My name is Mika.

I am twenty-four years old.

And I am in prison for a murder I did not commit.

I came to a foreign country as a contract worker with nothing but the will to survive. I worked as a cleaner assistant in a luxury hotel, living quietly and staying invisible, never daring to dream beyond my place.

For seven months, my life was normal.

Until the day everything changed.

That day, I was assigned to clean the room of a woman named Cynthia.

She was rich, powerful, and the heir to a large family business. Someone important. Someone whose life mattered.

Unlike mine.

When I entered the room, I thought she was asleep. She was lying on the floor in a strange position.

But something felt wrong.

The silence… it was too heavy.

I walked closer.

“Ma’am…?” I called softly.

No response.

I hesitated, then reached out and touched her hand.

Cold.

My heart dropped.

My hands started shaking as I checked her breathing.

Nothing.

She was already dead.

I panicked and ran out, calling my supervisor. He rushed in, and the ambulance was called immediately.

But it was useless.

She was already gone.

The police arrived soon after.

At first, they only asked questions. I answered everything honestly, believing the truth would protect me.

But slowly, things changed.

Their tone became cold. Their eyes filled with suspicion.

And then… the evidence appeared.

Things I had never seen. Things I had never touched.

Yet somehow, everything pointed at me.

“I didn’t do it…” I tried to say.

But my voice felt small.

Weak.

Unimportant.

I had no money. No power. No one to stand for me.

So I stopped trying.

And just like that…

I became the murderer.

Prison was worse than anything I imagined.

In the beginning, I worked as a gardener. I thought it would be peaceful.

I was wrong.

The inmates saw me as weak.

They beat me.

Humiliated me.

One day, they forced soil into my mouth.

“Eat it,” they laughed.

Another night, while I was asleep, they cut my long hair.

The only thing I ever liked about myself.

I didn’t fight back.

I didn’t cry.

Because I had already learned something—

Fighting changes nothing when the world has already decided who you are.

So I stayed silent.

And held everything inside.

After some time, they got bored of me.

Or maybe… I just became invisible again.

My duty changed to washing clothes and cleaning bathrooms. Work I was already used to.

So I did it.

Quietly. Carefully.

Just like always.

The policewomen showed no mercy.

To them, we were all the same.

Criminals.

Months passed.

After nine months, I learned something new.

Good behavior could reduce my sentence.

Work would earn money.

Money… I would only receive when I was released.

Released.

The word felt distant.

Unreal.

My sentence is fifteen years.

Maybe twelve… if I behave well.

Twelve years for a crime I didn’t commit.

Still… for the first time, I felt something small.

Hope.

Maybe one day, I can leave.

Maybe I can go back home.

At night, when everything becomes quiet, the loneliness grows louder.

I sit in a corner and read whatever books I can find.

Stories of love.

Of freedom.

Of people who belong somewhere.

For a moment… I pretend I am one of them.

Then I close the book.

And the emptiness returns.

I often think about my grandfather.

The only person who ever loved me.

My father left when I was seven.

My mother remarried soon after.

I lived in that house like a burden… someone they tolerated.

When she became pregnant, she left me with my grandfather.

Saying I was too hard to take care of.

But with him…

I felt peace.

For the first time in my life.

I felt like I belonged.

Now, I sit behind bars.

A murderer in everyone’s eyes.

But deep inside…

I am still that silent girl.

Waiting.

Not for justice.

Not for revenge.

But for something I have never truly had—

A life that feels like mine.

He walked fast through the corridors of his law firm, his expression cold and furious. His footsteps were sharp, echoing across the polished floor, forcing everyone around him to step aside. His secretary hurried behind him, almost running, struggling to keep up while holding a stack of documents tightly against her chest.

“Where is the document I told you to prepare?” he asked without slowing down.

“Sir… it’s ready. You just need to review and sign it,” she replied, slightly breathless.

He didn’t respond. He simply extended his hand, expecting perfection.

He was always like this.

Everything had to go exactly as he planned. No mistakes. No delays. No excuses. If something went wrong, his temper would rise instantly, and he would become someone his employees feared to face.

To them, he wasn’t just their boss.

He was a storm waiting to happen.

Only two people truly understood him—his younger brother and his grandfather. He was the heir to his grandfather’s powerful business empire, yet he chose a different path.

He didn’t want success handed to him.

He wanted to build it himself.

At the age of twenty-six, he walked away from his career as a prosecutor and started over as a lawyer. It wasn’t easy. He had no strong backing, no financial support from his family, and no shortcuts.

But he had something else.

Relentless determination.

At twenty-three, he had already started investing in the stock market, carefully building his funds with one goal in mind—to establish his own law firm. Slowly, his investments grew, and so did his reputation.

His first big break came through a connection with a minister.

From there, everything changed.

Case by case, he climbed higher.

From handling small disputes to representing powerful figures, he eventually reached a level where he was trusted with cases involving the country’s Prime Minister. His law firm expanded beyond borders, taking international cases and gaining global recognition.

But success came with danger.

He walked a path surrounded by powerful people and hidden enemies—like walking among snakes every single day.

He hated bootlickers.

He had no patience for people who pretended or flattered their way up.

But he respected one thing—

Hard work.

People who were willing to learn, struggle, and grow… he valued them.

Despite his success, his personal life remained simple.

He owned only a single apartment. Every rupee he earned went back into growing his company. His empire wasn’t built on luck or inheritance.

It was built with blood, sweat, and sheer will.

And he never showed weakness.

To anyone.

Marriage? Love? Family?

He had no interest in any of it.

He was known for his poker face, his sharp mind, and his cold, unreadable nature. People called him heartless.

And he never bothered to deny it.

Once, he worked continuously for three and a half days without rest, completely absorbed in a case. His body finally gave up, and he collapsed due to dehydration. He was rushed to the hospital, where doctors strictly ordered him to stay in bed for two days.

He woke up after just five hours.

“How much time did I waste lying here?” he asked his secretary, his voice filled with irritation.

“This hospital smell… I hate it,” he muttered, putting on a mask she handed him.

“Bring my documents. And my laptop.”

“Sir, you need rest—”

“Not ‘but’,” he cut her off sharply. “In my life, only I decide whether I work or rest.”

Left with no choice, she handed him everything.

He finished his paperwork in exactly thirty-five minutes. He had set a timer for forty. Efficiency was everything to him. After completing it, he leaned back slightly and said, “Wake me up in one hour.”

Two hours later, he was already back on his feet.

He wiped his face, brushed his teeth, changed into a fresh suit within minutes, and prepared to leave—all while still connected to an IV. A nurse entered to change it and froze for a second, stunned by how striking he looked.

He glanced at her coldly.

She hurried, finishing her work in one go.

He didn’t even flinch.

“Let’s go,” he said, handing the IV pack to his secretary as he walked out.

His car was already waiting.

He stepped in, calm and focused, as if nothing had happened.

“Let’s go win this trial.”

His name was Zhang Linghe.

Thirty-four years old.

Short-tempered. Sharp-minded. Emotionally distant.

A man who understood success… but knew nothing about life beyond it.

And soon…

His path would cross with someone completely opposite to him.

A woman broken by fate.

A woman the world called a murderer.

Jail life slowly became normal for Mika.

She woke up, ate, worked, exercised, and slept. Days passed in a fixed routine, as if time itself had stopped moving. There was no excitement, no change—just survival.

Some days, she read novels.

On rare days, she tried to write one.

But even that small happiness never lasted.

The inmates around her wouldn’t let her sit peacefully. They mocked her, interrupted her, and sometimes tore the papers she wrote on.

So she stopped trying.

Dreams didn’t belong in a place like this.

The only escape she had was inside her mind.

She created someone for herself.

An imaginary presence… someone who stayed with her when no one else did.

His name was Luo Yunxi.

A Chinese drama actor she admired deeply. She loved his dramas, his songs, his gentle smile. In this lonely prison life, he became her silent comfort.

Her imaginary boyfriend.

She didn’t dream of meeting him up close.

She didn’t dream of talking to him.

She only wished for one simple thing—

To see him once… from afar.

That was enough for her.

Mika had always wished for simple things.

A peaceful life. A small home. A quiet future with her grandfather in her village in Yunnan, China—a place surrounded by mountains and calm skies.

She had come to Switzerland only to earn money and return.

But fate had other plans.

Now, instead of returning home, she was trapped in prison.

Punished as a murderer.

A life she never chose.

Marriage, love, relationships—she had never thought about them. To her, those things belonged to another world.

A world she could never reach.

But what she didn’t know was this—

Her fate was already beginning to change.

Two completely different lives were about to collide.

Mika… and Zhang Linghe.

Bound together by something neither of them expected—

Marriage.

Whether it would turn into love…

Or hatred…

That was a story yet to unfold.

Meanwhile, Zhang Linghe had already won his case.

He stood calm and composed as the verdict was announced. His client was safe, and the opponent broke down in tears.

“Do you not have anyone to love?” she shouted at him. “You’re so heartless! I curse you—you will never be with the one you love. You will end up alone… and broken!”

Zhang stepped closer, his expression unchanged.

“Your crying doesn’t make me money,” he said coldly, glancing at his watch. “You just wasted thirty-five seconds of my time.”

He turned away without another word.

“Let’s go, Secretary Lia. I don’t waste my time on losers.”

Inside the car, he put on his sunglasses and fell asleep instantly.

Secretary Lia quietly took him back to the hospital. When he woke up, he didn’t even feel like walking, so she brought a wheelchair. As soon as he reached his room, he removed his coat and threw it aside.

The doctor arrived soon after.

“You need proper rest, Mr. Zhang,” he said firmly. “Your health is more important than your work. You were dehydrated and unconscious. You haven’t even been eating properly.”

Zhang sighed lightly.

“I understand, doctor. But when I work, I don’t feel hunger or sleep. I don’t even notice what’s happening around me.”

The doctor shook his head. “You’re a complete workaholic. You’re only thirty-four, but your body is already showing signs of strain—stiff neck, back pain, insomnia. This isn’t normal.”

Zhang frowned slightly.

“I’m not a child, doctor. Don’t lecture me. It’s annoying.”

The doctor let out a small sigh. “Change into a hospital gown. I’ll have the nurse bring you light food. And listen carefully—no laptop, no documents today. You need rest.”