Author: Momo Chan

The moment my fiancée, Isabella, returned from Vegas with her assistant, she announced a 30% raise for the entire tech department—the one I managed. My team went wild. The office was buzzing. “Bella must’ve hit a massive jackpot in Vegas! Why else would she suddenly approve a department-wide raise like this?” “Every other department is green with envy.” “Let them be. Our chief is her fiancé, after all. Of course, she’s going to look after us first!” “Hey, chief,” one of my guys asked, leaning over my desk, “how much did she actually win?” I just frowned. Something felt off. Just then, Isabella swept into our department, her assistant trailing behind her, a thick stack of documents in his arms. She tossed them onto my desk with an air of casual authority. “These need signing by your department. You’re the manager, Gordon. Lead by example.” I flipped open the top document. My eyes widened. Personal Loan Agreement? 1 What the hell was this? Were we supposed to take out loans just to get paid? My confusion was mirrored on the faces of my entire team. “Personal Loan Agreements? What’s going on?” one of them blurted out. “We take out loans from a bank, and the company uses that money to pay our salaries?” “This has to be a mistake, right?” “Loan-to-work? I’ve been in this industry for a decade and never heard of anything so insane!” “So the 30% raise was just a lie to get us to take on debt for the company? Do they think we’re idiots?” As the murmurs of discontent grew into a wave of outrage, Isabella shot a look at her assistant, Vincent. He slapped a hand on the table, his face a mask of stern disapproval. “Everybody, quiet down. Don’t run your mouths off about things you don’t understand. You’ll damage the company’s reputation.” He pasted on a slick, reassuring smile. “This is a special perk for the tech department. Other teams would kill for this opportunity.” One of my senior engineers snorted. “A perk? First I’ve ever heard of debt being a benefit.” Vincent ignored him, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “While the loans are in your names, you won’t be responsible for repayment. The company will handle everything.” He spread his hands wide. “Stratton Industries is expanding rapidly, and our capital is tied up in new ventures. We’re just facing a temporary cash-flow issue.” “Rest assured,” he continued, his eyes sweeping over the skeptical faces, “as soon as you sign, the company guarantees to pay off the bank loans within a year, max. After that, your salaries will see another boost. Stratton is doing this because you’re a vital department, and also because your manager, Gordon, is Ms. Stratton’s fiancé. You’re getting special treatment. An opportunity like this doesn’t just fall into anyone’s lap.” His words were smooth, but it was just empty promises wrapped in corporate jargon. The team wasn’t buying it; their expressions were still a mixture of anger and disbelief. Vincent turned his phony smile on me. “Gordon, you’re a reasonable man. They might not understand the company’s vision, but surely you do. Bella is working herself to the bone for this company’s future. If her own tech department can’t handle a small request like this, how can she lead us forward? Come on, be a leader. Sign the papers.” Sign it? I’d sooner break my own damn leg. I didn’t have to guess who cooked up this ridiculous, insulting scheme. It had Vincent’s fingerprints all over it. Ever since he’d joined as Isabella’s assistant, she’d become completely dependent on his advice, taking him to every important meeting. Whispers had already started, people wondering if he was the real fiancé, if I was just the guy she was stringing along. We’d fought about him, about his influence, more times than I could count. Each argument ended in a bitter stalemate, chipping away at whatever was left between us. Our love, our partnership… it had been worn thin by these constant battles. I took a deep breath, ignoring Vincent completely, and looked directly at Isabella. “Making employees sign loan agreements is unheard of,” I said, my voice low and steady. “This will crush morale. It’s poison for the company culture. Whoever suggested this does not have your best interests at heart.” As I said it, I shot a cold glare at Vincent. The smile on his face tightened, and a flicker of malice flashed in his eyes. Isabella’s expression hardened. “Gordon, enough with the drama,” she snapped, her patience gone. “Just sign the damn papers. I have other things to do.” It was like she hadn’t heard a word I said. Vincent, now looking smug, leaned in with a hint of a sneer. “Don’t hesitate, Gordon. I have to escort Bella to a banquet tonight. We don’t have all day.” My team looked crushed, their anger turning to a quiet desperation. They all looked at me. I’d built this department from the ground up, hired every single person in the room. They trusted me. I was their anchor. I looked back at Isabella, and all I felt was a profound sense of disappointment. This wasn’t the woman I’d fallen in love with, the partner I’d planned a future with. In just one year, she’d become a stranger. And in her eyes, I was no longer a partner, but just another disposable piece on her chessboard. A deep weariness washed over me. For years, I had poured my heart and soul into helping her build Stratton Industries, asking for nothing but her trust in return. Now I saw it all for what it was: a one-sided fantasy. I let the loan agreement slip from my fingers and onto the desk. “Anyone who signs this,” I said, my voice clear and final, “is a fool.” 2 Isabella’s face flushed with fury. She clearly hadn’t expected me to defy her so publicly. “Gordon,” she seethed, her eyes blazing, “say that again. I dare you.” I met her gaze without flinching. “I will not sign this loan agreement. Period.” My declaration was like a signal. The rest of the tech team erupted. “He’s right! They’re playing us for fools!” “All that hype about a 30% raise… what a joke. We got excited for nothing.” “The chief’s right! Whoever signs this is an idiot.” “We’re tech guys. We might not be the smoothest talkers, but we’re not stupid.” “The company will pay it back? Yeah, right. Even a five-year-old wouldn’t fall for that lie.” “They want to sell us down the river and expect us to thank them for it? This is disgusting.” The room was filled with the righteous anger of my team. Vincent, trying to reassert control, puffed out his chest. “What’s all this noise? I told you, it’s a company perk! Don’t be so ungrateful!” he yelled over the din. “Let me make this clear: anyone who doesn’t sign today can clear out their desk tomorrow. You think this company can’t function without you? You’re all spoiled. Don’t forget who signs your paychecks. This company is named Stratton, and it belongs to her.” He shot me a pointed, triumphant look. The jab was meant for me. Isabella glared at me, her face a thundercloud. “Gordon, my office. Now.” Without waiting for a reply, she spun on her heel and stormed off. I followed her into her office. The moment I was inside, she slammed the door shut, the sound echoing the violence of her anger. “Are you out of your mind, Gordon?” she screamed, whirling on me. “I asked your department to sign a simple loan agreement, and you undermined me in front of everyone! Do you even see me as your fiancée anymore? Do you have any idea how bad you just made me look?” I sighed, the fight draining out of me. “This was Vincent’s idea, wasn’t it?” I asked quietly. “Have you thought about what happens when word of this gets out? What people will think of Stratton Industries? That guy…” “Vincent is looking out for me! For the company!” she cut me off, her voice shrill. “Our cash flow is tight. It’s just a one-year loan, I’m not asking them to sell their souls! Once our capital frees up, I’ll compensate them handsomely…” I held up a hand to stop her. “The company is short on cash?” My brows knitted together. “How is that possible? We just had two major project payments come in last month. The company has been profitable every single quarter. There’s no reason for us to be in a financial crunch.” A flicker of panic crossed Isabella’s face. She avoided my eyes, her answer vague and evasive. A cold dread began to creep up my spine. “Isabella,” I said, my voice dropping, “how much did you lose in Vegas?” If I hadn’t figured it out by now, I really would be an idiot. My question seemed to push her over the edge from defensive to furious. “How much I lost is none of your business!” she shot back. “Even when we’re married, you don’t get to control my private life. Stratton Industries is my family’s company. If I want to run it into the ground, that’s my decision, and it has nothing to do with you!” I let out another heavy sigh. “How much could you even get from the team’s loans? It wouldn’t be nearly enough to solve a serious cash-flow problem,” I reasoned, trying one last time. “If things are really that bad, we can use the money from our savings account to tide the company over.” When we first got together, we’d opened a joint account. It was for our future—our wedding, our first home, our kids. Over the years, I’d deposited most of my salary, bonuses, and dividends into it. My contributions alone totaled over a million dollars. It should have been more than enough to cover a temporary shortfall. But as I said it, Isabella went silent, a guilty expression washing over her face. I stared at her in disbelief. “Don’t tell me,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat. “You didn’t… you didn’t touch that account, did you? You blew through that, too?” She had always called that account our safety net, our last resort. If the company ever failed, that money was supposed to be the foundation we would rebuild our lives on. And now, she had torched it. Faced with my shocked expression, her guilt morphed back into anger. “My luck was just bad, okay!” she yelled. “Once the company is stable, I swear I’ll win it all back! Stop fixating on this. The priority right now is to keep the company afloat.” She took a breath, her eyes regaining a manic intensity. “Vincent and I have already worked it out. If we get your entire tech team to sign the loan agreements, we can leverage them with a private finance company. We’ll get way more than we would from a bank. It will solve everything!” I almost laughed. It was such a brazenly monstrous plan. She and Vincent weren’t just asking for a loan. They were leading my entire team to the slaughterhouse. 3 I don’t know what kind of poison Vincent had been feeding Isabella, but she was completely under his spell. She hadn’t just gambled away company funds; she’d drained our shared future, and now she was coming for the livelihoods of my entire team. Had she given any thought to the consequences? She had become utterly unreasonable. I stopped trying to reason with her. It was pointless. “No matter what you say, I won’t sign that contract,” I stated flatly. “And the people in my department aren’t stupid. They won’t let you sell them off like cattle.” “If the company needs money, there are other ways. We can apply for a corporate loan. We can ask our business partners for a short-term bridge loan…” “No!” she snapped, her eyes wide with panic. “No one outside this company can know we’re in trouble. I would be humiliated.” Her gaze hardened into an ultimatum. “Gordon, I’m saying this for the last time. You will lead your team in signing those agreements, or else…” Before she could finish her threat, a commotion erupted from outside the office—angry shouts mixed with Vincent’s pained, pathetic yelps. Isabella’s face went pale. She wrenched the door open. In the main office area, Vincent was on the floor, being swarmed by the tech team. They were kicking and hitting him, even the normally mild-mannered women on my team landing a few furious kicks. It was a testament to just how much he was hated. “Stop it!” Isabella shrieked, rushing forward to shield him with her own body. She glared at the team, a lioness protecting her cub. “How dare you! Assaulting someone in my company!” The team fell back, breathing heavily. Before they could explain, Vincent, clutching his side, put on a masterful show of victimhood. “Bella, they’re insane!” he whimpered. “I was just trying to reason with them, to get them to think about the company, and they attacked me! I’m your assistant! By attacking me, they’re attacking you!” He pointed a shaking finger at the team. “They’re arrogant. In their eyes, Gordon is their only boss. You mean nothing to them compared to him.” Hearing Vincent’s twisted version of events, the team’s anger flared again, and a few of them looked ready to lunge at him once more. I knew my people. They wouldn’t have laid a hand on him without extreme provocation. He must have said something truly vile. But Isabella, blinded by her trust in him, didn’t give them a chance to speak. “This is my company, not Gordon’s!” she yelled, her voice cracking with rage. “You dare attack my assistant? Is this a rebellion? You think because you have a few technical skills you can disrespect everyone? Fine! Half of your salaries this month are gone! And you can forget about your quarterly and annual bonuses! That’s your punishment. Anyone who doesn’t like it can quit right now. I’ll approve your resignation on the spot!” My team’s faces were flushed with indignation. They were professionals, here to do a job, not indentured servants. Isabella was acting like a feudal lord punishing her serfs. Did she really think they couldn’t find work elsewhere? Before anyone could respond, she turned her fury back on me. “And you,” she spat, her voice dripping with contempt, “if you don’t sign that contract, you can get the hell out too!” I looked at her, the last embers of our shared history dying in that moment. “Fine,” I said calmly. “I’m gone.” 4 The news that Stratton Industries had fired its entire tech department sent shockwaves through the company and even made a few ripples online. Internet forums were buzzing with confusion. “What’s Stratton doing? Firing their whole tech team right before the holidays? That’s corporate suicide.” “Gordon wasn’t just their Head of Tech, he was Isabella Stratton’s fiancé! Now she’s kicked him out too? What happened?” “I heard she publicly tore into him and called off the wedding.” “But they seemed so solid. Stratton Industries wouldn’t be where it is today without him. How did it all fall apart so fast?” As speculation mounted, a flood of negative stories suddenly appeared online. They were hit pieces, filled with slander and fabricated rumors designed to ruin the reputations of everyone on my former team. The articles about me were particularly vicious, quickly pushed to the top of trending topics. My team and I ignored the noise. The moment word got out that Isabella and I were done, my phone started ringing off the hook. Headhunters from major corporations were calling, and several prominent business leaders reached out directly with offers. Now, we were all gathered in a high-end restaurant, dining with one of those leaders. Mr. Wallace was a man of action. He was so impressed with our team that he’d set up an entirely new subsidiary just to partner with us. Everyone on my team got their salary doubled, with bonuses and benefits that blew Stratton Industries out of the water. I raised my glass to him. “Mr. Wallace, I don’t know how to thank you for this opportunity. We won’t let you down.” Wallace waved a dismissive hand. “This is a partnership, Gordon, mutually beneficial. No need for thanks. I’ve had my eye on you for a while. If it weren’t for your engagement to Isabella Stratton, I would have poached you years ago.” He chuckled. “Frankly, I have no idea what got into her, firing a team like yours right before year-end. The next time I see her, I ought to thank her. If she hadn’t made such a colossal blunder, I never would have gotten the chance to work with you.” I didn’t want to talk about Isabella, but Wallace suddenly leaned forward, his expression turning serious. “Gordon, after you left, she did something incredibly foolish. I don’t think Stratton Industries is going to last much longer.” “What did she do?” I asked, curious despite myself. With a mysterious smile, Wallace took out his phone and sent me a video.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390588”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My daughter was a jinx. Her first word was “Die.” No one thought much of it, but the next day her grandfather was hit by a truck and killed. When she started preschool, her second sentence was, “The snow by the door is red.” My mother-in-law went downstairs and was struck by a falling flowerpot—her head split open, blood pooling on the ground and staining the snow crimson. Grief-stricken, my husband wanted to get rid of her. Then she said, “Daddy, watch out for the car.” Terrified, he barely left the house. But he slipped on a toy car, fell, and suffered a cerebral hemorrhage—he died instantly. I begged her to stop cursing us. She looked cold and guiltless. “Mommy,” she said flatly, “stay away from the fire.” On New Year’s Eve, I climbed to the roof. I didn’t want to burn—I chose my own end. As I jumped, fireworks exploded below, engulfing me in sparks. I died instantly, amid screams. My daughter watched blankly from the roof. Even in death, I couldn’t understand why she cursed us all. Then I woke up—back to the day she first learned to speak. This time, I’d finally know what her cursed words really meant. … My eyes fluttered open to see my one-year-old daughter pointing a chubby finger at my father-in-law, her baby voice clear and chilling. “Die.” At first, no one reacted. Her grandfather was still tickling her chin playfully. “What’s my little Nora saying, huh? Say ‘Grandpa,’ and Grandpa will give you a big surprise!” But Nora’s little face was a cold mask. She repeated the word. “Die.” A wave of fear and anger washed over me. I clamped my hand over her mouth. “Don’t you ever say that word! How could you wish for Grandpa to die?” Nora struggled against my hand, her face turning red as she began to wail. My father-in-law rushed to intervene. “She’s just learning to talk, Anna! Why are you getting so worked up?” I bit my lip, my body trembling uncontrollably. “Dad, she’s cursing you!” He stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing. “What are you talking about? She’s a baby. She doesn’t even know what ‘die’ means.” I didn’t know how to explain it. All I could do was plead with him to be careful when he went out. “Especially watch out for traffic,” I begged. He agreed, but I could tell he wasn’t taking me seriously. I told my husband, Mark, the same thing. He just laughed and said I was overreacting. He looked at Nora with adoration. “She’s my lucky star, Anna, not some jinx.” Then his expression softened with concern. “Are you sure you’re not suffering from postpartum anxiety? Maybe you should take a break. Let my parents watch Nora for a while.” A jolt of panic shot through me. I shook my head violently. No. What if she cursed someone else when I wasn’t looking? But a small, hopeful part of me wondered if maybe, just maybe, everything before had been a string of horrible coincidences. I kept my father-in-law at home for the next few days. I even gathered up all the toy cars and locked them away, terrified of a repeat of what happened to Mark. After a few days of being cooped up, my father-in-law couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m just going down to the community garden for some fresh air. Don’t fuss over me!” I pleaded with him again and again not to go anywhere near the road. But the accident happened anyway. 2 He missed a step on the way down the stairs. He tumbled, rolling all the way to the bottom, and his head landed squarely on a nail sticking out of a floorboard. He died instantly. When the paramedics arrived, they just told us to call the funeral home. My mother-in-law knelt beside him, her cries echoing in the stairwell. “How could you leave me so soon? What am I going to do without you?” But her kind, gentle husband would never answer her again. Mark rushed home from work, his eyes immediately turning red. But he held himself together, calmly calling relatives to make arrangements for the funeral. I held Nora in my arms, guilt and self-loathing threatening to drown me. But my daughter just looked on with wide, innocent eyes, as if nothing had happened. I gently turned her face towards mine. “Nora, tell Mommy. Why did you say that word? Please?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Why did you have to curse Grandpa?” She couldn’t answer. The pressure of my fingers on her cheeks made her uncomfortable, and she burst into tears. Hearing her cries, Mark hurried over and took her from me. He frowned, his eyes filled with reproach. “It was an accident, Anna. It has nothing to do with Nora!” My own tears started to fall. I wished more than anything that he was right. But my father-in-law was dead. That was real. From that day on, I stopped speaking to Nora. I forbade anyone else from speaking to her, too. Mark thought I was losing my mind. My mother-in-law would hold Nora close and scold me. “Anna, your father-in-law’s death was a tragic accident. You can’t blame a child for it.” Nora would just play with her rattle, offering me a sweet, innocent smile. And every time she did, a chill would run down my spine. I didn’t know how to stop her curse, so I just tried to warn my family, over and over again. Years passed in uneasy peace. I had almost managed to forget about the curse. Until one day, Nora was watching TV and spoke her second sentence. “The snow by the door is red.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I bolted downstairs and swept the front entrance clean of every last flake of snow. There, I thought, panting. Let’s see the curse come true now. Then my phone rang. It was Mark, his voice choked with sobs. “Anna! Get to the entrance of the complex, quick! It’s Mom… something’s happened to Mom!” My hands trembling, I locked Nora inside the apartment. When I sprinted to the entrance, I found my mother-in-law lying on the ground, covered in blood. A bag of salt she’d bought had burst open, the white crystals scattered around her, glittering in the sun like freshly fallen snow… Nora’s curse had come true again. She had been killed by a car that ran a red light. I couldn’t even hear the driver’s apologies over the roaring in my ears. I couldn’t let her do this anymore. I clutched the object in my pocket and turned back towards home. 3 Nora was sitting like a little wooden doll, staring at the TV. When I called her name, she turned her head with a stiff, robotic motion. “Grandma is dead,” I said, my voice shaking. “Don’t you have anything to say?” She just shook her head. No tears, no emotion. My heart turned to ice. My mother-in-law had raised her, loved her, and now that she was dead, this child felt nothing. I grabbed her by the shoulders, my anger boiling over. “What do you want from us? Did our family wrong you in a past life?” I screamed. “Why do you have to curse your own family?” Her lower lip trembled, and she started to wail. “Mommy, you’re hurting me!” I froze and let go. In that moment, she seemed human again. For a second, I had truly believed she was a demon sent to destroy us. “Nora,” I pleaded, my voice soft now. “Promise me you’ll never, ever curse our family again. Please?” But her eyes drifted past me, towards the door. Mark had just returned from the funeral home, his face pale and drawn. Nora spoke again. “Daddy, you need to watch out for the car, too.” For a second, I was stunned. Then, pure rage consumed me. I slapped her across the face. “Why are you doing this? Do you want to kill your father and me?” She had never been hit before. She clutched her cheek and howled. Mark was horrified. He scooped her into his arms and roared at me. “Anna, can’t you just give it a rest? She’s a child! What could she possibly do? If you had been a little more considerate of Mom, she wouldn’t have had to go out for groceries in a snowstorm in the first place!” His words were a punch to the gut. “Fine,” I choked out. “If you don’t believe me, then don’t.” Mark grabbed a few things and headed out to his car, intending to go buy a burial plot. The moment he walked out to the parking garage, I was filled with regret. His parents were gone. I couldn’t lose him, too. He must have still been angry, because he didn’t answer my calls. I must have called him thirty times before he finally picked up. His voice was a terrified gasp. “Anna, you were right! Nora… she’s a jinx! My brakes failed! Help me!” By the time I got to him and rushed him to the hospital, the doctors told me they had to amputate his legs to save his life. I agreed without a second’s hesitation. As long as he was alive, that was all that mattered. But when Nora saw her father lying in the hospital bed, her face was still a blank slate. Her indifference was so complete that even Mark’s heart grew cold. I seethed with resentment. This child was selfish, only ever crying for herself. I secretly took her to a child psychologist. The doctor said there was nothing wrong with her, and just advised us to limit our interactions with her. If even a doctor couldn’t find what was wrong, my mind turned to more esoteric solutions. But every mystic or spiritualist I took her to see turned pale at the sight of her and said they couldn’t help. After long and agonizing deliberation, I decided to put the substance into my daughter’s cup of water. That night, Nora’s agonizing screams echoed from her room. 4 I listened from the room next door, tears of anguish streaming down my face. But I knew I had to do it. Otherwise, the next person to die would be me. The next morning, I opened her door. The walls were covered in scratches. She was huddled in a corner like a feral animal, clawing at her own throat, her eyes bloodshot and filled with a burning hatred for me. I wept as I held her. “Forgive me, Nora. Mommy didn’t want to do this.” After I gave her the concoction, my daughter became a mute. Our happy family was shattered. But it was better than the alternative, where everyone ended up dead. I threw myself into my work, trying my best to take care of my broken family. But ever since Mark became disabled, his personality had twisted into something bitter and cruel. I’d come home from a long day at work to his sullen face. If my cooking wasn’t to his liking, he’d throw his chopsticks across the table. One night, he looked at me and said, “Anna, let’s get a divorce.” I was stunned. I frantically asked what I had done wrong. He pointed a shaking finger from me to Nora. “If it weren’t for you two, my parents would still be alive, and I wouldn’t be a useless cripple!” I was consumed with guilt. I begged him not to leave us. I pulled Nora over, trying to make her apologize with me. But she ripped her hand from mine and ran back to her room. I clung to him, sobbing. “You’re all I have left. Please, don’t leave us.” Mark was silent for a long time. Then he wrapped his arms around me, his voice a low, pained growl. “Why? What did we ever do to deserve her?” I didn’t know why Nora would curse us. What had we done wrong? Nora treated us like her mortal enemies. But I had forgotten one crucial thing. She couldn’t speak, but she could still write. While cleaning her room one day, I found her diary. On one of the pages, she had written: ‘Mommy, Daddy, stay away from the fire. Be careful not to get burned to death!’

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390587”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years ago, a major medical malpractice incident cost me my license. My reputation was in ruins. I was forced to scrape by, working in a shabby little clinic. Through it all, my husband, Arthur, stood by me. He sold off family assets to hire a top-tier lawyer who, citing insufficient evidence, managed to keep me out of prison. He was my only light in the darkness. Until the day I found the hidden folder on his old laptop. And discovered the truth about that surgery. The video clearly showed him, identified as the patient’s family, sneaking into the prep room before the operation and swapping a critical drug. The so-called top-tier lawyer? She was just an old university mentee of his. The files showed her coaching him on how to forge evidence and manipulate the media, all to paint me as a reckless butcher who played with human lives. And the one thing he always said to me, over and over? “Without me, Nina, no one in this world would ever want you.” I shut the laptop and looked in the mirror. All I saw was a pair of scarred hands that trembled at the mere thought of holding a scalpel, and a gaunt, haunted reflection, the product of years of deep depression. It finally hit me. These three miserable years of my life… they were all his doing. 1 I sat on the cold floor of the study, my entire body shaking. The laptop screen was still glowing, the video having played to its end. The final frame was of Arthur, wearing medical gloves, carefully switching one vial for another. The date, the time, the surgery number. It all matched. That was the day my world had collapsed. It wasn’t an accident. It was a meticulously planned murder. The murder of my career. The murder of my life. There was more in the folder. Screenshots of emails, chat logs. A digital trail of conversations between Arthur and his “top-tier lawyer” mentee, Stella. 【Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll handle the media narrative. I’ll make sure she never practices again.】 【And after this is done, your new firm…】 【Of course. Any clients you send my way will be top priority. And as for Dr. Reed… she’ll be more dependent on you than ever.】 【Good. That’s for the best.】 The cold, calculated words on the screen made it hard to breathe. I used the desk to pull myself to my feet and stared at my reflection. My face was ashen, with dark, bruised circles under my eyes from years of insomnia. My hands, the hands that had once held a scalpel with unshakable confidence, were now a roadmap of self-inflicted scars. It was pathetic; I could barely hold a glass of water without spilling it. At 4 a.m., I packed a suitcase and hid it in the back of the closet. He came in at seven, right on schedule, holding a glass of milk. “You’re awake?” His voice was as gentle as ever as he sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s your day off. You should sleep in.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. I had looked at this face for seven years, once believing it to be the most dependable in the world. Now, it was the face of a terrifying stranger. “What’s wrong? You look pale.” He reached out to touch my forehead, and I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s nothing,” I said, looking down, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just a bad dream.” “About the surgery again?” He sighed and handed me the milk. “Here, drink this. It’ll calm you down. I added a little honey, just how you like it.” I stared at the milky white liquid. I’d never questioned it before. He told me it was a supplement to help me relax, and I drank it obediently every day, spending the rest of my hours in a hazy, forgetful fog. Now I knew what it really was. Sedatives. A steady, low dose, administered over years. I took the glass, placed it on the nightstand, and asked casually, “Are you going out today?” “Yeah, a last-minute meeting at the office. I might be back late.” He leaned down. “You just rest here at home. Don’t let your mind wander, okay?” “Okay,” I whispered. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. A touch that had once brought me comfort now made my skin crawl. The moment the front door clicked shut, I ran to the bathroom and poured the milk down the toilet. Back in the bedroom, I opened my phone and found the main number for Arthur’s company. “Good morning, Apex Medical Solutions. How may I help you?” “Hi, I’d just like to confirm if President Arthur Vance has a last-minute meeting scheduled for this morning?” “One moment, please.” I heard the clatter of a keyboard. “No… I’m not seeing any meetings on his schedule for today. May I ask who’s calling?” “Never mind. Thank you.” I hung up. I knew that if he wasn’t at the office, there was only one other place he would be. Stella’s law firm. I saw Arthur’s car parked in a temporary spot on the side of the building. Two minutes later, Stella emerged from the revolving doors. She walked quickly to the car, pulled open the passenger door, and slipped inside. I watched them kiss. It was natural. Practiced. I stood silently in the shadows, feeling no anger, no tears. Just a numb shock and a sharp, twisting pain in my chest, as if someone had reached in and squeezed my heart. 2 After about ten minutes, they finally broke apart. Before Stella got out, Arthur grabbed her hand and said something. I was too far away to hear, but I saw her bright, confident smile and the firm nod she gave him. She didn’t go back into the building right away, instead standing on the curb, looking down at her phone. I walked over and stopped in front of her. She looked up, and the smile on her face froze. “Dr… Dr. Reed?” She quickly composed herself, her expression shifting to a professional, plastic smile. “What are you doing here? Were you looking for me?” I looked at her—the woman who had destroyed my life. Young, beautiful, radiating success. “Just passing by,” I heard myself say, my voice terrifyingly calm. “I saw a familiar car and thought I’d take a look.” Her eyes darted away for a second, but she quickly recovered, a playful smirk forming on her lips as she looked me up and down. “So, Dr. Reed,” she said, crossing her arms, her voice light and airy, “I guess you know.” She let out a short, sharp laugh and took a step closer. “It’s a relief, honestly. Holding it in was killing me.” She savored the moment, watching my face for a reaction. “These past three years, watching you cling to Arthur like a pathetic lost puppy… I almost felt sorry for you.” She paused deliberately. “Did you know? The night of your ‘incident,’ he was with me. In my bed. Taking your tearful phone calls while I was lying next to him.” My nails dug into my palms. The pain was sharp, but it kept me grounded, kept me lucid. “And that ‘calming’ milk you drink every day? The formula was my suggestion,” she continued, her voice dripping with venom. “We couldn’t make the dose too high, of course. That would be suspicious. It’s the classic slow burn, isn’t it? Watching you turn into a walking ghost… I have to say, the results were excellent.” “He only keeps you around out of pity, you know. He’s terrified you’ll kill yourself if you leave, and that would ruin his precious reputation as the devoted, long-suffering husband.” Every word was a poisoned dagger, aimed with precision at my already shattered heart. Strangely, the searing pain I expected never came. There was only a cold, spreading numbness. I even managed a slight smile. “Are you done?” Stella clearly hadn’t anticipated this reaction. She blinked, then her expression hardened, as if I had personally insulted her. “Of course not!” she snapped. “Nina, let me be clear. Arthur is sick of you! He told me himself that the sight of your pathetic, half-dead face makes him lose his appetite!” The sharp crack of my hand against her cheek echoed in the quiet street. Stella’s head snapped to the side, her face a mask of pure shock. A bright red handprint quickly began to bloom on her skin. “You… you hit me?!” she shrieked in disbelief. “Nina, you psycho, do you have any idea who I am?!” I flexed my tingling right hand and stared at her, my face a blank mask. “Is there a problem? A bitch like you deserves to be hit.” She was trembling with rage. “Fine! Just fine! Nina, you just wait. I’m calling the police. I’ll make you…” “Do whatever you want,” I cut her off. Then I turned and walked away without looking back. I went to the little clinic and quit the job I’d held for three years. Stepping outside, the sunlight felt surprisingly good. I took out my phone and deleted the photo of Arthur and me on the beach that I used as my wallpaper. Then I opened my contacts and blocked his number, Stella’s number, everyone connected to them. It was clean, decisive. Not a moment of hesitation. I knew that from the moment the truth was revealed, some things could never be salvaged. And now, it was my turn.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390585”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the aviation world, everyone knew Mrs. Lancaster played her part to perfection. When gossip about my husband’s first-class flings spread through the industry, I was the one to clear the air. When a mistress made a scene in the VIP lounge demanding recognition, I was the one to smooth things over with a quiet settlement. Everyone said I loved Arthur Lancaster without reservation, without a single boundary. He believed it too. Which is why his hunts at thirty thousand feet became more and more reckless. Until she appeared. This time was different. Arthur put aside his usual games. He treated her like she was precious, one of a kind. The girl was frail, prone to dizzy spells and nausea, so he asked me to look after her. Staring at the red flag on her health screening—”HIV Antibody Preliminary Test: POSITIVE”—I gently deleted the record. From then on, I not only gave up my slots on the most coveted international routes but also encouraged Arthur to spend more time with her, to show her the world. “That’s my girl,” he praised me. “I knew you’d understand.” I accepted his praise with a smile. And watched as they fell deeper into their nightly embraces, and deeper into the abyss I had prepared for them. 1 After dealing with his thirteenth mistress, I leaned against the doorframe of his office. Arthur Lancaster was lounging in his plush leather executive chair, idly spinning a sleek fountain pen between his fingers. His eyes danced with amusement as they settled on me. “Seraphina, so cooperative,” he mused. “You’re playing the part better than ever.” I turned away, pulling a small bottle of hand sanitizer from my purse and meticulously cleansing the hand he had just touched. “Am I?” My voice was flat. “It’s not as if you’re going to stop.” He chuckled, tossing the pen onto the vast mahogany desk. “You should have realized that long ago.” He stood, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “For families like ours, marriage eventually becomes a partnership of separate lives. It’s best you’ve come to terms with it. Saves us both the embarrassment.” I watched in silence as he fastened the Vacheron Constantin watch to his wrist. Five years of marriage hadn’t dulled his sharp good looks. He still carried the undeniable swagger of the crown prince of aviation, an allure in his eyes that made young flight attendants flock to him like moths to a flame. “Not coming home tonight?” I asked. “Nope.” He picked up his suit jacket, the one I’d given him for his birthday last year. “Why? Got something planned?” I shook my head. “Just asking.” He shrugged, but paused at the door. “Oh, right. There’s an industry summit next Friday. I need you there with me. Make sure you look good. The press has been hounding me lately.” “Alright.” The door clicked shut. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows for a long moment, waiting until his black Maybach pulled away from the Lancaster Aviation tower, disappearing into the river of evening traffic. Then I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “He’s gone,” I said. “You can come in now.” Five minutes later, three figures in full hazmat suits entered the office. They moved with quiet efficiency, collecting stray coffee cups and papers, wiping down every surface with medical-grade disinfectant. They stripped the covers from the sofa, sealing them in biohazard bags. The woman in charge nodded at me. “Mrs. Lancaster, we’re finished. Viral inactivation is at 99.99%.” “Thank you,” I said. “Be meticulous with anything he touched. I want it all completely sanitized.” “Understood.” I stepped out of the office, closing the door behind me. The hallway lights gleamed on the cream marble floors. On the wall hung our wedding portrait. I was in a custom couture gown, my smile poised and gracious. Arthur’s arm was wrapped around my waist, his eyes brimming with what looked like adoration. Back then, we were the golden couple of the aviation world. Now, this building was a gallery of his conquests, haunted by the lingering traces of different perfumes, lipstick stains… and viruses. It was his lovers who had cost me my career. An “accident” during a flight, orchestrated by one of them, had left me with permanent spinal damage. I could never fly again. I gave the portrait one last, placid look, then turned and walked away. Back at our penthouse, a cake box sat on the dining table. I opened it, placed a single candle in the center, and lit the wick. The small flame flickered, casting dancing shadows across my face. Arthur only remembered his date tonight, a romantic rendezvous with his new flame to watch the city lights. He had, as usual, forgotten that today was our fifth wedding anniversary. And my birthday. I stared at the tiny fire for a long time before blowing it out. The truth was, I had been ready to file for divorce. The lawyers were on standby, the papers drawn up. But now, I’d had a change of heart. I wanted his billion-dollar aviation empire. I wanted the entire Lancaster dynasty. And I wanted him dead. 2 For five straight days, Arthur didn’t come home. But his new plaything, Faye, seemed to believe she’d been granted a special privilege: tormenting me with texts, right on schedule. [Mrs. Lancaster, he says I know how to please him so much better than you do~] [Mrs. Lancaster, he says he’s sick of uptight socialites like you!] [He’s not coming home again tonight. Must be lonely in that big empty apartment, huh?] I didn’t reply to a single one. I just took my medication on schedule, went to my appointments at the private clinic for a full battery of tests, and had my assistant file away the results. On the evening of the sixth day, Arthur called. I was in a VIP room at the clinic, having just had the eighth vial of blood drawn. His voice on the other end was low, laced with the lazy satisfaction of a man fresh from bed. “Seraphina, there’s an interview with Aviation Weekly tomorrow. I need you to come to the office and clear something up about Faye.” I paused for a beat. “Clear what up?” “Just say she’s my cousin. New to the company, needs a little guidance, so she’s training with me,” Arthur said. “You know how it is. She’s young, can’t handle the gossip.” I glanced down at the purple-blue pinprick on the back of my hand. “Fine,” I said. He audibly relaxed. “You’re the best,” he said, his tone softening. “Should I come home tonight? It’s been a while. I miss you, babe.” “I haven’t been feeling well the last couple of days,” I cut in. “I had some tests done. The doctor said I need to rest.” The line went quiet for a second. “Oh. Alright then.” He sounded disappointed, but his usual careless tone quickly returned. “Get some sleep.” After hanging up, I stared at the dark screen of my phone, a cold smile touching my lips. He probably thought I was saving myself for him. The fool had no idea I just found him utterly filthy. The next day’s interview was held at the Lancaster Aviation headquarters. The press turned out in droves, a sea of cameras and microphones aimed at the industry’s model couple. I was on Arthur’s arm, impeccably dressed in a Dior suit, my smile warm and gracious. When a reporter asked about the rumored affair, Arthur shot me a nervous glance. I took the microphone from him. “It’s all a misunderstanding,” I said, my voice smooth as silk. “Miss Faye is my husband’s cousin. She’s new to the company and requires some training, so she’s staying with us for the time being. I hope we can all give the young woman some space and avoid any undue speculation.” Another reporter pushed, “Mrs. Lancaster, does it really not bother you at all?” I turned to Arthur, my eyes filled with a look of pure trust and devotion. “Of course not. I trust my husband completely.” I felt his grip tighten on my arm. But halfway through the interview, his phone buzzed. Arthur glanced at the screen, and the color drained from his face. He shot to his feet without even a look in my direction. “My apologies, a sudden emergency,” he announced to the room before turning and striding away. I was left sitting alone, the microphone still in my hand. A murmur went through the crowd of reporters. Someone shouted, “Mr. Lancaster, is it about Miss Faye? We heard she wasn’t feeling well!” His pace faltered for a fraction of a second. Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the spotlight to clean up his mess and finish playing my part in our charade of a happy marriage. After the press had cleared out, my assistant approached me cautiously. “Ma’am, are you alright?” I stood and smoothed down my skirt. “I’m perfectly fine.” And I was. Because I knew he had just pushed me one step closer to the finish line. He didn’t come home that night. He only sent a single text: [She has a fever. I’m at the hospital. Go to sleep.] I typed back a single word: [Okay.] Then, after a moment’s thought, I sent another. [My mother isn’t well. I’m flying back to New York tomorrow. I’ll probably be there for a month.] [Do you want me to come with you?] he replied. [No, you’re busy. I can handle it.] [Okay.] After sending the message, I let out a slow breath and set my phone aside, turning my attention back to the latest report from my private physician. The words on the page were clear and precise: Virus has passed the window period. Subject is now highly contagious. Carrier is exhibiting initial symptoms. 3 The next morning, I left the penthouse. As the car pulled out of the garage, I caught a glimpse of the building in the rearview mirror. It had been my home for five years. The sky was a hazy blue-gray, the morning fog not yet burned away by the sun. The terrace was filled with white jasmine. He had hired a designer from France to create it for me years ago, all because I’d once casually mentioned I liked the fragrance. The crown prince of aviation had built the most lavish private garden in the city for me. Business journals had written about it for months. We were the golden couple. I remembered laughing, telling him, “This is so extravagant. People will say you’re completely under my spell.” He had kissed me then. “I want the entire world to know that my wife, Seraphina Lancaster, deserves the very best of everything.” The very best of everything. I tore my eyes away from the mirror and settled back into the soft leather seat, closing my eyes. Now, a revolving door of women came and went from that home, and I was the only one who still paid the gardeners to tend to the flowers. Our home had long since become his playground. I didn’t fly to New York. I was driven to Seabrook Sanctuary, a private wellness retreat on the Connecticut coast. My doctor was waiting. “Mrs. Lancaster, all your tests came back negative,” he said, flipping through my file. “But to be absolutely safe, I recommend a one-month period of isolated observation.” “I understand,” I nodded. “As for Mr. Lancaster…” he hesitated. “Continue to monitor him,” I finished for him. “Notify me immediately of any developments.” I settled into the most secluded villa at the sanctuary. My days fell into a quiet, peaceful routine: check-ups, medication, reading industry reports, and long walks along the shore. I was patient. I was waiting for a countdown to end. On the seventh night, Arthur called. It was the first time he had contacted me since I’d left. The background was loud, like he was at a club. “Where are you?” he asked, his tone impatient. “New York,” I lied. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?” he demanded. “I’m not feeling great. Probably just exhausted from work. When are you coming back?” “I’m not sure,” I said softly. “My mother’s condition is unstable.” He was clearly annoyed but managed to keep his temper in check. “Fine. Just take care of yourself.” Right before he hung up, he added, “Oh, by the way, Faye’s out of the hospital. She has nowhere to go, so I let her move into the penthouse. She’s staying in your bedroom. Don’t read too much into it when you get back.” I hummed in agreement. Of course I wouldn’t read too much into it. It was, after all, the tomb I had chosen for them.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390584”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The moment the zombie apocalypse hit, my husband turned our basement into a doomsday bunker. But my best friend died getting me inside, and my husband was killed on a supply run. Before dying, he yelled through the steel door, warning: “Don’t come out! It’s crawling with zombies! Stay inside and live a good life with the baby!” I stayed in that dark basement for three months. When supplies ran out, I tried to escape—throwing myself against the heavy iron door. What greeted me wasn’t zombies, but sunlight. No apocalypse. Standing there were my husband—alive—kissing my best friend in a wedding gown. And me, in a hazmat suit, holding a wrench, looking like something from the depths. It was all a lie—a twisted plan to trap me while he ran off with her. Just as I prepared to fight back, I heard a tiny voice in my head—from my own womb: [Mom, I’m from the future. The zombies are real. The outbreak is in one week!] … “Zombies?” When I spat the word out, Marcus looked at me as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “Only an idiot like you would fall for that,” he sneered. “It was just some bullshit I made up to lock you in the basement.” “Honestly, I was hoping you’d starve to death down there, you and the baby. One neat package, no mess for us to clean up. I have to admit, you’re tougher than I thought, crawling out of there with that parasite in you.” My mind went completely blank. “How can it be fake? I saw a zombie bite Veronica’s neck with my own eyes. There was so much blood…” I looked at Veronica’s neck. The skin was smooth and flawless. There was no gruesome wound, only a fresh, red hickey. I was utterly lost. “Hahahaha!” Veronica couldn’t hold it in any longer, doubling over with laughter. “Aurora, pregnancy really has made you stupid. You can’t even tell the difference between a zombie costume and a packet of fake blood?” She swiped through her phone’s photo gallery, showing me the screen. On it was a picture of a hyper-realistic zombie suit. Marcus wrapped his arm around Veronica’s waist. “Vivi and I have been together for a long time. You were in the way, so we came up with this little plan to get rid of you. Get it now?” It was all an act. A meticulously staged play to make me believe the world had ended. For three agonizing months, every single day had been a torment of guilt, blaming myself for their deaths. Now, thinking back, I felt like the biggest fool on earth. “Marcus, this is false imprisonment! I can sue you!” “Sue me?” Marcus pointed smugly to a small memorial niche in the corner of the room. Inside, there was a black-and-white photo of me. “You’ve been missing for three months. Everyone thinks you’re dead. We even held a funeral for you.” “Legally, you don’t exist anymore. You don’t even have the standing to sue.” Veronica sidled up to me, her voice a menacing whisper. “Your sprawling downtown apartment, the dozens of luxury cars in the garage, the company you worked so hard to build… it’s all in our names now.” “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk away and disappear. Don’t make a scene. If you cause any more trouble, we’ll just call the cops and tell them you’ve had a psychotic break. We’ll have you committed, and you’ll never see the sun again.” Marcus let out a fake sigh, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “Aurora, you can’t blame us. You can only blame yourself for being so gullible. Who actually believes in a zombie apocalypse?” “But, for old times’ sake, I can be generous. You can have the basement.” My hand tightened around the wrench. A single thought consumed me: to smash it into their two hideous faces, to drag them down with me. But just then, a soft, tiny voice echoed in my mind again. [A fully-equipped, zombie-proof doomsday bunker, free of charge? This is a jackpot! Mommy, take the deal!] The sudden voice startled me, but I realized it was coming from the baby in my belly. “You’re… my child?” [Yes! I traveled back from the future! The zombies are real! We need to hurry and stock up on supplies. There’s no more time to waste!] But I had just learned the apocalypse was a lie. How could I believe it again so easily? The voice grew urgent. [If you don’t believe me, Mommy, go to a lottery vendor right now!] After a moment of hesitation, I walked to the convenience store at the entrance of our gated community. Following the numbers whispered in my mind, I bought a ticket. At 7 PM, the winning numbers were announced. They matched my ticket. Perfectly. The jackpot: one hundred million dollars. [Now do you believe me, Mommy? I really am from the future, and the zombies are really coming!] [There are six days and twenty-three hours until the apocalypse begins. We need to use this money and start hoarding! I want to eat ham in the future, not zombie jerky!] In that moment, all doubt vanished. I believed every word from my unborn child. And I began to look forward to that day. Marcus, I hope you don’t regret today’s decision when you find out the zombies are real. The irony was that Marcus, in his effort to make his lie believable, had spared no expense on the basement. The concrete walls were reinforced with steel I-beams. The entrance was a custom-made blast door with three deadbolts and a fingerprint scanner. It had a state-of-the-art air filtration system, a groundwater collection system, and a backup generator. The prison he had so carefully designed for me had just become my five-star shelter for the real end of the world. Seven days. It wasn’t much time, but it was enough. With the winning lottery ticket in hand, my first thought was to get my parents. In an apocalypse, blood is the only thing you can trust. But when I used my key to open their front door, I froze. The entryway was cluttered with shoes I didn’t recognize. The family portrait on the living room wall was gone, replaced by a wedding photo of Marcus’s parents. If my key hadn’t worked, I would have thought I was at the wrong house. My in-laws shot up from the couch, grabbing a broom and swinging it at me. “You curse! Weren’t you already dead? What are you doing back here?!” I dodged the blow, my voice ice-cold. “Where are my parents?” “You have the nerve to ask?” my father-in-law spat. “You worried them sick! They’re locked up in a psychiatric hospital!” My mother-in-law shrieked, “If I had a disgraceful daughter like you, I’d go crazy too!” CRACK. Perhaps it was years of pent-up rage finally exploding, but I slapped her across the face. Without another glance at them, I spun around and sprinted out the door, heading for the hospital. The moment my parents saw me, they froze, their faces a mask of disbelief. “Aurora… is it really you? You’re alive?” A lump formed in my throat, a thousand words stuck in my chest. As we sat down, I finally learned what had happened over the past three months. Marcus had told everyone I’d run off with another man, even claiming the baby wasn’t his. Then, he’d somehow obtained a death certificate for me, legally seizing all my assets before marrying Veronica. The double blow of grief and betrayal had broken my parents’ health. And Marcus, seeing his chance, had forged medical documents and had them committed. I told them everything: the elaborate lie, Marcus and Veronica’s betrayal, and the coming apocalypse. As I finished, my heart was in my throat. After all, I’d already been imprisoned for three months because I believed in this very story. To my surprise, my dad shot to his feet, his eyes resolute. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go buy supplies!” Seeing my stunned expression, my mom smiled. “Sweetheart, you’re our only daughter. Who else would we believe? And if the apocalypse doesn’t happen, we’ll just sell the supplies at a discount!” The baby’s voice piped up in my head. [Grandpa and Grandma are the best! Let’s go, Mommy, we only have six days and twenty hours left!] There was no time to lose. I took my parents straight to the city’s largest warehouse supermarket. Drawing on his experience running a factory, my dad ordered tons of rice, flour, oil, and frozen meat under the guise of a corporate purchase. Worried about spoilage, I bought mountains of instant noodles, self-heating meals, and compressed biscuits. Mom gathered vitamins, first-aid supplies, toiletries, and even quietly added several boxes of baby formula and diapers to our cart. The next day, Dad brought in a construction crew and secretly dug an escape tunnel from the other side of the basement out to the woods behind the property. The entrance to the bunker wasn’t far from Marcus’s villa. Veronica and Marcus stood on their porch, watching truck after truck of supplies being unloaded, their faces etched with mockery. “Aurora, are you really making that dump your home? Planning to hide in there with those two old geezers for the rest of your life?” Marcus’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I think she’s really lost it. We made up some stupid story about the end of the world, and she’s gone so deep into character she thinks she’s the star of a prepper novel.” Veronica was shaking with laughter. “It’ll be hilarious when she’s squatting in the dark, eating expired ramen after blowing through her parents’ retirement savings, while we’re upstairs eating tomahawk steaks.” I stared coldly at the two clowns. Five days. In five days, the luxury cars, designer brands, and social status they cherished would be nothing but scrap metal. And the magnificent villa they were so proud of would become the coffin they had chosen for themselves. Ignoring them, I helped my parents move the last of the supplies into the bunker. The space was vast, more than enough for the three of us. I thought we had prepared for everything, but my baby’s voice, sharp with urgency, spoke again. [Mommy, the day the zombies appear, there will be a massive rainstorm! The bunker is low-lying! Buy sump pumps, now, or we’ll all drown!] A jolt of fear went through me. I quickly checked the weather forecast. Sure enough, a severe storm warning was predicted for five days from now. I immediately ordered four industrial-grade, high-power sump pumps. Dad also had his crew dig a concealed drainage channel around the entrance overnight. The construction noise woke Veronica. She stood on her balcony, filming us with her phone. A sense of dread washed over me. Sure enough, half an hour later, I came across a livestream. In it, Veronica was pointing her camera at our bunker entrance, her voice dripping with scorn. “Hey everyone, check this out! My best friend had a little breakdown and now she thinks the zombies are coming. She’s not just hoarding supplies, she’s digging trenches! It’s so ridiculous.” The stream’s viewership skyrocketed. The comments flew by. [Someone’s read too many apocalypse novels. Does she think this is fiction?] [If my neighbor hoards grain, I hoard guns. My neighbor is my granary. If zombies do show up, the streamer can just go raid them.] Reading the comments, my palms grew sweaty. My parents’ faces were grim. “Just having supplies isn’t enough,” my dad said. “When the world ends, there’s no law and order. A stash like this is just a death warrant.” But all we could find were knives and axes, useless in a real apocalypse. As we sat there, worried, the baby spoke again. [Mommy, go find Uncle Nash! His family has the ‘big toys’!] Nash? My sharp-tongued high school classmate who’d gone abroad to work in private security and international trade? [Yep! Contact him now, Mommy! Before it’s too late!] I sent him a text. [Nash, can you get your hands on anything for self-defense? The world is ending.] He replied instantly. [Lost a game of truth or dare? Or did you get hacked? The end of the world? You might as well tell me the aliens have landed and they need gift cards.] My heart sank. But then my phone buzzed again. [Why’d you go quiet? Are you actually in trouble?] [Send me your address. Now.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390583”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My dad suddenly wanted to go on a trip to Blackwood National Forest. He also bought me a life insurance policy. The payout amount was terrifyingly high. He said I was the backbone of the family and deserved to be prioritized. He even made a point of telling my brother to take extra good care of me that day. I was overwhelmed. I didn’t just scout the route and plan the trip in advance; I secretly bought massive policies for him and the rest of the family, too. One accident, a ten-million-dollar payout. After all, this was my second time around. I already knew what it was like to go hiking with them. I knew exactly how horribly I would die. … “See, honey? Who’s Dad’s favorite?!” “The whole family got insurance, but yours has the biggest payout by far.” The moment the insurance agent left, my dad started trying to take credit. After all, everyone else’s premium was a few hundred dollars. Mine was ten thousand. Getting him to part with ten grand was like pulling teeth. I kept my head down, scrolling through my phone without a word. “What, you’re not happy?” “Come on, have a beer with your old man. Let’s talk.” He patted my head, grabbing a couple of beers and a bowl of peanuts, waving me over. Whenever I was troubled, he’d always been a good listener. This would be our last heart-to-heart. “Dad, I don’t want to go hiking,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “I want to go to the coast.” “We’re surrounded by mountains here. There’s no need to travel so far just to hike somewhere else.” “I’d rather see the ocean.” “Wouldn’t wading in the water and collecting seashells be more relaxing than climbing a mountain?” My dad’s hand paused, the beer glass halfway to his lips. He glanced at me, then looked down and took a long drink. “What’s there to see at the ocean? A rogue wave could sweep you away and no one would ever find you.” “But the mountains… it’s a contained space. No matter what happens, they’ll always find you.” Find my body, you mean? A cold laugh echoed in my mind. In my last life, not only did they fail to find me, they complained that I was useless even in death. “That’s final,” my dad said, his guilt giving way to irritation. He stood and walked out of the room. My heart plunged into an icy abyss, all warmth extinguished. His plan was just as ruthless as before. My brother, Kyle, looked at me, exasperated. “Sis, you really don’t appreciate anything, do you?” “Dad spent ten thousand dollars on you, and you can’t even say thank you? Now you want to go to the beach?” “Do you have any idea how much that would cost? You should be grateful we’re going hiking at all.” I laughed, a tremor running through my entire body. “You’re right. Dad is the best. I should be on my knees, thanking my lucky stars for all of you.” Kyle was speechless, just staring at me. My mom came out and slapped me hard on the back. “What’s that supposed to mean, you ungrateful brat? Everyone knows your father loves you the most.” “Just because you didn’t get your way, you’re going to throw a tantrum?” “Have you ever seen him spend money on anyone the way he does on you? That was ten thousand dollars!” Yes. Ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars would be a nice contribution to my brother’s wedding fund, but it was a drop in the bucket for a house and a car. So, they decided to make a bigger bet. They were leveraging ten thousand dollars at a thousand-to-one return, and my life was the price. With the payout, they’d have a house, a car, a daughter-in-law, even enough for retirement. What a profitable business. The happiness of an entire family, all for the low cost of one daughter. He really was so good to me. I stood up, brushing off non-existent dust, and walked toward the door. “Where are you going?” my mom yelled after me. “What? Can’t handle a little criticism?” “I’m going to buy Dad some BBQ ribs.” “Can’t let that ten thousand go to waste.” I didn’t look back. “That’s more like it! And get me some beef brisket, and a couple pounds of chili dogs for my son.” “That’s his favorite!” I agreed to it all. After all, this would be the last time they’d ever eat anything I bought for them. Consider it my final offering to the dead. 2 I ducked into an alley and pulled out my phone, opening the hidden camera app. The moment I was out the door, my dad had come right back in. “She didn’t suspect anything, did she?” my brother asked nervously. “I’m scared she’ll hit me.” My dad’s face darkened. “You’re pathetic.” My mom scurried to the door, peered out both ways, and shut it tight. “She’s gone, right?” “My heart is pounding.” My dad sat back down, unconcerned. “Long gone. You’re as useless as your son.” “She’s an adopted girl. She costs more than anyone else in this family. She should be grateful.” “If she weren’t so stubborn, this wouldn’t be necessary. She wouldn’t sleep with our boy, and she wouldn’t agree to marry that old creep Thompson. If we could have gotten the money from that, would I have to go to all this trouble?” He punctuated his rant with a kick to my brother’s shin. “You coward. Can’t even get a girl into bed.” My brother clutched his leg, whining. “Her pants were too tight, I couldn’t get them off.” “And she’s strong! She hits hard.” My mom pulled Kyle into her arms, glaring at my dad. “Why are you kicking my son? Go kick that ungrateful wolf.” “After all these years we’ve raised her! She won’t marry our son, fine. But she won’t even let us use her to get some money for him! It’s infuriating!” “I say we should have just tied her up and let him have his way. Once she had the baby, what could she do?” Kyle trembled in my mother’s embrace. “Mom, I’m scared of her! I don’t want to do it!” My mom soothed him while her voice turned venomous. “Just thinking about her makes me furious. Last time she kicked my son in the family jewels, almost made him a eunuch.” “Just wait until we get into those mountains. I’ll show her.” She turned back to Kyle. “Don’t worry, sweetie. After we get the insurance money, Mom will find you a beautiful influencer to marry.” My dad shot them a look, but a smirk played on his lips. The three of them began to dream aloud about the wonderful life they’d have once they were rich. I shut off my phone, my face a blank mask. That evening, I returned with all their favorite foods. My dad smiled, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a hunter who has tamed his prey. As he ate, he started his usual brainwashing. “Your mother and I have worked hard our whole lives to put you through college. You may only be a gym teacher, but at least it’s a stable state job. Your brother isn’t very bright. Your mother and I will have to rely on you in the future.” I ate my rice in silence. My dad’s eyes shifted. “Still mad about what happened?” He stood up, went to the kitchen, and came back with a meat cleaver. He held it out to me. “Here, honey. Take it.” “Your brother lost his mind and did something unforgivable. It’s my fault. Today, if it’ll make you feel better, you can cut him. Hell, you can chop him to pieces for all I care!” My mom froze, trying to grab the knife, but my dad shoved her aside. “It’s because of you, you useless shrew, that he turned out to be such a coward!” “That’s his sister! How could he do something so despicable?!” “Go on, honey. Whatever you do, I’ll support you.” I took the knife and looked at him, staring him straight in the eyes. “Really? You’ll support me, no matter what I do?” His gaze flickered for a moment, then he gritted his teeth. “That’s right. Your old man’s word is his bond!” I held the knife and turned to my brother. I stared at him until his legs started to shake and a dark patch spread across the front of his pants. The smell of urine filled the air as he collapsed to the floor, trembling. “Don’t… don’t kill me…” I suddenly felt bored. I tossed the cleaver onto the floor near his feet. He shrieked and passed out. I looked back at my dad. I saw a flash of murderous intent in his eyes before it was replaced by his usual harmless, folksy expression. “Dad, I forgive him.” “And I’ll go with you to Blackwood National Forest.” 3 We had just reached the foothills of Blackwood when, without warning, a light rain began to fall. The mountains in the distance were shrouded in a thick mist, like a veil separating them from the outside world, instilling a sense of dread for the unknown within. It was exactly like my past life. Last time, my dad led us into the protected nature reserve through a remote, unofficial entrance. He insisted on camping, on taking me and my brother deep into the forest to “explore.” He said that if we were going to make the trip, we had to make it worth the ticket price. I was afraid of bugs, and even more terrified of the leeches that would latch onto my legs and drink my blood, dozens of them, like tiny vampires. But I was afraid my family would be in danger, so I forced myself to follow. I never imagined that they were the real danger. This time, I would seize the initiative. As soon as we reached a flat clearing for our camp, I spoke up. “Dad, I saw online that there are some ancient ruins over to the right. Let’s go check them out.” My dad glanced to the left, a conflicted look on his face. “Come on, let’s go! Mom can stay here and rest. Maybe we can hunt a rabbit for dinner.” “It’s not worth the bus fare if we don’t have some fun.” With that, I grabbed my backpack and started walking to the right. After a moment of silence, my dad gave in. “Alright. Your mom will rest here. Your brother and I will go exploring with you.” “Slow down, be careful not to slip.” He quickly caught up and walked ahead of me, while my brother followed about three paces behind. They had me boxed in. “Dad, the path is slippery. Be careful,” I said calmly. “Mmm.” We walked for about an hour, deep into the forest. Though it was midday, the canopy was so thick that it felt like dusk. As my dad scouted the path ahead, I slowed my pace until I was walking alongside my brother. Kyle practically jumped out of his skin when I got close. I reached out and steadied him, reminding him to watch his step, then started making casual conversation. “So, Kyle, have Mom and Dad set you up on any dates lately?” His voice trembled. “They tried. I didn’t want to go.” “Sis, I won’t go in your room again. I’m scared of you.” He looked terrified, his hands protectively covering his crotch. I gently moved his hands away, telling him with a kind expression that I had already forgiven him, and that I hoped he’d get married soon. “When you have kids, I’ll be an aunt. I’ll have to give my nephew a big gift.” “Really?” The mention of money made Kyle’s eyes light up, but his face fell just as quickly. He said the family didn’t have any money, and no girl would want him. “They say I’m stupid and poor. They’d rather sleep with a log.” I stifled a laugh and continued to soothe him. When the time was right, I told him the real reason his dad had brought him here. “I saw that Dad bought himself a ten-million-dollar insurance policy. He said you’ll get the money when he dies.” “You could marry five wives with that, let alone one!” Kyle’s face lit up with joy, then confusion. “Dad didn’t tell me that. He said you were the one who—” He clamped his hand over his mouth. “Dad told me not to tell you. It’s a secret.” “He said that if I died, you’d all get the payout, right?” I asked casually. Kyle’s jaw dropped. “Sis, how did you know?” “How do you think?” I rolled my eyes. “Dad told me, of course. He also told me not to tell you.” Kyle’s face flushed with anger. “He always thinks I’m stupid! He never tells me anything! All he ever does is hit me and kick me.” Seeing his resentment, I patted his shoulder. “Hey, Dad’s going through a lot. He has a terminal illness, you know. He just doesn’t want to worry us.” Kyle’s eyes turned red. “Dad… Dad’s dying—” His emotions were at their peak. It was time for the final push. “Dad said that if he can’t bring himself to do it, he hopes you’ll give him a little push.” “Kyle, you’re the only man in the family now. You’re the one who has to be strong.” “Don’t let him down this time.” I looked at him with an expression full of hope. Kyle’s spirits lifted. He raised his hand as if taking an oath. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll complete the mission Dad gave me!” “This time, I’ll show him— I’m not a coward!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390582”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My best friend discovered her husband’s old flame a year after their wedding. The woman ruined her life. Left with nothing, she sank into a year-long depression. Visiting her, she clutched my hand, crying: “If I’d known, I would’ve died before marrying him.” When my father arranged my marriage, I researched Sean Blackwood thoroughly. Perfect reputation, no past lovers, clean break from exes. Only odd detail: the Blackwoods adopted a girl ten years ago, studying abroad since. My father brushed it off: “She’s just his adopted sister. They set up a trust fund for her at eighteen—enough to live comfortably abroad.” I married Sean. But on our third wedding anniversary night, he brought his adopted sister home. She timidly opened our bedroom door, wearing a thin white nightgown. “Brother, it’s so quiet here… I’m scared to be alone…” Sean sighed, got out of bed, and told me to go back to sleep. I sat alone in the dark for hours. Then I invited over a dozen models to throw a party at our home. 1 The sound of music and laughter was what finally drew Sean out of the guest room. “Get out!” His voice was deceptively calm, but it sent a chill down everyone’s spine. The handsome men scrambled away like frightened animals, leaving just the two of us in the vast living room. “What is the meaning of this?” Sean frowned, his gaze fixed on me. Behind him stood Lily, still wrapped in that scandalously short, white lace nightdress, her long hair framing a picture of delicate innocence. I lounged comfortably on the sofa, crossing my legs and swirling the wine in my glass. “Isn’t your little sister scared of being alone? I just found her some company.” Lily’s face went pale. “What do you take me for!” I smiled, a bright, sharp thing, and enunciated each word with chilling clarity. “A shameless little tramp trying to seduce her own brother.” Sean’s expression turned to ice. “Rebecca Pierce.” Lily’s eyes welled with tears, her body trembling with rage. “What right do you have to talk to me! Everyone knows what a player you were! You’re a slut! If it weren’t for the marriage contract between our families, my brother would never have married a woman like you!” “Lily, that’s enough!” She froze, hurt flashing across her face before the tears began to fall. “You’re yelling at me? You’re yelling at me for her? Didn’t you hear how she insulted me? Fine, I’ll leave! I’ll leave right now!” The girl made a dramatic dash for the door, her pathetic excuse for a nightgown threatening to fall apart with every overwrought step. Sean’s frown deepened. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to her room before finally turning his attention back to me. “Go to bed.” I didn’t move, just watched him with a cold smile. He sighed, a note of exhaustion in his voice. “I’m tired, Rebecca. I’m really, really tired. Can we not do this right now?” “Did you hear what your sister called me?” “Lily’s young. She doesn’t always think before she speaks. I’ll apologize on her behalf.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “She’s not wrong, though. It’s true. Our families are well-matched, this was a business merger, the contract was signed a long time ago. But I, Rebecca Pierce, was a player. I was never short on men, especially the handsome ones.” The warmth drained from Sean’s eyes, leaving them cold and hard. He pinned me against the sofa, his kiss a punishment, his voice a low growl. “Rebecca, need I remind you that you are now my wife?” I laughed, but my eyes were burning and my voice trembled despite my best efforts. “But don’t you forget! Who was the one who dragged me out of bars night after night? Who was the one who shamelessly declared himself my fiancé to every man who looked at me? Who was the one who begged and pleaded for me to marry him?” Sean pulled me into his arms, his voice softening. “It was me. It was always me. I couldn’t live without you.” I shoved him away and slammed the bedroom door shut. “Sean, it’s her or me. Get her out of this house by tomorrow.” The next morning. Lily, wearing one of Sean’s dress shirts, greeted me cheerfully at the dining table. “Hi, sister-in-law! Good morning!” I froze in place. 2 Sean, who hadn’t set foot in the kitchen once in our three years of marriage, was standing at the stove, wearing an apron and stirring a pot of soup. “You have to try this, Rebecca! Sean’s fish soup is the best. Whenever I’m feeling down, one sip of his soup makes everything better!” Yesterday she was calling me a slut; today she was beaming, showing off how indispensable Sean was to her. And Sean acted as if nothing had happened. “You’re awake? Come, sit.” I took a deep breath, fighting down the wave of rage and pain rising in my chest, and pulled out my phone. “Get my breakfast ready,” I snapped to my new assistant. “On my desk by nine. Sharp.” Without another glance, I turned and walked out. Behind me, I heard Lily’s whining complaint. “I was trying to be nice to her. What more does she want? Fine, don’t eat it. Sean made it for me anyway.” On the way to the office, I called my brother. “I want a divorce.” “Are you kidding me?” I clutched my handbag, my knuckles white. “I’m not kidding.” My brother sounded incredulous. “Did Sean… agree? He went through hell to marry you…” “His opinion doesn’t matter,” I cut him off. “I want a divorce.” “Alright. Give me a month. I’ll get everything ready for you.” I tossed my phone aside. On that humiliating morning, I had made my decision. I would let Sean have his manipulative little snake. After the morning meeting, a huge bouquet of my favorite yellow roses arrived from Sean. I gave them a cursory glance before handing them to my new assistant. “Here, they’re yours.” Then I pulled out a credit card and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “The breakfast was perfect. A little bonus for you.” The assistant smiled, accepting both gifts without a hint of hesitation. “Thank you, boss.” Sean watched him leave, his face a calm mask. Then he cornered me against my desk. “You know exactly how to push my buttons. Is this your idea of revenge?” 3 I scoffed. “If I wanted revenge, I wouldn’t have given him a credit card. It would have been the keys to my private villa.” Sean’s expression was weary. “I postponed a full day of meetings to come see you. Are you still angry?” He pulled me into an embrace. “Rebecca, what are you so angry about?” I almost laughed out loud. I had been seething all night, and he had no idea why? I held out my phone for him to see. It was a friend request from Lily. Her profile picture was new, taken just this morning. In it, she was still wearing Sean’s shirt, surrounded by a sea of yellow roses, her face cupped playfully in her hands. “The breakfast. You made it for her, not for me. We’ve been married for three years, and you’ve never once cooked.” “The flowers. You send me one bouquet, and she pesters you until she gets an entire field of them. Am I wrong?” Sean was silent for a moment before he spoke. “If this is what it’s about, I can cook for you tonight. I can send you…” “Enough!” I cut him off, my voice shaking with fury. “Sean, don’t you get it? Lily is crossing a line! And you, you’re letting her! You’re letting her run wild and destroy what we have!” He looked at me as if I were insane. “Rebecca, what are you talking about? She’s just my sister.” “I’m my brother’s sister too,” I retorted coldly. “But I don’t prance around his house in a nightgown that short. I don’t, as a grown woman, need him to tuck me in at night. And I certainly don’t leave a bite mark just below his collarbone.” Sean flinched, his hand instinctively going to his neck. “Did you think I didn’t see it last night?” He tried to laugh it off, a strained, frustrated sound. “She’s always been like that, ever since she was a kid. Like a puppy, always nipping at people.” I held up a hand. “Stop. I don’t want to hear about your past. And don’t you forget, she is not your real sister.” He paused. “She’s not. But please, don’t twist our relationship into something so sordid.” I laughed, a harsh, broken sound, and pushed him away. “Get. Out.” But a slow smile spread across Sean’s face. He leaned in close, his eyes dancing. “Rebecca, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this jealous.” “I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her to be more mindful of her actions.” “Don’t be angry anymore, please?” He knew exactly how to soothe me when I was spitting fire. I was about to say something, to give in, when his phone rang. The caller ID read: Lily. 4 Sean answered, murmuring a few distracted phrases into the phone. After hanging up, he took my hand. “I’ll call my parents and have her move back home.” His warm lips brushed against my ear. “Come home early tonight. What do you want to eat? This time, I’ll cook just for you.” My mind flashed back to the past. To him, pulling me out of a bar, his eyes red-rimmed. To the helpless, pleading look on his face as he asked, “Rebecca, what do I have to do to make you look at me, to just see me?” A lump formed in my throat. “Alright, Sean. I’ll trust you one more time.” “But if you lie to me again.” “I will never, ever forgive you.” He smiled, a genuine, relieved smile, and gently kissed my damp eyelids. “Rebecca, I have never lied to you.” That evening, I returned home to find Sean wasn’t back yet. Lily was sitting on the sofa, radiating resentment like a sullen ghost. “Why didn’t you accept my friend request?” I gave her a dismissive glance. “Why would I?” “What did you say to my brother?” she demanded, blocking my path. “Why is he making me move out?” I had no desire to engage with her. But she suddenly snapped, grabbing a vase and hurling it at me. The heavy glass crashed against my forehead, the impact making my ears ring. The thorns from the roses scraped bloody lines down my cheek and arm. Just then, the front door opened. Lily immediately snatched a shard of glass and pressed it to her own wrist, her voice rising in a hysterical, tear-choked scream. “I was just trying to apologize to you! Why are you doing this to me? Do you want me to die? Is that what it will take to make you happy?!” Sean’s eyes widened in horror. He rushed toward her, his face a mask of panic. “Lily!” “Brother…” she sobbed, shaking her head tragically. “I know… I’ve always been the extra one in this family. I won’t get in the way of your happiness anymore, I promise…” Blood welled up on her wrist. Sean’s face went white. I had never seen him so terrified. “Don’t say that! Brother will take you to the hospital.” He swept her into his arms. From beginning to end, he never even looked at me. I slid down the wall, slumping to the floor. It felt as though my heart had been carved out with that same shard of glass. 5 Sean returned late that night, looking utterly exhausted. He stood in the doorway of our bedroom, jacket in hand, frowning as he watched me pack a suitcase. “You’re leaving?” “What else would I do?” My barbed tone made his voice harden. “Why are you making a scene? No one is blaming you.” “Oh, is that it? Is that the greatest mercy you can show me?” I dropped the suitcase and faced him, a cold sneer on my lips. “Sean, what right do either of you have to blame me?” He struggled to control his temper, trying to reason with me. “I already told you I was sending her home. Why did you have to provoke her?” “Provoke her? What did I do? I didn’t accept her friend request. I may not have any say over who you choose to sleep with, but I damn well have the right to control my own friend list!” His face darkened, his voice laced with a rare anger. “Rebecca Pierce! Must you always be so cruel with your words? I told you, she is my sister!” “Yes, she’s a bit dependent on me. But that’s because when she was a teenager, she found out she was adopted. It made her unstable. She became sensitive, attempted suicide several times, and was diagnosed with severe depression. I was the one who took care of her, who sent her abroad to study and get treatment.” “She can’t handle being provoked. I’m begging you! Can you not show her just a little bit of compassion? A little understanding?” I stared at the man before me, this stranger consumed by rage. A bleak emptiness settled in my heart. In three years of marriage, he had never been this angry with me. Not even during the days when I deliberately tried to make him jealous, not even then had he ever raised his voice to me. The words caught in my throat. I couldn’t speak. I fought to control the trembling that wracked my body. “You’re right. I’m cruel. I’m vicious. So please, Sean, go. Go and live happily ever after with your innocent, fragile, pitiful little sister!” He took a deep, ragged breath, as if he had reached his breaking point. His voice was like ice. “You don’t have to pack. I’ll take her and leave. We can talk when you’ve had a chance to calm down.” I locked myself in the room. I heard the sounds of him packing, and then, the cold, final click of the front door closing. I learned that when your heart truly breaks, you can’t even cry. Sean and I were separated. I didn’t know where he went, and I didn’t care. His cousin, however, sent me a few screenshots of Lily’s social media posts. “Who has a brother that still tells them they can’t go to bars at twenty-four? Teehee, not listening.” Attached was a screenshot of her texts with Sean. “Today’s special: my personal chef of a brother. Another day of being fed by the best~” The selfie showed Sean in the background, trying to spoon-feed her, his expression one of pure indulgence. “Can confirm, men’s dress shirts are incredibly comfortable to wear.” A selfie of her curled up on a sofa, intentionally framing Sean working in the background. The old me would have hunted them down and slapped them both across the face. But now, I felt nothing but a hollow sense of amusement. Just as a text from my brother arrived with an update on the divorce proceedings, my assistant placed a cup of coffee on my desk. I had to admit, Cole was an excellent assistant. In just two short weeks, he had learned all my preferences, anticipating my needs before I even voiced them. He perched on the edge of my desk, a brilliant smile playing on his lips. “Good news calls for a drink.” I raised an eyebrow and hooked a finger in his tie. Cole’s eyes darkened a fraction. “But I’m not in the mood for a drink today.” I took him to my private villa instead.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390581”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When the car pulled over onto the highway shoulder, I thought Lucas just needed to use the restroom. “Sophie’s asleep. Try not to wake her,” I said, pulling my daughter’s little blanket up higher. Lucas didn’t look back, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “Grace. Take Sophie and get out of the car.” I froze. “What?” From the back seat, Sarah spoke in a soft voice. “Lucas, darling, it’s alright. We can manage, it’ll just be a little crowded.” Her daughter, Ava, immediately started to cry. “No! I don’t want to sit with that sick little girl! She was coughing all over!” Lucas turned around, and his eyes were colder than I had ever seen them. “Did you hear me? Get out.” “My sister Tiffany is already on her way. She’ll be here in half an hour.” “You two can wait here.” The day before Christmas Eve, on the side of the highway, in below-freezing temperatures. I held my three-year-old daughter and watched him start the car again. The red of the taillights grew smaller and smaller in the swirling snow. Until they disappeared completely. … The snow was coming down harder now. I stood by the guardrail on the shoulder, holding Sophie, trying to shield her from the wind with my own body. “Mommy, where’s Daddy?” Sophie whispered, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. “Daddy… Daddy went on ahead to Grandma’s house,” I forced a smile. “Aunt Tiffany is coming to get us soon.” “But it’s cold…” I wrapped her inside my down coat, using my scarf to cover her head. My phone had 30% battery left. I called Tiffany. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally, she answered. “Grace? What’s up?” The background was loud, like she was at a party. “Tiffany, your brother said you were coming to pick us up. Where are you?” “Huh? Pick you up?” Tiffany paused. “Oh, right, right, I remember. He told me.” “But I’m out with friends right now, I can’t really leave.” “You guys just wait a bit, I’ll head over later.” “Tiffany, it’s freezing on the highway. Sophie can’t take it…” “Oh, come on, Grace, don’t be so dramatic. What’s wrong with waiting a little?” “My brother said Sarah and Ava can’t be out in the wind, that he had to get them home right away.” “There are two of you, an adult and a kid. A little wait won’t kill you.” The line went dead. I clutched my phone, my fingers numb with cold. I tried Lucas. Voicemail. Again. Still voicemail. Sophie was shivering in my arms. “Mommy, I want to go home…” “Soon, sweetie. We’ll be home very soon,” I whispered, kissing her forehead. My eyes burned. In four years of marriage, I never knew Lucas could be this cruel. To abandon his own wife and daughter on the highway for another woman’s child. All because Ava whined, “I don’t want to sit with that sick little girl.” Headlights cut through the gloom in the distance. I waved frantically. A black SUV slowed and stopped in front of us. The window rolled down, revealing a young man. “Need some help?” I felt like I was grabbing a lifeline. “Could you give us a ride? Just to the next service station would be amazing!” The man looked at the child in my arms and frowned. “Get in.” “Thank you! Thank you so much!” I reached for the door handle… “Grace?” I froze. Another head popped out from the car. It was Lucas’s cousin, Ryan. He looked at me, then at the empty stretch of highway. “Grace, what are you doing out here? Where’s Lucas?” I quickly explained what had happened. When I finished, Ryan’s face was dark with fury. “Is he insane? He left you and Sophie out here?” “So Sarah’s daughter is a delicate flower, but his own isn’t human?” He cursed under his breath, then said to the driver, “Rick, let’s get them in the car. We can squeeze.” The front was full, and the back seat was packed next to Ryan. “There’s no room…” the driver said, looking troubled. Ryan immediately got out of the car. “You guys go on. I’ll wait here.” “No way!” “Just go!” Ryan pushed me toward the car. “Sophie’s lips are turning blue. She can’t stay out in this cold any longer!” I climbed into the back seat with Sophie in my arms. The blast of warm air was so intense it made my frozen skin ache. Ryan shut the door and knocked on the window. “Grace, call me when you get to the service station! I’ll have my brother come get you!” “Ryan, it’s too cold out here, what will you do…” “I’m a grown man, I’ll be fine! Think about the kid! Now go!” The car pulled away. Through the rear window, I watched Ryan’s figure shrink in the swirling snow. A lump formed in my throat. My own husband had abandoned us on a highway. And in the end, it was a near-stranger who came to my aid. Sophie fell asleep in my arms, her small face an unhealthy shade of red. I touched her forehead. She was burning up. “Sir, can you please go faster? My daughter has a fever!” The driver nodded and accelerated. I took out my phone, intending to call Tiffany again. No signal. The highway cut through a mountainous area, where service was spotty. “How much further to the service station?” “About fifteen miles. In this weather, at least half an hour.” Half an hour… I held Sophie tighter, constantly checking her temperature. She was getting hotter. “Baby, wake up. Don’t sleep…” Sophie’s eyes fluttered open. “Mommy, I don’t feel good…” “I know, sweetie. We’re almost at the hospital. Just hold on a little longer.” She suddenly started coughing, a deep, wracking cough that made her face turn purple. I patted her back, the tears finally starting to fall. “Sir, please, I’m begging you, go faster!” The driver was getting anxious too. “This is as fast as I can go! The roads are slick with ice!” Sophie’s coughing grew more violent, her breathing a ragged, wheezing sound. “Mommy… I can’t… breathe…” I unzipped her coat and saw her chest heaving violently. It was acute pneumonia. She’d had it once before, last year. She almost didn’t make it. “Sophie, look at Mommy. Don’t close your eyes!” “Mommy will tell you a story, about the little white rabbit…” Her eyes were half-lidded, her breathing growing fainter. I started pounding on the window like a madwoman. “Help! My daughter is dying! Somebody help!” But on the highway, there was nothing but the wind and the snow. The SUV finally pulled into the service station. I ran with Sophie into the convenience store. “Is there a doctor? My daughter is sick, she needs help!” The clerk looked terrified. “We… we don’t have a doctor here…” “Call 911! Now!” “The cell tower is down… The call won’t go through…” My legs gave out, and I nearly collapsed. In my arms, Sophie had gone silent. At the small motel attached to the service station, the owner rummaged around and found a box of fever reducer and some antibiotics. “Maybe try giving her this?” My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t tear the packaging open. Sophie lay across my lap, her breathing so shallow it seemed like it could stop at any moment. I managed to get the pill into her mouth, but she didn’t even have the strength to swallow. “Sophie, please, swallow it. I’m begging you…” The pill, dissolved in saliva, trickled out of the corner of her mouth. The motel owner couldn’t bear to watch. “Look, I can drive you to the county hospital. But with this snow, the roads might be closed…” “Go! We have to go now!” I pulled all the cash I had from my wallet and shoved it at him. “Please!” He clenched his jaw. “Alright. I’ll risk it.” The car crawled along the snow-covered road. With every bump, Sophie’s small body seemed to go limper. I held her hand, talking nonstop. “Sophie, remember how you wanted to go to Disneyland? Mommy will take you.” “We’ll ride the biggest carousel.” “And you can wear an Elsa dress, right?” “Mommy will take you to Universal Studios, too. We’ll see the Transformers, your big heroes, okay?” Her eyelashes fluttered. But her eyes remained closed. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. Signal! My hands trembling, I dialed Lucas’s number. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. “Hello?” The background was quiet, like he was at home. “Lucas…” My voice was so hoarse I could barely speak. “Sophie is sick. It’s… it’s really bad…” “Where are you?” His voice was terrifyingly calm. “On the way to the county hospital. You have to come…” “Grace,” he interrupted me. “Didn’t Tiffany go to pick you up?” “She never came! She never showed up!” “That’s impossible. She just posted on social media that she was on her way.” I froze. I opened my social media app and found Tiffany’s profile. Her latest post, ten minutes ago. A selfie, with the highway visible in the background. The caption read: “On my way to pick up my sister-in-law! So sweet of my big bro to think of them~” The location tag was sixty miles away from us. She hadn’t moved. She was lying to Lucas. And she was lying to me. “See?” Lucas said. “Tiffany will be there any minute. Just wait.” “We can’t wait! Sophie is dying! Our daughter is dying, Lucas!” “Grace,” his voice turned cold. “It’s Christmas. Don’t say such unlucky things. What’s all this talk about dying?” “Sarah and Ava just got here, and Mom is in a great mood. Don’t ruin it.” “When Tiffany gets you, just take Sophie to a clinic.” “Kids get fevers. It’s normal. She’s not going to die. Stop being so dramatic. Be good.” He hung up. I stared at my phone, the blood turning to ice in my veins. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Your husband?” I nodded. “Bastard,” he muttered. “Hang on tight. I know a shortcut. We can’t let anything happen to this little girl.” The car turned onto a mountain road. The snow was even heavier here. I could barely hear Sophie breathing anymore. I felt for her heartbeat. It was so faint, it felt like a hallucination. “Sophie… don’t scare Mommy…” “Mommy was wrong. Mommy was an idiot to fall in love!” “Mommy was wrong to marry him…” “I shouldn’t have let you suffer…” Sobbing, I reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a small, button-sized metal device. My father had given it to me. “Gracie,” he had said, “the Harrison family has always favored sons. If they ever mistreat you because Sophie is a girl, press this.” I pressed it. There was no sound. But I knew a signal had been sent. My father had promised that if I ever pressed it, his people would be there within three hours. But three hours… Could my Sophie last for three hours? We finally reached the county hospital. I burst into the emergency room carrying Sophie, my throat too raw to scream. A nurse saw Sophie’s condition and immediately called for a doctor. “Acute pneumonia! Heart rate is dropping! Get ready to resuscitate!” I was blocked from entering the trauma room. Through the glass, I watched as doctors intubated Sophie, hooking her up to monitors. Her tiny body, lying on that big bed, looked like it could vanish at any moment. I sank to the floor in the corner, shaking uncontrollably. My phone rang again. Lucas. I answered, but said nothing. “Grace, where are you now?” he asked, his voice impatient. “My mother is waiting to eat dinner.” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “Talk to me!” “The hospital…” I managed to squeeze out the words. “Sophie… they’re trying to save her…” “What?” He paused. “What are you doing at a hospital? Where’s Tiffany?” “She didn’t come…” “Impossible. She just texted me. She said she picked you up.” I opened our family group chat. Twenty minutes ago, she had sent a message: “Bro, got them. On our way back now.” Attached was a blurry photo taken from inside a car. The back of a woman in the passenger seat, wearing a coat that looked just like mine. It was an old photo she had taken of me. She was playing him. With a picture she had saved for this very purpose. “She’s lying,” I said. “Lucas, you need to come to the hospital. Now.” There was a few seconds of silence. “Grace. Are you trying to get out of coming for Christmas?” “Are you upset that Sarah is here?” “Is that why you’re making up these lies?” I was stunned. “You think I’m lying to you?” “What else am I supposed to think?” he scoffed. “Why would Tiffany lie to me?” “She’s my sister. What are you?” “A woman who was useless after giving me a daughter.” I gripped the phone, my nails digging into my palm. “Lucas, if Sophie dies today, I will never forgive you as long as I live.” “Whatever,” he said. “Besides, my mother already said Sarah can still have a son.” “If you can’t give me a son, you should make way for someone who can.” He hung up. I listened to the dial tone, slowly sliding to the floor. The doors to the trauma room opened.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390580”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Melanie, the fake heiress, was all sweetness and light. From the moment I returned home, she pretended to treat me like a real sister. I was genuinely grateful. So when she complained of cramps and asked for a special herbal tea, I didn’t hesitate to get it for her. But the instant I turned my back, a laugh echoed in my mind. It was Melanie’s. What herbal tea? This is your one-way ticket out of the Ashton family. If you refuse to make it for me, I’ll just tell everyone you watched me suffer and did nothing. And if you do make it, I’ll just slip in some of those dried berries I’m allergic to and frame you. Mom, Dad, and Declan will skin you alive. Even if they don’t, I’ve arranged for a little ‘accident’ with a truck outside. In your next life, try not to be born the real, inconvenient heiress. I froze for a moment, realizing I could hear her thoughts. But I didn’t refuse. I didn’t expose her. An allergic reaction seemed a bit boring. If we were going to play, we were going to play for keeps. Besides, why should I be the only one she framed? With that thought, I went to find the brother who never missed a chance to declare that Melanie was his only sister. “Declan,” I began, my voice soft, “Melanie said she’s having terrible cramps and wants some herbal tea. Could you help me make her a cup?” This was the first time I had ever called Declan “brother.” He looked like he’d swallowed a wasp. “I’ve told you a dozen times, call me by my full name. We may be related by blood, but I’ve never acknowledged you as my sister. My only sister is Melanie—” He cut himself off, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say about Melanie?” I mentally rolled my eyes, but my face was a perfect mask of pitiable helplessness. “Mr. Ashton, Melanie just told me she’s in a lot of pain and asked for her tea. It’s the first time she’s ever asked anything of me, so I didn’t feel right asking the staff to do it.” “But I don’t know how she likes it, and I’m afraid I’ll make it wrong…” “So, could you please, please help me?” I let my voice trail off into a whisper. “I’m a fast learner, I promise. If you just show me once, I can take care of her properly from now on.” The phrase “take care of her properly” seemed to placate him. His expression softened slightly, though he still looked at me as if I owed him my life. He led me to the kitchen and began preparing the tea with practiced ease. “Watch closely. Melanie has been pampered by me and our parents her whole life. If you really want to be a part of this family, you need to learn how to cater to her.” I nodded eagerly, watching his every move, especially when he specified the amount of honey and warned me to never, ever add the dried berries. I looked as if I were carving his instructions into my very soul. Seeing my eagerness to please, Declan finally seemed satisfied. “You’d better be grateful,” he said, a sharp edge to his voice. “When you first came back, we were hesitant. We were just going to give you some money and send you abroad. It was Melanie who insisted you stay, who wanted you as a sister.” “So you know exactly who you have to thank for being in this house.” 2 Oh, yes. I had Melanie’s “loving” mother—the nanny—to thank for my wonderful life. To give her own daughter a life of luxury, she’d switched us at birth. Melanie spent twenty years as the pampered darling of the Ashton family, while I was taken back to a dirt-poor village in the mountains. I was starving, cold, and by the age of five, I was expected to cook and clean for an entire household. The nanny, terrified I would one day learn the truth, planned to marry me off to some old creep for cash the moment I turned eighteen. Even as a child, I knew what that meant. It meant my life would be over. I begged a volunteer teacher to take me with her when she left. Seeing how miserable I was, she ignored the legalities and spirited me out of the mountains. I finally had a chance to learn, to study. Years later, I saw a woman on television who looked remarkably like the nanny, standing beside a society lady who bore a striking resemblance to me. It was then that I began to suspect the truth about my past. I worked my way into the Ashton family’s corporation, and inevitably, my identity was discovered. I was brought home. But the Ashtons were far from welcoming. Their only concern was protecting Melanie. “None of this was Melanie’s fault. Blood may be important, but twenty years of raising her means more!” “We’ll give you a sum of money…” It was laughable. My heart felt like a dead thing in my chest. I was ready to take the money and leave. But Melanie, her eyes red with tears, grabbed my hand and begged me not to go. So I stayed. She was often condescending, her words laced with a casual cruelty and a need to show off her superiority. But compared to the icy indifference of the others, she was the kindest person to me in that house. Or so I thought, until I heard her inner voice. It was all a scheme. She didn’t want me to take their money and live a comfortable life abroad. She wanted me to be despised by the Ashtons, to be cast out and erased from existence. 3 My mind was a whirlwind of these thoughts as Declan finished making the tea. “You’re really good at this, Mr. Ashton.” “Could I ask you one more favor? Can I be the one to bring this to Melanie? And please, don’t tell her you made it.” “I just want her to like me a little more…” Declan didn’t object. I went to the bathroom and scrubbed my hands until they were spotless, then carried the bowl of tea—the catalyst for the coming storm—into Melanie’s room. When I entered, I saw that it wasn’t just Melanie in the room. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Ashton, were there as well. The moment they saw me, the smiles on their faces vanished. “What are you doing here?” Melanie quickly jumped to my defense. “It was my sister. She saw I wasn’t feeling well and offered to make me some tea. Mom, Dad, please don’t misunderstand her.” Mr. Ashton nodded, a flicker of approval in his eyes. “That’s more like it.” “Melanie took your place in this family and cared for your mother and me for twenty years. It’s only right that you show her some gratitude.” I scoffed internally. She lived my life of luxury, and I lived her life of squalor, and I’m supposed to thank her? But I didn’t say a word, just nodded meekly. Mrs. Ashton’s expression softened. She took the tea from the tray and began to feed it to Melanie. Melanie took a few sips from her mother’s hand, then claimed it was too hot and took the bowl herself. Instantly, my new parents turned on me, scolding me for not getting the temperature right, asking if I’d done it on purpose. While they were distracted, lecturing me, Melanie quickly dropped a few dried berries into her tea. I saw everything. But I pretended not to notice, just kept my head bowed. “Yes, yes, I’ll be more careful next time.” Melanie finished the entire bowl. Before I could even take the empty bowl back, the reaction began. 4 A red rash erupted all over Melanie’s skin. Her voice became hoarse. “Sister, what did you put in my tea?” “I told you I can’t eat those berries. Did you put them in here?” I feigned terror. “I… I… I didn’t.” “No… it wasn’t…” Before I could finish, my parents cut me off. “If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” “I knew it! It’s just like in those soap operas. How could a girl like you, who’s spent her life in the mud, ever behave herself?” “Are you trying to kill Melanie?” They were livid. Melanie, scratching at her arms, began to cry. “Don’t blame my sister. She feels like I’ve stolen her life. It’s only natural she’d want me dead.” “Mom, Dad, if I die, please don’t blame her. These years as your daughter… they’ve been more than enough.” She sounded so pathetic. But in her mind, she was laughing. What a complete idiot. Doesn’t she watch any dramas? Did she really think she could just bring me tea without consequences? This was a perfect plan. If she refused, she’d be cruel. If she agreed, I could frame her for poisoning me. Even if Mom and Dad care about bloodlines, they’d never accept a daughter who tried to poison her sister. A small price to pay—a little skin rash—for such a perfect outcome. I’m a genius. Her plan was perfect. But in the next second, her breathing became ragged. Her face turned a frightening shade of blue. Then, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed, genuinely unconscious. I chose that moment to interrupt my parents’ tirade. “Mom, Dad, maybe we should figure out who’s to blame later.” “Right now, we should probably call an ambulance. It looks like she might actually be dying.” 5 Because we got her to the hospital in time, Melanie survived. I was a little disappointed. But perhaps it was for the best. Death would have been too easy. Besides, I had come back to the Ashton family to claim what was mine—the entire fortune. A death in the villa would have been bad for property values. Melanie couldn’t understand how a mild skin allergy had turned so severe. But she didn’t dwell on it. The moment she woke up, with our parents and Declan watching, she fell to her knees before me. “Sister, I’m so sorry. I never should have stolen your life.” “I won’t press charges for you poisoning me with the berries. Just let me leave. Let me go. I’m still young, I just want to live.” “Mom, Dad, from now on, pretend you never had me as a daughter!” Her parents’ hearts were breaking. “Melanie, what are you talking about? You’re the victim here. The one who should leave isn’t you, it’s her.” “I don’t care if you’re my biological daughter or not. I will not have such a wicked person in my house.” Declan, who didn’t know the details, only knew that I had poisoned Melanie and nearly killed her. He slapped me hard across the face. “That’s right. The one who needs to get out is you.” “From this day on, you are no longer an Ashton. You won’t get a single penny from us.” At that, I finally “broke.” The previously tongue-tied girl suddenly found her voice. “Declan, how could you say that?” “You were the one who made the tea! You’re the one who poisoned Melanie! Not only do you refuse to take responsibility, but you’re blaming it all on me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390578”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day my grandfather was dying, I begged my wife, Paige, to stay. She abandoned me for a frantic call from her childhood best friend: “He just got dumped. He needs me.” I buried Grandpa alone and cut her off completely. A month later, I came home to find that friend, Grant Donovan, sprawled on my couch, wearing my wedding ring. He pointed at Grandpa’s antique pocket watch, the last thing he’d touched. “This thing looks morbid,” Grant whined. Paige snatched the watch and tossed it into the junk drawer. “Don’t upset Grant,” she snapped. I silently retrieved the watch, pulled out the prestigious acceptance letter I’d sealed years ago, and filed for divorce. Paige found the papers and exploded. “What about your grandfather? How could you leave him?” I looked at her, my voice dead. “Grandpa died the day you chose to comfort your ex.” 1 Grandpa had been in the ICU for three days. My hand shook as I dialed Paige’s number, the busy signal sounding like a siren in my ears. Finally, she picked up. The background noise was a chaotic murmur. “Paige,” my voice cracked, “you have to get to the hospital. Grandpa… the doctor says it’s bad. Really bad.” She paused, and her next words were slightly breathless. “I’m on my way. Hold on, Thea.” The line went dead. I slid down the cold wall, burying my face in my hands. He was still in there. My only family left in the world. Paige arrived quickly, her silk sundress faintly wrinkled. She grabbed my shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m here.” There was a faint, but unmistakably male, scent of cedar and smoke—a cologne I didn’t recognize—clinging to her. But I couldn’t focus. I clutched her arm like she was the last buoy in a rising tide. “The doctors said… it’s going to be in the next day or two…” My throat closed, and the rest became a choked sob. She patted my back, but the movement felt mechanical, awkward. We had sat on the corridor bench for less than ten minutes when her phone vibrated in her designer clutch. She glanced at the screen, her brow immediately furrowing in a deep knot of anxiety. She shot up and walked a few steps away to answer. I heard her voice, low and laced with a frantic edge I’d never heard directed at me. “Grant? What? Where are you right now?… Don’t do anything stupid! I’m coming!” She hung up, then rushed back to me, her face a mask of undisguised panic and impatience. “Thea, I have to go! Grant’s in trouble!” My heart plummeted. I gripped her hand, my fingernails digging into her flesh. “No! Please, don’t leave! Grandpa could go any minute… he just called your name a minute ago…” Tears streamed down my face, entirely uncontrollable. She forcefully pried my hand open. The sheer strength of it made my wrist sting. “I’m sorry!” Her words tumbled out. “Grant’s girlfriend just dumped him. He’s completely shattered. He’s been drinking, and he’s threatening to jump off the parking garage roof! I can’t let him do that. He’s a life, Thea!” There was no guilt in her eyes, just the hot, frustrated annoyance of someone whose plans have been derailed. “And what about my grandfather?” My voice was trembling and thin. “Isn’t his life a life?” She pressed her lips into a hard line, avoiding my gaze. Then, she spun on her heel and sprinted toward the elevators. Her heels struck the polished floor, the sound fast and heavy. She didn’t look back. The ICU doors hissed open. A nurse leaned out, her expression grim. “Mrs. Morgan, he’s asking for you. Hurry.” I stumbled inside. Grandpa’s eyes struggled open, his hazy gaze moving with painful slowness. His lips barely moved. I threw myself beside the bed, straining to hear the faint, cracked whisper. “Paige… she…” “She’s coming! Grandpa, just hold on!” I cried, pointlessly clutching his brittle, cold hand. It stiffened in my palm, growing colder, harder. The monitor’s high-pitched alarm shrieked, slicing through the sterile air. Doctors and nurses swarmed in. The sound and motion became muted, like watching a chaotic scene through thick glass. I stood frozen, watching their futile attempts at chest compression and paddles. After an eternity, one of the doctors stood up, pulled down his mask, and shook his head at me. Time shattered and fell in on itself. Grandpa was gone. The last person on earth who loved me without condition had just slipped away. Paige never came back. I don’t remember signing the paperwork or walking out of the hospital. The late autumn wind felt like sandpaper on my face. Walking aimlessly, I pulled out my phone. The screen light stung my eyes. My fingers moved with their own detached will, opening Grant Donovan’s social media profile. His newest post was from half an hour ago. The picture was a familiar female back, carefully supporting a man’s arm—a gesture of tenderness etched into her bone structure. The caption: [Thank you for being here. No matter how hard the future is, I’m not afraid anymore.] The location tag read: An expensive private therapy center downtown. The timestamp was exactly the moment Paige had abandoned me. I clicked the comment box and typed, one word after another: Maybe I should just vacate my position for you entirely, then? I hit send, then powered the phone off. 2 I returned to the small, familiar craftsman house Grandpa and I had shared for twenty years. The faint aroma of his preferred tea still lingered in the air. I set up a small, temporary memorial in the living room myself. Grandpa’s face, smiling gently in the small black-and-white photo, was now surrounded by candles. I knelt on the cold tiles, numbly praying and silently repeating the words I wanted to say to him. When I turned my phone back on, a barrage of missed calls and texts flooded the screen—most were from Paige. The newest one was a few minutes old: Are you done being dramatic? Turn your phone on! How’s Grandpa? I glanced at it and shoved the phone back into my pocket. The only sounds were the quiet crackle of burning paper and the hollow thud of my own heart. I stayed by Grandpa’s photo for three days. Paige didn’t appear. A new text arrived late on the fourth afternoon. Come home when you’ve cooled off. Stop making a scene. I know you’re worried about Grandpa. Once I get Grant settled, I’ll find a minute to take you to see him. I stared at the screen, a strange, hysterical sense of absurdity bubbling up. She thought I was throwing a tantrum? She thought Grandpa was waiting? She thought I was still waiting for her in that house, hoping for a crumb of her pity? My finger tapped the cold glass. I replied with only a few words: I’m at Grandpa’s house. I won’t be coming back for now. Then, I powered down again. I began sorting through Grandpa’s things. Every item spoke volumes, each one a crushing weight on my chest. Paige called a few times during this process. I answered once. Her voice was flat and carried a tone of suffocating condescension. “Thea, still pouting? Grant is in a really bad place right now; he can’t be left alone. As soon as he’s slightly stable, I promise I’ll take you to the hospital to see Grandpa, okay?” I looked at the worn, half-century-old teapot in my hand—a small chip near the spout. I said quietly, “Don’t bother.” She seemed to choke on her words. A few days later, I told her I was coming back to the main house to pick up some seasonal clothes. Her reaction was unexpectedly explosive: “No! Grant’s staying here right now! He doesn’t want to see you, and I don’t want you coming back here to upset him.” The next moment, my phone buzzed with an incoming transaction. A substantial amount of money. Her accompanying text: Here’s some money. Get something nice for Grandpa. Be sensible. I looked at the cold numbers, then at Grandpa’s gentle, smiling face in the photo. I accepted the transfer. It was the least she owed him. As for that house, I wouldn’t step foot in it again until I was ready to leave for good. 3 A month passed. I needed a crucial notarized document that was kept in the main house. I opened the front door, and a rich wave of that strange cedar cologne immediately washed over me, drowning out the house’s familiar scents. In the living room, Grant Donovan was draped across the sofa. The gray cashmere throw blanket I had personally chosen for our wedding was tossed casually over his legs. He was sipping from my preferred black ceramic mug. He simply raised his eyes when he saw me, a smug, half-smile playing on his lips. He made no move to get up. Paige emerged from the study, freezing when she saw me. A flicker of panic crossed her eyes, instantly replaced by a look of combined fatigue and forced annoyance. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was harsh. “I told you not to come back right now.” I ignored her and headed straight for the study. The document was tucked neatly inside the desk drawer. As I reached for it, the silver chain of the watch I wore around my neck slipped from beneath my collar. It was the only personal item Grandpa had left me, an old, plain silver pocket watch. Grant’s gaze landed on the watch and snapped tight, as if he’d been scalded. “Paige…” His voice instantly took on a whiny, vulnerable quality, and he pointed a finger at me. “That watch… it’s so old. It looks like bad luck… I… I feel kind of weird…” He pressed a hand to his chest, his brow furrowed, seemingly in real distress. Paige exploded into action. She rushed to me, her face a storm of naked tension over Grant’s discomfort. “Did you hear him?” Her voice was low and commanding. “Grant is emotionally fragile right now. He can’t handle seeing things like that. Take it off. Don’t upset him.” I instinctively covered the watch with my hand. My fingertips were ice cold. “It was my grandpa’s,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. My refusal seemed to ignite her rage. She reached out violently, grabbed the chain, and gave it a hard yank. The silver links tore, searing a line of sharp pain across the back of my neck. The small watch, carrying the last flicker of Grandpa’s warmth, was violently snatched into her hand. She didn’t even look at it. She pulled open the bottom drawer of the entertainment center—the one crammed with miscellaneous junk—and threw the watch inside like garbage, where it mixed with old batteries, broken remotes, and forgotten charging cables. With a final, sharp thud, she slammed the drawer shut, kicking up a small cloud of dust. That muted thud was a wrecking ball, smashing the last splinter of sentimentality I held in my heart. Grandpa’s final memory was, in her eyes, less important than a single furrow in Grant Donovan’s brow. 4 The study door clicked shut behind me, muffling Grant’s low, triumphant murmur in the living room. I leaned my back against the cold wood paneling and slowly slid to the floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390577”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel