Category: English

My dad booked my high school entrance physical. While getting my blood drawn, I heard the nurse confirm: “Is this the sample for the bone marrow match?” I froze. That wasn’t on my physical form. And a match? A match for whom? She accidentally dropped the lab requisition form. As she bent to pick it up, a few lines of text stabbed into my eyes: Patient: Sophia Wu. Diagnosis: Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Guardian Signature: David Wu. I picked it up to confirm. It was definitely my dad, David Wu’s, handwriting. Who is Sophia Wu? Why is my dad her guardian? I immediately called my dad. “Dad, why does a school physical need a bone marrow match?” His voice paused, a hint of panic creeping in. “The hospital must have made a mistake, right? But it’s just a test, doing one or two extra won’t hurt.” I smiled and said okay. After hanging up, I went straight to the ward listed on the form. 1 Walking into the ward, I saw the girl lying in the bed. She was pale and frail. Her eyes and brows looked almost exactly like my dad’s. My heart sank. Clenching my fists, I walked over and asked: “Are you Sophia?” She was stunned, looking up at me. Before she could speak, a woman’s voice came from behind. I turned around. It was her mother. She looked to be in her thirties, young, dressed simply, with the air of a gentle wife and mother. She looked a bit flustered, her face pale, her hands trembling slightly. “You must be Sophia’s classmate?” Her voice was urgent and a bit shaky as she came up to pull me away. “She needs to rest. Come outside for a moment, I have something to tell you.” I didn’t refuse and followed her out of the ward. In the hallway, she visibly relaxed and hesitated before speaking: “You are…” I held up the requisition form and questioned her directly: “Why is my father’s signature on your daughter’s guardian line?” “Ma’am, what is your relationship with my father?” The hospital hallway was busy with people coming and going, some even recognizing her as they passed. She hadn’t expected me to lay my cards on the table so directly. Her expression grew even more nervous as she forced a smile to greet acquaintances. Then, with a strained smile, she explained to me: “That signature… my daughter is sick, and a charity organization is sponsoring her. The person in charge was there when we paid the fees, so he just signed it.” “My daughter has the same last name as me, Wu. It’s just a coincidence, don’t overthink it.” Her words were gentle, trying to avoid suspicion. But her gaze on me revealed a trace of malice and covetousness. I met her eyes directly. She looked guilty and subconsciously tucked her hair behind her ear. I saw the diamond ring on her hand clearly. It was familiar. It was a designer piece. And it was from my mom’s favorite designer. This reclusive designer had released a new collection recently, which the industry was buzzing about. It just happened to coincide with my parents’ wedding anniversary. I had secretly reminded my dad to snatch up this diamond ring for my mom as an anniversary gift. He agreed and asked me to keep it a secret, saying he planned to surprise Mom. But on the anniversary, what he brought out wasn’t the limited edition at all, but a common co-branded piece available in any store. Even the stones on it were cubic zirconia. My dad explained that he got the time wrong due to the time difference during an international meeting and missed it. He could only use the co-branded piece as a placeholder and would find someone to contact the designer for a custom piece later. Turns out, he didn’t miss it. He just gave it to another woman. And used a perfunctory gift to dismiss my mom. I gritted my teeth, suppressing the surging anger. Staring at Grace’s awkward expression, my smile didn’t reach my eyes: “Ma’am, your ring is beautiful. Is it the designer limited edition?” “My mom waited a long time but couldn’t buy it.” She probably didn’t expect a kid like me to recognize it. Her movements froze instantly, her face turning ugly. She hurriedly pulled her hair forward to cover the ring, stammering an excuse: “What designer edition… I don’t understand these things. My daughter bought it for me casually, it’s not worth much.” “I have to take care of my child, I’m leaving now.” “By the way, please don’t spread rumors about today, lest your family misunderstands.” With that, she turned in a panic and fled back to the ward. Watching her wretched escape, I sneered inwardly. Heh. A coward with no guts. Without looking back, I turned and left the hospital. Sitting in the car, I immediately contacted my grandfather’s assistant: “Help me check my dad’s recent unusual activities, especially his travel itinerary and financial transactions.” “Be quick, but be careful not to alert him.” “Save any evidence immediately.” 2 When I got home, my mom was stewing soup in the kitchen. My dad was busy with business when he was young and ate irregularly, resulting in serious stomach problems. He had undergone two stomach resection surgeries. My mom felt sorry for him. Someone who never cooked, she went into the kitchen especially for him. Soups, porridges, medicinal meals… She managed to nurse his stomach back to 70-80% health. From what I can remember, it’s been almost ten years now. In two days, it will be my parents’ 20th wedding anniversary. Yet at this moment, I discovered my dad was cheating. Watching her busy back in the kitchen, the resentment in my heart turned into sadness, and I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. She was over forty, but she kept her figure well and her skin was tight. She looked about thirty. Only those hands, with slightly enlarged knuckles, calluses on the palms, and a few pale old scars on the back. She used to love getting manicures, but later stopped because it was inconvenient for cooking. I walked into the kitchen and hugged her gently from behind. She was startled, then laughed and teased me: “You’re back? You’re about to be a high schooler, why are you still acting like a baby?” “Go out quickly, it’s smoky in here, I’m busy.” Seeing I didn’t move, she sensed something was wrong. Turning around, she saw my tear-streaked face and immediately looked nervous. “Lily, why are you crying? Didn’t you go for a physical? Dad didn’t go with you? Let me ask…” She reached for her phone as she spoke. I grabbed her wrist and shook my head hard. “Don’t call him!” My mom froze, looking at me uneasily, waiting for me to speak. I closed my eyes tight, my throat tight: “My dad… he’s cheating.” “The woman’s name is Grace Wu. She used to be his secretary.” My movements were stiff, my fingers trembling slightly as I took out the tablet from my bag. The screen lit up, showing the information Uncle Feng, my grandfather’s assistant, had helped me investigate. The light from the screen illuminated Mom’s pale face. I scrolled through the pages, showing her item by item. “They got together not long after she joined the company. That was when… you just got pregnant with me.” “Less than half a year later, she resigned because she was pregnant. My dad bought a large flat in the Cloud Mansion near our house, and the owner is her.” “When you were suffering in late pregnancy, swollen all over and unable to sleep, my dad was over there making pregnancy meals for her; when you were fighting for your life during a difficult labor, he was massaging her and walking with her to relieve pain.” “When you were lying in the hospital bed after the C-section, he was accompanying that woman for her checkups, telling her to walk more so she wouldn’t have to suffer a C-section later.” “Mom, that illegitimate daughter is only six months younger than me. He cheated while you were pregnant.” I cried as I spoke, tears falling on the tablet screen, blooming into small wet marks. My mom stared blankly at the text and photos, her eyes gradually turning red and filling with tears. “How could he…” “Dating, marriage, twenty years. How could he…” I hugged her tight, took a deep breath, and continued. “Mom, do you remember the fire at our house when I was little?” She nodded, her voice even hoarser: “Of course I remember. I was on a business trip, your dad was working and taking care of you. He turned around and you set the curtains on fire… He risked his life to save you, terrified, guarding you in the hospital, saying if you were gone, he couldn’t live either.” “Later, when you got out of the ICU, he was so nervous, following you everywhere, often waking up at night to check on you, and constantly comforting me, saying it was all his fault… At that time, I thought he really loved you and cared about this family.” Speaking of this, her words revealed a trace of cold sarcasm. I continued to scroll the screen, my finger stopping on an investigation report. “What if I said that fire wasn’t an accident at all?” “He thought I was asleep and was in a hurry to see that mother and daughter. He threw an unextinguished cigarette butt into the trash can.” “The window wasn’t closed, the wind blew the curtain in, and it caught fire. He locked me in the room… I had no ability to save myself.” “And he didn’t save me. A neighbor found out and called the police. Firefighters broke down the door and carried me out to the hospital. He… rushed there later.” “I was only a few years old then, and kept drifting in and out of consciousness, so I couldn’t remember exactly what happened.” “Do you think he followed me everywhere during that time because he loved me? He was afraid I would suddenly remember and tell you the truth… He was afraid you would turn against him and he would lose the resources and connections from Grandpa’s side.” My eyes burned, unable to distinguish between grievance and anger. The happiness I thought I had turned out to be a meticulously arranged scam. Grievance piled up to the peak and turned into anger. I hated him. I hated him for lying to Mom, and even more for giving me this fake love like charity for so many years. What are we in his eyes? But seeing Mom’s state, only heartache remained. She was the one hurt the deepest. I wanted to say more, but my phone rang suddenly. It was the hospital. “Hello, is this student Lily Wu? There are some indicators in your physical report that need to be rechecked. Please ask your parent to bring you to the hospital for a detailed checkup as soon as possible.” I was stunned, trying to make my voice sound calm: “Okay, I know.” Just after hanging up, my mom’s and my phones vibrated almost simultaneously. Sent to me: 【Lily, the hospital called saying you need a recheck. Dad will go with you the day after tomorrow.】 Sent to Mom: 【Honey, the French designer you like is holding a private exhibition next week. A friend sent two invitation tickets for the afternoon after tomorrow. You go, relax a bit.】 The day after tomorrow, exactly when I go to the hospital for the recheck. He specifically sent Mom away, wanting to take me alone to… Mom and I looked at each other, neither speaking. I really wanted to know, what expression would he have when his conspiracy was exposed? 3 On the day of the recheck, I arrived at the hospital with my dad. While waiting for a red light, he picked up his phone and sent a voice message to my mom. “Honey, did you get to the art center? Is parking convenient there?” He was testing the waters. Soon, Mom replied. “Arrived, queuing to enter. Parking was a bit far, walked a bit.” She also attached a photo. A photo of her and a friend at the art center. My dad clicked to enlarge it, then followed up: “Heard ‘Morning Mist’ is on display this time, did you see it? Remember you like that painter very much.” A few minutes later, Mom sent a photo of the interior of the exhibition hall. “Saw it, more shocking than in the album. A bit crowded, talk later.” My dad seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He turned his head and gave me an impeccable smile: “Your mom can finally relax a bit.” Hypocrite. I pulled the corner of my mouth, the smile not reaching my eyes. At the hospital, he dutifully played the role of a good father. Recheck, examination, inquiry… He even carefully covered my eyes when blood was drawn. If I hadn’t discovered his affair and another daughter… I would probably rely on this tenderness and nestle in his arms like before. The process went quickly. After getting the blood draw receipt, he glanced at his watch, his tone natural. “Lily, wait here for a moment, don’t run around. Dad needs to use the restroom, back in a jiffy.” “Okay.” I lowered my eyes and answered softly. The direction he went was the hematology ward. After a while, I got up and quietly followed. The ward door was slightly ajar. I stood outside, looking through the crack. My dad was sitting by the bed, feeding Sophia medicine. The girl leaned on him with full dependence, crying. “Dad, I’m scared…” “Will I die? I don’t want to leave you and Mom…” My dad gently wiped away her tears, his tone very gentle. “Silly child, what nonsense.” “Dad found you the best doctors in the country and used the best medicine. Look, isn’t Dad always here with you? Our Sophia is the bravest, you’ll definitely get through this.” Grace also leaned over, stroking her daughter’s cheek: “Sophia, don’t be afraid, Mom and Dad are here. Your dad pushed aside so much work for you, running to the hospital every day, contacting this expert and that professor… Did you forget last time you suddenly had a fever in the middle of the night? Your dad was at a meeting abroad, took a red-eye flight back immediately after getting the call, and guarded you for two days and nights without closing his eyes. With Dad here, there’s nothing to fear.” The family of three was happy and harmonious. I stood outside like a clown. I remembered when I was eight, acute pneumonia, high fever almost 104 degrees, coughing my lungs out. Mom rushed me to the hospital, her hands shaking with panic. Called him, again and again, finally he only replied with a text: “With an important client, can’t leave, sorry for the trouble.” That whole night, it was Mom holding me alone in the emergency infusion room until dawn. Later I learned, that night, Sophia made a fuss not letting him go out. The so-called “important client” was accompanying them. My fingernails dug deep into my palm, but I felt no pain. Suddenly someone put an arm around my shoulder. It was Mom. She signaled me with her eyes that it was okay. At this time, the attending physician smiled and spoke: “Mr. Wu, Mrs. Wu, don’t worry. Although little Sophia’s indicators have fluctuated a bit recently, they are generally controllable. With the support of dedicated parents like you, the child’s good mentality is crucial for treatment. Our expert group has repeatedly deliberated the bone marrow transplant plan, and now we can operate as soon as the donor is ready.” “As long as it can save Sophia, anything is worth it.” My dad looked at Sophia, his voice firm. As long as it can save Sophia. What about me? Me, treated as a “donor.” Are my wishes, my health, worth considering? My heart ached numbly. My dad turned to the doctor, his tone steady. “I’ve already settled things with the donor. The relevant procedures can be completed today.” “Please take care of the surgery and arrange it as soon as possible.” Next to him, an elderly expert nodded in agreement: “Mr. Wu is truly resolute and cares so much about the child’s affairs.” “Rest assured, the operating room is ready. Once the donor finishes the final pre-op checks and preparations, we can proceed.” “With a father like you who has abundant social resources and is hands-on, the child is truly blessed.” The head nurse beside him also lamented: “Yes, Mr. Wu comes almost every day, we all see it. It’s rare to find a man who is successful in his career yet so family-oriented and responsible.” Another doctor added: “I heard Mr. Wu not only runs around for his daughter’s illness but also initiated a special relief fund in his own name to help families in similar difficulties. This benevolence is even more worthy of our admiration.” The ward was full of compliments and praise. Elevating him into a perfect father and philanthropist. Applause erupted as the words fell. The atmosphere was enthusiastic. Mom took my hand and pushed the door open, her voice cold and hard: “David Wu, is the recheck you mentioned just tricking my daughter here to be a donor for your bastard?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390949”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our wedding anniversary, my husband’s ten-year-long research into a time machine finally succeeded. He intended to take our son back to the past to reunite with his deceased first love. As they were leaving, our son rolled his eyes at me and sneered, “You’re just a housekeeper. Don’t hold up Dad from seeing Aunt Clara!” My husband, his face cold and indifferent, added, “Eleanor Vance, I’ve already sold this house. Please move out as soon as possible.” I smirked. “You two better not regret this.” I followed them to the laboratory. In the final second before the machine activated, I reached out my hand towards the shimmering portal. They had no idea that I had waited ten long years for this exact moment—to save my original husband and daughter. 1 Dr. Michael Darabont’s research had finally paid off. He was going to take our son, Liam Darabont, and travel back in time, ten years into the past. And I, Eleanor Vance, had seen this news on a TV broadcast. Today was our tenth wedding anniversary. I had just finished making dinner, waiting for him to come home. The moment he walked through the door, I greeted him. “Michael, I’ve cooked all your favorite dishes to celebrate our ten-year anniversary.” Michael merely sighed softly. “Eleanor, we’re done. You’ve diligently looked after Liam and me for ten years, but I still can’t forget Clara.” Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his cold, clear eyes held no emotion, as if he were discussing something utterly mundane. I held the scalding hot plate, yet felt nothing. Gazing at the man in the crisp suit before me, I instinctively searched for the mole at the corner of his eye. “Michael, are you… divorcing me?” “My research is complete. I’m going to find Clara.” he stated. My fingertips, scalded crimson by the plate, belatedly released it. The dish instantly crashed to the floor, delicate cuisine scattering everywhere. My eyes widened in disbelief. “You… you’re going back? Ten years into the past?” Clara Sink was Michael’s first love; she had died ten years ago in an accident, and Michael had never forgotten her. “Yes. I’ll take Liam with me.” A faint smile flickered in his eyes, as if anticipating a reunion with Clara. I stepped forward, frantically grabbing his arm. “What about me, Michael? What do I count as? Today is our ten-year wedding anniversary…” “Eleanor Vance, this is where we end.” Michael ruthlessly pried my fingers off his arm, one by one. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, yet I felt no pain. “So you’re just going to abandon me?” I then turned to Liam. “Liam, are you abandoning your mother too?” My son, whom I had nurtured with all my heart, rolled his eyes at me. He walked to Michael’s side and surveyed me with a slightly disdainful look. “You’re old and ugly, always at home like a drab housewife. You’re nothing like Aunt Clara. Don’t hold up Dad and me from going back to find her. I want Aunt Clara to be my mom!” Looking at the two of them, a storm of emotions churned within me. When Liam was sick, I stayed awake for nights, my eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion, tending to him. Back then, he would hold my little finger like a tiny dumpling, calling me “Mommy,” bringing me origami cranes he made in kindergarten art class, and sweetly calling me “Mommy.” But as he grew older, he only complained that I was nagging, like a housekeeper, not as glamorous as other mothers. “Face reality. I won’t be coming back. And this house? I’ve signed a deed of donation, giving it to the foundation I established for Clara. As for you, pack your bags and move out as soon as possible.” Michael added. I found it almost laughable. They were leaving, and they still didn’t forget to donate the house to Clara Sink’s foundation? “Alright,” I took a deep breath. “I hope you don’t regret this.” “Regret? I’d only regret not being with Clara!” Michael stated, every word distinct. With that, he and Liam got into the car and drove away. He didn’t notice that I was driving another car, following closely behind them. Inside the lab, Michael and Liam’s eyes gleamed with excitement and anticipation. On the table, a machine pulsed with blinding light. “Dad, can this really take us back to Aunt Clara?” Liam’s round eyes swiveled, filled with curiosity. “Yes,” Michael curved his lips. Hearing Liam mention Clara Sink, a rare tenderness flickered across his face. It was a look I had never seen before. At his words, Liam’s eyes lit up. “I love Aunt Clara the most! Aunt Clara is so beautiful, like a fairy. Mom, on the other hand, looks like a drab old housewife. I don’t want a drab housewife as my mom.” Michael stroked his head. “Don’t worry. When we go back, Aunt Clara will be your mom.” Look. My decade of care and companionship meant so little to them, they were even willing to risk time travel to go back and find Clara Sink. But none of that mattered anymore. As the father and son disappeared into the shimmering portal, I rushed forward, taking three steps at a time, and reached out to touch the machine just as the light was about to fade. The next second, a powerful force pulled me in. When I regained my senses, I was standing on an empty road, everything both unfamiliar and familiar. I had truly returned to ten years ago. A wild joy surged through me, but then a voice beside me suddenly asked, “What are you doing here?” I looked up, meeting Michael’s dark eyes. “You’re not following us to cause trouble, are you? Eleanor Vance, give it up. Even if you come back, there’s no way we’ll be together.” His brow was deeply furrowed, his face etched with defensiveness. “Bad woman, don’t hurt Dad and Aunt Clara!” The four-year-old Liam stood in front of Michael, his small fists clenched, as if I were his enemy. I pursed my lips, speaking with a feigned bewildered expression, “Excuse me, have you mistaken me for someone else?” Michael paused, his expression still full of distrust. “Mistaken you? You think putting on that act will make me believe you, Eleanor Vance? What are you really up to?!” I ignored Michael, turning to leave. “Don’t you dare move!” Michael grabbed my wrist. “You explain yourself. Were you deliberately following us? Are you trying to ruin things between Clara and me?” He gripped my wrist so hard it hurt. I forcefully pulled away, stumbling a few steps and bumping into someone behind me. A girl behind me gasped, and just as I was about to apologize, a sharp slap landed on my cheek. Michael spat on the ground. “Eleanor Vance, you truly are malicious!” I gritted my teeth and looked up, only to see Michael holding the girl I had bumped into. He looked at her as if she were a treasured possession he had lost and found again. “Clara, are you alright?” he asked in a low, gentle voice. “Are you blind?” Liam yelled, then scurried to Clara’s side, his face filled with worry. Oh, so they could care about people? I remembered when I was doubled over with acute gastroenteritis, barely able to get out of bed, and asked Michael to buy me medicine. He frowned, coldly saying, “Can’t you buy it yourself? I have a project at the institute; I’m very busy.” Then he grabbed his bag and left without looking back, leaving me, pale and almost fainting from pain, in the room. I asked Liam to call a doctor for me, but Liam was playing games on his phone, impatiently glancing at me. “Wait until I finish this round.” It wasn’t until hours later, when the cleaning lady found me passed out from pain and called an ambulance, that I barely survived. But now, Clara Sink was merely accidentally bumped, and my son was mocking me, and Michael even hit me! How truly absurd. Clara, leaning in Michael’s arms, her small face pale, her eyes slightly red-rimmed, looked as if she had suffered a terrible injustice. “Eleanor Vance, apologize to Clara!” Michael turned to me, still sitting on the ground, his face livid with rage. “I’m fine, this young lady didn’t mean it…” Clara bit her lip and began to speak. “Michael, who is she?” Michael paused. “She…” “Aunt Clara, she’s a bad woman who likes my dad!” Liam immediately interjected. Hearing Liam’s words, Clara’s gaze towards me flickered. “Oh, is that so… I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” she murmured, lowering her eyes. “No, I have nothing to do with her.” Michael hastily explained, disassociating himself from me. A decade of marital affection dismissed with a flimsy “nothing to do with her.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh, struggling to get up from the ground. “Sir, I don’t even know you, yet you pushed me and hit me, and now you’re saying strange things. Are you unwell?” “Stop pretending! You’re here. Who would believe you weren’t following me?” Michael’s brow was deeply furrowed, his gaze filled with disgust. “I told you, I will never like you. Stop bothering me.” “Exactly! Dad only likes Aunt Clara, you give up!” Liam chimed in from the side. Just then, a familiar yet unfamiliar male voice came from across the street. “Simon!” I looked up towards the source of the voice, a man in a white shirt and dress pants was waiting at the traffic light on the opposite side. He held an ice cream cone in his left hand and was holding the hand of a lovely, delicate little girl with his right. The little girl was waving at me. My fingers trembled uncontrollably, and my nose began to sting with tears. The red light turned green. He picked up the girl with one arm, lifted his foot, and was about to walk over. “Simon! Don’t move!” Seeing the scene, I couldn’t care about anything else and shrieked. Simon was startled by my shout. He paused, stopping in his tracks. The next second, a large truck, having run a red light, sped past, narrowly missing him. My heart felt as if it had been squeezed, and a drowning sensation of suffocation left me gasping for air. After triple-checking that there were no more cars, Simon finally ran over to me with the child in his arms. “That really scared me just now,” he said, putting the child down and patting his chest, still shaken. Then he handed me a pink ice cream cone. “Here, Eleanor, your favorite strawberry ice cream.” He curved his lips, his eyes full of warmth. “Simon… Elara…” Looking at these two faces I hadn’t seen in ten years, I was still somewhat dazed. Simon tucked the ice cream into my hand and gently ruffled my hair. “What’s wrong? I just went to buy you an ice cream, why do you look like you’re about to cry?” “Mommy, what’s wrong?” Elara’s tender voice asked, and she held out her tiny hand to me. “Elara wants a hug from Mommy.” My heart pounded rapidly. I took a deep breath, bent down, and picked up Elara, kissing her cheek. “Mommy’s fine. Mommy just missed Elara so much.” “Why is your cheek a little swollen? What happened just now?” Simon noticed my injury with a keen eye. I shook my head. “Nothing. Just got bitten by two mad dogs.” “Who are you calling mad dogs?” Michael glared at Simon and Elara, his face as black as a pot. “Whoever answers is a mad dog.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Dad… this person… he looks a lot like you…” Liam tugged at Michael’s sleeve, suddenly speaking in a small voice. His words were like adding fuel to the fire. Michael immediately demanded, “Eleanor Vance, who are they?” I blinked, looking at the beautiful mole beneath Michael’s eye, and then at Simon, who had a similar mole in the same spot. Not that similar, perhaps, but their features certainly bore a striking resemblance, almost like a ghostly echo. “Sir, this is my husband and my daughter. I’ve already told you that you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” I said slowly, licking my ice cream. “I don’t know you.” Seeing Michael’s unfriendly tone, Simon immediately stepped in front of me, frowning. “Who are you? Please don’t harass my wife and daughter.” “Wife? Daughter? Ha! Eleanor Vance, why didn’t I ever notice that you had someone else behind my back? You certainly have a knack for it!” Michael felt completely deceived, his pride wounded, but I insisted I didn’t know him, leaving him with a helpless feeling, like punching cotton. “Michael…” Seeing how angry Michael was, Clara couldn’t help but interject, “Don’t be angry, didn’t you say you had nothing to do with her?” “Yes, of course, nothing to do with her.” Michael snorted coldly. “Eleanor Vance, you’ll regret coming to beg me!” “You’re overthinking it.” I said coldly. “Dad, Aunt Clara, let’s go to the amusement park!” Liam, upon seeing his beloved Clara, had no interest in watching Michael and me argue. He couldn’t help but urge them to leave. Michael pursed his lips, his jawline sharp enough to cut me. He clenched his fist in suppressed anger, finally dropping a curt, “Fine, you’re on your own.” Then he took Clara and Liam and walked away. I glanced at the backs of the three of them, then indifferently pulled my gaze away. “Eleanor, let’s go home.” Simon took my hand, his warm fingers intertwining with mine. He didn’t know that I had waited ten years for those words, “Let’s go home.” “Simon…” The ice cream in my hand slipped and fell to the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging both him and Elara. Tears finally streamed down my face. “I’ve missed you so much, Simon…” I sobbed uncontrollably, my snot and tears soaking his collar. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Seeing me crying so hard I was gasping for breath, Simon visibly panicked. He fumbled, pulling out tissues to wipe my tears, while gently patting my back. “Eleanor, did that man just now bully you? What happened while I was buying ice cream? Don’t cry. I’ll go teach him a lesson!” Simon shook his fist, pretending to chase after Michael. I hugged him tightly, muffling, “No, Simon, don’t leave me, not for a minute.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390966”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My dad doesn’t like me. He called me a liar, said I was just like my mother—always faking illness and playing the victim for sympathy. He only ever loved his childhood sweetheart. Growing up, I was bullied by classmates, abused by the hired help. Dad turned a blind eye. Five years after my mother’s death, I finally saw the first person visit her grave. It was Dad. He broke precedent and came home on the anniversary of her death. He handed me a legal document: A Severance of Parental Rights. “I’ve supported you until eighteen. I’ve done my duty.” I didn’t cry or scream. I calmly signed my name, ready to start a new life. Later, on my birthday, he found me holding a strawberry cake, begging softly, “Lily, please come home with Dad, okay?” I shook my head. “No.” 1 I was a bastard with no father and no mother. Mom died five years ago. My impression of Dad was blurry and strange. When I was four or five, I tugged at his coat, wanting a hug. He didn’t hug me. Later, when Mom died, I cried and screamed. He told the nanny to cover my mouth. When I grew older, Dad stopped caring about me entirely, leaving me to the nannies and servants. I missed him, so I snuck into his office building to find him, then followed him to a small, elegant townhouse. A mother and daughter lived there. The nanny who took care of me said: They were Dad’s true love and real family. And I was nothing. Growing up, whenever a parent was needed, he never showed up. In the eyes of outsiders, I was no different from an orphan. I never expected him to come with me to visit Mom’s grave today. 2 I grew up hearing that Mom was just a country girl working in a hotel. Vulgar, uneducated. She got pregnant by accident and became Mrs. Vance. But after the marriage, she was depressed because of her husband’s neglect. After giving birth to me, she suffered from postpartum depression and died a few years later. Dad only showed a little emotion towards her on their wedding day and the day she died. Other times, this woman was no different from a stranger to him. His heart belonged entirely to his true love, Elena. I’d seen Aunt Elena many times. She was gentle, intellectual, beautiful, and elegant. In her youth, she was the only daughter of a high-ranking official, but her family fell from grace due to corruption. Dad couldn’t marry her then. So he could only keep her in his heart, protecting and cherishing her. Aunt Elena was the moon, the beautiful moonlight in the sky that couldn’t be touched. Mom and I were weeds in the dirt, left to weather the wind and rain, our lives irrelevant to him. So even when he knew Mom was sick, and later noticed I was bullied by the servants, he never extended a helping hand. Because I was the product of an accident, I shouldn’t even share his blood. My existence was a permanent symbol of his betrayal of Elena. 3 When Dad took out the severance agreement, we had just finished dinner at home. Pizza and pasta. These were the favorites of Aunt Elena’s daughter, Chloe. Dad subconsciously assumed all girls my age liked pizza. I actually didn’t, but to make him happy, I ate two-thirds of it, wiped the grease from my mouth, and said it was delicious. With the severance agreement in front of me, I felt like a rat stealing oil in the gutter, instantly beaten back to my true form. “Lily Vance, you’re eighteen now. My supporting you until today is the fulfillment of my duty.” Yes. Dad wasn’t wrong. He had money. Endless money. He hired servants to take care of me, pick me up from school, prepare three meals a day, and gave them allowances to give me daily. This was his way of caring for a daughter he didn’t love. He prepared a room full of dolls for Chloe. No matter how busy he was during holidays, he would be by her side. Before she was fourteen, they traveled the world. Photos of their trips were in his wallet, in his car. That was his way of truly loving. “I know you might blame me, but you can understand Dad, right?” He sighed. I looked up and realized this handsome, dashing man had a few gray hairs at his temples. His voice was full of bitterness. “I ask myself, in these eighteen years, I haven’t mistreated you in terms of food, clothing, or shelter.” “But your Aunt Elena has followed me for half a lifetime without any status. I don’t want her to be lonely and helpless anymore. I should take responsibility and give her a home, a title.” 4 The pen glided smoothly; the paper was crisp. In less than a minute, I signed both copies and handed them to Dad. His face was wooden, perhaps from too much happiness. “Check if there are any issues.” He glanced down, then at me, his gaze strange and peculiar. “Aren’t you going to make any demands?” “In front of you, I’ve never had the right to make demands.” The Vance family inheritance, the house, the money. I couldn’t ask for any of it. If I showed even a hint of greed, Dad’s other daughter, Chloe, would be unhappy. Even though she shared no blood with Dad, the love and care she received were forever beyond my reach. Knowing my place was also saving myself some dignity. “True.” Dad sighed in relief. “Your grandfather left you quite a bit of money when he passed. That should be enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life.” I didn’t argue. Calmly, I said, “I’ll live in the school dorms from now on. There isn’t much of mine here, so I won’t be coming back.” I dug into my pocket, placed the key on the table. “I’ll tell the housekeeper to delete my fingerprint from the lock.” Perhaps my calmness exceeded his expectations, and his attitude softened. “You can continue to live here. I won’t be coming back anyway.” I stood up and put on my backpack, refusing his final act of charity. “Uncle, I have to go back to school.” The word “Uncle” came out smoothly. When I was little, in front of outsiders, he forbade me from calling him Dad. He introduced me as a friend’s child. Signing this agreement or not didn’t make much difference. “I’ll drive you.” He seemed to feel a pang of guilt again. “It’s far from here to the school.” “No need.” I smiled and declined. “The subway is convenient. I’m used to it.” 5 Actually, the subway took two hours. It wasn’t convenient at all. But Chloe had moved into an apartment near the school long ago, with Aunt Elena accompanying her. During my three years of high school, I saw them near the school more than once. I secretly followed them into the complex. Security was tight; I snuck in behind a resident. That day, I sat downstairs for a long time. Watching the figures moving in the window upstairs, imagining myself as one of them, eating with them, watching TV and eating fruit after dinner. Dad would remember my tastes, affectionately call me Lily, remind me to dress warmly for the rain tomorrow, remember to bring an umbrella, care about my grades, hire tutors for me. But the lights suddenly went out. The curtains were drawn. The whole world seemed to leave me alone again. I desperately wanted Dad’s love, almost masochistically. As a child, I pulled at him, begging him not to leave. Growing up, I imitated TV shows, hurting myself or getting sick, acting like a delinquent to get his attention. Later, I tried to please Grandpa, please the nanny, hoping they would put in a good word for me. But no matter what I did, Dad’s attitude never changed. Only when cutting ties did he feel that sliver of guilt. But just a sliver. The next day, I saw his car at the school gate, picking up Chloe. He looked high-spirited, wearing a beautiful tie, not looking like a man in his forties at all. His face beamed with a relieved smile I hadn’t seen in years. When he saw me… It froze for a second. 6 I wanted to turn and walk away. After all, my presence would affect his happiness. Walking out of the crowd of students, I buried my head, not wanting to see the reunions around me. But Chloe didn’t want to miss this chance to show off. She rushed over, grabbed me, and asked, “Isn’t your family coming to pick you up?” I knew she wanted to see me sad. I nodded calmly, granting her wish: “I have no family. Not a single one.” Mom died. Dad didn’t want me. She gasped “Ah,” as if it were incredible, then loudly called my biological father “Dad” right in front of me. “Dad, let Lily eat with us today. She’s so pitiful alone.” “What’s pitiful?” Dad glanced at me coldly. “She has money, she won’t starve. Let’s go, your mom is waiting.” I wasn’t surprised he said that. It wasn’t the first time. Grandpa said Dad was the first person besides the nurse to hold me when I was born, and the first word I said was “Dada.” They say blood is thicker than water, but for him, romantic love far outweighed paternal love. Maybe when I was an infant, Dad loved me. But as I grew up, becoming sensible and independent, his love and responsibility faded. I guess that’s where the severance agreement came from. “It’s okay, Dad. Lily is your daughter too.” “She is not.” Taking Chloe’s hand, he didn’t look at me once, completely denying my existence as his daughter. “Dad only has Chloe as a daughter from now on. Let’s go, we’ll be late.” Dragged away by Dad, Chloe looked back. She stuck out her tongue and winked at me—a provocative expression that said: “See? Even if you’re his biological daughter, so what? He can discard you for me.” Chloe knew best how to stab someone in the heart. From middle school to high school, we were in the same class. She couldn’t stand me. A big reason was we shared the same father. She was loved, grew up in a positive environment, outgoing and cheerful, but she was uniquely hostile to me. Over six years, every classmate who played with me eventually became her best friend. Chloe forbade anyone in class from talking to me, treated me as invisible, ignored my existence. Growing up, I learned this was called isolation. No physical harm, but the blow to the soul was fatal. But the current me wouldn’t be sad over such small things anymore. Surviving the last three months, leaving here forever, leaving this nominal father, was what I truly needed to do. I turned my back. Walking against the crowd. Behind me was Chloe’s coquettish voice: “Dad, what are you looking at?” “Nothing. Let’s go.” 7 After moving out of the villa, I lived in the dorm. The dorm wasn’t big, but it was clean. The single bed was narrow, but it was truly mine. Unlike the house I grew up in. It was big, tall, but standing inside, the bricks were cold, the air was still. Many nights I woke up from nightmares. Staring into the bottomless darkness, I even wished there was a ghost in the house to keep me company, to talk to me. But even ghosts have companions. I could only talk to myself in the mirror. Lights out at 10:30 PM sharp. The phone by my pillow suddenly lit up. My phone was an old model. Unlike Chloe, who changed hers every release. Low memory caused lag; it took some time to open the new message. It was from an unfamiliar number: “Lily, why aren’t you back at the villa?” That tone. I guessed it was Dad. Funny enough, growing up, I never had Dad’s contact info. I once secretly looked through Grandpa’s phone, memorized his number, and called with a trembling heart. I was eight, didn’t have a phone, so I ran to a payphone. It was raining outside the booth. Inside the receiver was Aunt Elena’s voice. She asked: “Who is this?” In the fuzzy background was Dad’s laughter. “Up you go, horsie ride for the little princess.” I hung up. Another time I called was because of the nanny’s bullying. I called crying, only to get Dad saying: “Lily, where did you get my number?” Later, he changed his number. Every time I was helpless, I called, pouring my grievances to a number that would never connect. But now, Dad texted first. I couldn’t muster any excitement. “Yes.” I replied. Dad seemed unhappy. “Even if we cut ties, you didn’t have to run away from home.” Where was I supposed to go? Don’t want me. Won’t let me leave. Was I supposed to be trapped in that cold cage without family or love forever? Where should I go to not be an eyesore to him? “Lily, stop being stubborn. This does you no good. If you think this will gain my sympathy, you’re too naive.” Rare. Dad educating me. When the nanny stripped me naked and whipped me with a hanger; when I wore my fingers raw scratching the door begging for a bite to eat. When I was almost raped by the nanny’s boyfriend, and she slapped me afterward, calling me a seductress slut like my mother. In those moments of agony and despair, how I wished he would come back and look at me. Even to scold me for being weak, for being cowardly. As long as he was by my side. But no. My pleas never received a response from him. Birthing but not raising, yet demanding I live as proudly and healthily as Chloe—Dad was a bit greedy. “Your sympathy is worthless to me, and my business is none of yours.” I took a deep breath, finally determined to mentally cut off this lukewarm kinship. “Your sympathy is worthless to me, and my affairs are none of your business.” After sending the message. I casually dragged the number into the blacklist. People who have cut ties don’t need to contact each other anymore. 8 Having made me suffer in front of Dad last time, Chloe was happy. Her targeted bullying permeated my life. Especially at school, it intensified. My seat was in the last row, alone. No one wanted to sit with me. Looking up, I could see Chloe’s back. She was always surrounded by a crowd. She raised her wrist, showing off the new bracelet her family bought her. “Pretty, right? My dad bought it specially from abroad.” “I know this brand, it’s super expensive.” “So envious. When will my dad be this generous?” “Chloe, your dad treats you so well.” After signing the severance agreement, I completely gave up hope on Dad. Whatever new clothes or jewelry he bought Chloe, I couldn’t muster any interest. But Chloe wouldn’t let me go. I didn’t know how her new bracelet ended up in my bag. When she cried and accused me of being a thief, I almost wanted to laugh. She was still so childish. Childish enough to use the same trick from childhood without getting bored. Because of Chloe’s tears, the homeroom teacher convicted me almost instinctively. “Lily Vance, theft is a serious offense. Since you did this, I have to call your parent.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390983”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The temperature plummeted to -148°F in the apocalypse. My best friend, Chloe, wanted to give all our remaining anthracite coal to her cheating ex-boyfriend. “Jake said he’s cold. If I bring him this coal, he’ll come back to me.” I asked, trembling, “Do I have to give mine too?” Chloe nodded righteously. “Of course. What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine.” “But without coal, we’ll freeze to death.” “So be it! If I freeze to death for him, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life!” “Do I have to die too?” “We’re besties. We do everything together.” In my past life, she gaslighted me, saying we couldn’t survive this extreme weather even with coal, eventually dragging me to freeze to death with her as a sacrifice. I opened my eyes, reborn to the moment she wanted to give our resources to that scumbag. Suddenly, a childish but angry voice echoed in my stomach: [Mom! I don’t want to die!] Coincidence. Mom doesn’t want to either. In this life, one idiot sacrificing herself for love is enough! 1 The digital thermometer froze. Outside temperature: -40°F. The broadcast warned that a polar magnetic storm would hit after dark, dropping temperatures to -148°F. The very air would freeze into powder. All survivors must use government-issued insulation materials to build shelters and use every means to stay warm before sunset! Note: The new insulation material requires a stable, continuous high-heat source to work! In our rental apartment, Chloe was directing me to move supplies. “Move these bags of anthracite coal, and those two boxes of compressed biscuits. We’re taking them to Jake.” Chloe’s cheeks were flushed from the cold and excitement. That coal was our only hope of surviving the night. “Chloe, this is our last stock.” I huddled in the corner of the sofa, voice trembling with fear. “Maybe Jake… doesn’t need this much…” “What do you know!” Chloe snapped her head back. “Jake just texted me saying he’s cold! If I show him I don’t care about my life for him, he’ll leave that vixen and come back to me!” She rushed over, grabbing my collar and forcing me to look at her. “Ava, aren’t we best friends? If you were me, you’d do anything for love too, right?” “If we lose the coal, we’ll freeze to death…” I sobbed, tears welling up. “Then we’ll die for him to see!” Chloe let go, eyes glazed with fanaticism. “He’ll regret it forever and remember me always!” She turned, staring at me dead on. “I saved your life from that sweatshop boss. You owe me.” “You have to come with me to win Jake back!” In my previous life, she chanted this endlessly, making me die with her. But I had already repaid her kindness a hundred times over in our daily lives, refusing her moral kidnapping. So she started manipulating me, eventually drugging me and dragging me to freeze. Before I died, I saw Jake hugging a rich girl, pointing at our corpses through the window, laughing about two idiots delivering free coal. The chill seemed to linger on my skin. Looking at Chloe’s face, I opened my mouth instinctively. “Do I have to die too?” Before I finished, my abdomen cramped. Then, an angry little voice exploded in my mind: [Mom! Don’t be stupid! I don’t want to die!] [That bad woman wants to use you as a cushion! I’m not even born yet, you can’t take me with you!] I froze. Baby? I’m… pregnant? Memories flashed back to two months ago. I left a breakup letter and disappeared because I felt unworthy of Ethan Sterling. That night of madness… actually… Subconsciously, my fingers touched the necklace around my neck. It was a gift Ethan forced on me, his tone domineering: “Wear it. Don’t take it off.” [Mom! Toughen up! Don’t listen to this bad auntie! She’s terminal stage love-brain!] The little voice in my head urged anxiously. Warmth flowed from my belly to my limbs. My life might be cheap. But my child’s isn’t. This is Ethan Sterling’s child. I won’t let it become a corpse for some scumbag like Chloe’s ex! My cowering eyes suddenly turned cold. Want me to bury my child with you? Dream on! “Ava! Say something! Do you not want to go with me?” Seeing me daze, Chloe pushed me impatiently. I fell back onto the sofa, wrapping the blanket tight, protecting my belly. When I looked up, my expression was fanatical. “Give! Of course we give!” “Chloe, you’re right. Jake is true love. How can true love care about life and death? What’s a little coal?” Chloe paused, then smiled. “That’s right! I knew you were loyal.” I stood up, grabbing the old blankets used to seal the windows, stuffing them into Chloe’s bag. “If we’re going to move him, we need to be thorough. Take these blankets too. Since we’re dying for love anyway, keeping them is a waste.” “And these down jackets. Isn’t Jake cold? Give them all to him! Show him your determination!” I stuffed every warm item in the house into the woven bag. Chloe was moved to tears. “Ava… I didn’t expect you to understand Jake better than me! You’re right, give it all!” “As long as Jake is warm, my heart is hot!” I sneered internally. I glanced at the clock. Less than three hours until the freeze hits. If I don’t trick her into leaving, I can’t keep my supplies either. Better to let her go and clear the survival space for me. 2 The card Ethan gave me had plenty of money. Before the apocalypse, my cravings led me to stock up on snacks in the basement storage. As long as I survive tonight… [Mom, good job! That’s it! Trick that bad woman to death!] The baby kicked me. “Ew, why does this room smell moldy?” Chloe was packing, waving her hand in front of her nose. “No, Jake likes clean, fresh scents. If I go to him smelling like mold, he’ll reject me.” Chloe scratched her hair, eyes landing on the window and the stove. “Put out the fire.” “And open the windows. Air it out. Also helps us adapt to the outside temperature in advance.” “That way we won’t look too pathetic when we deliver the coal.” My heart jumped. Crazy. It’s -40°F outside. “Chloe, that’s not a good idea…” “The extreme cold is coming. If we open the windows now, the heat will be gone in seconds.” “Ava! Being a bitch again?” Chloe glared, banging the fire tongs against the stove, making a harsh sound. “Didn’t you just say you support me? What’s wrong with airing out the room? You want me to go to Jake smelling bad?” “So he hates me more, and you can laugh at me, right?” “I knew you had bad intentions! Do you like Jake too? You’re just jealous!” Facing her accusation, I took a deep breath. [Mom, ignore her! If this idiot wants to die, let her! Quick! Put on those heat patches! Under the sofa cushion!] The little guy reminded urgently. I suddenly remembered sticking a few heat patches in the cracks while cleaning days ago. “Fine, I listen to you.” “You’re doing this for love, how dare I stop you. I’ll open the window.” I turned my back to her, reaching into the sofa crack, finding the patches. Pretending to grab a coat, I quickly ripped them open and stuck them on my lower back, abdomen, and chest. “That’s more like it.” Chloe snorted, pouring a bucket of water onto the stove. Hiss— White smoke rose, light extinguished. Then, she tore the tape and pushed open the window. Whoosh— The cold wind rushed in instantly. Water in the cup froze. Frost formed on eyelashes. “Hiss… so cold…” Chloe shivered, face turning blue. But she stubbornly refused to close the window, closing her eyes to inhale deeply. “Is this the cold Jake feels? It hurts… but my heart feels great!” “As long as I feel his cold, our souls are together.” She looked back, annoyed seeing me huddled in a quilt in the corner. “Ava, why are you hiding so far? Come here! Feel it with me!” 3 [Sick! This woman has ice cubes for brains!] Baby roasted. In my last life, I froze my legs trying to empathize with her. Not this time. “Chloe, I’m physically weak. I can’t compare to your deep love for Jake.” My voice was calm. “You feel it more. I’m not worthy of participating in such a great moment.” “Hmph, at least you know your place.” Chloe lifted her chin, continuing to stand in the wind. As the clock ticked closer to death, the sky darkened. The real freeze was coming to swallow everything. Chloe finally couldn’t take it. After ten minutes at the window, shaking violently, lips purple. “O… okay… smell is gone…” She shivered and closed the window. The room was no different from an ice cellar. She turned, scanning the room, locking onto the old thermos in my arms. “What’s that?” Chloe’s eyes lit up, lunging over. “Ava! You’re hiding hot water?” “Give it to me! Jake has a bad stomach. In this cold, he definitely wants a hot drink!” She reached to grab it. I turned sideways, hugging the thermos tight. “No!” “This is my water. If Jake wants to drink, let him boil it himself!” Chloe froze, staring at me in disbelief. “Ava, are you rebelling?” Chloe screeched, voice piercing. “You dare hide things from me? Dare refuse Jake?” “Do you know how much Jake is suffering? You’d watch him suffer for a sip of water?” “How can you be so selfish! So cold-blooded!” I sneered internally. “I’m selfish?” I looked up, eyes cold. “Chloe, you sold the house your parents left you to pay Jake’s gambling debts. You stole your sister’s tuition to buy Jake sneakers.” “Now you want to give him our last coal.” “You’re generous. You’re great.” “But don’t use my life to fulfill your greatness!” “I won’t give a drop of this water!” [Mom is mighty! Scold her to death! She deserves it!] Baby cheered. Chloe was shocked, then furious. “Fine… Ava, you finally show your true colors!” “Since you won’t give it, don’t blame me!” She lunged, hands grabbing my shoulders. Nails digging deep into my flesh. “Give it! Hand it over!” She roared. I desperately protected my belly, curling up. “Get off!” In the struggle, I bit her wrist. “Ah—!” Chloe screamed and let go, retreating while holding her wrist. Seeing the deep bite mark, her eyes turned venomous. “You dare bite me? You ungrateful wolf dare bite me?” “Ava, I saved your life! Your life is mine!” “You should listen to me like a dog! If I say die, you die!” I panted heavily, wiping blood from my mouth. “You saved my life, but I’ve paid it back.” 4 “These years, I worked like a horse for you, helped you support your man. Enough.” “Now, no one touches me or… my child.” “Good, good, good…” Chloe laughed in anger, face twisted. She glanced at the darkening sky outside, then at the packed supplies. “Since you’re heartless, don’t blame me for being unjust.” “Ava, since you won’t sacrifice for Jake, you don’t deserve to stay in this house.” “Every inch of air here exists for Jake!” “What are you doing?” I backed away warily. Chloe didn’t speak, picking up the fire axe by the door. The basement entrance was under the rug by the door. “Ava, didn’t you want to keep the coal?” Chloe approached, smiling. “Then I’ll deliver it myself. But this bag is too heavy for me alone.” “Since you won’t help, take off your clothes and give them to me.” “I’ll use them to wrap the coal so it doesn’t get damp.” “In your dreams.” I gritted my teeth. “Not up to you!” Chloe exploded, swinging the axe at the sofa. Bam! Wood chips flew. I dodged instinctively. Chloe rushed over, kicking me hard in the stomach! Pain surged. [Ah! Bad woman kicked me! Mom!] “Go to hell!” Chloe grabbed my hair, dragging me to the door. I struggled, but my resistance was weak. “Chloe! You’re crazy! The temperature is dropping! I’ll die!” “Best if you die!” Chloe grinned savagely, opening the door. Cold fog poured in instantly. “Since you won’t dedicate yourself to Jake, go outside and reflect on what loyalty means!” She ripped off my down jacket, leaving me in just a sweater. The cold stabbed into my pores instantly. “No! Give me my clothes!” I reached out. “Give you? Do you deserve it?” Chloe kicked me out the door. Bang! The security door locked. Wind and snow howled. I lay in the hallway, temperature critically low. My whole body felt only one word: Cold. Blood seemed to stop flowing, heart struggling to beat. Consciousness began to fade, fingers stiff. Am I dying? [Mom… don’t sleep…] Baby’s voice was weak. [Dad… Dad is coming…] [I sense it… strong heat source… it’s Dad…] Ethan Sterling? Vision blurred, eyelashes freezing, I struggled to look up at the window. Suddenly, two beams of light tore through the cold night and snow. Rumble— Engine roar shook the building. A modified armored vehicle covered in special alloy crushed the snow, roaring to a stop downstairs.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391002”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, my longtime crush finally confessed his love. He gathered his friends and family, chartered a luxury cruise ship, and threw a massive engagement party. Thus began our week-long romantic getaway. But when midnight struck… A romantic requiem echoed through the ship… Lock your door, Ms. Rabbit, cover your face tight. Your breathing will stop, you won’t toss turning tonight. Rest in peace, beautiful soul, in the pale moonlight. Slowly, the number of living people on board began to dwindle. 1 The day my DID diagnosis became official, my world lost all its color. Outside, rain poured in sheets. Inside, I stood clutching my medical file, tears streaming down my face. My parents had kicked me out, and my best friend was ignoring my calls. Just when I thought the whole world had abandoned me, Cole appeared. He took me back to the Vance family estate and confessed to me in front of all his friends and relatives: “Mia, I promise you, no matter what happens, I will never leave you. I love you, and I will love all of your personalities.” Cole’s parents were incredibly open-minded. Flipping through my medical file, they said: “A famous actress and a psychologist? Such positive personalities! Mia, this just goes to show what a kind-hearted child you are!” “Exactly! Our son is so lucky. He gets to marry two wonderful girls at once!” I frantically wiped the tears from my face and forced a smile. They didn’t know that besides the host personality, I had been diagnosed with a third. The Rainy Night Butcher. The moment I touch rainwater, that bloodthirsty version of me is unleashed. Just like right now. No one noticed that a page was missing from the medical file. 2 The next morning, numerous dead cats and dogs were found in the upscale gated community where the Vance family lived. At the breakfast table, the atmosphere was peaceful. No one suspected me. I breathed a sigh of relief. But a neighbor had somehow caught wind of my illness and splashed a huge bucket of red paint on the Vance family’s front door. Before leaving, they didn’t forget to drop a threat: “Keep your psycho locked up!” “I did it! It has nothing to do with Mia!” Perhaps fearing his parents would look at me differently, Cole actually took the blame. I was moved, but also anxious. Could someone like me really be accepted by his parents? To my surprise, his parents didn’t make a fuss. Instead, they came over to comfort me: “Of course we believe Mia. Don’t listen to what those people outside say. How about this: our family will take a cruise for a few days, and we’ll come back when the butler has cleaned this up.” “Okay.” I naturally had no reason to refuse. After packing a few clothes, I followed the Vance family onto the cruise ship. The Vance family controlled a leading corporation in New York, one of the wealthiest families around. And Cole was a top-tier elite lawyer. They weren’t short on cash; chartering a multi-million dollar cruise ship was nothing to them. Besides being shocked, I was also a bit confused. Was it necessary to spend so much money just for a few days’ getaway? It wasn’t until we boarded the ship, amidst a shower of rose petals, that Cole got down on one knee: “Mia, I love you, until death do us part.” I finally understood. He was proposing to me. This cruise ship was his gift to me. There were thirty people on board in total. Aside from the twenty service staff we brought along… The rest were Cole’s friends, family, the butler, and bodyguards. They came here to witness my love with Cole. The moment he slipped the ring onto my finger, I thought, all of us here… Were the happiest family in the world. We embarked on a one-week romantic getaway. Cole said he wanted to give me the most beautiful scenery of my life. But only a day later, he changed his mind. 3 “Cole, what’s wrong? It’s me, Mia, open the door!” “Stay away from me! You psycho!” Hearing this, my face turned deathly pale. My body lost all its strength, and I slumped outside the guest room door. What exactly happened? Could it be… Devastated, I walked out onto the deck, staring at the sparkling sea. I asked with hatred: “What did you do this time?” The waves rolled in one after another, as if my face was changing from one to another. The smile at the corner of her mouth was mechanical and eerie. Her eyes were full of mockery as she parted her red lips: “Guess.” Enough! I flew into a rage! I grabbed an empty wine bottle and hurled it fiercely. Water splashed everywhere. That face gradually disappeared. Replaced by my tears. I lowered my head and found a few drag marks of red on the floor. Stretching towards the edge of the ship. There was also a bloody handprint on the railing. Below was the bottomless ocean. Suddenly, I realized something and my body stiffened. Looking back, the deck was completely empty. But I clearly remembered everyone being here just a moment ago? I tore at my hair, trying desperately to remember, but I couldn’t recall the missing fragments. I only remembered… At dusk, everyone was dead drunk. Except for me. Cole took care of me, intercepting a lot of drinks for me. But he wasn’t so lucky. He lay on the deck and slept for a few hours. The sea breeze was very cold. I covered him with a light blanket and sat beside him, singing a lullaby. Then I fell asleep too. “What exactly are you trying to do to me?!” I hugged my head, kneeling on the deck, screaming in agony. A red light flashed across my eyes in the distance. Such a familiar blinking frequency. There seemed to be many similar light sources on this ship. They were like human eyes, monitoring me, torturing me. In the silent night, besides my voice… There was also a faint, trembling sound of breathing coming from behind. My blood suddenly began to boil. Even without turning around, I knew it was the person I loved the most—Cole. No matter what… He couldn’t leave me… I rubbed my eyes, gritted my teeth, tremblingly picked up a bottle of wine, and walked slowly towards him. Under the moonlight, my shadow stretched very long. 4 The next day, when I woke up, Cole was sleeping right beside me. He held me in his arms, sleeping soundly. I poked his dimple and broke free from his embrace. As soon as I got up, he grabbed my waist: “Why are you up so early, babe?” My face flushed, and I scolded playfully: “Keep your hands to yourself!” “Is my babe shy?” Cole kissed my back through my clothes, muttering: “Why didn’t you change into pajamas?” Then he pulled me back down and pressed himself against me. I narrowed my eyes, catching out of the corner of my eye that the red light had gone out. Just as I was about to push Cole away, someone knocked on the door: “Mr. Vance, Ms. Lin, it’s time for breakfast.” It was a crew member. I breathed a sigh of relief. Opening the door, a girl with pigtails forced a smile: “Mr. and Mrs. Vance have been waiting for you in the dining room for a long time.” I nodded: “We’ll be right there.” Then I ducked into the bathroom to wash up. Perhaps because the door wasn’t closed tight, I could hear the conversation outside while brushing my teeth. The girl’s overly sweet voice came through: “Mr. Vance, let me help you put this on. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy, how did I fall on you? Mr. Vance, are you alright?” My reflection in the water smiled a half-smile: “Someone’s trying to steal your man right in front of you, and you’re not angry?” I shook my head, silently replying to her: “I believe in Cole.” Sure enough, Cole didn’t disappoint me. He stood up and yelled: “Get out!” Then he squeezed in, looking aggrieved, and hugged me: “Babe, someone’s seducing your husband, aren’t you going to do something about it!” I pressed my forehead against his and rewarded him with a hug: “Good job, my Cole is the best.” “Hmph, you’re just humoring me!” Cole was right. I was indeed humoring him. Because I wasn’t in the mood to be lovey-dovey with him right now. My head was full of what happened last night. My anxiety lasted until we entered the dining room. When I saw everyone was there, I was finally comforted. So it was just a dream. Our happy family is still all here, that’s great. “Did Mia sleep well last night?” Cole’s mom poured me a glass of cranberry juice and asked with a smile. I looked at the bright red drink, and a blurry image flashed through my mind. “I slept very well, even had a dream.” “Oh? What did you dream about?” I chewed on a freshly cut sausage, narrowed my eyes, and tried hard to recall. A few seconds later, I had a sudden realization: “I remember now, I was slaughtering pigs.” After saying that, I put down my knife and fork and swept my gaze over the people in the dining room one by one. Silently counting in my heart… One, two, three… twenty-nine. We’re missing one person! I asked calmly: “Cole, did everyone come for breakfast?” The man was focused on peeling an egg for me: “They should all be here… Wait…” He paused, as if remembering something, and continued: “Where’s that chubby guy who makes the cakes? Don’t make pistachio mousse today. Mia is allergic, she can’t eat nuts.” “That brat disappeared first thing this morning! Don’t worry, Mr. Vance, there absolutely won’t be any more mistakes with today’s meals!” The head chef standing nearby answered respectfully. But as soon as he finished, the smile on Cole’s lips froze. Consequently, the hand peeling the egg also trembled slightly. I leaned close, patted his back, and whispered comfortingly in his ear: “Cole, I’m here.” He forced a smile that looked worse than crying: “Babe, let’s get married, okay?” The friends and family around us raised their glasses and cheered again, celebrating and shouting for us. I ruffled his hair: “Okay, I’ll always stay by Cole’s side.” Cole’s eyes were red. In my arms, he looked like an abandoned puppy. Across the table, Cole’s parents watched us with gratification. After rushing the wedding, they started rushing us for a baby: “Give us a good grandchild soon!” I shyly lowered my head, catching out of the corner of my eye a few servers secretly rolling their eyes in the corner. Sigh. Too bad, my boyfriend is too popular. What should I do?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391019”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

According to the transmigrator, I am the vicious male supporting character who pesters the male lead endlessly. The male lead is my childhood friend, the favored son of heaven. After failing to conquer the male lead, the transmigrator exposed my secret crush in front of him. Facing the male lead’s careful questioning, I did not deny it. After my confession failed, I retracted all special treatment. No more indulging his closeness, no more accepting excessive physical contact, no more watching him. Upon learning I made a new best friend, the male lead exploded with separation anxiety and severe codependency. His condition was so serious that even my new friend couldn’t help but say: “You’re driving him crazy.” I didn’t think I was that important, until he truly lost his mind in front of me. 1 The day I learned my life was just a supporting role, I accepted the fact calmly. After all, if you were attacked by a mutant as a child, lost your spiritual power, were abandoned by your family early on, and failed to awaken as a Sentinel or Guide upon reaching adulthood while everyone around you excelled, it’s hard to believe you are the protagonist of the world. The match in the arena continued. sitting in the stands, my attention couldn’t help but be drawn to the golden bullet comments scrolling endlessly above the head of a strange Guide in front of me. From their fragments, I pieced together a truth. This world is a power fantasy novel. The protagonist is my childhood friend, Caleb. He is a very compelling “villainous protagonist,” starting with max-level stats: 3S-level spiritual power, direct imperial lineage, top-tier looks and wealth, and the support of heirs from various powerful families. Unlike other male leads who grow through setbacks or hide their strength, Caleb never hides his power. He kills without a word, slashing his way from beginning to end. However, at the end of the story, after killing the strongest mutant, when everyone thought he would ascend the throne surrounded by the masses, he suddenly turned dark and destroyed the world. To save the world, the System bound the strange Guide in front of me, who had transmigrated into the book, tasking him with conquering Caleb and preventing his corruption. Perhaps I stared at him for too long. The strange Guide turned his head. He froze for a moment, then looked at me with disgust and contempt. The comments above his head instantly flashed a wave of malicious remarks about me. The most repeated words were [Cannon Fodder], [Shameless], [Bitch], [Still Alive]… In the mouths of these comments, I am the vicious cannon fodder who knows Caleb doesn’t like me but relies on our childhood friendship to pester him. Caleb, out of consideration for old times, is unwilling to speak harshly to me, but actually hates me very much. The bell signaling the end of the match rang. I was still dazed by the words in the comments. People around me stood up excitedly, cheering and surging towards the arena in the center. I was a moment late getting up to follow the crowd. I had just taken a few steps towards the arena when a figure quickly pushed through the crowd, rushed from the ring, and hugged me. A scorching aura wrapped me from head to toe. The hard chest armor pressed painfully against my cheek. I could almost hear the blood boiling in his veins. Caleb lifted me up by the waist, lowered his head to rub intentionally against my neck, then loosened his grip, revealing a flamboyant and slightly silly smile: “I won!” This was an overly intimate gesture, but the people around were used to it. “Mmh.” I patted his head, praising him skillfully: “Very impressive.” “Caleb!” A crisp voice suddenly interjected. I patted Caleb’s arm. After he reluctantly let go, I turned to look in the direction of the voice. The strange Guide from before squeezed out of the crowd, looked up at Caleb, blinked, and asked crisply: “Who is he?” Caleb put his arm around my shoulder, as if just remembering, and introduced to me: “This is the new S-class Guide joining our squad, Lucas.” Then he turned to Lucas and said: “This is my best, best friend, Julian.” He emphasized the word “best” and said it twice, his tone certain and proud. I extended my hand to Lucas: “Hello.” “Hello, hello.” Lucas shook my hand, asking curiously, “Are you a Sentinel or a Guide?” I smiled and replied calmly: “I am an ordinary person.” “Ah.” Lucas seemed shocked, saying innocently yet flusteredly, “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t expect Caleb’s friend to be a… person without spiritual power.” He was apologizing, but his expression when looking at me seemed to say “a useless person without spiritual power.” He was sure only I could see his expression from this angle, but a terrifying spiritual pressure descended on the entire venue the second his words came out. A spiritual entity in the form of a Qiongqi (a mythical winged tiger), shrunk to the size of a palm, jumped onto my shoulder, panic-stricken, trying to cover my ears. Caleb indeed hadn’t seen his expression, but mentioning my spiritual power was Caleb’s taboo. I patted the back of Caleb’s hand. Caleb looked at me and withdrew the spiritual pressure that was on the verge of losing control. Only then did Lucas retreat a step, face pale. He looked up at me in fear, tears welling in his eyes: “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? I, I didn’t mean to… will you forgive me?” The comments above his head started spamming again: [Ahhh, how can Caleb treat our Lu-bao like this!] [Life sentence without wife! I sentence him to life without a wife!] [So angry. Wait until the conquest succeeds, see how he begs for forgiveness in the crematorium!] [Is the vicious male supporting character cheap or what? Is it worth holding onto this little thing? Knowing an ordinary person like him isn’t worthy, why doesn’t he leave? Does he have to insert himself between our couple?] I lowered my eyes. The “it’s okay” I wanted to say was stuck in my throat. Caleb noticed the subtle change in my emotions immediately. The shrunken Qiongqi on my shoulder jumped anxiously. He also reached out to grab my hand. I avoided his movement, took the Qiongqi from my shoulder into my palm, squeezed it gently, then turned to Lucas and smiled: “It’s okay, you didn’t say anything wrong.” 2 [Big news! Will the new S-class Guide stay in Caleb’s squad?] [What happened? Yesterday we were discussing if the new Guide could conquer Caleb, how come today it’s a question if he can even stay?] [He mentioned Julian’s spiritual power.] [And he mentioned it in front of Julian and Caleb.] [That’s it then.] [No way—I just bought stocks in the new Guide. Heard his compatibility with Caleb is 90%.] [Does no one think Julian is excessive? The new Guide didn’t know he lacked spiritual power. What’s wrong with asking? And he apologized. Is it necessary to be so dramatic?] [??? You dare say it, I dare not listen.] [Those who mocked Julian to his face for losing spiritual power have been mining coal in District 10 for two years.] [Before Caleb reaches the battlefield, Julian’s research fans will blow up your account.] [Can participants in account bombing get priority to buy Julian’s new weapons? If so, count me in.] [+1, our squad has been queuing for three months.] [Should we go kneel in front of Julian and beg him to research how to expand production?] [Can I kneel too?] [Yes.] [If not, take all our savings.] [Can I give too?] [Yes.] Lucas angrily exited the Star Net forum. Walking in the mall with two other Sentinels from Caleb’s squad, he sighed after closing his terminal, looking very worried: “Sigh, is Julian unwilling to forgive me?” “No, don’t overthink it. Julian is a very nice person.” The Sentinel didn’t hear the undertone of Lucas silently applying eye drops (sowing discord) and comforted him, “Yesterday, Caleb wanted to submit your application to leave the team, and it was Julian who stopped him.” Lucas choked. He took a deep breath and continued: “Isn’t there a joint exercise in three days? I want to buy him a gift to apologize. Can you tell me what he likes or hates?” “Julian? He doesn’t seem to have any special preferences.” Another Sentinel scratched his head in confusion, “If you ask us, you might as well ask Caleb. He understands Julian better.” The first Sentinel nodded. Seeing Lucas reaching for a leaf-shaped necklace, he seemed to remember something and said: “But you’d better not give him a necklace.” Seeing Lucas look over in confusion, he explained: “Julian has a necklace he really likes. Since we’ve known him, we’ve never seen him change it. If you give a necklace, he probably won’t wear it.” Lucas’s hand paused, shifting from the necklace to a brooch, but his eyes flickered imperceptibly. The joint exercise took place in the Northern Pollution Zone. When Lucas found me, I was sitting on a large gray rock not far from the temporary camp, verifying the optimization model of a weapon based on the data just recorded. Caleb sat beside me, playing with my left hand out of boredom. He stepped on the accumulated snow. Before he got close, Caleb raised his eyes alertly, his gaze sharp and cold. Lucas froze instantly, as if doused with ice water from head to toe. Comments scrolled before his eyes. [Damn it, when will the male lead know the true face of the vicious male supporting character?] [Lu-bao don’t be afraid. Today you are ignored, tomorrow you are out of his league.] [So angry. Vicious male supporting character relies on the male lead not knowing his feelings to be so close. When the male lead remembers later, he’ll be disgusted.] [Ahhh torture me to death. Clearly Lu-bao is here to save the world and him, the male lead knows nothing and glares at our Lu-bao.] [Just wait. The male lead is guaranteed to regret it later.] I put down the pen, withdrew my hand held by Caleb, looked up at Lucas standing in the snow daring not to speak for a while, and smiled gently: “Do you have something to say to me?” Lucas walked a bit closer, took out a beautifully wrapped gift box, looked up pitifully: “I’m here to apologize for last time. Can you accept my apology?” I stood up. Caleb walked in front of me with me. Lucas was saying sorry to me, but his eyes were constantly on Caleb. I sighed, signaled Caleb to leave first with my eyes. After Caleb walked away reluctantly, I looked at him again, tone flat: “I’m not angry.” “Really? Then can you accept my gift?” Lucas opened the gift box happily, revealing a blue gem brooch inside. Before I could react, he picked up the brooch and pinned it on my collar. I was stunned for a moment by his sudden offensive action. In that instant, Lucas’s finger hooked the cord of the necklace around my neck. Don’t know what he did, but the necklace with the pendant broke in the middle and fell to the ground with a bang. “Ah.” Lucas cried out in panic, hurriedly reaching to pick it up. The pendant that looked like jade didn’t break. Lucas gritted his teeth, pretended to lose his balance, and threw the necklace in his hand out again. I looked at him coldly. After he accidentally threw the necklace out for the third time, I called his name softly: “Lucas.” The next moment, a cold gun muzzle was aimed at his head. I smiled, still gentle: “You’d better not make me angry.” Lucas’s body stiffened after seeing what I was holding. Physiological fear made his face pale instantly. He looked at me almost in terror. I said: “Pick it up. The pendant casing is made of special alloy; it won’t break.” Lucas picked up the necklace tremblingly and held it in front of me. I took the necklace and sighed again: “I sent the books, celebrities, and battles Caleb likes to your terminal. If you want to pursue Caleb, you can take a look at these.” “If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can ask me. But you’d better have your own ideas.” Lucas was completely stunned. “Why?” He looked at me stiffly, almost losing his voice. “No need to treat me as an enemy.” The coldness in my brows dissipated, revealing my usual gentleness, “Of course I hope he can be happy.” [???] [???????] [????????????] The comments above Lucas’s head were almost screened by question marks. [He’s actually kinda nice?] [Done for, I’m about to fall in love with him.] [Thinking carefully, the vicious male supporting character doesn’t seem to have done anything bad, always quite gentle.] 3 Meanwhile on the Star Net forum, a post was rapidly building high. [Shocking, I’m at the joint exercise site, guess what I just saw] [Image] [Image] [Image] [WTF, why is Julian pointing a gun at Lucas? What did Lucas do to him?] [Haven’t seen Julian’s cold face for a long time, so nostalgic.] [I’ll call him Master first out of respect.] [So what is the reason? Where is the OP? Don’t tease and run.] [Seems like Lucas broke Julian’s necklace.] [Video] [Video] [Is it that necklace Julian never takes off? Then he’s done for.] [Speaking of which, why does Julian care so much about this necklace? Is it a relic or something?] [Or the first gift Caleb gave him?] [No, I remember Caleb asked who gave him this necklace. Julian didn’t tell him after being asked for a long time.] [Ahhh I really want to know. Scratching my heart and liver anxiously.] [Star Net’s tenth unsolved mystery: Why does Julian treasure his necklace so much?] … I reconnected the necklace and put it back on, walking back to the camp with Lucas. Around the bonfire, small tents were set up in the snow. I led Lucas to the tent shared by me and Caleb, and started packing my things. Caleb, who just returned from a surprise inspection, saw the scene of me and Lucas moving things out. He froze for a moment, unable to react. I had already skillfully blocked his mouth before he could speak. “I need to think quietly about the research plan tonight. Lucas happens to be alone. I discussed with him to swap tents tonight.” Caleb stared at me with a long face for a while, then muffled an “Oh.” I wasn’t completely lying to him about studying the plan tonight. Under the dim light, the tip of my pen crossed one formula after another, but the terminal on my wrist suddenly vibrated. I stopped writing and clicked open the message from Lucas. [What was the key to victory in the Battle of Xuanyan?] I entered the answer and forwarded a summary of the Battle of Xuanyan. Not long after, Lucas’s message popped up again: [Does Caleb like General Mo? Should I praise him or scold him?] I typed silently. [He asked me which commander in history I think is the strongest. What should I say?] I was speechless for a while, replying: [You can have your own ideas.] Quietly created a few more opportunities for them to be alone. Two months later, Lucas felt the time was ripe. [Really confess now?] The comments raised a question. “Of course.” Lucas said confidently, “I confess to him first. In the future, when he thinks of me, he will think of the fact that I like him, and slowly he will fall.” “Besides, last time on the mission, Caleb came to save me immediately. Maybe he already likes me unconsciously.” [I’m still a bit worried. Maybe tell Julian first?] Impatience appeared between Lucas’s brows. He pursed his lips and said: “Caleb won’t like Julian anyway. What use is his opinion. I am the chosen one. Whose side are you on anyway!” The comments shut up. So in the evening, Lucas stopped Caleb coming out of the training room. “I like you.” Under the setting sun, the handsome boy looked up to confess. It should have been a dreamy and beautiful scene, but it was shattered by the ruthless words of the person opposite. “I will submit your transfer application tomorrow.” “Why?” Lucas panicked instantly, “No, you can’t do this. Our compatibility is 90%. I am the most suitable person to be by your side. You can’t do this, the higher-ups won’t agree…” “Of course I can. Do you want to test my power?” Caleb said expressionlessly, “Leave. I won’t keep people with impure thoughts around me.” Lucas broke down. He hissed: “If you can’t accept me continuing to stay by your side, what about Julian?! He likes you too. Can you tolerate him?” Full screen of question marks scrolled through the comments: [????] [??????????] [Can’t do it. This time I really can’t stand with you. Julian helped you so much, and in the end you backstab him like this.] [Some people being disliked has a reason.] [Ahhh previously I whitewashed those behaviors with saving the world or destined soulmates. This time I really can’t whitewash.] [Don’t! If Caleb alienates Julian because of this, I’ll feel it’s my fault.] [Done for, done for. Julian is coming this way.] “What did you say?” Caleb’s expression finally changed. He frowned at Lucas. Lucas simply smashed the pot (went for broke): “I said Julian likes you. Not the friend kind of like. Are you going to drive him away too?” Don’t know which word poked Caleb’s lung tube (hit a nerve), Caleb’s anger was instantly ignited: “What nonsense are you talking about!” The tall Qiongqi spiritual entity rushed out, pouncing on Lucas without any buffer. Sharp claws and teeth were about to attack his neck. Lucas fell to the ground in embarrassment. Fear bubbled up uncontrollably. Golden comments flew past his eyes. He grabbed the most frequent word on them: “Julian!” A familiar profile appeared in his peripheral vision. Lucas shouted in panic: “Julian, save me!” 4 “Are you still angry?” Under the dim evening light, Caleb hung his head, following behind me ready to be scolded. His spiritual entity’s tail and ears drooped, trailing listlessly beside him. My pace was neither fast nor slow, tone without fluctuation: “Why should I be angry?” “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Caleb tugged at the corner of my shirt, saying indignantly and somewhat unconvinced, “He talked nonsense first.” I stopped, finally turning my head to look at him: “What did he say?” Caleb’s expression stiffened. He hemmed and hawed, pulling east and west for a long time, telling the whole story of Lucas coming to confess to him, before carefully saying lightly in a joking tone: “So funny, he actually said you like me. I wouldn’t…” “It’s true,” I said. Caleb froze. He stared at me blankly. I nodded and affirmed again: “It’s true.” “W-What do you mean?” Caleb stammered, voice getting smaller. I looked at him, saying calmly: “It means exactly what you think. I like you.” “Huh? You… uh, I…” Caleb’s eyes went straight, as if experiencing a worldview reconstruction. The whole person seemed silly. He stumbled, “I, I never thought… we… but…” “I know.” I pulled back the sleeve corner he was holding, saying softly, “I accept your rejection.” “Wait!” Caleb subconsciously grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go yet.” All past persistence was thrown to the back of his mind. Inexplicable panic made him eager to get an answer from me, “We are still friends, right! Right?!” “…” I looked at him quietly for a while, said: “Mmh.” Caleb’s intuition was not wrong. If he didn’t ask me to stay, I would completely withdraw from his life. Of course, didn’t mean that because he asked me to stay, I wouldn’t leave. When Caleb rushed down from the arena victorious to hug me again, I didn’t refuse. But after a few seconds, when this hug was about to exceed the meaning of a friend’s congratulation, I pushed him away. Caleb stared blankly at his empty arms, only coming back to his senses when a teammate patted his arm. Then he looked up and saw me talking and laughing with another teammate of his as if nothing had happened. Caleb couldn’t say what was wrong, but an overflowing sourness blocked his chest dully. Hands reaching out to pull people were cleverly avoided, heads leaning over were pushed away, smiling eyes no longer stayed on him. Caleb lowered his eyes, expression heavy. Half a month later, Star Net Forum: [What’s wrong with Caleb lately? All the Sentinels in the training ground aren’t enough for him to beat up.] [Just like this after not sniffing Julian for two days.] [Is he watching Julian too closely recently? Only two days. Wasn’t like this before.] [Clingy index went up? Used to take a week of not seeing him to start getting anxious.] [Don’t know. They are weird lately. Quarreled?] [Last time participating in a 3-day 2-night mission, Julian didn’t sleep with Caleb at night.] [I was there too. Wasn’t that because another researcher was there, and Julian wanted to discuss ideas with him?] [Anyway Caleb’s face stunk to death the whole time after.] [Feel something is wrong but can’t say what.] [I have even more explosive news, do you want to hear?] [What what?] [Ears perked.] [Isn’t Julian going to the Southern Pollution Zone frontline battlefield in two days? This time the escort squad he designated is not Caleb’s team, but Arthur’s.] [!!!!!!!!!] [No way—how are my two wives together?]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391035”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Midnight. My phone was vibrating off the hook. Brenda from 1107 had tagged me eighteen times in the residents’ group chat. “To the young lady in 1207, the holidays are coming up. Try to find some decency!” “The way you beat that child every day… the noise is going to give me a heart attack!” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and typed back. “I live alone. You must be mistaken.” Suddenly, Doris, the owner of 1307, jumped in. “Honey, when you’re wrong, just admit it. Being stubborn won’t get you anywhere.” “I’m a stickler for details. When I heard the child screaming, I went door to door, listening. It was definitely coming from your apartment.” 1. Brenda was still tagging me. “Stop hitting him! You’re going to kill him!” “The poor thing has cried his voice hoarse. It breaks my heart to listen to it!” “What did he do, commit a mortal sin? Why are you beating him to death?” It was a warm early summer night, but a sudden chill ran down my spine. After buying the apartment, I’d installed blackout curtains to help me sleep. At eleven, the world had been silent. Now, the pitch-black room felt like a place where a monster could materialize and press its face against mine at any moment. The hair on my arms stood on end. I scrambled out of bed, flicking on every light in every room. Only after checking every corner that could possibly hide a person did the fear begin to recede. I looked back at the group chat. 99+ new messages. The neighbors were all chiming in. “LOL, 1207 went silent after getting called out.” “Hasn’t 1207 only been here a little while? I remember her, a real pretty girl. Didn’t expect her to be a mom already, and with such a bad temper.” “You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your neighbors. You make enemies now, but you’ll come crawling for help one day, and no one will be there for you.” One resident, hiding behind the anonymity of not listing their apartment number, made a crude joke. “What kind of screaming are we talking about? A real kid crying, or one of those adult women who puts on a baby voice?” “Haha, you read my mind. Maybe our pretty neighbor is just playing a certain kind of ‘game.’” “The old ladies just can’t keep up with the times. They don’t know about those games, so they misunderstood, hehe.” … I gritted my teeth and typed a reply. “Brenda, I live alone. I was almost asleep when you started tagging me.” “If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to come up and see for yourself.” I then addressed the upstairs neighbor. “Doris, you said you were listening at doors. Are you sure you didn’t get the apartment number wrong?” After a brief silence, a reply came from Doris’s account. “This is Doris’s husband. She’s gone to bed. I’ll have her message you tomorrow.” Just then, Brenda tagged me again. “Honey, you said you were almost asleep, but I can see your lights are all on. Do you sleep with the lights on?” That set the neighbors off again. “It’s true, I just stuck my head out the window. Even the living room light is on.” “Wow, our neighbor is really something. Sleeping with all the lights on. Must be nice to be rich!” “I just went and listened at 1207’s door. It’s quiet for now, but there’s a broken action figure on her doormat. One of the arms is snapped off.” “Yikes. You think the kid broke his toy by accident, and she beat him half to death for it?” “What a terrifying mother. Maybe she’s bipolar?” “Whoa, that’s creepy when you think about it. She even invited Brenda to her apartment. What if she was planning to lock the door and come at her with a knife? These days, the crazies get away with murder.” I was completely speechless. I wanted to just leave the group and be done with it. But for the sake of neighborly harmony, I had to explain, point by point. “I only turned the lights on after I saw the messages in the group.” “As for the toy, some kid probably broke it and just left it at my door.” I started a video recording on my phone, doing a continuous shot of every room, and sent it to the group. “Just me. No child.” Still, some were unconvinced. “What does that prove? The kid is probably hiding in a closet or under the bed.” “The people upstairs and downstairs both say it’s you, and you still won’t admit it?” “Am I the only one who thinks something is off here? Maybe 1207 has some bad juju attached to her?” “You mean, like a ghost?” “OMG! Peace, prosperity, and all that jazz.” “Alright, alright, it’s late. This is getting out of hand!” Brenda stepped in to play peacemaker. “Honey, children need patience. You can’t solve everything by hitting them.” “It’s late, so I won’t come over. Just stop and go to sleep.” Staring at the now-quiet group chat, I was at a loss for words. It felt like I’d been caught in a storm that had nothing to do with me. It was nearly one in the morning, and I had a business meeting the next day. I had to get some sleep. I never expected that the next evening at nine, Brenda would start tagging me again, this time spamming the chat with a dozen 60-second voice messages. 2. “Honey, it was wrong of me to call you out in the group yesterday instead of messaging you privately. It’s all my fault, and I apologize.” Her words were slurred, and she sounded like she was crying. “I’m an old woman. If I drop dead, I deserve it. But my little grandson is only five years old! When he can’t sleep, my life is a living hell!” “Please, I’m begging you, have a heart! Stop beating your child and smashing things every night!” Then, Brenda’s son, Rick, started spewing filth in the chat. “1207, you bitch! You dare hit my mother?” He posted a photo of Brenda. There was a clear handprint on her face, swollen to half an inch high. “Everyone look at this! The psycho in 1207 doesn’t just abuse her own kid, she hit my mom too!” “My mom was just walking my son downstairs, and this woman came out of nowhere and slapped her!” “She even threatened my son! Said if he ever dared to squeak in the group chat again, she’d make sure our family never gets another full night’s sleep!” The group chat erupted in righteous fury. “Is this woman even human? She disturbs her neighbors, and instead of apologizing, she slaps them?” “Who does she think she is, acting so high and mighty?” “Threatening a child is unforgivable! Get out here and apologize! @12-7 Ms. Grace.” BANG, BANG, BANG. Someone was pounding on my door with incredible force. It was Rick, Brenda’s son. His face was a mask of rage, and he was holding a meat cleaver. “Get out here and apologize, you bitch!” The cleaver struck my door, making a sharp metallic clang. My heart hammered against my ribs. I scrambled to call property management and the police. I dragged the door jammer into place before I dared to speak. “Please, calm down and listen to me. I didn’t hit your mother. I don’t even know what she looks like. There must be a misunderstanding.” Silence for two seconds, then the pounding started again, even more violent than before. “You fucking bitch, you hit my mom and you won’t even admit it! Get the hell out here!” Seeing that Rick was beyond reason, I had no choice but to find my lease agreement and post a picture of it in the chat, showing I was the sole occupant. “I am single, I have no children, and I have never laid a hand on any neighbor. This is all a huge misunderstanding!” “If I really had a child, wouldn’t one of you in this building have seen them? Has anyone, any single one of you, ever seen me with a child?” The residents, who had been waiting for me to respond, flooded the chat with dozens of messages. “Who knows if that document is real or photoshopped.” “Besides, there are plenty of young women these days who mess around and have a baby they keep secret. If they have it at home and don’t register it, who’s to know?” “I’ve never seen her with a kid, that’s true. But I know one thing: criminals always hide their crimes. You probably just make sure to sneak the kid in and out when none of us are around.” Then, Doris from upstairs posted a video. “Have a look, everyone. I recorded this at 1207’s door. This old lady doesn’t lie!” The video was shaky and a little blurry, as if filmed on a handheld phone. The camera started at the elevator and moved down the hall to a door. As it got closer, a faint crying sound became clearer. When the phone was pressed against the door, the sound exploded, filling the speakers with the piercing screams of a small child. The world spun around me. How was that possible? It was undeniably my apartment. The number was clear, as was the fingerprint lock and the anime character sticker I’d put on it myself. The group chat went into a frenzy. “Haha, you asked for proof, you got proof.” “OMG OMG OMG the drama!” “Everyone be quiet, I want to hear 1207’s excuse for this one.” “@12-7 Ms. Grace, is that your apartment?” I braced myself and typed. “Yes, that’s my apartment.” Just as I was about to explain further, a telemarketer called. I rejected the call, only to see that my unfinished message had sent. I quickly deleted it, but the vultures watching the chat had already seen it. Rick clearly saw it too. He became even more agitated. “What do you have to say for yourself now?” “I might not have much, Rick, but I’ve got brute strength! I swear I’m going to drag you out of there and beat you to death today!” He started ramming his shoulder into the door. The small chandelier above me swayed with the vibrations. “Get out here, you bitch!” Forgetting about the group chat, I checked the door jammer with trembling hands, terrified he would actually break the door down. Just as I was about to call property management again, I heard voices outside. “Sir, please calm down! Don’t do something you’ll regret.” “Give me the cleaver first. We promise we will handle this properly!” Property management was here! I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My back was soaked in cold sweat. Once I was sure they had the cleaver from Rick, I opened the door. Three property managers were holding Rick back, though he was still cursing at me. I was about to explain when two police officers stepped out of the elevator, their sharp eyes fixed on me. “Are you Ms. Grace, the resident of 1207?” “We received a report that you are a suspect in a child trafficking and abuse case. Please come with us to cooperate with the investigation.” 3. At the police station, I explained everything from the beginning. “I don’t have a child, and I certainly did not assault Brenda.” “As for trafficking and abuse, that’s just ridiculous. You just searched my apartment. Did you find a child, or any evidence that a child has ever been there?” “There has to be something wrong with Doris’s video.” The officer’s face was stern. “Our technical team analyzed the video. There are no signs of tampering.” My mind went blank for a second before I forced myself to stay calm. “I can’t explain the video right now, but I know I didn’t hit Brenda. The security footage will prove it.” The lead investigator walked in. “The building is old. The surveillance systems in the common areas and hallways are severely damaged. We can’t retrieve any footage.” “However, the time you entered the building is consistent with the time Brenda was assaulted.” The officers looked at me with a mixture of suspicion and scrutiny. “Ms. Grace, we don’t wrongfully accuse innocent people, but we don’t let criminals go, either.” In the end, due to a lack of concrete evidence, I was released. The police instructed me not to leave the city so they could continue their investigation. It was three in the morning when I walked out of the station. I wiped my exhausted face and found the nearest hotel to crash in. When I woke up, my phone was flooded with notifications. The residents’ group chat was celebrating the news of my arrest. “Justice is served!” “I heard she was taken in on suspicion of trafficking. Human traffickers deserve to die!” “They should investigate her for sex work while they’re at it. I heard 1207 paid for her apartment in cash. A woman that young… how could she afford over two million dollars unless she’s a mistress to someone?” Brenda and Doris were also in the chat. “Slept like a baby last night, a rare treat. My little grandson was so happy.” “Brenda, dear, wicked people always get what’s coming to them. My heart aches for what you’ve been through.” When I returned to my building, the elevator doors opened to the sight of my front door splattered with red paint. Piles of stinking garbage lay on the floor, swarming with flies. My next-door neighbor peeked his head out, a look of disappointment on his face. “Oh, you’re out already? Well, hurry up and clean this mess. The whole hallway stinks.” Another neighbor on my floor slammed their door with a resounding crash. “So annoying. Living on the same floor as someone like her is the worst luck.” From start to finish, not a single person was willing to hear my side of the story. I dug my nails into my palm and ordered a cleaning service online. Jenna, one of the property managers, sent me a message. “Grace, people are saying your apartment is haunted by a vengeful spirit. And a lot of residents have complained to me about you, calling you a plague on the community and wishing you were dead.” “I’m worried someone might do something extreme. Have you considered selling or renting out the apartment?” Reading that, a fire ignited within me. I had just bought this place. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Why should I be the one to leave? Whether it was a vengeful spirit or a person playing games, I was going to find out. I collected myself and replied to Jenna. “To prove my innocence, I want you to stay at my apartment for the next three nights. Let’s see if they still hear a child crying then.” “In return, I’ll prepay my HOA fees for the next two years.” “On one condition: you don’t tell a soul about this.” Jenna replied quickly. “You have a deal.” That night, Jenna slipped into my apartment unnoticed. “Don’t worry, Grace. No one saw me.” For three consecutive nights, the building was as peaceful as a still lake. Brenda even praised me in the group chat. “The young lady has finally seen the error of her ways. It’s been so quiet lately.” “As for the slap, I’ll let it go. Young people can be impulsive. I understand.” When Jenna left in the mornings, she would look at me cautiously. “Grace, do you think… it could actually be haunted? Like, it only acts up when you’re alone.” “Maybe you should really think about moving.” I said nothing, but the fire inside me burned hotter. The next day, everything changed. Brenda was carried to my front door on a stretcher.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391052”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Ian fastened my seatbelt for me, a gesture so familiar, so natural, it felt like muscle memory. He’d just wrapped up a major merger negotiation, a weariness still etched around his eyes, yet he’d remembered to pick me up from work, even though I was working late. “Evie,” he said, his voice soft, handing me a warm paper bag. “Your favorite roasted chestnuts. Just bought them.” Warmth spread from my fingertips to my heart. I peeled one open, thinking this was just another ordinary moment of happiness. Then, he spoke, his tone unnervingly calm. “Oh, right. That day last week, your birthday. I told you I had a last-minute business dinner, but I actually took the new intern to the hospital.” I turned to look at him. A hint of weariness, almost helplessness, crossed his face. “She… she accidentally got pregnant with my child. She’s so young, she was terrified. I figured you, being the most understanding, would get it, right? When a man’s out and about, these things happen.” … I started to tremble. He reached over, casually adjusting the car’s AC up a degree. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” He paused at a red light, turning to look at me. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “Evie,” his voice remained oddly flat. “Don’t be like this. The girl is young, just out of college. She’s all alone here, and she was crying her eyes out that day. What was I supposed to do, just ignore her?” The light turned green. He pressed the accelerator. “Just think of it as… me doing a good deed.” I whipped my head around to stare at him. A good deed. “Is that the point? The point isn’t that you cheated and you’re only telling me now?” “Why would I tell you?” He shot me a strange look. “To upset you? What could you change even if you knew? It’s already happened.” He said it with such an air of righteous indignation, as if I were the one being unreasonable. He parked the car, but didn’t immediately unbuckle his seatbelt. Instead, he turned to face me. “Evie,” he said, his gaze steady. “When a man’s out and about, these things happen. I’m practically the last one among my friends to have an affair. I know what I’m doing. Flings are just flings; I always come home. Don’t worry, you’re different from the other women.” He reached out, as if to ruffle my hair, just like he used to. I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air, and his face visibly darkened. He withdrew his hand, letting out a small, mirthless laugh. “Alright, take your time. Anyway, I’ve broken it off completely with that girl. If you can’t handle this, then in the future, I’ll try my best to keep you from knowing.” He finished, grabbed the bag of chestnuts, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out of the car. The chestnut in my hand had been crushed, sticking to my palm in a messy pulp. I suddenly remembered that winter in my junior year. I had a terrible cold and a fever. My roommate called him, and he was in class. Half an hour later, he appeared downstairs at my dorm, covered in snow. I bundled up in my down jacket and went down. His hair and shoulders were white with snow, his nose bright red from the cold. “Roasted chestnuts,” he sniffled, smiling. “My Evie eats something sweet, and her sickness will go away faster.” His hands were like ice blocks, but he peeled the chestnuts for me first. I ate and cried simultaneously. He asked why I was crying, promising that one day, when we were rich, he’d buy them for me every single day. Later, we did get rich. He no longer had to brave a snowstorm to cross half the city. “Still not coming up? The chestnuts will get cold and won’t taste good.” My phone buzzed. He had showered and was now in his pajamas, watching financial news on the sofa. The bag of chestnuts sat on the coffee table, open, completely cold. “Wash your hands and come eat.” He didn’t look up. His suit jacket was carelessly tossed over the console in the entryway. A tube of lipstick peeked out of the pocket. Last month, when he’d gone to a nearby town for a project, he’d brought me back specialty pastries. Ian’s voice drifted from the living room. “Evie, what are you doing?” I looked at him. When had he become so rotten? “Alright,” he said, patting my shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. I’ve handled everything cleanly. Go wash your hands; the chestnuts really are cold now.” He turned and walked back to the living room, resuming his news program. A week ago, while he was at the hospital with another woman, I was at home, waiting for him to return so we could eat the birthday cake I’d made. The cake eventually went stale. He’d told me he was in a bad mood because the project hadn’t gone through, and I’d comforted him, saying it was alright. 2 I crouched in the entryway, trying to throw up, but nothing came. Just dry retching, one after another. Ian finally turned off the TV. He walked over and stood in front of me, wearing the matching slippers I’d bought us last year. “Are you being dramatic?” he asked. I looked up, my vision blurred, unable to make out his face. “When did it start?” I asked. “What?” “You and her,” I choked out, my voice raw and desperate, like any woman discovering her partner’s infidelity. “When did you two get together?” He frowned slightly. “Does it matter?” “Yes, it matters.” I used the cabinet to pull myself up, my legs weak. “Tell me, Ian. Just tell me when.” He was silent for a few seconds, then said, “This spring, I guess. The company hired interns, and she was assigned to my department.” Over half a year. “How many?” I asked again. His face darkened. “Evie, what are you trying to say?” “I’m asking you how many others there have been!” I suddenly screamed, my voice echoing in the empty living room. “How many more? Who else? Tell me everything, right now!” He looked at me as if I were insane, then he let out a laugh, full of weary resignation. “Do you have to be like this? I told you, it’s all been handled. She’s been sent away, I gave her money. What more do you want? Do you expect me to spend my entire life only with you?” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Don’t all men do this?” he continued, his tone suggesting that infidelity was common knowledge everyone should accept. “Business dinners, playing along, it’s all normal. You’re going to be my wife; can’t you be more understanding? Look at Mrs. Kensington, her husband has three mistresses, and she still goes shopping and plays cards like nothing’s wrong.” My ears buzzed. Mrs. Kensington, always smiling at parties, always praising how wonderful her husband was to her. “I’m not like her. We shouldn’t be like that,” I said. “How are we different?” Ian took a step closer, looking down at me. “Evie, I’ve been with you for seven years. Seven years. Have I ever neglected you? The house is in your name, you drive the car, you can spend money however you want. I’ve just had a few affairs; why are you making such a big deal out of it?” He reached out to touch my face. I recoiled, and his hand stopped mid-air. “Fine,” he retracted his hand, nodding. “You think about it.” He turned and went into the bedroom. I stood in the living room, staring at that closed door, suddenly remembering so many years ago. We had just graduated, broke, renting a tiny, rundown studio apartment. The day we moved in, he mysteriously pulled a potted plant from behind his back. “A lemon tree,” he’d said. “When it bears fruit, we’ll have a real home.” He’d knelt on the floor, using a key to engrave our initials into the bottom of the pot. He’d said, “Evie, you’ll be the boss of our home.” That lemon tree eventually did bear fruit. He’d said when it produced a few more, he’d pick them for me to make honey water. Later, we bought this house, and the tree came with us. I walked to the balcony. The lemon tree’s leaves were mostly yellow, some already withered, curling at the edges and falling off. When had it started to wither? I noticed his work tablet on the coffee table. He usually never brought it home. On a sudden impulse, I picked it up and opened it. The screen saver was a girl’s sleeping face. Young, fair-skinned, long eyelashes, hair fanned out on a pillow—it was our bedroom pillow. I checked the timestamp: three months ago, when I was on a business trip to Seattle. The night before I left, he’d held me, saying he’d miss me, asking me to come back soon. The day I left, he drove me to the airport, kissed me at security, and said, “Call me when you land.” When I arrived in Seattle, I called to check in, but he didn’t answer. Later, he texted that he was in a meeting. It turned out that night, he was in our bed, holding another girl. 3 The bedroom door suddenly opened. Ian walked out and saw the tablet in my hand. His face instantly changed. “How many is this one?” I asked. He didn’t speak, heading to the kitchen for water. I followed him. “Ian, say something!” He finished his water, then turned to face me. “Evie, do you have to do this?” “Do what?” My voice trembled. “I’m asking you a question! Are you deaf?” After a long silence, he sighed. “Evie, the young girl was a bit naive. I told you I’d try my best to keep things from you in the future.” I looked at him, at this man I’d loved for seven years, and suddenly he felt like a complete stranger. “You said you’d only ever love me,” I said. “You said when the lemon tree bore fruit, we’d get married. You said…” “Evie, I’m tired,” he cut me off. “If you want to break up, fine. If you want to continue, fine. I don’t care. But remember this: the world is just like this, not as clean as you imagine. Even if you were with someone else, it would be the same.” He let go of me and pulled a keyring from his pocket. “See?” He dangled the keys. “I still keep the most important things. Evie, you’re still different to me.” I stared at that key. The year we graduated, when he couldn’t find a job, he’d gotten drunk, held me, and cried. “Evie, I only have you,” he’d wept like a child. “What would I do without you?” That old brass key belonged to the tiny, run-down studio apartment he’d saved up for ages to rent. When he gave me the key, he’d said, “This will be our foundation.” Different? Different how? Was I just more qualified than the other women to be his respectable cover? I snatched the key and hurled it at him. “Ian, you’re disgusting!” “Are you done with your tantrum?” He took a step forward, glaring down at me. “What do you think you even have left now? You quit your job, you lost your friends, you’ve spent every day revolving around me! Without me, could you even survive?” He pressed me back, my spine hitting the cold entryway wall. “How I live is none of your concern!” “If I don’t care for you, who will?” He raised a hand and gripped my chin, his fingers digging in. “Evie, settle down. Mrs. Chen will still be your title. Keep this up, and you’ll lose everything!” I struggled violently, pushing him away. “I don’t want it!” He probably hadn’t expected me to use such force. He stumbled, instinctively pushing me back. I was standing at the edge of the entryway steps; my foot missed, and I toppled backward. I saw Ian’s horrified face, his hand reaching out but failing to grasp me. Seconds later, excruciating pain exploded in my lower abdomen, as if a hand was violently twisting inside me. I curled into a ball, cold sweat instantly soaking my clothes. Ian rushed over. “Evie?!” “It hurts…” Blood. Warm, thick blood streamed down my legs, staining the pale floor. “I… I’ll call an ambulance!” He fumbled for his phone, fumbling several times before unlocking it. The doctor removed her mask. “Approximately eight weeks pregnant, miscarried. Is the family here?” “How…” Ian stood by the bed, his lips moving. “How did she get pregnant now?” The doctor gave him a look, but said nothing. Ian turned to me, his expression complex, a fleeting moment of panic quickly replaced by irritation. “Evie, I’m upset about the baby too, but it’s done. What more do you want from me?” I lay on the hospital bed, my abdomen still throbbing faintly, my heart utterly numb.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391068”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Emerging from the asylum, I found myself driving for hire. Never in a million years did I imagine tonight’s passengers would be my sister, Lydia, and my ex-wife, Cici. The car door opened, and a familiar perfume, mingled with the sharp scent of alcohol, wafted in. From the backseat, they chatted about corporate mergers and Swiss ski trips, their voices light and carefree. My throat felt dry. I couldn’t help but cough. “Still taking fares when you’re sick?” Lydia’s voice instantly cut through the air, laced with disdain. “There’s a pregnant woman in the car. Can you really afford to spread your illness?” I didn’t respond. Then, Cici suddenly looked up, her gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror. Her voice was as gentle and composed as ever. “Aiden Caldwell, long time no see.” A suffocating silence descended on the car. “Aiden Caldwell?!” Lydia lurched forward. “You’re actually alive?!” “Cici, don’t you remember he had that… disease? Get out, quickly!” The car conveniently pulled to a stop in front of a sprawling luxury mansion. They practically fled, disappearing into the night. I sat in the car, my hand slowly pressing against my chest. Turns out, it didn’t ache here anymore. Time truly does smooth over everything. 1 I watched my sister, Lydia, rush away, pulling Cici along. “Cici, have you lost your mind? He had that awful disease! Come on, let’s just pretend we saw nothing tonight…” I sat in the driver’s seat, my hands trembling slightly. I fumbled for my cigarette pack, pulled one out, and lit it. Once, I’d smoked cigars worth thousands without a second thought. Now… The moment the cigarette ignited, I choked, bending over in a coughing fit. The car window was gently tapped. Cici had somehow returned, standing beside the car. She leaned in slightly, her voice hushed. “Aiden, it’s Julian’s birthday today. Mom and Dad are there. Do you… want to come in and see them?” I snuffed out the cigarette, my voice hoarse. “No need. Aren’t things clearer with one less person around?” “Don’t say that.” She gently shook her head. “You are, after all, a true Caldwell.” Before her words faded, the villa door swung open. A man strode out. “Cici! Who are you talking to?” “Didn’t I tell you not to bother with those shady characters from outside?” I didn’t listen any further. I slammed my foot on the accelerator and sped off. The cold wind swept through the car, making me shiver. The car finally stopped in front of a small pastry shop. The apprentice, Liam, pushed aside the curtain and stepped out, a smile on his face. “Boss, you’re back.” My second job began. Kneading dough, rolling wrappers, filling pastries, steaming them. After finishing all the work, I’d lie down for barely three or four hours before having to get up and drive again. These past years, I’d forgotten how to sleep. At three in the morning, the steam from the pastry shop finally dissipated. Liam squatted by the door, scrolling on his phone, and suddenly let out a “Tsk.” “Wow! Boss, look! The Caldwells are throwing a huge yacht party for their adopted son’s birthday! What a spectacle… And his wife is stunning.” The camera panned across the deck. Julian Caldwell was holding Cici by the waist, whispering something into her ear. She smiled beautifully, as beautiful as she had been on our wedding day. My father stood nearby, lovingly patting Julian’s shoulder. “Heard the Caldwell’s second son passed away eight years ago,” Liam mumbled casually. “Otherwise, none of this would be inherited by the adopted son, would it? It’s fate, I guess…” He sighed, envy coloring his face. “Forget houses, how many years would we have to sell pastries just to buy one of their car tires?” I looked at him and shook my head. That life, I knew it too well. But eight years ago, I was brutally kicked from those clouds straight into hell. The hands that pushed me down—one pair belonged to my new bride, the other, to my own family. 2 I lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag. Liam, wiping down tables, looked up at me. “Boss, your cough is getting worse. You should smoke less.” I rasped, “Can’t quit.” He sighed, turning back to his tidying, sweeping with a feather duster. “Boss, New Year’s is coming. I’m heading back to my hometown in a couple of days, so I’ll clean up the shop first.” As the duster reached under the bed, it suddenly hit something hard. He pulled out a dust-covered box. Opening it, he found a ring inside. Even the dust couldn’t dim its shine. “Boss, this looks really expensive,” Liam said, carefully holding it. “You should keep it safe.” He handed me the box. The moment my fingertips brushed the edge, I flinched back as if burned. Eight years ago, I had personally placed this ring on Cici’s finger. Memories flooded back. Once, she was just a little girl who had crawled out of earthquake ruins. My father and I were surveying the village and found her amidst the rubble. Seeing her plight, I sponsored her education. She wrote to me every month, her feelings in those letters growing clearer with each passing year. Later, I bought her a phone. She confessed her feelings over the phone, and I refused. She didn’t pester me, but instead studied harder, getting into a prestigious university abroad. When she returned, she was parachuted in as the youngest department manager in the company. Standing before me again, she said, “Aiden Caldwell, do I deserve you now?” This time, I nodded. News of my impending marriage reached home, and my father smashed his favorite teapot, my mother cried all night. I knelt in the family chapel for three days, eventually swaying them. On our wedding day, I announced her name to the world. The wedding dress was custom-made by a designer I hired for her, and I personally placed the ring on her finger. After the wedding, I gradually let her take over company affairs, transferring my shares, little by little, into her name. But at some point, fierce arguments began to erupt between her and my adopted brother, Julian Caldwell. They often bickered incessantly over projects. Cici once directly threw a cup of coffee in Julian’s face, sealing their animosity. I advised Julian to be more accommodating with Cici, but he just sneered at me. “Your taste in women is truly terrible.” I thought these two would remain at odds forever. Until I saw Julian wearing the same brand of clothes as me—a brand I frequently wore. Cici, unperturbed, said, “The store had a buy-one-get-one-free offer, so I picked one up for Julian too.” I was even happy when their relationship seemed to mend. Later, when Cici was kidnapped by a competitor, the first to rush to her rescue was Julian. When I arrived, I saw him tightly embracing a tear-streaked Cici. My heart felt heavy, but I said nothing. Cici later explained, “I was terrified then. No matter who arrived first, I would have reacted the same way.” The day after our wedding, I flew abroad for an urgent project. When I returned, I didn’t tell her, wanting to surprise her. I quietly walked to the glass conservatory I had given her. And then, I witnessed a sight I would never forget. My adopted brother, Julian Caldwell, had my new wife, Cici, pressed against the transparent glass. Their bodies were intimately entwined, the conservatory filled with an illicit spring glow. The gift box in my hand fell to the ground with a ‘thud.’ 3 I rushed forward and landed a solid punch on Julian. Cici frantically dressed, grabbing my arm. “Aiden, let me explain!” “Explain?” I shook off her hand. “Explain how you two ended up together? Do you think I’m blind?” I looked at Julian, then at Cici. In my extreme fury, a ridiculous glimmer of hope still remained—perhaps she was just momentarily confused. I extended my hand to Cici. “Come here. I’ll give you one last chance.” The moment she moved, Julian yanked her back behind him. My brother, who had always been so gentle with me, now had eyes filled with disgust. He looked at me and said clearly, “Aiden, I’m sorry. But Cici and I are truly in love.” “Just let her go.” I swung a punch at his face, and blood immediately gushed out. Cici shrieked, then raised her hand and slapped me across the face. After hitting me, even she seemed stunned. I looked at the fresh hickeys on her neck and suddenly felt a chill spread through my body. Julian wiped the blood, a cold smirk on his face. “Aiden Caldwell, what else can you do besides resort to violence? Face reality.” He paused, then each word landed like a blow. “And, she’s already carrying my child.” The last thread in my mind snapped. Julian and I lunged at each other. Cici rushed in to intervene, but I accidentally pushed her away with force. She fell heavily to the ground, and a pool of blood quickly spread beneath her. She had miscarried. In the hospital, my mother continuously wiped away tears. My father, his face grim, finally spoke. “Aiden, you were too impulsive. No matter how angry you are, you shouldn’t lay hands on a pregnant woman.” I looked at them, finding it all absurd. “She was carrying Julian’s child. A bastard with no blood ties to the Caldwell family, and you still want it?” “Silence!” My father roared, his cane striking my calf with brutal force. My leg buckled, and I crashed to my knees. My father’s chest heaved as he pointed his cane at me. “You animal, listen carefully!” “Julian’s father was a brother I fought alongside on the battlefield, a man who took a bullet for me! Before he died, he entrusted me with only one thing: to care for his only son!” He looked down at me. “In your mother’s and my heart, Julian is a Caldwell! If you dare touch him again, I won’t need anyone else; I’ll break your legs myself!” I knelt there, the pain in my leg nothing compared to the cold spreading through my heart. Turns out, twenty years of father-son affection couldn’t outweigh a single dying wish. My father sternly scolded, “Still talking back! If you hadn’t been so neglectful of Cici, how would she have ended up with Julian? You’ve been headstrong and willful since childhood, nothing like your brother, who is steady and sensible! Apologize to your brother!” Lydia chimed in. “Aiden, since Julian and Cici are truly in love, why don’t you just let them be?” “Dad!” my voice trembled. “His feelings are important, but can your biological son’s dignity be trampled so casually?!” I looked up, catching Julian and Cici exchanging glances. That fleeting moment of intimacy shattered my last shred of illusion. I abruptly stood up and rushed to the hospital bed, grabbing Cici’s wrist and dragging her off. “Let’s go! Let’s get out of here. I won’t hold anything against you!” Cici shrieked, falling to the floor. She grabbed the vase from the bedside table and violently smashed it over my head. “Let go of me!” The porcelain shattered on my scalp, blood mixed with cold water streaming down my face. My father’s bodyguards instantly rushed in, pinning my arms behind my back and forcing me to the ground. “Mad! He’s truly mad!” my father roared. “Send him to psychiatry! Lock him up and let him clear his head!” As I was pressed to the ground, the last thing I saw was Julian carefully shielding Cici in his embrace. I was sent to a mental asylum. Under the effects of sedatives, time became a blur. During my daily one-hour TV time, I always saw news of Julian and Cici. They had gone to the Maldives with my sister, their smiles blinding. I knew that if I kept resisting, I’d never get out. I started to be compliant, taking my medication diligently, accepting “treatment” on schedule. On the day of my discharge, Julian personally drove to pick me up. Cici sat in the passenger seat, and Lydia accompanied me in the back. The car drove for a long time before Lydia suddenly spoke. “Aiden, when I visited you last time, you’d already signed the divorce papers. This morning, Cici and Julian officially registered their marriage.” She shook her phone, the screen displaying their wedding photo. I felt a dizzy spell; I had no recollection of ever signing anything. “Stop the car!” “Aiden!” Lydia frowned in annoyance. “Can you please stop making a scene? Look at Julian, always so composed. No wonder Mom and Dad decided to hand the entire company over to him.” I suddenly grabbed the back of the front seat. “What about my shares?” Cici turned around, her voice still gentle. “Aiden, you were deemed mentally incapacitated during your illness. Mom and Dad thought it was for your own good to temporarily entrust your shares to Julian.” “That was my life’s work!” I stared at the back of Julian’s head. He scoffed. “Aiden, you don’t have the capability. Isn’t it better to just be a rich idler?” I looked at the people in the car. My wife, my “brother,” my sister. “Stop the car,” my voice was very soft. “Otherwise…” I suddenly leaned forward, grabbing a handful of Julian’s hair and yanking hard!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391084”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I ground away at the company for fifteen years. I personally trained sixty-two top-performing sales champions. Today, the company announced layoffs, and the list had only one name on it: mine. While I was zoning out in a coffee shop, the Chairman sat down across from me with a cheerful smile. “How are the presentation materials coming along for next week’s Ace Sales Training?” I closed my laptop and looked at him calmly. “Mr. Chairman, I was just laid off.” The smile on his face froze instantly… 01 The frozen smile was like a poorly drawn frame of animation forcibly paused. Richard Sterling, the founder of Vanguard Group, the man I had called Mr. Chairman for fifteen years, now had muscles twitching uncontrollably on his face. The latte he had just brought over still exuded a warm aroma, but the fingers gripping the cup were trembling slightly. “What?” He squeezed the word out through clenched teeth, his voice changing pitch from shock. “What did you say? Who laid you off? This is absurd!” He stood up abruptly, a movement so large it knocked over his chair, creating a harsh scraping sound that drew sideways glances from everyone in the coffee shop. But he didn’t care at all. He pulled out his phone, his fingers jabbing furiously at the screen, his anger practically erupting from it. “Which department did this? HR? Or that guy named Miller in Sales?” The call connected. He roared into the receiver, saliva flying. “Arthur Miller! Have you lost your damn mind? Who gave you the authority to fire Chloe? Do you know she has a company-wide Ace Training next week? How is the company supposed to function without her? Is your brain broken?” I sat quietly, even having the leisure to pick up that latte and take a small sip. The coffee was fragrant, and also very bitter. I looked at Mr. Sterling’s livid face, at his chest heaving violently with anger, but inside, I felt dead silence. Just three hours ago, my life had been brutally split in two. … “Director Davis, here is your termination notice.” The newly appointed, parachuted-in Vice President, Arthur Miller, pushed a cold document in front of me. Behind him stood a young woman with exquisite makeup, her eyes filled with undisguised contempt and smugness. She was Arthur’s niece, Mia, a recent college graduate. “The company needs to optimize its organizational structure and inject fresh blood.” Arthur’s corporate speak was airtight. “Director Davis, thank you for your fifteen years of hard work. But times are changing, and your methods might not be quite suited for today’s fast-paced market.” Mia stepped forward, her slender fingers tracing over the rows of trophies on my desk, finally picking up the heaviest one: the “Group Fifteen-Year Outstanding Contribution Award.” She tossed it in her hand, like weighing a worthless toy. “Senior, looking at these things now, they are indeed a bit outdated.” She smiled charmingly, but her words were incredibly venomous. “Nowadays, it’s all about internet thinking and monetizing traffic. We young people won’t learn your grunt work of running door-to-door to clients.” Standing in my office were several team leaders I had personally promoted. They had once stood outside my office door for two hours just to get a training spot. They had once wept tears of joy in front of me for signing a huge deal. Right now, they all had their heads down, their eyes dodging, like a flock of tamed quails, even breathing carefully. Arthur raised his wrist to check his watch, his tone carrying impatience. “Director Davis, I’ll give you one hour to pack your personal belongings. All data on the company computer is company property. I will have the tech department change the passwords immediately.” What he was talking about was the complete training system I had spent fifteen years building, hailed as Vanguard Group’s sales bible: the “Thunderbolt Protocol.” That was my child, the sum total of my entire career’s effort. Now, they wanted to kick me out and steal my child. I didn’t argue, I didn’t roar, I didn’t even have an expression. I just calmly stood up and packed a water cup and a potted plant from my desk. The moment I walked out of the office, I heard Mia impatiently issuing orders to the others. “Quick, clean up this office thoroughly. I don’t like this old, decaying smell!” Behind me, the hasty agreements of my former subordinates echoed. I walked out of the Vanguard Group building step by step. The sunlight was blinding. I looked back at this building where I had struggled for fifteen years; it gleamed with cold light in the sun. On that dead wasteland in my heart, there wasn’t even a breeze. … On the other end of the phone, Arthur’s voice came through the receiver, not loud, but carrying an emboldened toughness. I couldn’t hear what he said clearly, but I saw the anger on Mr. Sterling’s face extinguish instantly, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head. His momentum weakened at a visible rate. The roaring turned into suppressed questioning, and finally into powerless compromise. “…I understand.” Mr. Sterling hung up the phone, his face looking as ugly as if he had swallowed a fly. He sat down dejectedly, avoiding my gaze, and promised dryly: “Chloe, you… trust me, this must be a misunderstanding. Don’t worry, I… I’ll go communicate with the shareholders again. Tomorrow, you come to work as normal.” I looked at him, this man who had once been as reliable as a mountain in my heart. His eyes were wandering, his promises hollow. I asked calmly, “Mr. Sterling, do you mean I should ignore the termination contract already issued by HR, ignore the face-to-face dismissal order from VP Miller, and just walk through the company doors openly tomorrow?” My voice was soft, but like a needle, it precisely pierced his hypocritical protective shell. “When that happens, will I be stopped at the door by security, or treated as a trespasser and handed over to the police?” He opened his mouth but couldn’t say a single word. I closed the laptop in front of me and stood up. “Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Sterling.” I looked at his instantly aged face, and the last bit of attachment to this company in my heart vanished like smoke. “Goodbye.” I turned and left, without looking back. I could feel his complex gaze—full of regret, powerlessness, and mixed with relief—sticking to my back. Goodbye, Vanguard. Goodbye, my fifteen years of youth. 02 The next day, I didn’t receive a call from Mr. Sterling. What I received was an icy, official termination email from the HR department. In the attachment was the severance package. Standard severance pay based on years of service plus one month. Not a penny more, not a penny less, strictly executing the minimum standard of labor laws. They couldn’t even be bothered to offer a final bit of dignity. I looked at that glaring number and suddenly smiled. Fifteen years of dedication, the cultivation of sixty-two top sales reps, countless days and nights of blood, sweat, and tears, ultimately amounted to just this little bit of money. Truly, clean and efficient. I picked up my phone and sent Mr. Sterling one last message. “Mr. Sterling, thank you for your cultivation over the past fifteen years.” No questioning, no resentment, just a polite farewell. Like declaring the absolute death of a relationship. The phone screen lit up and dimmed, darkened and lit up. In the end, he still didn’t reply. I tapped open the WeChat group I had personally created, the once bustling “Vanguard Top Sales” group. Inside the group, dead silence. As if everyone had agreed to play deaf and dumb regarding my departure. I drafted a message and sent it. “I have left the company. Take care, everyone.” On the screen, my solitary sentence was like a pebble sinking into the deep sea, failing to stir up a single ripple. After a long time, a few people cautiously sent me private messages. The content was largely the same, nothing more than “Chloe, this is so sudden” or “Chloe, take care.” One of them was a regional director I had once mentored hand-in-hand, now holding a high position in the company. He sent a sentence: “Chloe, I’m sorry.” Then, I found out he had deleted me. I clicked into his profile. His latest post was sharing a company press release about VP Miller’s far-sighted leadership reforming and innovating the sales department. My heart felt like it was gripped by an invisible hand—not painful, just a bit numb. What made me feel even more absurd was another top sales rep. Let’s call him Rep B. Three years ago, because of a gambling addiction, he owed a massive gambling debt and was cornered by debt collectors at the company entrance. It was I who quietly paid off that money for him and pulled him back from the brink of being fired. He knelt in front of me then, crying and saying I would be his real sister from now on. Right now, he sent me a WeChat message. “Chloe, VP Miller is young and promising, and he has the backing of major shareholders; his future is limitless. Don’t blame us folks lower down, we all have to eat.” Before I could reply, I saw his profile update. An intimate photo of him with Arthur Miller. In the photo, he smiled obsequiously and attentively. The caption read: “Following VP Miller’s lead closely, creating brilliance once again!” That smiling face, right now in my eyes, was incredibly ugly. I silently scrolled through my phone contacts. Sixty-two sales champions I had personally cultivated. At this moment, not a single one dared to speak up for me in public. It turns out human nature could be this cold and thin. I felt no anger, nor sorrow. I just took out a pen and paper, and stroke by stroke, clearly wrote down the names of that regional director who deleted me and that Rep B who was “creating brilliance once again” in his post. I don’t have many virtues, but I have a particularly good memory. Especially for holding grudges. Right then, my phone rang abruptly. The name on the caller ID cracked open a tiny fissure in my frozen heart. Leo. The first sales champion I ever mentored. Also the only one who, after leaving Vanguard, successfully started his own business and kept in touch with me. I answered the phone. “Chloe, where are you?” Leo’s voice was crisp and clean as always, carrying irrepressible anger. “I just heard what those bastards did. How are you holding up? Don’t trust Richard Sterling, that old fox. He only acts like a good guy when there’s no conflict of interest. And ignore those spineless cowards, a bunch of ungrateful wretches who bite the hand that feeds them!” This call was the first human words, the first warmth I heard after being laid off. I looked at the gray sky outside the window, and my perpetually tense nerves finally loosened. I sniffled, my voice remaining calm. “No need to come over, I’m fine.” “I just need some time to liquidate my assets.” Leo on the other end of the line paused, then understood something. “Chloe, you…” “Wait for my news.” I hung up, my gaze becoming sharp again. Yes, assets. It’s time to let them know what my, Chloe Davis’s, true assets actually are. 03 Two days later, Leo appeared at my apartment, looking travel-worn. Looking at the living room, as tidy as ever, and my calm face, his suspended heart dropped halfway. “Chloe, are you really okay?” He asked, still worried. I smiled, didn’t answer, but turned to the safe in the study and took out a thick manila envelope. I laid the contents out on the coffee table piece by piece. A stack of yellowed, handwritten manuscripts. A portable hard drive containing a massive amount of original files. And a thin, yet overwhelmingly weighty, supplementary agreement. “What’s this?” Leo picked up the agreement, the expression on his face going from confused, to shocked, to ecstatic. “Chloe! You…” He was so excited he was incoherent. This agreement was something I specifically added ten years ago when renewing my long-term contract with Vanguard Group. At that time, my “Thunderbolt Protocol” sales training system was just taking shape. It had achieved huge success within the group and attracted the covetous eyes of countless peers. To keep me, Mr. Sterling agreed to almost every request I made. This request I made didn’t seem unreasonable at the time. The agreement explicitly stated: Within the “Thunderbolt Protocol” training system, all course models, core methodologies, case study libraries, and related text, charts, audio, and video materials independently originated by me, Chloe Davis, have their intellectual property rights belonging to me personally. Vanguard Group only had the right to free use during my tenure. At the end of the agreement was Richard Sterling’s flamboyant signature and the bright red corporate seal of the group. This was the final talisman I kept for myself back then, to prevent my life’s work from being shamelessly plagiarized. I never thought that one day, it would become my nuclear weapon for counterattack. “Chloe, this is a nuclear weapon!” Leo’s voice was trembling. “We’ll send a lawyer’s letter right now! Sue them! Make them pay until they’re bankrupt!” I shook my head, picked up my teacup, and blew on the floating tea leaves. “No rush.” My tone was as calm as discussing the weather. “A nuclear weapon cannot be used lightly. It must be used at the most critical moment to inflict maximum damage.” Leo looked at me, his eyes full of awe. “Then… what do we do now?” I opened my laptop, logged into a long-unused old account, and entered Vanguard Group’s internal forum. As soon as it opened, the screen was filled with promotions for next week’s Ace Sales Training. Bright red headlines, exhausting all capabilities of flattery. Genius Rookie Mia Injects New Vitality into the Classic “Thunderbolt Protocol”! Epoch-Making Upgrade! “Thunderbolt Protocol 2.0” About to Detonate the Whole Group! The accompanying picture was a heavily photoshopped image of Mia in an expensive business suit, a confident smile on her face. The curve of my lips grew colder and colder. “Upgraded version? Very well.” I pointed at the screen and said to Leo, “Isn’t Mia supposed to give the Ace Training lecture next week?” “Let her.” “Every word she says, every PowerPoint slide she uses, will become courtroom evidence. It will make the Arthur Miller behind her, and the entire Vanguard Group, lose face completely in front of the whole company.” Leo suddenly understood, excitedly slapping his thigh. “Chloe, this move of yours is too ruthless! A public execution!” I smiled, but there was no amusement in my eyes. “I just want to see how a thief, under the spotlight, can righteously claim stolen goods as her own.” “I want to make Richard Sterling, and all the executives at Vanguard, see clearly exactly what they drove away, and what kind of trash they are holding in the palms of their hands.” I closed the laptop and looked out the window. The moment before a storm is always exceptionally quiet. And I am the one summoning the storm. 04 On the day of the Ace Sales Training, Vanguard Group’s main auditorium was packed. To build momentum for Mia, Arthur Miller specifically ordered an internal live stream across the entire group. From headquarters to major regional offices, from middle management to frontline sales, thousands of people were watching online. I sat leisurely on my couch at home, the massive screen in front of me showing the live feed. Leo was beside me, his palms sweating from nervousness. “Chloe, the cease-and-desist letters are ready to go at any moment.” “Wait a little longer.” I picked up a cup of pour-over coffee, completely composed. On the screen, Mia, wearing an expensive white Chanel suit, stood under the spotlight, trying hard to strike the pose of a capable elite. Unfortunately, her pitiful lack of experience and empty eyes completely failed to support the outfit, making her look ridiculous instead. The training began. She opened the PPT and started reading from the script. That PPT was the final version I had spent three all-nighters making last month. Every word, every image, every case study was steeped in my blood and sweat. Mia clearly hadn’t grasped the content; she was just stumbling through the script. When it came to several key interactive segments, she couldn’t handle the questions thrown by the veteran salespeople below at all. She either prevaricated or skipped them entirely, making the scene highly awkward. In the live stream chat, veiled sarcasm began to appear. “This… is not even as good as me explaining it.” “Feels like listening to a recording.” “VP Miller looks green in the front row.” I saw it. Arthur Miller, sitting in the front row, did indeed look increasingly terrible. He frequently winked at Mia on stage, his lips pressed tightly together, stopping just short of going up there himself. Receiving her uncle’s warning, fine beads of sweat appeared on Mia’s forehead, and her voice began to tremble. To salvage the situation, she took a deep breath and, pretending to be calm, pressed the button for the next slide. “Next, I will explain in detail the core, original model of the ‘Thunderbolt Protocol’—The Three Gates of Client Psychology!” Now. I picked up my phone and sent one word to the head of Leo’s legal team. “Send.” In an instant, it was as if an invisible, massive net descended from the sky, enveloping the entire Vanguard Group. All board members, including Richard Sterling. All executives at the Vice President level and above, including Arthur Miller. The heads of all major regions, and all employees of the group’s legal department. Their phones and computers, at the exact same moment, received an email from a top-tier national law firm. The subject line was concise, yet shocking. [Warning of Infringement Regarding Vanguard Group and its Employee Mia’s Severe Violation of Ms. Chloe Davis’s “Thunderbolt Protocol” Intellectual Property Rights] The body of the email was well-organized, with irrefutable evidence. A scanned copy of the yellowed supplementary agreement with Richard Sterling’s handwritten signature. The original manuscripts and creation records with detailed timestamps that I had accumulated over more than a decade. And, a real-time live stream link. The link pointed exactly to the footage of Mia on stage, spitting everywhere as she explained “The Three Gates of Client Psychology.” The live stream chat, after three seconds of dead silence, completely exploded. “?????? What email did I just receive??” “Holy shit! I got it too! Sent by a top law firm!” “Director Davis’s IP? So this whole set of things belongs to Director Davis herself?” “What Mia is presenting is Director Davis’s material? This is… theft?” “VP Miller, come out and explain! What the hell is going on!” “My god, stealing things on a public live stream, this is too wild!” On stage, Mia had absolutely no idea what had happened. She watched the suddenly agitated crowd below, saw them all looking down at their phones, and then looking at her with expressions as if they’d seen a ghost. The hand holding the microphone began to tremble uncontrollably. Her mind went completely blank. She looked pleadingly at Arthur Miller in the audience. Arthur Miller didn’t look at her. He stared fixedly at his phone screen. That face could no longer be described as ugly; it was black as the bottom of a pot, twisted and fierce. He had the heart to kill someone. … At the same time, in the Chairman’s office. Richard Sterling stood up from his executive chair with a whoosh, the huge movement knocking over a precious Yixing clay teacup on his desk. Scalding tea spilled all over his hand, but he felt nothing. He stared dead at the scanned copy of the agreement in the email, looking at the name he had signed when he was high-spirited and vigorous back then. He finally understood completely what I meant by “liquidating assets” that day in the coffee shop. It wasn’t a remark made in anger. It was a declaration of war, drafted long ago. I turned off the noisy live stream. On the screen, Mia looked like she was about to cry, like a clown stripped naked and thrown into the middle of a public square. I had seen enough of this good show. I sent Leo a message. “Step one, complete.” The phone vibrated. It was Leo’s reply. “Chloe, badass!” I smiled and finished the last sip of coffee in my cup. The good show had just begun.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391100”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel