"Uncle, please don’t get married, okay?"

"I am adopted, we have no blood relation. I can still give you a baby..."

"Hmm..." The man’s low voice echoed in the room.

Then came the unmistakable sounds of pleasure, weaving together in betrayal.

The man who swore he loved me was now indulging in the filthiest act with his so-called niece.

I collapsed to the floor, my hands covering my face as if that could block out the unbearable pain slicing through my chest. My heart felt like it was being carved apart, piece by piece.

I wanted to believe I had seen wrong, that my eyes had deceived me.

But no matter how much I wished otherwise, I would recognize that man even if he turned to ashes.

The naked figure on the screen was my fiancé—the one who once called me his everything.

The seductive, sickening sounds drilled into my brain, making me tremble in despair.

Then, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly rang out:

"Host, this novel follows a controversial forbidden love plot. The male protagonist must adhere to the predetermined story. Do you choose to forgive? If you do, a future of happiness awaits. If not, you will disappear—and perhaps even meet a tragic end—in ten days."

Ten days later, I truly disappeared.

And Marcus went insane.

——

On the giant screen at the city’s downtown plaza, an interview played:

"Mr. Rivers, I heard you love your fiancée deeply. That she is your salvation, your first love."

Marcus' handsome face softened into a gentle smile. "Yes, all my desires—for life, for love—stem from her."

The host smiled warmly. "You’ve been together for eight years. When you proposed, you gave her a fleet of cars filled with engagement gifts and even bought the world’s most expensive pink diamond. You treat Miss Hayes like royalty. Fans call you the ‘Perfect Husband’..."

Online comments flooded the screen:

"Oh my god, the way he talks about her—he’s so devoted!"

"I’d trade ten years of my life to meet a man this loyal!"

"I bet Miss Hayes won’t even be able to get out of bed after marriage! Hahaha, he’s too good..."

Blessings and envy filled the air.

I lowered my gaze, forcing a bitter smile.

As I passed by a trash bin, I tossed in the diamond ring I had once cherished.

That evening, Marcus came home carrying a small, delicate cake from the bakery at the east side of the city—my favorite.

It always took at least an hour in line to buy one.

"Lila, I got your favorite strawberry cake today."

He smiled, setting it on the table before taking my hand and gently pulling me to sit beside him.

Every day, I received little surprises—roses, cakes, necklaces, cosmetics.

Marcus always found ways to make me smile.

"Try it quickly," he urged, scooping a piece of cake topped with strawberries and holding it to my lips. "I stood in line for two hours just to get this. I knew my little greedy cat would want a bite."

Mechanically, I opened my mouth.

But my gaze drifted to his collar—where a glaring red mark stood out against the crisp white fabric.

So intense. He must have enjoyed his forbidden love.

Niece versus uncle. The kind of scandal that novel readers would obsess over.

"Lila," he continued, his tone gentle, almost coaxing. "I was supposed to come home after three days, but something urgent came up at the company. I had to stay another two. I'm sorry, baby."

I turned my head away, my voice calm, indifferent. "It’s fine. You don’t have to explain your business trips to me anymore. Whether you come back or not—it doesn’t matter to me."

Because in ten days, I would be gone.

Gone from this house.

Gone from his life.

Whatever happened to him after that was none of my concern.

In the past, when he brought me gifts like this, I would have given him a sweet kiss in return.

But today, I didn’t.

And for the first time, he looked at me with a trace of dull confusion—like he couldn’t understand what had changed.

Marcus' heart clenched with unease.

He knew I had always been clingy, always longing for his presence. I must be upset, he thought—angry that he hadn’t been by my side these past few days.

"Lila, I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft, coaxing. "Please don’t be mad at me, okay? I swear I’ll never do this again. I’ve been working non-stop just so I could come back to you as soon as possible."

He smiled as he apologized, as if my unhappiness was a burden on his conscience.

Love?

Love.

At least, I had truly loved him once.

I still remember that night. A rainstorm poured over the city, and Marcus had come to pick me up from work. Out of nowhere, a car lost control and came hurtling toward us. In that split second, I thought I was going to die.

But before I lost consciousness, I saw him let go of the steering wheel—choosing to wrap his arms around me instead.

He shielded me with his body.

I walked away with nothing but a few scratches. He spent three days in a coma.

The man standing in front of me had once risked his life for me.

But so what?

Feelings shift in an instant. Love is a long, grueling battle. When you love someone, you would die for them. When you don’t, there’s nothing left—not even a shred of sincerity.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

If I weren’t set to leave in ten days, I wouldn’t even bother playing this game with him.

Looking at that affectionate yet hypocritical face, I forced a smile.

"Marc, you’re overthinking. I’m really not angry," I said lightly. "Tell me, which woman in this city wouldn’t envy me? When you proposed, fireworks lit up the entire skyline for three days. And at our restaurant, anyone who wished us well got a free meal, all at your expense."

Marcus' lips curled into a gentle smile. "Lila, I love you more than I love myself. Even if you wanted my life, I would give it to you."

He was still the same as before—putting on a show, making sure that no matter the setting, no matter the audience, his love for me appeared unwavering.

Just as he was about to lean in and pull me into his arms, I shoved him away, disgust curling in my stomach.

"I want to eat cake," I said flatly.

Marcus chuckled and playfully tapped my nose. "Don’t eat too much. I’m taking you to my mother’s house later."

"I already bought the gifts for you."

Every time we visited his mother, Marcus—the ever-filial son—would bring a pile of gifts and then tell her they were from me, her future daughter-in-law.

His mother neither liked nor disliked me. To her, whoever married her son would be family, as long as she could provide grandchildren.

She lived in the suburbs, in a farmhouse Marcus had bought for his parents. The elderly couple preferred a quiet life in the mountains, tending to their vegetable garden and raising chickens in the spacious yard.

As soon as our car stopped, Vivian came bounding toward Marcus like an excited bird, throwing herself into his arms.

"Uncle, I missed you!" she whined, wrapping her arms around his waist, her voice dripping with sweetness.

The old lady beamed. "This girl is still as attached to her uncle as she was when she was little."

Marcus' face darkened. Annoyed, he pried her hands off him. "You’re not a child anymore. Move."

Vivian’s eyes filled with unshed tears, her lips trembling in a pitiful pout.

"Uncle, you’ve changed," she sniffled. "You used to love me so much! When that fat kid next door bullied me, you beat him up for me. You promised you’d always take care of me! But now… now that you have her, you don’t love me anymore?"

She shot me a resentful glare.

Marcus' expression turned cold in an instant. "Vivian, if you keep this up, I’ll have someone send you back to the mountains!"

"Apologize to your aunt!"

I stood there with my arms crossed, watching their ridiculous performance.

These two, who had already crossed every line of intimacy, were now pretending to be innocent in front of me.

Vivian, seeing Marcus' anger, bit her lip and whispered pitifully, "Aunt, I’m sorry."

I had no patience for their theatrics. Without a word, I turned and walked straight into the yard.

It was almost time.

Soon, I wouldn’t have to sit through this nauseating display of their twisted relationship.

At the dinner table, the old lady brought up the same topic as always—children.

"Lila, you're getting married soon. When do you plan to have children? When I was your age, Marcus' sister was already old enough to follow me to the fields."

Marcus' sister—Vivian’s mother.

I had heard the story before. After her parents passed away, Vivian moved in with her grandmother, living under the same roof as Marcus. He was eight years older, and with the old couple busy working all day, the responsibility of looking after her mostly fell on him.

Then he left for university, started a business, and barely returned home over the years.

The first reason was time.

The second—poverty.

He was so broke he couldn’t even afford the trip home.

When I first met him, he had just failed his first business venture. He was sleeping under a bridge, rummaging through trash for food.

All he had was a tattered black computer bag with an old, battered laptop inside.

That laptop held all his dreams.

He was the classic protagonist of this world—the self-made man from humble beginnings.

Then, a soft voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Grandma, she’s not the only one who can give Uncle a baby," Vivian whispered, her gaze flickering toward Marcus before quickly looking away.

I snapped back to reality, silently sipping my chicken soup. The chickens I raised myself—so even the broth tasted richer than anything outside.

Marcus' brows furrowed at her words. "My child will only be born by Lila."

Then, turning to his mother, he added, "Mom, stop pressuring Lila. We’re already planning for a baby. Maybe she’s already pregnant."

The old lady beamed with joy.

She eagerly ladled me another bowl of soup. "Lila, drink more! You’ll need the strength to give me a big, healthy grandson."

"Don’t worry about the wedding. Leave everything to Marcus. You just focus on resting and being a beautiful bride."

She was practically glowing, as if I were already pregnant.

What a joke.

"Grandma, I’ll go help at Uncle’s house!" Vivian chirped, her tone far too eager.

Ever since she moved to the city, she had been itching to live in our house.

"What can a child like you possibly help with?" The old lady muttered, debating whether to let her go.

Vivian pouted. "I’m not a child! I’ll be nineteen soon. I know how to pick a wedding dress, decorate the venue, even prepare a wedding speech—I’ve studied it all!"

Her eyes sparkled with excitement, as if she were the one getting married.

The old lady was so overjoyed she could barely keep her mouth shut.

"Alright, after your uncle gets married, it’s time for you to start thinking about love too. The old lady from next door has her eye on you—she wants to set you up with her grandson."

"Grandma, I already have someone I like," Vivian murmured, sneaking a shy glance at Marcus—so obvious she nearly said his name outright.

I nearly choked on my chicken soup.

Disgusting.

Marcus quickly handed me a glass of warm water, gently patting my back. "Lila, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

The old couple exchanged glances.

The old man, grinning ear to ear, took a big sip of wine.

They had been dreaming of a grandson for so long—how could they not be ecstatic?

The old lady smacked the old man’s arm with a scolding tone. "Drink less! You’ll be a grandfather soon."

At that, the old man quickly put down his glass. He had to quit drinking. He had to live long enough to meet his grandson.

Vivian suddenly muttered, "The chicken soup is too oily. I feel a little sick too."

No one responded.

No one cared.

The old lady, still buzzing with excitement, rushed to the kitchen and came back with a plate of freshly sliced lemons.

"Lila, eat something sour," she urged, her voice filled with old wives' wisdom. "Sour means a boy, spicy means a girl!"

Marcus, knowing full well that I hated lemons, gently pushed the plate aside.

"Mom, don’t worry," he said softly. "I’ll take good care of Lila."