Author: Momo Chan

I accidentally found a pair of black lace stockings in the nightstand of our master bedroom. They were torn to shreds. And only my girlfriend, Charlotte, and I had the keys to this apartment. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened here. Holding those torn stockings, my hands shook uncontrollably. Eight years of chasing her and two years of dating felt like a complete joke at this moment. I snapped a photo and sent it to Charlotte, waiting for her explanation. But she didn’t even seem to care. “My friends all said I needed a ‘test-drive’ with another guy before getting hitched, just so I wouldn’t have any regrets after marriage.” “If it really bothers you that much, you can go find some girl to sleep with too. Let’s just call it even.” Yet later, when I actually went out with my billionaire heiress fiancée, Charlotte went completely insane, crying and begging for my forgiveness. When Charlotte rushed over, I was already instructing the movers to throw that massive bed out and change the door locks. She stood at the doorway, her face turning pale as she watched the moving company carry the bed out. “Anthony! Have you lost your mind?!” “That bed cost over three thousand dollars, and I only slept on it once! Do you really have to be this petty?” She spoke with pure annoyance, as if she expected me to immediately start coddling her to stop her from throwing a tantrum. In the past, I would have been terrified of her anger. I would have rushed over, desperate to make her smile. But now, I was done begging. After ten years of devotion, just when I thought I was finally going to make her my wife, she gave me the ultimate betrayal. What kind of man could tolerate the woman he cherished sleeping with someone else? My mind kept flashing back to those ripped stockings. I could easily picture how wild they had been. How was I supposed to swallow this?! I glared at her, my eyes burning with pure hatred. “This is my apartment. Getting rid of trash is my right.” She instantly flared up. “What is wrong with you?! This is our home! I cleaned up the bed after I was done. How is it dirty?!” So, even now, she still believed she had done nothing wrong. I couldn’t help but roar, “You know exactly what you did!” “There’s no need for a wedding anymore. I bought this place with my own money, so it is *my* home!” Charlotte stared at me in disbelief. “What did you just say?! You’re calling off our wedding over something this stupid?!” Stupid? I couldn’t believe she saw this as a minor detail. I couldn’t believe the woman I had loved for ten years was actually this disgusting. She looked like a total stranger to me. Where was the innocent girl I fell in love with in high school? The pain in my chest was unbearable. I didn’t know whether to feel lucky for seeing her true colors before marriage, or to grieve for the ten years I had wasted on her. But I knew one thing for sure—I was never looking back. My voice was ice-cold and resolute. “Yes. The wedding is off. Since you love ‘test-driving’ so much, I’m giving you all the time in the world to do it!” Seeing the cold determination in my eyes, Charlotte finally realized I wasn’t joking. Her tone softened, and she looked at me with a pout. “Anthony, all my friends had one last wild night before their weddings. I just didn’t expect you to find out.” “If you’re really that upset, just go find a girl and do the same. I promise I won’t say a word! Just stop being mad at me.” She was constantly crossing my boundaries, chipping away at the last bit of love I had left for her. I let out a mocking laugh. “It’s fine. We’re over. You can sleep with whoever you want now. It has nothing to do with me.” Seeing that I wasn’t taking the bait, she lost her temper again. “Anthony! I’ve already lowered myself to apologize, and I even said you could sleep with someone else! What more do you want?!” “If it weren’t for the fact that you chased me for ten years, do you really think I would have agreed to marry you?!” “There are plenty of men out there who are way better than you!” So, she never married me out of love. She only wanted to marry me because I tolerated all her tantrums and spoiled her rotten. This sudden realization cut me deeper than anything else. My eyes welled with tears. “Then let’s break up. I won’t hold you back from finding those ‘better’ men.” Charlotte stomped her foot in anger. Before storming off, she hissed through gritted teeth: “Fine! We’re broken up! I might as well tell you—that man was Donald, and he’s back!” “Anthony, you’re throwing away your only chance to marry me. Don’t you dare regret it!” So, her high school sweetheart, Donald, was back. No wonder she was so eager to “test-drive” him.

Charlotte, Donald, and I went to the same high school. I had a crush on her back then. Charlotte was the school sweetheart, and Donald was the golden boy. They were a perfect match. When we went to college, they naturally started dating, and I could only watch from the sidelines as a loyal friend. But by the end of freshman year, Donald ghosted her completely. He moved abroad, leaving no return date. Charlotte was devastated and almost took her own life. I was the one who stayed by her side, comforting her day and night. I knew she loved romantic gestures, and I knew she loved showing off. So, on every holiday, I bought her the most expensive flowers and exquisite gifts to satisfy her vanity. I chased her like a shadow for three years before she finally agreed to be my girlfriend. I genuinely believed I had finally replaced Donald in her heart. But a first love is always a first love, apparently. The moment he returned, she threw everything we had built out the window for him. After calming down, I called my parents to let them know the wedding was off. I expected them to lecture me. After all, as a billionaire’s son, I had spent ten years acting like a beggar for a woman who ended up cheating on me. It was humiliating. But my parents simply sighed with relief. My mom laughed. “Finally woke up, huh? Marriage isn’t a game.” My dad added, “Marriage is a lifelong commitment. Choosing the wrong person leads to a lifetime of misery.” “Whatever you decide, we’ve got your back.” Yeah. Some people see marriage as a sacred promise, while others treat it like a joke. If she could cheat before the wedding, there was no way she would stay faithful after. Talking to my parents made me feel a lot better. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. I thought it was Charlotte, but it was actually a Snapchat message from Donald. “Anthony, it’s been a while. Come out for a drink tonight. All the old high school crew is here.” It turned out they had organized a high school reunion to welcome Donald back. The way he phrased it made it clear he was daring me to show up. Well, I wanted to go see just how shameless they could get. I also wanted to clear things up in front of everyone so nobody would make a laughingstock out of me behind my back. When I arrived at the VIP lounge, Charlotte and Donald were already sitting together, flirting openly. She was leaning heavily against his arm, laughing provocatively. Donald looked extremely smug, his arm casually brushing against her chest. If this had been the past, I would have punched him in the face immediately. To me, Charlotte had been a goddess who shouldn’t be touched by anyone else. But now, she was nothing to me. She was no longer the innocent girl from my memories.

As some old classmates greeted me, Charlotte finally noticed my arrival. A look of mockery washed over her face. “Anthony, I knew you’d crawl back. I knew you’d regret it!” “Let me tell you, if you don’t buy me that new limited-edition Chanel bag, I am never forgiving you!” I glanced at her coldly. “I’m not here for you. Donald invited me, so I decided to drop by.” Donald stood up, walking over to shake my hand with a wide, fake grin. “Anthony, you finally made it! Charlotte and I were just talking about you.” I chuckled coldly. “Talking about what? How she couldn’t forget you even after being with me for years? Or how you two got back together?” “Or perhaps you were talking about how shameless you both are, screwing on my new bed and tearing her black stockings to shreds?” The noisy room instantly fell dead silent. Our classmates, who had been laughing and drinking, stopped and stared at each other in shock. Donald’s smile froze, his expression darkening. “Anthony, I invited you here out of goodwill. What the hell are you talking about?!” Charlotte stood up too, her voice screeching. “Anthony! Shut your mouth! Don’t ruin this for everyone!” “Apologize right now, or don’t expect me to show up at the wedding in a few days. I’ll make sure you become the joke of the town!” A joke? I was already the joke. Everyone in this room knew Charlotte had dated me after Donald left. They all knew we were supposed to get married in a few days. Yet here she was, openly flirting with Donald in front of everyone. Since she wanted to play dirty, I was going to rip off her mask completely. I stared at Charlotte with an icy gaze until she began to look nervous. She stammered, “Why… why are you looking at me like that?! You’re the one being petty and making a scene!” Seeing my silence, she assumed I was backing down, just like I always did. She raised her voice, getting bolder. “Apologize to Donald right now and buy me that Chanel bag. Maybe then I’ll consider marrying you.” I laughed out of sheer anger. I had been so blind not to see how greedy and shameless she truly was. She cheated on me, and she expected me to buy her a luxury bag to apologize? Donald chimed in with a patronizing smirk. “Anthony, don’t be so dramatic. We’re all old friends. Charlotte and I are just close.” “We were just having a few drinks earlier. We didn’t do anything else. You’re out of line for taking your anger out on her.” Looking at his punchable face, the rage I had been suppressing finally boiled over. Before anyone could react, I lunged forward and threw a massive punch straight at his jaw! I pinned him to the floor, raining blows down on his face. By the time our classmates finally pulled me off him, his face was swollen like a balloon. Charlotte’s eyes ran red with tears for Donald. She flew into a rage and lunged to slap my face. I caught her wrist in mid-air, twisted it back, and shoved her away. She stumbled and fell hard onto the floor. “That’s it,” I said, my voice cutting through the room like ice. “Ten years of dealing with your garbage, and now we are even.” “Remember this: I am the one dumping you. The wedding is off. Don’t bother showing up.” “From now on, you’re dead to me. You can ‘test-drive’ whoever you want!” Charlotte clutched her bruised wrist on the floor, looking at me in absolute shock. She pointed a finger at me like a madwoman.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456540”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My boyfriend’s nephew had severe trauma and desperately needed professional therapy. But I was given a fake address. And my boyfriend, Julian, used my absence to let Grace, an intern, take my place. Julian is an illegitimate son. He wanted to use this chance to crawl back into the wealthy Sterling family and kiss up to Grace at the same time. His intentions were so transparent. I packed my things and left the therapy clinic that very day. I was done cleaning up this family’s toxic mess! When the session ended, the little boy forced a smile, and Grace acted like she was the queen of the world. But I knew better. It was all an illusion. His psychological trauma had only gotten worse. Meanwhile, Julian looked at me with pure disgust: “Don’t think this clinic can’t run without you! If you keep causing trouble, you can hand in your resignation!” He was so eager for his future billionaire life, and so eager to get closer to Grace. What he didn’t know was that a massive disaster was waiting for him right around the corner!

Noah, Max’s seven-year-old son, had been brutally mauled by a stray dog for nearly fifteen minutes. Since he was rescued, he had suffered from severe PTSD. He needed someone watching him 24/7 to prevent self-harm or suicide attempts. With my strong credentials and expertise, I had become a well-known child psychologist in the city. The moment Max heard about me, he came running for help. I stayed up for nights analyzing hundreds of similar cases and spent a lot of time building trust with Noah. Finally, after nearly three weeks, I developed a customized treatment plan for him. But just as I was about to start his first session, Julian left me a sticky note with a new address. Wealthy people have multiple properties, so I didn’t think twice about it. I took an Uber immediately. But when I arrived, there was no sign of anyone from the Sterling family. I quickly called Max, but he immediately lost his temper and screamed at me through the phone: “What kind of professional therapist are you? You almost killed Noah!” “You’ve been in contact with him for a month, and you did absolutely nothing! He got even worse today!” “If Julian hadn’t brought another therapist in time, I can’t even imagine what would have happened!” Only then did I learn that Noah had another severe self-harm episode this morning. He hallucinated that he was surrounded by wild dogs and almost jumped from the balcony. Fortunately, Julian and Grace arrived just in time to stop him. Because of my “mistake,” Grace was now the one treating Noah! But Grace was just an intern with zero clinical experience. How could she handle such a high-risk patient?! If she made even one mistake, it could cause irreversible damage to Noah! My professional ethics wouldn’t let me walk away from a child in danger. I rushed back immediately, but I got stuck in heavy traffic. By the time I arrived, the session was already over. Max was personally escorting them out the door: “Thank you both so much. If it weren’t for you, I might have lost Noah forever.” His eyes were bloodshot. There was no denying he was a loving father who cherished his son more than life itself. Grace squeezed out a few fake tears. “I’m just glad we could help, Mr. Sterling.” Max nodded: “Don’t worry. I keep my promises. Once Noah’s condition stabilizes a bit more, I will call my father.” A promise? Julian and Grace had cut a deal behind my back? This was a blatant violation of professional ethics. I marched over, burning with anger, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “Why did you give me the wrong address today?!” Julian looked just as furious, putting on a show: “I think you just realized you’re incompetent! You worked with Noah for so long without any progress, so you got scared and chickened out!” His raging face looked completely foreign to me. I froze for a long time before asking, “What are you even talking about?” Julian sneered, “Do you have any idea? Grace only took thirty minutes to stabilize Noah’s condition today!” “He’s even willing to go outside now!”

I looked at Noah, who was standing nearby. His face was completely blank, and his small body was shivering violently. Grace brushed it off, stepping closer to him. “It’s fine. Shivering is a normal reaction. He just needs to get used to it.” “The fact that he’s willing to come outside is already a huge step forward.” Noah forced a stiff smile at me. Max was so moved that tears welled up in his eyes. But in Noah’s eyes, I didn’t see the warmth of recovery. I only saw a dark, empty void—like he had completely given up on life! That look of sheer despair made it hard for me to breathe, yet everyone around him thought he was getting better. Grace, especially, was smugger than ever: “Well, Maya has always been the star of our clinic. It’s natural for her to be overly cautious.” Max looked at me with nothing but disgust: “I think she’s just been put on a pedestal for too long. She thinks nothing can function without her!” “To think she would make up such a pathetic lie to cover up her own mistake. Truly pathetic.” On the drive back, Noah’s expression haunted me. He was only seven. How could he have such a hopeless, forced smile? I turned to Grace and demanded again, “What exactly did you do to therapy him?” Grace sighed, looking helpless: “I know you’ve always looked down on me because I’m just an inexperienced intern.” “But it was an absolute emergency, and you weren’t there. I had no choice but to step up.” “I was terrified too, okay? It was so much pressure.” “If I messed up and angered Max, Julian would never have a chance to get back into the Sterling family.” Julian chimed in, his face serious. “Maya, stop acting so self-righteous!” “You’re the one who failed to show up, and Grace cleaned up your massive mess.” “Instead of thanking her, you’re here acting like some moral guardian.” I pulled out the sticky note. “I didn’t fail to show up! You gave me this fake address!” Julian denied it instantly. “I never wrote that. Stop trying to drag me down. This is a critical time for me, so stop playing your petty mind games.” No matter how much I questioned them during the rest of the drive, they both ignored me. I didn’t know what kind of deal they had made with Max, and I didn’t know what Grace had done to Noah. It was like they shared a dirty secret. Julian was my boyfriend, but the way he looked at Grace was filled with affection, while he looked at me with nothing but absolute disgust! When we got out of the car, I watched Grace casually wrap her arm around his. Julian beamed, announcing to the entire clinic staff: “Grace did it. She saved Noah Sterling!” Deafening applause erupted around me. “I knew Grace had it in her!” “Mr. Sterling is loaded. He might even invest in our clinic now!” Looking at the clinic I had worked myself to the bone to build, I suddenly felt like an outsider who needed to leave. I had been so busy designing the perfect therapy plans that I hadn’t even noticed when Grace and Julian had become so close! Our clinic wasn’t huge, but it had a stellar reputation. For the past few years, I had worked day and night, treating every single patient with care to get us to where we were. I strove for perfection, but my strict attitude had apparently rubbed many of my colleagues the wrong way. These people had probably been waiting for me to fail so they could push me out. From a distance, I saw Grace blushing, practically burying herself in Julian’s chest. She said, “It was all thanks to Julian.” “And guys, we might not even need outside investors anymore.” “Because Julian is actually Max Sterling’s brother!” More gasps of admiration followed. They started whispering about how successful Julian was, giving up his inheritance just to experience the life of a regular guy. Someone even said: “Now I know why Mr. Sterling didn’t go to those world-class clinics and chose us instead!” “It’s because Julian is his brother!” My credentials, my hard work, and the clinic’s reputation had been built brick by brick by me! Yet, with just a few sentences, they erased every single ounce of my effort over the years!

My eyes burned with unshed tears. I suddenly remembered that not long ago, when Max first reached out to me for a consultation, Julian had been furious. He had demanded to know how I got in touch with Max. He had even started toxic rumors: “Max’s wife died shortly after giving birth, and he hasn’t remarried. Are you trying to sleep your way into a billionaire family?” We had a huge fight over that, and he slammed the door, staying out all night. When he came back the next morning, there was a glaring hickey on his neck. At the time, he claimed it was an insect bite. I was so focused on Noah’s therapy plan and so hurt by his wild accusations that I didn’t look into it. Now it was obvious that Julian and Grace had already hooked up back then. I had been with Julian for years. He had always told me he was an illegitimate child who grew up without a father’s love. I felt so much pity for him back then, trying my best to make up for his childhood trauma. I completely forgot that I was just a young girl myself back then. Later, he said he wanted to start his own business to prove himself to the father who abandoned him. So, without hesitation, I quit my high-paying job at a major hospital to help him build this clinic. But as the clinic grew and we hired more staff, his heart changed. He didn’t want to be a therapist anymore. Maybe we had already started drifting apart back then. Yet, like an idiot, I thought he was just getting closer to his dreams! Over the years, I had healed so many patients, but I completely ignored the rot in my own relationship. The sticky note with the wrong address was undoubtedly a setup by the two of them. They wanted to bypass me, strike a deal with Max, and get Julian back into the Sterling family trust. From then on, he would have an easy life, leaning on the Sterling empire. Sitting in my car, tears finally streamed down my face. These two were rotten to the core! For their own selfish gain, they had harmed a defenseless seven-year-old child! During my weeks with Noah, I knew he was an incredibly sweet boy. The signals he gave me showed he wanted to survive, he wanted to get better. But now, that tiny spark of hope had likely been crushed by Grace. Even though Max’s trust in me was at rock bottom, I couldn’t just stand by and watch Noah walk into a trap. I called Max repeatedly, hoping to talk to him. But Max just yelled at me again and blocked my number. I understood Max’s desperation. He was known to be a deeply devoted husband who had never been with another woman since his wife passed away seven years ago. Noah was the proof of their love, so of course he would protect him at all costs. I couldn’t bear to think of what would happen to Max if Noah actually got hurt. To prevent a tragedy, I had to try one more time. After all, Max had come to me first. I couldn’t let an innocent child become collateral damage in their greed. I went back to the Sterling estate, hoping to see Noah. I needed to know how Grace was treating him. If I could figure out her method, I might be able to find a way to reverse the damage. Unsurprisingly, Max refused to see me, and his security wouldn’t let me near Noah. After being kicked out, I stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the window with security bars. Noah was standing right there. I forced a warm smile and waved at him. Noah tilted his head, watching me. I saw his lips move, silently saying, “Not scared.” That was what I had told him every day for the past month. He remembered. Tears of relief rushed to my eyes! He was still in there! He could still be saved! Even from a distance, I tried my best to communicate with him, trying to give him the will to hold on. But Julian quickly caught up to me. He dragged me toward his car, ignoring my struggles. When I resisted, he slapped me across the face. I cried out in pain. In the next second, Noah began banging violently on his window. He had been mauled by wild dogs; he couldn’t stand witnessing violence. The trigger sent him into a panic, and he pointed at me, screaming at the top of his lungs. I knew he was trying to protect me, but Max, who rushed in hearing the noise, completely misunderstood the situation. “Do you have to kill my son to be satisfied?!” Max roared.

Noah tried to explain, but the family doctor quickly administered a sedative, and he soon fell asleep. Julian forced me back to our apartment. It was the first time he had ever been violent with me. I sat there in shock for a long time. He glared at me, hissing, “You almost ruined our chances, and now you sneak over to their house to cause more drama!” “Are you trying to get Max to ruin us?!” He had become a complete stranger. I stared at him, trying to connect this monstrous face with the gentle boyfriend I used to know. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Didn’t you use to call Max Sterling a hypocritical, fake-ass husband? Why the sudden change of heart?” Julian’s eyes darted away, and he raised his voice: “Are you just terrified that I’ll dump you once I’m back in high society? Is that why you’re trying to ruin me?!” If I wanted to ruin him, I would have never sacrificed everything to start over with him! I wouldn’t have worked myself to the bone for the clinic! At that moment, I saw him for what he truly was. In the face of money and status, I was just disposable trash. I wiped my tears and asked, “You used to be a therapist too. Have you forgotten why we started? Letting Grace treat Noah is going to destroy him!” Julian scoffed, “I don’t care about the details. I only care about results.” “Noah went outside, his symptoms are improving, I’m getting what I want, and Grace gets a huge boost on her resume.” “It’s a win-win for everyone. You’re just bitter because you didn’t get a piece of the pie!” I couldn’t listen to him anymore. “Julian! You’re out of your mind!” Julian yelled back, “Yeah, I am! I was out of my mind when I chose to be with you in the first place!” Finally, the truth came out. He had climbed onto my shoulders to reach the top. And instead of showing any gratitude, he calculated my worth, drained me of my last bit of value, and discarded me. I choked back my tears. “Fine. Let’s break up.” I was so glad we were never married. It was just a breakup, not a messy divorce. Julian didn’t look sad at all. If anything, he looked relieved. “Fine by me.” “You’re too selfish anyway. You only care about your own fame and refuse to see that your methods don’t work for everyone!” I laughed coldly. “I treated hundreds of patients before this, and you never said my methods didn’t work.” “Now that Grace is here, suddenly I’m the incompetent one?” Julian frowned. “Stop twisting my words! You brought a massive PR disaster to my clinic. How are we going to settle that?” He was forcing me out of the relationship, and now he was forcing me out of my job. “I’ll resign tomorrow,” I said. But Julian couldn’t wait another second. “No need. The clinic is mine. I’m approving your termination right now. Pack your shit and get out.” Back then, he told me he would handle all the administrative work so I could focus entirely on being a therapist. But he had been planning this all along, quietly cutting me out of the business operations so he could kick me out when the time was right! What a perfect snake. I stood up and violently shoved him out the front door. “You’re the one who needs to get out! I bought this apartment with my own money! I’ll throw your trash into the hallway tonight!” Julian, fully believing he was about to become a billionaire, sneered, “Keep your shitty apartment! I don’t need it!” I packed every single thing that belonged to him and threw it out. Having his things in my space made me feel physically sick.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456539”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Three years of marriage, and I thought my husband, Sergio, and I were perfect. I worked as an elementary school teacher, and Sergio was a product manager at a smart home tech company. That afternoon, school let out early. I gave Sergio a call and asked him to pick me up on his way home. His black Audi pulled up quickly. I opened the passenger door and slid in, a practiced routine. “Hey, babe. Hard day?” Sergio smiled, handing me a steaming cup of coffee. “What do you want for dinner tonight?” I took the cup, about to answer, but my body suddenly froze. Something was wrong. The seat position was off. I’m only 5’4″. I always keep the passenger seat pulled all the way forward so I can reach the dashboard to set my phone down. But right now, the backrest was tilted way back, and the seat itself had been pushed back at least four inches. “Did you move my passenger seat?” I turned to look at Sergio. “Huh?” Sergio blinked, then tapped the steering wheel as if suddenly remembering. “Oh, right. Eric rode with me the day before yesterday. He probably adjusted it. You know how tall he is. He definitely wouldn’t fit in your usual spot.” Eric. Sergio’s childhood best friend. At 6’1″, he would indeed be cramped in my seat. The explanation was perfectly logical. But a voice inside my head whispered—no, it’s not. Sergio and I had been together for five years. He had one rule he never broke: Eric always sat in the back. Sergio used to say the passenger seat was my exclusive spot. No matter how close he was with his friends, they sat in the back. Eric even used to tease us about it, saying I demanded VIP treatment. “Since when does Eric sit shotgun?” I kept my voice casual. “His car was in the shop on Tuesday, and I picked him up to go talk about a potential partnership,” Sergio said, driving smoothly. His tone was incredibly natural. “It was just the two of us. He couldn’t exactly sit in the back like I was his Uber driver, right?” It made sense. It made total sense. But wait. Didn’t I remember Eric driving his white BMW to pick us up for dinner just last weekend? “What happened to his car?” I took a sip of my coffee, acting indifferent. “Transmission issues, I think,” Sergio replied quickly. I nodded and said nothing more. The car fell silent, save for the occasional chime of the GPS. I stared at the city streets rolling past, my mind racing. A broken transmission takes at least three to five days to fix in a shop. Tuesday was two days ago. Today was Thursday. Even if Eric’s car really broke down, did the timeline actually add up? And then there was the seat. I pressed my hand against the leather backrest. It still felt faintly warm. I inhaled gently. There was a faint scent in the air—not my usual jasmine perfume, but a stronger, sweeter citrus note. Not many men wore that kind of scent. Eric certainly didn’t. He was a rugged guy who always smelled of cheap cologne and tobacco. “Sergio,” I said suddenly. “Yeah?” “Where did you and Eric go for that meeting on Tuesday?” Sergio’s fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. It was a tiny gesture, but I caught it. “The tech park over in Silicon Valley,” he said. “A new startup. Eric wanted to get me in on the investment.” “How did it go?” “Still thinking about it.” Sergio turned and smiled at me. “It’s a big investment. I need to do more research.” We stopped at a red light. I looked down and noticed the glove compartment was slightly ajar. Peeking out from the gap was a pink hair tie. I never used pink hair ties. All of mine were black or dark navy, neatly arranged on my vanity at home. My heart began to thud violently against my ribs. “What’s this?” I picked up the hair tie, my voice trembling slightly.

Sergio glanced over, his brows knitting slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe you dropped it a while ago?” “I don’t wear pink.” “Then maybe…” Sergio paused, thinking. “Oh, right! It must be Belle’s. Eric brought his daughter along in my car last week. That little girl loves going through my stuff.” Belle was only five years old. Would a five-year-old wear an adult-sized pink scrunchie? The light turned green, and the car surged forward. I clutched the pink scrunchie, my knuckles turning white. Outside, the world was bustling and normal, but I felt like my entire life was quietly fracturing. When we got home, I slipped the pink scrunchie into my purse. Sergio started making dinner like usual. He was a great cook, which was one of the reasons I fell in love with him in college. The rich aroma of searing steak filled the kitchen. He was even humming a song, looking completely normal. I sat on the couch, my phone screen lighting up and going dark in my hands. Taking a deep breath, I opened Instagram. Eric’s last post was from three days ago—a gym selfie captioned “Monday Motivation.” Monday. That was four days ago. Scrolling further down, he indeed had posted a picture of his BMW last weekend, showing off a new dashcam he’d installed. Broken transmission? I switched to Sergio’s Instagram. On Tuesday, he had posted a photo of a coffee cup and a contract, captioned “Busy day.” The location tag was his office downtown. No Silicon Valley. No tech park. “Scarlett, dinner’s ready!” Sergio called from the kitchen. I locked my phone, stood up, and walked to the dining room. The table was set with all my favorites. Sergio pulled out my chair, his actions tender and sweet, just like any other day. “Tired? Did those little monsters at school give you a headache today?” he asked. “Not too bad.” I cut a piece of steak. “By the way, driving to Silicon Valley on Tuesday must have taken over an hour, right? Was the traffic bad?” “Yeah, pretty brutal,” Sergio replied smoothly. “But chatting with Eric made the time fly.” “What exactly is the project about?” Sergio hesitated for a fraction of a second, then laughed. “Since when are you interested in my work? You usually say tech talk bores you to death.” “Just curious,” I smiled back. “If we’re investing our savings, it’s a big deal for our family.” “It’s not that complicated. Just smart home integration systems,” Sergio explained seamlessly. “Great market potential, but the upfront cost is high. That’s why I’m hesitant.” Smart home integration. It sounded plausible, and he had the details down. But something still felt deeply off. “Is Eric’s car really having transmission trouble?” I asked casually. “Is it fixed yet?” This time, Sergio’s fork paused in mid-air. It was only for half a second, but I saw it clearly. “Should be soon,” he said. “I didn’t ask for details.” “You should ask him tomorrow,” I said with a smile. “I want to invite him and Jenna over for dinner this weekend. It’s been a while.” A flash of unease crossed Sergio’s face, quickly masked by a warm grin. “Sure. I’ll ask them tomorrow if they’re free.” After dinner, I offered to do the dishes. Sergio curled up on the couch to watch a football game, cheering occasionally. He looked exactly like the perfect, loving husband. I stood by the kitchen sink, watching his reflection in the dark window pane. Sergio picked up his phone, tapped it a few times, then set it down. A moment later, he grabbed it again, stood up, and walked into the bedroom. I turned off the faucet and quietly crept to the bedroom door. The door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I could see Sergio with his back to me, speaking in a hushed, urgent whisper. “Yeah… I know… let’s lay low for a few days… I’ll handle it…”

My heart sank into a cold abyss. Who was he calling? If it was work, why hide from me? If it was Eric, why was he whispering? The call ended quickly. The moment Sergio turned around, I slipped back to the kitchen and pretended to wipe down the counter. “Scarlett, what movie do you want to watch tonight?” Sergio walked out, looking relaxed. “I saw some new releases on Netflix.” “Whatever you want,” I said. “You choose.” That night, we snuggled on the couch just like we always did. My head rested on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around my waist. It felt intimate and safe. But I didn’t process a single scene of the movie. My mind was consumed by the pink scrunchie, the adjusted seat, and that whispered phone call. At 2:00 AM, Sergio was fast asleep, his breathing heavy and steady. I quietly slipped out of bed and picked up his phone. Using his face ID while he slept, I unlocked it. We had always shared our passcodes—it was supposed to be a symbol of our trust. His call history looked perfectly normal. Just clients, friends, and family. His messages seemed fine too. The most recent thread was planning a game night with Eric and discussing a project with a colleague. I scrolled back to Tuesday night. At 8:30 PM, he had sent a voice note to Eric: “Are you free tomorrow?” Eric replied: “What’s up?” Sergio: “I have a project I want to pitch to you.” Eric: “Sure. My car is getting serviced anyway, pick me up.” The conversation seemed normal. The timeline matched. But my heart was still hammering. Because when I played the voice note and heard Sergio’s voice, his tone was far more formal than how he usually talked to his best friend. It sounded… rehearsed. Like he was put on the spot. Then, I scrolled further down. I saw a system notification in a Snapchat thread. “You cleared a chat.” The chat had been cleared today at 6:00 PM, right before he picked me up. The name of the contact was hidden or deleted. I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling. Why delete it? What was in that chat? Who was he talking to? “Scarlett?” Sergio’s groggy voice suddenly startled me from behind. I froze, almost dropping the phone. “Why are you awake?” Sergio asked, rubbing his eyes. “What are you looking at?” “I… I wanted to check something,” I lied quickly, locking the screen. “I suddenly remembered I needed to prep some lesson plans for tomorrow.” “Can’t you use your own phone?” Sergio asked. There was a subtle, sharp edge of suspicion in his voice. “My battery is dead.” I handed his phone back to him. “I’ll just use my laptop. Go back to sleep.” Sergio took the phone, giving me a look that made my skin crawl. He didn’t say anything. He just nodded. “Don’t stay up too late.” He turned back into the bedroom. I sat in the dark living room, listening to the pounding of my own chest. From that moment on, a wall of secrets stood between Sergio and me. He had his secrets, and I had my suspicions. And our home was slowly turning into a stranger’s house. The next morning, Sergio left for work as usual. He kissed me goodbye and told me he’d be home early. I smiled, waved, and watched his car pull out of the driveway. The second the elevator doors closed, I pulled out my phone. Texting Eric would be too obvious, so I messaged Jenna instead. Jenna and I had always been close. “Hey Jenna! Are you guys free this weekend? It’s been too long, let’s grab dinner,” I texted. Jenna replied almost instantly. “Omg yes! I miss you guys. Let me know the time and place, and I’ll tell Eric.” “By the way,” I probed casually, “did Eric get his car fixed? Sergio mentioned his transmission blew.”

On the screen, the typing bubble flickered for what felt like an eternity. My throat went completely dry. “Transmission?” Jenna replied with a confused emoji. “No, his car is totally fine. Are you sure you didn’t misremember?” I stared at the text. My fingers froze over the screen. It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing the breath out of my lungs. “Maybe I did,” I typed back quickly. “Let’s do Saturday night then. Our usual spot?” “Perfect! See you then!” Jenna replied with an OK emoji. I let my phone drop onto the couch and collapsed backward. His car wasn’t broken. It was never broken. So who did Sergio pick up on Tuesday? Who sat in my passenger seat? And who owned that pink scrunchie and that citrus perfume? I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. Don’t panic, I told myself. You need to stay calm. You need more facts. On Saturday night, we met at our favorite Italian restaurant downtown. Eric and Jenna were already there with their five-year-old daughter, Belle. Belle had her hair up in twin pigtails, secured by blue butterfly clips. No scrunchies. “Auntie Scarlett!” Belle squealed, running into my arms. I hugged her tight, but my eyes were locked on Eric’s face. He looked completely relaxed, chatting with Sergio about a football game. There was zero awkwardness. If they were hiding something together, they deserved Academy Awards. “So, Sergio, have you made up your mind about that smart home project?” Eric asked after we ordered our food. I froze. Sergio paused for a second, then chuckled. “Still looking into it. Don’t rush me, man. It’s a big chunk of cash.” “What project?” Jenna asked curiously. “Smart home tech,” Eric explained. “I got a few guys from my firm to invest, and Sergio is the last one holding out.” “Ooh, that sounds like a great market,” Jenna said, intrigued. “Maybe we should put some more money in too.” “What do you know about tech?” Eric teased, waving his hand. “The risk is high. Sergio’s right to be cautious.” I listened quietly, pretending to play with Belle, but every ounce of my attention was on Sergio. He spoke naturally. His conversation with Eric matched up perfectly. If this was a staged act, they had rehearsed it to perfection. “Oh, by the way, Eric,” I spoke up suddenly. “Did you ride in Sergio’s car on Tuesday?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456538”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

After I died, Victoria finally smiled. It was a smile of pure relief, a look I had never seen on her face in my entire life. She held Lily’s portrait tightly against her chest. The resentment and hatred that had etched deep lines between her eyebrows seemed to vanish the exact moment I drew my last breath. “Lily,” Victoria whispered, her voice cracking with a fragile, broken tenderness. “That nuisance is finally gone. Now, it’s just the two of us left in this house. Aren’t you happy?” I floated in the air. My translucent soul was pierced by the warm glow of the living room lights, yet I couldn’t feel a single ounce of warmth. My body was still locked inside the tiny utility closet next to the kitchen, a space less than twenty square feet. My flesh had already grown cold. The skin that had been burning with a high fever just hours ago was now losing the last trace of human temperature. And the reason for my death? It was simply because, at my sister’s memorial dinner, I had asked a single question: “Victoria… can I please have a tiny piece of cake?”

Today would have been Lily’s tenth birthday. It was also the third anniversary of her death. The living room was decorated like a fairytale kingdom. There were streamers, balloons, and a custom eight-tier fondant cake. Standing on top of the cake was a delicate sugar figurine in a princess dress, looking seventy percent like Lily. David had invited many guests. They were all his business partners, and they had brought their children along. Victoria wore an elegant evening gown. Holding a champagne glass, she mingled effortlessly among the guests, a polite but distant smile plastered on her face. None of the guests knew that beneath that perfect smile lay a heart shattered and filled with venomous hatred. As for me, I was like a mismatched ghost at this grand party. I had been ordered to stay in my bedroom and not make a single sound. I pressed my face against the crack of the door, greedily sniffing the sweet, rich scent of buttercream drifting from the living room. I hadn’t eaten a single thing all day. Ever since I was seven, when I handed Lily my favorite nut chocolate—unknowingly triggering her severe nut allergy, which led to fatal anaphylactic shock—all “sweetness” had been stripped from my life. Victoria said Lily loved sweets. She said a murderer like me didn’t deserve to taste anything sweet ever again. All my allowance was confiscated. The housekeeper was strictly instructed never to give me any food containing sugar. My plate always held nothing but bland, unseasoned pasta and boiled broccoli. Sometimes, when the hunger became unbearable, I would sneakily pick up candy wrappers David had thrown in the trash can, licking the residual sweetness left on the plastic over and over again. Tonight, that sweet aroma was like an invisible hand, clawing at my empty stomach. I heard the guests singing the birthday song in the living room. Children giggled, crowding around Victoria as she cut the beautiful cake. Possessed by hunger, I turned the doorknob. The waves of laughter and music instantly drowned me. Everyone was immersed in the joy. No one noticed the extremely skinny girl standing in the corner in a faded, oversized pajama set. My eyes were glued to the cake. Victoria was cutting the largest slice, carefully placing it onto a delicate pink porcelain plate. She carried it over and set it gently in front of Lily’s portrait. “Happy birthday, Lily. Look, I made your favorite strawberry cake,” Victoria’s voice was so soft it could melt. Watching her back, my throat tightened. My feet moved on their own, drawing me closer. Perhaps my gaze was too intense. Victoria suddenly turned around. The moment she saw me, the warmth and tenderness on her face froze. It was instantly replaced by a bone-chilling disgust and hatred. “What are you doing out here? Get back to your room!” she hissed through her teeth, keeping her voice low. The noise of the party seemed to fade into a mute background. My entire world shrank down to her freezing glare. I clutched the hem of my shirt. My lips trembled for a long time before I finally managed a tiny, pathetic whisper. “Victoria… can I… can I please have a small piece of cake? Just a tiny bite…” “SLAP!” A sharp, resounding slap echoed through the room. The pink porcelain plate slipped from her hand, shattering on the hardwood floor. The perfect slice of cake fell into the dirt and ruins, becoming a messy, ruined heap. My cheek burned with a stinging pain. My ears rang violently.

Victoria’s eyes flushed a dangerous red, like a cornered lioness. She grabbed me by my hair, dragging me brutally off the floor, and hauled me toward the utility closet next to the kitchen. “Cake? You think you deserve to eat Lily’s cake? You killed your own sister! Why didn’t you die instead of her?!” Her hysterical screams shattered the harmony of the party. The guests turned to look in shock. David’s face darkened. He quickly stepped forward to stop her. “That’s enough, Victoria! The guests are still here!” “Get off me!” Victoria shoved his hand away. “I’m going to teach this brat a lesson today! She dared to show her face on Lily’s anniversary. She wants me dead, doesn’t she?!” A look of exhaustion and annoyance flashed across David’s face, but in the end, he chose to avoid a scene. He cast a cold, detached glance at me, as if looking at an inconvenient piece of trash. “Maybe locking her inside to reflect is a good idea,” David murmured. He condoned Victoria’s cruelty. The utility closet door slammed shut with a heavy “BANG”, followed by the distinct sound of a key turning in the lock. The world plunged into absolute darkness and silence. I curled up on the cold floor. The stinging pain on my cheek gradually went numb, replaced by a familiar, bone-deep chill. This dark closet had been my most frequent shelter for the past three years. Whenever I upset Victoria, I would be locked in here. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. At first, I used to cry. I would bang on the door, screaming for David and Victoria. But later, I realized my cries only brought worse abuse from Victoria and longer lockups. So, I learned to be quiet. I hugged my knees, waiting for the time to pass as I always did. But today, my body felt wrong. Since the afternoon, my head had been heavy and dizzy, my limbs weak. Now, locked in this damp, freezing closet, the chill was creeping up my spine like a thousand icy needles. My forehead burned hotter by the minute. The darkness began to spin. I realized I had a high fever. Using the last of my strength, I raised my hand and tapped weakly on the wooden door. “Victoria… David… I feel sick…” My voice was hoarse and dry, a whisper so faint it barely left my throat. Outside, the party seemed to have ended. I could hear David saying goodbye to the guests, followed by Victoria’s muffled, bitter weeping. Nobody came for me. The fever began to consume my consciousness. A suffocating pressure rushed over me like a tide. In my haze, I thought I saw Lily. She was wearing her beautiful princess dress, holding the nut chocolate I had given her, smiling at me innocently. “Chloe, this chocolate is so good. Let’s share it, half and half, okay?” I shook my head violently, tears pouring down my face. “Don’t eat it… Lily, I’m sorry… I didn’t know you were allergic… I’m so sorry…” This apology, three years late, was something I only dared to whisper in my dreams, during the countless nights I spent locked in this dark room. I wanted to tell her that if I could, I would gladly trade my life for hers. Just like Victoria had cursed me to do, a thousand times… In the final moments of my consciousness, I heard David’s exhausted voice from outside the door. “Victoria, stop crying. Is it really worth torturing a living child for the sake of one who is already gone?” Victoria snapped back sharply, “A living child? David, don’t forget, Chloe killed our Lily! She doesn’t deserve to live!” Ah. My name is Chloe. It had been so, so long since I heard anyone call me by my name. They usually called me “that thing,” “the brat,” or “the murderer.” My body felt lighter and lighter. My soul, like a wisp of smoke, drifted gently out of the closet, leaving my physical shell behind. I was dead. I died during my sister’s tenth birthday party. And my mother, after cursing me one last time, finally smiled with relief.

David finally opened the closet door. It was noon the next day. After the housekeeper finished making lunch, she habitually asked, “Mr. Miller, what about Chloe’s lunch…?” Victoria was arranging a fresh bouquet of flowers. Hearing the name, she didn’t even look up. She sneered, “Let her starve to death. It saves me the headache of looking at her.” David’s brow furrowed slightly. Without a word, he walked over to the utility closet, took out the key, and unlocked the cold brass lock. The moment the door swung open, he froze. Floating right behind him, I clearly saw his pupils contract with terror. Inside the tiny closet, I was curled up in the corner. My body was stiff in an unnatural posture, my face a sickening shade of blue-purple, my lips cracked and dry. I looked like a withered flower, forgotten in a dark corner. “Chloe?” David called out experimentally, his voice trembling with a hint of fear he didn’t even realize he had. He reached out, placing his fingers beneath my nose. There was nothing. Just cold, lifeless stillness. David’s body shook violently. He stumbled back two steps, crashing against the hallway wall. All color drained from his face. From the living room, Victoria seemed to notice his silence. She called out impatiently, “What’s wrong? Is that brat playing dead again?” David’s lips trembled, but he couldn’t make a sound. He suddenly lunged forward, slammed the closet door shut, and locked it again. Then, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, he walked back to the living room. “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice incredibly hoarse. “She’s sleeping.” He didn’t dare tell Victoria. He knew that if Victoria—whose mental health was already extremely fragile—found out I had died this way inside their own home, she would completely lose her mind. For the past three years, he had been walking a tightrope, trying desperately to keep this broken family together. He was both an accomplice and a victim. He turned a blind eye to Victoria’s abuse, yet spent his nights drinking glass after glass of whiskey in front of Lily’s portrait. He loved Lily. And once, he had loved me too. But that love had been completely eroded by daily arguments, his wife’s endless tears, and the constant misery in the house. Now, he just wanted to protect what was left of his marriage. He wanted to protect Victoria, his only remaining family. Even if the price was erasing every single trace of my existence. That afternoon, David claimed he had an urgent matter at the office and rushed out. I followed him. I watched him drive to a hardware store in the suburbs, where he bought a brand-new shovel and several heavy-duty black trash bags. My heart sank. What he was about to do was obvious. That night, after Victoria had taken her sleeping pills and fallen into a deep slumber, David unlocked the utility closet once again. He didn’t turn on the lights. Using only the faint glow of his phone screen, he struggled to stuff my cold, stiff body into the largest black trash bag.

As he pulled the zipper shut, his hands shook violently. I saw a hot tear drop onto the black plastic bag, disappearing instantly into the dark material. Was that a tear? David, are you crying for me? I wanted so badly to ask him, but I was just a silent spirit. Like a thief in the night, he hoisted the “trash bag” onto his shoulder and carried it to the backyard, walking toward the large maple tree. This had been Lily’s favorite spot. She used to love playing on the swing set here. David began to dig, one shovel of dirt at a time. The night was deep and quiet. The only sound was the muffled “thud” of the shovel slicing into the damp earth. His movements were clumsy and strained. Sweat soaked his dress shirt, clinging to his back and outlining his tired, slouched shoulders. He had once been a sharp, successful businessman. But in the last three years, he had aged decades. Finally, a deep pit was ready. He gently lowered the black bag into the earth. But when he raised the shovel to throw the first pile of dirt back in, he stopped. He knelt by the edge of the pit and lit a cigarette. The tiny red ember glowed in the darkness, illuminating his tortured, twisted face. “Chloe,” he finally spoke, his voice incredibly cracked. “Don’t hate me… I had no choice… Victoria… she can’t take any more shock.” “Do this for the family. For me and Victoria. Just… rest in peace. I hope you find peace in your next life, and get a better family next time. Don’t come back to us.” He inhaled the entire cigarette in one long drag, then crushed the butt into the dirt, as if extinguishing the last spark of guilt in his heart. Then, he began to shovel the dirt back in frantically. Shovel after shovel, until the pit was completely filled, burying me and every trace of my existence deep beneath the dark earth. He even transplanted a patch of sod from another part of the yard, patting it down until the grave looked completely invisible. When it was over, he collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily. I floated among the branches of the maple tree, watching him silently. I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel hatred. Only a vast, endless sorrow. So, my death really was a relief to them. I was the most unwanted piece in this household. Maybe this was for the best. Now that I was dead, Victoria wouldn’t scream at the sight of me, and David wouldn’t have to choose sides anymore. Was my sin finally paid for?

Over the next few days, a strange, eerie peace settled over the house. A long-lost smile returned to Victoria’s face. She hummed tunes while gardening and happily researched new recipes. She never mentioned my name, as if I had never existed. Only in the dead of night would she hold Lily’s photo album, stroking the pages and whispering, “Lily, look. Without that nuisance here, isn’t our home so much happier?” David, on the other hand, became even more silent. He went to work on time, ate dinner with Victoria, and watched TV. But his mind was always elsewhere. He would often stare blankly out the window for hours. I knew what he was looking at. He was looking at the maple tree in the backyard. The place where my bones were buried. Guilt was like a weed, silently wrapping around his heart in the dark. But this artificial peace was shattered on the third day. The doorbell rang. It was my teacher. She was a gentle woman, and beside Lily, she was the only person who had ever shown me any kindness in this world. She was the one who noticed when I forgot my lunch and would secretly slide a sandwich into my desk. She was the one who saw the bruises on my wrists, pulled me into her office to apply ointment, and gently tried to ask about my home life. But I had been too terrified to say anything. I was afraid that if I spoke, Victoria would lock me in the closet for even longer. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, hello,” Ms. Gable stood at the door, a polite but worried smile on her face. “I’m here for a home visit. Chloe hasn’t been to school for three days, and my calls went unanswered. I was getting worried.” Hearing my name, the smile on Victoria’s face instantly vanished. She shot Ms. Gable a cold, sharp look. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s probably throwing a tantrum and hiding somewhere. Just ignore her.” David quickly stepped forward to smooth things over. “Ms. Gable, I’m so sorry. Chloe… we sent her to her grandmother’s cabin upstate. We’re planning to transfer her to a school up there. It was a rushed decision, so we forgot to notify the school.” It was a lie full of holes. My grandmother had passed away five years ago. Ms. Gable clearly knew this. Her smile faded, and her eyes grew sharp and serious. “Really? Because I spoke with her grandmother—your mother—just yesterday, and she knew nothing about this.” David’s face turned paper-white. “And…” Ms. Gable stared dead into David’s eyes, “some of Chloe’s classmates mentioned that on the night of the party, she was beaten by Mrs. Miller and locked up.” “Is that true, Mr. Miller?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456537”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My boyfriend, Austin Carter, had a female childhood friend he grew up with. On his birthday, I rushed back from a business trip just to celebrate with him. She looked me up and down, letting out a sharp scoff. “I’ve seen plenty of girls like her. Straight out of some cheap socialite boot camp!” “They target rich guys like you, Austin. She’s probably memorized all your likes and dislikes. This whole relationship? A tailor-made trap!” Hearing this, I smirked. She was only half right. I was indeed a high-society heiress. But Austin? He wasn’t worth the effort of a “tailor-made” trap. I walked over, sat directly opposite her, and sneered, “And which Madame trained you, then? You seem to know an awful lot about that industry.” Hearing this, she grabbed Austin’s arm, whining, “Austin, I told you we shouldn’t have invited her! But you insisted I help you check her out!” Austin glared at me, his eyes cold and stern. “Chloe, that’s out of line!” I couldn’t believe my ears. It wasn’t out of line when she insulted me, but the moment I fought back, I was the bad guy? “Austin, did you leave your brain at home today?” “You asked her to ‘check me out’? What, is there something about me you don’t know that you need her as your consultant?” Austin stood up, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Chloe, stop pretending. Tell me, where did all your designer clothes come from? And that luxury car you drive—the one you swap out every few weeks? Where did you get the money for that?” “You told me your family was in business, ranked in the top three of the city’s wealthiest. But guess what? There’s no one named ‘Sterling’ on that billionaire list!” “Chloe, you’ve disappointed me so much.” With every word he spoke, my fists clenched tighter. But when he mentioned that there was no “Sterling” on the billionaire list, I almost burst out laughing. I took my mother’s last name. Is that a crime? Ashley Vance, his little green-tea bestie, sighed dramatically. “Austin, forget it. It’s good you saw her true colors early. Some gold diggers just don’t know their place.” I raised an eyebrow. “Gold digger?” Austin cleared his throat. “Alright, Chloe. Now that we’ve exposed you, stop acting. Today is my birthday. Don’t make a scene.” “Make a scene? Austin, I cut my business trip short and flew back just to celebrate with you, and you bring this toxic snake to slander me?” “I must have been blind to ever date you. You really think you’re something, don’t you?” Before he could reply, I grabbed my wine glass and splashed the red wine right in his face! “You want a scene? I’ll give you one. And remember—I’m dumping you!” Ashley screamed in horror. “How dare you splash him!” “Oh right, I almost forgot about you!” Before she could react, I swung my arm and delivered a harsh, echoing slap right across her face! Then, I grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open, and poured a dirty glass of ashtray water right down her throat! “Clean your mouth out. It reeks, and I wouldn’t want it ruining your precious Austin’s night.” Ignoring her gagging and hysterical screams behind me, I slammed the door and walked out. In my world, Chloe Sterling never wastes time arguing. If I can swing a punch, I do. Otherwise, a loser like Austin would have never gotten a chance with me in the first place. On my drive back, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Austin: “Chloe, you’ve gone too far! Ashley is calling the cops. Just you wait!” I let out a cold laugh. Did he really think I was afraid of the police? What a coincidence. I was going to report them too. Slander has consequences. I spun the steering wheel and drove straight to the police station. As soon as I walked in, I saw Ashley. Her face was swollen, tears welling in her eyes as she hid behind Austin. Seeing me, she whimpered, “Chloe, physical violence is wrong. I only pointed out the truth. You are psycho!” The officer nearby turned to me. “Ms. Sterling, this lady is filing a report against you for assault.” “I did it. I hit her,” I admitted outright. “But…” I paused, pulling out my phone. “…it was with provocation. She defamed me and tried to seduce my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend now. That’s why I reacted.” I pressed play, and Ashley’s voice from the VIP room echoed through the station. “She claims I went to a ‘socialite boot camp.’ Unless she can present solid proof, I will be suing her for defamation. Sure, I slapped her. At most, I’ll pay a minor fine for a misdemeanor. But as for her swollen face? Who knows how many times she slapped herself to make it look worse for the cops.” “Why don’t we check the venue’s security cameras?” Ashley’s face paled instantly. “No! That’s… that’s not necessary. We’re all friends here.” She tugged at Austin’s sleeve. “Austin, it’s your birthday. It’s all my fault we ended up at the police station.” Austin’s expression softened immediately. “It’s not your fault, Ashley.” He then looked at me coldly. “Chloe, Ashley is being generous enough not to press charges. Let’s just drop this.”

“Drop this?” I sneered at her. “She might want to drop it, but I don’t! Slander and defamation—I’m taking this to court.” “Then what the hell do you want?” Austin snapped. “A 3,000-word written public apology from her!” Ashley’s eyes flared with anger, but with Austin watching, she had to play the victim. She bit her lower lip, trembling. “Austin… I really didn’t know speaking the truth would get me treated like this.” I scoffed. “You better make sure it’s the truth before you open your mouth. You dragged me down in front of him just to get his attention, didn’t you? What, every woman in the world is a gold digger except you?” Her body went rigid. She quickly deflected, “Austin, your girlfriend is just jealous!” Austin grabbed my wrist. “Enough, Chloe! She was just joking. We’re all friends!” He turned to the officer. “Officer, I’m sorry. My girlfriend is just having a tantrum.” Before I could speak, Austin clamped his hand over my mouth. “That’s enough, Chloe. Stop embarrassing me. Fine, I’ll make her apologize to you!” Ashley immediately bowed to me. “I’m sorry, Ms. Sterling. I just have a big mouth. Please don’t be mad. It’s really bad of us to waste public resources over such a small thing.” I couldn’t take her fake, nauseating act anymore. I swung my studded handbag and whacked Austin right in the face. The sharp metal studs left a bright red scratch across his cheek. He went ballistic. “Chloe! Know your limits!” “Shut your mouth, you bastard!” I turned to the officer. “Officer, Ashley Vance intentionally fabricated and spread rumors to damage my reputation and character. Under state law, that constitutes criminal defamation. Am I correct?” Seeing that I knew my rights, the officer nodded. “Yes. Young lady, the demand for a written apology is very reasonable. Miss, you should write it. Defamation can lead to serious legal consequences.” Ashley looked like she wanted to murder me, but she had no choice. I pointed at Austin. “This is between me and Ashley. I have the receipts. If you say one more word, I’ll have my lawyers charge you as an accomplice!” Austin was shaking with rage. “Chloe, you are completely delusional! Don’t you dare come crawling back to me!” “We are broken up, Austin. Who the hell would crawl back to you?” He was speechless. A calculating gleam flashed in Ashley’s eyes before she quickly masked it with tears. Reluctantly, she sat down and wrote the apology. Once it was done, I took the police report and the signed apology, walked out, and slammed my foot on the gas pedal of my car. Since I had returned early, the expensive birthday gift I had bought for Austin was still in my bag. I immediately listed it on eBay, sold it within minutes, and called my friends out for drinks. When they heard I had broken up with Austin, they all laughed. “Chloe, stop playing!” “Everyone knows you treated him like a prince. Last time we said he was a jerk, you almost fought us. Now you’re broken up?” “Give it two days, and you’ll go crawling back to him once you calm down.” I sighed. I couldn’t believe they saw me as some desperate, lovesick girl. “I’m serious this time.” “Well, Austin is hot,” one of my friends shrugged. “Good looks are rare these days. It’s fine if he has an attitude. But if you really dumped him, please tell me you slept with him first. Otherwise, what a waste!” I shuddered at the thought. “Just thinking about him and his ‘childhood bestie’ makes me want to throw up. Sleep with him? I’d rather not catch an STD.” My best friend burst out laughing. After a long night of drinking and two days of rest, I packed up everything Austin had ever given me and threw it in the trash. Finally, I opened my phone. The first thing that popped up on my feed was a cozy picture of Austin and Ashley together on Instagram. Childhood friends, my foot. They hooked up faster than a microwave meal. I was about to block them, but then I stopped. I’d keep them unblocked—for the free entertainment.

After sorting out my personal life, I headed to the Art Exhibition Center. My business trip had been to organize this very art exhibition, specifically to invite the world-renowned painter, Mr. Raymond, to the city. As the chief director of the project, I was overseeing the entire setup. Today was the grand opening, and visitors were already pouring in. I finally let out a breath of relief. But as I turned around, I ran straight into two very familiar, very annoying faces. Ashley was clinging to Austin’s arm, walking toward me. Talk about a small world. I looked Ashley up and down. In just three days, she had completely upgraded her wardrobe. She was covered in designer logos from head to toe, though all those luxury brands couldn’t hide the cheap, manipulative scent rolling off her. Austin stepped up to me, a smug smirk on his face. “What’s the matter, Chloe? Dumped me and couldn’t wait to find another rich guy, so you sneaked into a high-end place like this?” “Can’t you have some self-respect? Do you really have to be a gold digger?” To him, I was just a girl wearing fake designer clothes. He assumed I was here to hunt for a sugar daddy. I chuckled. “To be fair, I couldn’t ‘dig’ anything out of you anyway. With your net worth, buying me a single bag almost gave you a heart attack. Now that you have a new girlfriend, try not to be so cheap.” His face darkened instantly. “So you admit it! You’re just a gold digger. Everyone attending this exhibition today is from high society. Are you trying to bag a billionaire?” Ashley chimed in, her voice dripping with mock pity. “Ms. Sterling, as a fellow woman, you are an embarrassment to our gender. Trying to stage an ‘accidental meeting’ here is just pathetic.” “Now that you’ve lost Austin, you’ll never find a man as good as him. Do you really think these billionaires are stupid? Why would they ever look at a cheap girl like you?” She raised her voice, deliberately drawing the attention of the surrounding crowd. Austin wrapped his arm around her waist, looking down at me. “Chloe, if you don’t want to ruin your reputation even more, get the hell out of here. It won’t look good when security drags you out.” I almost laughed. “And who are you to tell me to leave?” “Based on the fact that we were invited,” Austin sneered, pulling out an elegant invitation card. “Do you even have one of these?” Ashley smirked. “Yeah, do you? This is an exclusive invitation. Hand-written by the eldest daughter of the Harrison family—the richest family in the city. Do you have one?” Hearing this, I remembered. When we were preparing for the exhibition, I had indeed hand-written a few invitations because my assistant was overwhelmed. Later, I got too tired and stopped. I didn’t expect one of those rare hand-written invitations to end up in his hands. It must have been a mistake by the PR department. The crowd began whispering, looking at Austin with admiration. “To receive a hand-written invitation from Ms. Harrison herself… Mr. Carter must be someone truly special.” “If that girl doesn’t have an invitation, security should throw her out. She’s obviously here with bad intentions.” “She thinks she can get away with anything just because she has a pretty face.” Austin glared at me. “Chloe, get lost! This is a high-end art gallery, not a place for trash like you.” “Just wait until the museum director gets here. Let’s see how tough you act then!” Right on cue, Director Jenkins walked over in a hurry. Seeing the crowd gathered, he frowned, and his eyes landed on me. He froze. Ashley immediately pointed at me. “Director Jenkins! This girl is a gold digger who sneaked in to harass the guests. Please have security throw her out so she doesn’t ruin the experience for everyone else!” Others joined in. “Yes! She looks decent, but her morals are trash!” “How did someone like her even get past the door?” “She’s an eyesore!” I scoffed. “Throw me out? You blind fools wouldn’t know class if it hit you in the face.” The crowd gasped in outrage, demanding the guards remove me. But Director Jenkins stepped forward, his voice booming over the chatter. “Silence! Ms. Sterling is the chief director and organizer of this entire exhibition! Without her, none of you would even be standing here looking at Mr. Raymond’s masterpieces!” The gallery fell into a dead silence. Ashley’s eyes widened in shock, and she shrieked, “I wondered why you were so confident, Chloe! You must be sleeping with the Director and Mr. Raymond!” “Wow, Chloe. You must be really busy serving both of them!” Her eyes were filled with pure jealousy and malice. I smiled coldly. “I am busy. But I always have time to slap a bitch.” “SMACK!” An incredibly loud slap echoed through the entire gallery. Ashley’s scream pierced the air!

Before she could even start cursing, I swung my hand back and delivered another brutal slap. Both of her cheeks instantly turned a violent red. Austin tried to lung at me, but the security guards tackled him to the ground immediately. I pulled out a silk handkerchief, calmly wiping my hands as I looked around the room. My voice was ice-cold. “You people really never learn, do you?” “Ashley, the last time you slandered me, the police made you write a 3,000-word apology. Yet, here you are again. Let me educate you on the law. If someone repeatedly and intentionally defames another person, the court doesn’t allow out-of-court settlements. You’ll be facing real jail time. Still want to keep talking?” Ashley trembled, her mouth hanging open but no words coming out. Director Jenkins was furious. “I have worked for the Harrison Group my entire life, and I have never been so insulted!” “I will not let this slide. You, and you—for accusing me of having an affair with Ms. Sterling, my lawyers will be contacting you. Security, drag them out!” The guards immediately grabbed Austin and Ashley, dragging them toward the exit. Austin screamed like a wild animal. “Chloe! You bitch! How dare you lay a hand on her! Just you wait!” I scoffed. “Wait? You aren’t even worth my time.” I turned back to the guests who had joined in on the insults. “As for the rest of you, I’ve memorized your faces. The Harrison Group’s legal team will be sending you letters shortly.” “And anyone who spoke ill of me today—your companies will never, ever partner with the Harrison Group again.” The crowd gasped, utterly terrified. I nodded to Director Jenkins and turned to leave. Behind me, whispers broke out: “Who is she? How can she be so powerful?” “What is her relationship with the Harrison Group?” “Wait… she looks familiar. Isn’t she the heiress of the Harrison Group?” “But her last name is Sterling!” “You idiot, she took her mother’s maiden name! Helena Sterling!” The regrets and groans behind me were satisfying, but it was already too late. Once outside, Austin and Ashley were nowhere to be seen. I smiled coldly. This was far from over. Later that evening, Mr. Raymond sent me a text asking if I was alright. He had heard about the incident. I apologized profusely and assured him everything was under control. I couldn’t believe those two idiots had brought their drama in front of him. And of course, Ashley wasn’t done. The next day, she tried to start a smear campaign against me on TikTok. She posted a video of herself crying to the camera, claiming she was a victim of bullying. She even hinted that I was a home-wrecker. “I was at the New World Art Center, and I experienced the most humiliating moment of my life. I simply pointed out her true colors, and she had me assaulted and thrown out!” “As a woman, I’ve always believed in female empowerment. I only advised her not to be a gold digger. But what did she do? She seduced my boyfriend, and when I confronted her, she beat me!” “We are both women, yet your actions are an embarrassment to our entire gender!” Using the banner of “female empowerment,” she whipped up a massive wave of outrage online. She painted me as a gold-digger who went to a socialite boot camp, a girl wearing fake luxury items who specifically targeted wealthy men. With Austin backing her up and posting old photos of “their beautiful memories,” the video went viral. They leaked my name, and within hours, my social media was flooded with hate. However, they hadn’t managed to dig up my real identity. To the internet, I was just a nameless high-class escort. I compiled all the screenshots and handed them straight to my family’s lawyers. When my parents saw the news, they were furious. They demanded to handle it, but I told them I wanted to settle this myself. First, I had Ashley’s TikTok account permanently banned. Then, I pulled every single corporate contract and partnership Austin’s company had with the Harrison Group.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456536”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My mother was a liar. When I was eight years old, she told me she was going to the big city to work. She said she was going to save up for my college tuition and would come back once I graduated. “Chloe, sweetheart, you have to be a good girl for Grandma.” I clutched the hem of her jacket, tears streaming down my face. “Mom, please don’t go.” She wiped my tears away. “Don’t be silly. Mom will buy you sweet taffy and pretty floral dresses. Just be good, and I’ll be back before you know it.” Grandma stood at the doorway, wiping her eyes with her apron. But after my mother left, she never came back. There was no sweet taffy, and there were no pretty floral dresses. The only proof that she was still alive was the meager allowance wired to Grandma’s savings account every month. Grandma always said, “Your mother is having a hard time. She’s suffering out there in the city to support us. Don’t resent her.” I didn’t resent her. I just missed her so much. Ten years flew by. I was eighteen, a senior in high school. Grandma was getting old. Her back was bent like the old weeping willow at the edge of our driveway, and her steps were shaky. She would often sit on the porch, staring down the road that led out of our small town, her cloudy eyes filled with endless yearning. “Your mom… she should be coming home soon, right?” She would mutter to herself, sometimes asking me, sometimes asking the wind. I would lay down my study guides, walk over, and gently massage her shoulders. “Yeah. She’ll be back soon.” I whispered the reply, but my heart felt like it was pressed under a cold, waterlogged stone. Ten years. She hadn’t returned even once. Her phone calls had grown fewer and farther between. It went from once a month, to once every three months, and finally, to just a brief call on my birthday every year. “Happy birthday, Chloe. Study hard.” The background noise was always deafening—sometimes sounding like a noisy construction site, other times like a roaring factory assembly line. Her voice was always exhausted, raspy, and heavy with fatigue. She would hang up after just a few hurried sentences. I once asked her, “Mom, when are you coming home?” She would always give a vague answer. “Soon. Just after this busy season… Do you have enough money? Tell me if you need more…” Then came the notification sound of the bank transfer. She seemed to believe that money could make up for everything. Grandma’s health got worse and worse. She coughed violently and could never sleep peacefully at night. I begged her to go to the hospital, but she always shook her head. “It’s just an old ache. Why waste money on that? Your mother works so hard for every dollar…” Every penny she saved went into buying my SAT prep books, fresh groceries, and a warm winter coat. Yet, she herself still wore the old clothes my mother had left behind ten years ago, patching them up over and over again. Under the dim light, I watched Grandma hunching over, using her rough, calloused hands to stitch a tear in my school hoodie. Her fingers looked as dry and cracked as tree bark. My heart ached terribly. I had torn that hoodie earlier that day while helping our neighbor, Mrs. Gable, unload heavy grocery crates. Mrs. Gable had slipped me two warm, homemade blueberry muffins and whispered, “Chloe, don’t push yourself too hard. Your grandma… is relying on you.” I knew. I knew better than anyone. I had been holding this house together for a long time. The money my mother sent was never enough. I spent my weekends working at the local diner, and my summers picking berries on the farm. My hands were covered in layers of calluses. But I never told my mother any of this. She already sounded so tired over the phone. Three months before my final exams, Grandma collapsed. She was coughing up blood. The local clinic doctor looked grim and told me to get her to the county hospital immediately. I was terrified and completely lost. For the first time in my life, I initiated a call to my mother. The phone rang for a long time before someone picked up. The background was loud, filled with the roar of heavy machinery. “Hello? Chloe?” My mother’s voice was breathless, as if she was running. “Mom… Grandma is coughing up blood…” I sobbed into the receiver. There was a sudden silence on the other end, followed by even heavier breathing. “Coughing up blood? Is it bad? Have you seen a doctor?” “The clinic doctor said we need to go to the county hospital… Mom, I’m so scared…” I couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst into tears. My mother’s voice instantly shot up, filled with a panic and sharpness I had never heard before. “Don’t be scared! Chloe, listen to me! Get Grandma to the county hospital right now! I… I’ll wire you the money immediately! Find the best doctor! Use the best medicine! If it’s not enough, just tell me! We have to save her!” She spoke so fast she was almost incoherent. Before I could say anything else, she hung up. A few minutes later, my phone pinged. A massive wire transfer had arrived—far exceeding any amount she had sent in the past ten years.

I froze. A tiny, dark doubt began to creep into my mind. What kind of job could allow her to pull out so much cash in an instant? But Grandma’s condition didn’t give me time to think. I asked Mrs. Gable to watch the house, hired a local driver, and rushed Grandma to the county hospital that very night. Tests, admission, medical bills. The money my mother sent flowed out like water. The doctor said it was severe physical exhaustion, a critical lung infection, and other complications. She needed long-term care and rest. I stayed by Grandma’s bedside, looking at her thin, pale face. Holding her hand, I whispered over and over, “Grandma, you’re going to get better. Mom sent the money. We’re using the best medicine…” Grandma opened her hazy eyes weakly, her voice barely a whisper. “Don’t… don’t tell your mother… don’t make her worry… She has it so hard…” My tears fell onto the back of her hand. Even at a time like this, the only person she cared about was the daughter who hadn’t returned in ten years. Grandma’s condition fluctuated, and she ended up staying in the hospital for over a month. My mother wired money several more times, each amount larger than the last. Whenever I called to update her on Grandma’s health, she would answer in a rush. The background was always a chaotic mess of noise. She would ask a few quick questions, tell me to “use the best medicine” and “don’t save on expenses,” and then hang up. She didn’t even ask how my studies were going. It was as if she believed money could solve everything. A week before my final exams, Grandma’s condition finally stabilized, and she was cleared to recover at home. I brought her back, settled her in, and then locked myself in my room, studying like crazy. I had to get into college. I had to get out of this town. I had to… find my mother myself and get some answers. The day of my final exams, the weather was beautiful. Walking out of the exam room, I felt like I had just survived a brutal battle. When I got home, Grandma was in high spirits and had made me a bowl of pasta. “My Chloe is definitely going to pass,” she smiled, her wrinkles blooming like warm autumn flowers. As I ate the pasta, my heart felt both sweet and incredibly heavy. When it came time to submit my college choices, I didn’t hesitate. Every single college I applied to was in the city my mother’s money orders came from—New York. Based on the blurry address on the wire receipts, that massive, unfamiliar metropolis was my only lead. When the acceptance letters came, I got a full scholarship offer from a top university in New York. Grandma laughed and cried at the same time, clutching my hands. “Good, good… You’ll finally get to see your mother… Tell her not to work so hard. Tell her we are doing just fine at home…” I hugged the acceptance letter, a storm of emotions raging inside me. The night before I left for New York, I was packing my bags. Grandma fumbled around and pulled out a thick cloth pouch. She unwrapped it layer by layer to reveal a stack of crumpled bills—mostly fives, ones, and a handful of quarters. “Take this. The city is expensive… Don’t starve yourself…” She shoved the money into my hand. It was warm with the heat of her palm. I knew this was money she had saved dollar by dollar, quarter by quarter. It felt a thousand times heavier than the massive transfers my mother had sent. My nose stung. I tried to push it back. “Grandma, I have money. Mom sent plenty…” “That’s your mother’s hard-earned money. It’s different… This is from me…” she insisted, her thin, frail hand surprisingly strong. In the end, I took the pouch, but I secretly slid it back under her pillow before I left. The next day, I boarded the Greyhound bus to New York. I watched the farmlands, small towns, and mountains fade away outside the window. I was moving further from the only home I knew, and closer to the mother who lived in a web of lies. I was excited, but I was also terrified. Excited to see her. Terrified that she wouldn’t be the mother I had imagined. New York was massive and overwhelming. The towering skyscrapers and endless traffic made my head spin. Following the blurry address on the wire receipts, I eventually found an old, gritty industrial area. The address pointed to a run-down walk-up apartment building. The stairwell was dark, cluttered with trash, and smelled heavily of mold. I knocked on the rusted iron door. My heart was pounding against my ribs. The door creaked open.

A woman with messy hair, wearing a cheap bathrobe and holding a half-burnt cigarette, poked her head out. She looked at me with annoyance. “Who are you looking for?” I stared at her, frozen. It wasn’t my mother. My heart sank. “Is Sarah living here?” I asked, using my mother’s name. The woman sized me up, her eyes filled with suspicion and judgment. “Sarah? She moved out ages ago! Left without paying months of rent! What are you to her?” She ran away? Left unpaid rent? My brain went completely numb. “Do… do you know where she went?” “How should I know?” The woman blew a cloud of smoke and scoffed. “She didn’t look like she had any money anyway. Working multiple jobs just to act rich. I heard she was trying to put a daughter through college or something.” I couldn’t hear a single word after that. “Multiple jobs,” “acting rich,” “putting a daughter through college”… Those words pierced my ears like sharp needles. What kind of life was my mother actually living? Wasn’t she constantly sending us huge sums of money? How could she have fled from unpaid rent? Where on earth was she? Standing on that unfamiliar street, watching the crowd rush past, I felt utterly lost and helpless for the first time in my life. My mother was gone. In a city of millions, I had lost my only lead. I had no choice but to report to my university first. I started my college life just like any other freshman. Except, there was a heavy boulder weighing down on my chest every single day. I used all my spare time to work. Tutoring, handing out flyers, waiting tables at restaurants. I wanted to earn my own living. I couldn’t take my mother’s money anymore. Not that she had sent any more transfers anyway. I even began to question how she had made those massive sums of money in the first place. But I was too afraid to dig deeper into that thought. Occasionally, I would call Grandma. She would always ask, “Did you see your mother? How is she? Did she gain some weight, or is she skinnier?” Holding the phone, my throat would tighten, and I could only lie. “Yes… I saw her. She’s great… Just very busy with work… She’ll come back with me during the holidays…” The moment I hung up, my tears would fall uncontrollably. “Mom, where are you?” Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. I gradually adjusted to city life and made some new friends. But I never stopped looking for her. I visited job centers, asked employment agencies, and even kept an eye on missing person flyers on the streets. Nothing. She had vanished like a drop of water in the ocean. One weekend during the spring semester, I was working at a high-end restaurant in Manhattan. It was an expensive place, filled with wealthy, well-dressed people. I was carrying a heavy tray, carefully navigating through the tables. And then, I saw her. She was sitting by the window. She wore an elegant emerald green velvet dress, her hair pinned up beautifully, her makeup flawless. She was laughing softly, talking to a distinguished-looking middle-aged man in a tailored suit. The profile of her face was so gentle, so painfully familiar. It felt like a lightning strike. The tray in my hands nearly crashed to the floor. “Mom?” “Is that my mother?” The mother in my memory wore washed-out clothes, had dry, rough skin, and carried an air of permanent exhaustion. The mother who hadn’t come home in ten years because she was supposedly “suffering to make ends meet”? How could this be… She looked so elegant, so poised, as if she had belonged to this wealthy world her entire life. The man sitting with her looked rich and influential. The intimacy between them didn’t look like a casual friendship. A horrible, poisonous thought crawled into my mind. She had lied to Grandma.

She had lied to me. She had lied to everyone. She wasn’t working hard or suffering at all. She was… with a rich man? Living a life of luxury? Is that why she hadn’t come home for ten years? Is that why she neglected us, throwing money at us just to keep us quiet? Those massive wire transfers… were they all from this man? No wonder… No wonder she could suddenly send so much cash… A wave of intense anger and the agonizing sting of betrayal washed over me. Blood rushed to my head, and my vision went dark. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. I couldn’t go over there. I couldn’t tear open this ugly truth in a place like this. Stiffening my back, I turned around and practically fled to the kitchen. “What’s wrong? You look pale,” the manager asked with concern. I shook my head, my voice trembling. “I’m… I’m fine. Just felt a bit dizzy.” I asked to leave early. Stepping out of the restaurant, the afternoon sun was blindingly bright, but I felt freezing cold. I walked down the street like a ghost, my mind in complete chaos. The image of her in that emerald green velvet dress and the memory of her walking away in her ragged clothes ten years ago clashed violently in my head, suffocating me. “Mom.” “My dear mother.” “So this is the ‘faraway place’ you worked so hard in. This is your ‘suffering.’” “Then what about Grandma and me?” “What were we to you?” “Just some shameful baggage you left in the countryside?” “Did you send money just to ease your guilty conscience?” Tears blurred my vision. I squatted on the busy sidewalk, buried my face in my knees, and sobbed silently. I didn’t confront her right away. Instead, like a pathetic detective, I started tracking her. I found out the places she frequented: that restaurant, an upscale art gallery, a high-end yoga studio. And… that man’s house, a beautiful, multi-million-dollar brownstone in the heart of the city. She was living a wonderful life. A thousand times, ten thousand times better than mine. She would hold his arm, walking in and out of luxury establishments with a graceful smile on her face. She looked so happy. It was blindingly painful to watch. Every time I followed her, it felt like a slow execution of my heart. My longing for her slowly distorted into hatred and resentment. “Why?” “Why did you abandon us?” “Why did you lie to us?” If you were living such a great life, why didn’t you visit Grandma even once? Grandma missed you so much! If you had so much money, why did you always act so exhausted over the phone? Was it guilt? Or shame? Or did you think we weren’t worthy of being part of your glamorous new life? Countless questions swirled in my head, tightening like a noose until I could barely breathe. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. One evening, I watched her get out of the man’s car and walk alone into a nearby park. Taking a deep breath, I followed her. The park was quiet, the setting sun casting long shadows on the grass. She sat down on a bench, watching some children playing in the distance. In the twilight, her face looked soft, but also… incredibly lonely. I stepped closer, my heart beating so hard it felt like it would burst out of my chest. I stopped right in front of her. Sensing someone’s presence, she looked up. The moment her eyes met mine, her expression froze. Surprise, panic, disbelief, and a trace of… sheer terror? She stood up abruptly, her lips trembling. “Ch… Chloe? Why are you here?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456535”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I found a Chanel bag left in the breakroom. Being nice, I snapped a quick photo and sent it to the company group chat on Snapchat: “Whose bag is this? I left it at the front desk.” The owner replied in literally two seconds: “Did you go through my bag?! Are you freaking starving for cash? You got caught trying to steal from me, and now you’re acting like a Good Samaritan?” “We need to fire this thief immediately. Our company shouldn’t be keeping parasites!” Forty people in the Snapchat group. Not a single person said a word. I looked at my desk and smiled. My family literally owns this entire conglomerate. I only took this job for the work experience. Since someone is begging for a reality check, I guess I’ll play along. My keyboard clacked rapidly as rows of numbers filled the spreadsheet. A salary of $2,500 a month, barely $2,000 after taxes. That wouldn’t even cover half a tank of gas for my Maybach. My phone on the desk was vibrating like crazy. Brooke Davis was typing like her hands were on fire, spamming the Snapchat group with text after text, every single one loaded with exclamation marks. I could feel the sheer malice radiating through the screen. “Chloe Miller, did you lose your tongue? Too scared to admit you’re a thief?” “Everyone, watch your wallets. This girl has a history of sticky fingers!” “If you’re this broke, don’t come to an office. Go back to your trailer park!” “My bag costs $5,000. That’s more than you make in two months. Jealous much?” I glanced at the screen, my fingers never leaving the keyboard. Jealous of a $5,000 bag? If I picked any random clutch from my walk-in closet at home, it would be enough to buy every single bag in this office. But I didn’t say anything. Not because I was holding back, but because I just couldn’t be bothered. I kept working on my spreadsheet, my fingers moving even faster. Numbers don’t talk back, and they don’t lie. They are a million times more pleasant than Brooke. Finally, someone else in the group chat chimed in. Carter from Marketing added: “No wonder I lost a hundred-dollar bill last week. Don’t tell me it was…” He left the sentence hanging, but the implication was loud and clear. It was a perfect piece of low-key slander, throwing dirt at me while leaving himself an escape route. Vanessa from Finance jumped in even faster, her typing speed matching her accounting skills: “I mean, she only carries those cheap canvas tote bags. Of course she’d lose her mind when she saw a Chanel. I wouldn’t even dare to touch one at the mall, but some people just help themselves.” The new intern, Hailey, probably trying to suck up to the older employees, added: “People from that kind of background just have no morals.” I counted. Six people had spoken up. Three of them had personally received help from my dad’s company. Vanessa’s kid was extremely sick last year, and the Miller Corporate Foundation approved a $10,000 emergency medical grant. She had literally cried and begged at the foundation’s office door, her sobbing echoing through the entire floor. Carter’s younger brother was currently working at Miller Logistics. My dad had personally bypassed the HR screening to slide him in. And Hailey? Her dad was the security chief at one of the Miller-owned shopping centers. Last year, I was the one who signed off on his double-month holiday bonus. Six people. Six ungrateful parasites. I let go of my mouse, leaned back in my chair, and stared at the ceiling for three seconds. There were over forty people in that chat. Not a single one stood up for me. Not even a simple “Maybe we should check the security cameras first.” Well, this is human nature. I’ve seen it all. My dad has been in the business world for thirty years. I grew up listening to his dinner-table stories about how quickly people turn on you. My ears practically had calluses from those tales. But seeing it play out in real life was still pretty entertaining. It was like watching a documentary on wild animals.

At two in the afternoon, I walked into the breakroom with my coffee cup. As soon as I pushed the door open, I saw Brooke standing there. She had her two loyal minions with her, arms crossed, completely blocking the exit. “Chloe Miller!” she yelled, her voice piercing enough to wake the dead. “This isn’t over! I’ve already called the cops! You’re going to jail! A $5,000 bag is grand larceny, honey. Enjoy prison!” I opened my thermos, took a slow sip of my coffee, and looked at her calmly. Her makeup was flawless—Chanel lipstick, Dior foundation, all luxury brands. A standard administrative supervisor making maybe $5,000 a month, yet she was wearing over $10,000 worth of luxury goods. I had never paid attention to those details before. Now, I did. “You called the cops?” I set my thermos down. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for everyone outside the door to hear. “Perfect. Let’s have them pull the security footage and see who’s actually lying.” She clearly hadn’t expected that reaction. Usually, when innocent people are accused, they cry, scream, or beg. She had probably prepared a whole script to counter my tears. But I wasn’t playing by her rules. She froze for a split second, then her voice went an octave higher, so loud I felt the coffee cups on the counter vibrate. “Are you still trying to play dumb?! I’ve seen plenty of trailer trash like you! You see luxury and you can’t help yourself! You thief! Have you no shame?!” I laughed. Not a cold sneer, but a genuine laugh. “Brooke,” I tilted my head, looking at her with genuine curiosity. “You do realize this is Miller Enterprises, right?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. “Like I give a crap! It’s not like you own it! If you were actually the Miller heiress, then I’d be the CEO’s wife!” “Right. You’re absolutely right,” I said, picking up my coffee and turning around. “Like you give a crap.” Behind me, she exploded into a storm of curses. Some of the slang was so creative I hadn’t even heard it before. She definitely had a colorful life background. I didn’t bother listening. As I stepped out of the breakroom, several colleagues were standing in the hallway, pretending to make phone calls or grab water, but their ears were practically twitching. The moment they saw me, they quickly averted their eyes. I walked past them, catching a whiff of cheap perfume. Back at my desk, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my dad on Snapchat: “I heard you’re having some trouble at the office?” The message was sent five minutes ago. The building management must have tipped him off. This entire skyscraper was crawled with my dad’s eyes and ears—the janitors, the security guards, the receptionist, they all worked for him. I typed back: “Just a minor issue. I’m handling it.” “Don’t let them push you around. Our family doesn’t need to put up with that garbage.” “I know.” After sending that, I added another text: “Dad, have you looked into Brooke Davis?”

The screen went quiet for about thirty seconds. Then Dad replied: “Just did. Quite interesting. Let’s talk at home tonight.” I stared at the words “Quite interesting” for five seconds. Whenever my dad said something was “interesting,” it meant things were about to get messy. At five-thirty, I packed up my things to head home. I shut down my computer, washed my mug, and locked my drawers. I had been doing this routine for three months, and it was pure muscle memory now. A few colleagues were standing by the elevators. When they saw me approaching, they quickly took a step back, as if I carried some kind of plague. I pressed the button for B2. One of them, a girl named Sarah, smirked. “B2 is reserved for executive parking. Did you press the wrong button?” I didn’t answer. Right before the elevator doors slid shut, I heard Sarah whisper to the person next to her, “Is she trying to sneak down there to steal something from the nice cars? Only the executives park on B2.” Then came a chorus of hushed snickers. The doors closed. I leaned against the elevator wall, watching the numbers tick down. B2. The doors slid open. The underground parking garage was dimly lit, smelling of concrete and exhaust fumes. My black Maybach sat quietly in its reserved spot, the license plate bearing my birthday. My chauffeur, George, was already standing by the door in his sharp suit and white gloves. He smiled when he saw me. “Rough day, Miss Miller?” “Got called a thief all afternoon. What do you think?” I climbed into the back, the premium leather seats instantly making me feel at ease. “Who had the nerve? Should I inform your father?” “No need. Just take me home.” George closed the door, walked around to the driver’s seat, and started the engine. The Maybach glided silently out of the parking space and up the ramp. As we cleared the garage, the evening sun flooded the car, forcing me to squint. I dialed my dad’s number. “Dad, is everything set for tomorrow?” My dad’s deep, calm voice came through the speaker with a hint of amusement. “Everything is set. HR, legal, and security are fully coordinated. Tomorrow morning at eight-thirty sharp, the hammer drops.” “And,” I paused, “what did you find out about Brooke?” The line went quiet for a beat. “Apex Corp,” my dad’s voice turned cold, losing its warmth. “Three months before Brooke joined our company, someone from Apex took her out to a very expensive dinner. Shortly after, a hundred thousand dollars was wired to her account.” My fingers tightened, my nails digging into my palm. “A hundred thousand?” “Yes. Wired in two transactions, labeled as ‘consulting fees.’ She’s an admin supervisor. What could she possibly consult on? It was a blatant bribe.” I leaned my head back, staring out the sunroof. Outside, the downtown skyline was gray and overcast. “So today wasn’t just a random tantrum?”

“It was completely premeditated,” Dad’s voice was as cold as marble. “When you picked up that bag, she was watching from around the corner. She left it there on purpose. She stood in the hallway for three minutes waiting for you to go in before she walked away.” Outside, the traffic was heavy. I stared at the red brake lights of the car ahead of us. “How far are they planning to take this?” “Apex promised Brooke half a million dollars, split into four payments. She got the first hundred grand. The rest is contingent on her completely ruining your reputation. Ideally, she wants to force you to quit after making a massive scene, and then take the whole thing viral online.” “Viral?” “Yes. They want to paint a story about the ‘spoiled Miller heiress abusing common workers’ to get it trending. They’ve already lined up several trashy gossip accounts, just waiting for you to snap. The moment you argue back or hit her, they will edit the video to make you look like the villain. I bet they already have the headline written: “Billionaire Heiress Crushes Working-Class Employee Because of Her Family’s Wealth”.” I closed my eyes. What a brilliant plan. If I didn’t fight back, Brooke would brand me a thief. If I did fight back, Apex would drag my family’s name through the mud online. They thought they had me in a corner. “Half a million dollars,” I repeated. “Just to ruin me?” “Just to ruin you,” Dad said. “Because you are my daughter.” I rolled the window down an inch. The cool autumn wind rushed in, blowing my hair across my face. “Dad, why is Apex trying so hard to destroy us?” “They want to force us to sell.” My dad’s voice was flat, as if he were reading a financial report. “Miller Enterprises owns three prime development projects right in the heart of downtown. Apex wanted to build a luxury complex there, but they couldn’t get the land. They tried to buy us out, and I rejected them. Then they sent brokers to negotiate a hostile takeover, and I laughed them out of my office.” “So they want to tank our stock price by ruining our family reputation, forcing us to sell cheap?” “Smart girl.” Dad sounded proud. “The business world is much dirtier than you think, Chloe. They don’t actually need to hurt you physically. They just need to make the public hate us. If our reputation goes down, banks will tighten our credit, partners will back out, and our stock will plunge. That’s when they’ll swoop in and buy us out for pennies.” I rolled the window back up, shutting out the city noise. “So, tomorrow…” “We go ahead as planned,” Dad said, a smirk in his voice. “If Apex wants to play dirty, we’ll show them how it’s done. Our family has plenty of money and time. They can’t afford a war of attrition. We can.” “And Chloe,” Dad added, “when you get to the office tomorrow, don’t explain anything. Let them scream. Let them make the biggest scene possible.” I smiled. “I get it, Dad. Get some rest.” “You too. Lily missed you today. She said her mommy hasn’t colored with her in days.” My chest tightened.

Lily, my three-year-old daughter. Every morning when I left, she was still asleep, and by the time I got home, she was already in bed. For three straight days, the only interaction I had with her was a quick kiss on her forehead before I walked out the door. “I’ll be home early tomorrow, I promise,” I said, my voice a little thick. “Don’t push yourself too hard. She needs her mom.” “I know.” After hanging up, I leaned back and closed my eyes. By the time I reached home, Lily was already asleep. The nanny told me she had waited up for two hours, holding her coloring book on the couch until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She insisted on waiting for mommy to color the cat with her. I walked softly into her room, watching her sleep with her tiny fist still clutching a crayon. A bit of drool was on her cheek. Her coloring book was lying by her pillow. On the open page, there was a horribly lopsided drawing of a cat, with two words scribbled next to it: “Mommy Cat”. I sat by her bed for five minutes. Then, my phone buzzed again. Brooke was still posting in the Snapchat group, like she was on some kind of upper. “Chloe Miller, you better not show your face tomorrow! If you do, I’ll personally throw you out! This company doesn’t tolerate thieves!” I didn’t reply. I locked my phone, climbed into bed, and closed my eyes. Tomorrow was going to be fun. The next morning at eight-thirty, I was sitting in the Starbucks right below our office building, sipping a latte while watching the security feed on my phone. The Starbucks was owned by a subsidiary of our company. The manager knew me, so he always gave me an extra shot of espresso for free. On the screen, Audrey, our HR Director, was walking through the front lobby with two corporate lawyers, right on time. Upstairs, Marcus, our department manager, was probably sipping his morning tea, thinking about what to get for lunch, when his office door was thrown open. “Come in,” Marcus’s voice carried through the microphone, sounding full of himself. Audrey walked in and dropped a folder onto his desk. “Marcus, this is to inform you that effective immediately, Brooke Davis is terminated. This is a direct order from corporate, signed by Mr. Miller himself.” On screen, Marcus jumped up so fast he knocked his tea over, soaking a stack of files. “What?! Terminated?!” Marcus’s chair banged against the cabinet behind him. “What did she even do?” Audrey pointed at the paperwork, her face completely expressionless. “She committed a severe breach of company policy during her contract—specifically, malicious harassment and defamation of a colleague, causing severe reputational damage to the company. It’s in black and white, right there in the employee handbook she signed.” She pulled a second document from her briefcase. “Additionally, the Legal Department has officially filed a lawsuit against Brooke Davis on behalf of Chloe Miller. This is a copy of the legal notice. Hand it to her when she arrives.” Marcus’s face turned white as a sheet, sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Chloe Miller? She’s just a entry-level clerk. How does she have the corporate Legal Department fighting her battles?!” Audrey leaned in, lowering her voice. “Marcus, let me give you a heads-up. Chloe Miller is the only daughter of Arthur Miller. Our CEO. He personally called me about this. You might want to tread very carefully.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456534”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My boyfriend had a massive inferiority complex. Every time I tried to initiate things in bed, he rejected me. When I finally reached my limit and was ready to agree to an arranged marriage with someone else, I found his diary. “Vivian’s stepsister told me that since I’m a virgin, I’ll be terrible in bed. She said Vivian won’t like me.” “But do I really have to go sleep with other women to get experience? It feels so disgusting.” The last entry was written in a messy, hurried scrawl. “I don’t want Vivian to have a bad experience. I’m going to find someone to practice with.” I was so angry that I shoved him onto the bed, straddled his waist, and said to him, word by word. “The most important thing for a man is to keep himself clean, got it?” His hands hesitated on my waist, but in the end, he pushed me away, his voice hoarse and muffled. “Not yet.” I was completely out of options. I turned around and texted my arranged marriage match. “I hate dirty men. Are you clean? If you are, we’re getting engaged immediately.”

I closed the diary. I looked up at the man standing not far away. Julian, who usually never talked to other girls, had actually turned his head to talk to the girl next to him. Even though his expression was cold, every time she spoke, he replied. I almost laughed out of sheer anger. So, the only reason Julian Sterling had rejected me so many times was because my stepsister, Tessa, told him he was inexperienced? And he actually planned to find another woman to practice with? I took a deep breath and decided to go talk to him. To be honest, I was very satisfied with Julian in every other aspect. He was gorgeous, had a great body, came from a prestigious family, and was always attentive. My family had originally scouted an arranged marriage partner for me, but because of Julian, I had repeatedly refused to meet that guy. My parents figured that since the Sterling family was also incredibly powerful, they let me have my free will in dating. But I was at the age where marriage was on the table. Julian kept refusing to take the final step with me. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had some medical issue or some deep-seated psychological trauma. But he never talked to me about it. Just when I was about to give up on him, I found this diary. It was fine. This was still salvageable! So what if he was inexperienced? I would teach him myself. Having him shaped by my own hands was exactly what I wanted. I walked over to Julian. He lifted his dark eyes. His fingers twitched slightly before he took my hand and pulled me down to sit beside him. I glanced at the girl next to him. She smiled at me. “What are you guys talking about?” I asked. The girl grinned. “It’s a secret~ You should ask Julian. See if he’s willing to tell you.” I looked at Julian. He said, “Nothing.” Then, he gripped my hand tighter and pulled me even closer to his side. Smelling the faint scent of cedarwood on him, my anger softened slightly. I whispered, “I need to talk to you.” Hearing this, Julian pulled me over to a quieter corner. He was breathtakingly handsome, with a high nose bridge. When he looked down at me, his dark eyes were completely focused and sincere. My aching, angry heart softened even more. I chose my words carefully. “Tessa came back for her break recently. She hasn’t been bothering you, has she?” Julian replied, “No.” I frowned. While I was lost in thought, he rested his chin on my shoulder. Julian whispered, “I love you.” I sighed. “I love you too.” Under the light, I could see the tips of his ears turning red again. Every time we got a little intimate, he would react this way. I stared at him for a long moment. My negative emotions evaporated, and I teased him just like I used to. “Why are you blushing again, babe?” Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He locked his fingers with mine. Whatever, I thought helplessly. I just wouldn’t bring Julian to any family dinners in the future. As long as he and Tessa didn’t meet, his mind couldn’t be poisoned by her, right?

But the very next day. I saw an unexpected figure right next to Julian. He and Tessa were standing together, whispering about something. I didn’t expect them to meet in private. Tessa was smiling, her eyes crinkled, seemingly teasing him. I had clearly told Julian before that I despised my stepsister. She had loved stealing my things since we were kids. But Julian had always been extremely cold to her in the past, making her look foolish multiple times, so I had let my guard down. I stayed silent, quietly taking a few steps closer to them. I heard their voices. Tessa laughed, her tone confident. “You’ll definitely give her a terrible experience, and you’ll completely ruin your perfect image in her mind.” “…” “I know Vivian. She will definitely find you pathetic,” Tessa paused for a moment. “She might even dump you on the spot.” Julian’s tall frame leaned against the wall. He kept his head down, so I couldn’t see his face. “Julian,” Tessa looked at him. “You don’t even know how to talk dirty to Vivian, do you? Ugh, you have zero game. I don’t even know how she’s tolerated you for this long.” Julian still didn’t speak. Tessa said casually, “Vivian must have complained about your kissing skills, right?” His fingers twitched. After a long silence, Julian lifted his head, his voice slightly raspy. “Then what should I do?” “It’s simple,” Tessa said. “Didn’t you get along great with my friend Chloe last night? Keep practicing with her.” My temples throbbed with rage. After what felt like forever. Julian said, “Okay.” “Oh, by the way,” Tessa sighed. “Make sure to keep this from Vivian. Otherwise, our plan is ruined… and more importantly, your relationship with her will be over.” Julian turned to leave, his tone returning to his usual coldness. “I know.”

I sat on the couch, waiting for him. The moment Julian pushed the door open, he saw me. He froze for a second, then sat down next to me. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” My face was expressionless. “Where were you? Who did you meet today?” He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. His voice was steady. “I went back to my parents’ house. My grandfather’s birthday is coming up, so I went back to discuss the party with my parents.” “That’s it?” “That’s it.” He gently hooked his pinky finger with mine, seemingly confused as to why I was asking. I leaned in close to him. Close enough to feel each other’s breath. Under the dim, warm light, Julian’s eyelashes fluttered. He stared straight at me, his ears flushing red again. “Vivian.” I sniffed the air, making my point clear. “The perfume on you smells exactly like Tessa’s.” He knitted his brows, looking genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” Then he added, “Maybe I just brushed past someone.” I looked at him, slowly clenching my fists. When we did anything slightly intimate, he got so nervous his ears turned red. Yet now, when he was lying straight to my face, his heart rate didn’t even skip a beat. I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved him down onto the couch right then and there. “Let’s do it,” I said flatly. As I spoke, I reached to unbutton his shirt. Julian caught my hands. Just like every other time, we ended up in a tense stalemate. My throat felt dry. “Do you not love me?” “How is that possible?” He answered instantly, then pursed his lips. After a long silence, he finally said, “Vivian, I love you. Only you.” I accused him. “If you love me, why won’t you sleep with me?” Julian tightened his grip on my wrists, refusing to let go. I took a deep breath. “What, are you planning on sleeping with another woman…” “No,” he cut me off. Julian whispered, “Don’t accuse me of that, Vivian.” I looked him dead in the eye, repeating my words slowly. “A man’s best quality is his purity, got it?” I thought about it and added, “Everything else can be learned and practiced slowly. I don’t care about that.” His fingers hesitated on my waist. Just when I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I had successfully convinced him. He still pushed me away, his voice muffled and tight. “It’s not time yet.” Julian stood up and walked toward the bathroom with his long strides. “I’m going to shower.” I was pushed to the side, sitting frozen on the couch. I had been rejected by him countless times. For a long time, I had felt so defeated, deeply doubting my own attractiveness. Listening to the sound of the running water from the bathroom, I suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. I picked up Julian’s phone. I unlocked it and found Tessa in his contacts. I didn’t even know when they had added each other on Snapchat. But their chat history was completely blank. He had intentionally deleted it. I stood up and walked out of the apartment.

Julian and I entered a cold war. Well, not exactly. It was just me giving him the cold shoulder. He still sent me messages every day. Since I usually got embarrassed and acted cold to him after he rejected me in the past, he assumed this was just another one of those times. He tried to coax me like he always did. “Vivian, don’t ignore me.” “I miss you so much, baby.” Then he sent me money via PayPal. I didn’t reply. My mind was a chaotic mess. Until one night. I instinctively drove to an upscale lounge that was under Julian’s family’s company. Remembering I still had an expensive bottle of wine stored there. I went in, planning to open it. As I walked in, I saw someone come out of the most exclusive VIP room at the very back. That room was reserved solely for Julian, me, and our close friends. If I wasn’t there, he wouldn’t usually use it. I walked toward it. The staff there all knew me, so nobody stopped me. I gently pushed the door open, leaving a small crack. Inside, the lights were flashing. It was crowded with guys and girls, very lively. And then I saw Julian. He had a girl sitting on either side of him. He was leaning back against the sofa, his long legs crossed, looking completely bored and detached. The girl on his left, Chloe, Tessa’s friend, said something that made the whole room burst into laughter. Julian still had no reaction. He looked completely out of place in that lively room. Until she took a sip of her cocktail, turned to him with a sweet smile, and whispered something. Then, she grabbed Julian by his collar. He didn’t dodge. Instead, he reached out his hand and wiped a trace of alcohol from the corner of her lips. I took a step back. Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder. I whipped my head around and met Tessa’s smug eyes. She paused for a second. “Don’t look at me like I’m your worst enemy, Vivian.” I said nothing. She mocked, “Are you angry?” I let out a cold laugh, cutting straight to the point. “Don’t pretend to be innocent. You think I don’t know you set this up?” Tessa was taken aback for a moment, but then she smiled, her voice dripping with deep sarcasm and disdain. “What does this have to do with me? Deep down, you know the truth. Do you really think I can control the great Julian Sterling’s actions?” She took a step closer to me and whispered. “Why don’t you just go in there and tell him you don’t care if he’s bad in bed? Beg him to sleep with you so he stops hanging out with other girls. Wouldn’t that solve everything?” I turned to leave. Tessa grabbed my arm, enjoying my misery. “Did I hit a nerve? Are you embarrassed now? Vivian, don’t you think you’re pathetic?” In the struggle, I shoved her. She shoved me back. The commotion must have been loud. The VIP room door swung open. A broad-shouldered, tall man stood at the door, looking irritated. Behind him, several curious eyes peeked out. “Vivian?” Julian looked surprised, his cold dark eyes softening instantly. He didn’t ask questions. He grabbed my hand and led me directly up to the private lounge upstairs. The moment the door closed. His long arm wrapped around my waist. He pulled me into his arms, pressing me against his warm chest. Then, he planted a kiss on the corner of my lips. Seeing no reaction from me, he parted his lips to gently tease mine. It was a test, an attempt to seduce. I stood completely still. My eyes fell on the slight wrinkles on his collar, the exact spot where that girl had grabbed him. Was this the result of his “practice” over the past few days? A long silence fell. I reached up and touched his ear. His body temperature was normal. His ears weren’t burning red like they used to. This gesture seemed to encourage him. His cool fingertips slipped under the hem of my shirt. The moment he touched my skin. My phone buzzed with a notification. I took a step back, breaking the embrace, and looked down at my phone. My arranged marriage partner had finally replied to the message I sent him half an hour ago. “You’re that blunt?” “I’m clean.” “Then let’s meet up tomorrow?” Dissatisfied, Julian grabbed my wrist, his eyes landing on my screen. “Who is that?” Before he could read the screen, I locked my phone. “No one.” He frowned, staring at me with an obsessive, possessive intensity. I didn’t wait for him to question me. “I have things to do. I’m leaving.” Julian’s voice trembled slightly. “Did I… not satisfy you just now?” My eyes met his. His dark eyes still reflected only me, so focused, so intense. But I felt like something had changed. We could never go back. I reached out and straightened his messy, slightly wrinkled collar. Then I turned and walked away. Without answering his question.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456533”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Everyone could see the glowing countdown timer above my twin sister Clara’s head. Everyone knew she was destined to die the year she turned eighteen. Because of this, Clara was the absolute center of our universe. The TV remote was always hers. The first bite of any delicious meal was always hers. And our parents’ undivided, suffocating love was entirely hers. I knew it wasn’t her fault. But I couldn’t help the bitter envy that grew inside me. Finally, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Clara made a wish. She wanted to die in a place closest to the sky. So the family planned a trip to Aspen. Everyone went—except me. Before they left, my parents looked at me as I lay in bed, coughing violently. My mother frowned, her voice cold. “Chloe, watch the house. And do not open the door for anyone!” I rasped out, “Mom, please… can you take me to the hospital? My chest hurts so bad…” My mother pursed her lips and sighed. “Chloe, where would we get the money for your hospital bills? Do you have any idea how expensive this trip to Aspen is?” “But my lungs… they burn…” No one answered me. The only response was the heavy thud of the front door locking from the outside.

The agonizing pain suddenly vanished. When I opened my eyes again, the breathtaking, sacred snow-capped mountains of Aspen stretched out before me. My parents were sitting in the first-class cabin of a plane. Premium meals were laid out on the trays in front of them, but every single plate was pushed toward Clara. My mother coaxed her gently, her voice dripping with warmth. “Clara, sweetheart, which one do you want to try first?” My father pushed a glass of fresh juice forward. “Here, Clara. Have a sip to wet your throat first.” Clara looked at the gourmet food and offered a weak, fragile smile. She whispered, “Mom… Dad… did we leave any food for Chloe before we left?” The smiles on my parents’ faces instantly froze. Clara continued softly, “Chloe was so sick. I’m worried she won’t be able to cook for herself. And… she said last week that she was tired of canned soup.” A pang of sadness hit my chest, but no tears fell. “She’ll eat when she gets hungry enough,” my mother answered dismissively. She scooped up a spoonful of creamy pasta and brought it to Clara’s lips. “Come on, Clara, just eat. It breaks my heart to see you starving yourself.” My father chimed in, “You are just too sweet, Clara. Even at a time like this, you’re still worrying about her. But look at her—does she ever think about you? She knew we didn’t have much money, yet she still threw a fit because she couldn’t come with us.” “She didn’t even stop to think about how much time you have left…” My father sighed, cutting himself off. My mother started dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, and Clara had no choice but to stay quiet. But I noticed Clara’s clenched fingers. They betrayed her anxiety. Clara grew up surrounded by the family’s ultimate devotion. Because of that, she was the only one who truly understood how deeply I was neglected. When we were kids, a neighbor brought over two beautiful dresses, saying there was one for each twin. But my mother took both and gave them to Clara. “Our Clara has so little time left. If she doesn’t experience these things now, she’ll never get the chance.” That night, Clara asked me, “Chloe, do you want the dress?” I nodded. Without a word, Clara spilled permanent blue ink all over one of the dresses. With no other choice, my mother had to let me have the ruined one. But when I looked into Clara’s eyes, I knew. She had done it on purpose. Even though I got the dress, Clara wasn’t happy. She kept apologizing to me. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I could only give you the dirty one. I always make you suffer…” We were so young, yet we both understood a cruel truth: only the broken, ruined things would ever be passed down to me. The suppressed resentment kept building inside me until it finally exploded when we were ten. On our tenth birthday, Clara and I went down to play in the backyard of our apartment complex. After just a few minutes, Clara got tired and wanted to go back inside. But I hadn’t had enough. I threw a tantrum, demanding to stay out longer. My mother tried to reason with me, but I refused to listen. I couldn’t understand why absolutely everything had to revolve around Clara. In a fit of rage, I shoved Clara hard, sending her crashing to the ground. I screamed through my tears, “I don’t want to go home! I want to play! If you want to go back, go by yourself! Why do I always have to listen to you? Why?!” I can’t remember what was going through my head back then. Maybe it was a sense of unfairness, or maybe it was just pure jealousy. I screamed and rolled on the grass, crying at the top of my lungs. Like any obnoxious, desperate child, I thought throwing a massive tantrum would get me what I wanted. But my mother didn’t back down. She stared at me, her eyes turning bloodshot. She raised her hand high and slapped me across the face. “Chloe Miller! Do you have any idea that your sister only has eighteen years on this earth?! You have a whole lifetime to play! Why do you have to fight her for this single moment? How much time do you think she has left?!” My father stood by, his eyes red and watery. He didn’t stop her. I wailed from the pain of the slap. Clara immediately threw herself over me, shielding me from my mother. She cried, “Mom! I want to play too! We don’t have to go home. Please, don’t hit Chloe!” That night, after my mother applied ointment to my bruised cheek, Clara crept into my room. I turned my head away, refusing to look at her. But then, a warm tear fell onto my shoulder. I turned back and saw her tear-filled eyes. She handed me a fancy mechanical pencil—one I had wanted for months. She whispered, “Chloe… I’m so sorry…” She didn’t know what else to say, and I didn’t know how to answer. An apology like that shouldn’t have come from her. It shouldn’t have come from me, either. It should have come from our goddamn fate. But fate was silent. So Clara had to carry the guilt. Back in the first-class cabin, my mother wiped her tears and put another piece of grilled chicken onto Clara’s plate. “Clara, stop thinking about it. Here, eat.” “You’re such a good girl. But Chloe… she’s just too rebellious.” Rebellious? Was I? I didn’t know. When I was little, I used to cry because of the favoritism. As I grew older, I learned to cry in secret. I wanted to scream back, to tell them that I was good. That I could stay home alone, cook for myself, and comfort myself when I was scared. But even though I spoke, no one heard me. Then, my final memory flashed through my mind. It was the copper taste of blood bubbling up from my lungs. Coughing it up onto the floor. And then, collapsing into complete darkness. Oh. I see. I was already dead.

I watched Clara quietly. The suffocating countdown timer that used to hover over her head was completely gone. When we were kids, that timer was the very first thing I learned to hate. I remember asking Clara what those numbers meant. Clara had bit her lip and told me, “It’s a countdown for me to become a princess. When the time runs out, I’ll turn into a princess.” I had looked at her, confused. “Then why are Mom and Dad always so sad?” Clara stroked my hair, her voice incredibly soft. “Because once I become a princess, I’ll turn into sea foam, just like the Little Mermaid. I won’t be able to see you anymore.” But back then, I refused to accept that. I knew what princesses were. Being a princess meant being happy. It meant having a prince who loved you, countless jewels, and all the expensive raspberry gelato you could eat. Every summer, my mother would buy gourmet raspberry gelato. But it was always reserved solely for Clara. My mother would tell me, “This is too sweet for you, Chloe. Don’t eat it.” “But I love sweet things!” I would argue. But my mother always pretended not to hear. I couldn’t understand it. If Clara was going to become a princess and live in luxury, why did I have to give up my few miserable pieces of happiness to her now? So I ran to my mother and declared, “I have a countdown over my head too!” “When my time runs out, I’m going to turn into a princess!” “I want the raspberry gelato too!” The spoon in my mother’s hand froze. She stared at me, her entire body trembling with rage. She rasped, “What did you just say?” I screamed, “I have a countdown too! I’m going to turn into a princess! When that happens, I’ll leave you guys, and I’ll eat tons of raspberry gelato!” Slap! My mother slapped me hard across the face. She broke down sobbing, “Are you trying to drive me to my grave?!” “Do you really think that countdown is a good thing?!” Clara heard the commotion and rushed over to pull my mother away. But my mother seemed to have lost her mind. She started slapping her own face, screaming. “I’m useless! I’m a terrible mother!” I watched in absolute terror, unable to comprehend why she was reacting this way. Wasn’t becoming a princess a good thing? That night, I overheard my father comforting my mother in their room. “Chloe is still young… she doesn’t understand…” My mother sobbed hoarsely, “But what am I supposed to do? There are only ten years left… In ten years, our Clara will be gone forever…” It was only then that I finally understood. The end of the countdown didn’t mean becoming a princess. It meant leaving this family forever. Clara was actually going to die. Back in first class, Clara finished her meal and drifted off to sleep. My mother bit her lip and turned to my father. “David, how do you think Chloe is doing at home? Does her chest still hurt?” My father sighed. “There’s no signal on the plane. I’ll call her as soon as we land.” My mother said softly, “Let’s call her tomorrow… Today… is Clara’s last day.” My mother turned her head to look out the window, her voice cracking with emotion. “Chloe will understand. She’s about to lose her sister forever.”

The plane landed. My mother took Clara to the duty-free shops to distract her. My father hesitated for a long time before finally pulling out his phone to call me. The call didn’t go through. His brow furrowed slightly, and he tried again. Actually, it was hard to tell if he was genuinely frowning. He frowned so much over the years that a deep crease had permanently etched itself between his brows. He always looked unhappy. The second call went unanswered too. He opened Snapchat and typed: [Chloe, are you awake? Did you eat anything?] I floated right in front of him, waving my ghostly hands. “Dad, I didn’t eat. But I’m not hungry anymore. Please, just come home and check on me.” [Chloe?] He sent another message. But he couldn’t see me, and he couldn’t hear me. Finally, he let out a long sigh and locked his phone. He muttered to himself, “If only I could make more money… If only we could have brought Chloe along too. Well, Chloe still has a long life ahead of her. I’ll bring her next time.” With that, my father stood up. I watched his retreating back and whispered, “Dad, I don’t have a ‘next time’ anymore.” “I only have the past.” My mother and Clara walked out of the duty-free shop. My father immediately took the shopping bags from Clara’s hands. My mother asked, “Did Chloe pick up?” My father pursed his lips. “It didn’t go through.” My mother sighed. “That girl… she’s throwing a tantrum again.” My father led Clara forward, while my mother pulled out her phone and sent me a text: [Did you eat?] Still, no response. She opened her Venmo. She had a little over seven thousand dollars left in her balance. She muttered, “Three thousand for the hotel, two thousand for food, two thousand for Clara’s emergency medical reserve…” Gritting her teeth, she Venmoed me five hundred dollars with a note: [Chloe, stop being mad at me. Take this money and go buy some medicine.] But the money remained unclaimed, and the message went unread. My mother huffed in annoyance, “She’s really getting out of hand!” She shoved her phone back into her purse and walked away with giant strides. I stared at her back and whispered, “Mom, I can’t accept it anymore.”

Clara had an amazing time. Through their eyes, I also got to see sights I had never experienced in my life. We lived in the warm south, and I had never seen real snow. But today, I saw the majestic, snow-capped peaks of the mountains. When they returned to the resort after a day of sightseeing, my mother’s phone suddenly rang. It was the HOA representative from our apartment complex. “Hello, Mrs. Miller. We’ve received several complaints from your neighbors about a terrible odor coming from your unit.” My mother’s eyebrows knitted together tightly. “An odor?” My father muttered, “Could Chloe be doing something stupid just to spite us?” My mother’s face instantly darkened. She opened our chat history. The five hundred dollars she had sent on Venmo had just been automatically returned to her account because it went unclaimed for too long. Tears instantly spilled from my mother’s eyes. “She’s doing this on purpose!” “She chose this exact moment to pull this stunt! She wants to ruin her sister’s very last day! She wants to make sure Clara doesn’t have a single moment of peace!” My mother sobbed louder and louder, and my father rushed to comfort her. The HOA representative on the phone sounded incredibly awkward. “Is there anyone home? We’ve been knocking on your door for hours, but no one is answering.” “Also, several neighbors mentioned that your younger daughter hasn’t been seen leaving the apartment for days.” My mother lost her temper and screamed into the phone, “If she wants to stay inside, let her stay inside! Even if she dies in there, it has nothing to do with me!” I watched her quietly. She couldn’t see me. I let out a soft sigh. “Mom, I actually am dead.” The shouting woke Clara up. She pushed open her bedroom door, her voice groggy. “Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you so angry?” My parents froze. My mother flew across the room and locked Clara in a desperate, crushing hug. “Clara… my Clara… you’re still here…” “Thank God, you’re still here…” She held Clara so tightly, as if she wanted to fuse Clara into her own flesh. Even my father, who always tried to play the tough guy, began to weep silently. The HOA representative, still on the line, asked, “Should we go ahead and open the door then?” My mother snapped, “Open it! I want to see what kind of sick game Chloe is playing!” The representative started a FaceTime video call to show them the entry. They unlocked the door and pushed it open. The moment the camera panned inside, the hysterical relief on my mother’s face vanished. Her mouth hung open, but no sound came out. She could only make raw, choked noises from the back of her throat. “How… how…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456532”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

At our company’s anniversary gala, my husband’s secretary’s dog bit me. In my panic, I threw the dog off me. But my husband, Ethan, yelled at me in front of everyone. “Buster has been with Chloe for two years! How could you be so cruel to him? Do you have any compassion at all?” Chloe held the dog, which was still snarling at me, and sobbed softly. Ethan completely ignored my bleeding arm. He put his arm around Chloe, guided her and the dog, and walked away. That night, Chloe updated her Snapchat Story. It was a picture of a luxury downtown penthouse. [I said I wanted shelter from the storm, so he gave me a home.] The attached photo showed Ethan and her playing with the dog together. If this were the past, I would have caused a massive scene. But this time, I decided to let go. … Ethan and I arrived home one after the other. The moment he walked in, he scolded me. “You scared Buster so badly he won’t stop barking, and Chloe can’t sleep. You’re coming with me to apologize to her.” I held my freshly bandaged arm and said calmly, “Chloe put something on my clothes. That’s why the dog wouldn’t let go of me.” “If anyone is apologizing, it should be her.” Ethan glanced at my clean sleeve, his face darkening. “Stella, are you even trying to make your lies believable anymore?” “Chloe didn’t even talk to you face-to-face during the entire gala. How could she have put anything on you?” On the surface, we hadn’t interacted. But Chloe had followed me into the restroom. Inside, she bragged about the car and penthouse Ethan bought her. When I ignored her, she rushed forward to grab me. During the struggle, she spilled something wet onto my sleeve. I didn’t think much of it at the time. It wasn’t until the dog lunged at me like crazy that I realized what she had done. But even if I explained this a thousand times, Ethan would never believe me. Whatever. I turned around, exhausted, too tired to say another word. Seeing my attitude, Ethan grabbed my wrist. “You must give Chloe an explanation for this!” He was determined to make me apologize. Annoyed, I swung my arm to push him away. Ethan froze. “Stella, you’ve got some attitude now, don’t you?” In the past, I was completely submissive to him. I would never have resisted like this. If he even looked slightly displeased, I would immediately search for my own faults, apologize even when I did nothing wrong, and beg for his forgiveness. Ethan grabbed me again. “Apologize first. We’ll settle our issues when we get back.” He was so strong he was practically dragging me out the door. I struggled with all my might. But as I turned, I accidentally knocked over the heavy wine cabinet. The wine bottles came crashing down. Instantly, my back and left arm were covered in blood. Ethan panicked. “You… you knocked it over yourself.” I was in too much pain to speak. Only then did he gently pull me into his arms. “I’ll take you to the hospital.” I grit my teeth and nodded. When he unlocked the car, a sign in front of the passenger seat caught my eye: [Reserved for Princess Chloe.] It was an acrylic standee featuring a cartoon version of Chloe’s face. Ethan’s expression changed slightly. “Chloe put that there for fun. I forgot to take it off. Just throw it away.” I let out a cold laugh and climbed into the back seat instead. Ethan looked at me with confusion. I knew what he was thinking. Before, I cared so much about Chloe. I couldn’t stand her leaving any trace of herself around Ethan. Whenever I found something, I would start a huge fight. But now, I didn’t even care about Ethan anymore. What did Chloe have to do with me? Ethan opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped. Sweating from the pain, I urged him, “Just drive.” The car merged onto the highway. As soon as we arrived at the hospital, Ethan’s phone rang. It was Chloe. Ethan’s eyes softened instantly as he answered. I could hear Chloe crying on the other end. “Ethan, Buster is sick again. I’m so scared of losing him. Can you please come and be with me?” Ethan looked at me. I was pale from the blood loss. “We’re already at the hospital. Go get bandaged up yourself, and wait for me here when you’re done. Chloe needs me, I have to go.” He didn’t stay for even a single second. Watching his retreating back, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. The blood was drying on my fingertips. A nurse at the front desk noticed me and quickly led me to get the deep cuts cleaned. Going to the hospital twice in one day left me completely drained. I had just fallen asleep after getting home when Ethan burst in, furious. He ripped the blanket off me, his eyes blazing. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me at the hospital? Do you know how long I looked for you there?” “I was running around like an idiot while everyone stared. And you didn’t even answer your phone. Do you think you can just do whatever you want now?” ###2 I looked at him coldly. He was always like this. No matter what happened, he would always blame me first. Back when I loved him, I always felt that I wasn’t doing enough. But what did I do wrong? I had waited for him at the hospital for five whole hours. I only took a cab back when I couldn’t bear the pain anymore. During that time, he was the one who didn’t pick up my calls. Besides, it takes twenty minutes to get from the hospital to our house, and twenty minutes from Chloe’s apartment to our house. He hadn’t gone back to the hospital to pick me up at all. Staring into his angry eyes, I felt nothing but a cold stranger’s presence. He used to cherish me so much. When did he start to change? Thinking back, it probably started when Chloe joined the company. A stagnant marriage could never compete with the thrill of someone young and fresh. I lowered my eyes and reminded him, “During our last fight, you blocked me. I’m still on your block list.” Ethan froze. His anger slowly faded. Yet, he didn’t show any embarrassment at having his lie exposed. He calmly handed me a half-opened box of organic tea bags. “You lost a lot of blood. This is raspberry leaf tea. Drink some; it’s good for recovery.” Looking at the opened box, I recalled Chloe’s Snapchat story from earlier. [Who else gets their partner to hand-brew organic tea for them during their period?] The picture showed Ethan busy in the kitchen. But Ethan was a wealthy heir who had never touched a kettle in his life. My periods were always incredibly painful. I once begged him to make me a cup of warm tea. He had scoffed, “How old are you? Still whining about period cramps like a teenager? Grow up.” He had left me writhing in pain to spend the night with Chloe. And only when Chloe didn’t need him anymore did he reluctantly return to my side. I was always left with Chloe’s scraps. Just like this half-opened box of tea. I pulled the blanket back over myself. “I don’t want it. Throw it away.” Ethan flew into a rage. “Chloe was nice enough to let me bring this back for you, and you’re just throwing it away? Stella, stop throwing tantrums!” “Aren’t you just bitter because I’m nice to Chloe? But am I not good to you?” “I took you to the hospital. I brought you tea. Even though you terrified Chloe and Buster, I didn’t even hold you accountable. Why are you never satisfied?” I wanted to laugh. I hadn’t even touched Chloe’s dog. In fact, my arm had been bitten straight through. But he couldn’t see my bleeding wounds; his mind was entirely occupied by Chloe’s tears. Too exhausted to argue, I closed my eyes. Ethan got even angrier. “Chloe was right. You’re just a greedy, foolish woman!” “You throw tantrums over nothing and have zero tolerance. If I really wanted to bring another woman into this house, do you think you’d still be sitting in the position of Mrs. Miller?” “I must have been blind to marry a paranoid, ungrateful psycho like you.” “You can’t even compare to one of Chloe’s fingernails!” His words grew harsher. If this had been the past, even if I only had one breath left, I would have dragged myself up to argue with him, desperate to salvage my image in his eyes. But now, I didn’t take a single word of his to heart. I reached out, put on my AirPods, turned over, and peacefully went to sleep. Ethan let out a few heavy breaths before slamming the door and storming out. The bang shook the house. In the past, every time we fought, he would run straight to Chloe. The moment he left, anxiety would keep me awake all night. I would constantly reflect on myself, looking for any mistake I might have made, then humbly apologize and cry, begging for his forgiveness. But that night, I slept incredibly well. So well that even though Ethan disappeared for five consecutive days, I didn’t feel anything was wrong. For those five days, we had no contact. The next time I saw him was on a mutual friend’s social media. The friend had posted a photo. Both Ethan and Chloe were in it. They were standing close together. Chloe’s head was resting on Ethan’s shoulder, and Ethan’s arm was wrapped around her waist. They looked incredibly intimate. I tapped the “like” button. ###3 Almost the next second, a text from Ethan popped up on Snapchat. [Mark is getting married this Thanksgiving. We’re having a pre-wedding celebration. I’ll pick you up in a bit.] A few seconds later, he sent another one. [It’s mostly a guys’ hangout, and I shouldn’t really bring you, but it’s good for you to get out and socialize. Stop being so shut-in all the time.] A guys’ hangout? Then what was Chloe doing there? I sneered and didn’t reply. A few minutes later, Ethan called. I wanted to decline, but Mark took the phone and begged me to join. Since Mark worked at Ethan’s company and had helped me a lot in the past, I couldn’t say no. I drove myself there. The location was a mountain peak where a group of people was planning to go bungee jumping. Seeing me, Mark called out, “Hey, Stella!” He always called Ethan “boss,” but this warm greeting gave me plenty of respect in front of everyone. Chloe’s face turned sour. She forced a fake smile. “I’m so glad you could make it, Stella.” “You can help Ethan and me take some photos later. These guys have terrible camera skills.” I glanced at her. “My camera skills are great, but I don’t shoot trash.” In the past, our dynamic was always her throwing passive-aggressive jabs, and me taking it out on Ethan. Because I felt Ethan was the one truly responsible. But she wasn’t innocent either. This was the first time I confronted her directly in front of everyone, humiliating her without mercy. Chloe’s face flushed red. Ethan’s eyes darkened with anger. The silence was deafening as everyone stared at each other. Seeing the tension, Mark quickly tried to smooth things over. “Well, taking photos is a small task. We don’t need to waste Stella’s talent on that.” “Everyone knows Stella is our company’s chief designer, right? We can’t waste her skills.” The others immediately chimed in. “I heard that ‘Etoile’ in Paris has reached out to Stella several times. That’s the holy grail for designers, right, Stella?” I nodded. “Yes, we are in talks. If it’s a good fit, I’ll move there.” Mark smiled. “That’s amazing!” He wanted to say more. But Ethan snapped first. He marched over to me and demanded, “Why didn’t I know about this?” “Are you planning to leave my company? Don’t forget, you still work for me. Did I give you permission to resign?” I looked at his angry face with cold detachment. “My career has nothing to do with you.” Ethan’s chest heaved with rage. Fearing Ethan would cause a scene, Mark quickly dragged him away, saying the bungee jumping gear was ready. Chloe followed them, purring, “Don’t be mad, Ethan. Let’s do a tandem jump together.” Ethan looked at me, then at her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Chloe threw a provocative smirk my way. “Stella, you’ll have to jump alone later. Don’t be too scared!” Mark intervened. “Stella is afraid of heights. She can just wait for us up here.” Chloe smirked. “But the best way to conquer fear is to face it.” “Fear of heights can really limit your life. Why doesn’t Stella go first? Once you jump, your phobia will probably disappear.” I took a step back. “No.” Chloe immediately pouted. “Oh… but Stella, I’m only saying this for your own good.” She looked at Ethan with puppy-dog eyes. She might as well have said out loud that I was spitting on her good intentions. Ethan’s displeasure was written all over his face. “Chloe is trying to help you. Just jump once. It’s not going to kill you.” Forcing someone with a severe phobia of heights to bungee jump—how was that any different from trying to kill them? I shook my head firmly. “I said no. If she wants to be helpful, you guys can enjoy it yourselves.” Tears welled up in Chloe’s eyes. “Stella, do you still hate me? But about Buster…” She stopped halfway, easily fueling Ethan’s anger. Thinking about my “rebellion,” Ethan’s face went completely black. “You terrified Chloe and her dog, yet she holds no grudges and still tries to help you. How dare you act so high and mighty?” “Afraid of heights? You didn’t seem afraid when you took flights. Today, I’m going to see if a single jump can actually kill you!” He grabbed my hair, dragged me over, and coldly ordered the instructor to buckle us both into the safety harness. The cold wind blew up from the canyon. My legs immediately turned to jelly. I trembled and begged, “No… Ethan, please, I really can’t…” He ignored my pleas completely and pushed me off the ledge. Suddenly airborne, the terrifying sensation of freefall hit me like a tidal wave. I was too terrified to even scream. Instinctively, I tried to hold onto Ethan for safety, but his face remained cold as he repeatedly pushed my hands away. I felt like the air was tearing me apart. Tears and sweat covered my face. It was only a one-minute jump, but to me, it felt like an eternity. When we finally got back to the platform, I collapsed on the ground like a dying animal, shaking violently, my face whiter than paper. I was soaked in cold sweat, my stomach cramping so hard I wanted to die. I could feel a warm fluid starting to flow between my legs. But Chloe acted as if she was the one who was terrified, crying loudly in Ethan’s arms. Ethan comforted her gently. “Don’t cry. This is what she deserves.” “If we don’t teach her a lesson, she’ll just keep bullying you.” “Don’t worry. If she doesn’t learn, I’ll punish her again.” Then, he walked over to me, looking down at me coldly. “Do you know your place now? Apologize to Chloe immediately, or I’ll push you off again to build your courage.” I didn’t even have the strength to stand up. I could only raise my head slowly, staring at him with bloodshot eyes, and squeezed out a sentence with all my remaining strength. “Ethan… I want a divorce!” In an instant, the surrounding area went dead silent. Ethan looked at me in disbelief. “What did you say?” I wanted to laugh, but my head was spinning violently, as if I were being dragged into a deep abyss. I struggled to crawl up from the ground, but after only a few steps, darkness consumed me, and I fainted. Before I lost consciousness completely, I heard Mark and the others screaming. “Stella fainted!” “Oh my god, there’s so much blood on the ground.” “Don’t just stand there! Call 911!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456531”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster