Author: Momo Chan

“Honey, the soles of my shoes are lambskin and cannot get wet. Please come pick me up.” Just as I hit send on the text to my husband, Bruno, a barrage of glowing text suddenly exploded across my vision in the pouring rain. [I seriously cannot stand this wicked wife. She treats the billionaire male lead like a dog.] [Our sweet heroine just joined his company. Once the male lead gets a taste of her gentle understanding, he will kick this spoiled brat to the curb.] [Hilarious. After the divorce, she has zero real skills. She will end up as a desperate cam streamer just to pay her rent.] Staring at the screen full of floating, malicious words, I clenched my fingers so tightly my knuckles turned white. Right at that moment, Bruno rushed over under a black umbrella, half of his bespoke suit completely soaked by the rain. Noticing my pale knuckles, he paused, then carefully tugged at the cuff of my coat. “I am so sorry, sweetheart. If I drove any faster, I would have been speeding.” 1. The glowing comments were still scrolling frantically above my head. [Thinking about how this villainess actually got to marry the male lead makes me feel so bad for our sweet heroine.] [Just wait until the male lead gets together with the real heroine. Then he will finally know what true love is.] [The more she acts out now, the harder she will fall later. Just thinking about it is so satisfying.] True love? When I lived in a freezing basement with him, splitting a single stale bagel for two meals, where was that sweet heroine? When I sold the house my mother left me and liquidated my dowry to help him survive his financial crisis, where was she? Now that Bruno was a billionaire CEO, she wanted to swoop in and harvest the fruits of my labor? On what grounds? “Sweetheart? Why are your hands so cold?” Bruno lowered his head and rubbed my hands to warm them up. His brow furrowed, his tone incredibly cautious and gentle. But looking at his handsome face, only one thought echoed in my mind. He was going to push me to the brink of ruin for another woman. I pulled my hand back. “I do not want to go home. Take me to the company.” Bruno froze in surprise. “Why do you want to go to the office today?” “I want to wait for you to finish work. We can go home together.” His eyes curved into a brilliant smile. “Okay.” When we arrived at the executive floor, his secretary immediately rushed over to remind him of a pending board meeting. “Sweetheart, go wait in my office. I will be back as soon as I can.” He hurried off, leaving me to walk into the top floor suite alone. Pushing open the heavy oak doors, the first thing that caught my eye was a bag of premium imported oranges sitting squarely on his pristine desk. They were a vibrant, flawless orange, each one carefully wrapped in delicate tissue paper. One glance told me they were ridiculously expensive. Just as I reached out to touch them, the floating comments exploded again. [Villainess, get your hands off! The sweet heroine bought those for the male lead. They are twenty five dollars each!] [She usually only dares to eat discount dollar meals, but she spent that much to buy him premium fruit. She really loves him so much.] [The heroine’s love is true love. The wicked wife only knows how to take and take.] Twenty five dollars for a single orange. She certainly was generous. I turned around, walked straight into the main administrative bullpen, and held up the bag of fruit. “Who bought these oranges?” A girl with a low ponytail timidly stood up from her cubicle. She had a very pure, innocent look. Her eyes were wide and nervous, resembling a frightened deer. “I bought them.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “If the Madam does not like them, I can take them back to my grandmother. She usually cannot bear to spend money on things like this.” The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The gazes directed at me suddenly held a heavy layer of judgment. It was as if they were all silently saying: The poor girl was just trying to be nice, why are you throwing your weight around as the boss’s wife? I did not get angry. I simply held up the oranges and smiled brightly. “You misunderstood me.” “These oranges are absolutely delicious. After all, they are twenty five dollars a piece.” The expressions on the employees’ faces shifted again. When they looked back at the girl, their eyes were filled with ambiguous speculation and quiet judgment. The girl’s face flushed a violent crimson. She opened her mouth to explain herself. I did not give her the chance. “Everyone has been working incredibly hard lately. I just ordered a massive shipment of these exact oranges. After work, every single person can go to the reception desk and claim a full box.” The office erupted into immediate cheers. “Thank you, Mrs. Crawford!” “The Madam is so generous!” The girl’s innocent smile completely stiffened on her face. Her hands gripped the hem of her shirt so tightly her knuckles turned white. The floating comments returned with a vengeance. [Ugh, trying to buy people’s loyalty. She is not even spending her own money!] [What else can the villainess do besides spend money? Once the male lead realizes how amazing the heroine is, let us see how long she can stay arrogant.] [Exactly. The male lead belongs to our sweet girl. What is she so proud of?] I looked directly at the trembling girl. “What is your name?” “Sophie. Sophie Hayes.” I nodded slowly, then turned around and walked back into the private office. A short while later, Bruno returned from his meeting. He pushed the door open with a warm smile. “Sweetheart, what were you doing out there earlier?” “Fire Sophie.” His smile froze instantly. “What?” “I said, terminate Sophie’s employment.” 2. Bruno frowned deeply. “Just because of a bag of oranges? She was just trying to be nice.” “She has ulterior motives regarding you.” Bruno stared at me for a few seconds before letting out a soft laugh. He walked over and tried to grab my hand. “You are overthinking things. She is just a young girl fresh out of college. Her work performance is outstanding. She personally secured several major contracts for the marketing department.” “I do not care about your company’s affairs.” I pulled my hand out of his grasp. “But I absolutely despise this person.” Bruno let out a heavy sigh, his tone softening to a coaxing whisper. “Sweetheart, please stop making a scene.” “The company has rules. I cannot just fire top tier talent based entirely on your intuition. What would people say if word got out?” [The male lead is protecting our sweet girl! So romantic!] [Look at the villainess eating her own bitter medicine. So satisfying.] [This is only the beginning. Later on, when she tries to frame the heroine, the male lead directly locks her up in a psychiatric ward.] A psychiatric ward. It felt as though a giant hand had violently crushed my heart. The pain was so sharp I could barely breathe. I looked up at him. His eyes still held gentleness. He still had patience. He was still trying to coax me. But he had no idea that the floating text had already shown me my gruesome ending. I closed my eyes tightly, forcing the turbulent emotions back down into the depths of my chest. “Fine. You do not have to fire her.” Bruno let out a visible breath of relief. “Thank you for understanding, sweetheart.” “Transfer all of your assets and properties into my name. Have it legally notarized.” The massive office fell dead silent. Bruno’s expression turned completely rigid. “Avery, we are in a corporate setting.” His voice dropped into a low, warning register. “Stop being completely unreasonable.” I stared at him, offering absolutely no response. His phone suddenly began to ring. He answered it, exchanged a few brief words, and hung up. He looked back at me. “I have a business dinner tonight. I will have the driver take you home first.” He did not wait for my response. He turned on his heel and walked out. His footsteps were incredibly fast. It looked exactly like he was running away. [Haha, the villainess is getting depressed!] [Serves her right. Demanding all his assets? Let us see if he ever pays attention to her again.] [Later on, when the male lead gets together with the heroine, he voluntarily hands over all his financial power. The difference in how he treats them is obvious.] I honestly do not know how I made it back to the empty mansion. By the time I snapped out of my daze, I was sitting in front of the computer in the study. The floating comments claimed that after the divorce, I would have zero skills and be forced into becoming a desperate cam streamer. What a complete joke. I double clicked a hidden folder on my desktop. It was completely filled with my professional photography portfolios. Alongside the images were scanned copies of several prestigious photography magazine awards. I scrolled through the images one by one. My gaze finally stopped on the very last file. It was a massive photo mosaic. It used thousands of pictures of Bruno and me to form a portrait of his face. Every single small photo was a cherished memory. Except for the very center, right over where his heart should be. That spot was completely empty. It was supposed to hold a photograph of the Northern Lights. Back in college, we had made a solemn promise to go see the aurora together. He told me the Northern Lights were the ultimate symbol of eternal love. Ten years had passed. We never made the trip. Opening a premium job hunting portal, I began filling out a fresh resume. I typed out every single one of my past awards and exhibitions. I attached the link to my digital portfolio at the very bottom. Then, I clicked submit. The very next day, I began picking up all the life skills I had thrown away during my marriage. I started by making my own breakfast. I ignited the stove and poured oil into the hot pan. When I cracked the eggs in, the hot oil violently splattered. A burning drop landed directly on the back of my hand, causing me to hiss sharply in pain. Bruno came sprinting down the grand staircase. He grabbed my hand and shoved it under the running cold water of the sink. “Who told you to do this kind of work?” [The drama queen is at it again. Pretending to be an independent woman.] [Does she seriously think doing this will make the male lead feel sorry for her?] [Hilarious. The male lead is just going to think she has lost her mind.] Bruno forced me to sit down on the kitchen island stool while he gently applied burn ointment to my skin. “Are you still angry about yesterday?” I remained completely silent. “I swear there is absolutely nothing going on between her and me.” “If it truly bothers you that much, I will have human resources transfer her to a branch office out of state.” The floating comments instantly went into a frenzy. [No! If she gets transferred, how will their romance develop?!] [Do not panic. They are the official couple. Even if she gets transferred, destiny will bring them back together.] [The male lead will belong to our sweet girl sooner or later. The wicked wife is just wasting her energy.] “There is no need. How you arrange your personnel is entirely your business.” Bruno looked at me, hesitating as if he wanted to say something more. He told me to sit still and not move. He went back to clean up the mess I had made at the stove and finished cooking the breakfast himself. While we were eating, my phone vibrated quietly on the marble table. It was an interview invitation. Starlight Media. It was the elite entertainment company I had dreamed of joining right after graduation. They exclusively managed top tier celebrities. That included my absolute favorite idol, Asher Lockwood. I clicked accept on the invitation, the corners of my lips involuntarily curling upward. Bruno looked up, his gaze sharpening with suspicion. “Who are you chatting with?” “An interview confirmation. I do not want to be a full time housewife anymore.” I took a large, satisfying bite of my food, my mood significantly improved. Bruno opened his mouth to object, but ultimately swallowed his words. Perhaps he just did not want to ruin the rare peaceful morning. After breakfast, Bruno left for the corporate tower. I stripped off my elegant designer dress and changed into a familiar, comfortable pantsuit. The interview went surprisingly well. However, landing a position at a powerhouse like Starlight Media required passing at least two more rounds of interviews before a final decision was made. Over the next few weeks, Bruno seemed to become increasingly busy. He came home later and later every single night. Occasionally, his clothes carried the faint, lingering scent of a perfume that simply would not wash out. I knew perfectly well that Sophie had not been transferred. But since I had already mentally prepared myself to walk away, I only focused on the path directly under my own feet. 3. It was my first official day on the job. My direct supervisor was a woman in her forties named Valerie. She was sharp, efficient, and incredibly capable. “Avery, I reviewed your portfolio. Your composition shows a lot of unique vision.” “Thank you, Valerie.” “Newcomers always start by shadowing the outdoor location shoots. Can you handle the physical strain?” “Absolutely.” The rookie phase was brutally exhausting. Outdoor shoots meant enduring the scorching sun and biting wind while lugging heavy camera equipment all over the city. After just one week, my face had tanned significantly, and the heavy camera straps had left two permanent red welts across my shoulders. But I genuinely loved it. The moment the lens pulled into sharp focus, the entire chaotic world went completely silent. There was only light and shadow. There was only the exact moment I wanted to capture. One afternoon, I had just powered down my camera and found a spot of shade under a tree to rest. Bruno sent a text message. “Sweetheart, I have another business dinner tonight. Do not wait up for me to eat.” “Do not push yourself too hard at work. You always have me.” Just as I began typing a generic reply, the floating comments flared to life again. [The male lead is finally learning how to lie for the heroine!] [He says it is a business dinner, but he is actually helping the sweet girl move into her new apartment. They are decorating their little home together!] [The male lead looks so handsome when he cooks! Such domestic bliss! They are a perfect match!] Cooking. He had never once cooked a proper meal for me. Back when we first got together, he was so poor his pockets echoed. My heart ached for him, so I fought to do all the cooking to save him time and energy. Later, when he became ridiculously wealthy, he hired private chefs and housekeepers. There was even less reason for him to ever touch a spatula. Yet he was willing to personally cook a meal for that woman. My eyes suddenly felt a little dry and stinging. I set my phone down on the grass and did not reply. It was nearly midnight when Bruno finally returned home. I was lying on my side in the massive bed, my eyes tightly closed. He walked into the bedroom and leaned down, intending to press a kiss to my forehead. There it was again. That foreign perfume. I rolled over, smoothly dodging his lips. “Sweetheart?” “I am exhausted. Go to sleep.” Bruno stood in suffocating silence for a very long time. “Alright. Goodnight.” When I woke up the next morning, there was a thick legal document resting on my nightstand. It was a notarized asset transfer agreement. Bruno had already signed his name at the bottom. The floating comments went absolutely insane. [What the hell? Did the male lead seriously give his entire net worth to the villainess?!] [Do not panic! Legally, it can be reclaimed! A marital asset transfer done before a divorce can be easily revoked in court.] [He definitely just feels guilty for spending so much time with the heroine lately. He is just doing this to keep the wicked wife from throwing a tantrum.] I had almost been genuinely moved. I placed the document back down on the nightstand. Then, I opened my chat with my best friend, Harper, who was a ruthless divorce attorney. “Help me draft a formal divorce agreement. Divide the assets strictly according to standard marital law.” Later that week, Valerie called me into her glass enclosed office. “Avery, we landed a massive contract. The client specifically requested you as the lead photographer.” “Who is it?” “Asher Lockwood.” I completely froze, certain I had misheard her. “Are you serious?” Valerie tossed the glossy contract across the desk toward me, a proud smile on her face. “Dead serious. He specifically reviewed your portfolio and demanded we book your schedule.” The fingers I used to open the folder were trembling slightly. Asher Lockwood. He was the idol I had worshipped since middle school. Back in college, I had starved myself for weeks just to save enough money to buy a ticket to his concert. I ended up fainting in the middle of a lecture hall and became the laughingstock of the entire campus. When Bruno found out, it was the very first time he had ever screamed at me. “Have you lost your mind? What is so great about him? You almost killed yourself over a celebrity!” Years later, when Bruno became a billionaire titan, his corporation collaborated with Asher’s agency several times. Yet he never once bothered to ask for a simple autograph for me. Stepping out of Valerie’s office, my first instinct was to text Bruno and share the incredible news. But remembering his explosive reaction from years ago, my fingers hovered uncertainly over the keyboard. In the end, I typed out a very different message. “I have to go on a business trip. I will be gone for about a week.” It took him over ten minutes to finally reply. “Alright. Do not push yourself too hard. You have me.” Staring at the words “You have me,” I felt an overwhelming wave of dark irony. I had him? He was going to completely belong to someone else very soon. 4. The photoshoot took place on a rugged, secluded beach. I arrived at four in the morning. I set up the heavy tripods, adjusted the exposure parameters, and ran the light tests in the freezing dark. The coastal wind was brutal. The sand whipped against my face, stinging my cheeks, but I was too focused to care. My heart had been racing since last night and refused to slow down. At exactly seven o’clock. A sleek black luxury van pulled up to the edge of the sand. Asher stepped out of the vehicle. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and dark slacks. His hair was completely unstyled, falling effortlessly across his forehead. He looked almost exactly like the brilliant young boy on stage ten years ago. No, he had changed. He was leaner now. His jawline was sharper, more defined, and his eyes held something deeper. It was the undeniable gravity of a man who had been tempered by time. “Hello, Ms. Avery.” He extended a hand toward me. I took it, my palm slightly slick with nervous sweat. “Hello.” “I studied your portfolio. Your composition is incredibly bold, and your mastery of lighting is phenomenal. I specifically asked Valerie to clear your schedule.” He offered a devastatingly handsome smile. “I hope I did not put too much pressure on you.” “Not at all.” I took a deep breath, forcing my professional mask into place. “I will give you my absolute best.” After the brief introductions, we dove straight into the work. Asher was a dream to photograph. His spatial awareness and connection with the camera were so flawless that he barely needed any direction. I crouched on the wet sand, searching for the perfect angles. The midday sun scorched my back, but my mood was soaring higher than it had in years. During a brief water break, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Harper had sent over the finalized divorce agreement. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” I stared at the PDF file. I thought about the lingering, foreign perfume on Bruno’s collar. I thought about the floating comments praising their “domestic bliss.” “Yes.” Rather than waiting around to be utterly discarded, I might as well strike while he still felt a shred of guilt and secure a decent alimony fund. On the third day of the shoot. I was carefully adjusting my aperture settings when the floating comments suddenly erupted into a blinding frenzy. [Oh my god! The male lead and our sweet girl went to Tromsø! The Northern Lights! It is so unbelievably beautiful!] [It is minus twenty degrees in Norway. The male lead was afraid the sweet girl would freeze, so he took off his own designer coat and wrapped it around her! So romantic!] [Holy crap, this is the exact scene from the original novel where they officially fall in love!] [Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!] The heavy professional camera slipped from my trembling hands and crashed onto the sand. “Ms. Avery? Are you alright?” Asher quickly walked over. “I am fine. Just fine.” I crouched down to retrieve the camera. My fingers were shaking so violently that it took me two tries to finally pick it up. The Northern Lights. He had promised to take me to see the Northern Lights. Back in that freezing college basement, he had held my hands tightly and sworn, “Avery, when I finally make it big, we are going to see the aurora.” He said the Northern Lights were the ultimate symbol of eternal love. He made me wait ten agonizing years. And now, he had taken another woman to see them. “Ms. Avery, you look incredibly pale.” Asher bent down, looking at me with genuine concern. “Are you suffering from heatstroke?” “I think I might be.” Asher immediately ordered his assistant to fetch some electrolyte medicine and handed the bottle to me himself. “Go back to the hotel and rest. We can resume the shoot tomorrow.” I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. My mind was a complete wreck. Any photos I took right now would be utterly lifeless. “I am so sorry for delaying the production schedule.” “Do not worry about it. Your health comes first.” Returning to my hotel room, I sat numbly on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The air conditioner hummed loudly, blending with the erratic thumping of my heart. Suddenly, I found the entire situation completely hilarious. I had already decided to walk away. Why was I still crying over a broken, ten year old promise? I opened Bruno’s chat and sent over the PDF of the divorce agreement. “If everything looks correct, we can sign this as soon as I return.” I honestly expected him to call me the very second he saw it. I thought he would at least ask me why. But there was nothing. An entire hour crawled by. Bruno did not send a single reply. Around nine o’clock that evening, the doorbell chimed. I opened the door to find Asher standing in the hallway, holding a warm cup of artisan tea. “Feeling any better?” He handed the cup to me. “Much better, thank you. I promise I will make up for the lost time tomorrow.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, I have a favor to ask you.” “Next month is my parents’ golden anniversary. I would love for you to shoot their commemorative portraits. Can you clear some time in your schedule? I will pay triple your usual rate.” I blinked in genuine surprise. “Me?” “Yes. Your lens captures genuine warmth.” “Thank you for the incredible compliment. I would be honored.” “Would you be open to grabbing dinner together? My parents happen to be in town, and we could sit down and discuss the aesthetic direction.” “Absolutely. Let me change into something appropriate.” After Asher headed down to the lobby, I checked my phone one last time. Still no response from Bruno. I changed into an elegant evening dress and headed down to the private dining room Asher had reserved. He and his parents were already seated at the table. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood.” “Sit, sit, please do not be so formal.” Asher’s mother immediately took my hand, her eyes sweeping over me with clear delight. “You are such a beautiful young woman.” “Thank you, Mrs. Lockwood.” Asher sat directly across from me. He offered a warm, reassuring smile and mouthed the words: Do not be nervous. I smiled back. Mrs. Lockwood held my hand, happily chatting about a dozen different things. She talked about her youth with Asher’s father, how they first met, and the trials they overcame to build their life together. “Fifty years.” She patted the back of my hand gently. “Avery, I am leaving these precious photos entirely in your capable hands.” “Please do not worry, Mrs. Lockwood. I will capture them perfectly.” Right in the middle of my sentence, the heavy mahogany doors of the private room were violently shoved open. Every single person at the table turned to look. Bruno was standing in the doorway. He looked exhausted and frantic. His tie was loose and crooked. His eyes locked onto Asher, then shifted to his parents, and finally landed squarely on me. His eyes were bloodshot. “You want to divorce me… for him?” His voice was shaking with raw fury. “You are already meeting his parents?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464462”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Before my roommate went to meet her online crush, I warned her. I told her Eric was way out of her league, a guy who stood on a pedestal. I told her he would never fall for a big girl. Tears welled in her eyes. Defeated, she let me go in her place. It worked out perfectly for me. I dated Eric, married him, and became the envy of everyone we knew. But after the wedding, he grew cold. Distant. Guilt ate at me. I was a fraud, so I constantly needed proof that he actually loved me. I became suffocating. Tracking his phone, bombarding him with calls, threatening to jump off the roof if he came home ten minutes late. That was my normal. Seven years of that. He finally burned out. Even when I dragged a blade across my wrist, he barely blinked. He just calmly told his assistant to dial 911. When I looked at him with bloodshot eyes and whispered that I might actually die this time, he looked exhausted. “Do it,” he replied. “If you die, I can finally marry someone normal.” He didn’t know I actually meant it. I closed my eyes as the biting hum of an experimental psychiatric treatment took over my senses. I really did die. But when I opened my eyes again, I was sitting on my dorm bed. It was the exact day my roommate was supposed to meet him. I looked down at the expensive white dress she had bought for the occasion. I pulled it off and handed it back to her. “I’m not going.” 1 The rain was coming down in sheets. I remembered this weather from my past life. The wind had been howling. By the time I had rushed to the cafe, I was an hour late, and the white dress Diana had bought me was plastered to my skin. Eric hadn’t asked any questions. He just walked over and draped his warm jacket over my shivering shoulders. It wasn’t until the dessert arrived that I remembered to introduce myself. “I’m Josie.” That was the screen name Diana used. He had paused, then nodded. “I’m Eric.” I walked home that night wearing his jacket. Diana had noticed it immediately. She stared at the floor for a long time before asking in a small voice if he had been disappointed. “Not at all,” I had told her. “He really likes me.” I knew I was breaking her heart, but I was too thrilled to care. She had trusted me with her secret online romance. She had no idea I was obsessed with Eric, too. Besides, Diana had everything. A wealthy family, parents who adored her, an easy life. I had nothing. Why couldn’t she let me have this one thing? I used to envy her. I was jealous of her. But once I had Eric, all of that vanished. I thought we could finally be real friends. “You’re not going? But why?” Diana’s voice pulled me back to the present. Her eyes were red. “Sadie, are you mad at me? I’ll apologize, I swear. But the meetup is in an hour. I can’t go looking like this.” “Diana.” It was the first time I used her real name. I usually called her some teasing nickname about her weight. “Do you trust me?” “I do.” “Then go meet him yourself. He’ll like you. And even if there’s no spark, you guys will make great friends.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “He won’t. He won’t like a girl who weighs a hundred and sixty pounds. You literally told me that last night.” I swallowed a heavy sigh. “He’s not that shallow. I know him.” “You know him? Since when do you know him?” Did I? We dated for three years and were married for seven. A whole decade. He never truly understood me, and looking back, I didn’t understand him either. The last thing he ever said to me was that he wished I were dead. I spent my whole life trying to prove his love, but in the end, the only thing I proved was his hatred for me. A deep, bone-chilling hatred. “Everyone knows him,” I lied smoothly. “Besides, you didn’t talk to him for months just to score a boyfriend, right?” Her cheeks flushed. “Well, it would be nice. It’s Eric we’re talking about.” Eventually, I talked her into it. She threw on her favorite oversized hoodie and sweatpants and headed out into the storm. I sat by the window, watching the rain. Would Eric like Diana? Probably. In my past life, I once overheard his friends asking about his ideal type. Lively, upbeat, emotionally stable, and above all, kind. “What about looks?” his friend had asked. “Looks don’t matter to me.” I had kicked the door open and demanded to know what he meant by that. He just looked at me with that dead, calm expression. “It means exactly what you think it means. I don’t love you. I could never love a lunatic like you.” I spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze. The sky turned bruised and dark before the dorm door clicked open. Diana walked in. She was wearing Eric’s jacket. She sat down on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the wall. “Sadie, I think he was really disappointed.” 2 I turned to look at her, genuinely surprised. Eric had manners practically coded into his DNA. He wasn’t the type to bank his entire love life on an internet stranger. Even if Diana wasn’t his usual type, he would never let his disappointment show. “Why would you say that? Are you overthinking it?” Diana threw her hands up, her dramatic flair returning. “I sat down and said, ‘Hey, I’m Josie.’ And he kept looking past me. Like he was waiting for some supermodel to walk through the door and say, ‘Just kidding, I’m the real Josie.’” “And then,” she continued, “he asked me like three times, ‘Are you really Josie? The one I’ve been talking to?’ He didn’t drop it until I literally pulled up our chat logs on my phone.” She slumped back against my pillows. “Men are all the same. Shallow. I’m officially giving up on the male species.” “Sadie, I wish I was as pretty as you,” she whimpered, resting her head on my shoulder. “I wish we could swap places. Just for one day.” I stared at the ceiling. She had no idea how much I used to wish the exact same thing. Diana only cried for one night. By the next morning, she was back to her usual self, eating pancakes and cracking jokes. My life slipped back into its familiar, exhausting routine. Classes, part-time jobs, sleep, repeat. “Sadie, sweetie, this is for you.” I had been tutoring for Sarah, a young single mom, for about a year. She was incredibly sweet. She handed me a paper bag. Inside was a thick winter coat and an envelope with a cash bonus. I looked down at my own jacket. The cuffs were frayed to threads. “Thank you, Sarah. You really didn’t have to.” I was packing my bag to leave when the doorbell rang. Sarah trotted over to answer it. “That must be my cousin,” she called over her shoulder. “She brought a friend from campus to fix my laptop.” I didn’t think much of it until the door opened. I looked up, and my eyes locked with a pair of startlingly familiar ones. “Do you guys know each other?” The girl standing next to Eric looked between us, tilting her head. “No.” “We don’t,” Eric said, cutting me off before I could finish my sentence. He was finally free of me. I should have been happy for him. Instead, a sharp, twisting pain flared in my chest. I kept my eyes glued to the floor and squeezed past him. The girl stepped aside to let me through. I knew her. Audrey. She was the daughter of Eric’s academic advisor. His favorite protégé. She was also the reason Eric had brought up divorce for the first time. He had been dead serious. He slid the papers across the kitchen counter. “You can keep everything. The house, the money. I just want out.” He was willing to walk away with nothing just to get away from me. Any sane woman would have taken the deal. But I wasn’t sane. “I’m not signing anything,” I had screamed at him. “If you try to leave me, I’ll kill myself.” He hadn’t even flinched. He just offered a bitter, hollow laugh. “I’ll make sure you get a beautiful funeral. And the day after, I’ll marry someone else.” I had gripped those divorce papers, marched out to the campus lake, and thrown myself in. I knew he wouldn’t let me die. Not in front of him. His moral compass, his family’s reputation. It forced his hand. He dove in and dragged me out. The divorce was never mentioned again. My phone buzzed, snapping me out of the memory. It was Diana. “Hey, I found that doctor you asked about. She’s a college friend of my mom’s. Super highly rated.” “Is she expensive?” “Nah, I told her you were my best friend. She’s giving us a massive discount.” I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. In my past life, Eric constantly tried to drag me to a psychiatrist. Every time he brought it up, we ended up in a screaming match. It got so bad I once pulled a kitchen knife on him. I refused to go to a loony bin. That was where my mother died. My father had dragged her there himself. I was six years old when I watched them haul her away. She looked like a feral animal fighting for its life. The next time I saw her was two years later. I had sneaked onto the bus to visit her. A tired nurse walked me down a sterile, bleached hallway. “Is my mom in jail?” I had asked. The locked doors and heavy wire mesh looked like the prisons on TV. The nurse said no. She pointed into a bleak room. Huddled in the corner was a woman with completely white hair, rocking back and forth. “That’s your mother.” When my mom saw me, she reached out her bruised hands. I was so terrified I turned and ran. By the time I finally gathered the courage to go back, she was in a body bag. I knew I was sick. I had known it even when Eric tried to help me. I was just too terrified I would end up like her. But this time, I wanted to try. Diana had told me it was just an illness. You take your meds, you talk to someone, and you get better. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be healthy. Maybe seeing Eric had triggered something, because that night, I dreamt of what happened after I died. Eric had moved out by then. He was renting an apartment right above Audrey’s. They were in the same major, working on the same projects. They always had something to talk about. Not like us. Every conversation we had felt like walking through a minefield. Audrey had probably never seen Eric lose his temper. Hell, even his own mother hadn’t seen the dark, explosive side of him that I brought out. In the dream, his phone rang. I had been dead for exactly a month. He didn’t even check the caller ID. He just answered with an exhausted sigh. “I thought you’d finally give it a rest. Obviously not.” “Look, I’m coming back tomorrow. Stop calling me. You’re giving me a headache.” “And what was all that poetic bullshit you texted me? ‘Setting you free?’ Did you watch a tragic movie and decide to play the victim again?” He always used his sharpest words on me. With Audrey, his voice was like velvet. The person on the other end finally spoke. “Eric? It’s Audrey. Were you talking to someone else?” Eric froze. He pulled the phone away, rubbed his temples, and let out a harsh breath. “Sorry. What’s up?” “I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie tonight? I really want to see that new thriller, but I hate going alone.” “Let’s raincheck,” he said quietly. “I’m just really tired.” He hung up. Then he stared at his phone. It was the longest I had ever gone without contacting him since we started dating. Frowning, he grabbed his keys and drove back to our house. The place I had finally called home. But it was completely empty. I had cleared out. The only thing left on the kitchen island was the signed divorce papers. I hadn’t taken a single dime. That was the fate of a fraud. Kicked out with nothing. He tore through the house. I had even taken the potted basil and the little succulent we bought together. I didn’t want to, but he always hated taking care of plants. I knew they would die without me. Eric dialed my number. It rang out. He sent a voice note. “What kind of game is this? You actually signed the papers? You’re really letting me go?” “If you’re serious, come back tomorrow so we can finalize this at the courthouse. I don’t want you dragging this out and ruining my chances of moving on.” Silence. He sat heavily on the couch, glaring at the screen. Just as his thumb hovered over the record button again, the doorbell rang. A dark smirk crossed his face as he walked to the front door. “Could you be any more predictable? I barely hit send and you’re already back—” He pulled the door open. His smirk vanished. It wasn’t me. It was two police officers. “Is this the residence of Sadie Collins?” Eric’s jaw tightened. “What kind of stunt is she pulling now?” “Sir, we found a body.” 3 The color drained from Eric’s face instantly. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Finally, he whispered, “Sadie?” “Sadie.” “Sadie, wake up.” My eyes snapped open. Diana’s face was hovering inches from mine. “What are you doing?” I gasped. She tapped her phone screen. “Our appointment with Dr. Bennett. It’s today.” “Right.” I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, sitting in stunned silence until my soul fully snapped back into my body. “You’re coming with me?” Diana was already doing her makeup in the mirror. “Obviously,” she said, popping her lips. “But don’t worry, I’ll wait in the lobby. Total privacy.” She held up a pair of massive headphones. “Active noise cancellation. I won’t hear a thing.” I grew up in a tiny, suffocating town where secrets didn’t exist. If someone lost a spoon, the whole neighborhood gossiped about it by Tuesday. Naturally, everyone knew my mother was a crazy woman. I spent eighteen years in that town. No one let their kids play with the crazy lady’s daughter. I hated them all. Diana was my first real friend. After college, she moved back to her hometown, and we drifted apart. I was too ashamed of my toxic life to keep in touch. When she mailed me a wedding invitation, I ghosted her. She had been hurt, but she still mailed me the bridesmaid gift. I remembered opening the box. There was a handwritten card inside. I hope Sadie is always happy. I had ripped it into pieces and thrown it in the trash. Eric had watched me do it, his eyes full of disbelief. “Why do you destroy everyone who tries to care about you?” “She’s not my friend,” I had spat back. “I don’t have friends.” Later that night, I caught him taping the shredded card back together. He left it on my desk. Ironically, when I packed up my life before I died, that taped-up card was the one thing I made sure to take with me. “Diana,” I said softly from the bed. “I’m sorry.” She walked over and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “Are you running a fever? What are you apologizing for?” I just shook my head. When we got to the clinic, the receptionist recognized Diana’s name and waved us right back to Dr. Bennett’s office. The door was cracked open. Diana, being Diana, immediately hunched over and peeked inside. I reached out to pull her back, but she gasped. “Is that Eric? What is he doing here?” I leaned in. Through the gap, I could see the sharp, familiar slope of his shoulders. “It’s him,” I breathed. “You sure?” Diana whispered. Then his low, strained voice drifted into the hallway. “If she has severe control issues… if she constantly lashes out, and sometimes hurts herself… what kind of medication does she need?” Dr. Bennett sighed. “Eric, I’ve told you. I cannot prescribe anything without evaluating the patient in person.” Eric slumped in his chair. He looked utterly defeated. “She won’t come.” The doctor gave him a sympathetic look. “Who is she to you?” Eric was quiet for a long time. “She’s my girlfriend.” Diana’s jaw dropped. She turned to me and mouthed, He has a girlfriend. The conversation wrapped up, and Eric stood to leave. I grabbed Diana by the sleeve and yanked her into the nearest stairwell. Through the heavy fire door window, I watched Eric walk past. The grief in his eyes was suffocating. Who was he talking about? Me? But he didn’t even know me in this timeline. Not really. “Come on,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “It’s our turn.” Diana shoved me into the office and shut the door behind me. Dr. Bennett was warm. She promised today was just about getting to know each other, though we might eventually have to unpack some ugly boxes. By the time I walked out, it was past noon. Diana knew I was broke, so she dragged me back to the campus dining hall, insisting it was her treat. We had just sat down when my phone rang. It was my academic advisor. She demanded I come to the administration building immediately. “What’s wrong?” Diana asked, seeing my face drop. “I don’t know.” I rarely got called to the office, let alone with that kind of urgency. Diana grabbed my hand. “I’m coming with you. Don’t panic.” My anxiety spiked instantly. I was so used to waiting for the other shoe to drop. When we reached the office, the door was open. I heard a voice that made my blood run cold. “Look what she did to my husband! Do you have any idea how much this has cost our family? And she gets to sit pretty in a fancy university while he’s rotting in a bed!” The advisor was trying desperately to calm her down. Diana’s eyes went wide. “Are they talking about you?” 4 I let go of Diana’s hand and stepped into the room. There she was. Aunt Brenda. And lying in a specialized wheelchair next to her, completely paralyzed, was her husband. Uncle Richard. “Sadie, you’re here. What is the meaning of this?” My advisor rushed over, practically shielding me with her body. “She’s right about one thing,” I said, staring dead at Brenda. I couldn’t stop a dark, twisted smile from spreading across my face. “My only mistake was not hitting him hard enough to finish the job.” If only I hadn’t been half-starved back then. I would’ve had the strength to cave his skull in completely. My advisor grabbed my arm. “Sadie, what are you saying?” I turned to her, letting the tears fall right on cue. “I was thirteen years old. He—my uncle—tried to force himself on me.” Richard’s eyes bulged, bloodshot and manic. He couldn’t move anything below his neck, but his jaw worked furiously. Saliva sprayed from his lips as he made guttural, choking sounds, trying to deny it. “Are you running a school for criminals?” Brenda shrieked. “She’s a psycho! She tried to murder him!” “Who’s a murderer?” a voice cut in from the doorway. Eric stepped into the room. I had no idea how long he had been standing in the hall. He walked right up and stood beside me. His voice was steady and loud enough for everyone to hear. “I only see a brave girl who defended herself against a predator.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464461”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The night before our senior graduation trip, my roommate stole the secret gaming smurf I had been hiding for three years. Top 100 on the server. Every skin unlocked. An account that had solo-killed pro players three times during private scrimmages. And she was using it to flirt on voice chat until dawn. Using a voice filter. Sending my pictures. Spending my premium currency to buy matching couple skins. When I confronted her, she just laughed. “You aren’t going pro anyway. What’s the big deal if I borrow a stacked account for a bit?” Furious, I tried to change the password. That was when I realized the account was already bound to her phone number. The next day at the esports resort in Santa Monica, her name was plastered across the lobby’s giant screen right next to my ID, branded as an “Academy Team Prospect.” While I stood there paralyzed, glowing text suddenly floated across my vision in thin air. [Why is the side character throwing a tantrum over a smurf account?] [Tessa is finally taking back her rightful stage.] [Zane, hurry up and give your future wife that team jersey!] Zane? I stared at the name, stunned. Wasn’t that the hotshot mid-laner my boyfriend’s pro team had just signed? 1 I first realized my account had been compromised the night before the trip. Our dorm looked like a hurricane had ripped through a shipping center. Three suitcases lay open on the floor. Sunscreen, swimsuits, charging cables, and Polaroids were scattered everywhere. Tessa sat at her desk wearing a headset. Her shoulders shook with giggles. I didn’t pay it much attention until a text message popped up on my phone. [Your gaming account is being rebound to a new device in a different location. Please confirm if this is you.] My fingers froze. The account name was LunarNoCS. It was the smurf account I had kept hidden for three years. It had a gorgeous win rate, sat comfortably in the Top 100 Challenger tier, and had a maxed-out cosmetic inventory. More importantly, it was the account I used to secretly practice mid-lane match-ups to help my boyfriend, Kieran, with his training. Kieran was the captain of the Crown esports roster. He trained constantly, and I never wanted to hold him back. So I practiced behind his back, grinding game after game. Losing until my hands shook. Staying up until 3 AM. Waking up the next day to review my VODs and do it all over again. To me, it wasn’t just a burner account. It was the physical proof of every midnight loss and every hard-fought victory. I immediately opened the game client. Login failed. The screen read: [Account has been bound to a new phone number.] A loud ringing filled my ears. Following the sound of giggling, I walked up behind Tessa. On the spare tablet I usually let her use to watch Netflix, my account was logged in. I hadn’t signed out, and the backup email had still been linked. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment crime. She had been targeting my account for a while. Her party microphone was still open. She pitched her voice up into a sickly sweet tone. “Are you going to recognize me at the resort tomorrow?” A lazy male voice responded through her headset. “I’ll recognize you. It’d be pretty hard to forget a playstyle like Lunar’s.” Tessa smiled even sweeter. “Then you have to bring me a team jacket tomorrow, okay?” I reached out and ripped the headset off her ears. “Tessa.” She jumped, nearly knocking the tablet off the desk. “Are you crazy? Don’t sneak up on people.” I stared dead at her. “Why are you logged into my account?” Her eyes darted away for a second, but she quickly straightened her posture. “What’s wrong with borrowing it? It’s not like you’re doing anything useful with it.” I tapped the chat history on the screen. The most recent message was a photo she had sent. A girl in a white dress. A side profile. The beach. It was a picture Kieran had taken of me last summer. Below it was a text: [If you give me a hug tomorrow, I promise I won’t be nervous anymore.] I let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “You stole my account, stole my pictures, and you’re catfishing guys online?” Tessa lunged to grab the tablet back. “Don’t make it sound so ugly. It’s not catfishing. He’s a pro player. I just want to network with people in the industry.” I didn’t let go. I kept scrolling up. Matching skins. Flirty voice notes. Pentakill highlight reels I had edited myself. Screenshots of my practice match reviews. She had even sent a selfie of my wrist. The guy’s contact name was saved as [Zane]. My finger hovered over the screen. Zane. The star mid-laner Crown had just dropped a fortune to sign. Kieran had mentioned him to me just a few days ago. “The new kid is pretty arrogant,” Kieran had said while peeling an orange for me in his kitchen. “Stay away from him, babe.” I had teased him for being territorial. It wasn’t so funny anymore. Seeing me go quiet, Tessa seemed to gain confidence. “You already have Kieran. Do you really need to hoard this account too? I just want people to look at me for once. Don’t be so selfish, Luna.” I opened my mouth to tear into her. Suddenly, a line of glowing text drifted right across my line of sight. [Why is the female side character getting so mad? The female lead is just taking back her rightful stage early.] I froze. A second later, more text flooded my vision like a live-stream chat. [The Lunar account was always meant to make Tessa shine.] [Luna is so greedy. She already has a pro boyfriend and she still wants more?] [The identity reveal scene at the graduation trip is going to be epic!] I read the floating words, then looked back at Tessa. She was clutching the tablet, her face twisted in a mask of perfect victimhood. Like I was the one trying to ruin her life. I suddenly smiled. “Okay.” Tessa blinked, caught off guard. I slowly set the tablet back down on the desk. “The graduation trip is tomorrow. We’ll settle this face-to-face.” 2 Tessa’s face changed. “What is that supposed to mean?” I pulled out my own phone and started screen-recording the chat logs. “It means I’m going to sit back and watch exactly how you use my account to shine.” She lunged to snatch my phone, but I took a step back. Jenna popped her head over the edge of her top bunk, a sheet mask still plastered to her face. “Who’s shining? Did a lightbulb blow out?” Maddie walked out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. “Are we fighting? Let me rinse first.” I turned the screen around for them to see. They read the logs in utter silence. Jenna slowly peeled off her sheet mask. “Tessa, did you steal Luna’s account?” Maddie swallowed hard. “And you’re using her pictures to hit on a pro player?” Tessa’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “I wasn’t hitting on anyone. I just love esports so much. I’m not like Luna. Her boyfriend is a team captain. It’s so easy for her to get into the scene.” My voice dropped to ice. “When have I ever used Kieran to get into the scene?” Tessa bit her lip. “Haven’t you? Nobody even knows if you climbed to that rank yourself. Kieran probably duo-queued with you and boosted you the whole way up.” The dorm went dead silent. I stared her down. “Say that again.” Tessa acted like she had just stumbled onto the ultimate truth. “Am I wrong? How could a girl like you get such a high rank? Your boyfriend carries you every night. It’s totally normal.” The holographic comments spiked instantly. [The female lead speaks the truth!] [Luna is just a boosted e-girl. Why is she acting like a god?] [Once Tessa wins on stage tomorrow, Luna won’t have anything left to say.] A sharp ache pierced my chest. I could handle the stolen account. I could call the police over the stolen photos. But casually writing off three years of my blood, sweat, and tears as a man carrying me to the top? That was sicker than stealing. I walked right up to her, forcing her to look up at me. “Tessa, you can steal my login credentials. But you can’t steal my mechanics. The game won’t play itself for you.” Her face went pale. I kept going. “You already signed up for the campus showmatch tomorrow, didn’t you?” Panic flashed in her eyes. I opened our college group chat. Sure enough, she had posted a message half an hour ago. Tessa: [I’ll be playing on my main account to carry everyone to the championship at the showmatch tomorrow night.] Someone had asked: [What’s your main?] Tessa: [LunarNoCS.] A string of shocked emojis followed. [Holy shit, the Top 100 account?] [Tessa, you’ve been hiding this?] [Carry us tomorrow!] She had even replied with a bashful smiley face. I shoved my phone in her face. “You claimed my ID. So tomorrow, you better back it up with raw skill.” She shrank back. “Don’t push me.” I laughed. “Weren’t you the one who stole it?” Tessa looked up, her eyes completely bloodshot now. “Luna, if you’re really that good, just go grind a new account. This one is in my hands now. Whoever’s name is on it, owns it.” I nodded slowly. “Remember you said that.” The floating text was still scrolling by. [The side character is so aggressive.] [Tessa just wants to be noticed, what did she do wrong?] [Tomorrow Zane is going to personally welcome Tessa. Luna is going to get humbled so hard.] I let out a cold laugh. We would see exactly who was getting humbled tomorrow. 3 The next morning, we boarded the charter bus to Santa Monica. The graduation trip was a three-day, two-night event organized by the college. Beach bonding, an esports-themed resort, and a massive collegiate showmatch. It sounded like paradise. If Tessa wasn’t glaring daggers at me the entire ride, my happiness would have easily doubled. She obviously hadn’t slept. Even heavy concealer couldn’t hide her dark circles. I, on the other hand, had slept beautifully. Even though the phone number had been changed, I had already contacted customer support and submitted my ID and three years of purchase receipts. It just needed time to process. Tessa thought I was powerless. She spent the entire bus ride furiously typing on her phone. I didn’t even have to look to know she was continuing her little charade with Zane. Halfway through the drive, Kieran texted me. [On the bus?] [Yeah.] He replied instantly. [Getting motion sick?] [No.] Kieran: [Then are you thinking about me?] I couldn’t help but smile. [Doesn’t Captain Kieran have practice today?] He sent a photo of the team’s training room. Half an iced Americano sat next to his mechanical keyboard. His hand rested on the edge of the desk, veins tracing over his knuckles. [Five-minute break. Specifically to think about you.] My ears grew hot. Just as I was about to type a reply, Tessa’s snide voice drifted over. “Must be nice having a pro boyfriend. Checking up on you even on a graduation trip.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “You can just ask your Zane to check up on you.” Maddie didn’t miss a beat. “Assuming he can even recognize you.” Tessa’s expression soured. My phone buzzed again. A new friend request. The note read: [Zane.] I narrowed my eyes and accepted it. His first message popped up. [See you tonight?] I didn’t reply. He sent another. [Or should I call you Lunar?] My stomach dropped. I took a screenshot and forwarded it straight to Kieran. Kieran’s side went dead quiet for three seconds. Then my screen flashed with an incoming video call. I answered it. His striking, stoic face filled the screen. “Babe.” “Yeah?” He enunciated every single word. “Zane. Added. You?” Seeing his face practically smoking with jealousy instantly lifted my mood. “Yep.” He took a deep breath. “Ignore him.” I rested my chin in my hand. “But the floating text says he’s going to get me into the academy team.” Kieran frowned. “What floating text?” I paused. Right. He couldn’t see the magical novel comments. The text started flying across my vision again. [The captain is so salty.] [But Zane is the official male lead!] [Wait a minute, Kieran’s face is honestly so much better looking though?] Reading the comments, I suddenly felt a surge of confidence. The so-called plot didn’t seem entirely unbreakable. 4 We arrived at the resort right at four in the afternoon. The lobby of the esports hotel was massive, lined with rows of high-end gaming rigs. Neon signs bathed the room in a sharp, electric glow. A giant LED screen in the center of the room displayed the roster for tonight’s showmatch. I looked up and saw it immediately. [Special Guest: Tessa] [In-Game ID: LunarNoCS] [Role: Genius Female Mid-Laner] I stopped in my tracks. Jenna sucked in a breath. “She has zero shame.” Maddie muttered a colorful curse. Tessa acted like she couldn’t hear us. She had deliberately worn the white sun-jacket from my photos. She even had the exact same hair tie on her wrist. An event coordinator jogged over with a bright smile. “You must be Tessa. Zane is already here. He gave you a glowing recommendation to the team manager. Pass the verification match tonight, and you’ll officially secure an academy scouting trial.” The crowd of students around us immediately exploded. “Zane? Crown’s new mid-laner?” “Tessa is actually LunarNoCS?” “An academy trial? She already has one foot in the pro scene!” The coordinator hung a VIP lanyard around Tessa’s neck. It read: [LunarNoCS – Crown Academy Prospect]. Tessa looked down, tracing the plastic badge with her fingers. Then she looked up at me, keeping her voice low. “Look at this, Luna. Sometimes if you’re a step too slow, what’s yours becomes someone else’s.” I pulled out my phone, intending to log in and prove her wrong on the spot. But the app flashed a system warning. [Account is currently under security lockdown. Login disabled.] Tessa’s smile widened. “Don’t bother. I already submitted the supplementary security forms. Whoever this account is registered to is the real Lunar.” My grip on my phone tightened. People in the lobby were starting to call out to her. “Lunar, you better carry us later!” “Tessa, how did you keep this a secret for so long?” “Top 100 mid-laner! Absolute legend!” With every cheer, a heavy weight sank deeper into my chest. I was standing right here, watching someone else slowly erase my name from the scoreboard. Footsteps echoed from the lobby entrance. A group of guys in black esports jerseys walked in. The guy at the front was tall, his jacket unzipped, his eyes lazy and arrogant. The silver Crown logo gleamed on his chest. It was Zane. He was holding a spare team jersey in his hand, walking straight toward Tessa. Tessa’s eyes lit up. “Zane…” The cheering from the crowd nearly took the roof off. The holographic comments were going completely insane. [Here it comes! The female lead’s golden moment!] [A pro player personally handing over his jacket, I’m screaming.] [Luna must be dying of jealousy right now hahaha.] Zane stopped right in front of Tessa. He looked down at her. A second later, he smirked. “Lunar?” Tessa blushed deeply and nodded. “Yeah, it’s me.” Zane extended the team jersey to her. Tessa reached her hands out. My phone screen was still locked on the failed login prompt. Everyone around us was chanting her fake name. Just as her fingertips brushed the fabric of the jersey, a voice sliced through the noise. It was cold, heavy, and absolutely furious. “Who gave you permission to touch that?” 5 I spun around. Kieran was standing by the entrance, a heavy duffel bag in his hand. His baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes. His black jacket was wrinkled from travel, the zipper totally misaligned. It looked like he had bolted straight from the training room and rushed all the way here. He walked past everyone and stopped right beside me. He shoved a warm cup of milk tea into my hands. “It’s hot,” he murmured. I took it, completely stunned. Only then did he lift his gaze to the giant screen. “LunarNoCS. Tessa?” He let out a low, dark laugh. It wasn’t loud, but it silenced the entire lobby. “That ID has been burned into my memory for three years.” He locked eyes with Tessa. His stare was as lethal as a grand finals match point. “Of all the people you could have impersonated, you chose my girlfriend?” Dead silence. Tessa’s hand froze in midair. Zane raised an eyebrow. “Captain, you’ve been hiding her well.” Kieran ignored him. He looked down at me. “She still has the account?” I nodded. His expression turned glacial. Tessa finally snapped out of it. The tears arrived instantly. “Kieran, you can’t just help her steal my account just because she’s your girlfriend.” Whispers broke out across the crowd. “Wait, who’s the real one?” “Tessa can log into the account, so it must be hers, right?” “But the captain literally just said it’s his girlfriend’s.” Tessa cried harder, looking like the ultimate victim. “Luna, isn’t having Kieran enough for you? Why do you have to steal my only opportunity?” The floating comments rushed to her defense. [The female lead is so pitiful.] [Boosted e-girls always act so entitled.] [Tessa literally has the account on her phone. What proof does Luna have?] Before I could say a word, Kieran smiled. He had a beautiful smile. But anyone who knew him understood one thing: the brighter he smiled, the more dangerous he was. “You can rebind a phone number,” Kieran said smoothly. “You can’t rebind raw mechanics.” He glanced over at Zane. “Haven’t you been trying to track Lunar down for six months?” Zane lazily pulled the jersey back. “Yeah.” He looked at Tessa, the amusement in his eyes fading slightly. “She solo-killed me three times in a private server. I’ve been holding a grudge ever since.” Tessa’s face drained of color. “I’m… I’m not feeling well today.” I stared at her. “That’s okay. You were feeling fine when you stole my login.” Maddie let out a loud snort. Jenna started slow-clapping. The event coordinator realized things were spiraling and quickly changed the rules. Instead of a casual showmatch, they set up an identity verification duel. A 1v1 solo lane. Tessa on her so-called “LunarNoCS” account. Me on a brand-new tournament client. Zane would referee. Kieran stood directly behind my gaming chair. He leaned down. “Nervous?” I shook my head. “Not at all.” He chuckled softly. “Good. To crush her? It’s more than enough.” I placed my fingers on the keyboard. In that moment, all the frustration and injustice vanished. I just wanted to teach Tessa a lesson. You can steal an account. You can buy skins. You can steal photos. But you cannot steal the muscle memory someone carved into their hands night after grueling night. 6 Tessa locked in an execution-heavy assassin. She had clearly memorized my match history and knew I played that champion often. But picking the champion doesn’t mean you know how to play them. I locked in an aggressive, lane-bully mage. The moment the game loaded, a massive crowd gathered behind our monitors. Tessa’s hands were visibly shaking. Level one, she missed her first minion. Then she missed her second. The guys watching behind us started muttering. “A Top 100 player missing basic CS like that? Kind of tragic.” Tessa’s face tightened. She suddenly looked up at the coordinator, her eyes glassy. “I’m really nervous. Can I use my own headphones? The crowd is too loud.” The coordinator opened his mouth to object, but someone in the crowd defended her. “She’s being forced to prove herself on the spot, obviously she’s nervous. It’s just headphones, not an aimbot.” Tessa immediately slipped her own noise-canceling headset over her ears. My brow twitched. Level two. I heard a very faint male voice bleeding from her headset. “Play patient. Go in for a trade at level two.” I heard it. Kieran heard it, too. His eyes instantly darkened. I didn’t call it out. She wanted to put on a show? I would let her perform. Following the voice, she pushed forward to pressure me. I took a deliberate half-step back. Thinking I was scared, she blew all her cooldowns at once. A second later, I turned, dodged, and locked her down. Auto-attack. Ignite. Wave management. First blood. The entire room let out a collective “Whoa.” Tessa went totally pale. The voice leaking from her headset sounded panicked now. “Why didn’t you dodge?” Tessa hissed under her breath. “How was I supposed to know her burst was that high?” I tapped my keyboard lightly. “Tessa.” She looked up at me. I gave her a tight smile. “A booster can talk you through it. But your hand is still the one on the mouse.” The holographic chat froze for a split second. Then it exploded. [She hired an Elo-booster?!] [Wait, the female lead is a fraud?] [Hold up, how did Luna even hear that?] Zane walked over, grabbed Tessa’s headset, and pulled it off her head. A frantic male voice echoed loudly out of the earpieces. “Hello? Can you hear me? Stop going in by yourself—” Dead silence in the lobby. The last ounce of color vanished from Tessa’s face. “Pause the match,” Kieran commanded. He looked at the coordinator. “Do we really need to keep verifying?” 7 The staff confiscated Tessa’s tablet and headset. They quickly pulled up the backend logs. She hadn’t just stolen my account. She had contacted an Elo-booster in advance, paying him to remotely dictate her every move during the showmatch. The chat logs were explicitly clear. [As long as I survive the verification duel tonight, I’ll get the Crown Academy tryout.] [Luna won’t do anything about the account anyway. She doesn’t have the guts to make a scene.] The lobby broke out in an uproar. Tessa sobbed, gasping for air. “I just wanted to prove myself so badly!” Jenna scoffed. “Prove that you don’t know how to last-hit a minion?” Maddie twisted the knife. “You suck at the game, and you suck at being a decent person.” Tessa buried her face in her hands. “You’re all bullying me.” I stared at her. “Tessa, you didn’t want to prove yourself. You just wanted to rip off someone else’s hard work and wear it as your own.” She snapped her head up, her eyes venomous. “Luna, stop acting so holy. Who knows if your account is even legit? Everyone knows Kieran probably boosted you.” The room went quiet again. It was the last bucket of dirty water she had left to throw. And the most disgusting one. Some people in the crowd started to murmur in agreement. “I mean, it’s not impossible…” “She’s the captain’s girlfriend. Getting carried by a pro is pretty standard.” “The stats on that account are insanely high for a normal player.” The floating comments flared back to life. [Exactly! Why does Luna get a free pass?] [Tessa was wrong to steal, but Luna isn’t necessarily innocent either.] [Boosted e-girls getting carried by their boyfriends happens all the time.] My hands curled into tight fists. Kieran took a breath to speak, but I stopped him. “Don’t talk for me.” He looked down at me, pausing. I turned to the coordinator. “Aren’t you missing a mid-laner for the main event tomorrow?” The coordinator blinked. “I’ll play,” I said. “Kieran won’t shot-call. He won’t be on stage. He won’t even touch a headset.” I looked right at Tessa. “You think I got carried? Then I’ll let everyone watch. Let’s see if I actually know how to play.” 8 After the scene in the lobby, our college counselor arrived. Tessa was dragged into a conference room. I thought she would finally shut up. But at ten o’clock that night, she posted a massive essay on the campus forum and the college gaming boards. The headline was glaring: [I admit I borrowed an account, but Luna is no saint either.] It was a mix of half-truths and lies. She admitted to logging in, but claimed I had offered to let her borrow it. She wrote: [Luna always portrays herself as this gaming god, but her boyfriend is the captain of Crown. We all know how she really got those ranks.] [I’m just a normal girl with no connections, so they teamed up to bully me.] The comment section exploded. [Playing the victim after stealing an account?] [But honestly, a pro player’s girlfriend being boosted is totally believable.] [We’ll see at the showmatch tomorrow. She’ll get exposed if she sucks.] [Pro groupies need to stay out of the scene.] I stared at the screen, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. I didn’t want to cry when my account was stolen. I didn’t want to cry when the login was changed. But seeing words like “boosted,” “carried,” and “groupie” made my eyes burn. All those nights I stayed up grinding match-ups. All those early mornings where my hands cramped but I refused to log off. Reduced to nothing but a byproduct of a man’s success. When Kieran knocked on my hotel door, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. He was holding a plastic bag filled with throat lozenges, eye drops, chocolate, and a bottle of warm milk. He set the bag down and crouched in front of me. “You upset?” I looked away. “No.” He didn’t call my bluff. He just reached out and gently brushed his fingers against mine. “Luna.” “Yeah?” “I won’t say a single word tomorrow.” I looked back at him, surprised. His eyes were deeply serious. “I’ll sit at the caster’s desk,” he said softly. “You play your own game. They say you rely on me? Then you beat them so badly they never open their mouths again.” My nose stung. “What if I play badly?” Kieran smiled faintly. “Then it doesn’t matter. But I know you won’t.” He paused, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “I believe in you more than you believe in yourself.” The floating comments went dead quiet for a few seconds before a wave of text rolled through. [Wait, I’m actually crying.] [He doesn’t want to win for her. He wants to watch her win for herself.] [Who said he was just blindly obsessed with her? He knows exactly how to love her.] I looked down, finally letting a real smile break through. “Then tomorrow,” I whispered. “You just wait for me to win.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464460”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While watching my older brother play basketball, I shot a quick text to my online boyfriend. “Babe, I’m at a game right now.” “No way. Me too, beautiful.” “Really?! Then good luck out there!!” A few minutes later, my brother’s team was getting boxed out by the rival squad. The score was painfully tight. I jumped out of the bleachers, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Go babe! You’re the absolute best!!” Thud. The moment the words left my mouth, the rival team’s captain dropped his basketball right onto the hardwood. 1 “Yes! We got it!!” Final minute on the clock. My brother sank a clean three-pointer, completely flipping the score and securing the championship title. I practically vibrated with excitement, jumping up and down in the stands and waving frantically at him. “Reginald! You were incredible!” “What are you doing here?” My brother grabbed the water bottle I held out to him, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his jersey. I told him I had just gone to the campus bookstore to print some syllabi. On my way back, I heard the squeak of sneakers and the buzzer from the court. He had texted me about the finals earlier this week. I remembered, so I took a detour to watch. His teammates started trickling toward the sidelines to hydrate. When they saw me, their eyes went wide. “Pierce! Since when do you have a gorgeous girl hanging around?” “Back off.” Reginald shot his teammate a lethal, warning glare. The guys just laughed it off, though their eyes kept drifting toward me with blatant curiosity. I couldn’t exactly blame them. I was a brand-new freshman. Reginald was a grad student. He had gotten early admission to his master’s program, locked himself in a lab for a major physics project, and hadn’t been home in half a year. He wasn’t even there when I took my finals or applied for colleges. By the time I got accepted into his university, he had essentially moved me into my dorm on day one, patted my head, and vanished back into his laboratory. This was the very first time I was officially standing in front of his friends. “Hi everyone. I’m Harper.” I offered them a polite smile. I was just about to add that I was Reginald’s little sister, but he cut me off entirely. “Alright, show’s over. Head back to your dorm. Text me if you need anything.” He snatched my tote bag off the floor and handed it to me. He stood tall, deliberately blocking his teammates’ line of sight like he was shielding me from a pack of wolves. I blinked, totally lost, but nodded obediently. Whatever. The game was over anyway. I needed to get back to my room and text my boyfriend. I wondered how his game went. “Oh, right. Reginald, that three-pointer was insane. I got it on video. I’ll send it to you later,” I bragged. A highlight reel like that deserved to be immortalized. Reginald’s face softened into an exasperated smile, and he waved me off. I turned on my heel to leave. And immediately slammed face-first into a solid wall of a chest. Smack. “Ow!” My phone slipped from my grip and clattered onto the polished wood floor. I froze in a panic, dropping to my knees to grab it. Before I could even look up to see who I had hit, Reginald’s entire demeanor shifted. He took a sharp, aggressive step forward. “Brooks, what is your problem?!” 2 “She bumped into me.” The voice was cold, flat, and completely devoid of emotion. It felt like a layer of frost settling over my skin. I couldn’t help but shrink back a little as I finally looked at the guy. I recognized him, but I didn’t actually know him. He was the rival captain Reginald had just gone head-to-head with. The same guy who nearly crushed my brother’s team a few minutes ago. “Why the hell were you standing right behind her blocking the way? Apologize to her!” “You’re out of your mind, Pierce.” Maybe the adrenaline from the court hadn’t worn off yet. Reginald’s voice dropped to a dangerous octave. The way he was looking at this guy was entirely different from his usual teasing arrogance. He pulled me behind his back, glaring holes into the other captain. But the other guy wasn’t backing down either. Neither of them gave an inch. The air between them felt thick enough to spark a fire. Seeing the situation escalating purely because of my clumsiness, I tugged anxiously at the hem of Reginald’s jersey. “Reginald, stop. It was my fault. I wasn’t looking.” I had just started college. The last thing I wanted was my brother getting into a fistfight on my account. Reginald set his jaw, turning his back to the guy to look down at me. “Just go back to the dorm. It’s fine.” “Don’t start a fight.” “I won’t.” I gripped the straps of my tote bag tight. I nervously peeked over Reginald’s shoulder at the rival captain. He was already looking at me. His gaze was dark, heavy, and razor-sharp. It was terrifying. It felt like he was trying to nail me to the floor with his eyes alone. I didn’t dare stay a second longer. I mumbled a quick apology to the air and practically sprinted out of the gym. 3 Nope. Absolutely not. I had to tell my boyfriend about this immediately. That guy was a nightmare. The second I unlocked my dorm room door, I pulled up my messages with Ro. “Babe, are you there? I just got so scared.” While I waited for his reply, my roommates filtered in from their afternoon classes. Someone asked if I had actually gone to watch the basketball finals. “Yeah.” “How was it? Which of the Twin Stars won?” I blinked. “Twin Stars?” My roommate stared at me like I had just admitted I didn’t know how to read. “Professor Harris’s golden boys! The physics department prodigies!” Professor Harris was an absolute titan in the academic world. His standards for taking on mentees were notoriously brutal. Because he was retiring in a few years, he had stopped accepting new students entirely. But this year, he made an unprecedented exception and took on two final graduates. He publicly stated they were the brightest rising stars the physics department had ever seen. Before they even officially joined his lab, they had represented the university in an international physics decathlon and brought home gold. The university had their faces plastered on the website’s homepage for an entire month. My roommate pulled up the university’s unofficial Instagram gossip page, scrolling to the paparazzi-style photos the campus admins had posted of the two of them. I took one look. Wait, isn’t that Reginald? He was that much of a big deal? A wave of intense, unbothered pride washed over me. My mood instantly skyrocketed. “Oh. My brother won.” “Your brother?” “Yeah. This guy. He’s my brother.” I pointed proudly at Reginald’s photo on the screen. The dorm went dead silent for a solid five seconds. Then, they burst into laughter. “Harper, stop messing around. How could Reginald Pierce be your brother?” “Exactly. You guys have totally different last names. You don’t even look alike.” I sighed. I knew this was coming. I had heard this exact script hundreds of times since I was a kid. But this time, I came prepared. “Look. Here’s our official family registry, and here’s a family portrait from last Christmas.” I pulled out my phone and swiped to my favorites album, holding it up with a smug grin. My roommates’ jaws hit the floor. I kept going. “I took my mom’s maiden name, Sullivan. He took my dad’s last name, Pierce.” As for not looking alike. That was just genetics. But if you looked really, really closely at our eyes, you could see the resemblance. A moment later, a collective shriek echoed through the dorm. “Oh my god! Reginald is actually your brother?!” “Yep.” They would have met him on move-in day, but he was in such a rush to get back to the lab that he literally dropped my boxes in the lobby and sprinted away. 4 My roommates couldn’t hide their excitement. They practically begged me to introduce them the next time I saw him. They wanted to breathe the same air as a certified campus legend. I agreed easily. No big deal. Then someone asked another question. “What about the other one? Your brother works in the same lab as him. Do you know him too?” “Who?” “This guy.” My roommate swiped to the next photo. She told me this was the other “Star.” I looked down. Wasn’t this the guy I literally just crashed into?! Judging by the photo, it was taken during halftime. He was sitting on the bench, a white towel draped around his neck. Black and white jersey, dark hair pushed back with a sweatband. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, staring down at his phone like he was texting someone. Whoever took this photo deserved a Pulitzer. How did they manage to make a guy with a death glare look like the brooding male lead of a coming-of-age movie? It was the most liked photo on the entire campus page. Mostly because the guy was looking down at his screen with a faint, barely-there smile. What was he smiling at? I had only seen him look like he wanted to commit a felony. “I don’t know him,” I said, shaking my head. My roommates looked a little disappointed and were about to pivot to a new piece of gossip when my phone buzzed on my desk. My boyfriend finally texted back!!! 5 “Hold on, I have to reply to this.” I tuned out my roommates’ chatter and unlocked my screen. Ro: “Beautiful. I just got out of the shower. What happened?” I originally wanted to vent about the terrifying guy at the basketball court. But after the whole conversation with my roommates, the incident didn’t feel like a big deal anymore. “Nothing, babe. Just missed you. How was your game?” The typing bubble popped up. He went quiet for a full minute before sending a single word. “Lost.” Oh no. He must be crushed. My heart squeezed. My fingers flew across the keyboard trying to comfort him. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” “We’ll get them next time.” “It was just a bad matchup.” “In my heart, you’re always the MVP anyway.” I fired off four or five texts in a row. Sensing my panic, he sent back a cute sticker of a cat patting another cat’s head. “It’s probably because I didn’t have you in the bleachers cheering for me.” “The other team had a lot of girls screaming for them today.” Oh, so that was it. I spammed him with a dozen heart-eyed stickers. He went quiet again. But I could see the typing indicator flashing on and off at the top of the screen. He was hesitating. “Babe, do you want to say something?” “Can you send me a picture of yourself?” Huh? Ro: “I just really want to know what you look like right now.” Ro and I met online right before my final high school exams. I had been so anxious that I posted a thread on a college forum asking for study tips and survival guides. He had left a massive, incredibly detailed comment breaking down everything I needed to know. At the very end of his essay, he wrote: “It’s just one normal test. You’ll face a million other tests in your life. Take a deep breath.” When my scores came out, I realized I had enough points to get into Reginald’s university. I went back to the forum specifically to thank him. We kept talking. Eventually, it turned into something real. We had planned to meet up in person. But moving to a new state and dealing with freshman orientation had kept me too busy. The meetup kept getting pushed back. “Sure.” Before we started dating, I had actually dared him to send a picture first. “Let me see those abs.” He had just gotten out of the shower back then, too. Surprisingly, he actually listened. He sent a mirror selfie that completely rewired my brain chemistry. That photo was honestly fifty percent of the reason I flirted so aggressively until he agreed to be my boyfriend. I had wanted to send him a picture of myself back then, but he never asked, and I didn’t want to seem desperate. Luckily, I loved taking photos, so I had a massive backlog of great ones. Without overthinking it, I scrolled through my camera roll and picked a candid I took right before the basketball game today. “Here’s my OOTD for today.” 6 Honestly, my heart was hammering against my ribs. I stared at the screen, waiting in pure agony for his reply. But he didn’t say anything. What was happening? Did he think I was ugly? No way. My mom used to put me in child modeling catalogs. In high school, a talent scout literally tried to stop me at the mall. Plus, my selfie lighting was immaculate. There was no way I looked bad enough to render him speechless. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” “Am I ugly?” I frowned at my phone. Please don’t let this be a disaster. We were supposed to meet up in person soon. I hadn’t even touched those abs yet! I was instantly regretting sending the photo. Then his text came through. “No. You’re beautiful.” “Really? Swear to god.” “I swear.” Thank god. I let out a massive sigh of relief. But the typing indicator popped up again. He clearly wanted to say something else. I waited. And waited. Nothing came through. I didn’t have time to overthink it because my roommates had finally caught on to my giggling. They swarmed my desk. “Harper Sullivan! Fess up right now. Who are you texting?!” “Is that a boyfriend?!” 7 After classes the next day, Reginald texted me to meet him at the graduate dining hall for dinner. “How are classes? Are you adjusting to the dorm? Are your roommates crazy?” He sounded like a stressed-out soccer mom. I nodded along to his interrogation while staring down at the sautéed beef liver on my cafeteria tray. I cringed. I picked up my fork and immediately started shoving every single piece of liver onto Reginald’s plate. “What are you doing? Put that back.” “I hate the texture.” “Tough. You have anemia. You are not skipping your iron.” Reginald’s voice dropped into his serious, authoritative tone. I had no idea who he learned that terrifying glare from, but I had been scared of him since we were kids. Whenever his face went blank like that, I lost all my nerve. I pouted dramatically. Slowly, miserably, I moved the liver back to my plate and started chewing it like it was cardboard. Reginald watched me suffer for a minute before sighing. He stood up to go buy me a juice to wash it down. The second he walked away, Ro texted me. “What are you doing, beautiful?” “Eating. Beef liver is a crime against humanity.” I snapped a tragic photo of my food and sent it to him. “If you hate it, don’t eat it.” “I can’t…” I was just about to explain that I was anemic and my family treated my diet like a military operation, but Reginald returned with a bottle of apple juice. “Who are you texting?” That was fast. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I definitely couldn’t let my overprotective brother know I had a secret internet boyfriend. “Nobody. Just a girl from my dorm.” Reginald didn’t push it. He handed me the juice. “Wash it down. Focus on your food.” “Fine.” I shoveled rice into my mouth. Looking at how casually Reginald was eating, I carefully plotted my next move. “Hey, Reginald. Can you transfer me some cash?” “Didn’t I just send you your allowance last week?” “I had to buy textbooks and dorm stuff. It vanished.” I gave him my absolute best puppy-dog eyes. Reginald sighed heavily and pulled out his phone. “Sent.” I eagerly opened my banking app. “Thank you—wait, why is it so low?” He usually sent me a thousand. This time, it was barely a hundred. “You blow through money too fast. You need to learn how to budget.” I glared at him. “Do you want it or not? If not, send it back.” “I want it, I want it.” Even pocket change was better than nothing. I smiled sweetly and accepted the transfer. Reginald finished his meal and stood up. “I have to get back to the lab to check on a simulation. Finish your food before you leave.” “Got it.” Once Reginald walked away, I lost all motivation to finish the liver. I poked at my rice with my fork. That was when I noticed a guy sitting a few tables behind where Reginald had been sitting. Wait. Wasn’t that the terrifying guy from the gym? He ate here too? Since when? I hadn’t even noticed him sitting there. Curiosity got the better of me, and I stared at Henry Brooks for a few seconds too long. Maybe he felt me looking, because those icy, razor-sharp eyes snapped over to mine. He didn’t say a word. He just picked up his tray and walked right past my table toward the exit. What the hell? I apologized to him yesterday, didn’t I? Why was he still looking at me like I owed him blood money? I shook it off, headed back to my dorm, and texted Ro again. “Babe, did you eat yet?” “Yeah. Just finished.” Then another text popped up. “Do you need money right now?” Huh? What did he mean? Before I could even process the question, a transfer notification hit my screen. [Incoming Transfer: $5,000.00] I sucked in a sharp breath. “Why did you just send me this?!” “For you to spend.” “I have money.” My parents and Reginald already gave me an allowance. My savings account was completely fine. I was just typing out that I didn’t need it, but his next text stopped me in my tracks. “Keep it. It’s a gift. You don’t need to send it back.” “Spending money on my girl is exactly what I’m supposed to do.” My face flushed hot. I couldn’t stop grinning. I slapped my own cheeks to calm down. Fine. I’ll keep it. 8 The next few weeks fell into a totally normal college routine. When I struggled with an assignment, I went to find Reginald. My texting routine with Ro stayed exactly the same as before. The only stressful part was that Reginald took my parents’ orders way too seriously. He insisted on monitoring my dinners. Because of that, there were multiple times Ro would text me right while I was eating with my brother, nearly exposing my entire secret life. Aside from that, I started running into Henry Brooks constantly. In the dining hall, outside the science building, crossing the quad. Obviously, he worked in the same lab as Reginald. Bumping into him wasn’t entirely unnatural. But I had heard rumors from the upperclassmen. Apparently, Reginald and Henry despised each other. If you walked past their lab, you could regularly hear them arguing. “Are they, like, mortal enemies?” I asked a senior in my dorm. “It’s not that deep. It’s physics. Friction creates progress.” Right. That explained why every time I caught Henry looking at Reginald, his eyes were practically shooting lightning bolts. I didn’t think much of it. Until one evening. I had just finished dinner and was lounging in the dorm when my roommate suddenly sat bolt upright in her bed. “Holy crap. You guys, you have to read what just got posted on the campus confessions page!” She dropped a link into our group chat. [Anonymous Confession: What do I do if I found out the girl I like has another boyfriend?] “Another boyfriend? What is this drama? Read it!” The comments on the post were already exploding. The anonymous poster explained that he was planning to meet up with his girlfriend in person soon, but he just discovered she was secretly involved with another guy on campus. [Bro, you’re the side piece!] read the top comment. OP replied: [Shut up. The one who isn’t loved is the side piece.] OP updated again: [I’ve been watching them for days. That guy doesn’t even care about her. He forces her to eat food she hates, he refuses to give her enough money, and he snaps at her all the time.] [It breaks my heart. How do I get her to break up with him?] The replies were pure chaos. Everyone loved a good trainwreck. My roommates were scrolling through the thread like it was a reality TV finale, reading the funniest comments out loud. I couldn’t have cared less. It wasn’t nearly as interesting as Ro’s abs. “This is totally fake for attention,” I said, flipping a page in my textbook. “Who knows? But look at everyone egging him on. This is hilarious.” It really was. People were hyping the OP up, telling him to steal the girl and save her from the toxic boyfriend. My roommate even left a comment telling him to go for it. The craziest part was that the OP actually listened. [Thanks for the support, everyone. I’ve made up my mind. I’m making my move tomorrow.] My roommates howled with laughter. “I can’t believe guys like this actually exist at our school. He’s weaponizing the comments section to steal someone’s girl.” I shrugged. Not my circus, not my monkeys. 9 The next day was Saturday. I went to the library to study. I was trying to grab a reference book off a high shelf, but someone had taken the step stool. I was on my tiptoes, stretching as far as I could, but my fingers kept slipping off the spine. Suddenly, a hand reached over my shoulder and pulled the book down. “Here.” I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun around and froze. Henry Brooks? What was he doing here? Seeing me paralyzed, he held the book out a little further. “Is this the one you needed?” “…Yes. Thanks.” I grabbed the book and practically bolted to an empty desk. I pulled out my laptop, but when I looked up, Henry was pulling out the chair directly across from me. He sat down. What the hell? Didn’t grad students have private study lounges? Why was he sitting in the general undergrad section? I was confused, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I quickly shot a text to Ro telling him I was at the library, then buried my face in my textbook. When I glanced up a few minutes later, I noticed the guy across from me was typing rapidly on his phone. Oh. He had someone to report to, too? I found that mildly amusing. My phone lit up. Ro: “Good girl. I’m reading right now too.” A massive grin spread across my face. We were so perfectly in sync. But my good mood didn’t last long. Things started getting weird. For the next few days, if I went to the track to run, I ran into Henry. If I went to play tennis, I ran into Henry. I even saw him at the campus swimming pool. Seriously? My brother was practically chained to his desk in the lab dying of exhaustion. Why did this guy have so much free time? Why was he literally everywhere? I glared at Henry from across the pool. He swam like a professional. When he pulled himself out of the water, the droplets traced down the hard lines of his abs. Wow. That was… actually a really nice view. But definitely not as good as Ro’s. I texted Ro immediately, demanding a new ab pic to cleanse my palate. Ro didn’t reply. I packed up my gym bag and walked out to the lobby. It was pouring rain outside. A total torrential downpour. I didn’t have an umbrella. I was about to text my roommates to save me, but I remembered they were both off-campus at their part-time jobs. The rain showed zero signs of stopping anytime soon. “I’ll walk you back.” A black umbrella popped open right above my head. I looked up, then spun around. Henry was standing right behind me. “No… it’s fine. I texted my brother.” “Reginald is running the particle simulator. Phones aren’t allowed in that wing. He won’t see your message for at least two hours.” “…” I swallowed my pride. “Okay… thanks, then.” Henry gave me the faintest, almost invisible curve of a smile. “Let’s go.” When we got to my dorm building, I thanked him again and practically sprinted upstairs. The second I hit the third floor, my phone buzzed. Ro: “I’ll take a picture for you when I get home.” Me: “Okay! Btw, it rained so hard today. I was almost stranded at the pool. Luckily a nice guy walked me back to my dorm with his umbrella.” “…” 10 A few days after the storm, the weather spiked into a brutal heatwave. The campus felt like the inside of an oven. Around noon, I had to run an errand off-campus. By the time I walked back through the main gates, I felt like I was going to melt into the pavement. I passed by the physics building and decided to detour to Reginald’s lab to steal some air conditioning. But Reginald wasn’t there. The only person in the outer lab was Henry. “Looking for Reginald? He went to Professor Harris’s office. You can wait inside.” Normally, I would have made up an excuse and left. But it was over ninety degrees outside. I nodded gratefully, pulled up a stool, and sat down. Henry glanced at me, then pulled a chilled bottle of water out of a mini-fridge and handed it to me. “Drink.” “Thanks…” The lab was split into an outer office and an inner clean room. Henry went back into the inner room to monitor a machine. Through the glass partition, I caught him looking up at me every few minutes. His eyebrows were pulled tight. Then he would look down at his phone and type furiously. I was so confused. I barely knew this guy. We had spoken maybe ten sentences to each other since the semester started. I ignored it, leaning my head against the cool metal of the desk. The heat outside had totally drained me. My vision started blurring at the edges. A moment later, Henry set his phone down and walked out of the inner room. “Harper…” “Yeah?” I tried to lift my head. Right as I moved, the heavy lab door swung open. Reginald walked in. “Harper? What are you doing here?” “Reginald…” I stood up. Maybe I moved too fast, or maybe the heat had finally won. Black spots swarmed my vision, and the floor dropped out from under me. Both guys lunged forward. “Harper!” “Her blood sugar crashed.” Multiple hands grabbed my arms to stop me from hitting the floor. One pair of hands felt different. They were slightly cool to the touch, not warm and calloused like my brother’s. I heard the crinkle of a plastic wrapper. A second later, something intensely sweet was pressed against my lips. I opened my mouth, tasting strawberry. My lips brushed against soft, cool fingertips. Not my brother’s hands. “Brooks, I told you a hundred times no food or drinks in the lab! You’re sneaking candy in here again?!” Reginald’s voice echoed in the room. Wait. So the candy… and the hands… “She’s literally passing out on the floor and you’re lecturing me about lab safety protocols?! Do you even care about her at all?!” Oh. That was Henry shouting. He had candy in his pocket? But his words sounded so weirdly accusatory. I blinked, my vision slowly clearing. I caught the furious look on Reginald’s face. I instinctively grabbed Henry’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him like that.” “…” Before I closed my eyes again, the furious look had completely transferred onto Henry’s face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464459”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was the fake heiress of a billionaire family. When the real daughter finally returned, everyone waited for me to lose my mind and fight for their affection. Instead, I packed my bags with record speed. “I can finally leave? Oh my god, thank you. Thank you so much.” The real heiress stared at me in shock. “You don’t hate me?” I patted her shoulder. “Girl, do you have any idea what the rules are in this house?” “Six in the morning cardio, eight at night curfew, absolute silence at the dinner table, and every single date has to be approved by a corporate board…” The color slowly drained from her face. I gave her a flashy wave. “Good luck with all that. I’m off to taste freedom!” 1 “Incoming call from Bruce. Incoming call from Bruce.” I was slacking off at the office, totally engrossed in a raid on my computer. The sudden ringtone from the family butler startled me so badly my hand jerked, and my character died instantly. “Miss Jenica, Mr. Collins wants you back at the main estate immediately.” I sat up straight, my eyes darting to the calendar in the bottom right corner of my screen. My chest tightened. Could it be that day? “Bruce, is it…” “Yes,” Bruce replied, his tone heavy with gravity. “Miss Lily’s DNA results just came back. Your father has already dispatched a motorcade to pick her up.” I shot out of my office chair like a rocket. In the next cubicle, Gwen was still glued to her screen. My sudden movement made her jump, her eyes wide. “Did you win the lottery or something? Why do you look so happy?” “Better than the lottery!” I shut down my computer at lightning speed, grabbing the little potted succulent from my desk and shoving it into my tote bag. “I’m finally free!” “Okay, but why are you stealing company property?” “I’ve watered this thing for three years. We have an emotional bond.” Half an hour later, I stood at the towering wrought iron gates of the Collins estate, taking a deep breath. This is the last time, Jenica. Just play your part for one final scene, and you can escape this gilded cage forever. 2 Pushing open the heavy oak doors, I found the atmosphere in the living room thick enough to cut with a knife. My dad, my mom, and my older brother, Carter. The three of them sat on the genuine Italian leather sofas in a perfect, rigid triangle. Well, triangles are known for their structural stability. “Dad, Mom, Carter.” I greeted them one by one, the picture of a perfectly raised socialite. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the manila folder containing the DNA report resting on the glass coffee table. I kept my face entirely blank. Inside, I was doing backflips. Which limited edition designer bags should I take with me tonight? My dad didn’t notice the absolute joy dancing in my eyes. He cleared his throat in a tactical maneuver. “Jenica, sit down. We have some news to share with you…” “I’m the fake daughter swapped at birth, the real heiress has been found, and she’s on her way home right now, correct?” I answered before he could finish. “Where is she? I’ll go greet her.” The sprawling, cavernous living room fell into a dead silence. My entire family looked like they had just swallowed sour lemons. Carter narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you okay, Jenica? Did the shock break your brain?” He paused, his voice softening just a fraction. “If you need to cry, just cry. Don’t hold it in.” “Sweetheart, Mom knows you must be devastated…” “Stop right there. I am absolutely fantastic.” I raised a hand to halt their pity party. “When does my sister get here? Do you need me to help decorate her room?” My dad’s brow furrowed into a deep V. “Jenica, you… you aren’t upset? Daddy still loves you, you know.” “Why would I be upset?” I blinked innocently. “Getting a new sister is amazing.” Three pairs of eyes stared at me with heavy suspicion. They clearly didn’t buy a single word. In the script they had written in their heads, my reaction should have been: A. A total mental breakdown with ugly crying. B. Flipping the coffee table in a fit of jealous rage. C. Passing out cold on the Persian rug. They had even prepared themselves to keep Lily waiting outside until I calmed down from my inevitable tantrum. “Lily is coming home. Your status here…” Carter let the sentence hang, his voice low and warning. It was bizarre. He was actually waiting for me to lose my mind. Too bad. I just blinked at them again, refusing to take the bait. Nobody can exploit me if I make myself completely useless. 3 Carter let out a cold scoff. “So dramatic.” Then, like a grade schooler trying to show off, he waved a hand at Bruce. The butler immediately escorted a girl in a simple white sundress into the room. She was biting her lower lip, her expression a mix of terror and unease. She looked like she was bracing herself for a war. The moment I saw her face, I understood exactly how they had tracked down the real heiress. We couldn’t call them identical twins, but she was an absolute carbon copy of our dad. I took a step forward. Instantly, the family’s collective gaze locked onto me, darting frantically between Lily and myself. Feeling a sudden urge to mess with them, I held back a grin and walked toward her in torturously slow motion. Then, under their horrified stares, I threw my arms wide open. “Sister! Welcome home!” Lily froze like a statue. Her eyes went as round as saucers, looking like a deer caught in headlights. She stuttered over her words. “You don’t hate me? I’m taking your place…” “Hate you? I’m trying to figure out how to thank you!” I had barely finished my sentence when a theatrical, rhythmic sobbing erupted behind me. My mom threw herself forward with the dramatic flair of a daytime soap opera star, pulling Lily into a crushing embrace. “My poor, suffering daughter…” My mouth twitched. I silently shuffled a few steps to the side, giving my dad and Carter enough room to join the performance. The four of them huddled together in a tearful group hug. It was a scene straight out of a prime time family drama. Standing on the sidelines, watching their genuine outpouring of emotion, a tiny, fleeting pang of loss brushed against my heart. But I packed that feeling away almost instantly. While they were drowning in the sentimental atmosphere of their family reunion, I quietly backed out of the room. I marched up the grand staircase and began tossing things into my suitcase with ruthless efficiency. The very first casualty was a heavy hardcover book on my nightstand titled The Elegant Socialite’s Guide to Etiquette. It went straight into the trash can. Twenty minutes later, I reappeared at the top of the stairs, dragging a massive Louis Vuitton trunk behind me. The heartwarming family moment below froze completely. The looks on their faces were pure comedy. “Jenica Collins! What on earth are you doing? Have you lost all sense of decorum?” “I’m making room for my sister, obviously.” Lily stood awkwardly by the sofa. “You really don’t have to do that…” Seeing her distress, I walked down the stairs and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Girl, do you have any idea what the rules are in this house?” 4 She shook her head, looking utterly lost. I started counting on my fingers. “Every single day starts with a six AM run. If you’re out, you have to be back by eight PM sharp. You cannot make a single sound with your silverware while eating. And if you want to date, you need the family board’s approval.” “Oh, right. I almost forgot. On my first date when I was seventeen, they sent three terrifying bodyguards to shadow us. They scared the poor guy so badly he transferred to a different school the next week.” Her face went paper white. She shot a terrified glance at her new parents. My mom tried to cut me off. “Jenica! Stop scaring your sister!” “I’m not scaring anyone.” Just stating the daily facts. Carter was the sharpest of the bunch. He was the first to realize something was genuinely wrong here, asking me exactly where I thought I was going. “I’m going to be a normal person.” He looked at me like I had grown a second head. Taking a long stride, his tall frame blocked my path to the door. “You’ve been pampered and spoiled your entire life. Do you honestly think you can survive outside the Collins family?” I stopped and gave him a highly mysterious smile. “Carter, care to guess exactly how much cash I’ve been secretly hoarding in my private accounts over the years?” “To be completely honest, I’m just thanking God for finally showing me some mercy.” Carter was left utterly speechless. Lily grabbed the sleeve of my faux fur coat, tears welling in her eyes. “Please don’t go…” I patted her head with motherly affection. “Be a good girl. You are the sole hope of the Collins family now.” With that, I gave them a fabulous wave, gripped the handle of my suitcase, and marched out the front door without looking back. “Good luck to all of you. I’m off to chase my freedom!” Outside, Gwen was idling in the driveway in a massive black G-Wagon. When she saw my outfit, her jaw practically hit the steering wheel. “Jenica, are you eloping?” My heels clicked rapidly against the pavement as I broke into a jog. “This is way better than an elopement. This is a prison break!” I scrambled into the passenger seat and yanked the seatbelt across my chest. “Drive, drive, drive! Step on it before they realize what’s happening.” As the engine roared to life, I took one final look at the sprawling estate I had called home for over twenty years. I let out a maniacal, supervillain style laugh. “I, Jenica Collins, am finally free!” As we peeled down the driveway, I could have sworn I heard my mom screaming from the front porch. “Stop her! That suitcase is stuffed with my crocodile skin Birkins!” 5 “So, bestie, where are we going to celebrate?” Gwen’s question snapped me back to reality. Celebrate. Yes. A monumental occasion like this demanded a proper celebration. I rubbed my hands together in sheer excitement. Pulling out my phone, I opened a note I had created ages ago titled 100 Things to Do After Escaping the Collins Family. I announced my plans with raging passion. “Stop one: Greasy late night chili cheese dogs. Stop two: Loaded nachos from that shady truck. Stop three: That BBQ diner that stays open until 4 AM!” Through the open car window, the cool night wind whipped through my hair. It brought the smell of street food, an intoxicating mix of fried grease and savory spices. Back at the estate, every single calorie I consumed was monitored by a private chef. I couldn’t eat anything fattening. I couldn’t eat anything that might dull my complexion. And I certainly wasn’t allowed anywhere near food that smelled pungent. But right now, I rolled the window down all the way, let out a massive cheer, and screamed into the night sky. “To hell with socialite etiquette. I’m going to eat until I explode!” “Yeah right. With your fragile little billionaire stomach, a few greasy ribs are going to put you straight in the ER.” Gwen paused, delivering a strategic and lethal follow up strike. “Besides, do you think William Sinclair is just going to let you vanish?” I choked on my own spit. My fiery rebellion was instantly extinguished. William Sinclair. Just hearing his name felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Seeing my silence, Gwen clicked her tongue. “What? Did you just chicken out?” “It’s not about chickening out. Corporate marriages are just an exchange of core assets between two dynasties. The most reliable asset is the biological daughter. Who the hell am I?” I might as well be smart about it and keep my distance voluntarily. “Oh, spare me. You two grew up together. William’s feelings for you are…” “You’re overthinking it.” I shook my head firmly. “It’s purely a business alliance. He’s a ruthless machine. He doesn’t care if his bride is Jenica, Lily, or even my brother Carter. As long as the last name is Collins, it makes no difference to him.” Who was William Sinclair? He was the undisputed heir to the Sinclair empire, a man who had terrified veteran executives at the negotiation table when he was only sixteen. He took over the global conglomerate at twenty, establishing himself as a brutal, blood chilling force in the financial world. To a man like that, feelings were probably the most worthless commodity on the market. Why must happiness be so fleeting? My heart cracked a little as I stared out the window. “He used to be my future husband. Now he’s going to be my brother in law.” 6 By noon the next day, I woke up with a hangover so vicious it felt like a freight train had parked on my skull. I dragged myself out of bed, completely disoriented. Bright sunlight poured through the windows. Squinting at my phone, I saw the time: 1:30 PM. Perfect. I had successfully slept through breakfast and lunch. Classic me. My notifications were exploding with a barrage of texts from Gwen. “So? How was your quality time with William Sinclair last night? Did you guys unlock any new locations? The bed? The couch? Against the mirror? Against the floor to ceiling windows?” “No need to thank me. I know you’ve been thirsting over that man for years. Losing control is only human nature.” [GIF of someone winking aggressively] “Honestly though, Sinclair is looking like a full course meal these days. I’d take a bite myself.” What? What was she talking about? Where did William come from? I dug my fingers into my temples, desperately trying to fish out any fragmented memories from the black hole of my blackout. But my brain offered absolutely nothing. I scrolled further down the chat and saw a video clip. The moment I tapped play, I nearly chucked my phone across the room. Oh god. In the video, my face was flushed bright pink. My eyes were totally unfocused. I was standing with one foot perched on a plastic patio chair at the diner. Looking up at the night sky at a dramatic forty five degree angle, I took a melancholic sip from a Capri Sun pouch and spoke in a deep, philosophical tone. “Gwen, you must remember this life lesson. Love will always betray you. But a double chocolate layer cake never will.” Gwen’s voice could be heard off camera, dripping with disgust. “Are you speaking English right now?” I held up a single, solemn finger directly at the lens. With my other hand, I slowly reached into my tote bag, pulled out a stark white chef’s hat, and placed it on my head with the gravity of a coronation. “The old Jenica is dead. Standing before you now is Jenica the Great. The woman who will make you wait in line for three hours just to buy her signature cheesecake.” Gwen’s sense of humor was practically nonexistent. She was laughing so hard the camera shook violently. “Oh my god, your main character syndrome is out of control… Wait!” Her voice abruptly hitched in the video. “Behind you…” On screen, I scoffed, refusing to look back. “Trying to trick me again? Last time we were at the club you pulled the exact same…” The next second, my on screen self froze solid. Because a long, elegantly pale hand draped itself gently over my shoulder. I turned around in a drunken stupor, locking eyes with a familiar, slightly exasperated pair of dark eyes. It was William. 7 William was dressed in a razor sharp, bespoke three piece suit. His tie was perfectly knotted. He radiated an aura of ruthless corporate elite, looking entirely out of place amidst the greasy smoke of a late night diner. And there I was, foot resting on a plastic chair, wearing a chef’s hat, clutching a Capri Sun. The air in the video seemed to freeze. On screen, I blinked slowly. Suddenly, a massive grin broke across my face, and I reached out to poke his cheek. “Huh? What is William doing in a place like this? Am I dreaming…” I leaned in closer, studying him through a hazy, drunken fog. “But why is this dream version of William so cold? He doesn’t even know how to smile…” Saying that, my hands suddenly grabbed both sides of his face, and I forcefully pushed his cheeks upward. I physically dragged his face into a terrifying “smile”. I even knocked his gold rimmed glasses slightly askew. Behind the lenses, those usually calm, unreadable eyes widened in rare shock. His long eyelashes fluttered. The video abruptly cut off. Me: “…” The phone slipped from my hand and hit the mattress with a soft thud. I slid off the edge of the bed until I hit the floor, burying my face in my hands and letting out a hollow wail of pure despair. “Just kill me now.” Right as I was calculating the logistics of faking my own death and fleeing the country, my phone started ringing. Caller ID: [William the Iceberg] I scrambled to pick it up, my voice trembling like a leaf. “H-hello??” His voice came through the speaker. It was deep, low, and carried a faint, barely detectable trace of exhaustion. “You’re awake?” “A-awake. Yes.” I curled into a ball of shame. “Does your head hurt?” “I-it’s manageable.” “Good. The kitchen is on the second floor. My chef left some hangover soup for you on the stove.” Your second floor? A horrifying realization crashed into me. I looked around. I was in a completely unfamiliar bedroom, decorated in an ultra minimalist palette of black, white, and gray. There was a half empty iced Americano sitting on the nightstand. I was in William Sinclair’s house. “Wait a minute! Why am I at your house?” 8 A heavy silence stretched over the line for two agonizing seconds. “You had too much to drink last night. You threw up all over my suit, and you ruined your own clothes. When I offered to drive you back to the Collins estate, you wrapped your arms around a streetlamp and refused to let go, screaming that you’d rather die than go back.” “Then you grabbed my sleeve, demanded that we elope, and asked if I was willing to run away with you…” Me: “…” “Gwen suddenly remembered an ‘urgent emergency’. She grabbed her car keys and practically sprinted away, looking like a woman on a sacred mission. So, my only option was to bring you here.” I was cringing so hard my toes were cramping. “So… we didn’t… you know. We didn’t do anything inappropriate, right?” “You really don’t remember a single thing from last night? Do you have any idea what you did to me…” His tone sounded utterly incredulous, but he cut himself off before finishing the sentence. My heart rate instantly spiked to a hundred and eighty beats per minute. A thousand wildly explicit scenarios flashed through my brain. The bed. The couch. Against the mirror. The floor to ceiling windows. Did we actually… do it?! Jenica Collins, that is your future brother in law! You are an absolute monster! Worse than a monster! “I remember! I remember! I just… maybe the details are a little fuzzy…” I let out a hollow laugh, desperately trying to cover up the fact that my mind was a total blank. I could hear the metallic tap of a fountain pen against a mahogany desk through the receiver. Tap. Tap. Tap. Beating right against my frayed nerves. A moment later, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh came through the phone. “Jenica.” “Present!” I answered out of pure reflex, standing up straight like a student called on by the principal. “Last night you mentioned…” He paused. “You want to open a bakery?” My heart did a little jump. “Y-yes. That’s the plan.” “Do you need venture capital?” I waved my hands frantically, even though he couldn’t see me. This tiny little business didn’t need Sinclair level investment. I had already done the math. The private stash of cash I’d saved up, combined with the limited edition bags I “liberated” from the estate, was more than enough to secure a storefront. “No, no, I’m fully funded. Just come by and buy a cupcake once in a while. Be my lucky charm.” “Alright,” he agreed easily. “I’ll be there on your grand opening day.” My eyes practically turned into dollar signs. The God of Wealth was gracing me with his presence. I could hear a low chuckle through the phone, a quiet, rich sound that held a hint of genuine amusement. Just when I thought the conversation was wrapping up, he suddenly dropped a sentence entirely out of nowhere. “What if I said I am willing?” I blinked. “Huh?” “Never mind.” His voice instantly snapped back to its usual icy composure, as if that brief moment of vulnerability was just a figment of my imagination. “Get some rest.” 9 After he hung up, my phone screen lit up with a new notification. A friend request hovered on the screen: [Lily Collins has requested to add you as a friend.] Her profile picture was a meme of a crying cat. I hit accept. Almost instantly, a voice memo popped up. Her voice sounded choked with tears. “Jenica, I didn’t realize how exhausting your life has been all these years. How did you manage to survive it?” I stared at the screen, falling into deep thought. How did I survive? By being a coward with zero backbone, obviously. But since she asked so nicely, I had to give her something. [It’s a piece of cake. (Emoji with a rose in its teeth)] Lily seemed amused. “I need to learn from you! I’m going to stay strong!” She followed it up with a [We can do this!] sticker. I replied with a [Head pat] emoji, casually adding, “My new bakery is opening in a couple of days. Do you want to drop by? Infinite free cake for you. You can eat whatever you want, as much as you want.” Nobody in their right mind turns down fresh cake. Lily was clearly touched. “I’m majoring in marketing at college. I’m going to write a dedicated promotional post for your shop on my socials to pay you back… and to pay for the cake!” She sounded as excited as a little kid. I smiled and shook my head, not taking it too seriously. It wasn’t until opening day that I realized how drastically I had underestimated my little sister’s internet clout. 10 The morning sun had barely touched the display window before a massive line snaked out the front door and down the block. Crowds of girls had their phones out, aggressively snapping photos of the pastries in the glass case. “It’s true! This is the place the ‘Sweet Tooth Detective’ recommended!” “I saw the viral post too! This tiramisu looks insane. I have to review this for my followers!” “Oh my god, I am literally crying over this velvet cake. I’ll say it a million times: humanity needs cake like the earth needs the sun!” [Cash App transfer received: $52.00] [Apple Pay received: $88.00] The glorious chime of the register rang out continuously like an angelic choir. My smile grew so wide it threatened to split my face in half. I had no idea I was related to a heavy hitter. Lily ran a massive food influencer account with over two hundred thousand followers. My parents had absolutely no clue. As I counted the cash, I silently repented. Jenica, you terrible person. Look at this sweet angel of a sister, and you’re still secretly thirsting after her fiancé? You are absolute garbage! By noon, the crowd doubled. My hands were moving so fast while boxing pastries that they were practically a blur. Even though I was rushed off my feet, even though my arms were shaking from exhaustion, the feeling was absolutely euphoric. The joy of making my own money, the grounding reality of building something with my own two hands. It was a sensation I had never experienced in the gilded cage of the Collins estate. 11 By six PM, the rush finally died down. I was leaning over the counter, tallying up the day’s revenue, when the brass bell above the door chimed. “Sorry, we’re totally sold out for the day…” I looked up and the words died in my throat. William stood in the doorway, dressed in a sharp charcoal gray three piece suit. Behind him, parked in the fading evening light, his Maybach gleamed with the sinful glow of exorbitant wealth. Just looking at him standing there, I could practically hear the money whispering in the air. Damn. The man I had my eye on really was built differently. That aura was unmatched. He walked up to the counter, his dark eyes locking onto me. He looked genuinely surprised. “In all the years you lived at the estate, I’ve never seen you look as happy as you did today. I honestly thought you only opened a bakery because you had nowhere else to go.” I chuckled, happily stacking a pile of bills. “Mr. Sinclair, you just don’t get it. If everyone in the world is busy being a billionaire CEO or a high society socialite, who is going to bake all the soft, delicious cakes?” “Besides, someone in this world has to play the role of the ordinary person.” “No dramatic ups and downs, no cutthroat boardroom battles. Just quietly existing in the background, playing a small, happy part in the universe.” William listened quietly. After a long moment, his gaze swept over the completely empty pastry displays. His voice turned slightly hoarse. “On my way here, I saw someone walking down the street carrying one of your boxes. They looked incredibly happy.” He paused, lowering his voice. “I imagine it must taste wonderful.” “It’s a shame I was too late.” “I’m sorry. It seems like… I’m never able to show up by your side at the right time.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464458”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Before faking my death, I decided to take revenge on the arrogant rich kids at my private school. I borrowed ten thousand dollars from each of them. Seven years passed. Everything settled. They had all risen to the top, powerful enough to cover the sky with one hand. Some even had fiancées now. They probably didn’t even remember who I was. So I quietly returned to finish my final mission: The cannon-fodder villainess’s regretful, bitter, shadowy gaze. On the second day of following one of them, I was tied up on his bed. Just as I trembled in terror, he looked down at me with unfamiliar, arrogant eyes. “Don’t send me random little rats like this. Send her to my brother. Isn’t this his type? He’s been looking for girls like her for years.” 1 The man by the bed was talking on the phone, bored and careless. At the same time, his cold gaze swept over me. I wore an ordinary long-sleeved shirt and pants, with black-framed glasses on my nose. A painfully ordinary outfit. I had been quietly following him, watching him from the shadows. The system had just announced in my head: [The cannon-fodder villainess’s regretful, bitter, shadowy gaze: Target One complete.] Then I was dragged onto this soft bed. Reid Ashford cursed into the phone without mercy. “You sent this to my bed? A girl so plain she’d disappear in a crowd?” His face looked terrible as he reached out with long fingers, about to untie me. Then the person on the other end said something. Reid paused. His dark eyes narrowed and fixed on me. “What? She was following me?” He tapped the speaker button. A trembling voice came from the phone. “Yes, Mr. Ashford. I noticed this girl had been following you. I brought her here so you could decide what to do with her.” So Reid, who had untied me halfway, tied me back up again. After receiving my file, he scanned it briefly and tossed it aside. “Turns out we went to the same prep school.” “You… don’t know me?” I asked carefully. Reid looked like he had heard something absurd. He laughed, mocking and bright. “Are you someone important? Do I need to know you?” I froze. Seven years had passed. Maybe there had been plenty of pretty girls around him, so seeing my face did not jog his memory. But there was no way he could see my name, know we went to the same private school, and have no impression of me at all. Because Reid had been the cruelest one to me back then. He forced me to be his lackey, made me orbit around him. My breakfast would be thrown into the trash by him. Then he would make me call him “sir” and beg him to let me eat. Only then would he lazily feed me his own breakfast. “Like a little rat.” He would usually say it casually, then pinch my cheeks while they puffed from chewing. Reid hated me from the first time he saw me. If he was the reckless, dazzling young heir, then I was the invisible girl hiding in my own world, too quiet to speak. Until one day, I accidentally stepped on the watch he had dropped. I was so frightened I could barely stand. Without thinking, I knew it had to cost a fortune. He curved his lips coldly and crooked a finger at me. “Rooftop. Little rat.” That evening, he casually removed my black-framed glasses and threw them aside. Then he grabbed my hair. My heavy bangs were pulled back too. He paused. The cold disgust in his eyes was replaced by something else. He raised an eyebrow and swept his gaze over me with interest. “Didn’t expect that. You’re actually pretty. So why do you act like a rat? You don’t even dare look me in the eye.” I timidly stepped back. Secretly, I thought to myself that I hadn’t known either. But ever since the system appeared and told me I was the dark, timid cannon-fodder villainess in a melodramatic romance novel, I had accepted it. My insecure, gloomy existence was only there to contrast the male leads’ brilliance and the heroine’s bright confidence. Reid waited for my answer. I failed to squeeze out a single word. He impatiently pinched my face hard. Unexpectedly, he did not punish me or make me pay for the watch. He made me his follower instead. Running errands for him. Letting him tease me. Until I borrowed ten thousand dollars from him. Then secretly threw his backpack into a dirty ditch. Then faked my death. 2 Reid said calmly, “I had a car accident two years ago and forgot a lot of things. But…” He sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re my ex-girlfriend from before the amnesia.” “No, no, no…” I denied it quickly. Learning that he had lost his memory, I quietly breathed in relief and forced a smile. “Sorry. I won’t follow you again.” He looked down at me, and I could not tell whether he believed me. A moment later, just like years ago, he lazily removed my black-framed glasses and pinched my jaw, forcing me to lift my head. I still did not look at him. My lashes trembled lightly. “Although I hate rats,” Reid said with a half-smile, “my brother likes them.” “No!” I instantly struggled and looked up. Reid had lost his memory because of the accident, but his brother definitely had not. And I had seen his brother’s methods. “That’s not up to you,” Reid said coldly. 3 Reid brought me straight back to the Ashford estate. I struggled the entire way. But since he never untied me, my struggle was useless. Reid curved his lips and pressed down my restless legs. “What are you pretending for? You were the one following me. Unfortunately for you, I’m not interested in your type. My brother is, though. If you manage to hook him, your effort won’t have been wasted.” I stayed silent and ignored him. In my head, I asked the system, [What are my chances of escaping?] The system sounded disappointed in me. [You don’t want an opportunity handed to your face? How else will you complete the mission? You could follow Reid because he goes to racetracks and bars every day. Is Warren Ashford the same?] I suddenly understood. [Good point.] But I was still scared. After all, I still owed him money. The system patiently advised, [It’s only a little money. Warren is so busy, and you’re so ordinary. How could he possibly remember you?] I agreed. [True.] After the system comforted me, I calmed slightly. The system said, [Mm-hm. Keep going.] During the years I had faked my death, the system told me the plot had already deviated. The male leads never met the heroine, and the heroine had gone abroad to study and build her career. But my mission had not changed. Thank goodness. That reassured me. I was just waiting to complete the mission and collect the money. For the next few days, Reid was not around. He locked me in the enormous estate. Technically, it counted as imprisonment. But there was a butler, maids, and a chef. I ate, slept, slept, and ate. Until one morning a week later, countless staff poured into the mansion and began decorating. I leaned over the bedroom balcony and looked down. “Today is Warren Ashford’s birthday.” The system said, [If I remember correctly, before you faked your death, he made you prepare birthday gifts for him every year.] Meaning, how could I not remember his birthday? I said silently, “It wasn’t only him asking for birthday gifts. There were two others too. I didn’t have money…” The system said, [Didn’t they give you money?] I said seriously, “Once they gave it to me, it was mine. What did that have to do with their birthday gifts?” The system: […Oh.] 4 The estate was decorated magnificently. Champagne towers stood in several places, and the whole mansion was soaked in a grand, extravagant birthday atmosphere. That evening, many people in formalwear arrived. From the third floor, I could hear the lively noise below. Reid came back too. He threw a dress at me. A moon-white short dress. Not exactly flashy, more fresh and elegant. Except for the huge bow at the waist cutout. I shook my head. “I’m not wearing it.” Internally, I complained. Even with amnesia, Reid had not changed at all. Back in school, he had constantly tried to make me wear short skirts for him. Now too. Reid lifted his eyes. “Don’t tell me you plan to go down dressed like that.” What was wrong with my outfit? White T-shirts were simple. Black pants were casual. I whispered, “I could also not go down.” Reid laughed from anger. “Then why did I keep you here?” He dragged me to the balcony and lifted his chin toward the lively garden below. His tone was sarcastic. “Everyone else is wearing gowns. You want to be special? Though even if you wear the dress, you won’t be as pretty as those women.” I said, “It’s not like I asked to come.” Just then, noise rose downstairs. Several warm greetings followed. The main character had arrived. I saw the man stepping out of the car at the entrance immediately. He wore a crisp suit. A quiet, gentle girl held his arm. She looked timid, as if she had never seen a scene like this. Compared with seven years ago, when he had still carried some youthful coldness, Warren Ashford was now entirely mature, with the ease of someone in power and the ability to hide every emotion. Reid looked down and clicked his tongue. “My brother’s here. I’m going down.” “Change or don’t,” he said, pinching my face with a half-smile. “Maybe my brother likes them this plain.” I froze. Before I could process his meaning, he pushed the door open and left. He seemed certain I did not dare go downstairs. And did not dare run away. “Wait here nicely,” Reid said lazily. “Don’t look so miserable. If my brother likes you, you’ll get a lot of money. If he doesn’t, you’re free. I’ll give you some cash too. How’s that?” I frowned lightly. “But your brother clearly has a date tonight…” “Oh,” Reid said carelessly. “He changes them often.” Then the door closed. Listening to his footsteps fade, I stood there as the evening wind brushed past. While I was dazed, I noticed Warren downstairs turn his head slightly. His gaze seemed about to move toward me. I crouched down at lightning speed and slowly crawled back into the room. Over the past few days, I had thought a lot. Although the chance of Warren remembering me was indeed small, seven years ago, he had been a genius with a terrifying memory. And he held grudges. These untouchable heirs were not good people. As long as there was even the slightest possibility of being recognized, I could not gamble. Besides, Reid might recover his memory someday. Even more terrifying. Wasn’t it just a shadowy gaze? When the time came, I could apply to be a cleaner at Warren’s company, fully disguise myself, and mop floors every day. There would always be a chance to watch him from the shadows. 5 Once the party downstairs began and everyone was busy drinking, I quietly opened the door and slipped out. The next second, I ran into several well-dressed people in the hallway. They were chatting. “Is the lounge on the third floor?” I startled. They noticed me too. The girl in the center was the same one who had been holding Warren’s arm earlier. When she saw me, she paused. “You are…?” I pressed my lips together. “I’m… uh, the housekeeper’s daughter. Yes.” Someone immediately questioned, “Can a housekeeper’s daughter stay upstairs?” The girl seemed to realize something. The others did too. Their gazes toward me turned disgusted. “So you’re some servant’s daughter. Here to steal things, right? I’m going to tell Mr. Ashford.” Someone agreed, voice contemptuous. “Yeah. Look at her. Guilty as hell.” My eyes widened. “Wait.” The girl was firm and turned toward the stairs. “Today is Mr. Ashford’s birthday. I won’t let theft happen here.” “I was brought here by Reid Ashford!” I blurted in panic. Her steps stopped. Then she turned back suspiciously and scanned me again. “You? Brought by him? How is that possible?” The way she looked at me was completely different from the shy expression she had worn beside Warren. Just then, a careless voice sounded. “What’s going on here?” Everyone turned. Reid raised an eyebrow, looking slightly surprised by the scene. The girl immediately explained. “We came up to find the lounge and saw her sneaking around the hallway. I thought she was a thief and was going to tell Mr. Ashford. But she said you brought her here.” Seeing Reid, I breathed in relief. He could prove I was not a thief. But the air strangely fell silent. After a while, Reid pulled his lips coldly. “You said you saw her in the hallway?” The girl nodded quickly. “She looked very suspicious. Like she had just stolen something and was trying to run.” Me: “…” “Run?” Reid repeated with a fake smile. I suddenly had a bad feeling. Sure enough, his next words were cold. “She is a thief.” The girl’s eyes lit up at his confirmation. She glared at me again. “Not only a thief, but a liar too. I’m going to tell Mr. Ashford and let him deal with you.” Her little leather shoes tapped quickly as she ran downstairs. Her voice softened again. “Mr. Ashford…” I froze in place, my whole body cold. I looked at Reid in confusion. Reid leaned against the hallway wall with his arms crossed. His dark eyes fell on me, cold and superior. After a moment, steady footsteps sounded, drawing closer. The girl complained softly. “Mr. Ashford, luckily I was sharp enough to catch this person stealing upstairs…” “She even lied and said your brother brought her.” I lowered my eyes in despair. My heart pounded from nervousness, almost breaking through my chest. Then my vision went black. The world spun, and I fell sideways. In the last second before consciousness disappeared completely, I landed in a warm embrace.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464457”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My college roommate, the one who used to swear she would never marry, suddenly blew up our old dorm group chat. “I’m in love! He’s so handsome and so gentle.” “He transferred five figures to me on Valentine’s Day.” “I used to think being single was great. Now I finally know what it feels like to be spoiled. Try not to be too jealous.” “Celine, your family is better off than all of ours. Why are you still single? Maybe reflect on yourself a little. @Celine.” “Too proud. Nobody wants that. @Celine.” “Dinner’s on me tonight. I’ll introduce you to my boyfriend.” The words I’m winning practically slapped me through the screen. The other two roommates and I endured the discomfort and went anyway. The moment I saw his face, I nearly dropped my glass. Wasn’t this my freeloading ex-boyfriend? The man sat across from me, his eyes sticky and unpleasant as they glued themselves to my face. Monica noticed nothing. She pressed herself against his arm, her voice full of undisguised pride. “This is Noah Price. He was one year ahead of us. My boyfriend.” Then she turned to him. “These three were my college roommates. My best friends.” Lana curled her lip. I quietly kicked her under the table. Back then, during late-night dorm talks, Monica used to slap her bed and declare, “Men are nothing but speed bumps.” Now, seeing her shy little smile, it was better to let that sentence rot in our stomachs. I pretended to drink water and avoided Noah’s gaze. He had been one year ahead of us and vice president of the student council. Refined looks, gentle voice, always polite. When I joined the student council as a sophomore, he took special care of me. One thing led to another, and we started dating. But he insisted on keeping it secret. His reason was that we were both in the student council. If people found out, they would gossip and affect our work. At the time, I thought it made sense, so I agreed to a secret relationship. It took me a year to see the calculating face beneath that gentlemanly skin. Whenever we went out to eat, he disappeared at the bill. After I paid, he would hold my hand with guilt in his eyes. “Baby, I made you spend again. You know my family’s situation. Don’t worry. I’ll work hard and pay you back double someday.” I would smile and say, “I believe you.” On the third day of dating, he told me everything. Sick parents, no jobs, younger siblings to raise, tuition paid by loans. My family was well-off, and because I cared about his fragile pride, I never showed the slightest superiority. Whenever I had no classes, I accompanied him to part-time jobs. Gradually, he worked less and less. His demands grew more and more. He no longer saved money on food or daily expenses either. Once, he ordered me to buy him a pair of limited-edition sneakers worth eight thousand dollars. I refused. He gave me the cold shoulder for a whole month because of it. During that time, I got sick and had a fever. He did not even show his face. I was done serving him. I broke up, blocked him, and moved on. The next day, he cornered me and demanded to know what I meant. “You can’t read plain language?” He exhaled hard, pointed at my nose, and cursed. “Celine Hart, what’s so great about you? You were just born into a good family. Who are you showing off to? You want to break up? Don’t regret it.” Seeing him lose his composure only made me more certain I had done the right thing. A year and a half of feelings went down the drain. Later, Noah graduated and got a job assignment, disappearing completely from my life. Never in my dreams did I think our reunion would happen like this. Monica was still talking, smiling like she could barely contain herself. She said she added Noah through an alumni group and took the initiative to chat with him. She even confessed that she had secretly liked him back in college but had been too shy to say it. They had been dating for half a year. Noah used to be in Bayside, thousands of miles away, so even seeing each other once had been a luxury. Recently, Noah sent his resume to companies in Hartwell City. Yesterday, he received an offer, so he dragged his suitcase here in a rush. Monica leaned on his shoulder, face full of sweetness. “He didn’t even tell me he resigned. He said he wanted to surprise me. It made me so embarrassed.” From the corner of my eye, I saw that Noah’s face held no joy at all. Lana looked at me, then at Jade beside her, and clicked her tongue. “So which company in Hartwell hired you, Noah?” “Hartwell Group,” Noah said calmly, though his pride was hard to hide. “Hartwell? Isn’t that…” Lana turned to me. “Isn’t that where Celine interns?” My heart tightened. I nodded without speaking. Lana and I were closest. We often chatted privately, so she was the only one who knew I was interning at Hartwell Group. Monica said in surprise, “What a coincidence. Noah is applying as a sales supervisor. For my sake, make sure he takes good care of you at work.” Then she looked up at Noah. “Right, babe?” Noah looked at me and said coldly, “Of course.” I lifted my glass to hide my unease. They did not know that my internship at Hartwell Group was under the identity of the chairman’s daughter. The entire company would be mine someday. And Noah said he would take care of me? The dinner finally ended. Jade and Lana had come by taxi. They were interning in a neighboring city. A black Mercedes slowly stopped in front of the hotel, temporary license plate still attached. Monica got out from the passenger seat and took the initiative to call them a ride. Jade and Lana stared at the car for a few seconds, then looked at Monica in unison. Monica smiled shyly. “Oh, stop. Noah just picked it up yesterday. He said it’ll be easier to drive me to and from work. I told him not to buy it, but he wouldn’t listen.” After saying that, she glanced at me. I played along. “Nice car. Your boyfriend treats you so well.” She covered her mouth and laughed so hard she trembled. The driver’s window rolled halfway down. I saw Noah’s lips curve faintly. The rideshare arrived quickly, and we watched Jade and Lana leave. Monica looked at me, alone now, and asked with a smile where I lived. She said she and Noah could drive me. I frowned and waved her off. “No need. I checked. There’s a subway nearby. I’ll go myself. You two go ahead.” Monica shrugged. “All right, then. We’re leaving.” Noah silently rolled up the window. Monica climbed into the passenger seat with tiny quick steps. The car drove off. Once it disappeared from view, I made a call. Five seconds later, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up steadily in front of me. The driver stepped out and respectfully opened the door. “Miss Hart, please.” The car rolled over the marks left by the Mercedes and drove forward. When I got home, my father was in the study handling documents. I leaned against the door and asked, “Dad, the company hired a new sales supervisor. Why didn’t I hear about it?” Dad put down the file and smiled at me. “Your news travels fast. It was decided temporarily. I was going to tell you tonight.” “Why that Noah Price?” I asked directly. He took a sip of tea and set the cup down. “I saw his resume. His sales performance is outstanding, and the company happens to have an opening for a sales supervisor. Three-month probation first.” “So he hasn’t been officially hired yet?” My tone brightened. Dad narrowed his eyes, sensing something. “You know him?” “He was one year above me in college. We worked together in student council.” I answered casually. I had never told my parents a word about dating him in college. Since it ended badly, there was even less reason to mention it. Dad nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good, then. Since you know each other, you can ask him for advice in sales.” I curled my lip. “Ask him?” I turned toward my room, my voice lazy. “Let’s see if he survives probation first.” Noah Price, are you ready for your new job? The next morning, the moment I entered the company, whispers from female employees drifted out with the bitter smell of coffee. The gist was simple. A young, handsome male supervisor had arrived. Was he single? Did they have a chance? I also vaguely heard someone say, “I heard this new supervisor was personally recruited by Secretary Lewis. His background must not be simple.” I assumed it was just a normal personnel transfer and did not think too deeply. This was my third month as an intern, an important stage. Whether I could stay depended entirely on my supervisor’s review. My father often traveled for work and did not care about small things like this. Now that he knew Noah and I were acquainted, he was probably even more at ease. When I joined, I specifically told him not to pull strings. So no one at the company knew who I was. Worried I might struggle in the workplace, Dad told his secretary, Mr. Lewis, to quietly look after me. Uncle Lewis had watched me grow up. Every few days, he came by the department to take a look around, mainly to check on me in secret. I had just reached my desk and pulled out my chair when my coworker, Hannah, came over. “Celine, the supervisor wants you in his office.” I had no choice but to get up and drag myself over impatiently. The moment I entered, Noah stared at me with a half-smile that made goosebumps rise all over my skin. He asked me to sit across from him, then brought over a cup of coffee. I got straight to the point. “What do you want?” He was unhurried, lips curling. His gaze moved over me through his glasses. “We haven’t seen each other for two years. Can’t we catch up?” I rolled my eyes and stood to leave. “Supervisor Price, if it isn’t work-related, I’m leaving.” “Celine.” He suddenly called out. I turned back and met his smug expression. “You broke up with me so willfully back then. Now that I’m sitting in a supervisor’s seat, don’t you regret it?” “I was willful?” Those three words made my chest sour. How had I ever dated such trash? Looking at his self-righteous face, I sneered. “Did you wake up too fast this morning and leave your brain behind?” “The thing I regret most in my life is knowing you and wasting a year and a half while blind and stupid.” He smiled, his tone certain. “You hate me that much? That means I’m still in your heart.” I stepped forward and touched his forehead. “Is your brain broken?” He grabbed my hand. “Worried about me?” I laughed from anger at his logic, pulled my hand away with disgust, and gave him one piece of advice. “Date Monica properly. Fix your selfish, freeloading habits.” Embarrassment flashed across his face. He stiffened his neck. “Celine, you really haven’t changed. Monica is much better than you. Sweet, obedient, listens to me, and is willing to spend money on me. Unlike you…” I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth. “So all the money I spent on you was fed to a dog.” My eyes landed on his wrist. “If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve forgotten. Give me back the watch I bought you.” I reached for it. He dodged, shameless. “Who asks for a gift back after giving it?” My chest tightened. I waved him off. “You’re worse than a dog.” Back at my desk, I pressed a hand to my chest and adjusted my breathing, telling myself not to argue with animals. After calming down, I thought of one thing. Monica was flashy, loved showing off, spoke sharply, and could be two-faced. But at the end of the day, we had lived together for four years. We might not have had deep friendship, but we had been classmates and roommates. Knowing Noah had impure motives, I decided to try pulling her back. I carefully selected a few “dating advice for girls in love” posts and sent them to Monica. The first one was: Love is between two people. Both sides should give and understand each other. Girls must not foolishly give unconditionally. Over time, men will think it’s their due. I thought it might wake her up. I never expected the result that followed. That day made me so angry my lungs nearly burst. Noah kept calling me into his office. If it wasn’t to deliver documents, it was to pick them up. If not that, then to check spreadsheets. Every time, his first sentence was work-related. By the second, he had already twisted it into something personal. I warned him coldly, “Call me in again, and don’t blame me for being rude.” My ears finally got some peace. But my phone remained silent. I thought Monica was probably carefully digesting the advice I had sent. When work ended, I waited until I confirmed Noah had left, then slowly went downstairs. I truly did not want any more connection to him. The moment I stepped out of the elevator, a large hand grabbed my wrist from the side. I struggled free in panic and met Noah’s smiling face. I shouted and shook him off. “Are you insane?” He shrugged, expression mild. “Dinner together?” Looking at his fake-gentleman face, my appetite vanished. I did not want to say a single word and turned to leave. He refused to give up, chasing and tugging at me. Furious, I kicked him, but he rushed forward and locked me in his arms. His voice was sticky as syrup. “It’s just dinner. Is that so impossible?” I struggled desperately, but he held tighter. Then a shout came from ahead. “What are you doing?” Noah’s hands instantly loosened. I quickly broke free. Monica stormed up to me, her voice sharp. “So this is why you sent me those so-called warnings?” In this situation, I had no immediate defense. I glared hard at Noah, then asked Monica, “Since you saw it, what does that prove?” Monica froze. I pointed at Noah. “It proves he’s a bastard. Dumping this kind of scumbag in time is the smart choice.” My tone was sincere. Every word came from the heart. Noah, who had been silent, suddenly interrupted. “What warnings are you talking about?” Monica shoved my message in front of him. The bastard changed direction instantly and bit back. “Celine, I can’t believe you tried so hard to drive us apart. Monica was your roommate. Don’t you think this is too much?” My blood went cold. His ability to frame someone was masterful. With the evidence in front of me, I had no way to defend myself. Ignoring our four years as classmates, Monica grabbed my collar in a rage. “Celine Hart, how did I never realize you were this scheming? Shamelessly seducing my boyfriend?” I pulled her hand away hard, helpless and angry. “I’m trying to help you.” “Help me?” She cut me off and warned in a low voice. “Put away your cheap thoughts. If I catch you deliberately approaching Noah again, don’t blame me for what happens.” I lowered my head and sighed. Out of the corner of my eye, Noah’s expression was dark and unreadable as he stared straight at me. Monica was just like I had been two years ago. Blind and foolish. Maybe this was the easiest mistake for girls in love to make. What else could I say? Anything I said would be wrong. Some mistakes had to be experienced personally, had to hurt deep in the heart, before a person learned. But what she did next nearly cost me half my life. When I returned home in a daze, I ran into my parents carrying luggage toward the door. Mom reminded me gently, “Celine, Dad and I will be away on business for a few days. Take care of yourself.” Dad rubbed my hair. “If anything is difficult at work, ask Uncle Lewis. He’ll help you. We might be busy over the next few days.” Distracted, I nodded and told them to stay safe. After watching the car leave, I walked tiredly toward the second floor. I tossed and turned all night. The next day at the office, I saw Monica. Mr. Lewis introduced the new colleague with a smile, while Monica’s gaze pierced me like a needle. I was confused. How had she been working elsewhere yesterday and suddenly joined Hartwell Group today? After the morning meeting, Monica asserted ownership in the office. “Supervisor Price is my boyfriend. Please take care of us in the future, especially certain people. Don’t think that just because you’re pretty, you can have thoughts you shouldn’t.” Coworkers whispered. Their gazes toward me gained suspicion. I had no desire to argue. I returned to my desk and looked up just in time to see Noah pull Monica into his office. Soon, faint arguing came from inside. Ms. Grant, the team leader, handed me a document with an ordering tone. “You. Go get Supervisor Price’s signature.” I knew she was doing it on purpose. Senior employees bullying new ones was common. Relying on her seniority, she often made trouble for me, though never enough for me to catch her at work. For the bigger picture, I had endured it. As I walked toward the office, I heard her whisper to a coworker behind me. “I hate women who destroy other people’s relationships…” My steps paused, chest tight. Inside the office, Noah sat in his chair with an ugly expression. Monica stood nearby, jaw tight, eyes red. When she saw me, she clenched her teeth. I placed the document in front of Noah. “It needs your signature.” Noah irritably loosened his tie, picked up a pen, and signed. I was eager to leave and reached for the document, but my fingertips accidentally brushed his hand as he pulled back. Monica saw it at the worst possible angle. She rushed forward, snatched the document, and threw it to the floor. “Celine Hart, do you think I’m blind, or do you think I’m stupid?” I was angry and wronged. “It was accidental. I have no interest in Noah.” She grabbed the cup on the desk and splashed water straight into my face. Then she clamped my wrist, staring at me with mockery. “Celine, how did your face grow to look so cheap?” Scalding pain burst across my face. My eyes burned and stung so badly I could barely open them. I tried desperately to break free, but a woman going mad in love was like a wild vine, shockingly strong. My wrist was squeezed red. It hurt so much tears gathered. I turned and shouted at Noah. “Are you dead? Can you say something?” Noah’s lips moved slightly. Only then did the dog of a man slowly stand. “Monica, let go.” “You’re protecting her?” The force on my wrist tightened again. It felt like the bone was about to snap. The commotion was too loud and startled the coworkers outside. Hurried footsteps gathered toward the office door. I shouted for help. The next second, the door opened, and someone rushed in.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464456”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 “911, what is your emergency?” “My upstairs neighbors… someone is sawing through bone.” “Address, ma’am? We are dispatching units right now.” “Never mind.” “Excuse me?” “The sawing stopped. Now I hear a mop. A soaking wet mop, cleaning up blood.” “Ma’am! Please lock your doors, officers are on the way!” Click. The line went dead. Five minutes later, the cops kicked the upstairs door open. The married couple was sitting calmly at their dining table, gorging on a late night roast. A reciprocating saw rested on the balcony. They had just used it to cut through a frozen rack of venison. Jax wiped greasy barbecue sauce from the corner of his mouth and smirked at the officers. “Let me guess. The crazy bitch downstairs? Is this her eleventh time calling?” The cops packed up and left in sheer frustration. None of them noticed the ceiling of the apartment directly below them. Dozens of black acoustic stethoscopes were taped to the plaster like a cluster of dead insect eyes, absorbing every single vibration from above. Harper pulled off her studio headphones. She picked up a pen and crossed out a single line in her notebook. Test complete. The hunt begins. … The moment the cruisers pulled away, the footsteps upstairs turned vicious. Jax deliberately put on his heavy steel toed work boots. He paced back and forth directly over my bedroom. Every single thud felt like a nail being driven straight into my temples. Thump. Thump. Thump. Each muffled boom was a calculated message of pure mockery. Then came the shouting. The floorboards in this rotting walkup were paper thin. His voice was so crisp he might as well have been screaming right into my ear. “Fucking psycho! Next time you call the cops, I am going to bury you!” I huddled behind my front door. Peering through the peephole, I watched Jax’s face contorting in blind rage. He was kicking my door frame. Dust and chipped paint rained down from the ceiling. I shivered violently. Tears pooled in my eyes. I looked exactly like a terrified, helpless victim. Jax finally got tired of screaming. He spat a thick wad of phlegm onto my welcome mat and stomped back upstairs. From the stairwell, Roxy’s timid voice echoed. “Babe, just drop it. If she is actually schizophrenic…” Smack. A vicious slap cut her off instantly. “Shut your mouth! I don’t need you telling me what to do. Get inside!” A heavy door slammed shut. The stairwell fell back into dead silence. I slowly straightened my spine. I wiped the tears away. The pathetic terror on my face evaporated into thin air. The neurotic trembling stopped entirely. What replaced it was a cold, mechanical stillness. I turned around, walked into my bedroom, and pushed open the hidden door behind my wardrobe. Welcome to my fully enclosed, professional grade soundproof studio. The walls were lined with thick acoustic foam. It was so deathly quiet in here that I could hear my own blood pumping through my veins. On the monitor, a digital waveform was still spiking, mapping out the exact frequency of Jax’s kicks against my door. I slipped on my high end studio monitors. My finger gently nudged the slider on the mixing board. The audio from upstairs was amplified tenfold and pumped directly into my skull. I heard Jax’s heavy, animalistic panting. I heard Roxy’s muffled sobbing. I heard the harsh screech of a wooden chair dragging across linoleum. “Stop crying! One more squeak and I will stitch your mouth shut!” Jax’s roar clipped the audio, turning the waveform violently red. My face remained entirely blank. I stared at the screen, then picked up a massive watermelon I had kept on my desk. My right hand gripped a heavy steel claw hammer. I raised it high. I brought it down with everything I had. Squlech. The melon exploded. Thick red juice splattered all over my face and chest. The sound was heavy, wet, and sickeningly dense. It sounded exactly like a blunt object caving in a human skull. I clicked stop and saved the file. File name: Jax_Skull_V1.0 Looking at the flawless waveform on my screen, a slow smile crept onto my lips. Audio never lies. Only the people listening to it do. 2 Your anger is only hitting forty decibels, Jax. It is far too weak. Tonight, I am going to introduce you to absolute terror. Two in the morning. Dead quiet. I pulled out a custom built resonance speaker pole and pressed it firmly against the exact center of my bedroom ceiling. That specific spot was directly beneath Jax and Roxy’s mattress. This piece of gear operated on bone conduction technology. It forced sound waves straight through the floorboards, only vibrating the specific surface it made contact with. In layman’s terms, only the people lying on that specific mattress could hear the broadcast. I opened a folder on my desktop labeled Bedfellow. I double clicked an audio file. It was the sound of a man breathing heavily. I had run it through an EQ filter to make it sound intensely intimate. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel the hot breath hitting the back of your neck. Playback started. Upstairs, Jax rolled over. Through my headphones, I caught his groggy muttering. The noise had pulled him out of sleep. The broadcasted breathing continued. It was steady, deep, and completely out of sync with Jax’s own chest. It sounded exactly like a third man was lying right between him and his wife. Jax sat bolt upright. His breathing hitched. “Who is there?” He bellowed into the dark, followed immediately by the sharp click of a bedside lamp. I slammed the pause button. Complete silence blanketed the room above, broken only by Roxy’s groggy complaints. “What the hell is wrong with you? It is two in the morning.” “You didn’t hear that? Someone was just breathing right next to me!” “There is nobody here. You had a nightmare. Go to sleep.” Jax clicked off the lamp and laid back down. I waited five full minutes until his breathing leveled out again. This time, I layered in a new track. The distinct rustle of fabric. Swish. Swish. The unmistakable sound of a man pulling on his clothes, or slipping out of bed. Jax shot up like a coiled spring. He didn’t even bother with the light this time. He vaulted off the mattress and started tearing the room apart. Closet doors were ripped open. Hangers clattered. He swept underneath the bed and violently yanked the curtains back. “Come out! Get the fuck out here!” He roared around the bedroom like a trapped, rabid animal. Roxy was terrified. She started bawling. “Jax, you are losing your mind! It is just us in here! What guy?” “I heard him perfectly! Right next to my fucking pillow!” He tore the place apart until dawn and found absolutely nothing. Early the next morning, Jax stomped out of the building with heavy, dark bags under his eyes. I stood perfectly still behind my curtains, watching his truck speed out of the parking lot. The moment he was gone, I flipped the switch on my signal jammer. It was a transmitter specifically calibrated for the cheap surveillance mic Jax had recently installed in their living room. I knew he had cameras. The wiring on that budget junk was notoriously unshielded. Hit it with enough magnetic interference, and I could inject my own audio feed directly into his cloud storage. I stood in my kitchen downstairs, brewing a fresh pot of coffee. I tapped my fingernails against the countertop. Tap. Tap. Tap. Three rhythmic knocks. The universal signal for a secret lover. Immediately after, I broadcasted a synthesized sequence of sounds. A man unlocking the door. Heavy boots stepping inside. The door clicking shut. These frequencies traveled through the ventilation shafts, feeding perfectly into Jax’s living room mic. It took less than twenty minutes for his truck to come squealing back into the lot. Heavy boots thundered up the stairwell. Jax kicked his own front door open with a deafening crash. “Where is he! Bring him out right now!” Roxy had been watching daytime television. The explosive entrance made her scream in pure terror. “What is your problem! I am just watching a show!” “I heard him knock! I heard a guy walk into my house!” Jax charged into the bedroom, ripping the sheets off the mattress. He even lunged onto the balcony, looking over the edge to see if someone had jumped. The apartment was empty. The canned laughter from the reality show echoed through the living room, sounding incredibly mocking. “Where are you hiding him, Roxy? Tell me!” 3 Jax grabbed Roxy by the hair and dragged her into the center of the living room. “You cheating whore! You think you can play me?” Once the seed of doubt is planted, every single sound becomes undeniable proof. I sat in my studio downstairs, elegantly sipping my coffee. Through the headphones, Roxy’s agonizing screams mixed with the dull, meaty thuds of fists hitting flesh. It was a beautiful sound. Far more intoxicating than any symphony. Roxy eventually broke free and ran downstairs, sobbing hysterically. She pounded on my door with everything she had. Her voice was drenched in absolute despair. “Open up! Please open the door! Help me!” I took my time hiding my equipment. I plastered a look of sheer panic onto my face and cracked the door open. Roxy shoved her way inside. Her face was bruised purple and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. When she saw the bloodstained kitchen knife in my hand, she shrieked and nearly collapsed onto the floor. “Don’t worry. I was just slicing a watermelon.” I calmly pointed to the crushed fruit on my table. Red juice dripped steadily onto the floorboards. Still hyperventilating, Roxy clutched her chest, her eyes wide with terror. I set the knife down, grabbed my first aid kit, and began tending to her split lip. “Did he do this to you?” I asked, playing completely dumb. Roxy’s tears spilled over. “He lost his mind. He is convinced there is a man hiding in the apartment. He is going to kill me.” I let out a long, heavy sigh and pulled a digital voice recorder from my pocket. “Actually… I have been hearing things too.” Roxy’s head snapped up. She stared intensely at me. “Hearing what?” I pressed play. Jax’s gravelly, sinister voice hissed from the tiny speaker. “I am getting rid of that useless hag this week. Did you confirm the accidental death policy?” All the color drained from Roxy’s face. Her lips trembled so violently she couldn’t form a single word. The audio was entirely fabricated. I had spliced together clips of Jax swearing, layered over artificial static to make it sound like a covert phone call. But in her traumatized state, Roxy possessed zero critical thinking skills. She bought every word. “There is more,” I whispered, leaning in close. “Every single night, I hear him sharpening a blade. Scraping metal against stone. Over and over again. Right on your balcony.” Roxy’s pupils dilated in absolute horror. Her entire body began to shake. Right on cue, Jax’s thunderous roar echoed through the stairwell. “Get out here! I know you are down there!” Roxy grabbed my arm, her nails digging deep into my skin. “Hide me.” I pointed toward the reinforced wall of my studio. “Go in there. It is heavily soundproofed. He won’t find you.” Clinging to the offer like a lifeline, Roxy scrambled inside. Jax booted my door so hard the hinges groaned. I opened it, adopting the posture of a timid, terrified neighbor. “She… she isn’t here…” Jax shoved me aside and barged into my living room. He scanned the area like a predator. The studio door was perfectly concealed. It just looked like a blank wall. Finding nothing, he turned around and jammed a thick finger right in my face. “If I find out you are hiding her, I will put you in the ground right next to her!” He stormed out, cursing under his breath. I locked the door and let Roxy out of the panic room. “He is going to kill me. He is really going to kill me for the insurance money.” She collapsed onto my sofa, her eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. “In this building, the only people who don’t make a sound are dead.” I murmured the words softly while handing her a glass of water. Roxy took the glass. Her hands were shaking so badly water sloshed onto the rug. Looking at her terrified, vengeful eyes, a wave of icy satisfaction washed over me. I still remembered the perjury she committed years ago. I remembered every single lie she told. You stood there and said it was a tragic accident. You said my fiancé slipped and fell on his own. Now, it is your turn to feel what it is like to have nowhere left to run. 4 Before Roxy slipped out of my apartment, she wedged a miniature recording bug deep between my sofa cushions. She really thought I didn’t notice. Pulling an amateur stunt like that in my house was beyond laughable. I didn’t remove the bug. Instead, I leaned down and whispered a sentence that only the microphone would catch. “Phase two is a go. Jax needs to die tonight.” Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed Jax’s number. “Hey, is this Jax?” “Who the fuck is this?” His voice was exhausted and wired with rage. “It is Harper from downstairs. Your wife is still here.” Dead silence on the line for two seconds, followed by a volcanic scream. “I fucking knew it!” “Just listen to me,” I hissed, pouring fake panic into my tone. “She was just talking to someone. She said she is going to kill you. I don’t want any trouble, man. Just come get her.” Two minutes later, Jax was pounding on my door. I handed him the recording bug Roxy had hidden in my couch. Naturally, the audio file inside had already been completely swapped out. “She dropped this. I think you really need to hear it.” Jax snatched the device with furious, bloodshot eyes and hit play. Roxy’s hushed voice played back, masked by heavy electrical static I had mixed in to sound like a covert rendezvous. “We do it tonight. I bought the powder. I will slip it into his beer. He won’t even see it coming.” A deep male voice responded. “Don’t worry, babe. Once he is out of the picture, we grab the cash and vanish.” Jax’s face turned a violent shade of crimson. The veins in his neck looked ready to burst. He squeezed the little plastic recorder so hard his knuckles turned stark white. “Okay. Okay, let’s play.” He ground the words out through clenched teeth. He turned on his heel, radiating a murderous, suffocating aura. Upstairs, Roxy was waiting. She probably thought I had successfully pacified her husband. She was probably dreaming of her grand escape. She had no idea the grim reaper was already unlocking her front door. After sending Jax away, I rushed back into the studio to set the final stage. I dusted the floorboards with a fine layer of flour. I suspended dozens of hyper sensitive condenser microphones from the ceiling. I switched on a set of blinding strobe lights. Finally, I attached the heavy duty low frequency transducer to the ceiling. Frequency set to eighteen hertz. That is the exact frequency of infrasound. The human ear cannot hear it, but the sound waves physically vibrate the eyeballs. It triggers severe optical illusions, blurred vision, and a deep, primal sense of impending doom. I was going to dial their paranoia up to the absolute maximum. Within minutes, the crashing started upstairs. Furniture shattering. Vicious interrogations. Then came Roxy’s bloodcurdling screams, accompanied by the heavy, sickening thuds of a body hitting the floor. I grabbed my burner phone and dialed 911. “I need to report a massive narcotics stash. My upstairs neighbors are cooking meth and holding large quantities of drugs.” I didn’t say murder. I said drugs. Because I knew for a fact Jax had a massive stash hidden up there. It was his biggest vulnerability. His absolute Achilles heel. The SWAT team arrived with terrifying speed. Shouting, battering rams, heavy boots tearing through the apartment. Jax denied everything, of course. But he had no idea the cops were making a beeline straight for his secret floorboard compartment. Roxy had given me the exact location hours ago. Even though Jax had managed to flush the bulk of the product down the toilet when the sirens blared, the heavy chemical residue and glass pipes were impossible to hide. They dragged Jax out in handcuffs, taking him down to the precinct for a mandatory tox screen. Roxy had survived the night. She probably thought she had won the war. But I knew better. This was merely the eye of the hurricane. A hardened street thug like Jax would definitely find a loophole, or at least post bail before dawn. And the second he walked back into this building, it would be a fight to the death.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464455”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was born with severely hyper-reactive skin. Anything less than the absolute highest tier of luxury fabric sends me into a full-blown allergic shock. Ironically, this medical curse caught the eye of a haute couture label owner. She hired me as the company’s chief quality assurance director. My rule was simple. If I put on a gown and it felt uncomfortable, it had to be remade. Today, I rejected three sample dresses from our newest designer. She completely lost her mind. “Who are you to say my pieces cannot be sold!” “I have a master’s degree in design from Paris. You are a self-taught nobody. You have zero right to critique my work!” “Let me spell it out for you. My mother owns this company. You are making me uncomfortable now, so you can pack your desk and get out!” I gently rubbed my inflamed arms, feeling a massive headache coming on. I really debated whether or not I should tell her the truth. The lead investor keeping this company afloat was my oldest sister. The exclusive fabric supplier was my second sister. The A-list celebrity who originally put this obscure brand on the map was my third sister. The only reason Hollywood actresses flocked here for red carpet gowns was because their talent agency CEO was my fourth sister. The brand got featured annually in the world’s top fashion magazine because the editor-in-chief was my fifth sister. My sixth sister was the best internal medicine physician in the country. My seventh sister was a notoriously ruthless corporate lawyer. And they had both explicitly warned me that if I suffered one more allergic reaction at work, they would bury this company in medical reports and lawsuits. Before I took this job, all seven of my sisters sat me down. “Sloane, if this job makes you happy, we support you.” “But if anyone there makes you uncomfortable, we will make sure nobody in that building ever sleeps comfortably again.” … Camille snatched the rejected dresses off the rack and violently whipped them into my face. The sharp, acrid smell of cheap synthetic dye immediately suffocated me. I pinched my nose and stumbled backward. My voice was completely flat. “Your fabric choices are garbage and your tailoring is sloppy. The seams scrape my skin raw. According to our corporate standards, these do not pass.” “Your mother hired me. If you want me fired, she is in a meeting next door. Go complain to her.” It just so happened that Serena, my third sister, was visiting the office today to negotiate her endorsement contract for the upcoming season. My skin was burning, and I felt nauseous. I figured I would just hitch a ride home with her later. I turned to leave, but Camille lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Stop using my mother to threaten me! You play this manipulative little victim act, pretending you are allergic to everything. It might work on her, but it does not work on a professional like me!” “You think you are so delicate? You think my clothes are uncomfortable? Let’s see what actually happens when you wear them!” Camille practically pinned me against the desk, forcing the cheap gown over my head. I dodged left and right, but the allergic reaction hit me like a freight train. The rough, toxic fabric scraped aggressively against my bare shoulders. A wave of intense dizziness washed over me. My breathing grew dangerously shallow. A few of the other employees exchanged nervous glances. One of them finally spoke up in a quiet voice. “Camille, Sloane really does have a severe condition. She keeps EpiPens and antihistamines at her desk.” “A lot of our wealthiest clients have the exact same autoimmune issues. That is why she tests the garments. If a client has a reaction, we get sued.” Camille’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. “So you are telling me that an elite graduate from Paris is somehow inferior to an uneducated fraud?” She aggressively ripped the collar of my cotton undershirt, rubbing the fabric between her fingers before bursting into manic laughter. “I thought you could only wear top-tier luxury goods? Look at this basic cotton rag she is wearing. We could buy a truckload of this trash for the price of one of my gowns.” She had no idea. This basic cotton was organically grown on my second sister’s private pesticide-free estates. The air in the textile mill was hospital-grade filtered. And the so-called premium fabric Camille was bragging about? My family supplied it. She was just using the cheap, discarded offcuts we sold at a massive discount. The abrasive material kept scraping my skin. A massive cluster of angry red hives erupted across my neck. If I did not get my medication immediately, my throat would close and my organs would begin to fail. I desperately reached for my handbag, but Camille slammed her designer heel down on my fingers. “Trying to run now that your lie is exposed?” “Hold her down. I am going to make her wear my design and drag her into my mother’s office to beg for forgiveness!” The entire design floor went dead silent. The staff just stared at each other. When nobody moved, Camille’s voice escalated into a hysterical shriek. “Do you idiots not understand how this works! You ignore the boss’s daughter to protect a scam artist?” “Fine! The second my mother’s meeting is over, I am firing every single one of you! Let’s see if you ever work in the fashion industry again!” Intimidated by the threat, a junior designer named Brooke stepped forward. Her eyes were cold. “I will help you, Camille.” “She is always rejecting my patterns. Always complaining about my fabric choices. I have been sick of her face for months.” “Let’s make her nice and comfortable.” Brooke grabbed another heavy synthetic skirt and shoved it forcefully into my face. My stomach violently cramped. My wheezing grew louder. My entire body felt like it was submerged in boiling water. I dug my fingernails deep into my own palms, fighting to stay conscious. Just hold on. Every time Serena finishes her business meetings, she always comes to find me. Through the fog of my fading consciousness, I heard the familiar click of Serena’s heels approaching from the hallway. I forced my eyes open and screamed out for her. But my throat was so swollen that the sound came out as a pathetic, raspy croak. Serena paused outside the glass doors, furrowing her perfect brows, and looked toward the design department. Camille reacted instantly. She slapped a hand over my mouth. With Brooke’s help, they shoved me backward into a dark, suffocating storage closet. Camille quickly smoothed her skirt and walked out to greet my sister with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Oh, I am so sorry about the noise. Some of our interns lack basic manners. They get a little too excited when celebrities visit the office.” “You are even more stunning in person, Serena. Did the meeting go well?” Serena barely glanced at her. Her sharp eyes swept the room. She lowered her voice, completely ignoring the compliment. “Is it not working hours? Where is Sloane?” A flash of pure disgust crossed Camille’s face, but she masked it quickly. “What terrible timing. I actually sent her out to meet a client this morning.” “Did you need to speak with Sloane about the new collection? I am the head designer. You can just talk to me.” The lie was painfully obvious. Because of my medical condition, Eleanor and I had a strict agreement when I signed my contract. I never did field work, and I never met clients in person. Serena clearly knew this. She gave Camille a long, piercing stare before pulling out her phone. Three seconds later, a customized ringtone echoed through the room. But the phone was not in my pocket. It was sitting right on my desk. Camille let out a heavy breath, feigning amusement. “Sloane is so forgetful. She left for her meeting without her phone.” “But do not worry, our company driver and another associate are with her. She should be back soon.” “The new gowns are waiting in the fitting room. Please, follow me.” Serena stared at my glowing phone for a very long time. Her beautiful face grew dangerously dark. The atmosphere in the room turned suffocatingly tense. The employees who knew the truth began to sweat, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. Jenna, the girl who tried to help me earlier, opened her mouth to speak. But before she could, Eleanor walked in. “Sloane is out having afternoon tea with Mrs. Astor,” Eleanor lied smoothly. “You know how much Mrs. Astor trusts Sloane’s eye. She will be back shortly.” “Why don’t you view the garments with my assistant? I will notify you the second she returns.” I could tell Serena was on the verge of exploding, but she forcefully held it back. Years ago, when I was in high school, I was five minutes late meeting her at the gate. Serena practically tore the school apart looking for me. I felt so embarrassed that I made all my sisters swear a blood oath. They were never allowed to expose our family background or throw their weight around at my workplace. I never imagined that my desire to be independent would end up nearly killing me. Serena gave a tight, clipped nod and turned toward the hallway. Inside the pitch-black closet, the air was entirely depleted. I tried to regulate my frantic breathing. Gathering the absolute last ounce of my strength, I weakly pounded my fist against the wooden door. Thump. Thump. The faint sound echoed across the quiet office. Serena’s head snapped around instantly. “What was that?” Brooke panicked. She grabbed a can of heavy aerosol bug spray and started misting it aggressively near the closet baseboards. “We have a terrible rat problem this week! You should step into the VIP lounge so they do not ruin your designer heels.” The toxic chemical fumes seeped through the door cracks. My lungs completely seized. I let out a broken, wheezing cough. Serena’s eyes flared with absolute fury. “What kind of garbage establishment are you running! Do you not know that Sloane… that some of your employees are terrified of rats?” “I am calling my personal extermination team right now. They will tear these walls open if they have to.” “If this is not resolved, I am terminating my endorsement contract.” Brooke plastered on a fake, terrified smile, begging her to calm down. Serena pulled out her phone and marched down the corridor to make the call. My heart sank into my stomach. Black spots completely covered my vision. Camille was thrilled to see her leave and eagerly tried to follow her. Eleanor’s expression morphed into pure rage. She grabbed her daughter by the arm and yanked her back. “Where did you hide her? Is she in that closet?” Camille blinked, still trying to play dumb. “No! She is probably hiding in the bathroom to avoid working. Why are you blaming me?” Eleanor practically growled. “Camille, I am your mother! Do you really think you can lie to me?” “Do you have any idea how valuable Sloane is to this company!” Eleanor pushed past her and ripped the closet door open. I tumbled out onto the hardwood floor. Cool, fresh air rushed into my lungs, providing a tiny fraction of relief. I dragged my heavy body toward my desk, reaching for the emergency inhaler in my drawer with a violently trembling hand. I pressed the nozzle and inhaled. But instead of medicine, a foul, chemical taste coated my tongue. A blinding pain ripped through my chest. I coughed so hard I could not breathe. The metallic taste of blood filled the back of my throat. Camille stared down at me with cold, dead eyes. A wicked smirk crept onto her face. “See, Mom? I told you she was faking it.” “She claimed she would go into shock if she wore my clothes. Well, I dumped her medicine out and replaced it with tap water and perfume. Look at her, she is still breathing.” “Anyone can fake a panic attack. And those hives? Who knows what kind of disgusting disease she brought into our office.” “You pay this liar a fortune every month just so she can torture your real designers. Call the legal department and have her sued for fraud!” A flicker of hesitation crossed Eleanor’s eyes. Her tone softened slightly. “Stop acting like a spoiled brat! Whether her skills are real or not, you saw how Serena treats her!” “Even our exclusive fabric supplier asked about Sloane by name last week.” “They all share the same last name. They have to be related somehow. Do not ruin my business over a petty grudge.” Camille let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Mom, you are such a coward. We are the ones paying them.” “She is just an actress. If she refuses to sign, it is her loss. There are a million celebrities out there.” “And the supplier? Cut the contract. I can find you ten better textile factories by tomorrow.” “I looked at our financial reports. Their fees are bleeding us dry. This little bitch is definitely taking a secret kickback from them. That is why she keeps failing my designs!” That specific accusation hit Eleanor’s absolute weakest nerve. Her face darkened, and she fell completely silent. She had constantly complained to me about high production costs and low profit margins. What she did not know was that a megastar like Serena would never look twice at a boutique this small. The price Eleanor was paying was already a massive family discount. And those VIP clients who signed massive contracts with us? They were only buying the clothes because my second sister’s anti-allergy fabric was a patented marvel. No other company on earth had access to it. I gasped for air, forcing the words out of my bleeding throat. “Eleanor… you were the one… who begged me to work here.” Eleanor let out a cold sigh and crouched down next to me. “Sloane, I believe your allergies are real. It looks painful. I will have someone call you an ambulance.” A brief flicker of hope sparked in my chest, but the sudden, vicious glint in Eleanor’s eyes extinguished it instantly. “But Camille is right. You and your little supplier friends have been playing me for a fool all these years, taking a cut of my profits.” “Business is tough right now. Transfer all the kickbacks you stole into my account, and I will let this slide.” “Otherwise…” Eleanor cracked open a mini bottle of cheap liquor from the catering cart. She grabbed my jaw and poured it directly into my mouth. “An alcohol allergy is a terrible thing, is it not?” Out of all my triggers, alcohol caused the most lethal reaction. My internal organs felt like they were literally catching fire. Every single breath required a superhuman effort, yet no oxygen was reaching my brain. I could not form a single word. I just mouthed the words, Phone. Transfer. Eleanor eagerly placed my phone into my hand. But before I could unlock it, Camille’s heel came crashing down on my fingers again. “Mom, you are being an idiot! If you give her the phone, she is going to call the cops!” “I already had the legal department draft a document. Make her sign it.” They were so blinded by greed that they failed to notice my phone screen blinking with a faint, pulsing red light. It was an emergency dead-man switch my sisters had custom installed. The moment my biometric vitals dropped to critical levels, an SOS signal blanketed the city. I was hovering on the edge of total blackness. Camille pulled a termination and repayment contract out of her folder and slapped it against my face. “Mom, I hated her the second I walked into this office. The lawyers drew this up yesterday.” “I hired an independent auditor to review every single dollar this company has spent since she arrived. When they find the missing money, this contract legally binds her to pay us back triple the amount.” “Hey, stop playing dead. Pick up the pen and sign it.” My fingers twitched. I wanted to sign it immediately just to get them away from me. Jenna stepped forward, her voice shaking. “You cannot do this. Half our VIP clients have it written in their contracts that Sloane must personally inspect their garments.” “If Sloane leaves, we are in breach of contract. We will owe millions in damages, and we will never get another order.” Camille crossed her arms, smiling with supreme, unearned confidence. “What do you know? When the brand was new, sure, we needed a gimmick like her. But the company is established now. People buy our clothes because of the design, not because of some quality inspector.” “I studied in Paris. My name alone will bring in a flood of high-end clients.” She forcefully jammed a pen into my crushed, bleeding hand. I reflexively curled my fingers, sending a blinding spike of agony up my arm. Camille rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Still trying to stall? You really want to do this the hard way.” She snatched the bottle of liquor from her mother and poured the rest of the burning alcohol directly onto my open wounds. The pain was absolute torture. A silent scream died in my throat. The severe allergic reaction caused my entire face and neck to swell violently. Having lost all patience, Camille physically grabbed my hand and violently dragged it across the paper, forging my signature. “There. Done. You said your relative is a famous actress? Better go beg her for the money you owe us.” The pen slipped from my fingers. My vision went completely black. The voices around me sounded like they were underwater. Camille kicked me hard in the ribs. “Get her out of here. Mark, Jenna, pick her up and throw her down the back stairwell.” The exact second they reached for me, the heavy glass doors to the office completely shattered open.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464454”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was trapped in the mangled wreck of my car after a multi-car pile-up, bleeding profusely, my life hanging by a thread. My husband was the city’s top trauma surgeon, and the leader of this helicopter medical rescue team. As he rushed to my car with an emergency kit, his phone rang. After the call, he glanced at me, covered in blood, then turned to his intern, “You handle this. Iris, Samantha’s daughter, is having an asthma attack. I need to go now.” I desperately clutched at his pant leg, but he kicked me away. “Eleanor, it’s just a broken bone, you’re not dying! Don’t be so dramatic right now!” The helicopter roared away, taking with it my last hope of survival. When I next woke, I saw his Ins post: “My little princess’s asthma is finally calm. Superman Daddy is always here.” I pulled out the IV line from my hand and called my lawyer, “Activate that hidden equity agreement. I want Osman completely out of the medical field today.” The smell of gasoline, blood, and the screech of grinding metal. The multi-car pile-up on the interstate was a scene of utter devastation, like a glimpse into hell. I was pinned in the driver’s seat, the steering wheel pressed against my chest, and a jagged piece of rebar had pierced my right leg. Blood was gushing out in torrents. As my consciousness slowly faded, the roar of a helicopter filled the air above. The rescue team had arrived. I struggled to open my eyes, and amidst the fluorescent-clad rescuers, I immediately spotted that familiar figure. My husband, Osman. He was the chief of trauma surgery at Kind Heart Hospital and the absolute core of this emergency medical rescue. “Osman…” I weakly called out, tears mixing with blood, salty and bitter in my mouth. He held emergency equipment and strode purposefully towards my car. When he saw it was me inside, his steps abruptly halted, and his brow instantly furrowed. “Eleanor? What are you doing here?” He didn’t immediately come forward to check my injuries. Instead, his voice carried a hint of impatience. “Help me… I’m in so much pain…” I trembled, reaching out a bloody hand, trying to grab him. Just then, his phone rang in his pocket. In this race-against-time rescue, he actually stopped and answered the call. “Samantha, what’s wrong?” His previously tense, cold voice softened instantly upon answering the call. From the other end, a woman’s tearful voice was clearly audible, even amidst the chaos. “Osman, please come quickly! Iris is having another asthma attack, her face is turning purple, I’m so scared, I don’t know who else to call besides you…” Osman’s expression changed drastically, his eyes filled with anxiety. “Don’t panic, lay her flat. I’ll be right there!” He hung up and turned to leave. I mustered every last ounce of strength, desperately clinging to his pant leg. “Osman… are you crazy? I’m still bleeding… Where are you going?” He turned back, looking down at me with an gaze as cold as if I were a complete stranger. “Eleanor, can you stop being so dramatic right now? It’s just a leg injury, you’ll be fine!” “Samantha is alone with the child, and Iris is in critical condition. I have to go!” I widened my eyes in disbelief, looking at the rebar piercing my thigh and the pool of blood gathering on the seat cushion. “You call this ‘just a minor injury’? I’m your wife! I’m O-negative, and you’re the only one on site who can perform this emergency hemostasis!” “I said you’ll be fine, and you will be!” He roughly pulled my hand away, then turned and yelled at a terrified intern standing nearby. “Kalman, handle this patient. I have an urgent matter and need to use the helicopter!” “But Osman, she has an arterial injury, and I… I have no experience!” The intern’s face turned pale with fright. “Can’t you even apply pressure to stop bleeding? Useless!” Osman spat out the words and ran towards the helicopter without looking back. I watched as the helicopter stirred up a massive gust of wind, slowly ascending, carrying away my last hope of living. For his ex-girlfriend’s daughter’s asthma, he not only abandoned his dying wife but also unilaterally diverted the only medical rescue helicopter at the scene. Intense pain and blood loss made my vision swim. Just as I thought I was doomed to die there today, a strong pair of hands forcefully wrenched open the deformed car door. “Hold on, don’t fall asleep!” A man in a black outdoor jacket knelt beside me, deftly tearing open my pant leg and expertly applying pressure to my femoral artery. “I’m Douglas from State Hospital. I’m performing emergency hemostasis now. Deep breaths!” It was Douglas, the youngest cardiovascular and trauma prodigy at State Hospital. Before completely losing consciousness, I took a long, deep look in the direction the helicopter had disappeared. Osman, since you chose Samantha. Then it’s war between us.

When I woke again, my eyes were met with blinding white. The VIP room was eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of the cardiac monitor. “Ms. Julian, you’re awake.” Sitting on the sofa by the bed was my attorney and long-time friend, Gibbs. “How long have I been asleep?” My voice was hoarse as if I’d swallowed sand. “Three full days.” Gibbs poured a glass of warm water, moistening my lips with a cotton swab. “Dr. Douglas performed extreme hemostasis on you at the scene and personally brought you to State Hospital for surgery. You were literally snatched back from the jaws of death.” I lowered my gaze, looking at my right leg, heavily bandaged. “Where’s Osman?” Gibbs scoffed, handing me his tablet. “Your wonderful husband has been quite busy these past three days.” On the screen was Osman’s Ins post from half an hour ago. In the photo, he was dressed in casual clothes, holding Samantha’s daughter, feeding pigeons in the garden of a high-end private hospital. Samantha leaned against him, smiling coyly. The caption read: “My little princess’s asthma is finally calm. With Superman Daddy here, there’s nothing to fear. Peaceful times, grateful for you.” Below it were countless likes and compliments from his unwitting friends. “Osman is such a good man.” “What a happy family.” I looked at those words and suddenly felt a wave of nausea, even my chest ached faintly. Three years ago, Osman was just a struggling doctor whose talents went unrecognized. It was I, Eleanor Julian, who utilized all of the Julian family’s resources, even going against my family, to establish a special medical fund, paving his way to become the chief of trauma surgery at Kind Heart Hospital. I thought I could soften a stone-cold heart, but I never imagined he was just an ungrateful viper. The moment Samantha returned to the country, all his affection and responsibility shifted to her. “Not only that,” Gibbs scrolled the screen, bringing up another document. “Osman was commended by Kind Heart Hospital for his ‘decisive command’ at the car crash scene and ‘timely dispatch of a helicopter to transport a critically ill child.’ He’s now being nominated for this year’s ‘City’s Outstanding Young Doctor’ award.” I almost laughed aloud. Abandoning his severely injured wife and dozens of other casualties at the scene, misusing a public rescue helicopter to pick up a child having an asthma attack, and he’d managed to spin it into a glorious achievement? “What did Kind Heart Hospital say?” I asked coldly. “The entire hospital is covering for him.” Gibbs adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, a glint in his eyes. “After all, Osman is Kind Heart Hospital’s star. That intern, Kalman, has already been silenced. They even altered the rescue records, listing you as ‘minor injuries’.” “Good, truly excellent.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and when I opened them again, only bone-chilling coldness remained. “Gibbs, get all those things ready that I asked you to prepare before the crash.” “Also, contact Kind Heart Hospital’s board of directors and inform them that the Julian Group Foundation will be conducting an audit.” A hint of excitement curved Gibbs’s lips. “No problem, I’ve been waiting for you to say that. This kind of scumbag, if we don’t make him lose everything, it would be a disservice to all the blood you shed.” Just then, the hospital room door was forcefully pushed open. Jack, Osman’s assistant, poked his head in, carrying a cheap fruit basket. Seeing me awake, he visibly froze, then put on a fake smile. “Ms. Julian, you’re awake? Mr. Osman has been busy with an important consultation these past few days and couldn’t break away, so he specially asked me to come check on you.” I looked at him coldly, “An important consultation? Was it the one feeding pigeons in a private hospital garden?” Jack’s smile stiffened, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. “Ms. Julian, please don’t misunderstand, Mr. Osman he…” “Get out.” I couldn’t be bothered to listen to his nonsense. “Ms. Julian, actually, I have one more thing to do today.” Jack bravely stepped forward, pulling a document from his briefcase. “This is the hospital’s accident waiver. Mr. Osman said that since nothing major happened to you this time, to avoid affecting his award nomination, he hopes you can sign it to confirm his rescue deployment was reasonable.” I looked at the absurd waiver, my anger turning into a cold laugh. He not only wanted my life but also wanted me to step on my own blood and flesh to elevate his throne. “Nothing major happened?” I snatched the water cup from the bedside table and hurled it violently at Jack’s feet. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room. “Take this trash and go back and tell Osman. He wants my signature? Tell him to come beg me on his knees!”

Less than half an hour after Jack scrambled away, Osman’s call came through. I put it on speaker and started recording. “Eleanor, what the hell is wrong with you?” The moment the call connected, his usual arrogant, accusatory tone filled the room. “Jack went to visit you out of goodwill, why did you throw something?” “Do you know how exhausted I’ve been these past few days dealing with the aftermath of the crash? Can’t you be more sensible and stop being so hysterical!” Listening to his attempt to shift the blame, my heart was surprisingly calm. There’s no greater sorrow than a heart that has given up, that’s probably what it felt like. “You’re tired?” I sneered. “Tired from Samantha’s bed, or from feeding pigeons with her daughter?” A moment of silence on the other end, then his voice abruptly rose. “You’re spying on me? Eleanor, you’re an utterly unreasonable, jealous woman!” “Samantha just returned to the country, and Iris isn’t well. What’s wrong with me taking care of them as a friend?” “As a friend, you need to abandon your hemorrhaging wife and use a hospital rescue helicopter to pick them up?” “I told you, you weren’t going to die then!” Osman roared. “Look at you now, aren’t you perfectly fine, arguing with me?” “Iris is different; asthma can suffocate someone! As a doctor, is it wrong for me to judge who needs emergency care more?” His twisted logic was astonishing. “Osman, have you lost even your most basic common sense?” “A ruptured artery versus pediatric asthma, which one is immediately fatal? Did you spend ten years of medical school learning absolutely nothing?” “Don’t you dare lecture me!” He was stung and lashed out in anger. “I’m telling you, you will sign that waiver!” “This ‘Outstanding Young Doctor’ selection is crucial to me. If I win it, I’ll be smoothly promoted to Vice-Director.” “If you dare to sabotage me at this critical juncture, don’t blame me for disregarding our marriage!” I listened silently to his rant, my finger tapping lightly on the tablet. “What if I don’t sign?” “Don’t sign?” Osman sneered, “Eleanor, don’t forget, the room you’re in, the medication you’re taking, it’s all because of my connections!” “If I stopped your specialized care, do you think you’d recover this quickly? You’d better face reality; without me, you’re nothing!” “Alright, I understand.” I didn’t argue with him as usual, but calmly hung up the phone. Save the recording, package it, and send it to Gibbs. Without him, I’m nothing? He probably forgot who gave him everything he has now. In the afternoon, an uninvited guest arrived in my room: Samantha. She was wearing a designer gown, ten-centimeter heels, and exquisite makeup, walking in like a victor. She was also holding hands with her so-called “near-death” daughter, Iris. Iris held a lollipop, her face rosy, showing no trace of weakness from an asthma attack. “Oh, Eleanor, you really are awake?” Samantha took off her sunglasses, feigning surprise by covering her mouth, but her eyes shamelessly scrutinized my cast-clad leg. “Osman said you were seriously injured; I was so worried. So, as soon as Iris was discharged, I rushed to bring her to see you.” I leaned against the headboard, watching her poor act with cold eyes. “Seen enough? The door’s behind you. No need to escort you out.” Samantha didn’t get angry; she simply pulled up a chair and sat down. “Eleanor, don’t be so upset. I know Osman couldn’t tend to you that day because he was saving Iris, and you’re upset.” “But you have to be understanding of him, after all… Iris is very special to him.” She deliberately emphasized ‘very special,’ her eyes full of provocation. I sneered, “Oh really? How special? So special that he’d abandon his wife?” Samantha’s face froze, then she reverted to that smug expression. “Eleanor, women need to know how to compromise. You’re always so strong, of course Osman doesn’t like it.” “He was complaining to me yesterday, saying he felt so suffocated with you. Only with me does he feel like a needed man.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper only we could hear: “Actually, Osman has wanted to divorce you for a long time. He only stayed with you for your Julian family’s resources.” “Now he’s about to become Vice-Director. Do you think you still have any use for him?” I looked at her gloating face, feeling no anger, only pity. “Samantha, what kind of perfect man do you think you’ve found?” I picked up my phone, shaking the screen to show the active recording interface. “I’ve recorded every single word you just said. What do you think Osman would think if I sent this recording to him?” Samantha’s face instantly changed. She abruptly stood up, trying to snatch my phone. “You tricked me!” “Bang!” The door to the room was forcefully pushed open, and Douglas, in a white lab coat, walked in expressionlessly. He was followed by two security guards. “Ma’am, this is the Intensive Care Unit. Unauthorized personnel are not allowed. Security, please escort her out.” Seeing this, Samantha immediately put on a pathetic expression, tears welling up instantly. “Doctor, you’ve misunderstood, I’m here to visit my sister…” Douglas didn’t spare her a glance, simply uttered coldly, “Get her out.” The security guards immediately stepped forward, grabbing Samantha by each arm. “What are you doing! Let go of me! I’m Osman’s guest!” Samantha shrieked as she was dragged out, even losing one of her high heels. The room returned to quiet. Douglas walked to the bedside and flipped through my medical records. “Recovering well. But your taste is indeed questionable, to fall for such trash?” His tongue was as sharp as ever. I looked at him, earnestly saying, “Thank you, Dr. Douglas. Not just for saving my life.” Douglas closed the medical record, his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, looking down at me. “No need for thanks. I just don’t like people making a scene on my turf. Also…” He paused, a sharp glint flashing in his deep eyes. “Kind Heart Hospital has already sealed your medical records.” “They plan to portray you as a hysterical woman who obstructed rescue efforts to highlight Osman’s heroic image. What do you plan to do?” I curled my lips into a cold smile. “What to do?” “Since they’ve set the stage, I’ll be the one to put on the show for them.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “418056”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster