Author: Momo Chan

I was raped. When I woke up, my phone was waiting with photos of my naked body. The message read: You look better in the shower than you do dressed. I scrolled frantically through my contacts and called the only person in the world I trusted—Cole Mercer. He said, “Don’t move. I’m on my way.” He checked the security feeds, brought me warm milk, moved me into his place, and pulled me back from the edge of a nervous breakdown. On the seventh night, I realized he had been standing outside my bedroom door every single night. And the scar on his wrist matched the exact width of the bruises around my throat. 1 I was raped. When I woke up that morning, the dull, throbbing ache through my joints and the violent constellation of bruises in the bathroom mirror told me the nightmare had been real. I crouched on the tile under water hot enough to scald, scrubbing until my skin bled. But the marks felt carved into the bone. No amount of soap could wash them away. Then I picked up my phone. Two photos had arrived from an unknown number. They were pictures of me, passed out cold, completely naked. The lighting was dim, but the purple handprints clamped around my throat were unmistakable. A third text popped up: Call the cops, and these go straight to your office Slack. My fingers trembled against the glass. The fourth message followed immediately: You look better in the shower than you do dressed. I lunged toward the window, tearing the curtains back. The courtyard below was quiet. Empty. Panic took over. I checked every window latch, ran to the front door, and threw both deadbolts. Sliding down the wooden panel until I hit the floor, my palms broke out in a cold, suffocating sweat. I scrolled through my contacts, looking for a lifeline, and dialed Cole Mercer. We had grown up together. He was two years older than me, a brilliant programmer who could pull apart any piece of software. If anyone on earth could trace this monster, it was Cole. 2 4:17 AM. The phone rang five times before the connection clicked open. “…Jesse?” His voice was thick with sleep, but he pronounced my name with sudden, razor-sharp clarity. I opened my mouth. The tears got there before the words did. “…Cole.” Silence fell on the other end for two beats. Then came the violent rustle of bedsheets, followed by the metallic jangle of keys. “Where are you?” “Home.” “Stay on the line. Don’t hang up. I’m coming.” The roar of an engine ripped through the receiver, crackling over the static. His breathing was heavy and ragged, like he had bolted from his sheets straight into the driver’s seat. In under twenty minutes, my doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole. It was him. His white t-shirt was wrinkled, his grey sweatpants rumpled, his dark hair a mess. The second I pulled the door open, his pupils shrank. His hand rose, hovered above my head for half a beat, and then pressed gently against the nape of my neck, pulling me forward. “Inside,” he murmured. “Let’s talk inside.” 3 He closed the door behind him, guided me to the sofa, and knelt on the hardwood, looking up into my face. “What happened?” I handed him the phone. He looked at the two photos. His eyes lingered on the screen for only a fraction of a second—so fast I wasn’t even sure he had processed them. But the knuckles clutching the frame turned stark, bloodless white. “…Did you call the police?” “He threatened me with the pictures. He said if I go to the cops, he’ll send them to everyone I work with.” Cole set the phone on the coffee table. He drew in a slow, ragged breath, stood up, paced the living room twice, and then knelt right back in front of me. “Jesse. Look at me.” I lifted my eyes. “I’ll pull the metadata. I’ll trace the IP. But you cannot stay here alone. Pack a bag. You’re coming to my place.” “I… you have so much work—” “Jesse.” His voice dropped, low and fierce. “Do you have any idea what you just went through? You think I could sleep knowing you’re here alone?” He took my wrist. His grip was feather-light, his palm radiating heat. “I have an empty guest room. You stay with me. I’ll drive you to work, I’ll cook dinner. You don’t have to lift a finger. Just stay there until I find him.” His eyes were ink-black. Watching me, he looked more devastated, more unhinged by the situation, than I was. In that second, something inside my chest caved in—a warm, aching ache of profound relief. Someone was catching me before I hit the ground. “…Okay.” 4 He stood immediately, walked into my bedroom, and pulled open the closet. “Let’s pack. A week’s worth of clothes.” “Right now?” “Every minute you spend in this apartment is another minute I’m terrified for you.” I leaned against the doorframe, watching his silhouette moving back and forth, folding my shirts, grabbing my coat. “Cole.” “Yeah?” “Aren’t you going to ask me… how it happened?” His hands paused. His back remained turned to me. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I’m not going to ask.” He turned around, a stack of folded sweaters in his arms. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen.” I looked down, blinking rapidly against the burn in my eyes, and walked over to help him pack. When we walked out, I glanced back one last time at my apartment—the living room, the coffee table, the full-length mirror. I couldn’t bear to look at it. I pulled the door shut. Cole drove. I sat in the passenger seat, hugging a duffel bag against my chest. The stereo played a slow, muted piano melody. My head leaned against the glass as streetlights blurred past in amber streaks. Exhaustion dragged me under. “…Cole.” “Yeah?” “Thank you.” He didn’t reply. Halfway between waking and sleeping, I felt the car ease up on the accelerator. A warm hand reached across the console, brushed a stray lock of hair from my forehead, and pulled away just as quickly. I caught the whisper of a sentence, swallowed whole by the engine’s low hum. 5 That first night, the guest room was spotless. The sheets were crisp, dove-grey cotton, and an amber nightlight cast a soft glow on the bedside table. “Get some sleep. I’m right next door. If you need anything, just call out.” He reached over, flicked off the overhead light, and hesitated. “Jesse. Don’t be afraid.” The door clicked shut. I stared up into the pitch-black ceiling, listening to my own pulse hammer against my eardrums. The smell of the room was unfamiliar. The mattress felt strange. Even the air entering my lungs belonged to someone else. Still… it wasn’t that place. Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under. And then I was right back in that suffocating room. My wrists were pinned. A black blindfold cut off the world. The suffocating heat of another body pressed down into mine, heavy and unyielding. A hand dragged slowly down my throat, scraping my skin like thorns. “Don’t cry,” a voice murmured right against my ear, low, amused. “When you cry… it just makes me want to ruin you more.” 6 I gasped, shooting straight up in bed, drenched in ice-cold sweat. My phone screen flickered: 3:12 AM. Next door, a floorboard creaked. Then two soft knocks sounded against my door. “Jesse?” Cole’s voice drifted through the wood, raspy and low. “…I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” The handle turned anyway. He walked in wearing dark navy pajamas, carrying a glass of warm milk. He sat on the edge of the mattress and held it out. “Drink a little. Nightmare?” I took the glass and sipped. It was warm, sweet. He watched me finish it, took the empty glass, set it on the nightstand, and ruffled my hair with infinite care. “I’m right here. Go to sleep.” His palm was warm. His touch was gentle. My eyes stung as I closed them. Drifting off, a stray thought flickered through the fog in my head: There’s a wall and a heavy door between us. I didn’t scream. How did he know I was having a nightmare? 7 When I woke the next morning, the smell of butter and toast drifted from the kitchen. Cole stood by the stove in a grey linen apron, frying eggs. The morning sun caught the sharp angles of his jaw. “You’re up? Go wash your face. Sunny-side up, runny yolks, just the way you like them.” I hovered by the kitchen counter, rubbing my eyes. “What time did you get up?” “Around six. Habit.” He slid the eggs onto a plate beside two slices of golden toast. “Milk’s in the microwave. Grab it yourself.” I carried the warm glass to the breakfast table. He watched me take a sip, his gaze lingering on my collarbone for a fleeting second before darting away. “How’d you sleep?” “…Fine.” “The dream again?” My grip on the glass tightened. I didn’t answer. He didn’t pry. He pushed the plate closer to me. “Eat up. You’re fading away.” I took a bite of the toast. The familiar combination of rich yolk and salted butter tasted like my childhood. Cole had always been a great cook. When we were kids and his house was empty, he was already making dinner for us by the time he was twelve. “Cole,” I mumbled around a mouthful of bread. “Thanks.” He sat across from me, a small, subtle smile touching his lips. “Since when do you say thanks to me?” In that moment, I thought: Thank God I have him. Without him, I would have fallen apart entirely. 8 The nightmare didn’t leave. Like a predator marking territory, it dragged me back into the dark every single night. The voice, the weight, the laughter—it grew sharper, more vivid with every passing hour. On the third night, I woke up gasping at 3:00 AM, my heart kicking against my ribs like a trapped bird. I curled under the duvet, staring at the halo of the nightlight, digging my nails into my palms until the sharp sting anchored me to reality. Then came the knock. Cole walked in carrying another glass of warm milk, sweetened with honey. “Drink it. It’ll help you sleep.” I reached for it, our fingers grazing. I flinched. “Why are your hands so cold?” “Just got out of bed. It’s nothing.” He stood by the bedside, looking down at me in the dim light. “What did you dream about tonight?” I bit the rim of the glass and stayed silent. He didn’t push. He leaned over, tucking the edge of the blanket around my shoulders. “Try not to think so much.” He turned and walked out. As the door clicked shut, a strange scent lingered in the air. Fresh laundry detergent… mixed with something metallic. Like rust. I inhaled deeply, but the scent was already gone. A trick of the mind, I thought. Just a ghost of a dream. 9 I fell into the rhythm of this new life. By day, I went to work, and Cole drove me there and back. “You’re in no state to drive,” he had said, and I hadn’t argued. Every afternoon at five, his sedan was idling at the curb outside my office. At night, he cooked dinner—braised ribs, garlic greens, clear broths. And there was always a glass of warm milk pushed across the table when we finished. “Drink it. It’s good for you.” I teased him once, “You’re starting to sound like my mother.” He froze for a fraction of a second, then ducked his head, shoveling rice into his mouth, the tips of his ears flushing pink. Lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I caught myself thinking: Maybe living like this forever wouldn’t be so bad. The nightmares remained, but every night around three, he would knock, hand me the milk, wait until I drained the glass, and tuck me in before leaving. Every time the latch clicked, it felt like he had locked the terror outside the door. And then a sickening wave of guilt washed over me: I was sexually assaulted. What right do I have to feel this safe? 10 On the fourth night, the voice returned. “Don’t cry,” the whisper purred against my skin, fingers digging into my waist. “You can’t run from me.” I woke up with a violent jerk, gasping for air, clutching the sheets with bloodless fingers. The knock came instantly. Cole walked in with the glass, the amber nightlight softening the contours of his face. I watched him approach, a sudden thought cutting through the haze: “Cole… do you ever actually sleep?” His foot paused mid-step. He extended the glass, his expression unreadable. “Of course I sleep. I just wake up the second you make a sound.” “Do I make that much noise?” “Yeah.” He stood over me, his features cast in shadow. “You scream sometimes.” “…What do I scream?” Silence stretched between us for two seconds. “Couldn’t make it out,” he said softly. “Drink your milk. It’s the weekend tomorrow. I’ll take you to the ocean.” I didn’t press him. But I knew one thing with absolute certainty: I never make a sound in my sleep. I had slept like a stone since I was a child. My mother used to joke that an earthquake wouldn’t wake me. Later that same night, I woke up again. Not from a nightmare. My eyes simply opened. My breathing was steady, my pulse quiet, the room drowning in silence. I turned my head toward the base of the door. Through the crack beneath the wood, there was a faint, unbroken shadow. Someone was standing right outside. Motionless. Like a carved statue. I held my breath. The shadow didn’t budge. I stared at it for what felt like an eternity—one minute, five minutes, ten. Then, the shadow shifted. Almost imperceptible footsteps faded down the hall toward the adjacent room. I stared at the pale sliver of light beneath the door, my mind racing in the dark: How long was he standing there? Why? If I sleep like the dead, why does he knock the exact second my eyes open from a nightmare? Does he stand outside my door all night… or does he not sleep at all? 11 Day five. The coast. The wind was brutal. Cole had driven two hours to a deserted stretch of grey, rocky beach. The winter ocean was a dull slate, waves crashing heavily against the jagged stones, throwing cold mist into the air. He walked ahead of me. I stepped carefully into his footprints in the sand. “Cole.” “Yeah?” “Who do you think… did this to me?” He stopped and turned around. The wind whipped his dark hair across his forehead. “I’ll find him,” he said, his voice flat, emotionless. A sudden chill crawled down my spine. “And when you find him? What then?” He didn’t answer. He walked back to me, reached out, and pulled the zipper of my winter coat all the way up to my chin. His cold knuckles grazed my jaw. “Wind’s freezing. Don’t catch a cold.” Looking at his downcast eyes, an ancient memory surfaced. When Cole was brought back by his father years ago, he was gaunt, silent, his wrists lined with faint, pale scars. When kids at school cornered him, I threw myself into the fight. I ended up with a bloody nose, and Cole knelt on the asphalt to wipe the blood from my face, his hands trembling violently. Jesse, don’t be so good to me, he had whispered. You’re my best friend, I had told him. Who else am I supposed to protect? He had stared at me for a long time, his voice swallowed by the wind: Then don’t you ever regret it. I hadn’t understood him then. Standing on this desolate beach, watching his back, an inexplicable dread settled in my stomach. Something was profoundly wrong. But I had no proof, no logic, no shape to give the fear. That night, he brought the warm milk as usual. “Cole,” I said, peering over the rim of the glass. “You said last night I screamed.” He looked at me. “What did I say?” He stood beside the bed, silhouetted against the hall light. A heavy silence hung between us before he spoke. “You screamed: Don’t touch me.” My chest seized. “Anything else?” “No.” When he said no, the corner of his mouth twitched. A ghost of a smile, there and gone. I lowered the glass. “…How do you remember so clearly?” He tilted his head slightly. “When have I ever forgotten a single thing about you?” The words left me completely speechless. He leaned down and carefully wiped a drop of spilled milk from the wooden nightstand, his thumb dragging slowly across the grain. “Sleep now.” After the door closed, I stared at the half-empty glass for a long time. Then I poured every drop into the potted ivy sitting on the windowsill. I lay down, closed my eyes, and stayed wide awake. 12 2:47 AM. The door next door opened. Footsteps padded down the hall, stopping directly outside my room. This time, I didn’t open my eyes to look at the shadow. I pulled the blanket to my chin and curled into a tight, rigid ball. He stood outside the wood for an agonizingly long time. So long that I thought he was going to turn the knob. Eventually, the floorboards creaked. He moved away. 1:00 AM had passed. 2:00 AM had passed. No nightmares. Because I hadn’t slept at all. 3:00 AM. Silence. 3:15 AM. A knock sounded against my door. 13 “Jesse?” Cole’s voice filtered through the wood—gentle, hushed, the exact same tone he had used for the past four nights, as if terrified of startling me. I didn’t answer. He knocked twice more, and then the brass handle turned. The door swung open an inch. He stood in the frame holding a warm glass of milk, his dark pajamas buttoned neatly to the collar. “Another bad dream?” I sat up straight in bed, staring right into his eyes. “Cole.” “Yeah?” “I haven’t slept a wink tonight.” His hand froze. The surface of the milk trembled, sending ripples across the white liquid. The bedroom went dead silent for three beats. And then, his lips curved. It wasn’t the warm, reassuring smile of the past four days. The gentleness remained on his lips, but his eyes turned completely black, like ice fracturing over a deep, violent current. The look of a hunter realizing the prey had finally noticed the trap. “Is that right?” he murmured. He stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. Click. The deadbolt fell into place. “Good,” he said, setting the glass on the nightstand. A soft sigh escaped him. “Playing the saint for five days was getting exhausting anyway.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “617937”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Even after the pregnancy test turned positive, my husband kept my daily grocery allowance at eight dollars. His secretary—a woman with the kind of sculpted, waist-to-hip ratio that looked engineered for high-fashion lookbooks—personally rejected my request for a dietary increase. “You’ve gained five pounds in your first trimester, Tessa,” Paige had said, looking at me over the rim of her designer glasses. “Our corporate partners are already whispering that Mr. Montgomery married a sow. From today on, every meal is steamed greens. No oil, no carbs.” I was so hungry my vision blurred when I stood up. Desperate, I took thirty dollars from Marcus’s dresser drawer and walked to a diner around the corner, where I inhaled two bowls of beef noodle soup until my stomach cramped from the sudden warmth. Before I could even walk back to the apartment, two patrol officers pulled up, handcuffed me against the brick wall, and took me to the precinct on a grand larceny complaint. Marcus arrived at the precinct, looking down at me in my handcuffs with an expression carved out of cold stone. “I give you an obscene amount of money every single day, and it’s still not enough? Now you’re resorting to petty theft?” The dam broke. I shook in the metal chair, tears scalding my cheeks. “You called the police on your pregnant wife over thirty dollars for food? Who’s the one resorting to extremes here, Marcus?!” His brows slammed together. “What thirty dollars? The accounting flagged thirty million.” Before my hollow, starving brain could process the words, his phone buzzed on the metal table. A text from Paige illuminated the screen, complete with a high-resolution snapshot of an invoice from an elite Fifth Avenue boutique: Mr. Montgomery, Mrs. Montgomery wasn’t satisfied with the cash she took. She just contacted my office demanding another five million in petty cash. Marcus stared down at his phone, his jaw muscles clenching so tight the skin paled around his mouth. From where I sat, clamped to the bolted table, I couldn’t see the screen. I only saw the look that settled over his features—a heavy, suffocating mix of disgust and profound disappointment. “You stole from our accounts just for this?” he asked, his voice dead and level. “Trinkets? Bags?” “If you won’t feed me, I’m not going to starve myself to death just to preserve your idea of marital dignity!” “Are you truly that insatiable, Tessa?” I dug my fingernails into my palms until they nearly drew blood. My eyes burned. Two bowls of soup at a greasy-spoon counter—that made me insatiable? That made me a monster? His thumb flicked across the glass of his phone. A second later, the sharp, automated chime of a completed wire transfer echoed in the small interrogation room. He stood up, adjusting the lapels of his bespoke charcoal suit. “I covered this invoice. But hear me clearly: this is the last time. I will not keep bailing out your bottomless greed.” “Well, thank you so much, Mr. Montgomery,” I spat, the sarcasm shaking with bile and unshed tears. “How generous of you.” He looked at my defiant, emaciated face, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. Turning to the desk sergeant, he said, “I will not be signing a waiver of non-prosecution. Process her however the statute dictates.” He turned on his heel and walked out, the heavy precinct door swinging shut behind him. During the seventy-two hours I spent in the county holding cell, he didn’t visit once. The only person who showed up was a junior associate from his family office’s legal team, carrying intake forms. I didn’t offer a single word of defense. In the eyes of the law, thirty dollars taken without permission was still technically petty theft, wasn’t it? Those three days in county lockup were, horrifyingly, the fullest my stomach had been in three months. My bunkmate watched me scrape every single grain of plain white rice and every limp green bean from the plastic tray, shoveling it into my mouth like a starving stray. She hesitated for a long time before leaning over her bunk. “Honey… did nobody ever feed you on the outside?” My cheeks were stuffed full. I froze. Never eaten good food? How could that be? When Marcus and I first started dating, he had hired private culinary instructors to master regional cooking. French sauces, Italian handmade pastas, rich, slow-simmered broths—whenever I mentioned a craving, he would carve two hours out of an eighty-hour executive workweek just to cook for me with his own hands. On our vacations, he took me through Michelin-starred dining rooms across the world, watching me take my first bites with genuine delight in his eyes. My throat tightened, a thick lump rising in my chest. I wiped the corner of my eye with the sleeve of my rough orange jumpsuit. How could the Tessa Hayes of three years ago ever have imagined that the man who once hand-peeled prawns for her would one day despise her for gaining weight during pregnancy? That she would end up in a concrete holding cell, treating lukewarm prison starch like a banquet? Seventy-two hours later, the medical staff ran a mandatory intake clearance, confirmed my vital signs weren’t crashing, and discharged me. I took the subway back to our penthouse. I had barely unlocked the front door when my phone rang. It was Paige. “Mrs. Montgomery, the municipal health portal forwarded your discharge summary. You gained three pounds during your three days in detention.” Paige’s tone was slick with contempt. “You managed to gain weight on jail rations? Are you biologically incapable of self-discipline?” Before I could get a word out, a notification flashed across my screen from our shared household account. Daily recurring allowance modified. “Starting today, your daily allocation is reduced by fifty percent,” Paige continued smoothly. “Until you shed those three pounds.” A direct deposit hit my checking app. Four dollars. 2 “Four dollars? Paige, that’s insane! How am I supposed to buy food with four dollars in Manhattan?” “These are Mr. Montgomery’s explicit instructions.” “What?” Over the line, Paige let out a low, mocking laugh. “You embezzled such a staggering fortune from Mr. Montgomery, and he’s still willing to grant you a living stipend. What right do you have to complain?” My body went rigid in the hallway. Thirty dollars spent on diner broth was considered a “staggering fortune” to Marcus? “Mr. Montgomery doesn’t even take you to executive galas anymore. Haven’t you figured out why?” Paige asked, her voice dripping with artificial pity. “If you hadn’t let yourself balloon into a circus act, would our prospective partners have dared to joke behind his back that he brought a barnyard animal home? I’m begging you, Tessa—for the sake of the Montgomery name, show some basic pride and watch your silhouette.” My voice cracked, tears choking my throat. “I’m pregnant, Paige! The baby is growing! How am I supposed to not gain a single pound—” “Eat less. It’s simple physics.” The line clicked dead. I called her back three times. Straight to voicemail. I called Marcus’s direct personal line. It rang until it timed out, unanswered. I turned on the television in the living room just to drown out the ringing in my ears. A financial news broadcast was playing a recap of the Global Commerce Summit from that morning. There was Marcus, cutting through the press corps, flanked by Paige. She was wearing a custom navy silk evening gown that hugged every curve of her frame. Nestled against her clavicle was a platinum-and-diamond pendant that had made headlines at Christie’s Geneva auction last month—sold for three million dollars. She leaned in toward Marcus, murmuring something that made him smile faintly, perfectly composed, perfectly polished. My phone vibrated with trending notifications from social media: Montgomery Capital CEO makes stunning appearance alongside lead aide. The power pair of Wall Street: beauty, brains, and billions. The comment sections were a feeding frenzy: —Look at that waist-to-hip ratio. I spend two hours a day in Equinox and I will never look like that. —God really gave her everything. —She looks like an editorial model, and here I am looking like an inflated balloon. The words inflated balloon burned into my retinas. My hands began to shake uncontrollably. I pressed my trembling palm against my lower belly, catching sight of my reflection in the dark television screen. My cheeks were hollow, my skin gray and sallow, my collarbones protruding like dry branches. “What are we going to do, little one…?” I whispered into the quiet, echoing room. Do I have to terminate this pregnancy? The thought terrified me, tearing through my chest like jagged glass. Before I let myself surrender to that darkness, I resolved to give Marcus one last chance to explain himself. I dialed his number ten times in succession. Ten rings. Ten automated disconnects. Finally, the eleventh time, the line picked up—but it wasn’t Marcus. “Mr. Montgomery is in a closed-door session with our European underwriters,” Paige said, her voice sharp with annoyance. “Could you please show a shred of decorum, Mrs. Montgomery? Stop harassing him every five minutes.” “Put him on the phone, Paige.” “I told you, he is in high-stakes negotiations.” “Then have him call me the second he steps out!” “I apologize, Mrs. Montgomery, but as his executive assistant, it is my professional duty to filter out non-essential domestic interruptions.” I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white. “What gives you the authority to dictate what passes between a husband and his wife?” “If you continue this hysterical behavior,” Paige replied, ice-cold, “Mr. Montgomery will serve you with divorce papers. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The call ended. When I tried again, my number had been blocked. I slid down the cold drywall of the hallway, pulling my knees to my chest in the dim apartment. I opened my bank app. My available balance was one dollar and eighty cents. An outpatient termination procedure at the nearest women’s clinic cost nearly two thousand dollars without insurance clearance. My parents were retired blue-collar workers out in Pennsylvania, living off meager pensions and occasional day-labor gigs that paid barely eighty dollars a shift. Just last week, my mother had wired me a thousand dollars she had pinched together from her savings, begging me to buy vitamins and fresh fruit for the baby. But between the mandatory co-pays for my initial prenatal panel and iron supplements, I had already burnt through eight hundred. They had nothing left to give, and I would rather die than ask them for another dime. Sitting in the unlit room, I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and let out a shuddering, broken breath. In the three years I had known Marcus, outside of normal courtship gifts and prenatal medical bills, I had never asked him for a cent. My parents had refused every single offer of financial assistance from their billionaire son-in-law, fiercely determined to stand on their own two feet so Marcus would never look down on our family. I had thought our restraint, our quiet pride, would keep our love clean. Instead, it had brought me here. My phone screen suddenly lit up. 3 It was Marcus. “You called?” His tone was quiet, almost gentle, carrying that low baritone I used to melt into. But the rage that had been festering in my gut flared instantly. “Did you instruct Paige to slash my daily food allowance in half?” “Yes.” “Marcus, if you want this baby to starve to death, just wire me three thousand dollars right now and I’ll go to the clinic and get an abortion myself.” “What kind of childish tantrum is this?” Marcus’s voice hardened with irritation. “I cut the discretionary spending in half so you would stop wasting funds on vanity and actually spend the remaining balance on real food!” My fingers trembled so badly the phone nearly slipped from my grip. “Do you hear yourself? Was I able to eat ‘real food’ before the cut? When did feeding your pregnant wife become a low-cost nuisance to you, Marcus?” Silence stretched across the line, heavy and strained. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded cold and weary. “Tessa, you’re the one who has lost all perspective on money. Even cut in half, what sits in that account is more than an ordinary family spends in a year. If you want cash for yourself, just ask me. You don’t need to insult my intelligence with pathetic lies about starving.” He exhaled sharply, preparing to hang up, then added, “I’ll authorize another transfer to your daily pool. Don’t steal from the house again.” The call went dead. A minute later, a mobile notification pinged. Paige had authorized the transaction from the family trust ledger. Amount: $1.00. A memo attached from Paige’s business handle: Mrs. Montgomery, Mr. Montgomery reiterated that if your insatiable demands continue, he will proceed with dissolution of marriage. I stared at the screen. One dollar. Added to my remaining checking balance of one dollar and eighty cents, I had exactly two dollars and eighty cents to my name. A plain bagel at the corner bodega cost a dollar fifty. That bagel was my breakfast and my lunch. By nightfall, my stomach was convulsing with hunger cramps. I stood outside the artisanal bakery two blocks down, watching the baker pull fresh, steaming sourdough loaves from the ovens through the window. My mouth watered so violently it made my teeth ache. The clerk behind the counter noticed me hovering near the glass and opened the side door. “Hey, you again? Want a loaf? Five bucks each, or three day-old rolls for four.” “Can I… is there any way I could buy a roll for a dollar?” The clerk frowned, waving a hand. “Sorry, lady. This is artisanal grain. We run on thin margins as it is.” I pulled my coat tighter around my hollow frame and turned away into the autumn wind, telling myself that if I walked away, if I didn’t smell the warm yeast, the gnawing in my belly would stop. It didn’t. The hunger was physical, visceral, clawing at my ribs. Wandering the block, I spotted a young woman closing up a small sandwich shop, tossing large plastic bags of bread crusts and trimmed edges into a compost bin near the curb. I stepped forward, my voice cracking with humiliation. “Excuse me… are those… are you selling those?” She stopped, looking at me curiously. Then her eyes widened. “Wait. Aren’t you… aren’t you that gold-digger on the tabloids? Montgomery’s wife?” I quickly waved my hands, pulling my hood lower over my sunken face. “No. No, you have the wrong person.” “Yeah, figures,” she muttered, shaking her head. “That woman siphons millions out of his accounts. Why would she be asking for stale bread trimmings?” I swallowed the bitter bile in my mouth. “Could I… could I give you fifty cents for half of that bag of crusts?” She stared at me, bewildered. “A quarter of the bag is fine, too,” I whispered, my voice shrinking into the cold air. She looked at my protruding collarbones, sighed, and handed me the entire gallon bag of bread heels. “Keep your change, or give me fifty cents if it makes you feel better.” I gave her fifty cents. With eighty cents of my remaining money, I begged her to sell me a bottle of generic tap water that retailed for a dollar, pleading until she took pity and handed it over. I carried my bag of crusts back up the elevator to our dark, empty penthouse. I didn’t dare turn on the lights. Every utility bill felt like another excuse for Marcus to accuse me of extravagance. Huddled in the corner beneath the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminated only by the cold neon glow of Manhattan traffic below, I shoved the dry, chewy bread crusts into my mouth, chewing desperately. A dry chunk caught in my throat. I gagged, coughing violently, and reached for the water bottle. My fingers were so weak, trembling from hypoglycemia, that I couldn’t break the plastic seal. I twisted with everything I had. The plastic ring snapped, but the sudden force jerked the bottle from my grip. It hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud. Clear water gushed across the floorboards, soaking into the rug. I scrambled on my knees, desperately scooping at the puddle, trying to funnel the remaining liquid in the neck into my parched mouth, but only three drops touched my tongue. I broke. I curled over my knees on the floor, clutching the empty plastic bottle, sobbing so hard my chest heaved. Through my tears, my gaze landed on the kitchen sink in the darkness. Our building’s filtered delivery service charged a delivery fee per five-gallon jug. Paige had canceled that account two weeks ago. 4 I dragged myself across the floor to the kitchen sink, reached up, and turned the heavy brass faucet. Untreated municipal tap water, smelling faintly of old pipes and chlorine, poured out. I cupped my shaking hands beneath the stream and swallowed mouthful after mouthful, choking on the rush. My stomach bloated instantly, rejecting the cold deluge. I collapsed against the lower cabinets, coughing until tears and bile spilled onto the marble floor. Around me lay the spilled water, the soggy paper bag, and a few scattered crumbs of dry bread. I lay curled on the tile, gasping for breath, weeping until my ribs burned. When the dry crumbs were gone, the black spots danced behind my eyes again. To silence the tearing ache in my stomach, I drank more tap water, forcing my belly to stretch with cold liquid just to trick my nervous system into feeling full. Only when my abdomen felt tight and sloshing did the trembling subside enough for me to drift into an exhausted, feverish sleep on the floor. The next morning, my phone buzzed at seven sharp. It was Paige. “The smart scale in your master bathroom logged your weight this morning,” she said, her voice crisp and robotic. “You gained another pound overnight. Your rate of weight gain is officially out of control. Effective today, your food allowance is reduced by half again.” The daily deposit notification appeared on my screen. Amount: $2.00. I lay on the cold tiles, staring up at the ceiling, too drained to scream. “Is this Marcus’s decision as well?” “Yes,” she replied flatly, and hung up. I didn’t even have the energy to feel anger. Two dollars. If I tried to survive on two dollars today, my baby and I would both collapse before the sun went down. I pushed myself up, my joints aching, and walked into Marcus’s private study. I stood before the concealed steel safe behind his bookshelf. My fingers hesitated over the keypad. I entered six digits: my birthday. A soft click echoed through the quiet room. The heavy door swung open. He hadn’t changed the combination. It was still the date he had set three years ago when we first moved in together. Inside, banded stacks of hundred-dollar bills were neatly arranged beside blue leather binders containing corporate deeds, bearer bonds, and velvet cases of museum-grade gemstones. My hands shook. I didn’t touch the binders or the jewels. I slipped my fingers into a loose band of currency and pulled out a single green bill. One hundred dollars. “Just one,” I whispered to the empty room, tears blurring my vision as I pushed the heavy safe door shut until the electronic lock engaged. “Just one bill. It won’t hurt him. He won’t notice.” I took the elevator down to street level and walked straight into the noodle bar on the corner. I ordered a steaming bowl of braised beef noodles and sat by the window. The moment the server set the bowl down, I plunged my chopsticks in, lifting a massive clump of noodles toward my mouth. Before the first bite could touch my lips, the wail of a siren cut through the morning air. A squad car screeched to a halt outside the window. Two uniformed officers rushed through the glass door, their hands on their holsters. Within seconds, cold metal ratcheted around my wrists, pinning my hands behind my back. “Tessa Montgomery? You’re under arrest for grand larceny and domestic burglary. Step away from the table.” “Wait! Please!” I cried out, my voice cracking in humiliation as the other patrons turned to stare. “Please, just let me finish this bowl! I’ll cooperate, I swear! Just let me eat!” The officers didn’t hesitate. They hauled me up by my arms, dragging me away from the untouched, steaming bowl of broth. At the precinct, I learned that Marcus had canceled a multi-million-dollar overseas roadshow the moment the alarm tripped on his safe. He sat across from me in the interrogation room, his bespoke overcoat unbuttoned, his face dark with suppressed fury. “Do you have any idea what was in that safe?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “That was the liquid reserve designated for our child’s trust.” I ignored him. My head was down, my face buried in a cup of instant noodles that a sympathetic desk sergeant had handed me five minutes ago. I slurped the salty, MSG-laden broth like it was nectar from heaven. Marcus’s jaw twitched. “Stealing from the corporate holdings was one thing, Tessa. But taking the money set aside for your own unborn child? Are you completely devoid of a conscience?” I drained the cardboard cup until not a drop remained, set it on the metal table, and looked up at the female officer standing by the door. “Is there… could I have another one, please?” “Tessa! Stop playing dumb!” Marcus slammed his palm against the steel table with a deafening crack. “Where did the money go? Where did you wire our child’s trust funds?” “Don’t interrupt my meal,” I muttered. The female officer walked over and set a second steaming cup of instant noodles in front of me. I tore the plastic fork open and began eating immediately, my throat burning as I swallowed the hot noodles whole. A look of pure disgust crossed Marcus’s face. He clearly couldn’t bear to look at me a second longer. He turned toward the senior partner of his private legal firm, who was standing quietly in the corner of the room. “File the charges under the harshest statutory guidelines,” Marcus instructed, his voice ruthless. “Whatever the maximum sentence for first-degree grand larceny is in this jurisdiction, seek it. No leniency. No plea bargains.” “Understood, Mr. Montgomery,” the lawyer murmured, taking notes on a tablet. “You’re hiring the best attorneys in the state to lock me up?” I swallowed the last mouthful of broth, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and looked straight into his dark eyes. Marcus frowned, pausing by the door. I stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the concrete floor. “Marcus Montgomery, if you have any real power, tell your high-priced lawyers to get me life without parole! Let me stay in a federal penitentiary for the rest of my days!” 5 “What kind of nonsense are you spewing now?” His scowl deepened, his eyebrows drawing tight with impatience. “Nonsense? I’m dead serious, Marcus! I pray to God you lock me away for life!” I laughed, a shrill, hysterical sound that scraped against my dry throat. “Because at least in prison, nobody docks my food rations! The Department of Corrections feeds inmates three square meals a day! They even give pregnant women supplemental milk and fruit! I have had enough of being your high-society trophy! Compared to being your starved, humiliated wife, I’d rather be a convicted felon!” “I restricted your discretionary accounts so you would stop blowing millions on worthless luxury goods!” Marcus looked at me as though I were completely deranged. I burst into bitter, helpless laughter. “Luxury goods? You honestly believe I can afford luxury goods? I’m not your precious secretary, Marcus! I don’t get gifted three-million-dollar diamond pendants from Geneva auctions! I don’t get dressed in custom haute couture to walk arm-in-arm with you at global summits while the entire internet hails us as the golden couple! Just because I got pregnant, just because my body dared to change, I wasn’t even fit to be seen in public with you!” Marcus’s entire frame went rigid. He slowly turned around, his eyes locking onto mine with sudden, sharp intensity. “What are you talking about?” “Isn’t that what you ordered?” My eyes stung, tears finally spilling over my hollow cheeks. “You had a smart-monitoring scale installed in our bathroom, demanding I log my weight every morning. And the second the scale ticked up, you slashed my grocery allowance. From eight dollars a day, down to four! From four dollars down to two! You bought Paige Nichols a three-million-dollar necklace, but when I took a single one-hundred-dollar bill from your safe just so I wouldn’t faint from starvation, you called the police to send me to prison!” Standing behind Marcus, the senior legal counsel’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. “Mrs. Montgomery… Mr. Montgomery never authorized—” “Hold on,” Marcus commanded, raising a hand to cut his lawyer off. He stepped forward, crossing the distance between us until he was towering over the metal table. He leaned down, his eyes scanning my gaunt face, my sunken collarbones, the papery texture of my skin. “Keep talking,” he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly, trembling whisper. “Tell me everything.” “You even…” The room suddenly tilted. A black curtain dropped over my peripheral vision. The air was sucked out of my lungs. I heard Marcus cry out my name in terror, his voice cracking with a panic I hadn’t heard in years. Then the darkness swallowed me whole. When my consciousness flickered back, the pungent smell of antiseptic filled my nose. Above me, a clear IV bag was slowly dripping saline and yellow-tinted lipids into a catheter in the back of my hand. A nurse was adjusting the flow rate, her expression furious as she looked at Marcus standing beside the bed. “Severe maternal malnutrition,” the nurse scolded, keeping her voice tight and scathing. “Her BMI is dangerously below clinical thresholds. She’s carrying twins of early development, yet her weight is barely enough to sustain an adolescent. Are you her husband? Do you not feed your wife?” Marcus stood there, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. He didn’t offer a single word of defense. The nurse shot him one final look of pure disgust, scribbled on the chart, and exited the room, pulling the privacy curtain shut. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, answered with one hand, and spoke in a low, clipped tone: “Cancel all roadshows. Postpone the board meeting indefinitely. I don’t care about the quarterly losses. I have a critical personal matter to handle.” He hung up, pocketed the device, and sat down on the edge of my hospital mattress. He reached out toward my hand, his eyes red-rimmed with profound worry. I turned my head away, staring cold-eyed at the blank white wall. “Tessa,” he began softly, his voice trembling slightly. “That smart monitoring scale… didn’t you ask for it?” “Why on earth would I ask for a machine to police my body?” He hesitated, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Paige told me you wanted to monitor your maternal fitness… to keep your dancer’s figure from slipping.” “When did I ever say that to you?” His jaw tightened. “You never told her you were going on a strict pregnancy diet?” “I am carrying your child, Marcus!” I turned, my hand flying out and striking him across the cheek. Slap. I had put everything I had into it, but my body was so depleted that the blow landed as little more than a weak brush against his stubble. Yet his eyes instantly welled with tears. He grabbed my trembling, ice-cold hand and pressed it against his cheek, holding on as if I were slipping off a cliff. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I didn’t verify it. I was buried in the merger, and every time the accounting alerts came through, Paige showed me invoices from luxury houses… I thought you were compulsively spending to act out.” I laughed, a dry, hollow rattle. With my free hand, I unlocked my phone from the bedside table and shoved the screen in his face. “I was constantly asking for money because your office was feeding me on two dollars a day!” Marcus stared at the banking app. His pupils contracted into tiny pinpricks. He pulled the phone closer, his fingers rapidly scrolling through the transaction log: + 8.00fromMontgomeryFamilyOffice.∗∗+8.00fromMontgomeryFamilyOffice.∗∗+ 4.00 from Montgomery Family Office. + 1.00fromMontgomeryFamilyOffice.∗∗+1.00fromMontgomeryFamilyOffice.∗∗+ 2.00 from Montgomery Family Office. Line after line. Day after day. The color drained entirely from his face, leaving him as pale as a corpse.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “617936”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 For ten years, I lived in Chase Prescott’s shadow. I was his shadow. When he left for London, our relationship shifted across the nine-hour time difference into something strange and commanding. He started making me call him Sir. He demanded things through glowing screens that made my chest tighten with a suffocating, unfamiliar heat. Good boy. Show Sir how pretty you look when you touch yourself. Do what you’re told, Sean, and there’s five grand waiting in your account. I didn’t entirely understand that world—the rituals of control, the sharp edge of submission. But whatever Chase asked of me, I did. I blushed until the tips of my ears burned, set my phone against the headboard, and obeyed every single command. Tonight was his welcome-back party at an exclusive downtown lounge. Traffic on FDR Drive was crawling, and by the time I made it through the velvet curtains and down the dimly lit corridor of private suites, I was desperately late. My palm was already sweating against the heavy brass door handle when Chase’s cold, smooth baritone cut through the frosted glass. “Oh, Sean?” Chase let out an amused, dry puff of air. “Come on. He’s been trailing behind me since we were seven years old. Once we started dating, he turned into this clingy, suffocating little thing. I couldn’t breathe.” A beat of silence followed, then the distinct sound of ice clinking against crystal. “Thank God I had Damian take over the account while I was in Europe,” Chase added casually. “He never even noticed. Sean’s been orbiting me his entire life. Frankly, I got bored of playing with him a long time ago.” I stood there, paralyzed, my hand welded to the handle. Inside the private booth, a chorus of drunken laughter erupted. “Holy shit, Chase. You’re diabolical.” “Handing Sean over to Damian Cole? You’ve got some nerve. Sean is so docile, so easy to walk over. He doesn’t stand a chance against someone like Damian.” Chase flicked his lighter. I could hear the faint snap-click of his silver Cartier. “It’s fine,” he murmured through a cloud of smoke. “You all know Damian doesn’t care about men.” Someone else scoffed, clearly disagreeing. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, man.” “Have you looked at Sean lately? Anyone with a pulse would want a piece of that.” “I swear, you drop one dirty joke around him and his whole neck turns crimson. The kid is ridiculously sensitive. Remember last spring when someone accidentally touched the dimple of his lower back? He curled up like a live wire shocked him. Most guys couldn’t keep their hands to themselves if they tried.” “If he were my boyfriend, I’d keep him in bed all day.” “Back in prep school, those varsity seniors wouldn’t stop cornering him until Chase stepped in and threatened their families. What if—and I’m just saying what if—Damian actually lost his self-control?” Through the glass, the room fell momentarily quiet. I could almost picture Chase’s brows drawing together into that sharp, irritated line he got whenever his territory was questioned. Another voice quickly broke the tension with a laugh. “What are you even talking about? As if anyone could pull Sean away. His entire universe revolves around Chase. Even if Damian stood in front of him completely naked, Sean wouldn’t spare him a second glance.” The edge in Chase’s tone softened slightly. Then one of his closer fraternity brothers asked, “Speaking of which, Chase… you had a revolving door of flings in Europe. Guys, girls, half the nightlife scene in Mayfair. What’s the play here? Isn’t Sean still your boyfriend?” “He grew up in your house. He’s terrified of strangers, completely attached to you. You used to take him everywhere like an extension of your own arm. What changed?” Chase’s voice lowered, sounding almost contemplative, though devoid of any real warmth. “Sean is good. He’s gentle, obedient, totally devoted to me. If I tell him to walk into traffic, he’ll ask which lane. Sometimes I lose my temper and take it out on him over nothing, and he just bites down on his pillow and takes it. He doesn’t even cry out loud.” The ice shifted in his glass. “The problem is… it’s too easy. Since we were kids, I’ve been the only person in his life. His entire world is the size of a thimble, and he shoved all of it onto me. I never had to chase him. I never had to court him or buy him flowers or wonder where he was on a Friday night. He was just there. Permanent. Predictable.” “At first, it was convenient. Then it became exhausting.” “I raised him, in a way. I didn’t want to break his heart while I was overseas—if he cried, it would just annoy me and make me feel guilty. But I’m a grown man. I’m not a monk. I’m not going to spend my twenties tied down to a domestic pet.” “I needed to get it all out of my system. Once I’m done having my fun, I’ll settle down with him.” Someone snorted. “No wonder you tore through half of London. You were starving.” “Man, if Sean ever finds out, he’ll cry until he goes blind.” Chase’s tone cooled instantly, slipping into the commanding timbre that Brookline society boys used when giving orders to the staff. “There’s no reason for him to ever know. What happened overseas stays there. Every single one of you keeps your mouth shut.” 2 I don’t know what kind of unyielding, desperate grip on my dignity kept me from tearing that door open and screaming in Chase’s face. My mother was the live-in housekeeper for the Prescott estate. When my father died of congestive heart failure when I was seven, my mother had to work seventy hours a week just to keep us afloat. She couldn’t afford childcare, so she brought me along to the manor, tucking me into the utility pantry with picture books. She drilled it into my head every morning: Master Chase is the Prescott heir. He’s an only child, raised on silk and silver spoons, and his temper is vicious. You cater to him, Sean. You make him like you. If he complains, we lose our room and our bread. I was terrified of being cast out onto the streets, so I nodded until my neck ached. What surprised my mother was that Chase took to me instantly. The moment he saw me standing in the sunlit foyer in my frayed sneakers, he demanded that I sleep in his bedroom on the adjoining twin cot. The very next morning, he dragged his mother down the grand staircase and told her I was going to St. Jude’s Prep with him. Mrs. Prescott was so thrilled her temperamental, reclusive son had found a playmate that she paid the forty-thousand-dollar annual tuition without blinking. My mother cried tears of gratitude and told me to treat Chase like royalty. And I did. I carried his tennis bags, brought him water before he asked for it, memorized every food allergy and preference he had, and became his perpetual shadow. Chase was notoriously prickly with other kids, but around me, his edges softened. From the time we were seven, we were inseparable. His possessiveness was quiet, heavy, and suffocating. By high school, if I laughed too loudly with a lab partner or spent ten minutes talking to someone in the hallway after class, he would brood all evening. The moment we walked through the heavy doors of the estate, he would haul me upstairs into his room, lock the deadbolt, and throw me over his knee without a word. He struck hard enough to leave welts. I would bury my face in his duvet, biting into the down filling, shaking and swallowing my sobs because crying made him strike harder. When he was done, he would scoop me up into his arms, using the edge of his thumb to gently wipe away my tears. Sean, look at me. You don’t need anyone else in this world. You only need me. I hated the pain, hated the humiliation, but I was so young and so conditioned that I would nod through my tears. Okay. Just you. Slowly, methodically, my world shrank until there was no one left in it except Chase Prescott. I developed a severe, paralyzing social anxiety. I didn’t know how to look people in the eye, didn’t know how to navigate casual friendships, and was terrified of saying the wrong thing. When we got to college, Chase’s social circle expanded like an explosion. I dragged myself to parties I hated, clinging to his sleeve like a frightened child because the noise and the sea of bodies made my chest constrict. At one of those crowded loft parties, I saw two guys kissing against the brick wall near the balcony. I stopped dead, staring in pure bewilderment. Chase leaned down, smelling of bourbon and mint, a lazy smirk on his lips. “What’s wrong? Never seen two men together before?” He tilted my chin up. “Want to try it with me?” Before I could form a sentence, his mouth was on mine. He kissed me thoroughly, tasting like expensive liquor and authority, leaving me dizzy and breathless on the balcony. By the time he pulled back, I had nodded yes to whatever he wanted. Once we were officially together, my clinging grew worse. I refreshed my phone constantly, waiting for his texts. Wherever he went, I wanted to be there, not because I wanted to control him, but because the rest of the world felt cold and terrifying without him anchored beside me. Once, he went to a dive bar with a group of friends and told me I wasn’t allowed inside because the crowd was too rough. He told me to go home. I didn’t. I stood outside on the damp street corner until three in the morning, shivering under my coat, waiting so we could share an Uber back to the apartment. When he finally stumbled out and saw me standing under the flickering neon sign, his face drained of color. He frantically tugged his scarf up, but not before I caught a glimpse of dark, purple bruises along the side of his neck. People in his circle started making jokes about how Chase had a lapdog on a leash. And Chase began to grow visibly resentful. One night, after coming back from a weekend trip, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me with an expression that made my stomach drop. “Sean… don’t you think you’re being a little too dependent on me?” He caught himself, softening his tone with that practiced charm, but the underlying disgust lingered. “I mean, look around. You’re in college. There are thousands of people on campus. Don’t you get tired of following me everywhere? Don’t you want your own friends?” I shook my head immediately. “No. I’m happy just being with you.” He offered a smile, but it was hollow, worn down to the bone by a quiet, profound exhaustion. “Right. Whatever you say.” After that, his absences grew longer. Study groups, Greek life events, venture capital pitch competitions—there was always an excuse. When I asked if he was free for the weekend, he said he was going camping upstate with some guys from his fraternity. “Can I come?” I asked quietly. He paused for several long seconds before looking away. “It’s just guys from the house, Sean. You don’t know them. You’d be miserable. Next time.” I waited through a dozen “next times” until the news hit me like a physical blow: Chase had enrolled in an exchange program in London for the year. I was the last person to find out. We were supposed to be in love. We shared a bed. I spent an entire week crying in the dark, convinced I had ruined everything by being too needy. I sent him essays apologizing for my existence, begging him to tell me what I’d done wrong so I could fix it. Then, about three weeks after he landed in the UK, his behavior suddenly took a sharp turn. His texts became warm, attentive, almost obsessive. He started checking in on me constantly, asking what I was wearing, what I was thinking about. Eventually, the messages turned explicitly sensual. Baby, I just got out of the shower. Just a towel around my waist. Want to see my abs? Do you like how hard I look right here? Tell me to pull the towel down lower, baby. Tell me you want it. I was completely helpless against it. My mouth went dry, my pulse hammering in my throat as I typed back: I want to see. Please. Pull it down. Lower. Then the photos would come through—high-definition, dripping with raw, carnal tension. Chiseled lines of muscle, a dark trail of hair leading down to thick, breathtaking size that pressed against the edge of the frame. I was mesmerized. I had never known Chase’s body looked like that. In person, he had always kept the lights low or turned away when he changed. The texts stripped away every shred of my timidity. I started calling him baby, typing out shameless, filthy confessions I never would have dared speak aloud. Occasionally, the screen would light up with an odd question: Baby, do you know Damian Cole? I would frown at the screen, confused. The name sounds familiar, but I don’t really know him. Why are you asking about him, babe? The typing bubble would appear and vanish for minutes before he simply replied: Nothing. Just wondering. Then came the night my asthma flared. I had moved into a small, third-floor studio apartment after graduation. It was raining, the air heavy and damp, and my inhaler was empty on the counter. The attack hit me so fast my knees gave out. As the darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, I managed to send a scrambled, misspelled text to Chase’s phone. The next thing I registered was being lifted. Strong, steady arms cradled me against a broad chest. A deep, panicked voice was speaking right into my ear, but the words blurred into static. When I opened my eyes hours later in the emergency clinic, a man was sitting in the plastic chair beside my bed. He was breathtaking. He had the kind of sharp, devastating bone structure that belonged on a runway, with cold gray eyes and an aristocratic jawline that made Chase look almost ordinary by comparison. Seeing me stir, the tight tension in his face visibly relaxed. “How are you feeling? Can you breathe?” I stared at him, dazed. “…Who are you?” He hesitated, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that made my skin prickle. “Damian. Damian Cole.” When I asked how he had known to find me, he explained that Chase had panicked from London and called him, begging him to check on me because they were close friends. I believed every word. I thanked him profusely. From that day forward, Damian showed up at my apartment under the guise of Chase’s instructions. He brought groceries, fixed my radiator, and cooked meals that belonged in five-star restaurants. Every time I tried to tell him he didn’t need to babysit me, he would slide a plate of braised short ribs or honey-glazed wings in front of me to shut me up. “You really don’t have to keep doing this,” I told him once, using every ounce of willpower I had. “I can take care of myself.” Damian only smiled, wiping down my stove with practiced ease. “Chase is terrified you’ll pass out again. He made me promise to watch over you.” “Did he really say that?” I asked, a faint flush rising on my cheeks. “Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.” I did. And Chase’s account had replied immediately: Yes, baby, I asked him. You live alone and your lungs are weak. I can’t sleep at night unless I know someone is there to keep an eye on you. Let him help. I swallowed the lie whole. I tried to keep a polite, distant boundary between Damian and me. Until last night. A nor’easter had slammed into the city, flooding the streets and rattling the old windowpanes. The roads were hazardous, and I couldn’t in good conscience let Damian drive back to his loft in Tribeca, so I insisted he take the pull-out couch in my living room. Around two in the morning, I padded into the hallway to get a glass of water. Damian’s door was cracked an inch. I reached out to pull it shut to give him privacy. And then the breath died in my throat. Damian was sitting on the edge of the bed in the dim glow of the streetlamp outside. In his right hand, gripped tightly against his bare thigh, was a pair of plain white cotton briefs. My briefs. The pair I had spent two weeks searching for in the laundry basket. His head was thrown back, his eyes shut tight, his sharp throat bobbing violently as ragged, suffocating groans tore from his chest. His fist pumped in a frantic, desperate rhythm, wrapping my fabric around his thick cock as if it were my hands holding him, my touch giving him what he was too terrified to ask for in the light of day. I stood frozen in the dark, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. That was the exact moment I realized Damian Cole wasn’t just doing a favor for a friend. He was drowning in an obsession with me. Yet he was Chase’s friend. I didn’t want to make things ugly or cause a scene, so I backed away on silent feet and pretended I had seen nothing. My plan for tonight had been simple: take Chase aside at his welcome party, tell him quietly about what Damian had done with my underwear, and ask him to tell Damian to stop coming over. Instead, I had stood outside that lounge door and heard the truth. Chase hadn’t grown protective of me. He hadn’t changed into a caring, attentive partner. He had thrown his login credentials to his best friend like scraps from a dinner table because dealing with me was too tedious. They had been playing me together from the very beginning. 3 I wiped the cold tracks of tears from my face, turned around, and walked out of the club into the freezing drizzle. By the time I unlocked the door to my apartment, my fingers were numb. Inside, the lights were warm. Damian was standing over the sink in the small laundry alcove, his sleeves pushed past his forearms, scrubbing my underwear by hand with lavender soap. The image of him last night—head thrown back, choking on his own breath with my cotton crushed in his fist—flashed through my mind with sickening clarity. A sharp buzz went off in my skull. I crossed the room in three strides and snatched the fabric right out of the soapy water. “I told you the washing machine is right there,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. Damian didn’t flinch. He turned off the tap, shaking the foam from his large hands, his expression as patient and gentle as an older brother’s. “The spin cycle ruins delicate cotton. Hand-washing is better.” “I have two hands. I can do it myself.” “Sean,” he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, soothing cadence that always made my spine tingle. “Be good. I clean them better.” The words I have a boyfriend, this is inappropriate rose to the tip of my tongue, but they died before they could cross my lips. A boyfriend? Did I actually have one? Chase had handed me over to Damian months ago like an old toy he didn’t feel like putting away. A bitter, stinging ache rose behind my eyes. Chase had spent a decade locking me in a cage of his own making, punishing me every time I smiled at another human being, until I was reduced to a frightened, awkward recluse who couldn’t function without his permission. He broke my legs, then called me pathetic for limping. Even after Chase told Damian to take care of me, I had maintained every boundary. When Damian was in the apartment, I barely spoke. I timed my showers so I wouldn’t cross his path in a towel. I kept an exact three-foot perimeter between us at all times. And for what? So Chase could brag to a room full of prep-school snobs that I was too easy? That I had no value because I didn’t put up a fight? If Chase wanted to play games, why was I sitting on the sidelines keeping score for him? Damian was wealthier than Chase, better-looking than Chase, and treated me like porcelain. If someone was going to play with me, why shouldn’t it be him? I dropped the wet fabric back into the enamel basin. “Fine,” I said, meeting his gray eyes squarely. “Wash them.” Damian blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Since you like doing it so much,” I continued, offering a faint, deliberate smile, “you can handle all of my laundry from now on.” His pupils dilated slightly. “Are you serious?” “Of course. If you want to do my chores, I should be thanking you.” I took a step back toward the hallway. “I’m going up to change. Wash whatever I leave in the basket, okay?” I caught the hard, sudden swallow in his throat. A small, dangerous smile touched his lips. “Consider it done.” 4 For dinner, Damian prepared a table full of my favorite dishes: roasted sea bass, garlic greens, and sweet-soy glazed wings. I kept my head down, eating quietly. Damian pulled a cloth napkin from the holder and gently dabbed at a stray smudge of sauce near the corner of my mouth. The gesture was unhurried, utterly natural, his knuckles grazing my cheekbone just a second longer than necessary. “Sean,” he said softly. “Would it be alright if I stayed here permanently?” I looked up from my plate. He kept his expression carefully neutral. “You’ve had two attacks this month. The cold weather is coming in, and the radiator in the building is unreliable. I don’t like the idea of you being alone.” Under normal circumstances, I would have panicked and rejected the idea instantly. Tonight, I chewed my food, swallowed, and set my fork down. “The attacks have been pretty bad lately,” I said smoothly. “I’ve been anxious about it too. If you’re here, I’ll feel a lot safer.” A flash of raw triumph flared in Damian’s eyes before he masked it with a polite nod. “Then I’ll bring the rest of my things over tomorrow.” Later that evening, while Damian was in the shower, I walked over to the nightstand where he had left his phone. I typed in the passcode—my birthday, a hunch that proved sickeningly correct—and opened his messages with Chase. Chase: Where the hell are you? Damian: At Sean’s place. Chase: What are you doing over there this late? Damian: His asthma flared up again this week. I’m not leaving him alone in an old walk-up during a freeze. Chase: Yeah, well, make sure that’s all you’re doing. I asked you to keep an eye on him, Damian. Don’t overstep. Damian: I thought you said you were sick of him clinging to you. Damian: What, did you get your fill in London and now you want to come back to your old territory? Aren’t you afraid he’ll figure out what you’ve been doing? Chase: What happens between Sean and me is none of your business. Chase: Besides, that kid can’t survive without me. Even if he found out, two sweet words and he’d come crawling back wagging his tail. He couldn’t shake me if he tried. I stared at that final sentence until the black letters blurred into jagged lines. My chest burned. The familiar, humiliating sting of tears threatened to spill over, but I clenched my teeth and forced them back down. He isn’t worth a single drop, I told myself. Not anymore. The pipes clanked as the shower turned off. I locked the screen, placed the phone back on the nightstand at the exact angle I found it, and slipped into my bedroom. I opened the bottom drawer of my dresser. Tucked beneath my winter sweaters was a velvet pouch. Inside were two small, silver-plated clamps connected by a delicate chain, each tipped with tiny silver bells. Damian had mailed them to me three weeks ago under Chase’s name, texting me that my chest was so fair and pink that these would look exquisite on me. I had been terrified of them at the time. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, stripped off my shirt, and looked at my reflection. My skin was pale, my ribcage delicate. Taking a slow, trembling breath, I squeezed the tension spring of the first clamp and fastened it directly over my nipple. A sharp, electric bolt of pain shot through my chest, forcing a ragged gasp from my throat. My toes curled against the hardwood floor. I caught my breath, then fastened the other side. With every inhalation, the tiny bells chimed softly—ting, ting—in the quiet of the bedroom. I pulled out my phone, framed the shot from my collarbones down to the taut curve of my stomach, and sent the image directly to the account Chase had abandoned. Babe. I’m in my room. Look what I put on for you. The reply came back within five seconds: You said you were too scared of the pain. Why tonight? Good boy… Tug on the little bells for Sir, Sean. Let me see how pretty you look when it hurts. Heat rushed up my neck. My heart thudded against my ribs like a hammer. I reached up with two shaking fingers, gripped the silver chain on the left, and gave it a sharp, testing tug. The bell let out a clear, high ring. A jolt of pure fire flared through my nerves. I doubled over slightly, biting down hard on my lower lip to swallow the whimper, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. The screen stayed dark for ten agonizing seconds before the text popped up: Good boy. Now pull the other one for me. We kept at it until two in the morning, messages pinging back and forth in a feverish, degrading blur of commands and obedience. By the time I unfastened the metal and walked out of the en-suite bathroom in a loose, thin t-shirt, my chest was swollen and intensely pink. Damian was standing in the hallway, holding a glass of ice water. The moment his eyes dropped to the two distinct, inflamed circles pressing against the thin fabric of my shirt, the blood rushed into his face so fast that the tips of his ears turned a violent, dark crimson.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “617935”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At eight, my brother Kyle unplugged my mechanical heart to charge his phone. Found blue and suffocating, I survived but suffered permanent nerve damage from oxygen deprivation. After that, Kyle became a ghost in our home. Our parents stopped smiling at him, stopped speaking to him, pouring every ounce of themselves into keeping me alive. Father took a grueling offshore job to pay my heart’s maintenance fees. Mother quit hers to watch over me, vowing lifelong penance to beg God for my years. I believed I had parents who loved me fiercely, despite my broken body. Until the national college placement deadline. The house lost power. As the countdown ticked, Mother didn’t hesitate. She ripped the backup battery from my heart to power the laptop. My chest erupted in a shrill alarm. I reached for her. “Mom, no… my heart needs…” She spun, slapping me hard. “Because of this battery, your brother has been punished for ten years! Other backups exist! Why are you so selfish? You ruined his childhood, now you’ll destroy his future?” She snatched the battery and shoved me into my bedroom, locking the door. Minutes later, the portal closed. Through the wood, I heard their ecstatic cheers. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the floor. … The piercing alarm of my heart gradually slowed, fading into a flat, hollow hum. I whispered into the darkness, “Mom, I won’t be a burden to you anymore.” As I fell, the back of my head slammed against the sharp edge of the desk. Warm, sticky blood began to pool beneath me. The room spun, darkness encroaching from the edges of my vision. My body grew ice-cold. I tried to scream, to drag myself toward the door. “Mom… help… please, save me…” But the nerve damage from my childhood medical crisis chose this exact moment to paralyze me. I lay on the floor, my muscles spasming, a violent wave of nausea making me dry-heave. My throat felt as though it had been filled with wet cement. I could not even make a sound. Outside, my mother was wrapping her arms around Kyle, pressing a proud kiss to his forehead. “My boy, I knew you could do it! You’re going to change your life!” “Not like your brother, always sick, dragging this entire family down into the dirt. Well, today is a happy day. Let’s not talk about him.” A crushing ache bloomed in my chest. Tears slipped silently down my temples. My mother did not know that the other backup batteries in the closet had died months ago. I had noticed, but because I knew how hard my father worked overseas to send money home, I kept quiet. I figured one working backup battery was enough. I never imagined it would end like this. With the last ounce of strength in my fingers, I clawed at the heavy wooden bookshelf beside me, hoping to make enough noise to alert her. The shelf groaned, then came crashing down in a deafening roar. A faint wave of relief washed over me. Surely, with a noise that loud, she would come running. But the crash only startled her, and she immediately assumed I was throwing a tantrum. “Toby! What is wrong with you?” she screamed through the door. “Just because we borrowed your power source for a few minutes, you throw a fit like a toddler?” The more she spoke, the angrier she became, her voice cracking with resentment. “What did I ever do to deserve this? The entire family has run ourselves ragged to pay for your treatments! We ignored Kyle for ten years, putting every single scrap of our attention on you! Is that still not enough?” I heard her keys jangling as she rushed to the door. “If you have a problem, say it to my face! What is this silent treatment supposed to mean?” But the heavy bookshelf had wedged itself perfectly against the doorframe. No matter how hard she rattled the knob, the door would not budge. “I brought your battery back, Toby! Open the door!” But my lungs were empty. My face was turning blue, my lips dark, and vomit was catching in my throat. I tapped my fingers weakly against the floorboards, trying to make any sound. But it was too faint. She could not hear it over her own anger. Assuming I was just ignoring her, she let out a furious scream and threw the battery hard against the wood. “Fine! Keep acting like a spoiled brat! See if I care!” “You won’t be happy until you’ve driven me to my grave! I sacrificed my life for you, and you turned into this selfish monster!” “You are just jealous because Kyle scored better than you! Toby, you utterly disgust me!” My heart was barely twitching now, yet the phantom pain was agonizing. In my mind, I screamed, Mom, I’m not! I placed first in the entire state! I wanted to surprise you and Dad! I’m not jealous of Kyle! But there would be no surprise. Only horror. Kyle tugged at my mother’s arm, his voice dripping with sweet consolation. “Mom, don’t be angry. You still have me. Toby is just having a hard time accepting things. I’ll talk to him later.” The anger melted from her face instantly. She pulled him into a warm embrace. “Oh, Kyle. At least you are sensible. If only your brother had half your maturity, I could die happy.” I slipped into a cold, crushing dark. My eyelids felt like lead. The blood from the back of my head had pooled so deep it was beginning to seep under the crack of the door. Just as my conscious mind began to fade, the front door burst open. “Toby! Dad’s home!” A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. My father loved me. He would check on me first. His footsteps drew closer. I curled my body, fighting the agony to blink my eyes open. I thought I felt a ghost of warmth return to my limbs. But before he could reach my door, Kyle dashed across the foyer and threw himself into my father’s arms. “Dad! You’re finally back! I missed you so much!” My father frowned, instinctively reaching to pat him and move past. But my mother chimed in with a beaming smile. “Kyle did amazing on his placement exams, Thomas! He might get into a top-tier state university!” The exhaustion vanished from my father’s face, replaced by pure joy. “Really? That’s incredible! What do you want as a reward, Kyle? Dad will get you whatever you want.” Kyle smiled shyly. “Having you and Mom healthy is the only reward I need.” My father’s eyes filled with tears. My mother turned away to wipe her own. While I lay dying behind the door, choking on my own blood. I wanted to scream, but a thick, metallic taste flooded my mouth, choking out my words. My father finally looked around. “Where is Toby? How is he doing?” My mother curled her lip. “Toby? He’s throwing a tantrum in his room because Kyle outscored him. He thinks he’s too good for us now. I’ve been calling him for hours and he won’t say a word.” My father fell silent, letting out a heavy sigh. He walked over and knocked gently on my door. “Toby? It’s Dad. Can you open the door, please? I bought that strawberry cake you love. It doesn’t matter how you did on the exams, Toby. Dad loves you no matter what.” Behind the locked door, I was covered in blood, my face a terrible shade of blue. Tears and blood mingled, soaking into my collar. I’m sorry, Dad, I whispered in my mind. I’m so sorry I was such a burden. I’m sorry… The silence in my room remained absolute. My mother’s patience snapped. She marched over and kicked the door hard. “Toby! Are you dead in there? Where are your manners? Your father is talking to you, and you can’t even offer a single word? He worked his fingers to the bone for you, and this is how you treat him?” Mom, just open the door, I begged silently. Open it and you’ll see me. My father quickly pulled her back. “Lower your voice. He’s just upset right now.” My mother yanked her arm away and stormed toward the master bedroom. “Fine! Let’s ignore him! Let him play his little game. Let’s see if he can go the rest of his life without speaking to us!” The footsteps faded. I had used up my last breath of life. The cybernetic pump in my chest gave one final, violent shudder, and then stopped forever. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing up. I felt weightless, and the chronic, suffocating pain that had haunted me for years was entirely gone. Overjoyed, I ran toward my parents. “Dad! Mom! I’m cured! I’m not going to be a burden anymore!” But my hand passed right through my mother’s shoulder. I stared at my translucent fingers, and the horrifying truth settled in. I was dead. My mother was sitting on the couch, her face buried in her hands as she wept. “Is he trying to kill me? If anything happens to him, how am I supposed to go on?” I bit my lip, reaching out to brush away her tears. “I’m sorry, Mom. Don’t cry. It’s my fault. I always make you worry.” But my fingers slipped right through her cheek. She suddenly gasped, looking up. “Thomas, do you think… do you think something actually happened to him? No, I have to check on him!” My father stood up to follow her. “Of course not. Don’t scare yourself.” Just then, in the hallway, Kyle quietly slipped over to the breaker box and flipped the switch back up. He hung his head, murmuring softly, “Don’t hate me, Toby. I just wanted Mom and Dad to look at me for once. I’m sorry.” I watched him, paralyzed with shock. A bitter smile crept onto my face. The power outage was a lie. It was a play orchestrated entirely by my little brother. The next second, Kyle raised his own hand and slapped himself across the face with stunning force. He stumbled backward, tears flowing instantly, and ran wailing toward our parents. “Dad! Mom! Toby beat me!” He threw himself into their arms, sobbing hysterically. “I just wanted to go in and apologize to him, but he lunged at me and hit me! He called me a worthless parasite and said I was trying to steal your love! He said… he said you are the most useless parents in the world and he wishes he were adopted! He deliberately shut off the power so I couldn’t submit my college application! He wanted to ruin my life!” Kyle pulled back his collar, showing the red mark on his cheek. “Dad, Mom, I’m so scared!” I rushed in front of my parents, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Dad! Mom! I didn’t do it! He’s lying! I’m dead, how could I have hit him?” But no one heard a thing. My mother trembled, her face twisted in rage. “To think I was actually worried about him! I spent ten years of my life sacrificing everything for him, and I raised a venomous snake!” My father rubbed his face wearily. “We spoiled Toby too much.” I stood frozen, tears streaming down my ghostly face. “I didn’t… I’m not a bad kid. I’m not a snake.” My father gently wiped Kyle’s tears away. “Don’t cry, Kyle. Dad bought cake. Let’s eat it together and ignore him.” Kyle offered a sweet, obedient nod. He cut a slice of cake for each of them. “Dad, Mom, I’m the luckiest kid in the world.” I sat on the empty chair beside them, staring longingly. It was strawberry cake, my favorite. I could almost smell the sweet vanilla frosting. But my mother gently pushed her plate away. “You eat it, Kyle. Mom can’t touch this. It has eggs in it.” She lowered her gaze. “I made a vow before God. I will live on water and simple vegetables for the rest of my life to keep your brother safe.” My throat tightened. I leaned in to wrap my arms around her, but my embrace was nothing but air. The new silver threads in her hair cut through my soul like a knife. My father sighed, picking up a slice of cake and walking over to my door. He knocked, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Toby, stop this nonsense. Just apologize to your brother, and we’ll forget all about it. Come out and eat something, okay?” But dead boys don’t talk. He waited, then set the plate on the floor. The fire of resentment flared in my mother’s eyes again. She shoved a large forkful of cake into her mouth, chewing aggressively. “If he doesn’t want to eat, let him starve! We aren’t going to pamper him forever. I have more than one son.” I bit my lip. Yes, at least they still had Kyle. They wouldn’t be too lonely when they found out. Suddenly, the phone rang. My mother wiped her mouth and answered with a bright smile. “Hello, Mrs. Gable? Yes, Kyle’s application went through perfectly. Don’t worry.” The counselor on the other end pressed on. “That’s wonderful. And what about Toby? Did he choose Harvard or MIT as his first choice?” The moment she heard my name, the warmth drained from my mother’s face. She did not even care to hear the rest of the sentence. “Toby? He’ll be lucky if he gets into a community college. It doesn’t matter what he chooses.” Without waiting for a reply, she hung up. I stood frozen, my soul splintering into a million pieces. “Mom, I got the highest score in the state. I didn’t embarrass you. Why didn’t you even bother to ask? Do you really hate me that much…” My father shook his head in disappointment. “I never cared about his grades. I only wanted him to be healthy, for us to be a happy family. I don’t understand how he became so bitter.” The injustice of it all felt like a rusty blade twisting slowly in my chest. The dining room fell into a suffocating silence. But before going to bed, they still left a small plate of food outside my door. A pity I would never taste it. The next morning, my mother came to check on me early. She saw the plate of food and the slice of cake sitting untouched. The frosting had melted, and the strawberry was shriveled and dark. Her face fell, her anger returning with a vengeance. She pounded on the door. “Toby! Get out here right now!” Silence. Her eyes brimmed with angry tears. “What do you want from me? You won’t eat, you won’t talk, are you trying to starve yourself to punish me? Do I need to get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?” My father rushed over, pulling her back. “Toby, enough is enough! Open this door and talk to us! Your mother’s health is fragile, stop tormenting her!” Just then, the doorbell rang. My mother wiped her face quickly and went to open it. On our doorstep stood a news crew carrying heavy cameras. “Hello, we are from the State Broadcast Network. We’re here to interview your son.” My mother’s eyes lit up, her anger evaporating in an instant. “Kyle! Come out here! The TV station is here to interview you!” Kyle ran out of his room, his chest puffed out with pride. But the reporters exchanged puzzled glances. The lead journalist smiled politely. “Is Toby not home? He scored the highest in the entire state on the national placement exams. We’re here for him.” Kyle’s smile froze. My father gasped, an uncontrollable wave of joy washing over his face. “I knew it! I knew my boy had it in him!” My mother quickly ushered them inside, her hands trembling with excitement. “That silly boy, why didn’t he tell me? Please, come in! He’s in his room. I’ll go get him.” I began to shake with terror. I threw my spectral arms wide, trying to block her path. “Mom, no! Make them leave! Dad, stop her! Don’t let her see me like this, please!” But they could not hear me. The reporters followed closely, their cameras rolling, transmitting the live broadcast directly to thousands of screens across the state. The heavy bookshelf wedged behind my door had already been loosened by my mother’s violent kicks. With one firm push, the entire unit gave way and crashed to the floor inside. My mother stepped into the threshold. “Toby, Mom is coming in! The news crew is here, it’s a live broadcast! Everyone is watching, hurry up and get—” The words died in her throat. Through the camera lens, my pale, lifeless body lay slumped on the floor, surrounded by a massive pool of dark, congealed blood. The reporters froze, but the camera remained fixed on my face. My mother’s face drained of all color. She let out a piercing, soul-shattering shriek. “Toby! Toby!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616421”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In my previous life, the school’s notorious bad boy made a bet that he could conquer the untouchable ice-queen of our high school within a month. He asked me to pass a love letter to her, my childhood best friend. Back then, I had her bright future in mind. I hid the letter, and as a result, they missed out on each other for five whole years. By the time she returned from studying abroad, the bad boy was already married to someone else. She firmly believed my jealousy had ruined her epic romance and torn them apart. She used her newfound power to destroy my family, and I was tortured to death in the freezing snow, my eyes wide open in unmerited agony. In this life, facing the bad boy’s request once again, I simply made a hundred photocopies of his love letter and stuffed every single one into her locker. Then, I happily took the elite overseas scholarship for myself. Fine by me. You get your epic, world-shattering romance, and I get the bright, limitless future! 1 Staring at the obnoxious pink envelope Jaxon handed me, a dizzying wave of realization washed over my mind. I had been reborn. The familiar scent of chalk in the classroom, the mundane chatter of teenagers, and the face of the guy standing right in front of me. It all felt like a waking nightmare looping endlessly in my head. I died in the dead of a bitter, unforgiving winter. A group of thugs had laughed like hyenas while stomping my bloodied body into the frozen pavement. My white shirt was stained beyond recognition. Someone had mercilessly dumped a bucket of freezing saltwater over my battered body. The salt seeped into my open wounds, bringing a violent, burning agony that shot through every nerve like high-voltage electricity. The bone-deep pain literally suffocated me. I lay on the ground, groaning in pure torment as crimson blood slowly trickled from the corner of my mouth. That was the exact moment the girl I had always placed on a pedestal walked toward me, her chin raised in absolute arrogance. Her eyes were clouded with a toxic, concentrated hatred, looking at me as if I had slaughtered her entire bloodline. “Arthur, you make me sick! You tore Jaxon and me apart just to satisfy your own twisted, selfish desires. If it weren’t for you, we would have been together years ago!” “Didn’t you claim to love me? How does it feel to be destroyed by the very person you supposedly loved?” “Do you think your death will earn my forgiveness? No! I will never forgive you!” After venting her twisted fury, Lily turned on her designer heels and walked away without a single backward glance. Watching her retreating figure, my heart had shattered into unrecognizable pieces. I never imagined that a girl so fiercely proud could push me into the abyss all for a piece of trash like Jaxon. Even worse, she genuinely believed I was the villain who ruined her life. Lily and I grew up on the same suburban street. We were childhood friends who constantly competed yet pushed each other to be better. Over time, a quiet, tender affection had bloomed in my chest. In high school, Lily was gorgeous, top of her class, and had an endless line of suitors. I was right there with her, always scoring just a fraction of a point lower, forever trapped in second place. Then Jaxon transferred in. He was the school’s rebellious heartthrob, the guy every girl whispered about, while Lily was the untouchable, brilliant ice-queen. One was wild and charismatic, the other cold and beautiful. To everyone else, they were a match made in heaven. That was when Jaxon asked me to pass a love letter to her. Even though I had feelings for Lily, I never actually wanted to sabotage her happiness. But I had personally overheard Jaxon bragging in the locker room, laughing about how he just wanted to mess around with her and see what it felt like to corrupt the perfect straight-A student. Plus, Lily was on the verge of accepting a prestigious scholarship to study in Europe. To protect her, I chose to hide Jaxon’s letter. I never expected them to miss each other for five years. When she finally returned, Jaxon was already married. Lily decided my possessive jealousy was the culprit. Utilizing the wealth and connections she built overseas, she hired people to humiliate and beat me, watching coldly as I froze to death. Even my parents, the kind neighbors who had watched her grow up and invited her over for the holidays, were killed in a staged car accident orchestrated by her. Thinking of all this, the blood in my veins ran ice cold. Since they were so madly in love, why shouldn’t I play the perfect wingman? I carefully took the letter from Jaxon. Just to be absolutely certain it wouldn’t get lost, I went to the library, printed a hundred copies, and crammed every single one into Lily’s locker. This time, there was no way they could miss each other. Let’s see if their true love could actually survive reality. After doing my good deed for the day, I sat down and furiously powered through two advanced placement mock exams. The affection I held for Lily in my past life wasn’t even pure love. It was just the natural admiration you feel for someone brilliant, mixed with a healthy dose of teenage rivalry. Yet my innocent crush became her definitive proof of my “toxic jealousy” and ultimately signed my death warrant. Now, I was totally done with that fruitless, one-sided infatuation. I was going to focus entirely on myself. I would never let blind emotion dictate my choices again, nor would I ever beg for someone’s affection. I finally understood a universal truth. You only get to dictate your own life when you are strong enough to stand alone. 2 It didn’t take long for the entire school to buzz with the news of Jaxon and Lily’s insanely romantic rooftop confession. This time, they were officially a couple. Watching Lily lean into Jaxon’s chest, giggling softly and acting completely unlike the fiercely ambitious girl I knew, felt surreal. It made me think of the pathetic version of myself from the past. The guy who practically handed her his beating heart on a silver platter. The idiot who would run across town at midnight just because she texted, “I’m craving ice cream.” The fool who buried his favorite jacket at the bottom of the closet just because she once casually mentioned the color was ugly. But all that pathetic behavior evaporated the second I opened my eyes to this second chance. I gave the happy couple one brief, indifferent glance before diving back into my textbooks. Over the next few months, the gossip mill never stopped churning. Lily started skipping classes for Jaxon. She threw him lavish surprise parties, got into screaming matches with other girls over him, and even followed him to sketchy underground clubs to get matching tattoos. Her signature composed, icy demeanor was entirely gone, replaced by a frantic, uncontrollable euphoria. She was drowning in teenage rebellion, entirely forgetting the promises she made to herself about conquering the academic world. Natural talent only gets you so far. The consequences of blowing off school eventually caught up with her. Her grades plummeted, and she shockingly dropped out of the top fifty in our grade. Jaxon knew I used to have a crush on her. He purposely walked up to my desk, draping an arm around Lily, and smirked. “You two used to hang out all the time. Never felt a spark for the boy next door?” Lily scoffed, rolling her eyes in disgust. “Arthur? He’s so rigid and boring. Who would ever like him?” Jaxon laughed out loud, grabbing her waist and pulling her into a messy, aggressive kiss right in front of the whole class. The other students gasped, their faces turning red as they awkwardly looked away. I didn’t even blink at the two clowns performing their little circus act. I just flipped the page of my calculus workbook. My relentless grind paid off immensely. In the final statewide mock exams, I absolutely shattered my previous plateau. I successfully turned the tables and claimed the undisputed number one spot. Even better, the school counselor called me in and told me that the coveted full-ride scholarship for a joint program in London was going to be awarded to me. He patted my shoulder, telling me to keep up the stellar work and make the school proud. In my past life, that golden ticket belonged to Lily. Now, the gears of fate had shifted, and the reward for unwavering dedication belonged to me. With the overseas offer secured, I didn’t even need to take the final SATs, but I didn’t slack off. Instead, I studied harder than ever, devouring college-level material and expanding my horizons. As for Lily, she was rapidly fading into the background of my life. 3 I didn’t hear Lily’s name again until I went to drop off some paperwork at the counselor’s office. Fierce arguments and heavy sighs echoed from behind the partially open door. “Lily, what is going on with you? Ever since you started dating, your grades have completely tanked. If you keep this up, forget about the Ivy League, you’ll be lucky to get into a local community college!” Her parents were sitting on the couch, looking utterly defeated. “Honey, you’re still young. Your main focus right now needs to be your education.” The counselor tried a softer approach. “Lily, you’re standing at a major crossroads. One wrong turn right now can derail your entire future, do you understand? We’re adults, we’ve seen this happen. If you really want to date, you can do it in college.” Lily lifted her chin, her eyes blazing with stubborn defiance. “You all keep saying it’s for my own good, but you just want to control me! You want to mold me into your perfect little trophy to satisfy your own egos! Jaxon showed me what actually matters in life. I’m happy right now. Is it a crime to want to live my own life? You guys just don’t get it!” Her parents were left speechless, their faces twisting in genuine agony. “Sweetheart, how could you say that? We’ve poured everything we have into you for years. Not for our egos, but so you wouldn’t have to struggle later in life.” Lily crossed her arms and sneered. “Stop acting like saints. I know the truth. You talk a big game, but you’re just terrified I’ll embarrass you! Jaxon isn’t the deadbeat you all think he is. He has his own dreams, and he treats me like a queen. I would give up everything for him!” Without waiting for a response, Lily spun on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door. She froze for a split second when she saw me standing in the hallway, but then she aggressively looked away and brushed past me. Standing there, processing the absolute circus I had just witnessed, a wave of complicated emotions hit me. So this was how Lily had viewed things all along. Right then, I felt a deep pang of pity for her parents. They had poured every ounce of love and every dime they had into her, never denying her anything. Yet their unconditional devotion was twisted into “toxic control” in her eyes. I let out a breath, walked into the office, and handed the papers to the counselor. “Sir, here are the forms you needed.” He took them, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. “Great, just leave them on the desk.” I put them down and turned to leave. “Hold on, Arthur!” he called out. I stopped and looked back. The counselor hesitated for a moment before speaking softly. “Whatever you just heard in here, keep it to yourself, alright?” I nodded calmly. “Understood.” Stepping out of the building, the crisp air filled my lungs. Lily’s path and mine had officially split into two parallel lines that would never intersect again. She could walk her tightrope, and I would walk my solid bridge. We were destined to become strangers. I buried myself in my work, shutting out the noise of the world. Finally, the day of my departure arrived. Friends and family threw a lively farewell dinner. Lily’s parents came to see me off too, though their smiles were incredibly strained. “Congratulations, Arthur. Make sure you keep in touch when you’re in Europe. If only our Lily could have been more like you…” The sudden blare of the airport boarding announcement drowned out the rest of their sentence. I politely said my goodbyes and hurried toward the gate. I felt bad for how much they were suffering, but it simply wasn’t my problem anymore. The moment the plane’s wheels left the tarmac, I knew my life was about to transform in ways I couldn’t even imagine. Living abroad, I pushed myself to the absolute limit. I practically lived in the university library. The grind paid off, and I graduated with a prestigious dual degree, top of my cohort. My old high school friends had also gotten into solid universities back in the States, and we kept in touch through group chats. Every now and then, a piece of news about Lily would filter through. Because of her obsessive romance, she bombed her SATs and barely scraped into a no-name state college. Her parents were heartbroken and tried every desperate tactic to break them up. Naturally, this only fueled Lily’s rebellious fire. She packed her bags and ran away from home to move in with Jaxon. One of the girls from our old class quietly mentioned in the chat that she had spotted Lily at a free women’s clinic. She said Lily looked sickly, exhausted, and had lost a frightening amount of weight. I read the message and felt absolutely nothing. A hopeless romantic like Lily, as long as she stayed tethered to Jaxon, would always worship at the altar of love while letting her actual life burn to the ground. 4 The next time I saw Lily in person was at our five-year high school reunion back in the States. Everyone had changed so much, eagerly swapping stories about frat parties, college finals, and corporate grind. “Arthur, man, I read your latest paper in that journal! Absolute genius!” “Isn’t your mentor some legendary professor? I saw a picture of you two in an article. Makes us all look good having a celebrity in the group!” “I literally brag to my coworkers that I went to school with you. You’re like a mythical creature to them.” I sat at the table, offering polite and humble replies, enjoying the warm atmosphere. Everything was perfect until someone nervously piped up and asked the golden question. “Hey, Lily. Are you and Jaxon still together?” The loud chatter in the room instantly died. Every single pair of eyes darted toward the girl sitting quietly in the corner. Lily looked nothing like the radiant prom queen she used to be. She was wearing heavy, expensive-looking makeup, but it couldn’t hide the deep exhaustion etched into her features. There was a rough, cynical edge to her that hadn’t been there before. She forced a tight smile, her tone unnervingly flat. “Oh, we broke up a while ago.” A collective murmur of shock rippled through the room. The legendary rebel and the ice-queen, the couple that practically demanded the spotlight, had crashed and burned. Back in the day, their contrasting dynamic was thrilling. But once they were stripped of the high school bubble and the halo of good grades, reality hit hard. There was nothing charming about their differences anymore. After ruining her college prospects, Lily had followed Jaxon to a mediocre city. Desperate to reclaim her lost glory, she tried to completely isolate herself and focus on studying to prove everyone wrong. By doing so, she ended up ignoring her beloved bad boy. Jaxon might have stopped getting into fistfights, but a leopard doesn’t change its spots. His wandering eye and charismatic smile drew a lot of attention in the real world. His most persistent admirer turned out to be a wealthy older woman, a literal sugar mama who was beautiful and thrilled to throw cash at him. Jaxon got hooked on the easy money and luxury cars. He grew increasingly irritated with Lily, who had lost her sparkling charm and was always stressed about exams. Eventually, he dumped her and moved into the rich woman’s penthouse. The betrayal broke Lily. She spiraled into a deep depression for months. Eventually, she clawed her way back to reality and tried to finish her degree. But her desperate, frantic need for instant success led to burnout. She graduated with mediocre grades and ended up in a mind-numbing, entry-level corporate job. Jaxon, just like in my past life, ended up marrying a well-off woman, and rumor had it they were living a comfortable, happy life. After briefly gossiping about the drama, the classmates smoothly changed the subject, losing interest. In my previous life, Lily had gone to Europe, networked with the elite, and returned as a high-powered investment banker with a massive net worth. People at the reunion had practically tripped over themselves trying to compliment her and kiss her feet. But now? She was just another exhausted office drone. No one wanted to waste their breath on her. Watching the scene unfold, a heavy sigh escaped my lips. The visceral memory of what Lily had done to me for Jaxon’s sake still echoed in the back of my mind. Yet it was wild to realize that one tiny decision of mine to deliver those letters had fundamentally rewritten her entire existence. But honestly? Who cares. I had my own brilliant life and a future to build. I didn’t have to live in her shadow anymore, nor did I have to look over my shoulder constantly, fearing she would murder me. I was untouchable now. To me, Lily Mercer was nothing more than an insignificant speck of dust in the grand scheme of my life. 5 I genuinely thought that after the reunion, my path would be entirely wiped clean of Lily. Our parents were technically still neighbors, but Lily hadn’t returned home since the day she ran away. Her parents had spent years crying behind closed doors, gradually pulling away from the neighborhood social scene. Then, one evening, while I was casually reviewing an academic journal on my couch, my phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. When I answered, Lily’s heavily slurred voice leaked through the speaker. “Hey, is this Arthur? It’s Lily. Can you… can you come pick me up? My head is killing me.” “Sorry, I’m busy. I can call your parents for you,” I replied coldly. “No!” she shrieked, the sudden volume piercing my ear. “They don’t want me anymore. Please, Arthur, I’m begging you. Just for old time’s sake, we grew up together.” I massaged my temples, feeling a headache coming on. My instinct was to hang up, but I figured it would be better to drive over and permanently shut this down face-to-face to avoid future harassment. So, I grabbed my keys. I found her slouched outside a dingy dive bar downtown. Apparently, her corporate firm had just done a massive round of layoffs, and she had been given the axe. Looking at her now, there was zero trace of the arrogant girl I used to know. Her mascara was smeared down her cheeks, and she reeked of cheap tequila and stale smoke. When she saw me, her eyes immediately welled up. She weakly raised a half-empty glass she had smuggled out and let out a pathetic laugh. “Arthur. If I hadn’t dated Jaxon, do you think… do you think things would have been different?” Her eyes were swimming with raw regret and desperation, like a lost child asking for a lifeline. I didn’t offer her an ounce of comfort. I just stood under the flickering neon sign, staring at her with eyes as cold as ice. Seeing my blank reaction, she just kept rambling. “I regret it. God, I regret it so much. If only I hadn’t let some stupid teenage romance ruin my brain. I didn’t know I would end up like this! Why didn’t the counselor or my parents try harder to stop me? Maybe if they had just dragged me out of there, I wouldn’t be sitting in this gutter.” “You know what? I’m so incredibly jealous of you. You have everything, Arthur. And I… I literally have nothing left.” Tears streamed down her messy face, her voice cracking with genuine sorrow. Yet, looking at the sobbing mess in front of me, my heart was a stone. Not a single drop of pity materialized. I stopped myself from turning away, taking one step closer. “You’re right,” I said, a cruel smirk touching my lips. “Your life is a tragedy. But you absolutely deserve every second of it.” Lily froze, the glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the concrete. She stared at me, utterly blindsided. “W-What did you say?” I leaned in, pronouncing every word with crystal clarity. “I said you deserve it, Lily. Even sitting in the dirt, you’re still pointing fingers. Everyone tried to save you. They practically begged you to stop, but you plugged your ears and screamed at them. And now you have the nerve to blame them for not trying hard enough? You are an insanely selfish person. You aren’t crying over the great romance you lost. You’re crying because you threw away the money, the status, and the vanity you think you were owed. That’s why you’re a failure.” “How… how dare you speak to me like that!” Lily’s whole body shook with rage. She pointed a trembling finger at my chest. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?! If you had just taken Jaxon’s love letter and thrown it away back then, none of this would have happened!” I looked at her delusion, a wave of profound disgust washing over me. “Get a grip on reality, Lily. If I had destroyed that letter, you would have just spent the rest of your life resenting me for sabotaging your epic, star-crossed destiny.” I looked down at her one last time, my eyes filled with nothing but contempt. “You and Jaxon. Honestly? You two were made for each other.” Without another word, I turned my back on her and walked away into the night, officially cutting the dead weight from my life.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616420”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 After eye surgery, I saw emotional auras. True care glowed warm orange—like the neighbor’s reunion or the old woman’s chestnuts. But my wife Stacey’s aura stayed a dull, suffocating gray. By my hospital bed, feeding me soup. On our anniversary, clasping my necklace. Even at night, tangled together, her gray never wavered. I told myself her love was just deeply buried. Until Finn’s welcome banquet. Lights died. Finn gasped, terrified of the dark. Stacey lunged, slamming me to the floor. From the ground, I watched her pull him into a fierce embrace. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you.” In the blackness, a blinding orange erupted from her—so bright it scalded. “Finn, are you hurt?” Lights flickered back. Everyone saw Stacey shielding Finn. I slumped against a table two meters away, elbow bleeding, knees throbbing on marble. She finally glanced at me, still glowing that violent orange. In seven years, it was the first time I’d seen that color on her. It burned my eyes. But it was never for me. … Finn gently stepped out of her embrace and smoothed his hair. “I’m fine, Stacey.” He looked over at me, his tone entirely too casual. “You should check on Neil. It looks like he took a pretty hard fall.” Stacey stood up and walked toward me. I gripped the edge of the table and slowly pulled myself up. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cause a scene, nor did I demand to know why she had shoved her own husband aside. I simply looked at the fading orange glow around her, turned my back, and walked toward the exit. “Neil.” Stacey caught up to me at the hotel entrance, grabbing my wrist. She frowned at the blood dripping from my elbow. “The blackout happened too fast. You know Finn is terrified of the dark.” Her voice was steady, carrying a tone of absolute justification. She didn’t bother explaining who she cared about more. She just used the phrase “you know” to force me back into the role of the understanding, compliant husband. I stared at her aura. It had completely returned to that lifeless gray. “So when you shoved me out of the way, did you know it was me?” Stacey froze for a fraction of a second. “It was chaos. I couldn’t see anything.” She let go of my wrist and reached into her purse for her car keys. “Neil, the three of us have known each other for years. Don’t make this ugly over a stupid accident.” I didn’t say a word. I just got into the passenger seat. She insisted on driving me to a nearby urgent care clinic. When the ER doctor scrubbed my open wound with iodine, a piercing sting shot through my nerves. Stacey was standing right next to me when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and answered immediately. “Stacey, I think I dropped my car keys in the banquet hall. Could you come back and help me look?” Finn’s voice filtered through the speaker. It wasn’t loud, but it was just clear enough for me to hear every word. Stacey looked down at me. My elbow was still bleeding. The doctor hadn’t even applied the bandages yet. “Let the doctor finish up,” she said, tossing her credit card onto the metal counter. “I will be right back.” The clinic door swung open and clicked shut. I watched her silhouette disappear into the night. I didn’t ask her to stay. Half an hour later, my arm was fully bandaged. The clinic door swung open again. But it wasn’t Stacey. Finn walked in, holding a steaming cup of coffee and a pharmacy bag. He stopped right in front of me. “Don’t be mad at Stacey, Neil. She just panicked.” He offered me the coffee, his expression perfectly open and guiltless. “You know how it is. I got trapped in an elevator as a kid. The dark really messes with my head.” I didn’t take the cup. “She definitely panicked,” I replied flatly. Finn smiled and took a seat next to me. “We’ve all been in each other’s lives for so long. Don’t let my coming back create a wedge between you two.” He wasn’t fighting me. He wasn’t overtly stealing her. He just effortlessly inserted himself into the concept of “the three of us” as if it were his birthright. It was past midnight when Stacey finally came home after dropping Finn off. I had already showered and was sitting quietly on the living room sofa. She tossed a small pharmacy bag onto the coffee table. “I got you some scar cream. Stop giving me the cold shoulder.” She slipped off her coat, sounding deeply exhausted. “Finn just got back to the States. The welcome party turned into a disaster. He feels terrible about it.” I looked at the suffocating, ashen gray radiating from her body. “Stacey,” I said softly. “If Finn had been the one bleeding on the floor tonight, would you have told him to stop making things ugly?” Stacey’s brow furrowed in instant annoyance. “But that didn’t happen, did it?” She turned and walked toward the master bathroom. “Go to sleep, Neil. Stop overthinking.” The sound of the shower running echoed through the quiet apartment. I picked up my phone and opened an email I had received two weeks ago. The subject line read: [London Restoration Center Fellowship Offer Confirmed]. My thumb hovered over the screen. Without a single second of hesitation, I tapped accept. The next morning, I walked into the dining room. Stacey was already up and had prepared breakfast. She slid a bowl of sweet pumpkin oatmeal across the table. “You lost blood last night. Eat something warm.” She pulled out a chair and sat down, her tone surprisingly gentle. I stared at the steaming bowl of sweet oatmeal. I didn’t touch my spoon. I hate pumpkin. Even the smell of it makes my stomach turn. The person who is obsessed with sweet pumpkin oatmeal is Finn. I have always preferred a savory breakfast sandwich. Three years of marriage, and she couldn’t even remember my most basic preferences. “Why aren’t you eating?” she asked. “It’s too hot.” I pushed the bowl away. Her phone buzzed on the table. Finn had just sent a message to our group chat. “Thanks again for last night, Stacey. How is Neil’s arm? Do you want me to drop off some antibiotics?” I glanced at the screen. It was our trio group chat, dead and silent for three years. The name was still a stupid joke from college: “The Golden Trio.” Stacey picked up her phone, typing back immediately. “No need. You’re still jetlagged. Get some sleep.” I watched her fingers move across the screen. My bandages hadn’t even been changed today, yet her first priority was Finn’s jetlag. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” Stacey said, putting her phone face down. “Finn doesn’t know his way around the city anymore. We can eat together, make up for the dinner we missed last night.” I looked up at her. “Do you know what today is?” Today was my birthday. Stacey paused. Not a single ripple of emotion crossed her face. “We can celebrate your birthday another day.” She took a sip of her black coffee. “A welcome home dinner only happens once.” I stared quietly at the dead gray light surrounding her. She was like a freezing stone I could never warm up. “Okay,” I nodded, standing up from the table. That afternoon, on my way to the restaurant, I opened that pinned group chat. I changed the group name to: “Stacey and Her Friend.” The chat went dead silent for a few seconds. Finn replied first with a smiling emoji. “Wow, Neil. That sounds so formal. We used to be a lot closer than that.” A private message from Stacey popped up immediately after. “Why did you change the group name?” “Finn just got back. Why are you purposely trying to make him uncomfortable?” I typed a single reply. “I’m just making the relationship titles accurate.” She didn’t text back. Dinner was at an upscale French restaurant. Finn, wearing a loud designer shirt, sat right next to Stacey. The waiter handed out the wine menus. Finn smiled and looked across the table at me. “Stacey used to outdrink all of us in college. Do you keep her on a tight leash, Neil?” I picked up my water glass and took a sip. “She has a weak stomach. She can’t do hard liquor.” Finn raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?” He turned his head to look at Stacey. “Back in the day, she would take shots with me until three in the morning and still make it to her morning lectures.” Stacey didn’t correct him. She gracefully sliced her steak, a very faint, nostalgic smile touching the corners of her lips. “That was when we were young and stupid.” The exact moment those words left her mouth, a soft, warm orange glow bloomed around her. It was faint, but it was undeniably real. Looking at that light, the very last shred of struggle in my heart completely flatlined. Halfway through the meal, I stood up. “I have some restoration files to organize. I’m heading out early.” Stacey frowned. “Finish your food. I will drive you home.” “No need.” I grabbed my jacket and walked out of the restaurant without looking back. As I reached the parking lot, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. “Neil.” Finn leaned against the hood of a nearby car, his voice perfectly calm. “I know you hate that I am back.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, pinching it between his fingers. “But Stacey and I knew each other long before you came into the picture. There is a lot of history between us. You don’t just erase that overnight.” I looked at him. “And your point is?” Finn chuckled, blowing a cloud of smoke into the cool air. “My point is, if you can’t handle it, you should just bow out.” “Stop suffering in silence while making everyone else miserable.” I looked at his smug, open face and didn’t bother arguing. When I got home, I opened my laptop. I pulled up the email from the London Restoration Center and began filling out the detailed visa application. For the next few days, I stayed quiet. I gathered my passport, my certificates, and my portfolio. The floor of my study was covered with delicate restoration tools and ancient texts. When Stacey pushed the door open, I was carefully sealing a few rare books my grandfather had left me into moisture proof bags. Her eyes swept over the open suitcase on the floor. Her brow furrowed. “Are you going on a business trip?” I sealed the bag shut. “Something like that.” She walked closer, opening her mouth to ask more, but her phone suddenly rang in her pocket. She answered it, her tone instantly softening. “You looked at the venue? Okay, I will be right there.” Hanging up, she grabbed her coat draped over the back of the chair. “Finn is putting together a small photography exhibition. There is an issue with the venue.” She looked at me. “I need to go help him sort this out. We can talk about your trip when I get back.” I didn’t even look up. “Sure.” The second the front door clicked shut, I shoved the final stack of paperwork into my suitcase. She didn’t even have the time to ask where I was going. That afternoon, I went to the bank to print out six months of financial statements for my visa application. When the teller handed me the printed receipt, I stared at the numbers and completely froze. More than half of the money in our joint savings account, the money we had been saving for our trip to Iceland, was gone. The transfer memo simply read: “Deposit for Finn’s Exhibition Venue.” Two years ago, when I was recovering from my eye surgery and my vision first started coming back, I told her I wanted to see the Northern Lights. Stacey had held my hand, her voice solemn and full of promise. “As soon as your eyes are fully healed, I will take you.” We had saved that money for two years. Now, the Northern Lights had been traded for Finn’s spotlight. I folded the bank statement, slid it into my bag, and hailed a cab straight to the exhibition venue. The gallery was a mess. Construction workers were busy setting up display frames. I walked in and immediately spotted the item sitting inside the central glass display case. It was a vintage film camera. My grandfather’s camera. The last thing he ever left me. Next to it sat a sleek placard printed in elegant cursive. “The Source of Finn’s Early Inspiration.” I stood in front of the glass, the blood running cold in my veins. “Neil, what are you doing here?” Stacey walked over holding a roll of blueprints, looking completely unfazed. “Finn is just borrowing it.” She pointed at the camera. “Your grandfather kept it in pristine condition. It fits the aesthetic of the exhibition perfectly.” I turned my head to look at her. “Did you ask me?” Stacey went quiet for a second before rolling up the blueprints. “Do we really need to draw such strict lines between us?” Her tone carried a hint of irritation. She was looking at me as if I were a child throwing an unreasonable tantrum. Finn climbed down from a nearby ladder and dusted off his hands. “Neil, perfect timing.” He walked over to the glass case, his smile bright and totally shameless. “I meant to call you. Your grandfather’s camera has so much character. It’s the perfect centerpiece for my show.” I stared at him. “That belongs to me.” Finn blinked, feigning surprise, before his smile grew wider. “Of course it does. I didn’t say I was keeping it.” He looked at Stacey. “Stacey told me you wouldn’t mind, so I went ahead and used it.” Stacey stepped forward, deliberately positioning herself between Finn and me. “It’s just a camera, Neil. He will give it back when the show is over.” She lowered her voice. “This exhibition is crucial for Finn’s comeback. Do not embarrass him right now.” I looked at the suffocating, dead gray aura surrounding her. “Stacey,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “We are done. Let’s get a divorce.” Stacey’s face drained of color. Her eyes darkened with absolute disbelief. “Over a camera?” She thought I was losing my mind. “Leave Finn out of this. He just got back, and putting this show together has been stressful enough. We’ve been friends for years. Stop being so overly sensitive and ruining everything.” I didn’t argue. I reached out, slid open the unlocked glass pane, took out my grandfather’s vintage camera, and walked out of the gallery. It was raining lightly on the opening day of Finn’s exhibition. I had no intention of going, but I realized I was missing a crucial document for my visa. Two days ago, Stacey had carelessly stuffed it into her briefcase. I had no choice but to go to the gallery to find her. As I walked into the grand lobby, I saw Stacey standing by the sign in desk. She looked surprised to see me, instinctively reaching out to touch my shoulder. I stepped sideways, avoiding her touch entirely. Her hand froze in midair before she slowly pulled it back. “Since you are here, do you want to walk around with me?” She was still radiating that pale, lifeless gray. I shook my head, turning away to look for her briefcase. That was when I noticed the massive projector screen by the entrance playing a video montage. The title read: “Reunion: The Ten Years We Walked Together.” I froze in my tracks. The screen showed rolling lavender fields in Provence. Finn was running ahead, turning back to smile brightly at the camera. Stacey was walking right beside him, carrying his heavy camera bag. The warm sunlight stretched their shadows together on the grass. The next shot was on the banks of the Seine. It was dusk. The two of them were leaning against the stone railing, Finn resting his head comfortably on her shoulder to watch the sunset. Stacey whispered something, he laughed and playfully shoved her, and she smiled brightly in return. The next clip was outside a small street cafe. Finn was rubbing his hands together in the freezing cold. Stacey took off her trench coat and draped it over his shoulders. It was the coat I had bought for her birthday last year. In the bottom right corner of the video, the dates were watermarked. October 15, October 17, October 20. I remembered those days vividly. I had been bedridden with a severe fever. “The fifteenth,” I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “You told me you were on a business trip to New York.” Stacey went dead silent. “Finn was stranded in Europe alone,” she finally said. “He didn’t speak the language. I just flew out to help him.” Still gray. Always gray. The gallery lights suddenly dimmed, signaling the start of the opening ceremony. Finn stood on the small stage in a crisp white shirt, smiling effortlessly into the microphone. “Before we begin, I want to invite someone very special up here with me.” His gaze cut through the crowd and landed squarely on Stacey. “Stacey, come up here.” Stacey walked up the steps. The spotlight hit them both simultaneously. And then I saw it. The moment she stood next to Finn, the gray aura around her cracked. A warm, vibrant orange light began bleeding through the cracks, inch by inch. Just standing beside him was enough to light her up on fire. Finn turned his head to look at her before addressing the audience, his voice dripping with affection. “This exhibition wouldn’t have been possible without her.” “From picking the theme to booking the venue, from the equipment to the layout. She was there every single step of the way.” “When a massive storm derailed my shoot in Paris, she walked the streets with me in the freezing rain to find new locations.” He paused, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. “When I broke down crying at four in the morning, I made one phone call, and she was there twenty minutes later.” “Without Stacey, this reunion wouldn’t exist.” The gallery erupted in applause. The orange light around her flared even brighter. A journalist raised his hand. “Finn, care to elaborate on your relationship with Stacey? If you told us you two were married, we’d believe it!” The crowd cheered. Stacey turned slightly and lifted her microphone. “Actually, we are just…” Finn suddenly leaned in close, whispering something in her ear. I could read his lips perfectly. He was saying, “Stacey, just this once. All the media is here, I need the publicity. Neil won’t get jealous.” He looked up at her, his eyes curving into a perfect smile. Stacey stopped talking. She didn’t nod, but she didn’t finish her explanation either. Finn turned back to the crowd and offered a dashing smile. “Since you are all so curious… Stacey is definitely much more than just a friend to me!” The audience went wild. Flashbulbs went off like a strobe light. Finn turned slightly and reached out. His fingertips brushed against the back of her hand. She looked down at his hand. One second. Two seconds. She didn’t pull away. He slid his fingers through hers, interlocking them tightly. The warm orange aura surrounding her violently erupted, burning so bright and so hot it looked like it was going to consume the entire room. The applause was deafening. “They look so perfect together!” “Is this their official announcement?” I stood in the sea of people, looking up at the stage, watching their two brilliant orange auras merge perfectly into one. They really did look perfect together. My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Sir, your car to the airport has arrived.” I turned around, slipping through the cheering crowd. I found her briefcase behind the desk, pulled out my missing document, and walked away. That radiant orange light burned brighter and brighter behind me, but it had absolutely nothing to do with me anymore. When I stepped out of the gallery, the rain was coming down much harder. “Let’s go.” As the car merged onto the highway, I leaned my head against the cold window, watching the raindrops trace down the glass like tears. My phone screen lit up. A text from Stacey. “Where did you go?” I stared at it for a few seconds before locking the screen. The airport was incredibly quiet. I printed my boarding pass, checked my luggage, and walked through security. The overhead speaker chimed. “Flight to London is now boarding.” I stood up, pulling my carry on behind me, and walked down the jet bridge. Goodbye, Stacey.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616419”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At the pre-wedding party, we played a drinking game: answer with “Of course” or take a shot. Savannah’s best friend Carter cornered her. “I’ve seen you naked a few times, right?” She laughed. “Of course.” She fired back. “You secretly want to sleep with me.” Carter grinned. “Of course!” Lost in their world, they volleyed back and forth. I sat in the corner, acid burning my throat. Then Carter turned to me. “Freebie, Savannah. In the next life, you’d still choose Michael.” Everyone knew the answer. Savannah went silent. She chugged her beer. Awkward glances swept the room. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she forced a smile. “I just wanted a drink. Of course I’ll marry Michael.” Laughter resumed. Glasses clinked. I sat in the dim corner, eyes stinging. Savannah had lost, so it was Carter’s turn to ask me. He smirked, already knowing he’d won. “You’re not showing up to the wedding tomorrow, right?” My voice came out too calm. “Of course.” I won the game. But in this relationship, I had lost everything. … Carter raised an eyebrow and looked at me. “Savannah, your little husband is super competitive.” The crowd immediately started teasing. “Savannah, the groom-to-be is speaking his absolute truth right now!” “You better coax him before tomorrow!” Savannah let out a dismissive scoff. “Coax my ass. It is just a stupid game.” What a great excuse. Just a game. The two of them used this game as a smokescreen to blatantly flirt, while I, her actual fiancé, sat beside her like a ghost. Carter lifted his chin at me. “Alright, your turn. Keep it going.” “You are in love with Savannah, right?” I forced myself to sound composed, but my chest felt completely suffocated. Carter offered a casual, indifferent smile. “Of course.” “Groom-to-be, your attacks are way too weak. Let me turn up the heat.” He leaned forward. “Last month when you were on your business trip, I helped Savannah relieve some tension. You don’t mind, do you?” My breathing completely stopped for a second. My fingers began to tremble. Carter casually threw an arm over Savannah’s shoulder, a bright smile on his face. “This girl was missing you like crazy, and she had nowhere to release it. As her bro, I just did her a solid. Gotta admit, Savannah has the absolute best body I have ever seen.” He reached out, pretending to slide his hand down her waist. Savannah intercepted his wrist, pulling him playfully into her chest. “Spill it. Whose else have you seen, huh?” “Please, since when does the kid boss the dad around?” Carter’s lips curled into a smirk. He was clearly waiting for me to break down. “Groom-to-be, if you can’t say ‘Of course,’ you have to drink.” I fought with everything I had to control my shaking voice. “Of course.” The playful wrestling between the two of them instantly stopped. Last month, I was out of the country for a massive project. I worked day and night, destroying my sleep schedule just to build a solid foundation for Savannah and my future. I never could have imagined that while I was working my life away across the ocean, she and her guy best friend were taking a sledgehammer to that exact future. I stared dead at Carter, pronouncing every word with crystal clarity. “You are just a homewrecker hiding behind the title of ‘best bro’, right?” The laughter and music in the private room abruptly died. Carter’s smug expression froze. He opened his mouth. Before the word could even leave his lips, Savannah clamped her hand over his mouth. She slammed her beer bottle onto the table and glared at me, her brows pulled into a tight knot. “Are you out of your damn mind?” “It is just a game! Why are you taking this so seriously?” The rest of the room immediately chimed in to back her up. “Yeah, man, don’t be so dramatic. They are strictly platonic. It is not as dirty as you are making it out to be.” I looked at them in absolute disbelief. “Taking it seriously?” “He brags about helping her relieve her needs, and when I call him a homewrecker, suddenly I am the one taking it too seriously?” Savannah’s tone dripped with suppressed irritation. “What homewrecker? He is my best friend. If anything were to actually happen between us, do you honestly think it would even be your turn?” Best friend. Always the best friend. The boiling resentment I had buried for months finally erupted. “I would rather it never be my turn!” “And just a minute ago, you would rather down an entire bottle of beer than give a fake ‘Of course’ to appease me. Are you not the one taking this seriously?” She pulled at her collar, looking incredibly annoyed. “I already told you I just wanted a drink.” “Besides, look at you acting like a hysterical mess right now. Who would ever want to choose you in the next life?” It felt like a gaping hole had been blasted through my chest, letting the freezing winter wind howl straight into my lungs. I swallowed hard and spoke. “He didn’t answer. He has to drink.” Carter shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Fair is fair. I will drink. But groom-to-be, once I finish this glass, you can’t hold a grudge against me anymore.” Savannah snatched the heavy glass right out of his hand. “You know you have a bad stomach. I will drink it.” She tipped her head back and drained the liquor in one gulp. She turned to look at me, her eyes hardened. “Michael, since you want to play, I will play to the very end for him.” “Listen closely. No matter what you ask me, I will say ‘Of course.’” Seven years. I knew this woman far too well. The tight clench of her jaw told me everything. She was waiting for me to do what I always did. Back down, apologize, and hand her a graceful way out. Ever since Carter entered the picture a year ago, everything between us had shattered. But because of the massive sunk cost of our seven year relationship, I kept retreating. Step by step. This time, I refused to take a single step back. This final question, carrying an answer I already knew, was the very last chance I was ever going to give her. I looked straight into her eyes and spoke slowly. “You don’t love me anymore, do you?” She froze for a fraction of a second. “Of course.” Dead silence swallowed the entire room. A sharp, abrupt laugh ripped out of my throat. She would rather use those three words to win a stupid drinking game than use a single glass of alcohol to save our relationship. I fought down the suffocating ache in my throat and pulled out my phone, sending a text to a specific contact. [I have a wedding fully prepped here. Do you want to get married?] The moment I received an affirmative reply, I turned around and walked straight toward the door. The second the words had left Savannah’s mouth, she knew she had messed up. Seeing me get up to leave, panic flashed across her face. She rushed forward and grabbed my arm. “Michael, where are you going?” “To the bridal boutique. To pick up my suit.” After all, I had a very different wedding waiting for me tomorrow. Hearing this, the tight knot between Savannah’s brows instantly smoothed out. She let out a very obvious sigh of relief. “I will drive you.” She paused, assuming I had compromised yet again. “Carter is coming too.” “What does he need to go for?” Carter pouted, feigning innocence. “Savannah, look at your man, always drowning in jealousy.” “I am obviously going to pick up the bridesmaid dresses for the girls.” The second the words left his mouth, he shoved past me, pulled open the passenger door of her car, and slid right in. He looked at me standing outside the window, pretending to just realize his mistake. “Oh damn, I am so used to sitting here.” He shook his head and patted Savannah’s hand as she shifted gears. “Your husband is going to call me a homewrecker again. I can’t handle the heat.” “Never mind, never mind. I will just sit in the back.” Savannah turned to look at me, letting out an impatient click of her tongue. She was just about to lecture me when I cut her off. “No need.” I walked straight to the back door and got in. Surprised by my sudden cooperation, Savannah glanced at me through the rearview mirror. She opened her mouth, but ultimately swallowed whatever she was going to say. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but Savannah’s passenger seat no longer belonged exclusively to me. Just last week, Carter had a sudden craving for a road trip to the Grand Canyon. Savannah packed a bag and drove him without a second thought. Halfway there, he complained he was bored and didn’t want to go anymore. Savannah turned the car around and drove over a thousand miles back home just to appease him. Two days ago, during a massive torrential downpour, I waited for Savannah outside my office building for an entire hour. When I finally called her, I found out she had taken a detour to pick Carter up and completely forgot about me. Years ago, when we first bought this exact car, she hugged me tightly, spinning around in circles with her eyes full of pure adoration. “Michael, this is your exclusive throne. Nobody else is ever allowed to take it!” Yet right now, the car’s GPS navigation was using a custom voice pack recorded by Carter. The two of them were happily chatting away about inside jokes I couldn’t even begin to understand. I looked out the window at the streetlights blurring past in the dark. The very last flicker of hope in my heart quietly burned out in the confines of this cramped car. The moment we walked into the bridal boutique, Carter eagerly rushed forward, looking around in awe. “Damn, you guys have so many suit options here.” He stopped in front of a pristine tuxedo on a mannequin, letting out a dramatic gasp. “This one is gorgeous!” “Too bad your boy is strictly anti-marriage. I will never get the chance to wear something like this.” Savannah raised an eyebrow at him. “Then try it on now. Otherwise, you really will miss your chance.” Before I could even process what was happening, Savannah grabbed Carter by the shoulders and shoved him into a fitting room. A long time passed before he finally stepped out, acting coy and clutching the lapels of the suit. “Savannah, your husband’s taste is wild. This suit shows way too much chest.” “Let me see.” Savannah stepped right up to him, forcefully pulling his hands away from his chest. She openly and shamelessly dragged her eyes over his physique. “Who would have thought you were actually hiding some muscle under there?” “Shut up, you just don’t know how to wear it properly. Blaming my husband’s suit for being revealing.” With that, Savannah actually reached out, her hands running over his chest to adjust the fabric for him. Watching them act completely oblivious to my existence, a wave of profound absurdity washed over me. I had literally wasted seven years of my youth on this person. “Savannah, you accompanied me to my suit fittings three separate times. Do you seriously not remember that this is my wedding suit?” She turned around, a deep frown on her face. “Of course.” I completely froze. For a second, I couldn’t tell if she was still obnoxiously playing the ‘Of course’ game, or if she genuinely believed that forgetting her own groom’s wedding suit was perfectly normal. “You change your mind all the time. You kept swapping between different main suits. How am I supposed to remember?” “As long as you are the one wearing it tomorrow, who cares?” She rubbed her temples, looking thoroughly exhausted by my presence. “Is that right,” I said, my voice completely flat. “But he is wearing it right now.” “Carter, take it off.” I turned to look at the boutique clerk standing nearby. “This gentleman put on my custom wedding suit without permission. Please assist him in taking it off.” Savannah stared at me in shock for a moment before stepping aggressively in front of Carter to shield him. “Michael, when are you going to stop throwing these tantrums?” “Forget it, Savannah,” Carter rolled his eyes, reaching up to undo the bowtie. “Just listen to your husband. I will take it off.” Savannah slammed her hand over his to stop him. When she looked back at me, her eyes were burning with pure fury. She lowered her voice into a dangerous whisper. “Do you want to cancel the wedding tomorrow?!” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “I think you are the one who doesn’t want to get married. Or maybe you want to marry this homewrecker instead?” The air in the room instantly evaporated. The clerk stood completely paralyzed, terrified to make a single sound. The color drained from Savannah’s face, replaced by a dark, stormy rage. She forced her words out through gritted teeth. “Say that again.” My entire body was shaking. Even my voice couldn’t stop trembling. “Did I say something wrong? You two act like a couple but hide behind the word ‘besties’. During that stupid game, when he asked if you would choose me in the next life, you would rather chug a bottle of beer than say yes.” “Enough!” Savannah violently kicked a heavy wooden stool. It smashed into a floor-to-length mirror, shattering the glass into a million pieces across the floor. Her voice spiked into a hysterical scream. “When the hell are you going to stop targeting him?!” “Next life? I am sick and tired of dealing with you in this life!” I stared at Savannah, completely unable to reconcile this furious monster with the sincere, loving girl I met seven years ago. After graduation, we started a business together. We crammed ourselves into a cheap, tiny studio apartment. During the hardest days, we had to split a single cup of instant ramen for dinner. I gave her every single penny of my savings without a second thought. I even pawned the only relic my deceased father left me, a jade pendant I had worn around my neck since childhood. Back then, I genuinely believed we would be together for the rest of our lives. When Savannah finally made it big, the very first thing she did was buy back that jade pendant and place it around my neck. She looked at me and said, “Michael, one lifetime is not nearly enough with you. Next life, and the life after that, we will always be together.” She had long forgotten the promises she made. She didn’t even want to spend the rest of this life with me anymore. Hot tears finally spilled over my eyelashes and smashed onto the floor. “Since it has come to this, let’s break up.” Seeing my face covered in tears, Savannah completely froze. She opened her mouth, seemingly just realizing the weight of the words she had screamed at me moments ago. “Michael…” Savannah panicked, violently slapping herself across the face. “I went too far. I am an absolute bastard.” “We are not breaking up. We are getting married tomorrow, okay?” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around me, but her clothes were entirely drenched in Carter’s cologne. My body stiffened. I shoved her away. Savannah stood there, completely lost on how to fix the damage. She instinctively turned around, hoping to call Carter over to smooth things out, only to find the discarded tuxedo lying in a heap on the floor. Carter was gone. Before she could process anything, her phone rang. It was one of her bridesmaids. Savannah hurriedly answered it. “Savannah, what is wrong with your guy?” “Carter is at the club wearing nothing but a tank top! He is chugging hard liquor, and we can’t stop him!” When she turned back to look at me, the brief flash of guilt in her eyes had already been completely swallowed by blame. “Look at what you did, Michael.” With that, she slammed the boutique door and rushed out into the night. At that exact moment, my heart turned to solid ice. A long time passed. The clerk finally approached me, her voice soft and hesitant. “Mr. Michael, are you… still going through with the wedding?” “Given the circumstances, our store can process a full refund for you.” “I am getting married.” Remembering a certain someone’s preference, I added quietly. “Change the entire suit. I want it in a light, soft color.” The clerk looked shocked. Gathering her courage, she tried to advise me. “Sir, all of us here think… that woman doesn’t deserve you at all. Are you absolutely sure you want to marry her?” I offered her a gentle smile, genuinely appreciating her kindness. “The wedding continues. But the bride is changing.” When I pushed open the door to my apartment, the overwhelming red wedding decorations hit me like a physical blow, making my eyes sting all over again. I grabbed a duffel bag and started packing my essentials, preparing to leave this place forever. My phone screen lit up. It was a message from Savannah. [Michael, Carter drank too much and was rushed to the hospital. I will be home a bit late.] At the exact same time, a notification popped up on the iPad resting on the sofa. She had forgotten to log out of her messaging app on the tablet. It was her private bridesmaid group chat. Carter had invited me to a group chat once. After a single “Welcome, groom-to-be”, the chat had been dead for a year. It turned out they had a completely separate, active group chat behind my back. He had just uploaded a flood of intimate photos and videos with Savannah. [Hey girls, the anti-marriage guy’s wedding trial run.] He was wearing my wedding suit. Savannah was wearing a tailored tuxedo. The background was the exact banquet hall booked for tomorrow’s wedding. I tapped on a video and watched it loop over and over again. It was a viral wedding dance trend on TikTok. A lot of couples were doing it. Months ago, I had begged Savannah to film it with me, but she flat out refused, claiming it was too embarrassing. Yet in this video, Savannah was looking at Carter with absolute, undeniable adoration, performing the exaggerated dance moves with clumsy, enthusiastic effort. The group chat instantly exploded. [Michael hasn’t even walked the red carpet yet, and our boy Carter beat him to it! Hahaha! Michael is going to die of anger!] [Carter looks so good in that suit. Unlike a certain someone who looks like a total stick insect.] [You two are just the perfect match. Savannah, maybe you should just swap grooms tomorrow.] Suddenly, a knock echoed from the front door. “Mr. Michael, a flower delivery for you.” It was a massive bouquet of chamomile flowers. Every single time Savannah messed up, she would send me a bouquet to apologize. But Carter was the one who loved chamomile. I was severely allergic to it. I had told her this countless times, but she simply refused to remember. The group chat was still buzzing rapidly. [The hotel rooms are right upstairs from the banquet hall. You two aren’t going to…] Savannah finally replied. [Stop it, guys. Two separate rooms. He is drunk.] [Savannah is so devoted to her man. She can resist any temptation.] Staring at the screen, my face was entirely devoid of emotion. I just felt an agonizing pity for my last seven years. Pity for the younger version of me who had fed his youth to the dogs. In the past, I would have silently accepted the flowers, suppressing my severe allergic reactions just to accept her apology. Just as I was about to drop the entire bouquet into the trash can, my phone rang. It was Savannah. “Michael.” Her voice carried a hint of desperate pleading. “I bought you some flowers. About what happened today, I am so sorry.” She paused. When I didn’t respond, she continued. “Michael, Carter is unconscious in the hospital. I have to stay here and watch over him.” “I will come pick you up bright and early tomorrow for the hotel, okay?” It was almost laughable. Such a pathetic, amateur lie. “No need. I will get there myself.” My voice was calm and steady. The line went completely quiet. Savannah clearly hadn’t expected me to answer so decisively. She vaguely sensed that something was wrong. Her tone filled with unease. “Michael, you are still coming to the wedding, right?” I replied with a perfectly flat tone. “Of course.” Savannah, you were the one who said we were playing the ‘Of course’ game to the very end. I hung up the phone and immediately dialed the wedding planner. “Hi. I need to completely change the content displayed on the main screens tomorrow.” “And I need you to put a specific slideshow on a constant loop.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616418”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On the final day of our graduation trip, a freak heatwave struck Death Valley. I ended up with severe heat exhaustion, but my girlfriend gave our only bottle of electrolyte water to her male best friend. “You’re fit, Connor. You know wilderness first aid. Just drink some regular water and walk it off.” “But Ollie is different. He’s always had a weak constitution. If he doesn’t get these electrolytes, he could pass out.” My head was spinning so violently I could barely keep my eyes open. Arguing was out of the question, so I turned to our other teammates for help. They just rolled their eyes at me. “Bro, isn’t this jealousy thing going a bit far?” “Jane is just taking care of the sick guy. You’re a grown man. Stop acting like you’re on your deathbed.” As the group packed up to keep moving, Jane looked down at me with a deep frown. “Do you seriously have to ruin the vibe right now?” “Fine. You stay right here and think about your attitude. Whenever you realize how childish you’re being, you can catch up.” What she didn’t know was that my body had already stopped sweating. I was showing all the classic signs of a fatal heatstroke. She also didn’t know that the moment she walked away, a mechanical voice echoed in my mind. [Critical condition detected. Host’s vitals are failing. Initiate world transfer?] I peacefully closed my eyes. “I accept.” … “Connor, haven’t you thrown enough of a tantrum?” “Ollie feels so guilty about you giving him attitude that he’s too scared to even take a sip of water.” “You play basketball for hours on end. You sit by the lake fishing in the dead of summer without a single complaint. What exactly are you faking right now?” “You just had to pretend to be weak to make the whole team feel bad, didn’t you?” I had no idea how much time had passed. Jane’s impatient voice crackled through the walkie talkie attached to my backpack. Immediately after, Oliver’s guilt ridden voice chimed in. “Jane, please don’t be mad at him.” “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken that electrolyte water.” “Connor is definitely furious with me. Maybe I should walk back and give him the rest of the bottle.” Jane’s tone instantly softened. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “The blister on your heel is already popping. If you walk all the way back, it could get infected. Then what?” “He’s just taking advantage of my good temper to play the victim.” “Ignore him. Once he gets bored of this little stunt, he’ll crawl right back to us.” The other teammates started chiming in on the frequency. “Exactly, Ollie. Why do you even care?” “Connor is just spoiled by Jane. He acts like he owns her, throwing a fit over every little thing.” “We’re all getting roasted alive out here. Nobody has time for his pity party.” “A grown man sitting in the dirt playing dead for his girlfriend’s attention. It’s honestly embarrassing.” I desperately wanted to drag my body over to my backpack, grab the radio, and tell them I wasn’t faking. But my muscles were completely paralyzed. I couldn’t move an inch. The chatter on the radio continued. The mechanical voice in my head spoke again. [Transfer sequence confirmed. World jump countdown initialized. Thirty minutes remaining.] At that exact moment, a chorus of cheers erupted from the walkie talkie. “A truck! It’s a Ranger truck!” “Thank God! We don’t have to walk anymore!” A rough, unfamiliar man’s voice came through the speaker. “You guys the Apex Explorers?” “Did anyone bother checking the forecast? Ground temperature is pushing a hundred and thirty degrees today. Are you all crazy walking into the basin?” Jane’s voice was perfectly polite. “I am so sorry, Officer. We misjudged the weather.” “One of my guys injured his foot and has mild heatstroke. Could you please give him a ride back to the base camp?” I heard the sound of a clipboard flipping. “Getting him in the truck is no problem.” “But your permit lists eight people. I only see seven of you here.” “Where is your eighth member?” For a split second, I thought I was finally going to be saved. Then I heard Jane’s calm, steady voice echo through the speaker. “Oh, that member.” “He had a family emergency and had to hike out early. It’s just the seven of us now.” The rest of the team stayed totally silent, covering for her lie. The Ranger didn’t suspect a thing. “Alright. Let’s get the injured guy in the cab. We’ve got max AC and ice water in there.” “The rest of you need to stop pushing it. Follow the main trail back immediately.” Just as despair swallowed me whole, Jane’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper on the radio. “Connor, I know you can hear me.” “The Ranger truck only has two empty seats. Ollie’s foot is hurt and he needs the medic tent. Every minute we wait for you is another minute he risks infection.” “Don’t you dare press that button and embarrass us right now.” “Walk back to camp slowly. Tonight, I’ll take you to get that BBQ ribs you love.” The hundred and thirty degree heat mercilessly baked the earth. The sound of the truck engine faded into the distance. I could hear everything happening inside the cab with agonizing clarity. “Whoa, this AC is freezing.” “Jane, I’m actually a little cold.” The rustling of fabric came through the speaker. Jane’s voice was dripping with affection. “Here, put my windbreaker on. We don’t want you catching a cold.” “Take slow sips of that ice water to cool down. Don’t choke.” I was out here being roasted alive by the desert sun. Meanwhile, her male best friend was sipping ice water, completely wrapped in her tender care. The sheer betrayal sparked a final surge of adrenaline. I used every ounce of my remaining strength to drag my body toward the backpack. Oliver’s voice filtered through again. “Jane, is Connor really going to be okay out there all alone?” “The sun is brutal today, and he doesn’t even have a drop of electrolytes.” Jane let out a light laugh. She couldn’t have sounded more dismissive. “What could possibly happen to him?” “He still has half a bottle of regular water in his bag. Plus, he practically lives at the gym. His stamina is way better than yours.” “Knowing him, he’s probably hiding in the shade behind some dune, waiting for me to drive back and beg him to come with us.” “I absolutely refuse to humor his toxic behavior.” The teammates trekking behind the truck chimed in to agree. “Ollie, stop worrying about that jealous freak.” “He’s just mad that our boss treats you well. He’s trying to make everyone miserable.” “Imagine threatening to break up and faking an illness just to scare your girl. What a loser.” “Once he gets thirsty and hungry enough, he’ll come crawling back with his tail between his legs.” My trembling fingers finally brushed against the backpack. With the absolute last sliver of life I possessed, I pressed the talk button. “Help…” The chatter on the other end instantly died. Ten full seconds of agonizing silence passed. Then, Jane’s voice came through, colder than ice. “Connor, your tactics for getting attention are getting pathetic.” “This is the Apex Explorers’ public channel. It’s for emergencies, not a toy for your jealous tantrums!” Oliver whispered softly in the background. “Jane, he really sounds like he’s in pain. Maybe we should ask the Ranger to turn around?” Jane scoffed with pure disgust. “Turn around for what?” “The blister on your foot is about to burst. Every second matters before it gets infected.” “He’s a guy with a wilderness survival certificate! Does he lack basic common sense?” “Connor, listen to what you are doing!” “Ollie is hurt, and you’re out there throwing a fit over your own fragile ego!” “If you dare clog up this channel one more time, I am kicking you off this team permanently!” Before I could even breathe, a sharp beep echoed. She had manually booted my frequency from the channel. My last chance at survival evaporated into the scorching air. The mechanical voice in my head chimed in. [Countdown complete.] [Host vitals have reached zero.] [Soul detachment sequence initiated.] [Lingering emotional tether detected. Activating spectator mode.] When my consciousness returned, my soul was floating weightlessly in the air. Guided by instinct, I drifted miles away, straight to the base camp clinic. Jane was carefully helping Oliver out of the truck, supporting his weight as they walked into the medical tent. “Doctor! Please, you need to look at his foot!” The old army medic stationed at the camp adjusted his reading glasses. He grabbed an iodine swab and leaned in close. He stared at it for a long time, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. “A blister?” “The edges aren’t even red. The skin hasn’t even broken. You called in an emergency Ranger evac for a blister?” Jane stepped protectively in front of Oliver. She looked dead serious. “Doctor, he has a very weak constitution.” “Out in the desert, bacteria is everywhere. If this gets infected and leads to sepsis, it’s a massive issue.” “Please use your best antibiotics on him. I’ll cover whatever it costs.” The old medic shook his head in sheer disbelief. He tossed a standard band aid onto the table. “Just stick this on it. Keep it dry.” The medic walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He glanced out the window, his face grim. “The heat out there is wicked today. Ground temps hit a hundred and forty an hour ago.” “Are you absolutely certain nobody else from your group is still out there?” “In this kind of weather, a man left outside for two hours wouldn’t even be saved by God himself.” Jane walked over to the water cooler and poured a cup of ice water. She carefully tested the temperature against her wrist before handing it to Oliver. Her tone was incredibly firm. No hesitation at all. “No one is out there.” “The guy who left early runs marathons every month. He’s built like a tank.” “Right now, he’s probably sitting in a five star hotel back in the city, soaking in a bathtub with the AC on full blast.” The rest of the team pushed open the tent flaps just in time to hear her. They immediately joined in on the mockery. “Exactly. Connor is way too smart to actually suffer.” “He just wanted to play dead to see the boss panic.” “Too bad she didn’t fall for it. I bet he’s ordering a cold beer at the bar right now.” Oliver sat on the edge of the cot. He bit his lip, looking the picture of innocence. “I wonder if Connor kept his radio on. I’m worried he can’t reach us.” Jane patted his shoulder comfortingly. “His radio is right in his bag. Stop worrying about him.” “Once he realizes no one is playing his game, he’ll come back and apologize on his own.” She turned to the rest of the crew, falling right back into her leader persona. “Ollie went through a huge shock today. He gets the only room with air conditioning tonight.” “The rest of you, bust out the camping stoves. We’re having a feast tonight to celebrate surviving the trek.” I drifted near the ceiling of the medical tent. I watched them laughing. I watched them erase my existence completely. The sun finally dipped below the horizon. A massive bonfire crackled to life in the center of the camp. Oliver pulled out his phone and snapped a candid picture of Jane cooking over the flames. Floating above him, I clearly saw the post he uploaded to Instagram. [Some people try to prove their importance by walking away.] [What they don’t realize is that the people who truly care will worry over your smallest frown.] [Blessed to have you. Desert survival trip is a success.] Within a minute, a string of likes and comments flooded the post. It was every single member of the Apex Explorers. “You and Jane are seriously soulmates!” “That toxic jealous boyfriend doesn’t deserve a woman as amazing as her.” “Someone is probably scrolling through this from his hotel room, punching the air right now, LMAO.” Jane walked over holding a plate of grilled ribs. She checked her smartwatch, her eyebrows knitting together. “Has Connor messaged the group chat yet?” Jax didn’t even look up from his food. “Nope. Not even a single emoji.” “Just drop it, boss. He’s probably sitting at that gas station on the edge of the highway, waiting for you to cave and pick him up.” “What a drama queen. It’s been hours, you’d think he’d be hungry by now.” Jane shoved the plate of ribs into Oliver’s hands and pulled her car keys out of her pocket. “I am not letting him get away with this.” “Everyone except Ollie, get in the SUV. We’re driving out to get him.” The crew groaned, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Why are we babying him? Let him learn his lesson.” Jane let out a sharp, cold laugh. “I’m bringing you guys so he can apologize to every single one of you, face to face.” “This team isn’t his personal playground for his temper tantrums.” “He wasted all of our time today. He needs to own up to it.” Oliver immediately stood up. “I’m coming too.” “I know Connor crossed the line, but he’s still my bro. When you guys lay into him later, I need to be there to run interference.” After soaking in another wave of praise for his endless kindness, Oliver climbed into the passenger seat. I followed their SUV as it drove straight back toward my corpse. Half an hour later, the headlights swept across the exact sand dune where they had abandoned me. Inside the car, the annoyed chatter instantly died. Jax pointed a trembling finger at the windshield. “Boss… that guy…” Jane followed his gaze and saw my grotesquely twisted body lying in the dirt. Her pupils shrank. She practically fell out of the car, sprinting toward the sand. “Connor!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616417”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My seven-year-old brother wrote a bucket list. Every time he got admitted to the hospital, he added another line to it. He wanted my childhood sweetheart, Ben, and me to take him to the amusement park. He wanted us to eat ice cream together. He wanted us to build sandcastles on the beach. Every single wish revolved around me. But when I read the very last line on that list, it hit me like a ton of bricks. He wished for Ben and me to break up. I didn’t take it seriously at first. I just brushed it off as my little brother’s overprotective gene kicking in. I even thought it was cute enough to share with Ben as a joke. “Someone wants me to dump you. What do you think about that?” Ben stayed dead silent for a long moment. Then, he decided to confess everything. “Don’t listen to whatever your best friend is feeding you. Even if she goes through with the pregnancy, I am not breaking up with you to be with her.” “But you have to promise me one thing. Don’t go making a scene with Chloe. She’s pregnant and her morning sickness is brutal right now. If you go after her, I’ll pull the plug on finding that specialist for your brother.” In a split second, the bucket list hidden behind my back was crumpled tight in my trembling fist. “…Fine. I promise.” “But you have to promise me you’ll help finish my brother’s bucket list.” 1 Hearing my condition, Ben didn’t agree right away. A flash of knowing exhaustion crossed his eyes. “Are you mad? I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but this is Chloe’s first baby. I have to be extremely careful. I’ll get the doctor sorted out for your brother. But I might not have as much time to spend with you lately. I’m sorry you have to deal with this, babe.” Saying that, Ben gently wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. He had done this exact move a thousand times before. I didn’t even have to think to know what he was going to do next. He would slowly nuzzle his cheek against mine. It was our secret little way of apologizing and making things right. But this time, I flinched away. I needed to cut the cord cleanly. “How long have you two been together? Five months? Eight months? A whole year? We’ve only known her for eighteen months total. Do not sit there and tell me it was love at first sight.” My voice was incredibly soft. So quiet that even I couldn’t hear the heartbreak in it. But Ben immediately got defensive and let go of me. “Can you really not give me the absolute bare minimum of trust? It happened exactly one time, three months ago. That’s when she got pregnant. What do you want me to say? Do you want the whole play-by-play of how we hung out, how I took her clothes off, and how she got knocked up?” “Besides, if you could actually have kids, do you really think I’d let her keep it?” My eyes widened in sheer disbelief. “Why can’t I have kids? Do you honestly not know?” Fourteen years ago, Ben’s parents’ business went under. Loan sharks showed up at his house. One of them grabbed Ben by the collar, holding a switchblade to his throat, demanding money from his parents. Except they grabbed the wrong kid. They grabbed me, thinking I was their daughter. I was thirteen. I didn’t say a word because I was terrified Ben would get hurt. I took the blade to the stomach for him. And now, at twenty-seven, Ben just blurted it out like it was nothing. “You volunteered for that. I didn’t ask you to do it. You can’t just keep bringing up ancient history every time you want to win an argument.” He glared at me, his brow heavily furrowed. It felt like I was truly seeing him for the very first time. The Ben in my memory was a ten-year-old boy bravely standing in front of the school bullies, promising to protect me. He was a thirteen-year-old crying his eyes out, swearing he would take care of me forever. He was a twenty-year-old holding my hands on a snowy mountain, wishing for nothing but my happiness. He was not this stranger who betrayed me and then tried to gaslight me with “logic” just to save his own skin. My grip on the crumpled piece of paper tightened until my knuckles turned white. “You’re right. I made a huge mistake back then. I shouldn’t have played the hero and saved your life. Being infertile is just my karma.” I thought agreeing with him would end it, but his face just twisted into something uglier. “Here we go again. You’re starting up again. Look at yourself. You’re acting completely psychotic right now. What is the difference between you and a screaming banshee?” “Send me the parts of the list that involve me. I’ll show up when I can. I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with your tantrums today. Chloe has an ultrasound appointment. Figure your own mess out.” With that, Ben snatched his jacket off the couch and stormed out, leaving me completely alone in the dead quiet of the apartment. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I had saved months ago. “That pediatric specialist in Boston… is the offer to consult still on the table?” 2 The voice on the other end sounded a bit surprised. “I mean, yes. But didn’t you say you booked a top tier doctor locally and the dates clashed?” That local doctor was the one Ben had used all of his family connections to secure. It used to be his ultimate proof of how much he loved me. Now, it was just the leash he used to keep me trapped. He assumed that since my job and my life were rooted here, I didn’t have the means to drag my sick brother across the country to find a doctor. He thought I had no choice but to rely on him. I forced a bitter smile and dodged the real issue. “It didn’t work out. I’m flying him out for a consultation this week.” As for why it didn’t work out, I kept my mouth shut. I packed my suitcases and got ready to walk out of that apartment for good. But the second I opened the front door, I was face to face with Chloe. Her eyes were rimmed red with tears. She grabbed my hands with a desperate grip, drowning me in endless apologies. “I am so, so sorry. I swear I never wanted to steal your boyfriend. I just looked up to you so much. If I get on my knees right now, will you please forgive me? You are my absolute best friend. We promised to be bridesmaids at each other’s weddings!” Dangling from her wrist was the good luck charm I bought for her. I had prayed over that charm at a snowy mountain shrine. She had hugged me, crying, saying how blessed she was to have met me. And in the blink of an eye, she was holding Ben’s hand, stabbing me right in the back. Ben stepped out of the elevator, his eyes filled with agonizing pity for her. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He glared at me. “Apologize to Chloe right now. Do you have any idea how long she’s been crying because you wouldn’t answer her calls? Pregnant women cannot handle massive emotional distress! Even if you don’t care, you have a mother. You should know better!” My head snapped up in sheer shock. It took me a full minute to even find my voice. “I don’t have one anymore. My parents died in a car crash a year ago. Did you somehow forget?” Ben’s brow furrowed, instantly trying to backpedal. “Don’t twist my words, sweetie. You know I didn’t mean…” But I didn’t acknowledge him. I ripped my hands away, grabbing Chloe’s wrist and pressing down hard on the good luck charm she wore. “And did you forget too? You looked up to me? You want my life? Well, I wish you the exact same life I have. Dead parents, totally betrayed by the person you love the most. Oh, right, you don’t have a little brother. So I hope that baby in your stomach ends up exactly like my brother.” Slap! Before I even registered the burning sting on my cheek, my heart completely shattered. Ben’s palm was bright red. A flash of instant regret crossed his eyes. But Chloe shrieked, completely dropping the innocent act. “Are you out of your mind?! This is my baby! And one day it’s going to be your baby too! What the hell do you get out of cursing an unborn child?!” I kept my head down. My eyes locked onto the shiny leather shoes on Chloe’s feet. Chloe and I met in college. We were roommates. She moved here from a tiny rural town. She was terrified of her own shadow and had zero friends. So I became her lifeline. When we graduated, I paid the deposit on her apartment. When guys harassed her, I fought them off. I even bought those exact shiny shoes for her first job interview, because her parents refused to spend a dime on a girl. And now, the reflection on those polished shoes just showed me how utterly pathetic I was. Ben had money. He treated her better than he ever treated me. He would make sure she never went without. I wanted to let it all go. But my shoulders were wound so tight they were shaking. I was desperately trying to convince myself that this cold, uncaring act was just me saving face. “That is not my child. It shares zero DNA with me. And we are not a package deal. Did you forget? We aren’t even married.” “Not married?” Ben practically laughed in my face, like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Look at the state your brother is in. Can you really afford to walk away from me right now?” Ben had said something eerily similar at my parents’ funeral. He had held my shaking hands and said, “You still have me. I will be right by your side. Since they are gone, it’s my turn to take care of you. As long as you need me, I will never leave.” The vows that were supposed to protect me had morphed into the chains forcing me to swallow his betrayal. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase. Chloe lunged forward to stop me, but Ben pulled her back. “Let her go. Let her throw her little tantrum. Your only job right now is to take care of yourself. Don’t waste your energy getting mad over people who aren’t worth it.” Not worth it. That was the perfect summary of my twenty-seven years on this earth. The scar on my abdomen, silent for over a decade, suddenly flared with a blinding, throbbing pain. 3 The amusement park was my brother’s idea. Ben dragged Chloe along. Chloe was holding an action figure my brother loved, crouching in front of him, desperately trying to win him over. But my brother wasn’t excited at all. He just gripped my hand tightly and refused to let go. Ben frowned. Right as he opened his mouth to scold him, Chloe let out a bloodcurdling scream and collapsed onto the pavement. Before I could even process what happened, Ben lunged forward and violently shoved my seven-year-old brother to the ground. I dove on instinct, shielding my brother’s body. My arm scraped brutally against the rough concrete, tearing off a massive layer of skin. Chloe clutched her stomach, looking absolutely devastated. “I know you hate me! I get it! I know I wronged you! But my baby is completely innocent! Why would you teach your brother to pinch my stomach?!” Her crying was loud enough that a crowd of people at the amusement park started turning their heads, forming a circle around us. Ben’s face was completely black with rage. He screamed at the top of his lungs. “Are you insane?! Chloe was nice enough to care about your feelings! She literally begged me to come help your brother finish his stupid bucket list! And this is how you repay her?! Are you not going to be happy until you force her to have a miscarriage?!” Ben and Chloe looked like a distressed married couple. To the crowd, I was instantly labeled as the psychotic mistress. People pointed fingers, whispering viciously. A few even pulled out their phones, recording the drama for TikTok. But I tuned all of them out. I stared intensely at my brother’s unfocused eyes. I patted his pale cheek, calling his name in a panicked whisper. “Look at me! Wake up! Please, wake up!” Ben hated that I was ignoring him. He grabbed my bleeding arm, refusing to let it go. But when he saw the blood pouring down my skin, he froze for a second. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. A horrific scream tore from my throat as tears flooded my face. “He has leukemia! He has severe leukemia! How could you shove him like that?! If anything happens to him, what am I supposed to do?!” Chloe muttered under her breath. “Does she think we’re stupid? He passes out the second he gets caught doing something bad? Ben barely touched him. They’re just faking it so we don’t press charges.” Then, she acted like she realized she said that out loud. She clamped a hand over her mouth, looking terrified. And Ben actually bought it. He completely stopped believing me. This was the same man who confessed his love to me under the fireworks, swearing his devotion. He had said, “I will be your rock forever. Just give me one chance, and I will never let you down.” But right now, he stared down at me with absolute zero empathy. He even blocked a bystander from coming over to help. “Don’t encourage them. The kid is throwing a tantrum and the sister enables it. Let him bake in the sun for a few minutes. When he gets uncomfortable enough, he’ll magically wake up.” My hands were shaking violently as I dialed 911. Right on cue, Chloe clutched her stomach and started wailing in pain. Her eyes brimmed with fresh tears. “It’s from the fall! I swear I feel something leaking down there! Ben, I’m so scared!” Panic completely took over Ben’s face. He scooped Chloe up in his arms and sprinted straight into the back of the ambulance the second it arrived. He totally forgot I was still kneeling on the pavement holding my unconscious brother. The paramedic looked torn, but the bystanders immediately started chiming in. “Just go! The kid is faking it to avoid getting grounded. That pregnant lady just took a nasty fall. You need to get her to the ER!” “The sister spoils him rotten. They’re just wasting emergency resources. That kid is going to grow up to be a total menace.” I begged them to stop, but my voice was completely drowned out by the angry mob. The ambulance doors slammed shut, leaving my brother and me entirely alone in the dust. Thankfully, a girl passing by couldn’t stand watching it anymore. She practically threw us into the back of her car and sped all the way to the ER. My brother was barely saved in time. The on-call doctor took one look at his chart and immediately ordered him into the trauma bay. “Leukemia patients have zero immune system and cannot sustain trauma! Do you not know this as his guardian?! His baseline was already critically low!” Staring at the glowing red ‘IN SURGERY’ sign above the doors, I finally broke down, sobbing quietly into my hands. A year ago, my parents were wheeled through those exact same doors. And they never came out. Ben always called me dramatic and immature. But what exactly did I do wrong? My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Chloe. It was a picture of Ben, asleep with his head resting near her hospital bed. “You were right. I don’t need to want your life. I’ve already taken your man. Do you want to know exactly when we got together? The night your parents died in that car crash.” I stared at the glowing screen. I stopped crying. I stopped breathing. Chloe’s messages kept rolling in. “Ben told me you’d lock yourself in your bedroom. He said you’d refuse to talk to anyone or see anyone. He said it was the absolute safest time.” “And he was right. The next morning, you saw the stains on his bedsheets. He made up some excuse about not having time to do laundry. And you were so blinded by grief you just assumed it was from you guys messing around before.” Twenty-seven years together. Ben truly knew me inside and out. Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Ben appeared, panting heavily. “The doctor just called me. What the hell did you guys do after we left? Why is he in emergency surgery?!” I looked up from my phone, staring at him. He looked exactly like he did the night he rushed to the hospital after my parents crashed. He looked so panicked. And the second his eyes landed on my tear-stained face, that familiar, long-lost heartbreak washed over him again. “We were just finishing his bucket list.” My voice was hollow. It was lighter than air. And we would have finished it. If Chloe hadn’t maliciously framed my brother. If Ben hadn’t shoved him to the concrete. Ben didn’t understand what I meant. He just sat heavily beside me, gently picking up my arm that was still crusted with dried blood and dirt. “You were in the wrong today. Don’t try to blur the lines just because your brother got sick. I’ll let you vent today, but when we get back, you are apologizing to Chloe.” I didn’t argue. I just kept talking, completely disconnected from whatever reality he was living in. “Do you know what the very last wish on his list is?” Ben let out an exhausted sigh. He softened his tone, realizing he just had to humor me. “What is it?” That tone. It was so painfully familiar. It was the exact tone he used when he asked me to be his girlfriend at eighteen. The amusement park fireworks exploded in the distance, casting brief flashes of light against the sterile hospital walls. I stared dead into his eyes. I didn’t even have the energy to fake a smile anymore. “He wants us to break up.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616416”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On our wedding day, the bridal party played Truth or Dare for the door-crashing ceremony. Rick smirked as he admitted his dare. “Cici, I leaked those private photos of you. When Mia’s were exposed, my parents and I had to protect her. Making you take the fall was the only way.” The room erupted. My mother stepped forward. “Mia has suffered. You need to accommodate her. Even if we tricked you, no real harm was done, right?” Rick knelt before me. “Now that you’re married, your wish came true. Do me a favor—don’t come looking for me anymore.” My fingers turned ice cold. “Rick, what do you mean?” He tapped my nose, gentle but looking at me like I was delusional. “Mia and I already got our license. I’m only doing this wedding so you get the aisle experience. Our actual wedding is tonight. In this same ballroom.” Confetti cannons exploded, ringing like sirens. Every bridal party member wore a mocking smile. Everyone knew but me. Rick held up my wedding heels. “Cici, it’s completely up to you whether you want to finish this ceremony or not.” … It felt like someone had wrapped their hands around my throat. I couldn’t force a single word out. My father stood off to the side, looking annoyed. “Why are you just standing there? Stop wasting everyone’s time. Mia is waiting for us at the photo spot.” “The faster you finish this up, the less time she has to wait, and the less sun she has to deal with.” My mother smacked my father’s arm, adding a comment that made my heart physically ache. “Why are you stating the obvious? Mia burns easily, which is exactly why her wedding is scheduled for tonight.” “Since the lighting is good right now, let’s just use Cici to figure out the best camera angles.” Hearing that name tossed around over and over, my fingers dug viciously into the tulle of my wedding dress. Fifteen years ago, Mia’s mother saved my mother’s life. When her mother passed away, my parents took Mia into our home. From that exact day forward, “You must be grateful” became the only phrase they ever said to me. So the pretty dresses I loved? Given to Mia. The cookies my grandmother baked specifically for me? Given to Mia. I accommodated her for so long that my parents completely stopped seeing me as their actual daughter. And now, I was supposed to give up my fiancé, too. “I’m so sorry, I’m late.” Mia’s voice shattered my memories. She was wearing a standard, simple bridesmaid dress. But the moment she walked in, every single eye in the room locked onto her. My mother immediately rushed over to dab the sweat off Mia’s forehead. “Mia, sweetie, didn’t I tell you to rest at home? Why did you come all the way here?” Mia put on her best innocent, accommodating smile. “Cici is my sister. Today is her big day. How could I miss it?” Rick practically sprinted across the room, gently hovering his hands over her shoulders. “Are you nervous?” “You still haven’t kicked that habit of pushing yourself when you’re anxious, have you?” Mia glanced up at him with a soft laugh. “You always know me best. I am a little nervous, so I wanted to come down early and watch the rehearsals.” A bitter, agonizing acidity rose in my chest. I gritted my teeth and violently kicked off the wedding heels I had just put on. I wanted to ruin everything for her. “I’m not getting married.” Standing barefoot on the floor, I turned around and marched toward the door. But Rick shot a look at his groomsmen, and they instantly blocked my path. “Since Mia came all this way to see a full wedding rehearsal, you are going to finish this ceremony today.” I froze in my tracks. A sharp, freezing pain shot down my spine. I had reached a point where I didn’t even have the fundamental right to cancel my own wedding. My father stomped over, jabbing his finger hard against my forehead. “Can you stop being such a brat? There are so many friends and family out there. Do you have no shame?” “As the younger sister, it is your job to accommodate her.” Those words slammed directly into the most fragile part of my heart. Mia and I were never related. Why was it my absolute obligation to treat her like royalty? I stared dead into my father’s eyes. My voice was shaking uncontrollably. “Dad, I just want to ask you one thing. Between me and Mia, who is your actual daughter?” Hearing that, tears instantly welled up in Mia’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Cici, please don’t misunderstand! I never, ever wanted to steal your parents from you.” “I… I just love you all like my real family…” Rick immediately pulled her behind him, glaring at me with pure disgust. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?! Stop holding everyone up.” “Rick, who exactly is…” Before I could even finish my sentence, he grabbed my wrist and aggressively dragged me out of the hotel. My bare feet scraped against the rough pavement. Every step felt like I was walking on broken glass. But Rick didn’t notice, or didn’t care. His grip on my wrist was like a vice. My parents hurried behind us, their entire focus locked onto Mia. “Mia, watch your step. Don’t trip over your dress.” “Cici is just stubborn and petty. Don’t let her attitude ruin your mood.” Looking at this sick, twisted farce of a wedding, I felt completely dead inside. I pulled out my phone with my free hand and replied to the email from the overseas corporate branch. “I accept the offer. I will arrive for onboarding next Monday.” Since this family had completely erased my existence the day Mia moved in. I would just erase myself from their world for good. When we finally reached the outdoor photography spot. I realized something sickening. The massive welcome sign that was supposed to have my and Rick’s faces on it. It was replaced with a gorgeous portrait of him and Mia. Months ago, he spent hours testing out every possible lighting angle at this exact spot. Even this morning, he told me he wanted me to be the most beautiful bride on earth. Now the truth was agonizingly clear. All that gentle devotion was just a front to make sure everything was perfect for Mia. “Stand exactly here and don’t move.” “When Mia is satisfied with the shots, you can leave.” He shoved me onto the designated spot. He was as cold as if I were a literal mannequin. The harsh midday sun beat down relentlessly, blinding my eyes. I had suffered from extreme light sensitivity since I was a child. Whenever I brought it up to my parents, they would just brush it off. “It’s just a minor issue. Stop being so dramatic.” When I started dating Rick, he would always pull a sun hat over my head before we went outside. He would instinctively raise his hand to block the glare from my eyes. But right now, he was standing a few feet away, holding a professional camera right in Mia’s face. “Mia, how does this angle look? Do you like the framing?” Mia glanced at the digital screen. “Rick, you are so talented!” “But… the lighting is a bit…” As they talked, I tried to step back into the shade. Rick immediately snapped at me. “We need to shoot exactly one hundred photos for Mia today. We haven’t even finished the first batch.” “Cici, suck it up and stay on your mark.” My mother stomped over, yanking me roughly back onto the scorching concrete. She muttered viciously under her breath. “If Mia doesn’t get the perfect photos today, I am blaming you.” “You’re just being difficult because you’re jealous.” My vision completely blurred. Tears flooded my eyes until I couldn’t even see my own shadow on the ground. I couldn’t remember when I became a total ghost in my own family. I stood barefoot on the boiling concrete for almost an hour. My legs were trembling so violently I thought I would collapse. When they finally finished the first set, Mia walked over and held a bottle of water out to me. “Cici, it’s my fault you’re standing out here. I just really wanted these pictures.” “Drink some water. Please say you forgive me?” As I reached out to grab the bottle, she intentionally let it slip through her fingers. The water splashed onto the concrete, splashing a few drops of dirt onto the hem of her dress. Rick snapped his head up, his brow heavily furrowed. “Cici, what the hell is your problem?!” “Mia was nice enough to bring you water, and you refuse to even take it.” “You just ruined her dress! Do you even have the money to pay for that?!” I glanced down at her sparkling, designer gown. For as long as I could remember, I wore cheap, bargain bin clothes my parents bought from flea markets. They always said the expensive things had to be saved for Mia. They told me I wasn’t delicate enough to need nice clothes. The suffocating rage I had buried for years finally exploded. “I didn’t even touch the bottle! She dropped it herself!” “Rick, are you literally blind, or are you just looking for an excuse to humiliate me?!” He froze, completely stunned into silence. Mia gently tugged at his sleeve. “Rick, what are you doing?” “It wasn’t Cici’s fault. My hand slipped. You are not allowed to yell at her.” “Quick, apologize to Cici.” Rick looked down at Mia and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Mia. I just lost my temper. Please don’t be upset.” “And Cici, I apologize on her behalf. She’s always been too forgiving for her own good.” He managed to twist an apology that was supposed to be for me into another way to highlight my flaws. A chilling numbness washed over me. I pushed myself off the ground, walking straight past them. “Rick, I wish you both a lifetime of misery.” “After today, you and I are completely done.” I ordered an Uber and went straight to the ER alone. The triage doctor took one look at the bottom of my feet and asked what happened. I fought back the tears threatening to spill over. “I accidentally stepped on something hot.” After getting my feet bandaged, I limped slowly toward the exit. Suddenly, a massive crowd of people surged down the hallway. Someone violently shoved me out of the way. I crashed to the floor, my prescription bottles scattering everywhere. I looked up and saw Rick sprinting toward the trauma bay, carrying Mia in his arms like a madman. My parents were sprinting right behind him, their faces pale with terror. “Doctor! You have to save her!” “She ate a peanut! She’s having an allergic reaction!” Mia was rushed through the emergency doors. Rick stood there panting. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted me sitting on the floor. “Cici, what are you doing here?” I didn’t say a word. He glanced down at my heavily blistered and bandaged feet, frowning slightly. “When did you get hurt?” “I got hurt when you dragged me out to stand barefoot on boiling concrete for an hour.” I stared dead into his eyes. “Don’t you think pretending to care right now is a little pathetic?” He opened his mouth to speak, his face turning bright red. My mother glanced down at me, her voice dripping with annoyance. “You came all the way to the hospital for a few blisters? What a waste of money.” Before I could even defend myself, a nurse called out for Mia’s family. My parents instantly shoved past me. My mother grabbed the nurse’s arm, repeating the same thing over and over. “I don’t care how much it costs! Give her the absolute best medication you have! You have to save my Mia!” The absolute last shred of love I had for my family shattered into dust. I felt like a sponge completely wrung dry. I didn’t even have the strength to stand up. I dragged myself back to the empty house and started packing my suitcases. I put all my IDs and crucial documents safely in my bag. Without me realizing, the sun went down. I reached out to turn on the living room light, but nothing happened. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my father. “We are staying at the hospital tonight to watch over Mia.” “I cut the main breaker to the house. Since you’re the only one there, there’s no reason to waste electricity.” When I was in middle school, I was locked in my pitch black bedroom for an entire night. I called my parents dozens of times, but nobody answered. When I finally got out the next morning, I found out the truth. Mia had mentioned she wanted a specific cake from a bakery two towns over, so they drove out and spent the entire day having fun without me. Later, at a parent teacher conference, I tried to laugh off the story to the other moms. The other parents looked at me with deep pity. But my parents? They were busy discussing which designer dress to buy Mia next. A dark, bitter smile touched my lips. I navigated the dark hallway back to my room. Early the next morning, my parents brought Mia home. Seeing me leaning against my bedroom door, my father barked: “What are you standing around for? Go make lunch!” “Mia wants honey glazed wings and braised ribs. Don’t make them too sweet, and absolutely no cilantro.” I stood there, staring at the floor. They had every single one of Mia’s dietary preferences memorized flawlessly. Yet, the last time we went out for dinner, they ordered an entire table of spicy food. When I quietly reminded them that I was highly allergic to chili peppers, they accused me of intentionally ruining Mia’s night. Seeing that I wasn’t moving, my mother’s face darkened. “Why are you still standing there? What if Mia’s stomach starts hurting because she’s hungry?” Rick parked his car and walked in, immediately stepping in to play the peacemaker. “Mr. and Mrs. Reed, why don’t you take Mia to the couch so she can rest.” “Cici and I will handle lunch together.” He grabbed my wrist, yanked me into the kitchen, and slammed the door shut behind us. “What is your problem now? Are you still throwing a fit over the wedding? I already apologized, didn’t I?” “Are you seriously going to hold a grudge over this?” Even now, he truly believed I was just throwing a childish tantrum. My fingernails dug so deep into my palms they almost drew blood. “I am not cooking.” I violently ripped my hand out of his grip. “If you want to cook for Mia, do it yourself.” I turned to walk back to my room, just as Mia was coming down the stairs. She smiled sweetly and grabbed my arm. “Cici, please don’t be mad. I was just craving your cooking.” “Mom and Dad were just trying to make me happy. Please don’t take it personally.” My chest felt like it was filled with cement. I couldn’t move an inch. I viciously shoved her hand off my arm and walked up the stairs without looking back. From the living room, I heard my father comforting her. “Mia, ignore her. We completely spoiled her.” “If she had even half of your maturity, my life would be so much easier.” I let out a dark laugh on the landing. Fine. You want me gone? I’ll give you exactly what you want. That afternoon, I officially resigned from my local job. When I got home, I saw my parents shoving a debit card into Mia’s hands. I recognized that card immediately. It was the checking account where my entire salary was deposited. And lying on the floor next to the couch was my purse, ripped open. I sprinted over, staring at my mother in absolute horror. “What gives you the right to touch my bank account?!” My mother immediately raised her voice, completely unbothered. “We raised you for over twenty years! Do you have any idea how much money we spent keeping you alive?!” “What’s wrong with giving back to Mia now?! Why are you so ungrateful?!” That account held every single dollar I had ever saved in my life. I had been saving for years to finally buy my own apartment and escape this hell. But now, my only lifeline was being handed away. “The rent, the groceries, and the gifts I’ve bought you since I graduated college easily paid back whatever you spent raising me!” The second I got my first paycheck, my parents demanded a massive monthly ‘living fee.’ For every holiday, I was forced to buy them expensive gifts and cash envelopes. But Mia? She lived rent-free, entirely funded by my parents. “Why does my money belong to Mia?!” “Who exactly is your real daughter?!” Mia quickly tried to hand the card back, putting on a perfect performance of being deeply conflicted. But the look in her eyes was pure, venomous triumph. “Mom, Dad, I really can’t take Cici’s money. Please take it back.” My father grabbed her hand and forcefully shoved the card into her pocket. “Mia, keep it. Ignore her.” “She’s used to throwing tantrums and expecting everyone to cater to her.” Cater to me? When, in my entire life, had they ever catered to me?! Before I could even process the shock, Rick stepped forward. He placed a thick stack of cash into Mia’s hands. “Cici, I withdrew all the emergency funds we set aside for the wedding.” “Mia and I are hosting our official reception in a few days. Consider this your blessing to us.” When we started planning the wedding, Rick suggested we create a joint fund. We agreed to split the costs exactly fifty-fifty. But he kept dragging his feet on depositing his half, forcing me to drain my personal savings to cover the deposits. The agonizing memory of starving myself just to pay for a wedding that was never mine came rushing back. It felt like someone was carving my heart out with a dull knife. “What gives you the right?!” I lunged forward to rip the money out of his hands. “Rick, don’t you dare forget that I paid for every single cent of that wedding!” “What gives you the right to give it to her?!” My father aggressively stepped in front of Mia, pointing a finger directly in my face. “You heartless bitch!” “Mia’s mother saved your mother’s life! A daughter pays her mother’s debts! What’s wrong with taking a little of your money?!” I refused to listen to their psychotic logic. I dove forward again to grab my debit card from Mia. But my mother grabbed me by the hair and slapped me across the face as hard as she could. “Learn your damn place! You’re making a scene over a few dollars like a common thug!” “If you throw one more tantrum, we are disowning you for good!” My cheek burned like fire. The tears I had fought back for days finally spilled over my eyelashes. “I wish to God you had never given birth to me.” I didn’t say another word. I turned around and walked back to my room. For the next four days, the house was filled with laughter and wedding planning. But my bedroom felt like it had been entirely erased from existence. Not a single person checked if the severe burns on my feet were healing. Nobody even asked if I had eaten a meal. The night before my flight, Rick opened my bedroom door for the first time. He threw a bridesmaid dress onto my bed. “Mia wants you to be her maid of honor. You better be on time tomorrow.” He turned and walked away. It was like he truly believed his ex-fiancée was meant to stand in the background and play a supporting role in his new life. I picked up the dress and shoved it directly into the trash can. I was absolutely not going to that wedding. The next morning, before the sun even came up, I grabbed my suitcases and walked out the front door. As the plane lifted into the sky, the city shrank into tiny, meaningless blocks. From this moment on, I had absolutely zero connection to the family that had drained the life out of me for twenty years.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616415”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel