Author: Momo Chan

1 Three years ago, that ridiculous game of Truth or Dare completely derailed the lives of Blake and I. Her childhood friend suddenly proposed a cruel wager, claiming he wanted to test the authenticity of our love. The condition was that after our divorce, we wouldn’t see each other for three years. I honestly thought she’d refuse such an outrageous demand. After all, we’d argued about it countless times. Her inappropriate closeness with her childhood friend had always been a thorn in our side. But she agreed without hesitation, even confidently telling everyone that she believed I was hers for life and we’d remarry in three years. I remained silent then, knowing in my heart that it was the last chance I’d ever give her. Now, three years have passed. She stands before me, a bouquet of roses in her arms, a confident smile on her face as she calls me “honey” and says she kept her word, she’s back for our remarriage. … Blake’s lips curved into a confident, slight smirk. “Are you mad?” “Alright, alright, I’m here, aren’t I?” “Come on, don’t be mad.” Her voice was sweet, doting, assuming I was just being childish and upset for attention. Just like old times, she reached out to embrace me. I took another step back, my expression hardening. “Ms. Blake, please keep your distance!” Her hand froze in mid-air, her gentle gaze still fixed on my face. “Really mad this time, huh?” “Name your price. Whatever it takes to make it up to you, I’ll do it.” She still confidently believed that a few sweet words would win me over, just like before. As she spoke, she took another step closer. Each step she took, I mirrored, retreating further. The conquering glint in her eyes intensified. “Blake, three years is a long time. Enough to change many things.” She nodded in agreement. “Indeed.” I backed up until I hit the wall, no more room to maneuver, my back pressed against the cool plaster. She placed her hands on either side of my head, cornering me, playing that old game again. Back when we were dating, she loved to pin me against a wall like this, kissing me deeply under the moonlight. Three years ago, after losing the dare, she’d divorced me at her friend’s insistence. Three years of no contact, not a single text or call. And now, she presumes I’d just sit around, waiting for her to come back and remarry me! A cynical smile touched my lips. Before I could speak, her phone rang. She pulled it out. The screen displayed a contact: “My Little Prince.” It was her special name for Brody. I’d seen it countless times, just as I’d seen her lovingly stroke his head, saying he’d always been her “little prince” since they were kids! Completely oblivious to my feelings as her husband then. She answered immediately. “Vivi, boo hoo hoo, come quick, my stomach hurts so bad.” Brody’s whiny cry came through the phone. Blake’s eyes instantly filled with worry. “Don’t be scared, I’m coming right back.” She hung up, then quickly brushed her hand over the top of my head, as if soothing a docile cat. “I need to check on Brody first. I’ll come find you later.” Before the words fully registered, she was gone. Brody, ever the showman, flaunted their relationship on social media, as he always did. The photo showed him lying with a sweat-drenched forehead on Blake’s lap. She was gently rubbing his stomach. His caption read: “She’s always loved me most, ever since we were kids. No matter how important the event, or how important the person, if I’m not feeling well, she’s always the first to rush to my side, offering care and love. She truly is the best woman in the world!!!” I casually tapped the ‘like’ button. Not just on this one, but on every single one of his posts over the past three years. Three years, 1095 posts showing off their “love,” and I’d liked them 1095 times. He found new ways to show them off every day. For instance, he didn’t work; Blake gave him a secondary credit card to spend as he pleased. He could live in the house Blake and I once shared. My belongings, he’d use if he wanted, or toss if he didn’t. In these three years, he and Blake had done everything a couple would do. I knew he posted them specifically for me to see. Each ‘like’ was my way of showing contempt and indifference. But Brody, in his warped mind, thought I was jealous, furious, desperately trying to get attention. The next time I saw Blake, she was with Brody, drinking coffee at my café. They wore matching caramel-colored outfits. Blake, who usually favored formal business attire, was dressed in trendy, casual clothes today. I used to suggest we wear matching outfits, but she’d always say she was used to suits and didn’t want to change her style. Brody surveyed my café with a look of surprise. Blake, puzzled, asked me, “I gave you so much money, why are you doing such hard work?” When we divorced, I asked for half of our assets. She gave them without a moment’s hesitation. I stopped making the coffee, my gaze flat as I looked at her. “Because I want to. And it’s none of your business.” Blake’s expression didn’t change. She still thought I was just mad at her. Brody offered a disingenuous greeting. “Hey, Ash, long time no see. How’s it going?” “Good.” Brody seemed surprised by my calm. Blake’s phone rang, and she turned to step outside to take the call. With just Brody and me left, his pretense dropped. His smile transformed into a triumphant sneer of provocation. “Don’t play hard to get. But don’t get too happy either.” He looked down on me, a slight chuckle on his lips. “Even if you remarry Vivi this time, what good will it do?!” “Her mother doesn’t like you. Her ideal son-in-law has always been me.” “Vivi only wants to remarry you out of a sense of obligation.” “Even this remarriage, she sought my approval first.” “And you’ll have to sign a prenuptial agreement.” “Oh, and I personally drafted that agreement.” He pulled a prenuptial agreement from his bag and placed it in front of me. I glanced at it dismissively. One clause stated that all of the Blake family’s assets were none of my concern. After marriage, I wasn’t allowed to call Blake’s mother “Mom,” only “Madam.” In public, I couldn’t claim to be the patriarch of the Blake family; I had to declare myself merely her ex-husband. These outrageous terms made me laugh sardonically. I pushed the agreement back to him. “If Blake’s mother likes you so much, why are you still without a title?” “Three years, and Blake still hasn’t committed to you. How pathetic.” Brody, furious and embarrassed, instinctively raised his hand to slap me. But just then, Blake’s approaching footsteps sounded behind him. He changed his expression faster than flipping a page, tears welling up, a mix of aggrieved and understanding. “Ash, I truly hope you can remarry Vivi.” “As her childhood friend, I just want her to be happy.” “This prenuptial agreement is just a formality. Don’t be mad, okay?” He was still as dramatic as he was three years ago. The moment Blake saw him cry, her mind would turn to mush, unable to distinguish right from wrong. “Brody, what’s wrong?” Blake pulled him closer, her eyes filled with concern for him. Brody shook his head, feigning a wronged expression. “Nothing, it’s my fault. Don’t blame Ash.” The more he spoke like this, the more Blake believed I’d bullied him. “Ash!” she snapped, her face cold. “Apologize!” Her tone was an undeniable command, like ordering a servant. A cold laugh touched my lips. She frowned in displeasure and chastised me. “Brody and I grew up together, he’s like a brother to me!” “He’s a very important person to me. Can you please stop being so hostile towards him every time!” “Even if it’s for my sake, can you be kinder to him, please?!” My face remained expressionless. I’d seen this scene countless times over the past three years. I was utterly sick of it! Just as I was about to ask them to leave, my phone on the counter vibrated with a video call. The screen displayed: “My Sweetheart Daughter.” I quickly grabbed the phone, and my two-year-old daughter’s adorable face appeared in the video. “Daddy, I miss you.” I quickly exchanged a few words with her. As Blake reached for my phone to talk to my daughter, I ended the call. “What daughter?! Ash, you have a daughter?!” Blake’s eyes widened. She reached for my phone again, but I dodged her. My face was cold as I spoke to her seriously once more. “Don’t bother me. You two are twisted, crazy people!” She didn’t get angry; instead, she just indulged her self-serving belief. “Alright, don’t be mad.” “I know you’re doing this to annoy me. That call was on purpose, wasn’t it?” I instantly understood that a person as self-absorbed as her wouldn’t believe I no longer loved her until she saw my wife with her own eyes. Suddenly, she spoke to me. “Mom’s birthday is in a few days.” “Your cooking is excellent. Prepare some of her favorite dishes.” “Use this opportunity to mend your relationship with her.” So, she knew. During our three years of marriage, I had been bullied by her mother for three years. Blake’s mother looked down on me, someone from a humble background. Even though I was Blake’s legal husband, Blake’s mother never allowed me to attend any Blake family dinners. In fact, if she was present, I wasn’t allowed to sit at the table. I didn’t like her either. Our relationship was precarious, a mutual state of ignoring each other. In that dynamic, Blake had always remained silent. A mocking curve touched my lips. I deliberately asked, “Blake, just hypothetically.” “What if I cooked a feast, and your mother still wouldn’t let me sit at the table?” She hesitated before replying, “You’re the junior, just say a few nice words to butter her up.” “You know how my mom is. All bark, no bite.” Brody deliberately suggested, “Ash, it’s not beneath a junior to beg an elder. Madam is most susceptible to being begged on her knees.” He was being sarcastic, implying I should kneel. I chuckled derisively, my eyes fixed on Blake’s dark ones, my voice serious and earnest. “Blake, three years. Things have long changed.” “I’m married, and I have a child.” Then, I turned to Brody. “Perhaps you should do more begging. You might just get into the Blake family.” Brody burst into tears, feigning distress. “It’s my fault for speaking out of turn.” He covered his mouth and ran out. Blake’s face suddenly turned ugly. She snapped at me, “How much longer are you going to be stubborn?!” Then she rushed out to chase Brody. My phone vibrated. It was a text from my wife: “Honey, project finished. Home tomorrow afternoon.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought, once Blake saw Eleanor herself, she wouldn’t be so self-absorbed about me anymore. The next day, as soon as I arrived at the café, the preschool teacher suddenly called. She said my daughter had been taken by someone claiming to be her biological mother and godfather. My heart leaped into my throat. I raced to the Blake family estate. There, I saw Brody had put my daughter in a dog kennel, playing with dogs and cats. My daughter was allergic to animal fur. She couldn’t touch either dogs or cats. My daughter was crying uncontrollably, her face flushed to her neck. Red allergy spots were already appearing on her neck. Brody ignored my daughter’s distress. Instead, he pushed the cat towards my daughter’s arms. “Don’t be scared, Annie. This cat is three years old, so she’s like your big sister.” “She’s your godfather’s favorite cat. Give her a hug, don’t be rude. Crying so loudly will scare the kitty.” My daughter raised her hands in fear, trying to avoid it. The black cat’s sharp claws scratched several marks on my daughter’s face. My daughter cried even louder. Brody said gently, “You’ve scared the cat,” but his eyes held a threatening glint as he glared at my daughter. “Who told you to touch my daughter?!” I charged forward, enraged. I was just about to reach for my daughter when Blake suddenly appeared, wrapping her arms around me from behind, pulling me back a few steps. “Brody was just being kind, trying to give her more playmates.” “Ash, you adopted this child, didn’t you? It must be hard raising her alone.” My eyes were bloodshot with fury. I spun around and slapped her. A clear handprint bloomed on her face, which was already on the verge of “cracking.” “My daughter is allergic to cat and dog fur!” “Her playmates are never animals!” I turned again to pick up my daughter, but Blake grabbed my wrist with a firm grip. Brody wore a pitifully innocent expression as he looked at me. “It’s my cat’s third birthday today. She really likes playing with kids.” “I just thought, with Annie coming back to the Blake family, they should get acquainted first.” As he spoke, his black cat clawed wildly at my daughter. It left crisscrossing scratch marks on my daughter’s arms, neck, and face. He deliberately added, “Don’t worry, my cats and dogs are regularly vaccinated. They’re very clean.” “I even sleep with my cat every day.” Seeing my daughter’s face, crying so hard she was almost gasping for breath, my heart raced with anxiety. I struggled against Blake’s grip. She held me tighter, soothingly. “Children shouldn’t be raised too delicately.” “The Blake family fortune will be hers someday. We need to build her courage, she shouldn’t be afraid of a mere cat.” Suddenly, my daughter’s eyes closed, and she collapsed. I screamed in panic, “She’s going into anaphylactic shock!” Blake finally realized the seriousness of the situation. I rushed over, picked up my daughter, and ran to the hospital. Blake and Brody followed. While my daughter was being treated in the emergency room, the doctor handed me a consent form for risks. “Please, the child’s father or mother needs to sign this.” Blake eagerly spoke up. “I’m the child’s mother. I’ll sign it!” As she reached for the consent form, a commanding voice echoed from behind. “Since when was my daughter your daughter?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “435835”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years ago, my family sent me to the “Perfect Husband Academy.” It began when my wife, Jenny, brought home an AI butler named Caspian. After that, I became a ghost in my own home. Jenny said I only cared about work. My daughter, Annie, thought I wasn’t as good as “Papa Caspian” with homework or technology. Even my parents would say if I were half as steady as him, they’d be enjoying their retirement. Once, during an argument, I broke Caspian’s processor. Jenny screamed at me, pushing me away. Annie looked at me with fear and dislike. My father said I couldn’t handle work or family, and had a terrible temper—I was worse than a machine. They said I didn’t know how to be a husband, father, or son, so they sent me to the academy to learn. I was forced to this correctional facility for men, swapping places with Caspian. Now, three years later, my “rehabilitation” is done. My wife, daughter, and parents have come to pick me up for “graduation.” They call my name through the glass. I sit quietly, posture erect, showing no reaction. The dean reminds them that to speak to a qualified perfect husband, they must use the wake-up phrase. He says, “Please say: Perfect Husband Mode, activate.” … 1 Jenny stands outside the car. My parents stand beside her, their eyes a little red. Ten-year-old Annie peeks out from behind Jenny, her eyes curious. “Perfect Husband Mode, activate!” I blink, stand straight, hands at my sides, and bow ninety degrees. “Perfect Husband Mode activated. Please state your command.” My voice is flat, like an electronic announcement. Jenny stares at me for three seconds before saying, “Get in the car. We’re going home.” On the way back, my mother’s voice trembles. “Ash, my boy, how have you been these past three years… in there?” I don’t answer. “Ash.” Jenny’s brows furrow. “Mom is asking you a question.” “Interrogative sentences are not valid commands,” I say, looking at the road ahead. “To retrieve information, please use clear, imperative statements.” My father coughs sharply. After a moment, Jenny utters two dry words. “Report.” “Yes.” I respond instantly, like a recording playing. “Student Ash, number 7749, has completed all core courses, including ‘Efficient Income Generation and Asset Planning,’ ‘Absolute Emotional Management and Stress Endurance,’ ‘Family Needs Prediction and One Hundred Percent Responsibility Implementation,’ and ‘Integration of Traditional Husbandly Duties and Modern Family Roles.’ Graduation comprehensive assessment: Excellent. Academy evaluation: A model perfect husband for the new era, excelling in both career and family, recommended as a benchmark for promotion.” Every word is precise, steady, and cold. My mother’s eyes widen in astonishment. Annie whispers, “Daddy sounds just like Uncle Caspian.” Jenny’s knuckles whiten as she grips the steering wheel. When we arrive home, Caspian stands at the door, a perfectly polite smile on his face. “Madam is back.” His voice is gentle as he takes Jenny’s bag. “Annie got a perfect score on her math test today; the paper has been put away. Dad, Mom, your herbal tea is brewed; have some to relax.” Finally, he looks at me, his smile impeccable. “Ash, welcome home.” I don’t respond. He hasn’t used a command. “Ash,” Jenny’s voice deepens. “Caspian is welcoming you.” “No command for response or greeting received,” I reply. Jenny’s voice rises. “Here’s your command now: Thank Caspian! Thank him for taking care of the family during this time.” I turn to Caspian and nod. “Thank you.” Caspian’s smile doesn’t waver. “It’s my pleasure.” Dinner is an eight-course meal with soup, prepared by Caspian. In the past, they always complained that I was a workaholic, either working late or dealing with work at home, forgetting family birthdays, neglecting household chores, not being a “qualified” husband and father. “Caspian’s cooking gets better and better,” my father says. “It really does, even more refined than a high-end restaurant,” my mother agrees. Annie eats with her cheeks puffed out. “Uncle Caspian’s food is the best!” Jenny picks up a piece of spare rib and places it in my bowl. “Eat.” “Command confirmed: Ingest.” I pick up my chopsticks, take the spare rib, put it in my mouth, chew twenty times, swallow, put down my chopsticks, place my hands back on my knees, and wait. Everyone at the table stares at me. “Just… just one piece?” My mother’s voice is dry. “Academy rule: Dinner intake not to exceed two hundred grams. This piece of spare rib is approximately one hundred twenty grams, exceeding the limit, and will be deducted from tomorrow’s breakfast portion,” I reply. Jenny slams her chopsticks on the table. The whole family falls silent for a moment. After dinner, I stand up to clear the dishes. Caspian tries to help, but I step aside. “Please do not interfere with task execution,” I say. Caspian withdraws his hand and looks at Jenny, a hint of appropriate helplessness in his eyes. Jenny rubs her temples. “Let him do it.” I enter the kitchen and take over the dishwashing. Water flow, temperature, detergent ratio, wiping frequency… I strictly follow the academy’s standard procedures. The dishes gleam like new, the sink counter spotless. My mother leans against the kitchen doorway for a long time, finally unable to resist. “Ash, you… you don’t have to be so…” “Cleaning task completed. What is the next command?” I turn off the faucet, pivot, my hands at my sides. Her words catch in her throat, and she eventually just waves her hand. Later that night, Jenny lies beside me. I can smell her faint perfume, a floral-fruity scent I bought for her three years ago. “Ash.” Her voice softens. “Look at me.” I turn to her, my gaze direct, devoid of emotion. “Do you hate me?” she asks. 2 I respond, “Command unclear, unable to execute.” Jenny starts to speak, then stops. She turns to face me, trying to get closer. I immediately tense my body, even holding my breath. She sees my eyes, empty, without warmth or desire, only a blankness awaiting a command. “What…” Her voice is hoarse. “What did they do to you at the academy?” I don’t answer. It’s not a command. She turns away in frustration, her voice low, as if talking to herself. “…Never mind, let’s sleep.” The next day is Annie’s school sports day. She starts complaining early in the morning. “Daddy, please don’t be like before, just talking on the phone about work, or making a stern face saying my movements aren’t standard. It’s so embarrassing.” I put down my chopsticks. “Command confirmed: Maintain focus in public, do not handle work communications, do not provide technical guidance. Would you like me to simulate Caspian’s behavior? Data shows he typically offers encouraging smiles, provides electrolyte drinks after races, and says, ‘Annie’s happiness is most important, rank doesn’t matter.’” “Daddy! I don’t want you to be like him!” Annie’s eyes redden. I nod. “Command modified. According to the schedule, the sports day begins at nine sharp. I will now prepare related items.” As I leave the dining table, I hear Annie’s choked sobs of grievance. “Daddy’s so weird, old Daddy never talked to me like this, I want Daddy to go back to how he was!” Midway through the sports day, while helping Annie organize her things, an old injury flares up. It was from a few years ago when Annie was running around a shopping mall and almost hit by a falling decoration. I dove to shield her, and a sharp object pierced my lower left abdomen. I lost a lot of blood and stayed in the hospital for a long time. Jenny cried many times by my bedside, calling me her and Annie’s hero. A sharp pain shoots through my lower back, but in the academy, such unnecessary pain must be suppressed or ignored to maintain a hundred percent family pillar status. When I first entered the academy, I was punished with electric shocks for moaning in pain during training. Any display of weakness or failure in emotional control would result in more severe physical punishment. I stand on the sidelines, my face pale, watching Annie and Caspian run a “father-son” relay race. Caspian’s movements are standard and full of vitality. Onlookers say enviously to Jenny, “Your husband is amazing. Successful in his career, yet so dedicated to his family, and great at sports too.” Jenny just forces a smile. Caspian walks over, holding Annie’s hand. “Is Ash feeling unwell?” He looks at me, his eyes showing concern. “You look a bit pale.” “Negative. My physical system is operating normally,” I say, standing straighter, even though it exacerbates the pain. “Do you have any commands?” Jenny sees the cold sweat on my forehead and my tightly pressed lips. She suddenly reaches out, wanting to touch my forehead. I react as if struck by an electric current, recoiling sharply and bumping against the railing with a dull thud. People around us look over. Jenny’s face is terribly strained. “Mommy! Daddy, Daddy’s bleeding!” Annie suddenly points at my wound, alarmed. Jenny and she seem to remember something, not even bothering with others, rushing to take me to the hospital. On the way home from the hospital, Annie insists on sitting next to me, pressing close. She’s grown taller than three years ago. Her gaze on my wound becomes careful and hesitant. “Daddy, does it still hurt?” “You don’t even say if it hurts,” Jenny says, staring straight ahead, her voice stiff. “Pain perception does not affect task execution,” I reply. “According to the ‘Perfect Husband Code’: Males should properly manage their own health and emotions, avoiding their impact on family atmosphere and members’ moods. Recommendation: Ignore.” “Shut up!” Jenny suddenly roars, slamming her fist on the steering wheel. The car instantly falls silent, Annie too scared to speak. After a long moment, Jenny says in a hoarse voice, “Command: You are permitted to express discomfort.” “Yes,” I reply immediately. “Current lower back old injury pain index is approximately 7, within tolerable range. Recommendation: Use academy-provided muscle relaxant patch. Expected relief within forty-eight hours, will not affect fulfillment of family responsibilities. Recommendation: Ignore.” Jenny says nothing more, just drives the car faster. When we arrive home, Caspian prepares ointment and hot water for me. My father says with concern, “Look how thoughtful Caspian is. You, you never knew how to take care of yourself before, and now you…” I don’t hold it steadily, and the scalding hot water spills on my hand. My father exclaims, “Quick, get the first-aid kit! Ash, that must hurt so much!” My face is expressionless. “Command error, unable to execute.” A large blister forms on the back of my hand. My father is shaking with anger. “What’s with the commands, you’re a human being, can’t you feel pain?!” “Caspian, quickly help Ash with this.” Caspian walks over and professionally treats my burn, a perfect and reliable smile on his face. That night, I hear them discussing, deciding to contact the academy to find out what went wrong with me. 3 The academy’s response is that I am this year’s most outstanding graduate of the Perfect Husband Academy, and all my actions are to support the family. But my mechanized language and emotionless responses make them uncomfortable. “This is all normal. Only this way can he be the most perfect husband, father, and son in your eyes.” They are skeptical, but for the next few days, they follow the dean’s instructions. I wake up at five to prepare breakfast for the family, drop off and pick up Annie from school, work efficiently remotely during the day, check Annie’s homework in the evening, give my parents massages, and at night, fulfill my husbandly duties to Jenny according to “commands.” Her body is warm. I used to love holding her to sleep, but now I feel nothing. In a moment of intimacy, she feels something isn’t right on my hand and quickly turns on the light. My hand, burned that day, hadn’t received follow-up treatment and is now inflamed and festering. “Ash! Your hand!” I look up and ask, “Task completed. What is the next command?” She freezes, then drives like a madwoman to take me to the hospital. While the doctor treats me, I don’t make a sound, not even a frown, just calmly describe the state of my wound. The doctor looks at me in surprise, then at Jenny, his expression complex. After treating the wound, the doctor says the infection is deep; any later, and the function of this hand might have been impaired. Back home, my father looks at me, his eyes red. This man, usually so stern. “Ash…” His voice chokes as he reaches out to pat my shoulder. I step back, avoiding his touch. “Non-essential physical contact may interfere with task execution efficiency and stable image,” I say. “Recommendation: Control emotions to avoid impacting family atmosphere.” My father’s hand freezes in mid-air. He looks at me as if I were a strange machine. He suddenly turns to Jenny, his voice trembling. “Jenny, you signed the papers back then! You sent him in! Now he’s like this, it’s all your fault!” Jenny’s face pales. My mother sobs, her eyes red. “It’s my fault too! Why didn’t I stop you then! Why did I believe that academy’s nonsense! Saying they could teach Ash to be a pillar… a perfect husband…” “Look at him now!” She points at me, her finger shaking. “Does he even resemble a human anymore?! He’s like a machine! Like a puppet with a set program! Is this my son?! Is this the son I raised?!” My father embraces her. “Don’t say it… don’t say it…” “I will say it!” My mother struggles, tears streaming down her old face. “I can’t take it anymore! Seeing him like that, I hurt! My heart aches! I’d rather he was like before! At least he had a temper! He’d talk back! He’d argue with us! At least he was a living person! And now? What is he now?!” She collapses onto the sofa, covering her face and weeping bitterly. After that, they start being “nice” to me. My parents tell me not to work too hard. Annie plays simple games with me. Jenny no longer tries to be intimate with me, just gently leans against me. Their attention seems to have fully returned to me, and Caspian is often “idle.” The day Annie gets first place in her midterm exam, she throws her arms around my arm, cooing playfully. “Daddy hasn’t taken me out in ages. I got first place this time, and I want to go to the amusement park and eat the cotton candy you buy.” Caspian tries to follow, but Annie refuses, and my parents also tell him to stay home. He stands in the entryway, his expression completely unchanged. When Jenny returns home early from work, I’ve just handed the cotton candy I bought to Annie. After a few bites, Annie suddenly clutches her stomach, curling up and groaning, her face paling. The whole family panics. Caspian initiates a scan. “Detecting unidentified allergen residue in food.” He looks at me because I bought and provided the cotton candy. Jenny, holding Annie, is both shocked and furious. “Ash, is there something wrong with the cotton candy you bought?!” “Command confirmed, food was purchased and provided by me.” “I’m asking if you added anything or bought the wrong thing!” Jenny yells. My parents have already called emergency services. Caspian retrieves the shopping records and family health database, which shows I “ignored” Annie’s history of allergy to a certain dye, and purchased cotton candy containing that ingredient. Jenny, livid, slaps me across the face. “Ash, I thought three years of training would have changed you, but you’re still so careless! No, you’re heartless now! Annie has a history of allergies!” My mother pushes me, crying, “We’ve been so careful with you, how could you still make such a mistake! What did you even learn, how to harm your own daughter?!” My face swollen, I repeat again and again, “Command error, no harmful action executed. According to purchase command, chosen highest-rated store.” Jenny trembles, roaring, “Shut up! You useless piece of trash who can’t even take care of his own daughter, why don’t you just die!” “Just die!” I blink, look at their hateful faces, and respond calmly. “Command confirmed.” “Die.” Amidst their cries, I turn and walk towards the kitchen.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “435834”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband, Aaron, and I were supposed to go on our honeymoon to Bali. At the boarding gate, he suddenly stopped, his expression casual, and spoke. He said our love had received everyone’s blessings, so he wouldn’t be going on the honeymoon. I froze, completely unable to process it, only able to stare blankly and ask him what he meant. He smiled, took off the wedding ring from his ring finger, and gently placed it in my palm. He told me he had a “canary” he needed to tend to constantly and had already promised to be with her. He also said that marrying me had already made him indebted to that woman; I got the title of Mrs. Morris, and she got him, which he considered fair. My head buzzed, my lips bit until they bled, and I tremblingly asked him when this had happened. His tone carried a hint of apology, yet he seemed innocent, saying it had been going on for half a year. He hadn’t dared to bring it up because of my fiery temper. He said he’d wanted to marry me since he was a child, but a man couldn’t possibly love only one person his entire life. He even suggested that if I felt wronged, we could each “play the field,” and it pained him to see me upset. The wedding ring in my palm still gleamed with a pure white light, but the pregnancy test tucked in my pocket felt searing hot, as if about to burn. I smiled, though tears streamed down my face, and nodded at him. I said he was right; I shouldn’t wrong myself. 1 Aaron paused for two seconds, then smiled and ruffled my hair, a relieved chuckle escaping him. “Good, glad you’ve come to your senses. With your temper, I was genuinely worried you’d go after Rosalie.” “Oh, by the way, where did you put your wedding dress? I was a little too rough with her last night; her nail caught the lace on the skirt lining. She’s been meaning to fix it for you.” It felt as though someone had clamped their hand around my throat. A chill spread from the soles of my feet through my entire body. He, however, seemed oblivious, smiling apologetically. “She was crying, begging me to let her try on your wedding dress, wanting to be my bride just once. You’re both women, you can understand, right?” I looked at his flippant gaze, and three hours ago, I recalled how, supported by my best friend, I had been walked down the aisle, wearing this very wedding dress — a symbol of happiness now stained with my husband’s and his mistress’s lust — to be given to the man before me. A wave of sickening nausea instantly surged into my throat. The ring dug into my palm, and I trembled with pain. He took off his overcoat and draped it over my shoulders, gently embracing me, soothing, “Why are you shaking? Mrs. Morris will always be you.” Aaron’s charming eyes still held an impossibly deep affection. It was as if he wasn’t the one who had just casually mentioned messing around with another woman for a year, engaging in passionate embraces while she wore my wedding dress. A jarring sense of absurdity washed over me, leaving me gasping for air. He sighed in resignation. “I know you’re upset, but the young lady is willing to be with me without any status, and she’s even generous enough not to contend for your position as Mrs. Morris. If I don’t spend more time with her, what kind of man would I be?” “Rosalie is different from other women, very pure and self-respecting. If she didn’t truly love me, she would never be a ‘canary.’ She’s sacrificed so much for me; I can’t let her down. Even though you have a fiery temper, you’ve always been reasonable, you understand me, right?” Love? I almost laughed until tears came. I loved him too. My temper was indeed fiery, yet in front of him, I softened, making myself humble and accommodating. I was reasonable, yet I would stubbornly hound paparazzi over a scandalous rumor about him, arguing with respected elders to clear his name. My love he ignored, another woman’s love he cherished. I curled my cold fingers, closing my eyes in self-mockery. “If you’re so in love, then let’s get a divorce.” Aaron paused for two seconds, then chuckled softly. “I just complimented you on your improved temper, and now you’re going to make a scene?” “You’ve been with me since you were eighteen, and you’ve had two miscarriages. If you leave me, what man out there would dare take you on?” I stared at him, my heart feeling like a red-hot coal had rolled over it. Twenty-eight years. We’d escaped the orphanage together, slept under bridges, shared a single bowl of instant noodles. During our toughest times, we only had water to fill our stomachs. Because we had no money for birth control or abortions, I endured the freezing cold, climbing stairs only to fall down them, bearing the pain and crying until I was exhausted as I lost two children. Aaron knelt by my bedside, stabbing himself twice. His blood-stained hand tremblingly covered my eyes, his words ringing in my ears, “Charlotte, I promise I’ll give you a good life. If I ever wrong you, may I be struck by lightning.” The promise was heavy. I believed it for half my life and was willful for half my life. The physical harm, the mental stress, the mundane drudgery of everyday life… all meant I couldn’t always have a gentle temper. Until half an hour ago, when Aaron held me and solemnly promised our friend he’d be good to me forever, I thought following him had been worth it my entire life. My phone rang. The ringtone was distinctive. It had appeared many times in the night, and Aaron always said it was a client. Because I trusted him so much, I never doubted. Now I realized how foolish I’d been. He didn’t answer immediately, his voice calm, as if placating an unreasonable child. “Why bother with a mere distraction? Are we really going to abandon our twenty-eight years together because of an outsider?” “You’re not young anymore, Charlotte. No parents, no job. Only I will support you. Any more drama, and it won’t be appropriate.” He handed his luggage to his assistant. “I’ll have my assistant accompany you to relax. I’m going to be with Rosalie. Think carefully about what I’ve said.” The moment Aaron turned to leave, he answered the phone. “Baby, Daddy’s on his way…” That word, “Daddy,” felt like a slap, sharply stinging my face. I ran to the restroom, gagging until my face was streaked with tears. Taking out the searing hot pregnancy test from my pocket, I pulled out my phone and made a call. Aaron was right; I shouldn’t wrong myself. Too weak for a honeymoon, I dismissed the assistant and walked alone towards our marital home. Entering the password, I opened the door. A faint, intimate gasp from a man drifted out. “Could your uncle and aunt have been prescient? Naming you Rosalie is truly fitting.” “Ever since I’ve been with you, I’ve barely touched her. I told her I was ‘sexually repressed,’ except for that one time I tricked her into giving me the property deed to transfer the house to you.” “She’s pitiable? The position of Mrs. Morris is hers. The one I need to compensate now is you.” “So kind-hearted. How about Daddy gives you his life?” Each brazen, flippant word, laced with disdain, assaulted my ears. I stood frozen in the doorway, my body tingling as if shocked. Six months ago, Aaron had shown me a diagnosis report for “sexual repression,” his face full of apology. “Honey, our future marital life might be compromised. Please don’t leave me, okay?” I felt sorry for him, trying every way to please him, but it was always fruitless. Until two months ago, when he suddenly came home drunk and we were intimate. I thought my efforts had finally worked, but it was just a reluctant act for him to set up a property for his canary… That’s when I conceived the child. Though it was the warmest part of early spring, I felt as if I were in a world of ice and snow. An hour later, Aaron emerged from the bedroom, arm-in-arm with a strikingly beautiful woman. Seeing me in the living room, Rosalie reacted as if greatly startled, her eyes instantly reddening. “Sister, it’s all my fault. This is your and Aaron’s marital home. I shouldn’t have come here, but I really loved this villa so much. I thought you were away on vacation and wouldn’t run into me, but I didn’t expect…” She suddenly pouted, bursting into tears. “Please don’t blame Aaron, and please don’t kick me out. I truly love Aaron, I’m not here to break you two up, I’m here to join you.” With that, she dropped to her knees before me, kowtowing repeatedly. Aaron’s face instantly changed. He urgently pulled her into his arms, comforting and soothing her gently. “Didn’t I tell you not to hurt yourself no matter what you do? Why don’t you ever listen? It pains me.” “Oh, never mind. You’re naturally kind and simple; you’ll never change. I’ll just have to protect you more.” He looked at me, a flicker of complexity and impatience in his eyes. “Charlotte, you’ve scared her. I should have known you wouldn’t leave quietly. Now that you’ve caused a scene, are you happy?” The sudden rhetorical question left my mind blank for a moment. I hadn’t said a single word since I entered the house. This villa was Aaron’s and my marital home. I was his legally wedded wife, Mrs. Morris. Yet, for his canary, even witnessing the culprit who destroyed everything was a mistake. Seeing my sarcastic smile, Aaron’s eyes flickered. He suddenly released Rosalie and walked towards me, his voice softening. “Alright, both of you are my darlings. You’re both equally precious to me. From now on, the three of us will live in this villa together.” “This afternoon, there’s a banquet. Come with me.” Just as I was about to refuse, Aaron interrupted me. “Rosalie is going too. It’s her first time at such an event. You can help her with her dress and lend her some support.” I froze, finding it ridiculously amusing. Then, remembering the little time I had left, I didn’t argue further. Before the banquet, Rosalie claimed she had no suitable dress and picked out a unique couture gown and accessories from my wardrobe – the ones I had worn as Mrs. Morris for Aaron’s company’s IPO debut. She walked in, arm in arm with Aaron, while I held her train, becoming the center of attention. The guests’ ridicule followed me like a shadow. “Mr. Morris really knows how to manage a wife. His wife holds up his mistress’s skirt and dares not utter a peep.” “They call her Mrs. Morris, but really she’s just a glorified maid, worse than a dog.” “This Charlotte Price must be an idiot, used for over two decades and gained nothing. She might as well be dead.” I fled the banquet hall, wanting to hide in the restroom. Instead, a sharp slap landed on my face. Clutching my stinging cheek, I stared incredulously at the woman before me. Rosalie flexed her wrist, the facade of gentleness stripped away from her face. “Aaron and I were like that right in front of you, and you still shamelessly cling to him. Aren’t you pathetic?!” “You garbage, born of no mother and raised by no one, divorce Aaron quickly, or one day, you might lose an arm or a leg, and that wouldn’t be good…” My head buzzed. All I saw was the woman’s sharp, vicious face, her mouth constantly opening and closing. I laughed in fury, but Rosalie didn’t give me a chance to retaliate. She suddenly shrieked, tore open the chest of her gown, and fell backward. “Charlotte Price!” Aaron rushed over from the center of the banquet, helping Rosalie up and pulling her into his embrace. She cried, unable to stand, tears flowing instantly. “Aaron, I know I’m the other woman, and I ruined your marriage with Miss Price. I already know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have appeared. I’m a vicious wretch!” With that, she repeated her trick, slapping herself twice hard across the face. Aaron grabbed her hands, his jaw clenched. “Who said those things?” Rosalie bit her lip, clutching her clothes tightly. “Please, don’t ask.” But as her eyes swept over me, her body trembled. “Someone like me can’t afford to offend rich and powerful ladies like you. Aaron, I was too naive, thinking love could conquer all. I’m not worthy of you. Please let me go. I don’t want to be inexplicably killed one day.” Aaron’s brows knitted tightly, his gaze fixed on me, hostile. “Explain!” I lowered my hand, revealing my swollen, red cheek. “You should ask her what she said.” “Miss Price!” Rosalie shrieked, her voice sharp and piercing. “Yes, I slapped you, but that was because you threatened my parents’ lives! They’re just ordinary people. If you’re still not satisfied, let me hit you back. Please, don’t hurt them.” My eyes turned red with anger. “You’re lying! It was clearly you…” “Enough.” Aaron cut me off coldly, looking at me with disappointment. “Charlotte, I’ve spoiled you rotten.” “Do you think because you have no parents, I can’t touch you?” Perhaps I had expected it, or perhaps I had already grown disheartened. I offered a futile smile, my eyes burning with pain. “So, how do you plan to protect your darling?” He slowly walked towards me, deliberately pulling off the good luck charm he had personally made for me, the one around my neck, when he earned his first fortune. He turned and instructed his assistant, “Call the police. Mrs. Morris has committed theft, caught red-handed.” I forgot how to move, my mind a blank. Aaron’s path to success hadn’t been easy; he was accustomed to ruthlessness. I was his only weakness. Regardless of right or wrong, he had always taken my side over what was logical. But now, he was the one plunging the knife into my heart. Aaron caressed the good luck charm, his cold features growing increasingly unfamiliar in my blurred vision. “Charlotte, you’ve been a very naughty girl. Go inside and reflect for a few days.” “Don’t worry, it won’t be long. When you come out, I’ll put the good luck charm back on you myself.” I gave a sarcastic twist of my lips. As the police officer walked in, handcuffing me, I expressionlessly pulled my hand from his grip. The sudden emptiness of the touch made Aaron frown uneasily. He stared at my retreating back, a nagging feeling that he could never hold onto me again. Just as he was about to step forward, Rosalie took his arm first. “Aaron, thank you for sticking up for me. I was so scared just now.” Aaron clicked his tongue, playfully pinching her cheek. “What do you want as compensation?” Rosalie smiled, taking the good luck charm from his hand and tossing it into the trash. Seeing his face change, she immediately pouted, her eyes reddening with feigned grievance. “Is it that important?” Rosalie made a move to rummage through the trash. “Then I’ll help you find it. After all, it’s a memento from your childhood. Even if she hurt me, I don’t want you to be troubled.” Aaron put his arm around her waist, completely softened. “You’re much more important. Don’t get your hands dirty. Here’s my black card, buy whatever you want.” Rosalie defiantly refused. “I don’t want your money, I only love you.” “Yes, yes, I want to spend money on my darling. If you don’t spend it, I’m not happy.” Rosalie then reluctantly accepted. Three days later, I was disoriented as I was led out of the confined room. I was escorted straight into a private room at a club. Pushing the door open, Aaron and Rosalie were sharing a grape in the center of the sofa. The grape dropped, and they leaned in, kissing passionately. The cheers and catcalls of the men and women around them almost blew the roof off. I don’t know how long passed before Aaron finally saw me standing in the doorway. He stared at my gaunt, pale face, his expression immediately darkening. “What’s wrong? Did someone bully you in there?” Before I could speak, Rosalie let out a derisive snort. “Sister Charlotte really knows how to manipulate men. With your relationship with Aaron, who would dare bully you? That sickly makeup you’ve put on looks so realistic; it must have taken you ages.” Aaron, who was about to stand up, settled back down at her words. He took out a cigarette, lighting it with the flame Rosalie offered. The smoke blurred his features; only his eyes, looking at me, showed suppressed impatience. “Since you’ve reflected enough, come over and apologize to Rosalie.” Rosalie, dressed in white, sat obediently nestled in Aaron’s arms, swirling a glass of unknown strength liquor. “Actually, I don’t want to make things difficult for you either.” “But you insulted my parents and threatened to kill them. Anyone would be upset, right?” She paused, then, remembering something, let out a strange exclamation. “Oh, I forgot. Your parents abandoned you when you were little. If it weren’t for Aaron, you would have starved to death by now.” I said nothing. Aaron’s face was grim, and he remained silent. Rosalie placed her drink on the coffee table and smiled. “Drink up.” I lowered my head. “I’m sorry.” Rosalie shook her head. “Just saying it isn’t sincere enough. This drink is 120 proof. You should drink it.” I stared at the bubbling green liquid, instinctively looking at Aaron. In the years I helped him build his empire, I had already developed a perforated stomach from drinking at business functions. Every time I drank, I ended up in the ICU. From then on, Aaron never let me touch alcohol again. But the man before me now merely exhaled a puff of smoke, his indifferent expression as if saying the weather was nice today. “Charlotte, it’s just one drink. Your tolerance isn’t that bad.” I had long given up hope, but my heart still tightened uncontrollably. I picked it up and swallowed. The scorching pain seared from my throat down to my stomach. My lower abdomen sank, and I stumbled, doubled over in pain. “Miss Price’s alcohol tolerance is so good, then drink a few more glasses.” Rosalie pointed to a row of colorful drinks on the table. My face went cold. Rosalie looked at Aaron, her expression aggrieved. “Aaron, I was called a mistress, threatened with my parents’ death, and suffered such immense emotional damage. Is it too much to ask for this small compensation?” “Of course not too much,” Aaron said, putting his arm around her, grinding his cigarette butt into the ashtray. “Charlotte, I want to help you too, but you went too far. Listen to Rosalie. Once she’s appeased, you can atone.” I nodded calmly. Clutching my stomach, which felt like it was being twisted by a knife, I picked up the decanter on the table. “A few drinks aren’t enough for atonement. I’ll chug the bottle.” When the bottle hit the floor, I couldn’t help but cough up blood, collapsing weakly onto the ground. Rosalie recoiled several steps in disgust. “Miss Price, it was just one bottle of wine. Do you really need to use a blood bag?” Aaron was also convinced by this reasoning, his brow furrowing impatiently. “Alright, how long are you going to keep up this act? Rosalie has been merciful enough to you. Stop making a spectacle of yourself and get up.” I said nothing, looking up at him. The woman closest to me suddenly shrieked, “Blood! Her pants are covered in blood! This is… she’s having a miscarriage…” I met Aaron’s instantly bloodless face, revealing my most genuine smile of the day. “Your child is also compensated to her. Is that enough?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “435833”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was right there when John dragged her ex-boyfriend, Lucas, into the hotel room. She turned to me, a cold sneer twisting her lips. “Haven’t you always doubted me?” “Well, now I’ll do everything right in front of you.” Soon, the room filled with the blush-inducing sounds of gasps and whispers. In that moment, I knew with chilling clarity that John and I were completely over. After that, no matter what she did, I never felt jealous again, nor did I ever confront her. Once, a broadcast reported a rumor about her and Lance. Hearing it, she immediately turned off the radio, eager to explain herself to me. I simply replied, nonchalantly, “I know. Those are all false.” But she still wasn’t reassured and continued to explain frantically. I couldn’t help but smile, telling her, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. I won’t tell Mom and Dad.” She slammed on the brakes, her face instantly turning ashen. 1. The moment John took Lance to that hotel room, our relationship ended. When I heard her and Lance’s names combined again, praising them as a match made in heaven, I didn’t crumble as I’d imagined. Lance was a social media influencer, gaining many followers by filming his daily life as an overseas student. A month ago, a live photo he posted on social media featured John. In the image, John’s figure flashed by, along with a box of condoms. Soon, someone dug up John’s identity. The live photo quickly became a trending topic. In Lance’s comment section, fans were asking: [Lance, tell us honestly, are you in love?] [This woman looks like the CEO of the Vinc Group.] [Wow, the woman in the GIF looks so beautiful.] Seeing these messages, I stood frozen. The conspicuous condoms in the photo brazenly declared the relationship between a man and a woman, and I felt a chill run through me. Back home, I waited for John’s explanation. She simply dismissed it in a few words. “Just a misunderstanding.” Seeing no reaction from me, she added: “I’ve already had them take down the trending topic.” After that, Lance’s name frequently appeared in my life. I heard colleagues gossiping at work. Every one of his posts was precisely pushed to me by big data. His and John’s rumors intensified. Netizens speculated widely about their relationship. 2. That weekend, John was away on a business trip. My best friend and I had made plans to go to a hot springs resort. There, I saw John and Lance. John was wearing a bikini, her perfect figure exposed to the air, with a suit jacket draped over her. Lance’s shirt collar was slightly open, his sleeves rolled up, and his suit trousers hugged his long legs, his posture casual and relaxed. Walking side by side, they looked like a match made in heaven in the eyes of others. John tilted her head slightly, listening to Lance speak. I don’t know what he said, but they both smiled in sync. I watched them enter the same private room. I followed, and inexplicably, pushed open the door. My mouth moved faster than my brain, uttering the accusing words: “John, you and Lance went to a room and slept together, didn’t you?” I froze on the spot. Everyone in the room turned to stare at me. John looked at me, her eyes indifferent. She withdrew her gaze, her thin lips parting slightly. “Assistant Chen, close the door.” I almost forgot how to breathe. John’s attitude made me feel embarrassed and humiliated. I lost all desire for the hot springs. After greeting my friend, I left the resort. John returned home that evening. I felt apologetic for what happened that morning, but I couldn’t help but feel wronged. A bitter sourness surged from deep within me, and I couldn’t suppress it. I couldn’t help but ask her. “John, did you cheat on me?” “What’s your relationship with him?” She glanced at me indifferently, her attitude cold and distant. “Ethan, what kind of relationship do you want me to have with him?” “In front of so many people, did you consider his future position?” My mind stalled, my heart sinking little by little. Her indifferent attitude was like a knife, piercing my heart without mercy. John glared at me coldly, then withdrew her gaze and disappeared from the living room. 3. After that, we fell into a cold war. John frequently went on business trips. The complete breakdown happened at one of John’s hotels. I saw Lance and John appear together in the hotel lobby. They took the elevator together to the penthouse suite. I followed them. “John.” She and Lance both stopped, turning to look at me. I asked her: “Your ‘business trip,’ was it actually taking your ex-boyfriend to a hotel room?” John just sneered. “Alright, haven’t you been suspecting me of cheating?” “Do you want me to show you everything, right in front of you?” She grabbed Lance’s arm and pulled him into the suite. Her eyes, dark and deep, fixed on me. “What, aren’t you going to come in and see what happens between him and me?” With that, John slammed the door shut. My eyes burned, my throat tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t say anything. As I stepped into the elevator area, an unknown number called. The caller didn’t speak, only the faint, fragmented gasps of a woman came through. I froze for a long time… This ambiguous sound confirmed that John and Lance had crossed a line. My nose instantly stung with pain, and I knew John and I were truly over. I hailed a cab and left. Sitting in the car, I scrolled through Lance’s secondary social media account. His high school and college accounts had been dug up by netizens, and his relationship timeline with John had been meticulously compiled. He and John were high school classmates and started dating after graduating high school. They both went to King’s University, in different majors. Through Lance’s account, I seemed to see a different John. John would patiently accompany him to take photos at various trendy spots and even learned photography for him. She went with him to Disneyland, to the beach. Lance’s secondary account was filled with the pink sweetness of their love. The words he shared conveyed the strong affection between him and John. [She specially honed her photography skills for me; she loves me more than I love myself.] Under this post, someone commented: [Lance, I’m your junior, I also got into King’s from King’s First High. I heard about you and senior John in high school. You guys are so sweet, wishing you two forever.] John replied to the junior: [Thank you, he and I will be together happily.] The long-dormant King’s University forum buzzed with discussions about John and Lance again. [John and Lance were a match made in heaven at our school back then, but later Lance went to study abroad, and they seemed to break up.] [So, it’s a rekindled romance now?] [I have a bold guess: Lance seems to come from an ordinary family; it would be hard to afford his overseas studies, right? Could John have paid for it? That’s even more swoon-worthy, CEO John “working” domestically to support her husband.] John flew to California every year, and Lance’s alma mater was located in California. My hand, holding the phone, trembled slightly; I dared not overthink it. 4. Ten minutes after I arrived home, John also got back. Her clothes were neat, and she looked perfectly composed. My eyes were still a little red, and I didn’t meet her gaze directly. John stepped forward and took my hand. She explained to me. “Nothing happened between him and me.” “Tonight, those were just words spoken in anger.” She explained, but it was too late. I nodded gently. “I understand.” I didn’t speak to her for the entire evening. The next day, not feeling well, I took a cab to work at the hospital. When it was time to leave, I suddenly didn’t feel like going home. My colleague was on night duty but needed to attend his child’s parent-teacher conference, so I covered his shift. Tonight’s night shift was very busy. Several emergency patients were admitted. Only when I came out of the operating room did I see over a dozen missed calls on my phone. Liam, my colleague, rushed back after the parent-teacher conference. “Ethan, thanks a lot.” “I heard several emergencies came in tonight, and you did another surgery. You must be tired.” “I brought you a bubble tea.” I didn’t stand on ceremony with Liam; I took the bubble tea. “Thanks, Liam.” “I’m heading out then.” Liam smiled. “It’s I who should be thanking you.” It was almost midnight when I left the hospital. I had taken a cab in the morning, and I took one back now. After getting in the car, I properly checked my phone. All the missed calls were from John. She had sent messages: [Where are you?] [I’m waiting for you in the hospital parking garage.] I was already in the car. [No need.] [I’m on my way home.] Shortly after I arrived home, John also rushed back. Since that day, my feelings for her had changed. Her sudden return home made me feel a little lost. We stood facing each other, and I only felt extremely awkward. John’s gaze, however, was fixed tightly on me. I avoided her eyes. Seeing her, I would think of Lance. I would remember her pulling Lance into the hotel, and Lance’s call softly murmuring in my ear. I would remember everything about her and Lance’s relationship over the past few years. I used to share everything that happened at the hospital and what I ate each day with John. I was always the one trying to find topics to talk about. Now, I realized we had almost nothing to say to each other, making the entire space extremely quiet. It made me recall Lance’s diary entries during their relationship. [How can she talk so much? I’m almost falling asleep, and she’s still going on about what happened in the lab today.] Thinking of that, my heart suddenly tightened. John abruptly spoke. “Weren’t you on day shift today? Why are you so late?” I could feel her eyes on me. I didn’t meet her gaze, turning my back to her and walking to the dining table to pour water. “Mhm.” I didn’t explain, nor did I bother to. There was no need to be so clear with her. When I turned around, she was standing in front of me. Her thin lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something. I spoke first, and she swallowed her words. “I’m going to take a shower first.” When I came out, John was standing at the door. I was startled. Our eyes met unexpectedly, and I nodded awkwardly. Lying awake at night, my mind wandered. Just lying in the same bed made me feel uncomfortable. 5. John wakes early. By the time I wake up, she has already washed up and changed. Breakfast is laid out on the table. John’s expression is cool and aloof. Seeing the breakfast spread, I get a little lost in thought. I think of Lance’s social media posts again. [Last night I said I wanted a sandwich for breakfast, and when I woke up, I saw her in the kitchen preparing it for me.] [Her cooking is getting better and better.] Someone commented in the comments section: [Senior is so lucky.] Lance replied: [Hehe, I wish you could also find your own happiness.] Until John calls out: “Ethan.” “Breakfast is ready.” I snap back to reality and glance at the time. “You eat. I don’t have time.” A hand grips my arm. John’s narrow eyes look at me. Her gaze is deep. “There’s time. I’ll take you.” I sit down and eat a few bites casually. “Tonight, Grandpa wants us back at the old house for dinner.” “I’ll pick you up from the hospital in the evening.” I nod. “Okay.” As I stand up, John also rises. Her voice is rather cold. “I’ll take you.” I reject her without hesitation. “No need.” Her brow furrows slightly, and I immediately leave. 6. Liam and I ate lunch together in the cafeteria. Liam brought up the topic of going to Riverton for further study. He sighed. “Oh, my son has his college entrance exam this year, I don’t have time to go.” “Families like ours at the hospital certainly aren’t willing to go.” “And newly married doctors, it’s even less likely they’d go.” I said, “Liam, if you’re not going, I will.” Liam paused. “Ethan, are you sure?” I nod. “Yes, I want to take this opportunity to learn.” After lunch, I immediately contacted my supervisor and filled out the application form. Towards the end of my shift, John called me. I put it on speakerphone, and Liam and a few colleagues happened to walk by, looking at me with gossipy smiles. “Ethan, girlfriend?” I smiled, denying it. “No.” John said, “I’m in your hospital’s underground parking lot.” “Okay, I’ll be right down.” In the dim parking lot, a woman stood beside a black G-Wagon, her figure tall and slender, her back cool and aloof. I walked towards her. Unexpectedly, I ran into Liam in the parking lot. Liam smiled as he walked towards me, his eyebrow raised slightly. “Ethan, girlfriend?” “She’s not bad-looking.” My mind quickly whirred, and I spun a lie. “No, she’s my cousin.” John looked at me, her gaze deepening. Liam understood, losing his gossipy interest. “I’m heading off.” Once in the car, John’s throat subtly moved as she turned to face me. “Why did you say that just now?” I explained frankly. “I didn’t want my colleagues to misunderstand.” John paused slightly, her brow imperceptibly furrowing. “Misunderstand?” The car drove out of the parking lot. The familiar voice of a marketing account on the car’s entertainment channel was broadcasting. “Vinc Group CEO John Davies and influencer Lance Miller were recently spotted together at a new resort in Riverton. John was wearing a sexy bikini, and Lance draped his suit jacket over her. The two exuded immense sexual tension.” John immediately turned off the radio. She explained, “You were there that day, and there were other business partners present.” I replied, with a light, calm tone, “I know.” John spoke again. “Nothing happened between him and me.” I smiled thinly, assuming she was worried I’d tell our elders. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret. I won’t tell Grandpa.” John slammed on the brakes, her face suddenly turning pale. She looked at me, emotions swirling in her eyes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “435832”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The thought of a second marriage shattered for good that night. The man who once pulled me from the depths of despair was now screaming at me, eyes blazing red. The acrid smell of the air freshener stung my eyes, my throat constricted, unable to utter a single word. “A used-up, second-hand woman, still pretending to be innocent with me every day?” “Your ex-husband sold two thousand of your five-dollar intimate photos!” “If you had half the passion in bed as you did in those photos, do you think I’d go looking for fun elsewhere?” He finally snapped, shoving me to the floor. The air freshener clattered, shattering into pieces. “And tonight? Did you have enough fun with that flower vendor again?!” “Last time you said you just ‘rubbed up against her’ and didn’t ‘go all the way,’ and then she got pregnant!” I pressed harder, like a madwoman, until streaks of blood seeped from his thigh. But tonight, the moment he walked in, the choking scent of flowers from his collar had assaulted my nose. Usually, when he felt guilty, he’d let me rage, let me be unreasonable, swearing repeatedly that he’d never do it again. Every day he came home, I’d drag him into the bathroom, armed with a scrubbing brush and disinfectant, furiously scrubbing the inside of his thighs. Since discovering Greg’s infidelity, I’d developed a severe scent aversion. I sat numbly on the floor, staring at this man who was both familiar and a stranger. … Before I realized the surge in my nose, drops of blood were already splattering onto the bathroom tiles. Greg’s face instantly went pale. He fumbled, wiping my face clumsily with his sleeve, his voice tinged with regret. “Darling… is it the psychosomatic symptoms again?” “I’m so sorry, I got carried away. Please don’t scare me; I’ll get your medicine right away.” He stumbled out of the bathroom, the sound of drawers being frantically pulled open and shut echoing from the living room. I pushed myself up, bracing against the cold sink, then collapsed weakly onto the sofa. On the coffee table, a vase held a bouquet of roses, already withered and black. I stared blankly at the dead flowers, lost in thought. Five years ago, I sat just like this in my ex-husband’s living room. To win back his childhood sweetheart who had returned from abroad, my ex-husband secretly took intimate photos of me. Five dollars a piece, he sold two thousand of them online. The torrent of disgusting, vulgar comments completely drowned me. Then Greg appeared, staying by my side every day as I faced the whispers and gossip. He pulled me out of the abyss, and we got married. To keep me happy, he’d bring me a bouquet of flowers every day after work. Sometimes roses, sometimes daisies. Until the day he didn’t come home all night, returning the next morning with a bouquet of lilies – flowers I was allergic to. Enduring the hives, I found explicit photos of the flower vendor on his phone. When confronted, he knelt by the bed, weeping, his eyes red-rimmed, begging for forgiveness. He claimed he’d been drunk after a work event, mistook her for me, and only hugged her in bed, never “going all the way.” I believed him. But not long after, the flower vendor showed up on our doorstep, heavily pregnant. Greg dragged her to the hospital to terminate the pregnancy. He held my trembling body, vowing he would never do it again. … “Iris, where’s the medicine? Why isn’t there anything in the drawer?” Greg’s frantic searching broke my trance. He stood in the living room, his face etched with worry. I slowly stood up, leaning against the sink, stuffing tissues into my nose. “The medicine ran out ages ago.” I looked at him, my voice eerily calm. “I haven’t seen a doctor in a long time.” Greg froze, the empty medicine box trembling in his hand. The living room fell silent, save for his heavy breathing. His eyes filled with remorse, and he quickly walked over to me. “I’m so sorry, Iris. I’ve been too busy lately.” He reached out to embrace me, his voice laced with self-reproach. “I’ll take tomorrow off. I’ll go with you for your check-ups every day from now on, okay?” The moment he finished speaking, his phone, resting on the coffee table, rang. An unsaved number flashed on the screen. Greg’s body stiffened. He glanced at me, then walked onto the balcony to answer. From the other end of the line, a woman’s tearful gasp could be heard. “Greg, someone’s causing trouble at the shop, please come help me!” Greg’s brow furrowed. He grabbed his jacket, speaking into the phone as he headed for the front door. “Just put some ice on it yourself for now. I’ll be right back as soon as I deal with this.” The sound of the door closing echoed, leaving me alone in the house. I laughed derisively, throwing the withered flowers into the trash. If her happiness took precedence over mine, then I might as well give up my position as his wife. 2 I tucked the early pregnancy test results, which I’d intended as a surprise, to the bottom of my bag. Then I pulled out my suitcase, ready to pack. But a glance at the critical condition notice on the table made me pause. My mother-in-law had severe kidney failure; the doctor said she didn’t have much time left. I thought back to these past few years, how she’d tearfully held my hand, calling me the savior of the Stone family. She swore that the Stones would only recognize me as their daughter-in-law and would cherish me like their own child. The year Greg cheated, she even beat him black and blue with her cane, declaring that even if my marriage with him ended, she would still consider me her goddaughter. My heart clenched. The next second, my phone vibrated. A message from a friend. “Iris, I finally managed to get hold of that expensive foreign miracle drug you wanted to acquire!” I sighed, and eventually picked up my car keys. I decided to see this mother-in-law bond through, hoping for a good outcome for everyone. My phone was dead, so I didn’t think much of it. Without warning, I drove directly to the private estate where my mother-in-law was convalescing. My clothes were drenched from the rain as I carefully shielded the box of life-saving medicine in my arms, pushing open the slightly ajar front door. Inside, the heating was on full blast, chasing away the chill of early winter. But the desolate scene of a gravely ill woman I’d imagined was nowhere to be found. I froze in the entryway, my mind momentarily blank. In the living room, my mother-in-law, who should have been bedridden, was glowing. She was holding a two-year-old boy wearing a birthday hat, beaming with joy. A nanny was cutting a two-tiered car-shaped cake nearby. I stood stiffly, instinctively stepping back to check the house number. I thought I had come to the wrong house, or perhaps some distant relatives had brought a child to visit. But the next second, my gaze swept past them, fixing on the family portrait in the center of the living room. Greg, my mother-in-law, Lily and the boy in her arms. Only I was missing. And this spot, whenever I had visited before, was always covered with a red cloth. My mother-in-law had simply said it was because the area got dirty easily… But now, what more was there to understand? An instant, violent ringing swallowed my hearing. I trembled all over, staring intently at the boy’s face. His features, his outline, were exactly like Greg’s. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Hearing the commotion, my mother-in-law turned and saw me, dripping wet. The smile on her face froze instantly, and panic flickered in her eyes. She hurried over, reaching for my hand. “Iris, what are you doing here suddenly…? Please let me explain, things aren’t what you think…” I stiffly lowered my head, desperately trying to suppress the tremors wracking my body. “Not what I think? Then whose child is this? And what about the photo on the wall?!” My mother-in-law opened her mouth, knowing that no amount of cover-up would work now. She sighed heavily and simply confessed. “Iris, since you’ve seen everything, I’ll tell you the truth.” She took a breath. “I truly pity you! You were ruined by those hooligans back then, unable to be touched by a man. But our Stone family can’t be without an heir!” I stood rooted to the spot, listening to my mother-in-law’s earnest pleas in my ear. “Greg was drunk and confused back then, but the child is innocent…” She went on, “Don’t worry, you’ll always be the Stone family’s only legitimate daughter-in-law! I’ve already signed an agreement with that woman; she’ll be a hidden joke for the rest of her life!” I pulled at the corners of my mouth. My gaze drifted to the healthy, lively child nearby, and for a moment, I didn’t know who the real joke was. So the “bastard child” Greg swore he’d aborted, not only was born, but was already two years old. I stared at her numbly, my heart feeling as if a large hole had been gouged out of it, cold wind rushing through. After a wave of nauseating sickness churned in my stomach, I pushed my mother-in-law away and rushed out without looking back. “Iris, what are you doing?!” My mother-in-law called out, her voice muffled as if through a film of water, completely distorted. I ignored her, plunging headfirst into the cold, rainy night. 3 Back home, I pulled out the suitcase I had prepared earlier, stuffing clothes into it with an expressionless face. But it wasn’t long before the front door clicked open with a passcode. I thought it was Greg, but to my surprise, Lily walked in casually with her child. Seeing me, a defiant glint flashed in her eyes. “Iris, Greg was too tired last night. He’s still sleeping at my place.” She settled onto the sofa as if she were the lady of the house. “I just came to get his ID.” She explained. “The little one will be starting preschool in a couple of years, and we need his father’s identification for early registration.” I fought against the churning nausea in my stomach, turning my back to her. “Grab what you need and get out.” She didn’t leave. Instead, she laughed even more brazenly. “Iris, don’t be so angry.” She continued, “Greg only has this one child, after all. This house will be mine and my son’s eventually. Is there anything wrong with me bringing my child here early to get familiar with the environment and learn the place?” The little boy was rampaging through the living room, smashing toy cars everywhere. I was about to step forward to stop him when I heard a sharp “crash!” A violent shattering of porcelain echoed from the balcony. That orchid, placed on the most prominent shelf, had been knocked to the ground by the little boy. Its vibrant green leaves were crushed, soil mixed with shattered pottery fragments splattering everywhere. My mind let out a deafening “buzz,” blood rushing to my head instantly. When I was little, my parents weren’t around. My grandmother was the only one who raised me. This orchid was the only relic she left me before she passed. It was my last cherished memory and source of warmth in this world. Red-eyed, I rushed over and shoved the boy, who was still carelessly stomping on the orchid leaves. “Get out! Get out with your bastard child!” The boy stumbled, fell to the ground, and burst into uncontrollable sobs. Lily’s face instantly changed. She rushed over, fiercely shielding the child. “Iris, what’s gotten into you?! A barren woman who can’t have children, how dare you lay a hand on my son!” She looked at me, trembling, her taunts growing crueler. “No wonder Greg said touching you made him sick. You’re just a dirty, second-hand woman!” She spat. “Greg even showed me those intimate photos of you being dragged into that alley. Five-dollar photos of you in 101 poses, bought by 2000 men who used them to ‘get off.’ You think I don’t know?” I felt as if struck by lightning, all the blood in my body flowing backward in that moment. Greg had clearly promised he would spend a lifetime healing my wounds. Now, he had personally torn open my scars and turned them into fodder for his mistress’s after-dinner entertainment! Overwhelming hurt and rage completely consumed my reason. I raised my hand, putting all my strength into it. I slapped her hard across the face. “Get out!” The sharp sound of the slap resonated throughout the living room. Lily’s head whipped to the side from the impact. She clutched her instantly reddened and swollen face, staring at me in disbelief. “You’re a complete lunatic…” she muttered. Then, clutching her child, she scurried out the door. The door slammed shut with a bang. I knelt amidst the muddy mess on the floor, frantically trying to pick up the shattered orchid leaves. Tears streamed down, blurring my vision completely. I couldn’t bear to stay in this disgusting marriage for another second. 4 My hands trembling, I swallowed my antidepressants, then headed out to deliver the divorce papers to Greg. Just as I reached the dimly lit utility room beside the corridor, familiar footsteps approached. Greg stormed from the stairwell, grabbing my neck and pinning me against the load-bearing wall. “Where did you hide little Leo?!” I struggled to break free from his grip, feeling the nausea that I had just suppressed return with full force. “Cough, cough, cough… What Leo? I don’t know…” “Still pretending!” His eyes were bloodshot, his voice echoing in the stairwell. “Lily said you went crazy and hit the child, and then he disappeared! Who else could it be but you?!” Blood rushed to my head. “I told you I haven’t seen him. If you don’t believe me, check the security footage!” “Iris, you’re just stalling!” He suddenly grabbed my hand, roughly dragging me into the abandoned storage room next to the rooftop. With a “bang,” the iron door slammed shut, plunging the room into instant darkness. I struggled to get up, but Greg pinned me down, his knee pressing hard against my leg. He violently ripped my skirt. The world before my eyes blurred, leaving only the ringing in my ears. “Let go of me!” He sneered, pulling out the high-concentration cleaning solution I carried in my bag, which had spilled on the floor. The next second, the cold, pungent cleaner was uncapped and brutally poured all over my thighs. A fiery, stinging pain instantly scorched my skin. “You can’t have children yourself, so you hurt someone else’s?!” He spat. “Let me see, this area of yours… it’s been touched by many people, hasn’t it?” He sneered, “What’s with the innocent victim act? After all those people used you, you probably loved every minute of it, didn’t you?!” I struggled, trying to run out, but Greg slapped me again, sending me crashing to the floor. “Didn’t you think about this day when you kidnapped Leo?” He growled. “I need to make you understand that my patience has limits!” The overpowering smell of chemicals, the man’s brutal restraint, the absolute darkness. Those vicious words instantly merged with my ex-husband’s curses. Countless dirty hands tearing at my clothes in that alley flashed madly through my mind. My stomach churned with overwhelming nausea, and I let out a desperate cry, kicking at him with all my might. In the violent struggle, my lower abdomen slammed hard against the sharp, rusted edge of an abandoned metal frame nearby. A muffled “thump.” An unbearable, searing pain instantly shot through my entire body. Warm blood, mixed with the pungent cleaner, slowly flowed down my thighs onto the cold concrete floor. I convulsed in pain, seemingly dragged back into that surreal world of memory. My ex-husband’s cold indifference as he allowed his beloved to leak my intimate photos, the overwhelming mockery from classmates and friends. “This stuff is strong; one sip and you’re out. Just shoot, any way you want!” “Such a loose woman, why don’t you just die?!” My vision flickered in and out, until the liquid beneath me felt hot, then tight and dry. Only then did Greg’s hands cease their brutal work. His phone suddenly rang in his pocket. He released his grip, answering the call and putting it on speaker. The hurried voice of the building security guard came through. “Mr. Stone, we found the child!” The security guard announced. “The little guy was playing around and got on a bus. He’s perfectly fine at the terminal; false alarm!” In the darkness, Greg was stunned for a moment. Then, with a relieved sigh, he pushed open the locked door. Sunlight streamed in, a little blinding. I looked up blankly. The rain had stopped, but the rooftop was still overcast. Faintly, I thought I saw my grandmother’s figure in the sky. Greg hung up the phone, remorsefully turning his head. He had just opened his mouth to say, “Iris… I’m sorry…” But I ignored him, gathering every ounce of strength, and suddenly rushed towards the edge of the rooftop! Greg’s face instantly went pale. “Iris!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “435831”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 After three long years, I could finally lift my hand. This sudden, miraculous ability made me forget the stiffness in my body as I slowly, painstakingly, crept towards the bedroom door. The gasping sounds from beneath the crack in the door were like ice picks stabbing into my ears. Kris Essen’s profile, illuminated by the warm glow of the monitor, looked utterly alien. On the screen, Mindy Hickey’s smug smile shimmered with triumph. “Regret it?” Mindy’s voice, full of mockery, cut through the air. “If it weren’t for Summer Bloom saving you back then, you wouldn’t be begging me like a dog for her treatment money.” The air solidified for a few seconds, until the flush on Kris’s ears betrayed his answer. “Regret it.” The two words slammed into my chest, making my heart ache. So, all those nights of devoted care were just an act; he had been tired of this life for a long time. I turned and crawled back, the floor scraping my skin raw. My fingernails tore back, oozing blood, but I felt nothing. As the wind from the balcony whipped into my collar, I suddenly smiled. Kris, the release you want, I’ll give it to you. The moment I plunged off, I heard myself say: I’m free. … The wind howled past my ears, yet I felt a freedom I hadn’t known in years. Warm blood pooled beneath me. A cold gust blew, making me shiver. Before my eyes closed, I felt a deep sense of relief. At least it was night. No one would come out, no one would be scared. I hoped when Amelia Price found out I was dead, she wouldn’t be sad. Thinking of what she had just said, I felt even more at ease. She wouldn’t be sad. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the room. Amelia had just finished getting dressed and was heading towards my bedroom. She must have heard the thud of my fall. She called my name, asking if I was okay. But before she could pull open the bedroom door, Kris Essen’s voice stopped her. “Amelia, get back here! Do you have to ruin my mood right now?” Amelia’s hand rested on the doorknob. She paused, then closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She returned to the computer, attempting to negotiate with Kris. “That’s enough. I have to take Leo to his doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning. I need to prepare the necessary documents in advance.” Kris clearly paid no mind to her refusal. “I’m not done yet. Go to the supermarket downstairs and buy a box of condoms. Come over to my place and we’ll continue.” Amelia glanced at the time. “It’s too late today…” Kris leaned closer to the screen, a smirk on his face as he stared at her. “Late? Usually at this time, we’re just getting started, aren’t we?” He chuckled. “It’s right next door to your place; you’ll be here in minutes. Oh, you haven’t tucked him into bed yet, have you? What, afraid he’ll hear us?” I froze. I suddenly remembered that I would often vaguely hear passionate sounds in the middle of the night. Each time, I thought it was some neighbor. It never once occurred to me that it was Amelia. Once, in the middle of the night, I needed to use the restroom. Getting no response from Amelia, I tried to climb onto my wheelchair myself. The wheel slipped, and I fell heavily, breaking my arm, unable to even lift it. I could only lie on the floor, enduring the agonizing pain until she returned. At the time, I thought she was working so hard. To earn money for my medical treatment, she even took a night job. She must have been exhausted. I kept comforting her, lying that I wasn’t in pain. I never expected she was indeed exhausted. But not because of me. All this time, they had been intimately involved in a room just a wall away from mine. While I struggled to even turn my head, they had already tried every position imaginable. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. The old me hated crying. Whenever Amelia saw my tears, her eyes would well up too, her heart aching for me. I didn’t want her to suffer with me, so I always swallowed my tears and smiled at her. But now, I wanted her to know that I could feel pain too. My tears hit the ground, but left no trace. She couldn’t see them anymore. Amelia, her thoughts clearly exposed, lowered her head and said nothing more. Kris, displeased, his smile abruptly vanished. “Amelia, don’t forget, his treatment money tomorrow is also coming from me!” He warned. “I’m giving you ten minutes. One second late, and you can forget about getting any money tomorrow!” The video call ended. Amelia stared at the screen, stunned for a few seconds. She sighed, grabbed her phone, and shut down the computer. Before leaving, she looked at the closed door of the master bedroom. “Leo, don’t worry. I will definitely cure you.” Her voice was firm. So much like the countless times over the years she had held my hand and told me, “Don’t worry about the money. You just focus on getting well, for my sake.” But only today did I realize that all the money she earned was by appeasing Kris Essen. If I had known, I would rather not have had the treatment than put her through such trouble. I was like a fixed puppet, following behind her as she left the apartment. To go to the supermarket downstairs, she would have to pass by the path next to the ground beneath the balcony. I saw Amelia glance in my direction. I tensed up immediately, my heart pounding. Luckily, the night was dark. Plus, with the cover of trees and bushes, my body wasn’t so glaringly obvious. Amelia didn’t discover me. I secretly sighed with relief. Good thing she didn’t see. My current appearance was truly gruesome. Covered in blood, my skull slightly deformed. My legs, now so thin they were almost just bones, bent at an incredible angle. They must have been broken. I felt a pang of regret. Those were once the legs of a dancer. They chronicled my past, carried my future. Now, they had met such an end. But if Kris Essen saw me, he would surely gloat. After all, his grudge against me wasn’t new. He had always wished for something bad to happen to me. Years ago, our two families were on the same tour bus. There was an accident on the road. My dad desperately pushed Kris and me out of the bus window. He said he could only rest easy if he saw Kris and me safe and sound. Those were his last words. He had wanted to save Kris’s parents too. But the next second, the vehicle exploded. No one who hadn’t escaped survived. Kris, however, believed my dad had caused his parents’ deaths. If my dad had let him stay on the bus, maybe he could have pulled his parents out. But my dad had insisted on pushing him out first. He said my dad was a busybody and deserved to die. I called him a venomous snake, ungrateful to a fault. Now, all of it was finally over. In the supermarket, the clerk noticed Amelia’s interest in purchasing something and proactively picked up a box to recommend. “Miss, this brand is on sale right now, would you like…” Amelia said calmly, “No need, he’s allergic.” Then she reached for another brand. She went to the checkout counter and paid, all in one smooth motion. Her actions were very practiced, as if she had bought them countless times. But ever since my condition had worsened, we hadn’t been intimate at all. It was obvious who these were for. In that instant, I suddenly regretted my decision to save her three years ago. That was my first time on the stage I had always dreamed of. And it became my last. After the awards ceremony, I bowed in thanks. As Amelia came onto the stage with flowers to celebrate me, a thick beam fell without warning. I pushed her away, but I was struck. She tried to lift the beam to rescue me, but that only caused me secondary injuries. The repeated impacts triggered my ALS. On the day I was diagnosed, she crouched beside me, tears streaming down her face, her features etched with regret and guilt. “Leo, I’ll always be by your side and take care of you.” “Thank you.” It turned out her promise of “always” only lasted a mere three years. Just like during the time she pursued me, when she kept all my preferences in mind. Was it experience? Habit? Or… did she truly fall in love? I shook my head, forcing myself not to dwell on it. Such needs were only natural. Moreover, I had been ill for so long; she was bound to have needs that had to be met. Amelia took care of me all day, practically on her feet constantly; she was already exhausted enough. If she couldn’t even get a moment of mental relaxation, then I would be too harsh on her. Despite trying to convince myself of this, when I thought that the man was Kris Essen, and the fact that Amelia might not love me as much anymore, I still couldn’t control my irritation. Unconsciously, Amelia had already returned to the building next door. She went upstairs and opened Kris Essen’s front door. She saw Kris lounging on the sofa, clad in a silk robe with an open collar. Amelia’s pupils widened slightly. Her gaze lingered on his toned abdomen. Her throat involuntarily bobbed up and down. I turned my head away, no longer watching. In the past, Amelia wouldn’t have even glanced at such a scene. But now, she was clearly captivated. Kris Essen seemed to have anticipated her reaction. He walked up to her, grabbed her collar, and pulled her into his embrace. Amelia stumbled, falling against Kris. After a brief, lingering hug, she pushed against the wall to straighten up. Kris leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Why the act of modesty? You weren’t like this in bed before.” He paused. “Or perhaps you don’t like this place today? True, we’ve tried every spot in this apartment; it’s getting a bit boring. How about this: it’s very close to Summer Bloom’s balcony. We could climb over there, right in front of him. Wouldn’t that be more exciting?” Amelia subtly recoiled, her brow furrowed, and said coldly, “Don’t be ridiculous.” She insisted, “Leo must not know about me and you.” I keenly picked up on her wording. I instantly understood her meaning. It was “cannot,” not “do not want to.” Perhaps she had considered giving up on me, considered confessing the truth to me. But she was coerced by the so-called life-saving grace. Bound by past vows of love. Repeatedly suppressing the restless thoughts in her heart. Duty and guilt had triumphed over retreat. She had to be the responsible, patient good girlfriend. My heart turned completely cold. The love I thought I had… had long since withered away with the worsening of my illness, gradually eroded by Amelia’s increasing care. Kris Essen, naturally, understood the underlying meaning that I could grasp. He flashed a satisfied smile. One hand wrapped around the back of Amelia’s neck, pulling her close. His other hand unbuttoned her shirt. Amelia’s collarbone was covered in a dense pattern of red marks, stinging my eyes. Kris lowered his head, burying his face in her neck. Amelia bit her lip, her brows furrowed, seemingly enduring pain. When Kris finally lifted his head again, a fresh bite mark appeared on her collarbone. Kris’s finger pressed on it, causing Amelia to flinch back with a slight gasp. “That’s your punishment for refusing me,” he said. “I’m in a good mood today, so I won’t make it hard on you, but don’t let there be a next time.” He dragged Amelia into the bedroom, pushed her onto the bed, and then leaned over her. Cupping Amelia’s face, he said, “The thought of you spending every day with Summer Bloom, it pains me a little.” He sneered, “With him looking like that, what’s the difference between living and being dead?” He continued, “Don’t you get disgusted watching his shriveled, deformed legs every day?” Kris made a face of disgust as he spoke, as if he completely forgot that during that stage accident, I saved more than just Amelia. I saved him too. Though I suspected he had intended to disrupt my focus and see me make a fool of myself that day, and though I hated him because of him, I lost my father, in that instant when the accident happened, I had only one thought. Kris was the person my father had risked his life to save. That was my dad’s dying wish; I didn’t want, and couldn’t allow, that hope to be dashed. So I pushed them both away with all my might. The result was an outcome more cruel than my father’s. Because I couldn’t bear to betray Amelia’s love and hope, for these past three years, I had barely been able to live, yet unable to die. And the person I had personally saved was now verbally humiliating my body and physically stealing my beloved. I gritted my teeth, clenched my fists, and raised my hand to slap him, but my hand passed right through his face, unable to even create a gust of wind. Amelia opened her mouth. Before she could speak, Kris Essen’s apartment door was suddenly knocked upon. “Open up! Police! We need to ask some questions.” The two exchanged a look, straightened their clothes, and after confirming the officers’ identities, opened the door. “Someone jumped from a building and committed suicide in your complex. Did you hear anything just now?” Upon hearing this, Amelia’s face immediately changed. Perhaps thinking of the sounds from earlier, she seemed lost in thought for a moment. I began to feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe she had thought of me, maybe she still cared. Seeing the police about to question her further, Kris immediately cut in, pointing to the paused movie on the TV. “My girlfriend and I were watching a movie! A horror film, with lots of background noise.” He continued, “We’re both easily scared, but we love watching them, so we covered our ears and closed our eyes in many parts.” He clutched his chest. “See, just now, your knocking startled me.” He faked a scared expression. The police nodded, then turned to knock on other doors. I floated in mid-air, a bitter smile playing on my lips. Amelia, if you knew it was me who died, would you still help Kris Essen lie? Or were you just afraid of a commotion, afraid of waking me, who was supposedly sleeping soundly? Between me and Kris Essen, she ultimately chose the latter. Seeing the police leave, Kris’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “How about we take advantage of this dark, stormy night and do something thrilling?!” “What?” Amelia hadn’t fully recovered her senses. Kris was quite displeased with her reaction and pushed her away. “Still thinking about Summer Bloom even when you’re with me?” “He’s sick. My concern is only natural.” Kris scoffed. “Stop acting! Do you dare say you haven’t thought of me when you’re with me?” He growled, “If you truly cared about him that much, you should hate me as much as he does, instead of moaning happily in my bed!” Amelia clenched her fists, wanting to retort. But she found that Kris was right. She had nothing to say. I looked at her, laughing with a few tears. See, everyone saw it clearly. Even Amelia knew her own heart. Only I, from beginning to end, was treated like a fool, kept in the dark. After a long silence, Amelia changed the subject. “What did you say you wanted to play just now?” Kris didn’t argue with her, simply going along. “How about we try at the crime scene? I bet you’ve never tried that!” Amelia resisted repeatedly, but eventually couldn’t withstand Kris Essen’s combination of hard and soft tactics. The two crept downstairs, immediately noticing the police tape surrounding the building. The on-site investigation was still underway. Police officers shone flashlights, searching for evidence in the vicinity. Kris Essen pulled Amelia, heading straight for the small path next to the building opposite. After confirming no police noticed them, Kris pushed Amelia into the grass. The complex’s landscaping was well done; every building, front and back, had waist-high bushes and dense trees. The dark shadows they cast became a natural curtain in the night. Kris Essen eagerly reached his hand into Amelia’s clothing. Not forgetting to whisper in her ear, “It’s so close to the crime scene here. You’ll have to keep it down later, okay?” He added, “Wouldn’t want the police to find out.” Amelia’s ear tips were bright red. Just as she was about to tilt her head up to meet Kris Essen’s kiss, her peripheral vision caught something sparkling on the ground across the way, illuminated by a flashlight. Curiosity compelled her to squint, carefully discerning what it was. Suddenly, her breathing hitched, and her mouth dropped open, but no scream escaped her lips. She had seen it clearly. It was a ring on the hand of the corpse. It was a matching set with the one on her left ring finger.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “435830”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Heart racing to share my pregnancy news, I stood outside the door—until David’s voice stopped me cold. To his squadmate, he mocked me as “used goods” and a burden. His entire pursuit had been a calculated strategy: his true love, Ivy, had her sights set on my ex-husband Silas, and since I refused to sign the divorce, David married me to keep me in check. All his “protection” was just surveillance to prevent me from disrupting Ivy’s plans. The final blow was his forged paternity test, ready to brand my unborn child illegitimate so he could discard me guilt-free. Memories flooded back to five years ago, when I’d slept with David out of spite after catching Silas with Ivy. Their resulting brawl ended their friendship and pushed me into marrying David. For five years, he played the doting husband, shielding me from other men and convincing me I’d found happiness. But now, hearing him laugh, I realized it was all a meticulously crafted lie. I wasn’t his wife; I was a pawn in his game to please Ivy. I couldn’t listen to another word. When my senses finally returned, I was standing in the biting wind outside the military base. The ultrasound printout that was supposed to hold so much joy was now just a pathetic joke. My hands would not stop shaking. My phone screen lit up suddenly. A new text popped up. [Sweetheart, training ended early today. What do you want for dinner? I am cooking.] A laugh ripped from my throat, but the tears fell fast and heavy. My chest felt like it had been impaled by a combat knife. I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again, the desperate hope in my eyes had died, leaving behind a cold, desolate wasteland. I opened my contacts and sent a message to Commander Brooks. [Commander, I heard the joint task force in Alaska needs a strategist. I am requesting a transfer.] Then I dialed the base medical center. “I need to schedule an abortion. As soon as possible.” I lowered my eyes, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corners of my lips. David would probably never know that the marriage certificate we framed was a complete fake. This time, I could walk away without a single trace. 2 I do not know how I made it back to our base housing. The moment I pushed the door open, David was sitting in the living room. Seeing me, he immediately stood up. His eyes carried that familiar, gentle warmth. “You are back? I made chicken soup. Have some while it is hot.” I did not refuse. I sat down and forced two spoonfuls down my throat. His phone suddenly lit up on the table. I glanced at it instinctively, and my entire body froze. [David, that soup was way too salty. I do not want it. Give it to your wife like a good boy.] The timestamp was twenty minutes ago. The rich broth in my bowl instantly turned to ash in my mouth. I dropped the spoon, bolted into the bathroom, and hovered over the sink, dry heaving violently. David followed me in, gently rubbing my back. “What is wrong? Are you getting sick?” I slapped his hand away. “Do not touch me. We are sleeping in separate rooms tonight.” By the time I woke up the next morning, David was already gone. I drove alone to the base medical center for the first surgery slot of the day. The doctor looked over my chart, her expression grave. “Nora, your uterine wall is incredibly thin. If we proceed with this termination, it is highly unlikely you will ever conceive again. You need to think this through.” I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. “I am sure. Do it.” The procedure was quick. I grabbed my prescription painkillers and headed for the exit. Right at the doors, someone crashed into me. The impact was not heavy. But my body was so weak from the surgery that my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the concrete. My forehead smashed against the edge of the steps. Black spots danced across my vision. I struggled to lift my head and finally saw the person standing over me. Ivy. She clutched her stomach and dropped to the ground, her face pale as a ghost. “Ivy!” Two figures sprinted over at the exact same time. Silas reached her first. He grabbed her shoulders, his voice frantic with worry. Right behind him was David. He was clutching a stack of medical charts in one hand and a bag of premium fruits in the other. All of Ivy’s favorites. “Silas… my stomach hurts so bad…” Ivy leaned into Silas’s chest, her eyes welling with tears. Without a second thought, Silas scooped her up in his arms and bolted toward the emergency room. David was half a step too slow. His extended hand hovered uselessly in the air. A sharp, pulling pain erupted in my lower abdomen. Cold sweat drenched my forehead. Just as I braced my hands against the ground to stand, a heavy canvas sack was thrown over my head from behind, trapping me in darkness. Before I could even scream, a heavy combat boot slammed into my stomach. The blinding agony choked the sound right out of my throat. I curled into a tight ball. Through the thick fabric, I could barely make out David’s voice. It was cold, ruthless, and entirely devoid of mercy. “Drag this blind bitch out to the back lot. Teach her some manners. Not just anyone gets to bump into her.” Several military police officers grabbed the sack and dragged me across the rough asphalt. I had just walked out of surgery. I was wearing a thick beanie and a surgical mask. He had no idea it was me. I thrashed and fought, but a heavy boot pinned me to the dirt. A tactical baton slammed mercilessly into my spine. The guards chatted casually as they rained blows down on me. “Commander David really goes all out for Ivy. Someone just bumps into her and he snaps. I bet his actual wife does not even get treated this well.” “Obviously. Did you know about that brutal disciplinary hearing years ago? The one where Nora caught those ninety nine strikes from the baton? David was the one who personally requested that punishment from the top brass.” “Yeah, he even ordered them to use the heavy steel batons. Said he wanted to punish her for dragging out the divorce and making Ivy unhappy.” A bomb went off in my skull. That brutal punishment, the one that nearly left me paralyzed five years ago… David was the one who asked for it? And I, like an absolute fool, had viewed him as my savior. The last faint flicker of light in my eyes finally went out. 3 When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in an infirmary bed. Through the glass window on the door, I could vaguely see a row of guards kneeling in the hallway. “You useless trash! You could not even recognize my wife?” The door was pushed open gently. David walked in, the violent rage still lingering around his eyes. Seeing me awake, he crossed the room in three long strides, his voice dropping into a soft, soothing hum. “Nora, you are awake? I already dealt with those blind idiots. Are you still hurting?” He reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, but I turned my face away. His fingers froze in the air. He let out a heavy sigh. “It is my fault. It was so chaotic out there, I did not recognize you with the mask on. I am so sorry you got hurt. Hey, didn’t you always want to go to that private retreat in Florida? I told the operations desk to clear my schedule for the next few weeks. I will go with you, okay?” I just stared at him, my throat dry. “There is no need.” “You care about Ivy so much, why don’t you go keep her company?” David’s expression stiffened. “I know you do not like her. But her father is the four star general at the Northern Command. Our joint military drills depend on this alliance. If something happens to her, the whole operation falls apart.” “Besides… she is pregnant now. Whatever bad blood we had in the past should be buried. You cannot possibly still be obsessing over her and Silas. Have some perspective.” A ball of pure fire twisted in my chest. Before I could speak, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was the logistics department. “Nora, your transfer request to the Alaskan border has been approved. You can report for duty early next month.” David had exceptional hearing. The moment the word request came through the speaker, his brows knitted together. “What request?” “Nothing.” I murmured a quick thank you into the receiver before looking back at him. “Just a colleague’s shift change.” A few days later, I was discharged. I had spent the entire night perfecting my speech for the Joint Forces Defense Tech Summit. The auditorium was packed with military contractors and brass. Cameras were set up in the front row. I took a deep breath and prepared to walk up to the podium. Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the back of the hall were kicked open. David marched down the aisle, his boots echoing loudly. He stepped onto the stage, grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip, and glared at me with a terrifying, icy fury I had never seen before. “Nora, did I not say the past was swept clean? You married me. Why the hell are you still begging Silas to take you back?” “Let go of me!” I winced at the pain. “Begging who? I have no idea what you are talking about.” Before I could finish, a sharp slap struck across my face. Ivy appeared on the stage out of nowhere. Her beautiful face was twisted with disgust and absolute triumph. “Still playing dumb? Fine! Someone put it on the screen so everyone can see what a desperate slut she really is behind closed doors!” A few guards stepped up to the control panel. With a few clicks, my presentation slides vanished, replaced by a series of text message screenshots. [Silas, I truly love you. I do not care about David at all. Please, let us get back together.] [What is so great about that bitch Ivy? She is just a homewrecker. When you get tired of her, you will realize I am the better choice!] The words were vulgar and sickening. Scattered between the texts were several provocative, half naked mirror selfies. The face was cropped out, but the body shape was almost identical to mine. A collective gasp echoed through the auditorium. I violently tore my wrist out of David’s grip. “I did not send those! I am calling military police right now!” I pulled out my phone to dial, but Ivy suddenly clutched her stomach. Her face drained of color, and she stumbled backward. David moved like lightning, catching her in his arms. Leaning against his chest, Ivy took a few weak breaths. Then she pointed a shaking finger at the massive screen. “Wait. The woman in these photos has a crescent moon scar right above her breast. Nora, you claim this is not you?” “Then take off your shirt and let us check.” Two heavy set guards stepped forward and forced me to my knees. I looked up, my eyes burning red as I stared right at David. “Do I have a scar there? You know my body. Tell them.” David frowned and shook his head. “Nora, Ivy is pregnant. Her blood pressure cannot take this stress. Just let her check, and it will be over. Besides, if rumors spread that you are harassing your ex husband, your career is over anyway. Clearing it up right here is the fairest thing for everyone.” He gave the guards a slight nod. They lunged forward and brutally ripped my uniform blouse open. I fought with everything I had, but my body, still recovering from the surgery, betrayed me. I was completely exposed from the waist up. The entire auditorium stared in dead silence. My chest was perfectly clear. There was no crescent moon scar. Camera shutters clicked frantically. The harsh flashes blinded me. Those stares cut into my bare skin like rusted blades. What was supposed to be the proudest presentation of my career had been twisted into a public execution. Ivy went entirely limp and fainted on the spot. David abandoned all logic. He scooped her into his arms, threw down a cold order to take his wife home, and sprinted out of the hall without looking back. 4 They escorted me back to the empty house. The disciplinary notice was already in my inbox. Suspended pending investigation. Overnight, my reputation was slaughtered. I had absolutely nothing left. I dragged myself up, opened the nightstand drawer, and found the sleeping pills the military doctor had prescribed. I poured a massive handful into my palm and raised my hand to my mouth. The bedroom door slammed open. David charged in and smacked the bottle out of my hand. “Are you insane? Do you want to die taking that many?” I let out a soft laugh, though tears were streaming down my face. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” During my darkest years with Silas, I suffered from severe insomnia. I survived purely on those pills. It was David who had slowly pulled me out of that swamp, staying up with me night after night until I was finally clean. Now, he was the one shoving me back into the abyss, and the fall was much farther this time. David locked his jaw. “Enough. The misunderstanding was cleared up, wasn’t it? You used to pull this pathetic sympathy act on Silas, but it will not work on me. Stop being dramatic.” I could not hold it back anymore. I swung my arm and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. The sharp crack echoed in the bedroom. He turned his head slowly. A bright red handprint blossomed on his cheek. A flash of pure rage ignited in his eyes, but when he saw my red, hollow eyes, he held his tongue. Right then, his phone rang. He answered it, listened for a few seconds, and all the color drained from his face. “Guards! Get in here and hold her down!” Two military police officers rushed into the room, grabbing my arms and pinning me forcefully onto the sofa. A freezing chill crawled up my spine. David’s face was grim. “Ivy passed out again. Her pulse is dropping, and she is hemorrhaging. Silas brought in that holistic guru his family trusts.” “The guru said your dark energy is too heavy. It is poisoning the baby. We need to bleed the bad energy out of you to break the curse.” “No!” I thrashed violently against the cushions, but the men pressing me down were built like tanks. I could not move an inch. A combat medic stepped forward, holding a sterile tactical blade. The first slice cut deep into my forearm. Dark red blood welled up immediately. The sharp, searing pain made the room spin. The second cut went into my right hand. The third on my calf. The fourth. My struggling grew weaker and weaker. My face turned the color of ash. Blood dripped steadily from my limbs, turning the olive green sofa a sickening shade of black. Nineteen cuts. They finally let me go. I slumped against the cushions, drenched in my own blood, my breathing so shallow it was almost entirely gone. David looked down at my ruined, pathetic state from his high ground. After a long moment, he let out a soft sigh. “Nora, Ivy is carrying a child. You need to be more forgiving. I arranged a spot at the Florida retreat for you. You can stay there until she gives birth, then I will bring you back. You always wanted a kid, right? When this is over, we can have one of our own.” “Rest up. I need to get back to the hospital.” He did not look at me again. He ordered the medic to bandage me up and hurried out the door. The moment the heavy front door clicked shut, the very last spark of life inside me vanished forever. I sat there like a broken marionette, letting the medic wipe the blood and wrap the gauze tightly around my fresh wounds. Suddenly, my phone screen lit up. A text from Commander Brooks. [Nora, I heard what happened today. Do not worry. I have your back.] [Now, come with me.] A tear dropped onto the glass screen, blurring the words. With trembling, bloodstained fingers, I typed a single word. [Okay.] An hour later, covered in bandages and smelling of iodine, I stood in the terminal of the international airport. David’s assistant called. “Ma’am, your flight to Florida is booked. Do you need a driver to pick you up?” “No need.” I stared out the massive windows at the grey, weeping sky. My voice was eerily calm. “Do me a favor. Take that metal box I left on the kitchen counter and give it to David. And… do not call me Ma’am anymore.” I hung up and walked through the security gates. It was over. David, your lies end here. And I am walking into my new life.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “435829”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day Phill and I signed our marriage papers, his boys suggested we go live on stream to share the moment with our followers. I smiled and agreed. I held up the freshly signed documents, showing off our happily ever after to the camera. Right then, Phill’s childhood bestie, Beth, rolled out a massive tiered cake. The two of them exchanged a secret, knowing look. Just as Beth opened her mouth, supposedly to wish us well, a vicious force slammed into the back of my head, shoving my face buried deep into the cake. A blinding pain ripped across my forehead. The hidden plastic dowels supporting the cake tiers had sliced my skin open. Sweet vanilla frosting mixed with warm, metallic blood, sliding down my face. “Surprise!” The whole room erupted into roaring laughter. The camera stayed dead focused on my humiliating, messy state. The live chat exploded, scrolling faster than I could read. Phill affectionately pinched Beth’s cheek. “Happy now? The boys really pulled through for your little dare.” He chuckled. “Even hijacked my own wedding for it. See, Beth? Now you know who spoils you the most.” Only then did he casually turn his gaze to me, using that condescending tone reserved for a toddler. “Oh, come on. We are just messing around.” I stared at the ruined cake splattered across the floor. Without saying a single word, I ripped our freshly signed marriage certificates into tiny, useless shreds. Frosting choked my throat. I could barely breathe. Laughter, jeers, camera shutters clicking. It was pure chaos. The stream was going viral. Within minutes, my humiliating photos and the hashtag about my ruined wedding were trending number one. My phone blew up with calls from my agency. And the mastermind behind it all was hiding behind Phill, her voice trembling, her face completely devoid of any real guilt. “I think Malika is mad at me…” “It is all my fault for losing that dare. The guys just felt bad for me and wanted to help…” My custom gown, the one I waited six months for, was ruined. My hair and makeup, which took three hours starting at dawn, were destroyed. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. My overflowing joy turned into nothing but pathetic, hollow sorrow. Phill draped his suit jacket over my shoulders to cover the mess, but then he saw my red, swollen eyes. He froze. “Are you actually crying?” “If it bothers you that much, we can just throw another wedding. Okay?” “I promise the next one will be even bigger.” The Phill from the past was never like this. At eighteen, he was a broke kid who emptied his pockets just to take me to a bridal boutique. He carefully smoothed out the train of a dress I tried on, promising to give me a beautiful, proper wedding one day. At twenty eight, as a successful entrepreneur, he bought me a designer gown, holding me like I was his entire world, promising a lavish ceremony as soon as his company stabilized. Now, at thirty three, Phill shattered our promises and spat on his vows. He gave me the most humiliating wedding imaginable. Smack. I slapped him across the face with everything I had. The room went dead silent. His friends scrambled to cut the live feed, tripping over their words to apologize. “Sorry, Malika.” “We just wanted to cheer Beth up…” Phill wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Why are you taking this so seriously?” “Wedding ceremonies are boring anyway. I let Beth have a little fun to lighten the mood. Why are you picking a fight with a kid?” “You were never like this…” I whispered. Beth always loved playing cruel pranks on me. She stomped on the flowers Phill bought me, ruined our anniversaries. She orchestrated hate campaigns in my comment sections, causing me to lose hundreds of thousands of followers. She even mixed poison ivy extract into my perfume, giving me a full body rash so I would miss a massive brand deal. Every time, Phill would stroke my hair and say he would teach her a lesson and that she was just being immature. But his punishments were always empty threats. A loud bark with absolutely no bite. “Phill! Beth’s dad saved your life, but that does not mean you get to enable her like this!” I screamed. “She has no basic decency! She is a brat!” Beth buried her face in his chest and wailed. “I miss my daddy…” “Malika!” Phill snapped at me. “Do not cross the line!” “Do you think poking at her trauma makes you a better person?” I choked back my tears. I never imagined he would protect her with absolutely zero boundaries. “You really think she did nothing wrong?” Phill instinctively opened his mouth to defend her. “Fine,” I cut him off. “Since you cannot see how messed up this is.” “Then we are done.” “We are over.” I went home, hid in the bathroom, and cried until I was numb. Then I scrubbed my face, packed away my emotions, and started dealing with the catastrophic mess. My boss, Marcus, screamed at me over the phone. “You turned your own wedding into a circus!” “Meme photos everywhere! You have been trending for three hours. The brand sponsors are blowing up my line. Terminated contracts, penalty fees, it is a disaster!” “Do you have any idea how much money we are losing?” The crisis meeting lasted until four in the morning. The living room was pitch black, lit only by the cherry of a cigarette burning down to my fingertips. Nicotine numbed my frayed nerves. I watched the wedding video over and over, trying to figure out what to say to the public. How to spin my absolute humiliation into a funny joke. How to pretend my tears meant nothing. “Heh…” I let out a self deprecating laugh and collapsed against the sofa. The last time I was this exhausted was when I was paying off Phill’s bankruptcy debts. I livestreamed day and night, testing toxic skincare products until my face broke out in chemical burns, doing eating broadcasts until I got a stomach ulcer. All just to earn those daily payouts to ease his stress. Eventually, my account blew up. Phill bounced back, too. But the very first thing he did when he got rich again was bring Beth right back to his side to live the high life. Meanwhile, I was still stuck under a predatory contract with my agency. Swallowing Marcus’s empty promises at work, and Phill’s empty promises at home. I was so incredibly stupid. Fifteen years. Gone in a flash. By my thirtieth birthday, Phill had consumed half my life, my youth, and my brightest years. I grabbed my phone and opened Beth’s socials. She had recently posted a celebration for her two thousand day snap streak with Phill. They ate a seven tier cake, set off fireworks, and rented out an entire theater for a midnight fairy tale play. Phill only ever showed his playful, childish side to Beth. With me, he complained that those things were too immature. [Could not sleep, so my Phill took me stargazing.] That was her latest update. The photo showed them on a mountain peak, the city lights glittering below. She was sitting on his shoulders. I blinked, not even realizing my tears were sliding down my temples into my ears. The updates kept rolling in. [Late night hot springs.] A picture of their heads leaning close together in a private pool. [Breakfast made with love by Phill.] Eggs fried in the shape of a little cat. Dawn broke. My mom’s name popped up on the screen. “Malika, sweetie, did you sleep okay?” “I am fine, Mom.” She hesitated for a few seconds. “Malika, about your wedding yesterday…” “Mom, it was all scripted!” I forced a bright laugh. But the damn tears poured out uncontrollably. “It was a marketing stunt by the agency. I am totally fine.” My mom let out a heavy sigh of relief. “I knew it. I kept saying there was no way Phill would ever treat you like that.” I bit my lip to muffle a sob. “Yeah.” “Phill loves you the most. You have to cherish him.” “Yeah.” The words felt like broken glass in my throat. The screen went black, reflecting my tear soaked face. Mom, the Phill who loved me the most is gone. He disappeared a long time ago. I changed my clothes and headed straight to the agency. I took several deep breaths before pushing open Marcus’s office door. “I am sorry…” “It is handled,” Marcus said, crossing his legs. “Phill paid off every single one of your breach of contract fees.” “Do not let this happen again.” “Go prep for tonight’s stream. You need to salvage your image. If you do not hit your sales quota, I really will ship you off to the European branch.” I pressed my lips together. After a long pause, I spoke. “Send me to Europe.” Marcus sat up straight. “Are you serious?” The company had expanded overseas a few years ago. Signing that transfer meant a twenty year commitment. Most top streamers avoided it like the plague. I had wanted to go back then. But Phill refused to do long distance. I had been so naive, telling him he could just expand his own company and come with me. Phill stammered for a long time before finally saying Beth was staying in the city and she could not survive without him. Then he held me and begged me not to leave, saying he could not survive without me either. So, I gave up the opportunity. Thinking about it now made me sick. He used his tears to trap me. And years later, at our wedding, he let my tears shatter against the floor without a second thought. “If you go, you are the Vice President of the London branch.” Marcus pulled out the contract. “Sign it if you are sure.” I signed my name without a hint of hesitation. “Good,” he smiled. “You fly out next week. Go wrap up your loose ends.” I went back to my studio. While prepping the products for tonight, I scrolled through the online drama. The narrative had flipped. Someone had dug up Beth’s secret accounts. All her targeted bullying, her attempts to seduce Phill, and her passive aggressive posts flaunting their weird relationship were dragged into the light. [She is so shameless! He has been with his girlfriend for fifteen years, why is she playing the third wheel?] [She is a pick me girl! She loves being surrounded by guys and destroying relationships. It is disgusting!] [Poor Malika.] My fans flooded Beth’s comments, demanding an apology. Before I could even scroll to the bottom, Phill’s name flashed on my screen. The second I answered, he exploded. “Did you orchestrate this?!” “Malika! How could you weaponize your fans to cyberbully Beth!” I could hear a girl sobbing violently in the background. “Yes, she went too far yesterday. She messed up your work. But I already paid your penalty fees! Why will you not just let her go!” I let him scream. I listened as he made endless excuses for Beth, minimizing the devastating damage she caused me into a simple, harmless mistake of a naive child. “What about when Beth started rumors about me, intentionally sending her trolls to attack me?” I asked him quietly. “She incited a mob. They cornered me offline. In the chaos, someone slapped me so hard it ruptured my eardrum.” “I was so afraid you would worry, I never told you.” “Phill, to this day, I am completely deaf in my right ear.” “Does my pain mean anything to you at all?” Dead silence on the other end. “That cannot be true…” “Beth!” Phill barked at her. “Did you not say it was just a harmless prank?” The girl burst into hysterical wailing. “I… I just made a joke in the comments… I did not know people would actually go after her…” My head was pounding. I hung up, put my phone on silent, and tossed it into my drawer. I felt a suffocating, heavy exhaustion and a faint, dull ache. It was not until early evening, right before I went live, that I checked my phone again. Phill had texted me. [Malika, just quit streaming.] [I will take care of you. Let us get married. I will give you all my credit cards, okay? I will hire the best specialists in the world to fix your ear.] Then came the real motive. [Beth accidentally hurt you, and I will make sure she gives you a proper apology.] [But please, just issue a public statement clearing her name first. Apologize to the fans to calm them down.] [We need to stop the cyberbullying immediately.] I only replied with two words. [Keep dreaming.] The scandal was boiling over. When I went live, the chat was a warzone. Phill logged into the stream, desperately trying to defend Beth amidst the relentless wave of insults. Marcus’s voice crackled through my earpiece. “You need to address this right now, or no one is going to buy a single thing.” I stared directly into the camera lens. I plastered on my brightest, most professional smile. “My boyfriend and I have officially broken up. Please do not worry about my personal life anymore.” The chat went nuclear. [Oh my god! So Beth really is the homewrecker!] [Trash man! Trash girl! Malika deserves better!] My phone lit up with rapid fire texts from Phill. “When did I agree to a breakup?” “Are you insane?” “Are you trying to completely destroy Beth’s life?” “I promise I will keep my distance from her from now on. Just clear her name, please!” I ignored him and continued showcasing the lipstick. “Forgive me, Malika. I have no other choice.” Phill started dropping massive donations in the stream. Within seconds, he shot to the number one viewer spot. Using the premium VIP chat effects, he broadcasted his message to millions of viewers. [Beth is my girlfriend.] The message faded. He dropped another massive donation. And another. I stared blankly at the glowing gold text taking over the screen. My fingers went slack. The expensive glass perfume bottle hit the floor and shattered into pieces. [Beth and I have been together for years. We are very happy. Please leave us alone.] [And I would appreciate it if the streamer stopped using our relationship for clout.] [Anyone who continues to slander Beth will be hearing from my lawyers.] Phill dropped tens of thousands of dollars to fabricate a fake innocence for Beth. He did not hesitate to erase our entire past. He completely denied our years of survival, our struggles, and the purest, most passionate love we ever shared. Fifteen years meant absolutely nothing to him. My world went completely silent. I opened my mouth, but all I could taste was copper. It felt like a giant, invisible hand had reached into my chest, violently crushing my heart and tearing my sanity to shreds. It ripped the boy I loved most right out of my universe, leaving behind a barren, scorched wasteland. The harsh studio lighting offered no place to hide my breakdown. I covered my face and broke down sobbing in front of millions of people. It was an unbearable, suffocating agony. The kind that destroys all logic and rips you apart from the inside out. The studio plunged into chaos. “Block the camera!” “Cut the feed! Cut everything!” “She passed out! Someone catch her!” The stream died. I was rushed to the hospital. When I finally opened my eyes, Phill was standing by the window, talking on his phone. “Is Beth okay?” “She is not threatening to jump off the balcony again, is she?” “Malika collapsed. I am stuck at the hospital. Go handle the PR. Make sure you suppress everything on the internet.” “I do not care what it costs. Do not let a single negative word reach Malika’s ears.” I buried my face in the stark white blanket, desperate for even a fraction of safety. My mind was flooded with the final comments from the stream. People calling me delusional. Saying I made up a fake relationship for clout. Saying I was the homewrecker trying to steal Beth’s man. Netizens had scoured Phill’s social media. All they found were pictures of Beth. I did not exist in his digital world. I knew it all. “Phill,” I croaked softly. My vision blurred as I stared at his back. “Does your conscience hurt at all?” He whipped around. He hung up the phone, rushed to my bedside, and crouched down to my eye level. “Malika, I had no choice.” “Beth was getting death threats. She was about to jump off a building. I owe her my life, I could not just watch her die…” I raised my arm. Smack. The IV needle tore out of the back of my hand. Drops of blood splattered against Phill’s cheek as his head snapped to the side. “So I am the one who has to be sacrificed?” I was so tired. Tired of enduring. Tired of turning a blind eye. Tired of holding onto fifteen years of memories while letting him cross the line over and over again. I had spent my whole life begging Phill for an answer he was never going to give. So, I swallowed the thousands of words screaming in my throat. There was no point in speaking anymore. No more torture. “…Just go.” “Let us pretend we never met.” Phill’s pupils shrank. He frantically reached for my hand, but I pulled away. “Malika, please, just give me a little more time.” “When this blows over, I will release a statement! I will give you the most beautiful wedding in the world! We will be happy again!” I had heard these lies far too many times. And I had believed them far too many times. “I swear! I will put you first from now on! I will do whatever you want! I owe you too much, I will never…” His phone rang, slicing through his desperate vows. A frantic voice screamed through the speaker. “Phill! Beth is crying hysterically! She wants to see you!” “She is super unstable, you need to get here right now…” A bitter smile touched my lips. I reached out and gripped Phill’s forearm. “Did you not just say you would do whatever I want?” “Then I want you to stay.” Crashing sounds erupted from the phone. “Phill! She is climbing onto the window ledge!” Phill panicked. He violently yanked his arm out of my grip, jumped to his feet, and sprinted out the door without looking back. It was exactly what I expected. I did not try to stop him again. I grabbed my phone and dialed Marcus. “Move up the transfer.” “I am booking my own flight. I am leaving tonight.” Phill threw money at the platforms to erase the trending hashtags and censor the keywords. But he could not stop people from talking. Wearing a mask, I stood at the boarding gate. As I walked through the terminal, I heard the whispers. “I bet there is a plot twist to this drama.” “It is so messy. Apparently, this is not the first time Beth has pulled this. She is a total mean girl. She bullied several of the guys’ girlfriends out of the group. The victims are speaking out.” “They dated for fifteen years, and Beth ripped them apart.” “That guy is trash anyway. Keeping his options open like a coward.” I lowered my eyes and pulled my mask up higher. Hearing those words did not even cause a ripple in my chest anymore. My phone buzzed repeatedly. Texts from Phill. [Malika, you are not at the hospital? The nurse said you left.] [Where are you? Did you go home? I bought your favorite soup.] [Just answer the phone, please. We need to talk.] I did not reply. I powered off my phone. The plane accelerated down the runway. The glittering city lights shrank into tiny sparks before being swallowed entirely by the dense clouds. I reclined my seat and buried my exhausted body under the thin fleece blanket. Fifteen years felt like a long, agonizing fever dream. It was time to wake up. I was ready for my new life.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “435828”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The rivalry between Smith and me started back in high school. His father was the man who wrecked my mother’s marriage, leaving a permanent, unbridgeable chasm between us. So, when I found out the lead investor for our new project pitch was Stella Lancaster, I already knew the outcome. She is my wife, but Smith is the ghost of her past. He is the one who got away, and I knew that better than anyone. When the pitch results were announced, Stella handed the golden branch straight to Smith, exactly as I expected. He walked up to me, his tone dripping with unconcealed smugness. “Even if you married her, so what? In her heart, I will always be number one.” “Everything you bleed to achieve is handed to me on a silver platter.” I followed his gaze to where Stella stood a few yards away. Suddenly, a wave of sheer, bone deep exhaustion washed over me. I was done. I did not want to play this endless game of tug of war anymore. This time, I choose to let go. Rather than letting a hopeless marriage drain the life out of me, I was going to focus on my own empire. 1 The new investor was stunning. Her looks, her ruthless competence, and her elite family background had already sparked a wildfire of gossip across our floor. The investor was Stella Lancaster. My wife. The moment I saw her name on the executive brief, I knew my silent war with Smith was already lost. In the breakroom, my coworkers were whispering furiously over their coffees. “Did you hear? The CEO of Summit Peak is heading the investment this time. Stella Lancaster herself.” “She is a literal goldmine. If she picks our team’s design, we will not have to worry about our quotas for the next five years.” “Honestly, Smith’s team is probably going to bag it. Word on the street is that Smith is her college sweetheart. Her first love. She is only investing in Nova Design because he works here.” Hearing those words made my chest tighten. I walked back to my desk like a hollow shell. The news of Stella’s arrival had taken over the office. Our department director, Harrison, called Smith and me into his office. “Rob. Smith.” “Stella Lancaster from Summit Peak is funding this cycle. I want both of you to lead your teams and draft a concept. You have one month to submit your final pitches.” Harrison gave Smith a long, meaningful look, his eyes practically shining with approval. It was obvious Harrison had heard the rumors too. He knew exactly why Stella had chosen our firm. Before I even stepped out of the office, I knew my team’s grueling work would be for nothing. Competing against Smith meant I was just there to be the sacrificial lamb. Out in the hallway, Smith stopped in his tracks. We stood face to face. I met his gaze, and he offered a slight smile. It was arrogant, bright, and completely infuriating. “May the best man win, Rob.” But his eyes said he had already won. He knew exactly who Stella would choose. I watched him walk away with that confident stride before turning on my heel. The design department was basically throwing a parade for him. If my team’s proposal got rejected, I would be demoted to working under Smith. I would have to swallow my pride and take his orders. I refused to bow down to him. Right before clocking out, a crowd formed around Smith’s desk, showering him with praise. “You are incredible, Smith.” I looked at him through the sea of people. He was the center of attention, surrounded by warmth and laughter. In contrast, my corner of the office felt bitterly cold. I stood alone. He caught my eye and smirked. I looked away, grabbed my trench coat, and walked out into the chilly evening air. 2 Stella got home late. Her expression carried its usual detached, untouchable grace. Despite everything, I could not stop myself from asking. “Stella, did you invest in my company?” She looked up at the sound of my voice. Her eyes met mine, calm and unreadable. She gave a soft hum of confirmation. “Why Nova?” I pushed. I forced a casual, joking tone. “Are you going to give your husband a backstage pass?” Stella’s brow furrowed slightly. She looked entirely serious. There was not a trace of humor in her striking eyes. She paused for a moment. “It was a board decision. I do not make the final call on the proposals alone.” Her underlying message was crystal clear. Being her husband gave me absolutely zero privileges. I did not press any further. She was always like this. Cold, pragmatic, operating entirely on her own strict logic. She never bent the rules for me. And like a fool, I constantly humiliated myself by hoping I could be her one exception. Stella turned away and walked into her home office. The heavy mahogany door did not click shut all the way. I could hear the low murmur of her voice on a phone call. The voice echoing faintly from the speaker was Smith’s. Stella would occasionally let out a soft, low laugh in response to whatever he was saying. When the call ended, she pushed the door open. She walked to the entryway and pulled her coat off the rack. Slipping into her camel trench and sliding on her leather heels, she stood tall and looked back at me. “I have a business dinner. I need to head out.” I just nodded. Stella was breathtaking. She had sharp, aristocratic features, a high nose bridge, and perfectly sculpted lips. Her tailored suit underneath the trench coat made her look powerful and commanding. The heavy front door clicked shut behind her. She came home very late that night. Any questions I wanted to ask died in my throat the moment I saw Smith’s newest post on Instagram. It was a group photo. Four people. Smith, Stella, and two of their old college friends. Staring at that picture, I realized my question was pointless. I wanted to ask Stella if she would favor Smith. The answer was already staring me in the face. I used to leave a warm lamp on in the living room whenever she had late dinners. Tonight, I turned off every light in the house and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I woke up, Stella and I barely crossed paths. We left for work separately. At the office, the entire department treated Smith like royalty. Everyone knew the truth. If it were not for Smith, Stella would never have looked twice at our firm. My bad blood with him was my own problem. My coworkers only cared about their annual bonuses and hitting their quotas. Today, Stella arrived at the office for an investor walkthrough. Director Harrison immediately summoned Smith to escort her. When Smith finally returned to the floor, all eyes locked onto him. “Smith, is CEO Lancaster super intimidating in person?” Smith’s lips curved upward. His answer was deliberately vague and intimate. “I have known Stella for a long time. She is not intimidating at all. You guys can relax.” The junior designers exchanged knowing, excited smiles. I had already read every single detail of Smith and Stella’s college romance online. If I were not Stella’s husband, I probably would have thought their youthful love story was beautiful too. But reading the compilation of their history, painstakingly put together by their old classmates, only left me with a mouth full of ash. Smith still had an old, active Twitter account from college. It was a digital diary of their romance. I used to torture myself by scrolling through it late at night. The more I read, the more I realized how fiercely Stella had loved him. She would read every single one of his mundane tweets, liking and replying to them. She was the one who chased him first. It took me a full year of relentless pursuing just to get Stella to look my way. When I first found out Stella’s ex was Smith, a sick thrill had run through me. I thought I had won. I thought it was the ultimate revenge against him. But I quickly realized I had lost, brutally and completely. The fact that my wife still harbored feelings for her ex was not a victory. It was the ultimate humiliation. It just gave Smith another way to crush me under his heel. 3 Smith and I had been sworn enemies since middle school. We were like fire and ice, completely incompatible. His father manipulated his way into our home. The stress and betrayal broke my father’s health, sinking him into severe depression. I almost lost my dad entirely. In high school, Smith followed me again. He was one point short of getting into the elite prep academy, so my mother, Victoria, pulled strings and paid off the board to get him in. That same year, my father left the country to recover in a private sanatorium. I was left behind in the Kensington estate. I thought if I acted out, if I was cruel enough, Smith and his father would take the hint and leave. My tactics were not clever. Honestly, they were stupid. I tried to poison their tea with black ink. I wanted to terrify them, to mark my territory. Instead, Smith went straight to my mother playing the victim. Victoria’s face turned dark with fury. She cornered me and berated me for being a monster. I hated them, but I never had it in me to do real, permanent damage. Everything I did only made my mother feel worse for Smith and his father. By college, I was finally at a different university. The final nail in the coffin of my relationship with Victoria came during my freshman winter break. She took Smith to a high society gala instead of me. When people asked, she did not even deny it when they assumed Smith was her biological son. She even mentioned changing his last name to Kensington. I told her if she let him take our family name, I would drop it entirely and take my father’s name, Reed. Her eyes burned with rage. She raised her hand, ready to strike me across the face. But a tall, imposing figure stepped in and caught her wrist. That person was Stella. After graduation, our paths crossed again. I spent an entire year chasing her. Just when I was on the verge of giving up, she finally said yes. It was only after we signed the marriage papers that I found out Smith was her ex boyfriend. She had even visited the Kensington estate before, formally introduced as Smith’s girlfriend. When my mother found out Stella and I were married, her face drained of color. She clutched her chest, struggling to breathe. “Did you do this on purpose?” she gasped. “You knew she was his ex. Did you marry her just to spite him?” I was paralyzed. During the holidays, I refused to go back to the estate. But Stella insisted. She dragged me back. The moment we walked through the doors, Smith and I got into a physical altercation in the courtyard. We both lost our footing and fell hard. Stella reacted purely on instinct. She lunged forward and caught Smith, holding him up. I hit the concrete. Later at the hospital, with red, stubborn eyes, I asked Stella why she did not catch me. She calmly peeled an apple, not even looking at me. “I did not see you.” When Stella stepped out of the hospital room, Smith walked in. He looked down at me in the hospital bed, a victor’s smile on his lips. He spent the next ten minutes recounting every beautiful detail of his college life with Stella. He painted a picture of a warm, passionate Stella that I had never met. My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice. After I recovered, I found myself trapped in the same orbit as him again. We ended up at the same design firm. We were constantly at each other’s throats. He weaponized his status as the heir to the Kensington Conglomerate to make management bow to him. And now, he had the added armor of being the lead investor’s unforgettable first love. Everyone worshipped the ground he walked on. I knew my pitch was doomed. But I still pushed my team to work overtime, perfecting every single detail of our proposal. A month later, I walked into the executive boardroom holding my portfolio. Everyone was seated. Except Smith. He walked in a moment later, side by side with Stella. The morning light from the floor to ceiling windows hit them perfectly. Stella occasionally tilted her head up, matching Smith’s height, listening intently to whatever he was whispering. 4 Her profile was sharp against the projector’s light. Her dark eyes held a faint, rare smile. When her gaze accidentally flicked to mine, I searched her eyes, desperate to find some hidden emotion. But there was nothing. Just that same chilling, detached indifference. We drew lots for the presentation order. I was up first. I walked to the podium, perfectly composed, and pulled up my slides. I poured my heart into the presentation, breaking down every inspiration and structural concept. I was completely immersed in the work. When I stepped down, the applause was painfully sparse. The only person clapping with any real enthusiasm was Noah, a bright eyed kid who had been my intern since he graduated. Stella’s face was completely blank. No one could read her. Director Harrison kept stealing glances at her, trying to decipher her mood. Then it was Smith’s turn. He walked to the front and naturally locked eyes with Stella. They shared a private, knowing smile. The other executives exchanged glances, barely hiding their gossip fueled grins. Noah leaned over to me and whispered anxiously, “Rob, are we going to lose this?” I forced the corners of my mouth up into a rigid smile. When Smith finished, the room erupted. The applause was deafening compared to mine. Harrison clapped so hard his face turned red. A faint, unmistakable smirk touched Stella’s lips. We took a thirty minute recess. Lately, the suffocating rumors about Stella and Smith were draining the air out of my lungs. The way she looked at me was so cold it made my chest physically ache. Listening to the office chatter, I learned even more about their past. Stella had pursued him relentlessly. She waited outside his dorm every morning to bring him coffee. Everyone at their elite university knew how deeply Stella worshipped Smith. I sat frozen in my chair. Watching the backs of Stella and Smith as they walked out of the boardroom together, my nose stung. The woman I had bled to win over was harboring the soul of the man I hated most in the world. The boardroom emptied out until only Noah and I were left. Noah gave my arm a comforting squeeze. The thirty minutes were up. The results were in. Stella and the executives from Summit Peak had already left the building. Harrison stood at the head of the table to announce the verdict. There were three deciding votes. All three went to Smith. When the words left Harrison’s mouth, my eyes burned. A hot, pathetic dampness threatened to spill over. I bit the inside of my cheek and forced the tears back down. Harrison shot Smith a look of pure, validating triumph. A crowd immediately formed around him. “Smith, you are an absolute god!” I packed up my laptop and walked toward the exit, a solitary shadow in a room full of celebration. Smith caught up to me in the hall. “Rob.” I stopped. His eyes were bright with mockery. “Even if you are the one married to her, I will always be her priority.” “Everything you break your back to get, I can have just by reaching out my hand.” He was right. When we were fourteen, he effortlessly stole my mother’s love. Now, he effortlessly occupied my wife’s heart. Down the hall, Harrison was kissing up to Stella by the elevators, treating her like royalty. Suddenly, the fight drained out of me. I did not want to compete with Smith anymore. And I did not want Stella anymore, either. The elevator doors remained open. Harrison spotted us and practically begged Smith to join them in the elevator. I had no choice but to step in too. The heavy metal doors closed. The car descended. Harrison immediately started his usual brown nosing. “CEO Lancaster, you and Smith are such a powerful match. Truly a match made in heaven.” A few other managers chimed in eagerly. “Exactly! We heard rumors that you two were already married. You are so supportive, coming all the way to our firm just to back your husband’s project.” I listened to their sickening flattery in dead silence. My heart did not even skip a beat. It was just numb. I felt a heavy, burning gaze lock onto the side of my face. I turned my head. Stella’s face had gone completely rigid. Harrison nudged my arm, silently ordering me to play along. “Right, Rob? Do not they look perfect together?” The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. I looked calmly into Stella’s eyes. “Yes. A perfect match.” Panic flashed through her usually icy eyes. Her lips parted slightly, as if she was desperate to say something. 5 I stepped out of the elevator and walked away fast. Behind me, a low, urgent voice rang out. “Rob.” I did not hesitate. I did not stop. I pushed through the lobby doors and escaped the crowd. The tears I had been swallowing down finally clawed their way up my throat. The suffocating weight of my grievances broke me. When I was fourteen, my father had a mental breakdown and was committed to a facility because my mother was sleeping with another man. I was terrified and lost. When Stella blocked my mother’s hand from striking my face, I thought she was my savior. But everything I fought desperately to hold onto slipped through my fingers and flowed straight to Smith. My luck was always just one step short. I hid in my car in the underground garage and broke down completely. Once the tears finally stopped, my vision cleared. Stella’s tall figure appeared in the dim light of the parking garage. She was walking fast, her heels clicking aggressively against the concrete. Just as she reached out for my door handle, I slammed my foot on the gas and tore out of the garage. I drove straight to the Kensington estate. Neither Victoria nor Smith’s father was home. The sprawling mansion was dead quiet, save for a few maids. The bedroom I had grown up in had long been seized, completely remodeled into Smith’s personal sanctuary. I grabbed my passports, my financial documents, and a few valuable heirlooms. The entire house was infested with traces of Smith and his father. On the desk in the study sat a framed photo of Smith’s college graduation. I looked away. When Victoria first found out I married Stella, she exploded. She accused me of sacrificing my own marriage just to get back at Smith. If I had known Stella was his ex, I would have just assumed she had terrible taste in men. I would have tossed her into the same garbage bin as him. As I walked out of the grand double doors, I ran straight into Smith. He leaned against a marble pillar, looking at me with pure amusement. “Rob.” “It is boring fighting you. You know why? Because I can take whatever you want without lifting a finger.” “Your dad lost to my dad. You lose to me. It runs in your blood.” “I heard you chased Stella for a year? Half the guys on campus were obsessed with her back then.” “But she was known as the Ice Queen. Completely untouchable.” “Yet with me? I do not have to do a single thing, and she will always take my side.” “It was true four years ago, and it is true today.” In Smith’s eyes, Stella was gentle, fiercely loyal, and devoted. In my eyes, she was cold, ruthless, and entirely indifferent. Smith’s old tweets were a brutal reality check. Only after seeing how Stella loved someone else did I realize she never loved me at all. Smith loved playing the social media game. We only added each other on messaging apps after we started working at the same firm. Stella would occasionally like his random, mundane status updates. Sometimes she would even leave a comment. I had started a massive fight with her over it once. She just frowned, looking at me with total disdain. “Rob, why are you always targeting him?” I was so furiously heartbroken I could barely string a sentence together. Did she not know what boundaries were? All I wanted was for her to choose me. Just once. Smith’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Rob, you can never beat me.” “The woman you love? I was the one who taught her how to love.” “I even took her first kiss.” I just smiled faintly and walked past him without a word.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “435827”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My life took a devastating turn when I was eighteen. I fell madly in love with Mike Maxwell, a thirty-five-year-old widower. To be with him, I abandoned the ballet career I valued more than my own life and turned down a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study in Paris. I even ignored my parents’ furious warnings and tearful pleas, ruthlessly cutting all ties with them. But then, the fantasy shattered. I caught Mike red-handed, holding another woman in his arms. They were laughing without a care in the world. I heard him whisper in her ear that girls who danced ballet were just a bit more flexible, and that after marriage, all women were exactly the same. He told her I couldn’t even compare to her little finger. Watching that scene, I didn’t throw a hysterical fit. I didn’t shed a single tear. Taking a page right out of his playbook, I turned around and became the sugar mommy of a handsome, young college student named Declan. Everything was perfect until one night when Declan got dead drunk. Through his slurred, drunken haze, I heard him call Mike “Uncle.” He mumbled, “Uncle, I did exactly what you asked. I played with her feelings. You better treat Phoebe like a goddamn queen from now on.” Those few words felt like a bucket of ice water, completely waking me up from years of delusional dreaming. I finally made my decision. Mike or Declan, it didn’t matter. Both of these men made me absolutely sick to my stomach. 1 “You have to treat Phoebe right and make her happy for the rest of her life. Otherwise, I swear to God I’ll take her far away from here! If it weren’t for Phoebe, there is no way in hell I would have ever helped you with this.” Having said his piece, Declan looked entirely drained. He slumped at the table, downing his drink gulp after bitter gulp. A satisfied smirk crept onto Mike’s lips. His gaze flicked toward me for barely a second before darting away. “Relax. Phoebe is the first woman in this world to ever show me what real love tastes like. She taught me how to love, and I will never let go of her hand as long as I live.” “I only asked you to play this little part because I was worried Sylvia was too obsessed with me to ever agree to a divorce. I just didn’t want my Phoebe to suffer even the slightest grievance.” I lay quietly on the velvet sofa, faking a deep, drunken sleep. But my heart plummeted into an endless abyss. A biting cold seeped into my veins, freezing my limbs completely numb. Mike had once poured those exact same sweet words out to me, holding nothing back. He had held me so tight, his eyes swimming with deep affection and regret. “Sylvia, it’s such a tragedy we were born at the wrong times. We are seventeen years apart. Will you ever resent me when I get old?” Back then, I was totally blinded by the honey trap of love. I fought my parents to the bitter end and turned a deaf ear to my friends’ desperate warnings. “Mike, I am in love with who you are, not your age. We are going to be the happiest couple in the world!” I sounded so incredibly determined back then. Looking back now, it was absurd to the point of being sickening. To force me into asking for a divorce, he carefully orchestrated this entire scheme, bringing in his own nephew to run a romance scam on me. Could there be a more grotesque joke in this world? “Sylvia loves you? Hah! I just fed her a few sweet nothings and took her out for a couple of joyrides, and she is already dead set on me! Just watch. The second I mention marriage, she will slap those divorce papers right in your face tomorrow morning.” “A woman like Sylvia, who falls for whoever gives her the time of day, isn’t even worth a strand of Phoebe’s hair. She actually genuinely believes I am obsessed with her! It’s hilarious!” Declan laughed out loud, completely unbothered, entirely missing the way Mike’s face instantly darkened. Declan’s gaze swept over my body with undisguised mockery. After making sure I was still passed out, he turned back to Mike. “You really think I’d treasure the used trash you got bored of? It’s just a game. Honestly, touching her makes me feel filthy.” The moment those words hit me, a sharp ache shot up my nose, and my eyes inevitably welled up. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. When Declan and I first met, he knew perfectly well that I was a married woman. Back then, he would blink those innocent, clear eyes and gently pull me into his embrace. His eyes were always swimming with heartbreaking tenderness. “Your husband clearly doesn’t know how to cherish you. I don’t care that you are married. I just want the right to quietly stay by your side. Can I?” That day, I stood completely frozen for a long time. Even after I wandered home in a daze and mechanically cooked dinner for Mike, my chest still burned from the heat of his hug. It had been so many years. The heart that had long died inside that frigid marriage felt like it was finally beating again. Later on, every time he saw me, he brought a bouquet of vibrant red roses. I tried to push them away, tried to decline, but he would just forcefully yet gently press them into my arms. “Sylvia, it’s just a few roses. I only hate that I can’t give you more right now. Once I finally take over the business, I swear I’ll buy you an entire rose estate!” Roses. How long had it been since I last received them? Ever since I married Mike, whenever I hinted at wanting flowers, he would shoot the idea down with the most half-hearted excuses. The only exception was the night he finished celebrating Phoebe’s birthday and casually tossed a withered, dying rose onto the table in front of me like it was garbage. Because of that, when Declan approached me with such burning passion, I grabbed onto him like a drowning woman clinging to driftwood, refusing to miss out on love again. But looking at it now. That decision was fatally stupid. I was just a laughingstock to him, a toy to be used and tossed aside. The truth was far too cruel. Mike didn’t stay in the private room much longer. Shortly after, Declan carried my body out to leave early. By the middle of the night, I was burning up with a high fever. My head was splitting, and in a dizzy, spinning haze, I was rushed to the hospital by Declan. By the time I finally forced my heavy eyelids open, it was already the next morning. Faint sounds of giggling and flirting drifted in from the hallway. Through the glass window on the door, I caught sight of two highly familiar figures. Declan was breathing heavily, pinning Phoebe tightly against his chest. He lowered his head and planted a deep kiss on her cheek. “Phoebe, what on earth are you thinking? How could I possibly fall for Sylvia? What does she have that could ever compare to you? I am pushing through the disgust to do all this just for you. You heartless little tease, how are you going to make this up to me?” A stunning blush immediately spread across Phoebe’s cheeks, and she gave Declan a playful glare. Then, she stood on her tiptoes and carefully, seductively kissed him on the lips. “Come over to my apartment tonight, okay? Your uncle went out of town on a business trip. I will make sure to reward you properly tonight. You know how it is, Declan. My heart loves Mike, and I want to be his legal wife, but my body and my passion will always belong entirely to you.” Declan’s breathing instantly grew heavier. After they finished their nauseating display of affection outside, Declan slowly straightened his wrinkled shirt collar and pushed open the hospital room door. Seeing that I was awake, a fleeting panic flashed in his eyes, but it was replaced by flawless concern in the blink of an eye. “Sylvia, you’re awake? How are you feeling? Does anything still hurt?” I kept my lips pressed tightly together, saying nothing. My eyes were dead-set on the faint red hickeys peeking out from beneath his collar, a violent bitterness flooding my mouth. So the things I heard last night were not just a bad dream after all. Seemingly noticing my unusual stare, Declan very naturally pulled his collar up a bit, leaning in to pinch my cheek with a grin. “Why the long face? Did you black out? You got completely wasted last night and started gnawing on me like crazy. The marks on my neck still haven’t faded. When exactly are you going to take responsibility for me?” My stomach immediately did flips, and my already pale face lost whatever color it had left. He had used this exact same excuse countless times before. Almost every single time he spent the night at my place, he would wake up the next morning with fresh red marks all over his neck and collarbones. He would always look at me with a suggestive, teasing smirk. “Sylvia’s stamina was incredible last night. Look at all your trophies on me. Are you satisfied with your masterpiece?” Deep down, I never really believed it. All my old friends knew I was a happy sleeper when drunk, never the type to go crazy or lose control. But the evidence was always right there in front of me. So every time, I would be teased into a blushing, utterly mortified mess. And Declan would only take it further, pulling me tightly into his arms and pressing a highly restrained kiss to my forehead. “So, when are you going to make me an honest woman? Sylvia, I really want to marry you and tie myself to you for the rest of my life.” I used to think those words were the absolute pinnacle of romance and happiness. Knowing the truth now made it feel incredibly nauseating. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I leaned over the edge of the bed and started dry heaving violently, my ghostly pale face turning beet red from the strain. Declan was clearly stunned. A flash of genuine worry crossed his eyes. He snapped out of it, hurriedly rubbing my back while frantically pressing the call button for the doctor. His anxious act was absolutely bulletproof. “Sylvia? What’s wrong? Is your stomach acting up again?” Meeting his worried gaze, I zoned out for a split second. Declan. Your acting belongs in Hollywood. By the evening, my high fever finally broke. Declan was incredibly sweet as he stayed with me through dinner, but then put on an apologetic face, claiming a sudden company emergency required his immediate attention. His face was a picture of heartbreaking guilt. “Sylvia, I am so sorry I can’t stay here at the hospital with you. The moment I handle things at the office, I promise I’ll sprint right back to you, okay?” I put down my water glass and locked eyes with him. Deep down in the darkest corner of my heart, I still held onto one last, pathetic shred of hope. “But Declan, today is our three-year anniversary. You promised me you would spend it with me.” He was the one who always initiated our anniversaries. Every single time, he would cancel all his meetings and social events just to focus entirely on me. I used to worry that his impulsive behavior would give his rivals ammunition in the family business, but he always acted like he couldn’t care less. “I am just completely helpless when it comes to you. I am more than happy to be the man in the shadows. Let people talk. In this world, the only opinion that matters to me is yours.” “Sylvia, what the hell is work anyway? How could it ever compare to a single strand of your hair? Being with you is the most important thing in my life.” Those words used to make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. They melted my heart into a puddle, warm and burning. I hadn’t felt that kind of unwavering, devoted preference in years. But this time, Declan frowned slightly, a visible trace of annoyance flashing across his features. His tone became stiff and dismissive. “Sylvia, can’t we just celebrate it in a few days? Be reasonable. This project is life or death for me, and I cannot afford to drop the ball at a critical moment.” “Just be good, okay? I will come straight back to you the second I am done.” He didn’t even leave me a second to argue. He grabbed his coat from the chair and walked out of the room without a single backward glance. I sat quietly on the bed. It wasn’t until the air in the room had completely turned cold and dead that I slowly raised my hand to wipe away the dried tears on my cheeks. That last, pathetic sliver of hope finally vanished into thin air. “Declan, I won’t be waiting for you anymore.” Declan never came back that night. The next morning, however, Mike called me out of the blue. His tone was incredibly nasty, his impatience radiating right through the phone. “Sylvia! Where the hell is Phoebe? Didn’t I explicitly tell you to set up a room for her at the house? Did you pull your lady of the house routine and kick her out again? How can you be this petty? Where is a young girl like her supposed to go out there!” “All I asked was for you to help out and cook her a warm meal! Could you not show even a shred of decency to a young girl? When did you become so vicious?” When it came to Mike, I had long since run out of tears and expectations. After all, his countless, blatant affairs over the years had ground whatever fiery love I once had for him into dust. I had dragged out signing the divorce papers purely out of a sick sense of revenge. I maliciously thought that as long as I refused to give up my title, Phoebe would remain nothing but a dirty little secret in the shadows. But now, I was truly exhausted. I didn’t want to play this disgusting game for another second. “Mike, let’s get a divorce.” I hadn’t absorbed a single word of his harsh accusations, nor did I care to. The line went dead silent. It took him a full thirty seconds to find his voice again. “What, couldn’t handle the loneliness and found yourself a new toy? Or did you actually fall for some random guy? Sylvia, is this another one of your games to play hard to get? Using divorce as an excuse to force me to the negotiating table and beg you to stay? Aren’t you tired of this routine?” “How many times do I have to repeat myself? The only woman I will ever truly love is Phoebe!” I couldn’t even be bothered to argue. I actually found his clownish behavior incredibly funny. Didn’t he set up this entire trap himself? How did he have the nerve to play the victim of betrayal now? I simply gave a calm sound of agreement, coldly stated a time to meet at the courthouse for the paperwork, and hung up without hesitation. When Declan rushed to my house, the first thing he saw was the signed divorce agreement laid flat on the table. Joy practically exploded across his face. He didn’t even try to hide the fresh hickeys on his neck or air out the pungent scent of women’s perfume clinging to him before leaning in close. “Sylvia! You finally decided to go through with it?” I nodded expressionlessly. His smile grew so wide it nearly reached his ears. “This is absolutely perfect! Once you are officially single, we won’t have to sneak around like thieves anymore! You’ll marry me then, won’t you? I swear, I will never let you suffer even a fraction of what your ex put you through!” “Sylvia, you have no idea how happy I am!” Looking at Declan’s beaming face, I couldn’t help but let a small smile curl my lips too. Because once those papers were filed, my future would be scrubbed entirely clean of both of these scumbags. Mike disgusted me. Declan made me want to throw up. I didn’t see Mike in person until the day we finalized the paperwork. For some reason, he looked incredibly grim, a dark storm brewing in his eyes. “Did you really fall for someone else? You’re in such a rush to dump me just so you can marry another guy? Sylvia, your so-called true love is pitifully cheap.” I shrugged indifferently, my face a mask of absolute calm. My complete dismissal seemed to instantly ignite Mike’s temper. He took two aggressive steps forward, invading my personal space. “I am warning you one last time! Playing hard to get won’t work on me! You better actually sign those papers! If you try to pull any stunts in there, I will ruin your life!” “And from now on, Phoebe is my legal wife! After this is done, you will personally apologize to her! If you hadn’t kicked her out, she wouldn’t have had to suffer in a hotel! You are deeply manipulative!” I treated his words like absolute garbage. I pushed open the glass doors of the building first, walked straight to the counter, and slapped my ID down. Before the clerk could even go through the standard questions, I spoke up. “I am absolutely certain. I want a divorce.” The process was faster than expected. With no property disputes holding us up, it was a breeze. Before long, the certificate of freedom was resting securely in my hands. The moment I stepped out of the building, I noticed two incredibly flashy luxury cars parked by the steps. One was Declan’s sports car, the other was Phoebe’s ride. Declan hurried over the second he saw me, a massive grin on his face. “Sylvia! Congratulations on your freedom! I came specifically to pick you up to celebrate! I already booked first-class tickets to Paris. Let’s leave today!” At the same time, Phoebe pushed her car door open. Like a fluttering butterfly, she threw herself straight into Mike’s arms, completely ignoring the public setting. “Mike! I’ve waited for you for so long! Does this mean I get to officially be your wife today? My heart was practically breaking from the wait!” Standing on the steps watching this play out, I actually felt a twinge of admiration. All three of them knew exactly how filthy this whole setup was, yet they could still act with such raw, convincing emotion. But mostly, it was just a physiological urge to gag. To complete their supposedly pure, elevated romance, they had effortlessly offered me up as a sacrificial lamb. Could the world get any more absurd? I wasn’t going to give them what they wanted. I slightly shifted my body, coldly dodging Declan’s hand as he reached for mine. His smile froze instantly. Behind me, I could clearly feel Mike’s piercing gaze locked onto my back. “Sylvia, what’s wrong? You finally got rid of that guy, aren’t you happy? You always said you wanted to marry me. The man you truly love is me.” Mike let out an incredibly grating sneer. He deliberately held up his divorce certificate, sporting the smug look of a victor. “Sylvia, we are legally finished. Let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t stick to me like chewing gum anymore. You were acting so aloof inside. What, the moment you step outside, you’re already dying to take it back?” “Sylvia,” Phoebe’s voice was sickeningly sweet, yet laced with hidden venom. “Please, stop trying to steal Mike from me. We are soulmates. Doesn’t Declan love you too? We both get what we want. Isn’t this the perfect ending.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “435826”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel