We only earn thousands of dollars per month. Where on earth did you get your money from in order to live such a lavish life? "I've been holding my tongue for far too long. At first, I intended to protect your pride. But now that you're dating such a wonderful, beautiful, and rich woman, I don't have the heart to see her getting lied to." In the end, Kevin tags Celia in the group chat. His words are filled with regret and pain. "Ms. Spencer, you're a rich scion, so you might not know anything about the bottom feeders' tactics. A fake scion like Luke who has racked up a huge online debt and brands his social media feed to look rich is very common in society! You have to keep your eyes open, you know! Take care not to get tricked by scammers!" As I suppress my anger, I respond with, "I never stole nor robbed from others! What's wrong with me spending my own money?" Kevin quickly retaliates with a lengthy audio message. "Your own money, you say? Your net worth isn't enough to afford even one segment of that luxury wristwatch in the photo! Why are you still pretending to be rich?" I just laugh in response. Does Kevin really think that rich people don't wear cheap stuff? What he doesn't know is that Celia, the so-called rich and beautiful woman he's trying so hard to kiss up to, is actually just someone I've hired to play the part. I'm the actual scion here, whereas Celia is just a fake heiress.

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."

When my wife brought her lover home for the fifth time, I decided enough was enough. I said nothing, not a word of complaint or protest. Instead, I superglued the windows shut and locked the bedroom door from the outside. From the bedroom came the muffled sounds of her little escapade, breathless and feverish, carrying through the walls like a shameful melody no one asked to hear. Calmly, I sat in the living room, picked up the phone, and called my mother-in-law. "Jessie," I said, putting on my best tone of urgency, "it's bad—real bad! Your daughter's locked herself in the bedroom and says she's gonna end it all!"

My dad is a fan of tough love parenting. When I was a kid, there was a time when I obtained full marks on two subjects. But he told me, "Your grades don't mean anything in life. If you were a true man, you'd leap down five floors without batting an eyelash." Some time later, I was awarded for my act of bravery. But Dad scoffed in my face. "Not even a hair is harmed on your head. Why should you be awarded anyway?" I thought Dad wanted me to go through more training in life. On Christmas Eve, he ditched me on a snowy mountain under the guise of wanting me to go through more training. He didn't give me a tent or a lighter. Later on, Dad even brags about his parenting method to his relatives and friends. "A real man should survive and thrive in a desperate situation! I told Julian that he can forget about being my son if he can't even make his way back to the summit!" But the red dot on the GPS tracker installed in his phone hasn't moved for the past three hours. The truth is, I've already frozen to death in the mountains. Trapped in my fist is a crumpled, torn scrap of paper. Meanwhile, my soul is currently floating above the dining table while watching Dad brag about his tough love parenting.

My wife, Heather Conner, secretly steals the funds I've saved up for our daughter, Naomi Hartman's surgery. After that, she books a high-class hotel for Jared Winters, the low-income student she has been sponsoring, just so she can celebrate his birthday with him. When I find out about it, I demand that Heather return all the money to me. But she slaps me immediately and blames me and Naomi for causing her trouble on purpose. "This is the first birthday Jared and I are celebrating together! Since it's such a big day, it's only natural that I hold it in a grand and lavish manner! "Instead, you two insist on undergoing that stupid surgery just when I've booked the hotel instead of scheduling it at any other time! You really are vile! "I've already inquired with the doctor about the surgery. Turns out it's completely optional! I might as well put the money to good use by giving Jared an unforgettable birthday instead of having you waste it on a useless surgery! "Even if Naomi does end up dying, that means she's fated to die anyway! You can't blame anyone for her death!" Heather just abandons Naomi, who's still fighting for her life. She then drives Jared to the hotel, where they spend the night watching a beautiful fireworks display. With 12 critical notices issued by the doctor in my hand, I kneel before Monica Brown, the richest woman in the city. "I'm willing to marry into your family as long as you pay me 35 thousand dollars' worth of wedding gifts!"

On the first day back after the New Year break, I returned to find my workstation gone—replaced by two large trash bins sitting side by side. "Josh, even though you've been with the company for ten years, you still have to comply with company arrangements. "You were supposed to be reassigned before the holiday. We held off so you could enjoy your New Year. You should be grateful." As he spoke, my boss pointed toward a corner beside the restroom. There sat a set of low, worn desk and chair—something that looked like it had been discarded by an elementary school. I set my bag on it. The desk wobbled twice, then collapsed outright. Amid the muffled snickers around me, I didn't argue or make a scene. I simply looked at the boss, calm and steady. "You don't have to go through all this trouble to force me out. I'll resign now. I'll forfeit the compensation—just process it as quickly as possible." His eyes lit up, though his face feigned regret. "Since you've made up your mind, there's not much I can say. But the Vespere chip you've spent ten years developing belongs to the company—you have no right to take it with you. "Oh, and when you handle the paperwork, don't forget to pay for that cup of coffee in your hand. It's an employee benefit. As an outsider now, you'll have to cover the cost." I nodded and signed the termination agreement without resistance. But the moment I stepped out of the company, I activated the self-destruct program embedded deep within the chip's core.