Author: Momo Chan

I stood by the railing of the Tobin Bridge, the night wind cutting through my coat like a dull blade. It was the night before the wedding. Tomorrow was supposed to be the beginning of my “happily ever after” with Debby. Instead, the echo of her parting words still rang in my ears, sharp as shattered glass. She had slammed the door ten minutes ago, shouting that I wouldn’t be satisfied until I’d driven everyone to their graves. She didn’t realize that I was the one who couldn’t breathe anymore. My world had tilted on its axis the moment the man who spent years ruining my life—Steward—returned. He was the “prodigal son,” the foster brother who had bullied me into a shell of a human being. But ever since he came back from his “rehabilitation” with a supposedly new soul, the world had decided he was a saint. My parents took him back with open arms, telling me I needed to learn the “grace of forgiveness.” Even Debby, who had seen the bruises he left on my skin years ago, now claimed he had changed into someone “gentle and reliable.” The girls he once tormented now looked at him with adoration. My oldest friends called him innocent and kind, whispering that I was the one being petty, holding onto a past that no longer existed. They saw a refined, soft-spoken gentleman; they saw me as a volatile, broken paranoiac. The weight of being abandoned by everyone I loved was heavier than the trauma itself. Maybe the fall would finally be light. I took a deep breath and let go. 1 Even as a ghost, I could still feel the cold. The river water in the middle of the night bit into my phantom bones, the smell of silt and salt clogging a nose that no longer breathed. I found myself hovering near Debby. She was in the back of a car, thumbs flying across her phone screen. I tried to lean in to see what she was typing, but a voice pulled my attention away. It was my mother. “He actually skipped out on his own wedding just because we asked him to let Steward be the best man? How did I raise such a spiteful creature?” My father sighed, his face a mask of exhaustion. “We spoiled him. We sent him to London for years to ‘heal,’ and he comes back even more dramatic. If I’d known he’d be this much trouble, we never should have brought him home.” Five years ago, Steward had been sent away—not to a monastery, but to a juvenile facility after a string of crimes. I was sent across the Atlantic, fueled by Xanax and therapy, trying to piece my mind back together. Debby had been my lifeline then. She flew to see me every month. She studied psychology just to understand me; she learned to cook my favorite meals; she walked through parks with me when I was too scared to speak. It lasted until New Year’s Eve, a month ago. Debby had proposed. I had panicked and fled. She sat outside my apartment in the freezing rain all night, sending apology after apology. She ended up with pneumonia. After three days of hiding, I decided to be brave for her. She had cried, holding me tight. “As long as I’m here, Adrian, no one will ever hurt you again.” Now, Debby gripped her phone, her eyes cold and impatient. “Give him thirty more minutes,” she said, her voice devoid of the warmth I’d died for. “If he doesn’t show up, we find a replacement.” Her gaze shifted to Steward, who was sitting across from her. My parents exchanged a look of relief. “Then let’s get Steward ready,” my father said. “We can’t afford a delay.” “What if he comes back halfway through the ceremony?” my mother asked, her voice hovering between worry and annoyance. Debby offered a sharp, mirthless smile. “He made his bed. Let him sleep in it.” “No,” Steward whispered, his eyes reddening as he shook his head. “Adrian already hates me. If he sees me taking his place, he’ll have another breakdown. He’ll… he’ll try to hurt himself again.” His words acted like a trigger, pulling everyone back into a shared, bitter memory. The day Debby and I returned to the States, my parents brought Steward to the airport to meet us. Seeing that face—the face of my five-year nightmare—sent me into a catatonic state. I collapsed right there in the terminal, losing control of my bladder. I woke up in a hospital bed to the sound of my parents’ disappointment. “We spent hundreds of thousands on his treatment, and he still has zero resilience?” “Steward suffered far more in that facility than Adrian ever did in London, and you don’t see him acting this fragile. The wedding is in three months—if Adrian has an episode like that in front of our investors, it’ll be a disaster for both families.” Debby had held my cold hand then. “Don’t worry. I’ll take him through exposure therapy. We have three months.” Exposure therapy meant forcing me to be near my “allergen.” She knew how much I feared him, yet she made the choice for me. I had been so terrified that I pretended to sleep just to avoid their eyes. When they left, I climbed to the hospital roof. I remember the wind howling, my toes hanging over the ledge. But the moment I closed my eyes to jump, a searing jolt of electricity surged through me. I collapsed backward, my body convulsing in pain. Steward had tackled me, sobbing, slapping his own face as he begged for my forgiveness. My parents had arrived and called me an embarrassment. Debby didn’t even come close; she just stood there, her brow furrowed in a look of pure, clinical exhaustion. Amidst the chaos, through my own screams of pain, I had heard something. It wasn’t a voice. It was a mechanical thought inside Steward’s head. [System, what’s the progress on the ‘Redemption’ meter?] [I’m so sick of this pathetic protagonist. Let’s hurry up and finish the mission so the original host can come back and deal with this mess.] 2 “He’s too cowardly to actually do it,” Debby said, her voice snapping me back to the present. “Every time he ‘jumps’ or ‘swallows pills,’ it’s a cry for attention. He’s being reckless because he thinks I’ll chase him.” She turned and walked toward the smoking lounge. My parents were already ushering Steward toward the dressing rooms, their faces bright with a joy they hadn’t shown me in years. It seemed I was tethered to Debby. I followed her like an invisible shadow. She lit a cigarette and refreshed her phone obsessively. When no message appeared, she slammed the phone onto the marble counter. The screen shattered. I floated closer. Before the screen went black, I saw a news alert. [Body found near Charles River. Police investigating. Identity currently unconfirmed…] “You have twenty minutes, Adrian,” Debby whispered to the empty room, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and something that sounded like grief. “Show up, and we’ll move to Europe the day after the ceremony. I’ll take you away from all of this.” I tilted my head, watching her. I thought about the fight we had last night. Debby had unilaterally changed my wedding suit. She had also agreed to my parents’ suggestion that Steward be my best man. In the bridal suite, a stunning, backless silk gown hung on a mannequin. Next to it was a suit she had chosen—it was high-fashion, sure, but it was cut in a way that exposed far too much skin. “Steward has great taste,” she had said with a smile. “This shows off your frame much better than that boring tuxedo you picked.” I had turned pale. Debby took my hand and forced me to touch the diamond-encrusted cufflinks on the new jacket. They felt like ice. Since I’d been back, they had orchestrated countless “meetings” between Steward and me. Every time, I reacted violently. I tried roofs, pills, traffic, wrists. Every time, I was “saved.” Because Steward had a “System.” He used “points” to keep me tethered to a life I didn’t want. But to my parents and Debby, it just looked like I was throwing tantrums. They thought my suicide attempts were “the boy who cried wolf.” “I told you the wedding could be moved up,” Debby had snapped during the fight. “I told you we’d leave the country afterward. If you hate him so much, you won’t ever have to see him again. Why can’t you just cooperate on the small things? The suit, the best man… it’s just one day.” “Everyone else has moved on, Adrian. You’re the only one clinging to the dirt.” “This suit… it’s too open. I can’t wear it.” I had tremblingly lifted my shirt then, showing her the map of scars on my torso. Debby’s pupils had shrunk. Her expression was unreadable. When I reached for my pant leg to show her the rest, she grabbed my wrist. “Enough,” she said. I forced a smile, my voice shaking. “Did you forget? In that warehouse? Steward used a curling iron on every inch of my body. You were the one who found me, Debby. You were the one who drove me to the ER.” She flinched as if she had been burned, pulling her hand away. 3 “That was a lifetime ago,” she said, her voice hardening again. “He knows what he did. When you were sick, he walked to that cathedral in the rain and stayed on his knees all night praying for you. He makes you soup every day and leaves it at the door so you won’t be scared. He’s trying, Adrian.” “You’ve been away too long. You don’t want to believe people can change. I’m not asking you to love him. I’m asking you to stop being a child on our wedding day.” I had one last shred of hope. “I’ll wear the suit. Just… don’t make him the best man. Please.” Even now, looking at his face made my heart stop. Debby avoided my eyes. “It’s already settled. I’m doing this for your own good. To prove he can’t hurt you anymore.” “Then there is no wedding,” I said. My eyes were red. I pushed the mannequin over, watching the expensive silk crumple on the floor. If I couldn’t even choose what I wore or who stood beside me at my own wedding, what was the point? “The wedding is tomorrow! You’re going to blow everything up over this? Think about the families, Adrian! Think about the bigger picture!” The blood in my veins went cold. I realized then that she had waited until the last minute to tell me about the changes specifically so I couldn’t say no. She was bankrolling my “recovery,” and this was the interest. “So because he’s ‘better’ now, I’m supposed to delete my own history?” I asked, lost. Debby’s face twisted into a mask of fury. “You are being completely irrational!” She left shortly after. My parents and Steward arrived minutes later. “When are you going to grow up?” my father yelled. “We haven’t had a moment of peace since we brought you back!” “Families have friction, Adrian. Get over it,” my mother added. “We’ve all accepted Steward. Your friends have accepted him. Why must you be the one to make everything difficult?” I tried to speak, but the words died in my throat. Steward had once sold my father’s company secrets to a rival, nearly bankrupting us. He had drugged my mother and left her in a dangerous neighborhood to be humiliated. He had broken the limbs of my classmates. He had filmed my friend Becca in the locker room and posted it online. And yet, they forgave him. Steward dropped to his knees, his forehead hitting the floor with a sickening thud. “Adrian, hit me. Scream at me. Just don’t cancel the wedding because of me. I shouldn’t have picked the suit. I shouldn’t have agreed to be the best man.” “I know I don’t deserve to be in your sight, but I can’t leave Mom and Dad! Take your anger out on me, just don’t hurt the innocent people who love you!” He kept banging his head until blood smeared the floor. My parents tried to pull him up, their anger turning toward me. My father shoved me hard. “Are you satisfied? Say something!” “Are we having a wedding or not?” I stumbled, falling against the sharp edge of a side table. A dull thud echoed in my skull, and suddenly, a strange electronic pings sounded in the air. [Host, well done! Family favorability is at 95%!] [At this rate, once the wedding ends tomorrow, the mission will be complete. You’ll be able to leave this world forever!] 4 My parents spent the next hour threatening me. If I didn’t show up, they’d have me committed to a private asylum for life. Then they rushed out to take a “fainting” Steward to the clinic. Shortly after they left, I received two texts. The first was from Steward’s number: [Debby took me to the fitting personally. The suit is sexy, Adrian. Fits me like a glove. She said the one you picked made you look like a mummy—embarrassing to even look at.] The second followed immediately: [She promised me that after the wedding, she’s taking me to Europe with you guys for ‘grad school.’ Are you excited?] Thinking back on it as a ghost, my chest still felt like it was being crushed. A sudden, panicked shout broke the silence in the smoking lounge. “Ms. Sterling! Something’s happened!” Debby’s assistant ran in, drenched in sweat. “The hotel security footage from 3:00 AM shows Mr. Miller getting into a taxi. The GPS tracker shows he ended up at the bridge—” “Debby! Forget about him. He’s not coming.” A calm, male voice cut through the assistant’s panic. It was Justin, my “best friend.” Debby looked up, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?” Justin sighed, looking disgusted. “He called me at 3:00 AM. Begged me to help him run away. When I told him to stop being a drama queen, he bought a ticket to Bali. Haven’t you seen his Instagram?” He pulled out his phone and showed her my profile. I floated over to look. There was a photo of a beach. A location tag for a luxury resort. But I wasn’t in the photo. Debby believed it instantly. Her face turned a sickly shade of gray, then purple with rage. “Fine. He wants to play games? Fine. Tell the planners. The wedding goes on. We’re swapping the groom.” She stormed out. The assistant tried to follow, but Justin grabbed his arm. “This is a merger between two dynasties,” Justin whispered. “Think about the stocks. If this wedding fails, who’s going to take the fall? You?” The assistant froze. Justin let out a breath and sent a quick text. I looked over his shoulder. It was to Steward. [Handled.] Steward appeared a moment later, wearing the suit he had “picked” for me. He looked radiant, his makeup perfect. I could hear his internal monologue cheering. [Favorability is maxed out! System, get me out of here. Let the original host have this body back!] Debby looked at him, her eyes vacant. Suddenly, the air was sliced by the sound of police sirens. Within seconds, the ballroom was surrounded. “Nobody move!” an officer shouted through a megaphone. “We have reason to believe a suspect involved in a homicide is present. Everyone stay where you are!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “422541”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I finally drifted back into consciousness, the world felt cold. Evie, the girl I had spent my entire life protecting, was drowning in a sea of corporate betrayal and public scandal. Worse, her heart was failing—a ticking clock that threatened to end her story before it truly began. Then, a voice flickered in the back of my mind, cold and mechanical. “System online. Host, do you choose to save Evie Pierce?” I didn’t hesitate. I never did when it came to her. To save her life, I gave her my own heart. Or rather, I traded my healthy one for an experimental, mechanical replacement that left me a ghost of the man I used to be. While I was still recovering, I spent every waking hour—and every cent of my savings—building the empire she’d always dreamed of. I drank myself into stomach ulcers and internal bleeding at high-stakes galas just to secure the Series A funding that put her company on the map. But on the night her company went public on the NYSE, Evie didn’t stand by my side. Instead, she announced her engagement to Jasper Knight—the man who had shattered her heart years ago. When I confronted her, heart heavy with a betrayal I couldn’t breathe through, she just brushed me off. “It’s just a strategy, Adrian,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “I’m just playing him. I want him to feel exactly what I felt when he left.” But then my mechanical heart began to fail. I needed a second surgery, a desperate fix. And as I lay outside the operating room, I heard her hushed, frigid command to the surgeon: “Don’t prioritize him. Let him go. Once he’s gone, his kidneys will be a perfect match for Jasper.” 1. I stared at the peeling paint on the hospital ceiling, my breath so thin it barely fogged the oxygen mask. The room was old, crumbling at the edges, much like my own body. “Connection levels dropping below 30%. Mission failure imminent.” My dry, cracked lips twitched into a phantom of a smirk. Failure? No, this wasn’t a drop. This was a total collapse. I remembered two months ago. Her “affection meter”—or whatever the hell this voice in my head called it—had been at 98%. I had spent eight years of my life, minute by minute, sacrifice by sacrifice, building that number. I actually thought she loved me. I guess I was the only one buying into the lie. “Host is urged to re-engage. Failure results in permanent cessation of life.” The mechanical voice was as indifferent as the woman standing in the hallway. “How much longer does he have?” I heard Evie ask. Her voice was low, clinical. “At least a month, if we manage the symptoms,” the doctor replied. I closed my eyes, a bitter laugh rattling in my chest. She was already calculating my expiration date. She wasn’t looking for a miracle; she was looking for a timeline. “Fine,” Evie said. “Keep him stable. Don’t waste the premium meds on him. We need to save the resources.” I whispered into the void of my mind, “Can I end this? I don’t want to play anymore.” The voice paused, a rare glitch in its processing. “Option available. Do you wish to terminate the mission?” The suffocating weight that had been crushing my lungs for years finally lifted. I actually smiled. “End it,” I rasped. “Termination request accepted. Seven-day countdown to cessation begins now.” The moment the words echoed in my skull, a metallic sweetness flooded my throat. I coughed, a violent spray of crimson blooming across the pristine white duvet. The heart monitor beside me began to shriek, a high-pitched alarm that tore through the silence of the ward. Through the haze, the door burst open. Evie rushed in, her face a mask of panicked concern. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes wide. “Doctor! Get in here!” she screamed, playing the part of the grieving, devoted partner to perfection. I struggled to keep my eyes open, watching her. It was strange. Even now, at the very end, she still looked like the girl I’d loved since we were kids. But as the darkness pulled at the edges of my vision, I realized her panic wasn’t for me. It was for the donor she wasn’t finished with yet. I let go. The world went black. When I woke up again, Evie was nowhere to be found. Two nurses were quietly moving around the room. “The guy in the VIP wing is so lucky,” one whispered, her voice tinged with envy. “Just a bit of a stomach ache and his girlfriend is losing her mind.” “You don’t know who that is?” the other replied. “That’s Evie Pierce. The tech mogul. She’s been at his bedside for twenty-four hours, hand-feeding him soup. It’s like something out of a movie.” I licked my lips, the simple movement sent a jolt of pain through my throat. My mind drifted back. I remembered the nights I’d spent vomiting blood after business dinners I attended in her place. She’d stand by the bed, tossing a pack of over-the-counter pills onto the nightstand. “I ordered some meds on UberEats, Adrian. Just hang in there. This contract is too important for me to miss the meeting.” The memories were like glass shards in my brain. The questions I had spent years suppressed suddenly began to cut deep. It wasn’t that her love had faded. It was that it had never existed. I wasn’t from this world. I’d died in another life and ended up here, reborn into this story with no memory of my past until the “System” woke up. I’d fallen for Evie because she was the girl next door who had “saved” me from bullies when we were kids. I was just a foster kid living with a distant aunt, and she was the sun I orbited. When her parents died and her family’s company was gutted, she was the one dying in a hospital bed. That was when the System kicked in, telling me I could save her. I thought my devotion would be enough. I thought if I gave everything, I’d get a sliver of her heart in return. The door creaked open. Evie walked in carrying a thermos. “Adrian? You’re awake.” She set the thermos down and reached out, pressing her palm to my forehead. “You’ve still got a fever. Why aren’t you resting?” I looked at her. It was the same face, but she felt like a stranger. She took my hand, her eyes rimmed with red. “You were out for a day and a night. You scared me to death.” For a second, a tiny, pathetic part of me wanted to believe her. Maybe she wasn’t that heartless. “The doctors said there isn’t a compatible mechanical heart available for the swap yet,” she said softly, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “You just have to wait a little longer.” I stared into her eyes. They were beautiful, filled with a mimicry of worry. But I knew the truth. A high-end replacement was a phone call away for someone with her net worth. She wasn’t waiting for a heart. She was waiting for me to die so she could harvest what was left of me for Jasper. Her phone buzzed. she glanced at it, and immediately started to stand up. “Can you stay?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Just for a bit. My chest… it hurts.” She froze. She didn’t even look up from her screen as she typed a reply. When she finally turned to me, the mask slipped. The impatience in her eyes was sharp enough to draw blood. “Adrian, don’t be difficult. If it hurts, call the nurse. I have things to take care of. I’ll be back when I’m done.” The pain in my chest flared, sharper than any mechanical failure. She didn’t notice. She was already halfway out the door. What were those eight years? What was any of it? Maybe it was just the lingering ghost of the man I used to be, but I couldn’t stop myself from calling out one last time. “Evie.” She stopped, her body already leaning toward the hallway. She looked back over her shoulder. “What?” “Do you love me?” She went still. A beat of silence stretched between us. Then, she spoke. “Of course I do.” In my head, the mechanical voice chimed in, colder than ice: “Warning. Connection level -10.” I gripped the bedsheets until my knuckles turned white. Even her lies were starting to cost her. 2. Midnight. Outside the window, fireworks erupted, casting flickering shadows across the sterile walls of my room. Evie’s Instagram updated. “He told me he was hurting, so I wanted to bring a little light into his world. 99 fireworks for the man who deserves the moon.” The photo showed Jasper sitting up in a VIP hospital bed, the sky behind him exploding in gold and violet. The shot was intimate. He was looking at the camera, a smirk playing on his lips. The comments from her inner circle—the people who had always looked down on me—were already rolling in. “Jasper is so lucky. Evie, you’re the best.” “Finally, the power couple is back together!” “Matches made in heaven. So happy for you two!” My hand shook as I scrolled. My finger slipped, accidentally hitting the ‘like’ button. I panicked, trying to undo it, but the post vanished instantly. A second later, a text from Evie popped up. “Adrian, why are you still up? That post was just PR to keep Jasper’s investors happy. Don’t overthink it. And don’t be jealous.” I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I didn’t know what to say. Then, another message arrived. Not from Evie. From Jasper. It was a screenshot of Evie’s private story—the one I was blocked from seeing. It was a montage of them. Candid photos, wine nights, them laughing in the back of a limo. Jasper: “Know your place, Adrian. Stop clinging to a woman who doesn’t belong to you.” Jasper: “She’s the one asking me to marry her now. Just thought you should know.” My vision blurred. A dull roar filled my ears. Whenever Evie talked about Jasper to me, it was always with “hatred.” They had been the “it” couple in college, engaged and everything. Then her family went bankrupt. Jasper hadn’t just left; he’d run. He found a wealthy heiress and dumped Evie with a two-hundred-dollar check and a slap to the face. “You’re a charity case now, Evie. Don’t call me again. You’re beneath me.” On the day of our engagement, Jasper had sent a cake. Evie had smashed it on the floor, her face twisted in disgust. And yet, here she was. Deleting posts the second I saw them, curating a private world for him while keeping me in a box. The “hatred” was just a cover for the fact that she could never let him go. I felt the last of my strength drain away. I went to my profile and changed my avatar—a photo of us together—to a blank white square. I looked at the date. Five days left. The fireworks were still going off outside. They sounded like gunshots. Being sick is a slow, heavy process, but the time seemed to bleed away. Evie didn’t come back. Jasper, however, made sure I was kept in the loop. Every two hours, he sent a new update of their “domestic bliss.” He sent a photo of their living room. A massive, blown-up portrait of their “wedding shoot” was already hanging on the wall. When we got engaged, I’d suggested taking photos. I’d spent weeks researching studios. Evie had just rolled her eyes. “I hate stuff like that, Adrian. It’s performative. It’s meaningless.” Apparently, it wasn’t meaningless when it was Jasper. With one day left on my clock, Evie finally showed up. She looked exhausted but moved with a cold, relentless authority. “Tomorrow,” she said, not looking at me. “You’re coming to my wedding.” I didn’t need the System to tell me there was no love left in her voice. Just a command. “I don’t want to go.” She bit her lip, that familiar flash of annoyance crossing her features. “Jasper wants you there. You have to come. You told me once you’d do anything for my happiness, didn’t you?” I looked at her, truly looking at her, wondering how I’d ever seen a soul in those eyes. She claimed this was all revenge, but I was the only one being punished. A violent coughing fit seized me. Blood flecked my chin. She didn’t move. She didn’t even flinch. She just glanced at her watch. “The doctor says you’re stable enough. Stop the drama, Adrian. I’ll have a car pick you up tomorrow.” She left, and the silence of the room felt like a tomb. “System. Can I choose the exact moment?” The voice was flat. “Yes.” “Good.” I closed my eyes, a strange sense of peace settling over me. The next day, I was escorted to the venue. The decorations were breathtaking—and hauntingly familiar. It was the exact design I had put together for our wedding, three years ago. Jasper appeared behind me, his voice dripping with smug triumph. “I found these plans in a box of your stuff when we were clearing out the villa. I thought they were decent, so I used them. You should be flattered.” I turned to look at him. He was wearing a suit that cost more than my first car. He leaned in, whispering so only I could hear. “See? The moment I came back, she came crawling. She doesn’t care about you, you pathetic lapdog.” I felt a surge of revulsion and stepped back. He took the opportunity to throw himself backward, collapsing onto the floor with an exaggerated cry. “Adrian! I know you hate me, but you can’t just push me!” My eyes widened. Before I could speak, Evie charged out from the wings, shoving me aside so hard I hit the wall. She knelt by Jasper, her voice frantic. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Then she turned to me. Her eyes were like shards of ice. “How dare you? Who gave you the right to touch my husband?” Jasper clutched his chest, shooting me a wink from behind her shoulder. I looked down at my shaking hands. “I didn’t push him.” “Jasper wouldn’t lie about that,” Evie said, her voice thick with disappointment. “I didn’t realize you were this pathetic. Sit down and stay quiet for the ceremony. Don’t make me regret bringing you.” She led him away. I was forced into the front row by her security team. I could feel the eyes of her friends on me—pity, mockery, amusement. The ceremony was a blur of expensive flowers and hollow vows. Then came the toasts. Jasper took the mic, looking every bit the victor. “I want to thank one person specifically,” he said, looking directly at me. “Adrian. Thank you for taking such good care of Evie while I was gone. You kept her warm for me. I’d love for you to come up here and share in our joy. Tell everyone how happy you are for us.” The guests cheered. Evie looked at me, her expression dead. “Get up there, Adrian. You heard him.” I stood up. My legs felt like lead. As I walked toward the stage, I spoke to the voice in my head. “System. Now. Let me go.” “Initiating self-destruct sequence. Countdown: 5… 4…” I reached the stage and took the microphone. I smiled. It was the first real smile I’d had in years. “3…” The room went silent. I couldn’t hear the crowd anymore. I could only hear Evie and Jasper whispering to each other a few feet away. “Look at him, Evie,” Jasper snickered. “He looks like a stray dog waiting for a scrap.” “He is,” she whispered back. “2…” “Do you still love him? Even a little?” Jasper asked. “No,” she said, her voice clear and cold. “I never did. He was a foster kid with a savior complex. I used him. That’s all.” “1…” I looked her in the eye. “Evie,” I said, my voice steady through the speakers. “I hope you get exactly what you deserve. And I hope we never meet again—not in this life, or any other.” “Mission failed. Host deceased.” A torrent of blood erupted from my mouth, splashing across her white designer gown. I saw the flash of pure, unadulterated horror in her eyes as my knees gave out. The world screamed, and then, finally, there was nothing.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “422540”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was born with a glitch. My brain processed the world slower than other kids, and I had a rare condition that made me a stranger to physical pain. Because of this, I became the family’s designated shock absorber. For sixteen years, I was the human shield for my brother’s mistakes. Every time Ben messed up, I was the one who took the blow. I remember when Ben got caught cheating on a history test. When the school called, my mother spent the entire afternoon lashing me with a leather belt. Even as the skin on my back split and burned, I kept a vacant smile on my face. It didn’t hurt, so I didn’t cry. Then there was the time Ben stole money from her purse for snacks. She grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head against the drywall. My scalp tore; blood slicked down my neck. I didn’t make a sound. Every time Ben saw me battered and bruised because of him, he would collapse into my arms, sobbing, promising he’d be better, promising he’d never get into trouble again. My mother always watched these scenes with a grim sort of satisfaction. She truly believed this was the most effective way to parent—to teach the “good” child through the suffering of the “broken” one. Everything changed during the last round of midterms. Ben’s ranking dropped by exactly one spot. My mother called him over, her face a mask of cold fury. Then, out of pure habit, she swung her hand at me. That single slap sent me reeling. The back of my head clipped the sharp, brass corner of the sideboard. I hit the floor, and a dark, warm pool began to spread across the hardwood. Through the hazy veil of my vision, I saw her grab Ben. He was screaming, his heart breaking, but she just nodded, satisfied. “That’s enough,” she told him. “Stop crying. She’s had her punishment. Let’s go out and get something nice to eat. It’ll settle your nerves.” I watched their retreating figures, my eyelids growing heavy. For the first time in my life, I thought I felt something. A dull, throbbing thrum. I told myself I had to get better quickly. Because the next time Ben messed up, he was going to need me. … 1 When I opened my eyes again, I was hovering near the ceiling. Below me, a cold, stiff version of myself lay on the floor. A dark, dried crust had formed beneath the back of my head. I knew then. I was dead. The strange thing was, even as a ghost, I still couldn’t feel any pain. I floated toward the front door just as my mother was leading Ben back inside. Ben’s face was a ruin of tears and snot, his eyes darting back and forth. My mother gave his arm an impatient tug. “Stop looking over there. She’s fine. It was one slap, for God’s sake. Come on, let’s go get that dessert.” The door clicked shut. I followed them out. She took him to the boutique bakery downtown, the one with the expensive window displays I’d always peered at. The place was packed. She found a corner table and pushed the menu toward him. “Order whatever you want. It’s on me.” Ben stared at the table, his eyes vacant. My mother sighed, her voice softening into a tone she never used at home. “Benny, I know you’re upset. But you have to understand me. Your father ran off with that woman and took every cent we had. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a woman alone?” Ben remained silent. “You’re all I have to show for my life,” she continued. “You’re the man of the house. If you don’t succeed, who’s going to give me a reason to hold my head up? Look at your sister—can she be counted on for anything? If you make something of yourself, you’ll get your fair share of your father’s estate one day. I lost his heart; I refuse to lose the money, too.” She paused, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t blame me for being tough. You two are twins. You’re the same blood. I do this so you’ll remember the cost of failure. It’s the only way you’ll stay hungry for success.” Ben gripped the edge of the menu so hard his knuckles turned white. Watching from the air, a lump formed in my non-existent throat. All these years, since the divorce, she had been our everything—mother, father, provider. I was a burden, a slow-witted girl with a medical anomaly. I had cost her so much. I didn’t hate her for hitting me. In a twisted way, I was glad I could be useful. If I couldn’t make her proud with grades, at least I could be the whetstone that sharpened Ben’s ambition. The waitress brought two drinks. My mother took them, then glanced at the glass display case. “Give me a slice of that strawberry shortcake to go,” she called out. She fumbled through her wallet, checking her change, looking relieved when she had enough. She muttered to herself, “I might have gone a bit too far this time. I’ll give her the cake, apologize, and it’ll be fine.” Ben snapped his head up, his eyes bloodshot. He opened his mouth as if to scream, but no sound came out. I watched her carefully tuck the cake box into a paper bag. Strawberry. My favorite. She remembered. A pang of longing hit me. I wished I could still swallow, just to taste the ghost of that sugar. When we got back to the house, my bedroom door was still closed. My mother stood in the hallway, clearing her throat. Her voice took on that performative, “sweet” quality. “Daisy? You still pouting? I bought you that strawberry cake you like. Come on out.” 2 Seconds ticked by. Silence. She waited, her patience thinning. “Look, tomorrow is your and Ben’s birthday. I know I was a little rough yesterday, but you know how I get. I’m leaving the cake by the door. Come out and eat it when you’re done acting like a martyr.” Nothing. The house felt unnervingly still. She sighed, set the box on the floorboards, and disappeared into the kitchen. Ben stayed in the hallway. He stared at the closed door for a long time. I floated right next to him, wanting to tell him, I’m right here, Ben. I’m okay. But he couldn’t see me. He couldn’t hear me. That night was a slow torture. I spent it hovering over that strawberry cake, watching the cream start to sink. The next morning, the front door burst open. It was my father. He was carrying two wrapped gifts, a forced smile on his face. “Daisy! Ben! Happy birthday, kids!” My mother walked out of the kitchen, her face instantly hardening. “What are you doing here?” “It’s my kids’ birthday. I’m allowed to be here.” He set the boxes on the coffee table and looked around. “Where’s Daisy?” She pointed vaguely at my door. “In there. Throwing a tantrum.” My father frowned. “What happened this time?” She didn’t answer, turning back to the stove. My father’s eyes wandered to the coffee table, landing on Ben’s latest report card. His expression shifted from annoyance to cold realization. “Did you hit her again?” My mother stuck her head out, a sneer on her lips. “None of your business.” His voice was low, vibrating with a dangerous heat. “I asked if you hit her.” “So what if I did? I’m raising them. You checked out years ago.” “Ben screwed up, so you took it out on Daisy? Again?” The fire was lit. She stormed out of the kitchen, hands on her hips. “You don’t get to judge me! You’re the one who called her a ‘liability’ during the mediation. You didn’t want the slow kid, remember? Now you’re playing Father of the Year?” “I was trying to—” “I know exactly what you were doing,” she spat. “You’re just terrified I’ll actually raise Ben to be successful enough to claim his inheritance over your other brat.” My father’s face went scarlet. “That is bullshit!” They descended into a screaming match, a familiar soundtrack to my childhood. Ben shrunk into the corner, clutching the gift my father had brought, staring at his feet. I hovered between them, trying to bridge the gap, but I was air. I was nothing. As I drifted, my eyes caught a sliver of movement at the bottom of my bedroom door. A thin, dark-red stain had begun to seep out from under the wood, soaking into the hallway carpet. Ben saw it too. He froze. His face went from pale to ghostly white. “Enough!” My father slammed his hand onto the table, rattling the coasters. “I’m taking Daisy with me. Right now. You aren’t fit to be a mother.” He turned and reached for my door handle. 3 My heart—the ghost version of it—leapt. I tried to block him. If they saw me like that, it would break them. I didn’t want them to know. But my mother grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare!” “Watch me!” They scrambled, a mess of limbs and shouting. My father was stronger; he shoved her back and gripped the handle. Suddenly, Ben lunged forward, throwing his body against the door. His voice was cracked, trembling. “Stop it! Just stop!” Both parents froze. Ben’s shoulders were shaking violently, but he kept his voice steady through sheer will. “She’s probably just sleeping. Let her sleep.” My mother frowned. “In the middle of the day?” Ben wouldn’t look at her. He just stood there like a sentry. My father looked at my mother, then at Ben. Finally, he let go of the handle, his expression icy. “Fine. I won’t fight you today. But if anything is wrong with her, Margo, I will ruin you.” He slammed the door on his way out. My mother spat a curse, her anger still simmering. She walked over and pounded on my door. “Daisy! Get out here! Stop playing dead! You won’t eat your cake, you won’t open the door—what the hell do you want from me?” Silence. “Fine! Stay in there forever for all I care!” She huffed, turning to Ben. “And you? Go do your homework. Now!” Ben walked slowly to his room. Before he closed his door, he gave my room one last, haunted look. The house went quiet. My mother sat on the sofa, scrolling through her phone, probably venting to someone on Facebook. I drifted through the ceiling, trying to scream, trying to cry. But ghost tears don’t fall; they just dissolve into the ether. I wished I were alive. I missed feeling nothing. Now, I felt everything but the touch of the world. The next afternoon, Ben came home from school. He looked ill. He pulled a graded quiz from his backpack. My mother heard the zipper and emerged from the kitchen. She took the paper, and her face fell. “Another drop? Ben, what is wrong with you?” Ben didn’t say a word. He looked like he was made of paper. She slammed the quiz onto the table and marched toward my door. “Daisy, out. Now. Same old story—your brother failed again.” Silence. “Daisy!” Still nothing. I was frantic, circling the door, trying to manifest enough energy to turn the lock, to do anything. If she opened the door, she’d see the horror. But if she didn’t, who would take Ben’s punishment? Her temper finally snapped. “You think you’re special now? You think you can just ignore me? You think a closed door protects you from a licking? I’ll show you!” She backed up, bracing herself to kick the door in. 4 “Enough, Mom.” Ben’s voice was eerily calm. “Daisy’s done enough for me. This time, take it out on me.” My mother blinked, stunned. This wasn’t the script. Ben was the compliant one. Ben was the prize. Then, she let out a sharp, jagged laugh. “Oh, playing the hero now? You think I’m the villain? You think I’m biased?” Ben didn’t move. His silence was the final spark. Her face twisted. She went to the laundry room and grabbed the heavy plastic drying rack pole. “Fine. If you want to know what it’s really like, I’ll show you!” The first blow landed across his shoulders. Then another. And another. Ben gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound. Blood began to seep through his school shirt, spotting the floor. I screamed. I lunged at her, trying to grab the pole, but my hands passed through it like smoke. Ben just stood there, taking it. After a dozen strikes, she threw the pole down, panting. “There. You happy now?” Ben didn’t answer. He was vibrating with pain, but he remained upright. I was sobbing, hovering inches from his face, begging him to hear me. She grabbed her purse and slammed the front door as she left the house. Ben stood in the silence for a long time. Then, he slowly knelt, picked up the pole, and put it back in the laundry room. I thought he was going for the first-aid kit. Instead, he went to the kitchen. When he came back, he was holding a paring knife. He walked to my door. He hesitated for a long beat, his hand on the knob, then he pushed it open. The smell hit the hallway immediately. A heavy, sweet, metallic rot. I looked at my body in the corner. It was beginning to change, the skin darkening, the air around it thick. Ben flinched, but he stepped inside anyway. The room was dim, the curtains drawn. Only the small desk lamp cast a weak glow. He looked at me—the real me—lying on the floor. He sat down beside my corpse. “Daisy,” he whispered. I couldn’t answer. His shoulders began to heave. “I’m so sorry.” “I knew. I knew you were taking the hits for me. I wanted to help, but I was so scared. It hurts so much when she hits.” “Every time you got hurt, I told myself I’d be better. But I couldn’t get the perfect score. I couldn’t be the person she wanted…” “Am I a failure, Daisy?” I shook my head violently. No, Ben. You’re just a boy. You’re just a kid. He couldn’t hear me. “When she hit you yesterday… I saw you go down. I thought you were just mad at us. Until I saw the blood under the door.” “I killed you. So I’m coming to pay the debt.” He smiled, a heartbreaking, shattered expression. I tried to grab the knife, but my fingers were mist. He looked at the framed photo on my nightstand—the two of us at the county fair three years ago. “Wait for me, Daisy.” The knife dragged across his wrist. The red was sudden and bright, blooming across his white sleeves. He winced, a small frown of discomfort, and then he leaned his head against my cold shoulder. “It hurts,” he whispered. “Daisy… I never knew it hurt this much for you.” I knelt beside him, trying to hold him, trying to tell him that for me, it hadn’t hurt at all. I tried to plug the wound with my ghostly hands, but the blood just flowed through me. I watched until his breathing became a shallow flutter. Then, silence. Hours later, the front door opened. My mother came in carrying shopping bags and a fresh cake box. She kicked off her shoes, sounding almost hesitant as she called out into the dark house. “Daisy? Ben? Come on, let’s have a real birthday. I bought treats.” No one answered. She frowned, setting the bags on the counter. “Daisy? Do you hear me?” When the silence persisted, her irritation returned. She walked to the hallway and pushed the door open. It wasn’t locked. It swung wide. The light from the hallway spilled in, hitting the floor. Her face turned to stone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “422539”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I had been married to Tracy for exactly three years. It happened on a Tuesday night. I was reaching for a glass of water when I saw words floating above her head. They were white, semi-transparent, and scrolled slowly from left to right like a live feed of subtitles on a streaming site. The text read: Why is he still awake? God, he’s so annoying. I froze. Tracy was propped up against the headboard, her eyes fixed on a stack of legal documents. Her expression was the same as it always was—composed, professional, and utterly cold. Her lips hadn’t moved. She hadn’t breathed a word. But I felt it. I knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that I was seeing her inner monologue. I rubbed my eyes, hard. When I looked back, the words were gone. Taking a shaky breath, I leaned in and gently rested my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, babe,” I whispered, testing the silence. “Do you think we could grab dinner together tomorrow? Just the two of us?” Instantly, a new line flared into existence above her perfectly groomed hair: Clinging to me every single day. Doesn’t he ever get tired of it? But the voice that came out of her mouth was smooth and indifferent. “We’ll see.” My hand slid off her shoulder, falling limp at my side. 01 My name is Adrian. I have been Tracy Montgomery’s husband for three years and four months. That was the first time the subtitles appeared. It was also the first time I realized that “we’ll see” didn’t mean “let’s check the schedule.” It meant: Stop bothering me. I didn’t try to touch her again that night. I stayed on my side of the king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling. Tracy flipped a page of her brief, and another line drifted by. [Finally, some peace and quiet.] Those four words hurt worse than if she’d screamed them. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, feeling my heart constrict as if a sharp fingernail were slowly digging into the muscle. The next morning, I got up at 6:00 AM, just like I always did. I prepared a gourmet breakfast: soft-poached eggs over avocado toast with a side of smoked salmon and her favorite micro-batch coffee. Tracy came downstairs, looking sharp in her charcoal power suit. She sat down and began to eat. Above her head, the text scrolled by: [Avocado toast again. Can’t he find something new to do?] She didn’t say a word out loud. I pushed a small bowl of fruit toward her. “Tracy, I picked up the berries fresh this morning. They’re much sweeter than the last batch.” “Mhm,” she grunted. The text: [Like I care.] I looked at the breakfast I’d spent forty-five minutes perfecting and suddenly lost my appetite. For three years, I had been the perfect “house husband.” I got up at dawn every single day. I curated menus, I tracked her favorite roasts, I made sure her life was seamless. One thousand mornings of devotion. And for one thousand mornings, she hadn’t cared. Not once. At 10:00 AM, my father-in-law arrived. Richard Montgomery walked into the house wearing a cashmere overcoat, carrying two boxes of high-end supplements. “Where’s Tracy?” “At the office, sir.” I took the boxes from him and moved toward the kitchen to make tea. Richard sat on the sofa, and a line of text hovered over his head. [Calling me ‘sir’ like he actually belongs here. Pathetic.] My footsteps faltered. Richard scanned the room with a critical eye. “Adrian, the water in those lilies needs changing. It looks stagnant.” “Of course, Richard. I’ll do it right away.” [All he does is hover around Tracy. Look at him—no career, no ambition. If it hadn’t been for his father saving my life in that crash years ago, my daughter would never have looked twice at a man like him.] A long, dense paragraph of text scrolled across his brow. I stood at the kitchen sink, the cold water running over my fingers until they went numb. So, that was it. This marriage was a debt repayment. Years ago, my father had been the first person on the scene of a horrific car accident. He’d pulled Richard from the wreckage and stayed with him until the paramedics arrived. I had always believed the Montgomerys welcomed me into their family out of genuine gratitude. Now I knew the “kindness” was just a cage made of “obligations.” I changed the water in the vase and set it back on the coffee table. Richard glanced at me. [At least he’s useful for chores. That’s about the extent of his value.] I sat across from him and poured his Earl Grey, the same polite smile on my face that I’d worn for three years. Only now, I knew the smile was a mask. And I knew exactly how thin it was. That afternoon, Tracy’s assistant called. “Adrian, Ms. Montgomery asked me to let you know she has a late client dinner. Don’t wait up for her.” “I understand,” I said. I hung up and sat alone at the dining table. I’d already prepared her favorite—lemon-herb roasted chicken and garlic broccolini. I took a bite of the chicken. It tasted like ash. 02 By the third day, the “bullet chats” were becoming sharper, more vivid. It was as if someone had installed a transparent screen in front of my eyes. Anyone within five yards of me revealed their darkest, pettiest thoughts. The cashier at the grocery store: [Another one of these stay-at-home trophy husbands. Must be nice to spend all day spending someone else’s money.] The security guard at our complex: [This guy is always grocery shopping while his wife is out running an empire. Wonder how long until she trades him in?] Even the security guard saw it. It took everyone else five minutes to realize what I had spent three years ignoring. On Saturday, Tracy was actually home. She was in the study, buried in emails. I brought her a fresh cup of coffee. “Tracy? Your dark roast. Just the way you like it.” She took the cup without looking up. The text: [Again? Can’t he go five minutes without interrupting me?] I smiled, stepped back, and quietly closed the door. In that moment, I felt something inside me click shut as well. At 2:00 PM, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find a man standing there. He wore a perfectly tailored white linen shirt, his hair styled into that effortless “I just woke up in the Hamptons” look. In his hand was a signature Tiffany-blue gift bag. Thomas Thorne. Tracy’s college sweetheart. The Creative Director at Montgomery Holdings. And, according to everyone who knew them, Tracy’s “one that got away.” “Adrian! Long time no see, man.” He flashed a brilliant, white smile. But the text above his head told a different story. [Three years later and you’re still squatting in this house? Give it up already.] I kept my voice level. “Thomas. Come on in.” He walked in as if he owned the place, his eyes surveying the decor. [Nice place. Pity it’s occupied by someone so… mid.] “I brought a little something for Tracy,” he said, handing me the bag. “A silk scarf I picked up while I was in Milan. I saw it and immediately thought of her.” The text: [Let’s see if you can even afford the tax on this.] I took the bag. “Thanks, Thomas. Her birthday isn’t until next month, though. You’re quite early.” He gave a playful shrug. “We’ve known each other for twelve years, Adrian. I don’t need a calendar to remember what she likes.” The text: [You’ve only known her for five. You’re a blink of an eye in her life.] Tracy heard the commotion and came out of the study. When she saw Thomas, her face remained neutral, but the text appeared instantly. [He’s here. That shirt looks incredible on him.] She had never once commented on what I wore. Whenever I asked her, Does this look okay? her answer was always a distracted It’s fine. The three of us sat in the living room. Thomas and Tracy started talking shop—new projects, market trends, high-level strategy. Tracy was actually engaging, speaking more in ten minutes than she had to me in a week. Thomas’s subtitles were scrolling at lightning speed. [See this, Adrian? She actually has things to talk about with me. What do you have? Recipes?] [Once I land the ‘Whale Fall’ contract, you’ll be completely irrelevant.] Whale Fall. That name hit me like a physical jolt. “Whale Fall” was the hottest name in the contemporary art world. Over the last two years, this anonymous illustrator’s work had exploded globally. Their prints sold out in seconds; their collaborations were the gold standard of the industry. Montgomery Holdings had been desperate to land an exclusive licensing deal with Whale Fall for months, but the artist was a ghost. They only communicated through a high-profile agent. Thomas was the lead on the project. What Thomas didn’t know—what no one knew—was that the artist behind Whale Fall was me. I took a sip of my tea, my hand trembling just slightly. It wasn’t fear. It was a strange, cold fire rising in my chest. Three years ago, when I married Tracy, I had put down my brushes. She had told me, “We have more than enough money. You don’t need to work. Just take care of us.” I thought it was a gesture of love. Protecting me. The bullet chats told me the truth: She just thought my work was beneath her. My agent, Paige, had kept my secret faithfully. We used the pseudonym “Whale Fall,” and she handled the business. In three years, the price of my original canvases had jumped from a few thousand to half a million dollars. The licensing fees in my private account totaled over twenty million. Tracy didn’t know. Thomas didn’t know. Nobody knew that the “house husband” they mocked was the very genius they were currently begging for a meeting. When Thomas finally left, he gave me a condescending pat on the shoulder. The text: [Enjoy the last of your days here, Adrian.] I waved him off. “Safe travels, Thomas.” I closed the door and leaned my back against the foyer wall. I closed my eyes. I’m done, I thought. Three years of playing the devoted, clinging husband. It ends today. 03 The change began the very next morning. The alarm went off at 6:15 AM. I didn’t get up. I rolled over, hit snooze, and went back to sleep. When Tracy went downstairs at 7:00 AM, the dining table was empty. No eggs. No artisanal toast. No perfectly brewed coffee. She stood there for a few seconds, the text above her head appearing: [No breakfast today? Well, saves me the calories, I guess.] She grabbed her keys and left. She didn’t even ask if I was okay. I watched her car pull out of the driveway from the upstairs window. Usually, I would have run to the door to say “Have a good day!” or “Drive safe!” Today, I stayed in bed. At noon, I didn’t text her. Usually, I sent at least five messages throughout the day. Did you eat lunch? How’s the meeting going? Thinking of you. Her replies were always: K. Fine. Busy. I opened my phone and texted Paige instead. “Hey. Schedule a meeting with Lawrence at the Vanguard Gallery. I want to talk about a solo show.” Three seconds later, Paige replied with twenty exclamation points. “ADRIAN! Finally!! Lawrence has been begging for this for a year! I’m on it!” I smiled. A real smile. Not the one I used for Tracy. That afternoon, I went downtown. I didn’t go grocery shopping. I went to a real estate office. “I’m looking for a loft in the West End,” I told the agent. “One bedroom, lots of natural light. Something private.” The agent was eager. “What’s your budget, sir?” “Let’s keep it under five thousand a month for now.” “I have three perfect spots to show you.” When I walked out of the office, the March sun felt warm on my face. The wind was still a bit chilly, but for the first time in three years, I felt like I could breathe. When Tracy got home that evening, it was 7:30 PM—earlier than usual. She walked into the kitchen. The stove was cold. There were no delicious aromas. “Adrian?” I walked out of the bedroom, holding a book. “Yeah?” She looked at the empty table. The text: [No dinner? What is this, a tantrum?] “You didn’t cook?” she asked aloud. “No. I had a long day. I’m pretty tired,” I said, my voice flat. “There’s some frozen pasta in the freezer if you’re hungry.” Tracy stared at me. The text: [Fine. One lazy day. Whatever.] She went into the kitchen. I heard the tap run, the clatter of a pot hitting the stove. For the first time in our marriage, she was boiling her own water. I turned a page in my book. I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t feel bad. I just felt… light. 04 A week passed. I stopped the 6:00 AM wake-up calls. I stopped the mid-day texts. I stopped meeting her at the door to take her bag and pour her wine. The change was massive, but Tracy’s reaction was almost nonexistent. For the first three days, her subtitles read: [Quiet for once. Nice.] [Finally, he’s stopped clinging to me. It’s a relief.] [He probably read some article about ‘giving your wife space.’ Whatever.] She was actually relieved to be rid of me. I looked at those words and felt a sharp, bitter laugh bubble up in my throat. Fine, I thought. Let’s see how much you enjoy the quiet. Wednesday evening, Richard Montgomery showed up again. This time, he wasn’t alone. He brought Thomas. “Adrian, Thomas said he’s been craving your signature steak, so I told him we’d drop by!” Richard announced, walking in. The text: [Thomas and Tracy belong together. If I didn’t owe his father, this seat would already be Thomas’s.] Thomas walked in, acting like he lived there. The text: [I’m going to show Tracy today exactly why I’m the better man.] In the past, I would have scrambled. I would have rushed to the kitchen, apologized for the mess, and whipped up a five-course meal while smiling through their insults. Not today. “Sorry, Richard,” I said, staying on the couch. “The fridge is pretty empty. We should probably just order out.” Richard froze. The text: [What? Every time I come over, there’s a feast. What is this kid doing?] “Order out?” Richard frowned. “We’re in a home with a professional kitchen. Ordering out is for people who can’t manage their households.” I shrugged. “I can pull up DoorDash. What are you in the mood for?” “DoorDash?” Richard’s face went purple. The text: [Is he losing his mind? What kind of house-husband is he?] Thomas stepped in smoothly. “Don’t be upset, Richard. Why don’t I cook? I picked up a great recipe for scallops in butter sauce recently. I’d love for you to try it.” He headed for the kitchen. Richard’s scowl turned into a beaming smile. “Thomas, you’re a gem. Truly.” The text: [Look at Thomas. Then look at Adrian. Night and day.] I sat on the sofa, watching Thomas rummage through my kitchen for spices. In the past, this would have gutted me. I would have hidden in the bedroom and cried. Now, I just watched his subtitles. [I’m using his favorite apron. I’m going to drink out of Tracy’s favorite glass while he watches.] When he served the food, he used the fine china I had spent months collecting. The text: [Beautiful plates. I’ll keep these when I move in.] Tracy arrived home then. Seeing Thomas in an apron in her kitchen made her pause. The text: [Thomas’s here?] Followed immediately by: [He actually looks good in that.] Then she looked at me. The text: [Adrian is just… sitting there? That’s not like him.] “Hey,” I said. Just ‘hey.’ No ‘babe,’ no smile, no getting up to take her coat. Tracy’s brow furrowed. The text: [What is wrong with him?] But she didn’t ask. She never asked. The four of us sat at the table. Thomas’s food looked good, I’ll give him that. Richard took a bite and practically moaned. “Thomas, this is better than any restaurant.” The text: [If Thomas were my son-in-law, I’d be the happiest man alive.] Thomas smiled modestly. “You’re too kind, Richard.” The text: [Keep praising me. Do it right in front of her.] I ate slowly, in silence. Usually, I would have tried to jump into the conversation, saying, “I’ll have to learn that recipe, Richard!” Today, I said nothing. Richard noticed. “Adrian, you’re awfully quiet.” “Just eating, Richard.” Richard huffed. The text: [Look at that attitude. If you’re so jealous, go cook something better.] After dinner, Thomas insisted on doing the dishes. I went to the living room to drink water. Richard followed me, lowering his voice. “Adrian, we need to talk about your attitude lately.” “My attitude?” “Don’t play coy. You’re cold, you’re quiet, you’re not even cooking. You married my daughter to take care of her, not to be a pampered prince.” The text: [Know your place. If it wasn’t for your father, you wouldn’t be fit to shine Tracy’s shoes.] I looked him in the eye. Usually, I’d look at the floor and whisper, “I’m sorry, I’ll do better.” Today, I just nodded. “I hear you, Richard.” The tone was the same as always. But I knew the meaning was different. Before, “I hear you” meant “I’ll obey.” Now, it meant: I’m done arguing with a ghost. 05 Day ten. The shift was finally too big for Tracy to ignore. It started with an Instagram post. In the past, my feed was a shrine to her. Dinner Tracy made! So lucky! (I made it). Flowers from my wife! So romantic! (I bought them for myself and staged the photo). So grateful for us. (A photo of us where she was looking at her phone and I was beaming). Pathetic? Yes. On day ten, I posted something new. A painting. A watercolor I’d done in secret—a whale breaching from a dark sea, its back covered in blooming flowers. The caption was just two words: Whale Fall.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “422538”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The system glitched at the worst possible moment—right as I was fleeing in disgrace, chased out by the return of the “rightful” Santiago heiress. In a jagged tear of space and time, I was spat out six years into the future. But there was a catch: my body had shrunk, reverted to the small, soft frame of a six-year-old child. When I finally looked up, blinking through the haze, I collided with a pair of eyes that held nothing but frozen steel. It was Benson Wilder. He looked down at me, his gaze calculating and sharp. “Where did you come from, kid?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. Out of sheer, terrified instinct, I stammered my old name. “I’m Cassidy Santiago…” The words hadn’t even fully left my lips when neon-red lines of text began to scroll across my vision—the digital feedback of the system, a spectral commentary only I could see. [Oh my god! Is that the villainess? Why is she a toddler?] [She actually dared to show her face again? After what she did?] [Poor Benson. Back then, he treated her like she was his entire world. He worked himself to the bone for her while she treated him like a dog.] [And then she just vanished. He spent six years looking for her, probably wanting to grind her bones to dust.] [The name ‘Cassidy Santiago’ is a death sentence in this town now. Is she suicidal?!] A paralyzing chill crawled up my spine. Benson’s eyes had shifted. The cold indifference was gone, replaced by a sudden, murderous intensity. Survival instinct kicked in. Before he could react, I added a trembling postscript: “…I-I’m your daughter! Yours and Cassidy’s!” 1. The cigarette dangling from Benson’s lips hit the pavement with a quiet thud. A full minute of suffocating silence followed. Time seemed to liquefy, then freeze. It took him a while to find his voice again. “What?” He looked at me as if I’d just told the most absurd, cosmic joke in history. His gaze dropped from its heights, no longer just cold, but tangled with a dark, complex confusion. “What did you just say?” It wasn’t just Benson who was stunned. The digital comments were losing their minds. [Classic Cassidy. Even as a kid, she’s a manipulative masterpiece.] [You’ve gotta have a black belt in sociopathy to come up with that on the fly.] [I see. This must be the ‘Detective Conan’ defense strategy.] [Just accept it, Benson. Being her ‘daddy’ isn’t much different from being her ‘dog’ like you used to be.] I looked up at him properly then. Six years had transformed the Benson Wilder I knew. Gone was the lean, hungry boy; in his place stood a man with a raw, predatory edge. He was six-foot-one of broad shoulders and lean muscle. He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower—drips of water traveled from the tips of his hair, tracing the line of his jaw before disappearing into the collar of his black T-shirt. His tan skin had a damp, healthy sheen. He pushed his dark, messy fringe back with a careless hand, revealing brows as sharp as blades. Benson’s looks were never in question. If they had been, I probably wouldn’t have stayed with him as long as I did back in the day. Under different circumstances, this would have been a beautiful scene of a man in his prime. If only his eyes didn’t look like they wanted to commit a felony. But what choice did I have? I’d begged the system to transport me away to escape Benson’s wrath, only to be dropped right on his doorstep six years later. Outside, a torrential downpour was turning the night into a blurred, black mess. I was a six-year-old girl. I had no money, no ID, and no coat. As the saying goes: the safest place is the most dangerous one. Welcome to the lion’s den. I tilted my head back and said with practiced earnestness, “I said… I’m Cassidy’s daughter. She told me my father’s name was Benson Wilder. That’s you, right?” During those years with Benson, I’d developed many skills. My greatest was the ability to lie with a straight face and an innocent heart. Benson fell silent again. His gaze swept over me, his eyes darkening. He opened his mouth, his voice sounding oddly hoarse. “You…” He probably wanted to ask my name. Or how I found him. But in the end, a thousand questions condensed into a single, low command. “Get inside. The rain’s picking up.” He turned on his heel, his long strides taking him into the foyer. He glanced back at me once, then grabbed a thick wool throw from the sofa and tossed it over my head. His voice softened, though it still had that jagged edge. “You’re covered in goosebumps. Wrap yourself up.” 2. Benson and I sat facing each other. Because I was so small, he had to lean forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, to meet my eyes. “So… you’re saying you’re my daughter. With Cassidy Santiago.” He let my name linger on his tongue for a second, a bitter taste. Then he looked at me again. “What’s your name?” The suspicion hadn’t left his eyes. I paused, my hand tightening around the glass of water he’d given me. Right. A name. I needed something that wouldn’t trigger his alarms. I remembered a rainy afternoon years ago. We were curled up on a lumpy sofa. He was massaging my legs, feeding me strawberries, his expression a mix of adoration and exasperation. “If you ever have a little monster exactly like you to torment me, I’ll be completely helpless,” he’d muttered. I had yawned, teasing him. “Oh? You already have names picked out?” Benson hadn’t hesitated. It was as if he’d been reciting them in his head for months. “Sophie,” he’d said, his ears turning a bright, embarrassed red. “Sophie Santiago. Or Sophie Wilder. Either works.” I hadn’t taken him seriously then. I thought it was just a daydream. But now? Now it was a lifeline. “Sophie,” I whispered. “But people call me Soph.” Benson’s entire demeanor fractured. It was as if he’d been struck by a physical blow. He went rigid, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp hiss. He leaned back into the sofa, looking like a man whose ghost had just left his body. He reached for a cigarette, then stopped, glancing at me before shoving the pack back into his pocket. When he looked at me again, his voice had changed. It was dry, raspy. “How old are you?” I bit my lip, looking down at my small, chubby fingers. “Six.” I wasn’t avoiding his gaze because I was shy. I was avoiding it because I was afraid he’d see the grown woman hiding behind my eyes. Benson didn’t notice. He was lost in his own mental math. “Six years,” he murmured to himself. “When did… I don’t remember… Was I that drunk?” He ran a hand through his hair, staring at me as if trying to see through my skin. “Dammit. You have her eyes. Her nose. Even that mouth. Why don’t you look a damn bit like me?” Realizing he shouldn’t be swearing in front of a child, he went quiet for a moment. He stood up and headed for the kitchen, his tone awkward but intentionally gentle. “Do you want milk? Fruit? And… don’t repeat that word I just said.” Wait. Was he actually buying this? I was stunned. I gripped the edge of the sofa, looking toward the kitchen. “You… you aren’t worried I’m lying?” Benson didn’t look up as he warmed the milk, his movements practiced as he pulled cereal from the cupboard. “You look exactly like her. I’m not an idiot.” I fell silent. The digital comments followed suit. [He sees the face of his ghost, and he’s done for. He’s a goner.] [Benson, for the love of God, get a DNA test!] [She’s playing him like a violin, and he’s just leaning into the music.] [Poor guy. He went from being her dog to being her ‘daughter’s’ servant. Some things never change.] Benson brought over a mug of warm oatmeal milk. “I don’t have juice. Drink this.” There was a long pause before he asked the question I’d been dreading. He tried to sound casual, but his voice betrayed him. “Where is she? Where’s your mother?” 3. Here it was. The moment of truth. The comments were more nervous than I was. [The million-dollar question. If she messes this up, it’s game over.] [Benson is holding his breath. Look at his knuckles.] [One wrong word and she’s out in the rain.] I felt my eyelid twitch. Benson stood there, waiting with surprising patience to take my empty mug. I handed the glass back and lowered my eyes. “She’s gone.” It was the answer Benson expected. He let out a sharp, cynical bark of a laugh. “Of course. Typical Cassidy.” He took the mug back to the kitchen. I could hear the rush of the faucet, a sound that masked the tremor in his voice. “Where to this time? Japan? London? I figured she’d fled the country the second she realized the walls were closing in. That’s why I couldn’t find her for six years. But she didn’t take you? Just dumped you on my doorstep because she knew her ‘baby daddy’ was rich now?” I looked down at the coffee table. It was covered in a delicate, hand-crocheted lace cloth—something Benson and I had found at a flea market years ago. I scanned the room. This was a two-bedroom apartment. Benson had kept it impeccably clean, and to my shock, it looked exactly the same as the day I left. Even my favorite ceramic vase was still on the windowsill. By now, Benson should have been back with the Wilder family, living as their crown prince. Why was he still keeping this little apartment? Why keep the ghost of a woman he supposedly hated? My nose began to sting. Maybe I was catching a cold from the rain. I rubbed my face with the back of my hand and spoke quietly. “She didn’t go on a trip, Benson. She’s gone. To a place far away.” I wasn’t lying. I added in a whisper, “She might never come back.” The sound of shattering glass echoed from the kitchen. Benson spun around, his face drained of color. “Never come back? What the hell does that mean?” He walked toward me, his steps slow and heavy. He knelt on the floor in front of me, his hand coming up to gently cup the back of my head, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were rimmed with red. “And then?” His voice was a series of broken notes. “Are you saying… she’s dead? She just left, and then she just died? Just like that? Leaving me with another one of her messes?” He searched my face, his expression agonizing. “Are you the only thing she left behind? The only thing I have left of her?” 4. Hey, stop wishing me dead! I’m right here! I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t. If I told the truth, I’d be dead for real. I kept my head down and gave a tiny, miserable nod. The comments exploded. [Holy shit. One sentence and his hate-meter just dropped to zero.] [This is the ultimate ‘villainess’ move. Pure purification by death-hoax.] [Benson’s internal monologue: Great, she left me a kid but didn’t leave herself.] I ignored them. I looked at Benson and asked softly, “I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t know anyone else. Can I stay with you?” Benson looked down, his thoughts unreadable. Finally, he stood up and headed for his office. His voice was thick. “Where else would you live if not with your father? Go watch cartoons for a bit while I get the room ready. I’ll sleep in the office. You take the bedroom.” He paused at the door. “It’s late. Kids shouldn’t stay up. We’ll talk tomorrow.” An hour later, I was tucked under the covers, pulled tight against my chin. The rain outside had settled into a rhythmic patter. The sheets were fresh, smelling of sunlight and lavender detergent. He’d changed everything, leaving no trace of himself. I thought back to when I first met Benson. He was eighteen. It was raining then, too. He was hunched in an alleyway, clutching his stomach in pain, soaked to the bone. That was when the comments first appeared in my life. [Here we go! 18-year-old Benson! Six months until he hits the jackpot!] [Waiting for the heroine to show up!] [Wait, who is this rando? Cassidy Santiago? She’s hijacking the plot!] [This isn’t the story I signed up for!] From those comments, I’d pieced together the “original” story. Benson was the protagonist, a “tragic-yet-beautiful” hero. The heroine was supposed to be a girl named Isabel. Benson had grown up in the shadow of his parents’ screaming matches in a damp, moldy house. Isabel was a blurry shadow from his childhood—a girl who had lived next door to his grandfather one summer. She’d given him a bowl of noodles and some iodine when his father had beaten him nearly to death. The comments said Isabel was his “Saint”—the one who would later save him. In six months, the wealthy Wilder family would find him and realize he was their long-lost heir. I had stood there in the rain, holding my umbrella, my hand trembling. Money. So much money. This boy was a ticking time bomb of wealth. And right then, he didn’t even know his “Saint’s” real name. I looked down at the shivering boy. Fate was a funny thing. I knew the “heroine” Isabel. She was my cousin, currently studying in London. She wasn’t due back for a year. That was more than enough time for me. “Hey? Are you okay?” I’d asked, leaning over and shifting my umbrella to cover him. I made sure my smile was perfectly calibrated—kind, concerned, and just a little bit magical. “There’s a clinic nearby. Let me help you?” Benson had looked up at me, his eyes cold and defensive. “I’m fine.” He looked like a stray cat—cornered, wet, and trying to hiss his way out of a trap. I’d feigned a moment of realization, frowning slightly. “Wait… I think I know you.” I leaned in closer. “Did you live next door to my grandfather? Mr. Santiago?” The comments were right; Benson was a loyal dog at heart. His eyes had widened, his entire body going still. “Mr. Santiago was your grandfather? You… you were there?” I’d helped him up, leaning the umbrella further over him, letting myself get wet. “Yeah,” I’d said casually. “I stayed there a few summers.” I was a siren, singing a song he desperately wanted to hear. “We’ve met before. Don’t you remember?” … The rain had stopped, but sleep wouldn’t come. I stared at the ceiling. Same bed. Same room. For me, it had been a blink of an eye. For Benson, it had been over two thousand days. I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow. In his eyes, I was just a woman who used him and then discarded him like trash. Whatever happens, happens tomorrow. From the office next door, I heard a strange sound. It was the sound of someone trying, and failing, to stifle their sobs. I closed my eyes, feeling a sudden heat behind my lids. Fine, Benson, I thought. You’re probably just so happy to hear I’m dead that you’re crying tears of joy.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “422537”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the eve of my wedding, Kael, the Alpha of Shadowfen Pack, took me to his hunting celebration. His deputies whistled and hooted: “Alpha Arthur’s eldest daughter from Frostveil Pack is truly pure. Our Alpha Kael is so lucky.” Kael lowered his head and kissed my hair, his pride impossible to hide. “My Elara is, of course, the best. Not like those wild sluts out there.” I went to the woods to clear my head after drinking too much. As I walked back to the door, I heard Kael’s mocking voice from inside the room. “Purity? What’s that worth? She’s stubborn as a rock, like a dead fish in bed. If she couldn’t help me take over Arthur’s territory, and if she didn’t have the same face as Sera, I wouldn’t even bother touching her.” My blood instantly froze, and I felt my wolf howling wildly. Sera, my twin sister, Alpha Arthur’s youngest daughter from Frostveil Pack. The next day, my wedding to Kael proceeded as planned. All members of Frostveil Pack and Shadowfen Pack gathered at the ceremony altar. I wore a gown embroidered with white wolf totems, waiting to complete the ceremony with him. Just as we were about to exchange rings, Sera, with her visibly swollen belly, walked towards us, surrounded by a group of wolf guards. Kael stepped forward to shield her, his eyes devoid of any guilt as he looked at me. “Elara, Sera is carrying my heir. Shadowfen Pack needs her as my Luna. This engagement ends here. Please, let us be.” I looked at my own sister, my flesh and blood, and at the fiancé I had loved with all my heart, and then I smiled. I brutally tore off the necklace around my neck, which symbolized the alliance between our two Packs. Holding up the hem of my gown, I walked step by step towards the man sitting in the shadows. Killian, the Beta of Shadowfen Pack, a broken wolf who couldn’t shift, his hind leg injured by silver seven years ago. The entire Pack gossiped that this crippled wolf had watched over me for seven years. I knelt before him and whispered, “They all say you like me. Now, I’m single. Do you dare marry me?”

“Elara’s lost her mind!” “She actually chose a cripple? A broken wolf who can’t shift!” “Frostveil Pack’s reputation is ruined because of her! The Alpha’s daughter, marrying a crippled Beta who can’t shift!” Piercing laughter erupted from all directions, each sound like a claw tearing away my last shred of dignity. My mother, Eleanor, rushed down the aisle like a madwoman, gripping my arm tightly. “Are you insane? Spiting Kael isn’t worth ruining your entire life over a Beta?!” On the altar, Kael wrapped an arm around Sera’s waist, a sneering smile on his face as he watched the drama unfold. “Tsk, I underestimated Elara. She’s certainly got guts.” Sera let out a delicate chuckle, deliberately caressing her pregnant belly, her eyes brimming with provocation. “Guts? I think she’s gone mad. Elara, are you really going to spend your life with a broken wolf who can’t even stand properly? He can’t even protect you.” My heart felt like it was being ripped apart by wolf claws. I thought tearing up the engagement would free me from my cage, but instead, it led to even more profound humiliation. Just then, Killian stood up. His right leg was weak, and he stumbled as he rose. Every step he took showed he was enduring immense pain. Compared to the triumphant Kael on the altar, Killian was in the mud, Kael in the clouds. I suddenly regretted it. Impulse is a devil. Why did I choose a broken wolf who couldn’t even walk normally? Was I really going to marry him and be mocked by the entire North American wolf community for the rest of my life? Killian stopped in front of me and pulled a ring from his pocket. The band was polished from one of his own shed wolf claws, with only a small, dull moonstone embedded in it. It couldn’t even compare to a fraction of the diamond earrings Kael casually gave Sera. The laughter from the crowd grew louder. “Hahaha, even the wedding ring is pathetic!” “Elara, are you truly willing? Following him, you’ll even lose your inheritance rights to Frostveil Pack!” My eyes almost welled up with tears. I was Alpha Arthur’s eldest daughter of Frostveil Pack, born at the top of the pack. When had I ever suffered such humiliation? But the next second, Killian reached out and gently took my hand. His hand was warm, steady, calloused from years of holding weapons, yet incredibly gentle. “I do.” Two words, deep and firm, without a hint of hesitation. Those two simple words instantly calmed my restless heart. My throat tightened. “Are you sure? Right now, I’ll only bring you endless trouble.” “I’m not afraid.” He looked into my eyes, not flinching. The laughter from below turned into furious growls. Someone bared their fangs at Killian. “Two failures, a perfect match!” “A cripple with a madwoman, truly a match made in hell!” Kael strode down from the altar, looking down at me with an air of condescension. “Elara, don’t be childish. Come back. The child in Sera’s belly needs a father, and you need an Alpha who can protect you.” Listening to his words, a coldness spread through my heart. Kael played with my feelings, got my sister pregnant, and this philandering man still had the nerve to say he’d protect me? I looked at Killian. His leg might be broken, but his heart wasn’t rotten. “Yes, I will.” I extended my hand, and Killian slipped the smoothly polished wolf claw ring onto my ring finger. The ring fit perfectly, as if it had been custom-made for me seven years ago. The crowd erupted in an uproar, wolf howls echoing everywhere.

The sneering expression on Kael’s face instantly vanished, replaced by pure fury. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with a force that almost crushed my bones. “Elara, you’d rather choose a cripple to spite me than lower yourself to beg?” Before I could struggle free, my father, Arthur, rushed over. I thought he was coming to pull Kael away, to protect me. But he raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Slap!” The sharp sound echoed piercingly in the quiet woods, silencing all whispers. My cheek instantly swelled and turned red, and I staggered back two steps from the force of the blow. The entire scene fell silent for a moment, then erupted into even louder murmurs. “You’ve brought utter disgrace upon Frostveil Pack! Get back here immediately!” Father’s eyes held no hint of tenderness, only raging fury and undisguised disgust. I covered my face, tears nearly spilling out. Not from pain, but from the bone-chilling disappointment. My own father would rather watch his daughter be betrayed by her fiancé than jeopardize the alliance between the two Packs, to preserve his ridiculous reputation. Sera then came over, pretending to intervene, reaching out to pull us apart. “Daddy, please don’t be angry. Elara is just acting on impulse.” As she spoke, she deliberately bumped me hard with her shoulder, and I stumbled and fell to the ground. The wolves below began pointing and scoffing disdainfully. “This Frostveil Pack’s upbringing, tsk tsk…” “The elder daughter is a lunatic, but the younger one is much more sensible.” “Good thing Alpha Kael chose the right person, otherwise Shadowfen Pack would be in chaos with that madwoman.” Sera proudly caressed her pregnant belly, her eyes filled with the triumph of a victor as she looked at me. Killian tried to rush to my aid, but Kael’s two guards held him back firmly, pinning him in place. “What are you? A broken wolf, daring to touch the future Luna of Shadowfen Pack?” Kael sneered, looking down at me. I lay on the ground, watching Killian’s anxious but helpless face, a despair deeper than any physical pain welling up inside me. Was this the man I chose? He couldn’t even get close to me, couldn’t protect me. Kael knelt down, reaching out to help me up, his voice laced with false tenderness. “Do you see now? This is your choice. How can a broken wolf who can’t even stand protect you? Come back. I can let bygones be bygones, as if none of this ever happened.” This man, who just last night mocked me as a “dead fish” in a separate room with his friends. Now he was acting all tender and loving. Disgusting. I used all my strength to violently swat his hand away. “Get lost!” Kael’s face instantly darkened, the killing intent in his eyes almost overflowing. “You’re ungrateful.” He stood up and kicked the hem of my gown by my side, tearing the fabric instantly. “Since you’re so cheap, go live with your cripple. But don’t you dare regret it!” Seeing this, Arthur rushed forward again, raising his hand to strike me once more. “Why aren’t you apologizing to Alpha Kael?!” Eleanor also rushed over, weeping, pulling my arm and shaking it. “Elara, are you mad? Are you going to ruin your whole life just to spite him?”

The laughter from the crowd never stopped, like they were watching a meticulously choreographed farce. “Elara really is crazy.” “To choose a broken wolf out of spite, she must be really desperate.” “Frostveil Pack truly is cursed, to have a daughter like that.” Sera opportunistically walked over, proudly displaying her belly, looking down at me, her words full of false concern. “Elara, calm down. Even if we had a misunderstanding, Kael truly cared for you. Look at Killian, he can’t even protect you. Is he truly worth entrusting your life to?” Every word she spoke stabbed at my heart. I lay on the ground, feeling the malice surrounding me. Had I, indeed, made the wrong choice? Just then, Killian suddenly burst out. He used all his strength to break free from the two guard wolves’ hold. Even though he trembled with pain, he limped towards me. He knelt down and carefully helped me to my feet. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to suffer like this.” Then he turned his head and looked at the triumphant Kael. “You’re right, I can’t protect her right now.” My heart instantly sank to the bottom. Even he, was he going to abandon me? But the next second, he looked up, his gaze sweeping over all the wolves present. “But at least, I won’t hurt her.” “You mock her for being crazy, mock her for choosing me, a broken wolf, out of spite. But have you considered? What exactly pushed an Alpha’s daughter of Frostveil Pack to tear up her own engagement at her wedding ceremony with her own hands?” The entire crowd fell silent instantly. “It was betrayal. It was deceit. It was harm from her own flesh and blood.” “My leg was injured by silver, I can’t fully shift into my wolf form, but my heart isn’t rotten. I can’t give her the position of Luna of Shadowfen Pack, I can’t give her countless treasures, but I can give her absolute loyalty. Not like your Alpha, who got Elara’s twin sister pregnant before the wedding.” Kael’s face turned ashen, and his full Alpha presence instantly erupted, pressing down on Killian. “Stop being so dramatic! What right do you, a broken wolf, have to speak here?!” “What right do I have?” Killian interrupted him, meeting his dominance without an inch of retreat. “I have the right to love her and protect her. What about you? What right do you have?” “Stop talking nonsense!” Kael roared furiously, ordering the guards behind him. “Throw this broken wolf out! Never allow him to step foot into the territories of our two Packs again!” Several guard wolves swarmed over, grabbed Killian, and, ignoring his struggles, dragged him forcibly out of the venue.

At that moment, my mother, Eleanor, clutched my arm tightly, pulling me up from the ground. “Let go of me! What are you doing!” I struggled desperately, but her grip was too strong, making me powerless. “Shut up! You’ve embarrassed us enough!” She dragged me, pulling me towards Frostveil Pack’s underground silver cage in the woods. I was thrown into the underground cage, crafted from pure silver. Just getting close to it brought an agonizing burning sensation. “Bang!” The heavy iron door slammed shut, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock. I rushed to the door like a madwoman, pounding on the silver bars. “Open the door! How dare you lock me up! Open it!” Kael’s voice drifted from outside. “Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse the little interruption earlier.” “Now, my discarded ex-fiancée is reflecting in the silver cage downstairs. How long do you think it will take for her to come to her senses and beg me?” A deafening roar of laughter erupted from the crowd. “Alpha Kael is truly amusing!” “This is more exciting than watching wolves fight!” “That woman deserves it! Serves her right for being so ungrateful!” I became the publicly displayed joke of this grand ceremony. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a SnapChat from Mom. “Elara, stop making trouble. The child in Sera’s belly is the future of our alliance. Her happiness is what matters most. Kneel and apologize to Kael, and this whole thing will blow over.” I stared at the words on the screen, feeling a chill run through me. Sera’s happiness matters most. What about me? Doesn’t my happiness matter? Doesn’t my dignity matter? Do I deserve to be betrayed, humiliated, and locked in a silver cage, made a laughingstock for the entire Pack? Music started playing outside. Kael and Sera were dancing at what was supposed to be my wedding, the applause from the guests growing louder and louder. And I, like trash, was locked in this dark, cold silver cage. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a SnapChat from Sera. “Elara, I know you’re angry right now. But think about it, Kael is so amazing, what’s wrong with him having a few people he likes? Just be magnanimous, give me the Luna position of Shadowfen Pack, and I’ll ask Daddy to let you out.” I slid down the cold silver bars, curling into a ball on the ground. The burning pain in my body, my family’s betrayal, my lover’s humiliation, Everything, like a tide, engulfed me, pushing me into a bottomless abyss. The sound of a key turning came from outside. The iron door opened, and dazzling moonlight streamed in. Kael stood at the doorway, followed by a group of curious pack members, all holding their phones, their cameras pointed at my disheveled self. “Elara, what have you decided? Ready to apologize?” I looked up at his hypocritical face, about to speak. Suddenly, from the direction of the ceremony grounds, a thunderous wolf howl erupted, Followed by dense, murderous howls, one after another, growing closer and closer.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “385537”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My Omega stepsister, Rebecca, suddenly got pregnant, but no one knew who the father was. I was furious and about to send people to investigate, but my father, Alpha Arthur Hayes, stopped me. “Ava, this is your child too!” My Mate, Jason Miller, the Alpha of the Stoneclaw Pack, stood silently beside my father, tacitly agreeing with his words. I understood. Rebecca’s child was Jason’s. Seeing my silence, Jason defended himself: “You don’t want to have children anyway. Rebecca is your sister, just an Omega. Her having a child won’t threaten your position as the Luna of the Stoneclaw Pack.” In their eyes, I never said no to them. But they didn’t know I had already fulfilled my promise to my mother. Now, I was returning to my grandfather, the Alpha King. Jason’s hand was still resting on Rebecca’s swollen belly. The sight stung my eyes. “Ava, don’t be mad at Jason.” Rebecca lay on the bed, a harmless smile on her face. “The doctor said I’m not well. Alpha Jason was just afraid something might happen to me and the baby, which is why he kept it from you.” “We’re both doing this for your own good. You’ve been Luna for so many years without a child; many people are already unhappy about it.” She said this, then intimately patted the back of my hand. “When the baby is born, you can be his stepmother and let him call you Mom, okay?” My father, Alpha Arthur Hayes, cleared his throat, adopting the stern, authoritarian posture expected of Silverfang’s Alpha. “Ava! Once this child is born, we’ll merge the two Packs! He’ll be our heir! Your sister is unwell, yet she’s helping you and your Mate. Aren’t you grateful? Why the sour face?” Jason finally took his hand off Rebecca’s stomach and walked towards me. He tried to take my hand, but I pulled away. His arm froze in mid-air. “Ava, after all these years as Mates, don’t you understand me? Everything I’m doing is for you, for our two Packs. I can’t let others say you’re a Luna who can’t bear children. And I certainly can’t let our two Packs be without an heir.” I looked at him, unable to say a word. When I considered the current situation of both Packs, I had once suggested merging them. But they both disagreed. Alpha Arthur Hayes said that since I was already the Luna of the Stoneclaw Pack, I shouldn’t be greedy for the Silverfang Pack. And Jason said he was responsible for revitalizing the Stoneclaw Pack and couldn’t merge. So, I handled the affairs of both Packs by myself. Those two Alphas, however, only cared about indulging in parties and leisure, and spending time with Rebecca. Now that Rebecca was pregnant, they suddenly agreed to merge the Packs. It turned out there was no other reason from beginning to end; it was simply because I was an outsider. Seeing I was unmoved, Jason’s patience wore thin, and he tugged impatiently at his tie. “Alright, stop this. I’ve already had David Lee prepare dinner to celebrate. As Luna, you should at least make an appearance.” He turned to help Rebecca, his movements more gentle than I had ever seen him with me. “Becca, what do you want to eat? I’ll have the kitchen make it for you.” Rebecca leaned weakly into his embrace, whining, “I want caviar, and I want you to feed it to me yourself.” “Okay, anything for you.” Before, they had kept their secret relationship from me because they were worried about Rebecca. Now that Rebecca was pregnant, they no longer cared about my feelings. The pain of my Mate’s infidelity made it hard for me to stand. I leaned against the sofa, watching them flirt openly, as if I weren’t even there. Just then, the Pack doctor walked in, carrying his medical bag. He smiled broadly and pulled a check-up report from his bag. “Alpha Jason, Alpha Arthur, good news!” He handed the report to Jason, his voice booming. “Miss Rebecca’s fetus is very stable. The examination shows it perfectly inherited the powerful Alpha bloodline! Congratulations, Alpha Jason, you have an heir!” Jason kissed Rebecca hard. Alpha Arthur Hayes was also flushed with excitement. The doctor turned to me, a hint of pity in his smile. “You shouldn’t be too sad. Since you can’t get pregnant, having Miss Rebecca help you have one is the same. After all, she also has Silverfang Pack blood.” The room filled with laughter, like sharp needles, piercing my ears again and again. I clutched my phone, my nails digging into my flesh. Jason held up the report and walked towards me. “Ava, look how adorable he is. From now on, he’ll be our child.” Alpha Arthur Hayes quickly added, “But Ava, even though the child will be registered under your name, he’ll still call Becca ‘Mom.’ We can’t forget the birth mother.” They were as persistent as ever, believing I would agree to all their requests. Just like soon after my mother’s funeral, my father brought home a stepsister who was only half a year younger than me. He said she was the daughter of a deceased friend, but her face was ninety-nine percent like his—I later found out she was the daughter of his Omega mistress. Just like when Jason said he wanted a child, I tried countless methods. Even though I had told him before we Mated that it would be difficult for me to have children. This was because seven years ago, I had made a solemn vow at my mother’s deathbed. I swore to help my weak father support the Silverfang Pack and to pave the way for the declining Jason. At that time, our two Packs had just formed an alliance. My mother hoped that my Mate Bond with Jason would solidify the fragile alliance and bring prosperity to both families. For my mother, my father was her love, and Jason’s father had saved her life. But for me, my father never treated me like his daughter, and Jason disliked my strong-willed nature. They desperately wanted a new heir. A powerful Alpha bloodline that had nothing to do with me. Especially my father, Alpha Arthur Hayes. He thought my powerful strength came from his bloodline. But he forgot that my mother was the Alpha King’s daughter. Now, the seven-year agreement was up, and it was time for me to leave.

I turned, shutting the room full of family joy behind the door. Walking to the deserted balcony, I dialed Marcus Collins, the Alpha King’s assistant. “Marcus, seven years are up.” The other end of the line was silent for a moment, then a sigh came through. “Miss Ava, the Alpha King has prepared everything. With just your word, all funds injected into Arthur Hayes’s and Jason’s companies will begin to withdraw within twenty-four hours. We expect all funds to be pulled out in six days. Afterwards, the Alpha King will send warriors to reclaim most of the Silverfang Pack and Stoneclaw Pack territories.” “Good, begin.” Hanging up the phone, I felt the shackles that had bound me for seven years finally loosen. Jason had walked over at some point, frowning as he looked at me. “Who are you on the phone with so mysteriously? Ava, I’m warning you, don’t take my money and waste it outside.” He lectured me as if it was his right, completely forgetting that I was the one managing all his companies. I ignored him and walked straight to the dining room. The long dining table was laden with dishes, all of them Rebecca’s favorites. Jason meticulously deboneed fish for Rebecca, completely oblivious that I hadn’t even touched my forks. Alpha Arthur Hayes was red-faced from drinking. “Ava, transfer all the company shares under your name to Rebecca’s child. Consider it a welcoming gift for the future Alpha.” I looked up at his calculating face. I nodded. “Okay.” My immediate agreement surprised them all. Jason was the first to react, a satisfied smile on his face. “I knew Ava was the most reasonable. The shares in my company that you hold, transfer those too. For our child, I’m sure you’ll be willing.” Rebecca leaned into Jason’s embrace, feigning worry as she tugged on his sleeve. “Jason, don’t be like that, Ava will be unhappy.” Alpha Arthur Hayes scoffed. “How could she be? She’s very happy! Right, Ava? Come on, propose a toast to Becca and say a few words of blessing.” Jason picked up a glass of red wine and handed it to me. “Propose a toast to Becca and say a few words of blessing.” His tone brooked no argument. I looked at the glass of wine but didn’t take it. Jason’s face instantly darkened. “You don’t want to? Before, to fight for territory, you led the charge, how many scars did you get, how long were you unconscious? Why didn’t you say ‘no’ then?” Alpha Arthur Hayes chimed in, his tone mocking: “Exactly. Back then, when you were carried back gravely wounded, we thought you were done for. Now, for the continuation of the bloodline, we ask you to say a few words of blessing, and you’re unwilling?” All these years, one of them, though weak in character, tried to maintain an Alpha image, while the other, though weak in strength, still projected an Alpha’s authority. Tasks that required risking one’s life to defend the Pack naturally fell to me. Six days left, I counted in my mind. Then, I took the wine glass Jason had practically shoved against my mouth, and turned to Rebecca. Her face held an ill-concealed triumph. I raised the glass, speaking each word clearly. “I wish you, may all your wishes come true.”

That night, faint sounds came from the next room. I lay in bed, staring into the darkness. The subtle noises, like sharp stings, pierced my ears again and again. Rebecca’s delicate laughter, Jason’s low responses, and the faint creak of the mattress. But even sharper was the blurred sensation transmitted through the Mate Bond—ripples of pleasure, the intertwining of their scents. The spot where Jason had left his Mark began to burn with excruciating pain. I clutched the sheets, my nails digging into my palms. A sharp agony erupted from the depths of my soul, instantly spreading through my limbs. My Alpha, my Mate, was at this moment, in my house, next door, entwined with another woman. I rushed into the bathroom, dry-heaving, but nothing came up. In this vast mansion, they were just a wall away. I grabbed my jacket and drove to the lakeside villa. It was a home my mother had left me. I wasn’t sure if this distance would stop the pain from the Mate Bond, but at least here, I wouldn’t feel sickened by their affair. Sitting by the cold lake, the night wind made me shiver, but it brought a slight relief to the burning in my chest. I felt a little dazed. Once, if I merely turned over in bed, Jason would immediately wake up, pull me into his arms, and ask, “What’s wrong? Had a nightmare?” If I said I couldn’t sleep, he would get up to warm me a glass of milk, or simply chat with me until I felt sleepy again. I also remember the year my mother first died, my wolf soul was often restless. He would wrap me in his scent, patiently comforting me. He truly loved me then. But that love had still vanished. Perhaps I was too busy, too busy to respond to his every approach. I remember the last time Jason and I argued. It was when I had worked for several days straight on a project and missed a long-planned trip. He lashed out at me for the first time, calling me a cold-blooded work machine, saying I only cared about work, didn’t need a partner, and wasn’t worthy of being his Mate. I was somewhat bewildered then. I was just trying to make things better for them, to make our two Packs stronger, just like my mother did. What was wrong with that? Isn’t that what a competent Luna does? Supporting two Packs was busy and exhausting. Everything left no room for me to overthink. By the time I came back to my senses, everything had become like this. My phone vibrated; it was a message from Jason: “My father and I took Rebecca on vacation to relax. Transfer six million over to me.” I replied “Okay,” as I always had. Then I messaged Sarah Jenkins, the financial assistant for the company, giving them unlimited spending authority. Since I would no longer be the company’s manager, whether they spent all the money was no longer my concern. The night wind was cool. I hugged myself. From now on, I would only live for myself.

I stayed at the lakeside villa for a few days. Jason didn’t call once. Only Sarah Jenkins, the financial assistant, called me cautiously. “Luna Ava, Alpha Jason… their spending at the Kingdom’s overseas resort has already exceeded ten million. If this continues, the company’s cash flow will be cut off.” That resort was the Alpha King’s property. They wouldn’t dare default, so they had to use company money to cover it. This was the Alpha I’d been loyal to for years. Stupid, incompetent. I leaned against the headboard, looking out at the gray lake. “Let them be.” Sarah Jenkins on the other end grew anxious: “But Luna Ava, the first payment for the southern project is due soon. If that money is touched, we’ll default on the contract! According to the rules, we might lose the mining rights to that territory!” “Do Alpha Jason and Alpha Arthur Hayes know about this?” Sarah Jenkins spoke with difficulty: “They said it’s fine, that with you around, you’ll take care of it.” I chuckled softly: “Then let them default.” I hung up the phone and started packing. Today marked the seventh anniversary of my mother’s death. It was also the last day of my promise. I bought a bouquet of white roses, my mother’s favorite, and went to the cemetery on the west side—the traditional family burial ground of the Silverfang Pack. But standing before that familiar headstone, I froze. The photo on the headstone was unfamiliar. The name carved on the epitaph was Lillian Wright. Rebecca’s biological mother. All the blood in my veins instantly solidified. Behind me, I heard Jason and Rebecca’s laughter. “Ava, you’re here so early.” Jason carefully pushed Rebecca’s wheelchair, afraid of even the slightest bump. I pointed at the cold stone tablet, my voice trembling. “Where’s my mother?” Jason frowned, seemingly displeased with my attitude. “Ava, keep your voice down, don’t scare Becca.” He shielded Rebecca behind him before slowly explaining: “Becca dreamed a few days ago that Lillian said she was lonely on her own there.” “I had someone check, and your mother’s grave site has good feng shui and energy, so I had Lillian moved here. After all, your mother has been gone for so many years.” Alpha Arthur Hayes followed behind, his expression one of complete justification. “Your mother never liked these formalities when she was alive. A grave is a grave, it’s all the same. Now it’s perfect, giving it to Lillian gives her a good final resting place.” I looked at the three of them as if watching an utterly absurd scene. “So where is my mother?” I asked, enunciating each word. “Her ashes have been moved to the public cemetery in the back,” Jason said dismissively. “Don’t worry, I arranged everything, your mother won’t be without a place.” Rebecca peeked out from behind him, timidly saying, “Ava, don’t be angry. My mom is also your elder, and now she’s my baby’s grandmother. She’s part of both our Silverfang Pack and the Stoneclaw Pack. Taking care of her fulfills your mother’s last wish.” “That’s right, Ava.” My father, Alpha Arthur Hayes, tapped his cane on the ground. “You promised your mother you’d protect both the Silverfang and Stoneclaw Packs. Now Lillian is part of our family too; you can’t play favorites.” They used the promise I had upheld for seven years to force me to accept this outrageous act. I looked at the unfamiliar headstone for a long time, and then, suddenly, I laughed. I didn’t argue with them anymore. I turned and walked towards the public cemetery in the back. Following the administrator’s directions, I found my mother’s small niche, so small that her name hadn’t even been carved on it yet. I cradled the cold urn and walked out. As I passed them, I didn’t stop. Jason probably thought I had finally given in. His tone softened. “Ava, stop acting like a child. Come home tonight, we’ll have a nice family dinner.” “Becca even brought you a gift.” What a grand blessing. I walked faster. Leaving their sickening voices behind. I placed the signed divorce papers on the bedside table in the master bedroom. Ensuring that I had no further legal ties to the Silverfang and Stoneclaw Packs. Then I returned to my grandfather’s—the Alpha King’s—territory. They didn’t know that my grandfather had disowned my mother because she insisted on marrying my father. But he adored me. He promised me that if I was willing to cut ties with them, he would appoint me as the Alpha Female of the powerful Moonshadow Pack. This meant I would become the only female Alpha in the Kingdom. … Back home, Jason suddenly felt uneasy. He frowned and asked Alpha Arthur Hayes: “Father, isn’t today Ava’s mother’s death anniversary?” Alpha Arthur Hayes replied indifferently: “It’s just missing one memorial. I’ll have the servants make it up tomorrow.” But just then, David Lee rushed in. “Alpha Jason, Alpha Arthur, it’s bad! The company’s cash flow is gone, and a dozen projects have all defaulted!” “Our partners on the projects have all sent notices, saying if we can’t produce the money, they’ll take Pack territory in exchange!” Alpha Arthur Hayes frowned and yelled: “Where’s Ava! Tell her to get over here and deal with this immediately!” David Lee cried urgently: “Luna left a message and then became unreachable.” Jason grew even more uneasy: “What did Ava say?” “Ava said, Your problems are no longer my problems!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “385536”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

With a hand that once wielded a scalpel, I saved Nathan’s life. In five years, he turned me from his wife into a shell of my former self. On the anniversary of my brother Ryan’s passing, he brought his new lover home. I knelt on broken glass, slapping myself, begging him for money to save my parents. All I got was a check that bought out my dignity. It was too late. Unable to afford medical bills, my parents died tragically in a foreign country. When the fire consumed everything in the villa, I finally understood. Loving him was the greatest surgical error of my life. Later, he went blind, became a wreck, and knelt, begging me to come back. I walked past him in my heels, not even blinking. The Alicia who died in that fire was the one who loved him. The one who survived would never look back. Alicia POV Nathan Harrison didn’t come home on the fifth anniversary of my brother Ryan’s death. I sat in the empty dining room of the villa, staring at the dinner that had long since grown cold on the table. The wall clock ticked, its hands already past midnight. I didn’t call him frantically like I used to, nor did I hysterically smash things. I just sat there quietly, like a puppet drained of its soul, my breaths barely audible. Until the sound of the password lock unlocking echoed from the main door. Nathan walked in, carrying the chill of late autumn. His impeccably tailored black bespoke suit accentuated his tall figure, and his eyes were deep. But those eyes, which once held only me, were now filled with fatigue and impatience. Seeing me sitting in the darkness, he frowned, loosening his tie. “Why aren’t you in bed yet? Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t be back tonight? The company has an urgent PR crisis to handle.” I lifted my gaze, my eyes settling on the woman behind him. She stood there, dressed in a sharp white professional suit, wearing seven-centimeter heels. Her red lips were striking, and her eyes held an undisguised sharpness and arrogance. That was Seraphina, Nathan’s highly-paid Chief PR, and now his most capable right-hand woman. “Today is Ryan’s death anniversary,” my voice was barely a whisper, hoarse as if scraped over sandpaper. Nathan’s hand, unbuttoning his shirt, froze. A flicker of quick annoyance crossed his eyes, but it was swiftly masked by righteous indifference. He walked over, habitually trying to appease me with his condescending manner. “I apologize. The PR department was busy suppressing several damaging trending scandals tonight. It completely slipped my mind. Tomorrow, I’ll have my assistant buy more flowers to send over. Be a good girl, don’t throw a tantrum.” “Don’t throw a tantrum?” I forced a smile, one uglier than a cry. How Nathan used to dote on me. Five years ago, I was the brightest genius surgeon in the medical world. To save Nathan, who was trapped in the driver’s seat during a multi-car pileup, my right hand was completely crushed by the twisted car door, making it impossible for me to ever hold a scalpel again. Back then, Nathan knelt by my hospital bed, his eyes red, kissing my bandaged hand. He swore he would cherish me like a rare treasure for the rest of his life. He built this all-glass conservatory villa for me, hired top chefs and staff, and even personally fed me water. With a nearly pathological possessiveness, he clipped my wings, turning me into a canary dependent solely on him. But now, he found this canary too quiet, too boring, too unreasonable. “Nathan’s time is worth millions a minute. Him taking the time to stand here and explain to you is already a huge concession,” Seraphina suddenly interjected. She stepped forward, her gaze critically sweeping over my faded loungewear, a smirk playing on her lips. “Alicia, people can’t always live in the past.” “You spend every day in this mansion, shielded from the elements, never facing media cameras or internet trolls. Of course, you have plenty of time to wallow in self-pity.” “But Nathan can’t. He has tens of thousands of employees waiting to be paid. The PR department saved billions in market value tonight. That’s what truly matters.” Seraphina paused, her eyes growing even more contemptuous. “Since you’re already useless and can’t help him, you should at least learn to keep your mouth shut and stop being a stumbling block on his path to success.” The word “useless” pierced my heart like a sharp knife. I instinctively hid my right hand, covered in grotesque scars, behind my back, trembling all over. I looked at Nathan, hoping he would, as he used to, throw out anyone who dared to speak ill of me. But Nathan didn’t. Not only did he not get angry, but he even gave Seraphina an appreciative look. Then he turned to me, his tone condescending. “What Seraphina said is harsh, but it’s true. Alicia, you truly are out of touch. What else do you do every day besides watching for when I come home? Can’t you be a little more mature, a little more independent, like Seraphina?” I felt as if I’d been struck by lightning. Turns out, he didn’t just forget the anniversary; he truly had changed his heart. He had fallen for Seraphina, who could fight alongside him in the arena of fame and fortune, resolving all his public image storms. And he had grown weary of me, whose wings he had personally clipped and caged. I suddenly felt utterly disgusted. I took a deep breath, suppressing the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat, and calmly looked at him. “Nathan, let’s get a divorce.” Nathan paused, then let out a cold laugh. In these five years, due to my insecurity, I had brought up divorce countless times. Every time he neglected me even slightly, I would use this tactic to make him back down. He must have grown used to it, and annoyed by it, by now. “Fine,” Nathan didn’t even bother to humor me anymore. He took off his suit jacket and tossed it on the sofa, his tone dismissive. “Draft the agreement however you want. My lawyer will sort out the assets; you won’t be treated unfairly. But I’m tired tonight, and I don’t have time to play these hysterical games with you.” With that, he turned to Seraphina, his voice instantly softening. “The guest room is upstairs, first left. It’s too late tonight, so you can rest here. We’ll head to the company together tomorrow morning for the press conference.” They walked up the stairs side by side, their backs a perfect match. I stood there, neither crying nor making a scene. I just felt a painful dryness in my eyes. I took out my phone and dialed my lawyer. “Lawyer, please draft a divorce agreement for me. I want nothing. Just the quickest possible signing.” The lawyer on the other end was stunned. “Alicia, are you sure? Before, you always demanded an additional clause that Nathan had to spend two hours with you every day.” “No need,” I interrupted him, my voice as cold as ice. “Just one, and the sooner, the better.” Because this time, I was truly leaving.

Nathan POV I came out of the shower and habitually headed for the master bedroom. Pushing the door open, I found it empty. The bed was neatly made, without a trace of warmth. I frowned, a strange feeling flickering within me. Whenever we argued before, Alicia would wrap herself in a blanket and cry silently, waiting for me to hold her, to comfort her. Her injured hand would ache on rainy days, and she couldn’t sleep without my soothing presence. But tonight, she wasn’t there. I irritably rubbed my temples, then went to the study. I thought Alicia might be waiting there for me to console her, but pushing that door open, it was also empty. I scoffed, thinking Alicia’s playing mind games had gone a bit too far this time. Too lazy to search further, I lay down directly on the study sofa. Anyway, in less than three days, she would come back to me like a stray dog that couldn’t live without me, wagging her tail. How could a useless woman who couldn’t even hold a scalpel survive without me? The next morning, I was woken by the piercing sound of an electric drill downstairs. I immediately rushed down and pushed open the door to the storage room on the first floor. The scene inside made my pupils contract sharply. The floor was covered in blood and broken glass, a truly horrifying sight. Seraphina stood there, pale-faced, while Alicia lay in a pool of blood. I didn’t hesitate, stepping over Alicia on the floor, and pulled Seraphina into my arms. “What happened? Are you hurt?” I anxiously scrutinized Seraphina. Seraphina immediately put on a wronged expression, her eyes slightly red. “Nathan, I just wanted to help you clear out the storage room to make it a media room. A big news story is about to break.” “I didn’t know that old tape recorder was so important to Alicia. She suddenly rushed at me, trying to hit me. In a moment of fear, I pushed her in self-defense… I really didn’t mean to.” My face instantly darkened. I turned, looking down at Alicia, who was lying in a pool of blood, desperately trying to piece together shattered tape. My eyes were filled with disgust and disappointment. “Alicia, haven’t you caused enough trouble?!” I roared, “Seraphina is a key asset to the company. She pulled several all-nighters to suppress negative news.” “What’s wrong with me asking her to turn this into a workspace? Not only do you show no consideration, but you act like a madwoman and resort to violence! Look at you now, so hysterical. Where’s the decorum befitting high society?” Alicia froze. She slowly raised her head, looking at me. Blood dripped from her fingertips onto the floor, a gruesome sight. But in my eyes, there was only Seraphina’s fright. “She smashed Ryan’s belongings,” Alicia’s voice was as light as a breeze, yet filled with bone-chilling despair. “Nathan, that was Ryan’s last voice, the last thing he left me.” I paused, my gaze sweeping over the pile of junk on the floor, a flicker of irritation in my eyes. “It’s just a broken tape recorder, isn’t it? If it’s broken, it’s broken. I’ll have someone buy you a hundred new ones tomorrow! Is it really worth all this trouble, making a mess of the house and hurting Seraphina, over such a trivial thing?” “A hundred new ones,” Alicia suddenly laughed, tears streaming down her face. She swayed, rising to her feet, her right hand still bleeding profusely. She looked at me, the last flicker of light in her eyes extinguished completely. “Nathan, you’re disgusting.”

Alicia POV I was sent to the hospital. The wound on my right hand was deep; glass fragments had severed the nerves that had just begun to heal. The doctor sighed repeatedly as he stitched me up. “Alicia, this hand of yours was already severely traumatized. Now, with such an injury, you’ll struggle even to hold heavy objects in the future, let alone perform delicate movements. Why don’t you take better care of yourself?” I stared at the ceiling. The anesthetic dulled the pain, leaving only a deep numbness. “It doesn’t matter,” I murmured. “Anyway, I won’t be needing it anymore.” After the stitches were done, I sat alone in the hospital room. No family, no one to stay with me. Until that afternoon, the door to the room opened. It wasn’t Nathan who walked in, but Seraphina. She was dressed in a black designer gown, her makeup flawless. She carried a fruit basket, walking to my bedside like a victor. “Alicia, does your hand still hurt?” Seraphina casually placed the fruit basket on the bedside table, a hypocritical smile on her lips. “Nathan was going to come see you, but the company had an impromptu media appreciation event, and he couldn’t get away. So he asked me to check on you for him.” I closed my eyes, too weary to even glance at her. “Get out.” Seraphina didn’t get angry. Instead, she pulled up a chair and sat down, meticulously smoothing her skirt. “Alicia, I actually feel sorry for you. You ruined your hand for Nathan, thinking that would tie him to you for life. But you forgot, men are always drawn to strength. Nathan is an eagle. He needs someone who can face media cameras with him, who can battle it out in the public arena. Not a broken bird that just sits in a cage and weeps.” I snapped my eyes open, staring coldly at her. Seraphina flinched under my icy gaze but quickly regained her arrogance. “Nathan said you’ve been home for too long these past few years, completely out of touch with society, which is why you’ve become so sensitive and hysterical. To help ‘cure’ you, he’s decided to have you attend the Harrison Group’s charity gala tonight.” My brows furrowed. “I won’t go.” “That’s not up to you,” Seraphina chuckled, leaning closer to my ear. “Nathan said if you don’t show up tonight, he’ll immediately cut off all funding for your parents’ care at the Swiss sanatorium, including the life-support ventilator. You know he always means what he says.” I shuddered, my hands gripping the bedsheet tightly. Nathan, he was actually threatening me with my parents’ lives! That evening, I was forcibly taken to the Harrison Group’s gala by bodyguards. I wasn’t seated at the main table, nor was a gown prepared for me. Seraphina tossed me a server’s uniform, pointing to the beverage area in the corner of the ballroom. “Nathan said that since you need to re-integrate into society, you should start with basic service. Tonight, you’re responsible for serving drinks to the VIP guests. This is also part of a PR strategy, to showcase the Harrison family’s humble side.” I looked at the cheap uniform, then at my right hand, wrapped in thick bandages. I used to be a genius who gave speeches at international medical forums. Now, I was being forced to serve drinks here. This was Nathan’s “punishment” for me. I didn’t resist. I numbly changed into the uniform and picked up the heavy tray. The weight of the tray pressed down on my injured right hand. With every step, the wound felt like it was tearing open, and cold sweat broke out in layers. The ballroom glittered with well-dressed guests, buzzing with conversation. Nathan stood in the center of the crowd, impeccably handsome in his bespoke suit. Seraphina held his arm, smiling brightly, effortlessly engaging with various media outlets and business moguls, a perfect match. Many guests who once knew me recognized me, casting shocked and disdainful glances my way. “Isn’t that Alicia? The former genius surgeon, how did she end up serving drinks?” “I heard she ruined her hand for Nathan. He supported her for a few years, but now he’s probably tired of her.” “How pathetic. Look at her poor state; she can’t even compare to a single finger of Seraphina, who is the Harrison Group’s PR Queen.” Those whispers were like poisoned darts, piercing my ears relentlessly. I clenched my teeth, desperately trying to control the trembling in my right hand as I carried the wine glasses towards the VIP section. Just as I passed Seraphina, she suddenly stuck out her foot. I was already struggling to walk and had no time to dodge. I stumbled forward, crashing down. The massive champagne tower was knocked over by me. Hundreds of glasses shattered instantly, and expensive wine splashed all over me. I fell heavily onto the floor covered in broken glass. My already injured right hand was severely re-pierced by the glass, and blood immediately stained my white uniform. The entire hall fell silent. Countless media flashes instantly lit up, frantically capturing this humiliating scene. All eyes were on me, as if I were a ridiculous clown.

Alicia POV “Ah!” Seraphina gasped, dramatically taking two steps back. She frowned, looking at the splashes of wine on her skirt. “Alicia, even if you have a problem with me, there’s no need to intentionally cause trouble in front of so many media, is there? Do you have any idea how much negative impact this will have on the company’s public image?” Nathan’s face instantly darkened to an extreme. He strode over, not even glancing at me, trembling and lying in a pool of blood. His first action was to take off his jacket and drape it over Seraphina, shielding her from the media’s cameras, asking nervously, “Are you hurt anywhere?” Seraphina shook her head, biting her lower lip with a wronged expression. “I’m fine, but it’s a shame about this dress you custom-ordered for me. Tomorrow’s headlines probably won’t look good.” Nathan turned, his gaze like a knife, cutting into me. “Alicia, how long are you going to be insane?!” His voice was laced with extreme suppressed fury. “I brought you here to learn how to be a normal person, not to make a spectacle of yourself! Apologize to Seraphina immediately! Apologize to the media present!” I lay on the glass-strewn floor, my right hand already numb with pain. I slowly lifted my head, my pale face devoid of color. I stared intently at Nathan. “I didn’t intentionally cause trouble; she tripped me,” my voice was weak, yet unusually firm. “Enough!” Nathan cut me off sharply. “What is Seraphina’s position? She’s the Harrison Group’s Chief PR. Does she need to resort to such despicable methods to deal with you? Look at you now, full of lies, consumed by jealousy! I’m so disappointed in you!” Disappointed? I let out a bitter laugh. I had given him my life, and all I got in return was his disappointment. “Since you refuse to apologize, then clean this mess up,” Nathan gave the cruel order. “Use your hands to pick up every single piece of broken glass. If you don’t finish, you’re not allowed to go home tonight.” The surrounding guests gasped. Making a bleeding person with a severely traumatized hand pick up broken glass was nothing short of torture. But no one dared to plead for me. I looked at Nathan’s cold, merciless face and suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity. Was this really the man who once knelt, kissed my scars, and vowed to protect me for a lifetime? I didn’t cry, nor did I beg for mercy. I simply lowered my head, extended my blood-soaked right hand, and began picking up a piece of broken glass from the floor. The sharp edge cut my skin again, and blood dripped onto the clean marble floor. One piece, two pieces, three pieces… Nathan instinctively wanted to step forward and stop me, but Seraphina gently tugged at his sleeve at that moment. “Nathan, I feel so dizzy. I might have been startled. My panic attack is acting up again, and the media are still filming.” Nathan’s attention was instantly diverted. He scooped Seraphina into his arms, casting a cold glance at me. “You stay here and reflect properly!” With that, escorted by bodyguards, he carried Seraphina and left the ballroom without looking back. I heard his receding footsteps, but my hands didn’t stop. Until excessive blood loss and intense pain completely overwhelmed my consciousness, my vision went black, and I collapsed heavily into the pile of broken glass. When I woke again, I found myself back in a hospital bed. The room was empty, save for an expensive designer bag on the bedside table and a note left by Nathan. “The bag is your compensation. I was impulsive last night, but you’re also at fault. I’ll be with Seraphina in New York for the next few days to handle an urgent PR crisis. Recover well in the hospital, and don’t cause any more trouble.” I looked at the note, my eyes calm as a still pool of water. I didn’t tear the note, nor did I throw the bag away. I simply pressed the call button and summoned a nurse. “Please throw this bag in the trash, thank you.” The nurse looked shocked. “Alicia, this is a limited edition, worth tens of thousands of dollars! Mr. Harrison’s face was terrifyingly pale when he brought you in; he waited outside the ER the whole time. If Seraphina hadn’t had a sudden panic attack and needed the emergency room, he definitely wouldn’t have left. He still cares about you…” “Just throw it away. It’s dirty.” I closed my eyes, cutting off the nurse. I took out my phone and opened Instagram. The first post was Seraphina’s, half an hour ago. In the photo, Seraphina reclined in a first-class airplane seat, holding a glass of champagne. In the background was Nathan’s profile, looking at documents. The caption: “Even a small fright means someone is willing to drop everything and fly halfway across the globe to clear my mind. It feels good to be loved.” I scrolled past the post expressionlessly, then dialed my lawyer. “Lawyer, is the divorce agreement ready? Send it to me; I’ll sign it.”

Alicia POV I didn’t stay long at the hospital. My right hand was re-bandaged. The doctor warned me that if I injured it again, the hand would truly need to be amputated. I merely nodded faintly and completed the discharge procedures. I didn’t return to that glass villa, which felt like a prison. Instead, I took a taxi to the cemetery, where my brother Ryan rested. By the time I left the cemetery, dusk had fallen. A fine, bone-chilling rain began to fall. I stood by the roadside waiting for a car when a black, unmarked van suddenly screeched to a halt in front of me. The door slid open with a whoosh, and two burly men in ski masks rushed out. Before I could react, one delivered a chop to the back of my neck. My vision went black, and I completely lost consciousness. I don’t know how much time passed, but I was woken by a bucket of ice water. The biting cold made me shiver violently. I opened my eyes to find myself tied to a rusty metal chair in an abandoned factory. The air was heavy with the smell of machine oil and decay. “Awake?” A man with a scar across his face walked up to me, toying with a sharp dagger. “Alicia, long time no see.” I forced myself to calm down. “Who are you people? If it’s money you want, name your price.” “Money? I want blood!” Axel suddenly grabbed my hair, snarling. “Nathan, that bastard. He had his PR department spread rumors that my products were toxic. Drove me to bankruptcy.” “My wife jumped with our child. He destroyed my whole family. Now I’ll make him taste losing his loved ones too.” I gave a bitter smile, finding it ironic. “Then you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not his loved one; Seraphina is.” “Cut the crap! Who in New York doesn’t know Nathan protects you fiercely!” Axel didn’t believe me. He pulled out his phone and started a video call with Nathan. The phone rang for a long time before it was answered. Nathan’s stern face appeared on the screen; the background seemed to be a high-end conference room in New York. “Nathan, look who this is.” Axel aimed the camera at me. On the other end of the screen, Nathan’s pupils contracted sharply. He abruptly stood up. “Alicia! What do you want? Don’t touch her!” “Feeling sorry for her?” Axel burst into manic laughter. “Nathan, you’ve got it coming! Listen, I want you to immediately issue a public apology through the Harrison Group’s official account, admitting that your PR department maliciously smeared my company! You have ten minutes, otherwise, I’ll make your wife suffer slowly, bit by bit!” Nathan’s face instantly turned ashen. I knew what he was thinking. If he issued such an apology, the Harrison Group’s reputation would be completely ruined, its stock price would suffer a devastating blow, and it could even face massive breach of contract penalties and legal lawsuits. “Calm down. I can give you money, whatever amount you want. But that statement is impossible,” Nathan said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want money!” Axel roared, and the dagger in his hand plunged into my thigh. I let out a muffled groan, biting my lip hard to suppress any sound. Blood immediately stained my pants. “Alicia!” Nathan’s eyes were bloodshot, his hands gripping the table, veins bulging on the back of his hands. We had years of history. He couldn’t possibly let me die. It looked like he was about to compromise. However, just as he was about to speak, Seraphina suddenly burst into the frame. I closed my eyes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “385535”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I’d been Liam’s secret girlfriend for seven years, even carrying his child, only to hear he was proposing to his first love. For a fake scratch on her arm, he shoved me, sending me crashing into the corner of a table. I lost our baby, and almost bled to death. He slapped me, his voice chilling. “You’re a truly wicked woman. I must have been blind to ever love you.” Later, swayed by his first love’s lies, he drove my mother to her death and let my brother suffer such severe bullying that he jumped from the school building. And I was locked in a mansion, consumed by a raging inferno. Everyone thought I was dead. Until three years later, I returned with a new identity, arm-in-arm with my fiancé. He knelt in the pouring rain, begging for my forgiveness, offering me his life and his entire fortune. I barely glanced at him, then turned and took my fiancé’s hand. “Mr. Maxwell, your life or death means nothing to me.” SUMMER’S POV I was backstage at Maxwell Group’s 10th Anniversary Gala, in the lounge. I was half-kneeling, meticulously smoothing the wrinkles from Liam Maxwell’s suit hem. This custom-tailored suit? I’d spent three sleepless nights hand-stitching it for him. Liam looked down at me, his deep eyes filled with tenderness. He reached out, gently cupped my chin. His thumb brushed over my lips, his voice low and husky. “I’m skipping the celebration party tonight. Wait for me at the apartment, okay?” My cheeks flushed, and I nodded obediently. I instinctively touched the thin paper in my pocket. The pregnancy test results I’d gotten this morning. Seven years. I’d been Liam’s secret girlfriend, hidden from the world, for seven long years. Today, I could finally claim my rightful place in his life and build a family with him. “Mr. Maxwell, everything’s ready. It’s time for your speech.” Adam, his assistant, respectfully urged from outside the door. Liam leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on my forehead. “Be a good girl and wait for me.” Watching his tall figure disappear behind the door, my heart swelled with sweetness. I walked to the corner where a broadcast screen was set up, watching the radiant man on stage. Liam stood under the spotlight, delivering his speech calmly. The room below was packed with business elites and media reporters. As his speech neared its end, the host joked, “Billionaire Mr. Liam, the rumors say you’ve been single for seven years, a true workaholic. With the joy of our 10th anniversary, perhaps you could share a little about your personal life?” It was meant to be a lighthearted joke to lighten the mood. But Liam on the screen suddenly fell silent. His intense gaze swept past the sea of faces, landing precisely on the VIP seat in the very front row. His usually stern lips softened, curving into an incredibly tender smile. “It’s true, I’ve been single for seven years,” Liam said into the microphone, his voice deep and firm, echoing through the entire hall. “Because I’ve been waiting for someone.” Backstage, I froze, my heart pounding uncontrollably. What was he saying? Single? Wasn’t I his girlfriend? “For these past seven years, I’ve longed for her return every single moment. Fortunately, I finally found her.” Liam snapped his fingers. The lights plunged into darkness, save for a single spotlight that dramatically illuminated the woman in the white haute couture gown in the front row. The woman slowly stood up, turning her head to reveal a pure and radiant face. It was Scarlett Davis. Liam’s high school classmate and his passionate first love. “Scarlett, welcome home.” Liam walked off the stage. Under the shocked gazes of the entire audience, he knelt before Scarlett, pulling a dazzling, ‘pigeon-egg’ sized diamond ring from his pocket. “Will you marry me?” Scarlett covered her mouth, tears of joy streaming down her face, and nodded emphatically. Thunderous applause erupted, flashbulbs exploded, capturing the romantic scene of this once-in-a-lifetime proposal. But backstage, I felt all the blood in my body turn to ice. I stared at the screen in disbelief, my fingertips digging into my palms, my body trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind. How could this be…? Memories of the past seven years flashed wildly through my mind. He refused to post about me on social media, refused to introduce me to any family or friends. Every time I brought up making our relationship public, he would hold me, soothing me with a helpless tone. “Summer, my circle is too complicated. I don’t want those people bothering you. I want to keep you safe.” I believed him. I thought it was deep love, protection. Turns out, he was just biding his time, waiting for another woman’s return.

SUMMER’S POV The gala ended, and the backstage area gradually emptied. The lounge door opened, and Liam walked in, loosening his tie, a lingering smile still on his face. Seeing me standing in the shadows, he paused, then his brow furrowed, returning to his usual cold demeanor. “You saw it all,” he said calmly, as if discussing something trivial. I stared at him, my eyes red, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “Liam, what about me? What was I to you?” Liam walked to the sofa and sat down, pouring himself a glass of water. “Summer, I was going to tell you this tomorrow. Scarlett is back, and I’m going to marry her.” “What about my seven years?!” I couldn’t control myself anymore, screaming hysterically. Liam put down his glass, his eyes turning cold. “Don’t make a scene. Even after I get married, nothing between us has to change. I’ll buy you a house in the upscale neighborhood, complete with a driver and housekeeper. As long as you don’t bother Scarlett, you can buy whatever you want; you can use my credit card as much as you like.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, staring in disbelief at the man I had loved for seven years. “You want me to be your kept woman?” Liam’s frown deepened, seemingly displeased by the term. “With me around, no one would dare say that to you. Scarlett’s health is fragile; she can’t handle any stress. Be sensible.” I suddenly laughed, tears streaming down my face. I reached into my pocket, feeling the crumpled pregnancy test results. “Liam, you disgust me.” The air in the lounge seemed to solidify. Liam’s face instantly darkened. He shot up, grabbing my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like my bones would shatter. “Summer Miller, have I indulged you too much, made you forget your place?” I gasped in pain, but stubbornly lifted my chin, biting my lip to keep from begging. Just then, the sound of heels approached from outside the door. “Liam, are you in there?” Scarlett’s sickly sweet voice floated in. Liam’s expression shifted. He immediately let go of me, giving me a warning glare. “Keep your mouth shut.” The door pushed open, and Scarlett walked in, adjusting her dress. Seeing me, she feigned surprise, covering her mouth. “Oh, my, who is she?” “Backstage staff,” Liam lied without a flicker of expression, pulling Scarlett into his arms. His voice instantly became incredibly gentle. “Why didn’t you wait in the car? It’s chaotic backstage, don’t trip.” Scarlett leaned into his embrace compliantly, but her gaze flickered over his shoulder, landing on my pale face with a triumphant smirk. “This young lady doesn’t look well, is she sick?” Scarlett’s lips curved into a malicious smile. My stomach churned, and I couldn’t stand another second. I turned and stumbled out of the lounge. Returning to the apartment we’d shared for five years, I moved like a ghost, mechanically pulling out a suitcase and starting to pack. Everywhere were traces of our life together. Our matching coffee mugs, the sofa we’d picked out together, his razor still in the bathroom… Each item now felt like a knife twisting in my heart. I didn’t take anything but a few of my old clothes and my identification documents. The next morning, as I was about to leave with my suitcase, the apartment door lock suddenly turned. It wasn’t Liam who entered, but Scarlett. She strutted in on ten-centimeter heels, like a victor surveying the apartment, finally letting her gaze fall on my suitcase, and let out a sneer. “Glad you know your place and when to leave.”

SUMMER’S POV I looked at her coldly. “How did you get in?” “Liam gave me the code, of course,” Scarlett said, walking to the sofa and sitting down, playing with her freshly manicured nails. “Summer Miller, you don’t actually believe Liam loves you, do you? You were just a placeholder, a plaything to keep him amused when I wasn’t around.” I clenched my fists. “Are you done? If so, get out.” Scarlett’s face changed. She shot up and walked toward me. “How dare you speak to me like that? Do you think I can’t ruin you in this city with a single word?” “That’s your problem. Move!” I didn’t want to argue with her. I grabbed my suitcase, ready to leave. But Scarlett grabbed my arm, her eyes suddenly turning wild. “You think you can just walk away? Not so fast!” She suddenly picked up a fruit knife from the coffee table and, without hesitation, slashed a long cut on her forearm. Blood instantly welled up. I was stunned. “Are you insane?!” Just then, the apartment door opened again. Liam strode in. “It hurts! Liam, save me!” Scarlett immediately dropped the knife, clutching her bleeding arm, and collapsed to the floor, sobbing dramatically. Liam’s eyes blazed with fury at the sight. He rushed over, shoving me aside. “Summer Miller, you’re dead!” Liam shoved me with all his might. Already weak, I lost my balance and fell backward with a heavy thud. Thud! My lower abdomen slammed violently into the sharp corner of the marble coffee table before I hit the floor. A searing, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen, as if something was being forcefully ripped from my body. “It hurts so much…” I curled up on the floor, cold sweat instantly soaking my clothes. I felt a warm liquid trickle down my thighs, staining the white carpet red. “Liam… the baby… save our baby…” I trembled, reaching out, trying to grab Liam’s pant leg. But Liam didn’t even spare me a glance. His eyes were fixed on the wound on Scarlett’s arm. He carefully scooped Scarlett into his arms, his voice trembling. “Scarlett, don’t be scared, I’ll take you to the hospital right away!” He carried Scarlett, stepping right over my body, and rushed out the door. “Liam…” I stared desperately at the door as it slammed shut, my vision gradually blurring. More and more blood flowed from beneath me, like blooming red roses. I completely succumbed to the darkness. The hospital, the harsh smell of disinfectant. When I woke up, the room was empty, only the stark white fluorescent light above pricking my eyes. A nurse came in to change my IV, and seeing my eyes open, she sighed. “You’re awake. The kind person who brought you in has left. Summer Miller, you must be strong. The baby didn’t make it. You hit too hard, and your uterus was severely damaged. In the future… it will likely be very difficult for you to have children.” The nurse’s words struck me like a thunderbolt, shattering me to pieces. I stared blankly at the ceiling, not crying, not screaming, just feeling as though my entire heart had been hollowed out, every breath tasting like blood. Seven years of my youth, exchanged for a dead child and a broken body. I reached for my phone on the bedside table. The screen was clean. Liam hadn’t called, hadn’t sent a single message. I tapped open our chat on Snapchat, my fingers trembling as I typed a single sentence: “It’s over.”

SUMMER’S POV After sending the message, I immediately blocked Liam’s number and all his contact information. After three days in the hospital, I discharged myself against the doctor’s advice. I couldn’t collapse. I’m a fashion designer, and next month is the final round of the “Golden Apex Award,” the industry’s highest honor. My collection, ‘Phoenix Rising,’ which I’d poured my heart and soul into for three years, was my only chance at a comeback. If I won the Golden Apex Award, I could secure top-tier funding, launch my own independent brand, and completely break free from my past. I dragged my weak body back to my studio, opened my laptop, and logged onto the Golden Apex Award’s official website to check the finalists’ list. However, the moment the page loaded, my blood ran cold. The very first entry on the list prominently featured my signature design. But the name beneath the artwork wasn’t Summer Miller. It was Scarlett! My mind went blank, and all the blood rushed to my head. I frantically searched for my design drafts, locked in the safe. It’s empty! Completely empty! The only other person who knew the safe’s combination was Liam! My eyes burned with fury. I hailed a taxi and sped straight to Maxwell Group Headquarters. Ignoring the security guards’ attempts to stop me, I stormed up to the top floor and kicked open Liam’s office door. Liam was sitting behind his large desk, reviewing files. Seeing me burst in, his brow furrowed, and he waved away the security guards who were about to intervene. “Are you done making a scene?” Liam’s voice was impatient. “Blocking me, and now running to the office to cause chaos. Summer Miller, your tactics are getting desperate.” I rushed to his desk, bracing my hands on the surface, my voice raw, like sandpaper. “Why did you give my ‘Phoenix Rising’ designs to Scarlett?!” Liam paused, his hand still on the files, then looked up, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “Scarlett just returned to the country, preparing to enter the fashion industry. She needs a prestigious award to make a name for herself.” He spoke flatly, as if he’d merely taken a piece of my clothing, not three years of my life’s work. “That’s my work! I spent countless nights drawing those designs!” My body trembled, and tears finally streamed down my face. “Liam, this is theft! This is plagiarism!” Hearing the word “plagiarism,” Liam’s face completely darkened. “Watch your tone,” he said coldly. “Scarlett’s hand was injured because of you; she can’t even hold a pen now. I gave her a few of your rough sketches to use, consider it your apology to her.” “Apology?” I laughed, a harsh, tearing sound, tears streaming down my face. “She cut herself, and you want me to apologize? Liam, do you know that day I…” I miscarried. Our baby was gone. The words died on my lips. What was the point of telling a heartless bastard like him? He only cared about the small cut on Scarlett’s hand. “I won’t let you get away with this,” I gritted out, word by word. “I’ll submit all my creative records and original materials to the committee. I’ll expose Scarlett for plagiarism!” Liam’s eyes narrowed. He shot up, grabbing my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Summer Miller, I’m warning you, don’t play hard to get. As long as you keep quiet, you can fill out this check however you want.” He flung a blank check at my face. “But if you dare lay a finger on Scarlett, I promise, you won’t survive in this city!” The check fluttered lightly to the floor. I looked at this familiar yet unfamiliar face, and suddenly felt utterly disgusted. “Liam, I’ll see you in court.” I roughly slapped his hand away and turned, walking out with unwavering resolve.

SUMMER’S POV I returned to my studio and copied all my ‘Phoenix Rising’ inspiration, fabric procurement records, and scanned first drafts from my computer onto a flash drive. I would take these irrefutable proofs directly to the Golden Apex Award committee headquarters. Just as I walked out of the studio building, a black, unmarked van suddenly screeched to a halt in front of me. The sliding door burst open, and several burly men in masks rushed out. Without a word, they grabbed the bag from my hand. “What are you doing! This is robbery!” I struggled, but one of the men shoved me hard to the ground. The contents of my bag scattered. The man precisely picked up the flash drive, then respectfully handed it to a woman who stepped out of a Porsche behind the van. Scarlett, wearing sunglasses and high heels, looked down at me, sprawled on the ground. She played with the flash drive in her hand, a mocking smile on her lips. “Summer Miller, you’re truly naive. Did you really think Liam would let you hand these things over?” My palm was scraped, oozing blood. I glared at Scarlett. “Give it back to me!” “Give it back to you?” Scarlett sneered, then threw the flash drive on the ground, grinding her sharp heel onto it. Snap! The flash drive shattered into pieces. “Here, Liam is power. You think you can fight him? You’re practically asking to die,” Scarlett said, taking off her sunglasses, her eyes vicious. “Not only will I take your designs, but I’ll also ruin your reputation, making you a pariah who can never recover!” With that, she turned and got into the Porsche, driving away. I knelt on the ground, staring despairingly at the scattered shards. I had underestimated Liam’s cruelty, and Scarlett’s shamelessness. Less than two hours later, the online outrage exploded. Scarlett’s PR team launched a pre-emptive strike, playing the victim, publishing a lengthy post across all major social media platforms. In the post, Scarlett tearfully accused an unknown designer named “Ms. Shen” of long-term stalking and harassing billionaire Liam, delusional about marrying into wealth. Now, this “Ms. Shen” was reportedly twisting the facts, attempting to steal her painstakingly created ‘Phoenix Rising’ design series. To add credibility, the post included a few blurry photos. In the photos, I was seen “bothering” Liam outside Maxwell Group headquarters, while Liam’s face was cold and indifferent. Maxwell Group’s official X account retweeted the post, with a single word: “Investigate.” This was essentially an official stamp on my “crimes.” In an instant, the entire internet erupted. “Oh my god, this woman is shameless! Failed mistress now trying to steal someone’s work?” “Scarlett is a brilliant graduate from a top international university, why would she need to plagiarize some nobody from a no-name school?” “Doxx her! Get this wicked woman out of the design world!” My personal information, phone number, and even my studio address were dug up in less than half a day. My phone vibrated incessantly, bombarded with vicious hate messages, every call filled with obscenities. The glass door of my studio was smashed by extreme netizens, red paint splattered inside, and the walls were covered with blood-red graffiti like “Die, mistress!” and “Plagiarist scumbag!” I hid in my unlit apartment, trembling uncontrollably. Just then, my brother Ethan called. As soon as I answered, his choked sob came through. “Summer… is what they’re saying online true?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “385534”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

After maternity leave, I was heading back to work, scrambling to find a reliable nanny. Then, my mother-in-law, Brenda, suddenly walked in with her luggage. “Audrey, I’m here to help you with the baby. No outsider can be as careful as I am.” My eyes teared up with gratitude. I was about to prepare her something to eat when she stopped me. A printed price list for childcare services was taped to the fridge. “I’m not asking for much, just market rate for a nanny: fifteen hundred dollars a month.” “Also, I’m giving up my card games, so you owe me a one-time compensation of three thousand dollars for my mental distress.” Seeing my stunned expression, she rolled her eyes. “Too expensive? This is already a discounted price, just because it’s for my grandson!” “If you don’t want to pay up, then quit your job and stay home as a full-time mom. Let’s see who supports you then.” I looked at her shameless face, stifled my anger, and smiled. “Alright, then. Since it’s an employer-employee relationship, we need to sign a proper contract.”

Husband Kevin quickly stepped between us, reaching to pull the price list off the fridge. “What are you doing? Why are we talking about money when we’re family?” Brenda slapped Kevin’s hand away, protecting the paper. “Even close family members need to be clear about money! I practically wiped your butt when you were a baby, and now I have to take care of your wife and child. What’s wrong with me asking for some hard-earned money?” Kevin turned to me. “Audrey, Brenda was just kidding around. Don’t take her too seriously; just go along with what she says.” I avoided Kevin’s hand and turned towards the study. “I’m not taking her too seriously. I think what Brenda said makes a lot of sense.” I opened my laptop, pulled up an “Advanced Nanny Employment Contract,” and started modifying the clauses. Ten minutes later, I spread the contract flat on the table and pushed it towards Brenda. “Brenda, these are the service standards for a $1,500 monthly salary. Please take a look.” Brenda picked up the contract, mumbling. “Don’t give me any of that nonsense. I can read just as well as you can.” I pulled out a chair and sat down. “First clause: working hours are from 8 AM to 6 PM. During this time, you must ensure the baby’s feeding, sleep, and basic early education.” “Second clause: as per nanny standards, you need to record the baby’s milk intake, bowel movements, and temperature changes daily.” Brenda slammed the contract onto the table. “Are you trying to catch me doing something wrong? I’ve raised more kids than you’ve ever seen!” I maintained my smile. “Brenda, you’re asking for a nanny’s price, so naturally, you’ll be held to a nanny’s standards.” “Third clause: if the baby falls ill or gets injured due to improper care, the medical expenses will be borne by Party B — that’s you — and twenty percent of your monthly performance bonus will be deducted.” Kevin panicked, grabbing the contract. “Audrey, are you out of your mind? This is Brenda! You want her to pay for damages?” I turned to Kevin. “Kevin, Brenda was the one who voluntarily proposed an employment relationship. As her employer, setting up performance indicators is perfectly reasonable.” I looked back at Brenda, pushing the inkpad closer. “Brenda, as soon as you sign, I’ll transfer the three thousand dollars for mental distress straight to your account.” Brenda’s eyes lit up at the mention of three thousand dollars. She pushed Kevin aside and snatched the pen from the table. “Sign, then! My own grandson, how could I mess him up? Transfer the money to me now!” She signed her name on both copies of the contract and then pressed her thumbprint. I picked up one copy of the contract, checked it carefully, then pulled out my phone. “PayPal notification: three thousand dollars deposited.” Brenda’s face crinkled with a wide smile. She casually stuffed the contracts under the table and turned to coo at the baby in the crib. “Oh, my precious grandson, I’m going to buy you some goodies right now.” I stood up and locked my copy of the contract in the safe in my study. Kevin followed me into the study, closing the door behind him. “Do you really have to make our home feel like a company? Couldn’t you just give Brenda some pocket money if she wanted cash?” I looked at Kevin’s face and replied calmly. “Kevin, pocket money is a favor; a salary is an obligation.” “Since she’s taking a salary, she has to follow the rules.”

The next morning, before I left for work, I pointed to the white, dome-shaped device in the living room corner and instructed Brenda. “Brenda, this is the baby monitor I installed last night. I can check on the baby anytime, so please don’t touch it.” Brenda rolled her eyes. “What do you need a monitor for? Are you afraid I’ll abuse your son? That’s completely pointless!” I ignored her comment. “Brenda, don’t forget to fill out the baby’s daily record sheet. I’ll check it when I get home from work.” With that, I opened the door and left, heading straight to the office. At 10 AM, I was in a meeting, and during a break, I opened the monitoring app on my phone. On the screen, the baby in the crib was crying loudly, kicking his arms and legs. Brenda wasn’t nearby. The scene shifted, and three unfamiliar middle-aged women were sitting on the living room sofa. Brenda threw down a pair of cards, then shouted towards the crib. “What are you howling about, you little terror!” I immediately dialed the home phone. It rang over ten times before Brenda’s impatient voice answered. “Who is it? Are you trying to rush me to my grave?!” “Brenda, it’s me.” “Clause four of the contract states that bringing outsiders into the house is strictly prohibited during working hours, and engaging in recreational activities is also not allowed.” “You violated the rules today. According to the penalty details in the contract addendum, five hundred dollars will be deducted from your salary this month.” There was a second of silence on the other end, followed by Brenda’s furious curses. “Audrey, you little hussy! How dare you deduct my money?” “What’s wrong with having a few friends over? You really treat me like your servant!” I held the phone away from my ear, waiting for her to finish cursing before bringing it back. “Brenda, you signed that contract yourself.” “I’ve saved the security footage. If you continue playing cards, your afternoon pay will also be deducted.” With that, I hung up. When I got home from work that evening, as soon as I pushed open the door, a throw pillow flew at me. I dodged it. Brenda was sitting on the floor, slapping her thighs, sobbing uncontrollably. “I can’t live like this! I work so hard taking care of your child, and this vicious woman monitors me and deducts my pay!” Kevin crouched beside her, anxiously handing her tissues. Seeing me enter, Kevin stood up and pointed a finger at me. “Audrey, you’re going too far! How can you treat an elder like this?” I changed into my slippers, walked to the table, and picked up the blank baby’s daily record sheet. “How many ounces of milk did the baby have today? How many bowel movements? What was his temperature?” I looked at Kevin and slapped the record sheet against his chest. “She’s taking a $1,500 salary from me, and she hasn’t even done her most basic job. I’m deducting $500 for breach of contract. How is that going too far?” Brenda scrambled up from the floor, rushed to me, and pointed her finger at my face, cursing loudly. “You heartless wretch! Kevin makes so much money every month, how dare you withhold my hard-earned pay!” She became more agitated as she cursed, flailing her arms in the air. Suddenly, her palm landed heavily on my left cheek. The living room fell silent. I felt a burning sting on my cheek. Kevin was terrified and quickly pulled Brenda back. “What are you doing? Why did you hit her?!” Brenda’s eyes darted around, then she stuck out her neck defiantly. “I… I didn’t mean to! Why was she standing so close to me?!” I calmly looked at Brenda, pulled out my phone from my pocket, and turned on the recording function. “Brenda, that slap you just gave me, it was an accident, right?” Brenda, seeing that I wasn’t angry, became bolder. “Yes! It was an accident! What’s wrong with an elder teaching a younger person a lesson, hitting you once?” I nodded and pressed the save button. “Alright, I’ve noted that.” I turned and walked into the nursery, picking up the baby, whose cries had become hoarse. Kevin followed me, his voice pleading. “Audrey, Brenda didn’t mean to. Please don’t hold the contract over her head. Just give her the five hundred dollars back, I’m begging you.” I prepared formula for the baby, answering without looking up. “Kevin, rules are rules.” “Once you break one, that contract becomes a piece of trash.”

For the next two weeks, Brenda seemed to have learned her lesson. She no longer brought people home to play cards, and she’d put a few checkmarks on the record sheet daily. However, whenever I returned home from work, she would speak to me in a sarcastic, passive-aggressive tone. “Oh, look, the big boss is back. We servants must attend to her properly.” I pretended not to hear. As long as she fed and changed the baby on time, I wouldn’t interfere. Until the night before payday. Brenda suddenly put down her fork at the dinner table and cleared her throat. “Tomorrow’s payday. You might as well just give me next month’s fifteen hundred dollars in advance.” Kevin asked. “Do you need money urgently? I can transfer some to you.” Brenda glared at Kevin. “You shut up! This is between me and my employer.” She turned to me, holding out her hand. “I’ve seen a therapy device I like, and it costs over a thousand dollars. If you settle next month’s salary now, I can pay the remaining balance.” “An advance is fine, but it has to follow proper procedure.” I transferred fifteen hundred dollars to her account right in front of her. In the transfer notes, I typed “Advance payment for next month’s nanny salary.” “The money’s transferred. Check your account.” Brenda heard her phone notification and smiled contentedly. “At least you’re sensible.” That weekend, I was strolling with the baby in his stroller around the neighborhood. Mrs. Davis, who lived downstairs, came up to me and mysteriously pulled my arm. “Audrey, there’s something I don’t know if I should say.” I stopped. “Mrs. Davis, please tell me.” Mrs. Davis looked around, lowering her voice. “A couple of days ago, I went to the flea market to sell some cardboard, and I saw your mother-in-law there, selling empty baby formula cans.” “Selling junk isn’t a big deal, but yesterday, I went to the supermarket and saw her buying several bags of cheap, low-quality formula that cost only a few dollars.” Mrs. Davis pointed to the can of imported hypoallergenic formula in my baby’s stroller. “Your baby drinks the expensive five hundred dollar kind. Why would your mother-in-law buy that cheap stuff?” The smile on my face slowly disappeared. “Thank you for the heads-up, Mrs. Davis. I understand.” Back home, Brenda was sitting on the sofa watching TV. I walked to the baby supplies cabinet and picked up the opened can of imported formula. The seal on the can showed signs of having been pried open and re-sealed. I scooped a bit of the formula onto my tongue and tasted it. The taste was off. It was gritty, not the fine texture of the original. I took the formula can and walked to Brenda. “What’s going on with this formula?” Brenda’s eyes darted nervously, then she raised her voice. “What do you mean, what’s going on? It’s just the formula you bought!” I slammed the formula can heavily onto the table. “I bought deep-hydrolyzed formula. This can clearly contains regular whole milk formula.” Brenda stood up, hands on her hips. “You’re full of it! Which eye saw me switch the formula? You bought a fake product yourself, and now you’re blaming me? You heartless woman!” Kevin rushed out of the study, hearing the argument. “What now? Can’t we have one quiet day?” Brenda threw herself onto Kevin, weeping melodramatically. “Kevin, look at the wonderful wife you married! She’s accusing me of stealing my grandson’s food!” “What’s the point of me living? I might as well just bash my head against the wall!” As she spoke, she lunged towards the wall. Kevin hugged her tightly. “Audrey! Can you stop being so suspicious all the time? How could Brenda possibly harm her own grandson?” I looked at the mother and son, feeling no anger. I simply pulled out my phone and, in front of them, opened a shopping app. “Every can of formula I buy has a traceability code. Whether it’s fake or not, we’ll know with a quick scan.” “As for how the formula in this can became… spoiled…” I looked up, meeting Brenda’s evasive eyes directly. “You’d better pray the baby doesn’t have any problems from drinking this cheap formula.” “Otherwise, according to the contract, you’ll not only have to compensate for medical expenses but also bear legal responsibility.” Brenda’s crying stopped abruptly. She glared at me, gritting her teeth. “Don’t you dare threaten me with contracts! I’m his grandmother! The court can’t arrest me, can it?!” I ignored her, turned, and poured the fake formula into the trash can. Kevin sighed. “Audrey, do you have to turn our home into a battlefield?” I looked at Kevin. “Kevin, this isn’t a small matter. It could have serious consequences.” “I’m simply upholding my legitimate rights as a mother and an employer.”

Two weeks later, my worst fear came true. That afternoon, I was in a company meeting when Kevin called. “Audrey, hurry to the City Hospital ER! The baby’s vomiting and has diarrhea, and he’s covered in a rash!” When I rushed into the emergency room, the baby was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV, his little face pale, his cries weak. Brenda was sitting on a bench in the hallway. Seeing me run over, she showed no remorse, just rolled her eyes. “What’s the rush? It’s normal for kids to have a little diarrhea and a rash. You’re just being overly sensitive.” I ignored her and went straight into the consulting room to find the doctor. The doctor handed me the lab results. “The child has an intestinal infection complicated by an allergic reaction.” “How are you feeding him? Did he eat something contaminated, or drink an incompatible formula?” I clutched the lab results tightly. “Doctor, the baby has always had deep-hydrolyzed formula. Recently… it might have been switched to regular formula.” The doctor gave me a stern look. “That’s reckless! How can a child with allergies be switched formulas so casually? If you had brought him in half a day later, he would have been severely dehydrated and in shock!” I walked out of the consulting room and approached Brenda. “The doctor said it was an allergic reaction and intestinal infection caused by eating the wrong formula.” Brenda stood up and pointed a finger at my face. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me! It’s clearly your own bad genes, having a child who can’t eat this or that!” “When I raised Kevin, what kind of rice water and vegetable purees didn’t I feed him? Why is *he* so problematic?” Kevin ran back from the payment counter, sweating profusely. “Audrey, the medical bill’s paid. Over two hundred dollars.” Brenda immediately jumped up when she heard “over two hundred dollars.” “Over two hundred dollars? Is the hospital ripping us off?!” She grabbed Kevin’s arm. “Kevin, we can’t pay this! It’s Audrey’s fault for buying bad formula, she should pay for it herself!” “And, I’ve been taking care of the child here in the hospital, scared out of my wits. She has to give me an additional five hundred dollars for emotional compensation!” I looked at Brenda’s greedy face, then at Kevin, who remained silent beside her. “Kevin, do you also think I should pay this money, and give her an extra five hundred dollars?” Kevin scratched his head. “Audrey, no one feels good when the baby’s sick. Brenda is getting old, and it’s not easy for her to stay in the hospital, so don’t argue with her.” “Why don’t you… just quit your job and stay home with the baby? You can’t stand Brenda’s temper anyway, and I’ll support all of you.” Listening to Kevin’s fence-sitting, I quietly started packing the baby’s diapers and bottles. Kevin thought I had given in. “Audrey, why are you packing? The doctor said we need to stay for two more days of observation.” I turned around, pulling the “Advanced Nanny Employment Contract” from a compartment in my bag. Looking at Brenda, who was standing outside the door. “Brenda, prepare to pay up.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “385533”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster