Author: Momo Chan

1 On our wedding anniversary, my husband did something incredibly rare. He brought home a bouquet of flowers. The second he walked through the door, he didn’t even take off his coat. He went straight for a glass vase, carefully filling it with water and patiently arranging the stems. “What put you in such a good mood today?” I asked, a genuine smile touching my lips. “Amanda bought them,” he replied with a light chuckle. “She told me she’d kick my ass if I let them die. How could I not take this seriously?” Amanda. His female childhood best friend. I froze. My mind violently drifted away to a memory from just two weeks ago. It was my birthday. My parents, who had lived frugally their entire lives, walked halfway across the city to a premium florist just to buy me a beautiful bouquet as a gift. But when Wesley came home that night, his first reaction was to snatch the flowers off the dining table and toss them onto the messy shoe rack right in front of my parents. “They take up too much space on the table,” he had muttered. “Don’t bother with this kind of stuff anymore. It’s just a hassle.” My parents’ faces flushed with deep embarrassment, but they kept their mouths shut, terrified of making things difficult for me. It took me far too long to finally understand. The flowers were never the hassle. I was the hassle. Since that was the case, I no longer needed to harbor any expectations. My gaze lingered on Amanda’s pristine flowers for only a fraction of a second before I turned around and walked back into the kitchen. A slow-roasted tenderloin, two elegant side dishes, and a creamy bisque sat on the marble counter. I had been slaving away over the stove since four in the afternoon for this anniversary dinner. Looking at the food that had gone completely cold, I silently picked up the plates and shoved them into the microwave. This was the third time I had reheated our dinner tonight. Wesley usually got off work at six. I had timed everything perfectly. But by eight o’clock, he still wasn’t home. I called him. The background noise on his end was a chaotic blur of loud chatter. “What is it?” he answered, his tone laced with blatant impatience. I purposely didn’t mention our anniversary. I just asked what time he would be home. Wesley stayed silent for a long, agonizing moment before finally speaking. “Give me about half an hour.” I started to tell him to drive safe, but the line went dead before I could finish the sentence. It wasn’t until ten o’clock at night that I finally heard the turn of the deadbolt. Wesley walked in, a faint, lingering smile painted across his handsome face. “Hey honey, I’m home. Sorry to keep you waiting.” The moment the apology left his mouth, he completely ignored me and started fussing over his precious flowers. He ordered premium plant food on his phone. He called a florist buddy to ask about the exact sunlight requirements. Another half hour vanished into thin air. He had completely forgotten that today was our anniversary. He had also forgotten that he was the one who suggested we stay in and cook a nice dinner tonight. I didn’t reheat the food a fourth time. I didn’t call him over. I simply sat alone at the dining table, quietly chewing the meal I had spent hours perfecting. By the time I finished washing my plate and wiping down the sink, Wesley finally remembered I existed. “Honey, didn’t you say you were cooking tonight? I’m starving.” His tone was incredibly casual, acting as if nothing was wrong. When I didn’t immediately respond, his brow furrowed, and he raised his voice. “Audrey? What’s wrong with you? Did you not cook? Ugh, whatever, I’ll just order some takeout.” There was a very obvious trace of disappointment in his voice when he said that. But it only lasted a second. As he turned his head to admire the meticulously pruned flowers, the corners of his mouth unconsciously curled upward. Right at that moment, his phone vibrated on the counter. I glanced over and caught a clear view of the caller ID. Amanda. Followed by a bright red heart emoji. An inexplicable memory from last week crashed into my mind. I had borrowed his phone to check the tracking on an Amazon package. Whether it was in his call log or his messaging app, I was saved under my full legal name. Audrey Davis. I had actually picked a fight with him over it. And Wesley had expertly produced an excuse to shut me up. “I have to hand my phone to my coworkers to check files all the time. I don’t want them seeing cheesy nicknames. It’s unprofessional. Besides, our relationship is our business. I call you ‘honey’ when we’re alone, don’t I?” I believed him. It wasn’t until this exact second that the brutal truth slapped me in the face. I had been lying to myself this entire time. Right before we got married, Wesley mentioned he had a childhood friend living in Europe. He told me that if Amanda ever moved back to the States, he had to look out for her. I didn’t think much of it back then. I had guy friends I grew up with too. But slowly, the boundaries began to blur into something toxic. No matter what Wesley was doing, a single text from Amanda was enough to make him drop everything and run. My birthday happens to be on the exact same day as Amanda’s. Wesley always celebrated with her first. I had cried. I had screamed. I had thrown things. And all it ever earned me was a cold glare and him telling me I was acting like a crazy person. I remained completely silent in the kitchen. Wesley’s sharp eyes suddenly caught the stack of clean, empty plates on the drying rack. “You did cook? Why didn’t you wait for me?” “Since when did you become so selfish, Audrey? Seriously, that’s just petty.” The insult slipped off his tongue effortlessly. It was basically muscle memory. It was as if, deep down in his core, he truly believed I was a vindictive, terrible wife. I didn’t even bother lifting my head. My voice was a flat, hollow line. “I did tell you.” “The second you walked in, I told you dinner was ready.” “But you were too busy babying your flowers and texting your phone to even look at me.” Wesley choked on his words. A heavy silence suffocated the room for a long time before he finally cleared his throat. “I guess I didn’t hear you,” he said, his tone defensive. “You know how I get. I can’t multitask when I’m focused on something.” I kept my eyes on the floor, letting out a silent, self-deprecating laugh. That was a blatant lie. Six months ago, I accidentally slipped with a kitchen knife and sliced my finger open. Thick, dark blood immediately began pouring into the sink. Hearing my gasp, Wesley rushed into the kitchen to wrap my hand in a towel. But his phone was pressed against his ear. He was on a call with Amanda. “You’re a grown woman, how are you this clumsy?” he scolded me harshly. “Thank God you didn’t hit the bone, otherwise I’d have to waste my night dragging you to the ER. Do you know how annoying that is?” He had always been like this. Even his version of caring felt like a verbal beating. I had swallowed the pain, opening my mouth to assure him I was fine. But Amanda’s voice blasted through the speakerphone first. She sounded frantic and incredibly annoyed. “Ugh! I can’t find my AirPods again! I tore the whole apartment apart! I’m so mad, you gave those to me!” Wesley didn’t even look up at my bleeding hand, yet he answered her without missing a beat. “You dummy, didn’t you say you were using them in bed? Check under your pillows.” She had randomly mentioned her headphones in passing hours ago. I had absolutely no memory of it, yet Wesley had filed that tiny, useless detail away in his brain. A few seconds of rustling echoed through the phone before Amanda squealed with joy. “Found them! Look at you, Wes, paying such close attention to everything I say. I owe you a fancy dinner for this!” Wesley actually laughed at her teasing. “Deal. We’re going to that Italian place you love.” Standing in my own kitchen, dripping blood onto the floor, I felt like a trespasser watching two lovers through a window. Even then, I stupidly brushed it off. It took me until tonight to connect the dots. He didn’t have an attention problem. He just never cared enough to listen to a single word I said. I pulled myself out of the suffocating memories. “If you’re hungry, order something yourself,” I said coldly. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.” I turned to walk down the hall, but Wesley suddenly grabbed my wrist. He stayed quiet for a second, his tone softening considerably. “Honey, are you actually mad?” “I didn’t forget our anniversary. I really wanted to come home early to be with you, but Amanda insisted on buying me dinner. I couldn’t just brush her off. That’s why I’m late.” “And I swear I didn’t hear you call me for dinner. Please stop being mad, okay? I’ll clean the kitchen. You go rest.” He glanced past my shoulder at the empty plates and let out a soft sigh. “Don’t cook such a massive meal next time. We’ve been married for years, we don’t need all this romantic fluff. It’s too much work.” It was incredibly rare for Wesley to willingly offer an explanation, but it only made my chest feel tighter. Six years of marriage. For the first few years, he was constantly flying across the country trying to build his firm. Then Amanda moved back. We had barely celebrated a single anniversary properly. This time, he was the one who specifically asked for a nice, home-cooked celebration. So I spent hours prepping the food and decorating the living room with candles. And my reward was him telling me my efforts were a chore. It was utterly pathetic. I walked into the master bedroom and laid on top of the covers. The walls in this house weren’t completely soundproof. Through the drywall, I could hear Wesley’s low, relaxed laughter. “Don’t worry about the flowers, I’ll keep them alive.” “It’s supposed to pour tomorrow, don’t forget your umbrella.” I didn’t need to guess who was on the other end of the line. Amanda must have said something demanding, because Wesley let out a helpless, indulgent chuckle. “Fine, fine, I’ll pick you up from your office, happy now? You really treat me like your personal butler.” It was past one in the morning when he finally walked into the bedroom. Without asking if I was asleep, he slid into the sheets and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist from behind. “I’ll come home early next time, honey. I promise.” He didn’t specify what the “next time” was for. But I knew the absolute truth. There wasn’t going to be a next time. I used a bit of force to pry his fingers off my stomach. Wesley’s body stiffened in surprise. “What’s wrong?” I have suffered from severe insomnia since I was a teenager. I physically could not fall asleep unless I was holding onto something. After we got married, Wesley memorized this habit. No matter how late he worked, he always made sure to hold me until I drifted off. I had grown completely dependent on his warmth. But tonight, the feeling of his skin pressing against mine literally made my stomach turn. “I want to sleep alone.” “Because I have no idea what time Amanda is going to call you next, and I don’t want to be woken up again.” The mattress violently shifted. Wesley sat bolt upright, ripping the blanket off himself. “What is your problem tonight? Do you really have to speak to me with such venom?” “I’ve explained my relationship with Amanda a thousand times! Why are you always making up these delusional scenarios in your head?” “I don’t want to fight with you, but you are being completely unreasonable today.” I had heard this exact speech so many times I could recite it backwards. Every single massive blowout we ever had was about Amanda. It always ended with me breaking down in tears. And Wesley would offer a half-hearted pat on the back, followed by his favorite critique. “You really need to fix your temper, Audrey. Who else could put up with you but me?” “You’re constantly acting crazy and paranoid. No wonder Amanda doesn’t want to be friends with you.” Yet, if Amanda threw a tantrum? He offered endless comfort. He never raised his voice. And he certainly never blamed her. Seeing me lay there in silence, Wesley’s temper flared. “Audrey, if you have a problem, just say it. Stop making me guess your mood!” “I work like a dog all day, and I come home just to walk on eggshells around you. I’m a human being. I get tired too.” I kept my mouth shut. A memory from just last week abruptly surfaced in my mind. Wesley had been stuck at the office finalizing a massive merger until 3 AM. He came home with dark purple bags under his eyes and passed out on the living room sofa with his shoes still on. But the second his phone rang and Amanda’s name flashed on the screen, he shot up like a soldier. “What? Your hallway light bulb burned out? Okay, I’m coming over to fix it right now. Don’t be scared.” He was running on zero hours of sleep, yet the word “tired” never left his lips. Amanda lived on the south side of town, a solid forty-minute drive from our house. I couldn’t bear to watch him exhaust himself, so I suggested Amanda call the building super, or at least wait until the sun came up. Wesley immediately snapped at me. “Are you insane? Amanda is terrified of the dark. Having no lights is torture for her.” “Besides, she’s a woman living alone. You want her letting a random maintenance guy into her apartment at 3 AM? What is wrong with you?” He grabbed his car keys and slammed the front door without looking back. I was left standing in the foyer, completely paralyzed. I was terrified of the dark, too. Once, I had to work late at the office until midnight. The subway was sketchy, so I called Wesley and asked if he could pick me up. His response? “It’s your own fault for not managing your time better.” “You’re a grown woman. Can you seriously not take an Uber home by yourself? Stop being so dramatic.” His blatant double standards weren’t a new development. I was just too incredibly stupid to accept reality until now. I let out a bitter, raspy laugh, pulling myself out of the memory. “Are you done talking? If you’re not going to sleep, get out. I’m tired.” Wesley stood over the bed, looking down at me with absolute disgust. “You are completely irrational.” He turned on his heel and stormed out. The bedroom door slammed shut so violently the picture frames on the wall rattled. The very last thread tethering my heart to this marriage snapped. Any trace of sleep vanished from my system. I picked up my phone and opened a chat with an old college friend who worked in family law. [Draft a divorce agreement for me. Make it as fast as humanly possible.] The next morning, a sharp ringing jarred me awake. But I never expected the name flashing on the screen. It was Amanda. “Are you free this afternoon? We need to talk.” I was about to tell her to go to hell, but she hung up before I could get a word out. After debating it for a few minutes, I grabbed my coat and headed to the address she texted me. When I walked into the upscale cafe, Amanda was already sitting in a corner booth, sipping a latte. “I honestly thought you wouldn’t have the guts to show up.” I didn’t take the bait. I sat across from her and cut straight to the point. “What do you want?” Amanda took a slow, deliberate sip from her mug. Her tone was smug and relaxed. “Nothing much. I just noticed Wes was in a terrible mood this morning. I figured you two got into another fight, so I came to check on the situation.” She spoke about my husband as if he belonged to her. As if she possessed the ultimate authority to monitor his moods. “If you have something to say, say it. Drop the passive-aggressive act.” She intentionally asked me out, intentionally used the pet name ‘Wes’ right to my face. She wanted to see me lose my mind. She wanted me to scream and make a scene. When I remained perfectly calm, the smugness melted off her face, replaced by a cold sneer. “You know, you’re a really fascinating person, Audrey.” “Every time Wes takes me out, you must be dying of jealousy on the inside, right? Yet you sit here pretending you don’t care at all.” My heart skipped a beat. She knew. She knew everything. When I first noticed the red flags between them, I sat Wesley down. “Don’t you think Amanda is crossing the line?” I had pleaded. “She knows you’re a married man, but she inserts herself into every single detail of your life.” “Are you sure you guys are just friends?” Before I could even finish the sentence, Wesley aggressively cut me off. “You’re delusional.” “Amanda’s entire family is in Europe. I’m the only person she knows in this city. Isn’t it normal that we talk a lot?” “Besides, I’ve known her since we were wearing diapers. If there was ever going to be something between us, do you really think I would have married you?” “Amanda is innocent and sweet. Stop projecting your dirty thoughts onto her. You’re going to end up hurting her feelings.” Maybe Wesley was so deep in denial that he couldn’t even hear himself. Every single word out of his mouth was designed to protect her. I never brought it up again after that day. But sitting across from Amanda now, it was glaringly obvious. She knew exactly what she was doing. The silver lining was that it simply didn’t hurt anymore. I casually picked up my own coffee cup and took a sip. “You’re giving yourself too much credit,” I said smoothly. “When I loved Wesley, he was worth something to me. Now that I don’t give a damn about him, he’s basically garbage.” “If you have a fetish for digging through the trash, be my guest. I’m officially handing him over to you.” My voice was deadpan. Amanda’s face instantly hardened. She stopped talking, glancing quickly down at her phone. A wicked, calculated smile crept onto her lips. “Tell me, Audrey. If you and I got into a physical altercation right now, whose side do you think he would take?” Before my brain could even process her words, Amanda lunged across the table, grabbed my full cup of iced coffee, and dumped it directly over her own chest. She let out a piercing, theatrical scream. Right on cue, a familiar voice roared from the entrance. “Amanda!” She looked at me, coffee dripping down her ruined designer dress, and smiled wickedly. “You lose.” A split second later, her face twisted into a mask of pure terror and heartbreak. She covered her mouth, fake sobs tearing from her throat. “Audrey, why did you do that?! I only came here to apologize to you! Why would you throw your drink at me?” Wesley practically sprinted across the cafe. Without asking a single question or letting me speak, he glared at me with eyes full of absolute venom. “Audrey. Apologize to her. Now.” I stared at the two of them, thoroughly amused by the absolute absurdity of the situation. I raised my hand and flagged down a waiter. “Can I get a refill on the iced coffee, please?” The moment the waiter placed the fresh glass on the table, I picked it up and hurled the dark liquid directly into both of their faces. “Take a good look, Wesley,” I said coldly. “That is what it looks like when I actually do it.” Wesley stood there, dripping wet, staring at me like I was a monster. He didn’t say another word. He frantically grabbed napkins to wipe Amanda’s face and ushered her out of the cafe to get her changed. I watched their retreating figures, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping my lips. It was finally time to kill this rotting marriage.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480759”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My long-distance boyfriend’s distant tone suddenly shifted. When I complained about the heat, he told me to shave my head. Asked about his post-grad plans, he said he wanted to see me in a sailor uniform in an empty classroom. I thought grad school stress had brought out a playful side. Walking in nervously, the lights snapped on. Asher’s lab partner Chloe yanked off my wig, revealing my buzz cut. The room exploded in laughter. “She actually shaved it!” Chloe shrieked. “Is that a sailor suit? Take off the jacket!” Camera flashes blinded me as phones recorded my humiliation. Then it hit me—for three years, those sweet messages weren’t from Asher. They were from Chloe. Tonight’s setup was just a bet to see how long it took me to notice. Asher looked disappointed in me. “Lab work’s exhausting. I let Chloe reply to keep you quiet,” he sighed. “How did you not realize it wasn’t me?” Something in me broke. The boy who once froze on his balcony fighting mosquitoes just to talk to me was gone. Our dream of studying abroad together died too. I’d have to chase it alone. “Evelyn, this has nothing to do with Chloe,” Asher continued, his voice void of any warmth. “You’re the one who needs to reflect on your absolute lack of common sense.” Using every ounce of strength I had, I clutched my jacket tightly across my chest and tried to push past the laughing crowd toward Chloe. Asher, who had been standing casually with his hands in his pockets, immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. “I gave Chloe my phone. I specifically asked her to reply to your messages,” he stated firmly. “As for the sailor outfit and the buzz cut…” His brow furrowed in absolute disgust. “It was an incredibly obvious joke. I can’t believe you were stupid enough to fall for it.” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the fabric of my jacket. My throat completely closed up. I couldn’t force a single syllable out of my mouth. Three years of long-distance. I was studying in Chicago, and he was in Boston. A thousand miles apart. I had been entirely consumed by the illusion of a devoted boyfriend who always texted back immediately. How was I supposed to magically guess that the person on the other end of the screen wasn’t him? Seeing me trembling violently under the blinding flashes, Asher let out an annoyed sigh. He pulled off his varsity jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “Let’s go. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I took a step back, dodging his touch. His annoyance instantly deepened. “What? Are you enjoying having everyone stare at you?” Standing safely behind him, Chloe suddenly burst into a bright, innocent giggle. “Wow, Asher! It looks like your girlfriend really loves the kinky games I came up with! She wants to stay here and play with you.” “But honestly, I get it,” she smirked, her eyes glinting with malice. “Considering she almost got assaulted by her older cousin when she was little…” Chloe deliberately paused. The crowd instantly gasped, their eyes widening with morbid, excited curiosity. My blood ran completely cold. “Asher!” I stared at him, my voice cracking in absolute horror. “You… you told her about that?” My entire body shook uncontrollably. Yet, he just shrugged, completely unfazed. “Chloe wanted to win the bet, so she scrolled through our chat history to learn your texting style.” “I was just following the rules of the game. Are you seriously blaming me for that?” Chloe dramatically covered her mouth, feigning shock. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I totally forgot that was a deep, dark secret between you two.” “But hey, you know what they say. Flies don’t swarm a seamless egg. If you respected your own body, things like that wouldn’t happen to you. Just look at you right now…” She narrowed her eyes, scanning me up and down. “You’re clutching that jacket so tight. Do you even have clothes on underneath that sailor uniform?” The crowd, eager for more drama, instantly began jeering. “Yeah! If you’re wearing normal clothes, why are you so terrified to open the jacket?” “If you’re playing these freaky games in public, please don’t use our golden boy Asher as your backup plan.” Asher, who had defended Chloe seconds ago, remained completely silent. He stared down at me. The look in his eyes was unmistakable. He was questioning my loyalty over the last three years. I couldn’t endure the suffocating humiliation for another second. I aggressively ripped the zipper of my jacket all the way down. Asher panicked, lunging forward with his own coat to cover me. “Evelyn, stop throwing a tantrum!” But I wasn’t naked. I wasn’t wearing a sailor uniform. I reached inside my jacket and pulled out a small, warm paper bag of roasted chestnuts. The exact brand he casually mentioned he was craving a few days ago. A thousand miles. A five-hour flight. I had kept the bag pressed against my chest the entire trip so it wouldn’t get cold. Looking back now, Asher had always hated snacks. His sudden craving for roasted chestnuts was probably just another one of Chloe’s sick pranks to make me run like a dog. Beneath my jacket, I was wearing a perfectly ordinary, oversized t-shirt. My eyes stung with unshed tears. I met Asher’s completely stunned gaze. “I’m so sorry to disappoint you.” I shoved past him and bolted out the door. I wandered aimlessly through the massive campus for three hours. My best friend, Maya, called me from her dorm in London. “So? How did it go? Was the great golden boy absolutely shocked that you locked down two fully-funded PhD spots in Europe?” “I’ve got the champagne ready for when you guys get here!” I swallowed the massive lump in my throat and cut her off. “Maya. He’s not coming.” “What?! What did that bastard do?!” After I choked out the story, Maya exploded on the other end of the line, cursing him out. “You worked yourself to the bone for three years to build a future for both of you, and he’s playing psychological games with some little bitch?!” “Does he have any idea what you sacrificed to get two full rides?!” I took a deep, shaky breath. The tears finally spilled over. Right before my flight, the Dean of my university had called me into his private office. “If you go to Europe alone for your PhD, the university will cover all expenses and issue you an additional hundred-thousand-dollar educational grant.” “If you insist on bringing your boyfriend, you forfeit the grant and cover his tuition entirely out of your own pocket.” The Dean slid two acceptance letters across his desk, looking at me with deep sympathy. “Evelyn, I know you and your boyfriend grew up in poverty together. I know you view yourselves as childhood sweethearts fighting against the world.” “When you started grad school, you drained your entire savings account to send him to a prestigious ivy league, while you settled for a lower-tier program just because it offered a full ride.” “You finally secured this incredible opportunity. Some paths are meant to be walked alone. You’ll move much faster without the dead weight.” Sitting on a cold bench in the middle of campus, I finally understood what the Dean meant. “My flight is tomorrow at noon. I’m going alone.” After hanging up with Maya, I walked into a 24-hour print shop. I filled out the solo acceptance form, scanned it, and emailed it directly to the Dean. The moment I stepped out of the shop, I ran straight into Asher and Chloe. Asher instinctively reached out and grabbed the handle of my rolling suitcase. “The guys took the joke too far. I already scolded Chloe.” “Stop being mad, okay?” I looked up. Right on his collarbone, peaking out from his shirt, was a dark bite mark smeared with red lipstick. He noticed my gaze and casually rubbed his neck. “I lost a drinking game. It was just a tiny penalty.” Chloe stepped forward, pouting playfully as she twirled her car keys. “I’m really sorry, Evelyn.” “Grad school is just so boring and stressful. I just wanted to find a little entertainment. I didn’t mean any harm by it.” “Asher was just sacrificing his dignity to boost the team’s morale. Seriously, don’t overthink it.” I calmly pulled my suitcase out of his grip. “Why would I?” Asher glanced at his expensive watch. “It’s getting late. I’ll drop you off at your hotel so you can rest, and then Chloe and I are heading out for a lab dinner.” Realizing how that sounded, he quickly added, “It’s just a bunch of people you don’t know. You’d feel awkward and out of place.” Chloe smoothly looped her arm through his. “Yeah, Evelyn. It’s kind of an exclusive department thing. It’s not really appropriate to bring outsiders. I promise I’ll return Asher to you later tonight.” I smiled. But my lungs felt like they were being crushed in a vice. A few hours ago, I was surrounded by a mob of his friends, photographed, and treated like a circus animal for their entertainment. He didn’t think twice about my feelings then. But a simple dinner? Suddenly, I was an outsider. “No need.” “Asher. We’re done.” Under the pale streetlights, Asher’s footsteps abruptly stopped. He turned around. He looked at me, then glanced at the glowing screen of my laptop in my bag, where the sent email was still visible. He reached out and fondly ruffled my buzz-cut hair. “Are you really this jealous?” “It’s your last night here. I’ll come back to the hotel as soon as the dinner is over.” “Then we’ll pack our bags and fly to Paris together for our PhDs. No more long-distance, I promise.” He firmly believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that I would happily surrender my pride and abandon my dignity, just to stay by his side. Just like I always did. Without waiting for my response, and with Chloe tugging impatiently at his sleeve, he hailed a cab for me. “Go to the hotel. I’ll bring you takeout. If you’re tired, just go to sleep. Be good.” I didn’t get into the cab he hailed. I took my suitcase and caught a different ride directly to the airport hotel. After checking in, I had just finished my shower when my phone buzzed. It was a video from Asher’s number, followed by an emoji of a cat sticking its tongue out. I didn’t need to guess who actually sent it. I tapped play. The video showed Asher sitting at a crowded bar. His face and ears were flushed red from the alcohol. A group of his lab mates were surrounding the table, hyping him up. They were clearly playing Truth or Dare. “Come on, Ash! Tell the truth! Have you ever actually caught feelings for our little Chloe?” “You’re always protecting her in the lab. There’s no way there isn’t a spark there!” Under the intense peer pressure, and with Chloe staring at him with wide, adoring eyes, the untouchable, perfectly composed golden boy smiled. His voice was incredibly soft, dripping with indulgence. “Maybe… if Evelyn wasn’t in the picture… I would have fallen for Chloe.” He reached out and gently patted her head. “Chloe, once I’m not here to watch your back, you have to be more careful. Stop being so reckless.” “If you get stuck on a project, or if you’re just having a bad day, you can call me anytime.” He spoke every word with absolute, unwavering sincerity. The last time he looked at someone like that was during our senior year of high school. He had sat beside me, patiently explaining every single math problem on my practice test. “Evelyn, don’t rush through the equations. If you’re stuck, just ask me. I’m going to pull you forward, and we’re going to make it out of here together.” The golden sunset had spilled across our cheap wooden desks. The promises of youth were always so incredibly fierce. Back then, I genuinely believed we would conquer the world together. The crowd in the video erupted into applause. “Asher! What a gentleman!” Someone, fueled by liquid courage, screamed over the music. “Don’t leave any regrets! Kiss her! Kiss her!” Chloe, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, shyly stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips directly against Asher’s. After a second of absolute silence, the bar exploded. The guys screamed, their faces red with excitement. The person holding the phone was jumping up and down so hard the footage blurred. Chloe collapsed happily into Asher’s chest. “Asher, you promised to take me stargazing.” “Can we go tonight? Please?” In the final second of the video, Asher’s soft, barely audible response pierced straight through my chest. “Okay.” I clicked on Asher’s profile for the very last time. Delete. Block. Clean and simple. The next morning, I sat in the airport terminal, my suitcase by my side. An unknown number called me. It was Asher. “Evelyn. We drank way too much last night.” “Okay.” “I didn’t sleep with Chloe.” “Alright.” Asher’s tone instantly shifted to deep irritation. “What I mean is, we didn’t cross any lines. So why did you launch a malicious attack to destroy her life?” “Someone forwarded a video of the classroom incident to the HR department of her internship.” I paused. “Did it actually impact her job?” I could hear Chloe sobbing hysterically in the background. Asher’s voice was lethal. “What do you think?” “Evelyn, when did you turn into such a toxic, vindictive person?” “First of all, I didn’t send any video to anyone.” “Second, what exactly am I ‘turning into’?” The sheer audacity of his accusation was absurd. But Asher sounded like he had been holding this in for years. He unloaded on me without taking a breath. “You’re petty. You throw tantrums. You hold grudges.” “Ever since you landed in Boston, you’ve been acting bizarre. Like the entire world owes you an apology.” “You are going to withdraw that complaint from her internship right now, and you are going to issue a public apology to Chloe!” For the first time in my life, I felt absolute, crystal clarity. The final glowing ember of my love for Asher completely extinguished. “And if I refuse?” “Then I’ll use the exact same tactics to completely destroy your academic transcript.” “You can kiss your PhD in Paris goodbye, Evelyn.” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. From a tiny, broken-down elementary school in the mountains to standing in this international airport. No one knew exactly how much blood, sweat, and tears I sacrificed to get here better than Asher. And now, over a pathetic girl and an imaginary crime, he was threatening to burn my life to the ground. I shook my head at the absolute absurdity of it all. Asher wasn’t bluffing. He would absolutely try to ruin me. Unfortunately for him, the Dean had finalized the transfer of my academic records to the European university database last night. My silence only enraged him further. He gritted his teeth, delivering his ultimate ultimatum. “If you don’t fix this, I am going to Paris alone. You will never see me again.” “Are you absolutely sure you want to push me this far, Evelyn?” The intercom crackled, announcing the final boarding call for my flight. I stood up and walked toward the gate. “I am absolutely sure.” “Asher. I hope I never see your face again.” “Fine! Don’t you dare come crawling back tonight begging—” I hung up the phone before he could finish. Standing in the lab, Asher stared at his dark screen, a terrifying rage igniting in his chest. Chloe was weeping so hard she was hyperventilating. She aggressively stomped her foot and slumped into a chair. “It was just a harmless prank! Why is she trying to ruin my life?!” “It’s over! Now that HR has this complaint, no reputable firm is ever going to hire me!” Asher quickly wrapped an arm around her, typing frantically on his laptop. He was sending an urgent email to his faculty advisor, begging him to intervene and save Chloe’s internship. Three seconds later, the advisor replied with a single URL link. Suspected female grad student mercilessly bullies classmate; secretly recorded by janitor. Video goes viral. In the video, I looked utterly terrified and helpless, surrounded by a mocking crowd. Chloe’s arrogant, vicious face was in perfect focus. The internet was out for blood. Netizens were bombarding the university with thousands of formal complaints. A voice memo from his advisor played out loud, his tone dripping with absolute fury. “A janitor walking by filmed the whole thing and posted it on TikTok! The internet is furious. We’ve received over three hundred emails demanding disciplinary action!” “With this level of viral outrage, losing an internship is the least of Chloe’s problems.” “I heard the victim is your girlfriend. Asher, you better fix this disaster before the university gets involved.” Hearing the audio, Chloe immediately stopped crying. A look of massive relief washed over her face. “Asher, this is perfect!” “Just force her to film a clarification video. Make her tell everyone it was just a staged skit for a project!” Asher stared at the viral video playing on his laptop screen. The shaky, blurry footage made the reality of the situation painfully clear. It looked exactly like a pack of wolves cornering a wounded animal. The laughter echoing from the speakers suddenly sounded incredibly cruel. For some inexplicable reason, for the very first time in his life, a cold spike of pure panic pierced his heart. A flicker of genuine guilt flashed in his eyes. But Chloe was relentlessly tugging at his sleeve, demanding he act. He picked up his phone and dialed my number again. But this time, he was met with a cold, mechanical voice. “The number you have dialed has been disconnected…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480758”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Luke proposed eight times. Each time, disaster struck. His friends sneered I was a jinx, our fates doomed to clash. Determined the ninth would be perfect, I came early to check everything myself. Instead, I found him cornering his secretary, his voice hard. “When you took my mother’s fifty-million-dollar payoff and left, did you think I wouldn’t marry?” “You’ve sabotaged my proposals over and over. Did you really think I’d play this game forever?” Someone whistled. “Luke, stop acting. You’ve humored her eight times already.” “What’s the drama today? If this fails, Nora will cry herself sick. Don’t you feel bad?” Luke laughed, unbothered. “Of course I do.” “But she’s sweet, easy to comfort. Even now, pregnant, a few kind words have her dreaming of the next proposal.” He looked at Sienna, eyes soft with unmistakable affection. “Not like some people—heartless. One fight and they vanish, forgetting everything.” “So tell me, whose feelings come first?” Their laughter stung my eyes with tears. I wasn’t a jinx. Those disasters weren’t accidents. Play your games with her, Luke. I don’t want your proposal anymore. 01 The event planner, who had just rushed over, greeted me with a warm smile. “Miss Nora? Why are you standing out here? Why aren’t you going inside?” She enthusiastically ushered me right to Luke’s side, then turned to her staff to bark out orders. “Everyone, get to your positions! The ceremony is starting now.” A delicate white veil was draped over my head. I stood there, watching Luke walk toward me step by step, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers. This time, the helium balloons didn’t suddenly explode like they did during the first proposal, setting my dress on fire and leaving me with painful burns. The heavy backdrop wall didn’t collapse and crush my arm into a fracture, repeating the disaster of the second proposal. And there was no random drunkard rushing in from nowhere to tackle me to the ground, trying to tear my gown off in a manic frenzy. Everything was going flawlessly. Luke slowly sank to one knee before me, his eyes glistening with what looked like genuine, emotional tears. My rational mind screamed at me to wake up, but hope still clawed its way up like wild weeds. What if, just this once… But in the very next second, every illusion shattered into pieces. The massive banner hanging from the ceiling unfurled: Sienna, marry me! The giant LED screens began scrolling through a montage of romantic photos. It wasn’t me. It was Sienna. Her radiant smile in those pictures felt like a physical slap to my face. Luke glanced up casually, his voice remarkably dismissive. “I’m so sorry, Nora. It looks like another mishap. We can’t go on with the proposal today. The new secretary is young and careless. I’ll make sure to reprimand her later.” Always the exact same excuse. Only today did I learn that Sienna wasn’t just some newly hired secretary. She was the first love Luke could never truly let go of. Obsessed with his past, he turned a blind eye to her sabotage. He even enabled her, letting her ruin my hopes over and over again without consequence. Even during the last proposal, when I was trapped in a sudden fire and nearly suffocated to death, Luke had brushed it off with a casual, “She didn’t mean to do it.” I stood there in complete silence. I didn’t try to salvage this “accident” like I always used to. Luke raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, then patted the back of my hand to comfort me. “Since the setup is already ruined anyway, we might as well roll with it. I’ll just go through the ceremony with someone else today. Think of it as a dress rehearsal so I can get a feel for the real thing.” The crowd fell into a stunned silence. Guests exchanged uneasy glances until one of his friends finally spoke up. “Luke, the other accidents were one thing, but swapping the bride on the fly today… isn’t that crossing the line a bit?” Even outsiders realized how messed up this was. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat and looked up at Luke, desperately searching his face for even a flicker of guilt. But he only paused for a fraction of a second before dismissing it. “Don’t worry, it’s just a rehearsal for the real deal. The actual proposal will be yours, I promise. And it’ll be way grander than this.” Without another ounce of hesitation, he turned around with the ring in hand, walked over to Sienna, and dropped to one knee. Sienna let out a gasp of delight and threw herself into Luke’s arms, her voice trembling with excitement. “Yes! A thousand times yes! Ten whole years… I’ve finally waited long enough for this.” Instantly, waves of mocking and pitiful stares shifted toward me. I sniffled, forcing my burning tears back. That diamond ring, the one Luke had spent months refining with a custom designer specifically for me, was now being carefully slid onto Sienna’s ring finger. “It’s just a ring, Nora. Don’t be petty,” Luke murmured, catching my gaze. “Your favorite designer just launched a new collection. I’ll have someone buy you the best piece tonight, and I’ll make sure you love it for our real proposal. Out with the old, in with the new. You deserve better anyway.” Watching Luke hold Sienna close amidst the cheers and wolf whistles of the crowd, I felt as if I were looking at a complete stranger. I forced myself to look away and nodded slowly. “You’re right. I do deserve better.” I paused, my voice steady. “Luke, we’re done. Let’s break up.” 02 The celebratory fireworks launched into the night sky, their thunderous booms completely drowning out my quiet voice. Luke frowned, leaning slightly toward me. “What did you say, Nora?” Before I could repeat myself, someone shoved Sienna forward, sending her stumbling directly into Luke’s arms. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her to steady her. The crowd surged forward, and someone yelled at the top of their lungs, “Kiss her! Kiss her!” Luke’s best friends winked and nudged him. “Come on, man, don’t waste this chance! Make up for all those lost years tonight!” Sienna blushed crimson, looking up at Luke with breathless anticipation. Nearby, guests and bystanders raised their phones, eager to capture the romantic moment. Luke turned back to me, his expression laced with mock helplessness. “What should I do? Everyone is putting me on the spot… If I don’t go along with it, the rumors will ruin Sienna’s reputation by tomorrow. She’s my employee, after all. I have to protect her.” Listening to his pathetic, paper-thin excuses, I felt nothing but a hollow sense of absurdity. When I was the one subjected to public humiliation and branded a curse, Luke had never cared. But when it came to his precious first love, he couldn’t bear to let her suffer even a second of discomfort. “Do whatever you want,” I said, offering him a faint smile. “A reunion like this is quite beautiful, isn’t isn’t?” Luke froze, seemingly unsettled by my lack of anger. “What are you talking about? It’s just a show for the crowd. Be good, Nora. You’ve always been the sensible one. Just give me a little time, and as soon as this is over, I’ll take you home.” I didn’t bother replying. I turned around and let myself fade into the bustling, noisy crowd. The romantic music I had personally selected reached its swelling crescendo. Under a shower of red rose petals I had spent weeks organizing, Luke and Sienna shared a passionate kiss. I joined the crowd, clapping along like a detached spectator. Someone gently nudged my elbow and offered me a tissue. “Did the romance make you cry too? I heard they were high school sweethearts. They lost touch for five years and only just found each other again. Apparently, when she broke up with him back then, he went absolutely wild with rage. The very next day, on Valentine’s Day, he hooked up with some random girl just to spite her.” Five years. Valentine’s Day. No wonder his friends had looked at me with such bizarre, pitying expressions when Luke first introduced me as his girlfriend. Some of them had swallowed their words; others had snickered behind my back. They had even set up a betting pool on how many days it would take for Luke to dump me. To them, I was nothing but a rebound, a “random girl” chosen to fill a void. The woman beside me kept babbling on. I quickly wiped my face, entirely uninterested in hearing a stranger gush over the fairytale reunion of my boyfriend and his soulmate. Muttering a quick thank-you, I spun on my heel and walked out. As I waited for a cab, the clouds finally broke, and a heavy downpour began to drench the streets. I spotted a single remaining umbrella in the venue’s rack. Just as my fingertips brushed the cold handle, a large hand snatched it away. “Sorry, Nora. Sienna has a weak constitution, and the rain is freezing. I can’t let her catch a cold.” I looked up in shock, only to see Luke’s retreating back. He didn’t even spare me a passing glance. Through the thick curtain of rain, I watched Luke open the umbrella, keeping it entirely over Sienna as they walked away. Perhaps sensing my gaze, he paused and looked back. Our eyes met. Luke hesitated, his gaze shifting uncomfortably between me and Sienna. “Nora, go find somewhere dry to wait. I’ll drop her off at the hotel lobby and come right back for you.” Before I could even open my mouth, he turned his back on me again and guided Sienna into the warmth. Inside the cab, my phone buzzed incessantly. Luke: Why did you head home on your own? The guys are hammered and won’t let me leave. I’m stuck here. Luke: Don’t be petty, babe. Go take a hot shower and get some sleep. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll make sure to be on time for your OB-GYN appointment tomorrow. I blocked his number immediately. Almost instantly, a call from my mother flashed on the screen. “Now that you’ve finally come to your senses, clean up your mess quickly,” she said, her voice crisp and businesslike. “Come back home. It’s time to prepare for your marriage alliance with the Harrington family.” 03 The morning sun was already filtering through the blinds when Luke finally stumbled back, reeking of alcohol. “Babe, why did you block me? Sienna and I… there’s really nothing going on between us.” As he bent over to hug me, a box of condoms slipped out of his coat pocket and clattered onto the hardwood floor. Luke didn’t even blink. He casually picked the box up and tossed it into the trash can. “The guys shoved those into my pocket last night. Annoying as hell. Don’t overthink it.” A torn plastic wrapper peeking out from his pocket. A fresh, raw bite mark on the web of his hand. Even asking questions felt like an exhausting waste of breath. I closed my eyes in deep fatigue. Luke finally noticed something was wrong. He reached out to touch my forehead. “Why are you burning up?” Dizzy and weak, I propped myself up and leaned back, deliberately carving out space between us. “I got soaked in a freezing downpour. Catching a fever is only natural, isn’t it? Oh, by the way… how was your night with Sienna at the boutique hotel?” Luke’s face darkened, his drunken haze instantly vanishing. “Were you spying on me?” I didn’t need to. Someone had been eager to ensure I knew, sending me the video directly to my phone. Luke yanked at his tie in frustration, looking at me as if I were the one causing trouble. “It was just a joke! The guys booked the room for laughs. The atmosphere got a bit carried away, so we just played along for the final part of the rehearsal. It’s not a big deal. Why do you always have to make a mountain out of a molehill? Aren’t you tired of this?” Swapping the bride was an accident. Getting a hotel room with his ex was a rehearsal. I stared at Luke, feeling a cold, hollow amusement. Amusement at his pathetic lies, and at myself for wasting five years on this man. The bedroom fell into a suffocating silence until his phone rang. The ringtone, customized specifically for Sienna, was high-pitched and grating. “Luke, I’m so stupid,” she whimpered over the speaker, her voice dripping with tears. “I can’t do anything right. I was just cutting some fruit and sliced my finger open. It won’t stop bleeding… I don’t know what to do.” Maybe it was the fever clouding my mind, or perhaps it was the sudden, fluttering sensation of the baby kicking for the very first time. I reached out and weakly caught the hem of Luke’s shirt. “Can you stay?” I heard my own voice, nasal and desperate, attempting to threaten him in a way I had once thoroughly despised. I just wanted to give our five years one final, desperate chance. “If you walk out that door, I’m terminating the pregnancy.” Luke stared down at my pale face. A trace of memory flickered in his eyes, replaced quickly by a smug, mocking smirk. “Cut the act, Nora.” He paused, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. “We both know how hard it was to get this baby. You really expect me to believe you’d throw that away?” So he did remember. The endless hormone injections. The cold, sterile operating table for the egg retrieval. The three miscarriages we fought through just to keep this one pregnancy viable. I never imagined that my physical agony would one day become the leverage he used to mock me. “That’s enough,” he sighed, patting my hand dismissively. “I promise the real proposal will go off without a hitch. Just stop throwing tantrums, okay?” Before he could finish, I spoke in a quiet, deadpan voice. “There won’t be a next time, Luke. Tomorrow, I’m going to the clinic…” But he didn’t even have the patience to let me finish. Snatching his car keys, he mumbled a distracted reply. “Tomorrow? Did they reschedule the ultrasound? Look, if you’re feeling sick from the fever, call the driver to take you. I really have to go check on Sienna.” I watched his retreating back as he rushed out, not even taking the time to put his shoes on properly. In the empty, silent room, I whispered the words I hadn’t finished. “To get an abortion… and then we are done forever.” A few minutes later, my screen lit up with a text message from the same unknown number. So sorry, sweetie. I accidentally nicked my finger, and he just had to drop everything to rush over to me. Attached was a photo of Luke, kneeling at her feet, his expression entirely focused as he carefully wrapped a band-aid around her finger. Ignoring Sienna’s petty provocation, I opened my contacts and sent a message to my doctor. Help me book the earliest termination procedure possible. 04 Once Luke was gone, any trace of sleepiness vanished. I got out of bed and began packing my things. The skincare products, the jewelry, the designer clothes… everything Luke had gifted me over the last five years. After a moment’s thought, I left them all behind. Aside from my passport, ID, and the two simple outfits I had brought with me when I first moved in, I took absolutely nothing. The matching toothbrushes, the couples’ slippers, the custom mugs… everything that tied me to him went straight into the trash. It wasn’t an act of petty anger. It just felt wrong to leave them there, mocking what we used to be. I tore out the pages of our five-year relationship journal, feeding them sheet by sheet into the paper shredder. I was never one to dwell on the past. Once I decided to move forward, I would never look back. I had just booked a hotel room and was heading for the door when the lock clicked. Luke walked in. One of his hands was wrapped tightly around Sienna’s, while the other wheeled a bright pink suitcase. The moment his eyes landed on me, he dropped Sienna’s hand as if he’d been burned. A flash of irritation crossed his face. “Why are you still awake? It’s late. Look, Sienna… she had too much to drink, and there’s no one at her place to look after her.” I didn’t look at him. I knelt down to lace up my shoes. “Oh, that works out perfectly then. I’m leaving, so she can have my spot.” Only then did Luke notice the suitcase standing beside me. He froze, then rubbed his temples in frustration, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Nora, can you please not add to the drama? Dealing with Sienna has already drained me. I’m just letting her stay the night. Is it really necessary to throw a fit and threaten to move out? What is wrong with you?” Before I could reply, Sienna raised her head from Luke’s chest, her eyes glassy with alcohol. Her gaze locked onto my slightly rounded belly, and tears welled up in her eyes. “You bitch!” she shrieked. “You’re only keeping Luke trapped because of that baby! That’s why he won’t come back to me!” Startled by her sudden mania, I frowned and took a step back. “What are you doing?” Before the words could fully leave my mouth, she lunged at me, raising her hand to strike. I reached out to grab her wrist to defend myself, but a massive hand clamped down hard on my arm, pinning me in place. Slap! My head whipped to the side, and a sharp, burning pain bloomed across my cheek. A fleeting look of regret crossed Luke’s eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Sienna’s mother just passed away, Nora. Her mental state is fragile right now. She can’t take any triggers. Just… let her get it out of her system. Bear with it for a moment, okay?” A thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. I tried to speak, but the movement stung, forcing involuntary tears to slip down my face. My hand trembled, and the folded paper containing my clinical appointment slipped from my fingers, fluttering onto the floor. Luke’s eyes darted to it, catching the words OB-GYN Clinic before I quickly snatched it back up. “So you booked your ultrasound for tomorrow?” The tension in his brow melted away, replaced by a confident chuckle. He was absolutely certain that my departure was just a childish bluff. “Look, if you really need space, go stay at a hotel for a couple of days. Send me the address and the appointment time. I’ll drive you tomorrow.” Without waiting for my response, he guided Sienna toward the master bedroom, never once looking back. The next morning, the aggressive buzzing of Luke’s phone woke him up. Friend: Damn, Luke, you’re a legend! Spending the night drinking with your ex, and now you’re up early to play the doting father at Nora’s ultrasound? Respect. Luke frowned in confusion, but before he could type a reply, another message flashed on the screen. Friend: Holy shit, dude, what is going on? Did you bring Nora here to get an abortion? The moment Luke opened the attached video, his phone slipped from his hand and crashed onto the floor. Every ounce of color drained from his face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480757”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 In my past life, I saved Finn, the golden boy of the city’s most powerful elite circle. He fell for me at first sight and married me in a lavish, heavily publicized wedding. But only after the wedding did I discover the horrifying truth. He was impotent, a twisted sadist who married me solely to conceal his dark secret from the high-society gossip columns. I was systematically tortured by him until my heart finally stopped. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the past, on the very day he brought a horde of reporters to my family’s doorstep to locate his mysterious savior. Before I could even slip away, my younger sister, Sienna, charged forward. She pointed a finger at me, shouting for everyone to hear. “Finn, don’t let her fool you! That night, Nora was partying at a club, drinking with several guys until the early hours of the morning. There’s no way she could have saved you!” “She’s trying to steal credit for my actions just so she can claw her way into your family and become your trophy wife!” I froze in utter shock, the paralyzing terror in my chest instantly dissolving into pure, unadulterated ecstasy. This was spectacular. Since I was supposedly partying that night, it meant I had never saved him. Which meant this psychopathic heir would have absolutely nothing to do with me in this lifetime. … In my past life, I had found Finn severely injured on the side of the road and rushed him to the emergency room. In his semi-conscious state, he pressed a luxury watch into my hand, telling me it was a token to find him. After he was discharged, he used the hospital records to locate me. Claiming to have fallen in love at first sight, he knelt and proposed to me in front of a crowd of reporters. I had been overjoyed to marry into such wealth, completely ignorant of his true nature. Only after the wedding did I realize he was impotent, deeply insecure, and highly unstable, taking his rage out on women behind closed doors. I died in absolute despair under his endless cruelty. Now that I was back, I only wanted to run as far away from him as possible. But before I could take a single step, Sienna blocked my path, confronting me fiercely in front of the cameras. “Nora, have you no shame?” She strode up to me, her voice dripping with venom. My heart sank, assuming she was about to expose my actual rescue of Finn. But before I could speak, she turned to Finn and threw a stack of photos onto the ground at my feet. “Finn, please don’t let her trick you! She was at a club the entire night, she never left!” I stared at the photos on the ground. They were highly realistic, showing me laughing and drinking at a crowded bar. The editing was so perfect that it was impossible to tell they were fakes, even though I had never stepped foot in a nightclub in my entire life. I frowned. “Sienna, what on earth are you talking about? I didn’t…” She cut me off with a sneer. “Stop acting! You’re just jealous that I’m the one who saved Finn. You stole the watch he gave me, trying to take my place and gold-dig your way into high society! Several people at the club saw you that night, and they’re all ready to testify!” As soon as she finished speaking, a few unfamiliar men stepped forward from the crowd, nodding in agreement. I stared at my smug little sister, a profound sense of absurdity washing over me. Was she actually saving my life, or was she just desperate to steal my misfortune? Finn watched me with a mocking, half-smile, his eyes completely cold. “Your name is Nora? You have decent looks, but did you really think you could play me by stealing Sienna’s credit? A woman like you doesn’t deserve to be my savior.” He turned to face the reporters, speaking with absolute authority. “I have personally verified that Sienna is my true savior. Her sister, Nora, is a deceitful opportunist who tried to steal her credit. She has absolutely nothing to do with me.” He then turned back to Sienna, his gaze softening into a look of deep affection as he dropped to one knee. “From the moment you saved me, I fell in love with you. Sienna, will you marry me?” Watching the two of them act out this ridiculous melodrama, my heart didn’t even skip a beat. Normally, anyone would be driven mad by such a betrayal, screaming and begging to prove their innocence. But not me. I was thrilled to let her have him, eager to sever all ties with this monster. Still, the sheer coldness of my family’s betrayal stung. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, my parents grabbed my arms, holding me back with bruising force. My father lowered his voice, his tone dripping with impatience and embarrassment. “Nora, you aren’t his savior. Stop lying to yourself. Trying to slander your sister at a time like this, have you no shame?” I wanted to say something, to give my sister one last chance to back out of this grave she was digging, but my mother yanked me away, dragging me to the very edge of the crowd. 2 Sienna stood beside Finn, her meticulously applied makeup catching the camera flashes. She looked at me like a victorious queen sneering at a beggar. “See? No one is going to listen to you,” she whispered in my ear, her voice dripping with malice. “I am the one marrying into the most powerful family in the city. Play nice and keep your mouth shut, or I’ll make sure you can’t survive in this town.” Ah, so she truly believed I had hit the jackpot in my last life and wanted to snatch my fortune. Well, who was I to deny her? The sheer joy bubbling up inside me was almost impossible to contain, but I forced my head down, hiding the massive grin threatening to split my face. When I finally looked up, I forced a look of desperate, wild fury onto my face. “This is a setup! Sienna, you claim I was throwing myself at men in a club that night instead of saving him? Where is your proof?” My face was flushed, and I trembled with theatrical rage. Sienna glanced at the media, a smug grin playing on her lips. “Proof? I have eyewitnesses.” The reporters and onlookers pressed closer, trapping me in the center. Two heavily styled strangers stepped out from the crowd, immediately grabbing my arms with dramatic distress. “Nora, you can’t just pretend we don’t exist!” I shoved them off. “I don’t even know who you are! Stop lying!” The two immediately burst into tears for the cameras. “How can you be so heartless? We spent the entire night together in that VIP booth. We did everything there is to do, and now you’re acting like we’re strangers!” Whispers broke out among the onlookers. “She looks so innocent, but she’s actually so wild.” “No wonder she tried to steal her sister’s fiancé. She’s just a social climber.” I took a deep breath, feigning desperate defense. “I drove Finn to the hospital myself that night. The security cameras must have caught my face. How could I have been at a club?” Sienna let out a soft laugh. “Oh, didn’t you know? The hospital’s security footage from that night has been completely erased.” “That’s impossible! Medical records are kept for years.” “If you don’t believe me, call them yourself,” Sienna challenged, crossing her arms. I quickly dialed the hospital’s reception, my voice shaking with realistic panic. “Hello, could you please check the security footage from a week ago?” “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’ve had a massive system crash. All of our video archives from the past month have been completely wiped.” My fingers grew cold, but I pressed on. “What about the physical paperwork? There must be a registration sheet with my signature on it.” There was a brief pause on the line. “I’m so sorry, but there was a localized electrical fire in our records department a few days ago. The physical charts were destroyed.” As I hung up, Sienna’s smile widened. “See? No signatures, no footage. You have nothing.” “Even if the records are gone, the attending doctors and nurses can testify for me!” Sienna clapped her hands in mock amusement, signaling her assistant to bring out several documents. “Oh, I forgot to mention. The medical team you’re talking about? They’ve all resigned and left the city.” 3 Sienna let out a theatrical sigh. I turned my gaze toward my parents, the people I should have been able to trust most. They quickly looked away, unable to meet my eyes. Beautiful. Just beautiful. It wasn’t just my sister. Even my parents were in on the plot. I clenched my fists, letting my fingernails dig into my palms. Everything was too perfect. Every step calculated, every detail engineered to leave me absolutely no way out. The two hired actors stepped close again, trying to grab my shoulders. “Nora, just admit it…” “Get away from me!” I snapped, my voice sharp enough to silence the room. The two jumped back in surprise, and Sienna’s smile faltered for a second. I scanned the crowd until I found a familiar face. “Penny, come here.” Penny was my closest friend. Since the day we met, we had been inseparable. I had defended her from bullies, bailed her out of trouble, and supported her through every low point in her life. But I hadn’t missed the guilty glance she exchanged with Sienna earlier. She slowly walked over, her chin pressed against her chest, utterly refusing to look me in the eye. Sienna smirked. “Go ahead, Penny. Tell everyone where Nora was that night. Did she save Finn?” Penny kept her eyes on the floor, her voice quiet but clear. “Nora didn’t save anyone. She was at the club with us the entire night. I watched her walk into the club myself. She was nowhere near the alley where Finn collapsed. This entire savior story is a complete lie she made up.” The crowd erupted into furious whispers. I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Penny, I treated you like a sister for years. Is this how you pay me back?” She finally looked up, her eyes rimmed with red, though her words remained sharp. “Nora, I just can’t lie for you anymore. Sienna is the one who saved Finn. I can’t let you keep deceiving everyone.” Sienna patted her shoulder consolingly. “Thank you for telling the truth, Penny.” I looked at the two of them, shaking my head. “Betraying me for a payout… you people really have no shame. You, and you, and every single person standing here, remember this day.” None of them cared. Penny looked relieved that her part was done, while Sienna stepped forward, her eyes locked on my hand. “Stop stalling and give me the watch you stole from me.” I squeezed the luxury watch in my hand, my knuckles turning white. It was the token Finn had forced on me, and now they were fighting like dogs over it. Sienna sneered. “Cut the crap and hand it over!” With tears stinging my eyes and a look of utter defeat, I threw the watch onto the gravel before her. Sienna snatched it up immediately, cradling it like a treasure. I turned around and began walking away. Sienna jeered behind me, her voice dripping with triumph. “You’re nothing after all, Nora!” I paused, slowly turning my head to give her one last cold, penetrating look. “You have no idea what kind of monster you’ve just bought. When you finally see his true face, don’t regret it. And don’t you dare come begging for my help.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480756”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I opened my eyes again, my daughter was standing in the doorway, once more holding hands with her bleached-blonde street-punk boyfriend. They looked incredibly nervous, guilt practically oozing from their pores as they asked if I would bless their relationship. I smiled faintly and looked at my future son-in-law. “I’ll agree, but on one condition.” He swallowed hard, looking suspicious. “What condition?” I pointed to the massive stack of college prep exams on the coffee table. “Get yourself into a top-tier university, and I’ll personally pay for your wedding.” What? Both my daughter and her boyfriend stood there, completely dumbfounded. A year later, he got accepted into the Military Academy at West Point. Everyone in town thought I’d struck gold. I couldn’t agree more. After all, in my previous life, this was the very man who started with nothing but manual labor and built a multi-million-dollar business empire from scratch. 1 My boy-crazy daughter, Kaitlin, had brought her bleached-blonde boyfriend back home again. The two teenagers stood side by side in the entryway, looking so incredibly tense they didn’t even know what to do with their hands. Kaitlin forced a weak smile, keeping her head low. Her eyes were red-rimmed and filled with silent pleading. The boy beside her had a messy crop of dyed-yellow hair, wore a simple oversized hoodie, and had a collection of cheap chain earrings dangling from his lobes. He was barely eighteen, his face still holding the soft edges of youth. But standing before me, he looked utterly terrified and guilt-ridden. My daughter, who had caused me nothing but sleepless nights, finally found her voice. “Mom, we love each other. Please, just let us be together. I’m begging you.” She rubbed her hands together, her voice trembling as she poured her heart out. In my past life, the moment those words left her mouth, I had slapped her hard across the face. Any parent who had worked themselves to the bone to raise an Ivy League-bound daughter only to have her bring home a street punk within her first year of college would have lost their mind. Back then, I let anger consume me. I forced them apart with ruthless efficiency. But later, when I was set up and ruined by rivals, bankrupt and abandoned by every friend and relative I had ever known, it was this very punk who rode up on a rusty delivery tricycle to take my daughter and me in. He used his bare hands, working brutal shifts hauling bricks, to carry our entire family on his back. Eventually, he built a publicly traded empire from the ground up. Unfortunately, he had treated his body like garbage during his youth. As he aged, the physical toll caught up with him, and he left Kaitlin and me far too soon. Now that I had been given a second chance, I had no intention of repeating my mistakes, nor would I let him work himself to an early grave. But I couldn’t play the saint too easily either. If I didn’t set some boundaries for these two at their age, I’d end up with a grandchild running around years ahead of schedule. I cleared my throat, looking at the frozen, terrified couple, and spoke slowly. “How exactly do you plan on supporting my daughter?” The second the words left my mouth, Kaitlin scrambled to answer. “Mom, I won’t buy expensive bags anymore. No designer clothes, either. I’ll get a job early to help support us…” I rolled my eyes. Even in this life, I still felt that slap from my previous life had been thoroughly deserved. “So, Austin, right?” I looked past her. “Do you think it’s fair to let my daughter sacrifice her future like that for you?” Austin, the bleached-blonde kid, shook his head frantically. “No! I want her to finish her education. I’ll work two… no, three jobs if I have to. I swear I won’t let her quality of life drop because of me.” Looking into his eyes, I knew he meant it. He was entirely capable of doing just that. But this time, I wasn’t going to let him ruin his health. “I will allow the two of you to date,” I said calmly, “but on three conditions.” 2 Kaitlin and Austin snapped their heads up, their eyes lighting up like stars. They stared at me in absolute disbelief, the heavy dread on their faces instantly vanishing. “Mrs. Smart,” Austin stammered, “what are the conditions? I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it kills me.” I pointed to the thick stack of prep materials and college entrance exams I had prepared beforehand, sliding them across the coffee table. “First, I am sending you back to school, Austin. If you can get into a university on your own merit, I won’t just consent to your relationship; I will personally fund and host your wedding the moment you graduate.” The two teenagers stared at the books, completely stunned. Kaitlin’s joyful expression froze. She looked blankly at the massive pile of study guides. Austin’s face flushed a deep red. Kaitlin, suddenly defensive, snapped, “Mom, are you trying to humiliate him? Austin had to drop out because his family couldn’t afford tuition! Aren’t you just setting him up to fail?” “Your love-blind brain is officially useless, Kaitlin. Listen to me carefully,” I said, my voice sharp. “I am paying for his schooling. I will cover every single cent. But if he fails to get in, he packs his bags and gets out of our lives.” Kaitlin went quiet, turning to Austin with a worried, questioning look. Austin’s eyes were bloodshot. Anyone who didn’t know him would think he was seething with anger over the perceived insult. But I knew him, and I remained entirely unbothered. Then, with a heavy thud, Austin dropped straight to his knees on the hardwood floor. “Mrs. Smart… I’ll do it. I’ll go back to school. I actually loved studying, but my family refused to support me, so I had to quit. I promise you, I will get into a university and make you proud.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead firmly against the floor, a loud knock echoing through the room. That had to hurt. In my previous life, I remembered seeing him steal whatever spare moments he had to read and study. Kaitlin had told me how deeply he regretted never going to college, but he’d never had the luxury of time. In this life, I was going to hand him that opportunity. 3 I waved him up dismissively. “Second, absolutely no intimacy until you both turn twenty-one.” The moment the words left my mouth, the two deeply-in-love teenagers flushed so red they looked like ripe tomatoes. I rolled my eyes. At least they were still sweet and innocent. “What? Do we have a problem with that?” “No problem!” “I agree!” They answered in unison. I nodded and moved on to my final demand. “Third, I run this house. You both listen to me. If any of your toxic relatives come knocking, you do not interfere with how I handle them. No matter what.” Austin clenched his fists, remaining silent. But Kaitlin’s protective instincts flared up again. “Mom, they’re still family…” So she knew just how awful his extended family could be. I slammed my hand onto the table and stood up. “Those are my three conditions. Disagree with even one of them, and you can both pack up and get out of my house. And Kaitlin, if you walk out that door, you are no longer my daughter.” Kaitlin’s eyes welled with tears, and she sank to her knees. I knew that despite her foolishness in love, she had ultimately chosen to stay home and finish her degree in our past life, eventually securing a stable job. “Kaitlin, get up,” Austin said, gently pulling her arm. “Those people don’t deserve to be called family. Mrs. Smart is right. I need to cut ties with them anyway.” He wiped his eyes and looked up at me, still kneeling. “I accept all three conditions.” I stood up and gestured toward the hallway. “Come on out.” Four middle-aged professionals stepped into the living room. I turned to Austin and introduced them. “These are your private tutors. Starting today, before you even set foot in a classroom, you will be cramming the entire high school curriculum. Do we have a deal?” Austin stared at the imposing lineup of educators, swallowed hard, and gave a tight nod. “Mr. Austin, please follow us upstairs. Our first session begins right now,” one of the tutors said smoothly. Before the boy could even process what was happening, two tutors took him by the arms and politely marched him up the stairs. Kaitlin turned to me, trembling. “Mom, be honest with me. Are you doing all this just to drive him away? He’s a street kid. How is he supposed to sit still and study like this? If you’re just trying to torture him, it would be kinder to let him leave now.” 4 Looking at my daughter’s tearful, anxious face, I felt a sudden, powerful urge to shake some sense into her. I clenched my fists to keep myself in check, silently chanting: I gave birth to her, I gave birth to her, I gave birth to her. Taking a deep breath, I said coldly, “I have no intention of driving him away. But if he can’t even handle this, he has no business standing by your side.” Kaitlin bit her lip. “But what if he can’t keep up?” “Then he’ll have to work harder. Didn’t he say he’d give his life for you? Let him prove it. You focus on your own classes, and if you keep whining, I will make you choose between us right now.” Kaitlin flinched. She was terrified of being forced to make that choice. Austin was a resilient boy at heart. The only reason he had turned into a rough-around-the-edges street kid was sheer, desperate poverty. He hadn’t lacked guidance; he had lacked resources. His parents had passed away early, and the grandparents who raised him were gone too. If he hadn’t put on a tough, punk persona, he probably would have starved to death, let alone had a chance to study. The four tutors I hired were all senior instructors from the city’s top college prep academy. They were fully capable of dragging his neglected education back on track. Once I saw that Austin had adjusted to the grueling study schedule, I used my connections to enroll him as a transfer student in the honors program at the local high school. On his first day, he looked clean-cut and sharp in a simple casual outfit. I didn’t force him to dye his hair back immediately; the focus needed to remain on his studies, not his style. I figured that with the intensive tutoring he’d received, he would be fine as long as he kept his head down. Meanwhile, I threw myself entirely into my business, determined to scale operations. With the hindsight of my previous life, solving complex corporate strategies felt like second nature. Just as I signed a million-dollar contract, my phone rang. It was the high school. “Are you Austin’s guardian? He got into a violent altercation at school. Three students are injured. Frankly, I don’t want a troubled kid like him in my honors class. You need to come in and transfer him out.” I smiled. “Sure. But in that case, please make sure none of your honors students use the new school library, considering my company funded its construction.” The line went dead silent. After a flurry of hurried apologies, the homeroom teacher quietly hung up. I grabbed my purse, wearing a bold crimson dress as if marching onto a battlefield. When I arrived, I found Austin standing outside the main office, looking defiant. His face was bruised, and his knuckles were badly scraped. The moment he saw me, his shoulders slumped, and he looked down. “Mrs. Smart…” I waved him off. “Don’t say a word. Let me go in and see what’s going on. Brooks,” I turned to my assistant, “go pull the security footage from the hallway.” While school security cameras weren’t as advanced back then, this particular academy had recently installed a state-of-the-art surveillance system.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480755”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During the most vibrant years of my youth, I spent three years wrapping Beckett around my finger, or rather, letting him wrap me around his. Honestly, he was gorgeous, incredible in bed, and built like a god. So when he finally called it quits, I cried like my world was ending. “Babe, can we still kiss after we break up? If I call you over to hook up, will you still come?” Beckett sneered. “Is it really just me you can’t live without?” My eyes pooled with tears. “Babe, I love you!” But after getting dumped that day, I walked away crying, clutching a five-million-dollar parting gift. That same night, someone filmed me at a club and sent the video straight to Beckett. In the video, I had my arms around six male models, my voice dripping with disdain: “Beckett? Who’d actually like him with that trash attitude? I was only in it for his body.” A second later, my phone exploded with calls from him. “Ordering male models the second we break up? You’ve got some nerve. Playing with my feelings? You must have a death wish.” “I’ll be there in ten minutes. You better pray you can run fast enough.” 1 Hearing the word “breakup,” my nose tickled, and the tears started falling. No one knew how good I had it during those three years with Beckett. “Do we really have to?” Beckett was shirtless, leaning against the headboard, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. “Yeah.” Maybe because of the storm we’d just weathered in bed, his voice was still low and raspy. I crouched on the floor, sobbing dramatically. Beckett knit his handsome brow. “Don’t cry. I can compensate you. Is five million enough?” I kept sobbing, unable to stop. “I don’t want your money. I want your love.” My hand drifted over his abs, my fingers tracing the sharp lines before swirling over his skin. “Babe, can we still kiss? If I text you for a late-night hookup, will you still show up?” Beckett stared at me, his gaze dark and unreadable. After a long silence, a dry chuckle escaped his throat. “Is it really just me you can’t live without?” I looked up at just the right moment, my eyes wide, wet, and utterly innocent. “Babe, I love you…” But contrary to what I expected, Beckett didn’t soften. He coldly pulled my hand away. “How much?” “So much I can’t breathe.” “Then put my face and body aside. What do you actually like about me?” I froze. I looked up and met his sharp, piercing gaze. A sudden wave of guilt washed over me, rendering all my usual sweet-talk useless. Honestly, I couldn’t bring myself to lie to a man. I stammered, “I… I can’t put them aside…” Beckett was famous for his terrible temper. Combined with his wealthy family background, he was arrogant and reckless with everyone. But he was just too damn good-looking. At first, half the girls at our university were head over heels for him. But his sharp tongue and volatile moods quickly sent them running. Back then, no one expected that a completely ordinary girl like me would be the one to tame him. For a while, rumors flew about how incredibly calculating I must be. In reality, there was no master plan. My goal had been crystal clear from the moment I laid eyes on him: I wanted him in my bed. When you’re doing something bad, you don’t get tired. So, of course, I could tolerate all his flaws. His petulance and sensitivity actually felt endearing to me. I wanted to know about his childhood, his past pains, and his joys. I secretly listened to his favorite songs, quietly noting down every hobby and habit he casually mentioned. I tracked his star sign, his favorite flowers, watched the movies he loved, and took screenshots of everything related to him. I loved him, including his fragility and his dark sides. Day after day, under my relentless campaign of affection, Beckett finally cracked. To the point where, one night, when I casually asked, “By the way, are you big down there?” Beckett didn’t get angry. Instead, his ears turned red as he grabbed my wrist: “Are you coming back to my place tonight to keep listening to me talk about my dysfunctional family?” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. “You can talk forever. I’m always listening.” … Now, hearing my honest answer, Beckett fell silent. He stubbed out his cigarette, looking down at our clothes scattered across the floor. Finally, he looked up, a bitter smile playing on his lips. “Three years together, and there isn’t a single thing about my personality that attracts you?” “There is,” I said, my face flushing under his intense gaze. “It’s just… you’re really sweet when you want to be.” 2 I had to admit, Beckett changed his mood faster than he took off his clothes. After I said that, he got furious for some reason. He shoved a credit card into my hand and kicked me out. “There’s five million on this. Don’t ever look for me again.” The door slammed shut. Beckett always had a bad temper. Even though he’d thrown fits and told me to leave before, this time felt different. Not for him, but for me. Maybe I was just getting older, running out of energy. I felt a deep, heavy exhaustion. Outside, a light drizzle was falling. I opened my ride-sharing app, but the wait times were insane. Steeling my resolve, I decided to walk back in the rain. The moment my foot hit the wet pavement, a large black umbrella bloomed over my head. My heart skipped a beat. I spun around. “Beckett?!” Instead, I was met with his assistant’s blank face. He made a polite gesture toward a waiting car. “The young master said you walk too slow. He doesn’t want to see you around, so he ordered me to get you out of here as fast as possible.” My throat tightened. “Oh.” I looked up at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. Catching my gaze, a shadow flitted behind the glass and vanished. The assistant was true to his word. Smooth and fast, he dropped me off in ten minutes. My best friend, Roxy, blinked in shock when she saw me. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Beckett?” My chest felt heavy, like wet cotton pressing down on my lungs. I took a deep breath, forcing a smile, and flashed the card. “We broke up. And he gave me a massive severance package.” “Come on, babe. Let’s go spend some money.” Roxy reached out and gently touched my face. She looked like she wanted to say something, but stayed quiet. I knew she felt bad for me, but when it came to love, you just had to let things go. That night, I dragged her to a club known for having the best-looking guys in the city. “The fastest way to get over an old flame is to find a new one.” “Who cares about Beckett? We’re here for a good time, not a long time!” We hadn’t even been seated long before we ran into a bunch of familiar faces. A group of trust-fund babies sat in the VIP booth next to ours. Most of them were from Beckett’s social circle. Throughout our three-year relationship, they had been the most vocal skeptics. With Beckett around, no one dared to say anything to my face. But now, they wasted no time crowding around me with smirks. “Well, if it isn’t Paige, the ultimate clinger!” “What are you doing drinking here? Did Beckett finally throw you out?” “Did you really think you could secure the bag? He was just using you for a good time.” “If she hadn’t spent every day groveling at his feet, Beckett wouldn’t have looked at her twice.” The air grew thick with their snide remarks and laughter. Roxy, who had already had a few drinks too many, didn’t hesitate. She slammed her glass down and stepped right up to them. “Did you guys forget to brush your teeth tonight? Your breath smells like pure trash!” “Calling her a clinger? You’d crawl through broken glass to get Beckett’s attention, but he wouldn’t even look in your direction!” “And besides, Beckett is nothing. Paige is the one who dumped him!” I pulled her back, looking coldly at the crowd. “If you’re so upset on Beckett’s behalf, why don’t you go tell him?” The ringleader of the group stiffened, his smug grin faltering. Once, someone had actually dared to talk trash about me to Beckett. Beckett had beaten him so badly the guy ended up in the hospital. Since then, no one dared to cross him. “What are you acting so smug for? You think he’s still going to protect you?” I ignored his provocation, turning my attention to the tablet the host had handed me, scrolling through the profiles of the hosts. Once I had selected six male models of completely different styles, I looked up. “Why don’t you try me and find out?” Borrowing Beckett’s terrifying reputation was incredibly effective. We had broken up and gotten back together countless times. They couldn’t be sure if this was just another one of our dramatic spats. 3 The trust-fund babies scattered quickly, terrified of offending Beckett. Six handsome models crowded around Roxy and me, calling us “gorgeous” in sweet, honeyed voices. We each had three of them draped over us, laughing. One fed me fruit; another poured my drink. One, wearing a sheer white shirt, was dancing right in front of us. Sweat and alcohol clung to the fabric, highlighting his perfectly sculpted muscles. I suddenly realized that spending three years obsessing over Beckett had been a colossal waste of time. So when Roxy, still angry, started venting and cursing Beckett, I joined right in. “Beckett? Who’d actually like him with that trash attitude? I was only in it for his body.” The more I drank, the more animated I became. “My love for him was real, but he’s not the only fish in the sea.” “Beckett’s hot, amazing in bed, great body, but I’m bored of him now.” “Hey, Roxy, look at one o’clock. I think I just spotted my dream guy.” “He’s easily as hot as Beckett. Should I go talk to him?” Before Roxy could answer, her expression went dead serious. She picked up my buzzing phone and held it in front of my face. Someone had filmed me touching a model’s abs and saying those exact words, and they had sent it straight to Beckett. He was calling me repeatedly. The messages kept popping up on the screen: Paige, stop playing dead. Answer the phone! Unbelievable. So everything you said about loving me was a lie? Hiring models the second we break up? You’ve got some nerve. Playing with my feelings? You must have a death wish. I’ll be there in ten minutes. You better pray you can run fast enough. I was completely wasted. I squinted at the screen for a long time before finally grasping the words, then casually turned the phone off. Roxy’s eyes went wide. “Are you crazy? He’s going to lose his mind!” “Let him.” “Should… shouldn’t we run? If Beckett catches you, he’s going to kill you.” I giggled, my brain completely foggy. “Kill me how? We already broke up. What’s he going to do, double-dump me?” … The most entertaining dynamic in the world is definitely a toxic ex-boyfriend who hasn’t fully let go. Especially since Beckett was entirely my type. As long as he didn’t find someone else, hooking up with him occasionally after the breakup didn’t sound like a bad plan. Ignoring Roxy’s exasperated look, my eyes caught onto something across the room, and I practically floated over to it. Instantly, the scent of expensive blue cologne mixed with raw male hormones filled my senses. The guy standing there looked about fifty percent like Beckett. But his hair was styled in soft, messy curls, his lips were pink, and he looked incredibly sweet and innocent. He was the complete opposite of Beckett’s wild, arrogant vibe. “Remember me?” I purred. The handsome stranger looked a bit startled, studying my face closely. “I’m sorry, I just got back to the country. My memory’s a bit rusty. Who are you?” “Don’t you remember? When we were kids, you played at your house, and I played at mine. We’ve been strangers since childhood.” He stared at me for a second, then burst into a warm, genuine laugh. I suppressed a smirk. If I could tame a wild beast like Beckett, a cute little puppy like this was child’s play. “It’s fine if we didn’t know each other back then. How about we get to know each other now?” I winked, slipping a shot glass into his hand before tossing my own back. He hesitated for a moment before drinking his. “Aren’t you moving a bit fast? Aren’t you afraid I might be a bad guy?” “What kind of bad guy? A handsome distraction?” “No, a guy who might take advantage of a beautiful girl.” “Well, I’m already dizzy from how gorgeous you are, so feel free to try.” He laughed, his sharp little canine teeth showing. He looked clever and cute, a classic puppy-dog type. After dealing with a wild wolf for so long, a sweet, slightly mischievous dog felt like a breath of fresh air. 4 His ears flushed red under my direct gaze. “Is this what they call flirting with the innocent?” I leaned slightly against the bar table, resting my chin on my hand, looking up at him with a hazy, bedroom gaze. “Flirting? I just thought my ability to read a guy’s subtle emotions was a gift from above.” “Oh? And what did you read?” My fingertips brushed over his palm, and he suddenly gripped them. “I read that you have a lot you want to say to me. And that my gift only works when I’m with you.” He gently played with my fingertips. “You’re the most interesting girl I’ve ever met.” “I’m not just interesting, I’m a great listener,” I said, suddenly pulling my hand back. “So, I’m ready to listen to all about your childhood traumas and your lonely past.” He looked at his empty palm, amused. “My childhood?” I lightly grabbed his collar and pulled. Caught off guard, he leaned forward, his chin brushing against the crook of my neck. The fresh, woody scent of his cologne washed over me. I leaned close to his ear, my warm breath tickling his neck. “But you know what we’re doing after you finish talking.” I pulled back slightly, watching his Adam’s apple bob. Just as I was about to say something even more shameless, a strong hand violently ripped me away. Beckett stood there, his face dark and his eyes completely bloodshot.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480754”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When my daughter turned six, I started forcing her to do household chores. I recorded everything on camera. She wasn’t even as tall as the kitchen counter. Standing on a little toddler stepping stool, she struggled and fumbled, failing over and over again. Frustrated to the point of tears, she threw tantrums, begging me to let her stop. But I just stared at her with deadpan calm, ordering her to keep going. The internet tore me apart. Keyboard warriors called me a clout-chaser, accusing me of abusing my kid for views. Some even questioned if I was her real mother. That was until six months later, when a video of me finally stepping in front of the lens went viral. It was my digital suicide note, left solely for my little girl. In the video, I smiled at the camera. “When I’m gone, let these videos keep you company.” “Whenever you miss Mom, just come here and take a look.” 1 After the cancer diagnosis, the only thing tethering my soul to this earth was my daughter, Lily. She was only six. Tiny, soft, with a little bob and blunt bangs. Absolutely precious. Everyone in the family spoiled her rotten. But she was naturally introverted. Timid, even. Whether she wanted a toy or felt wronged, she never had the guts to speak up. I always had to notice her quiet pouting and gently coax the words out of her. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be a big deal. Kids grow out of it. She would have been fine. But the doctor told me I had six months left. At most. I didn’t have the luxury of waiting for her to grow up. The sweeter and more obedient she was, the more my heart felt like it was being fed through a meat grinder. I was terrified that without a mother, she would become a target for playground bullies. I was terrified she wouldn’t be cared for, or worse, neglected. My husband and my in-laws loved her, sure, but they were oblivious. They missed the subtle cues. They wouldn’t know how to navigate the delicate maze of a little girl’s heart. And if my husband eventually remarried, Lily’s position in the house would become painfully awkward. I spent countless sleepless nights agonizing over this until I made four rules for myself. One: In the limited time I had left, I would teach her how to survive independently. Two: Record as many videos as possible, answering every question she might ever have about life. Three: Leave her a safety net of money. Four: Write her one letter for every birthday until she turns eighteen. The plan was simple on paper. Executing it was pure agony. She was six. The concept of death was totally alien to her. All she would know is that one day, her mom vanished. She would never see me again. I would never hold her again. “I will be the biggest trauma of her childhood.” That thought physically suffocated me. It hurt far worse than the terminal diagnosis itself. 2 I opened a trust fund for Lily. I dumped every single penny of my life savings into it. Locked for ten years. By the time she turned sixteen, she would have total financial control over it. The house we lived in was already transferred to her name. When she grew up, she could sell it or live in it. Her choice. With the legalities out of the way, I pulled Lily out of all her after-school ballet and piano classes. The second the school bell rang, I took her out. Parks, amusement rides, indoor trampoline gyms. The kind of joy she used to have to earn through good grades was now served to her daily on a silver platter. While she played, I constantly adjusted the angle of my mirrorless camera, capturing every second. She was breathtakingly cute. Long lashes framing big, bright eyes, and those chubby, soft cheeks. Whenever she looked at me, I melted. Kids naturally gravitated toward her. But sometimes, the rowdier kids would relentlessly pinch her cheeks or snatch her toys. Even though I could tell she hated it, she stayed polite. The most she would do was hide behind a slide. Watching this from the sidelines made my stomach tie into knots. The very next day, the aimless fun stopped. I signed her up for a youth mixed martial arts and self-defense class. Combat sports are grueling. I had never once envisioned my sweet girl throwing punches. But if I wasn’t going to be around to teach her how to say no to boys in high school, she at least needed the physical ability to protect herself. The result? Lily spent two days just doing basic planking and combat stances. Before the real lessons even began, she broke down. Tears streamed down her face as she wailed that she was too tired and wanted to quit. I hardened my heart. I coldly refused her, forcing her to push through the burn. Feeling utterly betrayed, she threw a massive tantrum. I edited the footage and uploaded it to a brand-new social media account. I never expected the tsunami of vitriol that followed. [Throwing a little kid on the internet like this? This mom is sick in the head!] [The kid clearly hates it. The parents are forcing her just for clout. You don’t deserve to be a mother!] [At an age where she should be reading, she’s goofing off and making TikToks? Trash parenting.] [Selling out your own flesh and blood for likes. Disgusting.] 3 Before I hit upload, I reviewed the footage a dozen times to make sure it wouldn’t expose her to any real danger. But honestly, I understood the backlash. Because a few months ago, I was exactly like them. Grades above all else. As long as I was there to be her umbrella, she only needed to be a happy, innocent little girl. But my umbrella was breaking. In the wild, a mother wolf teaches her cub how to hunt before the winter comes. In my rapidly vanishing timeline, I needed to drill the most brutal, vital life lessons into her skull. And in the grand scheme of survival, getting an A in spelling was completely useless. I didn’t want her to be obedient. I didn’t want her to be sweet or well-mannered. I needed her to be brave. Resilient. Unbreakable. Without a mom, she had to learn how to fight, how to grab what was hers. She needed to become an apex predator to survive this vicious world. Besides MMA, I had to teach her how to cook. Food is survival. No matter how dark life gets, you have to feed yourself. You have to keep your body alive. Lily was barely taller than the stove. I bought her a heavy-duty toddler step stool. With every movement of the spatula, she would look back at me, her big eyes seeking permission. Only after I nodded encouragingly would she continue. Watching her tiny, tense frame gripping a kitchen knife on that stool. Thinking about all the massive, terrifying obstacles she would have to face alone in the future. It felt like someone was dragging a razor blade across my chest. If I had a choice, I would never rob her of her childhood. But fate didn’t give a damn about my choices. I had to be the villain. If the martial arts video sparked debates about parenting, the cooking video sparked a witch hunt. The comment section was a bloodbath. [Is this bitch pregnant with her second kid? Training the older sister to be a free nanny?] [If you can’t afford to raise them, don’t breed! Making a six-year-old cook? Are all the adults in that house dead?] 4 [I was forced to cook and do laundry for my whole family when I was her age. Trust me, what she posts is just the tip of the iceberg. Behind closed doors, it’s slave labor.] [Having a daughter is great, right? Free live-in maid.] [In the last video, the kid was happy she didn’t have to go to piano class. So she pulled her out of real education just to make her cook. Sick.] [This gives me the creeps.] [Some people really shouldn’t breed.] The video blew up. The account gained over a hundred thousand hate-followers in a week. My DMs were flooded with death threats. It got so big that even my own parents saw it. My mom called me, her voice laced with concern. “Are you and your husband just too overwhelmed with work? “Let Mom come over and take care of her, okay? Stop making the baby cook. “And she needs her extracurriculars. Kids these days are so competitive. You can’t let her fall behind.” Mothers will always ache for their daughters. Even though I was thirty-five and practically standing in my own grave. She still treated me like a child. The guilt made my throat tighten. I had never properly repaid her for raising me, and we used to bicker all the time. I was such a terrible daughter. “I just pushed her too hard before, Mom. I want her to breathe a little,” I lied smoothly. “Having a happy childhood matters too.” My words unexpectedly struck a nerve. My mom sighed, clearly thinking about my own childhood. “You’re right. Your dad and I were always working. We left you home alone every weekend. “And then we made you help raise your little brother. “We really failed you back then.” Parents always feel like they owe their kids. Like they never gave enough. My eyes burned. I felt a crushing weight of sorrow for my parents. Noticing my silence, my mom gently probed, “How about I come visit you guys in a couple of days?” Panic spiked through my veins. If she came, she would see the sickness radiating off me. She would know I was dying. 5 My mom was incredibly perceptive. If I said no, she would instantly know something was wrong. I forced a bubbly tone and agreed immediately. The second I hung up, my anxiety skyrocketed. I started pacing, trying to figure out how to hide my decaying body. It had been a week since the diagnosis. I hadn’t breathed a word to anyone. Not even my husband. Noah only found out I canceled Lily’s classes because he saw the videos. Coming home late from another grueling shift, he carefully chose his words. “Are we trying to turn our daughter into an influencer?” I shook my head. He looked even more confused. “Then why the sudden drop from ballet? “And taking her to the theme parks every day?” I thought he was mad. Before I could explain, his tone shifted into a whiny pout. “And you went without me! I wanted to go on the rollercoasters too. “Why do you only love her and not me?” A startled laugh ripped out of me, followed by a rush of tears. Ten years together. When we met, we were reckless, wild, and bursting with life. Now, he was grounded, steady, a real man. We had become the adults we always dreamed of being. And the way he looked at me hadn’t changed since college. I was still so madly in love with him. But this love only had a six-month expiration date. Looking at his face, all my walls crumbled. The tears wouldn’t stop. I had to tell him the truth. “Noah… I’m dying.” He froze. Just stood there, completely hollowed out. 6 At first, he thought it was a sick joke. But seeing the absolute despair in my tears, the certainty drained from his face. Muscle memory took over. He pulled me into his chest. He patted my back, slow and rhythmic, like he was soothing a nightmare. He waited until my shaking subsided before he found his voice. “No you’re not,” he whispered fiercely. “I’m right here. “I won’t let anything happen to you. “You’re just feeling sick, right? Then we’ll get you healthy. “Don’t worry about work, the mortgage, the kid. I’ve got it all.” His voice cracked. He was fighting back a sob. “Whatever it is, we fight it. We don’t give up. Deal?” I started crying all over again. Not out of self-pity. But because the thought of leaving him behind was tearing me to shreds. “It’s no use, Noah. It’s lung cancer,” I gasped against his shirt. “Stage four.” 7 Noah’s arms clamped around me like a vice. Like he was trying to physically fuse our bodies together so death couldn’t pull me away. A raw, choked sound escaped his throat. His voice was completely destroyed by shock and terror. “How is that even possible?” He was asking the exact question that had been haunting me. Why me? Why did this shadow have to fall over our perfect little house? “You’re young. You don’t smoke, you don’t drink. Why… how could it be lung cancer?” But his refusal to accept it was stronger than mine. “Don’t be scared, baby. Look at me. Don’t be scared. “I’ll call my frat brothers in med school. I’ll ask my boss. I’ll find the best oncologists on the planet. “We are going to beat this.” When the doctor handed me the papers, I had the same fleeting hope. But lung cancer is a silent killer. By the time you feel the symptoms, it’s already too late. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the whole truth. That the cancer cells had already metastasized to my sternum. That every single breath I took felt like crushed glass in my lungs. So I just nodded against his chest. “Okay. I won’t give up. We’ll fight.” But deep down, I knew we were just burning money and time. I reached up and gently traced the lines of Noah’s face. It was a habit from our dating years. Whenever my heart ached for him, or when I wanted to coax a smile out of him. I would nestle into his arms and map out his features with my fingertips. Usually, when I did this, even if we were mid-argument, he would inevitably break into a grin. He would catch my hand, tell me it tickled, and joke that I was taking advantage of him. But this time, he didn’t laugh. Hot, heavy tears spilled over my knuckles. 8 “Noah,” I whispered, my heart shattering. “I’m going to have to put you through hell.” He was going to have to drag me to hospitals. He was going to have to lie to our parents. He was going to have to juggle a demanding job and a terrified daughter. And later… after I was put in the ground. He was going to have to figure out how to keep living. Without me. I wanted him to forget me. To move on. To find someone new and start over. I wrote all of this down in a letter. I didn’t say it to his face. Because I knew I would choke on the words. Every time I thought about it, I wanted to scream. And in these final days, I refused to leave him with nothing but memories of my tears and bitterness. I wanted to be radiant. So that years from now, when my face crossed his mind, he would remember me smiling. I used to hate wearing makeup. Now, I painted my face every single morning. Just to cover the gray, dying tint of my skin. Noah practically went manic. He scoured the country for clinical trials, booked consultations with specialists, and stayed up until 3 AM reading medical journals. Every time he found a sliver of new information, he’d rush to tell me, his eyes wide with desperate hope. He refused to let a single door close. I played my part. I nodded enthusiastically, pretending I believed the treatments would work. Giving him a reason to keep breathing. We were both putting on the performance of a lifetime to keep the family in the dark. But paper can’t wrap a fire forever. Noah’s mom was the first to notice the cracks. 9 My in-laws were both retired teachers, so they had a lot of free time. Since they lived in the same subdivision, they dropped by constantly. My mother-in-law was a wizard in the kitchen. Her roast lamb was legendary. So tender, completely free of that gamey smell. It was our family’s favorite. One afternoon, she showed up with premium lamb chops fresh from the butcher. She was excitedly talking about making a hearty stew. But the moment she walked through the door and looked at me, her warm smile froze. Her eyes scanned my face like a scanner. “Sarah,” she asked, her voice tight with sudden dread. “Tell me the truth. Did something happen?” “What do you mean, Mom?” I forced a bright laugh. She grabbed my hands, staring dead into my eyes. Her own eyes rapidly filled with tears. “Why have you lost so much weight?” My mind went blank. She was a deeply kind woman who treated me like her own flesh and blood. If I told her my body was rotting from the inside out, it would break her. “Mom, I’m sorry,” I choked out, pivoting to an easier lie. “Work has just been crazy stressful. I haven’t been sleeping well. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Hearing it was just stress, she exhaled, her shoulders dropping in relief. Though her eyes still held pity. “You young people push yourselves too hard. It’s not your fault. “But you have to let things go. Health comes first, alright? We’ll get some meat on those bones.” I smiled and nodded. She smiled back, then immediately shifted gears to roast her own son. “What is wrong with Noah? His wife is this stressed out and he doesn’t even notice? “Just wait until he gets home, I’m going to chew him out.” She turned around and started aggressively prepping the vegetables. Watching her busy, loving silhouette by the sink made the guilt burn my throat. I softly asked her, “Pulling Lily out of her ballet classes and making her cook on camera… are you mad at me for that?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480753”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day I miscarried and suffered a massive hemorrhage, my parents rushed to the hospital through a torrential downpour. They never made it. A truck T-boned their car halfway there. As I lay on the cold operating table, my hands, stained red with my own blood, shook violently as I signed their emergency surgery consent forms. In the end, I could not save my baby, and the doctors could not save my parents. The one person who should have been by my side, the man whose calls I had desperately tried to reach all night, was busy posting a celebration on his social media feed. Congratulations to Barnaby! A long night of hard work, and she is finally a mom. With what little strength I had left, I tapped the like button. Within seconds, my phone vibrated with a direct message from him. It was incredibly brief, containing just two words. Delete it. I sent him my real-time location at the hospital. Come here. I need to talk to you face-to-face. I have something important to take care of, so I cannot make it! If you need a prenatal checkup, ask your parents to go with you. It is not like they have anything else to do. Your so-called important business is delivering her dog’s puppies? Why does being pregnant turn you into such a jealous shrew? You are seriously jealous of a dog now? I did not have the energy to argue with him. Since he refused to show up, he could talk to my lawyer instead. … By the time I finished handling my parents’ final arrangements, it was late the following evening. I dragged my exhausted, aching body through the front door of our apartment. The place, which I always kept meticulously clean, was an absolute disaster. Gavin was bent over the coffee table, rummaging through drawers and tossing papers onto the floor. He did it with the practiced ease of a man who assumed someone else would always clean up after him. Hearing the door click, he did not even look up. His voice held a sharp edge of irritation. “Where the hell have you been all weekend? I had to order takeout for lunch.” I stood frozen. He had not come home last night either. For the past two years, this had been our life. When the lights in Tessa’s apartment flickered out, he would jump out of bed in the middle of the night to fix them. Yet he forgot to lock our own front door, allowing a drunk intruder to stumble into our living room, leaving me with nightmares for an entire month. When Tessa’s dog went into labor, he refused to accompany me to my checkup. He had even taken a week of paid leave to stay by her side, acting as if delivering puppies was a job for a chief surgeon rather than a veterinarian. Receiving no response, Gavin finally turned to look at me. His annoyance quickly gave way to a flicker of surprise. “You look incredibly pale. Is the baby acting up again?” I took a step back, dodging his hand as he reached toward my stomach. My voice was entirely flat. “I called you seventy-six times yesterday. Why did you not answer?” Gavin’s hand remained suspended in midair, his brow furrowing. “Ann, are you seriously cross-examining me right now?” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Tessa and I grew up together. Barnaby is not just a pet to her; she has had that dog since she was a kid. Tessa was absolutely beside herself with worry, and I had to help with the delivery. In a life-and-death situation like that, how was I supposed to answer your pointless calls?” “It was just a routine checkup. Plenty of pregnant women go to those by themselves. Even if you could not handle it, your parents are always free. What difference does it make if I am not there?” Looking at his self-righteous expression, a bitter question formed in my throat. What about my parents? The crash had been horrific. My father had lost all signs of life before the ambulance even arrived. My mother made it to the operating room, but her injuries were incredibly severe and complex. Gavin’s colleague had pulled me aside, telling me that only Gavin, with his specialized expertise and knowledge of her medical history, could give her a fighting chance. Gavin had claimed he was too busy to pick up my calls. Yet the moment I liked his social media post, he had instantly messaged me to demand I undo it, terrified that Tessa might feel slighted. “Is she really just a childhood friend?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Because I saw you kiss her, Gavin.” It had happened at the very restaurant where he proposed to me, in the exact same booth. Distracted by the sheer shock of it, I had stepped off the curb without seeing the speeding motorcycle. Although the rider braked in time, the sheer impact of hitting the pavement was enough to destroy the tiny, three-month-old life inside me. 2 Panic, rare and sudden, flickered in Gavin’s dark eyes. “Tessa was just so overwhelmed about Barnaby, so I took her out to get some fresh air. She had a few too many drinks, and…” His tone softened, taking on a placating warmth. “Alright, let us not dwell on this. I promise I will accompany you to your next appointment.” It was always the same routine. A flimsy excuse to brush off my pain, followed by a sweet promise to pretend nothing had ever happened. But Gavin, you will never have to go to another appointment with me. “Do not bother. Let us get a divorce.” Gavin stiffened, his face flushing with sudden anger. “Ann, is this just what you journalists do? Do you always have to sensationalize everything? I told you, it was a mistake. Do you really need to make a federal case out of this?” “Look at yourself. You are working a dead-end administrative desk job at the station. You are turning thirty, you are pregnant, and who else is going to want you if I leave?” “I work myself to the bone at the hospital every single day for this family. I do not come home to deal with your childish tantrums!” He grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door. As he reached the entryway, his eyes caught on a piece of paper sticking out of my purse. The words Death Certificate were printed in bold black ink. Gavin paused, confusion crossing his face. “Who died?” He reached down to pull the document from my bag, but before his fingers could touch it, his phone blared. Tessa’s frantic, sobbing voice filled the quiet hallway. “Gavin, one of the puppies is choking on milk! The shop is packed with customers, and I do not know what to do. Is it going to die? I am so scared…” Gavin’s posture instantly tensed with anxiety. “Do not cry, Tessa. I am on my way.” Without a backward glance, he threw open the door and rushed out, leaving the apartment quiet once more. He was in such a hurry that he forgot to lock his private study. Driven by a strange, hollow impulse, I walked into the room. My eyes immediately caught on something shoved under the desk leg to keep it level. Years ago, I had been the most promising rookie reporter at the network. I had been assigned to interview the notoriously stubborn, retired chief of medicine. After pulling several consecutive all-nighters to prep, my blood sugar plummeted, and I fainted in the hospital courtyard. Gavin was the one who found me. He had helped me up and told me that the old chief would never agree to an interview. As I hung my head in disappointment, he had slipped an orange candy into my hand, offering me a bright, boyish smile. “But I happen to admire people who take their work seriously. So, why don’t you interview me instead?” Only later did I discover he was the youngest, most brilliant medical professor in the city. Dozens of seasoned journalists had tried to land an interview with him, yet he had broken his own rules just for me. That was how our story began. Later, as our careers grew more demanding, Gavin had looked at me with deep concern. “Ann, I know becoming a chief correspondent is your dream. But my parents are getting older and need support. Could you consider stepping back? I promise I will cherish you for the rest of our lives.” I knew how much his own career meant to him. So, I compromised. I did not resign, but I transferred to a low-pressure administrative role just to keep a connection to the field I loved. During countless sleepless nights, I would sit under the desk lamp, tracing the edges of my press credentials. Whenever Gavin caught me, his face would fill with guilt, and he would hold me close, repeating his promises of a beautiful future. Yet now, that very press badge, the symbol of the career I had sacrificed for him, was being used as a piece of trash to prop up a wobbly desk leg. Using Tessa’s birthdate, I easily bypassed the lock on his safe. Sitting right at the top was a thick manila envelope. Inside were dozens of photographs of the two of them, embracing, kissing, walking hand-in-hand along a sunlit beach. There were also receipts. Gavin had funded her apartment, her pet shop, and her renovations. He had poured thousands of dollars into her business every month, quietly covering her constant losses. 3 Written across the front of the envelope in Gavin’s sharp, elegant handwriting was a single sentence. I will always fight to keep your dreams alive. I stared at those words for a long time. My mind flashed back over the last five years, years spent caring for his parents, cooking his meals, and scrubbing his floors. I remembered the quiet ache I felt whenever I saw my former colleagues working late, fueled by the thrill of a major story. A dry, hollow laugh escaped my lips. So, he did know how to support someone’s dreams. He just chose to support hers, not mine. I took photos of every document and placed them back exactly as I found them. My decision was finally clear. I dialed a familiar number. “Hi, Bernice. I heard the network is looking for a war correspondent to go to Central Asia, and no one has volunteered yet. If you are willing to take a chance on me, I would like to go.” There was a long pause on the other end before Bernice spoke, her voice thick with excitement. “Ann? Truly? I was devastated when you moved to administration. This is an incredible opportunity. It is highly dangerous, of course, but the experience will completely redefine your career when you return. Pack your bags. You will be leaving in a few days.” I hung up and began to pack. There was nothing in this apartment that belonged to me anymore, save for one thing: a soft, hand-knitted wool sweater my mother had finished just before she died. When I was a child, she had knitted all my clothes. As she grew older and her eyesight began to fail, I had begged her to stop, not wanting her to strain herself. But during my pregnancy, I had become highly sensitive to the cold. My mother had secretly stayed up late for weeks, her eyes bloodshot, waving off my concerns with a gentle smile. “Handmade things are always warmer, Ann. You love the baby in your belly, and I love my own baby girl.” I had cherished it so much that I had never even worn it. Yet as I searched the closet, the sweater was nowhere to be found. I was about to call Gavin when my phone chimed with a notification. Tessa had just posted a new update. The puppies were shivering after being born, and someone immediately rushed over with the perfect blanket! Thank you to the puppies’ proud godfather! Of course, my own sewing skills are pretty stellar too. Gavin had spent the day helping her celebrate the puppies’ survival. In the photo, their heads were pressed close together, smiling warmly at the camera. Each of them held three tiny puppies. And at a single glance, I recognized the fabric. The miniature dog coats the puppies were wearing had been cut from my mother’s hand-knitted sweater. My chest tightened as I pushed open the glass door of the pet boutique. Inside, Gavin and Tessa were laughing, sharing a slice of cake with the exact same spoon. Gavin was an extreme germaphobe. At home, his utensils had to be sterilized and kept separate, and he refused to eat family-style without serving spoons. Once, after a long day of cleaning, I had taken a sip from his water glass. He had said nothing at the time, but that evening, the glass was sitting in the trash. He had claimed it was a habit from working in sterile hospital environments. Clearly, those rules only applied to me. Seeing me enter, Tessa arched an eyebrow, her smile dripping with sweet malice. “Oh, Ann! You are here. Gavin and I have been sharing things since we were kids, so please do not mind us. See, Gavin? I told you she would never actually divorce you.” She leaned against the counter, sighing dramatically. “After all, a woman with no career who relies entirely on her husband… if she leaves you, how is she going to support herself, let alone her parents? Running all the way here just to check up on you, she really keeps you on a short leash. I guess I am just too proud. I would rather work hard and be a self-made woman.” Gavin pinched her cheek affectionately. “You are always the clever one, are you not?” Then, he turned to look at me, his expression softening into the patronizing look of a parent forgiving a difficult child. 4 “That is enough, Ann. Since you came all this way to make amends, I will pretend I never heard that nonsense about a divorce.” “Go on home and clean up the apartment. The puppies are still very fragile, so I need to stay here and help Tessa monitor them for a few more days.” Listening to them, a wave of disgust washed over me. One of them played the mistress with absolute pride, while the other painted his emotional infidelity as some noble duty. Ignoring Gavin, I looked directly at Tessa and let out a cold laugh. “Since you are so exceptionally capable, Miss Tessa, why does an independent, self-made woman resort to stealing another woman’s husband and her clothes? Is this ‘strong woman’ act just a cover for your career as a professional homewrecker?” A couple of female customers browsing near the registers turned to look at Tessa in shock. “Wait, you two aren’t married? But sharing a spoon like that… that is a bit inappropriate, is it not?” “Yeah, when I said you two looked like a beautiful couple earlier, you did not correct me. He actually has a wife?” Tessa’s face flushed a deep, angry red. Seeing her expression, the customers murmured in disgust, put down their items, and quickly walked out the door. Tessa’s eyes welled with tears as she turned to Gavin, her voice trembling. “Gavin, is she trying to ruin my business on purpose?” “I only used that sweater because it was warm and soft, perfect for the newborn puppies. She already spends so much of your money; she must have a closet full of clothes! Why does she have to slander me like this? Those were some of my best clients!” Gavin quickly wiped her tears, turning a furious glare in my direction. “Ann, I was the one who took the sweater. Why are you attacking Tessa? It is just a cheap piece of clothing. When did you become so incredibly petty?” “Besides, you are going to gain weight later in your pregnancy anyway, so you would not even fit into it. Just ask your mother to knit you another one. It is not some designer label; why are you acting like it is made of gold?” Looking at his arrogant, dismissive face, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face. “Yes, my mother made it, so it is priceless! Because she can never knit another one for me again!” I screamed, my voice cracking with raw grief. “While you were playing family with your little childhood sweetheart, choosing to deliver her dog’s puppies instead of answering my desperate calls, my parents died!” Gavin’s eyes went wide. His hand dropped from Tessa’s shoulder. “What did you say? Your parents…” Before he could finish, Tessa lunged forward and shoved me hard. “How dare you hit him!” she shrieked. “It is just a stupid piece of fabric! Nobody wants your trash anyway, take it back!” She reached down, ripped the miniature coats off the puppies, and threw the shredded wool directly into a dirty litter box near the door. “And stop lying about your parents dying! I literally saw your mother and father at the supermarket this morning!” “I cannot stand parasites like you who use pregnancy to play the victim, making up horrible lies just to manipulate their husbands. You are an absolute embarrassment to women!” The litter box had not been cleaned yet. The clumps of soiled clay stuck to the delicate wool, instantly ruining my mother’s final gift. “I… I am sorry, I did not mean to…” the young shop assistant stammered, terrified by the raw fury in my eyes. A cold, burning hatred flooded my veins. I turned back to Tessa, raising my hand to strike the woman who had destroyed the last piece of my mother I had left. But before my hand could land, Gavin stepped in. A sharp, deafening crack echoed through the quiet boutique.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480752”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

01 My online boyfriend sent me a Miu Miu dress. By some stroke of bad luck, my mother accidentally put the package into my younger sister’s closet. The good news was that I had just discovered my online boyfriend was actually Austin, the boy I had secretly loved for three years. The bad news was that when my sister wore the dress, he mistook her for me and confessed his love to her. Just as I was about to type out an explanation to him, a cascade of glowing bullet comments drifted across my vision: This side character is so pathetic it is almost comical. Does she still not get it? He fell for her online persona, but he is a visual creature. If it were not for the sister’s gorgeous face, the male lead would have kept her as a virtual pen pal forever. Let her speak! Once she makes a fool of herself trying to explain, the male lead will realize he actually loves the real-life sister, not some text-based avatar! I deleted my half-written text and closed the chat window. … Under the warm glow of the streetlamp, the two of them looked like a picture-perfect couple. I tossed my phone into my desk drawer and forced my eyes back to the math formulas in front of me. But the numbers blurred together, and my mind kept drifting back to my sister, Violet, and Austin. They were saying their goodbyes downstairs. Austin stood under the light, his eyes tracking her figure until she safely crossed the threshold of our building. Outside my door, my mother was already teasing Violet, asking when they had started dating and why she had kept it a secret. She claimed she was not a conservative parent; as long as it did not affect her grades, she would not stand in their way. Violet covered her burning cheeks, her voice dropping to a soft, hushed tone as she glanced toward my room, worried she might disrupt my studying. “He really just confessed to me today! I was completely shocked too.” “He said he has been watching me for a long time, and he even praised how beautiful I looked in this dress!” She wrapped her arms around our mother’s shoulder, leaning in close. “Thank you for buying me this dress, Mom.” It was only then that my mother realized something was off. She had never bought Violet that dress. She had simply assumed Violet had purchased it with her own allowance. Violet blinked in confusion, her gaze instinctively turning toward my closed door. The bullet comments instantly erupted into a wave of adoration: Violet looks so adorable and guilty. My heart is melting. To be fair, that dress looks ten times better on Violet anyway! Do not feel bad, Violet! Once Austin is officially your boyfriend, he will buy you a dozen more, dressing you up like a real-life Barbie to show up that bitter sister. Violet quickly changed out of the dress. Despite her hair still being damp from the shower, she carefully hand-washed the garment, dried it, and folded it neatly. She even tried to drag our mother into my room to apologize to me. But my mother did not believe she had done anything wrong. “I cook and clean for you girls every single day, and now I am the one in the wrong?” my mother grumbled. “It was just a laundry mistake. We can just swap it back! Since when does a mother have to bow down and apologize to her own children?” But this was not the first time. It was never a simple mistake. Whenever a piece of clothing was new, expensive, or brightly colored, my mother would subconsciously place it in Violet’s closet. The worn, dark, or oversized hand-me-downs always found their way into mine. When I first received the package from Austin, I had been so terrified of this exact scenario that I did not even throw it into the shared laundry hamper. I had hand-washed it myself and hung it up on my personal balcony. Yet, when I woke up the next morning, the dress was gone. When I asked my mother about it, she scolded me for being disorganized and leaving my things lying around. I had sat at my desk, intending to message Austin to apologize and admit I had lost his gift, when his chat popped up first. His excitement practically radiated through the screen. I found you. I looked out the window. He was standing right in front of Violet, his smile incredibly tender. A moment later, the door to my room opened. Violet stood there, holding the neatly folded dress out to me. “I am so sorry, Sylvia. I did not know this was yours…” I cut her off quietly. “Just put it at the bottom of the wardrobe.” After all, I would never have the chance to wear it now. 02 The bullet comments flared up again, defensive of Violet: Why is she being so cold? Violet did not do it on purpose. But this time, a solitary voice spoke up for me: Let me put on some armor before I speak, but I have to be fair to the sister here. Violet might not have meant to, but her actions caused Austin to confess to the wrong person. Watching your three-year crush confess to your own sister is a nightmare for any teenage girl. It is completely normal that she cannot bring herself to smile. One by one, the lights in the house went out. The living room, our parents’ bedroom, and Violet’s room fell dark. Only after I clicked off my desk lamp did the darkness swallow me completely. The blue light of my phone screen reflected off the tears dampening my cheeks. Austin and I had met through an online film forum. He had posted a query: Can anyone help me find a movie? I only remember one scene set in a dimly lit library. The male lead is leaning against a bookshelf, reading a book. I had stumbled across the post during my lunch break and left a brief reply: It sounds like Love Letter by Shunji Iwai. When I reopened the app later, I found he had left dozen of thank-you messages and had even tried to send me a digital tip. I was quite active on the forum back then, using a profile picture of an apple and helping users identify obscure films for free. But Austin still sent me a private message, explaining that the movie was his late mother’s absolute favorite. He remembered her watching it repeatedly when he was a child, but he had never been able to recall the title. He insisted on finding a way to show his gratitude. Eventually, we exchanged contact details. I was a quiet, reserved person, but Austin’s warmth was like a constant sun. He quietly monitored every thread I commented on, occasionally sending me silly emojis of clumsy golden retrievers, joking about how he had tried to search for a film as fast as he could but was still a few seconds slower than me. He eventually noticed that my profile picture and username were both related to apples. He asked if it was my favorite fruit. My favorite artist is Shiina Ringo, I had replied. And Ringo means apple in Japanese. That was the first time I had initiated a personal detail. The moment I hit send, I flipped my phone face down on the desk, my heart racing. I wrote in my diary that night: Revealing your personal tastes to someone is far more terrifying than any spam pop-up. From the day he added me, his social media was completely open to me. He posted photos of his school crest, English test papers, and the view of the courtyard from his classroom window. It was far easier to identify him than any movie. I quickly matched his posts with the boy I had been quietly watching at school. The final confirmation came during a physical education class. Austin and a group of boys walked past my classroom window. One of his friends laughed and teased him: “Since when did you change your profile picture to Isaac Newton? Is that your secret to topping the physics exams?” Austin shoved him playfully, laughing. But as he passed my window, the cord of my white earphones slipped from my school uniform. His voice carried clearly through the open window, hitting me with absolute clarity. “I am just waiting for my apple to fall.” The thump of my own heartbeat drowned out the music playing in my ears. That night, I opened my social media to him and accepted his gift of the Miu Miu dress. There is a special screening at the archive cinema this weekend, he had written. If you are willing to go with me, wear this dress to school. I will find you. The next morning, a hand lightly tapped my shoulder. I turned around, but the moment the boy saw my face, his bright expression stiffened into awkward embarrassment. “Oh… sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Violet quickly stepped in, hooking her arm through mine with a bright laugh. “You silly boy, this is my older sister!” Watching their hands naturally clasp together, I forced a blank smile and quietly returned to my seat. Since reading those bullet comments, I had stopped replying to Austin’s messages. He had endless things to talk about with Violet at school, and he did not seem to notice my silence at all. Until one afternoon, Violet casually tossed an apple onto my desk. “Why are you and Austin both so obsessed with apples? It is such a boring fruit.” Austin, who was standing nearby, froze instantly. 03 Before he could ask me anything, a burly man with heavily tattooed arms stormed into our classroom, heading straight for my desk. “Are you Sylvia Carter? You are the one who scammed my money, right?” He claimed to be my online boyfriend, pulling out a tablet to display several explicit, highly inappropriate photos of a girl who looked exactly like me. He claimed I had sent them to him and had recently demanded a large bank transfer from him before agreeing to meet him at a hotel. I stared at the screen, my heart dropping. I did not even recognize this man. “That is not my account. You have been scammed.” But he refused to believe me, and the surrounding students began to murmur. “I cannot believe she is actually like this.” “She is the complete opposite of her sister. Having a sister like that must be so embarrassing.” My desperate protests of “It wasn’t me” were quickly drowned out by the rising tide of whispers. The man sneered, leaning over my desk. “Sylvia Carter, Class Two, Senior Year. How many Sylvias do you think there are in this school?” “Either you come to a hotel with me right now, or you return every single cent I spent on you!” As he reached out to grab my wrist, a hand suddenly shot out, intercepting him and shielding me behind a broad shoulder. It was Austin. The bullet comments reacted with sheer shock: Why is the male lead protecting her? Did he figure out she is the online friend because of the apple? If he actually falls for this side character, I am dropping this book. Here we go again, slandering female characters with zero proof. There is literally no evidence she actually did any of that. The homeroom teacher arrived quickly, and the police were called to escort the man out of the building. To minimize the disruption, the school administration asked Violet to contact our parents so I could be taken home for the afternoon. Austin walked with me to a bench in the quiet courtyard. Clutching my cold hands, I looked up at him, clinging to a desperate shred of hope. “Do you believe me?” He cracked open a bottle of apple juice and handed it to me. “Violet cares about you very much. For her sake, I will help you find the truth.” His help had nothing to do with me. It was merely an extension of his affection for my sister. 04 The investigation concluded far faster than I anticipated. Before my mother even arrived at the school, the female officer in charge of the case confirmed that the photos had been generated using AI. The identity registration of the scam account did not belong to me either. As for who had set up the account to trick the man, the police were still running diagnostics. “It is not your fault, Sylvia,” the officer said gently, patting my shoulder. “I will speak to your parents and your school administration. Your classmates will understand.” The bullet comments echoed her words, drowning out the negative remarks. But the moment my mother stepped into the office, she did not ask if I was alright. Instead, she raised her hand and delivered a stinging slap across my face. “You embarrassing brat! I knew you were up to no good, staring at your phone all day!” “I never told you that you could not date, but if you had met a decent boy like Austin, would I have ever stopped you? Instead, you go out and find this absolute garbage!” I should have stayed quiet. With a woman like my mother, silence was the only defense. If I kept quiet, she would eventually run out of steam. If I argued, she would only become more vicious. But the hollow ache in my chest had been building for too long. I could not stop the words from slipping out. “Did I go out of my way to find garbage, or do you honestly believe I only deserve garbage?” Why did she always put the expensive, beautiful clothes into Violet’s closet, leaving only the old, dull things for me? Why was her profile picture always a photo of just her and Violet? When I finally asked her about it, she had scolded me for being overly sensitive before changing it to a generic landscape. Why did she instantly assume Violet’s online match was a brilliant student like Austin, while mine must be some low-life criminal? “If you are so innocent, unlock your phone!” my mother barked, snatching the device from my hand. She quickly swiped her own birthdate into the lock screen. “Let us see exactly what kind of online friends you have been keeping!” Just as she was about to open my chat history with Austin, the office door flew open. Austin ran inside, breathing heavily. “We found the person who did it.” 05 In the quiet hallway, Austin slipped a cherry popsicle into my hand, nodding toward my swollen cheek. He had kept his promise to find the culprit. While the police were analyzing the digital footprints, Austin had noticed that some of the photos posted on the scammer’s social feed featured a background that matched the school’s art building. Focusing his search on the art and music classes, he had gathered the students and bluffed, claiming the police had already identified the owner of the IP address. “The administration is willing to give the person a chance,” he had told them. “If they confess now, we won’t pursue legal charges.” Terrified, a girl from the music department immediately stepped forward. She confessed that she had a grudge against Violet, but when she went looking for Violet’s personal details, she had accidentally copied my student profile instead. She figured that ruining the older sister’s reputation would destroy Violet’s standing just as effectively. Upon hearing this, Violet’s face flushed with anger. She lunged forward, intending to kick the girl, but Austin quickly held her back. “Let the teachers handle it, Violet. Do not get suspended over this.” Violet turned to our mother, her voice trembling with indignation. “Mom, you have to apologize to Sylvia. You hit her without even knowing the truth!” My mother shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting around the room as she muttered defensive excuses. “I was just terrified for her!” “And besides, even if she did not do it this time, she is always staring at her phone. A young girl hanging around online is bound to meet some shady characters eventually.” Austin’s expression hardened. “Mrs. Carter, Violet and I met online too.” Violet looked up at him, a flicker of panic crossing her eyes. Yet, she did not speak up to correct him. This is so painful to watch, a bullet comment read. Violet has realized that Austin’s confession was meant for her sister. But she still hasn’t told him the truth. She is not returning him to Sylvia. Why should she? He is the male lead. And honestly, even if Sylvia reveals the truth, Austin will still choose Violet in the end. Want to bet? I reached into my pocket, unlocked my phone, and turned the screen toward the room. “Do you want to see my online boyfriend?” 06 “Your online boyfriend…” Violet whispered that night. “It was Austin, wasn’t it?” She had crept into my room with her pillow, lying down beside me as if she had not spent the afternoon pretending to have a sprained ankle to distract everyone from seeing my phone screen. Seeing my silence, she offered a small, bitter smile. “Do not look at me like that, Sylvia. It is Austin we are talking about.” “When a boy with those bright, adoring eyes looks at you like you are his entire world… anyone would want to steal a little bit of that magic, even if it does not belong to them.” She had known the truth since the day of his confession. The specific details and memories he had mentioned during his speech were things she had no recollection of. But because she liked him, she had continuously made up excuses to keep the illusion alive. She had claimed her old phone was broken, which was why she no longer used the ‘apple’ account, and she had pretended our entire family was obsessed with apples. She had resolved that if anyone else had been the owner of that account, she would never have let go of him. “But that person was you, my own sister.” I stared at her, unsure of what she was trying to achieve. Suddenly, my phone vibrated with a message from Austin. Can we meet outside the archive cinema tonight? There are some things I need to clear up. Violet sat up, as if she had anticipated this. She reached into her bag, pulling out the Miu Miu dress with one hand and her makeup bag with the other. “Go on, Cinderella,” she said softly. “Let me help you put things back where they belong before the clock strikes midnight.” The bullet comments were stunned: The classic plot of the sister stepping aside is actually happening. Violet has her own pride. She could never live a lie forever, pretending to be someone else just to keep a boy. Honestly, I am not sure which one he will choose now. “Do not worry, he will fall for you,” Violet whispered, applying a light coat of lip gloss to my lips. But as she leaned back, a flicker of sadness crossed her eyes. As we walked out, my phone kept chiming with notifications. Austin was going back through every single post and comment I had ever made on the forum, liking them one by one. The steady hum of the notifications sounded like the steady, nervous beat of a heart. I practically ran to the entrance of the cinema, a bright smile on my face, ready to explain everything. But before I could speak, Austin quietly interrupted me. “Thank you, Sylvia.” “But… I think I have my answer now.” He had not called me here to verify if I was his online partner. A boy as clever as Austin had noticed the discrepancies long ago. Violet’s confession had merely confirmed his suspicions. He had asked to meet me tonight to answer a single question: If I had been the one standing under the streetlamp that night, would his heart have beat the same way? Seeing me in the dress, he realized the spark simply was not there. He pulled out his phone and transferred five thousand dollars to my account. “I am truly sorry for taking up so much of your time. I hope we can still be friends.” He looked at the Miu Miu dress, his voice dropping. “But… I would appreciate it if you did not wear that dress again.” “It looks beautiful on you. But I want the memory of that dress to belong only to Violet.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480751”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was scrolling through a community help forum while slacking off at work when a particular post caught my eye. My female subordinate keeps hitting on me. Should I fire her? As I read through the post, the description of the subordinate’s outfit and her daily routine started to look suspiciously familiar. The next day, I wore my standard office uniform: a simple white button-down shirt and a navy blue skirt. Sure enough, the forum thread updated shortly after. This woman is a master of seduction. Look how sexy she dressed today. Attached to the post was a stock photo of the exact outfit combination I was currently wearing. The commenters were thoroughly confused, but I was completely floored. … I stared at the stock photo in disbelief. This was indeed my exact outfit for the day. Curious, I clicked on his profile and began scrolling through his history from the very beginning. His earliest posts were highly professional, filled with standard business advice, market analyses, and stock trading tips. I could barely understand most of it. But then, starting from a certain date, the tone of his posts shifted. There is a girl at the office. Her eyes sparkle, and she always flashes me the brightest smiles. All the other employees avoid me like the plague. What does this mean? The commenters immediately replied: She obviously likes you. He responded: Our company has a strict policy against office romance. The commenters asked: Well, do you like her? He replied: What is there to like? A true professional keeps his mind on his work, not on women! A commenter joked: Ah, a career-oriented guy. Pack it up, everyone. But things only got stranger from there. The financial trading posts began to dwindle, replaced by frequent updates about his female subordinate. Yesterday’s help thread had already surpassed five thousand upvotes and racked up a four-digit comment section. My female subordinate keeps provoking me, ruining my productivity. What should I do? The commenters, always eager for drama, egged him on: Just fire her. He replied: I am a man of principle. I cannot fire people without cause. How exactly is she provoking you? Give us the details. In response, he wrote a incredibly long, detailed explanation. Every Monday during our weekly meeting, she dresses incredibly sexy and stares at me with sparkling eyes while presenting. I once mentioned that I minored in creative writing in college. She happens to be a popular writer on Reddit. My Reddit username is EndlessSummer. Her corporate Slack handle is Jellybean. A commenter expressed their confusion: I let everything else slide, but what on earth do EndlessSummer and Jellybean have in common? He replied almost instantly: Jellybeans are sweet and colorful, just like summer days! If she likes jellybeans, she likes sweet summer days, which means she likes Endless Summer, which means she likes me! It is a blindingly obvious hint! Another commenter wrote back: Right… crystal clear. This was when the truth finally hit me. The female subordinate was me. My Slack handle was indeed Jellybean, simply because I loved eating jellybeans. But I never paid attention to my colleagues’ personal social media usernames, and I had no idea who EndlessSummer was. My day job was a corporate wage slave, and my side gig was writing fiction online. That was a known fact around the office, but I never shared my pen names, nor did I care about anyone else’s. 2 The forum commenters were quite blunt. OP, what do you mean she is provoking you? You are clearly projecting. Exactly, those two usernames have absolutely no connection. This is hilarious. OP has already scripted a three-hundred-episode romance drama in his head while the girl is still in the opening credits. The poster was not pleased. Then why does she try so hard to show off in front of me during every single meeting? A commenter wrote back: Is there a slight chance she just wants a promotion and a raise? I took a slow sip of my coffee in the breakroom, trying to figure out who this poster could possibly be. But to be safe, I needed to confirm if this “sexy” subordinate was indeed me. The next day, I wore a basic white button-down and a blue pencil skirt. It was not a Monday, so there was no weekly meeting scheduled. However, my direct supervisor, Gabe, suddenly called an emergency catch-up meeting. Right after the meeting concluded, the forum post updated. This woman is a master of seduction. Look how sexy she dressed today! I logged into my throwaway account with a default avatar and left a reply: How sexy? Post a picture. Within an hour, my comment gathered over a thousand upvotes, surpassing the engagement of the original post. Eager to prove his point to the skeptical crowd, the poster quickly uploaded a stock photo of a white shirt and a blue pencil skirt. The comment section was instantly flooded with question marks. The poster defended himself: You guys do not understand. To see me today, she even wore THAT!! I quickly replied: What is ‘that’? Other commenters followed up: Now I am curious. What is it? Isn’t this the most basic office wear? How is this sexy? Honestly, it looks a bit plain. I don’t get OP. Losing his patience, the poster finally replied: Stockings! I am a total leg guy. She wore sheer stockings on purpose to show off her long, slim legs. Plus, she has a tiny daphne flower tattoo right on her ankle. It is incredibly sexy! Mystery solved. The subordinate was definitely me. My name is Daphne, and my ankle tattoo is indeed a daphne flower. The comment section erupted in amusement: Can anyone else relate to holding in their laughter in the office until their face cramps? This poster is absolutely obsessed with his subordinate. Definitely sharing this thread with my friends. This is gold. The poster panicked. Forget it, I cannot explain it to you guys online. I do not like her, alright? My sole focus right now is my career. A commenter left a biting reply: Even after he is cremated, his mouth will probably remain intact. 3 I had two direct supervisors in my department. The first was Marcus, our operations manager. He was married, so I ruled him out immediately. The second was Gabe, our department head. He was single, hilarious, and highly energetic. He was a very likely candidate. Technically, there was also our CEO, Alistair Wiley. While he was drop-dead gorgeous, he was also a ruthless, ice-cold workaholic. Rumors said he had absolutely no interest in romance, living only for the company’s profit. The probability of him being the poster was practically zero. By process of elimination, Gabe was the prime suspect. To confirm my theory, I sent a direct message to the poster using my throwaway account: Do you work at Synapse Tech? He replied almost instantly: How did you know? I looked up from my desk. Gabe was currently standing by the printer, humming a tune and completely focused on his documents. His phone was sitting untouched on his desk. If it was not Gabe… was it Alistair? The terrifying thought took root in my mind, and I could not shake it off. Regardless of how unlikely it seemed, I had to rule him out. 4 I had to take a quick shot of whiskey in the breakroom just to build up the courage to knock on Alistair’s office door. When I entered, Alistair was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, reviewing a file. The evening sun cast a warm, golden glow on his sharp profile. He had a prominent brow, a high bridge, and features that looked perfectly sculpted. The air in the room carried a cold scent of cedarwood and expensive leather. It suited him perfectly: elegant, distant, and incredibly expensive. Seeing me enter, he raised his eyes. They were deep, dark, and completely devoid of warmth. Under his steady gaze, I immediately regretted my decision. How could a man like Alistair ever post such nonsense on an online forum? “What is it?” his deep, steady voice asked. His presence was incredibly commanding. Standing alone in his office, my palms began to sweat from sheer nervousness, but I forced a polite, professional smile anyway. “It is… well, we are organizing an upcoming industry panel, and we would love to invite you to participate if your schedule allows.” He held out his hand. “Let me see the proposal.” Alistair turned the pages of the file with absolute focus. His long, elegant fingers looked like sculpted marble, and his expensive watch glinted in the light. Those hands looked incredibly familiar. I had seen them in one of the photos on the forum account. “Mr. Wiley, what is your forum username? I need to note it down for the guest list.” He glanced at me, remaining silent as he unlocked his tablet and opened the forum app. I leaned in slightly, holding my breath as I waited for his screen to load. When the profile page opened, the username displayed was simply Alistair Wiley. It was not EndlessSummer. The office was incredibly quiet. Because I had leaned in too close, a strand of my hair accidentally brushed against the back of his hand. “I… I am so sorry, Mr. Wiley,” I stammered, quickly backing away. Alistair’s thin lips pressed into a tight line, his entire body stiffening. He looked completely repulsed by my touch. I was definitely crazy to have ever suspected him. 5 My knees felt weak as I walked out of his office. Although the encounter had been terrifying, I had successfully ruled him out. But as I sat back down at my desk, the forum thread updated again. Situation update! You guys still claim she doesn’t like me? She just came to my office to flirt again! She reported on some completely irrelevant event, then ‘accidentally’ let her hair brush against my hand on purpose. This woman has too many tricks up her sleeve. My jaw dropped. This could not be a coincidence. The poster was Alistair Wiley. He actually believed I was trying to seduce him. Wait… does this mean he is interested in me? I shook my head vigorously, trying to clear the ridiculous thought from my mind. There was no way this workaholic capitalist was into me. He was notoriously demanding, both of his employees and himself. During the year the company went public, he had arrived at the office at four in the morning and left at midnight every single day. Even the security guards could not keep up with his schedule. People joked that if Alistair ever wanted to date, he would have to schedule it during his meals, because he could not afford to lose any more sleep. I cautiously peeked through the glass partition of his office. He was still working diligently, his expression stern, his phone sitting facedown on his desk. But the timing of the posts was too perfect. Whether he admitted it or not, I decided to put him to the test. Since he claimed he had no interest in this subordinate, I was going to have some fun. 6 I continued to bait him using my throwaway account in the comment section: I bet OP is some old, unattractive creep projecting his fantasies onto his poor subordinate. The other commenters quickly joined in: Yeah, she is just trying to do her job, and her greasy boss thinks she is trying to seduce him. This is a real-life horror story for the employee. The tone of the comment section shifted rapidly, with everyone attacking the poster’s appearance. The poster tried to defend himself: I am six-foot-two, have an eight-pack, and am highly attractive. Countless women chase me. The commenters laughed: Sure, on the internet, everyone is a six-foot-two billionaire. You are probably a keyboard warrior in real life. As the insults piled up, I sent him a private message: Do you want to prove them wrong? He replied quickly: How? Post one of those trending transition videos. Show off your physique. That will shut them up instantly. He went silent, and his profile did not update for hours. But the comment section kept growing more hostile. I scrolled through the thread, upvoting the criticisms until I was half-asleep. Just as my eyes were closing, a new post appeared on his profile. It was a video. 7 The video started in dim lighting, showing a tall, commanding silhouette. Then, a sharp, metallic sound cut through the silence. The scene cut. The lighting shifted. A warm back-light flared, framing his body perfectly. His face was hidden, but the camera started from his sculpted jaw, slid down his prominent Adam’s apple, and passed over his collarbones. He was holding two prop glowing swords, his chest muscles defined, broad, and perfectly toned. Under the shifting light, a small, dark mole on his left collarbone was faintly visible. The sheer tension and raw sex appeal are off the charts. The phone slipped from my hand, clattering onto the floor. The video ended, looping back to a black screen. I sat frozen in bed, completely stunned by the visual. The comment section erupted in chaos. Oh my god! With a body and vibe like that, you are telling me he is a greasy creep? I apologize for my previous comments, OP. Are you looking for a personal assistant? This is absolute perfection. Some of the comments were incredibly forward. I buried my face in my pillow to stifle my laughter, terrified of waking my parents in the next room. But one particular comment caught my attention: The mole on his left collarbone is incredibly attractive. Who grows a mole right there? It is practically bait. A plan began to form in my mind. If I could get a look at Alistair’s left collarbone, I could confirm my suspicions once and for all. I just needed to find that mole.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480750”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel