Author: Momo Chan

The day before my wedding, my best man, Nicholas, hit and killed my father with his car. My fiancée, not only did she not blame him, she posted a picture of their marriage certificate online. I dragged Nicholas to court. I crashed their wedding, demanding justice, and became a laughingstock. At my lowest point, my childhood friend, Rose, proposed to me in front of everyone, promising to be my harbor for life. I said yes. I handed the accident case over to her, trusting her completely. She told me Nicholas was in prison, and I believed her. But in the third year of our marriage, I overheard a conversation between her and her lawyer. “Ms. Monroe, you married Julian just for a pardon letter? For a traffic accident? Was it really worth throwing your own life away?” “It was the only way. By marrying him, I could write the letter in his name, as his family, and set Nicholas free.” “As long as he’s happy abroad, that’s enough. As for me… it doesn’t matter.” So, the marriage I saw as my salvation was nothing but an elaborate lie. The pardon letter, written in my name, and Nicholas’s freedom—that was all she ever wanted. It was me. I was the one who needed to leave. 1 In her office, Rose gazed at a photo of Nicholas on her computer screen, a photo taken somewhere beautiful and far away. Her smile was a fragile, heartbreaking thing. “It’s been three years,” she murmured. “Seeing him happy is enough, even if I’m not the one who gave him that happiness.” “As for Julian… I’m giving him the rest of my life. That should be enough to make up for it. It’s over.” The company’s legal counsel was practically vibrating with frustration. “Ms. Monroe, the company is finally stable. You can’t play games with a homicide case! If our competitors find out about this, it won’t just be you—the entire Monroe family enterprise will be ruined!” “The fact is, Mr. Vance intentionally killed him. Why are you wading into this mess? He doesn’t even love you!” Rose’s face hardened. “That’s enough,” she snapped. “I told you never to bring this up again. I don’t believe Nicholas killed him on purpose. It was an accident. I handled Mr. Jiang’s funeral arrangements myself. I’ve done right by the Jiang family.” Her voice dropped, becoming a fierce, determined whisper. “To save him, I’d give anything. Not just this company. My life.” The lawyer’s voice rose with urgency. “And what about Julian? He’ll find out eventually! The moment he decides to visit Nicholas in prison, your entire plan will fall apart! You used his name to free the man who killed his father! What do you think that will do to him?” Rose was silent for a moment, her fingers reaching out to enlarge the photo on the screen. “Then he’ll never know,” she said finally. “It’s been three years. Nicholas should be getting out soon. Make the arrangements. And remember, don’t let Julian find out.” “Ms. Monroe, as your lawyer, I must remind you: the law has a long reach. You can’t do something like this and not leave a trace. For a murderer, you’re hurting an innocent man. If Julian finds out, you’re finished.” A tear traced a path down my chin. I was shaking so hard the lunchbox I was holding nearly slipped from my grasp. Footsteps approached. I scrambled into the stairwell, my heart hammering against my ribs. So, my father’s fatal accident was never even a real case. Nicholas was never in prison, paying for his crime. He was living it up, free as a bird, in some foreign paradise. And the architect of this whole deception was the woman I loved, my wife. Her humility, her quiet strength, her patient endurance—it was all a performance, all to save the man she truly loved. For three years, I had been living in her beautifully crafted lie. I thought I had found happiness, but I was in hell. The irony was suffocating. I stumbled down the stairs and stood outside the gleaming office building, waiting. For five hours. Finally, the last light in the building winked out. Her silhouette appeared in the doorway. The moment she saw me, her face softened with concern. She took my hand. “You’re here! Why didn’t you come in? How long have you been waiting?” “Not long. I just got here,” I lied. “I know you’ve been busy, so I brought you some soup. Your secretary said you were in a meeting, so I came back out.” “Don’t do this again,” she chided gently. “You’re not well. I’d be heartbroken if you tired yourself out.” She leaned in, pressing a soft, familiar kiss to the corner of my mouth. The gesture was as tender as always, but for the first time, I felt no warmth. A person could really do this. For someone else, they could go to such lengths. She led me to the passenger seat of her car. As she started the engine, she spoke, her tone casual. “By the way, Nicholas should be getting out of prison soon. You two used to be close, and he’s served his time. Besides, the company is working on a lot of projects with the Vance family now, so maybe—” “It’s fine,” I cut in. “It’s all in the past. I won’t cause any trouble. Don’t worry.” She let out a visible sigh of relief, a smile touching her lips. “Thank you for being so understanding, darling. I’m so lucky to have you.” I turned my head to look out the window, silent tears tracing paths down my face. Back at home, while she was in the shower, I opened her laptop. The password was Nicholas’s birthday. The desktop wallpaper was a stunning photo of a beach in the Maldives. That’s where Nicholas had been living for the past three years. I logged into her social media. The profile banner was a photo of her and Nicholas, smiling together. She was only following one person. I clicked on it. The feed was a shrine to Nicholas’s life abroad. The watch on his wrist was the latest model from a brand owned by Monroe Corp. The suit he wore was from Monroe Corp’s newest campaign. Even the villa he was tagged in was a Monroe Corp hotel property. A hotel that had been established three years ago. The only overseas project the Monroe family had ever undertaken. My hand trembled as I clicked on her transaction history. There was only one recipient: Nicholas Vance. A million dollars a month, every month, for three years. I scrolled through the records, my heart turning to ice. I remembered the single word in her social media bio: Waiting. I had asked her about it once. She’d brushed it off, saying it was something she’d written a long time ago. Now, I understood. In three years of marriage, besides the wedding photo on the wall, we didn’t have a single picture together. No matter how much I begged, she’d always say we saw each other every day, so there was no need. Now I knew. It wasn’t that there was no need. It was that I wasn’t a need for her. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh and closed the laptop. I bought myself a one-way ticket out of the country, for a flight three days from now. And I filed the paperwork to cancel all my official documents. Three days to say goodbye to three years. It was enough. I set a countdown as my phone’s wallpaper, a constant reminder. When she came out of the bathroom, I was already in bed, pretending to be asleep. She didn’t say a word. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, as I was getting ready, my phone buzzed. Rose’s voice, laced with confusion, followed immediately after. “Julian, what documents are you canceling?” I quickly snatched the phone from her. “It’s nothing,” I said smoothly. “My ID expired. I just made an appointment to get it renewed. Don’t you have that project meeting today? You should get going.” She didn’t seem to suspect anything. She just nestled into my arms, her warmth a familiar, painful lie. “Thank you, darling. I’m so lucky to have such a thoughtful husband.” I smiled, saying nothing. “As a reward,” she murmured, “how about your wife gives you a big present tonight?” “Okay,” I said. “I’ll be waiting at home.” She was willing to do anything to keep me from causing trouble for Nicholas. This three-year charade was finally coming to an end. The moment she left, I went to the government office and filed the rest of my cancellation papers. Then I went to see a lawyer. When I asked about the pardon letter, he confirmed that a letter from a family member carried legal weight. It was a done deal, irreversible. I didn’t press further. I just had him print out two copies of a divorce agreement. With the papers in hand, I went to Rose’s office. As I walked in, I overheard some employees gossiping. “Is that Ms. Monroe’s husband? I heard he just got back from abroad. That charisma, that physique… no wonder Ms. Monroe is so smitten. I mean, even I’m feeling it!” “It has to be him. That watch he’s wearing is the new Patek Philippe, one of only ten in the world. I saw Ms. Monroe looking at it in her office several times. She even bought him that… so sweet.” “You don’t think that hotel abroad was built just for him, do you? I heard they were childhood sweethearts. You couldn’t even write this stuff in a movie!” I stood outside the door to the top-floor office. I could hear a familiar voice from within. “These past three years… have you been okay?” “Yeah, great. Waking up to the ocean every day, the air just smells like freedom. And I haven’t even thanked you yet. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be—” “Don’t say that. It’s all in the past. I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Helping you… was like helping myself.” Nicholas’s laugh was confident, affectionate. “You haven’t changed a bit. If Julian knew you were secretly helping me, he’d probably lose his mind.” “This watch is too much, I can’t accept it. You should give it to Julian. If I take it, I’m afraid he’ll sue me again.” Classic Nicholas. Taking everything for himself while pretending to be the magnanimous one, shifting all the blame onto me. Three years ago, at the wedding. I had exposed him as a murderer, turning against him and his new bride—my ex-fiancée—completely. But every guest in that room had sided with him, calling me unreasonable. I became a joke. Rose’s arrival had been my only salvation. And now, she was the one who had pushed me into the abyss. Her secretary, rushing to deliver a contract, threw open the door before I could move. Rose’s eyes widened in surprise. “Julian? When did you get here? Don’t get the wrong idea. Nicholas just got out, we were just catching up, that’s all…” “Julian. Long time no see,” Nicholas said, standing up. He was wearing a new, custom-tailored suit from one of Monroe Corp’s brands. His skin was glowing, his body fit. He looked nothing like a man who had just been released from prison. I forced a smile, pushing down the knot of pain in my chest. “It’s fine. I was just in the neighborhood. Since you’re busy, I’ll head home.” Rose, thinking I was angry, chased after me, explaining frantically. “Don’t be like that. I was just asking him how he was doing in prison, that’s all…” “It’s been three years, shouldn’t we let bygones be bygones? Didn’t you say it was all in the past?” Seeing her so flustered, I had to laugh. To save Nicholas, she had sacrificed her own marriage, playing a part for three years. Now that he was safe, who was she performing for? “Yes, it’s in the past. Don’t worry. I’m not an unreasonable person. I keep my word.” “You go back to work. I’ll be good and wait for you at home.” The relief on her face was palpable. She had her secretary personally escort me downstairs. Before I left, she reminded me about the Vance family’s banquet the following night, a celebration for Nicholas’s return. He was the president of their company now, he had an image to maintain. The official story was that he’d been studying abroad. No one mentioned prison. I nodded and said I understood. I wouldn’t cause a scene. Only then did she seem to relax.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393241”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The stomach pain hit me like a fist, and that was when Isabelle kicked me out of the car. My crime? My agony was interrupting the witty banter between her and her childhood friend, Nate. She ignored my pleas, the tinted window gliding up with a soft hum. “So dramatic,” she sighed, her voice a cold whisper before the engine purred and she drove away, leaving me hunched over on the curb. I ended up in the hospital with a perforated stomach. I called her over a dozen times, each call instantly rejected. The next thing I saw was her, the woman I’d loved for eight years, nestled intimately in another man’s arms in the hospital corridor, waiting for an OB-GYN appointment. Isabelle, who had been adamant about us being child-free for our entire relationship, was gazing at him with a syrupy sweetness I hadn’t seen in years. “Nate,” she murmured, “if it’s what you want, of course I’ll have this baby for you.” 1 Later, after I was discharged, I spent a week alone, healing my body and soul at Azure Peak. When I came back, my phone, which had been silent for nearly two weeks, was blowing up with frantic calls from her. “Ethan, are you forgetting to keep tabs on me?!” I finally answered the thirty-ninth call on my way out of the airport. “Ethan, your location shows you’re out of state! Where the hell did you go?” The question was an accusation, sharp and immediate. I didn’t answer, my face calm as I stepped out into the crisp air. When Isabelle pulled up to the curb, she snatched my suitcase without a word, a cold, mocking smirk playing on her lips. “I almost thought you were trying to pull a dramatic little runaway act. But look at you, crawling back with your tail between your legs after just a few days.” She lit a cigarette, the smoke instantly filling the car. “Our wedding is just around the corner. I’m swamped, so I don’t have time to babysit you. Just stay put and don’t cause any more trouble.” I winced, cracking the window. The cold wind was a relief. “We need to stop by the wedding planner’s,” I said, my voice flat. The invitations should be ready by now. She scoffed, hitting the accelerator and peeling out onto the street. When we arrived, she refused to go in, leaning against the car door and scrolling through her phone, a private little smile gracing her lips as she smoked. Inside, the consultant beamed, presenting a stack of elegant boxes. “Mr. Grant, Ms. Vance, your invitations are all ready.” Isabelle glanced over, her eyes landing on the crimson-and-gold cards. “So tacky,” she muttered. “Only you would pick something so garishly red. Zero creativity.” I didn’t argue. I just counted the invitations and pulled out my phone to pay the invoice. Just as I was about to speak, her phone rang. She answered it instantly, and a saccharine, theatrical voice poured from the speaker. “Babe, it’s time for my check-up again! I’ll be on my best behavior if my princess comes to pick me up!” Isabelle hung up, grabbing her keys from her pocket and tossing a single, cold sentence over her shoulder. “You can handle this. I have to go.” It wasn’t a question. It was a declaration. She never doubted for a second that I would simply obey. She was gone before I could even reply. I turned back to the consultant. “These are all paid for,” I said, my voice steady. “You can throw them away. And please, cancel everything else. We won’t be needing your services anymore.” The consultant’s smile faltered. “But, sir… we’re already halfway through the design process. If you cancel now, the deposit is non-refundable…” “Keep it.” As I walked out, it occurred to me that the custom-designed wedding attire I’d paid a fortune for should probably be canceled, too. After handling it all, I walked into a small ramen shop, ordered my favorite spicy broth, and started composing a post for my Instagram feed. The scenery at Azure Peak had been breathtaking. I chose nine of the best photos, a grid of snow-capped mountains and crystal-clear lakes. The caption was just two words: “As promised.” The likes started rolling in. Friends, family… and one from Nate. A moment later, a new post from him popped up on my feed. It was a candid shot of Isabelle, her face soft and focused as she looked at him. The caption read: “A lifetime of promises starts now. A huge thanks to my princess for agreeing to be my surrogate and carry our child!” A flood of “congrats!” and “999” comments filled the space below. I tapped the heart icon, put my phone down, and focused on my noodles. A few minutes later, it started ringing. It was Isabelle. 2 I declined the call, but she was persistent. On the second try, I sighed and answered. “Ethan, you went to Azure Peak alone?” Her voice was low, but laced with a simmering anger. “Didn’t we agree we’d go together after the wedding? A place that romantic… for you to go by yourself, are you trying to embarrass me?” The background was noisy. I could hear the faint, tinny sound of a PA system calling out names, the tell-tale murmur of a hospital waiting room. “It wasn’t about you,” I said calmly. “I just needed to go.” Her outrage, which once would have twisted my gut, now felt like a distant echo. For eight years, I had suggested a trip to Azure Peak. It was my mother’s dying wish for me to see it. But every single time, Isabelle had an excuse. “Ethan, I’m just too busy right now. We’ll go when things calm down.” “Something came up with my family. Maybe next year.” “No time!” Last year, when I brought it up, she didn’t even bother with an excuse. Just a flat, annoyed refusal. I was done waiting. “If that’s all, I’m hanging up.” I didn’t wait for her to reply, just tapped the red icon and felt a wave of relief wash over me. That night, I was working on my laptop in the study when a piece of clothing hit me in the face. “Ethan, can you please pick up after yourself?” Isabelle snapped. “Your clothes are all over the place.” A sharp, metallic decoration on the fabric scratched my cheek, a thin line of stinging pain. “I found this under the sofa. Get your things organized. I don’t want to see it again.” I looked down at the ridiculously skimpy flight attendant costume. “It’s not mine,” I said, my voice cold. Isabelle’s face paled. A flicker of panic crossed her eyes as she snatched the costume off the floor, hiding it behind her back. “Oh, it must be Nate’s. He must have left it here by accident last time he stayed over. I’ll give it back to him.” I said nothing, turning my attention back to my screen. But Isabelle, now consumed with guilt, fumbled in a drawer and pulled out an old, faded cartoon band-aid. She sat beside me, her touch hesitant. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I shouldn’t have thrown that at you. I didn’t see it had… sharp bits.” The sickly sweet smell of the old adhesive made my stomach turn. I pulled away. “It’s fine.” I closed my laptop and headed for the spare bedroom. Isabelle was left frozen in the middle of the room, staring after me long after I had gone. 3 “Ethan, you haven’t been keeping tabs on me lately,” Isabelle said, pushing the door to the study open. She was fresh from the shower, a cloud of steam still clinging to her. As she towel-dried her hair, she added, almost as an afterthought, “And… you feel different. Like you’re avoiding me.” My fingers paused on the keyboard. I thought back. For eight years, we had been in constant contact. Texting, calling, sharing every little detail of our days. Even on the busiest of days, we never broke contact. I had built my life around her. But to her, it was always “keeping tabs.” Now, looking at our message history, our last conversation was over two weeks ago. This distance, this freedom, was exactly what she’d always claimed she wanted. And yet, here she was, complaining. I managed a small smile. “You’re overthinking it. I’ve been busy, that’s all. Didn’t want to bother you.” “Get some sleep,” I added, closing my laptop and picking up my pillow. We had been together for eight years, but we’d been sleeping in separate rooms for the last six months. I hated the smell of smoke. She had actually quit for me once, for three whole years. But the moment Nate came back from overseas, all that effort went up in smoke, literally. Nate was her childhood friend, the one who’d always held a piece of her heart. They thought nothing of sleeping in the same bed, claiming it was something they’d done since they were kids. When I was sick with a fever, desperate for her care, a single phone call from Nate was enough to pull her away. At first, I was consumed by a bitter, helpless jealousy. Why was my girlfriend so entangled with another man? But now? Now, there was nothing. A calm, quiet emptiness. The fact that she was carrying his child barely registered. I had already decided to leave. As I walked towards the door, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “Ethan!” she called out, her voice suddenly fragile. “Tonight… I used mouthwash. The smoke smell is all gone. Can we… can we sleep together?” I didn’t move. She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me from behind. “Ethan, we’re getting married in two weeks. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? A home? A family?” A home. My eyes burned. Yes. For eight years, that’s all I ever wanted. My mother died when I was young, and I’d spent my whole life searching for that sense of security, of belonging. I had been so desperate to build that little world with Isabelle. But I finally understood. Isabelle’s life was a whirlwind of chaos, and Nate would always be at its center. If the rest of my life was going to be this exhausting, this painful… I’d rather have no home at all. I gently pried her hands off me. “We’ll talk about it later.” Then I walked out and closed the door behind me. 4 I submitted my resignation letter first thing in the morning. My boss, who had mentored me for years and guided me up the corporate ladder, called me into his office, confused. “Ethan, is something wrong? Why the sudden resignation?” I smiled. “Just feel like it’s time for a change of scenery. A new city.” He was kind enough not to press. He approved it on the spot. After work, a few colleagues I was close with insisted on a farewell dinner. As we stepped out of the building, a sudden downpour had soaked the streets. We were waiting for a ride when a voice cut through the rain. “Ethan!” A black Audi was parked by the curb. The window rolled down, and Isabelle’s gaze fell on my rain-slicked hair. She frowned. “Get in. I came to pick you up.” I didn’t move. From the passenger seat, a light chuckle. “See, Ethan? I told you she loves you,” Nate said, his voice oozing with false sincerity. “Coming to get you in this weather? I’m so jealous!” He noticed my flat stare and offered a practiced, innocent smile. “Oh, I didn’t have an umbrella today, and I was with her for the check-up, so she insisted on giving me a ride. You don’t mind, right?” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “I don’t mind.” But I made no move to get in the car. Isabelle’s patience wore thin. Just as she was about to snap, my colleague’s Uber arrived. We both climbed in. As I shut the door, I heard her voice, sharp with urgency. “Ethan, I came all this way for you! Where are you going?” I looked back at her, my expression unreadable. “I have plans. My colleague is heading the same way. I’ll see you later.” I closed the door, and the car pulled away, leaving her in my rearview mirror. During dinner, my phone buzzed incessantly with her calls. I silenced it, flipped it face down on the table, and went back to laughing with my friends. After the meal, my colleague’s wife came to pick him up. “Hey man, need a ride home?” he offered. I shook my head. “No, I’m good. You guys go on ahead.” I stayed in the hot pot restaurant, slowly eating from the bubbling, spicy broth. When Isabelle finally found me, she was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her face. Nate was nowhere in sight. She looked lost and pathetic. The moment she walked in, her eyes locked on the crimson, oil-slicked pot, and her nose wrinkled in disapproval. “Ethan, you know you can’t handle spicy food. You’re going to be sick.” I didn’t stop, just lifted a piece of tender meat to my lips. The heat made my eyes water, but I smiled through it. Eight years together, and she still didn’t know that I loved spicy food. She was the one who couldn’t handle it; it gave her mouth sores. So, to make her comfortable, I’d all but given it up, only indulging when I was out alone or with colleagues. Besides, the one who got sick from spicy food was Nate.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393240”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Five years into our relationship, I brought my boyfriend, Gabriel, home for the Christmas holidays to meet my family. At the grand family dinner, my relatives couldn’t stop singing the praises of the man who had once been his state’s valedictorian. But then, my single cousin, Cora, suddenly gagged and ran from the table, clearly fighting a wave of morning sickness. My aunt, her mother, was mortified. She raised her hand, ready to slap her. “You’re an Ivy League graduate!” she shrieked. “How could you let yourself get knocked up by God knows who?” Cora didn’t say a word, just sobbed uncontrollably. That’s when Gabriel stepped forward, catching my aunt’s hand mid-air. “Don’t,” he said, his voice firm. “Don’t scare her. The baby’s mine.” He pulled Cora behind him, shielding her as he led her out of the room, leaving a trail of stunned silence in his wake. He never even gave me a second glance. 1 The ballroom was a whirlwind of noise. Some people were crying, others were shouting. My mind was a complete blank. Just minutes ago, Gabriel had been holding my hand, toasting my parents and elders. My relatives were all fawning over him, calling him brilliant, successful, and yet so humble. Now, under the glare of every eye in the room, he had walked out with my cousin, Cora. Leaving me to clean up the mess. “I knew it,” one of my aunts sneered. “I always said our plain little Vivi couldn’t possibly land a guy like that. What a joke.” “So, does this mean Vivi stole Cora’s boyfriend?” another whispered. “I mean, Cora’s pregnant. How could she do that to her own cousin?” “Well, Gabriel and Cora both went to top-tier universities. They always did make a more fitting pair.” Growing up, everyone had always favored Cora. She was prettier, smarter, and her side of the family had more money. In a situation like this, no one was ever going to take my side. “Vivi, sweetie… what… what on earth just happened?” My mother’s hand, cold as ice, found my wrist. I turned to look at her, but my eyes were drawn past her to my father. His face had gone a horrifying shade of purple. With a sickening thud, he collapsed back into his chair. “Dad! Dad, what’s wrong?” The last shred of his composure, his carefully maintained dignity, had finally been torn to shreds in front of everyone. From the ambulance to the hospital, my mother clutched my hand and wept. But I couldn’t afford to shed a single tear. I ran back and forth, handling admissions, filling out forms, my mind numb. It wasn’t until Dad was out of the emergency room and settled in a private ward that the reality of it all began to sink in. I checked my phone. The only new messages were automated debit alerts from my bank for the hospital fees. Not a single word from Gabriel. Taking a deep breath, I headed to the pharmacy to pick up Dad’s prescriptions. And that’s when I saw him, standing in the hallway, talking to a doctor I recognized as one of his old college friends. “Man, I never took you for the shotgun wedding type,” the friend said, clapping Gabriel on the shoulder. Gabriel’s gaze was distant. “The baby isn’t mine,” he said quietly. “I just… I couldn’t stand to see her judged like that.” “Then why are you here in the middle of the night, getting her admitted for observation? I thought you were with her cousin, Vivi. Weren’t you two about to get engaged?” Gabriel just hummed in agreement, a soft, noncommittal sound. “So you’re spending Christmas Eve with Cora, and you’re not worried your girlfriend is going to lose it?” “Cora’s well-being comes first. Once she’s okay, I can relax,” Gabriel said, his voice laced with a strange sort of resolve. “Besides, I’m going to marry Vivi. I’ll have the rest of my life to spend with her. What’s one night?” The doctor sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re still carrying that torch for her. After all this time. Does she even appreciate what you do for her?” “I don’t need her to. As long as she’s okay, that’s enough,” Gabriel murmured, more to himself than to his friend. “Being part of her family, being able to look after her… that’s all I’ve ever really wanted.” A memory flashed in my mind. The first time Cora introduced me to Gabriel. He was already a legend at our high school, the valedictorian everyone still talked about years after he’d graduated. Cora had playfully pushed me toward him. “This is my cousin, Vivi. She’s your biggest fan.” I was so busy blushing I didn’t notice that every time Gabriel spoke, his eyes never left Cora. He asked me out not long after that. All this time, I thought it was love at first sight. I never realized I was just his way of staying close to her. “Gabriel,” a soft voice called. It was Cora, pale and frail in a hospital gown. Gabriel rushed to her side instantly, his voice softening. “What are you doing out of bed? It’s freezing out here.” “You were gone for so long. I got scared.” He immediately shrugged off his expensive wool coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Let’s get you back. We can’t have you catching a chill. Just be good, let the doctors run their tests, and if everything looks good tomorrow, you can go home.” Cora leaned into his embrace, and for a moment, they looked just like a devoted, loving couple. My voice trembled when I finally found it. “Gabriel!” 2 When Gabriel turned and saw me, the warmth on his face vanished, replaced by a cold mask of irritation. He strode over, blocking my path. “Cora needs to rest. Don’t you dare start trouble with her. I’ll explain everything to you later.” He actually thought I’d come to the hospital to confront Cora. “Explain?” I shot back, my voice rising. “What is there to explain? My father is in here because of you! He had a—” “Don’t make a scene!” he snapped, his patience gone. “Your cousin is in a fragile state. The doctor said her pregnancy is high-risk right now. Did you really have to follow us here to cause more drama? Can’t you be reasonable for once?” “Gabriel,” Cora’s weak voice drifted over. “Don’t be so harsh with Vivi. Please, just explain things to her patiently. She must be feeling so hurt after we just left like that.” Her words were like a magic spell, instantly smoothing the sharp edges of his anger. “I’ll explain it all another time,” he said to me, his tone softening slightly. “It’s not what you think. And don’t worry, I’m still going to marry you. Just… go home for now.” So that’s all it took. A single sentence from Cora, and he was gentle with me again. How pathetic. I didn’t say another word. I just turned and walked away. I spent the night by my father’s bedside. A message from Gabriel finally came through. 【Vivi, please don’t worry. The baby isn’t mine. Your cousin got involved with a real jerk, and I can’t let her face the fallout alone.】 【I’m sorry if I hurt you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.】 【Once this is all over, we’ll get our marriage license. We’ll go to Italy for our honeymoon, just like we planned. And when we get back to New York, I’ll sign over 1% of my company’s stock to you.】 I switched off my phone, a bitter laugh stuck in my throat. In his world, a promise of marriage and a payout could smooth over any wound. He couldn’t bear to see Cora face the gossip, so he’d simply redirected it all onto me. And now my father was lying in a hospital bed, recovering from a heart attack. What good were apologies and compensation now? “Vivi…” My dad was awake, looking as though he’d aged a decade overnight. I knelt by his bed, gripping his hand tightly. “You two should just… end it,” he rasped. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. Even after everything, his first thought was for me, worried I was with the wrong man. “Okay, Dad,” I whispered, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. “I’ll listen to you. Don’t you worry about me.” The next day, my mom arrived at the hospital, and almost immediately, her phone rang. It was Aunt Carol. Mom stepped out of the room to take the call, and I followed her into the main lobby. “Gabriel is such a dear!” my aunt’s voice chirped through the phone. “He gave us such a wonderful surprise, showing up this morning with a case of that expensive Scotch!” Then her tone shifted. “Say, sis, you know all those high-end wellness tonics you bought for Vivi? How about you send some over for Cora? She’s so drained right now. It’s not like Vivi needs them anymore, right?” I saw the corners of my mom’s eyes turn red, tears welling up. Before she could break, I snatched the phone from her hand. “Aunt Carol,” I said, my voice bright and cheerful. “You’re right, expectant mothers need the best. I have a friend in Switzerland who sources these amazing artisanal supplements. I’ll send you her contact info in a bit.” “Hey! Why are you being so stingy—” I hung up before she could finish. “The nerve of that woman!” Mom fumed, her face pale with anger. “Her daughter steals your boyfriend, and she has the audacity to ask me for gifts?” I wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders. “It’s okay, Mom. Don’t be angry. No one stole him. I’m the one who doesn’t want him anymore.” As the words left my mouth, my eyes met a pair of cold, familiar ones. It was Gabriel, standing at the hospital entrance, his arms laden with shopping bags. 3 “What is he doing here?” Mom whispered urgently. “Tell him to leave. Your father doesn’t want to see him.” Gabriel’s gaze swept over us, his tone laced with disapproval. “Vivi, why did you bring your mother here? Cora needs to rest. You two shouldn’t be disturbing her.” I glanced at the bags in his hands. Boxes of premium supplements, prenatal vitamins, specialty teas. It clicked. He wasn’t here to visit my father. He was here to dote on Cora. I held my mom’s shaking shoulder. “Don’t worry,” I said, loud enough for him to hear. “We’re not here to see Cora.” As I turned to lead my mom away, Gabriel’s voice stopped me. “What did you say just now? Who is it you don’t want anymore?” The last thing I wanted was to fight with him in front of my mother. I spun a quick lie. “A puppy,” I said breezily. “My mom saw one she liked, but I was afraid it wouldn’t train well. So I said no.” Gabriel frowned, seemingly oblivious to the barb in my words. “Just take your mother home,” he said dismissively. My mom, worried about me, insisted I go home and get some real sleep. But instead of sleeping, I found myself wrapped in my duvet, my thumb hovering over Cora’s profile. I opened her Instagram. She’d posted a photo of a signed contract for a luxury postpartum recovery suite, a bouquet of white roses placed artfully beside it. I’d only seen that place in celebrity magazines; a famous actress had spent hundreds of thousands on her stay there. The caption read: 【All the panic, all the helplessness… you ended it in a single moment. With you here, what is there to be afraid of? 】 Gabriel had certainly spared no expense. I scrolled down through the comments, a flood of congratulations from friends and relatives. And right at the bottom, a comment from Gabriel himself: 【I’ll always be here.】 He’d never made a promise like that to me. I remembered a time I had the flu, my fever spiking to 104. Delirious, I’d called him on his business trip. A few hours later, he was there, having caught the first flight back to take me to the hospital. After my fever broke, he’d scolded me, his face tight with annoyance. “You’re a grown woman, Vivi. You have to learn to take care of yourself. I can’t always be by your side.” At the time, I thought he was just worried, speaking harshly out of concern. Now I understood. He was just telling me the truth. His promises were meant for someone else.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393239”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Eight years ago, to protect Lily, I fought a long and bitter war with a man named Anthony. Even though she was a mute, I ignored my family’s vehement objections and married her anyway. Eight years later, our house was on fire. I risked my life to save her, but to protect a wooden doll that looked unnervingly like Anthony, she shoved me back into the inferno. “Lily, just pretend to be mute. Just for me, okay? He’ll definitely fall for you.” “Okay.” That single recording, saved in a folder on her computer labeled “My Love,” plunged me into an icy abyss. All this time, what I thought was love at first sight had been a meticulously planned deception. Looking at her now, still refusing to speak, still covering for Anthony, a sharp, unrelenting pain seized my heart. But on the day I finally decided to leave her, I received a strange phone call. “Leo… don’t… don’t leave me. You’re all I have…” It was the seventh day of my hospital stay, and Lily still hadn’t come to see me. I stared blankly at the exquisitely crafted wooden figure in my hands, at the hauntingly familiar face carved into it, and felt my heart plummet into a frozen cavern. No one knew that face better than I did. After all, I had fought him for so long to keep Lily by my side. Before I could put the doll down, the door to my room burst open. It was Lily. She looked at me, her expression frantic, her brow furrowed as her gaze darted to the doll in my hands. Her look was an accusation, with no hint of concern for my bandaged, recovering body. “Leo! Why did you take this? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for it?” Panting, she signed at me with furious speed, desperate, guttural sounds escaping her throat as she lunged to snatch the doll from my grasp. So, it was for the doll. Of course. Otherwise, she would have already taken it to see Anthony, to celebrate his birthday. She wouldn’t have wasted her time coming here. A doctor who had just walked in was stunned by the scene. I held on tight, my grip unyielding, but she was strong enough to yank me bodily from the hospital bed. I teetered on the edge, about to fall. “Hey! What are you doing?!” a nurse shouted. I looked at Lily, still wrestling with me, and a bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. I let go. She got the doll, and I crashed to the floor. Damn, that hurt. But the physical pain somehow dulled the ache in my chest. Lily froze, staring at the doll in her hands. A flicker of panic crossed her face. She glanced at me as if finally remembering I was there, and reached out a hand to help me up. I flinched away, shifting my body to avoid her touch. Her hand hung in the air for a moment before she awkwardly pulled it back. The doctor, furious, began to reprimand her for agitating a patient, but fell silent when he realized she was mute. “Don’t be upset,” she began to sign, her movements slow and pleading. “Let’s just forget this happened, okay? I promised you, I’ll make you a new one…” “Get out!” I didn’t wait for her to finish her pathetic pantomime. I grabbed the water glass from my bedside table and hurled it at her. That laughable promise, which once might have meant something, now only filled me with disgust. “Lily, where’s my gift?” As we stood in a tense stalemate, a new voice cut through the air. Anthony stood at the doorway, a smug look on his face as he watched Lily. Then, feigning surprise, he turned to me. “Well, if it isn’t Leo. Look at you. It’s been years. What a mess you’ve become.” The sound of more voices drifted in from the hallway. My old colleagues, the people I used to work with, were all filing in behind him. They stared, wide-eyed, at the pathetic sight I made on the floor. “Can’t you see? Anthony planned this,” one of them whispered, not quite quietly enough. “Poor Leo. What a tragedy, falling for a backstabbing viper like her…” And just like that, it all clicked into place. I looked at Lily’s pale face. Her hands trembled as she offered the doll to Anthony, the hopeful, eager light in her eyes telling me everything I needed to know. Liars. All of them. Anthony snatched the doll, then tossed it aside with a look of disgust. He immediately turned his attention back to me, mocking my current state, seizing every opportunity to show how much better he was doing. I was no longer the cheerful crusader I’d once been. “All of you, get out!” I roared. I closed my eyes, shutting out their false words of comfort and pity, and told the doctor to call security and have them all removed. “I don’t want you to keep being deceived.” I was at home, groggy and still healing, when the text message arrived. It was from Claire, a friend I hadn’t spoken to in years. Attached was a full audio file. In the recording, I heard Anthony’s low, indulgent laughter, and then the soft, mumbled sounds of a voice I knew better than my own—Lily’s. “Lily, if you get together with him, I’ll accept your gift.” “We grew up together, and he’s so into you. Just do this one favor for me, okay? It’s not like you’re losing anything.” “Okay. I promise.” My heart grew colder with each word. Listening to that soft, feminine voice—a voice I had never heard—I didn’t even realize when the tears started streaming down my face. For eight years, she hadn’t spoken a single word, all because of a request from Anthony. As the recording played on, the coldness seeped deeper into my bones, colder even than when she had abandoned me in the fire. So, from the very beginning, her love for me had been a lie. I stared at the wedding photo hanging on our wall, remembering the vows we’d exchanged. With a guttural cry, I hurled my phone at the frame, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces. Lily walked in at that moment and jumped, startled by the scene. But her expression quickly hardened, confident that I would, as always, be the one to back down and comfort her. But I just sat there on the sofa, silent. “Today was an accident,” she signed, her hands moving tentatively. “I really did want to see you. How’s your hand?” She seemed unable to bear the silence any longer. But I kept my head down, refusing to look at her. She was performing a one-woman show to an empty audience, her hands aching but too afraid to stop, that same pathetic, pitiful look on her face. “If you can’t speak, then don’t make those grating noises. I can’t stand to hear them.” My voice was ice. Lily froze, her face a mask of shock. The hand she had reached out to tend to my wound snapped back as if burned. I had never used her muteness against her, never thrown it in her face. This was a first. The thought that the person I had loved for over a decade could be so repulsive made me shut my eyes in disgust. “Mark, I’m coming back to the studio,” I said into the phone later. “As for Lily… I’m done.” “Boss, you’re finally back! You’re finally letting go of that woman?” Mark, my lead designer, looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, but he was practically vibrating with excitement. His face soured, though, when I mentioned Anthony. I looked around the studio, at the awards on the shelves and the design blueprints on the walls. It felt like I was seeing them from a lifetime away. For all these years, I had poured everything into Lily, completely forgetting the man I used to be. Anthony and I had grown up together, and we’d despised each other from the start. I couldn’t stand the way he bullied Lily, who couldn’t speak up for herself. The day I saw him force her to go out and buy him something in a torrential downpour, something inside me snapped. I stormed over and grabbed her hand. “Are you an idiot? You’ll do anything he says? What, are you mute or something?” But then I looked into her wide, rain-slicked eyes, and my heart skipped a beat. I cursed under my breath and wiped the rain from my face, annoyed at myself for forgetting she really was mute. Lily just stared at me, not with irritation, but with a quiet curiosity. She nodded obediently and offered me a gentle smile. I never forgot that moment, not even after we were married for years. I gave up my own dreams, my own ambitions, to build a world for her. And now, to realize it was all a scam from the beginning, a game Anthony used her to play to get back at me… I sighed and shared a look with Mark. A real smile, for the first time in a long time. “I’m not leaving again,” I said. “This time, I’m here to stay.” Getting back into the rhythm of work was exhausting but fulfilling. My mood would have been perfect, if not for the sight of Lily waiting for me outside the studio. “Why won’t you come home?” she signed, her eyes filled with a convincing, weary sadness. I ignored her, just as so many others had ignored her in the past. I turned away, leaving her standing there, and started talking to my colleagues. People stared at her, their expressions a mixture of confusion and pity. They couldn’t understand what the mute woman wanted. Someone even wondered aloud if she was a beggar. I glanced at her clothes, torn and scuffed from a fall, and felt nothing. I used to be the one to jump to her defense, my heart aching for her. Not anymore. I wasn’t going to be the fool in this play. “Leo, old friend. How about a reunion? And you too, Lily.” Anthony had appeared out of nowhere, a teasing glint in his eye. I frowned and looked at Lily. Her eyes went wide, and she frantically waved her hands, trying to signal that she hadn’t been the one to call him here. “Sure, why not,” I said. Just then, my phone buzzed with another message from Claire. The information within made my blood run even colder, but I kept my expression neutral. “Anthony,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Your girlfriend will be there too, right?” The reunion was packed. Not just the three of us, but a crowd of our old friends and classmates. They joked about my “grand romantic gesture” back in the day, how the star-crossed lovers had finally ended up together. “But wait,” someone piped up. “Didn’t Lily used to have a thing for Anthony?” The ill-timed question silenced the room. All eyes turned to us, hungry for drama. What a show, I thought, looking at Lily. How long are you going to keep up this act? “I don’t care who she likes,” I said, my voice light, letting out a small laugh. “Because I’m done with this mute. She’s just a fool who plays with blocks of wood.” The crowd went dead silent. For years, they had mocked me for being with Lily, calling me a “white knight” with a savior complex. Lily had always hidden behind me while I fought her battles. This was a new dynamic. Lily stood there, humiliated, and looked to me for help as the whispers and snickers started. What was she looking at me for? I turned my gaze to Anthony. He was pointedly ignoring her too, a look of irritation on his face. I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “That’s not right,” I said, my voice dangerously soft. “As I recall, Anthony had feelings for Lily, too. Maybe we should let Jenna hear some of your sweet nothings. Or maybe she’d like to see the wooden doll Lily has been saving for you for years.” A collective gasp went through the room. This was better than they could have hoped for. Beside me, Jenna’s face, which had been impassive until now, turned thunderous. “What did you say?” she demanded, turning on Anthony. “You and that… that mute. You haven’t been in contact, have you? And what’s this about a wood carving?” I sneered, watching Anthony’s face drain of color. I deliberately pulled out my phone, making a show of finding the audio file. “What do you think you’re doing! Don’t you dare try to frame us! Everyone knows you’ve always been jealous of me! You married a mute carpenter, and now that you can’t compete, you’re trying to ruin my life!” Anthony, completely unhinged, lunged at me, acting as if he had no idea what recording I was talking about. The moment his hands grabbed my collar, Lily, who had been sitting frozen, shot to her feet. With a strength I didn’t know she possessed, she tore us apart. Her face was a mask of anxiety as she checked the red marks on my neck, her hands flying as she asked if I was okay. I dodged her touch with a click of my tongue, turning away coldly. Lily tried to reach for me again, but Jenna, now incandescent with rage, kicked her hard in the back of the leg. Lily crumpled to her knees. “So that’s why,” Jenna snarled, towering over her. “That’s why Anthony suddenly invited you two. It was always about you, wasn’t it? You pathetic mute, still trying to climb the social ladder?” The others now openly jeered at Lily. She had always been the aloof, untouchable artist, protected by me. The polite respect they’d shown her was a facade. Now, their eyes were filled with nothing but contempt. “Still playing the high and mighty princess…” someone sneered from the crowd. Listening to the taunts, watching her get hit without being able to even cry out, a small, dark part of me felt a sliver of satisfaction. “My apologies. Have I come at a bad time?” A new voice cut through the noise. The crowd turned to the door. “Quite a party.” It was Claire. I raised an eyebrow, not surprised. I gave her a nod of thanks for the intel she’d sent. But Claire’s gaze was fixed on Lily, on the floor, and her expression was one of disappointment. Claire rarely attended these kinds of events, so her arrival immediately shifted the room’s focus. The gossip was forgotten as everyone flocked to suck up to the wealthy heiress. “Don’t be angry, Leo,” Lily signed desperately, pulling at my sleeve now that the attention was off her. “That’s all in the past. My heart is only with you. I only love you. Just let go of this feud with Anthony.” Still for Anthony. Even now, she couldn’t tell me the truth. I watched her frantic pledges of loyalty and found them utterly ridiculous. I forced a smile and nodded, my heart finally, completely dead. In her joyful eyes, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around Lily. “It’s over now. It’s really and truly over. Goodbye, Lily. I’m just heading to the studio for a bit.” Lily hugged me back tightly, nodding hard, but she wouldn’t let go. “I don’t know why,” she signed slowly, her hands trembling, “but I have a feeling you’re not coming back.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393238”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The last male phoenix had fallen. Now, the survival of the flock rested on the females, who were forced to drink from the Birthing River to propagate their kind. But I, the one with the greatest potential to conceive an Ancient Phoenix of legend, turned my back on the River. Under the bewildered gazes of my people, I cast myself into the Abyss of Eternal Flame. In my previous life, I had poured my very essence, every drop of my life force, into nurturing the most noble of all phoenixes—a Golden Phoenix. But on the day of its presentation at the Sunstone Altar, it pierced my chest with a single, brutal claw, then flew into the arms of my stepsister, cooing and calling her “Mother.” My stepsister became the revered Phoenix Matron, destined to ascend to godhood, while I was branded a child-thief. My feathers were torn from my body, and I was thrown into the Abyss to burn alive. Even as I died, I couldn’t understand. The Golden Phoenix was my child. Why did it call another its mother? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was to drink from the Birthing River. … The waters of the Birthing River flowed languidly before me. It wasn’t until my stepsister, Elara, called my name for the third time that the searing memory of being plucked bare and consumed by fire finally released its grip. “With your power, sister, I can only imagine what kind of phoenix you’ll bring forth! My guess… it will be the Golden Phoenix of old, the most noble of all!” Seeing Elara’s innocent, harmless smile sent a sudden, icy sweat down my spine. The agony of my last life—my child stolen, my name cursed, my body desecrated—was still terrifyingly vivid. With that thought searing my mind, I didn’t hesitate. I stood up and turned to leave. If drinking from this river meant birthing a child that would betray me, then I simply wouldn’t drink. Elara’s expression changed in an instant. She moved to block my path while shouting for the Matriarch. “Mother! Look at sister! What’s wrong with her? Why is she leaving?” The Matriarch appeared before me, her smile as warm and benevolent as ever, but the warmth never reached her eyes. “Lyra, my dear, don’t be willful. Every phoenix must drink from the River and bear young. It is the law of our flock. To defy it is to invite a curse upon yourself.” The current Matriarch of the Phoenix Flock was Elara’s mother—my stepmother, Morgana. My own mother, a magnificent Rainbow Phoenix, had been the previous Matriarch. She had fallen into dark sorcery and perished soon after I was born, leaving me to be raised by my stepmother. After my father’s passing, the few remaining male phoenixes had dwindled, one by one, until none were left. The law requiring the females to drink from the Birthing River had been established by the council of elders. Every one of us had sworn a blood oath: for the future of the flock, we would bear young, regardless of our own standing or power. Furthermore, only the one who birthed the most powerful fledgling would become the next Matriarch. Elara’s bloodline was diluted, her own power weak. She could drink the entire river dry and likely never produce a phoenix of any real note. But I was different. I was of pure lineage, my procreative essence the strongest among all the females of the flock. In my past life, my sole ambition had been to hatch the most powerful phoenix, to become Matriarch and repay Morgana for her years of kindness. Elara and I had drunk from the River at the same time, conceived at the same time, and laid our eggs at the same time. The ancient phoenix tome Morgana had given me said that by feeding the egg with one’s own heart’s blood and using a secret ritual, a Golden Phoenix could be born. I hadn’t suspected a thing. I did as I was told, draining my life force, enduring ten days of agonizing struggle, until finally, a rare and magnificent Golden Phoenix hatched from the shell. Weak and trembling, I carried the fledgling in my arms to the Sunstone Altar, ready to be declared the Phoenix Matron and inherit the title of Matriarch. But then, without warning, the creature in my arms lashed out, its sharp talons tearing through my chest. It then soared gracefully into Elara’s embrace, nuzzling against her and chirping, “Mother.” A fledgling’s bond with its birth mother is instinctual, absolute. No one would ever doubt the child was Elara’s. Elara stroked the Golden Phoenix’s head, her expression a mask of regret as she looked at me. “Sister, how could you be so cruel? To secretly switch my egg with your own! I want to honor the bond we share, but as the new Matriarch, I must uphold the law. You must be punished.” Her words, so seemingly righteous, painted me as a monster. The flock turned on me, their disgust palpable as they swarmed forward, tearing my feathers from my flesh. I lay bloodied on the altar, enduring the scorn of my people. “Disgusting! After all the Matriarch has done for her, she steals another’s child! She has no shame!” “Whoever said Lyra was powerful must be blind. Elara birthed a Golden Phoenix! Her essence is clearly stronger. Lyra was just jealous, she stole it! She’s as vile as her corrupted mother. She should be cast out of the Phoenix Vale!” On the day of Elara’s ascension, I was thrown out, barely clinging to life. As I struggled to my feet, someone seized me and hurled me into the Abyss of Eternal Flame to be burned alive. Even in death, I never understood how Elara had managed to steal my child. Now, looking at the mother and daughter duo frantically trying to stop me from leaving, a plan began to form in my mind. “I just feel a bit unwell,” I said, feigning weakness. “I want to go back and rest. I’ll come back another time.” My stepmother let out a sigh of relief. “Then I’ll have your sister accompany you. You can come back and drink together next time.” I frowned. There were many other phoenixes by the riverbank, drinking the water and birthing perfectly normal fledglings. The river was constantly flowing; the water itself wasn’t the problem. Could it be the timing? Was I not supposed to drink at the same time as Elara? Morgana had been Matriarch for many years; she likely knew secrets of our people that I did not. Perhaps if Elara and I drank together, we were breaking some ancient taboo. “No need,” I said, forcing a smile. “I think I’m feeling better now.” Elara and I went to the river’s edge. I watched as she drank first. Then, shielding my mouth with my sleeve, I pretended to drink, but secretly collected some of the water in a flask to take with me. If the heavens were giving me a second chance, I would not overlook a single detail this time. Back in my chambers, just as in my previous life, my stepmother brought me a collection of potent herbs and that same secret tome on incubation. I accepted them with a smile, but as soon as I was alone, I summoned a brazier and burned them all to ash. I had once believed my stepmother to be the kindest of souls. She always treated me better than her own daughter. Growing up, every rare treasure, every potent artifact, was given to me first. When Elara looked on with envy, I, loving my sister, would share them with her. This always sent my stepmother into a rage, and she would harshly scold Elara. The entire flock praised her for her selflessness. They trusted her completely. And I… I had truly thought of her as my own mother. When she was injured gathering herbs, I, though just a child, had recklessly thrown myself into danger to protect her. I had treated Elara like my own flesh and blood, depleting my own life force time and again to help her advance her power. Only after my first life did I understand. Everything my stepmother had done was simply to pave the way for her own daughter. In their eyes, I was nothing but a vessel. A tool for birthing a legendary phoenix. So, even though I hadn’t figured out the exact nature of the deception, I wouldn’t so much as glance at that tome again. I drank the water from the Birthing River and quietly waited for the changes in my body. The same strange sensation of life coalescing within me returned. I could feel the water flow to my womb, emitting a warm, white glow. This time, I didn’t expend any extra life force, nor did I take any of the herbs meant to strengthen the conception. I let go of my obsession with birthing a Golden Phoenix. Soon, my belly swelled slightly, and I laid a pure white, unadorned egg. I didn’t rush to incubate it. Instead, under the cover of night, I snuck into the flock’s forbidden sanctuary. This was the place where my mother had once lived. After she fell to dark sorcery, the flock deemed it cursed and forbade anyone from entering. My memories of my mother were a complete blank. From a young age, Morgana had told me that my mother was beautiful but restless, that she had abandoned me as a child to run away with a demon lord. My father’s attitude toward me had always been distant. Only Morgana had showered me with unconditional love. So, for my entire life, I had avoided thinking about my real mother, trying to be Morgana’s daughter instead. But the truth was becoming clear: the past was not as Morgana had described it. There wasn’t much left in my mother’s sanctuary, but every single item was connected to me. My childhood toys, my favorite snacks, even the small nest I had slept in as a fledgling. My eyes stung. How could my mother not have loved me? There had to be more to the story. Among a pile of old books, I found an incubation manual. Back in my room, I followed my mother’s instructions. From the egg hatched not a simple phoenix, but a Rainbow Phoenix! Rainbow Phoenixes were even rarer than the Golden ones. And my little Rainbow Phoenix was incredibly powerful; its future would be extraordinary. My own mother had been a Rainbow Phoenix. They were known to be gentler, more intelligent and understanding than the proud, arrogant Golden Phoenixes. This would be a child who was truly mine. My heart swelled with joy. After all my efforts, this child would belong to me and me alone. The Matriarch’s seat was within my grasp! Cradling the still-unopened eyes of my fledgling, I headed for the Sunstone Altar. On the way, I overheard the others talking. “Did you hear? Someone stole Elara’s fledgling!” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Elara’s bloodline is weak. She couldn’t have birthed anything special. Who would steal from her? If anyone’s child was worth stealing, it would be Lyra’s. Her essence is so strong, she might have actually hatched a Golden Phoenix!” “And get this, Elara is going around claiming she hatched a Rainbow Phoenix! That’s hilarious. Rainbow Phoenixes are even rarer than Golden ones!” A cold dread washed over me. Elara’s egg had also hatched a Rainbow Phoenix? This couldn’t be a coincidence. The gossiping flock members saw me and rushed over, their faces alight with curiosity. “Lyra! Has your egg hatched yet? What kind of phoenix is it?” In the distance, I saw Morgana, supporting a distraught Elara, searching frantically. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. I ignored everyone, turned, and ran. I bolted back to my chambers and barred the door. My heart hammered against my ribs. I had to know if the fledgling would recognize me as its mother. I drew a drop of my heart’s blood and let it fall onto the fledgling’s closed eyelids. The little Rainbow Phoenix opened its eyes. It looked at me with no emotion whatsoever. Then, Elara’s voice came from outside my door.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393237”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the Grand Jewel Gala, my competition piece was swapped with a stolen antique. I was arrested on the spot and sentenced to five years in prison. For one thousand, eight hundred days, I counted the slivers of light that pierced my cell window, enduring inhuman torment. The day I was released, my husband, Lucas, and our son came to pick me up. He gently draped his coat over my shoulders. My son, his eyes red-rimmed, threw himself into my arms. In that moment, I thought my suffering was finally over. At least I still had them. Until I received a video. My ten-year-old son was looking up at his father, his voice clear and innocent. “Dad, I helped Aunt Iris win the award by switching Mom’s design. Is she happy?” “But Mom was in prison for five years. People stare at her everywhere, and the kids at school make fun of me…” Lucas’s hand rested heavily on his son’s head. “This,” he said, his voice grave, “is something you must take to your grave. Never speak of it again.” “It’s your mother’s fault for being so selfish. Your Aunt Iris grew up with nothing. Do you know how much that award meant to her? Your mother has everything, yet she still had to compete. She deserved what she got.” My heart felt as if it had been torn in two. The living hell I had endured for five years had been orchestrated by the people I loved most. 1 “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ve been playing my part perfectly all these years. That stupid woman has no idea.” “In a couple of days, after Aunt Iris’s birthday party, we can finally be a real family.” Lucas’s voice was tinged with concern. “You still need to be careful. Don’t let your guard down around her. We need her at Iris’s party.” “Your grandfather is going to publicly announce her as the second daughter of the Sinclair family. Your mother has to be there. Otherwise, the gossip will all fall on Iris. With her there as a shield, Iris will be spared some of the backlash.” My son, however, was nonchalant. “You’re here, Dad. Who would dare to say anything?” “Michael!” “Fine, fine, I’ll do what you say! I’ll go tell her. It’s an honor for her to even be invited.” “If it weren’t for Iris, would a convict, an ex-con, even be worthy of being my mother?” I stared at the image of the tall, proud boy on the screen. His face was etched with a contempt I didn’t recognize. This was not the child who used to sleep peacefully in my arms. Every word from their mouths was alien to me. Five years ago, I was arrested on the day of the competition. For five long years, one thousand, eight hundred days, I suffered unspeakable abuse. By the time I was released, my own mother had died from depression, and my father had publicly disowned me in the papers. Everywhere I went, people pointed and whispered. Even the household staff treated me with disdain. When I stood on the roof, ready to jump, it was my husband and son who gently coaxed me down. They told me they believed I was innocent, that they would fight to clear my name. When others sneered at me, they stood in front of me, defending me. I saw them as the light that had pierced the darkness of my life. I gave them everything I had. And now, I learned that my five years of agony were nothing more than a sacrifice to pave the way for a charity case my family had sponsored. Tears flooded my vision, blurring the screen of my phone. I had thought they were my rock, my support. It was all just their pity, a handout after they had used me up and thrown me away. I scrambled to hide my phone, curling up in the study like a wounded animal. The first thing I saw was a row of dolls on Lucas’s desk. They were exquisitely crafted, each with a small beauty mark under its eye, a perfect replica of the one Iris had. Lucas was a world-renowned luxury designer. His custom dolls were priceless, sought after by collectors everywhere. After we were married, I had asked him to make one for me, but he always said he was too busy. I couldn’t get a single one, yet he had made a whole collection for Iris. It wasn’t that he didn’t have time. It was that I wasn’t worth his time. Each of Iris’s dolls had a bright, smiling face. I clutched the one in my hand so tightly I thought it would shatter. Because my husband cherished her, she became the dazzling new star of the jewelry world. And I became a pariah, a convict everyone despised. That evening, the father and son returned. Michael, my son, called out “Mom!” with his usual affection. Lucas held a box of my favorite pastries. These scenes, which once warmed my heart, now sent a chill through my entire body. The next day, after they had left, I went out as well. I took a cab to a remote athletic club and found the locker I had hoped I would never have to use. I entered the code and placed a single letter inside. It contained only three words. “I was wrong.” He had once told me that if I ever regretted my choice, he would come for me immediately. When the cab dropped me back at the house, I saw Lucas and Iris standing by the gate, with Michael trailing behind them. Michael was chattering animatedly, and Iris was bent over with laughter. Lucas was smiling indulgently. The sound of the car door closing startled them. The smiles froze on their faces. My eyes were drawn to the crown on Iris’s head. My brow furrowed. A flicker of unease crossed Lucas’s face. He quickly explained, “It’s Iris’s birthday party tonight. She didn’t have any suitable jewelry, so I lent her this crown for the evening.” Iris, her almond-shaped eyes crinkling, covered her mouth with a delicate hand and giggled. “It was so thoughtful of Lucas. He saw I had nothing valuable to wear and brought this for me to use in a pinch.” “Don’t worry, Thea,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet. “I’ll return it as soon as the party is over.” Their intertwined hands were a glaring white in the sunlight. A sharp pain pierced my chest, making every breath an agony. Since my release, Lucas had forbidden me from attending any social events, large or small. We never appeared in public together. He always said it was to protect me from the gossip. I had naively believed he was looking out for me. Now I knew the truth. He just didn’t want to be tainted by his convict wife. Seeing my silence, Lucas pressed on. “This crown is just gathering dust with you anyway. Why not give it to Iris? She needs these things to build her image right now.” “Lucas, do you have any idea what you’re saying?” I heard my own voice tremble. This crown had been custom-made by a famous designer for our wedding. It had caused a sensation at the time, featured in fashion magazines around the world. I had worn it only once, on our wedding day. The rest of the time, it was kept in a glass case, meticulously cared for. This crown was the symbol of the lady of the house. By giving it to Iris, what did that make me, his lawfully wedded wife? Noticing my darkening expression, Lucas quickly changed the subject. “Alright, it’s just a piece of jewelry. Don’t make a fuss. It’s Iris’s birthday party tonight. You should come, too.” Michael chimed in, taking my hand. “Mom, please come. It’s been so long since we went out together.” The images from the video flashed in my mind. A cold dread spread through me, but my expression remained as still as a frozen lake. “I’m a convict. My presence would only bring shame upon you.” Iris, however, linked her arm through mine. “Sister, you shouldn’t say that. We’re family, after all. Besides, you haven’t seen Father since you’ve been out.” At the mention of my father, I hesitated. After a long silence, I finally agreed. Lucas and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. The driver pulled up in Lucas’s custom luxury sedan. Lucas smoothly opened the door for Iris. When I moved to get in, Iris smiled sweetly. “Sister, my dress is so large. Maybe it would be better if you took another car?” Lucas, in the passenger seat, frowned. “It’s Iris’s birthday. We have to be careful with the dress. I’ll call you a car.” “No need.” I turned and walked away before he could finish. Lucas seemed taken aback, but Iris’s voice pulled his attention back. “Let’s go, Lucas. We’re going to be late.” The hesitation on his face vanished. “Let’s go,” he told the driver. The car sped away. It turned out that all the family drivers were suddenly “unavailable.” I, the lady of a wealthy household, couldn’t even get a car. Our villa was in a secluded suburb with no taxi service. As dusk fell, I had no choice but to start walking. A heavy rain began to fall. By the time I arrived at the party, drenched to the bone, it had been going for some time. Lucas and Iris stood side by side, their faces wreathed in smiles, a perfect picture of a happy couple. My father stood nearby, nodding with a pleased expression. The air was filled with the murmurs of guests, praising them as a match made in heaven. Meanwhile, I was stopped by security at the door, my dress dripping, looking like a drowned rat. The commotion at the entrance caught my father’s attention. He strode over, his face grim, and his words were a brutal, public lashing. “Who told you to come here?” “This is your sister’s birthday party. Have you no shame?” “A common criminal. If I were you, I would have killed myself by now. If you had any decency, you would divorce him and let them be happy.” “I have already announced today that Iris is my daughter. Why are you still clinging to Lucas?” “Dad, I am Lucas’s lawfully wedded wife!” I cried out. “Iris is nothing but a charity case our family sponsored! How can she be your daughter?” CRACK. A sharp, stinging slap landed on my cheek, making my ears ring. I had become the center of a spectacle. “You animal!” my father roared. Iris flinched and scurried into Lucas’s arms like a frightened rabbit. And my son, who usually showered me with affection, now refused to even look at me, his small body a stubborn shield in front of Iris. “You’re a convict. What right do you have to question me?” my father spat. “If you had half of Iris’s sense, you would have died in prison instead of embarrassing us here!” The crowd of guests gathered around, some even pulling out their phones to record. I covered my burning cheek, overwhelmed by a crushing wave of humiliation. Lucas looked uneasy. “Father…” he began. “Lucas, Mr. Sterling is here. We should go greet him,” Iris murmured. “But…” “Thea is Dad’s daughter. He won’t hurt her.” Lucas hesitated, but in the end, he let Iris lead him away. He wrapped an arm around her, protecting her, and walked back into the crowd without a second glance. I stood alone, trembling under the mocking gazes of the guests. My own child, the one I had cared for day and night, didn’t even pause. He shot me a look of pure disgust and hurried after Iris. Finally, I broke, fleeing from the laughter and the scorn. My father’s curses followed me. “You reap what you sow! You care about your pride now? It’s too late!” As I hid in a quiet corner of the hotel, weeping, Iris found me. Her face was alight with triumph, her eyes filled with mockery. “Thea Sinclair. How does it feel to have everything taken from you?” “Did you enjoy the five years in prison I gifted you? All I had to do was shed a single tear, and your precious son switched out your design for you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393236”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At my sister-in-law’s 21st birthday party, her gift to me was a tainted drink and a set of divorce papers. “A country girl who never even finished high school has no right to carry a Thorne heir.” Luna’s voice was cold, a world away from the girl whose brother had knelt with her at my family’s door ten years ago, begging me to save them. My eyes found Caleb, my husband, but he was too busy, his arm wrapped around another woman as he made his introductions. But I am his wife. His only wife. “The ten years are up,” I murmured, a strange weight lifting from my shoulders as I reached for the papers. “It’s time for me to go.” 1. By the time I realized my wine had been drugged, a sharp, tearing pain had already seized my womb, and I could feel the warm stickiness of blood. “For God’s sake, get back to the room and clean yourself up! Stop making a scene!” Caleb hissed, his arm tightening around the other woman, his brow furrowed in irritation. Blood was starting to pool on the polished marble floor, a dark stain spreading from beneath my dress. The guests recoiled, putting a sudden ten-foot circle of empty space around me, as if I, the girl from the countryside, were carrying some virulent plague. “You’re not going anywhere until you sign this!” Luna blocked my path, shoving the divorce papers at me. “Nelly, you used that baby to blackmail my brother, to keep him from leaving you. You don’t have any excuses left now, do you?” I stopped and fixed my gaze on her. She flinched, her shoulders hunching in a flicker of instinctual fear. She’s always been afraid of me. It started with that terrible blizzard ten years ago, when she was just a child, cowering in my arms, too terrified to even sip the broth I offered her. “Luna, who taught you to drug someone? You can go to your room and…” My words caught in my throat. I’d almost forgotten. By morning, this would no longer be my home to command. “Forget it. Go explain it to your brother,” I sighed, the fight draining out of me. Ten years. I’d raised her for ten years, and all it took were a few poisonous whispers from someone else to undo a decade of care. Back in the room, I showered. The water ran crimson, the bathtub a horrifying tableau of my loss. But as the water swirled down the drain, a profound sense of relief washed over me. It was better this way. Better for the child to be gone than to be born into a family where it would never be wanted. The bedroom was a scene of total violation. My clothes had been slashed into ribbons, my cosmetics dumped and smeared across the floor. On the vanity mirror, a single, furious message was scrawled in lipstick: GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. I sat on the edge of the bed and began to painstakingly gather the scattered pieces of my grandmother’s last letter. She had made me promise to only open it on my tenth wedding anniversary, not a minute sooner. And at midnight tonight, it would be exactly ten years since I married Caleb Thorne. I had little to pack. Most of my clothes and makeup were things Caleb’s assistant had bought for me—gaudy, jewel-encrusted things I never truly liked. When I first came to this city, all I had were Caleb and Luna. Now, as I prepared to leave, all I had was myself. After signing the divorce papers, I focused on piecing the letter together. Luna had torn it into confetti, and the work was slow, my fingers trembling. The moment I managed to form the words My Dearest Granddaughter, my vision blurred with tears. I was more than halfway through when Caleb entered the room, his expression as severe as ever, the scent of whiskey clinging to him. “Ellie,” he murmured, his voice thick. “I’m drunk.” It was only when he was like this, lost in the haze of alcohol, that he allowed himself to be vulnerable with me. He bent down, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his cheek brushing against my ear. “Luna’s still young. She doesn’t know any better. You’ll forgive her, won’t you? Be a good wife and make me some soup.” It was a familiar script, a scene played out on countless drunken nights. He would hold me, whisper sweet nothings, and beg for soup he rarely drank. More often than not, he’d feed it to me from his own lips before pressing me into the mattress, taking what he wanted under the cover of darkness. In the morning, he’d be gone, leaving me with nothing but his back. He could never reconcile the man he was with the “country girl” he slept with. In the dark, he never had to see my tears. “I’m sorry, Mr. Thorne. You’ll have to ask someone else,” I said, my voice flat. I kept my eyes on the letter, feeling his hands on my shoulders stiffen. “Nelly, Luna wasn’t wrong,” he said, his tone shifting, becoming patronizing. “You can’t even read a balance sheet, you don’t understand the first thing about business. I work myself to the bone out there, and I need a partner who can help me, not just… wait for me at home.” “But I never asked for a divorce, did I?” His voice was like a king granting a pardon, a charity I neither wanted nor needed. Ten years ago, my grandmother had given her life to change his fortune, breaking the laws of nature and dying for it. Now, her final letter echoed the truth I already felt in my bones: The bond is broken. Do not force what is already gone. 2. “Then I’ll be the one to ask,” I said, placing the signed divorce papers into his hand. I clutched the precious, reassembled letter and walked towards the door. “Nelly!” He called after me. “You walk out that door, and you’ll never set foot in this house again. Think about it. What do you have without me?” I didn’t stop. My abdomen clenched with a wave of pain, but I kept walking. Suddenly, he was there, slamming the door shut. He let out a long sigh, his voice softening. “Fine. I’m willing to give you another child.” “But you can’t raise it,” he continued, the words a fresh series of blows. “A child of mine must have the best education in the world.” Every sentence was a calculated jab at my origins, a sneer at my lack of a diploma. Ten years ago, after his parents were murdered and his inheritance was stolen by his uncles, he’d come to my village. He’d heard whispers of my grandmother, a woman with the Sight, a true mystic. He begged her to place a curse on his relatives, to help him reclaim what was his. Such dark magic always came at a cost, extracting a heavy price from the caster. But I had already fallen for him, for the fire in his eyes. To grant me the marriage I so desperately wanted, my grandmother paid with her life. At her funeral, Caleb knelt beside me before her coffin. His voice was raw with emotion as he swore an oath: Nelly would be his only wife, for all his life. If he ever broke his vow, may his skin split and his heart shatter, and may his soul be damned for eternity. One by one, his uncles met with bizarre and untimely ends. Caleb slowly, methodically, reclaimed the entire Thorne empire. But his world whispered that a simple country girl was not worthy of the Thorne name. I saw the shame on his face then, the first time one of his new, wealthy friends looked down on me. That look of contempt had never truly left his eyes. I pushed his hand away and walked downstairs. Luna was waiting at the bottom of the staircase, a smug, triumphant look on her face. “Finally got thrown out by my brother, huh?” she sneered. “Serves you right. How dare you live in our house and still try to tell me what to do.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All I’d done was try to stop her from getting involved with some local punk, and she’d reacted as if I’d declared war on her. “Luna, darling, your sister-in-law probably meant well,” a smooth voice purred. “Coming from the country, she just doesn’t understand our ways.” “She’s not my sister-in-law, Vivian!” Luna cooed, linking her arm with the newcomer. “My brother is embarrassed by her. He always takes you to his events, never her.” So that explained the cloying, unfamiliar perfume that clung to Caleb’s suits on the nights he came home drunk. I knew his life was hard, but he never shared his struggles with me. He just assumed I wouldn’t understand. Over time, the silence between us grew into a chasm. “Then I’ll have to trouble you to take care of Caleb from now on, Miss Vivian,” I said, extending a hand. Unsurprisingly, she left it hanging in the air. A third voice, sharp and condescending, cut in. “My Vivian isn’t like you. She won’t be a wife who acts like a glorified housekeeper,” said Vivian’s mother, stepping into the light. “Vivian is an international scholar. She’s fluent in two languages. She can make Caleb millions in minutes. You? You can wash clothes and cook. A maid can do that.” Vivian basked in her mother’s praise, a cascade of perfect waves falling over her shoulder as she looked down her nose at me. “Nelly,” she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “I know you were with Caleb through the hard times. But let’s be honest, he’s provided you with a very comfortable life these past few years. A live-in maid makes what, fifty thousand a year? That coat you’re wearing is worth more than that. Without Caleb, you’d still be stuck in that backwoods town, you never would have seen the world.” “Vivi,” Luna interrupted with a giggle. “Don’t use big words. She won’t understand.” They both burst into laughter, a sound like shattering glass. Luna had forgotten. After her family’s tragedy, she’d missed two years of school. When she finally went back, she was hopelessly behind. I was the one who worked shifts waiting tables during the day so I could come home and tutor her at night. I was strict with her, yes, but only because she was the one who had come to me, clutching a failed test, her eyes fierce with a child’s promise. “I’ll make you and Caleb proud, Nelly,” she’d sworn. “I’ll shut up all those relatives who made him kneel!” Luna hadn’t changed. Caleb hadn’t changed. They had simply returned to the lives they were always meant to live. The only one who had changed was me. I had dared to dream a dream that was never mine. “Enough!” Caleb’s voice boomed from the top of the stairs, silencing everyone. 3. “You and Vivian can stay the night,” he said, his gaze fixed on her mother. “I’ll have the staff prepare a guest room for you.” Then he turned to me. “You too, Nelly. It’s late. Stop bothering me. We’ll talk in the morning.” The moment Vivian’s mother heard Caleb intended for me to stay, her eyes shot daggers at me before she turned a fawning smile back up at him. “Oh, Caleb, darling, just one room is fine! Why would Vivian need her own room? You two lovebirds must have so much to talk about!” So this was the famed upbringing of the upper class. So eager to push her own daughter into a man’s bed. I turned to go back to my room, but Luna grabbed my arm. “You might as well just crash in the basement for one night,” she said, dragging me towards the cellar door. “No point in going back to your old room on the second floor. Besides,” she added with a cruel smirk, “you don’t want to be in the room next door listening to my brother and Vivian, do you?” “There’s no light down there,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “So? It’s not like you’re afraid of the dark.” She shot me an impatient glare, having conveniently forgotten the time she’d gotten lost in the woods as a child. I was the one who went searching for her. A wolf found us. To save her, I drew it away, leading it on a desperate chase until I was cornered in a pitch-black cave. There was no way out. I could hear the wolf’s panting, feel its hot breath just behind me. Later, Caleb asked me a hundred times how I survived that night. I never told him. I survived on the sheer, desperate conviction that I had to see him again. After Luna left, locking the door behind her, I curled into a ball against the cold, damp wall. The darkness was absolute, a suffocating blanket without a single crack of moonlight. My breath came in ragged gasps, my heart hammering against my ribs. I could almost feel the phantom slick of the wolf’s saliva on my leg, the terror as real as it was all those years ago. I couldn’t take it. I scrambled back up the stairs, hammering on the door until my knuckles were raw. When it finally opened, I stumbled into the hallway and saw them. Caleb and Vivian, entwined on the sofa. “Vivian, I’m sorry,” Caleb was saying, his voice low and strained. “I really can’t divorce Nelly.” “Because of your debt to her grandmother?” “Not just that,” he paused. “I swore an oath on her grave. If I leave Nelly, I’m cursed to a horrific death…” “Her grandmother is dead, Caleb. You really think a corpse can curse you?” “Vivian, can’t we just stay like this? You’re my confidante, my partner… isn’t that enough?” He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he leaned in and covered her mouth with his. The cramped sofa became a stage for their passion, and a bitter poison filled my heart. The truth was, my grandmother had wanted to place a real curse on him. I was the one who stopped her. I remember her stroking my face, her voice full of sorrow. “My sweet, simple girl,” she’d sighed. “What will you do when you get hurt? There will be no one left to protect you.” She was right. The one who protected me was gone. And it was time for me to leave, too. I turned and went back to the basement. So what if it was dark? So what if I was terrified? The bite of a lone wolf years ago was nothing compared to the pain of Caleb’s casual admission—that he was bound not by love, but by fear of an old ghost story. The basement door creaked open again. The beam of a flashlight blinded me. I squinted, making out Vivian’s silhouette, the angry red marks visible on her exposed shoulder. “You heard all of that, didn’t you?” she said, her voice laced with venom. “You must be so proud. Caleb won’t divorce you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393235”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 She tricked me into going abroad, then held a lavish engagement party with her first love back home. I saw it on a stranger’s phone, watching as she placed the wedding ring I’d commissioned for us onto her ex-boyfriend’s hand. The guests gasped. “So he’s the one Ms. Vance truly loves!” Cora Vance smiled, not denying it. She announced that Specter, the prize stallion, would be her gift to him upon their marriage. A bitter smile touched my lips. With a heart heavy with exhaustion, I teleported home. What Cora didn’t know was that I came from a thousand years in the past, here only to repay an ancient debt to her family. Specter wasn’t just a horse; he was my companion, my family. I had given him to her as a gift on the day we registered our marriage. Now, watching their fingers intertwined, a deep weariness washed over me. A thousand-year promise, a dream shattered in a single moment. It was time for Specter and me to go home. … Cora clearly hadn’t anticipated that I could teleport, a feat far faster than any airplane. By the time I returned, she had successfully proposed to Patrick Sutton. Photos of their blissful union were still cycling on the hotel’s massive outdoor screen. I was sitting in the office of the Temporal Agent, watching it all unfold. The agent, Jasper, was trembling before me. “Sir, are you sure? Perhaps Ms. Vance has her reasons…” I pointed a finger at the intimate photos on the screen outside. “Do you think I’m blind, Agent?” He shook his head frantically, trying to salvage the situation. “But Ms. Vance gave strict orders to have everything restored to normal before your return! She still cares for you, sir, she does…” I held up a hand, cutting him off. My voice was sharp, laced with ice. “You insignificant agent. A few days as Cora Vance’s assistant and you’ve forgotten your true duty? Your true identity?” I knew what she was doing. Patrick was her childhood crush, the one that got away. Now that he was back, they were giving their ‘what if’ a perfect, storybook ending. This engagement party was their gift to themselves. She had coaxed me into taking a trip abroad precisely to keep me in the dark while she pursued this reckless affair. She wanted to give him a love that was bold and public, while I, her legal husband, was kept hidden in the shadows. But I saw. And I would not tolerate such impurity in my bond. If Cora chose him, she could have nothing to do with me. With a trembling hand, the agent stamped my departure papers. He informed me the process would still take seven days. I slammed my palm on his desk, and it exploded into splinters. “Seven days is too long. You have three.” I turned and left, his panicked stomping and muttered complaints echoing behind me. “Oh, Ms. Vance, what have you done? You foolish, foolish woman. It’s all over now. You can live with your regret.” Outside, I teleported to a high vantage point, one that gave me a perfect view of the hotel where they were celebrating. The guests had all departed. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling window, I saw Cora and Patrick, their gazes locked in a heated embrace. After downing glass after glass of champagne, Cora, feigning intoxication, had melted into his arms. I saw a flicker of conflict in her eyes, but it was fleeting. Her hands wrapped around his neck, and they staggered together toward the presidential suite on the top floor. Even though I knew it was over, I pulled out my phone and called her. “Cora. Where are you? Do you miss me?” Her voice, laced with guilt, trembled. “Julian! I’m at home, of course. And I miss you so much. I wish I could just fly to my darling husband’s side right now.” A cold laugh escaped me. Is that so? Then I’ll grant your wish. “Then come pick me up. I’m at the airport.” Cora shot to her feet, her eyes darting to Patrick on the bed. Her brow furrowed. “Julian, your flight wasn’t supposed to land until tomorrow night. Why don’t you head home first? I just got an urgent message from the office, I have an emergency meeting.” “Fine,” I said, and hung up, a glacial chill seeping into my bones. I had given her a chance. She chose Patrick. The moment she hung up, Cora was barking orders at her subordinates, having them scrub the videos from every screen in the city and manage the fallout. From the bed, Patrick called her name in a husky voice. She turned, gently pulling the covers over him. That was all the encouragement he needed. He pulled her down, his mouth finding hers. Without a moment’s hesitation, Cora let her hair down, unzipped her dress, and became entangled with him. To say the sight didn’t wound me would be a lie. But more than the pain, there was a profound sense of release. After wandering for so long, my heart yearned for my true family, a thousand years away. Finally, I could leave. The sight of their bodies entwined disgusted me. I had no interest in watching further. I turned and went back to the home Cora and I once shared. As I was gathering my few belongings, a picture message arrived. It was from Patrick. It was a photo of him and Cora, locked in a passionate kiss, his chest covered in love bites. A caption followed. “Has she ever been this wild with you, Julian? We went through two boxes.” A sharp pang of pain shot through me, but I have never been one to suffer in silence. I replied with a photo of my own. “I don’t know about Cora, but I’ve certainly seen pictures of you getting wild with that heiress in Monaco.” Message sent. I could almost picture Patrick’s sleepless night. It brought me a small measure of satisfaction. And for the first time in a long time, I slept soundly. 2 The next day, after clearing my things from the house, I went to the stables to retrieve Specter. He was more than a horse; he was family, a companion from my own time. He had once saved Cora’s life when she’d nearly been thrown from another horse. She had always doted on him, even building him a private, state-of-the-art equestrian center. But no matter. I could part with everything else, but not Specter. I had to take him back to our own time, where our family was waiting. The moment I teleported to the stables, I heard his pained whinny. I rushed forward, and the sight that met my eyes made my blood boil with fury. Specter was chained, and Patrick, wielding a barbed whip he’d found somewhere, was lashing it into the horse’s flesh. His eyes were vicious, every strike meant to inflict maximum pain. “What is this ugly beast?” he snarled between blows. “You think this is a worthy gift? You worthless animal. One day, I’ll throw you and your pathetic owner out on your asses.” He spat. “That bastard Julian dares to threaten me with photos? I’ve already had the evidence destroyed. Let’s see him try that again!” Specter screamed in agony, his glossy coat now matted with blood that dripped onto the pristine grass, forming a horrifying pool. I nearly went mad. I flashed forward, grabbing Patrick and landing a series of brutal punches to his face. He yelped in terror, his bravado vanishing the moment he saw my murderous expression. “Julian? How are you here? No, I’m sorry, please, don’t hit me!” I sneered, raising the whip to strike him down. But before it could fall, a hand caught my wrist. It was Cora. The second Patrick saw his protector had arrived, he collapsed into a heap, crying and pointing a trembling finger at me. “Cora, save me! Julian’s gone insane! He’s trying to kill me with the whip!” Cora didn’t even spare me a glance. She rushed to Patrick’s side, comforting him. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. He won’t dare touch you.” Finally, she looked up at me, her voice as cold as a winter storm. “Julian. What is the meaning of this?” I pointed at Specter’s bleeding form and told her exactly what Patrick had done. Patrick panicked, his face a mask of feigned innocence. “Cora, I didn’t mean to! Specter was acting up, he kicked me in the stomach. I just lost my temper and tapped him a few times… I grabbed the wrong whip by mistake! I really didn’t mean it…” The excuse was ludicrous. But Cora believed him. She lifted his shirt to inspect his abdomen, where a faint red mark was visible. Her gaze turned back to me, frigid with disappointment. “Julian, Specter is just an animal. So what if Patrick hit him? It wouldn’t matter if he killed him. How can you compare a beast to a person? You shouldn’t have taken advantage of my affection for you to attack Patrick. Now, apologize to him. Immediately.” Her words struck me like a physical blow. Specter had saved her life, and now she was calling him a beast. A hollow laugh escaped me. “Apologize? Fine. On one condition: we get a divorce.” At the mention of divorce, Cora flew into a rage. “Julian, have you not caused enough trouble? You want a divorce over something so trivial? Can you stop being so unreasonable?” “Unreasonable? Why don’t you check the security cameras? Then we’ll see who’s being unreasonable.” At the mention of cameras, Patrick, who had been enjoying the show, went pale. “Cora, it’s fine, I’m okay… Don’t fight with Julian because of me…” He grimaced, struggling to his feet. Cora rushed to support him, glaring at me. “Julian, Patrick is being the bigger person here by not pressing the issue. I don’t want to argue with you. Go home and think about what you’ve done.” She helped Patrick walk away. Once they were a safe distance, he turned and flipped me the middle finger. I walked to Specter and unfastened his chains, whispering in his ear. “Well, old friend. How would you like a little revenge?” Specter understood. With a triumphant cry, he shot forward like an arrow, closing the distance to Cora and Patrick in a heartbeat. A single, powerful kick sent them both sprawling face-first into the mud. I nearly doubled over, clutching my stomach with laughter. Cora stared at me, her eyes blazing with fury. Patrick, on the other hand, was more cunning. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed to the ground in a dramatic faint. Cora panicked, rushing him to her family’s hospital in a flurry of activity. I sighed, stroking Specter’s muzzle as he trotted back to my side. “Well, old friend,” I murmured. “I think we might be in a bit of trouble.” 3 When the test results came back, a weary Cora called me. “Julian, look what your precious beast has done. The doctor says Patrick was kicked so hard in the groin he might never be able to have children. This is your fault. You need to come to the hospital and apologize. If you do it for my sake, perhaps Patrick will forgive you.” My hand holding the phone trembled slightly. Specter was intelligent; he would never have truly harmed Patrick. Besides, even I, an outsider, knew that Patrick had spent years planting his own people within the Vance family’s hospital network. Forging a medical report would be child’s play. When I arrived at the hospital, a group of doctors glared at me with contempt. “For one man to command a beast to attack another… Mr. Thorne, your cruelty knows no bounds.” “Tch. Everyone knows he’s just jealous that Mr. Sutton was Ms. Vance’s first love.” I ignored them, my eyes fixed on Cora, who was silently feeding Patrick soup, refusing to look at me. She hadn’t told anyone about our secret marriage, and it was clear she had no intention of explaining now. Thinking of the life debt my ancestors owed hers, I could tolerate being nameless, but Specter was my line in the sand. An apology was out of the question. But I was willing to offer compensation. “Cora, this all started because Patrick attacked Specter first. He was in the wrong. However, I am willing to give him this hospital as compensation…” Before I could finish, Patrick’s face went white. He burst into tears. “Cora, he’s cursing me! I’m a healthy man, why would I want a hospital? I just want that horse dead! Or I want it gutted…” He was shouting hysterically. Cora held him, soothing him. “Alright, alright, Patrick, don’t get excited. I promise, whatever you want…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393234”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I arranged breeding for our family dog, my husband called me insane while my mother-in-law had a meltdown. In my past life, after Buddy—my loyal companion of ten years—died, Aiden and his mother bought a lookalike dog to console me. I thought it would fill the void. Instead, it urinated on our bed, destroyed the house, and once even wore my pajamas on my marital bed. When I demanded they remove it, they scoffed, “Why fight with a dog?” On our anniversary, they insisted on feeding it our leftovers to “avoid waste.” That night, I died of a sudden heart attack. Only then did I learn the truth: This dog carried the soul of Aiden’s wealthy ex, Amber, who’d recently died of the same condition. They’d brought it home to swap our fates. When I reopened my eyes, I was back to the day they first brought the dog home. … Aiden stood at the door, holding a small dog, his face beaming with a joy he couldn’t contain. “Jenna, come look! Doesn’t she look just like Buddy?” I looked over instinctively. A small puppy, dressed in a set of exquisite little clothes, was nestled in his arms. My body jolted as the familiar scene replayed in my mind. Seeing the excitement on Aiden’s face, I knew. I had been reborn. Seeing my silence, he prompted me again. “Honey, I put her in the bedroom for you. She’s here to keep you company, a replacement for Buddy. You have to treat her well, okay?” His words snapped me back to reality. I turned and saw the dog looking at me with an unnervingly human-like smile. My heart hammered in my chest. The horrific images of my last death flashed before my eyes. Without thinking, I refused. “No! I don’t want it!” Aiden was stunned. “Jenna, she looks so much like Buddy. Why wouldn’t you want her? Besides, I went to half a dozen breeders to find her for you. They don’t do returns.” Without waiting for another word, he carried the dog to my bed and set her down, stroking her head soothingly. Watching them together, I felt no warmth. Only a profound, chilling cold. In my last life, after Buddy died, Aiden had brought this same dog home. I suspected nothing and treated her as I had Buddy. I thought she would heal my broken heart, but I never realized she was no ordinary pet. The very first day, she urinated all over my bed. From then on, it only got worse. She would deliberately shatter my belongings or put on my pajamas and lie smugly on my marriage bed. In those moments, she didn’t seem like a dog. She seemed like a person. The strangeness of it all terrified me. I called Aiden and his mother to see, using it as an excuse to get rid of her. But they just told me I was overreacting, asking why I was so obsessed with a simple dog. This continued until our wedding anniversary. That day, they prepared a huge feast. When we couldn’t finish it, they suggested giving the leftovers to the dog. I remembered how she usually ate better than most people, so I readily agreed. I thought they were finally going to discipline her. Instead, that night, I died of a massive heart attack. That’s when I learned the truth. The dog wasn’t a replacement for Buddy at all. She was Aiden’s dead, rich ex-girlfriend. They brought her home to swap our lives. The memory of dying in her place, of watching her smugly take over my body and kiss my husband, filled me with a white-hot rage. I watched Aiden and his mother fussing over the dog, a strange smile playing on my lips. Since you’re here, you might as well stay. This time, it’s my turn to give you a gift. Just like last time, the dog pissed all over my bed on her first night. I stared at the yellow stain spreading across the sheets, a vein throbbing in my temple. I knew the soul inside that canine body was my husband’s first love. I knew she understood everything, that she was doing this deliberately to torment me. A fire ignited in my gut. I grabbed a feather duster, ready to strike. The dog erupted in a series of piercing shrieks, leaping and scrambling around the room, shattering my water glass and knocking over the wedding photo on my nightstand. Her cries brought Aiden and his mother running. The second the door opened, the dog scrambled into Aiden’s arms, peering at me with wide, terrified, and wounded eyes. Hearing her pathetic whimpers, Aiden’s heart melted. He shot me a look of pure exasperation. “Jenna, what is your problem? Why are you picking on a puppy?” he grumbled. “She’s just a baby, she doesn’t know any better. Look how you’ve scared her!” The scene was a perfect echo of my past life. Seeing that damned dog wagging its tail, taunting me, I trembled with fury, my voice shaking. “My problem? Are you blind? Can’t you see she’s soaked my entire bed? It reeks of piss! How am I supposed to sleep in that?” I shot back. “The second I picked up the duster, she started screaming and tearing the place apart. I never even touched her! And you say I scared her? Have you lost your mind?” “That’s it. I can’t have this dog in my house for one more day. Get rid of it, now! Or we’re getting a divorce!” A divorce would be for the best, but I knew they would never let me go that easily. They were determined to use me. Even if I managed to escape this house, they would find another way to kill me. Aiden just frowned, looking at me as if I were an irrational, shrewish wife. “Jenna, you’re losing it,” he spat. “You’re completely obsessed with this dog. You’ve gone mad.” He carefully cradled the dog and turned to leave, tossing one last sentence over his shoulder. “We’ll sleep in separate rooms for a while. You need to calm down.” His heartless words extinguished the last spark of hope I might have had for him. I slammed the door shut and, with a cold smile, dialed the number for a dog training facility. After our fight, Aiden and the dog were inseparable. When he went to work, he’d leave her with his mother, making sure I couldn’t get rid of her. Protected by the two of them, the dog found new ways to provoke me every day. She’d dart into my room the second I opened the door to shit on my bed. She’d smash my things and hide shards of glass in my shoes. The worst was when she burst in while I was on the toilet and sprayed a full stream of urine right in my face. Soaked in the foul-smelling liquid, I watched as Aiden and his mother praised the dog for how high and far she could aim. I was shaking with rage. But I told myself to endure it. The time wasn’t right. I couldn’t show my hand yet. I swallowed my disgust and waited, biding my time until our wedding anniversary. Just like in my last life, my mother-in-law was up early, her voice cheerful. “Today is your anniversary! You’ve always had such quiet celebrations, but this year is different. This year, you two need to celebrate properly…” Aiden chimed in. “She’s right. This year is different. We have to have a huge feast to celebrate.” Hearing the exact same words from my past life, I sneered inwardly. Back then, when I’d asked what was so different, they’d just mumbled something about it being our fifth anniversary, a special milestone. Now I understood. The “difference” was that they were preparing to welcome their rich ex-girlfriend into my body, and preparing to kill me. Suppressing the turmoil in my heart, I forced a smile. “Okay. Let’s celebrate.” With that, Aiden and his mother went out to buy groceries. Before they left, he turned to me, smiling. “Honey, it’s our special day. When Mom and I get back, we’re going to have a real celebration.” He even pulled me into a hug. I feigned shyness, burying my face in his chest to hide the icy glare in my eyes. They were gone for four or five hours. I wondered what kind of groceries took so long to buy, but I knew it was nothing good. When they returned, my mother-in-law locked herself in the kitchen, and Aiden went in to help her. They shut the door, and I could only guess what they were concocting in there. When the food was finally ready, my mother-in-law gestured to the overflowing table. “Jenna, dear, it’s your anniversary with Aiden. Mom made all your favorites. You have to eat a lot.” Aiden added, “That’s right, honey. We’ve been fighting so much lately, our relationship has suffered. I’ve been thinking, a husband should be more patient. Eat up, have some wine. Consider it my apology.” I stared at the dazzling array of dishes, remembering what had happened after I ate them last time. Back then, they’d coaxed me into eating until I was fit to burst. When I tried to get up to use the restroom, my head was spinning, my mind foggy. I knew the food was tainted. But with both of them watching me, I slowly picked up my chopsticks and began to eat. Aiden’s expression visibly brightened. My mother-in-law’s eyes gleamed as she clenched her fists. Fearing I wouldn’t eat enough, they kept urging me on. “Eat more, Jenna. You’re too thin, you need to eat more…” “Why aren’t you two eating?” I asked, my mouth full. They exchanged a fake, benevolent smile. “You eat first, Jenna. We’ll eat after you’re done.” They watched me, practically counting the seconds. Once I was visibly stuffed, they decided it was enough. They each took a symbolic bite or two of food before my mother-in-law stood up. “I think I made a little too much. It’ll be a shame to waste it.” “Why don’t we call our little darling over and let her finish it for us?” Aiden nodded immediately. “Right. Waste not, want not. I’ll go get her now!” He stood and left. His mother remained standing, craning her neck expectantly. But no matter where Aiden looked, he couldn’t find the dog. Panicked, he and his mother searched the entire house, but there was no sign of her on the second floor. They were frantic, sweat beading on their foreheads as they rushed back to me. “Jenna! Where is our little darling? Did you get rid of her behind our backs?” Seeing their panicked faces, I couldn’t help but laugh. A thrill of vengeance shot through me. I stood up slowly and pointed towards a room on the first floor. “You two love her so much, how could I possibly throw her out?” Before Aiden could look relieved, I continued. “But I’ve noticed her climbing into my bed a lot lately. I figured she must be in heat. She’s our little treasure, after all. We can’t let her suffer.” “So, I found her a dozen studs to mate with. Big, black ones. I’m sure they’ll get the job done.” At my words, the color drained from Aiden’s face. My mother-in-law swayed and collapsed to the floor in a boneless heap. Watching their faces turn a pasty white, I smiled and delivered the final blow. “So don’t worry about calling her for dinner. She’s going to be busy for a while. To make sure the mating was successful, I gave her a little something to… heighten her excitement. I imagine she’s having a great time right now.” It took them a long time to process my words. When they finally did, their bodies began to tremble as if they’d been plunged into a nightmare. Aiden raised his hand to slap me, but his mother scrambled up and pulled him towards the stairs. “Forget that bitch, Jenna!” she rasped in a voice I wasn’t supposed to hear. “Go save Amber!” Aiden snapped out of it. He shot me a venomous glare and scrambled downstairs. I followed at a leisurely pace. I watched them run screaming from room to room on the first floor, tearing each one apart in their search. But after checking every room, there was still no sign of the dog.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393232”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Our baby was just a month old when my wife vanished, leaving only a note. “Honey, it’s the planetary alignment, happens once every 77 years. I’ve time-traveled. Don’t worry about me. See you when I see you.” For three years of marriage, she’d used one absurd excuse after another, all to go on vacation with the one who got away. When our son, unable to breastfeed and refusing formula, was rushed to the hospital with a twisted intestine, she was in Norway with Evan, watching the Northern Lights. When our son was undergoing emergency surgery, she was with Evan in a hot air balloon, high above the clouds. When the doctors handed me the critical condition notice for our son, she was with Evan under the Eiffel Tower, sharing a passionate kiss as fireworks exploded overhead. She didn’t return until just before our son’s 100-day celebration, carrying a cheap, dollar-store plastic soldier. “Honey, I’m back from my travels! Look, a present for our son. From now on, we’ll all be a happy family.” That was when I finally saw her for who she was, and all hope died. On the day of our son’s celebration, I vanished too, leaving a note of my own. “Planet Gamma has summoned me back to the mothership. The child stays. Don’t look for me. This is goodbye.” 1 Our son was wailing, his face turning purple as he refused the bottle, when my eyes fell on the note left on the table: “Honey, it’s the planetary alignment, happens once every 77 years. I’ve time-traveled. Don’t worry about me. See you when I see you.” The bottle slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. She’d done it again. Snuck off behind my back, abandoning her one-month-old son. Three years of marriage, and her excuses only grew more fantastical. I pulled out my phone, tracked her location. She was overseas. I knew she was with Evan again, off on another one of their trips. Three years of our life together, meaningless against the ghost of her first love. A suffocating weight settled in my chest. Just then, the baby’s cries stopped. A stream of white liquid shot from his mouth. His diaper filled with a horrifying, jelly-like blood. Panic seized me. I fumbled for my phone and dialed for an ambulance. Cradling my son’s pale, limp body, I was drenched in a cold sweat. He was curled in my arms, his tiny hands clenched in pain. One of the paramedics shouted, “It looks like intussusception! We need to get him to the ICU, now!” His heart-wrenching cries echoed down the hall as they wheeled him into the emergency room. A nurse grabbed my arm. “Where is the baby’s mother? We need to ask some questions about the infant’s condition before we can operate.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My voice came out a raw, hoarse whisper. “It’s just me.” “The mother isn’t here?” My own lips trembled, a hot sting behind my eyes. “She’s dead,” I rasped. A flicker of pity crossed the nurse’s face. Her voice softened. “Don’t worry. We’ll make your son our top priority.” To me, after three years of her cold indifference, she might as well have been. Just as they pushed my son through the doors, my phone vibrated. It was a new photo from the private investigator I’d hired. In it, my wife, Irene, was clinging to Evan, the two of them gazing up at the Northern Lights against the dark Norwegian sky. She had once promised we would see the Northern Lights together on our honeymoon. She kept putting it off, always for work. Now I understood. It wasn’t about work. It was simply that I wasn’t the one she wanted to see them with. As the oxygen mask was placed over my son’s tiny face, my heart sank to the floor. A cold draft from the emergency room doors seemed to seep into my very bones, a chill that ravaged every cell in my body. The light above the operating room door suddenly went out. A doctor emerged, handing me a critical condition notice. I was shaking too hard to stand, fighting back a wave of terror as I scrawled my name on the form. At that exact moment, my phone screen lit up with another image: Irene and Evan, locked in a passionate kiss beneath the glittering Eiffel Tower. The light went out again. This time, they wheeled my son’s tiny body out of the room. My vision blurred. He had been to hell and back. I leaned down and gently kissed his forehead. From this day forward, I vowed, it’s just you and me. After the surgery, my son was incredibly weak. I was sitting by his hospital bed when my mother-in-law pushed the door open, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And where is Irene? Her son is sick, and she’s not even notified?” A cold smile touched my lips. “She said she time-traveled. She’s vanished.” My mother-in-law’s face fell. Realizing it was just another one of Irene’s excuses, she turned her frustration on me. “Look at you. Can’t even take care of a simple baby. Useless.” Then she turned to my son, a wide, doting smile spreading across her face. “Oh, my handsome grandson. You look just like your mother.” I was used to her veiled insults. My grandfather and Irene’s had been brothers-in-arms. After my parents died in the line of duty, my grandfather, on his deathbed, entrusted me to her family. That was the only reason Irene had agreed to marry me. For all these years, I had stayed in this family for her grandfather’s sake. And it was only to fulfill his dying wish that she had agreed to have a child with me. 2 I had fulfilled my end of the promise. After the baby’s 100-day celebration, I would leave the Vance family for good. My mother-in-law cooed at my son for a few more minutes, then left, satisfied, leaving me alone to care for him. I stayed at the hospital, not sleeping, not resting, until the day he was discharged. Irene never showed. My phone, however, was a constant stream of photos of her and Evan, their intimacy a series of fresh wounds. When we got home, my mother-in-law dismissed the nanny with a smug smile. “You’re the man of the house now, the one who married into the family. Since you have nothing better to do all day, you can stay home and take care of the child.” The baby was fragile after his surgery. He cried often through the night. He wouldn’t take formula, and with no mother’s milk, he grew thinner and thinner. Seeing him waste away was a constant, stabbing pain in my heart. I spent that month teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown. And then there were the messages from Evan, dripping with scorn. “So what if you married her, Mason? The one she’ll always love is me.” I clicked on the video he sent. A grainy, tangled image of two bodies, the sound a mix of a man’s heavy breathing and a woman’s soft moans. In the dead of night, I would watch my son’s peaceful face as he slept, my own heart aching. My social media feed was a gallery of Evan and Irene’s trip around the world, a new photo marking each new city. I tortured myself, scrolling through hundreds of them. The comments from their friends were a special kind of hell. “Living the life, Irene! Husband’s at home with the baby while you’re off seeing the world.” “Seriously, what was the excuse this time? How’d you manage to escape?” Irene’s reply was right there for all to see. “I told him it was the 77-year planetary alignment and I time-traveled.” “LMAO, Irene, only you could come up with that. Aren’t you afraid your husband will be pissed?” Her response: “He’s put up with it for three years. He’ll put up with this. He’ll just be at home waiting for me, like a good boy.” So my tolerance, my patience over the past three years, had become nothing more than a running joke between her and her friends. Too bad for her. This time, I wouldn’t be so forgiving. I spent the night staring into the darkness, my heart a hollow ache. Just after dawn, a frantic knocking echoed through the house. “Honey, I’m home! And I brought a present for our son!” I opened the door. Evan was standing next to her, impeccably dressed. He looked me up and down with a sneer. “Mason, you look like a mess. A man needs to take care of himself, you know.” I was in my baggy house clothes, a smear of dried spit-up on the collar. Evan wrinkled his nose, pulling a bottle of cologne from his bag and spritzing himself liberally. “What’s that sour milk smell? It’s disgusting.” He then plastered on a fake smile. “No offense, Mason. I just have a sensitive nose.” Irene frowned slightly. “Honey, you must have had a rough few days. I just got back from my trip. Here, this is for our son.” She pulled a cheap-looking plastic soldier from a bag and handed it to me. In the past, I would have thrown her thoughtless gifts back in her face. But not today. Today, I just didn’t care anymore. Noticing Evan behind her, Irene explained, “I ran into Evan on the way. He said he wanted to see the baby, so we came together.” When I said nothing, she assumed I was being my usual, jealous self. The next second, I smiled. “It’s fine. Come on in.” A flicker of confusion crossed her face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “See, honey? Being a father has changed you. You’re so much gentler now.” Before, whenever she brought Evan home, I would get angry. We would fight, always about him. But now, I saw everything with a painful clarity. It didn’t matter anymore. Evan strode inside in his polished leather shoes. Irene rushed to the bedroom to see our son. I was alone in the living room with him. A mocking smile played on his lips. “Look at you, Mason. A middle-aged man looks younger than you do right now. How are you going to keep Irene interested when you look like that?” I ignored him, sterilizing a bottle. My cold shoulder seemed to annoy him. His words turned sharper. “You know she doesn’t love you. Why do you insist on staying here, clinging to her family? It’s pathetic.” The absurdity of it was almost funny. “I’m her legal husband,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “What does that make you? The other man?” He was speechless for a moment, his face twisting in a snarl. “Don’t think that just because she had a baby with you, she’s settled down. Irene and I can have children too. Your son means nothing.” I continued to calmly scoop formula into the bottle. His inability to get a rise out of me was clearly frustrating him. As I reached for the kettle to pour hot water, he snatched it from me and deliberately poured the boiling water over his own hand.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393231”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel