Chapter 3

Liam Miller's first day at the grave was a disaster, a true performance art failure.

He couldn't cry.

Or rather, he had forgotten how to cry for me.

He tried everything—pinching his thighs, thinking of sad things, even having his assistant tell him jokes.

They say laughter to the extreme can also bring tears.

The result? He laughed like a maniac in front of my grave, earning a barrage of "LOL"s in the comments, but his sincerity score remained stubbornly at "0%."

The next day, my mother-in-law, Brenda, showed up with a group of her friends, calling it "on-site coaching." They gathered around my grave, blasting a mournful, wailing tune from an old, crackling speaker, letting out ear-splitting howls, trying to 'inspire' Liam.

"Oh, my poor son—you suffer so much—"

"That damned Chloe Davis—even in death, she tortures you—"

Liam Miller's head throbbed from their incessant noise, and he roared, his face livid, "Get out, all of you!"

The live-stream audience was losing it, flooding the comments with "Comedy Award of the Year" for me.

I sat in front of the monitor, watching it all with a blank expression.

There was no sense of triumph in my heart, only a desolate coldness.

I turned off the farce and brought up another encrypted video.

It was of Liam Miller and me in the past.

The video began in a cheap rental apartment in a college town.

Liam Miller back then wore a faded T-shirt, his eyes clear, a faint dimple appearing when he smiled.

His family was poor, but he would save half a month's living expenses to buy me a limited-edition lipstick I liked.

As a top student in the business school, I helped him plan his career, revise his resume, and even used my father's connections to secure his first internship.

He held me tightly then, his eyes shining like stars.

"Chloe, you're everything to me. When I make it big, I'll make you the happiest woman in the world."

I believed him.

The scene shifted to his company's startup phase.

I gave up the opportunity to study abroad and became his company's first employee, juggling roles as finance, administration, and project manager, staying up countless nights with him.

We ate instant noodles together in his tiny office, sketching out the company's blueprint.

Then, Amber Reed appeared.

An ordinary college student he met on a business trip, innocent, delicate, her eyes filled with adoration for him.

She supposedly helped him a great deal, though I never quite understood what she could have possibly done.

She came to the company as an intern, knowing nothing, only blinking her innocent big eyes and timidly saying, "Liam, I don't know how to do this. Can you teach me?"

For the first time, Liam Miller made a demand of me for another woman.

"Chloe, Amber is new; she doesn't understand anything. Please guide her. She's not like you, who had everything growing up; she's very pitiful."

I tried to teach her, but she looked at me with a gaze mixed with jealousy and disdain.

"Chloe, you're so amazing, unlike me; I only know how to study. But it's not good for girls to be too strong; it puts pressure on men. Liam often says he feels exhausted around you."

At that moment, I felt the chill of betrayal for the first time.

I turned off the video, my chest aching.

These memories, once my most precious treasures, were now daggers piercing my heart.

Just then, on the screen, Liam Miller's phone lit up.

It was a text from Amber Reed.

Using technical means, I synced the content to my screen.

"Liam, I went back to our old place today to pack some things and accidentally found something of Chloe's. I think... it might be her diary."

Liam Miller abruptly stood up from the ground, his expression agitated.

A diary?

What could Chloe Davis's diary possibly contain?

He almost immediately wanted to rush out of the cemetery, to find Amber, to snatch that diary.

But the moment he took a step, the surveillance bracelet on his wrist blared a piercing alarm.

"Warning! Warning! User is leaving the designated area, timer will be interrupted!"

Mr. Sterling's team appeared like ghosts, blocking his path with impassive faces. "Mr. Miller, please calm down. If you leave, the agreement is automatically voided."

Liam Miller's feet were nailed to the spot.

He looked back at my tombstone, then at his phone, his face etched with an unprecedented struggle and anxiety.

I watched with cold eyes.

Liam Miller, which would win out? Your greed or your curiosity?

Just then, my assistant, Chris, knocked and entered, holding a delicate velvet box.

"Ms. Davis, as you instructed, the item is ready."

I nodded, picked up the box, and offered a knowing smile to the camera.

"Go, give this 'surprise' to my dear husband."

"Tell him, perhaps this can help him... find that lost 'sincerity.'"

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