Author: Momo Chan

The villain, grim and broken, hurled a teacup at me. “Get out,” he snarled. “Are you deaf?” I met his murderous gaze and, taking his hand, slowly traced two words onto his palm: I’m deaf. My System shrieked in my mind. “Host, what are you doing?!” “The only way to win him over is to be even more broken than he is.” I blinked at the villain, my eyes wide with a carefully crafted innocence, and continued to spell out my message. “I have a heart condition. Could you please… not be so mean?” A violent tremor shot through his hand. 1 “First a redemption mission, now a conquest mission. Are you guys sure you’ve got the right person?” I grumbled, carrying a tea tray down the second-floor hallway of the opulent mansion, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps. My conversation was purely internal, a back-and-forth with the System in my head. “And don’t forget which division I’m from.” “We haven’t forgotten, we promise! But you’re the only agent in the Transmigration Bureau with a 100% success rate, and this world is down to its last chance. If you fail, this reality collapses…” the System whined, its tone reminiscent of a spurned lover. “We don’t know what’s wrong with this villain. His Corruption Level isn’t even that high, but he’s just… unconquerable.” “I’ve read the files. You’ve all been using the wrong approach,” I said, nearing the bedroom at the end of the long hall. “This is a conquest mission, but every agent before me tried to redeem him.” The System sounded confused. “But for a corrupted villain, isn’t redemption the ultimate form of conquest?” “Not for him. He’s different. His darkness comes from betrayal—his own brother, the one he loved most, orchestrated the car crash that stole his legs and everything he ever owned.” “So? How does that make him different?” I stopped before the heavy oak door and tilted my head. “He was born a golden boy, the heir to a fortune, showered with love his entire life. To him, your brand of ‘redemption’ feels like pity. A handout. And he doesn’t need your pity.” “Then… what does he need?” the System asked. A slow smile crept across my face. I raised my hand and knocked. A single word roared from within the room: “Out.” Even through the thick wood, the raw, explosive fury in that voice was unmistakable. “When he’s like this, no one can get near him! Host, you’d better…” A soft creak cut off the System’s frantic warning. I had already pushed the door open and stepped inside. 2 The moment I entered, my eyes were drawn to the man in the wheelchair. His face was a masterpiece of sculpted angles, his brow sharp and severe. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his forehead, and the pained tension in his expression lent a tragic, fragile beauty to his otherwise cold features. His hands were gripping the armrests, his knuckles white as he struggled to push himself up. At the sound of the door, he froze, his head snapping up. His eyes, naturally shaped for charm and warmth, were now swirling with a dark, simmering rage. This was the villain of this world: Adrian Thorne. “Get. Out,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. I paused, blinking in feigned confusion, then walked past him toward a small side table to pour a cup of tea. Before he could roar at me again, I was holding it out to him. Adrian’s face was a mask of pure loathing. He snatched the cup from my hand and, in one violent motion, smashed it against my leg. The force of the movement sent scalding tea splashing across the back of his own hand, turning the skin an angry red in an instant. “I told you to get out! Are you deaf?” he roared. I glanced down at my soaked pants, then looked back up, meeting his murderous glare without flinching. Without warning, I reached out, took his hand, and turned it palm-up. “What are you—” Before he could pull away, my finger was tracing letters onto his skin. One slow, deliberate stroke at a time. I’m. Deaf. Adrian’s struggles ceased. After a long silence, the System screamed in my mind. “Host, what are you DOING?!” “Making myself more pathetic than him. It’s the only way.” While answering the System, I pulled a small notepad and pen from my pocket—prepared in advance, of course—and scribbled a few words. Then, blinking with wide, innocent eyes, I pressed the notepad into his hand. He looked down. His gaze fell upon the single line. “I have a heart condition. Could you please not be so mean?” A violent, uncontrollable tremor shot through Adrian’s hand. 3 Adrian Thorne was nothing like the villains who were forged in fire and misery from birth. He was the heir to the Northstar Corporation, born into staggering wealth and privilege, raised by loving parents. He had been a golden boy—bright, gentle, and kind. Five years ago, when his father’s illegitimate son, Jack, was brought into the family, Adrian had even welcomed him with open arms, treating him like a true brother. But no one in the Thorne family knew that Jack was a monster in sheep’s clothing. He played the part of the harmless, grateful outsider, slowly earning their trust while following Adrian into the corporate world. But five years wasn’t enough to tame the viper they’d welcomed into their home. When the time was right, Jack orchestrated two car crashes. The first killed Adrian’s parents instantly. The second left Adrian paralyzed from the waist down. Then, with a truly sadistic flourish, Jack kept Adrian a prisoner in the family mansion, forcing him to watch as he seized control of Northstar Corporation and even stole his fiancée. Jack was the true villain of this story, a textbook sociopath who dominated the early narrative. His pure, unadulterated evil only served to highlight how tragically compelling Adrian became when, pushed to the brink, he finally broke and became something far more terrifying. My arrival was perfectly timed. Adrian was a caged animal, Jack had solidified his power, and he was in the process of claiming Adrian’s fiancée for himself. I glanced at Adrian’s long, elegant fingers, the knuckles stark white as he crumpled the note. I knew, with certainty, that his Corruption Level was probably hovering at less than fifty percent. Just as I thought this, his hand moved. He took the pen from me and, after a brief pause, wrote two words. “Leave.” He didn’t say “get out” this time. “Host, it’s working!” the System chirped. I ignored its glee, my own eyes filling with manufactured tears as I took the notepad back. I bit my lip, my expression one of pure hurt. “I’m sorry.” After writing the words, I cast one last, wounded look at Adrian and turned to leave. “System,” I commanded internally, “give me some whip marks on my legs. Make them look like they were scalded and are now bleeding.” “Huh?” The System was baffled but complied. “Done.” The moment I took my first step, I buckled, doubling over as if in agony. “Make the blood drip onto the floor.” In my peripheral vision, I saw a trickle of red snake down my pant leg and pool on the pristine floorboards. The effect was a little… dramatic. My brow twitched. This was a bit much, even for me. Then, from behind me, came Adrian’s urgent voice. “Wait.” 4 I took another faltering step, putting on a full performance of ‘I’m in agony, but I’m trying to hide it, but I can’t, and oh, the shame.’ Adrian, remembering I was “deaf,” shoved his wheelchair forward, blocking my path. “Your leg…” he started, then stopped, frustrated. He snatched the notepad and scribbled, “What happened to your leg?” He followed it up with another question. “Do you know sign language?” A single tear rolled down my cheek as I began to sign. “My leg… it was already injured. The hot water just…” I trailed off, glancing meaningfully at the red, angry patch on the back of his hand. Adrian’s face darkened, his expression stormier than a thundercloud. He pointed to a nearby sofa. “Sit.” He then wheeled himself over to the phone by his bed and dialed a number. “Get the doctor up here. Now.” “Tsk, tsk. He’s a wreck himself, and he can still feel guilty for someone else. No wonder the readers used to call him a saint. And no wonder his brother played him for such a fool,” I mused to the System, my face a perfect mask of pitiable suffering. “That’s only because he hasn’t fully turned yet,” the System whispered back. “In the future, he’s basically Satan…” The future Satan hung up the phone and wheeled himself back over to me. He just sat there, lips pressed into a thin line, his deep eyes scrutinizing me as if trying to solve a puzzle. He was deciding what to do with me. I decided to strike first. I signed my pre-planned story: “I escaped and collapsed at the gates. The butler found me and brought me here.” “He told me to serve you. He said if I pleased you, I could stay.” It wasn’t a stretch. Every caregiver Adrian had was driven away within two days. The butler was desperate enough to hire a stray. “Please, don’t make me leave,” I signed, my hands trembling. “I don’t want to be dragged back there…” I left the sentence hanging, a perfect piece of bait. As expected, Adrian took it. “Back where? Where did you escape from?” “I don’t know what it was called. It was a red-brick estate. There were so many women locked inside. Men would come every day and… take their pick.” “The ones they took… some never came back. The ones who did… their clothes were always torn…” Adrian’s expression shifted, his face paling. I knew he’d filled in the blanks exactly as I wanted. “Because I can’t hear or scream for help, they weren’t watching me as closely.” I looked at him, my eyes wide and fearful. After a long moment, he finally signed back. “Your injuries…” “Before the red house… my foster father… he was violent…” Before Adrian could respond, the System cut in. “Host, don’t you think you’re laying it on a bit thick?” “Doesn’t matter. Buffs stacked to the max.” This was nothing. I might be losing a few story-patching points, but Adrian had lost his legs. I could be far, far more broken than this. 5 Jack was truly twisted. He kept Adrian imprisoned in the mansion, yet he didn’t mistreat him in the conventional sense. The food, the servants, the medical care—all were top-notch. When the doctor came to examine my leg, he had to roll up my pants. The moment the grotesque wound was exposed, Adrian flinched and sharply looked away. It was a masterpiece of illusion: a crisscrossing network of old and new scars. Across one section, angry red whip marks, blistered and split open, wept blood that traced patterns like dark ivy down my calf. It was gruesome. I was very pleased with the effect. I seized the opportunity to dismantle his defenses even further. “The injury won’t affect my work,” I signed desperately. “Please… please don’t send me away.” Adrian, true to his saintly reputation, couldn’t do it. Even half-corrupted, he let me stay at the Thorne mansion to recover. But the betrayal had left its mark. He let me stay, but that was all. He never asked me to serve him, never inquired about my recovery. It was as if he had forgotten I existed. A new maid was even hired to attend to him, and after two days, she was still here. The System was having a meltdown. “Host! Why aren’t you making a move on the target? He has a new maid!” I was living my best life, sprawled out on a luxurious bed, watching TV and eating imported fruit. “Relax. Conquest is all about timing.” “He has someone else to take care of him now! How are you going to get close?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m here to conquer him, not to be his maid. Someone else doing the grunt work is a good thing.” “…” The System went silent, fuming. It wasn’t until late that night, just after I’d fallen asleep, that it shrieked in my mind again. “Host, fire! The mansion is on fire!” I shot out of bed like a coiled spring, my eyes darting around the room, searching for the source. “Not here! It’s the villain’s room!” I knew this scene. It was one of Jack’s cruel games. The servants would be inexplicably deep in sleep, leaving Adrian to struggle for his life alone. He would painstakingly drag himself to the door, only to find it locked from the outside. The “rescuers” would arrive at the last possible second, pulling him from the brink of death. “This fire is supposed to leave him with severe burns and disfigure his face,” the System said urgently. I was calmly pouring myself a glass of water. “Host, go save him!” I took a long, slow sip and yawned. “See? The timing,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face, “is perfect.” 6 Thick, black smoke was already seeping from under Adrian’s door. I calmly inserted a key into the lock. It didn’t turn. “Host, stop trying! It’s key number 3!” the System yelled. Hearing this, I promptly inserted key number 4. “Let him cook for a little longer. The closer he is to death, the more memorable his rescue will be.” The System sounded like it was having a stroke. “Tell me when he’s dragged himself halfway across the room.” A moment later, the System’s voice was frantic. “He’s there! He’s made it halfway!” I pulled out key number 3. The instant the door swung open, I hunched over, my face a mask of panic, and plunged into the inferno. The smoke was a thick, choking blanket, but I spotted him immediately—a crumpled figure on the floor. His face and clothes were smeared with soot, his hands clawing uselessly at the polished floorboards as flames licked at the walls around him like hungry beasts. He was a wreck. When he looked up and saw me, his first instinct was to snarl, “Get… out.” His voice was a raw, animalistic rasp. I faltered for a fraction of a second, then lunged toward him, grabbing him by the shoulders. He tried to push me away. “Go…” His strength was gone, but I used the weak shove as an excuse to stumble backward, my face turned upward in theatrical alarm. “System, now! Drop the chandelier on me!” CRASH! The heavy crystal fixture slammed into my head, its jagged edges raking across my face as it fell, carving a deep, bloody gash from my temple to my cheek. While Adrian was still reeling from the shock, I grit my teeth against the (simulated) pain, hauled him onto my shoulder, and charged out of the room. “Host, what in the world are you doing?!” “I’m already here. Might as well get a disfiguring scar out of it,” I replied, my mind clear and exhilarated. “He’s going to feel so damn guilty about this.” As the System fell into a stunned silence, I carried Adrian to the top of the grand staircase. The commotion had finally been loud enough to rouse the “sleeping” servants, who were now making their way upstairs. The moment I saw them, I let out a sigh of relief, closed my eyes, and let myself collapse. But I didn’t hit the hard floor. Just before I went down, a pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into a protective embrace. I fell into a chest that smelled of smoke and ash, and I could feel the arms holding me tremble. “See? He’s worried,” I told the System smugly. “Host… you have no heart,” it whimpered. “Of course not,” I replied coolly. “I’m having a heart attack, remember?” 7 I woke from a deep, satisfying sleep to the sound of someone coughing. My eyes fluttered open and met Adrian’s. His face was pale and drawn with exhaustion. He had a fist pressed to his mouth, trying to stifle the coughs. When he saw I was awake, he tried even harder to suppress them, but failed. He signed shakily, his body wracked with spasms. “Are you… okay? Does anything hurt?” I stared at him, momentarily stunned. “Host, Adrian has been sitting by your side for two days and two nights,” the System said, its voice dripping with resentment. “There’s only one doctor in the mansion. He made the doctor treat you first, and neglected his own condition. He inhaled too much smoke. He’s probably going to have permanent lung damage…” A sudden wave of irritation washed over me. “System, who is your host? Me, or Adrian Thorne?” The System let the truth slip. “You’re the head of the Annihilation Division. You’re infinitely more dangerous than he is…” “So you do know who I am. Which means you also know I’ve dismantled more than ten systems with my bare hands.” The System immediately shut up and scurried away into the recesses of my mind. I raised a hand to rub my temples, trying to quell an unfamiliar flicker of annoyance. Before my fingers could touch my skin, another hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Adrian’s eyes were dark pools of intensity as he stared at my face. A flash of pure fury crossed his features. “It will heal,” he signed, his movements firm and resolute. He released my wrist. “I’ll find the best doctors. I won’t let it scar.” I only then noticed the bandages covering the left side of my face, from my eye down to my jaw. The chandelier had done its job perfectly. “It’s okay. My face doesn’t matter,” I signed back, my expression soft, my eyes curving into a gentle smile. “As long as you’re safe.” Adrian froze, his lips parting slightly. He quickly looked away, but not before I saw the tips of his fingers curl into a fist on his lap. “I wasn’t going to kick you out,” he said, his voice a low murmur, before switching back to sign language. “You… you didn’t have to do that.” “I didn’t do it to stay.” I held his gaze, my own expression sincere and unwavering. “I came here for you.” After I finished signing, I beamed at him and formed a large, deliberate heart with my hands. Adrian’s pupils contracted sharply. He turned his head away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. But on his lap, his fingers slowly, almost imperceptibly, uncurled.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384336”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My wife, the heiress, believes money corrupts men. She threw me and our critically ill son out, demanding I account for every cent. When our son’s heart condition worsened, I desperately used the emergency card Serena gave me. The PIN failed—repeatedly. She called instantly: “You parasite! $500 a month isn’t enough? How dare you steal from me?” “Harry made me change the password. You’ll get nothing more, Evan.” To save my son, I rushed home in the rain for my last savings—but Harry, her assistant and lover, blocked the door. “All Vance assets are under my control,” he smirked. “Taking even a penny is a crime.” I begged: “Leo’s dying. I need to save him.” Serena appeared, arm in arm with Harry, and pushed me away with her foot. “Stop your pathetic drama. It’s disgusting.” After ten years of love, something in me shattered. If she wants blood… then blood it will be. … My legs gave out from under me. With a trembling hand, I dialed the hospital. “Please,” I choked out, “just save my son. I… I’m on my way.” Before I could finish, a hand slapped the phone from my grasp. “So noisy!” It clattered to the marble floor, the screen instantly fracturing. My mind went blank as I lunged for it, but Harry’s polished leather shoe came down first. He ground his heel into it, the screen splintering into a spiderweb of glass. “A small lesson,” he sneered, his hand sliding down Serena’s waist. “If I catch you stealing again, it won’t be this simple.” He smirked, his touch becoming possessive. “What’s the big deal about one kid? If you want another, I can give you one right now.” “Oh, you,” Serena purred, hooking her arms around his neck and planting kisses on his face. She then shot me a look of pure ice. “What are you still standing here for? Get the hell out!” The image of my son, pale and struggling for breath in a hospital bed, forced the humiliation down my throat. “Serena,” I said, my voice raw and broken, “I’m begging you. Just lend me the money for Leo. He’s your son. Your own flesh and blood. Are you really going to watch him die?” For a second, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—hesitation. She turned to Harry. “Maybe we should—” “No.” Harry pulled his arm from her grasp, his tone sharp as he sank into the plush sofa. “He’s having an attack, he’s not dead. What’s all the fuss?” He leveled a cool gaze at her. “And didn’t you promise you’d listen to me about everything?” His voice dropped to a suggestive whisper. “If you go soft on him today, just wait and see how I’ll punish you tonight.” “Okay, okay, you’re right, I’m sorry…” Serena melted instantly, curling into his lap, her hands beginning to roam. Harry’s laughter was triumphant, his eyes locking with mine in a blatant challenge. They started to move against each other, right there in the living room, the shameless sounds stabbing at my eardrums. I squeezed my eyes shut, a bone-deep chill spreading through me. Finally, I gritted my teeth. “Serena,” I said, each word a shard of glass. “Let’s get a divorce.” The air froze. Serena pushed Harry off her, her face a mask of annoyance. “Evan, who the hell do you think you are? You don’t get to ask me for a divorce.” She stood up, her voice dripping with contempt. “Don’t forget, the food you eat, the clothes on your back, even your worthless life—it all belongs to the Vance family!” Her words were a knife in my heart, and memories flooded back against my will. Serena and I were childhood sweethearts. When her family’s company went bankrupt, I didn’t hesitate. I gave her my entire inheritance from my parents to pull them through. She had cried in my arms, swearing, “Evan, from this day on, I will never betray you.” Now, looking at the fresh marks on her neck, a wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I could only bite down, hard. Seeing my silence, she let out a scornful laugh and patted my cheek. “Just be a good little dog and do as you’re told.” A profound sense of powerlessness washed over me. In my desperation, I scrambled to scoop up the loose change that had fallen from my pockets, making a break for the door. Harry shot up and kicked me square in the chest. The blow sent me flying backward. I crashed to the floor, a blinding, searing pain erupting from my ribs. “Are you deaf? You won’t touch a single cent of Vance money!” he snarled. With a flick of his wrist, two bodyguards materialized, seizing my arms in an iron grip. His smug expression was the final straw. “Let me go!” I roared, thrashing wildly. “If anything happens to my son, I swear I’ll kill you!” I wrenched one arm free and grabbed his tie, yanking him toward me. Serena snatched a heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at my head. My vision exploded into blackness. Warm blood streamed from my temple, blurring the world. As the room spun, the last thing I heard was her cold, clear command. “Lock him in the basement. It’s time he learned a lesson.” They threw me into the darkness like a bag of trash. I slammed my fists against the heavy steel door until my knuckles were raw and bloody, but there was no response. Exhausted, I finally slid to the floor, all fight gone from me. The image of Leo’s pale face swam before my eyes, and the tears finally came. Clang! The door rattled open, and a bowl of reeking leftovers was shoved inside. “Hey! Dinner time!” a brutish guard I’d never seen before grunted. It was a lifeline. I scrambled to the door. “Sir, please! Please let me out!” I begged. “My son is dying in the hospital! I have to save him! Please!” The guard chuckled as if I’d told him a joke. In my despair, I reached out, trying to grab his pant leg. He recoiled instantly, then brought his boot down hard on my wrist. A muffled cry of pain escaped my lips. “Get off me, you filthy piece of trash!” he spat, kicking the bowl over. Foul-smelling food and sour liquid splattered all over me. He spit on the floor. “A man as pathetic as you might as well be dead.” The door slammed shut again, plunging me back into the stinking darkness. I sat there, paralyzed in the cold filth, as the last flicker of light in my soul died out. Sleep was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Through the night, I painstakingly pried open the grate of a ventilation shaft and began the agonizing crawl through the narrow passage. Sharp metal edges tore at my skin, leaving me bloodied and raw, but by dawn, I had made it to the hospital. My son was lying in his bed, his breathing terrifyingly shallow. Tears burst from my eyes as I stumbled to his side, gripping his small, cold hand. “Leo, Daddy’s here… Daddy’s here…” “Mr. Thorne, what happened to you?” The doctor entered the room and gasped at the sight of me, covered in blood and grime. But his expression quickly grew grim. “We managed to stabilize him last night, but his condition is critical. He needs surgery. Immediately.” “Then do it! I’ll sign whatever you need!” I grabbed his arm, my voice trembling uncontrollably. The doctor shook his head, his face etched with pity. “The family card you’re registered with has been frozen. The account is inaccessible.” He hesitated. “And the surgery, plus the aftercare… it will cost at least half a million dollars.” The words struck me like a bolt of lightning. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I couldn’t believe Serena, just to satisfy Harry’s lust for control, would be cruel enough to extinguish my last sliver of hope. From the bed, Leo must have sensed my despair. His voice was a mere whisper. “Daddy… don’t cry. Leo doesn’t hurt.” I shook my head violently, tears mixing with the blood on my face. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Daddy will find a way. I promise, I will save you.” My grief was so absolute that I didn’t notice the profound understanding in my son’s eyes, a wisdom that didn’t belong to a child. I missed the deep, heartbreaking reluctance in his gaze as he watched me leave. I ran back to the mansion like a man possessed. When I burst through the living room doors, the sound of sharp laughter died abruptly. Serena was curled in Harry’s lap, sipping champagne. The cruel contrast between their leisurely morning and my dying son ignited a firestorm in my chest. “Serena!” I screamed. “Are you even human? You froze the card? It only had a five-hundred-dollar limit!” She looked at me, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. “What are you talking about?” “I froze it.” Harry wiped his mouth with a napkin, his gaze dismissive. “This is what happens when you don’t report to me, Evan. Serena said five hundred a month, that’s it. As for that little bastard’s medical bills? You can go earn the money yourself.” I was shaking with rage, my eyes fixed on Serena. “You’re just going to stand there and let him murder your own son?!” “Harry…” Serena began, a hint of guilt in her voice, but he cut her off with a single, sharp look. “Are you getting soft again?” Harry stood, his voice grating. “You said I was in charge. Now this loser puts on a little sob story and you want to give him money? What about my authority? My pride?” Serena rushed to his side, placating him. “Don’t be angry, honey. Of course, you’re in charge.” I stood frozen, watching this grotesque farce play out. My heart felt like it was being physically ripped in two. My son and I… we were nothing more than props for her to appease her lover. Looking around the opulent room, a bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. “My son’s life is worth less than this boy-toy’s ego.” I locked eyes with her. “Serena, you don’t deserve to be a mother.” “Shut up!” she shrieked, her face contorted with fury. She slapped me, hard. “If it weren’t for your pathetic tricks, I never would have gotten pregnant with that little mistake in the first place! If he dies, he has it coming!” Her monstrous words made the veins in my temples throb. I lunged at her, but the bodyguards were on me in an instant, pinning me to the floor. All I could do was roar in helpless fury. Serena smoothed her dress and took Harry’s arm. “Anyone who makes Harry unhappy,” she said, her voice a cold whisper as she passed me, “is just asking for trouble.” Harry tilted his chin up, his face a mask of smug satisfaction. “Stop begging like a dog, you waste of space. If you really want money, there are plenty of ways to sell yourself. Drop the act.” A cruel grin spread across his face. “In fact, I’ll send you somewhere you can earn some big money right now.” He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me out the door like a carcass. He took me to a private, members-only club owned by the Vance Corporation. “Do a little show for the ladies here,” Harry said, enjoying the terrified pallor of my face. “A little striptease, maybe bark like a dog. If one of them is in a good mood, who knows? She might just toss you enough for those medical bills.” Before I could fight back, his men shoved me into the center of a private suite. The humiliation was absolute, a physical weight that made every pore of my skin crawl. But the image of Leo, alone and fighting for his life, flashed in my mind. Under the glare of a dozen mocking eyes, I began to unbutton my shirt, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I dropped to my knees on the cold floor, my disheveled hair barely hiding the burning shame on my face. “Crawl!” someone shouted. The jeers and catcalls were like lashes on my back. Each movement was a fresh wave of degradation, threatening to crush what little was left of me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. My dignity was ground into dust. The room erupted in laughter as banknotes rained down on me, hitting my face and body. “Isn’t that Mr. Thorne? How the mighty have fallen.” “What a loser. Can’t even keep his own wife happy. These kept men have no spine.” “I heard Serena Vance took her new boy-toy on a yacht trip. Dropped a hundred million in one night without batting an eye.” Every word was a poisoned dart. My son’s life was nothing to them. A joke. I crawled numbly from one spectator to the next, enduring their taunts. But no matter what I did, the money they threw was a pittance, a drop in the ocean against the mountain of medical debt. The alcohol they forced on me and the sheer exhaustion were making me delirious. I was about to pass out. I forced myself to gather the scattered bills, until Harry’s shoe came down, grinding my hand into the carpet. “Well, look at you. Willing to lose all face for that short-lived brat, huh?” He crouched down, yanking my chin up. “Since you worked so hard, I’ve got a little something for you.” A sense of profound dread washed over me. He produced a small, black wooden box and slowly opened it in front of me. Inside was a small pile of grayish-white powder. “You wanted to see your son, didn’t you?” he purred, his smile utterly demonic. “Might be hard to recognize him now that he’s just ash.” The blood froze in my veins. “No!” I screamed, a raw, animal sound. “You’re lying!” Harry leaned in closer, his grin widening with sadistic pleasure. “He was a smart kid, actually. Knew he was a burden. He pulled out his own oxygen tube. Guess he figured having a pathetic failure for a father wasn’t much of a life.” “AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!” A tsunami of grief and rage annihilated my sanity. I exploded upward like a cornered animal, my fist connecting with Harry’s face in a sickening crunch. He shrieked, stumbling backward. The box flew from his hand, hitting the floor and bursting open. At that exact moment, the door to the suite was thrown open. Serena stood there. She saw Harry on the floor, clutching his face, and her expression turned murderous. She rushed to his side, her eyes full of panic and concern. Then she turned on me. “Evan! Are you insane?! How dare you touch Harry!” I stared at the blinding white powder scattered across the floor, my heart threatening to stop. I fell to my knees, uselessly trying to gather the dust with my bare hands. Tears mixed with the blood from my forehead, dripping onto the plush carpet. Serena grabbed a glass of champagne and smashed it over my head, her shrill curses ringing in my ears. I barely felt it. I was numb. “Crazy…” I mumbled, my mouth full of the coppery taste of blood. “Yes. I am crazy.” I looked up, my eyes a hellish reflection of a man with nothing left to lose. Serena flinched, a flicker of fear in her eyes as she stumbled back. In the next second, I snatched a shard of broken glass from the floor and lunged. “My son is dead,” I snarled. “And I’m going to make you both pay. Blood for blood!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384335”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 They called me the Crimson River Killer. I was the prime suspect in the city’s most notorious string of murders, arrested by my own husband, Police Chief Marcus Thorne, and sentenced to death by lethal injection. Three years after my execution, the killings started again. The methods were identical, the cruelty just as profound. In Marcus’s new home, strange things began to happen. His new wife, haunted by spectral whispers and phantom touches, suffered a miscarriage, her mind unraveling. I thought, finally, they would reopen the case. Finally, my name would be cleared. Instead, the city whispered a different story. They said I was a plague that refused to die. “The killer’s methods are exactly the same as Victoria Livingston’s. It has to be her ghost, back for revenge!” “She went after a seventy-year-old woman and a three-month-old baby. She’s a monster!” “They should dig up her body and burn the bones to ash! Stop her from hurting anyone else!” Bowing to public pressure, Marcus himself brought a renowned spiritualist to my grave to perform an exorcism, to bind my restless soul. The old master, a Taoist priest named Master Wu, stood before my tombstone, his eyes closed. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice heavy. “There will be another victim today. We must find out how Miss Livingston truly died, and quickly.” … Marcus’s brow furrowed. He had been the one to witness my execution. The priest’s words made no sense. “What do you mean, truly died? Victoria Livingston was executed by lethal injection three years ago.” His voice was tight with impatience. “Master Wu, just bind her spirit. Then there will be no more victims.” The priest flicked the horsetail whisk in his hand. “The resentment here is suffocating. Miss Livingston’s death was not so simple. If you do not trust my judgment, Chief Thorne, then perhaps you should find someone else.” Marcus’s face darkened. Master Wu of the Azure Cloud Temple was eccentric, but his reputation was legendary. His unique ability to read memories from bone had helped police departments across the country solve countless cold cases. He was the only one who could quell the rising tide of public hysteria. The orders from above were clear: if Marcus couldn’t calm the city’s fears, his career as police chief was over. He had moved heaven and earth to get the old master here. He had no choice. With a deep, respectful bow, he said, “I would not dare. I implore you, Master, help me solve this case and bring peace back to our city.” The priest’s expression softened slightly. “Even you, the man who shared her bed, do not know the truth of her death. It seems a bone-reading is our only option. We must find the truth in Miss Livingston’s memories.” Marcus nodded and signaled for his men to begin, but a sharp cry stopped them. “Don’t dig!” It was his new wife—and my half-sister—Valerie. “Valerie, what are you doing here?” She was frantic. “No matter what Victoria did, she was my sister! I can’t stand here and watch you desecrate her grave!” Still weak from her miscarriage, she swayed on her feet. Marcus rushed to her side, his face etched with concern. “You’re too kind, my love,” he murmured, pulling her into an embrace. “Victoria’s ghost has been tormenting you every night, and still you defend her?” He stroked her hair. “I’ll have someone drive you home. You need to rest. Leave this to me.” Valerie shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Marcus, you’re so invested in this. Is it because… you still have feelings for her?” He gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “How could I?” he said, his voice soft but firm. “She’s a serial killer who continues her evil even in death. In my dreams, I execute her a thousand times over.” He held her tighter. “Don’t worry. Once we have the truth, I’m sure Master Wu will ensure her malevolent spirit never finds peace.” I floated beside them, each word a dagger in my spectral heart. Valerie fell silent, finally conceding. “Alright. Then I’ll stay and watch the master work.” But I saw the sheen of cold sweat on her forehead, the flicker of panic in her eyes. Marcus waved his hand, and the two men resumed their digging. Soon, my coffin was unearthed, its heavy lid pried open. Inside, there was nothing but my clean, white bones. Master Wu reached in, his expression solemn as his fingers brushed against my skull. “Everyone, please close your eyes,” he instructed. “I am about to begin the reading. I will search Miss Livingston’s memories. No matter what you see or hear, do not make a sound. Any interruption will shatter the vision.” The small crowd obeyed without question. I felt the gentle pull on my memories, and my spirit sighed. The first image that bloomed in their minds was from high school. Marcus and I were freshmen. A boy in our class was teasing me about my single mother, yanking on my braids. Marcus, who sat next to me, kicked the boy’s chair out from under him, and the two of them exploded into a fight. Marcus won. He stood over the other boy and warned him that every insult would earn him another beating. In that moment, watching his fierce profile, my heart had skipped a beat. When he sat back down, I silently took a bandage from my bag and gently pressed it to a cut on his forehead. Our fingers brushed, and a blush crept up my neck. I noticed then that the tips of his ears were also red. After school, as I was about to leave, he grabbed my arm. I turned, surprised, and he looked at me with an earnest intensity. “Victoria, don’t be afraid. I’m here now. No one will ever bully you again.” I just nodded, a small smile playing on my lips, not pulling my hand away. The memory was sweet, innocent. No one could connect the shy girl in the vision with the monster she supposedly became. Even Marcus seemed lost in the past, a nostalgic softness in his eyes. It was Valerie who broke the silence. “We’re supposed to be looking for the cause of her death, aren’t we? This seems… irrelevant.” Her voice was laced with a subtle bitterness. “Marcus was so good to her, but she didn’t appreciate it. She chose to be a killer instead…” The vision shattered. When Marcus opened his eyes, the warmth was gone, replaced by a cold, hard mask. He turned to the priest. “Valerie is right. This memory has nothing to do with the case. Please, Master, search for another time.” Master Wu shot them a disapproving glance but complied, his fingers moving in a new, intricate pattern. The next memory was our wedding day. As we were about to exchange rings, gasps and screams erupted from our guests. We turned. On the large screen behind us, where a slideshow of our life together was supposed to be playing, was a video. It was me, holding a knife, plunging it into a victim. I stood frozen as plates and curses rained down on me. A shard of ceramic cut my forehead, and blood trickled into my eye. “So you’re the Crimson River Killer! The one who’s been terrorizing the city for a decade!” “Call the police! Arrest her! She deserves to die!” “Wait, isn’t her husband a cop?” “What a joke! A killer marrying a police chief…” In ten minutes, my life was destroyed. Our beautiful wedding reception was a scene of chaos. Marcus, my Marcus, snapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists and led me away. My mother, watching from the front row, collapsed from a sudden brain hemorrhage and was rushed to the ICU. A pang of anguish shot through my soul. She had raised me alone, and this was supposed to be the day she finally saw me happy. In the back of the police car, Marcus wouldn’t look at me. His face was a stone mask. When we arrived at the station, a mob was already waiting. The Crimson River case had haunted the city for ten years. Now that they had a face to blame, their rage was boundless. They surged forward, kicking and punching me. The officers with us couldn’t hold them back. Marcus, his eyes red-rimmed, threw himself in front of me, trying to reason with them. “She’s only a suspect right now! We need to verify the authenticity of that video! Please, calm down! Trust us, we will get you justice!” A woman sobbed, her face contorted in grief. “My mother was seventy-seven years old! She worked her whole life, and I finally convinced her to retire. And then this bitch killed her!” Another man screamed, his voice raw with pain. “My son was three months old! He couldn’t even say ‘dada’ yet! She stabbed him twenty-two times! Victoria, are you even human?!” The accusations, the physical pain—it was too much. A roaring filled my ears, and the world went black. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Marcus was there to cuff me again and take me back to the station. This time, his face was a mask of agony. “Victoria, the experts have authenticated the video. The evidence is conclusive. Even if you don’t confess, you’ll get the death penalty.” His voice broke. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do!” Before they led me into the interrogation room, I met his eyes. “I am not a serial killer, Marcus,” I said, my voice steady. “Don’t you believe me?” He looked away, his own eyes filled with tears. “You promised,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “You promised no one would ever bully me again.” Another voice cut through the memory, shattering it. “I was there! I saw the video! It was her face!” “The psycho started killing when she was fifteen! She filmed every single one! She’s pure evil!” “Did you hear what she just said? Was she trying to emotionally manipulate Chief Thorne into faking evidence for her?” “Thank God he chose justice over his wife and put that monster down himself!” My spirit let out a bitter, silent laugh. No. That wasn’t it. I just wanted him to find the truth. Having been interrupted twice, Master Wu finally lost his temper. “I told you at the beginning to remain silent!” he thundered. “There are only three chances to read the bones. We have one left. If you break the connection again, the resentment will not be appeased. Can any of you guarantee that you won’t be the next victim?” The crowd fell silent, their mouths clamped shut in fear. The master placed his hand on my skull for the final time. My image appeared once more. I was a teenager again, my face young and unlined. But this time, my eyes were cold, dead—a chilling contrast to the shy girl from the first memory. It was a sunlit afternoon. I was following an elderly woman with silver hair down a winding alleyway. She finally noticed me and turned, her face creasing into a kind smile. “Are you lost, dear? Why don’t you come inside for a bit? After we eat, Grandma will help you find your family.” I nodded meekly and followed her into her small, tidy home. The moment the door clicked shut, I pulled a fruit knife from my sleeve and drove it into her heart. Again and again. Twenty-two times. She collapsed in a pool of blood, her eyes wide with a question she would never get to ask. How could a child be capable of such brutality? Someone in the crowd made a choked sound but quickly stifled it. The priest’s warning had been effective. Even Valerie, watching this, didn’t look as horrified as the others. Instead, a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief escaped her lips. The scene shifted. I was climbing through a window, hiding under a bed. I waited until the couple had left and the grandmother was in the kitchen, then I crept out. I approached the crib, a terrifying smile spreading across my face as I looked down at the sleeping infant. I pressed a cloth soaked in ether over his small mouth and nose. And then, just as before, I stabbed him in the heart. Twenty-two times. Afterward, I covered his small body with a blanket, hiding the bloodstains. The women in the crowd wept silently. The memories flashed by, one after another—a decade of murder. Men, women, children, the elderly. The scenes were always the same: no surveillance, no physical evidence left behind. But the face of the killer in every memory, in every frame of the horrific videos shown at my wedding, was undeniably mine. It was Victoria Livingston.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384334”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I accidentally slept with my arch-nemesis. I woke up and ran. But freakish fertility meant one night resulted in quadruplets. Before I could tell my family, mercenaries grabbed us and locked us in a private hospital suite. Sebastian Croft—the man I’d slept with—had crashed on his way to a party and was now in a coma. The quadruplets? Possibly his only heirs. His mother offered $400 million to keep them. My parents refused: “We’re poor but proud,” my father said. My sister Lily promised to help me raise them. As I nearly agreed, Sebastian’s voice rang in my mind: Take the money, idiot! Last time, your parents took 4 billion from my mother for our sons—then gave it all to your sister! Your father sold you to some backwoods town for 10k while you recovered, afraid you’d ruin Lily’s perfect life! I stared at his motionless lips, even pried them open slightly. Don’t touch me, moron! If you hear me—don’t be a fool again! … “Geri Bartlett, how could you have sex before marriage? I never thought I’d have such a disgraceful daughter!” My dad’s face was purple with rage, his finger practically touching my nose as he spat his words. My mom stepped between us. “Mark, times have changed. Don’t be so harsh on Geri. What’s done is done. We need to think about her future now.” She turned to me, her voice softening. “Geri, honey, we’re not rich, but we’ve always made sure you and Lily had everything you needed. I taught you from a young age that a person’s dignity is priceless. If you take that four hundred million, you’re essentially selling your children. We don’t do things like that. It’s immoral.” She patted my hand. “You’ve never been pregnant before, sweetie, you don’t know what to expect. I’ll take care of you. And after the babies are born, I’ll help you raise them.” Lily nodded eagerly. “I’ll help too, sis! I’m an elementary school teacher, so I can make sure we raise four little geniuses!” Just like Sebastian’s thoughts had predicted. A perfect prophecy. “And what about me?” I asked my mom, my voice quiet. She hesitated for a second. “Well, of course, I’ll look after you while you recover from the birth.” “And after that?” I pressed. “Do I just… not get married?” “After you have these kids, you can stop being so picky and get back to dating!” my dad roared before my mom could answer. She shot him a glare and turned back to me with a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to get married. You’ll have done the most important thing in a woman’s life. You can do whatever you want after that. Of course,” she added, “you’ll still have to work. Four babies will be a handful for your father and me, so you’ll need to earn money for formula.” Influenced by Sebastian’s mental tirade, I could suddenly see the superficiality in her words, the false comfort I’d never noticed before. My whole life, I’d seen my family in a certain light. My dad was a typical patriarch, ordering my mom, Lily, and me around without a second thought. My mom, though she enabled him, was gentle and reasonable. She never told me to “give in to your sister” and often praised me for being sensible and smart. Lily had always been my shadow, and even though we grew distant when she went to college out-of-state, she was still my sweet little sister whenever she came home. Had I been blind my whole life, or was Sebastian using some kind of black magic to mess with my head? “Geri, you’re not actually thinking about taking the money, are you?” Lily’s voice, suddenly sharp and shrill, snapped me back to reality. The jealousy in her eyes was a palpable thing. My mom’s face hardened. “Geri, you’ve only been working for a couple of years. Have you already developed such a taste for luxury? If you choose the money, I’ll be deeply disappointed in you.” I could understand her not wanting me to “sell my kids.” But calling me greedy for accepting a payment that would secure their future? That, I didn’t understand. My dad’s anger boiled over. He shoved past my mom, his hand raised to strike me. I flinched back instinctively. His eyes bulged. “You dare to dodge? You worthless girl! If you take that money, I swear I’ll break your legs when we get home!” Sebastian’s mental voice was frantic. Geri, can’t you see it? They don’t love you! My mother is waiting for your decision, and your own father is calling you ‘worthless.’ Has he ever called your sister that? I know it’s hard to accept that your parents don’t love you, but you have to wake up—for our sons! Take the four hundred million and live your life! “What happened to the children?” I whispered, looking at him. When they were old enough, they kept asking about their mother. Our eldest, the smartest one, figured out where you’d been taken when he was only five. He went to save you alone. The other three secretly followed him… and something terrible happened to all of them. The pain in his thoughts was so raw it was clear they had suffered immensely. I stroked my barely-there bump, a wave of protectiveness washing over me. My decision was made. My dad was still yelling. “What are you talking to this vegetable for? So what if his family has money? He’s as good as dead! You are not marrying him!” Mrs. Croft had finally had enough. “Mark Bartlett, my son is not dead. And I will see to it that he recovers.” My father deflated instantly, muttering under his breath, “Can’t even call a vegetable a vegetable anymore.” I almost laughed. He was just a paper tiger, all bark and no bite. I looked at Mrs. Croft, my voice firm. “Ma’am, I accept your offer. You can transfer two hundred million now, and the other two hundred after the children are born. And… if you’ll have me, I’d like to marry Sebastian.” I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure about Sebastian’s telepathic warnings, but one thing was certain: with money, I could build a good life. I could protect the people I wanted to protect. Idiot! You are not marrying me! My father exploded. “You crazy bitch! Are you out of your mind? For a bit of cash, you’re going to have a vegetable’s babies and then tie yourself to him for life? I don’t have a daughter so pathetic!” My mother’s face was grim. “Geri, don’t be so impulsive. You’ll regret this.” Lily couldn’t hide her malice anymore. She glared at me as if she wanted to tear me apart. Mrs. Croft looked me straight in the eye. “Geri, you’re willing to marry my son, even if he never recovers?” I nodded. “I don’t want my children to be illegitimate.” “Don’t worry about that,” she said smoothly. “I can arrange their story.” I shrugged. “Then I just want the money.” A man with a mouth as foul as Sebastian’s wasn’t exactly my dream husband. “Done.” Mrs. Croft transferred two hundred million dollars to my account on the spot. The notification sound on my phone was the most satisfying thing I’d ever heard. The room fell silent. My family stared, mouths agape. My father was the first to snap out of it. He lunged at me, his hand raised again. “You give that money back—Agh!” Before he could finish, one of the mercenaries had him in an iron grip. Faced with absolute power, my father began to tremble and beg. Mrs. Croft’s voice was calm but laced with steel. “Mark Bartlett, Geri is now the mother of my grandchildren. I will not allow you to harm her.” My mom, terrified, rushed to smooth things over. “Geri is our eldest! Now that she has all this money, why would we ever hurt her? Mark just has a temper, I’ll talk to him. You’re a powerful woman, please don’t hold it against him.” “See that you do,” Mrs. Croft said, dismissing them. “Now, please leave. My son needs his rest.” Mrs. Croft arranged a separate car for me. My father, still shaken, didn’t dare say another word. My mother grabbed Lily and offered me a few hollow compliments, but I knew better than to believe them now. Free from their control, I went straight to one bank and deposited a hundred million, then to another to buy fifty million in gold bars. The rest I set aside for a house. After a quick stop at a lawyer’s office, I had the Croft’s driver take me back to my parents’ home. I didn’t expect the complete change in attitude that awaited me. My father was standing in the living room, holding a belt, his voice stiff. “Daughter, you’re pregnant. I shouldn’t have tried to hit you. I’m here to apologize.” He actually started to kneel. “Don’t,” I said, stopping him. His face flushed. “So, you accept my apology?” I nodded. In truth, I was only there to pack my things and leave for good. I had to protect my unborn children, and whether my father’s apology was genuine or not was completely irrelevant. My mom beamed. “See, Mark? I told you Geri is the most sensible one. She never holds a grudge, especially not against her parents.” I’d heard her call me “sensible” a thousand times growing up. Today, I finally understood what it meant. It was a tool of manipulation, a way to make me feel guilty for wanting anything, for fighting for myself. While the “willful” Lily could live freely and be showered with all their love. Why? What made it fair? My mom wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Come on in, Geri. I made your favorite, steamed crab.” It was another one of her moves, a desperate attempt to keep me under her thumb. But this time, it only exposed her ignorance. She didn’t even know I was allergic to crab. Lily loved crab, so we had it often, but I could never eat more than a few bites. The one time I got to eat a whole quarter of a crab was after I placed first on a major exam in high school. I got sick immediately. My mom gave me some cash and told me to go to the clinic myself. When I came home and told her I had an allergy, my dad called me dramatic, and my mom promised she’d stop making it. A day later, Lily whined that she wanted crab dumplings, and my mom prepared a feast. Before we ate, she placed a heaping plate of steamed crab in front of me. “This is just steamed, Geri,” she said kindly. “It’s light, and I washed it very carefully. You’ll be fine this time. You’re such a good girl, even sickness wouldn’t dare to touch you. Trust me.” I got sick again. This time, I quietly took an allergy pill and told myself she just didn’t understand allergies. If I was just more sensible, my allergy wouldn’t be a problem for the family. I had brainwashed myself like that countless times, all for a few scraps of their love. Thank god I was finally awake. At the dinner table, I picked at a bland plate of stir-fried bok choy while my family exchanged furtive glances. Lily finally broke the silence. “Sis, my commute is two hours each way now. It’s killing me. I’ve been wanting to buy one of those townhouses near the school. My birthday’s coming up, so you could just get me the deed as a gift, right? It’s not much, only twenty million.” A small, bitter smile touched my lips. Of course. This whole act was about the money. “I donated it,” I said flatly. “All of it. To charity.” Lily’s face contorted. “What? Two hundred million? You donated all of it? For twenty-something years, you’ve lived in this house, used our money, and you never once thought about giving back?” “You’ve lived here longer and used more,” I replied calmly. “Have you ever thought about giving back?” She was stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. My dad jumped to her defense. “Lily is different! She gives her salary to us, and she got that tenured teaching position. Her life is stable; your mother and I don’t have to worry about her. Besides, you’re the one who will marry out. She’s the one who’s going to stay and take care of us. It’s only right that she gets more.” So that was it. “Whose decision was that?” I asked. “Of course it was—” he started, but my mom tugged his sleeve. She gave me that practiced, phony smile. “You and Lily drew straws when you were little to decide, Geri. Don’t you remember?” I didn’t. And I suspected it was just another lie to justify their favoritism. I let go of my last shred of hope. I looked at my mom. “So you want me to buy Lily the townhouse too, right?” Her gaze flickered away. “Geri, you’ll have four hundred million after the babies are born. A twenty-million-dollar house won’t make a dent.” I laughed. “I’ll buy her the house. On one condition: we cut all legal ties. From this day forward, I am not responsible for your retirement or your care.” “You ungrateful child!” my father roared. “No, we can’t do that, we can’t…” my mother cried, slapping her thigh in distress. Lily, however, saw her opportunity. “Mom, Dad, I’ll take care of you. Look at her, the second she gets money, she wants to abandon you. Do you really think she’ll ever be a good daughter? That townhouse is in the city center; it’s an investment! It’ll only go up in value.” My parents hesitated. I wasn’t surprised. I placed a document on the table—an itemized bill of every expense they’d ever paid for me since birth. “The total on paper is less than five hundred thousand, but I know raising me took effort. So I’ll pay you two million, lump sum. After you retire, I’ll also pay you each ten thousand a month for the rest of your lives. If you live another ten years, you’ll get far more than twenty million. I can even set it up through an insurance policy if you don’t trust me.” They always said Lily, the teacher, was the stable, dependable one, while I, with my corporate job, was wild and unreliable. Fine. Let’s see if their “stable” daughter was more important than a guaranteed, comfortable retirement. Lily panicked. “Dad, Mom, she’s lying to you!” I was prepared. I coolly produced a checkbook and three copies of a contract I’d had my lawyer draft. “I can write the check for two million right now. The contracts are already signed by me. All you have to do is sign, and they become legally binding.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384333”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband is incredibly rich, but I don’t love him. Back in college, he moved heaven and earth to win over my roommate, Isabelle. Luxury gifts arrived one after another, and he once made a grand spectacle of delivering nine thousand roses to our dorm building. The rest of us in the dorm reaped the benefits, hauling armfuls of roses back to our rooms like we were raiding a botanical garden. But Isabelle remained completely unfazed. She even warned him, Damian Blackwood, to never show his face again. “He’s rich, and he’s not bad-looking. Are you sure you don’t want him?” I finally asked one night, a sheet mask clinging to my face. It was a question that had been bugging me for weeks. She had a face that could launch a thousand ships, yet she spent all her time with some upperclassman who was always working odd jobs. “No way. That type of man is too serious, too boring,” Isabelle said with a dismissive scoff. “If you want him, go for it.” I rested my chin in my hand, gave it a moment’s thought, and then nodded. “Alright,” I said. “I will.” 1 Isabelle’s expression shifted, but she said nothing more. After I finished my mask and washed my face, I headed downstairs. “She has a boyfriend,” I said, holding my umbrella out against the drizzle. I couldn’t help myself. Damian was standing under the dorm entrance, looking up at our window like a loyal puppy left out in the rain. He flinched, pushing the gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice laced with genuine apology. “I didn’t know.” Isabelle never even told him? His shoulders slumped as he looked down, about to toss the bouquet of black roses he was holding into a nearby trash can. It seemed like such a waste, watching the rain slick the dark petals. Black roses. My favorite. “Wait. Don’t throw them out. Give them to me.” He looked at the rain-soaked bouquet and gave a self-deprecating smile before handing them over. “Okay.” His white dress shirt was plastered to his torso, the wet fabric clinging to the hard lines of his abs. He was clean-cut, well-mannered, toned, tall, and surprisingly obedient. And most importantly, he was rich. Honestly, he was exactly my type. “Hey,” I called out as he turned to leave. He stopped, looking back with a lost expression. “I’m single,” I said, stepping closer and tilting the umbrella to cover him. “You should pursue me instead.” I wasn’t unattractive. I went to bed early, woke up early, and lived a disciplined life. I ran six kilometers every morning, ate healthy, and never missed my skincare routine. Far more guys pursued me than Isabelle, but I’d turned them all down. He took off his glasses, his gaze quiet and intense. Time seemed to stretch on, long enough for his assistant to rush over with an umbrella, long enough for his car to pull up to the curb. “Okay,” he finally said. 2 He took my number and left. I turned and went back upstairs. I’d looked into Damian Blackwood. He’d started his own company right after graduation, and it had been expanding ever since. Once he went back to inherit the Blackwood Group, he’d be obscenely wealthy. That’s why I could never understand Isabelle. Perhaps it was because my parents’ constant arguments about money had ended in divorce, but the most important criterion on my list for a partner was wealth. Money meant no fighting over bills and household expenses. Back in the dorm, Isabelle saw the roses in my hand, and her face soured. “You don’t have to worry anymore. He won’t be bothering you again,” I said, setting the flowers down and toweling my hair dry. I expected her to be relieved, but her expression only darkened. “You’re such a bitch,” she hissed. …What? Her voice was low, but it cut through the room, silencing everything. The towel slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a wet smack. I’ve never been one for violence, but in that moment, I slapped her. Hard. Neither of us was prone to losing control, but that day, her eyes held an emotion so intensely suppressed I couldn’t begin to decipher it. I didn’t want to. Our other roommates were horrified. Some tried to mediate, some held us back. One said I’d gone too far; another called Isabelle a hypocrite. But I truly didn’t understand. She said she didn’t want him, that his attention was a nuisance. So how, when I took him off her hands, did it become “stealing”? 3 She moved out of the dorm that day and we barely spoke again. I didn’t let it bother me. Some people whispered that I was immoral; others said the same of Isabelle. I still didn’t get it. She said his pursuit was a burden. She said no. So why was she angry when I said yes? But angry or not, she had no right to insult me. That, I couldn’t tolerate. I’d hear things occasionally—that she and her boyfriend were a perfect match, the campus power couple. People on the college forums were shipping them like crazy. Meanwhile, Damian and I started seeing more of each other. He wasn’t emotionally expressive, but he was impeccably polite and reserved, quickly becoming a hot topic on campus. I became a fixture at his side, and the rumors grew like weeds. I didn’t care. I knew what I wanted from the very beginning. On our wedding day, Damian was busy until the last minute. He finally arrived, standing before me in a perfectly tailored suit, looking less like a groom and more like a precision instrument that had just been calibrated. The wedding was extravagant. I didn’t recognize a third of the names on the guest list. I smiled for the cameras, my posture elegant, my performance flawless. I still don’t know how he convinced his parents to approve of me. There was no merger of family fortunes, no matching of social pedigrees. His parents were cultured, gracious people. They showed none of the disdain I’d expected, only offering us their sincere blessing. “We hope you will support each other and build a good life and marriage together.” Married life was comfortable. Damian was truly, obscenely rich. How rich? He owned companies all over the world, flew on a private jet, and signed deals worth hundreds of millions. Marrying him was the smartest decision I’d ever made. He didn’t understand romance, and he didn’t understand me. He never wrote me love letters or called late at night to say he missed me. On Valentine’s Day, he’d have his assistant send flowers. He was the quintessential stoic, all-business husband: calm, disciplined, and utterly unromantic. Perhaps he’d spent all his passion on Isabelle. Being with him was like being married to a money-making machine. “Your husband’s gone again? What’s the point of having all that money if he’s never home? You must be so lonely.” Lisa and I had been friends since childhood, but we’d drifted apart after I got married. The first thing she did whenever she saw me was complain about how little time Damian spent with me. I just smiled and took her for a ride on the private jet. How could I be lonely? The world was so vast, and I had my husband’s relentless work ethic to thank for the opportunity to see it. I could travel anywhere, anytime, and enjoy the absolute pinnacle of luxury. Lonely? Not a chance. 4 My best friend looked unsettled. She just shook her head. “I still think the most important thing for a couple is to be together, no matter what. To face the storms side-by-side.” …I didn’t get it. I was genuinely shocked. There were others who thought like Isabelle. But her words did leave a small sting. Was I the strange one in their eyes? “You’ve changed, Scarlett. You’re not the girl I grew up with anymore…” she said, her face flushing under my gaze. She huffed and left in a hurry. She was right. I had changed. At first, I’d take her on trips, cover all her expenses, and give her a supplementary card for spa days and shopping. But she always acted embarrassed, insisting on calculating her share of every cost, refusing to “take advantage” of me. No matter how many times I told her it was fine, no matter that Damian himself told her to spend more time with me and that he’d cover everything, she refused. My assistant would present her with a heavily discounted bill, and Lisa would stare at the price, her face tight with discomfort, then demand to see the original receipts, passive-aggressively suggesting the assistant was trying to scam her. Eventually, I stopped asking. My social circle had completely transformed after marriage. I was incredibly busy. Besides traveling, I enrolled in numerous classes—from floral arrangement and French to financial management. I studied diligently, not out of passion, but to ensure that if “something happened,” I wouldn’t leave with nothing. I’d heard that Isabelle and her college boyfriend had broken up. She was even working at a subsidiary of Damian’s company now. If he ever got nostalgic for his grand, dramatic first love and decided he wanted a divorce, I needed to be prepared. While getting half his assets was unrealistic, I intended to get as much as I possibly could. And once I got it, I’d need to know how to manage it. So yes, I was very busy. 5 I had just gotten back from a trip to Russia when Lisa came over. “Scarlett, your old flame is back! Your first love! And he’s super rich now.” Her eyes were gleaming. “You married Damian for his money, right? Well, now you can divorce him and marry Leo!” “He hasn’t contacted you all these years because he’s never gotten over you!” As luck would have it, Damian returned home the same day. He heard every single word. He stood in the entryway, his suit immaculate, his expression placid. There was no ripple of emotion in his eyes. Lisa spun around, her face instantly paling. She shot to her feet, forcing a nervous laugh. “Mr. Blackwood, you’re back… I was just joking, of course. Scarlett would never…” “I didn’t take it seriously,” he said, his voice calm. He walked in, still holding a gift box from his trip. “And I didn’t give it a second thought.” He lowered his eyes and placed the box on the coffee table in front of me. “You mentioned you wanted to try that mille crêpe cake from Hokkaido. I brought you one.” My gaze flickered, but my fingers didn’t move. My assistant always sent him my itinerary. He knew I was coming back today; he must have made a special trip. I knew his schedule was packed. Getting away couldn’t have been easy. “…Thank you,” I murmured. I heard his quiet “Mm,” and then he turned and went upstairs. I sat on the sofa, staring at the exquisitely perfect cake, and suddenly, it felt like I was chewing on sawdust.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384332”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My husband was the long-lost heir to the Nordling family fortune. And when they found him, I was standing right beside him, three months pregnant. In the blink of an eye, he became a revered corporate successor. I remained the girl from a small fishing village. Everyone said we no longer belonged together, but Damian Nordling never seemed to care. I thought I was still his wife, legally and in every other way that mattered. It wasn’t until I heard he was engaged to the daughter of the Vance family that I understood the truth: our marriage had already been voided. Later, on the day I had an appointment scheduled for an abortion, a vision of a child suddenly appeared before me, like a projection on a screen. Her tiny face was scrunched up, her little hands open as she looked at me with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mommy, I want to live… please don’t abandon me…” “I love the ocean, just like you! I’ll be your best diving buddy one day! I want to be your friend, Mommy!” I could see the child inside me? I placed a hand on my stomach, and an idea sparked. Fine. I’ll keep the daughter, and get rid of the father. … “Are you certain you want to leave while you’re pregnant?” Damian’s mother asked, twirling a string of pearls around her fingers, her expression hopeful. “Yes, I’m certain.” “Excellent. I will give you a generous sum of money. However, to avoid any complications, you must wait to leave until after Damian’s engagement in two weeks.” I nodded and signed the contract, a legal promise that I would never return to the city. The rain was pouring outside. When I got back to the villa, I could hear Damian talking with his friend, Preston, in the living room. “Damian, once you’re engaged to the Vance girl, what are you going to do with Lena? Send her back to that fishing village?” Damian frowned. “Of course not. She’s carrying my child. I would never send her back to a place like that.” A bitter smile touched my lips. The “place like that” he spoke of with such disdain held all of our happiest memories. Preston nodded. “Right, it is your kid, after all. Besides, for families like ours, it’s not unusual to have three or five women on the side.” “Still, that girl from the village really hit the jackpot. To think she’d just randomly pick a guy who turned out to be the long-lost Nordling heir.” “Latching onto the Nordling family… her ancestors must have done some serious good deeds.” He was getting more animated, completely missing the dark shift in Damian’s expression. “Preston,” Damian cut in, his voice cold. “I’ve told you before. She has a name.” The sudden chill made Preston uncomfortable. He mumbled a few excuses and left. I was hiding around the corner and ran right into Damian as he came looking for a drink. He froze for a second, then a small smile appeared. “When did you get back? You should have said something.” I knew what he was really asking. He was testing me, trying to figure out how much I’d overheard. I met his gaze, a rebellious spark of defiance flaring inside me. “Damian, are you really getting engaged?” A brief silence hung between us. He knew he couldn’t hide it anymore. “Lena, trust me. No matter what happens, I will always keep you and the baby by my side.” That wasn’t the answer I wanted. “But Damian, we’re already married. Why are you getting engaged to another woman?” I pulled out the marriage certificate I had always treasured and opened it in front of him. “Look, this is you.” As I spoke, our eyes fell on the document together. The people in the photo were still smiling brightly, but the name… Right. I had almost forgotten. He wasn’t “Liam” anymore. He was “Damian Nordling.” When he reclaimed his true identity, his old, fabricated one was legally nullified. We didn’t even need a divorce; the certificate was now meaningless. “Lena, don’t be like this.” Damian snatched the certificate, folded it, and pressed it into his palm. “Now that I’m back, I have responsibilities.” “My father had an illegitimate son, and his nephews are all circling, trying to get a piece of the Nordling empire. This marriage alliance is the only way for my mother and me to secure our position.” A tear finally escaped and slid down my cheek. He had his responsibilities. And “us” was no longer one of them. He patiently wiped my tear away, but his voice grew colder. “I can give you anything but marriage. What more could you possibly want?” I laughed. He was actually asking me what more I could want. 2 While Damian was out at a social function, I started packing. In two weeks, on the day of his engagement, I would officially leave the Nordling family. As I was about to book a ticket, the vision of my daughter appeared again. She looked at me anxiously, her little fists clenched. “Mommy, we can’t go back to the fishing village! Daddy will find us there too easily.” “What about Driftwood Isle, down south? It’s beautiful, the weather is perfect, and most importantly, it’s remote and no one will bother us.” My hand paused. I listened to her and changed my destination to Driftwood Isle. All that was left was to pick up my mother before I left, so we could start our new life together. A moment later, I came across a few old photos of Damian and me, and my mind was pulled back to our time in the village. Back then, he was Liam. He’d been brought to Seacliff Harbor by a distant relative of his adoptive family when he was about three. It wasn’t uncommon for people in the village to bring back children they’d had while working elsewhere, so no one suspected a thing. At seven, we were classmates. At fourteen, he wrote me my first love letter. At eighteen, to buy me a coming-of-age gift, he went out to sea with the fishermen for ten days and nearly drowned in the surf. The day he personally fastened the delicate hairpin in my hair, I finally broke down and threw myself into his arms. He just stood there, smiling like a fool, his hands hovering awkwardly, unsure where to put them. The image of him just now, his voice cool and distant as he urged me to accept my new reality, flashed in my mind. It was impossible to reconcile that man with the simple, earnest boy I once knew. It was only now that I truly understood. In just a few months, the intoxicating world of wealth and power had completely changed him. The person named Liam had died back in that little fishing village. I ran my fingers over the hairpin I had cherished for so long, and finally, I left it in the drawer of the nightstand. At midnight, Damian still wasn’t home, but he sent me a text. He no longer fussed over my health like he used to. Instead, he forwarded me a link: A Crash Course in High Society: Mastering the Rules of Etiquette and Survival… I scoffed. Lately, he’d been desperately trying to push me into his world, as if mastering these skills would somehow bring me closer to him. But I wasn’t him. I didn’t have the blood of the elite running through my veins. I would never learn to analyze stocks or appreciate fine art, let alone bake, taste wine, or coordinate designer outfits. My only passion was the vast, endless ocean and the freedom of diving. This time, I deleted the message. I would no longer force myself to learn things I hated. My baby, who had been quietly watching, clapped her tiny hands and gave me a thumbs-up. “Mommy’s finally woken up! Two thumbs up!” 3 A few days later, I went out to eat by myself. My appetite during pregnancy was insatiable. The vision of my daughter appeared again, wiping drool from her mouth as she pointed at the food on the table. “Mommy, I want that one! And that one… I’m not done with that, can we order another plate?” Just as I was enjoying my meal, a group of people walked in. Leading them was the very woman Damian was set to marry: Seraphina Vance. I had never met her, but one of her friends whispered in her ear, and her gaze immediately locked onto me. Before I could react, they had invited themselves to my table, seating themselves across from me. The girl who had been whispering spoke first. “Well, well, if it isn’t the little pet Mr. Nordling keeps at home.” Another girl chimed in. “I hear you’ve been causing quite a scene. Don’t you know how to be a proper mistress?” I laughed instead of getting angry. “Miss, do you have experience being a mistress? You seem awfully eager to give lessons.” “You—!” She was speechless, her face turning crimson. Seraphina, however, just smiled. Her arrogant eyes scanned me from head to toe as she toyed with the massive diamond ring on her finger. “You’re not a complete pushover, I’ll give you that.” She then casually gestured towards my stomach. “I can tolerate Damian having women on the side,” she said elegantly, “but I’m not fond of him having children. Why don’t you give the baby to me to raise? I promise I’ll treat it as my own.” “You’ve been with Damian for a while, you deserve some compensation. Name your price, and I’ll do my best to meet it.” Her condescending attitude was infuriating. I was about to get up and leave, but she blocked my way. “Miss Reed, I suggest you think this through. The child you bear may have the Nordling name, but it will be born to a woman with no official standing. At the end of the day, it will be nothing more than an illegitimate child. And I’m sure you know how difficult life is for someone like that. A loving mother plans for her child’s future. Surely you understand that?” Before I could reply, the little vision of my daughter shook her tiny fist. “Mommy, don’t listen to her! She only wants to raise me so she can get rid of you completely! Once she has me, she’ll abuse me until I’m dead!” I looked at Seraphina’s deceptively beautiful face and said firmly, “Thank you for your concern, Miss Vance, but I’ll raise my own child.” “Why are you being so difficult?” Seraphina dropped the facade, her face filled with contempt. “How could a backwater girl like you possibly raise a child properly? I hear your mother is just some lowly fisherwoman. Something born from trash will always be trash.” I had wanted to walk away, but the word “mother” rooted me to the spot. My baby’s voice piped up again, full of indignation. “This evil woman has such a nasty mouth! It’s okay, Mommy, Daddy’s almost here!” But I wasn’t waiting for Damian. I wasn’t waiting for anyone to save me. My blood boiling, I looked at Seraphina’s smug face, grabbed my water glass, and threw its contents squarely at her. “Ah!” she shrieked, just as Damian rushed in and pulled her behind him. He glared at me, a chilling frost radiating from him. The next thing I knew, he picked up a glass of soda from the table and poured every last drop over my head. 4 “Waaah, bad Daddy! That mean lady started it!” My baby was sobbing in my mind, but the people around us had already scattered, leaving only the curious eyes of the other diners, discreetly watching my humiliation. Damian’s words echoed in my head. “Lena, I’ve been too lenient with you. You need to reflect on your actions.” He hadn’t even asked what happened. He just punished me on behalf of someone else. No, not someone else. His fiancée. The Liam I once knew would never have let me suffer the slightest injustice. The Damian of today had become the very person to crush my dignity. I laughed at myself, grabbing a napkin to wipe the sticky liquid from my face. My phone rang. It was my mother. When I answered, there was only silence. My baby’s voice was frantic. “Mommy, go home, quick! Grandma’s collapsed! You have to see her one last time!” I rushed back to the village to find my mother breathing her last. She gripped my hand, her voice a thread. “Where’s… Liam? Why isn’t he with you? He promised… he’d take care of you for me.” I just sobbed and shook my head. There was no Liam anymore. “Lena… be happy,” she whispered, and then her eyes closed forever. A week later, after handling the funeral alone, I returned to the villa. The huge house was empty of Damian. The housekeeper stammered, “Mr. Nordling… went with Miss Vance for a dress fitting. T-tonight is their engagement party.” I checked my phone’s calendar. It was today. I also had 99 missed voice messages from Damian. His tone was softer, full of explanations. “Lena, I was wrong to do what I did that day. But I was trying to protect you. If I had defended you, Seraphina would have only hated you more, and she would have come after you even harder.” I didn’t want to hear it. The eighteen-year-old Liam would have fought for me, bare-fisted and direct. The new Damian’s way of protecting me was to help another woman humiliate me in public. Another message popped up. “My secretary said you went back to the village. It’s good for you to get away for a bit. You can spend some time with your mother.” My mother? Laughter and tears mingled on my face. The kind old woman who had treated him like her own son was gone forever. I sent the housekeeper away, retrieved the hairpin from the drawer, and went to their engagement party. It was eight o’clock when I arrived, just as the ceremony was reaching its peak. Damian, in a sharp suit, was gently sliding a ring onto Seraphina’s finger. I had rushed out without a coat and stood shivering at the edge of the crowd, clutching the hairpin. The diamond on the ring was blinding, its brilliance mocking my poverty. After the formalities, Damian raised his glass with the guests, their laughter weaving a warm melody. His eyes scanned the room and then, they met mine. His smile froze. He saw the black mourning ribbon pinned to my chest. He started to move towards me, but Seraphina pulled him away to greet another guest. As he was led away, he looked back at me and mouthed the words, “Wait for me.” I sneered. That was what I hated most about him. He was never completely evil, but his love was never pure either. I turned, handed the hairpin to a passing waiter, and said calmly, “Please give this to Mr. Nordling. And wish him a happy engagement.” Damian Nordling, from this moment on, we are strangers.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384331”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The night before our engagement party, I found a crumpled business card in Aiden’s suit pocket. It was from some downtown lounge. The woman smiling sweetly from the card… was none other than his first love. The girl he always said he regretted losing. When I placed the card on the table in front of him, he casually tossed a receipt into the trash, barely glancing at it. “It was after a team dinner last night. My colleagues dragged me there. I stayed for ten minutes, tops.” When I didn’t say anything, he reached out and pulled me into his arms, his tone softening just a fraction. “You’ve always wanted to get married, haven’t you? Just be a good girl, and I’ll give you that next year.” I had to laugh. Aiden. As the heiress to the Hawthorne Corporation, I have a line of suitors stretching from Paris to the Upper East Side. I don’t need you. 1 He saw me standing there, silent. A smirk pulled at his lips, a cold glint in his eyes. He reached up and patted my cheek. “Struck dumb? Huh?” I brushed his hand away. A few seconds passed before I spoke. “I sent the engagement photos to my family group chat. They…” They weren’t exactly thrilled. “So you sent them.” Aiden cut me off without even looking up. He was always like this. Anything that mattered to me, anything about my family—he never bothered to listen to the whole story. He grabbed his car keys and headed for the door, completely ignoring the remedy I’d brewed for his hangover sitting on the coffee table. “Have to deal with something at the office.” “Oh,” I said. I didn’t chase after him, asking when he’d be back, not like I usually did. He paused at the door, slipping on his shoes, and glanced back at me over his shoulder. I was wiping my cheek where he’d touched it, scrubbing with a wet wipe until my skin was raw and red. The door slammed shut with a deafening crack, the force of it knocking our framed photo on the wall askew. A dull ache settled in my chest, but strangely, not a single tear fell. The sky had just turned a deep, bruised purple. I looked in the mirror, at the faint shimmer left over from my makeup trial and the cocktail dress he’d dismissed with a lazy “it’s fine.” Why should I let this night go to waste? I shot a text to my best friend, Maya, asking if she was up for our favorite rooftop bar. I was barely halfway through a glass of whiskey when she leaned in close. “Did you hear? Kate got back yesterday!” I’d seen that name so many times. Kate. Aiden’s first love, a secret he’d guarded for seven years. The person he would sneak off to see, even if it meant lying to me. So many of our fights, so many shattered dishes, had been because of her. She didn’t even have to be in the room. The mere mention of “first love” was enough to burn me. Aiden claimed matching tattoos were tacky. But the elegant Arabic script on the back of his neck was Kate’s birthday. Aiden scoffed at celebrating New Year’s Eve, calling it pointless. But the combination to his safe was the date Kate moved abroad. Every single upscale Italian restaurant he took me to? They were the same ones he used to take Kate to. He’d praise my cooking, telling me the soup was perfectly seasoned. Then I’d overhear him telling his friends, “It’s not as good as the one Kate’s housekeeper used to make.” He hated when I was “nosy” or “overbearing.” But tucked away in a hidden flap of his wallet was a faded photograph—of him, drenched in rain, holding an umbrella over Kate, expecting nothing in return. I pieced together their past from the details he tried so desperately to hide. I’d drive myself crazy wondering if I wasn’t pretty enough, if my family wasn’t powerful enough. Wondering why he treated me with such casual disregard. Across the table, Maya chewed on her straw, her eyes fixed on me. “The same night you found that card, someone saw him picking her up from the airport. They sat in his car for over forty minutes.” “My Josh was trying to keep it from me… he was afraid you’d have a meltdown before the wedding…” Maya’s fiancé, Josh, was Aiden’s best friend. They’d known each other since they were in diapers. “Annie, are you really going through with this? Is he worth it?” “I told you from the start he had someone else on his mind! You’re a Hawthorne, for God’s sake! What have you ever lacked in your life that you have to take this crap from him?” I tilted my head back and swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, the fiery liquid searing my throat. “Why else? I just hate to lose.” But this time, I had to admit defeat. I was learning that truly letting go doesn’t require a dramatic, soul-tearing scene. 2 Later that night, Josh came to pick up a very drunk Maya. “Babe, are you sure you’re okay? I can call your driver…” I just waved her off, a wave of nausea churning in my stomach. I used to watch them, so sickeningly sweet together, and then look at Aiden and me. We were like a business merger. Why? It was simple. He just didn’t care that much. Aiden himself had told me he hated how I always tried to manage things, that he found me clingy. And yet, he still set a date for our engagement. And like a fool, I thought that meant I was special. Turns out, he was just shopping for a trophy wife. I don’t know how long I’d been crouched there when a familiar, grating voice cut through the haze. I squinted, looking towards the neon glow of the bar’s sign. Aiden had his arm around a woman in a slinky slip dress and a thin cardigan, his touch impossibly gentle. “Kate, wait here, okay? I’ll get the car.” I stayed hidden by the manicured shrubs, my body curled into a tight ball. I watched him help her onto a bench, watched him pull out his phone to make a call. A second later, my own phone buzzed to life. His head snapped in my direction, his eyes unreadable in the dark. He waited, a full minute ticking by. I didn’t stumble towards him and throw my arms around him like I usually did when I was drunk. It was he who broke the silence, his brow furrowed in irritation. “Annelise!” He strode over, looming above me. I could see the tight line of his jaw, as if someone had deeply pissed him off. “Don’t you have anything to say?” I paused, then shook my head. “Get up.” He grabbed my arm, his face a frozen mask, and began pulling me toward his car. He didn’t ask a single question. Not why I was here, slumped on the pavement, drowning myself in alcohol. And I didn’t ask who the woman by his side was. The silence in the car was suffocating, a heavy weight on my chest. From the rearview mirror, Kate glanced at me. Her cheeks were flushed in a perfectly demure, picturesque state of drunkenness. “Aiden, I think I’m going to be sick,” she murmured. He cracked the sunroof, his voice softer and more tender than I had ever heard it. “You can’t hold your liquor, but you still act tough.” Kate let out a soft, breathy laugh, her words laced with flirtation. “But I was so happy today. What’s wrong with a few extra drinks?” “So many years, and you still love to boss me around.” They had been high school sweethearts. A seven-year history separated by graduation and distance. The first time the sight of her name felt like a physical sting was when I found her old selfies still saved in Aiden’s phone. “Just a cache-clearing error,” he’d said. I’d wanted to believe him. Everyone has a past, right? How could a seven-year-old high school romance still have a hold on the man who was about to become my fiancé? Back then, I was still confident. I was sure I was better than her. But the moment I started comparing myself to her, I had already lost. They chatted endlessly about the old days, their voices a low murmur in the front seat, while I sat in the back, completely invisible. Wind whipped through the car, blurring the familiar city lights as they rushed by. We passed the French bistro where we’d had our first date. The lights were still on. I remember my card being declined when the bill came. I was fumbling through my purse, flustered, when he gently pressed my hand down and paid. He must have thought I was shy, because he secretly laced his fingers through mine and held my hand the entire way home. My heart had hammered against my ribs. I thought, this is him. This is the one. My dizzy mind kept drifting back to the time before our engagement. When I was most in love with Aiden, I used to fantasize about what it would have been like if I’d met him years earlier. Later, when he was at his coldest, I’d find myself wishing we had never met at all. And now? Now, I felt nothing. When I blinked my eyes open, the car was parked in front of the villa. Kate was gone. Aiden’s arm was draped over the steering wheel, the cherry of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. “Annelise,” he said, his voice low. “Are you done with your little tantrum?” I sat up, confused. “I was with you picking out rings just this afternoon. Who was tonight’s performance for?” His voice was tight with suppressed anger. I had no idea what he was so mad about. The only thing I could think of was that I had interrupted his reunion with his long-lost love. “I didn’t ask you to come and get me.” He let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Oh? Then who were you putting on that pathetic, drunken show for?” “I wasn’t drunk.” My voice was quiet. “And even if you hadn’t shown up, there are plenty of people who would have been thrilled to take me home.” 3 Aiden’s eyes narrowed, his words dripping with venom. “Who? Some rich idiot you picked up at the bar?” He scanned me from head to toe, his gaze making me feel like garbage. “Annelise, use your head for once. Dressed like that, out on your own… what do you think a guy like that wants from you?” “If I hadn’t shown up, you’d have been somebody’s easy prey by now.” “If you want my attention, can’t you at least try a method with a little more class?” There was a time I’d drunk myself into the hospital, just hoping he’d show up and yell at me. Now I understood. That was just me, indulging in my own pathetic fantasy. “Aiden, you’re being overly dramatic.” He didn’t believe a word of it, his expression dark and stormy. “There’s nothing I hate more than a woman who causes a scene when she’s drunk. I don’t have time to clean up your messes.” Maybe it was the alcohol numbing my nerves, or maybe I truly didn’t care anymore. “Try this stunt again, and even if you have Josh call me, I’ll block you instantly.” “Fine.” I turned and walked away, my heels clicking on the pavement as I headed for the elevator alone. The next day, I woke up around noon with a splitting hangover. My phone was flooded with unread messages. But not a single one from Aiden. He was never one for texting, but I always found myself instinctively checking for his name first. Eventually, I just set his notifications to silent. To stop myself from being an idiot. Maya sent me a screenshot. It was a post from Kate, uploaded in the dead of night. A blurry photo of the city skyline. No caption. But there, among the likes, was Aiden—who never liked anything—with an instant reaction. And a comment: It gets cold at night. Dress warm. Suddenly, my doorbell began to ring, loud and insistent. I opened it to find Aiden standing there. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. “What are you doing here?” My surprise must have been too obvious. Aiden’s lips twitched into a semblance of a smile as he poked my shoulder with his finger. “Here. Brought you something.” I stared at the bag in his hand—hangover medication—and said nothing. This was his pattern. A slap, followed by a piece of candy. But I was too tired to analyze it anymore. I took the bag and said, “Thanks.” “That’s it?” Aiden leaned against the doorframe, the faint warmth in his eyes vanishing in an instant. “Is there something else?” I asked. As if hell had frozen over, he actually offered an explanation. “I picked her up yesterday because I’m the only person she really knows here.” He stared at my face, his gaze so intense it felt like he was trying to bore a hole through me. “Annie, Kate and I are ancient history. We’re just old classmates now, that’s all.” “Don’t go looking for trouble where there isn’t any.” “I booked a table at that French place. I’ll make it up to you.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to. It’s over.” “Besides, I already have plans today.” Aiden was visibly stunned. He probably never imagined I would refuse him. His face instantly turned to ice. “Suit yourself.” But what were the chances? The French restaurant he had booked was the same one where I had plans. Beside him, Kate batted her eyelashes, her voice cloying and sweet. “Aiden, why is your fiancée having dinner with another man?” My eyes met Aiden’s for a fleeting second before I looked away. He glanced at the man in the bespoke suit sitting across from me, his expression a perfect mask of indifference. “What’s it to me?” Kate giggled, her tone laced with meaning. “Not jealous at all?” “I remember back in school, you cornered a guy in the bathroom just for picking up my pencil.” “I used to say you were the reincarnation of the green-eyed monster. You even threw my notebook, remember?” You only get jealous when you care. Aiden could probably watch me sleep with another man and not even blink. His ocean had never stirred with a single wave for me. Then, at four in the morning, a notification popped up from our perpetually silent chat. [?] [Is that guy really your new flame?] [Did you seriously pick him up in a bar?] [Annie, you’ve grown bold.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384330”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I poured every resource I had into taking my fiancée’s company public. But on the day of the IPO, she stood on stage, live for the whole world to see, and announced, “Yes, we’re having a baby.” My shock quickly turned to pure joy. I was about to join her on stage when her male assistant beat me to it. They kissed, right there in front of the cameras, their hands intertwined. On their ring fingers were matching, one-of-a-kind custom diamond rings, symbolizing a love meant to last a lifetime. When I confronted her later, her voice was laced with indifference. “This was always a business arrangement, Landon. Why do you care what I do in my private life? Did you really think a little money could buy you love?” A cold smile touched my lips. I finally understood. She was cutting me loose now that the job was done. I don’t know if money can buy love. But it was more than enough to buy her company’s ruin. 1 I immediately dumped every share I owned of Jenna’s company. In less than ten minutes, the stock hit rock bottom. The trading screen was a sea of red. Jenna stormed in, her face a mask of fury, her hand raised to strike me. “Are you insane? Don’t you forget you’re a shareholder too! If this company goes bankrupt, every penny you invested will be gone!” I just smiled faintly. “Didn’t you say I have more money than I know what to do with? I’d rather lose it all than raise another man’s child.” Jenna’s face went pale, but before she could speak, the man beside her, Ryan, cut in. “Landon, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I had too much to drink that night. I’m the one to blame. Please, don’t fight because of me.” Jenna shot me a venomous look. “The baby was an accident. If you have a problem, take it up with me. What kind of man throws his weight around like this?” An accident? The nerve she had to even say it. I could see she had zero remorse. I pulled out my phone and called my assistant. “Buy up every share of our main competitor to Jenna’s company. Don’t stop until we’ve shorted her company into the ground.” Jenna finally snapped. “What the hell do you want?” she roared. “You have two choices. Get rid of the baby, or watch your company burn.” That afternoon, she sent me a copy of a medical report confirming a terminated pregnancy. Only then did I calmly instruct my assistant to start reinvesting. Then, using my authority as the largest shareholder, I fired Ryan. I forwarded the termination notice to Jenna, expecting a storm of angry texts and calls. But there was nothing. She didn’t even reply. I knew she must hate my guts right now, but I didn’t care. As she said, our relationship was a contract. My grandmother’s health was failing. Her last wish, from her hospital bed, was to see me married. Just as I was wondering where I’d ever find a wife, Jenna walked into my life. She was like a ray of sunshine. She’d leave little love notes on my desk when I worked late and would be the first person at the airport with a bouquet of flowers when I returned from an overseas trip. So, when she made her company’s IPO a condition of our engagement, I agreed without hesitation. I thought my investment would at least earn me a partnership built on mutual respect. I never imagined she would use me to build her empire, only to turn around and sleep with her assistant. Just then, a text came in from my grandmother. She was being discharged today and wanted me to bring Jenna home for dinner. I tried calling Jenna, but her phone was off. My texts went unanswered. Remembering the medical report from the clinic, a flicker of worry ignited within me. What if something had gone wrong? I grabbed my keys and drove home. The moment I walked through the door, I saw him. Ryan, shirtless on my sofa, and Jenna, her face flushed, her clothes disheveled. I couldn’t believe it. She’d had a major medical procedure just hours ago, and this was the first thing she did. My sudden appearance startled them. Jenna frantically pulled a blanket over herself, a flicker of panic in her eyes. “You’re home! You didn’t say you were coming.” “Ryan was just… helping me. I spilled something on my shirt. Don’t get the wrong idea.” Her excuse was so flimsy it was insulting. I let out a cold laugh. “Does wiping something down require taking off your shirt? Must have been a nasty spill.” Jenna’s brow furrowed, sensing the ice in my tone. Before she could retort, Ryan had pulled on his clothes and was bowing to me, a picture of false contrition. “I’m sorry, Landon. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll leave right now.” My eyes caught on the suit he was wearing. It was a bespoke piece from an exclusive brand that only created custom pieces for its members. Eighty percent of my wardrobe came from them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where he’d gotten it. A wave of nausea washed over me. I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Take it off,” I said, my voice hard as steel. Jenna’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Landon, are you sick? You want him to walk out of here naked?” “It’s my suit. Don’t I have the right to decide what happens to it? Or should I just call the police and have this thief arrested for breaking and entering and theft?” That did it. Jenna slapped me, hard. “It’s just a suit! Why are you making such a scene?” She stalked towards me, the angry red marks of passion still visible on her neck. She pulled a couple of crisp hundred-dollar bills from her wallet and threw them in my face. “Consider it sold. Happy now?” The sharp edge of the bill sliced a thin line across my cheek. Ryan gasped and handed me a tissue. As he leaned in, he whispered, his voice low enough for only me to hear: “You don’t know, do you? Jenna never got rid of the baby. The report she sent you? I had it faked.” “She didn’t just give me your clothes. She wants you to raise my child for me.” His eyes were gleaming with challenge. That was the last straw. I swung, my fist connecting squarely with his jaw. “You son of a bitch.” Jenna screamed and grabbed a heavy vase from the table, smashing it against the back of my head. Crack. The world went dizzy for a second before she shoved me with all her might. I crumpled to the floor. I felt a warm, slick liquid trickling down my neck. I reached up and my hand came away covered in blood. Jenna was already fussing over Ryan, helping him up, her face etched with concern. She hadn’t even looked at me. It was only when she saw the blood on my hand that her eyes widened in surprise. But her voice was still dripping with that same arrogant impatience. “I guess I’ve been too nice to you. You actually dared to hit him? Landon, do you have any idea…” I cut her off. “You never had the procedure, did you, Jenna?” She was momentarily speechless, then glared at me. “I sent you the report, didn’t I? What more do you want? If you’re not going to believe me, then maybe we shouldn’t get married at all!” She stormed out with Ryan, knocking over a pair of ceramic dolls we kept by the door. We’d made them together in the early days of her company, a memento of our shared dream. She’d said they were like us—bound together forever, destined to build something great. Now, she had shattered the one thing that symbolized us. I had given her chances. But for him, she had crossed every line, lied to me, and played me for a fool. I was done making concessions. If the basic trust between us was gone, then there was no point in a wedding. I called my assistant and cancelled everything. I’d just finished bandaging my head, trying to figure out how to break the news to my grandmother, when a call came from the family estate. It was our butler, his voice frantic. “Mr. Landon, you need to get to the hospital, now! It’s your grandmother—a massive heart attack!” My mind went blank. I didn’t even bother to change my shoes as I bolted out the door. On the way to the hospital, I learned what had happened. My grandmother had prepared a huge dinner, waiting for us to come home. Instead, she received a package from Ryan. It contained Jenna’s prenatal reports and a collection of graphic photos of the two of them together. To make matters worse, Ryan had gone online, smearing my name, claiming I was the third party who had used my power and influence to break them up. The shock was too much for her. Her old heart condition flared up, and she was rushed to the emergency room. My grandmother was the only family I had left in the world. If anything happened to her, I would destroy Ryan. But fate is a cruel mistress. By the time I finally reached the hospital, a doctor was gently pulling a white sheet over my grandmother’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice full of pity. “We did everything we could.” My legs gave out. I stumbled to her bedside and took her hand, my vision blurring with tears. “Nana, wake up. We were supposed to have dinner together, remember?” Just yesterday morning, when she was discharged, her doctor had said she was fine. That with proper care, she would live to see me get married, to see her great-grandchildren. Now, she was just a cold, lifeless body. She would never open her eyes and look at me again. I was completely alone in the world. I buried my face in her cold hand and wept. I don’t know when Jenna appeared behind me, but I felt her hand on my shoulder. “People die, Landon. We have to move on.” Her words ignited a firestorm of rage within me. I turned, my eyes burning. “Isn’t this exactly what you and Ryan wanted? Why are you even here, pretending to care?” Jenna flinched, trying to explain. “I’m sad about Nana too, but this has nothing to do with Ryan. Can you stop acting like a rabid dog and lashing out at everyone?” I didn’t have the energy to argue. I told my assistant to arrange for my grandmother to be taken to the morgue. As I turned to leave, Jenna blocked my way. “I came to talk about the wedding.” “I want to hold it during the IPO celebration. It’s more efficient. But the media thinks Ryan and I are a couple now, so… I want him to stand in for you at the altar.” “Your grandmother is gone, so you don’t really need to be the groom, do you? We can just sign the papers privately.” She still had no idea I had cancelled everything. I looked at her and laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “No need. You two have a lovely wedding. I hope you’re both very happy together, you bitch and your dog.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384329”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband, Cole, went bankrupt. To keep from dragging me down with him, he tried to kill himself, over and over again. For five years, I gutted fish at the market by day and scavenged for recyclables by night, pregnant and trying to pay off his debts. One evening, as I was resting on a curb after clearing out a wealthy neighborhood’s recycling bins, I heard a baby’s cry from within my own womb. 【Mommy, stop picking up trash to support Daddy. He’s a huge liar! The mansion right behind you is his house. He’s the heir to the richest family in the city!】 【After you give birth, he’s going to say you failed his ‘poverty test.’ He’ll take me and have you thrown out of the hospital to freeze to death on the street!】 I sat there for a long time, my hand on my belly. Then I took out my phone and searched for the city’s wealthiest family. Under the “Family” section, a familiar face stared back at me. Cole’s. Son of the city’s richest man. He had been playing me for a fool for five long years. But what he didn’t know was that I was born with a unique gift. A blood curse. Any lie he told would come true within a month. 1 When I got back to our rundown apartment, Cole opened the door from the inside. He looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot, as if he were carrying the weight of the world. Seeing my blank expression, he pulled me into a tight hug, burying his face in my neck. “Honey, you’ve worked so hard.” “I managed to get some day labor at a construction site today. Made eighty bucks.” His gentle expression seemed so real, but I heard my baby’s indignant voice in my head. 【That jerk just climbed out of someone else’s bed, and now he’s pretending he was working!】 Instead of comforting him like I usually did, I found myself asking, “Did you go to a public bath? You smell… nice.” He smelled of a crisp, expensive cologne, not the sweat of a man who’d been hauling bricks all day. I had been so stupid, I’d never noticed before. Now, the scent just made my stomach churn. Cole’s body tensed. He looked up, his eyes welling with tears. “Honey, I’m so tired. Sometimes I just want to end it all. But I can’t bear to leave you and the baby.” Every time he said that, my heart would break. I would have done anything to earn more money to pay off his debts. I did the laundry. I cooked the meals. I paid the bills. When he complained that condoms were too expensive, I offered to get an IUD. He was probably laughing at how pathetic I was, even then. When he proposed, he had gotten down on one knee and promised me, “Stella, I will cherish you for the rest of my life. I’ll work hard so you’ll never have to suffer.” Not a single word of it had been true. Cole. All you’ve ever given me is pain and betrayal. I looked at his face, at his carefully crafted expression of devotion, and said calmly, “Then let’s just stop. We owe so much, we’ll never pay it back in a lifetime.” “The three of us can just die together. At least we’ll have each other on the other side.” Cole froze, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Honey, what are you talking about? I have to live, for you and the baby!” He had no intention of dying. This whole charade was just a way to manipulate me into working myself to the bone for him. I fought back the nausea and reached out, patting his back reassuringly. My fingers brushed against his shirt. The fabric was soft and fine, definitely not something from a discount store. Cole, thinking he had fooled me again, let out a sigh of relief and was about to launch into another sentimental speech. The flimsy door was kicked open. A glamorous woman with a group of burly men stormed in. “Cole, I know you got paid today. Stop playing dead!” This was Melissa, the “debt collector” Cole had told me about. 【Mommy, that’s Daddy’s adopted sister. They’re both in on it, playing you for a fool!】 A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I watched as the men ransacked our tiny apartment, grabbing the few hundred dollars I had earned that day from the market and from collecting cans. The woman wrinkled her nose in disgust and threw the money on the floor. “It stinks of fish. Your wife is disgusting.” She pointed the toe of her expensive high-heeled shoe at me. “Fishmonger. Lick my shoe clean. If you do a good job, I might let you off the hook for a little bit.” Cole sighed. “Honey, I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” When I didn’t move, one of the men grabbed my hair and slammed my face to the ground. Tears streamed down my face, not from weakness, but from the searing pain of pure hatred. Melissa seemed to lose interest. “Forget it,” she scoffed. “You’ll just get my shoe dirty.” Cole quickly pushed me into the bedroom and locked the door. “Honey, it’s my fault you’re in this mess. Let me deal with them.” It was quiet for a moment, and then I heard a woman’s voice, deliberately lowered. It was Melissa, her voice a seductive purr. “If Stella finds out we’ve been lying to her this whole time, you know how stubborn she is. Do you think she’ll try to get revenge?” Cole’s voice was laced with contempt. “She wouldn’t dare. She’s madly in love with me. She’d do anything for me. We made a bet to see how long she’d last, and it’s been almost five years. She’s still gutting fish and picking up trash like a fool.” Melissa giggled. “It was just a stupid game, a bet to see if you could pretend to be poor with the first person you met until they figured it out.” “You’re a master, Cole. You’ve played the part so well. You’ve got Stella trained like a dog.” “Remember that time we went to the Maldives? You pretended you’d been kidnapped by debt collectors, and she went crazy looking for you. She spent days at a temple, praying for your safety.” We met when Cole saved me from being harassed at a restaurant. But from the very beginning, it was all a lie. I had prayed so hard for him, my forehead bruised from bowing, begging the heavens to keep him safe. And it was all just a game to him. “So what’s the plan? Are you really going to let her pay off your ‘debt’? I’m getting tired of this act.” Cole’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “You have trouble conceiving, you know that. We’ll wait until she has the baby, I’ll have it legally registered under your name, and then I’ll find a way to get rid of her.” My baby’s tearful voice echoed in my mind. 【Mommy, I’ll be a good baby. I don’t want that bad woman to raise me!】 My heart felt like it had been plunged into a vat of ice. Tears streamed down my face, but I was smiling, a silent, mirthless smile. Cole didn’t know it, but his good days were numbered. Three days. That’s all I needed. Three days by his side, and my blood curse would make his lies a reality. I was going to watch him lose everything. The next morning, Cole saw that I wasn’t getting ready for the market. “Honey, are you too tired?” he asked, his voice filled with fake concern. “Don’t go in today. Just rest.” I dodged his outstretched hand. “I’m going to the hospital to see Mrs. Gable.” After my parents died in a car crash, I was sent to an orphanage. Mrs. Gable, the director, had taken care of me, especially when I was sick. She was the only family I had left. For five years, I had been so consumed with paying Cole’s debts that I hadn’t even visited her once. Yesterday, one of the staff members had called. Mrs. Gable had a massive heart attack and needed emergency surgery. Cole took the earliest bus with me to the hospital, playing the part of the perfect, caring husband. Mrs. Gable took my hand and slipped a jade bracelet onto my wrist. “Stella, my dear, you’re so thin! What have you been doing to yourself?” “This bracelet has been in my family for generations. You’re like a granddaughter to me. If I don’t make it, I want you to have this to remember me by.” Before I could even say a few words, a doctor called me out of the room. The surgery was going to cost fifty thousand dollars. My hands trembling, I grabbed Cole’s arm. “The bank card I gave you—that’s for next month’s payment. Give it to me. I’ll earn it back, I promise!” Cole’s expression froze. “Honey… they took the card yesterday…” Tears welled in his eyes. “It’s all my fault. I’m so useless. I can’t save her.” 【Mommy, he’s lying! He gave the money to Melissa to buy a new handbag!】 I pulled my hand away from his. The last shred of hope I had been clinging to vanished. Even now, he was still acting. The doctor looked at my malnourished frame and sighed. “We need to have blood on standby for the surgery. If you have a rare blood type, we can waive some of the fees. You can figure out the rest later.” I grabbed onto that lifeline. Without a second thought, I was on the gurney, a needle in my arm. 200cc, 600cc… By the time they pulled the needle out, I was too weak to move. In a semi-conscious haze, I thought I heard Melissa’s high-pitched giggle. I must be hallucinating from the blood loss. I forced my eyes open and saw Cole and Melissa in the room across the hall. On the table between them were several bags of blood. My name, and Mrs. Gable’s, were written on the labels. Melissa pouted. “Cole, it’s such a waste to give this rare blood to that old woman. Why don’t we feed it to my pet snake?” They had stolen the blood that was meant to save Mrs. Gable’s life… to feed a snake. I wanted to storm in there and tear them apart, but my body wouldn’t move. Tears were the only thing I could manage. This was the man I had loved for five years. He was treating my life, and Mrs. Gable’s, like a joke. Melissa threw her arms around Cole. “Oh, Cole, you’re so good to me.” “It’s a good thing this hospital is owned by your family. You can do whatever you want here.” Cole smiled indulgently. “Anything for you, my dear. Without this blood, that old woman won’t make it off the operating table. It’s just her bad luck.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384328”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In elite circles, we were the infamous deaf-mute couple: Seraphina Beaumont, deaf, and I, mute. I married into her family five years ago. She gave me dignity and even got an IUD for my “ultimate worry-free experience.” Then one night, drunk, she asked for medicine. I arrived to hear her laughing with friends: “Aren’t you tired of pretending to be deaf? That mute husband is convenient, but boring in bed—like fucking on mute!” Seraphina sipped her cocktail, smiling coldly. “He’s just a toy. A mute can’t talk, so I play wild and he never knows. When we fight, his sign language twists up—quiet and peaceful.” She added softly, “Him being mute means Hyde—our child raised abroad—will be the undisputed Beaumont heir.” My heart froze. The medicine dropped from my hand into the trash. If she wasn’t deaf, I didn’t need to be mute anymore. I turned and dialed a long-untouched number, my voice rough: “Bring down the Beaumont empire, and I’ll divorce her instantly.” 1 The woman on the other end of the line sounded intrigued. “Well, well. Look who finally came to his senses. While your wife was turning you into a city-wide joke, I was the only one who ever truly cared for you.” “Wait for me. It won’t take more than three days.” As I hung up, the sound of their laughter washed over me, a tidal wave of mockery. “Damn, Seraphina, you’re a genius,” one of her friends slurred. “You faked being deaf for five years just to get your grandfather to accept Hyde. Who knew a mute would just fall into your lap!” “Exactly! We all thought after you declared yourself ‘damaged goods,’ no one in our circle would touch you. Then this mute comes along and practically glues himself to you. Even paid a three-hundred-million-dollar dowry to marry in. I’ve never seen a bigger fool!” “And now that your and Hyde’s kid is old enough to walk and talk, it’s the perfect time to bring them back and claim the inheritance.” Through the crack in the door, I saw Seraphina lounging on the sofa. She traced the rim of her glass, her voice as cold as ice. “My child with Hyde will not be illegitimate.” “Grandfather’s birthday is in three days. It’s the perfect time for the Beaumont family to announce its new heir.” My heart felt like it had been ripped open, a gaping wound exposed to a howling wind. When I first learned of Seraphina’s “deafness,” my father had refused to approve our marriage. I knelt in the pouring rain for three days, but he wouldn’t budge. It was only after I collapsed with a raging fever, my voice gone, that I conspired with a doctor to convince my father I had become permanently mute. Only then did he consent to me marrying into the Beaumonts. To ensure I wouldn’t be mistreated, he gave me a dowry of three hundred million dollars. For five years, I never spoke a single word in her presence. I believed that two broken souls could find a unique resonance. Even in our most intimate moments, at the peak of passion, I would stifle every sound. But the truth was, her grand gesture of getting an IUD for my “ultimate experience” was nothing more than a calculated move to pave the way for her secret child. How absurd. The Seraphina I first met wasn’t like this. The girl who had given me her only tent during a blizzard was gone forever. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I opened it to a flood of images—dozens of photos of Seraphina with another man. There she was on our first anniversary, surfing in Phuket with him while I was at home, alone. There she was in our second year of marriage, claiming she was “too busy” with work in the US, when in reality she was giving birth to her and Hyde’s son. I kept scrolling. A photo with a date stamp caught my eye. It was the day I was rushed to the hospital with acute appendicitis. I had called her countless times, but she never answered. While I was lying in a cold hospital bed, writhing in pain, she was in America, celebrating her son’s first birthday. Photo after photo, a gallery of her betrayal. Then, a voice message played, shattering the last remnants of my pride. “You must be Seraphina’s mute husband. You poor thing. I bet you want to curse me out right now, but you just can’t, can you?” I trembled as I saved every piece of evidence. I sent one last message to the number I had called. “Three days. On her grandfather’s birthday, I want the bankruptcy of the Beaumont empire to be his birthday gift.” 2 The storm raged outside, rain lashing against the windows. There was a time when Seraphina would cuddle up to me during a thunderstorm, covering my ears and whispering, “Darling, are you scared?” Now, she was probably lost in another man’s arms. The bedroom door opened, and the mattress dipped beside me. In the darkness, I could smell the alcohol on her breath as she leaned close, her lips brushing my ear. “Hyde, darling, don’t worry,” she murmured in her sleep. “I’ve made you wait for five long years. I’ll make that pathetic mute give you back everything that was rightfully yours.” A wave of revulsion washed over me. Night after night, she had held me just like this. And all this time, it was never me she was holding. Tears welled in my eyes. Beside me, her breathing evened out into a deep sleep. I didn’t sleep at all. My mind drifted back to our first year of marriage. Seraphina had gotten pregnant with my child, and had it terminated without a second thought. “A mute has no right to be the father of my child,” she had said. I woke with a start, my shirt soaked in cold sweat. My phone rang. It was my father, his voice frantic. “Adrian, what is going on? Did you and Seraphina have a fight? All of our contracts with the Beaumonts were just cancelled overnight!” I wiped the sweat from my brow, a cold fury hardening in my eyes. I hadn’t expected her to move so quickly, to sever ties with my family to protect her son’s future. My mother’s tearful voice came on the line. “Adrian, your sister… she went to a club last night, and she hasn’t come home!” “What if something’s happened to her?” Before I could respond, another call came through, from an unknown number. I answered, and my sister’s terrified voice screamed from the other end. “Adrian, help me!” The line went dead. A moment later, a photo appeared on my screen. My sister’s hand was pinned to a table, a knife resting on her finger. It was poised to slice it off. Hyde’s voice, smooth and demonic, came through on a new call. “Mr. Alistair, your sister is being a bit… difficult. Should I take the index finger, or the ring finger?” “You know what, maybe I’ll just take them all. Oh, that’s right, you can’t talk. If you take too long, I’m afraid she might lose the whole hand.” Just before he hung up, I heard a sickening crack, followed by my sister’s bloodcurdling scream. 3 I threw on my clothes and raced to the club. I burst into the private room to find my sister crumpled on the floor, her face a bloody mess. A man’s leather shoe was pressing down on her cheek, grinding it into the carpet. She reached a trembling hand towards me, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Adrian… help… me…” I lunged towards her, but I was seized from behind by two large bodyguards. The click of high heels approached, and a familiar voice dripped with venom. “Mute. It seems I underestimated you. When did you start having me followed?” One of the bodyguards yanked my head back by the hair. I looked up into Seraphina’s furious eyes. Hyde kicked my sister away and turned to Seraphina with a wounded expression. “Seraphina, darling, you got here just in time. This little bitch was trying to grope me.” My sister crawled towards me, sobbing. “Adrian, I didn’t touch him! I swear!” Hyde added more fuel to the fire. “If you hadn’t shown up, I would have drunk that spiked cocktail she was trying to give me. I even heard her say she was going to have me dumped in an alley for anyone to find!” Seraphina didn’t even glance at me. With a flick of her wrist, her bodyguards slammed my sister’s face back to the floor. As I fought against their grip, I heard a sickening crunch. Seraphina had crushed my sister’s right hand—her piano hand—under the heel of her stiletto. A scream tore through the room. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My voice, unused for five years, ripped from my throat. “SE-RA-PHI-NA!” The room fell silent. Then, it erupted in laughter. “Look, Seraphina! You’ve shocked the mute into speaking!” “It’s a medical miracle! Ha!” A flicker of surprise crossed Seraphina’s face. As she stepped towards me, Hyde whined, “Darling, I’ve just come back, and someone’s already trying to hurt me. Who knows what they’ll try next!” I ignored the questioning look in Seraphina’s eyes and rushed to my sister, wiping the blood from her face with my sleeve. Her skin was raw and scraped. “Adrian,” she whispered, “I didn’t do it. It was a set-up.” I held her close, a wave of guilt washing over me. “I know. I know. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” Seraphina and Hyde walked past us, her arm linked through his. “This was just a warning,” she said, her voice cold. “Next time you send someone after Hyde, you can collect the body from the morgue.” As the door closed, Hyde shot me a look of pure triumph. I didn’t leave my sister’s side until she was stable in the hospital. Seraphina knew my sister. She knew she would never do something so sordid. But years of our shared life meant nothing against a few lies from Hyde. A voice message from him popped up on my phone. “So you can talk after all. What good does it do you? Seraphina still doesn’t want you.” “And just so we’re clear, I framed your sister on purpose. What are you going to do about it?” “Oh, and by the way, to make it up to me, Seraphina said she’s going to acquire your family’s company.” 4 A sense of dread washed over me. A moment later, a call came from my mother. “Adrian! Your father… the stress… he had a massive stroke! He’s in the emergency room!” The phone slipped from my fingers. I looked at my sister, unconscious in her hospital bed, and then ran for the ER. My mother was on her knees in the hallway, sobbing. “Please, let him be okay. Please, God, what did our family ever do to deserve this?” When she saw me, she scrambled to her feet and slapped me across the face. “This is your fault! You did this to your father, to your sister!” “I told you not to marry into that family, not to be their lapdog! But you wouldn’t listen! Are you happy now?” “The Alistair family is ruined! And it’s all because of you!” I held my mother as she collapsed, my own voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. Mom, I’m so sorry.” Her anger finally broke, replaced by despair. “Adrian, it was Seraphina. She cut off all our funding, blacklisted us with every bank.” “She drove us into a corner, and then she forced your father to sign over the company. The shock… it was too much. She’s a monster, Adrian. A monster!” She beat her fists against the floor until they were raw and bloody. I held her trembling body and made a silent vow. “Mom, I promise you. I will make Seraphina pay for this.” Just then, the red light above the ER doors went out. I helped my mother to her feet, and we stumbled towards the doors. A nurse pushed a gurney out, a white sheet covering the body. My heart stopped. “Doctor,” I stammered, “my father… he’s…” “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. It was an acute cerebral thrombosis. We couldn’t save him.” The rest of his words were a dull roar in my ears. My father… gone? My mother stared at me, her eyes wide with horror. “No! I don’t believe you! I don’t believe you!” She collapsed onto the gurney, her wails echoing through the silent hallway. “Honey, wake up! Please, wake up! What will we do without you?” Then, she went limp. My world shattered. “Quick, get her to a room! She’s fainted!” I watched as they lifted my mother onto another gurney, and I sank to the floor, my strength gone. In a single day, my father was dead. My mother and sister were in the hospital. Yesterday, everything was fine. And now… it was all gone. Seraphina. I hate you. I curled into a ball in the corner, on the verge of breaking. Then, my phone rang. Her number. “Tomorrow. Be at the Beaumont estate for my grandfather’s 80th birthday. Wear a suit. Oh, and bring your parents.” “I have an important announcement to make.” She hung up before I could say a word. The dead attending a party for the living. Fine. I’ll give you exactly what you want. The next day, the Beaumont estate was buzzing with activity. I walked through the grand entrance wearing a white funeral suit. In my hands, I held my father’s portrait. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. “What’s going on? Why is the Beaumonts’ son-in-law carrying his father’s portrait?” “How disrespectful! On Mr. Beaumont’s birthday, of all days!” When Seraphina saw me, she smashed her wine glass at my feet. “Adrian, are you trying to disgust me? How dare you curse your own father to death! You’re vile!” Her grandfather, trembling with rage, threw down his cane. “I was against letting Seraphina’s son into this family, but you… you have no class! You can’t buy breeding!” Hyde, dressed to the nines, stood with a small boy by his side. “Seraphina, darling, he’s not just disrespecting you. He’s disrespecting your grandfather!” Seraphina put her arm around Hyde, her other hand on the boy’s head. “Since everyone is here,” she announced, her voice ringing through the hall, “I have an important announcement to make.” “Adrian and I are divorced.” “And as you can see, this is my son. From this day forward, he is the heir to the Beaumont empire!” As a cheer went up from the crowd, a new voice, dripping with amusement, cut through the noise. “The Beaumont empire? What empire? What’s left for your son to inherit?” A moment later, Seraphina’s assistant ran in, his face pale with panic. “Ms. Beaumont! It’s over! We were set up! The company… it just went bankrupt!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384327”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel