Author: Momo Chan

The new transfer student was magnetic. But my childhood friend, Liam, said her behavior was just a desperate cry for attention. Then, one night, I was crumpled on the floor, paralyzed by cramps. He stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. “Do you have any idea,” he slurred, “that if I hadn’t come to get you, I would’ve had her tonight?” I froze. Later, he blocked my path on the way to school, his face a mask of confusion. “Quinn,” he pleaded, “why are you ignoring me?” 1 The new transfer student, Maya, caused a stir the moment she arrived. The low-cut tank top she wore under her uniform revealed the edge of an intricate tattoo just above her chest. The second class ended, a swarm of boys surrounded her desk, all trying to start a conversation. The only one who didn’t join the frenzy was Liam. He walked over to me instead. A smile played on his lips. “Come on, Quinn. Let’s go get you a carton of chocolate milk.” On the way to the vending machine, I asked him, “Don’t you think the new girl is cool?” Liam’s brow furrowed. “Stay away from her, Quinn. To guys, that’s not ‘cool.’ That’s just being easy.” I didn’t answer. He grabbed my arm. “Did you hear me? A girl like that… she’s cheap.” I just nodded. When we got back to class, the crowd of boys had dispersed. I was surprised to see Maya had moved seats. She was now sitting next to Liam’s empty desk. She smiled and extended a hand toward him as he approached. “Hi there, new deskmate.” The next second, Liam’s hand was in hers. Maya turned her head, and her eyes met mine. For a fleeting moment, our gazes locked. Then, she broke into a wide, triumphant grin. 2 After school, I was packing my bag when I noticed Liam, who was usually the first one out the door, hadn’t moved. Maya was propped on her elbows, gazing at him with an expression of pure adoration. Liam’s eyes found mine. “Hey, Quinn, you head home by yourself today. I’m helping Maya with her homework.” My hands stilled. My gaze flickered to Maya. She gave me a sheepish smile. “Everyone says you and your ‘Prince Liam’ are childhood sweethearts. Mind if I borrow him for a bit? Just to help me with my English?” She winked. “I’ll buy you ice cream tomorrow, little sis.” Liam chuckled. “Why aren’t you buying me ice cream?” Maya leaned so far into him that her body was practically draped over his. “With our relationship,” she purred, “you should be the one buying it for me.” Had they really gotten that close in just one afternoon? I said nothing. I just turned and walked away. As I reached the doorway, I heard Maya’s voice. “Uh oh, is your little wifey upset?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “That’s just a joke everyone in class goes with.” “Hehe, so not your little wifey, huh?” My heart hammered against my ribs, a sour ache spreading through my chest. I walked faster. 3 When I got home, Liam’s mom was already waiting downstairs, just like every other day. She greeted me with a warm smile. “You two rascals, why so late today?” Her eyes scanned the street behind me. “Hey? Quinn, where’s Liam? Why are you by yourself?” I kept my head down, afraid she’d see my red-rimmed eyes if I looked up. “He had something to do.” I sidestepped her and bolted into the building. “What’s wrong, Quinn?” she called after me. “Did Liam bully you? I’ll give him a good talking to for you!” 4 It had always been like this. For as long as I can remember, Liam’s mom had treated me like her own. “Quinn is my future daughter-in-law,” she’d declare. “No one gets to bully her, not even my own son!” When we were in elementary school, there was a trend of buying gold lockets for your “future daughter-in-law.” Without a second thought, Liam’s mom bought one for me. It was a tiny, perfect gold ax charm. My mom said it was too expensive and told me I couldn’t accept it, but Mrs. Anderson insisted, fastening it around my neck herself. Liam’s eyes had crinkled with laughter. “See, Quinn? Now you’re officially my little wifey. You can’t run away now!” It’s embarrassing, really. It seems I was the only one who ever took it seriously. 5 The next morning, I didn’t wait for him like I usually did. I went to school early, alone. My deskmate, Trista, was surprised. “Hey, Quinn. Where’s your other half?” I didn’t say anything, but my eyes drifted uncontrollably to Liam’s empty seat. Trista’s face lit up with understanding. “Ah, you two had a fight.” A moment later, she nudged me. “Look, here comes your knight in shining armor. He’s got breakfast. Definitely an apology offering.” I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. If Liam apologized, maybe I could forgive what he’d said about me and Maya… Just then, Maya came jogging into the school from the other side of the courtyard. She called out his name. Liam stopped. He handed her the breakfast he was holding, a wide, undisguisable smile on his face. Trista’s jaw dropped. “What the hell is going on?” I tore my eyes away and opened my textbook. Liam and Maya walked into the classroom, laughing and talking as they sat down. He didn’t even glance in my direction. Trista fell silent. 6 During gym class, the boys were playing basketball. Maya came back from the snack bar with an ice cream cone. As if by some cruel coincidence, she tripped right in front of me. The ice cream landed, with perfect precision, right on my brand new skirt. Trista gasped. “You did that on purpose, Maya!” Maya looked at me, but there wasn’t a hint of apology in her eyes. “Oops, my bad, Quinn,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. Trista immediately stepped in front of me. “What is wrong with you? Just because you’ve latched onto Liam, you think you can provoke Quinn? Don’t you know they’ve been practically inseparable since they were kids? You really think you can come between them?” Before Trista could finish, a basketball came flying toward us, whistling past her ear. She let out a terrified shriek. Liam jogged over. He pulled Maya behind him, shielding her, his voice sharp and accusatory. “Quinn, are you bullying her?” I stared at him. His face was a mask of impatience. The sour ache in my chest suddenly went numb. “Are you blind, Liam?” He froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. In all our years, even during our worst fights, I had never spoken to him like that. Maya tugged on his arm, her voice a whiny drawl. “Don’t fight, you guys. It was my fault. I’ll apologize, okay?” She prattled on. “I know you and Quinn are a couple. I won’t make things difficult for you.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Liam cut her off, his eyes still locked on me, cold and hard. “That was all a joke. How could I ever be with someone who can’t take a hint?” He picked up the basketball and started walking away. Maya giggled and skipped after him. “What do you mean, ‘can’t take a hint’? You’re just talking nonsense.” The wind whipped across the field, a cold gust that chilled me to the bone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393263”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three months after William Thorne got back together with his ex, he suddenly asked about me. “Has Sera been hiding away, crying her eyes out again these past few days?” His friends exchanged glances. “Come to think of it, we haven’t seen her in ages.” “Didn’t I hear she got married a while back?” “No way. That’s just a rumor, probably a desperate ploy to get William’s attention.” William’s voice was cool and detached. “Go tell her to meet me at the usual place tonight.” His friends started to whoop and holler. “If she shows up crying, you gonna go soft on her, William?” He let out a soft, dismissive laugh. “We’ll see.” But that night, I never came. I waited until the city was draped in the deep blue of late night, and still, there was no sign of me. He called my phone. I didn’t answer. He had a girlfriend, and I was a married woman. It was better to keep our distance. 1 The day William Thorne and his ex-girlfriend, Melina Vance, got back together was my birthday. Just as I was about to cut the cake, the door to the private room was thrown open with a violent shove. It was Melina again. The one who had nearly driven William to self-destruction. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her dress and makeup flawless, every strand of her hair seeming to catch and hold the light. My first instinct was to hide my hands behind my back, but the rough calluses on my fingers snagged on the delicate silk threads of my dress. “William.” Melina pushed past one of our friends, her designer skirt swishing as she rushed toward him. “I give up,” she declared, her voice ringing through the sudden silence. “I’m waving the white flag this time.” Though her words were of surrender, she held her chin high, a queen refusing to let her crown slip, fighting back the tears that welled in her eyes. The room was dead quiet. I couldn’t help but look at William. He sat on the sofa, his expression a mask of cold indifference. He hadn’t even glanced at Melina, but the hard line of his jaw told a different story. “William, I’m only going to ask you this once,” Melina’s voice trembled. “Do you want me back, or not?” A dry, cynical laugh escaped William’s lips. “Who do you think you are, Melina? You break up with me when you want, and you get back with me when you want?” As he spoke, he reached out, yanking me into his lap. The movement was so abrupt that my nose slammed into his solid chest, the impact sending a jolt of pain so sharp it made my eyes water. “Can’t you see I have a girlfriend, Melina?” William’s voice was a low growl. He dipped his head, and his lips found the damp corner of my eye where a tear was forming. The color drained from Melina’s face. “Fine. You’re ruthless.” She pointed a shaking finger at him, tears finally streaming down her cheeks. “William Thorne, I swear I am done with you for good this time!” Her furious gaze then landed on me, a look of pure venom, before she spun around and shoved the table with all her might. The champagne tower crashed to the floor in a symphony of shattering glass. The cake, my beautiful birthday cake, was now a ruined mess on the carpet. Shards of glass flew through the air, cutting both of us. A deep gash on her arm, and for me, a slice across my face. But in that instant, William let go of me. His immediate reaction was to grab her. “Don’t move. You’re bleeding,” he said, his eyes filled with a raw, undeniable ache for her. “Don’t touch me! Go worry about your precious little girlfriend!” Melina cried, shoving him away before running out of the room. It was as if I’d become invisible. William stood frozen for only two seconds before he bolted after her, not even sparing me a single backward glance. 2 Maybe it was to spare me the embarrassment. Or maybe, more likely, it was because they were William and Melina’s friends. I was just an outsider, someone who didn’t belong in their world. One by one, they all trickled out, leaving me alone in the room. I stood there in my pretty dress, my hand pressed to the stinging cut on my face. A tide of grief, dark and silent, began to swallow me whole. This was meant to be the grandest, most extravagant birthday of my life. That beautiful, two-tiered cake… I had stared at its twin through the bakery window countless times as a child, dreaming of what it would taste like. I almost had it. But now, it was just a ruin on the floor. I knelt, found a piece that was still clean, and took a bite. It didn’t taste as magical as I’d imagined. It wasn’t even as good as the cheap cupcakes I sometimes bought. Still, I ate the whole piece. Just as I finished, my phone rang. It was William. “Seraphina.” His voice came through the receiver, and in the background, I could faintly hear Melina’s. “I’m here,” I whispered. “There’s something I need to tell you. Please, just… don’t cry.” It was true, I cried easily. It was like I was born with tear ducts that were a little too close to the surface. “William, are you serious?” Melina’s voice, sharp with anger, cut through. “You’re breaking up with her, and you’re still trying to comfort her?” William’s tone became rushed. “Let’s break up. They said your face got cut. I’ll send you some money.” He added, his voice low and hurried, “Don’t make a scene. It’ll be more money than your father makes fishing for three years.” Before I could say a word, he hung up. 3 William had always been generous. I’d heard stories about his past girlfriends; he showered them with gifts while they were dating and gave them a hefty severance package when it was over. My best friend, Ruby, practically twisted my ear as she lectured me. “Don’t you dare be stupid, Sera.” “Only an idiot would turn down the money.” “You got dumped on your birthday, and your face was nearly ruined. The fact that we’re not suing him for emotional distress is us being merciful.” The cut, stretching from my forehead to the corner of my eye, began to heal slowly, but the money from William never arrived. I tried to contact him and Melina for an explanation, but I couldn’t even get past their gatekeepers. Instead, I got a vicious verbal beatdown from Melina and her circle of friends. Just as I was about to go to the police, my family ran into trouble. My dad owns a small fishing boat. A few days ago, out on the water, a storm kicked up and his boat scraped against someone’s private yacht. The owner was demanding a huge sum for repairs. Money we didn’t have. If we couldn’t pay, my dad would go to jail. If the compensation William had promised was anything like the legends, it would have been just enough to cover the damages. My dad was so stressed his hair seemed to turn grayer overnight. I transferred all my savings from part-time jobs and scholarships to him, but it was a drop in the ocean. Ruby, fed up with my hesitation, snatched my phone and sent a message to William. His call came almost immediately. But when I answered, it was Melina’s voice on the other end. 4 “Seraphina, is it?” Her voice dripped with contempt. “So pathetic. I guess poor people really have no shame.” “Wasn’t leeching off him enough? You still have the audacity to ask for compensation?” “You women from fishing villages… you really know how to hook a man and reel in the cash, don’t you?” My face burned with humiliation. I wanted to fight back, to say something, but my words caught in my throat, and tears started to fall. How could she say that to me? We had been dating for less than a year, and nearly every fight we ever had was because of her. The first time, he abandoned me on the side of the road in the middle of the night because of her. I was terrified. We gave each other the silent treatment for two weeks, and I cried for two weeks straight. The second time, he flew off to Europe to chase her down and was unreachable for a week. I had decided then and there to break up with him. But he came back a wreck and got into a minor car accident. His friends called me, over and over, telling me he wanted to see me. I saw him, and my resolve melted. The third time was my birthday. My face was almost permanently scarred. The doctor said if the cut had been half a centimeter over, I would have lost my eye. Didn’t they owe me for that? “I’m just asking for what I’m owed,” I said, forcing the words through my sobs. “You’re the one who scarred my face.” “But you’re not disfigured, are you?” Melina scoffed, then hung up with a sharp click. A moment later, a notification popped up. A transfer of five thousand dollars from William’s account. I clutched my phone, tears dripping onto the screen. In the end, out of a stubborn sense of pride, I refused the transfer. Accepting that money would have been settling. I was a poor girl from a fishing village; I couldn’t win a fight against a prince and princess like them. But I swore to myself, one day, I would make Melina Vance pay for what she did. 5 The deadline to pay for the yacht came and went, and we still hadn’t raised enough money. Then, the owner of the yacht showed up at our house. I found it strange. Weren’t people that rich supposed to be busy? Why would he personally come all the way to our small town over something like this? Was he afraid we’d abandon the boat and run? I snuck a glance at the man. The watch on his wrist was a brand William had mentioned once. It was worth at least eight figures. I couldn’t make sense of it, so I stopped trying. I just stood beside my father and brother, our heads bowed, hoping he’d show some mercy. And this man, Nathaniel Vance, did more than show mercy. My father was stunned. “You’re… you’re giving me a new fishing boat?” My brother was trembling with excitement. “You mean… I can open a shop on shore? I don’t have to fish anymore?” A new, state-of-the-art, fully automated fishing boat was my father’s lifelong dream. Opening a small shop and settling down was my brother’s. “Correct,” Nathaniel said, his gaze landing on me. He got straight to the point. “On one condition: she marries me.” He pointed at me. “She has a lucky star. An astrologer I trust told me that marrying her this year will double my assets.” My father and brother both turned to me. “Sera, what do you think?” I was completely dumbfounded. Nathaniel looked to be in his late twenties. He was handsome and well-built, though he had a stern look on his face when he wasn’t smiling. A billionaire with a towering frame and a sharp suit… by any measure, I was getting the better end of this deal. I swallowed nervously. “My dad gets a new boat, and my brother gets a shop. What’s in it for me?” Nathaniel paused, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, and then he smiled. When he smiled, his stern features softened, revealing a surprising warmth and elegance. I felt my cheeks grow hot and quickly looked away. He waved a hand, and an assistant brought in several boxes of small cakes. They were delicious-smelling cupcakes. The kind I could eat three of in one sitting. Clutching a box of cakes, I asked him the most important questions I could think of. “Your last name is Vance. Do you know a Melina Vance?” Nathaniel thought for a moment. “I believe there’s someone by that name among the junior members of a branch family.” “Is she… afraid of you?” The smile in his eyes deepened. “Her entire family is most likely very afraid of me.” “In Port Sterling… is the Vance family more powerful than the Thorne family?” “By a significant margin.” “Okay, then.” I hugged the cupcakes tighter and nodded firmly. “I accept.” “But I’m still in college. Can we… wait to get married?” Nathaniel’s gaze was deep as he looked at me, a soft smile playing on his lips. “We can get the license now. The wedding can wait until after you graduate.” I held up my hand to him. “Deal.” Nathaniel shook my hand. “A pleasure, Mrs. Vance.” My face flushed. “Maybe you should just call me by my name for now. I’d rather not go public with this yet.” Nathaniel stood up. He was so tall. I had to crane my neck to look at him. “Of course, Sera.” Hearing him say my name felt… different. So different that my ears were still burning long after he’d gone. 6 I’d occasionally run into William and Melina on campus. Sometimes they were the picture of a perfect couple, all lovey-dovey. Other times they were fighting. But they always made up quickly. I started to actively avoid them. Many students whispered behind my back that I had fumbled the bag, letting a golden goose slip through my fingers. They assumed I was consumed with jealousy over Melina. But none of them knew my little secret. Often, I would wake up in the middle of the night, open my banking app, and stare at the astronomical sum Nathaniel had given me as a betrothal gift. I would count the zeroes over and over again until I drifted back to sleep, completely content. Summer break arrived quickly. I went home to fish with my dad, completely removing myself from William’s world. So, I was surprised when one of his friends called me. After a bit of small talk, he finally got to the point. “Sera, the usual place tonight. William wants to see you.” I was about to refuse. “Dress up, wear something pretty, okay?” he added conspiratorially. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: William and Melina are done. For real this time.” “This is your chance. Seize it.” He hung up before I could even get a word in. My dad was calling me to help with the nets. I quickly forgot all about the phone call. 7 His friend returned, clapping William on the shoulder with a grin. “Just got off the phone with Sera.” The others immediately started their teasing. “So, William, if she shows up crying, you gonna go soft on her?” William tapped the ash from his cigarette, a slight smile on his lips. “We’ll see.” “But seriously, man,” one of them said, “Sera’s way easier to be with than Melina.” “Yeah, Sera’s a sweetheart.” “Remember when you had that car accident? The way she rushed to the hospital?” “She started bawling the second she walked into the room. It was heartbreaking to watch.” William seemed to drift back to that memory, a flicker of softness entering his eyes. “You and Melina have been all over each other lately. Sera’s probably been crying her eyes out in private.” “The last time I saw her, she looked like she’d lost a lot of weight. And you could still see the scar above her eye.” The hand holding the cigarette paused mid-air. Sera had been hurt that day, too. How could he have been so callous, just leaving her there? But Sera was sweet. She was easy to soothe. He went home and changed into a crisp white shirt. Sera loved him in white shirts.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393262”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was trampled by a spooked horse, my body left broken on the cobblestones. The two men who had sworn to protect me with their lives didn’t even turn their heads. One was busy solving riddles at a festival stall, all to win the lotus-blossom lantern that Princess Seraphina admired. The other was waiting in line for two hours to buy her favorite rosewater tarts. A stranger helped me to the healer’s ward. It was a miracle I survived. Three days later, Seraphina came to my chambers, swinging the lantern triumphantly. “Aveline, darling,” she cooed, “I told them you’d like this lantern too, but they insisted on giving it to me. Do you want it now?” I looked at her, my gaze as cold as ash. “No.” And the two of them? I was done with them, too. For more than a decade, they had been my shadows, my sworn protectors, my closest friends. Drake and Brishen. They promised their lives for my safety. And I, like a fool, had believed them. I thought I couldn’t live without them. But that was before Princess Seraphina arrived. That was before I realized how tragically wrong I had been. Limping, I returned to my father’s estate and finally relented to my mother’s incessant pressure. “I will do it,” I told her. “I will marry the Crown Prince.” 1 My mother’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelieving joy. “Aveline? You truly mean it?” “Oh, my dear girl! I’ve been telling you for years, you are the perfect choice for Crown Princess! When Prince Alistair ascends the throne, you will be the Queen, a mother to the entire kingdom.” Her voice was a flurry of excitement. “Why have you been wasting your time with those two? One is a Duke’s son, the other a General’s heir, but how can they possibly compare to the Crown Prince?” “Now that you’ve agreed, I’ll start arranging your dowry at once! You will have the most magnificent wedding this city has ever seen!” Just as I nodded, two figures appeared in the doorway. Drake and Brishen exchanged a look, a shared, arrogant smirk playing on their lips. “Aveline,” Brishen drawled, “who did you just say was getting married?” I had no intention of lying. My face was a placid mask. “I am.” “Ha! Lady Aveline has always been such a good, quiet girl. Since when did you learn to tell such fanciful tales?” Brishen let out a short, mocking laugh. Drake, ever the more serious of the two, still didn’t believe me. “There’s no point in lying, Aveline. Is this because we’ve been distant lately? Are you jealous of Seraphina? Is this your little ploy to get our attention?” I remained silent, my only wish for them to leave. But then, they produced a lantern from behind their backs. “Surprise!” “We know we lost track of you at the festival, that you snuck back home on your own, but we still brought you a lantern!” Brishen said with a grin, tossing a battered, sad-looking thing at me. I recognized it instantly. It wasn’t a gift they had chosen for me. It was the one Seraphina had paraded around with three days ago, the one she’d grown tired of and discarded. How thoughtful of them to pick up her trash for me. I didn’t reach for it. My voice was ice. “I’m not feeling well. Please, leave.” Drake and Brishen glanced at each other, but made no move to go. Instead, Brishen stepped forward and gave my shoulder a hard, playful shove. “Ah!” The blow landed directly on my barely-healed injury. A sharp cry of pain escaped my lips. Brishen looked at me, bewildered. “What are you playing at? Acting like you’re seriously hurt? It’s not a good look, Aveline.” He scoffed. “If Seraphina were here, even if she were truly wounded, she wouldn’t make such a fuss. The difference between you two is like night and day.” Drake nodded in agreement. “He’s right. Seraphina would never be so petty.” A cold, bitter laugh welled up inside me. They truly thought this was about jealousy. They thought I couldn’t stand Seraphina. They had no idea I had already given up on them entirely. “Then go find your precious Seraphina,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “She was a princess of the old court, raised in a palace. Naturally, she’s far superior to a provincial girl like me.” With that, I gestured for my lady’s maid to help me, and I turned my back on them. I could feel their bewildered eyes on my limping form. “When did Aveline become like this?” Brishen’s voice followed me, laced with disdain. “So small-minded, and such a flair for the dramatic. She should join a traveling theater troupe!” Drake sighed in disappointment. “If she doesn’t want our company, then it’s her loss. This hibiscus cake was a gift from the Prince’s own kitchens. Let’s take it to Seraphina instead.” 2 Three days later, it was my birthday. Unlike previous years, my mother personally oversaw the preparations, inviting the wives and daughters of the kingdom’s most powerful noble families. I glanced at the guest list and felt it was far too grand. “Mother, perhaps something simpler would be better?” She waved away my concern. “Nonsense, Aveline. You are the daughter of the Lord Chancellor. For years, you’ve let those two boys throw you paltry celebrations. They were hardly fit for our station! Now that you are to be the Crown Princess, your birthday must be celebrated with the dignity it deserves.” With that, she bustled off to continue her arrangements. I stood by the window, lost in thought. As fate would have it, Seraphina and I shared a birthday. Before she came into our lives, Drake and Brishen’s world revolved around me. They would scour the entire capital, spending fortunes just to find a gift they knew I would love. They fretted over every detail of my birthday, terrified of disappointing me, ready to pluck the stars from the sky if I asked. But everything changed last year, when Princess Seraphina, of the deposed royal line, was granted a pardon. For her service in exposing traitors to the new crown, she was given a title and an estate. It was I who had taken pity on her lonely state, introducing her to my two dearest friends, asking them to look after her. I never imagined her ambition ran so deep, that she would methodically, piece by piece, steal my place in their lives. Especially when they learned her birthday was the same as mine. From then on, all their efforts were bent on pleasing her. Last year, they gave her a pair of priceless jade bracelets. I received nothing. So this year, I expected nothing. The next morning, my lady’s maid, Elara, ran to me, her eyes red from crying. “My lady, I went to invite Lord Drake and Lord Brishen, just as I do every year. They both refused to come! They said they were going to Princess Seraphina’s estate!” Her voice trembled with indignation. “All these years, they only ever came to your celebration! How could they? Men’s hearts are so fickle.” I listened quietly, my own heart a placid lake. “Don’t speak of this again,” I said softly. I dressed and joined my mother in the grand hall to receive our guests. They were all powerful figures, and upon learning I was to be the Crown Princess, they fawned over me with compliments and gifts. Of course, there were whispers. “Didn’t she used to be inseparable from the heirs of House Thorne and House Valerius?” “Everyone assumed she would marry one of them. Who would have thought she’d land the Crown Prince!” “Hmph. A woman of such loose morals, and the Prince still wants her?” “She spent years cavorting with two other men. Who knows if she’s even… untouched?” “Hush, lower your voice!” Elara, bristling with anger, made to confront them, but I placed a gentle hand on her arm. “It’s not worth our breath.” It was only then that I realized how skewed the world’s perception of me had become. After the last guest had departed, I was about to retire when I heard a noise from my private courtyard. The main gates were closed. Someone had climbed the wall. My hand flew to the dagger hidden in my sleeve, thinking it was a thief. But the figures standing before me were Drake and Brishen. And behind them, a smiling Seraphina. “Aveline! We’ve been waiting for you for ages!” Seraphina chirped. “We waited for your guests to leave so we could celebrate with you properly!” “Look! The boys made me this birthday cake, but it’s far too big for me to eat alone, so I brought it to share!” From beneath her cloak, Seraphina produced half of a leftover cake, marred with bite marks and the imprint of teeth. 3 I stared at her, saying nothing. Beside me, Elara was seething. “My lady would never eat someone’s leftovers! This is an insult!” Seraphina’s face instantly hardened. Her eyes flashed as she raised a hand and slapped Elara across the cheek. “I am speaking to your mistress! How dare a servant interrupt?!” Seeing Elara struck, a roar filled my ears. My own hand shot out, striking Seraphina with twice the force. “My lady’s maid,” I hissed, “is not for others to discipline.” I pulled Elara behind me, my heart aching at the red mark blooming on her face. My anger surged. The last time we met, I had made it clear that it was the end, that we should not see each other again. But they thought I was throwing a childish tantrum. They didn’t believe me. And now they show up at my door, insulting me with a half-eaten cake and striking my maid? This, I could not endure. Drake and Brishen were instantly enraged. “Aveline! How could you strike her?” “Seraphina is delicate! A blow like that could seriously injure her!” They fussed over her, cooing and soothing. Seraphina, clutching her cheek, began to sob prettily. “Brishen, Drake, my darlings,” she whimpered. “I told you Aveline would be too proud for my little cake. See? Now she’s truly angry.” “It’s all my fault. Perhaps I should go to the West End now, wait in line, and buy her a new one!” She said the words, but made no move to leave. Drake frowned. “Don’t be silly. It’s too late. A lady like you shouldn’t be out buying cakes at this hour.” Brishen readily agreed. “A half-cake is still a cake! Aveline, can you stop being so spoiled for once? Seraphina’s heart was in the right place, bringing us here. Don’t ruin the evening for everyone!” I couldn’t help but laugh, a cold, sharp sound. As if I had begged them to come. “I will say this one last time. I am to be married soon. I ask the three of you to conduct yourselves with some dignity. The gate is that way.” I took Elara’s arm, intending to take her back inside to tend to her face. But they were shameless. Even after all I’d said, they refused to leave. Drake’s voice followed me, thick with disappointment. “Aveline, when did you become so small-minded? So we missed the festival with you a few days ago. We already explained. That day, Seraphina was overcome with memories of her past, of the fallen kingdom. We were busy comforting her. We didn’t notice you’d gone.” “You were never this petty before. Are you really going to hold a grudge this long? To use lies about getting married just to push us away?” Brishen, however, was undeterred. He grabbed Seraphina’s hand and made to push past me into my private chambers. “It’s fine. Aveline will be angry for a few days, and then she’ll get over it. She’s never been able to live without us. What’s there to be afraid of?” Seraphina tossed the half-eaten cake at my feet and, with a triumphant little smirk, swept into my room. But she wasn’t watching where she was going. She had only taken a few steps when her foot caught on a dark wooden chest. “Ah! Help me!” Brishen and Drake’s faces paled. “Seraphina!” They rushed to her side, helping her up with worried expressions. Seraphina had only bumped her arm on the floor, leaving a small red mark. But to see it, you’d think she’d broken a bone. The two of them looked at me, their faces cold with accusation. “Aveline, what is wrong with you?” “Did you leave this chest here on purpose? Did you want Seraphina to fall?” “I get it now. You’ve always been jealous that she’s prettier than you. You wanted her to fall and ruin her face, didn’t you? That would make you happy!” The accusations rained down on me, so absurd they were almost laughable. I had been trying to get them to leave from the very beginning. They were the ones who had forced their way in, and now they were blaming me. Seraphina, ever the master of false sincerity, chimed in. “Oh, don’t blame Aveline! It was my own clumsiness. Aveline, darling, it was all my fault, please don’t be upset.” “We only came to celebrate your birthday. Even though we’ve seen everything there is to see here, we’re such good friends, we had to at least stop by!” Her tone was a sickening mix of condescension and pride, as if I should be grateful for their charity. I was about to deliver a scathing reply when Seraphina’s eyes lit up, her gaze falling on the various chests and boxes piled in my room. “Aveline, what is all this? Why are you hoarding so many treasures? Didn’t you tell us you had no money?” The small chest she had tripped over was one of many that hadn’t yet been put away. Inside it, and in the others, were gifts from the Crown Prince, Alistair. His betrothal gifts. There were so many that the treasury storerooms were full, and the overflow had to be kept in my chambers. I had planned to have them sorted after my birthday. I never imagined these three would invite themselves in. Seraphina began to rummage through them with unabashed curiosity. “Don’t touch those,” I said, my voice sharp. She ignored me, even beckoning her two companions to join her. Brishen opened one at random. It was filled with priceless jewels. His jaw dropped. “Aveline, you told us you were poor! How could you hide all this from us? That’s not what friends do!” Drake, too, was mesmerized by the glittering gems. “Aveline, the other day Seraphina admired that one simple hairpin of yours, and you refused to give it to her. And all this time you were hiding this.” Seraphina’s eyes were wide with greed. She clutched a whole chest of jewelry to her chest. “Aveline, I love these so much! Can you give them to me?” Seeing my silence, Brishen frowned and came to persuade me. “Aveline, Seraphina has always looked up to you like an older sister. Don’t be a stranger. What’s one chest of jewels? You have so many.” He turned to Drake. “Isn’t that right?” Drake nodded. “If you refuse to give them to Seraphina today, it only proves that you are petty and jealous, and unworthy of your station.” Seraphina put on her sweet, innocent act again. “Oh, don’t be so harsh! Aveline is so good to me, I’m sure she’ll give them to me. Right, Aveline?” I laughed. “Let’s see if you have the nerve to take them.” These were personally selected by the Crown Prince for his future bride. Every piece bore the royal sigil. Even if I dared to give them away, did Seraphina have the courage to wear them in public? Seraphina smiled smugly. “Then I thank you in advance, Aveline! Brishen, Drake, my dears, you’ll help me carry this chest out later, won’t you?” Before she finished, her gaze shifted again, landing on the magnificent scarlet gown hanging on a screen. “Heavens, what a beautiful dress! Isn’t this the legendary Sunbird Gown? The one the finest royal seamstress of the old kingdom spent two years embroidering with threads of pure gold?” “This gown alone is worth a king’s ransom! After the old kingdom fell, it was thought to be lost forever.” “Aveline, how did it end up here?” I was exhausted, weary down to my bones. I wanted this to be over. I told them the truth. “It was a gift from the Crown Prince.” But none of them believed me. “Aveline is just the Chancellor’s daughter. How could she obtain such a priceless gown? It’s probably a replica.” “Today is her birthday. Some wealthy noble must have given it to her as a gift. Seraphina, if you like it, just have Aveline give it to you as well.” The sheer audacity of it all. Seeing the way they coddled her, a wave of disgust washed over me. Seraphina stroked the fabric with a look of pure longing. “Aveline, we’re sisters, what’s mine is yours. This gown is too beautiful. Just let me try it on?” “No.” My refusal was cold and absolute. But Drake and Brishen grabbed my arms, dragging me away from the screen. “Why are you being so selfish? Seraphina just wants to try it on. She won’t damage it!” Brishen produced a flask of wine from somewhere. “It’s your birthday, after all,” he said, moving toward me. “And you can’t have a birthday without a drink!” “This is a wine that Seraphina brewed herself. A rare treat! Come on, have a taste!” I struggled against them. “The royal physician said I cannot drink any alcohol!” When I fell from the horse, I had injured not just my shoulder, but a bone in my leg. With the wedding approaching, the physician had given me a powerful medicine to speed my recovery. He had specifically warned me not to touch a single drop of wine. But my words were met with scorn. “Who are you trying to fool, Aveline? You used to be able to drink us all under the table. What’s a single flask of wine to you?” “If you don’t drink today, you’re disrespecting Seraphina, and you’re disrespecting us!” They exchanged a look. One forced my jaw open while the other poured the wine down my throat. The strong, cloying taste of it made me choke, tears streaming from my eyes. They just laughed. “See? You can handle it just fine.” I tried desperately to spit the wine out, but an unnatural heat was already spreading through my body. Something was terribly wrong. I clutched at my throat, stumbling toward the door. “Help me…” “Honestly, Aveline’s acting is getting better and better. It’s just a flask of wine, is it really necessary to put on such a show…” Brishen and Drake watched me go, their voices dripping with amusement. My whole body began to tremble. Their voices faded. The world spun, and then everything went black. As I collapsed, their expressions finally changed. “Aveline!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393261”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day they held me down and forced the bitter draught down my throat, a pool of blood spread beneath me on the cold stone floor. My voice had been stolen by a poison, and all I could do was make desperate, clicking sounds with my tongue, trying to tell Lord Damian it was his child I was losing. But his handsome face was a mask of ice, his voice a lash. “Pregnant before marriage. Trysting with another man. Do you know your sin, Lyra?” He had forgotten. At the midwinter feast, it was he who drank the spiced wine, he who cornered me, he who forced himself upon me. He had whispered my name in my ear, Lya. I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. He gently wiped them away, even as he brought the bowl of poison to my lips. “Be rid of this bastard child, and I will find a good match for you.” I bit down hard on the heel of his hand. He merely frowned, soothing me as if I were a frightened animal. “The process is a little painful. You must endure it.” A woman in a gown the color of blood clung to his sleeve. His expression softened instantly. He called her name. Belle. “It’s foul in here,” he murmured to her. “You shouldn’t have come.” A new wave of blood, hot and bitter, rose in my throat, and I choked. Belle… Lya… The name he’d whispered that night… it was never meant for me. 1 A deep, tearing pain radiated from my womb. The blood beneath me was a shocking, vivid scarlet. Damian’s usually placid face finally showed a flicker of panic. I lay in bed for three days, a ghost in my own body. Beyond the partition screen, I heard his mother, the Duchess, speaking to him. “Damian, Lyra is a good girl. She’s of an age to be married. What are your thoughts on the matter?” Her words were a weight, pressing down on me. I peered through the silk screen, my eyes fixed on his silhouette. “My cousin is indeed a fine woman,” he said. The Duchess’s teacup rattled in its saucer. Her tone was carefully casual. “Are you saying you wish to marry her, Damian? Or…” His dark lashes lifted. His voice was a final, damning judgment. “No. She can only ever be my cousin.” A sigh of relief escaped the Duchess. She smiled, saying she would find a good family for me, and that it was time to set a date for his own wedding to Lady Isabelle, the daughter of a neighboring Duke. Damian’s expression remained unreadable. As he left, he said only, “As you wish, Mother.” The Duchess’s voice, now stripped of its warmth, drifted through the screen, mocking my silent hopes. “You heard him, didn’t you?” My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. My empty womb felt as if it were being wrung out by a coarse rope, the pain so intense it stole my breath. I was a distant relation of the Ashworths, the ruling family of this duchy. After my parents died, I sought refuge here. The Duchess had intended to turn me away. “Mother,” a young Damian had said, “the estate is vast. We can spare a plate for our cousin. Let her stay. She can be a companion for me.” With that one word, “cousin,” he had given me a home. We were inseparable, two children against the world. He gave me the warmest room in the east wing, taught me my letters, and guided my hand as I learned to paint. Anything the other young ladies of the house had, he ensured I had as well. And the things they didn’t have, he would find just for me. “Our Lyra,” he used to say, “deserves the best of everything in this world.” I had once joked, “Then if I ever marry, cousin, you must prepare a grand dowry for me.” Damian, who so rarely showed emotion, had suddenly gone cold. “If that day ever comes,” he had said, his voice tight, “I will be the one to give you away.” But at the feast, drunk on spiced wine, he had backed me against the cold stone of the garden wall, his breath hot against my skin. “Lya,” he’d rasped, “don’t be afraid… Lya, I desire you.” I thought he meant it. I thought he cared for me. But now, all he said was, “Pregnant before marriage. Trysting with another man. Do you know your sin?” The Duchess stood over me. “If you are clever, I will not only give you the antidote for your voice, but I will find you a respectable husband and see you married with all due ceremony.” “But you will take this secret to your grave.” After that night with Damian, I had fled in terror. When I discovered I was carrying his child, I had tried to find him, to confess everything. But his mother’s maids intercepted me. They forced a draught down my throat that stole my voice and sent me into darkness. When I woke, Damian was there, his eyes black pools of fury. “Cousin, what is the meaning of this?” The physician knelt, trembling. “My lord… the young lady… she is with child.” Damian’s face became a mask of cold fury. He seized my wrist, his grip like iron. “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice a low growl. “Who is the bastard’s father?” I could only shake my head, my throat raw from silent screams, trying to tell him it was him. I cried until my eyes were swollen shut, but not a single word could escape. He threw my hand away from him, a strange, cold sneer on his lips. “Is he worth this? You’d protect him even at the cost of your own honor?” I wept, shaking my head frantically. He gently wiped my tears, even as he brought the bowl of poison to my lips. “Be rid of this bastard child, and I will find a good match for you.” I bit down hard on the heel of his hand. He merely frowned, soothing me. “The process is a little painful. You must endure it.” A woman in a scarlet gown appeared, clinging to his sleeve. Damian, who was notoriously fastidious and hated to be touched, allowed her proximity without a word. “Belle,” he said, his voice softening with concern. “It’s foul in here. You shouldn’t have come.” Something inside my head fractured. The Duchess’s words when she’d poisoned me echoed in my mind: Belle… Lya… You foolish child. Did you really believe the ramblings of a drunken man? If he hadn’t mistaken you for Belle, do you truly think he would have touched you? Belle… Lya. So it was true. I clutched my chest and coughed up a mouthful of blood. That night of stolen passion was nothing more than a fever dream. The Duchess had said they were a perfect match—noble blood, equal standing. A union blessed by fate. And I? I was nothing. The chasm between us was as wide as the sky. How could I ever be worthy of carrying his child? Using his hand, she had destroyed our baby and my last hope. Now, she held out a small vial—the antidote. “Will you marry him, or not?” I took the vial. After a long, silent moment, my voice returned, a raw, broken whisper. “I will.” 2 For days, Damian tried to see me, but I refused him, citing my poor health. Isabelle came instead, bearing gifts of expensive broths and tonics. She made a great show of adjusting her sleeve, revealing a delicate silver filigree bracelet on her wrist. “It was a gift from Damian,” she said, a shy blush on her cheeks. “I told him I’m not fond of bracelets, but he insisted. He said it’s a family heirloom, passed down to the brides of House Ashworth for generations.” “He also said it looks beautiful on me. Don’t you think so, Cousin Lyra?” I had seen that bracelet once, years ago. I’d found it in a small, carved box in Damian’s study. He had snatched it from my hands, his face tense, before promising he would give it to me as a wedding gift. And now, he had given it to her. If it was never meant for me, why make the promise at all? A bitter smile touched my lips. “It’s beautiful.” To think that he, a man of so few words, could speak such praise. He must love her dearly. Isabelle suddenly insisted on taking it off for me to try. I refused. In the clumsy push and pull between us, there was a sharp crack. The bracelet lay on the floor in pieces. Her eyes welled with tears, her expression one of a startled, wounded fawn. I was speechless. How had it broken so easily? “I’m so sorry, I…” “It’s alright, it’s alright…” she whispered, scrambling to pick up the shattered silver. That’s when Damian arrived. He helped Isabelle to her feet, his brow furrowed. “Be careful, you’ll cut your hands.” She leaned into his embrace, her shoulders trembling, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Damian’s gaze fell from the broken bracelet to me. His voice was glacial. “Aren’t you going to explain?” I met his dark, unreadable eyes, searching for something, anything. But there was nothing there for me. The dead, placid thing that was my heart gave a painful throb. My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. “Damian, I…” Isabelle spoke first. “Damian, it was my fault. Cousin Lyra said she liked my bracelet, so I wanted to let her try it on. I didn’t expect it to fall.” His expression softened immediately. “It’s not your fault. The silver must have been too fragile. If it’s broken, it’s broken. It doesn’t matter.” Then he turned to me, his face a mask of stone once more. “Lyra. Apologize to Isabelle.” The ache in my womb returned, a phantom pain. When I was a child, a servant knocked over a brazier and a single spark singed the hem of my dress. Damian had chased the boy with a riding crop for a mile, dragging him back to apologize to me. The next day, he had a bolt of the finest silk sent to my rooms for a new gown. Now, the way he looked at me was the same way he had looked at that terrified servant boy. Tears burned behind my eyes. I lowered my gaze. “Lady Isabelle, I am sorry.” Isabelle shot Damian a look of feigned annoyance. “How can you be so harsh with her?” “She made a mistake,” Damian said, his voice devoid of pity. “She will make amends.” He reached out and, with a swift movement, unpinned the Starfall Brooch from my cloak. He fastened it onto Isabelle’s gown. “This suits you better.” My hair, freed from the clasp, tumbled down my back. I watched them, the perfect couple, and my heart felt as if it were being pierced by a thousand needles. That brooch… he had won it as the champion’s prize at the Autumn Hunt. The crowd had cheered, telling him to give it to the lady he favored. Amidst the noise, he had pinned it on me, his voice clear. “I have no favored lady. Or if I do, it is only Lyra.” Everyone knew he cherished me. And now, he had given it away with his own hands. Isabelle touched the brooch, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Thank you, Cousin Lyra.” “You are welcome,” I managed to say. “Damian,” she pleaded, “my chambers feel so bare. I wish to purchase some new things. Could you ask Cousin Lyra to accompany me?” Damian scoffed. “Her? Her taste has always been… common. You’d be better off taking a maid.” Ice flooded my veins. In his eyes, was I now worth less than a servant? The old me would have argued, would have berated him. But that Lyra was gone. I looked at him, my voice trembling with a sorrow he would never understand. “My lord cousin is right. My taste is poor. I wouldn’t be of any help.” I don’t know what nerve I struck, but his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. “If your taste weren’t so poor,” he sneered, “would you have thrown yourself away on some stable boy?” My back hit the wall with a sickening thud, the impact forcing tears from my eyes. His face was inches from mine, his voice a cold whisper. “Why are you crying? This is the path you chose.” “Damian,” Isabelle called from behind him. He released me instantly. I could scream in pain and he wouldn’t flinch, but a single word from her, and his anger vanished. He was truly different with her. He turned to Isabelle, his voice warm again. “If she will not go with you, I will give you her chambers.” “However…” he paused. A flicker of anticipation lit Isabelle’s eyes. My own heart tightened. “She has just… lost a child. Her room is tainted with the smell of blood. Be careful not to be soiled by the filth.” A dense, suffocating pain filled my chest. My empty womb ached as if it were being flayed. He didn’t care about my pain, my grief. He only cared that she might be sullied by my presence. Isabelle let out a musical laugh, her eyes darting to me with pure malice. “I see.” Her laughter was a blade, mocking my foolishness, mocking the unclean thing that had dared to desire the noble Lord of House Ashworth. As they left, Damian threw one last warning over his shoulder. “Try not to cause any more trouble.” A single withered petal drifted from the window and landed in my palm. Cause any more trouble, I mouthed to myself. And then, I began to laugh. Very well, cousin. I will give you exactly what you wish for. 3 In the past, whenever we argued, Damian would be the one to make peace. A plate of rosewater tarts was brought to my room. The servant said they were from him. But I had never liked rosewater tarts. My maid, Clara, tried to comfort me. “My lady, Lord Damian must be so worried about you that he’s muddled. He simply forgot your preference. Don’t be angry.” Her eyes shone with hope. “He still cares for you, my lady!” My heart stirred. I was about to take a bite when Isabelle’s maid rushed in and slapped the tart from my hand. “That’s for Lady Isabelle, from Lord Damian! How dare you eat it?!” A cold wind seemed to blow through the crack in my heart. So, it wasn’t for me after all. Clara’s face flushed with shame. “My lady, I didn’t know…” I shook my head. “It’s fine. It was never meant for me.” Isabelle waved a dismissive hand. “It’s no matter. Damian has been sending a river of gifts to my rooms these past few days. If you like rosewater tarts so much, cousin, you only had to ask.” Clara, incensed, shoved the entire plate back into Isabelle’s arms. “Here, take them!” Isabelle stood frozen, tears welling in her eyes. Damian, arriving at that very moment, rushed to her side, dabbing at her tears with his own handkerchief. “Don’t cry.” When he looked at me, his eyes were full of cold fury. “When did you become so envious? I send Isabelle a plate of tarts, and you must snatch them away?” “I didn’t…” I tried to explain that the servant had brought them to me, that it was a mistake. But he wouldn’t listen. “I don’t need your excuses. I see the truth with my own eyes.” He took the plate and contemptuously emptied its contents into the fish pond. “Anything she has touched…” he said, his voice dripping with disgust. “Is tainted.” He turned back to Isabelle, his voice softening. “If you still wish for tarts, I will have the kitchens send more.” He was the perfect, gentle lord. Isabelle leaned close to my ear, her lips curved in a triumphant smile. “What does it matter that you were once his favorite? In his eyes, you are nothing now.” Damian had my allowance cut. The servants, seeing which way the wind blew, stopped tending to my needs. Autumn arrived, and I wasn’t even given fabric for a new cloak. In years past, Damian would have taken me to the city tailor himself. Now, he spent his days with Isabelle. She brought me a bolt of hideous, moss-colored wool. “I was going to use this to line my boots,” she said with a sweet, cutting smile. “But then I heard you had no funds for new clothes, so I brought it straight to you.” I felt no anger. “Thank you, Lady Isabelle.” “Oh!” she cried out, “accidentally” knocking over a candlestick. Hot wax spattered across the back of my hand. A searing pain shot up my arm. Damian, who had appeared from nowhere, rushed to Isabelle, carefully examining her hands, turning them over and over. “Are you hurt anywhere? Does it hurt?” My own hand was blistering, the pain so sharp tears sprang to my eyes. But no one asked if I was in pain. Isabelle shot me a triumphant look, then began to cry, complaining that her hand was burned and that only Damian’s kiss could make it better. Their intimate display made me feel like an intruder in my own room. From beginning to end, Damian never once noticed my injury. Instead, he rounded on me. “She brings you a gift out of kindness, and you deliberately knock a candle over to harm her?” “You are incorrigible.” “I should never have let you stay in this house.” He had forgotten. He had forgotten holding my hands in his, all those years ago, and saying, “Keeping you here, Lyra, was the best decision I have ever made.” And: “Our Lyra deserves the best of everything in this world.” I closed my eyes, a wave of nausea and sorrow washing over me. A single, hot tear escaped and traced a path down my cheek. 4 The Duchess informed me that a blacksmith, a commoner, had agreed to marry me. He didn’t mind, she said, that I had… lost a child. The wedding would be after the Autumn Hunt. “As you wish, my lady.” My life belonged to this house. I would marry whomever they chose. Every year, Damian took me to the Hunt. This year, another woman stood at his side. He was, as always, the champion. He won the grand prize and began to walk toward the crowd. Toward me. My palms grew damp with sweat. But then, just before he reached me, he turned. He presented the prize, a magnificent hunting falcon, to Isabelle. “For you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393260”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I died. I died on the way back for my husband’s birthday. The car crash mangled my body beyond recognition, but perhaps because of some lingering attachment, my soul drifted back home. And there I saw him, Aiden, leading another woman through our front door. With them was a little boy who was the spitting image of him. I watched them eat a cheerful family dinner. I watched the boy knock over the Lego castle I’d spent a year building. I watched as Aiden took call after call, people trying to break the news of my death, and his face remained a mask of indifference. It wasn’t until he saw the package I’d sent him that something finally, terribly, broke. My name is—was—Agnes. The accident stole my life, but it couldn’t sever my obsession. My soul now wanders the halls of the home that was once my sanctuary, a place now tainted with the scent of strangers and betrayal. Aiden ushered Zoe, the woman he’d always wanted, inside. Trailing them was a boy of about three or four. The moment I saw the child’s face, the heart that had long stopped beating seemed to clench. So that’s why he’d agreed to marry me so readily all those years ago. His true love was already carrying his child. “Come on in, sweetheart,” Zoe said, smiling as she ruffled the boy’s hair. He bounded over to Aiden, his voice a pure, innocent chime. “Daddy!” A genuine, unguarded smile spread across Aiden’s face as he swept the boy into his arms. Watching the three of them, a perfect picture of a happy family, my lingering attachment began to curdle into a bitter, gnawing resentment. I followed them inside. Every piece of furniture, every painting on the wall, had been chosen by me. “Where’s Agnes?” Zoe asked, sinking into the sofa as if she owned it. Aiden set the boy down and opened the fridge, pulling out a slice of cake. My cake. The last one. “She’s on a business trip. Won’t be back for a while.” He handed Zoe a bottle of milk. “In that case, can Leo and I stay here for a bit?” Zoe’s voice was velvet, her eyes flicking toward the boy. She added, as if it were an afterthought, “He’s been asking for his daddy so much lately.” Aiden chuckled and crouched down in front of Leo, whispering something in his ear. The boy immediately scrambled up and darted towards the stairs. “Leo, slow down!” Zoe called after him. “And what about you?” Aiden’s voice dropped, and he moved towards Zoe on the couch, leaning in close. “Did you miss me?” A blush crept up Zoe’s neck. She gave a shy nod, and in the next instant, his mouth was on hers, her bright red lips silenced. Their hands intertwined as they lost themselves in the kiss. My suspended soul died a second death. I tried to leave, to flee this place, but every time I tried, I found myself drawn back, tethered to Aiden’s side. No peace, not even in death. “Don’t,” Zoe murmured, turning her head away, her face flushed. “Leo might see.” Aiden froze for a second, then pulled back, straightening the shirt I’d given him for our anniversary. “Later, then.” As the grandfather clock in the hall chimed the hour, Zoe smiled. “Time flies. I’ll go make dinner.” But Aiden caught her, pulling her into an embrace. “No, I’ll cook. You’ve had a long day.” She turned in his arms and gave him a quick, sweet kiss. He paused, surprised, then took control, deepening it into something more. In all the years I’d known him, I had never once seen him cook. Not once. In the beginning, he’d complained about my cooking, so I secretly spent a fortune on classes to improve. The thought of him ever making a meal for me was an impossible fantasy. While Aiden went to the kitchen, Zoe headed upstairs. Remembering my Lego castle, I drifted up after her. She ran a hand over the intricate spires of the model on the desk. “Leo,” she said to the boy playing a game on a tablet nearby. “Want to live here for good?” Leo nodded enthusiastically. Zoe pointed a finger at my creation. “Mommy doesn’t like this.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the boy walked over and shoved it. The castle I had pieced together for a year shattered, a cascade of plastic bricks crashing to the floor. The noise brought Aiden running from the kitchen, spatula still in hand. “What was that?” he demanded, his brow furrowed. “It was me! I bumped it by accident,” Zoe said instantly, pulling Leo into a protective hug, her voice trembling with false remorse. “No, it wasn’t Mommy! It was me! I did it!” Leo burst into tears, looking up at Aiden. In the end, Aiden couldn’t bring himself to scold the boy. He just told him to be more careful. Zoe stepped over the scattered pieces, walked up to Aiden, and draped herself over his arm, her pitiful expression melting his anger away in an instant. “Dinner’s ready,” she announced. “Come and eat.” And then I saw it. Behind Aiden’s back, Zoe gave Leo a triumphant thumbs-up. My gaze fell to the plastic wreckage on the floor, and a sharp, phantom pain shot through my chest. Weren’t you supposed to feel nothing when you were dead? Weren’t you supposed to be free? Then why did my heart still ache so terribly? I reached down, trying to pick up a piece, but my hand passed straight through it. I was three years younger than Aiden. His parents had died saving my father, and my mother, out of a sense of profound debt, brought him into our home. He’ll be your husband one day, she told me. I was ten years old. I took her words as gospel. From that day on, I devoted myself to him, right up until the very end, when I was rushing back to celebrate his birthday. His birthday was easy to remember. It was our anniversary. The seventh. “Aiden,” Zoe said over dinner, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Where are we going for our anniversary tomorrow?” For the first time, Aiden was silent. He never let Zoe’s questions hang in the air, but this time, the silence stretched. “Wherever you want to go,” he finally said. “Anything you want.” Every year before, I had planned everything for our anniversary, his birthday gift included. He never had to lift a finger. Not that he ever appreciated it. He’d stand me up every time, leaving me waiting alone. The thought stung. Had he ever stood Zoe up? Later that night, after Zoe was asleep, Aiden went out to the balcony for a cigarette. He pulled out his phone, the screen glowing in the dark. Two minutes until midnight. I knew what he was waiting for. He was waiting for my text. The first “Happy Birthday” of the day. I had sent it every single year, without fail. He, on the other hand, never got my birthday right. It was always a day early or a day late, a careless afterthought. The gift was always the same, too: a tube of lipstick. The clock on his phone ticked from 11:59 to 12:00. Then 12:01. 12:02. No new messages appeared. He switched his phone to airplane mode, then switched it back. He did this three times. Still nothing. He blamed the network, he blamed his phone, but it never once occurred to him that something might have happened to me. He didn’t even bother to send a single message. I was always the one to initiate. The cigarette burned down to the filter, searing his lip. He swore, flicking it into the darkness, and then, with a casual swipe of his thumb, he blocked my number. His duty done, he slipped back into bed, curling up against Zoe’s warm back. A cold curiosity bloomed within me. I wanted to know what he would do when he finally found out I was dead. The next morning, as Aiden carried breakfast out from the kitchen, the doorbell rang. “Who the hell is it this early on a weekend?” he muttered, annoyed, and went to get the door. It was a courier. He signed for the package. It was my birthday gift to him. A pair of custom cufflinks. Aiden tore open the package, his expression shifting to one of confusion as he saw the velvet box inside. The cufflinks I had chosen so carefully. In my naivete, I thought such a thoughtful gift might convey the depth of my love, might make him cherish our marriage a little more. Now, he barely glanced at them before tossing the box onto the coffee table. There was no fondness on his face, only irritation. “Aiden, who was it?” Zoe asked, coming down the stairs. “A package from Agnes,” he said flatly. “What is it?” she pressed, sidling up to him, a vinegary note in her voice. She had a way of prying, of turning every question about me into an accusation. “Nothing,” he said, not indulging her as he usually would. Zoe’s expression flickered, but she quickly pasted on a smile. “Oh, right! You promised you’d take me and Leo out today. When are we leaving?” At the mention of an outing, Aiden’s mood brightened. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Wherever you want to go. I can drop everything for you and my son.” “Really? That’s amazing! I’ll go pack right now!” Zoe squealed, dashing off to the bedroom. Aiden watched her go, a faint smile on his lips, but I saw a flicker of something else in his eyes—a deep, weary boredom. When you’re with her, do you ever think of me? On the coffee table, the cufflinks I had pinned so much hope on looked pathetically small. A testament to my shattered love, a mockery of my wasted life. The sun streamed through the window, but my soul felt darker than ever. I watched their smiling faces and felt the bitter sting of irony. Why marry me, only to betray me? He could have just said no. I had asked him that once. His answer was a single, devastating line: “My family owes yours a debt. I can’t go back on my word.” And so, you felt entitled to hurt me without limit. Aiden, I wish we had never even begun. Just as they were about to leave, his phone rang. It was the police department, calling to inform him of my death. “Yeah, what is it?” Aiden answered, his tone clipped with impatience. He hated being interrupted when he was on his way out. A solemn male voice came through the line. “Am I speaking with Mr. Aiden Sterling? I’m calling to inform you that your wife, Ms. Agnes Vance, passed away in a car accident a week ago. We need you to come to the city morgue to identify the body. Please accept our condolences.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393259”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The Royal Hunt was in full cry, a thunder of hooves on damp earth and the whistle of arrows in the crisp spring air. Crown Prince Alaric loosed an arrow. He never intended for it to find a human target, but it did. It struck a destitute young woman, a distant, orphaned cousin. Her name was Seraphina, the niece of his own mother—a woman whose name was never spoken in polite company. No one could have predicted that a single arrow would spark an instant, fiery infatuation in the Prince. On the spot, he declared his intention to make her his bride. There was, however, the small matter of his existing betrothal. His fiancée was me, Eleonora, the sole heiress of the great House de Courtenay. Soon after, Prince Alaric arrived at Courtenay Manor. His expression was resolute, his voice ringing with a conviction that left no room for debate. “I wounded my cousin. I bound her wounds myself. We touched. Her honor is compromised. Now, she has no other path but to marry me.” He looked at me then, a flicker of something like pity in his eyes. “You are the Queen’s own niece. The finest men of the kingdom would line up for your hand. Why must you fight a poor, unfortunate girl for one man?” Fight? A daughter of House de Courtenay does not fight over men. The absurdity of his words was laughable. Was he dreaming? The news that he had broken our betrothal had barely begun to circulate when a Royal Decree arrived from the palace. The decree stated that while I would retain the honorific title of a princess, the official position of Crown Princess—the future Queen—was now destined for another. … Prince Alaric stood in the grand hall of my family’s estate, his posture impeccable, his bearing noble. But his gaze never left the delicate figure of Seraphina, who clung to his side. “Seraphina is fragile,” he announced to my father, the Duke. “To suffer such a calamity upon her first visit to the capital… I am the one who harmed her. If I do not marry her, how can she possibly face the world?” He then turned his attention to me. “Lady Eleonora, you must understand. For a young woman, her reputation is everything. Seraphina now has no choice but to become my wife. If you have even a shred of compassion, you will agree to dissolve our engagement.” So this was his plan. He had been captivated by her since that day at the hunt and had spent two months nursing his secret obsession, only to choose my own birthday, in front of all my guests, to deliver this public humiliation. My father’s entire body trembled with rage, the porcelain teacup in his hand rattling in its saucer. Decorum be damned. “Your Highness,” he bit out, “do you use such a flimsy excuse to break this vow, without a single thought for my daughter’s future? For her reputation?” “This union was one you personally begged the King to approve, a matter known to the entire realm. And now you appear at my door to renounce it, casting the honor of House de Courtenay into the mud?” Seraphina, her face a mask of timid distress, tugged gently at Alaric’s sleeve. “My prince, please, do not argue with the Duke on my account. I am not afraid of whispers and rumors. If it comes to it, I would rather die than cause you this trouble.” Alaric wrapped a protective arm around her, his voice softening to a tender murmur. “Fear not. I will never let you face them alone.” He then looked up at me, his expression arrogant, his eyes laced with disdain. “Lady Eleonora, you come from a great house. Surely you wouldn’t deign to compete with Seraphina for a man’s affection. You have a legion of worthy suitors to choose from. To cling to this engagement now would make you seem… desperate. A social climber.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Or perhaps you are just like every other woman in the capital, greedy for the title of Queen?” He straightened, his voice ringing out once more. “Since our betrothal, you have refused my invitations to ride, to attend poetry readings. You’ve been so cold and distant. It’s clear you were never happy with this match. My breaking it simply saves us both the trouble.” House de Courtenay, a name respected for centuries, had never endured such an insult. I was speechless with fury. With trembling hands, I retrieved the ornate scroll that served as our betrothal writ. “Your Highness, here is the contract. From this day forward, our houses are unburdened by this vow. You are free to marry, and I am free to wed, and we shall be as strangers.” My gaze shifted to Seraphina. “And you, Lady Seraphina, need not continue this performance in my home. You have found your prince. You will one day ascend to the most revered position a woman can hold. Should you not be overjoyed?” Seraphina swayed, her face turning deathly pale. “Lady Eleonora, I know my station is low. I would never dare to compare myself to you, and I never intended to steal your betrothed. Why must you mock me so?” Alaric let out a scornful laugh. “You relinquish your claim so readily, Lady Eleonora. Could it be you already have another in your heart? Perhaps my actions have done you a favor?” He scanned the assembled guests, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Since today is your birthday, why not choose a new husband from this fine company? I shall even provide a handsome gift to add to your dowry.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Seraphina’s waist and led her away, leaving a stunned silence and a flurry of whispers in his wake. “Has the Prince gone mad? To cast aside a de Courtenay for some unknown cousin?” “But Lady Eleonora is the Queen’s niece! She is his cousin as well!” “You haven’t heard? He shot this Seraphina girl during the hunt and was instantly smitten. Insists he must marry her.” “I’ve never even heard of this woman. The security at the Royal Hunt is impenetrable. How did she even get in? There’s more to this than meets the eye.” “I heard she’s from his birth mother’s side of the family…” “Hush! Don’t speak of that. The Prince’s origins are a forbidden topic. His mother was nothing but a common maid.” My birthday celebration was ruined, ending in a chaotic, humiliating mess. And overnight, the news that Crown Prince Alaric had jilted the heiress of House de Courtenay for an orphaned nobody spread through the capital like wildfire. 2 The very next day, I was summoned to the palace by the Queen. She is my father’s sister, my own aunt, and she has always cherished me. My aunt has reigned as Queen for many years but has remained childless, a quiet sorrow that has shadowed her entire rule. Alaric’s birth mother was a mere scullery maid the King had a fleeting encounter with at a country palace. Her station was so low that even after bearing a royal child, she was never granted a title. She died of illness not long after Alaric was born. Because of his mother’s lowly status, Alaric was scorned and abused by everyone in his youth, even the palace servants. He nearly didn’t survive his childhood. It was my aunt, the Queen, beloved by the King and holding unwavering power at court, who took pity on the wretched boy. She brought him into her own wing of the palace, raised him as her own, and educated him with the greatest care. And so, despite being the King’s fourth son, his adoption by the Queen made him the logical, undisputed heir to the throne. She took my hands in hers, her touch warm and comforting. “My dear child, I know the injustice you have suffered. That boy, Alaric, he does not know how to value what he has. I poured my heart into teaching him for years, promised him the most beloved daughter of our house, and for what? For him to be swayed by a pretty face, to cast you aside for a cousin he’s never even met!” Her voice was laced with disappointment. “How can a man who acts on such whims ever be a great ruler? All my years of teaching have been wasted.” A bitter sigh escaped her. “The blood of House de Courtenay does not run in his veins. A son that is not your own, it seems, can never truly be yours.” I leaned against her, resting my head on her lap. “Aunt, perhaps it is not such a bad thing that the Prince has revealed his true nature before our marriage. It is far better than for me to suffer such betrayals after I am bound to him.” I forced a smile. “A daughter of de Courtenay will not want for suitors.” The Queen’s expression softened, and she stroked my cheek. “My Eleonora, you are the finest young woman in the realm. Rest assured, the position of Crown Princess is yours. No one else can take it.” The King and Queen were childhood friends, their bond deep and enduring. Even without an heir of her own, she remained the woman he cherished most. Because she had raised Alaric, the King’s affection extended to him, doting on the boy as if he were his own true-born heir. Despite his mother’s origins, the King bestowed upon him the ultimate honor: the title of Crown Prince. The King had heard of the broken betrothal and was now in a towering rage. “That fool!” he bellowed. “The greatest houses in the realm would kill for a match with a de Courtenay, and he casts aside the family’s heiress for some nobody? The Queen arranged this marriage to give you the backing of a powerful house, to support your weak maternal line, and you throw away your greatest asset with your own two hands! You are as dim-witted as a pig!” He stormed out, his fury echoing in the hall. Even after the King’s tirade, Alaric remained defiant. He had the gall to bring Seraphina to the Queen’s chambers to pay his respects. He knelt before my aunt. “Your Majesty, you have always loved me as a son. All I ask is to marry a woman I truly love. I am the Crown Prince. Surely I have the right to choose the woman I desire?” The Queen looked down at him, her disappointment a cold, heavy presence in the room. “You and Eleonora grew up together. I recall you kneeling before me, begging for this betrothal, proclaiming your love for her, promising a life of mutual support. One life, one love. And now, you claim she is not the woman you desire?” Her voice was sharp. “It seems this Seraphina has blinded you to all reason.” Alaric lifted his chin, his hand tightening around Seraphina’s. “Your Majesty, Eleonora is just like all the other dull noblewomen—bound by convention, lifeless, utterly devoid of spirit. But Seraphina… Seraphina is different! She loves to laugh and play, she can dance in ways the court has never seen, she hums folk songs from the countryside. She is enchanting, vibrant! Your Majesty, if you only got to know her, I know you would love her too!” 3 From behind the curtain where I was hidden, I let out a silent, scornful laugh. Humming folk songs and dancing scandalous dances? You could find women like that in any tavern in the city. The Queen’s gaze was like ice. “Alaric, do you have any idea what you will lose without the support of House de Courtenay?” The Prince actually smiled. “I know you speak of the backing of the great houses of the south. But, Your Majesty, I am the Crown Prince. The future King. The entire realm will be my subjects. What have I to fear?” He brightened, a foolish idea taking root. “I know you are fond of Eleonora. Why not let her be my second consort? When I ascend the throne, I can make her a duchess. Surely House de Courtenay would not dare object to such an honor?” My fists clenched behind the screen. The insolent fool. The Queen’s voice was chillingly calm. “A daughter of House de Courtenay will never be a secondary wife. Alaric, you are my adopted son, but you are not the King’s only son. Do you truly believe you can hold your position by your own strength alone?” “Of course,” he replied, his voice ringing with unshakeable confidence. “I am the future King, Your Majesty.” Seraphina spoke then, her voice a delicate whisper. “Your Majesty, I know my station is low. If Lady Eleonora joins the Prince’s household, I promise not to compete with her for his affections. I will treat her as a sister, and we shall serve the Prince together.” The Queen let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “Hmph. Alaric, you must be certain. Once you choose Seraphina, there is no turning back.” His reply was firm. “Yes. I will have no regrets.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393258”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My father was dying. I called my sister, who was on vacation in Paris with her husband, and told her to come back to see him one last time. By some miracle, Dad pulled through. But my brother-in-law, Mark, died in a freak accident abroad. While sorting through his belongings, my sister, Chloe, found his journal. In it, he’d written that my father and I had pushed him away, that he never felt like he had a place in our family. From that day on, she cut us out of her life. For nine years, we didn’t speak. Then, on the tenth anniversary of her husband’s death, my sister set our house on fire and killed us all. I woke with a gasp, my eyes flying open. I was back. Back on the day my father was pronounced critical. The first thing I did was race to the hospital. Dad’s condition was severe. He was hooked up to a ventilator, the machine breathing for him, keeping his vitals stable. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic, relentless beeping of the monitors. A knock at the door broke the silence. The doctor ushered my mother and me into the hallway. “We need you to sign the critical condition paperwork,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Your husband has reached a critical stage. Whether he pulls through now is entirely up to him.” The pen trembled in my mother’s hand. The tip hovered over the signature line, unable to descend. Seeing her anguish, I took charge. I took the pen from her and signed my name. As the doctor left with the clipboard, he gave us one last piece of advice. “If there are any other close family members, you should call them now. He might not make it through the night.” That was it. My mother’s composure shattered. She broke down, sobbing like a child. When the tears finally subsided, she wiped her face and looked at me. “Logan,” she said, her voice raw. “Call your sister. Tell her to come home.” My immediate impulse was to refuse. In my last life, I had listened to her. I’d called Chloe, and she’d caught the first flight back from Egypt. The good news was that Dad, seeing her, rallied and made a full recovery. The bad news was that Mark, left alone abroad, was kidnapped. The next time anyone saw him, he was a cold, lifeless body. Chloe never blamed us outright, but she could never get over it. I didn’t want to remember the fire that had consumed us all. Hearing my mother’s words now, I shook my head. “Mom, she’s in another country. Even if we call now, she won’t make it in time. I’m here. I can take care of everything. We don’t need to trouble her.” My mother didn’t understand. I was the one who always deferred to my older sister, who called her for everything. Why, now, in our darkest hour, was I suddenly insisting on handling it all myself? “Logan, I understand you want to step up, but if your sister doesn’t get to see your father one last time, she will hate you for it!” But Mom, don’t you see? If I call her, Mark will die, and she’ll hate more than just me. I couldn’t say those words. Instead, I took her hand, my grip firm. “Mom,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “Trust me. Dad is going to pull through.” She stared at me for a long moment, then sighed and put her phone away. Just then, my phone buzzed. A notification from our family group chat: “The Happy Family.” I opened it. It was Chloe, picking a fight from halfway across the world. “I know you all have a bad impression of Mark, but we’ve been gone for days and not a single one of you has checked in. Is that so hard?” “For other people, family is a safe harbor. For me, it’s like I’m invisible.” “Logan, say something. Are you dead?” I didn’t have to guess. Mark had fed her those lines. He was a man with a massive ego and a petty soul, always looking for a slight. The ego of a king with the work ethic of a servant; he couldn’t earn a dime himself but dreamed of living like a millionaire. But this wasn’t the time to point that out. As I waited for Dad to wake up, I sighed and typed a message into the chat. “Hey Chloe, Mark. Did you guys arrive safely? Hope you’re having a great time. Things are a little crazy at home right now, Mom and Dad are swamped.” That night, luck was on our side. Dad’s condition stabilized enough for surgery. “If he can open his eyes on his own after this,” the doctor told us, “he should be out of the woods.” My mother was overcome with gratitude, thanking the doctor again and again. As we waited outside the operating room, a nurse from billing approached us. “Hello, who’s the family of Robert Vance?” My mother and I raised our hands. “His medical bill is due. There will be additional charges for the surgery as well.” Dad had been in the ICU for three days. There was one surgery when he was admitted, and this was the second. All told, the bill was a staggering two hundred and forty thousand dollars. 2 I had just graduated and started working; I had barely any savings. My parents were working-class people their whole lives. The hundred thousand or so they’d managed to put away was the fruit of a lifetime of hard labor. We pooled everything we had, called in every small favor, and we were still fifty thousand dollars short. Left with no other choice, I dialed my sister’s number. “Chloe? Hey, something’s come up at home. Is there any way you could lend me fifty thousand dollars?” Her response was a torrent of abuse. “Logan, have you no shame? Mark and I are on vacation, trying to be careful with our money, and you have the nerve to ask for fifty grand? Do you think money just grows on trees for me?” “No, Chloe, it’s not for me,” I tried to explain. “Something happened at home, it’s an emergency…” She scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “Something happened? What could it be? You probably got yourself into online gambling debt, right? Mark saw right through you from the start. He told me I needed to set you straight, and I defended you. I said you weren’t that kind of person, but I guess…” I opened my mouth to explain, but she wouldn’t listen. “Let me tell you something. Mark and I are having a wonderful time here in Paris, and you’d better not call again and ruin our mood. Logan, our family doesn’t need a disgusting leech like you!” She hung up. When I tried to call back, it went straight to voicemail. Desperate, I texted her. “Chloe, this is really, really urgent. Please, I’ll sign an IOU, whatever you want.” Her response was to block my number. Seeing my distress, my mom took her own phone and called. “Chloe, why did you block Logan? He was just trying to borrow some money.” At the sound of my name, Chloe’s voice turned sharp with irritation. “Logan, Logan, that’s all you two care about! You don’t give a damn about your daughter who’s halfway across the world, do you?” My mom tried to placate her. “Honey, it’s not what you think. We’re at City Center Hospital. You know so many people, even if you can’t send money, maybe you could help us figure something out?” But Chloe had no intention of helping us. Or rather, of helping me. The mention of the hospital only made her colder. “When I was a kid and my stomach hurt, I begged you to take me to the doctor and you said it was nothing. But now Logan needs a hospital and you rush him right over? You only have him in your hearts. You never cared about me!” “Since I mean so little to you, let Logan take care of everything! Why are you even calling me?” It was like she’d been brainwashed. Her words were irrational, completely divorced from reality, and she refused to listen to a word of explanation. The only person in our family who could ever get through to her was our father, and he was lying unconscious in a hospital bed. My mother was lost. She couldn’t understand why her daughter was being so cruel, so reckless. “Did we do something to upset her? Why did she change so much the moment she left the country?” One name came to my mind: Mark. My brother-in-law. He always looked at my father and me with suspicion, as if he believed we were plotting against him. No one knew what we had ever done to offend him. Perhaps only he knew the answer to that. “Mom, forget it,” I said, trying to sound stronger than I felt. “If Chloe won’t help, we’ll figure something else out.” We had to. We couldn’t just give up. It was just money. I would swallow my pride and call our relatives. If that failed, I’d beg the doctors. But when I called my uncle, the response was not what I expected. “Logan? Is that you? Look, I’m not trying to be old-fashioned, but you’re a young man. How could you get a girl pregnant? And now you need money for an abortion and you come crawling to your family? Are you trying to disgrace us? Don’t you have any sense of shame?” I was stunned. “Uncle, what are you talking about? An abortion? I am trying to borrow money, but it’s not for…” He cut me off. “Your sister already gave us all a heads-up. She said it was time you learned a lesson, that you shouldn’t be so reckless. Look, I get it, you’re a young guy, you have… urges. But you have to be responsible!” He hung up before I could say another word. It hit me then. Chloe had anticipated this. She had known I would turn to our relatives and had systematically poisoned the well, cutting off my last resort. I made several more calls. The answers were all the same. In that moment, I understood the true meaning of helplessness. 3 How could my own sister be so ruthless? How much did she hate me? I must have annoyed my uncle with my repeated calls, because he drove down to the hospital to lecture me in person. “Logan, you’re not a kid anymore, but you’ve got no sense of responsibility! And you,” he said, turning to my mother, “you need to keep a better eye on him! Don’t just dote on my niece.” My uncle had always favored Chloe over me. He wasn’t here to help; he was here to gloat. I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the billing office. “Uncle, please, just lend me the fifty thousand. I’m begging you. After this is over, you can yell at me, hit me, whatever you want!” He shoved me away, sending me sprawling to the floor. “You think money is that easy to come by? Fifty thousand just like that? You’ve got your head in the clouds.” He was about to launch into another tirade when a long, piercing sound cut through the hallway from Dad’s room. Beeeeeeeeeeeeep— The heart monitor. It had flatlined. “Dad!” My legs gave out. I collapsed to my knees, unable to stand. A deafening roar filled my ears, the flatline tone echoing inside my skull, chaotic and overwhelming. “Dad, you can’t die! You can’t die!” My uncle finally seemed to realize something was wrong. He pointed toward the room. “What’s going on? Who is that on the bed?” “That’s my father! Your brother-in-law! The man who is about to die because he can’t get surgery for fifty thousand dollars! Aren’t you going to pay it now? If my father dies, you’re a murderer! All of you are murderers!” But he still wore that same look of smug disbelief. “You think I’ve never seen a heart monitor before? If he were really dying, the hospital would be rushing to save him. I see what this is. You found someone who looks like your dad to try and scam us! Logan, you’ve got some nerve!” My legs were jelly, I couldn’t move, but he still didn’t believe me. Nothing I said mattered. It was all a lie, a trick. I was powerless. What else could I do? What could I possibly do to prove I wasn’t lying? “Dad…” “Enough with the act. You’re coming home with me right now. You really think your uncle hasn’t been around the block? You think I don’t know how these hospitals work?” he sneered. “This kind of trick might work on your mother, but not on me. They’re not going to let a man die over money. They’d cover the costs first if it were a real emergency!” He looked down at me as if I were a cockroach in a sewer. “You thought you could use this man to cheat money out of me? You really underestimate me, Logan.” I was sobbing, my vision blurred with tears. He was right in one sense—the doctors and nurses were already rushing to stabilize my dad, even without the payment. It was basic humanity. But resuscitation wasn’t the problem. The surgery was. They could bring him back from the brink for free, but they wouldn’t perform a major operation on credit. “Uncle, please, yell at me later! Just give me the money. Once I pay the bill and Dad has his surgery, you can do whatever you want to me! You can beat me to death!” He remained unmoved. My mother, overwhelmed by her high blood pressure and the stress of it all, had been taken to an emergency room herself. But my uncle used that against me. “If your dad was really in trouble, where’s your mother? I see. You two are in on this together, trying to scam me!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393257”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After his first love died, Duke Cassian despised me for ten years. I tried everything to earn his affection, but he would only sneer. “If you truly wish to please me, Eleonora, you should die.” The words were a dagger in my heart. Yet, when the burning rafters of our manor collapsed, he died saving me. As he lay dying in my arms, he used his last ounce of strength to push my hand away. “Eleonora,” he rasped, “if only I had never met you in this life…” At his funeral, his mother, the Duchess, was inconsolable. “Oh, Cassian, it was my fault. I never should have forced you to marry her. If only I had let you marry Lilliana, would things have been different today?” His father, the old Duke, glared at me with pure hatred. “My son saved your life three times. Why do you bring him nothing but disaster? Why wasn’t it you who died?” Everyone regretted that he had married me. Even I did. In the end, I threw myself from the highest window of the Celestial Spire. And I awoke, ten years in the past. This time, I would sever all ties with Cassian. This time, I would give everyone the ending they wanted. 1 “Eleonora, you truly have a talent for it. Forcing my parents to threaten their own lives to make me marry you. Did you think that by wedding me, you would find happiness?” The deep, cold voice of a young man echoed in my ears. I blinked, my gaze fuzzy, and found myself staring at Cassian. He stood before me, dressed in the striking red tunic of the royal guard, his features sharp and untamed. He was different from the man he would become in ten years. This was Cassian at eighteen. I had truly returned. Swallowing the lump of grief in my throat, I drank in the sight of him. “You don’t want to marry me,” I stated, my voice steadier than I felt. “The one you truly want to marry is Lady Lilliana. Isn’t that right?” Cassian scoffed. “What if it is? Are you going to step aside?” “Yes,” I said, my voice firm. My parents had died as heroes on the battlefield, securing the kingdom’s borders. As a reward, the King had granted me a Royal Writ of marriage—a blank contract I could use to claim any nobleman in the realm as my husband. By the same token, I could use it to request a marriage for someone else. He froze for a second, then laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “You used the King’s writ to pressure me. My parents are forcing me. Our marriage is set in stone. How, exactly, do you plan to ‘step aside’?” He took a step closer, his eyes burning with contempt. “Eleonora, I have no time for your games of cat and mouse. Take your royal writ and go back to the palace yourself. I will wait for you here.” With that, he turned and leaned against the cold stone of the palace wall. The raw disgust in his eyes was a physical blow. In both my lives, I had loved Cassian for so long. He had saved me twice, risking his own life without hesitation. I had mistaken that for a secret love, and with a joyful heart, I had asked the King to grant us marriage. It was only after his true love died that I understood. He had never loved me. My ten years of devotion had been his ten years of torment. In my past life, I had performed countless acts of charity, bartered my own life force with a Seer, all for the chance to bring him back. Before I was reborn, the Seer had given me a warning. “Within twelve hours of his rebirth, you must resolve his three greatest regrets. Once they are fulfilled, you must leave at once. From then on, you and he will walk separate paths. He will not die at thirty because of you. You will both find your own destinies.” “But rebirth always has a price, my lady. Be certain you are prepared.” As long as Cassian could live, I feared no price. I sought an audience with the King and petitioned him to issue a new Royal Writ, this one for the marriage of Duke Cassian and Lady Lilliana. I knew his three regrets. They were written in a leather-bound journal he kept locked in his study. “I regret marrying Eleonora. I regret not fighting my parents’ wishes. I regret not being able to save Lilliana.” Now, his first regret was fulfilled. I walked out of the palace, the new edict in my hands, and presented it to him. He looked at me with an expression of pure disdain, as if I were a predator who had finally cornered her prey. He reached to unroll the scroll. I gently pressed his hand down. “Wait until tomorrow,” I said, a soft smile on my lips. “There will be a surprise.” He shot me a look. “How tedious. Whether I read it today or tomorrow, it still says I must marry you, doesn’t it? What is wrong with you today? Are you mad with joy at the thought of finally having me?” I was. I was mad with joy. Because I was finally seeing you again, alive. I smiled. “I think you are the best man in the world. Anyone who marries you will be very, very happy.” “Let’s go,” he grunted, turning away so quickly I might have thought he was blushing, if I didn’t know better. Our carriage rumbled back towards his family’s estate. As we passed the bustling Flower Market, I pulled back the curtain and overheard the chatter of young women. “They say the Maiden Star appears tonight! From the top of the Celestial Spire, you can see a meteor shower that only happens once a century! The legend says that any couple who watches it together will be bound by love for three lifetimes!” I remembered hearing those same words in my past life. I had excitedly begged Cassian to take me. He had looked at me with that chilling, mocking glint in his eyes. “Binding me for one lifetime isn’t torment enough for you? You want three?” he’d sneered. “What a foolish, childish legend. If you want to be taken in by such fantasies, do it alone. Don’t drag me into it.” Even now, the memory of that cold glare sent a shiver down my spine. I quietly let the curtain fall. But this time, a calm voice spoke from beside me. “Do you want to go?” I looked up, startled. “I can take you to the Celestial Spire tonight,” he said, his tone flat. “After we are wed, I won’t have time to accompany you to your parents’ memorial. Consider this my apology in advance.” I stared at him, surprised, yet not. This was Cassian. A viper’s tongue, but a heart softer than anyone knew. He didn’t love me, but he had still given his life to save me. Three times. The first time, we were attacked by brigands on the road. He took a knife to his right arm to protect me. The hand that could put an arrow through a coin at a hundred paces could never again draw a bow. The second time, I contracted the Crimson Fever. He scaled the treacherous Dragon’s Tooth peaks to find the rare Ghost Orchid that would save my life, nearly falling to his death in the process. The third time was the Great Fire at the Royal Keep. He died pushing me from the path of a collapsing beam. Cassian was perfect in every way. He just didn’t love me. I knew that after today, we would be strangers. Even if we stood atop the Celestial Spire and watched the meteor shower of a century, the legend would not apply to us. Still, I pushed down the hot moisture welling in my eyes and gave him a smile so bright it felt cheap. “Yes. Let’s go see the stars together.” 2 Our carriage was stopped halfway. It was a servant from Lilliana’s household. She said Lady Lilliana had one of her terrible headaches and wished to see the Duke. Cassian’s brow furrowed, and he immediately swung himself out of the carriage. “Lilliana is unwell. I must go to her. You go on ahead. I will meet you at the Celestial Spire tonight.” I nodded. “Alright.” He looked at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “You used to mind so much when I went to see her. A sudden change of heart?” I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off with a cold laugh. “Of course. We are to be married soon. She poses no threat to you now.” He strode away, not seeing the bitter, sad smile that touched my lips. I had never tried to stop his fondness for her. The only time I had ever interfered was when I discovered she was having an affair with a high-ranking court official. The evidence was irrefutable. I had tried desperately to keep Cassian from getting entangled with her. But he never knew. After she died, he grieved for ten years. If I had to choose, I would rather see him happy with Lilliana than see him suffer and die for me. My first stop was the city magistrate’s office, where I obtained the documents needed to leave the capital. Then, I returned to the ducal estate. The Duchess had prepared a feast herself, the entire table laden with all my favorite dishes. I reflexively slipped off my white fox-fur cloak and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s cold, Your Grace. You must take care of yourself.” She beamed at me. “My sweet girl, you are always so thoughtful. Now, let me see the Royal Writ! I have waited so long to finally call you my daughter.” The old Duke, seeing I had returned alone, bristled. “That boy didn’t accompany you? The edict has been issued, and he still doesn’t know how to cherish you? When he returns, I will give him a stern talking-to!” Their genuine affection was a painful twist in my gut. After my parents’ deaths, they had taken me in, raised me, given me everything. I had always been an obedient daughter. But this time, I had to betray them. I looked at them both, my expression solemn. “Your Graces, I will not be marrying the Duke.” “Tomorrow, I will be leaving for the Southern Marshes. I will no longer be here to serve you. You must take good care of each other.” The Duchess was stunned. “Your parents died on the battlefield. You grew up here. This estate is your home. Where will you go?” Her voice rose with alarm. “Is it Cassian? Did he mistreat you because of that woman? Is that why you’re calling off the wedding?” “Don’t think like that, my dear. He has feelings for you. He wouldn’t have risked his life to save you twice if he didn’t. Every year for your birthday, he spends months searching for the most unique treasures. I know you love him too. You learned to cook for him, you massage his old injury every day to ease the pain. If you two were to marry, you would be so happy!” “Besides, that Lilliana is a wicked woman. We can’t let her win. Don’t leave just to spite him!” She had said the same things to me in my past life. In the end, I lost my husband, and they lost their son. Everyone was left with a lifetime of regret. I gently wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Your Grace, you cannot force love where it does not grow. I am not the one in Duke Cassian’s heart. I cannot force him to marry me.” “Last night, I had a dream. I dreamt that we were married, but he would not see me. He worked himself to the bone, day and night, until his body was broken. He wouldn’t drink the broth I made for him, wouldn’t let me care for him when he was sick. He said the pain I brought him was greater than any happiness. He even died… died at thirty, saving my life.” The words were a physical pain, making it hard to breathe. The Duchess stared at me. “But… but that’s only a dream, my dear. Cassian would never…” I sniffed, forcing a smile. “Your Graces, dreams can be warnings. I want him to live a long life, even if it means he doesn’t marry me, even if we are not husband and wife.” “He is a man of great rank, but he has so little freedom. I believe, at the very least, he should be able to choose who he marries.” I knelt and bowed my head to the floor three times. “I have my travel papers. I beg you, let me go. I will never forget your kindness. I will repay it for the rest of my days.” The old Duke’s lips thinned. He helped me to my feet. The Duchess, wiping her eyes, pressed a thick stack of bank notes into my hand. “If this is what you have decided, my dear, then I will not stand in your way. But you must remember, no matter what happens, this house will always be your home.” Tears finally spilled down my cheeks. I embraced her. “Thank you, Your Grace.” As long as I cut my ties with Cassian, the tragedy of our past life would not repeat itself. He would live a long life. The Duke and Duchess would not be heartbroken, would not grow to hate me. This time, everyone would have a happy ending. The second of Cassian’s regrets was now fulfilled. I had to complete all three within twelve hours. There was still one left. Would I succeed? That night, I went to the Celestial Spire. Couples were everywhere, come to seek a shared destiny from the stars. “Eleonora.” A familiar voice. I turned, my heart leaping, only to see Cassian’s face, dark with fury. He seized my wrist, his grip like iron, his eyes shot through with red. “You know I despise those who abuse their power. I was gone for a few hours, and you ran to my parents, turning them against Lilliana. They shamed her, humiliated her. She tried to take her own life, Eleonora. Are you satisfied now?” 3 My wrist throbbed, the pain sharp and radiating up my arm. The color drained from my face. In my past life, after Cassian and I were married, Lilliana had tried to kill herself a month later by taking a rare blood-curse poison. Cassian couldn’t find a blood match to create the antidote, and he was forced to watch her die. He had hated me for it, right up until the moment he died himself. But in this life, we weren’t getting married. Why would she still do this? I had been wondering how I would fulfill his third regret. And now, the opportunity had delivered itself to me. I looked at him, my voice calm. “So, you’ve come for my blood to make the antidote, haven’t you?” Cassian froze, clearly not expecting those words. His voice turned even colder. “You think I wouldn’t dare? You drove her to this. It is only right that you atone for it.” He dragged me to Lilliana’s residence. She lay on the bed, her breath shallow, her skin ashen. A physician produced a small, sharp dagger and made an incision on my arm. A fine, sharp pain, and I let out a soft gasp. The physician’s eyes lit up. “The curse reacts! My lady, your blood is a match.” He hesitated. “But to save her, we will need to draw blood directly from your heart. I am not certain your body can withstand such a procedure.” “No!” Cassian’s face paled, his brow furrowed. “Taking heart’s blood is nearly fatal. She can’t endure it. Is there no other way?” The physician looked grave. “Other blood will have a minimal effect. If the Duke is unwilling, then you must prepare for the worst. The lady who gives her heart’s blood may not die, but the one afflicted with this curse most certainly will.” Cassian’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on Lilliana’s pale form. I saw the anguish in his eyes. I looked at the physician. “I will do it. Take what you need.” “But my lady,” the physician protested, looking to Cassian for a final decision, “it will severely damage your vitality.” I managed a weak smile. “It’s alright. I can recover. Saving her is what’s important.” Cassian stared at me, his eyes a storm of unreadable emotions. Finally, he grimaced, tore a strip of fabric from his own white tunic, and used it to blindfold me. “I will owe you a debt,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I will repay you.” Then he was gone. The physician began the procedure. The blade pierced my skin. With every fraction of an inch it sank deeper, the pain became clearer, more defined. My mind drifted back. I was eight years old, my parents newly dead. The other noble children taunted me, said I had no one to protect me. Cassian had chased them off. He had ruffled my hair. “Don’t be afraid,” he’d said. “I will protect you.” He had kept his word. Even as he was dying, he had protected me. How could I not love him? But I knew, from the moment I was reborn, I had to sever that love, no matter the cost. As the heart’s blood was drawn, a warm trickle of blood escaped my own lips. The pain was a white-hot agony, and I collapsed, the world going dark. In the haze, I heard his last words from our previous life. “Eleonora, if only I had never met you in this life…” Tears streamed from under the blindfold. I smiled a faint, weak smile. “Cassian… this time, I will not chain you to me.” When I awoke, the sun was bright. I was in a guest room next door. A deep, throbbing ache radiated from my chest. I was alone, too weak to move. I glanced out the window. It was nearly noon. The twelve hours were almost up. I had to leave. Outside, I could hear the maids chattering. “Did you see the meteor shower last night? It was once in a century!” “I did! It was so beautiful! They say if lovers watch it together, they’ll be together forever!” Hearing their happy voices, a pang of regret shot through me. What a shame. To have missed something so beautiful. A short while later, the door opened, and Cassian entered, carrying a bowl of soup. It was the rich consommé from the royal kitchens, my favorite as a child. For a dizzying moment, I couldn’t believe he remembered. He looked at me, his voice softer than I had heard it in a decade. “Does your heart still ache? Should I call for the royal physician? She is out of danger, thanks to you.” I nodded. “Good.” Seeing my pale face, his brow remained furrowed. “I was harsh with my words yesterday. Don’t take them to heart. But Lilliana was an innocent party. You shouldn’t have dragged her into our affairs. Don’t go to my parents with tales again.” His words still stung, but I didn’t protest or try to explain myself as I would have in my past life. I just forced a smile. “I won’t. There won’t be a next time.” He tucked the blankets around me. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take you to see the stars last night. After we are wed, I will accompany you on a trip. I remember you always wanted to see the Southern Marshes. We can go there after visiting your parents’ memorial.” I froze, then gave a small, sad smile. “There’s no need.” “You don’t have to compensate me for last night. I chose to save Lady Lilliana myself.” Cassian looked taken aback, a flicker of something new in his eyes. “I have already arranged for the carriage to leave in five days. Once you have rested, we will depart.” I just looked at him, saying nothing. The bowl in his hands seemed to tremble. The old injury to his arm, the one he’d gotten protecting me, always ached in the damp weather. Even now, just holding a bowl was a strain. A wave of sympathy washed over me. “Do you regret it?” I asked, my voice soft. “Getting hurt like that, to save me?” His expression was calm. “There is nothing to regret. I would have saved anyone in that situation.” My heart sank. My voice was barely a whisper. “And when I had the fever? When you climbed the cliffs for the Ghost Orchid? Would you have done that for anyone?” “Yes.” Of course. I was nothing special. Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced a bright smile. “Cassian, thank you. For saving me, again and again.” “I had no parents. I was so desperate for a family. That’s why I forced you to marry me. My selfishness must have caused you so much pain, so much torment.” But not anymore. He wouldn’t have to abandon the woman he loved for me. He wouldn’t have to suffer for ten years. He wouldn’t have to die at thirty. This time, he would be alright. I thought I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then, one of Lilliana’s maids rushed in. “Your Grace! My lady is awake, and she is asking for you! She refuses to eat until she sees you. Please, come quickly!” A genuine smile finally broke through Cassian’s grim expression. He glanced at me and stood to leave. “Wait for me here.” “Cassian,” I called out, stopping him at the door. I gave him the most radiant smile I could muster. “I’m sorry. And… I wish you a lifetime of happiness and peace.” He looked startled, a sense of unease clouding his features. “Why are you talking like this? I am just going to check on Lilliana. I will be right back. Eat something. Wait for me. I have something to tell you.” Then, he turned and left. It was almost noon. I forced myself out of bed. The physician came to check on me and left some medicine. I smiled gratefully. “I will take it, thank you, Doctor. And please, could you give the Duke a message for me? Tell him I have left for the Southern Marshes. Tell him to take care, and not to think of me.” After seeing Lilliana, Cassian rushed back to the guest room. It was empty. He called for a servant. “Where is Lady Eleonora? She is not well enough to be out of bed.” Before the servant could answer, one of his personal guards hurried in, his face grim. “Your Grace, terrible news! There was a brigand attack on the road out of the city. Several travelers were wounded, but there was one fatality—a young woman who had just had her heart’s blood drawn. Her name was Eleonora.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393256”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The video of me slapping the hottest starlet of the moment went viral. Her fans swarmed my socials, calling for my blood, while the rest of the internet grabbed their popcorn. 【Charlotte is a dead woman walking. Everyone knows Stella is dating the Astor heir. She’s going to be blacklisted into oblivion!】 Three days later, the Astor heir himself showed up at my reality show’s set. Everyone watched, salivating for the drama, only to see the golden boy of New York society drop to his knees in front of me. “Mom, I’m so sorry!” 1 I hesitated when the producers of Second Act first approached me. It’s not like I needed the money or was desperate for a comeback. The show didn’t offer me much. That is, until I saw a clip from last season where one of the contestants lost twenty pounds. At forty-five, with a metabolism that had long since clocked out, the battle of the bulge was a daily struggle. My eyes lit up. I slapped my thigh. “I’m in!” 2 Once filming started, I was practically invisible. Among the thirty contestants, or “sisters” as they called us, I was far from the most famous. My career highlight had been a few memorable villain roles years ago—the kind of actress you recognize but can’t name. I never monetized my private life, kept my family background under wraps, and had zero interest in sucking up to the production team. Naturally, no investor was lining up to back me. I didn’t care. I was just there for a celebrity weight-loss camp, after all. I threw myself into training, preparing for each performance with professional diligence, and made a point to stay out of everyone’s way. But trouble, it seemed, had a way of finding me. 3 Her name was Stella. She was the youngest and, by far, the most popular star on the show. At only twenty-three, she didn’t exactly fit the “sister” concept, but the network was determined to help her transition from a cutesy pop-tart persona to something more mature. The show had already boosted her fame, making her the main draw for viewers. But it wasn’t enough for her. She wanted to build a new image—the “fearless, independent woman of the new millennium”—and for that, she needed a foil. A punching bag. She chose me. For our second performance, she picked me for her group and immediately started her campaign of micro-aggressions. During rehearsal, I’d be the first to arrive, yet she’d sigh dramatically and say, “Charlotte, I know you’re on the show, but could you please try to think about something other than your husband and kids for a few hours?” I just stared at her. What the hell? I hadn’t so much as mentioned my husband or son since filming began. Later, at dinner, I’d be picking at a plate of grilled chicken breast, and she’d frown with theatrical concern. “I know pregnancy and childbirth can be tough on a woman’s body, Charlotte, but you can’t just let yourself go!” Again, what the hell? I had abs under my shirt and legs for days—longer than hers, thank you very much. I just didn’t feel the need to flaunt them. Then, during a group chat about the industry, she deliberately singled me out. “You quit showbiz for a man, didn’t you, Charlotte? I could never do that. My life is my own.” I just bit my tongue. Get your facts straight before you run your mouth, kid. My acting career was always a side gig. I left to get my doctorate in the States. I was utterly baffled by her. I tried to ignore her, writing it off as childish nonsense, but she only grew more audacious. One night, over dinner, the contestants were discussing whose life they envied the most. Stella suddenly spoke up. “I don’t envy anyone. But the one person I would never want to be is Charlotte. Such a failure, no sense of self. If I were her parents, I’d regret ever having her!” That did it. She had finally poked the bear. She could insult me all she wanted, but she never should have brought up my parents, who had passed away years ago. I was done being patient. I raised my hand. SMACK! The slap echoed through the room. 4 When the episode aired, the clip of me slapping Stella blew up online and shot to the top of the trending topics. The production team, clearly in Stella’s camp, had edited the footage to make her look like a saint. A shot of me in the hallway practicing a rap verse was deceitfully framed as me video-chatting with my family. They spliced my first day’s clumsy dance practice into the final week’s montage to make it look like I’d made zero progress. My singing was auto-tuned in reverse, making me sound painfully off-key. Their goal was clear: to paint me as the lazy, family-obsessed housewife—the most despised archetype for a female celebrity today. The internet unleashed its fury. 【If Charlotte wants to be a housewife so badly, she should just stay home! Why is she wasting our time on the show?】 【Seriously, I can’t stand these slackers who take the money and do nothing. Get her off my screen!】 【I used to like some of her old roles, but now I see what a failure of a woman she really is. So pathetic!】 Meanwhile, Stella was edited to look like a responsible, long-suffering group leader, earning her a massive wave of sympathy and new fans. When the slap scene aired, they conveniently cut out her vicious comment about my parents, making it seem like I’d lashed out simply because I couldn’t handle her constructive criticism. Stella’s fans went ballistic, plastering my face on mock-up funeral photos and cursing my entire family tree. The general public was just as outraged. 【Charlotte went way too far. Is she bullying a junior just because she’s a veteran? Stella was just trying to help her.】 【Old hags like her are always so entitled. She needs to get out of the industry for good!】 【Oh, she won’t be in the industry for long, trust me. Have you all forgotten who Stella’s boyfriend is? Julian Astor! The Astor heir. She’s messing with him now. She’s finished.】 I’d been scrolling through the comments with bored detachment, but that last one made me pause. Wait, what? My son has a girlfriend? Since when? 5 Just in case it was some misunderstanding, I did a quick search for my darling son’s name: Julian Astor. I shouldn’t have. What I found was a digital tabloid shrine dedicated to his romantic escapades. 【Astor Heir Drops Millions to Win a Starlet’s Smile】 【Julian Astor Buys Film Studio on a Whim to Promote His New Flame】 【Rival Actresses Brawl Over Billionaire Scion Julian Astor】 The best part? The male lead was always Julian, but the female lead changed with every headline. And the latest piece of gossip featured none other than Stella. A paparazzi photo showed them holding hands while shopping, under the headline: 【New York’s Golden Boy Steps Out with It-Girl Stella, Drops $200k on Handbags in a Single Day】 I nearly fainted from rage. So this was why my brilliant son had refused to study abroad, why he’d shown no interest in learning the ropes of the family business. He was too busy gallivanting around town, collecting celebrity girlfriends! I may have been an actress once, but now I was a retired businesswoman, fully occupied with managing family assets and my own fitness regimen. I rarely paid attention to celebrity gossip. This was the first I was hearing of my son’s… extracurricular activities. Fuming, I shot him a text. 【You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell your mother?】 The little brat replied almost instantly. 【Which one?】 He must have realized how insane that sounded because he deleted the message a second later and sent a new one. 【Oh, you mean Stella? Yeah, we’re dating. I was actually planning to bring her to meet you in a few days.】 His casual tone told me he had no idea his new girlfriend had just been on the receiving end of a slap from his own mother. Nor did he know that her fans were currently roasting me, him, and our entire lineage online. But that figured. My son loved being the subject of gossip; he had no interest in reading about anyone else. I was about to type back, No need, we’ve already met, when a sharp voice cut through the air. “Charlotte, would you please put down your phone? Stop texting your husband and son for five minutes and focus on the rehearsal!” 6 I looked up to see Stella, her arms crossed. Ever since the slap, her hostility had become a constant, simmering presence. She looked for any excuse to pick a fight. Like now. We were on a break. The other contestants were chatting and on their phones too, but she singled me out. A cold smile touched my lips. “And who are you to talk, Stella? You spend more time glued to your phone than anyone here.” It was the truth. Stella was the one constantly texting and disappearing for hours-long, syrupy-sweet video calls. I’d always assumed she was dating some young heartthrob. I never imagined it was my son. Stella’s face darkened. Before she could retort, one of her little followers chimed in. “You can’t compare, Charlotte,” said Vicky, a lesser-known actress who served as Stella’s sidekick. Her voice dripped with condescension. “Stella is talking to Julian Astor. Do you even know who that is? He’s the Astor heir!” I had to bite back a laugh. The little brat who came out of my own body? Yeah, I think I know who he is. At the mention of Julian’s name, a smug, triumphant smile tugged at Stella’s lips, though she tried to feign modesty. “Vicky, stop. I’ve told Julian I want to keep our relationship low-key.” “Oh, Stella, you’re just too humble!” Vicky gushed. “But how can you be low-key when he’s so crazy about you? When he marries you, I bet he’ll throw you the wedding of the century!” The word “wedding” made Stella’s smile widen uncontrollably. But I, standing off to the side, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Getting a little ahead of yourselves, aren’t you?” I asked, my tone laced with amusement. “Have you even met his parents?” You haven’t even met me, and you’re already planning on marrying into the Astor family? Over my dead body. My question made Stella’s face fall. “What’s that supposed to mean, Charlotte?” she snapped. “So what if I haven’t met his parents yet? He told me he’s taking me to meet his mother very soon!” That announcement captured the attention of every woman in the room. Even the A-listers, who had previously ignored our little feud, couldn’t help but look over. “For real?” Vicky gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in exaggerated shock. “He’s taking you to meet his mother? Oh my God, I heard she’s the legendary heiress of the Astor family, one of the most powerful women in New York! Is it true?” “Yes, yes!” another contestant chimed in, leaning closer. “I’ve heard the stories about Julian’s mom too. She’s incredibly private. No one’s ever gotten a picture of her face, and nobody even knows her full name. Just that she’s the ultimate blue-blooded beauty!” Stella’s chin lifted with pride as she adopted the tone of a seasoned insider. “Of course. Julian told me all about her. She’s the only daughter of the Astor family, a true New York princess in her day. And not just that—while the Astor Corporation has a board of professional managers, she’s the one who really calls the shots. She isn’t just a pretty face with a trust fund; she’s brilliant. A PhD in Finance from an Ivy League school. She made a killing on Wall Street before coming home to take over the family empire. She’s a true icon for women.” A chorus of envious sighs filled the room. I felt a blush creep up my neck. I had no idea Stella held me in such high regard. It almost made me feel bad for slapping her. She was still going. “Basically, Julian’s mom is my idol. She is, without a doubt, the most perfect woman in the world!” This was getting to be too much, even for me. I couldn’t help but clear my throat and mutter, “Well, it’s not that dramatic.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393255”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our wedding anniversary, eight months pregnant, I fell down the stairs. Avery rushed me to the hospital, terrified. As anesthesia took hold, I overheard the surgeon: “We’ve given six times the normal dose—she won’t feel a thing. But the baby’s vitals are stable. Are you sure you want to induce labor? It could paralyze her.” Avery’s voice was ice: “Do it.” “Caleb’s induction into the family is soon. I can’t risk anything threatening his position. This debt is owed to Sabrina and our son.” “Once Caleb’s secure, I’ll heal Daisy. We’ll have another child. But this one… has to die.” A tear slipped down my temple as darkness swallowed me. I woke to a stillborn son and a shattered body—paralyzed from the waist down. Grief was drowned by betrayal. So when Avery spoke of a fresh start, I chose my own path. I faked my death… and disappeared. 1. The news of our son’s death sent me into another spiral of unconsciousness. When I next surfaced, it was to the sound of Avery’s voice, speaking with a friend just outside my room. “You’ve been with Daisy for years, Avery. Don’t you know her at all? If you had just told her Caleb was your son, she would have loved him as her own. Why did you have to do this to her? Turn her into… this?” A long silence followed before Avery’s detached voice finally responded. “I know she would have. But it was a risk I couldn’t afford to take.” “It’s what I promised Sabrina.” “Besides,” he added, his voice chillingly practical, “we can have another child. Daisy is young. We’ll have our own family someday.” The friend sounded incredulous. “This was all because you were afraid Daisy’s child, your legitimate heir, backed by the Sterling family’s influence, would threaten Caleb’s inheritance, wasn’t it? That’s all this was about!” “You’re a monster, Avery! That baby was fully formed. When they carried him out of the OR, I saw him… just a tiny, perfect little thing… How could you?” Hearing this, a phantom tearing sensation ignited in my lower body. The ghost of a baby’s cry echoed in my ears, a razor blade scraping against my heart. The pain was unbearable. “And that’s not even mentioning that Daisy is paralyzed because of you! She’s your wife! Do you have any idea how much she went through, carrying your child for nine months?” “This wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been so stubborn, if she hadn’t secretly pricked holes in the…” Avery’s voice trailed off into what sounded like a sigh. “Sabrina was already making a huge concession by allowing Daisy to have a child of her own at all!” “Do you think I don’t feel the pain of this? But I owe the Quinn family everything. What was I supposed to do?” The friend’s voice dropped to a furious hiss. “You should never have gotten involved with Daisy Sterling in the first place!” The conversation ended, the two men parting in anger. Hidden beneath my blankets, I wept in silence, not daring to make a sound. A moment later, the door opened. “Is it all taken care of?” I felt Avery gently adjusting my covers. “Give them a generous severance. Enough to ensure they never set foot in this country again.” He had sent the entire surgical team abroad. A man of decisive, ruthless action. I laughed, a bitter, silent laugh, and kept my eyes squeezed shut. I had believed he was as excited for our baby’s arrival as I was. When I fell, the only person I hated was myself. I had twisted my body, taking the impact on my back, sacrificing my own well-being to shield my belly from any sharp edges. I never imagined it was all a trap. That it was Avery who had poured oil on the stairs, who had engineered my “accident,” who had an executioner waiting for me at the hospital. What a cold, black heart. The husband I adored, the marriage I cherished—all of it, a lie. For his illegitimate son, Avery had murdered our own flesh and blood. All to fulfill some twisted promise and secure an inheritance. A violent tremor wracked my body. But the searing pain that radiated from my legs was nothing, not even a fraction of the agony consuming my heart. 2. My silent trembling must have been visible, because when Avery returned, he saw the quivering mound under the covers and immediately wrapped his arms around me. His voice was a masterpiece of regret. “Daisy, I promise you, we’ll have another child.” “Trust me. I’ll do everything in my power to heal you. Please, don’t cry.” He kissed my forehead, a gesture of profound, counterfeit love. “When you cry, my heart shatters.” I stared blankly ahead, my gaze venomous. I couldn’t look at him, terrified the raw hatred in my eyes would betray me. “Does it really?” I whispered. Avery gently turned my shoulders to face him. I saw the tear tracks on his cheeks, the raw red rimming his eyes. “How could it not? I love you, and I loved our child.” “No one was more excited for our baby to come into this world than I was. What happened… Daisy, I’m the one in the most pain here.” The man was a virtuoso. No wonder I’d never seen through his despicable charade all these years. I remembered his ecstatic joy when we first found out I was pregnant. He’d been like a man who’d discovered a priceless treasure, too happy to sleep. Throughout the pregnancy, he had been obsessively attentive, hovering over me with a dozen layers of caution every time I went near a staircase. Who could have possibly guessed that even then, he was laying the groundwork for his other son, his real family? “Avery, thank you for the gifts. Caleb loves them.” Avery was asleep beside me, but his phone buzzed incessantly. Using his thumbprint, I unlocked it. My world shrank to the glowing screen. I stared for a long time, fat tears plopping onto the glass. The clothes I had lovingly picked out for our baby had all been exchanged, a month ago, for Caleb’s size. The villa I had dreamed of giving to our child was now occupied by Sabrina and her son. The background of their chat history was a photo of the villa’s garden. The three of them—a perfect family—were sitting together on a swing set, radiant with happiness. My heart went numb. Scrolling further up, I found Avery’s correspondence with a Feng Shui master, discussing the most auspicious date for Caleb’s formal induction into the family. It was three months from now. I closed my eyes, a bitter taste flooding my mouth. Three months. It was more than enough time for me to disappear. “I had this dress custom-made by a designer,” Avery said, holding it up. “No one will be able to tell.” My lower body was slightly misshapen from the injury, and even with a cane, the signs of paralysis were visible. Seeing my eyes well up, Avery rushed to my side. I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I was just thinking about when we first met. You were this thoughtful then, too.” When we’d first met, I’d taken a fall while hiking and scraped my arm. He had meticulously sourced a beautiful, long-sleeved summer gown so I could attend my debutante ball without the scrape showing. It was that meticulous care that had won my heart, convincing me to leave my home and marry him. He smiled, a fond, indulgent smile, and knelt to help me with a medical dressing. “I’ll be even better to you from now on. Don’t overthink things. I’ll never be ashamed of you.” If I hadn’t heard the brutal truth with my own ears, I would never have believed this perfect gentleman was a monster who had murdered his own child. My enemy. The man who had pushed me into this abyss. I had no choice but to play along, to feign a more severe paralysis to lower his guard. I knew him. Even after he brought Sabrina and Caleb into the family, he would never willingly let me go. I secretly contacted my best friend, Chloe, and had her arrange for a new hospital and a new medical team. “You have to be careful,” she had warned. “Avery can’t find out. Not a whisper.” Two weeks passed. One morning, I woke to find Avery sitting by my bed, his eyes red, unable to meet my gaze. “Daisy, I’ve booked the best doctors in the world. We’re going to get the feeling back in your legs. I promise.” Yesterday, during a physical therapy assessment, I had deliberately exaggerated the severity of my condition. As expected, today’s medical report was grim. “Everything else seems to be fine,” the doctor had said, a line I was sure Avery had fed him. “However, if you two are thinking of having another child in the near future, I’m afraid I can’t recommend it.” Temporarily infertile? I scoffed internally. Another lie, courtesy of my husband. Women with amputated limbs could have children, but I, with two legs that could still touch the ground, was being declared barren? It was laughable. Fine. I would play his game. “Avery,” I said, my voice carefully fragile. “I know how much you’ve always wanted a child. Maybe… maybe my legs will never get better. What if… what if we adopted?” 3. Saying the words felt like my heart was bleeding out. Avery didn’t notice. He just looked at me, stunned, then pulled me into a tight embrace. “Trust me, Daisy. This is just a temporary solution.” “Once my parents’ wishes are fulfilled, I’ll take you abroad. We’ll start our own new life, the three of us.” He had it all planned out, down to the country where we would live. The one detail he hadn’t accounted for was me already knowing about Caleb. And he was moving fast. His desperation to legitimize his bastard son was palpable. A few days later, he brought the boy to the hospital. “You’re his mother,” Avery said, his expression cautious, as if afraid I would refuse. “It’s only right that you be the first to meet him.” I looked at the boy standing outside my room. He was impeccably dressed, exuding an air of quiet aristocracy. My hatred reached its zenith. Why did his son get to be born with a silver spoon, to grow up cherished and carefree, while my poor, innocent baby was suffocated before he could even see the world? But a smile remained plastered on my face. “Caleb, is it? Come here.” It was only when I saw the locket around his neck that I understood the true meaning of despair. It was an identical locket to the one Avery had given me on the day I reached nine full months of pregnancy. A family heirloom, he’d said. But the one Caleb wore was older, more worn, infinitely more precious. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Who takes care of you, sweetie? Is she here today?” I wanted to see her. This Sabrina. I wanted to see the woman who had orchestrated my ruin. The words had barely left my mouth when the sharp, confident click of high heels echoed in the room. Avery’s expression changed instantly. “Avery, he’s still so young. I was worried, so I came up… You don’t mind, do you?” It was her. Over the years, every time Avery had gotten drunk and called me to pick him up, I’d seen her hovering in the background. She had been infiltrating our lives all along. I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to show any weakness. “Mrs. Rhodes, hello. I’m Caleb’s mother. I’m also a cardiothoracic surgeon at this hospital. Sabrina Quinn.” She claimed they were university classmates, that Caleb was the result of a one-time accident. He had claimed she was just a surrogate. I knew better. It was just one lie piled on top of another. The pathetic cowards didn’t even have the courage to admit to their affair. “Please, excuse him,” Sabrina said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Caleb just loves making these little trinkets.” Suddenly, the bracelet on her wrist came loose. I stared at it, then my gaze shifted to Avery’s empty wrist. I’d seen it before. It was a crude, handmade thing, but Avery had come home wearing it more than once. Sabrina was marking her territory. I couldn’t maintain my composure any longer. The air in the room was suffocating. “I’m tired, Avery. You should all go.” He didn’t suspect a thing. As Sabrina left, her triumphant smirk was seared into my brain, lingering long after she was gone. I clutched my chest, fighting back the urge to sob. Later that night, Sabrina, on her night shift, came back up to the VIP floor. “Caleb says he really likes Ms. Sterling.” “He wanted her to have this bracelet. I’m so sorry about today, I forgot to take it off.” Avery rubbed his temples. “I don’t wear it often. She probably didn’t even notice. But you should probably avoid her from now on. I don’t want her getting the wrong idea.” “Good. I was so worried she would misunderstand.” Then Sabrina’s tone shifted. “Have you told Ms. Sterling about the family induction ceremony? Her legs… it will be inconvenient. Do you need me to step in…?” “No,” Avery refused without hesitation. “You just need to take care of Caleb.” “Daisy is the lady of this house. My wife. She is the one who should be there for such an occasion.” Suddenly, a nurse rushed in, announcing that I had fallen from my wheelchair. Avery bolted from the room, his face beaded with sweat as he ran back to me. “Daisy! Are you alright?” Just before he burst in, I had twisted my own wrist, a sharp, deliberate motion that brought tears of genuine pain to my eyes. I hadn’t fallen. I had been practicing walking on my own, my recovery far ahead of schedule, when the nurse had suddenly entered to take my temperature. In a panic, I had no choice but to pretend to fall. Avery held me tight, his eyes overflowing with anguish as the nurse described the scene. “Daisy, why are you so foolish?” “Whether you can ever stand again or not, I will always love you.” I hugged him back. If it weren’t for Sabrina and Caleb, I might have been the happiest woman in the world. 4. But his love was worthless. To appease Sabrina, the very next day, he told me it was time for Caleb to be formally welcomed into the family. “Even though he’s adopted,” he lied smoothly, “we have to do this to silence the gossips.” I knew this day was coming. The day Caleb officially became a Rhodes would be the day I left. Meeting Avery’s expectant gaze, I nodded without a word, even offering to help prepare Caleb’s ceremonial attire. Avery was deeply moved. “Caleb will be a good, filial son to you, I promise.” I didn’t want his filial piety! I wanted my own child! The silent, screaming roar inside me was buried beneath a placid exterior, a storm no one could see or hear. After I was discharged, we moved back to the Rhodes family estate. Sabrina and Caleb moved in with us, as if it were their right, and she carried herself with more authority than I, the actual lady of the house, ever had. The elder Rhodeses doted on their newfound grandson, and Sabrina’s status rose accordingly. It was clear they had known about Caleb all along. Only I had been the clown, the fool deceived by a charade for years. On the day of the ceremony, a maid wheeled me into the grand hall of the estate, where the family’s history was enshrined. Sabrina was already waiting. She dismissed the maid and took over the wheelchair, her voice a low, provocative whisper in my ear. “You’ve known all along that Caleb is my child with Avery, haven’t you, Daisy? It’s truly pathetic how you’ve swallowed all this humiliation just to hang on to your title. But what a shame. As grand as the title ‘Mrs. Rhodes’ is, it won’t be yours for much longer.” I smiled faintly. “Are you so proud? Of an illegitimate child born in the shadows? What does it matter if his name is added to the family records?” Sabrina looked at me with exaggerated pity. “After today, Caleb will be groomed as the heir. And you… you’re a cripple. Even if you had managed to produce a child, he would never have compared to my Caleb.” “Oh, and by the way,” she added, her smile turning cruel and sharp, “I heard your baby was a boy, too, wasn’t he?” Her laughter was wild, triumphant. “In a story of two choices, Avery still chose me. Don’t you understand yet?” She could have said anything else. Mocked me in any other way. But why did she have to bring up my poor, lost child? I hadn’t wanted a confrontation. I just wanted to get through this day and leave in peace. Was even that too much to ask? Leaning on my cane, I pushed myself to my feet and swung my hand, the sharp crack of a slap echoing in the hall. “Caleb is a Rhodes. But what, exactly, are you?” At that moment, Caleb ran in and threw his arms around Sabrina’s waist. “Mama! Why did you hit my mama! You’re a bad woman!” The elder Rhodeses followed close behind. Seeing Sabrina clutching her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, their expressions turned to stone. “Daisy, what do you think you’re doing! Who gave you permission to raise a hand in this hall!” Avery’s mother shrieked. “A barren hen is less useful than a dog! Get out! Don’t be an eyesore!” She shoved me, hard.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393254”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel