Author: Momo Chan

Flames devoured our old family home. My sister, Marie, was trapped inside, severely burned. For some reason, there was an ambulance shortage. Taxis couldn’t get past the roadblocks into the neighborhood. I couldn’t drive. In a blind panic, I called my wife for help. She hung up on me, again and again. Finally, she just turned her phone off. I was left screaming, grabbing at neighbors, begging anyone for a ride. A kind soul finally drove us to the hospital, but it was too late. Marie had missed the golden hour for treatment. She died on a gurney in the emergency room. I was on my knees outside the morgue, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe, when the news report flashed across the hospital’s hallway monitor. “Kathy Delaney, CEO of the Delaney Conglomerate, spares no expense for love. After her childhood sweetheart, Adrian, suffers a minor cut, Ms. Delaney diverts every available ambulance in the city to his aid.” I stared at the screen, my tears turning to ice. In that moment, I made my decision. I was leaving the woman who had killed my sister.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393293”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I took my fiancé, Marcin, to pick out our marital home, we ran into the most two-faced real estate agent I’d ever met. First, she fawned over him, gushing about how young and successful he must be to drive a Rolls-Royce. Then, she implied I was a fraud, a wannabe socialite with a knockoff handbag who could sweet-talk her way into a free house. When she found out we were buying a home together, she announced to the entire showroom, loud enough for everyone to hear, “You know, I thought that sugar daddy who bought you two condos last time was perfectly nice.” Then she added, with a sickeningly sweet smile, “Oh, but I seem to recall you have more than one, Miss Sterling. Do they all know about each other?” I just laughed. My “sugar daddies” are just my godfathers, and my socialite status is very, very real. The real twist? My fiancé is just a scholarship kid my family sponsored. … After Marcin finally met my grandfather, our engagement was officially set. We left dinner in the Rolls-Royce my grandpa had gifted us, heading to a new luxury development nearby to choose our first home together. As soon as we arrived, I slipped off to the restroom. In my haste, I bumped into a sales agent coming out. “Watch where you’re going!” she snapped. I glanced at her name tag: Brooke, Senior Sales Executive. She saw me looking and scoffed, her voice a low, mocking whisper. “Some people carry one fake bag and think they’re real society.” She looked me up and down. “Not spending a dime, just here for photo ops and to use the restroom. Pathetic.” I took a deep breath, about to retort, but she just shoved past me and strutted away. When I came out, however, the arrogant Brooke was gone. In her place was a fawning, flirtatious woman practically draped over Marcin, her body language a masterclass in feigned delicacy. She was giving him the grand tour, pressing her chest against his arm at every opportunity. I took one look at Marcin and understood. My grandfather had just returned from abroad, and this was Marcin’s first time meeting him. He had dressed to impress: a bespoke suit, a luxury watch. For someone like Brooke, sizing up a customer’s wallet was second nature. In a neighborhood where a single commission could set her up for years, it was all part of the game. The moment Marcin saw me, he instinctively recoiled from Brooke, putting a respectable distance between them. “Scarlett, there you are,” he said, his voice warm and welcoming. Brooke turned, and her smile faltered. “Oh, Miss… Sterling. I didn’t realize you were with Mr. Hayes.” She quickly pasted on an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I saw your handbag and thought it was a replica. I just assumed you were here to use the facilities.” Her voice dripped with false sincerity. “We get a lot of wannabes with knockoffs trying to get pictures for their social media. I hope you’re not offended.” A replica? Marcin had given me this bag. And whether I was a “wannabe” or not, he knew the truth better than anyone. Marcin, looking mortified, quickly changed the subject. “Scarlett, I like this location. It’s close to your family’s estate. Should we take a look?” Still fuming from our earlier encounter, I had no desire to deal with Brooke. I walked past her to Marcin’s side. “I’ve heard enough sales pitches. Let’s just see the model unit.” Marcin wrapped an arm around my shoulder, playfully tapping my nose. “Alright, you’re the boss.” While we waited for the elevator, Brooke’s shimmering, eyeshadow-laden eyes were glued to Marcin. “Mr. Hayes, you’re so accomplished for your age! You must be the CEO of a major company.” Marcin offered a polite, noncommittal smile. “Not exactly a CEO.” Taking his smile as an invitation, Brooke simpered, “You’re too modest, Mr. Hayes. Anyone who can afford a Rolls-Royce at your age must be exceptional.” The elevator doors opened. Brooke shot me a disdainful glance, then subtly tugged her collar down, revealing a generous amount of cleavage. She squeezed between us, pressing herself against Marcin as she followed him in. As she pushed past, her stiletto heel ground into the top of my foot. The pain was sharp and sudden. “What the hell are you doing?” I cried out. Brooke turned, her face a mask of innocence. “Miss Sterling, I’m so sorry! I was just trying to press the button for you.” Her voice trembled. “Please don’t report me. I’m just a sales agent. I’m not like you—you can just bat your eyelashes and get a house. You can yell at me all you want later…” Seeing the red mark on my foot, Marcin knelt down, his expression full of concern. He gently rubbed the spot. “Scarlett, it’s okay. She didn’t mean it.” He looked up at me. “I’ll carry you later.” My chest tightened with anger, but I reminded myself we were here to buy our home. I forced myself to calm down. My grandfather had finally approved of our marriage; I was supposed to be happy. I gave a stiff nod and let it go. But as soon as we entered the model unit, my foot throbbed. I needed to sit down. As I moved toward the sofa, Brooke blocked my path. “Miss Sterling! One moment!” She hurried into the bedroom and returned with several towels, which she carefully spread across the sofa. “This is luxury furniture, Miss Sterling. We have to be careful, don’t we?” She added, with a saccharine smile, “Don’t misunderstand. I do this for all my clients. It’s policy.” She paused, her tone shifting. “Though, usually, ladies from wealthy families are more… considerate. I guess your etiquette lessons didn’t quite stick.” That was it. I shot to my feet. “What is that supposed to mean?” Marcin glanced over, frowning. Brooke’s face instantly changed. She beamed at me. “Miss Sterling! You misunderstood! I’m just so envious that you found such a wonderful fiancé! It’s not easy to marry into a family like this. I’m truly jealous.” Marcin came over and knelt by my feet, patting my hand. “After this, I’ll take you for ice cream, okay?” he murmured. “Don’t be angry. You’re not as pretty when you’re angry.” Brooke, clutching her towels, looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Miss Sterling, did I say something wrong? If I did, I sincerely apologize… I really didn’t mean to…” I looked at Marcin, biting my lip to keep from screaming. It was just one sales agent. “Forget it,” I muttered. Marcin gave me a fond nod and helped me up to continue the tour. The penthouse was a duplex, nearly 5,000 square feet of opulent design. Even the tableware displayed on the dining table was a designer set worth thousands. I was admiring the details when Brooke bumped into me from behind, sending me stumbling into the table. With a loud crash, the glass plates and goblets shattered on the floor. A shard sliced my leg. I spun around, ready to unleash my fury, but Brooke was already crying. “Miss Sterling… why were you so careless… I…” Marcin rushed over at the sound. I pointed at Brooke. “You pushed me,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. Brooke looked up at Marcin, her eyes brimming with tears. “Mr. Hayes, I swear I didn’t… I can’t even afford to replace one of those plates. Why would I dare push her?” I pointed to the security camera on the ceiling and grabbed her wrist. “You think you can just deny it? Let’s go. Let’s watch the footage.” Brooke shook her head frantically, trying to pull away. “Ow… Miss Sterling, you’re hurting me… Maybe you were standing behind me, and I didn’t see you. You shouldn’t have been standing there!” She bent down to pick up the broken glass, tears streaming down her face. Her ridiculously short skirt made her look both seductive and pathetic. I kicked at the shards in frustration. “What kind of people do they hire here?” Seeing my genuine anger, Marcin wrapped his arms around me. “Scarlett, it’s okay. I believe you.” He held me tight. “It’s just some broken glass. We can afford it. Besides,” he added, changing the subject, “I’ve looked around, and I really like this duplex. It’s perfect for our first home.” At the words “first home,” Brooke, still on the floor, flinched. Her eyes were red, her voice choked with emotion. “But, Miss Sterling… I thought… that sugar daddy who bought you two other condos seemed to treat you so well…” She sniffled. “Oh, dear. I remember now. Miss Sterling, you have more than one, don’t you? Do they know about each other?” The way she said “sugar daddy” was loaded with insinuation. Marcin and I both stared at her. She feigned a sudden realization that she’d misspoken. “Miss Sterling… I didn’t mean… I just remembered that I’ve seen you here before…” Marcin turned to me, completely bewildered. “Scarlett, what ‘sugar daddy’?” Before I could answer, Brooke jumped in. “Mr. Hayes, don’t misunderstand…” She hesitated, for dramatic effect. “Last month, I saw Miss Sterling here with an older man. I’m pretty sure I heard her call him ‘daddy’… And then I overheard her on the phone, calling someone else ‘daddy’ too…” She gave me a nervous little smile. “But, I could have misheard.” I drew out a long, slow “Mmm-hmm,” a smirk playing on my lips. “You didn’t mishear. I did buy two units in this building. Is there a problem?” I paused. “And as for the ‘daddy’ you mentioned…” It took Marcin a few moments to process. When he did, he rounded on Brooke. “How dare you spread such rumors? Scarlett would never be that kind of person.” Brooke shook her head vigorously. “But we have security cameras and facial recognition all over the building, Mr. Hayes. You can check the footage if you don’t believe me…” I was done with her. I grabbed my bag and started for the door. “The agent who helped me last time was named Claire. She was far more professional. I’ll ask for her.” At the threat of losing the commission, Brooke panicked. “Miss Sterling! No! I was wrong!” Marcin hurried after me. “Scarlett, I believe you. We’ll get a different agent.” Back in the main sales gallery, a woman rushed towards me. “Miss Sterling! I didn’t expect to see you again so soon!” Marcin looked from Claire to me. I met his gaze. “Marcin, it’s true. I bought two condos here a while ago.” My father had made his fortune in real estate. Even though he lived abroad now, he loved to buy property everywhere. Marcin knew this. He didn’t question it, just patted my shoulder reassuringly. “I never doubted you. But this time, we’re buying our home.” Claire beamed. “Oh, you’re buying a home with your fiancé! Congratulations, Miss Sterling!” Just then, Brooke ran up, pushing Claire aside. “Claire, you know the rules about client poaching!” she shrieked. “I was helping Mr. Hayes first! You can’t steal my client!” Her outburst drew a crowd. The sales manager hurried over. Claire looked baffled. “Mr. Hayes and Miss Sterling are buying a home together. Naturally, both their names will be on the deed. But Miss Sterling is my client. It’s been less than 45 days since her last purchase. According to the rules, she’s still my client!” The manager quickly grasped the situation. “That’s correct. By the rules, this commission belongs to Claire.” Brooke glared at me. “Then why didn’t you say so earlier, Miss Sterling?!” I put on my most innocent expression. “First, if you recognized me, how could you not know? Second, you were the one clinging to my fiancé from the moment he walked in. We never asked for you. Third, I’m the customer. How am I supposed to know your internal rules?” Brooke’s face went pale. She grabbed Marcin’s arm, pleading. “Mr. Hayes, it’s my fault I offended Miss Sterling. But… maybe you could just put the house in your name? I mean… you’re not married yet…” I scoffed. My parents were paying the down payment. As if Marcin would dare agree to that. He took a deep breath and shook her off. “Whatever my fiancée wants.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393292”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day of the birthing, I watched through half-closed lids as my cousin, Pom, swapped my egg with hers. I feigned sleep, letting it happen. I let her take my child to be broken. And I continued to nourish her egg with my own heart’s blood, day after day, night after night. In the end, her egg hatched a Celestial Phoenix, a prodigy of immense power, cherished by my husband and me. Mine hatched a common sparrow, dull grey and devoid of magic, its tongue clipped short by Pom’s own hand, its body defiled. When the day of the selection for the new Phoenix Ascendant arrived, my cousin fell to her knees in tears, claiming the children were switched at birth. A slow smile touched my lips. “I’ve been waiting for this day, too.” I was in the courtyard, guiding Niamh through her morning practice, when Pom arrived with her retinue. “Dearest cousin,” she chirped, her voice dripping with false concern. “You work the poor girl so hard. She’s only a child.” She rushed to Niamh’s side, dabbing sweat from her brow, fussing over whether she was thirsty, or hungry, or tired. I offered a noncommittal smile. It had been this way for a century, ever since she’d stolen my child. She seized every opportunity to be near her true daughter, masquerading as a doting aunt, whispering that I was too stern, too demanding, that I didn’t know how to raise a fledgling. My gaze drifted to the girl trailing behind her. My own daughter. Her clothes were rags. She flinched from my gaze, her body a roadmap of blue and purple bruises. There wasn’t a spark of magic in her. I am a Phoenix. My husband is a Phoenix. Yet my daughter was a flightless, grey sparrow. She tried to smile at me, revealing a dark, empty mouth. Her tongue had been severed, leaving her to speak in a wet, slurring whisper. “Greetings to my lady aunt.” Ash. That’s the name Pom had given my daughter. Ash. Pom paused, seeing my lack of reaction. A flicker of secret, cruel delight danced in her eyes before she turned back to Niamh, her hands clutching her daughter’s. “Is your training going well, my sweet Niamh? My family has a Heart-Lotus that can help you withstand the coming trials. I’ll have it sent to you tomorrow.” Her voice was a coo. “Don’t you ever be a stranger to your auntie. In my heart, you are my own dear daughter.” Niamh, her chin high with a practiced, gentle pride, answered, “Thank you, Aunt Pom. I will strive to be worthy of our name. I have already ascended to the rank of a Celestial Phoenix.” At this, Pom’s face bloomed with triumph. Of course, it did. I had fed Niamh with my own life force for a decade while she was still in the egg. Since she’d hatched, she’d been nurtured with the rarest of artifacts and elixirs. Her innate talent was undeniable, a rising star among our kind. Perhaps buoyed by the thought that she was the true mother of such a prodigy, Pom puffed out her chest, then turned. With a vicious tug, she dragged my daughter forward by her hair. “Look at your cousin Niamh,” she spat. “Now look at yourself. If I’d known you’d turn out like this, I would have smashed your egg and been done with it.” My daughter, Ash, whimpered, her voice a choked gasp of “It hurts.” The sound only made Pom pull harder. “Don’t you dare shrink from me.” She yanked until a clump of dark hair came away in her fist, the roots glistening with blood. She held it out for me to see, dangling it in the air between us. “Let this be a lesson, cousin,” Pom said, her eyes boring into mine. “This is how you handle vermin.” Niamh frowned slightly at the display. Pom immediately noticed, rushing to soothe her. “Don’t worry, my sweet. The little wretch deserves it. You two are nothing alike.” She shot another venomous glare at Ash. My daughter scrambled to her feet, quickly wiping the blood from her scalp and bowing her head. “Lady Niamh,” she mumbled, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” That was her first instinct. Apologize to Niamh. She had learned long ago that her own suffering would only end when Niamh was no longer upset. The apology earned her a savage kick to the stomach. “Who gave you permission to call her ‘Lady Niamh’?” Pom snarled. “You are not worthy. You will call her ‘Your Grace.’” That evening, when I asked where Ash was, Pom was peeling grapes for Niamh, her head bowed in concentration. “My greatest mercy was not strangling her at birth,” she said without looking up. Her gaze flickered to me, heavy with meaning. “A common sparrow has no right to live among the Phoenix. As her mother, I live in constant shame. I should have offered my own life to atone for the disgrace.” I pretended not to understand the barb, letting her savor her petty victory. At the banquet that night, Pom was a whirlwind of devotion around Niamh, arranging her cushions and serving her the choicest morsels. Niamh loved the shimmering river-sprites, but their bones were notoriously fine. Pom forwent her own meal to painstakingly debone the fish for her. Meanwhile, my own daughter was chained to the leg of the table. She licked her lips, her eyes fixed on the platters, and whispered, “Mother… may I have a piece of bread?” Pom’s face contorted in rage. She shot up and struck Ash across the face, twice, the sound cracking through the hall. Then she scraped the leftovers from everyone’s plates into a wooden trough and shoved Ash’s head into the slop. “Eat!” she shrieked. “Go on, eat! Have you never seen food before?” My daughter’s face was smeared with filth, tears and snot streaking through the grime. Her eyes, wide and desperate, found mine, pleading for help. I took a slow, deliberate sip of the golden Emberwine. Exquisite. The scene had turned Niamh pale. Noticing her daughter’s discomfort, Pom immediately yanked Ash up by her chain. “You’ve upset your cousin, you little beast. You’ll pay for this.” Ash’s face was a mask of numb resignation. She knew what awaited her at home. New torments, new instruments of pain. The next day, Pom arrived as promised with the Heart-Lotus. My daughter was not with her. As if terrified I might miss the point, she stared directly into my eyes as she spoke. “Last night, I had three brutes ‘discipline’ that unruly thing for her lack of manners.” Her lips curled into a smirk. “She’s just a mongrel bird. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our Niamh.” She leaned in closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Isn’t that right, cousin?” I nodded. Beside me, my husband, Kaelan, shot me a look of deep disapproval. He had always been a man of rigid, tiresome morality. My assent seemed to thrill Pom. The thought of us—mother and daughter, both twisted around her finger—was her sweetest nectar. She presented the Heart-Lotus to Niamh like a holy relic. “Niamh, my love, this is the greatest treasure of my lineage. Consume it, and the trials will be as nothing to you.” Niamh hesitated, her eyes flicking to me. The gift was extravagantly precious. Pom, panicked that Niamh might offer the treasure to us, her parents, grabbed her hand. “This is for your own good. Don’t you mind anyone else. Anyone who would deny you this has a heart as black as pitch.” With that, she urged Niamh to shift into her Phoenix form to begin the ritual of absorption. Pom’s gaze was feverish as she admired the magnificent creature, but then her eyes narrowed. She had spotted a single, missing feather from the tip of Niamh’s tail. Her finger shot out, pointing at my face, her voice sharp with accusation. “How could you be so careless? A feather is missing, and you didn’t even notice! What kind of mother are you?” I raised an eyebrow. “Your own daughter is nearly plucked bald by your hand, and you’re having a meltdown because Niamh shed a single feather? Perhaps you should save your hysterics for your own child.” She trembled with fury at my dismissive tone, but she was powerless. Then, a new, venomous thought seemed to occur to her. A cruel smile spread across her face as she activated a communication crystal. “Scar the little wretch’s face,” she commanded the voice on the other end. “Niamh has been injured. The worthless creature’s bad luck must have tainted her.” A moment later, a thin, piercing scream echoed from the crystal. Ash’s fledgling voice, crying out in agony. “Help me… I’m sorry, please, save me…” Pom listened, her expression one of pure ecstasy, as if hearing a celestial symphony. Niamh, as always, remained silent on such matters, and I remained impassive. After severing the connection, Pom’s mood was visibly improved. My daughter’s screams were her favorite medicine. “Niamh is destined to be the Phoenix Ascendant, cousin,” she said sweetly. “You really should be more careful.” Niamh gave her aunt a reproving look. “Aunt Pom, the feather fell out by accident. It will not affect my power. There is no need for such alarm.” Tears of frustration welled in Pom’s eyes. “How can it not matter! You must cherish your body! Cousin, Kaelan, quickly! You must give Niamh more of your heart’s blood to restore her!” I narrowed my eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, forcing a dry laugh. “I am only concerned for Niamh’s well-being.” She quickly ushered Niamh into the house. “Come, my dear. Let your auntie help you absorb the Heart-Lotus. Then you will be unstoppable. And on the day you become the Ascendant, I have a great secret to share with you.” As the Heart-Lotus began to merge with Niamh’s essence, I quietly closed the door for them, a chilling coldness settling deep within my eyes. Yes, I thought. Some secrets were long overdue for a reckoning. The closer we came to the great selection ceremony, the more frequent Pom’s visits became. But I never saw my daughter again. Kaelan asked after her once, and Pom replied with a saccharine, venomous tone. “Why, brother-in-law, do you miss the little stray? Shall I send her to you? She could warm your bed as a concubine.” Kaelan, silenced and disgusted, could only sigh in frustration. Finally, the day of the ceremony arrived. Beings from every corner of the realm gathered. Niamh, radiant in a gown of iridescent feathers, descended from the sky like a living rainbow. My daughter was dragged behind her, a chain hooked through her collarbones, led like a dog. A long, dark trail of blood marked her path. Just as the proclamation of the new Ascendant was about to be made, Pom fell to her knees, holding aloft a glowing Stone of Lineage, her face a mask of anguish. “A mistake!” she wailed. “It was all a terrible mistake! Cousin, Ash’s blood… it does not resonate with the stone! It proves she is not my child!” She choked on a sob. “Under duress, the old healer confessed! She switched the eggs at birth, too terrified of your wrath to admit her crime!” “Cousin!” she cried, clutching at the hem of my gown. “I am returning your daughter to you! Niamh… Niamh is mine!” Her performance was spectacular, a portrait of heartbroken motherhood. But the assembled elders were not convinced. “Niamh is a Celestial Phoenix. She is without a doubt the child of Lord Kaelan and Lady Yennis,” one declared. “You are a common nightingale. How could you possibly birth a Phoenix?” “Niamh has been raised in grace and power to become the Ascendant,” another added. “This… Ash… we hear she has been utterly defiled. How can there be an exchange?” “Everyone knows Niamh is the apple of Lady Yennis’s eye.” But a few dissenting whispers rose from the crowd. “You know… the wretch does resemble Lady Yennis more…” Ash lifted her scarred face, her eyes meeting mine for a fleeting second before she dropped her head again. My husband, Kaelan, looked back and forth between the two girls, his expression a storm of confusion. I raised a hand, calling for silence. A faint smile played on my lips. “If that is the case,” I said, my voice clear and calm, “then let us switch them back. Niamh is, indeed, your daughter.” Pom’s sobs caught in her throat. She had an entire arsenal of pleas and arguments she hadn’t even needed to use. Kaelan rushed to my side. “Yennis, how can you make such a decision alone? Think of all the love, the power we have poured into Niamh! I will not allow you to be so reckless!” The flicker of hope in Ash’s eyes died, turning to grey despair. Tears silently tracked paths through the grime on her face and fell to the dusty ground. But my voice was firm as I addressed the assembly. “It is true. Everything my cousin says is true. Ash is my child, and Kaelan’s.” I paused, letting the weight of my next words settle over the stunned silence. “After all, I was the one who watched her switch the eggs.” Ash’s eyes shot up, blazing with a renewed, desperate light. She took a tiny, shuffling step toward me, her mouth opening, the word Mother forming on her ruined tongue. Kaelan broke out in a cold sweat. “Yennis, we prayed to the ancestors for a hundred days to be blessed with our precious daughter. How could you possibly have watched her be stolen and done nothing?” He spun, his eyes wild and furious, scanning the crowd. “Who did this to you? Who is controlling you?” I pushed his hand away. “There is a simple way to settle this,” I said softly. “Bring the Stone of Lineage.” Ash eagerly held out her scarred arm, her eyes fixed on me. Kaelan winced at the sight of her wounds. A new cut was made, deep and red. Before the eyes of all, Ash’s blood merged perfectly with mine and Kaelan’s on the stone’s surface. The truth crashed down upon him. Kaelan stared at Ash’s mangled form, and a raw, guttural cry tore from his throat. His eyes turned blood-red with fury. He drew his sword and, in a flash of silver, ran it through my shoulder. “Yennis, why?” he roared, his voice cracking with agony. “Our daughter was tortured, right before your eyes, and you just watched? What is your heart made of? Stone?” I clutched my bleeding shoulder, saying nothing. When Ash heard that I had known all along, she finally broke. A terrible, ragged sobbing shook her thin frame. She dragged her broken body across the ground, crawling to my feet. Her voice was like sandpaper. “Mother… why?” she rasped. “Why didn’t you claim me? Was I not good enough? I can be better, Mother, I can change. Please… don’t throw me away.” Silence was my only answer. Her tears stopped. Her grief curdled into a century of pure, undiluted rage. With a snarl, she sank her teeth into my leg, biting down with all her might, as if she could drain all her pain and betrayal into me. Blood seeped through my gown, but no one moved to help me. They stared at me as if I were a monster, a creature of unnatural cold. A mother who would allow her own child to be tortured for a hundred years deserved no sympathy. Fine. If no one would help me, I would solve this myself. I looked down at the creature latched onto my leg, my expression turning from impassive ice to a cruel, chilling smile. I grabbed her by the hair and hauled her up from the ground. My hand closed around the fragile column of her throat.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393291”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The morning of my wedding, just as we were about to leave for the church, my mother decided to add a last-minute condition to the marriage. My fiancée, Mindy, furious and humiliated, called the whole thing off and married my cousin instead. In the awkward, painful aftermath, my childhood friend, Isabella, suddenly reappeared. She agreed to marry me, and my mother, miraculously, waived any financial demands. I was married. Three years later, my cousin James and his wife Mindy topped the local rich list. I became a stay-at-home dad. During the annual holiday feast at my mother’s house, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. It was my mother and my wife, Isabella. “You were brilliant, Mom, thinking up that last-minute demand for money. It was the perfect way to make Mindy’s family back out. Now Leo could finally marry the woman he truly loved.” A pause. “But if James ever finds out you manipulated him into marrying me just so Leo could have you… will he ever forgive you?” … I had just gotten back from the market with groceries, and I froze outside the patio door, listening. My mother’s voice was nonchalant as she spit out a sunflower seed shell. “I’m his mother. I gave birth to him, I raised him. What’s there to forgive? I could tell him to stay single his whole life and he wouldn’t dare say a word.” She sighed, a theatrical sound. “The one I feel for is you, dear. You were in love with Leo too, but you gave up your own happiness for his, willing to marry James just to clear the way.” My wife, Isabella, sighed back. “It was a worthy sacrifice for Leo’s happiness. He’s so pure and kind-hearted; I couldn’t bear to see him struggle through life.” Her voice was laced with a dreamy satisfaction. “Knowing he could marry his true love, into a family of immense wealth and live a life without a single worry… that was all I ever wanted.” My mother patted Isabella’s shoulder. “And now, everything has come full circle. Leo and Mindy have a beautiful son, so handsome and bright. Mindy’s family was so thrilled with the good genes they gave him a ten-million-dollar bonus. They have three nannies. He’s set for life.” Isabella’s smile was audible in her voice. “I know. Did you see how happy he looked today? Even though Mindy was busy, she drove him and the baby over herself. It just proves we made the right decision.” A wave of nausea washed over me. I leaned against the wall, my legs threatening to give out. So that was the truth. My mother had always loved my cousin more than me. And my own wife… her heart belonged to him, too. So what was I? A placeholder? A complete and utter fool? These were the two people I loved most in the world, the people I trusted implicitly, and they had both betrayed me for someone else. Suddenly, the weight on my back shifted. My daughter, asleep in her carrier, woke up and began to cry. I had gone grocery shopping alone, with my one-year-old strapped to my back. I did it because I felt sorry for my mother, living alone all these years, and I didn’t want to burden her. But clearly, her heart ached for a different child entirely. “You’re back?” My mother and Isabella peered out from the living room. “Did you get the crab? It’s Leo’s favorite.” “And the organic yogurt for little Alex?” Neither of them moved to take the heavy bags from my hands. I carried the groceries into the kitchen and quickly unstrapped my daughter, setting her down to mix her a bottle. In the living room, I could hear my mother and Isabella cooing and laughing, all three of them doting on James’s son. The sound was a knife in my gut. I pressed a hand to my chest. It hadn’t been long since my surgery. And here I was, looking after my daughter, and now expected to cook a feast for them all. A familiar burn started behind my eyes. I’d always known my mother favored my cousin, but I never imagined the depths of it. Isabella noticed me in the kitchen and called out, a perfunctory kindness in her tone. “Take your time, James. No rush. We can eat later.” My mother beamed. “See? Bella takes such good care of you! You chose the right wife.” This was her idea of being cared for? Empty words, followed by absolutely no action. My daughter finished her bottle and started tugging at my pants, her arms raised. “Up, Dada, up.” “Go to Mommy, sweetheart. Daddy has to cook.” She shook her head, her little face crumpling as she clung to my leg. She and Isabella weren’t close. Isabella rarely spent any time with her. My mother frowned from the doorway, her face a mask of annoyance. “Bella’s not feeling well. Don’t tire her out. Just carry the baby yourself.” Not feeling well? I glanced into the living room, where Isabella was bouncing James’s son on her lap, dangling a brand-new toy in front of his face. She looked perfectly fine. If she’d given even half that energy to our own daughter, maybe my little girl wouldn’t be so clingy with me. With a sigh, I strapped my daughter back onto my chest and started prepping the vegetables. My back screamed in protest. My stamina had been shot ever since the surgery. Now, with this new, crushing weight on my heart, the physical pain felt a thousand times worse. This house, this family… there wasn’t a single person here who loved me, who protected me, who even saw me. I washed the vegetables, my tears silently mingling with the water. Was this it? Was this my life? I was only twenty-eight. Was I supposed to endure this for another fifty, sixty years? A bitter resentment churned in my stomach. I refused. After a few minutes, my daughter started crying again. What toddler wants to be tied down? I had no choice but to take her into the bedroom and try to rock her back to sleep. As she gradually quieted in my arms, memories flooded back. When I was a kid, only my dad would comfort me. My mom was always over at my uncle’s house, fawning over James. “James is just so handsome, a little prince. Not like Leo, so scruffy and messy.” I was messy because I never had clothes that fit. James and I were the same age, but my mother always bought new clothes for him first. I only got them after he’d worn them out or grown tired of them. They were always too short, too tight. But she only saw me as sloppy, lacking class. My grades were better than James’s, but that never earned me any praise. “For a man, what matters is earning potential. Good grades don’t mean anything.” Later, when I started dating and brought Mindy home, the first thing my mother did was drag James over to meet her. I knew James asked Mindy out a few times behind my back, but she’d turned him down. When I mentioned it to my mother, she accused me of being petty. “James likes her, Leo. Just let him have her.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was the first time I ever defied her. Mindy and I were getting married. But on the wedding day, my mother got her way after all. She made her move, demanding an exorbitant sum of money from Mindy’s family. They could have afforded it, but Mindy saw my mother for what she was: a bottomless pit of greed. Refusing to be taken for a fool, she walked away in a rage. I begged her to stay, but it was useless. The invitations were sent, the reception was booked. And then James stepped forward, offering to marry Mindy with no financial demands, even increasing the customary gifts. Just like that, he stole my bride. And it was all my mother’s design. Her phone, charging on the nightstand, lit up with a text from my uncle. “Sis, thanks for having James over for the holiday. Appreciate you looking after him.” My eyes welled up. That was how a parent showed love for their son. Whenever I went to my uncle’s house, my mother’s only instruction was, “Make yourself useful. Don’t just sit around. You look after them, you hear me? Don’t embarrass me.” I thought of her Facebook profile. It was a shrine to James. “James, 18: My boy got into college! So proud! Got him a new MacBook!” I got into college too. My mother did nothing. I was the only kid in my dorm without a computer until I worked enough part-time jobs to buy my own. “James, 22: Graduated! The sky’s the limit for my brilliant boy! Here’s a $20,000 graduation present!” I had a job lined up before I even graduated. My mother said since I was earning money now, she didn’t need to give me an allowance anymore. Later, when James married Mindy, my mother posted again. “James, 25: A match made in heaven! So happy these two soulmates found each other!” When I married Isabella, my mother claimed she was too sick to attend the ceremony. All these years… it was like James was her real son, and I was nothing. The more I thought, the more the grief choked me, and tears streamed down my face. The silence from the kitchen finally registered. They realized no one was cooking. My mother stormed into the bedroom and saw me still holding my daughter. “What are you doing? Get out there and cook! It’s late! Do you want James and the others to starve?” “Shh,” I hissed. I had just gotten the baby to sleep. I didn’t want her to wake up. “Don’t you ‘shh’ me! Who does she think she is, a princess? I can’t even talk in my own house?” My mother deliberately raised her voice an octave. Startled by the sudden noise, my daughter woke up and started wailing again. Something inside me snapped. “Mom, this is your house. If you’re hungry, you can cook.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. She swung her hand and slapped my arm hard. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, ordering your own mother around. Everyone knows you’re the best cook. We were all counting on you!” Her voice was shrill. “Now put that child down and get to the kitchen.” I kept trying to soothe my daughter, but she wouldn’t stop crying. My mother tried to take her, but my daughter clung to my neck, refusing to let go. Of course she did. My mother never showed her any affection. She’d just plop her on the floor and ignore her, not even blinking if she fell and hit her head. Isabella came in. “Honey, give her to me. You need to get dinner started. James just said he’s getting hungry.” That sent my mother into a panic. The thought of her precious nephew being hungry was a catastrophe. “Oh, no, we can’t have that! He’s so thin, he’ll waste away if he gets too hungry. I’ll get him some snacks to tide him over. Oh, my poor boy.” I passed my daughter to Isabella, ignoring her protests. I went back into the kitchen. The moment the smell of cooking oil hit me, a wave of nausea rose in my throat, and I started to dry heave. It had been less than two months since my lung surgery. The doctor’s orders were explicit: stay out of kitchens, avoid dust and fumes, and rest. But clearly, rest was not on the menu today. My mother saw me clutching my mouth, not moving, and smacked me on the back of the head. “What’s wrong with you? Are you doing this on purpose? You barely visit all year, and now you’re too good to lift a finger?” I clutched my mouth, the pain making it hard to speak. “My lungs… they haven’t healed. It hurts.” My mother’s eyes bulged. “So what? When I was sick, I still had to work!” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “So because you suffered, I have to suffer too? Because you didn’t marry a rich man, you can’t stand to see me have a good life? When you were sick, Grandma didn’t help you, so now you want me to live through your misery? Does my pain make you feel better?” She flew into a rage, her arm a blur as she slapped me across the face, again and again, until I stumbled and fell to the floor. “You ungrateful brat! How dare you lecture me! I’ll beat the disrespect out of you!” Isabella and James rushed in and pulled her off me. “Auntie, it’s okay,” James said smoothly. “If Leo doesn’t want to cook, I can help.” My mother and Isabella both leaped to stop him. “No! You’re too delicate for this kind of work.” “He’s right, the fumes in here are terrible for your lungs. You should go back outside.” So they knew. They knew the risks. It just didn’t matter if it was me. James smiled his sweet, innocent smile. “Well, then I guess we’re counting on you, Leo. Thanks.” They went back to the living room, laughing and chatting as if nothing had happened. My mother shot one last venomous look at me on the floor. “Get up and cook. Stop playing dead.” Her voice was cold. “You can’t compare yourself to James. He was born for great things. You were born to struggle. A man has to know his place.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood and pushed myself up. A sharp pain shot through my chest. The doctor said to avoid stress and strong emotions. Was the surgery failing? I glanced into the living room. Isabella’s eyes were locked on James. They looked at each other as if the rest of the world had melted away. Fine. This house, this woman… I was done. Let this be our last meal together. After tonight, we go our separate ways. After I finally got a few dishes on the table, I went to wash my hands. James followed me into the kitchen, crossing his arms. “You know, cousin, you’re only two months older than me. Funny how different our fates are.” I knew where this was going. I ignored him. “Mindy loves me. Your wife, Isabella, loves me. You’ve really made a failure of your life, haven’t you?” he continued, his voice dripping with condescending pity. “And your daughter… I bet she’ll inherit your pathetic luck. Destined to serve my family, just like you.” My head snapped up. Now he was talking about my daughter. I glared at him. “What the hell do you want, James?” His eyes slid over to where my daughter was playing on the floor. A strange, predatory smile twisted his lips. “My little Alex has some trouble with his eyes. We’re looking for a cornea donor. Your daughter’s look perfect.” He leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Auntie already agreed. And so did Bella, of course.” A white-hot rage, pure and blinding, exploded in my chest. They were monsters. My daughter was barely a year old. I lunged toward the living room to confront them, but James blocked my path. He shoved me, hard. I lost my balance and crashed forward, my chest slamming into the sharp corner of a table. The spot where they had operated erupted in excruciating pain. Suddenly, James threw himself to the ground and started shouting. “Ow! Leo, why did you hit me? Just because I didn’t help you cook, you had to attack me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393290”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I sat at the table, watching the dinner I’d cooked grow cold. My heart felt the same. Today was my birthday. It was also the birthday of Sarah’s childhood best friend, Leo. I opened Leo’s social media feed, and sure enough, there was a new post. “So grateful to have you with me every birthday! Here’s to many, many more!” The photo was of two hands forming a heart over a birthday cake. One of them was Sarah’s. The necklace she was wearing was a gift from me. I liked the post. Then I put down my phone, scraped the dinner—all of Sarah’s favorite dishes—into the trash, and went to a restaurant to order my own favorites for my birthday. From now on, I would celebrate my own damn birthday. 1 Halfway through my meal, Sarah called, her voice edged with impatience. “Alex, you saw Leo’s post, right?” “I saw it.” “I’ll be home as soon as his party’s over. I’ll celebrate with you next year. Just be a grown-up about this, Alex. Don’t start a fight.” I used to. I used to scream and rage. Not anymore. “Okay,” I said, my voice flat. The next morning at seven, my phone rang. It rang three times, then stopped. I glanced at the screen. It was Sarah. That was her signal. She was too lazy to use her key, so she’d call three times and hang up. No matter what I was doing, I was expected to rush to the door and let her in. Today, I didn’t move. I tossed the phone aside, pulled the covers over my head, and went back to sleep. She knew there was a spare key under the shoe rack by the door. I’d been up until three in the morning packing, and my head was still throbbing. The phone rang a few more times. I didn’t even bother to look. Sometime later, I vaguely heard the front door open, slamming against the wall. A moment after that, my bedroom door was thrown open, followed by Sarah’s furious voice. “Alex, why didn’t you open the door? I called you a dozen times! You know I hate using my key!” I opened my eyes and looked at her, feeling nothing. “I was exhausted. Didn’t hear it.” Sarah opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of it. “I’m hungry,” she said instead. “Get up and make me some porridge. I was up all night, I need to eat and get some sleep.” The old me would have been scrambling to the kitchen already. The new me just said, “I’m tired too. You can buy breakfast downstairs.” Her face tightened with anger, but she forced it down. “Are you still mad that I wasn’t here for your birthday?” “No. You’re overthinking it.” She didn’t believe me. “He’s like a brother to me, Alex. His parents died when he was young. If I don’t celebrate with him, who will? Don’t be so petty. You’re going to make me angry if you keep this up.” “You’re right,” I said. “You should be with him. I’m not angry.” Sleep was impossible now. I got up and went to the bathroom. Sarah grabbed my arm, reluctantly pulling a cheap red string bracelet from her pocket. “Here. Stop sulking. It’s your birthday present. I remembered it was your zodiac year.” I looked at the flimsy bracelet, at the cheap-looking metal charm dangling from it. It was the definition of an afterthought. I thought about the expensive watch Leo had flaunted in his post, and a bitter laugh escaped me. All those months I’d seen Sarah pinching pennies, I’d thought she was saving up for my gift. How pathetic. I held up my own wrist, showing her the watch my mother had sent me a few days ago. “Thanks, but I’ve got a watch. This wouldn’t really work with it. You can keep it.” “You say you’re not angry?” she snapped. “You used to love everything I gave you. Now you’re too good for my gifts?” Sarah didn’t earn much. Her birthday gifts to me were always cheap—a few dollars here, a few dollars there. Sometimes she forgot entirely. I never minded. For her birthday last week, I’d bought her a solid gold necklace. I was so tired. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. I took the red string and put it in my pocket. “Thank you.” I changed my clothes and opened the door to leave. “Where are you going?” Sarah called out sharply. “To play basketball with some friends.” Ever since I’d gotten together with Sarah, all my free time had been her time. I chauffeured her, shopped with her, cooked for her. I had no time for myself. Not anymore. It was time to live for myself. 2 After a great game, we sat on the sidelines, chugging water. My friends complained, half-joking, half-serious. “We were starting to think you’d ghosted us for your girlfriend, man. We were about to take you off the group chat.” “I’m sorry, guys,” I said, and I meant it. “It won’t happen again. Anything you’re doing, just let me know.” “That’s more like it! C’mon, let’s go hit the arcade for a few rounds.” Her circle never accepted me, and to be with her, I’d slowly distanced myself from my own friends. My entire world had revolved around her. Looking back, I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been. It was almost midnight when I got home. I opened the bedroom door to find Sarah sitting up in bed, frowning. “Alex, why are you so late? I had to order takeout for lunch and dinner. It was disgusting.” I opened the closet for a change of clothes. “I ate out too. It was pretty good. You should get used to the taste of takeout if you can’t cook for yourself.” Her eyes widened. “You used to say you’d cook for me every day! That I should never eat takeout because it’s unhealthy!” “I was wrong. If you’re going to live in this world without knowing how to cook, you have to adapt.” A flicker of rage crossed her face. “You’re still angry. You were gone all day, not a single call, not a single text, and you didn’t even come home to cook for me!” “I’m not angry,” I said calmly. “I was out with friends. My phone died.” My detachment seemed to infuriate her more. She threw back the covers, jumped out of bed, and grabbed my arm as I tried to leave. Her voice was shrill. “Can’t you be less insecure for one second? I told you, we’re like brother and sister! Why are you still making a scene? My patience has limits, Alex!” I pulled my arm free. “I’m not making a scene. I’m tired. I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” I took my clothes into the main bathroom and showered, ignoring her calls from the bedroom. For the first time in a long time, I slept through the night. Sarah was a restless sleeper. She’d kick the blankets off several times a night. When we shared a bed, I never got a full night’s sleep, always waking up to cover her again. The next morning, I found her sitting in the living room, arms crossed, her face a thundercloud. I knew the routine. She was waiting for me to apologize, to grovel and beg and make her happy again. It didn’t matter if I’d done anything wrong. That was always the pattern. She’d make a list of demands, and only after I’d completed them would she magnanimously forgive me. I was done with that routine. I ignored her, got ready, and left. I had important things to do today. 3 I went to my office and submitted my resignation. My manager was surprised and tried to talk me out of it, but I was firm. I’d taken this job to be with Sarah, to take care of her. I didn’t need to anymore. Last night, I’d video-called my parents and told them I was resigning and moving back home. I saw the tears of joy in my mother’s eyes. My dad’s health hadn’t been great lately, and running his small grocery store alone was becoming too much for him. It wasn’t some backwater town. It was a pleasant, mid-sized city on the coast. Sarah was from an inland state and loved spicy food. She had always refused to visit my hometown, complaining about the food and the different culture. So, I had left my parents and moved here with her. That evening, I took my friends out to dinner to tell them the news. They all agreed it was the right move. Parents were more important. After a few beers, someone asked, “So what about Sarah? Is she going back with you?” I was silent for a moment, then gave a bitter smile. “No. I think we’re going to break up.” I used to think Sarah and I would build a home here, and then bring my parents to live with us. But that home was gone now. I was going back to the one I’d left behind, the one with my parents, the one that would never abandon me. When I got back to the apartment, Sarah was wearing a white sundress, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, her makeup perfect. She was on a video call with Leo. I could hear his voice from the phone. “Sarah, you look incredible. You could wear a simple white dress and still look like an angel.” Sarah giggled, covering her blushing face with her hand. “Really? You always know just what to say.” I stood there silently. That dress wasn’t simple. It had cost me a month’s salary. When Sarah turned and saw me, her smile vanished. “Gotta go,” she said quickly to Leo. “I’m heading out now. I’ll be there soon. Grab a snack if you’re hungry.” She could be so warm and caring with Leo, but couldn’t spare a single smile for me. She shot me a disgusted look, walked past me, and put on her shoes to leave. She was giving me the silent treatment again. Over the years we’d been together, she’d done this countless times, always over something to do with Leo. Each time, I’d panicked, desperately trying to win back her affection. This time, I wasn’t worried. I just took the groceries I’d bought into the kitchen and made myself a late-night snack. I’d been so busy drinking with my friends that I hadn’t eaten much. For the next few days, I was busy with work handover and packing. The apartment was slowly emptying of my things. Sarah didn’t notice. 4 Today, Sarah went out with Leo again. I sat at the dining table, eating and scrolling through my phone. Leo had a new post up: “Whenever I feel lonely, you’re always there. It’s the best feeling. So grateful!” The photo was of him and Sarah, their heads pressed together, smiling and making peace signs for the camera. Sarah’s friends flooded the comments with likes and messages about how envious they were of their bond. They had always believed Sarah should be with Leo. The childhood-sweethearts trope was too perfect to resist. I was just the third wheel who’d gotten in the way. Looking at the picture, I suddenly thought her friends were right. They did look more like a couple. I used to suffer in silence for a long time before gently asking Sarah to keep a little distance from Leo, just for appearance’s sake. Her friends would mock me, calling me controlling, saying I was suffocating her and denying her the right to have friends. Sarah never defended me. She’d join in, telling me not to be so possessive, to give her more freedom. Sarah had commented on the post, too: “You’re always there for me, too!” I closed the app, my heart a placid lake, and cleared the table. Thunder rumbled outside. It was about to rain. I went to the balcony and brought the laundry in just as fat raindrops began to splatter against the windows. I used to panic on rainy days, calling Sarah frantically to see where she was, rushing to bring her an umbrella so she wouldn’t get a single drop on her. She and her friends would laugh at me, calling me a mother hen, saying I worried too much and ruined their fun. I showered early, got into bed, and fell asleep scrolling through videos. I was woken by the sound of my bedroom door being thrown open. Seeing me asleep, Sarah’s voice was filled with righteous anger. “Alex, it’s pouring rain outside, and your girlfriend isn’t home this late, and you’re not worried at all? If you were my friends’ boyfriends, they’d be calling nonstop, asking where they were, showing up with an umbrella! And you?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393289”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Witchcraft runs in my blood. For generations, the Hamilton family has served the Devereauxs, the wealthiest dynasty in the country, performing an annual rite to alter their cursed fate. In this generation, the burden of the craft fell to me, and me alone. The moment my final exam ended on Friday, I was whisked into a waiting Maybach, heading for the old Devereaux estate. But as I stepped out of the car, a hand tangled viciously in my hair, yanking my head back. “You little slut! Isn’t it enough you’re seducing my fiancé at school? You had to chase him all the way to his family home? Don’t you know your place!” “I swear, if I don’t ruin that pretty face of yours today, my name isn’t Victoria Sterling!” A searing pain ripped through my scalp as I was thrown to the ground. Victoria’s friends descended on me, kicking and punching, their threats echoing in my ears. One of them stomped on my wrist. I heard the sickening crack of it breaking. The bone tore through the skin. But if I couldn’t perform the rite today, the entire Devereaux family would be consumed by a torrent of blood and disaster. 1 Both of my hands were shattered, crushed by a brick. The splintered bones of my wrists jutted out from the flesh, the agony so intense it stole my breath. Victoria’s friends stared, their faces pale with shock. They hadn’t expected their little “lesson” to go this far. They had no idea the real consequences had yet to begin. A thousand years ago, a curse was laid upon the Devereaux line. Every child, for generations, has been born with a fatal affliction. Only through my family’s witchcraft, an annual defiance of heaven’s decree, have they managed to survive. The magic was passed down, but I was the only one in my generation to receive its full power. Two years ago, the craft’s backlash claimed my parents, leaving me an orphan. Charles Devereaux, the family patriarch, was a man of modern sensibilities. He’d been skeptical that a young woman like me could rewrite his family’s destiny. During one rite, he deliberately altered the placement of several altars. The next day, his son, Caleb, was in a car accident that shattered both his legs. Doctors across the country were baffled by his condition. Simultaneously, several of his company’s largest projects were flagged for catastrophic errors. The Devereaux empire faced a crisis unlike any before. He had no choice but to hire me again, this time for a fortune. Only after I had completed the ritual did their fortunes begin to turn. From that day on, I became the Devereauxs’ most sacred protector. Barely an adult, I held more power in their house than anyone. To secure my loyalty, Charles had even transferred half of the company’s shares to my name. The lives and fortunes of over a hundred family members rested on my shoulders. And now, with my hands broken, they were all facing ruin. Victoria, oblivious to the gravity of her actions, was still preening over me. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Seducing Caleb at school is one thing, but following him home? I’m here today as his fiancée to meet the Devereauxs’ special protector. You dare ruin this for me? I’ll make you regret you were ever born!” The pain was so blinding I couldn’t speak. The sheer stupidity of it all left me breathless. Caleb had only been passing messages from his father, showing me financial statements so I could see my own earnings and discussing the placement for tonight’s altars. The celestial alignments changed each year, and the rite had to adapt. How had that become me seducing him? I tried to explain, but just then, the estate’s butler emerged from the villa. The scene before him drained the color from his face. “Miss Hamilton! Who did this to you?” he gasped. “It’s over… it’s all over! What are you all standing there for? Call an ambulance! If anything happens to Miss Hamilton, the Master will have your heads!” Victoria, consumed by rage, ignored him completely. Hands on her hips, she jabbed a finger at me. “Are you blind? I’m Caleb’s fiancée, and I’m teaching a homewrecker a lesson. Who are you to interfere? You’re just a dog kept by the Devereauxs. Don’t you know who your master is?” She scoffed. “Save her? To hell with that. If I don’t tear her face off today, I’ll have wasted twenty years of my life!” I raised a trembling hand, trying to signal the butler for help. But one of Victoria’s friends stomped her heel directly onto my shattered wrist. “Stop the act! We’re not as easy to fool as Caleb! You’re always clinging to him at school, your skin is thicker than a pig’s hide. It’s time you learned a lesson!” “Tori is the one the Devereauxs chose for him! You’re just some charity case dreaming of marrying into a dynasty? You’re not worthy! I spit on you!” Cold sweat drenched my body. I fought through the agony to explain. “You’re mistaken! Caleb was talking to me about the ritual tonight. You’ve broken my hands… the entire Devereaux family will die because of this!” “Let me go! If you get me to a hospital now, there might still be time. If we miss the auspicious hour, the Devereauxs are finished!” Caleb was arrogant and looked down on everyone. If not for my pact with his family, I’d never willingly speak to him. But choosing a harpy like Victoria as his fiancée? The Devereauxs’ centuries-old legacy was about to be destroyed by her sheer ignorance. I thought my explanation might make her pause. Instead, she laughed as if it were the funniest joke she’d ever heard, her face a mask of cold contempt. “A ritual? Honey, what century are you living in? You think anyone still believes that crap? If I hadn’t caught you today, I bet your ‘ritual’ would have ended up in Caleb’s bed!” “You little tramp, don’t you dare play innocent with me. Are you going to say the Devereauxs are only alive today because of you? Who the hell do you think you are?” The butler, frantically making a call, rushed forward to help me, but Victoria slapped him across the face. “I am the future Mrs. Devereaux! I’d like to see anyone here dare to touch me!” she shrieked. “If a single hair on my head is harmed, Caleb will have all of your miserable lives!” The guards flinched, not daring to move. The butler, afraid to offend Caleb’s fiancée, could only pace frantically. One of Victoria’s friends sensed something was wrong. “Tori, they don’t look like they’re faking,” she whispered nervously. “Maybe this bitch really is important to Caleb. He’s on his way here now, shouldn’t we wait?” Victoria shot her a glacial look. “Do I need you to teach me how to handle a slut?” “She’s just a tramp. Even if I beat her to death, Caleb wouldn’t dare say a word to me! He needs my father for that new project. You think he’d protect this bitch over that?” The friend fell silent, retreating back into the fold. A cold rage began to burn through my pain. “Your stupidity is your own problem,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Don’t drag over a hundred members of the Devereaux family down with you.” “Every word I’ve said is true. If you don’t believe me, call Caleb right now and ask him.” “Today is the most important day of the year for the Devereauxs. You’ve made me bleed. They will not spare you. What good is a business deal when you’re dead?” Victoria didn’t believe a word. She swung her hand and struck me across the face, a hard, sharp slap. “To hell with your ritual! Do you think I’m an idiot? Call him? You’re not even worthy. You might fool Caleb, but you can’t fool me!” “Today, I’m going to teach you a lesson. Let’s just see if anything happens to the Devereaux family!” Suppressing my fury, I tried to use voice commands to have my phone call 911. Before I could finish, Victoria crushed it under her heel. “This is illegal! The Devereauxs won’t let you get away with this! Stop now, and you might have a chance. If the police get here, you’re finished!” She was unmoved, lunging at me again. Threats were useless. Using every ounce of strength I had left, I scrambled to my feet and threw myself at her. She tumbled to the ground, her face contorted with rage. I tried to crawl toward the butler, but a heavy blow struck the back of my legs, and I collapsed. “Beat her! Beat her until she can’t move!” Victoria screamed. “Some powerful witch, can’t even handle a single blow from a stick? You’re a fraud, a phony!” “I’ll teach you to act! I’ll teach you to seduce Caleb! If you walk away from this alive, I’ll change my name!” She climbed on top of me, pinning me down, her hands a blur as she rained slaps down on my face until it was a swollen, bloody mess. During a brief pause when her arms grew tired, I used my last bit of energy to scream at her. “Victoria, stop! The time is almost here! If I don’t go in now, people will actually die!” “Then it won’t just be Caleb, you’ll be an enemy to the entire Devereaux family! Do you think you can get away with murdering that many people? The backlash will destroy you!” Victoria’s fury turned to laughter. Another slap landed on my cheek. “A witch, are you? You perform rituals? Fine. Do one now. Let’s see if your magic can save you!” “Aren’t you so powerful? Aren’t you the one who can change fate? How come you couldn’t predict you’d meet with disaster the moment you stepped out your door today?” The pain was too intense for words. She took my silence as guilt. “No more excuses? What’s wrong, great witch? Done with the performance?” “You’re so amazing, I just have to let everyone see this. In this day and age, we still have superstitious trash like you! Performing your ‘rituals’ in other people’s beds!” “If it weren’t for you, Caleb wouldn’t have canceled on me so many times. Bitch, I’m going to tear your face apart!” Blood and tears mingled, blurring my vision. I couldn’t believe that scumbag Caleb was using me as an excuse for his own philandering. I’d run into him at restaurants several times with other women; he’d always paid my bill to buy my silence. I had even warned him not to cheat on his fiancée. And Victoria, completely unaware, saw me as the homewrecker. My body trembled with a powerless rage. “If you don’t believe me, ask the butler! He knows everything!” The butler rushed forward to explain, but Victoria’s friends blocked his path. “Miss Hamilton is truly the family’s benefactor! You can’t touch her!” he pleaded. “The Devereaux family owes its entire existence to her! I’ve already notified the Master, he’s on his way! If you continue, not even God will be able to save you!” Victoria spat in the butler’s direction and looked down at me, her eyes burning. “You’re more resourceful than I thought. You even managed to buy the butler. Is he the one who paved your way into the master bedroom?” “You’re no virgin, so why pretend? You’ve probably used this same act on countless rich men. Today, I’m going to expose you to the world. Let’s see how you seduce anyone after this!” With that, she took out her phone and started a livestream. The camera was pointed directly at my face. “Hey everyone, take a good look! A modern-day witch! So powerful she can dispel your family’s misfortunes just by sleeping with you. Ever seen a whore who does rituals? Well, now you have!” “Today, you’re all in for a real education!” The stream instantly flooded with over a hundred thousand viewers. The comments were a torrent of vitriol. “OMG this girl is insane for money. Is she that desperate for a man? There are homeless guys on the street, why not sleep with them?” “Anyone who resorts to this ‘ritual’ crap must be at their wit’s end. This girl uses her body to climb the ladder and still has the nerve to act all high and mighty? Shameless.” “These homewreckers will come up with any excuse. Nanny, maid, witch… what’s next? Mortician? Sluts like her should be struck by lightning! Girl, you hit her hard, I’m a lawyer, I’ll represent you in court for free!” The support from the viewers emboldened Victoria. She turned to the camera and proceeded to slap me dozens of times. I was fading, barely conscious, tears streaming down my face. Victoria, however, was triumphant. She moved the camera closer. “See, everyone? A few slaps and she’s acting like this. You’d think I was killing her! Is this how you play the victim for men? You’re nothing but a manipulative bitch, and I’m the one who’s going to fix you!” I knew nothing I said would change her mind. I had to save my strength and wait for the Devereauxs to rescue me. My lack of resistance only enraged her further. She grabbed my hair, forcing my head up. “What? Done with the act? Can’t keep it up anymore? Speak!” “Admit you’re a slut who seduces other women’s fiancés. Admit you don’t know any magic, that you just sell your body for money. Do that, and I’ll let you go today!” I bit my lip until it bled, refusing to say a word. Just then, a comment floated across the screen. “I heard roosters can ward off evil spirits. They can probably handle a slutty fox-spirit too. Why not let her get it on with a rooster? That would be an education for all of us!” Victoria’s eyes lit up. Her friends grabbed me and began dragging me towards the old manor. Realizing what they planned to do, I fought with all my might, collapsing to the ground and trying to crawl away. Victoria stomped on my back, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. “Trying to run? Not a chance!” “You like men so much, don’t you? You’re so lonely, aren’t you? Today, I’ll be the witch. I’ll grant your pathetic wish!” The butler and guards followed from a distance, flinching with every move Victoria made, looking as if they might faint. “Please, stop! I’m begging you on my knees!” the butler cried. “Miss Hamilton is the family’s very soul! You’re destroying the Devereauxs!” He abandoned all decorum and lunged forward to save me, but Victoria’s friends slammed the door and locked it, trapping them outside. “Watch closely,” Victoria’s voice echoed from inside. “This is what happens to homewreckers. If any other shameless bitch tries to get near my man, this is how you handle them!” She dragged my broken body towards the room with the altars. The sounds of the butler’s desperate pleas faded into the distance. My heart turned to ash. There was no escaping this. The Devereaux family was finished. Victoria scanned the room, her eyes finally landing on the black rooster prepared for the ritual. I took the opportunity to break free, but I only made it a few feet before her friends dragged me back. Victoria grabbed a golden ritual bowl from an altar and smashed it over my head. “You bitch! Still fighting! I’ll teach you to run!” “Break her legs, too!” They swarmed me, their feet stomping down on my body relentlessly. Soon, I didn’t even have the strength to scream. I lay there, a heap of broken flesh. The viewers in the livestream cheered, proclaiming how satisfying it was to watch. Victoria then ordered, “Strip all her clothes off! Let everyone get a good look at what a real slut looks like!” Even my underwear was torn away and thrown aside. I was completely naked. Victoria approached, holding the ritual blade from the altar, its yew-wood handle dark in her hand. She tapped the flat of the blade against my chest. “This is what you use to seduce men, isn’t it? These two lumps of flesh? Let me help you get rid of them.” The consecrated blade touched my skin. The pain was a line of white-hot fire. I instinctively twisted away, trying to escape. The blade raked across my body, tearing through skin and muscle, carving a deep gash from my chest down to my stomach. I lay in a pool of my own blood, on the verge of collapse. Victoria aimed the camera at my mutilated body. “See that? This is what happens to sluts! All your witchcraft and rituals are useless against my knife!” As she spoke, she had her friends pin me down. There was no escape. I could only watch as she pressed the blade to my chest again, carving two deep, cruel circles over my breasts, pressing so hard it felt like she was trying to pierce my heart. The livestream was flooded with gifts and donations. Finally, Victoria threw the knife down in frustration. “Too bad the blade is too dull to cut them off. You’re lucky!” “The warm-up is over,” she said with a grin. “Time for the main event.” Her friend threw the rooster onto my body. Its sharp beak instantly dug into my flesh. “Tori’s ideas are the best! This bitch will never dare to go near Caleb again!” “Serves her right for not knowing her place. The Devereauxs? As if she could ever dream of being one of them.” “Forced to mate with a rooster, and broadcast to the whole world… If I were her, I’d kill myself right now.” Still not satisfied, Victoria grabbed the rooster, preparing to force it onto me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393288”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 After his first love died, Anton hated me for ten years. I tried everything to win his affection, but all I ever got was a cold sneer. “If you really want to make me happy, Grace,” he’d say, “why don’t you just die?” His words were a knife in my heart, yet when the burning rafters of our home came crashing down, he died saving me. He lay in my arms, and with the last of his strength, he pushed my hand away. “Grace,” he whispered, his voice a ghost of a breath. “If only I had never met you…” At his funeral, his mother’s sobs were accusations. “Anton, my boy, it’s all my fault. I never should have forced you to marry her. If I had just let you be with Evelyn, would things have been different today?” His father’s glare was full of venom. “He saved your life three times. Why do you only bring him disaster? Why wasn’t it you who died?” Everyone, including me, regretted our marriage. In the end, I went to the top of Starlight Point, the place where lovers make wishes, and threw myself from the edge. I woke up ten years in the past. This time, I would sever all ties with Anton. This time, I would give everyone the ending they wanted. 2 “You’ve really outdone yourself, Grace. Using your parents’ dying wish to force my family’s hand. Making them pressure me into marrying you. Do you really think this will make you happy?” The voice was deep and cold, a ghost from a past I thought was gone. I blinked, my vision clearing, and stared at Anton. He stood before me, young and defiant in a sharp, tailored suit, a world away from the broken man he would become. This was eighteen-year-old Anton. I had really gone back. Suppressing the knot of grief in my throat, I drank in the sight of him, alive and whole. “You don’t want to marry me because the one you truly love is Evelyn. Isn’t that right?” Anton let out a bitter laugh. “What if it is? Are you going to step aside?” “Yes,” I said, my voice firm. My parents had been national heroes, diplomats who died in a bombing overseas. In recognition of their sacrifice, the government had granted me a special boon—a state-sanctioned marriage contract, blank and waiting for a name. I could marry anyone I chose. Or, I could use it to arrange a marriage for someone else. He stared at me, then a cynical smile twisted his lips. “You used the contract to pressure me. My parents are forcing me. Our marriage is a done deal. How exactly are you going to ‘step aside’ now?” “Grace, I don’t have time to play your games. Go back to the registrar’s office and file the damn contract. I’ll wait for you here.” He turned away, leaning against the cold stone wall of the government building, the disgust in his eyes a physical blow. For two lifetimes, I had loved Anton. He had saved my life twice, acts of reckless bravery that I mistook for secret affection. I had naively used my parents’ legacy to marry him, only to learn too late that his heart belonged to another. My decade of love had been his decade of torment. In my past life, I had spent years performing acts of charity, bartering my own life force in mystical rites, all to earn him a chance at rebirth. Before the end, a spiritual guide had warned me, “Within twelve hours of his second chance, you must resolve his three greatest regrets. Once it is done, you must leave immediately.” “From then on, your paths will diverge. He will no longer be fated to die at thirty. You will both find your own destinies.” “But rebirth always has a price, my child. Be certain you are willing to pay it.” As long as Anton could live, I was willing to pay any price. I went back inside and amended the contract, formally requesting the union of Anton McGaw and Evelyn Lin. I knew his three regrets. He had written them in his private journal. Regret not fighting my parents’ arrangement. Regret marrying Grace. Regret not being able to save Evelyn. Now, his first regret was fulfilled. I walked out with the official document and handed it to him. He looked at me with contempt, as if I were a predator who had finally cornered her prey. He reached to open it. I placed a hand over his. “Wait until tomorrow,” I said, offering a gentle smile. “It’ll be a surprise.” He glanced at me, his voice laced with scorn. “Pathetic. Today, tomorrow—it’s still a marriage to you, isn’t it? What’s wrong with you today? Are you that deliriously happy you finally trapped me?” I was happy. Because I was finally seeing you alive again. I smiled. “I think you’re the best person in the world. Anyone who marries you will be incredibly happy.” “Let’s go,” he snapped, turning away. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was blushing. On the ride back to his family’s estate, the car passed a street bustling with nightlife. I overheard a group of girls talking excitedly. “Tonight’s the Perseid meteor shower! They say if a couple watches it together from Starlight Point, they’ll be soulmates for three lifetimes!” A memory pierced through me. In my past life, I had heard the same thing and eagerly begged Anton to take me. He had looked at me with that chilling, mocking expression. “Isn’t one lifetime of you enough? Now you want to haunt me for three?” “It’s a stupid superstition, a ridiculous fairytale for fools. If you want to believe it, fine, but leave me out of it.” Even now, the memory of his cold eyes made me shiver. I quietly closed the car’s privacy screen. But this time, Anton spoke, his tone unexpectedly neutral. “You want to go?” “I can take you to Starlight Point tonight. It can be my apology for not being able to attend the memorial for your parents after the wedding.” I looked up at him, surprised. It was both unexpected and completely in character. Anton had always been like this—a cruel tongue hiding a soft heart. He didn’t love me, but he had still risked his life for me three times. The first, when I was attacked by muggers, he took a knife to his right arm protecting me. The hand that was once skilled enough to hit a target a hundred yards away could never hold a bow again. The second, when I contracted a deadly virus, he climbed a treacherous cliff face to find a rare herb to save my life, nearly breaking his leg in the process. The third, during a fire at the embassy, he died saving me. Anton was perfect in every way. He just didn’t love me. I knew that after today, we would have no future together. Even if we watched the meteor shower from Starlight Point, the legend wouldn’t apply to us. Still, I suppressed the hot tears welling in my eyes and gave him a smile so bright it felt cheap. “Okay. Let’s go see the meteors together.” 3 Halfway there, our car was stopped. It was Evelyn’s personal assistant. She said Evelyn was suffering from a terrible migraine and wanted to see Anton. He frowned at the news and immediately got out of the car. “Evelyn’s not well. I have to go see her. You go back to the estate. I’ll meet you at Starlight Point tonight.” I nodded. “Okay.” He looked at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “You used to hate it when I went to see her. What’s changed?” I opened my mouth, but he cut me off with another sneer. “Right. We’re about to be married. I guess she’s not a threat to you anymore.” He walked away, never seeing the desolate smile on my face. I never tried to stop him from caring for Evelyn. I only intervened once, when I discovered she was having an affair with a married government official. I tried desperately to keep Anton away from her, to protect him from the inevitable scandal. But he never knew. After she died, he grieved her loss for a decade. If I had to choose, I would rather see him with her and happy, than see him tormented and dying for me. My first stop was the passport office to arrange my travel documents. Then, I returned to the McGaw estate. Mrs. McGaw had prepared a feast, a table laden with all my favorite dishes. As I always did, I took off my white fur-trimmed coat and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s cold, Amelia. You need to take care of yourself.” She beamed at me, her face alight with joy. “Grace, you’re always so thoughtful. Quick, let me see the marriage contract! I’ve waited so long to finally call you my daughter.” Mr. McGaw, noticing I was alone, bristled with anger. “That boy didn’t come back with you again? The contract is finalized, and he still doesn’t know how to cherish you? When he gets home, I’ll give him a piece of my mind!” Their genuine affection was a bittersweet ache in my chest. They had raised me after my own parents died, giving me a home, giving me their love. I had always been the dutiful, obedient daughter. But this time, I had to betray their hopes. I looked at them, my voice heavy. “Arthur, Amelia… I’m not marrying Anton.” “I’m leaving for the coast tomorrow. I won’t be here to look after you anymore, so you must promise to take good care of each other.” Amelia stared, her smile faltering. “Your parents died serving this country. You grew up here. This estate is your home. Where would you go?” Her eyes filled with alarm. “Is it because of that Lin girl? Did Anton hurt you? Is that why you’re calling off the wedding?” “Don’t do this, Grace. He has feelings for you, I know he does. He risked his life for you twice! Every year for your birthday, he spends months searching for the perfect gift. I know you love him too. You learned to cook for him, you massage his hand every night to ease the pain. You would be so happy together!” “Besides, that Lin girl is trouble. We can’t let her win. Please, don’t leave out of anger.” In my past life, they had said the same things. In the end, I lost my husband, and they lost their son. We all lived with a lifetime of regret. I gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “Amelia, you can’t force love. Anton’s heart belongs to someone else. It’s wrong of me to force him to marry me.” “Last night, I had a dream. I dreamt that he and I were married. But he wouldn’t see me. He worked himself to the bone, driving his body into the ground. He wouldn’t eat the food I made for him, wouldn’t let me care for him when he was sick. He told me that the pain I brought him was greater than any happiness. He even… he even died at thirty, saving my life.” The words were a physical pain, making it hard to breathe. Amelia was stunned. “But… that’s just a dream, Grace. Anton wouldn’t…” I sniffled, forcing a smile. “Dreams can be warnings, Amelia. I want him to live a long life. It’s better that we’re not husband and wife.” “He’s a man of privilege, but he’s never truly been free to make his own choices. At the very least, he should be able to choose who he marries.” I knelt before them and bowed my head to the floor three times. “My travel papers are ready. Please, grant me this one wish. I will never forget your kindness. I will repay it for the rest of my life.” Arthur’s lips thinned. He helped me to my feet. Amelia, wiping her tears, pressed a thick stack of bills into my hand. “If this is what you’ve decided, then I will respect your choice. But remember, no matter what happens, this will always be your home.” My own tears finally fell, and I hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Amelia.” By cutting my ties with Anton, the tragedy of our past life would never happen. He would live a long life. His parents wouldn’t lose their son and grow to hate me. This time, everyone would have a happy ending. The second of his regrets was fulfilled. Now, only one remained. That evening, I went to Starlight Point. The scenic overlook was crowded with couples, all there to wish for a shared destiny. “Grace.” A familiar voice cut through the crowd. I turned, my heart leaping, only to see Anton’s thunderous expression. He grabbed my wrist, his eyes blazing with a furious, crimson light. “You know how much I despise people who abuse their power. I didn’t escort you home, so you ran to my parents and tattled, making them humiliate Evelyn. She tried to kill herself, Grace. She took poison. Are you satisfied now?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393287”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The hospital’s new resident Gloria claimed to see prophetic live comments. During surgery, she announced: “Dr. Reed will slip in one minute, severing the artery. The patient will die.” A minute later, my scalpel slipped. The patient bled out. When grieving relatives arrived, Gloria warned colleagues: “In thirty minutes, the father will stab Dr. Reed – half an inch left of her heart.” Thirty minutes later, the blade pierced my chest at the predicted spot. As my fiancé Mark rushed me to surgery, Gloria sighed: “They’ll find Evie’s pregnant during the operation…and the baby isn’t yours.” The pre-op scan confirmed her words. Mark swore he’d never touched me, breaking our engagement as I hemorrhaged. I died abandoned on the operating table. Gloria became legendary. When I reopened my eyes, it was her first prophetic day again. Gloria’s voice was a shot of panic in the sterile calm of the OR. “Dr. Reed, stop! You have to stop the surgery, you’re going to kill him!” The entire medical team froze. “Gloria, what are you talking about?” the head nurse snapped. “The patient’s life is on the line. This is no time for jokes!” But Gloria’s face was a mask of unnerving confidence. “I’m telling the truth. I can see comments—they predict the future!” She held up a hand as if to read from it. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll read them to you.” “‘In one more minute, Dr. Reed’s hand will slip. She’ll sever the patient’s artery, causing a massive hemorrhage, and the patient will die.’” Every person in the room stopped moving, their eyes snapping to me. In that same instant, a wave of vertigo washed over me. I stared down at the scalpel in my hand, a disbelieving tremor running through me. I was… reborn. But before the reality could fully sink in, a shriek shattered the silence. “His artery is severed!” the head nurse cried, her face pale with panic. “Massive hemorrhage! We’re losing him! Get cross-matched plasma, now! Prep for emergency resuscitation!” Her voice yanked me back to the present. I stared in horror at the blood pooling in the patient’s chest cavity, the crimson tide rising with terrifying speed. “Evelyn, what the hell are you doing?” one of the other surgeons demanded, his voice thick with fury. “You’re the lead surgeon! How could you be so careless? Do you have any regard for this man’s life?” I bowed my head, my hands moving on instinct, suturing the wound with frantic precision. I didn’t have time to argue. But inside, my mind was a raging storm. How? The second I realized I was back, I had gripped the scalpel with all my strength. I made sure it wouldn’t slip. So why did it happen all over again? Why was his artery still cut? The operating room descended into controlled chaos, but Gloria remained perfectly still. She stood to the side, shaking her head with an air of tragic pity. “It’s no use,” she said softly, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “You can’t save him.” “The moment Dr. Reed’s scalpel cut the artery, the prophecy of the comments was fulfilled. This patient was destined to die. No one can change that.” As if on cue, the heart monitor shrieked. A long, piercing beep echoed through the room, signaling what we all knew was coming. His heart rate had dropped to zero. Just as Gloria had predicted, the patient on the table died from blood loss, our resuscitation efforts utterly futile. A heavy silence fell over the room. The other staff stared at the still body, their faces a mixture of disbelief and shock. “But… why?” one of them murmured, re-checking the vitals. “The sutures were immediate, the bleeding was controlled, the plasma was a perfect match… He should have stabilized.” Instinctively, their gazes shifted to Gloria. In that moment, her credibility was forged in the crucible of our failure. They believed her. Gloria let out a somber sigh. “The future shown in the comments is immutable. Once a prediction comes to pass, the entire chain of events is set in stone. There’s no escaping it.” Her eyes, filled with a calculated worry, landed on me. “Dr. Reed, the patient is gone. There’s no point in looking for another reason. The simple fact is, your hand slipped. Instead of trying to find excuses, you should probably be thinking about how you’re going to explain this to his family.” She then addressed the room. “Everyone, let’s not just stand here. We all need to write our incident reports.” Her words were a cold splash of reality. The patient had collapsed from a sudden heart attack at work. His family lived out of state and were on their way, expecting to hear news of a successful surgery. They would be here any minute. The team dispersed, a cloud of grim duty hanging over them as they left to document the tragedy. Gloria cast one last look at me, a subtle shake of her head, before turning to leave as well. I remained rooted to the spot, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I know I held that scalpel steady. So how was his artery still severed? Was Gloria right? Was the future truly unchangeable? While the others wrote their reports, I locked myself in the operating room, replaying the events for hours. Eventually, the family arrived, their faces etched with the fatigue of a long, frantic train journey. The first thing they saw was their son’s body, his face a waxy, lifeless white. A gut-wrenching cry tore from his mother’s throat. “My boy! Oh, my baby boy! You were just on a video call with us last night! You said you were coming home for the holidays… How can you just be… gone?” “Open your eyes, son, please! Look at us! We’re here, Mom and Dad are here to see you…” The parents’ sobs were like a physical blow. Even the most hardened nurses around me were wiping away tears. My own throat felt tight enough to choke me. In all my years as a surgeon, I had snatched countless patients from the jaws of death. I couldn’t have lost one to a simple slip of the hand. It didn’t make sense. As I struggled for an explanation, the father’s grief curdled into rage. He rounded on us, his eyes blazing. “Which one of you was his surgeon? My son was supposed to be fine! You said it was a ninety-percent success rate! You will give me an answer, or so help me, you’ll pay with your lives!” He scanned our faces, a predator seeking his prey. One of the nurses, hoping to placate him, began to recount what had happened in the OR. The moment he heard I was the lead surgeon, that my hand had slipped and caused the fatal hemorrhage, his entire demeanor shifted. He spotted the name tag on my white coat: Dr. Evelyn Reed. His eyes locked onto mine. He shoved through the crowd and stormed towards me, yanking me forward by the collar of my coat. “You’re Dr. Evelyn Reed? You’re the one who killed my son!” His face was a mask of pure hatred, a mirror image of the one I remembered from my past life. And with his rage came Gloria’s perfectly timed, panicked cry. “Oh no! The comments! They’re saying the father is about to pull a knife and stab Dr. Reed! The blade… it’s aimed for the left side of her heart.” Her words hung in the air as the father began to drag me by my collar toward the hospital exit. He was strong, his grip like a vice. I couldn’t break free. The other staff, hearing Gloria’s prediction, started to move forward to intervene. But the father suddenly ripped a sharp paring knife from his pocket. “You doctors… you don’t care about a single life!” he roared, his voice cracking with pain. “My son was healthy! How does he just die during surgery? I don’t care anymore! Today, one of you worthless butchers is going to pay for what you did!” He pressed the cold steel of the knife against my throat, dragging me backward toward the entrance. The chill of the blade was a ghost of a memory, a phantom from my previous death. In my last life, it had played out just like this. He had dragged me outside, and in the ensuing struggle, he had driven the knife straight into my chest. This time, I could have run. I could have left the hospital before he even arrived. But if Gloria was right, if the future was truly unavoidable, then running would be pointless. He hauled me out into the open air of the hospital entrance. The medical staff followed, forming a nervous semi-circle. Gloria stood among them, her voice a placating balm. “Sir, we are all devastated by your son’s death, but he can’t be brought back. You can’t blame us for what happened. Dr. Reed is a wonderful, moral doctor. She’s saved countless lives. Your son’s death was a tragic accident.” Her words were like gasoline on a fire. “Shut up!” the father screamed. “She’s one of you! Of course you’d defend her! It was my son who died, not yours! You talk like it’s nothing!” He was sobbing now, tears streaming down his face. “He was my only child! He just graduated college! He was only twenty-five! Twenty-five years old, and he’s gone!” He brandished the knife, forcing everyone to back away. Once they were at a safe distance, the pressure on my neck eased slightly. But before I could even draw a full breath, his voice dropped to a venomous whisper in my ear. “Evelyn Reed. You incompetent butcher. You killed my son. Now you’re going to pay for it with your life.” In a flash of movement, he whipped the knife away from my throat and lunged, aiming directly for my chest. I saw the glint of the blade coming for the left side of my heart and twisted my body, trying to dodge. For a split second, I thought I’d made it. But it was as if the blade had a mind of its own, correcting its course in mid-air. His other hand shot out, clamping down on my shoulder, and he guided the knife with chilling accuracy into the exact spot Gloria had predicted. Why? I dodged it! Why did it still hit me in the exact same place? The searing pain sent my world blurring at the edges, and I didn’t have time to think. As I staggered back, hospital security, who had been circling around, finally saw their opening. They tackled the father from behind, wrestling him to the ground. “Let me go! Let me go!” he shrieked, struggling against them. “You murderers! You killed my son! I’ll kill you all!” Ignoring his crazed screams, my colleagues swarmed around me. “She’s bleeding! Get her to an OR, now!” “Where’s the gurney? Someone get a gurney!” Within seconds, a stretcher appeared. As they lifted me onto it, I could still hear the father’s curses and threats. While they rushed me back inside, their voices were a low hum of awe and fear, all directed at Gloria. “Gloria, your comments… they’re unbelievable.” “You predicted everything, down to the exact spot. It’s… terrifying.” Gloria basked in their reverence, a flicker of smug pride in her eyes before she masked it with humility. “Of course,” she murmured. We finally reached the surgical ward. Just like last time, my fiancé, Mark, came running, his face a mess of panic and fear. “Evie!” he cried, his eyes red-rimmed. “I heard you were stabbed! How bad is it? Are you okay?” I tried to speak, to tell him something, but Gloria beat me to it. She placed a gentle hand on Mark’s shoulder, her expression dripping with pity. “Mark… there’s something… I don’t know if I should say.” “What is it?” Mark demanded, his voice strained. “If it’s about Evie, just say it!” The surrounding staff fell silent, their attention fixed on Gloria. Under the weight of their gazes, she glanced at me, then shook her head sorrowfully. “Aigh, I really didn’t want to be the one to say this. Evie’s my mentor, she brought me into this hospital… But what she’s done… it’s just… I saw another comment, and I can’t believe it…” “Gloria, spit it out!” Mark snapped. “Yeah, stop drawing it out,” a colleague added. “Dr. Reed needs surgery. We don’t have time for this!” Finally, Gloria spoke. “Alright, but you all forced me. Don’t blame me for being the one to tear them apart.” She turned her pity-filled eyes to Mark. “When they get Evie into surgery,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “don’t be surprised if they find out she’s pregnant. And, Mark… the baby isn’t yours.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393286”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the eve of our company’s IPO, my fiancé, Julian Thorne, threw a lavish celebration, instructing his secretary to hand out double year-end bonuses in cash. The secretary, Monica Elwes, moved through the room with a syrupy smile, handing each employee a beautifully packaged stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills. But when she got to me, she shoved me aside. “Move. Don’t block the path.” Confused, I asked her what she meant. She just sneered and slapped a termination letter against my face. “You cheap whore, sleeping your way to the top. What makes you think you deserve a bonus? Get the hell out before you contaminate the rest of us.” As if on cue, the large screen behind her flickered to life, displaying a slideshow of intimate photos of me with various high-profile clients. It ended on a spreadsheet of the bonus distribution. The numbers burned. Everyone had received a bonus of at least six figures. Next to my name, however, was a single, glaring, blood-red zero. My fists clenched. I lifted my head and looked at Julian, standing not far away. “Are you sure you want to fire me? Tonight?” On the screen, the photos kept cycling. Me, walking shoulder to shoulder with one man; me, raising a glass with another; and the final, damning image—me, wrapped in a man’s arm, walking into a hotel. Hearing my question, Julian finally tore his eyes from the screen. He stared at me, his gaze cold and silent. “Are you sure, Julian?” I asked again. Every eye in the room turned to him, their expressions a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. He ignored them and walked slowly toward me, looking down his nose as if I were something he’d scraped off his shoe. His voice was ice. “Ava, what right do you have to be here? Every penny this company has earned was built on the hard work of these people. You are the sole exception.” “Did I not give you enough money? Or not enough love, that you had to humiliate me like this?” he hissed. “Don’t you dare tell me these men are the reason you refused to quit and be a stay-at-home wife for me!” He ripped a stack of printed photos from his pocket and threw them in my face. The sharp edges of the photo paper cut my cheek, and they scattered across the floor. A sharp sting, and when I touched my face, my fingers came away red. “This IPO is a moment of glory for our company,” he declared. “I will not allow a degenerate parasite like you to tarnish it. Not even if you are my fiancée.” Looking at the cold, proud man before me, I assumed this was all a terrible misunderstanding born from those pictures. I tried to explain. “Julian, they might not believe me, but you? You don’t believe me either? My accomplishments, my portfolio—I earned every bit of it myself. It has nothing to do with those photos.” “Earned it yourself?” Monica interjected, her voice dripping with scorn. “What exactly did you earn on your own? Your skills in the bedroom? We’ve all heard about your… in-depth collaborations with clients.” A wave of snickering rippled through the room. Someone muttered, “Yeah, who knows how many clients she had to sleep with for those contracts. And to think we used to admire her, even tried to learn from her.” When the wall starts to fall, everyone gives it a push. I couldn’t believe colleagues I’d considered friends were so eager to kick me when I was down. I gritted my teeth, fighting to stay calm. “Those photos prove nothing. It was all just normal business.” “Normal business? In a hotel bed?” Monica bent down and picked up the photo of me being led into the hotel. “This is a high-definition video still, you know. Should I play the whole thing for everyone?” I stared at the picture, and a sudden, bitter laugh escaped my lips. The man in the photo was my brother. I’d gotten drunk that night. I’d meant to call Julian to pick me up, but I’d misdialed and called my brother instead. He happened to be in town, sent by our parents to try and convince me to end my feud with them. He arrived just in time to rescue me from a group of predatory men. He had taken me to a hotel to sober up, and someone with a camera and a grudge had been waiting. It all made sense now. The way Julian had been so hot and cold ever since that night. He had a lot of patience, I’ll give him that. He waited until I had secured every major client for him, until I had secretly used my family’s influence to push his company toward its IPO, before finally making his move. His lack of trust was a deep disappointment, but he was the first man I had ever truly loved. I didn’t want a misunderstanding to be the end of us. I didn’t want my parents to find out that the great, passionate love I’d run away for had died so miserably. I had fled the capital to escape an arranged marriage. I wanted to choose my own partner, to build something with him, side-by-side, not enter into a loveless corporate merger. I’d never told anyone this, not even Julian. I was afraid that if he knew I was the heiress to one of the city’s most powerful families, he would feel insecure, inferior, crushed by the pressure. All my life, men had been drawn to my status. I hated their calculated flattery. What I loved was the way Julian’s eyes used to shine like a galaxy of stars when he looked at me. The memory of that long-gone sweetness made me laugh again. “What are you laughing at?” Julian scowled, his tone laced with disgust. “How can you possibly laugh at a time like this?” I lifted my head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you really think I’m the kind of woman who sleeps her way to the top?” “What else am I supposed to think?” he sneered. “You think there’s anything else about you worth a second glance?” It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my heart, making it hard to breathe. I took a deep breath. “The man in that photo,” I said slowly, “is my brother.” “Your brother?” Monica burst out laughing. “Do you think we’re idiots? You adopt a ‘godbrother’ and call him family? Is that what you call every man you sleep with? ‘Brother’? I have to admit, it has a certain kinky ring to it.” The laughter in the room grew louder, more vicious. Someone whistled. Julian’s eyes were filled with contempt. “Enough. Stop embarrassing yourself. Take your termination letter and get out. From this moment on, you and I are finished.” I clutched the paper, a chill spreading through my chest. For five years, I had hidden my identity, working as a rank-and-file employee to pave his way, to help him build his empire. And now that I had single-handedly pushed him to the summit, he was ready to kill the donkey now that the grinding was done. Fine. I could handle losing. I’d just write off the last five years of my life as a gift to a dog. “Julian,” I whispered, “you’re going to regret this.” He heard me and laughed as if it were the funniest joke in the world. “Regret it? The only thing I regret is ever meeting a treacherous slut like you.” He held out his hand to Monica. They exchanged a triumphant smile and walked, hand in hand, to the center of the ballroom. Only then did I notice that his bespoke suit and her low-cut evening gown were a matching set. He raised their entwined hands high. “Tomorrow,” he announced, his voice booming with confidence, “we will welcome the most important moment in this company’s history—our IPO! This wouldn’t be possible without every one of you. Let’s continue to build a glorious future together!” The room erupted in thunderous applause and cheers. I could clearly hear the fawning comments about what a golden couple he and Monica were. Julian’s gaze swept over me for a fraction of a second before moving on, as if I were a complete stranger. Looking at the man I had loved for five years, I finally understood why my parents always said I had terrible taste in men. They were right. I was completely blind. I never even realized my fiancé was sleeping with his secretary. But being the daughter of the Jiang family, being blind in love didn’t mean I was incompetent. I could raise him to the heavens, and I could just as easily make him fall.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393285”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At my son’s one-month celebration, my sister Laura burst in, covered in blood. She collapsed to her knees before me, thrusting a DNA test into my hands as she slammed her head against the floor. “Luna, I promised I’d keep your secret, that I’d protect you and your lover,” she wailed. “But why did you try to kill me? Why did you kill Mom and Dad? Do I have to die for you to finally feel safe?” My husband, Joey, tore the DNA report to shreds. He demanded a divorce on the spot. Our son was sent to an orphanage, and I was sent to a private mental institution by Joey and my four older brothers for “rehabilitation.” For a year, I endured extreme treatments. I was a plaything for the wealthy sons of the elite, a canvas for their cruelty. My body was beaten black and blue, and I was forced to carry and then lose five children. They only let me out when Joey and my sister’s wedding was announced. By then, I just smiled vacantly, clutching a pillow to my chest, rocking it gently as if it were my baby. I walked out of the institution, still holding my pillow. My four brothers and Joey were waiting impatiently, leaning against a gleaming Maybach. The moment I emerged, a swarm of reporters descended, their cameras flashing like a volley of gunfire. The smallest-sized dress hung on my skeletal frame like a shroud. A single, gentle push from the crowd was enough to send me sprawling to the ground. They backed away, but their words closed in, sharp as knives. “Luna Sterling! You murdered your own parents and destroyed your sister’s chance to ever be a mother! Do you think playing the victim will win you any sympathy?” “If your sister wasn’t so forgiving, a cheating, venomous bitch like you would be on death row!” “You killed your own parents for a secret lover!” A piercing pain shot up my leg, mingling with the venom of their words, all of it flooding my heart. But I didn’t dare say a word in my defense. I just clutched my pillow tighter and bowed my head to the ground, slamming it against the pavement again and again. “I was wrong. I’m guilty. I’m a slut. I shouldn’t have killed Mom and Dad. I shouldn’t have hurt my sister…” After a year of torture, I no longer had the strength to fight back. Every denial, every plea of innocence, had only earned me more violent electrocutions, more brutal beatings. When I was finally a limp, broken thing on the floor, unable to make a sound, the rich boys would have their turn with me. They were all delinquents, sent to the institution not for treatment, but to hide from the consequences of their crimes. They loved watching a fresh flower be torn apart until it withered. The only difference between me and the other victims was that they were dead whores, and I was a living one. Because my four brothers and my ex-husband wouldn’t let me die. Their cold, merciless voices were a constant loop in the headphones they forced on me. “Luna, you worthless bitch, you deserve to die a thousand deaths. You killed our parents, you maimed our sister. You will atone.” My forehead hit the concrete. A warm liquid trickled down, blurring my vision with a crimson haze that finally, mercifully, blocked out the five figures I feared most. A polished leather shoe stopped my head from hitting the ground again. Joey used the toe of his shoe to lift my chin, his voice raining down on me from above. “Luna. You brought this on yourself.” The familiar sound sent a violent, uncontrollable tremor through my entire body. “I was wrong, I was really wrong, please don’t hit me, I’ll confess, I’ll be good, please, just let me go…” Joey’s eyes filled with a thick, syrupy disgust. He bent down, snatched the pillow from my arms, and used it to roughly wipe the blood from my forehead, forcing me to look at him. “A year, Luna. And your acting has improved dramatically. Sending you to that institution instead of prison was too lenient, I see.” His voice was laced with scorn. “Everyone knows that place is a safe house for spoiled brats. What new game are you playing now?” The emptiness in my arms sent a wave of panic through me. I crawled toward the blood-soaked pillow, my voice a broken whisper. “It’s okay, baby, don’t be scared… Mommy will protect you…” My four brothers closed in, shielding me from the flashing cameras. “Luna! Are you still obsessed with that bastard child? It seems you’re not too happy about the ‘rehabilitation’ we arranged for you. You ungrateful wretch!” My eldest brother, Ethan, kicked me square in the chest. A metallic tang filled my mouth, and I spat a spray of blood onto the pillow, where it mingled with the blood from my forehead. Ethan paused for a second, then sneered. “You deserve an Oscar for this performance, Luna. You even brought your own blood packet.” “It seems a year wasn’t punishment enough.” The crowd murmured. “I’m dying to know who this mystery lover is. To have the great Luna Sterling still so devoted to him after all this…” All eyes turned to Joey, the cuckolded husband. His face, already dark with disgust, turned black as thunder. I knew that look. It was the storm before the hurricane. Enraging any of them meant more pain. Instinct took over. I swallowed the blood in my mouth and continued my desperate, incoherent pleas. “I was wrong… I shouldn’t have seduced another man… I’m guilty, I deserve to die… Just don’t hit me, you can do whatever you want, just please, let me go…” I mechanically repeated the words, mechanically started to pull at my own clothes, a programmed response to their rage. I didn’t even know who this “other man” was supposed to be. I didn’t know why my parents had died, or why my son was suddenly a “bastard child.” I didn’t know what I had done to make the sister I had adored turn on me with such venom. Joey’s eyes blazed with fury. He stopped my hands as I tried to tear off my dress. “Luna, look what you’ve become in just one year. What a pathetic slut.” “What right do you have to ask us for mercy?” He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped the hand that had touched me, and a cruel smile twisted his lips. My brothers, snapping out of their shock at my bizarre behavior, spoke as one. “Since you still haven’t realized your mistakes, we will be the ones to judge and punish you.” Joey opened the trunk of the car and pulled out a set of items he had prepared in advance. He turned to the cameras, his voice cold. “When the livestream hits one million viewers, the trial will begin.” So this was their plan. They weren’t here to release me. They were here to begin the next phase of my punishment. The news that the powerful Sterling and Thorne families were joining forces to publicly punish me, the disgraced heiress, sent viewership skyrocketing. The comments flooded in, a torrent of demands for the show to begin. To satisfy their curiosity, Ethan spoke first. “Luna, since you can’t remember what you did wrong, allow me to refresh your memory.” As his lips moved, the image of my parents’ fiery car crash flashed through my mind. I had only learned the details after I was institutionalized. On their way to my son’s celebration, their car had somehow spun out of control, slamming into a guardrail. The fuel tank ruptured, and the car was instantly engulfed in flames. The fire had consumed the car, a pillar of black smoke and roaring heat. My parents were trapped inside. Ethan held up his phone and played a recording. It was the sound of my parents’ final, agonizing screams, captured by Laura. The screams pierced my eardrums, my heart. I shut my eyes, but I could see their faces, twisting in the flames, their hands beating desperately against the windows. I had been forced to listen to this recording thousands of times, but it still shattered me. The pain of their death was a wound that would never heal. And what made it unbearable was that everyone believed I was the one who had tampered with their car. The live chat was a waterfall of hate, every comment a dagger in my heart. “Murderer! How dare you still be alive?” “Your parents must have had the worst luck in the world to have a daughter like you.” “A vicious bitch like you should burn in hell!” “You kill your own parents and then play the victim? Disgusting!” I stared at the words, my heart twisting. I wanted to scream that I didn’t do it, but I knew no one would believe me. I was a pariah, a monster in their eyes. I curled into a ball on the ground, hugging the bloody pillow as if it were my only lifeline. Tears streamed silently down my face, mixing with the blood. “I’m sorry, Mom, Dad… I’m so sorry…” I whispered. “I don’t know why this happened…” Ethan’s voice cut through my grief, cold and merciless. “You think playing pathetic will save you, Luna? You killed our parents. You ruined your sister’s life. Did you really think you could escape justice?” I looked up at his merciless face, and my world dissolved into despair. The viewer count was still climbing. They were all hungry for the spectacle. They were all waiting to see me punished. I knew there was no escape. I wanted to die, but if I did, my son in that orphanage would truly be alone. He was just like me, a poor soul abandoned by his own family. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, my body trembling as I waited for the torture to begin. “Let’s start,” Joey announced coldly. My nightmare was only just beginning.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393284”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel