Author: Momo Chan

I’d just tossed my half-finished iced coffee cup into a trash can on the way home from school when a translucent wall of text exploded in the air right in front of me. [What’s up with this shot? Why are they sticking to this random background extra?] [OMG! Isn’t this the opening of Chapter One from the original novel! That exact trash can!] [Wait, did that background girl just look twice at the bin? Was that in the script?] I froze, the strap of my heavy backpack clenched in my hand. What… was that? The words hung in the air, like closed captions or a video stream overlay, but clearer, with a distinct, glowing edge. [Look, ladies! The iced coffee cup in her hand! It’s the first food Landon picks up in the book!] [Background Sis, don’t throw it out! Twenty feet ahead, turn right into the alley—there’s a kid there who’s about to pass out from hunger!] [That’s Landon Pierce! The real heir! His stepmom dumped him there seven years ago!] My heart slammed against my ribs. I whirled around. The street was empty. The after-school rush had dissipated, and there was no one speaking to me. A hallucination? 01 But the words kept scrolling: [Waaaah, Landon, my baby! Mom loves you! Please, Background Sis, go check on him!] [According to the original plot, he gets low blood sugar tonight, ends up in the hospital, where Sylvie finds him and tricks him into signing away his inheritance.] [Is the background actress ad-libbing? But her expression is so real…] I wasn’t an actress. My name is Ainsley Rowe, a totally average seventeen-year-old junior at Crestview High. Mid-range grades, totally forgettable looks. The kind of person you’d never spot in a crowd. But those comments… they were talking about me. On pure, dizzying impulse, I retrieved the coffee cup from the trash. It wasn’t dirty. I also dug out the second lunch container my mom had insisted I take from my backpack and walked toward the direction the text indicated. My heart was beating so fast it felt like it would shatter my ribs. Foundry Lane was worse than I imagined. Peeled paint, puddles of foul water everywhere. The late autumn wind cut through the narrow gap between the buildings, chilling me to the bone. In the deepest corner of the alley, a boy was crouched by a dumpster, reaching for a discarded bottle. He was wearing a faded, gray hoodie, the hood pulled low. I could only see a pale jawline and cracked lips. His fingers were long and slender, chapped red from the cold, yet there was a strange, almost… expensive quality to them. “Um…” He spun around. His hood slipped, and I saw his eyes. They were like two pools of stagnant water, black and utterly devoid of light. The pop-up text went wild: [Aaaah! It’s Landon! Screenshot this! What is she waiting for?] [My heart breaks seeing how he looks at people… Thrown out for seven years, he trusts no one.] [Background Sis, say something! Just say you accidentally bought an extra coffee!] I swallowed hard, holding out the items. “I… I grabbed the wrong size on my latte, too much caffeine for me. And my mom packed me a second lunch container by mistake. Would you mind helping me out? Otherwise, I’ll get an earful at home for wasting food.” I stammered through the ridiculous lie. He stared at me, then at the Tupperware, his Adam’s apple bobbing. [He’s struggling! He knows accepting charity is humiliating, but he’s starving!] [He’s been hungry for two days; only found half a stale baguette yesterday.] [Quick, tell him you’re from Crestview! Increase the credibility score!] “I’m a junior at Crestview High,” I said, pointing to my school hoodie. “I live right up the street in the Willow Creek apartments. I’m not a bad person.” His eyelashes trembled. “…Thank you,” he whispered, barely a sound. When he took the container, his fingertips brushed mine. They were ice cold, like marble. He squatted back against the wall, opened the container, and ate slowly. He chewed every bite for a long time, as if his stomach had forgotten how to function. The pop-ups began to flood the screen: [First meal achievement unlocked! Bless you, Background Sis!] [Who is this actress? She’s doing a great job; that tentative kindness is so real.] [This wasn’t in the original book! Is this an adaptation?] [Who cares! As long as Landon gets fed!] My throat tightened with emotion. When he finished, I asked softly, “Um… Could I look for you again tomorrow? My mom genuinely over-packs every day. I really need help eating it all.” He looked up, a faint ripple disturbing the dead water in his eyes. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay.” 02 I didn’t sleep well that night. The pop-up text flickered in my mind: [Checked it out! The Background Sis actress is Ainsley Rowe, a newbie, doesn’t even have an Instagram.] [The key thing is she changed the plot! Landon was supposed to pass out tonight!] [If she keeps bringing him food, will Sylvie never find him?] [But Sylvie is already looking for him. Her P.I. will find Foundry Lane by next week at the latest.] [I’m dying here! Can someone send a reminder to her?] Wait. I sat bolt upright in bed. The pop-ups can see me? They think I’m in a ‘show’? Which meant… I, and Landon, were living inside a script, and they were the audience? The realization was terrifying, making my hands and feet go cold. But the next second, I saw a new comment: [I wish the Background Sis could see the pop-ups. Tell her to move Landon out of the alley NOW!] I took a deep breath, whispering toward the empty air: “I… I can see them.” The pop-ups froze for three seconds. Then, they erupted: [???????] [Did I just hear a voice-over???] [No… she sounded like she was talking to us???] [The Fourth Wall is shattered!!!] I gathered my courage. “You mentioned someone named Sylvie. When will she find this place?” The text scrolled at warp speed: [HOLY CRAP! It’s interactive!!!] [What is this tech? VR captioning???] [Next week! Wednesday at the latest! Sylvie’s private investigator is already in the West End!] [Landon is staying in that abandoned electrical shed deep inside Foundry Lane!] [Background Sis, save him! His stepmom set him up! His mother left him a 30% stake in the company!] The information overload was dizzying. But the core mission was clear: Save Landon. The next day, I brought a double lunch, plus a duffel bag of my cousin’s old clothes. When I found Landon, he was meticulously organizing salvaged cardboard, his movements painfully efficient. “Landon.” He turned. Seeing the bag in my hand, he paused. “My mom went through my cousin’s closet. He outgrew all this. If you don’t mind…” “I don’t mind.” He took the bag, his voice still faint. “Thank you.” We sat together on a cracked concrete pipe, eating. He seemed slightly better today; his hands weren’t shaking as badly. “How old are you?” I asked. “Seventeen.” “Not in school?” “…I was, dropped out in eighth grade.” He picked at his food. “The shelter only provides housing until you’re fifteen.” A pop-up drifted by: [He says it lightly, but he was actually kicked out because he aged out and had nowhere to go.] [He hitchhiked back, thinking his dad would look for him, but saw Sylvie and her lover celebrating at the Pierce mansion.] [He stood across the street all night, then just walked away.] A heavy ache settled in my chest. “If… if you could go back to school, would you?” His utensil stopped halfway to his mouth. After a long pause, he said quietly, “Yes.” “I dream about it.” 03 I started bringing him food every day, telling my mom I was helping a “financially struggling classmate.” She would beam at me and praise my thoughtfulness. She gave me my younger brother’s hand-me-downs and even increased my allowance. I tried to slip him some cash occasionally. He refused. I countered, “It’s a loan. You can pay me back later.” He accepted everything, but insisted on keeping a ledger. The words in the small, scavenged notebook were surprisingly neat, unlike what a street kid would write: Nov 7. Lunch (Ainsley) Nov 8. Winter jacket (Ainsley) Nov 9. 11th Grade Physics textbook (Ainsley) I told him not to bother, but he shook his head. “I have to pay it back.” The pop-ups provided a daily intelligence briefing: [Sylvie’s lover is Trenton Hall, now the Pierce Corp. VP. They plan to marry as soon as Landon turns eighteen.] [Old Man Edward Pierce is sick. The will isn’t finalized. Sylvie is rushing to find Landon to force a signature.] [The PI has his picture, but hasn’t confirmed his identity yet.] On Wednesday afternoon, I skipped study hall to bring him a scarf—a thick, dark gray one I’d bought with my saved allowance. As I reached the alley entrance, I saw two men in dark suits questioning the owner of the corner store. “…Seventeen or eighteen, kinda lean, pale. Might be scavenging in this area.” My heart seized. I ducked behind a utility pole. Pop-up alarm: [It’s Trenton Hall’s people! They’ve found the neighborhood!] [In the original plot, the store owner is the one who gives them directions!] [Background Sis, grab Landon and run!] I raced into the alley. Landon was reading the physics textbook, the setting sun catching his eyelashes. He looked peaceful, like a painting. “Landon! Pack up. We need to leave now!” He looked up, confused. “Someone is looking for you. They don’t look like good people.” Sweat pricked my skin. “Maybe… debt collectors?” It was a clumsy lie, but he bought it. After seven years on the streets, he was familiar with malice. “Okay.” He closed the book, retrieved his ledger from under a stack of cardboard. “I know a bridge abutment not far from here.” “Wait.” I grabbed his sleeve. “You can’t keep hiding.” I looked him in the eye. “Give me a week. I’ll figure out a place for you to stay, and… get you back into school.” His pupils dilated slightly. “Why?” His voice was hoarse. “Why are you doing so much for me?” The pop-ups rolled: [Tell him you can’t stand it!] [Say you want to save him!] [The real reason is we gave her the spoilers…] But I couldn’t say that. “Because…” I heard my own voice tremble. “Because you deserve to be treated well.” His eyelashes looked damp. “…Okay.” 04 That night, I did something incredibly daring. Following the clues from the pop-ups, I found the number for Harrison Reid, the former legal counsel for Pierce Corp. He was a long-time associate of Landon’s deceased mother, Helena Pierce, and had always suspected foul play in her “accident.” I used a payphone outside a convenience store. “Mr. Reid, I’m Ainsley Rowe. I think… I know where Landon Pierce is.” Silence on the other end. “Do you know the consequences of making a false claim?” “He has a red mole behind his left ear, and a burn scar on the web of his right hand. He got it when he knocked over the candles on his seventh birthday.” I rushed the words out. “He’s using the name Landon now, and he’s staying in the West End, but he has to move tonight. Sylvie’s people are closing in. If they find him first, he’ll be forced to sign a property waiver, and then he’ll ‘accidentally’ die.” A longer silence. “What do you want?” Harrison Reid’s voice was low and guarded. “First, guarantee his safety. Second, get him into school. Third… don’t bring him back to the Pierce mansion yet. Not until he’s capable of protecting himself.” “You’re just a student.” “Which is why Sylvie won’t suspect me.” I said. “Mr. Reid, if you want to honor the memory of Ms. Helena Pierce, you need to trust me.” I hung up, my legs shaking too much to stand. The pop-ups erupted in cheers: [Background Sis is a certified badass! She went straight to the key NPC!] [Harrison only found Landon after three years in the original book, and by then it was too late!] [This pushed the plot forward by at least six months!] But I knew the trouble had just begun.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390432”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The cold medicine Kellan gave me was burning a hole in my gut. Victoria, the eldest, a Chief of Surgery known as “The Top Scalpel of Manhattan,” declared I needed an immediate stomach pump. Aaliyah, my childhood sweetheart and fiancée, was screaming, her voice raw. “I just want my husband back!” My three sisters’ eyes were raw with unshed tears. “It’s okay, Dev. Sleep it off. We have the best doctors and the best meds right here.” In that moment of searing, agonizing pain, I was overwhelmingly grateful that the people who loved me were all around me. Then, as I waited for the anesthesia to kick in, I heard their voices just outside the door. Victoria’s tone carried a chilling, almost excited edge. “Devon is perfectly healthy, and his blood type and age are an exact match. This is a rare opportunity. We’ll just perform the heart transplant for Kellan while we’re at it.” Sasha, the CEO, agreed immediately. “I’ll make sure all the evidence is destroyed. Devon won’t ever know.” Elise, the pharmaceutical professor, chimed in, her voice clinical. “I’ll go back to the lab and formulate a highly potent suppressant. It will ensure Devon doesn’t suffer when we replace the faulty heart.” A long moment of silence passed before Aaliyah’s voice, thick with relief, cut through the quiet. “Kellan genuinely needs a strong heart to achieve his music dreams, and as for Devon… we can just shower him with compensation later… I’ll sign the surgical consent form now.” I felt as if my entire body had been plunged into an icy bath. My chest constricted, a phantom pain that felt as if someone had already gutted me and brutally ripped the organ out. At that moment, a familiar yet strangely detached electronic voice cut in: [ALERT! Monitoring a threat to the Host’s life force!] [Final confirmation: Are you truly willing to forfeit all rewards and remain in this world?] I laughed, a silent, internal sob. This time, their counterfeit love couldn’t hold me here anymore. … I tried to thrash and roll off the bed, but the nurse expertly shoved the intubation tube down my throat and nose as a massive dose of anesthetic flooded my system. Before my consciousness completely fractured into darkness, I saw him being wheeled in: Kellan, the cherished adopted younger brother who had poisoned me—my heart failure was meant to be his salvation. Victoria, scalpel in hand, gave the nurses a chilling instruction. “Forget about Devon for now. Prep his heart for Kellan’s transplant.” I felt the knife’s edge bite through layers of tissue, and in my last fragment of wakefulness, I heard Tori’s murmur. “Just hold on, Kellan. When you wake up, you’ll finally be able to shine on stage.” When I regained lucidity, my first thought was to confirm with the System. [If my physical body dies, I return to my original world, my heart condition cured, and I get a hundred million dollars, right?] [Confirmed.] The bitter irony of it was hilarious. I had agreed to cross over and “save” these four women fifteen years ago because I couldn’t afford to treat my own congenital heart disease. And now, the four women I spent fifteen years saving were trading my heart out for a sick one. I didn’t hesitate. I ripped the oxygen tube from my face. Breathing instantly became a desperate, agonizing struggle. My throat tightened as if it were being choked, and no amount of air would reach my lungs. My face went purple; I was seconds from suffocation. Yet, a faint, peaceful smile touched my lips. Death was a blessing. I wouldn’t have to live another day facing their exquisite lie of love. The heart monitor screamed a frantic, piercing alarm. My three sisters and Aaliyah burst through the door with a team of nurses. “Devon!” they screamed. Tori immediately performed CPR, saving my life. Once the oxygen mask was back in place, her eyes were bloodshot as she roared. “Are you insane? Why would you pull out your oxygen tube?” Aaliyah knelt by the bed, tears streaming down her face as she slapped herself repeatedly. “Blame me, Devon. It was my fault. I asked Kellan to bring you the medicine that day.” “I thought it was just for your cold. I didn’t realize you were severely allergic and that the toxins attacked your heart directly.” “But don’t worry, darling. Tori is the best doctor in the country. She’ll fix you.” She crawled toward me on her knees, desperately gripping my hand. “I’ve already had the consulting doctor punished—she’s been blacklisted from the industry. Don’t blame Kellan, and don’t do this to yourself. You have so many people who love you!” Seeing my silence, Sasha spoke, her voice strained. “She’s right, Dev. I’ve already contacted every hospital overseas. We’ll find a suitable donor heart for you, fast.” Elise gently patted my arm. “I’m heading back to the lab now. I’ll develop a customized treatment plan that will have you breathing easy and back to normal soon.” I felt a profound, chilling cold. How utterly pathetic. They thought a few flimsy lies would erase the fact that Kellan poisoned me, that they planned to steal my heart, and that they had already begun the surgical process. A mocking smile stretched across my lips as I looked at the four women surrounding my bed. “Where is Kellan? I want to ask him myself.” Tori’s brows furrowed. “You’re still going to blame Kellan? He had a massive heart episode from the guilt, and we barely saved him by rushing to find an emergency donor.” Elise, who had doted on me the most since I was a child, rushed to intervene. “Sweetheart, stop this now. Focus on getting well. Tori saved Kellan; she’ll fix you too.” I let out a soft, dry laugh. “How convenient. Surgery at the same time, my heart fails, and Kellan just happened to find a donor?” The room fell into a heavy, dead silence. “Devon…” Tori began, her face unreadable. I was too exhausted for their lies. I forced another small smile. “Just kidding. Go check on Kellan. I’m happy he’s better, too.” My sisters froze, wanting to argue, but I simply pulled the blanket over my head. When I uncovered my face, the sisters were gone, but Aaliyah remained, her eyes filled with guilt. I smiled blandly. “Go check on him for me, please. Tell me how my little brother is doing when you get back.” She finally turned and left, her steps quick and decisive. Finally alone, I slowly exhaled. My hand trembled as I unlocked my phone. Before the surgery, I had used the single wish the System owed me to retrieve two video clips. I watched the clips, my gaze fixed on the screen, compulsively replaying the moment they conspired to replace my heart. I watched Tori’s cold, professional removal of my heart and its careful placement into Kellan. The blood in my veins ran ice cold. I felt a sudden, fierce gratitude that I hadn’t died just yet. Because leaving them this easily would be too kind. During my hospitalization, they ensured one of them was with me every day, but they’d always rush off. I assumed they were truly busy. One day, needing the restroom, I found myself unattended. I unhooked my IV stand and slowly shuffled toward the bathroom. Passing a room, I glanced through the window and saw Aaliyah, who had rushed off to a crucial board meeting, carefully feeding a gourmet potsticker to Kellan. My three “swamped” sisters were also there, watching him with indulgent smiles. Tori’s voice, though firm, was loving. “Kellan, you can’t pig out just because you’re recovering. Those potstickers are too rich.” Kellan playfully tugged on her pristine lab coat and whined sweetly. “I can’t help it! Sasha’s cooking is the best.” He then complained. “It’s annoying having all of you hovering around me every day. I can’t even sneak any extra treats.” I dug my nails into my palm, forcing a self-deprecating smile. I had been eating bland, takeout congee for days. Kellan was getting gourmet meals, personally cooked by Sasha, surrounded by all of them. I turned stiffly to return to my room, only to overhear a hushed conversation between two nurses outside the station. “I heard the Maxwells’ actual son is the one I’m taking care of. Doctor Maxwell is ruthless—she specifically told me to keep him on a strict regimen of nutrient injections. She’s keeping him healthy to use as a walking blood bank, in case Master Kellan has a severe rejection reaction and needs a full-body blood exchange.” I froze mid-step. The incisions on my chest and abdomen felt like they were tearing open again. The pain was paralyzing. How did it come to this? I remember a time when a simple scrape would send Tori into a panic. She had gone to medical school specifically to ensure she could take better care of me. Sasha and Elise were no different. When I first arrived, my health was frail, and I was constantly sick. When I was near death once, they had walked up the steps of the city’s grandest cathedral on their knees, praying for my health and offering massive charitable donations for good karma. After I recovered, Sasha, who had been an aimless socialite, plunged into the business world, desperately building a fortune to pay for my treatments. Elise abandoned her art studies and switched to pharmacology, aiming to formulate a better, less bitter medication for me. To accrue more good fortune, they even rescued Aaliyah Stone, a brilliant but penniless orphan caught in a blizzard, and brought her into our lives. The entire city knew that Devon Maxwell was born under a lucky star, having three sisters who worshipped the ground he walked on and Aaliyah, the tech prodigy, who was his devoted fiancée. As an orphan, I had desperately clung to this overwhelming, intoxicating affection. After completing the System’s mission to “save” them, I refused the reward, choosing to stay with my sisters and Aaliyah. But then Kellan arrived. The day they brought him home, my three sisters hugged me and swore. “Devon, he just looks so much like Dad, and he has the same heart defect. We can’t just ignore him.” “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’re adopting him to bring you good karma. You’re still our one and only center of the universe.” I believed them. I genuinely wanted to embrace him. To show my goodwill, I gave him my room. I always reminded the sisters to bring him a gift when they traveled. Feeling bad that his heart condition kept him from doing much, I even brought him along on most of Aaliyah’s and my dates. Gradually, Kellan cemented his place in the family. He’d proactively charm the sisters for favors and gifts. He’d playfully bicker with Aaliyah. But slowly, subtly, their attitude toward me began to shift. If Kellan stumbled near me, Tori would immediately snap, “Did you hurt Kellan?” Sasha, on the rare occasion she cooked, made only Kellan’s favorite spicy Sichuan dishes. Elise’s research priority shifted to creating a miracle cure for Kellan’s heart. Even Aaliyah, during an argument, snapped. “Why can’t you be more like your brother and just ask me for what you want?” And finally… they conspired to steal my heart for him. The emotional swell of pain returned, and it felt like my heart was being scooped out all over again. I wanted to escape the house of horrors, but moving too fast, I slipped. The surgical wounds on my chest and stomach tore open. In the blinding agony, I curled into a ball. My mind fractured, and I let out a desperate, instinctive whimper. “Sister…” Just before I blacked out, I saw my sisters and Aaliyah rushing toward me. Tori reached me first, hoisting me up, her voice sharp with anger. “Devon Maxwell! Did you see us with Kellan and decide to hurt yourself again just to get attention?!” I was discharged and placed under strict watch by a home nurse, forbidden from leaving or doing anything to harm myself. I was confined to a wheelchair, too weak to move, and dependent on help even for the bathroom. Meanwhile, Kellan was running and jumping with abandon. Aaliyah held her phone, taking a video of him. My sisters watched him, their faces glowing with proud, affectionate smiles. Bored and heavy-hearted, I tried to wheel myself away. “Ouch!” Thump. Kellan fell. “Kellan!” The four women rushed to him, helping him up immediately. He pointed a finger at a small metal lock that had fallen from my wheelchair onto the floor, his voice thick with tears. “Brother, I know you blame me for the medicine, and I know you’re jealous that my heart is fixed while yours is still failing, but…” He burst into sobs. “But I’m finally able to move around! How could you throw something down to trip me on purpose?” Tori quickly examined Kellan’s leg, gently rubbing his slightly scraped skin. Sasha’s face turned an ugly shade of gray, a vein throbbing in her forehead. “Devon Maxwell! What have we taught you? How could you become so malicious?” The others glared at me, their faces a mix of confusion and pure rage. My fractured heart felt like it had been stabbed twice more. I whispered. “I… I didn’t! That piece fell off the wheel yesterday…” “Don’t you dare try to lie your way out of this! We’ve indulged you too much!” Sasha’s fury was overwhelming. She raised her hand to strike me. Just as her hand flew toward my face, Aaliyah stepped in to block it. “Sasha, Devon has been through so much trauma lately. We need to give him time.” Elise pulled Sasha back gently. “Let it go. Kellan, didn’t you want to try that new French bistro? Let’s take you out to celebrate your recovery.” Her eyes turned cold as she looked at me. “As for you, go reflect on your behavior!” Aaliyah tried to stay, but Kellan rushed up and grabbed her hand right in front of me, shaking it pleadingly. “Aaliyah, please come with me! You promised to take me out to dinner if I was brave enough for the surgery!” Aaliyah’s face tightened. “I need to stay with your brother… he…” I stared at their hands, subtly intertwined, and spoke, my voice hoarse. “Since your brother wants you to go, then go.” Aaliyah patted my head gently. “I’ll be back soon, darling. Be good at home. I’ll bring you your favorite lobster bisque.” But I woke up at 3 AM. The side of the bed was empty. Aaliyah had not returned all night. The mansion was dark, except for the dim light spilling from Kellan’s room. His door was slightly ajar. As I wheeled closer, I heard a man’s and a woman’s voice. Aaliyah’s voice was low and breathless. “Easy, baby. Not so fast. You’re still recovering…” Kellan’s voice, thick with emotion, cut in. “My heart is fixed now. When are you finally going to divorce him? I met you first! You were always mine!” Aaliyah’s soft, velvety murmur followed. “You’re my true love, baby. But… Devon saved my life. I can’t abandon him, and besides, Tori needs his blood in case you have a rejection reaction.” I felt a bucket of ice water poured over my head, the chill sinking to my bones. My hand shook as I clutched my phone, leaning my head back against the cold wall, my eyes closed. The entire night, I listened to them—the laughter, the breathless entanglement, the declarations of twisted love. The next morning, my three sisters were about to leave for work and saw me leaning against Kellan’s door. “Devon, why are you out here?” I beckoned them closer, then burst into Kellan’s room. As the three sisters gasped in astonishment, I tore the duvet from the bed and took several rapid-fire photos of the two people naked and entangled beneath it. Aaliyah screamed, scrambling to cover Kellan, her face a mask of terror. “Devon Maxwell! What in God’s name are you doing!” I clutched my chest, gasping for air, and hissed. “What am I doing? What do you call lying naked in bed with my brother, my wife?” Aaliyah’s face changed. “Last night… there was a storm. Kellan was scared and asked me to stay.” Kellan’s face was deathly white. He wrapped the duvet around himself and knelt on the floor, grabbing my sleeve. “Brother, I’m so sorry. I was just… too terrified last night, so I reached out to Aaliyah.” Tori immediately pulled him up. “Aaliyah must have been drinking last night and walked into the wrong room by mistake.” Sasha instantly backed her up. “It’s normal. When Kellan was little and afraid, I used to sleep in his room, too.” I slowly turned to Elise. She laughed nervously. “They’re right, Dev. Kellan would never do this.” Why were they so blindly biased toward Kellan? I was shaking with helpless rage. I raised my phone. “I have the audio of your glorious night right here. Shall I play it for my sisters?” Kellan stared at the phone in horror, then suddenly turned pale, gasping for breath. “Sister… I can’t breathe.” “You are not going to fake it!” SMACK! Tori’s palm connected hard with my face, sending me sprawling to the floor. I covered my stinging cheek, looking up at Tori in disbelief. “Why are you looking at me like that? If you hadn’t agitated him, Kellan wouldn’t have collapsed!” She rushed Kellan to the family emergency room. “Hurry! Bring Devon in, too! We need his blood to save Kellan now!” Sasha and Elise dragged me into the sterile room. Panic washed over me. I thrashed and shivered uncontrollably, kicking my legs and trying to crawl backward. “Please, no… don’t…” Aaliyah held the large-gauge syringe, her expression unsettled. “Kellan is like this because you provoked him. Isn’t it the least you can do to give him some blood?” Sasha and Elise held me down tightly. Looking into their resolute, cold eyes, I realized the struggle was pointless. I closed my eyes in resignation and slowly extended my arm. My voice was quiet. “Take it. Draw every last drop from my body. Save your precious Kellan.” Elise quickly averted her gaze, covering my eyes. Her voice was weak. “Be a good boy, Devon. Just a little blood. It won’t hurt.” An hour later, Tori stabilized Kellan. The four women sighed in collective relief. Tori removed her mask, her voice cutting and cold. “Alright, Devon Maxwell. Now we can properly address the matter of you intentionally causing Kellan to collapse.” She turned to face me—and all four of them stopped dead. I was curled up on the adjacent gurney, unmoving. A surgical scalpel was plunged deep into my chest. The gushing blood had soaked the sheets and stained the clean tile floor crimson.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390431”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was living inside one of those old-school, overly dramatic YA novels. I ran a little shop called The Sparkle Box. Today, the ‘heroine’ and the ‘mean girl’ visited my store. They both zeroed in on the exact same crystal barrette. A stream of text—my private “Commentary comments”—popped up in front of me. [The two sisters are fundamentally the same.] [God, I hate this heroine. She wants it so badly but plays the untouchable Golden Girl.] [Seriously, this tired catfight trope? Don’t they have other boys? Don’t they have other barrettes?] Of course, we had others. I reached beneath the counter and hauled up a massive cardboard box. “Let me grab you both a fresh one,” I said, pulling out a handful of the sparkly clips. “And I’ll even throw in a quick braiding service, on the house, sweethearts.” 1 As I was ringing up a sale, a mother and daughter started arguing right in front of my counter. The mother was furious about the hair accessories. “You need to focus on your studies! What’s the point of obsessing over this useless garbage every day? Can’t you be more like your sister and give me some peace?” The mom—Mrs. Davies, I think—picked out a few notebooks and school supplies to purchase, ordering the girl to put the rest back. “I am absolutely not buying you any of that. You spend all your time at school not studying. Are you just trying to flirt with boys and get yourself into trouble?” The words were unnecessarily cruel. My shop is right next to Westwood High, and several students were milling about, glancing at the girl, whispering. The mom just dumped the girl and the school supplies and stormed out. I sighed. I scooped up the barrettes she’d been forced to put down and pulled the girl back to the small entryway behind the counter. “These are on me, but you can’t tell anyone, okay?” The Commentary comments flashed again. [Don’t help her, she’s the villainess.] [Why is she already so obsessed with ‘serving the look’? Her mom’s right, she should be focused on school.] [If she had focused on school, would she have failed out of college and stolen her sister’s boyfriend?] 2 I’d known for a while that the world I inhabited was just a tired old YA novel, and I was just a tiny NPC who ran a trinket shop. Thankfully, online shopping hadn’t quite taken over yet, so business was decent. The students from Westwood High came here for cute notebooks to copy song lyrics and sparkly hair clips to dot their heads with. But they were still asking their parents for money, so fights like the one I just witnessed weren’t uncommon. I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but I saw the girl bite the inside of her hand, trying desperately to hold back her tears, bracing herself against the humiliation. That lost, flinching pain was something I’d felt in my own teenage years. I hadn’t realized who she was until the Commentary comments named her: Juniper Davies—the resident mean girl, the villainess of the novel. The one who skips class to do her makeup, constantly envies her “perfect” older sister, Phoebe, eventually falls for Phoebe’s crush, and ultimately tries to sabotage her, leading to her own ruin. The comments was quick to mock my kindness. [The shop owner is just setting herself up for bad karma.] [It’s not kindness, she’s just trying to buy loyalty so she’ll bring more customers.] I was about as innocent as they come. I tried to press the clips into Juniper’s hand and move on, but she stepped back and bowed, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I will pay you back.” As she straightened up, her knit cap slipped, revealing a choppy, uneven patch of hair at the back of her head. 3 It was only then that I realized Juniper’s hair hadn’t been cut at a salon. Her mother, in a cruel punishment for vanity and to make a few quick bucks, had dragged her to a makeshift street vendor who bought hair, and let them hack it off with rusty shears, not caring that the girl would be ridiculed at school. The hair clips and scrunchies weren’t for fashion; they were to hide the mess, to avoid the strange looks and whispered comments. Now, exposed, her face burned crimson. She snatched her cap, clamped it back on, and looked ready to flee. I gently stopped her. I put on my brightest, cheeriest smile. “I forgot to mention, buying barrettes here comes with a complimentary styling session.” I pulled out my salon scissors and a comb. “Let me just even up the ends for you, sweetie? A clean edge makes braiding much easier.” But first, a proper wash. I led her back to the sink, adjusted the water temperature, and washed the loose strands off her neck. She was rigid with awkwardness, her hands clutching the seams of her uniform pants, yet she couldn’t stop looking at the conditioner and hair oil I was using. “My mom never lets me use stuff like this. Once I secretly used her face wash, and she said I should be studying, not thinking about showing off…” All she’d wanted was to calm down her teenage acne and tie her ponytail tight enough that it didn’t pull on her scalp. “Am I wrong to want to be pretty, Sis?” I expected the comments to erupt in a flurry of moral judgment. Instead, it was eerily silent, the only sound the running water in the sink. I gently wiped the water splashing near her eye. “It’s completely normal to want to look pretty.” You shouldn’t feel guilty, and you definitely shouldn’t be punished for it. You just need a little patience and guidance, a chance to define beauty for yourself, on your own terms. That’s how you avoid going from one extreme to the other. [It’s totally normal for girls to care about their looks. Guide her, don’t chop her hair off, that’s so abusive.] [But she still ends up trying to steal her sister’s boyfriend. That can’t be excused.] Just as I finished styling Juniper’s hair, the book’s heroine, her older sister Phoebe Davies, walked in. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, and thank you for looking after Junie.” Phoebe was polite and well-mannered, pulling neatly folded bills from her textbook to pay for her sister. Juniper, who had finally calmed down, suddenly shoved her sister away, her eyes blazing with hatred. “Don’t you dare pretend to be nice!” 4 The comments exploded instantly. [See? She’s a spoiled brat.] [The mean girl is irredeemable. If I were her mother, I’d like the sister more, too.] For the next few days, I didn’t see Juniper. She seemed to be deliberately avoiding me. She’d sneak in when I was busy or in the back, drop some money on the counter, and vanish. It added up to nearly twenty dollars, her promise to repay me for the barrettes, saved up little by little from her lunch money. Finally, I pretended to be dozing at the counter and waited for her. “Why are you dodging me?” “I’m not.” She instinctively denied it, then looked at me, hesitating. When she saw only genuine confusion in my eyes, she asked her own question, perplexed. “You don’t hate me? Everyone who meets Phoebe first always ends up hating me.” In her mind, her sister was quiet, beautiful, and brilliant. Everyone loved Phoebe and disliked her, finding her too aggressive, moody, and unreasonable. She knew her mother cut her hair to sell for cash so Phoebe could have tutoring. That’s why she’d been so furious and upset when Phoebe offered to pay. “She’s always like that. She says she doesn’t want anything, but everyone rushes to give her whatever she wants. I want things, and I get accused of wanting too much.” But I could see the truth: she didn’t hate her sister. Whenever she picked out a hair clip or a pretty notebook, she’d buy two. Phoebe would quietly wait outside after her night classes, playing with a small hourglass on my display shelf until Juniper was done, then they’d walk home together. When I asked if she wanted the hourglass—I’d give it to her—Phoebe just smiled and shook her head. Juniper, behind Phoebe, rolled her eyes and mouthed a silent message to me: “See? Told you. Don’t-Want-Sis.” That was her nickname for Phoebe. Unlike Juniper’s openness, Phoebe always kept a polite distance from me, even after many visits. If Juniper wasn’t around, Phoebe rarely spoke to me. Until that night, when Phoebe rushed into the shop, tears streaming, asking if I’d seen her sister. “She had a fight with Mom and ran out. She hasn’t come back.” 5 The fight started because Juniper had bought a lacy, fancy bra and hung it on the balcony to dry. Mrs. Davies found it and instantly assumed her husband was cheating and had brought some “wild woman” to the house, causing a massive, public row that the whole neighborhood heard. When she realized it was Juniper’s, she slapped her. Then, grabbing the bra in one hand and her daughter’s hair in the other, she dragged her from door to door, announcing: “Look at this daughter of mine! She’s so young and already buying things like this to lure men!” [That bra is truly questionable, though. What kind of high schooler buys that? It doesn’t look decent.] [Judging someone by their clothes is cheap.] [Is she dating someone? Also, the size looks way too big for her.] It was past nine, and the school was locked. Phoebe had called all of Juniper’s friends; no one had seen her. She hadn’t come to my shop. Where would she go? Then I heard the shouting from the alleyway down the street. “You crazy little brat, who takes back merchandise that’s been bought?” A girl was shoved out of a rolled-up metal door, landing hard in a puddle of dirty water. “You lied to me!” The girl scrambled up, her voice cracking. “It’s not even wearable! You cheated me!” In the dim light, I recognized the choppy haircut—it was Juniper. After the fight, she’d realized the bra wasn’t what she needed, so she’d tracked down the vendor to demand a refund. He refused, even leering at her. “What do you mean, not wearable? Put it on. I’ll tell you what I think.” I sprinted over and pulled Juniper behind me, blocking the vendor’s sightline. “Preying on a little girl like this? You should be ashamed!” It was too late to deal with the vendor, so I focused on getting Juniper home. She was clutching my hand, tears pouring out. “Sis, I don’t have any money left to buy a new one…” 6 It had only been thirty dollars, but she’d saved it by skipping three weeks of breakfast. “Tell you what, I’ll stock some affordable options next week. You can come pick one out, okay? And just like before, you can owe me and pay me back whenever.” My heart broke. On my next trip to the city, I picked up a few styles of plain cotton training bras in various sizes. I only intended them for girls like Juniper whose parents neglected this part of her development. My shop wasn’t a lingerie store, and I wasn’t making any real profit. But then, that weekend, a group of girls, their faces flushed with embarrassment, showed up. I realized just how many girls didn’t have a single proper bra. Some were wearing ill-fitting hand-me-downs that gaped open. Some were wearing ones that were too small and had been mocked by boys during gym class. Others were wearing cheap underwire bras, and the wire had poked through the fabric, leaving their ribs raw and red—they thought it was normal. The internet wasn’t widespread then. They didn’t know how to pick a size or material, how to wear one correctly. They were too embarrassed to go to a proper store and too shy to even discuss it with each other. That’s why Juniper had made a mistake. I handed a soft, cotton bra to Phoebe. She instinctively started to refuse. “It’s from Junie. She already paid for it.” That thirty dollars had been for Phoebe all along. Phoebe was developing quickly but was still wearing a child’s undershirt with no support. During track and field, boys would sometimes deliberately crouch low to look at her. “What good is it if she just holds her chest all the time!” Juniper had fretted, desperate to buy her sister a bra, making me promise not to tell Phoebe. The comments, watching this exchange, was silent for a long time before someone typed: [Well, the sisters don’t have any reason to fight yet. The guy hasn’t shown up.] [Just wait for the guy to show up and mess everything up.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390430”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To vet my wife’s competence, my father had arranged for me to conduct a surprise audit of the company she managed. I genuinely thought it would be a formality, a quiet walk-through. Instead, the moment I stepped onto the floor, I saw a baby-faced college guy staring, mesmerized, at the paper shredder. “Whoa, this thing is so cool,” he mumbled. He reached for a stack of documents on a nearby desk, looking ready to feed them into the machine. A colleague next to him went white as a ghost and lunged forward. “My God, my little prince, I thought you were playing video games in the CEO’s office! Why are you out here?” The guy just grinned. “Heh, I got thirsty.” As he spoke, his hand holding a full cup of water slipped, splashing the entire contents directly onto the main power switch. The entire office floor went black. A collective wail of despair rose from the workstations. I grabbed the nearest intern and quietly demanded to know who in God’s name had hired that imbecile. The intern immediately clamped a finger to his lips. “Lower your voice, man. He’s, like, our CEO Sloane Albright’s partner. Word is, this whole company is technically his.” “You must be new. You’ll get used to it. He usually just plays games in the CEO’s office and doesn’t bother us.” My temples began to throb. If he was the CEO’s partner, then what the hell was I? I pulled out my phone and called my father. “Dad, you can cancel the inspection. Tell Sloane Albright to come back here and bring the divorce papers.” 1 My father sent me to the branch to evaluate Sloane Albright. He said it was a routine check, nothing to stress about, just a chance to get an early feel for the operations. I assumed it was purely for show. I checked in with the front desk as a corporate reviewer from Headquarters, and the assistant politely swiped me through the secured access. The second I entered the main office, I saw him. He was dressed in an almost aggressively casual white button-down, a little too young for the setting, and was crouched in front of a heavy-duty shredder with an expression of pure, childlike fascination. “Wow, this machine is so cool. Can it eat anything?” He reached over and casually picked up a file from a nearby desk. I caught a glimpse of the cover: “MERGER AGREEMENT,” stamped in bright red. Without a second thought, he started to push the thick document toward the hungry teeth of the shredder. A bespectacled colleague next to him instantly turned a sickly shade of gray. He flew across the cubicle and nearly body-checked the younger man, snatching the contract out of his hands just in time. “My sweet Lord, weren’t you supposed to be in the office playing your games?” His voice was thin with terror. “Why did you come out? We need this contract for the presentation this afternoon!” The younger man was mildly annoyed by the collision, but didn’t seem angry. He just grinned, shaking an empty, disposable cup. “Got bored with the game. Got thirsty.” The colleague visibly sagged with relief, clutching the document to his chest as if it were his own beating heart. He lowered his voice, the tone almost a plea. “Then please, please, go get your water. I’m begging you. Go back and drink it in the office, okay? Doesn’t the CEO’s suite have its own dispenser?” The guy rubbed his nose. “The water in there tastes weird. I want the water out here.” He walked off toward the communal kitchen, completely ignoring the colleague’s near-sobbing expression. My temples were hammering. I caught the eye of a young intern standing near me. “Who is he?” The intern glanced at me, then quickly checked the guy’s retreating back, his eyes full of fear. He put a finger to his lips, shushing me. “Keep it down, man.” He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s our CEO Sloane Albright’s partner. Name’s Brody Jennings.” My heart seized. Sloane’s recent abnormal behavior—the late nights, the sudden secretiveness—it all clicked into a terrifying explanation. The intern continued, his face etched with a maturity beyond his years. “I heard the company technically belongs to him, so he’s the real boss here.” “You just started, right? You’ll get used to it.” He sighed, an expression of crushing corporate exhaustion. “He usually stays locked in the CEO’s private office, playing games or watching TV. He doesn’t interact with us.” “Sloane must be away at a meeting today, and he got bored enough to come out and wander.” The buzzing in my head intensified. He was the CEO’s partner. So what am I? The intern saw the look on my face and asked with concern, “You alright, man? You look sick.” I shook my head, managing a tight smile. “No, I’m fine. Just… surprised.” “A company can have someone like that here. I’m truly… enlightened.” The intern shrugged bitterly. “Just live with it. He never actually does anything. We just keep our heads down and pray he gets tired and goes back inside.” I didn’t reply. Never actually does anything? If that contract had been shredded, a multi-million-dollar deal would have collapsed. Who would have taken the fall for that loss? I watched Brody Jennings emerge from the kitchen, humming a tune. I pulled out my phone, intending to call my father, but paused. No. Walking away now would be letting Sloane off too easily. My father sent me to evaluate her competence. Now I knew that her competence, and her character, were catastrophic failures. I needed to see just how far this branch had descended under her management. I straightened my jacket and walked back to the front desk. “Hi. I’m Cameron Montgomery, the Project Reviewer from Headquarters.” “Please set me up with a temporary workspace, preferably somewhere quiet. And this review is internal. I don’t want Ms. Albright to know I was here.” The receptionist nodded respectfully. I took a corner seat in the main office and fixed my gaze on Brody Jennings. He was now holding his cup of water and curiously inspecting the fire alarm on the wall, looking like he was debating whether or not to press the red button. 2 Sloane was out for the morning. Brody must have finally maxed out on video games. He drifted out of the executive suite again, a storm cloud of corporate disruption. He strolled the floor, idly poking at one colleague’s half-finished design sketch, then tapping on another’s keyboard, generating a stream of garbled code. Everyone held their breath when he approached, unable to speak, rushing to check their work for damage the moment he passed. He ambled to the water cooler, grabbed a paper cup, and filled it up. Whether from clumsiness or intention, his hand twitched. The entire cup of water, full to the brim, arced through the air and splashed precisely onto the wall next to the dispenser. That wall housed the main power switch for the entire floor. There was a loud sizzle and a spray of blue-white sparks. The overhead fluorescent lights died instantly. Every single computer monitor in the office went black, a silent, sickening wave of darkness. A few seconds later, the office exploded in a chorus of agony and curses of pure despair. “My code! All morning on this code! I didn’t save!” “My design draft! The client is waiting! The last, crucial step!” “My quarterly report! Due at two! I’m ruined, we’re all ruined!” The Head of Tech, Luke, sprinted out of his office. He saw the wreckage—and Brody Jennings standing there, looking perfectly innocent—and his face turned to stone. Luke’s lips tightened, his fist clenched and unclenched, and he finally swallowed whatever he was about to say. Brody, however, spoke first, his voice dripping with annoyance. “What’s the matter with this place?” “This switch is so cheap. It broke just from a little water. Why is everything in this company such low quality?” His talent for immediate and total blame deflection was truly astonishing. The Administrative Manager rushed over. He looked at the smoking power switch, then at Brody. Immediately, he adopted an overly obsequious smile. “Brody, are you hurt? Did that frighten you?” “It’s not your fault at all. It must be old wiring. We’ll fix it right away. I’m calling someone to replace it with a new, waterproof one!” “Please, go back to the office and rest. We’ll handle this.” Brody pouted, still dissatisfied, but finally turned and retreated to Sloane’s suite. The manager wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and began organizing the emergency repairs. As he walked past, I stopped him. “Sir, does this sort of thing happen often?” He recognized me as the guy from Headquarters, and a look of bitter defeat crossed his face. He pulled me into the stairwell of the fire escape, lowering his voice. “You’re the reviewer, right? There are things I shouldn’t say, but after today…” He sighed heavily. “The truth is, he’s Ms. Albright’s darling. We can’t touch him.” “Sloane is out of town today, so there’s no one to keep him in check.” “Normally, when she’s here, she at least keeps him locked up in her office…” His face was a mask of despair. “Last time, he ‘accidentally’ knocked over a cup of coffee.” “That coffee landed directly on our core server rack.” “All our company data was scrambled. The tech team worked nonstop for a full week to recover it. A week of everyone’s work, gone!” “And what happened then?” I asked. “Ms. Albright said the tech department was negligent, that the server was placed in a hazardous location. She docked our entire department’s quarterly bonus.” “She said it was a lesson for us to be more mindful.” My heart sank, inch by bitter inch. This was Sloane’s management. She enables an idiot to run rampant through a multi-million-dollar company, and then forces all the hardworking, diligent employees to pay the price for his stupidity. Sloane Albright, you are incredible. Just then, the door to the GM’s office creaked open. Brody poked his head out and yelled to the dark office. “I’m bored! Why is the power still out? My phone is almost dead! Are there any snacks in the kitchen?” No one answered. The only sound in the entire office was a suffocating, absolute silence. 3 The moment the engineers restored the power, my father called. He needed a core market data file. He said the Group Board needed the document that afternoon and that I must handle it personally, without any mistakes. I copied the data onto a drive from the Market Director and headed to the print room. I had just finished collating the document and clipped the pages together when the door burst open. Brody Jennings sauntered in, holding a can of Coke. His eyes lit up when he saw the heavy-duty stapler on the table next to my files. “Hey, let me borrow that. My chip bag tore open.” He reached out, his hand instinctively going for the stapler. I instinctively shielded the confidential documents and the stapler, pulling them back just out of his reach. His hand met empty air. His momentum sent him stumbling, and his foot caught on a power cord. The can of Coke slipped from his grip. The brown liquid flew in a perfect, precise arc, landing squarely on the stack of top-secret documents I had just printed. The thick pile of A4 paper was instantly soaked, turning the pages into a pulpy, ruined mess. Watching the destruction of the file, I finally lost my detached composure. I looked up, my gaze locking onto Brody’s face. He showed no remorse, only irritation that I hadn’t loaned him the stapler. My voice was flat and cold. “Can you cover the financial loss of this document?” Brody had probably never been questioned with such cold authority by a mere employee before. He paused, then his face flushed with rage. “How dare you talk to me like that?” “Do you even know who I am?” He puffed out his chest, his indignation righteous. “I’m the CEO’s husband!” I stared at him, feeling nothing but a profound, cold amusement. “Oh?” I asked calmly. “So the CEO’s partner is free to destroy company property? Free to ignore all our rules and regulations?” My retort clearly challenged his invented authority. He became frantic, pointing a finger directly at my chest. “Of course, I can!” “This company belongs to Sloane, which means it belongs to me! I can do whatever I want!” “Who the hell are you? Some new guy trying to lecture me?” Colleagues who had heard the commotion were now watching from the doorway, too terrified to move. A few administrative staff were tugging at my sleeve, their eyes pleading with me to just apologize and back down. I didn’t move. I simply held his gaze. Brody, feeling his public pride slip away, pulled out his phone, a sneer of triumph on his face. “Fine, you want to play tough? You think I can’t handle you?” “I’ll let your boss tell you exactly who I am and who you are!” He immediately video-called Sloane Albright. The call connected almost instantly. He turned the screen toward himself, waiting for his protector to appear. 4 The second the video connected, Brody’s voice became shrill and loud. He aimed the phone at his face, his voice full of manufactured indignation. “Sloane! What kind of company are you running? A new employee is trying to bully me!” “I just wanted to borrow a stapler, and he refused. Then he ruined the documents himself and tried to blame me, even threatening to hit me!” “If it wasn’t for you, I would have fought him already.” He twisted the truth completely, playing the victim of a colossal injustice. From the other end of the video, Sloane’s voice came, soothing and gentle. “Don’t be angry, sweetheart. Your wife is here. No one can bully you. I’ll handle it.” I could see her in a solemn conference room, the corporate logo prominent behind her. She was clearly at an industry summit crucial to the company’s future. But she had just stopped a critical meeting for this man. “Hand the phone over to him.” Sloane’s tone snapped from gentle to icy. She was speaking to the space behind Brody, toward all the employees, her voice a chilling command. “Who upset my Brody?” “Give the phone to him. I’ll speak to the person myself. I want to see who has the nerve.” Brody’s face broke into a triumphant smile. He shoved the phone at me, his chin raised high, his eyes full of provocation and victory. I calmly took the phone. My face came into sharp focus on the screen. Sloane saw me and her composure crumbled. A flicker of panic crossed her face. “Cameron? What are you doing there?” Her brows furrowed tightly, as if my presence was merely a bothersome complication. “Don’t get upset! Wait until I get back, and I’ll explain everything!” I looked at the familiar face on the screen, the face I had once believed would be mine forever. In that moment, she felt utterly alien and pitifully ridiculous. Seeing my cold silence, her tone grew impatient, bordering on a threat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cameron. I’m in a crucial meeting. The future of the company rests on this summit.” She had reduced everything to me being “ridiculous.” Her stupidity and moral bankruptcy finally broke my calm. I nearly laughed. I leaned into the camera and spoke, my voice sharp and cutting. “Perfect, Sloane.” “Your competence, your leadership—I’m done with the evaluation.” I didn’t wait for her response. I threw the phone back to the stunned Brody. Then I pulled out my own phone, dialed my father’s number, and hit call. The instant he picked up, I spoke. My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clearly through the silence of the print room and echoed across the stunned office floor. “Dad, you can cancel the inspection.” “Tell Sloane Albright to come back here. And tell her to bring the divorce papers.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390429”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I found my husband in the storage room with a woman from the assembly line. When I rushed in, he shoved me back, his eyes flashing with raw annoyance. “So what if a guy needs to blow off a little steam? Don’t make a scene, Ellie. I’m about to be promoted to section chief, and you’re just a housewife who couldn’t feed herself without me. Who gave you the right to come down here?” Unlike my frantic breakdown, the other woman’s husband, a quiet, broad-shouldered man I vaguely recognized, simply lifted his eyes. “Why?” he asked. The single word hung there, heavier than any shout. Chelsea Lowe, the woman, pulled her work uniform back on with a dismissive roll of her eyes. “You’re never home. All you do is shove cash at me, and you couldn’t even get me a decent benefits package. I don’t want a pile of cash, I want stability. A life. And a husband who’s present. Am I wrong to ask for that?” Overnight, we became the laughingstock of Stanton Steel Mill. The morning I finalized the divorce, dragging my battered suitcase out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back, I saw the tall, broad-shouldered man standing outside the courthouse, his eyes wide and unbelievably lost. On a desperate, unhinged impulse, I reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “I want a lot of money,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. “I want security. Look at me. Do you think I’d… suffice?” … Calvin Walker—Cal—flashed with surprise. He just stared at me, saying nothing, and I felt my cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. We knew each other, though barely. We’d been in the same eighth-grade class. I was the class president, meticulous and organized. He was the student treasurer, quiet and focused. We hadn’t exchanged a single word since graduation. And here we were, meeting again in the aftermath of a disaster—my husband and his wife caught red-handed. The atmosphere was unbearable, and I was just about to stammer out that my offer was a sick joke, when he spoke. “I’m an independent contractor,” Cal said, his eyes fixed on the pavement. “I’m on the road constantly. I won’t be able to give you a lot of my time, and I won’t be able to ‘care for you’ in the traditional sense. But I will send home every dime I make. You will never have to worry about money again.” I froze. Was he… serious? Cal pressed his lips into a thin line, a light red creeping up his neck. He looked profoundly uncomfortable. “I still live with my mother and my younger brother and sister. They keep to themselves, you don’t have to worry about them bothering you. But… if anything difficult happens, a household crisis… I’d be grateful if you could look out for them.” I nodded automatically. “Of course. They’d be family.” The words hung in the air, causing both of us to stop short and blush fiercely. Cal—all six-foot-three of him—stood there and nervously scratched the back of his neck. “Then… let’s go,” he mumbled. It wasn’t until we walked out of the Justice of the Peace office, a brand-new marriage certificate clutched in my hand, that I fully processed the last twenty-four hours. This morning, I’d divorced Gary Miller. This afternoon, I’d married a stranger based on a transaction. Ellie Stone, you’ve truly lost your mind. Cal naturally took my suitcase. We turned a corner and were suddenly standing in front of his house. A teenage boy burst out the door, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing red. Close behind him was a shy, timid little girl who’d clearly been crying. “Cal! She took everything that wasn’t bolted down! The dress you bought for Daisy, she even snatched that!” Cal was instantly focused on soothing his younger siblings. I stood to the side, feeling like a clumsy intruder. When he finally calmed them down, he turned to me, his expression full of genuine guilt. “I have to leave for the city tonight. I’m so sorry. Our first day of marriage and I have to…” I waved a hand dismissively. “Work is important.” He gave me another round of worried instructions, then picked up his travel bag. He made it to the mouth of the alley before stopping. After a long hesitation, he spun around, took two massive strides back to me, and gave me a lightning-quick, one-armed hug. “Wait for me,” he said. The scent of simple, clean laundry soap hit me—the kind you use on heavy work clothes. My heart skipped a beat. I watched until his silhouette vanished completely, then slowly walked into the small yard. Cal’s mother, Ma Walker, frail and bent, came out to greet me, her eyes full of profound anxiety. “Child, Cal told me everything. You’ll stay in this room. Sam does the heavy work, and Daisy cooks a simple meal. We won’t be any trouble to you.” I glanced at Sam and Daisy, neither of whom reached my shoulder, and let out a quiet sigh. I’d grown up in the same industrial park—I knew the Walker family’s story. Their father had died in a mill accident, leaving behind an old mother and two minors. It was heartbreaking. I offered them a gentle smile, a smile that was also for myself. “I’m married into this family now. We’re one. Don’t talk like strangers.” I rolled up my sleeves and walked into the tiny kitchen, where I was immediately stunned. There was a full-sized electric refrigerator humming quietly in the corner. I remembered how the Mill Director had bragged for weeks when he got his. Gary had just called me crazy when I suggested we buy one. It seemed this ‘independent contractor’ really was making money. Using what ingredients I could find, I quickly whipped up four bowls of simple chicken sandwiches and fried a few eggs. Sam and Daisy silently bowed their heads, devouring the food. Ma Walker was overwhelmed, gripping my hand and repeating, “You shouldn’t have, child. You shouldn’t have.” I felt a sudden, unexpected warmth spread through me. It was the first solid, peaceful meal I’d eaten since I discovered Gary’s betrayal. I noticed Daisy’s hair was matted and sticky, and casually offered to wash it for her after dinner. All three of them looked up at me, their expressions suddenly shifting. Before I could ask why, the front gate exploded open with a crash. “I didn’t believe it when they told me! Eleanor Stone, you really are here!” My mother stormed into the yard, her face thunderous, with a few nosy neighborhood women trailing behind her. I rose to meet her. “Mom, what are you doing here?” She rushed into the yard, pointing a finger directly at my nose. “What am I doing here? I heard about Gary! What man doesn’t fool around a little? And you, you just divorced him! Now that gold-digger Chelsea has him cornered—I hear she’s forcing him to set a wedding date!” I took a deep breath. “Mom, Gary was caught with another woman in the storage room. The whole plant saw it!” She cut me off impatiently. “So what! What good is your pride when you’re out on the street? And now this! You married Cal Walker! Everyone knows his family is dirt poor, with a sickly old mother and two drain-on-the-system siblings!” My face went cold. “It’s too late. I’m already married to him.” She stomped her foot in fury. “You’re an idiot! Your father and I chose Gary Miller for you—a Union man, a technical position, such stability! Now you’re stuck with a traveling salesman who has no benefits and no fixed job!” My voice dropped to a level of icy calm I didn’t know I possessed. “Cal doesn’t have a Union job. But at least he respects me. That makes him better than Gary, a thousand times over.” Ma Walker shuffled forward, trying to placate her. “In-law, Ellie is a good girl. We may be poor, but we will never mistreat her. Cal is a quiet man, but his heart is honest…” “You shut your mouth!” My mother shot Ma Walker a look of pure contempt, then turned back to me. “Fine. Your wings are grown. I can’t stop you! But you’ll come crawling back to me when you’re broke!” She slammed the gate shut as she left, leaving a ring of gossiping neighbors. I simply bowed my head and continued eating. For five years with Gary, I’d been a puppet: cooking, cleaning, waiting. And for what? At least now, for the first time, I had made a choice for myself. The days settled into a strange rhythm. Cal’s letters arrived every week, rain or shine, a short update on his travels and work. His handwriting was beautiful, I remembered that from eighth grade. I wrote back, telling him everything was fine at home. It was odd—we’d known each other for years, married after a day, yet we communicated with a strange, easy synchronicity. Ma Walker was frail but never complained. Sam, at thirteen, was incredibly responsible. Daisy, meanwhile, simply began to shadow me. I heated water on the stove and was washing her hair when she suddenly whispered, “Ellie, you’re so nice.” I paused. “Was… was your old sister-in-law not nice?” Daisy went silent. Sam, standing nearby, scoffed. “She hated us. Said we were dirty. Complained we made the house look cheap. All she did was argue with Cal and demand money.” A sharp pang hit me. I could understand Chelsea’s desire for security, for a better life. But destroying two families to get it, and taking it out on two children, was a different kind of wrong. I ruffled Daisy’s clean hair. “I’m your sister-in-law now. We’re a family.” Daisy suddenly turned and hugged me. Sam stood stock-still, but the light in his eyes was bright and clear. I started to think that this quiet life was better than anything I’d known—a peaceful, if uncertain, existence. Until Chelsea Lowe showed up at the gate. “Oh, this yard is just as depressing as I remember.” I put down the laundry I was folding and walked out. There she was. She surveyed the small yard with a look of utter disdain. Ma Walker stepped out of the kitchen, her face instantly pale. “What do you want?” Chelsea gave a cold smile. “Mrs. Walker, I’m in the Mill Administration’s Property Division now. And according to Mill policy, housing is only for active employees and their immediate, dependent family. Cal is an independent contractor. You no longer qualify to live here.” I gently pushed the furious Sam behind me and stepped forward. Chelsea looked me up and down with a sneer. “Ellie Stone. I can’t believe you actually married into this. What, Gary dumped you, so you were desperate enough to pick up his trash?” “Show some respect,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. She laughed, a thin, brittle sound. “I’m doing my job. You have until the end of the month to vacate. The Mill needs to reclaim this property for redistribution. Honestly, you should be happy. This place is a dump.” Chelsea stalked off in her high heels. I placed a calming hand on Ma Walker’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. What she says isn’t the final word.” I changed my clothes and headed straight to the Mill. The huge, gray main gates looked exactly the same. “Well, well. If it isn’t Eleanor Stone.” I stopped. Gary Miller was standing there, his smile widening. “Can’t stand that shithole house? I heard Chelsea is kicking you out. Told you that traveling man couldn’t hold a candle to me. Regretting it yet?” I met his eyes, saying nothing. His grin became predatory. “Look, if you’re really desperate… For old times’ sake, I could help you out. No title, of course—Chelsea and I are getting married next month. But I could find you a little place, somewhere you could occasionally keep me company…” I lifted my chin. “Gary Miller, do you have any shame?” His face hardened. “Don’t play high and mighty with me, Ellie. You’re a divorcee who married a trucker—a piece of used goods. Don’t pretend you’re above anything.” A small crowd was starting to gather. My head was pounding, my body trembling with rage. But I didn’t turn away like I used to. Instead, I looked him dead in the eye. “I’m divorced. I married a contractor. But I work for everything I have. I don’t steal, I don’t cheat, and I don’t destroy families. You? Caught with your pants down, a laughingstock. Did you get that section chief promotion? No. Now Chelsea is forcing you into marriage, and your mother’s in the hospital from the stress. Who has the pride now?” Gary’s face went scarlet. He lunged forward to grab me. I instinctively stepped back, right into the path of the Mill Director, Mr. Henderson, who was just leaving the commissary. My mind clicked. I charged forward, cutting him off. “Mr. Henderson! I’m Eleanor Stone, Cal Walker’s wife. I apologize for stopping you, sir, but I need to ask you, in front of all these good people, for justice!” The courtyard went silent. Mr. Henderson frowned. “Ms. Stone, let’s discuss this in my office.” I shook my head, setting my jaw. “It needs to be said in the light! This!” I held up a piece of yellowed paper. “This is the official seven-year-old Worker’s Comp. agreement for Mr. Walker’s father, who died in the line of duty! And this is the Mill Committee’s resolution!” The crowd swelled. My hands were shaking, but I forced my fists tight and kept my head high. “Mr. Henderson! Fellow workers! Mr. Walker gave his life to this Mill! He left behind a sickly wife and two minor children. The Mill promised to care for them! And now, because his son, Cal, is not a full-time Union employee, the Administration wants to throw this family out of the home they’ve lived in for fifteen years! Is that what you call justice? Is that what this Mill stands for?” A roar of chatter erupted. Old workers were nodding, their faces full of sympathy. “You can’t take that house!” someone yelled. “Old Man Walker was a good man!” “This is a disgrace!” Mr. Henderson’s face was dark. Chelsea, having heard the commotion, rushed over, her face panicked. “Ellie! What are you doing? The housing rule is Mill policy!” I shot her a cold look. “Chelsea, you’re misusing your small piece of authority. Are you doing this for policy, or because you’re still bitter? You stole everything valuable from that house when you left—aren’t you afraid of karma?” Chelsea was choked into silence. Mr. Henderson finally spoke, his voice booming. “Mr. Walker was a dedicated worker! The Mill’s commitment to his family is forever binding! You will not be moving! We will look into the Property Division’s actions immediately! Ms. Stone, does that satisfy you?” I knew a victory when I saw one. I thanked him profusely and spun around, heading for the exit. When I reached the quiet alley, my legs went weak, and I nearly collapsed. All my life, I’d listened to my parents, then my husband. I was the master of passive compliance. If my divorce was my first act of defiance, this was my first act of strength. I finally had people I was willing to fight for. The house was saved, but the Mill Director confrontation became the new gossip. Everywhere I went, people whispered. Thanks to Gary and Chelsea’s mudslinging, the story had been twisted: I was the unhinged harpy who’d made Gary’s life hell. Cal was the abusive, broke slob. They were the tragic, destined couple. I just scoffed. There was truly no limit to shamelessness. Chelsea even sent a wedding invitation. I tucked it into my purse. “Go? Of course, I’m going,” I told Ma Walker. “A free meal is a free meal.” Their wedding was at the finest banquet hall in town. Rumors flew that Chelsea had demanded an engagement ring, a brand-new car, and five thousand dollars in cash. The whole town was buzzing. Gary had given my parents three thousand dollars years ago, and my mother had bragged for a month. Chelsea was going out in style. I arrived with Sam and Daisy. Chelsea spotted me immediately and glided over. “Well, look who came. I heard your husband hasn’t sent a letter in over a month. Did he lose his shirt and decide not to come home?” I rolled my eyes and took a seat under the curious gazes of the crowd. Gary, already red-faced and tipsy, leaned close to me. “Ellie, I never meant to divorce you. It was just a fling. You had to make a scene, and look what happened. All this—the money, the title—it should’ve been yours. Now you’re with that bum. My buddy saw Cal down south. He’s flat broke. He won’t show his face here.” I gave him a look of cold dismissal and told Sam and Daisy to focus on their meal. Gary slunk away, nursing his pride. As the champagne flowed and the sickeningly sweet toasts continued, Gary’s face grew redder, and Chelsea leaned against him, the picture of smug triumph. I took it all in, meeting every judging stare. Then the restaurant door burst open. The three neighborhood women who’d followed my mother came charging in. “Ellie! Go home! Your husband is back!” I snapped my head up. But Mrs. Henderson, her mouth set in a grim line, grabbed my arm. “Ellie! Stop eating! Cal… your Cal… something terrible has happened!” My heart slammed against my ribs. “Mrs. Henderson, what is it? Did he have an accident?” She couldn’t articulate it. Finally, she slapped her thigh. “I can’t explain! Just get your things, take Sam and Daisy, and hurry!” My face went pale. I threw down my fork, grabbed the kids, and sprinted out the door. Gary and Chelsea exchanged a look and, with no hesitation, followed. The lavish wedding reception instantly emptied out. A massive, anxious crowd streamed out of the banquet hall and down the alley behind me. I reached the mouth of the alley and my breath hitched. My eyes went wide with disbelief.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390428”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the party, my husband’s childhood friend read aloud from a phone. “Seven-year itch—how do you make divorce look inevitable?” Corey Reese, to everyone who knew her—smiled, leaning conspiratorially against my husband. “Seb, you and Jules are almost exactly seven years in,” she purred. “Aren’t you bored yet?” My husband, Sebastian Holt, was absorbed in a document on his phone, barely bothering to lift his head. “We’re fine. It’s… convenient,” he muttered. I was deeply unsatisfied with his answer. Because I was the one who posted the thread. 1 Not getting the reaction she wanted, a flicker of disappointment and awkwardness crossed Corey’s face. She quickly covered it up. Just then, her phone rang, giving her a graceful exit. “Oh, I need to take this outside.” She stopped at the door, turning back. “Shoot, I forgot my coat in the car. Left it in the underground lot.” Sebastian finally looked up, his movements natural as he took off the expensive wool coat hanging on his chair. “Take mine. And hurry up.” Corey winked playfully. “Yes, sir.” The friends in the private room watched the familiar exchange, used to this rhythm. Only Preston Brooks’s new girlfriend frowned, tugging at my sleeve. I smiled at her and shook my head, signaling that I didn’t care. “Excuse me. I’m going to the restroom.” 2 By the time I walked back toward the room, Corey still hadn’t returned. I was about to push the door open when I heard Preston’s voice inside. “Seb, Corey’s been single for years. She has to be waiting for you, right?” A moment of silence, then another voice chimed in. “Totally. Back in college, Corey and Seb were the campus Golden Couple. Who knew he’d end up marrying…” “Seb, you’re not tempted at all?” I realized the music had stopped at some point. The low light of the room played across Sebastian’s face. He paused for a few seconds before answering. “I won’t destroy my life.” The room went silent after that, until the person who had asked coughed and awkwardly changed the subject. A bitter, mocking curve lifted my lips. Sebastian was a fundamental perfectionist. For years, he had played the role of the ideal, dutiful husband. But he didn’t love me. I was simply the woman designated by a decades-old family alliance, the perfect partner to merge with his life plan. We graduated, we married. Everything was a checklist item on his meticulously planned roadmap. Even after seven years, my lack of pregnancy was because he had decreed we wouldn’t have children until he turned thirty. He wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t let a single stain jeopardize the perfect life he had built. But he never, ever, refused Corey’s easy intimacy. 3 Corey came back with red-rimmed eyes. She drank glass after glass, talking about how her family was pressuring her to settle down. When the party wrapped up, she was sobbing and draped over Sebastian, refusing to let go. The others filed out, one by one. Sebastian stood by the door, supporting a wobbly Corey. When the valet pulled his car around, he turned to me. “Call an Uber. I’m driving Corey home.” I was busy scrolling on my phone, disinterested. I just nodded. Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “Don’t throw a tantrum, Jules. The car has a dashcam. You can review the footage when I get back.” Was he blind? Who was throwing a tantrum? I rolled my eyes internally, then looked up, plastering on a fake, sugary smile. “It’s fine. I trust you. Go on.” Sebastian stared at me, his expression unreadable—a mix of confusion and scrutiny. He finally said nothing, turning to gently guide Corey into the car. 4 When I got home, I took a long, hot bath, sipped a glass of Pinot Noir, and was ready for bed. The front door opened quietly. Sebastian came upstairs, showered, and changed into his silk pajamas, all without making a sound. Just as I was drifting off, he slid into the bed and wrapped his arm around my waist from behind. The sudden contact startled me instantly awake. He pressed his mouth to my ear, his breath still faintly smelling of whiskey. “It’s our designated evening…” His hand began to drift lower, growing bolder. I quickly pressed down on his hand, sat up, and pulled the comforter around myself. “I’m not feeling well tonight.” Sebastian froze. He sat up slowly, adjusting his pajama collar. “Your cycle passed last week.” His lips tightened, his eyes dark, filled with a mixture of displeasure and suspicion. “You’re angry.” I scooted a few more inches away. “No, I’m just genuinely not in the mood.” Sebastian looked down, lost in thought. After a long silence, he spoke again. “I understand. Rest well.” He stood up, left the bed, and walked back to his own room. 5 We’d had separate bedrooms for all seven years of our marriage. He’d insisted that a couple needed their own private space. We slept in our own rooms most of the time, only sharing a bed—and intimacy—twice a month. Back then, I was too shy and too overjoyed to be married to him to question it. I found the arrangement confusing and a little sad, but I agreed. Now, I was profoundly grateful he wouldn’t be spending the night in my bed. … The next day was Sunday, which meant the mandatory visit to Sebastian’s parents, the Holts. Before I even opened the door, I heard loud, familiar laughter. Corey was there. It wasn’t a surprise, but sometimes I had to admire her sheer, exhausting stamina. The Holts and the Reeses were next-door neighbors, and my mother-in-law, Martha, had always adored Corey. She’d even tried to convince Seb’s grandfather to break off the engagement with me years ago. Now, my failure to produce a grandchild—despite Seb being the one who wanted to wait—made me even more of an unsatisfactory daughter-in-law in her eyes. “Jules, why don’t you go to the kitchen and make Corey a hangover remedy?” Martha didn’t wait for me to put my purse down before giving orders. She then turned to pat Corey affectionately. “You silly girl, you drank last night. You should be resting, but you always insist on coming to see me.” Corey hooked her arm through Martha’s. “You’re my godmother, Mom. A daughter seeing her mother—it’s only natural!” Sebastian, thinking I was heading to the kitchen, caught my hand. He looked at his mother. “Let the housekeeper do it, Mom. Jules isn’t feeling well.” Martha shot me a dismissive glance. “Didn’t you tell me Jules makes the best soup?” She turned back to Seb. “If she’s not well, she should stay home and rest. Who does she expect to wait on her here?” I retrieved my phone from the entryway table and, right in front of Sebastian, answered a reminder I’d set. “Hello? Oh, really? My second cousin’s wife’s sister-in-law is having the baby shower moved up? Right, I’m on my way.” I smoothly tucked the phone into my handbag. “So sorry, everyone. Something unavoidable has come up. I have to leave.” I ignored Martha’s wide-eyed, stunned face, turned on my heel, and slammed the door behind me. 6 I hadn’t taken three steps before my arm was wrenched back. “Juliet! What is this nonsense?” Sebastian’s face was dark with fury, his voice sharp with accusation. “I told you not to make the soup. Mother’s old, she has her moods—can’t you just swallow your pride for one morning?” Then, his voice softened slightly. “Stop being dramatic about Corey. You’re my wife. You know you’re the one that matters.” “She’s just part of the furniture here. She grew up in this house.” “If you really can’t stand being around her, I’ll tell her to try to avoid Sundays.” “Now, be a good girl and come back inside. Apologize to Mom…” I yanked my arm away, completely fed up. “I don’t want to see anyone. That includes you and your mother.” I had actually come here today hoping to sit them down and discuss the divorce calmly. But they couldn’t help themselves—they jumped at the chance to irritate me. I used to be vibrant, spirited, even a little wild. But because I fell for Sebastian, I gradually toned down my personality. Sebastian was always the center of attention—good family, good reputation, and devastatingly handsome. And I was just a wealthy heiress who had only ever cared about fun. I thought a perfect man like Sebastian would, like in a novel, fall in love with me after the marriage, and we would build an ideal life. But I had spent seven years trying, and I hadn’t stirred an ounce of genuine emotion in him. In his eyes, his career was paramount, and his schedule was sacred. Marriage was just a task to be completed. He made me trade my extravagant designer dresses for tasteful, demure attire. He insisted I maintain proper decorum at all times, a suitable corporate wife accompanying him to galas. I was forbidden from dropping by his office unannounced. If I wanted to schedule a date, I had to clear it with his executive assistant a week in advance. Yet, he allowed Corey free access to his life, whenever and wherever. I fought and cried about it for the first few years… But he would always tell me that his dynamic with Corey had always been this way; it was his life, and he was accustomed to it. I was the newcomer, and I had to conform to his existing lifestyle. I stared blankly at the wedding band on my finger. Preston’s new girlfriend had quietly offered me advice yesterday. She told me a woman should know when she’s lucky. If she could marry into that kind of wealth, she wouldn’t care if her husband had one mistress or five. Money, status, and no demanding husband to tend to—what a good deal, she’d said. I understood her choice. But I thanked her for the kind guidance without agreeing. If I were penniless, having to rely on Sebastian would be one thing. But I was beautiful, rich, and in the prime of my life. Why should I waste it on a man like him? Besides, intimacy only twice a month… I was a woman with normal needs, not a nun. I thought of the texts my best friend occasionally sent me—photos of chiseled, tanned European guys… That girl lives well. 7 Sebastian didn’t want a divorce. My lawyer said that without concrete evidence of fault from the husband, a contested divorce would be brutal. The Holt family’s legal team was formidable. If I insisted on a court battle, I’d be drawn and quartered publicly. Frowning in frustration, I scrolled through my phone. I saw a new, trending post on a gossip forum (the kind dedicated to the city’s elite). [Mr. H is my childhood sweetheart. He’s unhappy with his arranged wife and hasn’t been happy for years, but he’s always carried a torch for me. Should I fight to get him back?] Most of the comments were strongly against the poster, many calling her a homewrecker. The poster hit back at her critics: “His wife is the interloper! If it wasn’t for her, we would have been together years ago.” The replies below were immediate and scathing: “So you and Mr. H never actually dated…” “If you were childhood sweethearts, why weren’t you together before the wife arrived? Sounds like you’re delusional.” “Teens today are precocious. If he liked you, he would have asked you out in high school or college. You’re talking about ‘fighting to get him back’… that’s called breaking up a marriage.” I raised an eyebrow at the poster’s ID: ItsAlwaysCoreyT. Oh, good heavens. She’s not even trying to hide it. A grin spread across my face. I opened the keyboard and typed quickly. “True love is never wrong! Go for it, Poster!” “Just sleep with him, force his hand, get pregnant! He won’t have a choice but to divorce after that.” The post was instantly liked by the original poster. The next comment below mine was furious: “I hope your husband gets forced into marriage by a desperate homewrecker too.” I let out a soft laugh at that. I typed back: “I wish you good fortune on your suggestion.” Before closing the page, I swiftly deleted all my comments. No trace left behind. 8 I ignored Sebastian for a week, and he didn’t seem to have any noticeable reaction. He went to work on time and came home on time. As long as I stayed in my bedroom, I didn’t have to see him. This morning, however, he was home, waiting for me to come down for breakfast. “It’s the seven-year anniversary of our college graduation this weekend. Preston is organizing a reunion.” “Corey… they want to use our Lakefront Estate. He said we could set off fireworks there.” I sat across from him, slowly eating my eggs. “Fine by me. It’s your house. Do what you like.” Sebastian frowned. “It’s our house, Jules.” I waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever.” “I won’t be attending, though. It sounds loud.” Sebastian, unusually, didn’t insist I accompany him. He paused for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Then rest up.” I watched him leave, his face unperturbed. I laughed coldly to myself. The seven-year anniversary of his college graduation… He didn’t remember it was also the seven-year anniversary of our wedding. Last year, I gave him the silent treatment for a month because he forgot the date. He never even realized I was upset. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t care. … By Sunday, Corey was the most excited person. She posted ten updates on social media. A crowd was outside the estate, grilling and playing games. Her dress caught my eye—it looked strangely familiar. I sent a photo to my best friend, who responded with a long voice message chain. “That’s the dress Seb had custom-made for you last year, remember?” “He said it was to make up for forgetting your six-year anniversary. You sent me photos of the fitting!” “That bastard. Did he give her your dress?” “Or does he just not remember giving you anything at all?” “Wait, isn’t today your wedding anniversary? I remember that. Did he forget again?!” “Jesus Christ…” I quickly reassured her. “It’s fine, it’s a non-issue.” “I was hoping he’d forget.” Corey’s blatant provocation meant she was confident. She felt she had him. I just had to wait for her good news. 9 I waited until 1:00 AM. The house was quiet in the middle of the night. I walked to Sebastian’s room and knocked. No answer. Not coming home tonight. I dressed quickly and drove out. It took only twenty minutes to reach the Lakefront Estate. I opened the door. The air inside reeked of stale liquor. A few bodies were sprawled awkwardly on the couches. I slapped the switch for the largest chandelier. The room instantly flooded with harsh light. Preston rubbed his eyes, groaning. “Who the hell turned on the lights…” When he saw me, he froze. “Jules? Wife? It’s the middle of the night—what are you doing here?” I didn’t answer, slowly walking into the room, kicking lightly at the sleeping bodies as I went. “Are you looking for Seb?” I glanced sidelong at him. “Who else would I be looking for? You?” He shut up instantly. Preston got up and shuffled over to me, forcing a strained smile. “Seb had too much to drink today. He’s sleeping upstairs.” “It’s late, Jules. Maybe you should head back and get some sleep.” I ignored him. Once all the stragglers in the living room were awake, I started toward the stairs. Before leaving, I had checked my phone. Corey had posted a new reply to her forum thread: “He’s in my bed right now. I’m about to get him back.” What they didn’t know was that I had installed a comprehensive, discreet camera system in this house when it was first renovated. I had watched Corey slip something into Sebastian’s drink, then, while everyone was distracted, guide his limp body upstairs. I saw everything on the remote feed. I stopped outside the master bedroom. The crowd downstairs, sensing the change in atmosphere, crept up behind me. Preston tried to lighten the mood as he walked next to me. “Jules, you’re acting like this is a sting operation, haha…” “You know how good Seb’s character is. And we’re all here. Stop being suspicious—it’s bad for a marriage, you know…” He didn’t finish the sentence. I pulled out my key card and opened the door. The sight inside made him instantly forget what he was saying.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390427”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The New Year’s Day dinner was loud, crowded, and already too boozy. My mother, bless her heart, chose that moment—right between the turkey and the pie—to become utterly weepy. She grabbed my wife, Vanessa, the CEO of the local manufacturing plant, by the hand, her eyes swimming. “Vanessa, honey, thank you. Thank you for making an exception and hiring my oldest boy as the Chief Engineer.” “Felix never finished high school; jobs are so hard for him. It’s a miracle you—his sister-in-law—helped him out.” “I promise, he’ll pay you back…” I smoothly took the glass of wine from her hand. “Mom, easy on the Merlot. Vanessa’s infamous for being ruthless and playing by the book. She even fired me years ago just to avoid any hint of nepotism. No way she’d bend the rules for Felix.” My mother looked genuinely confused. “You don’t know? Vanessa said… you agreed to it.” I froze. I turned my head, staring at Vanessa. She immediately looked away. “Nolan, you know how hard it is out there for Felix with his background. I just felt a pang of pity. He needed a break. But you’re different. You have me. A job isn’t the most important thing when you’re married to the CEO.” Her voice was smooth, a practiced balm. “Besides, I’ve always provided for you. It’s my way of… making amends, I suppose.” I let out a laugh that tasted like tears. Good. That train ticket, the one tucked away for three years, inviting me south to a fresh start, could finally stop being a secret. … A sharp clink and the wine glass hit the floor, shattering the silence. Mom instantly sobered up. “Did… did I say something wrong?” A bitter, scalding flush of tears finally broke free. I swung around, fixing my gaze on the man sitting rigidly opposite me, as agonizing memories roared through my mind. Vanessa was instantly on high alert, physically stepping in front of Felix. “Nolan, this is ancient history. On New Year’s, you really have to ruin the night for the whole family?” I stared coldly at both of them. “So, you admit it?” The room was dead silent. No one answered. Rage surged. I reached up, tore off the pendant I’d cherished for a decade, and hurled it out the window. “Nolan, are you insane? Do you know how expensive that was?” Vanessa’s voice was a furious crack in the quiet room. I turned back, my eyes moving past her angry face to settle on Felix, who was shrinking behind her. He was wearing a brand-new leather jacket—crisp, expensive, and a perfect fit. Just last month, when Vanessa went to the city for a conference, she’d told me she was too busy to pick up anything for me. Now I knew where her attention had gone. “Expensive?” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Is it more expensive than my entire future, CEO Vanessa?” Vanessa’s face changed. She walked toward me. “Stop causing a scene. We can talk about this later.” “We’ll talk now!” I roared, losing all control. “On New Year’s? Do you need to be so dramatic?” Her tone was infuriatingly level. “Dramatic? How did I lose my job, Vanessa?” I hammered the table. “You told me if I got promoted, people would call it nepotism. You fired me yourself, in front of everyone, accusing me of trying to get in through the back door!” “And now you’re telling me you did it all just so Felix could walk into my spot and get the Chief Engineer title?” “I waited ten years for a shot at the city office. Ten years! And you wiped it all out with a single lie!” “SLAP!” A sharp sting against my cheek. Vanessa’s chest was heaving, her finger trembling as she pointed at me. “On a holiday, you want to dredge up old resentment?” Relatives rushed over to grab her arms. “Woah, easy there, Vanessa! It’s the holiday, talk it out, don’t hit him.” Just then, Felix suddenly burst into tears, dramatically throwing himself onto his knees in front of me. “Nolan, please, stop arguing with Vanessa. It’s all my fault! Only mine!” “I’ll quit! I’ll give up the job! I’d rather starve or beg in the street than cause a rift between you two! If you’re still not satisfied, I’ll just end it!” He bolted for the door. Vanessa grabbed him. “What are you doing?” The crowd rushed to restrain him. “Felix, hold on, talk it out…” Vanessa took a deep, shaky breath, then glared at me, her eyes spitting fire. “Look what you’ve done to Felix!” “Don’t you know everything I did was for you? If Felix hadn’t dropped out of school and handed over his tuition money, would you even have a degree today? I’m just repaying a debt! Can you stop being so selfish for once?” I stood frozen. The truth was, Felix had skipped school constantly, chasing gambling debts. He’d been beaten half to death and come home stealing Mom and Dad’s money. They were the ones who finally said he was hopeless and told me to go to college. I was the one who lost everything, yet I was the one being told to be reasonable? “My job is gone,” I whispered. “You fired me, gave my life to him, and you claim it was for my own good?” I slammed my fist onto the table, blood immediately welling up between my knuckles. The relatives clamored, and even my mother got up, speaking in that worn-out, long-suffering tone. “The past is the past, Nolan. Why make a scene? Just apologize to Vanessa. Your brother had it rough, too. It’s right that Vanessa helped him. Can’t you be supportive of your wife? She has it hard!” Vanessa lowered her head, a look of contrived remorse flashing across her face as she reached for my hand. But Felix was faster. He shoved himself between us, grabbing my bleeding hand. His eyes were wild. “Little brother, don’t be like this. It’s all my fault. I’m a drain on everyone.” “I’m a curse on this world. Just let me die! Don’t fight with Vanessa; she only tried to compensate me, she meant well—” He spun around, grabbed a sharp shard of broken porcelain from the table, and lunged it toward his neck. “It’s my fault! I’ll pay you with my life!” Vanessa screamed and threw herself forward, wrapping him in a desperate embrace. “Felix!” she sobbed. “Why are you taking the blame? If he hadn’t stolen your place all those years ago, you would be the one standing by my side!” The naked truth, a tidal wave of genuine feeling, crashed over the silent room. Vanessa shoved me out the front door. “Felix is trying to kill himself because of you! Are you going to stay here and torment him further?” The cold wind whipped against my face, turning the wound in my heart into a burning scar. I heard Felix’s hysterical crying behind the closed door. “It’s my fault! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be fighting. I’m just a burden. Let me die!” Then, Vanessa’s voice—a tenderness I had never once heard directed at me—cut through the noise. “Don’t talk about dying. You are the man I love most. Don’t speak such awful things.” “I only recognize you as my husband.” I was hit by a shockwave, yet I started to laugh. Oh. I was the interloper. A torrent of memories flooded my mind. I was twenty-two, and the air was full of fireworks as Vanessa and I married. I was broke, but she was the factory’s rising star. She chose me anyway. “The men who want to marry me only want my money. But I know you want the man, Nolan. I’m only willing to be tied down by you.” Later, when she became CEO, everyone saw us as the golden couple. I was about to transfer to the city, my career peaking. Then she shot down my transfer application. “Nolan, the factory whispers are getting loud. People say I favor you. If you get promoted here, I’ll lose all authority.” “For our family, make a sacrifice. Don’t quit; I’ll fire you. You can collect a severance package.” I was too stunned to argue. She was the CEO, and her signature was law. No one else would touch me. Afterward, she held me, her eyes swimming with remorse. “I’m so sorry, Nolan… but this factory is my life’s work. I can’t let our marriage ruin my reputation. I’ll find you another job. A better one.” I chose to understand, seeing her self-reproach. But she never found me a job. Worse, she made calls, warning off any company that did business with the plant. I was forced into early retirement, spending my days keeping house, cooking, and doing her laundry. I thought I was sacrificing for our future. I realize now: my destroyed career was just to clear a space for Felix. I looked at my hand, the wound still bleeding. I wished I had a scalpel right now. I’d carve open Vanessa’s chest and see what was inside—was it stone, or was it iron? The hysterical crying inside had softened into gentle laughter. I shivered, whether from cold or anger, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t turn back. I dragged my exhausted body into the street, walking aimlessly. Passing under a highway overpass, a couple of thugs surrounded me. “Look at the fancy coat. Must be a rich boy. Time to hand over some holiday cash.” I frowned. “What do you think you’re doing? My wife is the CEO of the county plant! You want to rob me? I’ll have you locked up.” “Who cares about the CEO? God himself couldn’t help you now!” They jumped me. A blinding flash of pain, and I was curled on the ground, powerless. I tasted copper. I reached for my tie to wipe the blood from my mouth. One of them raised his foot, aiming for my head. I shielded myself, bracing for impact. Then a blur of motion. A few sickening thwacks, and the thugs were groaning on the ground. I looked up, a spark of warmth igniting in my chest. “Vanessa…” She stood over me, looking down with a mixture of disgust and contempt. “Well, Nolan. You talk about a future and a career, but here you are, hanging out with bums and lowlifes?” “I was blind. I never saw what a useless, pathetic waste of space you were.” A bitter taste rose in my throat, and before I could deny it, she grabbed my wrist. “Enough. Get up and come home. Do you have any idea how worried Felix is?” Back home, Felix sat innocently in the corner chair. Vanessa pulled a document from her pocket and slapped it onto my chest. “Sign this. After the holidays, you won’t need to show up at the plant anymore.” It was a resignation form. “What… is this?” She frowned, impatient. “I’ve secured Felix’s position. He can’t stay in that dumpy old house. I’m arranging for him to replace you, so I can officially apply for one of the larger factory houses.” She saw my expression and added, softer, “When Felix is settled, this house will be a testament to your contribution. A form of compensation.” Ten years of marriage, ten years as her subordinate, ten years in a tiny shack. I’d asked for a bigger place when I was fired. She said, as CEO, she had to consider the employees first and couldn’t be seen taking a bigger house for her husband. Now, the status I’d never attained was easily handed to Felix. My world collapsed, finally. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said, quietly. She didn’t answer right away. She was too busy nuzzling into Felix. “Red, you’re the best,” Felix murmured. Vanessa stroked his hair, a tender, chastising look on her face. “Stop being silly with me.” Watching their sickening intimacy, and contrasting it with her coldness toward my despair, I was done. I walked to my room, only wanting the box of train tickets. Vanessa looked up, instantly alert. “What are you looking for?” “Are you trying to hide the necessary paperwork so Felix can’t get the job?” She rushed over, pulled the file from the cupboard, and clutched it. “Give it up! I promised Felix I wouldn’t let him suffer!” Seeing her zeal, a dull ache started in my chest. There was no point hiding it anymore. “I’m not looking for files. I’m getting my train tickets.” She laughed out loud. “Tickets? Are you kidding? You think a weak threat to leave is going to scare me?” “Where are you going to go without me?” Yes, where could I go? She’d taken my job. But staying felt like a fate too brutal. I laughed through my tears, my voice raspy. “Vanessa, we are getting a divorce.” She paused, a genuine look of surprise on her face. “You… you know?” Her expression turned jubilant. “I was planning to hold a small wedding for Felix and me during the holidays. But since you’re still my legal husband, I couldn’t make a big show of it.” “Since you agree to divorce, that simplifies things.” She took my hand, a rare gesture of warmth. “Don’t worry, it’ll just be a temporary legal formality. If you agree to sign the papers, I can give Felix the grand wedding he deserves. After he’s settled, we can get back together. How does that sound?” She spoke casually, as if asking me to pick up milk. My heart was bleeding. “No need,” I told her. “I only want the divorce. I won’t be coming back.” She was too high on the excitement to notice. “Don’t be silly. I promised I’d be with you forever.” “Even if we divorce, it’s temporary. In my heart, you’ll always be my only husband.” I was disgusted. I wasn’t interested in being a placeholder. She frowned impatiently. “Since you agree, you must come to the wedding tomorrow—it’s at the biggest hall in the county. Felix and I will be there.” “Oh, and the money you had saved with me? I’ve used it. It’s for the wedding. Felix deserves a good ceremony so no one looks down on him.” I froze. She then took the pendant I’d thrown out earlier, retrieved by one of the relatives. “This is the necklace you threw. Take it. Don’t lose it again.” I took it in silence. She gave me a satisfied smile. The next day, after signing the divorce papers, I walked straight out into the freezing storm. Vanessa felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of emptiness, a crucial piece ripped from her core. She wanted to chase me, but Felix called out to her. The ceremony was about to begin. She stopped. That afternoon, firecrackers popped, and bells chimed. Friends and family congratulated Vanessa on her “new life.” And I was on the southbound train. Later, back at home, she and Felix celebrated. She glanced at the pendant on the coffee table, and a deep, cold dread settled in her stomach. The image of Nolan’s face, cold and final when he said he wouldn’t remarry, flashed into her mind. She felt heavy, unable to breathe. She threw open a window. Toot— A whistling sound, the steam from the old green train, pierced the air. She looked at the metal box on the bedside table. It was empty. The tickets were gone. She realized everything at once and ran to the bedroom. “Nolan!” “Nolan?” She screamed my name, but only silence answered. “What’s wrong?” Felix looked up at her from the couch. “Nolan… Nolan is gone.” Felix’s eyes grew wide, a sudden flicker of concern. “He didn’t come to the wedding today. I knew he was still angry at me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390426”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The blizzard had sealed us in and cut the power for four days, and the indoor temperature had dropped below zero. My five-year-old daughter, Maisie, was shivering in my arms, wearing only a thin sweater. My husband, Gary Miller, was outside. He had taken the last of our emergency heating briquettes and arranged them in a giant heart shape in the snow. He did it because the woman living next door had texted him, saying she wished she could see some fireworks. He lit the briquettes. The firelight reflected, warm and satisfied, on his face. He waved enthusiastically toward the woman’s second-story window. I pulled my gaze back and touched Maisie’s forehead. It was already burning up. Gary burst through the door, tracking snow. He was beaming as he told me, “She smiled, Audra. Sherry actually smiled.” He added, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “We have parkas and blankets. We’ll tough it out.” I held my now semiconscious daughter closer and pushed away the hand he reached out to me. “Get out of my way.” He was right. From this moment on, I wasn’t going to “tough it out” anymore. I was going to take my daughter to a spring he would never be a part of. … Gary Miller pushed open the door, letting in a gust of frigid air and the faint, cloying scent of gardenia, his signature cologne. I tightened my hold on five-year-old Maisie. She was tucked deep into a sleeping bag, and her breath misted in the cold air. The power had been out for two days. Our only remaining heat source was the few boxes of coal briquettes stored in the utility closet. Gary walked straight to the closet, hauled out two full boxes, and started for the door. I slid off the bed and blocked his path, my eyes locked on the boxes. “What are you doing? That is the last of the fuel.” He looked at me with an expression of weary martyrdom. “Sherry Kinsley lives next door. She’s alone, the power’s out, and she’s already complaining about the cold. She’s delicate. What if she freezes? Neighbors help neighbors, Audra.” I grabbed the edge of a cardboard box. “Maisie has a fever. The temperature in this house is dropping fast.” I kept my voice low, but it vibrated with cold fury. “If you give her the coal, how are we supposed to survive? Are you trying to let your own wife and daughter freeze to death?” Gary easily yanked the boxes free. My hand scraped against the rough cardboard. I stumbled backward, hitting the coat rack. He smoothed the collar of his thermal shirt, giving me a quick, disdainful glance. “Audra Price, when did you become so selfish? We have down coats and blankets. We can tough this out. Sherry doesn’t even have proper winter gear.” He paused, his lip curling. “You can’t just think about yourself. Be generous. Don’t make me think you’re nothing but a bitter nag.” The front door slammed shut, letting a blast of wind and snow into the hall. I scrambled up and pressed my face to the windowpane, looking through the ice-frosted glass. In the backyard, Gary dumped the boxes of fuel onto the snow, meticulously arranging the black briquettes into a massive heart shape. He pulled out a lighter and ignited them. Flames shot up, bathing his face in an unnatural, satisfied red glow. He tilted his head back, waving up toward the second-floor window next door, where a single candlelight flickered. The curtain moved. A silhouette appeared—a slender figure in what looked like a thin slip dress, holding a wineglass. Gary pulled out his phone and sent a voice message. I could hear the tinny sound through the wall. “Sherry, honey, this fire might not be as pretty as fireworks, but it’ll warm your little heart. See how the flame looks exactly like my heart for you?” I turned away. Maisie whimpered in the sleeping bag. Her forehead was like a furnace. I picked up the old tablet, hoping to put on a show to distract her, but a message popped up: “Subscription Expired.” Gary came in humming, brushing snow off his coat. He was sending another voice message as he kicked off his boots. “Alright, alright, stop pouting. I already renewed your Platinum VIP account. Watch whatever you want. Don’t worry about data, I put you on an unlimited plan.” I shoved the tablet at him. “Maisie wants to watch Paw Patrol. Can you renew the account for the house?” Gary pushed my hand away. “Renew it? Are you kidding? We have no cash to spare right now. Besides, too much screen time is bad for a kid’s eyes. It’s good the power’s out; maybe she’ll break the habit.” I stared into his eyes. “You just spent hundreds of dollars on a Platinum VIP account for Sherry Kinsley.” Gary’s face hardened. He quickly locked his phone and jammed it into his coat pocket. “Were you spying on my phone? Audra, where is the basic trust between a husband and wife? Don’t I deserve privacy?” I pointed to the bedroom. “Maisie’s fever is spiking at 102 degrees. Go get the Motrin. It’s on the top shelf of the utility closet.” Gary shook his head, already turning for the door. “It’s just a fever. Bundle her up; she’ll sweat it out. Stop being so dramatic. Sherry’s water pipes might have burst. I need to go help her fix them.” He snatched his toolbox. “She’s a single woman living alone. If I don’t help her, who will? Can’t you be reasonable for once?” He charged out into the storm. I held the limp Maisie in my arms, listening to the faint sound of laughter drifting over from the next house. Around 3 AM, I checked my phone and saw a new post on Sherry’s social media feed. The photo showed two shadows cozied up in front of a blazing hearth. The caption read: “Snowy night, warm company. So glad to have you.” The fuel in that hearth was the last of the coal from my house. I put the phone down and began systematically searching the house, packing every usable supply into my old hiking backpacks. The next morning, Gary returned, a tell-tale hickey visible on his neck. He collapsed onto the sofa. “Honey, do we have any food? I’m starving.” He groaned, rubbing his back. “I was up all night fixing pipes. My back is killing me. Make me a big bowl of hot soup noodles. Put two eggs in it.” I was in the kitchen, carefully feeding warm water to Maisie. I glanced at him. The pot on the stove held a small amount of thin rice porridge—all that was left, and it was reserved for Maisie. I picked up the pot. In front of him, I slowly, deliberately poured the entire contents into the trash can. Gary shot upright. “Are you insane?! That’s food! Do you have any idea what the situation is outside? And you just dump it? Are you sick in the head?” I tossed the empty pot into the sink. “I’d feed it to the dog before I gave it to you.” Gary pointed a shaky finger at me. “Audra Price, what the hell is your problem? I just went to help a neighbor fix a leaky pipe! Why are you being so passive-aggressive? Your heart is the size of a pinprick! Why can’t you be understanding, like Sherry?” I turned toward a cabinet, searching for a piece of hidden chocolate Maisie had stashed months ago. Gary spotted it, snatched the candy bar from my hand, and shoved it into his pocket. “This is mine. Sherry has low blood sugar; she woke up dizzy this morning. She needs this for an emergency boost.” I reached out to grab it back. “That’s for Maisie! She hasn’t eaten anything solid in a day!” Gary shoved me hard. I stumbled and hit the wall. He protected his pocket. “Kids shouldn’t eat too much candy, it ruins their teeth! Sherry needs this for survival!” He paused, straightening his coat. “Besides, I’m just cultivating a good relationship with her. She can help us out later if we need it.” He hurried toward the neighbor’s house. Through the window, I saw Sherry standing at the second-floor sill, wearing my expensive, delicate lace thermal undershirt. The neckline was pulled low. She bent over to smile at him, the garment hanging loosely on her. Gary reached out, pinching her waist through the windowpane, and they shared a long, private smile. Thirty minutes later, Gary was back. I pointed to his phone, which he’d left charging on the nightstand. “Sherry is wearing my clothes.” Gary’s eyes flickered. “Oh. Her clothes got wet, she didn’t have a spare. I just lent her a set for an emergency. You have so many clothes, it’s not like you’ll miss one thermal set.” He scoffed. “Look at you. Why is your mind always in the gutter? She borrowed a shirt, and you’re already spinning a sordid story. You are utterly irrational.” I didn’t argue further. I walked into the bedroom. Seeing my silence, Gary just huffed. “That’s right. It’s normal for a man to have a little fun. As long as you behave and stop being so suspicious, this house is still yours.” He went into the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on. I picked up his phone, which was plugged in on the nightstand. I typed in Sherry’s birthday as the password. I opened his banking app and transferred every liquid cent from his primary account. Then, I opened his insurance folder and purchased a massive accidental death and dismemberment policy, listing Maisie as the sole beneficiary. I deleted the confirmation texts and placed the phone back on the nightstand. From under the bed, I dragged out a signal booster. The screen flickered a few times and finally connected to a faint satellite signal. I sent my coordinates and a short message to a former contact: “Coordinates confirmed. Awaiting extraction.” The reply came back instantly: “Received. Blizzard too heavy for rotary. ETA: Three days.” Gary emerged from the bathroom, toweling his hair. He saw me sitting on the edge of the bed. “Honey, make a pot roast tonight, okay? Sherry said she’s craving home cooking. I’ll take a plate over to her.” I avoided his hand and gave him a faint, chillingly calm smile. “Of course. I’ll start preparing right now.” Gary paused, then grinned, relieved. “That’s my girl. A woman who knows how to be supportive. Don’t worry, I’ll be nicer to you now. As long as you don’t make a fuss.” I touched the small folding knife concealed in my pocket. Deep in the night, Maisie began to convulse beneath the blanket. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes rolled back, and a horrible rattling sound came from her throat. I frantically searched the medical kit, finding only half a bottle of liquid Motrin. As I struggled to twist the cap off, Gary’s phone chirped. It was a voice message from Sherry, her voice laced with a dramatic sniffle. “Gary, my head hurts so much. I think I’m coming down with something.” Gary, who had been playing a video game, instantly bolted up. He lunged across the bed and snatched at the medicine bottle in my hand. “Give it to me! Sherry isn’t feeling well!” I held the bottle in a death grip. “Maisie is having a seizure! This is life-saving medicine!” My voice was a desperate hiss. “Sherry only has a headache! Maisie could die! Are you even human? She’s your daughter!” He brutally wrenched my fingers apart. “Kids get fevers all the time! She’ll shake it off!” He was shouting now. “Sherry is delicate! What if she gets a high fever and damages her brain? Can you pay for that? Give me the damn medicine!” In the struggle, his elbow slammed into my cheekbone. Smash. The bottle flew from my hand, shattering against the stone floor. The pink liquid mixed with shards of glass, splattering everywhere. The silence was broken only by Maisie’s shallow, ragged gasps. Gary froze, then his face went purple with rage. He hauled back and slapped me across the face. “You crazy bitch! If neither of us can have it, then no one can!” He didn’t even glance down at his daughter. “You couldn’t even handle this one simple task! You ruined Sherry’s medicine! You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” He shoved the door open. “God, you’re toxic! I’m going to check on Sherry. You stay here and reflect on what you’ve done!” The door slammed. I threw myself over Maisie. I rushed to the yard, scooped a basin full of snow, mixed it with what little cold water was left in the pitcher, and created a slush bath. I soaked a towel and began relentlessly wiping Maisie’s forehead, armpits, and the palms of her hands. The water was icy, and my hands quickly swelled and reddened, but I didn’t dare stop. By three in the morning, Maisie’s temperature finally dropped, and the convulsions ceased. A video call came in. It was Gary’s mother, Maureen. On the screen, Gary sat beside her, peeling an apple. Maureen glared at me from the screen. “I heard you wouldn’t give that nice Sherry woman the medicine she needed?” Her voice was harsh and self-righteous. “Audra, you need to have foresight. Miss Kinsley’s family owns factories! They have money!” She leaned closer to the phone. “Gary is at a critical point in his career! He needs people like her to back him up. What do you do besides raise a child? You’re useless! Don’t get in Gary’s way!” She gave me a severe look. “If you take care of Miss Kinsley, you’ll be rewarded. If you cross her, you’ll be out of the Miller family!” Gary took a bite of the apple. “Mom’s right. Sherry can elevate my career. Just be a good wife, and your place as the main one is secure.” He smiled mockingly. “I won’t be home tonight. Sherry was upset and needs company.” I stared at the mother and son on the screen. I ended the video call and circled the next day’s date on the kitchen calendar. That was the final confirmed date for my extraction. I looked at Maisie sleeping peacefully in my arms and kissed her forehead. “Just a little longer, baby.” The fifth day. The blizzard had passed, but the temperature had plunged even lower. Early in the morning, the front door was kicked open. Gary supported Sherry, who walked in, looking rosy-cheeked and wearing the down parka he’d obviously taken from my closet. She pinched her nose. “Gary, what is that smell? It’s awful in here.” Gary gave a weak, appeasing laugh. “That’ll be my wife, the sour-faced hag. She hasn’t bathed in days. I’ll make her scrub up later.” He looked at me, his face turning cold. “The heating pipe next door burst completely. It’s uninhabitable. Sherry will be staying here from now on. Clear out the master bedroom. Change the sheets, she likes things spotless.” He threw me a blanket. “Take Maisie to the utility closet. It has no windows, so it will hold heat better. You can stay there.” Sherry walked over to the sofa and picked up Maisie’s favorite bunny stuffed animal. “Oh, this is disgusting. So many germs.” With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the bunny straight into the cold, empty fireplace. “No!” I lunged forward, but Gary grabbed my arm. Flames quickly consumed the rabbit. Maisie cried and tried to fight past Gary to save it, but he kicked her legs out of the way. “Stop crying! It’s better this way! Out with the old, in with the new!” He looked at Sherry. “Sherry is doing this for your health, you ungrateful child. You might have gotten a bacterial infection.” I stared at the ashes in the hearth. I looked up at Gary. “You’re absolutely right. Out with the old, in with the new.” Gary frowned at my tone. “Why are you smiling? Go make dinner! Sherry is hungry. Get out the best food we have. I’m going to have a couple of drinks tonight.” I nodded. “Fine. I’ll get ready. I’ll make you both a feast tonight.” I went to the kitchen and gathered the last of the preserved meats, canned goods, and dry provisions. Into the bottle of expensive red wine, I crushed ten sleeping pills. Ground to a fine powder, and shaken well. At dinner, Gary’s cheeks were flushed. Under the table, one hand rested intimately on Sherry’s thigh. “See, Audra? This is perfect. You can handle the cooking and cleaning, and Sherry can handle my social engagements and business networking.” He grinned. “The three of us, happy and successful. How perfect is that?” Sherry leaned into his embrace and smiled a saccharine smile at me. “Thanks for doing all the hard work, older sister. I’ll make sure Gary takes good care of you.” I refilled their glasses. “Drink up. It’s cold outside. You need to keep warm.” I watched them drink glass after glass until they finally slumped, unconscious, over the table. The smile instantly dropped from my face. I dragged their limp bodies into the master bedroom and dumped them on the bed. I stripped them both naked and arranged their limbs into a compromising embrace. I took out my phone, snapped a dozen photos, and recorded a short video. Then, I began to move. I emptied the house of every staple: the last of the rice, the flour, the oil, the clothes, the blankets, the remaining medicine, the hand warmers. I went to the emergency generator shed. I unscrewed the spark plug and dropped it into the sewer drain. Without that single part, the generator would be inert. Finally, I strapped the unconscious Maisie to my chest, threw the two heavy hiking packs over my shoulders, and opened the front door. In the blizzard night, a heavily modified off-road vehicle waited at the curb. I settled Maisie into the back seat, then glanced back at the house. The light was still on in the master bedroom, where two bodies were asleep. I shut the car door. “Let’s go.” The tires ground against the packed snow and sped away. The next afternoon. Gary woke up, shivering violently. He groaned, reaching for the blanket, but his hand hit a cold, naked body. He opened his eyes, saw a nude Sherry beside him, and a flood of last night’s memories rushed in. He grinned weakly and called out, “Honey, turn the heat up. Why is it so damn cold?” No response. Silence. He crawled out of bed, finding only his own shirt covering his body. The bedding was gone. He stumbled out of the bedroom, yelling “Audra Price!” The sound echoed in the empty house. On the living room table was a single sheet of A4 paper, weighed down by the signed divorce papers. Pasted onto the paper was the picture of him and Sherry, naked and intertwined. Below the photo, written in stark red ink, were four words:

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390425”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mother was the true heiress of the Hamilton family, but my grandparents and my father only ever had eyes for my aunt, the fake heiress. Today, Mother coughed up more than just phlegm. It was clots of deep, rusty red. I secretly called Dad, but he just scoffed: “Your grandparents and I are celebrating Victoria’s birthday. We don’t have time for your mother’s theatrics.” “Tell her to stop pretending to be sick—if she’s going to die, she should just get on with it.” The call ended with a cold click. I looked back, stunned, and found Mother standing right behind me. She was swaying, her face bone-white. That night, my mother never woke up again. Later, I stood in the stark, black-and-white silence of the funeral home, and Dad finally sauntered in. His eyes narrowed in shock. “What game is Caroline playing now?” I clung to the edge of the casket, my voice thick with sobs. “Daddy, Mommy turned into a star.” 1 That evening, Mother tucked me in as usual. But in the middle of the night, I woke up to a strange, heavy smell. I rushed to the kitchen. Oh, Mommy was so clumsy. She’d left the pill bottle scattered all over the floor. I got up on my little stool and started picking up the pills, just like I saw her do sometimes. Phew, good thing Maya was here to help. I tiptoed back to the bedroom, wanting a hug and a word of praise, but I tripped over something else scattered by the bed. I knew these pills. Mother took them when the coughing fits kept her up all night. I carefully picked up the tiny white capsules, one by one, and put them back in the bottle. Mommy finally got some sleep, so I shouldn’t wake her. Maya doesn’t have kindergarten tomorrow, so I have plenty of time to wait for her to wake up. I snuggled back beside her and played with my fingers. Her phone suddenly lit up. It was Dad! I snatched it up. His voice sounded slurred, a little drunk. “Caroline, I’m not coming home tonight, so don’t wait up for me.” Then Aunt Victoria’s voice cut in, sharp and sweet. “Oh, Gray, why explain? My sister is pathetic but dutiful. When we were at the Hamiltons’, she’d nod like a trained puppy to anything our parents said, let alone your request.” I didn’t like her one bit. She stole my grandparents, and now she always tried to steal Dad. I’d overheard the grown-ups before. Aunt Victoria was the fake Hamilton heiress—her parents were the ones who swapped Mother into a life of poverty. Mother wasn’t brought back until she was twelve. Everyone said Mother was obedient, but I knew she was just desperate for a family. That’s why she was so good to Dad; it wasn’t about the corporate marriage, it was about finally having a family of her own. I spoke into the phone screen. “Shhh, Daddy. Mommy’s sleeping. You have to whisper.” Dad must have had bad reception because he only got louder. “Your mother dares to ignore my call? Maya, put the phone to her ear!” I obediently held the phone against Mother’s cheek. A faint, mocking laugh came through the speaker. “Caroline Hamilton. I know you’re listening.” “You’ve gotten smarter, I’ll give you that. Trying to use the child as leverage to drag me home? A new low, even for you.” Victoria’s cooing voice followed: “Stop it, Sis. Using the kid to guilt-trip him isn’t a good look. Gray’s staying at my place tonight; just wanted to give you a heads-up.” Mother just lay still, silently sleeping. She didn’t answer them. Dad sounded frustrated by her lack of reaction and shouted even louder. I hung up the phone. Dad was too loud. Mother was tired and needed her rest. Feeling sleepy myself, I burrowed back into her arms. Mother felt cold, like ice. It was a good thing I was warm; I could hug her tight. The next morning, the front door burst open with a crash. I quickly tucked the blankets around Mother, then ran out to see. It was Dad. I habitually held my arms out. “Daddy, hug!” He looked down at me dismissively. “No shoes? Don’t you know you’ll catch a cold? Where’s your mother?” I pointed at the bedroom door. “Mommy’s sleeping!” Dad frowned and strode toward the room. 2 He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Caroline, it’s noon. Are you going to get up or not?” Mother was still lying on her side, only the dark, glossy back of her head visible. Dad gave a short, light laugh, trying to keep his temper. He spoke in her direction: “Caroline, are you jealous again?” I looked up. Dad had the faintest smirk on his face. He always seemed to enjoy seeing Mother miserable over him. “I told you, this was just a family merger. Don’t take it too personally.” “I’ll do what I want, and I’ll sleep with whomever I choose. You have absolutely no right to question me.” One second. Two seconds. The room remained silent. Mother didn’t cry tearfully, didn’t beg him to come back, as she usually did. Dad’s frown deepened. He took a few steps closer. “There’s a limit to your dramatics. I’m talking to you, didn’t you—” His phone rang, cutting him off. It was Aunt Victoria’s tearful voice: “Gray! I drank too much last night, and my head is killing me. Can you come stay with me? I’m scared to be alone…” Dad’s face instantly softened. He spoke to her in a soothing, gentle tone—the kind of tenderness he had never once shown Mother. The last time Dr. Wells came to see Mother, he said she was sick and gave her a whole drawer full of medicine. Mother hadn’t hidden the diagnosis from Dad, but what did he say then? It was something like: “Caroline, you think putting vitamins in a prescription bottle will fool me? Do you think I’m blind?” “And what about that doctor? Why is he so concerned about you? Answer me!” Mother’s face had been as pale then as it was now. After that, Dad often didn’t come home to sleep, and he always smelled of different perfumes. It was right after that when Mother’s health rapidly declined. Dad finished his call and rushed back out to the living room without even glancing at Mother again. I ran to him, grabbing his leg. “Daddy, don’t go! Can you stay with Mommy, please…” Mother loved Dad more than anything. Maybe if he stayed, she would wake up. A flicker of conflict crossed his eyes, but he quickly yanked his foot away without mercy. Before walking out the door, he pointed to a box on the counter. “Those are the Raspberry & White Chocolate Truffles she loves. I’ve extended an olive branch; she can deal with this herself.” With that, he hurried away. I stared blankly at the box, my stomach rumbling. I opened the truffles Dad left and ate two of them quickly. Mother once told me that if you eat fast enough, the tears won’t fall. “Mommy, can you wake up, please? Maya is getting scared now…” I held a truffle up to her mouth. The powdered sugar dusted her lips, making them look even paler. But she didn’t wake up, not even by evening. The truffles were gone, and I was still hungry. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I thought it was Dad, so I rushed to open it. “Delivery. Your anniversary cake is here!” It wasn’t Dad. By the time I dragged a stool over and opened the door, the delivery man was gone, leaving only a small, elegant raspberry cake. I remembered! Mother had ordered it a few days ago. It was to celebrate her and Dad’s three-year wedding anniversary! Last week, Dad slept at home, and I lay between them, listening to them talk calmly for a rare moment. Mother had been so happy when she woke up that day. She ordered the cake and smiled, whispering to me, “Maya, he’s starting to treat me well. I might actually have a family… I have to try hard to live.” Mother had even started taking her medicine, and she coughed up less of the red stuff. But now, she was sleeping and wouldn’t talk to me. I lowered my head and rubbed my eyes. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have called Dad. I shouldn’t have let Mother hear that terrible conversation. It was all my fault. 3 Mommy must be angry with me, that’s why she’s sleeping so long. I opened the cake. “Mommy, open up. Maya will feed you.” Cream dribbled onto her face. I hastily reached out to wipe it off. But it was so strange. When I used to kiss Mother’s cheek, it was soft. Now, it was stiff. A sudden, unfamiliar panic flared in my chest. Trembling, I picked up the phone and called my grandparents. “Grandma and Grandpa, can you come see Mommy?” When Mother was hurting, she needed her own mommy and daddy to comfort her, right? Grandpa let out a heavy sigh, his voice stern. “Caroline Hamilton, what fit are you throwing now?” Grandma grabbed the phone. “Hello, sweet Maya. Tell your mother to stop this nonsense and pick up the phone.” I burst into tears. “Mommy has been sleeping for so long! Can you, can you come see her, please?” Silence hung on the line for a long moment. Finally, Grandpa’s voice returned. “Caroline Hamilton, I know you’re listening!” “I just spoke to Grayson. He says you’ve now resorted to using the child to gain attention!” “When will this stop? You always tried to steal Victoria’s things growing up, and now you have Gray. What more do we, the Hamiltons, owe you?” I cried uncontrollably. Mother never stole anything! She was the real heir; Aunt Victoria stole her parents… I wanted to call back, but the phone screen wouldn’t turn on. I ate the whole cake. The sun rose again, and finally, there was a knock on the door. It was Aunt Victoria, with Grandma and Grandpa. “Caroline Hamilton, open the door! No calls, no texts. Don’t think getting into the Sterling family makes you immune to us!” Grandpa was rapping urgently on the wood. In my memory, he was just like Dad—always impatient with Mother, but so kind to Aunt Victoria. Yet, Mother was his own flesh and blood. I opened the door. Aunt Victoria squeezed in first. “Ugh. Gray’s been gone for two days and the house is already a mess?” I kicked her leg. “Go away, bad woman! Mommy doesn’t want to see you!” Grandpa grabbed me, lifted me up, and tossed me aside. Aunt Victoria covered her nose and cautiously approached the bedroom. The moment she saw Mother, a short gasp sliced through the room. She bent down and, with a trembling finger, checked Mother’s breathing. Then, she pulled her mouth into an unbelievable, silent smirk. “Idiot.” I threw myself in front of Mother, shielding her. Grandpa heard the noise. He saw Mother on the bed and frowned deeply. “Caroline, your parents are here, and you’re still in bed? And the house stinks. You haven’t even taken out the trash. It’s unacceptable!” He started walking in. Aunt Victoria blocked him. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Dad, Sister isn’t feeling well. Let’s not disturb her rest.” Grandpa huffed but didn’t press forward. “Caroline Hamilton, you’re looking for trouble. If only you were half as sensible as Victoria!” Grandma tried to step closer to see Mother, but Aunt Victoria quickly stopped her. “Mom, don’t go in. The room might have a virus. Let Sister sleep.” Grandma looked at the back of Mother’s head and sighed. “Oh, this child. Her temper gets worse every year. Why is she deliberately trying to upset us?” Aunt Victoria chuckled nervously. She even called Dad. “Hello, Gray? Yes, I brought Mom and Dad. We checked—she’s fine. Just napping.” “The kid? She’s fine too. Don’t worry. I’ll swing by now and then to check on them.” She shot a spiteful look at me and walked out with my grandparents. I chased after them, crying out: “Grandma, Grandpa, don’t leave! Mommy hasn’t woken up yet!” As the elevator doors began to close, I grabbed the corner of Grandma’s coat. “Grandma, you’re Mother’s real mother, her family! Can’t you just look at her one time, please?” At that, her fingers twitched, and she paused. 4 But in the end, her hesitation lasted only a moment, and then she was gone. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. I didn’t understand why everyone always listened to Aunt Victoria. My grandparents would transfer Mother’s rightful shares to her because of one word from Victoria. Dad would leave Mother and me alone at a restaurant countless times because of one word from Victoria. What I hated most was that she always came just to argue with Mother. Mother would accuse her of being an interloper. Aunt Victoria would sneer that Mother was simply unlucky—that her birth parents didn’t love her, and her husband was just her leftovers. After every fight, Mother was sad for a long time. I remember wiping away her tears once and asking, in my innocent way, “Mommy, why don’t you go find your mommy?” In a child’s world, when you’re bullied, you go to your mother. Mother froze. The mist in her eyes grew thicker. I sat in her lap, dangling my feet. “Grandma and Grandpa are your mommy and daddy. Why do they like that bad aunt better?” Mother was silent for a very long time. Finally, she said, “Because, Maya, they are already her family.” But it was okay. I was Mother’s family! I sniffled and crawled back into bed beside Mother to sing her a lullaby. The night before last, she had sung to me. And through my sleepy haze, I heard her whisper, choked with tears: “Maya, no one loves Mommy. I truly… I don’t think I can keep going.” “I’m in so much pain, darling. That medicine isn’t vitamins—it’s real medicine. But your father won’t believe me.” “I’m scared to leave you alone in this world, Maya. Please don’t hate me…” I had been too sleepy then. But I wanted to tell her: How could Maya ever hate you? Maya will love you forever! That night, I finished the last of the cake and curled up in Mother’s embrace. She smelled heavy, a sweet, sickly scent, like flowers left too long in water. It must be my fault for not bathing. Mother should always smell fresh. The next morning, I woke up hungry again. Mother hadn’t eaten anything, so she must be even hungrier. Just as I was thinking about how to get food, the doorbell rang. I ran to open it. “Is that you, Daddy!” It was the maintenance man. Our neighbor, a tired woman, stood behind him, clutching her nose. “It’s this apartment! Since the middle of the night, there’s been this putrid, heavy smell. I nearly threw up!” The maintenance man saw me and knelt down. “Little one, where is your mother?” I told him Mother had been sleeping for a few days. A look of shock crossed his face. He quickly walked into the bedroom and nearly gagged. “Oh my god. Little one, where is your father?” I shook my head. “Daddy isn’t home.” The maintenance man picked up Mother’s phone, plugged it in, and called Dad. It rang a few times, unanswered. He slid his trembling finger to the emergency contacts and called my grandparents. Still no answer. The man cursed under his breath. “What kind of animals are they! Little one, does your mother have any other friends?” I thought for a moment and told him about Dr. Wells, the kind doctor who was very close to Mother. The call connected in seconds. Dr. Wells arrived quickly. He was almost shaking as he covered Mother with a white sheet. I held Mother’s hand underneath. His tears fell on my face, hotter than any tears Mother ever shed. After that, Mother was taken away in a car. I don’t know if I cried myself unconscious or fainted from hunger. When I next opened my eyes, I was in a hospital. My first reaction was to scream: “Where is Mommy? I want Mommy!” Dr. Wells’ eyes were painfully red. He took me to the black-and-white funeral home. Soon, Dad arrived. My grandparents and that awful Aunt Victoria came, too. Seeing the scene, Dad’s steps faltered, but he forced a defiant posture. “Ha. How fascinating. Caroline Hamilton, setting up this grim, theatrical spectacle just to get me to come home—it’s truly magnificent…” Seeing me, he demanded, “What game is your mother playing now!” I choked out my words. “Daddy, Mommy turned into a star.” He wouldn’t believe it. But then he was led inside and saw Mother. In that instant, all the color drained from his face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390424”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was binge-watching a show with Landon when the news about Anya Wells’s return hit. Our college alumni group chat wouldn’t stop buzzing. I glanced over at Landon, nudging his arm with a smile. “No reaction from you?” He pinched my nose playfully, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “What do you want me to do, break out the bubbly? Go easy on the drama, Sweetheart.” I supposed he was right. They had broken up six years ago, and besides, Anya was married with a child. It was ancient history. I walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. When I came back, Landon was staring blankly at his phone. My gaze instinctively dropped to my own screen. A new message had just appeared in the group: [Heard the news? Anya got divorced.] A cold, heavy stone dropped in my stomach. 1 “Landon, Landon!” The last call was laced with a tiny, involuntary whine. He snapped out of his trance and spread his arms, assuming I wanted a hug. I set the water glass down sharply on the coffee table. I didn’t move, just stood there, staring directly at him. The intensity in my eyes made him visibly uneasy. “What is it, Sweetheart?” he asked, his voice tight. “What were you thinking about just now?” Landon blinked, feigning innocence. “I was just thinking about what we should grab for brunch tomorrow.” Liar. I thought. You were thinking about Anya. I had been in love with Landon Pierce for twelve years. Every expression, every subtle shift in his gaze, was a language I was fluent in. That vacant stare—he used to have it all the time in high school when he was hopelessly pursuing Anya. A decade had passed, and he still couldn’t hide a thing. He still came undone the second her name entered the atmosphere. A dull, painful ache settled in my chest. I sulked all evening, and Landon spent the entire time trying to placate me. The phrase he repeated most often was: “She and I are a closed chapter.” But their love had been a raging inferno. Even six years later, I still had occasional nightmares about Anya walking back into his life and Landon telling me he was done. The next day, I slept until noon. He patted my backside gently and chuckled. “Time to get up, Sweetheart. The sun is practically begging you.” I rolled over, ignoring him. He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “I made your favorite—homemade French toast with all the fixings.” I had smelled the cinnamon and vanilla already. There was no sense in punishing my stomach for his sins. Landon carried me to the dining table and loaded my plate. Just as I was deciding to forgive the previous night’s lapse, his phone rang. He took the call, speaking briefly, then looked at me. “Nova, the class president is organizing a high school reunion on Saturday. Want to go?” A high school reunion. That meant Anya would be there. Before I could even hesitate, Landon had politely declined. I looked at him in surprise. He stroked my head, his eyes sparkling with a familiar, genuine tenderness. “I just remembered that Saturday is our five-year anniversary. We can’t let strangers crash our day.” My eyes pricked with tears. I almost cried, ashamed of my own vulnerability. I decided right then to reluctantly forgive his late-night staring. Over the next few days, I threw myself into planning the perfect five-year anniversary. I wrote a long, detailed list of activities. Landon looked surprised. “Sweetheart, can we possibly get all this done in one day?” But he quickly softened, giving me that indulgent smile. “Anything my Nova wants, I’m in.” But early that morning, Landon was called away by the hospital. He was one of the most gifted pediatric cardiologists at St. Jude’s Medical Center. A particularly complex case required his immediate attention. He told me to go ahead to the restaurant for lunch, promising to be there exactly on time. I waited until 1:30 PM, but he never showed. The server apologized, explaining that the lunch service was over. I left the restaurant and saw that a heavy rain had started to fall. The drops quickly soaked the bottom of my jeans. I pressed a hand to my lower abdomen, feeling a dull, persistent ache. It was probably just my period coming, but the chill instantly made the pain worse. My hand was trembling as I called Landon’s number. A woman answered. “Hello?” “I’m sorry, Dr. Pierce is busy right now. Can I take a message?” The sound of that voice sent a chilling current through me. It was Anya. “Hello? Are you still there?” she asked when I didn’t respond. A few seconds of silence passed, then she sounded surprised. “Nova? Is that Nova?” “It is.” Anya laughed lightly. “I saw the contact name was ‘Sweetheart’ and guessed it might be you.” She quickly realized her blunder and rushed to explain. “Oh, don’t misunderstand. Landon is my daughter’s doctor. I brought her in for a consultation.” I managed a soft “Mhm.” A second later, the voice changed. “Sweetheart?” Landon’s voice was anxious and tight. “I’m so sorry, work got crazy. I totally missed the time. I’ll be tied up here for a while longer. How about you just come to the hospital?” I arrived at St. Jude’s. Through the glass panel of the patient room, I saw Landon sitting by the bed, playfully engaging the child. Landon was handsome and warm, and every child in the pediatric wing adored him, often calling him “Big Brother Landon.” I moved closer and realized Anya was there, too, sitting opposite him. They were each holding one of the child’s hands. The scene was perfectly idyllic, a portrait of a happy family. If Anya hadn’t so abruptly broken up with Landon six years ago, this is exactly what their life might have looked like. My chest felt inflated, making it hard to breathe. When I pushed the door open, Landon’s expression froze. He subtly, instinctively, released the child’s hand. The little girl on the bed suddenly grabbed his hand again and asked in a sweet, soft voice, “Uncle Landon, can you be my daddy?” Landon’s face went rigid. Anya quickly stuffed a small piece of bread into her daughter’s mouth and looked at me. “She’s just a child talking nonsense. Please don’t take it to heart.” I managed a strained smile. Impossible not to take it to heart. But I wasn’t going to have a petty argument with a four-year-old. The “special case” Landon had mentioned was Anya’s daughter, Phoebe. The child had a congenital heart defect, and her ex-husband had divorced her because of it. Anya had returned to the States, traveling from clinic to clinic. She only chose St. Jude’s because she heard Landon’s team was leading in this field. It was all a pure, cruel coincidence, yet utterly impossible to ignore. Landon then spent the afternoon running around with Anya, taking Phoebe through a battery of tests. Time flashed by, and it was six o’clock. None of the romantic plans on my anniversary checklist had been fulfilled. I walked up to Landon and gently tugged the sleeve of his white coat. “Landon, we’re out of time…” He was buried in a stack of files, not looking up. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but Phoebe has a few more tests…” I pursed my lips, annoyed. “You promised to spend the day with me. You took the day off. Your colleagues can handle this…” “Nova, can you just be reasonable for once!” Landon’s voice suddenly rose. I froze. My hands and feet instantly turned to ice. In our five years together, he had never raised his voice to me. He realized his overreaction, and an apology flashed in his eyes, but he still pressed on. “Phoebe’s case is highly unusual. There have only been a few successful procedures in the country. How can I just hand it off to anyone?” “This is a life, Nova. Stop being so melodramatic.” A massive wave of wounded pride washed over me. My throat tightened as if it were stuffed with cotton. My voice came out scratchy and weak. “I’m not asking you to hand it off! I just think a nurse could supervise these routine tests. You don’t need to be here for every second…” “Nova’s right, Landon. You’ve done too much.” Anya walked into the office just then, looking at both of us. “Hospital beds are tight as it is, and I’m already so grateful you cleared one for us. I can handle the rest on my own.” “I heard today is your five-year anniversary? Congratulations. I hope I get to toast you at the wedding soon.” Landon’s brow furrowed slightly when Anya mentioned the wedding. Anya closed the door as she left. Silence descended on the office. After a long moment, Landon sighed, took off his white coat, and walked toward the door. When I didn’t move, he looked exasperated. “Fine. I’ll go with you. Let’s go.” “Forget it.” I spun to leave, wounded emotion swelling in my chest. Landon grabbed my arm, pulling me back. He tried to sound endearing. “I messed up, Sweetheart. I really did.” He was the man I’d loved for twelve years. He knew exactly how to disarm me. Landon took me to a movie. While we waited for the showing, he was constantly on his phone, texting. I glanced at the screen and saw him instructing a nurse to keep an extra close eye on Phoebe. My heart wrenched. I told myself to stop overthinking it—he was a dedicated doctor, this was just his professional courtesy. Halfway through the film, his phone rang, its chime piercing the dark theater. I looked at him, astonished. Landon always silenced his phone in theaters. What was wrong with him tonight? He covered the phone with his hand and bent over, walking to the back of the aisle. I hesitated, then followed. As soon as he answered, Landon’s voice softened into a gentle coo. “Phoebe, what’s wrong? Tummy ache? Did you eat something bad? Can you ask your mommy to bring a doctor to you?” “I’ll be back at the hospital tomorrow. Be a good girl and listen to your mommy. I’ll bring you a little present, okay?” Landon had always loved children; it’s why he was a pediatrician. We’d spent many nights curled up on the couch, daydreaming about the future. “I want a daughter, Sweetheart. Give me a daughter. One as cute as you.” Landon had proposed to me a month ago. Our families had agreed to set the engagement date right after the New Year. If things went smoothly, we might have our own child by next year. Landon, please, I pleaded silently. Don’t do this to me. Don’t shatter our beautiful future. In the following weeks, Landon started keeping crazy hours. He’d leave in the morning before I woke up and come home after I was already asleep. We were living in the same apartment but saw each other only once every few days. He explained that Phoebe’s surgery was highly complex and needed to be done as soon as possible. I felt genuine sympathy for the little girl—only four, facing such a high-risk operation. Knowing she loved dolls, I grabbed a new prototype from my toy design company—a doll capable of simple conversation—to give to her. I reached the door of Phoebe’s room. It was slightly ajar. Anya was sitting by the bed, stroking her daughter’s head. “Phoebe, do you like Uncle Landon?” “Yes!” the little girl chirped. Anya smiled, a thoughtful, calculating look in her eyes. She hesitated, then asked, “Do you want him to be your daddy?” “Yes!” Phoebe’s head bobbed like a cork. “Then you need to be very good and make sure Uncle Landon likes you a lot. Maybe then he could be your daddy…” “What are you telling that child!” I was inside the room before I realized I’d moved. My chest was heaving with fury. Phoebe looked up at me, startled, and burst into tears. Anya immediately pulled the child into a hug, rocking her. Landon walked in from the hallway, looking confused. “What’s going on?” Anya clung to Phoebe, her eyes red, and rushed to apologize to me. “Nova, I’m so sorry. I know you’re upset that Landon has been spending all his time here, but you can’t just yell like that, you’ll scare Phoebe. You know her heart is fragile…” Landon turned to me, instinctively stepping in front of Anya. His eyes were dark, his tone low. “Nova, why did you yell at Phoebe?” I rushed to explain. “I didn’t! Anya was saying things to her. She’s putting bad ideas in her head…” Anya’s tears finally spilled over. “It’s all my fault!” she choked out. “I only wanted to make Phoebe happy!” Landon looked at me, disappointment etched onto his face. “Nova, I told you I’m only helping Anya and Phoebe out of simple friendship and professional courtesy. Why do you have to keep making a scene?” “Do you know what you look like right now?” “You look like a walking stereotype of the jealous girlfriend!” His eyes were turning cold. In all our years, Landon had never spoken a harsh word to me. He had always looked at me with tenderness and a smile. It had only been a few days, and he was already a different person. I bit down hard on my lip. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. The bag containing the doll slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. I turned and fled. I ran a few steps down the hallway when a sudden, excruciating cramp made me collapse onto the ground. My face was ashen. A passing nurse was startled and rushed me to a quiet room. After asking a few questions, her expression turned peculiar. “You should go see the OB/GYN.” I was completely numb when the doctor told me I was seven weeks pregnant. No wonder I had been having cramps and my period was late. A month ago, my first reaction would have been pure joy. Landon loved children; he would have been thrilled. But remembering the way he had just spoken to me, my heart felt like a frozen block. That evening, Landon, for once, came home relatively early. He looked exhausted, but he knelt in front of me and apologized for his outburst earlier. “Sweetheart, you can’t think that way. I have absolutely zero feelings for her anymore. I just want to heal Phoebe.” My heart softened a little. I placed my hand on my stomach, ready to tell him the news. Then, his phone rang again. “Phoebe suddenly has a bad stomach bug. I have to go back to the hospital!” I almost laughed. Landon was responsible for all his patients, but he’d never been this frantic for any child. Only a fool would believe there was no underlying emotional connection. After Landon left, I did something I hadn’t done in six years. I opened the social media app where I used to, stalker-like, check his and Anya’s old joint account. It used to chronicle their relationship, reaching eighty thousand followers at its peak. Six years of silence had dropped the follower count to twenty thousand. And yet, just one minute ago, a brand-new post had appeared on the long-dormant page. [Thank you for running towards me a thousand times.] The accompanying picture showed three hands laid together—two adult hands, one small child’s hand. I recognized the man’s hand immediately as Landon’s. That hand—the one that carefully trimmed my nails. The one that patiently blow-dried my hair. The one that meticulously picked the bones out of my fish. It was now on Anya’s public page. The sudden post stunned their old followers. Comments slowly started trickling in. [OMG. My ancient OTP is resurrected?!] [Resurrected? They have a child already!] [Whaaaaat! So she didn’t break up, she just went off-grid! Thanks for the good news, sis, I believe in love again!] Tears blurred my vision. I took a screenshot and sent it to Landon. I wanted to hear how he planned to explain this. His reply finally came back after midnight. [Sweetheart, you’re overthinking it. Anya said Phoebe wanted me to be her dad, and it helps her mood to pretend. A positive mood helps with her treatment, so I cooperated. Don’t worry about it.] I scoffed. If it was just a pretend moment, why take a picture and post it on a public social account? We were supposed to go home this week to discuss the engagement with our parents. Landon hadn’t mentioned it once, acting as if the plans never existed. I should have seen it coming. The moment he stared blankly at his phone after hearing Anya was divorced, everything had already spun off the rails. The next day. Landon was playing a quiet game with Anya and Phoebe. The little girl took both their hands and placed them on top of each other, giggling. “Mommy, I’m going to have a daddy now!” Anya blushed, looking at Landon. A sudden impulse made her speak. “Landon, maybe we should…” Landon interrupted her. “I just remembered I need to check on another patient. I have to go.” Anya bit her lip, disappointed. Just as Landon walked out of the room, he ran into a nurse who looked surprised. “Dr. Pierce, what are you doing here?” Landon was perplexed. “Where else would I be?” “I just saw your wife in the OB/GYN ward. She was preparing for a D&C. Aren’t you going to stay with her?” Landon’s body went instantly rigid, his face turning spectral white.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390423”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel