After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away.

My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them.

But they laid down three conditions.

First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell.

Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him.

Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian.

"My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?"

My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf.

But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits.

Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time.

Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight.

Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to.

I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom."

Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence.

By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on.

For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement.

But my son just sneered.

"It's just another stunt to win our sympathy."

When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground.

"Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?"

Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.]

I let out a quiet laugh.

"Not tired at all."

And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

As the icy water rushed over my face, the bone-chilling cold seeped into every limb.

My body ached.

But I felt only relief.

I closed my eyes and waited for the suffocation to take me—when suddenly, a hand with brutal force grabbed me from behind and yanked me back to the edge.

Through blurred vision, I saw Nathan Hartwell's eyes rimmed red. His voice carried a tremor he didn't even seem to notice.

"I said a few words to you—was that really worth going this far?"

He reached out to carry me to the private doctor.

But the moment his fingers brushed my soaked clothes, Vivian Gray's sobs cut through the air like a knife.

Tears streamed down her face. She looked so fragile, a gust of wind could have knocked her over.

"Elena, if you resent me, if you hate me—come at me. Why do this to yourself?

"I've felt guilty ever since we sisters got separated as children, and you ended up in that life. Seeing you like this now just breaks my heart..."

She reached out to steady me.

Afraid she might cry again, Nathan softened his voice and said, "This isn't your fault. Don't blame yourself."

Then he instinctively stepped aside to make room for her.

But the moment Vivian's fingers brushed my sleeve, she lurched violently.

She let out a sharp gasp as she tumbled straight into the pool.

At the same time, a crisp slap cracked across my cheek. My face instantly burned with searing pain.

I looked up and met the fury in my son Nathan Jr.'s eyes.

Seeing me stare at his raised left hand, the teenager froze for a split second, then sneered, "Mama Viv was just trying to help you, and you were cruel enough to push her in—you deserved that!"

By then, Nathan had already dove into the water, cradling the sopping wet Vivian tightly in his arms.

When he turned to look at me, the cold in his gaze could have frozen me solid.

"Five years in the Hartwell house, and you haven't changed one bit! You want to die? Then go ahead—jump! I won't stop you this time!"

I knew he was speaking in anger, but I couldn't find it in me to smile.

By now, I was long used to these men—father and son—blindly blaming me, always taking her side.

I didn't lose my mind like I would have five years ago.

I just braced myself against the stone edge of the pool and, under their icy stares, dove again, straight into the deepest end of the three-meter pool.

"Elena!" Nathan's voice cracked as he shouted my name, his instinct to save me kicking in.

But then Vivian's faint cough and soft sobs reached his ears. "Everyone says Elena is such a strong swimmer... why is she putting on this act..."

Watching my motionless figure sinking beneath the surface, Nathan froze mid-step. His face darkened to an ugly shade.

"Nobody move! Let's see if she actually has the nerve to go through with it!"

After barking that warning at the staff, Nathan scooped up Vivian and walked away without so much as a backward glance.

He forgot—I'd told him countless times before: I've been terrified of water since I was a child. I can't swim.

Nathan Jr. didn't leave right away. He just stared coldly at the water and said, "Mom, it'd really be better if you just died. That way, I'd only have one mom—Mama Viv."

His words pierced through the layers of blue water and drilled into my ears. The suffocation was overwhelming. Even my heart felt heavy and raw.

But still, I didn't struggle. Didn't call for help. I just let myself sink, inch by inch.

Because the truth was—

I really did want to die.

The moment the servants scattered, the last wisp of air left my lungs.

My soul drifted weightlessly out of my body.

I hovered in a daze, half-transparent, and softly asked the system in my mind, 'Can you transmit me now? I want to go home.'

But the system's mechanical voice was flat and unyielding: [Only once the male and female leads acknowledge your death can you exit this world.]

I paused for a moment, then let it go. I'd survived decades—what was a little more waiting?

I was certain that Nathan, who couldn't stand to be apart from me for even a minute back then, would come looking for me like a madman within half an hour at most.

But I waited from dawn to dusk, and from dusk until ice formed on the pool. His familiar figure never appeared.

Something hollowed out in my chest. Against my will, I drifted toward the villa.

The moment I passed through the door, a warm scene unfolded before me.

Nathan had his arm gently around Vivian, leaning down to teach her how to paint.

Our son, Nathan Jr., curled up beside them, his face full of adoring smiles.

And the woman in the painting—she looked almost like me. Except for one detail: at the corner of her eye, there was a delicate, alluring mole.

My heart clenched violently. A bitter sting flooded my eyes.

So my life and death weren't even worth the time it took to paint Vivian a picture.

All my certainty from before suddenly turned into a blade aimed at my own chest.

I fled the courtyard in humiliation, heading for the peach grove in the back—my favorite spot, where I'd hoped to find some small comfort.

Instead, I found the servants swinging shovels, hacking at the roots of the peach trees.

One worker, hesitating with a saw in hand, asked uncertainly, "Did Mr. Hartwell really order this? I remember—he had these trees shipped all the way from Sovelle City ten years ago, just to make Madam Elena happy."

The head butler scoffed and sneered, "That's ancient history!

"These days, the lady of the Hartwell house is Vivian Gray—the eldest daughter of the Gray family. That has-been from the brothels? She doesn't deserve to set foot in a place this nice, let alone keep it.

"Chop away. Mr. Hartwell and the young master only have eyes for Madam Vivian now."

With that, the peach trees crashed to the ground one by one. Delicate pink blossoms scattered across the dirt, trampled underfoot, ground into dust.

Staring at the ruin before me, decades of memories surged back like a tidal wave, drowning me.

The butler was right.

Nathan loving me—that was a very, very long time ago. Ten years ago, his heart belonged to no one but me. When we first met, he bid on my first night and bought my freedom.

He took on his family's punishment, enduring their opposition, just to marry me.

Back then, he held me close and whispered, "Elena, from now on, I'll never let you be alone again."

For the first five years of our marriage, after I gave birth to Nathan Jr., we were still as in love as ever.

Then the patriarch of the Gray family came looking for me, and I learned the truth: I was the twin sister of Vivian Gray, the famous university professor back home.

She cried and apologized, saying it was her fault that I'd been separated from our family all those years ago. And to make up for it, she insisted on moving into the Hartwell house to help care for and educate my son.

And she lived up to her reputation as the only female professor at Sovelle University.

Within two weeks, Nathan's gaze was glued to her.

Our private conversations—once filled with the small, ordinary details of our life—became nothing but Vivian this, Vivian that.

He'd always say, "If you'd never ended up in the nightlife scene, would you have been like your sister—brilliant, accomplished, captivating?"

Even my son, Nathan Jr., began to pull away. The clingy little boy I once knew turned into a cold, distant young man.

He even forbade me from picking him up at school anymore, because my background had made him a laughingstock among his classmates.

Back then, I swallowed the bitterness and told myself they were just protecting their pride.

But then, on my birthday, I found Vivian—disheveled and half-dressed—curled up in Nathan's arms.

And I knew.

Everything had changed.

That night, I completely fell apart.

At the Hartwell family banquet, I went mad—overturning tables, smashing everything within reach. Shards of glass sliced across my arms, and blood instantly soaked through my sleeves.

Nathan rushed over, pulling me into his arms, his face full of anguish and regret. He even pounded his own chest with his fists.

"Elena, I was drugged. I never meant to betray you."

His voice was low, pleading, every word earnest.

But once I'd calmed down slightly, his tone turned heavy. "Vivian was wronged. I have to take responsibility for her."

He said he'd only make Vivian his wife for five years.

I refused—refused with everything I had.

In those days, I raged at him day and night, each word dripping with blood and tears. I called him ungrateful, a traitor to the vows he'd made, someone who'd turned into another woman's refuge in the blink of an eye.

He tried to soothe me with patience, but he never wavered.

Not until I nearly killed myself from self-harm did he finally agree to cut ties with Vivian.

But fate had other plans. Vivian turned out to be pregnant.

I could no longer stop it. All I could do was watch helplessly as he took her overseas to register their marriage, making her the other lady of the Hartwell house.

Then came the recognition banquet in Loween City. Vivian finally dropped her fragile act. Her words came out cold as ice. "I lost you on purpose back then. Elena, why were you smarter than me as a child? Why did you hoard all of our parents' affection? There's only room for one cherished daughter in the Gray family—and that's me."

She didn't bother hiding her true intentions. She wanted our parents' love all to herself. She wanted all the glory and beauty the world had to offer.

So when she learned I was happy, she sent our father to find me, to get close to my home, to take everything I had.

I never imagined my gentle, kind sister could be this monstrous. I was shaking with rage.

Before I could collect myself, she dug her nails into my arm and threw herself into the pool.

And that scene was witnessed by the Gambling King—the patriarch of Loween City's most powerful dynasty.

Struck by Vivian's beauty, the old man's lust got the better of him. He demanded she become his thirteenth concubine.

The Grays were a minor family. They didn't dare refuse.

On the spot, Vivian miscarried. She would never bear children again.

She collapsed before me, sobbing pitifully, "Fine, you didn't want me to marry Nathan—you made that clear with all your schemes. But why did you push me into the water, make me lose my child, and force me into the Gambling King's bed?"

I couldn't defend myself. And no one around me was willing to believe a word I said.

My son shoved me hard.

Nathan's gaze toward me turned utterly cold—empty of any remaining trust.

Looking at the marriage contract sent by the Gambling King, Nathan said sternly, "Elena, when you do wrong, you have to make it right."

As his fingers traced over my face—identical to Vivian's—his eyes were as indifferent as if he were examining something worthless.

"The Gambling King won't be able to tell you apart."

And just like that, he pushed me into the abyss with his own hands, forcing me to take Vivian's place and marry into the Gambling King's household in Loween City.

Everyone knew the Gambling King had beaten several of his concubines to death.

Under his endless torment, I nearly died more times than I could count.

And it was in that despair that all my memories finally came flooding back.

I remembered: I was really Pearl Gray—an ordinary college student from another world.

Twenty-five years ago, to save my mother from cancer, I'd made a deal with the system to come to this world. My role was to play Nathan Hartwell's disposable ex-wife—a character everyone despised.

My mission: to stir up conflict, push the male and female leads together, and die before them exactly ten years into the marriage.

At first, I'd come with that mission in mind—but somehow, I'd lost my memories and fallen hopelessly, genuinely in love with Nathan.

Now, two sets of memories clashed inside me. I couldn't tell if I was Pearl or Elena Gray.

Just then, my mother's voice reached me across time and space. "Baby, Mommy is waiting for you to come home."

And then I was awake. From that moment on, I stopped fighting the Gambling King's abuse. I stopped sending messages to the outside world. I stopped hoping Nathan would remember our past and rescue me.

For five years, I watched coldly as he and Vivian built their perfect love story, as I clawed my way into becoming the matriarch of the Gambling King's household.

Because if I wanted to complete the mission, first I had to survive.

Five years passed in the blink of an eye. I survived that devouring Loween City dynasty—and then the Gambling King died suddenly.

Nathan and Nathan Jr. finally sent word: I was permitted to fake my death and come home.

But the three conditions attached to that message were nothing but humiliation.

Even the servants were outraged on my behalf.

But all I wanted was to go home—to return to my mother's side.

So I faked my death and came back to the Hartwell house, becoming exactly what they wanted me to be: silent, submissive, invisible.

No more fighting. No more tears.

After all, I was never anything more than a traveler who was desperate to go home.