Author: Momo Chan

My best friend and I were transported to a post-apocalyptic world where women were a vanishing species. Here, the men gave us the best food and protected us with their lives. After a while, my friend didn’t want to go back. “This is paradise,” she said. But as I watched the men who guarded us day and night, a chill crept down my spine. I knew that no kindness in this world comes without a price. And I knew that no matter the era, the male’s primary instinct is to reproduce. 1 By the time I fully grasped our situation, the Enforcers had already slipped inside the apartment Vivian and I shared. There were eight of them. Clad in black uniforms, they stood like shadows in the dim light—young, silent, and cold as ice. After a long moment, two of them broke away from the group and headed toward our separate bedrooms. I feigned sleep, my heart hammering against my ribs, praying it was just a routine patrol. But a cold dread in my gut told me otherwise. They were here to make us conceive. I’d overheard the doctors that morning during our physical examinations. “Their physical condition is extraordinary. The Citadel hasn’t seen specimens this healthy in twenty years.” “We’ve already identified eight candidates with high genetic compatibility.” “If all goes well, we’ll have new life by this time next year.” “God has finally shown us mercy.” There had been other women at the examination, so I hadn’t realized they were talking about Vivian and me. After the check-up, we were moved to this place—the Spire, the only building in the Citadel with a view of the world outside the walls. On the table, alongside our daily rations of beef, milk, and bread, were two perfect, gleaming apples—a luxury reserved for the Citadel’s elite. The common citizens scraped by on corn and sweet potatoes. Though Vivian and I were classified as civilians when we arrived, we were given these precious foods. I knew the Citadel operated under a strict system of apocalyptic rationing: you get what you give. We were receiving something precious, which meant we were expected to give something precious in return. Vivian and I had nothing. Nothing but our bodies. Vivian picked up her glass of milk, as she always did, and stood by the window, gazing out at the vast, desolate landscape. The sunlight bathed her, making her fair skin glow. She looked like an angel, pure and serene. I just stared at the food, my stomach churning with anxiety. “What’s wrong?” Vivian asked, her brow furrowed with concern. I told her what I’d overheard. “This place is a nightmare, Viv. We have to find a way back home. Fast.” She was silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “Chloe… is it really so bad here?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Bad? The apocalypse had raged for a century. The ecosystem was shattered, the climate hostile, food was scarce, and the walking dead roamed the earth. This place was hell. But she continued, “Here, we have food and shelter. We don’t have to worry about finding a job, or paying off a mortgage. No one hurts us. Everyone cares for us, looks after us. For me… this is a paradise.” I shook my head. “No kindness comes without a price, Viv. There’s always a reason, always a cost. Women are rare here. Our bodies, our wombs—that’s the price.” Vivian brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “But Chloe,” she said quietly, “back home, didn’t we have to give our bodies and our fertility, too?” 2 The man entered my room and stopped at the foot of my bed. I recognized him. His name was Jax. The son of the Citadel’s former Commander. The coldest, most ruthless Enforcer. Rumor had it he’d killed his own parents when he was just ten. The first time I saw him, I was struck by his looks. The next second, the barrel of his gun was pressed against my forehead. Vivian and I had been at an amusement park when a sinkhole opened up beneath us. I was still wearing my gray-blue contacts from that day. Gray-blue eyes. The mark of the Infected. Jax had mistaken me for one of them. The misunderstanding was cleared up, but he never stopped despising me. Hated me for being a human who would decorate her eyes in the color of the enemy. Yet, the Citadel had assigned him to be our guardian. He was a man of absolute discipline; he followed his orders, even if it meant protecting someone he loathed. The feeling was mutual. Plenty of people in the Citadel hated him. They called the Enforcers the dogs of the elite, and Jax was the most loyal, most vicious of the pack. He stood there, a silent silhouette. I heard the metallic click as he unbuckled his belt. I was right. He was here for the Pairing. I dropped the pretense of sleep and sat up, pressing the small knife I’d hidden to my throat. “Get out,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Or I’ll die right in front of you.” I had sharpened the blade myself. My hand trembled slightly, and the edge bit into my skin. A warm trickle of blood traced a path down my neck. I was gambling. Gambling that he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let me die. It worked. Jax froze. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, as if I wasn’t supposed to be awake. The milk. I hadn’t drunk my milk. Vivian, not wanting it to go to waste, had drunk mine too. That’s why she was already sound asleep. They had drugged us. And right now, another man was in her room. “I said get out,” I repeated, pressing the knife harder. “Take all of them with you.” But in a blur of motion, he snatched the knife from my hand and clamped his other hand over my mouth. I struggled, but it was useless. For the first time, I understood the raw, hopeless disparity in strength between a man and a woman, especially a man like him—the most skilled fighter in the Citadel. Tears of rage and despair streamed down my face. I would not be forcibly bred. I bit down on his hand, hard. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. He didn’t even flinch. But he didn’t move to hurt me, either. A voice crackled from his comms unit. “Major Jax, what’s your status?” He glanced at me. “She’s awake. Uncooperative. Attempted self-harm.” “Acknowledged,” the voice replied. “Abort the mission for now. Don’t let her hurt herself.” “Understood,” Jax said. He released me. I shoved him away and scrambled off the bed, intending to run to Vivian’s room. But he caught me, throwing me back onto the mattress. I thought he was going to defy his orders. “What,” I sneered, “is the Commander’s dog going to disobey his master now?” He looked down at me, his eyes hooded. Without a word, he unbuckled his belt, but this time he used it to tie my hands to the headboard. He gagged me with a strip of cloth, then pulled a chair over and sat facing me. 3 In the suffocating silence of the night, the rhythmic creak of the iron bedframe in Vivian’s room was brutally clear. So were her soft cries. They were supposed to be cries of pleasure. She was meant to be asleep, but now she was lost in a drugged ecstasy. It seemed the milk contained more than just a sedative. And there were still six other men outside. The doctors had said they were all compatible candidates. I didn’t know if they were all supposed to take a turn. A wave of guilt washed over me. I should have prepared her. After an eternity, the sounds from her room finally stopped. I heard muffled voices, and then the man led Vivian away. Panic seized me. The moment Jax untied me, I demanded, “Where are you taking her?” He didn’t answer directly. “Your current state will only agitate her. You’ll see each other again when the time is right.” I asked the others, but they ignored me. For the first time in the two months since we’d arrived, Vivian and I were completely separated. 4 They put me in isolation. Even Jax, my constant shadow, was gone. The door was locked. I picked up a chair and hurled it at the window, but it bounced off. The glass was reinforced, unbreakable by my strength. The Spire, once a vantage point, was now a cage in the sky. I refused to eat, terrified they would drug me again. After a day and a night of this, Jax appeared with an old, white-haired man. Hope flickered within me. This was the man who had stopped Jax from shooting me when he thought I was Infected. I didn’t know his title, but his bearing and attire suggested he outranked Jax. He smiled kindly. “Is the food not to your liking? Tell grandpa what you want to eat, and I’ll have someone make it for you.” “Let me and my friend go,” I pleaded, thinking he was my savior. “We can work for our food.” I told him we had both studied bioengineering, that we could contribute to the Citadel. The old man listened patiently, then patted my head. “Child, your work is to bear children.” I stared at him, my hope turning to ash. I thought a man like him, so full of wisdom, would understand. That he would know childbirth should never be forced. He gestured to Jax. “Is Major Jax not to your liking? He is the most handsome man we have, and his genetic compatibility with you is the highest. But if you truly cannot accept him, you may choose someone else. Your feelings are what matter most. We will respect your choice.” I backed away slowly. “I will not be a breeding machine. I would rather die.” The old man’s smile never wavered. “As you wish.” He calmly ordered Jax to remove all food and water from my room. Not a single crumb, not a single drop. Jax hesitated. “All of it, sir?” “All of it.” Jax looked like he wanted to protest, but he said nothing. It didn’t matter to me. At that moment, I truly believed death was better than this. But in the days that followed, they gave me nothing but a small cup of corn juice each day to keep me alive. The windows were sealed with steel plates, plunging me into absolute darkness and silence. At first, I could bear the hunger and the blackness, clinging to memories of my old life. But the hunger grew, a fire scorching my stomach and throat, becoming unbearable. By the seventh day, my consciousness began to fray. I thought I heard Vivian crying, begging someone to save me. I dragged myself to the door, my weak hands slapping against the cold steel. It felt like an eternity before a pair of leather boots appeared in the sliver of light under the door. The light was so bright it seared my eyes. I clutched at the boots. “I… I agree…” I rasped. A bowl of plain white porridge was placed before me. I grabbed it with both hands, gulping it down like a starving animal. I had thought my will was as strong as a revolutionary martyr’s, but a single bowl of bland porridge brought me to my knees. I knew then that they would have let me starve to death. In their world, procreation was more important than life itself. When I finished, I finally had the strength to look up. It was Jax. His face was as impassive as ever. “You’ll hurt your stomach eating so fast,” he said, his voice flat. Another man who came with him scoffed. “I thought you were tough. Couldn’t even last seven days. There was once someone who…” Jax shot him a look, and the man fell silent. The old man had come too, along with several other candidates for the Pairing. He smiled that same kind smile. “We respect your feelings. You may choose one that you like.” 5 I still chose Jax. He had the highest genetic compatibility with me. The old man might have offered a choice, but he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Besides, the female doctor who examined me earlier had explained the reality of the situation. “Pairing with the highest match is better for your body,” she had said. “If a lower-match candidate fails to impregnate you within two months, he will be replaced. They will keep replacing them until you conceive.” “Why not use artificial insemination?” I’d asked. “Because technologically conceived infants all develop fatal illnesses around the six or seven-month mark. Only natural gestation is stable.” “Do all the women here live like this?” She shook her head, her expression grim. “Not all of them. Some women… can no longer bear children.” “Because they’re too old?” She didn’t answer. She reported to the old man that my body was too weak from starvation and I would need several days to recover before the Pairing. He refused. She sighed and turned to me, her voice low. “Major Jax isn’t a bad person. Since you’ve accepted this, try to accept him. It will be easier for you, and better for your future.” Her sincerity was genuine. She must have lived through her own version of this hell. The room was empty except for Jax and me. He was cleaning his handgun. I stood by the window, looking at a white building in the distance. It was the building we had appeared in front of when we first arrived. I had tried to get inside several times, searching for a way back, but it was always sealed off. I had surrendered to the present, but I never planned to stay here forever. I had to find a way into that building. 6 After my shower, I lay on the bed. In the quiet of the night, I could hear faint sounds of lovemaking echoing through the Spire, from the bottom floor to the top. It was like an inescapable web, suffocating me. Jax lowered himself onto me. The pain was sharp. I needed a distraction. “Did your last Pairing partner have a child?” I asked. His hands gripped my waist. “She died.” “How?” “Infection.” “Did she conceive before she died?” “No. We had never even met.” He looked at me, and his amber eyes held no desire. Only instinct. The primal instinct to reproduce. He didn’t even take off his shirt. The stiff fabric of his uniform chafed my skin. His gun was still in his hand, a symbol of his constant vigilance. I stared at the cold moon outside the window and prayed for dawn. This went on for three nights. On the morning of the fourth day, the Citadel’s alarms blared. The Infected were attacking. Jax wasn’t supposed to be on the front lines, but the situation was critical. He was needed. My second-highest match was left to guard me. He was young, no older than seventeen or eighteen, and as silent as Jax. “What’s your name?” I asked. His eyes were hidden in the shadow of his cap, but the tips of his ears turned red. “Ethan.” I smiled. “That’s a nice name.” “Th-thank you,” he stammered. As I got up to dress, he turned to leave. I stopped him. “You don’t have to be so formal. If I’m not pregnant in two months, you’ll be the one in this bed with me.” He froze. “The Major… his compatibility with you is the highest. You will succeed.” “Who knows. I hear a lot of them fail.” “N-no. The Major is very… capable.” “This isn’t about being capable.” I walked over to him and looked up into his eyes. They were beautiful, and filled with panic. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I’d pushed enough. “I’m hungry. Could you get me something to eat?” “Of course.” He practically fled the room. It was then that they brought Vivian back. 7 Vivian threw her arms around me, her eyes filled with tears. “You’re so thin,” she whispered. “Where have you been?” I asked urgently. “Just on the floor below.” “With who?” “A few other girls, and…” She bit her lip, glancing toward the door. I followed her gaze and saw the man who had entered her room that night. I hadn’t seen him clearly then, but now I recognized him. He was Landon, the son of the current Commander. It was strange. Why were all the highest-compatibility candidates the sons of the elite? It was even stranger that Landon would agree to a Pairing with Vivian. He was notoriously arrogant, looking down on commoners and even advocating for abandoning them to conserve resources for the elite. It was laughable. Even with less than three hundred thousand people left, this Citadel was still rigidly divided by class. “You’ve been with him this whole time?” I asked. Vivian nodded faintly. “So you know what’s been happening to us?” “Yes.” “And you’re willing to go through with it?” “Willing or not, I can’t change anything.” Her personality had always been one of quiet acceptance, a result of being orphaned and raised by relatives. “We’re best friends, Viv. I’m not leaving you here alone,” I said, my voice firm. “If I find a way back, you’re coming with me. Right?” She nodded. “Yes.” A sliver of relief washed over me. Ever since she’d called this place a paradise, I had been terrified she would actually choose to stay. 8 I fell into a routine, biding my time, waiting for an opportunity. During the day, I took my medicine and ate my meals. Vivian and I would rehash the details of our arrival, searching for any clue. At night, I lay on the narrow bed and endured Jax. Vivian adapted far better than I did. She learned to navigate Landon’s arrogance and his temper. Ten days later, my period arrived right on schedule. The doctors were disappointed, blaming it on my previous starvation. But their spirits lifted soon after. Vivian was pregnant. The Citadel erupted in celebration. I didn’t understand the euphoria until Vivian told me she was the first woman to conceive naturally in almost five years. The situation was far worse than I had imagined. “No one has gotten pregnant in five years? Why?” I asked, shocked. “I don’t know the details. Only that around the twentieth year of the apocalypse, it became difficult for women to conceive. The numbers kept dropping, until five years ago, when it stopped completely.” “It has to be the environment.” When an environment becomes hostile, the first thing animals do is stop reproducing. Humans were animals, too. But humans had other means. So the Citadel had tried artificial insemination. When that failed, they developed the genetic compatibility Pairing program. That clearly hadn’t worked either. The harsh new world had changed women’s bodies, making them reject pregnancy. Vivian and I were different. We were from another time. Our bodies were untouched by this world’s decay. The fact that the Spire was filled with women, all enduring men night after night despite five years of failure, meant one thing. They weren’t just here for breeding experiments. They were here as outlets for the men’s desires. This was the apocalypse, after all. The Citadel maintained a veneer of civilization, but beneath it, the law of the jungle prevailed. And in the twisted dance of procreation and lust, women bore the entire burden. 9 Because Vivian was pregnant and I was being compliant, we were granted the freedom to move about the Spire. I explored every floor, searching for an escape route, but every level was guarded, the doors forged from reinforced steel. Ethan saw my probing and misunderstood. “You don’t need to be afraid. This is the most secure facility in the Citadel. Once the doors are locked, not even the Infected can get in. Even we can’t get out.” “What if there’s a fire? We’d all be trapped.” “That won’t happen. In a fire, all the doors unlock automatically. But there are no open flames allowed in the Spire.” I feigned disappointment. “So I can’t even go outside for some fresh air?” He nodded. “You’re too important. We can’t risk anything happening to you.” He was right. In a world of men, a lone woman was in constant danger. I met the other women confined to the Spire. Most were young and looked exhausted. They were curious about us, crowding around Vivian. “You’re so lucky, getting Paired with Major Landon. I’m stuck with brutes and old men.” “I just want to get pregnant so I don’t have to deal with so many of them.” “I want to get pregnant so I can eat meat. I haven’t had meat in so long.” “Let me touch you, for good luck.” They reached out to touch Vivian’s belly, their eyes filled with desperate hope. Only one older woman scoffed. “You think having a baby makes you a queen? You’ll see. You won’t even know how you died.” “You’re just jealous,” another girl shot back. “Yeah, you’re old and used up. You’re about to be sent to the labor division, so you can’t stand to see anyone else succeed.” The woman’s gaze swept over them, finally landing on Vivian and me. “Jealous? You’ll understand one day. This world was meant to end. You shouldn’t be trying to force it back to life.” I wanted to ask her what she meant, but Jax and Landon arrived. The chatter died instantly. Landon glared at Vivian. “Didn’t I tell you to be in your room at four?” “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away. Jax didn’t reprimand me, but he punished Ethan severely for failing to keep me on schedule. “It wasn’t his fault,” I said, trying to defend him. “I lost track of time.” Jax was unmoved. As Ethan was led away to receive his punishment, he shot me a grateful look. Back in our area, a doctor was drawing Vivian’s blood. It would be sent to the labs for research, to find out what made her different. If I conceived, I would face the same fate. Vivian hated needles. Her face was pale, her eyes squeezed shut. “Major Landon, why don’t you comfort her?” the doctor teased. With a child on the way, Vivian would be bound to Landon for life, her purpose to bear him more children. They would only be separated if he died. “If she can’t handle a little pain, how is she going to give birth?” Landon sneered. I went to Vivian and took her hands. “Don’t be afraid. It’ll be over in a second.” Her trembling subsided. Landon laughed. “What a touching display of sisterly love.” “Took your two eyes this long to figure that out?” I retorted. He shot up from his chair, furious that I dared to talk back. “Don’t,” Vivian cried, jumping in front of me. Jax stepped forward, placing a restraining hand on Landon’s shoulder. Landon snorted and stormed out.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384849”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My whole class was thrown forward in time, to the year 3035. Humans, once the apex predators, were now a critically endangered species. Leo, the class slacker, was living it up. “Dude, this is awesome! They feed us, house us, even give us baths. Steak, lobster, little cakes—what’s not to love?” Mark, our class president, agreed. “AC, waterbeds, a pool… Seventy-eight degrees is the GOAT.” And Ariana, the class beauty, preened. “Eee, why are they always looking at me? Do they just, like, love me that much?” But I was the only one whose skin was crawling, whose mouth was as dry as dust. Oh, my dear, naive classmates. You’ve forgotten something. As an endangered species, it’s not just about being cherished, adored, and pampered. It’s also about being bred. Endlessly. 1 I was the last one they caught. Our Animal Science class was on a field trip to a national wilderness preserve to observe a wild panda. The transport vehicle overturned, and when we woke up, we were in the apocalypse. My leg was injured. I got separated from the others while looking for food. After a restless sleep, as I was dragging myself eastward up a mountain, he appeared again—the burly Insectoid in sterile gloves who’d been silently tracking me. I thrashed, trying to scramble away, my hands fumbling for a loose rock to throw. But the Insectoid, with his strangely delicate features, just stared at me with his huge, multifaceted compound eyes. A low, rhythmic chittering sound vibrated from his throat, as if trying to soothe me. He didn’t seem hostile. I was already at my limit. The wound on my leg had reopened, bleeding again. The Insectoid behind me chirped softly, a gentle summons. This time, I stopped my clumsy retreat and turned back. He had placed a piece of fruit on the ground. I swallowed hard. As my gaze dropped to the fruit, a sharp prick stung my ankle. A thin, insect-like needle delivered a paralyzing agent that spread through my body like ice. I was sedated. When I opened my eyes again, I was inside a completely alien architectural complex. Two other Insectoid guards opened a gate, revealing silvery structures that shimmered in the sun like liquid mercury. Holographic screens and rotating icons pulsed with information I couldn’t comprehend. Through the transparent walls on either side of me, I could see other humans huddled in corners, their faces distorted and strange. They were a mix of ethnicities, but they all shared unsettling traits: wide-set eyes, mismatched pupils, and thin, patchy hair. The moment I was lifted from the transparent containment unit, a wave of excitement swept through the facility. Every Insectoid swarmed toward me. They chittered and clicked, a sound of urgent, agitated delight. The thousands of tiny lenses in their compound eyes were fixed on me. One of them, who seemed to be a leader, extended a long, jointed appendage. The sedative still held me frozen; I could only watch as its hand descended and gently stroked my hair. A series of soft clicks, like laughter, echoed from the leader. The pupils in its countless tiny eyes dilated. If I were to judge by human emotions, it was pure joy. It seemed these Insectoids adored humans, especially our smooth skin and soft hair. 2 They took me to a private room that resembled a medical bay. An Insectoid medic tended to the wound on my leg. Their methods were nothing like human medicine; they were brutal. The dead flesh was simply carved away, with no anesthetic or medication. I was expected to just… heal. When the paralytic wore off, the pain was so intense I nearly passed out. Just then, an Insectoid caretaker brought me a bowl of milk. It was fresh, still warm and carrying a gamey scent. Gritting my teeth, I drank it all. The caretaker seemed pleased. It studied me for a long moment, then, when it thought no one was looking, its gloved hand reached out and patted my head. I fought down a wave of nausea and stayed perfectly still. My only strategy was to eat whatever they gave me and observe everything. My quiet compliance quickly earned me a reward. One day, after I’d finished my meal, my caretaker carefully lifted me. It used an iris scanner to activate a light-based transport strip, and we glided down a brightly lit corridor made of some unknown material. We stopped in front of a large room. The doors hissed open to reveal a bizarre collection of human furniture—chairs, tables, and benches, all looking like priceless antiques. And deeper inside, there were a dozen nutrient pods. Each pod held someone. In the nearest one, his eyes closed in sleep, was Leo, the class slacker. They were here. A jolt of panic shot through me. An Insectoid doctor in the room chittered something. Seeing my reaction, it gestured for my caretaker to put me down. I limped forward, peering into each pod. In the very center, a figure stirred and woke. It was our class beauty, Ariana. I raised my hand to tap on the glass. Suddenly, a mechanical arm shot out from the pod, and a line of text materialized in the air—some kind of description. “Ariana,” I rasped, my voice trembling. My caretaker let out a sharp, joyful cry. It was the first time I had spoken in days. It chittered to the doctor on duty, and a moment later, the pod doors began to open. Ariana was the first one lifted out by the mechanical arm, followed by the others. They woke up, rubbing their eyes and staring at me. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. Tears welled up in my eyes. But my classmates just laughed, their relief palpable. 3 They had been captured two weeks before me. They knew more than I did. This was Earth, but not the Earth we knew. It had been conquered by an alien Insectoid species. Humans were nearly extinct, now classified as a federally protected endangered species. And we were the new darlings of Earth’s masters. The entire captive population numbered less than a hundred. We were being preserved with the effort and resources of a nation-state. Seeing my confusion, Leo grinned. “Think about how they used to treat pandas. That’s us now.” Below only one species, but above all else. Claire, our top student, tried to comfort me. “Don’t be scared, Barb. We’re safe now. They won’t hurt us. We were so worried about you.” In the time they’d been here, they’d already learned to decipher some of the Insectoids’ intentions. Their intelligence, which they demonstrated through these deductions, had earned them unprecedented attention. It was a positive feedback loop: constant care and escalating pampering had given them all the illusion of being princes and princesses. Claire said, “Based on their excitement and the symbols they’ve inscribed for us, I think the total human population is even lower than the panda population was. We made a bet. Leo says three thousand, Mark says one thousand, and Ariana thinks it’s eight hundred. Barb, what’s your bet?” How many? I didn’t know. I glanced over my shoulder. In the observation room behind us, the same Insectoid who’d brought me in was cleaning, a pair of sterile gloves on his hands. He kept stealing glances at me. In that moment, I saw something complex in his compound eyes. Was it… concern? Was he worried that we, the endangered, might come to harm? How ironic. Humans, the ancient and precious living fossils, had thrived on this planet for five million years with our incredible adaptability. We wiped out nearly 85% of Earth’s wild mammals and consumed half its plant life, becoming masters of the planet. And a thousand years later, we were the ones on the verge of extinction. Wait. Endangered species. My mind flashed back to the distorted faces of the humans I’d seen when I first arrived. I remembered a famous case from Australia, a tragic story of an isolated family whose inbreeding led to severe health problems in their children—facial deformities, poor eyesight, the inability to speak. Could it be that the other humans in this facility were… A terrifying thought took root in my mind. Beside me, my classmates were still chattering excitedly. “Man, this is the life! No 9-to-5 grind, they feed us, house us, even give us baths. Steak, lobster, little cakes…” Leo sighed contentedly. “AC, waterbeds, a pool,” Mark added. “Seventy-eight degrees is the best.” “Eee, they can’t stop looking at me,” Ariana whispered, fluffing her hair. “Do they just, like, adore me?” And I was the only one whose skin was crawling, whose mouth was as dry as dust. My dear classmates. You’ve forgotten. As an endangered species, it’s not just about being cherished and adored. You also have to be bred. Endlessly. 4 There were eight of us now, including me. All from the same vehicle, all friends. Four guys: Mark, Leo, Jax the athlete, and Simon, the quiet one with glasses. And four girls: myself, Ariana, Claire, and my introverted roommate, Jenna. A perfect set. Four males, four females. We all wore collars. The girls’ were silver, the boys’ were gold—a simple way to differentiate sexes. The symbols on them seemed to be serial numbers. If I wasn’t mistaken, mine was 88. The Insectoids kept calling me “Baba,” which sounded just like it. It also sounded eerily like my nickname, Barb. When I shared my terrible theory, Simon, the youngest, had the biggest reaction. His face turned beet red, his mouth hanging slightly open. Ariana shot him an annoyed look. “What are you staring at?” She gracefully tucked a curl behind her ear. “They wouldn’t do that, would they?” Mark and Claire fell silent. “They probably wouldn’t… at least, not right away,” Mark said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “We have to find a way to escape,” Claire whispered. We looked around. The room was under 360-degree surveillance. Our every move was exposed to the watchful eyes of our Insectoid caretakers. Their compound eyes stared, unblinking. This time, even Leo shivered. “No way… I’m still a virgin.” My roommate Jenna was on the verge of tears. “Barb, what are we going to do?” A typical insect has thousands of lenses in its compound eyes. Each one acts as a tiny, individual eye, capturing every minute movement and feeding it to the brain. To them, our every action, every flicker of an eyelid, every tightening of a muscle, was an eternity of slow motion. The moment Jenna started to cry, her designated caretaker began to move. “Stop crying!” I hissed. “Smile. Right now.” Jenna’s mouth trembled, twisting into a pained grimace. “What? Why?” “They can’t understand our words, but they can read our expressions. If you keep crying, they might think we’re hurting you. Think about how we separate fighting lab rats in the vivarium.” Everyone went quiet. Just then, I noticed the number of Insectoids outside the observation room had grown. They’d gathered silently, a crowd of them. From my time in the wilderness and the med bay, I’d learned that Insectoids distinguished rank by the necklaces they wore. Commoners wore stone or wooden beads. Professionals, like doctors, wore necklaces of terrestrial gems, like crystal. But the managers, the ones with authority, wore gold chains forged from metals brought to Earth by a supernova. The bigger the beads, the higher the rank. And right now, outside the glass, stood an Insectoid leader with a thick, heavy gold chain. The pair of antennae on its head twitched gently. Insect antennae are their most vital sensory organs, evolved from what were once legs on their heads. Some detect the taste of food, some sense sound, others smell. Right now, the leader’s antennae were quivering, pointed in our direction. That’s when I noticed it. Even in this situation, Ariana had put on perfume. Her hair was perfectly styled. She caught me staring and shrugged. “A girl’s got to look her best, no matter what. It was the last of my perfume, anyway.” The last of it was more than enough. The next second, the Insectoid leader pointed a clawed finger at Ariana. An Insectoid caretaker entered, gently scooped Ariana up, and carried her out. The leader nodded, satisfied, then its gaze swept over the rest of us. 5 “Are they choosing people?” Simon asked, his voice hollow. “Are they going to… pair us up now?” Mark and the other guys tensed, glancing instinctively at Simon. He flinched, his face turning a shade of red so deep it looked painful. Jax, ever the loyal friend, spoke up. “Doesn’t matter who they pick. We won’t… we won’t do anything.” Simon glanced at me. “Me… me neither.” But after taking Ariana, they didn’t take anyone else. The rest of the day passed in unnerving silence. A knot of anxiety tightened in our stomachs. As the only one who had survived outside for over a week, I had become their unwilling expert. But the truth was, I didn’t know anything. In that week, I hadn’t seen a single other living human. The ruins of our world—old houses, decaying parks—were almost completely covered by bizarre Insectoid structures. The ground was littered with the massive, discarded egg sacs and molted skins of their hatchlings, emitting a sour, unsettling stench. The wilderness was no place for humans anymore. The only survivors were in captivity. And in this facility, there were others besides us. As the thought occurred to me, I saw the same realization dawn on Mark and the others. We all rushed toward the transparent walls, but they crackled with electricity. A single touch sent a numbing jolt through our bodies. Our frantic movements attracted the attention of the caretakers. Mark was the first to be lifted away, and the others followed, one by one. Just before they took me, I yelled, “Cry! If you’re alone, just cry! Stop when you see one of us! If we do it enough, they’ll understand! It’s our only way to see each other!” 6 My advice worked. While the Insectoids’ rigid exoskeletons didn’t allow for many expressions, they had emotions. They were naturally drawn to the sight of a smiling human, especially a docile, obedient one. It was the same satisfaction we once got from our own pets, that feeling of affection and simple, devoted submission. On the third day of my solitary confinement, after my seventh crying jag and refusing all food and water, I was finally allowed to see my own kind again. But it wasn’t in person. It was through a holographic display that materialized all around me. I could even navigate the images myself. What I saw was worse than I imagined. Four of my classmates were already naked. Mark was curled up, eating. Simon was asleep. Leo was gulping down fruit juice and belching loudly. The Insectoids had figured out the optimal temperature for human comfort, a temperature where clothes were unnecessary. So they had simply taken them away. They loved the softness of human skin, the suppleness of our bodies, the same way humans once loved fluffy kittens and puppies. They were making us into what they loved. They had no moral compass to tell them otherwise. Jax had it the worst. The hair on his chest had been plucked out, one by one, leaving his skin raw and red. According to their health standards, a healthy human shouldn’t have hair there. After all, none of the others did. I watched the four of them for two days. Then, two days later, Mark’s feed vanished. Only three male classmates remained. Three more days passed. Jax’s feed disappeared. Now there were only two. A cold dread began to creep into my heart. A wild, absurd thought surfaced. If the Insectoids were capable of “liking” someone… was it possible they would consider our feelings when it came to breeding? Was that why the girls were only shown the feeds of the four boys? Did they think we were choosing a mate based on who we watched the longest? …But the only reason I watched Simon and Leo more was because they at least tried to cover themselves! 7 The thought spiraled, twisting into panic. Just then, he arrived. It was the Insectoid who had first brought me to the facility. He was filling in for my caretaker, cleaning the room. I looked at him, my eyes wide and pleading. His own multifaceted eyes didn’t move, but his antennae twitched. As the human he’d personally captured, he’d always kept a close watch on me. I knew it. I turned back to the screen and let my expression crumple, as if I were about to cry. He glanced around, then continued his sanitizing routine. But one of his appendages brushed, as if by accident, against my injured ankle. The wound had already scabbed over. It was still red, but it didn’t hurt much anymore. I understood instantly. The reason I was kept in a private room, the reason I hadn’t been put on display, was because I was injured. If I stayed injured, it would certainly affect my suitability for pairing. That night, under the thin paper-like sheet on my bed, I used my fingernails to claw open the wound. I clenched my teeth against the searing pain and ripped away the entire scab. Blood pooled on the floor, but I didn’t make a sound. The next morning, the Insectoid doctor returned. It stared at my leg for a long time, only producing bandages after I started to sob. As it worked, an assistant came in. They chittered back and forth, and the assistant pulled up a holographic chart. It was filled with wedge-shaped compatibility graphs. At the very top, I saw her designation: Number Two. Ariana. And trailing behind her code was a list of golden male codes. Not a single one of them belonged to our classmates. Could it be? I got my answer a month later. During that time, because my wound kept “reopening,” I remained in the medical bay. As soon as they tried to remove my clothes or raise the temperature, I would feign weakness, my body going limp. The constant infections and a missed period finally made me genuinely sick. I ran a fever. Now, even when the naked images of Leo and Simon flickered across the screen, I didn’t even glance at them. My Insectoid doctors conferred, chittering worriedly about my poor condition. That afternoon, hoping to lift my spirits, they changed the holographic content. And that’s when I saw her. Unprepared, I saw a completely transformed Ariana. 8 The once glamorous Ariana was unrecognizable. Her beautiful, wavy hair had been chopped off, and a faint red mark scarred her forehead from where she’d tried to strangle herself with it. She was in a magnificent, sprawling room with soft, padded walls. She wore no clothes. Her skin was a pale, milky white, and her body was incredibly round. She must have gained at least thirty pounds. An endless supply of liquid nutrients was available to her, along with glittering, jewel-encrusted toys. Her environment looked luxurious, with several Insectoid attendants fussing over her constantly. If she so much as glanced at a food item, it was brought to her instantly. If she frowned, it was taken away. It would have been a perfect picture, if not for the enormous, taut swell of her belly. In less than two months, her stomach had grown to a terrifying size. If she was carrying multiples, there had to be at least eight in there. Had these creatures lost their minds? She sat mechanically, hugging a paper pillow, muttering to herself. Whenever a bell chimed, her head would snap up, and a vacant smile would spread across her face as she looked toward the door. It was pure conditioning, like a dog responding to a bell. So what if you were treated like a national treasure? In the end, you were still just a pet. A rare, collectively owned pet. And Ariana, favored by the Insectoid leader, was simply the most prized—and the first to be broken. I scrambled to my feet, my wounded ankle dripping blood onto the floor. The room spun. I steadied myself, reaching a hand out. The image flickered and changed. And then I saw Claire and Jenna, who I hadn’t seen in ages. Their enclosure was different, seemingly more open. It had a crystal-walled antechamber that periodically opened to the outside, allowing sunlight to stream in. It was like a VIP habitat at a zoo. On the grassy patch outside, a bathtub shaped like a giant clamshell had been installed. Every ray of light was designed to reflect off the bathers’ skin, showcasing its smoothness and beauty. Claire was holding on better than the others, but only just. She sat inside, refusing to go out. On the plush cushions before her, she had painstakingly written the same word over and over in spilled milk: Escape. Escape. Escape. Jenna, however, was in the outdoor tub, awkwardly washing herself as the Insectoids watched. Every splash, every movement, was met with a chorus of excited clicks and chirps from the spectators. Occasionally, a bold young Insectoid would slap the holographic screen, only to be chided by its parent for being rude and frightening the precious human. Beyond the transparent crystal wall, rows of Insectoids stood, tier upon tier, their compound eyes wide, their mouths agape, watching the humans inside. This was so different from the dull, listless captives they were used to. This was the adorable, lively human they had always dreamed of. Jenna, who had always been shy and insecure about her looks, was now the most beloved human in the Insectoid world.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384848”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I wanted the campus queen’s boyfriend. Badly. Because he was handsome, rich, and a genuinely good guy. And I was flat broke. He spent money on her like it was nothing, and I was practically drooling with envy. But the campus queen? She couldn’t get over the fact that he was “only” five-eleven. So when I heard they were on the rocks, I knew. This was my chance. 1 Vivian Knight, the undisputed queen of our department, was having it out with her trust-fund boyfriend, Asher Vaughn, right in front of the dorms. “What do you have besides a fat wallet?” she accused him, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re not even six feet tall. Are you even a real man?” It was a direct hit to his pride. His face went pale, then a blotchy green. He gritted his teeth. “Do you really think I can’t do better than you?” Vivian’s smirk was pure arrogance. “Asher, you have to admit it. I’m the best you’re ever going to get.” I slowed my pace, timing my path to brush right past Asher. Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I looked up, my eyes meeting his, his face just inches from mine. “Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, his voice surprisingly smooth. “Yes,” I practically shouted, nodding frantically. Vivian stared for a beat, then burst out laughing. Her eyes raked over my worn-out jeans and faded t-shirt with theatrical scorn. “I know you’re trying to make me jealous, Asher, but are you really this desperate? You can’t just grab the first charity case you see.” She leaned in close to me, a cruel glint in her eyes. “Well, well, little wallflower,” she whispered. “Playing with the big dogs now, are we?” She didn’t see me as a threat. Not even for a second. In her mind, this was just a desperate, heat-of-the-moment stunt. He would never actually want me as his girlfriend. And she was right. Any sane person, seeing the two of us side-by-side, would know who to choose. She was the statuesque, dazzling beauty who had turned heads from the moment she stepped on campus. And me? I was the mousy, invisible girl who didn’t own a single decent outfit and kept her head down so no one would notice her. My classmates called me the “little wallflower” to my face. In everyone’s eyes, I was pathetic, timid, and so insecure I couldn’t even look people in the eye when I spoke. In our year’s English department, Vivian and I were polar opposites. She was the supernova; I was the black hole. And by some cruel twist of fate, we were roommates. Vivian never bothered to hide her disgust for me. We shared a room, but she’d barely spoken a word to me. It was as if even acknowledging my existence would tarnish her radiant aura. With her looks, guys were constantly lining up for a chance. After playing the field, she’d finally settled on Asher Vaughn. You couldn’t blame her. He was just too rich. When he was pursuing her, he’d showered her with designer gifts without blinking an eye. It was an assault of brand names and luxury she couldn’t resist. After a month of being courted by half the campus, she chose Asher. And once they were official, the gifts didn’t stop. They got even more extravagant. One day, I overheard my other roommates whispering that the new handbag Vivian had just received was worth over ten thousand dollars. The shock was a physical blow. Ten thousand dollars for a bag? It was beyond my comprehension. What kind of purse could possibly cost that much? Was it lined with gold? My entire family’s annual income was less than that. In that moment, a single, consuming thought took root in my mind. I wish Asher Vaughn was my boyfriend. 2 Maybe it was the sheer scale of Asher’s wealth that did it, but I started to become curious about him. Vivian mentioned him in the dorm constantly. At first, it was all bragging. Lately, it had been all complaining. He wasn’t thoughtful enough, she’d whine. He didn’t know how to comfort her. He just threw money at every problem. “Every time I get upset, he just sends me money. He doesn’t even know how to talk to me,” she’d pout. “We’re in a relationship, not a business deal. Does he think money solves everything? He’s so unromantic!” I used to tune her out. But now, I hung on every word, collecting details about him like a secret treasure. The more I learned, the more an agonizing envy clawed at my insides. If you don’t want a perfect boyfriend like that, give him to me! From my secret observations, I knew Asher was more than just rich. He was emotionally stable, always calm and patient in the face of Vivian’s tantrums. He was respectful, too. When Vivian said she wasn’t ready to sleep with him, he accepted it without question, telling her he would never pressure her. They were still at the hand-holding stage. And while he was a trust-fund kid, he wasn’t a degenerate. He didn’t have the typical vices—no clubbing, no fast cars, no gambling. His hobbies were shockingly wholesome: basketball, hiking, surfing, photography. His only bad habit was smoking. But the most important thing? The way he looked at me. There was no pity, no disgust. I remember it clearly. During the university sports meet, I was standing outside our class’s designated spectator area. The student advisor shoved a few bottles of water into my hands. “Our relay team just finished. Quick, take these to them.” I nodded numbly and walked toward the track. But when I held out the water, the runners actively avoided me, no one willing to take a bottle from my hand. A tidal wave of shame washed over me. Just as I was about to pull my arm back, a hand took one of the bottles. I looked up. It was Asher, his face dripping with sweat. He twisted the cap off and took a huge gulp. A guy next to him nudged him with his elbow. “Dude, why’d you take water from her?” Asher looked confused. “Isn’t she in our class?” “Yeah, but…” “So I’m drinking water for our class. What’s the problem?” The guy lowered his voice. “You’re not grossed out?” “Grossed out by what?” Asher asked, taking another drink. His expression was one of genuine bewilderment. He truly didn’t understand what the other guy was implying. In that moment, I knew. Asher Vaughn was a good person. 3 Asher was a rich guy with a good heart. The exact thing I desperately needed. But he had a girlfriend. And more importantly, we were from different universes. He would never choose me. So I buried my envy, letting it fester in the dark corners of my mind, making me feel even more like a creature of the shadows. I never thought I’d get my lucky break. But there he was, asking me to be his girlfriend. Of course, I said yes. A thousand times yes. But as soon as the word was out, a look of regret flashed across his face and he let go of my wrist. He was already second-guessing his own impulsive act. Vivian’s expression was pure, smug satisfaction. “Asher, that was a low blow. I’m not forgiving you for that.” She tossed her hair back. “In fact, we’re done. We’re breaking up.” A sad smile touched Asher’s lips. “You’ve been waiting to say that for a while, haven’t you?” He nodded slowly. “Fine. As you wish.” Vivian’s triumphant smirk was the last thing I saw before she turned and walked away. Asher just stood there, frozen, like a statue. After a long moment, he finally seemed to reboot and turned to leave. I grabbed his arm. He looked at me, his eyes vacant, like his soul had left his body. He still had the decency to apologize. “I’m sorry about that. I was just kidding back there. Don’t take it seriously.” But I held on tight. “You said it. You asked me to be your girlfriend. You can’t take it back.” “I… I’m sorry.” “Are you still waiting for her to come back?” I decided to play dirty. “She’s been dying for an excuse to break up with you. There’s a guy on the basketball team who’s been chasing her. She can’t stop smiling whenever his name comes up. She’s already moved on.” “The basketball player?” Asher’s voice was flat. “Is he… tall?” I nodded. “Yeah. Like, six-three.” Asher let out a bitter laugh. “I knew it. She hates that I’m not six feet tall.” “You’re not short!” I blurted out. I’d seen the official class health records. Without shoes, Asher was exactly 5’11”. Just one inch shy of that magic number. But for Vivian, that one inch was an obsession. It was understandable, I guess. At 5’8”, she was a giant among girls. She’d said it more than once: any guy under six feet was defective. It was her absolute minimum requirement. She only found out Asher’s true height after they started dating, and it became a constant source of complaint. “How could he be just one inch off?” she’d moan in the dorm. That one inch became an insurmountable flaw, a dealbreaker. When the basketball player started pursuing her, she was giddy. “That height,” she’d sighed dramatically. “It’s just… perfect.” The comparison made her despise Asher even more. She started picking fights constantly, hoping he’d get fed up and dump her first. But Asher, oblivious, just kept sending gifts and money. 4 Seeing Asher’s defeated, blank expression, I knew I had to act fast. “You’re really not short,” I insisted. I knew plenty of guys who were 5’10” or 5’11” who rounded up to six feet without a second thought. Asher was just too honest. I used my hand to gesture between us. “I’m 5’4”, which is pretty average, and I have to crane my neck to look at you.” I stood on my tiptoes for emphasis. “To me, you’re really tall!” My mind raced, scrambling for the right words. It seemed to work. The gloom on his face started to lift. “Thanks,” he said, a small smile appearing. “That actually helps.” A dimple appeared on his right cheek, surprisingly cute. “I’m sorry,” he began again. “Before, I just—” I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I knew this was my one and only shot. If I lost it now, I’d never get another. So, before he could finish, I let the tears fall. He panicked, stopping mid-sentence. “Why are you crying? Was I too harsh? I didn’t mean to be.” I wiped my eyes, my voice catching in my throat. “I know everyone looks down on me. I’m from a poor town in the mountains. My family couldn’t even afford tuition. My clothes are all hand-me-downs. They call me a wallflower and make fun of my accent. When I walk by, they hold their noses, but I swear I shower every day! I don’t smell!” The words tumbled out, a mix of performance and painful truth. “Everyone in the dorm laughs at me. They say I’ll die alone!” It started as an act to gain his sympathy, but the more I spoke, the more real the tears became. Each one was laced with genuine pain. “They really say that about you?” Asher’s anger seemed real. “That’s horrible!” Suddenly our roles were reversed. He was the one desperately trying to comfort me. “You’re adorable! You have a cute round face and big eyes, like a character from a cartoon. And your voice is lovely—if you just worked on a few pronunciations, you could be a professional broadcaster! Your clothes are just a little old, but they’re always clean! Those people are just bored and cruel. Don’t listen to them.” “As for finding someone…” he trailed off, unsure what to say. I let out a loud, theatrical sob. “See? Even you think I’ll never find anyone!” “No! Of course not!” he said, frantically dabbing at my tears with his sleeve. “Didn’t I just ask you? To be my girlfriend?” I sniffled. “But you said you didn’t mean it.” “I meant it!” he said, his eyes firm. “From this moment on, you’re my girlfriend.” My eyes went wide. “Really?” “Really.” He paused. “But… I’m not a very good boyfriend.” “Why would you say that?” “Vivian told me. I have a lot of flaws. She said she was just putting up with me.” I looked at him—handsome, rich, kind, and now, thanks to Vivian, completely lacking in confidence. “In my eyes,” I said, enunciating every word, “you are an amazing person.” “Me? Amazing?” he asked, his voice full of doubt. “Yes, Asher,” I confessed. “I’ve admired you for a very long time.” 5 That night, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, a gnawing guilt eating away at me. I had tricked him into this relationship. I had played on his kindness, used his pity. It wasn’t a pretty truth, but it was the truth. I had been manipulative. I had been calculating. But I needed this boyfriend. I needed his money. I was born into a poor, rural family where boys were prized and girls were burdens. From a young age, I knew my parents’ love was reserved for my younger brother. The family’s money was for him. For me, there was only work. If I slacked, I was beaten. I studied with a desperate, all-consuming focus. It was my only escape. After middle school, my parents wanted to send me to a factory to work. But I got the highest score in my entire school, earning me a full scholarship to the best high school in the city, plus a cash award. For the sake of that award money, they let me go. They took the money, of course. They gave me twenty dollars a month for living expenses. For three years of high school, I was never not hungry. I even fainted from hunger in class once. My homeroom teacher was a kind woman who often invited me to her house for meals. After graduation, I scored high enough to get into my dream university. But there was no money for tuition. My parents told me that if I went to college, they wouldn’t give me a single cent. I worked all summer, but it wasn’t enough. A week before school started, I swallowed my pride and went to my aunt. She was the only relative who had ever shown me kindness, but she was poor, too, with two kids of her own. She secretly gave me two hundred dollars she had saved. I scraped and borrowed, but I was still short. I went back to my kind homeroom teacher and forced myself to ask. She gave me a hundred dollars. The next day, I found out from a classmate that her own father was in the hospital with cancer, and the medical bills were so high she and her husband were fighting about divorce. That night, I cried until I had no tears left. I wrestled with my conscience, but in the end, I kept the money. I wanted to go to school too much. And in that moment, I understood who I was. I was a selfish, cold-hearted person who put my own interests first. 6 After paying for tuition, travel, and basic food, I had thirty dollars left to my name. I treated every penny like it was my last. On the first day of school, I found a black pen on the ground. It was still half full of ink. I was ecstatic. I had just saved twenty-five cents. I still use that pen. When it runs out, I only buy refills. The barrel is now faded and cracked. To save money on haircuts, I let my hair grow to my waist. I had to earn money not just for food, but for the next year’s tuition. Every moment I wasn’t in class, I was working. Sometimes I washed dishes at a restaurant across the street until two in the morning. When the dorms were locked, I’d crash on a cot in the employee break room and get up at dawn to head back for class. I was in a constant state of exhaustion. In class, I was always dizzy and drowsy, unable to focus. My grades started to slip. I was an English major, and coming from a small town, my speaking and listening skills were already a disaster. I was a so-called “mute English” speaker. I was already miles behind the students from big cities, and now with my lack of sleep, the gap was widening. At the end of my freshman year, I barely passed one of my finals. I’m sure the professor took pity on me. I knew if things continued this way, failing was inevitable. I had fought so hard to get here. I knew my only job was to study. But if I didn’t work, I wouldn’t eat. It was a vicious cycle. Many times, when my back ached so much I couldn’t stand up straight, I wished I could just pass out and never wake up. Being alive was just too hard. 7 The next morning, I saw the six-foot-three basketball player waiting outside the dorm. Vivian bounced up to him, linked her arm in his, and they walked away together. They were official. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least now she wouldn’t be coming back for Asher. After my last class, I saw Asher waiting outside the lecture hall. I ran up to him, a surprised smile on my face. “How did you know I was here?” Then I remembered. Vivian and I were in the same program. Of course he had our class schedule. He used to wait here for her. Just then, Vivian and her new boyfriend walked past. When she saw Asher take my backpack from me, she shot me a look of pure venom. It was bizarre. She had a new boyfriend. Did she expect Asher to remain her property, too? Asher took me to the nicest cafeteria on campus. He ordered three main dishes and a soup. It was the most satisfying meal I’d had in years. Asher barely ate, just watched me, his chin resting on his hand. “Aren’t you going to eat? Why are you staring at me?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious. “I haven’t seen someone enjoy their food this much in a long time,” he laughed. “It’s a pleasure to watch.” “You’d better eat before it’s all gone,” I warned him. He finally picked up his fork. “I wasn’t hungry, but watching you made me hungry. Don’t worry, if you finish it all, I’ll just order more.” I ate until I was full, a deep, comforting happiness settling in my stomach. “Thank you, Asher,” I said, sitting up straight. “For what?” “For the amazing meal.” He patted my head. “You’re too easy to please.” He pulled a brand-new smartphone out of his bag and handed it to me. “What’s this?” I hesitated. “It’s my backup phone. Never used it, it’s basically new.” He paused. “If you don’t want a hand-me-down, I can buy you a new one.” I shook my head vigorously. “No, this is perfect!” My current phone was an ancient burner phone, a hand-me-down from my uncle that was so beat up even the recycling kiosks wouldn’t take it. It could only make calls, and the battery lasted half a day. I never took it out in public. The shame was too much. A pale, elegant hand reached across the table. “Give me your old phone,” Asher said. I froze. As thick-skinned as I was, that phone was a source of deep shame. “I’ll transfer the SIM card for you.” His voice was so gentle it disarmed me. I slowly pulled out the battered device. He took it without a flicker of judgment in his eyes. His nimble fingers quickly popped out the SIM card and installed it in the new phone. He placed the new phone in my hand and pointed to the old one. “Do you still want this? I can put it back together for you.” I nodded. “Yes, please.” As he watched me clumsily navigate the new smartphone, he started patiently teaching me how to use it. I was probably the only university student who had never owned one. “You’re a fast learner,” he praised me. “I only have to show you once.” 8 That afternoon, Asher took me shopping. First, we went to a high-end salon. The stylist asked me how short I wanted my hair. “To my shoulders,” I said. My long hair had been a nuisance for years. It took forever to brush and used up so much shampoo. I’d kept it long simply because I couldn’t afford a haircut. An hour later, I walked out with a sleek, shoulder-length bob, my head feeling wonderfully light. Next, Asher took me to the mall. He bought me five complete outfits, three pairs of shoes, and a whole set of skincare and makeup. Staring at my reflection, I barely recognized myself. Asher stood beside me and gently poked my cheek. “What are you staring at?” “Is that… me?” “What, stunned by your own beauty?” he laughed. “I told you, you’re gorgeous. You just need to believe it.” Then we stood outside a designer handbag store. My heart started to pound. This was it. The ten-thousand-dollar bag Vivian had received had haunted me for months. That much money could pay for all four years of my tuition. If I was frugal, maybe even my master’s degree. My entire plan, my reason for being with Asher, hinged on one simple, sincere hope: that he would buy me a bag. It didn’t have to be the most expensive one. I would never even use it. I’d sell it, brand new, and get enough money to finally stop working those soul-crushing jobs. I could finally focus on my studies. With a mix of terror and excitement, I watched as Asher gestured to a wall of purses. His voice was music to my ears. “Pick one.” “Any one?” I asked, testing the waters. “Any one.” I could have screamed with joy. The cheapest bag was over two thousand dollars; the most expensive was in the five figures. I deliberated for a moment and chose one that was around five thousand. I felt like a monster, but the desire for a stable life won out. I pointed. Asher didn’t even look at the price tag. “We’ll take it.” In that moment, he was the most handsome man in the world.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384847”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In a fiery car crash, I threw myself in front of Jacob Vance and saved his life. In doing so, I fell into a coma, becoming the untouchable saint in his memory, the ghost he could never let go of. But when I woke up, I found a fiancée by his side—a woman who shared my eyes, my smile. That’s when I learned the truth: I was living in a dark romance novel, a world designed for my suffering. Jacob was destined to waver between us, torturing me with his indecision. After a series of heart-wrenching and brutal events, I would finally die of cancer. Only then would Jacob have his grand epiphany, casting aside his fiancée to live a life of lonely regret. The Laws of this World whispered, “This is the greatest punishment for him.” And I thought, To hell with that. 1 It didn’t take long for the news of my awakening to reach Jacob. He was overseas at a critical summit, but the moment he heard, he dropped everything and chartered the first flight back. That evening, I saw him, haggard and travel-worn. He burst through the door to my private room, the usually stoic, reserved man stumbling as he collapsed by my bedside. He seized my hand, his grip desperate, as if I were a priceless treasure he’d almost lost forever. “Chloe… Chloe! You’re really awake. I thought they were lying to me…” Jacob pulled me into a fierce embrace, his hot tears searing my neck. “Why did you do it?” he choked out. “Why did you push me out of the way? If I had known you’d end up like this, lying here for years… I would rather it had been me who died.” The nurses in the room were already wiping their eyes, captivated by what they saw as a beautiful, tragic love story. If I hadn’t dreamt of the brutal future awaiting me, a premonition of all the pain to come, I might have been moved, too. He held me for a long moment. When I remained still and silent, he pulled back slightly, his voice soft with concern. “Chloe, why aren’t you saying anything?” I moistened my lips, gesturing to my throat, which felt like sandpaper. He was on his feet in an instant, pouring a glass of lukewarm water and helping me take small, careful sips. Once the soothing water eased the rasp in my throat, I spoke, my voice a fragile whisper. “I saved you?” He froze, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “You did. You shoved me so hard… before I even knew what was happening, the car hit you. It sent you flying.” Jacob clutched his head, a wave of pain washing over his face as he relived the memory. “Chloe, don’t you ever do something so foolish again. You’re the most important person in my life. If anything had happened to you… I would have lost my mind.” I said nothing. Because in my memory, that wasn’t how I ended up in a coma. Not at all. But as he spoke, his expression was utterly sincere, and the faces of his assistant and the nurses showed no hint of surprise. It confirmed my suspicion: this novel-world had a self-correcting mechanism, capable of rewriting reality to fit its plot. But… My fingers traced the line of his jaw, up to his perfect, sculpted features. There, just at the edge of his eyelid, was a tiny, faint brown scar. According to the script, my selfless sacrifice should have left him completely unharmed. Yet, here was proof—a flaw in the narrative. The car crash had left its mark on him, however small. It meant the plot wasn’t entirely absolute. It could be bent. I suppressed the storm of emotions rising within me, forcing myself into the role I was meant to play. “Jacob,” I whispered, my eyes welling with tears. “I’ve missed you so much…” I threw my arms around him and began to sob, just as the girl in the story would have. 2 After I woke up, no matter how demanding his schedule, Jacob made time to visit me at the hospital every single day. He always brought me flowers. Not the extravagant, air-freighted bouquets of a billionaire, but simple arrangements he’d chosen himself from a small florist down the street. Today, he brought a spray of fragrant lilies, their white petals nestled against dark green eucalyptus leaves. A gentle breeze drifted through the open window, filling the room with a sense of serene beauty. As he gently combed my hair, he smiled. “Don’t you like them, Chloe? I remember you made a list once, full of all the places you dreamed of seeing.” He held me, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “You’re still recovering, so for now, I can only bring the world to you in pieces. But get better soon, my love. After we’re married, I’ll take you to every single one of those places. I promise.” Just as the words left his lips, his phone buzzed, a sharp, intrusive sound. Jacob pulled it from his pocket, turning away slightly as he glanced at the screen. His posture stiffened. “Chloe, it’s a work call. I’ll just be a moment.” He didn’t even wait for my reply, stepping over to the window to answer. I felt a cold, bitter laugh rise in my throat. If I didn’t know that was Isabelle Croft on the other end, calling to discuss the final details of their engagement party, his tender words might have actually melted my heart. In the days that followed, I threw myself into physical therapy. Years in a coma had left my body withered and weak; the road to recovery was more arduous than I could have imagined. There were moments when the pain was so intense I wanted to scream, to give up, but the memory of the nightmares that plagued my unconsciousness was a relentless whip, driving me forward. I had to be strong. I had to be ready before the next major plot point unfolded. It was the only way to seize control, to prevent that dream from becoming my reality. My efforts paid off. One week before Jacob’s engagement party, I was discharged from the hospital and moved into the Vance estate. He settled me into a sun-drenched room on the second floor. After the staff had unpacked my things, I asked to explore the house. They must have been given instructions by Jacob, because no one stopped me. The estate was immense. It took me three full days to map out every corner, every hallway, every hidden door. And through it all, Jacob and I were the picture of a loving couple, just like we used to be, before the crash, before the lies. 3 But as the day of the engagement party drew closer, a palpable tension began to radiate from Jacob. He was growing anxious. With me living under his roof, he needed a reason, a solid excuse, to get me out of the house on the day of the party. In the original story, I was still in the hospital, conveniently out of sight. But now, here I was, a living, breathing complication nestled in his arms. I reached up, gently smoothing the worry lines forming between his brows. “What’s wrong? You look so stressed, even at home.” He flinched, his eyes clouded with conflict. After a moment of hesitation, he began, “Chloe, in a few days…” I cut him off, playing the part of the understanding lover. “There’s a traveling art exhibition opening downtown in a few days,” I said, my voice bright. “I’d love to see it. Can I go?” I leaned into him, my tone playful and coaxing. The relief that washed over his face was immediate. “Of course,” he said, his smile returning. “I’ll have my assistant get you tickets. I have a major meeting that day, so I’ll have Davies drive you.” I smiled and nodded. The engagement party was on a Friday night. Jacob saw me off early that morning, his affection a mask for his relief. Davies, his ever-polite assistant, drove me to the gallery. His conversation was pleasant, but he kept dropping hints about all the other wonderful places to visit nearby—boutiques, cafes, parks. Jacob’s orders were clear: keep me occupied for as long as possible. I spent the morning wandering through the exhibition, then had a late lunch at a nearby bistro. By early evening, I found a high-end spa. “Mr. Davies,” I said with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, but would you mind if I just popped in here for a bit? A friend gave me a gift card, and I haven’t had a proper spa day since… well, since before. It seems like the perfect chance.” His smile widened, all too happy to oblige. “Of course, Ms. Sutton. Take all the time you need.” But I wasn’t there for a massage. I was there for the back exit. It was the perfect way to slip away while keeping Davies pinned in place. Once outside, I hailed a cab and gave the driver the one address that had been burning in my mind. The Vance estate. 4 Standing outside the towering gates of the Vance estate, I took a deep, steadying breath. As dusk settled, the mansion began to glow, light spilling from every window, turning the colossal building into a glittering jewel against the darkening sky. I slipped away from the main entrance, hiding in the shadows of a side path. From my vantage point, I watched as a parade of luxury cars delivered the city’s elite—politicians, tycoons, celebrities—all arriving for the grand celebration. In my nightmare, the dream that was my future, this was the day I finally completed my physical therapy. Filled with joy and hope, I had returned to the Vance estate, only to walk into the scene of my beloved’s engagement party with another woman. The shock had shattered me. I had stared at Jacob’s stunned face, turned without a word, and walked away, setting in motion the tragic story of our love. This world’s plot had a way of healing itself. Even if I avoided Isabelle tonight, the story would conspire to reveal her to me eventually. But I had learned something crucial: the plot’s self-correction took time. And in that window of time, I had to do something drastic to ensure I never walked that tragic path again. The Vances were a pillar of society; I had no invitation. Walking through the front door was impossible. In the story, the original me had forced her way in, a scene of humiliating, desperate chaos. I wouldn’t make the same mistake. During my three days exploring the estate, I’d found it: a small, seldom-used service gate, overgrown with ivy. I slipped the key I’d copied into the lock. It turned with a quiet click. I was in. The backyard had been transformed. To impress the Croft family, Jacob had spared no expense. Crates of exotic ingredients flown in from overseas, dozens of renowned chefs, and tables groaning under the weight of a lavish feast. Society’s finest mingled, champagne in hand, their polite smiles hiding shrewd, calculating eyes. I was dressed in a simple, pearl-white silk dress. I looked elegant enough to blend in, and in the bustling crowd, no one noticed the uninvited guest in their midst. My gaze swept across the garden, past the laughing guests, and up towards the mansion. There, on the second-floor balcony, stood a solitary figure. She wore a stunning designer gown, her long hair elegantly pinned with a pearl clip. Even from this distance, I couldn’t see her face clearly, but I knew. I knew with absolute certainty that she was the one I was looking for. Isabelle Croft. 5 I navigated the crowds, slipping inside the mansion and making my way to the second-floor balcony. Isabelle stood with her back to me, swirling a glass of champagne, lost in thought. She turned at the sound of my footsteps. When her eyes landed on my face—a face so strikingly similar to her own—she gasped. “You… it’s you? You’re Chloe Sutton? The one who saved Jacob?” I gave a slight nod. A bitter, self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips. “So it’s true. I wondered why he would ever agree to an arranged marriage with my family. They were all right…” She stepped closer, her eyes scanning my features, searching for the resemblance. “We really do… look alike.” Her family had built their empire on the East Coast, only expanding to Veridia City two years ago. To gain a foothold in a new city’s competitive business world, an alliance with a family like the Vances was the fastest way. Her father had proposed the marriage. “Everyone told my father not to bother,” she continued, her voice laced with irony. “Veridia has no shortage of eligible heiresses. If Jacob Vance wanted a wife, he could have had his pick from here to Paris. So why was he still single?” Isabelle took a sip of her champagne. “My father had given up hope. But then, Jacob saw my picture. And he agreed.” Her eyes, shadowed with a strange mix of clarity and disillusionment, met mine. “I thought it was love at first sight. I never imagined it was because, as everyone whispered, I looked so much like you.” I remained silent. This wasn’t the Isabelle I knew from the story. The novel painted her as a one-dimensional, brainless antagonist, a mere tool to create conflict between Jacob and me. But the woman standing before me was self-aware, her pain palpable. She was no mere plot device. Just as I was about to speak, reality slapped me in the face. Isabelle’s eyes flickered to something over my shoulder. Suddenly, her body lurched forward. The champagne glass in her hand tilted precariously, the golden liquid about to spill all over her expensive gown. I recognized the scene instantly. It was a moment from later in the story, at another party. Isabelle would accuse me of deliberately spilling wine on her. Jacob, refusing to believe my denials, would force me to kneel on broken glass and apologize to her, all to appease the Croft family. The author had tried to frame it as a twisted act of protection—by humiliating me himself, he was preventing the Crofts from seeking further revenge. But pain was pain. Whether it came from Jacob or the Crofts, it made no difference. And it all stemmed from one source: his own weakness. His inability to be alone while I was in a coma, his selfish need for a substitute. How could the author ever label a man like that devoted? In that split second, I saw her intent. I moved first. My hand shot out, clamping down on the rim of the glass. I used so much force that the fragile stem should have snapped, but it held firm. The champagne sloshed, but not a single drop touched my skin. Isabelle stared at me, her eyes wide with shock. Her heel wobbled, and she started to fall. Before she could hit the ground in a dramatic heap, my other hand snaked out, grabbing her arm and wrenching her upright. I clapped a hand over her mouth, dragging her from the brightly lit balcony into the deep shadows of an alcove. A moment later, Jacob and a group of guests passed by, their laughter echoing in the hall. They heard nothing. They saw nothing. 6 Once they were gone, I released her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, my voice a low hiss. Isabelle seemed to snap out of a trance, her eyes slowly regaining focus. She looked at me, her expression bewildered. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered. “It’s like, ever since I met Jacob, my body just does these… strange things on its own.” “Sometimes I’m clinging to him, acting like a spoiled child. Other times I’m cruel, sneering at other women who have a crush on him,” she said, her gaze intense. “I was never like this back home. Never.” But until this moment, no one had ever called her out on it. Her own mind had simply accepted these actions as normal, never questioning the bizarre impulses. “Ms. Sutton,” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Do you believe me?” I studied her face, searching for any sign of deception. I found none. “Isabelle,” I asked softly, “are you in love with Jacob?” She hesitated, her hand pressing against her chest as if to feel her own heartbeat. The strange compulsions might not be hers, but the affection for Jacob… that was real. She gave a slow, deliberate nod. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. If her love was just another part of the script, I would have had no way to convince her to help me. I chose my words carefully. “I’m not here by choice. Jacob is keeping me here, against my will. I don’t love him.” Isabelle looked skeptical. “But the stories… everyone says you were inseparable. That you even took a bullet for him, metaphorically speaking.” “There was a car crash, yes,” I countered, “but it wasn’t to save him. He’s the one spinning that story, making sure everyone believes I’m here because I want to be.” I poured every ounce of sincerity I could muster into my expression, praying she would believe me. And she did. Whether it was my performance or her own innate decency, she finally accepted my words. After a long pause, she asked quietly, “What do you want me to do?” A spark of hope ignited within me. I grabbed her hand. “Your brother,” I said urgently. “I hear he’s in the military, Special Forces?” She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Please,” I pressed, “can you introduce me to him? Jacob has connections everywhere. If I’m going to escape him, I need help from someone he can’t control, someone he fears.” Isabelle’s expression, once sympathetic, suddenly turned cynical. “So that’s it. You’re just using me to get to my brother.” I knew what she was thinking. She saw me as just another woman trying to climb the social ladder by latching onto her powerful brother. I couldn’t let her walk away. As she turned to leave, I stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Believe me or not, I’m telling you the truth.” My voice was desperate, earnest. “Even if you don’t trust me, trust your brother’s judgment. Just make the introduction. He’ll be able to see for himself whether I’m a social climber or someone who genuinely needs his help.” She stared at me for a long, tense moment, her eyes searching mine. Finally, she relented. “Fine,” she sighed. “I’ll set up a meeting. But after that, you’re on your own.” She was about to leave, but paused at the door. She turned back, a thoughtful look on her face. “Chloe Sutton… I did some research on you. Don’t you have a sister? Where is she now?” 7 After striking the deal with Isabelle, I slipped out through the same side gate I’d used to enter, melting back into the night. I took a cab back to the spa, reappearing just as a real customer would, feigning relaxation and offering my apologies to a waiting Davies. He waved it off, his relief palpable, and drove me back to the Vance estate. When we arrived, the mansion was pristine. The staff had worked with chilling efficiency; there wasn’t a single trace of the lavish party that had just ended. Jacob was waiting for me. He pulled me into his arms, his voice a soft murmur against my hair. “Chloe, you’re finally back. I missed you like crazy.” He tilted my head up to kiss me. I didn’t resist, letting him take what he wanted. After a moment, he pulled away, his voice thick with desire. “I got ahead of myself,” he rasped. “I almost forgot you’re still recovering.” He took a deep breath, stroking my hair. “Go on up to bed. I need a cold shower.” I nodded obediently and left him standing there. Upstairs, I collapsed onto the plush bed, my body aching with a day’s worth of tension and exhaustion. Sleep claimed me almost instantly. 8 That night, for the first time in years, I dreamed of my sister, Lily. In the grand, tragic novel of my life, Lily was barely a footnote, a single line in my backstory. But to me, she was everything. Our father was a pilot. He died in a crash when we were young, a fiery end to a life lived in the sky. Our mother, a gentle soul, did something that seemed both insane and incredibly brave: she followed him, leaving my sister and me orphaned. We were sent to live with our grandmother in the countryside. But she was a woman broken by grief, having lost her husband and then her daughter. In truth, we took care of her more than she ever took care of us. Those years of shared hardship forged an unbreakable bond between Lily and me. We had the same dreams. In college, we were dirt poor, living from one meager paycheck to the next. We worked and studied constantly, but in our rare moments of peace, we’d huddle together, watching documentaries. Our favorite was a series about the ancient Silk Road. The names of those faraway places—the Gobi Desert, the whispering poplar forests—they were like magic spells to us. We made a pact: one day, when we had money, we would see them all. I can still see her so clearly, scribbling on a notepad while gnawing on a piece of stale bread. She’d look up at me, a mischievous grin on her face, revealing a single, endearing crooked tooth. “Chloe,” she’d say, “you’re so frail. When we’re out there in the wild, don’t you dare ask me to carry you when you get tired.” I was about to retort, to say something back to her, when the dream dissolved into a blinding white light, and I was awake. Sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, warming the hardwood floors. I stood barefoot in the center of the room, running a hand through my tangled hair in frustration. If Isabelle hadn’t mentioned her, I might have never realized. How long had it been since I’d even thought about Lily? The most important person in my entire world. 9 Isabelle was true to her word. Less than a week after she agreed to help, I received a text from her with a time and place. At this early stage of the story, Jacob hadn’t yet become the possessive jailer he would later be. So, on a day he was occupied at the office, I arranged to meet her brother, Leo Croft, at a café near the city’s landmark Twin Towers. The meeting was set for noon. I arrived half an hour early. I slipped into the restroom to touch up my makeup, deliberately making myself look paler, more fragile. I stared at my reflection: a woman in a cream-colored cashmere sweater and a long, flowing chiffon skirt. I looked delicate, ethereal, breakable. I didn’t know if this performance would earn Leo’s sympathy, but I was playing the long game. In the future I had dreamed of, the one where Jacob held me captive, it was a righteous, justice-driven Leo who noticed my plight and tried to rescue me. His attempt had failed, and Jacob had dragged me back. But he was the only person I knew of, the only character in this twisted story, with the power to help me break free. 10 When I returned to my table, a man was already sitting there. He was tall and lean, with sun-kissed skin that contrasted sharply with his fierce, handsome features. He had the unsettling stillness of a predator, the kind of man who moved like the wind. I walked over and sat down opposite him. “You must be Leo Croft.” He glanced up, his expression unreadable, and gave a curt nod for me to speak. I ordered two coffees—an iced Americano for him, a cappuccino for me. When they arrived, he took a sip of his, and we sat in a heavy silence. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. My eyes fell on his untouched coffee, his stoic face, and then on the corner of a pamphlet sticking out of his jacket pocket. It was for a nature photography exhibition, right next door in the Twin Towers. I decided to take a risk. I invited him to see the exhibit with me. His expression remained cool, but I saw the tension in his brow ease ever so slightly. We walked into the gallery side-by-side, greeted by a stunning photograph of a lioness nursing her cubs. “The Ethiopian savanna, during the dry season,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Most of the herd animals migrate toward water, and the predators follow. This was a lioness who fell behind, her cubs starving.” I listened without comment. He didn’t seem to mind, leading me to the second floor. In the center of the room hung the exhibition’s masterpiece: a breathtaking shot of a whale breaching the surface of the ocean. It was taken in the Arctic Circle, under the rare and magical glow of the aurora borealis. The sky was a canvas of surreal, vibrant colors, transforming the already majestic scene into something otherworldly. A giant rising from the deep to roar its existence at the heavens. “This is—” “Taken three years ago, off the coast of Iceland,” I finished for him, my voice quiet. He turned to look at me, surprised. “The photographer was on a fishing trawler, hoping for a good catch of cod. He stumbled upon this by accident.” I moved to a nearby display, a series of photos documenting the cod fishing industry. I couldn’t help but smile. “Hard to believe the UK and Iceland almost went to war over these things, isn’t it?” My finger traced the glass case. Leo looked at me, confused. “What?” “You don’t know? The Cod Wars,” I explained, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. He didn’t seem annoyed; if anything, he looked intrigued. I pressed on. “After World War II, Iceland repeatedly expanded its territorial waters to protect its fishing industry. Britain, of course, wasn’t happy and sent the Royal Navy to escort their trawlers. But Iceland was clever. Because of a loophole in the NATO agreement, Britain couldn’t engage militarily, but Iceland’s coast guard was free to fire in ‘self-defense.’ They harassed the British fleets until Britain finally gave up the territory. A classic David and Goliath story.” I finished with a small smile, then looked at him, my heart sinking. His face was as impassive as ever. I was sure I had failed, that my attempt to connect with him had been a disaster. Just as I was about to give up, a slow smile spread across Leo’s face. “Ms. Sutton,” he said, his eyes glinting with a newfound respect. “You are not at all what I expected.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384846”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day I was brought back to the Sterling family, Holly was in the living room playing the grand piano. Seeing me in the doorway, her hands froze. A discordant note hung in the air as tears welled in her eyes. “Mom? Dad?” she whispered, voice trembling. “Are you… throwing me away?” Helen rushed to hug her. “Darling, don’t be silly. We never would.” Richard patted her back. “You’ll always be our daughter.” Ethan shot me a glass-cutting glare. “Holly’s heart has been weak. Don’t upset her.” I stood frozen in the entrance, clutching my suitcase, watching their perfect family scene. Honestly, without that promise, I’d never have come. 1 My biological parents and my biological brother were coddling the cuckoo who’d been in my nest for eighteen years, while I, the actual daughter, was left standing on the doorstep like a pizza delivery girl. “Excuse me,” I said, rapping my knuckles against the ornate doorframe. My voice cut through their drama. “Should I come in? Or do you need me to wait outside until the group hug is over?” Helen finally seemed to remember I existed. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. “Nina, darling, come in, come in. Don’t just stand there.” Nina. She got my name wrong. It’s Nora. I suppose after eighteen years of cooing “Holly,” old habits die hard. “It’s Nora,” I corrected calmly, dragging my suitcase across the polished marble floor. The sound echoed in the cavernous hall. Holly lifted her head from her mother’s shoulder, her face a perfect portrait of tear-stained misery. She was beautiful, I had to admit, in a delicate, fragile way. “I’m so sorry, sister,” she sobbed. “It’s all my fault. I’m the one who took your place…” “Don’t worry about it,” I said, finding an empty corner to stash my bag. “You’ve had it for eighteen years. A few more minutes won’t make a difference.” The air in the room went still. Holly’s sobs caught in her throat. She clearly hadn’t expected such bluntness from the poor, long-lost girl. Ethan’s brow furrowed. “Nora, what kind of way is that to talk?” I looked at my so-called brother. Twenty-five years old, CEO of Sterling Industries, known in the business world for his ruthless tactics. Right now, though, he looked less like a corporate shark and more like a mother hen protecting her favorite chick. “I’m just telling the truth.” I sank into a plush velvet sofa. It was softer than the bed I slept on at my foster parents’ house. “She did occupy my place for eighteen years. That’s a fact. Or were you hoping I’d say, ‘Oh, it’s okay, Holly, please, keep it’?” “You—!” Ethan started to rise, but Richard stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Nora’s just returned,” he said, clearing his throat. “This is an adjustment for everyone. Holly, why don’t you go up to your room and rest? Don’t forget to take your medication tonight.” Holly bit her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She gave me one last, wounded look before scurrying up the grand staircase. Her retreating form was the very picture of frail vulnerability. But I saw it. Just for a second, as she turned away, the corner of her mouth curved into a triumphant smirk. Not bad acting. Too bad she was dealing with me. 2 Dinner was a lavish spread of ten dishes and a soup, but everything was bland. Steamed fish, boiled vegetables, clear broth. It was all, I was told, for the sake of Holly’s weak heart. I took a bite of the fish. It tasted like cotton. “Nora,” Helen began, her voice hesitant and careful. “Over there… was life hard for you?” “Over there” was her delicate term for my foster home. I set down my fork. “You already ran a background check, didn’t you?” They must have, after the DNA results came back. They wouldn’t have shown up on my doorstep so quickly otherwise. “We just wanted to hear it from you,” Richard said softly, his voice full of practiced paternal concern. I offered a thin smile. “My foster father was a gambling addict. My foster mother lived for poker nights. I started working at ten to feed myself, and at fifteen, I started paying for their son’s education. But you probably know the specifics better than I do.” Helen’s eyes reddened. “Oh, Nora, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault…” “We’re trying to eat,” Ethan cut in sharply, his tone clipped. “Can we not ruin everyone’s appetite with these stories?” I leveled my gaze at him. “Does my past embarrass you, brother?” “That’s not what I meant.” “Then what did you mean?” “Ah!” Suddenly, Holly clutched her chest, her face turning pale. “My… my heart… it hurts.” Instantly, the family was in motion, a whirlwind of concern orbiting her. “Your pills! Quick!” Helen cried. “Should we go to the hospital?” Richard asked, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll call the family doctor right now!” Ethan declared, leaping from his chair. I just kept eating, my fork never pausing. Her performance was slipping. A real cardiac episode doesn’t leave you with enough breath to shout, nor does it grant you the impeccable timing to strike right as an argument is heating up. The family doctor arrived with impressive speed, confirmed it was just stress-induced palpitations, and prescribed rest. Helen escorted Holly upstairs, with Richard and Ethan trailing behind like a royal guard. The vast dining room fell silent, leaving me alone at the long, polished table. A maid moved to clear the plates. “I’m not finished,” I said, waving her away. I was full, of course, but I was going to sit there and finish my first meal in my real family’s home. Even if I had to do it alone. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from my foster mother. Where’s the money, you useless girl? This month’s payment is late. I blocked the number without a second thought. From this day forward, I wasn’t giving a dime to anyone. 3 My room was on the third floor, at the very end of the hall. It was a converted storage closet. When I pushed the door open, I froze. It was tiny, less than two hundred square feet, barely big enough for a single bed, a cheap wardrobe, and a small desk. That was it. The paint was peeling in places, and the single window overlooked the backyard’s garbage disposal area, a faint, sour smell wafting in on the evening breeze. On my way up, I had passed Holly’s room. The door was ajar, and I’d caught a glimpse of a pink canopy bed, a walk-in closet that took up an entire wall, and a private balcony overflowing with flowers. The contrast was staggering. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, stood in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral. “Miss, Mrs. Sterling said to apologize for the accommodations. They will arrange a better room for you in a few days.” I managed a smile. “No need to change it. This is fine. It’s quiet.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she just gave a tight nod and left, closing the door softly behind her. I opened my suitcase. It held a few worn-out clothes, but mostly books and notebooks. On top of the stack was my acceptance letter and final report card—top ten in the state. A score I had bled for. My foster parents never gave me a cent for tutoring. I taught myself everything. I woke up at 4 a.m. to study and didn’t sleep until well after midnight, spending my weekends waiting tables at a diner to earn enough to live. All that, just to get into Aurelia University, the best in the country. Meanwhile, I’d heard the Sterlings had spent a fortune on tutors for Holly, and she’d only managed to get into a second-rate community college. The irony was bitter. Around ten, I went downstairs for a glass of water and heard voices from the study. “…that Nora child is so cold,” Helen was saying, her voice laced with worry. “I’m worried she and Holly won’t get along.” “Holly’s heart can’t take any stress,” Richard proposed. “Perhaps… Nora could stay in the dorms at the university? It might be for the best.” “I think that’s a good idea,” Ethan immediately agreed. “Holly has been on edge lately. Having Nora in the house could easily trigger her condition.” I stood outside the door, listening to my biological family plot to kick me out. The reason? I might upset the fragile heart of the fake princess. What a joke. I pushed the door open. “No need to debate it. I’ll move out myself.” Three heads snapped in my direction, their expressions a mixture of shock and guilt. “Nora, you misunderstood!” Helen said, flustered. “That’s not what we meant!” “I didn’t misunderstand,” I cut her off. “You’re worried I’ll stress Holly out, so you want me to live on campus. It’s a logical solution. I agree.” Richard frowned. “Nora, are you angry with us?” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “No. I just think it’s a good proposal. An outsider like me shouldn’t disturb the peace of your perfect family of four.” “What do you mean, an outsider?” Helen cried, aghast. “You’re my daughter! My own flesh and blood!” “Oh, right,” I nodded. “Then why didn’t I hear you suggest, ‘Let’s have Holly move to a dorm so she doesn’t upset Nora’?” Helen was speechless. Ethan’s patience finally snapped. “Nora, can’t you be a little more considerate? Holly’s health is poor. Can’t you just cut her some slack for once?” I looked straight at him. “Ethan, my foster father was a gambling addict. One time, after a huge loss, he held a knife to my throat and tried to force me to take out a loan from a loan shark. I was sick that day, burning up with a fever of 103. Guess who cut me some slack then?” Ethan flinched as if I’d struck him. “No one,” I continued, my voice like ice. “So I learned a valuable lesson. No one in this world owes you anything. Holly’s health is her problem, not mine.” “How can you be so heartless?” Ethan slammed his hand on the polished mahogany desk. “Heartless?” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound that echoed in the quiet room. “Your precious ‘sister’ stole my life for eighteen years, and I’m heartless for stating a simple fact? What about you? Your real daughter comes home, and the first thing you do is figure out how to get rid of her. What does that make you?” The study was utterly silent. I turned to leave. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone by tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to be an eyesore.” 4 The next morning, I was packing my few belongings when Holly appeared at my door, dressed in a pink silk pajama set. She looked the picture of innocence. “Sister, are you leaving?” “What’s it to you?” I said, not looking up from folding a t-shirt. She stepped inside, her voice a soft, conspiratorial whisper. “You don’t have to pretend to be so strong, you know. It must hurt so much, being rejected by your own parents.” I stopped packing and turned to face her. “I heard them last night,” she went on, a hint of mock sympathy lacing her voice. “Talking about you moving out. You must have been heartbroken. It’s okay, you can cry if you want to. I won’t tell.” “You were eavesdropping.” It wasn’t a question. She smiled sweetly. “I was just passing by. Do you know why they don’t love you, sister?” I played along, intrigued by her audacity. “Why?” “Because I’ve been in this family for eighteen years! My pictures are on every wall, my trophies fill the cabinets. They remember every single one of my birthdays. And you,” she paused for dramatic effect, “you are a blank slate. A stranger.” “And?” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “There’s no room for you here. Even if you’re the real one, you’re still just… extra.” I laughed. So, the mask was already coming off. “Holly,” I whispered back, mirroring her tone, “do you know what DNA is?” She blinked, confused. “It’s proof of blood. It doesn’t matter how many years you lived here, or how many of your pictures are on the wall. You will always be the fake. And me,” I pointed a thumb at my chest, “I don’t have to do a single thing to be the real one.” The color drained from her face. “Also,” I said, grabbing my suitcase, “who told you I was moving out? I’m just going to my university to pick something up. This is my house. Why would I leave?” I dragged my suitcase downstairs and ran right into Ethan, who was on his way out for the day. He saw my bag and frowned. “Where are you going?” “Campus.” “I’ll drive you.” “Not necessary.” “I said, I’ll drive you,” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. I shrugged. Fine. The car ride was tense and silent. Just as we were nearing the university, he finally spoke. “About last night… don’t take it to heart.” “Okay.” “Mom and Dad don’t dislike you. It’s just… Holly’s condition really is delicate. They worry.” “Okay.” “Can you stop just saying ‘okay’?” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. I turned to him, my expression unreadable. “What would you like me to say? ‘Oh, it’s fine, Ethan, I completely understand’? Or maybe, ‘I’ll be sure to take extra special care of poor, fragile Holly’?” He rubbed his temples, a gesture of pure exasperation. “Can’t you just be normal?” “What’s normal?” I shot back. “Faking a heart attack every time you don’t get your way? Crying at the drop of a hat? Is that your definition of normal?” “Holly doesn’t fake it!” he insisted, his jaw tight. I could have rolled my eyes, but I kept them fixed on him. “Ethan, are you genuinely stupid, or just pretending to be? Do you really think someone having a cardiac episode can time it perfectly to interrupt an argument and still manage to look tragically beautiful while doing it?” His hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “You don’t know the first thing about Holly.” “You’re right, I don’t,” I said, opening the car door. “But I do know what a real heart condition looks like. My foster mother’s sister had one. When she had an attack, her face turned blue and she couldn’t even speak, let alone weep dramatically.” I slammed the door shut, leaving him sitting there, stewing in the driver’s seat. I saw in the reflection that he didn’t drive away for a long, long time. 5 My trip to campus was to officially register for my classes. The acceptance letter from Aurelia University was my proudest possession. After finishing the paperwork, I stopped by the bank. My account held just over twenty thousand dollars, a mix of savings from years of part-time jobs and royalties from my writing. That was my secret. I was an online author, writing under the pen name “Luna Thirteen.” My genre was gritty, realistic fiction—tearjerkers. My readers often commented on how painfully real my stories felt. They had no idea they were reading chapters of my own life. As I was about to leave, the bank manager hurried over. “Miss Sterling? A new account was just opened for you. It’s a supplementary card from Mr. Richard Sterling.” He handed me a sleek, black credit card. I glanced at the credit limit. It had seven figures. It must be nice to be rich. I pocketed the card but had no intention of using it. When I got back to the Sterling mansion, it was lunchtime. At the dining table, Holly was seated next to Helen, the two of them chatting like best friends. When she saw me, Holly’s face lit up with a saccharine smile. “Sister, you’re back! Come, sit and eat with us.” I took a seat and noticed my place was set at the far end of the table, isolating me from the family cluster. I also noticed that their plates were fine bone china, while mine was plain ceramic. The little details always tell the real story. “Nora,” Helen said suddenly, “Holly’s birthday is next week. We’re planning a large party for her. We’d love for you to be there.” “It’s my birthday next week, too,” I reminded her. The air grew thick with a sudden, awkward silence. Of course. Holly and I were born on the same day, in the same hospital. That’s how the switch happened in the first place. Helen recovered quickly. “Oh! Well… then we’ll celebrate together!” “That’s not necessary,” Holly said, her voice dripping with false magnanimity. “Sister just got back; she’s probably not used to big, formal events. We should have a party just for me. For Sister’s birthday, we can have a quiet celebration, just the family.” Translation: a grand, public birthday party is for me, Holly Sterling, the beloved princess. You, Nora, don’t deserve the spotlight. Richard nodded in agreement. “Holly has a point. Nora has just returned; it’s probably best to keep things low-key for her.” Ethan chimed in. “Besides, Nora doesn’t seem like the type who enjoys that kind of scene.” I put down my fork. “You all are truly something else.” “What’s that, dear?” Helen asked, confused. “Holly and I have the same birthday. You’re going to throw her a lavish party, invite the city’s elite, and publicly declare her the cherished daughter of the Sterling family. And me? I get a ‘quiet celebration at home’.” I stood up, my voice calm but sharp. “You’re sending a message to everyone that the Sterling family only acknowledges one daughter, and that even though I’m the real one, I’m not fit for public display.” “You’re overthinking it, Nora. That’s not what we meant,” Richard began to explain. “That is exactly what you meant,” I interrupted. “But don’t worry. I wouldn’t be caught dead at your stupid party anyway.” I turned and walked upstairs, leaving them in stunned silence. Behind me, I heard the familiar sound of Holly’s theatrical sobs beginning. “It’s all my fault… I won’t have a party… we can celebrate for Sister instead…” followed by a chorus of comforting murmurs. The same old play, the same old actors. 6 That night, Helen knocked on my door. “Nora, may I come in?” I was reading, and didn’t look up. “It’s open.” She entered, carrying a bowl of soup. “I had the kitchen make this for you. Please, have some.” I didn’t take it. “I’m not hungry.” She placed the bowl on my desk and sat on the edge of my bed. “Nora, I know you’re upset with us.” “I’m not.” “Please, just listen to me,” she sighed. “Holly’s poor health is real. She was born with a congenital heart defect. The doctors told us she might not live past twenty.” I finally looked up at her. “That’s why we’ve always… spoiled her. We just wanted her to be happy for the time she has left.” Helen’s eyes were red. “Can’t you understand, Nora?” I looked at her, my gaze unwavering. “So?” “So… could you please just try to be a little more lenient with her?” I laughed, a humorless sound. “Mom, let me ask you a question.” “What is it?” “If I had been born with a congenital heart defect, would you be asking Holly to be lenient with me?” Helen stared at me, dumbfounded. “You wouldn’t,” I answered for her. “Because in your heart, Holly is the daughter you raised for eighteen years. I’m just a stranger who shares your blood.” “That’s not true!” I closed my book. “You should go, Mom. I’m tired.” She looked like she wanted to argue, but in the end, she just picked up the untouched soup and left without another word. Later that night, I heard the sound of a piano from the room next door. It was Holly, practicing. She was playing “Für Elise.” Badly. The next morning at breakfast, Holly looked exhausted. “I was up so late practicing the piano last night, I barely slept a wink.” Helen looked at her with concern. “Don’t push yourself so hard, darling. Your health comes first.” Ethan placed a piece of bacon on her plate. “Eat up. You need your strength.” I sipped my juice, saying nothing. “Sister,” Holly said suddenly, turning to me. “You play the piano too, right?” She knew I had heard her last night. This was a direct challenge. “A little,” I said flatly. “Oh, wonderful!” she clapped her hands together with glee. “Could you teach me? There are a few parts I just can’t get right.” Helen immediately latched on. “Nora, if you have time, you should help your sister.” I put down my glass. “I don’t have time.” The mood at the table soured. Ethan frowned. “What would it hurt to help her for a few minutes?” “It would waste my time,” I said, standing up. “Her basic technique is all wrong. I have no interest in teaching someone from scratch.” “How would you know my technique is wrong?” Holly retorted, offended. I gave her a deadpan look. “In the third bar of ‘Für Elise,’ your fingering is incorrect. In the seventh bar, your rhythm is off. In the eleventh, you failed to control the dynamics. Should I continue?” The color drained from Holly’s face. I had only heard her play it once, through a wall, and had memorized every single one of her mistakes. That’s what you call talent. 7 Three days before the birthday, the house was a flurry of activity. Party planners, florists, and stylists bustled about, all of them focused on Holly. I was invisible, and no one asked me what I wanted or needed. It was peaceful, in a way. That afternoon, Holly came into my room without knocking. She was holding a small, elegantly wrapped box. “Sister, I got you a birthday present!” I didn’t look at it. “I don’t want it.” “Oh, don’t be like that,” she said, perching on my bed. “I truly want us to get along.” “Do you?” “Of course!” She opened the box to reveal a delicate diamond necklace. It was a classic design from a luxury brand, probably worth about fifty thousand dollars. Pocket change for the Sterlings. But her claiming it was her “favorite” was what made it interesting. “I’m giving you my favorite necklace.” “I don’t want it,” I repeated, turning a page in my book. “Sister,” she said, suddenly grabbing my hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “I know you hate me. You hate me for taking your place. But it’s not my fault! I’m a victim in all this, too. I wish I had my real parents.” Her eyes began to well up as she spoke. I pulled my hand away. “Who’s the audience for this performance?” Her tears began to fall in earnest. “I’m not performing! Do you have any idea what it’s like? Every time Mom and Dad call me Holly, I wish I was their real daughter. But I’m not! I never will be!” Right on cue, the door creaked open, and Helen appeared. “Holly, darling, why are you crying?” Perfect timing. Holly threw herself into Helen’s arms. “Mom, sister won’t accept my gift! Is it because… because I’m not worthy of giving her one?” Helen shot me a furious glare. “Nora! Holly was being kind to you. How could you treat her this way?” I closed my book and spoke slowly and deliberately. “First, I didn’t ask for a gift. Second, I have the right to refuse it. Third, why she’s crying is none of my business.” “You!” Helen was trembling with rage. “How can you be so cold and heartless!” Cold and heartless. That was the second time I’d heard that today. “Mom,” I said, standing up. “Have you ever stopped to wonder why Holly only ever seems to have these dramatic crying spells when you’re about to walk into the room?” “What are you implying?” “I’m implying she’s putting on a show,” I said, walking towards the door. “She knew what time you’d be coming to my room, so she came here beforehand with her little gift, ready to burst into tears the second you opened the door. Her goal was to make you think I’m bullying her.” Helen shook her head in disbelief. “Holly would never do something like that!” “Believe what you want,” I said, pushing past them. “Excuse me. I need to get out of here.” As I reached the top of the stairs, I glanced back. Holly, still nestled in Helen’s arms, looked over her mother’s shoulder and shot me a triumphant, teary-eyed smile. I smiled back. I’ve seen this cheap little trick a thousand times before. 8 The day before my birthday, a package arrived for me. It was from Aurelia University, with my class schedule and dorm assignment. I had applied for early move-in. I could be out of here next week. Perfect. That evening, relatives started to arrive for Holly’s party the next day. They all swarmed around Holly, cooing over how beautiful and talented she was. No one paid any attention to me in the corner. Until an elderly woman with a stern face approached me. “You must be Nora.” I looked up. It was Richard’s mother, my grandmother. “Grandma,” I said, standing up. She looked me up and down, her eyes critical. “Well, you certainly look like a Sterling.” The phrasing was subtle. I looked like one, but that didn’t mean I was one. “I hear you’ve had a difficult life,” she said. “It was manageable.” “Manageable?” she scoffed. “I heard all about your foster parents. What kind of person can a child from that environment possibly grow up to be?” I looked at her calmly. “You’re right, Grandma. I didn’t turn out to be much.” She blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree with her. “Not like Holly,” I continued, my voice sweet as poison. “Raised like a princess, a master of piano and dance. By the way, which university did she get into again?” The old woman’s face soured. Holly’s acceptance into a third-rate college was a sore spot for the family. “Your granddaughter might not have turned out to be much,” I said, smiling, “but I got lucky. I was accepted into Aurelia University.” I paused. “The number one university in the country. You’ve heard of it, right?” Her face was turning a blotchy red. “You—!” “Grandma, don’t be angry,” Holly said, appearing at the perfect moment to support her wilting grandmother. “Sister didn’t mean it.” “See? Holly is always so considerate,” the old woman said, patting Holly’s hand before shooting me one last withering look and walking away. Holly turned to me, her brow furrowed with concern. “Sister, why did you have to upset Grandma?” “I was just telling the truth.” “But—” “Holly,” I interrupted. “Aren’t you tired?” “What?” “Pretending to be the perfect, obedient girl for eighteen years. Doesn’t it get exhausting?” I leaned in close. “I know what you are.” Her expression flickered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sister.” “It’s better if you don’t,” I said, turning and walking away. 9 On the morning of our birthday, the Sterling mansion was a scene of controlled chaos. Makeup artists and hair stylists buzzed around Holly, transforming her into a princess. I was in my room, packing the last of my things to move into the dorm. Helen knocked and entered. “Nora, aren’t you going to get ready?” “Ready for what?” “For the party tonight.” I looked up at her. “I thought you said I didn’t have to attend.” “Well, not attend, exactly, but…” she stammered, embarrassed. “You could watch from upstairs. And come down for some food if you get hungry.” Ah. So I was to be hidden away, kept out of sight of the guests. “I understand.” Helen looked relieved and turned to leave. “Mom,” I called out. She stopped. “Have you ever thought that if the switch had never happened, I would be the one downstairs in the beautiful dress, surrounded by everyone?” Her body went rigid. “And Holly would be somewhere in a small town, worrying about how to pay for college.” “Nora…” “I’m not trying to steal her party,” I said with a small, sad smile. “I just want you to understand how strange fate can be.” Helen fled from the room as if escaping a fire. At seven p.m., the guests began to arrive. I watched from my third-floor window as luxury cars streamed into the driveway, depositing the wealthiest and most powerful people in the city. Holly, in a custom-made gown, glided through the crowd, accepting accolades like a true queen. Richard gave a speech, calling her the Sterling family’s most beloved treasure. Ethan gifted her a brand-new sports car. Helen presented her with a stunning set of jewels. For Holly, her eighteenth birthday was a fairytale. I remembered my last birthday. I had spent it in the back kitchen of the diner where I worked. The owner, taking pity on me, gave me a day-old cupcake. I pulled out my phone, logged into my “Luna Thirteen” account, and posted a status: It’s my birthday today. Happy birthday to me. Within seconds, the comments poured in. Happy birthday, Luna! Author, when’s the next book coming out? Happy birthday! Happy birthday! We’ll always support you! I smiled. See? Someone remembered my birthday. Even if they didn’t know who I really was. 10 I was scrolling through the comments when my door opened. It was Ethan, holding a small cake with a single candle. “Happy birthday.” I looked at him, surprised. He looked uncomfortable. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Mom sent me.” The cake was tiny. The frosting just said “Happy Birthday,” without even a name. “Thanks,” I said, taking it from him. He lingered in the doorway. “You’re not angry?” “About what?” “About… downstairs.” “That’s Holly’s party. It has nothing to do with me,” I said, opening the cake box. “I don’t care about any of that.” He frowned. “Can’t you just act normal for once?” I looked up at him. “What’s normal? Throwing a tantrum and demanding to be the center of attention? Is that what you want?” He was silent. “Ethan,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Do you know why I worked so hard to get into Aurelia University?” “Why?” “Because I knew I had to rely on myself.” I took a bite of the cake. It was sickeningly sweet. “I don’t need the Sterlings’ charity. I don’t need your pity. And I certainly don’t need you to ‘cut me some slack.’ I have hands, and I have a brain. I can make my own way in this world.” He just stared at me. “So stop looking at me like I’m some pathetic creature you need to feel sorry for,” I said with a small smile. “I, Nora Sterling, am not pitiful.” After a long silence, he finally asked, “Do you hate us?” I shook my head. “Hate requires an emotional connection. We don’t have one.” The words hit him like a physical blow. His face paled, and he turned and left. At the door, he paused. “You know, Nora, you’re too rational. You don’t act like an eighteen-year-old girl.” I looked out the window at the glittering city lights. “I stopped being a girl when I was ten.” The year I turned ten, my foster father brought his gambling buddies home for the first time. When he lost, he tried to shove me towards them, to pour their drinks and entertain them. From that day on, I knew I had to be strong, had to be rational. Because no one was ever going to protect me. After Ethan left, I finished the entire cake by myself. It was so sweet it made my teeth ache. The party music from downstairs didn’t stop until the early hours of the morning. 11 The next day, I moved into my dorm at Aurelia University. The only people home when I left were the maids. Richard and Helen had taken Holly to the hospital, claiming she was suffering from post-party excitement that had stressed her heart. Ethan was at the office. It was better that way. No goodbyes necessary. My dorm was a quad, and I was the first to arrive. After unpacking, I went to the library. It was enormous, a temple of knowledge with millions of books. I found a quiet corner, opened my laptop, and started writing a new story. This time, I decided, it would have a happy ending. Even if I couldn’t have one in real life, I could create one on the page. I wrote until evening, when my phone rang. It was Helen. “Nora, where are you? You’re not at home.” “I moved into my dorm.” “What? Why didn’t you tell us?” “Would it have mattered if I did?” The line went silent. “Just take good care of Holly,” I said. “I’m fine.” I hung up and went back to writing. When I got back to my room, my roommates had arrived. They were three friendly, normal girls. One of them looked at me with a flash of recognition. “Wait, aren’t you that… the Sterling girl?” “Yeah,” I said, knowing what she meant. The story of the long-lost Sterling heiress had made a few headlines. “Then why are you living in a dorm?” another roommate asked, curious. “The house was a little crowded,” I said vaguely. They took the hint and changed the subject. That night, lying in my narrow dorm bed, listening to the sound of their laughter and chatter, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. Here, I wasn’t the real daughter or the replacement. I was just Nora, a freshman at Aurelia University.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384845”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After falling for a guy with nothing to his name, I hid the fact that I was an heiress. I wanted to build a life with him, starting from the ground up, working my way up from the bottom right beside him. But on the eve of our wedding, I walked in on him with his boss. “That woman, Jenna… she’s plain and broke. She’s not worth a single hair on your head, Melissa.” “I’m counting on you to help me climb the ladder.” A sharp pain bloomed in my palm as my nails dug into my skin, the only thing stopping me from throwing the door open and confronting them. I tore the ten-million-dollar contract in my hands to shreds, then sent a text to my father. “I’m coming home. I’ll do the merger.” 1 The lights in our small walk-up apartment were still on. When Caleb pushed the door open, he found me sitting on the sofa. “Jenna? You’re still up?” He slipped off his jacket, his voice gentle, as if nothing was wrong. As if the world hadn’t just shattered. I looked up, my eyes meeting his. There, on the collar of his shirt, was a tell-tale crimson stain. A smear of lipstick. “Working late?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. He nodded, tossing his jacket onto the sofa and moving in to hug me. “Yeah, project’s on a tight deadline. I’m exhausted.” The cloying, expensive perfume I knew belonged to Melissa Vance clung to him, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I shifted away, forcing a brittle smile. “I’m a little tired myself.” I hesitated, then decided to give him one last chance. A final test. “Caleb, what do you think of me?” His expression froze for a fraction of a second before he stretched his lips into a stiff smile. “You’re the best person in the world, of course. You never looked down on me for being poor. You’ve always taken care of me.” My fingertips trembled. I scoffed silently. “Is that all?” His gaze flickered between me and the clock on the wall, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Of course not. I love you more than anything.” “And what if someone better came along?” I pressed, my voice unyielding. “Someone with money? Someone who could give you a future?” “Did you hear some rumor?” he asked, a hint of panic in his voice. “We’re about to get married, Jenna. I would never want anyone else.” I stared at him, my eyes brimming with a mockery he couldn’t see. “You’re sure?” “Of course!” He grabbed my hand. His palm was damp, but his tone was painfully sincere. “I’ve wanted to marry you for so long. I just couldn’t afford it before.” He was always like this—a master of feigned sincerity. But beneath the surface… ha. I pulled my hand away and stood up, my voice turning to ice. “What about Melissa Vance?” The smile vanished from his face. “What about her?” “Nothing,” I said, the single word heavy with all my disappointment. “Get some sleep.” I gave him a chance. He didn’t take it. So be it. 2 The next morning, I gathered all my documents and went straight to the office. The glass door to Human Resources reflected the sterile, fluorescent glow of the office. When I pushed it open, Melissa Vance was leaning against a desk, her long, crimson nails tapping against a file. She was poured into a tight black dress, the gold senior executive pin on her lapel catching the light. “Well, well. If it isn’t our star assistant, Jenna,” she drawled, putting a venomous emphasis on the word assistant. “You’re in early. Here to quit?” The HR manager, a kind older woman named Kate, stood awkwardly to the side, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. I calmly placed my resignation letter on the desk. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’d like it processed as soon as possible.” Melissa’s hand shot out, pressing down on the paper. “What’s the rush?” She leaned closer, her perfume making my temples throb. “You know, Caleb was at my place last night. We were ‘working’ very late.” She ran a suggestive finger over a faint red mark on her neck, her voice dripping with provocation. “Young men have so much… stamina.” My nails dug deeper into my palm. Just then, the door swung open and Caleb rushed in, a stack of files in his arms. “Melissa, here are the reports you—” His voice died in his throat. Three pairs of eyes met in the suffocating silence. Caleb’s tie was crooked, and another faint lipstick smear stained his collar. The sight of me sent a jolt of panic across his face. “Jenna? What are you doing here?” “Just taking care of some business with Ms. Vance,” I said, my voice as sharp as broken glass. “After all, you seem to enjoy how she… takes care of business, don’t you?” Melissa let out a short, sharp laugh and patted Caleb’s shoulder intimately. “Your girlfriend is a real character.” She turned back to me, her lips curling into a sneer. “Jenna, you’re just a broke kid with a useless degree. Nobody’s going to hire you after you leave here. Isn’t that right, our future director?” Caleb just stood there, his lips moving silently. Finally, he lowered his head and started shuffling the perfectly organized stack of papers. His silence was more damning than any confession. I snatched my signed departure form. As I turned to leave, I gave Caleb one last look. “You know, I was packing up my things yesterday and found that necklace you gave me.” His head shot up. I smiled, a cold, cutting thing. “It’s a fake.” Walking out of the building, the sky was a heavy, oppressive gray. I took a deep breath and dialed my father’s number. “Dad, I quit. I’ll be home tomorrow.” On the other end, I could hear the relief in his voice. “Good. Just come home.” I hung up and glanced back at the office tower where I’d wasted three years of my life. My heart was a block of ice. Back in the apartment, the fluorescent lights buzzed, casting a sickly white glow. Caleb followed me in as I shoved the last of my sweaters into a suitcase. “Jenna, don’t be like this!” he pleaded, grabbing my wrist. There was real fear in his voice now. “There’s nothing going on between me and Melissa! She’s just… you know, very forward.” I wrenched my arm free and pulled a velvet box from a drawer. Inside lay the “gold” necklace he’d supposedly saved up three months’ salary to buy. I threw it into the trash can. The clatter of cheap metal was deafening. “Forward enough to leave hickeys on your neck? Forward enough that you’ve worn the same shirt for three days straight?” I pointed to the laundry rack on the balcony, closing my eyes against the sting of tears. “Caleb, every single day when I washed your shirt, all I could smell was her perfume!” The color drained from his face. “Let me explain.” “Explain what?” I shot back, my voice dripping with scorn. “Explain how you told her in the conference room that I was plain and poor? Or explain how you threw away your dignity for a promotion?” A sudden downpour started outside, raindrops lashing against the window like a thousand tiny slaps. Caleb sank onto the edge of the bed, defeated. “I know I’m not good enough for you,” he mumbled, his voice a mix of sorrow and something uglier—a calculated threat. “But this promotion is everything to me. How am I supposed to marry you without it?” It felt like ants were crawling under my skin. I zipped up my suitcase. The sound of the metal teeth locking together felt like an ending. “Believe whatever you want.” With that, I turned and walked to the door. “Where are you going?” he scrambled up, blocking my way. “Business trip,” I lied, my heart cold. “Last-minute thing. I’ll be gone a week.” He opened his mouth, then closed it, letting out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Be safe. Come back soon.” I didn’t answer. I just pulled my suitcase behind me and walked out of that apartment, and out of that life, for good. 3 The day after I returned home, my father arranged for me to meet my intended. In the sun-drenched parlor of the Sinclair Estate, the front doors swung open, and the Earl Grey tea I was sipping caught in my throat. The man standing there was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, a wry smile playing on his lips. It was my childhood rival, the one person I could never stand. “Julian Croft! What are you doing here?” I slammed my cup down, the clatter startling a black cat outside the window. “Disappointed to see me?” Julian asked, slowly polishing his gold-rimmed glasses. His voice was as infuriating as I remembered. “I heard the great Jenna Sinclair ran away from home for love. I came back just to see the show.” The lenses of his glasses caught the light, and his eyes curved into a dangerous arc. “I didn’t expect to find a drowned rat.” I hurled a silk cushion at him, my face flushing with anger. “You’re the rat!” He caught it effortlessly, his playful demeanor suddenly vanishing. “I heard the guy was sleeping with his boss.” When I didn’t answer, he let out a short, harsh laugh. “I told you. The first thing a man like that throws away when he gets a taste of money is his conscience.” “What do you know!” I shot up from my seat, ready to defend… what? I didn’t even know anymore. “At least he—” “At least he what?” Julian stood too, his tall frame casting a shadow over me. “Cooked you soup when you had a cold? Made you breakfast?” He reached out, his fingers closing around my chin, forcing me to meet his searching gaze. “Jenna, when did you get so cheap?” I slapped his hand away, but his next words stopped me cold. “So, what do you say? Want to marry me?” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Why not?” he pressed. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see my father and his, old Mr. Croft, chatting amiably in the garden. I stared at the diamond tie pin on Julian’s tie and crossed my arms. “I want the wedding of the century. I want every media outlet there.” He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “And?” I met his gaze, my voice steady and cold as steel. “And on my wedding day, I want Caleb to watch, in person, as Melissa Vance’s company goes bankrupt.” Julian threw his head back and laughed, a rich, genuine sound that filled the room. He reached out and ruffled my hair. “Now that’s the Jenna Sinclair I know.” 4 The wedding was set for the following week, and it was an affair of breathtaking extravagance. I stood in the dressing room, my hands clammy in the couture gown. Julian pushed the door open and saw my nerves. “Having second thoughts?” he teased. I shot him a glare. “Shut up.” He chuckled, stepping forward to adjust my veil. “Relax. I’m here. No one will dare laugh at you.” I paused, and for a fleeting moment, I thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so bad after all. On the guest registry, Caleb’s name was crammed into a corner. As Melissa’s “plus-one,” he’d been seated at an extra table in the very back. I could see him fawning over her, pouring champagne, his eyes darting hungrily toward the lavish gift tables. Then, the wedding march began. As I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm, I saw Caleb’s back go rigid out of the corner of my eye. The champagne flute in his hand tipped, spilling red wine all over Melissa’s dress. “What the hell are you doing?” Her shriek turned a few heads. But Caleb didn’t hear her. He was staring, transfixed, at the diamond-encrusted belt on my wedding gown. The one he’d once said he could never afford in a thousand lifetimes. “And now, the bride and groom will exchange rings,” the officiant announced. Julian deliberately lifted my left hand high, letting the ten-carat pink diamond catch the spotlights and explode with light. “You may now kiss your bride.” The second the words were spoken, Julian lifted my veil and his lips met mine. The hall erupted in applause. In my peripheral vision, I saw Caleb stumble forward, trying to push through the crowd, only to be blocked by security. “Jenna!” he cried out, his voice raw with anguish. The orchestra swelled, perfectly timed, drowning him out. Julian wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning in to whisper in my ear, “Care for a bit more drama?” Before I could answer, he turned back to the microphone. “Thank you all for coming. We’d especially like to thank my wife’s former colleagues for joining us.” The spotlight operator took the cue, swinging the beam directly onto Caleb’s pale, horrified face. He nervously clutched the lapels of his cheap suit, his jaw tight with rage. “Jenna, how could you marry someone else? Was it just for the money?!” Julian let out a cold laugh, his voice laced with contempt. “Money? Mr. Evans, I think you’re confusing my wife with yourself.” He paused for effect. “You see, you seem to be under the impression that you were dating a simple assistant.” The spotlight seemed to burn brighter. “My wife… is Jenna Sinclair. Heiress to the Sinclair Corporation.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384844”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day they buried Elara Vance, her son appeared at my studio. “Mom said that if… if she was gone, I should come find you.” “You knew my mom, didn’t you, miss?” Those clear eyes, a perfect, haunting echo of Elara’s, stabbed at me like shards of glass. I was about to coldly turn him away when I saw the birthmark behind his ear. It was a small, heart-shaped mark, crimson against his pale skin. In the exact same spot as the one on my son—the son who had lived for only three days before he was taken from me, ten years ago. It was identical. A thought so monstrous it made my entire body tremble exploded in my mind. The world went dark, and I had to grip the doorframe to stay upright. “What… what’s your name?” “Leo,” the boy whispered, his voice laced with a fear he was trying to hide. “Leo Blackwood.” Blackwood. Adrian Blackwood’s son. The name ripped open the scar on my heart, a wound I thought had closed a decade ago, and it bled anew. Ten years ago, I, Stella Morgan, was the official Mrs. Blackwood. And Elara Vance was the woman my husband, Adrian, had always loved. The one that got away. My son was born and lived for three days before the doctors declared he had died from a sudden, aggressive infection. Adrian wasn’t even there. It was his mother, my impossibly poised and powerful mother-in-law, Meredith Blackwood, who handled everything with cold efficiency. She wouldn’t even let me see him one last time, claiming it would be too much for my fragile state. Soon after, broken in body and spirit, I signed the divorce papers. I set Adrian free to be with his true love. I had always believed that Elara’s existence had indirectly led to my son’s death. That she was the one who had destroyed my life. And so, I hated her. But now, her son was standing before me, bearing the same birthmark as mine. In that instant, my decade of hatred was drowned by a tidal wave of absurdity and terror. I stepped aside, my voice a dry rasp. “Come in.” The studio was a chaotic mess of canvases and scattered art supplies—a perfect reflection of the island I had made of my life for the past ten years. Leo was unnaturally quiet for a child. He stood hesitantly at the door, clutching a faded blue backpack, not daring to take another step inside. “Sit,” I said, pointing to the only clean sofa. He shuffled over and perched on the edge, his small hands gripping the straps of his bag. I fought down the storm raging inside me and stared at the red mark behind his ear. It was too similar. No, it was exact. Even the placement was perfect. “Your mother… Elara. How did she die?” I lit a cigarette, my hand trembling so violently I could barely hold the lighter. Leo looked at me with a vacant expression, as if struggling to process the question. His reactions were slow, delayed. After a long pause, he whispered, “Mom… fell asleep.” “The policeman said she fell asleep while she was driving.” A car crash. I took a deep drag, and the harsh smoke sent me into a fit of coughing. The sound startled Leo, and he flinched, curling into himself like a frightened animal. The sight sent a strange pang through my chest. “Kid, how old are you?” He thought for another long moment. “Nine… almost ten.” The timeline matched. An invisible hand squeezed my heart, and I could barely breathe. “What about your father? Why isn’t he here to get you?” At the mention of his father, Leo’s gaze fell to the floor. “Dad’s… busy.” The same excuse. The exact same words Adrian used ten years ago. I stubbed out the cigarette and began to pace, the agitation unbearable. Something was wrong. None of this made sense. If Leo was truly Elara and Adrian’s son, why wouldn’t Adrian have taken him in the second she died? Why would Elara’s final wish be for her son to find me, her supposed rival? It was completely illogical. Unless… Unless Adrian didn’t know. Or worse, he had been lied to as well. I walked over to Leo and crouched down in front of him. “What’s in the bag? Let me see.” He hesitated, then obediently slipped it off his shoulders. I unzipped it. Inside, along with a few drawing pads and a worn-out Transformer toy, was a white, unlabeled pill bottle. “What’s this?” “Grandma’s smart pills,” he answered quietly. “She said I have to take them every day, or I’ll get dumb and Mom won’t like me anymore.” Grandma? Meredith. A roar filled my ears. A chill shot up from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. Why would Meredith Blackwood be feeding Elara’s son mysterious, unlabeled drugs? Could it be… I couldn’t let my mind go there. Not yet. I pocketed the bottle and looked at the small face before me—a face that was the spitting image of Elara, but with the ghost of Adrian in his features. My emotions were a tangled, violent mess. “Tonight, you’ll stay here,” I finally said. “Tomorrow, I’m taking you home.” And by home, I meant our home. Leo was heartbreakingly obedient. I told him to take a shower, and he silently padded into the bathroom. After a while, I realized I hadn’t heard any water running. I pushed the door open to find him on his tiptoes, struggling awkwardly with the showerhead, which was mounted far too high for him. He didn’t even know how to turn on the hot water. I sighed and went in, adjusting the temperature for him. As the warm water streamed over his small, thin body, I saw them. His thin arms and back were a constellation of bruises, angry purples and faded yellows, new injuries laid over old ones. They looked like fingerprints, like the marks of a strap or a stick. My hand froze. A crushing weight settled on my chest. “Who did this?” Leo flinched and quickly tried to cover the marks, his head bowed in silence. “Answer me!” My voice came out sharper than I intended. He trembled, tears welling in his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall. “It was… I was bad… I made Grandma angry…” Meredith again! That woman. To me, she had always been the picture of grace and aristocratic poise. But behind closed doors, she was capable of this? Hurting a child so cruelly? Even if Leo wasn’t her biological grandson, he was still Adrian’s son! Even vipers don’t eat their young. How could she? I swallowed my fury, finished his shower, and found an old t-shirt of mine for him to wear. The huge shirt hung off his tiny frame, making him look even more fragile. “Don’t you ever say you were bad again. Ever.” I led him to the sofa and took out a first-aid kit, gently dabbing ointment on his bruises with a cotton swab. He sat stiffly, letting me tend to him without a sound. “Tell me if it hurts.” “It doesn’t hurt,” he whispered. “Mommy used to kiss it and make it better.” At the mention of Elara, I paused. “Was she… good to you?” “Mommy was the best,” Leo said, his eyes lighting up for a second before the sadness returned. “But she was always sad. She would hold me and cry.” “She also told me… to grow up fast. To run. And not to get caught.” Run? Get caught by whom? My mind was a chaotic storm. Elara’s death, Meredith’s abuse, the mysterious “smart pills,” the warning to run… every clue was pointing toward a single, terrifying truth. Just then, my phone rang. It was a number I hadn’t seen in ten years. Adrian. I walked out to the balcony and answered. “Stella.” His voice was tired and hoarse. “Elara… she’s gone.” “I know,” I said, my voice ice. “I saw the news.” “Her son… Leo. He’s missing. Did she… did she ever contact you?” The question was laced with a desperate, probing hope. I let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Did you forget, Adrian? We got divorced ten years ago. The love of your life is dead, her son is missing, and you think I would know where he is?” “You destroyed my life. Now you want my help finding your son? Do you deserve it?” I twisted the knife without mercy. A long silence stretched between us, filled only by the sound of his heavy breathing. “Stella, I’m sorry…” “Save your cheap apologies,” I cut him off. “Don’t call me again.” I hung up. When I went back inside, Leo had curled up on the sofa and fallen asleep. Even in his dreams, his brow was furrowed, his small hand clutching the hem of his shirt in a gesture of pure anxiety. I looked at the heart-shaped birthmark behind his ear, and a part of my soul I thought was long dead simply collapsed. I gently covered him with a blanket. Then, I called my family’s private physician. “Dr. Alistair, I have something I need you to analyze. I need the results as soon as possible.” “No matter how late it is. Call me the second you know.” I didn’t sleep that night. I sat by the sofa, watching Leo, the scenes from the hospital ten years ago playing on a loop in my mind: the sterile room, Meredith’s cold face, the weightless piece of paper that was a death certificate. Everything I had accepted as truth now seemed riddled with lies. Elara, what secrets did you die with? Did you send my son back to me out of guilt, or was there something more? The next morning, I met Bella at a café. Bella. My former “best friend.” After my divorce, she was the only one who kept in touch. And for ten years, she had been the one to faithfully report every detail of Adrian and Elara’s “happy life” to me. “Stella, you look amazing! You haven’t aged a day,” Bella said, stirring her latte with a bright, concerned smile. “But Elara… the last time I saw her, she looked so worn out. I don’t know what Adrian was thinking, letting her go like that.” I took a sip of my coffee, hiding the cold fury in my eyes. “Really? I thought she was doing wonderfully.” “Wonderfully? Please,” Bella scoffed, leaning in and lowering her voice. “You know Meredith never approved of her. Thought she was common, from the wrong side of the tracks.” “If she hadn’t given Adrian a son, she never would have gotten a foot in the Blackwood door.” “But,” Bella added, her tone thick with envy, “Meredith absolutely dotes on Leo. Spoils that grandson of hers rotten.” “Flies in all sorts of special supplements and smart pills from Europe, and personally makes sure he takes them every day. God forbid the sole Blackwood heir be neglected for a second.” My hand clenched around my cup. Hot coffee sloshed onto my skin, but I didn’t feel a thing. Smart pills. There it was again. “You know, Elara’s accident was so strange,” Bella said, a thoughtful, pitying look on her face. “The police ruled it driver fatigue, but I heard there might have been something wrong with her brakes.” “And isn’t it weird? A woman who barely drives, speeding down a winding canyon road in the middle of the night… It was like she was running from something.” Every word was a hammer blow to my heart. Running. Elara was running from Meredith. She knew the pills were dangerous. She was trying to escape with my son! And so, Meredith arranged an “accident” to silence her forever. “Stella? Stella, are you okay?” Bella’s voice pulled me back. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the past.” I put down my cup and took a jewelry box from my purse, sliding it across the table. “It’s been a while. This is for you.” Bella’s eyes lit up as she opened it. Inside was a diamond necklace, easily worth a small fortune. “Oh, Stella, you shouldn’t have…” she demurred, but her hands were already lifting it from the box, eagerly fastening it around her neck. “As long as you like it,” I said, a cold smile touching my lips as I watched her preen. Bella, you’d better pray you had no part in this. Because if you did, I will make you choke on every last thing you’ve ever taken from me. I left the café and drove straight to Dr. Alistair’s clinic. Leo was in the children’s play area, quietly trying to stack blocks. His movements were slow, agonizingly so. He tried several times to place a single block, his hand-eye coordination failing him. A much younger child next to him had already built a towering structure. When that child accidentally knocked over Leo’s small pile, Leo just stared, his face a blank canvas. No tears, no anger, not a flicker of emotion. Dr. Alistair called me into his office. His face was grim as he handed me the lab report. “Stella, where did you get this?” “From a child,” I said, my heart sinking. “My God!” His voice was sharper than I’d ever heard it. “This is a psychotropic drug that was banned in Germany years ago! It was designed for controlling violent felons in high-security prisons!” “Long-term use causes severe damage to the central nervous system. It leads to delayed reflexes, cognitive decline, and memory loss!” “To put it bluntly, it’s designed to turn a normal person into a drooling imbecile.” “This child… how long has he been taking this?” My nails dug into my palms. “Possibly… for years.” Dr. Alistair shook his head, his face etched with sorrow and disgust. “This is monstrous. It’s not just abuse, Stella. This is attempted murder.” The silence in the room was absolute. The thin report in my hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Meredith. You absolute monster. You didn’t just steal my son. You tried to destroy him from the inside out. I walked out of the office. When Leo saw me, he stood up immediately, a hopeful light in his eyes. “Miss…?” I walked over, knelt, and pulled him into a crushing hug. This boy. The son of the woman I’d hated for a decade. The child I thought was the flesh and blood of my enemy. He was my stolen treasure, returned to me at last. He was my own son, abused and poisoned for ten long years. “Leo,” I choked out, my voice thick with tears. “I’m so sorry… Mommy is so sorry she’s late.” He went rigid in my arms, completely still. After a long moment, he slowly raised a small hand and gently patted my back. As if he were comforting a crying child. “Don’t cry, miss,” he said softly. “Mom said crying makes you less pretty.” And at that, the dam broke. The tears I had held back for a decade came pouring out. Elara, thank you. Thank you for protecting him for ten years. Now it’s my turn. And all those who hurt him, I will make every single one of them pay.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384843”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 To save me from an invader, my parents traded their lives to the System. After they died, our assets were frozen. My brother, now hating me, was diagnosed with leukemia. I worked as a movie corpse to pay for his treatment. After ten coffin scenes, I finally had enough for one chemo session. Then I saw my “dead” parents taking a family photo with Tiana, my lookalike. My mother suggested inviting me, but my healthy brother objected, “This was her punishment. We’ll tell her when she’s no longer a threat. Besides, she’s bad luck now.” Clutching the money, I cried laughing. My phone buzzed: “Get treatment or you’ll die, Willow!” … “I’m not getting treatment,” I whispered. I shut off my phone and sat on the curb, the world fading to black around me. The pain, sharp and splintering like broken bones, seized my body again. Fumbling, I pulled out the painkillers I always carried, swallowing more than a dozen pills until the agony receded to a dull throb. My phone chimed. I opened it to see that their family portrait was trending online. Though their faces were artfully blurred, I knew it was them. The parents and the brother who had once cherished me. The sense of familiarity was a phantom limb, an ache I couldn’t shake. The caption read: ‘Billionaire and family dote on their beloved princess for a stunning family portrait!’ I had endured the agony of bone cancer without a single tear, but those words… a wave of grief so profound washed over me, and I finally broke. My brother’s call came through. “Where’s the money you earned today? Get it to me now! I heard you were in a coffin ten times. I want every single cent!” “Okay,” I answered, my voice flat as I swallowed the bitterness. My coldness must have unsettled him. “Don’t try anything funny,” he warned. “Every dollar you earn for the rest of your life belongs to me.” After hanging up, I drifted to the bus stop in a daze. As I waited, a luxury car glided past. It was only there for a few seconds, but through the window, I saw it all. My mother, her face glowing with affection, fastened a necklace around Tiana’s neck. My father stood beside them, clapping and smiling. Tiana sat between them… a perfect little princess. Before she had taken over my life, I was the princess. I was the one they had adored. In fact, until today, I had believed it was still true. I thought my parents had sacrificed their lives for me, that my brother’s hatred was just a mask for his unbearable grief. But it was all a lie. The person they loved was Tiana. For her, they had constructed this elaborate, cruel theater to deceive me, to punish me, to ensure I would live forever drowning in guilt for their ‘deaths.’ The pain was coming more frequently now. I stumbled back to my dingy walk-up, collapsing to the floor in a tight, agonized ball. I fumbled with the pill bottle, but just as I was about to shake some out, the door flew open. My brother was there, and he slapped the bottle from my hand, sending pills scattering across the dirty floor. “What’s with the act? If you want to sleep, go to your room! Don’t lie here like a corpse. Or have you gotten too used to the role?” I wrapped my arms around myself, my body convulsing in silent, excruciating pain. He kicked me, his voice laced with rage. “Hey! If you’re going to play dead, don’t do it on my doorstep! Go back to your coffin! You’re such bad luck!” When I didn’t move, he gave me one last, vicious kick and slammed the door shut. A moment later, the neighbor, Mrs. Gable, came out to take out her trash. She saw me and gasped. “Oh my God! Honey, your nose is bleeding!” 2 I scrambled to scoop a handful of the scattered pills from the floor and shoved them into my mouth. The door creaked open again. My brother stood there, his eyes wide with shock at the sight of my bloodied face and the small pool of crimson on the floor. He spoke, his concern awkward and forced. “What the hell happened? Why’s your nose bleeding?” The pills began to work their magic, dulling the sharpest edges of the pain. I used the wall to haul myself to my feet and stumbled inside. “It’s nothing.” Mrs. Gable’s eyes were filled with worry. Before she left, she called into the apartment, “Young man, you should take your sister to a hospital! She doesn’t look well at all!” I slumped onto a stool, closing my eyes and waiting for the world to stop spinning. My brother crossed his arms, studying me with a detached curiosity. “Willow, have you been playing dead for too long? The more I look at you, the more you look like you’re actually dying.” He smirked. “You look more like a patient than I do.” “Now, where’s the money you earned today? Hand it over. I need to get my prescription.” I pulled the wad of cash from my pocket—my payment for ten descents into a wooden box—and placed it in his outstretched hand. He slapped it against his other palm and turned to leave, then paused at the door, his gaze cold. “Don’t go in tomorrow. This is enough for a while. You wouldn’t want to actually die playing the part.” A bitter smile twisted my lips. I couldn’t tell if it was a flicker of concern or just more of his biting sarcasm. I must have dozed off, slumped against the wall, because the ping of my phone jolted me awake. The extras’ group chat was blowing up. “OMG! Who is that CEO brother?! He rented a luxury yacht for his sister for a whole month!” “I know, right?! He’s the best! He was so happy today he was literally throwing money off the deck! I’d be a janitor on that yacht for a month just to pick up cash all day!” … I scrolled up and found the video that had sent them into a frenzy. I pressed play, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. My brother’s voice, unmistakable and cheerful, filled the air. “Take it! This money feels tainted anyway! It’s the corpse cash my dead-beat sister earned!” “If I wasn’t faking being sick, I wouldn’t even touch this stuff.” With a grand gesture, he flung my hard-earned money into the sea. Then he turned and placed a diamond tiara, worth millions, on Tiana’s head. My body shook violently. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. He had thrown away my blood and sweat. To pay for his ‘leukemia,’ I hadn’t spent a single dollar on myself. I stretched one meal from the set into three. My clothes were patched and washed so thin they were nearly transparent. The only money I had ever spent was for the hospital visit that had diagnosed my bone cancer. And even then, I hadn’t dared to start treatment. The money was for him. And now I knew. He thought my money was tainted. Tears streamed down my face, my shoulders shaking with silent, racking sobs. The emotional shock sent a fresh wave of agony through my bones. Overwhelmed, I pitched forward and the world went black. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. It was Mrs. Gable. She had been worried about me, and after wrestling with her thoughts, she had decided to check on me. She’d found me unconscious on the floor and rushed me here. Her voice was tight with concern. “Honey! How could you, at your age…” Just then, my brother burst through the door, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Willow! What the hell are you doing, causing trouble? You get a little sick and I have to come running? I’m busy! You’re messing up my plans!” 3 I stared at him for a moment, a bitter smile touching my lips. A complete stranger could see that I was unwell, but my own brother, who saw me every day, was blind to it. The image of him laughing as he crowned Tiana flashed in my mind, and a single tear traced a path to my temple. His genuine, adoring smile would never be for me again. Mrs. Gable opened her mouth to tell him the truth, but I gripped her hand and shook my head. She reluctantly fell silent. As she left, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Young man, stop being so hard on your sister. Just be good to her.” Ethan ignored her completely, striding over to my bed. He glared at me, then sat down with a sigh, as if forced. “Willow, I have something to tell you. Try not to get too excited.” I kept my head turned away, my eyes closed. He didn’t care. He continued, “Mom and Dad aren’t dead. They’re coming back tomorrow.” His words hit me like a physical blow. I shot up in bed, my mouth opening and closing, unable to form a word. They were coming back? They hadn’t abandoned me. Of course. I was their precious daughter, the one they had cherished. How could they discard me for someone like Tiana? A genuine laugh escaped my lips, a terrifying sound coming from my pale, gaunt face. Ethan recoiled in disgust and left. Even with the searing pain knitting through my bones, my heart felt light. I ripped the IV from my hand and ran home. The reflection in the mirror startled me. My complexion was a ghostly, ashen white. My parents would be so worried if they saw me like this. I dug out a jar from under my bed, filled with years of saved-up coins. Pennies, dimes, nickels. I clutched a handful and ran to a dollar store, buying the cheapest, brightest red lipstick I could find. The next morning, I was up at dawn. I applied a thick layer of lipstick and dabbed some on my cheeks for color. I checked myself in the mirror again and again, satisfied that the ghastly pallor was hidden. Then, I sat by the door to wait. The hands on the clock spun, and waves of pain washed over me, each one a trial. Finally, as dusk settled, they arrived. My mother was dressed in a stunning gown, my father in a tailored suit. I looked down at my own tattered clothes and felt a pang of insecurity. As tears welled in my eyes, I stepped forward and whispered, “Mom…” She wrinkled her nose and took several steps back, her eyes filled with undisguised distaste. “Willow, it’s natural for a girl to want to look beautiful, but you don’t have to try so hard. It’s just laughable.” I forced down the lump in my throat, telling myself, It’s just because we’ve been apart. In a few days, it will be like it was before. My mother continued, “We came to take you home today.” “But, I have one condition.” I nodded eagerly. To spend my last days with them, I would agree to anything. She gestured toward the door. “Tiana, sweetheart, you can come in.” A moment later, Ethan walked in, leading Tiana by the hand. I was confused, until my mother spoke again. “It must be strange for you, seeing Tiana, who looks exactly like you.” “There can only be one face like this in the world.” “So…” She placed a small, sharp fruit knife on the table between us. “Ruin your face.” For a second, the world stopped. I stumbled back, my mind blank. What… What did she mean? My father’s cold voice pulled me from my stupor. 4 “Willow? Did you hear your mother’s condition?” “Just do as she says. Even with a ruined face, you’ll still be our precious daughter.” So, that was it. This was the reason they had come. Ethan picked up the knife and pressed it into my hand. “Don’t hesitate. You love Mom and Dad, don’t you? You want to live with them again, right?” He looked away, mumbling, “If you do this, I’ll… I’ll admit you’re still my sister.” Ha. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it clearly. I looked at them—the family who had once adored me, now cornering me like a pack of wolves for a stranger. A wild, unhinged laugh tore from my throat. The cheap lipstick smeared with my tears, running down my cheeks in grotesque, crimson rivers, mocking my foolish hope. I turned away, wiping my eyes. “You don’t have to do this. I’m going to die soon. Then, there will only be one Tiana.” Their expressions instantly soured. Ethan was the first to explode. “Willow! What’s this about dying? Is this your excuse to get out of it? You think playing a corpse makes you an expert on death?” Even my quiet father couldn’t hold back his anger. “If you don’t want to do it, just say so! Stop playing these manipulative games! You’re a young woman. What kind of person talks about dying all the time?” “Fine! Let there be two identical faces in the world. We’ll just disown you!” At his words, Tiana burst into tears, as if she were the one being wronged. “It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have taken over her body. Daddy, Mommy, please don’t be angry!” “Let me be the one to do it! Let me ruin my face so there’s only one Willow!” She snatched the knife and raised it to her own cheek. But before the blade could touch her skin, Ethan lunged, grabbing the knife. Blood dripped from his hand. He threw the knife at my feet. “Tiana! You’re not the one in the wrong!” My mother rushed to Tiana’s side, fussing over her. “Oh, my darling girl, why would you do that? What if you had really hurt yourself?” I stood outside their circle of four, the villain in their story. Ethan glared at me, then suddenly lunged forward, snatching the fruit knife from the floor. He tackled me, and a searing line of fire ripped across my cheek. The fall sent a jolt of agony through my already ravaged body. The sharp, repeated agony of the knife on my face, combined with the deep, grinding pain in my bones, was more than I could bear. But I didn’t struggle. I didn’t reach for my pills. My mother stood by, directing him. “Ethan, a few more times. Make sure it’s completely unrecognizable. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Willow at home. After this, she won’t have to suffer another day.” He only stopped when my face was a bloody, unrecognizable mess. They all waited for me to get up, but I could only lie there, convulsing. They stared, their brows furrowed in confusion. Ethan finally nudged me with his foot. “Hey! Get up. You were always talking about Mom’s cooking. They brought ingredients to make you a meal at home.” Suddenly, there was a frantic banging on the door. After a few loud thumps, the door burst open, and Mrs. Gable rushed in. She saw me lying in a pool of my own blood, my body emaciated, and she let out a horrified shriek, her eyes wide with terror. “My God! What have you done?! The poor girl has bone cancer! She only has days to live! Couldn’t you just let her die in peace?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384842”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was on a street corner, happily devouring a kebab, when I saw exactly what I expected to see on Finn’s Instagram feed: a picture of my girlfriend, Ava. The caption read: Your cooking is the best medicine. After being stood up by Ava this many times, my heart was a placid lake. I was even thinking I should just break up with her already, to get out of their way. 1. I was chewing on a tough piece of grilled beef when my phone screen lit up with Ava’s name. It was just slowing down my kebab consumption. I was about to ignore it, but the side of my hand brushed against the screen and accidentally answered the call. Guess I had to deal with this. “Yeah?” I said. Ava’s voice was breezy, completely normal. “Hey, something came up at the office. Sorry I had to bail on you again. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I bit off the last piece of beef and picked up a grilled mushroom skewer. “Right. Got it. No worries.” A hint of suspicion crept into her voice. “Where are you?” I glanced around at the bustling, noisy street. The Empyrean, our original destination, was definitely not this loud. “Oh, I was craving some street food, so… yeah.” The grilled mushrooms were perfect. Her voice sharpened with annoyance. “You just decided that on your own? I pulled strings to get that reservation! Not showing up makes me look bad. What am I supposed to tell my friend?” “Why not just tell her the real reason you couldn’t make it? I’m sure she’d understand.” “The real reason? What are you implying now?” I sighed. “Is Finn feeling any better?” Her voice dropped, laced with a guilt she couldn’t quite hide. “How did you know… No, that’s not it. Let me explain.” “Don’t bother. I get it,” I said, cutting her off. “My kebab’s getting cold. Talk later.” I hung up. “Hey man, your grilled eggplant!” the vendor called out. “Awesome, thanks!” Ah, garlic-roasted eggplant. My absolute favorite. As for why Ava ditched me, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. On my way to The Empyrean, I’d seen Finn’s Instagram post: Dinner time, but I feel awful. No appetite. Don’t want to eat a thing. That was my cue. I told the driver to turn around and head for the food truck court. It was practically a conditioned response by now. Ever since Finn entered the picture, he’d always been her number one priority. Finn was a fresh-faced intern at Ava’s company, full of youthful energy. Ava’s opinion of him had morphed from, “He’s so incompetent, I’m tempted to fire him every day,” to “He’s actually trying really hard, and he hasn’t had it easy.” I knew then that she was falling for him. Soon enough, any little problem Finn had in his life, Ava would be the first to rush in and solve it. I watched it happen, feeling completely powerless, completely helpless. It wasn’t like I didn’t fight it. We argued, we yelled. But Ava’s excuses were always so infuriatingly dismissive. “He’s just a kid, fresh out of college, with no friends in this city. I’m just looking out for an employee.” “Anniversaries aren’t a big deal. We can celebrate later. But his stomach bug is acting up now. You’ve had that pain before, you know how bad it feels, right?” “You just sprained your ankle. He has a fever. You can see which one is more serious, can’t you?” So, I became immune. Numb. Getting stood up for a fancy dinner? Compared to everything else, it was nothing. Barely a blip on the radar. 2. The next morning, I walked into the living room and was shocked to see Ava there. This was a rare occurrence. Usually, after a night like last night, she’d just head to work straight from Finn’s apartment. She glanced at me, her expression casual. “Got back too late yesterday, so I just crashed in the guest room.” “Hm,” I grunted. She paused, then added, “You’re up a little late. Probably don’t have time to make breakfast, huh?” “I’ll grab something on the way,” I said flatly. She offered a small smile. “That’s a shame. I was kind of missing your porridge and omelets.” My hand was on the bathroom doorknob. “What’s there to miss? I’m sure you’ve already had breakfast.” I shut the door behind me. I used to wake up early every single day to cook for her. But ever since Finn invaded our lives, she’d gradually stopped eating the breakfast I made. After changing, I was heading for the door when I saw her standing there, her face a mask of complicated emotions. “I know I’ve been busy lately,” she said, “and haven’t been home for breakfast. I’ll try to be home more often from now on.” I managed a thin smile. “Don’t bother. I’d rather get some more sleep.” That extra thirty minutes of sleep today had me feeling surprisingly refreshed. She stared at me, looking like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. As I reached for the front door, she lunged forward and grabbed my hand. I looked at her. Her lips tightened. “I only saw Finn’s post later last night. He didn’t mean anything by it. And nothing happened between us. Don’t get the wrong idea.” Even knowing he’d posted it, she was still defending him. In the past, any time I expressed the slightest dissatisfaction with Finn’s behavior, she’d frown and call me “petty” and “small-minded.” If I pushed back, she’d get defensive, accusing me of having a “dirty mind,” insisting their friendship was purely platonic. I just smiled. I was used to her bias. Seeing my lack of reaction, she pressed on. “I know you’re upset that I stood you up. But Finn got sick so suddenly. You know he’s all alone here, no family, no one to look after him…” I pulled my hand free. “I know,” I said calmly. “I get it. Can I go now? I’m going to be late for work.” She blocked the door again, her tone growing frustrated. “I told you, nothing happened between us! Why are you still sulking?” “And I told you I believe you,” I shot back. “So why are you still blocking my way?” “You…” “Seriously, I’m going to be late.” Ignoring her stunned expression, I walked out. 3. When I got home that evening, I went straight to the bedroom to grab a change of clothes for a shower. As I passed the study, I heard Ava’s voice drift out. “Just send it to me. I’ll take care of it.” “It’s no problem, really. It’s just a little bit of work, I can knock it out in no time.” “Haha, you got it. You owe me a big dinner for this.” I knew what this was. Ava, once again, doing Finn’s work for him. I remembered asking her once to help me grade some of my students’ papers. After two days of waiting, I gently reminded her. She snapped. “It’s the weekend! Can’t I just relax and have some fun? Do your own work. Helping you is a favor, not my duty.” I ended up pulling an all-nighter to finish them myself. But ever since Finn joined her company, a man who seemed to know nothing, she had patiently lowered herself to handle his tasks for him. When I confronted her about it, she said, “He’s new to the professional world. It’s normal for him to be clueless about a lot of things. Weren’t you the same when you first started teaching?” The memory of the student papers flashed in my mind, and we had a massive fight. She ended it by saying coldly, “At least when I help Finn, it benefits my company. What do I get out of helping you?” We gave each other the silent treatment for a long time after that. But I was still an idiot back then, so I forgave her after a half-hearted apology. After my shower, I settled into bed with my tablet to watch a show. A little while later, the bedroom door creaked open. I looked up. Ava was standing there with a weary smile. She climbed into bed and wrapped her arms around me. “You’re home! You didn’t even say hi, just started playing on your own? Your wife just finished a long day of work, and she’s starving.” “Ask Finn to make you something.” Her arms stiffened, and her face went dark. “Why do you have to bring Finn into everything? Can you stop having such a dirty mind for one second?” I put my tablet down. “I’m not. You just spent all that time doing his work for him. It’s only fair he cook you a meal in return, right? To pay you back.” She froze. “You heard that?” Then her brow furrowed. “I told you, Finn’s new. It’s normal for me to help him out. It’s for the good of the company! When the company does well, we both benefit. The money I earn helps us build a better life together! “Why can’t you just understand that?” So she did remember that I’d invested my inheritance from my parents into her company. Funny, because when I demanded she fire Finn, her response had been, “Who’s the boss here, me or you?” “I guess I don’t understand,” I said peacefully. “All I know is that if a teacher at my school was still a complete mess at their job after six months, they’d have been fired long ago.” Ava sighed, a long, dramatic exhalation. “Fine, fine. I’ll push him to get up to speed. I’ll try not to help him anymore. And if you have any student work in the future, you can give it to me. I’ll handle it for you. Is that good enough? “Anyway, I’m hungry now. Hubby, go make me a late-night snack? We haven’t eaten together in so long.” She was trying to sweet-talk me, clearly remembering how well it worked in the past. “No, thanks. You were right before—everyone should do their own work. Besides, I already ate before I came home. Just order some takeout.” Her face instantly turned to ice. She was silent for two long seconds, then she shot off the bed, turned, and slammed the door behind her. 4. After that night, Ava and I entered another cold war. But unlike previous times, when I’d be a nervous wreck, unable to focus on anything, this time I was… happy. Utterly, blissfully happy on my own. And I certainly wasn’t about to swallow my pride and beg for her forgiveness the next day like I used to. A week later, around nine at night, her best friend Sarah called me. Her message was brief. “Eddy, get down to the bar near the office. Ava’s—” I hung up before she could finish. Her little clique of work friends never liked me. They thought a high school teacher like me wasn’t good enough for a “young, successful, independent woman” like Ava. On the rare occasions Ava dragged me to a company party, they’d mostly ignore me or make thinly veiled digs. I wasn’t even allowed to look annoyed, or Ava would accuse me of being a bad sport. Thinking back on it, I was pathetic. But I have to admit, I brought it on myself. Sarah called again. I declined and blocked her number. Then I started calling real estate agents to schedule apartment viewings. I’d spent the week looking for a new place. The current apartment wasn’t just Ava’s; it was close to her office and a long commute from my school. Waking up early every morning left me perpetually exhausted, walking around like a zombie. My colleagues had even suggested I see a doctor because I looked so terrible every day. With a schedule like that, of course I looked terrible. 5. After I blocked Sarah, her friends started calling me, one after another. I’d just finished a call with an agent when another one came through. I was about to block this number too, but I saw the caller ID: “Maya.” I decided to answer. Maya was the only one in that group who was ever genuinely nice to me. She never joined in on the passive-aggressive comments. It was only fair to return the courtesy. “Eddy?” she asked tentatively. “Ava’s really drunk. She keeps calling your name. Could you please just come get her?” “Ask Finn to pick her up. I’m busy,” I said, eyeing the moving boxes I needed to pack. This was going to be a project. “But… it’s Saturday… and honestly, there’s nothing going on between her and Finn…” Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the phone, followed by Ava’s furious roar. “Hang up! Why are you calling him?! What is there to explain to him?!” I hung up first, not wanting to put Maya in a more awkward position. After I finished packing, I collapsed on the sofa and idly scrolled through my social media. As expected, Finn hadn’t disappointed me. He’d posted something new. Feel so bad for someone. So drunk her own boyfriend won’t even pick her up. Guess it’s up to a lowly intern like me to save the day. The photo was of Ava, sleeping. I felt nothing. I put my phone down, then had a sudden urge to go back and like the post. But packing had worn me out. By the time I picked up my phone again a few minutes later, the post was gone. Just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the apartment. The door swung open. Standing there, the woman who was supposed to be passed out drunk, was Ava. Her face was a thundercloud.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384841”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was on vacation with my mother-in-law, Katherine. After checking into the hotel, we went for a swim in the pool. That’s when a woman, dressed to the nines even in her poolside attire, pinched her nose in disgust. “This is a luxury resort. What is with the class of people they’re letting in these days? I bet they just snuck in to use the pool.” Her voice dripped with contempt. “Sharing the same water with you people… I’m afraid I’ll catch something.” The mood was instantly ruined. “This is a public pool for hotel guests,” I said, my voice cold. “If you can’t handle that, build one in your own backyard.” Her eyebrows shot up. “How dare you speak to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am? My husband owns this hotel. The penthouse suite is mine, year-round.” She jabbed a finger at us. “I’m ordering you to get out. Now. The stench of your cheapness is fouling the water. It’s disgusting.” Katherine and I exchanged a look. I saw the same icy fury in her eyes that I felt in my own heart. This hotel was one of dozens owned by Terence McMurray. Since when was he someone else’s husband? … We’d wanted to keep a low profile on this trip, checking in without revealing our connection to the McMurray hotel empire. So much for that. Our relaxing getaway had just turned sour. Katherine, a titan of industry her entire life, wasn’t about to be intimidated. She scoffed. “And who are you to order us around? You’re the one who should get out. It’s the stench of your bad manners that’s truly disgusting.” Ignoring the woman, who was now sputtering with rage, Katherine turned to me. “Amelia, let’s just swim. Pay her no mind. When we get back, you and I will have a little chat with Terence and find out what in the world is going on.” Being ignored sent the woman into a full-blown tantrum. A vicious smile twisted her lips. “Fine. If you love the water so much, you can stay in it all day.” She made a call. A moment later, a young, athletic-looking man appeared, fawning over her. “Rose, what can I do for you? Ready for that swimming lesson?” She pointed at us with a perfectly manicured nail. “Marco, teach these two ignorant women a lesson for me.” Marco understood immediately. “You got it, Rose,” he said with a greasy smile. “I’m a swim coach. I know all the tricks for handling people in the water.” He dove in. Before we could react, he grabbed Katherine by the head and shoved her under the water with all his strength. She was no match for him; she started choking instantly, thrashing wildly. “Stop it!” I lunged at him, but he was agile, twisting away and pushing my head under, forcing a lungful of chlorinated water down my throat. I came up sputtering and, in a blind panic, I sank my teeth into his arm. Hard. He yelled and let go. I immediately pulled Katherine to the side of the pool. Her eyes had rolled back, and she was coughing so hard it sounded like she was trying to hack up a lung. She was a woman who had commanded boardrooms and built an empire that spanned the country. She was treated with reverence everywhere she went. When had she ever been subjected to such humiliation? Her voice, when she could finally speak, was steel. “Do you realize you could have killed me? This is criminal!” she raged at Rose. “I’ll have my legal team sue you into oblivion!” Rose just laughed. “So what if you died? My husband owns hundreds of hotels. He makes enough in one day to buy your pathetic lives a thousand times over. You should have found out who you were messing with before you started something. Lawyers? Please. You can’t even afford the filing fee.” This hotel was just one of many Katherine had entrusted to Terence’s management. This woman’s possessive, arrogant attitude made no sense. Did Terence have a second wife? I rubbed Katherine’s back, trying to soothe her. “Is your husband’s name Terence McMurray?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. Rose preened. “That’s right. At least you’re not completely clueless. Now, if you kneel and apologize, then scrub this entire pool clean, I might consider letting you go. Otherwise, when he gets here, you’re in for a world of hurt.” Ice flooded my veins. Terence. The man who had sworn his undying love and loyalty to me… was he really cheating? Then, my eyes locked on the tattoo just above her collarbone. A single, perfect rose. I had seen the exact same tattoo on his chiseled abs. He’d told me he got it because I loved roses. I was so touched at the time. What a fool I’d been. It was a couples’ tattoo. If we hadn’t run into her today, I never would have known he was keeping a mistress in a gilded cage. The angrier I got, the calmer I became. “As far as I know,” I said, my words sharp enough to cut glass, “Terence McMurray’s wife is named Amelia. And she looks nothing like you. You’re the mistress, yet you have the audacity to be this arrogant? You have no shame.” I raised my chin. “Go on. Call him. I’d love to see how he plans to make us hurt.” The word “mistress” struck a nerve. Her face contorted with hatred. “In love, there’s no first or second. The one who isn’t loved is the other woman,” she spat. “My husband is on his way over right now. You just wait.” She dialed a number, and her voice instantly transformed into a sickly sweet, baby-talk purr. “Jules, darling, when will you be here? There are these two old hags bullying me at the pool. I’m so scared. You have to come and stick up for me.” She giggled. “And you should reserve the pool just for me from now on. I’ve learned a few new tricks in the water… and I can’t wait for you to enjoy them.” Hanging up, her face was a mask of smug triumph. “He’ll be here in thirty minutes. You’re dead. He has a million ways to deal with people like you.” The thought of Terence, acting the part of the doting husband with me while carrying on with this woman, made me want to throw up. Katherine saw the look on my face and understood everything. She gritted her teeth. “Terence. That bastard. He’s just like his father.” Her voice was laced with a lifetime of pain. “Everything I gave him, I can take away.” Katherine despised infidelity. She had divorced Terence’s father years ago after he’d had an affair with a young model, and she’d raised Terence on her own while building her business empire. To think her own son would betray her in the same way… it was a knife to the heart. Katherine Kingsley was the true power behind the McMurray hotel chain. And I, Amelia Davenport, came from a family whose standing was every bit the equal of his. Terence McMurray, I thought. Let’s see you explain this. Just then, I saw Katherine’s face go pale. I quickly tried to help her out of the pool to get changed. But Rose waved a hand. Marco leaped onto the pool deck and, as Katherine was climbing the ladder, he kicked her squarely in the back. She tumbled back into the water. I scrambled to get to her. On the deck, Rose was laughing hysterically. “You look like a pair of drowning ducks! You love the water so much? Then stay in it!” She turned to Marco. “Don’t let them out until my husband gets here.” “You got it, Rose,” the lapdog said. “Just put in a good word for me with Mr. McMurray when he arrives.” Every time we tried to climb out, he would kick us back in. Our strength was fading fast. Katherine was clutching her chest, struggling to breathe. I held her up, trying to keep her head above water. “Are you trying to kill her?” I screamed at the deck. “My mother has a heart condition! Let us out, now! You will regret this when Terence gets here!” Marco hesitated, a flicker of fear in his eyes. But Rose just scoffed. “Nice try. Old women like you are full of tricks. Faking a heart attack? You were swimming just fine a minute ago.” She turned to Marco with a wicked grin. “Go turn off the pool heater. Let’s see how long she can keep up the act.” “I’m telling you, if she dies, the police will be here, and you’ll both go to jail!” I yelled, my voice raw with fury. Rose simply picked up a glass of red wine and took a leisurely sip. “Stop the drama. If you want out, beg me. Weren’t you so tough a minute ago? What, you’re scared now that my husband is coming?” Katherine did have a heart condition. The stress, the shock, and the near-drowning had taken their toll. She was in real trouble. I bit my lip. I had to get her out of there. I would swallow my pride, do anything to keep her safe. But as I was about to speak, Katherine gripped my arm. Her voice was a ragged whisper. “I have never bowed my head to anyone in my life. And I will not start by begging a classless creature like her. Amelia, I can hold on. When Terence gets here… I will never forgive him. Don’t you worry. A man ruined my life once. I will always be on your side.” Seeing our defiance, a cruel glint appeared in Rose’s eyes. “Marco, go to the kitchen. Bring back two buckets of ice. Let’s cool them down a little more.” The ice cubes plunged into the water, and the temperature dropped immediately. I was already shivering uncontrollably. Katherine’s lips were turning blue, and her eyes were becoming unfocused. “Katherine?” I patted her cheek, but she barely responded. I gathered what little strength I had and tried to swim for the edge, but each time, Marco used a pool skimmer to push us back. I was frantic, my eyes burning with tears. “My mother is dying!” I screamed. “Let her out! If she dies, this hotel is liable! Terence will never let you get away with this!” Marco, as a swim coach, could see Katherine’s condition was deteriorating rapidly. “Rose,” he said nervously, “that older one… she doesn’t look so good. Maybe we should let her out. I mean, if she dies in the pool, it’s not like you’ll want to use it anymore. And I don’t think Mr. McMurray would be happy if you actually killed someone. I could lose my job.” Rose thought for a moment, then sneered. “Worried about your job, are you? I’m not trying to kill anyone. But some people are just stubborn. I told them, if they beg, I’ll consider it. Clearly, they’re not at death’s door yet. Let’s just see how long they can last.” Marco puffed out his chest, emboldened by her. “Let me make this clear,” he said, looking down at me. “Rose is Mr. McMurray’s woman. This whole hotel is basically hers. Everything revolves around her. You shouldn’t have even been allowed in here today. If you want to live, you’ll apologize and beg her. If not, nobody can help you.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Looking at Katherine, so fragile and fading, I knew I had no choice. Pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford. “Please,” I choked out, the words tearing at my throat. “I’m begging you. Let my mother go. She has a heart condition. She’s going to die.” A triumphant smirk spread across Rose’s face. “Didn’t you call me a shameless mistress earlier?” she purred. “I want you to say it again, but differently. I want you to say, ‘That bitch Amelia is the mistress, and you are Terence McMurray’s wife.’” She had no idea that I was Amelia, but in a stroke of cruel irony, she had found the one thing that would humiliate me the most. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and forced the words out, one by one. “That bitch Amelia… is the mistress. You are Terence McMurray’s wife.” “There. Are you satisfied? Now let my mother out!” Rose laughed, a delighted, wicked sound. “I said I’d consider it. And I have. I’ve decided… no.” Pure rage surged through me. I wanted to tear her apart with my bare hands. I had one card left to play. “You’ve gone too far! She is Terence McMurray’s mother! If anything happens to her, he will destroy you!” But Rose just howled with laughter. “You pathetic liars will say anything! A minute ago, you called her ‘Mom.’ Now she’s Terence’s mother? You ruined my swim today, and I’m going to make sure you learn your lesson. Next time, watch who you cross!” In my arms, Katherine began to tremble violently. Her breathing grew shallow. It was a full-blown cardiac episode. If she didn’t get her nitroglycerin pills, she would die. “Help!” I screamed, my voice cracking with desperation. “Somebody help us! It’s an emergency!” But the pool area was deserted. Even Marco was starting to panic. “Rose, what if…” “It’s fine,” she cut him off, utterly unconcerned. “Old ladies like her are tougher than they look. She’s faking it. My husband will be here any minute. We’ll let them out then. A few more minutes won’t make a difference.” A few minutes was all it would take to lose her. Despair washed over me, cold and absolute. Suddenly, the hotel manager came running over. “Help!” I shrieked. “My mother is having a heart attack! Get her out of the water! Call an ambulance!” The manager had met Katherine once, years ago, but he didn’t recognize the pale, shivering woman in my arms. He had heard there was trouble and had come to kiss up to Rose. Now, seeing the reality of the situation, he quickly weighed his options: piss off Rose, or have someone die on his watch and lose his job. He chose his job. “Miss Rose,” he said with a practiced smile, “perhaps it would be best to let them out. If something… unfortunate… were to happen, this pool would be unusable for you in the future.” Rose glanced at him, then shrugged haughtily. “Fine. For your sake, I’ll let them out.” The manager and Marco quickly pulled us from the water. Katherine was limp, unresponsive. I didn’t even stop to catch my breath. I scrambled to the locker room, grabbed my bag, and fumbled with the vial of emergency heart pills. Just as I was about to put one under her tongue, a designer heel flashed out and kicked the vial from my hand. The pills scattered across the wet tiles and into the pool. Rose looked at my face, twisted in anguish, and laughed. “Alright, the show’s over. We let you out. Now get lost, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of my way from now on. I’m feeling generous today.” Something inside me snapped. I lunged forward and slapped her across the face with all my might. “If anything happens to my mother,” I seethed, my eyes blazing, “I will make you and Terence McMurray pay!” She shrieked, stunned that I would dare touch her. “You psycho! I should have just let you both drown!” I tried to go for her again, but Marco and the manager grabbed my arms. Rose, freed, slapped me again and again, more than a dozen times, until my face was numb and burning. The stinging pain cleared my head. Katherine was running out of time. I wrenched myself free, found my phone, and dialed Terence’s number. “Terence, it’s Mom. She’s having a heart attack. We’re at the pool at the resort in the Hamptons. Get the nearest medical team here now!” My voice was shaking. “If you’re late, she’s not going to make it!” His reply was impatient. “Your mother has a heart condition. Doesn’t she know how to take care of herself? I’m in a meeting. Call an ambulance yourself.” He hung up. I trembled with a rage so profound it left me breathless. My mother? Did he really not know whose mother had the heart condition? Just then, Rose’s face lit up. “Terence, darling! You’re finally here!” She flew into the arms of the man who had just walked in, melting against him. “Jules, what took you so long? Those two women were horrible to me.” She tilted her head, showing him the red mark on her cheek. “Look, that bitch even hit me. You have to make them pay. And then you have to stay and comfort me for a few days.” The man stroked her cheek, his voice hardening with anger. “Who had the audacity to lay a hand on you? Don’t worry. I’ll make them regret it.” He smiled down at her. “And of course I’ll stay. I cleared my whole week for you.” This was the man who had just hung up on me. The man who, just last night, had been complaining about how much he would miss me during his week-long “business trip.” It was all a lie. The vows, the promises… they were worth less than dirt. Rose wrapped her arm around Terence’s waist and led him toward me like a trophy. “That’s the one who hit me,” she said, pointing. “And that’s her mother on the ground. Teach them a lesson they’ll never forget.” I slowly raised my head and stared directly into his eyes. “Terence,” I said, my voice like ice. “How, exactly, are you going to teach me a lesson?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384840”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel