Author: Momo Chan

After ten years of marriage, Muriel cheated on me ninety-nine times. I never divorced her because before our wedding, she bought 100 urns. “You’ve always loved rituals. If I’m unfaithful to you after marriage, you can put the evidence in an urn.” “When all 100 boxes are used up, our marriage will be truly dead, and I’ll leave with nothing.” Later, she seemed to have forgotten about it. When she toured Provence with a popular male streamer to see the lavender fields, I put the photos taken by a private investigator into an urn. When she accompanied a rising painter on his global exhibition tour, I placed ticket stubs marked with lipstick into another box. Until our tenth wedding anniversary, she never showed up for the scheduled prenatal checkup. She went to celebrate her sponsored male student Robinson’s birthday instead. “Leonardo, I couldn’t bear to let Robinson spend his birthday alone. You’ve always been generous, so you should understand.” “After I finish celebrating with him, I’ll go to the prenatal checkup myself.” I gripped my phone, my fingertips white with pressure. “There’s only one urn left.” “How unlucky,” she said, her tone displeased. “Today is Robinson’s birthday—why are you randomly bringing up urns?” I didn’t argue further and hung up. Since she didn’t want the chance I gave her, I had no choice but to make her leave with nothing.

Muriel canceled the prenatal checkup. I wanted to ask the doctor when her next appointment was. No matter how hurt I felt, she was still the mother of our child. How could I feel at ease letting her go to checkups alone? But the doctor hesitated, then handed me an abortion surgery form. “Ms. Muriel… came this morning, but she had an abortion instead.” “She requested confidentiality, but I believe you have the right to know.” Muriel didn’t know this was a hospital under the Leonardo Group. It was nearly impossible for her to hide anything from me here. It seemed the birthday gift she gave Robinson was an abortion report. I returned home alone and numbly opened the 100th urn. With a “click.” Two documents fell out—a signed divorce agreement and a notarized statement of Muriel’s voluntary agreement to leave with nothing. Below them was a note, the handwriting youthful and spirited. [Leonardo, you’ve suffered enough. Move forward, don’t look back.] Twenty-year-old Muriel, reaching across the years, felt sorry for me. Thirty-year-old Muriel had long since given that tenderness to someone else. Expressionless, I placed the abortion surgery form inside. I closed the lid, sealing away our ten-year marriage along with it. My phone lit up with a photo from her. Fireworks blazed brilliantly in the night sky, illuminating Robinson’s gentle profile. “Don’t you love watching fireworks? Make a wish.” I looked around in silence. These were the decorations I’d prepared early for our tenth anniversary. The walls were covered with our photos together, from school uniforms to wedding dress. Balloons covered the floor, string lights wound around the entire room. But the petals had wilted and the frosting had melted. Outside the window, the fireworks lighting up half the city bloomed for someone else. I only replied: [Come home early.] Such a simple wish, but she didn’t respond. Her silence was her answer. I sat in the darkness until dawn, when she finally returned. Behind her came gift boxes that filled half the living room. A rare black diamond from Sotheby’s, a nineteenth-century oil painting I’d once lingered over, a custom Swiss watch… “Anniversary gifts. Do you like them?”

She knew I valued rituals, yet she insisted on making up for them after the fact. She always did this—casually using gifts to cover up conflicts, as if my pain didn’t matter at all. I pushed the divorce agreement toward her. “Sign it.” She paused, then a smile rippled in her eyes. “So obedient? You know I’m going to marry Robinson?” My fingertips trembled violently. She seemed oblivious, took the document, and signed her name smoothly. “He’s young and sees me as his whole world. He’s begging to marry me—I don’t want to disappoint him.” “You did well. What reward do you want? After the baby is born, we can travel as a family of three, okay?” She reached out to touch my face. I dodged calmly, my tone flat. “There won’t be a baby.” Her fingers froze, her probing gaze falling on my face. “You know how hard it was for us to have this child. Don’t say things like that anymore.” She probably thought I didn’t know the child was already gone and still had to pretend to cherish it. I laughed bitterly. I thought only I remembered. I remembered the pain and devastation when she miscarried our first child eight years ago after drinking at a business dinner with me. I remembered how I felt—guilty and lost—when the doctor said she’d have difficulty conceiving again. I remembered her day and night companionship and comfort, saying that a lifetime with just the two of us would be good too. I remembered eight years of hoping and disappointment while trying to conceive together. I remembered crying tears of joy when we finally had our second child. The vows still echoed in my ears, yet now she had thrown the child away herself. She stared at my smile and suddenly asked, “Why are you crying?” I was startled. I raised my hand and indeed felt coldness all over my face. Her expression became complicated, her tone softening. “Don’t worry, no one can replace your position in my heart.” “I’ll only hold the ceremony without getting a marriage license. Once I’ve appeased him, I’ll remarry you.” I looked at her deeply. “Didn’t you say you’d reward me? Travel with me. Let’s leave now—don’t wait for the baby to be born.” She avoided my gaze. “I still need to prepare for the wedding…” “I understand.” I nodded. I was too calm. Panic flashed in her eyes, and for once she explained: “I’m just afraid if we go now, I won’t be able to focus on you…” Before she finished speaking, her phone suddenly rang. A young man said tearfully that he woke up and couldn’t find her. Her voice immediately changed pitch as she coaxed him while walking toward the door. At the doorway, she covered the phone and tossed out “I’ll go with you next time,” then hurriedly disappeared through the entrance. The words “next time” opened up a vast distance between us. I dialed a number that had been dormant for a long time. “Dad, I want to come home.” “How about I give you the Muriel Group as a welcome-home gift?” I began packing my luggage, preparing for a farewell trip. The end of a ten-year marriage also needed a ritual. It wasn’t until I zipped up my suitcase that I saw Muriel’s message. “Robinson likes this house. Move out—I need to redecorate it as our wedding home.” My heart felt like it was being crushed by needles, pain spreading densely through it. Ten years was truly too long—so long that she’d forgotten this house was the one I bought with all my savings back then. When we got married, she had nothing. Forget buying a house—she couldn’t even afford a wedding. We only registered our marriage. I didn’t mind, but she cried more pitifully than I did, her voice shaking. “You’re giving up your comfortable life as heir to the Leonardo Group—what exactly do you see in me?” I smiled. “I see your true heart.” She buried her face in my chest and swore: “I will never betray you in this lifetime.”

At first, she would proactively send video check-ins wherever she went. She would hold me tight when I had insomnia and tell me stories all night long. As long as she was home, I never washed a single dish or cooked a single meal. When did things start to change? Questions I couldn’t figure out—I simply stopped thinking about them. Things that had gone bad—I simply discarded them. I called housekeeping to pack up and throw away all her belongings. I also changed the locks so no one but me could enter. After arranging everything, I dragged my suitcase straight to the airport. Along the way, mall screens were all broadcasting the wedding news of her and Robinson. The way she looked at him was so tender it seemed to overflow. I smiled mockingly at myself. I thought her growing coldness was the iron will and composure honed by the business world. It turned out the bright moon simply hung high, refusing to shine on me alone. Fortunately, nature embraces everyone gently. I went to East Africa to see wildebeest migrations, to Hokkaido to see falling red leaves, to New Zealand to see lupines covering the mountains. My last stop was Norway. The aurora seemed alive, moving like sprites in the night sky. In the silence, I could only hear the thundering of my own heartbeat. It turned out watching the aurora alone could also be romantic. I remembered when the company first went public, she bought a pair of diamond rings—the best she could afford at the time. When she knelt on one knee, her eyes looking up at me seemed filled with an entire galaxy. “When I have more money later, I’ll replace them with bigger diamond rings.” “Maybe I won’t be so busy then. I’ll take you to Norway to see the aurora you’ve always talked about, and give you a proper wedding trip.” “Let’s plan it for our tenth anniversary, okay?” Now, the shadow on the ground was so lonely it seemed to mock the worthlessness of her promise. I took a photo and posted it on Twitter. [Be my own light, no longer chasing anyone.] Scrolling down, I saw that Muriel, who had never posted about me once on Twitter, had posted many updates. She refused to accompany me, yet she flew around the world with Robinson. Under the Eiffel Tower, in the dusk of Prague’s Old Town Square, on Venice’s waterways… all bore the sweet couple photos of the two of them. The limited-edition Patek Philippe watch on his wrist had a sapphire-studded dial that shone blindingly. That was the heirloom collection piece she’d bought at auction last month for nine million. When interviewed by the media, she said it was a gift for her lover. I thought she would personally put it on me on our tenth anniversary, but I was just being presumptuous. The journey was coming to an end. I stopped by to inspect a hotel under the Leonardo Group. Since I’d decided to go home, I should familiarize myself with the family business in advance. When checking in, the staff bowed respectfully. “How long will Mr. Leonardo be staying? Please let us know if you need anything.” I didn’t want to alert anyone and just asked the staff to treat me normally. Even for an inspection, I wanted peace and quiet. But even this small wish was easily shattered. While walking in the garden, I saw Muriel and Robinson. Several photographers surrounded them, taking wedding photos. She carefully adjusted his tie, her every movement showing a focus I hadn’t seen in ages. So this wasn’t an ordinary trip. The wedding trip she promised me—she gave it to someone else. Seeing me, Muriel instinctively frowned. “I said I’d go with you next time. Why did you follow us here?” “We’re already divorced. Mind your boundaries.” Before I could speak, Robinson tugged on her sleeve, drawing out his voice. “Muriel, don’t be so fierce.” “I happen to be having trouble choosing my next groom’s outfit. Why don’t you let Leonardo help me pick?”

Her expression softened slightly, and she nodded. “That’s fine. His taste is decent.” When the design sketches were handed over, my hand shook and I almost couldn’t hold the tablet. Both tailcoats were designs I’d made in my youth. Back then, we’d only been together a short while. I still had a young man’s mind, fantasizing about everything every day. Fantasizing about the wedding, the wedding dress, life after marriage. When my family discovered our relationship, my status-conscious parents firmly opposed it. They never imagined that their always obedient and well-behaved son would dare to run away from home for a girl with no parents. But they didn’t understand. She would write me an entire book of love poems. She would point at classmates who made dirty jokes about me and curse them out. She would save three months’ wages to buy me shoes I’d mentioned in passing. She would fight alone, in high heels and a skirt, covered in blood, when I nearly got kidnapped while drunk. The doctor said if the knife wound on her chest had been an inch deeper, even the gods couldn’t have saved her. The young girl’s love was intense, burning so hot I fell for her helplessly. My parents were utterly disappointed and publicly announced they were disowning me, cutting off all my financial support. Later we were busy making money, busy surviving. When the business took off, she was busy cheating and I was busy catching her in the act. Back and forth, the wedding we’d promised kept getting postponed. Those two design sketches were also shelved, becoming unresolved regrets. Now they’d become wedding clothes she was giving someone else. I looked into her eyes. “Muriel, these are the tailcoats I designed.” She paused, then raised an eyebrow. “Name your price.” My nails dug into my palms, my voice hoarse. “They’re different.” “What’s so special about them?” She put her hands in her pockets, her tone impatient. “If Robinson didn’t like them, they’d just be two pieces of waste paper.” I suddenly laughed. I didn’t know her memory was so poor. She’d forgotten all the promises, wishes, and love. All these years of bright lights and wine, money and pleasure—like a master thief. Stealing away the Muriel whose heart and eyes were full of me. “Please don’t fight over me…” Robinson’s eyes reddened. Muriel panicked, about to comfort him, when she suddenly covered her mouth, her face turning pale. “Ugh!” I froze, a chill rising within me. This was a sign of pregnancy—I knew it all too well. But ever since the abortion, she’d been with Robinson the whole time. Whose child this was couldn’t be clearer. Sure enough, Robinson’s expression changed instantly. He skillfully opened a thermos and fed her water. “Are you tired?” He gently stroked her slightly rounded belly. “Muriel, let’s stop shooting, okay? You and Niland both need rest.” He carefully picked her up and quickly left without giving me a single glance. I stood frozen in place, thunderstruck. Niland—that was the name of our first child. After she miscarried that year, I was consumed with guilt, hating myself for not protecting her and the child. I couldn’t sleep day or night and nearly became depressed. Yet she casually gave this name to another man’s child. Life was truly absurd. The staff noticed my distress and asked tentatively, “Mr. Leonardo, should we blacklist them from the hotel?” I took a deep breath. “No need.” Let them enjoy the last glimmer of light before dawn.

When the journey ended and I returned home, the lock was intact. Muriel was too busy accompanying her new lover around the world to even think about the “wedding home.” I laughed somewhat mockingly. As I laughed, my throat tightened. I remembered how she once broke into my family home and knelt before my parents. “Please let me be with Leonardo.” “Unless I die, I will never betray him.” My parents didn’t believe her. I did. I betrayed everything and did everything I could to build a home with her. Every single thing in this house was something we’d acquired together with our own hands. The floor mat from the secondhand market, the TV stand I built myself, the sofa blanket she crocheted stitch by stitch. Later when we had money, we still didn’t move. I firmly believed that when she said “forever,” she meant forever. Turns out she didn’t. Her devoted heart had weathered and corroded over the years. When finally pried open, it was completely rotten inside. Disgust suddenly surged up within me. I immediately contacted a realtor to sell the house. I packed up those 100 urns and mailed them away. Everything else was completely cleared out too. After doing all this, I dragged my suitcase and left. When I looked back one last time, I thought I would feel reluctant. But when it came down to it, all I felt in my heart was relief. I moved into my own hotel and began contacting lawyers to discuss the division of assets. During this time, Muriel’s messages bombarded me. “Why did you sell the house?” “Where can you go by yourself?” “Stop throwing a tantrum. You have no family, no friends. You’re not comfortable living outside, are you?” “Come to the villa in the south side of town. You and Robinson can keep each other company. I’ll treat you both well.” I didn’t reply to a single message. After arranging everything, I went to the church. It was quite regrettable, really. Our first child was lost by accident. Our second child was also abandoned by its biological mother. Perhaps in this lifetime, I was simply not meant to be a father. I wanted to light a new candle for our first child and set up a candleholder for our second child as well. But when I got to the church, I discovered that Niland’s candleholder was gone. The priest told me it had been removed by Muriel. My heart felt like it had a huge hole torn in it, with wind howling through, so cold my whole body trembled. When I first lost Niland, I couldn’t eat or sleep. I even cut my wrists. It wasn’t until the candleholder was lit that she told me this way Niland could have complete blessings. She also said that for the child to be at peace, the father must be safe. Only then did I put down the knife and try to keep living. But she personally extinguished the candleholder. I walked out of the church in a daze. Looking up, I saw Robinson supporting Muriel, whose belly was slightly rounded. “Muriel, thank you for bringing me and the baby here for blessings.” She gently stroked her belly, her gaze tender. “Thank me for what? You’re my lover, and Niland is our child. Of course I want you both to be safe and happy for life.” Niland—she still dared to speak that name. I rushed forward and slapped her hard across the face. She was first stunned, then immediately shielded Robinson behind her. “Leonardo, what’s wrong with you? I’m still carrying our child!” “Our child? Muriel, have you no shame?” I said through gritted teeth, desperately suppressing my body’s trembling. “It’s bad enough you aborted our second child, but why did you remove Niland’s candleholder?” She froze, her eyes evasive. “You… you know everything?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “398150”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My wife Hathaway went through countless hardships and finally gave birth to our son. Mother and child were both safe. It should have been a joyous occasion for everyone. But the more I looked at the son in my arms, the more I felt he looked exactly like Hathaway’s first love. I originally thought I was just being overly sensitive and suspicious. However, as time passed, our son looked more and more like Hathaway’s first love. You could almost say they were cut from the same mold. But the genetic test report proved that this child was biologically mine. Every time I saw my son’s face that looked so much like another man, it was like a thorn stabbing into my heart. On the day of our son’s 100-day celebration, I finally couldn’t take it anymore and publicly asked Hathaway for a divorce. The entire venue erupted in shock. Hathaway, who was bending down to wipe our son’s mouth, froze. She looked at me in disbelief: “Why?” I pointed coldly at the child beside her: “Don’t you think his appearance and expressions look exactly like your dead first love?” Hathaway frowned: “Just because of this, you want to divorce me?” I nodded. “Yes, just because of this.”

Hathaway suddenly straightened up and threw the wet wipe in her hand viciously at my face: “Larson! Has a door smashed your brain in?” “Bridges is your son!” “Newborn babies all look pretty similar. You’ve seen the DNA test report yourself, haven’t you? What exactly are you still suspicious about?” I expressionlessly removed the wet wipe stuck to my face: “There’s nothing more to say. Tomorrow morning at ten, I’ll wait for you at the City Hall entrance.” My attitude toward divorce was unusually resolute. Hathaway’s eyes instantly reddened. “Larson, why exactly do you insist on divorcing me?” “We love each other so much. I don’t believe you really want to divorce me.” “Have you run into some kind of trouble? Tell me, we can figure out a solution together.” Hathaway’s voice choked with emotion as she cried and reached to grab my hand. But I pushed her away in disgust: “Don’t you know the reason yourself?” If this were any other time, seeing Hathaway cry, I probably would have already pulled her into my arms with heartache. But now, seeing Hathaway’s tears, I felt no heartache at all. I only felt full of disgust. Everyone looked at me with condemning eyes. “Larson, are you sick or something?” “How exactly has Hathaway wronged you that you have to humiliate her in front of so many people?” My mother-in-law Nasser hugged Hathaway protectively and pointed at my nose, cursing angrily. “Back then, she didn’t mind that you were dirt poor and insisted on marrying you. To give birth to your child, she had a difficult delivery and hemorrhaged badly, nearly dying along with the baby. Have you forgotten all of that?” “Even if the child looks somewhat like Hughes, what does that prove? Doesn’t the paternity test clearly state that the kinship probability between Bridges and you is 99.99%?” Hughes’ twin sister Arroyo also stepped forward, pointing at me with an indignant expression: “Hughes has been dead for three years. Are you jealous of even a dead person?” All the relatives and friends at the venue nodded in agreement with Nasser and Hughes’ sister’s words. “Exactly, exactly. Being jealous of a dead person—is this even human?” “Hathaway risked death to give birth to his child, yet he’s suspicious every day. He wants a divorce over this little thing. He’s truly ungrateful.” “Bah! A man like him doesn’t deserve a wife and child. He should die alone!” “Hathaway must have been blind to marry such a man who’s worse than an animal.” For a moment, everyone righteously condemned me. “Larson, I really didn’t betray you. Why won’t you believe me?” Hathaway’s tears came instantly, falling nonstop like pearls whose string had broken. Seeing Hathaway cry so sadly, my father walked over with a stern face: “Larson, you’ve really gone too far this time.” “Since you married Hathaway, we’ve all seen how much she’s contributed to this family.” “Back when your mother was bedridden with illness, she bustled about at your mother’s bedside, dealing with bedpans and urine. Have you forgotten all of that?” “If you really get divorced, you won’t be able to find such a good wife even if you search with a lantern!” “Besides, the paternity test has been done. How could it be fake? If you don’t acknowledge Bridges, we will.” My mother even held Hathaway’s hand with heartache: “Hathaway, don’t worry. If Larson dares to divorce you, I won’t recognize him as my son.” My own biological parents had spoken, even threatening me with disowning me. Yet I remained unmoved: “I’m grateful for Hathaway’s contributions to the family, but that doesn’t prevent me from divorcing her.” The atmosphere at the scene instantly froze like ice. Hathaway’s eyes were red and swollen from crying, and her eyes looking at me were full of grievance. “Larson, I can explain about Bridges’ appearance.” “You must have heard of telegony, right?”

Seeing that I didn’t speak, Hathaway continued choking with emotion: “As long as a woman has had relations with a man, the man’s genes will remain in the woman’s body and be passed on to the next generation. No matter who the woman eventually marries, the children she bears will inevitably carry genes from her ex-boyfriend.” “So the reason Bridges looks like Hughes must be because he indirectly inherited his genes, but Bridges really is your child.” I laughed coldly, my gaze icy: “Telegony?” “Hathaway, was your biology taught by a gym teacher, or are you treating me like an idiot?” “If you’d just directly admit you cheated, I’d think more highly of you. Telegony—do you even believe such an absurd claim yourself?” “Of course I believe it.” Hathaway’s tone became somewhat urgent: “Telegony is real. It’s been scientifically proven.” To prove her innocence, Hathaway even pulled out several cherry-picked articles from her phone. “Take that away. You think you can fool me with a few random articles?” She shoved the phone in my face, but I didn’t even look. “Tell the truth. Do you have someone else on the side, which is why you’re desperately making excuses to divorce me?” Seeing me remain unmoved throughout, Hathaway looked at me suspiciously with reddened eyes, sizing me up and down. “What? The thief crying ‘thief!’” “To get a divorce, he’ll stop at nothing. He’s even willing to throw dirty water on his own wife. This is too shameless.” In an instant, the entire banquet hall exploded. Everyone’s eyes looking at me changed, as if I really were some irredeemable scumbag. Everyone self-righteously cursed me as a heartless man. “Larson, you’re an ungrateful bastard!” “Wasted all these years Hathaway devoted her heart and soul to you.” “Touch your conscience. Are you worthy of Hathaway?” Nasser’s voice was shrill and piercing as she slapped me across the face. Her sharp nails left several obvious bloody scratches on my face. “Larson, Hathaway must have been blind to marry a man worse than an animal like you!” “Not only did you cheat, but you have the audacity to demand a divorce?” Arroyo jumped out again, pointing at my nose and cursing. I sneered. “Who the hell are you? Our marital affairs—when is it your turn to butt in?” “You!” “Bastard!” Arroyo immediately tried to rush over and hit me but was held back tightly by Hathaway. “Hit him, hit him, beat this shameless scumbag to death!” The scene descended into chaos. The situation had developed into a complete farce. The face of Hathaway’s family was completely lost. “Hmph! I never expected you to be this kind of person.” “Originally I was planning to hand over all the family businesses to you in a couple of years. I misjudged you.” “Divorce, divorce immediately. Hathaway doesn’t need you.” My father-in-law Johnson, who had remained silent until now, finally couldn’t help but shout at me angrily. “No, I won’t divorce. I don’t want a divorce.” Hathaway shook her head crying: “Larson, as long as you promise to break it off with that woman outside, I can give you another chance. From now on we’ll live a good life together.” Hathaway leaned in Arroyo’s arms, crying uncontrollably. That humble attitude made my unreasonableness all the more apparent. Everyone cursed me for not knowing what was good for me. “Really living too comfortably, looking for trouble when there isn’t any!” “Where would you find such a good wife as Hathaway?” Watching Hathaway’s pretense, I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to explain, and I didn’t want to waste any more time or breath on them. “Think whatever you want. In any case, I’m definitely getting this divorce.” “Tomorrow morning at ten, I’ll wait for you at the City Hall entrance.” “If you don’t come, then we’ll see each other in court.”

Hathaway’s attempts to reconcile didn’t soften my heart. My attitude toward divorce remained resolute. The farce before him made Johnson feel utterly humiliated. “Enough! We don’t need such an ungrateful son-in-law.” “Divorce is fine, but you must leave with nothing.” “Don’t forget, back when you were dirt poor, it was my family’s full support and cultivation that gave you your current status.” “I’d like to see if you can still get by after leaving my family.” Johnson, who had been pretending to be virtuous all along, finally tore off his disguise and revealed his true face. Everyone was certain I would compromise and choose to bow my head and apologize. After all, everyone believed what Johnson said was the truth. But they didn’t know that all along, countless multinational companies had offered me high salaries, but I had given up those opportunities again and again for Hathaway’s sake. Johnson thought he could control me, but he didn’t expect that I simply didn’t care. “Whether I can get by or not is my business. No need for Mr. Johnson to worry.” With that, I turned and strode away without looking back. Even after I’d gone far, I could still faintly hear Hathaway’s heart-wrenching screams, along with Johnson and Nasser’s hysterical cursing. Outside the banquet hall, my lawyer was already waiting for me. He handed me the divorce agreement prepared in advance along with a stack of documents. I didn’t immediately look through them but first lit a cigarette. Only after the cigarette had burned down and my heart had returned to calm did I slowly open the envelope. Flipping through page by page, I actually didn’t feel the anger I’d expected. Only the calm certainty that things were exactly as I’d thought. That same day, I moved out of the villa and into an apartment near the company. At the same time, I had my lawyer print out the divorce agreement and send it via courier to Hathaway. Who knew—Hathaway didn’t even look at it before tearing the divorce agreement to shreds. “Larson, I told you, I won’t divorce you. No matter how many you send, it’s useless. Send one, I’ll tear one.” On the phone, Hathaway’s tone carried a hint of smugness. She seemed to think she had a winning hand, certain I couldn’t produce solid evidence and would ultimately have to compromise with her. And what happened at the 100-day celebration was captured on video by someone with ulterior motives and posted online. Things escalated quickly. In less than a day, it had already spread across the internet, causing a storm throughout the city that everyone knew about. And Hathaway used public opinion to portray herself as a pitiful mother who was groundlessly suspected and abandoned by her husband. She posted on social media: “Some men are incompetent themselves, yet blame it on the ‘scientific miracle’ of telegony.” This post caused an uproar. Netizens who didn’t know the truth all stood on Hathaway’s side to judge me. The comments section was full of people calling me a scumbag, with some even threatening to punish me. Not only was my information exposed all over the internet, but even my parents were implicated. I had no choice but to send them abroad overnight. The public opinion uproar intensified. Hathaway contacted me again: “Larson, I told you, telegony really exists.” “Take me for example. I myself am such an example.” “Since childhood, I haven’t looked like my dad. Instead, I look like my mom’s ex-boyfriend.” I was directly speechless. It seemed the Hathaway father and daughter had been successfully brainwashed by Nasser.

“I’m giving you one last chance. As long as you change your mind, I’ll take down the trending topic and act like nothing happened.” “From now on you’ll still be my husband, Bridges’ father, and our family of three will still be a loving family.” Hathaway’s tone was haughty, as if she were bestowing charity. I clutched the envelope of documents in my hand, a cold smile curling at the corner of my mouth. The more Hathaway emphasized “telegony,” the more she was pushing herself toward a dead end. She thought it was her shield, but little did she know, it was also her death warrant. “Hathaway, I’ll say it again—stop talking to me about this bullshit telegony. It only makes me think you’re an idiot.” Hathaway was furious: “Ungrateful!” “Larson, let me tell you, if we really get divorced, you can forget about ever seeing your son again.” With that, Hathaway forcefully hung up the phone. Hathaway refused to agree to a divorce. I had wanted to file for divorce in court, but unexpectedly, Hathaway moved faster. She sued me in court on grounds of marital infidelity. On the day of the hearing, all of Hathaway’s family relatives and friends came, including some media reporters who had caught wind of it. The vast crowd filled the gallery seats. They were all there to cheer Hathaway on. Hathaway was dressed to the nines today, with Arroyo following closely behind as her close friend. When passing by me, Hathaway stopped: “Larson, you’d better think carefully. After the divorce, you’ll have nothing.” “I’m giving you one last chance. As long as you bow your head and admit you were being unreasonable, I’ll forgive you.” Hathaway spoke in a high and mighty, charitable tone. “Forgive?” I smiled. “Sorry, but I don’t need your forgiveness.” Hathaway’s face darkened. Her sinister eyes stared at me fixedly: “Let’s see how long you can be stubborn. I’m waiting for you to cry and beg me like a dog in a moment.” The trial officially began. Hathaway first presented evidence of my infidelity to the court: Hundreds of intimate photos of me with different women, explicit enough to rival adult films. But I didn’t recognize any of these women. After reviewing them, the judge nodded. “Defendant, while the telegony theory cannot serve as direct evidence, the plaintiff has provided two paternity tests from different institutions, both proving that the child born during your marriage has a parent-child relationship with you.” “Given the solid evidence of your infidelity to your family, if you cannot provide new evidence, this court will determine you to be the party at fault based on the existing facts.” Hathaway and Arroyo exchanged glances and smiled, the corners of their mouths turning up in a confident arc. But I remained calm and smiled faintly. Just as the judge was about to bring down the gavel, I slowly raised the envelope in my hand: “I have evidence!” “I have evidence to prove that Hathaway committed adultery during our marriage and is the party at fault.” “Bridges is also not my biological child. I request that the court immediately grant the divorce and require Hathaway to leave with nothing.” The gallery erupted in shock. “The judge has acknowledged the paternity test results. The child is Larson’s. Why is Larson still clinging to this?” “Does this guy have some kind of special fetish or something?” Everyone pointed at me and whispered among themselves. Only Hathaway’s face changed dramatically after seeing what was in my hands. I looked at her, a mocking smile curling at my lips. Hathaway, since you keep proclaiming the “telegony” theory. Then let’s see if the truth really is as you say!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “398149”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On the day of my engagement to Samuel, the wealthiest man in the country, my mother grabbed the microphone in front of everyone and said: “Actually, my daughter used to be a stripper.” I looked at her in disbelief. But Samuel pulled me behind him: “Don’t make jokes like that anymore.” Afterwards, my mother apologized to me: “I just wanted to see if he was sincere about you.” But the night before the wedding, I passed out after drinking the milk my mother handed me. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself naked, lying in bed with Emilia’s boyfriend—my adopted sister. When Samuel saw this scene, his eyes immediately reddened: “So your mother wasn’t lying after all.” Emilia also cried and slapped her boyfriend: “How could you do this to me!” In the end, Emilia became Samuel’s bride. Emilia’s boyfriend cursed at me: “I’ve never seen a woman as shameless as you!” I looked at my mother through my tears. But she said coldly: “Emilia is more suitable to be the wife of the wealthiest man than you.” Twenty years later, the new generation’s wealthiest man brought his girlfriend to meet me: “Mom, if you’re satisfied with her, we’ll get engaged.” I looked at that face that was identical to my sister’s and said: “I’m not satisfied.”

Everyone attending the banquet froze for a moment. I hadn’t expected that the girlfriend my son brought home would be Emilia’s child, Juliet Samuel. Juliet Samuel was an outstanding graduate of Berklee College of Music. She was both sexy and sweet. Her father was the former wealthiest man, Samuel. Even my son Giovanni was stunned. “Mom… when I mentioned Juliet to you before, didn’t you really like her?” “I’d never met her before. Now I have.” Everyone stirred restlessly. After all, Juliet Samuel’s face was a perfect copy of her mother’s. At Berklee, she had even been the beauty pageant champion. Juliet Samuel had never been rejected like this before. Her face flushed red: “Is it my manners? Or my outfit? Or something else? Just tell me directly, and I’ll change!” “You don’t need to change.” I took a sip of tea: “You will never be able to marry my son in this lifetime.” “Ms. Christian.” Someone couldn’t hold back: “You may not have heard of Juliet’s grandmother. “She’s a philanthropist known both domestically and internationally, and has helped many people.” “That’s right. Her grandmother raised this child very well. You don’t need to worry about character issues.” Ha. So my mother even cared this much about Emilia’s child? Giovanni also looked at me curiously: “Mom… did Juliet do something wrong?” “It has nothing to do with that.” I said flatly. Juliet Samuel grew anxious: “Why! “Why won’t you let me into your family! “If there’s something wrong with me, just say it! Just saying no without explanation, I… I…” I looked at her: “You what?” “I won’t accept this!” I narrowed my eyes: “I am the sole head of Christian Group. For my daughter-in-law, if I don’t choose you, do I need to submit a report to you?” “You!” Juliet Samuel covered her mouth, turned and ran out of the room. She slammed the door hard. I continued drinking my tea calmly. The banquet continued. No one would cross me on my territory. Giovanni, raised by my own hand, had always respected my opinions: “Mom, if she offended you in the past, don’t keep it bottled up. Be careful not to harm your health.”

I smiled without saying anything. But near the end of the banquet, the door was opened: “Excuse me, who is Christian!” Twenty years ago, I cut ties with my family and gave myself a new name. Emilia was still the same as twenty years ago. Only her waist-length hair was now pinned up behind her head, and her face had gained the charm of a middle-aged woman. Seeing me, she froze in place for a moment. A few seconds later, she smiled: “Giovanni’s mother is actually you?” I didn’t answer. “Christian.” Emilia’s eyes filled with sarcasm: “They all say you haven’t married in twenty years, yet… you actually have a child?” “Does Ms. Emilia have business here?” Emilia finally remembered the purpose of her visit, and her gaze turned colder: “Juliet has been crying ever since she got home.” “Oh.” “Don’t you think you’re being shameless?” “Hmm?” Emilia stared at me: “Can’t compete with me, so you target an innocent child!” I smiled without speaking. “Christian.” Emilia said coldly: “Don’t think that being the mother of the wealthiest man means you can do whatever you want. “Don’t forget, my husband was also once the wealthiest man. “And Juliet’s grandmother, my mother, is renowned both domestically and internationally.” I sat calmly in the main seat: “So what? “Your family wants to interfere with other people’s marriage affairs?” “I…” Emilia clutched her purse tightly: “I just want to remind you, don’t go too far!” “Barging into my banquet and forcing me to accept your daughter.” My eyes turned cold: “Who exactly is going too far?” Emilia bit her lip. She was used to getting her way. Everyone would give her some face because of Samuel and my mother. But it didn’t work on me. I gave the security guards a look, and immediately someone came forward to grab her arms. “Christian, you dare have people treat me like this!” Emilia panicked. I didn’t look up. For the first time, Emilia was escorted out in such an awkward manner, with security guards on both sides holding her arms. “Christian! You’re going too far! You’re being unreasonable!!” The door closed, blocking out her voice. I wiped my mouth, stood up, and bowed to everyone: “I apologize for disturbing everyone’s enjoyment. “I’ve prepared some modest gifts for everyone. Ask the butler for them when you leave. “I hope you all have a pleasant time.” After saying this, I turned and left. Giovanni followed me out. The next day, just as I woke up, someone was asking to see me at the gate. The door opened, and Samuel and I locked eyes. It had been exactly twenty years since we last met. “I’m here for them, mother and daughter.” Samuel got straight to the point. He looked at the decor of my manor, his eyes showing some emotion: “All these years, you’ve built all this from scratch step by step?” I said flatly: “Would anyone else help me?” His gaze fell on me, and he sighed softly: “About what happened back then, I was also somewhat impulsive.” “So who exactly is Mr. Samuel here for?” Samuel’s breath caught. The little girl who used to hold his arm and call him “darling” would now speak back to him without hesitation. Samuel sighed: “Those two, mother and daughter, have been spoiled by me. “You know, Mom and I both dote on them.

“You were unreasonable yesterday, and those two haven’t eaten much since then.” “Unreasonable?” I put down my coffee cup and stared into his eyes: “Mr. Samuel, do I no longer even have the right to manage my own family affairs?” “It’s not that…” Samuel paused slightly: “It’s just that anyone with eyes can see. “You’re clearly seeking revenge.” I smiled: “If you must put it that way, then, I admit it.” “But in the end, don’t you just hate that I didn’t marry you back then?” Samuel grew anxious: “What happened back then can’t be undone. “Even if you want revenge, you should come after me, not make things difficult for those two innocent mother and daughter! “Just say it, what compensation do you want. “As long as you let Juliet marry Giovanni, I’ll give you my entire fortune. No problem!” I looked at the man before me with some surprise, then suddenly smiled: “Samuel, you built everything from scratch.” He paused, sighed, and turned his head away. “You swore you’d never let yourself live in hardship again. “What now? You don’t even care about your life and fortune? All for them?” Samuel sighed again: “They’re more important than wealth.” My smile turned bitter. Once, he had said those words to me too. I still had him escorted out. As he left, he kept turning back: “Can’t we discuss this again? “I’m serious about compensating you.” “Christian, please.” “They’re really heartbroken.” I looked out the window. But what about me, who knelt on the ground crying and saying I was framed all those years ago? However, not long after Samuel left, someone else wanted to see me. The moment the door opened, both of us froze slightly. Alex. The one who had been lying with me that night—Emilia’s boyfriend. All these years, he had believed I was the one who drugged him. And for these twenty years, he, like me, had never married. “I didn’t expect you would come too.” I spoke. Alex sat down across from me. He looked at my home with a complex expression, then looked at me and said: “I didn’t expect you to be so persistent.” “Hmm?” “Giovanni, I only found out yesterday that he’s your child.” I said nothing. “About that night?” he asked. I knew he was talking about the night my mother had set us both up. I shook my head. He sighed: “You don’t need to deny it. I understand everything.” “I really didn’t.” He looked at me, somewhat helpless: “Indeed, you’ve always been stubborn. “But you should know, I’ve been single all these years for a reason.” I drank my coffee without speaking. “Making things difficult for those two, mother and daughter—honestly, it’s a bit much.” “Even you want to interfere with my family affairs?” I gave him a cold look. He sighed: “Christian. “Strictly speaking, Giovanni is my child. “This is also my family affair.” “I told you he’s not your child.” Alex looked at me: “Christian, I have eyes. “That boy looks like me.” I found it ridiculous: Alex was the rugged, handsome type. So was Giovanni. “The boy has the same style as Mr. Alex. “But Mr. Alex isn’t the only one with that style. “Mr. Alex, you’re really overthinking this.”

Alex sighed: “Fine. I admit defeat. I can marry you.” I froze. He looked at me: “Christian, if that’s your goal, then I can accept it. “We can go get our marriage license right now. What do you think?” I was left speechless for a moment. “Although my heart most likely still won’t be able to focus on you, I will do my best to fulfill a husband’s responsibilities.” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Show him out.” “Christian!” Alex frowned: “Must you make things difficult for Emilia, make things difficult for Juliet!” I stared at him coldly: “Show him out!” Alex was escorted out by my people with a look of disbelief. I pinched the bridge of my nose: “If anyone else comes to see me, have them leave directly!” But the next day, my subordinate came to report: “Ms. Christian, there’s a visitor outside who insists on seeing you. “She says she’s your mother.” After more than twenty years, my mother still looked at me with the same cold indifference. Upon entering, she first looked around at my home environment. She sneered: “These twenty years, you’ve really held onto that grudge.” “If you have something to say, say it directly.” My mother looked at me: “Lying low for twenty years, all for today, right?” I frowned. She stepped forward: “You’re my daughter. “I understand you resent me.” After saying this, she stood in front of me and knelt down straight. I stared at her in shock: “Mom?” “If it will help you calm down, I can kneel before you. “Christian.” She looked at me: “I’ve always missed you.” My outstretched hand froze in midair. She stared straight at me with her eyes: “What happened back then was all my choice. “I won’t regret it, but I will take responsibility. “I apologize to you.” I looked at her with a bitter smile: “For Emilia, you can actually go this far.” “Yes.” My outstretched hand slowly withdrew: “Mom, I have a question I’ve never understood. “Can you answer me?” “What?” “Why can you be a philanthropist renowned domestically and internationally, helping so many poor children.” My voice choked slightly: “But you’re the only one unwilling to treat me fairly?” Mom froze. I looked at her with red eyes: “I even secretly did a paternity test. “I’m also your child, aren’t I?” Mom lowered her head. “Mom, say something.” “I’m sorry.” She looked at me, her eyes extremely resolute: “But I don’t want Emilia to be unhappy.” I smiled. Just because she didn’t want Emilia to be unhappy, I had to be unhappy? My smile was full of mockery: “Please get up. “I can’t forgive anyone.” “Christian!” I didn’t speak. “Christian…” She was almost pleading. I stood by the window: “Show her out.” Mom looked at me with red eyes, her sorrow gradually turning to bitterness. Finally, it became dissatisfaction, even resentment. She slammed the door on her way out. I stood by the window watching her retreating figure. I instructed: “Organize a matchmaking event for Giovanni. No restrictions on wealth. Anyone with good character and appropriate age can attend. Except for Juliet Samuel.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “398148”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

In the second year of my contract marriage to Ethan Wheeler, he terminated the agreement early. On the anniversary of my mother’s death, I accompanied aunt Lily to visit her grave. Ethan stood at the far end of the cemetery, holding an umbrella for another woman. Aunt Lily followed my gaze and sneered, tapping my forehead with her finger. “I told you to hold onto him back then, but you insisted on clinging to your pathetic pride.” “Look at you now. Divorced, childless, and you didn’t even keep the man. Who’s going to marry you after this?” I looked at my mother’s photo on the tombstone, my voice barely audible. “It’s fine.” “He was never mine to begin with.” I didn’t tell aunt Lily that I had tried to keep Ethan. The night before the contract ended, I stood at his study door in my thin nightgown. My lower abdomen still ached. I pressed my hand there, my voice hoarse. “Ethan, can we not get divorced?” Ethan stopped typing. The room fell silent for a long time. He saw my tears. He knew what I’d just lost. But that moment of vulnerability wasn’t enough to change his mind. After a long pause, he closed his file, his tone indifferent. “Serena Hart, getting too invested is the biggest taboo in a contractual arrangement.” “Leave with some dignity.” “Don’t make me take back even the last bit of sympathy I have for you.” Only later did Ethan realize, too late, that when I asked “can we not get divorced,” it was the only chance he’d ever have to keep me.

“Ms. Hart, this is your Relationship Remnant Liquidation Confirmation Form. Please sign here.” I’d just returned from the cemetery when assistant Chloe stood in the entryway of Skyridge Manor, handing me a folder. The access code had already been deactivated. I’d had to register at the security office and wait for Chloe’s confirmation before being allowed inside. The liquidation supervisor nodded at me and opened the checklist. “Ms. Hart, your items are divided into three categories.” “Category One: Marriage Display Items.” He pointed to a gray plastic bin in the center of the living room. “Wedding photos, rings, formal gowns, jewelry worn at public events—retention period expired, classified as assets pending destruction.” A red barcode label was stuck on the bin: PENDING DESTRUCTION. I looked at the wedding photo inside. In the picture, Ethan stood beside me in a black suit, his expression cold and distant. I had smiled so carefully that day. Because the photographer had said the bride could move a little closer. I’d just shifted half a step toward him when Ethan reminded me in a low voice: “Serena Hart, just cooperate for the camera. Don’t cross the line.” I’d thought I smiled gracefully that day. Now I could see I’d looked desperate to please. I’d been caught in the rain. My lower abdomen throbbed with a sinking pain. I endured it and asked: “What about the second category?” The supervisor continued reading: “Category Two: Non-Essential Traces of Cohabitation. Including bunny slippers, handwritten medication notes, study repair tools, tableware, etc.” He picked up a sealed bag. Inside were the stomach medication labels I’d made for Ethan. One early morning. Ethan had stomach pain so severe his face turned pale. I searched through the medicine cabinet and knelt by the sofa to pour him water. He kept his eyes closed, his voice low. “Don’t bother. Call the doctor.” I’d smiled and said: “Mr. Wheeler still needs to stay alive until the doctor arrives.” He’d glanced at me briefly. But I remembered that glance for a long time. What I’d taken as the beginning of feelings had only been a risk assessment for him. “What about the third category?” The supervisor paused. “Pregnancy Medical Remnants Archive.” My fingers stiffened. He continued: “Ultrasound results, prenatal checkup records, miscarriage records, post-procedure medication lists. The system has determined that these materials may trigger subsequent emotional disputes and unnecessary complications. We need your confirmation on whether to have them sealed by Wheeler Medical or destroyed.” I stood there, unable to speak for a long time. They even called the child who never got to be born “medical remnants.” The door opened at that moment. Ethan walked in, bringing the scent of rain with him. He swept a glance around the living room, his gaze landing on my trembling shoulders. “Why did you get so soaked?” He turned to Chloe. “Get a hot towel.” Chloe returned quickly. Ethan took the towel, walked over to me, and draped it over my shoulders. My eyes suddenly burned with unshed tears. He was always like this. He could remember that I got cold easily, remember my stomach problems, remember all my little ailments. But he could never remember that my heart could hurt too. The liquidation supervisor approached, holding up the box of stomach medication. “Mr. Wheeler, should this old medication and the handwritten labels be destroyed?” Ethan glanced at it, barely pausing. “Keep the medication. She only takes this brand for stomach pain—anything else makes her throw up.” My heart clenched violently. He still remembered. I looked up at him. Ethan saw the look in my eyes. The next second, his expression cooled. “It was in the medical records.” He adjusted the towel on my shoulders, his voice steady. “Finishing the liquidation quickly is better for both of us.” Last night, I’d stood outside his study begging him not to divorce me. Today, that study stood wide open. Inside, it was so clean it looked like I’d never existed. The supervisor handed me a pen. “Ms. Hart, regarding these relationship remnants, what is your decision?” I bent down and retrieved my mother’s old repair kit from the corner. I didn’t look at any of the notes, the rings, or the wedding photos again. I looked up at Ethan. “Destroy them.” Something flickered in Ethan’s eyes. I smiled slightly. “Since they’re all risk remnants anyway, there’s no point keeping them.”

At eight o’clock the next morning, Chloe’s call came right on schedule. “Ms. Hart, to reclaim usage rights for the restoration studio, you must attend today’s separation meeting.” The restoration studio my mother left behind was the last thing I had. Two years ago, when my mother was gravely ill, she suddenly called me to her bedside and handed me a contract. “Serena, sign this. After this, no one will dare touch you.” I looked at Ethan Wheeler’s name on the contract, completely confused. What was my mother’s relationship with the Wheeler family? What did she trade to secure all this? She didn’t say anything. I only knew the basic terms: Receive the Wheeler family’s protection network as Ethan Wheeler’s wife, then divorce after two years. After the divorce, Ethan Wheeler would pay compensation sufficient for my independent living. During the contract period, neither party could engage in intimate relations. Two years. When the marriage term ended, we would part ways. I asked her why. She just looked at me, deep exhaustion in her eyes. “Don’t ask anymore. Promise me.” When I signed, I thought I was clearheaded. Only later did I learn that the person who falls in love first is the biggest fool in any contract. At ten in the morning, I pushed open the door to the top-floor conference room at Wheeler headquarters. Three auditors sat at the long table. Ethan sat at the head. To his right was Paige Sinclair, Wheeler’s Chief Risk Officer. The woman he’d held an umbrella for. Paige wore a cold white suit and spoke with disdain. “Ms. Hart, please sit.” “This is just separation protocol. No need to be nervous.” I sat down. In front of me lay a thick document. “Serena Hart Relationship Termination Risk Assessment and Separation Report.” The auditor opened the file. “Mr. Wheeler, this month’s monitoring shows Ms. Hart’s emotional dependency index spiked three times.” “Does she currently meet the standard for complete separation?” My heart grew colder bit by bit. Their discussion treated me like a project awaiting transfer and disposal. I turned to look at Ethan. He wore a dark gray suit, his expression calm, fingers resting on the table. Paige flipped open the report, her voice merciless. “Let me add something.” “Ms. Hart, many women mistake protective mechanisms for love.” “Wheeler is helping you complete this separation to restore your independence and freedom.” My stomach cramped painfully. I instinctively pressed my lower abdomen. Less than two weeks since the miscarriage, the pain hadn’t fully faded. Ethan’s gaze fell on my trembling hand. He frowned and interrupted Paige. “Get her water.” Soon, a cup of water was placed in front of me. He always caught me just before I fell, then pushed me away again. The auditor continued: “Regarding Ms. Hart’s accidental miscarriage last month leading to emotional breakdown, will this become a potential PR risk for the company?” I froze completely. Ethan’s expression darkened. I thought he would lose his temper. But he only tapped the table. “Skip that item.” “Mr. Wheeler, the risk assessment must be comprehensive…” “I said skip it.” His voice was cold and hard. I picked up the cup of water and forced myself to take a sip. When the meeting ended, I signed the final “Complete Separation Confirmation.” People gradually left. Only Ethan and I remained. I put away my pen and stood up. “Ethan.” His hand paused while adjusting his cufflinks. I looked at him. “In these two years, was there ever a moment when I wasn’t just part of the process to you?” Ethan was silent for a long time. Finally, he looked up, his tone restrained. “Don’t dwell on meaningless things.” In that moment, even my breathing stopped. So every day I’d spent hurting was meaningless to him.

I rented an old apartment. The landlord tossed the keys onto a wooden table. “Rent is three months up front, utilities are separate, and the corner gets moldy when it rains.” I nodded and paid. The place was small, the wallpaper was peeling with mold, and the windows didn’t close properly. But here, I didn’t need a Wheeler access card. And no one would record when I slept, when I woke, who I saw, or how many times I cried. That evening, I opened my mother’s repair kit. At the very bottom, pressed beneath two torn papers, was a small note in my mother’s handwriting: “Serena, when you truly leave the Wheeler family, repair this.” “Don’t use the truth to beg for love.” I stared at those words, tears nearly falling. I put on sterile gloves, prepared separation solution, and moistened the paper edges. The slightly acidic scent of the solution spread through the air. That smell was terrifyingly familiar. After we married, I often worked on old letters in the study. Ethan would occasionally come in and adjust the harsh white light above my head to warm lighting. I was afraid of thunder. On stormy nights in Mistport, he’d change his international conference calls to audio-only and sit in the living room handling emails. When thunder rumbled, I could look up and see his silhouette. That silhouette had given me so many illusions. I’d thought that was what companionship meant. Until I asked him: “Ethan, could we have a meal together this weekend? Not a business dinner, just the two of us.” He looked at me in the mirror while knotting his tie and said: “Serena Hart, don’t mistake everyday courtesies for intimacy.” “That’s just polite cohabitation.” Later, I got pregnant. I thought this child might make us different somehow. But Paige’s emails came more frequently each day. “Pregnancy Emotional Independence Recommendations” “Non-Essential Companionship Risk Advisory” “Contractual Relationship Boundary Reminder” Reading every word made me feel like I was crossing boundaries. The day I miscarried, Mistport was hit by a torrential storm. I was in so much pain I couldn’t stop shaking. I called Ethan seventeen times. The eighteenth call finally connected. But it was Paige’s voice on the line. She was completely calm. “Mr. Wheeler is handling an urgent matter.” “Ms. Hart, please contact the medical team through proper channels. Don’t occupy Mr. Wheeler’s private line.” I wanted to say I was bleeding. I wanted to say I was in so much pain. But the call had already disconnected. Ethan made it to the hospital later. He stood by the hospital bed, his face frighteningly pale. But his first words were: “Why didn’t you follow protection protocol?” “Why didn’t you bring your life assistant when you went out?” By then, the baby was already gone. My body had lost all its strength, with only a thread of life remaining. I stared at the ceiling and asked him: “Ethan, will I always rank behind your protocols?” He was silent for a long time. Finally, he reached out and tucked in the blanket around me. “At least protocols won’t harm you.” The tip of my repair knife faltered. I snapped back from the memory. In the layer revealed by the solution, half of a sharp signature emerged. “Ethan Wheeler.” My hand trembled, and the knife point cut my fingertip. I didn’t care about the pain. I just stared at that name. How could it be him?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “398147”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

An accidental spiked drink led to me rolling in the sheets with my arch-nemesis for a whole day and night. Afterward, my best friend asked me how it was. To save face, I stubbornly lied, “All show and no go. It was over before I even felt anything.” My arch-nemesis happened to overhear this. With a dark smirk, he dragged me right back to that exact same hotel room. He pinned me beneath him, slowly and deliberately pulling the hearing aid from his ear, mouthing the words to me: “Once this comes off, I won’t be stopping.” “Don’t cry and beg for mercy like last time.” “Because… I won’t be able to hear you anyway.” 1 Riiip— Hudson Brooks’s custom-tailored shirt was torn clean in half by my hands. I was draped over him, my fingers roaming wildly over his abs, pulling low, ragged pants from his chest. Just as I reached for his belt, he suddenly grabbed my wrist. His fingers flashed in rapid sign language. Through my blurred vision, I barely made out his meaning: No. “Damn it, Hudson, are you just going to watch me die here?!” “I’m already like this and you still won’t touch me! Does it just not work?!” “If you can’t get it up, go find me a man who can!” I burst into frustrated tears. Who could have predicted that I’d get roofied at a high-society gala? The drug was incredibly potent, burning away every last ounce of my reason. If I didn’t get a man right now, I genuinely felt like I was going to explode. Hudson’s grip on me tightened, his sharp Adam’s apple bobbing heavily. He signed a few more words. He was asking: You won’t regret this? Completely out of patience, I propped myself up and smashed my lips against his. “If you’re a real man, just do it! Stop talking nonsense!” 2 When I woke up the next day, my back ached, my bones felt like they were falling apart, and my throat was unbearably dry. Clutching my waist, I was just about to get up for some water when my eyes landed on Hudson, resting with his eyes closed beside me. His hair was messy, and his neck was covered in highly visible scratches and hickeys, looking impossibly scandalous. Especially the massive bite mark right over his chest. My breath hitched. My brain went into overdrive. Who am I? Where am I? What did I just do? Who is the man next to me? Then, I let out an internal banshee screech. Holy crap, I actually slept with my arch-nemesis, Hudson Brooks, for a whole day and night!!! Throwing all shame out the window, I threw my clothes on on my trembling legs and fled the hotel room. When I sneaked back into my house, my parents—who had been frantically looking for me—looked me up and down. Seeing I was safe and sound, they finally let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, Maya sweetheart, have you seen our Hudson?” Before I could even process my parents’ relief, another voice suddenly cut in, making me jump out of my skin. It was Hudson’s mother. I looked up and realized that Hudson’s parents were in my living room too. From the looks of it, they had been waiting here for a long time. Mrs. Brooks’s face was etched with worry. “He disappeared right after he left the gala last night.” “We checked the security cameras, and you left the venue with him.” “Why did you come back alone?” Meeting Mrs. Brooks’s eyes, my heart seized, and I couldn’t help but look away guiltily. Of course I knew where Hudson was. We were literally rolling around in the same bed just hours ago. If our parents found out we slept together, they would absolutely force us to get married. But Hudson was my sworn enemy. We could never be together. Besides, yesterday was just a drug-induced accident. 3 Just as I was racking my brain for an excuse, Mrs. Brooks’s eyes suddenly lit up. She hurried past me. “Hudson—” The moment she spoke, a heavy, piercing gaze landed silently on my back, scraping against my skin like a sharp little knife. I turned around stiffly, only to find Hudson staring right at me. He signed to his parents that he was fine, then lifted his heavy eyelids to look at me. He signed: Why… did you… come back… first? He looked exactly like he did last night, when I was riding him and he patiently signed, asking if his pace was okay. A chaotic flood of explicit memories crashed into my brain. Panicking, I spun around and fled upstairs as fast as my legs could carry me. Back in my room, I locked myself in the bathroom and dunked my head in a sink full of cold water, desperately trying to flush out those filthy, inappropriate memories. “Maya Collins, what the hell kind of R-rated garbage are you thinking about?!” I forced myself to calm down, silently consoling my reflection. So I slept with Hudson. Big deal. Hudson probably doesn’t care either. He’s probably disgusted by it. Just pretend it never happened. Just like how he always pushed me away before. 4 Hudson and I were childhood friends who grew up right next door to each other. Because our families were close, we played together since we were toddlers. We were practically inseparable. Back then, Hudson’s ears were perfectly healthy. He didn’t need hearing aids. Every day after school, the first thing I did was run over to find him, and he never got tired of dragging me around to play. Until we were ten years old. Hudson caught a sudden, dangerously high fever. Because he didn’t receive treatment in time, it left him with a permanent disability. From then on, he had to wear hearing aids just to hear anything. From that day forward, the sweet, gentle little boy I knew became volatile and moody. He grew silent and withdrawn, locking himself in his room and violently resisting all medical treatments. I tried to cheer him up, but every time he saw me, he would throw things, lose his temper, and angrily scream at me to get out. Even though I was young, I could clearly feel it: he didn’t want to see me. He was repulsed by me. But I was never one to back down from a fight. The more Hudson pushed me away, the more I forced my way into his space, opposing him at every single turn. As we grew up, he continued to give me the cold shoulder. And so, he became the arch-nemesis I swore to be at odds with until the day I died. 5 I hid in my house for three days. During that time, my best friend Zoe kept asking me to hang out, but I made up excuses to reject her. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go out; it was that my lower back felt like Hudson had literally snapped it in half. Hudson was almost six-foot-three, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and biceps that bulged against his sleeves. He could lift my ninety-pound self with a single arm. That night, he had pinned me against the wall with one hand, pushing my body past its limits over and over again. And even after that, he didn’t let me go, dragging me to multiple different “venues” around the hotel room. I honestly suspected he had some kind of sex addiction. It wasn’t until the fourth day, when my body finally recovered a bit, that I agreed to meet Zoe. The moment we sat down, Zoe eagerly demanded to know what happened between me and Hudson. “Spit it out, what exactly happened between you two? He’s been blowing up my phone asking about you.” Hudson was asking about me? My first reaction was that it was impossible. After pushing me away for so many years, shouldn’t he be avoiding me like the plague? But under Zoe’s relentless interrogation, I finally cracked and confessed that I had slept with him. “What?! You and Hudson slept—” Zoe’s jaw dropped, her voice hitting an outrageously high pitch. I clamped my hand over her mouth immediately, barely avoiding drawing the attention of the entire bar. “Maya, look at you go! You actually managed to bed Hudson Brooks.” “So, how was he? Is he an absolute beast in the sack?” Zoe nudged me with her elbow, a wicked smirk on her face. My face instantly turned beet red. Though I didn’t really want to admit it, I had to say, Hudson was exceptionally talented in that department. The only problem was the communication barrier. Sometimes, when things got too intense, his hearing aid would get knocked out. No matter how much I begged him to slow down, he wouldn’t react at all. Eventually, I had to press my lips right against his ear, crying and begging for mercy in broken gasps. 6 But here’s the thing about me: I would rather die than lose face. Getting me to admit my arch-nemesis was good in bed? Absolutely impossible. So, faced with Zoe’s intense curiosity, I stubbornly lied: “All show and no go. It was over before I even felt anything.” “You don’t understand, Hudson just looks good on the surface, but actually…” Before I could finish my sentence, Zoe suddenly froze. She stared at me in sheer panic, her eyes desperately darting to the space right behind me. I instinctively turned my head. “What’s—” Before the word could leave my mouth, I came face to face with Hudson. He was wearing a sharp black suit, the top two buttons undone, casting a dark, half-smile down at me from his razor-sharp features. His expression clearly said: Keep going. My legs started shaking involuntarily. Realizing the impending doom, Zoe let out an awkward laugh and patted my shoulder. “Uh, Maya, I just remembered I have an emergency.” Without looking back, Zoe bolted, leaving me alone with him in the bar. I watched the corner of Hudson’s mouth twitch. It looked like a smile, but also like blatant mockery. Then, slowly and deliberately, he raised his hands and signed to me. You… didn’t… feel anything… that night? I knew sign language. The very first day I learned Hudson would need hearing aids for the rest of his life, I immediately went out and learned ASL. But right now, every sign he made landed heavily on my chest, suffocating me. My instinct was to run, but I forced myself to stay glued to the stool. “Th-that night, just forget about it. I’m pretending nothing happened.” I didn’t want one mutually consensual accident to complicate our relationship forever. But I clearly underestimated Hudson. His jaw locked. He stepped forward and scooped me up into his arms, carrying me bridal style. No matter how hard I thrashed, he held me in a vice grip. I panicked, struggling wildly. “Hudson, what are you doing?! Put me down!” It wasn’t until we were out of the bar that he looked down. His thin lips parted, mouthing the words with absolute clarity. “I’m going to… make you feel it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445335”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At sixteen, I was known as the ugly girl of my class. Caleb Pierce mistook me for the school beauty. We dated online for two years, but on the day we finally met in person, he realized he had added the wrong Snapchat account. Feeling humiliated, he relentlessly bullied me for three years. Because of him, I bombed my SATs and failed to get into a good college. Years later, his career and love life were booming, while I was tragically assaulted and murdered while working a dead-end night shift. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to being sixteen. Back to the exact day Caleb and I had promised to meet in real life. 1 I distinctly remember dying. I died on a freezing winter night, in a hotel room reeking of cheap alcohol. A heavy-set man with a flushed, greasy face had his thick hands wrapped tightly around my neck, squeezing the air out of my lungs. My consciousness stalled for a fraction of a second. Then, the agonizing pain vanished. I snapped my eyes open, only to be completely stunned by the sight in front of me. Row upon row of wooden school desks. I looked down and realized there was a stack of high school textbooks and two brand-new prep school uniforms resting on the desk in front of me. I was surrounded by familiar faces from high school. At the front of the room, our homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison, was smiling and introducing himself to the class. But… hadn’t Mr. Harrison retired years ago? Before I could even process what was happening, footsteps echoed from the hallway. “Excuse me—” My heart seized. That voice. Could it be…? I looked toward the door. A tall boy dressed in black stood there, a lazy, arrogant smirk playing on his lips, his posture radiating a careless entitlement. A full-body shudder racked through me, and I nearly screamed out loud. Caleb Pierce! It was Caleb Pierce! My heart pounded violently against my ribs. Pure terror, heavily laced with a deep, venomous hatred, surged through my veins. My fingers curled into fists unconsciously, my nails digging so hard into my palms that they broke the skin. The sharp sting in my hands confirmed it. I really had been reborn. I was sixteen again. It was the first day of sophomore year—the exact day Caleb and I had agreed to finally meet in person. 2 A vast majority of the misery in my life started the moment I met Caleb Pierce. When I hit middle school, puberty hit me like a truck. I gained a lot of weight, and my face broke out in severe acne. The boys in my class constantly made fun of me. I was already introverted, but over time, the relentless teasing shattered my self-esteem. I became so insecure I barely spoke to anyone. And Caleb happened to appear right when I was at my loneliest. He had been trying to add our math tutor’s Snapchat, but carelessly typed the wrong username and added me instead. When the mix-up was cleared up, Caleb didn’t delete me. Instead, he offered to be my friend. I didn’t say no. Because back then, I was just so unbelievably lonely. Just like that, we started an online relationship that lasted two years. By the end of freshman year, Caleb wanted to meet in person. I was terrified and didn’t know what to do. I wanted to see him too, but I was so scared he would find me ugly that I couldn’t bring myself to agree. Sensing my hesitation, Caleb sent me a message. It was that exact message that dragged me into a living hell. [Mia, I know how amazing you are. I don’t care about your looks. I like you for what’s on the inside.] I fell for his sweet lies and promised that if we both got accepted into Oakridge Preparatory Academy, we would meet. In my past life, we agreed to meet at the local amusement park this very afternoon. He said he wanted to take me on the Ferris wheel. I wore a white sundress I had bought specifically for the occasion, my heart fluttering with joy as I went to see him. But the moment he laid eyes on me, his face dropped. He looked at me in sheer disbelief. “You’re… Mia?” I nodded, smiling at him. “Yeah, I’m Mia.” While I was overflowing with happiness, Caleb’s face darkened into a furious scowl. He coldly pulled out his phone and made a call. Minutes later, three or four vicious-looking guys showed up. They were Caleb’s lackeys. On Caleb’s orders, the boys dragged me into a dirty alleyway behind the park and beat me mercilessly. It started to drizzle. My pristine white dress was quickly ruined by muddy footprints and grime. Caleb kicked me square in the stomach, sending a wave of agony through me that felt like my internal organs were rupturing. I struggled to call his name, desperately wanting to ask why he was doing this to me. He cut me off with a vicious spit. “Ugly bitch, do you think you have the right to say my name? You’re hideous, and you dared to impersonate my goddess?! Have you no shame?!” “Stay the hell away from me. You make me sick!” That was when I finally realized that Caleb truly had added the wrong account back then. The person he had originally meant to add was his longtime crush, the school beauty. Because her name was Amelia, she also went by the nickname “Mia” online, and we happened to have the same aesthetic profile picture. He had mistaken me for her. What I thought was my salvation was nothing but a cruel, twisted mistake. 3 At the door, Caleb casually explained to the teacher that he had walked into the wrong classroom earlier. Since it was the first day of school, Mr. Harrison didn’t make a big deal out of it and gestured for him to find an empty seat. Staring at his back, I fell into deep thought. The girl Caleb truly liked was Amelia Sterling, the famously brilliant and beautiful valedictorian-track goddess. In our past life, to follow in her footsteps, Caleb played the role of a reformed good boy. He spent three years grinding his way up from the bottom of the class, successfully reversing his bad grades to get accepted into an elite Ivy League university. Amelia was so moved by his dedication and perseverance that she accepted his confession right after graduation. The teachers literally used his turnaround as an inspiring success story, even inviting him back to give motivational speeches to the underclassmen. He reaped the rewards of a beautiful romance, flowers, and applause. Meanwhile, in a dark corner nobody cared about, I bombed my SATs. Caleb viewed my existence as a stain on his pride. He used me as his personal punching bag to relieve his academic stress, bullying me relentlessly for three entire years. In the end, my scores were so low I couldn’t even get into a regular state college; I had to settle for a local community college. Without a solid degree, my adult life was a brutal struggle. To pay off the massive medical debts from my dad’s cancer treatments, I sold our house and worked multiple exhausting part-time jobs. Just when I was finally about to pay off the last of the debt, I crossed paths with a drunk, lust-crazed customer and was killed. The memories flashed through my mind like a horrifying movie reel. It wasn’t until the phone in my pocket buzzed that I snapped back to reality. Caleb had sent me a text. [Mia, what are you wearing today? I seriously can’t wait to see you!] [Heart-eyes emoji] Staring at the screen, a wave of nausea washed over me. He was clearly a shallow prick who only cared about appearances, yet he had the audacity to claim he didn’t care about my looks. It was absolutely sickening. I didn’t want any more ties to Caleb. Without a second thought, I typed back: [I’m over this.] [Let’s delete each other. There’s no need for us to meet.] The moment I hit send, I blocked his number and deleted his Snapchat. As soon as the opening day assembly was over, I rushed straight home. The moment I pushed open the front door, the familiar, long-lost aroma of home-cooked food hit me. My dad, wearing his faded floral apron, was busy in the kitchen preparing lunch. Seeing me, he waved his spatula with a bright smile. “Mia, you’re back! I made your favorite homemade fried chicken. Go wash your hands, food’s almost ready!” Staring at his back, my eyes instantly welled up with tears. Afraid he would notice something was wrong, I hurried into the bathroom to wash my face and compose myself. By the time I came out, the food was already on the table. I picked up a piece of chicken and took a bite. The nostalgic taste exploded in my mouth, sending warmth through my entire body. The tear I had been holding back finally slipped down my cheek. Seeing me cry, my dad panicked. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Why are you crying? Does it taste bad?” I shook my head frantically. “No, it’s just so good. I’m crying because it’s delicious.” In my past life, my dad passed away from stomach cancer during my second year of community college. I never dreamed I would get the chance to eat his cooking again. Hearing my answer, my dad breathed a sigh of relief. He reached out and affectionately ruffled my hair. “Eat up if you like it. You need a full stomach so you have energy to hang out with your friends later.” During middle school, I didn’t have any friends. I spent every weekend locked in my room. Knowing I was supposedly going out with a “new friend” today made him incredibly happy for me. Of course, I had no intention of going to see Caleb. To keep my dad from worrying, I didn’t explain anything. After I finished eating, I simply left the house. Even though I had already blocked Caleb, I still felt a lingering unease. This second chance at life was too precious. Just to be safe, I headed straight to the Verizon store and completely changed my phone number. The late summer sun was blazing hot. Stepping out of the phone store, I finally let out a long sigh of relief. With this, Caleb wouldn’t be able to track me down anymore… right? 4 For the next two months, Caleb didn’t bother me. But just when I thought I had successfully shaken him off and was ready to dive fully into my studies, a crumpled note suddenly appeared inside my desk. A line of aggressive, messy handwriting glared up at me: [Don’t leave after school. Wait for me, or else!] My stomach tied in knots. I wasn’t entirely sure if Caleb wrote it. To test the waters, I crumpled the note and threw it into the trash can right in front of him. As I turned around, I caught his reaction in my peripheral vision. He didn’t seem to react much at all. I thought maybe I was just being paranoid. But the very next day, I found another note in my desk. This time, it read: [Ugly bitch, if you run after school today, you’re dead!] My heart sank. “Ugly bitch” was Caleb’s signature insult. I had heard him spit those exact words at me countless times in my past life. I was practically positive Caleb was the one leaving the notes. But why… Why was he still coming after me when I had gone out of my way to avoid him? I took the note straight to our homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison. Being bullied by Caleb for three years was the ultimate nightmare of my past life. I absolutely refused to let history repeat itself. Mr. Harrison was an English teacher with thick black-rimmed glasses who carried a strict, no-nonsense aura. He examined the note and asked if I had offended anyone recently. I shook my head. “No, I get along fine with everyone, and I haven’t gotten into any arguments. I got a similar note yesterday, but I didn’t think much of it. But since it happened again today, I got really scared, so I decided to tell you.” Mr. Harrison patted my shoulder. “You did the right thing. When you encounter problems, don’t keep them to yourself. Always communicate with a teacher.” He told me to head back to class and to report to him immediately if anything else happened. I nodded earnestly. As I turned my head to leave, a small smile crept onto my lips. Mr. Harrison was incredibly sharp and knew every student’s handwriting like the back of his hand. I was confident that within two days, he would get to the bottom of this. Caleb wanted to play the good student? I was going to make sure the teachers saw exactly what kind of disgusting trash he really was. Sure enough, by Friday afternoon, Mr. Harrison called Caleb into his office. When Caleb returned to the classroom, his face was as dark as thunderclouds. It was obvious he had just been chewed out. Being young and hot-headed, he purposefully slammed his hip into my desk as he walked past me. Two of my books fell to the floor, and he viciously stomped on them. Before I could even speak, my desk-mate beat me to it. He lazily lifted his eyelids and let out a mocking scoff. “Caleb, how are you this mentally deficient? You look like a brain-damaged toddler who can’t even walk down an aisle without crashing into furniture.” Caleb, who was already overflowing with rage and desperate for a target, immediately exploded. “Shut up, you cheating dog! Are you begging to get expelled?!” We had reshuffled seats a week ago, and my new desk-mate, Declan Hayes, was notoriously ruthless. During the very first placement exams of the year, he was caught red-handed cheating by the Dean. As punishment, he was kicked out of the Honors track and dropped down to the Regular classes. He already had one major strike on his permanent record. If he got another, the school would expel him. Declan raised an eyebrow, a dangerously casual smile on his face. “Hard to say. Maybe the school will expel you first?” I fully expected Caleb to escalate the fight. Instead, he just shot Declan a venomous glare. “I don’t have time for trash like you. Bad luck.” He turned to me. “Mia, you just wait!” After dropping that empty threat, Caleb actually walked away. I was genuinely surprised. Swallowing his pride and walking away was definitely not Caleb’s usual style… Did Declan have some kind of blackmail on him?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445334”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my wedding day, my older brother poured a glass of red wine over my wedding dress. “Chloe Davis, you know Mia likes Nathan too. Why do you have to throw such a massive, flashy wedding?!” My fiancé leaned against the doorframe, his face an icy mask as he spoke in a low, cold voice: “I’ll give you two choices. One, you walk down the aisle and finish this ceremony in that dirty dress.” “Two, you go apologize to Mia right now. Once you coax her into a good mood, I’ll announce that the wedding is postponed.” I didn’t choose either. I chose a third path. I walked out in my wine-stained gown, stood before all our friends and family, and announced I was calling off the engagement. My brother, my lover, my adopted sister… I didn’t want any of them anymore. But not long after I left, rumors began to spread—the heirs of two of New York’s most powerful families had lost their minds. They were scouring the globe for the world’s top designers, desperately trying to repair a wedding dress stained with red wine. 1 When Carter stormed into the backstage dressing room, I had just finished changing into the wedding dress I had treasured for ten years. Before I could even step in front of the mirror to admire it, the young man who shared my facial features kicked the door open. “Chloe! Are you out of your damn mind? I warned you so many times, but you just had to go through with this stupid ceremony!” “You know perfectly well that Mia is in love with Nathan. Are you intentionally trying to break her heart? Do you have any idea how hard she’s crying at home right now?” He screamed at me, completely blind to how the initial joy in my eyes instantly shattered into dull ash. So, it was about Mia. Again. I stood there, at a loss for what to do. The gorgeous, heavy gown restricted my movements, a constant reminder that today was not a day for fighting. I let out a soft sigh. Instead of snapping back at him like I usually did, I looked up with unnatural calm. “Carter, can we not fight? At least not today… I’m getting married today. I just want to be happy.” Carter’s face darkened even more. He let out a scoff and took two aggressive steps toward me. “Could you stop being so selfish for once, Chloe? It’s just a wedding. Is a party really more important than Mia’s mental health?” “She is so sweet and understanding. She’s enduring her own heartbreak just to bless you and Nathan! She only had one request—she begged you not to make this wedding a massive spectacle! What would be so wrong with just having a quiet family dinner? Why do you have to be so stubborn?!” My hands began to tremble with rage at his sheer audacity. Throwing the “big day” out the window, I fired back: “I am the one getting married! What is wrong with wanting a real wedding for myself? I don’t care how sad Mia is—why the hell should I have to pay the price for her feelings?!” “Shut your mouth! Mia is your sister too! You have a responsibility to look out for her and compromise!” My vision swam with black spots. I practically screamed at the top of my lungs: “Sister?! She’s your sister, not mine! My mother only ever had one daughter!” “Shut up!” Ice-cold red wine dripped down my hair, soaking into the snow-white lace of my gown, blooming into a violent crimson stain. For a split second, both Carter and I froze. It was as if his sanity suddenly snapped back. The hand holding the empty wine glass began to tremble violently. “Chlo… Chloe, I didn’t mean to—” He scrambled to grab a handful of tissues from the vanity, clumsily reaching out to wipe my face, but I flinched away. Like a ghost whose soul had just been siphoned out, I stared down at the dark red stain blooming across my chest, sinking into a long, suffocating silence. Wine continued to drip from my hair. Perhaps feeling the scene was too disgraceful, Carter forcefully pressed a wad of tissues against my forehead. “Heh—Carter, why are you babying her?” “I told her from the start we shouldn’t have a wedding, but she teamed up with my parents to force my hand, making Mia cry all morning! Let her learn a lesson. It suits her.” Carter and I simultaneously looked toward the door. Nathan was leaning against the frame, a cigarette dangling from his lips, sneering at me. I suddenly realized he wasn’t even wearing a tuxedo. He was wearing a casual white jacket. Painted haphazardly across the chest was a crooked cartoon bear. It was the birthday present Mia had given him last year. 2 He tilted his head, letting out a dark chuckle at my pathetic state. “Did you really think that just because you kissed up to my parents, you could control my life, Chloe? Keep dreaming! No matter how much you scheme, you will never hold a candle to Mia!” Looking at the pure disgust in his eyes, I found it almost laughable. Our engagement was an arrangement our families made when we were little kids. He had never, ever said a word against it. Even when he started treating Mia better than he treated me, he never once brought up canceling the engagement. It was the Sterling family that pushed for the wedding. When Mia found out we were getting married, she threw a massive tantrum and went on a hunger strike, sending Carter and Nathan into a frenzy of heartbreak. To coddle her, both of them actively avoided me. During the very last phone call I had with Nathan, I asked him, “Nathan, do you actually want to marry me?” He was silent for a long time. Then, Mia’s tearful voice drifted through the receiver: “Nathan? Who are you talking to? Is it my sister?” He panicked immediately. “God, you’re so annoying! My family decided this years ago, why are you even asking? Stop calling me!” Mr. Sterling had assured me not to worry, that he would handle the wedding arrangements, and that he would talk sense into Nathan. Looking at Nathan now, it was obvious he had caught an earful from his father and came here specifically to humiliate me out of spite. I let out a low, hollow laugh, taking the tissues from Carter’s hand to wipe the remaining wine off my face. “Chloe! Chloe, is your fiancé here yet? The officiant says it’s time to line up! You… oh my god—your dress!” My bridesmaid and best friend, Riley, came rushing in. When she saw the state of the dressing room, she almost passed out. Her hazel eyes widened in sheer disbelief. She looked at me, then at the two men, instantly piecing it together. “You two absolute scumbags! You’re bullying Chloe again?!” Before she could launch herself at Nathan and claw his face off, I quickly grabbed her arm. Riley’s dad worked for the Sterling Group. It wasn’t worth it. It was so not worth it. But Nathan seemed to misunderstand my intervention. Seeing me shield him, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. Then, he softened his tone. “I’ll give you two choices. One, you walk down the aisle and finish this ceremony in that dirty dress.” “Two, you go apologize to Mia right now. Once you coax her into a good mood, I’ll announce that the wedding is postponed and have someone rush-order you a new gown. Take your pick.” He offered the choices, but his face wore a provocative smirk, like he was just waiting for me to argue with him. Riley was crying tears of pure anger, glaring at him like she wanted to eat him alive. But I… from start to finish, I didn’t look angry at all. I raised my head and looked him dead in the eyes. “No need, Nathan. My wedding dress—it was handmade for me by my mother right before she died. I highly doubt you could find a better designer than her.” Thud— Behind me, Carter stumbled back, crashing into the vanity. I turned and met his utterly horrified eyes. His lips were trembling, trying to form words, but nothing came out. I ignored him and looked back at Nathan. “So, as for your two options—I reject them both.” 3 I held my bouquet and walked out onto the stage alone. The only people standing at the altar were Nathan’s parents. My own parents had passed away years ago. Aside from the brother who had just splashed wine in my face, I had no blood relatives left in this world. Ignoring the shocked gasps of the hundreds of guests, I calmly took the microphone from the officiant. “I apologize for appearing before you all looking so unpresentable. Please forgive me.” Nathan, finally snapping out of his daze, rushed onto the stage and grabbed my arm. “Chloe, what the hell are you doing?” “Doing exactly what you wanted.” “As everyone can see, my fiancé, Mr. Sterling, didn’t even bother to put on a tuxedo…” “He claims I manipulated him into this wedding. So let’s just say I’m tired of manipulating. I officially announce that my engagement to Nathan Sterling is canceled! From this day forward, our lives have absolutely nothing to do with each other!” I dropped the mic, shook off Nathan’s grip, and walked off the stage. Behind me, the banquet hall erupted into absolute chaos. In front of me stood Carter, his face completely drained of color, his eyes frantic. He reached out to grab me, but his hand stopped mid-air when he saw the glaring, dark red stain on my dress. I didn’t stop for anyone. I tossed the bridal bouquet aside and brushed past Carter without a second glance. At the entrance, a furious Riley had already pulled the car around. “Chloe! Get in!” It wasn’t until I sat down in the passenger seat that I realized my hands were shaking. In the rearview mirror, my ruined makeup was streaked with silent tears. Riley pulled two tissues and handed them to me, cursing Nathan’s name to hell and back. “He used to be such a sweet kid! How did he turn into such a monster?!” “He… he used to like you so much! That bastard changes his heart faster than he changes his clothes!” Her voice slowly trailed off when she noticed I had buried my face in the tissues, remaining completely silent. “Chloe…” “I’m fine, Riley, really. I just… I really miss my mom.” The car fell dead silent. I leaned my head against the window, watching the scenery blur past, feeling an overwhelming sense of how much time changes everything. It turned out I was the only idiot who had stayed rooted in the past, refusing to move on. The truth was, when we were kids, Carter and Nathan treated me so well. They really did. My mother was a globally renowned wedding dress designer. She always told me she was going to design the most unique dress in the world for me, that she wanted to personally watch me wear her love and blessings to marry the man of my dreams. That was the year Nathan and I were promised to each other. He used to blush bright red when he tried to hold my hand, only for my older brother to forcefully squeeze between us. “Get away! They said when you’re older, not right now!” The adults would burst into laughter, and I would shyly hide in my mother’s embrace as she gently stroked my hair. Back then, my mother hadn’t been diagnosed with stomach cancer. There was no adopted sister named Mia in our house. Everyone I loved revolved around me. 4 My mother passed away when I was twelve. Because she couldn’t predict my adult measurements, the final wedding dress she made for me was modified countless times. In the end, she had to add adjustable zippers to the bodice and waist. It was the final gift my mother left for me in this world. Yet, I almost lost even this dress. The same year my mother died, my dad brought a little girl home. He said she was the orphaned child of his old army buddy, named Mia. His friend had begged him on his deathbed to take care of her. “Carter, Chloe, this is your new little sister. You have to get along with her, okay?” I tried. But clearly, Mia had a different agenda. I had never, ever met a child like her. One second, she would be viciously yanking my doll out of my hands through gritted teeth, and the very next second, if Carter or Nathan walked in, she would burst into pitiful tears. Is it human nature to instinctively pity and trust the weak? I don’t know. All I know is that the two boys who used to blindly take my side slowly tipped their scales toward Mia. “Chloe, you can’t be like that! Mia doesn’t have parents anymore, she’s so pitiful!” “Yeah, Chloe, you need to let her have her way. You have your real brother, you have me. Mia has nothing.” “…” I lost count of how many times I fought with them over it. Every single argument ended with them scolding me for not being “half as gentle and sweet as Mia.” Eventually, I got too tired to fight. But my compromises only made Mia… bolder. She actually tried to steal the wedding dress my mother left me! When I saw her dragging that pristine white silk down the staircase, I lost my mind. For the first time in my life, I hit her. By the time she brought Carter into my room, sporting a bright red handprint on her cheek, I was carefully dabbing the dust off the train of the dress with clean water. “Sob… Carter, don’t yell at her. I made Chloe mad, that’s why she hit me. I deserved it!” I still remember the way Carter looked at me that day. Disappointment, confusion, and… disgust. He said, “Chloe, I never imagined you could become this vicious.” “Mia has never seen such beautiful clothes before. She just wanted to look at it. How could you be so cruel?” My hands shook with rage as I screamed back at him. The commotion drew my dad upstairs. Seeing Mia’s tear-streaked face, he carefully coaxed her, “Don’t cry, Mia. Daddy will hire someone to make you an even prettier princess dress, okay?” Once she stopped crying, he turned around, finally noticing I was standing right there. His face instantly filled with deep awkwardness. “Ahem, yes, both of you. We’ll make one for Chloe too, alright?” Watching him and Carter gently wipe Mia’s tears, I finally, belatedly realized… I was the outsider. I didn’t ask for a new princess dress. I just took my mother’s gown, locked it inside my closet, and hid the key. That was the day I realized that no one in this world truly loved me anymore. “Chloe, we’re here. Let me go in with you, in case that manipulative little hypocrite tries to bully you again!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445333”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the very first day of my holiday visit home. My mom practically shoved a gorgeous younger guy into my arms. She left me with one incredibly loaded sentence: “You know what to do.” I took the hint perfectly, and I dragged him straight to my bedroom. Afterward, my mom casually asked where the kid who came for GRE tutoring went. Looking at the exhausted man lying in my bed… I trembled. 1 My company gave us an extra-long winter break, so I happily dragged my suitcase back to my hometown for the holidays. The second I stepped through the front door, my mom shoved a young, handsome guy right into my arms and left me with a deeply meaningful: “You know what to do.” Then she grabbed her purse and sprinted out the door, yelling something about her weekly poker game missing a fourth player. The guy was easily 6’1″, with sharp eyebrows, bright eyes, and the kind of clean-cut, effortless good looks that belonged on a magazine cover. A faint smile hung on his lips as he sweetly and obediently said, “Hey, Chloe.” His eyes were so clear and innocent. He looked ridiculously easy to take advantage of. I instantly understood the assignment. I flashed an “OK” sign at my mom’s retreating back, pulled the gorgeous guy inside, and slammed the front door shut. He stared at me as I locked the deadbolt, blinking in surprise before letting out a low, incredibly attractive, “Hmm?” His voice was so deep and resonant, listening to it for too long could probably get a girl pregnant. I turned and shushed him, grabbing his warm hand and leading him straight up the stairs. His fingers were long, smooth, and perfectly manicured. I had no idea how a guy managed to have hands that soft. Though he looked a bit confused, he furrowed his brows and obediently let me pull him along. It wasn’t until I shoved him onto my mattress that he finally started squirming in panic like a terrified caterpillar. “Chloe, what are you doing?” I straddled his waist, pinning his wrists on either side of his head. Once I had him trapped beneath me, I softened my voice and purred, “What do you think? “This was bound to happen eventually. We’re just speeding up the timeline a little.” But damn, the guy was strong. The moment the words left my mouth, he flipped his hands and gripped my shoulders. “Chloe, you need to think this through!” He turned his head away, his gaze landing on my bare wrists. His cheeks were flushed red, but his voice was full of righteous panic. His grip was iron-tight, and he bent his long legs, trying to buck me off. I reached out and gently patted his handsome cheek. “Be a good boy. Save that energy for later.” He tried to protest again, but I covered his mouth. “Shh. Don’t speak.” He had been struggling and twisting, but the second my lips brushed against his Adam’s apple, it was like I hit his pause button. His entire body went rigid. And then, it felt like I accidentally flipped his beast-mode switch. In a dizzying spin, the innocent guy transformed into a wolf, flipping our positions and practically devouring me alive. 2 My mom is the classic traditional parent: absolutely forbade dating in high school, but the second I hit college, she started relentlessly hounding me to get married. During undergrad, she told me to go after my classmates. During my master’s, she told me not to let the frat boys or teaching assistants slip away. After graduation, she told me to lock down a coworker or a boss. Every holiday, weekend, and vacation, she was setting me up on blind dates with local “eligible bachelors.” Despite her frantic efforts, there was zero spark with any of them. Either they were complete toads, or I was the ugly duckling. The only few who actually met my standards? I was always too cowardly to make a move. She constantly complained about my lack of guts. She loved bragging about how my dad was the crush of their entire town back in the day. She wasn’t the prettiest, and her family wasn’t the richest, but she was bold. She basically hit him over the head and dragged him home. She always said if she hadn’t taken the initiative, I wouldn’t even exist. She told me to learn from her. If I saw someone I liked, I needed to strike first. So, when she gave me that knowing wink while handing over this gorgeous younger guy, I completely understood. I boldly dragged him upstairs. I figured I’d lock him down first and deal with the consequences later. When he pinned me to the mattress, I realized I might have been a little too bold. An entire afternoon passed. I lay in bed, gasping for air, lacking the energy to move a single finger. The guy kept looking at me, hesitating as if he wanted to say something, but I was too exhausted to speak. I closed my eyes, drifting into sleep. Suddenly, a demonic voice pierced my eardrums: “Chloe Davis! Where is Liam?! “Wasn’t he coming over for you to tutor him for the GRE? Did he leave already? “Why didn’t you invite him to stay for dinner?!” … I shot up in bed like a startled fish. Liam? The chubby kid from next door who was three years younger than me? The kid I helped with spelling in elementary school, algebra in middle school, and SAT prep in high school? The same kid my mom mentioned a few days ago who needed help prepping for his grad school entrance exams?! I remembered what he used to look like. Did losing weight really make him this hot?! I pointed a trembling finger at the guy in my bed. “Liam?” His eyes widened, and he nodded obediently. “You came for GRE tutoring?” He nodded obediently again. “Then why didn’t you say so?!” I hissed. I genuinely thought he was a blind date my mom had arranged! When I first saw his face downstairs, I had almost cried tears of joy. I used to suspect my parents were secret billionaires pretending to be poor to build my character. Then I suspected I was adopted and my real billionaire parents would find me. When I saw Liam today, I thought, Billionaires have nothing on this! Only my true, flesh-and-blood mother would save such a premium asset for her own daughter! But he was just a studious younger neighbor coming over for test prep! Liam looked incredibly wronged. The flush hadn’t faded from his face, and his gorgeous hazel eyes were swimming with emotion. “You never gave me a chance to speak.” I felt like I was having a heart attack, a stroke, and an asthma attack all at once. Hearing my mom’s footsteps climbing the stairs, I inhaled sharply and locked the bedroom door. When I turned around, Liam was already pulling his shirt on. His V-shaped torso was flawless, marked only by the long, red scratches down his back. He was terrifyingly calm. He shot me an innocent look. “Why did you lock the door? Let’s go out together. We should take responsibility for what we did.” I slapped him lightly on the back of the head. “Look who’s suddenly full of responsibility!” I grabbed his arm, shoved the window open, and pushed him toward it. “Out the window!” Liam froze, looking highly offended. “Chloe, what is this supposed to mean?” I was sweating bullets. I shoved him again. “What does it mean? It means today was your lucky day!” He grabbed the window frame and sighed. “Chloe, we’re on the second floor. Are you trying to murder me to silence the witness?” Click! Rattle! The doorknob jiggled aggressively. My heart leaped into my throat. My mom’s demonic voice echoed again: “Chloe! What are you doing?! Why is the door locked?! “I asked you where Liam went!” My brain spun at hyper-speed. Hundreds of excuses flashed through my mind until I grabbed one, swallowed hard, and steadied my voice: “He finished his session and went home!” I lowered my voice, adding a tired, whiny tone. “I was on a train all morning and I’m exhausted! I knew you’d come in and rip my blankets off, so I locked the door. “I just want to get some sleep!” My mom instantly felt guilty. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Get some rest. I’ll go downstairs and start dinner.” Downstairs?! That was Liam’s only escape route! I quickly shouted, “Mom! I’m actually starving! I feel like I’m dying. Could you ride your bike down to the diner and get me some of that famous BBQ brisket?!” In that moment, I truly admired my own genius. But my mom sweetly replied, “Your dad is on his way home. I’ll call him to pick it up.” I gasped in horror. “Mom, I’m so hungry my stomach hurts! If you take the e-bike, you’ll be back in ten minutes! I’ll eat it while we wait for Dad!” “Alright, alright! Brat. You’re always craving junk food.” Hearing her footsteps retreat down the stairs, I let out a massive sigh of relief. I scooped up the rest of Liam’s clothes, shoved them into his chest, and dragged him toward the door. He stood planted like a tree, his eyes dark and unreadable. He was clearly pissed. “Chloe. We’re just going to leave it at this?” My brain was complete mush. I just needed him out of my house. Without thinking, I blurted, “You already ate me, do you want to stay for brisket too?!” I pushed him down the stairs. He resisted, his expression stormy as he used my full name. “Chloe Davis, are we really just leaving it at this?” What else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t afford to pay him for his services! I stopped walking. “I genuinely thought you were a blind date. I was a little impulsive. I’m sorry…” His eyes instantly turned red, like he was about to cry. I was completely baffled. I quickly grabbed two toasted bagels from the kitchen counter and shoved them into his hands. “Don’t cry! You worked hard all afternoon, eat these on your way home. Be a good boy and hurry up…” Before I could even finish my sentence, Liam turned on his heel and stormed out. Watching his tall silhouette disappear down the winding suburban road, my heart finally settled back into my chest. A wave of exhaustion hit me so hard my knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed onto the floor. But I still had to clean the evidence off my bedsheets. Wanting to cry but having no tears left, I stripped the bed and started scrubbing the sheets in the sink. Having fun in bed is great, until the aftermath hits you like a freight train. As I reminisced about the steamy afternoon, I was also dying of embarrassment. “What are you doing?!” I jumped so hard I fell backward, landing square on my butt. The impact sent a shooting pain up my spine. I stammered, shivering, “My… my period started early. I accidentally got it on the sheets.” My mom rolled her eyes. “It’s perfectly normal. Look at you acting so guilty, people would think you committed a murder.” She set down the takeout bags of BBQ brisket, parked her keys on the counter, and started nagging. “Liam’s dad throws a lot of contracting work your dad’s way. “You need to do a good job tutoring Liam. Don’t make him walk over here tomorrow. Take the initiative and go to his house to tutor him.” Go to his house?! My brain was about to explode. “He got his undergrad from an Ivy League school! Why would he even struggle to get into grad school?!” “You’re just as dense as your father! With the economy these past few years, if it wasn’t for Liam’s dad throwing us projects, we would’ve starved! “It’s rare that they actually need a favor from us. It’s only right that we repay them properly.” My mom’s tone left absolutely zero room for argument. “Tomorrow, right after lunch, you’re going over there.” 3 My mom is a woman of her word. The second I finished lunch the next day, she shoved my old GRE prep books into my arms and pushed me out the door. Forget about tutoring, I didn’t even have the face to look Liam in the eye. I made up my mind to find a warm coffee shop, play on my phone all afternoon, and then sneak back home. Who knew I wouldn’t even make it two blocks before running into Liam’s mom, Mrs. Miller? The Millers made a fortune in construction and moved to the city years ago, only returning for the holidays. The wealthy city life clearly suited her; she looked even younger than she did years ago. Spotting me across the street, Mrs. Miller shouted, “Chloe! Your mom told me you were coming to tutor Liam! Hurry up, it’s freezing out here. Come warm up at our house!” She crossed the street, took the heavy books right out of my hands, and dragged me toward her massive house. “That boy of mine is ridiculous. He’s struggling with his studying, but he won’t even walk over to ask for your help. I’m going to scold him when we get inside! He needs to respect his teachers!” I wanted to die on the spot. What kind of terrible luck was this? Mrs. Miller pulled me through the front door and yelled up the stairs, “Liam! Chloe is here!” Liam was standing at the top of the staircase, one hand casually tucked into his sweatpants pocket, looking down at me from his elevated vantage point. His lips were pressed into a flat line, radiating a hint of a temper tantrum. “Come on up, Chloe.” The moment he spoke, we both froze. The memories of yesterday afternoon hit us like a tidal wave, and our eyes instantly darted away from each other. Oblivious to the tension, Mrs. Miller complained when we didn’t move. “You brat, why are you just standing there? Come down and bring Chloe up so she can sit by the heater.” Snapping out of it and terrified of looking arrogant, I forced myself to start climbing the stairs. Liam took two steps down, grabbed the books from his mother’s hands, and followed closely behind me as we went up. He led me into his home office and pulled out a chair, signaling for me to sit. Then he grabbed another chair and sat down right next to me. An English test prep workbook lay open on the desk, right next to a piece of scratch paper covered in messy, chaotic scribbles. Faint handwriting peeked out from beneath the scribbles. I leaned in closer to look. I barely made out the letter “C” before Liam snatched the paper away. Fine, don’t show me. I didn’t care anyway. “Did you come here specifically to tutor me?” Liam asked. Specifically? I was practically kidnapped off the street by his mother. Not wanting to give him the wrong idea, I shook my head honestly. When he didn’t say anything for a long time, I looked up. Liam’s face and ears were completely flushed. He was looking down shyly, twisting his fingers together. He peeked up at me through his eyelashes, then quickly averted his eyes again. My heart dropped. I think he misunderstood. His focus was on the fact that I didn’t come to tutor him. My focus was on the fact that I didn’t specifically come to see him. There was literally no safe way to answer that question. I stayed silent… A bizarre, suffocating awkwardness filled the room. “Hot cocoa!” Mrs. Miller suddenly pushed the door open, cheerfully setting down two mugs. After telling us to study hard, she thoughtfully closed the door behind her. The room plunged into silence once again. “Chloe…” His soft, kitten-like voice startled me. I quickly suppressed the butterflies in my stomach, violently flipped open the test prep book, and took a deep breath. “Alright, let’s start with the first reading comprehension passage.” Seeing the atmosphere turn strictly academic, I let out a secret sigh of relief. But as my eyes flicked over, they landed squarely on a red mark on Liam’s collarbone. The heater in the office was cranked up high. Feeling hot, he had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt, exposing it perfectly to my line of sight. The mark was dark in the center and faded at the edges. I instantly recognized it as a hickey—one I had definitely left there. Liam silently sat up straight, his long fingers swiftly re-buttoning his collar. I died of embarrassment on the spot. I wanted to dig a hole and bury myself in it. From that exact moment, the standard alphabet letters on the page started twisting and dancing in front of my eyes. My senses went into overdrive. The faint, crisp scent of his fruity cologne drifted into my nose, seeping straight into my chest and making my heart itch. He silently picked up his mug and took a sip. Feeling suddenly parched, I mirrored him and took a sip of mine. Maybe the heater really was too high. We chugged all three cups of water/cocoa in rapid succession. After finishing his third cup, Liam shook his empty mug and murmured, “Chloe, why am I getting thirstier the more I drink?” Pfft! I almost spit my drink everywhere. I barely held it in, but a couple of drops escaped the corner of my mouth. Liam’s hand shot out with a tissue. Before I could take it, he bypassed my hand, leaned in, and gently wiped my lip himself. His eyes grew darker, a heavy heat rolling behind them. His long fingers suddenly gripped my shoulder. By the time I processed what was happening, the owner of those hands had his eyes half-closed and was leaning in closer and closer. Liam’s eyelashes fluttered, his red lips parting slightly. I didn’t even notice when the buttons on his shirt had come undone again, revealing a generous expanse of his chest. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. Right as we were about to cross the point of no return, the door swung open. “I sliced some fresh fruit for a break—” “BANG!” Terrified, I jerked backward and tumbled right over the back of my chair, crashing onto the floor. Liam pulled me up, hastily buttoning his collar with one hand while snapping at his mom in frustration. “Mom! Why didn’t you knock?! “We were focusing so hard on the material, you scared us half to death!” I had no idea if Mrs. Miller saw anything, but my face felt like it was on fire. I pulled out my phone, shoved it back in my pocket, rubbed my butt, rubbed my head, picked up the workbook, and put it back down. I was flailing like an idiot trying to find an excuse. Finally, my brain supplied one: “My dog needs to be fed! I have to go feed the dog!” Without waiting for a response, I sprinted out of there like I was running for my life. The entire walk home, I was paranoid that Mrs. Miller had seen everything. I mentally noted that parents shouldn’t be so trusting. You can’t just invite any “tutor” into your house. It was below freezing outside, but I was sweating buckets by the time I got home. Who knew Mrs. Miller was cut from the exact same cloth as my mom? A woman of action. The very next day, Liam arrived right on schedule at my front door. 4 Mrs. Miller came with him, carrying bags of expensive gifts, her attitude incredibly warm, enthusiastic, and polite. She claimed it was just a small token of appreciation for me tutoring Liam. I looked in the bags. Premium health supplements, luxury skincare sets… these were not “small tokens.” My parents exchanged a look and absolutely refused to accept them. Mrs. Miller spun a few heartfelt stories, successfully buttering everyone up. Amidst the laughter, she patted Liam’s arm. “You silly boy, it’s rare that Chloe is home. Don’t waste time, go let your sister teach you.” Liam took the cue perfectly, standing up straight and saying politely, “Thank you for the trouble, Chloe.” Hearing this, I knew they were trying to isolate us into a private study session. My scalp prickled. I picked at my nails, shifting uncomfortably. “Oh, what a shame. We actually have to visit her grandmother this afternoon,” my mom suddenly announced as I was about to stand up. “Oh, no problem! He can just come back tomorrow,” Mrs. Miller replied smoothly. “Well, she might not have free time recently. Mrs. Jenkins set Chloe up with a few local boys. She has to go meet them.” Mrs. Miller gasped in shock. “Chloe doesn’t need blind dates! A girl as beautiful as her? Any family would fight to have her. Plus, she’s so young, there’s no rush.” She glanced at Liam and added, “Who knows, maybe Chloe already has someone she likes.” My mom waved her hand, looking dismissive. “She’s turning 27 after the New Year! And she has no guts. If there’s a decent match, she needs to meet them early before someone else snatches them up.” “That’s true. Liam isn’t getting any younger either. He’ll be 24 after the holidays. Speaking of which, I’m even more anxious…” My mom patted Mrs. Miller’s hand. “You have nothing to worry about! Liam is so handsome, I can’t imagine how many young girls are chasing him. You’ll have a headache just trying to pick one for him…” My dad and I watched the two moms expertly spar back and forth. My mom was essentially saying Chloe and Liam are not a match, while Mrs. Miller was aggressively hinting Chloe and Liam are a perfect match. After thirty minutes of psychological warfare, Mrs. Miller forced a smile, insisted Liam and I exchange numbers so we could coordinate our “study sessions,” and reluctantly left. I was a bit surprised and confused. The second Liam left, I grabbed my mom. “We aren’t going to Grandma’s this afternoon…” “You idiot!” My mom poked me in the forehead, looking at me like I was a lost cause. “Don’t let Liam’s pretty face fool you! “While we were chatting, his eyes were practically glued to your body! “Guys who are that smooth and pretty are never reliable!” She glared at my dad. “Especially guys in the contracting business! There’s too much temptation. Young girls throw themselves at them. They still have women chasing them when they’re 50!” Feeling targeted, my dad grumbled defensively, “Who are you insulting?! I have a clean record! I think Liam is a great kid. He’s honest and doesn’t have any bad intentions!” “Besides, is it our fault we’re handsome?” I sighed, suddenly feeling inexplicably annoyed. So, my mom didn’t like Liam.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445332”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When my arch-nemesis mocked me for being single since birth, I got so mad I pinched red marks on my own neck. “See this? My boyfriend gave me these.” He let out a cold scoff. “You? What man would ever want you?” Later, as I stood crying outside the OB-GYN clinic, my nemesis suddenly appeared, his face as dark as a storm cloud: “Who is the bastard? I’m going to beat him to death. “Stop crying. You and the baby—I’m taking you both.” 1 When I opened my eyes in the morning, I realized I was lying in bed with a man. Completely naked. But that wasn’t the scariest part. The scariest part was that the man was none other than my arch-nemesis, Grayson. Everyone in Manhattan’s high society knew that the bad blood between us was deeper than the ocean and wider than the sky. Last night, we were drinking at a club and lost a dice game, which meant we were forced to kiss as a penalty. After the kiss, Grayson leaned lazily back against the leather sofa, a wicked smirk on his face: “A little inexperienced there, Miss Maya. Was that your first kiss?” Furious, I secretly pinched a few red marks onto my neck and deliberately showed them off to him: “See this? My boyfriend gave me these~ “My man is… absolutely incredible in bed! He kisses ten thousand times better than you do.” Grayson’s expression instantly darkened. He stared coldly at the “hickey” on my neck, his eyes unreadable. Then he scoffed, “Maya, please. You? What man would ever want you?” I didn’t know if he was just pissed that he lost the game to me, but for someone who rarely drank, he got completely blackout drunk that night. I offered to drive him home, intending to snap some embarrassing photos of him wasted to use as blackmail. Instead, my plan completely backfired, and I ended up getting thoroughly railed by him all night long. Dammit! I bit my lip in frustration, trying to wriggle out of Grayson’s deep sleep embrace. The second I moved, he subconsciously tightened his arms around me, burying his handsome face into the crook of my neck and nuzzling me: “Mia… be a good girl… let me stay inside a little longer…” Mia? Oh, real classy. We’re literally still connected, and he’s mumbling the name of his high school crush! What a scumbag! It took every ounce of strength I had to escape that bed. The moment my feet hit the floor, my legs were so weak I almost dropped to my knees. The bedroom was an absolute disaster zone. There were suspicious wet spots on the sofa and even out on the balcony. Flashes of last night flickered through my mind. Grayson grabbing my ankles, gripping my waist, lifting me up… he even ripped my expensive tights to shreds. I wanted to slap myself. Why didn’t I fight back?! But when my eyes drifted back to the bed, my hand stopped in mid-air. That physique. Those muscles. That size. Honestly, who could have resisted? I’d just treat it as a free night with a premium escort. A very well-endowed one. 2 There’s an unwritten rule among us wealthy heiresses: keep your hookups a secret. Show some skin if you want, but never show the face. If word got out that I slept with Grayson, I’d never be able to show my face in New York again. Enduring the soreness, I swiftly destroyed all the evidence, scrubbing every corner of the room until there wasn’t a single trace I had been there. At one point, Grayson almost woke up, so I had to sell my soul and give him a few kisses and touches to coax him back to sleep. After sneaking out of his penthouse, I sat down at a nearby bodega, just about to breathe a sigh of relief. My phone suddenly rang. It was Grayson. He had clearly just woken up, his deep, magnetic voice slightly raspy: “Maya, where are you?” The moment he spoke, my brain involuntarily flashed back to him biting my ear last night, telling me to relax. My face burned fiercely. I stammered, “Wh-what do you want?” “Did you bring me home last night?” “Um, yeah. I… I was just on the way, and I wanted to see you make a fool of yourself while drunk.” Grayson didn’t snap back at me like he usually did. Instead, he asked in a low voice, “Did you sleep at my place last night?” I smoothly lied, “…Yeah, I had a headache from the drinks, so I crashed in your guest room. I left first thing this morning.” “You didn’t sleep in my bed?” “…No.” I gripped my phone guiltily. “In your dreams! Who would want to sleep in your bed?!” “…” Grayson fell silent. Just then, a frat boy walked into the bodega and bumped into my shoulder, making me let out a surprised yelp. Grayson’s voice suddenly turned freezing cold: “Are you with a guy?” I immediately played along: “Oh, yeah, with my boyfriend! We’re about to go have some fun. Now spit it out, what did you call me for?” Grayson’s voice was completely devoid of emotion: “Nothing. Must have been a dream. I’m hanging up.” What kind of dream? A… wet dream?! Good. Great. It was for the best if he thought that. I knew he wouldn’t figure it out. After all, I had ten years of experience cleaning up the crime scenes of my dad’s affairs. Just to be safe, after hanging up, I went on Instagram and posted a heavily cropped photo of me posing intimately with some faceless, muscular male model. I captioned it with three red lip emojis. Turns out, my little performance worked perfectly. For the next month, everything was peaceful. Grayson didn’t suspect a thing, and he didn’t reach out to me even once. I completely let my guard down. I threw a massive party, ready to let loose and have a good time. But before I could even swallow my first sip of champagne, I hurled it right back up. 3 The moment I got the lab results, my brain completely short-circuited. I was pregnant. Was Grayson a damn sniper in his past life? How did he hit a bullseye on the first shot?! Thinking about the doctor asking me if I wanted to keep the baby, my head pounded. I just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and escape reality. But the universe had other plans. I was still sitting on a chair in the OB-GYN waiting room when my mother called. “Maya! Mrs. Henderson just called me. She said she saw you at the women’s clinic. Are you pregnant?!” A sudden wave of grievance hit me. I desperately wanted someone to confide in, my voice choking up: “Mom, listen to me… I think I actually want to keep it—” But before I could even finish, my mother sharply cut me off: “Get rid of it immediately! “I’ve already found a suitable match for you to marry. You’re going to come home, get the marriage certificate, and help us secure that Upper East Side real estate deal. We need to stabilize your father’s attitude towards us…” I froze. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. My heart, and my entire body, went instantly numb. “Mom… you didn’t even ask how I’m doing, or who the father is, and you just want me to abort it?” “It doesn’t matter whose it is! Your illegitimate half-brother is climbing the ranks at the company! That mistress’s brat is trying to steal our inheritance!” “Mom, is that all you care about? Am I just a tool for you to fight for dad’s favor?” “Don’t act crazy with me! If you were a boy, do you think I’d have to fight so hard? It’s my own fault my womb was useless and gave me a daughter, but I’ve never mistreated you! I’m just asking you to marry someone, how can you speak to your mother this way?!” “Just asking me to marry someone? Mom, do you ever consider my feelings?!” My hand shook violently as I gripped the phone. “Just like how every time you need money, you force me to go catch dad cheating, pretend I’m on his side, clean up his messes, and use it to extort hush money out of him! “Mom, you might be willing to endure this twisted, toxic marriage, but I am not!” My mother was silent for a second, then said coldly: “I don’t care what nonsense you’re spewing. Maya, I am giving you one week to abort that child and come home to get married. Otherwise, don’t ever call me your mother again, and don’t expect a single cent from this family!” The line went dead with a cold beep. I couldn’t hold back the burning in my eyes anymore. Like a complete loser, I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. I didn’t even care that my phone had dropped to the floor. Through my broken sobs, a pair of polished, designer dress shoes appeared between the gaps of my tear-soaked fingers. “So this is what the great Maya looks like when she cries. Pretty ugly.” A deep, magnetic voice laced with amusement rang out above me. I snapped my head up, locking eyes with Grayson’s narrowed, calculating gaze. Wh-what was he doing here?! Realizing my makeup was probably ruined, I aggressively wiped my tears away and turned my face to the side. “Mind your own business!” Grayson kept one hand casually in his tailored slacks, not moving an inch, a smirk playing on his lips: “Where’s that muscle-head boyfriend you flexed on Instagram? Didn’t accompany you to your appointment? Did you get dumped? “Crying all alone outside an OB-GYN clinic… people might get the wrong idea.” I shot up from the chair. “Don’t talk nonsense! I am not pregnant! I’m not here because I’m pregnant!” The very next second, a nurse walked out into the hall and called out: “Miss Maya? Are you still booking the abortion procedure? If you don’t book now, we won’t have any openings left today.” Me: “…” Grayson clearly hadn’t expected it to be real. His eyes snapped toward me, his gaze instantly turning razor-sharp. “Maya, how far along are you?” As he spoke, he caught sight of the lab report I had left on the chair. He immediately bent down to grab it… 4 My heart almost stopped! I lunged forward, snatching the report right before his fingers could graze it, and hid it behind my back. That was way too close! If Grayson found out the baby was his, he would absolutely drag me into the operating room himself. “Grayson, what the hell are you doing?! A woman’s uterus is… private! You can’t just read my files! “You want to know? Fine! I am pregnant… 9 weeks along! So what? Are you here to mock me for getting knocked up out of wedlock?” I stuck my neck out and glared at him. Loud, proud, and completely full of shit. The elite acting skills I had honed from years of deceiving my father were really paying off. Grayson stared at me for a good ten seconds, apparently not finding any flaws in my performance. When he heard “9 weeks,” his expression grew visibly colder. Obviously, the timeline didn’t line up with the night I took him home. He asked abruptly, “The kid belongs to that muscle guy?” I mumbled guiltily, “…Yeah.” “He doesn’t know?” “…Wh-why would he need to know?” I forced a completely indifferent look onto my face. “Call him,” Grayson demanded, his face devoid of emotion. “Tell him to get down here. Now.” “…” How was I supposed to summon a man who didn’t exist?! I braced myself and lied: “He blocked me.” “Blocked you?” Grayson repeated the words slowly, his voice carrying the heavy, oppressive weight of a coming storm. “Maya, you’re usually so arrogant, always barking so loud. But now you let some trash guy use you and dump you, and you just sit here crying like a coward?” He was sneering, interrogating me, acting like he was furiously angry. Wait a minute, what right did he have to be angry?! Even if we were childhood rivals, mocking me in a moment like this was just cruel. I bit my lip in frustration and fired back: “Who said I got dumped?! I dumped him!” Grayson sneered, “Oh? Then why are you crying?” “I… I’m crying tears of joy, okay?!” Grayson fell silent. I thought he had finished enjoying the show and would finally leave. But after a moment of silence, he spoke again: “What are you going to do about the baby?” I blurted out without thinking: “I’m keeping it.” Honestly, when I was arguing with my mother on the phone earlier, breaking down and crying, a part of me wasn’t surprised at all. I had a strong premonition it would happen. If I didn’t abort the baby and go home to be her pawn, my mother would truly discard me, because I would be completely useless to her. People who have never been loved are always terrifyingly rational. This baby… might be the only real family I’ll ever have. “Keeping it?” Grayson let out a harsh scoff, his tone dripping with venom: “Maya, you are so obsessed with that naked muscle freak that you’d ruin your life to keep his bastard child? “Since when were you such a pathetic, love-struck simp?” See? He just wanted to watch me make a joke of myself. What a bastard! I didn’t want him to see me vulnerable and defeated anymore. I looked away, stood up, and walked right past him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445331”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Right before the holidays, the boss announced that the company needed “fresh blood.” With a wave of her hand, the HR manager fired me—the very person who had built the company’s tech from the ground up alongside him since I was just an intern. But what she didn’t know was that the code I wrote back then was an absolute mountain of spaghetti code. Aside from me, no one on earth could decipher what the scattered comments actually meant. Later, she brought in ten senior experts. Staring at a hundred layers of nested if…else statements, they fell into a collective, stunned silence. During Christmas Eve dinner, my phone blew up with calls from my boss, who had just returned from his business trip. 1 “Eat up, Stella! Here, your favorite pot roast and mashed potatoes!” It was the week before Christmas, and our extended family was gathered for dinner. Aunt Susan was enthusiastically piling food onto my plate. Under the table, my phone was buzzing so hard it was burning up. My cousin Rachel gave my flushed face a weird look. “Stella, are you okay?” “Do you guys hear a buzzing sound?” “No… nothing.” My heart was racing with excitement. The moment of reckoning had finally arrived. I sneaked a glance at my phone. The contact saved as Ex-Boss had relentlessly called me 125 times. Even through the screen, I could picture his absolute, devastating meltdown on the other end of the line. “Stella, I heard your company is going public soon,” my uncle chimed in. “You really had a great eye back then. Picking a tiny startup out of nowhere, and in just five or six years, it’s actually booming.” My parents’ faces darkened. “Oh, stop praising her. They laid her off.” “What? Wasn’t she doing great? Wasn’t she Employee of the Year?” Aunt Susan looked deeply confused. My dad angrily slammed his fork onto the table. “They claimed Stella’s tech skills were too outdated! Getting fired is one thing, but they didn’t even pay her a dime of severance! “What kind of scumbag boss does that? I told her to report them to the Labor Board! “But Stella insisted on stopping me, saying that if she sued her boss, she’d be blacklisted in the tech industry.” Aunt Susan sighed heavily. “What can you do? Stella has always been too kind-hearted.” The relatives murmured in sympathy, complaining about how brutal the job market was these days. Clutching my phone, I kept a deeply troubled expression on my face, while internally, I was light as a feather. “I need to step outside to take a call. “It’s the boss from my old company calling personally. It’d be bad if I didn’t answer. You guys go ahead and eat.” As I closed the dining room door, I heard Aunt Susan praising me: “See? That’s the value of technical talent! She’s been gone this long, and the boss is still begging for her.” 2 Half a month ago, I had a unilateral falling out with the boss. He had proposed bringing in “fresh blood,” and I was actually looking forward to welcoming new colleagues. HR recruited a few young guys. I heard they were all graduates from Ivy League schools. I walked them through the project workflows, and eventually, they started getting the hang of it. It should have been a happy occasion, but when the holiday bonuses were distributed, there wasn’t one for me. I went to HR. Chloe Davis looked at me with a conflicted expression, waving her freshly manicured nails in front of me. “Stella, there are some things Mr. Carter feels awkward telling you himself, and I hate seeing him put in a tough spot. “You’re turning thirty after the holidays. For us women, youth fades fast. You don’t have a boyfriend right now, and I’m sure your family will start pressuring you to get married and have kids soon. “Besides, how many female coders actually make it? When it comes to logical thinking, women are inherently a step behind men. “If you stay in this industry, you won’t have a future anyway. “You’ve been with Mr. Carter for a long time. You were involved in the very first projects; you’re essentially a company veteran. But why do you think everyone else got promoted, while you’re still at the bottom? “Liam is just afraid the company is holding you back. “You get it, right?” 3 This rapid-fire string of absolute garbage left me completely stunned. I had joined Liam Carter’s company right after graduation. I never expected that five or six years later, I’d be hit with such a pathetic excuse. “So what you’re saying is, because I’m a woman, you’re firing me on behalf of the boss?” Chloe smiled politely. “All you do at work anyway is slack off and read web novels. Our startup can’t afford to keep a mascot on the payroll. I’ve already submitted the termination paperwork, and your manager approved it.” “Stella, let’s save each other some dignity so we can part on good terms. You should pack up your desk today.” “Does Liam Carter know about this?” I asked suspiciously. “There’s no need to bother the CEO with trivial matters like this. At the end of the day, you’re just a base-level employee.” I gritted my teeth. Motherf*ers. Burning the bridge after crossing the river. “What about severance?” “Stella, for severance, we will calculate your salary for this month and deposit it in full. “You wouldn’t want anything negative showing up on your employment verification letter, would you?” I narrowed my eyes. Perfect. Now she was threatening me. “The smartest thing Mr. Carter ever did was hire me. And I don’t recall him ever instructing anyone to steal an employee’s severance package.” Chloe looked at me with pure disdain. “You don’t need to worry about that, Stella. Just pack your things. “Discuss the details with your manager.” 4 My department manager, Greg Jenkins, was a greasy, overweight guy in his late forties who constantly used “work” as an excuse to text me inappropriate things. Once, at three in the morning, he demanded I analyze a piece of code from six months ago. He claimed he was “evaluating my progress.” In his exact words: “It’s the end of the year, we’re all just sitting around anyway.” He used this excuse repeatedly to chat with me late at night. Meanwhile, I was juggling three massive projects and absolutely did not want to entertain him. Finally, my patience snapped, and I chewed him out during a team meeting. “I hope certain managers stop using work assignments to maliciously harass female employees. “I am a software engineer, not your late-night chat line. If you want to do an evaluation, submit a formal process plan. “I am officially refusing all sudden, unprompted late-night tasks.” Someone snickered in the meeting room. I stared dead at Manager Jenkins; even a blind man knew I was talking about him. Later, word of what I said reached his wife’s ears, and the two of them got into a massive physical fight in the middle of the night. She scratched two huge, bloody gashes across his face, which he stubbornly claimed was the family cat. That incident made him hold a permanent, vicious grudge against me. While the boss was away on a business trip, Greg colluded with HR to use the “company restructuring” as an excuse to fire me. Only an idiot would beg him for mercy. I simply packed my desk and walked out. 5 I finally answered the phone. An enraged male voice blasted through the speaker: “Stella Vance! You resigned?!” “Yeah, Liam. Your HR manager fired me. “Didn’t Manager Jenkins report that to you?” “Who the f*** fired you?! Get back in the office tomorrow!” Liam’s tone sounded like he was ready to murder someone. I shook my head, feigning distress. “I can’t. My termination paperwork is already processed. If I go back, my seniority starts from zero. “Besides, your company doesn’t offer standard severance. It wasn’t a legal layoff, and your HR discriminates against older, unmarried women. “I am definitely not going back.” He must have been in a conference room. Through the tense, suppressed silence over the phone, I could hear Manager Jenkins’ muffled, stammering voice: “Mr. Carter, aside from Stella, we have plenty of excellent programmers in the department. “For example, the new hires from the Ivy League are doing fantastic. Stella has been with you a long time, but her educational background is severely lacking. She only went to a community college. “Plus, she’s a woman. There are too many unstable factors. “Her work attitude has always been an issue too. She’s either chatting with people or browsing non-work websites.” The line went dead silent for a full minute. Even through the phone, I could picture Liam’s face turning black as pitch. I laughed out of sheer anger. A woman? What’s wrong with women? Is his mother not a woman? When I was pulling all-nighters and working straight through the weekends to launch a new version, he didn’t utter a single word of complaint! But the second promotion evaluations came around, suddenly my gender was an issue. And the “chatting” he mentioned? I was managing relations with our very first client, who also happened to be the company’s angel investor. When the startup first launched, there were no managers or HR. I ran around with the boss securing every single client, laying the groundwork for what eventually became the Operations Department. Except for one major client’s wife, who just loved chatting with me specifically, all other relations were handed off to Operations. 6 Liam let out a cold scoff and asked, “What is Stella’s monthly salary right now?” HR quickly replied, “Eight thousand.” Liam’s voice was deathly quiet, but I could feel the hurricane brewing through the screen. “I am giving you a budget of twenty-five thousand a month. Go find someone to maintain Stella’s core project and get the new version launched by the end of the month. “If you can’t do it, you two had better personally go to her house and beg her to come back. Otherwise, you two are the first to get the hell out.” Liam’s salary offer was 30% above the industry standard. Getting fired at this age from a gig like that was definitely a brutal hit for them. The call abruptly ended. A moment later, I refreshed my Facebook and saw a new post from Manager Jenkins: [There are always some ants who think they are irreplaceable. They think just because they’re a woman, everyone has to cater to them. Just wait and see.] The very next second, my phone buzzed with a new text message: [Wifey, please don’t be mad. Relax at home for a few days, and Hubby will take out the trash for you. (Kissing emoji)] I replied with an eye-roll emoji and instantly blocked him. When subordinates commit such a massive workplace taboo, the boss deserves to suffer by association! What Manager Jenkins didn’t know was that the reason I hadn’t been promoted all these years wasn’t because I was a woman, nor was it because I wasn’t important. It was because I genuinely enjoyed a low-stress lifestyle where I could just code a bit and relax. I just never expected that these people harbored such deep-rooted sexism against female engineers. This time, he had kicked a steel plate. Because the core project Liam demanded he maintain was built on the very first code I wrote right out of college. You couldn’t even call it code. It was a literal mountain of spaghetti. Except for me, absolutely no one could read it. It was a textbook case of high coupling and low cohesion, with abysmal maintainability, and absolutely zero comments. As my skills improved over the years, even I would cringe hard enough to crush a fly between my eyebrows whenever I looked at it. I couldn’t wait to see the look on those Ivy League geniuses’ faces when they opened the file and saw a hundred overlapping conditional statements. The best part? If you deleted even a single, seemingly useless line of my code, the entire system would crash globally. I was the only person alive who knew where to even begin fixing that project. If he wanted to refactor it, just analyzing a single module and untangling the workflow would take over a month. It was physically impossible for him to finish it, unless he forced the entire software department to work 24/7 without a single minute of sleep. And was that likely? They were there to work a job, not to torture themselves to death. The irony was, I had already finished the refactored version. It was just waiting to be deployed after the holidays. Well, too bad. That project was going to detonate right in Manager Jenkins’ hands. After all, the golden rule of programmers has always been: If the code works, don’t touch it.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445330”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel