I curled up into a ball in the cramped and dimly lit motel room. Piercingly cold winds entered through a gap in the window, filling my nose with a damp and moldy stench.

I was also once my parents' so-called "pride."

That year, the Gardner family's business reached a new high. My mother was busy with her career as a surgeon, while my father took over the legal matters at Gardner Corporation.

To maintain the family's reputation, they needed to have a flawless public image, which included having an intelligent daughter with presentable charity work.

Thus, they adopted Stella.

She was an academically high-performing girl with a meek image from the orphanage, making her the right fit for a charity documentary.

Back then, I was such a fool to have thought that having a younger sister would bring joy. In the end, she became my replacement.

She claimed that I cheated and my scholarship was taken away; she accused me of plagiarism and stole my thesis; she spread false rumors that I was mentally unstable, turning me into a monster at school.

I explained myself time and time again, only to be interrupted over and over.

From that day onward, I learned that I was no longer their flesh and blood.

The pain in my chest intensified so much that I almost couldn't breathe.

The doctor told me that I had less than a month to live. Today marked the 29th day since then.

I had a sudden urge to visit the sea. I recalled the time when I was young, sitting on a beach and watching the waves wash away my footprints.

That was my only memory that had not been tainted by those people. However, I couldn't even afford a train ticket to go to the beach.

I leaned against the icy wall and closed my eyes.

A knock came at the door.

I thought it was the owner of the motel, but I saw her—Stella—instead. She was in a beige-colored coat, and her hair was curled to utter perfection.

She stood at the door, smiling and looking like she had just returned from the banquet.

"Winnie," she said, her tone soft yet edged with reproach. "Is this where you're staying? Oh my goodness, this place is tiny."

As she scanned the room, the grin on her face widened. She continued, "But it suits you quite well. It's quiet, and no one's here to bother you."

She walked into the room, staring at me condescendingly. "You look horrible," she remarked, shaking her head.

"If Zachary were to see you right now, he would probably feel for you.

"What I mean is that he'll pity you, not feel for you out of love."

I bit my lip and remained silent.

Suddenly, she bent forward, opening the bottle of medicine I had by my bed.

"Oh? You're still taking these?" She let out a scoff. "Vitamins? They're more like muscle relaxants."

I froze. She leaned forward and whispered in my ear in a tone so gentle, as if she were whispering sweet nothings. "Did you think that you failed to qualify as the wife of the head of The Falcons only because you're naturally weak?

"Truth be told, I was the one who made it such that you failed to qualify. Your hands shook, and you missed your targets during each physical training because I drugged you."

"I made you weak, dull-witted, and vulnerable… All because I wanted Zachary to feel like you weren't good enough to him or worthy to be called the wife of their family's mafia boss."

She patted my face gently as her eyes twinkled with glee. "It's such a pity that he still married you even though you're so weak that you failed their qualification tests three years in a row. That was really a surprise."

My throat was so dry that it was almost impossible for me to say a word.

Stella smiled and continued criticizing, "Though it was fortunate that he couldn't announce your marriage publicly because the Hoods cannot accept such a weak and incapable woman into their family. All they could do was wait till you were 'qualified' before they made their announcement.

"However, you—the mafia boss's secret wife—are about to die. You won't live to see the day when you are acknowledged publicly.

"After your death, the position of the mafia boss's wife will be mine."

She paused, as if she were reminiscing about something. In a sweet tone, she asked, "Do you know what my favorite thing is?

"It's to see that look on your face when you're misunderstood. You cry, explain, and plead with them to believe you. But you don't know that I'm the only one they trust."

She straightened her back and looked down at me.

"Mom, Dad, Zachary, and everyone in the Gardner family… I will be the only one they remember. Your existence is just a joke."

She turned around and headed to the door. "Don't worry. I will take good care of them on your behalf. At your funeral, my tears will also be the most genuine of them all."

The moment the door closed, a gust of wind blew into the room. I sat there quietly, reaching for my phone under my pillow with my trembling fingers.

A red dot on the screen continued to blink. The audio recording was complete.

I pressed the "stop" button and saved the audio file. Then, I opened my list of contacts.

The Gardner family's group, Zachary, reporters, and everyone else who once blocked me. I selected each and every one of them and sent the file.

The howling of the wind became louder and louder as I leaned against the wall, my breathing becoming shallower and shallower.

The glow of my phone screen illuminating my face was the last bit of warmth I had. I uttered so softly that I could barely even hear my voice, "Stella, you've won."

Snow fell on the windowsill as I closed my eyes.

The world finally went quiet.