Author: Momo Chan

1 My only wish was to give Anson a complete family. Despite my fear of pain, I mustered the courage to have his child. But a midwife’s error caused a blood vessel in my brain to rupture, and just like that, the brilliant mathematician became a simpleton who couldn’t even count. Everyone urged Anson to move on. But he’d cradle our baby with one arm and gently wipe crumbs from my mouth with the other. “I can’t let this family fall apart,” he insisted. “I’ll care for her for life.” To cover my medical bills, he buried his pride and became the relentless Mr. Hayes, consumed by work. Juggling the office and two dependents at home, he began to gray by thirty. Then one day, I spilled milk all over the floor again. Anson’s frustration finally boiled over. He shoved my head to the ground, snarling, “Lick it up. Why did you survive? Why didn’t you just die?” Terrified, I wet myself. The sight seemed to shock him back to his senses. He staggered away, pale, and locked himself in his study all night. The next morning, he made a call. “Mrs. Davis? About that woman you mentioned… I’m ready to meet her.” … Anson brought a woman home. As always, I tried to throw myself into his arms, but for the first time, he stepped aside, a frown creasing his brow as he told me to stand properly. I just stood there, stunned, watching him offer a smile to the woman he called Mindy. “This is my wife, Sasha, and our five-year-old son, Leo. I hope you’ll be able to help take care of them.” Mindy’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “We’re family now. No need to be so formal.” Leo clutched my leg, baring his teeth at the stranger like a little guard dog. I didn’t understand the strange ache in my chest, but I patted Leo’s head. “It’s okay, sweetie. She’s our new nanny.” We had a new person come to look after us every few months. A flicker of awkwardness crossed Mindy’s face before she pulled a Spider-Man lollipop from her purse. Leo’s eyes lit up instantly. Then, Mindy gently combed my tangled hair back into place. I saw the look of relief in Anson’s eyes, so I bit my lip and didn’t say a word about how hard she was pulling, how much it hurt. I still remembered making Anson angry last time, and I didn’t want it to happen again. I pulled out the little cookie I’d been saving for him and held it out. “Anson, I promise I’ll be good.” But I’d held it too long. It crumbled in my hand, scattering crumbs all over the floor Mindy had just mopped. Anson’s fury mounted in an instant. “Sasha, for God’s sake, can’t you just give me a moment of peace?” He knelt to clean up the mess with Mindy, his voice laced with apology. “I’m sorry. She’s… simple. You’ll have to be patient with her.” My cheeks puffed out. Anson hated it when people called me that. He’d even gotten into a fight over it once. I shoved the rest of the cookie into my mouth. I wasn’t sharing with him anymore. And just like that, Mindy moved in. Leo was the happiest of all. “My clothes smell so nice every day now!” he’d chirp. “And Auntie Mindy’s cooking is delicious!” He bounced in front of me, full of life, and I looked down at myself—at my increasingly stained collar and the sharp angles of my bones poking through my skin. Apparently, Anson noticed too. He asked Mindy about it. She hesitated before answering. “Sasha can be… difficult to manage.” “When you’re not here, she bites me, hits me… I’m honestly afraid to touch her.” As she spoke, she showed Anson the teeth marks on her arm. “You’re lying!” I shot out like a cornered animal, ramming my head into her stomach. I never bit anyone. Anson would believe me. He had to. The next second, a sharp, solid slap landed across my face. “Sasha, we’re doing everything we can for you! Why can’t you just behave?” Anson’s eyes were red with rage. “Do you have to drag us all down with you to be happy?” Seeing his beloved Mindy on the floor, Leo started pounding on me with his tiny fists. “Sasha’s bad! Don’t bully Mommy!” 2 Anson had told me Leo was the baby I’d risked my life to bring into this world. But he had never once called me “Mommy.” Now, the first time he said the word, it was for another woman. A sour knot formed in my chest. Anson seemed to come to his senses then, staring at his trembling hand in shock. “Sasha, I…” The slap stung, but I knew he didn’t mean it. Anson was a good man, the best man. When the flu hit us hard a while back, both Leo and I got sick. He carried us back and forth from the hospital, refusing to rest even though he was burning up himself. He didn’t collapse until we were both fully recovered. “It’s okay! It doesn’t hurt!” I forced a smile, but the throb in my cheek made me wince. Just then, Mindy approached with a tube of ointment. I slapped it out of her hand. “Bad woman! I don’t want your things!” I’d always been clear about who I liked and who I didn’t. The softness that had just returned to Anson’s eyes hardened again. “Sasha, you are unbelievable!” He grabbed me impatiently and shoved me into the dark, musty wardrobe. “You can come out for dinner when you’ve learned your lesson!” “No! I don’t want to be in here! Let me out!” Anson knew how terrified I was of the dark. We kept the lights on in the house all year round for me. I hammered on the door, my body trembling uncontrollably, but the only response was the cheerful clatter of forks and plates as they started their meal. Realizing that begging Anson was useless, I started screaming for Leo. “Leo, help me! Get me out!” Leo was small, but he was always my sweet boy. I could snatch his snacks and he wouldn’t get mad. If another kid called me a simpleton, he’d find them and punch them. But this time, his voice came back, cold and distant. “Sasha, you’re not being good. I’m not playing with you.” I don’t know how long I screamed. A sweet, metallic taste filled my throat, and my head grew so heavy I could barely hold it up. Suddenly, the door swung open, flooding the darkness with light. Mindy stood there, a bowl of rice in her hand and a saccharine smile on her face. Her words, however, were pure venom. “How does a simpleton like you end up with a rich, devoted husband? God must be blind.” She sneered. “But don’t worry. Everything that’s yours will soon be mine.” With that, she dumped the bowl of rice all over herself, grabbed my hand, and let out a piercing scream. “Ah!” Anson rushed in. Seeing the scene, he sent me flying with a vicious kick to the chest. A sharp pain tore through me, and a spray of crimson erupted from my lips. “I… I was just worried Sasha was hungry,” Mindy sobbed, burying her face in Anson’s chest. “I tried to bring her some food, but she just went crazy… She tried to choke me…” “No, that’s not… that’s not what happened!” I gasped, clutching my chest as I tried to lift my head. But Anson cut me off. “Enough! Sasha, how many times do I have to tell you? You don’t hit people!” I shrank back, terrified. I had never seen this side of him. “Anson, I just… I don’t feel safe here,” Mindy whimpered, her eyes glistening with tears as she looked up at him. “You and Leo are her family, but… I’m all alone.” Anson’s body went rigid. He turned and looked at me, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions too complex for me to understand. Then, he scooped Mindy into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. That night, Mindy was like an opera singer. Her performance went on for hours. 3 From that day on, Mindy’s belly began to swell. Leo told me she was going to have a baby brother for him to play with. An involuntary cramp seized my chest, and I rubbed at the spot. “I want to play with the baby brother, too.” I tiptoed over to where Mindy was napping on the sofa and gently rested my head on her rounded stomach. “Ah!” Her eyes flew open, wide with shock and fear. Suddenly, she clutched her belly, beads of sweat popping on her forehead. They rushed her to the hospital. Anson, already exhausted from a full day of overtime, raced to her side. The baby was fine, but Mindy was hysterical. “Anson! Sasha tried to hurt me and the baby!” she shrieked. “You have to send her away! Please, just until the baby is born. You can bring her back then.” I knew I’d done something wrong. I huddled in a corner, trying to make myself small. Anson raised his hand, his arm trembling with rage, but after a long moment, he let it fall. He sighed, a long, ragged sound, and went to Mindy’s side, whispering something I couldn’t hear. She started screaming and throwing things. Anson led me away. I spoke up, my voice small. “Anson, if you send me away… can you not send me too far?” “I told you, our family is not going to be separated!” His voice was raw, his eyes shot with bloodshot veins. With a gentle push, he backed me into the storage room. Click. The door locked from the outside. “Anson, what are you doing?!” “Just be good, Sasha. You only have to wait until Mindy’s baby is born. Then you can come out.” His voice, muffled and heavy, came through the door. It sounded so, so tired. So I decided to be good. I lay down on the cold floor and waited for Anson to feel better and let me out. But I slept and woke, slept and woke, and the door never opened. My stomach growled, a loud, empty protest. “Shh, tummy, don’t cry. I’ll find you something to eat.” I searched the cluttered room and found only half a piece of stale fruitcake. It was hard and a little bitter. After eating it, I was still just as hungry. “Anson, I’m hungry!” I banged on the door, my voice cracking into a desperate wail. It was late at night when he finally wrenched the door open, his face dark with fury. I just looked at him, my mouth hanging open pitifully. “So hungry…” He seemed to remember then that I hadn’t eaten. A flash of guilt crossed his face. He grabbed a few slices of bread from the fridge and thrust them at me, but my eyes were glued to the pot of chicken soup simmering on the stove. Without a word, he slammed the door shut again. “That’s for Mindy. You can’t have any.” It dawned on me then that the good things in this house were no longer for me first. After eating the dry bread, I remembered I was in the storage room. This wasn’t a place for sleeping. I started banging on the door again. “I’m sleepy! I want to go to bed!” The rhythm of my fists against the wood was like a drum, and I found it strangely entertaining. “Sasha, are you deaf?!” Anson yanked the door open, huge dark circles under his eyes. “Mindy needs to sleep! Can you please just be quiet!” I hiccuped in fear. Just then, Mindy appeared, holding out a small white bottle. “If she takes these, we’ll all get some peace.” Anson hesitated. “She’s just a simpleton, Anson,” Mindy pressed. “She won’t know the difference. It’ll be fine.” His expression hardened. He pried my mouth open and forced several small white pills down my throat. They were bitter, and I wanted to spit them out, but Anson’s fingers pushed them deeper, past my tongue. The world slowly faded to black. I was so, so sleepy. My body went limp, and I collapsed onto the floor. After that, whenever I opened my eyes, they would feed me the little white pills. The periods of darkness grew longer and longer. Finally, even Anson realized something was wrong. He rushed to the storage room and flung open the door. He shook me, slapped my cheeks, but I didn’t respond. Tears, hot and heavy, splashed onto my face. “Sasha, don’t scare me! Please, don’t scare me!” 4 I was rushed to the hospital to have my stomach pumped. Mindy, without a word, packed her bags and went back to her parents’ house, refusing to return. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Leo, screaming and crying at my bedside. “You bad woman, give me back my mommy!” Then I felt a warm drop on the back of my hand. Anson was crying. I panicked, not knowing what to do. “Anson, it doesn’t hurt. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.” “Sasha, what am I going to do? What am I going to do?” He was like a caged animal, pacing and frantic, desperate to break free from the invisible bars surrounding him. “My life was just getting back on track. I can’t let you ruin it all over again.” He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Just go to the asylum, okay? Please?” I didn’t know what an asylum was. But if it would make Anson happy, I would go anywhere. The next day, I was taken to a big house with high walls. “Sasha, Leo and I will visit you every week,” Anson promised before getting in his car and driving away without so much as a wave goodbye. So I started counting the days on my fingers. “Hey, simpleton, you even know how to count?” a few of the nurses snickered amongst themselves. I turned my back to them, my cheeks puffed out in annoyance. Anson used to tell me I was once the country’s youngest mathematical genius! But I’d run out of fingers and toes to count on, and Anson and Leo still hadn’t come. Oh no! The thought struck me like a bolt of lightning. What if something happened to them? The fear grew until it was all I could think about. So, when the nurses weren’t looking, I slipped out. I stumbled along, asking person after person for directions, until I finally found my way back to our street. Seeing the familiar building, I beamed with pride. I’m not a simpleton! I found my way home all by myself! But then I saw it. A pile of my clothes, discarded in a trash heap by the curb. I froze, my eyes drifting up toward our apartment. There, on the balcony, was Anson, gently holding Mindy in his arms as they soaked in the afternoon sun. And Leo was making funny faces at a baby in a cradle, trying to make him laugh. I took a few numb steps forward, just close enough to hear their voices drift down. “What are you planning to do about Sasha?” Mindy asked. Anson’s voice was heavy, final. “I’ve taken care of her long enough. Just let her live out her days in the asylum. You and the baby are my future now.” So that was it. Anson didn’t want me anymore. I must have become too much of a burden. I quietly turned around and walked all the way back to the asylum. Three days later, a morning news report sent shockwaves through the city. “A fire broke out late last night at the Northwood Asylum. Authorities report that among the one hundred and ten patients and staff, there were no survivors.” Anson shot up from his chair, the legs scraping violently against the floor. The next second, his phone began to ring. He answered it numbly. A gentle, pitying voice came through the line. “Mr. Hayes, I’m very sorry to inform you… your wife was among the victims of the fire.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385402”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 When Larry White became obsessed with the double-slit experiment and missed our wedding for the ninety-ninth time, I didn’t have a hysterical breakdown. Instead, I calmly watched him as he rushed in, still wearing his white lab coat. “The experimental data was fluctuating. I’m late.” I’d heard that line countless times. I thought he might at least offer an apology, but Larry simply grabbed a handful of wedding candy with a completely untroubled expression. “Since everything’s fine, I’ll head out. Nina’s waiting for me to tutor her.” Nina was his junior colleague, his protégé. And for their tutoring sessions, Larry never missed a single one. I turned to see my parents, their shoulders slumped, apologizing to our guests. A wave of exhaustion and weariness washed over me. Suddenly, I realized something. The groom didn’t have to be him. … Larry didn’t care about anything that wasn’t related to physics. He’d even mistaken me for someone else on occasion. I used to think he was just lost in his own world, that he was like that with everyone. But just now, the candies he’d grabbed were all Nina’s favorites. Strawberry-flavored, wrapped in pretty foil. Meanwhile, he’d never once remembered that I was allergic to flowers. An angry rash of red hives was already blooming on my arms. I stared blankly at the yellow roses Larry had brought as a token apology. I thought of all the times I had lost my temper over his carelessness. He never explained, just creased his brow into fine, handsome lines and silently watched me vent until I was done. Then he’d act as if nothing had happened. “Ava!” My mother turned and gasped at the sight of the red welts covering my skin. She and my dad rushed me to the hospital. My consciousness began to fade, my mother’s suppressed sobs echoing in my ears. “It’s all your fault, David! You were the one who insisted on introducing Larry to Ava!” My dad was Larry’s university professor. He had seen Larry’s potential and had been determined to set us up. I, in turn, had been captivated by Larry’s cool, detached aura and chased after him relentlessly. He had sighed once, telling me, “Ava, I don’t know how to be in a relationship.” I had just blinked up at him, my voice bright. “That’s okay! I’ll teach you!” He had smiled then. It’s only now that I can finally read the helplessness and annoyance that were hidden in that smile. My dad couldn’t reach Larry. He called the university lab, his voice tight with anger, but they couldn’t find him there either. “Larry isn’t here. I think he had something important to take care of.” “What could possibly be more important than his fiancée being hospitalized?” Just as my dad roared the words into the phone, I looked up and saw him. Larry. He was supporting a pale-faced girl, helping her walk. Larry, who always kept a respectable distance from everyone, had her tucked right against his side, without an inch of space between them. And this man of few words was fussing over her endlessly. “Nina, the doctor said you have to take the fever medication every day, you can’t…” His words trailed off as his eyes met mine across the hallway. So, Nina’s minor fever was a crisis of epic proportions to him. Important enough to pull him away from his precious experiments. I remembered the time I was harassed by a group of thugs on the street. I had frantically called Larry for help. His voice came through the phone, as cool and dispassionate as the clinking of glass beakers. “It’s no use calling me, Ava. The person you need to call right now is the police.” In Larry’s eyes, I was no different from any other nameless stranger on the street. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, walking over, as if bestowing a great kindness. Nina was still clinging to his arm, looking weak and apologetic. “Ava, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I bothered him so much on your wedding day.” I curved my lips into a smile. “Oh, don’t worry. You can bother him as much as you want from now on.” “Because I’m not marrying him anymore.” 2 The straight, firm line of Larry’s mouth suddenly slackened. My parents, on the other hand, looked at me with a mixture of shock and relief. They knew I was stubborn as a mule; once I made up my mind, I never backed down. And when I was done with something, I never looked back. Larry, apparently, hadn’t realized that yet. He pressed his fingers to his temples, a weary gesture. He assumed I was just throwing another jealous tantrum. “Ava, you’d better mean that.” He said it because every time I’d broken up with him in the past, I’d come running back within two days. He thought this time would be no different. But when he finally returned home after finishing his long, complicated experiment, he was greeted by silence and an empty, cold apartment. Larry’s exhausted mind stuttered to a halt. He frowned, thinking for a moment before pulling out his phone to call me. “Ava, I’m hungry.” I froze on the other end of the line, stunned that this was the first thing he had to say to me after our standoff. Then, a dry, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. Larry was hailed as a genius in the world of physics. He could solve the most complex problems, conduct the most intricate experiments. But that same man had zero life skills. I was young then, and my world revolved around him. I willingly moved into his place and became his caretaker, his maid, his everything. I thought my devotion could thaw his icy heart. But just a moment ago, Nina had unblocked me on social media, and her latest post had appeared on my feed. [Day 100 of bringing lunch for my mentor. Today is eggplant with minced pork!] The picture showed a brightly colored lunchbox. I instantly recognized the long, elegant hand in the corner of the frame. It was Larry’s. [He said it was delicious and ate every last bite!] Reading that sentence, my eyes stung so badly I thought tears would fall. Because the one food Larry absolutely despised was eggplant. My fingers pressed hard against the screen, zooming in desperately until I saw it. The nutritious, meticulously prepared meal I woke up at 6 a.m. every single morning to make for him. Tossed in the trash can in the corner. I fought back the wave of nausea and rage, my voice low and steady. “Larry, do you just think I’m that easy to push around?” He heard the tremor in my voice. His breath hitched, and he started to say something else, but I had already hung up and blocked his number. He’s a smart man, I thought. He should understand that when an adult refuses to communicate, it means the relationship is over. But Larry was clearly missing a crucial piece of common sense. The rain was pouring down in sheets when he appeared at my door, holding a cake box. “Nina said girls like cake when they’re upset, so I went all the way to…” “Enough!” I shoved the cake out of his hands, sending it splattering onto the wet ground. The dam of my emotions finally broke. “Larry, you’re not Nina’s lapdog! You don’t need to ask her opinion on everything you do!” “I’m so sick of it! Just go be with Nina! I sincerely, truly wish you two the best!” I slammed the door in his face. Through the glass, I saw his long eyelashes, beaded with raindrops, his expression utterly stunned. It was only then that it seemed to slowly dawn on him that this time was different. Before he could process it, his professor called. There was a problem with the experiment’s data. Larry had no choice but to leave. We didn’t speak for two weeks. From the bits and pieces my dad told me, I gathered he was preparing to compete for the Buckley Prize, one of the most prestigious awards in physics. Then, one evening, my phone rang. It was him. “Ava, what are you doing?” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion. I paused for a beat before answering truthfully. “I’m trying on wedding dresses.” 3 Maybe it was my imagination, but Larry’s tone suddenly sounded much lighter. “When’s the date?” Even though the wedding had nothing to do with him anymore, I told him. “A week from today.” “Okay. I got it.” Just as he was about to hang up, I heard a sweet, playful shriek from his end of the line. “Larry, where did you put my pajamas?” Clatter. The phone slipped from my grasp, and my head started to buzz. They… they were sleeping together? The thought alone was enough to make my eyes burn. A memory I had tried so hard to bury came rushing back. It was shortly after Larry and I had started dating. I begged him to introduce me to his colleagues and juniors. Unlike the others, who were all worn down and lifeless from their experiments, Nina was a constant ball of sunshine. That night, everyone was teasing Larry, pressuring him to drink. They kept asking him who the person he loved most in the world was. The alcohol had flushed his face, his eyes glassy behind his rimless glasses. He was drunk. And his subconscious answered for him. “It’s Nina…” The entire room fell silent. I twisted my fingers together in my lap, forcing a smile. I tried to convince them, and myself, “He meant Ava! He said Ava!” The awkward moment passed, but I stubbornly clung to Larry’s side, believing that time would prove everything. But after eight years of chasing him, I was just so tired. Now that I was no longer in the way, it was only natural for them to get together. So, I prepared myself to forget him. I started by throwing away all the complex LEGO sets he’d given me. I never actually liked those brainy puzzles; what I loved was the process of building them with him. But Larry was always too busy. So I would secretly hide a few pieces, hoping it would make him stay with me a little longer. His sharp eyes, however, saw right through me. “You hid the pieces, didn’t you,” he stated, not asked. “Ava, I don’t have time for your games. Nina is waiting for me to run some test data.” Nina had always been a thorn in my side. The moment I heard her name, I would become sharp and bitter. “Are you like this with Nina, too?” He seemed to pause for a second before stating a simple fact. “Nina isn’t boring like you.” That casual remark shattered my defenses. Three days before the wedding, my dad left an important file at home and asked me to bring it to the university. I took a shortcut through the physics building. I had barely stepped inside when Nina blocked my path, her face set in a stern expression. “Ava, Larry is busy with his experiment right now. You should stop harassing him.” Nearby students started whispering. “Wow, that’s Larry’s doormat fiancée.” “Such a shame. I totally ship him and Nina.” I frowned. Hadn’t Larry told them we broke up? My phone was buzzing nonstop with calls from my dad. I didn’t have time to explain. “I’m in a hurry,” I said, trying to move past her. “No!” Nina shoved me. My feet tangled, and for a heart-stopping second, I realized I was at the top of a three-story staircase. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back from the edge. I turned, my fear instantly replaced by a joyful surprise. “What are you doing here?” 4 “If I hadn’t come, you’d be a pancake on the floor right now.” Leo held me securely, his arm familiarly around my waist. He was my childhood best friend, and also the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Before I could say anything, a glacial voice cut through the air from behind me. “What are you two doing?” Larry stood there, his safety goggles pushed up on his forehead, revealing eyes red-rimmed with fatigue. His gaze slowly traveled down, locking onto Leo’s hand on my waist. A crowd was starting to form. I felt a flush of embarrassment and muttered, “It’s nothing. Just an accident.” Larry wasn’t the type to press for details. But this time, he was different. As I walked past him, he grabbed my wrist, his voice intense. “You haven’t answered my question.” Just then, a series of soft sobs broke the tension. No one had blamed Nina, but she had started crying anyway. Larry’s expression changed in an instant. He dropped my hand without hesitation and rushed to her side. “Who bullied you?” Nina just looked up at me silently, tears streaming down her face. Larry followed her gaze, his brow furrowing in displeasure when he saw me. “Why are you picking on Nina again?” I was the one who had almost been hurt, but Larry didn’t give me a chance to speak. Maybe a man so devoted to logic didn’t actually care about the truth. “Can you just stop making trouble?” He placed all the blame on me. “I told you not to drag other people into our problems.” “I’m flying out for the competition tomorrow, but I promise I’ll be back in time for the wedding. Just relax, okay?” Leo let out a soft “tsk” and was about to step forward, but I stopped him. I was perfectly calm. “First of all, I never touched Nina. Her tear ducts are her own problem. Secondly, the groom isn’t you, so you don’t need to rush back.” “Right, right. It’s not you,” Larry said, but it was clear he didn’t believe a word. He took Nina’s arm and led her away through the crowd. That night, Nina’s social media updated. [He said it’s responsibility, not love. He said he and I are the ones on the same path.] The picture was of a spectacular fireworks display over a mountaintop. I had told him more than once how much I wanted to see fireworks. But Larry always had an excuse, always too busy. It turns out that when someone truly cares, they can always find the time. Larry had said he’d be back in two days. But because Nina suddenly came down with a stomach ache, he delayed his return by a full week. His colleagues were worried. “Larry, what about your wedding?” “Ava might not forgive you so easily this time.” Larry just pushed his glasses up his nose, unconcerned. “It’s fine. She’s easy to please.” But when he finally arrived at my parents’ house, laden with gifts, he was met with cold, stony silence. He asked, “Where’s Ava?” My mother, finally getting her moment of vindication, smiled brightly. “Ava? Oh, she’s on her honeymoon.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385401”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I found out my wife’s grandfather was in the ICU, fading fast, while I was on a road trip with her parents. To give them a chance to say one last goodbye, I drove for six hours straight through the night. I pulled into a service plaza halfway there, figuring the old couple could use a bite to eat. The lot was packed, so I took one of the exclusive reserved spots near the entrance. I made sure to leave my number on the dash with a note. We were halfway through our meal when I overheard the table next to us talking about some guy smashing up a car outside. I walked out to see the front end of my Lincoln crumpled like a tin can, the windshield a spiderweb of shattered glass on the pavement. A man was still there, swinging an axe, hacking at the car’s body with a wild frenzy. As I got closer, I realized the universe had a sick sense of humor. The man with the axe was Kevin Shaw, my wife’s personal assistant. 1 Seeing my car, a gift from my parents for my 25th birthday, completely mangled… it hurt. I never asked what it cost, only that it was a custom state-commissioned model, one of only a hundred in the world. I walked up to him. “Are you done?” He recognized me, a cold smirk spreading across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Kane. What brings you out here? Enjoying the show?” I keep this car in a private garage. I rarely drive it, only bringing it out for this trip with my in-laws. Very few people would even know it was mine. I figured he must have seen the contact info I left on the dash. “Don’t tell me this car is yours,” Kevin sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. “Nah, a man of your… status… wouldn’t be caught dead in a domestic.” As a junior assistant at the company, his arrogance was fueled entirely by my wife, Isabelle. No matter what mistake he made at the office, she was always there to cover for him. I managed a small smile. “Some domestic cars you can afford to smash. Others, not so much.” Kevin just scoffed. “Is that a joke, Mr. Kane? I pull in over thirty grand a month, plus a two-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus last quarter. There isn’t a domestic car on the planet I can’t afford to wreck.” Ignorance is bliss, I guess. Spoken like a small man who’s never seen the real world. “I left my number on the dashboard. You didn’t see it?” “Did you? Maybe you forgot.” I knew this was personal. He was always pulling petty stunts at the office, spreading rumors that I was just a pretty-faced freeloader who’d married into the Ross family fortune without an ounce of talent to my name. “Does Isabelle know you act like this in public?” Kevin laughed. “What’s Isabelle got to do with this? You’re the one who parked in my spot.” This service plaza, if I remembered correctly, was leased by the Ross family. They’d paid for a three-year contract and hired a private firm to manage it. At every plaza they controlled, there were two exclusive parking spots. One was for Isabelle. The other was always kept empty. The realization that the empty spot now belonged to Kevin Shaw confirmed a suspicion I’d had for a long time. Isabelle was cheating on me. Kevin’s grin widened. “Oh, that’s right, you wouldn’t know, would you, Mr. Kane? There are only two reserved spots here. I’ve earned Ms. Ross’s high regard. Not like you, who married in three years ago and can’t even get a parking spot to your name.” He was right. It sounded pathetic. Three years of marriage, three years of bending to her every whim, and in the end, I was worth less than the dog at her heel. I was done talking. “I suggest you come up with a solution, right now. I’d rather not call the police.” “A solution? You want me to pay for it?” He burst out laughing. “Fine. I’ll wire you a hundred grand. Consider the car bought.” Seeing his absolute confidence, I sighed. “It’s 2025, man. What century are you living in?” “Then how much do you want?” “We can discuss compensation later,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “But if you make me late, you’ll have to live with the consequences.” Isabelle’s grandfather was on his deathbed. My in-laws were desperate to see him one last time. If we were delayed because of this… well, I could only do so much. If a person was determined to stand in my way, what could I do? 2 Kevin still didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation. He thought I was making empty threats. He just raised an eyebrow. “You take my spot, and now you’re blaming me? Smashing your car was a warning. Next time, it won’t be so simple.” “Oh? You planning on smashing me next?” He shrugged. “Who knows? But you’re definitely not leaving tonight.” “You’re mistaken. I’m just the driver.” My father-in-law, wondering what was taking so long, came out to find me. He saw the wrecked car and froze. Kevin had never met Isabelle’s father and assumed he was mine. He couldn’t resist a parting shot. “Actions have consequences. Figure it out yourselves.” As he turned to leave, I stepped in front of him. “That old couple is in a hurry to get home. You’re playing with fire.” Kevin shoved me aside without a second thought. “What the hell do I care where they’re going?” My father-in-law was frantic. We were less than a hundred miles from home. If we left now, we could still make it. He came over to me, his voice trembling. “Alex, this young man is completely out of line. It was just a parking spot. Did he really have to destroy the car?” I threw my hands up. “Kids these days. Short fuses.” “So what do we do? How do we get home?” Kevin chimed in, his voice dripping with schadenfreude. “Plenty of ways. You could walk. ‘Course, at your age, you’d probably croak after a few steps.” “How dare you speak like that?” my father-in-law sputtered. “Don’t you have parents? Elders in your own family?” That struck a nerve. Kevin was the product of a messy divorce, raised by an aunt. The topic was a raw wound. “What did you say, you old fossil? What business is it of yours if I have family? Do I eat your food? Wear your clothes? Live in your house?” “We can compensate you! We’ll pay you for the spot! Why did you have to smash the car?” my father-in-law pleaded. Honestly, this whole trip had been a nightmare. The old couple treated me less like a son-in-law and more like a servant. But the worst part was when someone would ask if I was their son or son-in-law, and they’d just mumble and evade the question before finally saying I was their “helper.” It was laughable, but I was too tired to argue. My marriage to Isabelle was already a sham. “Smashing the car was me being nice,” Kevin sneered. “The old me would’ve broken your legs.” That terrified my father-in-law. He hid behind me. “Alex, maybe we should call the butler to come pick us up?” “Right now? I don’t think he’ll make it in time. That’s hours of driving.” I was just being honest, but my father-in-law was practically jumping out of his skin. He was ready to buy a car on the spot if he had to. A hundred grand to see his father one last time? To him, it was worth it. I didn’t object. I turned to the small crowd that had gathered. “Anyone willing to sell their car? Two hundred thousand, cash transfer right now! As long as it can drive a hundred miles, I’ll take it!” People looked at me like I was crazy. But one guy with a beat-up minivan tentatively raised his hand. “Uh… you’d buy my old Astro van?” “Absolutely. Drive it over here. We’ll do the transfer.” Seeing I was serious, a few other drivers rushed to get their vehicles. But before anyone could make a deal, Kevin reappeared with a bullhorn. “LISTEN UP!” he blared. “ANYONE WHO SELLS A CAR TO THIS GUY TONIGHT ISN’T LEAVING THIS PLAZA! YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!” A couple of guys scoffed. Who would turn down 200k for an old junker? They were quickly proven wrong. A group of thuggish-looking security guards dragged them away. It was clear Kevin was in charge here. At this service plaza, he was king. 3 There was no police substation here. When someone tried to dial 911, Kevin had his goons surround them, ordering them to snatch the phone out of anyone’s hand if they tried to make a call. It was late, the security guards looked menacing, and most people decided it was better to just mind their own business. I was amazed at Kevin’s audacity. This wasn’t a rest stop; it was a bandit’s hideout. Of course, Kevin also promised everyone that if they waited thirty minutes, they could leave, and all their food and drinks would be on the house. “Free?” I challenged him. “Do you have any idea how much that will cost? Did you clear this with Isabelle? If this is your call, you won’t be able to afford the losses.” He just shrugged, completely unconcerned. His only goal was to screw me over. My father-in-law suddenly asked, “Isn’t this the plaza Isabelle’s company leased a while back?” When I nodded, he pulled out his phone to call his daughter. Before he could dial, Kevin slapped it out of his hand. “Are you deaf, old man? Didn’t you hear what I said? Anyone makes a call here, they answer to me!” “This place belongs to my daughter!” he roared back. “I’m calling her to deal with this!” The clock was ticking. Every second we wasted felt like a lifetime. Kevin just laughed. “Getting bolder in your old age, aren’t you?” “You dare insult me? My daughter is Isabelle Ross! You must know her!” Even hearing her name didn’t faze Kevin. He was convinced the old couple were my parents. “You do this now,” I warned him, “and you’ll regret it when she gets here.” “Ha! Don’t try to use her to scare me!” he shot back. “Even if Ms. Ross shows up, you’re the one in the wrong. What’s it got to do with me?” Seeing his absolute lack of fear, I finally understood just how much power Isabelle had given him. Enough to let him run this place like his own personal fiefdom. “You sure about that?” I pulled out my own phone and dialed Isabelle. Kevin watched me, a defiant look in his eyes. She picked up almost immediately, her voice flat and cold. “I’m in a meeting. Make it quick.” I told her my car had been smashed. “Okay,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. “So it’s smashed. We’ll buy a new one when you get back.” Before I could say another word, she hung up. 4 Isabelle’s indifference was a cold slap in the face. Kevin roared with laughter. “That’s it? She hung up? What’d she say? Let me guess: ‘figure it out yourself’?” My father-in-law looked at me, his eyes wide. “Alex, is that really what she said?” I could see the anger starting to burn in his gaze, not for my sake, but at his own daughter’s callousness. “Dad, Isabelle said she’s in a meeting. She’s busy.” “That’s no excuse!” he boomed. “She just can’t be bothered with us!” “He’s right. Ms. Ross doesn’t want to be bothered with you,” Kevin gloated. He then turned to me with a smug grin. “I bet you I can get her here with one phone call.” “She’s in a meeting,” I repeated, realizing how naive I sounded even as the words left my mouth. “She won’t come for anyone.” Kevin was already dialing. He put the phone on speaker. It rang once before she picked up. “Kevinnnn,” she cooed, her voice now a playful, sugary purr. “I’m in a meeting, you know.” The same words, but a universe of difference in tone. The cold indifference was gone, replaced by a flirtatious warmth. “I know, Ms. Ross,” Kevin chuckled. “I just missed you. Wanted to hear your voice.” “Oh, stop it. Call me Isabelle. Don’t be such a stranger.” Hearing my wife’s syrupy voice made me want to laugh. In all our years of marriage, I had never heard her speak like that, never once seen her act playful or coy. The Isabelle I knew was a powerhouse, a force of nature. Apparently, that was just for show. My father-in-law stared at the phone, his face a mask of disbelief, as if he couldn’t process that the voice belonged to his daughter. Before he could speak, Kevin cut in. “Isabelle, I’ve run into a little trouble here. Can you come down?” “Of course,” she said instantly. “Send me your location. I’m on my way.” In a meeting? No time? I let out a bitter, silent laugh. I couldn’t imagine a more humiliating moment. Whose wife was she, exactly? Kevin turned to me, his chest puffed out. “You hear that? Isabelle’s on her way. Anything else you’d like to say?” He looked so triumphant. I had lost, completely and utterly. But I had been preparing myself for this. The disappointment was real, but now I was more curious to see the look on Isabelle’s face when she saw her parents. Forty minutes later, a news alert popped up on my phone. Leo Ross, former chairman of Ross Industries, has passed away due to illness at the age of 89. My father-in-law saw the notification over my shoulder. His face went from confusion to rage, and finally, to utter despair. They knew. Even if we left now, it was too late. The chance to see his father one last time was gone. A wound that would never heal. Just then, a sleek sports car pulled up. Isabelle stepped out. So much for being “in a meeting”—she was perfectly made up, dressed not in her usual power suit, but in a sexy, form-fitting knit dress and stilettos that drew stares from everyone around. “Isabelle, over here!” Kevin waved her over. She saw him and broke into a smile I had never seen before—warm, tender, and undeniably intimate. The old me would have been consumed by jealousy. The new me felt nothing. When she finally saw me, the smile vanished. “Why did you park in Kevin’s spot?” she demanded. “You deserved to have your car smashed.” “There was a reason,” I started. “I was with—” “I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she cut me off. “Fine. Then pretend I never said anything.” “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you blaming me?” Faced with her irrational anger, I simply turned away. She was about to erupt when my father-in-law emerged from the restroom. The first words out of his mouth when he saw her were, “You unfilial child! You finally decided to show up!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385400”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In our world, everyone knew the score: Old Man Mantel had decreed that I was the key to his family’s empire. Whoever married me would inherit it all. At the engagement party, I stood poised in a custom-made gown, ready to take the stage and announce the union of the Mantel and Vance families. But then my fiancé, Caleb Mantel, strode into the center of the glittering ballroom, his fingers intertwined with my stepsister, Dahlia Vance. He pulled her to his side, a defiant set to his jaw. “Dahlia and I are in love,” he announced, his voice ringing through the sudden silence. “She is the only one I will ever marry.” He shot a cold glance in my direction. “Keira is too headstrong. She is not fit to be Mrs. Mantel.” Just like that, my engagement was transferred to my stepsister. A sea of faces turned towards me, their expressions a mix of pity and scorn. What Caleb didn’t know, what almost no one knew, was the real reason Grandpa Arthur had chosen me. My mother is the matriarch of the Thorne family, a reclusive and powerful dynasty, and one day, I will inherit everything. Since Caleb had made his choice, it was time for the Mantel empire to find a new heir. 1 Caleb’s grip on Dahlia’s hand was ironclad as he positioned her before the stunned crowd. She let out a small, theatrical gasp, trying to pull away. “Caleb, we can’t,” she whispered, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “Your engagement to my sister… it was arranged by your grandfather himself.” “You’re the one I love,” he declared, lacing their fingers together more tightly. “I won’t marry anyone else.” He looked up at Grandpa Arthur, who sat enthroned on the main dais, his face a granite mask. “Grandfather, I’ve always loved Dahlia. She is the only woman I will have as my wife.” The air crackled with whispers. Everyone here knew Caleb and I had grown up together, that I was Grandpa Arthur’s handpicked choice for his grandson. But now, in front of everyone who mattered in our circle, Caleb was publicly tearing my dignity to shreds. His tone was absolute. “Keira and I may have grown up together, but I’ve only ever seen her as a sister. Nothing more.” He continued, his voice hardening, “Dahlia and I are in love. We’ve been together for some time. In my heart, my wife can only be her. No other woman will do.” I saw Caleb’s parents flinch, their eyes darting nervously toward the old man on the dais. Caleb wrapped an arm around Dahlia’s waist and finally looked at me, his eyes glinting with a strange sort of triumph. “Keira, you have to know I never saw you that way. Surely you don’t want to be chained to a man who doesn’t love you for the rest of your life?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, Dahlia and I are already together. You wouldn’t use my grandfather’s affection for you to stand between us, would you?” I held their gaze for a moment before turning to Grandpa Arthur and offering a slight, respectful bow. “Grandpa Arthur, if they truly love each other, who am I to stand in their way? Please, let them be happy.” I raised my glass. “To my sister and Mr. Mantel. May you have a long and happy life together.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Caleb’s face at my composed response. Dahlia, however, played her part perfectly, clutching his arm with a worried expression. “Caleb, darling, your engagement was your grandfather’s wish. What if he’s angry?” Caleb patted her hand, his voice softening into a gentle murmur. “He won’t be. He adores me. He won’t stay mad over someone like her.” He then added, with a dismissive wave in my direction, “Besides, you’re the true daughter of the Vance family, the real heiress. This was always meant to be a union between our families. Why would we care about an outsider?” An outsider? Only my father and Grandpa Arthur knew the truth of my identity. My mother, the head of the Thorne dynasty, had entered a strategic marriage with my father. I was destined to inherit the Thorne empire, which is why I carry her name. And he really thought Dahlia was my father’s biological daughter? How little he knew. Grandpa Arthur’s brow furrowed at Caleb’s words. “Caleb, don’t be a fool. Are you certain you want to marry Miss Vance?” Caleb’s response was to dramatically slip the engagement ring onto Dahlia’s finger and press a devout kiss to her knuckles. “Grandfather, my mind is made up. I will marry Dahlia and no one else.” A wave of disappointment washed over Grandpa Arthur’s face. If this had just been about swapping fiancées, perhaps he would have overlooked it. But for Caleb to orchestrate this public humiliation, to intentionally drag me through the mud in front of everyone… it proved he was unreliable. Unworthy. “Fine,” the old man said, his voice flat and cold. “Have it your way.” With Grandpa Arthur’s reluctant blessing, a collective sigh of relief rippled through the room. The titans of industry invited to witness the merger of two great families had been holding their breath, waiting to see how the scandal would unfold. Amidst the cacophony of hushed gossip, Caleb led Dahlia to the microphone. “Thank you all for coming today to celebrate the engagement of myself and Miss Dahlia Vance.” The guests exchanged glances, their faces a canvas of shock and intrigue. No one had expected the Mantels and Vances to pull a stunt like this. My father, who had been blindsided by the whole affair, saw his face darken with fury. I felt a cold knot tighten in my stomach, but I forced my spine to remain ramrod straight, raising my glass high as if offering a toast to their union, a final, grand gift. “Can you believe he switched fiancées on the spot? He didn’t even try to save Keira Thorne’s reputation.” “I thought Old Man Mantel was dead set on her. What made him change his mind?” “To be jilted at your own engagement party… how utterly mortifying. She must have done something to make Caleb despise her that much.” The whispers weren’t quiet. My father shot Dahlia a withering glare before turning on Caleb. “Do you have any idea how much gossip your sister will have to endure because of this? And you,” he seethed, turning to his other daughter, “you’re old enough to know better. Did you think for a second about the consequences, or were you just trying to humiliate me?” Dahlia flinched under his tirade and meekly tried to pull the ring from her finger to hand it to me. Grandpa Arthur waved a dismissive hand, stopping her. He turned to me, his eyes filled with a genuine, heavy guilt. He gently patted my head. “Keira, my dear, don’t you worry. Grandpa will make this right. If you’re willing, there are other fine young men in the Mantel family.” Caleb’s parents overheard, but they dismissed it as a comforting platitude, nothing more. They never expected my next move. I pointed toward a shadowed corner of the room, where the black sheep of the Mantel family was watching the drama unfold with a lazy smirk. “Actually,” I said, my voice clear and steady, “the one I’ve always admired is Silas. I hope you’ll grant us your blessing, Grandpa.” Every head swiveled to Silas, then back to me, eyes wide with disbelief. Silas was the illegitimate son of Caleb’s late uncle. After his father’s death, he was ostracized by the family, his life a constant struggle for relevance. Grandpa Arthur, not wanting to be accused of mistreating his own blood, had begrudgingly taken Silas in to live under his roof. My father looked at me, utterly aghast. “Keira,” he whispered urgently, “I know you’re upset, but he’s an illegitimate son. The Mantels don’t take him seriously.” I nonchalantly swirled the wine in my glass and raised it in Silas’s direction. “He didn’t choose his circumstances. I think he’s quite impressive. I’m willing to give it a try.” Silas’s dark eyes met mine from across the room, his expression unreadable, almost mocking. “If Miss Thorne insists,” he called out, his voice smooth and detached, “then let’s give it a try.” The gazes fixed on me were now heavier, laced with a new, profound meaning. The news of the Mantel family’s chaotic engagement party spread through our social circles like wildfire. The moment the event ended, a text from my mother buzzed on my phone. In a private suite at a downtown hotel, my mother wrapped me in a fierce hug, her eyes shooting daggers at my father. “Jonathan,” she said, her voice dangerously low, “how dare you let my daughter be humiliated like this? Are you tired of your position?” I squeezed her hand, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Grandpa Arthur offered me another match. His name is Silas Mantel. I quite like him.” My father wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow and sighed. “He’s a nobody, Keira. An outcast. Why would you choose him?” I met my parents’ confused stares, a small smile playing on my lips as I laid out my plan. “Grandpa Arthur and my grandfather arranged this union. I was always going to marry into the Mantel family, one way or another.” “And Silas, despite his status, is the most capable of all the young Mantel men. From a purely business perspective, he is the most suitable partner.” I let that sink in before delivering the final, crucial point. “Besides, he’s an illegitimate son. If I marry him, the Thorne family becomes his foundation in the Mantel empire. He’ll have no choice but to treat me well.” Now, Dahlia was the toast of the town, a figure everyone fawned over and desperately tried to connect with. The merger of the Mantel and Vance families was a titan in the making, and everyone wanted a piece of the action. I had no time for such trivialities. I was abroad, focused on a critical project my mother had entrusted to me. Then came the invitation for Grandpa Arthur’s birthday. Dahlia sent it personally, following up with a string of phone calls until I had no choice but to accept. The moment I stepped through the grand doors of the Mantel manor, every eye was on me. I felt no shame, only a cool sense of purpose as I smiled and handed my gift to the butler. “What is Keira Thorne doing here? I thought Caleb was with her sister now.” “You haven’t heard? After Caleb insisted on breaking the engagement, she threw a fit and chose that illegitimate son, Silas.” “She’d even marry a bastard just to get into the Mantel family? That woman has no shame.” As the whispers swirled, Dahlia made her grand entrance on Caleb’s arm. Gone was her usual understated, gentle attire. Tonight, she was draped in a haute couture gown and so many layers of opulent, flashy jewelry that she looked less like high society and more like a gaudy chandelier. Spotting me, she glided over, reaching out to take my arm with sickeningly sweet affection. “Sister! Isn’t it just wonderful that we both get to marry into the Mantel family? Out of sisterly love, I’ll be sure to have Caleb help your… husband… move up in the world.” I almost laughed. She still thought this was about marrying into the Mantel family, didn’t she? Caleb clearly thought the same. In his eyes, I was a desperate social climber who would do anything to cling to his family name. He looked at me as if I were something he’d scraped off his shoe. I had no interest in engaging with them. I turned to leave, but my eyes caught on a piece of jewelry on Dahlia’s wrist: a magnificent emerald bracelet of unmistakable quality. It was the Mantel family heirloom, a piece passed down through generations, always kept in Grandpa Arthur’s private safe. I couldn’t believe it was on Dahlia’s arm, nearly lost amidst the three or four other gaudy bracelets she had stacked on. The Mantel heir hadn’t even been officially named. What was that bracelet doing on her? I pointed to it, my voice sharp. “Where did you get that?” Caleb stiffened for a split second, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. Dahlia, however, simply stroked the emeralds, her expression shifting into one of practiced innocence. “Sister, I know this was supposed to be yours. But I’m the one marrying Caleb now, so naturally, it’s mine.” Caleb nodded, his defensiveness returning full force. In his mind, he was already the heir apparent. What was the harm in letting his beloved wear the family jewels a little early? “This is a Mantel family heirloom,” he snapped. “I can give it to whomever I please. What business is it of yours?” He looked me up and down, then took a deliberate step back as if I were contagious. “And don’t think you can use this as an excuse to get my attention. I’ll never be interested in you. My heart belongs to Dahlia.” His voice was loud, attracting even more attention. “Look at her, still trying to get between them. You’d think she’d have some self-respect.” “She seems so poised usually, but I guess she’s just as desperate as anyone to marry into money.” Dahlia blushed, playfully tapping Caleb’s chest. “Darling, don’t be so harsh. We’ll all be family soon. You have to promise you’ll help them out.” Caleb glanced at me, then back at Dahlia, his expression softening into one of doting affection as he pinched her cheek. “Alright, for you, I’ll let it go. But if you ever have any improper thoughts about me again,” he warned me, “don’t expect me to be so merciful.” They were lost in their nauseating display when a new voice cut through the air from behind them, cool and sharp as ice. “My fiancée? Why would she have any ‘improper thoughts’ about you? Caleb, that’s a terribly rude way to speak to your future sister-in-law.” Silas entered, supporting Grandpa Arthur by the arm. A faint smile played on his lips, but his eyes, fixed on Caleb, were full of challenge. Grandpa Arthur’s gaze landed on the bracelet encircling Dahlia’s wrist, and his face instantly turned to stone. “Who gave you permission to wear that?” he boomed, his voice radiating an authority that made the air tremble. “Take it off. Now!” Dahlia, terrified, fumbled with the clasp and hastily removed the bracelet. Caleb muttered under his breath, “Grandfather, I just let her borrow it. It’s going to be hers eventually anyway, what’s the big deal?” The old man didn’t respond. He simply shot Caleb a look that could freeze fire before leading Silas to the front of the room. He cleared his throat, commanding the attention of every guest. “Tonight is not just a celebration of an old man’s birthday,” he announced. “We have another joyous occasion to share.” He placed a hand on Silas’s shoulder. “This is my grandson, Silas Mantel. In a few days, he and Keira Thorne will be officially engaged. We hope you will all join us to celebrate.” The room erupted in stunned silence. Eyes darted between me and Silas, trying to process the tectonic shift that had just occurred. Caleb stood frozen, his face a mask of disbelief. “Grandfather, what are you talking about? Why would Keira be engaged to him?” He gestured wildly at Silas. “He’s just an illegitimate son, he’s—” “Silas is my grandson,” Grandpa Arthur cut him off, his voice like cracking granite. “He is a Mantel.” After that first, disastrous engagement party, I had arranged a private meeting with Silas. In the quiet of a private club, he had watched me with a knowing, almost playful look in his eyes. “I’m just the family bastard,” he said, a smirk dancing on his lips. “The Mantels have plenty of golden boys. Why choose me?” I slid a file across the polished table toward him. “Because you need me. And I need you. Together, we are the optimal solution.” He glanced at the file but made no move to open it. “And what kind of ‘solution’ would that be?” I pushed the file a little closer. “Let’s be honest. I’ve done my research on you. You’re brilliant, far more capable than anyone gives you credit for. I want to partner with you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385399”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three days ago, Paul bought me an engagement ring. Last night, at the birthday party of the woman he never got over, he knelt and slid that same ring onto Crystal’s finger. It was too loose. When she curled her fingers, it fell and clattered to the floor. In the video, Paul’s face flushed with embarrassment. He picked it up, voice thick with rehearsed emotion: “Crystal, I’m still waiting for you. Come back to me.” He even squeezed out a few pathetic tears—a performance worthy of an award. My drama-loving best friend spammed me with the videos, adding: “Lol, isn’t it hilarious? The guy you chased for eight years is acting like her lapdog.” Her words were pure salt in the wound. She wasn’t wrong. The boy I’d have shielded from any harm was groveling at another woman’s feet. Every year I loved him, he spent begging for her. That ring was my last hope for us. Now, he’d used it to propose to her. I took a slow breath, and the knot in my chest finally loosened. I typed back calmly: “Who’s Paul? I don’t know him.” … Paul and I grew up together. He was my ideal—quiet, steady, grounded. Chasing him for eight years had been an exhausting marathon. Then, three days ago, he came home reeking of whiskey, pulled me into an uncharacteristically tight embrace, and whispered in my ear, “Let’s get engaged. We’ll pick out a ring tomorrow.” To say I was ecstatic would be an understatement. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. That night, Paul was different. The usual rough, perfunctory intimacy was replaced with a slow, lingering tenderness. As his breathing grew ragged against my neck, he began to murmur a name, over and over. “Crystal… Crystal…” My heart seized. My body, which had been moving in sync with his, went completely still. My eyes flew open in the darkness. He thought I was her. In the most intimate moment a couple can share, the man I loved was calling out another woman’s name. There is no greater humiliation. The love was a lie. The tenderness was a lie. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a convenient stand-in, a body to use when the one he truly wanted was unavailable. I spent the rest of that night with cold, silent tears tracking into my pillow. The next morning, Paul was in high spirits, completely oblivious to the arctic chill emanating from my side of the bed. He went about his routine—showering, dressing, whistling a tune. Before he left, he leaned in, a bright smile on his face. “Aria, meet me after work. We’ll go pick out that ring.” He sealed the promise with a lingering kiss on my forehead. Looking at him then, he was still the man I had loved for so long. Time had been kind to him, leaving no trace of the years on his handsome face. Maybe getting engaged means he’s finally ready to move on, I told myself, a desperate internal monologue. He’s trying to let go of Crystal, right? I forced a smile onto my face, trying to inject some life into my numb features. But reality has a way of slapping you back to your senses when you least expect it. Watching that video now—Paul’s adoring gaze, the ring on Crystal’s finger—the whole thing felt like a sick joke. That ring was a one-of-a-kind custom piece, registered to his ID. A man could only ever order one. I remembered him leaning over the counter, meticulously discussing details with the jeweler. At the time, it had looked like pure devotion. I had even tried to haggle over the price, but Paul had waved it off with uncharacteristic ease. “No need. We’ll take it.” Of course he was quick to pay. It was never meant for me. I started packing a suitcase, my mind replaying our history. Except, it wasn’t my suitcase. It was his. The apartment was in my name. For years, he had been a freeloader, never contributing a dime to rent, utilities, or groceries. He’d been shameless, and I’d been a fool. It was time for him to go. I threw all of his belongings into a cardboard box and left it by the door. On top, I tossed the cheap teddy bear he’d won for me at a carnival five years ago for my birthday. It had cost him maybe five dollars. It’s strange how love works. When you’re in it, even the most worthless trinket feels like a treasure. When it’s gone, the most precious memories just look like clutter. Paul hadn’t sent me a single message. My friend, on the other hand, had sent dozens, each one a little jab of pity-laced schadenfreude. I ignored her and sent Paul one final text: “Engagement’s off. We’re done.” Then, I began the purge. Block on social media, delete contact. Block number, delete from call history. I even changed my privacy settings to prevent him from adding me again. If I was going to be ruthless, I was going to do it right. Wednesday. A normal workday. As a seasoned corporate drone, the crushing pressure and frantic pace of my job were a welcome distraction. There was no time to wallow. The office was buzzing with unusual energy. My colleague and best friend, Chloe, saw me and expertly slid her chair over to my desk, handing me a beautifully wrapped box of chocolates. “Wedding favors from the marketing team next door,” she said. “Everyone got one.” Then she nudged her phone toward me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have to see this.” Chloe and I had been through college and the corporate trenches together. We were battle-hardened best friends. She knew every sordid detail of the Aria-Paul-Crystal love triangle. I opened the message. It was a photo of Crystal getting into a Porsche with an older, balding, and distinctly sleazy-looking man. They looked very familiar with each other. Chloe explained that she’d snapped the picture last night. The man was nouveau riche, his family having made millions when their neighborhood was bought out for redevelopment. He was a known quantity in their old neighborhood. The implication was clear: Crystal was a gold-digger, playing the innocent maiden to keep Paul on a string while she chased after real money. “Paul is such an idiot,” Chloe seethed, fiercely protective. “He can’t tell a good person from a snake.” I just smiled, closed my phone, and handed her the work files I’d prepared. “Forget it. Let’s get to work.” A month ago, this news would have sent me into a spiral of vengeful glee. The irony of Paul making a heartfelt declaration to a woman who was simultaneously being wined and dined by her sugar daddy was almost poetic. But now… I didn’t care. Her life was her problem. Our company had just landed a massive client, and the entire marketing department was drowning in overtime. The only break we got was a brief lunch. On my way to the restroom, I ran into Crystal. In college, she was a year below me in the same program. Paul first saw her when he came to find me at a networking event. He’d told me then, with a desperate, pleading look in his eyes, that he had never felt this way about anyone before. He begged me to help him, or he would regret it for the rest of his life. So, in a moment of noble, self-sacrificing stupidity, I gave him her number. A few days later, they were “official” on social media. Now, we worked in the same building. I was on the fifth floor, she was on the second. For her to come all the way up to my floor to use the restroom… her motive was painfully obvious. The moment she saw me, her neutral expression sharpened into a look of smug superiority. As I stepped toward the restroom door, she shoved past me. “I was here first,” she sneered. “Get out.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with an animal. But then she brought up the ring. “Paul gave me a ring at my party yesterday.” She pulled it from her pocket, her smile twisting into something ugly. “It’s a little loose, though. I can’t really wear it. You want it?” She dangled it in front of my face. “The quality is a bit cheap, but for you… it’s probably just right.” This was her victory lap. It wasn’t the first time she’d gloated. I remained calm, about to deliver a retort, when a voice boomed from the doorway. “Did someone take a dump in here? Why does it smell so bad?” It was Chloe. She marched right up to Crystal, theatrically sniffing the air around her. Then she turned to me with a look of mock discovery. “Aria, I found it! It’s the smell of two-faced bullshit!” Crystal’s face contorted with rage, and she raised a hand to strike Chloe. I caught her wrist in a vise-grip, my voice dropping low and sharp. “You want to get physical? You’re not even worth the effort. Since you clearly never learned any manners, let me teach you a lesson.” I leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “By the way, that ring? It is trash. And trash is the perfect accessory for a girl like you.” Her wrist turned red under my grip, but I didn’t let go. Mercy to your enemies is cruelty to yourself. Crystal, accustomed to always getting her way, was stunned by my aggression. She struggled, calling me a psycho, a monster. I just thought to myself how exhausting it was to always be the bigger person. Sometimes, being the villain was so much more fun. Chloe snorted, linked her arm through mine, and we swaggered out. “I can’t stand her,” she fumed. “That felt so damn good! One minute she’s playing the innocent victim with Paul, the next she’s letting some old creep paw at her. Girl’s got an appetite, I’ll give her that.” I laughed, a real laugh this time. “My appetite’s pretty good too,” I quipped. “But for eight years, I chose to eat garbage.” Crystal must have run crying to Paul. The second I walked out of the office building that evening, he was there, blocking my path, his face a thundercloud. “Aria, what is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his fingers digging painfully into my arm. I almost laughed. What a devoted knight in shining armor, rushing to defend his damsel’s honor. It was pathetic. And even more pathetic was the fact that I had loved this man for eight years. Eight whole years. “I have nothing to say to you,” I said, my voice devoid of the warmth he was used to. “We’re done.” The ring had been the final straw. Paul’s brow was furrowed, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. A rough stubble was starting to appear on his chin, a sign of neglect for a man who was usually so meticulously groomed. His grip on my arm didn’t loosen, and my patience snapped. “Paul, we’re adults,” I said, my voice sharp. “You have the right to chase your own happiness. And so do I. I’ll admit, you gave me hope. But do you know what’s worse than having no hope? It’s the crushing despair that comes after it’s snatched away. If you don’t love me, stop pretending!” The words poured out of me, eight years of frustration and quiet humiliation finally given a voice. I had followed him, worshipped him, made him the center of my universe. Even when Crystal came along, I had maintained my dignity, my respect. I remembered his birthday, how I’d shown up at his dorm with a cake I’d spent all day baking, only to find him locked in a passionate embrace with Crystal. He had pulled away, his face glowing, and rested his forehead against hers. Crystal had seen me, and with a sickeningly sweet smile, took the cake from my hands. “Wow, Paul always said you were an amazing baker, Aria! I’m so lucky. I’m so clumsy, I can’t do anything right.” I don’t remember much else, except for the adoring look in Paul’s eyes as he gazed at her, gently stroking her hair. He never once thanked me. Instead, he looked at Crystal and said, “If you like it, I’ll have Aria make you one every day.” The jealousy had been real. The feeling of being worthless had been real. He had treated me like a personal chef, a maid, someone who should be grateful for his scraps of attention. I was done with that life. Paul looked as if I had physically struck him. His face went pale, the light in his eyes dimming. His lips parted, but no words came out. We stood there in a tense stalemate for several minutes until Crystal emerged from the building. “Paul, darling! You came to pick me up!” she trilled, loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear. Marking her territory. How amusing. When she saw me, her sunny expression clouded over. She sagged against Paul’s shoulder, dabbing at her eyes with a delicate, practiced motion. “Paul, Aria was so horrible to me today. She said the ring you gave me was ugly… that it was trash… It hurt my feelings so much, knowing it was a gift from your heart…” For a moment, I was struck by her sheer stupidity. She knew it was a gift from him, but she had no idea it was supposed to have been my engagement ring. At the mention of the ring, Paul’s head snapped up. A flicker of realization crossed his face, and the hardness in his eyes softened. “Aria…” he began, his voice trembling. “I… I…” He only ever called me by that nickname during our most intimate moments. It used to make me feel special. Now, it just sounded grating. If it weren’t for those videos, I might still be lost in the fantasy of our life together. Paul, I thought with a grim sense of finality, you really took me for a complete fool. Crystal tried to continue her performance, but Paul was unresponsive, lost in his own thoughts. She tugged at his sleeve, desperate for his attention. I turned to leave, just as a black Mercedes G-Wagen pulled up smoothly to the curb. The passenger window rolled down, and a two-liter bottle of iced green tea came flying out, thrown with considerable force. It missed Crystal’s head by inches. What a pity. Amidst Crystal’s shriek of surprise and Paul’s stunned silence, Chloe, sitting in the driver’s seat with a pair of dark sunglasses, yelled, “Get in!” After only a moment’s hesitation, I grinned. “You got it!” I hopped into the passenger seat, buckled up, and with a roar of the engine, we sped away. In the rearview mirror, I saw Crystal stomping her foot in fury. And Paul… Was he watching me?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385398”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While I was overseas burying my father, my daughter’s desperate texts flooded my phone: Mom, save me. I don’t want to give Seraphina my kidney. I just want to live. I took the first flight back. I arrived to find my cherished daughter locked in the cellar—while the two bodyguards I’d raised since childhood were upstairs spoon-feeding my adopted daughter, Seraphina Vance, like a princess. They had the nerve to act righteous. “Mrs. Kaling,” one said, “Seraphina’s immune system is weak. We only asked Aurora to donate a kidney. Her refusal is shockingly cruel.” The other added, “She has a spare. Seraphina’s life matters. If she stays stubborn, she can rot down there.” “We’ve also made Seraphina CEO. Aurora can start from the bottom… after she agrees.” I saw my daughter—chains cutting into her wrists and ankles, eyes hollow—and tasted blood in my throat. In three months, these fools thought they could take the Kaling family and torture my child. They didn’t know who they were dealing with. I am Lorelei Kaling. They will suffer. 1 In the elite circles of our city, the Kaling family is an anomaly. For generations, our power has been passed down from mother to daughter. When my daughter, Aurora, was born, she was frail. To ensure her safety, I went to an orphanage and carefully selected two boys to be her companions, her protectors. When she was thirteen, my husband brought home an orphan girl he’d found on the streets. She was all skin and bones, and my heart went out to her. I thought it would be good for Aurora to have a sister. So, I adopted Seraphina Vance. I never imagined that these playthings, these companions I had provided for my daughter’s amusement, would one day conspire to destroy her. … I rushed to unlock the chains. The raw wounds on her wrists were crusted with rust. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise as I lifted her limp body, preparing to race to the hospital. Suddenly, Seraphina threw herself in front of the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed as she knelt before me. “Mrs. Kaling, if you’re going to blame anyone, blame me,” she sobbed. “The boys were just worried about me. That’s the only reason they locked Aurora up.” “Maybe I’m not worth saving. That must be why she won’t help me. It’s okay. I’m grateful for every extra day I get to live.” She tried to push herself up, only to collapse back onto the floor in a delicate, theatrical swoon. Before I could react, the two bodyguards, Caspian and Julian, rushed to her side, gathering her into their arms. They flanked her, murmuring words of comfort. “Don’t say that, Seraphina. After all these years, Mrs. Kaling surely sees you as her own daughter. She’ll give you anything you want.” “That’s right. Even if it took both of Aurora’s kidneys to guarantee your health for a lifetime, what would it matter?” “You’re so pure-hearted. When you inherit the Kaling empire, we’ll be right here with you. We won’t let anyone bully you ever again.” At their words, Aurora, small and fragile in my arms, tightened her grip on my sleeve, terrified that I too would be swayed by their poison. I knew, all too well, that her feelings for Caspian had long ago blossomed into a teenage crush. To be humiliated like this, in front of him… I had no patience for their games. My only focus was the pain in my daughter’s eyes. “Enough!” I roared, my voice echoing in the cavernous room. “I’m taking Aurora to the hospital. Get out of my way. Now.” My shout made Seraphina shrink back into Caspian’s arms, trembling. Julian glared at me, his face a mask of indignation. “Mrs. Kaling, have you even spared a single thought for Seraphina since you’ve been back? She hasn’t even eaten dinner!” He reached out and grabbed my daughter’s injured arm. “Aurora Kaling, get down here. How long are you going to keep up this act? Seraphina is in tears because of you. How can you be so wicked?” I didn’t hesitate. I lifted my knee and drove it into Julian’s groin. How dare a piece of trash like him even touch my daughter? He crumpled to the floor, howling in agony. “Caspian, stop her! Don’t let them leave until she agrees to the donation! We promised Seraphina we would always protect her!” Caspian settled Seraphina gently before rising to face me, his calm eyes simmering with rage. “Mrs. Kaling,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.” I was the one who had sent them to learn martial arts, to ensure they could protect Aurora from any threat. I never dreamed I would be the first to test their skills. I studied him. At six feet tall, his presence was undeniably intimidating. His fists were clenched, the veins standing out on his arms as he stared me down. It was clear that if I took one more step toward the door, he would not hesitate to strike. But as the head of the Kaling family, what kind of matriarch would I be without a security detail that had seen real combat? I let out a short, sharp whistle. In an instant, Caspian was slammed to the ground, pinned and unable to move. His pathetic little martial arts display could be saved for a street fight. Every second they wasted was a second my daughter’s treatment was delayed. They would pay for this. As I stepped over the threshold, Caspian’s furious voice followed me. “Mrs. Kaling, if you walk out that door today, I will never marry your daughter!” He saw me pause, and a triumphant smirk spread across his face. “You brought us into your home, called it charity… but wasn’t it all so you could groom us as a potential husband for your precious Aurora? Well, I’m telling you now, I love Seraphina. I’ve had enough of Aurora and her pathetic, self-important crush on me.” At Caspian’s dramatic confession, Seraphina launched herself toward him. “Let him go!” she cried, her small hands trying in vain to pry the guards’ fingers from his arms. When she realized it was useless, she turned and knelt before me again. “Please, Mrs. Kaling, let them go,” she pleaded. “It’s my fault. My immune system is so weak, the doctor said it could lead to kidney disease. The boys were just trying to help. The Kaling family has so much money. Even if she donates a kidney, with the proper care, she’ll be fine. If she doesn’t want to, I’ll leave. Just please, don’t hurt them.” Watching her performance, the tears streaming down her face, Caspian struggled against his restraints. “You win,” he spat. “Money always wins. Fine. If Aurora Kaling agrees to donate her kidney to Seraphina, I will consider marrying her. Nothing is more important than Seraphina’s safety.” I almost laughed. As if entry into the Kaling family was something he could negotiate. I ignored him and turned my gaze to Julian. “Is that how you feel, too?” If Caspian had been like an older brother to Aurora, Julian had been her best friend, her confidant. The sadness of a failed test, the joy of a delicious meal, even the first flutterings of her crush on Caspian—she had shared everything with Julian first. And now, this boy, who had always stood by her side, who had protected her without question, looked at me with a face twisted by loathing. “I should have known,” he sneered. “Aurora’s cruelty is inherited from you. You’ve controlled our lives for years, trapped us in this gilded cage. Did you think you could control who we love, too? Well, I’m telling you, just like Caspian said: Aurora isn’t worthy. She isn’t worthy to even compete with Seraphina.” I had my answer. I turned, settled my daughter more comfortably in my arms, and walked to the car. “Take off your socks,” I instructed my guards, “and stuff them in their mouths.” How foolish of me to have held out even a sliver of hope. I knew my daughter. Caspian’s rejection would wound her pride. But Julian’s betrayal… that would break her heart. They had feasted on my family’s generosity, grown strong on my family’s wealth, only to turn and bite the hand that fed them. Love? Affection? My daughter didn’t need it from them. Her future would be filled with something far more reliable: money. More money than she could count in a dozen lifetimes. I held her close, stroking the damp strands of hair from her face. I’m so sorry, my love. This is all my fault. Thankfully, her wounds were superficial. She had fainted from a combination of shock and hunger. The doctor cleaned her cuts, started an IV, and told me to let her rest. I gently stroked her hair, my heart aching, before stepping out of the room. I dialed my husband, a man I hadn’t seen in two years. Before I left the country, I had explicitly told him to look after our daughter. Now, after all this, he hadn’t even called to check on her. My relationship with Sebastian Croft was never a love story. For generations, the men who married into the Kaling family did so by taking our name. I was drawn to his face; he was drawn to my money. For years, we had an understanding: we lived separate lives, never interfering with the other’s affairs. I called him several times. No answer. So I cut him off. Every single one of his credit cards, frozen. It seemed that in my three-month absence, he had forgotten where his money came from. … The next afternoon, I returned to the hospital with a flask of chicken soup our cook had prepared. Aurora was awake. “My love,” I said, rushing to her side and wrapping her in a hug. “Are you feeling okay?” At the sound of my voice, she broke down, her body wracked with sobs as she clung to me. “Mom, they all said you didn’t want me anymore,” she cried. “They tried to force me to sign the consent forms. When I refused, they locked me in the cellar. I tried to escape, but they caught me and chained me up. Mom, I was so scared… it hurts so much.” Her body trembled uncontrollably. I held her, stroking her back and murmuring reassurances. “Don’t be afraid, my love. I would give up the whole world before I gave up on you. And the people who hurt you… I won’t let a single one of them get away with it.” She finally calmed down, sipping the soup I’d brought. In that moment of peace, the hospital room door was thrown open. It was my husband, the man who had been unreachable all night. “Lorelei, on what authority did you freeze my cards? Do you have any idea how humiliating it was to have my payment declined in front of everyone last night?” Of course. The only thing that would get his attention was a lack of funds. I met his gaze calmly, trying to gesture for him to take the conversation outside. He ignored me. “You come back and turn the whole house upside-down. It was just a little spat between kids, and you had to escalate it and bring in your guards. Look at her, it’s just a few scratches. A private hospital, a private room… she’s not that fragile. Aurora was acting out, and Caspian was just teaching her a lesson. It’s no big deal. Drop it. And leave the kids alone.” That’s when I noticed Seraphina standing behind him. She was wearing the same white dress, her eyes were just as red, and the bruises from kneeling on the stone floor were still visible. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to fall, a picture of perfect, pitiable innocence. I glanced at her for a second before turning my attention back to my husband. “Sebastian, the girl in that bed is your daughter,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Your daughter was locked in a cellar and chained like an animal. You don’t care, fine. But now you’re siding with the people who hurt her? Do you have a single shred of conscience left?” My voice rose, and he flinched. It was Seraphina who spoke. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kaling. I’m sorry, Uncle Sebastian. I just wanted to apologize to Aurora. Since she doesn’t want to see me, I’ll just go. It’s all my fault. Maybe you never should have adopted me.” With that, two perfect tears rolled down her cheeks, and she turned and fled. Just then, Caspian and Julian appeared as if from nowhere, carrying a plastic bag with a few sad, shriveled apples. They saw Seraphina run past them in tears. Julian’s face contorted with rage as he glared at me. “What did Seraphina ever do to you? Why can’t the two of you just leave her alone? We came in good faith to visit Aurora, and here you are, tormenting her again.” Caspian slammed the bag of apples onto the floor. “Mrs. Kaling, if you’re going to continue to blindly side with your daughter and bully Seraphina, then don’t be surprised when we stop playing nice. When this family needs a man to take charge, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.” I looked at these two arrogant, delusional boys. I walked up and slapped them both, hard, across the face. “You think you’re even worthy of speaking to me?” They clutched their faces, their shock quickly turning to fury. Caspian strode forward and knocked the thermos of soup to the floor. Julian grabbed Aurora’s arm—the one with the IV—and started dragging her out of bed. “Stop faking it,” he snarled. “Get up. You’re going to go kneel before Seraphina and apologize. And you’re not getting up until she forgives you.” I saw the blood start to back up in Aurora’s IV tube. “Guards!” I screamed. “Get these animals out of here! If my daughter is hurt again, I swear I will destroy you all!” Fearing my shouts would bring my security team, Caspian clamped a hand over my mouth. “Uncle Sebastian, what are you waiting for? Help us! If her guards get here, we’re all finished!” The room descended into chaos. Sebastian, jolted into action, saw me struggling and helpless. He walked up and struck me across the face. The force of the blow snapped my head back, and my cheek instantly began to swell. “You dare freeze my cards?” he spat. “You think you’re so powerful? You’re just a woman, parading around, pretending to do business when everyone knows you’re sleeping your way to the top. You’re a whore, just like your mother.” The thought of my supposed infidelities seemed to enrage him further, and he hit me again, on the other side. “You gave me a useless daughter, and I’ve had to endure my friends’ mockery for years. Just hand over the company to me and stop making trouble. This is a man’s world. What can a bitch like you possibly do?” Aurora, pinned beneath Julian, saw what was happening and fought with all her might. “Don’t you touch my mother! Let her go!” As she was about to break free, Julian wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed. “You’re both sluts. If anything happens to Seraphina because she ran out of here upset, I’ll make you pay.” My daughter, already weak, gasped for air and passed out. My face was numb, swollen. I didn’t have the strength to speak. Seeing I was no longer a threat, Caspian released me. I slid to the floor in a heap. As he moved toward my unconscious daughter, I forced myself up, holding up my phone. The screen showed an active call. “You’d better let my daughter go,” I rasped. “My private security detail will be here any second. When they arrive, none of you will walk out of here.” As if on cue, the sound of screeching tires filled the air. Outside the window, a convoy of black SUVs pulled up, and a team of highly trained operatives began pouring out, heading for our room. I spat out a mouthful of blood and looked at their three ashen faces, a slow, grim smile spreading across my own. “I’ll give you back your own words. Kneel and apologize now. It might not be too late for you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385397”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My grandfather raised me on scraps, pulling me from the refuse of the world. I knew the bitter taste of poverty all too well. To marry into wealth, I armed myself with designer shopping bags bought from eBay and rented luxury purses for five dollars a day. My days were spent drifting through art galleries, my nights curled up in the waiting areas of five-star hotels. After six months of playing the part of a phantom heiress, a man finally approached me. It was him. The one I’d seen in Forbes last month: Michael Astor, the scion of a New York dynasty. I offered him a business card. Vivian Sterling. A painter signed with the Galerie Saint-Victor in Paris, and curator of the Sterling Gallery. He raised an eyebrow, then beckoned the gallery’s curator over. “Have this piece delivered to Miss Sterling’s home.” The painting Michael pointed to was marked at two million dollars. But before I could even process my elation, comments started scrolling across my vision, like a phantom social media feed only I could see. “The wannabe socialite is on the scene! I can’t wait to see the real heroine expose her.” “Go on, keep up the act! Serves her right for trying to seduce the male lead. She’ll learn her lesson once Michael ships her off to some grimy nightclub in Eastern Europe!” … After dinner with Michael, we were walking to the parking garage when we passed a massive Chanel display window. The soft glow of the lights caressed the latest season’s collection, and for a moment, it captured my entire soul. I turned my head, my feet halting. “Thank you for dinner,” I said, my voice pulling me back to reality. “My treat next time.” My gaze fell upon Michael, his hair slicked back, his face framed by thin, gold-rimmed glasses. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I was worried it might not be to your taste.” I faced him, walking backward slowly with my hands behind my back. “Oh, I used to go there all the time in Europe. After moving back to the States, I often found myself missing those days. I was surprised to see they’d opened a location here, so I had to bring you.” The phantom comments went wild with mockery. 【She spins lies so effortlessly! Europe? She only moved to New York last year. She doesn’t even have a passport!】 【The male lead is so gullible! She couldn’t afford a real Michelin-star place, so she took him to this prix-fixe joint. The whole meal barely cost her a hundred bucks!】 【Just wait, girls. Let’s see what other tall tales this gold digger can cook up!】 “Now I remember,” Michael said, a smile playing on his lips. “A friend took me to their flagship in Paris once. The line was a mile long, and by the time we got in, they were sold out of their signature beef and truffle burger. Thanks to you, I finally got to make up for a regret that’s haunted me for eight years.” We shared a knowing smile. He offered me his arm, and I slipped mine through it. Half an hour later, his car pulled up to a luxury high-rise on the Upper East Side. A doorman stepped forward, blocking our way. “Key card, please.” My heart hammered against my ribs as I fumbled through my handbag. After a long moment, the doorman’s patience wore thin. “Ma’am, this is a private residence. If you’re not a resident, you need to leave.” I shot Michael an embarrassed smile. “I can just get out here.” His gaze shifted from me to the doorman, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “What’s wrong with your security? You don’t even recognize your own residents?” “He must be new,” I stammered, “still learning the faces. It’s been a long night, thank you for everything. I can walk from here.” I reached for the door handle, but Michael locked it with a soft click. He turned to the doorman, his voice carrying an edge of authority. “Her name is Vivian Sterling. She’s a resident. I’m giving you three minutes to verify that, or you can be sure I’ll be filing a formal complaint.” The doorman eyed me warily before muttering into his walkie-talkie. 【Is she getting exposed this quickly?】 【Of course she is. The smallest unit in this building is 1,500 square feet and costs over ten million. No way she can afford that!】 【You have to admit, the girl’s got nerve. She’s got the Astor heir completely fooled!】 Sensing the moment was right, I pulled the key card from my coat pocket and flashed it at the doorman through the window. “My apologies,” I said smoothly. “I forgot I’d slipped it in my coat.” The doorman breathed a sigh of relief, offering me a respectful nod before waving us through. The car stopped in front of one of the towers, and Michael came around to open my door. “There’s an art gala next week,” he said as I stepped out. “Eleanor Davenport will be there. She’s also an alum of the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. You two would be classmates, in a way. I’m sure you’d have plenty to talk about. Would you like to go?” The threat of my lies unraveling set off alarm bells in my head. I made a vague excuse about checking my schedule with my assistant and managed to deflect. Back in my apartment, I opened my laptop and searched for everything I could find on Eleanor Davenport. Wife of the powerful Davenport family. Her father was a renowned literary figure from the early 20th century, her mother a famous attorney. She was accepted into the oil painting program at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris at sixteen and married into a family that held Washington’s economic strings at twenty-four. She was the real deal—the pinnacle of high society, the woman everyone wanted to impress. To her, a fraud like me would be as obvious as a cheap knock-off. One wrong word, and my entire facade would crumble. The room was dark. I stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, lighting a cigarette. When the cherry died out, I texted Michael back, confirming my attendance at the gala. The reason was simple. Money. After just three dates with Michael, I was already up nearly two million dollars. First, he gave me that two-million-dollar painting, which I discreetly sold for 1.8 million. Then, he gifted me a diamond bracelet, which I pawned for another two hundred thousand. The very apartment I was standing in was a temporary rental, paid for with Michael’s money. The phantom comments were right. I was a fake, a gold digger. Because I was terrified of being poor. I grew up an orphan, found in a dumpster by my grandfather, who raised me by collecting cans and scrap metal. I wore ill-fitting clothes and shoes pulled from the trash, and ate expired bread from grocery store dumpsters. My entire life, poverty had been a magnet for cruelty. If something went missing at school, I was always the first suspect. “Your grandfather even picks up old socks from the trash. Why wouldn’t you steal money?” “So we were wrong last time. That just makes it more likely you did it this time!” That was bad enough, but it got worse. As I hit puberty, my body began to change. The rumors changed with it. “Twenty bucks gets you a night with Vivian. Buy her a coffee in the morning and she’ll let you touch whatever you want. See how big her chest is? That’s how she paid for it.” Once, while I was waiting for a bus, a man pulled over. “You’re starting young, aren’t you? Hope you don’t have anything nasty.” If I was going to be harassed anyway, why not take control and aim for a rich man? So I came to New York, pooled all my money, and reinvented myself as a European-educated socialite. Even if the comments said I’d end up trafficked, so what? To me, there is nothing in this world more terrifying than poverty. Right now, whatever Michael’s motives were for inviting me, if I could actually connect with Eleanor Davenport, even the scraps from her table could set me up for life. Opportunity and risk always go hand in hand. You just have to be prepared. I spent the next three days studying Eleanor Davenport. She hated lilies but loved sandalwood. Her favorite artist was Séraphine Louis, her favorite classical piece Chopin’s Polonaises. By the time the gala arrived, I was ready. Mrs. Davenport gave a brief opening speech but spent the rest of the evening sitting alone in a corner, listening to the music. Several society wives attempted to approach her, only to be deterred by her formidable aura. I moved through the room on Michael’s arm, feeling the fiery glares of debutantes and heiresses. 【Here we go! The first showdown between the real heroine and the wannabe!】 【Ugh, this faker’s act is making me sick. Heroine, please crush her!】 【Our girl Bianca is the real deal! Once she gets Mrs. Davenport’s attention, this imposter is toast!】 As the comments scrolled, a woman dripping in jewels glided toward us, a champagne flute in her hand. “Michael, darling, you came to New York and didn’t even call me?” Her eyes flickered over to me. “And who is this? I don’t believe we’ve met. Which family’s darling might you be?” “This is Vivian Sterling,” Michael said smoothly. “She’s just returned from Europe. She’s a painter.” “Vivian, this is Bianca Vanderbilt, of Vanderbilt Corp. Bianca is very involved in philanthropy. You were saying you wanted to organize a charity exhibition? Perhaps you two could discuss it.” Bianca looked me up and down with a smirk. “Studied in Europe, you say? Which school?” “The École des Beaux-Arts in Paris.” She sniffed dismissively. “Well then, let’s hear some French!” Michael frowned. “Bianca, don’t be ridiculous.” “It’s alright,” I said, cutting Michael off with a gentle touch. I smiled and offered a few pleasantries in fluent, practiced French. Bianca seemed taken aback. “Wow, you’re actually good!” “Vivian is brilliant,” Michael added. “Her work has won numerous international awards.” “Then I’ll have to learn a thing or two from Miss Sterling!” Even though I was prepared, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my palm under Bianca’s sharp gaze. The awards were fabrications, easily disproven with a single search. I needed to escape. I made a quick excuse and slipped away. But when I came out of the restroom, Bianca was waiting for me. “Let’s drop the act,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “What’s your game, pretending to be a socialite to get close to Michael? Is it his money or his name you’re after?” I clenched my trembling hands into fists. “Miss Vanderbilt, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Your dress can’t be more than three grand, can it? You’re the most cheaply dressed woman here tonight.” “Let me give you a reality check. Michael came to New York to be set up with me. You and he are from different worlds. Stop dreaming. The poor should stick with the poor.” She pulled a wad of cash from her clutch and threw it at my feet. “I had my driver get cash just for this. Take it and get out. Don’t make me expose you in front of him.” 【YESSS, our heroine is so badass!】 【Look at the faker’s face! She looks like she just swallowed a fly. Hilarious!】 【Am I the only one who feels a little bad for her? She hasn’t stolen anything. Michael gave her all those gifts willingly. Does she really deserve this?】 【Are you serious? She’s a gold-digging liar! She deserves to be shamed!】 I picked up the money from the floor and walked back into the ballroom in a daze. The chatter around me felt like a power drill boring into my skull. Why? Why were they born with silver spoons while I had to be looked down upon for my humble origins? We were all human, but even a lifetime of my effort couldn’t get me to their starting line. Is it a crime to be poor? Is it a crime to want money? My eyes found Bianca, who was now fawning over Eleanor Davenport, obsequiously pouring her a cup of tea. Mrs. Davenport, however, looked bored, her face cold as she scrolled through her phone. I let out a bitter laugh, downed my champagne in one gulp, and strode toward them. Perhaps I was moving too fast. I stumbled, bumping into a waiter carrying a tray of red wine. The crimson liquid splashed all over my pristine white gown. Gasps erupted around me. The commotion finally drew Mrs. Davenport’s attention; she turned her head with mild curiosity. The waiter’s face was beet red as he stammered apologies. I touched the stain on my dress, then looked up at the event manager nearby. “Could you possibly bring me some chocolate sauce and a silver foil pen?” I dabbed the chocolate sauce around the edges of the wine stain, blending it softly, then used the silver pen to sketch delicate petals. Thank God for all those online art courses I’d taken to maintain my painter persona. The result was surprisingly decent. “Look at that,” someone whispered. “Her style… it’s a bit like Séraphine Louis!” “You’re right! It does have a hint of Séraphine!” Guests started to gather, murmuring praise. I turned my body slightly toward Mrs. Davenport. When I saw the hint of a smile on her face, I knew I had won. Just as I’d planned, ten minutes later, I was sitting across from Eleanor Davenport. “Causing a scene with a wine stain to get my attention,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “How very creative.” Before I could reply, Bianca materialized out of nowhere.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385396”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My wife and I have a wild side. One night, on a whim, we decided to do some role-playing at an exclusive nightclub. She was kneeling between my legs, her voluptuous figure in a French maid outfit brushing against my thighs. “Oh, sir,” she cooed, “won’t you take pity on me? Take me home?” Just then, a man pointed a finger at my wife and shouted, “I thought I had my pick of the models here. I want that one!” I quickly tried to explain. “Sir, you misunderstand, this is my—” He cut me off. “What do you mean, yours? She’s with me tonight. Get lost.” A staff member pulled me aside, whispering urgently, “That’s Preston Vance, the Vance family heir. I hear Isabelle Hawthorne, the Hawthorne heiress, is chasing after him. We can’t afford to cross him. Just let him have her. We’ll set you up with someone even better.” I looked at Isabelle. Her eyes were welling up with tears, and her lip trembled. “I didn’t do anything, darling,” she whispered, perfectly in character. … Isabelle and I had just wrapped up a major project at our company and were looking forward to a long, relaxing holiday weekend. Who could have predicted this? The man, Preston, was now berating a server. “Didn’t I tell you to bring any new talent to me first?” Then his gaze, slick with avarice, landed back on Isabelle. “Now this one… what a pretty face. And that body…” Isabelle quickly draped my suit jacket over her maid outfit, looking at me with wide, pleading eyes. “Sir, I don’t want to go with him. Please, you have to protect me.” She even ducked behind me for effect. I had to suppress a groan. She was really getting into this. We’ve always shared a taste for the theatrical—doctor and patient, boss and secretary, cop and criminal… no scenario was off-limits. I just never thought we’d be so convincing that someone would actually mistake us. Isabelle and I exchanged a look. I cleared my throat. “My good sir,” I began, “I believe I was here first. There’s a certain etiquette to these things. Besides, the young lady clearly isn’t interested in your company. Perhaps after I’ve had my fun…” Isabelle pinched me hard from behind. Preston tossed his head back, his voice dripping with contempt. “Who the hell do you think you are? In Miami, if a coin drops from the sky, it lands in a Vance’s pocket. Got it? I don’t care. She’s serving me tonight.” With that, he pulled out a thick wad of cash and slapped it across Isabelle’s face. A red welt immediately appeared on her cheek. “Come with me, sweetheart,” he sneered. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll triple it.” Isabelle’s expression darkened for a split second. No one, besides me, had ever dared to be so insolent to her. Her knuckles turned white—a telltale sign she was about to lose her temper. I was afraid she’d blow our cover. We’d agreed to keep a low profile on this trip, bringing nothing that would identify us, just wanting to enjoy some time alone. If the paparazzi caught Isabelle Hawthorne, the sole heiress to the Hawthorne global empire, in a sexy maid outfit at a nightclub, her father’s blood pressure would skyrocket. I quickly stepped in front of her, stroking her hair soothingly. Before I could speak, Preston shoved me hard. “Get lost, you little punk, before I make you disappear from Miami by morning. Bodyguards! Throw him out. I’m having this woman tonight.” The onlookers seemed unfazed, whispering among themselves. “Damn, that guy must be from out of town. Trying to steal a girl from Preston Vance? He’s got a death wish.” “He’s finished. The Vances run this city. He won’t see the sunrise tomorrow.” My mind raced. The Vances of Miami? I was aware of them, but I didn’t recall their influence being quite so absolute. “I’d like to see you try,” I said, my voice low and cold, stopping the advancing bodyguards in their tracks. It was a tone accustomed to command, and for a moment, the large men hesitated. Preston just laughed, more arrogant than ever. He reached out and tipped Isabelle’s chin up. “Fine, I won’t touch him,” he purred. “You spend the night with me. You please me, and I’ll let him go. Otherwise… well, you know what happens.” Isabelle’s face was glacial. She jerked her head away, but that only seemed to fuel Preston’s desire to conquer her. He blew a ring of smoke in her face. “A spicy one, are we? Does your family know you do this for a living?” My lips twitched. If they knew, all hell would break loose. Playing the hero, I stepped between them again. “Who are you? She’s the top girl here. You’ll have to get in line.” Preston looked outraged, as if I’d uttered the highest form of blasphemy. He reached to pull Isabelle toward him. She let out a theatrical gasp, as if truly terrified. “Sir, save me!” We were both deep in the performance now. I swept my arm out, pulling Isabelle into my embrace. “I’d like to see anyone try and take her from me tonight.” Preston was practically hyperventilating with rage. He snapped at the club manager. “Find out when she was hired. How can she be so insubordinate?” The manager returned a moment later, looking flustered. “Sir… it appears she doesn’t work for us.” Preston smirked. “Well, she does now.” He grew more animated, barking orders at the manager. “Since she’s not on your payroll, sign her up. Take her for training. Teach her properly how to please her master.” The manager wiped sweat from his brow, bowing obsequiously as he produced a file. I glanced at it. It was a detailed profile of Preston Vance’s… particular sexual preferences and favorite positions. The content was so graphic I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. “Mr. Vance,” I said dryly, “you certainly know yourself well.” Isabelle, looking disgusted, snatched the paper, tore it to shreds, and threw it in the trash. “Mr. Vance, I have no interest in knowing any of that.” She muttered a curse in French, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. I glanced at my watch. We were scheduled to attend a financial summit later tonight. There was no more time to play games with this fool. Opting for the path of least resistance, I decided to tell him the truth. “Mr. Vance, we’re husband and wife. We’re just tourists here, and what you saw was just a bit of private fun between us.” Preston scoffed. “Spare me the bullshit. I don’t care what your relationship is. I saw her, I want her. There’s never been a woman I couldn’t have.” His threats were so empty they were almost laughable. “Mr. Vance, this is kidnapping. There are security cameras everywhere. Are you not afraid of us calling the police?” At the mention of the police, he became even more brazen. “Go ahead. Even if they show up, you think they’ll take your side?” He gestured to his bodyguards, who moved to pull us apart. He had the manager shove another document at my wife, then grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head down to look at it. “Study up,” he hissed. “We’ll be putting this to practice tonight. Ditch this pathetic loser and stick with me. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied every single night. But you know the rules—no drama in front of the Hawthorne heiress. You know how she’s dying to be with me.” A sudden, intense chill emanated from Isabelle. She slowly lifted her head, her eyes like chips of ice. “Satisfied every night? That sounds interesting. I just wonder, Mr. Vance, if you’ll live long enough to enjoy it.” Preston was taken aback, his hand instinctively loosening its grip on her hair. He even took a half-step back. I poked his arm, my face a mask of curiosity. “Mr. Vance, are you referring to Isabelle Hawthorne, from the Hawthorne family?” He snapped back to his senses, his confidence returning. He puffed out his chest. “Of course. Look, this is the token of her love she gave me.” I followed his gaze. A sapphire ring the size of a robin’s egg glittered on a chain around his neck, looking almost identical to the one on my own finger. He noticed my ring and sneered. “Your fake is pretty convincing. But I hate it when people copy my things.” A vicious look entered his eyes. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. Isabelle struggled against the bodyguards holding her, but they were professionals. Two more guards pinned me as Preston crudely ripped the ring from my finger and tossed it into a nearby drain grate. I slowly raised my hand, rubbing the red marks on my wrist, a cold smile playing on my lips. That ring was custom-designed by Isabelle herself. She’d gone through more than a dozen sketches to finalize the design. The flawless blue sapphire at its center was one she’d acquired at auction for an eight-figure sum. I never took it off unless absolutely necessary. But some people just love to stare down the barrel of a gun. I sighed. “Mr. Vance, you couldn’t afford to replace that ring if you sold your entire family’s company.” Preston’s smile widened. “It’s just a knockoff, you peasant. Tell her to stay, and I’ll toss you a couple hundred for your trouble.” Isabelle stopped struggling, her eyes fixed in disbelief on the drain. That ring was a symbol of our love. She’d get upset if I even took it off to shower. Preston chuckled, picking up a glass of red wine and pouring it over Isabelle’s head. “Imagine, someone imitating the ring my Isabelle gave me. That’s the limit of your pathetic world.” “Stop looking for it. Be my woman, and I’ll buy you a hundred real gemstone rings.” Isabelle looked up, her eyes blazing with a crimson fury. She slapped the glass from his hand. I had never seen her lose her composure like this. “I don’t know who this ‘Hawthorne heiress’ you speak of is,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “But I am the sole heir to the Hawthorne family.” Preston just laughed, his eyes roaming over her wine-soaked dress. “Alright, sweetheart, anyone can pretend to be a Hawthorne. You must hate me, right? Why don’t you take it out on me in bed?” Then, another thought seemed to strike him. He ordered his men to tie her up. “I only want children born from Hawthorne blood. To prevent any accidents, you’re going to have a little procedure done right now. A sterilization.” Isabelle’s voice was low, steady, and colder than death. “Mr. Vance, I’ll warn you one last time. I am Isabelle Hawthorne. You should let us go. Now.” Preston waved a dismissive hand. “Sure, sure, whatever you say.” He grabbed her hand and forced her thumbprint onto a binding contract. “There. Black and white. You’re mine now. Try to break it, and you’ll be paying a hefty penalty.” Isabelle radiated pure frustration. “Mr. Vance, the Vance Corporation has been struggling to innovate for years, hasn’t it? Does your father really let you run wild like this?” Preston’s eyebrow shot up. “So what? The Hawthorne heiress and I are practically engaged. My father will definitely secure her investment at the summit tonight.” Isabelle laughed, a chilling sound. “I imagine the summit is in complete chaos right about now.” I glanced nervously at the clock on the wall. “What do we do now?” I asked her in French. She shook her head, her voice devoid of emotion. “The gala can’t start without us. The guests will be arriving soon. I’ve already given instructions. Someone will be here for us shortly.” I checked my watch. We really had to go. It wouldn’t do to keep our guests waiting. We truly had no more time to waste on this madman. Preston’s shrill voice interrupted us as he yanked Isabelle’s head around. “What gibberish are you two speaking?” I mustered my remaining patience. “Mr. Vance, we’re in a hurry. There are a lot of people waiting for our investment at the Miami Gala. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.” He looked at me like I was insane. “Are you crazy? The Hawthorne family is hosting the financial summit tonight. You can lie to me, but don’t start believing your own delusions. You really think you’re Isabelle Hawthorne?” They bound Isabelle and put tape over her mouth, preparing to drag her to a back-alley clinic for the procedure. I pulled out my phone, quickly snapped a photo, and sent it to a group chat. “Anyone want to claim their lost puppy? The gala is delayed. Isabelle is currently… indisposed.” Before I could get a reply, Preston slapped the phone from my hand. It shattered on the floor. “You little piece of trash,” he sneered. “Calling for backup? Not even God can help you now. Don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of her from now on.” He started to lead Isabelle away, pausing to pat his hands together with satisfaction and shoot me a triumphant look. “Once she’s been… cleaned up, she’ll be all mine.” My expression didn’t change. “Preston Vance,” I repeated, “she is the sole heir of the Hawthorne family. If a single hair on her head is harmed, the Hawthornes will not let you go.” He laughed contemptuously. “Still talking tough. You’ve got a death wish, impersonating the Hawthorne heiress.” I looked him straight in the eye. “You should let us go now. Our people are about to arrive.” Preston roared with laughter. “You just can’t stop pretending, can you? Were you two born in a dumpster? Because you’re full of trash.” At that exact moment, a series of crisp, coordinated footsteps echoed from the entrance. Everyone turned to look. A phalanx of men in black custom-tailored suits appeared as if from nowhere, swiftly securing every exit in the corridor. Someone in the crowd gasped. “Oh my god, isn’t that the Hawthorne security detail? I’ve only ever seen them in the news.” “That’s them! Look at the crest on their jackets. That’s the elite team that only serves the core members of the Hawthorne family.” Preston was startled at first, but then his face broke into a massive, triumphant grin. He waved at the imposing woman being escorted at the center of the detail. “Darling, I’m over here! Quick, get rid of this troublesome man for me.” The woman’s face froze in confusion. “Preston? What are you doing here?” Then, another cry went up from the crowd. Outside, a fleet of hundreds of luxury cars was pulling up, a river of polished chrome and tinted windows. A helicopter was descending onto the rooftop. It was every single VIP guest scheduled to attend the gala. After all, everyone wanted to see who was audacious enough to delay the Hawthornes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385395”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Coming home late from work, I found my apartment building on fire. I immediately started rushing upstairs. A couple from the floor below grabbed me, their faces streaked with tears. “Our daughter is still up there!” the woman cried, pleading. “Please, you have to save her!” I ran to my apartment, grabbed my dog, and carried him back downstairs. When they saw me, the couple rushed forward. “Where’s our daughter?” I just looked at them coldly. “I went back for my dog.” They stared in disbelief. “You saved a dog… instead of our daughter?” “That’s right.” 1 The two words left my lips, calm and matter-of-fact, and a sudden silence fell over the crowd. My neighbor, Mark, was a mess of shock and fury. He stared at me, looking as if he couldn’t hear or couldn’t comprehend, at a total loss for words. His wife, Brenda, was the first to snap. Her voice became a shrill shriek. “What did you just say? Are you even human? That’s my daughter’s life in there! And you saved a filthy animal?” She sobbed and cursed, trying to lunge at me, but was held back by bystanders. The venom in her eyes could have burned me alive. I set down Max, my German Shepherd, and met Mark’s gaze. “She’s your daughter. Why didn’t you bring her with you when you ran for your life? Now you’re expecting a stranger to do it?” His eyes darted away, unable to meet mine. Mark’s gaze fell on my dog, and his anger flared anew. “But you already went up there! That’s a human life! You couldn’t have just grabbed her on your way out? Is your heart made of stone?” His words ignited the surrounding crowd. Murmurs turned into open condemnation. “That’s just cold-blooded…” “A dog is important, sure, but you can’t compare it to a child.” “She was already there! What would it have cost her to help? She’s a monster!” I ignored them all, stroking the top of Max’s head. “To me, my dog is my family. In a fire, I save my family. What’s wrong with that?” I looked at Mark, his face a mask of rage, and added pointedly, “As for other people’s family… who’s to say they really needed me to save them?” Mark’s pupils constricted. Brenda’s wails grew louder, sobs wracking her body as she repeated, “My daughter, my poor daughter… how can this be happening?” Her heartbroken cries swayed the crowd. A middle-aged man shouted, “Lady, if he won’t do it, I will!” A few people started toward the building, but I took a step to the side, blocking the entrance with Max at my heel. A low, menacing growl rumbled in Max’s chest. The sight of his powerful German Shepherd frame and sharp, focused eyes stopped the would-be rescuers in their tracks. “Get out of the way! Are you insane?” the man in the lead roared, his face turning beet red. “There’s a child’s life at stake!” “What is wrong with you? You won’t save her, and you won’t let anyone else either?” an older woman chimed in, her voice shrill with contempt. The crowd was a powder keg, their accusations and curses threatening to swallow me whole. I just said one thing. “Wait for the fire department.” Someone tried to get around me, but Max shifted his position, his growl deepening into a terrifying snarl. He bared his teeth, and the man froze. “The state of the fire is unknown,” I said flatly. “You have no idea what’s going on in there. Rushing in like this—are you trying to help, or are you trying to get yourselves killed?” My calm logic only fanned the flames of their fury. “We can’t just stand here and watch a child burn!” “She’s worth more than your damn dog!” “It’ll be too late by the time the firefighters get here!” I repeated myself, my voice unwavering. “I said, wait for the fire department.” My cold, unyielding attitude completely enraged them, but Max’s presence kept them at bay. Then, someone turned to the pale-faced couple. “Mark, Brenda, did you two have some kind of fight with her before this? Why is she targeting you like this?” Brenda looked up, her eyes swimming in tears. “I swear on my life, we’ve barely even spoken to her! A nod in the hallway is the most we’ve ever exchanged! My… my daughter loves animals. She saw her walking the dog once and even gave the dog a piece of her own candy! Such a sweet, kind little girl…” Her voice broke, and she dissolved into tears again, the very picture of a grieving mother. Her words struck a chord, and the crowd’s glares intensified. Listening to her, I remembered the image of a small, shy girl holding out a piece of hard candy. The way she’d looked at Max, her eyes had been shining. I nodded slowly. “That’s right. Before tonight’s fire, we had no history. And I admit, I ate the candy your daughter gave me. It was very sweet.” My admission stunned everyone into silence. Mark shrieked, “You knew that, and you still acted like such a monster? You’ll get what’s coming to you! Now get out of the way! Let this kind man go save my daughter!” He pointed at the man who had first volunteered. I looked at the man, who was flexing his hands, ready to go. “I’ll ask again,” I said coldly. “As her parents, why aren’t you the ones going in?” Under the glare of dozens of eyes, Mark’s face went white. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He glanced around frantically, then suddenly clutched his stomach and doubled over with a loud groan. “Oh, my stomach! The pain is killing me… must be the stress.” Brenda reacted instantly, rushing to support him. “Honey! What’s wrong? Don’t scare me! We’re going through enough already…” The two of them became a tableau of tragic, star-crossed lovers. Their performance reignited the crowd’s sympathy. “Take it easy, Mark, your health is what’s important!” “He must be sick with worry over his little girl!” I gently patted Max’s head to quiet him, my gaze fixed on the street beyond the couple. I could faintly hear the wail of sirens. They heard it too. Mark and Brenda exchanged a look of sheer panic. Brenda moved with lightning speed, throwing herself at the feet of the man who’d wanted to be a hero. “Sir, please!” she shrieked. “Kind sir, please! The fire trucks will be too late! You have to go now! My daughter is on the eighth floor! Please, there’s no time!” Mark, grimacing through his “pain,” straightened up and yelled to the crowd, “Everyone, please help us! Drag this crazy woman and her beast away! Let this man go save our daughter! We can’t just let her die! We’re begging you!” Spurred by his words and the sight of Brenda groveling on the ground, a few young men clenched their jaws and started toward me. Someone even picked up a rock from the ground, trying to intimidate the growling Max. “All of you, stop right there!” My sharp command froze them in place. “Mark, Brenda! You claim to be so desperate to save your daughter, so why haven’t you taken a single step toward that building since this fire started?” “You’d rather stand out here crying, kneeling, and faking illnesses to send a stranger to their death than run in there to save your own flesh and blood?” “The fire department is here! Professional help is seconds away! Yet you’re pushing, like you have a death wish for someone, forcing a neighbor who knows nothing into the heart of the blaze at its most dangerous point?” My voice turned to ice. “Are you desperate to save your daughter… or are you desperate to destroy something inside that apartment? Or maybe… you’re afraid of what the firefighters might find if they go up there?” The neighbors who’d been ready to attack me stopped dead, their faces shifting to confusion and suspicion. They were right. From the very beginning, the parents’ behavior had been completely bizarre. I saw the color drain from Mark’s face, sweat pouring down his temples. A vicious glint appeared in his eyes. He yanked Brenda close and whispered something urgently in her ear. At first, she shook her head in terror, but under his murderous glare, she gave a sharp, decisive nod. Mark immediately turned back to the crowd. “Fine! We’ll go! My body’s failing me, so my wife will go! Is that good enough for you? She’ll go up and get our daughter herself! You can’t stop her now, can you?” The crowd murmured their agreement. “Yeah, it’s only right for the mother to go.” “Now you have nothing to say, right? Let her pass!” With everyone watching, I had no reason to stop a mother from saving her own child. I silently pulled Max to the side, clearing a path, but my eyes were locked on Brenda. She took a deep breath, avoiding my gaze, and rushed head-down into the smoke-filled stairwell. The screech of fire truck brakes echoed behind me. Firefighters swarmed out, efficiently laying out hoses. The captain, a man I’ll call Miller, immediately found the building manager. “What’s the situation? How many people are confirmed trapped inside?” The manager, wiping sweat from his brow, stammered, “Based on our records, apartment 8B, the Miller family, has a young daughter who should be home. Oh, and just now, just a second ago, the girl’s mother ran up to get her!” Before he could finish, a figure stumbled out of the building’s entrance. It was Brenda. She had gone in and come back with astonishing speed, with barely a smudge of soot on her. She wore a mask of forced relief, waving her hands frantically at Captain Miller and the manager. “Sorry, false alarm!” she said, her voice rushed. “My mistake! Sir, Manager, I’m so sorry! I was in such a panic, I got confused! My daughter went to her grandmother’s this afternoon! She’s not in there. The building is empty!” The manager stared. “She’s gone? So you’re confirming, there’s no one left inside?” “No one! Definitely no one!” Brenda repeated, her eyes darting around, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. This sudden reversal left everyone completely bewildered. The mother who had been sobbing, kneeling, and begging for her daughter’s life was now casually saying the girl had been gone all along. “She’s lying!” I shouted. “Captain Miller, she’s lying! I saw her daughter in that apartment with my own eyes! She was in and out of the eighth floor in less than two minutes. There’s no way she even went up there!” Mark jumped as if he’d been electrocuted. “I already told you, no one is in there! What is wrong with you? Why can’t you just let it go?” Brenda caught on immediately, turning on the waterworks again. “Officer, you be the judge! I was terrified, and halfway up I remembered she wasn’t home! But this woman… she went up and only saved her dog! She wouldn’t save my daughter! When this kind man and other neighbors tried to help, she set her dog on them! Now I’m telling you my daughter is safe, and she’s still spewing these lies! Is she just trying to cause trouble for us?” Her words reignited the crowd’s anger. “Exactly! The mother said she’s not there. What’s her problem?” “She must be some kind of psychopath, getting off on other people’s misery.” “The firefighters are here! Stop causing trouble!” I repeated my claim. “Your daughter was lying on the floor. I saw her.” At this, a young firefighter couldn’t hold back. He looked at me sternly. “Ma’am, if you’re certain you saw a little girl in there, why didn’t you rescue her at the time?” I looked straight at him. “It wasn’t necessary. I had to save my dog.” A wave of shock and disgust rolled through the crowd. Even the experienced Captain Miller frowned deeply. “She’s a lunatic! A complete sociopath!” “Someone should lock her up!” “Call the cops! Someone call the cops and have her arrested!” a man yelled furiously. Amid the calls for my head, I nodded calmly. “Good idea.” My voice was terrifyingly serene. “Thank you for the reminder. That’s exactly what I was about to do.” I pulled out my phone. “No! Don’t call the police!” Mark screamed, his voice cracking. Brenda lunged for my phone, but a ferocious roar from Max sent her stumbling back. She waved her hands frantically at the firefighters and the crowd. “No, don’t! She’s… she’s just not well, a little delusional! There’s no need to call the police, it’s a waste of resources! It’s nothing, just a neighborhood dispute!” The look in Captain Miller’s eyes changed completely. He raised a hand to silence Brenda. His professional instincts were screaming that something was very, very wrong. He gestured to the young firefighter who had questioned me. “Kenny! Get up to 8B, now. Check it out.” Without hesitation, I dialed 911. When I hung up, Mark and Brenda were ashen-faced, their bodies trembling uncontrollably with a fear that seemed to come from their very bones. Captain Miller’s gaze swept over the three of us. Experience told him exactly what to do. He spoke into his radio, his voice firm. “Kenny! I want you on the eighth floor, east unit, now! Pay close attention to the scene. Search every corner, especially anywhere a person could be hidden!” Kenny, mask in place, charged into the building. “Captain!” Kenny’s voice crackled over the radio. “Found her. Living room of 8B.” Everyone held their breath. “What’s her condition?” Miller demanded. “Assess and report, now!” There was a pause, and then Kenny’s voice, tight with emotion. “Captain… the little girl shows no vital signs.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385394”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 As the head chef, I didn’t think it was a big deal to skip chopping vegetables for one day. The general manager, however, saw it differently. He flew into a rage and threatened to fire me on the spot. I told him he’d need the owner’s approval for that. He just sneered. “I’m the general manager. What’s the big deal about firing a slacker head chef? When I say you’re out, you’re out!” I took off my chef’s hat and dialed my wife’s number. “I’m about to be fired. Did you know?” … “I know,” she said, her voice strained. “But I told them it was a… a staffing adjustment. They must have misunderstood.” I hung up. It was clear. This arrogant manager was acting on her orders. He watched me end the call, a smug, triumphant look on his face. “What’s the matter? The owner not on your side this time? If I were you, I’d just crawl out of here with my tail between my legs.” “How dare you speak to him like that?” Before I could say a word, one of my apprentices stepped forward, and the others quickly followed. “Our master is the head chef! His job is to oversee the kitchen, not do prep work! What do you know about it? Who do you think you are, talking to him like that?” “Yeah! What the hell do you know? Can you even cook?” The manager’s face darkened as he looked at the young, defiant chefs. “Shut up! Who gave you permission to speak? Bunch of troublemakers, forming your little gang. You’re lucky I’m not firing all of you! You think you can stand up to me?” “You—!” My youngest apprentice started to surge forward again. I grabbed his arm, shaking my head at his wounded expression. “It’s fine,” I told all of them. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t do anything rash.” The front-of-house manager, a smarmy yes-man who always had a smile on his face, stepped up. He wasn’t as harsh as the GM, but he loved to kick a man when he was down. “Come on, Leo,” he said soothingly. “There are other fish in the sea. Besides, we all got here because of the owner, right? When you’ve fallen out of favor, you just have to accept it.” “Is that so?” I shot back. “How did you get here?” He had always been beneath me, and now he was reveling in my downfall. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped, his friendly mask dropping. I stood tall, meeting everyone’s gaze, and took a long look around the kitchen where I had worked for five years. “Let’s be clear,” I said, my voice ringing with authority. “The Phoenix Court is what it is today because of me. And I’m telling you all right now, when I walk out that door, this restaurant is finished.” My apprentices murmured their agreement behind me. The GM and the front-of-house manager just laughed, a long, derisive sound. “Leo, you’ve got a big ego,” the GM sneered. “Let me tell you something. The Phoenix Court won’t miss you one bit. The owner made this decision, and I’m sure she has her reasons.” “Does she?” I muttered. If my wife, anette, truly had her own reasons, she wouldn’t have made me head chef in the first place. The restaurant’s success was built entirely on my reputation. But now, it was clear she was just a shortsighted businesswoman with no real vision. Even if she was my wife. As the tension in the kitchen reached a breaking point, a man walked in, a wide smile on his face, completely unfazed by the hostile atmosphere. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I’m Victor, the new head chef replacing Leo. I’m sure you all know who I am.” I had to laugh. Of course, I knew him. An old acquaintance. Victor had been a guest chef at The Phoenix Court a few times for special banquets, mostly handling Western dishes. We had collaborated, briefly. Everyone present knew him, but no one expected him to be my replacement. I looked him up and down. “Well, well, Chef Victor. A French-trained chef taking over the hottest Chinese restaurant on the block. Aren’t you brave?” My apprentices snickered behind me. “What’s a Western chef doing here? Does he even know how to use a cleaver?” “Exactly. He probably can’t even do a decorative cut, and he’s the head chef.” Victor’s face hardened. “Leo, it doesn’t matter if you like it or not. This is the owner’s decision. She wants to move away from traditional Chinese cuisine and create a global, fusion menu.” He paused, lifting his chin at me. “Your style is old news. And when she tells you to get lost, you get lost.” “Is that right?” I scoffed. “Are you so eager to say all that because it’s what the owner really wants, or is it because of your old flame? You know the truth.” My smile vanished, and the air in the room grew heavy. Victor’s face paled. He was Annette’s first love. Five years ago, The Phoenix Court was failing. Annette’s grandfather, a proud old man, had called on an old army buddy for a favor—my grandfather, the heir to a line of imperial chefs. My grandfather was too old to help, so he sent me instead. To seal the deal, Annette’s grandfather had even arranged for us to be married. Annette and Victor were forced to break up. I heard she’d fought it for a while, but when I asked her if she wanted to back out, she didn’t seem to have any regrets. In fact, she seemed willing. I thought she had moved on, so I agreed to try and build a life with her. But looking at them now, it was obvious. Their flame had never died. And I was utterly disappointed in Annette. Five years in the same bed… even without love, there should have been some affection. But she had cast me aside without a second thought. I looked at Victor. “Are you sure you want this job?” Before he could answer, Annette herself swept into the kitchen, dressed in a designer trench coat and high heels. She went straight to Victor and took his arm, a faint smile on her red lips. “I’m sure,” she said. Before I could speak, she continued, her voice defiant. “I heard what you said from the hallway, Leo. Since you know, there’s no point in hiding it. I’m still in love with Victor. I was never in love with you.” I saw the managers’ faces light up with schadenfreude. “Marrying you was just a way to save the restaurant,” Annette went on. “As the eldest daughter of the family, my duty is done. Now I have the right to pursue my own happiness.” I was so stunned by her brazenness that I started to laugh, a harsh, angry sound. My fists were clenched so tight my knuckles cracked. “Fine,” I said. “Does your grandfather know about you pursuing your happiness?” Annette flinched, but her bravado returned. “My grandfather is old. He doesn’t involve himself in the business anymore. Don’t you dare use him to threaten me, Leo. I can make my own decisions now.” “Alright, didn’t you hear the owner?” the GM chimed in. “She said get lost!” “Just go, Leo,” the other manager added with a sneer. “Why keep fighting for something that was never yours? Don’t be pathetic.” Just as I was about to lose my temper, Victor spoke, his voice dripping with triumph. “Leo, you were nothing but a dog to the family. Now that you’re no longer useful, of course they’re going to kick you out.” “What did you say?” I lunged forward, grabbing him by the collar. Before anyone could react, my fist connected with his jaw. Victor cried out in pain. Annette screamed, grabbing my wrist. “Leo! What are you doing? Are you insane? This is not your place to cause trouble!” I turned to look at the woman I had spent five years of my life with. My heart felt like it was being torn apart. She had stood by and said nothing while everyone else insulted me, but the moment Victor took one punch, she was full of concern. “Let him go! What is wrong with you? Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?” she shrieked. I suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. I released my grip on Victor, my voice hoarse. “Annette, I’m asking you one last time. In all these five years, did you ever have any feelings for me at all?” She rushed to Victor’s side, fussing over him. He wiped a trickle of blood from his nose and started toward me. “Who the hell do you think you are? Just a used-up mutt getting arrogant!” “Victor, stop!” Annette knew my temper. She knew if he came at me again, I wouldn’t hold back. She pulled him back, then looked at me, her face set. “That’s right, Leo. I never loved you.” And just like that, the fire inside me died out. I was completely and utterly done. “Fine.” I ripped the chef’s emblem off my uniform and threw it in the trash. “I’ll see you at the courthouse tomorrow. You two can have each other.” A wave of triumph washed over their faces. They looked like they were on top of the world. I was filled with a cold rage. My apprentices were furious. “Why, Master? Why should you be the one to leave when they’re the ones sneaking around?” “Master, if you go, I’m going with you!” Annette’s face soured as she watched them. “What is this, a rebellion? Don’t you forget who signs your paychecks!” Her threat did nothing. If anything, it made them angrier. I just laughed at her inability to command their respect. “It’s alright, everyone,” I said to my apprentices. “Don’t be rash. You have families to support. Thank you for everything. I hope we’ll have a chance to work together again someday. The world is a small place.” A few of them, the ones I was closest to, had tears in their eyes. I had trained them all myself over the past five years. “Are you done with the goodbyes?” the GM barked. “Get out! Before I throw you out myself!” My apprentices looked furious, but they were powerless. They could only watch as I walked out, the sound of Annette’s and her cronies’ laughter following me. I gathered my things and walked out the main entrance. I looked back at the sign one last time. I knew I was done with The Phoenix Court forever. We rose together, and we would fall together. I’d like to see how long Annette could keep the place running without me. The next day, Annette and Victor met me at the courthouse to finalize the divorce. She was dressed to the nines, her face perfectly made up. I was much calmer than I had been the day before. The process was quick and smooth. We walked out of the building without a word and went our separate ways. That same day, Annette held a grand welcoming ceremony for Victor. “A warm welcome to the new head chef of The Phoenix Court! We promise better dishes and more impeccable service in the future. We invite all our valued customers, new and old, to hold us to it!” I saw the video, saw her gushing over Victor and making her empty promises. I just smirked and turned it off. That night, Victor sent me a picture of a hotel room key card, along with a taunting voice message. “Admit it, Leo. You lost.” I didn’t reply. I took a screenshot, then blocked both of them. What Annette didn’t know was that while she was celebrating, my phone had been ringing off the hook. Calls from every major Chinese restaurant in the country, all offering me the position of head chef. I turned them all down. I had my own plans, and they were already in motion. Two weeks later, Annette and Victor stormed into my new establishment, their faces contorted with rage. “Leo! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385393”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel