Author: Momo Chan

A new reality show about a billionaire family is the latest viral hit. During a live broadcast, someone brought me up. My mother, her arm wrapped around the fake heiress, Chloe, accused me of being a pathological liar. My brother, Sonny, his voice laced with ice, added, “She’s nothing but trash.” My childhood friend, Peter, frowned. “A vicious, ungrateful viper,” was his assessment. Then Chloe, in her sugary-sweet voice, intervened. “Mom, Sonny, Peter, please don’t say that about my sister. Why don’t we invite her on the show? I’m sure she’s seen the error of her ways by now.” They fell silent. The live-stream comments, however, exploded with excitement, demanding they go find the real heiress immediately. Everyone wanted to see what kind of monster Jodie Ashford was to be so universally despised. Finally, Sonny lifted his gaze, his expression unreadable. “Fine. Do whatever you want.” And so, the entire production, a massive entourage, set off to find me. I floated in the air, a silent ghost tagging along. I was curious. Where on earth could they possibly find me? 1 A crowd of people swarmed in front of a dilapidated old building. The corners of the lot were overflowing with garbage, a buzzing cloud of flies and roaches feasting on the rot. The crew from the show couldn’t help but pinch their noses against the stench. I did a slow loop in the air, grateful I couldn’t smell a thing. Just then, my mother, Sonny, and the others stepped out of their luxury cars. Dressed in limited-edition couture, they were a stark, shimmering contrast to the squalor around them. The live-stream chat filled with confusion: 【Wait, the real Ashford heiress lives in a dump like this?】 【That dress Chloe’s wearing could probably buy this whole building.】 Someone chimed in with an explanation: 【You guys didn’t see the news? Three years ago, Jodie Ashford killed her own father and ran away from home.】 【What? She’s that horrible? The Ashfords should never have taken her back in the first place.】 【Yeah, I heard about her. A real piece of work. Nothing like Chloe, who has Sonny Ashford and the medical prodigy Peter protecting her.】 The discussion was heating up. My mother pulled out a silk handkerchief, holding it to Chloe’s nose to block the smell. Then she turned to Sonny. “Go get Jodie to open the door.” Sonny took a single step up the crumbling concrete stairs, then froze. He’d realized he had no idea which apartment was mine. I’d actually told him before. But at the time, he was too busy consoling a tearful Chloe to pay any attention. But then I heard a low voice from behind him. It was Peter. “201.” I wasn’t surprised. Of everyone here, Peter knew me best. Sonny shot Peter a surprised look before continuing up to the second floor. There was no doorbell. The great Sonny Ashford, CEO of Ashford Corp, was reduced to pounding on a rusty metal door. A long, long time passed. No one answered. I tilted my head, watching Sonny. His face was hardening, a cold mask settling over his features. “Silly brother,” I whispered in his ear, though he couldn’t hear me. “Obviously, no one’s home.” He just kept knocking, a stubborn, repetitive rhythm. I found it fascinating. Normally, his patience with me wore thin in seconds. He would have stormed off by now, spitting, “Such a lack of manners,” over his shoulder. The viewers in the live stream were getting restless. 【Is she not home? Why don’t they just call her?】 【Who knows if they even have her number? Look at Sonny, he didn’t even know the apartment number.】 【I heard Peter grew up with Jodie in a group home. Now he’s a medical genius with a spotless reputation. If even he talks about her like that, she must be truly terrible.】 【I was so ready for the drama of Jodie joining the show. The real vs. the fake heiress, it would’ve been epic.】 Then, another comment: 【This place looks sketchy as hell. Isn’t anyone worried something might have happened to her?】 This was a live broadcast, so the people on set could see the comments scrolling by. “Maybe… maybe my sister saw the show and left ahead of time,” Chloe said, her head bowed as if in deep sorrow. “She doesn’t want to see us. When she left, she blocked all of our numbers.” “It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me…” “This has nothing to do with you! She’s the ungrateful wretch!” Sonny had stopped knocking. His voice was cold, sharp with a hatred that seemed to cut through the air. “She’d better hope she can hide for the rest of her life.” I had heard those words, or ones just like them, too many times while I was alive. I didn’t want to hear them again. I drifted away from them, watching as they conferred with the production crew, finally giving up on their plan to invite me. Only when they began preparing for the next segment did I float back. 2 Just as everyone was about to get back into their cars, a woman in flashy, cheap clothes emerged from the building, yawning. She was halfway down the stairs when she saw Sonny’s face. She stopped, turned back, and threw him a sultry look. “Hey handsome, looking for me? It’s only two hundred.” I blinked, drifting in front of my brother to get a better look. Well. He was undeniably handsome. As I recalled, women had always flocked to him like moths to a flame. When had Sonny Ashford ever been subjected to such a humiliating offer? His face instantly darkened. “Get lost.” Several of his bodyguards moved forward, their expressions menacing. The woman flinched, about to run. “Wait,” Chloe called out, stopping her with a gentle smile. “Excuse me, have you seen the woman who lives here?” she asked, gesturing to the door of my old apartment. The woman glanced at the door. “Oh, her?” she said with a dismissive smirk. “She’s got good business. Always a few men with her at a time.” After she spoke, a dead silence fell over the scene. Chloe was the first to react, covering her mouth with her hand, the very picture of shocked innocence. “Oh my god. My sister… how could she do something like that?” My mother clutched at her chest, her face pale with rage. “What a disgraceful, filthy creature!” she seethed. Chloe immediately rushed to her side, helping her back toward the car and rubbing her back to calm her down. “That bastard!” Sonny finally processed the words, his initial shock turning into incandescent rage. “As an Ashford, how dare she?!” The force of his anger made me shrink back. I didn’t understand why he was so furious. Hadn’t he always told me I was born low-class, unworthy of the Ashford name? Why did it suddenly matter to him now what I did? The internet, of course, went into a frenzy. The comments flew by in a blur: 【What the hell, Jodie is a… a prostitute?】 【What a disgrace to the Ashford family. If only Chloe were their real daughter. She’s so pure and innocent.】 【Can we just move on? I don’t want to hear another thing about this person. It’s disgusting.】 But some offered a different perspective: 【Could this be a misunderstanding? Chloe isn’t always right. Peter grew up with Jodie, maybe he knows her better?】 At the mention of his name, everyone on set turned to look at Peter, waiting for his verdict. I floated over to him, waiting too. Peter simply lowered his gaze, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “I never thought she’d sink so low.” He sided with Chloe, condemning me. He affirmed that yes, with a character like mine, I was capable of such a thing. A wave of murmurs went through the crowd. Sonny’s hands clenched into fists, the veins on their backs standing out like cords. Chloe, having settled my mother in the car, hurried back to his side. I stared at Peter. This boy, three years younger than me, whom I had once treated like my own brother. I thought I would be used to it by now. But my heart still ached with a familiar, numbing pain. When we were kids, bullies used to pick on him. I always stood in their way. Once, my arm was broken protecting him. Another time, I nearly lost an eye. But none of that seemed to matter as much as the simple umbrella Chloe had handed him on a rainy day. From that day on, whatever Chloe said, whatever she did, he defended her. She said I stole the class funds, so he testified against me, getting me ostracized by my classmates and disciplined by the school. Chloe fell down a flight of stairs when I was nearby, so he pushed me down a flight of stairs in return. And now, this. He knew. He knew the truth. When we were clinging to each other for survival, we lived in this very building. That flimsy metal door did nothing to block out the sounds from next door. He would cover my ears with his small hands, his jaw clenched in hatred. “Jodie, don’t listen. Don’t be scared. When I make money, we’ll move away from here.” We did eventually move. He got a big, beautiful house. But the sister in his heart was no longer me. It was Chloe. “Mr. Ashford, I’ve found the young miss’s number.” 3 Sonny’s assistant’s voice snapped me back to the present. I was a little surprised. My brother had actually sent someone to find my number? That was so unlike him. The resources at his command were usually reserved for Chloe and Chloe alone. I floated closer to him. He was frowning, staring at the number scrawled on a slip of paper in his hand. His face was a mask of conflict. Was he hesitating? Struggling with what to say to his disgraceful sister? Impossible. I shook my head. I knew better than that. The only times Sonny had ever called me were to demand I apologize to Chloe, or to vent his own frustrations… “Jodie, you have three minutes to get to Father’s memorial tablet and kneel.” The seconds ticked by. Sonny just stared at the number, unmoving. I was getting antsy for him. The live stream was, too: 【What’s he thinking? Just call already! Confront her!】 【They said they haven’t spoken in three years. Maybe it feels awkward?】 【CALL HER! Get her on the show so we can see how awful she really is.】 【I bet she won’t have the guts to show up. She burned her bridges with the Ashfords.】 The show’s director, growing desperate, cautiously approached his biggest sponsor. “Mr. Ashford, if you’d please…” Sonny silenced him with a single glare. The director scurried away, but not without a flicker of triumph on his face. He had seen it. Sonny’s phone screen now read: Dialing… Everyone held their breath. Only I wasn’t nervous. I was bored, looking around. After all, there was no way that call could connect. I was a ghost. How could I possibly answer a phone? But in the next second, the call connected. A voice on the other end said, “Hello?” I jumped in shock. But I quickly composed myself. My brother, on the other hand, was stunned into fury. He practically choked on the words. “Who is this?” “Where is Jodie?” 4 “This is your daddy!” The person on the other end seemed to hesitate for a second before snapping back. Sonny, after a moment of shock, regained his composure. “You must be her friend, Maya. She always did love running with gutter trash like you.” “Put Jodie on the phone.” I looked up, surprised. I didn’t think he’d even remember Maya, my best friend from before I returned to the Ashfords. I thought he never paid any attention to my life at all. Maya’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Well, well. I thought the great Sonny Ashford was calling because he’d finally grown a conscience. Turns out you’re just as cold-blooded as ever. Is this how all you rich folk are?” Sonny didn’t rise to the bait. He calmly slipped on the jacket his assistant handed him. “Miss Maya,” he said with a faint, chilling smile, “I doubt you could find a more cold-blooded person on this earth than your dear friend, Jodie.” “Right, right. The kindest person in the world is your precious, two-faced fake sister, Chloe. There, are you satisfied, Mr. Ashford?” Maya was clearly furious now, her words tumbling out in a rush. “You build her up, fund this trashy show, and you want to drag Jodie through the mud as a prop? Don’t you think you’ve hurt her enough? It’s disgusting!” She paused, as if catching her breath, then added, “If you ask me, Jodie wasn’t cold-blooded enough. She should have just watched you get kidnapped all those years ago!” Sonny’s pupils contracted. His knuckles, wrapped around the phone, turned white. I felt a jolt of memory, a dizzying pull back to the year I was taken. My brother, sneaking me out of the house to play without our parents’ permission. A tall man grabbing him, trying to drag him into a van. I had clawed and bit at the man until he yelped in pain and let go. I kept screaming, crying, finally drawing the attention of passersby. Realizing he’d been spotted and that grabbing Sonny again would be too difficult, the man had simply shoved me into the van and sped off. I was four years old. My brother was ten. Sonny’s face became a thundercloud. “Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?” he snarled. “I’ll say it one more time. Get Jodie. On. The. Phone. Now.” “Oh, that’s right! You’re all so high and mighty! Us poor folk aren’t worthy of speaking to you!” Maya was clearly terrified of Sonny, but she gritted her teeth and pushed on. “You want to talk to Jodie? Maybe in your next life!” Maya, you fool! Why are you provoking him? I was frantic, wanting desperately to stop her, but it was useless. I could see Sonny’s face had become so dark it looked like it was carved from obsidian. My heart twisted for Maya, terrified of what he might do to her in retaliation. I knew what that was like. It wasn’t pleasant. And Maya was just an ordinary person; she stood no chance against my brother. Strangely, Sonny took a deep breath and, for once, didn’t retaliate. Just then, Peter suddenly spoke up. “Let me try.” 5 Sonny tossed the phone to Peter, his face a mask of stone, and walked away. Peter caught it, his tone familiar and easy. “Maya, it’s been a while. Can you put Jodie on?” Maya, Peter, and I had all grown up in the same group home. Once upon a time, we were an inseparable trio. There was a long silence on Maya’s end before she finally spoke, her voice hollow. “Well, if it isn’t the rising star of the medical world. What’s it been, a few years? Have you already forgotten how to call the person who worked her fingers to the bone to put you through school ‘sister’?” Peter’s lips curved into an unconcerned smile. “Maya. Sister. Is that better?” “Was I asking you to call me that?” Maya exploded. “Peter, has your conscience been completely eaten by dogs?” The smile vanished from Peter’s face. His expression cooled. “Maya, my patience is limited.” “Where is Jodie?” “You want to see her?” Maya’s tone was strange, almost eerie. Peter’s lips thinned, but he said nothing. Maya let out a short, sharp laugh that grew louder and more unhinged. “You want to see her now? Isn’t it a little late for that? Where were all of you before?!” Still, Peter didn’t answer. Maya’s laughter died down. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and steady. “Jodie? Oh, she’s probably… been reincarnated into a better family by now.” The call was on speaker, the volume turned up for the show. The entire set, including the crew and the thousands watching the live stream, fell into a profound silence. My heart leaped into my throat. So, it’s finally out. Before I died, Maya was the only one by my side. She handled everything afterward. She had already borne so much for me. It was probably for the best that she let it all out. I just didn’t know how my mother and brother would react. I lowered my head, unable to look at any of them. After what felt like an eternity, a low chuckle broke the silence. 6 I turned. It was my brother. He was laughing. “You went through all that trouble just to say that?” Sonny said, slipping his hands into his pockets, utterly convinced he had uncovered the truth. “Jodie put you up to this, didn’t she.” It wasn’t a question. “She really is something else.” Peter’s head was bowed, his hair obscuring his eyes. “A person that selfish… she wouldn’t die before she’s done ruining people’s lives,” he said, his voice laced with scorn, as if the flicker of panic in his eyes moments before had been a mere illusion. I bowed my head, helpless. Of course. Peter probably wished I would just drop dead. “That’s right, I was just messing with you! So what?” Maya’s voice suddenly turned manic. “Jodie is happier than she has ever been since she left you all! Did you really think she liked living in that toxic wasteland of a family? She was sick of it! Why is it always you people who get to summon her and dismiss her whenever you please? You want to find her? Then you can crawl over here yourselves!” Maya spat out an address and, without waiting for a reply, hung up. Everyone stared at each other. The director and camera operators exchanged nervous glances, but no one dared to move. They just kept the cameras rolling. Sonny stood frozen, his expression impassive, but the veins on the back of his hand were a web of angry blue. Peter remained with his head down, his thoughts a mystery. “Go. We’ll go right now. Let’s see what kind of game this little liar Jodie is playing!” The furious voice came from behind them. My mother, leaning carefully on Chloe’s arm, strode forward. “And bring the family register,” she commanded. “The Ashfords have no such person in their family!” Chloe froze, then turned to the camera, her face a mask of pitiful pleading. “Sister, I know you’re watching. Please, I’m begging you, stop making Mom and our brothers angry. It’s not too late to admit you’re wrong.” My grandmother’s intent was clear. She was going to disown me, live on this show, in front of the whole world. In a hundred years, the Ashford family had never had such a disgraceful child. Sonny’s expression shifted through a storm of emotions. Finally, he spoke. “Jodie, you’ve gone too far this time.” “It’s time you learned a lesson.” Hearing that, I silently floated into one of the cars. And I silently cursed myself. Jodie. How could you still hold out any hope that your brother would protect you?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393303”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was the third year of my marriage to Marcus Kane. He was thirty-five. I wasn’t even twenty-one, just a senior in college. I was still debating whether I wanted to be a stay-at-home wife when I overheard him chatting with a group of his high-powered friends. “Sophie has nothing going for her but her youth,” he said, his voice casual. “Compared to her, Isabel is so much more sophisticated. I’m starting to regret this marriage. Keeping a young girl on the side costs pennies compared to this. A divorce now would be a massive financial hit.” The next day, I handed him the divorce papers. When he saw the clause stating I would walk away with nothing, a long sigh of relief escaped him. He even put on a show of magnanimity. “I’ll give you twenty million,” he said. “Consider it compensation.” I smiled and refused. “I’m still young. I can afford to play.” He didn’t know that my brother was Alex Thorne, one of the most powerful men in the city. For years, Marcus had only managed to climb into the inner circle of the elite thanks to my brother’s support. By divorcing me, his losses were only just beginning. 1 For my senior year internship, I decided to go to Marcus’s company. I wanted to be able to sneak a few more glances at my handsome husband every day. As a low-level intern, I kept such a low profile that even Marcus didn’t know I was there. I didn’t want to be a distraction or cause him any trouble. Sometimes, I’d overhear the other interns gossiping about him. I’d listen intently, but never joined in. “Mr. Kane is so hot. Thirty-five is a man’s prime.” “Too bad he’s married. And to some unknown young girl, apparently.” “Ugh, why can’t I be that lucky…” When I was eighteen, Marcus had pursued me with a singular focus. On our very first date, he told me he was looking for a wife, not a fling. He gave me the ring right then and there. I met his intensity with my own. We dated for a year and then got married. It was impulsive, intoxicating, sweet, and blissful. He gave me a fantasy romance beyond my wildest dreams. The love of a powerful CEO was direct and overwhelming, a force of nature that swept me off my feet and left me completely disoriented. If I hadn’t come to intern at his company, I might never have discovered his secrets. Isabel. Marcus’s executive assistant. She was stunningly beautiful, a classic, sophisticated woman. She often accompanied him on business trips and to client dinners. She had her hand in every aspect of the company; in some ways, she knew it even better than he did. Before they learned of his marriage, everyone in the company assumed Isabel was the true boss’s wife. I’d even hear the veteran employees, who had been with them from the start, complaining in the cafeteria. “Mr. Kane must be blind, having a goddess like Isabel by his side and not cherishing her.” “And after she quit her senior position at that publicly-traded company just to be his assistant.” “Just you watch. Once the passion fades, he’ll divorce that girl and end up with Isabel.” The rumors were everywhere, but I never let them bother me. After all, the passion between Marcus and me was reignited every single night. That is, until a company dinner where Isabel, drunk, confessed her feelings for Marcus in front of everyone. It wasn’t so much a confession as an ultimatum. She asked him if he had any feelings for her. Marcus was silent for a long time. Isabel pressed him again. “If you don’t have feelings for me, why won’t you approve my resignation letter?” Marcus’s face was grim. He finally answered with a single word. “Yes.” Then, he looked at her, his gaze full of a deep, complicated emotion. “I do have feelings for you. I can’t lose you, so I can’t sign your resignation. Is that okay?” Isabel smiled. She drained a glass of liquor from the table, grabbed her purse, and walked out. The air in the room was thick for two seconds. Then Marcus chased after her. The only people at that dinner were the old guard, the ones who had built the company with Marcus and Isabel. I wasn’t there. But a bubbly girl I’d become friendly with, Jenna, loved gossip. She’d filmed the whole thing and sent it to me privately. Jenna texted me: 【Do you think something’s going to happen between Mr. Kane and Isabel tonight?】 I replied: 【Probably not… I hope.】 【They’re grown adults, they’ve known each other for years, they have this deep connection, they’ve been drinking, and she just confessed… and you think nothing will happen?】 I typed back, my fingers firm: 【Marcus is married. He should have some self-control. Besides, Isabel doesn’t need to be a homewrecker!】 【You have a point. But we’ll know for sure tomorrow if something happened.】 I didn’t understand what she meant by “we’ll know for sure tomorrow.” But a moment after I closed her chat window, the answer came to me. A message from Marcus. He said he wouldn’t be home tonight. A last-minute work thing. A tremor went through my heart. I immediately called him. At first, he didn’t pick up. I called again, and again. Finally, he answered. “Hey, baby. My phone was on silent, I didn’t hear it. What’s up?” I fought to keep my voice steady, my nails digging into the flesh of my palm. “Honey, are you really not coming home tonight?” “Yeah, it’s a team dinner, everyone’s here. I can’t get away. Please understand, baby.” I bit my lip, forcing myself to ask the next question. “Are there any women there?” He paused, then chuckled. “No. When did you start checking up on me? Want me to video call and prove my innocence?” As he was speaking, I heard a soft, rustling sound. The distinct sound of a crisp dress shirt rubbing against hotel sheets. In the past, when our love was a fever, that was a sound I heard often. “Hnngh…” A low grunt escaped his lips on the other end. In that single, fleeting moment, all the turmoil in my heart vanished. After three years with Marcus, after countless nights of passion, I knew exactly what that sound meant. It was the sound of a man trying to suppress a wave of pleasure. A detail he probably wasn’t even aware of himself. Perfect. I didn’t even have to stop him from cheating. The deed was already done. I gave a bitter laugh. “No need for a video call…” I was afraid it would burn my eyes out. “You have fun. I’m going to sleep.” My heart felt like a pile of cold ash. I was about to hang up when Marcus spoke again, his voice now a low, raspy drawl. “Baby, we just closed a huge deal tonight. Starting tomorrow, the team’s going to be in overdrive. I’ll probably be working very late for a while. You don’t have to wait up for me for dinner.” Working in overdrive. Or getting “overdrive” with Isabel. To me, it no longer mattered. 2 The phone call ended. I didn’t sleep a wink. I arrived at the office with dark circles under my eyes. My brain was still a blank fog when Jenna sidled up to me, eager to continue last night’s gossip. “Something definitely happened between Mr. Kane and Isabel last night.” I frowned slightly. She continued, “Mr. Kane’s shirt was all wrinkled this morning, and… he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. That means he didn’t go home at all, right?” I nodded, not having the energy to praise her keen eye. “And Isabel was late this morning,” Jenna went on, “When she came in, she was practically glowing. You know how she’s usually all business? Today she was like a different person.” “A different person how?” I asked. She thought for a moment. “Brighter, sexier, almost… purring. See for yourself.” I looked up. I saw Isabel walk in, wearing a tight, form-fitting dress that hugged her curves. I’d seen that dress before. I had been shopping with Marcus when I spotted it. They didn’t have my size, so I paid for it and asked the clerk to ship it to Marcus’s office when it came in. Apparently, the shipment had arrived. But the recipient had changed. Isabel was in a great mood. She walked in and asked what everyone wanted to drink, her treat. The office erupted in cheers. I sat in my corner, a bitter cocktail of emotions churning in my stomach. I tried to lose myself in work, but it was useless. I drifted through the morning in a haze. At lunch, I was eating takeout at my desk when Isabel walked into Marcus’s office carrying several bags of exquisite-looking food. She went in. And didn’t come out until the afternoon. When she finally emerged, it was late, almost time to go home. Beside me, Jenna made a tsk-tsk sound. “The world these days,” she sighed. “Of all the men Isabel could have, she had to go for a married one. Little Chang, whose desk is closer to the office, said that as soon as Isabel went in, she threw herself into Mr. Kane’s arms. They nearly turned the office into a hotel room!” With that, Jenna sent me a photo that Chang had secretly taken. Isabel was sitting on Marcus’s lap, feeding him. The look on their faces, their posture… it was painfully intimate. “I can’t imagine how heartbroken Mr. Kane’s wife would be if she saw this,” Jenna whispered with a sigh. Across from us, our manager, Mr. Davies, frowned. “They’re two consenting adults. What business is it of yours?” Jenna didn’t catch his meaning and added playfully, “You’re right. She’s definitely the ‘mistress’ in this love story!” Mr. Davies was not amused. He slapped a thick binder on Jenna’s desk. “Since you’re so free, you can finish this. You’re not leaving until it’s done.” Jenna’s face fell. I quietly sent her a message: 【Mr. Davies and Isabel go way back. He’s definitely on her side. You should probably avoid comments like that in the future.】 Jenna replied with a string of crying emojis. I tried to console her: 【Don’t worry, I’ll help you with it. We’ll finish it quickly and I’ll treat you to lobster rolls after.】 She cheered up immediately. That evening, after we had finally finished our extra work and were about to leave for dinner, Mr. Davies called out to us again. “You’ve worked hard. Let’s all go out for a late supper.” He didn’t give us a chance to refuse. He led us to a restaurant near the office. After dinner, he herded us to a karaoke bar. We were reluctant, but we had no choice. As interns, we had no power. We found a dark corner and started playing a game on our phones, getting completely absorbed. We didn’t even notice the private room slowly filling up with more people. Until I heard a familiar voice. I looked up and saw Marcus, holding court in the center of a group of industry bigwigs. At first, they talked about projects. Then, the conversation drifted to their personal lives. Kids, wives, in-laws… and of course, mistresses. “I saw Isabel’s post on social media,” one of them said. “Something about soulmates finally getting together. What’s up? Did you finally wise up and claim her?” My ears perked up. Marcus’s voice was calm. “You guys don’t understand the situation that day. I had no choice. Isabel was forcing my hand. If I didn’t keep her, she was going to quit. You know how important she is to the company. The company can’t run without her. And… you could say I can’t run without her.” “But is Isabel willing to be the other woman? Marcus, be careful you don’t play with fire and get burned.” “Yeah, man, we all saw how much effort you put into marrying that little girl. Forget about whether you can keep your side piece happy, what if your main squeeze finds out? All hell would break loose.” “Not necessarily,” another chimed in. “If Isabel herself doesn’t mind, what right does the little girl have to complain?” “She’s been coddled by Marcus for years. Do you really think she could handle going back to a normal, ordinary life? Even if she found out, she wouldn’t dare make a move. She’ll cling to the ‘Mrs. Kane’ title for dear life. At least it guarantees a life of luxury.” They went back and forth, but the consensus was clear: as long as Marcus could keep Isabel happy and quiet, the one at home wouldn’t dare cause a scene. They even congratulated him on successfully having his cake and eating it too. Jenna’s face was scrunched up in disgust. She leaned over and whispered, “So gross.” Then she added, “I mean, what Mr. Kane is doing is scummy, but they’re not wrong. That girl hasn’t even graduated, right? No family connections, no career of her own… making a scene would only hurt her. What do you think…?” I nodded. “She won’t make a scene. In this day and age, everyone wants to be civilized.” Everything can be discussed calmly. Even divorce. Just then, Marcus put down his glass and spoke. “Yeah,” he said, “Sophie has nothing going for her but her youth. Compared to her, she’s not as sophisticated as Isabel.” “But Isabel has a proud streak. I don’t know how long she’ll be willing to put up with this. I’m starting to regret this marriage. Keeping a young girl on the side costs pennies compared to this. A divorce now would be a massive financial hit.” So, that was it. He was worried about the financial loss. After all, we were legally married. A divorce meant I would get half of his post-marital assets. Fine. I would give him what he wanted. I would walk away with nothing. But he would have to bear the consequences of my departure. 3 The party finally broke up. Isabel came and collected a very drunk Marcus. I watched from a distance as they embraced, their mouths locked together. Perhaps they had been holding back for too long. The moment they got into the car, it began to rock violently. I silently filmed the entire scene. Then, I called my brother. “Hey, little sis! What’s up? What’s got you calling me so late?” The sound of my brother’s voice touched the softest part of my heart. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. A single tear escaped, then another, until they were streaming down my face. “Kiddo, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” I was sobbing too hard to speak. My brother immediately asked where I was. I mumbled an address. Half an hour later, he was there. I was huddled on a curb, shivering. He took off his jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and sat quietly beside me. “Where’s Marcus?” “He’s cheating on me.” My brother froze, his jaw tightening. “Where is he? I’ll kill him.” I grabbed his hand and shook my head. “Don’t. It would only dirty your hands.” My brother stomped his foot on the ground in frustration, but it wasn’t enough to quell his anger. He asked me, “Are you going to divorce him?” I nodded without hesitation. “Is there any chance it’s a misunderstanding?” I showed him the videos and photos on my phone. I didn’t have to say a word. My brother had already made his decision. He immediately took out his phone and made several calls. The first was to his lawyer friend, asking him to draft a divorce agreement for me. The second was to all the suppliers connected to Marcus’s company. He instructed them to cancel any newly negotiated but unsigned contracts, not to renew any expiring ones, and to revoke all discounts on existing contracts, charging full market price from now on. After he finished his calls, my brother took my hand. “Come on, let’s go home.” I shook my head, tears still clinging to my eyelashes. “Before we go home, I want to move out.” My brother didn’t hesitate. He drove me to the house Marcus and I shared. It was a house Marcus had bought. I had no sentimental attachment to it. But I had lived there for three years, and I never thought I would leave like this. “If you want this house, I’ll get you the best lawyer to make sure you get it.” “No, brother. Anything that’s been touched by Marcus… it just feels dirty to me now.” 4 After moving out of the villa, I decided to wait for Marcus to contact me before I laid my cards on the table. Unfortunately, a week passed. He hadn’t even noticed I was gone. He would just send me a daily text: 【Working late again tonight. Don’t wait up.】 But in reality, I saw him and Isabel together every day. Jenna, after her “mistress” comment, was being targeted by our department manager. She was buried under a mountain of work. I couldn’t bear to see her suffer alone, so I stayed late with her every night. When we were working late, we could often hear the soft, decadent sounds that drifted from the CEO’s office. Jenna couldn’t help but complain. “Mr. Kane is so cheap. He won’t even spring for a hotel room.” I gave a wry, bitter smile. “Maybe doing it in the office… adds to the atmosphere.” Passing by, I couldn’t resist. I recorded a few of their more… explicit encounters on my phone. I had a feeling they might come in handy later. I spent the rest of my internship diligently working alongside Jenna. When it was finally over, she told me she wanted to stay on. “It’s hard to find a job out there. And even though I can’t stand Mr. Kane, a girl’s gotta eat.” I wished her luck. She asked me if I wanted to stay. I told her I just wanted to get my internship certificate and get as far away from this toxic place as possible. I never expected that at the last minute, I would be stabbed in the back by my own friend. I was the only intern in our group who didn’t receive a passing evaluation. I was furious. I demanded an explanation from my department head. He simply said it was Isabel’s decision. I thought Isabel must have found out who I was and was targeting me on purpose. I never imagined that Jenna would be the one to confess. “That day… I don’t know who overheard me call Isabel a ‘mistress.’ The word got out, and all this overtime we’ve been doing… it wasn’t from Mr. Davies. It was Isabel targeting us. I was a dead woman, but because you stayed with me and worked late every night, I…” Jenna was sobbing uncontrollably. “I really need this job. I’m not as pretty as you, or as smart as you. So I went to Isabel… and I told her that you were the one who called her a mistress.” “I thought… I thought she would just not offer you a job. I never thought she would refuse to even give you your internship certificate. It’s my fault… I’m so sorry…” I laughed. A laugh born of pure rage. Partly at my friend’s betrayal. But mostly at Isabel, for abusing her power for personal revenge. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Stop crying. Thank you for being my friend during this time. I wish you all the best in the future.” With that, I picked up the folder I had been preparing for a long time and turned to leave. Jenna grabbed my arm, her eyes full of pleading. “The thing with Isabel…” My voice was flat. “Don’t worry. I’ll take the blame for this.” Then, I lifted my head and shouted to the entire office. “She, Isabel Thorne, is a mistress! Why is that so unspeakable!” Instantly, everyone in the office froze, their heads swiveling towards me. Their eyes were wide with shock. And I, holding my failing internship report, marched straight into the conference room. At that moment, all the senior executives and department heads were in their morning meeting. My arrival was clearly unwelcome. The executives frowned, their faces showing their distaste for this impertinent young girl. It was true. In the three years I had been married to Marcus, not a single person in his company knew what Mrs. Kane looked like. Not even Isabel. In the entire room, only Marcus showed a flicker of surprise when he saw me. But he didn’t speak. It was Isabel, the meeting’s moderator, who spoke first. She tilted her head back, her beautiful, sophisticated face a mask of disdain and impatience. “What could possibly be so important that it has to be now?” I didn’t hold back. “Isabel, is it because I called you Mr. Kane’s mistress that you’re deliberately sabotaging me and refusing to issue my internship certificate?” The others in the room looked at Isabel, their expressions shifting to surprise. Isabel froze, likely shocked that a mere intern would be so bold. She narrowed her eyes. “So you know. Then why bother coming in here to ask?” Denying it was pointless. The rumors had already spread throughout the company. To shut people up, she had to make an example of someone. And in her eyes, I was the perfect sacrificial lamb. I met her gaze, my voice rising. “I’m sorry, Isabel. I shouldn’t have said you were Mr. Kane’s mistress!” Isabel’s face flushed with a hint of embarrassment, but she held her ground, crossing her arms and looking down her nose at me. “It’s too late for apologies now!” I looked at Marcus. His face was dark, clearly displeased. But what did he have to be displeased about? He was the one who had lost face first. I sneered. “Oh, it’s not too late. I’m going to set the record straight for you right now!” I pulled open the door behind me, my voice climbing higher and higher. “Of course Isabel isn’t Mr. Kane’s mistress! In the old days, to even be a concubine, you had to be formally brought into the family, you had to bow to me, the primary wife! A woman with no formal acknowledgement is just a side piece! She wouldn’t even be allowed in the family mausoleum!” My declaration made Isabel’s face turn shades of green and white. The others in the room finally realized who I was. As did Isabel. All eyes turned to Marcus. He was seething with rage. In our year of dating and three years of marriage… this was the first time I had ever seen him truly angry. “Have you made enough of a scene?!” How could it be enough? I wanted to be civilized, too. You people didn’t let me! “I have only one demand. Give me my internship certificate!” Marcus’s chest heaved with fury. He was still trying to defend Isabel. “Internship evaluations are determined by the department heads. You shouldn’t be coming to Isabel. You should be talking to your direct supervisor.” Isabel was visibly shaken, but hearing Marcus defend her gave her a sliver of courage. “Yes… that’s right. I’m just Mr. Kane’s assistant. I don’t have the authority to make decisions about interns.” What a pair of fakes. One more pathetic than the other. This was his company. Issuing an internship certificate was a matter of a single word from him. By saying this, he was making it clear that my feelings, my face, meant nothing to him. He was more concerned with protecting Isabel’s image in front of his employees. The moment he spoke, I understood. Marcus had never, not for a single moment, intended to be on my side. Fine. I met his eyes, and without a shred of hesitation, I said, “What if I trade my divorce agreement for it?” I pulled out the papers and laid them on the conference table. I added, “I’ll waive all claims to my share of his assets in exchange for that piece of paper. You’re not losing a thing.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393302”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Five years into their arranged marriage, Olivia and Dodge remained strangers. Their lovemaking was a ritual of politeness. Dodge would kiss her collarbone and murmur, “I’m starting now.” He’d undress her slowly, asking, “Is this okay?” As he entered her, his voice grew hoarse: “Tell me to stop if it hurts.” The bed rocked violently for hours. Olivia gasped, fingers clutching sheets, before whispering, “I’m sorry… it’s been three hours. I can’t take more.” Dodge froze. “My apologies,” he rasped, pulling away with a ragged breath. He pressed a desperate kiss to her forehead before fleeing to the shower. Olivia dressed trembling fingers, covering his marks. She turned on the lamp and pulled out a divorce agreement. Five years. It was time to end this. Everyone in their circle knew the story: the grand merger of the Thorne and Croft empires, sealed by the marriage of their children. Olivia Thorne and Dodge Croft, a model couple, respectful and admired by all. What no one knew was that their hearts belonged to others. Dodge’s heart belonged to his adopted sister, a love forbidden by societal norms. Olivia’s heart belonged to a man who had died five years ago, a love she could never have again. One lost to circumstance, the other to death. On their wedding day, they had confessed everything, agreeing to a five-year contract marriage. It was a shield against family pressure, a business necessity. They would fulfill their duties, nothing more. After five years, they would go their separate ways. Now, five years had passed. It was time. She was waiting for Dodge to emerge from the bathroom to discuss it, but the door suddenly swung open. He strode out, his hair still dripping, and grabbed his car keys. Olivia blinked. “Where are you going so late?” she asked instinctively. Dodge paused, his usually cool voice laced with an uncharacteristic urgency. “Rosie had a nightmare. I have to go be with her. You should get some rest.” Rosie. His adopted sister. His true love. Olivia understood. She never questioned his late-night departures to Rosie’s side, not when Rosie had a car accident, or a fever, or even just cramps. She had adhered strictly to their contract, keeping to her side of the house, never intruding on his time with the woman he loved. But tonight was different. Thinking of the conversation that lay ahead, she had to stop him. “Can you spare five minutes? I have something important to discuss.” Dodge seemed taken aback. “Is it very important?” Olivia paused for a moment before answering softly, “I suppose it is.” He was about to speak when his phone rang. He glanced down. It was Rosie. The moment he answered, her tearful voice came through the line. “Brother, I’m so scared. Are you here yet? I want you to hold me while I sleep…” Dodge’s expression softened instantly. “I’m almost there,” he said, his voice gentle. He hung up and turned back to Olivia, his tone once again polite. “Whatever it is, you can decide. We don’t need to discuss it.” Olivia was momentarily stunned, but then she nodded. She flipped the divorce agreement to the last page and held it out to him. “Then sign this.” Dodge nodded, signed his name without a second glance, and hurried out. As the sound of his car’s engine faded into the distance, Olivia picked up her phone and dialed her lawyer. “The divorce agreement is signed. How long until it’s finalized?” The lawyer’s voice was crisp. “Ms. Thorne, you just need to get through the one-month cooling-off period.” A wave of relief washed over Olivia. After hanging up, she booked a flight to Southshore. There was a reason for Southshore. A few weeks ago, her best friend had spotted a college student in a bar there who bore an uncanny resemblance to Leo. The boy seemed poor, working part-time to make ends meet. Olivia couldn’t bear the thought of someone with Leo’s face suffering like that. Since he needed money and she had plenty, she decided to make him an offer. She sent her friend to negotiate. After a few days of silence, he agreed. The only condition was that he couldn’t leave Southshore; his grandmother was there. Olivia considered it. Her own parents were gone; she had no real family left in this city. So be it. She would move to Southshore. To be able to see that face, so like Leo’s, every day for the rest of her life… surely, that would bring her some measure of happiness. 2 That night, Olivia had a pleasant dream. She woke with a smile still lingering on her lips. The thought of being free from the charade of their respectful marriage, of seeing Leo’s face every day, made her feel light and hopeful. She found herself wishing time would fly, that the cooling-off period would be over in a flash. When she went downstairs, the maid had already prepared breakfast. She had just finished eating and was about to go back upstairs to pack when she heard a commotion at the door. She looked up to see Dodge walking in, followed by Rosie and several bodyguards carrying luggage. Dodge was dressed in a impeccably tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs, giving him an air of cool, aristocratic grace. Rosie, in a white dress, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, clung to his arm with a sweet smile. They looked like a perfect couple, made for each other. Dodge stepped aside to let the bodyguards bring in the luggage, then explained to Olivia, “Rosie’s been having nightmares lately. She only feels safe when I’m around, so I’ve brought her to stay for a while.” He then pulled a small, exquisite box from his pocket and offered it to her. “I had my people bid on this necklace at an auction. Consider it… compensation.” Olivia glanced at the box but didn’t take it. She gently pushed it back. “That’s not necessary. I don’t need compensation. There are plenty of rooms in this house.” Dodge was clearly surprised. “You’re not angry?” Olivia was even more surprised. “Angry about what? In a month, she’ll be moving in for good anyway.” Dodge froze, not understanding her meaning. What did she mean, in a month she’d be moving in for good? Before he could ask, Rosie chimed in, a triumphant, provocative smile on her lips. “Well, thank you then, Ms. Thorne.” She never called Olivia “sister-in-law,” because she never acknowledged her position. Five years ago, when Olivia had first married into the Croft family, Rosie had stormed into their bridal suite with a group of bodyguards and smashed everything to pieces. Her eyes had been red then, like a cornered animal, screaming, “How dare you take my brother from me!” Somehow, Dodge had managed to calm her down, and she hadn’t caused a scene since. Perhaps because, married or not, Dodge’s adoration for Rosie had never wavered. He still took her shopping, soothed her to sleep, and even stayed by her bedside all night when she was sick. He treated his wife, Olivia, as if she were invisible. “Brother, didn’t you say you’d take me to the amusement park after we moved in?” Rosie cooed, shaking Dodge’s arm, her voice dripping with honey. Dodge looked down at her, his eyes so tender they could have melted stone. “Of course. We’ll go in a bit.” He looked up at Olivia, as if about to say something more. But Olivia simply smiled her gentle smile. “You two go on. Just let me know if you’ll be back for dinner, and I’ll have the maids prepare something.” Rosie’s lips curved into a smug smile. “Well, thank you then, Ms. Thorne.” Olivia heard the challenge and triumph in her voice but didn’t react. She just gave a polite nod and went back to her room. She spent the entire day packing. By the time she was finished, it was dark. Dodge and Rosie still weren’t back. Olivia took a shower, changed into her pajamas, and got into bed. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, she heard voices outside her door. “Brother, just sleep with me. I’m scared all alone,” Rosie’s voice, pleading and coquettish. “Rosie, my wife is here. It wouldn’t be right,” Dodge’s voice, still gentle, but tinged with weariness. “What’s not right about it? You love me, and I love you. Olivia Thorne is just a placeholder.” Olivia’s fingers curled slightly, but she didn’t move, her eyes still closed, pretending to be asleep. Outside the door, Dodge was silent for a moment before he said in a low voice, “Rosie, I can be as good to you as I’ve always been. My heart is all yours. But anything else… I can’t. I’m still married. If we were to… it would be bad for your reputation. You just need to know that I’ll always love you.” “Then you’re not allowed to touch her tonight,” Rosie said, her tone demanding. Dodge seemed to say something else, but his voice was too low for Olivia to hear. A moment later, the door opened quietly. Dodge came in. His eyes fell on the suitcases by the bed, a look of surprise on his face. “What’s all this?” Olivia was about to tell him the truth, but then she remembered his words: “Whatever it is, you can decide.” He didn’t even know they were getting divorced. Did she really need to tell him she was moving to Southshore? So she lied. “Just clearing out some things for the new season.” Dodge nodded, asked no more questions, and went into the bathroom. When he came out, he was wearing only a towel, water droplets tracing a path down his chest to his chiseled abs. He walked to the bed and leaned down to kiss her. Olivia, startled, instinctively pushed him away. “Didn’t your sister tell you not to touch me?” Dodge froze. “You heard?” Olivia nodded. Dodge was silent for a moment, then changed the subject. “I want you. Is that okay?” 3 Olivia wanted to refuse, but she remembered their pre-nuptial agreement to fulfill their marital duties. Since the divorce wasn’t final, she relented with a resigned nod. “Fine.” Dodge leaned in, his kiss more forceful than usual. A soft moan escaped Olivia’s lips, her fingers clutching the sheets. For the first time in a long time, Dodge smiled, his voice a low, raspy whisper. “Can’t hold back? I’ll be gentler.” Olivia closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re welcome,” he replied, a hint of a smile in his voice, before deepening the kiss. When Olivia awoke, the room was empty. She got up, dressed, and went downstairs to find Dodge gone. Only Rosie was at the dining table, her head bowed over her breakfast. Olivia approached the table and asked politely, “Did you sleep well? Is the breakfast to your liking?” Rosie didn’t answer, didn’t even look up, as if Olivia were invisible. Olivia sighed inwardly. Compared to Dodge, Rosie was utterly ill-mannered. She said no more, silently taking a seat and starting on her own breakfast. But as she took a bite of toast, a wave of nausea washed over her. She shot up from her chair and rushed to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the sink. When she came out, she found Rosie standing at the door, her face a thunderous mask. Her eyes, sharp as daggers, pierced through Olivia. “Are you pregnant?” she hissed. Olivia was stunned. Before she could explain, Rosie snapped. Her voice was shrill with rage. “I tolerated you marrying him, I even tolerated you sleeping with him, but I will not tolerate you having my brother’s child!” She spun around and shouted to the bodyguards at the door, “Hold her down!” Then, to a maid, “Go get the abortion pills!” The maid and bodyguards froze, exchanging terrified glances. No one moved. Rosie’s eyes were bloodshot. “Didn’t my brother tell you to take good care of me before he left? Now you won’t even listen to a word I say? Is this how you take care of me?” The staff, intimidated, finally moved to restrain Olivia. Olivia, finally snapping out of her shock, began to struggle. “You’ve misunderstood! I’m not pregnant, I just have an upset stomach…” But Rosie was beyond reason. Seeing the maid hadn’t returned, she stormed into a room, rummaged through a medicine cabinet, and emerged with a bottle of pills. She marched back to Olivia. “Still trying to deny it? I won’t let you have this baby! I absolutely won’t!” Her voice was wild. She grabbed Olivia’s chin, forcing her mouth open, and shoved the pills down her throat. Olivia shook her head violently, but the pills slid down her throat. A searing pain ripped through her stomach. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and her vision swam. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. She collapsed to the floor, her consciousness fading. When she woke up again, she was in a hospital bed. Through a hazy fog, she heard a doctor’s exasperated voice. “Mr. Croft, your wife wasn’t even pregnant. How could you let someone force-feed her abortion pills? It’s a good thing she was brought in for a stomach pump immediately, otherwise she would have lost half her stomach.” 4 Olivia slowly opened her eyes. The doctor was gone. Dodge was sitting by her bed, his brow furrowed, a guilty look in his eyes. Seeing she was awake, he helped her sit up. “I know what happened. I’m so sorry. I never thought Rosie would do something like this.” Olivia’s stomach was still aching, and she barely had the strength to speak. She sighed softly. “Let the police handle it. She’s not a child anymore. She can’t keep acting this way. A few days in jail might do her some good.” She reached for her phone to call the police, but Dodge snatched it from her. “No. Rosie didn’t mean it. Olivia, please, just let this go.” Olivia stared at him. “So, I went through that for nothing?” Dodge was silent for a long moment before he finally said, “I’m sorry. I’ll compensate you. But Rosie… don’t cause trouble for her.” Olivia looked at him and sighed again. “Don’t you think you spoil her too much?” Dodge shook his head. “If the man you loved were still alive, you wouldn’t want him to suffer even the slightest harm, would you?” Olivia was taken aback. After a long pause, she said softly, “I understand. It won’t happen again.” Even though she had decided to let Rosie off the hook, Dodge felt a strange sense of unease. He stared at her face, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “It’s been so long, and you’re still thinking about him? He’s been dead for years.” Olivia didn’t understand why he was suddenly so agitated. He had always known she loved Leo. She had never interfered with his love for Rosie. Why did he seem so angry about her feelings for Leo now? Before she could answer, Dodge’s phone rang. It was Rosie. After taking the call, he seemed to compose himself, the strange anger from before suppressed. He stood up, once again the polite, distant husband. “Rosie is acting up again. I have to go. I’ll come back to see you when I have time.” As he turned to leave, Olivia couldn’t help but call out to him. “You should tell your sister. She seems very concerned about whether I’ll get pregnant. But I can’t. On the first day we were together, I had my tubes tied.” Dodge stopped dead in his tracks. He spun around, his face a mask of disbelief. “What did you say?!” Olivia was even more surprised by his reaction. In their five years of marriage, he had always been so composed, his face a carefully controlled mask. But today, he had been so uncharacteristically emotional. “I would never have a child with anyone but Leo,” she said. “Surely, you can understand that.” Dodge’s face darkened, as if he were fighting back some powerful emotion. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You will go and have that procedure reversed. Immediately.” Sensing her reluctance, he added, “It’s a marital duty.” Olivia shook her head. “But we’re in the process of getting a divorce. I no longer have any marital duties to fulfill.” 5 Olivia finally told Dodge the truth, but he didn’t hear it. Just as she was speaking, Rosie called again, demanding his attention. He murmured something soothing into the phone and hurried away. Olivia sighed, but there was no real turmoil in her heart. She was used to this. In Dodge’s world, Rosie was always the top priority. For the next few days, Dodge sent a maid with meals and hired a nurse to care for her. He didn’t appear in person, but his arrangements were thoughtful. The only downside was the constant buzzing of her phone. It was Rosie, sending a barrage of provocative photos: Dodge taking her shopping, buying her jewelry, dining at fancy restaurants. Each photo was accompanied by a caption bragging about his affection. Olivia looked at the photos without a trace of jealousy. She simply forwarded each one to Dodge with a note: “From your sister.” After a long silence, Dodge replied politely: “I’m sorry. I’ll handle it.” Olivia responded: “Okay. Thank you.” She thought their conversation was over, but then another message came through: “Did you have the tubal ligation reversed? Please do it as soon as possible.” Olivia stared at the message, baffled by his sudden obsession with the matter. They were getting divorced. She wasn’t going to have his child. Why was he so insistent? She put her phone down and didn’t reply. On the day of her discharge, Dodge came to pick her up himself. When Olivia opened the car door, she saw Rosie sitting in the passenger seat. Rosie turned, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Brother and I are going to an auction later. I get carsick, so I’m afraid you’ll have to take the back seat, Ms. Thorne.” Olivia said nothing, silently getting into the back. As soon as she was in, she heard Dodge’s low voice, directed at Rosie, “Did you forget what I told you before?” Rosie pouted and reluctantly turned to Olivia. “I’m sorry, Ms. Thorne. I was too impulsive before. I’m sorry I put you in the hospital.” Olivia was surprised by the apology. Then she saw Rosie’s swollen lips and Dodge’s weary expression and understood. Dodge, who had always refused to cross that line with Rosie, had kissed her to appease her and make her apologize. Olivia kept this observation to herself, simply nodding. Dodge glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Did you have that procedure reversed?” Olivia didn’t know why he kept asking, but she answered calmly, “Yes.” It was true that she hadn’t wanted children before. But now, things were different. She thought of the young student who looked so much like Leo. A lifetime was a long time. Perhaps having a child who looked like Leo wouldn’t be so bad. Dodge misinterpreted her reason. He nodded, a hint of a smile in his eyes, as if he were pleased. He continued, “I’m taking Rosie to an auction later. Olivia, you should come with us.” Olivia was about to refuse, but then she thought about how long it had been since she’d been out, and she agreed. At the auction, Dodge bought almost everything Rosie pointed at—jewelry, paintings, antiques, each one worth a fortune. People around them whispered, “Mr. Croft is so good to his adopted sister. Better than he is to his own wife.” Hearing this, Dodge turned to Olivia and asked gently, “Is there anything you want? I’ll buy it for you.” Olivia was about to shake her head when she saw the watch being presented on stage. It was a classic men’s watch, simple and elegant. She thought it would look wonderful on Leo. But he could never wear it. But… she could buy it for the student who looked so much like him. She raised her paddle. “Three million.” In that moment, Dodge’s expression shifted. He had been buying things for Rosie all night, and nothing for Olivia. And yet, the one thing she wanted was a watch for him? A complex emotion washed over him, and his gaze on her softened. 6 Seeing the look in Dodge’s eyes, Rosie’s face fell. “Five million!” she declared, raising her own paddle. “Six million!” “Seven million!” The price soared as they went back and forth. Finally, Olivia placed a winning bid that stunned the entire room into silence. Everyone assumed she had bought the watch for Dodge, and they sighed in admiration. “Ms. Thorne is truly devoted to Mr. Croft!” When the watch was brought to her, Dodge draped his jacket over her shoulders and whispered, “Thank you. Why don’t you put it on me?” Olivia froze, about to explain that the watch wasn’t for him, but his phone rang. A work emergency. He had to leave immediately, telling the driver to take Olivia and Rosie home. Since she had what she came for, Olivia saw no reason to stay. She turned to leave. As she was getting into the car, she looked back for Rosie, but saw her giving a subtle signal to a bodyguard. A sense of unease washed over her. The next moment, a sharp blow landed on the back of her neck. Darkness. When she woke up, she was in a walk-in freezer. The air was frigid, her hands and feet numb with cold. Rosie stood outside, watching her through the glass door. “Olivia, don’t think a silly little watch will win my brother’s heart. He will only ever love me.” Olivia didn’t know how to explain. She was shivering, her voice weak. “You’ve misunderstood. The watch wasn’t for your brother.” Rosie scoffed. “If not for him, then who? You can stay in here and think about it. This is your punishment for desiring my brother.” With that, she smashed the watch on the floor and walked away. “Rosie! Rosie!” Even with her placid temperament, Olivia was furious. Why did Rosie keep targeting her? Dodge must have told her their marriage was just a business arrangement. She had heard him profess his love for Rosie time and time again. If she had known how unstable Rosie was, she never would have agreed to this marriage. The freezer door was sealed shut. Her phone had no signal, its screen coated in a thin layer of ice. The cold was like a thousand tiny needles, piercing her skin, her bones. Just as she felt herself losing consciousness, she heard a loud bang. The freezer door had been kicked open. Dodge was running towards her. When she woke up again, she was in her own bed. Dodge sat beside her, his eyes full of guilt and exhaustion. “I’m sorry. I never thought Rosie would do something like this again.” Olivia, pale and weak, asked softly, “And this time, I can’t hold her accountable either, can I?” Dodge hesitated. “I’ve already punished her.” “What was the punishment?” He hesitated again, his voice strained. “I… made her skip a meal.” Olivia stared at him, stunned. A long moment passed before she said, “I see.” Dodge watched her, his voice probing. “You’re not angry?” “I am,” she said, her voice tired but calm. “But then I think, if Leo made a mistake, I wouldn’t have the heart to punish him either. I suppose that’s what love is. You love your sister too much, just as I love Leo too much.” Dodge’s expression changed. He shot to his feet, a storm of emotions in his eyes—anger, and something else, something like loss. Olivia watched him, confused by his strong reaction. She waited for him to speak, but he just stood there, his lips moving, finally managing to force out the words, “Can we not mention him anymore?” 7 Olivia was stunned. “Why?” Dodge’s voice was low, strained. “Because I don’t like it.” She didn’t understand, but she didn’t ask. She just lowered her head and sighed. “Alright. For the next seven days, I won’t mention him.” Dodge frowned. “Why seven days?” “Because in seven days, our marriage will be over.” But her words were drowned out by Rosie, who burst into the room, pouting. “Brother, you’ve coddled her enough. What about me? You punished me for another woman. I’m still hungry.” For once, Dodge sounded angry. “Stop it, Rosie.” Rosie’s eyes welled with tears. “You don’t love me anymore, do you? Fine, I’m leaving!” She ran out, her eyes red. Dodge watched her go, his brow furrowed in frustration. He turned to Olivia. “I’ll go check on her.” Olivia nodded. As she watched them leave, she heard a loud thud from outside. Her heart sank. She got out of bed and rushed out to see Rosie lying on the road, covered in blood. A car was stopped nearby, the driver getting out in a panic. Dodge was kneeling beside Rosie, his face a ghostly white. “Rosie, don’t scare me…” he stammered, then scooped her up and sped towards the hospital. Olivia stood frozen for a moment, then hailed a taxi and followed. Rosie was rushed into surgery. A short while later, a doctor came out, his expression grim. “She’s lost a lot of blood. We need to give her a transfusion, but the blood bank is low. What are we going to do?” Dodge immediately rolled up his sleeve. “Take mine. We have the same blood type.” A nurse led him away. They drew the maximum safe amount, 400cc, but it wasn’t enough. As the nurse was about to stop, Dodge grabbed her hand. “Keep going,” he rasped. “We can’t…” “I said, keep going!” The nurse looked at Olivia in desperation. “Ms. Thorne, please, talk some sense into him. Any more and his own health will be at risk.” Olivia didn’t know what to say. “Dodge, do you love her more than your own life?” His face was cold, his answer immediate. “Yes.” Olivia was silent for a moment, then turned to the nurse. “I can’t convince him. Do as he says.” The nurse, frantic but seeing she had no choice, continued to draw blood. After 1000cc, Dodge was as pale as a sheet, unable to stand. But he refused to leave the surgery waiting area. “I’ll wait here,” Olivia said, afraid he might collapse. “You go rest.” He shook his head, his red-rimmed eyes fixed on the operating room doors. “No. I have to be here.” Olivia said no more, just stood by his side. When the doctor finally came out and announced that Rosie was out of danger, Dodge’s body swayed, and he fainted. 8 Olivia had thought that if she could just get through the next few days, she would be free. But now, with both Dodge and Rosie in the hospital, she found herself caring for both of them. It was exhausting, made worse by Rosie’s constant demands. One moment she was complaining about the porridge and throwing it on Olivia’s hand, the next she was craving a dessert from a bakery across town in the middle of the night. Olivia knew Rosie was doing it on purpose, but with only a few days of their marriage left, she decided to endure it. Dodge, seeing her patience, felt a pang of guilt. “You’ve worked so hard these past few days. I’ll make it up to you. What do you want?” Olivia shook her head. “Nothing, thank you.” But Dodge seemed determined. Once he had recovered a little, he hired a nurse for Rosie and took Olivia out. He took her to an amusement park, a place they had never been in their five years of marriage. He bought her ice cream, rode the Ferris wheel with her, and even took pictures of her on the carousel. They went to a movie, had a candlelit dinner—all the things a normal couple would do. She wanted to tell him she didn’t like these things, that he didn’t have to do them, but seeing him so immersed in the moment, she kept silent. When they returned to the hospital, Rosie was waiting at the door, her face dark. “Did my brother take you on a date?” she demanded. Before Olivia could explain, Rosie’s voice rose hysterically. “Don’t think this means he’s falling for you! I’ll show you, Olivia, that in his heart, I will always come first! No one can compare to me, especially not you!” Olivia was about to say that she already knew this, but Rosie suddenly pressed a cloth to her face. The world went black. When she woke up, she was dangling from a rope over a cliff. The wind howled, and waves crashed against the rocks below. Her wrists were raw from the coarse rope. Next to her, Rosie was also hanging from a rope, a triumphant smile on her face. “I hired an actor to pretend to be a kidnapper. My brother will be here soon. Who do you think he’ll save?” Olivia’s voice was weary. “You.” Rosie scoffed. “At least you know your place.” Olivia didn’t know what to say. How could Dodge love someone like Rosie? Soon, Dodge arrived, his face pale with panic. He threw a suitcase of money at the “kidnapper’s” feet, but the man sneered. “I’m not here for money. You can only save one. Choose.” “I’ll save both!” Dodge cried. “Choose now, or they both die,” the man said, brandishing a knife. Dodge’s eyes darted between Olivia and Rosie, his face a mask of turmoil. As the man was about to cut the ropes, he finally made his choice. “Save Rosie!” He looked at Olivia, his voice strained. “She just had a car accident, her body is weak, I…” Olivia smiled, her voice calm. “It’s okay. Even if she hadn’t, you would have chosen her.” Dodge’s heart clenched, as if pierced by her words. Before he could speak, the man cut Olivia’s rope. She plunged into the icy sea below. “Olivia!” She woke up in the hospital again, her wrists bandaged, her face ashen. Dodge sat beside her, looking exhausted and guilty. “I’ve investigated. It was Rosie again. I promise, this will be the last time. I’ll make it up to you, Olivia. What do you want? And don’t say nothing.” Olivia looked at him, her eyes like still water. “Go be with Rosie. She must have been scared too.” Dodge’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s the compensation you want?” She nodded. “Yes. The more you’re with her, the less she’ll bother me.” Dodge’s throat felt tight. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll go see her, then I’ll come back.” He tucked the blanket around her and left. Olivia watched him go and shook her head. No need. Because today, I’m leaving for good. After Dodge left, Olivia ignored the nurse’s protests, pulled out her IV, and checked out of the hospital. Her flight was at eleven; she had two hours to tie up loose ends. She rushed to the courthouse and got her divorce certificate. Then she went back to the villa and left the certificate, the divorce agreement, and her wedding ring on the coffee table where he would see them. Finally, she picked up her packed luggage, left the key, and walked out of the villa. Standing at the gate, she took one last look at the house she had lived in for five years. “Goodbye, Dodge.” The five years were finally over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393301”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Just as the serial killer was about to slip through our fingers, I, the city’s lead forensic psychologist, was in a psychiatric ward, playing chess with an old man. My phone buzzed. It was Lily, the deceptively sweet new consultant, her voice a desperate plea. “Dr. Reed, you’re the only one who can build a psychological profile fast enough to predict his escape route! We need you back at the precinct, now! Before it’s too late!” I hung up and sent her a photo of my recent diagnosis: Delusional Disorder. My reply was simple: “Sorry. Doctor’s orders. I’m not going anywhere.” In my last life, I’d practically lived at the crime scenes, working myself to the bone until I finally cracked the killer’s pattern and pinpointed his escape route. But when the tactical team swarmed the location, he was already gone. Miles away, another victim was found. “Some lead consultant,” they’d sneered. “A fraud in a fancy suit.” “If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen! Her incompetence just cost a woman her life!” My world had shattered. I tried to defend myself, to show them my notes, my meticulous chain of logic, but the pages I presented were a chaotic, nonsensical mess. It wasn’t my work. Then my husband, Mark, stood before the review board and revealed my “history of mental illness.” They committed me. The family of the last victim believed I was the one to blame. One of them snuck into the hospital and strangled the life out of me in my bed. Even as my vision faded to black, I couldn’t understand it. I wasn’t sick. My profile of the killer hadn’t been wrong. I knew it. After my death, Lily took my place. The media hailed her as a brilliant prodigy, a “Goddess of the Mind.” Not long after, she and my husband, Mark, found love “forged in the crucible of justice,” as the tabloids put it. They became the power couple of law enforcement. Now, I’ve opened my eyes again, and I’m back. Back on the very day it all began. “Dr. Reed, your latest paper just got published in that prestigious international journal! You owe us all drinks tonight.” Lily’s familiar voice chirped from behind me. My body went rigid as I turned to face her. It was only the second day of my new life, and the whiplash was still severe. Oblivious to my state, Lily leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I heard the precinct is handing us the ‘Rainy Day Ripper’ case. This is the big one, Evie.” She smiled. “If you crack this, it’ll be your 689th solved homicide. You’ll shatter the all-time record.” I drew a sharp breath, but the words caught in my throat. Seeing my pale face, Lily pressed a thermos into my hands. “You’re so lucky to have a husband like Mark,” she said, her eyes shining with what I now knew was counterfeit envy. I unscrewed the lid. The thick, cloying scent of herbs and greasy chicken fat—Mark’s special “restorative broth” he insisted I drink to keep my strength up—assaulted my nostrils. The smell was so viscerally familiar that a cold shudder ran down my spine. In my last life, after Mark had me committed, the nurses would hold me down, forcing handfuls of chalky white pills into my mouth. I would never forget the bitter taste that seemed to seep into my very soul. Now, as I raised the thermos, the salty, greasy broth hit my tongue, and beneath it, I tasted it again—that same haunting, chemical bitterness. The soup was drugged. My mind flashed back. On that fateful day, I’d been too consumed by the case to eat. It was Lily who had opened this very thermos, smiling, watching me drink every last drop. A primal revulsion took over. I lurched forward, vomiting the mouthful of soup onto the floor. “Evie!” Lily cried, aghast. “Mark worked so hard on that for you! How could you just spit it out?” After I’d heaved the last of it, I slowly raised my head, my eyes locking onto hers. I had trained her, mentored her, treated her like a little sister. I’d bought her birthday gifts, celebrated her small victories, given her every piece of myself I could share. And this was how she repaid me. A viper I had warmed at my own hearth. It’s always the ones you least suspect, the ones you let inside your walls, who can deliver the fatal blow. Lily was one. And Mark… Mark was the other. My own husband, under the guise of caring for me, had been slowly poisoning my mind. He’d laid the groundwork for my downfall, so that when the time was right, he could be the first to declare me insane, citing a non-existent “family history” of mental illness. I looked at the girl tugging at my sleeve, feigning concern, and my heart filled with a cold, desolate grief. I finally knew the source of my “madness” from my past life. But that still didn’t explain the other piece of the puzzle. How had my profile of the killer been so wrong? My intuition, honed over hundreds of cases, screamed at me that there was more to it. Something I still wasn’t seeing. “Mark made me promise to watch you finish it,” Lily pouted, her big, innocent eyes pleading with me. Just then, the office door creaked open, and Professor Albright, my old mentor, peeked his head in. “Ah, Lily, what’s all the commotion?” His gaze fell to the thermos on my desk, and a strange, knowing look flickered in his eyes. “Mark is such a devoted husband. Always making sure his brilliant wife is taken care of.” I picked up the thermos. Meeting both Lily’s and the professor’s expectant stares, I poured the broth into three separate mugs. “I’d feel terrible drinking this all by myself,” I said with a thin smile. “Since you’re both here, you should try some of Mark’s handiwork.” I offered the mugs to them. Their faces froze. A wave of panic washed over them, so palpable it was almost visible. I watched them, my gaze unwavering, dissecting every twitch, every flicker of fear. Their hands trembled as they took the mugs. They’d lift them towards their lips, then hesitate, lowering them again. Lily was ghost-white, unable to even look at the soup. The truth was as clear as day. I let out a sigh and downed the remaining broth in my own mug in one go. “It’s gotten cold anyway. Too greasy,” I announced, forcing a grimace. “Let’s not bother. I’ll have Mark make a fresh batch for you all another time.” They practically fled the office, their footsteps echoing down the hall as they scrambled to get away. Once I was sure they were gone, I ran to the restroom and forced myself to throw up, rinsing my mouth until the bitter taste was gone. Professor Albright. In my last life, I’d suspected everyone but him—the fair, the just, the man who had shaped my entire career. But his face just now told me everything. He knew. He was a part of it. But why? The question echoed in the hollows of my mind. As I stood there, lost in thought, a text from Mark lit up my phone. “The Rainy Day Ripper case is yours. You HAVE to solve it. This is my shot at the Deputy Director position. Don’t screw it up.” A chill, colder than any winter frost, settled deep in my bones. It was him. For a promotion, he had pushed me to take the case, only to throw me to the wolves when the operation failed, branding me a lunatic. I thought of our life together, from college sweethearts to this… this venomous betrayal. A lump formed in my throat, and I fought back the tears that threatened to fall. My protégée. My mentor. My husband. They all wanted the same thing: to see me ruined, disgraced, and utterly destroyed. But how had they orchestrated it all? I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The sharp sting of pain forced me to focus, to replay every single detail of my last life. No matter how many times I went over it, I couldn’t find the flaw in my logic. I spread my old notes out on the desk, the key data points from the case laid bare. I ran the simulations again and again. I was certain. My profile had been perfect. As I stared blankly at the papers, Lily scurried back into my office, a sealed evidence file in her hand. “Everyone was fighting for this one, Dr. Reed,” she said, her voice bright and cheerful. “I made sure to grab it for you.” She placed the file on my desk like a prize. My phone chimed again. Another text from Mark. “Eve, I already told my parents about the promotion. You have to land this case. For us.” Lily stood before me, her eyes wide with anticipation, waiting for me to accept. I couldn’t meet her gaze. I turned away. “Lily, I’m not feeling well. I need to rest. We can talk about this later.” A flicker of annoyance crossed her face, but she masked it quickly with a flurry of feigned concern before finally leaving. The moment she was gone, I was out the door. I hailed a cab and headed straight for the best psychiatric hospital in the city. On the way, I sent a text to a trusted friend—a retired detective—with the key profile points on the suspect. His reply came back almost instantly, followed by a series of photos. There he was: the man I had identified, a disheveled figure in a dark rain slicker, lurking near the crime scenes late at night. It was him. This was the man who had not only murdered a dozen young women but had also become the final nail in my coffin. But how did he know my plan? Who would go so far as to leak operational details to a serial killer, just to destroy me? My mind raced, a maelstrom of confusion and dawning horror. As I glanced in the car’s rearview mirror, an idea sparked, so shocking and so perfect that it took my breath away. Could that be it? I had the driver pull over. My fingers flew across the screen as I typed out my new theory, a detailed breakdown of the conspiracy, and sent it to my friend. His reply was two simple words: On it. Just to be safe, I made one more call—to a private investigator I’d used before. I gave him three targets to tail: Lily, Mark, and Professor Albright.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393300”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart, Hannah, used my credit card to fund scholarships, building herself a reputation as a beautiful, kind-hearted heiress. So when the class fundraiser money went missing and turned up in my locker, my boyfriend, Max, looked at me with a heartbroken expression and said, “Vivian, just confess. I’ll wait for you.” I tried to explain, but no one believed me. The entire class pointed their fingers at me. I was sent to prison, framed for a crime I didn’t commit. On their way to present evidence that would clear my name, my parents died in a car crash. With me out of the way, Max seized control of my family’s company and announced his marriage to Hannah. I died in that prison cell, consumed by despair. When I open my eyes, I’m back on the day Hannah pays for the scholarships. … “The university is organizing a fundraiser for students on financial aid! Is anyone interested in donating?” The familiar words sent a jolt through my entire body. I stared at the professor on the podium, talking about the benefits of the program—extra credit, honors, a leg up on grad school applications—and I knew. I was back. The next second, Hannah shot to her feet. “Professor, I’ll donate fifty thousand dollars,” she announced, “to go towards living stipends for the scholarship students.” A collective gasp went through the lecture hall. “Fifty thousand? Hannah, are you serious?” Hannah lifted her chin, deliberately showing off the designer necklace gracing her neck. “It’s only fifty grand. Do I look like I’m joking?” The room erupted in applause. “Hannah, you’re literally a princess! So generous and kind,” gushed Laura, my roommate and Hannah’s biggest sycophant. “You’re always so down-to-earth, but when it really matters, you step up. Not like some people, who just parade around with their Chanel bags trying to show off.” She shot a pointed glare at the backpack sitting behind me. I only liked the bag because it was spacious. My family’s housekeeper used the same one for groceries. Compared to the exclusive, custom-made pieces in my closet, this one was laughably plain. In my last life, I had been the anonymous donor who had sponsored Hannah through a private fund my father set up. I’d even given her a supplementary card linked to my account. At first, the charges were small—a few hundred here, a few thousand there. I didn’t think much of it. So when she announced she was donating $50,000, I was a little annoyed, but I didn’t say anything. After all, my family donated millions to charity every year. Because of that one act, Hannah became the campus’s philanthropic angel, while I was branded a vain, materialistic snob. Then, the class fundraiser money vanished. It was Hannah who led a search party to my locker, where they “found” it. And it was Max who stood before everyone and sealed my fate. “Vivian, go to the police. I’ll wait for you.” I was ostracized, expelled, and thrown in jail. The university gave my guaranteed spot in the graduate program to Hannah. When my parents died trying to save me, I just… gave up. After my death, I watched as Max used illegal means to take over my family’s corporation and proposed to Hannah with a fleet of nine hundred helicopters. They became the internet’s most adored power couple, their happiness built on the blood of my family. Rage, hot and sharp, coiled in my gut, and I clenched my fists until my knuckles were white. Basking in the praise, Hannah gave a modest wave. “Oh, it’s not that big of a deal. I just want to do my part to help others.” Then, her eyes landed on my bag, her gaze loaded with meaning. “Vivian, that bag looks… familiar. I know it’s normal for women to want nice things, but please, don’t let your vanity ruin your life.” I ignored her and looked directly at the professor. “Professor, I’ll also donate fifty thousand dollars.” He glanced at me, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Are you sure, Vivian? Once your name is down, the pledge is binding. If you can’t follow through, you’ll lose all academic honors, your club positions, and your grad school recommendation. You need to think this through. Don’t make a reckless decision you’ll regret.” Hannah grabbed my arm, her face a mask of frantic concern. “Vivian, if you’re only doing this to compete with me, then I won’t donate! I can’t bear to watch you destroy your future because of me. I’d never forgive myself.” Hearing this, the scholarship students in the class panicked and turned on me. “Vivian, you are so unbelievably selfish! Are you really going to take away our funding just to satisfy your own ego?” “Do you have any idea how hard we’ve worked to get here? We skip meals just to save money! This donation was our one chance at a normal life, and you’re going to ruin it with your stupid bluff? You’re a monster!” “Keep your vanity to yourself! Why do you have to drag us down with you? People like you are a disgrace to this university! Get out!” One of the more hot-headed students lunged at me, grabbing my arm and yanking me out of my seat. I stumbled and fell hard on the floor. As more students started to surge forward, the professor finally intervened, shouting threats of expulsion to get the situation under control. He turned to me, his expression laced with disappointment. “Vivian, charity is a wonderful thing, but you must act within your means. For your own good, it’s best you sit this one out.” My jaw tightened. “Professor,” I said, my voice cold, “I don’t believe you have the right to make that decision for me.” Hannah immediately jumped in. “Professor, please don’t be hard on Vivian. It’s fine, I just won’t participate.” Her words were perfectly crafted to sound as if I were bullying her into withdrawing her offer. I was speechless. The students who had just been restrained exploded again. “Just get out of here, Vivian! Stop putting on a show! You think you have that kind of money?” “Yeah, we don’t want your donation anyway! We don’t need your pity money!” “Pah! I wouldn’t take a cent from you! We’d rather starve!” “Professor, we all formally request that Vivian be barred from donating!” The professor’s gaze was hard as steel. “Vivian, you need to respect the wishes of your peers. Don’t be so selfish.” I let out a bitter laugh and swept my eyes over the crowd. “Fine. I won’t donate. But remember—you’re the ones who told me not to.” The scholarship students immediately turned to Hannah, their faces alight with hope. “Hannah, Vivian has backed down. No one is pressuring you now. Is your offer of fifty thousand still on the table?” Hannah shot me a triumphant, challenging look. “Of course it is.” The professor moved to her side, his voice gentle. “Hannah, if you’re certain, just sign this pledge form. The funds need to be transferred to the university’s account within three days.” Hannah picked up the pen and, without a moment’s hesitation, signed her name with a flourish. After class, I was heading back to my dorm when I saw Max and Hannah standing near the entrance. He was laughing, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. The moment he saw me, his face went cold. “Vivian, I heard you made a scene in class today, trying to one-up someone by pledging fifty grand. When did you become so desperate for attention?” Seeing my expression darken, he softened his tone. “Look, I’m just saying this for your own good. My family is comfortable, but fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money. Were you planning on draining your parents’ savings account just to satisfy your ego? You should be grateful Hannah was there to stop you before you made a huge mistake. You need to thank her properly. She saw a necklace she really likes… it’s only about three grand. You should get it for her.” I stared at him, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “Max, if you don’t have a mirror, I suggest you find a puddle. You want me to spend my money on a gift for your little childhood friend? Your ego is bigger than your brain.” Max froze, clearly stunned. The old Vivian would have done anything to please him. Three grand was nothing if it kept him happy. Not anymore. I’d rather give my money to a homeless person on the street than spare him another dime. His face turned thunderous. “Vivian, do you have any idea what you’re saying?” I widened my eyes, feigning innocence. “Oh, was I not speaking English? Do you need a translator?” His face flushed with rage. Hannah stepped forward, her voice trembling with manufactured hurt. “Vivian, I know you don’t like me. I’ll stay away from you and Max from now on. Please don’t be angry with him because of me.” Max’s glare was icy. “Stop being so jealous, Vivian. I’ve told you, Hannah is like a sister to me. You spend thousands on a single bag. What’s the big deal about buying her one piece of jewelry? She’s going to be your sister-in-law one day.” I stared at Hannah for a long moment. “Is her mouth lined with gold? A few words from her are worth three thousand dollars? Is she worth it?” Hannah’s eyes immediately filled with tears. Max’s face contorted with fury. “That’s it, Vivian, you’ve gone too far! Hannah saved you fifty thousand dollars! Buying her a thank-you gift is the least you can do! If you won’t do it, then we’re through!” A genuine smile spread across my face. “Great! We’re done. See you never.” I turned and sprinted back to my dorm, faintly hearing him screaming behind me, yelling that I would regret this. The first thing I did when I got to my room was freeze the supplementary card. Let’s see where you get fifty thousand dollars from now, Hannah.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393299”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day Leo brought his childhood sweetheart to our home to ask for a divorce, I had just returned from the hospital. The pregnancy report in my purse read, Fetus developing normally. “If she hadn’t tried to save me, Liesl never would have been assaulted by those thugs, never would have gotten pregnant,” he said, his voice heavy with a sense of noble sacrifice. “I have to give her my name. It’s the only way she can move on.” He looked at me, his eyes pleading for understanding. “As soon as Liesl and the baby are settled, I’ll remarry you.” He didn’t know. The thugs, the assault… Liesl had orchestrated the entire thing. I glanced at Liesl’s swelling belly and nodded. “Okay.” Then I went and got an abortion, and I never saw him again. 1. Marrying Leo had always been a step up for me. His father was an executive at Atherton Engineering, the company that was the lifeblood of our town. Leo had followed in his footsteps, becoming one of their top engineers. I was just an orphan. To close the distance between us, I studied relentlessly until I earned a place at the same university. But even then, I ended up in a low-level admin job at the plant, barely even crossing his path. I still remember those early days, how I’d turn beet red and speechless whenever I saw him in the company cafeteria. It was always him who spoke first. “Stella, right? I remember you.” My crush on Leo was an open secret at the plant. He knew it, too. From the day he’d first shown me kindness, there had been no one else for me. When I was ten, my parents died in an accident. It was Leo who found me crying by the side of the road, who comforted me. He introduced me to the couple who would become my adoptive parents, a warm, loving pair who had wanted a child for years. He gave me a home. Three years ago, I was offered a spot in a specialized technical fellowship, a chance to move to another city and build a real career. The opportunity was huge, but it meant leaving, maybe for good. I finally worked up the courage to tell Leo how I felt. The confession hung in the air between us, but the awkwardness I’d feared never came. “Don’t go,” he said simply. “Let’s get married.” With those five words, he brought an end to a decade of my own quiet turmoil. I gave up the fellowship and dedicated myself to taking care of him and our home. His father often reminded me of my place. “You’re lucky to have married into our family,” he’d say. “Leo was supposed to marry the CEO’s daughter.” His words only added to the pressure. I threw myself into being the perfect wife, terrified of making the smallest mistake, of disappointing his father, of making Leo regret choosing me. In three years of marriage, I thought I had done everything right. I’d even cared for my adoptive parents through their final illnesses, burying them with the love and dignity they deserved. My only failing was that Leo and I were still childless. Today was our third anniversary. It was also the day I found out I was two months pregnant. The pure, unadulterated joy of knowing we were finally starting our family was impossible to hide. I carefully tucked the report away and splurged on two pounds of prime steak. But I never got the chance to celebrate. He came home with Liesl. “Stella, we need to get a divorce, just for a while.” He laid it all out. Five months ago, on a work trip to a remote site, he’d been cornered by muggers. Liesl had appeared out of nowhere, creating a diversion that drew them away, saving him. “If she hadn’t done that for me,” he explained, his voice strained, “she wouldn’t have been… assaulted. By the time she realized she was pregnant, it was too late to do anything about it. I have to marry her, give the child a name. Her reputation would be ruined otherwise.” In a small company town like ours, an unwed pregnancy was a scandal, especially for the daughter of a prominent family like Liesl’s. If the truth came out, the gossip would be merciless. And they had grown up together. Childhood sweethearts, a perfect match. Leo was a good, responsible man. It was a tragic love story, and he was playing the hero. I looked at the perfect couple standing before me and replied calmly, “Okay.” 2. My reaction seemed to throw him. His eyes were a mixture of confusion and surprise. “You… you agree to the divorce?” I nodded. “Yes.” “I thought you would fight for me.” I managed a small, tired smile. “What would be the point? You’d already made your decision before you even walked in that door, hadn’t you?” He flinched. “Did you want me to scream and cry? No. I wish you both the best.” Hearing that, Leo seemed to let out a breath he’d been holding. Liesl murmured from the side, “Stella, it’s just a temporary marriage. Please don’t hate us. As soon as the baby is born, I’ll give him back to you.” Leo saw her shivering and immediately shrugged off his coat, draping it over her shoulders. Then he came to my side, his large, warm hand settling on my shoulder. “Stella,” he whispered, his voice close to my ear. “You don’t have to move out. Just take care of yourself. Liesl’s right, this is just for show. Don’t overthink it. Just wait for me to come back.” Once, being held by him felt like holding the entire world. Now, the heat from his palm felt like ice. I took half a step back, slipping out of his embrace. “When do we sign the papers?” “They’re already drawn up. You just need to sign.” I laughed, a hollow sound. He wasn’t here to discuss it; he was here to inform me. I signed my name quickly. He snatched the paper and tucked it into his breast pocket with a swift, careful motion, more precious to him than my pregnancy report had ever been to me. Liesl’s voice cut through the silence. “Leo, my mom’s waiting for us with dinner. Can we hurry up?” Without another glance at me, he rushed to her side. “Right. Let’s go.” I watched them leave, her hands already linked through his arm, holding on tight. If he had cared, even a little, he would have noticed the expensive steak I was still holding. He would have asked what we were celebrating. I would have told him I was carrying his child. But he didn’t care about me. And maybe he wouldn’t have cared about our baby either. Perhaps I had lost the moment Liesl came back to town. Three years ago, I thought my devotion had finally won him over, that he had finally noticed the girl who had adored him from the shadows. The truth was, he had proposed to Liesl first, and she had turned him down. She’d been angling for that fellowship, pulling strings to get the position. But the program supervisors in the other city cared about talent, not connections. I was the other top candidate. By marrying me, Leo ensured I would give up my spot. That was why he’d insisted I quit my job, saying he didn’t want me to struggle in the workplace, that it was too tiring. He broke my wings so his true love could fly. I remember the day Liesl was transferred back to Atherton. Leo spent the whole night in his study, reading a romantic novel, the kind he never touched. It must have been one of her favorites. I cooked the steak for myself, eating what I could. I stored the rest away. I’d need it to recover after the abortion. I was getting ready for bed when the phone rang. It was Leo’s father, summoning me to the main house. I figured Leo had already told him about the divorce. When I arrived, Leo was kneeling in the center of the living room, a fresh bruise blooming on his cheek. Liesl was crouched beside him, sobbing. His father sat on the sofa, his face a mask of thunderous rage, muttering about the disgrace of it all. I knew that while he’d never been fond of me, in his world, divorce was a serious, shameful affair. Especially a divorce in the morning followed by a new marriage in the afternoon. When he saw me, his expression softened slightly. “You’re here. Come into my study.” 3. Leo’s father, for all his bluster, would always side with his son. “Stella, I know Leo was unfaithful, but you bear some of the responsibility,” he began, his tone severe. “Married all this time and not a single child. The Atherton line can’t end with him.” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. It was clear he had no idea the child wasn’t Leo’s. To protect Liesl’s reputation, Leo had shouldered all the blame. What good would it do to tell him now that I was carrying his grandchild? I gave a bitter smile. “It’s all right, sir. I have no complaints. Please don’t be too hard on him.” “That boy… to do something like this, it’s a disgrace to the family. I used to be fond of Liesl, but he’s married to you now! How could he…” He sighed, his anger deflating. “Still, you married into this family, so you’re one of us. Even though you’re divorced now, if you need anything, you can come to me. I’ll arrange a better job for you at the plant.” My heart was a tangle of emotions. In his own way, he was trying to be fair. I forced a smile. “Thank you, sir. But I’ll be fine. As for work, I’d like to rely on myself.” He nodded. “Alright. You should head home. But if you run into any trouble, you know where to find me. In the end, it’s our family that has wronged you.” As I left their house, snow had begun to fall. “Stella!” Leo called out from where he still knelt. “The roads are slick. Let me walk you home.” But just then, Liesl clutched her stomach and cried out in pain. Leo looked at me, his face a canvas of guilt. “I’m sorry, Stella. I have to get Liesl to the hospital. Please be careful on your way home.” “Okay.” I was used to it. Liesl’s needs always came first. Besides, we had no connection anymore. That night, I stayed up late, digging out my old textbooks and study materials. The dreams and the career I had given up—I was going to reclaim them. I also scheduled an appointment for an abortion for the following day. Three years. The memories were a constant, piercing pain. I had wondered, of course, what would happen if Liesl ever decided she wanted him back. But I’d always dismissed it as needless worry. We were married. Marriage was supposed to be unbreakable. Reality had slapped me hard in the face. The procedure went smoothly, but it hurt more than I ever could have imagined. Lying on that cold operating table, I bit back every sound, but silent tears streamed down my face, pooling in my ears, cold and ticklish. By the time it was over, I was drenched in sweat, a bloody crescent moon dug into my palm where I’d clenched my fist. I clung to the wall, trembling, as I stumbled out of the operating room. And ran straight into Leo and Liesl. He was holding her arm gently as she beamed, holding up an ultrasound picture. “Look,” I heard her say. “You can see the baby’s foot. Isn’t it cute?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393298”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To force me to break off our engagement, my fiancé drove my father’s company into bankruptcy, saddling us with millions in debt. The shock triggered a heart attack, and my father was rushed into intensive care. As I knelt and begged my fiancé for the money to cover the surgery, my childhood friend, Julian, suddenly returned from abroad. He arranged for the best doctors and stayed by my side, day and night, as we kept vigil at my father’s bedside. A week later, my father had another, fatal heart attack. To give my father peace in his final moments, Julian knelt before him and swore he would marry me and take care of me for the rest of his life. After the funeral, my heart a hollowed-out shell, I broke off my engagement. And I married Julian. Five years later, I overheard a conversation between him and my ex-fiancé. “You have to admit, your plan was genius. You got that clingy psycho Simone to give up on me, willingly. But tell me, do you think she’d want to kill you if she knew you were the one who really destroyed her father?” … My hand froze on the handle of the private dining room door. Inside, my ex-fiancé’s mocking voice continued. “You’re a cold bastard, you know that? Simone grew up with you, treated you like a brother. I bet she’d never guess in a million years that you were the one who orchestrated her father’s ruin.” Alex chuckled. “If it wasn’t for Eliza, I never would have taken the fall for you all these years. I may have hated Simone, but I’d never go so far as to drive her old man to his grave.” The sound of a glass slamming onto a table. Julian’s voice, thick with alcohol and fury. “What I did to Simone… I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her. I only helped you back then because I wanted Eliza to be happy. If you ever make her shed a single tear, I’ll end you.” Alex tutted. “Such devotion. A shame I met her first. You’d better focus on protecting your precious Simone. After all, you killed her father. I’d watch your back at night if I were you.” Crash! A glass shattered against the door. Footsteps approached. I took a sharp breath and fled, my heart hammering against my ribs. I ran down to the bar, grabbed the first drink I saw, and threw it back. The burn of the whiskey was a fire in my throat, and I choked, tears stinging my eyes. The words I’d overheard echoed in my mind, a torturous loop. The man who had ruined my father wasn’t my ex-fiancé. It was Julian, the man who had paid for his surgery. The sudden heart attack a week later… it must have been because of something Julian had said. No wonder my father had stared so intently at Julian as he took his last breath. At the time, I’d thought it was a look of gratitude, of entrusting me to his care. My husband of five years, the man who held me in his arms every night, who treated me like the most precious thing in his world… was the man who had indirectly killed my father. And our marriage, our life together, all his carefully constructed affection… was nothing more than compensation. A payment on a debt of guilt. The absurdity of it was a bitter pill to swallow. Grief and rage churned in my stomach like a violent storm. Just as my gaze fell on the empty glass in my hand, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. Julian buried his face in my neck, his voice a warm, drunken murmur. “Simone… where have you been? I missed you… Let’s go home. I love you, Simone… I love you so, so much…” For years, whenever he was drunk, he would whisper these same words. His friends always said it was the truth coming out, that he was utterly devoted to me. Now, it was all a grotesque joke. I gently disentangled myself and helped him into the car, my movements numb and robotic. He collapsed onto my lap, his brow smoothing as his breathing evened out. He seemed to be asleep. “Eliza… Eliza… why didn’t you choose me? Why…” This time, I heard it clearly. The name that had haunted his dreams for years. Eliza. My ex-fiancé’s new wife. Julian’s one true love. He had never forgotten her. He had married me, played the part of a loving husband, all for her. I had underestimated the depth of his devotion. A phone slipped from his pocket and clattered onto the floor mat. I bent to pick it up, and the screen lit up with a new message. From Eliza. Julian, thank you for covering for me tonight. But I can’t accept the necklace. It’s far too valuable. A second later, I saw her new social media post. “Love is priceless.” The accompanying photo was of a stunning diamond necklace—the very one that had made headlines last week when a mysterious billionaire paid a hundred million for it at auction. A one-of-a-kind piece. I knew the post was meant for me. Just last week, Julian had collapsed from overwork and a bleeding ulcer. Yet the moment he was discharged, he’d flown to London. I had been sick with worry, furious that he was sacrificing his health for his work. Now I knew. He had gone to an auction. He had endured excruciating pain to buy the most expensive necklace in the world and lay it at the feet of his true love. My fingers moved on their own, typing in the lock screen password. The final digit. The phone unlocked. The password was Eliza’s birthday. Julian never let me touch his phone, always talking about the importance of personal space. The moment the screen unlocked, Eliza’s radiant smile filled the display. His wallpaper. No wonder his expression always softened when he looked at his phone. I opened his photo gallery. It was a shrine. [Eliza, age 10], [Eliza, age 11]… [Eliza, age 25]. Thousands of photos, documenting every stage of her life. There wasn’t a single picture of me. Not even of himself. Only Eliza. Just like his heart. From beginning to end, there was only ever Eliza. I opened his notes app. It was a diary. October 12, 20XX. Sunny. Eliza scraped her knee on a tree branch today. It’s my fault. I never should have planted those trees in the yard. June 5, 20XX. Sunny. Eliza got married today. As long as she’s happy, everything I do is worth it. I live to make her happy. September 19, 20XX. Rain. I got married today. When I saw Eliza in the audience, I wished so desperately that she was the one standing beside me. The car pulled into our driveway. I looked out at the bare, empty yard and a chill went through me, so deep it felt like it was freezing my bones. There used to be two peach trees in that yard. My father had planted them for me on my tenth birthday, and Julian had transplanted them from my old family home. They were my connection to him, a reminder that he was still with me. One day, the trees, heavy with fruit, had suddenly withered and died. Their roots, the arborist said, had inexplicably rotted. Julian had held me for three days and nights as I cried. And now I knew. It was him. He had destroyed the last piece of my father he had left me. A new message popped up on his phone. It was from his assistant. [Mr. Thorne, as per your instructions, the final draft of your will is complete. All assets are to be left to Ms. Eliza Vance.] [It just needs your signature to be executed.] Through a blur of tears, I saw him again, standing at my father’s funeral, holding me, promising me the world. “Simone, I’ll give you a home. Everything I have will be yours.” I put Julian to bed, but for the first time, I didn’t take off his shoes or tuck him in. I went to the guest room and closed the door. When I woke, sunlight was streaming through the window. I opened my eyes to find Julian watching me, his gaze full of a practiced gentleness. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Were you angry with me last night, Simone? I’m sorry, I had too much to drink. I promise it won’t happen again.” His tenderness was a well-rehearsed charade. I pushed him away and went to the bathroom, scrubbing his kiss from my skin until it was raw. The breakfast table was laden with food. A year ago, this would have filled me with joy. But after reading his diary, I felt nothing but a hollow ache. It was a feast of all of Eliza’s favorite foods. The front door opened. Eliza, dressed in a pristine white dress, walked in as if she owned the place and sat down at the table. She smiled at me. “Sorry to intrude, Simone. Julian and I have a photoshoot this morning, so he invited me for breakfast.” I said nothing, my eyes fixed on the house key in her hand, identical to my own. Julian sensed the shift in my mood. He leaned in and whispered, “Eliza is our best friend, Simone. It’s normal for her to have a key.” His words trailed off. He shot up from his seat, his expression suddenly frantic, and snatched the glass of soy milk from Eliza’s hand. “Eliza, you can’t drink that! How many years has it been, and you still can’t remember?” She smiled, a coy, pleased little expression. “I know. It’s a good thing I’ve had you to look out for me all these years.” They stared at each other, lost in their own world, a perfect picture of two lovers. I had no interest in watching. I was about to leave when Eliza called out to me. “Simone, I remember you studied photography. Would you mind shooting for me today? I don’t really trust the new guy.” I hadn’t touched a camera since my father died. He was the one who taught me everything I knew. The weight of it in my hands was too heavy, a reminder of his frail, defeated form in his final days. I couldn’t bring myself to press the shutter. Julian knew this. He had locked all my camera equipment away, telling me not to force it, that he would help me heal. But now, he didn’t even wait for my reply. He ushered me into the back seat of the car. “Eliza gets carsick, Simone. You’ll have to sit in the back.” He had forgotten that my carsickness was worse. At the studio, he fussed over Eliza, carefully arranging the train of her gown. I leaned against the car, gasping for fresh air, my stomach churning. “The shoot is about to start, Simone,” Julian said, his voice impatient as he pulled me inside. “Don’t be difficult. This is important for Eliza, and for the company.” I stumbled, nearly falling. After five years, the camera felt alien in my hands, heavy with a suffocating dread. My hands trembled as I raised it to my eye. During a break, Eliza and I were alone in the studio. She flipped through the photos on the camera’s screen, a sneer on her lips. “You’re just as useless as your father, Simone. Can’t do anything right.” She looked me up and down. “Like father, like daughter.” My nails dug into my palms. A hot rage began to build inside me. Slap! The sting on my cheek was sharp and immediate. Eliza shook her hand, looking down at me with contempt. “You’re pathetic, Simone. I can’t believe after Alex dumped you, you immediately latched onto Julian. You don’t deserve him. Not Alex, not Julian. They’re both mine.” Her voice dropped to a vicious whisper. “You’re not worthy.” My head was still turned from the force of the blow. Before I could react, she grabbed my hand, slapped herself across the face with it, and then collapsed to the floor in a heap. She clutched her cheek, her eyes welling with tears, a perfect, fragile victim. “Simone, I didn’t say the photos were bad,” she sobbed. “I just wanted you to try a different angle. If you didn’t want to, you could have just said so…” The door opened. Julian stood there, a water bottle dropping from his hand and clattering on the floor. He rushed past me and knelt beside Eliza, his face a mask of frantic concern. “Julian, I’m fine,” she whimpered. “Please don’t blame Simone. She didn’t mean it. It was my fault, I lost my balance.” “You’re too kind, Eliza! You don’t have to cover for her. I saw everything!” He gently helped her to her feet, treating her as if she were made of porcelain. He wrapped his arm around her, then turned to me, his face contorted with a rage I had never seen before in our five years of marriage. “Apologize to Eliza, Simone! I have spoiled you rotten these past five years! I’ve turned you into a monster!” His voice was thunderous. “You know how important her face is to her career!” He glared at me, his eyes completely blind to the red, swelling handprint on my own cheek. I lifted my head, my gaze meeting his, my voice eerily calm. “The one who should be apologizing is Eliza. She brought up my father. Speaking of which, Julian, is there anything you’d like to apologize for regarding what happened to my father?” A flicker of shock crossed his eyes. “If it wasn’t for me back then, your father would have died even sooner. Simone, I promised him I would take care of you, but that was on the condition that you would never, ever hurt Eliza.” A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped my lips. I shouldn’t have expected anything. The world went black, and I fell.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393297”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Kaspa Astor got a girl pregnant after a night of drunken recklessness. By the time I found out, she was already six months along. He told me, “If we keep the child, we can go back to how things were. We can be happy again.” I just shook my head, my voice unwavering as I asked the question that had been haunting me. “Her and the baby, or me? Choose.” That day, he was silent for a long, long time. He couldn’t give me an answer. But after I disappeared, he was consumed by regret. 1 We had been married for five years. Five years with Kaspa, and I never once imagined it would end like this. I was standing outside the hospital when I saw him, carefully guiding a young, beautiful woman down the steps. I was just far enough away that when he looked up, his face a mask of tender concern, our eyes met. He flinched, his gaze immediately darting away, a portrait of guilt. The pregnant woman beside him looked over at me too, her eyes instantly welling with tears. After settling her safely in the car and whispering a few careful instructions, Kaspa finally walked towards me. His steps were calm, measured, all traces of the panic he’d felt upon being discovered now erased. He reached for my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine, which were cold as ice. “Why are you at the hospital? Are you not feeling well?” he asked, his voice laced with feigned concern as he reached up to touch my forehead. I recoiled from his touch. “Who is she?” He didn’t answer, pulling me into an embrace instead, trying to soothe me with his presence. “She’s no one important. We can talk about this at home, okay? I’ll explain everything.” His soft, gentle words were the final crack in my composure. A tear slid down my cheek. I defiantly tilted my head up, demanding the truth. As long as he told me, I would believe him. Anything. Kaspa sighed, a soft, resigned sound, and gently wiped the tear from the corner of my eye. “The baby is mine.” The words froze the tears on my face. It felt like I’d forgotten how to breathe. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, wrenching myself from his arms and stumbling backwards. For the first time, a flicker of anger crossed his face. He closed the distance between us again, pulling me close, his expression shifting to one of pained concern. “Nora, you can blame me. You can hate me. But you can’t torture yourself like this.” I didn’t understand. How could he do something so monstrous and still stand here, pretending to love me? As we stood locked in our silent standoff, the girl got out of the car. “Get back in the car!” Kaspa snapped, his voice sharp and devoid of any warmth. She looked at him timidly but didn’t move, a new firmness in her eyes. “Ms. Vance,” she said, her voice soft but clear, “It’s not what you think between Mr. Astor and me. The baby… it was an accident.” She gave a bitter smile. “If I had a choice, I would want this baby less than anyone.” My vision blurred. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I knew him. I could feel the coldness in his demeanor thawing at her words. “That’s enough! Stop talking!” I shrieked, the jealousy and resentment boiling over inside me. The girl flinched, staggering as if she was about to fall. In a flash, Kaspa lunged forward and caught her, pulling her securely into his arms. I stared at the scene, frozen. A single, wild thought sparked in my mind. I lunged towards them. Just as my hand was about to connect with her swollen belly, a powerful force shoved me away. I landed hard on the pavement. I looked down at my scraped palm, a desolate, humorless laugh escaping my lips. Kaspa stared at his outstretched hand, the one that had just pushed me, completely stunned. That day, Kaspa Astor left the woman who was six months pregnant with his child and took me home. But I knew. For him and me, there was no future left. 2 Back home, Kaspa gave me his explanation. I sat on our bed, silent and still for a long time. He stood on the balcony of our bedroom and smoked for the entire night, one cigarette after another. I knew what he was doing. It was a performance of self-punishment, a ritual designed to make my heart ache for him. When it came to me, he always knew how to find my weaknesses. As the first light of dawn broke the darkness, Kaspa finally came back inside, walking over to me. “You must be hungry. What do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you.” My voice was a raw whisper when I stopped him. “Kaspa. We need to talk.” He froze, his back to me. He stood there for a long moment before turning around. He knew my character; this was something I couldn’t just let go. I could never, ever forgive this. Even if he was drunk. Even if it was an unintentional moment of contact with a stranger. It didn’t matter. That’s why he had hidden it from me. But neither of us could have predicted that the girl, a complete stranger to him, would get pregnant. And due to a rare medical condition, she couldn’t terminate the pregnancy. Which led us to this. Kaspa left the room. He couldn’t face what he knew I was about to say. I know he loved me. If he didn’t, we wouldn’t have been together for so many years. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have spoiled me to the point where I was a woman who could throw a tantrum or burst into tears at the slightest provocation, always knowing he’d be there to comfort me. For the next week, Kaspa didn’t come home. But he still called the housekeeper every day, asking after every little detail of my life. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, tried to reason with me. “Ma’am, you and Mr. Astor are the most devoted couple I’ve ever seen. Whatever it is, you should just talk it out. He’s… he’s lost so much weight recently.” She’d been with us for years. She had never seen Kaspa and me argue, not even once. Even his mother, who had disapproved of me in the early years, had gradually come to accept me as her daughter-in-law after seeing how happy we were together. My phone rang. It was one of Kaspa’s friends. “Nora, Kaspa’s really drunk. Can you come pick him up?” “Let him rot there,” I snapped, hanging up. But the anger didn’t fade; it just curdled into a tight knot in my chest. The image of Kaspa’s retreating back, his shoulders slumped in defeat, flashed in my mind. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him there alone. After a moment of internal struggle, I grabbed my car keys and walked out the door. 3 The door to the private room was ajar. I stood outside, hidden in the shadows of the hallway. Kaspa was indeed drunk, sprawled gracelessly across the sofa. And standing before him was the pregnant girl. Kaspa’s friend looked embarrassed. “Sarah, I’m sorry. Nora won’t come, and Kaspa refuses to leave, so I had no choice but to call you.” The girl, Sarah, smiled faintly and tried to help Kaspa up by his arm. He shoved her away without warning. A few gasps of surprise seemed to shock Kaspa out of his drunken stupor. He looked at the woman in front of him, his face twisting into a smile that was more painful than a grimace. “Sarah Vance… it’s all because of you. Nora’s leaving me…” he repeated, his voice slurring as he started looking for another drink. No one could stop him. He grabbed a bottle and began chugging it down as if he were trying to drown himself. Suddenly, Sarah snatched the bottle from his hand and smashed it on the floor. The room fell silent. Even Kaspa, who had been in a drunken rage moments before, just stared at her, stunned. “Kaspa Astor, your drunken shouting is going to scare our child,” she said, her voice firm. “Get up. I’m tired. Take me home.” Kaspa Astor, a man who commanded respect and fear throughout the city, had never been ordered around like that by anyone except me. Everyone held their breath, expecting an explosion. But in the tense silence, Kaspa said nothing. He slowly got to his feet, picked up his jacket, and silently followed Sarah out of the room. I shrank back into the corner, watching the two of them walk away together. A laugh escaped my lips. A bitter, broken sound. I followed their taxi to a high-end apartment complex, watching as Kaspa got out and went upstairs with her. A light flicked on in a window high above. I sat in my car all night, watching that window. Kaspa never came out. At seven in the morning, he reappeared, walked to a nearby café, and went back inside the building carrying a bag of breakfast. I watched that painfully familiar back. Then, alone, I quietly drove away. 4 I called Kaspa and told him to come home, but I didn’t mention a divorce. I looked at him, noting how much thinner he’d become in just a week, then quickly averted my eyes. “I didn’t pick you up last night. Where did you stay?” Kaspa’s fingers twitched. After a moment, he said, “I stayed at the office.” I couldn’t quite name the feeling in my chest. There was a dull ache, but more than that, there was disappointment. When had Kaspa Astor learned to lie to me? The man who once promised a lifetime of honesty had changed. I didn’t expose his lie. It didn’t matter anymore. “How far along… is she?” His voice faltered for a second, as if he couldn’t bear to hurt me further. “Almost seven months.” Then, he dropped to one knee before me, burying his face in my lap. His tears soaked through the fabric of my skirt. “Nora, I was wrong. Please… please don’t leave me.” In all the years I’d known him, I had never seen Kaspa cry. Now, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Seeing him like this, my own heart ached. But I knew, in this moment, I couldn’t afford to be weak. “Arrange a meeting for me. With her.” We met at Sarah’s apartment. Kaspa waited for me outside the door. Sarah gently cradled her belly, her eyes filled with a radiant expectation for her child. “That night,” she began, her voice soft, “the room was dark. I was so, so scared. But the next morning, when I saw Mr. Astor lying next to me… for a second, I actually felt… lucky.” She smiled as she spoke, looking up at me with that same gentle, beautiful expression. “Ms. Vance, my baby with Kaspa is almost here. Why don’t you just… let us be happy together?” Without Kaspa present, she was like a completely different person. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. The night I went to find Kaspa at the bar, I’d caught her glancing towards the door, right where I was standing. She knew I was there. She slowly stood up and pushed open a closed door, revealing a warm, perfectly decorated nursery. “Kaspa picked out everything in here himself. He set up the whole room. He’s not without his hopes for this child.” I wanted to maintain my last shred of composure in front of this woman who was flaunting Kaspa’s paternal affection, but her words ignited a firestorm of rage within me. So, he was looking forward to this child. He wasn’t indifferent after all. My strength seemed to drain from my body. I braced myself with one hand on the dining table, knocking over a glass of water. It shattered on the floor with a sharp crack that echoed the fractures splintering through my heart. Kaspa heard the noise and burst in. The first thing he saw was me, swaying on my feet, and Sarah, lying on the floor, crying out in pain.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393296”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was gravely ill. My son, Harper, and his wife, Kate, used their entire savings to pay for my treatment, caring for me with every ounce of their being. After I recovered, I signed over all my property to my daughter. To my surprise, my daughter-in-law was not pleased. I told her, “While I was sick, my daughter called to check on me every other day. She’s so devoted. What’s wrong with me giving her the house?” My son and his wife questioned me, their voices shaking with anger. “We cared for you day and night, spent tens of thousands of dollars on your treatment, and that doesn’t even compare to a few phone calls?” My answer was unhesitating. “Of course not.” … My son’s face turned ashen with rage, and my daughter-in-law burst into tears. “We sold our new home—the one we just bought—to pay for your treatment! If you give the house to Ramona, where are Harper and I supposed to live?” Harper stared at me, shocked. “Mom! When you were in the hospital, it was Kate and I who cleaned you, who dealt with your bedpan! Ramona just made a few phone calls! She never even came to see you!” His disappointment was raw and undisguised. “Kate quit her job to take care of you! How can you do something so unfair?” Kate collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. “If I had known what a horribly unreasonable person you were, I would have never married into this family! You’re a twisted old hag who favors her daughter over her son! From now on, let your precious daughter take care of you! I’m done!” Kate had always been a gentle, kind girl. I’d never seen her this hysterical. Seeing his wife so upset, Harper tried to reason with me. “Mom! It’s my duty to care for you, I know that. But Kate isn’t your blood. By rights, my sister should have been the one doing all this. I called her so many times when you were sick, I begged her to come, but she wouldn’t! How can you still believe she’s the devoted one?” Kate glared at me. “When we were short on money for your surgery, Harper and I were so desperate we were talking about selling a kidney! And your daughter? Do you know where she was while you were in the hospital? She was on vacation in Thailand! The price of one of her new handbags could have saved your life!” “You’re Harper’s mother. It’s our duty to care for you, to get you treatment. We never expected anything in return. But you can’t just kick us out of our own home so you can give everything to your daughter!” she cried. “You can hate me, your daughter-in-law, that’s fine! But Harper is your own son! How can you be so cruel to your own flesh and blood?” Harper looked at me, his eyes full of despair. “Mom, I know you dote on Ramona, but you can’t push me to my death just to favor her!” I said coldly, “I dote on my daughter because she would never plot against me! Not like you two, putting on a show of caring for me in the hospital just to get your hands on my property!” Furious, Kate stormed out and went back to her mother’s house. Harper, seething with anger, refused to speak to me. A few days later, my daughter, Ramona, returned from her vacation in Thailand. She even brought me a large Thai mango. My son exploded. “Ramona, don’t you know Mom is allergic to mangoes? She just had surgery! Are you trying to kill her?” I slapped him across the face. “Who said I’m allergic to mangoes? I think you just can’t stand to see your sister being good to me! You ungrateful brat! I’ve raised you all your life and you’ve never given me a single thing. If it weren’t for your sister, you would have worked me to death!” Harper clutched his cheek, his face a mask of disbelief. “Mom! Can you really only see your daughter? Can’t you see anything I’ve done for you? Have you forgotten who paid for your treatment, who stayed by your side day and night in the hospital?” He thought that would make me feel guilty. But what did I have to be guilty about? I took my daughter to have all the property deeds transferred to her name. I also gave her my pension card. I even packed up all the meat and nutritional supplements in the house into her car for her to take home. After seeing her off, I turned around and asked my son for money to buy groceries. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Mom, you gave the house, the money, and the steak and supplements I bought for you to Ramona, and now you’re asking me for grocery money?” His voice trembled. I could tell his anger had been building, and he was about to erupt. I said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Isn’t it a son’s duty to provide for his mother? Whoever heard of parents asking their daughter for grocery money? People would laugh their heads off!” Harper was completely stunned. Two lines of tears streamed down his face, and he looked utterly defeated. But he still gave me fifty dollars for groceries. I took the money, went to a restaurant, and treated myself to a nice meal. Then I bought a few plain bread rolls and went home. When I got back, Harper and Kate had a pot of congee simmering, waiting for vegetables to be added. Seeing the bread rolls in my hand, Kate was shocked. “Mom, didn’t Harper give you fifty dollars? Why did you only buy a few rolls? What are we supposed to eat?” I looked at her calmly. “I already ate out. A forty-eight-dollar steak dinner. The remaining two dollars was only enough for these.” Kate threw down the ladle in a fury. “How could you be so selfish? Don’t you know Harper and I were waiting for you to bring back food so we could cook? You could have at least bought a head of cabbage!” I retorted indignantly, “I’m a patient recovering from a serious illness, and you want me to eat cabbage? I see what this is. You two ungrateful children just want to make my life miserable!” Harper started to scold me, but I glared at him and collapsed onto the floor, wailing. “Oh, my poor husband, you died too soon! You left me with this monster who won’t even let me eat! Why didn’t you just take me with you?” Seeing me like this, Harper, though still angry, didn’t dare say another word. That evening, he came back with a large bag of groceries. Kate was clearly furious with me, but she still placed the best piece of fish in front of me. “Eat up. Once you’re fully recovered, I’m never taking care of you again.” I slammed the plate on the floor. “You dare serve me a fish that costs a few dollars? Do you have any idea that the fish your sister buys for me costs hundreds? Being with you two has been nothing but suffering!” This time, tears of pure rage streamed down Harper’s face. “Mom! Ramona hasn’t cooked a single meal for you all year! The last time you ate fish she made was three years ago! How can you be so biased? If she fed you dynamite, you’d probably still think she was wonderful!” I slammed my hand on the table. “Ah, so your true colors are showing! I knew you had bad intentions! Now that you didn’t get the money and the house, you’re plotting to blow me up, aren’t you?” “Get out! Both of you ungrateful animals, get out of my house!” Harper stared at me, dumbfounded. “But… all our money went to your surgery. We don’t even have enough for a deposit on a rental! Where are we supposed to go?” I shot him a look of disgust. “Oh, so now you’re keeping score on the money you spent to save your mother’s life? You think it was a waste, don’t you? You probably wish you had just let me die!” “I don’t care where you go! Just get out and I hope I never see you again for the rest of my life!” Harper never imagined I could be so heartless. That night, he and Kate moved out. After they left, they had no money for food. He tried to borrow twenty dollars from me to buy rice, but I refused. My son, sobbing, started slapping his own face in despair. “I don’t have a mother as cruel as you! You don’t want to see me? Fine! I’ll go! I’ll go so far away you’ll never see me again!” Not long after, Kate called and cursed me out. It turned out she had been pregnant. But from the exhaustion of caring for me, compounded by the poor nutrition from eating nothing but bread rolls, she had a miscarriage. After that, our relationship deteriorated completely. I heard from a neighbor that Harper and Kate had gone abroad to work, trying to earn money to pay off their debts. In the blink of an eye, five years passed. Harper never came to see me. I never contacted him. But today, I had to send him a message. I was dying. He needed to come back for my funeral. 2 My funeral was a simple, pathetic affair. In the past few years, my daughter had developed a gambling addiction and lost all the property and my pension. She was so destitute she couldn’t even afford a coffin. A dirty sheet served as my shroud, my body laid out unceremoniously in the center of the hall. Despite the grim setting, the scene was lively. My son and daughter-in-law had made a fortune abroad and returned in glory, inviting all our relatives to my funeral. But they weren’t here to mourn me. They were here to expose my wicked deeds to the world. To that end, they had even hired a popular online streamer, known for covering emotional family dramas, to broadcast the event live. My son stood before my body, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I hear my mother died from a relapse of her old illness. I hear she was so poor she couldn’t even afford to go to the hospital, that she died in agony at home and her body was only discovered after it had started to rot and stink.” “That can’t be right,” he continued, a cruel smile on his face. “My mother had so many houses, so much money. She was so sure her daughter was the most devoted child in the world. What happened? Did her devoted daughter not take her to the doctor?” “I remember when Kate and I first got married. We scraped and borrowed from everyone we knew just to make the down payment on our apartment. When my mother got sick and needed surgery, we sold that apartment without a second thought to pay for her treatment!” “To take care of her, Kate even quit her job!” “My mother was bedridden, unable to move. It was Kate and I who cleaned her, who dealt with everything.” “And what did she do? The moment she was out of the hospital, she gave all her houses and money to my sister. Why? Because my sister was so ‘devoted’ she made a few phone calls!” “My mother would pack up all the food in the house for my sister, then turn around and demand money from me. I gave her the last fifty dollars I had. And what did she do with it? She treated herself to a steak dinner and brought back a few stale bread rolls for Kate and me!” “She knew we had sold our home for her, yet she still forced us out! When we were starving and tried to borrow twenty dollars from her, she screamed at us in the middle of the street!” Kate wiped away her tears. “We were deep in debt because of her surgery. We had to go abroad and take on grueling, under-the-table jobs. We worked from dawn till dusk for years, aging decades in the process, just to get back on our feet!” “But I suppose we should thank her,” she added, her voice bitter. “If she hadn’t been so monstrously biased, my husband and I would never have worked so hard. So hard that our bodies are broken, so hard that having another child is now difficult for us.” In front of the camera, my son and daughter-in-law relentlessly recounted my cruelty. The live stream chat exploded with rage against me. 【Is that even a mother? She’s a demon! They should have just let her die in the first place!】 【Look at this pathetic funeral. Seems like the old hag’s favorite daughter didn’t treat her so well in the end.】 【I’m their neighbor, I can confirm! The daughter is a real piece of work. She was always hitting and cursing at the old woman. When her mom got sick again, she didn’t care. She just took her money to the casino!】 【There’s a limit to favoritism! The son and daughter-in-law were so devoted, and the daughter was abusive. The old crone still insisted on giving her everything. I wonder if she ever regretted it.】 “I don’t regret it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393295”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The third month of my marriage to Kevin McQuarrie, I slit my wrists. As my soul drifted in the air, I imagined what would come next. I expected to see him weeping, tearing the world apart to find me. At the very least, he should have been clutching my body, kneeling at my grave day and night, drowning in repentance. It would be just like something out of a gothic romance: the billionaire tycoon, chasing after her ghost, his hair turning white overnight, his empire crumbling to dust, left with nothing before taking his own life to join her. But none of that happened. When Kevin McQuarrie looked down at my corpse, all he said was, “What a mess.” There was no regret. No desperate, grief-stricken chase. Instead, my death cleared the way for his darling orphan, Sylvia McQuarrie. In a flash, she became the new Mrs. McQuarrie. I glanced down at the blade in my hand, time snapping back to the moment before I made the cut. Why the hell should I be the one to die? I was never the one who deserved it. I dropped the blade and walked out of the bathroom. This time, before Kevin could move Sylvia into our marital home, I signed my name on the divorce papers. 1 The searing pain in my wrist was the first thing I felt, a brutal confirmation that I was back. The memories of my death replayed in my mind on a relentless loop. I’d been driven to suicide by a single text message I received half an hour ago from Sylvia. It was a photo. Her, straddling Kevin. The pose was intimate, almost obscene, made all the more so by the suffocatingly close confines of his car. Rage consumed me. I called Kevin, again and again. He didn’t pick up. After the fourth frantic call, he simply declined it. All of New York high society knew I loved Kevin McQuarrie to the point of madness. They had a nickname for me: Rebecca Shaw, the Beautiful and Broken. Without him, I couldn’t live. Back then, the thought of Kevin with another woman, doing that… it shattered me. I quickly created a group chat, adding all our mutual friends, and declared I was going to kill myself. Everyone in the group pleaded with me to calm down. Everyone except Kevin. His response was two ice-cold words: “Go ahead.” Those words were a razor to my already frayed nerves. I was so desperate for a scrap of his affection, any proof that he cared, that I actually did it. I started a video call and streamed my suicide. On the screen, my friends’ faces were masks of horror. Finally, Kevin reacted. I heard him mutter, “You crazy bitch,” before the sound of a car engine roared to life. He was coming back for me. He was leaving that other woman to rush to my side. He’s mine, I thought, a triumphant, final flicker of obsession. He can only be mine. But I had cut too deep. I actually died. As a disembodied soul, I had eagerly watched, waiting for the moment his love for me would finally awaken. I waited for him to cradle my body and break down. But he did nothing. He just had me cremated. A month later, he married Sylvia, and she took my place as if I had never existed. That little suicide attempt taught me one thing: to hell with loving a man. It was time to love myself. Kevin McQuarrie, I’m done loving you. Sylvia’s text was still on my phone. I didn’t hesitate to reply. “Kevin prefers to be on top. He’s not into your kind of trashy performance.” Silence from her end. I stepped out of the bathroom and threw everything—the blade, the blood-soaked towels, the despair—into the trash. To think I’d spent ten years trailing after Kevin, begging for crumbs of his affection, only to trap myself in a cage of my own making. What a waste. I sent one last text to Kevin. “The divorce agreement is on your desk. All it needs is your signature.” 2 Kevin returned quickly. The first words out of his mouth were, “Not dead yet? So this is your new tactic, a divorce?” The sneer in his voice was thick, but he wasn’t wrong. The only reason I had managed to marry him in the first place was because of a merger between our families. At the time, the McQuarrie empire was on the verge of bankruptcy, their legacy in ashes. My marriage was the lifeline; my family’s money was the blood transfusion keeping his family’s dying company alive. That was my leverage. Every time I threatened divorce, Kevin would back down, making some small concession. In my delusion, I saw his compromises as proof of his love—the only love he had to give. Now I see it for what it was: not love, but business. He was yielding for the sake of the McQuarrie name, not for me. I schooled my features into a calm mask just as I saw Sylvia standing behind him. Sylvia McQuarrie. Two years my junior, adopted by the McQuarries from an orphanage. She and Kevin had grown up together, the picture of childhood sweethearts. How could I have ever been foolish enough to believe that the fiery new love could ever conquer the tender history of a first love? Besides, I was never the fiery new love. I was just Rebecca Shaw, the unhinged wife. I held the divorce papers out to him. “Sign it.” Kevin let out a sharp, derisive laugh. He snatched the papers and tore them in half, not even glancing at my face. “Sylvia is moving in,” he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She’ll be taking the master bedroom. You have a problem with that?” A problem? How could I dare? In my past life, this was the exact moment things had spiraled. Sylvia had demanded the master bedroom, our bedroom. I had refused, and she’d been relegated to a guest room. The next thing I knew, she had fallen from the window of that room. She claimed the bed was too close to the floor-to-ceiling window and she’d “accidentally” tumbled out. A likely story. Who sleeps with a massive window wide open? Kevin had blamed me entirely. To “teach me a lesson,” he locked me in a dark room, without food or water. By the time he remembered I existed, I was barely breathing. My best friend had pleaded with me. “Divorce him, Rebecca! That bastard is going to kill you if you keep this up!” And I, in my infinite wisdom, had shot back, “But why is he only a bastard to me? Why does he only want to destroy me and not anyone else? It’s because he loves me! He’s obsessed with me!” My friends, hearing that twisted logic, slowly backed away until no one was left. Thinking about it now… what a special brand of idiot I was. Since Sylvia was so keen on stealing my nest, she could have it. “Fine,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm. 3 A flicker of surprise crossed Sylvia’s face. Whatever manipulative drama she had prepared was now useless. Her eyes darted over me, trying to figure out my angle, before she tugged on Kevin’s arm. “Kevin,” she began, her voice a soft murmur, “about that other thing…” She let the sentence hang in the air. Kevin adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, a gesture so refined and elegant it used to make my heart ache. A wolf in scholar’s clothing. Now I realize if a stray dog had made the same motion, I’d probably have fallen in love with it, too. I was just that sick. “Sylvia’s health is delicate,” Kevin said, his voice smooth as silk. “And we need to prepare for the pregnancy. You’ll look after her for the next two weeks. You studied nursing, didn’t you?” Yes, I had. For him. Years ago, when the McQuarrie company was on the brink of collapse, Kevin had been forced to attend endless dinners, drinking himself into a stomach ulcer that landed him in the hospital for weeks. They couldn’t afford a private nurse, so I taught myself the basics and cared for him night and day for half a month. I never even closed my eyes, it seemed. If he reached, I was there with water. If he shifted, I was there to massage his back. I was more diligent than a paid servant. I thought he would remember my devotion. He did—he remembered he had a free caregiver on call. Still, I agreed without a fight. But this time, I would reclaim what was mine. “Kevin, give me back the three corporate seals my family gave you,” I said coolly. “Do that, and I’ll do whatever you want.” Those three seals were the lynchpin that had saved McQuarrie Industries from utter ruin. I had married into the McQuarrie family from another city, against my parents’ fierce opposition. As a last resort, they had given me those three seals, explaining that with them, every major corporation and enterprise in the city would have to give the McQuarrie family face and do business with them. They told me that the day I took back those seals, they would come for me, no matter how far away they were. When I gave them to Kevin, I made him promise to carry them with him at all times, for the good of his career. In my past life, I had asked for them back once. He had pointed a finger in my face and screamed, “Rebecca, who the hell do you and your family think you are? You think these worthless trinkets matter? McQuarrie Industries doesn’t need the Shaws to rise again!” It was then I learned you can’t tame a viper. You can’t warm a heart of stone. If I’d given those seals to a dog, at least it would have wagged its tail for me. Kevin scoffed, pulling one of the seals from his coat pocket and tossing it to me. “Here. You’ll get the other two, one per week, over the next two weeks.” I understood. I had to serve Sylvia well for fifteen days. In exchange, I’d get my freedom. By the time I had all three, my parents would handle the divorce proceedings. I snuffed out the last embers of my love for Kevin. All I wanted now was to see his face when he was no longer a McQuarrie scion, but a pathetic, debt-ridden nobody. I wanted to see if Sylvia would still love him then. 4 And so, for the days that followed, Sylvia lived in my house. The news of her “preparations for pregnancy” had sent me to the hospital with an anxiety attack in my last life. It nearly drove me insane. Because the baby Sylvia was preparing for was Kevin’s. She had spun a tale about her deep spiritual beliefs, claiming that since the McQuarries had adopted her, she was duty-bound to repay their kindness. Since Kevin was married to me and I had remained childless for three years, she couldn’t bear to see the McQuarrie lineage end. She would “sacrifice” herself to provide an heir. She proposed IVF to Kevin. She called it IVF, but it was clear she was just planting his seed the old-fashioned way. She’d sent me photos and videos, one by one, until the torment made me physically ill, coughing up blood. I remember storming into Kevin’s office, my hair a mess, my face pale and gaunt, looking utterly pathetic. He was in the middle of an international conference call. I burst in, ruining the deal, and threw myself on the floor, clinging to his legs, begging him to love me, to have a child with me. I even shrieked, “I promise! Our baby will be smarter than hers! More blessed!” The scene torpedoed Kevin’s public image. He had his security drag me out and lock me away. When my hysterics didn’t stop, he had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. I was only released when I had been “cured”—broken into docile submission. The memory still makes my chest tighten. Why did I debase myself like that? What Sylvia didn’t know was that the reason Kevin and I were childless for three years was because my parents had investigated his family. They had a hereditary genetic disorder. Any child born would be either disabled or suffer from severe cognitive impairments. So now, in this life, with my eyes set on reclaiming my family’s three seals, I was more anxious about Sylvia’s womb than a midwife on call. At 8 a.m., I had the kitchen prepare the finest bird’s nest soup and presented it to her myself. Sylvia took one sip and threw the bowl at me, the hot liquid splashing across my clothes. “What is this garbage? I’m telling Kevin on you.” I endured. During her midday rest, I hired a professional aesthetician to apply firming oils to her body. Sylvia dismissed the woman and pointed a finger at me. “I want you to do it. Are your precious hands too good to serve me, Rebecca?” I endured. At 10 p.m., Kevin came home and disappeared into the master bedroom with Sylvia. He had the gall to look at me with feigned sympathy. “Rebecca, this is all for my sake,” he said, his voice a low whisper. “You love me so much. I know you’ll understand, won’t you?” I stood by the door, listening to the sounds of their passion within, as my phone vibrated. It was my parents. “Rebecca, your mother and I received the seal.” My father’s voice was heavy with relief. “Does this mean you’re finally coming home?” One more to go. Once I had the last one, every project under the McQuarrie corporate umbrella would grind to a halt. Because for the past three years, every contract had been stamped with a Shaw family seal. All of their partners recognized our family’s authority, not theirs. I stood in the hallway, peering through the crack in the door at the two bodies entwined on my bed, and smiled. “Dad, Mom,” I whispered into the phone. “Come get me in a week.” 5 I barely slept or ate during those two weeks of servitude to Sylvia. I lost a dangerous amount of weight, but funnily enough, Kevin’s opinion of me seemed to improve. He would often stare at me, a strange look in his eyes, and occasionally, something resembling a human sentiment would escape his lips. “Rebecca, if only you were always this quiet, this obedient. Life would be so much better.” I would just smile faintly, saying nothing. Oh, I wouldn’t be causing any more scenes. But I wondered just how many scenes he would cause when McQuarrie Industries finally collapsed. The day came. Kevin placed the last seal in my hand. Fearing he might change his mind, I immediately put the signed divorce agreement back on the table, adding a pointed reminder. “Remember to sign this when you get back tonight.” The familiar sneer returned to his face. “What now? You found out Sylvia’s pregnant, so you’re going to pull that live-streamed suicide stunt again?” He leaned in, his voice a low threat. “Go on, Rebecca. If you die this time, I’ll even handle the funeral.” I lowered my gaze. I knew he meant it. That’s why I wouldn’t be so foolish this time. I had planned to pack a few things, but as I looked around the house, I realized there was nothing here that was truly mine. The moment Kevin’s car pulled out of the driveway, I was in a taxi heading in the opposite direction. Phone off, SIM card tossed. From now on, the world was my oyster. Kevin McQuarrie, I’ll be waiting for you in LA. Waiting for your downfall.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393294”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel