Author: Momo Chan

“I’m sorry, Valentina,” my coach said. “But the final roster has been confirmed. There wasn’t a mistake.” I stood outside the administration office for almost five minutes, staring at the sheet taped to the board. My name was gone. Under the National Ice Training Grant, where Valentina Moretti should have been, was Bianca Bellini instead. My first thought was that something had gone wrong with the roster. Then I saw the Romano family guarantee stamped into the review column, and I understood Dante Romano had done it. He had made his family people alter the files and take my spot from me. When I found him, he was leaning against an armored car, scrolling through his phone. He saw me and only flicked ash from his cigarette, squinting at me through the smoke. Two family guards in black suits stood beside the car, silent as walls. “Bianca lost her protection,” he said before I could even open my mouth. “Her stepmother’s side owes money in Jersey and Boston. If she doesn’t get that national grant, she’s finished.” “You’re strong. You can fight your way into the East Coast Ice Trials on your own.” “That national grant comes with a fully funded place at the Olympic Ice Training Center, housing, and training covered,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “You know what that means to me.” I stared at him. He looked everywhere except at my face. Then he sighed, reached into his wallet, and pulled out a black card stamped with the Romano crest. He held it between two fingers, like he was tipping a valet. “Fine. Listen. I’ll pay for your training. Coaches, rink fees, equipment, all of it. Consider it me buying the spot from you. Are we good now?” The rain started. I looked at the card in his hand. Then I looked at his face. He used to tell me that if I trained hard enough, I could leave my ruined family behind, leave this dirty, chaotic place controlled by mafia power, and step onto a bigger stage where my dream could actually mean something. So I trained until my body hurt. The irony was that now he was trying to buy my dream out from under me. I turned around and started walking. His voice cut across the parking lot, even and cold. “Are you serious right now? You’ve spent your whole life chasing money, and you’re really going to walk away from this much?” “What I’m offering you is more than you’d make washing thousands of dishes at that part-time job, more than you’ve ever seen in your life, and you still want to play noble?” I stopped and turned my head just enough to see him through the rain. For years, I had believed some things were untouchable. Then all at once, they rotted through. I gave him a faint smile. “Sure, Dante. Think whatever you want.” By the time I got back to my part-time job, my phone was buzzing. Sofia Quinn, my friend. “Valentina. Tell me I’m reading the list wrong. Tell me Bianca’s name isn’t sitting where yours should be.” “You’re reading it right.” “It’s Dante. It has to be Dante. Did you confront him?” “I just came from him.” I leaned against the back counter, looking at a pile of dirty bowls. “He offered to pay for the rest of my skating career. Said he was buying the spot from me.” The line went quiet for a long beat. “That entitled bastard,” Sofia Quinn said finally. “Tell me you cursed him out.” “I walked away.” “Valentina, you have to fight this. That national grant is yours. Do you have any idea what you went through to earn it? The all-night training, your father—” “It won’t matter.” “What do you mean it won’t matter?” “The spot is funded by the National Sports Bureau, but the Romano family controls this school and half the city around it. The school leaders won’t care whether my place gets stolen. They’ll only listen to the next don of the Romano family.” She went quiet again. “I just saw Bianca’s Instagram story. Dante booked out an entire private club restaurant to celebrate her nomination.” “Fine.” “Fine? That’s it?” “I have to go. The boss is coming.” I hung up before she could say anything else.

The next morning, I went to the school to submit the East Coast Ice Trials paperwork. I was halfway down the corridor when I saw them, Dante with Bianca on his arm. Bianca saw me first. She flinched and ducked behind his shoulder. “Dante, I’m scared.” He stepped in front of her like a wall. “Valentina. Don’t start.” I tried to walk around him. He caught my wrist. “What is wrong with you? Bianca didn’t do anything to you. None of this was her decision, so why do you have to make a scene?” I yanked my arm back. “Let me go.” People in the corridor started looking over: uniformed heirs of family lines, girls wearing diamonds, the young heir who had just finished combat training, and the security guards pretending not to hear.. Bianca’s eyes filled with tears right on cue. She slipped out from behind Dante and took one step toward me. “Valentina, I’m really, really sorry. I never wanted any of this to happen. If hitting someone is the only way you can vent, then hit me. I deserve it.” She came closer with her chin lifted, and Dante wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “Look at her,” he said to me, his voice low and furious. “Look at what you’re doing to her. I never thought you could be this cruel, Valentina.” The whispers started. “That’s her, right? The poor girl stuck in the elite school?” “Wait, isn’t she the one who lost the national grant?” “Lost it to Bianca. Honestly, look at her face. No expression at all. Any man would go cold looking at that. No wonder Dante moved on.” “Bianca is literally an angel. I’d choose her too.” I didn’t look at any of them. My eyes stayed on Dante. “I said, let me go.” He didn’t let go. Instead, he shoved me. I stumbled back and hit the row of steel lockers behind me, my shoulder blades cracking against the metal. For a second, I stayed there with my back against the lockers, looking up at him. He looked right back at me. There was nothing on his face, no flicker, nothing at all. We grew up together. When he was ten, the Romano family was in a bloody feud with another mafia family, and to keep him safe, they threw him into our small town. During his first week there, he picked a fight with three older boys behind the rink and was getting his teeth kicked in when I came around the corner. I held up a sharpened skate blade. They ran. After that, he followed me everywhere. When a boy at the training school bullied me, Dante put him on the ground and beat him hard enough that nobody forgot it. Back then, he would say, “Valentina, I’ve got you. Always.” “We’re getting out of this town. Both of us. National team, international competitions, the whole thing. You and me.” And now he was standing in front of me with another girl pressed against his side, after he had just shoved me into a wall. Bianca cried even harder. “Dante, please, let’s just go. It’s my fault. All of this is my fault.” He turned his head and kissed her hair. “It’s not your fault. Not any of it.” He gave me one last warning look, then led her past me and away. I stayed against the steel lockers until I could breathe again. The administration office was at the end of the corridor. On the way there, I passed the Featured Athletes wall. Bianca’s photo was in the center, bigger than everyone else’s. Beneath it, in clean black letters, it read: A promising young talent moving forward through hardship. A story of resilience. I looked at it for one second and laughed bitterly. I remembered one night after a late training session, when I came back to the rink equipment shop. My father was waiting in the parking lot. I could smell the whiskey on him from ten feet away. “Where’s the money?” I didn’t answer. I tried to get around him and reach the door. He grabbed my hair and slammed my face into the side of the building. “I’m talking to you. Are both your ears deaf now?” “There isn’t any money.” “Bullshit. That Romano kid throws cash around like water, and you’re stuck to him twenty-four hours a day. You’re telling me you can’t squeeze a few hundred out of him for your old man?” He slapped me across the face. “You hiding it? Where is it? Huh?” He started searching me, yanking at my pockets, and I shoved him away. That was the wrong move. He kicked me in the stomach so hard I went down on the asphalt. “You ungrateful bitch. You’re just like your mother. Trash, both of you.” He went looking for something heavier, a tire iron or a piece of pipe. I didn’t see clearly. That was when Dante’s car pulled into the parking lot. The engine hadn’t even stopped before he got out. In two moves, he put my father on the ground, then pulled me up from the asphalt. His hands moved over my face, my arms, my ribs, checking. “Where did he hit you, Valentina. Where.” I couldn’t answer. He took off his own coat and put it around my shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He didn’t go home that night. He sat on the broken couch in the back of the shop until morning. The next day, he walked into the precinct and did not leave until they had my father in a holding cell. When he came back, he sat down beside me and said, “From now on, I’m taking care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything. Ever.” I had actually believed him.

A week before the East Coast Ice Trials, our training school held its final mock competition. There was a full judging panel, full scoring, and several committee observers in black suits sitting by the boards; the whole thing was run like the real event. I took first. My total score was almost twelve points higher than second place. Bianca came in last. She took the score sheet off the board, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the trash on her way off the ice. “Doesn’t matter. I got the national training grant.” Dante was waiting at the boards with two coffees. He handed one to her. Then, with a sincerity that made my stomach turn, he said, “It’s fine. You were beautiful.” I watched Bianca smile like she had just been crowned. She pressed up onto her toe picks and kissed him on the cheek. I walked past them toward the locker room. “Valentina.” I did not stop. “Valentina. Hey.” He came around in front of me, blocking the path. “Are you still angry about the national training grant?” I didn’t answer. “I get it. But come on, look at her situation. She needs this more than you do, and you could win the East Coast Ice Trials in your sleep.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The card I offered you is still valid. Whatever you need, coaches, training camps, I’ll cover it.” He thought money was the answer, as if money could smooth over every wound he had opened. I shook my head. “I don’t need it.” “There you go again.” His jaw tightened. “How long are you going to keep doing this? Do you know how much you make in a month? What I’m offering you is more than you’ll ever pull out of that place in your whole life.” Bianca skated up behind him, all false softness. “Dante, don’t be like that. You can’t be so harsh with a girl.” She gave me a practiced little smile. “Valentina, I know you hate me right now, but I really, truly had no other choice. After my father lost everything, my stepmother has been awful to me. I had nowhere else to turn.” Her eyes shone with tears. I had watched her perform like this for a year. In every conversation, she was the victim; in every room, I was the one making her cry. “Dante said he’ll take care of you,” she went on, her tone soft and generous. “Whatever you need, tell us. Dante and I will help you.” Us? As if that one word meant they had been tied together for life. I couldn’t help the corner of my mouth from lifting. Dante frowned. “What’s funny?” “Nothing. I just think the two of you match each other. I hope it lasts.” His face changed. “Valentina—” I walked past him into the locker room. “Valentina, come back.” I ignored every word. That night, Sofia sent me a photo, a screenshot she had saved from Bianca’s Instagram. Bianca and Dante were in an underground bar. Dante held a bottle of champagne, while Bianca leaned across his lap. Their friends were in the background, raising glasses and shouting, “CONGRATS BIANCA!” Sofia: Dante is rotten through. Walk your own road. He is not worth your grief anymore. She was right. I closed the app and tossed the phone aside. Then I picked up my training journal from the nightstand, opened to the next blank page, and started writing out my East Coast Ice Trials program. As long as I kept training, I did not have to think about anything else.

A week before the East Coast Ice Trials, the training school cut hours for tapering. Most of my teammates used the time to rest, but I still went to my part-time shifts like usual. Wednesday afternoon, I saw Dante’s car parked outside the place where I worked. “Valentina. Come here.” I kept working and ignored him. “I’m talking to you.” He frowned and walked over. He reached for my arm, saw the dirt on my hands, and pulled his fingers back before touching me. “Go wash up and come with us.” “Where?” “The safehouse up the mountain. Bianca wants a few days away from everything. You’re coming with us.” I straightened. “I’m not going.” “Don’t start this again.” He let out a sharp breath. “I drove all the way here. Bianca wants to make peace, so stop being so difficult.” “I have nothing to make peace about with her.” “Valentina.” “I’m training.” He laughed once, short and ugly. “Training. That’s just a ridiculous excuse. You could skate the East Coast Ice Trials hungover and still take first.” “Come on. Leave this dump for a weekend. Bianca actually wants to fix things with you.” “I’m not going.” His patience vanished. He stared at me for a second, then laughed again, his smile cold with disgust. “Are you worried your boss will dock your pay if you leave?” He pulled out his wallet and flung several hundred-dollar bills at my face. The money drifted down through the air and landed on the floor, soaking up dirty water. “Is this enough? No?” He pulled out another stack. “How about now?” Rourke, the owner of the shop where I worked, rushed out, took one look at the cash on the floor, and lowered his voice. “Mr. Romano, what is going on here? We don’t need any of this.” Dante didn’t even look at him. His eyes stayed on me. “Pick it up, then come with me.” I still didn’t move. Bianca had been waiting in the car. When she saw what was happening, she ran over at once. “Dante, please stop. You’re scaring her.” She crouched and began picking up the bills one by one. “Valentina, don’t be mad at him. He’s only trying to be good to me. He didn’t mean to treat you like this.” She held the money out to me with both hands, eyes wet. “Please come with us. I don’t want to be the person who ruins things between you two.” I looked at her, then at Dante. He was not sorry for anything he had done. He thought he was being generous, and therefore I should kneel and thank him. I walked past both of them, went into the back of the shop, and shut the door. Through the wall, I heard him say, “See? She isn’t worth helping. You help her, and she doesn’t even know how to be grateful.” The car engine started, and the sound moved away down the street. A minute later, Rourke came in. He set the stack of cash on the workbench in front of me. “Take it, kid.” “No.” “Valentina.” He pushed it closer. “Your father drinks and gambles. With your situation, you need this.” I stared at the bills. They seemed to carry the smell of Dante’s expensive cologne. I walked to the sink, turned the water as hot as it would go, and started washing my hands. I kept washing until my skin was red and raw. That night, my father came back. He was drunker than usual, and he had seen the cash through the front window. He took it, then started taking everything else. He even put a chair through the front glass. I called the police. When they arrived, he was still swinging a hockey stick at the lights. Two officers put him in cuffs. On his way out, he spat at me. “You called the cops on me? On your own damn father? You were born for men to fuck, you filthy bitch. You should die. You should rot in hell.” I watched the cruiser pull out of the parking lot. Then I looked back at the wreckage in the shop and covered my face. So this was what it felt like to have nobody left around me.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202606263jIAIl0IiU 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni774880”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

Selena, my family’s driver’s daughter, used my identity to online date billionaire Ethan. She messed up and offended him. In a fit of rage, Ethan ruined my family’s company, and my parents ended up in jail. I knelt before him, begging: “That wasn’t me! Selena impersonated me!” He yanked my hair, looking at Selena’s face – almost identical to mine – and sneered, “Still lying?” Selena, of course, had already taken the money and run. I couldn’t bear the crushing blow, so I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. In my final blurry moments, the door opened. Selena walked in, wearing my favorite white dress. She pinched my chin, a smirk playing on her lips. “Chloe,” she purred, “I actually messed with him on purpose. So, how’s it feel? Losing your home and family, isn’t it fun?” I stared at her in disbelief. “We look so alike, so why do you get to be the heiress while I’m just the driver’s daughter?” She tilted her head. “Rest easy, now. I’ll gladly take all your bags and shoes. And all that money Ethan gave me? It’ll be enough for me to live lavishly for most of my life.” As I drew my last breath, my heart was consumed by an ocean of hatred. Then, I opened my eyes again. I was back to the day Selena first used my identity to charm Ethan.

The bitter taste of the pills still lingered in my mouth, and Selena’s cruel words – isn’t it fun losing your home and family? – echoed in my mind. Before I could fully process it, I heard a ruckus from my closet. Selena stood with her back to me, pulling clothes out of my wardrobe one by one, carelessly tossing them onto the floor. She mumbled, her tone full of disdain, “Ethan loves pink, but why doesn’t she have a single pink dress?” “No wonder, she always acts so low-key. Who’d know she’s Chloe Hayes, the heiress?” My heart clenched. I’d always preferred to stay out of the spotlight and avoided social events, which was exactly how Selena found her opportunity. I moved my head slightly, letting out a faint sound. Selena’s body stiffened, a flicker of guilt flashing in her eyes. “Oh, you’re awake? You scared me!” She turned around, patting her chest, her voice laced with annoyance. “Why didn’t you say anything? You’re like a ghost.” I gazed at her innocent-looking face, remembering the horror of my family’s destruction in the previous life. My eyes burned with fury. Growing up, we shared everything—food, home, school. My mom felt sorry for Selena losing her mother early, so she made sure Selena had everything I did. I treated her like my own sister, always indulging and spoiling her. It was my indulgence that had turned her into an entitled and selfish person. I clenched my fists, my gaze sharp, and spoke coldly, “What are you doing?” Selena froze. She’d never seen me like this. After a moment, she blurted out defensively, “I’m looking for clothes to wear! Ethan’s coming back next week to meet me, and your closet doesn’t have a single suitable outfit. It’s so annoying!” Meet you? I scoffed. Selena, did you really think you’d get to meet Ethan next week in this life? Selena, seeing I wasn’t immediately offering to buy her clothes as usual, pouted. “Forget it, you’re never nice to me anyway. I’ll just go buy some myself.” With that, she casually wadded up my clothes and stuffed them back into the closet. Then, she nonchalantly picked up my perfume from the vanity and sprayed a few times. She acted as if she were the actual heiress of the Hayes family. I slowly stood up and said calmly, “I’ll go with you.” “Huh?” Selena looked surprised, then pushed me back. “No need, you just woke up. Get some more rest; I can go by myself.” I smiled, deliberately asking, “Why? Why can’t I go? Are you hiding something from me?” Selena’s gaze darted away, then she forced a strained smile. “No, of course not. I just don’t want you to get tired.” I put on my jacket and instructed Mr. Peterson, our driver, “Take us to the store Selena usually goes to.” Mr. Peterson nodded and soon dropped us off. The moment Selena walked in, the sales assistant greeted her like a celebrity. “Miss Hayes, you’re here!” The assistant said with an ingratiating smile. “We have some new limited edition items today; I saved the best ones for you.” I stood behind Selena, watching the assistant fawn over her. Miss Hayes? It seemed Selena had been using my identity quite a bit. Out of the corner of my eye, Selena nervously glanced at me, afraid I’d expose her on the spot. One of the sales assistants looked at me and asked curiously, “Miss Hayes, who is this?” Before I could speak, Selena quickly pinched my side, then said rapidly, “This is my driver’s daughter. She’s just with me to see the sights.”

I gasped, the pain almost making me cry out. Hearing Selena’s words, the sales assistants looked at me with a hint of subtle disdain, their attitudes immediately cooling. Selena, afraid I’d say another word, immediately pushed me into a nearby fitting room. She lowered her voice. “Chloe, I’ve always told them I’m the Hayes heiress. Otherwise, they’d treat me like dirt. You wouldn’t want me to be looked down on, would you?” I scoffed. “I’m just borrowing your identity. You never go out anyway, and we look so alike, nobody will ever find out.” Selena intimately linked her arm through mine. “Please? Let’s just pretend we’re playing dress-up today.” I lowered my eyes, concealing the surging anger within. Selena, enjoy your moment for now. After all, the higher you climb, the harder you fall. I smiled. “Okay.” Selena immediately tried on clothes with glee. She finally picked three items, placed them on the counter, and called out without looking back, “Checkout.” Seeing my delay, she turned to look at me, a flash of impatience in her eyes, as if asking, What are you waiting for? Why aren’t you paying? I looked at her and found it almost amusing. A driver’s daughter, in front of strangers, looking at the Hayes heiress as if she were an ATM. I remembered how in my past life, whenever we went out together, I always paid. And she would simply accept it, occasionally saying, “Chloe, you’re the best.” My kindness to her had become a weapon pointed at myself. I hid the mockery in my eyes, raised my hand, and pointed at the high-end, dusty pink gown on the mannequin in the display window. My voice was calm. “Wrap that one up.” Selena’s eyes instantly lit up. She quickly stepped forward and intimately linked her arm through mine. “Chloe, you’re so good to me! But this one isn’t really for me; the color is too deep. Why don’t you buy me a bracelet instead…” I subtly withdrew my arm and slowly said, “This is for me.” Selena’s smile froze. She stared at me in disbelief. The next second, a hint of suspicion flashed in her eyes. “Chloe, why are you suddenly changing your style?” Seeing I didn’t speak, she looked me up and down, her gaze critical. “Chloe, have your tastes gone bad? Pink is too sweet. You’re usually so cool and understated; you can’t pull it off. It’ll just look tacky and awkward on you.” “You don’t even wear makeup. Wearing that with a bare face would look so strange.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. Calmly, I took out my phone and scanned the QR code to pay. Selena’s face completely fell. As if something clicked, she said in a sarcastic tone, “I get it! You heard me say Ethan loves pink, so you’re deliberately buying these dresses to follow suit? You want to steal my thunder, you want to take my place and charm Ethan, don’t you?” The more she spoke, the more convinced she was she was right, her voice filled with accusation. “Chloe, Ethan and I have been talking for so long. Who do you think you are, suddenly showing up? You’re my best friend, how could you do this?” Not far away, a few sales assistants tidying clothes whispered to each other, their eyes openly disdainful of me. “They look so alike… Could she really be trying to steal her boyfriend?” “She’s the Hayes heiress, after all. If a driver’s daughter had such ideas, she wouldn’t know what hit her.” “Exactly. She should look in a mirror. Does she really think looking like Miss Hayes will turn a pauper into a princess?” “Shameless.”

Those words cut me like a knife. Selena heard them too. She didn’t say a word in my defense; instead, the corner of her mouth curved into a pleased smile. I turned to face Selena directly, emphasizing each word: “Miss Hayes, I have no interest in Ethan.” I allowed a slight smile. “My birthday is the day after tomorrow. I’m planning a birthday party and simply picking out a dress I like.” “What?” Her voice suddenly shot up. “A birthday party? When did you say you were having a birthday party? How come I don’t know about it?” I picked up my shopping bag and turned to walk out of the store. Selena, behind me, completely panicked. She knew that if this birthday party happened, all the prominent families would be there, and Ethan would definitely come. Then, Ethan would find out she had lied to him. Thinking of Ethan’s ruthless methods, Selena was instantly terrified. I heard her ragged breathing behind me, and in my peripheral vision, I caught her pale face, a mocking smile playing on my lips. “Chloe,” Selena hurried to catch up. “What’s wrong with you? You never liked these things before. Didn’t you say parties were too much trouble? Didn’t you say you hated socializing? Why suddenly…” I stared at her and slowly said, “Why are you so anxious about me having a party?” Selena instantly stiffened. Seeing my half-smile, a surge of anger rose within her. She stomped her foot, her voice forceful. “No, I don’t agree to you having one.” She took a step forward, grabbing my wrist, and spoke rapidly. “If you suddenly have a birthday party now, they’ll think all your past low-key behavior was an act. You have to understand, everything you do represents the Hayes family’s reputation. Your dad just handed the company over to you to manage; if you’re so high-profile now, you’ll be embarrassing him.” “And, you’ve rejected so many invitations before, saying you dislike socializing. Now you’re suddenly throwing your own party, what will people think? They’ll think you used to look down on them, deliberately put on airs, and now that they’re doing well, you’re trying to butter them up.” “Chloe, I’m doing this for your own good.” I lowered my eyes, looking at her hand gripping my wrist. Her nails were manicured; I had paid for that last month. The ring on her finger was a birthday gift I’d given her last year. The watch on her wrist was a limited edition my mom brought back from Switzerland; she said she liked it, so I took it off and gave it to her. Everything on her, from head to toe, was mine. And she was using this hand, adorned with my possessions, to stop me from reclaiming what was rightfully mine. I scoffed and said calmly, “Oh, but I’ve already sent out the invitations.” “What?” Selena gasped, her voice trembling. “Who did you send them to?” I feigned thoughtfulness. “The Brooks family was the first, and then the Stone family… I’ll help you test Ethan to see if he’s a good match for you. And the Harrison family…” Seeing Selena looking on the verge of collapsing, I directly pulled open the car door and got in. Selena was absent-minded all day. That night, as I lay in bed, I heard a phone conversation coming from the next room. “Baby, I heard you’re having a birthday party. Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?” Selena’s voice was feigned calm. “I thought you’d be back next week anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal. Honey, you don’t need to come.” “How can I not?” Ethan’s tone was serious. “How could I miss your birthday? I’ve already bought my flight ticket. I’ll be there right on time on the day of the party.” Selena’s heart tightened. Just as she was about to try and dissuade him, Ethan hung up. “No,” she murmured to herself. “I can’t just sit here and wait for disaster. This party has to be mine.” I scoffed. Can’t sit here and wait for disaster? I’d like to see what kind of trouble you can stir up.

Three days later, at the birthday party, all the city’s elite had arrived. “Chloe, it’s time to change.” Selena pushed open the door, holding a glass of orange juice. She was wearing a beautiful gown and exquisite makeup, looking even more like the birthday girl than I did. “Drink this, line your stomach. You’ll be busy tonight,” she said, handing me the orange juice. I took it and glanced down. The orange juice looked normal and smelled normal, but I noticed a tiny white particle on the side of the glass that hadn’t fully dissolved. “Thank you,” I said, looking at her and smiling. Then I raised the glass to my lips and took a large sip. Her eyes brightened. With the orange juice in my mouth, I used the pretense of wiping my lips to spit most of it into a tissue. A moment later, Selena leaned in solicitously. “Chloe, what’s wrong? You don’t look well.” I swayed a bit, playing along, and held onto the bedside table. “I feel a little dizzy. Maybe I’ve been too busy today.” “Then lie down for a bit,” she said gently. “The party’s still early. You rest, and I’ll keep an eye on things.” I lay down and closed my eyes. In that instant, I saw Selena flash a triumphant smile. It was identical to the one she’d given me when she squatted in front of me in my previous life. Selena stood by my bed for a moment, seemingly confirming I was really out. Then, she lowered her voice. “Come in.” The door opened, and I heard two sets of footsteps. “Tie her up, gag her, and take her to that abandoned factory on the west side of town. Don’t come back until I call you.” Ropes wrapped around my wrists, duct tape sealed my mouth. I didn’t struggle throughout the entire process. Then, two men carried me out of the bedroom, through the back door, and into a van that drove further and further away. Meanwhile, Selena slowly descended the stairs, a graceful smile on her face. “Happy birthday, Miss Hayes, you look stunning tonight!” “Mr. Hayes, you’re so lucky. I hear your company is running smoothly.” Selena smiled and nodded, graciously accepting all the compliments, comfortably enjoying all the glory that should have been mine. For twenty years, she had meticulously imitated my tone and expressions. Coupled with a face almost identical to mine, no one suspected she was a fraud. “Mr. Stone has arrived!” a voice announced from the entrance. All eyes in the room turned to the door. Ethan stood there, dressed in a black suit, holding a large bouquet of roses. He gazed deeply at Selena, then quickly walked forward and knelt on one knee. A collective gasp rippled through the banquet hall. “Miss Chloe Hayes,” his voice filled with tenderness, “I owe you a formal confession.” He took out a velvet box from his pocket, opened it, revealing a massive pink diamond ring. “Will you be my girlfriend?” The banquet hall was silent for three full seconds. Then, someone started clapping, someone shrieked, and people began chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” Selena stood there, her heart pounding, a blissful smile on her lips. She took a deep breath and slowly extended her hand. “I…” The next second, the banquet hall doors were kicked open. The entire room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at the entrance. My gaze cut through the crowd, landing directly on Selena. “You’re Miss Chloe Hayes? Then who am I?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “429584”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

For five years, Ethan Stone spoiled me, making me the envy of every woman in the city. He remembered I didn’t eat spicy food, that I hated noise, and that I preferred simple, understated white dresses. He even had white noise machines ready in advance, knowing I’d have trouble sleeping on rainy nights. Everyone said he was madly in love with me. Until that night, when I saw a list titled “My Dearest” in his notes app. That’s when I realized I didn’t actually dislike spicy food, and I was never afraid of noise. Every single item on that list, which he had memorized by heart, was about his first love. For five years, he had merely been meticulously carving me into another woman’s image. Now, the dream was over. Mr. Stone, I’m not going to be your stand-in anymore. The auction house glittered with dazzling lights. My eyes were glued to the ruby necklace on stage. It was the main item of the night, and something I’d coveted for a long time. “Fifty million.” Ethan Stone, next to me, raised his paddle, his voice deep and cool. My heart fluttered. I turned to him. “Ethan, are you really buying it for me?” Ethan didn’t even spare me a glance. He stood up and, from the hostess, accepted not the ruby necklace, but a diamond bracelet. I froze. He had just bought that bracelet for sixty million. Ethan casually handed the ornate box containing the diamond bracelet to his assistant behind him. “Deliver this to the Willow Creek Estate immediately.” “She’s a light sleeper. Don’t ring the doorbell. Just give it to the butler.” The assistant nodded respectfully, then quickly left. I watched the assistant’s retreating back, my heart sinking little by little. The Willow Creek Estate. That was where Sophia Grey had been staying since she returned to the country. Ethan finally turned to me, giving me a look. He looked at my plain white evening gown, completely unadorned, and his brows slightly relaxed. “That ruby is too flashy. It doesn’t suit you.” “Don’t you always prefer simple and elegant things?” His tone was matter-of-fact, as if stating an undeniable truth. I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I didn’t like simple things. I loved bold reds, vibrant passion, and anything that sparkled. But five years ago, the first time I stood before him in a red dress, he frowned and said, “Too garish. Change it.” After that, my closet only held black, white, and grey. My jewelry box only contained pearls and thin, plain bands. I thought that was the way he liked me. On the drive home, the silence in the car was suffocating. Ethan leaned back, closing his eyes to rest. Suddenly, his phone automatically connected to the car’s Bluetooth. An obnoxious calendar reminder popped up on the screen. “Thunderstorm tonight. Remember to remind her to drink hot milk and turn on white noise.” My breath hitched. I turned to look out the window, and sure enough, a fine rain had begun to fall. But I was never afraid of thunder. I slept deeper than anyone during rainstorms. I didn’t need white noise at all. Ethan suddenly opened his eyes, quickly dismissing the reminder on the screen. He offered no explanation, merely stating, “Just a work reminder.” I looked at his perfect profile, and suddenly felt incredibly estranged. Was it really just work?

Late at night, Ethan was showering in the bathroom. The water rushed loudly. His phone, resting on the bedside table, lit up with a message notification. Sophia: “Received the bracelet, it’s beautiful. Thank you for remembering I like this style.” I stared at the message and, as if compelled, picked up his phone. The password was his birthday. I had always known that. But I had never checked his phone. Because I trusted him implicitly. Tonight, however, that trust felt like it had been eaten through. I tapped on his notes app. At the very top, there was a pinned folder named “My Dearest.” Inside, there was a long, detailed list. “She doesn’t like bright colors; her clothes should be white.” “Her taste is light; she absolutely can’t touch chili.” “She’s afraid of noise; she dislikes crowded places.” “She’s allergic to seafood; be careful with meals.” “She gets scared during thunderstorms; needs company.” Every single item, every word, felt like a sharp knife stabbing into my eyes. I looked at these “preferences” he held as gospel. I was chilled to the bone, as if plunged into an ice cave. I loved bold reds. I lived for spicy food. My favorite was all kinds of spicy dishes. I loved going to music festivals, loved screaming in the crowd. My favorite food was spicy seafood. I wasn’t allergic at all! For five years, he had strictly followed this list, dictating my life. When I took him to a spicy restaurant, he’d coldly say, “Eating this isn’t healthy. Didn’t you say you disliked it?” When I wanted to go on a beach vacation, he’d say, “The beach is too noisy. Let’s go to a private resort instead.” I thought he was just controlling, just a bit arrogant. For love, I desperately suppressed my true nature to fit his “rules.” Only today did I understand. I wasn’t being cherished. I was just being loved wrong. The person he loved was never me. He was merely carving Sophia’s image onto me, stroke by stroke. The sound of the shower stopped. Ethan walked out, drying his hair. He glanced at the phone in my hand, and his face instantly darkened. “Summer, who gave you permission to touch my phone?” He strode over and snatched the phone away. There was no guilt in his tone, only offended fury. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. “Ethan Stone, I’m not allergic to seafood.” My voice trembled as I spoke each word. Ethan froze for a moment, then frowned. “What’s gotten into you in the middle of the night?” “Didn’t you break out in a rash last time after that sushi place?” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. “That was from the raw cashew cream at that fancy vegan restaurant you insisted we go to!” “I told you many times, I’m not allergic to seafood. I love spicy food. I love rubies!” Ethan’s gaze turned cold. “Summer Lynn, are you throwing a tantrum over that necklace today?” “It’s just a necklace. Tomorrow I’ll have my assistant buy you ten plain gold chains.” “Don’t make a scene. I’m tired.” He turned, tossed his phone onto the sofa, and got into bed. Leaving me with only his cold back. I looked at his back and suddenly felt a wave of nausea. This was the man I had loved for five years. He didn’t even know what I truly liked. He didn’t even have the desire to understand me.

The next morning, I went to my jewelry design studio. I’m a jewelry designer. But in these five years of marriage, my work had become increasingly scarce, and my style more and more monotonous. All minimalist, simple, lifeless lines. As soon as I walked into the studio, Mia, my assistant, rushed over. “Summer, this is bad!” “Mr. Stone canceled the media pre-interview for the international jewelry exhibition next month!” I stopped abruptly. “Why?” Mia’s face was grim. “Mr. Stone’s secretary called to say you don’t like being in the limelight, don’t like being surrounded by too many people.” “He said such noisy occasions weren’t suitable for you, and asked the organizers to withdraw your name.” I stood there, my fingertips digging deep into my palms. That was the big exhibition I’d been preparing for an entire year! I’d pulled countless all-nighters for this exhibition, designing a collection of colored gemstones. I wanted to use this opportunity to rediscover the radiant person I once was. But Ethan Stone, based on a single line in his notes app — “She’s afraid of noise” — had casually crushed all my hard work. He didn’t just want to control my life; he wanted to strangle my career. Just then, the studio door opened. Ethan walked in. Beside him was Sophia Grey, dressed in a simple white dress, looking delicate and fragile. The atmosphere in the studio instantly dropped to freezing point. Mia and the other employees exchanged glances, not daring to breathe. Ethan surveyed my studio, a slight frown on his face. “Why is this place such a mess?” He turned to Sophia, his voice immediately softening. “Sophia, you’ve just returned. You want to open an art gallery, and I think this location is perfect.” “Summer doesn’t really need this much space anyway. Why don’t we just give half of it to you?” I stared at Ethan in disbelief. This was my studio! It was a place I’d saved up for and bought myself before we got married! How dare he decide, with a single sentence, to give half of it to his first love? Sophia gently tugged on Ethan’s sleeve, smiling graciously. “Ethan, let’s not. Don’t make Summer feel awkward.” As she spoke, she browsed the display cabinets. Suddenly, her gaze stopped at a glass case. Inside was the centerpiece of my recently completed colored gemstone collection — an exaggerated, wildly styled ring set with a top-grade pigeon blood ruby. Sophia’s eyes lit up. “Ethan, this ring is so unique.” Ethan walked over, glanced at it, and his frown deepened. “The color is too intense. It doesn’t suit your delicate style.” Sophia bit her lip, looking a little hurt. “But I really like it.” Ethan turned to me and said in a condescending tone: “Summer, wrap this ring up and give it to Sophia as a welcome-back gift.” “Your overly flamboyant designs don’t sell anyway. You might as well do someone a favor.” I stood there, feeling all the blood rush to my head. “No.” I coldly spat out the single word. Ethan’s face instantly darkened. “Summer, don’t be so petty.” “Sophia isn’t feeling well. Can’t you just indulge her a little?” I walked to the display cabinet and locked the glass cover. “Ethan Stone, this is my passion project. It’s not a prop for you to use to flatter other people.” “Want to give a gift? Go buy one yourself!” Sophia’s eyes instantly welled up, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, Summer. I didn’t know this ring was so important to you.” “Ethan, let’s go. I don’t want it anymore.” Ethan protectively put his arm around Sophia’s shoulder. He turned to me, his eyes filled with utter disgust. “Summer Lynn, why have you become so petty and mean-spirited?” “You truly disappoint me.” With that, he shielded Sophia and walked out of the studio without looking back. I watched their retreating backs and suddenly burst out laughing. Laughing until tears streamed down my face. Petty and mean-spirited? For him, I had turned myself into a soulless puppet. In the end, in his eyes, I was just a jealous woman who wouldn’t even give a ring to his first love.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “429583”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Chloe and I had been together for seven years. For seven years, we crammed into a tiny rental apartment, pinching pennies until we finally saved enough for the down payment on the beachfront condo we had our eyes on—our future marital home. On the day we were supposed to sign the contract, she didn’t show up. She sent me a text, saying Ethan had been in a car accident, and she needed to be with him at the hospital. We’d sign the house papers next week. Then she added one last line. “Don’t overthink it. I just see him as a little brother.” I stared at the screen for three minutes, then replied with just one word: “Okay.” I immediately turned around, walked into the sales office with my bank card, and paid the full amount for the condo instead of just the down payment. The deed only had my name on it. As I walked out of the sales office, I happened to scroll past a new post from Ethan. He wrote: “When I was most scared, she was the first one there. The hospital’s disinfectant smell is awful, but with her here, I feel so much peace.” The accompanying picture showed Chloe leaning in to drape a jacket over him, their shoulders touching, an intimacy that was glaring. My finger paused, then I liked the post and left a comment: “You two look good together. She’s all yours from now on.”

“Liam, are you out of your mind? You liked his post? And commented ‘happily ever after’?” Ryan snatched my phone, his voice trembling with anger. “Don’t you know Ethan’s post was deliberately designed to piss you off? He’s declaring war on you!” I took my phone back from Ryan and pressed the screen dark. “I know.” Ryan froze. He stared at me, as if he didn’t recognize me, then slumped onto the sales office sofa. “Then you’re just going to let him walk all over you? Chloe’s such an airhead; doesn’t she know what today is? It’s the down payment for your new home! That’s the place you two have been looking at for a whole year!” “Ryan, do me a favor.” “Tell me, are we going to the hospital to confront that couple? I’ll go get the car right now!” “No.” I shook my head, pulling the purchase contract from my bag. “Come with me to the bank. I need to make a large transfer.” Ryan’s eyes lit up: “You’re going to pay the down payment yourself? Not putting her name on it?” “Not the down payment.” I looked at the blank space on the contract where two names were supposed to go. “The full amount. I’m buying it alone.” Ryan’s expression shifted from shock to a complex silence. He didn’t ask anything else, just clapped me firmly on the shoulder. At ten that night, Chloe’s text finally popped up, slow as ever. “Liam, Ethan’s calmed down, just minor scrapes. I’ll treat you to a big dinner tomorrow to make it up to you.” “I’ll definitely take time off next week to go with you for the house stuff. I’ve already told the agent.” “Go to bed early. Don’t overthink it.” There were those words again. Don’t overthink it. For seven years, every time she flaked on me for Ethan, or put me second for Ethan, the ending was always those light, airy words. As if all my anger and dissatisfaction were due to my narrow-mindedness, and not because she lacked boundaries. I replied: “Okay.” She instantly sent back a hug emoji. I tossed my phone onto the sofa and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Her electric toothbrush was still on the counter, next to the women’s facial cleanser she’d just unsealed yesterday. I grabbed a trash bag and swept in her toothbrush, facial cleanser, makeup remover, and the towel she kept at my place. Ryan leaned against the bathroom doorframe, watching me. “Liam, are you serious this time?” I didn’t turn around. I pulled a few of her jackets from the balcony and folded them into a cardboard box. “A month ago, I submitted a transfer request to head office for the European branch. Back then, I just wanted a change of scenery. But today, I truly don’t want her anymore.” “Because of that post?” “Because this morning, before she left, she poured me a warm glass of honey water.” Ryan didn’t understand: “What’s wrong with that?” “Last week, Ethan said his stomach had been bothering him recently and he needed honey water every morning. But she forgot that honey gives me severe stomach cramps.” I covered my faintly aching stomach and forced a smile. In college, I’d mistakenly eaten honey and had such acute stomach cramps I was writhing in pain in bed. She was the one who took me to the infirmary. Later, she remembered honey water was good for Ethan’s stomach, but forgot that honey would make me miserable. Ryan fell silent. The tape on the cardboard box made a harsh tearing sound. I sealed the box and brushed the dust from my hands. I didn’t say anything more. I just felt that seven-year mark, at this moment, had become utterly ridiculous.

The next morning, the agent from the sales office called. “Mr. King, your full payment has been processed. The contract is finalized, and the property now entirely belongs to you.” “Okay, thank you.” “And Ms. Chloe…” “Don’t worry about her. I paid for it, I signed the contract. It has nothing to do with her.” After hanging up, Ryan handed me an iced Americano. “Does Chloe know you have this much money?” “No. She thought my salary these past few years all went to daily expenses.” “Then this money…” “I started taking on freelance design gigs right after college, pulling countless all-nighters to save it up. I’d originally planned to keep it for her to start a business after we got married.” Ryan heavily thumped his coffee cup on the table: “Liam, how much have you actually poured into her these past seven years?” I opened my budgeting app on my phone and showed him. Her Mercedes. Her parents paid the down payment, and she thought the monthly car payment was only five thousand. It was actually eight thousand. I secretly transferred the remaining three thousand into her account every month. She loved photography. That forty-five-thousand-dollar Hasselblad camera? She thought it was a prize from a brand giveaway. But I’d actually bought it with a month’s salary and conspired with the brand manager to stage the whole thing. Last month, her mom was hospitalized, short thirty thousand for surgery. Chloe was frantic. I didn’t hesitate to cover the cost. Later, her mom held Ethan’s hand and said, “Ethan is such a thoughtful child, coming to visit me every day.” I stood outside the hospital room, holding the homemade soup I’d carefully prepared, listening to the joyful laughter inside, then turned and threw the soup into the trash. And on my birthday, Chloe gave me a cheap belt, saying that since we were getting married, practical gifts were the most important. The more Ryan read, the deeper his frown became. Taken individually, these might have just been small frustrations. But seven years of accumulating grievances had long since suffocated me. At noon, Chloe sent a text. “Liam, what do you want for lunch? I’ll pick you up.” “I neglected you yesterday, so I’ll spend the whole day with you today.” I replied: “No thanks, Ryan and I are out.” She instantly replied: “What about tonight? I booked your favorite restaurant.” My favorite restaurant. The last time I’d gone there was three years ago. But in those three years, she’d taken Ethan there no less than five times. I’d even seen check-in photos of that restaurant on Ethan’s social media, with the man wearing the suit I’d bought sitting across from him. “I’m busy tonight too. I have plans.” Two minutes later, her call came in. “Liam, are you still mad?” Her tone carried a hint of helpless amusement, as if she were coaxing a temperamental child. “No. I really have plans.” “What could be more important than having dinner with me?” she retorted with a laugh, her voice filled with certainty. She was certain I couldn’t leave her, certain I’d always wait for her. I looked at the property registry confirmation text I’d just received on my phone and said calmly, “I’m getting my property deed.”

Dead silence on the other end of the line. After a full five seconds, she let out a dry laugh: “What kind of joke are you playing with me?” “No joke. I bought the condo, full payment. With only my name on it.” “Liam!” Her voice instantly rose, carrying an unsuppressed anger. “Are you done making a scene?” I didn’t speak. “Just because I didn’t go yesterday? Didn’t I explain it to you? Ethan was traumatized by the car accident. What’s wrong with me, as his friend, going to be with him? Do you really have to make such a big deal out of nothing?” “Yes, I know. So I bought it myself. You don’t need to trouble yourself.” “You… you just wait. I’m coming to find you right now!” She hung up. Ryan looked at me, raising an eyebrow: “Did she freak out?” I tossed my phone back into my bag, finding that my heartbeat was surprisingly steady. At three in the afternoon, Chloe burst into the coffee shop where Ryan and I were. She was panting, sweat beading on her forehead, and when she looked at me, her eyes were filled with disbelief. “Liam, say what you just said again?” “I said, I bought the condo, full payment, my name only.” She slammed her hand on the table, making everyone around them turn their heads. “Where did you get that much money? Are you insane? That was supposed to be our marital home. What right do you have to decide alone?” “It’s my money, of course I can decide.” I took a sip of my coffee. “As for a marital home, now it’s just *my* home.” Chloe took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She pulled out a chair and sat down, reaching out to take my hand, but I pulled it away. She awkwardly withdrew her hand, her tone softening: “Liam, I know you’re upset about yesterday. But this condo is where we’re supposed to live together. How am I supposed to explain this to my parents if you do this?” She wasn’t worried about me being wronged, but about not being able to explain it to her parents. “No need to explain.” I looked at her. “Chloe, I’ve been considering something recently.” “What is it?” “Something about work.” She visibly relaxed, her tense shoulders slumping. She even managed a slight smile. “You scared me. I thought you were going to call off the wedding!” Her tone when she said that was so light it was almost cruel. As if the idea of “Liam leaving Chloe” was a wild fantasy. “Oh, right.” She pulled a delicate little velvet box from her pocket and pushed it across the table to me. “These are cufflinks I bought for you when I passed the mall. Consider it an apology. Ethan said this style really suits your temperament.” I looked at the box, not touching it. “Ethan picked them out for you?” “Yeah, he has good taste. He also said he felt bad about taking up your time yesterday and insisted I get you a gift.” I opened the box. Inside was a pair of silver cufflinks. They looked familiar. I opened Ethan’s social media. Three days ago, he’d posted an update: “I love these cufflinks so much, but they’re too expensive. I’ll come pick them up next payday.” The accompanying picture was of these very cufflinks. I pushed the box back. “I don’t like them. You should give them to him.” Chloe’s face changed: “Liam, don’t be ungrateful. I’m humbling myself to appease you, and you have to be so sarcastic?” “I’m not being sarcastic. I just think that since he likes them, they’d be more suitable for you to give to him.” I stood up and picked up my bag. “I have something to do. I’m leaving.” “Liam!” she called after me. “If you walk out that door today, don’t expect me to ever try to appease you again!” I didn’t look back. I pushed open the coffee shop door and walked out into the dazzling sunlight.

Wednesday afternoon, I was finalizing the transfer handover checklist at work. Ethan posted an update visible only to me. In the photo, he was wearing those cufflinks, smiling smugly. The caption read: “Someone always remembers the little things you say. Thanks for the gift.” I expressionlessly screenshotted it and saved it into an album named “Decluttering.” That album already contained dozens of screenshots. Late-night takeout orders she’d placed for Ethan. Jackets she’d lent to Ethan. Their backs as they secretly held hands, away from the crowd, during a company team-building event. Ryan said I was torturing myself. But I wasn’t. It was my reality check. Whenever I thought of the past seven years, and felt even the slightest hesitation, I would flip through that album. After seeing it, my heart would turn completely cold. Before leaving work, Chloe sent a text. “I have a dinner engagement tonight. You don’t have to wait up for me.” I replied: “Okay.” Before, if she said she had a dinner engagement, I would always stay up waiting for her, prepare hangover soup, and help her take off her alcohol-soaked jacket. Now, I just wanted to go to bed early. At eleven that night, my phone vibrated. It was a call from Chloe. “Liam…” Her voice was slurred; she was clearly drunk. “What is it?” “I… I’m at The Lure Bar. Can you come pick me up? I’m so dizzy…” The background was noisy, but I clearly heard a man’s voice. “Chloe, slow down. I’ll help you.” It was Ethan. I said calmly, “Since Ethan’s there, let him take you home.” “No! I want you to pick me up! You’re my fiancé!” she shouted into the phone like a spoiled child. “I’m really tired. I’m already asleep.” I hung up the phone directly and turned it off. When I turned it back on the next morning, over a dozen missed calls popped up on the screen, along with messages from Chloe on SnapChat. “Liam, you’ve changed. You never used to ignore me.” “I threw up the whole way home last night, and Ethan took care of me all night.” “What are you even mad about?” I looked at those messages and found them utterly ridiculous. I’ve changed? Yes, I finally stopped being her on-call, boundary-less nanny. I didn’t reply to her. Instead, I opened the email from HR. “Appointment Notice Regarding Liam King’s Transfer to Director of European Branch.” Effective date: The tenth of next month. I confirmed receipt. Less than twenty days until I leave this city, and this person.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “429582”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I stood by James for four years, helping him fight for revenge after his Pack was destroyed. Yet, at the celebratory banquet, he proposed to my half-sister, Olivia. He told me, “That special status is only for Olivia. You? You were just my most obedient tool.” Olivia deliberately stumbled and framed me for causing her miscarriage. Then she had someone inject me with poison. He witnessed it all but chose to believe her, not me. It wasn’t until the mate Ceremony, when the surveillance video of the truth played, that her malicious self-staged act was thoroughly exposed. James was shattered with regret, begging me to come back to him. But I simply linked arms with my fated mate, Alpha Ethan, and smiled faintly. “James, it’s too late.” Emma Wilson POV The Mooncrest Pack was invaded, and James fled in a desperate escape with his core members. Everyone said the powerful Pack was gone forever, but I was the only one who stood by James and fought with him. I believed he could rise again, that he could exact his revenge and reclaim the Pack. Four years later, he proved me right. James not only defeated the invaders but, with his immense strength, elevated the Mooncrest Pack to an even stronger position than before. After four years, he once again stood at the pinnacle of power, unrivaled. Everyone marveled, saying James was truly a genius Alpha, unlike any other. “Emma, your hardships are finally over.” My best friend, Sophie Miller, called, her voice full of joy. “I heard James is proposing at the celebration banquet tonight. Such a big deal. Did he drop any hints?” James was proposing at the celebration banquet tonight? My heart skipped a beat. I knew about the celebration banquet; it was a dinner to mark the Mooncrest Pack’s successful reclaiming of its territory. Many members from other Packs were invited. It was a grand announcement of the Mooncrest Pack’s return and James’s alpha status. But a proposal… he’d planned this in secret? “He didn’t tell me. Maybe he wants to surprise me,” I said, a smile I couldn’t hide blooming on my lips. “Alright, I can’t talk now. I’m picking up his gift.” I hung up and took the deep blue velvet box from the clerk. Inside was a pair of cufflinks, two perfectly cut black diamonds set on a platinum base. These cufflinks were a special, custom-made gift I’d commissioned for James to celebrate his successful revenge. But I hadn’t expected him to propose at this celebration banquet. Thinking of it, my heart was wrapped in a warm, sweet sensation. I put the box away, about to leave the jewelry store, when suddenly, a familiar voice drifted from behind a pillar nearby. “Are the items ready?” It was James. “They’re ready. This ring was custom-made according to the design you personally provided and the measurements. Please take a look.” His design? So, for tonight’s proposal, he’d even personally designed the ring. He truly wanted to surprise me tonight, just as I wanted to surprise him. My heart felt even sweeter, and my anticipation for tonight’s banquet grew. I was debating whether to go over and greet him when I heard the calm, smiling voice of Charlie Green, James’s friend and now his Beta. “When Olivia sees this ring you custom-designed for her, I wonder if she will be more delighted or surprised?” I froze, like a nail suddenly hammered into place, my mind a sudden blank. Olivia. My half-sister. Charlie sounded curious. “You specifically invited Olivia to tonight’s celebration, but Emma will be there too. Aren’t you worried she will see you propose to another woman and cause a scene?” The air seemed to still for a moment. Then, I heard James speak in a tone so calm it was almost indifferent. “She won’t know. I’ll find a reason to keep her from showing up.” Charlie sighed. “Four years ago, when the Pack was invaded, everyone thought we were finished. Only Emma believed in you. She endured four years of hardship with us, gave up her job and her life to help you, and even sold her grandmother’s sapphire necklace to buy supplies… Does all that still not compare to Olivia, who saved your life when you were young?” “During the toughest times, Emma was willing to follow me. She was indeed very good to me.” James was silent for a few seconds, then spoke slowly, his voice low. “I can give her anything, but Olivia not only saved me, she’s also my fated mate…” Charlie let out a sigh. “Alright, since you’ve already made up your mind, I won’t say anything more.” Footsteps quickly receded from behind me. I gripped the cold jewelry counter, my fingertips trembling, my blood freezing in an instant. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. My phone vibrated then, a message from James. “Emma, many Pack members will be at the celebration banquet tonight. You always dislike those large shifter gatherings, don’t you? Would you mind waiting for me at home? I’ll come back to you once the banquet is over.” I stared at the words, a chill spreading from deep within me. He didn’t know that I disliked shifter gatherings only because I didn’t want to run into members of the Silvermoon Pack. But these past few years, to help him, hadn’t I interacted with various Packs enough? Slowly, I lifted my stiff fingers and sent a reply: “Okay.”

Emma Wilson POV Perhaps it was the last shred of hope I still held for him, but I simply couldn’t believe that James would truly propose to another woman. Even less could I believe that the woman he was going to propose to was my half-sister. In the end, I still went to the Packhouse where the celebration was being held. It was easy for me to avoid anyone who might recognize me. I sprayed myself with perfume to mask my scent and changed into a maid’s uniform. The banquet hall was crowded. James was wearing the outfit I’d picked out for him that morning. He stood tall, chatting effortlessly, his eyes sparkling with renewed ambition. Olivia wore a shimmering silver mermaid-cut gown, her makeup exquisite and tasteful, one hand held firmly by James. The two walked in side-by-side from the entrance, heading towards the center of the venue under everyone’s gaze. My eyes fixated on Olivia. A distinct, dark red hickey was visible on her neck, just above her collarbone. And on the ring finger of the hand James was holding, a diamond ring sparkled, reflecting dazzling light under the chandeliers. James raised his glass and began to speak. “Welcome, all of you, to witness the return of the Mooncrest Pack. Four years ago, our Pack was invaded, my father was killed, and we lost everything. But today, we have not only successfully avenged ourselves and reclaimed what is ours.” He paused, his gaze turning to Olivia beside him, his voice filled with unprecedented solemnity. “I have also found my fated mate.” He took her hand, raising it high so everyone could see the ring on her finger. “Her name is Olivia Parker.” He looked at the woman beside him, her cheeks faintly flushed. “Without her, perhaps I wouldn’t be standing here today.” The entire hall erupted in enthusiastic applause and cheers, people raising their glasses in congratulation. “Congratulations, Alpha Anderson!” “A fated mate! How wonderful!” I stood in the shadows, watching the couple embrace, watching them accept the blessings and adoration of the crowd. My nails dug deep into my palms, but I felt no pain. So, all this time, for four years, Olivia was the most important person to him, and without her, there would be no James today? What about me? What did all my years of companionship and sacrifice count for? A foolish joke? I tried to smile, but the curve of my lips was purely bitter. I didn’t rush out, didn’t make a scene to disrupt the meticulously planned proposal ceremony. Instead, I quietly turned and left the ceremony that wasn’t mine. The April night wind felt chilling. I walked aimlessly through the town streets, like a ghost. After an unknown amount of time, a wedding dress shop display caught my eye. The pristine white wedding gowns on the mannequins looked like an unreal dream under the warm yellow lights. The floodgates of memory suddenly opened. I remembered one of our most desperate times, when James and I passed a high-end bridal shop, and I couldn’t help but glance at the dresses. James noticed my longing for a wedding gown, squeezed my hand tightly, and said, “Emma, I’m sorry, I can’t give you anything right now. But someday, I’ll personally buy you a unique wedding dress and make you the most beautiful, happiest bride in the world.” At that moment, the light in his eyes was so bright and genuine. So I believed him, and I was willing to sacrifice everything for it. But now, he had put a ring he personally designed on another woman’s finger. Yes, he only said he would buy me a unique wedding dress and make me the happiest bride, but he never said he would make me his most beautiful bride. An uncontrollable ache bloomed in my chest again, tears blurring my vision. My trust in him had become a colossal joke. Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was an unsaved number, but one I knew well. I intended to hang up, but the moment my finger touched the screen, I hesitated. Then, I took a deep breath, masking my emotions, and answered, “Hello?” “Ms. Wilson, I apologize for calling so late, but we genuinely admire your abilities. Our Alpha sincerely invites you to join us, and he said he would agree to any conditions you propose. Are you truly not reconsidering?” This wasn’t the first time they’d called, extending an offer. This time, I suddenly no longer wanted to refuse them for James’s sake. I was silent for a moment. “Alright, I accept your offer to join you.” The person on the other end was clearly surprised by my decisiveness this time. “Really?” “Give me some time to handle things on my end.”

Emma Wilson POV I returned to the house James and I currently shared. He knew I wasn’t comfortable living in the Packhouse, so he bought this apartment in town for me. Thinking about it now, he never truly considered me a Pack member, did he? I placed the gift box containing the cufflinks on the shoe cabinet and went back to the bedroom. I barely slept until dawn. The next morning, as I was about to leave, I noticed the gift box on the shoe cabinet remained untouched. Clearly, James hadn’t returned all night. I stared at it for a few seconds, then left it undisturbed and walked out the door. News of James’s proposal had already spread like wildfire. “Emma!” The moment I stepped into the bar, Sophie Miller rushed towards me, angry, pulling me aside without a word. “What’s going on? How could James propose to Olivia? Has he lost his mind? And who even is Olivia, where did she come from?” Sophie was a friend I’d met while working at the bar, and also a shifter. But unlike me, she had her parents’ permission to leave her Pack and come here. I, on the other hand, had secretly escaped. Besides Charlie, only Sophie knew about my relationship with James. I was about to answer her when Charlie Green suddenly burst in. “Emma, Alpha James would like you to see him.” I patted Sophie’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll tell you later.” At the Alpha’s house in the Packhouse, Charlie announced at the door, “James, Emma’s here.” “Emma.” James took a few quick steps to take my hand, leading me into the room. His tone was apologetic. “I was too tired last night, so I just slept here and couldn’t come back to you. Did you eat on time this morning? You’re not mad at me, are you?” I didn’t know if he was really too drunk to come back, or if he just chose to stay at the Packhouse. I didn’t want to ask. I gently pulled my hand away and handed him the resignation letter I held in my other hand. “If you’re worried about me being angry, then just sign this.” In truth, James had never acknowledged any other identity for me. To him, I was perhaps just a trainer, a healer, or some other tool. But whatever I was, I had decided to leave now. “What’s this?” James took it curiously, then looked up at me in surprise after seeing the contents. “You’re leaving?” “Yes.” I offered no further explanation. James seemed confused as to why I was suddenly leaving, but seeing my calm expression, which didn’t suggest a tantrum, his face relaxed. “Of course. You’ve been with me for four years without a proper day of rest. Now that the Pack is back on track, it’s only right for you to get some good rest.” He smiled. “After all, I can give you anything now.” He picked up the pen from the table and signed the approval section. “There. Hand this to Charlie. Someone else will take over the development of the ointment and the training of the shifters.” Handing the paper back to me, his tone was light. “I’ll take you out to lunch. What do you want to eat?” “James!” Before I could speak, Charlie burst into the room. He came to James’s side and whispered, “Olivia says she needs to see you. She’s at the entrance.” James’s expression shifted slightly. He turned to me and said, “Emma, something urgent just came up. I need to step out for a moment.” He didn’t even wait for my answer, just grabbed his jacket from the chair and rushed out of the room. Watching his retreating back, I clenched the paper in my hand. Originally, I just wanted to live in an unfamiliar place, so I came to this town and applied for a bartender job at a local bar. But I didn’t expect to meet James. He was a regular at the bar, and the Alpha heir of the Mooncrest Pack. I fell irresistibly in love with him, even though he wasn’t my fated mate. I picked up the combat skills I’d abandoned, started trying to regain my strength, hoping to be worthy of James. Later, when the Mooncrest Pack was invaded, I carried my love and courage for him, accompanying him to a remote hideout. We huddled in that small space, gathering strength for revenge. We defeated enemies who came after us, tried various ways to earn money for supplies… Those nights fighting side-by-side, our combined efforts, forged into a burning fire of revenge that transformed the Mooncrest Pack and brought it back into the spotlight. I thought that after these four years of companionship, I had found a place in his heart. But in the end, he still chose Olivia. The pain in my chest spread. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and put away the paper. Stepping out, the sunlight was a bit dazzling. I squinted, and suddenly saw James carefully helping Olivia into a car by the roadside. He then quickly rounded to the driver’s seat and got in. “James?” Sophie, who had come looking for me, was furious and about to storm over. “What does he mean? What does he take you for? I’m going to find out!”

Emma Wilson POV I hastily pulled back Sophie, who was about to rush forward. “No need. There’s no need to ask him.” “What do you mean, no need?” Sophie was both angry and anxious, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Emma, you gave him so much! How could he treat you like this?” I couldn’t answer her, just smiled faintly. “Come have a drink with me.” Sophie looked at me, understanding that beneath my calm exterior, I was heartbroken. Her anger was replaced by concern. “Let’s go! I’ll drink with you all you want today!” In the noisy bar, I drank glass after glass. The burning liquid slid down my throat, searing my stomach, but it couldn’t warm my slowly chilling heart. After an unknown number of drinks, I got up to go to the restroom. I leaned against the sink, looking at my reflection. Red-rimmed eyes. Disheveled. I tried to smile, but couldn’t. As I exited the restroom, a figure stumbled into me, nearly knocking me over. I frowned, stepped back, and looked up to see Ben Carter, another friend of James’s. He looked like he’d had a lot to drink, his face flushed from the alcohol. “Isn’t that Emma?” Ben squinted, recognizing me. He slapped me hard on the shoulder. “Here to find James, right? Come on, come on, he’s inside, I’ll take you!” Before I could refuse, Ben dragged me around the corner and to the door of a private room. “James, look who I brought!” Ben flung open the door, shouting with a triumphant air. The laughter inside the room instantly died. Everyone’s gaze turned towards us. There were seven or eight people inside, all close friends of James, and Charlie Green was there too. James sat on the central sofa, with Olivia, dressed in an exquisite dress, sitting closely beside him. At this moment, James’s hand was still holding Olivia’s. They looked very intimate. Time seemed to freeze at that moment. James’s smile stiffened. The others exchanged glances, and the atmosphere instantly turned cold. Ben belatedly realized what was happening. He slapped his forehead, his drunkenness momentarily scared away, stammering, “Uh, no, that… Emma, I…” Before he could finish, I turned without a word and walked away. “Emma!” James’s face changed. He quickly rose and chased after me. In the hallway, James grabbed my wrist, pulling me back and forcing me to face him. “Emma, why are you here? And why are you turning around and leaving?” I looked up at him. “If I stayed there, wouldn’t the atmosphere be awkward for you?” James was silent for a moment before saying, “Did someone tell you something?” “Do I need to be told?” I laughed bitterly. “You proposed to Olivia. All your friends know. The Pack is buzzing about it. You never even intended to hide it. You were just waiting for me to leave on my own, weren’t you?” “That’s not what you think!” James interrupted me, eager to explain. “Olivia is the daughter of a prominent Silvermoon Pack Alpha. She saved my life once, and these past four years, she’s used her Silvermoon Pack connections to get me a lot of support. She’s even made enemies because of it. I owe her too much.” “So what? What does that have to do with me?” “She’s my fated mate. I can’t abandon her.” He grasped my shoulders with both hands. “But Emma, I still love you. As long as you don’t mind her presence, nothing between us has to change. It can be just like before.” I was stunned, completely incredulous. “So you’re saying you want me to be the other woman in your mate bond with someone else?” James’s expression faltered. He wanted to defend himself, but his words were cut off by a sudden voice. “James, what are you doing out here?” Olivia gracefully approached us.

Emma Wilson POV Hearing her voice, James quickly composed himself, releasing his hands from my shoulders. Noticing his action, I couldn’t help but curve my lips into a mocking smile. Standing beside us, Olivia’s gaze darted between us, finally asking him curiously, “James, aren’t you going to introduce me?” James frowned, his throat bobbed. He looked a bit unnatural as he said, “She’s Emma. A Pack warrior. A healer.” Hearing his introduction, I found it absurd and laughable. Four years of shared hardship, four years of unreserved sacrifice, and in the end, in his words, I was just a healer. James avoided my gaze, turning to ask Olivia, “Why did you come out here?” Olivia pouted playfully, “I saw you run out, thought something was wrong, and wanted to check.” With that, she naturally linked arms with James. James’s body stiffened for a moment. He looked at me hesitantly, his lips moving as if to say something. But I wouldn’t give him the chance to speak. I turned my back and left without looking back. After leaving the bar, I didn’t return to the town apartment. Instead, I went to the hideout where James and I had lived for four years. It was a mountain villa a little further from town, purchased by James’s father. It was remote enough not to be discovered by enemies, but close enough to monitor the situation at the Packhouse. So we lived there. Though most of the time, to avoid being found by patrolling shifters, we hid in the basement. Unlocking the door with a key, a scent of old times rushed in. The hideout wasn’t large, only one story, but it was filled with our tough yet sweet memories. I remembered one time, James held me from behind, his chin resting on my head, whispering, “Emma, I’ve put you through so much living here. Someday, I’ll give you the best of everything in the world.” Later, on the night James organized the revenge operation to reclaim the Pack, when he asked what I wanted, I only asked for this villa. Because this place held great sentimental value for me. So James gave it to me, and the keys remained with me. Now, it seemed, this sentiment was more like a sarcastic joke. I curled up on the old sofa in the living room for a night. This was my last time mourning our past. The next day, I contacted an agent and put the villa up for sale. “The price is negotiable. My only request is to complete the transfer of ownership as quickly as possible.” “Understood.” The agent was very efficient, quickly arriving to take photos and assess the property. After all that was done, I was about to leave when I saw an unexpected figure. Olivia leaned against a white sports car, seemingly having waited for a long time. I didn’t want to see her at all, and was about to leave, when Olivia suddenly greeted me proactively, “I heard you and James lived here for four years, so this place must mean a lot to you, right?” My footsteps stopped. I slowly turned to face her. “What do you want?” Olivia looked down, gently caressing the ring on her ring finger, her expression smug. “Even though you and James went through a lot together, it’s a shame the Moon Goddess arranged me as his mate. I’ll soon be the Luna of the Mooncrest Pack.” “Well, congratulations then,” I replied indifferently. “Wishing you both happiness in advance. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.” “Emma, didn’t you expect this yourself? You spent four difficult years with him, but still lost to me?” An ache pulsed in my chest, but I suddenly laughed. “You’ve always liked to snatch things from me since we were kids. Now that you’re grown, you’re snatching my man. What’s so surprising about that? After all, you and your mother, Maggie, both love to steal other people’s men.” Seeing Olivia’s suddenly enraged eyes, I couldn’t help but feel a deep irony. James never knew that I was once the Alpha heir of the Silvermoon Pack. But after my mother passed away, my father, Robert, brought Olivia and her mother into our home, and we lived together. Olivia always tried to take everything from me growing up, and Robert always favored Olivia, making me give in again and again. So, as an adult, I left the Silvermoon Pack and cut ties with them. “Olivia, you’re so proud of picking up my cast-offs. Don’t you find it disgusting?” I finished my sarcastic remark and turned to leave. “Stop! What do you mean ‘cast-offs’?” Olivia, enraged, rushed over and grabbed me. “You just couldn’t win against me! You lost!” I sneered. “I lost to you?” Olivia gritted her teeth, then suddenly let out a cold laugh. “This time, I’m going to make you lose even more thoroughly!” Suddenly, before I could react, Olivia grabbed my hand and forcefully pushed it against herself. Then, Olivia staggered backward, her back slamming hard against the car, letting out a pained scream. To anyone watching, it clearly looked like I had forcefully pushed her to the ground. “Olivia!!!”

Emma Wilson POV A sharp pain shot through my shoulder as a man, rushing forward, slammed into me, sending me back two steps. By the time I managed to steady myself, I saw James cradling Olivia in his arms. “Olivia, are you alright? Where did you fall?” James’s voice was filled with a panic I had never heard before. He hadn’t even stopped to think: how could an Alpha’s daughter be so easily harmed? But then again, perhaps that was the power of a fated mate. I sneered, stepping back. If this was how it was, then I truly needed to step aside. Just then, Olivia began to wail. “My stomach… my stomach hurts so much…” Olivia looked to be in extreme pain, fine beads of cold sweat on her forehead. James followed her gaze and saw a patch of dark red blood flowing down her upper thigh. I saw it too. That jarring red, like a bolt of lightning, struck my mind, leaving it suddenly blank. “James, save… save our baby…” Olivia clutched James’s arm, crying, looking at him. “You have to save our baby…” “Okay, okay, don’t talk. I’ll take you for treatment!” James scooped Olivia up and rushed to his car like a madman, not even sparing me a glance. I stood rooted to the spot, stunned. A baby? They actually had a baby? I hesitated, but still followed them back to the Packhouse. At the clinic. The healer emerged from the treatment room, her expression grim. James immediately went up to her. “How is she?” “I’m very sorry. She had a miscarriage. We’ve treated her, and the mother is out of danger.” “A miscarriage…” James’s tall frame swayed. Then, he slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on me in the corner. His eyes were as cold as daggers. As if questioning me, why did you do that? I opened my mouth to speak, but just then, hurried footsteps approached. As I started to turn towards the newcomer, a resounding slap landed hard on my face. My cheek instantly throbbed painfully, my ears rang, and my head was snapped to the side. I tasted a hint of blood. Seeing this, James rushed over. “Robert, what are you doing?” “James, you don’t need to get involved! This is our family’s business!” “What?” Robert didn’t explain James’s confusion. Instead, he glowered at me. “Emma, how could you be so vicious? That’s your sister, and she was pregnant! How could you do such a thing?!” I clutched my swollen, red cheek, looking at my biological father, the man I shared blood with. I said coldly, “I didn’t push her. She deliberately fell to frame me.” “You dare to argue?!” Robert trembled with rage. “Olivia has always been kind and thoughtful, but you! You’ve always been selfish since you were a child, always fighting with Olivia for everything, and you’ve laid hands on Olivia more than once or twice. I think you just don’t want to see your sister happy!” “I’m selfish, I like to fight with her, I don’t want her to be happy?” Yes, Robert was always like this. In his eyes, Olivia was always kind and thoughtful. And I, Emma, was always the immature, narrow-minded one. It was always Olivia who liked to snatch my things, always Olivia who provoked me with her words, but in the end, it was always my fault. He never listened to my explanations, never gave me justice. Maggie cried, heartbroken, to Robert, “Olivia lost her baby because of her, and she’s still trying to argue. As their father, shouldn’t you do something for Olivia?” “Since she’s still so malicious, then send her back to the Silvermoon Pack to face punishment!” Robert said, cold and resolute, ordering the warriors behind him, “Take her back, lock her up, and keep a close eye on her!” A warrior stepped forward to restrain me, but I said coldly, “Back off. I’ll go myself.” I knew nothing I said would matter. No one would believe me. But before I was led away, I couldn’t help but look at James. I heard my dry voice ask, “And you? You don’t believe I didn’t push her, either?” James frowned. He said, “I saw you push her with my own eyes. How do you expect me to believe you?” I looked at him and suddenly laughed. My eyes held no warmth, only the coldness of utter disappointment. James, I really don’t love you anymore.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “429581”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

At the intermission of the concert, when the lights dimmed, Ethan Vance’s hand on mine slowly slipped away. I stayed in the front row and watched him walk into the side corridor. He found Chloe Davis there. He cupped her face, leaned down, and kissed her. Applause rose around us. Someone nearby said, “Mr. Vance and Mrs. Vance really do have a strong marriage.” Another voice followed, “Even after all these years, they’re still so sweet.” I stood up and pushed through the crowd. I walked right up behind them and tapped his shoulder. Ethan Vance turned. I lifted my left hand into the light. The missing knuckles on my fingers were exposed for everyone to see. “You’ve got the wrong person.” The applause died midair. “I’m June. I am your wife.” June Abbott POV Even my own mother couldn’t stand the sight of my imperfect left hand. But it was the distinguished Ethan Vance who, under everyone’s gaze, took that very hand. We got married in just one month. My family, the Abbotts, had raised me for twenty-four years, always terrified of anyone seeing my left hand with its missing ring finger. No matter how pale my skin was, it couldn’t hide that glaring flaw. The guy I was supposed to marry, the one my parents had set me up with, was sitting in our living room. He was there to break things off. One moment, he was praising my gentle nature. The next, he saw my left hand offering him tea, and he flinched, not even taking the cup. From that day on, Mom wouldn’t even let me serve tea. “Just sit still. Don’t move.” Mom roughly pulled my sleeve down, her voice a hushed whisper. “Don’t make people feel unlucky the moment they walk in.” I got used to shrinking into corners. At the music shop, I used my right hand for writing, my right hand for turning sheet music. My left hand was always clenched tightly in my lap, hidden in my sleeve. If anyone glanced at it, I wanted to hide it behind my back. Until that night at the charity concert. I was still sitting in the most inconspicuous corner. On stage, Ethan had just finished his last piece. Applause roared like a tide. Countless dignitaries and socialites, clutching flowers, waited for him in the aisles. Ethan elegantly rose to bow, but he didn’t take flowers from anyone. He walked through the crowd, heading straight for the most secluded spot. Under the astonished gazes of others, that tall figure stopped in front of me. I panicked, clenching my left hand so tightly my nails dug deep into my flesh. But Ethan slowly bent down. His warm palm covered my cold hand, gently, irresistibly, one by one, unfolding my curled, deformed fingers. The glaring spotlights shone down, exposing the imperfection I most wanted to hide to everyone’s view. My breathing stopped completely. Anyone else would have frowned and looked away. But Ethan just bowed his head, his thumb gently stroking my missing knuckle. He looked for a very long time. He showed no disgust, nor did he let go. In that moment, I heard my own frantic heartbeat. So, in this world, there really was someone who could see my imperfection and was still willing to stand before me. A month later, I married him. Engagement, marriage registration, moving into the villa. It all happened so fast, like a dream. Before leaving, Mom adjusted my veil, her words as harsh as ever. “The Vances agreeing to take you is your good fortune. Once you’re married, don’t let that hand make you a nuisance.” Sitting in the wedding car, I looked at my left hand. The memory of Ethan gently unfolding it that night was all the courage I had to say yes. But the sweetness of our new marriage lasted only a few days. I soon realized that Ethan’s thoughtfulness was layered with an unyielding ice. At breakfast, I tried to reach for my cup with my left hand. Ethan saw me. He thoughtfully pushed the cup closer. But his fingers, brushing against the back of my hand, quickly recoiled. On walks, I tried to offer him my left hand. Ethan would take it, but his palm’s warmth was perfunctory. Once we crossed a street, he’d naturally let go. At the dining table, I placed my hand near his. He’d glance down at his documents, casually tap my fingertips as a response, then continue turning pages. He never initiated holding my hand. Every single time, I was the one who offered my imperfect left hand. He’d briefly hold it, like completing a task, then let go. I started having sleepless nights. I couldn’t help but recall that concert night. He had unfolded my hand, gazed at it for so long. But it turned out, he only ever unfolded it. He never truly held it tight. The villa’s temperature was certainly warm, yet I felt a chill seeping into my very bones. I stopped offering my hand, instead retreating it into my sleeve, just as I had in the Abbotts’ house. Ethan noticed my unusual behavior and, for once, actually asked, “Cold?” I numbly nodded. The next day, Ethan instructed the staff to turn up the underfloor heating by three degrees. He was still the impeccable, faultless husband, but my heart sank further with each passing day. Late that night, unable to sleep from anxiety, I went to his study to find him. The study door was ajar, only a dim desk lamp illuminating the room. Ethan sat with his back to the door, wearing headphones, his posture slightly hunched. I was about to push the door open, but through the crack, I saw something that froze my blood. Ethan, who was always composed and emotionally unreadable to the outside world, now sat with his eyes closed, tears silently streaming down his handsome face. One hand pressed tightly against his headphones, as if desperately trying to catch every subtle sound inside, looking both desperate and out of control. The headphones’ noise cancellation was good, but the room was too quiet. A very faint female voice still leaked out. “I can hear you.” In that instant, I felt like I was nailed to the spot, my fingertips turning icy cold. That wasn’t my voice. After so long of marriage, Ethan was always courteous and considerate towards me, never raising his voice, yet he also never showed the slightest emotional fluctuation towards me. All his pain, suppression, and loss of control, it turned out, were reserved for the woman in those headphones. I stiffly lowered my head, looking at my left hand, hidden in my sleeve. This hand, which he had publicly unfolded at the concert, which I had humbly offered countless times, and which he had politely and coldly released countless times. It turned out, what I thought was salvation was nothing more than a misunderstanding. I took a step back, shrinking my left hand deeper into my sleeve. Through the door crack, Ethan still sat with his eyes closed, the tear stains on his face gleaming coldly in the dim light. I retreated into the dark hallway, my loose sleeve falling, completely covering my imperfect left hand without a trace.

June Abbott POV I then hired someone to investigate. The investigation report quickly arrived. The paper envelope was thin, yet it felt like a thousand pounds in my hand. The private detective put the file down. Before leaving, he looked at me with a hesitant, sympathetic gaze. “Mrs. Vance, the latter part of the report… you should prepare yourself.” I sat alone in the silent room and broke the seal. The first page caught my eye. At the top, a name: Chloe Davis. I had heard that name. In Seattle’s socialite circles, Chloe Davis didn’t have a good reputation. Capricious, arrogant, and bullying. That was almost everyone’s assessment of her. But I didn’t know that Chloe and Ethan had been good friends since childhood. The report detailed an old incident: Years ago, on a rainy day, Ethan changed his piano practice location at the last minute. Chloe Davis ran out to chase his car and was hit by a truck at an intersection. Her life was saved, but due to brain damage, Chloe’s hearing severely deteriorated, almost to deafness. The sentences on the paper were cold. My fingertips dug fiercely into the edge of the page. I suddenly understood. That night, Ethan in the study, wearing headphones, crying as he listened to “I can hear you”… That wasn’t a declaration of love at all. That was the first thing Chloe Davis said to Ethan after her last rehabilitation surgery, when she regained her hearing. He had recorded it, treated it as salvation, as a treasure, punishing himself with it over and over again every night. I trembled as I flipped the page. After Chloe’s accident, Ethan frantically searched for doctors for her, contacted overseas rehabilitation centers, and all expenses were paid from his private account. Every year on Chloe’s birthday, the gifts he sent were the most exclusive custom-made hearing aids. Tucked into the report were a few photos. One showed Ethan standing at the entrance of a rehabilitation center, holding a precision instrument gift box. Another showed Chloe Davis in a wheelchair, her eyes red-rimmed, looking up at him. The last one was a dimly lit hospital corridor. The distinguished and extraordinary Ethan bent down slightly, his expression incredibly gentle and focused, patiently adjusting the hearing aid behind Chloe’s ear. His movements were so light, so practiced. I looked at the photos, my eyes stinging. I thought of my left hand, which I had offered countless times after marriage. He found even holding it for an extra second perfunctory, but it turned out he could be so careful and gentle when touching another woman. However, a deeper, more brutal despair lay in the latter half of the report. It was a doctor’s diagnosis and rehabilitation recommendation. “Patient Chloe Davis, after the car accident, suffers from severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Her psychological state is extremely fragile. It is recommended to keep her in a stable, routine relationship environment. Building a sense of family security by observing normal couple interactions can help reduce her fear of loneliness.” Below this sentence, a note in Ethan’s handwriting, penned in ink: “I need a quiet wife, preferably from a good background, emotionally stable, to maintain a long-term family setting.” “A quiet wife…” I murmured the words, tears abruptly splattering onto the paper. At this moment, I finally understood that charity concert completely. There was no divine intervention, no salvation. The reason Ethan walked towards me in the corner, under everyone’s gaze, wasn’t because he felt pity for my imperfect left hand, and certainly not because of love. It was because I was sufficiently insecure, sufficiently quiet. I had an imperfect hand, I had suffered neglect in the Abbotts’ household. Just a tiny flicker of light, and I would obediently stay in the position of Mrs. Vance. I was the perfect, faultless tool. Ethan needed a perfect marriage in name, an act for the psychologically fragile Chloe Davis to observe. He needed to use his seemingly happy family to heal another woman’s trauma. A low whimper escaped my throat. I began to tremble uncontrollably. The paper crumpled in my hands, my knuckles turning a horrifying white from the force. No wonder he wouldn’t touch me after we married. No wonder he found even holding my hand for an extra second a burden. Because this marriage, from beginning to end, was merely a meticulously planned scenario therapy. In this house, I was just a prop in a display window. Whether this prop was called June Abbott or another name, Ethan simply didn’t care. He never walked towards me. He merely chose my manageable insecurity at a time when I most longed for salvation. The room was deathly quiet, save for the faint sound of paper being crushed. Footsteps echoed from the hallway outside, a staff member passing by, then quickly fading away. I didn’t become hysterical, nor did I tear up the papers. I just gritted my teeth, held back my tears, and then, with my imperfect left hand, carefully straightened and smoothed out the scattered documents, page by page. The edges of the paper were sharp, cutting my fingertips and drawing tiny beads of blood, but I felt no pain. I put the documents back into the envelope and tucked it into the deepest part of the drawer. When I pushed the drawer shut, the wood caught for a moment. The corner of the page, the one about observing normal couple interactions, peeked out. I looked at it expressionlessly, then reached out and forcefully pushed the drawer all the way in. All my self-deception, I personally locked away in the darkness.

June Abbott POV I arranged to meet Ethan at the music shop three days after reading that investigation report. I didn’t ask about Chloe, nor about the “normal couple interaction model.” Asking wouldn’t change anything. I just wanted to try one more time, to put my left hand in front of him, to see if he would actually come over. The music shop wasn’t busy that afternoon. A few colleagues were organizing sheet music in the back. When Ethan walked in, I was already sitting at the piano by the window. He checked the time. “Something wrong?” I placed my left hand on the keys. That hand was naturally imperfect; it couldn’t play full chords. I’d practiced for many years, knowing how to avoid the empty spaces, how to make a one-handed piece sound less awkward. When the first note fell, the shop quieted a bit. Ethan stood behind me, his gaze on the keys. My left hand slowly moved between the black and white keys, the missing part of my finger always exposed. Each press required a little more force than for an average person. The piece was short. After the last note faded, my left hand remained on the keys. I looked up at Ethan. “Could you teach me to play a four-hand duet?” Ethan didn’t speak immediately. I finished my request. “I’ll play the left-hand part, you play the right. Just once.” This was the first time I’d asked him for anything since our marriage. Not a cup, not a car, not the title of Mrs. Vance. I wanted him to sit beside me and play one piece on the same piano. Ethan’s phone vibrated. He looked down at the screen, his brows quickly furrowing. I watched his expression change. I already knew who that expression belonged to. “Chloe’s rehab training didn’t go well today.” Ethan silenced his phone. “She’s having a bit of a breakdown. I need to go to her.” My left hand, still on the keys, froze. “This piece is very short,” I said. Ethan picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, walked over to me, and patted my shoulder. “Next time.” The words were light, and familiar. He turned and walked out. The music shop’s glass door opened, and the chime above it rang once. His figure quickly disappeared down the street. My colleagues in the shop had all stopped what they were doing. Someone still held a stack of sheet music, another a polishing cloth. Their gazes fell on me, then quickly shifted away. I sat at the piano, my left hand still on the keys. The keys were cold. The chill crept up from my fingertips, along the back of my hand, to my wrist. The most constant thing Ethan left me was the coldness each time he let go. A colleague softly called my name. “June?” I looked down at the keys. The four-hand duet music was still spread on the stand, the right-hand part densely noted. That part should have been played by Ethan, sitting beside me. Now the right side of the bench was empty, the corner of the sheet music fluttering in the breeze from the window. I reached out my right hand and pressed down on the score. The sounds of talking resumed in the shop. A customer trying out a piano could be heard from the other end. No one looked at me anymore, but that scene had been witnessed by everyone. I sat for a long time. When I finally lifted my left hand from the keys, faint white marks were pressed into my fingertips. I placed my right hand on the edge of the piano lid and slowly closed it. The lid lowered with a soft thud. The shop fell silent for another moment. I closed the four-hand duet music book and put it back on the lowest shelf.

June Abbott POV The day Chloe’s hearing temporarily regressed, Ethan stayed at the rehab center all night. I called him a few times, but the phone just rang unanswered. Later, I got the address from the driver, changed my shoes, and rushed over. The rehab center’s corridor was long, with stark white walls and lights, and tightly shut patient room doors. A nurse passed by me and asked, “Are you looking for Mr. Vance? Should I go in and tell him?” I shook my head. I thought Ethan would come out soon. I stood outside the patient room in high heels. The heels were thin, the shoes stiff, and at first, my heels just felt warm. Minutes ticked by, and the nurse asked again. I still said no. Occasionally, very low voices came from inside. Ethan’s voice was hushed, as if afraid of startling someone. I moved closer to the wall, shifting my weight to my other foot. The shoe was rubbing against my skin, and the pain grew sharper. After more than an hour, I glanced down. The inside of the shoe was already stained dark red. A blister had burst. Blood clung to the leather, and every movement pulled at the wound. The patient room door finally opened. Ethan stepped out, his eyes bloodshot, his shirt sleeves rolled up. I instinctively angled my injured foot towards him. “Ethan.” He saw me standing in the corridor, and his expression darkened a little. “What are you doing here?” I leaned against the wall, my heel still bleeding. I was about to speak when Chloe let out a muffled groan from inside the room. It was very faint. Ethan immediately turned around. He didn’t even look down at my foot. The door closed in front of me, a gust of air rushing from the gap, then quickly dying out. I stood there, blood from my heel seeping down the shoe. A few minutes later, Ethan came out again. He held a pair of slippers, blue plastic soles, with the rehab center’s logo on the top. He bent down and placed the slippers at my feet. “Put them on.” I looked down at those slippers. The edges of the soles still had a bit of dirt, and the front was creased from many people stepping on them. The communal items from the rehab center were now placed at my feet. Ethan had already pulled out his phone. The screen was lit, Chloe’s profile picture displayed. “She wants an energy drink, a specific brand. The convenience store downstairs is about to close. I’ll go buy it.” I looked up. He remembered Chloe’s needs so clearly. The brand, the time, when the convenience store closed. For the blood on my heel, he only left a pair of communal slippers. “Ethan,” I called him. Ethan paused. I asked, “Did you see my foot?” He glanced back, his brow furrowed. “Just put on the shoes. Don’t make a scene.” Another sound came from the patient room. Ethan’s patience snapped. He turned and walked towards the elevator, his steps quick. The corridor lights shone on his shoulder, and he didn’t even put down his phone. I stood there, watching the elevator doors open and close. Those communal slippers remained in place at my feet. I didn’t put them on. I bent down and took off my high heels, placing them against the wall. When my feet touched the ground, the cold tiles pressed against my skin. The wound tore open, and blood dotted the floor. A nurse looked up at me from the station, startled. “Ma’am, your foot…” I picked up my bag and walked out barefoot. Every step hurt. The blood from my heel left faint marks on the corridor floor, trailing from the patient room door all the way to the elevator. The communal slippers remained in their spot, their toes pointed in the direction I had left.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “429580”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Five years into our marriage, Chris knelt in the pouring rain outside my mansion, soaked to the bone, weeping as she begged me to save her. She claimed a failed investment had buried her in colossal debt. If I’d just mortgage the historic estate my parents left me, she could weather the storm. To spare me from her mess, she even suggested a fake divorce, promising we’d remarry once the debt was clear. My eyes red, I frantically searched for the property deed that night, terrified that a single moment’s delay would push her past her breaking point. Until I accidentally knocked her phone off the couch. The screen lit up, displaying a message she’d sent to her ex-boyfriend: “That fool Carter has totally fallen for it. Once I get my hands on the historic estate, I’ll build a French castle with a rose garden for our wedding home.” I stood rooted to the spot, every drop of blood in my body turning to ice. There was no bankruptcy. From the day she married me, she had been plotting to get her hands on my parents’ inheritance. Watching the woman kneeling in the rain outside, putting on a show of deep affection, I suddenly laughed. Ten minutes later, I knocked on the door of Chris’s aunt, Anhel, the multi-billion dollar head of the Thompson Group. I placed the property deed on her desk, a smile playing on my lips. “Ms. Anhel, I heard you were looking for a legitimate husband?”

Chris knelt in the torrential rain for three whole hours. Lightning tore across the night sky, illuminating her pale, yet still beautiful, face. I rushed out, holding an umbrella, my chest tightening with each beat of my heart. “Chris, are you crazy? You can’t be in the rain with your stomach condition!” She gripped my hand tightly, her eyes bloodshot, her voice a strained whisper. “Carter, I’m ruined.” “The company’s investments failed; our cash flow has completely dried up. It’s a three-billion-dollar hole, and if I can’t fill it in three days, I’m going to jail.” My mind buzzed. Three billion dollars? “Carter, the lawyer said the safest way is to divorce immediately. I’ll bear the debt alone, I won’t drag you into this.” “But Carter… I don’t want to go to jail. Could you temporarily mortgage the estate your parents left you to the bank?” “Once this blows over, I promise I’ll buy it back.” Her grip on my arm was terrifyingly strong. I fell silent. That historic estate was the only tangible memory my parents had left me before they died in a car crash. Every blade of grass, every tree, held memories of them. “Carter, are you really just going to watch me go to jail?” Her voice trembled. My throat bobbed a few times. Five years of marriage. I couldn’t just stand by and watch her go down. “…Fine. We’ll take care of the paperwork tomorrow.” Chris shuddered, gripping my hand tightly. “Carter, I’ll repay you for this my entire life.” In that moment, I truly believed we were facing a test of life and death, together. Until late that night, Chris was feverish and fast asleep, her phone having slipped into the gap of the bed, its screen constantly lighting up. Fearing it might be an urgent call from a company executive, I picked it up and glanced at it. Just one glance, and the blood in my veins instantly froze. On the screen was a message from “Leonardo”: “Chris, have you signed the divorce papers? That estate is in such a perfect location. I want to tear it down and build a French castle with a rose garden as our wedding gift.” Leonardo. Chris’s unforgettable ex-boyfriend. My fingers turned icy as I tapped to scroll up through the chat history. The further I scrolled, the more my heart felt like it was being sawed open by a dull knife. “That fool Carter has totally fallen for it; we’ll handle the divorce and mortgage tomorrow.” “The three-billion-dollar fake accounts are perfectly clean; Anhel won’t suspect a thing.” “I’m sorry you had to wait all these years, Leonardo.” “Once the estate is ours, Carter will have no more use.” Each sentence was like a poisoned dagger stabbing into my heart. It turned out, from start to finish, it was all a meticulously planned deception. I sat in the darkness for a long time, unmoving. At the moment of complete betrayal, a person can’t even cry. I pulled out my phone and took pictures of the chat history, page by page. Then I put her phone back where I found it and turned to look at Chris, sleeping peacefully on the bed. A faint smile still lingered on her lips; she was probably dreaming of living in that French castle with Leonardo. I looked into the darkness and let out a cold, sarcastic laugh. Chris, you want to use my lifeblood to warm another man? Fine. I’ll make you watch, with your own eyes, who truly ends up destroyed.

The next morning, when Chris woke up, I was already sitting on the couch, holding the divorce papers. She froze, a flicker of uncontrollable euphoria in her eyes, quickly replaced by a guilty expression. “Carter, you didn’t sleep all night?” She reached out to touch my face, but I turned my head, avoiding her. “Let’s go to the city hall. The sooner we get it done, the sooner you can deal with your debts.” By ten in the morning, our divorce was finalized. As we walked out, Chris’s mother, Ally, was already waiting by a black Maybach. She rushed over and asked: “Carter, did you bring the property documents? Hurry, let’s go to the bank now!” Her greed was practically spilling from her eyes. I pulled my hand away, calmly looking at the mother and daughter. “The estate can’t be mortgaged today. It’s a historic landmark, so this type of asset requires review by a third-party agency before the bank will approve it.” Ally’s face changed drastically: “Why would it take so long?!” Chris also grew anxious: “Carter, what’s going on? Didn’t we agree?” “It’s the regulation. Unless you can find someone with special privileges to smooth things over with the bank. But I’m just an ordinary person, I can’t do that.” Chris gritted her teeth, her eyes darting around. She wouldn’t dare involve the Thompson family’s connections. If the true head of the Thompson Group caught wind of the three-billion-dollar fake accounts, she would be finished. “Alright. Carter, you absolutely must cooperate with the appraisal agency during this time.” She forced down the gloom in her eyes. “Don’t worry,” I nodded slightly. Not only will I cooperate, but I’ll also prepare a big gift for you. After parting ways with them, I went straight to a top-tier private investigation agency. As I walked into the lobby, I stopped. A woman stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the VIP reception room. She wore a black custom suit dress, tall and with a formidable presence. Holding a cup of black coffee, her profile was as cold and sculpted as a statue, exuding an aura of untouchable authority. Anhel. Chris’s aunt, the true power behind the Thompson Group. She took over the Thompson Group at twenty-five and doubled its empire within five years. Mention her name in all of New York, and no one dared to not feel a chill. I hadn’t expected to run into her here. She seemed to sense my gaze, turning her head slightly. Her sharp, cold eyes locked onto mine. “Carter.” She spoke, her voice clear and cool, carrying a strange sense of pressure. “Anhel.” I walked closer. “You divorced Chris.” A simple statement. My heart jolted. It had been less than two hours since we finalized the papers, and she already knew. Anhel’s lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile. “You were willing to hand over your parents’ inheritance for that three-billion-dollar fake account. Carter, where’s your head?” She knew everything. I clenched my jaw, meeting her gaze: “Ms. Anhel, since you knew it was a fake account, why didn’t you expose her?” “The Thompson Group has too many distant relatives; occasionally, we need a few minor nuisances to keep things interesting.” She said casually, “Besides, that was your wife, your money. What concern is it of mine?” “What if I don’t want to be the fool who gets sold out?” Anhel raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly intrigued. She pulled out a sleek, black business card and handed it to me. “Tonight at nine, penthouse suite. Think carefully about what you want, then come knock.” With that, she turned and left, leaving behind only a chilling silhouette.

At nine that night, I stood promptly outside the penthouse suite door. The door opened. Anhel was wearing a black silk robe, her long hair slightly damp, less sharp than during the day, but with a more subdued, pervasive sense of authority. She offered me a glass of wine; I didn’t take it. “Ms. Anhel, what do you need me to do for you to help me?” “What makes you think I would help you?” “Chris has tampered with Thompson Group’s money. She embezzled subsidiary project funds to create those three billion dollars in fake accounts.” “Ms. Anhel needs a legitimate excuse to clean house.” A flicker of appreciation crossed Anhel’s eyes, then she took a step closer. She was slightly shorter than me, but her presence completely enveloped the entire space. “I have a hundred ways to clean house. Why would I choose the most troublesome one to cooperate with you?” “Because of Leonardo.” I looked her directly in the eye. “His father embezzled company assets, and you personally put him behind bars.” “He’s been trading on the Thompson name for profit these past few years. You despise him.” Anhel’s eyes instantly turned cold. “Chris plans to announce her succession as CEO at the subsidiary’s anniversary gala next month, and simultaneously, her engagement to Leonardo.” “If they are publicly disgraced in front of all the city’s elite, Leonardo will also be utterly humiliated.” She looked at me, and after a long moment, she suddenly smiled. The smile was cold, yet carried a deadly allure. “Carter, it seems you want them utterly ruined, never to recover.” She walked to the desk, picked up a document, and tossed it in front of me. It contained all the evidence of Chris’s embezzlement, fabricated debts, and the purchase of a private island for Leonardo. Every transaction was clearly detailed. “This is just the down payment,” Anhel’s voice whispered in my ear. “If you want more crucial leverage, you’ll have to pay a price.” “What price?” “Be my man.” My pupils constricted: “Ms. Anhel, you must be kidding.” “I never joke.” She took a step closer, trapping me against the floor-to-ceiling window. “If you want to crush Chris, you need a patron who stands higher and more firmly than her. And I am the only choice.” She looked up at me slightly, her eyes as deep as the ocean. “What, still have feelings for her?” “No. I wish she were dead.” “Then prove it to me.” She curved her lips, her voice brushing against my ear. “Go back and continue playing the role of the devoted ex-husband. When the time is right, I will personally pull you out of the game.” I leaned against the glass, my heart pounding like thunder. As long as I could send those two to hell, I would accept this devil’s bargain.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “429579”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Five years ago, after being diagnosed with severe depression, an alter ego named Osman appeared in my body. On odd-numbered days, I’m awake, and on even-numbered days, he is. He’s vibrant and charismatic, while I’m quiet and reserved. My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Williams, and my fiancée, Alice, all prefer him, reserving all their affection for his days. But as time went on, they grew greedier. Every time I was awake, they’d bring me a sedative. If I kept taking them, my core personality would be completely erased. To make them happy, I always took the sedatives. Until today, my birthday, Alice once again handed me the medicine. I looked at her, my eyes red, pleading, “Alice, this time, can I not take the medicine?” She frowned slightly, her voice laced with reluctant cruelty: “Don’t be silly. Osman is going skiing tomorrow; you need more rest.” It turned out all her kindness to me was just her way of maintaining this body for Osman. The bitter pill slid down my throat, swallowing my years of love along with it. Alice, I wish you both happiness. This body, I don’t want it anymore.

Her brow relaxed. “The doctor said this course of medication will help you sleep soundly, and Osman will wake up feeling better tomorrow.” “He needs an early start tomorrow, so you should rest early today.” “Is his ski trip more important than my birthday?” Alice paused for half a second, her gaze hardening. “Davis, don’t compare things like this.” “I’m not comparing.” “You are. Every time you bring up Osman, you act like I owe you something.” I looked at her. “Don’t you?” Her expression stiffened, then her voice softened, “He’s a part of you. Don’t always get hung up on little things.” “I know it’s hard for you to take the medicine, but once you’ve recovered in a few days, I’ll take you to the beach to celebrate your birthday, okay?” She promised a future, then stared at me for a few more seconds. “You’re unhappy about your birthday today, isn’t it because of the cake?” I said nothing. The cake was a Strawberry Napoleon, Osman’s favorite, but I’m allergic to strawberries. When Alice picked out the strawberry for me, she said, “See, I remember you like sweets.” She did remember, but she remembered the wrong person. “I’ll have my assistant order you a new one tomorrow.” “No need.” “Now you’re just being dramatic.” She raised a hand, intending to caress my face. I flinched. Her hand missed, and her expression instantly turned cold. “Davis, you’ve taken the medicine. Don’t throw another tantrum.” My mom’s hushed voice came from outside the door: “Alice, did Davis take it?” Alice glanced at me. “Yes, he did. Davis is asleep; you both should get some rest too.” “Thank you for your trouble.” My mom’s voice was gentle. Alice closed the door, the click of her heels fading into the distance. Once I was sure she was gone, my mom sighed in relief. “That’s good.” My dad’s voice was cold. “After tonight, the medication will completely suppress the core personality. Osman finally won’t have to suffer anymore.” My mom quickly said, “Keep your voice down! What if Alice finds out the truth and gets soft, ruining everything?” “If she knows we’re drugging Davis, our alliance with the Andersons would be ruined!” “What are you afraid of?” My dad snorted. “Dr. Peter said if we drag this out any longer, we’ll lose both of them.” “Osman is outgoing, lively, and incredibly charming. Only he can take over our Williams family business and secure the Anderson alliance.” “Davis’s gloomy nature would only drag down the entire family!” Just outside the door. I listened to my own parents’ secret judgment, the bitterness in my throat slowly rising. Soon after, pain began in my chest. It wasn’t a sharp, cutting pain; it was like fine needles piercing my brain, meticulously pulling out my memories and consciousness one by one. I bit down on the bedsheet, convulsing with pain, every breath tasting of blood. In the middle of the night, Alice returned. I closed my eyes, hearing her walk to the bedside. “Davis, are you alright?”

I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, unable to respond. She stood there for a long time, seemingly believing I was fast asleep. A soft clink sounded on the bedside table. “If the medicine is bitter, have a candy.” “Don’t always frown; Osman will have a headache when he wakes up tomorrow.” I opened my eyes; she had already turned away. “Alice.” I called out to her. She stopped. “Is the candy for me, or for this body?” She didn’t turn back, her silhouette distant. “What’s the difference?” I forced a smile. “None.” The door closed again. The candy lay on the bedside. She had bought me this candy five years ago, when her startup was at its toughest. The wrapper was still blue and white. I reached out and swept it into the trash can. In the drawer were a few things that only belonged to me on my days. A spare phone with a shattered screen, a notebook filled with intricate details of Alice’s company’s financial vulnerabilities. And the tie clip she had bought me before. I put them all into a trash bag. When the pain grew intense, I paused to retch for a while. Before dawn, I finally finished packing my things. In the morning, my mom pushed the door open, carrying a set of skis. “Osman, hurry up and try on the new board…” I sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at her calmly. Her voice abruptly stopped, and the skis clattered to the floor. My dad squeezed in behind her. Seeing my face, he blurted out, “How are you still awake?!” “I’m sorry to disappoint you.” My mom’s face drained of color, her hands trembling violently. “How can this be? It’s an even-numbered day; Osman should be awake!” My dad lowered his voice. “Did you not finish the medicine?” “Alice made sure I drank it.” My dad immediately pulled out his phone and dialed a number, walking onto the balcony and speaking in a hushed tone. “Dr. Peter, what’s going on? Why is he still awake?” “That experimental drug… yes, the project Alice invested in, the data for that project can’t have any errors!” Whatever was said on the other end, my dad’s face changed. After hanging up, he looked at my mom. “We can’t let Alice know.” My mom pressed his arm. “If she knows we added something to the medicine, our business will be completely ruined.” She turned to me, a momentary look of embarrassment in her eyes. “Davis, Mom knows you resent us.” “Yeah.” She froze, clearly surprised I’d admit it. I used to always say I didn’t resent them. The year I was diagnosed, Osman woke up for the first time. He smiled and hugged my mom, sweet-talking her for half an hour. My mom froze, then her eyes welled up. “This is my son.” I stood by, seeing the disappointment in her eyes. She didn’t speak, but I understood. Davis, you’re too gloomy; you suffocate people. You can’t offer any emotional support; all you do is stay up late looking at reports. From then on, I endured for five years. They made me shift my birthday to one of his days so we could celebrate together. They cleared out my bedroom balcony so Osman could store his skis and gaming chair there. Whenever there was a business dinner, she’d make me take sleeping pills, forcing me into a trance so Osman could take over, socialize for her, and take all the drinks. Once, on one of his days, Osman even used my account to text Alice, claiming I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday, so she wouldn’t feel awkward. Alice believed it. That year, on my birthday, she didn’t even call. I thought, in the end, I’d earn my family’s and lover’s sympathy, but they just resented that I hadn’t disappeared completely enough. “Give me your phone.” My dad walked over, reaching out. “Why?” “You’re emotionally unstable right now. Don’t go contacting Alice.” I handed over my phone. The quiet click of the lock echoed in the room. I sat back on the bed, looking at the empty balcony. There used to be an old film camera there, one I’d saved up for ages to buy. On my days, I’d clean the lens. On his days, Osman, complaining it took up too much space, threw it and its film cartridges into the recycling bin. He always claimed he didn’t know anything. But every time I liked something, it would disappear on his days.

At noon, the lock clicked open. Alice pushed the door in, carrying a few paper bags, her voice holding its usual indulgent tone: “Osman, why are you still lounging in bed?” My dad followed behind, his face stiff, trying to stop her but failing. “Alice, listen to me…” Alice ignored him, walking directly to the bedside. But the moment her eyes met mine, the smile on her face froze abruptly. “Davis? It’s an even-numbered day. Why are you here? Where’s Osman?” “I’m sorry to disappoint you, he didn’t wake up.” She stood there, stunned. The bags were half-open, revealing a ski suit and a bottle of fir-scented men’s cologne. She had bought them for Osman. Osman complained white tea was too bland and only wore this intensely bold cologne. Realizing she had mistaken me, Alice subconsciously pulled the paper bags back, a flicker of awkwardness crossing her expression. My dad quickly explained from behind, “Davis has a bit of a fever; it might have affected the medicine’s absorption and the rotation.” Alice frowned. “If he has a fever, call a doctor. Davis, did you deliberately not take your medicine on time, just to keep Osman from coming out?” I looked at her. “You think I’m stealing his time?” “What else?” Her voice turned cold. “Today was his long-anticipated ski day, and a crucial deal for Anderson Group to acquire a key land parcel. You clearly knew…” “I didn’t know.” I cut her off. “All I know is that from last night until now, I was in agony, practically dying.” She gripped the paper bag handles so tightly her knuckles were white. “Davis, don’t try to scare me like that.” “Would you be scared?” She reached out and grabbed my wrist, not allowing me to pull away. “I know you’re upset about your birthday yesterday, but Osman has genuinely helped the company a lot these past few years. He’s simply more charming than you.” “Just listen, don’t throw a tantrum. Hurry and give up the body. In a few days, on one of your days, I’ll take you to the beach to celebrate your birthday.” I lowered my eyes to her hand. “Which day will you take me? On my day, or on his day?” Her throat tightened. “Davis, don’t be like this.” “See, you can’t answer.” She suddenly tightened her grip. “What exactly are you upset about?” Pain shot up from my wrist bone. I pulled my hand away expressionlessly. Alice’s hand hung in mid-air. “You’re pulling away from me?” “It hurts.” Her expression softened. “I didn’t use much force.” “Hmm.” “Davis, you’re getting more and more perfunctory with your words.” I looked at her, my patience snapped. “Don’t you love it when I’m sensible? What, you’re not happy now?” My mom quickly intervened. “Alice, you should go back to the company. Osman’s… ski trip, you should cancel it first.” Alice didn’t move. My dad also said, “Alice, we’ll watch Davis.” Alice didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to me, her voice tinged with condescension. “Do you want me to stay and keep you company?” In the past, I would have immediately nodded. I would have swallowed all my grievances, just to have her sit by the bed with me for a while. But now I just said, “No need. It would only bother you.” Her hand, clutching the paper bags, stiffened, as if she hadn’t expected me to refuse. A flicker of shock crossed her usually poised face. But she quickly masked it, letting out a cold laugh. “Fine, whatever.”

The door slammed shut. As I moved a storage box from the bottom of the closet, my fingertips brushed against a worn jewelry box. I opened it; it was empty. That was a mechanical watch Alice bought for me with her first profits, the year she first started her company. She said she couldn’t afford a good one then, but would get me a Patek Philippe someday. At the time, I wore it on my wrist, reluctant to take it off even when I slept. Later, when Osman woke up and saw the watch, he complained it was uncomfortable and looked cheap, and he tossed it carelessly into the river. Alice rushed over that day, and Osman hugged her waist, whining playfully: “Alice, I didn’t mean to. I just thought that cheap watch didn’t suit your current status. If you take me to business meetings, people will laugh at you.” She stroked his head. “If the old one’s gone, it’s gone.” When I woke up, I questioned her, “That was a gift from you.” Alice frowned, her voice impatient. “Davis, it was just a few hundred dollars. Don’t embarrass Osman. Tomorrow, I’ll have my secretary send you a Patek Philippe.” She did send it. On his days, Osman would wear that Patek Philippe, post pictures on Ins, captioning them: “Feels good to be favored.” I didn’t like the post. On my days, the expensive watch lay on the dressing table. Alice said, “See, the new one suits your current status better.” I asked her, “Do you remember what was engraved on the old watch?” She was silent for a long time. “Davis, people can’t always live in the past.” I threw the empty jewelry box into the trash. My tablet lit up, a memo popping up with a schedule reminder. Next Monday: Watch the sunrise with Alice at the beach. The note beneath read: Dr. Peter said after tonight, the integration will be complete. Finally no more waiting for his days! That was Osman’s smiley face. I looked at the words, my fingertips tingling. He knew everything. He was even looking forward to my death. As night fell, I started coughing up blood. Not just a little, but great gushes. “Davis, open the door!” Alice hammered on the door from outside. My mom frantically stopped her. “Alice, he’s asleep.” “I hear something! Move!” “He’s throwing a tantrum and broke something, don’t go in…” “Keys!” As the lock clicked open, I was leaning against the bed, vomiting blood. The carpet, the sheets, all stained dark red. Alice stood at the doorway, her pupils constricted sharply. “Davis, what happened to you?” I looked up at her, my vision somewhat blurred. “Why are you here?” She rushed forward, pulling me up from the floor, her voice tight. “I’m taking you to the hospital!” My mom followed in, clinging to her arm. “Alice, you can’t take him!” “He’s spitting blood, and you’re telling me not to care?!” Alice’s eyes were bloodshot. She pushed my mom away, about to rush out. My dad abruptly blocked the doorway, shouting loudly: “Alice! If you take him to the hospital today, if they use a stomach pump, Dr. Peter’s medication will be completely disrupted!” “Osman’s personality would be damaged, and he might never return!” Alice froze, her feet rooted to the spot. My mom cried, kneeling on the floor and clinging to her leg. “Alice, just this one night, please!” “Davis is only bleeding because of a rejection reaction to the medicine. He just needs to pull through this night.” “But if Osman misses tonight, we’ll lose him completely!” The muscles in her face twitched imperceptibly, and her arm around me instantly stiffened. I reached out my blood-stained hand and gently tugged her shirt. “Alice, I’m in so much pain.” This was the first time in five years I had cried out to her. Her voice caught in her throat. She looked down at me. I said, “Save me.” She only needed to take one step forward, just one step. I watched her fingers tremble. Just a little more, and she could touch my face. But she stopped.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “429578”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My destination wedding with Mason was supposed to be a small, intimate getaway with both of our parents. But on the day of our flight, I waited at the airport terminal for what felt like hours. When Mason finally showed up, he brought his childhood best friend, Eve, her parents, and about seven or eight of her extended relatives. Every single one of them held a first-class boarding pass. Except for my parents. I looked at Mason. “Where are my parents’ tickets?” He didn’t even look up as he helped Eve’s mother push her designer suitcase. “We ran out of plane tickets.” “I bought them coach tickets on the Greyhound bus.” A thirty-hour Greyhound bus ride. Followed by a local shuttle, and then a ferry. My dad had just undergone major spinal surgery, and my mom got so motion-sick that even a two-hour car ride made her vomit. My voice shook. “Then why does Eve’s entire family have first-class plane tickets?” Mason frowned, looking annoyed. “Eve’s parents are getting older. They can’t handle a rough journey.” “Besides, her relatives joined us at the last minute. I couldn’t just tell them they couldn’t come.” My phone buzzed right then. It was my mom on Snapchat. Her voice was incredibly tentative, as if she was terrified of causing me any trouble. “Sweetheart, the bus is actually really nice. We’ll get there before you know it.” My throat tightened, but before I could speak, I heard my dad coughing heavily in the background. He tried to muffle the sound, whispering urgently to my mom. “Don’t tell her. It’s her wedding day. Don’t make her worry.” In that exact moment, as I looked at the cheerful, bustling crowd surrounding Mason, I realized something. This wedding didn’t need to happen.

Eve walked over to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Kayla, please don’t be mad at Mason.” “If it makes you feel better, I can ask my aunt to give up her seat.” She paused, lowering her voice. “It’s just… my aunt has never been to a tropical island before. She’s been excited about this for months.” Mason immediately patted her hand comfortingly. “This has nothing to do with you, Eve. I made the travel arrangements.” He turned to me, his tone sharp with impatience. “Eve’s family is already here at the airport.” “I couldn’t just send them home.” One of Eve’s cousins whispered sneeringly to another. “Starting a fight over something so petty? The bride’s family is so cheap.” Mason clearly heard it. But he only said, “They didn’t mean anything by it.” “Today is our big day, Kayla. Don’t be so sensitive.” I stared straight into his eyes. “My dad just had spinal surgery, Mason. My mom gets severe motion sickness.” “And you expect them to sit on a cramped Greyhound bus for thirty hours to get to my wedding?” Mason pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop making it sound like a tragedy.” “I sent them the exact itinerary. They just take the bus, transfer to the shuttle, and hop on the ferry. It’s very straightforward.” He said it so casually. But when I pictured my dad’s stiff, unbending spine and my mom’s face turning pale on a bumpy road, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by a fist. My phone rang again. It was my mom via FaceTime. The background was incredibly loud, filled with the chaotic noise of a busy bus terminal. She spoke softly, trying to sound upbeat. “Kayla, we’re boarding now.” “The bus is totally fine. Don’t worry about us.” A sob caught in my throat. “Mom, get off the bus right now.” “I’m buying you guys plane tickets.” My mom panicked. “No, no, don’t do that! Mason set everything up perfectly.” In the background, I heard my dad trying to suppress another harsh cough. “Don’t tell the kid,” he muttered. “It’s her wedding. Don’t ruin it.” My tears finally spilled over. “Dad, is your back hurting?” My dad forced a chuckle. “Not at all, sweetie. I feel great. Totally fine.” But a second later, an impatient voice yelled through the phone. “Hey, old man! Move it or lose it! You’re blocking the aisle!” My mom quickly apologized to the stranger. “So sorry, so sorry. His back is bad, he moves a bit slow.” My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. I could picture the scene perfectly. My dad, clutching a seat for support, unable to straighten his back. My mom, shielding their cheap suitcases, apologizing profusely to impatient strangers. Before today, they had been as excited as little kids. Two weeks ago, I went back to my parents’ house to grab my birth certificate for the marriage license. My dad was standing in front of the mirror, trying on a cheap Macy’s suit. He had saved up for a month to buy it, saying he didn’t want to embarrass me on my big day. The sleeves were a bit too long, and the shoulders didn’t fit right. But he still smiled warmly and asked me: “Sweetie, if I wear this to the island, will I make you look bad?” My mom had spent days packing homemade peanut brittle, organic berry jams, and roasted pecans into their suitcases. “We’re meeting his parents for the first time. We can’t show up empty-handed.” “Mason treats you well, so we have to show proper manners.” At the time, I laughed at how seriously they were taking it. I had told them, “Mason has arranged everything. Just relax and follow my lead.” My mom’s eyes had lit up with pride. The next day, she told everyone in the neighborhood: “My daughter is having an island wedding!” But now… They were expected to ride a grueling Greyhound bus. On the phone, my mom was still trying to soothe me. “Kayla, don’t be angry.” “Mason is a busy man. Coordinating travel for so many people is hard work.” “We’re just glad we can save you guys some money by taking the bus.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Mom, get off the bus.” “I’m not getting married.”

My mom gasped in horror. “Don’t talk crazy, Kayla!” But I couldn’t listen anymore. I hung up, spun around, and started walking toward the exit. Mason grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” “To pick up my parents.” His face darkened instantly. “Our flight is boarding in ten minutes. If you leave, what happens to the wedding?” I looked at him, my gaze freezing cold. “My parents aren’t even going to be there. What wedding is there to have?” Eve’s mother let out a soft, theatrical cough. Mason immediately let go of my arm, turned around, and draped his jacket over her shoulders. “Mrs. Higgins, is the AC too cold for you?” The gesture was smooth, practiced, and incredibly caring. I stood there, suddenly feeling that even demanding an explanation was a waste of breath. He knew exactly how to care for elderly people. He knew they shouldn’t be subjected to harsh drafts or long journeys. He understood respect and comfort perfectly. But that gentleness. Was never meant for my parents. Mason turned back to me, his voice laced with annoyance. “Kayla, stop throwing a tantrum.” “I already took care of your parents.” I quietly pulled my hand away from his reach. A thirty-hour Greyhound ticket. A complicated route requiring shuttles and ferries. And my parents having to swallow their pride and pain just to protect his ego. That was his definition of “taking care of them.” Just as I reached the exit of the airport, my phone rang again. It was my mom. This time, her voice was trembling with sheer panic. “Kayla… I don’t think we can take the bus.” My heart dropped. “What do you mean?” The background was loud, dominated by the angry voice of a ticket agent. My mom whispered, her voice cracking with embarrassment. “The agent says the tickets are invalid.” “They were booked for yesterday. We can’t use them today.” “They’re kicking us out of the terminal.” My brain went completely numb. Mason said he had arranged everything. And his “perfect arrangement” was buying my parents expired bus tickets. I squeezed my phone. “Mom, where are you guys right now?” My mom quickly tried to defend him. “Kayla, please don’t blame Mason.” “He had so many tickets to book. It’s just an honest mistake.” My dad’s muffled cough came through the line again. “We’ll just wait at the station for a bit.” “It’s no big deal.” They had just been thrown out of a bus station. Standing in a strange terminal with heavy bags. And they were still making excuses for Mason. My eyes burned. I turned around and walked right up to Mason. “Did you buy my parents tickets for yesterday?” Mason’s expression flickered. “What?” I shoved the phone screen in front of his face. “They just got kicked out of the terminal.” “Is this your perfect arrangement?” Mason finally frowned. He seemed to realize that this was turning into a genuine hassle. “My assistant must have messed up the dates when booking.” “Look, don’t panic.” He whipped out his phone and made a quick call. “I’ll have my assistant drive over and pick up your parents.” “We won’t fly out today.” “I’ll rebook all of us for tomorrow.” He spoke rapidly, his tone softening slightly. He was treating this like a minor corporate hiccup. But as I watched him, my heart went completely cold. If I hadn’t pushed him. If my mom hadn’t called. Would my parents have been left sitting in a cold station, clutching their bags, waiting in vain until dark?

Eve walked over, her eyes red. “This is all my fault.” “If my family hadn’t joined last minute, your parents would have had their plane tickets.” She lowered her head, looking utterly miserable. “But my parents have never traveled far. I was just so scared they wouldn’t know how to navigate the airport alone.” Mason immediately wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. “How is this your fault?” “Stop blaming yourself for everything.” Watching him shield Eve, a wave of pure disgust washed over me. My parents were stranded at a bus station because of his negligence. And his only reaction was annoyance. But the second Eve shed a single tear. He looked as if his entire world was in pain. Half an hour later, Mason’s assistant brought my parents to the airport. The moment my mom saw me, she tried to hide a torn plastic bag behind her back. Inside was the homemade peanut brittle she had made for the trip. It had gotten crushed during the commotion at the station, and the broken pieces were stuck to the inside of the plastic wrapper. My dad was leaning heavily on his cane, his face pale with exhaustion. But when he saw Mason, the first thing he said was: “Mason, we’re so sorry for the trouble.” “We old folks just didn’t read the ticket dates carefully.” My nose stung with tears. “Dad…” Mason merely glanced at his luxury watch. “At least we didn’t miss the flight window for tomorrow.” My mom timidly held out the torn plastic bag, offering a small, hopeful smile. “Mason, I made some peanut brittle.” “Since we’re meeting your family, I wanted to bring a little treat.” Mason looked down at the sticky, broken candy. His nose wrinkled in immediate disgust. “Mrs. Miller, the resort has five-star catering.” “We shouldn’t bring smelly, homemade stuff to the island.” “The wedding aesthetic is luxury chic. This really doesn’t fit the vibe.” My mom’s hand froze in mid-air. The eager smile on her face withered away, though she tried desperately to keep her composure. “Oh, right.” “Of course.” She quickly pulled the bag back, hiding it behind her back like a scolded child. “I won’t bring it then. I don’t want to ruin the aesthetic.” My throat felt so tight I couldn’t breathe. Across the terminal, Eve’s mother let out another soft cough. Mason immediately rushed to her side, supporting her elbow. “Mrs. Higgins, please sit down.” “Did you miss breakfast this morning?” He waved his assistant over to buy sandwiches and personally wheeled her luggage out of the way. He was gentle, attentive, and incredibly respectful. The contrast between this and how he treated my parents was night and day. Eve’s aunt, Clara, let out a soft chuckle. “Honestly, bringing homemade country food to a luxury resort is a bit much. It’s better left behind.” My mom heard her. She squeezed the plastic bag in her hand, bowing her head even lower. “We’re just ignorant. Sorry for causing trouble.” Mason didn’t even acknowledge the insult to my mother. He simply gestured to the shuttle van parked outside. “Eve’s family is quite large.” “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, why don’t you take the utility van behind us?” I looked out the window. The van behind was packed to the brim with heavy luggage, equipment, and folding chairs. It was the crew’s transport vehicle. My voice was dead cold. “My dad has a spinal injury, and you want him to ride in a cargo van?” Mason’s brow furrowed deep. “Kayla, do you have to be so difficult?” “It’s just a van with some extra bags.” “We’ll be at the resort tomorrow anyway. Do you really have to pick a fight over this right now?” I looked at him. In that moment, a harsh truth crystallized in my mind. Mason hadn’t “forgotten” to respect my parents. He simply believed they didn’t deserve it. My mom quickly grabbed my wrist. “Kayla, please don’t fight.” “We can sit anywhere. The wedding is the most important thing.” The wedding was the most important thing. Even now, they were terrified of ruining my special day. But as I looked at my dad’s pale, sweating forehead and my mom clutching her ruined homemade candy, the very last spark of love I had for Mason died.

I didn’t argue. Instead, I quietly guided my parents to a hotel right next to the airport. My dad spent the entire walk apologizing. “Kayla, I’m really fine.” “Did I make things difficult between you and Mason?” My mom held the sticky bag of candy, whispering, “Maybe we shouldn’t have come.” “I don’t want his family looking down on you because of us.” Seeing them so incredibly small and anxious broke my heart. They had done absolutely nothing wrong. Yet they were carrying all the guilt. Once we got to the hotel room, I told them to rest. Then, I pulled out my phone and canceled my flight to the resort. Instead, I booked three first-class tickets to Montana. Next, I opened WhatsApp and messaged the wedding coordinator. “Cancel the wedding.” The coordinator called me back within seconds, her voice panicked. “Kayla! The ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow! Are you absolutely sure?” I looked at my parents, who had collapsed onto the hotel bed, fast asleep from sheer exhaustion. My voice was quiet but steady. “Yes. Cancel it.” At 10:00 PM, Mason returned to the hotel room. He slammed the door, his face tight with anger. The drama at the airport had clearly ruined the mood for Eve’s family, and he was taking it out on me. He stood by the door, glaring at me. “Kayla, we all fly out tomorrow morning.” “Drop the attitude.” He paused, his tone shifting to accusation. “Eve cried for hours today.” “She thinks she’s the reason your parents didn’t get plane tickets.” “When you see her tomorrow, you owe her an apology.” I stared at him, momentarily stunned, before letting out a dry laugh. “I owe “her” an apology?” Mason scoffed. “Her family had their travel perfectly sorted out.” “Because of your little stunt, everyone had to rebook their flights.” “You made a dozen people delay their trip. Don’t you think you should say sorry?” In his mind, my parents being humiliated and thrown out of a bus station was nothing. But Eve’s family having their flight delayed by a day was an unforgivable tragedy. I looked at him. The urge to explain, to argue, to make him see reason, completely vanished. “Fine,” I said softly. Mason let out a sigh of relief, assuming he had won, and walked into the bathroom to shower. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the three digital tickets to Montana on my phone. My heart was completely quiet. In the middle of the night, a soft rustling in the living area woke me. Mason was on a hushed FaceTime call. “Eve?” “Why are you crying?” I couldn’t hear the other side, but his voice immediately softened into a tender whisper. “Don’t be scared.” “I’m coming over right now.” As the hotel door clicked shut behind him, a memory flashed in my mind. Years ago, I had a high fever in the middle of the night and called him. He had told me he had an early meeting the next morning and told me to just take some Advil and go to sleep. Back then, I had made excuses for him. “He’s just busy.” “He’s ambitious. That’s a good thing for our future.” But the truth was simple. He was entirely capable of running out in the middle of the night to comfort someone. It just was never me. The next morning, Mason returned. There was a faint smudge of pink lipstick on his collar. He didn’t seem to notice. Eve was standing right behind him, her eyes red, her voice dripping with sweet regret. “Kayla, I am so sorry about yesterday.” “I really didn’t mean to cause so much trouble for you and your family.” Mason shot me a warning glance. The message was clear: “Apologize now.” I smiled slightly and said absolutely nothing. When we arrived at the airport terminal, Eve’s family was already waiting at the first-class check-in desk. Mason handed over their passports, smoothly checking them in. Eve’s parents, her aunt, her cousins—everyone was booked in first class. When it was my parents’ turn, the agent checked the system. “Mr. Robert Miller, Mrs. Margaret Miller. You’re in basic economy.” My mom blinked, quickly waving her hands. “Economy is perfect! Really, we don’t mind.” “We can sit anywhere.” Mason stepped forward, speaking to me in a low, placating voice, clearly trying to head off another scene. “Rebooking at the last minute was tight.” “These were the only first-class seats left.” “Economy is fine for your parents. It’s only a two-hour flight anyway.” Two hours. Suddenly, he knew the flight was only two hours. Yet yesterday, he had no problem sending my parents on a thirty-hour bus ride. Eve chimed in, her voice sweet and helpful. “Maybe I should swap seats with your mom, Kayla?” Mason immediately cut her off. “No way.” “You didn’t sleep at all last night, Eve. Don’t push yourself.” I looked at the deep concern in his eyes for Eve. Then I looked at my dad’s pale, weary face. The very last thread holding me to this man snapped. The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. The first-class passengers were called to their priority lane. Mason was busy guiding Eve’s mother and helping her father with his carry-on. Just before passing through the gate, he finally remembered to look back at me. “Kayla, take your parents and line up over there.” “See you at the resort.” With that, he walked down the priority lane with Eve’s family. My mom whispered, “Kayla, we should get in line. We don’t want to miss the gate.” I took her hand and smiled gently. “Mom, Dad.” “We’re not going to that wedding.” “I’m taking you somewhere else.” My mom’s eyes widened. “But the wedding…” Over the loudspeaker, the final boarding call for Mason’s flight echoed. I took one last look at the empty priority lane. Mason probably thought we would meet him at the baggage claim on the island. He had no idea. We would never meet again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “429577”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I’ve been painfully honest and hyper-paranoid about risk since the day I was born. My mom can watch hundreds of millions of dollars evaporate in the stock market in a single day without even blinking. My dad buys luxury high-rises the way normal people buy groceries at the corner store. And Rachel, my sister, started investing her trust fund at the age of three, becoming a ruthless market shark everyone in the business world is terrified of. Then there’s me. I’m the kind of guy who hesitates to pay extra for avocado on a sandwich. I’ve lived this ultra-wealthy life in absolute terror, always feeling like God is going to come knock on my door one day to collect interest on a loan I never asked for. So, on the night of my eighteenth birthday gala, when the real heir showed up at our front door holding a DNA test… I let out a massive sigh of relief. See? I knew it. How could a paranoid, penny-pinching guy like me ever be the actual heir to a massive empire? On the night of the gala, I stood on the stage wearing a custom designer suit worth millions, feeling completely out of place. “Dad, this fabric is itching crazy. Can I please change into something else?” My dad glared at me, his face dark, and waved the makeup artist over to touch up my face. “Arthur, remember. Your most important job tonight is to keep your mouth shut.” I pouted, metaphorically zipping my lips, and stared blankly at the bustling crowd of high-society guests below. “Honey, sometimes I really wonder if Arthur is actually ours,” my mom sighed. Before she could say anything else, the grand heavy doors of the ballroom were slammed open. A boy wearing a faded, washed-out T-shirt marched in. He held a thick manila folder high in the air, his voice echoing through the hall: “Here is the DNA test! I am the real biological son of the Sterling family! You’ve all been fooled by Arthur!” The room fell into dead silence, followed instantly by an explosion of wild whispers. “The real vs. fake heir? I knew coming tonight was a good idea! This is pure drama!” “Honestly, I always thought the Sterlings’ son was weird. He has zero ambition.” “Last time my kid asked him to invest in a tech startup, the guy looked like he was going to cry and pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his pocket! Like, what was that even supposed to do?” Hearing their gossip, I swallowed hard. Yes! Thank God. I knew it. I’m the type of person who needs a whole mental pep talk just to buy a premium sandwich. There was no way in hell I was a billionaire heir. Looking at the boy who just stormed in, I actually felt like walking over, shaking his hand, and thanking him. Before I could move, he pointed a finger at me and shrieked, “Arthur! You didn’t expect this, did you? You didn’t think I’d actually find my way here!” “You knew all along that I was the real Sterling heir! Why did you hide it?” I blinked, totally lost. What kind of fan-fiction plot was he running? I had literally never seen this guy in my life. I opened my mouth, instinctively reaching into my pocket for the little notebook I used to track my daily expenses. But after fumbling around, I realized this fancy suit didn’t have functional pockets, so I hadn’t brought it. Seeing me hesitate, the boy grew even more smug. “My name is Tyler James. But of course, it’ll be Tyler Sterling very soon.” He puffed out his chest, confidently stroking past the guests to stand right next to me, and grabbed my wrist. “Not only did you steal my life, you fake heir, but you even stole the family heirloom bracelet our father left for me!” “You did it on purpose to keep me from finding my real family, didn’t you?” I looked down at the simple metal band on my wrist in confusion, then looked at my dad. The script of this drama felt a bit off. I had been wearing this bracelet for over ten years. It wasn’t some Cartier gold piece; it couldn’t be worth more than a few bucks. “That bracelet is worth a million dollars, Arthur! You couldn’t pay it off even if you worked for the rest of your life!” “If you behave and act like my loyal dog from now on, I might consider letting you off easy.” Tyler James’s eyes were red, looking as if he were the most abused victim in the world. “Are you saying the bracelet on his wrist is yours? And that it’s worth a million dollars?” My dad set his champagne glass down. His voice was quiet. But the entire ballroom instantly fell dead silent. “Yes!” Tyler James threw his head back. “Dad, we caught him red-handed! Throw him out of the house right now!” Every eye in the room landed on me. I clenched my fists. I wanted to defend myself, but I didn’t even know where to start. After what felt like an eternity, my dad spoke. “Impossible.” “If you told me he robbed a bank, I’d believe that before I believed he had the guts to steal from you.”

Tyler James’s face turned pale. “Dad, are you seriously protecting a fake heir?” He collapsed onto his knees, tears streaming down his face. “I was kidnapped and taken to some remote mountain town when I was a kid. I barely escaped my abusive foster parents!” “I came all the way to this big city, only to find out someone else had stolen my life.” “It was you, Arthur! You, the imposter, living like royalty every day! Don’t you feel any guilt?” My face remained blank, but in my head, I was nodding along. Honestly, I had suspected I wasn’t a biological Sterling for a long time. The Sterling family was a dynasty. Everyone was a top-tier elite. My mom was a wall street shark. She could lose hundreds of millions in a day without flinching, casually telling people, “Money comes and goes, but the game is forever.” My dad was the CEO of the Sterling Group. The first thing he did every morning was swipe through his iPad to see which commercial buildings he wanted to buy. And Rachel, my sister, didn’t even need an introduction. She started investing at age three. Last year, she used her allowance to fund a green energy startup and tripled her money in six months. I was the only anomaly. When I was six, my dad gave me a black card. I casually took it to school and used it to play card-flipping games with the neighborhood kids on the dirt. Later, when I found out it had an unlimited credit line that could buy a small country, I immediately returned it to my dad, untouched. When I was eight, I found a penny on the school playground. I stood under the scorching noon sun for an hour waiting for whoever lost it. When no one showed up, I literally walked to the local police station to hand it in. I gave them the exact time, location, and a list of every ant that had crawled past the penny. I knew I didn’t fit in with the Sterling family. Even in high society, whenever people talked about me, they always rolled their eyes. “Arthur? The guy doesn’t even know the difference between a Rolex and a Swatch!” “I saw him at a charity gala once. He was literally counting the zeros on the donation board with his mouth wide open. It was hilarious.” I knew what they whispered. And honestly, I agreed with them. I mean, how could a guy like me ever be a billionaire heir? My dad chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. “Arthur once asked me for ten dollars, and he insisted on writing a formal promissory note for it.” “And you’re saying he stole from you? If you have evidence, call the cops.” He smiled faintly, sitting back down. “But let me remind you, filing a false police report is a felony.” Tyler James’s crying stopped instantly. He wiped his tears and handed the DNA report to my dad. “Maybe… maybe I misremembered the bracelet.” “But the DNA test doesn’t lie.” My mom flipped through the pages carelessly, then pinched the bridge of her nose. She gave the butler a quick nod. Within ten minutes, the entire ballroom was cleared of guests. “Honey,” she said, looking at my dad. “Care to explain where you got this secret love child from?” My dad froze. To prove his innocence, he dragged the entire family to the private hospital for a rush DNA test that very night. While waiting for the results, Tyler James stayed at the Sterling mansion. The next morning, we were all sitting at the long dining table for breakfast. I was carefully arranging my plate—salad, eggs, and toast—in a precise layout. Based on my calculations, eating them in this exact order optimized digestion. No choking, no wasting, and most importantly, no getting sick. That way, I wouldn’t cost the family any medical bills. Just as I took my first bite, Tyler James started his drama again.

He raised his glass of milk like he was making a grand toast and chugged it. Then he stood up. “Everyone, since I am sitting here, it means you’ve already accepted me as a Sterling.” “In that case, there is something I can no longer keep secret.” Tyler James took a deep breath, looking as though he were making a monumental decision. He pointed at Paul, our butler who was serving the dishes, and then glared triumphantly at me. “Paul, I heard you with my own ears today! You said Arthur stole two hundred thousand dollars in cash from the family safe!” “We have a witness! Arthur, what do you have to say for yourself now?” The platter in Paul’s hands almost slipped. He waved his hands in a panic. “I never said such a thing! Sir, where did you hear that…” Tyler James clapped his hands together, his eyes locking onto Paul like a hawk. “I am the real Sterling heir! How dare you still protect this imposter?” “Don’t worry! As long as you tell the truth, I promise I won’t let my parents fire you!” Paul looked like he was about to burst into tears. “I… I was just whispering to myself! I noticed Arthur’s allowance this month was twenty dollars more than last month, and I was just worried he didn’t have enough money for something…” “It was literally twenty dollars! Not two hundred thousand!” Hearing this, I looked up from my plate, staring at Paul in absolute horror. How did he know I had asked for an extra twenty dollars this month? I was planning to use it to buy a luxury triple-cheese sandwich from a food truck before I got kicked out of the Sterling house! Now my secret was out! Tyler James completely misread my expression. He thought I was paralyzed with guilt. “Look at his face! If he didn’t steal two hundred thousand dollars, why is he looking so ashamed that he can’t even lift his head?” Rachel let out a cold sneer. “Tyler, you haven’t even officially joined this family, and you’re already trying to run the household?” “And stop project your own cheap, narrow-minded thoughts onto Arthur.” I nodded in agreement. Exactly. Even though I wasn’t the real heir, I knew which money was mine to take and which wasn’t. “You! Rachel! I know you haven’t accepted me yet…” “You grew up with Arthur, so of course you prefer him.” “But you have to understand, we are the ones who share actual blood!” Tyler James could cry on command. He wrapped his arms around himself, looking tragically lonely. “The path of growth is always lonely, but I am willing to bear this cross.” I blinked, looking around the room. What was going on? Tyler James felt like a total drama queen. He didn’t seem like a Sterling at all. “Enough!” My dad wiped his mouth with a napkin, his voice cold. “Paul, go upstairs and flip Arthur’s mattress.” Paul looked as if he had just been handed a lifeline. He bolted up the stairs. A few minutes later, he returned, holding a small stack of crumpled bills and coins. “There was a total of three hundred and five dollars taped under Arthur’s mattress. Nothing else.” No one at the table looked surprised, except me. My eyes went wide. “Wait… how did you guys know my hiding spot?” And here I thought I was a master of stealth! “You tape money under your mattress?! Are you a squirrel, Arthur?!” Tyler James shrieked, completely unable to believe that my secret stash was only three hundred bucks. “None of your business! That’s emergency money!” My face flushed red as I scrambled to explain. “What if the family goes bankrupt one day?!” “Bankrupt?” My mom almost choked on her water. “Arthur, we have hundreds of billions of dollars!” My dad slammed his fork down, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tyler James. “Do you see this? His risk awareness is the highest in this entire family. And you think he stole two hundred thousand?” He offered a patronizing, calm smile. “Tyler, until the DNA results are officially back, you are not a Sterling.” “Try slandering Arthur one more time, and see what happens.” Tyler James’s mouth twitched. He wanted to say something, but ultimately shut his mouth in frustration. Just as I thought the storm had passed… My dad’s phone rang. It was the hospital. “Mr. Sterling, your expedited DNA test results are ready.”

As expected, my DNA had absolutely no connection to the Sterling family. Tyler James looked like a victorious rooster, chin held high as he pointed at my nose. “You. Get the hell out of the Sterling mansion.” “And burn everything in his bedroom. I don’t want any of his cheap trash contaminating my house.” “Mom, give me thirty million dollars. I found a killer startup to invest in. Guaranteed thirty percent return.” He threw himself onto the luxury sofa, crossing his legs arrogantly. “Arthur, you owe me eighteen years of luxury living. It’s time to pay it back.” I nodded quietly, pulling out my little notebook from my pocket and flipping to the first page. Thank God I was always prepared. Ever since I learned how to read and write, I had been terrified of this day. So, I had recorded every single cent I spent. “I calculated it. Over the years, I’ve cost the Sterling family a total of one hundred and thirty-one thousand, one hundred and forty dollars. Don’t worry, I will get a job and pay you guys back every single cent.” I nodded, gave them a polite bow, and turned to grab my suitcase. “Hold on!” Tyler James lunged forward and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. “One hundred and thirty thousand? Are you kidding me? The Sterlings are billionaires! Are you trying to scam us?” “I…” Before I could finish, my mom called out, “Arthur, what do you think you’re doing? This house has plenty of bedrooms. We aren’t going to starve just because you’re here.” “Mom…” “Arthur, your mom is right,” my dad added. “Even though your risk paranoia is a bit much, it actually balances out the rest of this family perfectly.” “Dad…” Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at my parents. My heart felt incredibly warm. “I… I will do my best to keep up with everyone!” And just like that, Tyler James officially moved into the Sterling mansion, legally changing his name to Tyler Sterling. At his official welcome gala, he wore a bespoke tuxedo, walking around the room to schmooze and toast the guests. “Hello, I’m Tyler Sterling. In the future, if you need anything from the Sterling family, just come straight to me.” The guests smiled and raised their glasses. One guy joked, “Well, Tyler, I have a project here that needs a bit of funding. Just two figures. Want to take a look?” Tyler’s eyes lit up. He raised his glass. “Oh? That cheap?” “Bring the contract over. I’ll sign off on it myself!” Standing nearby, I gently tugged on Tyler’s sleeve, signaling him to stop talking. “Two figures” in high society didn’t mean two dollars. It meant two hundred million! Besides, investing in a project required rigorous due diligence. You don’t just sign off on something over a glass of champagne! “Get off me!” Tyler snatched his arm away, shoving me back. “Arthur, you just don’t want me to network with these people, do you?” “Why else would you interrupt when we were having such a great conversation?” My elbow hit the cold marble column, throbbing with pain. Before I could speak, Tyler’s face twisted as if he had just realized something. “Oh, I get it. Are you afraid I’ll tell Dad about you secretly selling off our family heirlooms?” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. Tyler really was like a dog that couldn’t stop eating trash. Here he was, slandering an honest guy like me again. Does this guy ever learn?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “429576”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster