Author: Momo Chan

At my mother’s memorial service, our butler suddenly received undeniable proof of my fiancé’s infidelity. “Miss Scarlett, Mr. Noth’s mistress has given birth to a child!” Arthur Noth offered no explanation. His voice was flat. “Just focus on the service.” The next day, he didn’t attend the memorial. He only called. “I’ve been at the maternity clinic, taking care of her. I won’t be able to make it to the service.” When I didn’t reply, he sighed. “Don’t worry, she and I were just an accident. She doesn’t want to ruin the alliance between the Noth and Weixler families. She just wants to keep the child as a memento.” “But I am the father, and I can’t just abandon my child. After we’re married, I’ll stay at her place on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays to care for the baby, and come home on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.” My grip tightened, my eyes brimming with tears, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Arthur Noth, we’re through. The engagement is off.” He scoffed. “Your mother just passed. Don’t be dramatic.” I hung up without hesitation, then walked straight to his arch-rival. “Marry me, and we’ll bring down the Noth empire. Are you in?” 1. At the memorial service, Lucas Thorne’s eyes widened in surprise. His usually stern face flushed, and he stammered, “Our family tradition dictates a man only marries once. If you marry me, you’ll be mine for life.” Thinking it was a lost cause, I turned to leave, disappointed. He grabbed my hand firmly, his usually wild gaze now solemn. “Scarlett Weixler, be sure about this. There’s no turning back.” I offered a slight smile, nodding with conviction. “Good. No turning back.” Lucas had been my mother’s choice for my future husband, his character, family, and temperament all beyond reproach. If I hadn’t fallen for Arthur, I would have married him. The memorial arrangements were complex, and Lucas helped me with the condolences, dedicating more than half a month to the task. Arthur, during this time, didn’t call once. For those two weeks, every time I opened social media, I’d see intimate photos of him and Holly Lane. They’d be smiling brightly, holding the baby, forming a heart with their hands. The caption: “Our dearest, most cherished family.” I scoffed, a familiar pang of bitterness in my heart. The next second, his call came through. His voice sounded lazy. “The service is over, right? Want to come see the baby at the clinic?” I looked at the dark circles under my eyes in the rearview mirror and spoke flatly. “Arthur Noth, we’re already broken up.” Silence for a few seconds. Arthur mumbled an “Mm-hmm” to himself. “Good. Holly’s been a little depressed after giving birth. Seeing you might upset her.” The tears that had been building for weeks finally fell. My eyes reddened, and I laughed self-deprecatingly. “Arthur Noth, I said we’re broken up. Are you deaf?” He paused, then sneered. “Scarlett Weixler, you’ve been with me for five years, practically worn out. Who else would want you after me?” “I told you this child was just an accident. Why are you clinging to it?” I said nothing. A crashing sound came from his end. Arthur scoffed. “Fine, then. Break up. I’ll wait for you to come crawling back.” The call was abruptly cut off. I returned home to find the lock code changed. Arthur’s phone was unreachable, so I found a random hotel for the night. Waking up, my social media feed pushed a live stream from the maternity clinic. Holly Lane was interacting enthusiastically with viewers, Arthur seated beside her, watching her with doting affection. That gentle gaze, I’d once believed, belonged only to me. The stream had been going for nearly five hours when a fan’s comment scrolled across the screen: “So envious of the streamer, living in a clinic that costs $50,000 a month, with her husband by her side.” “So lucky.” “Sign me up for a husband like that.” Before inheriting the Noth Corporation, Arthur was a decorated military officer. He absolutely detested being in front of cameras. I’d begged him to take a photo with me, and he’d always refused with a cold face. Yet now, for Holly, he was making an exception, live-streaming to a national audience. Holly smiled as she replied to a fan: “He’s just so thoughtful~” Thoughtful? A searing pain twisted in my chest. I smiled, wiping away a tear from the corner of my eye. Arthur had never been a patient or thoughtful lover to me. I remembered one time, I asked him to accompany me to a movie. After much coaxing, he finally agreed. But in the end, he slept through an hour and a half of the two-hour film. When he woke, he rubbed his temples, irritably telling me, “Spending time with you is a waste of my time.” He could be caring, could spend an entire day with Holly. He just couldn’t be caring towards me. 2. Arthur must have recognized my social media ID, because he called me. “You have half an hour. Come to the clinic and collect your mother’s belongings.” By the time I arrived, they had ended the live stream. Holly beamed at me. “Scarlett, you came to see me!” I ignored her, walked up to Arthur, and held out my hand. “Give it to me.” His upward-curved lips flattened, and his face darkened. “Holly spoke to you. Are you mute?” I forced a smile, looking at Holly. “Congratulations, Miss Lane. You successfully seduced my fiancé and bore his child. What’s next, using the baby to secure your position?” Smash! Arthur slammed a teacup to the floor. “If you can’t speak properly, then shut up!” Holly suddenly clutched her stomach, crying out in pain, tears splashing to the ground. Arthur tensed instantly. “Holly, what’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” She bit her lip, her eyes red as she wept at me. “Scarlett, I didn’t want to ruin your relationship with Arthur, but the doctor said this might be my only chance to be a mother. Don’t worry, once I’ve recovered from childbirth, I’ll leave and stay far away, I promise I won’t cling to Arthur.” Then, she looked at the baby in the cradle. “Mommy is sorry, darling, that you were born without a daddy, but Mommy didn’t mean it, I hope you can forgive Mommy…” She sobbed, seemingly overwhelmed with pain and grief. Arthur’s gaze towards me was venomous, his entire demeanor chilling. “Are you happy now that you’ve made her cry?” I scoffed. “Such pathetic acting, and only you find it entertaining.” My attitude enraged Arthur. He ripped my mother’s heirloom pocket watch from his neck, lifted it high, and prepared to smash it. My pupils constricted. “No! Don’t!” He didn’t stop, throwing the watch forcefully across the room. The face shattered on the floor, splintering into pieces. I tripped over a sharp table corner, hitting my leg. A searing pain shot through me, making me gasp. Arthur sneered. “That’s what you get for being disrespectful.” “Get out, stop trying to play the victim here.” Holly cast me a feigned look of concern. “Scarlett, you should get up. Arthur saw you pretend to fall…” I gritted my teeth, glaring coldly at her. Arthur, seeing me dare to glare at Holly, yanked me up from the floor. “Holly has been experiencing engorgement and has many dirty clothes. Go wash them thoroughly before you leave. Remember, by hand.” I wrenched my arm free. “Why should I?” “Because you bullied Holly just now!” Arthur’s face was terrifyingly dark. “You owe her an apology!” I endured the piercing pain in my foot, straightening my back. “You wish!” Arthur’s eyes turned to ice. He shoved me into the bathroom. “Bang!” The door was locked from the outside. “Don’t even think about coming out until they’re spotless!” “Arthur Noth, this is kidnapping!” I rattled the doorknob, screaming, “Let me out!” The door slammed against my hands, making a deafening racket. Outside, there was only silence. My hands were burning, and my foot throbbed with excruciating pain. The room reeked of sour milk and vomit. I sank to the floor, exhausted. Through the door, I heard Holly’s insincere voice. “Arthur, if you treat Scarlett like this, won’t she be angry when she comes out?” Arthur scoffed softly. “What if she’s angry? I’ll just sweet-talk her. Besides, this is her fault. If she doesn’t learn to control her diva temper, who will tolerate her when she marries into the Noth family?” “The Noth family has a military background spanning generations. If it weren’t for the lack of heirs to the Noth Corporation, my mother wouldn’t have me marry a socialite heiress who’s good for nothing but spending money.” Holly feigned worry. “Arthur, if you talk about Scarlett like that, won’t she break up with you?” Silence fell over the room. After a long moment, Arthur’s cool voice, tinged with arrogance, came through. “She won’t.” “As a socialite with no inheritance rights, the Noth family is her best option. Besides, she loves me to death. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d die for me if I asked her to.” I clutched my chest, unable to believe I was hearing such words from Arthur Noth. 3. Our Weixler family had been merchants for generations, often targeted by unscrupulous individuals from the underworld. Six years ago, my mother and I were traveling abroad when she was taken hostage by thugs. They held a gun to her temple. I screamed until my throat was raw, certain I was about to lose my mother. At the critical moment, a whooshing sound cut through the air. The thug dropped dead instantly. Arthur Noth stood there, a gun in his hand, in military uniform, broad-shouldered, lean-waisted, and decisively saved my mother and me. I saw his true face in the military jeep – exquisite features, a prominent, well-formed nose. It was love at first sight. For that, I pursued him relentlessly for an entire year until he finally agreed to date me. For five years, I was completely devoted to him. My sincere devotion had earned me such heartless scorn. It was truly laughable. The bathroom door was pushed open. Arthur saw me crouched on the floor, pale-faced, and pulled me up impatiently. “I just asked you to wash some clothes. Why are you squatting here, trying to look pathetic?” A wave of nausea rose in my throat. I forced it down, suppressing the urge to vomit as I searched for my mother’s belongings. The pocket watch was utterly shattered, scattered into fragments. I picked up each piece. Arthur’s voice came from behind me: “Once Holly recovers from childbirth, we’ll get married. After the wedding, Holly will live with us.” Holly cast me a grateful look. “Scarlett, thank you for accepting me and the baby. I’ll be so grateful…” I didn’t have time for her drivel. I turned to Arthur. “No need. We won’t be living together. I’m taking my things. Give me the house code, and I’ll have a moving company collect my belongings.” Arthur rattled off a series of numbers, his gaze dismissive. “Such a production, only to move back in eventually.” Holly tugged at his sleeve, speaking timidly. “Arthur, the bedroom…” Arthur’s eyes flickered. He led Holly into my car. “I’ll come back with you, just to make sure you don’t take the wrong things.” Back home, I understood why Arthur was so insistent on returning with me. Scattered across the sofa were intimate adult toys. On the dining table, adult candles. The bedroom exuded a tempting, sensual aura, with handcuffs attached to both the headboard and footboard. In the past few days, I had been busy with my mother’s memorial and hadn’t spent much time at home. Arthur and Holly, however, had clearly indulged themselves fully. I walked into the walk-in closet to find jewelry strewn across the floor. Several designer handbags were also missing from the shelves. Holly, following behind me, smiled faintly, a smug expression on her face. “Scarlett, is anything missing?” She was eager to see me lose my temper. Unfortunately for her, I simply smiled. “A mistress is just a mistress. Always resorting to petty theft.” “You!” Holly’s face flushed with anger, a flash of malice in her eyes. She gasped, clutching her stomach, and sank to the floor. “Scarlett, I haven’t even recovered from childbirth yet, how…how could you hit me…?” Arthur stormed in and helped Holly up. He was furious, swinging his hand and delivering a stinging slap across my face. “Scarlett Weixler, you’ve been a spoiled princess for too long, acting so arrogant!” Arthur hadn’t held back. My face swelled immediately. My temples throbbed with anger, and I nearly lost control. “I didn’t hit her!” He didn’t believe me, yanking me out of the closet and throwing me to the floor. “Get out, go back to your Weixler family. Don’t come back until you’ve learned your lesson!” My mounting rage slowly turned to resentment. I got up, furious, and slapped Holly hard. “Smack!” Arthur, incandescent with fury, raised his hand to strike me. I gritted my teeth, meeting his gaze directly. “That’s the one I hit.” I turned and walked away, once again, foolishly, my eyes welling with tears. Stepping outside, rain poured down, drenching me. I curled up on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. After a long while, I noticed the rain had stopped on me. I looked up to see Lucas Thorne, who had arrived at some point, holding an umbrella, shielding me. He extended his hand to me, his voice laced with unconcealed tenderness. “Scarlett, I’m taking you home.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580630”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Learning that my wife was once again celebrating another man’s birthday, my heart sank, and I stood on the edge, contemplating taking my own life. The moment I looked up, countless messages materialized in the air. 【Don’t do it, big brother! In the future, that woman will be crawling back to you like a dog!】 【If you die now, you’ll miss the moment she realizes her mistake!】 【If you don’t believe it, in two minutes your wife will text you, telling you to prepare a bath for her return!】 Skeptical, I waited, and indeed, two minutes later, I received a text from my wife. I believed these messages were here to help me reclaim my marriage. So, when my wife returned, I followed their instructions, opening the door with a suggestive red mark on my neck. … The click of the lock sounded, I took a deep breath and opened the door. Evelyn Gardner was supporting a heavily intoxicated Brandon Thorne, her clothes smelling of smoke and alcohol. Her face, habitually cold, prepared to offer an explanation. “He drank too much, I…” “I have plans tonight.” I cut her off before she could speak, my tone soft and calm, interrupting her prepared excuse. She froze. I stepped aside, offering a gentle smile. “Get him settled. Take a shower and get some rest. Don’t worry about the house; the cleaning service will handle it tomorrow.” This string of kind, understanding words, devoid of anger or argument, left her completely stunned. Evelyn’s gaze finally shifted from her initial shock, landing on me. For the first time, she scrutinized me as if I were a stranger. My black shirt, unbuttoned, showcased my well-defined chest and abs, and… the glaring red mark on my neck. Her face instantly darkened. “What is that on your neck?!” Evelyn’s voice held a tremor I hadn’t heard in ages. I instinctively raised a hand to cover it, my eyes darting away, feigning a touch of panic. “Nothing, probably… a mosquito bite.” Without another glance at her icy face, I picked up my phone from the sofa, and, in my crocodile-leather shoes, walked directly past her. “Where are you going?!” Her voice, thick with suppressed anger, came from behind me. I didn’t look back, leaving her only with a dashing, confident silhouette. Once outside, the evening breeze sent a shiver through me. I leaned against the wall, my heart pounding. “Messages, did… did I do that right?” Instantly, a dense swarm of messages surrounded me again. 【Yes! Absolutely! You are my god, big brother!】 【Did you see the shock on that woman’s face? I’m ecstatic!】 【You used to be too desperate in love, spoiling her until she had no idea how good she had it! Making her think you’d never leave!】 【Remember, good men get a badge of honor, bad men get everything!】 I thought of Evelyn’s expression moments ago—both furious and incredulous—a rare sign of concern I hadn’t seen on her face in ages. I became even more convinced that the messages were right. 【Go all out! Big brother, go to a nightclub! Let her not find you!】 A nightclub? I’m such an introvert; I’ve never been to a place like that. But the messages felt like countless hands, pushing me forward. Deafening music, hazy, flashing lights, a swirling mass of bodies on the dance floor. I sat stiffly in a corner, holding a drink for ages without taking a sip. 【Don’t be scared, big brother! You’re so handsome, be confident!】 【Sway to the rhythm! Let yourself go!】 Inspired by the messages and the surrounding atmosphere, I, as if possessed, stepped onto the dance floor. My movements were stiff at first, but slowly, I immersed myself in the music, discovering for the first time how exhilarating dancing could be. When I’d had enough fun, I returned to my booth and finally picked up my silenced phone. The screen blared: Missed Calls (27) Evelyn Gardner. My wife, who had been distant for an entire year, had called me twenty-seven times?! After all, it used to be me desperately calling her, trying to find out where she was. 【Ignore her! Let her hang! Let her taste what it’s like not to be able to find someone!】 Obediently, I tucked my phone back into my pocket, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Wife, it’s not that I don’t want to answer; it’s that I need you… to fall in love with me again. You’ll understand, won’t you? I partied all night. The next morning, I returned home, exhausted and hungover. The living room light was on. Evelyn sat on the sofa, her eyes bloodshot, empty wine bottles strewn around her feet. Seeing me, she lunged forward, grabbing my wrist, her voice hoarse. “Where were you?!” I smelled the lingering scent of Brandon’s cigarette smoke on her. Seeing my silence, her face was filled with disbelief. “You weren’t like this before! You never stayed out all night!” I raised my eyes, blinking innocently. “What’s wrong with staying out all night?” “Evelyn, we’re both adults. Who doesn’t have their own life?” Evelyn was speechless, blocked by my words. In her bloodshot eyes, for the first time, appeared an unfamiliar unease and a hint of panic. “Isn’t that what you used to tell me?” I tilted my head, smiling purely and harmlessly. “You said you were busy, you said you had to entertain, you said… adults need their own space.” I returned her dismissive words, verbatim. In truth, my heart was pounding, my palms sweating with nerves. 【Hold steady! Big brother! Don’t break character! You are now the mighty Nicholas Thorne!】 【Yes! Fight magic with magic! So satisfying!】 The messages gave me endless confidence. Just then, the master bedroom door clicked open. Brandon Thorne emerged, wearing a black silk robe, rubbing his sleepy eyes, walking out languidly. That robe was my favorite one. In the past, this scene would have driven me to furious madness, leading to an immediate fight. 【The main man is here! High alert! Remember, whoever loses their temper first loses!】 I took a deep breath. Calm. Calmness was the greatest weapon. Brandon saw me, feigning surprise as he covered his mouth, saying in a sickly sweet, breathy voice, “Oh, Nicholas is back? I’m so sorry, I drank too much last night, and Evelyn was afraid I’d stain my clothes, so… she just found one of your pajamas for me. You don’t mind, do you?” Evelyn’s face was also extremely unnatural, and she awkwardly explained, “His clothes were dirty, I just grabbed something.” “Mind?” I chuckled, walking directly up to Brandon, my tone full of reproach, but directed at Evelyn. “How could you give Brandon my old, worn clothes to wear? That’s just so thoughtless.” I took Brandon’s hand, affectionately leading him toward the walk-in closet. Under their shocked gaze, I pulled out a brand new green pajama set from the cabinet and handed it to him. “This one is new, never worn. It suits your skin tone. Go put it on, it looks great.” 【What the hell! Top-tier infuriating behavior! This is killing him with kindness!】 【Brandon’s face has gone green; he thought he was provoking, but big brother just treated him like he was scavenging old clothes! And made him wear green clothes, I’m dying of laughter hahahahaha!】 I ignored their petrified expressions, turned back to my room, changed into a custom-tailored suit, and grabbed some documents, preparing to leave. Passing through the living room, I casually retrieved a crocodile-skin box from the safe in the entryway. “Where are you going?! What are you taking?!” Evelyn finally reacted, grabbing my wrist. I immediately slapped her hand away and opened the box. Inside lay a dazzling sapphire watch. “Oh, this.” I held it up, my tone intimate yet with a hint of chiding. “Remember that ‘collectible Patek Philippe watch’ you bought for eight million the year we got married? It’s… the set you wanted to give Brandon, but never did.” Evelyn’s pupils constricted sharply. I looked apologetically at Brandon. “Sorry, Brandon, it’s not that Nicholas is stingy and won’t give it to you. It’s just that Mr. Williams from the Quantum Group, who wants to partner with Gardner Enterprises, also likes sapphire dial watches. I’m meeting Mr. Williams for dinner today and plan to give this to him to discuss the project.” “Are you insane?!” Evelyn asked in disbelief, her voice trembling. “Have you forgotten how much you cherished this watch?! You wouldn’t even let me touch it back then!” “I’ve had a change of heart.” I looked at her earnestly, my eyes clear. “It’s just a watch. It’ll just collect dust sitting there. It needs to serve a greater purpose, doesn’t it?” I smiled, closed the box, and patted her shoulder. “You two rest well at home. I’m leaving.” With that, I walked out in my leather shoes, not looking back. The moment I got into the car and closed the door, I hugged the crocodile-skin box, my heart aching. After all, this had once been the most precious proof of my wife’s love for me. To give it away like this, to say I wasn’t reluctant was certainly a lie. 【Don’t be sad, big brother! Nothing ventured, nothing gained!】 【If that Quantum project goes through, it could bring at least half a billion in profit to Gardner Enterprises! Won’t it be great to sit back and collect your share as a shareholder?】 【Think bigger picture! You used a piece of jewelry she sullied, and in return gained career and wealth. More importantly, she’ll see you in a completely new light!】 I looked at the messages, took a deep breath, and nodded vigorously. The messages were right. I needed to think bigger. Sacrificing an external item for my career was worth it. When I gave the “sapphire watch” to Mr. Williams, the surprise in his eyes almost spilled over. As expected, the Quantum Group’s collaboration project with Gardner Enterprises was quickly finalized, and I was personally designated as the project liaison by Mr. Williams. In the days that followed, I was constantly busy. I plunged into the corporate world, which I had been away from for three years, absorbing everything like a sponge. Meetings, reports, social engagements… my schedule was packed. 【Go, big brother! Let her see how charming you are when you’re serious about your career!】 【Yes! Ignore her! Women will only slow down your money-making!】 The messages were my strongest support. I could feel Evelyn’s gaze constantly lingering on me, scrutinizing, and with a complex emotion I couldn’t decipher. But I had no time to respond. First, the messages forbade it. Second, I genuinely was very busy. On the night of the celebration banquet, as the project lead, I naturally had to attend with Evelyn. I had a top stylist do my hair, then changed into a custom-tailored white suit. When I stepped out, Evelyn, who was sitting nearby drinking bubble tea, clearly gasped the moment she saw me, her eyes filled with undisguised admiration. I secretly gloated, but my expression remained as cold as ice, merely asking, “Ready to go?” She blinked nervously a few times, then silently approached and linked her arm through mine. Just as we were about to leave, a sickly sweet voice chirped from nearby. “Evelyn, Nicholas, where are you going?” Brandon Thorne appeared from nowhere, holding a glass of dark purple juice. He stumbled, lunging straight for me! The cold liquid splattered all over my white suit, quickly spreading into a large, glaring stain. “Oh! I’m so sorry! So sorry, Nicholas!” Brandon immediately apologized in a panic, his eyes welling up with tears instantly. “I didn’t mean to… I slipped… What can we do? Tonight’s celebration is so important, and you don’t have clothes to wear. You can’t let Evelyn go alone, can you…” He apologized, yet every word was an insinuation. Evelyn was initially shocked, then looked at my ruined suit, a flicker of hesitation on her face. She was silent for a few seconds, then actually spoke. “How about… Nicholas, you go home and change. There’s no time left, I’ll take Brandon to the venue?” 【Don’t agree! Absolutely not!】 【That vile woman! She actually dared to say it! Can’t she still see through this idiot’s tricks?!】 【Big brother, if you listen to her, all your efforts will be wasted! She’ll immediately revert you back to that pathetic doormat she could summon and dismiss at will!】 I looked down at Evelyn’s hesitant yet somewhat entitled face, and without hesitation, swung my hand, delivering a sharp slap.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580629”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day I was scheduled to try on wedding dresses with my boyfriend of seven years, I rushed to the bridal shop, filled with excitement. Instead, I overheard a conversation between my boyfriend and his friend. “You got married to Serena yesterday, and today you’re bringing Summer to try on wedding dresses? Aren’t you afraid Summer will find out and confront you?” He looked helpless, his voice hoarse. “My brother died in a car accident. Serena is pregnant with his child. If I don’t step up and marry her, how will they, an orphan and her child, survive?” “I’ll spend my whole life making it up to Summer. Keep your mouth shut; she absolutely cannot know about this.” My heart turned to ash. I immediately made an appointment for an abortion at the hospital. If he couldn’t give me and our child a complete home, then it was better not to have the child at all. 1 Their conversation was like biting winter frost, instantly extinguishing all the joy I had felt after receiving my pregnancy test results. This morning, I had woken early to collect the report from the hospital, intending to personally deliver the good news to him at the bridal shop. I never imagined he would deliver such a crushing blow first. If he had already married someone else, why was he still going through with a wedding to me? Before I could find an answer, the bridal consultant approached. “Miss Sterling, Mr. Ashton’s specially custom-made gown for you has arrived. You can try it on now.” Hearing this, I was momentarily lost in thought. Liam Ashton valued this wedding more than anyone. Both the wedding ring and the gown were personally designed and overseen by him, according to my preferences. The inner band of the ring was even engraved with a few words: “Two hearts bound, love unfailing.” I felt for him, having to deal with wedding preparations after work, and suggested hiring a designer to handle everything. But he shook his head, refusing, saying, “Designing it myself shows more sincerity. I want you to think of me whenever you see these things.” Everyone who knew about it praised him, saying he would surely be an excellent husband and that I was lucky to have met him. But who knew, his love for me would become so ironic? I composed myself and walked towards the fitting room where the wedding dress hung. There, I saw a familiar figure. Serena Davies, hearing the assistant directing me, turned and smiled. “Summer, you’re finally here. Come see how beautiful your wedding dress is!” Her expression was perfectly natural as she spoke, the picture of a caring older sister. When Liam’s brother was alive, we had met for dinner a few times, and I had interacted quite a bit with Serena. I used to think of her as my future sister-in-law, sharing good things with her, all to foster a good relationship with my future sister-in-law. If I hadn’t just overheard Liam and his friend’s conversation, I never would have imagined she would become an insurmountable obstacle between Liam and me. Remembering their words, I instinctively glanced at her still-flat stomach, a surge of bitterness washing over me. No matter what happened, she had a harbor to rely on. My child and I, however, had none. My expression dimmed as I looked at the exquisitely beautiful wedding dress. “It truly is beautiful. Would you like to try it on?” A disbelieving voice followed. “Summer, what are you saying? This is your wedding dress; how can someone else try it on?” Liam approached, a hint of annoyance in his voice, his eyes filled with disapproval. My expression remained unchanged, perfectly calm. “What’s the harm? I heard Serena didn’t wear a wedding dress when she married your brother. Trying it on now could fulfill her past regret.” Their wedding was rushed; they just got their license and didn’t have a ceremony. Now, Liam had given her the title of wife. So, I would help her fulfill the regret of not having a wedding. 2 Serena was visibly moved by my words. After all, no woman had ever not fantasized about being a beautiful bride. Perhaps Liam also felt my words were fitting, his expression softening slightly, and he said no more. Seeing his mood lighten, Serena’s eyes flickered with hesitation, and she tentatively asked, “Can I really try it on?” I nodded, and an attendant helped her into the gown. Liam had already donned his groom’s suit. Seeing Serena go to try on the dress, he thought about changing out of his suit. But I reached out and stopped him. “Serena is pregnant; doing anything is inconvenient for her. If you leave, what if something happens to her?” Hearing this, he abandoned the idea and quietly stood by my side, waiting. A hint of worry, however, flickered in his eyes. Catching his shift in emotion, a mocking smile touched my lips. Before long, Serena emerged, guided by a staff member. She wasn’t visibly showing yet, and her figure was similar to mine; the wedding dress fit her perfectly. A barely concealed delight on Serena’s face, she feigned modesty and asked, “Liam, do I look nice in this?” Hearing her, Liam, whose gaze had been fixed on her, snapped back to attention and softly hummed. The next second, another staff member walked over. Seeing this, they exclaimed, “The wedding dress looks truly beautiful on you, you really are the most perfectly matched bride and groom I’ve ever seen!” The words hung in the air, and everyone present’s expressions shifted. Serena glanced awkwardly at Liam, then, forcing a smile, began to explain, “No, you misunderstand…” Before she could finish, I clapped my hands, genuinely marveling, “You truly look perfect, Serena! This wedding dress is simply made for you!” So beautiful, how could everyone not appreciate it? As I spoke, Liam looked at me with a hint of disbelief in his eyes. After all, I had always been very particular about others touching my belongings, especially a wedding dress of such significance. And now, not only had I given her the right to try it on, but I was also praising her without reservation. “Summer, you…” I blinked, looking at him. “Alright, I was just making conversation. I suddenly remembered I have some unfinished business at work. I need to rush back to the office now, so I won’t bother you two.” With that, I walked directly towards the bridal shop entrance. Liam, seeing this, tried to follow. But Serena held him back. As I reached the door and looked back inside, I saw Liam supporting her, walking towards the fitting room. His support was careful, his gaze fixed on her. It was as if with her there, he had no room in his eyes for anyone else. At that moment, I felt a flicker of uncertainty. Was he truly marrying her out of this so-called responsibility? Or did he genuinely love her? I couldn’t get an answer, nor did I want to humiliate myself further. The next day, I arrived at the hospital as scheduled for my pre-operative check-up. When the doctor asked about the child’s father, I said, “He’s busy with work; he doesn’t have time to accompany me.” When I woke up that morning, I thought about telling him. But I called him several times, and not once did he pick up. After the surgery, my face was drained of color, and I weakly supported myself against the wall, walking out of the hospital. As I reached the hospital lobby, I saw Liam, accompanying Serena for her prenatal check-up. Both were startled when they saw me. Liam’s eyes flickered with surprise, and he asked, confused, “Are you not feeling well, Summer? Why are you at the hospital alone?” 3 Before I could speak, Serena interjected, “Summer, don’t take your health for granted just because you’re young. No matter how busy you are with work, you must take care of yourself. Don’t make Liam worry about you.” Her tone was earnest, yet I could detect a subtle aloofness in her words. I pursed my lips, hummed, and said, “I’m done with my check-up. I’ll get my medicine and leave. You two go for your prenatal check-up.” Liam’s eyes were filled with concern. He was about to walk towards me, but Serena pulled him back. “Liam, it’s almost our turn. Let’s go now.” With that, she feigned discomfort, rubbing her stomach. “I don’t know if I’ve been worrying too much lately, but my stomach feels a little uncomfortable. I hope it doesn’t affect the baby.” She emphasized the word “baby,” and the worry in Liam’s eyes dissipated. He said with an apologetic expression, “Summer, you go home first. I’ll come find you after I accompany Serena for her check-up.” In the past, when his brother was still alive, he always referred to Serena respectfully as ‘sister-in-law.’ Now, he called her so intimately. Watching them, a family of three, I clearly realized that I had become the true outsider between them. The man who once said he would love me for life no longer had me in his heart. Remembering how he used to prioritize me no matter what happened, my eyes welled up with bitterness, and I choked out, “Okay, you two go.” On the way home, I gazed at the familiar scenery flashing past the car window, and images of our past together flashed through my mind. Liam and I had known each other since high school. Back then, he was my deskmate. He was a quiet bookworm, while I was lively and active. My parents were busy with work, afraid I couldn’t take care of myself, so they made me live in the dorms. I hated the cafeteria breakfast, so I always pestered him to bring me breakfast from outside. He was reluctant, yet always indulged me. And this went on for three years. After high school, we, with unspoken understanding, chose the same university. As old classmates of three years, in an unfamiliar environment, I always sought comfort in him. I was used to coming to him with any problem, and he tirelessly helped me solve them. Many times my mom would say I shouldn’t bother others like that. I didn’t care and relayed her words to Liam. At that time, he put down his pen, saying nonchalantly, “Do you really think I’m just some soft-hearted guy? Summer, if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t bother with you.” His affection for me was always apparent; I knew that from early on. So I uninhibitedly enjoyed his kindness. After we got together, his love for me became even more undisguised. As long as he was there, I could always be carefree. My mom knew of his devotion to me and always teased me, saying the hardest thing I’d ever experienced in life was going to work. But now I think she was wrong. The hardest thing I’d ever experienced wasn’t going to work. It was that the man I loved married someone else. And I was the last to know. Remembering the past, my eyes were red from crying. The driver, seeing this, handed me a tissue and advised, “Young lady, there’s no obstacle in this world you can’t overcome. Look forward; good fortune awaits you.” I took the tissue, choked out a thank you. After getting out of the car and paying, I was about to chat with a friend when I inadvertently clicked into my social media feed. There, I saw Serena’s new post from five minutes ago. She had posted an ultrasound image and a photo of Liam looking down at the scan report, with the caption: “Baby, hurry up and come out. Daddy and Mommy can’t wait to see you.” Scrolling down, the first comment was from Liam’s mother. She wrote: “Grandma can’t wait either. I’m so excited to see my first grandchild!” 4 The comment section was filled exclusively with Liam’s family. From their comments, it was clear they all knew about Liam marrying Serena. Remembering my visit to his family’s home a few days ago, and how kind they were to me, I found it incredibly ironic. I couldn’t help but wonder if, when I discussed our wedding at their house, they were all secretly laughing at me. My own boyfriend had married someone else, and I was still eagerly anticipating a fraudulent wedding. I wiped away the tears from my eyes and returned home. Before Liam and I set our wedding date, his family had already given me the customary “five metals” and dowry. I returned home and packed all the items they had sent into cardboard boxes. On the day of the wedding, I would return everything they had given me. From then on, I would have no further ties to the Ashtons. After the abortion, my body was very weak, so I took a few days off to rest at home. One day, as I was dozing, I vaguely felt someone approach. When I opened my eyes, I saw a familiar face. Liam gently touched my cold hands, his face anxious. “Summer, are you not feeling well? Should I take you to the hospital for a check-up?” If it were before, I would have whined and thrown myself into his arms, seeking warmth. But now, I pulled my hand from his, hid it under the covers, and mumbled, “It’s just a small cold, no need to go to the hospital.” Liam didn’t notice my resistance, shaking his head helplessly. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a cold? We’re getting married; why be so polite with me?” Hearing the word “married,” my groggy mind gradually cleared. Married? Yes, he was indeed married. I glanced at the cardboard boxes in the corner and quietly said, “Yes, we’re getting married. You can take your things back today.” We didn’t live together, but he occasionally stayed here, so he had many personal belongings in the house. The day I returned from the hospital, I had packed all of them. Liam didn’t notice anything amiss, a smile on his face. “Okay, we’ll be moving to our new home after the wedding anyway.” I didn’t reply to his statement. That evening, Liam made me a bowl of warm century egg and lean pork congee, then prepared to leave with his things. Watching his departing back, I softly said, “Don’t come again for a while. I have a cold, and I don’t want to infect you. You just stay home and prepare to be the handsomest groom.” He was deeply helpless by my words but complied. For the next few days, he didn’t come over but still sent me messages from time to time as usual. I always gave vague replies. Time flew by, and soon it was the wedding day. I didn’t wear the wedding dress Liam had personally designed, nor did I rush to the future I had once fantasized about. Instead, I bought a high-speed train ticket to Yunnan for a trip. The moment before boarding the train, someone from the hotel called me, asking when I would arrive. I immediately sent her Serena’s photo and told her, “This is the real bride. Before, I was just helping her with a rehearsal. Find her, help her change, and do her makeup.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580628”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband, Mark, said that to ensure my contributions were never taken for granted, he was implementing a family KPI system. He quantified every household chore into a point system. If I did well, I earned points. If I fell short, points were deducted. For three years, I worked diligently, accumulating 200,000 points. On our wedding anniversary, I saw a necklace I loved and asked to redeem some of my points for it. Mark slammed his chopsticks on the table, his face contorted with anger. He called me vain and wasteful. I tried to reason with him. “But you promised they could be cashed in!” He let out a cold, contemptuous laugh. “The points are a reward for being an adequate wife, not an ATM for your vanity!” Just then, his phone rang. It was his childhood sweetheart. His tone shifted, becoming a gentle murmur I had never heard him use with me. “Zoe, don’t cry. So what if the project failed? I ordered you a new car tomorrow, three hundred thousand dollars. Think of it as a reward for having the courage to try.” I stood frozen, the words dying in my throat. The next day, I filed for divorce on the grounds of emotional abuse and psychological control. I also demanded he pay me for three years of labor, corresponding to my 200,000 points, at the standard market rate for domestic services. 1. A bitter smile touched my lips. Mark glanced at me, his brow furrowed. “What are you laughing at?” “My two hundred thousand points can’t get me a three-thousand-dollar necklace, but a few of her tears can get her a three-hundred-thousand-dollar car. Mark, what exactly are your rules?” He ended the call and steepled his fingers, assuming the calm, rational, and unassailable posture he used in court. “Nina, I thought you were a sensible person,” he began, his voice devoid of emotion. “Zoe’s situation is different. She’s like a sister to me, someone I’ve watched grow up. Her career took a hit; she needs support.” He shifted his gaze to me, as if I were a line item on a balance sheet. “Your KPI point growth for the last quarter decreased by two-point-one percent compared to the previous one. Your household efficiency needs improvement. Under these circumstances, purchasing a three-thousand-dollar necklace is a classic impulse buy. It’s irrational. And it’s vain.” The KPI he spoke of was the system he had designed for me three years ago. Cleaning the house: 10 points. Cooking a four-course dinner with soup: 8 points. Hand-washing one of his expensive shirts: 5 points. For three years, I had performed these tasks day in and day out, meticulously tracking my score. He had called it a quantification of love and dedication, a promise that no effort would ever be overlooked. But looking at his cold, impassive face now, the whole thing felt like a grotesque farce. My love, my dedication—in his eyes, it was just a string of data that could be dismissed at his whim. He stood up and walked to the entryway to change his shoes. “Zoe’s not in a good place. I’ll be staying with her for a few days.” “Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. You said you’d be with me.” “I’ll try my best.” My heart went cold. Last year on our anniversary, he’d said he’d “try his best” to come home. He ended up spending the entire day with Zoe because she’d sprained her ankle. On my birthday, he’d said he’d “try his best” to be there. He ended up at Zoe’s promotion party. The day I had surgery for an ectopic pregnancy, he’d said he’d “try his best” to make it. A single phone call from Zoe about a breakup was all it took for him to leave me alone on the operating table. When Zoe was involved, anything concerning me became an optional task, something to be handled with a half-hearted “try.” I had confronted him about it once, screaming and crying. He had just rubbed his temples, his face weary, saying he had a duty to look after her for the sake of their families’ long-standing friendship. Even his mother had called to subtly warn me not to be so petty. The door clicked shut, sealing me in my world, him in his. I looked at the cold, untouched dishes on the table and laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. 2. I walked into the study, my fingers tracing the spines of the thick, logbook-like journals on the shelf. Each one was embossed with gold lettering: The Miller Household: Annual Operations Report. Mark’s masterpiece. I opened the first volume. On the flyleaf, in his bold, confident script, were the words: To my Nina: Love is something you do, not something you say. I promise you, every ounce of your effort will be recorded and cherished, never in vain. The date was the first day of our marriage. “Nina,” he had said, “traditional marriage is too vague, too full of emotional arguments. We’re a modern couple. We need a more scientific, more efficient way to run our home.” “This KPI assessment will be the bedrock of our marriage. It will translate all your labor into tangible value. I guarantee you can redeem your points for anything you want, anytime.” Back then, I was captivated by the future he painted. I thought this was his way of loving me—meticulous, serious, unique. So I began to document my every chore with the dedication of a research scientist. The densely packed pages were a record of my youth, quantified. I thought I was accumulating proof of our love. It turns out I was just filling out an unpaid labor contract. I opened my phone and scrolled through my chat history with Mark. The last message was from three days ago, a reminder from me to pay the homeowners’ association fee. His reply was a cold, one-word “OK.” Scrolling up, it was an endless stream of my detailed reports and his brief, directive responses. And his chat with Zoe? I had accidentally seen it on his computer once. He replied thoughtfully to every silly photo of a cat or dog she sent. He patiently played along with every one of her bad jokes. When she complained about work being hard, he would transfer her a huge sum of money without a second thought. His warmth, his patience, his generosity—they all existed. They just weren’t for me. The ringing of my phone startled me. It was Mark’s assistant. “Mrs. Miller, do you know where Mark is? There’s an urgent case at the firm, and his phone is going straight to voicemail.” Whenever he was with Zoe, Mark’s phone was on silent. Worried it was something important, I grabbed my car keys. “I’ll go find him. Don’t worry.” I had just parked when I saw them. Mark, Zoe, and his best friend, Leo, were walking out of a high-end restaurant, laughing. Zoe was clinging to Mark’s arm affectionately. “Zoe, you’ve got some serious pull,” Leo joked. “Getting our star lawyer to ditch his own wedding anniversary for you.” Zoe giggled, practically draping herself over Mark. “What’s Nina? She’s just a free maid. It was my idea, you know. I told him to set up that stupid KPI thing. And she actually fell for it, slaving away to earn points. She’s such an idiot.” Leo roared with laughter. “An idiot is right. Who else would marry him with no dowry, not even a proper wedding?” Their words were like poisoned needles, stabbing into my heart. Just as I was about to storm out, Leo asked Mark, “Seriously, man. What did you ever see in her?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer. Mark’s voice cut through the frigid air, each word a shard of ice piercing my soul. “Obedient. Free.” I stood frozen, a dull, aching pain spreading from my chest. Zoe, clearly delighted with his answer, pressed even closer. “Mark, if I hadn’t gone abroad in a huff back then, you wouldn’t have married her, would you?” Mark was silent for a moment. He turned to look at her, his eyes filled with a softness I had never seen. “Zoe, you deserve to be free. To have your own dreams and a career. I didn’t want you to be trapped in a home by me.” A roar filled my ears. The last thread of my sanity snapped. Three years ago, I had just received a translation offer from a major corporation. My future was bright. Mark proposed. He said he needed a stable home and hoped I would quit my demanding job for him. 3. I had hesitated, unwilling to give up my career. He held my hand, his eyes sincere. “I can’t do this without you,” he’d said. His profession required a supportive partner at home. But he didn’t want me to be an undervalued housewife. “This KPI assessment, it will make all your labor tangible. I promise, every contribution you make will be seen, will be quantified.” He had used a set of seemingly fair rules to put a price tag on my worth, manipulating me into willingly sacrificing myself to become a convenient tool in his life. All so the woman he truly loved could soar, unburdened. They laughed as they walked towards their car. The moment Mark opened the door, he saw me. He froze, and then his expression darkened. “What are you doing here? Stalking me? Is it about that necklace? Do you really have to have it?” Zoe looped her arm through his, tilting her head as she looked at me with a sweet, venomous smile. “Oh, that’s just how housewives are. They don’t earn money, but they sure know how to spend it. And they’re so clingy. Don’t be mad, Mark.” Mark frowned at me, issuing a command. “Go home. You’re not getting the money. This month’s non-essential spending is already three percent over budget. If you want the necklace, you can wait until next month.” Leo watched the drama unfold, whispering to the others. I felt a wave of shame so intense I wanted to run. But then I clenched my fists. My fingertips brushed against the familiar roughness of my skin, a testament to three years of daily immersion in cold water and harsh chemicals. Suddenly, I found my courage. I was not the one who should be ashamed. Love is not a KPI. Marriage is not a transaction. I looked at the man I had loved for so many years, my gaze hardening. “Let’s get a divorce, Mark.” He scoffed. “Now you’re just being hysterical.” The car sped off, leaving me standing alone in the biting wind.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580627”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three days after finalizing the divorce with Holden, two videos exploded across all major platforms. One was from eight years ago, showing me, Scarlett, at twenty-four, bussing tables with Holden at a late-night diner. I was cradling a fifteen-dollar plate of fried rice, my eyes sparkling. “Future Scarlett, once Holden becomes a big-shot director, won’t it be awesome to be married to him? You better remember all the hardships we’re going through now; he’ll have to pay it all back, with interest!” The other clip was from yesterday’s film festival red carpet. The newly crowned Best Actress, Selena, walked past the autograph wall, her arm linked with Holden’s. The man smiled at the cameras. “Finally, I don’t have to see other people’s shadows through Scarlett anymore.” 1 The videos went viral just as I received my acceptance letter from the Vienna Conservatory of Music. Clicking the play button, my twenty-four-year-old self abruptly appeared. A girl with a ponytail, meticulously picking out every single shrimp from her fried rice and transferring them to the bowl across from her. I stared at the screen for a long time before finally digging this memory out from the depths of my mind. It was my second year in the big city after leaving home. I was down to my last two hundred dollars, squatting at a copy shop near the film academy, editing screenplays for people. After three days, only Holden stopped, a cigarette dangling from his lips, raising an eyebrow. “Want to work on a film crew with me?” I looked up, staring at his face, lost in a daze, my throat tightening. He clicked his tongue. “It’s a legitimate crew, daily pay.” From then on, the production’s logistics team gained two new members. I wrote storyboards; he lugged equipment. The set was bustling late at night, few people noticing us in the corner. Only one girl, wearing a baseball cap, occasionally stood behind the monitor, watching us work through the night, her eyes bloodshot. After that, she came every day, carrying a second-hand camera, filming us. Holden was twenty-five then, wild and sharp, with an innate storytelling quality for the camera. I thought she was moved by his persistence. Patting her shoulder, I proudly declared, “What you just filmed is future director Holden’s on-set diary. These shots might be worth a fortune someday.” But she shook her head, saying the protagonist she wanted to capture was never Holden. It was me. She said in twenty-four-year-old Scarlett, she saw herself in her past—reckless, passionate, giving her all. She called this project ‘Eight-Year Dream’. Eight years later, she intended to prove with this film that there are no fairy tales in real life. I laughed, thinking her naive. She stomped off in a huff, but the next day, she reappeared in the corner of the set. As long as she didn’t interfere with our work, we let her be. 2 The forums had already exploded. Someone dug up the comment Holden made backstage at the film festival to Selena. “Oh my god, wasn’t Scarlett rumored to have married Holden for his connections? Who started that lie!” “Scarlett loved Holden to death, okay? This is clearly Holden cheating.” “She worked three jobs to support both their dreams back then—that’s not love? She was super in love!” “Everyone says Selena looks like Scarlett. Is this a ‘substitute’ trope?” They were half right. In twenty-four-year-old Scarlett’s eyes and heart, it truly was all about Holden. But they were also wrong. Selena wasn’t a substitute. I was the shadow. The one in Holden’s heart had always been Selena. When he first took me in at his rented flat, he often stared at my profile, lost in thought. But from the fourth month on, he started truly seeing me. He’d cook late-night snacks when I pulled all-nighters writing scripts, and prepare ginger tea every rainy season. Every night after work, he’d tuck my frozen hands into his jacket pockets. Putting his arm around my shoulders, he’d whisper, “Scarlett, when I make my first movie, I’ll definitely have you as the screenwriter. Then, I’ll propose to you at the premiere.” I nodded hard, working even harder at my jobs. Waking up at five in the morning to edit scripts, then heading to a breakfast shop at seven to fry donuts. At noon, I’d hand out flyers in office buildings. Getting heatstroke in a suffocating mascot costume in summer was common; in the dead of winter, standing on street corners, my hands were covered in chilblains. I also had to constantly watch out for city officials; getting chased once meant half a day’s work wasted. In the evenings, Holden and I would go to film sets as temporary production assistants. He studied photography; I did odd jobs. If we finished early, we’d help bus tables at a late-night diner. Often, we’d be busy until after midnight, then catch the last subway home. The girl who filmed us lasted only a week before collapsing from exhaustion. Rubbing her shoulders, she looked at me with immense respect. “Are you made of steel? Don’t you ever get tired?” How could I not be tired? I was only human. But thinking of that promise made every bit of exhaustion worthwhile. I wanted Holden to succeed sooner so he could repay me a hundredfold, a thousandfold, for all these hardships. If he tried to renege, the video would be proof. In the footage, I was leaning against a wall, dozing off. Holden gently moved his shoulder closer, supporting my swaying body. He frowned, wiping the sweat from my forehead, and sighed. When I caught the faint scent of soap on him, I suddenly jolted awake, feeling recharged. I smiled, tugging at his sleeve, swaying him. That Scarlett never seemed to notice Holden’s occasional moments of distraction. 3 After filming us for a month and a half, the young woman said she was going back to school. Because of Holden and me, she believed in love again. The night before she left, we treated her to a barbecue at the diner. Holden played a tune on his guitar that I had just written. It made the young woman cry again. She asked what the song was called. I said, “Against the Current.” It was a song written for him, and for me. Also because of this song, a producer that night wanted to buy Holden’s short film script. The young woman poked me. “If he really becomes a big director, aren’t you afraid he’ll leave you?” I pulled Holden’s arm, lifted my face, my eyes crescent moons. “Future big director, someone’s questioning your sincerity. Quickly, make a statement.” In front of everyone in the entire night market, Holden leaned down and kissed me, his eyes as gentle as if steeped in honey. “Holden will always love Scarlett! Just like it says in this script, my love for you isn’t enough even if we filmed until wrap.” I rubbed my eyes, turning off the video. My chest ached with a dull pain. Because on TV, Selena’s acceptance speech was playing. The background music was the same “Against the Current” that Holden had been reluctant to sell years ago. Now renamed “Moonlight Elegy.” The composer and screenwriter credits, once my name, were now Selena’s. He once said that if he became a director, I would be his exclusive screenwriter. We would win the Golden Palm together. Before the award submission deadline, he said he would submit my name. But that day, Selena threw a tantrum because I hadn’t brought her coffee. Holden pulled me aside, telling me to apologize. I laughed out loud on the spot. “Holden, am I her assistant?” He, however, said, “Scarlett, be sensible, don’t make things difficult for me.” I stiffened my neck and ordered takeout for Selena. That was my last shred of adult dignity. But at the awards ceremony, I sat in the audience, wearing a rented gown, full of anticipation. I waited and waited. Finally, I watched helplessly as my own work was credited to someone else. “Scarlett, you know Selena has a bad temper, just humor her. To make it up to you, I bought you that limited edition bag.” “It’s perfect; you can focus on the family from now on. Consider this a learning experience.” His words were like a bucket of ice water, chilling me to the bone. That night, I lost my first credit. After that, every time I upset Selena, I paid a price. For example, a script I had just finished writing would suddenly become her idea. My collection of old movie DVDs, cherished for years, was thrown away by her. The writing nook in the study was converted into her dressing room. Each time this happened, Holden would give me a gift. Later, he simply gave me his card and told me to spend freely. I cried, I protested, but in the end, he always grew impatient. “Scarlett, aren’t these enough to repay the hardships you went through with me back then?” “She’s your sister, can’t you just let her have her way? How much longer are you going to keep this up?” I stood frozen, swallowing all my grievances. “Holden, what you owe me, you can never repay.” “If you want me to stop, give me another five hundred thousand.” Fifty thousand, plus the money from selling off the gifts, would be enough for me to independently produce a short film. He looked at me with incomprehension, with disappointment, but no guilt. “Scarlett, you’ve changed.” That day, he threw the check on the coffee table and stormed out. After that, rumors of me ‘extorting’ Holden spread like wildfire. And he watched, coldly. Reopening the forum, I found netizens in an uproar. “Is Selena shameless? Stealing Scarlett’s scripts and meddling in her marriage, I’m boycotting her for life!” “Don’t forget Scarlett got expensive gifts every time she caused a scene! If she really had talent, why would she keep leeching off Holden? She’s just a housewife now, I bet she’s orchestrating all this!” “Victim-blaming? Many of Selena’s films are similar in style to Scarlett’s early scripts, could they all be stolen?” “Holden is Scarlett’s husband. If there were really problems, would he protect Selena so much? Isn’t it obvious who he loves?” As the topic’s popularity soared, my name, Holden’s, and Selena’s were trending in the top three. Selena’s fans flooded my social media with insults. My supporters started trending topics about her plagiarism and being a home-wrecker. Seeing both sides about to spiral out of control, Holden updated his status. Two images. One, a divorce agreement. The other, a copyright transfer contract, with Selena as the beneficiary. At the same time, Selena’s private account was exposed. The content crashed the servers. 4 Selena’s private account interactions with Holden began nine years ago. The first interactive post was full of a teenager’s resentment. Nineteen-year-old Selena wrote: “Suddenly there’s an older sister, but she’s my dad’s ex-wife’s daughter. I hate her.” Holden asked: “What’s your sister’s name?” Scarlett. After that, their conversations always revolved around me. Like what I liked, what I disliked, what my ideal type was. Selena complained about how her bad sister took everything from her. Because of the bad sister, she was forced to go abroad to study acting. Twenty-four-year-old Holden comforted her: “Bad sisters get their comeuppance. Focus on your career abroad.” That year, when he was twenty-four, he finally met twenty-three-year-old Scarlett. A girl who looked seventy percent like Selena. At twenty-five, he got his first commercial advertisement. He became somewhat known, and his work was on subway billboards. That same year, for my sake, he turned down an opportunity in New Orleans. He knew I didn’t want to leave Sterling City. Soon, the buzz faded. He picked up his camera again, returning to the streets to shoot short films. I tried to speak several times, but he just ruffled my hair. “Your big brother is amazing, he’ll bounce back eventually. But my Scarlett shouldn’t settle.” Looking at his face, my eyes welled up, and guilt washed over me. After two more years of filming, when he was twenty-seven, Selena returned. As a rising actress, she invited Holden to collaborate on a public service short film. Holden became famous again, and through Selena’s introduction, he signed with a film company in New Orleans. The night he signed, he held me without saying a word. I guessed he was struggling. In the second year in New Orleans, screenshots of me maxing out his credit cards went viral. His fans labeled me a gold digger, and the entire internet urged him to break up with me. He offered verbal comfort but let me be subjected to cyberbullying. Netizens crowned Selena the “new girlfriend.” Holden remained silent. He came home less and less, but collaborated with Selena more and more. They were hailed as the golden couple of the film industry, with only me as an obstacle. When rumors first started, he would hold me and explain. “Scarlett, it’s all company hype. Selena and I have nothing going on, don’t be angry.” I touched his face and kissed his eyes. “Okay.” Later, he would just smoke on the balcony and tell me to go to sleep first. Now, Selena’s private account once again ignited a wave of hatred against me. My estranged father also published a “heartbroken” long post. He claimed that despite my alleged misdeeds, he still begged netizens to leave me alone. He would make me apologize and stay away from Holden and Selena. Keyboard warriors instantly cheered: “See! Scarlett’s mom was a home-wrecker, Scarlett is a home-wrecker too. Our Selena is the most innocent!” “Why are Scarlett’s supporters quiet now? Her dad confirmed it, she’s a bad seed!” “Holden has spoken out, they’re divorced. Scarlett stole Selena’s place for years, it’s time to pay up! Support Holden and Selena, Scarlett get lost!” Holden and Selena’s fans flooded my social media, their insults even worse than before. I scoffed, turning off my phone. My fingertip traced the photograph of a man who looked exactly like Holden. I kept my promise to you. … The hashtag #HoldenDivorcesGoldDiggerTrueLoveWins remained number one on trending topics for a whole day. Netizens pieced together the scandalous marriage of the top director. Many wondered when Holden would marry Selena. Would their wedding be even more extravagant than his previous lavish one? Others listed my alleged crimes, fantasizing about my tragic downfall. Unexpectedly, a single piece of news reversed the tide.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580626”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After I found out I was pregnant, I decided to stop making a fuss. Even when my husband, Brandon, brought his childhood friend’s widow home, I pretended not to notice. He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Clara has a bit of a fever. I just brought her here to recover.” I thoughtfully closed the door. “Take good care of her, then.” We had screamed at each other hysterically about her countless times, but he never once backed down. It wasn’t until I found out I was pregnant that Brandon’s attitude softened slightly. “After Allen passed, I genuinely just felt sorry for her, being pregnant and all.” I nodded. “Hmm, it gets cold at night. Remember to give her an extra blanket so she doesn’t get sick.” Seeing my indifference, Brandon’s brows furrowed even deeper. “You don’t care at all?” Caring used to exhaust me. Now, I just wanted to safely deliver this child, repaying him for saving my life. Everything else, I truly didn’t care about anymore. … Without waiting for my answer, Brandon frowned deeply. He held my hand, refusing to let go. “She suddenly got a fever. After a hospital check-up, the doctor said to keep an eye on her. She’s pregnant, after all, and I was worried, so I asked her to stay here tonight.” I smiled faintly, pulling my hand away. “I understand. No need to explain. I’ll sleep in the guest room.” Brandon’s expression stiffened. “Why aren’t you asking me?” I had asked countless times before, but all I got in return was his accusations. I said, “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Brandon was silent for a moment, then took my hand again. “I’ll have her leave once she wakes up. She’s just Allen’s…” I finished his sentence for him. “She’s just Allen’s widow. Allen pushed you away during the car accident, and on his deathbed, he asked you to take care of his pregnant wife. You just feel guilty. I won’t speculate about your relationship.” These words, I didn’t know how many times I had heard them. Brandon looked at me, a weary expression on his face. “Lydia, what do you want?” “Let her stay,” I said calmly. “It’s not the first time she’s slept in my bed.” Brandon’s breath hitched, his face changing. Half a month ago, after working overtime until the early hours, Brandon didn’t pick me up for the first time. I came home to find Clara in my pajamas and slippers, lying in the marital bed Brandon and I shared. Her vomit had ruined the first portrait Brandon ever painted for me. And Brandon was sitting calmly by her side, like a husband guarding his wife. I couldn’t stop trembling and had a huge fight with Brandon. “You didn’t pick me up just to be with her?” “Do you like her?” In the end, Brandon disdained explaining further. “Stop being so unreasonable! She’s not like you; Allen always doted on her, she’s innocent and naive. How could she have the dirty thoughts you imagine? Believe it or not.” My heart ached intensely, and I didn’t dare let my tears fall. Brandon refused to say more, slamming the door as he left. Memories faded, and I went to the guest room to make the bed. Brandon followed me, trying to discern any different emotions on my face. Unfortunately, there were none. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, whispering in my ear, “I’ll have the portrait repaired right away. It’s at the studio now. I’ll take you to see it tomorrow, okay?” His studio. I had almost forgotten about it. He was a painter and was very particular about anyone entering his workspace. I had tried several times to go, but he always changed the subject. Over time, I understood what he meant. For all these years, I had never stepped foot into his studio. The last time I tried to go to the studio was his birthday. I had bought a gift and cake, wanting to take him out to celebrate. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Clara, her pregnant belly prominent, chatting and laughing with him inside, as he painted her portrait. She even casually scribbled on his finished artwork, and he just laughed it off. A territory I couldn’t enter. Yet Clara could do as she pleased inside. Brandon and I had another big fight. “She just lost her husband, she’s not in a good mood, she just wanted to see my paintings.” “Why have you become so jealous?” He slammed the door and left. He didn’t even glance at the gift I had prepared for him. I patted the pillowcase. “It’s just a painting. You don’t need to bother.” Brandon froze, his face filled with disbelief. “Just a painting?” “That was the first painting I ever did for you. You said it was your favorite.” I didn’t reply, calmly lying down. I don’t know how long Brandon stood by the bed before he left. In the middle of the night, my calf cramped. Since I found out I was pregnant, my body had started to feel uncomfortable in various ways. I went to get a massage roller and, through the crack in the master bedroom door, saw Brandon massaging Clara’s calf. “Brandon, maybe I should just go. Scarlett will just argue with you again if she finds out.” Brandon was silent for a moment, then said, “It’s not your fault. It’s okay.” “Really? But lately, I feel like you haven’t been replying to my messages promptly. If Allen were still here…” Her words trailed off, and Clara’s crying tone returned. Brandon was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry to both of you.” The cramp in my calf twisted more painfully. I gently pushed open the door. “Excuse me.” Seeing me, Brandon immediately pushed Clara’s leg away and abruptly stood up. Clara, who was over eight months pregnant, struggled to prop herself up. “Scarlett, don’t misunderstand. My leg cramped, and I asked Brandon to help me…” “It’s fine. I just came to get something.” I glanced at them, picked up the massage roller from beside the bed. “Sorry to interrupt. Please continue.” Clara’s face stiffened, and she anxiously looked at Brandon. After Clara left, Brandon came to my room. “Lydia,” he pinched his brows, his voice tired, “let’s talk. Clara and I…” I thought he was going to talk about something else. But it was still this. “I know,” I said, “you feel guilty towards Allen and just want to make amends to her and her child. I understand completely and don’t mind.” Brandon’s face instantly turned pale. “Really? But you used to…” I smiled. “Believe it or not.” This was once his reply to my hysterics. Now I returned it to him verbatim. He heavily wiped his face, then knelt on one knee, holding my calf. “Let me massage it for you.” I didn’t refuse. From this angle, I could clearly see the distinct scar on the side of his neck. On New Year’s Eve, during the third year of our relationship, a stampede occurred at our date spot. Brandon used his arms to fiercely protect me in a corner, creating a tiny space for me to survive. A sharp object had left a long gash on the side of his neck. As blood splattered, he didn’t forget to tell me, “Lydia… don’t be scared. I’m here…” If that year’s wound had been just one millimeter deeper, he would have died on the spot. If it weren’t for him, I would have died in that accident long ago. “Lydia.” I snapped out of my thoughts. His tone was a bit coaxing. “I’ll sleep here with you tonight. Tomorrow I’ll change all the sheets in the master bedroom.” “Actually, you shouldn’t have let her leave. What if she’s uncomfortable?” His movements paused, and he said in a deep voice, “She’s single. It’s not appropriate for her to stay over.” After only a few presses, his phone rang. It was Clara. He glanced at me and put it on speaker. “Brandon! I twisted my ankle and fell. My stomach hurts a little, and I can’t get up right now. Can you come help me?” Brandon instinctively started to walk out, then stopped when he saw me. He opened his mouth, but hesitated to speak. I spoke first. “See? I told you she should have stayed.” His brows furrowed tightly. “I’ll go check on her. I’ll be right back.” I held my breath, touching my belly. I lay down, covering my lower abdomen, and reminisced over the years, sleep completely gone. After we got married, he was diagnosed with severe male infertility, and even with IVF, he only had one chance. Those few days, we barely slept. I saw him several times, clutching the divorce papers, silently crying, then hesitatingly hiding them again. I was the first to come to terms with it. Our relationship was strong, and he had saved my life. Even though the IVF process was incredibly difficult, I still yearned for a life of having children with him and growing old together. During this time, Allen had an accident, leaving behind a pregnant Clara. At that time, I had to inject myself five times a day, take a handful of pills, and have ultrasounds and blood tests every two days. In the beginning, he accompanied me throughout. Later, when I was getting injections, he was accompanying Clara to her prenatal check-ups. When I was having blood drawn, he was helping Clara prepare her hospital bag. We argued more and more frequently. On the egg retrieval day, I lay naked on the operating table, enduring the excruciating pain of a 20-centimeter-long needle piercing my ovaries. I bit my lip until it bled from the pain, silently shedding tears. At that time, I believed that once we had a child, Brandon would realize who his priority should be. When I was pushed out of the operating room looking for him, I found he was already gone. Only a message on my phone: “Clara, being pregnant, is threatening to jump. I had to go. You have doctors taking care of you, don’t worry.” Before I could calm my grief, I received a deliberate call from Clara. On the phone, her voice choked with sobs. “Brandon, if Allen were still here, I wouldn’t be neglected like this! You and Scarlett have such a good relationship; I could have had that too, but Allen cruelly abandoned our child and me!” Brandon’s sigh was trembling. “I will never abandon you in my life.” Despair and anger made the pain even more pronounced, piercing directly into my heart. I couldn’t help it and swore at Clara with many harsh words. When Brandon returned, another fierce argument ensued. “She’s pregnant and just lost her husband, she’s depressed. How can you curse her like that? Aren’t you afraid of pushing her to her death?” “Why are you so heartless now?” “I’m so disappointed in you!” He didn’t care about Clara’s overstepping boundaries, only knew how to criticize me. I jumped onto the windowsill like a madwoman, yelling and questioning: “Brandon! What about me?!” “I take injections and medication, undergoing IVF, just to have a child with you. Am I being pathetic?!” Brandon was scared. He hugged me tightly, his palms trembling as he stroked the back of my head. “Lydia, I said too much. I’m sorry.” “From now on, I’ll only accompany you.” Brandon kept his word. For a while afterward, he proactively cut off contact with Clara, stayed by my side, and personally prepared all three meals a day. At night, he held me, kissing me tenderly until I fell asleep. Half a month later was the embryo transfer surgery. He escorted me outside the operating room, devoutly kissing my forehead. “Lydia, don’t be scared. I’ll be right outside.” “You’ll see me as soon as you come out.” But when I was pushed out of the operating room, I only saw a bouquet of flowers by the hospital bed. And a message from him: “I’m sorry, Lydia, Clara’s baby’s heartbeat is having issues. I have to go check on her. You have a doctor taking care of you, don’t worry.” I closed my eyes, and the tears I expected surprisingly didn’t fall. I simply replied: “Okay.” As my thoughts drifted, my hand was still resting on my lower abdomen. Now, when I thought of Brandon, only one thought remained in my mind. To bear his child, to repay him for saving my life. Everything else, it didn’t matter. Brandon didn’t return until three days later. For those three days, where he was, what he was doing, and who he was with – I didn’t ask at all. I just carried on with my own routine. Clara frequently sent him thank-you messages. I didn’t need to guess where Brandon had been. He kept staring at me, wanting to say something, but not knowing how to explain. I was too lazy to think about it. “The portrait is repaired. I brought it back,” he asked, “should I hang it in the master bedroom?” The painting showed me smiling brightly. I hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. “Whatever,” I said. Brandon’s expression stiffened, and he said no more. He brought back a lot of groceries, made a table full of dishes, and led me to sit down. “Clara bought all the ingredients. She felt she had inconvenienced us.” I didn’t even spare him a glance, just focused on eating. “She was on bed rest for three days at home,” he explained softly. “It wasn’t right for me not to take care of her.” “I slept on the sofa for several nights.” I nodded quietly. Brandon picked up a shrimp for me. “She has surveillance cameras at her house. If you don’t believe me, I can show you the video.” I smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. I won’t cause her any more trouble. No need to explain.” Brandon’s movements paused, and he heavily put down his chopsticks. “Lydia, you’re different from before.” I wondered, “Isn’t it good that I’m quiet?” Brandon’s face instantly turned ashen. “Lydia…” Halfway through the meal, my lower abdomen suddenly cramped, and cold sweat immediately broke out! I was trembling all over from the pain. “The food… something’s wrong.” Brandon, in a panic, scooped me into his arms and carried me to the car. “Don’t be scared, we’re going to the hospital!” Halfway there, Clara’s call came through. “Brandon, I… I’m going into labor, I’m scared…” “Can you come be with me?” The car screeched to a halt by the roadside. I clutched my clothes, suppressing the excruciating pain, waiting for his decision. Brandon’s breathing grew heavy. He looked at me, covered in cold sweat, and after a long moment, said, “Lydia, you’re still early in your pregnancy, there shouldn’t be any danger.” “I know you’re in a lot of pain, but her husband died, and she has no one to rely on. She needs me…” I waved my hand, gritting my teeth, and opened the car door myself.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580625”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day after my engagement, I stumbled upon a forum post online: [What’s the psychology behind people who knowingly become the other woman?] The top comment immediately hit with that “profound truth”: [FYI, the unloved one is the side chick!] [Even though my boyfriend already has a fiancée, I don’t consider myself to be interfering in their relationship.] [He gives me his time, money, and love. Every night he expends his energy on me, while his fiancée, who knows how long it’s been since she’s been ‘satisfied’~] Someone below asked how she could be so sure they weren’t. This ID, “Stargazing Bunny,” immediately replied: [I put my exclusive temporary tattoo on that part of him—it’s a bunny, you know~ Every time he comes to me, I check. If it’s not there, I don’t let him touch me. He guards it so carefully!] [After all, I’m young and fresh, and his fiancée is old and withered. Only a fool wouldn’t know who to choose.] [Yesterday was his fiancée’s 28th birthday, and he didn’t even go back to spend it with her. He just sent a “Happy Birthday” at midnight, oh, and he sent it while we were “exercising” in my bed. He even asked if it was exciting, so annoying~] My fingers froze. Yesterday was my 28th birthday. … Almost instantly, I knew. Harrison Thorne was cheating. I scrolled down further. Stargazing Bunny’s profile had other posts. The previous one, posted three days ago: [Today I casually mentioned wanting to try that private kitchen on the West Side, and Mr. T drove me there at noon. It took over three hours round trip, just for me to have a meal. I fell asleep on the way back, and he let me rest my head on his arm the whole time.] [His fiancée called to ask if he was coming home for dinner, and he said he was tied up at work. After hanging up, he winked at me and said, “Now, you are my work”~] The accompanying photo was of a steering wheel. Outside the window was that familiar old street on the West Side. No wonder that day, Harrison, who said he had a meeting. When he returned, he brought me the signature dessert from that West Side private kitchen. He said a colleague was passing by while on a project and knew I liked sweets, so he specifically had them bring me a portion. Even with his busy schedule, Harrison still thought of me. That feeling of being cherished moved me deeply. Now, it just made me sick to my stomach. Scrolling further back. Stargazing Bunny had posted a fashion dilemma: [Help me choose, ladies. Which outfit should I wear to the movies with Mr. T tomorrow? He usually wears business casual, and I don’t want to be too formal or too casual. I’m so torn.] The photo showed two small dresses spread out on a bed. I bet she chose the pale yellow floral dress. That night, Harrison, who had never commented on my outfits before, uncharacteristically asked me why I didn’t wear floral dresses. Because I was too busy with work, I usually just wore whatever was most convenient. Afraid I’d misunderstand, Harrison immediately hugged me and explained: “Of course, my wife looks good in anything. I was just thinking that when I have some free time, I’ll take you on a beach vacation. You’ve always wanted to go to the Maldives, right?” “Dresses look even more beautiful on the beach, especially bright colors like pale yellow, they give off such a sunny vibe…” “And with some curled hair, it would make for great photos!” Turns out he wasn’t describing an outfit; he was describing a person. I took a deep breath, suppressing the dull, throbbing pain in my heart. Last month, Stargazing Bunny posted two movie ticket stubs. [The most classic romance movie, of course, has to be watched with the one you love.] The showing time was 5:20 PM. That day was our five-year anniversary, Harrison’s and mine. He was very earnest when he first pursued me. He’d bring me an umbrella when it rained, and wait downstairs when I interned late into the night. When I couldn’t write my thesis, he’d help me outline it, patiently, again and again. My roommate said, “Guys like this are rare nowadays, you have to hold onto him.” I did hold onto him. For five years, Harrison was always good to me. He remembered my period, what I liked and disliked to eat, and all our important dates. He truly hadn’t forgotten. But he had broken his promise. 2 My fingers trembled, barely able to scroll the screen. I flipped to the very beginning. Last September, “Stargazing Bunny” posted several consecutive updates. [Today at the gym, I met a super charismatic man! I was warming up, and he was running next to me. After finishing a set, I looked up and found him looking right at me. He even smiled.] [When I was changing equipment, I accidentally knocked over my water bottle, and he immediately came over to help clean it up, asking if I got burned. His voice was so nice, a deep bass; it must be so sexy when he’s breathing hard~] [Today I saw a woman on his phone’s lock screen. He said she was his fiancée, but not as pretty as me.] [Damn it, why is such a disciplined and gentle man already taken? I don’t care, I have to get him!] Harrison had maintained a gym routine for many years. But he wasn’t very diligent in going every week. It seemed that it was from last September that he started frequenting the gym. At the time, I had discomfort in my lower back from sitting too long at the office and also thought about exercising. But Harrison said his gym was too far from my company and inconvenient. He actively helped me find another, nicer gym nearby and bought me an annual membership. I thought he was being considerate, thinking of me. Turns out, this was the real reason. That man who swore he loved me, wanted to spend his life with me, and promised eternal fidelity. All his “overtime” and “busyness” for the past six months. He wasn’t working hard for our future; he was spending all his time with another woman. For a moment, I wanted to storm directly into Harrison’s company, in front of everyone. Throw the evidence in his face, demand to know why he did this to me. Humiliate him completely, ruin his reputation. But such a public showdown seemed so ugly. Five years together, why should it come to this? I braced myself on the table and staggered into the restroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I calmed down slightly. Picking up my phone, I refreshed the page. “Stargazing Bunny” had just posted a new update. [Tonight, he said he had a business dinner, but he really just didn’t want to go back to face that old woman~ Anyway, he’s here with me. We ordered crawfish and beer. He peels shrimp so seriously, more seriously than he takes off his own clothes, hehe.] The accompanying picture showed a man’s hands peeling shrimp, his knuckles distinct. Above that, his collar was slightly open, revealing a sexy collarbone and Adam’s apple. This angle, this action—I was all too familiar with them. Once upon a time, Harrison used to sit across from me like this, peeling and deveining shrimp for me. I worried he was working too hard, but he just smiled and said: “What’s so hard about serving my wife?” “Anyway, in this life, I’ll only ever serve one woman: you.” My phone suddenly vibrated. A message from Harrison: [Wife, I’ll be home a bit late. Want me to bring you some late-night food? Crawfish, do you want some?] I stared at that line of text for a long time. Every time he said that before, I would send a happy emoji. I paused, then typed: [No thanks, I’m not hungry.] He replied instantly: [Okay then, get some rest if you’re tired.] The sound of the lock turning. I looked at the clock, 10:30 PM. Harrison pushed the door open, carrying a cake box. Seeing me sitting in the living room, he froze for a moment, then walked over with a smile. “Didn’t I tell you to go to bed early? Why are you still waiting for me?” He placed the cake box on the coffee table and opened it. It was a strawberry cake from my favorite shop. “Passed by and saw their new seasonal limited edition. Thought you’d definitely like it, so I bought it. Consider it a belated birthday treat. I’ve been so busy lately. Thank you, my wife, for being so understanding and generous, for understanding that your husband’s work is tough and he can’t always be with you.” He spoke, reaching out to touch my head. His tone was natural, his movements fluid. No different from any ordinary night over the past five years. I looked at him. That familiar face, those gentle eyes, that hand rubbing my head. He didn’t look like a cheating man at all. But that hand, an hour ago, hadn’t it touched another girl? Touched every inch of her skin? I closed my eyes in disgust, pulling away from his touch. Harrison’s hand froze in mid-air. “What’s wrong, wife?” “You don’t look so good. Did you encounter a difficult client again?” I calmly explained, “No, just a little tired.” “Then I’ll cut you some cake. Eat a bite and then go to bed, okay?” I watched him lower his head. The contents of that forum post flashed repeatedly in my mind. “Sent birthday wishes while ‘exercising’ in my bed,” “his fiancée is old and withered,” “the unloved one is the side chick.” The unloved one is the side chick. Perhaps in some people’s eyes, love is a competition where first come, first served doesn’t matter. As long as the first one isn’t firmly chosen, they can be righteously replaced by the next. “Harrison.” He looked up, still holding the cake knife. “Hm?” I looked into his eyes, enunciating each word: “Do you have anything else you want to tell me?” 3 That was the last chance I gave Harrison. As long as he confessed proactively, we could part amicably, preserving his last shred of dignity. And it would have brought closure to my final lingering sentiment for our five-year relationship. “What do you mean?” “Helen, what’s gotten into you today?” Harrison’s expression also paused. Perhaps it was guilt. Perhaps it was a test. For the first time in five years, I couldn’t read the man in front of me. “Harrison, are you hiding something from me?” The fingers gripping the cake knife tightened slightly. Just for an instant, then his expression returned to normal as he continued to cut the cake. “Hiding what from you?” His voice was gentle as he offered the first slice he cut to me. “Did I upset my wife by secretly buying a strawberry cake without telling her?” The scent of strawberries wafted over. My favorite smell. Before, every time I smelled it, I couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him. Now, looking at that slice of cake, I just felt nauseous. “Answer my question.” The smile on his face slowly faded. He placed the cake on the coffee table and sat across from me. His hands were clasped on his knees, his posture relaxed. But his gaze was fixed on me. “Helen, did something happen to you?” He was observing me. After five years of being together, I could discern the meaning of his every micro-expression. At this moment, the corners of his mouth were slightly downturned, and there was a faint crease between his brows. It was his tense posture when facing an uncertain situation. “Harrison, I’m asking you right now. Answer me first.” Silence spread between us. His phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the screen, didn’t answer, and immediately pressed to dismiss the call. “Work stuff. I’ll call them back later.” I casually said, “Call them back now. What if it’s important?” “Nothing is more important than you.” Harrison had said that countless times. Each time, I believed it. Now, it only felt ironic. “Helen.” He called my name seriously, his gaze focused. “I don’t know if my recent lack of companionship has made you overthink. But I can tell you, I’m not hiding anything from you. It’s been five years, you know best what kind of person I am.” I was silent for a moment, then asked again, “Where were you this afternoon?” His eyes flickered slightly, then quickly returned to normal. “At the office. I had a meeting until after one.” “Who did you have lunch with?” “Ordered some takeout, just grabbed something quick.” “And tonight?” Harrison paused. “Didn’t I tell you? I had a business dinner. Smell me, I still have the scent of alcohol on my breath.” He said, trying to lean closer to me. Seeing my disgusted expression, he looked hurt. “Alright, alright, I know my wife doesn’t like me drinking. I’ll go shower right away.” The sound of rushing water from the bathroom. I stood at the door, hearing a muffled voice from inside. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me when I’m home? What if she finds out? She seems to have noticed something lately…” “No way, she’s the only daughter-in-law my parents recognized long ago. I can’t break up with her. Just be good. Besides going public, I’ll give you whatever you want.” “Little minx, next week you won’t be able to get out of bed. See how I’ll satisfy you.” Hearing this with my own ears, I thought I would be heartbroken to the point of tearing myself apart. But in reality, there was only a dull, spreading numbness. Perhaps my heart had truly given up. At 3 AM, Harrison was already asleep. His phone lay on the bedside table, screen down. I picked it up; the password was my birthday, unchanged. I checked it, and there was no abnormality. Just when I thought he had cleaned everything, I suddenly remembered he had a so-called work-only private account. Switching over, there was only one contact named [Ms. Bunny]. The chat history was dense. Besides daily exchanges, it was mostly indecent flirtation and teasing. Before he left in the morning, she asked: [Are you up?] He replied: [Both I and it are up.] Accompanied by a picture of a blanket bulging. At noon, he sent: [So conflicted, don’t know what to eat.] She replied with a selfie wearing lace: [How about eating me?] After saving all the evidence, I put the phone back in its place. Turning my head, I looked at the man’s sleeping profile. I suddenly remembered something. My hand reached for his pants. Just as I started to pull them down, Harrison noticed my movement. He groggily opened his eyes and pressed my hand down. “Wife, do you want to? I’ve been so tired from work lately. Let’s do it another time.” Was he really tired from work? Or had he expended all his energy on that Ms. Bunny? I remembered the glimpse I had just caught. The bunny tattoo. “Harrison, wake up. Tell me the truth.” “Who is that woman?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580624”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 During my prenatal check-up, Justin received a call, and his face instantly changed. He looked at me, full of internal struggle and pain. “Carrie, Maya’s flight is today. She’s never coming back to the States.” “One last time, I have to see her off.” I gently stroked my belly, watching him silently. “Do you have to go?” Justin’s voice trembled; he dared not look at me. “Carrie, I will live a good life with you from now on. The three of us, as a family, will be good.” With that, he left without looking back. He didn’t see me collapse to the ground behind him. In the operating room, the doctor confirmed again. “This baby, we can still save it. Are you sure you don’t want it?” I closed my eyes and nodded. No, I don’t want it. And I don’t want Justin either. The name Maya was a taboo between Justin and me. No one had mentioned it for a long time. Hearing it again today, it felt strangely surreal. Justin’s expression was torn and pained, just like when he knelt before me, begging for my forgiveness. He swore to the heavens, promising me he would completely cut ties with Maya. “Do you have to go?” My voice sounded strangely calm, as if it wasn’t my own. But Justin had already left without looking back. His retreating figure was resolute and final. I, however, smiled. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, and blood stained the floor. This child, after all, couldn’t be kept. … After the surgery, I returned home, my face ashen. The room was pitch black; Justin hadn’t come back. No calls, no messages. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, a mocking smirk. Where Justin was, was self-evident. Just as I was about to go to the bedroom, the front door suddenly opened. Justin was back. He looked at me, a little surprised, his eyes flickering. “Carrie, why are you in the living room? Why haven’t you rested yet?” He stepped forward, trying to put his arm around me. But I smelled a perfume that didn’t belong to me or him. As my gaze swept over his neck, I also saw a red mark. I should have been furious, but at that moment, I felt a sense of finality and relief. No questioning, no hysterics. I pulled back a step in disgust. “Justin, let’s get a divorce.” Justin froze, then his tone grew irritable. “Carrie! What do you want? I already told you, this was the last goodbye! Why can’t you be understanding?” I looked at the agitated Justin before me, my eyes somewhat unfocused. He rarely lost his temper with me. In everyone’s eyes, Justin adored me. I believed it too. He would spend a fortune to buy me exquisite jewelry. He would even set off fireworks that lit up the entire city on my birthday, just to please me. … These things were countless. Until the appearance of one person: his new assistant, Maya. Only because I asked Maya to get out of Justin’s passenger seat, Maya’s eyes turned red with grievance. Justin then lost his temper with me. At that moment, I knew Justin had crossed a line with Maya. I cried, I made a scene, even threatened to expose Maya and make it impossible for her to stay in the city. Justin, a man of such pride, knelt before me. He said he would end it completely. He said he was just momentarily lost. He said he would fire Maya and never see her again. At that time, touching the child in my belly, I decided to give Justin another chance. But now, I knew, I didn’t want this man anymore. Justin was still making excuses. “Carrie, I told you, this was the last time. She’s already gone, can you please stop this? Didn’t we say we wouldn’t bring up divorce anymore?” I looked at Justin, and the man before me seemed unrecognizable, having become a liar whose mouth was only filled with falsehoods. My lower abdomen started hurting again. I was too tired to argue with Justin anymore and turned to go back to the bedroom. A deafening door slam echoed from the hallway. 2 That night, I slept restlessly, my dreams filled with fragments of the past. Justin and I were in an arranged marriage. Yet, we were surprisingly compatible. I had hesitated about this relationship at the time. This circle always had its fair share of affairs. My parents respected my opinion greatly, and they also advised me to think carefully. It was Justin. He knelt before me, swearing to the heavens. “Carrie, I will never betray you in this life!” “I’m not like them! I will treat you well!” “There will only be you by my side!” … The vows in my ears felt like they were from yesterday, yet they had long turned into a joke. When Maya’s eyes were red and she looked timid, I saw the heartache in Justin’s eyes. That favoritism, once exclusively mine, he had given to another woman. I tearfully confronted Justin, even slapping him several times. But I only got his reply. “Carrie, this is how it is in this circle! Besides, I haven’t even cheated!” I broke down. I stopped eating and drinking, even having suicidal tendencies. That night, when Justin woke up with a start, he saw me standing by the window, one foot about to step out. Justin cried then, holding me tightly, dragging me to the sofa, then kneeling on the ground, slapping himself repeatedly. “Carrie, I’ll never say such foolish things again.” “I’ll make Maya leave. She’ll never appear before you in this lifetime.” I looked at Justin, and my heart softened. Later, things between us seemed to return to how they were before. But my heart, I don’t know why, became increasingly numb, colder and colder, until it was utterly desolate. Perhaps, I should have divorced then, but I had a child. That child, whom Justin and I had yearned for for three years. … When I woke up, it was already bright daylight. I went to the living room, only to see the table laden with my favorite dim sum. Justin was looking at me eagerly. “Carrie, you must be starving, right?” “This is from your favorite bakery, Sterling’s Finest.” “Hurry, eat something.” Justin’s expression was natural, as if yesterday’s events had never happened. He even pulled out a chair for me and set out chopsticks. I silently sat down and ate. My body urgently needed nourishment, and I was too tired to argue anymore. Seeing me finish my meal, Justin also relaxed. He thought yesterday’s events were over. “Carrie, I’ll be on a business trip for a while. Take good care of yourself at home.” I calmly nodded. “When you get back, we’ll go file for divorce.” Justin’s face instantly changed. The cup beside him was slammed hard onto the floor. His tone was clearly filled with exasperation and anger. “Carrie, what do you want? I’ve already humbled myself, what else are you dissatisfied with? Why have you become so aggressive now? Carrie, I’m telling you, I’m not getting a divorce!” I looked at Justin’s distorted face before me, my heart surprisingly calm. The old Carrie would have probably cried from being wronged. Back then, she loved Justin. She couldn’t bear to let him go, even if he was emotionally lost. She would rather torment herself to death, just to give him another chance. But now, I didn’t want him. “Justin, I’m leaving. It’ll make space for your Maya. Why are you angry? I’m completing your happiness.” Justin grew even more furious. “Carrie! Don’t be so unreasonable! Yesterday, I told you it was the last time. I’ve already fired her as you requested, and we won’t see each other again. What else do you want me to do? Besides, I never even cheated in the first place! What do you want? I love you, only you, just you!” I laughed. I laughed at Justin’s shamelessness. “Justin.” “Do you really think I’m a fool?” “You came back so late yesterday. The red mark on your neck, the perfume on your clothes. This sudden business trip today.” “Justin, honestly, you’re quite shameless.” The room instantly fell silent. Justin’s chest heaved, his face alternating between green and pale. I ignored him and walked straight out the door. Justin probably forgot. When he knelt down and repeatedly promised to marry me, he had signed a divorce agreement. If he betrayed me, I could leave him anytime. Now, that divorce agreement was his comeuppance! 3 Leaving the house Justin and I shared, I returned to my parents’ home. My parents looked delighted to see me back. “Carrie, why did you come over today?” They came to greet me, their faces full of concern. “Didn’t you have a prenatal check-up yesterday? How’s the baby?” I couldn’t hold back anymore, and tears immediately streamed down my face. “Mom, Dad, the baby’s gone. I want a divorce.” My parents didn’t know about Justin and Maya’s affair. At that time, I was filled with resentment, pain, and indecision. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to be ruthless. I suffered and struggled alone, not telling my parents. My parents instantly fell silent after hearing my words. My mom’s eyes were red, and she hugged me tightly. “What happened? Are you hurt?” I cried even harder. I told my parents everything about Justin and Maya. Our family company still had a partnership with Justin’s family company. If we divorced, we would definitely have to sever ties. My dad slammed his fist on the table. “Divorce!” “Carrie, your mom and I are getting old; we don’t have much ambition left. No partnership, no partnership! We have enough money to support the three of us. No need to compromise!” Hearing my father’s words, I cried even more fiercely. I stayed at home like this. Justin’s calls were incessant, but I didn’t answer. I just wanted to quietly recover my body before dealing with the divorce. But that day, my father suddenly returned home, his face filled with rage. “That Justin, he’s a piece of trash!” It was from my father’s words that I learned Justin had actually started to suppress our family company! I couldn’t hold back anymore. I rushed out the door, determined to confront Justin. How could he have the nerve?! Returning to the house Justin and I shared. There was another person there: Maya, who was supposed to have left the country! Seeing me return, Justin’s face immediately darkened. Maya flinched, hiding behind Justin. Justin’s expression grew even uglier. “Carrie, do you have the nerve to come back?” I looked at him with a cold face. “Justin, why don’t I have the nerve to come back? You’re bringing your mistress into our home; how dare you lecture me? Even if we divorce, you have no right to target my dad’s company!” Justin’s eyes were dark and menacing. “Carrie, this is a warning and punishment for you! How dare you lay a hand on Maya? She was already leaving.” I looked at Justin and only felt absurdity. “I laid a hand on her? Justin, I wouldn’t want to dirty my hands!” Justin, however, sternly demanded. “Who else but you? You actually hired people to kidnap her and tried to humiliate her! Don’t you know, if I hadn’t arrived in time, Maya would have been ruined!” His gaze was cold, and a smirk played on his lips. “You once said you’d ruin Maya, didn’t you?” Yes, the crazy me, who once deeply loved Justin, had sworn to fight Maya to the death. But not anymore. I looked at Maya. She was softly sobbing behind Justin, but her eyes, when she looked at me, were full of provocation. I understood then: Maya had never intended to leave the country, never intended to leave at all. She was just playing a game of retreating to advance. The whole “kidnapping and humiliation” was her own well-staged act. Only Justin fell for it. Maya cautiously tugged at Justin’s sleeve. “Justin, please don’t argue with Ms. Jiang. I’m fine. It’s all my fault for getting too close to you, that’s why Ms. Jiang is angry. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely leave.” Justin, however, loudly stopped Maya. “Maya, don’t be afraid! I won’t let you leave! Going abroad alone, unfamiliar with the place, who knows what could happen.” After comforting Maya, Justin turned to me. “Carrie, I’ll arrange for Maya to work at a branch company. She won’t appear before us. This is compensation for you hurting her this time. Put away your petty thoughts. I told you, you will always be Mrs. Thorne.” At this point, his voice softened. “This time, I won’t pursue it. I know you care about me, and you’re just confused because you care. The partnership between Thorne Inc. and Jiang Corp. will continue. I’ll hold a press conference to stabilize the situation. We’re about to become parents, let’s be good and stop fighting, okay?” I only found it comical. He didn’t know the baby was already gone. The moment he chose Maya again. I didn’t want to argue with Justin anymore. Since he had no shame, I didn’t need to show any mercy. I gave Justin a deep look, then smiled and nodded. This time, I was going to give Justin a grand gift.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580623”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 A stranger started appearing in my social media logs, the account where I posted about my marriage. For a month, she kept visiting. Finally, I messaged her: [Who are you?] After a long silence, she posted three updates. The first text read: [First saw you a month ago. You were buying irises for your wife after work, saying they were her favorite. Mine too.] My husband had been bringing me irises daily for a month, claiming he bought them near his office. The second post showed two hands holding each other. The man’s hand had a hexagram tattoo—identical to the one on my husband’s hand. The caption: [Our first time holding hands.] My hands shook as I opened the third post. It was an ultrasound report with the message: [I’m pregnant. So, are you going to divorce your wife?] … I stared, frozen, at the glaring image of the ultrasound report on my phone screen. I recognized every word, every medical term. But now, they swam before my eyes, blurring into an incomprehensible mess. I blinked hard, again and again, until the woman’s name finally swam into focus: Serena. A name I didn’t know, a name I had never once heard James mention. I kept telling myself it had to be a coincidence. It had to be. Any man in the world could cheat, but not James. Never James. His entire paycheck went into our joint account. He was home on time from the gym. When he was home, he took on the lion’s share of the housework without a word of complaint. He had no bad habits to speak of, save for the occasional weekend workout or badminton game. I had free rein to look at his phone, to check his bank statements whenever I wanted. He was, in the words of all my friends, the flawless, ideal husband. Even my parents, who hadn’t been his biggest fans initially, now sang his praises. Him, cheating? It was impossible. But once a seed of doubt is planted, it grows with monstrous speed. The conflicting thoughts ricocheting around my head all day nearly drove me mad. So, when it was time for James to get off work, I left the house. I found a spot inside a convenience store across from his office building and waited, hidden from view. At 6:05 PM, right on schedule, James walked out of his building and headed straight for the flower shop next door. My breath caught in my throat, my nails digging unconsciously into my palms. But the moment I saw the shop owner, a wave of relief washed over me. The woman was… plain. Unremarkable. She looked a couple of years older than James, and more importantly, there was a little boy of about seven or eight at her side. Clearly a mother. James walked in and expertly picked out a bouquet of irises, handing them to the woman to be wrapped. He even chose my favorite shade of wrapping paper, a pale, soft blue. A small smile touched my lips. The anxiety that had been twisting my gut all day finally unknotted. I even felt a pang of guilt, chiding myself for being so paranoid and sensitive ever since the miscarriage. No wonder James, when pushed to his limit, had told me he felt like he was suffocating sometimes. After our biggest fight ever last month, I had actually started to reflect on my behavior. James’s face, etched with exhaustion, was seared into my memory. “I’m already exhausted from working all day to support us,” he’d said. “I don’t want to come home and be interrogated like a criminal.” He was right. I had been pushing him too hard. But just as I was about to step out and surprise him, my eyes widened in disbelief. The florist didn’t take the flowers right away. Instead, she stood on her toes and planted a quick, butterfly-light kiss on his cheek. James didn’t push her away. He simply rested his hand on the small of her back, a gesture of casual intimacy. My hand, resting on the door handle, began to shake. The scene unfolding before me was so absurd, it burned. It merged with another memory, a scene from six months ago, right after I found out I was pregnant. That night, James hadn’t pushed away the girl a client had shoved into his lap. I’d gone to find him, worried he was too drunk, and I saw it all through the small glass window of the private room door. I watched him drink the liquor she fed to him with her own hands. The emotional shock of it all sent me into premature labor. I lost our first child that day. Later, James knelt by my hospital bed, his eyes red-rimmed, explaining that it was just business, just an act. He couldn’t risk offending the client by rejecting the girl so bluntly. He swore he had no feelings for her whatsoever. What were his exact words back then? He’d said, “Those women have nothing on you. They can’t compare to your looks, your education, your background, the way you carry yourself.” “Olivia,” he’d sworn, “I’m not stupid enough to cheat with someone who’s a downgrade.” I don’t remember how I got home. It was the sound of the front door opening that pulled me from the suffocating fog. James stood there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bag of fresh groceries in the other. He sounded cheerful. “How about beef and asparagus for dinner?” His tone was so light, so normal. But to me, it felt like a boulder crashing down, shattering what was left of my heart. I finally looked up at him, my voice trembling. “James, have you done anything to betray me?” 2 James froze, his expression stiffening. A second later, he forced an unnatural smile. “Liv, what’s with you? Getting suspicious again?” “You keep such a tight leash on me,” he continued, his voice growing steadier, more confident. “You really have nothing to worry about.” He sounded so sure of himself, his tone even bordering on impatient by the end. He looked like a man with a perfectly clear conscience. Seven years together, five of them married. I knew him too well. James was a man driven by pride and ambition. That’s why he’d worked himself to the bone, clawing his way up the corporate ladder in just a few years—all because he couldn’t stand the thought of people saying he’d married up by being with me. But that same pride made him incredibly stubborn. He would never, ever admit to anything unless he was caught red-handed. I managed a weak smile, my eyes drifting to his phone, which he’d casually dropped on the entryway table. He had a routine. The first thing he always did after coming home was take a shower. Sure enough, seeing that I wasn’t pushing the issue, he seemed to think I was just bluffing. He let out a barely audible sigh of relief. “Whatever. I’m used to you accusing me of things anyway.” “I’m going to go shower,” he said. “I’ll make you something delicious when I’m out.” Just like always, he left his phone behind, probably not wanting to make me more suspicious by taking it into the bathroom. Or maybe he just knew that I’d always been the trusting type, that I’d never stooped to secretly checking his phone. But this time was different. I’d already called my best friend earlier today, the one who specializes in divorce law. She told me that with what I had, proving infidelity in court would be difficult. That’s why I hadn’t confronted him with everything just yet. I had pulled strings for him, using my father’s connections to discreetly pave his way, all to protect his fragile ego. He had indeed soared, but if he was the one who had wronged me, then he deserved to be the one to crash and burn. James was cautious; I’ll give him that. A quick scan of his phone revealed no obvious clues. His chat logs were filled with colleagues and business partners, all labeled with their company and title. Until I opened the chat with his “Badminton Coach.” [Mr. Knight, I’ve sent over the photos from last week’s session. Please check them.] [You and your wife make a great pair. You’re both very talented.] I had never played badminton with him in my life. So of course, the woman in the picture wasn’t me. It was her. The woman from the flower shop. The shutter had clicked at the exact moment their eyes met, their gazes overflowing with a love that was supposed to be mine. A tear fell, then another, splashing onto the cold glass of the screen. The sound of the shower, muffled by the door, was the only thing that drowned out my choked sobs. And then, I found more. In a chat log with a contact saved as “S. Reid,” I found a running commentary of his entire life. What he had for lunch, a great song he’d heard, whether he was stuck in traffic on his way to or from work. James shared every mundane detail of his day with her. I realized with a jolt that because I’d been so distracted all day, I hadn’t messaged him once. And he hadn’t sent me a single word. Like a thief, I scrolled through their private world, my fingers moving on their own, peeking at a happiness that wasn’t mine to see. I was so engrossed that I didn’t even hear the water shut off. The sound of the bathroom door opening startled me back to reality. I instinctively exited the app and locked the screen. He emerged from the bathroom just in time to see me setting the phone down. Panic flashed across his face. “Were you checking my phone?” “If you haven’t done anything wrong, what are you so afraid of?” I shot back, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips. But before I could say another word, he strode towards me and snatched the phone from my hands. The sharp edge of the phone case scraped across my palm, hard. A line of red beaded up instantly. But James didn’t even notice. He was already launching into a tirade. “Olivia, do you have any idea how you’re driving me crazy?!” “I know you’re from a wealthy family, that you were marrying down when you chose me, but haven’t I been good enough to you?!” “Do you know what I feel like?” he spat, his voice raw with wounded pride. “A dog on a leash, and you’re holding the other end!” His ego, finally unleashed, consumed him. He threw on his clothes and stormed out of the apartment. The heavy slam of the door echoed in the now-empty room, leaving me alone with the sound of my own weeping, which I could no longer hold back. I don’t know how long I cried. Eventually, exhausted, I just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling. That’s when my phone lit up. That same account had a new post. [He knows I’m pregnant. He was so happy.] [He told me to keep the baby.] The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering to the floor. It landed face up, the screen glowing. And just as I looked, a new notification appeared. It was a direct message from her. [I know you’ve found out. Let’s meet.] 3 I never thought it was possible. I never imagined someone could be a homewrecker and be so brazenly proud of it. Serena sat down across from me, her eyes scanning me up and down, making no effort to hide her appraisal. “You’re not as beautiful as I imagined,” she said with a smirk. “But I guess looks don’t matter in the end. He’s mine now, isn’t he?” I squeezed my spoon, stirring my latte so hard the foam art dissolved, fighting the primal urge to throw the scalding coffee in her face. I took a deep breath. “You’re a woman. A mother, even,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Aren’t you afraid that one day, people will point fingers at your son because of what you’ve done?” She burst out laughing, as if I’d just told the world’s funniest joke. “Let me be honest with you,” she said, leaning forward. “My ex-husband left me for someone else, too. I was just like you back then—confused, devastated, I made a huge scene. But then I met James. And I finally understood. When love hits you, you just… you don’t care about anything else.” Her shamelessness was so profound it was almost comical. I nearly laughed myself. After a moment, I stared directly into her eyes. “He hasn’t actually agreed to divorce me, has he?” The smug satisfaction on Serena’s face instantly froze. I knew I was right. “James isn’t an idiot,” I said, letting out a dismissive scoff. “You really think he’d leave a wife like me… for you?” “Do you have any idea what kind of people he works with, the circles he moves in? If he actually divorced me and married you, what could you possibly bring him besides utter embarrassment?” My words hit their mark. Serena shot to her feet, her expression twisting into a mask of fury. “What are you so proud of? So what if you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth? You still couldn’t even keep your own man!” she shrieked. “I bet if we both messaged him right now, he would choose me without a second thought!” I raised an eyebrow, took out my phone right in front of her, and sent James a text. [Honey, my stomach hurts really bad. Can you take me to the hospital?] Serena, desperate to prove her point, did the same, her voice in the audio message dripping with a sickening sweetness that made my stomach turn. “James, honey, I’m not feeling so well. Do you think you were a little too rough last night? I’m worried about the baby.” Five minutes later, both our phones buzzed. James had replied. His text to me read: [I’m in a meeting. Go to the hospital yourself.] His reply to her was a voice message. His tone was laced with pure panic. “Where are you? I’m on my way. Don’t move.” As the message finished playing, a triumphant grin spread across Serena’s face. “You lose. Now get out.” “So what? As long as he doesn’t divorce me, you’ll always be the dirty little secret, the other woman who can never be seen in the light of day!” I snatched my purse, my whole body radiating a fury that looked completely genuine, as if I had been pushed past my breaking point. I stormed out of the café under her gloating gaze. James arrived faster than I expected. The second he saw Serena, he rushed to her, grabbing her hand, ready to whisk her away. She whispered something in his ear. I saw the tension visibly drain from his body. He smiled, then reached out and gave her nose an affectionate tap. Hiding just outside the café, I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, fighting back a wave of nausea. My hand, holding my phone up to record, was steadier than I could have ever imagined. That night, James came home as usual. He saw me sitting on the sofa, watching TV, and paused for a moment. Then, he came over and sat beside me. His voice was casual, but I could hear the subtle note of probing beneath it. “Honey, I’m sorry. I was just so stressed from work yesterday, I said some things I didn’t mean.” “Are you okay? Did you end up going to the hospital?” A faint, cloying scent of perfume clung to him. The same one Serena had been wearing. It was suffocating. I feigned indifference, pushing him away slightly. “Move. You’re blocking the TV.” He visibly relaxed. He murmured an obedient “okay” and disappeared into the bathroom. The moment the door clicked shut, I turned my gaze away from the screen. A second later, I was hunched over the trash can, vomiting my guts out. Later that night, in bed, James slid closer, his hand creeping onto my waist. “It’s been a while…” “It’s late. I’m tired. Let’s just sleep.” I shifted away, putting a deliberate distance between us. I felt his body go rigid. “My mom wants me to come over for dinner tomorrow,” I added. “So I won’t be home.” Tomorrow was Saturday, James’s day off. His routine was to go to the badminton club first thing in the morning. I used to think it was a sign of his self-discipline. Now I knew it was just an excuse to rush off to a date with his mistress. James didn’t question it. He just told me he understood and then, with nauseating hypocrisy, asked me to come home early because he would miss me. Soon, his breathing evened out into a steady rhythm. I picked up my phone and opened my chat with Serena. [Seems like you can’t satisfy him either. He was all over me just now, like a hungry wolf.] [I heard women get loose after having a baby. Is that true for you?] Then, I muted her notifications and put my phone away. The next morning, I made a show of leaving in front of James, even reminding him to pick me up from my parents’ place that evening. He agreed readily, even walking me to the door. Not twenty minutes after I left, I saw James’s car pull out of our apartment complex. Just as I’d predicted. He was going to meet Serena. Even from a distance, I could see their two bodies tangled together in the front seat. They were kissing in the car, right out in the open, for a good ten minutes. This time they didn’t go to the badminton club. They drove straight to the nearest hotel. I don’t know what Serena did, but James was practically sprinting out of the car, his every step screaming impatience. I forced myself to breathe, to quell the frantic pounding of my heart, and kept the camera rolling. I watched until they disappeared through the hotel’s revolving doors. Then, I made three phone calls. The first was to James’s parents, who cared about their reputation more than anything in the world. The second was to his direct supervisor, the man in charge of his next promotion. For the third, I took a deep, steadying breath and dialed the three numbers. “Hello, 911?” “I’d like to report solicitation at the Haven Hotel. The man’s name is…” “James. Knight.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580622”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Everyone knew I’d do anything for Alexander Pierce, the golden boy of Manhattan. I was his shadow, his doormat. So much so that while he was dropping a fortune on his personal secretary at a high-end auction, I was on my knees giving that same secretary a foot massage. Halfway through the massage, a line of glowing text suddenly materialized in my vision, like a comment on a live stream. [Here we go. It’s time for the heroine’s brother to need his medical bills paid. But she needs the secretary’s approval to get the money, and the secretary will refuse. The heroine will have to go sell drinks at a club to make cash!] [Just wait. When the male lead finds out, he’s going to call her a pathetic, gold-digging tramp again.] [Ugh, I know this is standard for a tragic novel, but the heroine’s life is just brutal. Later on, she even has to give the secretary one of her kidneys, her brother still dies, and the male lead gives her parents’ company to the secretary as a birthday gift.] My hands froze. So, I’m the tragic heroine in some twisted novel? I became your lapdog so you would save my family, and you turn around and annihilate them instead? To hell with this. I’m done. 1 Looking at Scarlett Monroe’s smug, entitled face as she luxuriated in my service, I could no longer suppress the rage simmering in my chest. I stood up, my voice cold. “The request I submitted for my brother’s medical expenses. Can you approve it now?” Scarlett’s brow furrowed in annoyance, her tone dripping with contempt. “What’s the rush? We’ll talk after the auction. Mr. Pierce said he’s buying me anything I want today.” She paused, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. “Besides, your brother is basically a vegetable. What’s the difference between that and being dead? Lying in a hospital bed is a waste of money and resources. Why are you in such a hurry to pay? A few more days won’t change anything.” “What did you say?” All the blood rushed to my head, a roaring sound filling my ears. CRACK! Before Scarlett could react, I swung my hand and delivered a sharp, ringing slap across her face. “Isabella… you dare hit me?” Scarlett stammered, clutching her cheek in disbelief. Just then, the door to the private lounge swung open and Alexander Pierce walked in. Scarlett immediately threw herself into his arms, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Alex! Isabella hit me for no reason! Look at my face, it’s already swelling up!” Alexander’s voice was ice. “Isabella. Who gave you the nerve to touch my people?” I rolled my eyes. “I asked your precious secretary to approve my brother’s medical fees. Not only did she deliberately stall, but she also wished him dead. Is there a problem with me hitting her for that?” Huddled in Alexander’s arms, Scarlett’s voice was fragile and innocent. “Mr. Pierce, her application form wasn’t filled out correctly. I just asked her to redo it, and she attacked me!” Alexander’s face darkened, his tone becoming a harsh command. “Isabella, Scarlett manages my finances. I told you all expenses have to be approved by her. You’re the one who didn’t follow procedure. Apologize to Scarlett. Now.” I straightened my spine. “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?” [WHOA! The heroine is finally fighting back! She’s not taking it anymore!] [YES! It’s about time! Why should she have to endure this crap?] [Sigh, it’s no use. This is a tragic novel. As the heroine, if she resists now, she’ll just suffer more. The male lead will only hate her more.] I scoffed internally, a surge of defiance rushing through me. Bullshit. My fate is my own. This is my body, my life. Am I not allowed to make my own decisions? Tragic novel plot? Predestined misery? I refuse. I’ll rewrite my own damn story and make every single person who hurt my family pay. The moment that silent roar echoed in my mind, a crisp, mechanical sound chimed. [Ding! Congratulations, Host! Awakening successful!] [System Mission: Max out the target Alexander Pierce’s ‘Regret Value.’ Upon completion, the Host will gain absolute freedom and the reward of her brother, Liam, awakening!] Before I could even process the joy, my phone began to ring urgently. It was the hospital. A glint appeared in my eye. This was it. My chance. I immediately put the call on speaker. “Ms. Rossi, this is my final call to inform you that the deadline for your brother’s medical bill payment has passed. The hospital has been more than patient. As per our policy, we will be forced to cease all medication and disconnect all life-sustaining equipment. Please come to the hospital to collect your brother as soon as possible.” The color drained from Alexander’s face. And I, well, I had been waiting for this exact moment. “Doctor, please, I’m begging you, just a few more days…” Then, I closed my eyes and let my body go limp, collapsing to the floor. The second before I lost consciousness, the system’s voice chimed in my head: [Ding! Target’s Regret Value +10%! Current Value: 10%.] 2 Perfect. Step one, a success. I was held securely in someone’s arms. I could hear Alexander’s voice, sharp with an urgency and a thread of panic I’d never heard before. “Isabella! Isabella!” [WHOA?! What’s happening? The ice-cold male lead sounds like he’s about to cry!] [Wait, you guys! I think she faked it! I swear I saw the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile for a second!] [Damn! A strategic retreat? Beating the damsel in distress at her own game? She stole Scarlett’s signature move!] The comments in my mind exploded with shock and awe. Alexander quickly carried me out of there. Back at his penthouse, I waited a while before slowly fluttering my eyes open. The first thing I did was struggle to get out of bed, my voice a frantic, panicked mess. “My brother… I have to get to the hospital… I have to save Liam…” Alexander pressed me back down, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Don’t move. Just rest. I’ve already had someone pay all of his outstanding bills. Your brother will be fine.” Just then, Scarlett ran in, her eyes red and puffy. She dropped to her knees by the bed, apologizing profusely. “Ms. Rossi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hold up your approval. I didn’t know today was the final deadline. I’m so, so sorry.” Alexander looked at the kneeling Scarlett, a flicker of pity in his eyes. “Get up, Scarlett. It’s not your fault.” Then he turned to me, his tone placating. “She didn’t do it on purpose. Your brother is fine now, so let’s just drop it.” I sneered internally but kept my face placid, nodding meekly. “I know. I don’t blame the secretary.” My compliance seemed to catch Alexander off guard. Then, his eyes fell on the dark bruises on my knees, a souvenir from the long hours I’d spent kneeling to massage Scarlett. [Ding! Target’s Regret Value +5%! Current Value: 15%.] A barely perceptible smile touched my lips. Over the next few days, I was more docile than ever before. Whatever Alexander asked, I did, without complaint or resistance. He showered me with expensive clothes, jewelry, and designer bags, and I accepted them all with a quiet grace, neither overly excited nor unimpressed. When he took me to social events, I was the perfect companion: poised, gentle, and never speaking out of turn. The desperate, fawning girl was gone, replaced by a woman with a calm and composed demeanor. The jealousy and hatred in Scarlett’s eyes became almost impossible for her to conceal. I watched her from the sidelines, knowing the time was almost right. The fish was about to take the bait. Sure enough, one evening, Scarlett approached me, her smile carefully manufactured. “Isabella, Mr. Pierce is at a bar downtown. He’s in a bad mood and has been drinking. He wants you to go pick him up.” I put on a look of flattered surprise and nodded eagerly. “Okay, I’ll go right away.” The bar was dimly lit and deafeningly loud, thick with the smell of smoke and stale liquor. I found the private room Scarlett had mentioned and pushed the door open. The moment I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me, the sound of a lock clicking into place echoing from the other side. [Oh no! She walked right into it! This is Scarlett’s trap!] [It’s over, Scarlett totally set her up to frame her!] [The male lead is on his way. When he sees her in a place like this, he’s going to assume she’s cheating or being promiscuous!] [Is this where the tragedy kicks in? She’s going to be wrongly accused again!] The comments in my head went into a frenzy of anxiety and worry. But I stood there, perfectly calm, even managing a cold smile. Scarlett thought she could frame me with a trick this pathetic? How naive. I calmly took out my phone and dialed a number I had saved long ago. I spoke a few quiet words, then hung up and waited. An hour later. BANG! The door was kicked open with brutal force. Alexander stormed in, his face a thundercloud. His eyes swept the room, and when he saw I was alone, a flicker of relief crossed his face. But when he noticed I was clearly tipsy, his expression hardened again. He strode over, scooped me into his arms, and carried me out, unceremoniously dumping me in the back of his car. Before I could react, he leaned over me, one hand closing around my throat. The pressure wasn’t enough to choke, but the threat was unmistakable. “Isabella, are you that pathetic? So desperate for money, so starved for attention? Isn’t latching onto me enough for you? You have to come to a place like this and whore yourself out? You disgust me!” From the passenger seat, a triumphant smile flashed across Scarlett’s face before she quickly replaced it with a look of guilt and remorse. “Alex, please don’t be angry. It’s all my fault. Isabella begged me, she said she just wanted a night out with friends, and I felt bad for her, so I said yes.” “I had no idea she would come to a place like this… It’s my fault. I should have kept a better eye on her.” Trying to pin the blame on me? Nice try, Scarlett. But this time, you seriously miscalculated. 3 I pulled a gold-leafed business card from my pocket and held it up to Alexander, my voice choked with sobs. “I’m sorry, Alex, I was wrong. I wasn’t… I wasn’t doing anything bad…” “I know you’ve been stressed about finding a celebrity spokesperson for the company’s new product line. You wanted that big star, but his team is impossible to get a meeting with.” “I heard his agent was here tonight, so I came to buy him a drink, to try and talk to him about a partnership.” “This is his card. He said he’s willing to learn more about our products.” “I messed up. I shouldn’t have hidden it from you, I shouldn’t have come here. I’m so sorry, please don’t be angry…” Alexander froze. The hand on my neck slowly loosened. The rage on his face hardened, cracking into an expression of utter disbelief. He looked down at the business card in my hand. Embossed on it was the name of the top agent in the country, the very man he had been trying and failing to get in touch with for weeks. He was stunned, his eyes a complex mix of emotions as he stared at me. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft with disbelief. “You came here… to help me with a business deal?” I nodded furiously, tears finally spilling over and splashing onto the back of his hand, warm and full of unspoken pain. “Yes… I know I’m not smart, I can’t help you with big things, but I just wanted to do something, anything, to share your burden.” “I told Scarlett I was meeting friends because I was afraid I’d fail and disappoint you. That’s why I didn’t tell you beforehand. I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.” [Ding! Target’s Regret Value +25%! Current Value: 40%.] In the front seat, the color drained from Scarlett’s face. She was trembling with fury but couldn’t utter a single word in her defense. Her carefully laid trap had not only failed to ensnare me, but it had also backfired spectacularly, making Alexander feel even more guilty and protective of me. [HOLY! What a plot twist! That was absolutely masterful!] [The damsel-in-distress heroine just evolved into a black-hearted mastermind! She’s a hundred levels above Scarlett!] [LMAO! Scarlett’s face is literally green! She tried to set a trap and ended up helping her enemy!] [This heroine is a genius! Her brain, her strategy… who could possibly outplay her?] The comments were a chorus of cheers. I hid a cold smirk, my face still a mask of fragile vulnerability. Alexander looked at my tear-reddened eyes, his heart clenching with regret. His voice softened, his attempt at comfort clumsy. “I misunderstood you. I’m sorry.” In the following weeks, Alexander treated me better than ever before. Perhaps it was guilt, or perhaps it was because I had actually managed to secure the celebrity endorsement, solving a massive problem for his company. He showered me with gifts—jewelry, luxury cars, limited-edition handbags. If I so much as glanced at something, it would be delivered to me within the hour. I accepted everything without protest and without fawning over him. I maintained a careful distance—gentle, understanding, and never demanding—which only made him more captivated. Meanwhile, Scarlett watched his growing affection for me, her jealousy festering into a madness that deepened the scheming in her eyes. She couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t accept that the prize she had held so securely in her grasp was being stolen away by his former doormat. A few days later, Alexander had to fly out of state for an urgent business matter. The moment he was gone, Scarlett showed up at the villa where I was staying. She cornered me at the top of the grand staircase. There were no servants around. Just the two of us. I saw the malice in her eyes and knew what was coming. Sure enough, the next second, Scarlett lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. Then, she threw herself backward, tumbling dramatically down the entire flight of stairs. “AHHH!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580621”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel