Author: Momo Chan

The A-list actor killed himself, and then the world found out he’d been in love with me for years. The hashtag #UnrequitedLoveGoesViral exploded online. Swarms of paparazzi camped outside my apartment, demanding I give him a response, even in death. When I refused to comment, an obsessive fan plunged a knife into my heart. I died in the dead of winter, taking my three-month-old unborn child with me. When my husband returned from his trip abroad, all that was left for him to see was my cold, lifeless body. 1 The day I died, the first snow of the season began to fall over the city. The little girl I had just saved from a mugging pulled a fruit knife from her bag. Before I could even react, she drove it straight into my heart. She was a horrifying mix of tears and laughter. “He’s dead! What gives you the right to be alive?” “It’s all your fault! He killed himself because of his depression, and it’s all because of you! Why wouldn’t you look at him? Why couldn’t you just love him?!” She ripped the knife out. My blood mingled with her tears until you couldn’t tell them apart. “You bitch! You took the best man in the world away from us!” Her sobbing stopped abruptly. With a desolate cry, she raised the knife and slashed again. This time, at my neck. 2 My spirit hovered in the air. The killer sat on my corpse, her eyes gleaming with a sick, triumphant joy. She pulled out her phone and opened up her social media app. A group chat was exploding with messages, scrolling by in a blur. I drifted closer, my spectral eyes catching the keywords. [MiaMustDie] [ThatBitchMia] [KillMia]… Mia. That’s me. In their minds, I was the one who drove their idol, Mike Vance, to suicide. There were viler words, too, carefully crafted to bypass the app’s filters, spat out by people hiding behind their screens. The venom bled through the display, so toxic it felt like it could suffocate even a dead woman like me. The girl’s hands were trembling as she typed. Not with guilt, not with fear, but with pure, ecstatic excitement. [SISTERS!!!! I GOT REVENGE FOR MIKE!!! I sent the bitch who killed him straight to hell! I think she was pregnant, too. She was clutching her stomach, begging me to spare her. What an actress. No wonder Mike was fooled by her.] The moment she hit send, the thousand-member group chat fell silent. She frowned, checking her signal. “Did my internet cut out? Why isn’t anyone saying anything?” she muttered. A few seconds crawled by before the first hesitant reply appeared. [What do you mean, you got revenge?] A smug grin spread across the girl’s face. She started a voice memo while snapping a photo, centering the frame on my down jacket, which she’d torn open to reveal my slightly rounded belly. “I killed her. See? Her stomach’s all swollen. Definitely pregnant. What a slut. God knows who knocked her up.” The chat went dead silent. But she didn’t seem to notice, rambling on, recounting every gruesome detail of my murder. When she finally finished her story, a user with Mike Vance’s face as their profile picture replied. [Rose, turn yourself in.] 3 Rose didn’t turn herself in. A passerby called the police. By the time the yellow tape cordoned off my body, Rose was long gone. She’d taken my ID, but she forgot one crucial thing. Thanks to Mike Vance, I’d already been doxxed a hundred times over. Traces of my personal information were scattered across the internet like snowflakes in the sky. You didn’t have to look up to find them. The hashtag #MiaAndMikeVance started trending again, climbing even higher than #MikeVanceFanStabsWomanOnStreet. An actor who takes his own life at the peak of his career is bound to be romanticized, turned into the nation’s tragic sweetheart, an icon of impossible love. [I don’t care, a double death is a HE (Happy Ending)!] [Even heaven couldn’t stand his decade of silent love. The universe itself married them off! So sweet, I’m crying.] [Mike must be so happy, watching this from above.] His fans danced on my grave. At the police station, a female officer scrolled through the unhinged comments with a weary sigh. She gently closed my eyelids, then turned to the junior officer next to her. “Any luck contacting her husband?” The young officer shook her head. “His phone’s going straight to voicemail. I sent him a text.” “Other than him, Ms. Reed is an orphan. She has no other family.” I wasn’t surprised. My soul managed a faint smile. I couldn’t see a mirror, so I had no idea if the expression was beautiful or grotesque. “Her husband’s unreachable? It’s been five hours since it happened. Five hours and still no word?” The flight from New York to Crestview City crosses the international date line; it’s a thirteen-hour journey. And my husband, Liam Hayes, has a habit of catching up on sleep during flights. When he’s resting, he’s not to be disturbed. It was normal that they couldn’t reach him. Besides… We had a child by accident. The Hayes family has a sterling reputation; they would never allow their bloodline to be abandoned. He married me out of duty. There wasn’t much love between us. Even if he got the news, he’d probably just send his assistant to handle it. I floated over to the police officer who was still tirelessly dialing his number. “You can stop calling,” I whispered to her. “I don’t have any family.” But the living and the dead are separated by an uncrossable river. She couldn’t hear me. She just kept dialing, over and over, for my sake. Her eyes welled up with frustration. “Why won’t he pick up, why won’t he pick up…” She was a complete stranger, yet she was grieving for me. There are still good people in the world, after all. I drifted to the station window and watched the day bleed into dusk. The setting sun cast a golden glow on every person walking below. Children bounced in the park, and elderly couples, their hair white as snow, held onto each other as they navigated the city streets. Only one car broke the rules of the road, speeding so fast I figured the driver was trying to lose his license in a single go. Thank God he didn’t hit anyone. The car screeched to a halt in front of the station. I stretched my spectral neck, curious to see what kind of reckless person was behind the wheel. And then I saw a figure step out—a man both familiar and foreign. The sunset stretched his shadow long and thin, but its warm light couldn’t melt the icy chill clinging to his shoulders. He strode towards the entrance, covering the distance in what felt like a single, impossible leap. Was the path from the curb to the lobby always that short? I floated slowly after him. Just in time to hear his first words. “I’m here to take my wife home.” 4 Liam knelt beside me, his head bowed in silence. He was a man who wore his emotions like a mask; I never really knew him well enough to see what was behind it. I turned my head away and looked at my own body instead. A dead woman’s pallor, a zombie’s vacant face. The fruit knife had been removed from my neck, leaving a gruesome, gaping wound. It’s truly hideous, seeing yourself from a third-person view. “Mia.” Liam’s voice was a whisper. His large, warm hand gently cupped my cold, pale cheek. He repeated the words he’d said when he first walked in, but this time, he was speaking to me. “I’m here to take you home.” Such a simple sentence. How could it steal the air from your lungs? The kind-hearted female officer’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. They spilled over, splashing onto the linoleum floor. She fumbled for a tissue to wipe them away. I instinctively reached for the corner of my own eye. My fingertips met nothing but dry, empty air. Of course. The dead can’t cry. Liam lifted me into his arms and carried me toward the door. I turned back and tried to comfort the officer. “Don’t cry, miss. He’s taking me home. This is a good thing.” Then I laughed at my own foolishness. She couldn’t hear me. No one could. A wandering soul, forever looking at the living from across the river of death. The river is too wide, the current too strong. No one can ever reach the other side. 5 Liam placed me in the back of the car. The suffocating atmosphere from the station intensified in the enclosed space. He was a man of few words, and this moment was no exception. As the last light of dusk faded, night began to cloak the earth. The city’s neon lights blinked on, one by one. He didn’t let me go. In the spacious back seat, it was just one man and one corpse, an arrangement so empty it felt absurdly tragic. I floated in front of him. The comforting words I could so easily offer a stranger were lodged in my throat. I couldn’t say a thing to him. The car drove on, through the bustling downtown, past the rivers of people. We arrived at a brightly lit villa, where he laid me down on the sofa. The living room television turned on automatically. He sat down beside me. As if I were still alive. On the screen, the guests on a comedy show were laughing. In the living room, the audience of two watched with blank faces. Suddenly, Liam complained, “Why do you like watching this stuff? It’s so boring.” “It is not boring! It’s hilarious,” I retorted. “Wait, how did you know I liked this show?” “Mia, why aren’t you answering me?” “I am answering you.” “Are you ignoring me?” “I’m not! I’m talking to you!” “If you don’t say something, I’m changing the channel.” “Don’t you dare! How can you blame me when you’re the one who can’t hear me? That’s so rude!” Liam turned his head, his gaze falling on my stiff, dead face. He froze. The glare from the LCD screen was blinding. The background noise from the TV was deafening. I almost missed the sheen of moisture that gathered in his eyes, and the single, whispered word that followed. “Sorry.” What was he apologizing for? I raised my hand, covering my eyes as my soul drowned in a flood of memories, shattering my thoughts into a million pieces. 6 Liam had never done anything to wrong me. We had known each other for three months, and in that time, we’d only met five times. The first time was when I found out I was pregnant. The second was when he came to discuss our marriage arrangements. The third was on our wedding day. After the ceremony, he gave me a slight nod, his voice gentle. “I’ll be staying in the guest room next door. You can find me if you need anything.” I breathed a sigh of relief. A marriage born from an accident wasn’t about love; it was about responsibility. He was willing to be responsible, and I agreed. That was all there was to it. As for any further… marital duties, I wasn’t ready. After the wedding, before we even had a chance to get to know each other, my company assigned me to an overseas project. I asked for Liam’s opinion. “It’s your job,” he said. “You can make your own decision.” With his blessing, I left. When I returned from my business trip, he left for his. The last time I saw him alive was three nights ago. He was leaning against the kitchen island, a glass of red wine filled to the brim. The air was thick with its intoxicating aroma. His eyes were hazy as he looked at me. “You’re back.” He slid off the barstool, swaying slightly. I wondered what he was doing, but then I saw him take a clean glass and pour me a glass of warm milk. “You can’t drink while you’re pregnant. Milk instead?” I blinked and took the glass. It was the closest I’d ever been to him. He gently placed the needle on an old record player, and the soft, scratchy notes of Mozart filled the room. The atmosphere grew thick with unspoken things. He leaned in closer. The scent of wine mingled with a sweet, citrusy fragrance. The perfume didn’t quite seem to suit him. The thought had barely formed in my mind when I heard him say, “Mia, you have no heart.” I looked up, stunned, ready to ask him why he was insulting me, when he cupped the back of my head and lowered his lips to mine. It was my first sober kiss. And my last. The next morning, he left a note saying he was going on a business trip and rushed out of the city. I chalked the kiss up to another accident, planning to ask him about his vision for our marriage when he returned. We were married, after all. Even if there was no love, we could build it. We had a baby on the way, a long, long future to live together. But I would never get to ask him my question. A kiss goodbye had become a final farewell. 7 I hugged my knees, sitting on the sofa next to my own corpse. Thankfully, the sofa was long enough for one man, one body, and one ghost. A ringing phone pulled me from my reverie. Liam answered. The vulnerability I thought I’d seen in him vanished in an instant, erased completely. His voice, usually deep and carrying a cold, imposing weight, was back to normal. I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end was saying, but his hand resting on the sofa clenched into a fist. The veins under his skin pulsed, betraying his anger. “Bring her to me,” he commanded coldly. “Bring who?” I asked instinctively. But with only that one line, I couldn’t figure it out. I never liked to dwell on things I couldn’t solve, so I pushed the question aside and went back to watching my favorite show. If someone had told me before that you could still watch TV after you die, I would have thought they were insane. But here I was. Liam hadn’t changed the channel. As I was getting lost in the program, he spoke out of nowhere. “Rose.” “Huh?” I paused. Wasn’t that the name of the girl who killed me? Why would Liam suddenly say her name? But after that one word, he fell silent again. I floated around to his side and leaned over his shoulder, blowing a puff of air at him. I remembered some meme I’d seen online and whispered, “You know, there are two types of people I can’t stand in this world. The first is people who stop talking mid-sentence.” Liam didn’t move a muscle. Disappointed, I floated back to my spot. He can’t hear me, so of course he wouldn’t be curious. From the corner of my eye, I noticed his posture was ramrod straight. Such good manners, to sit so properly even while watching TV. How annoying. 8 Someone even more annoying showed up half an hour later. When Rose was dragged into the villa’s living room, I felt a strange sense of inevitability. So that’s who Liam meant. He was bringing her here. It was almost as if… he was answering my unspoken question. He really was a good person. I sat on the arm of the sofa, swinging my spectral legs. Rose was flanked by two bodyguards, forced to her knees in the center of the room, facing my direction. Facing my corpse. Her face was flushed, showing no hint of guilt or remorse. Instead, her eyes shone with a disturbing excitement. “She’s dead. She’s really dead. This is great, this is great, this is great…” she chanted under her breath. I circled her, the sound of her voice grating on me. “You’re so loud!” Apparently, Liam couldn’t stand it either. A bodyguard quickly stepped forward and clamped a hand over her mouth, turning her repetitive mantra into muffled sobs. It was a long time before she fell quiet. I crouched down beside her. Rose wasn’t old. You could tell from the blue and white uniform she was still wearing. She was just a student. The crest of Crestview High was stitched onto her chest. The moment I recognized that symbol, a flood of unwelcome memories washed over me. Rose’s shriek broke my train of thought. “This is kidnapping! It’s illegal!” The toe of Liam’s shoe appeared in my field of vision. He let out a cold laugh and grabbed her by the chin. Her young, delicate face twisted in his grip, pain replacing her earlier smugness. The chill radiating from him was as bitter as the snowstorm outside, which was only growing worse as night fell. “Illegal?” Liam chuckled softly. “So you do know the law.” He took a sanitized wipe from someone’s hand and meticulously cleaned his fingers, the ones that had touched her. Then he casually tossed the used wipe onto her face. Liam hadn’t even started to do anything, but she was already terrified. Rose’s voice trembled. “What… what’s your relationship with Mia? She was a whore! She was selling herself in high school, every guy has had a piece of her. You were just conned! I knew her, I can tell you all about her past. Please, just let me go!” I slumped to the floor, a wave of sadness washing over me. I looked at her. “Why is it always ‘whore’? Why is slut-shaming always the go-to insult for a woman? I could almost understand it from Mike, he was a guy, spreading those disgusting rumors about me. But why are you saying it too?” I poked her cheek with a spectral finger. “Oh, right. I forgot. You’re his fan. Like master, like follower. You’re all just garbage.” The smile on Liam’s face deepened. His voice dropped to a gentle, almost seductive murmur. “Her past?” Those two words validated Rose’s existence. And she began to talk, spilling everything like a broken dam—about me, about Mike. About those three years in high school. 9 Rose was a year below me. Her knowledge of me was pieced together from campus gossip. Crestview High was one of the best schools in the city, an alma mater to countless prominent figures, from scientists to entertainers. The former required years of dedication; the latter, just one lucky break. Mike Vance was Crestview High’s most famous student in recent memory. He shot to fame as a teenager, playing the second male lead in a fantasy epic that became a cultural phenomenon, making him the nation’s beloved tragic hero. His stellar grades made him stand out in an industry full of high school dropouts, earning him legions of fans. None of this had anything to do with me. What did have to do with me was that, in high school, Mike Vance sat behind me. The shy, respectful boy he played on screen was just an act. In private, he was a psycho. He’d play with my hair in class and snap my bra strap during breaks. When I’d whirl around to tell him to stop, he’d report me to the teacher for harassing him. He was already famous back then, so the teacher automatically assumed I was a starstruck fan. She advised me to focus on my studies and not get distracted by celebrities. There were no security cameras in classrooms back then, and my classmates, enamored with the popular star, didn’t care about my side of the story. The teacher meant well, so I couldn’t get mad at her. I just swallowed my anger and requested a seat change. The girl who switched with me was one of Mike’s biggest fans. She was so thrilled to be his new deskmate that she gave me a huge bag of snacks. Poor girl, I thought. You’re about to be harassed and you’re this happy about it. But it turned out she wasn’t the one being harassed. It was still me. When Mike couldn’t reach my hair anymore, he found other ways to torment me. He’d hide my homework, pour soda on my textbooks. Once, I found a dead rat in my desk, blood trickling from its eyes and mouth. So, the unlucky one had always been me. Furious, I poked a hole in my test paper, picked up the rat by its tail, and marched to the teacher’s office. She was horrified. After hearing my story, she thought for a moment and transferred me to the class next door. After that, I had a period of peace. The only annoyance was that Mike would always hang around the window of my new classroom during breaks, laughing and joking with his friends. Just seeing him pissed me off. If only it had ended there. We probably would both still be alive today. His secret crush would have remained a secret. He wouldn’t have fallen into a depression and killed himself, and I wouldn’t have been caught in this disaster. “If only.” It’s a magical phrase. It lets you imagine a past that never was, and dream of a future that could have been. But in the real world, there are no “if onlys.” 10 The turning point came at the end of my sophomore year. Crestview was a fairly liberal school; students having phones wasn’t a big deal. One day, my phone started vibrating uncontrollably. A storm of calls from unknown numbers, one after another. I’d hang up, and another would immediately come through. During study hall, my classmates kept looking at me. I was confused. My phone was on silent, no vibration. How could it be disturbing them? Then, my deskmate tapped my shoulder. She pointed me toward the internet. A post on the school’s online forum. The first thing I saw was my picture. The text was a self-introduction, a list of prices, and my phone number. The post had been pushed to the homepage; even students from other schools were seeing it. I stared, stunned, and then answered the next call. A middle-aged man’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Mia Reed, right? I saw your post. I’m flying into town for two days. How much, flight included?” I glanced down at my deskmate’s phone, the meaning of his words sinking in with a bizarre clarity. I couldn’t stop myself. “Fuck off, you creep!” 11 The rumor spread like wildfire. Soon, the way my classmates looked at me changed. Boys started approaching me with offers, following me, saying they could hook me up with clients. It was the first time I realized that the people around me, my peers, could be like this. That period is a blur. The human brain has a way of forgetting things it doesn’t want to remember. I only recall one day, someone broke into our apartment. My mom died protecting me. For a while after that, I was in a daze, completely lost in depression. Later, the first person to publicly defend me was my deskmate. The second… was Mike Vance. He declared that it had to be a malicious rumor, that Mia would never do something like that. My deskmate was a bookworm; she didn’t have the influence that Mike did. After he spoke up, many of the students who had been suspicious started to show me sympathy. How strange. I was trying to solve a math problem, but my mind drifted. A line from somewhere I’d read popped into my head. “The person who slanders you knows your innocence better than anyone else.” Even though Mike had helped me, I just couldn’t stand him. There was no logical reason for it. Maybe our energies just clashed. My gut feeling about him turned out to be right. At our graduation party, one of his friends got blackout drunk and let it slip that Mike was the one who posted the ad. I overheard it in the hallway. When I went back into the private room, I walked right into his public confession of love. To be fair, after that incident, Mike, probably on someone’s advice, started trying to be my friend. He was nice to me. The bullying tactics were put away, as if they’d never happened. He had a crush on me. I wasn’t an idiot. I could see it in our daily interactions. An unrequited love stays hidden not because it’s well-concealed, but because the object of affection pretends not to see. I had been playing blind for two years, but he was determined to force my eyes open. Students from both our classes were cheering, congratulating us. I just tilted my head and asked him, “You say you like me. Do you even deserve to?” At eighteen, he couldn’t handle the blow. His face went pale. He asked me why. He didn’t understand. I understood even less. “Do I look like I have some kind of victim complex? That I’d fall for the guy who bullied me and spread rumors that I was a prostitute? Mike, nobody could ever love a piece of trash like you.” He swayed on his feet, looking like he was about to collapse. I walked past him and went back to my seat. And that was the end of my high school story. To use a term that’s been run into the ground now, I suppose I was Mike’s “one that got away.” He never forgot about me, sending me messages every so often to update me on his life, asking me out to dinner. I blocked his number. Out of sight, out of mind. The last time we spoke was a few days ago, when he called me from a new number. The wind was howling on his end of the line. His calm voice was nearly swallowed by it. “Mia, if you make one mistake, does that mean you can never be forgiven?” I knew what he was talking about. “Yes,” I said. His voice grew quieter. “If I died, would you forgive me then?” I blinked. “You could always try it. Maybe I’d forgive you then.” A rush of wind screamed through the phone. I hung up. I was lying. Even if he died, I would never forgive him. 12 “…and that’s the story. Everyone in high school knew Mia was a prostitute. For the right price, even a beggar could have her. You need to see that woman for who she really is!” Rose sobbed, embellishing her story as she pleaded with Liam. “And I have proof on my phone!” she said, her voice rising with excitement. “My phone! It’s on my phone!” Liam looked down, his expression unreadable. “Oh? What kind of proof?” Sensing hesitation, Rose eagerly demanded her phone back. Once it was unlocked, she found a saved recording. “This is the last call Mike ever made to her. She’s a vicious, evil woman!” The recording was clear. It was indeed my conversation with Mike. “If I died, would you forgive me then?” “You could always try it. Maybe I’d forgive you then.” Rose was practically vibrating with righteousness. “See?! She was goading him into it! A woman like that deserved to die!” Liam’s expression turned focused, deadly serious. “Is there more?” he asked, his tone flat. Rose froze for a second, then frantically scrolled through her gallery. Finally, she found a video. The moment she pressed play, the sounds of a woman’s cries and a man’s lewd laughter filled the villa. Listening closely, both voices were sickeningly familiar. “I paid a lot of money for this,” Rose said, holding the phone up to Liam as if presenting a trophy. Liam’s face looked as if it had been swept by a Siberian blizzard, frozen so solid he couldn’t even raise his eyebrows. He held out his hand to Rose. “Give it to me.” For the first time, Rose hesitated. Liam snatched the phone from her. My heart, or whatever passed for it now, seized. I knew what video that was. Those distant memories, the ones I had deliberately buried, came rushing back. I lifted a spectral hand to my face. It felt… damp.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384636”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My parents were away on a business trip, leaving me and my little brother, Mark, to fend for ourselves. We decided to kill time with a game of “Something You Don’t Have.” I smiled, laying my palm flat on the table. “Mom baked me a birthday cake from scratch.” Mark just shrugged, casually folding one finger down. “My name is on the deed to the house.” I froze. He pressed his advantage, a smug grin spreading across his face. “And I’m the sole beneficiary on all of their life insurance policies.” My hand hovered in mid-air, fingers stiff. My mind went completely blank, the next sentence I’d been about to say catching in my throat. What I had wanted to say was that I have cancer. And I probably don’t have much time left. 1 “What, you don’t believe me?” Mark scoffed, sauntering over to the safe. He pulled out two official-looking folders and a stack of printed contracts, laying them all out neatly in front of me. “See for yourself, genius.” My hands trembled, but I opened them. The three-bedroom house we were living in, the old cottage out in the country, and more than a dozen insurance policies. Mark Miller’s name was on every single one. And me, Abby Miller, I was nowhere to be found in that thick stack of documents. Not a ghost of a mention. “So? Looks like you lose this round, huh?” Mark crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair like a king on his throne. He was right. I had lost. I didn’t even know the combination to that safe. But he had opened it without a second thought. “Cat got your tongue? You’re not gonna play your next card?” He waved a hand in front of my face, still waiting for me to continue the game. I closed the folders and stacked the contracts one by one, my voice a dry rasp. “Fine. You win.” Before this moment, Mark and I had a lifetime of sibling rivalry under our belts, a war of attrition where he never seemed to gain any ground. Mom always had my back. “Abby’s a girl, Mark,” she’d say. “A gentleman always lets the lady have her way.” So, I always got the first pick of snacks, the first choice of games. I even had the biggest bedroom in the house. Growing up, Mark would constantly whine in my ear, “Mom and Dad are so biased. You’re the only one they really love.” All these years, I’d basked in that favoritism while secretly feeling a pang of guilt for my brother. So even when he’d tell me to drop dead, I’d just brush it off as him blowing off steam. But now, I really was dying. Just last month, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. The doctor told me it had already spread. Surgery was off the table; there was no chance of success. All I had left was to live out my remaining time as comfortably as possible, to manage the pain. Because I truly believed my parents “loved me most,” I couldn’t bear to tell them the truth about my illness. I’d planned to use their business trip as an opportunity, to use this silly game as a way to gently break the news to my brother—the one person I thought hated me most. But now… now I didn’t want to say a thing. Mark cleared his throat. “You don’t have to give up so fast. You’ve still got three fingers left.” I just smiled and shook my head. “I’m done. It’s getting late. We should get some sleep.” He noticed the shift in my mood, his tone turning contemptuous. “Hey, don’t tell me you’re actually going to go kill yourself over this.” “If you do, make sure you do it somewhere else. I don’t want it coming back on me.” It was his typical way of talking, something I’d grown used to. But hearing that word—kill—this time, my nose stung, and my eyes began to burn against my will. I paused, saying nothing as I walked straight to my room. Just as I reached the door, I heard his voice again. “There’s one more thing I didn’t tell you. Do you want to—” “No.” I didn’t turn around, forcing a calm smile. “I don’t want to hear it. Just go to bed, Mark.” I quietly shut the door behind me and pulled out the bucket list I’d made a few days ago. Climb a mountain to see the sunrise together. Take one last family photo. A trip to the beach… All these things I wanted to do with my family before I died. Was there even any point now? I fought back the searing sting in my eyes, stubbornly refusing to let a single tear fall. 2 At one in the morning, my body ached so intensely that sleep was impossible. Wiping the cold sweat from my forehead, I decided to look for some painkillers in Mom’s drawer. It was where she always kept her medicine, but now, tucked inside, was a diary I’d never seen before. The cover was yellowed with age, the handwriting unmistakably hers. “My sweet Mark smiled for the first time today. His eyes are like little stars, so full of love.” “Mark has a fever again. His father and I stayed up all night watching over him. Our hearts are breaking…” I flipped through page after page, but my name was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t until the very last few pages that I finally found a mention of me. “Mark is starting to fight for things, but he’s three years younger than his sister. He can’t win. Sometimes I just want to slap that girl.” “What can I do? I told Mark today that Mom and Dad will make it up to him in secret, giving him double of whatever he wants.” “It’s just some toys and snacks, what are they worth? Let her win for now. When she’s happy, she’ll feel guilty towards her brother. Trading a few small favors for our son’s long-term benefit… it’s a brilliant deal.” I placed the diary back in the drawer, my body shivering with a sudden, uncontrollable cold. So that was what she really thought. So their love for me had been nothing more than a calculated scheme. For as long as I could remember, she and Dad had always let me win in all the small, insignificant battles. A few bags of chips, some toys, a slightly bigger bedroom. In exchange, my brother got the property, the insurance policies, and their genuine, heartfelt love. The parents I had adored my entire life… they didn’t love me at all. A wave of icy nausea washed over me. I scrambled to the bathroom, violent spasms seizing my stomach and rising in my throat. Eventually, I collapsed onto the cold tile floor, gasping for breath. I don’t know when Mark came in, but he was clearly startled by the sight of me. “Did you eat something bad?” I wiped the tears from my face, my voice weak. “Stomach cramps.” “Aren’t there painkillers in Mom’s drawer?” I shook my head. “They’re all gone.” “God, you’re such a pain.” He sounded incredibly annoyed, but he still turned and started putting on his jacket by the door. “Wait here. I’ll go buy you some. But it’s a fifty-dollar delivery fee, and I want it upfront.” As the front door clicked shut, I used the wall to pull myself up and happened to see Mark’s phone, left behind on the entryway table. The screen lit up with the ping of a few new notifications. I walked over, my eyes fixing on the latest message. It was from a group chat named “Our Perfect Family.” There were three members. And me, the outsider, had never known it existed. Mom: “Honey, Dad and I just finished up here. We’ll be back in a couple of days. I managed to get you that limited-edition figure you wanted! It was the very last one, I had to pay a fortune for it.” Mom: “P.S. When you get back to campus, make sure you hide it in your dorm room. Don’t you dare tell your sister. She was going on and on about wanting one three months ago.” I let out a bitter laugh and turned off the screen. A strange calm settled over me. It didn’t matter. When you’re about to die, nothing really matters anymore. 3 The day my parents came home, a light rain was falling from a gray sky. As always, the first thing they did was show me the gifts they’d brought. “Abby, honey, that figure you told me you wanted was sold out everywhere. But don’t worry, Mom pulled some strings and got you this mini version.” Pulled some strings? I looked at the crudely made knockoff, and all I could feel was a bitter, biting irony. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? It took a lot of effort to get, you know.” But what could I do? I couldn’t force a smile. Seeing the look on my face, my dad’s temper flared. “Abby Miller, your mother went to great lengths and spent a lot of money to bring that back for you, and you have the nerve to look so ungrateful? Have we spoiled you rotten?” “Look at your brother! He didn’t get anything, and he’s not acting like a brat!” He didn’t get anything? I’m the ungrateful one? Had they been playing this part for so long they’d started to believe their own lies? In that moment, I decided I wasn’t going to let this go. I asked, my voice cold and sharp, “Mom, are you sure you couldn’t find the limited-edition one?” The words hung in the air. Everyone froze. My mother’s eyes darted to Mark, and she muttered under her breath, “You silly boy, I told you not to tell her.” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “You don’t have to look at him, Mom. I already know everything.” “You… what do you know?” Her confidence was gone, her words stumbling over each other. It was Mark who spoke up, his voice steady. “Mom, I told her. She was going to find out about the house and the insurance eventually. Why keep lying?” The air grew thick with a heavy silence. My parents’ faces turned ugly. Under my unwavering gaze, my mother slowly composed herself, her voice regaining its familiar tone of self-righteousness. “Fine. If you know, then there’s nothing left to hide.” “You put your hand on your heart and tell me, Abby. In every single fight between you and Mark, haven’t your father and I always taken your side?” “We gave you all the attention, and we gave Mark the assets. It’s perfectly fair.” I laughed again, the sound hollow. Fair? What a joke. A familiar, twisting pain clawed at my stomach. I clapped a hand over my mouth, doubling over as I ran for the bathroom, dry-heaving violently. My mother, dropping her aggressive posture, followed me to the door, a flicker of concern in her voice. “Wh-what’s wrong? Did you eat something that disagreed with you?” I shook my head, leaning against the wall, unable to stand up straight. Mark frowned. “Throwing up again? Do you need me to get you more painkillers?” My mom looked at me, confused. “What do you mean, again? Has this been happening a lot?” Without thinking, I wiped my mouth and asked with a bitter smile, “Mom, if I were sick… would you be worried about me?” She didn’t answer. Instead, her gaze dropped to my stomach, a complex expression clouding her face. In the next second, she lunged into the bathroom, her hand flying up and connecting with my cheek in a stinging slap. “You have the nerve to say you’re sick? Abby, you’re only twenty-one! You haven’t even graduated from college, and you let some guy knock you up?” What? How could she think that? My mother’s voice dripped with fury. “I ran into your professor the other day. She mentioned you had several boys chasing after you at school. Now I see she was trying to warn me, wasn’t she!” “Running around, throwing yourself at boys at your age! You’re a disgrace!” Hearing the commotion, my dad stormed in from the living room and grabbed me by the collar of my pajamas. “Have you no shame? Is everything I ever taught you just gone to waste?” My legs gave out from under me, and I crumpled to the floor, but he yanked me back up. “I’m not,” I argued weakly. “I’m really sick, I…” My dad wasn’t listening. He dragged me furiously towards the front door and, without a shred of mercy, shoved me outside. “Would your mother lie? Would she be wrong about something like this?” “You want to be shameless? Then get out and think about what you’ve done!” The rain was coming down harder now. I pounded on the door, my fists raw, but it was no use. Eventually, I gave up and just started walking, aimlessly, down the cold, empty street, soaked to the bone. When they threw me out, I was only in my pajamas and slippers. I hadn’t even had time to grab my phone. Cold and hunger began to set in. I had no idea where to go. As dusk settled, I stopped a passerby and borrowed their phone, swallowing my pride to call my mother. “Mom, it’s getting dark. I don’t have my phone or any money. Can you please let me come home?” “No. Your father said you can come back when you’re ready to admit you were wrong.” Tears welled in my eyes. “But what was I wrong about? I told you, I’m not pregnant. I’m just sick.” My dad snatched the phone away, his voice booming through the receiver. “Abby, are you still lying? I see you haven’t learned a thing!” “If you have nowhere to go, then go find the father of that bastard child and make him take responsibility for you!” The line went dead, leaving only the dull hum of the dial tone. I numbly handed the phone back, feeling like a stray dog left out in the storm. The rain seemed to fall even harder. I hugged myself, walking blindly into a dingy little motel. I had a few crumpled bills in my pajama pocket, just enough to afford a single night in a place like this. The room was dark and damp, with just a single, sagging bed and a shared bathroom down the hall. I drew the thin curtains, my stomach growling. I checked my pocket again. A few dollars left. I locked the door and decided to go to the small convenience store across the street to buy a cup of ramen. The narrow, poorly lit hallway was filled with the loud, foul-mouthed shouts of a few drunk men. I pulled the hood of my pajamas over my head, kept my eyes on the floor, and tried to hurry past them. Suddenly, a tall man blocked my path, his eyes raking over me in a way that made my skin crawl. “Hey, sweet thing. How much for the night?” I ignored him, my heart pounding, trying to stay calm as I walked past. My legs felt like jelly. When I got back to the motel, the men were gone. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and fumbled for my key. As I went to unlock the door, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind. He dragged me into a corner of the hallway, his voice urgent and rough. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks. You in or not?” I shook my head frantically, but all that came out were muffled whimpers. The man’s patience snapped. “Don’t play hard to get. I saw you earlier. What good girl checks into a sleazy motel at night wearing pajamas? You’re here for business, right?” I struggled with all my might, but his grip only tightened, squeezing the air from my lungs. Soon, my strength failed me. He dragged me violently into his room. The world became a blur of pain as he slapped me across the face, then grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from the nightstand and brought it down on my head. My head swam, and a hot bloom of pain was the last thing I felt before the world went dark.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384635”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was one in the morning when the call came. It was from the widow of my husband’s fallen partner, her voice trembling with fear. She thought she had an intruder. My husband, Liam, who hadn’t slept in three days from a stakeout, didn’t hesitate. He bolted out the door to be with her. He didn’t come back until dawn. “It’s not easy for Hannah, being on her own,” he explained, seeing me still sitting on the couch where he’d left me. “Especially now that Mark’s gone. Every little noise must terrify her.” When I didn’t respond, he sighed and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “Hannah is the widow of a hero, Stella. As his captain, it’s my duty to look after her. But I promise, I’ll cut back. Don’t be upset, okay?” I calmly removed his hand, refusing to be the understanding wife I’d always been. “Let’s get a divorce.” 1 Liam’s cheeks were hollowed from exhaustion, his eyes a spiderweb of red veins. Even his breathing was ragged. His hands clenched into fists, then relaxed. He pressed himself against me again, putting on his best sad puppy eyes. “Honey, don’t say things you don’t mean. I’ll stop going over, okay? I’ll pass the responsibility of looking after Hannah to one of the other guys on the team.” No one would ever believe that the man who was invincible on the streets, the unshakable captain, turned into a big, gentle cat at home, purring and pleading for my affection. It was that contrast, that hidden softness, that made me marry him, even after I knew the dangers of his job could spill over into our lives. But now, I turned my head away and stood up, moving out of his reach. “I’m not angry. I’m serious. You can keep looking after Hannah.” “But we’re getting a divorce.” Liam’s brow furrowed. He shifted uncomfortably, but when he saw the hard line of my mouth, his expression softened again. He stayed on his knees and shuffled closer, resting his head against my chest like a big, overgrown dog. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about how you’d feel when I took this on. I already have so little time for you, and now I’m giving it to someone else. And I know how jealous you can get.” “I made my darling wife wait up for me all night, angry and alone. I’m the worst. But I haven’t slept in four days, Stella. I’m exhausted. Let me get some rest, and I promise I’ll make it up to my jealous little firecracker tomorrow.” He couldn’t stifle a yawn, reaching for my hand to lead me to the bedroom. Anyone hearing him would have taken his side. Here was a man so tired he could barely stand, yet he was still patiently trying to soothe his unreasonable, spoiled wife. But I wasn’t having it. I yanked my hand away, my voice firm and clear. “I said, I want a divorce!” Caught off guard, Liam stumbled backward, knocking over the ceramic vase we had made together on a pottery class date. It shattered on the floor. He looked down, his eyes slowly clearing, the exhaustion momentarily burned away by shock. My repeated demands for a divorce had finally pushed him past his limit. “I apologized. I promised I’d stay away from Hannah. Why isn’t that enough for you?” “You’re the one who said ‘divorce’ is a word we should never use lightly. You’ve said it twice tonight. What the hell do you want, Stella?” He even remembered that. Something I’d said offhandedly, a drunken joke from years ago. “Liam, this isn’t about jealousy, and I don’t need you to coddle me. I want a divorce.” “I want to be completely, permanently done with you.” CRACK! His fist flew past my ear and slammed into the wall behind me. My eyelashes fluttered, but I didn’t flinch. “I’ll have a lawyer draft the papers. I won’t take a penny more than what’s mine. All you’ll have to do is sign. I’ll handle the rest.” My final words were lost as I saw his eyes glisten with tears. He raised his hand, and I instinctively shut my eyes, but he only pressed his palm against his face, his voice thick with emotion. “Honey, stop. Whatever it is you don’t like, I’ll change it. I’ll change anything. Just please… please don’t leave me.” The all-powerful man, showing a raw vulnerability he saved only for me, a sight that would make anyone forgive him anything. But I stood my ground, pushing him out of my way. “I don’t like living in constant fear. And I don’t like you running to another woman’s house every night. Can you change that?” Liam’s eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn’t comprehend that I—the woman who had stood by him even after a suspect’s knife had found its way into my side—was saying these words. His face hardened. I held his gaze and finished what I had to say. “I’ll have the papers for you to sign tomorrow.” The silence that followed was broken by a sharp intake of breath from the guest room. My in-laws, woken by the noise, came rushing out. 2 Liam’s father kicked him squarely in the back of the knee, his voice a low growl. “Apologize to Stella. Running off to another woman’s house in the middle of the night and then coming home to yell at your wife? Is this how I raised you?” His mother dabbed at her eyes, taking my hand in hers. “It’s our fault, dear. We didn’t teach Liam right. You’ve been wronged.” “But looking after a widow is his duty,” she added, her tone shifting. “He can’t just abandon that responsibility. Imagine what people would say. It would destroy his reputation.” “From now on, we’ll keep a closer eye on him, make sure he knows his boundaries.” The elderly couple looked at me with pleading eyes. Just as I was about to speak, a phone rang. Liam, still kneeling on the floor, answered it instantly. “Hannah? What’s wrong?” Hannah’s voice on the other end was a shaky mix of relief and terror. She was sobbing. “Liam… the police just caught a burglar in the complex. He… he murdered a family of three down the hall. During his confession, he said his original target was my apartment.” “If you hadn’t come over… if you hadn’t stayed with me… that would have been me last night.” Three pairs of eyes snapped towards me. Liam was still trying to comfort Hannah. Hearing the tension in his voice, she quickly asked, “Liam, did you explain everything to your wife? She’s not mad, is she?” “Last night was so dangerous. Being a hero’s widow… it makes me a target. I don’t know how I’d survive without your help.” “If she’s still upset, I’ll come over and apologize to her myself.” Liam’s expression was one of pure frustration. He soothed her in a low voice. “Stella’s a little upset, yes. But now that she knows how dangerous it was, I’m sure she won’t be angry with you anymore. Don’t worry.” The implication was clear. If I continued to be angry, I would be the unreasonable one. I snatched the phone from his hand, my voice calm and cold. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Because I’m divorcing Liam. You can save your apologies for his next wife.” I hung up, and before the three stunned faces around me could react, I walked out of the apartment. “Since we’re getting a divorce, it’s better if I move out. It will make splitting the assets easier.” “Stella!” Liam’s voice was like ice behind me, but I didn’t turn back. “I can’t keep coddling you every single time. If I hadn’t been there last night, Hannah could be dead. You have the facts right in front of you. Are you still going to fight me on this?” His words made me feel, for a fleeting moment, like a hysterical, irrational woman. But I stepped out the door and left anyway. I found an apartment to rent. As I was leaving the building, I noticed several plainclothes officers lingering downstairs. Liam’s job was dangerous, and threats against his family were common. Living with him was safe. Living alone multiplied the risk. He had said he wouldn’t coddle me, but he had still reported my move to his unit and requested a protective detail for me. He had told me once, if I ever got hurt because of him again, he would lose his mind. I looked away, my face impassive, and accepted a folder from the lawyer who was waiting for me. The divorce papers. I had been messaging Liam since morning, trying to arrange a time to sign them. He hadn’t responded. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer and dialed his number. He declined the call almost instantly. I frowned, standing frozen for a moment. Suddenly, the officers protecting me started moving, their postures tense. One of them approached me, his face grim. “Ms. Martinez,” he said, using my maiden name. “Captain Foster is in the ICU. They need a family member to sign for surgery.” His tone was laced with resentment. “The captain was in the middle of a high-risk operation. Your call gave away his position. He’s been shot. He might lose his arm.” 3 The hospital hallway was crowded with Liam’s teammates. Their eyes were red, filled with blame as they watched me approach. One of them turned and punched the wall in frustration. I walked past them without flinching and entered the room. Liam was lying on the bed, his face as white as the sheets. When he saw me, he managed a weak, reassuring smile. “Don’t be scared. I’m okay. It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine.” He reached out for my hand, but I pulled away. Beside the bed, a young officer named Ricky couldn’t hold back his anger. “Just sign the papers,” he snarled. “If he doesn’t get surgery soon, the captain could die.” I gave him a cool glance and pulled the divorce agreement from my bag. “I’m not signing the consent form. If you want to live, you’ll sign this divorce agreement. Let your parents be your next of kin.” “You—!” A vein throbbed on Ricky’s temple. He lunged at me, his face contorted with rage, looking like he wanted to tear me apart before his teammates grabbed him and held him back. My gaze swept over their shocked faces. Threatening my own husband’s life to force a divorce. They had probably never met a woman as venomous as me. Liam’s expression shifted through a dozen emotions before he finally closed his eyes, his voice raspy. “Is this all because I stayed with Hannah last night?” Under the weight of a dozen glares that felt like they could skin me alive, I answered flatly. “Yes. It’s because you stayed with Hannah.” As the words left my mouth, someone grabbed my collar from behind, yanking me off balance. Seeing who it was, Liam tried to sit up, a gasp of pain forcing him back down. “Hannah, don’t touch her.” Hannah was covered in dried blood, her limbs so thin she looked like a skeleton. She seemed unnaturally weak. “If you hate me, I can disappear from your lives forever. But Liam is hurt. He can’t wait. If he doesn’t have surgery, he’ll be crippled.” “I already owe him so much. If he becomes disabled because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.” Another officer, Jake, the most capable on the team besides Liam, helped Hannah up as she sobbed into her hands. His eyes were spitting fire at me. “Why would the captain marry a stupid, evil woman like you? He risks his life every day to protect people, and all you can think about is your petty jealousy.” “Even if the captain did cheat on you, it would be because you drove him to it!” It was only then that I learned the full story. Liam had been shot while trying to shield Hannah from the line of fire. He could have avoided it otherwise. I let out a cold laugh and turned to Liam. “You said you were passing the responsibility for Hannah to your teammates. Why were you with her today?” “Liam, you’re so protective of her. Are you two already a thing?” “Stella!” The veins on Liam’s forehead bulged. His hand whipped out, the slap echoing through the silent room. The force of it split my lip, and I calmly spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “Liam, how could you hit Stella!” My in-laws, who had just arrived, cried out, rushing to pull me behind them. Liam was panting, his chest heaving. “She can hit me, she can scream at me, but she will not insult the widow of a fallen hero.” The elderly couple looked at me in disbelief. I tilted my chin up. “Did I hit a nerve? You spend every day at her house, you even stay the night. Don’t tell me nothing is going on.” Hannah’s crying stopped for a second. Her eyes flickered away before she let out an even louder wail, crying that she wanted to die. The room felt like it was about to explode. If my in-laws weren’t shielding me, I would have been buried under a pile of fists. But I didn’t care. I held up the divorce papers and threw them in Liam’s face. “If you don’t sign these, I can spread a lot more rumors about you and Hannah. I wonder how her fragile mental state will handle that.” “I have all the time in the world. I wonder if your arm does.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384634”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Just after giving birth, I was added to an online group for secondhand baby items. Inside, a single used baby bottle was up for auction. The starting bid was a staggering $9,900. “What’s the model? Weight?” I was baffled. Why would a used bottle sell for a fortune? The next second, a photo of my daughter, Lily, appeared in the chat. The group admin replied: “Eight pounds. Limited edition. One of a kind.” “Limited edition model, weighs eight pounds. For those in the know.” I stared at the screen, my brow furrowed in confusion. The picture was just a plain glass baby bottle, but the description was bizarre. Stranger still, someone immediately asked a follow-up question. “What type?” The admin’s reply was swift: “Type B. Purity guaranteed.” Before I could process it, the admin posted another photo. It was a baby’s calf, and on the fair skin was a pale red, heart-shaped birthmark. My breath caught in my throat. The location, the shape, even the faint, jagged edges of that birthmark… It was identical to my daughter’s. I stared at the screen, my throat tightening. Suddenly, the chat exploded with messages: “$20,000.” “$25,000. Don’t get in my way!” “$30,000. Cash. Can make the exchange tonight.” My fingers were ice-cold, my grip on the phone failing. Were they auctioning my daughter? “$50,000.” An ID named “Blackhawk” suddenly placed a bid. The chat went silent for a second. Then the admin sent a voice message. I clicked play. A man’s raspy voice chuckled. “Alright. Same rules as always. 11 PM tonight, Pier 3 warehouse. Inspect the goods, pay up. No funny business.” My head snapped up to the clock on the wall—8:30 PM. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I scrambled to my feet and ran for the bedroom. The moment I pushed the door open, my heart stopped. My husband, Ethan, was holding Lily, the keys to the stroller dangling from his hand. He looked like he was about to leave. “What are you doing?!” My voice trembled, sharper than I intended. He flinched, then frowned at me. “I was just taking her for a walk downstairs. You said she was a little fussy today and could use some fresh air.” My eyes were glued to my daughter. She was wearing her light blue bear onesie, babbling as she played with her father’s collar. The heart-shaped birthmark on her leg was faintly visible in the light. “Don’t bother!” I practically lunged at him, snatching our daughter from his arms. Ethan was startled, reaching out to steady me. “What’s wrong with you? Did something happen?” I clutched Lily tightly, my fingers digging into her swaddle. “I’ll take her for a walk. You get some rest.” He looked at me, suspicion in his eyes. “You’re pale as a ghost. And your hands are shaking.” “Probably just low blood sugar.” I forced a weak smile, backing away. “I’ll grab a snack while I’m out. You just wait here for me.” Before he could say another word, I turned and rushed out, forgetting to even grab my jacket. As the elevator doors closed, I looked down at Lily. She was staring up at me with wide, round eyes, her tiny hand gripping my collar. Tears streamed down my face. “Mommy won’t let anyone take you,” I whispered, my voice choked with sobs as I kissed her forehead. The elevator reached the ground floor. As the doors opened, a blast of cold air hit me. At the same moment, my phone chimed. I pulled it out, the screen’s cold light illuminating my ashen face. Admin: “Change of plans. Exchange moved to 11 PM tomorrow. Same location.” I stared at the message, my mind buzzing. The moment I took Lily out of the apartment, they changed the time. Thinking of Ethan’s actions, my fingers tightened. If I was only fifty percent suspicious before, I was now one hundred percent certain. The admin was Ethan. It had to be him. My daughter whimpered in my arms, uncomfortable with my tight grip. I immediately loosened my hold, leaning down to kiss her again. “It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t be afraid. Mommy’s here.” Just then, Ethan called, asking where I’d gone with the baby. He pointed out I’d forgotten my wallet. I stammered an excuse, then turned around and saw Ethan walking towards me, my purse in his hand. “Honey, you’re so forgetful. How can I not worry about you?” he said with a sigh. “Come on, I’ll go with you.” My heart hammered against my ribs, but I had no choice but to nod and walk beside him. I couldn’t afford to tip him off. That night, back home, Lily breathed peacefully in her bassinet beside our bed. But I lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling, my ears straining to catch every sound, waiting for the right moment to escape. Around dawn, my husband suddenly sat up. I squeezed my eyes shut, evening out my breathing, pretending to be fast asleep. His footsteps were light, but I felt him pause beside the bassinet. My heart was about to burst from my chest. My fingers twisted the corner of the duvet into a knot. Then, I heard the rustle of fabric. “What are you doing?!” I shot up, my voice so shrill it startled even me. Ethan froze. After a long moment, he pulled his hand back, his tone weary. “I was just checking if she was hungry. I thought I heard her whimper.” In the darkness, I couldn’t see his face, but my fear didn’t subside. “I’ll do it.” I jumped out of bed, scooping Lily up before he could, my movements almost rough. Startled from her sleep, Lily let out a few confused cries. I quickly cradled her, rocking her gently. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. Mommy’s here.” Ethan didn’t move. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “What is wrong with you today? You’re so on edge.” “Nothing. Just tired,” I said, my back to him, trying to sound calm. He sighed. “Well, feed her and try to get some sleep.” As his soft snores filled the room, I sank onto the bed, cold sweat soaking through my pajamas. At 4 AM, Lily finally fell into a deep sleep in my arms. I gently placed her back in her bassinet, but I didn’t dare close my eyes, my fingers wrapped tightly around my phone. Ping. The screen lit up. Another group notification. Admin: “Apologies, exchange time is TBD.” It was followed by a series of photos labeled “Bonus Perks.” My hand trembled as I opened them. They were pictures of my daughter sleeping peacefully in her bed. There was even one of her crying during her vaccination appointment last week. Some of these photos, I had never even seen before. My gaze snapped to Ethan, sleeping beside me. My mind raced, replaying every strange thing about him lately. He had been working late constantly. The other night, I woke up and found him on the balcony on the phone. He hung up the second he saw me. “Just work stuff. Go back to sleep,” he’d said. How could I possibly sleep? As soon as the sky began to lighten, while Ethan was still sound asleep, I quietly bundled Lily up and slipped out of the apartment. I flagged down a taxi and went straight to my mother’s house. The entire way, I kept looking over my shoulder, terrified a car was following us. Lily just played with my hair, oblivious. “What are you doing here so early?” my mom asked, surprised to see me at her door in her pajamas. I didn’t have time to explain. I pushed Lily into her arms. “Mom, please watch her for a day. No, two days!” “And don’t tell anyone she’s here. Not even Ethan!” I had to save my daughter, but I couldn’t ignore the other children. I couldn’t let Ethan get away with this. My mom was stunned. “What’s happened?” “I’ll explain later.” I kissed Lily’s forehead, my voice cracking. “Don’t let her out of your sight for a second!” As I left, I took one last look at my daughter. She was giggling, tugging at her grandma’s collar. The sight made my nose sting. When I got home, Ethan had already left for work. I locked the door and immediately opened that godforsaken group chat. A new message made my blood run cold. Admin: “Pick-up location changed. Sunnyvale Gardens, Building 3, underground garage.” That was my mother’s address. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the phone. I dialed my mom’s number. “Hello?” Her voice was cheerful. “Mom, how’s Lily?” I asked, my voice tight. “She’s wonderful. Just had her milk and now she’s playing with her rattle.” “Have any strangers knocked on the door? Has anyone asked about a baby?” “No, dear. Why are you acting so strange?” I let out a breath of relief, but my heart was still pounding. “Mom, don’t leave the apartment for the next few days. I’ll have groceries delivered.” “Make sure no one is outside before you open the door.” Though confused, she agreed. I started secretly digging for more information in the group, hoping to gather enough evidence to go to the police. But the next morning, Ethan was gone before I woke up. I called his phone, my hands trembling. A cold, automated voice answered: “The number you have dialed is not available.” I was about to call again when my mother called me, her voice frantic. “Honey! You texted me to come downstairs to pick up some baby supplies, but I waited and you never showed up.” “When I realized something was wrong and rushed back, the baby was gone! Did Ethan take her?!” My world fell apart. “What?! I didn’t send you any message!” I checked my phone. No record of any sent texts. There was only one possibility. Ethan had realized I was onto him. He had sent the text, and then deleted it from my phone. “Mom, how long were you gone?!” “Barely ten minutes! He’s her father, he wouldn’t hurt her, would he?” My panicked tone was scaring her. I didn’t have time to explain. I hung up and bolted out the door. I jumped into a taxi. “Sunnyvale Gardens! And step on it!” As the car sped through the streets, I stared at my phone. A new message popped up in the group chat. Blackhawk: “Package received. Good condition.” Admin: “Pleasure doing business with you.” I clutched the phone, tears streaming down my face. There was nothing left but despair.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384633”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was in a rush to catch a flight for an international conference, but the TSA agent stopped me dead in my tracks. “Ma’am, our scanner is picking up some unidentified metal on your person. We’ll need you to step aside for a secondary screening.” A spike of anxiety hit me, but I understood the procedure. I fumbled through my pockets and finally found a stray coin I’d forgotten. But just as I was about to move on, she stopped me again. “Your shoes have rather thick soles. They’ll need to be screened separately.” Another twenty minutes evaporated as my shoes were turned over, prodded, and scanned before finally being returned. My departure time was now dangerously close. I grabbed my suitcase, ready to sprint to the gate. But the agent, her face fixed in the same plastic, corporate smile, pointed to the cast on my arm and stopped me for a third time. “Ma’am, for flight safety, we’ll need to conduct a further inspection of your cast…” … “Why didn’t you check it all at once? I’m going to miss my flight!” I finally snapped, my patience worn to a thread after being repeatedly pulled from the line. “How do you even inspect a cast? My arm is broken! This isn’t something I can just slip on and off!” But my anger was met with that same infuriatingly calm, plastic smile. “I’m sorry, Ms. Morgan, but we have to follow protocol.” “Please cooperate with airport regulations. We’re just doing our jobs. Please don’t make this difficult for us.” As she spoke, she ran a handheld scanner over my arm. Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm blared again. “I’m sorry, but you’ll need to come with us to a private screening room for a more thorough check.” I had already glanced at her name tag. Tina. Of all the agents, she was the one giving me the hardest time, her focus on me feeling less like procedure and more like a personal vendetta. I could feel the malice radiating from her, and I refused without a second thought. “I refuse. I’ve never heard of inspecting a medical cast! You’re deliberately targeting me!” My outburst caught the attention of other passengers, and a few spoke up in my defense. “She’s right, you’ve been checking her for ages. She hardly looks like she’s smuggling contraband.” “I’m on the same flight. We’re really cutting it close! Can’t you make an exception?” “Yeah, this seems like you’re going way too far.” Tina just offered them a hollow smile. “Going too far? I’m not sure what you mean. I’m just following the rules. Can any of you personally guarantee there’s nothing hidden in Ms. Morgan’s cast? Can you take personal responsibility for her if she becomes a threat on foreign soil? If just one of you is willing to sign off on that responsibility, I will let her go right now.” The crowd immediately went silent. I gritted my teeth and tried to walk past, but two security guards materialized, blocking my path. Just then, a different sentiment rose from the other passengers on my flight, their own patience wearing thin. “Just cooperate with them so we can all get moving!” “We’ve been waiting here forever! My time is valuable too!” “If I miss my business deal because of this, are you going to pay for it?” Defeated, I let the guards lead me to the small, sterile room. I braced myself for more harassment, but I wasn’t prepared for Tina’s first command. “Alright, you can start undressing. Please cooperate with the investigation.” I froze. The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with Tina and a few other female guards. What followed was a methodical, humiliating search. They made me strip down completely, not even allowing me to keep my underwear on. I had to bite back waves of fury, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. When they were finally done with my body, I presented the hospital documents for my arm, proving the cast contained surgical steel pins from the fracture. Tina scanned the doctor’s report and handed it back, her lips pulling into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re cleared to go. Sorry for the… inconvenience, Ms. Morgan.” I was seething. I jabbed a finger at her name tag. “Tina, is it? I’ll remember you.” She just gave me that robotic smile again. “You’re welcome to. If it helps you remember the airport’s dress code next time, then by all means, remember me.” “Now, we’ll need to escort you through the main security check one more time.” I shot her a venomous glare, pulled my clothes back on, and stormed out to go through the screening process again. I thought it was just a formality, but as a series of sharp beeps pierced the air, Tina once again stepped in front of me. 2 “What now?!” Seeing her infuriating face again, I felt like I was about to lose my mind. But Tina just kept smiling. “One moment, Ms. Morgan. You dropped this.” I stared as she held out my handbag. Had I misjudged her? Was this a moment of actual helpfulness? I took the bag, a flicker of confusion cutting through my anger. But as I turned to leave, she spoke again. “I’m very sorry, but according to regulations, we still can’t let you pass.” I was so stunned by the sheer audacity that I burst out laughing. “And what is it this time? You’ve already searched every inch of me!” Tina shrugged. “The physical inspection was clear, that’s true. However, your case is… unusual. Given the multiple alarms, it’s beyond my authority to clear you. Every one of your screenings has been logged in the system, so I’ll have to report this to my supervisor. You can leave once he gives the all-clear.” I could practically hear the plane’s engines spooling up on the tarmac. I took a deep, steadying breath. “I told you, this is a business trip! A crucial one! If I miss this flight, my company could face massive losses. Are you prepared to compensate for that?” Tina’s expression remained placid, unmoved. “If you attempt to force your way through security, you’ll be breaking federal law. That’s a situation far beyond my control.” I forced myself to ask through clenched teeth, “And when is your supervisor arriving?” She held up a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture and pulled out her phone, tapping the screen a few times. “I’m filing the report now. Please be patient.” But as I watched her, she just kept tapping, a blank expression on her face. My own anxiety spiked. In a flash of impulse, I snatched the phone from her hand. She was scrolling through a celebrity gossip site. She wasn’t filing any report. “What is the meaning of this? You’re doing this on purpose! You want me to miss my flight!” I pointed at the screen, my voice rising as the last of my composure finally shattered. “From the moment you saw me, you’ve been targeting me! The endless checks, and now this!” “Tina! I don’t even know you! We have no history, no reason for you to hate me! Why are you doing this to me? Are you going to tell me that scrolling through gossip is also part of your ‘protocol’? Can you stand there and take responsibility for a single word you’ve said to me?!” Her jaw tightened, her own mask of calm cracking for a second. I saw her clench and unclench her fists before she smoothed her features back into that plastic smile. “Ms. Morgan, please don’t bring your personal emotions into this. I assure you, my supervisor has been notified. As for my phone, that is my personal property. Your actions are incredibly rude.” She took a step closer, her smile fixed but her eyes burning with venom. She spoke in a low, biting whisper. “Don’t you think?” I closed my eyes, taking one last shot. “How long until your supervisor gets here?” Tina glanced at her watch, a look of mock contemplation on her face, before giving me an impossible answer. “Oh, I’d say… about three hours.” 3 “Are you kidding me? My flight is boarding right now! You’re doing this deliberately, aren’t you?!” I roared, but Tina just gave me a helpless-looking smile. “I’m sorry, Ms. Morgan, but my hands are tied. My supervisor is currently at a training conference overseas. With the time difference, he probably hasn’t even seen my message. You’ll just have to wait.” Her calm, indifferent tone was designed to drive me insane. I felt a wave of despair wash over me. I had no idea what cosmic bad luck I’d stumbled into lately, but nothing was going right. Two nights ago, I was walking home late from work when I saw a group of thugs harassing a young woman. I intervened. I’m not a fighter, but I managed to create enough of a scene to save her. In the process, I ended up with a broken arm. Then, before I was even discharged from the hospital, my boss forced this international conference on me, making me sign a do-or-die contract: land the deal, or pay the company a fortune in damages. And now this. My one chance to get there, sabotaged by a rogue TSA agent. How did this happen? I was the one who did the right thing, who saved someone. Why was I the one being punished? My mind raced, connecting the dots. Something felt deeply wrong about all this. I looked Tina dead in the eye. “I demand to speak to your supervisor’s superior. I don’t care who it is. I have to be on that flight today, no matter what.” Tina just shook her head. “Ms. Morgan, you’re just a passenger. You don’t have the right to speak directly with our upper management. The only solution is to wait for my supervisor’s approval. Otherwise, none of us can take that responsibility.” I lunged forward and grabbed her by the collar of her uniform. “When is this going to end?! What did I ever do to you to deserve this? Let me through, now!” Her eyes met mine, and a real, triumphant smile finally broke through the plastic facade. “Ms. Morgan, please calm down! Violence won’t solve anything.” Her words made me pause. I realized the security guards had closed in, forming a tight circle around me. My actions, my words… I was becoming unhinged. I was about to let her go, but she suddenly clamped her hand around my wrist, her voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. “Stella, that’s right, I am targeting you. Your little brain has probably figured that much out by now, hasn’t it?” “And I’m telling you, as long as I’m standing here, you won’t be getting on any flight today.” I stared into her vicious eyes, realizing she was deliberately pushing my buttons, trying to make me snap. “…What did you say?” Just then, the final boarding call for my flight echoed through the terminal. On pure instinct, I tried to shove her away. But she anticipated it, grabbing my arm and shouting for everyone to hear. “What are you doing? Are you trying to breach security?!” She clung to me like a leech. “Let me go!” I yelled, my voice frantic. “You’re doing this on purpose! None of you can be trusted!” I finally ripped my arm free, my blood boiling. I turned, fully intending to make a run for it, but I caught a flicker of pure anticipation in Tina’s eyes. I stopped in my tracks. It hit me like a physical blow. She wants me to lose it. In front of everyone. My outburst had drawn a huge crowd. They were whispering, filming me with their phones. Some were even live-streaming. “Look, someone’s causing trouble! Trying to force her way through security with contraband!” “Hey everyone, I’m live at the scene! You can see the standoff happening right now!” “Rumor is she has a bomb! Can’t confirm, but it’s what everyone’s saying!” In the few moments I’d been silent, the narrative had completely twisted. I was no longer the victim; I was the threat. “So that’s your game,” I hissed, glaring at Tina. This woman was dangerously manipulative. “You want me to make a scene, to get violent, so you have an excuse to detain me!” Tina put on a perfect mask of confusion. “Ms. Morgan, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I would advise you not to escalate this situation.” She and the guards formed a wall in front of me. She smiled gently. “Because if this gets any bigger, the police will get involved. And then it will be out of the airport’s hands entirely. You understand, don’t you?” I looked at the growing crowd, at the sea of phones all pointed at me, and I finally understood. This wasn’t just a random act of malice. This was an ambush. 4 My mind flashed back to the rescue. As the thugs ran off, their leader had shouted a threat over his shoulder. “You bitch! You have no idea who you just crossed! She belongs to the Young Master! You stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, and he will make you pay!” I hadn’t thought anything of his “Young Master” comment at the time. But now, it was clear. This was his revenge. And whoever this “Young Master” was, he had enough power to orchestrate this entire nightmare. I took a step back, a knot of real fear tightening in my stomach. This wasn’t some street punk. This was someone with connections, with power. This entire business trip was probably part of their trap. Seeing me hesitate, Tina’s eyes flashed with impatience. She decided to needle me again. “It’s a real shame this has happened. And according to the message my supervisor just sent, it looks like his arrival might be delayed even further.” She put on a show of sympathy, as if she were on my side. “Why don’t you just let us open up the cast? We can take a look, and then everyone can be on their way.” Before I could respond, a message from my boss lit up my phone. “What the hell is going on, Stella? Why haven’t you boarded yet?! I’m telling you, if you blow this deal, you’ll be paying us back according to the contract!” I hung up, feeling like the whole world was closing in on me. But the more they pushed, the more certain I was that this was a setup. I ignored the flood of angry texts from my boss and abandoned any hope of making my flight. To everyone’s surprise, I walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. Tina was stunned for a second, then her voice rang out. “Ms. Morgan! Just because you refuse to cooperate with our inspection doesn’t mean you can throw a tantrum and stage a sit-in!” I couldn’t believe she was twisting it again. Before I could even react, the security guards, who had clearly been waiting for their cue, swarmed me, pinning me to the ground. “What are you doing?! Let me go!” I screamed, struggling against them. One of the guards deliberately kicked my casted arm. An explosion of white-hot pain silenced me. As Tina shouted that I was assaulting her security personnel, fists rained down on me. “You… you monsters!” I choked out. The commotion drew an even larger crowd of onlookers, all of them fed the same false story. “That’s the woman who was carrying explosives! Now she’s attacking the guards!” “It’s true! I saw her grab the female agent’s uniform earlier!” “This is terrifying! Who is she? What was she planning to do on the plane?!” I spat out a mouthful of blood as the tide of public opinion turned completely against me. They dragged me back into that little black room, a gauntlet of pointing fingers and flashing cameras all the way. Thud. The door slammed shut. I gasped for breath, and as my vision cleared, I saw a man sitting in a chair, watching me. He was dressed in expensive, flashy clothes, his hair a shock of bleached blond. “…Who are you?” I managed. He smirked. “Your name is Stella Morgan, right? You know, you really should have learned to mind your own business.” “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Adrian Zhao. You ruined my plans, so now you get to deal with the Zhao family’s payback.” Seeing the deep-seated resentment in his eyes, I knew instantly. He was the one behind the thugs. This entire, elaborate trap—from the airport fiasco to the public humiliation—was all his design. He wanted me to suffer physically and be saddled with a crippling debt from my company. All because I saved that girl. “Pah!” I spat defiantly, glaring at him. “So you’re the kind of coward who hides behind cheap tricks. Who do you think you are? Even if you’re powerful, I don’t believe for a second you’d dare to kill me.” My defiance seemed to amuse him. He let out a short laugh, stood up, and walked over, grinding his shoe onto my cast. “Who am I? I’m the heir to the Zhao Corporation fortune! A worthless little insect like you? I could crush you without a second thought.” He punctuated his sentence with a sharp kick to my stomach. A wave of nausea rolled through me, and I swallowed hard against the bile rising in my throat. Tina scurried forward and knelt to wipe a speck of dust from his shoe with a tissue, which she then tossed onto my chest. “Our company is 70% owned by the Zhao Corporation, Stella. You picked a fight with the wrong people. Isn’t it time you learned some remorse?” Before she even finished speaking, the guards closed in, cracking their knuckles. My eyes widened in terror. I scrambled backward. “Stay away from me!” At that exact moment, the door was kicked off its hinges, and a furious voice roared through the room. “Stop!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384632”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My best friend called his fiancée, only to have her hang up on him. The text she sent back was cold and dismissive. “Lewis has a cold. I don’t have time.” My friend then called his own girlfriend, a superstar with connections everywhere. The reply he got was just as chilling. “Lewis’s sick. This is when he needs me the most.” After a night spent fighting for my life in the emergency room, we found ourselves in the same hospital ward, looking at each other. We spoke the words at the exact same time. “I don’t want to get married anymore.” We never expected that when the women who had abandoned us received the news, they would both lose their minds. … After a week of complete silence, my fiancée, Grace, finally called. I answered, and was immediately met with a barrage of accusations. “Liam, what the hell is wrong with you? Both our families have already agreed on the time and place for the wedding, and you just call it off? What are you trying to pull?” I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off with a torrent of self-righteous anger. “I’ve told you a million times, Lewis’s health is fragile! A simple cold can turn into a life-threatening crisis. I have to be by his side to make sure he’s safe. How can you be so petty and jealous? Don’t you have any regard for human life?!” Human life… A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Last night, I was on my way home after finalizing our wedding arrangements when a speeding truck slammed into my car. In the moments before I lost consciousness, I used every last ounce of strength to call Grace. The line went dead. She’d rejected the call. I tried again. Rejected. As my vision faded to black, my blood-smeared phone screen lit up with a notification. An impatient message from Grace. [What? Spit it out!] When I didn’t reply instantly, another one followed. [Are you sick in the head? Do you have any idea how much Lewis needs me right now? His emotional state is fragile! A breakdown could kill him!] And now, after all that, all she could do was berate me. Suddenly, my best friend, Brian, who had just walked in, snatched the phone from my hand. “Are you out of your mind, Grace?! Liam was in a car wreck last night! The driver hit him and then maliciously ran him over a second time! If they hadn’t gotten him to the hospital when they did, he’d be dead right now! Can you not tell the difference between a fucking cold and a car crash?!” A cold, dismissive laugh came from the other end. “You’re trying to pull that kind of lie on a doctor, Brian? You two really overestimate your own intelligence.” With that, she hung up. Brian stared at the phone, the veins in his hand popping as he gripped it. Almost immediately, his own phone rang. It was his fiancée, Bella—Grace’s childhood friend. “Brian, what is this game you two are playing? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Because of your childish jealousy and lies, Lewis got so agitated he nearly had a full-blown relapse!” “If Grace and I hadn’t been here, what would have happened to him? Are you blind to a living, breathing human being in crisis?! The Vance family will not let someone as vicious and cruel as you through its doors. I don’t give a damn if we get married or not!” Brian was about to unleash a string of curses, but she had already blocked his number. “I swear to God, those…” I reached out a weak hand and grabbed his arm. “Don’t, Brian. They’re not worth it.” He looked at the mess of tubes and monitors connected to me, his voice filled with concern. “Liam, does it still hurt?” I smiled and shook my head. Not anymore. The real pain had stopped the moment Grace hung up on me while I was bleeding out. To distract us, Brian put on some reality TV show. We sat there, picking at a bag of chips, making snarky comments. “Look at that guy. He’s got the face of a B-list comedian.” “This whole segment is so fake. You can practically see the script.” But soon, the laughter died in our throats. On the screen, in a haze of soft lighting and dramatic music, was Bella. The A-list celebrity. The love of Brian’s life. Brian’s face darkened. “Nope, bad juju,” he muttered, fumbling for the remote. “Changing this right now.” But Bella’s voice, thick with emotion, stopped him. It was one of those sappy, heartfelt confessionals the shows loved. She looked directly into the camera, her famous eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “My biggest regret,” she said, her voice trembling, “is not telling a certain boy how I felt all those years ago…” The other guests on the show hooted and pressed for details. Brian’s hand, holding the remote, clenched into a white-knuckled fist. I put a comforting hand on his arm, my own heart aching for him. Bella and Brian were engaged, but she refused to make it public. She claimed it would hurt her brand, affect her “relatability” with her fans. This, despite the fact that her family was so wealthy that her acting career was little more than a hobby. Whenever Brian brought it up, she would fly into a rage, accusing him of not understanding her, of not supporting her dreams. But she never saw it. She never saw how Brian would pull all-nighters for damage control whenever a negative story about her broke. She never saw how he would mobilize his own network to promote her new shows and movies. Brian once told me he knew being a star was her dream. So he was willing to use all his resources, all his strength, to lift her to the very top. But in her eyes, everything he did was just a desperate attempt to keep her, a tool in his jealous game. She was convinced that the only person in the world who truly understood her was their shared childhood friend, Lewis. Seeing the worry in my eyes, Brian forced a smile. “It’s okay, Liam. We already decided, right? We’re calling it off.” “All that’s left is to tell our parents. Then it’s over. We’ll be free.” I nodded, a heavy silence settling between us. But that night, my phone rang again. It was Grace. “Liam, why are you being so unreasonable?” she said, her voice laced with annoyance. “Lewis was sick. I was helping him as a doctor! Why do you have to twist everything into something so ugly?! And because of this petty little tantrum, you’re not even coming to the engagement dinner!” “Both our families are here. We’re all waiting for you! Liam, I’m warning you, be sensible. Don’t make me come and get you.” In the past, her cold, scolding tone would have crushed me. But now, faced with her fury, I just felt… nothing. “Grace,” I said calmly, “since I’m breaking off the engagement, there’s no reason for me to be at that dinner.” The words “breaking off” reignited her rage. “Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound right now? Is this some kind of stupid pissing contest? Liam, I never knew you could be this manipulative and childish! I’m the one calling you, giving you an out. Is it that hard to just back down?!” “Everyone is waiting! How long are you going to keep this up?! You have to be here today! Tell me where you are, I’m coming to get you right now!” I looked down at the hospital-issue blanket covering me, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. “I’m at Mercy General Hospital. Come and get me.” There were two seconds of silence, then a cold, derisive laugh. “Wow, Liam. You don’t even bother with believable lies anymore. You’d say anything just to make me grovel and beg for your forgiveness, wouldn’t you?” I closed my eyes, a bitter smile on my face. I knew it would end like this. I knew that no matter what happened to me, it would never be as important as a single hair on Lewis’s head. I knew all of this, and yet, some foolish part of me still held onto a sliver of hope. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, and I leaned over the side of the bed, vomiting into a basin. Grace, oblivious, continued her tirade, her tone as arrogant as ever. “And don’t you dare drag Brian into your little drama! He was supposed to be meeting Bella’s parents tonight to set a wedding date, and now he’s nowhere to be found! You can’t handle your own relationship, so you have to poison someone else’s? And now you’re stooping to faking a life-threatening injury? Liam, have you ever considered how truly toxic you are?! What’s next? If I give in this time, will you start self-harming to force my hand?” Yes. No matter what, she would always assume the worst. That I was the master manipulator, orchestrating everything just to prey on her non-existent sympathy. It was just like last year, at a party, when Lewis deliberately fed me something I was severely allergic to. I spiked a fever immediately, my throat closing up. I almost died. Her reaction then? She looked down at me, her face a mask of cold disdain. “Liam, the way you use these lies to get attention is absolutely disgusting. You just want to marry into my family, don’t you? You already tricked my parents into this engagement. What’s the point of this pathetic act?” In her mind, that’s all I was. A vicious, scheming man, using self-inflicted wounds to drive a wedge between her and her precious Lewis. Before, I would have argued, I would have desperately tried to explain. But now, I was just tired. So tired, I couldn’t be bothered to say another word to save us. “Grace, I’m breaking the engagement,” I said, my voice flat. “When I’m out of the hospital, I’ll explain everything to your parents myself. I’m not coming to the dinner tonight.” I hung up. I never thought she would actually show up. When she stormed into my hospital room and saw me lying in the bed, she froze, a deep frown creasing her forehead. But before she could speak, Lewis appeared behind her. He habitually looped his arm through hers, pressing his entire body against her side in a blatant act of ownership. He looked at me, his face a caricature of pity. “What’s all this? Liam, what happened to you?” “I’m so sorry, Liam. I really wasn’t feeling well that day, that’s the only reason Grace came to see me. You shouldn’t be so upset with her. Both our families are waiting for you at the hotel! You’re making things so awkward for them!” Before he could continue his cloying, manipulative speech, Grace cut him off. She looked at him, her eyes filled with a pained tenderness that she had never once shown me. “Lewis, you don’t have to say any of this to him! Liam! You are getting more and more out of line! Did you really think staging this little drama would make me submit to you? You need to apologize to Lewis right now! And you need to apologize to our parents!” “This is your last chance! Otherwise, you can forget about this wedding!” A cold laugh escaped me. “Grace, we’re done. Please take your boyfriend and get the hell out of my room.” The mention of her beloved Lewis sent her into a rage. Her hand flew up, and the sharp crack of a slap echoed in the quiet room.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384631”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I run a puppy playdate service at a local gaming lounge. I was just walking to a private booth when a girl knelt and reached out to pet my dog, a warm smile on her face. I figured she was the client, coming out to greet us early. But as I opened my mouth to say hello, a few lines of semi-transparent text drifted past my eyes. 【OMG, the female lead is so smart, using the puppy to get his attention.】 【Who knew he was a softie for dogs under that cold exterior?】 【Too bad about the dog, though. She gets it killed later.】 【Hey, if the dog doesn’t die, how does the plot move forward?】 I looked at the girl still scratching my dog’s head. Then I looked down at my sweet, oblivious pup, his tail wagging furiously. A sudden chill ran down my spine. So, I’ve barely been in this business for a week, and I’m already just a prop in some cheap romance drama? No way. This dog is not becoming a plot device. Not today. 1 The woman in the cream-colored sundress was still crouched down, her fingers tangled in my dog’s fur. Bean’s tail was a blur of happiness. The moment the floating comments registered, a single sharp command escaped my lips. “Don’t touch him.” I strode forward, scooping Bean up into my arms. He immediately snuggled against my chest, his tail thumping against my side. The woman, startled by my sudden appearance, quickly plastered a smile on her face. She reached out again. “Oh, he’s just so adorable! I was only playing with him for a second.” As she spoke, she angled her head just so, her eyes darting toward the booth next to her. She was putting on a show, managing her expression for an unseen audience. I had no time for her games. I just wanted to get past her with my dog. But just then, the door to that very booth opened, and a man stepped out, drawn by the commotion. Instantly, more text scrolled across my vision: 【It’s him! The male lead! He finally noticed her!】 【That eye contact! The chemistry is off the charts! This pairing is epic!】 I blinked. “…” Maybe I’d been working too many late nights. Was I starting to hallucinate? Real or not, I had to get my dog out of here. “Excuse me, he has an appointment.” I held Bean tight and walked directly toward the man’s booth, pointedly ignoring the woman I left behind. “Hey, I wasn’t done yet!” Just as I expected, she followed, her voice sharp with annoyance as she reached out to stop me. But the moment her eyes landed on the man in the doorway, her anger vanished, choked back down. It was replaced by an even sweeter smile, her voice softening to a gentle coo. “Wait, please. I just… I love dogs so much.” “The client who booked this playdate is waiting,” I said, offering the man a polite nod before turning to give the woman a picture-perfect, professional smile. Then, before she could react, I slipped into the booth and shut the door in her shocked face. With the door safely closed, I let out a long breath, the tension leaving my shoulders. I gently poked Bean’s fuzzy ear. “It’s okay, Bean. You’re safe now.” As if he understood, he licked my fingers and nuzzled his fluffy head into my palm. I sank onto the sofa, glancing around the empty air. The strange words were gone again. I handed the man my canvas tote bag filled with tennis balls and freeze-dried chicken. “Here are his toys and treats.” He took the bag, his fingertips brushing against the back of my hand. He didn’t say much, just pulled out a well-chewed plush toy and dangled it in front of Bean. Bean went wild, his tail wagging like a helicopter rotor as he chased the toy in circles on the carpet. The man knelt, watching the little dog spin around him. I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch into the ghost of a smile, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He was back to his cool, unreadable expression as he gently stroked Bean’s ear. Watching them, I couldn’t shake the comment I’d seen: She gets it killed later. I bit my lip, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “So, you saw what happened out there. I think Bean’s a little spooked.” “It’s his first time doing a playdate session, and I’m a bit worried. Would it be okay if I stayed here with him for a while?” The man looked at Bean, who was now gleefully romping around the room, and nodded without much hesitation. “Sure.” Relieved, I found a single armchair not too far from him and sat down. For the rest of the hour, the man just played with the dog, his expression never changing. Who plays with a puppy with a face like that? I wondered. And just as I had the thought, the damn comments reappeared. 【What is this dog owner’s deal? Forcing her way into the male lead’s room and trying to make our girl look bad.】 【Seriously! Our girl is the cutest, everyone loves her. It was obviously just a misunderstanding!】 I rubbed my eyes, confirming I wasn’t dreaming. So, it wasn’t my vision. The world itself had gone insane. If the woman outside was the “female lead” and this guy was the “male lead,” then what did that make the little dog currently chewing a treat at my feet? A plot device? A furry tool to drive their romance forward? I looked down at Bean, now trying to cuddle up to the man’s leg, his tail thumping a happy rhythm against the floor. He had no idea he’d been cast in someone else’s bizarre story. I sighed. It seemed my little guy and I had been dragged into a setup. He let out a contented little snuffle, blissfully unaware. My eyes flickered toward the door, my resolve hardening. The second this gig is over, we’re packing up and getting out of here. He can have his leading lady. Nobody is touching my dog. 2 After that day at the gaming lounge, I took Bean home and things went back to normal. Every evening, I’d walk him around our apartment complex. The strange, floating comments never reappeared. Life was quiet. I was starting to convince myself that the whole bizarre experience had just been a bad dream. Today was just another one of those walks. Bean was trotting happily ahead of me when he suddenly stopped by a patch of grass, his back legs dipping into a familiar squat. I knew the drill. I pulled a waste bag from my pocket and turned my back to give him some privacy. Once he was done, I tied a knot in the bag, tossed it into a nearby bin, and called him over. “Mission accomplished! Time for chicken treats at home!” He trotted back, tail wagging, but just as we were about to head back, the damn words reappeared out of nowhere. 【High-impact scene coming up! The main couple’s romance is finally about to take off!】 【Someone with no soul is about to hurt the puppy, and the female lead is going to swoop in like a total badass! Death to all animal abusers!】 【She’s so kind! This move will definitely make the male lead remember her!】 My feet froze. The female lead was back. I scanned the area, wondering which unlucky person she had her sights on this time. The walking path was dotted with other dog owners, all with their pets safely on leashes. Everything looked perfectly peaceful. Who was going to hurt a dog? As I stood there, confused, a sudden, powerful tug on the leash nearly yanked my arm out of its socket. I looked down to see Bean bolting forward, pulling with all his might. He’d spotted his best friend, a border collie, and the two were already barking greetings from across the lawn. “Bean! Stop!” I yelled, gripping the leash, but he was too excited, his paws scrambling for purchase on the pavement. He was dragging me along now. The collie’s owner was shouting at her dog, too. The two furballs collided in a whirlwind of happy yaps and spinning circles. Thankfully, Bean finally skidded to a halt before he could drag my old bones any further. I leaned over, hands on my knees, panting until my breath returned. I glared down at the little traitor, who was now panting happily, his tongue lolling out, wagging his tail as if nothing had happened. A wave of frustration washed over me, and I gave his rump a light, harmless pat. “Bean! Are you trying to give your mother a heart attack? If only you put that much energy into losing weight!” “You okay?” The collie’s owner walked over, a look of concern on her face. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I waved her off, my eyes still fixed on the two dogs, who were now sniffing each other intently. “No treats for you tonight!” The two of us stood there chatting about the new vet clinic that had just opened up in the neighborhood. Suddenly, a shrill voice cut through the evening air from behind us. “How could you abuse your dog!” I jumped, spinning around. There she was, the female lead, standing a few feet away, her face a mask of righteous fury. At the exact same time, the comments exploded across my vision: 【Here we go! The dog abuser has appeared!】 【Get her, girl! The male lead is watching!】 【Teach that abuser a lesson she’ll never forget!】 I stared. “…” Oh. So I was the unlucky one. “Me?” I pointed at my own nose, utterly bewildered. “I’m abusing my dog?” The border collie’s owner was just as confused. “What’s going on?” she whispered to me. While we exchanged baffled looks, a small crowd of neighbors started to gather, drawn by the commotion. “What’s happening?” someone asked. “Did someone hurt a dog?” And right on cue, the comments began their frantic scroll: 【Yes, girl! Stand up to people like that!】 【That’s horrible, hitting such a cute dog!】 【Look, the male lead sees you! He sees you defending justice! You’re beautiful and kind!】 I followed the comments’ invisible line of sight and, sure enough, there he was. The man from the gaming lounge. He was standing in the crowd, watching the scene unfold with a surprised look on his face. Clearly, this little drama was as unexpected for him as it was for me. 3 Seeing a crowd gather, the woman—Carol, I’d eventually learn her name was—stood up even straighter, as if fueled by their attention. “I saw it with my own eyes!” she declared, pointing a finger at Bean, who was now huddled by my leg. “You raised your hand and you hit his backside! What is that if not abuse?” Her eyes blazed with the thrill of a crusader. “Someone like you who doesn’t care about animals doesn’t deserve a dog! You’ll be the death of him!” Bean, sensing the tension, pressed closer against me. I bent down to stroke his head, and when I looked up again, my confusion had hardened into a cold anger. That little tap on his butt counted as “abuse” in her world? Were these floating comments filtered through some kind of delusion that erased basic common sense? “His mom takes such good care of him,” a voice from the crowd piped up. It was Mrs. Gable, a neighbor I often saw on our walks. “She’s out here with him every single day. When Bean got sick last month, she rushed him to the emergency vet in the middle of the night. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Most of the dog owners in our complex knew each other. We all had a pretty good sense of who treated their pets well. But the comments in my vision were having none of it: 【What is wrong with these people? Covering for an abuser? Is this whole neighborhood full of animal haters?】 【Right? Anyone defending her is just as guilty! Ignore them, girl!】 The sheer, twisted logic of it all made me want to laugh. I looked at Carol, whose face was growing paler by the second. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that I was abusing my dog.” “If you’re talking about the light pat I gave his rear end,” I said, emphasizing the word “light,” “then I really don’t know what to tell you.” “And as for why I did it, you clearly didn’t see what happened just before, did you?” “That’s right,” the collie’s owner chimed in, pointing to the two dogs at her feet. “Bean got overexcited when he saw my dog and bolted. He nearly pulled his owner right off her feet!” “She was just startled and trying to get him to calm down. It wasn’t abuse.” A murmur of agreement went through the crowd. “Yeah, that’s nothing. You have to correct a dog when it lunges like that, or someone could get hurt.” “Seriously. My golden retriever chased a squirrel once and pulled so hard I sprained my ankle. He got more than a light tap on the head for that.” “Besides,” someone else added with a chuckle, “the way she tapped him, his own tail probably hits her leg harder than that.” A few people laughed. Carol had clearly not expected this. The scenario she’d imagined—a heroic rescue where she was lauded by the public for standing up to an abuser—had completely imploded. Instead, she found herself on the receiving end of a collective, gentle rebuke. Her face flushed, then went pale, her carefully constructed expression crumbling. A flash of pure rage crossed her eyes. This wasn’t in the script, and she was starting to panic. I took half a step back, pulling Bean with me, trying to avoid her venomous glare. 【Male lead, do something! Help her! She’s being attacked by all these villains!】 【My heart breaks for her. She was just trying to do the right thing and now she’s the one getting yelled at?】 I stared at the black-and-white insanity of the comments, wanting to roll my eyes into the back of my head. How could these “viewers” lack such a basic grasp of right and wrong? “She is an abuser!” Carol finally shrieked, cornered and desperate. “And all of you, defending her—you’re all abusers, too!” “Hey, watch your mouth, young lady!” Mrs. Gable snapped, her patience gone. “This was a simple misunderstanding. We were just telling you what actually happened. That doesn’t make us abusers.” “Yeah, for someone so young, you’ve got a nasty tongue on you,” another man grumbled, frowning. Just as the scene was about to spiral completely out of control, a calm voice cut in. “Carol, that’s enough.” I looked up. The man from the gaming lounge had made his way through the crowd. He was frowning at Carol, his disapproval clear. “You’re making things up. That’s not what happened, and you’re being unfair to everyone.” Carol looked as if he’d slapped her. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. “I was doing it for you!” she cried, her voice cracking. “You love dogs so much, I was just trying to help!” Tears streamed down her face as she played the part of the deeply wronged victim. The neighbors, sensing this was a private argument now, started to back away, though they still watched from a distance. I watched this train wreck of a drama unfold, my eyes flicking to the frantic scrolling of the comments: 【What is happening? The male lead is yelling at her? But she did it all for him!】 【This guy is trash. He’s blind and can’t even tell right from wrong! He’d better be ready to grovel, and I hope she never takes him back!】 【Suddenly the second male lead is looking a lot better. Run, girl, run!】 I fought the urge to groan. What did Bean and I do to deserve being dragged into this mess? But watching them, I had a sinking feeling their drama was far from over. And my innocent little dog, somehow, was stuck right in the middle of it. I looked down at Bean and sighed. Looks like I’m going to have to be extra careful from now on. 4 I couldn’t believe it. The male and female leads from this bizarre, invisible drama lived in my apartment complex. Great. Now there was nowhere to hide. I couldn’t just stop walking my dog to avoid them. So, I switched our schedule to the dead of night. The complex was silent, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the wind. “Okay, Bean, be quiet,” I whispered, clutching his leash as we tiptoed downstairs. The little guy was vibrating with excitement, his tail wagging like crazy. We had just reached a fork in the path near the community garden when I saw a figure standing under a lamppost ahead. The person turned. The warm, yellow light illuminated his face. It was the man from the drama. Thomas. Bean let out a soft “woof,” and he paused, waiting for us to approach. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his gaze shifting from Bean to me. “I haven’t seen you walking him lately. I figured you might be avoiding us.” He looked genuinely regretful. “What Carol did the other day, accusing you like that… it was completely out of line. I wanted to find you and apologize.” “Oh, uh, it’s fine. Really,” I said quickly, taking a small step back with Bean. “It was her thing, it has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to apologize.” Honestly, all I wanted was to end this conversation and disappear into the night. But he persisted. “No, she was doing it because of me. She was targeting you and your dog because of me. So, ultimately, it’s my fault. I have to apologize.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just offered a tight smile. After a few seconds of awkward silence, I couldn’t help myself. “You know, maybe you and Carol should sit down and have a real talk?” I suggested, trying to sound casual. “Sometimes, when things are left unsaid, it just creates more misunderstandings. This can’t be good for either of you.” It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Carol was obsessed with him. As for Thomas, he seemed like a decent guy, but who knew if he’d ever been clear with her. He seemed surprised by my suggestion. He thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You’re right. We do need to talk.” He looked at me again. “I’m sorry again for all the trouble. It won’t happen again.” “It’s okay. Well, we should get on with our walk.” I turned to leave with Bean. I really hope it won’t happen again, I thought. Otherwise, I’m seriously considering moving. “It’s pretty dark out,” Thomas called after me. “Mind if I walk with you?” I agreed. The moment I did, Bean trotted over to Thomas’s side, wagging his tail and rubbing his head against his leg. Thomas bent down to scratch his ears. “Why did you stop listing him for the playdate service?” It took me a second to realize what he was talking about. “Oh, uh, just been busy lately,” I lied. He looked a little sheepish. “I kind of miss him.” I couldn’t blame him. My dog was pretty charming. “Well, if you ever want to see him, you can just join us on our walks.” And so, we fell into a routine. Every evening, Thomas would be waiting downstairs, sometimes with a little treat for Bean. The three of us would walk together. Bean would dart back and forth between us, dropping his ball at my feet one moment, then flopping down on Thomas’s shoes the next. It was clear he really, really liked him. One evening, I finally asked the question that had been on my mind. “So what’s the deal with that girl, Carol?” Thomas’s expression immediately soured. He sighed. “I have no idea. She just started acting this way recently. I’ve told her, very clearly, that I’m not interested, but she keeps saying we’re ‘destined’ to be together. And then she does these… bizarre things. It’s honestly starting to scare me.” “Did she just suddenly start acting like this?” I asked, a thought forming in my mind. He confirmed that she had. A wild theory began to take shape. She said they were ‘destined.’ Could she also know about the ‘script’? A cool breeze rustled the trees, and I watched Thomas as he knelt to play with Bean. Then another, even stranger question hit me. I could only see those floating comments when Carol was around. They were always there, dictating the plot. But Thomas, the supposed male lead of this story, seemed completely oblivious to them. What was the connection between Carol and those comments?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384630”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The moment a shared account notification for a high-end baby stroller popped up on my phone, I quit my seven-figure job without a second thought. I packed my bags, flew home from London, and prepared to start a family with the husband I hadn’t lived with for ten years. I knew this was another one of his hints. For the past decade, I’d always used my demanding career as an excuse, telling him I wasn’t ready for children. But deep down, the guilt was eating me alive. Guilt for leaving him alone in our New York brownstone while I chased a paycheck overseas. Guilt for prioritizing my ambition over the family we were supposed to build. But when I stood at our front door, gifts in hand, ready to give him the surprise of his life, I wasn’t met with the tearful, joyful embrace I’d imagined. Instead, I was greeted by a young boy and a woman with a swollen, pregnant belly. 1 The boy was laughing, running full tilt toward the woman, and was about to collide with her when my husband, George, rushed out from inside. He threw his arms out, stopping the reckless child just in time. “Leo, you’re about to be a big brother! You can’t be so careless. What if you’d hurt your mommy and the baby?” The boy made a funny face, grinning. “But I want a little sister.” George ruffled the boy’s hair, the adoration in his eyes practically overflowing. His parents followed him out, pulling the boy aside to scold him gently. “You can’t do that anymore. You could have really hurt her.” I watched this happy, harmonious family scene, and the cold, hard truth finally dawned on me. They all knew. They were all in on this perfect little life, and I was the only one who had been left in the dark. But… every time I came home, he was as passionate as a newlywed. He would hold me until dawn, his touch desperate and loving. Because of that, even after eight years without a child, I never doubted him. I never once questioned his love for me. Before I boarded the plane, I’d texted him that I had a surprise, and he’d replied, “Can’t wait.” It had only been a few hours. How had everything changed so completely? I looked at George. His eyes scanned my face, a flicker of panic in their depths, before finally landing on the gift box I was still clutching. His voice was raspy, a barely audible whisper. “What are you doing back?” When he saw my gaze fixed on the pregnant woman beside him, he quickly dropped the hand that had been resting on her waist. Suddenly, a thousand ignored details from the past eight years exploded in my mind. The way he’d always cut our video calls short, blaming a “bad signal.” The gifts I’d sent home, always returned with the excuse that the “storage is full.” The way he’d talked me out of taking a vacation to come home last month, claiming he was “too swamped at work.” “A surprise,” I said, the words catching in my throat, dry and rough like sandpaper. I forced a smile. “Weren’t you excited?” The woman beside him took half a step forward, subtly positioning herself in front of him, as if to protect him. “Excuse me, do we know you?” I ignored her, my eyes still glued to George’s face. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” George snapped out of his trance, forcing a weak smile. “This is Amber. The children’s mother.” Then he pointed at me, and his voice faltered. I didn’t give him a chance to lie. I held out my hand. “I’m Chloe. George’s wife.” Amber didn’t move. My outstretched hand hung awkwardly in the air. The color drained from George’s face. He tugged on Amber’s sleeve. “Mom, Dad, why don’t you take Leo home for now?” Amber gave me a look loaded with meaning as George’s parents quickly ushered the boy away, half-coaxing, half-dragging him out the door. The moment they were gone, George’s expression transformed. His eyes were red, his face a mask of wounded betrayal. “Why did you come back like this? Are you checking up on me?” I stood my ground, my voice steady despite the tremor in my soul. “I quit my job.” George’s head shot up. “What?” I knew what he was thinking. My salary in London was more than enough to support his entire family in lavish comfort. But I had walked away from it all. Years of building my career overseas, gone. I’d be starting from scratch back home. He had grown accustomed to the easy, luxurious life my money provided. The thought of falling from that paradise must have been terrifying. “You always said I didn’t spend enough time with you,” I said, my voice flat. “So I quit. I gave up everything in London so we could finally be together and build a real life.” “I wanted to tell you in person, so I came straight from the airport with your gifts.” George’s eyes finally seemed to register the pile of luggage and shopping bags at my feet. I had rushed here, not even stopping for a sip of water, my clothes damp with sweat from the journey. He called for the housekeeper, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “Please help take these bags inside and show… Miss Chloe to the guest room.” Then he turned back to me. “I have to take Amber to her check-up. Just tell the housekeeper what you want for dinner.” And with that, he led Amber away, as if this whole devastating scene had never happened. As if he owed me, his actual wife, no explanation at all. I watched them go, a painful lump forming in my throat. This was my brownstone. He was my husband. Those were my in-laws. But now, in my own home, I was being shown to the guest room. I was an intruder. A stranger who had forced her way into their perfect life. I couldn’t help but wonder… if our child had survived all those years ago, would we have had a life this happy? Would the three of us have been a family, just like them? 2 Years ago, getting married to George had been a dream. From meeting his parents to the engagement party, they had always looked at me with such approval, bragging to everyone about how smart and capable their son’s new wife was. I remember the first time I visited their home, George’s mother held my hands and gushed, “Chloe, you’re like the daughter we never had. We’ll treasure you.” Back then, George was always by my side. He said he loved peace and quiet, so I took all my savings and bought this brownstone, a multi-million-dollar property in the heart of the city. He was ecstatic, promising to decorate it exactly the way I wanted. I didn’t have strong opinions, so I let him take the lead. He threw himself into the project, choosing deep blue curtains because they were my favorite, insisting on a durable grey sofa, and even picking the wedding photo for the wall where he said I had the goofiest, happiest smile. “This is our home now,” he’d said, his hand resting on the picture frame, his eyes shining. “As soon as you’re settled in London, I’ll come join you.” But when I finally secured my permanent contract, he changed his tune. “My parents are getting older, Chloe. There’ll be no one to look after them if I leave.” “Besides, I just got promoted to department head. It would be a waste to quit now. Just wait a little longer. I’ll come as soon as I finish this project.” And I believed him. I thought that distance was no match for love, that as long as our hearts were connected, we could overcome anything. I worked myself to the bone, sending most of my salary home to him. For his parents, for him, for our future. He’d always text back, “It’s more than enough,” but then a package would arrive with my favorite cured sausages from a local deli, with a note saying, “Don’t neglect yourself over there.” Thinking back, I realize now he probably didn’t make those sausages himself. Just like the “bad signal” on our video calls was probably to hide the sound of a crying baby. The returned gifts weren’t because “storage was full,” but because he couldn’t risk another woman seeing them. And every time he’d texted, “I miss you,” the urgency in his tone wasn’t born from longing, but from the need to hide a lie. I stood in the living room of my own home, staring at the family portrait hanging on the wall. George was leaning toward Amber, and Leo sat between them. All three of them were smiling, a perfect, happy family. The picture was in a frame I’d sent him for his birthday last year. At the time, he’d told me it was “too expensive, too precious to use.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to use it. He just didn’t want my gift displayed in their home. Footsteps echoed on the stairs. George’s mother came down, holding a platter of fruit and forcing a smile. “Chloe, have some fruit. These are all your old favorites.” I didn’t move. I looked her straight in the eye. “Leo… is he George’s son?” It wasn’t that I couldn’t guess the obvious answer. Perhaps I was just too weak, too unwilling to believe that every beautiful memory I held dear was nothing more than a carefully constructed lie, a performance put on by his entire family. Her hand trembled, and a few grapes rolled onto the floor. She bent down to pick them up, her voice muffled. “The children… they’re very well-behaved…” I closed my eyes, a sharp pain seizing my heart. “He’s seven years old.” “That means he was born the year after I left for London.” She froze, and when she looked up at me, the panic in her eyes was impossible to hide. “Chloe, let me explain…” “Explain what?” I laughed, a tight, humorless sound. “Explain how your whole family lied to me for eight years, watching me send my hard-earned money home like a fool to raise another woman’s husband and children? Or explain who he was thinking of every time I came home and he held me in his arms and told me he loved me?” George’s father came out of his study and pulled his wife behind him, his face stern. “Chloe, there’s no point in saying all this now. It’s clear George can’t continue this marriage with you. You two… should get a divorce.” “A divorce?” I repeated the word, my mind flashing back to our wedding day eight years ago. His father had stood before me then, too, but with a smile, saying, “My son will take good care of you.” Eight years. How could a heart change so quickly? “Amber was George’s high school classmate,” his father said, sighing with a strange sort of sympathy. “After you went abroad, George was very lonely, and he went through a lot. Amber was the one who took care of him. They… they couldn’t help it.” Couldn’t help it? And what about me? The hardships I endured, the sleepless nights I worked, the endless days I spent yearning to come home—what did all of that count for? I grabbed a fruit knife from the table. I didn’t want to hurt anyone; I just needed something solid to hold onto. The cold steel did little to quell the fire raging inside me. Just then, the sound of a car engine came from the driveway. George and Amber were back. 3 They walked into the living room and saw the knife in my hand. Amber’s face went white. “Chloe, what are you doing?” George immediately stepped in front of her, his brow furrowed. “We can talk this out calmly. Don’t scare Amber.” “Scare her?” I looked at her swollen belly, and the scene before me felt like a surreal nightmare. “Don’t you think I’m the one who should be scared?” “George, tell me,” I said, my voice shaking. “In these past eight years, was there ever a single moment you felt even a flicker of guilt?” He bit his lip, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m sorry…” “Sorry? That’s it?” I slammed the knife down on the coffee table with a deafening clatter. “I quit my job, I threw away my future, all to come back and build a home with you! But you’ve already been building a home with someone else for eight years! George, what do you take me for?” Leo came running down the stairs, saw the knife, and burst into tears, throwing himself into his father’s arms and crying, “Daddy!” George held the boy, his back to me, patting his back gently, his own shoulders trembling. Amber walked over and held out a document. “As they say, the one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. This is a divorce agreement, Chloe. Let’s just end this amicably.” I didn’t look at the papers. I just stared at George’s back. He never turned around. So all those passionate nights that felt like a second honeymoon were just an act. That text message, “Can’t wait,” was probably meant for Amber and sent to me by mistake. I had been a clown, performing in his twisted play for eight years, only to find out I’d been written out of the script long ago. The gift box in my hand had fallen to the floor at some point. A handcrafted bracelet I’d found at a remote mountain monastery—a charm for good fortune—had spilled out, its beads glinting coldly in the afternoon light. I heard the sound of paper ripping, followed by a sharp gasp that sounded like a slap. Then came George’s anguished cry. “Who said anything about a divorce?! When did it become your place to make decisions in this house?!” He screamed my name, his voice choked with sobs. I turned in a daze and walked toward the door, leaving the wreckage of their lives behind me. Some debts can’t be paid with a simple “I’m sorry.” And some homes, once shattered, can never be put back together again. 4 I went to my mother’s house. I’d been away for so long, and the rare times I came back, I spent them with George. My parents were understanding, always telling me to spend my limited time with my husband. Looking at the new silver strands in their hair, I was struck by the sudden realization of how neglectful I’d been. I had poured all my money, my love, and my energy into George and my career, barely sparing a thought for my own parents. I tried to compose myself, to act like nothing was wrong. But my mother saw through it instantly. “Did you and George have a fight? You’ve been away for so long, you shouldn’t be fighting the moment you get back.” She sighed. “Men have their pride. Don’t be too hard on him. He’s been waiting for you all these years; it hasn’t been easy for him either.” My father came out of the kitchen, taking off his apron. “Alright, that’s enough. Our daughter just got home. Let’s have a nice meal, let her get some rest. Whatever it is, it can wait.” “She’s tired and hungry. Don’t badger her.” Hearing my parents’ gentle words, I could no longer hold back the dam of emotions. As I served myself more rice, tears began to fall, one after another, splashing onto the table. The rest of the meal was silent. My parents didn’t ask any more questions; they just kept putting more food on my plate. That night, lying in my childhood bed, I could hear them talking in the next room through the thin walls. “Tomorrow, go buy some of her favorite snacks. Good food always makes people feel better.” “I’ll go talk to George. All couples fight. It’s nothing serious.” I pulled the covers over my head and cried silently. If George had just told me he didn’t love me anymore, I would have let him go. I’m not the kind of person to cling. But he said nothing. He and his parents just built another family, in my house, right under my nose. I tossed and turned, finally drifting off to sleep at some unknown hour. The next morning, I was woken by the sound of cheerful laughter from the living room. I sat up, groggy, and thought I heard George’s voice. Without even stopping to change, I threw open my bedroom door. There, sitting in my parents’ living room, were George, Amber, and their son. How dare he. How dare he bring his mistress and his illegitimate child here, parading them in front of my parents. My chest tightened, and I struggled to breathe. Before I could speak, George jumped in, explaining smoothly, “You’re awake! We were just saying, Amber’s due any day now. If we hurry up and have one of our own, our kids could grow up together. It’d be perfect, since we all know each other so well.” He had the audacity to wink at me. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What could I say? Could I deny it all? Could I tell my parents that Leo wasn’t just Amber’s son, but my husband’s son, too? Could I tell them George had been cheating on me since our second year of marriage? Could I… I had to hand it to him. George knew me perfectly. He had me completely trapped. I looked around the room. Everyone was smiling, laughing, a perfect picture of familial bliss. Only I was on the outside, separated from them by an invisible wall. The happiness was theirs. I had nothing. Amber was smiling at my parents. “Chloe has always been so busy with work, traveling everywhere. George and I have already agreed, when Chloe has her baby, I’ll be there to help her out every step of the way. You two have nothing to worry about.” I looked at the veiled triumph in her eyes and suddenly felt exhausted. If the rest of my life was going to be this pathetic act, I’d rather end it now. I took a deep breath. “I don’t think our families will be joined like that. After all, the two children are…” Just as the words were about to leave my lips, George shot up from the sofa and grabbed my arm, yanking me toward the door. “Chloe, didn’t you say you were taking Amber to her check-up? We’re going to be late. Mom, Dad, we’ll be back soon. You guys chat.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384629”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My hearing isn’t great. So when the campus heartthrob asked me to run an errand for him, I thought he asked me to make out with him. When he asked me to get his lunch, I thought he was asking me to be his girl. And just like that, we stumbled into a relationship. Then, one night, I found him at a bar, playing cards with his “best girl friend.” I overheard him laugh and say: “Dating a deaf girl is a special kind of hell.” I wasn’t about to let that slide. I pushed the door open, walked right up to him, and asked— “Where did you say I could pick up those four free male strippers?” He completely lost his mind. But I really didn’t hear him! Where do I pick them up? If I’m late, they’ll all be gone! 1 The moment I stepped through the door, the whole private room went silent. Annie slid off Jaxon’s lap, tugging down her tight bodycon skirt as she playfully punched his chest, her face flushed. “I thought you said this was just a guys’ night? Why’d you bring a girl?” “Leah, don’t get the wrong idea! We just lost a bet, a little grinding, that’s all. It’s not like we did anything. We’re all just bros, you know? Totally platonic.” “Ugh, girls are so much drama… Jaxon, aren’t you going to say something to your girlfriend?” The guy on the sofa barely glanced up, his eyes cold and distant as if my very presence was an annoyance. So I gathered my courage, walked straight up to him, and said his name. “Jaxon.” My voice trembled a little, but I had to know. I needed an answer. “I didn’t quite hear you before.” “Where did you say I could get those four free male strippers?” 2 “…” “I said, ‘Dating a deaf girl is a special kind of hell!’ What did you mishear this time, Leah?!” he roared, his voice cracking with fury. “You dare even think about male strippers?” The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush bone. Jaxon glared at me, his eyes sharp as daggers. He had a personality like a lit match—a short fuse and an explosive temper. He’d start rattling off words so fast I couldn’t catch a single one. Trapped in the crossfire, I mumbled meekly, “I really didn’t hear where… If I’m too late, they’ll be gone…” Jaxon’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line, his expression turning thunderous. Annie bounced over with a saccharine smile, trying to smooth things over. “Leah, we were just messing around. Don’t take it so seriously.” “I know you’re probably just on edge. Happens when you’re desperate for a man’s attention.” “…You know so much, Leah. Unlike innocent girls like us, who’ve never even held a boy’s hand.” “I know you’re broke. Here’s fifty bucks. Go buy yourself some new underwear.” “Yours is so worn down to a single thread that when you bend over, your ass practically screams ‘Open for business.’ Seriously, aren’t you cold? A girl’s got to have some self-respect!” Annie froze for three solid seconds, her face turning the color of a beet before she covered her mouth and ran out of the room. The party was full of Jaxon’s childhood friends, a pack of about seven or eight guys, all watching the show. His ego was shattered. He started cursing, shoving me towards the door. “Leah, what the hell is wrong with you? Your ears don’t work, so your mouth just makes up crap? Get back to campus, now!” “Who I drink with and what games I play are none of your business! Don’t think being my girlfriend gives you any special rights!” Once we were outside the bar, Jaxon found a quieter spot to talk. A smug smirk played on his lips. “Leah. You were jealous back there, weren’t you?” “You’ve been ignoring my texts, dodging my calls, never at your dorm when I wait for you. What’s with the silent treatment?” “All it took was me messing with some random girl to get you all fired up, rushing in to claim your territory. Male strippers? Please. When you’ve got a guy who looks like me, you’re not looking at anyone else.” When it’s quiet, my hearing is better. The misinterpretations aren’t as bad. I lowered my head, suddenly shy, as if he’d seen right through me. The truth was, I hadn’t wanted anything to do with Jaxon lately. Because I’d finally realized something. After two years with him, I had managed to save up over a hundred thousand dollars and even invested in a small business. He had served his purpose. Tonight was a complete accident. I was here with my roommates to celebrate the grand opening of my new shop, and he just happened to be having a party at the same bar. Did they really think I’d go easy on him? Jaxon lit a cigarette, pulling out a credit card and handing it to me. “Let me guess, those roommates of yours dragged you here? You should hang out with them less. They dress like they’re working a street corner every day. They’re no better than Annie.” “Pay the tab and get back to your dorm.” I nodded obediently, clutched the card, and stood on my toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. The corner of his mouth twitched, fighting a smile. He was so pleased with himself he didn’t even notice he was trying to light the filter end of his cigarette. The second I turned around, I whipped out my phone and texted my roommates. Order the most expensive bottle. The walking wallet is here to pay for it all! 3 I learned a lesson very early in life: never be a fool for love like my mother. She spent her entire life devoted to a deadbeat man who drank, gambled, and cheated. He was the man who hit his own daughter so hard he shattered her hearing for good, and still, she forgave him, time and time again. On her deathbed, she refused to buy painkillers for herself, choosing instead to leave the hospital to make him one last meal… I would rather be a bad woman than a stupid one. … When I first got to college, I was dirt poor. Even with student loans, I could barely afford ramen noodles. I only survived because my roommates would secretly sneak chicken into my bowl when I wasn’t looking. A girl who claws her way out of a place like that has nothing left but her own grit. One night, starving and desperate, I met Jaxon. It was in a massive elective course open to the whole university. He and his friends were in the back row, playing games on their phones. They’d ordered milk tea but were too lazy to go pick it up, so they were looking for someone to run the errand. Jaxon offered me fifty bucks. I told him it wasn’t enough. Five hundred. I hesitated. Losing patience, he just transferred me five thousand. So, I leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. He wanted an errand boy. I heard that he wanted a kiss. 4 Looking back, we were both pretty happy with that little misunderstanding. I used the money to treat my entire dorm to a massive pizza feast. We all ate until we couldn’t move. As for him? He wasn’t as handsome as the top academic students, or as rich as the trust-fund kids, and his basketball skills were average at best. But with just a few words, he’d apparently charmed a girl so completely that she kissed him on the spot. His friends crowned him the new campus king. He was on top of the world. … The second time we met was in the dining hall. I was just trying to get a whiff of the food before leaving. As I turned, I saw him standing there, watching me with a strange look in his eyes. “You’ve been hovering for ten minutes. If you want to talk to me, just come over. Stop pretending.” “You even followed me to my major’s class. What, you’ve never chased a guy before? Never even been in a relationship?” He tossed a card at me. “Take this. You’ll be getting my meals from now on.” My hearing was permanently damaged by my father. It was nerve damage; even a hearing aid wouldn’t help much. I always misheard things. And in a chaotic place like the dining hall, it was even worse. The card had a two-thousand-dollar balance on it—enough to feed me for four whole semesters. So, in my mind, what Jaxon had really said was: Take this. From now on, you’re all mine. 5 Honestly, Jaxon was easy to win over. Praise his genius for solving a calculus problem. Scream his name when he makes a basket. Follow him around like a devoted puppy, then suddenly disappear one day, only for him to find you suffering alone in the rain, breaking his heart… Psychology 101 says that for an arrogant, hot-headed personality like his, all you have to do is stroke his ego, act a little naive, and be completely obedient. You can get anything you want. … Back in my dorm late that night, a roommate showed me Annie’s latest Instagram story. Some drunk puppy insisted on walking me home. Is he planning on sticking to me for life? Help, I still have to get married someday! The photo was of Jaxon’s large hand intertwined with Annie’s, their fingers locked together. My roommate’s phone screen practically glowed with her outrage. She asked if I was really okay with this. I just shook my head calmly. I always knew about Annie, Jaxon’s “best girl friend.” Long, dark hair, a delicate face—she looked like the picture of innocence, but she insisted on acting like one of the guys, only ever hanging out with them. She never accepted gifts, swore off dating within the friend group, and insisted on splitting the bill for everything, down to a cup of coffee, just to prove she wasn’t taking advantage of her “bros.” Before Jaxon and I were official, she used to joke about fighting him for me. After we got together, she started slipping her own underwear into his backpack to mark her territory. Used underwear. I almost threw up when I found it. All I wanted was to secretly do his homework for him, sweet-talk him into a good mood, and make a little extra cash. What did I do to deserve this? Crying, I carried the backpack to his classroom. Jaxon and his friends were scrolling through photos on their phones, chatting casually. “Yeah, Annie’s definitely not a virgin.” “How long have I known her? You think I don’t know what that girl is up to? ‘Just bros.’ Please, she can drop the act.” “I was just using her to practice a few things. We even split the cost of the morning-after pills. A woman’s purity is the most important thing she has. When I get married, it’ll be to someone from a good family, a virgin. At worst, I’ve got a clean, loyal backup like Leah.” He looked up and saw me, and they immediately changed the subject, asking if I wanted to grab dinner at that old-school, clean diner off-campus. They thought I couldn’t hear them. But in a quiet room, I can hear just fine. I heard everything. So you see, why would I bother fighting with Annie? We were both just trying to please the same piece of trash. I held his hand and played the part of his innocent girlfriend, and the balance in my bank account kept growing. Annie schemed and pretended, only to end up having to split the cost of her own birth control. She was far more pathetic than I was. 6 Jaxon’s parents ran a small import-export business. He wasn’t exactly rolling in generational wealth. I’d been keeping track of his credit card limits every time I used them, which confirmed my theory. Getting over a hundred grand out of him was probably reaching the max. Now, all I had to do was figure out how to break up with him peacefully. But I didn’t have to worry about it for long. Someone else was more desperate than I was. Annie disappeared. … It poured rain on my 22nd birthday. I stood under an umbrella outside a fancy restaurant, waiting for Jaxon. Couples holding hands and whispering sweet nothings walked past me, one after another, until I was the only one left, standing alone in the cold. I waited from eight o’clock until well after eleven. He finally showed up. No apology, just his eyes glued to his phone as he texted furiously. “Something came up, I’m late,” he said dismissively. “Just got back from the countryside with some of the guys. We can’t get a hold of Annie.” “The dorm manager won’t let you in? Did you try talking to her?” Jaxon looked up from his phone, exasperated. “God, your hearing. Fine, fine, let’s go up. Happy birthday. I didn’t have time to get you a gift today.” “I’ve given you enough over the past two years. You should be set.” “How did you know I made you a cherry cream roll cake?” I pulled the cake box out from behind my back, holding it out to him with both hands. The fresh scratches and burns on my hands from baking made him frown instinctively. “You mentioned liking them in a post the other day. So I made one for you!” I said with a bright smile. “Just having you here to celebrate with me is the best gift ever.” Just last week, Jaxon had posted something cryptic: Someone special is mad at me. Looks like it’s going to take a cherry cream roll cake to fix it. That post was still pinned at the top of his profile. So hard to guess who that was about. “Leah.” Jaxon said my name suddenly, his voice rough. “You’re such an idiot, you know that?” He pulled me into his arms, kissing my forehead gently before stuffing his phone into his pocket. “Let’s go up first. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We’ll celebrate your birthday another day. Anything you want, I’ll buy it for you, okay?” We stepped into the elevator. Then, as if by some cruel twist of fate, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his face went rigid. May you have a life of peace and happiness. Goodbye. It was from Annie. The moment the elevator doors slid open, Jaxon looked at me, his eyes filled with conflict. Finally, he pried my fingers from his sleeve. “Leah, you… just get something to eat by yourself, then head back, okay?” “I have to go. It’s important.” “Oh, here.” He pulled a thick wad of cash from his pocket and shoved it into my hand. “Take this.” Annie’s family lived in a rural area. This was probably the emergency cash he’d brought with him to search for her. As I watched his retreating back, I calmly lifted my head and pulled out my phone, sending a quick text to my roommates. The fancy restaurant is on the third floor. The bar is on the fifth. Remember those free male strippers we missed out on last time? Looks like tonight’s our lucky night. I lifted the cake box in my hand and gave it a little shake. It wasn’t a cherry roll cake. It was an ice cream birthday cake I’d bought for myself. I knew he wouldn’t open it. He felt too guilty. My real birthday party was just getting started. … Right as the party hit its peak at midnight, I got a text from an unknown number. The one who isn’t loved is the other woman. Between the two of us, who do you think he’ll choose in the end? I knew instantly it was Annie, trying to provoke me. I smiled. Fine by me. I date him. I spend his money. You marry him. She wasn’t an enemy. She was a saint, sent to solve my problems for me. 7 I saw Jaxon again in a large lecture for four different classes. He’d been off the grid for a week. No texts, no calls. When he finally resurfaced, his only explanation was a curt, “My phone was broken.” Sitting right beside him, looking timid and innocent, was Annie. They and their group had arrived early and taken up an entire row, leaving no space for me. I had to find another seat. Just as I turned to leave, Annie shot up from her chair, her voice dripping with false sincerity. “Leah, don’t go! The seat next to Jax will always be yours. I’m the one who should leave.” “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were coming to this class.” The classroom was noisy. I turned back to her and replied, “It’s okay. I know you’re a sweet girl who just happens to love getting cozy with other people’s boyfriends.” Annie flinched, biting her lip helplessly. Jaxon glanced up at me, his eyes a clear warning. “I’m sorry. I apologize to you, Leah.” “Oh, so you know you’re a pathetic slut? Good. At least you’re self-aware—” “Leah! That’s enough!” Jaxon’s face was dark. He pointed to a seat in the front row and yelled, his voice booming over the chatter, “You. Sit. There.” “First come, first served.” A triumphant smirk touched Annie’s lips. First come, first served. She was hinting at her history with Jaxon. Childhood friends, inseparable. A bond no one could break. She must have been ecstatic. … The professor didn’t lecture for long, instead giving us a pop quiz that would count towards our final grade. As the room fell silent, the gossip from Jaxon’s friends drifted clearly to my ears. “Hey, how did you know Annie would be in that park? She was missing for like, two weeks.” “I heard some old ladies out for their morning walk found you two, and you weren’t even finished. C’mon, tell us, was it hot doing it in public?” “When you’re done with her, let us have a turn. I’m into girls like that—” Before he could finish, Jaxon exploded, launching himself up and punching his friend square in the face. “Say that again, I fucking dare you! I’ll kill you!” “Annie is a good girl! Who the hell do you think you are, talking about her like that?!” The entire class froze, dozens of pairs of eyes staring at them. Our dear “good girl” Annie, who loved wearing thongs and sticking to boys like glue, just lowered her eyes demurely and gave Jaxon a soft punch on the back. The silence was deafening. I stared at Jaxon, and my eyes began to well up. I quickly gathered my things and fled through the back door, as if staying one more second would make the tears fall. Truthfully… I had to run through every sad memory I’ve ever had just to squeeze out a single tear. Annie was playing her cards perfectly. Wasn’t that how I won Jaxon’s heart in the first place? By playing the victim? Don’t worry, sis, I thought. I’ve already paved the road for you. You just go ahead and walk it.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384628”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was using the new smart fridge my husband had just installed, getting ready to make a shopping list for the weekend. Suddenly, a shared family account he’d forgotten to log out of popped up on the screen. Inside, there was only one unfamiliar user profile. I tapped on it. A list titled “Rose Care Guide” stared back at me. Rose is allergic to seafood. No spicy food. Rose is emotionally volatile. Buy her favorite white chocolate to soothe her. Rose gets cold easily. The thermostat at home must be kept at a constant 78°F. I scrolled down, a cold smile on my face. The last item was a bolded calendar reminder: “Next Wednesday, take Rose to pick out a wedding dress.” Expressionless, I closed the list and dialed his number. “Darling, does your rose prefer a traditional gown or something more contemporary? I’d love to help you brainstorm.” … On the other end of the line, my husband, Chuck Croft, stopped breathing for a second. “Selene, my love, what little joke are you playing now?” His voice, wrapped in the warmth and magnetism I’d known for eight years, was as smooth and steady as ever. “What rose? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled, his tone dripping with affection. “The only rose in my life is you.” I clutched the phone, my gaze sweeping over the silent night outside the window as my lips curled into a smirk. “The one from your shared list, of course. The rose who needs to pick out a wedding dress.” His voice on the other end immediately relaxed, a note of understanding in it. “Oh, that! That’s for Henry. He’s getting ready to marry his girlfriend, and he asked me to help him plan the wedding dress shopping.” “You know how he is, always a bit of a mess. I’ll have to give him a piece of my mind later. He can’t just be syncing everything to my account and making my Selene jealous.” The perfect excuse. Henry was his best friend, the best man at our wedding. He was certain I would never doubt him. “That’s just him, always dumping his problems on me. I’m so sorry it made you worry, Selene.” “Is that so?” I asked lightly. “You two must be incredibly close, for him to need someone else’s opinion on a wedding dress.” Chuck ran with it. “Of course, we grew up together. He spoils his girlfriend rotten; I’m almost jealous myself.” “Selene, don’t overthink it. You’re the only one for me. Is your gown for the gala tomorrow night ready? I can have the driver pick it up.” “No need. I have my own arrangements.” I ended the call, tossed my apron aside, and took a complete screenshot of the list. The lock turned. In less than fifteen minutes, Chuck was home. He walked in and wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin gently in the crook of my neck, bringing with him the crisp scent of the night air. “Selene, I was still worried. I canceled my last meeting and rushed back.” He cupped my face, his deep eyes filled with sincerity and tenderness. “Have I been too busy lately, neglecting you? Is that why your mind is racing?” “Your voice sounded off on the phone, and my heart just sank. No business deal is more important than you.” “It’s all my fault. I haven’t been considering your feelings these past few days.” He took all the blame, shouldered all the responsibility, painting me as the paranoid wife, chasing shadows and consumed by jealousy. I stared at the face that had once made me fall so completely, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “No, it’s not you. I think I’ve just been tired lately.” He let out a visible sigh of relief. “You silly girl.” He brushed his fingertip against my nose. “Alright, stop worrying. I’ll go run you a bath.” He slipped off his bespoke suit jacket and tossed it casually onto a chair. As I watched him walk into the bathroom, I reached for the jacket, planning to hang it in the closet. A gold-embossed card fell out of the pocket. I picked it up. It was a collection receipt from a private couture atelier. The name of the custom gown was “Starry Night Rose,” a piece whose materials and craftsmanship came with a staggering price tag. At the very bottom, handwritten, was the recipient’s information. It wasn’t me. Nor was it Henry’s girlfriend. Clutching the thin piece of paper, I called my best friend, Zara. She was a top-tier attorney specializing in divorce cases, with an almost terrifying network of contacts. “Zara, I’m sending you a name and an address. Find out everything you can about her and her connection to Chuck Croft.” For the next few days, Chuck’s attentiveness was almost suffocating. Kisses in the morning, embraces at night, driving me to and from work himself, even starting to research recipes to cook for me. He was playing the part of the perfect, guilt-ridden husband, desperately trying to make amends for a near-misunderstanding. On Thursday afternoon, Chuck’s grandfather called. The old man first asked about how I was doing, then the conversation took a sharp turn. “Selene, you and Chuck have been married for three years now. It’s time you started putting more of your focus on the family.” “A man is at the most critical stage of his career. He needs a supportive wife at home.” “Our Chuck is a capable man, and he adores you. You need to make sure you’re holding down the fort for him.” Every word was a nail wrapped in cotton candy—not fatal, but it pierced the heart. I absentmindedly hummed my agreement until the call ended. Chuck walked in with a bowl of something warm and sat beside me. “Grandfather giving you another lecture?” I nodded. He sighed, pulling me into his arms. “Don’t listen to him. The old man is stuck in the past.” “You just do what you want to do. I’ll support you, no matter what.” The words were beautiful. I curled up in his embrace, the air between us thick with the sour stench of his decaying lies. On Thursday, Zara called back. “I’ve got it all,” her voice was ice. “The woman at that address is named Lila Jiang. Twenty-three years old. She joined Chuck’s company three months ago.” “She has this delicate, otherworldly look. Calls him ‘Chuck’ in this sweet, innocent voice in front of everyone.” “But here’s the kicker. I had someone pull the security footage.” “The day before yesterday, Chuck personally took her to that couture shop. He was there for the measurements, helped her pick the style, the whole nine yards.” An invisible hand squeezed my heart tight. Zara scoffed. “It gets worse.” “I hacked into her private photo album. The password was Chuck’s birthday.” “It’s filled with pictures of them. Intimate, everyday moments.” I hung up and opened the folder of photos Zara had sent. Lila’s album was titled My Knight. The latest post was from two days ago. Mr. Croft said this gown is mine and mine alone, just like him. He’s going to make things official at the family gala next week. The accompanying photo was of a breathtakingly beautiful gown, identical to the one on the collection receipt. The fabric was a one-of-a-kind piece Chuck had recently purchased at a high price from an old master artisan, a piece he’d told me was for my wedding anniversary gift. I scrolled down. On a night when I was falling apart, Mr. C drove across the city just to be with me. He brought my favorite white chocolate and held me all night. He said that from now on, with him here, he would never let me suffer again. The photo was of Chuck’s sleeping profile, his brow slightly furrowed, one hand holding Lila’s tightly. The picture was taken in our marital bed. In the home I had poured my heart and soul into designing, a place filled with our memories. I scrolled down again. My new car from Mr. C! He even had the interior customized in my favorite color! He said it’s my own private pumpkin carriage that will take me to the castle. The photo was a selfie of her in the driver’s seat, showing off the logo on the steering wheel. It was the new car Chuck had brought home last week. The phone slipped from my numb fingers, the screen shattering on the floor. I sank into the sofa, every ounce of strength drained from my body. Eight years. Eight years, from a schoolgirl’s uniform to a white wedding dress. The promises he made, the things he did for me—they were all now a red-hot brand, searing my heart over and over again. He said he loved me, yet he held another woman in our bed. He said he had a meeting, yet he was comforting another woman in the middle of the night. He said I was his only rose, yet he had a wedding dress and a new title ready for someone else. My stomach churned violently. I ran to the bathroom and threw up until I was empty. Why? What did I do wrong? Chuck, how could you do this to me? My heart was torn to shreds, the pain making it impossible to breathe. I leaned against the cold wall, crying until I had no more tears. But then, somewhere in the middle of the sobs, I started to laugh. I stood up and splashed cold water on my face. My pain wouldn’t earn his guilt, and my tears were worthless. Chuck, you want to make things official for her? Fine. I’ll give you the stage. Just then, Chuck pushed the door open. Seeing my state, his expression changed instantly. “Selene, what’s wrong? Why is your face so pale?” He rushed over, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead. I lifted my face, my red, swollen eyes meeting his. “Chuck, I think… I can’t do this anymore.” He froze, a perfectly crafted look of panic and heartbreak appearing on his face. “Where does it hurt? We’re going to the hospital, right now!” He moved to grab his coat. “Don’t.” I grabbed his wrist. “It’s just… my heart. It feels so heavy.” Chuck stopped. He knelt, taking my hands in his, his face a mask of regret. “It’s all my fault. I’ve been so focused on work, I’ve ignored how you feel.” “Selene, listen to me. The business isn’t important. Nothing is important. Only you.” “I’ll clear my schedule tomorrow. Let’s go to Aspen, how about that? I know you’ve always wanted to see the snow.” His words were so earnest, as if all my pain was simply the result of his neglect, not his betrayal. I looked at him and suddenly smiled. “Okay.” “Whatever you say.” The family gala the following week was actually the Croft Corporation’s annual shareholder dinner. The Crofts were an old-money dynasty, and the event was a massive affair held at their sprawling family estate. As the most brilliant heir of the third generation, Chuck was the center of attention. He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, moving through the crowd of elites with an easy smile and confident grace. My mother-in-law, dripping in jewels, stood beside him, her face beaming with pride. His grandfather, the patriarch of the Croft empire, sat in the seat of honor, leaning on a dragon-headed cane, his presence formidable. “Selene, come here.” The old man beckoned to me. I walked over, and he patted the empty seat beside him. “Sit.” “We have important guests tonight. Don’t walk around with such a long face. People will think the Croft family mistreats you.” “Chuck is out there building an empire. You need to learn to be the woman behind him. Be gentler, more considerate.” “And it’s about time we heard some news about that belly of yours!” His words were soft, but they carried an undeniable weight. I lowered my eyes and said nothing. He seemed ready to continue his lecture when Chuck approached with a glass of champagne. “Grandfather, are you lecturing Selene again?” He stood naturally behind me, his hand resting on the back of my chair as he smiled at the old man. “Selene hasn’t been feeling well lately. I’ve told her to worry less and rest more.” He was always like this, flawlessly maintaining the facade of the devoted husband in public, giving me the utmost respect. The patriarch grunted and turned to speak to someone else. Chuck leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Don’t listen to him. I like you just the way you are.” I smiled, my gaze drifting over his shoulder to a figure who had no business being here. Lila. She wore a blush-pink slip dress, draped with a white silk shawl. Her long hair was in soft waves, her makeup clean and fresh. She had an expression that was a mixture of timidity and poorly concealed triumph. Her hand rested unconsciously on her lower abdomen. She was standing not far away, beside one of Chuck’s cousins, pretending to be his date for the evening. Chuck’s eyes flickered in her direction. It was only for a second before he looked away. But I saw it clearly—the flash of joy and the certainty of possession in that one glance. Halfway through the evening, it was time for the patriarch’s speech, where he would announce the company’s major plans for the coming year. As the heir, Chuck was called to the stage. He took the microphone and started by reporting on the year’s impressive performance. Then, his tone shifted. His gaze swept across the room, finally landing on me. “I also want to thank my grandfather, my uncles, and most importantly, my wife, Selene Croft.” Every eye in the room turned to me. “However,” he paused. “Tonight, I must also announce a difficult decision.” His eyes finally moved away from mine, becoming cold and unfamiliar. “I, Chuck Croft, will be filing for a divorce from Selene.” The entire hall erupted in murmurs. Guests whispered amongst themselves. “What? A divorce?” “What’s going on? They always seemed so in love.” “My God, announcing a divorce at the family gala? Is he insane?” The patriarch’s face darkened. He tapped his cane on the floor and barked, “Chuck! What is this nonsense!” Chuck ignored him, his voice chillingly calm. “This is not nonsense.” “Selene and I have irreconcilable differences. Our marriage has been over in all but name for a long time.” “For years, she has been consumed by her own career, neglecting the care and support that a husband and a home deserve.” “That is, until I met a girl who is willing to put family first. A girl who is willing to build a home with me.” “And… she is carrying my child. I have to be responsible for her. I have to give her the position she deserves.” He turned, extending his hand in Lila’s direction. “Lila, come up here.” With tears streaming down her face, Lila gathered her dress and, in the dead silence, walked step by step onto the stage. She reached Chuck’s side and he pulled her into a fierce embrace. He bent down and lovingly kissed a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry you had to go through this.” Then, he looked up, fixing me with the gaze of a judge passing sentence. “Selene, for the sake of the years we spent together, if you leave quietly now, we can both maintain a shred of dignity.” “I will give you a generous settlement, enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life.” “But if you insist on making a scene, you will be the only one who ends up humiliated.” He had calculated everything. To do this, in this place, in this way, was to nail me to a pillar of shame. He wanted everyone to know that I, Selene, was the barren wife, clinging to a title I didn’t deserve, while he was the victim, a man simply seeking true love and a family. I looked at the hypocritical couple on stage, at the patriarch’s face, which had shifted from rage to deep disappointment. I smiled. And step by step, I walked onto the stage. I took the other microphone from the host’s hand. Every camera, every pair of eyes, instantly focused on me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384627”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel