Author: Momo Chan

It was only after I’d successfully won him over that I realized I had the wrong guy. I’d managed to charm the story’s secret villain, the one who hid his darkness behind a sweet smile. Now I had to figure out how to break up with him. I tried to test the waters. “What if someone… betrayed you?” He answered without a second thought. “I’d dump them in the middle of the ocean.” Terrified, I decided my only option was to become the world’s most clingy, annoying girlfriend, hoping he’d get sick of me and dump me first. Every day, it was a constant barrage: “Do you love me? Why didn’t you text me back instantly? Are you cheating on me? Hand over your phone, I’m checking it.” I worked tirelessly to be the absolute worst, just waiting for the day he’d finally break. Instead, I overheard him complaining to a friend. “My girlfriend is so clingy because I haven’t given her enough security,” he lamented. “I’ve decided I’m going to propose to her tomorrow.” I was completely dumbfounded. 1 It had been six months since I’d been transported into this book, and I had finally captured the male lead’s heart. The private room was dimly lit. Julian Croft held a birthday cake, the candles flickering in front of me. Cheers and whispers filled the air around us. “This girl, Amelia, is so lucky. Julian gets hurt, she happens to find him, and suddenly she’s gone from a nobody to a billionaire’s girlfriend.” “Please. He’s just tired of fancy cuisine and wants to try some plain porridge for a change. I give it a month, tops.” “But he brought her into his circle. He’s made it official.” At that moment, Julian was looking down at me. As the novel’s hero, he was breathtakingly handsome, his long lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks. He looked so sweet, so innocent. Forgetting to even make a wish, I leaned in and kissed him. Six months ago, I’d been dropped into this cliché, over-the-top CEO romance novel. Following the System’s instructions, I found the injured male lead in an alley near my house. Under my care, he recovered quickly, and we fell in love. And now, at this pivotal moment, the System, which had been offline for ages, finally came back. [Host! I’m finally back online!] [Wow, have you completed the mission already? Calculating your points now.] [Beep—Beep-beep—#￥%&*] After a burst of static, the System’s electronic voice was filled with panic. [CRITICAL ERROR DETECTED! HOST, YOU’VE BEEN DATING THE WRONG PERSON!!!] The smile froze on my face. 2 The System frantically explained the situation. When I first arrived, the System had only told me to go to the alley and find someone before it promptly crashed. I’d stumbled around in the dark all night before I finally found Julian, unconscious. He was handsome, had abs, and impossibly long legs. He had to be the male lead. After all that effort I’d put into nursing him back to health… I’d picked the wrong guy? I was devastated. [So what now?] [I’m so sorry, Host. You still have to win over the actual male lead to complete the mission. You’ll have to find a way to break up with the villain.] In this tropey novel, the villain, Julian Croft, was described as cunning, manipulative, and ruthless. To put it simply, crossing him was a fate worse than death. And I… I had to break up with him? I looked up and met Julian’s gaze. His voice was like velvet as he said, “Make a wish. Whatever you want, I’ll do everything in my power to make it come true.” A chorus of “awws” erupted around us. No one doubted the weight of a promise from the heir to the Croft fortune. With everyone’s envious eyes on me, I forced a smile. Oh, dear God, I prayed silently, I messed up. Please, just let me break up with Julian Croft! I watched with bated breath as the candles flickered and died. A second later— They all relit themselves. I… 3 After the party, Julian and I went home. He was particularly passionate tonight. We were still in the elevator when his fiery kisses started raining down on me. His lips were cool and soft, and as they moved against mine, he kissed me until I was breathless. The System was screaming in my ear. [Host! Stop enjoying it! You’re supposed to be breaking up with him!] Right, right. I clung to the last shred of my sanity. “Julian, I need to talk to you.” “Mm, go ahead.” Could you maybe stop what you’re doing while I’m trying to talk?! My brain short-circuited, and the truth slipped out. “Let’s break up.” The atmosphere instantly froze. Julian’s movements stopped, and he straightened up. He looked down at me, his dark eyes like pools of ink. For the first time, I realized just how tall he was. His shadow completely enveloped me, making me feel like trapped prey. “What did you say?” His voice was soft, his tone deceptively calm, but it sent my heart into a frantic rhythm. Was this the villain’s true power? System, I’m scared! I immediately tried to walk back my breakup declaration. “I—I just don’t think you really like me. So, I’m not going to like you anymore either.” The coldness in Julian’s expression softened. He leaned in and started kissing me again, his lips trailing gently across my eyelids. “Why would you think that?” “Our backgrounds are worlds apart,” I said, trying to steer the conversation. “What you feel for me is probably just gratitude. You were hurt, alone, and you mistook gratitude for love.” So just snap out of it! Julian let out a soft chuckle. “That’s not what you used to say.” “You said a drop of kindness should be repaid with a fountain, and that saving a life should be repaid by dedicating your own.” I… Yes, I did say that crap. “Because I’ve thought it through. True love is about letting go. I can’t force you.” Julian didn’t answer. He simply scooped me up into his arms with effortless strength and carried me into the master bedroom, dropping me onto the soft mattress. His chest pressed against mine, his fingers toying with my earlobe. “Amelia, love is about possession, destruction, and stopping at nothing. So please, keep forcing me.” Heat spread from my earlobe through my entire body. My oxygen was plundered, and I nearly passed out. Only one thought remained in my mind. Who was forcing whom, exactly? Afterward, I was so exhausted I couldn’t even lift a finger. Julian had to carry me to the bathtub to wash up. He kissed my sweaty forehead. “Don’t ever talk about breaking up again.” My throat was so raw I couldn’t even speak. I could only nod miserably. I remembered when I first met him, a stolen kiss would make him blush. Now… It was all my fault for not being able to control myself and luring him into my bed. The only thing to do now was run. 4 In the middle of the night, Julian got up to take a call. I tiptoed out of the room. I could hear voices from the stairwell. “Mr. Croft, we’ve caught the traitor. What are your orders?” It was one of Julian’s loyal underlings. Julian was leaning against the railing, the red glow of his cigarette flaring in the dark. “Dump him in the ocean,” he said casually. “When you betray me, there’s nowhere to run.” I was in a cliché romance novel. The villain’s influence was global. He was untouchable, unstoppable. I… Was he talking about me? If I dumped him now, what would happen to me? I scrambled back into bed. No, no, I have to find a way to break up with him peacefully! Preferably, in a way that made him dump me. I called out to the System: [What do women do that men hate the most?] [Men hate gold diggers.] I nodded, then shook my head. [No, only poor men hate gold diggers. Julian has too much money. That won’t work on him.] But, I decided to give it a try anyway. After all, I’d read countless online forums where men said, “I’m willing to give, but she can’t just ask for it.” So, maybe Julian hated being asked, too? My thoughts were a jumbled mess when he came back into the room. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulled me against him, and tilted my chin up for a kiss. “Still awake? What are you thinking about?” My gaze was full of despair. “I was just thinking about how I can’t swim, and how much I hate the ocean.” 5 Operation Gold Digger commenced. “I want to buy a bag.” “Okay,” Julian agreed. But he didn’t give me any money, nor did he offer to go with me. Heh, the internet was right! I was about to use this as an excuse to launch into a tirade about how he didn’t love me and wouldn’t spend money on me. But the next second, the butler led the manager of a luxury brand into the living room. Behind her were more than a dozen sales associates in sharp suits, each carrying a different handbag. The manager smiled sweetly. “Miss Miller, which ones have caught your eye?” I… “I don’t like this brand,” I said stubbornly. The manager bowed and left with a smile. Immediately, another manager walked in. “Don’t worry, Miss Miller,” the butler explained. “They are all lined up outside. Whatever you wish to see is available.” I… Was luxury fashion just too cheap for him? Was that why he didn’t care? I had to up the ante. I needed diamonds! I needed real estate! After I’d nervously spent over a hundred million dollars and Julian’s expression still hadn’t changed, Operation Gold Digger was officially a failure. I asked him, my last hope dwindling, “I spent so much money. Don’t you care? Don’t you think I only like you for your money?” “I’m usually too busy with work to spend money,” he said lightly. “It’s a good thing I have you.” I… I was panicking. [What do I do? What else can I do?] The System popped up. [Host, I’ve found it! A safe and painless breakup method.] [It’s called ‘love bombing,’ but in reverse. You smother the other person with constant attention until they can’t take it anymore and break up with you. This way, they’ll just think your love is suffocating. They won’t feel betrayed; they’ll just want to get as far away from you as possible.] My eyes lit up. 6 For the next few days, I devoured every online tutorial on how to use this reverse love bombing technique. Then, full of confidence, I began step one. Sabotage the CEO’s work. I insisted on going to the office with Julian. “I’m so bored at home all day. I miss you so much I can’t eat. I’m getting so thin.” I put on my best baby voice and practically contorted myself into a puddle of neediness. Ugh, I’m so annoying! Julian, however, was not disgusted. He just pinched my increasingly chubby chin. “Bored? You come home later than I do every day.” It was true. I had been treating my shopping sprees like a full-time job, and every night, it was Julian who would pick me up after he was done with work. Reverse Love Bombing Tactic #2: Be completely unreasonable and throw tantrums at any time, for any reason. “It’s because you never spend time with me! I have to shop to console myself,” I declared. “I don’t want your stupid money! I want your time! Your attention! Your love! If you don’t spend time with me, I’ll never spend another dime of your money for the rest of my life!” Julian just stared at me. Since my tantrum was completely baseless, his silence made my heart pound with fear. I immediately started second-guessing myself. Was that too much? What if he skips the breakup and sends me straight to the ocean? My bravado instantly deflated. “I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry.” We both spoke at the same time. “I’ve been too busy,” Julian said. “I should be spending more time with you.” I froze. When I finally spoke, I was stuttering from guilt. “I was so mean just now, so inconsiderate. Don’t you want to break up with me and find a more obedient girlfriend?” Julian frowned, his expression turning cold and heavy. “Why are you talking about breaking up again?” The word “breakup” was his trigger. The second I said it, his face fell, and I was instantly reminded of his true identity as the story’s ultimate villain. “Hmph, I was testing you! Can’t you tell?” I bluffed. “If you dare to break up with me, I’ll go to your company with a giant banner, write a tell-all post online, and curse you, you scumbag!” See? This is my twisted, obsessive love! Aren’t you terrified? But instead— Julian let out a short, pleased laugh. His features relaxed, and he looked both happy and satisfied. “Good. I’ll be waiting.” What??? Maybe he didn’t realize how serious I was. I decided to escalate the threats. “In that case, let me make things clear. I hate men who aren’t completely devoted. If you dare to cheat, I’ll break up with you! When I text you, you have to reply within two minutes. When I call, you have to answer within three rings. You have to report your whereabouts to me every hour, and I can check your phone at any time. You have to tell me about every woman you know. Can you do that?” Ha! Scared now, aren’t you? Anyone hearing those demands would run for the hills. But Julian didn’t hesitate for a second. “Done.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394441”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the second year of my arranged marriage to Andrew Osment, my first love suddenly returned to the country. One evening, my husband, who had always been a man of cool composure and quiet pride, handed me a document. A divorce agreement. I stared at it for a few seconds, completely floored. “What is this?” His voice trembled. “Your old flame is back. I’ll step aside.” I could only manage a single, bewildered sound. “—Huh??” 1 The work dinner ended late, and it was nearly eleven when I got home. I kicked off my heels, rubbing the ache in my neck as I walked inside, only to find my path blocked by my husband. Andrew Osment was staring at me, his expression a mask of cold fury. “You’ve been drinking?” “A little,” I admitted. He let out a short, sharp scoff. “You never drink. What, are you that happy to see an old lover?” My mind was sluggish from the alcohol, and it took me a moment to register the sarcasm dripping from his words. I looked up, meeting his gaze directly. “If you have something to say, Andrew, just say it. I’m exhausted.” His eyes roamed my face, then suddenly locked onto a single spot, his gaze turning glacial. “Why is your neck red?” I instinctively reached up and scratched it. “A bug bite, maybe?” “Was that bug’s name Evan Cole?” he sneered. Evan Cole. My ex-boyfriend. Suddenly, Andrew’s strange behavior tonight made perfect sense. Before I could say a word, he thrust the document he’d been clenching in his hand toward me. “Sign it.” My eyes fell to the bold letters at the top of the page: DIVORCE AGREEMENT. It’s no exaggeration to say that I sobered up instantly. “Why the sudden divorce?” I asked, my voice laced with disbelief. “Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?” he shot back. “Evan Cole just gets back in the country, and you immediately run off to have drinks with him, coming home smelling of…” His gaze dropped to my neck again, and he fell silent. “It wasn’t a social thing with Evan,” I argued. “I was meeting with the CEO of OmniCorp to discuss a partnership. I told you about this project.” “You were drinking with Evan Cole,” he repeated, fixated on that one point. “Yes, Evan was there, but I didn’t know he would be,” I tried to explain. “He’s good friends with Mr. Harrison. They were drinking together. I could hardly ask him to leave, could I?” The more ridiculous truth, I kept to myself. What right did I have to ask Evan to leave? We were nothing to each other anymore… Andrew was silent for a moment. “Forget the OmniCorp deal. The profit margin is low anyway. I’ll give you other projects.” An unexpected windfall was always nice, but I couldn’t understand it. “Why do you care so much about Evan Cole?” Ours was a marriage of convenience. After a year, we were still little more than polite strangers. Our conversations revolved around meals and sleep, with the occasional mention of work. That was it. This robotic dynamic even extended to our physical life. We were intimate every Friday night, exactly three times. Not once in the entire year of our marriage had that pattern been broken. I’d complained about it to my best friend, Nancy, once. After her initial shock, she’d sighed and said, “I guess that’s just Andrew Osment for you.” Andrew was a legend in our circles. Everyone had heard their parents praise him, and everyone had lived in his shadow. It was one thing to excel in one area, but to be a master of all of them, as he was, was almost unheard of. On top of that, he was incredibly self-disciplined and emotionally stable. It was impossible not to admire him. I used to admire him, too. Until I married him. How did this perfectly calibrated machine become my husband? The golden boy, the prodigy—he was much better admired from a distance. Living with him was a true test of one’s sanity. The machine-like husband finally spoke. “Why can’t I care?” “We dated, yes,” I clarified, “but that ended years ago. I’m your wife now. There’s… nothing between him and me.” “I hope you mean that.” “What?” “I don’t tolerate flaws,” he said, his voice flat. “Not in my life, and not in my marriage. I don’t want my marriage to end because you were unfaithful.” So that was it. I offered a sincere promise. “It won’t.” Satisfied with my answer, Andrew turned and walked into the bedroom. 2 By the time I finished showering, it was nearly midnight. I was lying in bed, drifting off, when I heard him ask, “What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” “What are my options?” “Crab and pork wontons, pan-fried beef dumplings, or strawberry pancakes.” “The dumplings,” I said. “Extra crispy this time, please.” “Mm.” I must not have eaten much at the dinner, because the thought of Andrew’s beef dumplings made my stomach rumble. The man was a phenomenal cook, another area where his perfectionism shone. I’d had my share of fine dining, but his cooking always managed to surprise me. The first time I’d tasted his crab wontons, they were so sublime I thought I’d swallow my own tongue. I swallowed hard. “Are the dumplings already made?” “Yes. I made them tonight,” he said. “While you were out drinking with Evan Cole.” “…” I turned my head suspiciously to look at him. A strange thought occurred to me. When Andrew talked about Evan, he sounded… less like a machine. If I didn’t know him better, I would almost think he was jealous. Jealous over me. But how could that be possible? The machine spoke again. “Is something wrong?” “Nothing.” I pushed the chaotic thoughts from my mind. But his comment had successfully killed my appetite. I didn’t dare mention that I wanted to eat the dumplings now. I was afraid he’d just come back with another zinger like, Didn’t Evan Cole feed you dumplings while you were drinking? 3 I woke up late the next morning. Andrew had already packed the beef dumplings into an insulated container for me. He pressed a freshly bottled thermos of warm soy milk into my hands and said a quiet goodbye. Watching his retreating back, it struck me that, despite his robotic personality, he really did take good care of me. I ate breakfast at my desk. Just as I was about to start working, a message from Nancy popped up. Nancy: I heard Evan Cole is back! Me: I know. I had a drink with him last night. Nancy: HOLY SHIT! Nancy: You work fast! Nancy: Babe, don’t forget you’re a married woman now. You need to be careful about being seen with him. Me: … This was a constant source of frustration for me. I hadn’t dated anyone in the years since Evan and I broke up, simply because I hadn’t wanted to. But somehow, the rumor mill had twisted that into me being unable to get over him. I’d tried to explain, but it only made things worse. Even my best friend, Nancy, thought I was just being stubborn. I called her directly. “I’ve explained this a million times. I have zero feelings for him.” “Okay, okay,” she said, easily placated. Then she added, “Just be careful Andrew doesn’t find out about you drinking with Evan.” “…” “He already knows.” Nancy gasped. “NO WAY!” Talking about Evan was exhausting, but talking about Andrew’s very un-robotic behavior last night was suddenly fascinating. I gave her a dramatic, play-by-play account of his bizarre reaction, heavily emphasizing the fact that he’d handed me a divorce agreement over it. “Isn’t his perfectionism a little… extreme?” Nancy saw it differently. “I don’t know, it kind of sounds like he’s trying to keep you.” “What?” “Think about it. He hands you a divorce agreement, and now you won’t go near Evan Cole again, right?” “What if I had actually signed it?” “Would you have?” “…” No. Setting aside the complex ties between our families, on a purely practical level, I had no desire to divorce a catch like Andrew Osment. “The god is finally descending from Olympus!” Nancy declared dramatically. I rolled my eyes at her theatrics. “More like the super-android is finally showing signs of life.” “You should test him,” she said, her voice buzzing with excitement. “See if it’s just a system malfunction or if he’s actually turning into a real boy.” “How do I do that?” Her next words were heavy with insinuation. “Well, it is Friday…” 4 Nancy’s suggestion was simple, and it made my face burn. All I had to do was press Andrew for one more round. His “three times on a Friday” rule was as reliable as clockwork. If I could get him to break that pattern, to go for a fourth, wouldn’t that prove his programming had been altered? I hesitated, debated, and ultimately decided to do nothing. Finally, the time came. We were in bed. He leaned over me, our eyes meeting for a few seconds before he reached for the silk scarf on the nightstand. He gently covered my eyes, tying it in a soft knot behind my head. Normally, I never questioned it. I just assumed it was part of his routine. But tonight, with Nancy’s words buzzing in my mind, I spoke up. “Why do you always cover my eyes?” Andrew didn’t answer. He just lowered his head and kissed me. The wet, warm pressure of his lips pulled at my thoughts, and soon, the question of the blindfold faded from my mind. He held my entire world in his hands, lifting me up, setting me down, each movement a perfect, calculated wave that made my heart clench and release. When the third time was over, he gently removed the sweat-dampened scarf. I looked up into his eyes, and they were as calm and placid as a still lake. Even after seeing that look a hundred times, I couldn’t help but grit my teeth. How? How could he look so completely detached, so clinical, after something like this? He stroked my cheek, a gesture meant to soothe, and started to pull away— That’s when a spark of defiance lit inside me. I quickly hooked my legs around his waist, catching him off guard. He lurched forward, his body falling heavily against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and under his startled gaze, I purred, “Can we go again?” 5 Andrew clearly hadn’t expected that. He froze for a few seconds. His gaze slid from my eyes, to my lips, down to my collarbone, and finally settled… somewhere lower. His Adam’s apple bobbed sharply. He turned his head away and said stiffly, “No.” “Why not?” The question was reflexive. I didn’t need to ask if he was capable. The moment I’d pulled him back against me, I knew he was more than capable. If he could, why say no? He wouldn’t look at me. “Too much… isn’t good for your body.” It was an answer I’d never considered. While scientifically sound, being so relentlessly logical took all the fun out of everything. I clung to him, refusing to let him go. “But what if I want to?” Andrew turned back, his eyes troubled. For the first time, I could clearly see the struggle warring within them. After a long moment, his resolve hardened. “No.” He reached out and gently smoothed my brow. “Just bear with it…” I had no intention of bearing anything. I pulled his head down and kissed him, my lips finding his with unerring accuracy. I was going to find out, once and for all, if this self-disciplined machine could truly lose control.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394440”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I found an injured werewolf. During my downtime, my favorite thing to do was bury my face in his soft, thick fur and fall asleep. Later, after he healed and transformed back into his human form, he warned me, his eyes blazing with a fierce light. “A werewolf has only one mate in their entire life. I already have a she-wolf I love, and I will never, ever accept you.” With that, he ran off. I was left standing there, utterly stunned and confused. What was he talking about? I’d been treating him like a dog. What did any of this have to do with being his mate? … Later, I bought a big, goofy Labrador. As I was walking him home, I found the werewolf crouched by my front door, a look of utter misery on his face. “You humans are so fickle,” he sobbed. “Get rid of it. Keep me instead, please? My fur is thicker and softer than his. I eat less, and I can earn money—all of it for you. “…If you don’t agree, I’ll eat that stupid mutt you’re holding!” 1 It was the third month since I’d found the werewolf when he vanished into the dark and stormy night. Right before he left, he shot me a ferocious glare and warned me, “A werewolf has only one mate in their entire life. I already have a she-wolf I love, and I will never accept you! Get those disgusting thoughts out of your head. I will never love you!” And just like that, he was gone, leaving me frozen in place, completely bewildered. What on earth was he talking about? I had been treating him like a dog this whole time. What did that have to do with being his mate? 2 Finding the werewolf was a complete accident. At first, I thought he was just a large dog. But on the third day after I brought him home, I found him transformed into a man. He was sprawled lazily across my sofa cushions, munching on potato chips while watching TV. When something funny came on, his big, fluffy tail wagged back and forth with delight. In that moment, I think my brain short-circuited. I just stood there, questioning my own sanity. Later, with a look of utter disdain, he condescendingly explained the whole werewolf thing to me. Only then did I realize he was a perfectly normal—if evolved—creature. “So, can you eat kibble?” I asked, gently kneading his ear. “Don’t—don’t do that!” His face flushed a deep crimson, radiating heat as he took a step back. He answered me seriously, “I eat meat. I would never touch dog food. I’m not one of those pathetic, tail-wagging creatures that grovel for human affection.” I just stared at him. He was going to be high-maintenance. 3 The werewolf’s departure was as sudden as it was strange. I racked my brain for a while, trying to figure out what his deal was, but eventually, I gave up. Life returned to its calm, predictable rhythm. That is, until two weeks later. A potential client asked to meet at a café to discuss a project, so I brought my laptop and went. While we were talking, my eyes drifted, and by sheer coincidence, I saw him. The werewolf. He was in his human form—tall, powerfully built, and dressed in a sharp suit. His eyes were cold and distant as he leaned against the railing of the second-floor landing, gazing down at the crowd below with an air of impatience. “Miss Hayes, do you know Mr. Blackwood?” the client asked, noticing my gaze. His voice was full of hope. “He’s a major shareholder in Apex Industries. I picked this place specifically because I know he’s a regular here. Perhaps you could introduce us?” I blinked, realizing he was talking about the werewolf. I shook my head. “No, I don’t know him. I was just thinking he’s very handsome. Sorry.” The client sighed, unable to hide his disappointment. His attitude toward me cooled for the rest of the meeting. I didn’t mind. After I finished my presentation and was getting up to pay, I saw the werewolf again. He had his head tilted, speaking to a chic, sophisticated woman. They were standing incredibly close, their bodies almost overlapping, as if he were holding her in a loose embrace. It almost looks like they’re kissing, I thought, turning my eyes away without another thought. On my way home, I passed a pet shelter and saw a big, beautiful dog in the window. A golden Labrador. I placed my hand on the glass. As if on cue, he looked up, broke into a wide, goofy grin, and lifted a paw, pressing it against the glass right where my hand was. In that instant, my decision was made. I was taking him home. 4 Having a dog was so much easier than having a werewolf. My new dog couldn’t talk, he loved his kibble, and he was impeccably behaved. Whenever I wasn’t home, he would just lounge lazily on the rug, waiting for me to come back and take him for a walk. I took him everywhere—the beach, the park, even to see the seals at the aquarium. One day, I stopped at a coffee shop, but the barista said dogs weren’t allowed inside. I tied his leash to a post by the door and told him to be a good boy. Suddenly, two figures appeared beside me. It was the werewolf, and with him, the woman from the other day. The woman stared at my Labrador’s happily wagging tail and sneered. “Dogs… such beggars for human affection. They’re a disgrace to all canines.” Beside her, the werewolf’s gaze darkened, his eyes fixed on me with a stormy expression. I ignored them both. I ruffled my Labrador’s head and whispered, “Be a good boy, sweetie. Mommy’s making you meatballs tonight.” Then, I stood up and walked right past them without a single glance. 5 When I came out, my dog was gone. The leash was unclipped, and both it and the dog had vanished. For a second, I froze. The werewolf was standing by the door, lighting a cigarette. Seeing my panic, he let out a sound that was a mix of scorn and excitement. “See? It abandoned you. How could you expect loyalty from a creature with no real intelligence?” Werewolves could smoke? I turned away from him in disgust and started walking, calling out my dog’s name and asking passersby if they’d seen a golden Labrador. After walking for over a mile with no luck, a knot of panic began to tighten in my stomach. Just as I was about to call Animal Control, that smug, irritating voice sounded beside me again. “He’s gone, so just let him go. What’s so great about that dumb mutt anyway? Can’t even follow his owner’s scent. It’s a disgrace to the canine family. And what’s so good-looking about him? All yellowish-brown, like a pile of… well, you know. You shouldn’t just get a dog, you know. Canines are very possessive…” That was it. I snapped. “What is wrong with you?” I hissed, my voice shaking with suppressed fury. He froze, his expression turning to one of pure disbelief. “You’re yelling at me? For that stupid dog? You’ve only had him for two weeks, and you’re yelling at me for him! What’s next, are you going to set him on me? You can’t do this to me.” He looked genuinely hurt. So hurt, in fact, that he looked like he was about to cry. His normally narrow wolf eyes were wide and glistening with an angry red tint. I was speechless. I had no idea what was going through his head. “He’s my dog. Of course I’m going to protect him. Besides, you’re the one who said we have nothing to do with each other.” I looked him up and down, taking in his expensive, custom-tailored suit. Then, I held out my hand. “Looks like you’re doing pretty well for yourself in the human world. You can start by paying me back for all the meat you ate while I was taking care of you. I need to buy my dog some new toys.” “You—you!” He looked like he was about to choke on his own rage, stammering, “A dumb mutt doesn’t need toys…” “Mr. Blackwood!” A man’s voice cut him off, calling from across the street. The client from the other day came jogging over, his eyes shining with excitement. He turned to me, his attitude a complete one-eighty from our last meeting. “Miss Hayes! Why didn’t you tell me you knew Mr. Blackwood? That project—we’ll sign immediately! I’ll have our legal team draw up the contract right now. If I’d known you two were so close, we wouldn’t have wasted all this time!” I just stood there. My dog was missing, and now I was being forced to work on my day off. Damn werewolf. I forced a smile, and when the client wasn’t looking, I shot the werewolf a death glare. His expression crumpled into one of even deeper hurt, his big eyes welling up with tears that threatened to spill over at any second. 6 It was already seven in the evening by the time I finished signing the contract. Exhausted, I walked out of the office building only to find one man and one dog locked in a standoff by the entrance. My golden Labrador’s body was tense, his paws scraping against the pavement as he let out a low growl, warning off the threatening “wolf” scent of the man across from him. The werewolf, however, stood with his arms crossed, an air of complete disdain on his face as he spoke to the dog in a language I couldn’t understand. …Was he actually talking to my dog? Could dogs understand the language of wolves? I stood there in disbelief for a moment before walking over and stroking my dog’s head to soothe him. “It’s okay, sweetie, don’t be angry. Mommy’s back.” The werewolf was silent for a moment, then he walked over and crouched down beside me, his head lowered. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I want you to pet me, too.” He nudged his head closer. “You took care of me, too. You can’t just pet him and not me.” I was at a loss for words. I’d already learned his identity from the client. Aiden Blackwood. The youngest son of the prestigious Blackwood family, a major shareholder in Apex Industries, one of the country’s largest tech firms. He was part of the absolute top tier of wealth and power. How could he be such a shameless wolf? I stood up, my face cold. “Was it you who took my dog earlier?” “I didn’t steal him,” he mumbled. “The leash was loose. It came off with one tug, and then he just followed the scent of a hot dog I had. It wasn’t my fault…” I just stared at him, my silence a clear accusation. He bit his lip. “Okay, fine. I was wrong.” He looked utterly dejected. “You’re just too nice to him. You pet his head, you buy him toys, you even kiss him. I got jealous. You used to only have me, your one and only wolf.” 7 “Weren’t you the one who said you already had a she-wolf you loved? That we were finished, and that I should stop lusting after you?” I asked, my voice like ice. “That woman you were with the other day… is she the one?” “You’re using my love for her to taunt me now? Is this the loyalty you were talking about?” “I’m not being disloyal! That she-wolf is my sister! My actual, born-from-the-same-mother sister!” he explained, flustered. “It was you! You were hugging another man! I got angry, and that’s why I said all those hurtful things. A werewolf has only one mate for their entire life. We’re not like you humans—so fickle, so unfaithful…” His voice grew softer and more wretched with every word until he was wiping tears away with the back of his hand. “You saved me, you saw me in my pure wolf form, you touched me and held me so many times… that makes you my mate! You can’t betray me!” I… It works like that? 8 “I don’t like you. I only touched you before because I thought you were a dog… well, a canine. I don’t know how your werewolf people define the term ‘mate,’ but in the human world, hugs and pets don’t seal the deal.” I was brutally direct with him. “I got a commission from that project, which should cover the cost of your food while you were at my place. We’re even now. I don’t like you, and I don’t want to be your mate. Please stop doing these… strange things. Goodbye. Or rather, let’s just never see each other again.” With that, I grabbed my Labrador’s leash and walked away, my pace quick, desperate to put distance between myself and this bizarre werewolf. He didn’t follow. I let out a sigh of relief. Back home, I made my dog a hearty soup with beef, tofu, and cabbage, served with a side of kibble. I sat and watched him lick the bowl clean, my heart aching for him. “That mean werewolf made my baby starve all day,” I murmured, stroking his head. “Next time we see him, we’ll bite him, okay?” My dog grinned and gave me a high-five with his paw. That night, I was drifting in a hazy state between sleep and wakefulness when I felt something soft and furry brushing against my chin. Thinking it was my dog, I instinctively pushed it away. “Lucky, stop it, honey. Let Mommy sleep.” The furry thing paused for a second, then pressed in closer, its tongue darting out to lick my neck. Once, twice. The wet, sticky sensation sent a hot shiver down my spine. My eyes snapped open and met a pair of dark, narrow ones. They were staring straight at me, as if they wanted to devour me whole. It was the werewolf.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394439”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Before the mission, I asked Stefan Goldberg one last time, “Will you marry me?” He was silent for a moment. “Fine.” My heart and the System’s virtual one dropped in unison. We’re screwed. Wasn’t the deal that after being rejected a hundred times, I could finally return to my own world? As it turned out, my panic was premature. On my final mission, I became the sacrificial lamb for his first love. Stefan spent three days by her side before he even remembered me. And when he did, all he heard was that I had died in the line of duty. 1 “Host, there’s really no need to rush.” “It’s your birthday. No one wants to be rejected on their birthday.” The only sound in the quiet hallway was my own breathing. I had just returned from a three-month overseas assignment and, despite my bone-deep exhaustion, I had come straight to find Stefan. There was only one reason. After seven years in this world, I wanted to go home. All I needed was to be rejected by Stefan Goldberg one hundred times, and I could return to my reality. And as luck would have it, the System had just informed me that only one rejection remained. Through the door, I could hear Stefan on the phone. The woman’s voice was on speaker, her sobs soft and heart-wrenching. “Stefan, I know you and Mindy have been together for three years, and I shouldn’t be bothering you, but I just… I couldn’t help it…” Her plea was met with a long, heavy silence. The woman on the other end was Stefan’s first love, Raina Lin. Over the years, she had been the primary reason for most of my rejections. Stefan changed the subject. “When are you coming back? I’ll throw you a welcome-home party.” “In what capacity?” “As your ex.” A brief silence, then her voice returned, laced with a new, defiant edge. “Well, my dear ex, I’m getting married. On the 20th of this month. You’re invited.” Stefan’s tone hardened. He bit out her name. “Raina!” She hung up. The System let out a cheer in my head. [Ooh, perfect! Host, get in there now! While he’s in a bad mood, ask him to marry you!] Normally, I would never choose such a moment to test my luck. But the hope of finally going home was a jolt of life in my weary soul. I pushed the door open and stepped into the darkness. Stefan sat before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights a glittering tapestry behind him. The glow of his phone illuminated one side of his face, tracing the sharp, perfect lines of his features. When he saw me, he blanked the screen and leaned back, his eyes closed. His voice was sharp. “What are you doing here?” See? The calendar was right there in plain sight, but he hadn’t even remembered my birthday. My palms began to sweat. “I have a mission tomorrow.” In my own world, I was a police academy graduate. So, in this one, I had chosen to be a police officer without a second thought. Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose, his tone frigid. “So? Is there something you need?” “Yes. After the mission… will you marry me?” The System exploded in my mind. [YEEEEES! I finally completed the mission! I’m getting a promotion! YES! YES! YES!] My reflection stared back at me from Stefan’s dark eyes. His brow was furrowed, a clear sign of his displeasure. I took a deep breath, lowered my head, and waited for the answer I so desperately wanted. To be honest, after loving him for so long, rejection still stung. But the System promised me money, a lot of money, real-world money I could actually spend. “Fine.” “What?” The System’s cheers came to a screeching halt. I looked up, stunned, meeting Stefan’s impossibly calm gaze. He slowly stroked the side of his phone. “I said, fine.” A few seconds later, the System and I uttered the same visceral curse. “Fuck…” 2 I hid in the bathroom, my accumulated frustration finally boiling over. “You popped the champagne too soon! You’re a real credit to your boss, you know that?!” The System was just as frantic. [It’s all your fault! Why did you have to remind him it was your birthday?! Can’t men just put away their cheap guilt?!] My head was pounding. The relentless overtime had drained every last drop of my energy. I leaned weakly against the sink. The System’s voice was small. [Maybe… you could ask him to sleep with you now?] I let out a cold laugh. “How about I ask him to die for me instead?” If only it were that easy. The architect of this game had plugged every possible loophole from the very beginning. Words like “sleep with me” or “die” were restricted. And the reasons for my requests couldn’t be repeated. After seven years, a marriage proposal was one of the few viable options left. We were at a stalemate. The sound of the faucet echoed in the small space. I sat on the toilet lid, trying to think of another request that would guarantee rejection. Suddenly, my phone rang. An unknown number. I answered, and a gentle woman’s voice came through. “Miss Crawford? This is Raina Lin.” My hand shot out and gripped the edge of the sink. At my silence, Raina let out a soft, triumphant laugh. “You probably don’t know me very well, but that’s alright. I know you very well.” “I’ve eaten the lunches you made for Stefan. I’ve worn the white shirts you washed for him. The last time he left your birthday celebration to come find me, he still had a strand of your hair caught on his tie clip.” I leaned against the cool porcelain of the bathtub, my voice like ice. “And?” Raina laughed again. “Are you genuinely stupid, or just pretending? Don’t you get it? Last year, on your birthday, I gave him my first time. This year, I chose your birthday to come back, and he forgot all about you. Do I really need to spell out who Stefan Goldberg truly loves?” I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Seven years had etched fine lines around my eyes. The eyes that once lit up at the mere sight of Stefan were now filled with a weary numbness. I took a deep breath. “No, you don’t. Because Stefan is going to marry me.” The other end went silent. Then, Raina’s voice turned sharp. “You don’t have to say things like that to spite me. You can’t win against me.” Stefan was knocking on the bathroom door. I hid the phone behind my back, swung the door open, and asked in a soft voice, “Will you come with me to try on wedding dresses tomorrow?” Stefan froze for a second, then wrapped his arms around me. His voice held a rare, gentle indulgence. “Of course. On our wedding day, you’ll be the most beautiful bride.” I hung up the phone, fighting back a wave of nausea as I accepted Stefan’s kiss. Raina, I thought, you’d better not let me down. 3 That night, I waited a long time, but no call came from Raina to Stefan. His fiery kisses trailed across my skin. Stefan seemed particularly aroused, but at the last moment, I pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him. “I have a mission tomorrow. Let’s just… leave it at this.” He was clearly unsatisfied. But I pushed him away, turned my back, and pulled the covers up to my chin. Stefan was silent for a long time before sighing. “Alright.” The sound of the shower started a moment later. The System voiced my own worry. [Did you come on too strong? Did Raina give up?] “I doubt it.” From what I knew of Raina, she would rather die than give up on Stefan. … The next day, the weather was gloomy. When I woke up, Stefan was, for once, not already gone. He was sitting at the dining table with me. The clinking of cutlery was the only sound in the living room. Stefan broke the silence. “After this mission, you should transfer to a desk job. You’ll be my wife; you don’t need to work so hard.” The System buzzed in my head: [I want a fried egg. A fried egg!] I kept my eyes down, slicing a piece of ham. “Okay.” Stefan continued, as if dictating notes to his secretary. “I’ll be at the office on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. The rest of the week, I’ll be home with you. I don’t want you coming to my office to find me.” The System wailed: [No cheese! I want noodles!] I smiled faintly. “Okay.” Stefan frowned. He watched me finish my milk, push back my chair, and start to walk away. “Mindy.” I turned back. “What?” Stefan stared at me. “You’ve never been this obedient before. What’s wrong today?” Honestly, I hadn’t heard a single word of his pointless monologue. “Nothing.” I smiled. “Maybe it’s just the impending good news.” Stefan tugged at his tie, the straight line of his lips betraying his inner frustration. See? He was a hundred times against marrying me. A corner of my mouth lifted. “Hey, Stefan. Aren’t you going to wish me a safe return?” He snapped back to the present. After a moment, he said, “Return safely.” “Thanks.” I turned and walked out. System: [Ugh, so boring. I really thought he was going to refuse to say it.] 4 In the seven years I’d been here, the city had been relatively safe. Violent crimes were rare. It figured that on my very last assignment, I’d run into one. A vicious kidnapping. The kidnapper demanded thirty million in ransom and a van for his getaway. When I arrived on the scene, a light rain was falling. My colleague, Yara, was sitting on the stairs, her eyes red. “Mindy, the negotiator is already in there. The kidnapper is demanding a hostage exchange.” “A hostage exchange?” “Yeah… because the current hostage… is a pregnant woman.” A heavy silence fell over the team. In a situation like this, if the kidnapper agreed to a swap, one of us had to go in. “So… has a choice been made?” Yara bit her lip. “He wants a woman.” There were only two female officers on the team: me and Yara. Her husband was a detective who had been injured recently and was still in the hospital. I unholstered my pistol and handed it to her. “I understand. I’ll do it.” The System shrieked in my head: [Host, this isn’t a joke! If you die by accident, you can’t go back!] But I couldn’t let Yara go. In these seven years, Yara had been with me far more than Stefan ever had. We were the best partners. Yara threw her arms around me, sobbing. “Mindy, I’m so sorry. I know you’re about to get married, I’m so sorry, but my husband… he’s still in the hospital…” “I know.” I patted her shoulder, then turned and walked into the rain. It was an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. Through the misty rain, I saw the woman in the kidnapper’s arms. Her pale face couldn’t hide her beauty. Long, dark hair was plastered to her temples, her large eyes filled with a pitiful terror. She clutched her stomach protectively. “Please, save me! I’m pregnant! I’m carrying the Goldberg family heir…” My heart skipped a beat. System: [It’s Raina.] Our eyes met through the curtain of rain. I couldn’t describe the feeling in my chest. The kidnapper viciously cut her arm with a dagger, and blood began to flow. “Get over here now! Or I’ll send her to hell!” Raina’s eyes widened in terror as she looked at me. “Mindy, please! I can’t die! Stefan will go mad! If he finds out you didn’t save me, he’ll hate you for the rest of his life…” So, she knew who I was. I glanced back at Yara. And sighed. I turned and walked toward the kidnapper. The moment the cold blade was pressed against my neck, Raina stumbled into the safety of the police perimeter. It was just me and the kidnapper. “The van I asked for!” Before I got in, my captain gave me a meaningful look. According to the plan, they would track the vehicle. I just needed to find an opportunity to help them take him down. I was bound and thrown into the passenger seat. At the last moment, I saw Stefan break through the police line and catch a fainting Raina in his arms. 5 The car sped down the empty highway. The ropes bit into my flesh, raw and bleeding. The last police car disappeared behind us in the rain. The kidnapper chuckled. “Don’t bother looking. They’re not coming for you.” “What do you mean?” He turned on the radio and started humming a tune. A news report was playing—an interview with Raina. Her words were panicked and disjointed. “I heard the kidnapper say they were meeting up in the south district! Please, you have to save her!” But we were racing north. Soon, all police resources would be diverted south. The kidnapper took me to a dilapidated shack in the countryside. He pulled out his dagger. “Miss Lin is much prettier than you. I have no idea what Mr. Goldberg sees in you.” Even if I were a complete idiot, I would have figured out by now that he and Raina were working together. I dodged his blade. “Please, just let me make one phone call.” The kidnapper sneered. “To who? Your captain? In your dreams.” “To Stefan Goldberg.” At that, the kidnapper laughed. He kicked me hard. “Officer Crawford, are you some kind of lovesick fool? Do you really think you mean anything to Stefan Goldberg?” He grabbed my hair and shoved my phone in my face. “Fine. I’ll indulge you.” A few rings, and the call was disconnected. The kidnapper grew more excited. He dialed again. Stefan hung up again. He seemed to be enjoying this, staring at my face, trying to catch a flicker of despair as he repeatedly dialed and was rejected. But I disappointed him. Enraged, he plunged the dagger into my back. A searing pain shot through me, and I let out a muffled groan. He pressed his face against my neck, his voice trembling with excitement. “Let’s play a game, shall we? Tell Stefan Goldberg your location. If he can’t get here in thirty minutes, you’ll bleed to death.” Warm liquid streamed down my back, soaking my uniform. The phone finally connected. Stefan’s voice was ice. “What is it?” My teeth were chattering from the pain. “He’s in the north district—” “Who?” “The suspect. He kidnapped me. I’m with him.” Stefan was silent for a moment. “Mindy, is this some kind of joke?” I coughed up a mouthful of blood, my words slurring. “Stefan—” “Enough.” It was the first time Stefan had ever spoken to me with such a sharp, cutting edge. “There are some things I’ve never told you. Raina is my bottom line. Don’t use this to test my feelings. If you’re jealous, then you can stay in your precious north district. I never asked you to be a hero for her.” A sickening squelch. The kidnapper stabbed me again. It hurt. “It hurts,” I gasped, clinging to the phone like a lifeline, my voice breaking into a sob. “Stefan, will you marry me? Please, just come find me now, please?” Stefan was silent for a beat, then his voice came back, cold and merciless. “Raina’s pregnant. Everything I said before… is off the table.” [Ding! Mission Objective Achieved: Rejected by the male lead 100 times.] [Congratulations, Host, on completing the mission.] [Calculating rewards…] [Calculation complete.] [Mission Reward: 80 million. Severe Injury Compensation: 30 million. Total: 110 million. Special Bonus Talent Unlocked: Police Intuition. Countdown: 3 seconds to world departure. Welcome back to reality. We wish you a happy life.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394438”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was Charles Schwartz’s most devoted admirer. When he skipped class to sleep, I covered for him. When he pursued the new transfer student, I delivered his love letters. After high school graduation, the transfer student went off to an Ivy League university. I went abroad with Charles. In that foreign land, I finally claimed my prize, feasting to my heart’s content. Until the transfer student came to the same city for postgraduate studies. When Charles once again stayed out all night with her, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was time for me to go home. The Schwartz family had paid for my entire overseas education. It would be rude to just break up with him. 1 The Schwartzs were the most powerful and influential family in our exclusive compound. Charles was the undisputed king of all the neighborhood kids. I’d followed him since we were little. He was the most fun, and by far the most handsome. If the Schwartz family hadn’t disapproved, he would have been snatched up by talent scouts and launched into stardom. Just looking at Charles’s face, I could eat an extra two bowls of rice. And the closer I was to Charles, the higher my standing at home. As we grew older, everyone became more aware of gender. The girls stopped hanging out with the boys all day. But I was different. I continued to stick to Charles like glue, utterly shameless. Charles grew into the handsome young man everyone expected. His eyes were sharp, his jawline sculpted, exuding a rakish, youthful charm. Meanwhile, I slowly became known as Charles’s “sycophant” – his eager admirer. They mocked me, scorned me, looked down on me. But they didn’t know how much I gained. Charles didn’t love me, but the Schwartzs trusted me. My family received crucial resources, and I, too, was placed in classes filled with the children of the elite, all thanks to my association with Charles. 2 High school for the children of the powerful wasn’t tedious. Their paths were meticulously planned from birth, every road leading to success. Even if one path closed, they could simply conjure another. I was different. My family could only guarantee me a life of comfort and ensure my social standing wasn’t a detriment in circles that valued lineage. Therefore, I clung to Charles even tighter. When he skipped class, I provided cover. When he slept, I copied his homework. Even when he became infatuated with Sophia Miller, the new transfer student, I was the one who gathered intelligence. Sophia was a tenacious little wild rose, admitted on a full scholarship and grants. Countless girls had pursued Charles – innocent ones, seductive ones, children of celebrities, children of politicians – but all had returned empty-handed. I’d even begun to suspect Charles didn’t like women. But the moment Sophia walked to the front of the classroom and introduced herself, it was like a switch flipped in him. He had no idea how to pursue someone, yet he clumsily chased Sophia for three months. This gave me the perfect opportunity. I outmaneuvered the other male admirers, leveraging my position to serve Charles to the fullest. Oh, and by the way, those male admirers never called themselves sycophants. They considered themselves Charles’s childhood friends. It seemed that because I was a girl, my deference to Charles was “sycophancy,” but their flattery was “friendship.” How amusing. I bought Sophia breakfast. I played tennis with her during gym class. Sophia had never encountered anyone so kind in this school. Her eyes were filled with gratitude and trust when she looked at me. It was then that I handed her the love letter I had prepared long ago. Sophia froze, her expression disbelieving. I quickly added, “It’s from Charles Schwartz.” As expected, Sophia tossed the letter into the trash. Charles went to confront her, only to be called a “spoiled trust fund baby.” After that, Sophia stopped speaking to me altogether. I didn’t care. I was too busy consoling a heartbroken Charles. He’d lived a life of uninterrupted ease; this was his first real setback. He pretended indifference, drinking as if it didn’t matter, but two glasses later, he was completely drunk. In his stupor, he cradled my face in his hands, asking me repeatedly, “Why? Why doesn’t she like me?” I whispered gently, “She just has no taste.” “Charles, I like you.” I saw a flicker of clarity in his hazy eyes. 3 After Sophia rejected him, Charles suddenly became like some of his childhood friends, cycling through girlfriends at a rapid pace. A new one every week. Sometimes, one might even last a month. But his gaze never truly left Sophia. Soon, the high school finals arrived. After the exams, Sophia was accepted into a prestigious Ivy League university. Charles chose to study abroad. When I visited the Schwartz estate to deliver some homemade desserts from my mother, Mrs. Schwartz asked me about my plans. I feigned nonchalance. “It depends on my scores, I suppose. You know, Aunt Eleanor, I’m not really cut out for academics.” I was, in fact, quite skilled. But my high school years had been entirely dedicated to looking after Charles. When he had a fever or a cold, I was the first to contact the Schwartz family secretary. When he went abroad to party, I was the one who kept them updated. Mrs. Schwartz looked thoughtful. That summer was an excruciating wait for me. Others waited for their scores, their university acceptance letters, the start of a new semester. I waited for Lady Luck to smile upon me. Finally. On a tranquil summer evening, Mrs. Schwartz called personally, inviting my family to dinner. I still remember how cool the breeze was that night, how crisp the cicadas chirped. She didn’t know how long I had been holding my breath before that call. I had won the gamble. My future would be intertwined with Charles’s for a long time. As bright as Charles’s future was, so too would mine be blessed with favors and opportunities. A month later, Charles and I departed for overseas. A top-tier university. Charles’s “friends” looked at me with open envy. “Summer, do you really enjoy being his doormat?” “Aren’t you afraid you’ll never get married like this? Oh, wait, you can just cling to Charles your entire life, like a parasite, and bring your kids along with you.” See, see? The ugliness of a man’s jealousy. 4 After moving abroad, Charles’s appeal only grew. His features had matured. The blend of boyishness and masculine refinement, sharp angles mixed with a subtle sensuality, made hearts flutter. I continued to serve him diligently, enduring his every whim. During his first year abroad, Charles let loose completely. He might be in Seattle in the morning and Los Angeles by evening. His parade of girlfriends still changed weekly. Around the holidays, Mr. Schwartz’s mistress, along with their thirteen-year-old illegitimate son, caused a scene with Mrs. Schwartz. Mrs. Schwartz told Charles not to come home. I stayed with Charles, and we spent the holidays together in New York. While we were waiting for the new year, he suddenly asked me, “Summer, can a person’s heart truly remain unchanged?” I didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” I said. Charles smiled. “But I think… I might not like Sophia anymore. I can’t even remember what she looks like. Yet back then, I thought I’d never loved anyone like that before…” I thought he was simply drawn to someone completely different from himself. What kind of love was that? But if he were to ask me what love was, I wouldn’t have an answer either. No one had ever taught us. The fireworks outside the window illuminated Charles’s impossibly beautiful face. On a whim, I grabbed the lapel of his shirt and pressed my lips against his perfect mouth. The rhythm of adults is fast. By the time Charles reacted, the arrow was already released. A flash of annoyance crossed his face as he looked at me. “Are you sure about this?” The coursework at a top-tier university was challenging. And I still had to be Charles’s caretaker. I needed to release some pent-up energy. Charles, this is your task. This is my well-deserved reward. I ran my hands over his sculpted abs and answered his question. I truly was eating well. Charles’s eyes darkened, as if he meant to devour me whole. He was spoiled, arrogant, extravagant… full of flaws. But his physical form was a rare treasure. And it happened to fall into my hands. I was unleashing years of suppressed pressure. My suffocating childhood, the dysfunctional family dynamics, had left me constantly on edge. I spent it all lavishly on Charles. He responded to my passion, seemingly tireless. “Summer, do you really like me that much?” I nodded wildly. “Summer, don’t regret this.” He stared at me with an intense gaze, as if trying to pierce my soul. For a moment, I had the fleeting illusion that he might actually like me. After that night, Charles and I were together. There was no formal confession, no public announcement. But he stopped seeing other women. Once, an Asian-American girl pursued him relentlessly. He finally snapped, telling her he already had a girlfriend. This caused a ripple effect. Many people began asking who Charles’s girlfriend was. A few days later, I received a call from Mrs. Schwartz. She inquired about my studies and then deposited a seven-figure sum into my account for living expenses. Just before hanging up, she said, “Thank you for taking such good care of Charles.” Before I could react, the line was dead. She knew everything. Her perception of my role was like that of a live-in companion of convenience from ancient times – a woman kept for utility. Charles walked in right then. “Summer, what are you dawdling for?” I looked up, smiling. “Coming.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394437”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The second year after my birth parents took me in, my entire family was dragged into a horror game. A Siren, his silk robes hanging open to reveal a half-finished skin he was painting onto himself, asked his victims if he was beautiful with a voice that chilled the bone. A Vase Maiden giggled as she rolled across the floor, searching for a replacement to star in her little show. I stared at the familiar faces in this terrifyingly familiar place, and with a sharp cry, I clapped my hands over my eyes. “Elara? Lysander? What in the world are you two doing?!” The Siren froze, swiftly pulling his robes shut. The Vase Maiden instantly sprouted a body, suddenly looking prim and proper. “Oh, our little star,” they murmured in unison. “What are you doing back here?” 1 [Attention all players, you have now entered the Horror Game.] [Current Instance: Hollow Creek] [Difficulty: SSS-Rank. This is a Merged Instance.] [Objective: Survive for ten days.] [Number of Players: 10] [Good luck to all players.] The robotic voice echoed in my ears, leaving me dazed. A moment ago, I was in the middle of a family tribunal, locked in a crying competition with my sister, Cassandra. Cassandra was bawling because her final exam scores were lower than mine, milking it for all the parental sympathy she could get. I was crying out of sheer terror. I’ve always been able to see things others can’t. Right then, a phantom doll was perched on Cassandra’s shoulder, while the ghost of a woman clung to her back. In the blink of an eye—the time it took to wipe away a tear—my surroundings had changed completely. I looked around. Besides my family of five, there were five strangers. Cassandra, trembling, burrowed into our mother’s arms. “Where are we?” she shrieked. “What is this place?” My father, Robert, shielded my brother Nathan like a mother hen, his eyes darting around nervously. I stood off to the side, completely alone. The five strangers—three men and two women—seemed to know each other. Their leader, a man with a jagged scar across his face whom the others called Blade, glared at us. “Dammit. What rotten luck,” he grumbled. “An SSS-rank Merged Instance, and we get saddled with five rookies.” “Look at them,” another one scoffed. “Useless. All they do is cry.” “So damn loud.” I cautiously approached them, picking out a woman who seemed slightly less hostile. “Excuse me,” I asked, my voice small. “Do you know where we are?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow, her sharp features giving her an air of superiority. “Well, look at that. A newbie who knows how to use her mouth. A rare find.” Her gaze flickered dismissively toward Cassandra. “Better than the professional mourners over there, at least.” She gave me a once-over. “This is the Horror Game. People with intense desires are usually the ones who get pulled in. Clear an instance, you get points. Points can be exchanged for anything—a longer life, money, power. Anything you want.” “And if you fail the game?” I asked, my heart sinking. Her expression darkened, a wave of sorrow washing over her. “You die. You become fuel for the game.” She paused, her eyes meeting mine again. “My name’s Sienna. Stick with me. You can call me Sienna.” A surprised smile bloomed on my face. Tough on the outside, but kind on the inside. I’d chosen the right person. “Okay, thank you, Sienna.” “I’m Seraph. You can call me Seraph.” 2 Suddenly, lines of text materialized in the air, a live chat feed visible only to us. [SSS-Rank Merged Instance? These guys are toast.] [The Hollow Creek instance has three bosses. Survive ten days? They’ll be lucky to last three.] [That newbie Seraph hit the jackpot, latching onto Sienna right away.] [What kinda luck do Blade and Sienna have? SSS-rank, five dead-weight rookies… Someone play ‘Taps’ for them.] I stared at the floating comments in fascination. “Sienna,” I whispered, “I can see this chat. Can you?” “Normal,” she replied curtly. “Every instance is live-streamed to boost our survival odds. You can get intel from the comments.” I nodded, only half-understanding. An iron gate before us creaked open slowly, and in a blink, we were standing in a quaint, old-fashioned town. But this town… it was chillingly familiar. It looked exactly like the one at the foot of the mountain where I grew up, before my birth parents found me. Even the stone griffin at the town entrance, with its chipped wing, was identical. [Mission One: Enter Hollow Creek and evade the Vase Maiden’s attack.] [It is the annual Midsummer Festival, and Hollow Creek is alive with celebration. On the main stage, the ringmaster has unveiled his main attraction: the Vase Maiden. Tormented by her limbless form, she seeks a replacement to take her place in the show.] [The Vase Maiden will appear in thirty seconds. Players are advised to hide immediately. Anyone caught will be assimilated and become the new Vase Maiden.] [The show begins in ten minutes. Good luck.] 3 The announcement sent everyone scattering, scrambling for cover. Sienna grabbed my arm and pulled me into a large wooden wardrobe inside a nearby cottage. Instinctively, Cassandra and my mother, Eleanor, followed us, piling in right behind me. The cramped space was now suffocating with four people. Sienna scowled, clearly wanting to find a new spot, but it was too late. With a grimace, she pressed herself against the wall of the wardrobe. A hollow, scraping sound began outside, growing closer, accompanied by a mournful, lilting song: “The hills are green, oh, the road is long~” The Vase Maiden giggled between verses as she rolled around, searching. “Are you in here?” she cooed. “Or maybe… over here? Hee hee~” The scraping sound rolled through the town, then suddenly stopped. A shrill laugh pierced the silence. “Found you~!” A man’s horrifying scream tore through the air. It sounded horribly familiar. It sounded like my father. Tears streamed down my mother’s face as she clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling a sob, her body rigid with fear. [Player Robert Sterling has failed the mission. Assimilated by the Vase Maiden. Remaining survivors: 9] The chat feed exploded. [This is SSS-rank for you. Someone dies two minutes in.] [That rookie had the worst luck. Caught almost instantly.] [Wait, wasn’t that his son next to him? He shoved his own father out to die! That’s cold-blooded.] [Oh god, the assimilation process is brutal. They’re tearing off his limbs and stuffing him in the vase right now.] Reading the chat’s graphic descriptions of my father’s fate, Cassandra and my mother began to sob uncontrollably. I just felt a hollow sort of pity. In the year since they’d found me, I’d been blamed for everything and hit more times than I could count. I couldn’t find any tears for him. 4 The scraping sound started again. This time, it stopped right outside our wardrobe. A chilling voice whispered, “Is anyone in here?” Everyone inside the wardrobe froze, holding their breath. “Hee hee hee… I see you… I see you.” “Don’t hide… Come out and play…” Beside me, Cassandra’s body went ramrod straight. Sienna held up a finger, silently warning us not to move. The chat was buzzing with advice: [She’s bluffing! Don’t open the door!] [Damn, this boss is smart. She’s trying to bait them out.] [It’s no good. You have to sacrifice one person. Once the Vase Maiden kills someone in a room, she won’t return to it.] The scraping sound moved into the cottage. My mother and Cassandra exchanged a look—a silent, desperate agreement. Then, with a unified shove, they pushed me out of the wardrobe. Sienna gasped, her hand shooting out to grab me, but she was too late. I stumbled forward and fell right at the feet of the Vase Maiden. A beautiful porcelain vase with the head of a gorgeous woman perched on top. Skin like cream, a face like a blossoming rose. So, so familiar. Our eyes met, and tears instantly welled in mine. “Elara,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “What have they done to you?” Chapter 5 The chat feed was flooded with question marks. [????] [Is the girl delirious from fear? Why’s she calling the monster a name?] [It’s over. The Vase Maiden is gonna be pissed. Hope this newbie gets a quick death.] [The Vase Maiden literally rips people’s limbs off. For a stunt like this? It’s gonna be so much worse. A moment of silence for her.] Seeing my tears, the Vase Maiden jolted. In a flash, her form shifted. The porcelain vase melted away, reforming into a stunning, form-fitting silk gown. A full body materialized beneath it, graceful and elegant. She produced a honey cake from thin air and gently pressed it into my hand, her voice soft and soothing. “Oh, my little star, what are you doing back here? Don’t cry, don’t cry. Your big sister is just… working a temp job.” Her voice was laced with panic. “Did I scare you? I’m so sorry.” “Here, have something sweet. It’ll make you feel better.” The Vase Maiden was none other than Elara, my eldest sister-in-training from the Sanctuary, the one who had practically raised me. I was seventeen when my birth parents found me. Before that, my entire life had been at the Sanctuary on Azure Mountain. From my earliest memories, it was always Elara and Lysander by my side. Elara taught me to read, flew kites with me, bought me snacks and my first phone, and baked the best cakes. But seeing her now, her true form crammed into that tiny vase… an unbearable ache filled my chest. The chat was stunned silent, then erupted. [Wait, the Vase Maiden is ACTUALLY her sister?!] [Does this newbie have some kind of mind-control skill? How can a player have a connection to a BOSS?] [I don’t believe it. The Vase Maiden actually showed mercy.] [Am I the only one who noticed the BOSS LITERALLY GREW A BODY for this player?] Seeing a familiar face, all the misery and injustice I’d felt at the Sterling’s house came rushing back. The tears I’d been holding back now streamed down my cheeks. All the times Cassandra had framed me, all the times my parents had ignored me… I’d wanted to run back to the Sanctuary, but I could never find the way. 6 My sobbing intensified, and Elara went into full-blown panic mode. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry! Tell me what’s wrong. Tell your sister everything.” Her eyes narrowed, her gaze locking onto the wardrobe where my mother and Cassandra were hiding. A dangerous glint appeared in her eyes, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Are they treating you badly? That family of yours… Say the word, and I’ll end them for you.” The threat, cold and lethal, made the two women in the wardrobe tremble. I just shook my head, unable to speak. Elara thought for a moment. She pulled out a smartphone, quickly opened up my favorite streaming show, and pressed it into my hands, gently patting my back. “There, there, my little treasure. Don’t cry. Your sister is fine, see? Everything’s fine.” Suddenly, her body tensed. “Little star,” she said, her expression apologetic, “I have to get back to work. It’s… busy. You just watch your show, okay? I’ll come find you later.” Her phoenix-like eyes flickered to the wardrobe again. She shot a withering glare at my mother and Cassandra before pointing at Sienna. “You. Come here.” Sienna hesitated for a second before stepping out. Elara handed her a pile of snacks—honey cakes, peach tarts, chips, soda. “My little sister is timid, and she loves to eat. Take care of her for me. Protect her.” When Sienna nodded, Elara smiled, satisfied. She tossed a dagger to her. “This is your payment for looking after her.” [Congratulations, Player Sienna, you have obtained the SS-Rank Attack Item: Dagger of Shadows.] Sienna stared at the ornate dagger, her expression one of utter disbelief. Elara then knelt and tied a small silver bell to my belt. “Little sister, if you need me, just ring this.” [Congratulations, Player Seraph, you have obtained the SS-Rank Summoning Item: Silver Bell.] I nodded, wanting to ask her to stay but managing only to whisper, “Be safe, Elara.” With her instructions given, Elara closed the cottage door behind her. The hollow, scraping sound of the vase started up once more outside. 7 After Elara left, everyone still alive looked at me with an impossibly complex mix of awe, fear, and jealousy. The chat, which had been quiet, roared back to life. [Damn. Everyone else comes to these instances to survive. This girl came for a vacation.] [I’m so jealous I could scream. She just got two SS-rank items handed to her?] [Did this newbie trigger a hidden questline? Why is the Vase Maiden so soft on her?] [I’m reporting Seraph for cheating! This is impossible! Last time the Vase Maiden appeared, she killed nine people in ten minutes!] I ignored the chat’s uproar. Sienna looked at me, her expression a whirlwind of emotions. “Seraph,” she began hesitantly, “you know the Vase Maiden?” I finished chewing the piece of honey cake in my mouth and corrected her. “She’s not the Vase Maiden. She’s Elara, the eldest sister from my home, the Sanctuary. And she’s the kindest, gentlest person in the world…” I launched into a gushing speech, singing her praises. The chat was speechless. [Are you kidding me? The Vase Maiden? Kind and gentle?] [I want to see you say that again when she’s tearing a man limb from limb.] The flood of information was overwhelming. Cassandra finally snapped out of her shock and lunged at me, ready to strike, but Sienna kicked her away with a sharp movement. “Seraph! Why are you so damn lucky?!” Cassandra shrieked. My mother, Eleanor, marched forward, her hand raised to slap me. Sienna caught her wrist in an iron grip. Eleanor’s face was contorted with grief and fury. “You knew her! Why didn’t you save your father?! You let him die such a horrible death!” Before I could answer, the chat jumped to my defense. [? Is this woman serious? Seraph didn’t know it was her sister.] [I’ve seen shameless people before, but this mother-daughter duo takes the cake.] [Wow. Just… wow. What a pair of witches.] I wasn’t known for my patience, and with Elara backing me up, I fired back. “I didn’t know it was her! And even if I did, why would I have saved him?!” My mother stared at me, aghast. “He was your father!” “Was he?” I shot back. “You could’ve fooled me. From the way you all treated me, I thought I was just some stray you picked up off the street.” It was the truth. When my birth parents brought me home, I discovered they had already adopted another girl, Cassandra, to replace me. From day one, they criticized me for not being “sophisticated” enough, for lacking the “grace of a wealthy heiress.” Cassandra and my brother Nathan went out of their way to torment me, and my parents always looked the other way. I even had to earn my own allowance by telling fortunes for strangers. My words left my mother stunned, her shock quickly turning to rage. She pointed a trembling finger at me, calling me ungrateful, but Sienna shut her up with a sharp glare that could cut glass. 8 Screams echoed from outside the cottage as the system continued its grim broadcast. [Player Donovan has failed the mission. Assimilated by the Vase Maiden. Remaining survivors: 8] [Player Lynn has failed the mission. Assimilated by the Vase Maiden. Remaining survivors: 7] The ten minutes passed quickly, with no more deaths. We pushed open the door and met up with the other three survivors. We all looked shaken and disheveled, but the game waited for no one. The Vase Maiden’s show was about to begin. The stage was a cacophony of music and celebration. Three large vases, each half the height of a person, sat center stage, covered with red cloths. A ringmaster gave an impassioned speech about the wonders of the Vase Maidens. Then, with a flourish, he whipped off the cloths. Inside each vase was the twisted body of a dead player—my father and the two others. Their heads lolled against the rims of the vases, their faces ashen and defeated, like wilted flowers. The “Vase People” were paraded around the stage for the townspeople’s amusement. The remaining players turned away, unable to watch. A chilling sense of “that could have been me” settled over us. Nathan’s face was pale as a sheet as he covered his mouth, trying not to be sick. The somber mood didn’t last long. The system issued its next mission.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394436”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After Liam Harrison and I broke up, I found out I was three months pregnant. I raised our daughter, Ellie, alone for five years. But working three jobs took its toll, and a sudden stroke claimed my life. I floated in the air, a voiceless spirit. And then, I saw him. Liam Harrison, now a celebrated, award-winning actor, was knocking on the door of my small apartment. 01 It took a while for the door to open. “Who are you?” The one who opened it was my daughter, Ellie. She had to stand on her tiptoes just to reach the door latch. Her eyes, usually so bright, were wary as she looked up at my ex-boyfriend—her biological father, Liam Harrison. Seeing it wasn’t me, Ellie immediately tried to close the door. Liam wedged his foot in the gap. He frowned. “Where’s Serena Vance?” Ellie paused for a moment, then looked up, a bright, disarming smile lighting her face. “Oh, you’re looking for Mommy? She’s not home right now.” “She’s at work.” Liam’s expression darkened. He asked another question: “Where’s your dad?” [It’s you! You are her father, Liam!] I yelled desperately in the air, but he couldn’t hear me. Ellie thought for a moment. “My daddy is far away, making a lot of money. Mommy said once he makes enough, he’ll come back to pick us up.” Liam’s brow furrowed tighter. Suddenly, he gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. He muttered to himself, low enough for only him to hear. “God, I must be crazy. I actually thought she might still be waiting for me.” With that, he turned to leave. But he stopped abruptly. He asked Ellie for her full name. “Eleanor Vance.” “Mommy says I’m her little treasure, so she calls me Ellie.” Ellie said this with immense pride. Liam’s gaze searched her face, lingering, as if seeking some undeniable proof. But in the end, he said nothing. He stepped into his long, black sedan. I watched the car retreat into the distance, screaming silently. [Don’t go, Liam! If you leave, what will happen to our Ellie?] [She’s only five! How is she supposed to survive alone?] I gently pleaded with my daughter, who was blinking innocently at the dust of the departing car. [Ellie, sweetheart, chase after him! Mommy isn’t here anymore. He’s the only one who can take care of you now.] But Ellie couldn’t hear me either. She simply mumbled, “What a strange man,” and closed the door. In that moment, I wished I could slap myself. Why didn’t I tell Ellie who her father was sooner? Why didn’t I ever show her a picture of him? All of this was my fault. My death didn’t matter. But what about my daughter? 02 Ellie sat inside, swinging her short legs, waiting for me to come home. The last streaks of twilight faded. The sky grew heavy and dark. By all accounts, I should have been back hours ago. Ellie was terrified of the dark. But I was dead. My colleagues had just received the notification from the hospital: I had succumbed to my illness despite all efforts. They needed to notify my next of kin. But when they opened my phone, the ‘Family’ section in my contact list was empty. However, they knew I had a child. That evening, the home phone rang. Ellie, with her little legs pumping, rushed to answer it. “Hello?” Her small, childish voice brought tears to my colleague’s eyes. She didn’t know how to tell a little girl that her mother was dead. And wasn’t ever coming back. “Is that Mommy?” Ellie’s voice was excited. “Are you working late again? It’s okay, Ellie’s fine. I’m not hungry at all. I just ate the bread Mommy bought me.” She patted her round tummy proudly. “Ellie, your mother… she passed away a little while ago.” Ellie asked, confused: “Passed away? Where did she go? That’s okay, Mommy always takes Ellie with her when she goes far away.” Once, due to a work assignment, I had to travel to a neighboring state. I didn’t feel safe leaving Ellie alone. So, I brought her along. It was Ellie’s first time on a train, and she was ecstatic, pointing at the scenery outside the window. So now, Ellie thought I was just away on another business trip. My colleague sighed, unsure how to proceed. She simply hung up. Later, she represented the company and arranged for my cremation. All that was left of me was an urn of ashes. 03 That night dragged on, interminably long. It was the first night I hadn’t come home. Every so often, Ellie would run to the door, checking for a glimpse of me. But the darkness would quickly frighten her back inside. She ran back and forth countless times. Overcome by exhaustion, she finally fell asleep clutching the teddy bear I had bought her. The sun rose. A rooster crowed somewhere nearby. She woke up with a start. And rushed to the door again. Seeing I still hadn’t returned, a flicker of disappointment crossed Ellie’s face. But she quickly comforted herself. “It’s okay. Mommy is just very busy. She’ll be home soon.” Having eaten little all night, Ellie’s tummy rumbled. She had no choice but to snack on the remaining bread. Then, she unwrapped the carton of milk I had purchased. Mimicking my actions, she tried to heat the milk on the stove. “Mommy said cold drinks are bad, or I’ll get a tummy ache.” Ellie talked to herself as she carried the small pot, filled with water. But her hands were tiny. How could she manage? I watched, frantic, pleading with her to stop. But I was powerless. Ellie stood on a stool, just about to place the pot on the stove. But she lost her grip. Water splashed everywhere. The heavy pot crashed down onto her small foot, instantly swelling the tender skin. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart by blades. Yet, I was also relieved it hadn’t been boiling water. Ellie began to sob quietly. Then, she quickly hugged her foot and started blowing on it. “Mommy’s not here, so Ellie will blow on it herself. It won’t hurt then.” She wiped her tears. She dragged the stool back. She sat in the living room, her eyes fixed on the door. “Don’t cry, Ellie. When Mommy comes back, she’ll say I was very brave.” Ellie was so good. So sensible. Sensible enough to break my heart. I desperately wished she would resent me, curse me for being an unfit mother. Instead, she waited, so patiently, so sweetly, for my return. 04 Two hours later. A car stopped outside the apartment door. My former colleague knocked. Ellie was ecstatic, thinking it was me. She ran so fast she stumbled. Her leg scraped against a sharp stone. But she only winced, quickly scrambled up, and rushed to open the door. When she saw it wasn’t me, her composure shattered. She burst into heart-wrenching sobs. “Mommy, why haven’t you come home yet?” “Ellie’s foot is swollen, and my leg hurts, but Ellie was brave!” “But Mommy still isn’t here. Mommy doesn’t love Ellie anymore!” “Does Mommy hate me?” Ellie’s cries were tearing my heart to shreds. My colleague rushed to comfort her. She found the first-aid kit and gently cleaned Ellie’s leg with antiseptic, applying a plaster. Once everything was calm. My colleague brought in my urn and the box of personal effects from the company. Ellie looked confused. But then she saw a framed photo we’d taken recently at the fair. In the picture, I was hugging Ellie, and we were both smiling widely. She recognized me. She asked my colleague, “Miss, are these all my mommy’s things? Then where is my mommy?” The colleague held back her tears. She pointed to the urn. “Your mommy is right here, sweetheart. If you miss her, you can hug this and talk to her.” Ellie shook her head vigorously. “My mommy can’t be a jar! She’s not like those characters in storybooks who can change shape! You’re lying!” She hugged the photograph tightly. “This is my mommy.” She pressed a sweet kiss to the photo, smiling softly. My colleague sighed, placing the urn on a high shelf. She looked around the tiny, dilapidated apartment. “Where is your father? Are you all alone here?” Ellie lowered her head. “Mommy said Daddy went far away to make money. I’ve never met my daddy.” The colleague was shocked. “Do you have any other family? Grandparents? Aunts or uncles?” Ellie shook her head. The woman couldn’t hold back her tears any longer and pulled Ellie into a hug. “You poor, poor child.” “You’re so young. How could your mother bear to leave you alone?” Ellie argued fiercely. “Mommy would never leave me! Mommy loves Ellie the most.” The colleague slipped a card into Ellie’s hand. “This is the compensation money from the company after your mother’s death. There’s twenty thousand dollars on this card. The pin is six eights. Keep it safe, don’t lose it.” Ellie nodded seriously. She clutched the card tightly. Because of our poverty, I had taught Ellie from a young age that money was precious and must be protected. She remembered. After careful consideration. The colleague called the local Child Protective Services. It was the institution designated for children without guardians. I was immensely grateful, bowing repeatedly in the air before the woman. [Thank you so much.] If Ellie could be placed in an orphanage, at least she would survive. 05 When the Child Protective Services came to pick Ellie up, she refused to go. She clung to the door, screaming and wailing. “You’re kidnappers! Don’t take Ellie! Ellie isn’t worth anything!” The CPS workers tried to smile through their distress. The lead social worker, a kindly woman, knelt down. She spoke gently. “I’m not a kidnapper, dear. We’re taking Ellie to a new place where she can stay.” Ellie frowned. She told them seriously. “This is my home! If you take me away, Mommy won’t see me when she comes home, and she’ll be worried!” I covered my mouth, tears streaming down my incorporeal face. The social workers exchanged glances, their eyes moist. They gently coaxed her. “Ellie, sweetie, your mommy asked us to bring you here. Your mommy has to travel for a while and won’t be back immediately, so she wants us to take care of you.” “Besides, there are lots of kids like you there, so you won’t be lonely.” Ellie listened carefully. She blinked her big eyes, staring at them. “Really?” “Of course.” Only then did Ellie slowly release the door. But before getting into the car. Ellie ran back inside. She grabbed the teddy bear I had bought her and the photograph. She hugged them tightly to her chest. The car started moving. It was Ellie’s first time traveling with strangers. The calm she had forced earlier vanished. Fear and panic rushed in. She finally burst into tears. “Mommy, Ellie will be very good and very obedient.” “Please hurry and come get Ellie, okay?” I followed the car, floating behind. Wherever Ellie went, I followed. But she couldn’t see me. And I couldn’t touch her. 06 On her first day at the St. Jude’s Children’s Home, Ellie was strangely silent. She just stared blankly out the window. Every time someone passed, she would widen her eyes, scrutinizing them, searching for me. When she realized it wasn’t me. Her face held only disappointment. A curious boy approached her, trying to start a conversation. “Why did you come to the Home?” Ellie answered seriously: “My mommy had to go away, so she sent me here. But she’s coming to pick me up soon.” The boy seemed to mock her innocence. He suddenly snatched the teddy bear from her hands. “Your mommy abandoned you.” “She’s not coming back for you.” “What’s this? Let me play with it.” Ellie was furious. She rushed forward, shoving the boy to the ground. “You’re lying!” “My mommy would never abandon me!” “That’s the teddy bear my mommy gave me! Give it back!” The boy was equally aggressive, quickly climbing back up. He pushed my Ellie to the ground. He was a year or two older than Ellie. His strength was naturally greater. He straddled Ellie. He yanked at her hair and clothes. He even tore the teddy bear, and white cotton stuffing burst out of its broken seam. “I’m not lying! Your mom doesn’t want you! All the kids here were abandoned by their parents!” “It’s just a broken toy, I don’t even want it.” Ellie hugged the damaged bear. Fighting back hard. “You’re a liar! I don’t believe you!” “Don’t rip my bear! Mommy gave it to me!” The noise alerted a staff member. She hurried over. She separated the two children. After learning what happened, she severely scolded the boy. But the boy didn’t think he had done anything wrong. “I just told the truth! Her mom is never coming back!” “She’s the one who pushed me!” He made a face and ran off. Ellie stood there. Her hair was a mess, her clothes stained with dirt from the floor. She looked like a defeated fighter. But she still insisted, “My mommy would never abandon me.” “Don’t try to fool me.” From then on. Ellie became even quieter. The other children stopped interacting with her. They whispered privately that she had been abandoned but was too stubborn to admit it. Whenever Ellie heard the whispers. She would quickly walk away. But I saw her retreat to a deserted spot, hugging her damaged teddy bear, and secretly wiping away tears. “Mommy, is what they said true? Did you really abandon me?” I gently wrapped my arms around Ellie. Just like I used to hug her to sleep. [Ellie, Mommy is always here. Mommy would never abandon you.] [Mommy is with you forever.] 计费点 07 A month passed. Ellie ate very little. And slept even less. Her once round, cherubic cheeks had grown sharp and thin. The laughter in her eyes had faded. She no longer looked out the window or at the door. She stopped nagging the staff, asking: “Did my mommy come for me today?” Today, the Children’s Home was unusually bustling. I heard the director talking and learned the reason: Liam Harrison was coming to visit the children today. Apparently, after becoming a major star, he donated a lot of money to the Home. And he visited this specific Home every year. I knew why. We had both grown up in this Home. I felt a surge of hope. If he saw Ellie. He would surely realize I was gone. And surely, he wouldn’t be heartless enough to let our Ellie stay here. After all, we had once loved each other so very much. A crowd of people gathered at the entrance, waiting for the philanthropist, Liam Harrison. Even the children flocked towards the door. Only Ellie watched the excitement with cold indifference. [Ellie, sweetheart, go to the door! Your daddy is coming soon!] [If he sees you, maybe you won’t have to stay here anymore.] [You could have a good life. Then Mommy could rest easy.] She couldn’t hear my words. But she picked up a crayon, and in clumsy, childish handwriting, she wrote a note. [Ellie is going to find Mommy. Don’t look for me.] She placed the note next to her pillow. Then, she started running. But she didn’t join the group at the entrance. She ran in the opposite direction. I was shocked and frantic. [Ellie, what are you doing? Where are you going!] She ran faster and faster. I had thought she had accepted the Home. Accepted the reality that I wouldn’t come for her. It wasn’t until I saw the note that I understood. She was leaving the Home. If I wouldn’t come for her. She would find me herself. … A Maybach pulled up to the entrance of the Home. His manager, Ryan Lee, shielded Liam as he stepped out. A swarm of people greeted him. No one noticed that Ellie had slipped away. Just moments ago. Just that close. Liam would have seen Ellie. Now, she was alone outside. How would she survive?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394435”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our fifth wedding anniversary, Simon promised me a grand wedding. He said he regretted that we never had a proper ceremony when we first got married. He said I would be the most beautiful bride. Then, on the day of the wedding, he got a text message and bolted. I chased after him in my heavy, cumbersome gown. “Karen,” he said, trying to soothe me, “something really important came up at the office. I have to go.” His lies were so clumsy, but I no longer had the energy to call him out on them. Because I had cancer. I didn’t have much time left. 1 Simon didn’t know that I had received the message first. I was sitting at the vanity, the chime of a notification breaking the silence. I opened my phone and saw the words: “Karen Grant, I will never bother you again. Are you satisfied now?” My heart hammered against my ribs. Before I could even process it, I saw Simon glance down at his own phone, and then, with a look of pure panic, he rushed out of the room. He was always so calm, so composed. I had never seen him like that before. I stood up to follow him, nearly tripping over the hem of my dress. I stumbled, my knee slamming into the doorframe with a searing pain. He didn’t even look at me. He just slammed the car door shut, leaving me with those words hanging in the air. For this wedding, I had chosen a strapless, mermaid-style gown, even in the cool autumn air. I had hoped, just once, for a beautiful moment in my life. Just one. And he left me there, alone, in front of all our friends and family. For a split second, I wanted to run. I was so tired. I didn’t want to clean up the mess he had left for me. He was the one who had promised me a surprise. He was the one who had filled me with hope. And he was the one who abandoned me. But I looked at the expectant faces in the crowd. We weren’t a young couple, going through the motions of a wedding. We were a married couple, five years in, who had carefully considered who to invite. These were our closest friends, our family—less than six tables in total. My college roommates were there, friends from work, people who had traveled from far away to be a part of my “silly, romantic dream.” My body felt stiff as I turned back. I changed into something simpler and then went from table to table, playing the gracious host. Simon’s best friend joked, “You two really know how to keep things interesting! A wedding after five years of marriage. Make sure you invite us to your golden and silver anniversaries too!” I smiled and said of course. But I knew in my heart, there would be no more anniversaries. Even if I lived that long, our marriage wouldn’t. My best friend, Zoe, rubbed my hands. “Your hands are freezing! And where’s Simon?” I forced a smile. “Oh, you know him. Workaholic. The office called him in for an emergency.” She squeezed my hand tightly. We had known each other for over a decade; we could read each other’s minds. I met her worried gaze and almost broke down right there. I tried to act normal, but a storm of frustration was raging inside me. Finally, after everyone was settled, I collapsed into a chair, completely drained. Then my mother called. “Do you have a heart?” she screamed into the phone. “Your cousin is dying, and you’re throwing a wedding?” I didn’t even have the strength to stand. I just listened to her tirade, my body numb. It took me a moment to understand. My cousin, Savannah, had a history of depression. She had tried to kill herself, slitting her wrists on the roof of her university dorm. I finally found my voice. “The groom has already gone to save her, hasn’t he? What more do you want from me? Should I kill myself to appease her? Will that cure her illness?” There was one more thing I didn’t say. I don’t have long to live. You’ll all be satisfied soon enough. But I didn’t want them to know. I didn’t want to see any of them in my final days. “What are you talking about? Even your husband couldn’t stand by and do nothing! The cousin you grew up with is dying, and you have no reaction at all? How can you be so cold-blooded?” My mother’s voice continued to grate on my ears. She didn’t know that just saying those few words had made my throat burn with a raw, searing pain. I held back a cough, hung up the phone, and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a ghost. When it came to Savannah, I always lost. She had a way of effortlessly taking everything that was mine. Savannah was my uncle’s daughter. After my aunt and uncle died in a car crash, she came to live with us. From that day on, I heard the same thing every day: “Savannah has already been through so much! Why do you have to compete with her? Can’t you just let her have it?” 2 Simon came home late that night, looking exhausted. I was tending to the gash on my knee. I hadn’t wanted to bother, but it looked serious, and even the smallest infection caused me immense pain now. It would trigger a cascade of inflammation throughout my body. I treated it numbly. I’ve always been afraid of pain, and sleep had become a nightly struggle. Ever since college, I’ve suffered from severe anxiety. When it flares up, I vomit and can’t sleep. I’d throw up until my mouth was filled with the bitter taste of acid. Simon glanced at me. He was heading for the shower but stopped when he saw the raw, bloody wound on my knee. “What happened? How did you manage that? Why weren’t you more careful?” I didn’t answer, just continued to clean the wound. I didn’t have the energy to talk to him anymore. He slowly sat down beside me and reached for the gauze. I looked up, my eyes cold and hard. “Karen, I’m sorry,” he pleaded, his gaze full of a practiced sincerity. “Today was an accident. Please don’t be angry with me.” If I hadn’t known the truth, I might have fallen for that look again. “Simon, let’s get a divorce. I’m so tired.” I looked back down at my knee. I finished wrapping the bandage, and he suddenly pulled me into a tight embrace. It felt desperate, the panicked gesture of a guilty man. He held me so tightly it hurt my wound. I hissed in pain, and he finally loosened his grip, sinking to his knees in front of me. “Karen, we’ll have so many more anniversaries. Please don’t say that word. It’s so hurtful.” “Simon,” I said, meeting his gaze directly. “This afternoon was the last shred of dignity I was willing to give you.” He froze, his expression crumbling into one of pure panic. “Karen, it’s not what you think. It was an emergency, I had to go. I didn’t want to tell you the truth because I was afraid you’d misunderstand. I—” For the first time in his life, Simon stammered. “What are you afraid of, Simon?” I asked, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Am I that terrifying? Or are you all just afraid I’ll bully Savannah, and now you’re afraid I’ll bully you too?” “Karen, you’re too emotional right now. I don’t want to fight with you.” He dodged the question and retreated into the bathroom. I didn’t say another word. I went into the study and closed the door. My hands were shaking. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep was a luxury I could rarely afford, usually managing only three or four hours a night. I should have woken up to the truth a long time ago. Savannah was the vibrant red rose, the permanent mark on Simon’s heart. When I met Simon, he and Savannah had already broken up. He never showed me a picture of his ex-girlfriend; I only knew that the relationship had left him heartbroken. I never knew his ex was Savannah. We had an unspoken agreement not to talk about our pasts. It wasn’t until after we were legally married, during a New Year’s visit to my parents, that Savannah was also there. That day, I saw a flicker of panic in Simon’s eyes for the first time. A woman’s intuition is a powerful thing. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. I wanted to ask him about it, but every time I brought it up, he would shut me down, saying it was in the past and dredging it up would only make us unhappy. And then, after the holidays, Savannah went abroad to study the violin, her lifelong passion. To support her, my parents sold their house and moved back to their hometown. I couldn’t describe the feeling then. It was the same as it had always been. Savannah got to take expensive music lessons while I couldn’t even afford tutoring. I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face when she found out Savannah was continuing her studies. She was beaming with pride, saying she never thought our family would produce a musician. Simon was with me then. He squeezed my hand and whispered, “In my eyes, my wife is the best.” He was good to me. He let me look at his phone whenever I wanted, gave me his bank cards to manage. He was the perfect husband, by all online standards. My appetite was poor, so he learned to cook, coming home every night after work to make me dinner. We would go for walks in the evening, holding hands. Life was simple, pure. I thought it would always be like that. Then Savannah came back. She hadn’t become a famous musician. She had developed severe depression. Her arms were covered in a latticework of scars from a brow razor. My mother held her and sobbed. She came to me, her face gaunt. “Karen, I regret it. Can you give Simon back to me?” The absurdity of it was staggering. She spoke as if Simon were a dress, a toy, a room, a snack—all the things she had taken from me in the past. She was used to getting what she wanted, simply by asking. I ignored her, treating her like a madwoman. She was the one who told me they had been together. I remember it was New Year’s Eve, fireworks exploding in the sky. She was unusually friendly, insisting we go watch them together. Simon was inside, playing cards with the elders. Savannah led me on a long, winding walk. 3 We ended up at a park bench, far from the house. She sat down and started reminiscing. “Karen, it’s hard to believe the little girl I knew is married now.” I didn’t know what to say. Then her tone shifted. “Karen, you’ve always hated me, haven’t you?” “Say something!” I was still at a loss for words. “You hate me so much that you married Simon, just because he was my boyfriend.” As she spoke, she burst into tears. The fireworks bloomed in the sky at that exact moment, illuminating the tears streaming down her face. I had never seen Savannah cry like that before. A chill ran through me. Simon was her ex-boyfriend. We had been married for less than a month. God as my witness, if I had known they were together, I would have stayed as far away as possible. But I didn’t know! Simon had burst into my life, telling me how much he liked me, helping me through the toughest of times. “I didn’t know you were together,” I finally managed to say. She glanced at me, then turned and walked away without another word. A few days later, she left to pursue her musical dreams. Before she left, she sent me a text: “You’ve let me have my way so many times. This time, I’ll let you have him.” I showed the text to Simon, furious. What did she mean, “let me have him”? If he couldn’t get over her, he should just get back together with her. I would admit I’d made a mistake. Simon threw his hands up in the air, claiming he was an innocent victim. He showed me his phone. “Karen, you can’t do this to me. I don’t even have her on WeChat. I didn’t know about your relationship.” “And if you had known?” “I would have gotten together with you sooner, and I would have run in the opposite direction every time I saw her. I would have closed my eyes and pretended she didn’t exist.” He squeezed his eyes shut as he said it. He made me laugh, and he immediately pulled me into a tight hug. For the next few years, Savannah really did disappear from our lives. I had almost forgotten about the whole thing. Until she came back, her studies finished, her body and spirit broken. She was like a wilting rose, even more pitiful and heart-wrenching. It was winter when she returned, and she was always cold. My mother was so worried she developed gray hairs. I even gave her the numbers of a few doctors I knew. Then I saw the way Simon looked at her. I couldn’t fool myself. You can’t hide the look of pity in your eyes. A steel needle seemed to pierce my heart, making it hard to breathe. I confronted him. For the first time, he got angry. “Enough! Karen, she’s already in this state. What more do you want?” Tears streamed down my face. He quickly tried to comfort me. “I’m sorry, Karen. I didn’t mean to snap at you. We’ve been together for so long. Don’t you trust me?” I tried to push the incident out of my mind. The years of love and companionship we had shared became a comforting dream I clung to. Later, he went on a business trip to Tibet. He came back right on New Year’s Day, and we went to my parents’ house with gifts. Without my knowledge, he pulled out a bag of saffron and handed it to Savannah. “The locals say this helps with the cold.” Then, under her surprised and grateful gaze, he took out a protective amulet. “They also say this can keep you safe.” I was silent, in a daze. It was like being a child again, watching my parents come home with piles of gifts for Savannah while I could only watch, a pathetic dog begging for scraps. On the way home, Simon tried to take my hand. I pulled away, and that’s when I noticed a large gemstone ring on my ring finger. I was stunned. He pinched my cheek. “Are you a little jealous? Your mother asked me to buy the saffron. The amulet was just something I picked up. They think your cousin might be cursed.” “But the ring,” he said, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur, “I spent a long time choosing this for you. As long as I’m with you, you’ll always be safe.” He was always so good with words. I stared at the pigeon-egg-sized ruby, mesmerized. He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Karen, let’s have a wedding. I’ve always felt bad about not giving you one.” Our eyes met. In that moment, I truly believed that everything before had been a misunderstanding. He loved me. Tears welled in my eyes. He panicked, wiping them away, asking me what was wrong, looking like a guilty child. In that moment, I wanted so badly to tell him. While he was away, my insomnia had gotten worse. I was throwing up constantly. At first, I thought I might be pregnant. I went to the hospital, overjoyed. But the doctor, seeing how sick I was, recommended a full check-up. When I got the diagnosis, I couldn’t believe it. How could this be happening? I was so young. I went to several other hospitals. The result was the same. I wanted to call him, to tell him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even face it myself. I didn’t know who to tell, how to say it. The doctor asked me why I hadn’t come in sooner. I told him I’d been like this since college, throwing up whenever I was anxious. He sighed. “Young people are under too much pressure these days.” In college, my mother, who was paying for Savannah’s expensive education, couldn’t afford to give me much. She paid my tuition and then bombarded me with messages and calls, telling me to work hard, to remember our family’s financial situation. Sometimes, at six or seven in the morning, I’d wake up to a text from her, asking if I’d found a part-time job, if I was earning any money, if I was going to get a scholarship. She said she was anxious, that the family could never save any money. What would they do when they got old? I asked her why she was still paying for Savannah’s expensive music lessons. She flew into a rage. “Why are you always so petty? Why can’t you just let it go? Savannah finally has a dream. Shouldn’t I support her?” “What about me?” “What more do you want? I’m already putting you through college! Are you trying to kill me?” She was determined to give Savannah the life she wanted, at the expense of my own survival. But she never saw it as a problem. She would just say, “I gave birth to you, I raised you. What more do you want?” I worried constantly about living expenses, about how to earn money, how to make my resume look better, how to find a better-paying job. That’s when I met Simon. He comforted me, understood me. Later, when he started his own business, I was by his side, traveling all over the country. To save money, we would buy standing-room-only tickets for twenty-hour train rides. He would buy two small stools, and we would huddle together, him shielding me from the crowds. He would whisper in my ear, “I will give you a good life.” But now, I had no life left. 4 Simon didn’t know that on the way home from the “wedding,” we passed by a jewelry store, and the name sounded familiar. On a whim, I went inside and asked the salesperson about the ruby ring on my finger. She was a young girl, and she blushed as she told me, “Oh, this ring? Just last Sunday night, right before we closed, a gentleman who had just gotten off a plane rushed in to buy it for his wife.” “He must love her very much, to be in such a hurry.” “Or maybe he did something wrong?” I whispered, to no one in particular. The girl stared at me, embarrassed. I turned and left. So that’s why he had suddenly bought me a ring. He had bought gifts for everyone on his trip, but had forgotten about me. To assuage his guilt, he had bought me an expensive ring. My gratitude now seemed so ridiculous. All those nights, I had been so scared, wanting to tell him about my illness, wanting to grasp at some non-existent warmth. It was all just my own wishful thinking. I lay in bed, numbly crying. The door suddenly opened. Simon pinned me down, kissing away my tears. “Karen, what do I have to do to make you stop overthinking things?” A wave of nausea rose in my throat. With a strength I didn’t know I possessed, I pushed him off me and ran to the bathroom, retching violently. He looked humiliated. “Karen Grant! What are you doing? I can’t even touch you anymore? How could you do this to me?” I ignored him, slumping to the floor. When I finally found the strength to stand, I splashed cold water on my face. “Let’s get a divorce. I’m serious.” He threw a towel at me and turned away. “In your dreams!” I watched his retreating back. You will, I thought. 5 I went to the hospital for a painkiller shot. I couldn’t even swallow pills anymore. Then I went directly to Savannah’s hospital room. I just sat there. She became incredibly agitated, yanking the IV needle from her arm. Blood spurted everywhere. “Karen Grant, what do you want? Can’t you just leave me alone?” I didn’t say anything, just quietly peeled an orange. When I was done, I realized I couldn’t eat it. I was on a liquid diet now. There were so many things I wanted to taste, but I couldn’t even do that. I held out the orange to her. “Want an orange? It should be sweet.” I wanted so badly to taste it, even if it was sour. But Savannah only became more agitated. She slapped the orange out of my hand and burst into tears. My mother rushed in, carrying a container of food for Savannah. The dishes looked familiar, but I didn’t have time to think about it. She slapped me across the face. “What did Savannah ever do to you? Why can’t you just leave her alone?” The slap made my nose bleed. I stared at the blood on the floor, then turned and left the room. My mother followed me out, wanting to say something. Finally, she grabbed my arm. “Karen, what’s wrong with you? Do you have a fever? You’ve lost so much weight recently.” “What’s it to you?” “I’m your mother!” she shrieked. “Really? I don’t believe you.” I smiled at her, and then the tears came. She cried even louder than I did. “I’m your mother! What do you want me to do? Can’t you try to understand me?” “I named you Karen, which means understanding. You were such a considerate child. How did you become like this?” I couldn’t listen anymore. Maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten, but my head was spinning. I ran away. But as long as Simon refused to sign the divorce papers, I would keep coming back. We would all suffer together. 6 Simon rushed home. I was staring at a bowl of mushy porridge, trying to swallow a few spoonfuls, but I threw it all up. I managed to choke down some sugar water. “Karen, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and tight, trying to control his anger. “Can you make me a bowl of noodles?” Simon was an excellent cook, and his noodles were especially delicious. But he hadn’t cooked in a long time. I couldn’t remember if it was because of work or something else. I had been on a liquid diet for so long, sucking my meals through a straw. I suddenly craved noodles, the kind Simon made. I had been to so many restaurants, but I could never find anything like them. I knew I couldn’t swallow them, but just smelling them would be enough. “She’s already in such a bad state. Please, just leave her alone,” he begged. His words were like a knife, twisting in my heart. I remembered a time when we were madly in love, and I had told him he was the person I was closest to in the world. I had meant it then. But the intimacy had been so fleeting. “Then divorce me. If you divorce me, I’ll leave her alone,” I said stubbornly. “You’re being irrational!” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Simon had once promised that he would never make me regret marrying him. But I did. I didn’t understand why I wanted a divorce so badly. I only had a few days left. But when I thought about those days, the pain was unbearable. Do people change? How could it happen so suddenly? How could he do this to me? Why did I offer up my heart to be trampled on? They all liked to trample on me. All I wanted now was to get away, but even that wasn’t allowed. I went to see Savannah every day. Anyone who didn’t know would have thought we were the closest of sisters. And then I finally understood who had been cooking her meals. Savannah saw me looking at her food and said, mockingly, “Want some? Simon made it. It’s the only thing I can eat right now.” For the first time, I almost broke down in front of her. I hadn’t even left the hospital when Simon called, his voice full of frustration. “Karen, can you just stop? Savannah is sick.” “Then divorce me! If you divorce me, I’ll stop,” I repeated. I stood at a crosswalk, wanting to step out into traffic. But then I thought, it wouldn’t be fair to the driver. Everyone has their own struggles. I couldn’t add to someone else’s by dying. I stepped back, watching the endless stream of people and cars. All I could think about was Simon, cooking for Savannah. The irony was suffocating. He always looked so tired, and I, trying to be considerate, had been learning to cook his favorite dishes, waiting for him to come home, even though I couldn’t eat a thing myself. I was trying to be considerate of his hard work, but he was spending his energy cooking nutritious meals for Savannah. Simon, how could you? If I had the time, I would have taken him to court, fought him, torn him apart. But I only had a few days left. Maybe God heard my prayers, or maybe Savannah just couldn’t take it anymore. That day, I went to see her as usual. We were arguing on the stairs. I envied her, that she could yell and still have enough breath and energy. My mother had called Simon. Savannah was crying, her face streaked with tears. “I don’t want to see you! Just die!” I was silent. She grabbed my arm, shaking me violently. “What do you want?” I looked at Simon. The message was clear. Savannah was hysterical. She was pulling at me, lost her footing, and almost fell. And then I saw Simon rush over, grabbing her to steady her. I tumbled down the stairs. There were some glass panels at the landing. I put my arms up to protect myself. CRASH! The glass shattered. My arm, in its white sweater, was embedded with shards of glass. My face was cut too. I must have looked a mess, so ugly. It had been so long since I had looked beautiful. I couldn’t even stand to look in the mirror anymore. I was so ugly. Simon rushed down, his voice panicked. “What happened? How did it get this bad?” Blood stained my sweater red. He tried to pick me up, but I pushed against his chest, fighting back tears. “Divorce me. Please? If you divorce me, I won’t come back.” “I promise I won’t bother you.” “Please, just divorce me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394434”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was the woman Christopher Pierce chose for himself. But after all his friends married women from their own world, from families of equal standing, I could feel it. A shadow of regret had begun to creep into his eyes. His parents never approved of me. I couldn’t keep up with their conversations about art auctions and European politics. I didn’t have the right pedigree. One by one, these became his reasons to resent me. The day he praised another woman in front of me for the third time that week, I finally untied the apron that had become a second skin. I put on my makeup again. I slipped into my favorite dress. This marriage—I was done fighting for it. 1 I was dropping off lunch at Christopher’s office when I saw his friends were already inside with him. The door was slightly ajar. I hesitated. A voice drifted out from within. “Christopher, you seem on edge lately. Trouble with the wife?” A cigarette was wedged between his fingers as he sat hunched over a stack of documents. He paused for a moment at the question. Then he shook his head. “No. It’s just… I’m irritated.” He paused again. “I can’t explain it. She hasn’t done anything wrong, but I find myself getting inexplicably annoyed by her.” The lunchbox in my hand suddenly felt impossibly heavy, its weight pulling my arm down. The real reason, the one he couldn’t bring himself to say… I think I already knew. When a life together is no longer sustained by love alone, every other difference becomes a chasm. To put it plainly, he was tired of me. I had just turned to leave when his childhood friend—and newly appointed personal assistant—Victoria Vance, blocked my path. I didn’t miss the playful, mocking glint in her eyes. With a light push, the door swung open. “Christopher, darling, your wife is here with your lunch.” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “I’m so jealous. You get to enjoy her amazing cooking every single day.” He rose from his chair. I am certain of this: his eyes never once met mine. He simply walked past me, took the container from my hands, and placed it on his desk. “You little brat,” he said, his voice softening as he turned to Victoria. “I’ve given you my lunch almost every day this week. Still not satisfied?” Victoria gave a delicate shrug, a playful pout on her lips. “Hmph. You were the one who said Becca’s only good at cooking and that I should order whatever I wanted. Now you’re blaming me!” She shot me a triumphant glance before sinking into the plush leather of Christopher’s executive chair. She opened the container and began to eat, slow and deliberate. My fingernails dug into my palms. The sting was sharp, but Christopher’s hand gently pried my fingers open as he came to stand before me. His eyes, when they finally looked at me, were still filled with that deep, practiced affection. Not a trace of the annoyance he’d just confessed to. “Becca, Victoria’s been having some stomach issues lately. I’m sure you can understand.” I pulled my hand away without a word. He caught it again, his grip firm this time, refusing to let me go. He stroked the back of my hand, a gesture that felt more like a restraint than a comfort. Victoria, having finished her meal, turned her head. “Let’s all go for drinks tonight! It’s been ages since we all got together.” A chorus of agreement filled the room. Christopher nodded. “Sounds good.” He stood and handed the now-empty lunchbox back to me. “You head home. Don’t wait up for me tonight.” I should have been angry. But I felt hollowed out, the capacity for anger gone. I turned and walked out. Behind me, Victoria’s voice, artificially high and cloying, chased me down the hall. “Christopher, why not ask Becca to come along? It would be fun!” His reply was flat, devoid of emotion. “She doesn’t get any of it. She can’t contribute. It’s awkward for her, and it’s awkward for us.” My feet froze to the floor. I stood there for a long time before I found the strength to walk away. 2 That night, I didn’t wait for Christopher. But deep in the night, my phone rang. It was Victoria. “Becca? Christopher’s had a bit too much to drink. He refused to go home, so I brought him back to my place.” A small laugh. “Now, don’t get the wrong idea,” she explained. “I just kicked him out of my bed. He’s sharing a room with my brother now.” The room was pitch-black. I hadn’t turned on any lights. The silence was absolute. On the other end of the line, she was waiting for my response. Was she trying to provoke me? I didn’t have the energy to play her game. “Let me talk to Christopher,” I said. Less than three seconds later, a man’s voice, thick with feigned drunkenness, came through the speaker. “Becca… they kept pushing drinks on me. My head’s killing me, can’t drive. I’m not coming home tonight.” There was an undercurrent of resistance in his voice. This house, our home, had me in it. Had that become a source of irritation for him, too? “Christopher, do you regret it?” He gave a noncommittal “Hmm?” and I wasn’t sure if he’d even heard me. Before I could say another word, the phone seemed to move away from his mouth. But he didn’t hang up. I heard Victoria’s soft, feminine laughter. “Christopher, being so dismissive of Miss Thorne… aren’t you afraid you’ll hurt her feelings? What if she starts to suspect there’s something going on between us? You’ll ruin my reputation.” The drunken slur was completely gone from his voice now. In its place, a hint of amusement. “You were my fiancée to begin with. She’s always been bothered by it. What’s one more night?” It was true. Before he married me, he and Victoria had been engaged. I only found out after we were married, from one of his friends. For me, Christopher had rejected the arranged marriage his family had planned for him since birth. Back then, he must have loved me. But three years can change so many things. Just as, back then, he had loved me so deeply. And just as, now, he didn’t want to come home. 3 Christopher didn’t come home until dinnertime the next day. Usually, when he knew he’d done something to upset me, he’d bring a small gift to smooth things over. A bouquet of flowers, or a pastry from that bakery I loved with the ridiculously long line. But today, his hands were empty. He mumbled a greeting and sat down across from me. After only a few bites, he slammed his chopsticks on the table. He directed his anger at me. “Why is this dish so salty? Becca, you’ve been married to me for three years. Don’t you know how to taste your own food?” I don’t know where his rage came from, but he was unleashing it all on me. But for the first time, I felt something shift between us. Our housekeeper, hearing the commotion, hurried out from the kitchen. She apologized timidly. “I’m so sorry, sir. Ma’am wasn’t feeling well today, so I prepared the meal. I’ll take these dishes away and remake them for you right away.” Christopher looked as if he’d swallowed something sharp. His expression turned ugly. After a long, tense silence, he waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t bother. This is fine.” Even after his outburst, even after he’d wrongly accused me, Christopher said nothing to me. No apology. No acknowledgment. It was as if it was my duty to absorb his anger. I put down my own chopsticks, letting them clatter against the bowl. “Christopher, do you hate me?” His head, which had been bowed, seemed to flinch. When he looked up, his face was a blank mask, scrubbed of all emotion. “Becca, why would you say that? I raised my voice, and if that made you uncomfortable, I apologize. But since you’re home all day, maybe you could handle small things like cooking yourself, instead of always troubling the staff.” I stared into his eyes, searching for something, anything. “I am your wife, Christopher. Not your maid. And I am certainly not Victoria Vance’s private chef. I will not be setting foot in the kitchen again.” As expected, the mention of her name lit a fire in his eyes. He shot to his feet. “This is about us. Why do you always have to bring her into it? You’re being irrational.” 4 That night, for the first time, Christopher and I slept in separate rooms. I sat on the vast, empty bed. I suddenly remembered something he had told me on our wedding day. He said that even if we fought, we would never sleep apart. Because a conflict that lasts overnight creates a crack in a relationship that can never be repaired. He wouldn’t allow it. I turned off the light. In the middle of the night, I felt a hand reach for me. A man’s warm breath ghosted across my neck, his voice laced with a placating tone. “Honey, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you. Can you forgive me?” I lay still, letting him hold me, my gaze fixed on the window. “Why did you come here?” Christopher snuggled closer, his words muffled. “Can’t let a fight last overnight. I haven’t forgotten.” A single tear hit the pillowcase. I had made up my mind. So why was I hesitating now, just because of those few words? Behind me, Christopher started to explain. “Becca, I was in a terrible mood when I left work. That silly girl Victoria really got under my skin. That’s why I forgot to buy you a gift.” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I tried to sound casual. “What did Victoria do?” Maybe it was my imagination, but his voice suddenly sounded more animated. “She printed an important document with a dozen typos. I said a few words to her, and she had the nerve to get upset with me. Started crying and throwing a fit. In the end, I was the one who had to calm her down. God, it’s exhausting.” He seemed to realize halfway through that he was saying too much. He added, lamely, “You know there’s nothing between Victoria and me, honey.” I turned over onto my back. “I know. Otherwise, you never would have married me.” The hand resting on my waist slowly pulled away. He whispered, as if to himself, his voice tinged with regret. “Yes. In the end, I married you.” 5 From that day on, the dynamic between us shifted into something fragile and strange. He started making excuses, finding reasons not to come home for dinner. And I, true to my word, never stepped into the kitchen for his sake again. One afternoon, while cleaning, I found a stack of dozens of brand-new, unopened aprons in my closet. They were piled on top of my own clothes, a thick, suffocating layer that had buried the last three years of my life. I thought back. What had turned me into a woman who only revolved around a kitchen? After we were married, Christopher said: “Becca, I’m a picky eater, but I love your cooking more than anything. You don’t need to work.” His mother said: “Our family can’t afford the embarrassment of you working. Just take good care of my son.” I knew being the daughter-in-law of a wealthy family would be difficult. So I tried my best to please them. I gave up my budding career as an illustrator, a passion I had loved, and dedicated myself to managing every detail of Christopher’s life. And in the end, all I got for it was a dismissive comment. “Becca? Oh, she’s only good at cooking.” So, from now on, I was done. I threw every single apron into the trash. Then I went to the mall and bought a new wardrobe. I put on a beautiful dress and did my makeup. I took dozens of selfies, all of them flattering. On my professional art account, which still had a small but loyal following, I posted a single message announcing my return. I was going back to what I loved. I no longer cared if Christopher came home at night. I no longer cared who he was with. And I no longer cared when he would finally get completely tired of me. None of it mattered anymore. 6 One evening, Christopher, with whom I hadn’t had a proper conversation in what felt like weeks, came home to pack a bag. He didn’t even tell me he was back. I only ran into him by chance when I went downstairs for a glass of water. He looked startled to see me. His lips moved for a moment, as if he were wrestling with what to say. Finally, he spoke, his tone cautious. “A few friends and I are going camping this weekend. Becca… do you want to come with us?” As he asked the question, his entire body was tense. Was it anticipation, or resistance? I couldn’t help but laugh. At the sound, the tension in his eyes grew even more pronounced. A mischievous impulse took hold of me. “Sure,” I said brightly. “It’s been years since I’ve been camping!” He just stood there, stunned. Christopher knew I didn’t fit in with his friends. The invitation had been a mere formality. He crouched down and began unpacking the clothes he had just folded. He didn’t look at me, but it was clear he was annoyed. “You know, I just remembered I have some urgent work to deal with at the office. I’m not going to go. You shouldn’t either.” “Oh.” I didn’t say another word, just turned and went back downstairs. I drank a full glass of water, feeling strangely light. A few minutes later, I heard a car start. To avoid me, Christopher had tiptoed down the stairs, carrying his suitcase. In the past, he might have been afraid I would embarrass him. But now, he was probably just afraid I’d interrupt his good time. I stared at the spot where his car had disappeared. Christopher, when are you finally going to ask for a divorce? I’m ready. 7 Victoria updated her social media story. It had zero likes or comments, which meant she’d made it visible only to me. I watched it carefully. It was a video from the campsite. Two-person tents. Everyone else was there with their wives. Only Christopher and Victoria were single. Someone in the video joked, “Christopher, you two should just share a tent. Victoria’s a scaredy-cat, she’ll be terrified on her own tonight.” Victoria’s brother shot a meaningful look at the two of them, who had been silent until now. “Christopher, if you’re sharing, keep your hands to yourself.” Christopher laughed. “Get lost. Am I that kind of guy?” The next second, he held open the flap of a tent, his gaze on Victoria heated and intense. “Alright, Your Highness, get in. I’ll keep you company tonight.” I saved the video. Then I liked it. It was clear from the footage. Christopher had crossed a line. It was no longer just an emotional affair. He had taken action. A man like that. Was there any point in continuing this entanglement? I spent the entire night wrestling with that question. By dawn, I had my answer. Without hesitation, I packed my bags. I moved into the small apartment I had bought with my own hard work before the wedding. It was two full days and nights later that Christopher finally called me. His first words were, “Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.” I gave him the address and sat on my sofa. Waiting. 8 When I opened the door, his eyes were clouded with exhaustion. He sighed, a look of weary resignation on his face. “Becca, I’m sorry. I was wrong to hide the trip from you. If you still want to go, I can take time off work right away and we can go together.” I let him in and poured him a glass of water. Then I spoke. “Christopher, I don’t want to anymore.” He leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. He clearly wasn’t taking my “tantrum” seriously. As he was talking, he even pulled out his phone and sent Victoria a quick text, telling her to get some rest. Then, he glanced at me casually. “Alright, then. Let’s go home.” He took a few steps toward the door and realized I hadn’t moved. He looked back, confused. “I said, I don’t want to be with you anymore.” The look of impatience on Christopher’s face flickered into one of brief, sharp panic. I showed him the video on my phone. After he watched it, he started to stammer, trying desperately to explain. I cut him off. “We’re not right for each other anymore. I know you’ve realized it, too. That’s why you regret it. You regret not choosing the marriage with Victoria, and now you’re trying to correct that mistake.” A look of shame, of being seen too clearly, crossed his face. Under my calm, steady gaze, he finally nodded. “Yes. I have thought about what might have been if we hadn’t gotten married. But Becca, we are married, and I will be responsible for this marriage. What you saw in the video is real, but nothing happened between us. I can promise you that, and I can promise that I will have no further relationship with her.” Fearing what I might say next, Christopher stumbled to his feet. He fled like a coward. I couldn’t understand it. He was clearly tired of me and already planning a divorce. So why, the moment I called him out on it, did he suddenly start playing the part of the devoted husband? Over the next few days, I kept asking Christopher when we could file for divorce. But he remained resolute, refusing. I didn’t know what he was clinging to. We lived separately, at a stalemate. Until his grandfather’s birthday banquet. Christopher called me in advance. “Becca, I hope you’ll come with me tomorrow. If not for me, then for Grandfather, who has always treated you like his own granddaughter.” I couldn’t refuse. In the entire Pierce family, his grandfather was the only one who had never looked down on me because of my background. This meeting would be a farewell.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394432”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day I flew back home, my husband, who was supposed to pick me up, sent someone else, claiming a last-minute emergency. That “someone else” blocked my path at the arrivals gate, her chin tilted in arrogant challenge. “So you’re Adrian’s so-called ‘best friend.’” I was frantic. “Crestwood Estates in Kingsbridge. I need to get there now.” The butler had called that morning. My grandfather had collapsed. I’d caught the first flight out. But she and her friends didn’t move. They formed a wall, their eyes burning with a raw, ugly hostility. “You home-wrecking, backstabbing bitch. I’m going to kill you today.” A sharp slap cracked across my face, stunning me. Then the fists and feet started flying. Thankfully, I knew enough self-defense to react, twisting and using their momentum to throw a few of them to the ground. “Are you insane? Is this how my husband told you to welcome me home?” 1 Thrown to the polished airport floor, Scarlett scrambled back up, her face contorted with rage. “You’re just the shameless friend who doesn’t know her place! How dare you call him your husband?” she spat. “Today, I’m going to teach you a lesson about boundaries with married men!” She was prepared. Her friends produced steel batons from their bags, advancing on me. I grabbed Scarlett’s arm, twisting it behind her back, my patience wearing thin. “We can’t be talking about the same person,” I ground out. “I despise infidelity. I would never, ever wreck someone’s home.” A crowd was gathering, their phones already out. The exit was becoming impassable. Panicked that I wouldn’t make it home in time, I tried to reason with her. “Ma’am, whatever your issue is, you can take it up with my lawyer. Right now, I have a family emergency. I don’t have time for this drama.” I tried to push through the gawking onlookers, but she held up a photo. It was a professional shot of me and Adrian, smiling. My first instinct was to confirm it. “Yes, that’s my husband and me.” That was the spark that lit the fuse. Scarlett exploded. “Adrian has always told me you were just his childhood friend, practically his sister! And you have the nerve to call him your husband in public?” she shrieked. “I knew it! You’ve been using the ‘best friend’ excuse to sleep with my husband behind my back, you pathetic slut!” The crowd, which had started to disperse, surged back in, their curious glances turning to judgmental stares. I felt like a criminal on display. Scarlett, reveling in her victory, swung the baton. Pinned by the crowd, I couldn’t dodge in time. The blow landed hard on my arm. A flash of white-hot pain was followed by a spreading numbness. “My grandfather is dying,” I warned, my voice low and dangerous. “I am not playing games with you. Get out of my way, or you’ll be hearing from my legal team.” I was his only grandchild. He had always doted on me, even entrusting me with the company he built from the ground up. I couldn’t be late. I just couldn’t. Scarlett’s face was a mask of righteous fury. “Let me make things crystal clear for you,” she yelled for everyone to hear. “My name is Scarlett Pierce, and I am the legally wedded wife of the man you call your husband!” “You shameless home-wrecker! Using your ‘friend’ status to fly around the world with him, taking wedding photos, meeting his family! I swear, if I don’t beat you to a pulp today, I’ll take your last name!” As she screamed, the batons rained down on my back and shoulders. I sucked in a sharp breath against the pain. I was a woman. I could understand the rage of being betrayed. But that didn’t give her the right to do this. I caught the next baton in my hand, my fingers wrapping tightly around the cold steel. I met her gaze, my eyes narrowed. “That’s enough. I got married five years ago. My marriage certificate is in my purse. My husband would never cheat on me. You’ve made a mistake.” My voice was shaking, but firm. “If you touch me again, I’m calling the police.” Scarlett just rolled her eyes, her expression curdling with contempt. She rummaged in her designer bag and triumphantly produced her own marriage certificate, a crisp, official document she waved for the crowd to see. “Adrian and I have been married for three years. He took me to the courthouse himself,” she declared. “For three years, he’s been flying overseas for ‘business.’ I saw your texts on his phone. He said you were just friends. Then I found the photos on his social media. There’s no such thing as a platonic friendship between a man and a woman. You are the other woman!” Her entourage chimed in. “She’s just been clinging to Mr. Foster, waiting for him to make it big. Now that he’s successful, she’s back to kick you out and take her place. What a schemer!” “Exactly! In the old days, they’d drown women like you for this!” My mind went blank. I snatched the red-bound certificate from her hand. The man in the photo was undeniably Adrian Foster. Before I could process it, my phone buzzed. A text from the butler. [Miss Vance, the Director is fading fast. He’s asking for you. He just wants to see you one last time.] 2 There was no more time to think. “Miss Pierce,” I said, my voice strained, “my marriage certificate is dated two years before yours. I suggest you look into whether someone impersonated my husband to scam you. My family member is dying. I’m leaving now, but my lawyer will be in touch.” I pushed my way forward, but she grabbed my wrist, her grip like a vise. “Trying to run away?” she sneered. “Afraid your little charade is over?” My patience snapped. The desperation and fear in my chest ignited into pure rage. I told her it was an emergency. Why wouldn’t she listen? Just then, a timid voice spoke up from behind me. “I… I’m an airport official. I can verify the certificate numbers for you, check which one is authentic.” As desperate as I was, refusing now would make me look guilty. I locked eyes with Scarlett. “After this, you let me go. Deal?” My hands trembled as I texted the butler, asking for an update, praying I wasn’t too late. He replied with a video. My grandfather, lying in bed, his eyes wide and unfocused, was gasping my name, a thread of life he was clinging to just for me. My vision blurred with tears. I turned to the official, my voice a choked whisper. “Are you done yet? Please, I’m in a hurry.” Even in my panic, I tried to be decent. “Scarlett, something is very wrong here. You should contact my assistant. This might be a new kind of identity fraud.” Whoever was playing this sick game with my husband’s name, I would make them pay. Adrian was the CEO of Stellar Corp, the company my grandfather had poured his life into. This had to be a setup, a corporate sabotage plot to ruin our reputation. The official examined both documents, her brow furrowed. Then her expression shifted as she looked at me. It was a look of pure disgust. She handed Scarlett’s certificate back with a polite nod. “Yours is valid, ma’am. The number is in the system.” Then she turned to me, her face a mask of scorn, and threw my certificate on the ground. “You were so confident, I almost believed you. But this? Your number doesn’t exist. It’s a fake.” She sneered. “Trying to scam a man like Mr. Foster now that he’s famous? I guess money really does attract all kinds of trash.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. “What? How is that possible?” I cried out. “Adrian and I have known each other for ten years! We’ve been married for five! How can our certificate be fake?” I bent to pick it up, to demand she check again. Scarlett’s stiletto heel slammed down on my hand, pinning it to the floor. Pain, sharp and blinding, shot up my arm. “You see?” she said, her voice dripping with triumph. “Mine is the real one. You filthy bitch, sleeping with my husband and trying to steal my identity. I’ll teach you some manners.” Her friends closed in again, their batons raised. A blow to my back sent me crumpling to the ground, the air knocked from my lungs. “Stop!” I screamed. “You have no right! This isn’t settled! I am a director on the board of Stellar Corp, and I will sue every single person who laid a hand on me today! You will all be held legally accountable!” My threat was met with a moment of silence, followed by a wave of derisive laughter. “First she’s the wife, now she’s a director? Does this woman ever stop lying?” “Stellar Corp is the biggest company in Kingsbridge! You think just any piece of trash can be on their board?” Scarlett raised an eyebrow, emboldening them. “Stellar Corp is my husband’s company, and I’ve never heard of a director named Audrey Vance. Don’t worry,” she announced to the crowd. “As the boss’s wife, I’m giving you all permission. Whoever teaches this home-wrecker the best lesson gets a job at Stellar.” The crowd went wild. “Stellar only hires Ivy League grads and overseas talent! Their starting salaries are in the millions!” “She’s just a mistress anyway. Who cares if she gets roughed up? I hate cheaters.” A hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. Nails dug into my skin. I screamed, bracing for the mob to trample me. Suddenly, a chorus of sharp whistles cut through the noise. A team of airport security guards pushed through the crowd, creating a barrier around me. “What is the meaning of this assembly? We have a VIP from Stellar Corp arriving today! Disperse immediately!” 3 They parted the sea of people, and two guards helped me to my feet. Scarlett stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. “You’re telling me to leave? Do you have any idea who I am?” The security captain stepped forward respectfully. “Ma’am, we’ve received instructions to ensure clear passage for a VIP from Stellar Corp. We need to prevent any blockages.” Scarlett scoffed, poking him in the chest with her baton. “Stellar Corp? You mean me, right? I’m Adrian Foster’s wife.” She flipped open the marriage certificate and shoved it in his face. “Open your eyes. I’m the person you’re supposed to be protecting. This airline is a subsidiary of our company, isn’t it? A dog should at least recognize its master. Be careful, or I’ll have you fired.” The captain flinched back but said nothing, his men still forming a protective circle around me. Scarlett sneered and snapped her fingers. “Fine. If you want to play hero, you can take a few hits for her.” While they were distracted, I frantically tried to call Adrian. If Scarlett’s certificate was real, it meant my entire life was a lie. The line was busy. Over and over again. Scarlett watched me, a cruel smirk on her face. “What’s the matter? Trying to call for backup? Trying to call Adrian?” She kicked my shin lightly, her eyes glittering with malice. “My husband told me he would answer my call, anytime, anywhere. Let me show you just how little you mean to him.” She pulled out her phone and dialed. It rang twice before he picked up. “Hey, babe. What’s up?” That familiar voice. My husband’s voice. And just like that, I understood. All those years I was overseas, they were together. A bitter coldness spread through my chest. I had defied my family, turned down a strategic marriage alliance, all for him. I had personally placed him in the CEO’s chair. And this is how he repaid me. “Adrian Foster,” I snarled into the phone she held out. “You have some nerve. I suggest you get your psycho girlfriend out of here right now, or you’ll regret it.” Maybe it was the venom in my voice, but he didn’t recognize me. There was a pause, then his tone turned harsh and arrogant. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m the CEO of Stellar Corp. I can make sure you never work in this city again. You’re threatening me?” Scarlett pouted into the phone. “See? And this bitch is trying to frame me as the other woman! Everyone knows you only have me!” “Don’t worry, babe,” he cooed. “I’m on my way. I’ll give you some backup.” I clenched my fists, a humorless smile on my lips. No time to pick me up from the airport, but one call from her and he comes running. She hung up, then tapped the baton against my cheek. “I thought you were such an important ‘friend,’” she taunted. “He didn’t even recognize your voice. Hahahaha.” She and her goons moved closer, their expressions hardening. “Alright, everyone. Teach this cheating whore a lesson she’ll never forget.” They all held batons. The security team was outnumbered and surrounded. The crowd surged forward again, and one of Scarlett’s friends even started a live stream, her phone pointed at me. #StellarCorpBossWifeBeatsDownHomewrecker #ExposingTheMistress I made one last desperate attempt, my eyes locked on hers. “I’m warning you, stop now. When Adrian sees what you’ve done to me, he won’t let you get away with it. He owes his entire career to me!” Scarlett just laughed. “Oh, still talking tough when you’re about to die? Let’s see if that mouth of yours still works after we’re done with you.” The baton came down, a precise, brutal strike to the back of my knee. My leg buckled. I collapsed, my face pale, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394430”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel