Category: English

The Princess of Capital Society was a complete love-struck fool. To elope with a poor student. She slashed my face and threatened me with my parents’ lives: “As long as you get plastic surgery to look like me and marry the Capital Scion in my place, I’ll spare your parents.” As I desperately resisted, bullet comments suddenly floated across my vision: [Princess Sweetheart is so naive! She and the poor student will encounter a tsunami during their elopement. Not only will the princess be utterly lost, but she’ll also lose her protagonist status!] [The Capital Scion is the real male lead, but the princess is choosing this poor student side character.] [What a lucky break for this passerby whose face got slashed. If she agrees to the surgery, she can replace the princess and marry into a wealthy family for a good life!] I clutched my bloody, mangled face and made an immediate decision: “Take me to get the surgery now. I promise to imitate you perfectly, ensuring no one sees through the disguise.” Since she was handing me immense wealth on a silver platter. Then I wouldn’t be polite. … My words made the bullet comments explode: [No way, is this passerby named Fiona really that bold? She’s actually daring to replace the princess in an arranged marriage?] [If anyone finds out Fiona is an impostor with plastic surgery, their whole family will surely die horribly.] Well then, I’d just have to work hard to ensure no one discovered my deception. I asked the princess, Stella Song: “Just plastic surgery won’t be enough. What if someone finds out I’m a fake and drags you back?” As Stella frowned, I seized the opportunity to suggest: “How about you train me properly? Teach me your mannerisms, your fashion style, familiarize me with your hobbies, friends, and family, and so on.” “As long as you can make me imitate you flawlessly, 360 degrees, it’ll be foolproof.” Stella immediately agreed: “Let’s do as you say. There are still three months until the arranged marriage, so while you’re recovering from surgery, I can properly train you.” Once my objective was achieved, she unlocked the chains on my parents: “Fiona, if you had agreed earlier, your family wouldn’t have had to suffer so much.” At this point, my parents were covered in blood and barely clinging to life. Yet, they continued to beg Stella: “Spare Fiona, please…” Stella kicked them disdainfully: “It’s a blessing for low-class people like you that I chose Fiona as my stand-in. You should be thanking me.” I knelt beside my parents, a fierce hatred surging within me. Just because my eyes, height, and voice bore an eighty percent resemblance to Stella. Stella had mercilessly targeted me. My family was dirt poor. My parents had no relatives and raised me by scavenging. Stella wanting to torment us was easier than crushing an ant. Thankfully, these bullet comments appeared. They made me change my mind in time, saving my parents’ lives. As I lay on the operating table, The bullet comments were still wailing: [Can the princess hurry up and come to her senses? The Capital Scion is a rich, handsome, powerful CEO! I don’t want to see Fiona snatching this opportunity!] A rich, handsome, powerful CEO? That’s perfect. I endured the excruciating pain of bone shaving and flesh grinding, closing my eyes in anticipation. From this moment on, I would no longer be the pitiful Fiona. I would replace the love-struck Stella Song and become the true Princess of Capital Society. The Capital Scion she didn’t want to marry, I would. The good life she refused, I would live in her stead! The next day, Stella began an intense training regimen for me. “I was on the racetrack at eighteen. You need to get your driver’s license now, then spend three hours every day practicing your driving skills.” “Your country accent is absolutely dreadful. Hurry up and perfect your standard English and common language. If you embarrass my father in a big setting, I’ll kill you!” “Do you understand dining etiquette? Do you understand the rules of high society? Have you never had a manicure?” As Stella lectured, she started losing her temper: “I’m very particular about everything—food, clothing, housing, travel. You reek of poverty; how could you possibly imitate me?” I humbly placated Stella: “I can do it! Even if I don’t sleep, I’ll study diligently according to your demands.” I knew the gap between Stella and me was vast. But I wasn’t afraid. I forced myself to sleep only two hours a day. Besides practicing driving and standard English, I started learning English and financial knowledge from scratch. I also devoured fashion magazines, memorized all the designer brands, and followed online videos to learn etiquette. With immense willpower and determination. A month later. I successfully got my driver’s license, my standard English became fluent, and the timidity in my eyes diminished considerably. Stella was very pleased with this: “I didn’t expect you to be so serious. Let’s move on to the next stage.” She brought stacks of documents and photos: “This is my family’s lineage. You must recognize all these relatives. They’ll give me big red envelopes during holidays. If you mistake anyone, you’re dead.” “These are important business partners of the Song family. You need to flatter all of them perfectly, or my parents will be unhappy.” “These are the details and background of my fiancé. Study them carefully and handle him for me.” I stared at the photo of the Capital Scion, Arthur Verdi, setting a goal for myself. As long as I secured this man and bore him a few children. Even if someone discovered my true identity in the future. With the children as my trump card, I could at least ensure my life and my parents’ lives. As for my parents, they hadn’t received any medical treatment since they were beaten last time. Stella kept a close watch on me, not allowing me to care for them at all. I could only occasionally sneak back to bring them some medicine and food. “Don’t worry, once I become Stella Song, I’ll make sure you live a good life.” For my sake and my parents’. I was incredibly motivated, wishing I could utilize every hour of the day. As the scabs on my face gradually fell off, The poor student couldn’t help but worry: “Fiona looks too much like you after the surgery. What if she takes advantage and replaces you, stealing your assets?” The bullet comments were also anxious: [Side character, hurry and warn the princess! This Fiona looks malicious; her diligence clearly shows she wants to take over!] [Can someone tell the princess she’s going to die in a tsunami? I’m practically dying of anxiety!] Stella was unconcerned: “Can’t I handle a trash picker? Don’t worry, I have a plan.” She grabbed my neck, her voice sinister: “I’m giving you an account number. Once you’re in my family, all the money and wedding dowry my family gives you, you must transfer to me.” “If I find out you’re pocketing my money, I’ll immediately return, expose your identity, and make sure your entire family dies a miserable death!” With that, she pushed me away and, linking arms with the poor student, smiled sweetly: “From now on, the trash picker will continuously send us money. We can travel the world and be happy together!” I feigned agreement. But inwardly, I couldn’t stop sneering. If Stella knew she would soon die, and I would completely replace her… I wonder if she would still be smiling? Soon, as all my surgery wounds healed. My every word and action took on the air of a wealthy young lady. I learned skincare and makeup, learned how to dress fashionably, and how to put on airs and act spoiled. I could recognize every relative and friend around Stella. I knew the company’s executives and subordinates even better than Stella did. At this point, the wedding date was approaching rapidly. Stella couldn’t wait to put me into practice: “Tonight, my family is formally meeting the Verdi family to discuss the wedding. You’d better perform well!” The bullet comments were still clinging to hope: [I hope Fiona makes a ton of mistakes tonight and gets exposed as a fake. That way, our princess still has a chance.] [Fiona still has poverty etched into her bones. Arthur Verdi will definitely notice it. I’m waiting to see Fiona make a fool of herself.] The bullet comments weren’t optimistic about me. But I proved them wrong. From driving home and playfully charming Mr. and Mrs. Song, to helping myself and Mrs. Song choose dresses and makeup… Throughout the entire process. No one in the Song family questioned my authenticity. If I could pass the Song family’s test, I had even less to worry about with the Verdi family. Before leaving, Mrs. Song asked me, worriedly: “Daughter, have you completely broken up with that poor student?” “You were throwing tantrums about canceling the engagement before, and now you’re suddenly so cooperative. Are you plotting something again?” I imitated Stella’s tone, lifting my chin haughtily: “Mom, can’t you have a little faith in me? No matter how much I act out, I know how to handle important matters. I wouldn’t die of anger over some poor student, would I?” “Besides, Arthur Verdi’s looks are pleasing to my eye, so marrying him won’t be a loss for me.” My sweet, coquettish, and clever demeanor would make the real Stella Song bow in defeat. It brought a relieved smile to Mrs. Song’s face. “You truly are my good daughter. Here’s five million; go buy yourself a new car.” As soon as the money hit my account, I transferred it to Stella. Stella expressed her satisfaction and told me to perform well that night. When I sat down at the dinner table, Knowing Arthur Verdi was constantly observing me, I deliberately acted indifferent to him. During the meal, I was extra careful, avoiding all the foods Stella wouldn’t touch. It wasn’t until the conversation turned to the wedding budget that Arthur Verdi initiated a conversation with me: “My current budget is eighty million. Ms. Song, do you have any thoughts on this?” I sneered, a disdainful curl to my lips: “Eighty million to buy off a beggar? I spend more than eighty million on fireworks. If you want to marry me, please show the highest level of sincerity.” My arrogant, overbearing demeanor, as expected, made Arthur Verdi narrow his eyes in appreciation: “Alright, then I’ll plan the wedding with a budget of five hundred million, with no upper limit.” I slammed my hand on the table petulantly: “Sit closer, how are we supposed to discuss details from so far away?” “I want the best designer to create my wedding gown; I won’t wear it unless it’s fully encrusted with diamonds.” Arthur Verdi smiled knowingly and moved to sit beside me. The bullet comments gasped: [Fiona really imitated her to perfection! Neither the Song family nor the Verdi family noticed Fiona was a fake. What if she really marries Arthur Verdi?] [Can the princess please punish Fiona properly? I think this ugly duckling genuinely wants to snag Arthur Verdi.] The Verdi family was extremely pleased with me, immediately transferring an advance payment of ten million for the dowry. As soon as the meeting ended, I transferred the money to Stella. “Fiona, you did quite well tonight. It was practically indistinguishable from the real thing.” I thought Stella had lowered her guard. But then her face suddenly changed, and she slapped me hard: “Remember your place. A fake is a fake; it can’t become real.” “Your purpose in living is to marry in my stead, and then transfer money to me to save your parents’ pathetic lives.” With that, She actually dragged my parents out again. In front of me, she brutally broke one of my father’s legs: “If I find out you’re trying to replace me, I’ll cripple the remaining three limbs of your parents!” Amidst my parents’ screams, I wiped away my tears and, humiliated, bowed my head to her: “I’ll do whatever you ask. I will never covet what doesn’t belong to me.” Stella threw her identification documents at me, then took mine, and began preparing her elopement plan. Through the bullet comments, I learned that she and the poor student had arranged a smuggler’s boat and secured a house abroad. Meanwhile, following Stella’s instructions, I converted her valuable bags and jewelry into cash and transferred it all to her account. During this time, I also relentlessly paved my own way. Whenever I returned to the Song family residence, I would secretly collect strands of Stella’s hair, for future unforeseen needs. The bullet comments grew more anxious: [The more I look at this Fiona, the less she seems like a good person. I feel like the princess is raising a tiger.] [If only the princess had checked the weather forecast before setting her itinerary, she could have avoided the tsunami!] I counted down the days to the elopement, my heart pounding with excitement. As soon as Stella got on the boat and died in the tsunami, I would no longer have to live in constant fear. I seized every opportunity to get close to Arthur Verdi. However, Arthur Verdi was an inscrutable man. One day, he even said to me: “Ms. Song, you’re not quite what I imagined.” I used coquetry to mask my panic, asking him what he meant by that. “From my investigation, you were once madly in love with a poor student, even considering breaking off our engagement for him.” “What changed your mind and made you agree to marry me?” I scoffed, feigning disgust: “Can we please not bring up that destitute ex-boyfriend? How unlucky! Or do you have a cuckold fetish?” Arthur Verdi stared at me meaningfully: “Since you despise your ex-boyfriend so much, I’ll keep an eye on him for you, ensuring he never bothers you again.” I suppressed my inner panic, simply assuming Arthur Verdi was joking. In our subsequent interactions, I occasionally brought up the poor student, just to prevent Arthur Verdi from becoming suspicious. After a few more agonizing days, it was finally the day of Stella’s elopement. As planned, I stayed at Arthur Verdi’s place that night. I intended to take advantage of the situation to seal our relationship, while the bullet comments were live-streaming the elopement process. [It makes me so angry to see Fiona kissing and hugging Arthur Verdi! She’s here with a rich, handsome guy, while the real princess can only secretly elope by boat.] [Sigh, the princess has finally boarded the boat of no return. The tsunami is approaching, and my protagonist is just… gone…] Seeing the bullet comments announce that Stella’s boat had set sail, The huge rock in my heart finally settled. After tonight, I would be the real Stella Song! No one would ever harm my family again, and I wouldn’t have to be anyone’s dog anymore. Only endless wealth and glory awaited me in the future. I suppressed my inner excitement, about to continue my intimacy with Arthur Verdi. Suddenly, his assistant frantically knocked on the door: “Mr. Verdi, it’s bad! That poor student eloped with Stella Song! Someone saw them boarding a ship bound for overseas!” My body stiffened, and I completely lost my composure. I had calculated a thousand things, but I never accounted for this. Arthur Verdi wasn’t joking; he really was watching that poor student! If Arthur Verdi decided to dig deeper, I would definitely be exposed! By then, not only would all my efforts be in vain, But our family of three would also face a gruesome end… Just as I was in a state of frantic panic, Arthur Verdi looked at me, confused, then opened the door to question his assistant: “Are you sure that the woman who eloped is my fiancée, Stella Song?” “Yes! I received photos!” Arthur Verdi took the phone, and his expression instantly froze. The next second, he fiercely gripped my hand: “If that woman who eloped is Stella Song, then who are you?” My heart leaped into my throat. At the same time, bullet comments scrolled wildly before my eyes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394697”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the apocalypse, I acted out due to my pregnancy. Others couldn’t even get water, but I’d make Richard clear out zombie-infested supermarkets just to get me milk. Until I gave birth to a… zombie baby. I fainted from shock, then was jolted awake by the system: [I told you to romance the male lead, not to cheat on him!] [And a zombie, no less! Now it’s impossible to trick the male lead into taking the kid!] [The male lead already hates zombies. Now you and your baby are definitely going to be thrown into the zombie horde…] Richard once again offered me milk, warmed with his powers. I frantically shook my head. “I-I’m never drinking milk again.” 1 “Say that again. What’s in my belly?” The system repeated firmly: [You’re carrying a zombie!] After humanity entered the apocalypse, the medical system completely collapsed. Fortunately, I was still bound to a system that regularly helped me with prenatal check-ups. The progress of romancing Richard had been stuck at 99%. The system and I both agreed that the key to ultimate success lay with this child. At the moment of complete domestic bliss, the strong, tragic male lead would surely be completely healed. But now. It was telling me that what I was carrying was not Richard’s child at all. But a zombie’s? My vision went black. I fainted instantly from fright. Richard was the leader of the Southern Base. Everyone knew he detested zombies. He killed every one he saw. That’s how he earned his current top-tier ability and status. [Youth is good, just fall over and sleep. But host, wake up first.] The system jolted me awake with a “biu.” It was utterly heartbroken. [I told you to romance the male lead, not to cheat on him!] [And with a zombie, no less! Now it’s impossible to trick the male lead into taking the kid!] [The male lead already hates zombies. Now you’re doomed. He’s definitely going to throw you and your baby into the zombie horde…] I was utterly confused. And collapsing. “How could this happen…” Good heavens. I truly never cheated on him! No. Except for that one time… 2 That day, I found a bottle of fruit wine among the supplies Richard had gathered. I couldn’t resist drinking it all. In my drunken stupor, I vaguely saw a pair of red eyes. Chilling, dangerous. Clearly not the eyes of a normal human. Those belonged to the legendary high-level zombies. Half-sober, I was terrified. I tried to run. But was dragged back by my ankle. When I woke up, I was lying in the base’s bedroom. Richard was bringing me food back to the room. I simply thought it was a dream. Now that I think about it. Richard’s expression was a bit strange then. He asked me, “Do you remember anything? Do you feel any discomfort?” I was so embarrassed, I thought he was asking about his performance last night. I threw a pillow at him. “Don’t ask!” He froze for a moment, then said nothing more. He just pulled me into his arms, holding me very tightly. 3 “How about we draw lots again?” The ability team was discussing personnel assignments for a mission, when someone suddenly suggested, in a nuanced tone. Pulling my thoughts back. I looked at them blankly: “Why redraw?” Then I realized they were also observing my reaction. It turned out that during the drawing, Richard and a newly joined female ability user, Sarah, were accidentally chosen to go on an S-rank mission together. I was notorious for my ‘demanding’ nature, leveraging my beauty. Since seeking protection from Richard, the Southern Base leader, I had a reputation for being ‘difficult’. I was very possessive of him. If he was going out on a mission, I’d cling to his arm and insist on going for a drive with him. If he spoke an extra word to a female team member, I’d be jealous for three days straight. Not to mention this kind of isolated outing for two people, a man and a woman. My behavior only intensified after I got pregnant. But now… The system urgently warned me, [At this point, let’s not be arrogant. Put the romance mission aside; self-preservation is key!] [It was understandable that you were possessive of the male lead for the sake of the mission. But now, self-preservation is paramount. Listen to me, it’s best to quickly hand over the male lead, this hot potato, to the female second lead…] [Anyway, you don’t really have feelings for him beyond the mission.] Hearing that last sentence. My hand paused, mid-stroke, on my belly. My thick eyelashes lowered, concealing a hint of bitterness. In the living room. Richard said calmly, “No need.” “I can handle it alone. Sarah can go with your other team…” Before he could finish. I quickly interrupted: “Just follow the drawing.” “Sarah’s abilities complement yours perfectly. You two go together.” Richard looked at me in surprise, his eyes dimming slightly. I returned a sweet, soft smile. 4 Evening. Everyone had returned from their missions. Except for Richard and Sarah, who had the most arduous task. Following their tracker, we found them in a warehouse of an abandoned supermarket. Richard was shirtless, his muscles wrapped in bandages. Sarah was crouching in front of him, her hand resting on his chest. Hearing the commotion. She frantically withdrew her hand and stood up. “Why are you all here?” As she spoke, she made small, restless gestures. Tossing her hair, her cheeks flushed: “I was treating Captain Hayes’s wounds. He’s quite hurt… Please don’t overthink it, Phoebe.” The other team members exchanged glances, having initially not thought much of it. I also stood motionless. Richard’s gaze was as cold as ever, but on closer inspection, it seemed to hold a hint of tension. Everyone was waiting for my reaction. I pursed my lips. But, uncharacteristically, I was generous. “Well, why don’t we wait for them in the car? We’ll head back together after they’ve finished treating their wounds.” The air was silent for two seconds. The others were momentarily unsure if I was being sarcastic. Richard’s face darkened. Ignoring his wounds, he picked up his shirt and put it on. He hoisted a carton of milk supplies by his side and walked away. As he brushed past me. He gave me a fleeting glance. That look sent shivers down my spine. On the way back, he didn’t say a word. When we got home, he still heated a cup of bedtime milk for me first. Then he sat there, changing his own dressing. I went to help. He pulled his hand back. “No need.” I froze. He struggled to wrap the bandage himself, one hand being inconvenient, making a messy job of it. Eventually, I snatched it from him and re-bandaged it properly. In the quiet bedroom, a low, hoarse, unwilling voice suddenly broke the silence. “Why weren’t you angry today?” 5 My hand paused. I chose to feign ignorance. “Huh, angry about what?” “Phoebe, don’t pretend.” His dark eyes were still, fixed on me. I continued to wrap the bandage, speaking softly. “You two were treating wounds, what’s there to be angry about?” On the way here. Afraid my emotions would trigger early labor, the system showed me the remote monitoring. They truly weren’t doing anything. Besides, I was carrying another being’s child in my belly. Even if they really were doing something. What right did I have to be angry at him? He was silent for a few seconds. “Phoebe, you weren’t like this before.” That night, Richard tossed and turned. Suddenly, he hugged me from behind, his hand resting on my belly, even unconsciously stroking it a few times. My body stiffened. I knew he couldn’t tell the baby’s species by touch. Still, I instinctively felt guilty. As soon as I moved his hand away. He put it back. “You, don’t want to?” I moved it away again. “No.” He stopped moving. After a while, his voice was muffled, containing a hint of uncontrollable joy. “You really are angry after all.” I shook my head. “No, I’m just tired.” He was silent for a moment. His hand reached over again, this time gently pulling me into his embrace. “I’m sorry, you’re tired from pregnancy. Just sleep if you’re tired.” I didn’t struggle anymore. But I couldn’t sleep either, secretly rubbing my leg. I actually wanted to… Late-pregnancy hormones were acting up, making my body uncomfortably restless. I had secretly asked my doctor friend before. She said it was okay, as long as we were careful. But Richard was afraid of hurting me. Each time, he would unilaterally attend to my needs, then use his powers to take a cold shower. Or he’d go out to hunt zombies to vent, returning with a chill and then hugging me tightly again. Today, he definitely wouldn’t touch me. Sure enough, he hugged me for a while, then released me and went to the bathroom. The sound of rushing water went on for a long time. When he came out, he carried a coolness with him. He lay down again, this time a little further from me. Waking up the next morning, a pile of crystal cores lay on the pillow beside me. All of them were his earnings from yesterday. I had no abilities, so I couldn’t absorb them. But I liked these sparkly things, like diamonds or crystals. He always saved them for me. I counted them. There were more than usual. He probably gave me all of yesterday’s spoils. I looked up. And saw Richard staring intently at me. Our eyes met, and he awkwardly looked away. “Awake?” I nodded. Clutching those crystal cores, my heart ached. “I heard… Sarah is at a bottleneck in her Level 3 abilities and needs a lot of crystal cores to level up. Maybe you should give these to her instead?” “It would be a waste if they were given to me.” 6 “And the milk, you don’t have to bother with it next time either.” “A-anyway, I’m almost due, so I don’t need extra nutrition anymore…” He stared at me silently for a while. Just as I felt a chill run down my spine, he suddenly chuckled softly, with a hint of obsession. “Phoebe, when you suddenly clung to me, saying you liked me, I asked why, and you said you wanted my protection. I gave it.” As he spoke. He suddenly pressed close, pinning me against the headboard of the bed. “Now you’re telling me you don’t want anything anymore. Why? Is there another man offering you more?” “Tell me if there’s anything I can’t give you. I can find anything for you, just tell me.” The system told me to stop being difficult, and to be thoughtful and generous, to make him happy. I was already changing. But why did he seem even angrier? I stared at his cold profile, feeling very uneasy myself. Richard was injured last night. The system once again started fretting for me, [It’s over! It looks like the baby in your belly is about to be exposed, and you’ve gone and gotten the male lead injured again?] I wanted to cry but had no tears. “I didn’t! He was injured on the mission.” [This is the apocalypse. Water is more precious than gold, let alone milk. You keep clinging to him, demanding milk every day. Yesterday, he risked injury just to reclaim that carton of milk from dozens of zombies…] I froze. I liked drinking milk, especially a cup of warm milk before bed. But that was a pre-apocalypse habit. I had just mentioned it casually, never expecting Richard to remember it all this time. Just as I was about to say something. A sharp pain shot through my belly. My face changed. Richard suddenly sat up. “Phoebe, are you going into labor—” I endured the pain, shaking my head. “It’s nothing, maybe just… a stomach upset.” “Aren’t you leading a zombie clear-out today? Go quickly. I’m really fine.” He didn’t move. “I’m not going.” My heart was pounding, threatening to burst. If he didn’t go out, and I suddenly went into labor. Wouldn’t everything be exposed? “Really, it’s nothing. Just a cramp earlier, it’s fine now. Your mission is important, don’t delay.” He stared at me, silent. I forced out a pale smile, pushing him out. I looked incredibly considerate. “Go on, go on, don’t make the team wait.” He was silent for a few seconds, then rose and got dressed with a cold expression. He walked to the door. Turned to look at me. “Even if you hate me, it’s too late!” “You provoked me first. I gave you a chance to leave, but you didn’t take it. Trying to get rid of me again? Impossible.” A startling obstinacy flashed in his eyes. He abruptly pulled open the door and left. The sound of the door closing was still silent, however. I’ve always lacked a sense of security since childhood, developing a habit of being easily startled by sudden noises. After he left. I slowly leaned against the headboard, biting my lower lip hard to keep from crying out. My eyes were already red, ring after ring. I gently patted my belly. Baby, just bear with it a little longer. Mommy hasn’t figured out a way yet.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394713”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

As I washed my pregnant friend Summer’s feet, a post popped up on my phone. “What’s the most satisfying thing you’ve ever done in your life?” A recent comment underneath caught my eye. “I have this classmate and roommate I absolutely despise.” “She stole the man I had my eye on, and she took the scholarship that was rightfully mine.” “So, I slept with her husband, took her mansion, and even her son calls me Mommy in private.” “She thinks her husband went bankrupt and is working herself to death to pay off his debts, but all that money is going towards my designer bags.” “Oh, and by the way, she’s washing my feet right now.” I hadn’t really paid it much mind, but then I got up to dump the foot water, and the post updated again. “After she dumps the water, she’s going to make the bed.” “Last night, her husband and I explored quite a few positions on that very bed.” “It was such a thrill, knowing she was sleeping just next door.” I stood in front of the messy master bedroom bed, glancing at the cramped maid’s room across the hall. After a moment of silence, I found that long-forgotten number and dialed it. 1 The messy bed was neatly made, and the window was open, airing out the stale, putrid smell in the room. These tasks had become second nature to me. Because I don’t sleep well. That bed, he’d personally picked out for me from the furniture store. Now, it was where he indulged his affairs. No one would ever guess that the once-illustrious Mrs. Harrison was now working as a maid in her friend’s house. Those hands, once meticulously cared for and skilled at restoring ancient texts at the National Historical Museum, were now calloused and scarred. As usual, I prepared dinner for Summer and then asked for some time off. Summer wiped her mouth, feigning reluctance. “You know my husband, he’s terribly stingy. If you take time off now, you’ll lose a whole day’s pay.” “But we’ve been friends since childhood, so of course, I’ll put in a good word for you.” With that, she took out a takeout container. She packed up her leftover food and handed it to me. “Take this back for an extra meal, don’t let it go to waste.” The look in her eyes as she gazed at me was filled with mockery. But the old me, I never would have noticed. I would have been eternally grateful for her “care” after my supposed bankruptcy. I stared at the greasy leftovers in my hand, my lips pulling into a stiff, forced smile. My voice was dry, like sandpaper grating. “Thank you.” Stepping out of the familiar villa gates, the cold wind bit at my collar. This affluent neighborhood stretched on endlessly, and I had no car. I could only walk, step by painful step, my feet heavy. Once, I was the lady of this mansion, living a life of boundless luxury. After my husband’s supposed bankruptcy, the villa was bought by Summer, a friend who had returned from abroad. She and I were college roommates and always close. We’d kept in touch even after she moved overseas. Leveraging that connection, I quit my physically demanding job and became their maid. Though her never-seen husband was notoriously stingy and my wages were low, I was content. When Summer became pregnant, I dedicated myself even more fully to her every need—cooking, washing her feet, and assisting with her daily routines. For three long years, it wasn’t until today that I realized. This entire situation was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated deception, all aimed at me. An hour later, I finally managed to hail a cab and made my way to my son’s school. The dismissal bell rang. In the throng of parents, I spotted that familiar Bentley. Its champagne color glinted, a sharp, unwelcome sight. This car was the engagement gift my husband, Drake, had given me, my absolute favorite. But after his bankruptcy, I had tearfully sold it to help pay off his debts. Now, it was here. Drake stepped out of the car, dressed in a sharp suit, radiating an air of success. He looked like a completely different man from the one at home, who dressed plainly and constantly worried about money. My son, Finn, rushed over and hugged his leg. “Daddy, can we go play at Summer’s today?” Drake bent down, ruffling his hair. “Today we’re going home to be with Mommy.” But my child, whom I had carried for nine months and brought into the world at great risk, pouted. “I don’t want to go home.” “Summer’s house is my home. She’s pretty and smells nice.” “Mommy smells of cooking oil, she’s stinky, I don’t like her.” My breath hitched, and my blood felt like it had frozen in my veins. So, my beloved husband had been faking his poverty all along. And the child I had poured my heart and soul into raising was lying to me. All my sacrifices for this family, in their eyes, were no more than stale leftovers. A bitter joke. I stood rooted to the spot, watching them drive away. My phone chimed—the special ringtone I’d set for Drake. “I’m working late tonight. I’ve picked up Finn. You’ve had a tough day, get some good rest.” The Bentley’s taillights vanished around the corner, and I sank to the ground, my heart aching. My fingers clenched, nails digging into my palms, drawing blood. It didn’t hurt. Not nearly as much as the torment I’d endured these past three years. 2 After he announced his bankruptcy, I decided to go out and work to help pay off his debts. The factory assembly line, twelve hours of non-stop work. Amidst the roar of machinery, my once soft palms became red and swollen. In just three months, my joints began to deform. Bending them felt like rusty hinges, the pain so intense it kept me awake all night. But one salary couldn’t even begin to cover the massive debts my husband owed. In the evenings, I’d also set up a stall at the night market, selling clothes. The winter wind was like a knife, chilling me to the bone. To sell more clothes, I’d stay out until the early hours of the morning, night after night. One day, six months later, I looked in the mirror and realized the person staring back was no longer the familiar me. My eyes were shadowed with dark circles, my hair was disheveled, and my skin was rough and dull. The cramped apartment was so small, there was barely room to turn around. The cooking fumes never dissipated, giving me a persistent pharyngitis. Every change of season, I’d cough until I felt like my lungs would tear. Back then, my son would feel for my efforts. “Mommy, don’t work so hard. I won’t drink milk anymore.” “Mommy, once Daddy’s business gets better, you can rest.” “Mommy, you’re my favorite person in the whole world.” I genuinely believed life would gradually improve. I believed Drake was the partner who would shield me from life’s storms. I believed Finn was the precious child who would always love and care for me. But today, I finally discovered. Every hardship I had endured, they had orchestrated. I returned to the villa district, standing in the shadow of the outer wall. The lights inside the house were glaringly bright. Through the glass windows, I saw the three of them, looking more like a family than ever. Summer leaned against Drake’s shoulder, her eyes crinkling with laughter. Drake carefully caressed her slightly swollen belly, feeding her bright red strawberries. His movements were tender, almost dripping with affection. Finn sat beside them, playing with a limited-edition toy car. Their voices drifted faintly. “Daddy, will Summer have a baby brother or sister for me?” His eyes sparkled. Drake ruffled his hair. “Either is fine, you’ll all play together, okay?” Summer smiled, handing him a glass of juice. “Will you protect them both when they’re here?” “Yes!” I bit down hard on my lip, the metallic taste of blood spreading in my mouth. Their words were like steel needles, piercing my heart. But I couldn’t understand why they, father and son, would do this to me! Back then, Drake was just a poor boy. We met, fell in love, and grew together in college. After graduation, he came to ask for my hand, only to face my father’s fierce opposition. My father tried to pay him off, to make him leave me. A wad of cash, like a slap across his face. He, in his faded, threadbare shirt, clenched his fists, knuckles white, and turned to leave. I cried, chasing after him. That night, in a dimly lit room, we lay naked together, and he promised me. “One day, I’ll make your father look at me differently.” I believed him. Defying my family’s objections, I resolutely married Drake. I poured all my savings into his business, helping him climb to the peak of success, step by step. But now, it all felt like a cruel joke. Their laughter and joy were a mockery. A mockery of my foolishness. A mockery of my sacrifices. A mockery of my life, which had been a complete farce from beginning to end. 3 After standing in the cold wind for half the night, I developed a fever. Drake returned with Finn and found me curled up in a ball on the bed. Ignoring my sweat-soaked state, he pulled me into his arms. “Lynn, what’s wrong?” “I’m taking you to the hospital.” His voice, trembling with alarm, didn’t sound fake. But why would he do this to me? I shook my head, pushing away the man who had betrayed me. I looked at Finn, who stood behind Drake. I reached out my arm to him, hoping for a comforting hug. “Finn, Mommy’s tired.” I refused to believe that the child I had raised would treat his own mother this way. But he flinched, pulling back abruptly. My hand froze in mid-air. This was the child I had sacrificed my own meals for, to ensure he had milk. The child I worried about while shivering at the night market. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, a pain beyond words. Drake gently tucked my hand back under the covers. “If you’re tired, rest properly. Don’t worry about the kids.” His palm was warm, but I felt a chilling cold. Looking at the false tenderness in his eyes, I inexplicably blurted out. “Finn, if Daddy and I ever split up, who would you want to live with?” Finn and Drake both stared at me, their eyes wide with shock. They didn’t understand why I was asking. But Finn didn’t hesitate to answer. “Daddy!” “Daddy’s so successful, he can get me a big house.” “Mommy just cleans and cooks at home, and she smells awful.” Tears instantly welled up in my eyes, soaking Drake’s pants as they streamed down my face. He held me tightly, comforting me with a smile. “The kid’s still small, don’t take what he says seriously.” “We’ll never split up, don’t ask such silly questions again.” His embrace, once my safe harbor, now felt like a noose around my neck. In the middle of the night, I woke up thirsty and heard hushed voices outside the door. “Summer is just an outsider, Mommy is your family.” “How could you say that about Mommy?” I lay on the cold bed, silently weeping. So, he knew we were a family all along. But I didn’t want this family anymore. The next day, I went to work at the villa as usual. I installed surveillance cameras in inconspicuous corners throughout the house. Late that night, Drake still hadn’t come home. After tucking Finn into bed, I opened the monitoring app on my phone. The villa lights were still glaringly bright. Summer leaned against Drake’s chest, her fingers tracing patterns on his muscular torso. “When are you going to tell her the truth?” Drake, cigarette dangling from his lips, paused. His voice was low. “The day after tomorrow is her birthday. I’ll tell her the truth then.” “It’ll be her birthday surprise.” “She’s suffered enough these past few years, and I’ve had my satisfaction.” “I’ll give her back the company and the house, and then give her a grand wedding.” Summer’s eyes showed a flicker of something ugly. “I get it, she sacrificed a lot for you back then. I understand your love for her.” “But I love you too, and I don’t mind being your secret lover forever.” Her slender nails traced across Drake’s bare chest, her voice incredibly soft. “As long as I can stay by your side.” But Drake abruptly pushed her away. “You and I are just a temporary distraction.” “Once the baby is born, I’ll find a reason to bring her home, and Lynn will raise her.” “As for you, I’ll give you a sum of money, and you are never to appear before us again.” “Remember your place.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394698”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Ten years into our marriage, I discovered my husband was buying a ninety-million-dollar pink diamond for his mistress. I asked for a divorce. He dragged me to the family’s private cemetery and pointed at a tombstone already engraved with both our names. “Vivienne,” he said, “there is no divorce between us. There is only death.” The next day, I was placed under house arrest. My bank cards were frozen. My access to the company was revoked. And his mistress, heavily pregnant, moved into the Presidential Suite aboard the cruise ship I had named after myself. It was only later that I learned the truth. That kidnapping and fire that nearly killed me when I was nineteen. He had arranged it himself. If he wanted to lock me in a grave, then I would turn the entire ship into his coffin. Vivienne’s POV Everyone in Los Angeles knew that Lucas Holt had once loved me like a man possessed. When I was nineteen, to pull me out of the basement of that hellhole boarding school, he drove a truck straight through the perimeter wall. When he was clawing his way to the top, to win the first shipping route that belonged to the two of us, he pressed a gun to his own temple at the negotiating table and bet his life on it. After we married, he named the most expensive luxury cruise ship in his fleet after me. As if broadcasting his love for me via satellite to the entire world wasn’t enough. For ten years, he paved every road with his own blood and carried me into legend within this world. And now, he tossed a ninety-million-dollar receipt into the fireplace. A receipt for a pink diamond bought for his mistress. Then he warned me in a cold, flat voice. “It’s just keeping up appearances. Stay out of it.” He didn’t even look up at me. “It’s necessary PR management, Vivienne. Since when did you become so petty?” I slid off the diamond ring, which he’d won at a Vegas poker table the night he proposed to me. I slammed it down on the mahogany desk, along with the divorce agreement. “If it’s a liability, then cut it loose. Lucas, I want a divorce.” Lucas finally looked up. His eyes were dark and full of something cold. He grabbed my wrist hard enough that I felt my bones grind, and dragged me toward the door. “You want a divorce? Fine. We’ll discuss it at the cemetery.” He drove like a man with nothing to lose. We ended up at the iron gates of the Holt family’s private burial grounds. He hauled me to a massive black granite headstone. Both our names were already carved into it. “Take a good look.” He pointed to the freshly dug pit beside it. His voice was as cold as the wind sweeping through that place. “Vivienne, between us, there is no divorce. There is only burial.” That was the wedding gift he had prepared for me. A headstone with our names on it. He released my arm, turned, got back in the car, and left me standing alone at the cemetery gate. Rain ran down my hair and dripped into my collar. Ice cold. I walked down the mountain road alone. The cemetery sat on a hillside outside the city. At that hour, there wasn’t a cab in sight. I was wearing nothing but a thin silk blouse. The downpour soaked it through in seconds, pressing the fabric flat against my spine. With every step, the red-soled heels felt like walking on knife blades. How fitting. It had been a rainy night just like this when I was nineteen. The fire at the school. Lucas crashing through in that truck, pulling me out of the flames, and stripping off his own bulletproof vest to wrap around me. He had said, “Vivienne, as long as I’m here, I will never let a single drop of rain touch you.” Tonight, he pointed at a grave with my name on it and told me only death could part us. Then he threw me out like garbage into the rain. Two beams of light swept up from behind me, stretching my shadow out long and thin against the road. A black Rolls-Royce Cullinan shot past. Lucas’s car. The wheels tore through a puddle and sent a spray of black mud across my calves. The car didn’t stop. It accelerated. Through the tinted bulletproof windows, I could just make out Lucas in the driver’s seat, phone pressed to his ear. His brow was furrowed. His expression – careful, anxious, tender in a way I hadn’t seen from him in three years. So that was where all his urgency and his glances back had gone. He’d been giving them to someone else all along. By the time I made it back to the house, two hours had passed. Soaked to the bone, I pushed open the front door and was met with a warmth that felt like a slap. I reached down to take off my shoes, and stopped.

Vivienne’s POV Right beside my gray house slippers sat a pair of pink fluffy ones. Not the disposable kind you’d put out for a guest. These were expensive, personal – the kind that implied permanence. They were pressed intimately against Lucas’s black leather slippers, the two pairs nudging each other at the toes, almost playfully. Lucas had severe OCD when it came to his personal space. He wouldn’t even let his award-winning Persian cat set foot in certain rooms. And yet these shoes stood there like a declaration of war. The air was thick with a cloying, sweet fragrance – some cheap, aggressive floral perfume that had completely smothered the cool, woody scent I always wore. At the cemetery, he told me only death could separate us. In this house, he was letting another woman build a nest in his territory while I was still alive. “So the living get pushed out, and the dead get to keep their hole.” I picked up the pink slippers without expression and dropped them in the trash can by the door. I walked into the living room and found a same-day delivery package sitting in the center of the coffee table. No sender information. I opened it. Inside was a new iPad. The screen lit up on its own, and a video began to play. I recognized the background immediately. It was the Presidential Suite at the top of the Vivienne – the cruise ship. The one Lucas had once promised would always belong only to me. The camera swept the room. The minimalist, cool-toned décor I had chosen had been torn apart. A young woman wearing my custom-made silk robe was directing workers to paint the walls pink. “That light is too dim. Replace it with one of those massive crystal chandeliers.” She turned toward the camera and flashed a big V-sign with her fingers. She was twirling a pen between her fingers. A Montblanc. Limited edition. The one I had used to sign the Holt Group’s first billion-dollar shipping contract. It meant everything to me. I had turned the entire study upside down looking for it just days ago. And there it was – spinning between her fingers like a cheap toy. That feeling of being watched, being consumed, being picked apart – it was colder than anything the rain outside could do to me. I opened the photo album on the tablet. I scrolled. Page after page of prenatal records. The ultrasound images were clear. The fetal outline unmistakable. At the bottom of the report, in the signature field, someone had signed in a bold, slashing hand. Lucas Holt. His signature pressed hard into the page. In the notes column, a line in bold:”Holt Family Firstborn – Maximum Guardian Priority”. There was one more item in the video folder. Recorded twenty minutes ago. Right around the time he had left me standing in the cemetery. In the footage, Lucas was lying with his head resting against the woman’s stomach, his ear pressed to the curve of it. His eyes were closed. His expression was reverent – like a man at prayer. The hand resting on her belly bore several fresh red marks across the back – scratches left by my nails when he had grabbed my wrist at the cemetery. The cold, brutal expression he had worn in front of me had melted into something gentle. Something I had never once seen him give me. I lurched into the bathroom and retched over the toilet. There was nothing in my stomach. It was all bile. The revulsion hit harder than the rage. That was my husband. The man who had once fought his way out of a dead-end slum at my side, back to back, through blood and bodies. Looking at him now felt like watching a dog in heat, driven by nothing but the need to breed. The iPad vibrated. A FaceTime request popped up. I answered. Bianca White’s face filled the screen – all dewy skin and collagen-plump cheeks. In the background, a fetal monitor beeped in a slow, steady rhythm. “Nice sound, isn’t it?” Her voice was sweet. Her eyes were vicious – like needles dipped in poison. “The doctor says this is the strongest heartbeat the Holt family has ever produced. Yours was just barren ground, Vivienne. Lucas needed somewhere worth planting.” Even the Vivienne no longer had a place for Vivienne herself.

Vivienne’s POV The video call stayed connected. From somewhere off-screen on her end, Lucas’s voice drifted through. “Bianca, drink your milk.” That voice. Soft. Careful. It belonged to a stranger. The venom in Bianca’s face evaporated in an instant. She replaced it with a fragile, startled expression and mouthed silently at the camera. He’s here. I was the only audience for this little show. “Tonight is the family dinner. Bring the heir and let the families meet him. Make sure you save me a good seat.” Bianca ended the call. Tonight was the Holt family’s most important annual gathering. It was a deeply tradition-bound event. Bloodlines, inheritance, legacy. And she was planning to attend? This was the ultimate provocation against me as his legal wife. It was a slap in the face to the entire Holt family name. Before I could put the tablet down, the doorbell rang. The old family butler led a procession of staff through the front door, each one carrying a formal evening gown. “Mrs. Holt.” The butler’s expression was stiff – professionally blank as he bowed. “Mr. Holt has instructed that tonight’s family dinner will include all board members and extended family. He asks that you be present and conduct yourself as befitting the lady of the house. The family’s reputation must be maintained.” That woman was going to walk in there and parade her belly around, and he wanted me to smile and cover for him. Lucas. What a perfectly shameless calculation. The butler made a point of presenting a custom-tailored men’s suit. “This is what Mr. Holt will be wearing tonight.” I reached out and ran my fingers over the fabric. Expensive. Smooth. Cold to the touch. Such fine material. What a waste, draping it over something so rotten underneath. “Leave it there.” The butler set it down and led the staff back out. I walked into the dressing room and picked up the small scissors used for trimming cigars. This suit had been made three years ago, when I flew to Savile Row myself to have it commissioned from an old master tailor – a celebration of Lucas claiming his position at the top. The cufflinks bore the Holt family crest. Every engraved line had been chosen by me, with care. Snip. The blades came down. The sound of expensive fabric tearing was almost like a scream. I cut mechanically. One stroke after another. In that video, he had been lying against another woman’s body, wearing different clothes. If he was no longer fit to be called a man, then he didn’t deserve the skin of one. When Lucas returned, the dressing room looked like the aftermath of a storm. Shredded silk and wool lay scattered across the carpet like black snow – the shattered remains of dignity. I was sitting in the middle of it all, turning the scissors over in my hands. He frowned slightly. No anger. He didn’t even glance at the ruins on the floor. “Derek, bring a backup suit.” He stepped over the scraps, walked to the mirror, and began loosening his tie. There was a faint mark on his neck – barely there, covered with concealer, but visible under the bright lights of the dressing room. He had ignored the entire wreckage around him and taken care to hide a small smudge of lipstick. “I hear someone’s planning to bring the heir to the family dinner tonight?” I flicked a scrap of fabric off the floor with the tip of the scissors. Lucas adjusted his tie clip in the mirror, unhurried. “Bianca is carrying a child. I’m bringing her to meet my grandfather. Let the old man enjoy himself. Don’t make a scene on a good night.” He stated his illegitimate child’s existence as though it were a perfectly reasonable family arrangement. “There won’t be anything to enjoy.” I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it at his freshly changed trousers. It was a surgical consent form. There were bloodstains on the edge. Lucas picked it up and smoothed it open. When he saw the hospital letterhead and the words Termination of Pregnancy, his pupils contracted sharply. “I had someone take care of it for her. A little housecleaning.” My voice was flat. I watched his back go rigid. “She should be on the operating table right now.” “Vivienne!” He spun around with a shout and grabbed me by the throat, slamming me back against the closet doors. “That was my blood. How could you-” The veins on the back of his hand stood out. His eyes went red. Watching him unravel like that, over an unborn child that wasn’t even mine to lose, I suddenly found it almost funny. So much for two people who were supposed to have each other’s backs. One instinct, and all of it crumbled like wet paper.

Vivienne’s POV The pressure closed around my throat. My lungs compressed, air forced out in slow, grinding increments. I stared into Lucas’s bloodshot eyes. Only once before had I seen that look on his face. When I was nineteen. The school was burning. He had torn through scorched brick with his bare hands, eyes red, clawing through the rubble for any sign that I was still alive. And now, for the sake of an embryo, he was using those same hands to choke the woman he had once nearly destroyed himself to save. The man who saved me had become the man trying to kill me. “What’s the rush, Lucas? Worried about that empty burial plot?” Even with his hands around my throat, I forced out a cold laugh. “You said it yourself – only my name goes on that headstone. Whatever she gives birth to will just be a bastard with no claim to anything.” His fingers tightened. I could feel my windpipe flexing under the pressure. I held his gaze and delivered the only warning that mattered. “Lucas. If you can’t finish the job, I will have that double grave filled in and leave you with nowhere to be buried.” Something warm dripped onto the back of his hand. He hesitated. Looked down. I must have gripped the scissors too hard earlier – my palm had been cut, and blood was running down over his cuff. He released my throat like he’d been burned. I slid down the closet door, coughing hard. Lucas forced the rage back down behind his face. “It’s done, it’s done. It probably wouldn’t have survived anyway.” He didn’t believe a word of that. Neither did I. But his body moved before his pride could stop it. He turned, grabbed a bottle of high-proof whiskey from the bar cart, twisted the cap off with practiced ease. “Give me your hand.” No matter that they were standing in a mansion. No matter that the medicine cabinet was stocked with the best that money could buy. Under pressure, he always defaulted to the most raw, most instinctive method he knew. Back in the days when we were hiding from enemies in the slums, there was never any medicine. He would grab the strongest liquor he could find and pour it over my knife wounds. That burning sensation was proof we were still alive. Dark amber liquid mixed with blood and dripped onto the floor. The alcohol hit the cut like a lit match. It brought me sharply back to myself. He kept his head down, rinsing the wound, muttering curses under his breath. “How did you manage to cut yourself this badly.” A moment ago he genuinely wanted to choke me to death. Now he was tending to my hand. Killing me and saving me in the same breath. Lucas Holt. You really are out of your mind. He wasn’t doing it out of tenderness. He was repairing damaged property. “Get off me.” I yanked my hand back and knocked the whiskey bottle to the floor. Glass exploded. The smell of aged whiskey mixed with blood spread across the room. “Don’t touch me.” I looked at him evenly. “Your hands were just on her stomach. They’re dirty.” Lucas looked at the broken glass on the floor. He was quiet for a moment. He didn’t blow up. He just pressed the intercom and called for the house doctor. Then his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and something shifted in his face. The hospital, most likely. If the procedure had gone through, he wouldn’t look like that. He didn’t say anything else about my hand. He turned and walked out, long strides, forgetting his jacket entirely – his whole posture radiating undisguised panic. That line about it’s done, it’s done – complete garbage. He still wanted that child.

Vivienne’s POV The following morning, I tried to leave for the office. In the garage, Lucas’s head of security was standing directly in front of my car. “It’s Mr. Holt’s order. Your hand is injured and you need to rest.” He kept his head slightly bowed. His tone was respectful and immovable in equal measure. “The deputy director will handle company matters for the time being. Your presence isn’t required.” Rest. That was house arrest. “Move.” I pressed the key fob for the sports car – the one I had purchased under my own name. Nothing happened. The guard offered a mild explanation. “All vehicles are currently undergoing GPS maintenance. They can’t be started at this time.” He was cutting off my legs. I went back inside to the study, opened my laptop, and logged into the family trust’s black account. I wanted to trace Bianca’s arrangements – the renovation costs for the Vivienne suite had to have come from here. I hit enter. A large red warning box filled the screen. “Administrator has revoked your access permissions.” He was shutting down my information channels. That account had always been completely open to me. He’d told me once, what’s mine is yours – you can move anything in the Holt Group, anytime. I took out my phone, switched to a personal backup SIM, and tried to call a rideshare. “Transaction failed. Card has been frozen.” I tried three more cards. Every single one declined. A text from the bank followed immediately:”Per account holder request, your supplementary cards have been suspended.” I checked the Wi-Fi signal. Even the home network password had been changed. Lucas was telling me something very clearly: without him, I was nothing. In this city, with no money, no car, no access to information, I was completely immobilized. This wasn’t punishment. This was conditioning. He wanted me docile. Dependent. Grateful for scraps. I threw my phone onto the sofa. You think you can cage me? Lucas, you’ve badly underestimated someone who clawed her way out of the gutter. The study door opened. Lucas walked in, a freshly lit cigar between his fingers. “Why did you cut off my access?” I demanded. He took a slow drag. The smoke curled between us, obscuring his expression. “Vivienne, you don’t need to dirty your hands with people like that.” He walked to the shredder beside the desk, picked up the second divorce agreement I had left on the table. “Stay home, let me handle what needs to be handled, and everything goes back to normal.” He laid down the law about staying home like he was scolding a dog that had slipped its leash. “Your cards will be unfrozen. I’ll have my assistant handle it.” Back to normal. Back to being your blind, deaf, obedient little wife? A mechanical whir. He fed the divorce papers into the shredder. Over the grinding of the machine, he said it again. “I told you. Until that grave is filled, this marriage stays intact.” The shredder went quiet. The study was dead silent. Those strips of paper were my last legal way out. If the legal route was blocked, and the financial pressure was already applied, then there was only one option left. The oldest trick in the book. Something had to bleed before he would wake up.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “369100”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #擦边Steamy #校园School #狼人Werewolf

At our engagement banquet, my fiancé Zachary’s assistant, Lily, dropped a half-bitten carrot into his bowl. Zachary, who had always been obsessive about cleanliness, just smiled — and put that saliva-coated carrot right into his mouth. I didn’t make a scene. I simply clapped my hands and had the servants bring out a large bucket of slop from the kitchen. I set it down in front of Zachary. “You love eating other people’s leftovers so much? Then eat your fill.” “Leave even one bite, and this engagement is off.” Zachary’s fork clattered to the floor. He shot up from his chair like he’d been launched from it. “Nina, don’t be angry — this is on me.” He stared at me, terrified I was about to say something even more final. The guests around us all turned to look, with that particular gleam in their eyes that said they were enjoying every second of this. Zachary’s face flushed deep red. His throat bobbed as he rushed to explain. “Lily just started as an intern a few days ago. She doesn’t know table manners yet.” “If I’d called her out right then and there, word would’ve gotten around that we bully newcomers. That would’ve looked terrible.” He reached for my hand, his voice going soft. “I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just didn’t want to kill the mood. I’ll discipline her from now on — I promise nothing like this will ever happen again.” I watched the panic flickering in his eyes and laughed — silently, coldly. I pulled my hand back and turned to my assistant, who had been standing nearby, keeping my tone flat. “Remove the bucket. Clear the rest of the banquet. Cancel all remaining events.” My assistant acknowledged the order. The sound of dishes and silverware being moved filled the banquet hall. Zachary’s face went even whiter. He looked like he wanted to say something, but I cut him off before he could. “Zachary. Clean up your act.” He froze. His lips moved, but in the end he didn’t dare push back. He just gave a small nod. I didn’t look at him again. I stood up and walked straight out of the banquet hall. The car ride home was completely silent. Zachary tried to speak several times. Each time, my cool stare stopped him cold. When we got back, I’d barely sat down before the doorbell rang. Zachary was standing outside, holding two gift bags, his posture stiff and straight. I reached over and pressed the door release. He walked in and set the bags on the entryway shelf — he didn’t dare bring them into the living room. “Nina, I wrote this for you.” He handed me a letter. “It’s all in there. I’ll cut off all personal contact with Lily going forward. I’ll reassign her project responsibilities to someone else entirely.” I didn’t take it. I just looked at him. He immediately set the letter on the coffee table, then fished his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and slid it across to me, screen-side up. “Take it. Go through whatever you want.” He added, “My messages with Lily are strictly work-related. Nothing else. Not a single thing.” I looked at his SnapChat. In the conversation with Lily, every message was business — timestamps scattered, content nothing but project updates. No casual greetings. No private chat. It was almost suspiciously clean. I didn’t pick up the phone. Zachary saw this and quickly spoke up again. “I know you’re hurt. I really was just trying to avoid making things awkward.” I knew exactly what that spotless message history meant. He’d prepared it in advance. “You don’t need to be so nervous,” I said, keeping my voice even. Zachary’s shoulders visibly relaxed. He shifted half a step closer, as if he wanted to reach out — then seemed to think better of it and stayed where he was. “Nina, can you forgive me?” He looked at me. “I’ll give you a proper explanation for what happened at the engagement party. I’ll deal with Lily. I promise.”

“Go home for now,” I said, not answering his question. “It’s late.” Zachary’s expression dimmed. He managed a weak reply. “Then I’ll come by tomorrow.” He backed toward the door. “I also brought some things you like to eat.” When I said nothing, he forced another apologetic smile before finally turning to leave. “I need you to look into two things,” I told my assistant directly. “First, everything on Lily’s background. Second, where Zachary’s money has been going for the last three months.” My assistant nodded quickly. I sat in the living room, staring at the letter on the coffee table. The handwriting was neat, the promises laid out point by point in careful detail — but I had no desire to even read it. Over the next three days, Zachary didn’t come back. He sent two messages a day — one in the morning, one at night — each one a brief account of his schedule. I didn’t reply to any of them. He didn’t push further. On the third afternoon, I was at my office going through project files when there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” Zachary pushed the door open and walked in, holding a document. He held it out to me. “Nina, take a look.” “It’s a copy of Lily’s resignation. I’ve already approved it.” I glanced at it. Lily’s signature was at the bottom, dated yesterday. Zachary’s sign-off was in the approval field, along with an official HR stamp from the Sinclair Group. “I also withheld her full month’s salary as a penalty for her behavior at the engagement banquet.” Zachary said it like he was expecting a gold star. “Is that satisfactory to you?” But when I still didn’t say anything, the smile on his face grew stiffer by the second. After a long silence, I finally said, quietly, “Let’s leave it at that.” He let out an audible breath of relief, nodded quickly, and stepped back. That same evening, my assistant delivered the report. Not long ago, Zachary had purchased a one-bedroom apartment in a high-end complex downtown — in Lily’s name. On top of that, he’d been making regular transfers to her private account. Enough to cover all of her living expenses. What I found most darkly ironic was a photograph included in the file. In it, Lily was wearing a watch on her wrist. That watch was the limited-edition piece I’d given Zachary for his birthday last year. Fewer than ten existed worldwide. I’d had someone track it down and bid on it at auction in Switzerland specifically for him. Zachary thought he’d hidden everything so well. What he didn’t know was that his every move had been under my watch all along. Not long after, both families arranged a dinner. “Nina, Zachary has already sincerely apologized. That little incident at the engagement party is behind us now — don’t dwell on it.” Mrs. Sinclair, who had been briefed on what happened, smiled warmly as she urged me to let it go. “The joint venture is already underway. We need to move forward on consolidating our interests — it’s better for everyone.” My father nodded and looked at Zachary. “Zachary, going forward you need to be more considerate of Nina. Nurture this relationship. And keep a close eye on the project.” Zachary stood immediately, giving a slight bow, his manner perfectly, impeccably humble. “You have my word. I’ll treat Nina right, and the project will run without a single issue.” He turned to me. “Nina, to give you peace of mind, I’ve had the preliminary review authority for the joint project transferred entirely to your team. I won’t interfere at all.” As he spoke, he reached into his briefcase and held out a document with both hands. “This is the formal transfer confirmation. My signature is already on it.” I didn’t reach for it right away. Instead, I looked at Zachary with something close to amusement.

Did he really think handing over control of this project would be enough to buy my silence? “It seems you’re quite sincere,” I said, keeping my voice light. Zachary’s face lit up. He thought I was going to let him off the hook. He lowered his head quickly. “Yes, Nina. I genuinely understand where I went wrong. This document is proof of my commitment.” My parents exchanged satisfied looks beside us. They were taken in completely — fooled by the act Zachary was putting on. “All right. Then I’ll give you another chance.” I spoke slowly. Zachary was overjoyed. Both sets of parents exhaled in relief. What none of them knew was that those words weren’t meant only for Zachary. They were meant for all of them. “Good, good — let’s put the past behind us. Here’s to a successful partnership going forward!” My father raised his glass. Everyone smiled. The atmosphere warmed up again. The dinner ended, and Zachary walked me to the door. “Let me drive you home, Nina.” He said it as he reached out toward me. I stepped to the side. Zachary’s hand froze in mid-air, his expression stiffening. “Nina, what is that supposed to mean? I fired Lily. I handed over the project. What more do you want?” A flash of frustration crossed his face. But I just looked at him calmly — the way you’d look at something you’d found in a trash can. “Zachary, something that’s been dirtied doesn’t become clean just because you rinse it off. Especially when it comes to a person’s character.” Zachary stared at me like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his jaw twitching. I didn’t bother addressing it. I simply told him, “Don’t forget — this is the first chance I’ve given you. Don’t waste it.” Then I turned and walked away. Zachary stood where he was. The expression on his face had gone dark. Don’t worry. This is only the beginning. Holding the preliminary review authority meant that the Sinclair Group was obligated to follow my lead on this project, no questions asked. And the first thing I did with that authority was put a hold on one of Zachary’s critical payments. The next morning. Zachary called me, his voice tight with urgency. “Nina, why was the startup funding returned? This is going to throw off the entire schedule!” I put him on speaker and took my time looking at the photos that had just been printed out on my desk. “The receiving party had compliance issues. To minimize risk, I had our finance team run a new review.” My tone was perfectly even. “What? That vendor has been working with us for years —” “Didn’t you say you were leaving this to me?” One sentence, and Zachary went quiet. After a long pause, he said, stiffly, “But — but —” “No buts. Process is process.” I hung up. I looked at the photos on the desk and let out a cold laugh. My private investigator had just sent these over. The Lily who was supposedly terminated was currently living in that upscale apartment. Her wrist — with that watch — was captured clearly in the shot. And Zachary’s car was parked right outside the building. Running the project dry on one hand, keeping his little bird in a gilded cage on the other. Zachary. You’ve got some nerve. Over the following week, I turned a blind eye to everything — the business dealings, and Zachary’s secret meetings with Lily. When Zachary played the role of the devoted fiancé, I played along with just enough indifference to keep him guessing. And then Friday night arrived.

A charity auction gala was being held — one of the industry’s big annual events. Zachary, as my publicly announced fiancé, was expected to attend with me. He was waiting downstairs early. He’d even thoughtfully prepared a bouquet — of lilies, which I can’t stand. “Nina, there’s a sapphire necklace tonight that I know you’d love. Whatever it costs, I’ll bid on it for you — sound good?” He held the flowers out to me. I took them. Then dropped them straight into the trash can. “I like daisies.” Zachary went rigid with embarrassment. He scrambled after me into the venue, tripping over himself with apologies. Inside the gala, the city’s elite had gathered. The moment we walked in, admiring looks followed us from every direction. Zachary straightened up and leaned into it. He loved being the center of attention. His grip on my arm tightened slightly without him even noticing. As if he really were the flawless heir to the Sinclair family he pretended to be. But all of this was exactly where I needed it to be. Just when Zachary thought everything was going perfectly — that tonight was his night to shine — Something unexpected happened. His phone started buzzing relentlessly. He covered it quickly, but not before I caught a glimpse of the caller ID. It was Lily. He tried to pretend nothing was happening. I tilted my head and smiled. “Aren’t you going to answer? What if it’s urgent?” Zachary looked uncomfortable. Sweat was already appearing at his hairline. He forced a laugh. “It’s nothing. Spam call.” “Is it?” I smiled. “Funny — I could’ve sworn I recognized that number. Wasn’t that your assistant you supposedly let go?” Zachary’s face changed. He glanced around quickly, his voice dropping into a panicked hiss. “Nina, what are you talking about? I haven’t been in contact with her —” But before he could finish explaining, a commotion broke out near the entrance. A figure came stumbling in. “Zachary! Help me, Zachary!” She screamed it without caring who heard. Not even the security guards could stop her. By the time Zachary registered what was happening, his face had gone the color of old ash. It was Lily. Every head in the room turned. Whispers rippled through the crowd. “Nina, I — I honestly have no idea what’s going on!” Zachary stared at me, completely rigid. Of course he didn’t know what was going on. Because I was the one who arranged it. When Lily spotted Zachary, she broke down completely. She made a beeline straight for our table. “Zachary! I got thrown out of my apartment — my bank account’s been frozen — I have nowhere to go!” “You have to do something!” She dropped to her knees at his feet, crying like the world was ending. Zachary’s fists clenched until his knuckles went white. The people around us started murmuring. “Isn’t that the assistant he fired?” “I thought she was long gone — why is she still causing scenes?” “Wait — is anyone else looking at that watch she’s wearing? Isn’t that the one Nina gave Zachary for his birthday last year? That thing is worth hundreds of thousands —” Zachary finally snapped into action. He kicked Lily’s hand away and snarled, “What’s wrong with you? I barely even know you — get away from me!” Lily stumbled back. She looked up at him like she’d been slapped. “So you really were lying to me this whole time, weren’t you?” “You told me if I was patient, once things blew over you’d come back for me!” “That apartment — you bought it for me! And now that you’re done with me you’re taking it back? You played me from the start!” She screamed it for the entire room to hear. The words detonated like a grenade. I looked at Zachary with a cold smile.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “369101”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #擦边Steamy #校园School #狼人Werewolf

It was April Fools’ Day when a delivery guy knocked on my door asking me to sign for a package. I waved him off. “I didn’t order any pads. My period just ended two days ago. Is this some kind of April Fools’ joke, or did you get the wrong address?” The guy kept his head down, checking his phone. “No mistake. This address is correct. The recipient is listed as Mrs. Archer — left by a Mr. Damien Archer.” A few minutes later, my husband’s assistant came rushing over, drenched in sweat, bowing over and over. “I’m so sorry, ma’am! These were meant for my girlfriend. I accidentally put down your address instead of hers. That’s totally on me!” Before he even finished talking, our front door swung open. My husband, Damien, walked out and draped his arm around my shoulders. He turned to look at his assistant, his expression darkening. “How do you handle anything? Didn’t I tell you to have it delivered tonight? You can’t even get something this simple right.” Then he pinched my cheek, his tone instantly softening. “Don’t listen to him, babe. These are actually for you. I was going to wrap them up as part of a little surprise, but he ruined it.” I smiled and waved everyone off. Once they were gone, the smile dropped from my face. I’d always bought pads in bulk — always the overnight kind, because I needed the extra coverage. But out of those nine packs of expensive, brand-name pads, eight of them were regular daytime ones.

When we got inside, Damien said he was tired and wanted to shower. The moment he stepped into the bathroom, I walked straight to the living room and picked up his phone. The passcode was still my birthday. I went through all his messages. Aside from work stuff, his conversations with other women — coworkers, employees — were all short and cold. Just “yeah” and “okay” type replies. His social media was the same — nothing but work updates. Not a single trace of anything suspicious. I sat on the couch, staring into space. Was I just being paranoid? I was thirty now — maybe I was reading too much into things. The shower turned off. I quickly cleared his search history and put the phone back exactly where I’d found it. Damien came out toweling his hair, steam still rising off his skin. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing his damp head against my neck. “Did you miss me?” My body stiffened. I pushed him away half-heartedly. “You’re still wet. You’re getting me all damp.” “So what?” He leaned in more, hands starting to wander, his lips brushing my ear, my neck. “Let’s go to bed early tonight…” Damien had never been one to hold back in that department. When the mood struck him, he went for it — I’d known that since day one. Even when I was on my period and feeling off, he’d sweet-talk and tease until I found another way to help him. But just as his lips were about to reach mine, something snapped me back to reality. Those nine packs of pads felt like a needle lodged in my brain. It was around last month that things had changed. Whenever I was on my period, he’d completely stopped pushing. Every evening when he got home, it was the same line: “Long day. You must be tired too. Get some rest.” I’d actually thought he was getting more thoughtful. Now, looking back, every single thing felt wrong. I shoved him away and asked, keeping my voice casual: “Damien, what made you suddenly think to buy pads for me? You’ve never bothered with that before.”

He paused for just a second, then reached over and flicked my nose. “You’re so silly. It’s a holiday, babe.” His voice was warm and indulgent. “I wanted to stock up on essentials for my girl. Is that a crime? It’s not like I haven’t bought them for you before.” He stretched out on his side of the bed, lazily twirling a strand of my hair around his fingers. “Besides, I’ve noticed you always buy them on sale around this time of year and stockpile them. This year, you don’t have to worry about it. I took care of it.” I kept my eyes on him. “Then why this brand? And why did you get so many daytime ones?” “Everyone online says this brand is good. Light and breathable.” He answered immediately, his eyes never flickering. “I’ve seen you buy the thick cotton ones. Thought you might want to try something different. And the daytime kind works on regular days too, not just during your period. More convenient.” As he spoke, he reached over to his nightstand and pulled out a small blue velvet box. “And of course, that’s not all.” He handed it to me, looking a little pleased with himself. “You didn’t think I’d only get you pads for the holiday, did you? Open it.” Inside was a pearl necklace. The pearls were large and perfectly round, with a warm, lustrous glow. One look and you could tell it wasn’t cheap. “South Sea pearls. They’ll look beautiful on you.” He lifted the necklace out and moved to clasp it around my neck. “Do you like it?” I stared at those cold, round beads and didn’t move. “What’s wrong?” He looked at me. “Nothing.” I closed the lid and set the box aside. “It’s expensive, I’m sure. It’s just… I think I mentioned before that I don’t really like pearls.” “Did you?” Damien blinked, thinking for a moment. “I don’t remember that. But women can never have too much jewelry. Every piece counts. Look at any woman worth her salt — they all have pearls.” My heart sank, piece by piece. He didn’t remember. When he was pursuing me hardest, I’d told him about my past. After my mom died, my dad moved on fast — with a woman he’d been seeing on the side. She drained most of what was left of our family’s money, then showed up at our house wearing a thick strand of round pearl bracelets, like she owned the place. She drove me out, and I ended up growing up in a group home. That year, in the middle of a snowstorm, I’d cried and told him: “I hate pearls. Every time I see them, I think of that woman. And of my dad, who threw me away.” He’d held me so tight it hurt, and swore: “I will never let you see a single pearl for the rest of your life. I’ll make sure you never have to think about any of that again.” And now, he was holding out a pearl necklace and saying: “I don’t remember that.” “Thank you, honey.” I forced a smile and took the box. “My stomach’s acting up a little. You go to sleep first.” I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door. The pads weren’t for me. He’d given me jewelry I’d specifically told him I hated. Damien was lying. I’d already checked his phone and found nothing. But wait — there was one more thing. There was a name in his contacts that stood out from all the rest. Jade. A college student he sponsored — a girl who’d grown up in poverty and earned her way into a top university in the city. I had been the one who’d agreed to support her. I remembered her — small and thin, a little timid when she’d come to dinner at our place once. Quiet about most things, but her eyes lit up when she talked about school. Damien had said at the time: “That girl’s got a real fire in her. Reminds me of you back in the day.” So why did he have at least some kind of message history with every other woman in his contacts — But with Jade, nothing? Not a single message? Her chat log was completely blank. Clean as glass after a rainstorm. You could see straight through it. Too clean.

The next day, I found Jade’s contact in my own phone. Her profile photo was a silhouette of a girl reading, just the side of her face. Her social media was mostly library corners, open books, a cup of tea. I scrolled down slowly. Then my finger stopped. The most recent post. Uploaded yesterday afternoon. Period cramps are the worst. Can’t focus on anything. Good thing my man is taking care of me~ The photo showed a steaming mug of hot milk on a natural wood desk. I stared at it for a few seconds, then zoomed in. In the corner of the desk, partially cut off by the frame, was a cardboard box. On the corner of the box, clearly visible, was the logo of the same expensive pad brand. I counted — at least eight packs visible. And beside them, one opened pack that looked like it had just been used. So that was it. The desire he’d been holding back during my period had been redirected — toward another woman entirely. That afternoon, I did something I never did. I showed up at Damien’s office. What I walked in on made my vision go red. Jade was sitting on Damien’s lap, wearing a school uniform, arms wrapped around his neck. They were kissing like they had all the time in the world. His hand rested on her waist. The air in the room was thick. I crossed the room in seconds, grabbed Jade by the hair, and yanked her off his lap. She stumbled and nearly fell. I raised my hand and slapped her. The sound cracked through the office. Then I turned to Damien. He’d gotten to his feet, his expression dark. I raised my hand to slap him too — but he grabbed my wrist. “Rachel, what is wrong with you? Why aren’t you home? You’re supposed to pick up our son from school. What are you doing storming into my office?” Not a shred of guilt. Like he wasn’t the one who’d done anything wrong. I wrenched my hand free, my voice breaking. “Damien, you remember we have a son? You could do this here and not think about your wife and kid for even one second?” Jade pressed her hand to her cheek and shuffled to Damien’s side. She tugged lightly at his sleeve, then turned to me and bowed her head. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be angry with him. It’s my fault. I’m the one who fell for him. It’s nothing to do with him — if you’re going to blame someone, blame me.” I pointed right at her. “Jade, I chose to help you because you’d worked so hard to get here from nothing. I wanted to give you a real chance to build your own life. And this is what you do with it?” “You used your position as someone he sponsors to go after a married man. Do you have any conscience at all?” Jade suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, wrapping her arms around my legs. Her tears were falling fast, the red mark from my slap still vivid on her cheek — but her eyes were defiant. “Ma’am, I know this is wrong. But what Damien and I have is real. Loving someone isn’t a crime. And if we’re really in love — doesn’t that mean you’re the one who doesn’t belong anymore? The one who isn’t loved is always the outsider.” My stomach lurched. I stepped back, trying to shake her off. “Let go of me. Don’t touch me.” But then Jade let out a sharp cry and clutched her stomach. Her knees buckled. She crumpled to the floor. “Jade!” Damien’s face went pale. He’d turned away a moment earlier to close the office door — he hadn’t seen me push her, but he’d heard me tell her not to touch me. When he spun back around, Jade was on the ground. “Jade? What happened? Are you okay?” She curled against his chest, tears sliding into her hair. “I’m okay… my stomach… it hurts a little. Don’t blame her. I lost my balance…” Damien looked up at me. The warmth in his eyes had been replaced by something cold and sharp. “She’s like this and you still pushed her? What happened to you, Rachel? When did you become like this?”

He lifted Jade carefully and laid her on the couch. “You saw her fall on her own!” Damien ignored me completely, calling out toward the door: “Marcus, get in here!” His assistant Marcus pushed the door open, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Hold her.” Marcus flinched, then walked over to me and said quietly, not meeting my eyes: “I’m sorry, ma’am…” Then he took hold of my arm. Damien stood beside the couch, his expression empty of anything warm. “Kneel down and apologize to Jade. Do that, and we’ll call this even.” I stood frozen, staring at him. “What… what did you just say?” “She already deals with cramps. She’s not strong. And you hit her and shoved her.” Damien said it slowly, each word deliberate. “I’m telling you to kneel down and apologize to her.” “Damien!” My voice was shaking so badly I barely recognized it. “You want me to… kneel down? For her?” In that moment, the man standing in front of me felt like a complete stranger. It was like something cracked open in my chest, and cold air was rushing in through the hole. He scowled, impatient. “Are you deaf?” “Do you remember what you said when you were chasing me?” My tears finally broke through. I couldn’t hold them back anymore. “You said you couldn’t stand to see me upset even a little. At our wedding, you carried me the whole way down the aisle because you were afraid my feet would hurt in my heels.” From the couch, Jade let out a sharp, perfectly timed gasp of pain. I looked at her. “Drop the act. Have some self-respect.” “Rachel!” Damien snapped. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved down hard. My knees hit the marble floor. The pain shot straight through me. I cried out. He wasn’t done. He seized my jaw, forcing my face up toward his. His grip was crushing. “Say one more word about her. I dare you.” He leaned in close, his voice cold and cutting. “You keep throwing around words like sponsored student. You keep calling her shameless. Rachel — who do you think you are? Don’t forget: you were a charity case too. I’m the one who paid for your education.” My breath stopped. “You got where you are by getting into my bed.” He stared into my eyes, the corner of his mouth curling into something ugly. “What, now that you’ve got the ring and the title, you’ve forgotten how you got here? You actually think you’re somebody?” “Damien…” My voice came out ragged. Hollow. “You were the one who waited outside my school for three months. You said you admired me. You said you loved my spirit and felt for everything I’d been through. You said you loved me. You said you wanted to marry me and give me a home.” “You were the one who begged me to say yes. I gave up a graduate school scholarship abroad because of you. I stayed home and built a life around you.” I was nearly screaming, my vision blurred with tears. “And now you’re telling me I slept my way up?” Damien’s grip on my jaw loosened slightly, but the contempt in his eyes only deepened. “What else would you call it? Look at yourself right now, Rachel. You’re no different from a woman throwing a fit in the street. You got married, had a kid, and figured that meant you had a meal ticket for life.” “I want a divorce.” I shoved his hand away with everything I had and tried to push myself to my feet. “I can’t do this anymore. Not one more day.” Damien looked down at me, and let out a short, derisive laugh. “You think I care that much? Fine. Get divorced. But don’t come crying to me after.” He leaned down until his mouth was at my ear, his voice quiet and vicious. “Rachel, without the title, without my name behind you — you look around this city and tell me which company would hire you. Without me, you are nothing.” The hole in my chest kept filling with cold air. At some point, the pain went so deep it turned numb. I reached up and wiped my face hard. “Damien. I want a divorce. Right now. Today.” He went still for a moment — probably hadn’t expected me to mean it. “Alright. If that’s what you want.” He straightened up, smoothed out his sleeve where it had wrinkled, and put back on that cool, distant expression he wore so well. “You’ll learn soon enough.” He said nothing more to me. He turned and walked back to the couch, gently lifting Jade into his arms. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital.” Jade nestled into him, calm and content. As they passed me, she turned her head just slightly and, looking down at me still on the floor, gave me a small, silent smile. Then she tilted her head up and kissed him on the cheek, loud enough for me to hear. “You’re so good to me.” The door shut behind them. I pulled myself up slowly. I looked around the wrecked office, and somehow — I started to laugh. And then, in the middle of laughing, the tears came back. So the thing I thought had saved me — had been a joke all along. I held onto the couch and got to my feet. Dried my eyes. But there was one thing he’d forgotten. He hadn’t been the only one willing to help me back then.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “369102”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #擦边Steamy #校园School #狼人Werewolf

For three years, I built supply chains across Southeast Asia and carved out a billion-dollar empire for Liam Holt. The day I came back happened to be the third anniversary gala of Holt Group. I pushed open the banquet hall doors, still dusty from the road. But Liam was standing in the blazing light, arm-in-arm with the wealthy socialite Serena Walsh. That same night, Liam handed me divorce papers. “Ava, the company is under investigation for money laundering. I need Serena’s support. Don’t worry—even after the divorce, I’ll still love you.” When I said nothing, he took my hand and continued with practiced tenderness: “Serena doesn’t have your skills. I’ll still need you to guide her through the work. From now on, we’re all family.” I looked at his hollow face and signed without hesitation. Liam thought I was a vine that could only survive wrapped around him. He had no idea that the lifeblood of Holt Group was never in Serena’s hands. Once the papers were signed, Liam folded them away with satisfaction. “Thank you for your patience, Ava.” He walked over and reached out to touch my shoulder, but I stepped aside. His hand froze in mid-air. He pulled it back like nothing had happened, then reached into his suit jacket and produced a black card. “Take this. The PIN is still Noah’s birthday. The divorce is just a formality, but I know it hurts. Think of it as compensation.” I took the card and slipped it into the pocket of my mud-stained jacket. “This is the least I deserve.” My calm tone made him frown slightly. He seemed to want tears, accusations—not this cold indifference. The lounge door swung open. Serena walked in carrying two glasses of champagne, all smiles. “Mrs. Holt… oh, I mean, Ava—is that outfit custom-made from Southeast Asia? It has a certain… wild charm.” She held out a glass to me, the contempt in her eyes completely undisguised. I didn’t take it. “Miss Walsh, I’m not divorced yet. You should still be calling me Mrs. Holt.” Serena’s face went pale for a moment. She looked to Liam for help. Liam immediately smoothed things over: “Ava just got back. She’s tired—just kidding around.” He put his arm around Serena’s shoulders, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it: “Go entertain the guests. I’ll be right there.” After Serena left, the warmth faded from Liam’s face. “Ava, stop being petty. The bigger picture matters. You know I’m doing all of this for the company—for us.” “Where’s our son?” “In the side room. My assistant Ethan is with him.” I didn’t bother with another word and walked out. I pushed open the side room door. Three-year-old Noah was sitting quietly in the corner of a sofa, holding a battered old Transformer. When he saw me, his eyes lit up instantly. He scrambled across the room on his little legs. “Mommy!” I crouched down and pulled him tight against my chest. He smelled like warm milk—the same familiar scent I’d missed for three years. In those three years, I had missed so much of his growing up. “Noah’s been such a good boy.” Liam came in behind me. He crouched down too, reaching out to ruffle Noah’s hair like a devoted father. But Noah instinctively pressed closer into me. The distance between father and son made Liam’s hand freeze again. Just then, Serena followed him in, pulling a beautifully wrapped gift box from her clutch. “Noah, look—I brought you a present. It’s the brand-new LEGO Star Destroyer.” But Noah just buried his face in my neck and whispered: “Mommy, I want the one you got me.” What I’d gotten him was a marked-down toy from an airport gift shop on the way back. Serena’s expression soured. I stood up with Noah in my arms and looked at Liam. “I’m taking Noah home.” “Fine.” Liam nodded, then added: “The money laundering files—I’ll have Ethan send them over first thing tomorrow. Come up with a damage control plan as fast as you can. And Serena… help her get up to speed.” He said it like everything I did for him was simply expected. I looked at him and, for a moment, I almost laughed. “Liam, do you know what I brought back with me from this trip?” He assumed I was about to claim credit for the billion-dollar contracts, and a flicker of irritation crossed his eyes. “I know you worked hard. Don’t worry—the company’s keeping track of everything you’ve contributed.” “No.” I shook my head, and said each word clearly: “What I brought back is the engagement gift—for you and Miss Walsh.” Then I walked past him with Noah in my arms and didn’t look back. I buckled Noah into his car seat and made a call. On the other end of the line was my old partner from Wall Street. “Ava, you’re back?” “Yeah.” I watched the city lights blur past the window. “Get the debt liquidation proceedings against the Walsh Group started.” “Now? But Liam—” “No more waiting.” I cut him off. “He’s already chosen his path.” And I was choosing mine.

The next morning. Top floor of Holt Group. Ethan set a thick stack of “classified documents” in front of me, his expression uneasy. “Ms. Linne… Mr. Holt has asked that you review these materials related to the money laundering investigation. He needs a legal mitigation strategy within three days.” I glanced at the cover. “Ms. Linne?” I gave a short, humorless laugh. “Didn’t take long to change your tune.” Ethan lowered his head and said nothing. Ten minutes later, I closed the file. My eyes had gone cold. The documents were real. But the so-called “investigation targeting Holt Group” was not. The data was riddled with inconsistencies. There was no real criminal exposure here. At most, this was a smokescreen—fabricated by Liam to strip assets and shuffle funds. He had invented a crisis that didn’t exist, then used it to pressure me into signing those divorce papers. The whole thing had one purpose: to get me to step aside and make room for Serena. “Where’s Liam?” “Mr. Holt is… he’s hosting a celebration for Miss Walsh.” I stood up and walked toward the conference room. Liam stood in front of the projection screen, looking every inch the conquering hero. The screen displayed the Southeast Asia herbal supply chain—the one I’d spent three years and nearly my life building. “This breakthrough in our overseas supply chain was made possible entirely by Miss Walsh, who leveraged her family’s connections across Southeast Asia. She is the reason Holt Group has risen from the ashes!” Liam’s voice rang out, barely containing his pride. Serena sat beside him, smiling with practiced grace. The executives fell over themselves to agree: “Miss Walsh is truly remarkable—she’s only just returned and she’s already achieved something extraordinary!” I stood in the doorway and watched this farcical little theft play out. Liam spotted me. A flash of panic crossed his face, then was quickly replaced by cold dismissal. “Ava, what are you doing here? If you’re not feeling well, go rest.” He crossed the room quickly and dropped his voice low: “Serena is officially the Head of Supply Chain now. Your job is to be a ‘consultant.’ Nothing more.” I looked at him, and the last flicker of warmth in my chest went out completely. “Don’t worry, Mr. Holt,” I said evenly. “I’m only here to transfer the non-performing debt portfolio.” In the divorce agreement, I had waived all rights to real estate. The only thing I took was a three-hundred-million-dollar collection of “dead debt”—debts Holt Group had been carrying overseas for years, written off as uncollectible. When I brought it up, contempt flickered in Liam’s eyes. Those debts were loans the Walsh family had taken out overseas at punishing interest rates. Because of their age and the complicated parties involved, Liam had always treated them as worthless paper. “Take it. Holt Group doesn’t need those write-offs.” Serena walked over and reached for my hand with an air of false warmth. “Ava, don’t be angry. Liam is trying to protect you. Southeast Asia is too dangerous. From now on, leave the public-facing work to me.” Then she dropped her voice so only I could hear: “I stole your man and your credit. Isn’t that just… so embarrassing for me?” I closed my hand around her wrist. Hard. Serena gasped. The color drained from her face. “Miss Walsh,” I said, holding her gaze, each word deliberate: “Southeast Asia is full of things that can bite. A woman with your delicate constitution should be very, very careful.” Liam shoved me back, stepping between me and Serena. “Ava! What is wrong with you?!” I took one step back and smoothed the wrinkle he’d made in my jacket. “I’m not done yet.” I pulled out a debt transfer confirmation and dropped it on the table. “Mr. Holt, sign this. As of right now, the three-hundred-million-dollar debt that the Walsh family owes Holt Group is formally transferred to my name—Ava Linne.” Liam signed without even reading it. In his mind, I was venting helpless frustration. Grabbing a few scraps to get by on. He had no idea that the Walsh family was never the elite dynasty he thought it was. Serena’s father had burned through the family fortune in Southeast Asia. The three-hundred-million-dollar IOU was backed by collateral—the Walsh family’s entire equity stake in Holt Group. I walked out of the building and dialed a number. “Tell the debt collectors the Walsh debt is mine now.” “Starting tomorrow—maximum compounding interest. Send them to the Walsh family’s front door.”

Liam brought Serena into my office while I was reviewing a secondary compound analysis report on Southeast Asian herbs. “Ava, walk Serena through the core chapters of the IPO prospectus.” He leaned both hands on my desk, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Serena is handling the investor roadshow. Help her polish the presentation.” Serena settled into the leather chair across from me like she owned the place. “Ava, Liam says you’re the best at doing the grunt work.” She pulled a document out of her bag—one that had been rewritten beyond recognition—and tossed it in front of me. “All those numbers are so boring. I rewrote it as a brand story. Just work the technical data back in somehow.” I opened the so-called proposal. It was nothing but hollow buzzwords. She had even listed the herbal degradation rate as one hundred percent. If this ever went public, Holt Group would be fined into bankruptcy by regulators. “I can’t work with this.” “Miss Walsh, biotech isn’t luxury retail. Falsifying data is a federal crime.” Serena’s face fell instantly. “Liam, are you hearing this—” Liam straightened up, clearly displeased, his eyes going cold. “Ava, don’t bring your personal feelings into the office. Serena’s family connections will triple Holt Group’s market premium.” He came around behind me, leaned down, and spoke quietly into my ear: “Don’t forget—you’re still living under this roof. For Noah’s sake, you need to let Serena hold this position.” I closed my eyes for a moment. This wasn’t just an assault on my emotions. It was the murder of my professional dignity. “Fine.” I opened my eyes, keeping my voice level. “I’ll rewrite it.” Liam’s expression relaxed. He gave my shoulder a satisfied pat. “Good. There’s a charity gala tonight. Serena is attending as co-founder. You’ll be there as her accompanying consultant.” At three in the afternoon, Serena arrived with her personal stylist and took over my private lounge like she owned it. Right in front of me, she changed into a gown covered in diamond fragments. It was the dress Liam had bought at a Paris auction last year—the one he’d said was my thirtieth birthday gift. “Ava, this dress fits a little tight. Liam said it was made especially for ‘the lady of the house.’” She turned left and right in front of the mirror, then glanced at my black blazer. “You look like an office assistant. Noah will be there tonight—don’t you want to make a better impression for him?” When she mentioned Noah, I felt the air go still in my chest. Liam wanted to parade Noah at the gala to perform the image of a happy family. “Miss Walsh, a beautiful dress means nothing if the person wearing it can’t carry herself. It just looks ridiculous.” I didn’t look at her again. I picked up my laptop and walked out. In the hallway, I dialed a number. “Get the liquidation team ready. Tonight at the gala, I’m giving Mr. Holt a very special IPO gift.” Three hours later. The charity gala. Holt Group arrived in full force. Every camera in the room was aimed at Liam and Serena by his side. The press called them “the golden couple of the investment world.” And I stood in the shadows beyond the lights, holding Noah’s hand. Noah tugged at my sleeve, uneasy. “Mommy, why won’t Daddy hold our hands?” I crouched down and straightened the bow tie on his little suit. “Noah, in a little while, watch Mommy do a magic trick.” “When it’s done, we’ll be free.”

The gala was in full swing, the crystal chandeliers scattering sharp light across the hall. I was peeling a shrimp for Noah when a piercing shriek cut through the noise nearby. “Waaah! He hit me! That little brat with no dad hit me!” I spun around. Serena’s nephew was clutching his face, sobbing. And Noah had been shoved down onto the hard marble floor, a red welt forming on his forehead where it had struck the corner of a table. Serena came rushing over: “Oh my God, Tyler! Are you hurt? What kind of child does something like this? Completely out of control!” The guests nearby turned to stare, murmuring to each other: “Isn’t that the ex-wife’s kid? Figures he’d cause a scene.” “I heard his own father doesn’t want him. No wonder he’s like this.” I dropped my napkin and crossed the room in seconds, pulling Noah into my arms. He was shaking. “I didn’t push him…” Noah was crying, pointing at the pieces of his Transformer scattered across the floor. “He grabbed my toy. And he called Mommy a… a bad word.” Liam walked over, his face hard. He didn’t even glance at Noah’s injury. His first move was to pull Serena to him. Then he turned on me: “Ava! Take him outside! Why would you bring a child to something like this?” “Making a scene?” “Liam, are you blind? Look at who’s actually hurt here.” Serena leaned against Liam and dabbed at her eyes with theatrical delicacy: “Liam, it’s fine. Ava’s been raising Noah alone—it’s hard, kids act out. But Tyler is my family’s pride and joy. If my father hears about this, the investment into Holt Group…” The word “investment” landed like a trigger. Liam’s expression shifted—cold, hard, and resolute. He stared at me: “Apologize to Serena. Apologize to Tyler.” I was holding Noah. My hands were trembling. “What did you just say?” “Apologize!” Liam’s voice went harder. “Don’t let your selfishness destroy Holt Group’s future.” I looked at this man I had once fought through everything alongside, and the very last ember of warmth inside me went dark. “Alright.” I set Noah down and slowly stood up. Liam thought I was yielding. His expression eased slightly. The next second, I picked up a glass of red wine from the nearest table and threw it across Serena’s million-dollar gown without warning. Then, before anyone could react, I stepped forward and slapped her—clean and sharp. Crack. The entire hall went silent. “That one was for my son.” I held Serena’s gaze as she reeled from the blow. Then I turned to Liam. From my clutch, I pulled out the IPO prospectus he’d been guarding like his life depended on it. Under his horrified stare, I tore it apart. “Liam, the dynasty you’ve been dreaming of is nothing but a shell.” I spoke loud enough for the entire room to hear, and dropped the bombshell cold: “The Walsh family’s assets in Southeast Asia have been frozen. Serena’s three hundred million in debt is due today.” The color left Liam’s face instantly. He grabbed Serena’s wrist: “Is it true? The Walsh family—” Serena began to stammer a response, but at that moment, the gala doors burst open. Several men in black suits with hard faces pushed their way inside. The man in front held up a debt certificate stamped with Southeast Asian legal seals: “Miss Walsh—with compounding interest, that comes to three hundred and fifty million dollars. Ms. Linne sent us to collect.” Liam looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He turned to me, his eyes filled with terror and dawning regret. “Ava… what have you done?” At that moment, his phone erupted with alerts. Ethan’s voice cut through the stunned silence in the hall: “Mr. Holt! The IPO application has been rejected!” “The regulators received an anonymous tip—financial fraud. The Walsh family’s assets are all non-performing debt!” Liam collapsed into a chair. He watched my back as I walked away, and he finally understood. He had thrown away a god and welcomed a ghost into his house instead. The moment I stepped through the doors, I made the call. “Ava, what’s next?” I looked up at the stars scattered across the night sky, my voice perfectly calm: “Liquidate Liam. I want him left with nothing.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “369103”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #擦边Steamy #校园School #狼人Werewolf

The day my brother was diagnosed with vocal cord polyps, an unprecedented argument erupted in our house. Five million in penalty fees, five hundred thousand for surgery. For a family already crushed by my medical expenses, these were astronomical numbers. Mom pointed at me huddled in the corner of the sofa wearing headphones, breaking down in tears: “Why wasn’t he the one who went mute back then? Why does one have to be mute, and the other has to become mute too!” My brother Liam stormed out, slamming the door. Before leaving, his eyes red, he looked at me coldly: “Mara, if I were the beneficiary of that accident insurance policy, how wonderful that would be.” I took off my headphones. There was actually no music playing inside. Ever since that fire five years ago when I rescued my brother, I could no longer make a sound, and my left hand could no longer play the violin. I looked at the “High-Value Accidental Death Insurance Policy” on the table. Dad had bought it years ago, gritting his teeth through the payments, worried that no one would take care of me—a disabled person—in the future. The beneficiary was listed as the legal heirs. I glanced at the bottle of antidepressants hidden in my pocket. I thought, Liam was right. With just one accident, my brother could use the money to cure his voice, and he could use the songs I’d hidden in my violin case to continue shining on stage. This time, I really won’t be a burden to you anymore.

The soundproofing in the house was terrible. The oppressive sounds of argument from the living room seeped through the door crack and drilled into my ears. “Sell the house? Have you lost your mind? If we sell the house, where will the four of us live? Sleep on the streets?” Mom’s voice was shrill and broken, choked with sobs. “Then what do you suggest? Five million in penalties, five hundred thousand for surgery! Even if we sold our old bones, it wouldn’t be enough!” Dad slammed the ashtray down with a clang. “Liam’s voice can’t wait! The doctor said the earlier the surgery, the better the recovery. If we delay and it becomes chronic, his career will truly be over!” “Why is my life so bitter…” Mom’s crying came in fits and starts. “We shouldn’t have been so soft-hearted back then… These past few years treating that mute’s depression, paying for surgery on that useless hand—the family’s savings were completely drained. If we still had that money…” “Enough! Stop it!” Dad sighed heavily. “What’s the point of saying this now? She’s Liam’s biological sister. During the fire, she only got hurt because she was saving Liam…” “What good did saving him do? She’s dragged down the whole family for life!” Mom screamed hysterically. “If I’d known it would come to this, I’d rather have back then…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but I knew what she wanted to say. I also knew she wasn’t truly cruel. She was just too tired, too desperate. People bent under life’s heavy burdens always need an outlet. And I was that perfect outlet. By the moonlight streaming through the window, I looked at myself in the mirror. Pale face, vacant eyes—like a wandering ghost in the mortal world. Yes, I was a burden. What value did my existence have besides creating problems for this family? I touched my pocket, where I had a few hundred dollars secretly saved up. It was my private stash, accumulated by deliberately taking fewer pills, scraping together a little at a time. Under cover of darkness, I slipped out to the pharmacy. Standing at the counter, I typed on my phone to show the clerk: [Do you have the best throat-soothing lozenges? The kind that’s handmade and helps relieve vocal cord polyps?] The clerk pulled out a glass jar from the cabinet. “This one’s from an old established brand, made purely with natural ingredients. The effect is especially good, just a bit expensive—over three hundred dollars.” Over three hundred dollars. Nearly all my savings.

Without hesitation, I nodded and paid. Walking back with that heavy glass jar, my steps felt much lighter. I remembered when we were little, Liam loved sweets the most. Every time he caught a cold and coughed, he’d beg for throat-soothing syrup. Back then the family was poor, so Mom could only make it herself, and he always complained it wasn’t sweet enough. This expensive jar I bought—it should be really sweet, right? When I got home, I tiptoed to Liam’s bedroom door. I didn’t dare knock, afraid he’d see me and lose his temper again. I carefully placed the jar of lozenges at his door, positioning it where he’d see it as soon as he opened the door, silently saying: Liam, good night. The next morning, Liam sat at the dining table eating breakfast, his face terrifyingly dark. Mom carefully peeled an egg for him: “Liam, eat something. Skipping breakfast is bad for your stomach.” “I’m not eating! I’m full of anger already!” Liam threw down his fork. “I’m already irritated, and first thing this morning I open my door to see that unlucky thing!” My heart lurched. Following his gaze, I saw the jar of lozenges lying in the trash can. “That… the packaging looks pretty nice…” Mom quietly tried to reason with him. Liam let out a cold laugh. “Mom, look at her pathetic state—what good thing could she possibly afford? This kind of product from who-knows-where, do you want me to eat it and ruin my voice?” “What if something goes wrong? Can she compensate for it?” “A mute—being a useless person herself is bad enough, and now she wants to harm me!” He stood up, and as he passed the trash can, he gave it another vicious kick. The glass jar rolled in the trash can, mixing with the dirty water inside, becoming filthy and polluted. Just like my heart—offered to him with good intentions, only to be trampled under his feet with disgust. I stood at the bedroom door, silently closed it, slid down against the door panel to the floor, and pulled out from my pocket the insurance policy I’d already signed. Liam was right. I truly couldn’t compensate. But my life—that should be enough compensation. Since you looked down on that three-hundred-dollar jar of lozenges, Then this five-million-dollar gift—you should be satisfied with that, right? I closed my eyes and revealed a bleak smile. Liam, don’t worry. The best medicine—your sister is already preparing it for you. It was an unusually violent rainstorm. Lightning bolt after lightning bolt struck down, illuminating this crumbling old apartment complex. Another tremendous crash, and the window buzzed and trembled. I lifted my head groggily and through the window saw a silver-gray performance outfit hanging on the balcony. It was Liam’s most treasured piece of clothing, the battle robe he planned to wear for his comeback. Custom-made by hand, covered with Swarovski crystals. To buy this outfit, Mom had scrimped and saved, even cutting off my physical therapy fees for a month. At this moment, that expensive outfit was swaying violently in the wind and rain, about to be soaked through. If this outfit was ruined… I could imagine Liam’s furious reaction, Mom’s breakdown and sobbing, imagine them pointing at my nose and cursing: “Don’t you have any awareness? It’s raining and you don’t know to bring in the clothes? You just sat inside watching it get soaked?” I smiled bitterly. Yes, I was useless, but I still needed to be useful trash with some awareness. Supporting myself against the wall, I stumbled out of my room and pushed open the glass door to the balcony. The fierce wind mixed with icy rain hit my face. I shivered, nearly blown over by the wind. Our balcony was very old. The railing was one of those iron barriers from over a decade ago. A few days earlier, property management had issued a notice saying this batch of railings had safety issues and asked each household to pay attention to repairs. Dad had looked at it and sighed. “Repair what? Replacing a railing costs several thousand. Where does the family have spare money now? Just make do. Just don’t lean on it normally.” Don’t lean on it. I looked at that iron railing swaying precariously in the wind and rain, and suddenly that crazy thought flashed through my mind. Wasn’t this… the perfect opportunity? Heavy rain, slippery ground, an old and damaged railing, a sister trying to save her brother’s expensive performance outfit. Everything was so reasonable. Everything was so seamless. I took a deep breath of the moist air thick with the smell of earth. My chest, which had felt suffocated for so long, actually felt a trace of long-lost relief in this moment. Step by step, I moved toward the edge of the balcony. The rain quickly soaked my hair and pajamas, ice-cold and piercing, yet it made my muddled brain unusually clear. I reached out my hand and grabbed that wildly dancing performance outfit. I held it in my arms, carefully protecting it. The outfit was safely retrieved. Next, it was time to end this. I turned around, my waist against that rust-covered railing. It let out a creak, seeming to tremble under the unbearable weight. I looked at the glittering outfit in my hands, remembering that year when I was twelve, when the fire broke out. I had held little Liam in my arms just like this. Back then I’d said: “Don’t be afraid, your sister will get you out.” Back then I was a hero. And now, I was a burden. But it didn’t matter. Even as a burden, I still had value to burn one last time. The tiles under my feet were very slippery. Following that gust of fierce wind, I shifted all my body weight backward. The sound of the railing breaking was drowned out by the rolling thunder. My body instantly lost its support. The moment the sensation of weightlessness hit, I just held tightly to the outfit in my arms, letting myself fall into the endless curtain of rain. The sound of wind howled in my ears, like a grand symphony. The descent was actually very quick, but in my consciousness, it seemed stretched out for a century. I watched the sixth floor grow farther and farther away from me. Mom, I’m sorry. Your unfilial daughter is going first. That day you said you’d had enough of this life. Don’t be afraid. When the sun rises tomorrow, the nightmare will be over. You’ll never have to worry about money again, never have to sigh looking at this disabled daughter. Liam. The lozenges your sister bought—you threw them away. It’s okay. This performance outfit, your sister retrieved it for you. And that five-million-dollar accident insurance policy, your sister is delivering it to you. You must use it to cure your voice, stand on the biggest stage, and sing the songs your sister wrote for you to the whole world. The intense pain was only momentary. Immediately after came boundless, endless darkness. How wonderful. The world was finally quiet.

The morning after the rain stopped, police cars and ambulances shattered the quiet of the apartment complex. I floated in mid-air, watching that body covered with a white cloth below. That was me. The investigating officer was a middle-aged man. He frowned as he examined the broken section of railing, then looked at the performance outfit I’d protected with my life in my arms. “Preliminary determination is accidental fall.” The officer closed his notebook, his tone carrying a trace of melancholy. “The railing was old and damaged, plus last night’s rain made it slippery. The deceased… should have lost her footing trying to retrieve this outfit.” “Even falling like this, she protected the outfit so well it didn’t get a speck of mud on it.” The officer handed the performance outfit to Liam, who stood nearby in shock. “Take it. This is what your sister traded her life for.” Liam’s hands trembled as he took the outfit. Hearing the word “accidental,” Mom’s legs went weak and she collapsed directly to the ground. “My daughter… why were you so foolish…” She cried heart-wrenchingly. But I could see clearly—in the depths of her tear-blurred eyes was a trace of imperceptible relief.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “369104”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn

My sister inherited our mom’s rare heart disease, but I was born perfectly healthy without a single defect. After confirming through tests that I was indeed her biological child, Mom locked me in my room for three days. “You freak, you’re nothing like my child. Just go die!” Dad held her lovingly, comforting my sister who was crying hysterically, his eyes full of blame toward me. “You know Vivian and your sister aren’t well. Why are you so inconsiderate?” To distance herself from me, Mom wouldn’t even let me share her or Dad’s last name. She just flipped through a dictionary and randomly gave me a different surname. When I was seven, on Christmas, Dad took Mom and my sister abroad for vacation. They locked the front door from the outside, leaving me alone in the empty house. When hunger reached its peak, I found a desiccant packet and hastily swallowed it. As my stomach churned violently, my heart felt like it was splitting apart. My first reaction was joy. Mom, does this mean I have the same illness as you now?

The desiccant packet had fallen out of my sister’s snack wrapper. I remembered it was a bag of candy, colorful and beautiful, and it smelled sweet. It must have tasted delicious. I had carefully climbed to the edge of the sofa and tugged at my sister’s sleeve, begging her to let me taste just one piece. But Mom stood beside us, looking down at me with a sinister expression. Then without warning, she slapped my face, her tone so cold it frightened me. “Quinn, you don’t deserve it!” Neither she nor Dad had the surname Quinn. It was just a name she’d randomly found in a dictionary and thrown at me. She didn’t stop until my face was swollen and blood dripped from the corner of my mouth. Dad immediately stepped forward, rubbing her hand tenderly. “Honey, why are you getting upset again? You need to take care of yourself. Don’t worry, once Christmas is over, I’ll send her away.” I lay on the floor, already accustomed to this treatment. My sister ate the candy in big bites, accidentally dropping the desiccant packet into the sofa cushions. Now I was chewing the desiccant in big bites too, imagining it was that bag of candy. But the severe pain in my heart and stomach made it impossible to deceive myself any longer. My entire body felt like it was burning, and I couldn’t stop curling up. As consciousness gradually blurred, I used all my remaining strength to crawl back to my room and lay on my bed. It wasn’t really a room, just a storage closet next to the bathroom. And it wasn’t really a bed, just a platform made of wooden boards. I’d secretly been in my sister’s room once. It was big and spacious and fragrant, filled with beautiful dolls. My sister’s bed was big and soft, but I only touched it lightly before Mom made me kneel all night as punishment and forbade me from eating for three days. I cried from hunger and grabbed Dad’s pant leg, asking him why Mom treated me this way. The neighbor lady also had two children—one healthy, one sick—but she always favored the healthy one. I heard she almost sent the sick one to an orphanage. But my family was exactly the opposite. Mom had tried to send me to an orphanage. If the police hadn’t stopped her, I’d probably already be an orphan. I didn’t want Mom to favor me. My sister was sick and did need more attention. I just wished Mom could be a little kinder to me, could share just a bit of the love she gave my sister. Dad frowned as he listened, then pushed me away. “Quinn, I always thought you were just immature. I never imagined you’d want to send your sister to an orphanage! You know your mom and sister aren’t well, and yet… God, you’re such a disappointment!” I knew Dad had misunderstood and desperately tried to explain. But he didn’t give me any chance. He didn’t even look at me. The next second, the door suddenly creaked open. My head was foggy, my attention focused on the bloody taste rising in my throat. I couldn’t tell if this was memory or reality. Until I heard my sister’s cheerful voice. “Mom, Dad, France was so fun, the steak was so good, I want to go again!” I suddenly realized—Mom and Dad had returned from abroad with my sister. I quickly tried to get up to greet them. If I was late, Mom would get angry. But suddenly I realized I was very close to the ceiling. Looking down, I saw my small body on the bed, covered tightly with a blanket. And I was floating in the air, already transformed into a transparent soul.

“Baby, you must be hungry after all this time. Mommy will cook for you right now.” I carefully floated to the kitchen, watching Mom prepare dish after dish of my sister’s favorite foods. I hadn’t eaten in so long. I was drooling with hunger. Dad sat on the sofa watching TV with my sister when he suddenly spoke up. “Hey, where’s Quinn? Why is it so quiet?” Mom’s hands suddenly stopped moving. “Why mention her on such a happy day? She’s probably sleeping late in her room.” Mom, that’s not true. I wasn’t sleeping late. Every day I woke up to clean, scrubbed the toilet until it was spotless. “Didn’t you say you’d get rid of her as soon as possible? I’m telling you, it’s either me or her in this house!” Mom slammed down the kitchen utensil in her hand, her words leaving no room for argument. Then she lowered her head and muttered to herself, “Why is she the normal one? Why!” The tone in her voice made me feel strange. Mom didn’t love me—was it because she favored my sister, or because she was… jealous of me? She’d said these same words before, when I brought home a running award. She stared at my certificate with bloodshot eyes, then grabbed a feather duster and beat my legs viciously. “How dare you run! You know your sister and I have heart conditions and can’t run. Who are you showing off to? Why are you the normal one? Why!” The pain made me cry. I knelt down and begged Mom. “Mom, I won’t run anymore, I’ll never run again!” She acted as if she couldn’t hear my pleas, couldn’t see the flesh torn open on my legs. She kept beating me until I nearly passed out, until my leg bone made a cracking sound. Only then did she stop and call my PE teacher. “Quinn broke her leg. She can never run again.” The PE teacher sighed, “What a shame. The kid had real talent.” A strange smile appeared on Mom’s face as she looked at me with ill intent. “You won an award for a painting too, didn’t you?” I didn’t understand what she meant. I just shrank back, not daring to speak. After my injury healed, Mom took me back to school, called my homeroom teacher, and shouted in front of the entire class. “Quinn’s grades are all from cheating, including that award-winning painting—her sister drew it for her. She’s a shameless thief. Nobody is allowed to play with her anymore!” Then she pulled out my books from my backpack and tore them to shreds, one by one. The friend I used to play with most looked at me with disgust. I gradually lowered my head amid everyone’s condemnation, not even daring to defend myself loudly. The homeroom teacher looked shocked and tried to reason with Mom. But Dad suddenly arrived and pulled Mom into his arms. “Quinn, why are you provoking your mother again? Is this the first day you’ve known she has a heart condition?” At those words, the teacher stopped and didn’t dare approach. Dad pulled Mom’s hand and walked out of the classroom. Before leaving, Mom turned back to look at me with a triumphant expression. I stood there at a loss while my classmates chattered around me. After that, I became a loner, a freak. Any talent I displayed was ruined by Mom. My excellent grades became reasons for her to beat and scold me. Or rather, my very existence was the root cause of Mom’s anger. Thinking of this, I suddenly felt that death was a good thing. At least Mom wouldn’t be angry anymore. At least I wouldn’t be sad about Mom not loving me anymore.

But I was wrong. Watching Mom feed my sister bite by bite, thoughtfully wiping the residue from the corner of her mouth, my heart wrenched violently. Storybooks said that when people die, they lose all sensation. Lies. I could still feel heartache. Halfway through the meal, my sister suddenly pushed open my door, showing off the new necklace around her neck. “Quinn, look! Mom bought me this new necklace. Isn’t it pretty?” I was already used to my sister’s bragging and felt no emotional ripple. My attention was entirely focused on her hands, afraid she’d pull back my blanket and discover I was dead. When my sister realized I wasn’t responding, she pouted unhappily and started crying loudly. Mom immediately appeared, holding my sister in her arms and comforting her softly. Once my sister finally calmed down, Mom expertly grabbed a stick from behind my door—one she kept there specifically for punishing me. “Quinn, don’t think you can lord it over everyone just because you’re healthy! I’ll beat you to death!” But no matter how long she beat me, I showed no reaction. She grew suspicious and pulled back a corner of the blanket. When she saw the vomit from the desiccant I’d swallowed, she was startled. “Well, well, Quinn, you actually vomited in bed! You’re disgusting! Don’t think staying quiet will save you!” Then she called Dad over, her eyes sharp as knives. “Send her away. Right now. I don’t want to see her for another second!” Dad spoke in a gentle, soothing voice. “Okay, whatever you say. I’ve already made arrangements. They’ll come pick her up tomorrow. We just need to endure one more day, okay?” Mom nodded with difficulty, took my sister’s hand, and spoke in a gentle, patient tone. “Baby, ignore your sister. She doesn’t deserve to be Mommy’s daughter. Come on, Mommy will take you out to ride the carousel, okay?” I’d never ridden a carousel. I used to secretly watch my sister ride. I heard it was fun. Too bad I’d never get the chance now. After Mom left with my sister, Dad sat on the edge of my bed, sighing repeatedly. “Quinn, don’t blame your mother. She’s sick, and your sister is sick too. You need to understand her. Actually, she… loves you.” He said those last three words with very little confidence. It was the first time I’d seen Dad cry. I wanted to reach out and wipe his tears, but my hand just passed through his body. He gently took my hand. “Your mom hit you pretty hard just now, didn’t she? Come on, get up, Dad will take you to the hospital.” But Dad, I can’t get up anymore. Seeing my prolonged lack of response, Dad looked puzzled and pushed me, then started to pull back my blanket. I closed my eyes, not daring to imagine Dad’s reaction when he discovered I was dead. But the next second, a phone ringtone rang out abruptly. The voice from the hospital came through. “Sir, your wife had a sudden heart attack and was hospitalized. Your daughter was frightened, and her condition isn’t good either.” Dad couldn’t spare another thought. He abandoned me and rushed out the door. My soul was suddenly pulled by an invisible force, and the next second I was at the hospital. Mom lay in the hospital bed, her face pale. Even at this point, she kept muttering to Dad. “Honey, I don’t have much longer to live. Please send Quinn away immediately, okay? My chest hurts just seeing her!” Mom, your chest won’t hurt anymore. You won’t have to be angry anymore. I’m already dead. You’ll never have to see me again.

Dad looked at the ceiling with a complicated expression, then called his assistant in front of Mom. “Go to my house right now and take Quinn away immediately. That boarding school I contacted before—I’ll send you the address. The boarding school is in another province. Help Quinn pack extra clothes…” Before Dad could finish, Mom snatched the phone. “Make her stay there for the rest of her life! Don’t let her set foot in this city again!” The assistant quickly agreed and hung up. Only then did Mom calm down and lie back peacefully under Dad’s soothing. Dad sighed and went to ask the doctor about her condition. Passing by my sister’s room, the heartache in his eyes nearly overflowed. Because my sister’s condition looked a hundred times worse than Mom’s. Her face was white as paper, completely lifeless. The doctor called Dad into the office and showed him the diagnosis. “Mr. Carter, your wife’s heart attack was severe this time, but she was treated promptly and should be fine. But your daughter was frightened. She’s very young, and it’s dangerous.” As Dad looked on in despair, the doctor patted his shoulder. “However, we just learned there’s a heart donor that matches your daughter. If you want to proceed with the heart transplant, I’ll arrange it immediately.” Dad nodded repeatedly. “Doctor, yes, please save my daughter.” But Mom appeared behind Dad like a ghost. “Why? Why did I wait all these years for a donor and never get one, but she gets one so young?” Her tone was calm, yet chilling. The doctor patiently explained, “Mrs. Carter, we’re also sorry about this situation, but…” Mom didn’t give the doctor a chance to finish. “No. I won’t allow it!” She was gasping heavily, her eyes bloodshot and obsessive. Then she ran to my sister’s bedside, yanked off the oxygen tube, and shook her small shoulders violently. “I thought you were like me, that you’d always be on my side. But now… you’re just like Quinn. You’re both liars. Neither of you deserves to be my child! You should die. Just die!” I was stunned by this series of events. The mother who just moments ago showered my sister with extreme love, who let her act spoiled, who was willing to sacrifice everything for her. How had she now become this crazed creature? I suddenly realized she didn’t love me or my sister. Or rather, her favoritism toward my sister was built entirely on the foundation of my sister being sick. Mom’s screaming continued. “Why am I the only one in this family who has to suffer? I won’t allow it! I won’t!” As she spoke, she squeezed my sister’s neck with all her strength. My sister’s eyes flew open, unable to believe that the person trying to kill her was her own mother. Mom’s strength was enormous. It took Dad and several medical staff together to pull her away. In the chaos, Dad’s phone rang at the worst possible moment. Dad couldn’t answer and hung up several times. Only after the doctor finally gave Mom a sedative and she calmed down did Dad open his phone. What appeared before his eyes were several photos and a message from his assistant. [Mr. Carter, this is bad. Quinn… she’s dead!]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “369105”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn

Married for five years, Rhys Blackwood never mentioned me publicly. Everyone in our elite circle whispered that he’d married a deaf woman, but he’d only offer a faint smile, never confirming or denying. I told myself he loved me, he just wasn’t good at expressing it. Until that night, when I saw an anonymous post: “When you’re doing it, take off her hearing aids and call out your ex-girlfriend’s name. She won’t hear you, she’ll just think you’re telling her you love her.” The account’s profile picture was a stray cat I’d personally photographed. I’d only ever sent it to him. Turns out, I was just his chosen stand-in. Elara POV A silent world is profoundly quiet. Beyond the world I could only access with my hearing aids, all that remained was a vast, expansive white, and boundless emptiness. It was two in the morning, and the light from my phone screen felt harsh in the dark. An anonymous trending post on a social media app had been pushed to the top. The topic: “What’s it like to have a hearing-impaired girlfriend?” The top-voted answer stung my eyes. It was just a single, short line, dripping with casual indifference: “When you’re doing it, take off her hearing aids and call out your ex-girlfriend’s name. She won’t hear you, she’ll just think you’re telling her you love her.” Countless replies followed. Some cursed: “Scumbag. Aren’t you afraid of karma?” Some asked: “What if she finds out?” The original poster replied: “She won’t. Besides, she’s my wife now. She can’t survive without me.” My finger hovered over the screen for a long time, my fingertip white. The profile picture for that account was a stray cat, the same one I’d fed in the rich neighborhood’s backyard two years ago. I’d taken that photo, and I’d only ever sent it to one person. Rhys Blackwood. My heart felt like it was being brutally squeezed by an invisible hand, blood flowing backward, freezing into ice. Two years ago, Rhys had changed all his social media profile pictures to this cat. Back then, I thought he loved everything connected to me. Now I knew, it was because the cat looked exactly like Seraphina, the woman he’d gone abroad to study with. The cat’s eyes were amber too, arrogant, dignified, and aloof. I clicked on his profile. He never posted photos of us on social media, and his bio was blank. But his latest post was just ten minutes old, only one picture. Under dim light, a long, slender, bony hand held another delicate hand. The caption: “Long time no see.” Flashback five years, to the day of our unremarkable wedding. It was pouring rain. Our car was parked outside the church. Rhys held my hand just like that, not looking at me, but at the curtain of rain. He said flatly, “Elara, from now on, this is your home.” I thought it was a promise. Now, it seemed it was nothing more than a slow, insidious torture that had lasted five years. The sound of an engine shutting off came from downstairs. Followed by the beeping of the keypad lock unlocking. Each sound was like a spike driven into my heart. The bedroom door opened, bringing in the chill of a late autumn night, mixed with a faint tobacco smell, and… a subtle, unfamiliar scent of iris. That was Seraphina’s favorite perfume. “Still awake?” Rhys’s voice was low and magnetic. It was a frequency I could barely discern even with my hearing aids, yet it was etched into my bones. He casually draped his suit jacket over the chair, his long fingers loosening his tie, and walked towards the bed. Under the lamplight, his features were chiseled and deep, his eyes carrying an innate aloofness. He was the most powerful billionaire in this district, accustomed to controlling everything. He leaned over, his shadow enveloping me. I instinctively flinched. Rhys’s movements paused slightly, his deep-set eyes narrowed, as if he sensed my unease, but quickly returned to his usual indifference. “What’s wrong?” He reached out, his fingertips tracing my pale cheek, which felt cold. “Had a nightmare?” I looked at him. I looked at the face I’d loved for seven whole years. From admiring him from afar in college, to our accidental encounters, and then to this marriage certificate. I was like a humble scavenger, picking up the small crumbs of affection that slipped through his fingers. “No.” I spoke, my voice a little hoarse from long silence. I couldn’t hear my own voice very well, so I usually spoke very little, always afraid of mispronouncing words and being laughed at. But in front of Rhys, I always tried hard to respond. Rhys didn’t seem to care about my answer. He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and casually tossed it onto the nightstand. “Brought it back from my business trip. See if you like it.” The box sprang open to reveal an intricately crafted diamond necklace. I recognized it. Seraphina had worn the exact same one on the cover of a fashion magazine last month. The design of that necklace was perfect for covering a small mole Seraphina had on her neck. My neck, however, was clean, with nothing there. “Thank you.” I lowered my gaze, hiding the desolation in my eyes. Rhys smiled, but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned in and kissed my forehead, his tone as gentle as if coaxing a disobedient pet. “Good girl. I’m going to take a shower.” The sound of rushing water filled the bathroom. I stared at the blue velvet box, my stomach churning violently, a wave of nausea washing over me.

Elara POV The water stopped in the bathroom. Rhys emerged, wrapped in a bathrobe, his hair still dripping. He had an excellent physique: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscles that were defined but not overly bulky. The typical “looks lean in clothes, toned without.” His phone vibrated on the nightstand. The screen lit up, displaying an unsaved number. I was close enough that one glance was all it took for me to see the digits. I knew that number by heart. I’d heard it countless times in Rhys’s drunken ramblings. Rhys stopped drying his hair, his gaze sweeping across the screen. His previously languid expression instantly sharpened. He picked up the phone and looked at me. His eyes held a warning, or perhaps a sense of indifferent entitlement. He didn’t avoid me; he simply swiped to answer. “Rhys.” The voice from the receiver was distorted but still revealed a woman’s sobs and grievances. “I’m back.” “I heard you got married? That mute… does she really look that much like me?” My hand, tucked under the covers, clenched tightly. My nails dug into my palm, a piercing pain. So, in their eyes, I was not only deaf but also mute. Rhys didn’t speak, just listened quietly. The woman on the other end said something else. His brow furrowed slightly, but his tone softened, filled with a patience I’d never heard before. “Stop it. Go to bed early.” After he hung up, the room fell into a deathly silence. I looked up at him. Rhys casually tossed his phone back onto the nightstand, his face composed, as if the call had been an insignificant interlude. “Work stuff,” he explained blandly. He couldn’t even bother to craft a convincing lie. Because he was sure I couldn’t hear what was said on the other end. And he was just as sure I couldn’t leave him. “Go to sleep.” The lights went out. Darkness instantly swallowed everything. Rhys’s presence drew near, carrying the dampness from his shower and that persistent iris scent. An arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his embrace. My body was rigid, like stone. I wanted to push him away, to demand answers, to scream hysterically. But what right did I have? The prenuptial agreement stated it clearly: a mutually beneficial arrangement. He gave me the status of Mrs. Blackwood, a life of unparalleled luxury, and a hefty donation to the orphanage. And all I had to do was be a quiet, obedient, and trouble-free wife. “Relax.” Rhys’s voice brushed my ear, his hot breath on my neck. The next second, a warm, large hand gently touched my ear. Skillfully, without question, he removed my hearing aid. The world instantly went silent. All sounds were stripped away, leaving only the thunderous pounding of my own heart. My pupils contracted violently. It was true. What the post said, it was true. Before this, I thought it was just his peculiar habit. He liked to see my lost, helpless expression during intimacy, liked to see me clinging tightly to him because I couldn’t hear, like a drowning person grasping at a final piece of driftwood. I thought it was a game, a possessive desire. Turns out, it was just so he could whisper another woman’s name in my ear. Rhys kissed me. His movements were savage, like a release, a primal taking. My eyes were open, and in the faint moonlight streaming through the window, I stared fixedly at his face. He was aroused. His eyes, usually so cold and distant, were now stained with scarlet lust. What was he saying? I’d learned some lip-reading. Though not an expert, at such close range, I saw it clearly. His lips parted and closed, unmistakably forming another woman’s name. Seraphina. A crushing wave of humiliation drowned me. Tears silently streamed from the corners of my eyes, disappearing into my hairline. Rhys didn’t notice my tears. Or rather, even if he did, he wouldn’t care. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a useful, obedient replacement with a somewhat similar face. That night, I felt like I died. In that silent world, I heard the sound of my heart breaking.

Elara POV Morning. Sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, casting a harsh glare on the carpet. The spot beside me on the bed was already cold. Rhys was always disciplined, his body clock frighteningly precise. I sat up in bed, my entire body aching as if I’d been run over by a truck. I fumbled for my hearing aids and put them on. The world became noisy again. Downstairs, I could faintly hear the clinking of dishes and the low murmur of house staff. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was pale, with faint dark circles under my eyes, and there were still marks from last night’s frenzy on my neck. My face, indeed, bore a resemblance to Seraphina’s. Especially my eyes. Seraphina was a vibrant rose; I was a cool, pristine lily. Rhys loved roses but, to save trouble, cultivated a lily that didn’t require meticulous care. I splashed cold water on my face, the chill stinging my nerves, clearing my head somewhat. I changed and went downstairs. In the dining room, Rhys was already seated at the head of the table, eating breakfast. He wore a tailored dark suit, his hair neatly combed-once again the aloof CEO. Last night’s wildness and loss of control seemed to have never happened. “Morning.” When he saw me descend, he didn’t even look up, just gave a faint acknowledgment. His tablet displayed stock market trends. Breakfast on the table was lavish. But there was no hot milk, which I loved. Only Seraphina’s preferred items: whole wheat toast and black coffee. Rhys suffered from severe stomach problems, yet he forced himself to eat these non-stomach-friendly foods with Seraphina, and this habit had continued into our marriage. “I’m not eating.” I stood by the table, my voice very soft. Rhys finally looked up, his brow furrowed, seemingly displeased by my unusual behavior. “What’s with the tantrum?” He set his coffee cup down, the ceramic clinking against the table. “Did I hurt you last night?” His tone held a hint of casual teasing, yet it sent shivers down my spine. “Rhys.” It was the first time I’d called him by his full name. Rhys raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, watching me with an amused expression, as if observing a cat that had suddenly bared its claws. “Let’s get a divorce.” The air froze for three seconds. Rhys scoffed, as if he’d heard the most ridiculous joke. “Elara, that’s not funny at all.” He stood up and walked over to me, looking down. The oppressive pressure was overwhelming. “Divorce? Without me, how will you survive?” “Who will pay the exorbitant medical bills for your brother, the vegetable in the private hospital? Who will sort out your messy debts?” With each sentence he spoke, my face grew paler. He was right. He held my lifeline in his hand. For five years, he had been my god, my sky, my only refuge in this cruel world. That’s why he was so reckless. I took a deep breath, pulled a document from my bag, and placed it on the table. “I’ve already signed the agreement.” “I’ll find a way to pay for Liam’s medical expenses myself. As for those debts, I don’t care about them anymore.” I looked up, my eyes, which were always docile and gentle, now held a desolate resolve. “Rhys, I don’t love you anymore.” Rhys’s face instantly darkened. The pressure in the air became suffocating. He didn’t like hearing that. Even a dog kept for five years, if it suddenly tried to run away, its owner would be displeased. Let alone a woman who, no matter how much he neglected her, would always wait obediently at home. “Are you sure?” His voice was as cold as ice shards. “Once you walk out that door, don’t even think about coming back.” “Elara, you’d better not regret this.” I didn’t speak. I turned, without a hint of reluctance. No luggage, no jewelry he’d given me, not even the expensive hearing aids. I took them off and placed them next to the divorce agreement on the table. They held too many of his fake affections and cruel murmurs. I didn’t want them anymore. The world returned to silence. I pushed open the heavy villa door. The late autumn wind, carrying fallen leaves, blew into my face. It was cold, but I felt an unprecedented sense of freedom. This time, I didn’t look back.

Rhys POV I stared at the signed divorce agreement on the table, and the pair of lonely hearing aids beside it. An inexplicable irritation welled up inside me. It felt like a puppet I’d always controlled suddenly cutting its strings and collapsing to the ground. “Throw these away,” I coldly instructed my assistant. The assistant cautiously asked, “Mr. Blackwood, Mrs. Blackwood, she…” “Don’t bother with her,” I tugged at my tie, my eyes dark. “No money, no power, and deaf. She won’t last three days out there.” I knew Elara too well. Weak, dependent, like a helpless vine that needs to cling to a strong tree to survive. This was just a ploy, trying to play hard to get. Was she jealous because of that call last night? Women always resorted to such tricks to get attention. I picked up my car keys and strode out of the villa. But that empty room seemed even colder than usual. On my way to the office, I received a call from Seraphina. “Rhys, I’m waiting for you at the club.” Her voice was soft and sweet, with a hint of a playful whine. My brow smoothed out, and that inexplicable irritation deep inside me was suppressed. This was the life our social class was supposed to have. A vibrant, radiant woman who could stand beside me. Not Elara, who only knew how to be silent, who would only look at me with innocent eyes. The luxury private club in the city center. Seraphina was wearing a seasonal haute couture trench coat, her makeup impeccable, just as she had been years ago. When she saw me enter, she immediately stood up and fluttered into my arms like a butterfly. “Rhys, I missed you so much.” My body stiffened slightly, then I raised my arms and hugged her back. The familiar scent of her perfume, the familiar touch. But for some reason, what flashed through my mind was Elara’s desolate eyes this morning. And that sentence: “I don’t love you anymore.” “What’s wrong?” Seraphina noticed my distraction, looking up, a hint of curiosity in her cat-like eyes. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” “No,” I collected my thoughts, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Why did you suddenly come back?” “I got bored over there,” Seraphina linked her arm through mine and sat down, mentioning casually, “I heard your little mute wife ran away?” My movements froze, and I looked at her. Seraphina stuck out her tongue. “Don’t look at me like that, everyone in the circle is talking about it. They say Mr. Blackwood is charming, and as soon as he reconciled with his first love, his wife stepped aside.” She chuckled, somewhat triumphantly. “But she does have self-awareness. She knew I was coming back, so she made way.” I frowned. For some reason, hearing Seraphina refer to Elara with such disdain made me deeply uncomfortable. “She’s not mute,” I corrected coldly. Seraphina was startled, then whined, “I just said it casually. She’s just a stand-in, are you feeling bad for her?” Stand-in. Those two words felt like thorns pricking my heart. I used to think that too. Elara was just Seraphina’s shadow. But now, the shadow was gone, and something felt profoundly wrong. The waiter brought coffee. I picked up the cup and took a sip, my brows tightly knit. It’s bitter. At home, Elara always remembered to add half a sugar cube to my coffee-my preferred sweetness. Not too much, not too little, just right. “Why is this coffee so bad?” I impatiently set the cup down. Seraphina looked a little bewildered. “But this is the espresso you used to love the most. It hasn’t changed.” She was right, it hadn’t changed. The person had. My phone suddenly rang. It was my assistant. “Mr. Blackwood, it’s bad,” the assistant’s voice was anxious. “The hospital just called. Elara just took her brother away.” My eyelids twitched. “Took him where?” “We don’t know. She completed the discharge procedures, paid all the fees, and left directly with him. We can’t track her whereabouts.” Paid all the fees? Where did she get the money? The veins on the back of my hand, clutching the phone, bulged. Elara didn’t have money. She had never touched the card I gave her. She only used a small amount of living expenses each month; the rest she saved… No, wait. I suddenly remembered that two years ago, Elara had apparently sold a painting. She was a graduate of a prestigious art academy. Although not famous, her painting skills were excellent. How much did that painting sell for? I hadn’t cared at all at the time. “Find them,” my voice was terribly dark, like the sea before a storm. “Search the entire city! Find her!” I hung up, my face ashen. Seraphina was startled by my appearance, cautiously tugging at my sleeve. “Rhys, what’s wrong? Is that mute… is that woman important to you?” I shook off her hand, stood up, and looked down at the woman I had yearned for five years. Suddenly, I felt utterly indifferent. “I have to go.” With that, I strode away, ignoring Seraphina’s stunned expression. My car sped down the highway. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, pressing the accelerator to the floor. Elara. Good for you. You’d better pray I don’t catch you. Otherwise… I didn’t even know what “otherwise” would entail. All I knew was that the hollow space in my chest was filled with cold wind, a sharp, aching pain.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “369096”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance