Wife for Rent

The giant screens of Bradley's Group illuminated Ashford daily, flashing the same stark advertisement: "Wife Rental."

Just yesterday, the wife of the Bradley family—the woman with the peculiar scale on her temple—had been auctioned off for a million dollars to serve as a drinking proxy. She earned one coin for every glass she finished.

For Bradley, this was the only way to torment Stella, the sole balm for the bitter resentment festering in his heart.

But he didn’t know. Stella was actually the reincarnation of a wealth-attracting golden koi. Every twisted form of torment he devised for her ultimately transformed into staggering fortune for the Bradley family.

Now, fifty glasses of strong liquor stood stacked like a small mountain. Her eyes red, she looked at Bradley and pleaded softly, "Bradley, I’ve... my period just started. Could I—"

A cold, mocking smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Drink."

Stella closed her eyes in despair. Fifty glasses of fire, one after another, burned down her throat and scorched her insides until they felt like raw, bleeding holes.

A hot rush surged between her legs, staining her white dress a vivid crimson.

Finally, her phone chimed with the robotic female voice: "Fifty dollars received."

Clutching her aching abdomen, she struggled to her feet. The spectacle of her stained dress drew a wave of mocking laughter.

"Bradley, how did you train such an obedient little lapdog?"

"Wasn't she the one you used to cherish? You almost gave your life to save her once. When did the tables turn so completely?"

A single, arrogant lift of Bradley's eyebrow sent a ripple of squeals through the crowd of watching girls.

He slowly exhaled a plume of smoke, his laugh cold. "From the moment she pocketed that ransom money and left my sister with the mind of a three-year-old."

"Yeah, I might have felt a shred of something real for her back then. But now? Hah."

"As for training a lapdog... first, she has to be madly, desperately in love with you."

Stella's hand, already on the door handle, froze. Her nails dug deep into her palm.

A *shred* of real feeling?

During their first year of marriage, he’d change the sheets seven times a night, leaving her too sore to walk the next day.

He bought a flawless pink diamond at auction just to have it set into her manicure.

Once, she’d offhandedly mentioned the air was dry. The next day, he had the whole of Ashford under artificial rain.

When an avalanche struck during a trip, he carried her, hypothermic and limp, running through the night—nearly dying himself in the process...

All of that... was just a *shred* of feeling to him?

So a person’s heart could change that easily.

She glanced back at him. In answer, hetauntingly wrapped an arm around a random woman beside him and kissed her, hard and possessive.

Amidst the roaring cheers and applause, Stella wrenched the door open and fled.

No tears. No lament.

A koi’s transformation was meant to repay a debt, to help the Bradley family amass their fortune. The day her scale fell, she would leave.

Since he no longer loved her, it would be easier to go without a backward glance.

Later, deep into the drinks, Bradley’s phone rang. It was Kathleen, her voice choked with sobs. His sister was in trouble.

Panic seized him. He rushed home to find Reese lying on the floor, covered in blood!

He lunged, his hand closing around Stella’s throat and lifting her almost off her feet. "What did you do to her?!"

Stella gasped, words strangled, her hands flailing helplessly.

Only then did Bradley notice the long, deep gash on Stella’s arm, blood still welling from it.

His grip faltered for a second, and he released her.

Kathleen helped Reese up, explaining quickly, "The blood is Stella’s. But she just pushed Reese down, Bradley. If you’d been any later, Reese might have..."

Reese whimpered, pointing a shaky finger. "Sissy wouldn’t wipe me... Sissy bad!"

Bradley followed her finger to the toilet, where a trail of filth stained the bowl and dripped to the floor.

"She’s like this because of you! Is wiping her once so hard?!" Rage ignited in his eyes again.

Stella laughed, a sound born of sheer, bitter fury. "Wipe her *once*? She told me to use my mouth!"

"Bradley, for years I’ve tried to explain! I never took that thousand dollars from the ransom! I didn’t hurt Reese! Why won’t you ever believe me?!"

Two years ago, Reese and her best friend Kathleen had been kidnapped. The ransom was five million.

Stella had delivered the cash in two suitcases. Somehow, a thousand dollars went missing.

Feeling insulted, the kidnappers smashed Reese’s head in.

His bright, lovely sister was reduced to a child who couldn’t control her own bladder. Bradley poured all his fury onto Stella.

She became his tool for venting rage.

At first, for one dollar, anyone could rent her to kneel and polish shoes.

For two, she’d scrub your toilet.

If you wanted something edgier, a night of suggestive dancing cost only five.

Gradually, Ashford’s elite began to see "renting" Stella as a status symbol, bidding astronomical sums for the contracts.

And every time she tried to defend herself, it only earned her more of Bradley’s humiliation.

*Smack!* A brutal slap cracked across her face.

Bradley dragged her to the toilet, forcing her head down into the bowl.

It still held the filth Reese hadn’t flushed.

Suffocation and nausea overwhelmed her. Stella fought, her struggles only making him press down harder.

"You want to act so high and mighty? Then I’ll drown you in the filth!" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Just as blackness threatened to swallow her, he yanked her up and flung her aside.

Gasping for air, she raised her head. Kathleen gasped, "Bradley! Her scale... it’s changing color!"

Bradley stared, stunned. The white scale on Stella’s temple had turned a pale gold.

"Is she... some kind of monster? It’s terrifying..." Kathleen’s teeth chattered.

"Monster?" Bradley scoffed. "Get me the pliers."

Stella recoiled, curling in on herself. "Bradley, what are you doing?"

He took the pliers and leaned over her, cruelty churning in his eyes. "I’ve hated that ugly thing for a long time. Today, I’m ripping it off."

The cold touch of metal, then a tearing, rending agony that consumed her.

"No! It hurts—it hurts so much!"

This scale was her Essence Scale, the core of her very being. Ripping it out was like tearing out her bones and sinews!

Stella screamed, tears streaming down her face.

Three years ago, when she first entered the Bradley home, Bradley had traced the scale on her temple with his finger and called it a unique mark.

The young master who’d mocked her as a freak was bankrupt the next day, his family ruined.

He’d taught her to walk with her head held high, praised her for a beauty no other woman could match.

And now he held pliers, ready to rip that very scale from her.

Pain!

Excruciating pain!

Blood dripped from her temple into her eyes, painting her world a violently shaking scarlet.

A secretary hurried in. "Sir, the Zhang family auction is tomorrow. They’ve bid three hundred thousand to have Madam serve as the ceremonial hostess."

Bradley paused. He dropped the pliers with a clatter, his voice flat. "A hostess needs perfect makeup. You get a pass this time."

He turned and left.

Gasping for breath, Stella looked at her reflection. The scale had darkened further. Tears of blood welled in her eyes and fell.

The day the scale turned pure gold would be the day the debt was repaid, the karma concluded.

She hoped that day would come soon.