Author: Momo Chan

Jack’s junior, Emma, got hounded by loan sharks. I tried to stop Jack from getting involved, but Emma was driven to suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills. Jack, unaffected, continued to plan our wedding. Until one day, after getting drunk, he tenderly caressed a photo of Emma and forced me to down a bottle of sleeping pills. He said if it weren’t for my cold, heartless, and selfish attitude, Emma wouldn’t have taken her own life. If I had a second chance, I wouldn’t meddle in their business anymore. I had been reborn—reborn to the day when James Hamilton started borrowing money all over the place for Emily Rose. Emily was his junior, and just like her name suggests, she was gentle and delicate, with features as pretty as a painting. But she had a father addicted to gambling, and over the years, he’d borrowed a huge amount of money from loan sharks. Unable to repay it, he took his own life, leaving behind a daughter who was hounded by creditors day and night. To be fair, James treated me well—everyone knew he loved me like no other. That’s why, in my previous life, when he started borrowing money for Emily, saying she was like a sister to him and he couldn’t bear to see her suffer, I didn’t think much of it. But Emily’s father owed over $8 million. Coming up with that kind of money was nearly impossible. Plus, these loan sharks weren’t exactly good people—you could lose more than just money if you got mixed up with them. Naturally, I didn’t want my soon-to-be-husband getting dragged into this mess, so I gave James all of my savings on the condition that he stop involving himself with Emily’s problems and focus on our wedding. But I never expected Emily would take her own life by overdosing on sleeping pills. When I heard the news, I felt a pang of sorrow. After all, she was just a young woman burdened with a father like that. James seemed sad for a brief moment, but he didn’t say much to me. What I couldn’t have imagined was that he would one day kill me for Emily. Now, as I looked at James standing anxiously before me, his last words to me before I died played on repeat in my mind. “I told you, Emily and I weren’t like that! Why, why couldn’t you just help her? “Your family’s got money, doesn’t it? You rich people never understand this kind of desperation. Clara, you’re selfish and heartless!” “You can watch her die and still expect me to marry someone as cold and cruel as you? “All rich people are scum!” Thinking back, I laughed. My family’s annual income was in the millions, and as their only child, my parents never liked James, who came from a rural background. They wanted me to marry someone more suitable, but I was so in love with James that they cut off my finances, hoping I’d come to my senses. But James resented me because I didn’t ask my family for money to save his precious junior. $8 million—did he really think I’d ruin my life just to help him and his little crush?

Seeing I hadn’t responded, James cupped my face tenderly. The expression I once loved now filled me with disgust. “Babe, you know I just feel sorry for her. She’s been through so much. You know how long we’ve known each other, and Emily really likes you too.” I brushed his hands off and said coldly, “I’m not getting money from my parents anymore because of you. Where would I get the money to give to you?” James didn’t seem to pick up on the sarcasm in my voice. “Babe, you’re their only child. If you explain the situation, your parents will definitely help, won’t they?” I shot back, “Do you like Emily?” For a second, guilt flickered across his eyes, but he quickly hid it. “How could I, babe? Everyone knows you’re the one I love most. Emily’s just my junior, and I feel sorry for her. That’s all. Don’t overthink it.” I stood up, not even glancing his way. “She’s your friend, not mine. I have no obligation to fix her family’s mess.” James frowned. “Clara, aren’t you the kindest, most understanding person? What’s happened to your empathy? Your family’s rich. Your parents are still alive and well, and they’ve got income. But Emily? Her mom’s been gone for years, and she’s stuck with a father like that. You’re acting like Marie Antoinette!” Saying that, he grabbed his debit card and stormed out, heading straight for Emily’s house. I couldn’t believe the audacity—how could James make it seem like all of Emily’s problems were somehow my fault? I quickly packed my bags and sent him a text: We’re done. Then, I blocked him from everything. This time, I wanted to see how long James could survive without my support. Right now, his company was still in its startup phase. In my past life, I knelt before my parents to help him, drank myself sick at business dinners, and gave my all for his company. And what did he do? Did he even love me? During those intimate nights, who was really on his mind—me, or his junior, Emily, who had already taken her own life?

I returned home with my bags, and my parents were visibly shocked. My dad huffed, “If you’re back because of him, you might as well leave. Your mom and I can’t stand the sight of you when it’s about him.” Seeing my parents healthy and alive, I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up. In my last life, after James killed me, how devastated must my parents have been when they found my body? At that thought, I collapsed at the doorway, sobbing uncontrollably. My mom nudged my dad and frowned. “This is your fault! Why do you have to be so harsh? Look at her, she’s crying her heart out.” I buried my face in my mom’s arms and cried until there was nothing left. Regret, bitterness, all of it poured out. “It’s okay, sweetie. What happened? Did James hurt you?” I nodded. “I… I broke up with him. I don’t love him anymore. I want to come home.” The look on my parents’ faces was priceless—they looked like they’d finally been freed from years of torment. Just to make sure, my dad cautiously asked, “You mean, the kind of breakup where you won’t be getting back together?” I smiled through my tears and nodded, then told them the whole story. My parents were furious. “I always knew that James was bad news! Your company, your future, everything—he made you put it all on the line. And now he has the nerve to turn it all back on you?” As my parents raged, I felt a pang of guilt. What had possessed me in my past life to throw my family aside for a man? “Welcome home, sweetheart. Welcome home.” My mom gently patted my back, soothing me the way she used to when I was a child. After such an overwhelming day, I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. The next morning, I woke up to find twenty missed calls from James and a new Instagram post from Emily. In the photo, she was sitting in the passenger seat of James’s car, with him lovingly wiping her tears. The caption read: No matter what happens, I’ll always be by your side. Even though I had braced myself for this, my heart still ached when I saw it. James and I had been together for six years, and people used to joke that if we didn’t end up getting married, they’d stop believing in love. I guess love really does change, doesn’t it? My phone buzzed with a message from Emily: Clara, I’m so sorry about that Instagram post. You know my family’s situation has been really complicated, and Jack… well, he just felt sorry for me, so he stayed with me last night. I heard you broke up with him, but please don’t let it be because of me. I’d feel so guilty. I didn’t respond. Emily’s manipulations were so transparent, I didn’t even want to bother. Posting that picture, then sending me this message—what did she expect me to do? Beg James to come back to me? Or storm into her place and slap her? Emma Miles was as disgusting as James, a two-faced backstabber.

I once accidentally came across some of the messages between James and Emily. “You’re such a great senior, I’m so envious of Clara for finding a boyfriend like you.” “Clara’s so lucky. She has a loving family and a boyfriend who dotes on her. I wish I could have the same.” And, of course, James ate it all up, insisting on treating her like a little sister—bringing her food when she was hungry, water when she was thirsty. When Megan heard that I’d broken up with James, she insisted on dragging me out to celebrate. Her lively energy was contagious, and soon, I found myself in a much better mood. “You have no idea how much I’ve hated James,” Megan said, grinning from ear to ear. “Ever since you started dating him, you’ve barely had time to grab lunch with me. Being blinded by love is how people start losing themselves—and you, my friend, were the poster child for that!” Hearing her ramble on, I pulled her close and nodded eagerly in agreement. “I’m sorry, I really was an idiot, okay? You happy now?” Megan finally nodded with satisfaction and proceeded to drag me into every luxury store in the mall. As I walked through the aisles, it struck me how much I had changed since dating James. I’d stopped being my own person, morphing into someone whose life revolved entirely around him. With his business just taking off, he was always strapped for cash, and I hadn’t visited these beloved stores in ages. “Hey, isn’t that James?” Megan suddenly gasped, her eyes wide. I followed her gaze and spotted James, along with Emily, who was pulling a suitcase behind her. They seemed to be sneaking around, as if they were up to something. I didn’t want anything to do with them anymore, but Megan’s curiosity got the best of her. She insisted we go check it out. We watched as they entered a second-hand luxury bag store, and a suspicion began forming in my mind. “Isn’t that the limited edition bag I got you two years ago for your birthday?” Megan pointed to a high-end bag on display inside. I frowned. I’d left behind some things at James’s place when I packed up, planning to send movers to retrieve them later. I hadn’t expected James to take my bag and sell it for Emily’s sake. Without hesitation, I walked into the store. The moment James saw me, his face went from guilty to gleeful in an instant. “Clara! What a surprise! I’ve been trying to reach you. I was planning to explain everything once I wrapped up a few things—” Whack! I didn’t wait for him to finish. My hand landed square on his cheek, and James stared at me, utterly stunned. Emily quickly stepped forward to tend to his reddened face. “Clara, how could you hit him? He’s—” Whack! Another slap, this time for Emily. “Hitting you was just something I did on impulse,” I said, voice cold. Megan burst out laughing, while the rest of the store turned to watch the spectacle unfold.

“Clara, you crazy woman! Why are you hitting Emily? What did she ever do to you?” James pushed Emily behind him, shielding her like a mother hen. I pointed to the display of bags. “You’re selling my things without permission. Did you even bother to ask me first?” James’s face turned crimson. “I’m just borrowing them. It’s not like I wasn’t going to give them back.” “Borrow my things without asking? Do you realize that’s called theft? And we’ve broken up, James. You don’t get to touch my stuff anymore.” “Clara, how could you be so shallow? They’re just bags! You can always buy more. But you can’t put a price on someone’s life. Are you really okay watching Emily get pushed to the edge?” James was growing more agitated by the second, as if I was the one at fault in all of this. I couldn’t believe how shameless he was. “You’re trying to guilt-trip me? Let me tell you something—I don’t fall for that.” By now, the surrounding crowd was whispering among themselves, phones raised to record. “First of all, we’re no longer together. Second, those are my bags. And lastly, whatever help you want to give your dear Emily is none of my concern. What’s next? If you marry someone and have kids, are you going to ask me to pay their college tuition too?” James was left speechless. He knew he was in the wrong, but with everyone filming, he couldn’t afford to dig himself deeper. Reluctantly, he muttered, “Fine. These three bags—I bought them. I have every right to sell them.” Megan and I were floored. What kind of twisted logic was that? Since when does a boyfriend get to take back gifts after a breakup? “Fine, sell them if you want,” I replied dismissively. I had no interest in prolonging the argument. I turned to the store manager and said, “The rest of the bags are mine. Please assess their resale value and transfer the amount to my account.” It seemed that James knew his company’s finances were stretched thin, so he’d resorted to sneaky tactics like this. Men like him always want everything, don’t they? “Clara, are you really going to break up with me? You’re 28 now. Do you even realize how old that is? If you leave me now, who’s going to want you? Look, I’ll make it simple. Ask your parents for $500,000 to pay off Emily’s debt, and we can work things out.” James said this seriously, as if he was doing me a huge favor. “You’re delusional, James. If anything, you were the one who got lucky with me.” Megan, unable to contain herself any longer, chimed in. “Plus, my brother’s 32, single, and practically a golden bachelor—tall, handsome, and rich. Clara will be way better off without you. Go run back to your little green-tea princess.” With that, Megan grabbed my arm, and we stormed out of the store without looking back.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294632”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic

After losing passion with my husband, I asked my best friend to help me relax. Little did I know, she would take me to a very different kind of club, and that night became an unforgettable turning point in my life… Yesterday, my husband Tom Bennett and I had a huge argument. The reason? His inappropriate closeness with a colleague. Tom works as an executive at Harper & Sons, a young and successful man, tall and handsome. Naturally, there are plenty of women with ulterior motives around him. This isn’t the first time we’ve fought over this. Yesterday, on a whim, I decided to surprise him at work with lunch. I walked in just in time to see a curvy woman leaning over his shoulder under the pretext of delivering documents, her low-cut blouse leaving little to the imagination. Rage bubbled up inside me, and we ended up having a fight right there in his office. Needless to say, it didn’t end well. That night, Tom didn’t come home. Every time we have a fight, he uses this tactic. I was shaking with anger and had no one to turn to. On a sudden impulse, I decided to visit my best friend, Rania Collins. Little did I know that this decision would change my life. Rania and I are very close, and we know each other’s door codes. I called her first, but there was no answer. Thinking she must have gone to bed early, I decided to head over anyway. When I arrived, I let myself in easily with her door code. But as I walked into the living room, I was met with the unmistakable sounds of passion coming from her bedroom. I was puzzled. Isn’t her husband, Lee, supposed to be away on a year-long business trip? How could he be back so soon? Then a strange thought crossed my mind. Rania was cheating! Without even thinking, I walked to her bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I saw two bodies entwined. The man’s body was young and muscular, his strong arms gripping Rania’s slim waist tightly. Her smooth, pale skin was pressed against his dark, toned physique, their bodies colliding with such intensity that I stood there, red-faced and frozen. Rania was indeed cheating! And with a younger man! It was the kind of thing I only ever fantasized about in my lonelier moments. But beneath my embarrassment, I realized something more. I was envious. After all these years of marriage, I had never truly experienced pleasure as a woman. Our marital life had always been rushed and unfulfilling. Deep down, I too had longed for a young, strong man who could release the tension I’d been carrying for so long. Just as I was lost in thought, I suddenly heard the bathroom door creak open behind me. A voice of surprise called out. “Who’s there?” My mind snapped back to reality. The sounds in the bedroom immediately stopped, and both Rania and the man turned to look at me. … “I… I didn’t mean to… I tried calling, but you didn’t answer, so I…” I stammered, embarrassed, trying to explain to Rania. But to my surprise, she waved it off nonchalantly, dismissing the two young men in the room before casually pulling me over to the sofa for a chat. “Another fight with Tom?” She didn’t seem fazed at all. Relieved that she wasn’t bothered by me seeing her earlier, I let out a deep breath and started pouring out my frustrations. But after hearing everything, she simply rolled her eyes at me in annoyance. “He’s out there flirting with other women. Why don’t you just find someone else?” I was shocked by her words. Then, without hesitation, she started telling me about the two young men from earlier. She said they were personal trainers. I’d heard of that sort of thing—personal trainers who, in reality, offered more than just fitness coaching. So naturally, I declined. But Rania wasn’t the least bit concerned. Instead, she casually showed me a video she had taken. In the video, she was lying on a soft hotel bed. At her feet, several shirtless, muscular men were kissing her legs… As her moans grew louder in the video, I looked away, blushing. … It was impossible not to feel tempted. But as an educated adult, I struggled to reconcile such morally questionable behavior. “I can’t… I’m married. What if Tom finds out…” “You’re still worried about Tom? Has he ever considered your feelings?” Rania interrupted, clearly frustrated, and pulled me up from the sofa. “Emily, I can’t stand your hesitation. You’re coming out with me right now!” That very night, I reluctantly put on the outfit Rania had chosen for me, and she took me to a club in Croydon Central.

Rania gave her name at the front desk, and we were escorted to a private lounge. The lighting was soft and suggestive, the decor luxurious—like a five-star hotel. In the dim glow of the large TV screen, I could make out several oversized sofas that looked more like beds, and three men dressed in minimal clothing. As soon as they saw us, they approached with warm smiles, politely taking our bags. “Good evening, ladies.” Their physiques were impressive, clearly the result of years of training. Their faces were handsome too, obviously carefully selected. I guess that was the specialty of this place. They wore only tight shorts, showing off their broad shoulders and firm abs. Seeing their bodies and the outlines beneath their shorts made me blush uncontrollably. Youth is truly something special. Rania had been quietly watching my reactions, and when she saw my flushed face, she smiled in satisfaction. “Oh, stop with the theatrics and get on with helping this lovely lady relax.” She gave me a playful push toward one of the men, winking suggestively. “Don’t be shy. You’re here now, so just let loose. No point wasting time over an unfaithful husband. From now on, you can both do your own thing!” “And what about you, Rania?” As she spoke, a dark-haired man came forward, grinning at her. His skin was a deep tan, and I recognized him immediately as the man I had seen in Rania’s bedroom earlier. His name was Luke Evans, according to Rania. Luke wrapped his arm around Rania’s neck and asked, “The usual?” “Of course, the usual.” Rania wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes filled with desire. “I didn’t quite get enough earlier. Let’s pick up where we left off.” “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied tonight.” Without a second thought, they started kissing passionately. Rania boldly pushed Luke onto the sofa and began undressing, her body moving sensuously. She’s really fearless. Luke was clearly aroused, his eyes dark with desire as he grabbed her, pulling her underneath him. The two of them had no qualms about engaging in their passion right in front of us, and soon the lounge was filled with the sounds of their pleasure. As their intensity grew, Rania’s legs stiffened, and her moans became uncontrollable. I could feel the man in front of me breathing heavily, his body reacting to the scene. “Aren’t you getting more excited with an audience?” “You seem to be too. I’ve never seen you so into it…” Though I’d been married for years, our physical relationship had always been…ordinary. Watching this explicit scene unfold in front of me, hearing the sounds of their bodies colliding, made my breath hitch. This was going too far… Rania, now flushed and delirious, turned her head towards me, panting as she whispered, “See, darling? There’s nothing to be afraid of. After all, Tom cheated on you first. Don’t you deserve to do the same?” With that, she wrapped her legs tightly around Luke’s waist. “Darling, let’s go to the back room. I want to try the new toys.” “Whatever you want, babe.” Luke lifted her into his arms, giving a knowing look to the young man beside me, and the three of them disappeared into the adjacent room. Soon, Rania’s excited voice could be heard through the walls. Hearing the noises from the other room, the man holding me, Ryan James, couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “Would you like to relax here first? Or shall we head straight in?” As he spoke, his hands slid naturally onto my hips, the heat of his body sending a shiver down my spine. “I… I don’t know.” I lowered my head, too nervous to meet his gaze. Ryan chuckled softly at my hesitation. “You’re so sweet. It’s your first time here, right? You must be shy. How about we go straight to the private room?” Even a fool could understand the implication behind his words, and once again, my face flushed. But this time, I didn’t resist. “Alright.”

The private room was set up with an intimate ambiance. Soft, golden lighting illuminated the round, canopied bed in the center of the room. Across from it was a large mirror, tall enough to reflect everything that happened on the bed. A few lace lingerie pieces were laid out on the bed. This kind of sensuality was something Tom had never introduced into our marriage. As I imagined what was about to happen, my heart pounded with anticipation. Noticing this, Ryan smiled and wrapped his arms around me. “You’re nervous, aren’t you? No need to be. Just think of me as your boyfriend.” I turned around and threw my arms around him, letting myself melt into his embrace. His body was firm and muscular, reminding me of my first love, the nervous excitement of touching someone so fit. Since getting married, I hadn’t felt this youthful energy, this rush of adrenaline, from being with a man. “So, you like my chest muscles, huh?” Ryan whispered teasingly in my ear, planting a soft kiss on my neck. “But I’ve got some pretty solid abs too. Want to feel them? Or maybe… somewhere else?” His voice grew more seductive, and his breath on my neck sent shivers through me. His hands started to roam, caressing my body with a deliberate slowness that made me feel like I was about to lose control. I felt overwhelmed, not knowing how to respond. My brain was screaming that this was wrong, that I was married, but my body had a mind of its own. My heart was pounding, my thoughts spinning as Ryan’s hands continued to explore. “But… I’m married,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Isn’t this… isn’t this wrong?” Even as I said the words, I could feel my resolve crumbling. I had already come this far. The memory of Tom’s distant, cold face flashed in my mind, making it hard to concentrate. My head was a mess of emotions, confusion, and guilt. “Is your husband good to you?” Ryan asked suddenly, his tone a bit more serious as his hand slipped to one of my more sensitive spots. I gasped at the sensation. My mind flashed to Tom’s indifference, the way he barely paid attention to me anymore, treating me like an afterthought. “I… I don’t know,” I replied, my voice faltering. “You do know, Emily,” Ryan said softly, “if he was treating you right, you wouldn’t be here. Would you?” His words hit me hard. In that moment, something inside me snapped. I began to cry softly, the tears falling against Ryan’s chest. Years of loneliness, frustration, and unmet desires seemed to pour out all at once. “Let me help you relax,” he whispered. “You’re so tense.” “…Okay,” I whispered, finally letting go of the last bit of resistance. I let him undress me, piece by piece, until there was nothing between us. His hands moved across my body, but instead of easing my tension, they only heightened the desire I had been suppressing for so long. It wasn’t long before I was lost in the sensation, everything else fading away as Ryan took me deeper into the moment. Just when I thought I had fully surrendered, I heard voices from the next room. It was Luke and Rania. “Babe, can you put this on?” I heard Luke’s voice through the thin walls. “I want to try the largest size.” Moments later, Rania’s voice followed, breathy and excited, “Yes, do it! I can’t wait.” I couldn’t believe it—they were using toys in there. I had known Rania was adventurous, but this was beyond anything I had imagined. She had always been more open-minded than I was. After all, she had spent years studying abroad, dating men from all sorts of backgrounds, including her ex, a blonde, blue-eyed European. Her open attitude toward sex didn’t surprise me, but the level of their play did. The sounds from the room were impossible to ignore. Rania’s moans, mixed with Luke’s gruff commands, filled the air. The wall between us was so thin, it felt like we were in the same room. Meanwhile, Ryan’s hands continued their work, and before long, I could feel my own body responding. The combination of his touch and the sounds from next door soon had me trembling.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I turned and kissed Ryan deeply, pulling him closer. The tension, the guilt, the uncertainty—it all melted away as I let myself fully indulge in the moment. We became a tangle of limbs, lost in each other, and soon, I was completely consumed by my desire. Just like Rania, I had given in. Ryan was incredibly experienced. His moves were smooth and confident, his hands knowing exactly where to touch. His stamina was something I hadn’t experienced in years. At first, I was able to keep up with him, even take the lead now and then. But when he reached over and pulled out a blindfold and some toys from the bedside drawer, I knew I was out of my league. The things he had were on another level. I started to panic, trying to back away, but he was too strong. His body was overpowering, and soon, I was under him again, my mind surrendering to the overwhelming sensations. “Don’t think about anything, Emily,” he whispered in my ear. “Just enjoy.” Eventually, I lost track of time, and everything became a blur. Ryan was relentless, and before I knew it, I had lost all sense of reality. At some point, I felt him lift me up, and I opened my eyes, realizing he was carrying me out of the room. “Where… where are we going?” I asked, still dazed and confused. He didn’t answer. Instead, I felt a sudden chill on my back, and I realized he had placed me on a cold surface. I looked around and saw that he had carried me out of the private room and into the main lounge area. I was lying on a large table, right in front of the glass window looking out into the corridor. Ryan didn’t stop. He positioned himself over me again, a playful smirk on his face. “Exciting, isn’t it, Emily?” he asked. I bit my lip, too overwhelmed to answer, as my body gave in once again to the intensity of the moment. “I wish my husband was half as passionate as you…” I admitted, my voice trembling. Hearing that seemed to fuel Ryan even more. His grip on me tightened, and soon, I was swept up in another wave of pleasure, oblivious to everything around us. But just as I was about to reach my peak, I heard footsteps approaching. I turned my head to see Rania and Luke entering the room. They had clearly finished, their faces flushed and satisfied. Rania’s hair was tousled, and her smile was one of pure contentment. To my surprise, they weren’t the only ones. In the other corners of the room, more couples were entangled in their own pleasures. The lounge was now filled with the sound of multiple people, all lost in their own world. My gaze locked on Rania, who was now completely caught up with Luke, their bodies moving together again. Compared to Ryan, Luke was more intense, more aggressive. Watching them, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be with Luke instead. He had been eyeing me earlier, and I knew he was attracted to me. The way his eyes lingered on me when I first walked into the lounge had sent a thrill through me. He looked like a predator eyeing his prey. And although I seemed reserved on the outside, I secretly longed for something more intense. Tom had never been able to satisfy me like that. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I pushed it away. No—I couldn’t let myself go that far. However, Ryan, who had noticed the way I was staring at Rania and Luke, paused. He leaned in closer, whispering in my ear, “Do you want to try something new?” “What do you mean?” I asked, suddenly alert. Ryan’s eyes met Luke’s across the room, and without a word, they exchanged a knowing glance. I immediately knew what they were suggesting. But this was too much. I couldn’t possibly… could I? I turned to Rania, hoping she would intervene, but instead, she seemed excited by the idea. She even encouraged them to go ahead and start. “Come on, Emily,” she coaxed. “You’re already here. Why not live a little?” I hesitated, my mind a whirlwind of fear and temptation. And after a few moments of gentle persuasion, I found myself agreeing, drawn deeper into the dangerous thrill of the night.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294631”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic

Recently, I’ve discovered something strange. The daughter I painstakingly carried for nine months looks exactly like my husband’s late first love! 1、 This weekend was Eric’s middle school reunion. Eric’s family home is in another city, and since his parents passed away a few years ago, we hadn’t gone back since our wedding. This reunion seemed like a good chance to visit his old home. Originally, he was supposed to go alone, but our six-year-old daughter, Lily, insisted on going with her dad. Left with no choice, I drove there as well. Before the event started, I went to the restroom, leaving Eric to look after Lily. Some of his middle school friends came over to chat with him. From a distance, I overheard one of them say, “Is this your kid with Sophie? She looks just like her mom.” Sophie—Eric’s first girlfriend. “Wow, Eric! You really managed to win over the goddess. Why didn’t you invite us to the wedding?” It was meant as a joke, but I saw Eric’s expression change. He took a step forward and shielded Lily behind him. “You’re mistaken. Sophie passed away eight years ago.” Then, noticing me, Eric quickly led Lily over and linked his arm with mine. “This is my wife, Charisse.” I pretended not to hear the earlier conversation and smiled warmly at his friends. His friends awkwardly scratched their noses, afraid that I had overheard. They quickly changed the subject. As the night went on, the chatter and drinks flowed, but my mind kept replaying that one comment from his friend. That’s when I realized… my daughter, Lily, doesn’t really look like me. Lily’s lips and eyebrows resemble Eric’s, as if they were cut from the same mold. But while both Eric and I have almond-shaped eyes, our daughter has big, round eyes. And her face shape—Eric and I both have long, oval faces, but Lily’s face is round and square. I had always assumed she hadn’t grown into her features yet, that she just had a baby’s chubby, round face. But after what his friend said, I vaguely recalled the photo of Sophie that Eric kept in his wallet—round face, big eyes. So, Lily looks more like Eric and Sophie than me! Not like me at all. That realization sent chills down my spine. But just as quickly, I laughed at myself for overthinking. After all, Sophie had been dead for eight years, and Lily was only six. How could the daughter I carried for nine months not be mine? Eric never hid anything about Sophie from me. When we met, Sophie had already passed away. He couldn’t forget her, but under pressure from his family to marry, he reluctantly agreed to go on a blind date. At that first meeting, he told me their tragic love story, and I even teared up listening to it. I was focused on my career and wasn’t bothered by the fact that he still had feelings for Sophie. I just wanted to find a good man, and we clicked. Less than a year after we got married, we had our daughter, Lily. Our marriage has been pretty sweet, and we’ve hardly argued about anything, except for one thing—our daughter’s nickname, Lily. So, the fact that Lily doesn’t look like me? I chalked it up to a passing thought, and by the end of the reunion, I had forgotten all about it. But what happened next made me realize that maybe, just maybe… Lily really wasn’t my daughter. 2、 Lily just turned six, and after summer break, she’ll be starting first grade. We’d already enrolled her at Central Elementary School, which is conveniently close to home. According to the school’s rules, all incoming students must have a health check before starting the year. Eric was busy with work, so I didn’t mention it to him. I took Lily to New York General Hospital on my own. Lily was unusually quiet on the drive there, pouting and refusing to talk. “What’s wrong, Lily? Something bothering you? Can you tell Mommy?” She raised her chubby little face, “Mommy, Daddy won’t let me cut my hair, but I think short hair is cool. Long hair is uncomfortable! I’ve had long hair my whole life, and I want a new look for the new school year.” I had been so caught up in work that Eric had always taken care of Lily. Since she never brought it up, I hadn’t noticed that she had always had long hair. Even when it was hard to manage as a baby, Eric insisted she keep it. Now that she was older, it made sense that she’d want her own style. I didn’t want her to be upset over something small, so I said, “Alright, Lily. But you have to promise not to cry when they take your blood during the checkup, and then Mommy will take you to get your favorite haircut. Deal?” Lily was thrilled and eagerly agreed, “Deal!” The medical report wouldn’t be ready until the next day, so after the checkup, I took Lily to a nearby salon and got her the short haircut she wanted. I never expected the reaction I got from Eric when he came home that evening. The moment he saw Lily’s short hair, his face darkened, and he yelled at me. “Who told you to cut her hair?!” Lily was so scared she immediately hid behind me, nervously peeking at Eric’s angry expression. I was annoyed too. “Lily said long hair was uncomfortable, so I let her cut it. She likes it short. It’s not your hair, so why are you so mad? You’re scaring her.” Eric’s face was livid. Without even taking off his shoes, he strode past me and yanked Lily out from behind. “You like short hair?! Didn’t you promise Daddy you’d keep it long? Why did you cut it?!” Lily, just a child, had never seen her father so furious. She immediately burst into tears, crying out for me. My heart ached for her, and I quickly scooped her up, holding her close to comfort her. “What’s wrong with you? It’s just a haircut! Why are you acting like a madman? Look, you’ve scared her. I’m her mother. I can take her for a haircut if I want to.” Eric let out a cold laugh. “Now you remember you’re her mother? Have you ever taken care of her all these years?” I frowned. “Eric, didn’t we agree? After I had the baby, I wouldn’t stop working, and you promised to take care of her. Now you’re blaming me?” Eric realized he had overreacted and quickly changed his tone. “That’s not what I meant. I’ve been really stressed at work lately, and I took it out on you both. I’m sorry.” “Come here, Lily. Daddy’s sorry. Let me hug my little princess.” But Lily was too scared, still crying quietly in my arms. I ignored him, took Lily to her room, and she clung to me, asking me to stay with her for the night. I assumed she was just shaken, so I grabbed a pillow and stayed in her little room. But after telling her two bedtime stories, she still wouldn’t sleep. “Mommy, why do I have two mommies?” I frowned and gently asked, “What do you mean, Lily?” She blinked her big eyes, and what she said next hit me like a bolt of lightning. “The other night, Daddy thought I was asleep, and I heard him whispering that I’m looking more and more like my other mommy. He sounded happy, but he was crying when he said it.” “Mommy, who’s my other mommy? Why do I have two mommies?” 3、 I suppressed the anger rising inside me and managed to soothe Lily to sleep. When I got back to our bedroom, Eric was still awake. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at his wallet. I knew he was looking at Sophie’s picture again. Fury surged inside me, and I snatched the wallet from his hands. “Eric, she’s been dead for years! Can’t you let her rest in peace?!” Eric spoke through gritted teeth, “Charisse, I’m sorry about today. Let’s not fight. Lily’s asleep, and I’m not in the mood for this. Just give me back my wallet.” “Hah,” I scoffed, “You’re the one who can’t accept reality. Stop trying to drag my daughter into your fantasies! Wake up, Eric. Lily is my child, not yours and Sophie’s!” I threw the wallet at him, grabbed my pillow, and stormed off to our daughter’s room. I didn’t notice the flash of coldness in Eric’s eyes as I left. I spent the next day thinking about what Lily had said. It left me so drained I could barely focus at work. Luckily, I had my own office, so zoning out wasn’t an issue. During my lunch break, I went to New York General Hospital to pick up Lily’s medical report. Lily was perfectly healthy and ready to start school. I breathed a sigh of relief, but then something strange caught my eye. There was something off about the report. I laid it out on my desk and reviewed it carefully. What I saw made me gasp. Lily’s blood type was listed as B. But I’m type A, and Eric is type O. Based on basic biology, there’s no way we could have a child with type B blood! Suddenly, Lily’s words from last night echoed in my mind: “Why do I have two mommies?” And Eric’s friend’s joke from the reunion—“This kid looks just like Sophie.” Two mommies? An answer started forming in my mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. No. It couldn’t be. Sophie’s been dead for eight years! Lily was born after I carried her for nine months. I was there. I watched the doctor cut the umbilical cord myself. There couldn’t be a mistake. But the facts were staring me in the face, and I couldn’t ignore them. The room spun as the weight of everything hit me. I sank into my chair, trying to steady myself. Could the daughter I had raised all these years not be mine? It was absurd. Impossible. I refused to believe it. In the end, I decided to go back to the hospital. Maybe there was a mistake with the tests? I took the day off work and drove straight to the hospital. But when I got there, they confirmed that the results were accurate. No mistakes. Which meant there was something wrong with Lily. I wanted to ask Eric, but when I thought about his behavior last night, something didn’t sit right. Could he be involved? The thought sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t want to believe it, but it was the only explanation that made sense. Who else had access to switch my child? But why would Eric do that? If Lily isn’t my daughter, then whose child is she? She can’t be Sophie’s—Sophie’s been dead for eight years. How could a dead woman have a child? I had to stop myself from spiraling into endless what-ifs. Instead, I gathered some of Lily’s hair from her hairbrush, as well as samples from both Eric and me, and sent them to the DNA testing center. 4、 The results would take a week. During that week, I didn’t tell anyone what I had done, not wanting to raise suspicion. Instead, I found myself constantly watching Lily, trying to find any resemblance to me. But no matter how much I looked, the only similarity between us was that we were both female. There was nothing else that tied us together. Even my family’s characteristic olive skin hadn’t passed down to Lily. She was pale, with round eyes and a square face—nothing like me. I read everything I could about genetics. Even with strong genes from one parent, children usually share at least some traits with both parents. The week dragged on in agony, but finally, the results came in. The DNA test confirmed it. Lily wasn’t my biological daughter. But Eric… he was Lily’s father. The truth hit me like a bucket of ice water. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I stared at the results. I wasn’t Lily’s mother, but Eric was her father. So who was her mother? Sophie had been dead for years, which meant only one possibility: my loving husband had cheated on me either before or after I got pregnant. And this other woman had given birth around the same time and swapped her child for mine. I had raised someone else’s child all these years. But where was my child? What had happened to her? Rage flooded my chest. I drove home as fast as I could. Eric was playing with Lily’s Barbie dolls. She was brushing the doll’s hair when she saw me. She immediately dropped the doll and ran over to me, her sweet voice calling out, “Mommy!” But all I could think about was my missing daughter. Was she out there somewhere? Was she warm, well-fed? Could she be living as happily as Lily? I knew it wasn’t Lily’s fault, but it didn’t stop me from feeling a growing distance from her. Every time I looked at her, I thought of my own daughter, suffering somewhere, without me. I forced a smile and said, “Lily, be a good girl. Mommy needs to talk to Daddy. Go play with your dolls in your room for a bit, okay?” Lily looked up at me, then over at Eric. It seemed like she sensed something was wrong, but she obediently nodded and took her doll back to her room. Once I was sure she couldn’t hear us, I turned to Eric, fury burning inside me. He was sitting on the couch, looking confused. “What’s your problem now?” I forced myself to stay calm. Instead of slapping him like I wanted to, I pulled out the DNA results and Lily’s medical report. “Explain this, Eric.” He picked up the results, and his pupils shrank. His hands trembled slightly. “This… this can’t be right.” But he quickly regained his composure, setting the papers back down and giving me a smile. “That’s impossible. Lily is the daughter you carried for nine months. The DNA center must have made a mistake.” “How could she not be related to you?” “Charisse, have you been reading too many novels? We’re not some rich, powerful family where baby swaps happen. Why would anyone swap our child?” As I stared at his calm face, my heart turned to ice. Up until that moment, I had hoped he didn’t know. But seeing him now, I realized my darkest suspicion was true. He knew. He had known all along. And worse, he was the one who had done this. Eric was still rambling on. “There must be some mistake. We’ve raised Lily together all these years. How could she not be yours?” “How about this, Charisse? Let’s go together and get another test. The three of us.” 5、 I didn’t turn down his offer. We went to a larger hospital to get a second opinion. But I didn’t believe a word he said. I had already contacted the hospital where I gave birth, and they assured me that they had never had any cases of swapped babies. I even went to the doctor who had delivered Lily. He couldn’t believe what I was telling him. When I showed him the DNA results, he was visibly shocked. We reviewed the surveillance footage from my time in the hospital, going through it frame by frame. There was no sign of any wrongdoing there. The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Mrs. Williams, I’m so sorry about this, but I can personally vouch for this hospital. We’re a reputable institution. There’s no way a child could have been swapped here. But after you gave birth, you transferred to Riverside Family Care Center. Maybe you should check there. You might find your biological daughter.” The doctor had a point. It couldn’t have happened in the hospital. When I gave birth, I nearly died. After an emergency C-section, Eric had taken care of Lily. He had the time and opportunity to swap our daughter. But I still couldn’t understand why. Why would Eric do such a thing? And if Lily wasn’t our child, then who was she? I contacted Riverside Family Care Center next, but unfortunately, the video records from that time had long been lost. I was overwhelmed with exhaustion as I dragged myself home. Eric and Lily were waiting for me at the dinner table. The sight of a table full of food didn’t stir my appetite at all. Without warning, Eric set the new DNA results down in front of me. “See? I told you the hospital must have made a mistake. I’ve heard online that some shady DNA centers give everyone false results just to make a quick buck. Maybe that’s what happened to you.” Lily stared up at me with wide eyes. “Mommy, don’t you want me anymore?” My heart felt like it was going to burst. I forced the softest smile I could manage and said, “Mommy would never stop loving you, Lily. You’re too young to understand what’s going on right now. Why don’t you go back to your room, sweetheart?” Once Lily was out of earshot, I turned to Eric with a steely glare. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you tell her that? This is between you and me. Why drag a little girl into it?” Eric smiled and pushed the fake DNA results toward me again. “It wasn’t my choice. Lily’s been really upset these past few days. She thinks you don’t want her anymore. She hasn’t been eating well. I had to tell her the truth.” “You know she’s just a child. How do you expect her to process the idea that the mother who raised her might not be her biological mother?” “Look, the test results are out. Let’s stop fighting. I told you, the hospital made a mistake.” I scoffed. “You really think I’ll believe the results from a test you rigged? I didn’t tell you this earlier, but I sent all three of our DNA samples to a trusted lab. The results came back saying you and Lily are related, but she’s not mine. What lab would only fake one side of a test?” “Things have gone too far, Eric. You’d better tell me where my daughter is, or I swear I’ll take this to the police.” 6、 Eric’s face stiffened when he heard my words, but he quickly composed himself, still holding onto that feeble DNA test result. “Charisse, what’s going on with you? Are you under too much pressure at work, imagining things? Lily is our daughter, how could you even doubt her?” Before I could respond, Lily’s cries interrupted us. She ran over, clutching my leg. “Mommy, Mommy, don’t leave me. I’ll be good—please don’t leave me!” Her cries pierced my brain like needles. I had no choice but to pause the conversation with Eric, picking her up and gently soothing her. “Mommy’s not leaving you, Lily. Why would you think that? You’re Mommy’s precious baby. It’s not like what you’re thinking. Mommy and Daddy just have something to work through, but we would never stop loving you.” With Lily’s crying, Eric and I didn’t resolve anything that night. Lily clung to me, afraid that I’d leave her the moment she closed her eyes. She insisted on sleeping with me. I was just as eager to avoid sharing a room with Eric, so I took my pillow and blanket and went to Lily’s room. Even though Lily was exhausted, she was restless and wouldn’t fall asleep, even after I told her several stories. “Mommy, will I become an unwanted child?” I kissed her forehead. “What a silly thought, sweetheart. What mommy would ever abandon her own daughter?” “But Daddy said… Daddy said you don’t think I’m your real daughter anymore. And that you’re going to bring home a new sister. When that happens, you won’t love me anymore. You’ll leave me.” Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke. My heart ached as I held her tightly, emotions swirling inside me. Honestly, I knew Lily was innocent in all this, but every time I thought about how my real daughter might be suffering somewhere because of her, the pain became unbearable. I hated Eric for being so despicable. This was between us, yet he dragged an innocent child into it, trying to use her as leverage against me. But he was wrong—nothing could throw me off course. Lily peeked up from my embrace. “Mommy, please don’t leave me. Daddy’s been acting weird. He says strange things when he’s asleep, and he won’t let me cut my hair. I don’t want to live with just Daddy.” Weird things? I latched onto those words, my curiosity piqued. Because of work, Eric had always been the one to put Lily to bed. “What strange things has Daddy been saying, Lily? Can you tell Mommy?” Lily furrowed her little brow, thinking hard before quietly saying, “Daddy says he misses Mommy. Sometimes he even cries, saying how cruel Mommy was for leaving us. But you’re right here with us, Mommy.” Her voice grew smaller, and she nestled closer to me. “Mommy, Daddy is really strange. I don’t want to live with him alone. He even gives me baths when you’re not around and tells me not to tell you.” “What?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294630”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic

We broke up a year ago. Out of the blue, my ex-boyfriend, Jack Hart, decided to come back from the dead and text me. “Do you remember that lipstick you used to wear when we were together? What was the shade? I’m trying to buy one for my crush.” I paused for two seconds, then replied. “Oh, I forgot. You should ask one of your basketball teammates, he’s the one who bought it for me.” My phone stayed quiet for about two seconds before it started buzzing non-stop. “WTF!” “Who? Which teammate?” “Who the hell is it?!” “Answer me, I’m begging you.” I sent him a smirking emoji. “None of your business.” Friday night. I was happily slurping down my favorite mac & cheese when Jack decided to pop back into my life. Seeing the text light up my phone, I nearly did a 360-degree jump off the couch. Not because I missed him, but because there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing I won. When we broke up, I went all out—deleted and blocked Jack from everywhere. Complete breakup protocol. But I left his number untouched, waiting to see who would break first. He did. I immediately took a screenshot and called up my bestie, Sarah Grim: “Guess who just texted me? Jack!” She gasped, “No way! What does he want?” “Obviously, he’s realized how good he had it with me and is probably crying his eyes out right now.” I opened his message, ready to read some heartfelt apology or something, and hit him with a quick TD (which stands for “Too Dumb,” just my go-to response for these situations). But when I saw the content, the smile froze on my face. “Do you remember that lipstick you used to wear? What shade was it? I want to buy it for my crush.” Wow. Not only did he move on, but he’s chasing some new girl already. Guess the joke’s on me. Jack, always the smooth-talker. I took two seconds and shot back: “Oh, forgot. Why don’t you ask one of your basketball teammates? He bought it for me.” Then I shut off my phone. When I came back from washing dishes, I saw 99+ notifications. “?” “Anna, you better explain yourself!” “WTF!!” “Which teammate?!” “Who the hell is it? You better tell me!” “Where are you?!” “Answer me, I’m begging you.” “Don’t pretend you didn’t see this.” “So, you’re not going to tell me, huh?” Jack’s messages were flying in like they were free. I had no choice but to hit him with my ultimate move. I sent him a cheeky little emoji of a yellow bean sticking its tongue out, captioned: “None of your business.” The messages stopped for a moment. Then— “Anna Carter!” “You wait. I’m coming to your house right now.” Uh-oh. Someone’s pissed.

Jack and I started dating back in college, but we broke up after graduation. He’s a total contradiction. Before we dated, he had this cold, brooding, “untouchable” vibe. Once we started dating, though, that mouth of his turned sharp as a knife. If I took off my jacket, he’d say I looked like a bird spreading its wings. If I bent down to tie my shoes, he’d joke that I was a Transformer. This “untouchable” guy turned out to have a real gift for being annoying. I ranted to Sarah about it, and she said it’s just this thing now—boyfriends with “unexpected contrast.” Apparently, it’s trendy. But, to be fair, Jack had his good points. For example, he did all my elective course assignments. He also somehow got me through calculus, which I’d have failed without his help. And even my thesis framework? All Jack’s doing. It was so good it got voted “Outstanding Thesis,” and Jack stayed up late making the PowerPoint for my defense. The price of being an “academic queen” was that while Jack was killing it in his internship on Wall Street, I was just a lowly editor at a small studio. That’s also when we started drifting apart. Jack was swamped with his internship at the investment firm, so we barely talked. I’d hear from him two or three times a week, which was a far cry from what we used to be. I got it, though. He was working hard to secure his future. But what really ticked me off was this one time he finally had some time to be with me. After we had an amazing time together, I wanted to lie there and just trace my fingers over his six-pack. But nope. Jack got up, grabbed his laptop, and went straight back to work. Talk about cold-hearted. I lost it. I ripped off the necklace he bought me with his first paycheck and threw it at him. “Jack, I want to break up.” His face twisted, storm clouds gathering. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. Ugh, bad vibes. I lay down and tried to count sheep: “Jack’s cursed, cursed, cursed…” Just as I was drifting off, my phone rang. I sat up straight: “What? Jack’s in the hospital?” Was my wish that powerful? Should I buy a lottery ticket? “Miss Carter, you should come to the hospital. It’s not looking good.”

I rushed to St. Thomas’ Hospital. The emergency department was packed with people. I finally found the VIP ward and pushed the door open. Jack looked up at the sound. His white shirt was stained with a large patch of blood, half of his body exposed, arm in a cast. Luckily, that pretty face of his was still intact. The doctor handed me the report: “The patient was in a car accident. He’s got severe abrasions on his back, a broken arm, and a concussion.” That serious? Did he hit his head too? “He’s not going to have amnesia, is he?” I walked over to Jack and asked if he still knew who he was. Jack stared at me for a long moment before shaking his head. Great. This kind of cheesy plot only happens in bad TV dramas. Now it’s happening to me. The doctor sighed. “Miss Carter, please go to the front desk to settle the bill.” I blinked. “But I barely know him.” The doctor turned to Jack. “Didn’t you say she’s your girlfriend?” I shot him a glare. What’s going on? Jack quietly pulled out his phone and showed the doctor a picture of us together. In the photo, we were all cozy, kissing in the throes of young love. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled up an old social media post from our college days—us, the perfect campus couple. I couldn’t believe he still had that. I had a sneaking suspicion Jack had been waiting for this exact moment to trap me. The doctor, convinced we were just a quarreling couple, waved it off and left. Now it was just the two of us in the room. I dropped the act. “I don’t have any money, so I’m leaving.” Jack suddenly grabbed me, but he accidentally tugged at his injured back, letting out a low, pained hiss. That sound… deep, restrained… Let’s just say it didn’t take much to make my mind go places, especially in the middle of the night, in a quiet hospital room. Jack, shameless as ever, gave me these big, sad puppy-dog eyes. “Babe, are we fighting? All the photos in my gallery are of you, and the chat logs are with you. Why can I only text you?” I swear, Jack’s face could make anyone weak. And now, with the added battle scars? It was almost too much. I clenched my hands to stop myself from swooning and said, “Jack, are you seriously faking amnesia?” “How long have we been broken up?” Jack’s breathing hitched, and he let his hand fall. “Babe, I’m not faking it. My memory might be foggy, but my love for you isn’t. “No matter what happened before, I’m sorry. “Don’t leave me, okay?” I couldn’t take it anymore. Even the strongest woman in the world wouldn’t be able to resist Jack when he was being all soft and vulnerable. What, was he bankrupt now? Faking amnesia just to save on hospital bills? Jack pulled out his phone. “Babe, can we at least add each other back on WhatsApp?” I responded coldly, “No way. Do you think you’re on my level to even ask?” Jack, unfazed, continued, “Babe, I’ll transfer you twenty grand. “Just pay the bill tonight, and you can keep the rest.” I have to admit, I finally found a man with a soft heart and a fat wallet. Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone. “Alright, fine.” Jack smiled in relief and scanned my WhatsApp. As soon as I walked out of the hospital, I called up Sarah and told her the entire weird story. Sarah immediately replied: “He’s faking it! He thinks life is some kind of soap opera. Be careful, girl, don’t let that jerk fool you!” I sent her a screenshot of the remaining balance—over ten grand. “Don’t worry, I got the cash. I’ll be gone by tomorrow.” Playing Jack is easier than playing fetch with a dog. Sarah sent me a big thumbs-up and a sharp review: “Only a tough girl like you could handle someone like him! You’re amazing, Anna!”

By the time I was done with everything, it was already past midnight. I figured I’d just crash at Jack’s VIP hospital room for the night. It would save me from hearing him complain that I took the money and ran. Dragging my feet back to the room, I found Jack sitting there like a sad, abandoned puppy. The moment he saw me come back, his eyes lit up. “You’re back.” I nodded and headed straight for the visitor’s bed, pulling the blanket over myself. The silence in the room was thick, the kind that buzzes with unspoken words. Jack broke it, his eyes boring into me. “Babe, who’s this ‘teammate’ you mentioned in your text?” I stiffened. I knew this was coming. “Why did he buy you lipstick? What shade was it?” I sat up abruptly. Of course, this was going to be a thing. When people are uncomfortable, they tend to fidget. I couldn’t come up with a decent explanation because, well… his teammate really did buy me that lipstick! But still, we were broken up. Jack had no right to grill me about it. I shot back, “I haven’t even asked you about this ‘crush’ you’re chasing. How long have you been after her, huh? Were you into her before we broke up?” Jack’s face darkened immediately. “I can’t remember much right now, but I know one thing for sure—I never had a crush.” Ah, so now we’re playing the amnesia card again. I rolled my eyes and lay back down, opening up TikTok to distract myself. The algorithm must know me well because it immediately started showing me videos of ripped, shirtless guys with abs for days. I started tapping the little red hearts, drooling at the sight. I didn’t even notice the way Jack’s gaze was drilling holes into me. Finally, my phone flashed the low-battery warning, and I turned to him. “Hey, did you bring a charger?” I wasn’t really expecting him to have one, but to my surprise, Jack mumbled, “In my bag.” Who brings a charger to the hospital? Typical Jack, always prepared. I hopped out of bed to grab it from his bag. He had one of those fancy leather briefcases, the kind every finance guy on Wall Street seems to own. But what really caught my eye was the tiny peanut keychain hanging off the side, completely out of place with the rest of the bag. I smiled, remembering that I’d given him that keychain for his birthday. I’d told him it symbolized “good things to come.” He’d acted all annoyed when I gave it to him, but here it was, still with him after all this time. Damn it, memories were starting to hit me again. I quickly found the charger and jumped back into bed. The next morning, I woke up to something that nearly made me choke. There was Jack, squatting next to my bed, completely shirtless. And those abs? Right there in my face, all eight of them, glistening in the morning light. No filters. No censorship. “Morning, babe. You’re finally up.” Babe? Jack only used that word in… well, certain situations. Yesterday, he’d been grossing me out with it all night. Now, we were doing this again? His face inched closer to mine, and I panicked. I shoved him away. “Seriously, dude? I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet!”

I never realized just how strong I was until that moment. Jack’s tall frame—what, he’s like 6’2”?—fell right to the ground with just one push. Unfortunately, he landed on his injured arm and winced. That pained sound he made? It was, well… let’s just say it made my heart skip a beat. Frantically, I jumped out of bed to help him up. My hand, completely on its own, managed to “accidentally” graze those glorious abs. Yep, still as firm and smooth as ever. Actually, they were even more defined than they had been back in college. Jack smirked, clearly enjoying this way too much. He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his abs, pushing my fingers along the ridges. With a low, seductive voice, he whispered in my ear, “You like them? I worked out just for you.” Cue instant heart palpitations. My face flushed as I yanked my hand back. “Have you no shame?” Instead of getting angry, Jack burst out laughing, his grin so wide it practically reached the back of his head. This guy… did that car accident knock something loose in his brain? He was acting like a completely different person. Before I could say anything else, the nurse walked in, clearing her throat loudly. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you patched up.” I wanted to die from embarrassment. I bolted for the bathroom to get myself together. By the time I came back, Jack had finished his treatment, sitting there in his hospital gown with a lazy smile. The nurse handed me two tubes of ointment. “Apply these once a day.” She turned to Jack, giving him a stern warning, “And no strenuous activities!” Jack winked at me as the nurse left, and I shot him a withering glare. I gathered up my things, though there wasn’t much—just my phone. Jack, still looking pitiful, asked, “Babe, where are you going?” “To work.” “But it’s Saturday.” I hesitated. Jack, ever persistent, pushed on, “I’m so badly injured, and I can’t feed myself. Can’t you stay and take care of me?” He was really laying it on thick now. “I already asked the doctor. You’ll be out of here in two or three days. You’re not exactly paralyzed.” Still, Jack wouldn’t let up. “Babe, how about this? I’ll pay you a thousand bucks a day just to bring me food.” I laughed, giving him a look. “Since when are you this loaded?” He shrugged. “I can’t remember exactly, but judging by my bank statements, I’m probably making at least a million a year.” I blinked. What the hell? I barely make seven grand a month! The gap between us was wider than I thought. “Alright, fine. I guess if it’s a humanitarian effort…” Jack’s transfer was smoother than clockwork.

Back home. I took a long, hot shower, then collapsed onto my bed, trying to make sense of everything. The extra money in my account was making my head spin. When Jack and I broke up, he acted like I owed him something. I used to fantasize about somehow making him pay, getting one over on him. Well, now I’ve got the money. But somehow, it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. What Jack was doing didn’t feel like some desperate act of love. It felt more like he was trying to set me up, like a silent assassin. I didn’t tell Sarah about the money or anything else—she’d chew me out for sure. So, I buried myself in work to keep my mind off it. At mealtime, I ordered takeout for Jack, pretended I cooked it myself, and brought it to the hospital. Jack ate it up with enthusiasm and, for once, kept his mouth shut. He even complimented my “cooking,” saying it was great. One evening, while he was eating, I was busy working on a project. Suddenly, I heard a camera click. I looked up, frowning. “Don’t take pictures of me.” Jack, of course, ignored me, looking smug as he admired his phone screen. “I’m changing my wallpaper. The nurse thinks I’m single and keeps trying to set me up with her niece.” I bit my lip, stealing a glance at his sharp profile. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what Jack was doing. He was angling for a reunion, and I was starting to think maybe I should just let him have it—give him a way back into my life. But I needed to discuss it with Sarah first. But then, Jack slapped me with a reality check. And it hurt. A few days later, I arrived at the hospital about thirty minutes early to bring him dinner. As I reached the door to his room, I stopped dead in my tracks. There was Jack, hurriedly stripping off his suit jacket and slipping into his hospital gown. Standing next to him was a sophisticated woman, with soft, wavy hair and a form-fitting business suit that emphasized her figure. She moved with an ease that suggested they were familiar—too familiar. She was helping him with his tie, her hands brushing against his neck. “Slow down, no need to rush,” she said softly. The way they stood together, the comfortable closeness… it was clear they were more than casual acquaintances. Jack didn’t even seem to notice the intimacy of it all, letting her touch him like it was completely natural. I let out a bitter laugh, turned on my heel, and walked away. I had been played. Twice. If I ever let Jack back into my life again, I’d be a fool.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294629”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic

“I need to go on a work trip for a month. Could you come by my place to feed my cat? Also, the mango juice in the fridge is about to expire.” At two in the morning, I was jolted awake by my phone vibrating. I grabbed my phone and saw it was a message from my best mate, Chloe. The next moment, I was wide awake and drenched in cold sweat. First, she’s a freelancer, so there’s no such thing as a work trip for her. Second, she doesn’t have a cat. Third, she’s allergic to mangoes. “Emma, I need to go on a work trip for a month. Could you come by my place to feed my cat? Also, the mango juice in the fridge is about to expire.” At two in the morning, I was jolted awake by my phone vibrating. I picked up my phone from the bedside and saw it was a message from my best friend, Chloe Harris. I’m a light sleeper; it’s no exaggeration to say that if a pin dropped in the night, I’d wake up immediately. Chloe knew this all too well, which is why she never texts me in the middle of the night. In the next second, I suddenly realized something, and sleep fled from me, replaced by a wave of cold fear. I’ve known Chloe for over a decade; she’s my closest friend, and nobody understands her better than I do. First, she’s a freelancer; there’s no such thing as a work trip for her. Second, she doesn’t have a cat. Third, she’s allergic to mangoes. Recently, Chloe and I watched a film about the safety of women living alone, which included a plot point where two best mates had a secret code in case they were in danger. “Emma, if I ever send you a strange message, you must come and save me.” My heart raced, and I instinctively reached for Chloe’s number to call her. But I quickly realized she was hinting at something alarming rather than directly telling me what was happening, which could only mean that the attacker was right next to her, watching her every move. At two-thirty in the morning, it seemed like the power was out, and everything was pitch black outside. In the darkness, it felt as though countless eyes were watching me, my heart racing wildly, the strong beats echoing in my ears, as if they might burst from my chest. I hurriedly grabbed my medication from the drawer and swallowed a couple of pills dry, taking a while to regain my composure. Once I calmed down, I called James Thornton first, then reported it to the police. James is my boyfriend—he’s smart and tall. Whether I’m facing the police or going to find Chloe, I always feel safer with him by my side. As soon as I saw James, I rushed into his arms, crying uncontrollably. “Emma, don’t be scared. I’m here; no one will hurt you again,” James murmured, patting my back softly. Inhaling his subtle scent, my fear gradually dissipated. Thank goodness I have James. About five minutes later, the police arrived. I sat on the sofa, listening to James talk to them. “Emma Smith?” said one of the officers, his voice laced with surprise. I looked up to the door and was astonished to see a familiar face. It was David Collins. What a coincidence; David and I go way back. We were classmates in secondary school, and he was technically my first love. However, the circumstances of our breakup were rather tragic, something I’ve never forgotten. We were young and didn’t understand much. The kind of childish romance we had didn’t hold any weight. Even so, seeing David now brought an inexplicable awkwardness. David was all business, though, and had no intention of reminiscing. He said matter-of-factly, “We understand the situation. We’re going to Chloe’s house now.” “I’m coming with you,” I said, summoning my courage. David shot me a disapproving glance, as if he thought I’d just complicate things. James also advised, “I know you’re worried about Chloe, but this is something the police should handle.” I bit my lip stubbornly and insisted, “Chloe is my best friend. I need to see her safe before I can relax. Plus, I have her keys; I can help.” Seeing my determination, James and David had no choice but to relent. They both knew I’m quite stubborn about what I set my mind on. Reluctantly, David allowed James and me to tag along.

Chloe lived in an upscale house as a standard wealthy second-generation; her security system was top-notch. David immediately instructed his team to pull up the surveillance footage, and he followed James and me straight to Chloe’s flat. As we reached the front door, we caught a whiff of something metallic in the air. I shuddered, a sense of foreboding washing over me. My breathing quickened as I fumbled for the keys in my bag. The more anxious I became, the less I could think clearly. The keys, usually on the outside of my bag, were nowhere to be found. Seemingly sensing my fear, James wrapped his arms around me from behind, whispering, “Emma, don’t be scared. I’m here.” I took a few deep breaths, forcing myself to stay calm, and finally found the keys, handing them to David. David shot me an irritated glance, likely thinking I was taking too long, but he didn’t say anything and turned to open the door. Chloe’s house was dark, and the sharp, metallic scent made it hard to breathe. I stared at the closed door, an inexplicable panic gripping me, as if some monstrous beast was about to leap out from the darkness. I clutched James’s arm tightly, hoping it would somehow comfort me. When the door swung open, David stepped inside first, fumbling for the light switch in the living room. What I saw in the centre of the room would haunt me forever. Chloe was dead. In her own living room, in a grotesquely violent manner. She was nailed to a cross in a kneeling position, her face mutilated, and her body stabbed numerous times, blood splattered everywhere. I screamed in terror and nearly collapsed. Fortunately, James caught me just in time and pulled out his medication, handing it to me. After taking the pills, I felt a bit better, but I was still sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s all my fault. I came too late. If I’d come earlier…” David stood a few feet away, shooting me a glare. “The killer is exceptionally brutal. If you’d arrived sooner, there would have been another body to contend with.” I felt sheepish. David always had a sharp tongue, just like before. That was just typical. The police quickly cordoned off the area with tape. The officer who went to review the footage returned empty-handed. “The cameras nearby were damaged.” I sat dazed on the steps, feeling lost. To lose my best friend like this, at home, was unbearable for anyone. While I was lost in thought, a furry head suddenly appeared in front of me, startling me out of my wits. Thankfully, James was right there, pulling me into his embrace. “Come back, you silly dog!” David called sternly. I realized it was just a police dog. “I’m sorry; Emma is scared of dogs. Could you please keep it on a tight leash?” I heard James’s displeased voice. David held the leash, casting me a contemplative glance. I imagined he was thinking about when I had started fearing dogs. After all, back when we dated, we had adopted a puppy together. But people change. As the one who reported the incident, David proceeded to question me alone. “What was your relationship with the deceased, Chloe Harris?” “She’s my best friend.” I thought, he should know this without asking, considering we were all secondary school classmates, and I’ve been closest to Chloe since then. Rather than saying she was my best friend, I should say she was my only friend.

My dad was a gambling addict and a deadbeat; my mum ran an unlicensed massage shop in town. Somehow, the news leaked out, and the whole school knew, leaving no one willing to befriend me except Chloe. Having Chloe by my side made my entire youth feel less bleak. She was more important to me than my estranged parents. “What did she do for a living? Did she have any enemies?” “She was a culinary influencer. She rarely got into disputes with anyone, and I truly can’t think of anyone who would hate her enough to kill her so brutally.” As I spoke, my voice trembled, and I buried my face in my hands. “Did she have any romantic entanglements?” I racked my brain for a while, shaking my head in confusion. “I don’t know; I never really pried into her love life.” “Aren’t you best friends?” David squinted slightly. I felt a bit awkward. “Even best friends don’t share everything, do they?” David didn’t respond and continued, “What about you? What do you do for a living now?” I hesitated before replying honestly, “I just resigned recently; I’m currently unemployed.” “Why did you resign?” “David, does your line of questioning even relate to Chloe’s death, or do you suspect I’m the killer?” I felt angry, but David remained coldly objective. “Chloe died in her home; there were no signs of forced entry. The killer might have been someone she knew—someone she let in, or someone who had a key to her house.” “You mentioned when you called the police that you received a strange text from Chloe, but we didn’t find her phone at the scene.” At this point, I realized he genuinely suspected me. I let out a bitter laugh. “So you think that I, without a stable job or income, killed my friend out of jealousy because she had a better life than mine?” “Answer my question.” His tone was devoid of warmth. I relented. “Fine. I resigned because I have an anxiety disorder that makes it difficult for me to live and work normally.” I looked down, not wanting to see pity in his eyes. To be honest, his lack of trust made me feel rather down. But then again, when we were together, he never really trusted me fully either. To him, I was merely a familiar stranger; why would he believe what I said? David scrutinized me, as if trying to detect any signs of guilt or panic on my face. We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until he suddenly pulled out an evidence bag and placed it gently on the table. “This phone is yours, isn’t it?” It was an outdated model. The screen lit up, revealing my selfie on the display. Given Chloe’s background, there was no way she would use such a cheap phone; hers had always been the latest model. I stared at the phone for a long moment before nodding. “Yes, it’s mine.” “Can you explain why your phone was found at the crime scene?” David pressed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294628”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic

In the dead of night, I was jolted awake by a loud snoring sound. I was alone in my flat—how could there be a man snoring? Suddenly, I remembered a film where a man was hiding under a woman’s bed… I immediately picked up my phone to call Tom, but my best friend Rachel texted me just then: “Don’t trust your boyfriend; he’s going to kill you!” At midnight, I was awoken by the sound of snoring. Groggy and half-asleep, I instinctively thought it was Tom, but then I remembered we had just had an argument and he hadn’t come to see me tonight. I sat up in shock. The snoring stopped abruptly. I quickly turned on the light. I lived in a single room flat of about twenty square meters, and it was clear there was no one else in sight. Could I have been dreaming just now? But the snoring had been so vivid and real. At this point, I hadn’t thought much about it and assumed it was just my stress from work causing hallucinations. I went to the bathroom and then back to bed. I didn’t turn off the light; after all, that snoring had been far too real, and I felt a bit scared. The light gave me a semblance of comfort. But just as I lay down, the snoring began again. This time, it was so clear, it felt as if it was right next to me! I was truly terrified; my heart skipped a beat. I sat up again, and the snoring disappeared once more. I sat there, dumbfounded. Then I remembered the film about a man hiding under a woman’s bed… If that snoring was real and so close, then the person making that sound had to be in the room! If I couldn’t see them, they must be… hiding under the bed! I grabbed my phone to call the police. But what if the snoring was just a figment of my imagination? How would I explain that to the police when they arrived? I glanced around the room and found only a pair of scissors for protection, so I picked them up and opened the door, ready to flee at any moment. In the end, I grabbed a clothes pole and reached under the bed, sweeping left and right. The clothes pole didn’t touch anything. I finally breathed a sigh of relief, summoning the courage to lift the bed sheet that touched the floor. Under the bed was nothing but a thick layer of dust. Only then did I feel reassured and let out a long sigh. It seemed it had indeed been my imagination. I closed the door and lay back down, trying to sleep; the snoring didn’t return. But just as I was about to doze off, my smart speaker suddenly chimed: “Game on, please answer the question. Is she virtual?” What was happening? Had I mumbled in my sleep? Or was it malfunctioning? So I shouted, “Smart speaker, shut up!” It seemed to malfunction and didn’t receive my command; instead, it continued: “Is she female?” The smart speaker was right by my bedside, and I grabbed it to try to turn it off, but no matter how I pressed the buttons, it wouldn’t respond. “Is she from a Japanese anime?” “Is she from a novel?” … This was definitely not a hallucination, nor was it a dream! Then I recalled the snoring, and a chilling conclusion hit me—there was something unclean in this room! For the first time in my life, I felt such intense fear! Run! That was the only thought in my mind! I didn’t even have time to put on shoes, wrapped in my pajamas, I bolted out of the flat. I lived on the 25th floor, and the lift was still on the 1st floor. I thought about taking the stairs, but the corridor was too dark, and I was too scared to go. I wanted to call the police, but how could I explain this to them? In the end, I trembled as I took out my phone to call Rachel. But she hung up immediately and soon replied with a text: “What’s wrong?” I figured she might not be able to take the call, so I replied that I was encountering a ghost and needed her to come save me. As I typed, my hands shook, and I wasn’t sure how many typos I made in that simple sentence. But I knew she would understand. Just then, the lift arrived, and I hurried in, pressing the door close button. As soon as the doors closed, they opened again. But the corridor was empty; there was nothing there.

The lift doors closed again, and it began to descend normally, with no more anomalies. When it reached the 18th floor, the doors opened again, and still, no one was there. What was more terrifying was that the doors stayed open for a long time; I pressed the button frantically, but to no avail. The only reason the doors wouldn’t close was that someone was still trying to get in! I felt tears prick at my eyes, hesitating to escape the lift, when suddenly the doors shut. On the 16th floor, the doors opened. Finally, I saw someone. It was a middle-aged woman, dressed in red and green, looking very flamboyant, as if she were going to meet a lover. I was sure she was human. I felt like I had grasped a lifeline and quickly stepped aside, hoping to ask her for help once she entered. But she frowned at the lift, mumbling to herself, “Why are there so many people at this hour?” She took a couple of steps back. “I’m the only one in here!” I trembled as I told her. But it seemed she didn’t hear me; until the lift doors closed again, she never got on. I finally realized—this lift was full of ghosts! My back instantly went cold, and I hurriedly pressed the button for the 9th floor; I had to get out of here! I pressed myself against the side of the lift, keeping a wary eye on my surroundings. 9th floor. As soon as the doors opened, I dashed out. That was when I noticed a fat man waiting by the door. Seeing the lift doors open, the fat man stepped inside. “Don’t go in!” I shouted, “There are ghosts in there!” The fat man hesitated, looked back at me, but ultimately ignored my warning and entered the lift. Suddenly, a loud beeping sound echoed in the lift. I knew that sound only occurred when it was overloaded! There was only the fat man inside; even at his heaviest, he couldn’t be over 300 pounds—how could it be overloaded? With a confused look, he exited the lift, mumbling, “What a strange experience.” Finally encountering a living person gave me some sense of security, so I hurriedly approached him and said, “Mate, I—” “Blimey!” the fat man exclaimed, not waiting for me to finish before he turned and ran back to his flat in sheer panic. I immediately chased after him. Even though I didn’t know him, I believed he was the only person who could alleviate my fear at that moment. Besides, I always felt an inexplicable trust towards fat people, as if I thought all of them were good people. But that fat man dashed into his flat and slammed the door shut. I banged on the door, yelling “Help me,” hoping he would come out, but the door remained firmly closed. Just then, my phone suddenly rang. I quickly checked; it was Rachel texting me. “It’s too late; I can’t come alone. What about your boyfriend?” Despair washed over me as I sat on the floor. I understood why she wouldn’t come, and given I mentioned a ghost, she probably thought I was joking. Then I remembered my boyfriend, Tom. We were in a cold war, but we hadn’t officially broken up. In such a dangerous and terrifying situation, I couldn’t afford to let my pride keep me from reaching out to him first. I dialed his number, but he hung up. I was furious and scared! How could he still be angry at a time like this? I quickly sent him a text: “Tom, come save me!” He finally called back, anxious and asking what was wrong. “Tom, please come quickly! I’m so scared!” Tom reassured me, “Don’t be afraid; there’s no such thing as ghosts; it’s all in your head. I’ll be there soon; find somewhere safe to hide.” I asked, “How long will it take?” “About an hour; I’m quite far away.” “An hour?” I stammered, “I’ll be scared to death in an hour!” “Then I’ll call the police right now; just wait.” The call ended. Tom’s voice vanished, and I fell into panic again. Wait a minute! Why did Tom just say, “There’s no such thing as ghosts”? I had never mentioned to him that I was encountering a ghost! Could it be that he was pulling a prank on me to get revenge?

He had a background in computer science, and I heard he once hacked into some pretty serious websites. I thought with his skills, making the smart speaker malfunction or causing the lift to break down wouldn’t be an issue. With that thought, remembering how scared I had been, my anger flared up. Just then, Tom called again. Once I picked up, I exploded, “Are you out of your mind? It was just an argument! Do you really need to scare me like this?” I could imagine Tom on the other end of the line, laughing uncontrollably, which only made me angrier. But Tom sounded bewildered. “What’s wrong? How did I upset you?” “Was it you who messed with the smart speaker and the lift?” “What do you mean? Wait, calm down; the police will be there in ten minutes,” Tom said, sounding a bit exasperated. He actually called the police? If he was just trying to scare me, he wouldn’t have done that. I hung up with doubts and dialed 999 to verify what he said. “Hello, this is 999 emergency services…” “Hello!” I interrupted, “Did you receive an emergency call about something happening at the Oasis estate?” “Yes, I took that call; we are already on our way. The caller stated that a female resident in flat 2503 was in danger.” That female resident was me! “Yes, that’s me! Please hurry!” “We are on our way; we’ll be there within ten minutes. Please stay on the line, find somewhere safe to hide, and contact us if you’re in danger.” He actually called the police! Which meant I was truly in danger! But the police wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes—where could I hide? I had given up hope on the fat man and banged on the door across from me, but got no response. Maybe there was no one living there. I had to try another floor. I thought about taking the stairs, but the corridor was pitch black, and the lift offered some sense of safety. So, I bravely pressed the lift button. The doors opened, and there was no one inside. I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and stepped into the lift. I only dared to open my eyes after I heard the doors close behind me. Nothing seemed amiss in the lift. I relaxed a bit, hesitating, before pressing the button for the ground floor. The security office by the entrance seemed like the safest place! As I stepped out, the estate was eerily quiet and dim, with only scattered lights that barely illuminated the path ahead. I made my way toward the estate’s entrance. I was almost convinced I had encountered a ghost, but as I walked out and down, I hadn’t been harmed. Perhaps the ghosts in my flat and the lift were harmless. With that thought, my fear lessened somewhat. When fear stopped overwhelming me, I remembered something else. How did Tom know I was encountering a ghost? I had only told Rachel about it; if Tom knew, it could only mean they were together! What were they doing alone together in the dead of night? No wonder they weren’t answering my calls! No wonder Tom got angry and left when I said a few trivial things yesterday! My phone rang again—it was Tom calling. “How are you? Are you okay?” he asked with concern. I didn’t respond and instead asked, “How did you know I was encountering a ghost?” Tom paused for a second before saying, “Because… because Rachel’s phone card is with me; she’s been dead for two months.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294626”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic

“Honey, let’s kill Mia.” Just as I was getting engrossed in my late-night novel, my mom, sleeping beside me, suddenly uttered these chilling words. And I am Mia. Since Dad works the night shift, I usually share a bed with Mom. We were sleeping back to back when I felt an icy chill run down my spine. I carefully turned my head to look at Mom’s side, which was shrouded in darkness. By the faint light of my phone, I could see her body rising and falling rhythmically, clearly sound asleep. Before I could make sense of what had happened, a wave of drowsiness washed over me. Leaving my phone screen on, I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, it was already late afternoon. “Sweetie, lunch is in the pot. Your dad and I had to go out for something.” Signed: Your loving Mom. Everything seemed normal, just like any other day. This made me think back to last night’s incident. Maybe I had imagined it? I had been staying up late reading novels, so perhaps it was just a hallucination? Thinking hard, I vaguely remembered it was around 2 AM. I was engrossed in a romance novel, moved to tears by the beautiful love story between the main characters, when I suddenly heard my mom’s voice. It wasn’t her normal speaking voice, but a deliberately hushed whisper, the kind used for secrets: “Honey, why don’t we kill Mia?” And I am Mia.

As I lifted the pot lid, a delicious aroma wafted out. Corn chowder, my favorite soup. But as soon as I tasted it, I noticed something odd. There was a strange bitter taste, along with a hint of rust. Looking closer at the soup, I saw tiny gray particles floating on the surface. It looked like some kind of soil.

Suddenly, I remembered an urban legend. On Halloween, if you cook a dead person’s ashes with a living person’s blood, make the blood donor drink it, and light a candle, the dead person’s spirit can possess the living person’s body.

Halloween had just passed a few days ago, and I was on my period. It’s gross to say, but it would have been easy to get my blood. The more I looked at the soup, the more unsettling it seemed.

Should I take a picture and ask some experts online? I took out my phone, about to snap a photo. “Click—” An unusual sound came from outside the door. “Click click click—” The door seemed to be stuck and wouldn’t open. The person outside appeared very impatient, repeatedly pushing and pulling the door. The force was so great that the entire door was shaking. I stared at the door in terror, my mind flashing with scenes of murderers breaking in from countless horror movies. “Bang—”

“Mia, why are you sitting there like an idiot?” Mom pushed open the door and came in. “Why aren’t you eating your lunch?” She looked at me suspiciously. “Hurry up and eat, I need to wash the dishes.” I don’t know if it was my imagination, but she seemed particularly anxious, constantly urging me to drink the soup.

I blurted out, “I think this soup has gone bad.” “Gone bad?” A dark look flashed across Mom’s eyes. “Let me see.” “Does it?” “It’s a bit sour. Did you accidentally use vinegar instead of water when making the soup?” Of course, I didn’t dare voice my real suspicions, so I made up an excuse.

he leaned in close to the bowl, taking a perfunctory sniff before setting it down. “No, your dad and I just ate some, it’s fine.” “Hurry up and eat.” She pushed the soup back towards me. I shook my head firmly. “What if it’s spoiled?” “You guys shouldn’t eat questionable food either.” “You’re so picky.” “If you don’t believe me, try it yourself. It really is sour.” “Forget it,” Mom ignored me, looking displeased. “If you don’t want to eat it, I’ll just throw it out.”

Normally, my mom wouldn’t even throw away a half-rotten apple. Even if food was visibly spoiled, she’d insist on tasting it first. Why was she so quick to discard this soup? I felt an inexplicable sense of unease. It was just a pot of soup, after all. I shook my head, trying to dismiss these ridiculous thoughts.

After going out for a run and taking a shower, I was comfortably lying in bed. I took out my phone, planning to play a game. Suddenly, I felt something cold on my nose. I figured my allergies were acting up again. I sniffled hard, and the next second, I tasted a strange salty, metallic flavor in my throat. That’s not right, mucus doesn’t taste like this. Confused, I instinctively touched my nose—ice-cold, bright red liquid stained my fingers.

My first thought was that I had a nosebleed from overexertion. I tilted my head back, trying to stem the flow. But the next moment, plop plop plop, blood drops fell on my face like rain. One drop even landed right in my eye, making it impossible to open.

It was then that I noticed a colorful flying squirrel hanging from the ceiling. Its belly had been sliced open by the decorative wire of the ceiling lamp, its body dangling and swaying in the air. Blood was steadily dripping from where its body met the wire, with half its intestines hanging down, nearly touching the floor. A few disgusting green flies buzzed around, and the stench of decay filled my nostrils.

“Spotty!” I cried out in shock. This was my pet flying squirrel of three years. How did it end up there? Flying squirrels are intelligent animals, very cautious of unfamiliar places. How could it have gotten caught and died on the ceiling lamp wire?

Spotty had been by my side ever since I graduated college and moved back home. But now, its once soft body was split open by the wire, its internal organs blackened and rotting, its death horrifically gruesome and bizarre. What was going on?

“What are you doing? Why are you shouting?” “Why is your face covered in blood?” Mom pushed open the door. Without a word, she grabbed a towel and started roughly wiping my face. “Spotty…” I mumbled. “That old rat? Good riddance, it was creepy anyway,” she said coldly.

“How did it get up there?” “How should I know? Doesn’t it fly? Maybe it crashed into something and died,” Mom dismissed carelessly. “Look at it yourself, it was hanged by the wire. Besides, no matter how well it could fly, it wouldn’t end up like this.”

Mom shoved me aside, revealing a cold and fierce expression. “Fine, I get it! How annoying! It’s already dead, what can you do about it?” “It’s just a rat, why are you making such a big fuss?” “If I kill a cockroach tomorrow, are you going to hire a funeral procession for it?”

My heart slowly turned cold. It must have been Mom who did this! She had always disliked having pets in the house and had threatened to get rid of Spotty several times.

I could almost imagine her grabbing Spotty from its cage, grinning maliciously as she wrapped the wire around its belly layer by layer until it was split open and bleeding. The scene was horrifyingly gruesome. Suddenly, I had a chilling realization. Was what I overheard a few nights ago real? If my parents really wanted to kill me, it would make sense for them to practice on Spotty first.

I turned off the lights and lay in bed. Suddenly, I heard a faint rustling sound from the doorknob—the very soft sound of a key turning. I have a habit of locking my door at night. My parents have always kept a spare key to my room, but they’ve almost never used it.

“Click—” The door lock was opened. Then I heard very slow, eerie footsteps. Someone had come in! The old wooden floorboards creaked under their steps. They seemed to be moving very carefully, trying not to make any noise. But I could clearly feel them slowly approaching.

The air seemed to stand still. I held my breath nervously. My heart was pounding in my chest. I kept my eyes tightly shut, not daring to move a muscle. The person came closer and closer until I could almost hear their breathing.

Suddenly, I sensed a flash of light pass in front of my eyes. A long, cold light. A sense of dread washed over me. I opened my eyes just a tiny crack.

An eerily gleaming knife blade was pointed right at me, less than four inches from my face. If it moved down even slightly, I would be decapitated.

Without time to think, I screamed and ducked under the covers. “What’s wrong, Mia? You were sleeping so soundly, did you have a nightmare?” “Dad?” “What are you doing here?” I quickly rolled to the side, wrapping myself tightly in the blanket and eyeing him warily.

“I told you she was pretending to sleep,” Dad turned and smiled at Mom, who was now leaning against the doorway. But for some reason, his voice sounded sinister and creepy. “Your mom and I had a bet about whether you were asleep. I said you definitely weren’t.”

“Want to get up and have some watermelon? We just bought some.” Only then did I notice Dad was holding a fruit knife. I relaxed slightly: “No thanks, you guys go ahead. I need to sleep, I have work tomorrow.” They looked at me for a moment, then left without saying anything. Lying in bed, I was wide awake. Thinking back on recent events, everything started with that overheard sleep-talking. Could what I heard that night be true? I tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep until the middle of the night. I got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen. But something felt off. It was like I had forgotten something important. Standing alone in the living room for a long while, I suddenly realized— There was no watermelon in the kitchen at all! I even checked the fridge again, but there weren’t even any leftover watermelon rinds!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294625”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic

My sister Stella cultivates a special type of golden mushroom, but she only sells them to men – older men, to be precise. Despite the exorbitant price, customers keep flocking to our door. Stella always takes them to a small wooden cabin to select their mushrooms. From inside, I can hear her painful gasps and moans. Every man who emerges looks incredibly satisfied, as if they’ve shed years off their age. Meanwhile, Stella’s face grows paler, and her belly swells larger day by day. One day, another elderly gentleman came looking for my sister. He arrived in a luxury car with bodyguards, dressed in an expensive suit, but he treated Stella with utmost respect. “Miss King, I’d like a larger golden mushroom, please,” he said politely. Stella glanced at him expressionlessly. “Certainly. The larger size costs an extra ten million dollars.” “No problem at all,” the man agreed without hesitation. To be honest, in all the years I’ve lived with Stella, I’ve never actually seen these golden mushrooms she grows. Whenever a customer comes, she always takes them to the small cabin next to our mansion. Stella has never allowed me near that cabin. This time was no different. She told me to stay in the house while she escorted the old gentleman outside. His two bodyguards tried to follow, but Stella wasn’t pleased. “Surely you know my rules if you’ve come this far?” she said coldly. The old man immediately apologized and ordered his bodyguards to wait where they were. Soon after, I could hear Stella’s labored breathing coming from the cabin, accompanied by the man’s painful groans. The two bodyguards were startled and wanted to rush in. I quickly stopped them. “Have you forgotten my sister’s instructions? No one is allowed near the cabin.” Despite my words, I was worried about Stella too. What exactly was she doing in there? After what seemed like ages, the sounds finally stopped. When the man emerged with Stella, he wasn’t carrying any mushrooms, but his face was glowing. Not only had his wrinkles disappeared, but his previously white hair had turned gray. The bodyguards looked shocked. Stella, on the other hand, looked even paler than before. I thought I caught the faint scent of blood in the air. As soon as the old man and his bodyguards left, Stella nearly collapsed. “What’s wrong?” I rushed to support her. Stella didn’t answer my question. She just asked me to help her into the house and, as usual, sent me to town to buy some medicine. I hesitated for a moment before asking, “Are you really selling mushrooms? Why do those men…” “How many times have I told you not to ask about the cabin? Just focus on your studies,” Stella interrupted sharply. Stella and I are twins, but she was born a few minutes earlier. She acts more like a mother to me, and can be quite strict. Thanks to her mushroom business, we live in this big mansion. I attend the best schools, and she’s set aside a substantial inheritance for me. I both respect and fear my sister. So I didn’t dare ask any more questions and went out to buy the medicine as instructed. We live halfway up a mountain, and our mansion is the only building for miles around. To buy medicine, I have to go all the way down to the town. “Luna, what exactly does your family do? Why is someone always getting hurt?” the pharmacy owner asked curiously. Seeing my confused expression, he elaborated, “These are all blood-replenishing medicines. You wouldn’t need them so often unless someone was losing a lot of blood.” 2. Remembering the scent of blood on Stella, my heart clenched. Was she injured? I thought she was just selling mushrooms – why would she be hurt? When I returned home and gave Stella the medicine, I asked if she was injured. “No,” she said curtly, pushing me out of her room. Soon after, an even stronger smell of blood wafted from her room. I panicked and kept knocking on her door. “Where are you hurt? We should go to the hospital if it’s serious!” Suddenly, the door flew open. Stella stood there, her face dark with anger. “Who told you I was injured?” “…The pharmacist said those medicines are for blood replenishment. He said only people who lose blood regularly would need them.” “Why do you believe everything others say? Those medicines are fertilizer for the golden mushrooms.” I wanted to say more, but Stella had already slammed the door shut. A few days later, another elderly man came to buy golden mushrooms. He was extremely respectful to Stella. “Miss King, a friend recommended me. I’d like an even larger golden mushroom,” he said. Stella’s face was still pale, but she simply said, “A larger size costs an extra ten million dollars.” “Of course, no problem at all,” the man agreed readily. For these men, it seemed money was no object. “You’re not feeling well,” I said to Stella, worried she couldn’t handle it. “We’ve run out of the medicine you bought the other day. Go down to town and get some more,” she told me. I knew Stella was trying to get rid of me, but faced with her stern gaze, I didn’t dare disobey. After walking a short distance, I circled back and quietly approached the cabin. I pressed my ear against the wall. There were no voices inside, just some rustling sounds that sent chills down my spine. I leaned in closer and heard the man gasp softly. “What an enormous golden mushroom!” Then came the sound of crunching, as if he was eating the mushroom. I was startled. So Stella really was selling mushrooms in there? Just then, the man began to groan in pain. Frightened, I took a step back and accidentally stepped on a twig. “Who’s there?” Stella’s alert voice came from inside. I quickly ran away. By the time I returned with the medicine, the old man had already left. Stella was lying weakly on the bed, her face as white as paper. I rushed over to her. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine after a couple days of rest. Did you buy the medicine?” “How can it be nothing? Let me take you to the hospital.” I tried to help Stella up, but she immediately stopped me, her tone turning cold. “Are you not listening to me anymore?” “I’m just worried about you. What kind of mushrooms are you growing? Why do you look so awful every time after a customer leaves, while those men seem to get younger? What’s really going on?” 3. At that moment, I didn’t notice that Stella’s belly seemed to have grown significantly larger. “Growing those mushrooms takes a lot of energy. I’m having trouble managing it alone. Go online and post a job listing. We need to hire some helpers, but only women.” “I can help you…” “No.” Stella cut me off before I could finish. “You just focus on your studies. After you graduate, find someone you like and get married.” “Why can’t I help? I’m in college now. If you teach me, I’m sure I can do it well.” “I said no, and that’s final. Now go post that job listing.” Stella pulled rank on me again with her authoritative tone. I had no choice but to go and post the job advertisement online. Because Stella offered such a high salary, many people applied. I thought Stella would interview them, but she didn’t ask them any questions. She just took out a device that looked like a blood pressure monitor and had them wear it. Different percentages would appear on their wrists, flashing in different colors. 50% and below was red, above 50% was yellow. But none showed 100%. As the number of applicants dwindled, Stella’s brow furrowed deeply. I suspected she was looking for someone who would show 100%. But even after all the applicants had been tested, no one reached 100%. In the end, Stella chose the person with the highest percentage, a woman named Holly Summer. Holly kept thanking Stella profusely. The monthly salary Stella offered was $600,000 – more than Holly could earn in years elsewhere. But Holly’s joy was short-lived. After Stella took her into the cabin twice, Holly’s face became frighteningly pale, almost devoid of color. The men who came to buy mushrooms even complained quietly that the mushrooms weren’t big enough, though they didn’t dare let Stella hear. Stella frowned in dissatisfaction as she looked at Holly. “She looked so strong and healthy. How is she so useless?” When I returned from buying more medicine, Holly was nowhere to be seen. Stella said she had left. But Holly’s luggage was still in her room. After her second time in the cabin, Holly had been bedridden. Stella gave her many medicines, but nothing seemed to help. I wanted to take Holly to the hospital, but Stella wouldn’t allow it. She just sent me to buy more medicine again. When I left, I clearly saw Holly’s hand dangling lifelessly from the bed. Now Stella’s face was covered in sweat, and her clothes were stained with dirt. As if she had just buried something. I looked at Stella in horror. Had Holly really died? And had Stella already buried her? I also suddenly realized that Stella’s belly had grown much larger, as if she were several months pregnant. “Your… your belly…” I stammered. 4. As far as I could remember, Stella had always lived in this mansion. She never went down the mountain or had a boyfriend. How could her belly suddenly get so big? Stella was keeping too many secrets from me. She pulled her clothes to cover her belly without explaining anything. Instead, she told me to keep posting job listings online. I couldn’t help but shout, “Is Holly dead? That’s a human life! How can you act like nothing happened?” “So what if she’s dead? Why are you making such a fuss? Are you trying to let everyone know someone died here?” Stella replied coldly. I stared at her in disbelief. Suddenly, the person before me felt like a stranger. Our father died in an accident before we were born, and our mother mysteriously disappeared soon after. Stella had always taken care of me. She gave up her chance to go to school and grew mushrooms to support my education, giving me the best material life possible. She was my only family left in this world. But I realized I didn’t know her at all. “Are you pregnant? Who’s the father?” I asked. Could it be one of those men who came to buy mushrooms? Stella gave me an inscrutable look but still explained nothing. “Hurry up and recruit more people,” was all she said before returning to her room. I stood there, my mind in chaos. Then I contacted Holly’s family and sent them all the allowance money Stella had given me over the years. I had seen Holly’s application – she had a bedridden mother and a father with cancer. I hoped the three million dollars could help them somehow. Even though I didn’t want to, I still posted the job listing online as Stella asked. Stella had sacrificed so much for me; I couldn’t disobey her. But thinking of Holly’s death, I posted the ad on a small platform with little traffic. I deliberately wrote it in an exaggerated way that would make people think it was a scam. For several days, no one came to apply. I wondered if Stella would give up on hiring. That day, I was about to go downstairs when I saw Stella return with a strange woman. The woman was filthy and kept giggling stupidly. She looked like a homeless person with mental disabilities. I watched Stella put the measuring device on the woman’s wrist. It showed only 50%, flashing red. Stella frowned, deep in thought. Just then, another customer arrived. Without a suitable helper, I thought Stella would refuse, but to my surprise, she agreed. Stella took the man and the mentally disabled woman into the cabin together. I quickly crouched down beneath the cabin to listen. I heard the man’s angry voice from inside. “Miss King, I paid an extra 20 million dollars, and this is the tiny mushroom you give me? My friend said he got one as big as a bowl for the same price, but mine is only as big as a cup. Aren’t you cheating me?” 5. The cabin fell silent for a while. Then I heard Stella say, “Wait.” Suddenly, the mentally disabled woman let out a terrified scream. After a long time, Stella’s voice came again. “Is this satisfactory now?” The man laughed with satisfaction. Then I heard the crunching sound of someone eating a mushroom. When the man came out, I saw that he looked energetic and vigorous. His slightly hunched back had straightened, and he seemed at least ten years younger than when he went in. Stella stayed in the cabin. I was worried something had happened to her and was about to go in when a ghastly pale face appeared at the door. I instinctively swallowed hard. Stella’s expression was terrifying. And her belly was even bigger than before. I glanced inside the cabin. It was pitch black, with a strong smell of blood wafting out. The mentally disabled woman seemed to be lying on the bed, completely motionless. “Who told you to come near here?” Stella blocked my view with her body. “I…” “Get lost,” she snapped. It was the first time Stella had ever been so angry with me. I felt hurt – after all, I was just worried about her. That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I got up and went to the window, suddenly seeing Stella dragging something out of the cabin. In the moonlight, I saw the face of the mentally disabled woman. It was deathly pale, her wide-open eyes staring right at me. I covered my mouth tightly to stifle a scream. Stella dragged the body towards the back of the mountain. I noticed a large patch of dried blood on the woman’s wrist. Terrified but curious, I followed her. At some point, Stella had dug a large pit on the back of the mountain. She threw the mentally disabled woman’s body into it and began filling it in, muttering to herself. “If I wasn’t in such urgent need of blood, I wouldn’t have chosen you. Seeing how crazy you were, it’s better that you’re dead. At least you won’t suffer anymore.” What did Stella mean? Urgent need for blood? What did she need blood for? I had a bold guess. Was Stella using human blood to grow the mushrooms? She often took blood-replenishing medicine because she was constantly losing blood. Now that her body couldn’t handle it anymore, she had to use other people’s blood. But why was Stella’s belly getting bigger? And why did the blood donors have to be women? The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Stella had too many secrets. Seeing that Stella had finished burying the mentally disabled woman, I didn’t dare linger and quickly ran back to the mansion. I had just lain down when my bedroom door was pushed open. Someone slowly approached my bed. I controlled my breathing, pretending to be asleep, but my hands were sweating under the covers. Stella stood by my bed for a long time, then sighed softly and tucked me in before quietly leaving. My heart was pounding. I thought she had discovered me. After Stella left, she didn’t return to her room. I heard her going downstairs. It was already 2 AM. What was Stella doing up at this hour? 6.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294624”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic

I have a superpower. After killing someone, I can gain their memories from the past three years. Before my college interview, I killed my genius boyfriend and successfully got into university. When did I first discover this ability? It was when I was nine years old, the year my parents divorced. I stayed with my mom. I liked my mom, but truthfully, I preferred my dad. I often snuck out to see him and play together. But one day, when I went to find him, I caught him kissing another woman. My parents had always been discreet around me, so this was the first time I’d seen a man and woman kiss. The woman’s lips were bright red, as if they could devour someone. I felt angry. Even at my young age, I understood that my dad had done something wrong, which led to their divorce. Dad was the bad guy. Furious, I ran into my dad’s car and threw a bunch of marbles inside. The marbles got stuck in the brake pads, causing the brakes to fail. The woman was knocked unconscious, and my dad died on the spot. The police checked the security footage and found that I had put the marbles in the car. But a nine-year-old child knows nothing and isn’t criminally responsible. Plus, having lost my father, I was sobbing uncontrollably, completely devastated. No one blamed me. Everyone thought I was pitiful. But as I cried, my mind was suddenly filled with new memories. In these memories, I saw the woman’s face. It turned out that my dad had been cheating for a long time. I saw arguments between my mom and dad, saw my dad stealing money from home. I saw the woman and my dad in intimate moments, saw them disgustingly making love. I threw up. Mom and the police thought I was crying so hard that my body couldn’t take it. Only I knew that I was disgusted. At such a young age, I had seen two animals in heat.

Unexpectedly, my sadness dissipated quickly. What lingered was the disgust. At the same time, I realized something different about myself. As a child, I didn’t dare speak about it. As I grew older, I didn’t want to. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized what this ability truly meant. In middle school, I was in the same class as Emma, the girl next door, and we were close friends. We went to and from school together, inseparable to the point where we even went to the bathroom together. Our teacher jokingly called us conjoined twins. Emma didn’t have the best personality, but she was very pretty, much prettier than me. I sometimes heard people say, “There’s the princess and her maid.” I didn’t mind much, but Emma always seemed pleased. I thought this was one of the reasons she was so close to me. People are often reluctant to be outdone by those close to them. Emma liked feeling superior to me, which in a way showed that she truly considered me a close friend. I was very good to Emma, to the point where she became somewhat dependent on me. Emma’s grades were always better than mine, except for French. So I always helped Emma with her French homework, writing it neatly for her. As the French class representative, I would often help the teacher grade quizzes in the office. During these times, I would secretly change a few of Emma’s answers, adding some points to her score. Until the teacher discovered this. The French teacher didn’t blame me for changing the grades, but instead scolded Emma. The French teacher had always disliked pretty girls who loved to dress up, and given Emma’s poor French grades, the teacher disliked her even more. “You never focus on your studies, always up to these tricks!” “Girls like you will never amount to anything.” Emma’s eyes immediately turned red. She pushed her desk away with a bang and ran out of the classroom. The French teacher initially scoffed, but as Emma didn’t return, she began to worry something might happen. After teaching for a while, she couldn’t help but ask me to go check on Emma. I knew where Emma was. She was in the storage room next to the third-floor tea room. Whenever Emma was upset, she would curl up in there. I gently opened the door of the storage room, squeezed inside, and crouched next to Emma. Emma didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at Emma. I understood her; she didn’t want me to see her in such a vulnerable state. After sitting for a while, Emma spoke. “I don’t like Mrs. Thompson.” Mrs. Thompson was our French teacher’s name. “I don’t like Mrs. Thompson either,” I said in solidarity. Hearing my childish response, she couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Let’s go back,” she said. “Okay.” Emma and I grew closer and closer. But sometimes, you have to admit that when it comes to studying, some people just have a natural talent. I had tried hard, but I really didn’t have a knack for academics. Emma and I spent almost every day together, studying for the same amount of time. But Emma’s grades kept improving, steadily rising in all subjects, and even her French was catching up to mine. Sometimes she would offer to tutor me, but I couldn’t understand a thing. Mom would often compare me to Emma, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. I only had Mom. Seeing my grades not improving, I started to get anxious. A vague, dark thought appeared in my mind. What if I killed Emma? If I killed Emma, then I would have her memories. There are many things you shouldn’t think about. Once the thought appears in your head, it never goes away. I had an idea. Just last year, the school had installed new air conditioners with excellent cooling. Many seniors joked that the school only installed air conditioning after they graduated. Emma was quite short and always sat in the first or second row. I, on the other hand, sat in the fifth or sixth row. As summer approached, the school gradually turned on the air conditioning. I often complained about how hot it was and would walk to Emma’s desk during breaks. While talking to Emma, I would casually turn the air conditioning to 16 degrees Celsius on full blast. When the bell rang, I would leave. Sometimes Emma would remember to adjust it back, sometimes she wouldn’t. So Emma often sat through entire classes in the cold air. A few days ago, I had gone shopping with Emma. I told her my mom asked me to stock up on cold medicine and asked if she needed any. “Why buy cold medicine in the middle of summer?” she asked. “My mom says I’m always in air conditioning at home and school, and then I’m all sweaty outside. The big temperature difference makes it easy to catch a cold, so she told me to buy some medicine just in case.” Emma hesitated, thought it made sense, and bought the same medicine as me. Seeing Emma blow her nose and complain of a headache, I knew my chance had come. After school, Emma and I walked home together as usual. “Let’s sit on the grass by the river for a bit,” I suggested. We often relaxed and chatted there after school, so it wasn’t unusual. I pulled Emma along, deliberately choosing a spot visible to the nearby convenience store’s security cameras. I told Emma to open her backpack. Emma opened it to find two bottles of alcohol, seemingly high-proof. She took the bottles out of her bag. “Ta-da! A surprise for you!” I exclaimed. “We’re about to become high school students. Don’t you want to try it?” I turned my body slightly, using my hair to cover my mouth. I understood Emma. She was a girl with a rebellious streak deep down. Emma’s parents had always been quite strict with her. She hadn’t had the chance to do anything wild, but she had always wanted to. Emma held the bottle in her hand, then passed one to me. I turned around, pretending to suddenly have second thoughts and look a bit scared. I waved my hand, “Maybe we shouldn’t? Emma, won’t your parents be angry?” Hearing this, Emma’s rebellious side came out even more. “It’s fine, let’s just try it!” she insisted. I made a hesitant expression until Emma forcefully handed me one of the bottles. We talked about many things. We discussed the recent exams, our future, the French teacher we disliked, and the evening sunset. She apologized to me. She said sometimes she couldn’t help but treat me like a sidekick. She said I was her best friend, forever and always. I said yes, I was. Seeing that it was about time, I patted Emma’s shoulder and said we should head home. I hadn’t drunk much alcohol, mostly just pretending to sip. Emma, on the other hand, seemed quite drunk, stumbling as she stood up. I had found out beforehand that Emma’s mom was on a business trip recently, and her dad worked night shifts. Emma would be alone at home. I looked at Emma. “Emma, bye-bye.” “See you tomorrow.” “Oh, right,” I said, smiling at her. “You have a bit of a cold today. Remember to take the cold medicine when you get home.” Emma nodded with a smile. In the glow of the setting sun, her eyes seemed to hold a gentle flame. I calmly returned home, had dinner with my mom, and finished my homework as usual. Then I peacefully fell asleep. The next morning, I woke up with a splitting headache. I found that my mind was filled with new memories. I knew I had succeeded.

Emma was dead. When Emma’s mom returned home that night, she found Emma collapsed in the living room. By the time they got to the hospital, it was too late. After investigation, the police concluded it was poisoning caused by taking cephalosporin antibiotics and alcohol at the same time. In an era when the internet wasn’t as developed, we middle school students weren’t aware of this common knowledge. Except for me, who had three years of my father’s memories. Everything went too smoothly, even beyond my expectations. I had considered many possibilities. Emma might not have taken the medicine as I suggested. Emma might have called for help in time after feeling unwell. Emma’s mom might have returned home early and stopped Emma. And so on. The fact that it went so smoothly, doesn’t it mean that even God was on my side? As Emma’s best friend and the last person to see her alive, I was called to the police station to give a statement. I was a minor, so a parent needed to accompany me. Looking at the police officer, I appeared very scared. Mom comforted me. “It’s okay, the officer just wants to ask you a few questions.” “That’s right, little girl, don’t be afraid. I just want to ask you a few questions,” the officer reassured me. They didn’t really think a little girl like me could do anything. “According to the deceased’s mother, the deceased didn’t usually drink alcohol, but you two were drinking outside that day,” he said. “Why is that?” I looked a bit scared and glanced at my mom. Mom patted me encouragingly, indicating that it was okay, just tell the truth. “Emma said she wanted to drink that day, wanted to feel excited, and suddenly took out two bottles of alcohol from her bag,” I said. “I didn’t want to drink at first, and I tried to persuade Emma not to, but who knew…” As I spoke, tears started falling uncontrollably. The officer nodded. The security footage indeed showed Emma forcefully handing me the alcohol. The officer asked a few more innocuous questions, then let me leave. The case was ultimately classified as a tragedy caused by a girl’s momentary rebellion combined with a lack of common knowledge. Emma’s death was even used as a cautionary tale within the school. I organized my thoughts and felt like I had discovered a new world. It turned out that Emma’s brain contained so much knowledge. My grades improved dramatically, making my mom very happy. I was happy too. On exam day, I performed normally and achieved the good grades I had hoped for. Mom sold our house and bought a new one near the school. My new bedroom was big, with a large window, and I even had my own study. During the summer break, I frantically previewed the high school curriculum. So when high school started, my grades were pretty good. But I knew this wasn’t a long-term solution. I didn’t have a talent for studying; I wasn’t smart. Even with Emma’s solid knowledge base, I would fall behind later. Last time, luck played too big a role. This time, I needed to carefully plan my high school life.

I set my sights on Jack. He was the top student in our grade and my classmate. Jack was as brilliant as his name suggested. With his handsome looks and academic halo, he was never short of girls who liked him. And I was so ordinary. It seemed we would never have any connection. Through observation and online searches, I discovered Jack’s most frequently used chat app. It was a very niche app. The app featured anonymous chatting and didn’t have message notifications. I scoured through almost all of Jack’s posts for analysis – he was a sunny and lively boy from a well-off family; he had low blood sugar and often carried sweets; he seemed to enjoy reading classic novels and mystery novels. I changed my profile picture on the app to a beautiful jasmine flower, Jack’s favorite flower. I didn’t directly add Jack as a friend but slowly built up my account. I started sharing daily posts regularly, shaping myself into someone with similar interests to him. After a while, my account had a few followers and no longer looked like a zombie account. “What do you think Makoto was thinking when she killed Yukio?” I posted out of the blue. It was a plot point from Riyoko Ikeda’s “Virgin Mary.” Jack hadn’t mentioned reading this book in any of his posts, but I had seen him reading it in class. There was no response to the message after I sent it. I waited patiently. A day later, I received a response from Jack. “Protection and fear, I guess.” “Hello, how did you know I was reading this?” “Fear? Do you think Makoto was afraid of Yukio?” I ignored his second question. “I think Makoto was afraid of past memories.” Realizing I had no intention of revealing my identity, Jack didn’t pursue it further. We continued chatting about our interests. At first, it was just one or two sentences a day, and I would quickly withdraw after getting a response. As time passed, Jack found that I was a book enthusiast with interests very similar to his. Our chat times gradually became longer, moving from books to movies. Until one day, Jack asked me: “You’re really interesting. I’d like to know how old you are? Which city are you in?” I didn’t respond. For several days, I didn’t reply to any of Jack’s messages. He sent many messages, apologizing for his intrusive questions. About a week later, I finally responded to his message. “If you want to know me, come to the rooftop of the teaching building tonight.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294623”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic

Jack’s junior, Emma, got hounded by loan sharks. I tried to stop Jack from getting involved, but Emma was driven to suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills. Jack, unaffected, continued to plan our wedding. Until one day, after getting drunk, he tenderly caressed a photo of Emma and forced me to down a bottle of sleeping pills. He said if it weren’t for my cold, heartless, and selfish attitude, Emma wouldn’t have taken her own life. If I had a second chance, I wouldn’t meddle in their business anymore. I had been reborn—reborn to the day when James Hamilton started borrowing money all over the place for Emily Rose. Emily was his junior, and just like her name suggests, she was gentle and delicate, with features as pretty as a painting. But she had a father addicted to gambling, and over the years, he’d borrowed a huge amount of money from loan sharks. Unable to repay it, he took his own life, leaving behind a daughter who was hounded by creditors day and night. To be fair, James treated me well—everyone knew he loved me like no other. That’s why, in my previous life, when he started borrowing money for Emily, saying she was like a sister to him and he couldn’t bear to see her suffer, I didn’t think much of it. But Emily’s father owed over $8 million. Coming up with that kind of money was nearly impossible. Plus, these loan sharks weren’t exactly good people—you could lose more than just money if you got mixed up with them. Naturally, I didn’t want my soon-to-be-husband getting dragged into this mess, so I gave James all of my savings on the condition that he stop involving himself with Emily’s problems and focus on our wedding. But I never expected Emily would take her own life by overdosing on sleeping pills. When I heard the news, I felt a pang of sorrow. After all, she was just a young woman burdened with a father like that. James seemed sad for a brief moment, but he didn’t say much to me. What I couldn’t have imagined was that he would one day kill me for Emily. Now, as I looked at James standing anxiously before me, his last words to me before I died played on repeat in my mind. “I told you, Emily and I weren’t like that! Why, why couldn’t you just help her? “Your family’s got money, doesn’t it? You rich people never understand this kind of desperation. Clara, you’re selfish and heartless!” “You can watch her die and still expect me to marry someone as cold and cruel as you? “All rich people are scum!” Thinking back, I laughed. My family’s annual income was in the millions, and as their only child, my parents never liked James, who came from a rural background. They wanted me to marry someone more suitable, but I was so in love with James that they cut off my finances, hoping I’d come to my senses. But James resented me because I didn’t ask my family for money to save his precious junior. $8 million—did he really think I’d ruin my life just to help him and his little crush?

Seeing I hadn’t responded, James cupped my face tenderly. The expression I once loved now filled me with disgust. “Babe, you know I just feel sorry for her. She’s been through so much. You know how long we’ve known each other, and Emily really likes you too.” I brushed his hands off and said coldly, “I’m not getting money from my parents anymore because of you. Where would I get the money to give to you?” James didn’t seem to pick up on the sarcasm in my voice. “Babe, you’re their only child. If you explain the situation, your parents will definitely help, won’t they?” I shot back, “Do you like Emily?” For a second, guilt flickered across his eyes, but he quickly hid it. “How could I, babe? Everyone knows you’re the one I love most. Emily’s just my junior, and I feel sorry for her. That’s all. Don’t overthink it.” I stood up, not even glancing his way. “She’s your friend, not mine. I have no obligation to fix her family’s mess.” James frowned. “Clara, aren’t you the kindest, most understanding person? What’s happened to your empathy? Your family’s rich. Your parents are still alive and well, and they’ve got income. But Emily? Her mom’s been gone for years, and she’s stuck with a father like that. You’re acting like Marie Antoinette!” Saying that, he grabbed his debit card and stormed out, heading straight for Emily’s house. I couldn’t believe the audacity—how could James make it seem like all of Emily’s problems were somehow my fault? I quickly packed my bags and sent him a text: We’re done. Then, I blocked him from everything. This time, I wanted to see how long James could survive without my support. Right now, his company was still in its startup phase. In my past life, I knelt before my parents to help him, drank myself sick at business dinners, and gave my all for his company. And what did he do? Did he even love me? During those intimate nights, who was really on his mind—me, or his junior, Emily, who had already taken her own life?

I returned home with my bags, and my parents were visibly shocked. My dad huffed, “If you’re back because of him, you might as well leave. Your mom and I can’t stand the sight of you when it’s about him.” Seeing my parents healthy and alive, I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up. In my last life, after James killed me, how devastated must my parents have been when they found my body? At that thought, I collapsed at the doorway, sobbing uncontrollably. My mom nudged my dad and frowned. “This is your fault! Why do you have to be so harsh? Look at her, she’s crying her heart out.” I buried my face in my mom’s arms and cried until there was nothing left. Regret, bitterness, all of it poured out. “It’s okay, sweetie. What happened? Did James hurt you?” I nodded. “I… I broke up with him. I don’t love him anymore. I want to come home.” The look on my parents’ faces was priceless—they looked like they’d finally been freed from years of torment. Just to make sure, my dad cautiously asked, “You mean, the kind of breakup where you won’t be getting back together?” I smiled through my tears and nodded, then told them the whole story. My parents were furious. “I always knew that James was bad news! Your company, your future, everything—he made you put it all on the line. And now he has the nerve to turn it all back on you?” As my parents raged, I felt a pang of guilt. What had possessed me in my past life to throw my family aside for a man? “Welcome home, sweetheart. Welcome home.” My mom gently patted my back, soothing me the way she used to when I was a child. After such an overwhelming day, I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. The next morning, I woke up to find twenty missed calls from James and a new Instagram post from Emily. In the photo, she was sitting in the passenger seat of James’s car, with him lovingly wiping her tears. The caption read: No matter what happens, I’ll always be by your side. Even though I had braced myself for this, my heart still ached when I saw it. James and I had been together for six years, and people used to joke that if we didn’t end up getting married, they’d stop believing in love. I guess love really does change, doesn’t it? My phone buzzed with a message from Emily: Clara, I’m so sorry about that Instagram post. You know my family’s situation has been really complicated, and Jack… well, he just felt sorry for me, so he stayed with me last night. I heard you broke up with him, but please don’t let it be because of me. I’d feel so guilty. I didn’t respond. Emily’s manipulations were so transparent, I didn’t even want to bother. Posting that picture, then sending me this message—what did she expect me to do? Beg James to come back to me? Or storm into her place and slap her? Emma Miles was as disgusting as James, a two-faced backstabber.

I once accidentally came across some of the messages between James and Emily. “You’re such a great senior, I’m so envious of Clara for finding a boyfriend like you.” “Clara’s so lucky. She has a loving family and a boyfriend who dotes on her. I wish I could have the same.” And, of course, James ate it all up, insisting on treating her like a little sister—bringing her food when she was hungry, water when she was thirsty. When Megan heard that I’d broken up with James, she insisted on dragging me out to celebrate. Her lively energy was contagious, and soon, I found myself in a much better mood. “You have no idea how much I’ve hated James,” Megan said, grinning from ear to ear. “Ever since you started dating him, you’ve barely had time to grab lunch with me. Being blinded by love is how people start losing themselves—and you, my friend, were the poster child for that!” Hearing her ramble on, I pulled her close and nodded eagerly in agreement. “I’m sorry, I really was an idiot, okay? You happy now?” Megan finally nodded with satisfaction and proceeded to drag me into every luxury store in the mall. As I walked through the aisles, it struck me how much I had changed since dating James. I’d stopped being my own person, morphing into someone whose life revolved entirely around him. With his business just taking off, he was always strapped for cash, and I hadn’t visited these beloved stores in ages. “Hey, isn’t that James?” Megan suddenly gasped, her eyes wide. I followed her gaze and spotted James, along with Emily, who was pulling a suitcase behind her. They seemed to be sneaking around, as if they were up to something. I didn’t want anything to do with them anymore, but Megan’s curiosity got the best of her. She insisted we go check it out. We watched as they entered a second-hand luxury bag store, and a suspicion began forming in my mind. “Isn’t that the limited edition bag I got you two years ago for your birthday?” Megan pointed to a high-end bag on display inside. I frowned. I’d left behind some things at James’s place when I packed up, planning to send movers to retrieve them later. I hadn’t expected James to take my bag and sell it for Emily’s sake. Without hesitation, I walked into the store. The moment James saw me, his face went from guilty to gleeful in an instant. “Clara! What a surprise! I’ve been trying to reach you. I was planning to explain everything once I wrapped up a few things—” Whack! I didn’t wait for him to finish. My hand landed square on his cheek, and James stared at me, utterly stunned. Emily quickly stepped forward to tend to his reddened face. “Clara, how could you hit him? He’s—” Whack! Another slap, this time for Emily. “Hitting you was just something I did on impulse,” I said, voice cold. Megan burst out laughing, while the rest of the store turned to watch the spectacle unfold.

“Clara, you crazy woman! Why are you hitting Emily? What did she ever do to you?” James pushed Emily behind him, shielding her like a mother hen. I pointed to the display of bags. “You’re selling my things without permission. Did you even bother to ask me first?” James’s face turned crimson. “I’m just borrowing them. It’s not like I wasn’t going to give them back.” “Borrow my things without asking? Do you realize that’s called theft? And we’ve broken up, James. You don’t get to touch my stuff anymore.” “Clara, how could you be so shallow? They’re just bags! You can always buy more. But you can’t put a price on someone’s life. Are you really okay watching Emily get pushed to the edge?” James was growing more agitated by the second, as if I was the one at fault in all of this. I couldn’t believe how shameless he was. “You’re trying to guilt-trip me? Let me tell you something—I don’t fall for that.” By now, the surrounding crowd was whispering among themselves, phones raised to record. “First of all, we’re no longer together. Second, those are my bags. And lastly, whatever help you want to give your dear Emily is none of my concern. What’s next? If you marry someone and have kids, are you going to ask me to pay their college tuition too?” James was left speechless. He knew he was in the wrong, but with everyone filming, he couldn’t afford to dig himself deeper. Reluctantly, he muttered, “Fine. These three bags—I bought them. I have every right to sell them.” Megan and I were floored. What kind of twisted logic was that? Since when does a boyfriend get to take back gifts after a breakup? “Fine, sell them if you want,” I replied dismissively. I had no interest in prolonging the argument. I turned to the store manager and said, “The rest of the bags are mine. Please assess their resale value and transfer the amount to my account.” It seemed that James knew his company’s finances were stretched thin, so he’d resorted to sneaky tactics like this. Men like him always want everything, don’t they? “Clara, are you really going to break up with me? You’re 28 now. Do you even realize how old that is? If you leave me now, who’s going to want you? Look, I’ll make it simple. Ask your parents for $500,000 to pay off Emily’s debt, and we can work things out.” James said this seriously, as if he was doing me a huge favor. “You’re delusional, James. If anything, you were the one who got lucky with me.” Megan, unable to contain herself any longer, chimed in. “Plus, my brother’s 32, single, and practically a golden bachelor—tall, handsome, and rich. Clara will be way better off without you. Go run back to your little green-tea princess.” With that, Megan grabbed my arm, and we stormed out of the store without looking back.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294622”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School