Author: Momo Chan

1 I was known in our social circle as the ultimate control freak. When it came to Ben, I demanded absolute loyalty. I would not allow another woman to even breathe in his direction. Three days before our wedding, I caught him in bed with his childhood best friend, Stella. This time, he did not apologize or back down. “We can either call it off right now and go our separate ways, or you can drop to your knees, beg for my forgiveness, and I might consider going through with this wedding.” Everyone in the room thought I would throw a massive fit and tear the place apart. Instead, I dropped straight to my knees. His friends sneered, laughing openly. “I told you women just need to be put in their place. Look at her. The second Ben actually gets serious, she falls right in line.” Overnight, I became the biggest joke in Seattle. But I did not care. I no longer loved Ben. I just desperately needed his money. … Ben ultimately granted me his twisted mercy and married me. But the sweet honeymoon phase I was supposed to have never happened. He vanished on our wedding night and did not come home for an entire month. Every text I sent sank like a stone in the ocean. The only way I knew what my husband was doing was by looking at Stella’s social media. On the night of our wedding, he was in her bed, wearing the custom suit I had spent a month altering perfectly for him. He took Stella to the exact beach where we had our first date. He took her to Iceland to see the Northern Lights, a trip I had been begging him to take with me for years. They looked like the newlyweds. I was just the unwanted third wheel. I swallowed my pride and stopped bothering them, until the hospital called. “Miss Paterson, we need you to settle your mother’s outstanding medical bills immediately. If the balance isn’t paid, we will have to halt her treatments.” Panic seized my chest. “Ben paid the entire balance in one lump sum. Is there a mistake?” “There is no mistake,” the doctor explained, his tone heavy with pity. “Mr. Prescott’s girlfriend came in this morning and withdrew the remaining funds. Your mother’s condition is critical. If we don’t have the money for the surgery within three hours, I am afraid…” A loud ringing exploded in my ears. I frantically dialed Ben’s number. I expected him to decline the call, but surprisingly, he picked up. Loud, thumping bass echoed in the background. He was at a club. His voice came through the speaker, thick with annoyance. “What do you want?” I rushed my words. “Stella took back my mom’s medical funds. She needs surgery right now, Ben. Can you please just tell Stella to put the money back?” Before he could answer, Stella’s voice overpowered mine through the receiver. “Ben, is your ball and chain checking up on you again? Didn’t we all agree to ignore her tonight? Just block her already. The guys are waiting for you to take a shot.” Pure terror gripped my throat. “No, please wait…” The line went dead. When I tried calling back, it went straight to voicemail. He had blocked me. It felt like a cold hand was squeezing my heart, stealing the air from my lungs. Thank God I still had access to his location. Back when he wanted to prove his loyalty, he had installed a tracker on his phone for me, and he never bothered to turn it off. I followed the map to an exclusive VIP lounge downtown. Pushing the heavy velvet doors open, I found Ben sitting on a plush leather sofa, holding Stella in his lap. They were playing a drinking game. Stella tore a small strip of paper until it was barely a centimeter long, placed it between her lips, and leaned in, gesturing for Ben to take it with his mouth. The crowd erupted in cheers, whistling and shouting for them to just kiss already. The cheering stopped when someone finally noticed me standing by the door. “Look who it is. The boss lady is here.” The flirtatious atmosphere shattered. Every single pair of eyes turned to me, dripping with hostility. Ben frowned, his jaw tightening in irritation. “Why are you here?” Stella looked me up and down with absolute disdain, a mocking smile on her lips. “Are you really here to play the jealous wife? Do you honestly still not understand your place?” I clutched the hem of my shirt, my fingers trembling. “I am not here to check on him. The doctor said my mom needs emergency surgery, but Stella took all the money back. I just came for the medical funds.” The room went dead silent for two seconds before erupting into roaring laughter. “Wow. You are seriously making up a story about your own dying mother just to drag Ben back home? Does your mom know you are cursing her like that?” “Stella and Ben grew up together. They know everything about each other. A pathetic outsider like you could never come between them.” “You better watch your step, or Ben is going to kick you to the curb, and you won’t even have a shoulder to cry on.” Back when Ben was completely devoted to me, these same men used to treat me like royalty. Now that they knew I had lost his favor, they could not wait to trample me into the dirt. Stella suddenly let out a dramatic sob, burying her face in her hands like a victim. “I know you hate me, Serena, but you don’t have to joke about someone’s life! Imagine how heartbroken your mother would be if she heard you say that.” Ben’s face darkened into a dangerous scowl. He glared at me, his voice a freezing command. “So you are a liar now too, Serena? Apologize to Stella right now.” I shook my head, desperately trying to get through to him. “I am not lying! Just call the hospital and ask them!” A crystal whiskey glass suddenly shattered right at my feet. Sharp shards of glass sliced through my ankle, drawing warm blood. Ben stared at me with pure disgust. “Since you love talking back so much, I guess a simple warning isn’t going to work. Get on your knees on that broken glass and apologize to Stella.” Before I could even process his words, someone kicked me hard in the back of my knees. I collapsed. My bare knees slammed directly into the jagged crystal. The glass dug deep into my skin, and blood immediately pooled on the floor. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead from the agonizing pain. I tried to push myself up, but a heavy boot slammed into my shoulder, shoving me back down. My palms hit the floor, catching more glass. My hands were covered in blood. Ben watched me with a completely blank expression, looking at me like I was a piece of trash on the street. This was the same man who used to panic if I got a tiny papercut. He used to bandage my fingers and throw away every sharp object in the house. He used to tell me, “You are the love of my life, Serena. I will never let anyone hurt you.” My phone began to vibrate in my pocket. It was my mother’s surgeon. Swallowing the blinding pain, I hit accept. “Miss Paterson, where are you? If the payment doesn’t clear in the next hour, we cannot proceed with the surgery!” Ben narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze down to Stella. Stella shrank back, looking guilty. “I didn’t mean to take her mom’s money. I was just so angry about how strict she used to be with you. I wanted to teach her a lesson. I’ll transfer the money back right now.” Seeing her fake tears, Ben’s expression softened completely. He gently patted her hair. “It is not your fault. You were just trying to protect me. If anyone is to blame, it is Serena for being a suffocating, controlling bitch.” The physical agony radiating from my bleeding limbs was instantly eclipsed by the sheer, devastating blow to my heart. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped it apart barehanded. When he first chased me, I hesitated because he was a wealthy heir with a reputation for playing games. To prove me wrong, he knelt in front of me, handed over all his passwords, his bank accounts, and the deeds to his properties. With red, desperate eyes, he had begged me. “I want to be yours completely. I want you to control me. If you tell me to go left, I will never go right. I swear I will never leave your sight.” Now, that exact devotion was suddenly my greatest crime. It was almost funny. When I finally made it to the hospital, I did not stop to get my wounds cleaned. I limped straight toward my mother’s wing. I expected to push the door open and see her warm, gentle smile. Instead, as I reached the hallway, I saw two nurses wheeling a stretcher out of her room. The body on the bed was completely covered by a thick white sheet. A terrifying sense of dread swallowed me whole. I lunged forward and yanked the sheet back. My mother’s weathered, exhausted face stared blindly at the ceiling, completely drained of color. I froze, my voice trembling so violently I could barely form words. “What happened to her?” The young nurse looked at me with deep pity. “The patient passed away. I am so sorry for your loss.” The words struck me like lightning. The blood in my veins turned to solid ice. “Why? The money was transferred back, wasn’t it? Why did this happen?” The nurse let out a heavy sigh. “The funds cleared, yes. But right as we were prepping her for surgery, a woman named Stella stormed into the operating wing with a group of private security guards. They caused a massive scene and physically unplugged the surgical equipment. The delay was too long. Your mother suffered a massive hemorrhage and we lost her.” My mind shattered into a million pieces. My knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed onto the sterile tiles. Stella. A blazing inferno of pure hatred burned away every last shred of my sanity. After quickly finalizing the paperwork for my mother’s body, I drove straight to Stella’s apartment. Ben was sitting on her sofa, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as they shared a deep, passionate kiss. When he saw me standing in the doorway, his face twisted in anger. “Are you stalking me now, Serena? Are you a psycho? When are you going to stop?” I did not waste a single breath on him. I grabbed a heavy ceramic vase from the entryway table and smashed it directly over Stella’s head. Stella let out a bloodcurdling scream and fell back. Blood poured down the side of her face. Before I could take another step, Ben kicked me squarely in the stomach. I crashed to the floor, the back of my head slamming violently against the sharp edge of the coffee table. Warm blood instantly soaked my hair. I tried to force myself up, but the room spun, and I collapsed back down. Ben was frantically pressing a towel to Stella’s bleeding head. He glared at me, his eyes burning with absolute fury. “You belong in a mental asylum! What the hell is wrong with you!” Fighting through the crushing pain in my skull, I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I am crazy? That bitch just murdered my mother, and I am not allowed to get even?” A stinging slap snapped my head to the side. Ben looked at me like I was a monster. “That is enough! You are actually making up a story about a murder just to ruin my relationship with Stella? You make me sick!” The raw, unfiltered hatred in his eyes left me completely paralyzed. This was the boy who used to take my side unconditionally. If someone so much as made me shed a single tear, he would wage war against them without asking a single question. Now, the man standing in front of me looked like he wanted to strangle me to death. My heart physically ached, a sharp, suffocating pain that made it hard to breathe. Stella’s dramatic crying interrupted us, fueling Ben’s rage even further. He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me roughly toward the basement door. I thrashed in terror. “Let go of me! What are you doing!” His voice was devoid of any humanity. “I spoiled you too much. That is why you act like an entitled lunatic. I am going to make you pay for what you did today.” With one violent shove, he threw me down the stairs into the basement like a broken ragdoll. The heavy iron door slammed shut, and the lock clicked. I was swallowed by absolute, suffocating darkness. Blind panic wrapped around my throat like a vine. I scrambled up the stairs and pounded my fists against the door. “Let me out! Ben, please, let me out!” Besides my mother, Ben was the only person in the world who knew I suffered from severe claustrophobia. Whenever my anxiety flared up, he refused to let me stay in a room alone. No matter how busy he was at work, he would rush home while I was sleeping and sit by my bed, just so I would not wake up to an empty, terrifying room. Now, the terror was eating me alive. I scratched and clawed at the wooden door until my fingernails cracked and broke. My fresh wounds tore open, soaking my clothes in blood. Outside the door, I heard Stella’s sickeningly sweet voice. “Ben, are you sure it’s okay to lock her down there?” Ben scoffed coldly. “She brought this on herself. I let her walk all over me for years. It is time she learns some respect.” Their footsteps faded away. No matter how loud I screamed, no matter how hard I cried, no one came back. I curled into a ball on the cold concrete floor, weeping until my throat bled. The emotional agony was far worse than the physical pain. Eventually, my vision went black, and I passed out. When I finally woke up, I was lying in a sterile hospital bed. Ben was sitting in a chair beside me, looking genuinely concerned. But the moment I opened my eyes, his concern morphed back into arrogance. “A man in my position is going to have a few women on the side. It is perfectly normal. As my wife, you need to learn to be generous.” “I know I was a little harsh with the punishment this time. When you get discharged, I’ll take you to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. You’ve always wanted to go, right?” An image of him kissing Stella under the glowing green sky flashed in my mind. My stomach violently churned. I shook my head slowly. “Save it. I want a divorce.” Ben’s face darkened instantly. “What kind of tantrum is this?” I looked at him with dead, empty eyes. “I am completely serious.” The only reason I had swallowed my pride and married him after he cheated on me was to pay for my mother’s medical care. Now that she was gone, this marriage meant absolutely nothing. Ben kicked the leg of my hospital bed in frustration. “I never realized you were this pathetic. If you leave me, who is going to pay for your mother’s treatments? Stop dragging her down just because you want to throw a pity party.” “There is no talking to you right now. Take some time and cool off.” He turned on his heel and marched out of the room without looking back. I didn’t stop him. I calmly pulled the IV needle out of the back of my hand, called a lawyer, and had two copies of a divorce settlement drafted. After signing my name, I sent them to Ben’s office via overnight courier. Then, I went to the funeral home, collected my mother’s ashes in a simple wooden urn, and bought a train ticket to take her back to our hometown. Just as I was walking toward the boarding platform, a group of massive bodyguards blocked my path. Stella stepped out from behind them. She glared at me with vicious hatred. “You think running away is going to make Ben miss you and come crawling back? You are delusional.” I frowned, gripping the urn tightly. “What do you want?” She let out a cold, sharp laugh. She suddenly lunged forward, slapping the urn out of my hands. It hit the pavement, shattering open. Gray ash spilled across the dirty concrete. Before I could even scream, she slammed her designer boot directly into the pile of ashes, grinding her heel into the dirt. I raised my hand to strike her, but one of her guards kicked me hard in the ribs. I collapsed onto the concrete. Stella looked down at me with mocking, venomous eyes. “You loved your mommy so much, right? Since she is dead, why don’t you go join her?” The bodyguards grabbed me by my hair and dragged me away. They hauled me to an abandoned industrial rail yard on the edge of the city. With heavy ropes, they tied my wrists and ankles directly to the rusted train tracks. I thrashed and fought with every ounce of strength I had left, but it was completely useless. Stella stood safely on the gravel bank, crossing her arms and watching me with absolute triumph. The ground beneath me began to vibrate. In the distance, the blaring horn of a massive freight train pierced the air. The blinding headlight grew larger and larger. I knew there was no escaping this. I stopped fighting and closed my eyes in absolute despair. Mom. I’m coming to find you. Across town, Ben sat at his massive oak desk. When he opened the overnight envelope and saw the divorce papers, he scoffed, assuming I was just playing hard to get. He ripped the documents into shreds and tossed them into the trash can. Then, he called his bank and froze every single one of my credit cards, fully expecting me to come crawling back in tears. Later that night, he was drinking expensive whiskey in a private VIP room with his friends, having the time of his life. His phone vibrated on the table. Seeing my name on the caller ID, he let out a smug chuckle, fully expecting an apology. He answered the call, a mocking remark already on his tongue. But instead of my voice, a grim, unfamiliar man spoke through the receiver. “Is this the family of Miss Serena Paterson? She was involved in a fatal accident at the rail yard. We need you to come down and identify the body.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “534502”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On Grandma’s deathbed, Peter finally agreed to drive me home. She was clinging to life, desperate to meet the man I’d loved for seven years. Midway, Violet called, sobbing she was alone at the hospital. Peter fell silent, then spun the car around. “Explain to Grandma for me,” he said. “Violet saved my life once. I can’t leave her.” I stood roadside, watching his taillights fade. This wasn’t new. He’d ditched my birthday for her gala dress, ignored my fever for her therapy. Now, Grandma’s final wish still lost to Violet. At 3 A.M., Grandma squeezed my hand, voice thin. “Is he here, sweetheart?” I forced a smile. “Almost.” But she died before he came. I closed her eyes and tucked her wedding gift, the red envelope she’d clutched all night, into the bedside drawer. His text lit my screen: Violet’s asleep. Heading over now. I didn’t reply. Just shut the drawer, locking away the girl who’d waited seven years. … On the day of my grandmother’s funeral, I didn’t tell Peter. I hired the hearse myself. I held her urn myself. I stood on the windy hillside of my hometown, watching the gravediggers fill the dirt, entirely by myself. My aunt was sobbing so hard she could barely stand. She grabbed my arm, her voice thick with grief and anger. “Freya, where is that man of yours? Your grandmother is gone, and he can’t even show his face?” “He’s busy.” My throat was completely raw. I couldn’t bring myself to say another word. When the last shovel of dirt was patted down, I crouched in front of the headstone and placed a plate of her favorite lemon bars on the grass. My phone vibrated. It was Peter. His tone was surprisingly warm. “Freya, I’m at the furniture showroom looking at dining tables for the new house. Do you like the round mahogany one, or the long rectangular one?” I gripped the phone, freezing for a few seconds. It had been a very long time since he asked me what I liked. Just as I opened my mouth to answer, Violet’s voice drifted through the receiver. “Peter, definitely the rectangular one. Freya only has a few relatives anyway, right? It’s plenty of space.” Peter hummed in agreement, then asked me, “What do you think?” “I…” “Oh, and look at this credenza!” Violet must have leaned closer to his phone, because her voice was crystal clear. “The white is way too boring. The walnut finish looks much more expensive. Freya always dresses so plain, you don’t want the house to look depressing too, right?” Peter let out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. She doesn’t really have an eye for these things.” My knuckles turned white. I had wanted the round table. Because my grandmother always told me that when a family eats, they should sit in a circle, facing each other. That’s what makes a home. Peter was still talking. “Freya, why are you so quiet? Which one do you want?” Violet’s voice took on a sweet, coaxing tone in the background. “Peter, let’s just get this set. I’m sure Freya won’t mind. She is always so easygoing.” Hearing the word easygoing made me feel incredibly, profoundly tired. Peter and I had been together for years, and things had always been good. But ever since his old professor returned from Europe and brought Violet back with him, I realized some things had never actually changed. Back in college, they were the golden couple of their department. They were completely in sync. Even their professors used to lament that it was a tragedy they never dated. When Violet came back, that unspoken chemistry became impossible to ignore. Peter was entirely used to listening to her. He consulted her on corporate strategy, and subconsciously deferred to her on personal choices. And Violet acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. She managed his schedule, made decisions for him, and practically arranged his life. Most of the time, she would finalize everything before casually tossing an apology my way. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Freya. Did I overstep?” From the dining table to the living room sofa, to the curtains and our bedsheets. It was supposed to be the house I was moving into, but I couldn’t even get a single word of input in. I stayed silent for a long time before finally saying, “Whatever you guys want.” The line went quiet for a second. Peter sounded relieved. “Alright, we’ll go with Violet’s choice.” I hung up the phone and gently pressed the last lemon bar into the dirt. “I’m sorry, Grammy. I’m sorry I have to leave you here all alone.” On the bus ride back to the city, Peter called me again. This time, he sounded rushed. “Freya, I heard you went back to your hometown by yourself? Why didn’t you tell me? I’ll drive up tomorrow so we can go see your grandmother together.” I stared out the window. She was already buried in the ground, and he didn’t even know she was dead. “Don’t bother. The funeral is over.” Dead silence on the other end. Then, his voice cracked slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me? I…” The call abruptly disconnected. Violet probably needed him again. That afternoon, Peter’s mother called me. The second I answered, she launched right in. “Freya, I heard your grandmother passed away. My condolences.” “But the wedding is only two weeks away. Keep the mourning period brief and low-key. We don’t want any bad luck ruining the ceremony.” I gripped the phone tightly. She kept going. “Peter has been under a lot of stress lately, and Violet’s health is so fragile. Don’t go piling your emotional baggage onto him.” “Violet is going to be your maid of honor. She has a weak constitution, so don’t make her run around doing chores on the wedding day. You don’t have many relatives on your side anyway, so just keep the itinerary simple.” I closed my eyes. “I don’t have any relatives.” She paused for a second, completely ignoring what I said. “Just make sure the wedding goes smoothly. If your grandmother were still here, she would want you to marry into our family with dignity.” Of course my grandmother wanted me to have a beautiful wedding. That was why she held onto that red envelope all night, waiting for him. But none of them cared. That night, I opened Instagram. Violet had posted a new story. It was a selfie of her and Peter at an exclusive sushi restaurant. She was holding a piece of salmon with her chopsticks, tilting her head and smiling brightly at the camera. Peter was sitting across from her. His face wasn’t in the frame, but I instantly recognized the expensive watch on the wrist of the man pouring soy sauce onto her plate. The caption read: So grateful for Peter taking time out of his crazy schedule to feed me. This sick girl is very touched. It was posted at 6:00 PM. The exact same time I told him my grandmother was buried in the ground, he was pouring soy sauce for Violet. I placed my phone face down on the mattress and rolled over. I stared at the ceiling for a very, very long time. Three days after I returned to the city, I went to the wedding planner’s office. The receptionist recognized me immediately and smiled warmly. “Miss Davis! Violet was just here this morning to sign off on the final proofs for the invitations.” “Final proofs?” “Yes, for the invites.” She pulled out a sample from a folder and handed it to me. “Violet said you gave her full authorization, so we went ahead and had her sign the approval forms.” I looked down at the heavy cardstock. The font had been completely changed. Beneath the gold-foiled names, the monogram read PC. P for Prescott. Peter’s last name. “What does the C stand for?” The receptionist looked slightly confused. She checked her notes. “Oh, Violet said the bride’s middle name is Claire.” Claire? Violet’s middle name was Claire. I stared at the monogram and let out a soft, dry laugh. “Cancel the wedding.” The receptionist froze. “I’m sorry, Miss Davis, what did you say?” “Terminate the contract. You can keep the deposit. I will pay whatever the cancellation fee is.” I placed my platinum credit card onto the marble counter. The receptionist panicked and made three frantic phone calls. The lead planner rushed into the lobby, gently grabbing my hand. “Miss Davis, did you and Mr. Prescott have a fight? Please, take some time to think this over! If Violet did something…” “This has nothing to do with her.” I signed the termination paperwork and stood up. As I turned around, Violet walked through the glass doors. She was wearing a pristine white sundress, carrying the designer handbag Peter had bought her last month. When she saw me, she blinked in surprise, then smiled brightly and walked over. “Freya! You’re here too? I was just looking for you to talk about the bridesmaid dresses…” “Don’t worry about it. You can just talk to the planner.” I stepped around her, heading for the door. She quickly chased after me, grabbing my wrist. “Freya, are you mad at me? Is this about the dessert menu? I swear I wasn’t trying to overstep, I just genuinely thought cranberry matched the color palette better…” I looked down at her hand. Pale, delicate, with perfectly manicured nails painted a soft blush pink. It made me think of my grandmother’s gnarled, arthritis-ridden hands. “Violet.” I gently pulled my wrist out of her grip. “I picked the lemon bars because my grandmother loved lemon.” Her face went completely rigid for a split second. Then, she instantly slipped back into her victim persona, her eyes wide and innocent. “I had no idea… Freya, why didn’t you just tell me? If I had known, I never would have changed it!” Seven years. Every single time, it was always Why didn’t you just tell me? When I did tell her, she pretended she didn’t hear it. When I stayed quiet, she assumed I was fine with whatever she wanted. “It’s fine,” I smiled faintly. “Your choice was perfect.” “I have to go.” When I walked out of the building, the glaring afternoon sun made me dizzy. My stomach started burning again. It was a dull, heavy, rhythmic pain. It started three months ago, and the flare-ups were getting worse. I leaned against a concrete pillar by the sidewalk, dug a bottle out of my purse, and dry-swallowed two painkillers. The day I got my diagnosis three months ago, I sat on a hard plastic chair in the oncology ward and called Peter. He didn’t pick up until the seventh try. The background was loud, and I could hear a woman crying hysterically. “Freya,” he said quickly, “Violet is having a panic attack. I can’t leave her right now. Whatever it is, we’ll talk tonight.” I gripped the phone. “Peter, my biopsy results came back. The doctor said…” He cut me off. “Hold on, Violet, stop crying, I’m right here.” “Freya, what did you say? The signal is terrible. We’ll talk when I get home.” The line clicked dead. That night, he came home completely exhausted and fell asleep on the living room sofa. His phone was lying face-up on the coffee table. The screen lit up. It was a text from Violet: Peter, thank you so much for being there for me today. You must be exhausted. Go straight to sleep. Goodnight. She attached a little kissing emoji. I stood behind the sofa, staring at that message for a very long time. Then I walked into the study, folded up my pathology report, and slipped it into the back of my journal. I never brought it up again. After leaving the wedding planner’s office, I went to Peter’s corporate headquarters. My stomach clamped down again. Leaning against the wall of the elevator, I swallowed two more painkillers. The receptionist smiled brightly when she saw me. “Mrs. Prescott! The boss is in a meeting right now. Do you want me to let him know you’re here?” I placed a thick manila envelope on her desk. “No need. Just give this to him.” She looked confused. “You aren’t going to wait for him?” “No.” As I walked past Peter’s corner office, the heavy oak door was slightly ajar. I could hear Violet’s voice coming through the speakerphone. “Peter, this penthouse is gorgeous. It even has an en-suite bathroom in the guest room. It’ll be so convenient when I come crash at your place.” Peter’s deep voice replied, “Show it to Freya first. If she likes it, we’ll buy it.” Violet let out a bubbly laugh. “Are you kidding? Freya is going to love whatever you give her. You could put her in a studio apartment in the slums and she would still think you were treating her like a queen.” “Don’t talk about her like that,” Peter said softly. But there was absolutely no anger in his voice. Violet asked, “So we’re going with the invitation design I approved this morning? You don’t think Freya is going to suddenly throw a fit and change her mind?” Peter chuckled. “What is she going to do?” “The wedding is in two weeks. She might pout for a couple of days, but she’ll get over it.” Violet sounded relieved. “I really thought she was actually mad at me today.” “She isn’t that kind of person.” His voice was overflowing with absolute certainty. “She would never leave me.” Standing in the hallway, I felt an overwhelming urge to laugh. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how much I loved him. He knew it perfectly. That was exactly why my compromises, my silence, and my suffering were the foundation of his arrogance. He was absolutely certain I would never walk away. He was certain that no matter how many times he turned his back on me to run to Violet, I would always be standing in the exact same spot, waiting for him. Just like the night my grandmother was dying. When he turned the car around, he didn’t even glance at me in the passenger seat. Because he knew I would cover for him. He knew I would make excuses to my family and swallow every ounce of my own humiliation to protect his image. I didn’t stay to listen to the rest of the call. I turned around and walked back to the elevator. When I reached the ground floor lobby, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Peter. What is the meaning of the security badge and the house keys? I didn’t reply. A second message came through. Freya, what kind of game are you playing now? Then a third. The wedding is in two weeks. Stop acting like a child and embarrassing us. I stared at the screen, feeling an unbearable exhaustion settling into my bones. I turned off my phone, hailed a cab, and went back to the apartment. When Peter’s executive meeting ended, the receptionist walked into his office and handed him the manila envelope. “Mr. Prescott, Miss Davis dropped this off earlier and asked me to give it to you.” Peter opened the flap and looked inside. He frowned deeply. Violet, who was sitting on the sofa across from his desk, asked softly, “Did I do something wrong? Is Freya upset with me again?” Peter tossed the envelope into his desk drawer. “She’s just throwing a tantrum.” “She wouldn’t even cancel a dinner reservation without asking me. Where is she going to go?” He picked up his phone and typed a message to Freya. I’m coming home tonight. We are going to sit down and talk. A few minutes later, he added one more text. Enough is enough. Drop the act. No reply. Peter stared at the chat log. He felt a flicker of annoyance, but zero panic. Every single time they fought in the past, Freya was always the one to apologize first. This time would be no different. Violet tilted her head. “Peter, are we still going to that omakase place tonight?” Peter checked his Rolex. “Yes.” “I’ll take you back to your apartment after dinner, and then I’ll go deal with her.” Violet giggled. “Won’t she be even more furious if you’re late?” Peter grabbed his suit jacket, his tone completely nonchalant. “She has been obsessed with me for seven years. She isn’t actually mad.” “She can’t live without me.” When I got back to the apartment, I started packing. I had lived in this place for four years, but everything that truly belonged to me fit into a single suitcase. I packed my passport, my medical records, and a few sweaters. When I opened the nightstand drawer, I saw the red envelope my grandmother had prepared for Peter. The red paper was deeply creased from how tightly she had been holding it. I put it in my bag. While clearing out the closet, my hand brushed against a blush-pink silk robe. Embroidered on the inside collar were two cursive initials. C.N. Claire Nan. Violet. I stared at those two letters for a very long time. Suddenly, the pain stopped. Not the burning in my stomach. But the place where my heart was. It had finally gone completely numb. The place I thought was my home had always made room for someone else. It just didn’t have room for me. I didn’t take a picture. I didn’t draft an angry text. I just carefully folded the silk robe and placed it perfectly in the center of the mattress. Then I took all of Peter’s tailored shirts off their hangers and folded them neatly next to it. My phone rang. It was the landlord. “Hey Freya, you really terminating the lease today? Aren’t you and Peter getting married next week?” “The wedding is off,” I said quietly. The landlord was silent for a moment. “Alright. Just drop the keys in the mailbox.” I hung up the phone and walked out, dropping the spare key into the metal slot. By the time I dragged my suitcase out of the lobby, the sun had already set. The gardenia bushes by the front gate were in full bloom. My grandmother loved gardenias. She used to tell me that a person should live like a gardenia. You don’t have to fight for attention, but you should always know your own worth. But I had spent seven years waiting. And all I got was her dying with a broken heart. I gripped the handle of my suitcase and flagged down a taxi. The driver looked in the rearview mirror. “Where to?” I stared out the window into the dark city streets. “The train station.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “534501”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day I was supposed to marry Ethan Miller, I shockingly overslept. When I finally rushed to the wedding venue, my sister, Claire, was standing at the altar. She had the exact same face as me, and she was exchanging wedding rings with my fiancé. I stood frozen. I knew. He had “mistaken” her for me. Again. Claire and I are identical twins. In the five years I had been with Ethan, he mixed us up constantly. When we went shopping, he would accidentally grab Claire’s hand. When we were supposed to meet his parents, he somehow ended up taking Claire instead. Just as I was about to lift my wedding gown and storm the stage, my phone buzzed violently in my hand. It was a FaceTime call from an unknown number. I swiped to answer. The woman on the screen had graying hair and looked completely withered, like a ghost. “Don’t go up there!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “After today, everyone you love will turn their backs on you. You will end up dying alone in a psychiatric hospital!” I took a hesitant step forward. But the woman on the screen went wild with panic. “No! Don’t! I am you, ten years from now! The one he loves isn’t you—it’s Claire!” That stopped me dead in my tracks.

I stood frozen in the back of the hall, my eyes locked on the couple on stage. Under the celebrant’s direction, they smiled and slid the ring onto each other’s fingers—the very ring I had spent six months picking out. My voice shook as I whispered into the phone, “What do you mean, he loves Claire?” The woman on the screen choked back a sob, as if reliving a nightmare. “Oversleeping wasn’t an accident. Ethan put sleeping pills in the milk he gave you last night.” My mind went blank. I couldn’t process her words. But she didn’t stop. “Ethan wanted to marry Claire all along. He planned this for three months. Claire, your parents… they all knew.” “In the original timeline, you ran up and ruined the wedding. Everyone blamed you for driving Claire to a breakdown. She jumped from a building, and you took the blame.” My body went numb. My lips parted, but no sound came out. “They hated you for Claire’s death. Your parents disowned you, and Ethan divorced you, leaving you with nothing.” “Don’t go, Chloe. Let’s just leave. Let’s go home, okay…?” The woman looked at me, her eyes filled with desperate pleading. I bit my lower lip so hard it bled. I didn’t say a word. The next second, with a sharp rip, I tore the delicate lace of my wedding dress—the gown I had tried on a hundred times. “Chloe… what are you doing?” the woman on the screen gasped. I stared coldly at the stage. My parents, my sister, and my fiancé. A happy family of four, smiling and laughing. “It’s their lie,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “Why should I be the one to run away?” I hung up, went to the dressing room, and borrowed a simple casual outfit from one of the hotel staff. Then, under the gaze of the guests, I walked out from backstage. Ethan was the first to notice me. His face instantly went pale, and he shot me a warning, threatening look. I knew what he was afraid of. He was terrified I would expose this pathetic circus. But I acted like I didn’t even see him. After all, at this moment, I wasn’t his bride, Chloe Vance. I was supposed to be the “sister” who arrived late, Claire. “Where the hell have you been? Why are you so late?” My mother grabbed my arm, dragging me to a corner table with an annoyed scowl. “Don’t blame Claire. We banged on your door, but you wouldn’t wake up. The ceremony had to start, so I told Claire to fill in for you.” “Anyway, you two look exactly the same. The guests can’t tell. Once the reception is over, make sure you thank Claire properly.” I looked at her, a bitter, acidic feeling rising in my chest. Yeah. It wasn’t just the guests who couldn’t tell us apart. My own parents never could. Or rather, they never cared to. When we were in high school, Claire skipped her classes to go to a wild party. The moment my mother found out, she marched into my AP History class, dragged me out by my collar, and slapped me in front of everyone. Even my teacher tried to explain that I had been in class all day. But my mother refused to believe it. She just glared at me with pure hatred. “You don’t know Chloe, Principal. She is a pathological liar! She obviously skipped class and set up her sister to take the fall.” “My sweet Claire would never do such a thing!” No matter how much proof I showed her, she never believed me. In her eyes, I was always the culprit. If a neighbor’s window was broken, it was me. If the TV was ruined, it was me. Even when we applied for college and both got accepted to NYU, she convinced herself that I had forged my admission letter just to steal Claire’s spotlight. She made dozens of angry calls to the admissions office, trying to get my acceptance revoked. It only stopped when our high school principal personally intervened. The romantic wedding music echoed through the hall, pounding against my eardrums. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. “Did I ask her to stand in for me?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Or did you all know I wouldn’t wake up? This wedding… it was planned for Claire from the very beginning, wasn’t it?” My mother’s face turned white. Caught in her lie, she exploded in fury. “You ungrateful brat! What garbage are you spewing?” “Claire saved your reputation, and this is how you treat her?” Some nearby relatives noticed the tension and tried to play peacemaker. “Hey, why are you two arguing at a wedding?” “Mrs. Vance, didn’t you always say Claire is your favorite, your perfect angel? Why are you yelling at her today?” I screamed silently in my mind. Of course she’s yelling. Because I’m not her precious Claire. I am Chloe, the daughter she has detested since the day I was born. My mother choked on her words, coughing awkwardly to change the subject. On stage, the ceremony was ending. The two of them looked at each other with deep, sickening affection. During the applause, Ethan cast a brief, guilty glance at me before quickly looking away. Then, before all the guests, he leaned down and kissed her. I stared at them. Without realizing it, my hand had found the steak knife on the table. I gripped the blade tightly. By the time they parted on stage, my hand was soaked in blood. The sharp, burning pain finally registered. But I couldn’t tell if the pain was coming from my hand, or my heart.

As the kiss ended, the hall erupted in applause. Nobody noticed the small pool of blood forming at my feet. Clenching my bleeding palm, I asked a waiter for a bandage and went to the restroom to quickly wrap it up. On my phone screen, Future Chloe was sobbing uncontrollably. “Chloe, please don’t hurt yourself like this. Let’s just leave them behind, okay?” I kept my head down, wrapping the bandage tight. “Okay.” She gasped. “Really?” “Just now, I sent an email to Sarah. I’m accepting the transfer to the high-security project in London. We leave in three days. I’m leaving this city forever.” I looked up at the screen. She was only ten years older than me, but her hair was gray, and she looked like she was in her sixties. “I won’t let anyone destroy my life again,” I told her. “I’m going to give us a real future.” When I walked out of the restroom, Ethan and Claire were waiting for me. Claire immediately looked down, looking guilty. Ethan stepped in front of her, protecting her like a shield, and glared at me like a judge. “Chloe, what is wrong with you? How do you oversleep on your own wedding day? Claire had to clean up your mess!” Claire tugged at Ethan’s sleeve, pretending to be meek. “Ethan, don’t. It’s fine.” She turned to me with a fake, pitying smile. “Chloe, don’t worry. I know you were nervous. It’s totally normal to oversleep before a wedding.” “Don’t worry, Ethan and I got through the vows smoothly.” Vows? The rings? Or… the kiss? Her sweet, understanding act made me look like the crazy, hysterical one. Even though I was the victim here. I looked at the wedding gown Claire was wearing. I recognized it. When I had dragged Ethan to go wedding dress shopping, Claire had tagged along. She got excited and tried on that exact gown. When I stepped out of my fitting room, Ethan was busy taking dozens of photos of Claire on his phone. “Claire, you look stunning. This dress was made for you,” he had said, his eyes shining. But when I walked over in my gown, he quickly put his phone away and barely glanced at me. “It’s fine,” he had muttered. It wasn’t a mistake. It never mattered how I looked in a wedding dress. Because the bride he wanted at the altar was Claire, not me. I looked at them standing hand-in-hand and let out a cold, hollow laugh. “Since you two are so good at taking my place, why don’t you go ahead and spend the wedding night together too, Claire?” Claire gasped, looking deeply insulted, and her eyes immediately welled with tears. Ethan’s face turned thunderous. “Chloe, shut up! How can you say something so disgusting?” “If you two can do it, why can’t I say it?” Ethan’s jaw clenched. He took a step toward me, but suddenly stopped. His eyes fell on my hand. The thick bandage was already soaked through with fresh, red blood. His anger instantly vanished, replaced by sudden panic. He grabbed my hand. “What happened to your hand? Why didn’t you go to the hospital? Come on, I’m taking you right now.” He tried to pull me toward the exit, but Claire called out from behind him. “Ethan!” He froze. “The guests are still here. If you leave now…” She looked at us with a pitiful, conflicted expression. After a few painful seconds of hesitation, Ethan let go of my hand. “I’ll take you to the ER right after the reception, okay?” he whispered. I just stared at him and nodded slowly. For a split second, I actually thought the old Ethan had come back—the man who once swore he would never mix us up, who promised to love and protect me forever. It was just a pathetic illusion. Compared to Claire’s reputation and feelings, my bleeding hand was nothing. He patted my head, giving me a rare, relieved smile. “Good girl. I knew you’d understand.” “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.” With that, he let go of my hand and walked back to Claire’s side. I watched his retreating back. But Ethan, we don’t have a tomorrow.

My transfer request was processed immediately. Sarah, my manager, called me to confirm. “Are you sure about this, Chloe? I tried to convince you so many times and you refused. Why the sudden change of heart right before the deadline?” “Are you really ready to leave your handsome fiancé behind?” I looked through the glass doors of the banquet hall. Ethan was currently laughing and drinking with his college friends, holding Claire’s hand. “Yes,” I said quietly. “We broke up.” The line went silent for a few seconds. Sarah was smart enough not to push. “Alright. Your flight is the day after tomorrow. I’ll email you the details.” “Keep in mind, Chloe… this project means you’ll be in London for at least several years.” “I know,” I replied. I had no intention of ever coming back. When I walked back to the reception, Ethan was surrounded by his old fraternity brothers. They were all drunk, laughing loudly. As I approached, his chubby friend, Ben, grabbed my arm and pointed at Ethan. “Claire! You have no idea how crazy this guy was for you in college. He did everything to get your attention, but you ignored him and went off with another guy. He was depressed for six months!” I had heard rumors about Ethan pursuing Claire in college. We were in different departments back then, so I only knew vague details. I didn’t realize he had been that obsessed. Ben, clearly too drunk to filter his mouth, laughed loudly. “I still remember when this idiot said if he couldn’t have the older sister, he’d settle for the younger one as a rebound. It was like a twin fantasy come true. But damn, who knew he’d actually get stuck with her!” The table instantly went dead silent. My brain buzzed, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. So that was why he always “accidentally” held Claire’s hand. That was why his parents liked Claire so much better when they first met. Then why did he propose to me? Why did he bring me to meet his family? It turned out that in both my family and my relationship, I was nothing but Claire’s second-choice replacement. “What the hell are you talking about?!” Ethan snapped, slamming his glass down. He shoved Ben away and frantically grabbed my hand. “Chloe, he’s wasted. He’s talking nonsense. Don’t listen to him.” My vision blurred with tears. I yanked my hand back with all my strength. “Ethan, you are disgusting. We are done.” Ethan panicked, trying to pull me into his arms. “Chloe, stop making a scene! Why would we break up? Today is our wedding day! Don’t overthink it, I’ll explain everything when we get home.” I pushed him away, my voice cutting through the air. “Wedding? The bride you married today is Claire, isn’t it?” “The sleeping pills in my milk—that was you, wasn’t it?” “Ethan, the person you wanted to marry was always Claire. I don’t get it. Why are you still acting?” His face drained of color. “Who… who told you that?” Seeing his reaction, even though I already knew the truth, a wave of profound nausea hit me. I gripped my wounded hand, intentionally ripping the healing cut open again. I forced myself to look him in the eye. “Ethan, I hate you.” Our argument was drawing a crowd. To the guests, Claire was the one in the wedding dress, which meant they thought I was the “sister” Claire making a scene with the groom. Whispers started spreading like wildfire. Claire stepped in, taking Ethan’s hand with an air of fragile grace. “Ethan, let’s talk about this at home. Right now, I am Chloe. I am your bride.” She placed extra emphasis on the last words. Ethan regained his composure. With red eyes, he took a step back, distancing himself from me. Watching him back away, a wave of pure disgust washed over me. For Claire, he would do anything. Even though she had another boyfriend. Even if it meant using me as a pathetic substitute. And now, to protect Claire’s reputation, he could throw me to the wolves of public gossip without a second thought.

I turned to leave, but a sudden, terrifying screech of metal echoed from above. Before I could react, the massive steel rigging of the main chandelier snapped, crashing down toward the center of the hall. At almost the exact same moment, Ethan, who was standing closest to me, didn’t hesitate. He threw himself over Claire, shielding her with his body. The hall erupted into pure chaos. Screams and crashes filled the air. I felt a violent impact crush my legs and back, and everything went black as I slammed into the floor. After Ethan dragged Claire to a safe corner, he finally realized I was trapped under the debris. He turned to run back. “Ethan!” Claire sobbed, holding onto him. Ethan froze. He gritted his teeth and turned back to her. “Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?” Claire, clutching a minor scratch on her forehead, whimpered, “I’m okay… go look for Chloe. She’s trapped under there.” “Don’t worry about her! She’s always been tough. She’ll be fine!” My mother’s voice cut in as she rushed over, completely ignoring the pile of rubble where I lay. I was trapped only a few yards away. Every single word they said pierced through the ringing in my ears. My fading heartbeat went completely cold. When the rescue team finally pulled me out from under the steel frames, my legs and face were covered in deep, bloody gashes from the shattered glass of the chandelier. The excruciating pain kept me from making a sound. As they loaded me onto a stretcher, Claire suddenly let out a dramatic cry. “Ethan, my head hurts so bad!” My mother panicked. “Oh my god, she must have a concussion! Doctor! Save her first!” The paramedic looked at me on the stretcher, conflicted. “But this patient…” A desperate urge to survive made me force my eyes open. I reached out with my bloody hand, grabbing Ethan’s sleeve, silently begging him with my eyes. His eyes were red, and his throat bobbed. In the end, he averted his gaze, unable to look me in the eye. Amid the chaotic noise of the hall, his voice was horribly clear. “Save Claire first.” An overwhelming wave of exhaustion washed over me. I closed my eyes, and the world finally went silent. By the time I woke up, it was the next afternoon. My face was wrapped in thick, heavy bandages. Outside my door, two nurses were gossiping as they walked by. “The patient in Room 522 is so lucky. Her room is packed with flowers. Her parents and her fiancé haven’t left her side for a second.” “I know, right? But the girl in this room… she’s hurt so badly, and not a single person has come to visit her.” “Their names are so similar too. Claire Vance and Chloe Vance.” Listening to them, I licked my dry, cracked lips. The water pitcher on my nightstand was empty. My throat felt like it was on fire. I slowly pushed myself up. My hand brushed against the bandages on my face. I froze. I picked up the small mirror on the nightstand. In the reflection, the face that used to look exactly like Claire’s was gone. In its place was a horrific, jagged wound stretching across my cheek, held together by ugly stitches. It looked like a monstrous centipede. I stared at it, and then, I began to laugh. It was so ironic, yet so liberating. I had spent my entire life wishing to escape sharing a face with Claire. I never thought it would happen like this. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Sarah. “Chloe, the flight has been rescheduled. We leave tonight. Are you ready?” “Yes,” I said. “I’ll be there.” Half an hour later, ignoring the doctors’ protests, I signed my own discharge papers. As the plane lifted off into the clouds, a profound, long-awaited sense of peace finally filled my chest. Meanwhile, having finally heard that I was awake, Ethan pushed open my hospital room door. His eyes widened in shock. The bed was empty.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455537”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

At the class party after the SATs, someone suggested playing a game of “Expose Your Friends.” In the first round, the bottle spun and pointed at Chloe Jenkins and me. She jumped at the chance to speak first. “Sera never wears skirts because she has a massive, ugly scar on her thigh that looks like a giant centipede.” In an instant, everyone’s eyes locked onto my legs, covered by my long jeans. Only Ethan Sinclair knew about that scar. He had promised me he would keep it a secret forever. Yet right now, he was laughing the loudest. “Yeah, it’s honestly super gross!” Ethan chimed in. When it was my turn to speak, Ethan suddenly covered my mouth. The crowd started teasing us. “Oh, come on! You’re being way too protective, Ethan. Sera hasn’t even exposed Chloe yet, and you’re already shielding her.” “No way, you and Chloe have to kiss as a penalty!” With a flushed face, Ethan grabbed Chloe by the back of her neck and kissed her deeply right in front of everyone. The air conditioning in the room blasted cold air over me, making me shiver. I placed my hand on my thigh—the exact spot where I had received forty-two stitches years ago to save Ethan’s life. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Lucas Vance: [Come to Harvard with me. Let’s go to the same college, please?] I typed back: [Okay.]

After returning from the restroom, I overheard people chatting and mentioning my name. “Ethan, did your little childhood friend run off to cry because her secret was exposed? By the way, have you actually seen her scar?” Ethan had a look of pure disgust on his face. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. Trust me, it’s the kind of scar you only want to see once in your life.” Chloe leaned close to Ethan’s side. “How about you purposely lose the next round? Choose ‘Dare’ and pull her pants up so we can all get a look.” Ethan carelessly wrapped his arm around her waist. “Why waste a game on that? I don’t even need to ask twice. One word from me, and she’ll take them off and show me herself.” Chloe’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I want to take a picture!” “Me too!” another classmate yelled. Ethan stood up, clapping his hands. “Anyone else want to see? Let me know, and I’ll make sure she shows you for a little longer!” I gripped the door handle, my knuckles turning white. When I was ten, Ethan and I went to the grocery store. A sudden gust of wind blew a heavy metal billboard down, heading straight for him. I pushed him out of the way. The sharp metal sheet sliced deep into my thigh. Blood wouldn’t stop gushing, and I almost lost my leg. I cried for two days and nights in the hospital. Ethan stayed by my side, carefully helping me apply my ointment. The boy who swore he would never find it ugly, the boy who promised never to tell a soul, was now using my pain to entertain the crowd. Seeing me walk back in, Chloe gave Ethan a look. Ethan looked at my thighs with a playful smirk. “Sera, this might be the last time we all hang out. Since we’re classmates, why don’t you let everyone see your scar?” I tightly shielded my legs. “No.” Ethan’s face hardened, and his brows furrowed. “It’s just a scar, what’s the big deal? Stop being so dramatic.” Chloe stepped in to play the peacemaker. “Sera, are you mad because I took your turn during the game earlier?” “You really don’t know how to take a joke.” She playfully tapped Ethan’s back and turned to me. “Sera, see? I hit him for you. Are you happy now?” “I said no.” Ethan pulled Chloe back. “Don’t waste your breath on her.” Two minutes later, everyone’s phone buzzed. Except mine. Everyone stared at their screens for a few seconds, then looked at me, stifling their laughter. Chloe patted my shoulder. “Sera, the scar isn’t even that bad. Why are you hiding it? Girls need to be confident.” She shoved her phone in front of my face. Ethan had posted a photo of my freshly stitched thigh from years ago into the Snapchat group. The photo was so high up it even showed my underwear. A wave of anger and humiliation washed over me. “Ethan, you spoil Chloe too much. But her SAT scores aren’t as good as yours. When she gets bullied in college, are you going to fly over to save her?” “It’s just a matter of skipping a few math questions on purpose so we end up at the same place,” Ethan said casually. Chloe spoke in a sweet, whiny voice. “Did you change your college application without telling Sera? She’s going to cry herself to death if she doesn’t go to the same school as you.” “I know her,” Ethan sneered. “She’ll follow me no matter what.” “A genius girl going to a local community college for love? That’s going to be front-page news.” Three years ago, he told me, “If you tutor me so we can go to the same college, we never have to be apart.” Because of those words, I chased after him for three years. Every single weekend, rain or shine, I went to his house to tutor him. The dark circles under my eyes were the result of staying up late for three years, preparing study guides, organizing his mock exams, and making study plans. But my three years of hard work had turned into a joke in his mouth. My phone alarm went off, reminding me to finalize my college enrollment. I opened the portal and changed my choice to Harvard University, thousands of miles away. To each their own. This time, I was done chasing him.

“What are you looking at?” Chloe suddenly leaned over. I locked my screen. “Nothing.” “I clearly saw you changing your college portal. Sera, are you really retaking the SATs just for Ethan?” Before I could argue, Chloe patted my shoulder. “It’s fine, I know you’re embarrassed. You want to surprise him, right? I won’t tell.” The party ended quickly. When I walked out, Ethan was nowhere to be seen. I waited for half an hour until everyone had left, but he still didn’t show up. “Has Ethan not come out yet?” I asked a classmate. “He left ages ago. He got in an Uber with Chloe.” But before the party, he had told me to wait for him at the entrance. Just then, Ethan called. “Are you out yet? It’s late, and it’s not safe for Chloe to go home alone.” “I’ll drop her off first and then come back to get you.” Chloe’s voice came through the speaker: “Sera, if you’re in a hurry, I can let him go back for you right now.” “What rush could she possibly be in?” Ethan snapped. “Besides, it’s about to storm, and you’re terrified of thunder. I need to stay with you.” A sudden crack of thunder sounded, and the line went dead. When we were kids and I was terrified of thunder, I begged Ethan to walk with me to school. He complained I was a nuisance and walked faster to leave me behind. Now, not only did he remember Chloe’s fear of thunder, but he also insisted on staying with her. I bit my lip hard to keep the tears from falling. Chloe’s house was only seven miles away, but an hour and a half passed, and Ethan still hadn’t returned. I opened Instagram. He had posted a story. “My little greedy girl got hungry again, so I had to take her out for round two.” The picture showed the two of them feeding each other at a restaurant. I stared at the food on the table. Ethan had never cooked for me, nor had he ever taken me to a nice dinner. He only ever criticized my UberEats orders, telling me, “Stop eating junk, it’s bad for you.” I looked down at my soaked dress, laughed at my own stupidity, and called an Uber home. By dawn, my body was aching. I checked my temperature—100.8°F. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Ethan. A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. [Chloe’s swim goggles broke. Buy a new pair and bring them over.] No explanation for why he never came back for me. No question about whether I made it home safe. Just treating me like an errand girl. [Go directly to the pro shop downtown. Don’t get the rubber ones, Chloe is allergic.] Going downtown and back would take two and a half hours. To make sure they had them when they woke up to go swimming, he texted me before the sun was even up. I didn’t reply and closed Snapchat. I slept again, and when I woke up, my fever was gone. Ethan called again. “Why aren’t you replying? Did you get the goggles? Chloe is waiting. Can you hurry up?” In the past, when I asked him to teach me how to swim, he always said he was too busy with school and we would do it after the SATs. It had been weeks since exams ended, and he hadn’t mentioned it once. Instead, he was teaching Chloe. “I have a fever.” Silence on the other end. “Don’t you have anything else to say?” I asked. “You clearly have enough energy to argue with me, which means you’re fine.” “Drop them off at the pool near Chloe’s house. Don’t go to the wrong one.” I didn’t go. I warmed up some food instead. I remembered my library books were due today. After returning them, I checked out two more books. Walking out of the library, I saw Chloe and Ethan buying matching bracelets at a boutique. Ethan threw the braided friendship bracelet on his wrist into a trash can and replaced it with a pink one that matched Chloe’s. That braided bracelet was a good-luck charm I had spent hours making for him before the exams. “Sera? What are you doing here?” Chloe asked. Ethan pulled her back. “Stay away from her. You might catch whatever she has.” Chloe pointed at the books in my hand. “Oh, I really wanted to read that book! But they were all out. Do you mind if I borrow it first?” Before I could answer, Ethan snatched the book from my hands. “Go read something else,” he told Chloe. Then he turned to me. “Besides, you need to study to retake your exams next year. Reading novels will only distract you.” That book was out of print, and I had waited on a waitlist for months to get it. I stepped forward to grab it back, but Ethan blocked me and shoved me away. My body was still weak from the fever. My legs gave out, and I fell hard onto the concrete. A sharp, needle-like pain shot through my lower back. “You claimed you had a fever, and I let the goggles slide. But I didn’t expect you to be healthy enough to wander around and fight over a book. Sera, I really underestimated your ability to lie.” “Go home and think about what you did. Don’t contact me until you’ve cleared your head.” As I applied ointment to my bruises at home, I told my mom I wanted to pack our things and move early. I asked her to come with me to Boston. My mom didn’t ask a single question. She just nodded and agreed. Once I left this place, I was never coming back. And I never wanted to see him again.

The next morning, Ethan’s mom, Karen Sinclair, came over to chat with my mom. Ethan and Chloe came along too. He walked into my room without knocking and threw the book onto my desk. The cover smelled like spicy Cheetos, and there were greasy fingerprints all over the pages. The book was checked out under my name. Any damage meant I would have to pay for it. “You need to pay for this,” I said. Ethan picked it up, sniffed it, and said with annoyance: “It’s just a few grease spots. Why are you being so dramatic? Anyone can make a mistake. Is it really necessary to make a big deal out of a stupid book?” I didn’t hold back this time. “The library rules state that if you damage a book, you replace it. Buy a new copy and return it to them.” Chloe nodded submissively. “Okay, Ethan, it was my fault anyway. Don’t yell at her. Sera, how much is it? I’ll Venmo you.” As Chloe reached for her phone, Ethan snatched it away, his voice cold. “Don’t pay her. I don’t believe she doesn’t have the money for this. Let her figure it out herself.” I couldn’t stand looking at them anymore, so I walked into the living room. Karen Sinclair glanced at me. “The book is still readable, isn’t it? It’s just a book. Don’t ruin your friendships over something so small.” She had always treated me poorly. When I was in the hospital after getting forty-two stitches, she came to visit, saw that Ethan was fine, and said, “Thank god you’re okay, sweetie. Her scar doesn’t look that bad anyway. You don’t need to feel guilty, Ethan. She chose to push you. We didn’t force her. Let’s get out of this hospital, it’s full of germs. I’ll make you a nice steak at home.” From beginning to end, she only glanced at my leg once. She never offered a single word of thanks or comfort. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Lucas. [Sera, I just got my official Harvard admission letter! Did yours arrive yet?] I replied with a photo of my own Harvard admission letter. [Awesome! You should fly out early. I can show you around the campus.] There was indeed no reason for me to stay here any longer. I replied: [I booked my flight for next week.] I had no energy left to argue with anyone in the living room. As I turned to leave, Karen grabbed my sleeve, stopping me. “You tutored Ethan every single day. How did he only get into a community college while you did so well? Did you not actually put any effort into helping him?” Ethan added, “She was probably too busy focusing on her own studies.” He was the one who threw the exam on purpose, yet to save face, he threw me under the bus. Chloe blushed and said, “Mrs. Sinclair, Ethan and I are going to the same college. I’ll make sure to watch over him for you.” Karen patted her hand, smiling warmly. “I feel so much better with you around. You’re such a sweet, honest girl. Not like some girls who only care about themselves and don’t care about anyone else.” I clenched my fists so hard my fingernails dug into my palms. All those three years of devotion felt completely worthless. Every time I went to Ethan’s house to tutor him, his mother would either chop vegetables loudly or blast the TV. She always made so much noise. I couldn’t teach him at a normal volume, so I had to strain my voice and yell. My throat would be burning by the end of the night, and I was never even offered a glass of water. Now, I had to carry throat lozenges with me everywhere because my vocal cords were permanently damaged. The next day, I saw Chloe’s TikTok video of her at an exclusive, invite-only art exhibition. Our classmates were commenting in envy. [I tried getting tickets to this three times with twenty friends and couldn’t get one! How did you guys get in?] [So lucky! Are you two secretly dating? Where’s Ethan’s little shadow today?] Ethan replied: [She didn’t have a ticket. It’s better this way, she’s annoying anyway.] I zoomed in on the background of the video. It was an exhibition by a famous European painter that I absolutely adored. The ticket included a private signing session and limited-edition merchandise. I had begged my mom to use all her connections just to secure two tickets. I had planned to ask Ethan to go with me. I guess I would be going with my mom instead. I went to find the book where I had tucked the tickets. The book had been knocked over, but I didn’t think much of it. However, when I flipped through the pages, the tickets were gone. I remembered Ethan entering my room to grab something before he left yesterday. A surge of anger rushed to my chest. I was about to comment “Thief” under Chloe’s video, but when I hit submit, the video vanished. Her profile showed she had blocked me. I opened Ethan’s chat. I remembered when we first officially became a couple, he had kissed me gently on the cheek. I had waited three years for that day. But only two months had passed, and I wanted nothing to do with him. I typed out a line: [Let’s break up.]

I left my suitcases in our front yard while my aunt and I went out for a two-day trip. When I got back, my suitcases were gone. I walked over to Ethan’s house. Chloe was there too. They had my suitcases open on the living room floor, going through my things and making a complete mess. “Ethan, I love this limited-edition t-shirt! It’ll look so good on me for freshman orientation,” Chloe squealed. “Take it,” Ethan said carelessly. “She has so many nice toiletries here. I’m going to save so much money on college shopping.” I pushed the door open. “Who gave you permission to touch my suitcases?” Ethan scoffed. “Oh, stop acting. Chloe told me you’re planning to retake your SATs anyway. You won’t be needing these things this year. You can just buy new ones next year.” I screamed at them. “Going through my personal property without my permission is theft!” They ignored me and kept digging through my clothes. Suddenly, Chloe gasped. “An admission letter? From Harvard?” Ethan laughed, snatching it from her hand. “Wow, this fake looks pretty realistic. Did you print this out to motivate yourself? Honestly, you’d be better off printing out my acceptance letter and hanging it on your wall.” I lunged to grab it, but Ethan stepped back, threw the letter onto the floor, and ground his dirty shoe into it. The mud from his sneaker stained the words “Harvard University.” “Give it back!” I screamed, my voice raw with rage. Ethan smirked, twisting his foot back and forth on the paper. With a loud rip, the letter tore in half. That letter was my late father’s biggest dream for me. I hadn’t even had the chance to bring it to his grave to show him, and Ethan had just destroyed it. “Sera, I’m just trying to help you face reality. Stop living in a fantasy world,” Ethan said. He kicked my suitcase over, grabbed a bucket of dirty car-wash water nearby, and poured it over everything. My admission letter, along with all the rare, out-of-print books my father had left me, was completely soaked in muddy water. I threw myself forward to stop them. “Don’t go! You’re going to pay for this!” Ethan stuck his foot out. I tripped and fell face-first onto the gravel. My loose pant leg rolled up, exposing the long, ugly centipede-like scar. Ethan immediately spun Chloe around to shield her eyes. “Don’t look, it’s disgusting.” He picked up a wooden broom nearby and jabbed the end of it right into my scar. The sharp splinters pierced my skin, and blood quickly began to seep through. I winced but didn’t cry out. “You don’t need to keep using this scar to guilt-trip me,” Ethan sneered. “It just makes you look desperate.” I stood up, holding the torn pieces of my admission letter tightly against my chest. My phone buzzed. A notification popped up: Your flight departs in 24 hours. I handed our house keys to the real estate agent, grabbed my ruined suitcase, and left for the airport with my mom.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455536”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My best friend, Melanie, lost her sight in a brutal car accident. Her boyfriend, Tyler, died in the fiery crash. When she woke up in the hospital and realized he was gone, she tried to end her life three times. After her third failed attempt, her parents literally got down on their knees and begged me. “Chloe, please,” Mrs. Miller sobbed, clutching my hand. “She’s our only daughter. If she dies, we won’t survive either. Your boyfriend, Ethan, is about the same height and build as Tyler. Please, just until she recovers, let him pretend to be Tyler. Let him be there for her.” I looked at Melanie, pale and unconscious on the hospital bed. I bit my lip until it bled, and finally, I nodded. From that moment on, my boyfriend became my best friend’s boyfriend. To make it easier to care for Melanie, we all lived together in the townhouse Ethan and I had co-signed. I basically became their live-in housekeeper, cooking and cleaning for them. Six months passed. I came back early from a business trip, eager to surprise Ethan. But as I stood outside the front door, I froze. I could hear voices coming from inside. It was Mrs. Miller. “Melanie’s eyes recovered three months ago. She’s been binge-watching Netflix and shopping on Amazon every single day. If we keep this up, Chloe is going to find out.” Mr. Miller let out a heavy sigh. “If Melanie hadn’t insisted on breaking up with Tyler, he wouldn’t have killed himself. But thank God she didn’t get dragged down with him.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Realizing that my boyfriend and I had been completely played, I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling as I prepared to call Ethan. But the next second, Ethan’s voice echoed from inside the apartment. “Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Miller. I’ll handle the rest. I’ll figure out a way to deal with Chloe. Melanie has suffered so much for me. I won’t let her down.”

I stood outside the door, clutching a handful of shopping bags, my knuckles turning white. I looked down. In my right hand was a bottle of premium, expensive organic eye vitamins I had bought for Melanie. In my left hand were local treats for her parents, and a limited-edition designer watch for Ethan that had taken me weeks to get. Now, every single gift felt like a burning joke in my hands. Inside, Mrs. Miller’s voice started up again. “Melanie has always loved you, Ethan. She only broke up with Tyler because of you. You really can’t let her down now. Now that you’re finally together, you have to see this through.” My heart went completely cold. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the doorbell. The hushed chatter inside stopped instantly. A few seconds later, the door swung open. Mrs. Miller froze when she saw me. A stiff, incredibly forced smile stretched across her face. “Chloe? You’re back! Perfect timing. My husband and I actually have to get going. Something came up at home.” She couldn’t even look me in the eye. She grabbed her purse and practically ran past me out the door. Mr. Miller followed right behind her. Their hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, as if staying a second longer would blow their cover. I walked in, putting my things down on the console, pretending everything was normal. On the living room couch, Melanie was curled up in Ethan’s lap, just like she always was. She was holding a slice of orange, about to feed it to him. But when she heard me close the door, her hand shook, and the orange dropped to the floor. She shrank back into Ethan’s chest, acting terrified. “Tyler… who just came in?” Ethan immediately wrapped his arms around her. He looked up at me, his brow furrowing deeply. “You could have warned us you were coming back early. Walking in without a sound like that—did you want to scare Melanie to death?” Melanie fumbled around to grab his arm, her fingers trembling in a display of sheer panic. “The project wrapped up early, so I took an earlier flight,” I said quietly. I put the gifts on the coffee table and looked at Ethan. He was wearing the cozy lounge set I had bought him. On the collar of his shirt, there was a faint smear of baby-pink lipstick. My gaze darkened. “Well, thank you for bringing these back,” Ethan said, his tone incredibly detached. “Eye vitamins? I heard these are great for recovery and pretty expensive. I’ll thank you on Melanie’s behalf.” Hearing my voice, Melanie seemed to calm down. She reached out to grab the vitamin bottle on the coffee table. Her hand perfectly bypassed the glass of water sitting right next to it, gripping the bottle on her very first try. “Is this for me? Thank you, Chloe. You’re always so sweet to me,” she said, offering me a pure, innocent smile. Ethan frowned at me. “You just got off a flight. Go rest in the guest room. I’ve got things covered with Melanie here.” This was the townhouse Ethan and I had spent six months picking out for our future. Yet, the way he spoke made me feel like an unwelcome stranger. I didn’t say another word. I turned around and walked into the guest room. Later that night, I got up to get a glass of water. As I walked past Melanie’s room, I noticed the door wasn’t fully closed. Every single word they whispered drifted out into the hallway and stabbed straight into my ears. “Ethan, I feel so awful,” Melanie whimpered. “Chloe and I have been best friends for ten years, but I fell for her boyfriend. I’m literally pretending to be blind just to stay in your house and steal you away from her…” “Am I a horrible person?” Ethan’s voice was softer than I had ever heard it. “Don’t talk like that, baby. Love has no rules. True love isn’t a crime.” “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I’m the one who fell for you first. It has nothing to do with you.” “But Chloe is my best friend…” “Forget about her,” Ethan interrupted gently, shushing her. “Hey, if you’re still feeling down, I won’t go back to my room tonight. I’ll stay here and hold you.” Melanie hesitated for a second. “But is that really okay? What if Chloe finds out? She’ll be so hurt. I don’t want to make her sad.” “Who cares?” Ethan chuckled, his tone completely nonchalant. “As far as the world is concerned, I’m your boyfriend. Sleeping in my girlfriend’s bed is completely natural. Don’t worry about Chloe. I have her handled.” Next came the sound of rustling sheets, followed by soft, breathless gasps and the unmistakable sound of wet, passionate kisses. I stood in the dark hallway, my hand gripping my glass tighter and tighter. The ice-cold glass sent a shiver straight to my heart. I was trembling all over. Slowly, silently, I walked back to the guest room. The water in my glass stayed cold all night. Just like me.

At breakfast the next morning, Ethan sat right next to Melanie, carefully peeling a boiled egg for her. Back then, he always complained that peeling eggs was too tedious. I was always the one who peeled them and put them on his plate. As it turned out, it wasn’t that he found it tedious. It was just that I wasn’t the right girl. “Here, open up,” he murmured, bringing the egg to Melanie’s lips. She happily took a bite. When a few crumbs got on her chin, he reached out and gently wiped them away with his thumb. Only after doing all this did he finally look up at me. His tone was as flat as if he were speaking to a random roommate. “Melanie wants some fresh orange juice. Go make some. It’s dangerous for her to use the juicer since she can’t see.” My grip on my fork tightened. I didn’t say a word. I got up and went into the kitchen. When I brought the juice back out, Melanie was fumbling around the table, trying to find her glass. Just as I placed the orange juice right next to her hand, her wrist suddenly jerked. The glass tipped over. The cold, sticky orange juice splashed everywhere, mostly landing right on my chest. The freezing liquid soaked through my shirt, making me shiver from the sudden chill. “Oh my gosh! I’m so, so sorry!” Melanie gasped, jumping up and waving her hands around frantically, almost knocking over the hot soup. “I can’t see… I couldn’t find the glass…” “Chloe, are you okay? It’s all my fault. I’m so clumsy.” Ethan immediately stood up, catching Melanie by the waist to make sure she didn’t trip. Once he was sure she was fine, he glared at me, his forehead creasing in anger. “What is wrong with you? Can’t you even set a glass down properly? You know Melanie is blind. Why didn’t you just hand it directly to her?” “She’s the one who knocked it over,” I said quietly, a dull ache blooming in my chest. Ethan let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Are you serious? If you had actually handed it to her, she wouldn’t have had to grope around and knock it over! Just admit you messed up. Why do you have to be so stubborn?” “Forget it. Just go change. Stop standing there throwing a tantrum and ruining Melanie’s day.” Melanie pulled lightly on his sleeve, letting out a soft sob. “Tyler, please don’t yell at Chloe. It’s my fault. I wish I hadn’t gone blind. I’m just a burden to everyone…” Ethan’s face softened instantly. He patted her back gently. “It’s not your fault, baby. She’s just being immature. Don’t take it to heart.” I stood there, watching them play the protective boyfriend and the helpless victim. I almost wanted to laugh out loud. I didn’t argue. I turned on my heel and went to change my clothes. When I came back out, I walked straight up to Ethan. “I need to talk to you. We need to discuss things.” Ethan blinked, taken aback. Before he could say anything, Melanie suddenly gasped, clutching her chest. “Tyler… I can’t breathe… My head is spinning so fast.” In an instant, Ethan completely forgot I was even there. He swept her up in his arms and strode toward her bedroom, not giving me a single glance as he brushed past. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well? I’m taking you to bed.” “Did you forget your meds? You’re always so stubborn. How am I supposed to leave you like this?” My hand, which I had reached out to grab him, froze in mid-air. Slowly, I pulled it back. Over the next few days, this exact drama played out every single day. Every time I tried to get Ethan alone to end things, Melanie would conveniently have some sort of emergency. After trying and failing a dozen times, I finally gave up. The adult world isn’t black and white. And not every question needs a dramatic confrontation to get an answer.

That night, Ethan went out to pick up some late-night cravings for Melanie. I was sitting on the couch sipping water when a loud crash of shattering glass echoed from the bathroom. Melanie’s terrified voice followed. “Chloe? Are you out there? I wanted to wash my glass, but I dropped it…” “I can’t see, and I’m scared to step. Can you come help me, please?” I paused, setting my water down. I walked over and pushed open the bathroom door. Shattered glass was scattered all over the tiled floor. Melanie was standing barefoot right in the middle of the mess, swaying slightly as if she were about to lose her balance. I sighed and reached out to hold her arm. “Careful. Don’t move.” The moment my hand touched her skin, she suddenly grabbed my wrist with terrifying force and slammed it downward. Right below my hand was a large, razor-sharp shard of glass. “Ah!—” She let out a piercing shriek of pain, losing her balance and falling backward onto the floor. Blood immediately began to pool around her wrist. Almost instantly, the bathroom door was kicked open. Ethan stood there, holding a bag of takeout. When he saw the blood, his eyes went wide, and he dropped the bag, rushing forward. “Melanie!” He scooped her up from the floor. When he looked up at me, the rage in his eyes was enough to burn me alive. “Chloe! Are you out of your freaking mind?!” Melanie clung to him, shaking with pain, but her voice was still dripping with fake sweetness. “Tyler, don’t blame Chloe…” “It was my fault. I broke the glass, and when I called Chloe for help, I just couldn’t find my footing. It has nothing to do with her…” “Look at your wrist! And you’re still defending her?” Ethan’s heart was clearly breaking for her. His glare grew even colder. “If she actually came to help you, how did you get cut this badly?” “Chloe, did you think you could just abuse her because she can’t see?!” “I didn’t push her,” I said, looking at him. My voice was so calm it surprised even me. “She grabbed my hand and slammed it onto the glass.” Ethan laughed, a mocking, disgusted sound. “Do you really think I’m that stupid? She’s blind! How could she perfectly target your hand and slam it onto the glass?” “You’re just jealous of her. You’ve been looking for a way to hurt her! I never realized you were this sick and malicious!” The moment those words left his mouth, a flicker of guilt flashed in his eyes. But before he could soften, Melanie began to sob hysterically. “It’s all my fault… I should have just died in that crash. Then I wouldn’t have made Chloe so mad…” “Tyler, let me go. I’ll go back to my parents’ house. I don’t want to be in your way anymore…” Ethan held her tighter. Any lingering guilt he had vanished instantly. “Don’t say that! You’re not going anywhere.” He looked up at me, his voice absolute. “Chloe, get out.” “Pack your bags right now and get the hell out of my house. I won’t have a monster like you under my roof.” I looked at him for a long, silent moment. I remembered him in high school, blushing as he slipped a love letter into my locker. I remembered him at college graduation, promising to build a home for us. I remembered him six months ago, holding my hand and asking me to wait for him. Five years of memories flashed before my eyes, only to dissolve into the pure disgust on his face right now. Suddenly, I smiled. “Okay.” No shouting. No crying. No begging. I turned around and walked to the guest room. Ethan clearly hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. He froze, opening his mouth to say something, but Melanie let out another weak cry in his arms. “Tyler… it hurts so bad…” He immediately snapped his gaze back to her, carrying her off to her bedroom.

As I rolled my suitcase out the front door, the master bedroom door remained tightly shut. Through the wood, I could hear Ethan’s soft, soothing voice, and Melanie’s sweet, whiny giggles. Six months of silent suffering and humiliation finally evaporated into nothing. I closed the door behind me, pulled out my phone, and sent a message to HR. “The transfer to the London headquarters—I accept. I’ll start the paperwork tomorrow.” My company had offered me this transfer three times before. The first time, I turned it down to support Ethan’s start-up. The second time, I turned it down to plan our wedding. This time, I was going to live for myself. I stayed in a hotel for two nights while completing all the relocation paperwork. For forty-eight hours, Ethan didn’t call me once. He probably thought I was just throwing a tantrum and would come crawling back once I calmed down. After all, during every fight we’d had over the last five years, I was always the one to apologize first. The day before my flight, I went back to the apartment complex to pick up some books I had left at the lobby mailroom. As I reached the entrance, I ran straight into Ethan. He was holding a box of pastries from my favorite bakery. When he saw me, he froze, looking a bit awkward. “Where have you been? You haven’t been home in days.” “Out,” I replied coldly, trying to push past him. “Look… about what happened,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he held out the box. “I was harsh. This is for you, to make it up to you. Don’t hold a grudge against Melanie. She’s sick. Once she’s fully recovered, we’ll start planning the wedding again…” Mid-sentence, his phone started ringing. The moment he picked up, his voice turned incredibly soft. “What’s wrong, Melanie? Okay, don’t cry. I’m coming right up.” He hung up and gave me a rushed look. “Melanie is scared to be alone. I have to run up. Take the cupcakes. We’ll talk when I’m done.” With that, he turned and ran toward the elevator, his steps hurried. I watched his retreating back, walked over to the nearest trash can, and dropped the box of cupcakes right into it. The next day, I boarded my flight. Watching the city shrink beneath the clouds, I whispered, “Goodbye, the last five years of my life.” “And goodbye to the Ethan I used to love.” Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Ethan spent the entire day watching movies with Melanie. But when the night grew quiet, he couldn’t stop thinking about Chloe. A strange, suffocating feeling tightened in his chest. He admitted he had been too harsh that night. She was a girl, staying out on her own for days. He wondered where she was. He pulled out his phone and dialed Chloe’s number, wanting to ask her when she was coming home. “The number you have dialed is currently switched off…” He frowned, assuming she was still just playing hard to get. The next morning, he got up early. He bought her favorite breakfast sandwich and drove over to the jewelry store to pick up the custom diamond engagement ring he had ordered months ago. He drove straight to my office, intending to surprise me. The receptionist smiled as he walked up. “Hi there, how can I help you?” “I’m looking for Chloe. She works in the design department.” The receptionist blinked, checking her database. “I’m sorry, sir. Chloe is no longer with the company.” “She accepted a long-term transfer to our London office. Her flight was yesterday afternoon.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455535”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On our wedding night, Carter took me to the peak of pleasure three times. As I lay completely exhausted on the bed after the final round, my best friend, Chloe, crawled out from underneath the bed frame. “Wow, Lily. I never knew you could be so wild in bed!” She smirked, mimicking Carter’s pelvic thrusts from earlier, and winked at him. “You bastard! I always thought you were bragging when you told the guys you could go seven times a night. I guess you actually deliver under pressure!” “But seriously, take it easy on her. If you break Lily, who’s going to carry your babies?” Carter raised an eyebrow, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Weren’t those the positions you taught me? If I really break her, you’ll have to give me a baby to make up for it.” Watching the two of them flirt and laugh, my blood ran cold. Seeing my pale face, Carter grabbed his bathrobe and draped it over my bare shoulders. His voice was still as gentle as ever. “Are you cold, babe? Put this on. Don’t catch a cold.” I looked at his face, and for the first time, he felt like a complete stranger. Chloe casually grabbed a can of Monster from the nightstand and tossed it to Carter. “Still got time to show off your love? Drink up and get your energy back, bro!” Carter caught it with one hand, popped the tab, and took a long swig. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, his sharp jawline illuminated by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. I sat there, my arms exposed to the cold air, goosebumps rising all over my skin. Lifting my head, my voice trembled with a raspy chill. “Chloe, how did you even get in here?” Chloe turned around, blinking innocently. “Oh, come on, Lily. I just can’t stay still. It’s your wedding night! I just wanted to bring some fun to the after-party.” Carter reached over and gently stroked my hair, his voice dripping with condescending comfort. “You know how Chloe is. She just wanted to join the fun. I didn’t think you’d mind.” I stared at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. In the next second, I slapped him across the face as hard as I could. “Carter! You are a sick bastard!” His face snapped to the side from the force of the blow. Chloe immediately rushed forward, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “Hey, don’t be like that! I was just worried he’d be too rough on you in bed and hurt you. That’s why I brought everyone to watch…” She froze mid-sentence, realizing she had let something slip. My heart skipped a beat. “Everyone?” Chloe let go of me, hopped off the bed, and bent down. She picked something out of the crevice of the nightstand. It was a tiny, black disc. A camera lens, blinking with a faint blue light. Then, she found another one under the base of the bedside lamp. Another inside the air conditioning vent. And another in the curtain track… She peeled them out one by one, piling a heap of tiny pinhole cameras on the nightstand. Our entire wedding night had been broadcasted live to a group of spectators. A wave of sheer absurdity washed over me. My mind went blank. Before I could even process the horror, Chloe clapped her hands and yelled toward the door. “Alright, guys! Come on in! The lovebirds are done! Time to announce who won the bet!” The door swung open. A dozen people swarmed into our bridal suite—all of them our mutual friends. They were laughing, chatting, and one of them was even holding a digital stopwatch. “Wait, what was the bet again? How long it would take Lily to scream?” Dylan raised his phone. “The official time is thirteen minutes and forty-seven seconds. Damn, Carter won!” The room erupted into laughter. Someone clapped Carter on the shoulder. “You’re a legend, man! How did you guess so accurately?” “I know my wife best, obviously,” Carter said, chin lifted proudly. “Since I won, dinner is on me. Let’s go, everyone.” He pulled off the sheets, got out of bed, and casually put on his designer shirt. Chloe naturally linked her arm through his, and they walked out side-by-side. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear, making him chuckle. Only then did he seem to remember I existed. He turned back with a nonchalant look. “Get dressed and come out, Lily. We’ll wait for you.” The crowd filtered out of the room. I slowly wiped my face. My fingertips were soaked with tears. Reaching under my pillow, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number. “Draft a divorce agreement. Make it fast.”

After putting on my clothes, I stepped out of bed, my knees buckling slightly. Suddenly, the door was pushed open from the outside. Carter walked in, naturally grabbing my wrist. “Everyone is waiting, Lily. Let’s go. We need to eat.” I tried to shake him off, but his grip was iron-clad. He dragged me toward the door. At the end of the hallway, Chloe poked her head out and waved. “Lily, hurry up! The reservation Carter got is impossible to book. If you drag your feet, the food’s going to get cold!” Downstairs, Carter’s black sedan was waiting. Chloe immediately opened the front passenger door and slid in. She turned around and flashed a bright smile. “Lily, I’m taking the front seat, okay? You know how easily I get carsick in the back. You don’t mind, right?” I didn’t answer. I just stared at Carter. Carter opened the back door for me, casually ruffling my hair. “Be reasonable, Lily. Chloe is basically one of the guys. She has no filter, so don’t take it personally.” Before I could even argue, a few friends behind me pushed me into the back seat. The door slammed shut, blocking out the cold night air. Chloe leaned toward Carter’s side, her fingers playing with a small object hanging from the rearview mirror. It was a thin, black lace strap. An undergarment strap with tiny clasps. Chloe suddenly slapped Carter’s arm. “Ugh, you are so careless! How many times have I told you to take my bra strap down? Why is it still hanging here?” She turned back to look at me in the back seat, her expression a mix of mock apology and mischief. “Lily is so sensitive. She’s going to throw another tantrum if she sees this. Then you’ll have to spend all night coaxing her again, and I don’t have the energy to give you advice this time.” The car fell dead silent. The two friends sitting next to me exchanged awkward glances but said nothing. I stared at the black lace. The edges were frayed, showing it had been hanging there for a very long time. I slowly turned my gaze to Carter, my heart freezing inch by inch. “Carter, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” He glanced at the mirror. “I lost a game of Truth or Dare. Chloe made me hang it there, and I forgot about it. Don’t overthink it, Lily. We’re married now. Is this really worth getting jealous over?” From the front seat, Chloe leaned over the headrest, smiling. “Oh, that night was wild! You know how crazy Carter gets when he’s drunk. He’ll take any dare. I told him to wear it on his wrist, but he went ahead and hung it in the car! Haha!” One of the guys in the back tried to smooth things over. “Come on, Lily, don’t make a big deal out of it. You know Chloe. Every time you and Carter had a fight, wasn’t she the one who stayed up all night helping him figure out how to make it up to you? If she wanted him, she wouldn’t have been your wingwoman all these years.” Another added, “Yeah, she’s the reason you two even made it to the altar. You should be grateful to have a friend like her, not angry.” The tension in the car dissipated, and everyone laughed. I leaned back against the seat, remaining silent. So, they all knew. They all knew about the blurry lines between Carter and Chloe, yet they all chose to protect the lie. At the restaurant, we sat around a large table. Carter took the seat of honor, pulling me down next to him. When the waiter served the food, Carter immediately pushed the most expensive dishes in front of Chloe. The table was lively. People were drinking, joking, and clinking their glasses. Sitting next to Carter, I looked at him. At this moment, everything felt entirely meaningless. Setting my glass down, I spoke in a calm, clear voice. “Carter.” He turned his head to look at me. “Let’s get a divorce.”

The table went instantly silent. Carter slowly lowered his fork, his eyes narrowing. “Lily, do you even hear yourself? Your mother is burning through ten thousand dollars a day in the ICU. You want a divorce over a stupid joke? Have you lost your mind?” My body went rigid. He was right. My mother’s condition was deteriorating day by day. We desperately needed the money. But looking at the silver fork in Chloe’s hand, I felt a hollow void in my chest. Closing my eyes, I refused to back down. “That’s none of your business. I’ll handle it myself. The divorce papers will be delivered tomorrow. Just sign them.” With that, I stood up and walked out. I could hear Chloe calling my name behind me, but I didn’t look back. I didn’t go home. Instead, I grabbed my essentials and checked into a cheap motel nearby. I sat on the edge of the bed all night, unable to close my eyes. The next morning, I went straight to the hospital. But the moment I pushed the door to my mother’s private room open, I saw an unwanted guest. Chloe was sitting by the bedside, her hands gripping my mother’s frail shoulders, looking frantic. On the monitor, my mother’s vitals were spiking wildly, her lips turning a terrifying shade of blue. Panic seized me. I rushed forward and violently shoved Chloe away. “What the hell are you doing?!” Chloe rubbed her bruised arm, looking incredibly aggrieved. “I was just trying to get your mom to talk some sense into you! You’re divorcing Carter over a stupid prank—it’s so petty! I know you’re young and prude, but your mom used to be in the escort business. She’s seen it all. I just showed her a few seconds of the video to get her opinion, and she suddenly…” My eyes widened in sheer horror. How dare she?! She knew my mother was forced into sex work by my abusive father, Richard, which led to her severe illness. Chloe knew this was my mother’s deepest trauma, and she chose to weaponize it! Rage consumed me. I lunged at Chloe, clawing at her face. She shrieked, trying to back away, but I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her down. “You did this to her!” I screamed, my voice cracking as I slammed my fist into her face. “I’ll kill you! You bitch!” Chloe broke free and ran out of the room, crashing straight into Carter, who had just arrived. Carter immediately caught her in his arms. The two friends who followed him rushed in and pinned me against the wall. I struggled desperately, forced to watch through the window as the nurses wheeled my unconscious mother into the emergency operating room. Carter knelt in front of me, reaching out to wipe my tears, but I flinched away. His voice softened. “Lily, I saw the security footage. Chloe shouldn’t have said those things, but she’s naive. She doesn’t think before she speaks. Please don’t hold it against her. I’ll apologize on her behalf, okay?” I stared into his eyes, my voice barely a whisper. “Apologize on her behalf? Who the hell do you think you are to her?” Suddenly, Chloe broke free from his back. She fell to her knees in front of me, tears streaming down her face. She grabbed my hand and forced me to slap her. “Lily, I’m so sorry! I’m an idiot! I shouldn’t have brought up the fact that your mother was a hooker in front of her! I really mess up! Please, hit me! Kill me if you want!” Her dramatic wailing echoed through the sterile hospital corridor. I slowly pulled my hand back, my voice cold as ice. “You want my forgiveness? Go die.”

Chloe froze for a few seconds, then stood up and ran away crying. Carter shot me a disappointed look before running after her. Our friends followed them. I tried to stand up, but a sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and the world went completely black. When I opened my eyes again, the sharp smell of disinfectant filled my nose. A nurse was adjusting my IV drip, her expression indifferent. “You’re awake, ma’am. You’re about five weeks pregnant. But there was some bleeding. We need to monitor you to see if the baby can be saved.” Lying on the narrow hospital bed, my mind went blank. This child… had come at the worst possible time. By the time I left the hospital, night had fallen. I returned to my motel room and locked the door. On the coffee table lay a manila envelope. I opened it and pulled out the document. The words DIVORCE AGREEMENT stared back at me. Just as I picked up a pen to sign, the door was violently kicked open. Carter stormed in, the door slamming against the wall with a deafening crash. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me off the couch. The pen slipped from my fingers, rolling under the table. “Are you insane?” I gasped. He cut me off, his eyes bloodshot. “Chloe slit her wrists because of you! Are you happy now? What you said to her yesterday drove her over the edge! She lost too much blood, and the hospital’s blood bank is running low.” “You’re coming with me to donate blood for her right now!” I looked at him, utterly dumbfounded. “I’m not going.” Carter stopped, turning his cold, dead eyes to meet mine. He pulled out his phone and shoved the screen in front of my face. It was a live FaceTime feed of my mother’s ICU room. His voice was deadpan. “You don’t have to donate. But however much blood Chloe loses tonight, your mother will bleed the exact same amount.” I stared at him, my throat feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton. I let him drag me out of the room. At the hospital, I was taken to a room right next to Chloe’s. The nurse instructed me to sit in the extraction chair. The cold alcohol swab wiped against the crook of my elbow, making me shiver. As the needle pierced my vein, I turned my head to look through the glass window separating our rooms. Chloe suddenly opened her eyes. Looking through the glass, she smirked at me. One vial. Two vials. Three vials. My vision began to blur, and a loud ringing filled my ears. I tried to pull away, but Carter stood over me, his hands locking my shoulders down. At that moment, a sharp, twisting pain bloomed in my lower abdomen, as if something was tearing away inside me. Across the glass, Chloe sat up. She giggled as she ripped the IV needle from the back of her hand, got out of bed, and walked over to the window. On the windowsill sat a potted ivy plant. She took the bag of my blood from the nurse, popped the cap, and poured the deep red liquid directly into the soil. The thick, dark blood seeped into the dirt, splashing onto the green leaves. She looked back at me, her lips moving. Through the glass, I couldn’t hear her, but I could read her lips. “Thanks for the plant food.” I wanted to scream, to stand up, but my body refused to cooperate. The pain in my abdomen intensified into a sharp, agonizing cramp. My peripheral vision began to shrink into darkness. Right before I completely lost consciousness, I heard the nurse’s panicked voice: “Oh my God, she’s bleeding through her pants!” In the next second, Carter’s face finally lost its cold composure…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455534”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

After the hospital chief’s daughter suffered a sudden heart attack and fell into a coma, my wife hid the surgery time from me. She wanted her medical school junior, Julian, to take my place as the lead surgeon so he could get promoted to an Attending. Because of her lie, I missed the critical operation. By the time I rushed to the hospital, the Chief was screaming at me, accusing me of having zero professional ethics. That was when I realized my wife had set me up. She had forced me out of my own operating room just to pave the way for Julian. “If you want to help him so badly, he can have it. I’m done.” Heartbroken and utterly disgusted, I walked away from the surgery. My wife, Chloe, practically glowed with triumph as she ran to take credit in front of Julian. After all, if this bypass surgery succeeded, Julian would be promoted straight to Attending, securing both fame and fortune. What they didn’t know was that this specific coronary artery bypass graft was extremely high-risk. In the entire country, I was the only surgeon capable of pulling it off. Even if Julian stood at that operating table, he would only fail. He might even destroy his entire medical career before it even started. And my dear wife was about to pay a devastating price for her blind favoritism.

Chief Richard Evans’s daughter, Seraphina, suffered from congenital heart disease. Without immediate surgical intervention, she wouldn’t survive. But the night before the scheduled surgery, my wife, Chloe, told me the procedure had to be postponed. She claimed Seraphina’s pre-op lab results didn’t meet the safety standards. Two weeks ago, Seraphina had been rushed to the ER in a deep coma. I had worked for twenty-four hours straight without sleep to save her life. However, her condition was deteriorating rapidly, and she desperately needed a second, corrective surgery. To prepare for this, I had spent the last fortnight burying myself in medical journals, constantly refining the surgical plan. But the night before, Chloe informed me that Seraphina’s blood work was unstable and that we needed to stick to conservative treatment for a few more days. That night, I didn’t sleep a wink. I stayed up trying to figure out another way to manage Seraphina’s symptoms. But the next morning, when I finally rushed to the hospital with a revised plan, I was told that Julian had already taken my place in the operating room. Chief Evans slammed his office door and threw a furious punch right at my jaw. “Ethan Vance! I trusted you because of your reputation, and because you saved my daughter’s life once before. I handed her over to you! And you didn’t even show up for the surgery? Do you have any idea that because of your negligence, my daughter almost died on that table?!” I froze, my mind going completely blank. Before I could even process what was happening, the office door burst open. Chloe marched in, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Ethan! Did you stay up playing video games all night again?!” “The surgery was scheduled hours ago! We called you more than a dozen times, and you didn’t answer a single one! Is a patient’s life worth less than your stupid games?!” Looking at the sheer rage in Chloe’s eyes, I realized she wasn’t acting. She genuinely hated me right now, playing the righteous hero defending the Chief’s daughter. “Chloe, what are you talking about?” It was she who had told me just two days ago that Seraphina’s labs were bad and the surgery was postponed. I had spent days in my study researching for nothing. And now, in her mouth, I was just a lazy husband who stayed up playing video games? “What? You think just because I’m your wife, I’ll cover up for an irresponsible doctor like you?” “I don’t care if you play games on your days off, I let it slide because I thought you were just stressed. But today of all days! You actually showed up late because of it? Ethan, you disgust me.” “If Julian hadn’t stepped up to take over the surgery and save Seraphina, this entire hospital would be paying for your stupidity right now! Do you even care?!” Hearing Chloe lay it out like that, I would have to be brain-dead not to get it. She had gone through all this trouble, spinning a web of lies, just for Julian—her precious junior from medical school. Chief Evans only had one daughter. Whoever saved her would have a golden ticket to the top of the department, maybe even become the next Chief of Surgery. Anyone would drool over such an opportunity. But in the end, Chief Evans had chosen me because I was the one who performed the first successful surgery. It should have been a good thing, and I was completely confident. But Chloe had been miserable about it. She had even sneered at me when we were alone. “Ethan, you look so honest on the outside, but you sure know how to kiss the Chief’s ass,” she had said. “You’re just using your seniority to block talented younger doctors who don’t have your connections.” At the time, I was too focused on the upcoming surgery to care about her sarcasm. Now, I realized how incredibly stupid I had been. She had intentionally lied about the lab reports, making sure I would miss the surgery, just so Julian could steal the spotlight. Just as I was about to defend myself, the office door opened again. This time, it was Julian. Seraphina’s condition was highly complex. It couldn’t be cured, only managed. Since I had performed her first surgery two weeks ago, her body was still incredibly weak. The second surgery was supposed to be a delicate, highly precise adjustment to stabilize her heart, followed by careful monitoring to see if a third surgery would be necessary. Seeing the smug grin on Julian’s face as he walked in, you’d think he had cured heart disease forever. Chloe, who had deliberately dressed in a sleek, form-fitting designer dress today, stood right next to him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were the married couple here. The moment Julian walked in, he bowed his head with fake humility. “Dr. Vance, I’m so sorry. Why are you only getting here now?” I stared at him, my eyes ice-cold. No one knew better than him why I was late. Seeing that I remained silent, Julian continued, “I don’t know what kept you, but Seraphina’s condition became critical. We couldn’t reach you. As your resident, and the only other doctor who assisted in her first surgery, I felt I was the only one who understood her case.” “So, I took the liberty of leading the procedure. Dr. Vance, please don’t be angry with me.” His voice grew softer and softer. Even though I hadn’t uttered a single word since he entered, he was putting on such a pitiful show, making it look like I was some big, bad bully. “Julian, you’ve been his assistant for three years. You’re more than ready to lead your own surgeries,” Chloe cut in, her voice dripping with warmth. “This was entirely Ethan’s fault. You did the right thing by stepping up for the patient.” “You don’t need to care about Ethan’s feelings. He doesn’t own this hospital. A doctor who shows up late and lacks basic ethics has no right to blame you.” Hearing my wife’s words, a sharp, stabbing pain went through my chest. When Julian first joined the hospital three years ago, he made so many mistakes that no attending surgeon wanted to touch him. It was Chloe who had begged me, crying, to take him under my wing. And I had mentored him for three long years.

During those three years, he went from a mere observer to my first assistant. He messed up countless times. If it weren’t for my quick reflexes and instant corrections on the table, several patients would have lost their lives under his scalpel. In fact, after Julian’s first major blunder, I had told Chloe that he wasn’t cut out for the operating room. I suggested he transfer to rehabilitation or outpatient care. But she refused to listen. She made excuses for him over and over, even picking massive fights with me because of it. “Ethan, Julian is my college junior! He’s only in his twenties. Can’t you have some patience and teach him?” “So what if he made one mistake? Nobody is born a master surgeon!” Back then, I actually believed her. I thought maybe I was being too hard on him, that maybe with time, he would improve. Now, I finally saw the truth. Chloe didn’t just see Julian as a college junior. Staring at the pathetic, scheming duo put on their little show, my fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white. But then, thinking about what was to come, a sudden sense of relief washed over me. “Since you think you’re ready to lead, then this patient is officially yours,” I said calmly. Julian froze, staring at me in utter shock. He clearly hadn’t expected me to give up so easily. He quickly shrunk back behind Chloe, feigning anxiety. “Dr. Vance, I didn’t mean it like that. I know you think I’m not ready to lead yet. I… how could I steal your patient?” Chloe immediately snapped, “How is this stealing, Julian? If it weren’t for you, Seraphina would be in a body bag by now. I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked these past few years. You just lacked an opportunity.” “As long as you handle Seraphina’s post-op care perfectly, you’ll easily become the youngest Attending in this hospital. I believe in you. Don’t sell yourself short.” My own wife was dragging my name through the mud while telling another man not to sell himself short right in front of me. I let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Fine. Since everyone has so much faith in you, Julian, Seraphina is your responsibility from now on.” Julian wanted to reject it again to keep up his humble act, but after feeling Chloe squeeze his hand, he swallowed his words. I turned to Chief Evans and tendered my temporary leave. As I walked out, a loud, triumphant laugh echoed behind me. “Was it exhausting leading your first major surgery? Don’t worry, I’m going to gather everyone from the department tonight to throw you a massive celebration!” In the five years I had been married to Chloe, I had performed countless successful surgeries, yet she had never once thrown me a celebration dinner. And she was celebrating Julian now? The surgery wasn’t even technically a success yet. Julian had only handled the secondary stage—essentially just stitching up and stabilizing the initial repairs. I had researched Seraphina’s case for weeks. It looked like a standard coronary bypass on paper, but the anatomical details were incredibly intricate. The success of the surgery lay entirely in the microscopic details. If there was even a tiny issue with the blood flow, she wouldn’t just fail to wake up; she would suffer a cascade of severe complications and subsequent relapses. A perfect bypass could last for over a decade, allowing the patient to live a normal life. But a botched one would ensure they never got off the table. And with Seraphina’s current state, she couldn’t be transferred abroad. I could confidently say that in this entire country, no one but me could successfully manage her case. Julian thought he had succeeded. But Seraphina hadn’t even opened her eyes yet. If she didn’t wake up within seventy-two hours, it meant he had botched the vital micro-sutures during the procedure. Chloe didn’t come home until very late. Seeing that I was still awake, she cast a contemptuous look at my laptop screen. “Are you still looking at Seraphina’s charts?” “This case belongs entirely to Julian now. Why are you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?” “With his skills, he’ll handle it perfectly. Ethan, let me warn you: you were the one who walked away. No one forced you. If you try to back out now and steal credit, don’t blame me for making your life hell!” No matter the time or place, Chloe’s loyalty always lay with Julian. “Don’t worry,” I said, not even looking up. “I’m just reading. I won’t get in the way of Julian’s big promotion.” With that, I closed my laptop, grabbed my things, and moved to the guest bedroom. The next morning, the moment I arrived at the hospital, Julian ran into my office. He demanded that I hand over all my recent research and notes on Seraphina’s condition. “As my assistant, didn’t you get a copy of her medical file?” I asked, looking at him coldly. Typically, the lead surgeon and the assistant need to coordinate closely, discussing the patient-specific surgical plan thoroughly before scrubbing in. But Julian had never bothered to discuss anything with me. He always did whatever he wanted, never showing me an ounce of professional respect. “Well, yes,” Julian stammered. “But I was afraid my notes weren’t as comprehensive as yours, Dr. Vance.” “You’re a lead surgeon now, Julian. You don’t need to call me your mentor anymore. I can’t afford that title.” Julian’s face flushed with anger. Before he could speak, the office door was kicked open violently. Chloe stormed in, her eyes blazing with fury. “Ethan, cut the crap! You’re Julian’s mentor. Isn’t it your job to help him?” “Stop being so incredibly petty. Where are your professional ethics?!” My eyes turned cold. “I’m not like some people,” I said quietly. “Whether I have professional ethics isn’t for you to decide with a few cheap words.”

Chloe had left the door wide open. The hallway was bustling with doctors, nurses, and patients, and several of them stopped in their tracks to watch the drama unfold. “Ethan Vance! Julian has called you his mentor for three whole years!” “He called me his mentor, yes. And for three years, I have a clear conscience about everything I taught him. But why don’t you ask him—has he ever treated me like one for a single day?” Chloe rolled her eyes at me. “Julian has been nothing but respectful to you. He’s never done anything to hurt you. Stop trying to twist the truth.” “You’re just bitter because he took over Seraphina’s surgery. But that was your own damn fault! He only stepped up to clean up your mess!” “Not only are you not grateful, but you’re also actively sabotaging him. Do you think we actually care about your stupid, worthless notes?” “Someone as narrow-minded as you doesn’t even deserve to wear a white coat!” Chloe screamed at me, completely losing her composure just to defend Julian. I watched her quietly until she finished her tantrum. “Are you done? This is my office. If you’re done, please get out.” Chloe stared at me in absolute disbelief. In all our years of marriage, this was the first time I had ever kicked her out. “Fine! We’re leaving! But let me tell you, Ethan—once Julian cures Seraphina, you’ll be crawling back to beg us!” After she slammed the door, the office finally fell quiet. Ignoring the whispers from the staff outside, I leaned back in my chair, massaging my throbbing temples. I couldn’t understand how Chloe and I had ended up like this, spitting venom at each other. We had known each other since we were kids. We used to have so many sweet memories. Even my decision to go into medicine was because of her. When I was a kid, I was obese and constantly mocked by my classmates. They gave me horrible nicknames and would corner me in the alley behind the school to beat me up. Every single time, Chloe would be the one to stand up and protect me, chasing those bullies away. Afterward, she would take me back to her place and bandage my wounds. The butterfly bandages she applied were always so neat and pretty. I would refuse to take them off for days. From that moment on, I swore to myself that I would grow up to be someone strong and capable, just like her. Eventually, I did. I became an accomplished surgeon, just like her. But she… she had changed. I sat alone in my office for a long time, until my colleague and close friend, Marcus, dragged me out to get some dinner at the cafeteria. Only then did I realize it was already evening. Marcus told me he hadn’t dared to disturb me earlier, but seeing me shut inside all day, he was worried. He wanted to get me out of the office to clear my head. The moment we walked into the cafeteria, we saw a crowd of doctors and nurses crowding around Julian and Chloe. “Congratulations, Julian! I heard Seraphina’s surgery went perfectly. You’re going to be a superstar in the department soon!” Julian blushed, waving his hands modestly. “Fame and promotions don’t matter to me. All I care about is saving lives.” Hearing his hypocritical speech, I felt a sudden urge to laugh. Of course, Chloe had to chime in right behind him. “Our Julian has the skills, the guts, and most importantly, a compassionate heart. He’s not like “some” people who stay up playing video games and abandon their patients.” “Some people are so incredibly petty they even hide their research notes. They have absolutely zero respect for human life.” Marcus couldn’t take it anymore. He started to stand up to confront them, but I held him down by his shoulder. I shook my head at him and smiled. “I’ve seen plenty of rabid dogs barking in public.” “If I bark back, wouldn’t that make me just as low as them?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455533”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Frank Vance’s seafood warehouse almost went under during the off-season last year. Every restaurant on the wharf ditched him for other suppliers. I was the only one who stayed. I kept a locked-in order of three hundred thousand dollars a month, rain or shine. Back then, he held my hand, nearly in tears. “Clara, you saved my life. From now on, your restaurants get absolute priority. Always.” Now, the peak summer tourist season had arrived. I pre-ordered our stock a month in advance. He promised me up and down that we were good to go. But when I went to the warehouse to collect the shipment, three unfamiliar delivery trucks blocked the loading dock. Frank was signing a contract with a new client. I glanced over at the order sheet on his clipboard. It was the exact same batch of seafood I had locked in, but he was selling it to them for two dollars less per pound. He even threw in two hundred pounds of premium shrimp for free. I walked up to him. “Frank, where is my order?” He didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “Stock is tight today, Clara. New clients get priority. Your shipment will have to wait two days.” I frowned. “I locked in this inventory a month ago. And I’m paying a higher rate than them?” Frank crushed his cigarette in an ashtray. “The off-season has off-season prices. The peak season has peak season rules.” “You’re just a salaried employee, Clara. Saving a few grand for your company isn’t going to get you a bonus, is it?” “If you think it’s too expensive, buy from someone else. Don’t block my dock. I have business to run.” Several workers in the warehouse turned to stare at me. I didn’t say another word. I turned on my heel and walked back to my car. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I opened WhatsApp and sent a blast message to the group chat containing the managers of all eight of our restaurant locations: “Effective immediately, we are terminating our contract with Frank Vance. Reject all his deliveries. Treat any existing agreements as breached.”

“Clara, are you serious?” Leo, the manager of Store 4, was the first to explode in the WhatsApp group. Marcus from Store 2 chimed in next: “Switching suppliers during peak season? Do we have a backup source ready?” Abby from Store 7 sent a voice note. Just two words: “I’m in.” Within ten minutes, six of the eight managers had replied. Lucas from Store 1 kept quiet—he rarely spoke in the group anyway. Chloe from Store 5 was also silent. I didn’t wait. I called Chloe directly. “Did you see the message?” I asked. “I did,” Chloe replied, her voice slow and unbothered. “Clara, can I ask what happened? Why the sudden move?” I told her about the warehouse incident. The new client cutting the line, the lower price per pound, the free shrimp, and how Frank wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Chloe paused for a few seconds. “That’s it?” “What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?” “I mean, it’s peak season. Stock shortages are normal. Sure, his attitude was bad, but cutting our entire supply chain over a personal grudge? Isn’t that a little impulsive?” “So you think I should just take it.” “I think we need to look at the bigger picture. Who is going to supply us now? Every warehouse on the coast is running at maximum capacity. Who has spare inventory? If all eight of our restaurants run out of seafood tonight, who takes the fall?” “I do.” “Fine,” she sighed, a hint of disdain slipping through. “You’re the head of procurement. Your call.” I hung up, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. My phone rang. It was Frank. I let it ring three times before picking up. “Are you out of your mind?” his gravelly voice rasped through the speaker. “Marcus just told me you’re rejecting my deliveries!” “You told me to buy from someone else. So I am.” “That was just a figure of speech!” “And what about ‘you’re just an employee, saving money won’t get you a bonus’? Was that a figure of speech too?” He fell silent for a second. I heard the click of a lighter, followed by a long drag. He was trying to compose himself. “Fine. I shouldn’t have said that. But don’t use it as an excuse to throw a tantrum. Do you have any idea how much stock your eight locations burn through in a day? I’m the only supplier on this wharf who can guarantee that volume during peak season. Go ahead and ask around.” “I will.” “You won’t find anyone,” he chuckled. “And let me remind you, Clara. You’re just the buyer, not the owner. If the restaurants lose money because of a shortage, Richard is going to drag you over the coals. Do you really think the CEO is going to take your side?” “That’s between me and Richard.” “Alright, tough girl. Let me give you some free advice. If you crawl back to me before tonight and apologize, I’ll pretend this never happened. But if you wait until tomorrow, the price goes up.” “Don’t hold your breath. I’m not coming back.” “Suit yourself.” He slammed the phone down. Less than half an hour later, Lucas from Store 1 called me. “Did Frank call you?” Lucas asked, keeping his voice low. “Just hung up.” “He called me too,” Lucas warned. “He told me something you should know.” “What did he say?” “He said he has a personal relationship with Richard. He’s going to bypass you and talk to the CEO directly. He told us to ignore your orders.” I tapped my thumb against the steering wheel. “Anything else?” “He said he already ‘handled’ Chloe. He didn’t give details, but he sounded extremely smug about it.” Handled her. What did that mean? At 8:00 PM, a photo popped up in our WhatsApp group chat. Chloe had posted it. It was a delivery invoice from Frank’s warehouse, dated today. The item, the weight, and the signature at the bottom—Store 5, Chloe Bennett. Underneath the photo, she texted: “Sorry, Clara. This order was placed days ago and couldn’t be canceled. We can’t let our customers starve during peak season. I’m just doing what’s best for the business.” The group chat went dead silent. Leo quickly deleted a message he was halfway through typing. Marcus stopped posting. I zoomed in on the invoice, looking closely at the price column. The shrimp. The unit price Frank gave Chloe was four dollars cheaper than what he had quoted me. It wasn’t just two dollars cheaper—it was four. It was even cheaper than what he charged the new client. Frank wasn’t just doing business anymore. He was actively trying to destroy my authority from the inside. My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: “Be smart and know your place. — Frank”

“Come to the corporate office.” Richard’s call came early the next morning. His tone wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t angry either. Still, Richard rarely called people to headquarters. He only showed his face at the restaurants once every six months; the rest of his time was spent at high-end country clubs. For him to summon me personally, someone must have paved the way. In his office, Richard sat in his expensive leather chair, sipping a glass of red wine. “Have a seat,” he said. I sat down. “Tell me what’s going on with Frank.” “He breached our agreement. I’m handling it according to the contract.” “Which part did he breach?” “He withheld our pre-ordered stock to sell it to a new client at a discount, and then told me our delivery would be delayed by two days.” Richard took a sip of his wine. “That’s not the version of the story he told me.” I kept quiet, waiting. “He claims you demanded a two-dollar-per-pound kickback. He said when he refused, you threw a tantrum and cut his contract.” I set my coffee cup down on the glass desk. It made a sharp, clean sound. “And how do you want me to answer that, Richard?” “Clara, you’ve been with this company for four years. I know you’re efficient. But Frank has been our supplier for three. You told me yourself last year that our three-hundred-thousand-dollar monthly orders kept his business alive during the winter. Now that it’s summer, you’re just cutting him off?” “Last year, when we saved his business, he called me his savior. This year, when he pushed me to the back of the line, he called me a useless employee.” Richard’s eyelids fluttered slightly. “I get it. Business is business, but you can’t let emotions dictate your decisions. You rejected his stock. How are you going to feed eight restaurants tonight?” “I’m finding a new supplier.” “Have you found one?” “Not yet.” “You cut off our main supplier without a backup?” His voice dropped an octave, cold and demanding. “Do you have any idea how much revenue we make on seafood daily during peak season? Eight stores generate over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a day. If we go dark for even one day, who pays for that?” “Richard, the price Frank quoted us is two dollars higher than what he charged his new client. And the price he secretly gave Chloe is even lower. He’s charging three different prices for the exact same batch of fish. Do you honestly think we can keep doing business with someone like that?” Richard leaned back in his chair, putting his wine glass down. “I don’t know anything about three different prices. Show me the proof.” “I have the invoices and the contract clauses.” I handed him my phone. He scrolled through the screenshots, his face remaining entirely blank. “I see,” he said slowly. “But your priority is still to keep the kitchens running. Don’t let the restaurants go dark. As for Frank…” He paused. “Don’t burn the bridge just yet. He called me again. He’s willing to match the lower price for all eight locations, and he’ll throw in five hundred pounds of free shrimp every month.” Five hundred pounds of shrimp. When he was kicking me out of his warehouse, he couldn’t care less. Now that he was about to lose eight major accounts, he was suddenly throwing freebies at us. “Richard, he’s not lowering his price because he’s sorry. He’s doing it because he’s terrified.” “I don’t care if he’s terrified. I care about my bottom line,” Richard said, standing up. “I’ll give you three days. If you can find a supplier who can handle our volume in three days, I’ll support your decision to replace him. If you can’t… we go back to Frank.” Three days. Finding a major seafood supplier in the middle of peak season in three days was practically impossible. As Richard walked to the door, he stopped and looked back at me. “One more thing. Chloe told me your emotional decision-making is causing a lot of stress for the team. I’m only telling you this because I want to keep the peace. But you need to watch your step.”

“I’ve been in the seafood industry for twenty years, and I’ve never seen anything like this. I practically begged to supply them during the off-season, and now they flip on me faster than a light switch. A mere purchasing manager, acting like she owns the place just because she holds a few contracts.” Frank was airing his grievances in the local F&B WhatsApp group. There were over three hundred restaurant owners and suppliers in that chat. He didn’t name me directly, but every single word was aimed at me. Naturally, his friends in the industry immediately jumped in to support him. One supplier wrote: “Frank is a good guy. He’s been patient enough.” Another chimed in: “Some buyers get a little power and forget who they actually are. They’re just employees.” A third sent a thumbs-up emoji: “The client is always right, I guess. Can’t mess with them!” Not a single person spoke up for me. I watched the messages scroll up my screen, my fingers freezing over the glass. Frank wasn’t just venting. He was blacklisting me. Every potential supplier I could contact was in that group. By ruining my reputation first, he was making sure no one would dare take my call. That afternoon, I made three phone calls. The owner of Sunrise Seafood picked up first. “Hey, Arthur,” I said. “We need a stable supplier for the peak season. The volume is pretty high. Can you take us on?” “Ah, Clara, I heard about what happened,” he said, sounding incredibly hesitant. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but Frank and I have worked together for ten years. He already reached out to us. He asked us to stay out of his dispute.” “So you’re turning down business just because he asked?” “It’s a small industry, Clara. We all have to see each other at the docks every day. It’s not worth making enemies over one account. I hope you understand.” He hung up. The second call was to the manager of Crestview Seafood. “Look, Clara, I already know why you’re calling,” he cut me off before I could even finish my greeting. “We’re at maximum capacity. We can’t take on any more clients right now. Sorry.” He didn’t even bother with pleasantries. The third call was to the owner of Apex Seafood. He didn’t reject me immediately, but his terms were ridiculous. “Sure, I can take you,” he laughed. “But since it’s peak season and you need a rush order, the price will be three dollars above market rate. And I can only supply four of your locations. I don’t have enough stock for all eight.” “That price is even higher than Frank’s original quote,” I pointed out. “Then go back to Frank,” he sneered. “He wants you, but you won’t go. We have the stock, but you think we’re too expensive. That’s just how the game is played, sweetheart.” “The game.” I had heard that phrase three times today, and it always meant the same thing: “You have no options.” That night, Chloe posted another photo in the group chat. This time, it wasn’t an invoice. It was a picture of her restaurant’s display cases, packed to the brim with fresh, glittering seafood. “Our deliveries today were incredibly fresh. The customers are thrilled! Consistency is everything during peak season,” she wrote. She didn’t tag me, but the message was loud and clear. Leo replied with a simple “Got it,” while the rest of the managers stayed silent. Abby sent me a private Snapchat message: “Clara, don’t let her get to you. But you need to find some leverage, and fast. Otherwise, Richard is going to replace you.” “Leverage.” I sat in my apartment, staring at the list of suppliers on my desk. Three rejections. Zero options. My phone buzzed again. In the industry WhatsApp group, Frank had sent a voice note. His voice was boisterous, clearly meant to be heard by everyone on the docks: “Great news, everyone! We just locked in a deal with Harvey Thorne to supply all twelve of his new trendy bistros. We’re running at full capacity now, so our regular clients might have to wait in line. First come, first served. That’s just the rule!” A flood of congratulatory messages followed. Harvey Thorne was the flashy new client I had seen at the warehouse. Twelve bistros. Frank was letting everyone know that he didn’t need our business. He just wanted me to beg. Abby snapped me again: “Clara, do you have a backup plan or not?”

“Clara, Richard wanted me to let you know that we have a meeting at 3:00 PM today to discuss the supply chain. He expects you to bring your backup proposal.” The three-day deadline had arrived. Chloe was the one who called me. “Since when do you deliver messages for the CEO?” I asked. “Oh, I’m just trying to help,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sweet concern. “Do you actually have a proposal? Because if you don’t, Frank sent over a new contract with excellent terms. Richard thinks we should just sign it and move on.” “Who handed Richard that contract?” “I did. It’s nothing personal, Clara. We just need seafood.” At 3:00 PM, I walked into Richard’s office. Chloe was already there, sitting with a printed spreadsheet of Frank’s new rates. As a store manager, she had no business being in a procurement meeting, yet there she was. Richard looked at me. “Where is your proposal?” “I’m still negotiating,” I said. “It’s been three days and you have nothing?” “It’s peak season. No major supplier is willing to take on eight high-volume restaurants on short notice.” Richard glanced at Chloe. Chloe immediately spoke up, her tone perfectly measured. “Richard, if I may, I’ve been working with Frank on a new proposal. His terms are incredibly generous. He’s offering us market rate, extending our payment window to forty-five days, and giving us three hundred pounds of free shrimp every month. It’s a fantastic deal.” She slid the spreadsheet across the desk. “Frank is reliable, and he has the inventory. We shouldn’t let a personal grudge hurt our business. As managers, we have to look at the bigger picture.” I stared at the spreadsheet. Frank’s new prices were indeed lower. But as I looked closer, I noticed the details. The size of the shrimp had been downgraded from jumbo to medium. The quality grade of the sea bass had been lowered from Grade A to Grade B+. He was lowering the price, but quietly swapping out the quality. “Richard,” I said, pointing at the sheet. “This isn’t the same quality as our original contract. The shrimp are smaller, and the fish is lower grade. He’s cutting corners to make the price look good.” Chloe frowned. “Clara, are you sure you’re not misreading this? It clearly says premium—” “He can write whatever he wants on the invoice, but what actually arrives at the kitchen will be cheap stock. Frank has done this to other clients before.” Richard tapped his fingers on his desk. “Here’s the deal, Clara. You have until the end of the day to find a new supplier. If you can’t, we go back to Frank tomorrow.” He looked at me coldly. “And going forward, you will coordinate all purchasing decisions with Chloe.” “Coordinate.” A tiny, triumphant smile tugged at the corner of Chloe’s lips. She wasn’t just trying to undermine me. She wanted my job. Frank was squeezing me from the outside, and she was stabbing me from the inside. They were working together perfectly. When the meeting ended, I walked out of the corporate building and stood in the sweltering July heat of the parking lot. I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the very bottom of my contacts. There was a number I had saved two years ago but had never called. The contact name read: “Arthur Sterling.” Last winter, a deep-sea trawler captain had come ashore with a massive catch but couldn’t find a buyer. Several local warehouses turned him away. I had helped him connect with a few of my contacts and cleared his entire shipment. Later, I found out he wasn’t just some random boat captain. He was the CEO of Sterling Ocean Harvest—the largest deep-sea fishing fleet in the region, operating over thirty industrial vessels. He had handed me his card back then and said, “Clara, if you ever need a favor, call me.” I had never called him because the volume his company handled was far too large for our eight small bistros. But right now, I didn’t need his entire inventory. I just needed to show Frank that the road he thought he had blocked actually led to an ocean. I pressed call. It rang three times before a booming voice answered. “Clara! It’s been a long time. How are you?” “Hi, Arthur. I’m doing well. Actually, I need a huge favor. Do you have any spare capacity this season to supply a restaurant group?” “How much volume are we talking about?” “About eight hundred to a thousand pounds of mixed seafood daily, spread across eight locations. I can send you the exact manifest.” “A thousand pounds?” Arthur laughed. “Clara, one of my boats brings in fifty times that amount on a slow day. But you’re the girl who saved my catch last winter, right?” “That’s me.” The line went quiet for a moment. “Send me the manifest,” Arthur said warmly. “I’ll have my trucks deliver the fresh catch directly to your restaurants tomorrow morning. Don’t worry about the price. I’ll take care of you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455532”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

In the middle of the night, Buster, the dog who always kept me company while I collected plastic bottles, was hit by a car running a red light. Looking at Buster lying in a pool of blood, my whole body went numb. Shaking, I dialed Helen’s number. “Helen, Buster got hit by a car…” Before I could even finish, her screaming voice blasted through the receiver, cutting me off. “Where the hell are you, you useless brat? It’s the middle of the night! Why aren’t you sleeping instead of ruining my rest? How old are you? Can’t you just let me have one peaceful night?!” I clutched the two dimes in my hand, wiped my tears, and choked out, “I’m sorry, Helen. I just wanted to get enough money for my school field trip. You said as long as I didn’t make you spend money, you’d let me keep going to school…” Helen’s anger flared even hotter. “Are you blaming me now?! If it weren’t for you, I would have divorced John years ago and married a rich man!” “You’re nothing but a drag! No wonder John and Martha hate you!” “Calling me in the middle of the night over a stray dog? Are you trying to kill me?” Buster lay in the pool of blood in the middle of the road, listening to Helen’s screeching along with me. The only light on the empty night street was the dim, yellow glow of the streetlamp above us. I watched his bright eyes slowly grow dim. At his very last moment, he gently tapped my leg with his paw. It was as if he was saying, “Don’t be scared, Lily. Let’s go collect more bottles.” But he never stood up again. In the distance, a battered minivan silently pulled over to the curb. I heard a voice call out. “Hey kiddo, I have a ton of empty bottles at my house. Do you want them?” A crisp green hundred-dollar bill waved in front of my eyes. I hesitated for a second, then nodded. I carried Buster gently to the side of the road, then walked toward the man in the minivan. If he had that many bottles, I could save Buster. And I could go to school.

The screaming from the other end of the phone was colder than the winter wind howling down my collar. Holding the cheap prepaid flip phone Grandma Claire had left me, I stood frozen on the pavement. The car window rolled down, and a man leaned out with a warm, friendly smile. “Hey kiddo, I have a ton of plastic bottles and cans at my place. Do you want to come over and take them?” My swollen, tear-filled eyes instantly lit up. Bottles meant cash. And cash meant I could save Buster! His voice was so gentle. He didn’t sound annoyed like John, and he wasn’t screaming like Helen. I stared at him blankly. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a bill, and waved it. It was a brand-new, green hundred-dollar bill. I had never seen that much money in my life. The face of Benjamin Franklin on the bill seemed to be smiling at me under the streetlights. I hesitated, used all my strength to drag Buster to the grass by the curb, and whispered to him. “Buster, wait for me. I’ll be right back to save you.” I sniffled, a tiny spark of hope returning to my eyes. I walked toward the minivan. It was dark inside, smelling of something strange and chemical. The driver, Greg, glanced at me through the rearview mirror, still smiling. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’m taking you to get those bottles.” He handed me a bottle of water and a wrapped sandwich. I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. I tightly clenched the hundred-dollar bill and the sandwich in my hand. In my head, I did the math over and over. A hundred dollars. That was enough for my school supplies, and enough to take Buster to the vet. And Greg had more bottles at his place. That meant even more money. As I thought about it, the fear began to fade. But the car kept driving. The streetlights grew sparse, and eventually, we plunged into total darkness. The familiar streets vanished, replaced by empty, desolate fields and dark, towering woods. I asked softly, “Mr. Greg, are we almost there?” The man driving didn’t turn around. He just gave a cold grunt. The warmth in his voice was completely gone. Fear gripped my chest. I wanted to go home. I wanted Helen. “Mr. Greg, I want to go home…” My voice trembled, thick with tears. “Shut up!” he suddenly roared, making me flinch. “Make another sound and I’ll throw you out moving!” I didn’t dare speak again. I curled into the corner of the seat, clutching the crumpled hundred-dollar bill like it was my final lifeline. I don’t know how much time passed before the van finally stopped. The door was violently slid open. A stench of mold and urine hit me, making me cough instantly. A much larger man, Marcus, dragged me out of the van and shoved me into a pitch-black room. It was freezing. In the dim light filtering through the door, I thought I saw a few other kids my age huddled in the corners. I tripped and fell hard onto the cold concrete floor. The sandwich rolled away, but I kept the hundred-dollar bill squeezed in my fist. The man who dragged me in clicked on a flashlight, blinding me. He pinched my chin, forcing my mouth open to inspect my teeth, then hoisted me up by my collar like a wet rag. “This one’s no good,” Marcus said, touching the red birthmark behind my right ear. He turned to Greg. “She’s got a mark. We can’t sell her whole. The buyers won’t take marked kids for adoption.” Greg walked over, shining his flashlight up and down my body. He shrugged carelessly. “Doesn’t matter. Her parts are fine. Look at her chest. Her heart and lungs must be in great shape. She’s young and fresh.” Parts? What did that mean? I didn’t understand, but the dark, damp room filled me with dread. The truth finally hit me. The bottles were just a lie to get me into the van. A suffocating terror wrapped around me like a heavy net. Marcus walked toward me, holding a syringe. Looking at the cold, gleaming needle, I thought of Buster in the pool of blood one last time. I thought of Helen screaming at me on the phone. Despair washed over me. Buster was probably already dead anyway… Just like Grandma Claire. Once they are gone, they don’t come back. Even if I sold all the bottles in the world, I couldn’t have saved him. When the needle pierced my skin, I didn’t cry. I didn’t even fight. My mind drifted into a vast, endless darkness. Maybe, starting now, I wouldn’t be a drag anymore… John, Helen… could you love me now?

The first day I went missing was a wonderfully peaceful evening for my parents. When Helen got home from work and pushed the door open, she wasn’t greeted by my timid, “Welcome home, Helen.” There was no steam or smell of food from the kitchen. Only cold, quiet emptiness. She paused, her mouth opening out of habit to yell, “Where the hell did you run off to, you brat? Why isn’t dinner ready?!” But looking at the silent, exceptionally clean apartment, she swallowed her words. A strange sensation washed over her. The place hadn’t been this quiet in years. There was no sound of my pencil scratching against paper as I did my homework. No sound of me scraping the chair quietly, terrified of making her angry. And certainly no sound of Buster’s paws padding across the floor. It was… truly peaceful. She shook her head, dismissing the weird feeling, and muttered to herself. “Fine. Starve then. Let’s see when you decide to crawl back.” She walked into the kitchen, boiled some water, and made herself a plate of pasta. With a warm meal in her stomach, she sat on the couch and turned on the TV. Watching a loud reality show, she realized this was the most relaxing, comfortable evening she had enjoyed in years. Later that night, John came home. Not seeing me when he took off his shoes, he frowned. “Where’s the kid?” “Who knows,” Helen replied, her eyes glued to the screen. “Probably out playing. No dinner tonight.” “Hmph. Good. Starving for a night won’t kill her. Saves us some food.” John didn’t care at all. He went to the kitchen and drank some leftover pasta water. That night, they slept better than they had in years. The next day, I still wasn’t home. When Helen woke up and saw my empty little bed, a tiny flicker of anxiety crossed her mind. But she quickly convinced herself that she was just annoyed because there was no one to make breakfast. John was already dressed. Seeing her standing there staring at the bed, he snapped impatiently. “What are you standing there for? Make breakfast already! I’m going to be late for work!” That tiny flicker of anxiety was instantly crushed by her husband’s shout and the rush of the morning. All day, neither of them made a single call. It wasn’t until that evening that Martha, John’s mother, called. Her loud, grating voice boomed through the phone. After beating around the bush with some gossip, she finally got to the point. “The neighbors said they didn’t see the girl all of yesterday, and she didn’t show up for school today. Where is she?” Helen’s heart skipped a beat. She stuttered into the receiver, “She… she’s probably staying over at a friend’s house.” “Staying over? She’s a girl, and her heart is already wild!” Martha’s voice turned incredibly sharp and demanding. “I say, it’s better that she’s not there! Less of an eyesore. You two can finally breathe. Don’t waste time—focus on what matters and get to work on giving me a proper grandson!” Those words hit Helen like a heavy stone. She had heard this for years. Every time, it came with John’s silent agreement and Martha’s cold glares. Yes. If she had given birth to a son, she wouldn’t have had to endure her husband’s contempt and her mother-in-law’s abuse all these years. If only that girl didn’t exist… Would everything be perfect? After hanging up, Helen repeated Martha’s words to John. Instead of showing any worry, John slapped his thigh. “My mother is right! The brat is old enough to find her way. She’s probably fooling around with some friends. Ignore her. Let’s see if she has the guts to never come back!” The couple reached a silent, unspoken agreement. By labeling me as a “rebellious, unmanageable kid,” they successfully excused themselves from worrying about my disappearance. That night, they were intimate for the first time in a very long time, trying to conceive the baby boy they always wanted. For the first time in a decade, this middle-aged couple stayed up all night—not to fight, but to celebrate. Without me, the entire house felt harmonious.

From the third day to the seventh, Helen’s tiny remaining worry was completely replaced by the pure relief of having a quiet home. The apartment had never been this neat and peaceful. Helen didn’t have to come home to a noisy child. To be honest, she didn’t care where I was or what I was doing with that dumb dog. She didn’t have to buy clothes or shoes for me either. She even realized she was saving hundreds of dollars a month. On Friday, after getting her paycheck, she walked past a department store and found herself drawn inside. Using the money she had originally set aside for my school fees, she bought a luxury designer lipstick she had never dared to buy before. Back home, she stood before the mirror, clumsily applying the bright, vibrant red to her dry lips. The woman in the glass suddenly looked younger, more alive. John didn’t say a word about it. To him, my absence was as simple as having one less plate to wash. They never even considered calling the police. When neighbors occasionally asked, they used the same pre-written script. “She’s just going through a rebellious phase. Staying with a school friend. She’ll be back in a couple of days.” Together, they built a fragile, peaceful illusion. In this illusion, they were free parents, ready to start a beautiful new life. But on the seventh night, that illusion was violently shattered by a heavy, urgent knock on the door. Annoyed, John went to open it. Two police officers in uniform stood at the threshold, their faces grim. “Are you John and Helen?” “Yes, officers. Is there a problem?” John froze, a bad feeling creeping up his spine. “We need to verify some information.” The lead officer’s sharp eyes swept over the couple. “Do you have a daughter, about seven years old, named Lily?” Helen’s heart seized. Clutching her new lipstick, she stood up, trembling. “Yes… yes. She’s just staying at a friend’s house…” The officer ignored her excuse and spoke in a cold, professional tone. “This afternoon, we discovered the body of a young girl near an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. Based on the physical description, we believe it may be your daughter.” “That’s impossible!” John immediately snapped, his voice high-pitched. The officer glared at him, his voice dropping an octave. “The body matches your daughter’s description perfectly. For instance, she has a distinct red birthmark behind her right ear. Furthermore, we believe this is connected to a major child trafficking and illegal organ harvesting ring we’ve been tracking.” “What?” Helen’s mind went entirely blank. Only the words “red birthmark” and “organ harvesting” echoed in her skull. With a soft click, the luxury lipstick slipped from her fingers and hit the floor, snapping in half. The bright red tip smeared across the tile like a pool of fresh blood. The color that had recently returned to her face drained completely, leaving her looking paler than a corpse. Her lips trembled violently, but she couldn’t squeeze out a single word. A crushing terror squeezed her heart, cutting off her air. John jumped up from the couch, his face white as paper. But his expression wasn’t grief. It was sheer panic over the massive trouble this would bring them. He pointed at the officers, his voice shaking. “No way! You guys got it wrong! That kid was troublesome, but… but there’s no way she…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, silenced by the pity and disgust in the officer’s eyes.

Inside the freezing morgue, the corner of the white sheet was pulled back. It was enough to destroy any parent’s denial. Helen took one look, let out a piercing, inhuman scream, and collapsed cold onto the floor. John tried to play the strong man, but his hands shook so violently he looked like he was shivering. When he tried to sign the confirmation forms, the pen kept slipping from his fingers. The officer had to hold his hand steady just so he could scribble his name. When they got home, the silence in the apartment was suffocating. Helen lay paralyzed on the couch, her tears dried up, leaving only ragged, desperate gasps. John sat staring into space, lighting one cigarette after another, filling the room with a choking cloud of grey smoke. His mind was a mess. He wasn’t thinking of his daughter’s horrific death. He was thinking of the shame, how his boss at work would look at him, and how the neighbors would whisper behind his back. Finally, the silence was broken by his bitter, resentful voice. “…Even in death, she can’t let us live in peace!” He slammed his cigarette into the ashtray and cursed under his breath. “To have a useless liability like her, I must have been cursed in my past life! Now the whole block knows. She dragged my name through the mud!” Those words were like a red-hot iron rod shoved straight into Helen’s bleeding heart. She snapped her head up. In her swollen, bloodshot eyes, a wild, dangerous madness flared. Screaming like a wild animal, she lunged at John, clawing at his face. “John! Are you even human?! She was your daughter! Your own flesh and blood! How can you say that?! It’s you! It’s your family that killed her!!” John’s face stung from her nails. Furious, he shoved her hard onto the floor and roared back. “Shut your mouth, you psycho! If you weren’t so useless and could actually give me a son, would our house be like this? If you hadn’t kept making that miserable face every day, would I have hated looking at her? Would I have ignored her? Martha was right—you didn’t raise her right! You couldn’t even watch over a single kid!” “Can’t give me a son…” “Martha was right…” Those words acted like a key, unlocking seven years of buried resentment, abuse, and pain inside Helen’s soul. She remembered the disgust in Martha’s eyes every time she visited, and her venomous comments. She remembered how John always hid behind his mother, joining in to blame her. She remembered how I used to hide behind her, terrified, and how she—just to survive in this house, just to get a shred of validation from her husband and mother-in-law—started copying them. Hating me, screaming at me, using me as a punching bag for all her misery. It was them! They had turned her into a monster she herself despised! And together, they had killed her daughter! “Ahhh!!” Helen completely lost her mind. She scrambled up from the floor like a lunatic, crying and screaming as she grabbed mugs, the remote, and anything she could reach, smashing them violently against the walls of the suffocating apartment. “None of you are human! Martha wanted a grandson! She kept calling my baby a liability! And you? How many times did you ever hold her? Did you ever give her a single smile? Now she’s gone! She was cut open! Are you happy now?! You two drove her to death! You drove me crazy!!” “Smash! Crash!” The sound of shattering glass, a woman’s manic crying, and a man’s angry cursing echoed through the building, vibrating through the walls. Finally, the terrified neighbors dialed 911.

Inside the interrogation room of the police station, the harsh fluorescent lights shone down on two bruised, hateful people who looked more like mortal enemies than husband and wife. Even in front of the police, they screamed and hurled accusations at each other. Helen cried about John’s coldness and his family’s obsession with a male heir, while John screamed that Helen was a crazy bitch airing dirty laundry in public. An older detective, who had handled domestic disputes for decades, watched them in silence. He didn’t stop them. He just stared at the breaking woman. When they finally ran out of breath and their voices grew hoarse, he sighed and poured them each a cup of water. “Both of you, quiet down,” his voice was deep and heavy. “The child is dead. What’s the point of fighting over who’s right or wrong now? You built this life together, and you made it what it is. Treating a child as the source of your unhappiness and a punching bag—that was your biggest sin.” “If you, as parents, had shown her even a sliver of love, if you had actually paid attention to her, would a seven-year-old be out alone in the middle of the night? Would this have happened?” The detective’s words weren’t loud, but they hit Helen like a sledgehammer. She froze, her screaming stopping instantly as she sat there, stunned. It was as if a bolt of lightning had cleared the fog in her brain that had lingered for seven years. Countless memories she had tried so hard to bury rushed back. She remembered. She remembered when Lily was first born, and the nurse placed the baby in her arms. So tiny, so soft, with a wrinkled little face. Her heart had filled with an overwhelming warmth and maternal love. She had sworn to give that baby the best of everything. But when did it all change? It started when they came home, and Martha glared at the baby, her face long and disappointed because it wasn’t a boy. It started with John’s obvious disappointment and his weak excuses. Day after day, Martha whispered poison into her ear. “A girl is just a liability. She’ll belong to another family when she grows up.” “Look at so-and-so, she had a boy and holds her head high. You have no son, you have no standing in this house.” “It’s because of this girl that you have to work so hard, and my son is so tired.” And her husband, the man who was supposed to protect her, never said a word to defend her. He only agreed. “Martha is right.” “Why can’t you keep her quiet? She’s always crying. It’s driving me crazy.” “Look at her useless face. It makes me sick.” So, to survive in that suffocating household, to get a tiny nod of approval from Martha, to get a scrap of affection from John, Helen began to copy them. She began to despise me, scream at me, taking out her career frustrations, her life pressure, and her hatred of her in-laws on the most innocent life in the house. She had actually brainwashed herself into believing that my birth was what ruined her life. Only now, when her daughter had been torn from her life in the most brutal way, and when a complete stranger pointed it out—did she finally wake up. She wasn’t a bystander to my tragedy. She was the executioner! The root of the problem was never the “liability” child. It was the weak, selfish, cowardly husband sitting next to her. It was the toxic, misogynistic family behind him! And she, in her pathetic bid to survive, had chosen to join them. She became their accomplice! She had personally pushed her own daughter into hell. “No… no…” she whispered, tears streaming down her face again. But this time, it wasn’t out of self-pity. It was from a delayed, agonizing guilt that tore her soul apart. “I have to get justice… for my baby…” She looked up, a terrifying fire returning to her eyes as she glared at John. John, however, sneered at the detective’s words. Seeing Helen staring at him like that, he felt humiliated. He muttered to the officer, “Don’t listen to her, detective. She’s completely lost her mind.” He waved his hand dismissively at the detective’s attempts to comfort them. “Listen, officer, can we choose not to claim the body? She was just a girl anyway. Just let the state cremate her or bury her somewhere. We can’t afford a funeral.” The room fell into a deathly silence. Helen’s gaze on him became predatory.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455531”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My boyfriend was supposed to meet my parents today, but dinner time had passed, and he was nowhere to be seen. I sent three Snapchats and made two FaceTime calls. No response. In the private room of the restaurant, my parents asked me about him several times. I couldn’t even make up a decent lie anymore. Finally, my phone buzzed. His voice came through, filled with half-hearted apology: “Lily had an emergency, and I’m sorting it out. Go ahead and eat without me. Don’t wait.” I frowned. “Lily? That junior from your college?” “Yeah, she got scammed and desperately needs cash. I lent her that money we saved—all $15,000 of it. It’s tough for her being alone in this city, I had to help her get settled.” I held my phone, my fingertips turning icy cold. “So, you stood my parents up to deliver money to your college junior? And you used my money to do it?” “It’s an emergency, Chloe. Just explain it to your parents for me…” I cut him off: “No need. Go enjoy settling her in. We don’t need to see each other ever again.”

The other end of the line went dead silent for a second. He probably didn’t expect me to say that. “What do you mean by that?” Ethan’s voice carried a hint of confusion, mixed with a trace of impatience. “I’m just handling a temporary emergency. Why are you throwing such a tantrum?” I stared at the cheesy baked lobster on the table. My mom had specifically ordered it because she knew it was his favorite. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “I made myself very clear. We don’t need to see each other ever again.” “Chloe, can you please be reasonable? Lily is a young girl, and she’s going through a crisis alone in this city. How could I just ignore her? If it were you, would you want everyone to just stand by and do nothing?” I almost laughed out loud. “Ethan, out of that $15,000, ten grand was what I saved from my side hustles over the past two years. I don’t care who you lent it to. Give me my ten grand back within three days.” “Are you insane? The money is already gone! Where am I supposed to get ten thousand dollars in three days?” “That’s your problem.” I stood up and grabbed my coat from the back of the chair. “Three days. If I don’t see the money, I’m getting my lawyer involved.” “Chloe! Don’t be so dramatic!” “I’m being dramatic?” “Today was the first time my parents were supposed to meet you. I started booking the restaurant and researching the menu two weeks ago.” “I stayed awake until 3 a.m. last night, worrying you’d get stuck in traffic, worrying you’d be nervous, worrying my dad’s questions would be too hard on you. And what did you do? You took my hard-earned money to play the hero.” With that, I hung up and shut down my phone. My mom sat across from me. Her eyes were red, but she held back her tears. My dad took a sip of his coffee, then set it down. “Dad, Mom,” I forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I embarrassed you guys.” “Don’t say silly things like that,” My mom’s voice was a bit cracked. “Why should you be embarrassed? You’re not the one who did something shameful.” My dad remained silent. “The food is getting cold. I’ll ask the waiter to reheat it,” I said, pressing the service bell. “Chloe,” My dad finally spoke. “What do you plan to do about this guy?” “We are over.” My mom blinked. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep on it?” “Mom, he stood me and you guys up on a day like today just to take care of some college junior.” “What’s going to happen when we get married? When I’m giving birth in the hospital, is he going to run off to take care of her too?” My dad nodded. It was a very subtle gesture, but I saw it. “Break it off then,” My dad said. “It’s better to see his true colors now than later.” The waiter came in and took the dishes away. My mom took the opportunity to squeeze my hand. “Sweetie, I just feel so bad for you,” she whispered. “You prepared so long for today…” “I’m fine,” I squeezed her hand back. “Just think of it as a nice family dinner.” When the food was served again, my mom insisted on putting a piece of steak on my plate. “Eat up, don’t let it go to waste. The steak here is actually really good.” After dinner, I walked my parents to the subway station. Right before the turnstile, my mom suddenly turned around and gave me a tight hug. “If he doesn’t give you that money back, tell me. I have some savings.” “No need, Mom,” I patted her back. “I can handle this myself.”

My dad stood at the gate, looking back at me. He didn’t say anything, but he gave me a reassuring wave. Instead of calling an Uber, I decided to walk all the way back. It took me forty minutes to reach the apartment complex where I had lived for the past two years. It was an old, run-down brick walk-up. The hallway lights were perpetually broken. I pulled out my phone, turned on the flashlight, and climbed the stairs step by step. When I reached the door, I pulled out my keys. Before I could even insert them into the lock, I heard voices coming from inside. The door opened. The living room lights were on, and there was a pair of unfamiliar canvas shoes at the entrance. “Chloe?” A female voice came from inside, sounding a bit panicked. I looked up and saw Lily standing up from the living room couch. Behind her was Ethan. He was standing by the table, holding a disposable paper cup. “Why are you back?” Ethan frowned, his tone carrying an accusatory edge. I leaned against the doorframe. “This is my apartment. Why wouldn’t I come back?” “That’s not what I meant.” He paused. Lily stood there, looking incredibly awkward and uneasy. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Ethan was just trying to help. Please don’t blame him…” “You don’t need to apologize to me,” I cut her off. “He’s the one who lent the money, not you.” Ethan slammed the paper cup onto the table and took a few steps toward me. “Chloe, don’t talk like that. Lily is really going through a tough time. She got scammed and couldn’t even pay her rent—” “So you brought her to our home?” “What do you mean ‘brought her home’? I’m just letting her crash here for a couple of days. She’ll leave as soon as she finds a place.” I glanced at the living room. A thin blanket was spread over the couch, and the pillow was the memory foam one Ethan usually used. “You’re sleeping on the couch?” “Yeah. She gets the bedroom, and I take the couch,” He nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s just for a few days.” “Ethan, did you even bother to ask me? This is a shared apartment. You let a third person move in without even consulting me?” He was stunned for a moment, then his expression turned impatient. “Well, weren’t you supposed to be staying at your parents’ place tonight anyway? Besides, it was an emergency. She had nowhere else to go tonight.” “So because she has nowhere to go, she gets to move into my home?” “Does she not have other friends? No coworkers? Can’t she stay at a hotel?” Lily’s eyes welled up with tears, and her voice began to tremble. “Chloe, I’m really, really sorry. I’ll leave right now…” “Where do you think you’re going?” Ethan turned and grabbed her arm to stop her, then looked back at me with absolute disapproval. “Chloe, that’s enough. She’s just a young girl who just started her internship in this city. She has nobody else to help her. Do you really have to be this heartless?” “I’m being heartless?” Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit me. “You’re right. I don’t have to deal with this.” I walked straight into the bedroom, pulled open the closet, and started stuffing my clothes into a suitcase. Ethan followed me in. Seeing me packing, his voice finally lost its confident edge. “What are you doing?” “Moving out.” “Are you crazy? Over something this small?”

“Something this small?” I slammed a sweater into the suitcase. “Ethan, do you have any idea where you were supposed to be today? You were supposed to be at the restaurant, sitting across from my parents.” My hands were shaking, but I didn’t stop. “And what happened? We waited for you for an hour. My parents asked me three times where you were, and I couldn’t even come up with a single lie.” “I was actually terrified that you had gotten into a car accident. I was literally about to start calling local hospitals to check on you.” I zipped the suitcase shut and stood up to look him dead in the eye. “And all that time, you were busy playing white knight to your junior. With my money. Ten thousand dollars! You didn’t even ask me before you transferred it out of our shared account.” He fell silent. “And now, you’re telling me she got scammed and couldn’t pay rent, so she’s living in our apartment.” “Ethan, tell me. If you lent her fifteen grand, how on earth is she still unable to afford rent?” I stared at Ethan, waiting for his answer. He opened his mouth, his eyes darting away. “She got scammed out of nine thousand. Out of that fifteen grand, I left her one thousand for her living expenses.” “So out of fifteen thousand, nine thousand went to pay off her scam debt, and you gave her another grand in cash?” “Yeah.” Lily, who had quietly crept to the bedroom door at some point, was now letting her tears stream down her face. “Chloe, I swear I didn’t know that money belonged to you. Ethan told me it was his own savings, that’s why I…” “Save your tears,” I pulled the handle of my suitcase up. “Crying won’t solve anything.” Ethan stepped forward, trying to grab my hand. “Chloe, don’t leave yet. Let’s talk about this.” “Talk about what?” Lily whispered from the doorway, “Chloe, how about I give you back that one thousand first…” “That one thousand was mine to begin with,” I looked at her. “You getting scammed out of nine grand is your own business. But my ten grand? I want every single cent back.” “How can you be so cold-hearted?” Ethan’s voice suddenly spiked. “She’s completely broke right now! Where do you expect her to get that kind of money?” “Like I said, that’s your problem.” Lily suddenly rushed forward and grabbed my arm. “Chloe, please don’t leave. I’ll go. I’ll leave right now. I won’t stay here anymore.” “Let go of me.” “Chloe, I beg you…” “I said, let go!” I yanked my arm back. The force made her stumble backward, bumping into the shoe rack with a loud thud. Ethan’s face went pale. He rushed to support her, then whipped his head around to glare at me as if I had committed some heinous crime. “Chloe! What is wrong with you?!” Looking at the way he shielded Lily, everything suddenly became crystal clear. “You have three days to return my ten thousand dollars. Otherwise, I will contact my lawyer immediately.” His expression shifted to one of sheer disbelief. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Try me.” I opened the door and dragged my suitcase out. The hallway light was still broken. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight. Behind me, Lily’s crying voice echoed down the stairs, “Ethan, please go after her…”

After dragging my suitcase for twenty minutes, I checked into a cheap motel near our apartment. About ten minutes later, my phone rang. It was my mom. I took a deep breath and answered. “Hey, Mom.” “Did you get home safe?” Her voice was calm, as if nothing had happened this afternoon. “Yes, Mom. Don’t worry.” I didn’t tell her I was staying at a motel. “Good,” She paused. “Chloe, about that money… don’t stress too much. I’ll transfer you two thousand dollars tomorrow so you have some cash on hand.” “No need, Mom. I can handle it.” “Listen to me,” My mom’s voice suddenly turned serious. “You’re on your own out there, you need to have cash. That ten thousand was money you worked so hard to save. If he doesn’t pay it back, you can’t just let it go.” “I know, Mom. I gave him three days.” “Three days?” My mom was quiet for a moment. “What if he really doesn’t pay?” “Then I’m taking him to court.” Silence stretched over the line for a few seconds, and then my mom let out a soft laugh. “Good. Do exactly that.” After hanging up, I took a hot shower. When I got out, I saw six missed calls on my phone. All of them were from Ethan. After the sixth missed call, he had sent a Snapchat: “Chloe, you absolutely terrified Lily. She’s been crying in the living room for two hours. Do you even have a conscience?” I stared at the message for a long time. Even now, all he cared about was his precious junior. I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone and went to sleep. The next morning at 7 a.m., I was woken up by a loud knocking on my door. “Room service,” a man’s voice called out. I froze. I hadn’t ordered any room service. I walked to the door and peered through the peephole. It was Ethan. I had no idea how he had tracked me down to this motel. I didn’t open the door. “Chloe, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” I pulled my hand away from the doorknob and took a step back. “If you don’t open the door, I’ll just stand here all day.” “Suit yourself,” I muttered, then went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. By the time I finished washing my face and checked the peephole again, he was still there. He was leaning against the hallway wall, typing furiously on his phone. My phone vibrated. It was a text from an unknown number. “Chloe, let’s talk. I can explain everything about Lily, and I’ll find a way to get the money back. Please don’t shut me out like this, okay?” I put my phone down and packed my things. Ten minutes later, I dragged my suitcase and swung the door open. He immediately straightened up. “Chloe—” “Move.” “Can you just listen to me for five minutes?” “No.” I dragged my suitcase toward the elevator. He caught up and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. “Chloe! Just let me explain!” I stopped and looked at him. “Go ahead,” I let go of the handle and crossed my arms. “I’m listening.” “I didn’t handle the situation with Lily well,” He took a deep breath. “But Chloe, I swear I didn’t mean anything else by it. She’s just a young girl who just graduated. She didn’t know any better and got scammed out of nine thousand dollars.” “That money included the tuition fees her parents scraped together for her. She was so desperate she was having dark thoughts…” “And?” “So I couldn’t just stand by and watch. If it were you, you wouldn’t have ignored her either.” “Ethan, don’t bring me into this.” I looked directly into his eyes. “If it were me, I would have helped her file a police report. I would have helped her get free legal aid. I would have gone to the bank with her to freeze her accounts.” “But I would never have stolen our shared savings to pay off her debt, and I definitely wouldn’t have done it without consulting my partner first.” He fell silent. “Furthermore, you brought her into our apartment, let her stay in my room, and sleep in my bed. Did you even once consider how I would feel?” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Ethan, save your breath.” I grabbed my suitcase handle again. “You have two days left to return the money. Once you pay me back, we are completely done.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455530”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster