Author: Momo Chan

Ever since my little brother died of a high fever while my mother was busy keeping her precious college junior company, I started cutting her out of all our family photos. When my teacher called my dad, deeply concerned after hearing me say my mom was dead and that I wanted my desk mate’s mom instead, my dad just paused. Then he agreed with me. “Yeah. She passed away a long time ago.” At the school’s family sports day, my dad saw me hand the janitor a ten-dollar bill, asking her to be my mom for the afternoon. He did not stop me. Instead, he quietly slipped the woman another two hundred bucks to attend my parent-teacher conference. Whenever I needed a mother to show up, my dad would just let me buy one. It took my mother a long time to realize she hadn’t heard from us. She finally canceled her endless meetings to pick me up from school, only for my teacher to frown and shut the classroom door in her face. Confused and irritated, she went straight home. The moment she opened the front door, she heard me talking to our building superintendent. “My mom is dead. Do you want to be my new mom?” … Our living room wall was covered in framed photos of my award ceremonies. But the woman standing next to me and my dad in every single picture was a complete stranger. “Kyle. Who the hell are these women standing next to you?” Phoebe’s voice was absolute ice. Her glare could have burned a hole straight through the glass frames. I didn’t understand why she was so angry. I panicked, waving my little hands, trying to explain. The building superintendent wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Sweetie, why would you say such things? Your mother is clearly still alive!” She let out an awkward laugh and practically ran out of the apartment. Hearing that, Phoebe’s mouth twitched with sheer rage. She did not even notice the expensive bakery cake she had brought slipping from her hands and smashing onto the hardwood floor. “I haven’t been home in two months, and you two are telling people I am dead?” “Kyle! Is this how you raise our child?!” Terrified, I rushed forward to shield my dad. “Nobody taught me! Don’t blame Daddy! I said it myself!” Phoebe’s face turned completely black. She began yanking the picture frames off the wall, raising her arm to smash them. Then she paused. Her eyes caught the engraved golden plaques on the frames. First Place. Regional Champion. Her hands froze in mid-air. She looked down at me, her expression unreadable. I held my breath, waiting for her to explode. Phoebe had no idea that ever since she “died” in that other man’s house two months ago, my dad had been secretly paying women to act as my mother for every single family event. Hearing the commotion, my dad walked out of the master bedroom. In just two months, he looked like a walking skeleton. His eyes were hollow, his steps unsteady. Seeing Phoebe, he didn’t scream. He didn’t cry and demand a divorce. He didn’t grab a kitchen knife and threaten her to choose between her family and her precious junior. He just stared at her with a gaze so cold it felt like looking at a corpse. Phoebe’s rage instantly evaporated. Her beautiful eyes darted away, flashing with a brief moment of guilt. Remembering something, she nervously reached into her designer bag and pulled out a brand-new camera, offering it to him with a gentle smile. “Kyle, look. This is the new model you’ve wanted for so long.” “And I know you want to get back into photography. I already submitted your portfolio to the International Lens Competition.” My dad stared at it with zero emotion. There was not a single trace of joy on his face. I recognized it immediately. It was the camera my dad had kept saved in his online cart for two years. To pay the household bills, he had refused to buy it. When he finally swallowed his pride and asked Phoebe for it, she blew him off. Again and again. What Phoebe didn’t know was that the model she just bought was already outdated. My dad had already purchased the newest one himself. Watching his abnormal reaction, Phoebe’s eyebrows knit together. She let out a long sigh, pressing the camera into his hands with a patronizing, indulgent tone. “Alright, honey, it is my fault. I know you’ve been heartbroken since Noah passed away, and I shouldn’t have argued with you.” “Just be patient, okay? Things with Oliver are almost settled. Just give me a little more time…” A little more time. I clenched my tiny fists, looking at my mom with a breaking heart. Two months. My mom was a liar. She had said that exact phrase fifty-two times, and she never kept her word. My dad waited for her. He waited while my little brother coded in the emergency room. He waited while his clinical depression spiraled so badly he started self-harming. He waited until he was completely broken, and she still never came home. Instead, she would just scold him over the phone. “Kyle, I told you! She is my late mentor’s child. Oliver is my junior. Stop being so incredibly insecure!” Right then, Phoebe’s ringtone pierced the quiet room. She quickly answered it on speakerphone. A little girl’s desperate sobbing echoed through our apartment. “Auntie Phoebe, come back! Daddy’s head is burning up, and he collapsed on the floor! He won’t wake up!” Then, a man’s weak, scolding voice came through the line. “Sophie, why did you call her?! We cannot keep burdening her!” I scowled, opening my mouth to scream. That is not your mom! She is my mom! But Phoebe’s eyes instantly went red. Her voice trembled with sheer panic. “Oliver, what are you talking about? I would beg you to burden me for the rest of my life!” She frantically threw the expensive camera onto the sofa. “Kyle, Oliver might have overworked himself. I need to go check on him. I will explain everything later!” Phoebe ran out the door without looking back. My dad and I stood there, staring at the empty doorway. We both knew she was not coming back tonight. My dad picked up the camera she left behind and turned it on. The memory card was full of photos. Phoebe, Oliver, and Sophie. Smiling at theme parks. Eating at expensive restaurants. I saw a photo of Phoebe and Sophie laughing on a Ferris wheel. The timestamp was the exact same day my little brother died in the hospital. I saw a photo of them watching a beautiful fireworks display. That was the night my dad had a depressive episode and ended up bleeding in the bathtub. My chest hurt so badly I couldn’t breathe. I burst into tears. Mom always had time. She just never gave any of it to us. My dad’s entire body shook. He pulled me into his arms, his voice hoarse but terrifyingly resolute. “Jessica. Mommy is dead. Right?” I nodded my head vigorously. Something permanently shifted behind my dad’s eyes. He stood up, grabbed the camera, and hurled it violently against the wall. Crash. The expensive device shattered into a hundred plastic and glass pieces. I knew his heart had just shattered exactly the same way. That night, right before I fell asleep, I heard my dad talking on the phone in the dark. “The lead photographer position in Los Angeles. I accept.” “I will be there in exactly seven days.” Through my sleepy haze, I suddenly remembered something. My dad used to be a globally renowned photographer. Every time he released a print, billionaires and celebrities would get into bidding wars over it. But he gave up his entire reputation for Phoebe, hiding in New York, working a miserable, underpaid job where his boss treated him like garbage. I couldn’t help but smile into my pillow. In seven days, my shining, brilliant dad was coming back. Five days until we leave. I walked into the apartment after school and heard a massive clatter. Phoebe, who hadn’t been home in two days, was holding all the trophies and medals my dad and I had won. She was tossing them into a cardboard moving box. The princess dresses my dad saved up to buy me, and my limited-edition dolls, were all being stuffed into the box without a second thought. My brain short-circuited. I looked nervously at my dad. His face was frozen in absolute disgust. His fists were shaking at his sides. “Phoebe. Are you even human?!” “You don’t come home to see your own daughter for two days, and the first thing you do is steal her things to give to that parasite and his kid?!” Phoebe didn’t even look guilty. She casually inspected one of my gold medals, a dismissive smile on her lips. “Kyle, I don’t want to do this either. But if you hadn’t posted those passive-aggressive photos on Facebook, Oliver and Sophie wouldn’t be so depressed right now.” “Besides, Jessica is incredibly spoiled. What is the big deal about giving some toys to a child who doesn’t even have a mother?” My dad let out a dark, breathless laugh. His eyes instantly turned red with overwhelming disappointment. “I never showed off. Only a filthy mind sees filth in everything.” “Jessica and I worked hard for those trophies. While you were busy playing playing house with another man and his daughter, did you ever stop to think about your own child?!” I stood there, completely numb, unable to understand why my mom had turned into this monster. A year ago, when my dad and I wanted a specific type of traditional pastry, Phoebe drove three hundred miles just to learn how to bake it for us. Now, she was ripping our achievements off the walls to give to strangers. My dad took a deep breath. He seemed to see right through her. He pulled out his phone and sent a voice memo to a local journalist who had been begging for an interview. “Mr. Davis, I accept your offer for the ‘Champion Father and Daughter’ feature interview. Tomorrow morning at seven. 302 Silverlake Drive.” “Kyle! What the hell are you doing?!” Phoebe lunged forward and snatched the phone out of his hand. My dad tilted his head, looking down at her like she was a pathetic bug. “If they want the champion’s trophies, they better be ready to play the part.” “As long as Oliver and his kid can handle a live press interview about winning these awards, they can keep them.” Phoebe ground her teeth together, letting out a furious laugh. “Do you really have to make things this ugly?” “Kyle, what happened to you? You used to be so generous. So understanding.” She suppressed her temper, shooting a dark glare at the movers she had hired, ordering them to take the last box away. Before walking out the door, she gave my dad a look of sheer, unadulterated disappointment. “I am just borrowing them to cheer Sophie up. I will bring them back when we are done. Call the journalist and cancel it right now!” Used to be? I stared at my sneakers, my chest aching. My mom used to be different, too. “You are not taking a single thing out of this house…” my dad started. “Daddy!” I yelled, cutting him off. I turned to Phoebe and gave her a sweet, obedient smile, shaking my head. “It is okay, Daddy. I don’t want them anymore. Let Mommy give them to my new sister.” A flash of joy crossed Phoebe’s eyes. She walked over and patted my head, completely oblivious. “See? Our Jessica is such a good, mature girl.” After she left, I looked at the empty, stripped living room. I walked over to my piggy bank, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and took my dad’s hand. His eyes were completely bloodshot. We walked downstairs to the college student living on the second floor. “Excuse me, miss? Can I give you ten dollars to be my mom for tonight?” “It is my daddy’s birthday.” The girl looked at us, her voice thick with pity. “Did Phoebe…” “She’s dead.” My dad and I said it at the exact same time. The girl seemed to understand immediately. She followed us back to our apartment. While I was singing Happy Birthday, right before my dad blew out the candles, his phone lit up with a notification. My dad stiffened. His fingers trembled as he opened it. I peeked at the screen, and the blood in my veins turned to absolute ice. Oliver had updated his social media. The caption read: Whenever I get angry and break things, she never gets annoyed. She just smiles and hands me more to throw. The attached photo showed my dad’s and my trophies shattered into a hundred pieces on their marble floor. My limited-edition dolls, the ones I loved so much I barely even took them out of the box, had their faces violently scribbled over with black permanent marker. Ping. Phoebe sent a message. It was a money transfer for fifty thousand dollars. My dad tapped the voice memo underneath it. Through the speaker, we could hear the chaotic sound of glass shattering in the background. “Kyle, there was a little accident with the trophies. Just take the money and buy Jessica some new ones. Stop making a big deal out of nothing.” Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. But Mom. Money can’t buy the love Daddy and I put into winning those. My dad squeezed his eyes shut. He immediately took a screenshot of the post and forwarded it to his lawyer. “Mr. Davis, these are photos proving Phoebe’s long-term infidelity with Oliver, along with the massive financial transfers she has been making to him.” “All the evidence is there. Fast-track the divorce proceedings.” My dad didn’t reply to Phoebe for the rest of the night. Her phone calls came in back-to-back, ringing endlessly. “Kyle, I am sorry I forgot your birthday, okay?” “Kyle! Why aren’t you accepting the transfer? Why are you throwing another tantrum?!” “Are you out of your mind?! The journalist actually showed up at Oliver’s house this morning! Do you have any idea how humiliated they were? Are you happy now?!” My dad read the frantic texts lighting up his screen. For the first time in two years, he didn’t shed a single tear. He just calmly hit the block button. Mom. You will never receive another message from Daddy again. Three days until we leave. The city was hosting a massive family track-and-field day. Phoebe had sworn up and down that she would be there. I sat on the competitor’s bench, my tiny hands sweating, waiting for her. Five minutes passed. Thirty minutes passed. She never showed up. My dad’s phone rang. It was her. “There was an absolute emergency at the corporate office. I have to be there. Tell Jessica I owe her one.” Before she could finish her excuse, my dad hung up and blocked her number. I tried to force a smile to make my dad feel better. But then, a sickeningly familiar voice drifted over from the VIP bleachers. “Auntie Phoebe, you are the best! With you here, we are definitely going to win!” My brain completely blanked out. I slowly turned my head. Phoebe was standing by the starting line, hugging a little girl in a matching athletic outfit. I looked up at my dad, completely lost. “Didn’t Mom say she had to work?” My dad shot up from the bench, his face pale with fury, ready to march over and demand an answer. I grabbed his sleeve with both hands, shaking my head. “Daddy, don’t. The race is starting.” My dad forced himself to sit back down, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. It was a parent-child relay. As long as I ran the first two hundred meters and passed the baton to my dad, we would easily take first place. The grand prize was a fully paid family vacation package. Hope sparked in my chest. The starting pistol cracked. I ran like my life depended on it, clutching the red baton tightly in my fist. Fifty meters. One hundred and fifty meters. One hundred and ninety meters. Sweat was stinging my eyes. I reached my arm out, my heart pounding with excitement, ready to pass it to my dad. Suddenly, a violent shove hit my shoulder. I was thrown completely off balance, crashing hard onto the synthetic track. The rough surface tore the skin right off my knees. Blood instantly pooled down my legs. I bit my lip, tears streaming down my face from the burning pain. Right next to me, Sophie—the girl who pushed me—suddenly started screaming at the top of her lungs. “Why did you push me?! Mommy! It hurts!” She threw herself onto the ground, crying so loudly it made my ears ring. My dad sprinted onto the track like a madman, dropping to his knees to shield me. But Phoebe and Oliver reached us first. Phoebe pointed her finger right in my face and screamed. “Jessica! Why the hell would you push Sophie?!” I choked back my sobs, screaming from the sheer injustice. “I didn’t do it!” Sophie pointed her little finger right at me, wailing. “She did! She did it on purpose, Mommy!” A fireball of pure rage exploded in my chest. I was hyperventilating, completely unable to defend myself. My dad finally snapped. He stood up, his voice dripping with lethal venom. “Check the cameras! Since you are calling your own daughter a liar, let the security footage speak for itself!” But Phoebe just scooped Sophie up into her arms, turning her back on us. “Cameras? You’ve raised Jessica to be so utterly manipulative, checking the cameras is only going to humiliate her more!” They rushed off toward the medical tent. I lay there, my face totally drained of color. I reached up and gently touched my dad’s cheek. “Daddy. It doesn’t hurt…” Then the world went dark, and I passed out. When I woke up in the infirmary, I could hear the loud cheers echoing from the podium outside. “Congratulations to Sophie and her family for winning the relay championship!” I lowered my head. Fat tears fell onto my bloody bandages. I ran way faster than her. Why was she the champion? Did Mom… Before I could finish the thought, my dad stormed out of the infirmary, walking straight toward Oliver with a face like thunder. “Oh, hey Kyle. You really didn’t need to come all the way over here to congratulate my daughter.” Oliver leaned in, lowering his voice into a mocking whisper. “But really, thank you so much. If Phoebe hadn’t stepped up to take care of us, I have no idea where we would be right now. “Oh, and you guys totally would have won the race! But Phoebe is just too kind-hearted. She just can’t stand seeing us cry…” Smack. My dad’s fist connected perfectly with Oliver’s jaw. He grabbed a handful of Oliver’s styled hair and yanked him backward, throwing him to the ground. “I warned you to stay the hell away from my daughter!” Oliver’s pathetic shrieks instantly drew Phoebe running from the crowd. “Kyle! Have you completely lost your mind?! Just because you lost a stupid race, you resort to physical assault?!” My dad’s eyes were bloodshot, practically glowing with hatred. “Yeah! And I am going to make sure both of you disgusting parasites burn in hell!” Without a second of hesitation, Phoebe shoved my dad hard in the chest. He stumbled backward, clutching his throat, his face turning a terrifying shade of gray. My heart stopped. Dad’s severe panic attacks. His depression was triggering a physical collapse! I frantically dug into my pockets, pulling out his emergency medication. Dragging my bleeding, bandaged leg, I hobbled toward him as fast as I could. “Daddy!” I was just five feet away when someone’s foot intentionally hooked my ankle. I fell flat on my face, the plastic pill bottle flying out of my hands. Sophie stepped forward and slammed the heel of her sneaker directly onto the bottle, crushing it. “No!” I screamed until my vocal cords physically tore. That was his only emergency medication! His doctor had warned us that if he didn’t take it within twenty minutes of an episode, his heart could stop! Tears streamed down my face. I scrambled onto my hands and knees to grab the crushed pills. Suddenly, Oliver yelled out, “Jessica! Don’t push Sophie!” Before I could even process the lie, Phoebe lunged forward and shoved me out of the way without even blinking. Right behind me was the park’s ornamental lake. In a split second, my dad threw his body in front of mine to take the impact. Splash. My dad plunged backward into the freezing water. He thrashed wildly, his face turning purple as he struggled for air. I lost my mind. I grabbed Phoebe’s leg, sobbing hysterically. “Mommy! Daddy can’t swim!” “Mommy! Daddy is having an episode!” Phoebe’s pupils dilated in panic. She immediately turned toward the lake, ready to jump in. But Oliver let out a dramatic, terrified wail. “Sophie! Oh my god, Sophie, what’s wrong?!” Phoebe’s entire body froze. She completely completely changed direction. She scooped up a perfectly fine Sophie and ran toward the parking lot, shouting at her personal assistant over her shoulder to fish my dad out. I sat on the concrete, staring blankly at her retreating back. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart entirely in half. Mom. Are you really throwing us away? After my dad was rescued and rushed to the hospital, I sat in the waiting room. I pulled a crumpled ten-dollar bill from my pocket and handed it to a young nurse. “Excuse me, miss? Can you be my mom for today and help take care of my daddy?” The nurse looked at me, her eyes full of pity. “Sweetheart, where is your real mom?” My voice was completely dead. “My mom is dead.” My mom died the exact second she turned her back on my drowning father. One day until we leave. My dad had packed our suitcases and finalized our visas. For the past few days, Phoebe had come to the hospital every single afternoon to visit my dad. When she saw the nurse I had hired acting as my “mom”, her face twisted in absolute disgust. “Jessica has a mother! Are you so sexually frustrated you just have to hire random women to play house?!” My dad and I didn’t say a word. The nurse simply cursed her out and told her to leave. Later, Phoebe came back with bags of expensive designer clothes for my dad and high-end toys for me. We took every single bag and gave them to the kids in the pediatric oncology ward next door. Phoebe never knew. Five hours until our flight. My dad checked himself out of the hospital early and took me to the massive amusement park I had been begging to visit for years. “Jessica, I know you have always wanted to come here. I am so sorry my illness kept making me delay it.” I smiled so wide my front teeth showed. Just then, my smartwatch buzzed. It was a text from Phoebe. “Jessica, tell Daddy that I sent Oliver out of the country today. He is gone.” “I am going to take you guys out to a fancy dinner tonight to make up for the birthdays.” A tiny ripple of emotion hit my chest. But then, I looked across the plaza. Standing right outside a luxury boutique, I saw Phoebe walking arm-in-arm with Oliver, laughing and carrying shopping bags. I didn’t tell my dad. I just hit the block button on my watch. Mom is a liar. Again. My dad and I were just getting in line for a ride when the park’s emergency sirens started wailing. A wave of screaming people rushed past us. Four massive, rabid dogs with bloodshot eyes and foaming mouths had broken through a security fence and were charging straight into the crowd. My dad grabbed my hand, trying to pull me toward an exit. But the panicked mob shoved us violently apart. “Jessica!” Pure terror glued my feet to the pavement. My legs completely gave out. Suddenly, I heard Phoebe screaming from the upper balcony of a nearby restaurant. “Jessica! Run! Come to Mommy! Up here!” Tears of relief flooded my eyes. I pushed myself up and started running toward the stairs where she was standing. But Oliver screamed from the other side of the balcony. “Phoebe! Sophie is trapped down there! You have to save her!” Phoebe looked at me running up the steps, then looked back at Sophie, who was frozen near a food cart. My dad’s voice was completely shredded as he roared from the crowd. “Phoebe! Grab Jessica! Sophie’s bodyguard is right next to her!” Phoebe’s face twisted in agony. She looked right into my eyes. “Jessica, just wait right there!” Wait right there. Wait. Again. She spun on her heels, sprinting in the opposite direction to grab Sophie, disappearing into the restaurant. The four rabid dogs locked their eyes on me, surrounding me in a tight circle. My heart died completely. Right as the beasts lunged at me, my dad burst through the crowd like a maniac, wielding a shattered wooden broom handle. He threw himself over my body. The vicious dogs tore into his legs, their teeth sinking deep into his flesh. Hot blood soaked right through my clothes. Even as they tore him apart, he just held my head against his chest, smiling through the unbearable pain. “Don’t be scared, baby. Daddy is right here…” I was sobbing so violently I was convulsing. The dogs pulled back for another strike. Suddenly, a dozen heavily armed private security guards swarmed the area. They used high-voltage stun batons to neutralize the animals in seconds. They rushed my dad and me to a secure medical facility. After my dad received his rabies shots and got his legs heavily bandaged, he refused to stay in a bed. Suppressing the agonizing pain, he grabbed our passports and dragged us straight to the international airport. “Jessica, we are leaving. I cannot stay in this city for another second.” As the plane’s wheels lifted off the runway, pushing us up into the clouds, I only had one thought. Mom. This time, you will never find us again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464472”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day my brother was reclaimed by his wealthy biological family, he knelt before them, eyes red and brimming with tears. “My sister is the only family I have. If she doesn’t come with me, I’m not going back.” Mr. and Mrs. Stone had no choice but to bring me to the estate. Upon arrival, Chloe—the fake heiress who had stolen my brother’s identity for eighteen years—was insufferable. Spoiled and arrogant, she constantly targeted us. Initially, my brother found her annoying, snapping back whenever our parents told him to accommodate her. “Susan is my only sister.” But he stopped saying that. Eventually, he started comparing us. “I wish you were as outgoing as Chloe. You’re always so quiet. It’s boring.” Then, he forgot my birthday. Again. I didn’t protest, quietly baking a small cake in the kitchen. The moment I finished icing it, he snatched the plate and carried it to Chloe. “Her custom cake was ruined in delivery. Give this to her.” Heartbroken, I stayed silent for the rest of the night. Seeing my silence, impatience filled his eyes. “Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over a cake? If you didn’t want to give it to her, you should have just said so.” Chloe pouted against the counter. “I told you your sister was petty, but you didn’t believe me. I don’t understand why you dragged this dead weight into our house.” This time, my brother didn’t defend me. I realized then that even he now saw me as a burden. … It took me four entire hours to bake that cake. And now, it was completely destroyed. Mashed to pieces by a silver fork. The letter “L” for Susan, which I had painstakingly spelled out using dried blueberries, had been aggressively scooped out. It was smeared together with the plastic “Happy Birthday” topper, completely coated in ruined frosting. Chloe grabbed it with a paper napkin and tossed it straight into the trash can like a piece of garbage. Her voice rang in my ears, dripping with disgust. “What is this gross stuff? It tastes awful! It’s nothing compared to what our Michelin-star chef makes!” “You’re just a picky eater,” my brother teased. His words sounded like a complaint, but his eyes were full of pure adoration. “If you don’t want it, just throw it away. I’ll have the chef make you a new one.” “Deal! But tell him to use icing to write ‘Liam Stone will be Chloe’s servant forever’ on top! That’s what you get for stealing Mom and Dad’s love the second you got here, and for always taking this dead weight’s side!” In the past, my brother and Chloe were like oil and water. He used to hate it when anyone called me “dead weight.” Now, he didn’t even blink. He just chuckled, affectionately ruffling Chloe’s hair, his voice full of helpless indulgence. “Alright, alright. I’m terrified of you. It’s all my fault, okay?” They flirted openly, completely ignoring my presence. It made me feel like I was the intruder in this house. And honestly, I was. My brother was the biological son the Stones had lost eighteen years ago. Even though Chloe was the child swapped at birth, she had grown up surrounded by luxury and wealth. She already had a deep, unbreakable bond with Mr. and Mrs. Stone. The day they brought my brother home, they couldn’t bear to let Chloe go, so they officially adopted her. From start to finish, they were a real family. I was the only extra piece. When I woke up this morning and saw my brother’s social media post—a photo of him and Chloe smiling at a theme park—I knew he had forgotten my birthday again. I had already stopped hoping he would spend my birthday with me. But why couldn’t I even keep a single, stupid cake? The tears I had been fighting back finally slipped out, falling heavily onto the expensive marble floor. My brother frowned. Out of habit, he reached out to wipe my tears away like he used to. “What are you crying for?” Chloe suddenly let out a cruel, mocking laugh. “You ate one piece of her cake and she’s acting like the world is ending? She’s been sulking all night! I bet her ‘good girl’ routine is completely fake.” “Liam, you spoil her way too much. That’s why she acts like such a drama queen.” My brother’s hand froze in mid-air. He pulled it back, the warmth completely draining from his face. “This isn’t your old house anymore. You live under the Stone roof and eat Stone food. It’s just a cake. Don’t act so petty and embarrass everyone.” Seeing the cold impatience in his eyes, my heart turned to ice, inch by inch. The day Liam was reclaimed by the Stone family, I stayed awake all night. I was incredibly happy for him, but I was also terrified of being left behind in the slums. Sensing my fear, he held me tight and promised me over and over again. “I will never abandon you, Susan. Wherever my home is, your home is.” But now, he was standing here telling me… This isn’t your old house. I didn’t know when it happened, but in his heart, I had already become a burden. “I understand.” I nodded numbly, hearing my own voice tremble. “Liam. I think I’ll just move out.” Chloe rolled her eyes dramatically. “You make it sound like living in a mansion is some kind of torture! You have no royal blood, but you sure have princess syndrome! Are you really using the ‘runaway’ card for attention?” Liam’s face darkened. “What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” I spoke softly. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I just think living in the school dorms will be better for my studying.” But Liam’s frown only deepened. “Don’t I know you? You wait until right now to say you want to move out? You’re just doing this to spite me over that stupid cake!” “Enough. If you want a cake so badly, I’ll have the kitchen bake you one right now.” He didn’t spare me another glance. He turned to Chloe, a fond smile returning to his face as he used a tissue to wipe a smudge of frosting off the corner of her mouth. “You’re acting like a toddler. You got frosting all over your face.” “Mom and Dad say I’ll always be their baby! Do you have a problem with that?” “Okay, okay. You’re our forever baby.” I couldn’t stand being in that room another second. I turned around and walked silently up the grand staircase. After texting my teacher to apply for a dorm room, I sat on my bed, staring blankly at my carefully decorated bedroom. The expensive, handcrafted teddy bear on the bed. The rare orchids on the windowsill. The custom bookshelf perfectly designed so I could reach the top shelf. The soothing nightlight on the nightstand. Every single item had been meticulously chosen by my brother when we first moved into the Stone estate. Even the layout of the room had been specially designed to match my tiny bedroom in our old slum apartment, just so I wouldn’t feel homesick. He had said… “This is our home now. We used to be so poor I couldn’t even afford to buy you a decent bookshelf.” “Now I have the money. I want to give you the best of everything. I will never let you suffer again.” I was so happy back then. We had moved into a mansion I couldn’t even dream of. We didn’t have to stress over water and electricity bills anymore. I didn’t have to lie awake during storms, terrified the roof would leak and flood the apartment. And my brother didn’t have to work three grueling jobs, starting before dawn, just to scrape together enough money for my tuition. I thought everything was finally going to be okay. I never imagined that the price for this perfect life would be losing him completely. A sudden knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. When I opened it, a beautifully wrapped cake box was shoved right into my face. Liam popped his head out from behind it. “Happy birthday, Susan!” Seeing my red, swollen eyes, a flash of genuine guilt crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I just remembered it was your birthday today.” For a split second, I thought I saw the old Liam—the brother who used to put me first. I held the heavy cake box in my hands. It felt like finding a warm fire in the middle of a freezing blizzard. I stepped back, letting him walk into the room, my heart wavering. But that wavering hope was completely shattered the second I opened the box. The cake was entirely covered in freshly sliced mangoes. My lips parted, and I managed to choke out a single sentence. “Liam. Did you forget? I’m highly allergic to mangoes.” Liam’s eyebrows immediately snapped together. For a very long time after that day, I could never forget the look in his eyes. It was the look you give a piece of trash that’s in your way. He clicked his tongue, his tone instantly turning hostile. “If there are things you can’t eat, you should have told me earlier. Now you’re just wasting food.” As he spoke, he grabbed a fork and aggressively scraped every single piece of mango off the cake, then shoved the mangled dessert back toward me. “Chloe specifically told the chef to make this for you to apologize. She knows you like orchids, so she asked him to pipe buttercream flowers. She thought you’d love it.” “She can be a little blunt sometimes, but she has a good heart. You need to eat at least one bite, or she’s going to be very upset.” My throat tightened. I dug my fingernails so hard into my palms that they bled, but I didn’t even feel the pain. I just repeated myself, numbly. “But I’m allergic to mangoes.” Liam snapped back. “That’s why I scraped them off! You can eat a little bit, it won’t kill you.” Just then, Chloe pushed the door open and strolled in. “Does Susan hate the cake I ordered? I’ve been trying to cheer her up forever. Why is she so hard to please?” Before I could even open my mouth, Liam spoke up for her. “It’s the thought that counts. Even if she hates it, she has to accept it.” “Good! Now that you’re done babysitting, hurry up and come downstairs! I hate the designs the chef did for the first few cakes. Come help me eat them so we can throw them out!” My brother laughed, shaking his head. “Are you treating me like a human garbage disposal?” “No way! You’re my favorite brother in the whole world, okay?” Liam stiffened for a second. “You only ever call me ‘brother’ when you want something. I swear I owe you from a past life.” He complained, but his eyes were shining with absolute joy. So it was true. He had simply run out of patience for me. When it was Chloe, throwing away entire cakes wasn’t a “waste.” When it was Chloe, just hearing her call him “brother” made him ecstatic. Now, no matter what I did, I was nothing but an annoyance. The very next day, I quietly packed my bags and moved into the school dorms. I barely slept. Every waking second was spent aggressively studying for exams or working part-time jobs around the city. The exhausting, non-stop schedule kept my brain completely occupied, leaving me no time to think about anything else. Until the day my brother finally called me. The second I answered, he immediately started screaming. “Susan! Why haven’t you come home yet?!” “You used to be so well-behaved, and now you’re staying out all night?!” I answered him calmly. “I told you before. I moved into the dorms.” “Who gave you permission?! Are you feeling brave now? Is this your late rebellious phase? Get your ass back to this house right now!” I stayed completely silent. When I didn’t answer, he let out a dark, furious laugh. “Fine. Then don’t ever come back! Let’s see how long you survive out there on your own!” For the next few weeks, I stuck to my routine. Classes, studying, working. As the national college entrance exams drew closer, I started to feel a sense of peace. The dust was finally settling. Until three days before the exams, when Liam suddenly called me again. His voice was hoarse and incredibly exhausted. “Susan. I’m at the hospital.” “You haven’t been home in so long. I want to see you.” My grip tightened on my phone. Ever since his heart started leaning toward Chloe, this was the first time he had ever softened his tone and reached out to me. I thought about the early admission letter I had just received from a prestigious university up north. I thought about the money I had saved up from my jobs—enough to leave this city and start over. I hesitated for a long time, but eventually, I answered. “Okay.” This would probably be the last time we ever saw each other. I didn’t want to leave with any regrets. I wanted to tell him that I got accepted early. That I was moving up north. That I would never be his burden again. That I would never bother him again. But I had no idea what was waiting for me. When I rushed into the hospital room and pushed the door open, I was instantly met with a vicious slap across the face. A stranger—a middle-aged woman—lunged at me like a wild animal. She punched me, kicked me, and grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking me downward. “You’re the one who hid the needles in her pencil case! You sliced her hand open!” “The exams are in two days! If she hadn’t noticed the blood, my daughter’s entire future would have been destroyed because of you!” “You’re only eighteen! How can you be so evil?!” I shoved her away, totally disoriented and in shock. “I didn’t do anything! I don’t even know who your daughter is!” “Susan, stop lying! I saw you shoving the needles into her pencil case with my own eyes!” Chloe stepped out from behind the angry mother, pointing directly at me with absolute certainty. My face turned to ice. “Why would I put needles in a stranger’s pencil case? You have zero proof. How dare you accuse me?” “Who says we don’t have proof?” The second I heard Liam’s voice, the blood in my veins completely froze. He held up his phone, playing a video clip. Because of the terrible camera angle, the footage showed me sneaking up to a student’s desk and slipping something into their pencil case. Suddenly, I remembered. The teacher from the neighboring class had asked me to drop off a reward pen on the desk of their top-ranked student. It was a pen. Not needles. But before I could even explain, the furious mother screamed. “Chloe saw you do it! We have witnesses and video evidence, and you’re still denying it?!” I turned my head and looked directly at Liam. I gritted my teeth and asked him one question. “Did you see it with your own eyes too?” Liam avoided my gaze. He stayed completely silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Susan. I know you’re jealous, and I know you target Chloe at home. But I never thought you would actually attack a classmate. I am so disappointed in you.” I stared at him in sheer disbelief. With that one sentence, he had officially labeled me a violent criminal. “I can’t believe the school let a monster like you walk the halls! I’m going straight to the principal! I’m going to make sure the entire city knows what kind of psycho you are!” The furious mother stormed out of the hospital room, slamming the door behind her. I looked at Liam, my entire body violently shaking. “Why?” His fists clenched tightly at his sides. His eyes were a chaotic storm of emotions. He lowered his voice. “Susan. Chloe didn’t mean to do it. She just wanted to play a prank. She didn’t think it would escalate this far.” “If Mom and Dad find out, they’ll be completely devastated. Chloe is used to being the perfect daughter. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her cry this hard. She’s terrified.” By the time he finished speaking, his voice was dripping with pure heartbreak—for Chloe. I stared at him, pronouncing every single word with lethal precision. “So you played the victim over the phone just to lure me here, so you could force me to take the fall for Chloe?” His breathing hitched. He forced the words out of his throat. “I already secured a backup plan for you. I won’t let your life be ruined.” The absolute last shred of hope in my heart was ripped to shreds. I don’t even remember how I made it back to the school campus. All I remember are the disgusted glares from the other students, and the toxic whispers following me down the halls. “That’s her. She’s the one who hid the needles. It’s so dangerous having someone like her at this school!” “Why isn’t she in jail? She belongs behind bars. Fucking psycho.” Before I even made it to my classroom, I was called into the principal’s office. The principal slid a formal document across his desk. “The victim’s family is threatening to go to the press. They are demanding immediate action. Your early admission status has been officially revoked.” “Furthermore, the board has unanimously decided to expel you.” I stood there, frozen in place. My blood ran completely cold. I couldn’t understand it. I worked so incredibly hard to protect the tiny sliver of a future I had built for myself. But ever since I followed Liam to the Stone estate, all I had done was lose. I lost my brother. I lost my home. I lost my early admission. And now, I had lost my right to graduate high school. All I wanted to do was leave quietly. Why was it so hard? My phone buzzed in my pocket. Liam had sent me a file—a transfer agreement—and two plane tickets. “The Stone family helps fund a private academy in Los Angeles. I already pulled some strings. They are ready to accept your transfer.” “It’s too late for you to take the exams this year, but with your grades, you can easily retake your senior year and still get into a top-tier college.” “Once the exams are over here, I will fly to LA with you to help you settle in.” So he knew. He knew exactly what the consequences would be. He knew I would be completely destroyed. And he still chose to sacrifice me to save Chloe. I held the expulsion papers in my hands, walking like a zombie to the front gates of the school. I stood there for hours, until the security guard finally told me to leave. Two weeks later, the national exams were over. I was standing on the train platform, pulling my cheap suitcase behind me, about to board the bullet train. A text from Liam popped up on my screen. “I’m at the airport. Where are you?” I sent him one final message. “I am not going to LA with you. We are officially done.” The second the message delivered, Liam’s calls started flooding my phone, back to back. I didn’t answer a single one. I blocked his number. I blocked his social media. I completely erased him from my life. Then, I turned around and stepped onto the train. Goodbye forever, Liam.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464471”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Stepping out of the terminal after a brutal five-year stint out of state, my chest hummed with a foolish kind of hope. I thought Christopher would finally drop to one knee and keep the promise he made before I left. Instead, he stood by the baggage claim with his hands in his pockets. His face was a mask of absolute indifference. “Margo. I’m sorry.” Before the shock could even register, he kept talking. “That transfer order. I was the one who pulled the strings.” “I deliberately shipped you off to that godforsaken mining project in the Mojave. I needed to clear the board so Lily and I could figure things out.” “She got pregnant back then. I didn’t have a choice.” A suffocating silence stretched between us. I bit the inside of my cheek until the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. Five years. Five years of swallowing sand in the desert, enduring blistering heatwaves, pulling sixteen-hour shifts until my bones felt like lead. It wasn’t a stepping stone for my career. It was a cage he built from scratch. “You were always so intense, so relentless. I was terrified you’d do something to hurt her.” “I’m not telling you this to beg for forgiveness. I just need you to process this now, so you don’t make a scene later.” His tone was heavy with a sickening kind of pity. I took a step back, dodging the hand he reached out toward me. A broken laugh clawed its way up my throat, bringing hot tears to my eyes. “Christopher, you just took something that could have ended with a shred of dignity and burned it to the ground.” 1 Christopher’s BMW tailed my cab the entire ride into the city, flashing its headlights twice. The cab driver caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “Hey miss, that Beemer’s been riding my bumper for miles. A friend of yours?” I wiped a smudge of dried blood from the corner of my mouth. “No.” “You want me to lose him?” “Don’t bother. He knows exactly where I’m going.” The downtown apartment complex looked exactly the same, right down to the faded flyers in the elevator. I dragged my suitcase down the hall and jammed my key into the lock. The cylinder wouldn’t turn. The mechanism felt entirely wrong. Then the door swung open from the inside. Lily stood there in a silk slip dress, balancing a toddler on her hip. She blinked in surprise when she saw me, but the shock quickly melted into a sugar-sweet smile. “Oh. You’re back.” The little boy wrapped his arms around her neck, staring at me with wide eyes. “Mommy, who’s that lady?” “Just someone who used to live here, sweetie.” Lily smoothed the boy’s hair and looked back at me. “Want to come in for a bit? Christopher mentioned you were flying in today, but I didn’t think you’d be here this fast.” My eyes drifted past her shoulder into the living room. A massive wedding portrait hung above the fireplace. The leather sofa I bought was gone, replaced by a plush sectional. Tiny clothes were draped over a drying rack on the balcony. “This place…” “Is my home.” Lily cut me off. Her voice was soft, perfectly modulated. “It has been for five years. The second Christopher got the deed, he moved me right in.” The wheels of my suitcase jammed against the threshold. “He told me that as soon as you hit the desert, we were getting married.” The toddler started squirming, whining to be put down. Lily set him on the hardwood, and he immediately bolted toward a toy chest in the corner. She leaned against the doorframe, her eyes doing a slow, evaluating sweep of my body. “You’ve lost a ton of weight. The outback must have been brutal, huh?” My knuckles turned white around the handle of my luggage. “Is Christopher coming up?” “Hard to say.” She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “What exactly are you looking for here? A payout? An apology?” “I don’t want anything from him.” “Then why did you even show up?” Looking at her flawlessly pampered face, a wave of pure nausea hit me. “I came back,” I said, keeping my voice dangerously level, “to get my things.” Lily let out a soft, mocking laugh. “What things? I tossed your clothes ages ago. Christopher said your books were just collecting dust, so we donated them. Oh, and those stupid potted plants you left behind? Dead.” She paused, tilting her head. “I made sure not to water them.” I turned on my heel and hammered the elevator button. Her voice drifted down the hall. “Margo, don’t make this ugly. You’ve got absolutely nothing left. You’re out of your league here.” The metal doors slid shut. I rested my forehead against the freezing steel panel and closed my eyes. Five years. I thought I was climbing the corporate ladder. I was just funding their honeymoon. 2 The next morning, I walked into the corporate headquarters to process my return. Brenda, the HR manager, looked like she had seen a ghost when I sat at her desk. “Margo, regarding your position…” “I know. Lily took it.” I shoved my bag into the corner of the cubicle. “It’s fine. Just put me on a standard engineering desk.” Brenda let out a heavy sigh and pulled up my file on her monitor. “Your record for the past five years just says you volunteered for a remote deployment, overcame hostile environments, and completed your quota.” “Because I did.” “But,” she lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, “those three massive tech projects you spearheaded? The patent filings list Lily as the lead architect.” The air left my lungs. “That’s impossible. I wrote every line of that code…” “You signed off on it.” Brenda clicked open a PDF and spun the monitor toward me. “Look right here. It’s an agreement from five years ago. You authorized the IP to be shared as a collaborative team effort.” The signature was definitely mine. But I had zero memory of ever putting a pen to that paper. “You were rushing to catch your flight. Christopher handled a lot of your exit paperwork for you.” Brenda looked away, her face tight with pity. “Margo, look… just go find an empty desk for now.” They put me at a cramped table next to the industrial printer. It was piled high with broken keyboards and junk mail. Colleagues walked past me. Some practically snapped their necks looking the other way. A few offered tight, awkward nods. Only Rachel walked over, leaning in close. “What are you even doing here?” “My deployment ended.” “Yeah, but…” She flicked her eyes toward the glass corner office. Lily’s office. “Watch your back. She’s the department head now, and she’s married to the CEO.” I dropped my notebook onto the desk. “I know.” That afternoon, my phone buzzed. Christopher’s name flashed on the screen. I let it ring out. He called again. Three times in a row. On the fourth ring, I picked up. “Margo, we need to talk.” “We have absolutely nothing to discuss.” “Lily is pregnant with our second. The doctor said her blood pressure is spiking. She can’t handle stress right now.” His voice sounded incredibly tired, as if he were the victim. “Could you just… steer clear of us for a while?” In the background, I heard the kid screaming. “Daddy, Mommy is throwing up!” “I’m coming, buddy.” Christopher rushed his words into the receiver. “Just lay low. I’m begging you.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen, remembering the day I got my transfer orders. I had called him, sobbing in the stairwell. He told me to wait right there. He rushed over, pulled me into his arms, and kissed my forehead. “Go out there and crush it,” he had whispered. “I’ll be right here waiting. The second you get back, I’m putting a ring on your finger.” That day, his shirt had smelled like a faint, expensive perfume. Not the cologne I bought him. Now I knew. It was Lily’s perfume. 3 I scheduled a full panel at the clinic the next day. The specialist stared at my chart, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Margo, looking at these numbers…” “Give it to me straight.” “Severe endometriosis, coupled with advanced ovarian decline.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “The chances of you conceiving naturally are practically zero.” I gripped the edge of the printed report so hard the paper sliced into my thumb. “Is it because of the desert?” “Chronic stress, severe sleep deprivation, physical exhaustion, and exposure to extreme temperatures…” The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. “You’re still young. If we start aggressive hormone therapy now, there might be a sliver of hope.” Walking out of the clinic, the hallway felt suffocatingly long. It was lined with pregnant women. They were rubbing their bellies, glowing with a soft, quiet kind of joy. One husband was kneeling on the linoleum, pressing his ear against his wife’s stomach to listen for a kick. I turned my shoulder, slipped past them, and pushed open the heavy fire door to the stairwell. It was empty and echoing. I sank to the concrete steps and buried my face in my knees. Don’t cry. If you cry, they win. Three days later, the company hosted its annual gala. I planned to skip it, but Rachel practically dragged me out of my chair. “You’re a senior engineer. Skipping makes you look like a coward.” I threw on a plain black slip dress and stood in the darkest corner of the ballroom. The bass from the speakers thumped in my chest. The chandeliers were blinding. Christopher and Lily made their entrance, and the crowd swarmed them like royalty. “Mr. Reed! Lily! Congratulations!” “Number two on the way! You guys are truly blessed!” Lily beamed, her manicured hand resting protectively over her slight bump. Christopher had his arm locked around her waist. He looked down at her with a gaze so soft and devoted it made my stomach turn. A few people noticed me lingering in the shadows. Whispers rippled through the crowd before they went back to clinking glasses. Lily spotted me. She wove through the crowd, her bump leading the way. “Margo. Long time no see.” I took a slow sip of my champagne. “Congrats.” “Thanks.” She stroked her stomach. “We did the early genetics test. It’s a girl. Christopher is over the moon. He keeps saying he wants her to look exactly like me.” She took a step closer, dropping her voice so only I could hear. “You know what’s funny? Christopher told me that if he hadn’t shipped you off, he would have dragged his feet for years trying to choose between us.” “What’s your point?” “My point is,” she smiled, showing perfectly white teeth, “thank you for stepping aside. If you hadn’t made that little sacrifice, we wouldn’t have this beautiful life.” My hand started to shake. A drop of champagne spilled over the rim, soaking into my black dress. “Lily,” I locked eyes with her, “do you have any idea what happened while you were carrying your first kid? I was out in the Mojave. It was freezing at night. I was running a hundred-and-four-degree fever in a metal trailer, completely delirious. I almost died.” She blinked, utterly unfazed. “And?” “I called him. Seventeen times. He never picked up.” “Oh, that was our anniversary.” Her smile deepened. “He was helping me pick out my wedding dress.” I took a sharp breath, the air burning my lungs. “It was an Oscar de la Renta,” she added casually. “The limited edition one with the pearl embroidery on the bodice.” I had tried that exact dress on five years ago. Christopher had stood outside the fitting room and told me, “When we get married, that’s the one.” He just never meant we. I slammed my glass down on a passing waiter’s tray and headed for the exit. Christopher materialized out of the crowd, blocking my path. He looked at me, his jaw tight. “Margo…” “Don’t say my name.” My voice was dead. “You make me sick.” I pushed through the revolving doors. It was pouring outside, the city lights bleeding into a blurry mess of rain. I stood under the awning, letting the cold air hit my face. Footsteps echoed behind me. Christopher had followed me out. He held out a sleek black umbrella. “Take it. You’re going to freeze.” “Why do you care?” He went quiet for a second. “I know you hate me.” “I don’t hate you.” I looked at him, feeling nothing but a vast, hollow emptiness. “I just feel stupid for wasting five years of my life on a stray dog.” “Those five years…” “Those five years,” I cut him off, my voice slicing through the sound of the rain, “I was working sixteen-hour shifts in the dirt. My periods stopped for months at a time. My hair was falling out in clumps. I survived every single day by telling myself I was coming home to marry you.” The color drained completely from his face. “And you,” a dark laugh escaped me, “spent those five years getting married, playing house, and knocking her up twice.” “I’m sorry.” “What is that word supposed to do for me?” I took a step toward him. “Christopher, you are so pathetic I can’t even muster the energy to hate you. You just make me feel like a joke.” The rain was coming down in sheets now. He opened the umbrella, trying to step closer to shield me. I smacked his hand away and walked out from under the awning, straight into the storm. The water was freezing, soaking me to the bone in seconds. 4 A week later, my phone rang. It was my mother. She was hysterical. “Margo, your father is in the ICU!” I booked the first flight home. My dad, who already had a fragile heart, was lying in a hospital bed looking like a ghost. My mom grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Someone mailed your father a package. They said… they said you were a homewrecker. That you slept your way through the company and tried to ruin a married man’s life.” “Mom, that’s a lie!” “They sent photos!” She was sobbing uncontrollably. “Chat logs between you and that Christopher guy. Statements from people at your office!” I snatched the manila envelope off the bedside table. The photos were deepfakes. The text threads were fabricated. But they looked terrifyingly real. “Dad, you have to listen to me, none of this is real…” My father slowly opened his eyes and looked at me for a long time. “I believe you, kid.” He forced a weak smile. Then his eyes rolled back. The heart monitor flatlined, a shrill, piercing scream filling the room. Doctors flooded in. I was shoved out into the hallway. Christopher was standing by the elevator banks. He was holding a ridiculously expensive floral arrangement. “I came to check on your dad.” He looked incredibly uncomfortable. A passing nurse murmured to her colleague, “That Mr. Reed is such a class act. Coming to see his crazy ex’s dying father.” I stared at him. Something inside me simply snapped. I lunged forward and slapped him across the face with everything I had. The sound echoed down the corridor like a gunshot. The flowers crashed to the floor, glass shattering everywhere. “You did this!” “Margo, I have no idea what you’re talking about…” “Don’t lie to me!” I grabbed him by the lapels of his custom suit, shaking him. “Those photos. Those fake texts. Who else had that kind of access? Who else wants to destroy me?” He gripped my wrists, trying to peel me off. “Margo, calm down!” “How the hell am I supposed to calm down!” I was screaming now, my throat burning. “If my dad dies, I swear to God I’ll kill you!” The doors to the ICU swung open. The lead surgeon walked out, slowly pulling off his surgical mask. “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.” My entire universe collapsed into dust. The funeral was three days later. My mother wouldn’t even let me inside the chapel. “Get out,” she hissed through the cracked door of the vestibule. “Your father wouldn’t want you here.” I knelt on the wet pavement outside the church doors from sunrise to sunset. In the late afternoon, a black town car pulled up. Christopher and Lily stepped out. They arranged a massive wreath of white lilies by the entrance. The ribbon read: In deepest sympathy. Christopher Reed and Lily Harper. Lily looked down at me, her face a picture of pious sorrow. “My condolences.” I looked up at Christopher. If looks could physically eviscerate a man, he would have been gutted on the church steps. He went pale and looked away. Lily tugged at his sleeve. “Let’s go, honey.” They got back in their car and drove off. Finally, my mother pushed the doors open. She looked down at me, her eyes hollowed out with absolute hatred. “Are you happy now? He’s dead. Is this what you wanted?” I dragged myself forward on my knees, trying to grab her hand. “Mom…” “Don’t touch me!” She shoved me back hard. “I don’t have a daughter anymore.” I collapsed onto the concrete, pressing my forehead against the cold, damp stone. On the seventh day after my father’s death, HR called. “Margo Brooks, your employment is terminated effectively immediately.” Brenda’s voice was pure ice. “The board found you guilty of severe ethical violations. We have evidence that during your deployment, you engaged in inappropriate relationships with multiple male subordinates.” I sprinted to the corporate tower and barged straight into the HR department. “Where is the proof?” The HR director tossed a stack of glossy photos onto the conference table. They were candid shots of me and my male colleagues working late at the desert site, looking exhausted, drinking beers on the hoods of trucks. But someone had added filthy, suggestive captions to every single one. “This is slander!” “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” The director crossed her arms. “Reed Enterprises does not tolerate this kind of liability.” I took the elevator straight to the executive floor to find Christopher. His assistant physically blocked the door. “Mr. Reed is in a board meeting.” I sat in the lobby until the sun went down. When he finally walked out, he froze when he saw me. “I know why you’re here.” He loosened his tie, looking exhausted. “The board made a decision. My hands are tied.” “Christopher, you set me up.” “It wasn’t me.” He frowned. “Lily told me…” “You just swallow whatever poison Lily feeds you?” I backed him into the glass wall of the boardroom. “She murdered my father. Now she’s trying to erase me from the industry. And you’re just going to hold the door open for her?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Margo, you need to get a grip.” “I have a grip.” I whispered. “I just want to know how you sleep at night.” He didn’t answer. I turned and walked away. When I stepped out of the lobby into the street, a small crowd was waiting. A dozen people, holding up camera phones and makeshift signs. Internet trolls who had eaten up whatever PR spin Lily had leaked online. “Homewrecker!” “Corporate trash!” “Get out of our city!” Someone threw a heavy paper cup. It exploded against my chest. Red paint. It dripped off my chin, soaking through my shirt, splashing onto my shoes. I stood paralyzed on the sidewalk, dripping red. Christopher’s car pulled out of the underground garage and braked sharply. He threw the door open, yelling at the security guards to scatter the crowd. He walked over to me, looking at the mess, and let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Margo, why can’t you just walk away with some dignity? Why do you have to push things to the brink?” I slowly wiped my face. The red smeared across my cheek, dripping from my fingertips. “Dignity?” I looked at him and laughed. “What dignity did you leave me?” He didn’t have an answer. He got back in his car and drove away. When I got back to my apartment, the locks were changed again. My suitcase was sitting in the hallway. The landlord poked his head out of the adjacent door. “I packed your stuff. Grab it and get lost.” “Are you serious? Why?” “People have been calling the management office all day. Saying you’re a degenerate, that you’re ruining the building’s reputation.” He waved me off like a stray dog. “Lease is terminated.” I sat on the floor next to my suitcase. It was the exact same bag I had dragged out to the desert five years ago. Nothing had changed. And yet, I had lost absolutely everything. I spent the night sitting on a plastic chair inside a 24-hour diner. Through the greasy window, I watched the city wake up in the morning light. It was a beautiful skyline. But I never wanted to see it again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464470”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Waiting in line at the pharmacy, my phone buzzed with a text from my husband. “Babe, the doctor said it’s late-stage. There’s no coming back from this.” “Maybe we should just… stop the treatments.” “I’m terrified of losing you and ending up with absolutely nothing left.” My finger hovered over the screen for a long time before I finally typed back a simple agreement. He had spent nine years living in a damp basement apartment with me, working five jobs a day just to pay my medical bills. I couldn’t drag him down anymore. Dragging my wrecked body to my shift at the coffee shop, I noticed a girl decked out in designer labels chatting loudly on speakerphone. “I told you she was faking the terminal illness to drain your bank account. Who just agrees to stop treatment that easily?” I was about to walk over and ask her to take it off speaker when a terribly familiar voice drifted from the phone. It was my husband. Michael. “I honestly thought her love was pure. Turns out even when I pretend to be dead broke, I still attract gold diggers.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. The girl’s sugary laugh grated against my ears. “Well, are you ready to come home and marry me now?” “No rush. She told me she’s at death’s door. I want to see exactly how she plans to fake her own funeral.” I stood perfectly still, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. The poverty was a lie. He never believed in me. But it didn’t matter. I would be gone soon anyway. The girl rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re so hung up on. You willingly lived in a moldy basement for nine years. There is no way she’s prettier than me.” A soft chuckle came through the speaker. “She’s just a haggard mess now. But her acting totally fooled me back then. I really thought she loved me for me. You have no idea… she literally starved herself, eating one meal a day just to buy me a pair of hundred-dollar sneakers.” “I never wore them, obviously. They were cheap garbage. But I did enjoy the thrill of having someone from the bottom of the barrel sacrifice everything for me. I just never expected she’d use that exact same dedication to fake stomach cancer.” My arms hung limp at my sides, my fingernails biting into my palms. Those sneakers he said he was saving for a special occasion were just too cheap for him. Every drop of blood I bled for him was nothing but a pathetic parlor trick in his eyes. I forced my face to remain blank and walked over to her table. “Miss, please turn off your speakerphone.” Tiffany bristled like a cornered cat. “This place is completely dead! Who am I bothering? Do you have any idea who I am, or are you just blind?” I kept my eyes pinned to the floor and stayed quiet. My silence only fueled her rage. “I swear to God, I will have you fired before your shift ends.” She killed the call and stormed out, but not before I caught Michael’s gentle voice coaxing her. “Easy, babe. Don’t waste your breath on trash like her.” Trash. To him, I was always just a bottom-feeder. A sharp pain clawed at my stomach. I doubled over, coughing violently until a mouthful of hot blood splattered onto the floor. Michael, when you met me, you played the part of a struggling kid perfectly. We went to the same college. He was the golden boy everyone knew, and I was a ghost. Walking back to my dorm after a late-night shift, a group of guys backed me into an alley. They whistled, boxing me in. “Hey sweetheart, just getting off work? Why don’t you come clock some overtime with us?” I was shaking so hard I couldn’t feel my legs. That was the exact moment Michael crashed into my life. Wearing a threadbare jacket, he chased them off. I didn’t care about looking tough. I grabbed his sleeve and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. He walked me all the way back to my building. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, but I fell for him completely. When he finally asked me out, his face was flushed red. He told me his family was drowning in debt and he couldn’t give me the life I deserved. I looked at him with stars in my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. As long as I have you, I have enough.” He hugged me so tight I thought my ribs would crack. I thought he was moved by my words. Now I realize he was probably just laughing at how incredibly easy I was to manipulate. Another coughing fit hit me, loud enough to bring my manager rushing out of the back room. “Stella, honey, what’s going on? You sound awful.” I waved her off, forcing a smile. She rested a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Look, don’t hate me for this. But you don’t need to come in tomorrow.” I stared at her, the cough dying in my throat. “Some big shot named Michael made a call. He said you disrespected the wrong person.” I gave a slow, numb nod. So this was his gift to his real girlfriend. He was cutting off my only lifeline. If that was the game, fine. He called me a gold digger, so I was going to dig. I needed to leave something behind for Nana before I died. My manager slipped me two days of extra pay and told me to focus on getting better. I smiled and took the cash. I didn’t tell her that getting better was entirely off the table. Michael didn’t get home until after midnight. He was wearing his usual delivery uniform, but the fabric was pristine. I had been so blind. He blinked in surprise when he saw me sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re home early. Doesn’t the shop close at ten?” “I got fired.” He took off his helmet and ruffled my hair, the same familiar gesture he always used. “What happened? You always bust your ass there.” I tilted my head, subtly dodging his hand. “I offended the wrong person, I guess.” His hand froze mid-air. He didn’t push it. I cut straight to the point. “Michael, I need thirty grand.” He had just started pulling off his jacket. Hearing the number, his brow furrowed. “What do you need that kind of money for?” Thirty grand. That wouldn’t even cover the cost of one of his designer watches. “I want to live. I want to pay for the treatments.” He walked over and set a crushed piece of cake on the table. He bought it on the way home. It looked exactly like how I felt. He reached for my hand, his voice dipping into that soft, persuasive tone. “Stella, we talked about this. The doctors said it’s pointless.” “It’s a bottomless pit. Thirty grand won’t even make a dent. Let me use that money to buy you nice things, take you places. Let’s just enjoy the time we have left.” I pulled my hand back. “But I want to survive, Michael.” Seeing I wasn’t backing down, a flash of genuine anger crossed his face. He stood up. “What is your problem, Stella? Haven’t we burned enough cash on this phantom illness of yours? Are you trying to bleed me dry?” “I bet you’re not even sick. If you were really dying, you wouldn’t be sitting here perfectly fine without so much as a cough! You just want my money!” He kicked the table violently and stormed out of the apartment without looking back. He didn’t notice the table crashing into my leg, leaving an ugly, purple bruise on my shin. I never coughed in front of him because I was terrified of worrying him. I was terrified he would drop his shifts to take care of me. Once, when I was bedridden with a bad flu, he was out of state for work. He finished his shift and rode a Greyhound bus for sixteen hours straight just to put a cold towel on my forehead. I never imagined that my desperate attempt to protect him would become the exact reason he doubted my cancer. I set the table upright and rubbed my aching leg. The cake had splattered across the floor. I knelt down and scooped up a bit of frosting that hadn’t touched the dirt, letting it dissolve on my tongue. It was so sweet. So sweet it brought tears to my eyes. It was a shame I’d never get to taste it again. After cleaning up the mess, I wandered out of the basement and into the city. I ended up standing outside a high-end bridal boutique, pressing my hands against the freezing glass. Michael promised me a wedding once. I had lost three pregnancies for him, and I still never got to wear a white dress. Footsteps clicked against the pavement. I turned around and froze. Michael and Tiffany were walking right toward me. She spotted me first. “Babe, look. It’s that barista who mouthed off to me today.” Michael didn’t even look at me. “Don’t worry about it, Tiff. I already had her fired.” “It’s weird though. My gold-digging wife actually asked me for…” He finally looked up and saw me standing by the window. All the color drained from his face. I kept my composure and took a step forward. “I heard everything at the cafe today.” “You’re actually rich. Aren’t you?” I stared straight into his eyes. He shifted his gaze, refusing to meet mine. Tiffany gasped, covering her mouth in mock horror. “Oh my god, you’re the wife? Sorry I interrupted your little chat earlier.” “Since you obviously recognized his voice, why didn’t you stick around and listen to the rest? You might have heard something really juicy.” Michael’s panic faded, replaced by a cold, arrogant calm. “Since the secret’s out, there’s no point pretending.” “I faked being poor because girls in my tax bracket don’t know how to love. I wanted to see if I could find something real.” His upper lip curled in disgust. “I thought you were different. Turns out you’re worse than the rest of them. I’m literally living in a basement, and you’re still trying to scam me.” I gave him a hollow smile, a single tear slipping down my cheek. If I was really a gold digger, I wouldn’t have starved with him for nine years. “You’re right. I’m a gold digger. So since you’re loaded, wire me thirty grand.” I had to get that money. My body was rotting from the inside out, but Nana still had a chance. She had a tumor and was waiting for surgery. She was the only family I had left. Tiffany nudged Michael with her elbow, a nasty smirk on her face. “See? I told you. The broke ones are the greediest.” Michael looked at me like I was something he scraped off his shoe. “You want the money? Fine.” He didn’t finish the sentence. He just crooked a finger, motioning for me to follow them inside. I couldn’t hear what he was whispering to Tiffany. But I knew if I walked through those doors, I could save Nana. They led me right into the center of the bridal shop. It was packed with customers. Tiffany sat in a velvet chair and pointed her phone camera right at my face. I instinctively threw my hands up to cover my eyes. I was terrified of cameras. Back in high school, the rich kids bullied me because I wore hand-me-downs. They dragged me into the locker room, tore my clothes off, and dumped freezing water on me while recording the whole thing. The video went viral around the school. They branded me as trash. I told Michael all of this in the dark of our basement. He had pulled me into his chest and held me so tight. He told me I was safe now and promised he would never force me to take a photo if I didn’t want to. Now, he stood perfectly still, watching Tiffany shove a lens in my face without saying a word. Tiffany giggled. “Get on your knees. Tell the camera you’re a homewrecker who tried to steal my fiancé. Bow your head to the floor three times and apologize. You do that, and Michael will wire you the cash. Deal?” My throat felt like it was packed with glass. I looked at Michael, begging him silently. He looked away. “Do what she says.” I stared at the glowing red recording light, feeling the eyes of a dozen strangers burning into my back. I clamped my jaw shut and dropped to my knees. The entire store went dead silent. I choked out the humiliating script she demanded, but my body physically wouldn’t let me bow my head. Tiffany scoffed. “Let me help you out.” She grabbed the back of my hair and slammed my forehead into the marble floor. Three times. Blood dripped into my eyes. Just as I managed to stand up, my phone started ringing. It was the hospital. My heart stopped. “What? What happened to her?” I bolted out of the store. They trailed right behind me, but I didn’t care. The doctor said Nana was refusing the surgery unless I was there. With blood streaking down my face, I burst into her hospital room, tears streaming down my cheeks. Nana weakly lifted a hand, her trembling fingers brushing my hair. “My sweet girl… what happened to your forehead?” Before I could invent a lie, Tiffany strolled into the room. “Oh, she got that bowing to me, ma’am.” “Did you know your precious granddaughter is a scam artist? She just begged for thirty grand, admitted on camera that she tried to ruin my relationship, and kissed the floor at my feet!” She shoved the phone directly into Nana’s face, playing the video. My vision went red. I shoved her backward with everything I had. “Turn it off! Shut up! It’s all a lie! Nana, please…” Before I could finish, the heart monitor flatlined, letting out a shrill, continuous scream. Doctors flooded the room. They started chest compressions. I stood in the corner, praying to a God I didn’t believe in. Minutes dragged like hours. The green line on the screen never spiked again. My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the linoleum, slowly turning my head to look at Tiffany. “This is your fault. You killed her.” I lunged at her, fingers curled into claws. Michael stepped in front of her, shoving me back with brutal force. My hip slammed into the metal corner of the hospital bed. I hit the floor, vomiting a massive pool of dark blood. Michael looked down at me in absolute disgust. “Are you seriously still trying to pull this sick stunt?” But a searing, tearing agony ripped through my abdomen. Hot blood soaked through my jeans, pooling on the white floor. Something was leaving me. Something small. I started laughing. I laughed until tears washed the blood off my cheeks. I looked up at him, my voice lighter than a feather. “Michael. We are entirely done.” Right before the darkness swallowed me, I heard a sound I had never heard before. Michael screaming my name, his voice tearing at the seams. “Stella!!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464469”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Vincent was the industry’s hottest visionary director, his cinematic genius matched only by his notoriously venomous tongue. When news broke of his new film, fanbases swarmed his comments, pitching their idols for the lead. Amid thousands, he replied only to one of my fans: [Plastic, overacting, shallow. Keep her off my set. Do not desecrate my art.] Instantly, I was thrust into a media bloodbath. Gripping my phone, my voice trembled as I pressed it to my ear. “Why would you do that?” Vincent frowned, his gaze sweeping over me in a slow, clinical evaluation. “You make a living playing eye candy. Did your delusional fans’ compliments actually go to your head? Look at the casting call. Which part of you fits my leading lady? Viv, don’t force yourself into circles you don’t belong in.” Seeing my silence, his tone softened a fraction. “Enough. We’ll talk next time there’s an opportunity. You know the rules. Don’t contact me while I’m shooting.” Secretly married for five years, the only thing he ever left me was “next time.” He gave me that empty promise knowing full well I’d cleared my schedule and turned down every job offer for his film. My phone vibrated with a news alert. The hottest rising starlet clung to his arm, radiant at his film’s launch ceremony. Staring at the screen, at the faint, satisfied smile on Vincent’s face, I opened a different chat and typed. “That script you mentioned. Send it to me again. I want to read it.” 1 The livestream of the launch ceremony was still rolling. A reporter seized a brief lull in the crowd to shove a microphone forward. “Rumor has it that Director Vincent is incredibly demanding on set. Gemma, are you nervous about working with him?” Gemma tilted her head, glancing up at Vincent before flashing a coy, ambiguous smile. “Demanding? I think he’s perfectly fine. Maybe the people who claim he’s hard to work with just fundamentally don’t fit his vision.” The underlying dig was so blatantly obvious that even the drama-hungry entertainment reporters froze for a second. Vincent stood right beside her, entirely silent. He didn’t defend me. Gemma turned back to the cameras, her posture brimming with confidence. “Vincent actually sent me this script six months ago. Our creative wavelengths are perfectly aligned. I know we’re going to deliver an absolute masterpiece. See you all at the box office.” I gripped my phone, completely stunned. Six months ago, I had just returned home from a grueling three-day commercial shoot. The living room floor was buried under crumpled drafts and storyboards. Vincent had looked up from the chaos, his eyes burning with absolute, unfiltered ambition. “Just watch, Viv. This film is going to sweep the Silver Reel Awards.” Back in college, he had looked at me with that exact same burning intensity. He had held my hands, making a solemn vow. “Viv, before your thirtieth birthday, I promise I will direct the film that puts a Silver Reel trophy right in your hands.” I had been so overwhelmed with joy, foolishly believing he was honoring his old promise. That was why I rejected every single contract for the second half of the year. It took until today for me to finally understand. From the very beginning, I was never his choice. My manager, Valerie, was furiously typing on her tablet, trying to do damage control on the negative press. She snatched my phone out of my hands and let out a merciless scoff. “Vivian, is that man really your husband?” A bitter, self-deprecating laugh escaped my throat. When Vincent was still an unknown indie director, he refused to make our relationship public. He claimed he wanted to build his empire first so he could stand beside me proudly. Now he was at the absolute top of the world. Yet every time I brought up going public, he would just frown and say we’d do it “next time.” What was his excuse now? “You are turning thirty. You’re stuck in this awkward middle ground, constantly mocked by the internet as a brainless porcelain doll. Are you planning to spend the rest of your life bouncing around stupid reality shows?” Valerie glared at me, exasperated by my passive loyalty. The sudden ringing of my phone cut her lecture short. Through the screen, Vincent looked at me with a cold, businesslike expression. “Director Campbell is shooting a new blockbuster. I pulled some strings and got you a cameo. The script is in your inbox.” I opened the file and skimmed the first two pages. It was another lifeless, decorative role. A pretty object to stand in the background of a men’s club. I took a deep breath, trying to steady the tremor in my chest. “Vincent, I don’t want to take this. I…” His expression instantly darkened. “Then what exactly do you want? The lead? Vivian, take a good look at your image. Can you stop living in this delusional fantasy?” The words died in my throat. With my sharp, glamorous features and hourglass figure, the media had crowned me the “Hollywood Rose.” But because of that exact image, every single script that came my way was exclusively for a superficial seductress or a tragic beauty. Once, I had swallowed my pride and personally begged a casting director for a gritty dramatic role. He had laughed right in my face. “Vivian? You’ve got to be kidding. That face of hers is just an exquisite porcelain centerpiece. You don’t put a centerpiece in the mud.” I let out a soft, mocking chuckle. “Vincent, in your eyes, am I doomed to be a prop forever? I’m almost thirty. If I don’t land a real role soon, my career is over. Have you forgotten? I am an actress. My dream…” He cut me off without a shred of mercy. “Then stop acting. There is a very clear line between having a dream and being delusional.” Gemma’s sweet voice drifted from the background of his video feed. “Vincent, they’re ready for us on the red carpet.” He reached for the camera, leaving me with one final order. “I got you the role. Take it or leave it, it’s your choice. Do not bother me again.” The screen went black. Valerie took the phone, glancing at the script file. She hesitated. “Campbell’s movies always crush the box office. Maybe just go show your face? It’s better than nothing.” When I didn’t respond, she threw her hands up in frustration. “Well, what else are you going to do? You turned down a whole season of work for him. Are you really just going to sit in this apartment and rot?” I glanced at the framed wedding photo sitting on the coffee table. I took a deep, shuddering breath, exhaling the last remnants of my naive devotion. I pulled up the indie script I had requested earlier. “No. I’m taking this one.” 2 Valerie sat across from me in a quiet corner of an upscale cafe. For the sixth time, she opened her mouth and closed it again. “A 1940s WWII espionage thriller. A heavy, complex female lead. Vivian, are you sure this isn’t some kind of elaborate scam?” Just as she spoke, a young woman timidly poked her head around the partition. Defying every industry stereotype, the director was a girl. Nora placed the bound script gently on the table and offered a shy, apologetic smile. “My film professors used to look at my storyboards and sigh. They told me it was a shame I wasn’t born a man. They said the director’s chair is too brutal for a girl. I just refused to buy into that garbage. Anything they can do, I can do. And I can do it better.” I looked down at the script, a heavy silence washing over me. It wasn’t just the director’s chair. The entire entertainment industry operated on that exact logic. Cinema was a man’s kingdom. Female characters were just the beautiful lace trimming the edges of the narrative. They were never allowed to be the spine. Even Vincent had sneered at the idea more than once. He claimed true art had predefined boundaries, and certain roles were naturally gendered. Back then, I had wanted to open my mouth and tell him he was wrong. Humans are the creators of art. It shouldn’t be suffocated by archaic cages. Art becomes whatever you have the courage to mold it into. Nora looked up at me, her eyes shining with careful reverence. “You are my absolute idol, Vivian. In my mind, you are the one and only Scarlett.” Valerie immediately slipped into her PR persona. “Well, our Vivian definitely has a very diverse portfolio! Which of her pieces is your favorite, Director Nora?” The second the words left Valerie’s mouth, she winced. I was famous for playing arm candy. But Nora sat up perfectly straight, her expression completely serious. “Amber.” My breath hitched. I was seventeen when I got accepted into the acting conservatory. Vincent was already the golden boy of the directing department. He had approached me in the courtyard, his eyes bright. “Vivian, I want you to be the soul of my graduation thesis film.” Amber was the place where Vincent’s dreams began. It was my first ever leading role. It was the undeniable proof that we were once madly in love. I thought that film was the dawn of our legendary partnership. I didn’t know it was the first and the absolute last time he would ever look through a lens and truly see me. During my sophomore year, a vintage photoshoot of me went viral, earning me millions of superficial fans overnight. Meanwhile, Vincent graduated and lost the protective halo of the university. He slammed face-first into the brutal reality of the industry. Making movies was like burning cash in a furnace. So I took the jobs. I played the brainless seductress. I played the tragic mistress. I went on trashy variety shows and let hosts humiliate me for laughs. I endured endless think pieces mocking me as a talentless hack who only knew how to look pretty on a red carpet. I did it to buy him time. To build him a financial fortress so he could protect his artistic integrity. Eventually, his breakout film shattered box office records. And his reward to me was a merciless sneer. “Viv, surely you don’t actually believe you still qualify as an actress?” I pulled myself out of the memory, offering Nora a bitter, grounded smile. “I love this story. It’s brilliant. But I have to warn you, my public reputation is completely toxic right now. And it has been years since I anchored a serious dramatic role. Are you absolutely certain you want to gamble your debut on me?” Nora shook her head, her gaze completely unwavering. “Anyone who has the depth to play Amber can do absolutely anything.” When the studio officially announced my casting, the internet exploded. The backlash from my own fanbase nearly drowned my social media accounts. [Are you out of your mind? We’ve been fighting Gemma’s fanbase in the trenches for months, and while she gets cast in Vincent’s new masterpiece, you sign on to this no-name garbage?] [Girl, you are almost thirty! Stop throwing tantrums! Taking a role from a rookie director is just handing your rivals free ammunition to humiliate you!] Late that night, my phone rang. It was Vincent. “Vivian, what the hell is going through your head? Call them and quit right now. I will wire you the money to cover the breach of contract fee. I’ll make a call to Campbell, and you’ll be on his set by Monday.” I took a slow, deep breath. “No. I am making this movie.” A harsh, condescending laugh echoed through the receiver. “I practically hand-delivered you an opportunity, and you throw it in the trash. When this blows up in your face, do not come crying to me about how unfair the industry is.” A few days later, during a press junket for his film, a reporter deliberately brought up my new project. Vincent stared dead into the camera, his eyes arctic. “Some people are so desperate for the spotlight they’ll stoop to anything. I have absolutely zero interest in working with an actor who lacks basic artistic dignity.” The tabloids had a field day. [VINCENT SHREDS HOLLYWOOD ROSE: THE RIVALRY IS OVER.] [GEMMA EYES THE SILVER REEL WHILE VIVIAN BECOMES A PUNCHLINE.] That evening, Gemma accidentally “liked” a post calling me washed up. She unliked it a minute later, blaming a slip of the finger. Once again, I was the internet’s favorite punching bag. But I found that I didn’t care at all. I sat in my quiet apartment, running a highlighter over my dialogue. Valerie walked into the room, looking incredibly uneasy. “Viv… our filming location got finalized. We’re shooting in the exact same backlot as Vincent’s crew. Right next door.” 3 The production team booked a block of rooms at the local hotel. The second Valerie handed me my keycard, her face contorted in annoyance. “It’s bad enough we’re sharing a backlot, but we’re in the exact same hotel?” I just smiled tiredly, dragging my heavy suitcase toward the elevator doors just as they were about to slide shut. “Thanks for holding—” The words died on my tongue. Standing inside the velvet-lined elevator were Vincent and Gemma. Vincent pulled his finger off the open button, his eyes staring straight ahead. He didn’t offer me a single glance. Gemma, however, let a smug, overly sweet smile bloom across her face. “Vivian, what a crazy coincidence. I can’t wait to learn a few things from a veteran like you.” The second the elevator dinged at their floor, Vincent strode out without looking back. Gemma trailed right behind him. Right as the steel doors closed, I caught a snippet of their conversation. Gemma whispered something, and Vincent let out a low, genuine laugh. At ten-thirty that night, I was sitting on my bed in pajamas, immersed in my script, when a sharp knock startled me. Vincent let himself in without an invitation. He dropped onto the velvet armchair, his eyes doing a critical sweep of the standard room. “Accommodations aren’t completely terrible, I suppose.” I didn’t say a word. The silence stretched until the air grew thick with tension. He let out an irritated sigh. “Drop the movie, Vivian.” “You’re shooting a period piece aiming for the fall blockbuster window. Do you honestly believe some fresh-out-of-college girl can stand toe-to-toe with my premiere?” My fingernails dug into my palms. Vincent rubbed his temples, softening his voice to a patronizing murmur. “Viv, your aesthetic just fundamentally clashes with serious cinema. What is so wrong with Campbell’s set? If you’re throwing a fit over screen time, I can talk to him and add a few scenes…” He reached out, attempting to pull me into his chest the way he always did when he wanted to pacify me. I dodged his hand. “You changed your cologne.” Vincent was a brilliant, obsessive visionary, which meant he was utterly helpless at basic survival. For five years, I had curated every single aspect of his life. His clothes, his meals, his schedule. I noticed the foreign scent the second he crossed the threshold. Vincent frowned, bringing his collar to his nose. “It’s the brand Gemma endorses. I’m just trying it out. Is that a crime?” I took another step back, completely out of his reach. A hollow, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. “No crime. I’m not quitting the movie. It’s getting late, Director. You should head back to your own room before someone gets the wrong idea.” “After all, you’re the king of the box office now. I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I’m trying to leech off your clout.” His face darkened like a thundercloud. “You are doing this again. Am I wrong? Vivian, do you honestly even remember how to act? Did you really convince yourself that staring blankly into a camera in pretty dresses counts as a performance? Look at Gemma. Look at the raw talent she brings at your exact age, and then look at…” I swallowed the sharp, burning lump in my throat and cut him off. “I had opportunities. Do you really not know why I ended up playing those roles?” Vincent’s jaw clenched. His face was livid as he turned on his heel and slammed the hotel door behind him. I wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye and picked my script up off the floor. Once principal photography began, the two sets were separated by nothing more than a narrow, brick alleyway. Walking out of the makeup trailer, I could easily spot Vincent and Gemma sitting shoulder-to-shoulder behind the main monitor. He leaned in close, whispering instructions into her ear. She giggled, playfully shoving his shoulder. Valerie rolled her eyes so hard I thought she’d hurt herself. “If he had a shred of decency, he’d be struck by lightning.” I didn’t spare them a second glance. I turned my back and walked straight to my mark. For the next few weeks, I practically bled into my character. On the other side of the alley, Vincent and Gemma were generating endless headlines. The tabloids were flooded with suspiciously high-quality candid shots. Director Vincent Personally Coaches Gemma, Unstoppable Chemistry on Set. I didn’t click on a single article. On the rare occasions we crossed paths in the hotel lobby, I offered a polite, mechanical nod and kept walking. I heard a lighting tech whisper one afternoon. “Vivian must really hate him after that interview. It was pretty brutal to trash her on national TV.” I just smiled to myself. No one in this entire crew had the slightest clue that the man ignoring me was my husband of five years. Everything was quiet until Valerie kicked my hotel door open one night, her face completely drained of color. “We have a massive problem.” She shoved her tablet into my hands. The number one trending hashtag glared back in bold red letters. [BREAKING: DIRECTOR VINCENT AND GEMMA SPOTTED ENTERING HOTEL ROOM TOGETHER. MIDNIGHT ROMANCE CONFIRMED?]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464468”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

William fell in love with my roommate at first sight. He took a photo of her and sent it to the university’s notorious trust-fund group chat. Anyone know this girl? Ten grand for her Instagram handle. A reply came almost immediately. I do. But the guy made a typo and sent my handle instead. And so, William and I ended up in an online relationship for the entire winter break. It was only when the spring semester started and he saw me in person that he realized the mistake. After a long, agonizing silence, he offered a compromise. “Let’s break up, and you help me get Seraphina. Once it’s done, I’ll give you a blank check. Write whatever number you want, deal?” 01 William’s tone was incredibly sincere. Though we went to the same college, this was the first time he had ever looked at me in person. But I had secretly stared at him hundreds of times before. In my memories, he was always detached, carrying an air of effortless indifference as if nothing in the world could ever truly catch his eye. Yet now, for Seraphina, he was being shockingly generous. He had laid down a blank check. “Don’t worry,” he said. “The second I get back, I’m going to have a little talk with Nate.” I knew who Nate was. One of the most notorious trust-fund playboys on campus. He was the one who had given William my contact info by mistake. I clenched my fists, forcing my racing heart to quiet down. “It’s fine.” “I’ll do it.” There was nothing to hesitate about. I loved William, yes. But I was also desperately, agonizingly broke. Still, I never imagined that my very first romance would end in such a humiliating, pathetic way. A sudden gust of icy wind swept over us, and I instinctively pulled my knitted scarf tighter around my neck. William glanced down at me, his eyes dark as midnight. He let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry.” Suddenly, I remembered the day he added me. It had been a snowy day just like this one. I had just stepped off the train back home, standing in the freezing cold, reading his request over and over again. We had gone to the same high school. Long ago, I had memorized his profile picture and username. And now, we were already juniors in college. Six whole years of quiet, invisible yearning. My hands had been trembling when I finally accepted his request. His first message came through almost instantly: Hey, I’m William. I saw you this afternoon, and I really wanted to get to know you. That single moment was the happiest of my entire life. Only now did I realize that from beginning to end, it had been nothing but a beautiful, cruel illusion. 02 After getting Seraphina’s permission, I handed her contact info over to William. She wasn’t strikingly beautiful, but she was bright, bubbly, and always laughing. Ever since the semester started, she had no shortage of admirers. But obviously, none of them could compare to William. Clutching her phone, she chatted with him while looking at me in confusion. “How do you even know William?” I remained quiet for a moment. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. “We just happened to have each other’s contacts. We’ve never actually talked.” Seraphina relaxed, letting out a breath. “I’m so nervous. I don’t even know what to say to him. Do you really think he likes me?” I nodded. “Yeah.” With that, I grabbed my textbooks and left the dorm. But when I reached the library lobby, my phone buzzed with a text from William. I want to ask her out for dinner tomorrow. Do you know if she has any allergies, or what she likes to eat? I took a deep breath. I unlocked my screen and scrolled upward. Not long ago, he used to call me “sweetheart.” During those two months, we talked from morning till night. He knew every little detail about me. Before we met, knowing I had a sweet tooth, he had even spent hours learning how to bake those fancy French pastries I loved. But Seraphina’s tastes were the exact opposite of mine. She hates sweets. She loves spicy food. A long silence stretched before his reply came. Got it. Looking at that single word, I locked my screen. Sometimes, life feels incredibly fickle. Just a few days ago, he was whispering sweet nothings to lull me to sleep, saying things that made my heart race. I’m no gentleman, Benjamin. You’ll find out soon enough when we finally meet. But when we finally met, all he had for me was a quiet apology. 03 William didn’t text me often anymore. He only asked occasionally about Seraphina’s preferences. I played my part dutifully. As long as I knew the answer, I told him the absolute truth. One evening, I returned to the dorm to find Seraphina lying in bed, her face pale and flushed. I pressed my hand to her forehead. She was burning up. Right then, my phone buzzed with a message from William. Is Seraphina in the dorm? I’ve been calling her, but she isn’t picking up. I quickly texted back, telling him she had a high fever. William replied almost instantly. Help her downstairs. I’m driving over right now. I agreed. But I was small, and she was heavy. Dragging her down the stairs took every ounce of my strength. By the time we reached the lobby and I saw William, my grip slipped. My wrist slammed hard against the heavy door frame. Seraphina stumbled, nearly crashing to the floor. Seeing this, William rushed over, his face pale with worry. He frowned, his voice cold and sharp. “Benjamin.” “You almost dropped her.” Numbing pain shot through my wrist, but I forced myself to whisper, “I didn’t mean to.” William didn’t even look at me. He scooped Seraphina into his arms and carried her to his car. I stood there in the cold, watching his taillights fade into the night. I stood in the exact same spot for a long, long time. So this was what it felt like to watch the boy you loved cherish someone else with everything he had. 04 For a while after that, William didn’t contact me at all. Once Seraphina returned from the clinic, she spent every evening on FaceTime with him. Our other two roommates would occasionally pop into the frame or chat with him in the background. Only me. I always kept my distance, never making a sound. Yet he used to call me like that too. Back then, I truly believed we were going to write a beautiful story together. One night, Seraphina was in the shower, leaving her phone on her desk. It rang repeatedly. She called out from the bathroom, “Benjamin, can you grab that for me?” I looked at the screen. William’s name flashed across it. He had called several times already, likely worried that she was sick again. After a brief hesitation, I swiped to answer. William’s voice came through the receiver, incredibly gentle. “Seraphina?” A bitter ache swelled in my chest. I bit my lip and said, “She’s in the shower.” The line went quiet. Then, his voice shifted, absolute and certain. “It’s you.” There was no way he wouldn’t recognize my voice. “Yeah,” I murmured. Silence stretched between us. I had delivered the message. I was about to hang up when he suddenly spoke again. “I didn’t mean to snap at you the other day.” I held the phone, the plastic cold against my ear. I didn’t know what to say. After what felt like an eternity, I managed to squeeze out two words. “It’s fine.” He probably didn’t expect such a flat response after all that waiting. He let out a soft, dry laugh. “Okay.” That night, a new message from William appeared on my phone. It felt almost like an olive branch. Thanks for the help the other day. William’s devotion to Seraphina was flawless. He showered her with gifts. Flowers, designer bags, jewelry. So many that her closet could barely hold them all. Yet Seraphina still seemed frustrated. “He’s incredibly sweet to me,” she complained to our roommates. “But it’s been over a month, and he still hasn’t made us official. Am I supposed to make the first move?” Our other roommates asked curiously, “Have you guys kissed or hugged yet?” Seraphina shook her head. “No.” She paused, looking troubled. “Honestly, we haven’t even held hands.” I sat in my corner, listening quietly, saying nothing. In the silence, one of the roommates spoke up. “I heard William’s never been in a relationship before. He’s rich, gorgeous, and he’s never pursued anyone like this. You need to lock him down, girl. Make it official.” But I remembered. During the winter break, we had only been talking for two weeks before he confessed his feelings to me. I figured he had probably learned his lesson after getting burned by his mistake with me, so he wanted to take things slow this time. Still, they would be together soon. I didn’t expect to run into him the very next evening. 05 William and a few guys were playing basketball on the campus courts. I was just passing by when a stray ball slammed hard into my forehead. The guy who threw it came running over, breathless. Seeing the bruising swelling on my forehead, he grabbed my arm. “Damn, I am so sorry. Let me take you to the clinic.” I looked up. The afternoon sun was blinding. As the guy got a clear look at my face, he froze. Right then, William walked up from behind him. His face was incredibly dark as he called out, “Nate.” It clicked. The guy who had hit me was Nate. The one who had given William my contact info by mistake. William’s gaze fell on Nate’s hand gripping my arm. His expression was cold, devoid of any warmth. “You’re just taking her to the clinic. Is it really necessary to grab her like that?” Nate let go of me instantly. In the end, both of them walked me to the campus clinic. Fortunately, it was nothing serious. The entire time, Nate kept asking me questions. Does it hurt? Do you want some water? William simply stood aside, silent and brooding. When we were about to leave, Nate pulled out his phone, acting casual. “Can I get your Instagram? Just in case you feel dizzy later and need anything.” I blinked, caught off guard. Before I could answer, William let out a cold, mocking laugh. “She’s Benjamin. The girl you accidentally set me up with over the break. You already have her contact info.” Nate swore under his breath. “Holy crap, that was you? I completely forgot when I added you.” “You and Seraphina both have the last name Somers, I got you two mixed up. I thought your name was Seraphina Somers.” I bit my lip. “A few weeks ago, I helped coordinate that campus event. You were supposed to be featured, so I reached out to you online.” The event had been canceled, so we never actually met in person. Nate’s face lit up with a grin. “Ah, right! I remember now.” “Well, I guess we were fated to meet after all.” 06 That night, not long after I got back to the dorm, I received a text from Nate. Are you feeling any better? I typed back, Yeah. The screen immediately showed “typing…” It stayed like that for four or five minutes. Finally, his message came through. William almost beat the crap out of me for that mistake. I wanted to apologize to you earlier, but he wouldn’t let me. Said it was in the past and told me to keep my mouth shut so I wouldn’t upset you. But now that we’ve finally met, I figured I really owed you a proper apology. I thought about it for a moment, then replied. Don’t worry about it. After sending it, I went to take a shower. When I came back out, there was a box of expensive pastries sitting on our shared table. The packaging looked incredibly high-end. Seraphina, who was applying a face mask, looked up. “William bought them, but I don’t really do sweets. Feel free to have some, they smell amazing.” I glanced over. The other two roommates already had portions sitting on their desks. Maybe it was because of the hot shower, but my throat felt incredibly dry, my voice sounding raspy. “I’m on a diet. No thanks.” 07 Things progressed smoothly between Seraphina and William. But it wasn’t long before she found out about the mix-up. It started at a party they went to. Someone got drunk and let it slip. “Hey, we heard you and that fake girl share a dorm. What’s she like? No way she’s as pretty as you, right?” “But who knows, Nate’s been talking about her nonstop lately…” Seraphina came back to the dorm absolutely fuming. In front of everyone, she slapped me hard across the face. She warned me to stay far away from William. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my phone buzzed with a text from William. Seraphina found out. She has a temper. Just let her have her way this once, okay? Consider it a favor to me. During winter break, while we were on a voice call, my grandmother had suddenly fallen and hit her head. In my absolute panic, William had stepped in. He immediately contacted the hospital and arranged for a top specialist. He had been so apologetic: I’m out of town and can’t get back. I wish I could be there with you. He didn’t know that just having his help was enough to make me endlessly grateful. And now, he wanted me to return that favor. I stared at the screen, then quietly typed back. Okay. Then I turned to Seraphina and apologized. After the lights went out, the other two roommates were still whispering comforts to Seraphina. “Some people look so innocent, but they’re doing dirty things behind your back.” “Seriously. How can anyone try to steal someone else’s guy?” Seraphina let out a small, self-satisfied laugh. “Well, he’s not my boyfriend just yet.” I lay in bed, my cheek burning painfully. It would definitely be swollen tomorrow. Yet none of that hurt half as much as William’s text.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464467”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On our third anniversary, my amnesiac husband suddenly looked at me with red eyes, claiming he’d crossed over from age eighteen. “I’m sorry, babe. How could that bastard betray you? I’m eighteen now. I only love you.” He sobbed, repenting as he blocked his mistress on WhatsApp. I stared, stunned by his smooth performance. For the past year, this version of him had trampled my heart for that woman. Now, he spent every day clumsily trying to please me like a boy in first love. I thought a miracle had come. Until I overheard him on the phone, his tone careless and cruel. “Aly, don’t be mad. Wasn’t the bet to see if she could tell I was faking? Once she’s moved and forgives me, I’ll tell her the truth. I promise I’ll shred her heart for you, okay?” I stopped walking, my heart chilling. There had never been a lover crossing time. He was still twenty-five-year-old Adrian Caldwell. But he didn’t know. I had truly crossed over from eighteen. And the affection that version of me held for him was nowhere near enough to let him humiliate me like this. I stood frozen, my mind in chaos. My memories still stopped before I got together with Adrian. At that time, he had already chased me for an entire year. He delivered breakfast for a hundred days. He stood under my dorm building on countless rainy nights. Only then had I slowly opened my heart. The next moment, I woke up seven years in the future. On the other end of the phone, Aly Shaw was still laughing. “Adrian, you’re so bad.” Adrian’s voice was lazy, full of unconcealed malice. “If I don’t crush her pride completely, how will she learn? All right, I’ll go coax her some more. Sleep early.” He hung up and turned to open the balcony door. When he saw me standing outside, the tenderness on his face instantly switched to panic. With red eyes, he strode over and pulled me hard into his arms. “Babe, I was wrong. I really know I was wrong.” “My head is full of memories from when we were eighteen. I only remember how much I loved you. How could I hurt you for another woman?” If this had been twenty minutes ago, twenty-five-year-old Skye Harper might have cried her heart out and forgiven all the awful things he had done over the past year. But I was eighteen. Three days ago, I had only barely agreed to Adrian’s pursuit. My mind flashed through what he had done this past year. When Skye was sick, he let Aly pour all her medicine into the toilet, saying Skye was faking illness to compete for attention. He threw the cheap silver ring I bought him into the trash, then spent millions buying Aly a three-pound set of gold jewelry. He said, “Aly saved my life. Of course I should treat her like a princess.” On Skye’s birthday, he brought Aly into our marital bed. In that daze, I seemed to feel the pain Skye had felt then. I trembled with anger and shoved him away. Adrian froze for a second, then immediately came close again, tears falling in large drops. “Babe, hit me, curse me, anything. Just don’t ignore me. From now on, I’ll only revolve around you, okay?” I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. The sound was crisp. Adrian’s face turned from the force, and five red marks appeared instantly on his pale skin. A flash of fury passed through his eyes. Then he forced it down, turned back, and looked at me with wounded devotion. “Babe, does your hand hurt? If you’re not satisfied, hit this side too.” He grabbed my hand and brought it toward his face. I pulled my hand back and went to the bathroom to wash it. “Adrian Caldwell, stop acting. It’s disgusting.” His body stiffened. His eyes flickered. “Babe, what am I acting about? I really only remember being eighteen…” Before I could speak, the doorbell suddenly rang. Adrian’s expression shifted. He strode over and opened the door. Aly stood outside holding a thermal container, eyes red, looking fragile and pitiful. “Adrian, I made your favorite fish soup.” Adrian suddenly raised his voice and snapped, “What are you doing here? Get out! My wife is home. If you don’t care about shame, I do.” He knocked the container over. Soup splashed onto Aly’s calf. Aly screamed, tears falling rapidly. “It’s okay if you don’t want me anymore. I won’t give up on you…” She cried and ran into the elevator. Adrian slammed the door shut, then turned back with a humble expression, waiting for praise. “Babe, see? I didn’t care about her at all.” I stared at his right hand. When he had knocked over the container just now, his index and middle fingers had crossed discreetly. That was his secret signal with Aly. When twenty-four-year-old Skye discovered that signal, she had confronted him without hesitation, and in return, he threw her out of the car in pouring rain. But eighteen-year-old me only found the signal ridiculous. The moment the door closed, I saw pain flash across Adrian’s face. I ignored him, walked into the guest room, and locked the door. No matter how hard he pounded on it outside. 2 I lay on the bed as seven years of love and hate forced themselves through my mind like a cruel film reel. In the beginning, for those first two years, he had treated me so well it was almost reckless. That was how he made me fall completely. For the first three years after marriage, Adrian still loved me. Wherever we went, he held my hand, afraid I would suffer even the slightest grievance. Everyone in our circle knew that Adrian Caldwell’s bottom line was me. Until the fourth year of our marriage. A car accident destroyed everything. At the edge of life and death, we both tried desperately to protect each other. Adrian jerked the steering wheel, wanting to leave the chance of survival to me. I also unbuckled my seat belt without hesitation and threw myself over him, blocking the shattered windshield with my body. Blood covered my eyes. Before I fell into total darkness, I saw a woman in a white dress running toward the car through the window. That was Aly. Later, I was in the ICU, fighting for my life. Adrian woke up first. When he opened his eyes, the first person he saw was Aly, crying beside his bed. That accident took away his memory. He remembered everything except that he had a wife named Skye Harper. Aly selfishly hid my existence and never mentioned the fact that he was married. With her day-and-night companionship and intimate care, the amnesiac Adrian gradually fell in love with her. Until the day he was discharged. He was full of joy, wanting to be with Aly, only to learn from his assistant that he was already married. Twenty-five-year-old Skye loved Adrian to the bone. She had even almost lost half her life saving him in that crash. What she received in return was his coldness after losing his memory, his violence, and his endless favoritism toward another woman. I slowly fell asleep, my mind going blank. The next morning, I opened the door. Adrian was wearing an apron, carrying fried eggs out of the kitchen. “Babe, I made your favorite runny eggs.” Twenty-five-year-old Skye had forced herself to eat half-raw eggs for a year to match his taste. But eighteen-year-old me was allergic to raw egg. I pulled out a chair, sat down, and pushed the plate into the trash. “I don’t eat undercooked food.” Adrian’s smile nearly slipped. “Isn’t this your favorite?” “My taste changed.” I got up, grabbed my coat, and walked out. He caught my wrist in a hard grip, strong enough to leave a red mark. “Skye, I’ve already humbled myself this much. How long are you going to keep making trouble?” The forcefulness of a twenty-five-year-old man in power showed itself instantly. I looked at him coldly. “Aren’t you eighteen? The eighteen-year-old Adrian never dared raise his voice at me.” His breath hitched. He immediately released me and softened his tone. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m just too scared of losing you. Let me take you out to relax, okay? We can visit our high school.” Without waiting for my answer, he pulled me into the car. The car stopped at the gates of City First High. Adrian held my hand and walked inside, talking nonstop about “our” high school memories. “Do you remember when we secretly flew a kite on the field and got caught by the dean?” I cut him off. “That was you and your first love. I went to Third High.” Adrian froze. He did not remember the details of being eighteen at all. He was relying entirely on the fake memories Aly had fed him, acting deeply in love with me. He awkwardly changed the subject. “Babe, I’ll buy you milk tea. You used to love the taro boba across the street.” He ran over and came back with a matcha frappé with double pearls. That was Aly’s taste. He even casually accepted a tissue from a girl nearby and wiped the sweat from his forehead. That girl was Aly, waiting there on purpose. The two of them exchanged a knowing look. I took out my phone and called a lawyer. “Draft me a divorce agreement. As fast as possible.” Adrian returned and handed me the drink. I smashed it at his feet. Green liquid splashed over his expensive leather shoes. “Adrian Caldwell, we’re getting divorced.” He finally tore off his smile and gritted his teeth. “Skye Harper, you were willing to risk your life for me. Who are you trying to scare with divorce now?” I looked at him. “Done pretending?” 3 He froze instantly, just about to explain. The next second, Aly’s sweet voice sounded behind him. “Adrian, you lost the bet. She figured out you were faking.” “A bet is a bet. Except for that kind of thing, you have to follow all my plans today. Bring her to tonight’s party.” Aly’s voice was not loud, but I heard every word. Adrian glanced at me, the corner of his mouth curving. “Fine. I’ll listen to you.” I turned and walked away, refusing without hesitation. “I’m not going.” But he dragged me into the car, floored the gas, and brought me straight back to the villa. He pulled me into the walk-in closet and threw out a pink floral dress. “Put it on. You’re coming with me tonight.” It was Aly’s favorite style. It was also what Adrian now liked. Twenty-five-year-old Skye had bought a closet full of clothes like this to please him. I picked up the dress and tore it in half in front of him. “Get out.” Adrian’s eyes turned red. He pulled off his tie and locked me inside the closet. “You’ll wear it whether you want to or not. When you soften up, I’ll let you out.” The closed room had no windows. But the one with claustrophobia was the current Skye, not eighteen-year-old Skye. I sat on the floor and stared coldly at the sliver of light beneath the door. At eighteen, what I had most was backbone. Six hours later, the door opened. Adrian stood there coldly, holding a couture gown. He thought I would be like twenty-five-year-old Skye, crying and begging while clinging to his leg. But I stood, dusted off my pants, and walked past him straight to the bathroom. His gaze darkened. He forcibly pulled me back and shoved the gown into my arms. “Change. I’ll agree to one request from you.” The banquet hall was full of lights and wine. Adrian forced me to enter on his arm. Everyone in the circle knew how he had degraded his wife for Aly. Countless gazes landed on me, waiting to watch a show. Aly walked over with a wine glass. Her dress and mine were from the same collection, as if we were twins. “Adrian. Mrs. Caldwell,” she called sweetly. The rich kids around us began teasing. “Mr. Caldwell, even after losing your memory, your taste still leans toward our Aly, huh?” Adrian did not refute them. A cruel smile curved his lips. He turned to me. “Babe, everyone’s playing a game. Shooting. If you lose, you’ll toast Aly and apologize for making trouble this afternoon.” On the table lay a modified air gun and several apples. Adrian had deliberately set up this game to humiliate me and force me to lower my head to his mistress in front of everyone. I stepped forward and picked up the air gun, weighing it in my hand. “What if I win?” Adrian lifted an eyebrow. “Then do whatever you want.” He fired first. The apple ten meters away was struck at the edge and fell to the ground. Pleased, he handed the gun to me. I did not take it. I picked up the spare gun on the table, loaded it, aimed, and pulled the trigger. All in one motion. Bull’s-eye. The apple shattered. The entire room fell silent. At eighteen, I had been a professional shooter on the provincial team. For Adrian, the later me gave up my career and never touched a gun again. I turned, picked up an entire bottle of high-proof vodka, and walked to Aly. “Drink it.” Aly’s face went pale as she looked to Adrian for help. “Adrian…” Adrian’s face darkened. He strode over and knocked the bottle from my hand. “Skye Harper, enough!” He shielded Aly behind him. I looked at him. “A bet is a bet.” “She won’t drink, right?” 4 I stepped forward and slapped Aly across the face with all my strength. Aly screamed and fell to the floor, the corner of her mouth swelling instantly. “This slap replaces the drink. We’re even.” Adrian shoved me hard. I crashed into the long table behind me, pain shooting through my waist. He crouched down and pulled Aly into his arms, then turned and glared at me. “Take her away. Lock her in the basement!” he ordered the bodyguards. Two bodyguards stepped forward and twisted my arms. “You can reflect in there. Without my permission, no one is allowed to give her food or water.” The basement was cold and damp. Using the weak light from my phone, I found a metal stool in the corner. I lifted it and smashed it hard against the high ventilation window. Glass shattered. The wire mesh bent. My hands were cut by glass, blood flowing freely. I stepped on a cabinet and climbed out through the vent. The night wind was freezing. Without looking back, I walked into the dark. At dawn, I returned quietly to the villa with bandages wrapped around my hands. Adrian was not home. I pulled my suitcase out from under the bed and began packing. When I finished, I sat on the edge of the bed and took out my phone. There were hundreds of unread messages, all sent by twenty-five-year-old Skye to Adrian. Humble, pleading, despairing. Adrian, can you come home for dinner today? I made your favorite sweet and sour ribs. Adrian, my stomach hurts. Can you pick me up? Adrian, Aly posted that you two are in the Maldives. Didn’t you say you were on a business trip? I deleted them one by one. Piece by piece, I picked up the dignity she had lost. Passing through the living room, I threw the signed divorce agreement and my wedding ring onto the coffee table. There was also a thick diary on the table. It was where twenty-five-year-old Skye had recorded every detail of the past seven years. I opened to the last page and wrote one line in the wild cursive only eighteen-year-old me would use. Then I pulled my suitcase out and took a cab straight to the airport. At eleven that morning, Adrian pushed open the villa door. In his hand was a box of steamed buns from the south side of the city, something I had “once” loved. He had come to bestow his mercy. “Skye Harper, do you know what you did wrong?” Only silence answered him. He frowned and went to the basement. The lock was intact. But no one was inside. A strange panic rose in his chest. He rushed upstairs to the bedroom. The room was clean, without the slightest trace of a person living there. At once, he saw the divorce agreement and wedding ring on the coffee table. Adrian laughed coldly and took out his phone to call me. “Sorry, the number you dialed has been deactivated.” He froze. His gaze slowly moved to the diary on the coffee table. He opened to the last page. The handwriting was arrogant and bold, nothing like twenty-five-year-old Skye’s restrained, delicate writing. June 2, 2026. I truly crossed over from eighteen. Twenty-five-year-old Adrian Caldwell is complete trash. Thankfully, eighteen-year-old me doesn’t love you at all. Impossible. This had to be Skye’s trick to force him to admit his mistakes. He flipped through the diary and found entries from when I was eighteen. The handwriting was exactly the same. Eighteen. She really was from eighteen. The diary dropped heavily to the floor. Adrian’s mind seemed to be struck by a hammer. Everything went blank. Then the memories he had forgotten suddenly exploded from the depths of his mind.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464466”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On our third wedding anniversary, my husband missed our three-year-old son’s retinal surgery because he was accompanying the woman he never got over to a minor follow-up appointment. That day, while packing Theo’s schoolbag, I pressed the button on his recording teddy bear and heard his tiny whisper. “Teddy, I don’t have a daddy anymore. Can you be my daddy?” At a community follow-up visit, the doctor casually asked where the child’s father was. Theo touched the gauze over his eye and said softly, “Doctor, my daddy turned into an angel and flew far away. That place is called Aunt Tessa’s house.” At kindergarten, during a speech event themed “My Family,” Theo stood onstage holding a photo of only the two of us. “My teacher said only dead people can’t take family photos. So my daddy became a star in the sky.” The parents below were all moved to tears. I sat in the corner and did not cry once. Three months later, Tessa left for overseas training. My husband came home exhausted, wanting to hug his own son. The moment Bennett Banks stepped through the door, he saw Theo building a tiny tower out of blocks. Theo looked up at him with complete unfamiliarity in his eyes. “Sir, please don’t step on my daddy’s grave.” “Elise Warren, is this how you teach our child?” Bennett stood in the entryway, his suit jacket draped over one arm. He had just returned from an out-of-town medical conference, still wearing that gentle fatigue from the hospital’s promotional photos. Bennett was the youngest associate director at the city eye hospital. Patient with his patients. Gentle with children. The nurses all said Dr. Banks had steady hands and an even steadier temper. Even when a child cried during an eye exam, he would crouch down and coax them again and again. “Don’t be scared. I’m here.” “It’ll be over soon.” But now, looking at the block grave his own son had built, his eyes held only anger. The little tower on the rug was crooked. At the top sat a yellow star-shaped block. Theo crouched beside it, both small hands protecting the star. His right eye was covered with a post-surgery protective patch. His left eye looked wetly at Bennett. Not afraid. Strange. Bennett stepped closer. “Theo, Daddy’s home.” Theo immediately shrank behind me. “Sir, don’t step on it.” Bennett’s face changed. “What sir?” “I’m your father.” Theo lowered his head and carefully straightened the tilted star. “Daddy is inside.” Bennett’s breathing grew heavy. He turned to me. “He’s only three. How does he know what a grave is? Elise, don’t you think teaching him this is cruel?” I stood still. “I didn’t teach him.” “Then who did?” I looked at him. My voice was flat. “You.” Bennett’s brow twitched hard. “Me?” I walked to the TV cabinet and picked up the recording teddy bear. I pressed play. Theo’s soft little voice came out. “Teddy, Daddy didn’t come again today.” “The doctor said surgery kids have to be brave.” “But I’m not brave.” “Can you be my daddy?” The living room fell silent. Bennett’s face turned faintly pale. Three months ago, Theo had retinal repair surgery. The day before the operation, Bennett had promised him personally: “Daddy will be there.” That morning, Theo sat outside the operating room holding his teddy bear, staring at the elevator. Every time the doors opened, he looked up. “Mommy, is it Daddy?” But Bennett never came. Ten minutes before Theo was wheeled in, Bennett sent me a message. Tessa has her minor follow-up today. She’s scared of hospitals. I’ll stay with her for a bit. Theo has you. He won’t miss me for this short while. That “short while” lasted twelve full hours. When Theo woke from anesthesia, his eyes wrapped in gauze, his first word was not about pain. He touched his eyes and asked me, “Mommy, can Daddy not see me anymore?” Bennett took the teddy bear from my hand and turned it off. His throat moved. “Elise, I didn’t mean to miss it.” “Tessa had just finished her procedure. She really couldn’t manage alone.” “I had already spoken with Theo’s surgeon beforehand. Nothing was going to go wrong.” I laughed once. “So in your mind, not showing up still counts as being there?” Bennett’s face darkened. “Don’t be sarcastic.” Then he crouched in front of Theo and took a box from his suitcase. “Theo, Daddy brought you a gift.” “You used to love stars, didn’t you?” Inside was an imported starry-sky projector. He pressed the switch gently. Blue and purple lights instantly spun across the walls. Before, Theo would have clapped and shouted that it was pretty. Now, Theo covered his right eye and stumbled backward. I shut it off at once. “Bennett Banks!” He froze. “What?” I looked at him. “For six months after surgery, he can’t look at strong flashing lights.” Bennett’s hand stopped in midair. He was an ophthalmologist. Yet he did not know his own son’s post-surgery restrictions. Theo whispered, “Mommy, stars hurt my eye.” Bennett’s face shifted between blue and white. He wanted to explain, but his phone rang. Two words flashed on the screen. Tessa Lane. His expression softened almost instinctively. “What’s wrong?” On the other end, Tessa’s voice sounded tearful. “Bennett, I can’t find my visa materials.” “My mentor said I have to submit the eye evaluation report tomorrow. I really can’t handle it by myself.” “Can you come over?” Bennett held the phone and glanced at Theo. Theo looked back at him too. Very quietly. After two seconds of silence, Bennett stood. “Elise, Tessa’s overseas documents are urgent.” “I’ll help her finish them and come back.” I did not stop him. Theo did not cry either. After the door closed, Theo walked to the trash can and put the star projector inside. Then he hugged the teddy bear and recorded another message. “Teddy, the stars Daddy gave me hurt.” “I don’t want stars anymore.” I held him. His tiny body leaned against me, so light it felt like a sheet of paper that might tear at any moment. After Theo fell asleep, I opened the drawer in the study. Inside was the referral notice from Southport Children’s Eye Center. And a fully organized divorce lawsuit file. I circled a date on the calendar with a red pen. Fifteen days from now. The final check-in day for the Southport expert consultation. I had trusted Bennett too many times. This time, I would not let Theo’s light die inside Bennett’s so-called “next time.” Ten days before the countdown ended, I had just finished a night shift when I received a call from Southport Children’s Eye Center. The other party was polite, but the words made my whole body go cold. “Ms. Warren, Theo’s expert consultation appointment has been canceled.” I thought I had misheard. “Who canceled it?” “The system shows that the child’s father, Dr. Bennett Banks, used internal hospital collaboration privileges to make the change.” I stood in the hospital hallway. The coffee in my hand fell to the floor. Brown liquid splashed over my shoes. The voice continued. “Also, the rehabilitation bed originally reserved has been released.” “If you rebook, the earliest opening is two months from now.” Two months. The doctor had said the three months after Theo’s surgery were the golden period for visual training. If missed, much of his functional recovery could be severely affected. I hung up and rushed home. Bennett was in the study. On the desk lay Theo’s medical records, rehabilitation assessment forms, and an international training guarantee file. Wearing gold-rimmed glasses, Bennett was organizing Tessa’s English documents. That focused expression was one I had seen many times. In hospital promotional videos. At academic conferences. And every time Tessa weakly called his name. But never when it came to Theo. I pulled the medical records away. “You canceled Theo’s specialist appointment?” Bennett looked up, frowning. “Why are you always so aggressive?” “Did you cancel it or not?” He removed his glasses and rubbed his brow. “Tessa needs a pre-departure eye evaluation tomorrow. That Southport expert can issue an internationally recognized report.” “Theo’s condition is already stable. We can rebook later.” I stared at him. “Bennett Banks, you are an eye doctor.” “You know better than anyone that he can’t wait.” Bennett looked impatient. “Elise, of course I know.” “But Theo isn’t an emergency. Tessa only has this one chance to train abroad.” I smiled. “So you gave her our son’s rehabilitation bed?” “It’s not giving.” He sounded perfectly justified. “It’s a temporary resource adjustment.” “Stop making everything sound so ugly.” I lowered my eyes and saw a bank statement on the desk. Two hundred thousand. Transferred from our joint account. Note: Tessa Lane overseas deposit. That money was the second-stage rehabilitation fee I had prepared for Theo. I picked up the statement. “Is this also a temporary resource adjustment?” Bennett paused. Then he quickly recovered his calm. “Tessa is going abroad alone. She needs money for emergencies.” “I’ll make up Theo’s treatment fee later.” The absurdity of it nearly made me laugh. “Later?” “Bennett, how many laters do you have left for Theo?” His face sank. “Elise, stop using the child to morally blackmail me.” “Tessa has had a hard life. Her parents don’t care about her. She’s carried herself this far alone.” “You have a job, a home, and a child. What does she have?” I looked at him. “She has you.” The study went silent for two seconds. Bennett looked away. “I’m only helping her.” I took out my phone and started recording. “Then say it to the camera.” “Say that you personally canceled Theo’s expert appointment.” “And that you transferred Theo’s rehabilitation money to Tessa Lane.” Bennett’s expression changed. “Elise, are you insane?” He reached for my phone. I stepped back. “Aren’t you innocent?” “What are you afraid of?” For the first time, anger appeared in his eyes. “You’re becoming more and more unreasonable.” “Theo is only three, and you’ve made him talk about dead fathers and star graves all day.” “You think that’s loving him?” I slapped him. The sound was sharp. Bennett’s face turned from the force. Slowly, he looked back at me, his eyes frighteningly dark. “Elise.” I gripped my phone tightly. “That slap is for Theo, who waited for you outside the operating room.” A small sound came from the doorway. I turned. Theo stood there holding his teddy bear. He had heard everything. He could not see far, so he touched the wall and walked toward us step by step. “Mommy.” I crouched and held him. Theo stretched out his little hand and touched my face. “Mommy, don’t cry.” I had not cried. But he thought I had. That night, Theo sat on his bed and pressed the record button. “Teddy, Daddy gave my doctor to Aunt Tessa.” “Does that mean I won’t have to see anymore?” I stood at the door, nails digging into my palm. My phone lit up. Tessa had posted on social media. In the photo, Bennett stood beside her, putting documents into a folder. Her caption read: Thank you to the person who always puts me first. Bennett liked the post. I stared at that line. Then I called my lawyer. “Add marital asset transfer, unauthorized cancellation of a minor patient’s consultation, and abuse of medical privileges.” The lawyer was silent for a moment. “Dr. Warren, are you sure you want to go this far?” I looked toward the bedroom, where Theo slept holding his teddy bear. “I’m sure.” “I want him to lose the right to sign even one page of Theo’s medical records.” Three days before we left, the kindergarten held a parent-child class about eye protection. The teacher called me ahead of time. “Theo’s mom, Theo hasn’t been speaking much lately.” “He keeps saying his dad is in the sky.” “If his father is available, it would be best for him to come once.” Bennett agreed. He said he had no surgeries that day and would definitely come. When Theo heard, he sat at the door and waited. He wore a little white shirt with a name tag pinned to his chest. His right eye had the light-blocking protective goggles the doctor required. He touched the goggles and asked me, “Mommy, will Daddy not like this?” I said, “No.” But I did not know either. Before the class began, the classroom door opened. Bennett came. He wore a light gray shirt with his sleeves rolled to his forearms. The moment he entered, some parents recognized him. “Dr. Banks?” “My child’s eyes were examined by you last time.” Bennett nodded gently. “How is the recovery?” The parent smiled at once. “Much better. You were so patient.” That was how he was. Professional, gentle, reliable in everyone’s eyes. The next second, Tessa Lane walked in holding a little boy’s hand. The boy’s name was Toby, Tessa’s sister’s son. Tessa wore a white dress with delicate shimmer makeup under her eyes. When she saw me, she looked apologetic. “Elise, sorry.” “Toby has been saying his eyes feel uncomfortable lately, so I asked Bennett to bring him here to listen.” The teacher froze. “But today is a parent-child activity for this class.” Tessa immediately lowered her head. “Then forget it.” “Toby’s father is away all year. He’s just too envious of other children having dads with them.” Toby looked up at Bennett. “Daddy Bennett, can I sit beside you?” Daddy Bennett. Many parents in the classroom looked over. Bennett did not correct him. He only patted Toby’s head. “Sit.” Theo stood beside me, his small hand slowly tightening around the corner of his shirt. The teacher began teaching eye protection. During the activity, parents were asked to help children with a covered-eye picture identification game. When it was Theo’s turn, he took his card and went onstage. Bennett had just stood when Toby suddenly pointed at Theo’s goggles and shouted: “Why is he wearing that?” “He looks like a little monster.” The classroom went silent. Theo lowered his head, his small hand touching the goggles. I was about to speak when Bennett did first. His voice was not loud, but every word was clear. “Toby, you can’t say that.” I had just breathed in relief. Then he turned to Theo. “But Theo, this is only a kindergarten activity.” “Take the goggles off for now.” I froze. “Bennett?” He frowned. “The classroom lights aren’t strong. There’s no need to make him look special.” “Don’t make other children think you’re seriously ill.” Theo’s hand stopped on the goggles. The teacher also looked awkward. “Mr. Banks, Theo’s mother said he needs to avoid light after surgery…” Bennett said calmly, “I’m an ophthalmologist.” One sentence silenced everyone. All the parents assumed he was right. Theo looked toward me. He could not see my face clearly and only asked softly, “Mommy, should I take them off?” Before I could answer, Bennett had stepped forward. He crouched in front of Theo. The same crouching posture. The same gentle pose. But the words he said hurt worse than a slap. “Theo, be brave. Boys shouldn’t always make everyone revolve around them.” Theo slowly took off his goggles. The white ceiling lights fell into his eyes. He squinted, and the corner of his eye instantly reddened. I snatched the goggles back and put them on him. “Bennett Banks, are you out of your mind?” Bennett’s face turned ugly. “Elise, don’t make a scene in front of the child.” Toby leaned into Tessa’s arms and whispered, “Daddy Bennett, she’s scary.” Tessa patted Toby’s back. “It’s okay. Daddy Bennett is here.” Theo heard it. He put the picture card back on the table. Then he took off the name tag on his chest and tucked it into my bag. “Mommy, I don’t want to play.” After we returned home, Theo did not eat dinner. He only hugged the teddy bear and recorded one sentence. “Teddy, Daddy said I’m not serious.” “Then if it hurts later, I won’t say it.” I sat outside the door. At that moment, I finally understood. The worst way Bennett hurt Theo was not by being absent. It was that he clearly saw the child in pain. Yet he still made the child prove in front of everyone that he did not hurt. That night, I received a message from the Southport doctor. If a post-surgery child develops eye pain, light sensitivity, or tearing, emergency treatment is required. If elevated eye pressure continues, it may cause irreversible optic nerve damage. I saved the message into my evidence folder. Then I changed our train tickets to before dawn the day after tomorrow. The day before we were supposed to leave, Theo woke up looking very pale. He sat on the edge of the bed with both hands covering his right eye. “Mommy, my eye feels swollen.” His voice was very small. I immediately picked him up and rushed to Bennett’s hospital. There were many people in the emergency ophthalmology department. After the nurse saw the initial test data, her expression changed. “His eye pressure is very high.” “How long after surgery?” “Three months.” The nurse stood at once. “Dr. Banks is in the hospital today. I’ll get him.” I held Theo in the hallway. He leaned against me, forehead covered in cold sweat. “Mommy, will Daddy come?” I stroked his head. “The doctor will come.” I did not dare say Daddy. A few minutes later, Bennett came out of an exam room. He saw us immediately. “Why are you here?” I handed him the test sheet. “Theo’s eye pressure is abnormal. The nurse said it needs immediate treatment.” Bennett took the paper. His expression clearly changed when he saw the numbers. He understood. Of course he understood. But just then, the door of the room beside him opened. Tessa walked out. She wore sunglasses and held an English report that needed a stamp. “Bennett, my eyes feel so sore after dilation.” “The doctor said my periorbital repair records need a professional evaluation, or the foreign side won’t accept them.” I looked at her. “Periorbital repair?” Tessa’s face changed slightly. Bennett avoided my gaze. I finally understood. The so-called minor follow-up was not for an illness. It was cosmetic eye-area repair before she left the country. I held Theo tighter. “Bennett, Theo can’t wait.” Bennett was silent for two seconds. “Elise, take him into the waiting room first.” “I’ll stamp Tessa’s report and handle him right away.” I could not believe it. “You know what those eye pressure numbers mean.” Bennett lowered his voice. “I know.” “Then you’re still making him wait?” He glanced at the people around us, impatience entering his tone. “This is a hospital, not a place for you to throw a fit.” “If Tessa doesn’t get this report today, she can’t fly tomorrow.” “I’ll arrange Theo’s care. It’s not like he’ll go blind immediately.” Theo trembled in my arms. He heard it. He understood the word blind. Tessa gently tugged Bennett’s sleeve. “Bennett, maybe you should see Theo first.” Her voice was soft, but her eyes landed on me. In that instant, the corner of her mouth curved almost invisibly. As expected, Bennett felt even sorrier for her. “Don’t worry about it.” “You go in first.” When he helped Tessa into the exam room, his voice softened. “Don’t be scared. I’m here.” The same three words. On Theo’s surgery day, he had never said them to his son. I picked Theo up and rushed straight to the emergency nurse station. “Change doctors.” “Now.” The nurse quickly contacted the attending physician on duty. Halfway through the exam, Theo suddenly screamed. Then his whole body went rigid. His little hands clutched his eye tightly. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. “Theo?” I patted his face. “Theo, talk to Mommy!” He looked at me. Or rather, he tried hard to look at me. But his pupil would not focus.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464465”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I caught the intern trying to sneak a kiss from my husband of convenience. She dropped to her knees in a frantic scramble, tears welling in her innocent eyes. “Mrs. Wyatt, please, please let me go.” In my previous life, I had thrown a massive, hysterical fit and divorced Gideon out of pure spite. As a result, I lost the Wyatt family’s protection, ended up entirely alone, and died a miserable death on the rain-slicked pavement while delivering takeout. Given a second chance at life, I simply stood there. Gideon cast a careless, lazy glance my way. “What, the great heiress wants to divorce me over this?” I didn’t answer. Instead, I reached out and gently took the trembling girl’s hands. “Sweetheart, I’ll be counting on you to help me take good care of him from now on.” “As long as he is happy, I am fine with anything.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw all the color instantly drain from my husband’s face. 1 “What did you just say?” Gideon turned his head to look at me. His face was a blank mask, but his tone dripped with raw disbelief. I could not be bothered to answer him. Releasing Linda’s hands, I turned on my heel, fully intending to walk away. But before I could take a step, his fingers locked around my wrist from behind. “Repeat what you just said.” Before I could even open my mouth, he pressed his lips together and offered an unprompted explanation. “Linda and I are strictly boss and subordinate.” “I got a stain on my tie. She was helping me change it, lost her balance in her heels, and just…” “I know. I believe you.” I cut him off smoothly. Gideon choked on his words, staring at me in heavy, loaded silence. The atmosphere grew suffocatingly tense until Linda suddenly broke it with a pathetic sob. “Mrs. Wyatt, I know you are still angry with me.” “You can yell at me or hit me all you want, but please stop making things so difficult. I am just Mr. Wyatt’s secretary. I cannot afford to lose this job.” This was far from her first time provoking me. When I accompanied Gideon to the annual corporate gala, she had intentionally ordered my custom evening gown in her own measurements instead of mine. Little heart shaped stickers had mysteriously appeared on Gideon’s favorite fountain pen. And whenever a project manager mistakenly referred to her as Mrs. Wyatt, she would just blush fiercely, offering a shy smile without ever confirming or denying it. I used to fight with Gideon constantly over these things. But every single time, he would just furrow his brows, looking at me with exhausted disdain. “Why are you being so petty with a young girl fresh out of college?” The memory washed over me, leaving me utterly numb. I looked at Linda with a calm, unreadable expression. “Why would I make things difficult for you?” “You did not do it on purpose. I completely understand.” Linda froze, her fake tears drying up in sheer confusion. Beside us, Gideon crossed his arms over his chest and suddenly let out a low, dark laugh. He shook his head, one brow arching in amusement. “This is getting boring.” I frowned at him. “What is?” “Playing hard to get. It is incredibly boring.” He scoffed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “For a second there, I almost thought you actually didn’t care.” 2 In my past life, I cared entirely too much. We were a marriage of corporate convenience, but we had also been childhood sweethearts. He was the golden boy woven through the entirety of my youth. It was precisely because I loved him so deeply that I could not stomach Linda’s little manipulative games. The first time I really noticed her was when I brought Gideon his stomach medication. He had chronic gastritis. When work piled up, he would routinely skip meals. When Linda pushed the office door open that day, Gideon was holding me tightly, resting his chin on my shoulder like an overgrown child, whining about his stomach ache and demanding that I comfort him. Linda stood frozen in the doorway. The rims of her pretty eyes turned a quiet, devastated red. Later that week, I found a handful of dried shrimp hidden in my catered lunch. I am severely allergic to seafood. The executive chef knew this and would never make such a fatal error. Someone had planted it there with malicious intent. The security cameras had a blind spot right over the pantry, but the footage clearly showed Linda lingering around my lunchbox. Knowing she came from a struggling household and desperately needed money for her mother’s upcoming surgery, I chose not to make a public scene. Instead, I slid a premium bank card across the table to her. I told her to consider it a loan for the medical bills to solve her immediate crisis. “Resign on your own terms and find another job.” But things did not go as planned. That night, Gideon came home enveloped in a glacial silence. Thinking the arrogant board of directors had given him a hard time again, I wrapped my arms and legs around him, murmuring soft comforts into his neck for a long time. That was until he pulled the very same bank card out of his pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table. His face was devoid of warmth. “Look at what you did.” He raised his eyes, fixing me with a stern, judgmental glare. “Linda is not like you. She clawed her way up from nothing to get here. Her life is incredibly hard.” “Even if you are insanely jealous, you do not use money to humiliate her.” I was stunned into silence. That was our very first real fight. Even when I showed him the security footage, he absolutely refused to believe Linda would try to harm me. He genuinely thought I was throwing a pampered heiress tantrum, going out of my way to bully a poor subordinate. As a punishment, he not only paid for her mother’s surgery out of his own pocket but also promoted her to his personal executive assistant. Spending day and night together in the executive suite, they grew increasingly intimate. There was a viral artisan ice cream shop I had been begging him to visit for months. He ended up taking Linda instead. When I confronted him, he brushed it off with a careless shrug. “The kid has a sweet tooth. I was just humoring her.” Linda’s birthday wish was to ride the city’s grand Ferris wheel at sunset with him. He agreed to that, too. They took countless photos together. Linda chose a candid shot of Gideon’s handsome side profile and set it as her social media background. There were times I called my husband, only for Linda’s sickly sweet voice to answer. “Mrs. Wyatt, the CEO is currently changing his clothes.” Her voice purred through the receiver, soft and victorious. “If you need anything, just tell me. I will be sure to pass the message along.” I hung up after seconds of suffocating silence. But minutes later, Gideon called back, his tone absolutely freezing. “What exactly did you say to Linda?” “Why is she sobbing her eyes out after taking your call?” “What will it take for you to believe that there is nothing going on between us? Does bullying a young girl make you feel powerful?” I listened to his accusations, drained of all energy. The fortress of trust I had built in my heart felt like it was drowning in a silent, violent tide. The wind whistled through the newly carved holes, and the pain was agonizing. And then came the day I caught Linda stealing that kiss. On our wedding anniversary, no less. Months of agonizing, unspoken grievances erupted like a volcano. Refusing to listen to any more empty excuses, I lost my mind entirely. I tore the place apart, screaming and crying. I became the crazy, hysterical woman in everyone’s eyes. Gideon watched my meltdown with a deep frown, his eyes chillingly detached. “Are you absolutely insisting on a divorce?” Eyes bloodshot, I gave a firm nod. He stood up slowly, a cruel sneer twisting his features. “I have spoiled you far too much.” “When the Vanderbilt family went bankrupt, I took on tens of millions of your parents’ toxic debts just to clean up their mess. Without me keeping the wolves at bay these past few years, your family would have been driven to suicide.” “If you insist on walking away, you will be blacklisted by Wyatt Corp. Not a single company in this country will dare to hire you.” 3 Throughout our years of marriage, that was the very first time Gideon wielded his wealth and status to crush me. His face was an emotionless mask, his logic ruthlessly clear. It was as if he were sitting at a high stakes negotiation table, threatening an enemy into submission. Perhaps the sight of my silent, broken weeping was too pathetic. His harsh demeanor softened. He calmly pulled me into his arms, pressing a gentle kiss to my wet, trembling eyelids. “Stop making a fuss. I was only trying to scare some sense into you.” “Linda and I have always been completely clean. I am not firing her, and you are going to stop making her life miserable.” “As long as you behave from now on and stop acting so paranoid, we can go back to how we used to be. Understood?” No. I did not understand. The version of me in that past life loved him too intensely. That obsessive love rotted into pure, venomous hatred. I demanded the divorce, fully intending to work my fingers to the bone to pay off those debts myself and sever all ties with him forever. I left every piece of designer jewelry and luxury clothing he had ever bought me inside the Wyatt mansion. I walked out with nothing. Driven to the absolute brink of poverty, I chose to hustle on a delivery bike rather than beg Gideon for a single dime. The final chapter of my story ended with me slipping and crashing my bike on a rain battered street. A speeding car ran over me in the next heartbeat, leaving my face a crushed, bloody ruin. Through the curtain of fine drizzle, a luxury Maybach rolled past. The tinted window lowered smoothly, revealing Gideon’s striking, deeply set eyes. He cast one indifferent, passing glance at my mangled body before looking away. He reached over to cover Linda’s eyes, his voice dripping with gentle protection. “Don’t look.” “It’s gruesome.” He dipped his head to comfort her, a soft smile on his lips, exactly as one would coax a frightened child. Some mistakes only need to be made once in a lifetime. If Gideon liked Linda that much, I had no reason to play the wicked witch trying to tear them apart. There was even less reason to force a bitter divorce, make an enemy out of a billionaire, and bring needless suffering upon myself. The next day, I ran into Linda at the corporate headquarters. I offered her a polite, breezy smile. “Linda, you will be accompanying Gideon on his business trip to Chicago again, right?” Her eyes darted nervously away. “Yes, I am…” I chuckled, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. “His hotel suite number is 1081.” Linda’s eyes widened in sheer shock. “You…” If this were the old me, I would have been sick with anxiety at the thought of them traveling alone. Not only would I have demanded they stay in completely different hotels, but I would have required Gideon to check in with me every single hour. “Relax. I am not tagging along this time, and I am not checking up on him either.” I patted her stiff shoulder affectionately. “What I said yesterday stands forever.” “If Gideon truly has feelings for you, I couldn’t stop him even if I tried. I might as well step aside and give you both my blessing.” “Who knows, if he really falls madly in love with you and wants to make you his legal wife, he will have to pay me a massive divorce settlement.” I squeezed her cold hand, winking at her. “I have arranged everything with the hotel staff. Have a wonderful, unforgettable night.” I watched her scurry away, letting out a long, satisfying exhale before turning around. Only to crash straight into Gideon’s dark, indecipherable gaze. “What were you two whispering about?” “Just telling her to take good care of you while you are away.” Remembering something, I offered a helpful reminder. “Oh, and she is giving up her weekend to fly out with you. It is a lot of hard work, so do not forget to pay her double overtime.” The air in the hallway went dead silent the moment the words left my mouth. I stood there with my arms crossed, fully expecting him to praise me for finally being a rational, accommodating wife. Instead, he let out a cold, sharp breath that sounded suspiciously like a sneer. He leaned lazily against the doorframe and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a silver lighter. “Putting on this little show of getting along with Linda… was that entirely for my benefit?” I blinked, genuinely amused by his ego. I used to keep him on a suffocatingly tight leash. Especially after my family went bankrupt, the glaring power imbalance between us turned me into an insecure, neurotic mess. In the beginning, he actually tried his best to soothe my anxiety. “Why do you let your imagination run wild? Who else would want to deal with me besides you?” “Alright, alright. If it makes you feel secure, you have total clearance to inspect my phone and my schedule whenever you want.” But after Linda entered the picture, he gradually turned cold and defensive. “Am I not allowed any basic privacy?” “Can you not give me an ounce of goddamn trust?” Pulling myself out of the memories, I looked him dead in the eye with utter sincerity. “Didn’t you always beg me to give you some freedom? Well, I am finally giving it to you.” Gideon stared me down for a few agonizing seconds before scoffing under his breath. “This little trick of yours… it is honestly pathetic.” With that, he tossed his half smoked cigarette into the nearby receptacle and walked away without looking back. 4 By the third day of the Chicago trip, the aura surrounding Gideon was still dangerously dark. Ever since Serena had caught him in the dressing room that day, a suffocating tightness in his chest simply refused to dissipate. Part of it was irritation at himself. He had knocked back a few drinks at the gala, his reflexes had dulled, and he had failed to dodge Linda’s inappropriate closeness in time. But the vast majority of his frustration was directed entirely at Serena. She was entirely too calm. Those beautiful, historically expressive eyes of hers were now completely vacant, and it was causing a strange, crawling panic to settle in his gut. In the past, every single emotion she felt was vividly broadcasted in her eyes. She never hid a single thing from him. Like that one winter dawn when he had worked straight through the night and failed to come home. Sick with worry, she threw a coat over her pajamas and drove straight to the corporate tower to find him. The building happened to be suffering a localized power outage. She was terrified of the dark, yet she blindly fumbled her way through the pitch black executive floor for nearly twenty minutes. Even though her teeth were physically chattering in fear, she kept calling out his name. When he finally found her and scooped her up into his arms, she was so overwhelmed with relief that she buried her face in his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. Every time Gideon recalled that memory, his cold heart would involuntarily melt into a puddle. Yet now, Serena had not asked to check his phone in weeks. The last time he stayed out drinking all night and returned at dawn, she did not ask a single question. She seemed to have become perfectly obedient. Her attitude toward him was significantly better than before. But something about it felt incredibly, horribly wrong. It made his skin crawl. Gideon eventually chalked it all up to one of her dramatic little phases. She loved him entirely too much. This was definitely just a new, twisted strategy to capture his undivided attention. She had pulled similar stunts in the past. Once, she had literally kicked him out of their penthouse, blazing with fury. “Since you love taking private business trips with Linda so much, why don’t you just go live at her apartment? I am certainly not stopping you.” Gideon had simply squatted by the stairwell door with a cigarette hanging from his lips, not moving a single inch. He just snapped a photo of his packed suitcase and texted it to Linda, instructing her to post it on her social media feed. Ten minutes later, he was watching Serena push open the stairwell door. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face streaked with fresh tears. She looked absolutely ready to catch him in the act of cheating. He had burst out laughing, wrapping one arm around her waist and hauling her effortlessly back inside their home. Serena could never bear to actually leave him. Her recent icy treatment was nothing more than playing hard to get. The second he showed even a fraction of interest in Linda, Serena would instantly panic and come begging for his attention again. Satisfied with his own logic, the heavy knot between his brows finally smoothed out as he swiped his keycard and pushed open the door to his penthouse suite. He had not been intimate with Serena in days. Leaning against the marble wet bar, his throat felt suddenly dry. He casually poured himself a glass of whiskey. After downing half of it, a heavy, unfamiliar heat began pooling low in his stomach. He glanced at the crystal decanter, his brow arching in surprise. An aphrodisiac blend? Did the hotel concierge arrange this? Impossible. A faint sound of running water echoed from the master bathroom. A slow, wicked smile spread across Gideon’s face as he gently set the crystal glass down on the counter. It had to be Serena’s doing. She was the only one who knew his private suite number. Just as he predicted, she was terrified of losing him to another woman and had secretly flown all the way to Chicago to beg for his forgiveness in bed. She was still utterly addicted to him. The corners of his lips curved upward as he pushed open the frosted glass door of the bathroom. The next second, a slender figure wrapped only in a white towel threw herself straight into his chest. Her breathing was ragged, her body trembling with anticipation. His heart flared with heat. He dipped his head, pressing his lips into her damp hair, his voice dropping into a husky, reassuring murmur. “You are the only woman I will ever have.” “I have never looked twice at anyone else, and I never want to divorce you.” “Everything I said back there was just to make you jealous.” The woman in his arms continued to tremble, whispering back, “Mr. Wyatt…” The air in the bathroom instantly froze. It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped directly over his head. Gideon stood paralyzed for three agonizing seconds before violently shoving her away. His voice cracked like a whip. “What the hell are you doing here?” “How did you get my room number?” She must have bribed someone or used her administrative access to find out. And that laced drink was not Serena’s romantic trap; it was hers. Gideon glared at the woman collapsed on the wet tiles. Murderous rage flashed in his eyes, and he opened his mouth to tell her to get the hell out. Until he heard Linda’s whimpering, terrified voice. “It was… your wife. She gave me your room number.” 5 Late into the night, I lay in bed and tapped open my social media feed. The very first post on my timeline belonged to Linda. It was a dimly lit photo of two hands tightly intertwined against crisp, snow white hotel sheets. The man’s wrist bore a distinct, dark mole. It was unmistakably Gideon’s. In my previous life, after Gideon and I had finalized our vicious divorce, Linda had used every connection she had to make sure their intimate bedroom photos crossed my screen. Back then, I was still holding onto a pathetic shred of hope regarding him. Seeing him physically with another woman completely shattered my sanity. That night, I had called him dozens of times in a manic frenzy. He finally picked up, his voice dripping with icy contempt. “You are interrupting me and my girlfriend.” “Do you want to beg for a reconciliation? Well, you will have to start by getting in line as my mistress.” “After all, you were the one who practically begged for the divorce.” I developed severe insomnia after that, lying awake for nights on end, staring blankly at the ceiling. I kept praying it was all a horrific nightmare. I thought if I just closed my eyes tight enough, I would wake up and everything would be exactly as it used to be. But my reality truly devolved into a living nightmare. And Gideon was the sole architect of my hell. To punish me for leaving him, he leveraged his empire to force me into repaying tens of millions in inherited debt. At his unspoken command, every reputable firm in the financial district blacklisted my resume. I was reduced to selling my physical labor just to afford a single meal. I delivered food in torrential rain, scrubbed restaurant grease traps, and cleaned public restrooms. It was that extreme, bone deep exhaustion that ultimately led to the fatal traffic accident. But in this life, I had not stood in the way of their grand romance. I had practically gift wrapped Linda and delivered her straight to his bed. Gideon had to be thrilled, right? I tossed my phone onto the nightstand, closed my eyes, and fell into the most beautifully peaceful sleep I had enjoyed in years. That was until the rapid, violent ringing of my phone cut through the dead of night like a thunderclap. It was Gideon. His voice sounded incredibly rough, almost ragged. “Were you asleep?” I nodded against my pillow, my voice thick with grogginess. “Is there an emergency?” “Did you—” He hesitated, a sharp intake of breath echoing through the speaker. “Did you check your social media feed tonight?” My guard instantly went up. “No.” His tone darkened, heavy with suspicion. “You always scroll through your feed before you sleep.” I paused, playing the perfect fool. “I was just too exhausted tonight.” Dead silence fell over the line. After what felt like an eternity, Gideon spoke, his voice completely hollow. “Linda somehow found her way into my private suite tonight.” Wow. Why on earth was he telling me this? Was the guilt of post-coital clarity hitting him? I let out an indifferent ‘oh’. “She must have gotten the floor numbers mixed up.” “She must have been terrified, poor thing. Make sure you comfort her properly.” “Was that all you called to tell me?” Gideon’s breathing through the receiver grew visibly ragged and strained. I sighed, entirely dismissive. “Look, whatever you want me to say to make you feel better, just tell me and I will say it.” More agonizing silence. If this were the old me, I would have been frantic, bombarding him with a million questions, begging to know if he was okay. I probably would have thrown on a coat and booked the next red-eye flight to Chicago. But right now, all I wanted was to go back to sleep. “Gideon, do you need anything else? If you don’t have a point to make, I am hanging up.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I am genuinely, physically exhausted.” And without waiting for the billionaire CEO on the other end to formulate a response, I ruthlessly ended the call.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464464”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

With our wedding approaching, I was happily planning our new home. Jason came back from his business trip and brought two boxes of gifts to the office. He gave Gary some exclusive imported coffee beans. He got Daisy a top-tier lavender sleep mist. He carefully catered to everyone’s preferences, but stood completely empty-handed in front of me. He casually tossed a rosewater pastry that Daisy didn’t want onto my desk. “I was in a rush and forgot to count you in. Just make do with this pastry.” Daisy leaned in with a sickly sweet smile. “Jason is so thoughtful. You are such a lucky woman, Annie.” I looked down at the ingredient label. The word ‘rose’ stared back at me, and my heart went completely numb. Seven years together. He had accompanied Daisy to countless floral exhibitions. Yet, he still could not remember that I was severely allergic to roses. The slightest contact could kill me. He didn’t even care about my life anymore. What was I still clinging to? I didn’t humbly remind him like I used to. Instead, I unlocked my phone and calmly contacted our wedding planner. “Please cancel the wedding for next month. I am backing out.” 1 Hanging up the phone, my screen went dark. I pushed the pastry to the corner of my desk, pulled out a wet wipe, and meticulously cleaned my fingers. Through the glass partition, Jason was standing by Daisy’s cubicle. Her eyes curved into a bright smile. When she reached for her mug, her fingertips naturally brushed against the back of his hand. Jason didn’t pull away. “Annie, is the pastry not to your liking?” Daisy’s voice echoed from the doorway. Jason walked in behind her, his brows slightly furrowed. “Why aren’t you eating it?” He glanced at the corner of the desk, his tone practiced and laced with reprimand. “Daisy specifically picked the biggest piece for you. Stop looking so miserable.” I threw the used wet wipe into the trash can. “I don’t like it.” I looked at him, my voice very quiet. Jason looked irritated. He stepped forward and tapped his knuckles against the desk. “Annie, are you throwing another tantrum?” He lowered his voice. “I have been working around the clock on this trip. I genuinely didn’t have time to shop for gifts. Are you really going to make a huge deal out of a pastry?” I stared at his face. After seven years together, there was a time when he would notice if I even frowned slightly. Now, he only thought I was being unreasonable. He had forgotten. Valentine’s Day of our sophomore year in college, he mistakenly bought me a cake with rose extract. I took one bite, suffered acute laryngeal edema, and was resuscitated in the ER for three hours. He knelt by my hospital bed with red, tear-filled eyes, swearing he would never let anything containing roses near me again. Now, a box clearly labeled as a double-layered rose pastry was sitting casually right next to my hand. “I am not throwing a tantrum.” Daisy stepped forward and tugged gently at Jason’s sleeve. “Jason, maybe Annie is just exhausted from the wedding prep.” She offered an understanding smile. “Don’t be mad at her. It is my fault. I didn’t pick something she likes.” Jason patted the back of her hand, the gesture heavy with reassurance. “She is just spoiled.” He turned to me, his tone softening a fraction. “Alright. I will take you to that exclusive Omakase place you love tonight as an apology. We are shooting our wedding photos next week. Cheer up.” I watched him play his familiar game of giving a slap followed by a piece of candy. I used to fall for this routine every single time. As long as he lowered his pride slightly, I would mentally make excuses for him. He was too busy. He was under pressure. He was just careless. But right now, I was suddenly, terrifyingly awake. “No need.” Jason froze. He clearly didn’t expect me to refuse. According to our usual script, I was supposed to take the out he offered, and he would smoothly move on. “Suit yourself.” His face darkened, and he tugged at his tie. “Whenever you are done throwing a fit, you can come talk to me.” With that, he turned and walked out of the office. I lowered my head, my gaze falling on the document sitting on my desk. It was a cross-regional transfer application. The company was opening a new branch in a neighboring city and desperately needed an experienced director to take the helm. Previously, Jason had forbidden me from taking it. He claimed long-distance would ruin our relationship and insisted I shouldn’t disrupt my life right before our wedding. I compromised, even giving up a major promotion just for him. I picked up my pen and steadily signed ‘Annie Bennett’ on the applicant line. The nib scratched against the paper, making a soft, definitive sound. After signing, I swept the rose pastry and its packaging straight into the trash can. Then, I opened my phone and set Jason’s messages to ‘Do Not Disturb’. His last text was still sitting in our chat from the night before. “Coming back tomorrow. Brought a surprise for you.” It turned out his surprise was forcing me to see exactly where I stood. I placed my phone face down on the desk, opened my laptop, and began organizing my handover files. It would take about a week for the transfer approval to come through. That was just enough time for me to wipe my presence clean from this place. 2 At six in the evening, the office slowly emptied out. Jason pushed the door open, his car keys dangling from his fingers. “Let’s go.” His tone was perfectly normal, as if the unpleasantness from the morning had never happened. “We are heading to the Plaza Hotel to finalize the banquet menu. Haven’t you been craving their lobster for days?” I closed my laptop without looking at him. “We don’t need to go.” I stood up and pushed my chair back into place. Jason frowned. He took a step forward and gripped my wrist. “Annie, how long are you going to keep this up?” Exhaustion bled into his voice. “I took the initiative to come pick you up. Can you please just be a little mature?” His palm was radiating heat, but the back of my hand was ice cold. Just as I was about to pull my hand away, his phone rang. It was the custom ringtone for his VIP contacts. Jason paused, immediately releasing my wrist to pull out his phone. The name ‘Daisy’ flashed on the screen. He answered, his tone softening instantly. “What’s wrong?” Daisy’s tearful voice drifted through the speaker, accompanied by faint whimpers about severe stomach cramps and not being able to move. Jason’s expression changed in a heartbeat. “Don’t move. Stay at your desk. I am taking you to the emergency room right now.” He hung up the phone and looked up at me, his eyes filled with an unapologetic, expected sense of apology. “Annie, Daisy is having acute stomach spasms. I have to get her to the ER.” He shoved his keys back into his pocket. “Go set the menu yourself. Pick whatever fits your taste, and I will cover the bill.” He didn’t wait for my response before turning on his heel. Right at the door, he stopped and threw a sentence over his shoulder. “Don’t be petty. She doesn’t have any family in this city. I can’t just leave her.” The door clicked shut, and his hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. I stood frozen, staring at the wrist he had just let go of. He used to do this all the time. Halfway through a movie, Daisy texted saying her apartment lost power and she was scared. He left me sitting in the theater alone. On the day of my wedding dress fitting, Daisy claimed her car broke down. He left me waiting in the bridal boutique in my gown for three hours. Every single time, he would tell me not to be petty. I used to believe it was because he was kind and responsible. Now I knew he simply believed my waiting for him was an unconditional right. I grabbed my purse and took a cab to the Plaza Hotel. The banquet manager was already waiting in the grand lobby. Seeing me arrive alone, he paused in surprise. “Ms. Bennett, is Mr. Mikaels not joining you?” The manager eagerly led me toward the VIP lounge. “The executive chef prepared a special tasting menu for you both today.” “He has other business.” Stepping into the VIP lounge, I saw the menu booklet resting on the table, right next to the schedule for next month’s wedding. The manager flipped the menu open. “Look here. Mr. Mikaels specifically requested that no onions or garlic be used in any of the dishes, and he added your favorite crème brûlée for dessert.” I stared at the name of the dessert, feeling a bitter sense of irony. He remembered that I hated onions and garlic. He remembered that I loved sweets. But he couldn’t remember that touching a rose would kill me. His attentiveness was entirely selective. “Mr. Odell.” I closed the menu and pushed it toward the center of the table. “I am not doing the tasting.” The manager froze, the professional smile stiffening on his face. “Is there something you are unhappy with? We can make adjustments right now.” “It has nothing to do with the food.” I reached into my bag, pulled out the banquet deposit contract, and placed it flat on the table. “Please process the cancellation for me.” The VIP lounge fell dead silent for ten whole seconds. The manager stared at me in disbelief. “Ms. Bennett, the wedding is less than a month away. If you cancel now, the deposit is completely non-refundable. Did you and Mr. Mikaels have a fight? Would you like to take some time to discuss it?” “There is nothing to discuss.” I pulled a pen from my bag and uncapped it. “Deduct the breach of contract fee as stated, and refund the remaining balance to the original account.” Seeing my absolute resolve, the manager wiped the sweat from his forehead and went to fetch the termination agreement. “Are you absolutely certain? This is a sixty-table grand ballroom.” “I am certain.” I signed my name at the bottom of the agreement. No hesitation. No trembling fingers. After signing, I walked out of the hotel. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Jason. “Daisy is on an IV drip. The doctor says they need to monitor her overnight.” “Send me a copy of the menu when you are done. I will buy you a new designer bag tomorrow to make up for it. Don’t be mad.” I looked at the message, finding it incredibly laughable. He didn’t even bother asking if I got home safely. He just directly tried to buy off my grievances with material things. 3 Returning to the apartment, I pulled out a suitcase and laid it open on the rug. Jason had purchased this penthouse, but I had personally designed and furnished every inch of it. From the plush rug in the living room to the ceramic plates in the kitchen, every single item held my quiet hopes for our future. Now, I only picked out the things that strictly belonged to me. A few everyday clothes, some professional reference books, and my two work laptops. As for the matching couple’s pajamas and the matching slippers, I didn’t lay a single finger on them. Halfway through packing, the electronic lock on the front door chimed. I paused, shoved the suitcase into the corner of the walk-in closet, and covered it with a few garment bags. Jason pushed the door open, carrying the distinct, sharp scent of hospital sanitizer. Seeing me sitting on the edge of the bed folding clothes, he walked over and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. He rested his chin heavily on my shoulder, his voice rough with exhaustion. “You aren’t asleep yet?” I didn’t struggle. I just offered a faint sound of acknowledgment. “Are you still angry?” He tightened his grip, his warm breath fanning against my ear. “Daisy is all alone in this city. It is pitiful when she gets sick. I am going to be your husband. Can’t you just be a little more forgiving?” He always did this. He used the softest, gentlest tone to lock a moral collar around my neck. If I said no, I was unforgiving. I was unreasonable. “I am not angry.” I smoothed out the shirt in my hands and placed it in the drawer. Jason seemed to let out a breath of relief. He turned me around and dipped his head, intending to kiss me. I turned my face away. His lips landed awkwardly on my cheek. He froze, his eyes darkening instantly. “Annie Bennett.” He called me by my full name, his tone lacing with a subtle warning. “I am just tired.” I stood up, avoiding his gaze. “We have to go pick up the wedding bands tomorrow.” Hearing the mention of the rings, Jason’s expression immediately softened. We had custom-ordered them from an exclusive private atelier two months ago. The inner bands were engraved with our combined initials. “Alright.” He massaged his temples. “Tomorrow is Saturday. I will spend the entire day with you. We can go check out the location for our wedding photoshoot while we are at it.” He made the promise with absolute certainty. I merely lowered my eyes and said okay. The next morning, we drove to the atelier. The designer smiled warmly, pushing two velvet boxes across the counter. “Mr. Mikaels, Ms. Bennett, your custom rings are ready. Please try them on for sizing.” I opened my box. It was a minimalist platinum band. The inside was cleanly engraved with ‘C.H. & A.B.’ Jason reached out to take his ring, but his phone rang at the exact same moment. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately. “What’s wrong?” Whatever the person on the other end said, Jason’s face hardened instantly. “I left the files in the second drawer on the left side of my desk. Look again. You still can’t find them?” He checked his watch, his brows knitting tightly. “Fine. Don’t panic. I am heading back to the office right now.” He hung up and looked at me. “Annie, Daisy lost the core data she needs for the afternoon board meeting. I have to go back and help her find it.” He grabbed his car keys, his tone hurried. “Try the ring on yourself. If it fits, just bring it home. We can look at the photoshoot locations another day.” I sat perfectly still on the velvet barstool, watching his rushing figure. “Jason.” I called out to him. He stopped in his tracks and looked back at me. Impatience was already bleeding into his eyes. “Can’t she find it herself?” I looked straight into his eyes, asking with absolute calm. “That data dictates the budget for the next quarter. A junior employee like her cannot handle this kind of crisis alone.” He frowned deeply. “Can you please not lose your sense of priority at a critical time like this?” A sense of priority. It turned out that, compared to our wedding rings, Daisy’s careless mistake was his true priority. “Understood.” Jason seemed satisfied with my obedience today. He walked back quickly, pressed a rushed kiss to my forehead, and said, “Be good. I will take you out for an amazing dinner tonight.” The shop bell chimed, and he was gone. The designer stood awkwardly behind the counter. “Ms. Bennett, about the rings…” I placed Jason’s ring back into its box and pushed it toward her. “Do me a favor.” I looked at the designer, my voice perfectly steady. “I am not taking the men’s ring.” I handed my ring over to her. “Please grind off Jason’s initials on the inside of this one. Leave only my name.” From this day forward, I did not need anyone else’s name permanently carved into my world. 4 On Monday morning, the official approval for my regional transfer was issued. The HR Director called me into her office, looking at me with heavy concern. “Annie, the new branch is basically a startup. Going there means dealing with a lot of hardship. You are getting married in less than a month. Does Mr. Mikaels know you are leaving?” “He doesn’t need to know.” I took the document and steadily signed my name on the confirmation line. “I applied for this unilaterally. I will report to the new office on Friday.” The director sighed heavily and didn’t press the issue further. Returning to my desk, I began wiping all personal files from my computer. Over the next three days, I systematically dismantled the seven years of ties binding me to Jason. I packed the last of my personal belongings from the penthouse and shipped them to the executive housing at the new branch. I quietly exited the group chats with his family, offering zero explanations. I contacted the bridal boutique and sold my custom gown. The one I had waited six months for went at cost to a desperate bride who needed it immediately. Thursday night was my final night in the apartment. I placed my key on the entryway tray. Right next to it, I left the platinum ring, now completely stripped of his initials. Having done all of this, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked out the door. Friday afternoon, I sat on the high-speed train heading to the neighboring city. The scenery blurred past the window. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Jason. “We are doing your dress fitting tonight. I will leave work half an hour early to pick you up. I promise I will absolutely not be late this time.” A second later, he sent a photo of a bouquet of pink tulips. “Saw these walking past a florist. I thought they suited you perfectly. I will bring them to you tonight.” I looked at the photo of the flowers and my lips twitched in a joyless smile. He finally remembered that I couldn’t touch roses. But he completely forgot that I utterly despised the color pink. I didn’t reply. I tapped on his profile and hit ‘Delete’. The moment the red exclamation mark appeared, I let out a long, shuddering breath of absolute relief. The train shot through a dark tunnel, plunging the cabin into temporary shadows. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat. Jason was probably still radiating absolute confidence. He truly believed that as long as he showed up on time tonight with a bouquet of flowers, I would forgive his endless string of absences exactly like I always did. He didn’t know that I didn’t belong to him anymore. At seven-thirty that evening, the city skyline lit up with neon. Holding the carefully selected bouquet of pink tulips, Jason pushed open the door to the penthouse exactly on time. He casually brushed a speck of dust off his shoulder, a self-assured smile playing on his lips. He fully expected to see Annie walking toward him the second she heard the door, reaching out to take the flowers just like she always did. He had even rehearsed the lines in his head. He knew exactly how he would lean down to kiss her, how he would coax a smile out of her. “Annie, I’m home.” However, the only thing greeting him was dead silence and the chilling, empty air of an abandoned space. The confident smile froze on Jason’s face. He stopped mid-motion while taking off his shoes, his gaze instinctively dropping to the entryway tray. Resting silently on the tray was a spare key to the apartment. Right beside it was the velvet box they had just picked up a few days ago. A nameless, suffocating panic violently seized Jason’s chest. He dropped the tulips onto the floor and reached out with trembling fingers to pry the box open. Inside lay the pristine platinum women’s ring. But the inside of the band, where their combined initials were supposed to be, had been brutally ground down. The letters ‘J.M.’ had been ruthlessly erased, leaving behind only a harsh, jagged scar that seemed to silently mock his overwhelming arrogance. Pink tulips lay scattered and crushed across the rug. Jason gripped the ruined ring so tightly his knuckles turned bone white, his eyes instantly flushing a terrifying, bloodshot red.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464463”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel