Category: English

The takedown went sideways. My dad, Deputy Chief Miller, was taken hostage shielding a civilian. Then the feed went live, broadcast by the scumbag who had a knife to his throat. “You’ve got ten minutes,” the man snarled into the camera. “Let me walk, or he’s dead.” My hands shook as I frantically dialed Cole’s number. He was my father’s protégé, the detective my dad had personally trained. He was also the only person I knew who could get to that warehouse in time. The phone picked up. “Cole,” I choked out, my voice a raw whisper. “The address I just sent you—you have to go. Now! You’re the only one who can save my dad.” He cut me off with a light, condescending laugh. “Phoebe, is this another attempt to get my attention? Does this jealousy thing ever get old?” A cat meowed in the background, followed by a woman’s playful, syrupy voice. “Bro, that’s way too much soap!” “I just talked to your dad yesterday,” Cole said, his voice softening for her, not for me. “He put in his retirement papers. What kind of danger could he possibly be in? Just be good, okay? Don’t make things difficult.” He hung up before I could scream. Thirty seconds left on the kidnapper’s countdown. I called Cole again and again, my desperation clawing at my throat. Each call went straight to voicemail. He’d blocked me. At the same moment, an Instagram story popped up on my feed. It was from Jenna, his “best friend.” [Image: Cole and Jenna, heads close together, laughing as they lather a fluffy white cat in a sink. The lighting is warm, intimate.] Caption: My dad just has to say the word, and my bestie drops everything to come give my baby a bath. The brotherhood is real, people. The corners of his eyes crinkled with a joy I hadn’t seen directed at me in months. He was glowing with a sweetness that felt like a physical blow. On the livestream, the knife dragged across my father’s throat. His eyes, wide with shock, found the camera for a split second before he collapsed. My phone slipped from my numb fingers. My heart, in that precise moment, stopped beating and turned to stone. 1 The department brought my father’s body home. At the funeral, one of his oldest friends, a captain from the narcotics division, pulled me into a hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Phoebe. Your father cracked more major cases than anyone in the history of this precinct. He died a hero, saving a civilian. He’s the pride of the department.” He choked up then, his eyes filled with a pity that went beyond grief. I knew what he was thinking. Everyone in the department knew my fiancé had ignored a hostage situation involving his own mentor to stay home with his “best friend.” I stood before the polished headstone, dry-eyed, clutching the detective’s shield my father had been awarded years ago. Its sharp edges dug into my palm, the pain a welcome anchor, a reminder to stay upright. My phone buzzed. A text message. My condolences, Phoebe. I’ve been briefed on what happened. I will make sure you get justice. It was from Captain Evans, my father’s successor and a man I trusted implicitly. I scrolled through my phone. Not a single call, not a single text from Cole. Steeling myself, I dialed his number. I just wanted him to be here. To say one last goodbye to the man who had treated him like a son. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing. My dad had poured everything into Cole, personally mentoring him, fast-tracking his promotion to Detective. He had been a good student. He had been a good fiancé. Until Jenna came back to the States. Then came the missed dates. He wasn’t there for my birthday. He wasn’t there when I had the miscarriage. He wasn’t there when my father was dying. And now, at his funeral, he was still gone. Hours later, after the last of the mourners had left and I was alone in the rain, his text finally came through. Phoebe, you need to be more understanding. Stop with the drama. It’s exhausting. Jenna is my friend. You have no right to be jealous of her. A second text followed. I took a couple days off to go hiking with Jenna, clear her head. The signal is bad up here. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency. Those two messages shattered the last, fragile piece of hope I had for him. For us. I tilted my head back, letting the cold rain wash over my face, mixing with the tears I could no longer hold back. The sting was sharp, real. Then, with a decisiveness that felt foreign and terrifying, I blocked Cole’s number, his social media, every possible avenue of contact. Don’t worry, I thought. I’ll never bother you again. Back at the apartment, I locked myself in my room and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. He answered immediately. He didn’t speak, but I could hear the steady, calm rhythm of his breathing. I took a shaky breath. “It’s Phoebe Miller.” His voice was a low baritone, steady and reassuring. “I know. I’m here.” “I want to inherit my father’s badge number,” I said, the words coming out in a rush. “I want to finish what he started. I need you to approve my request to go undercover.” Silence. I could picture Captain Evans on the other end, his brow furrowed with concern. “That crew works for the Kael Syndicate,” he said finally. “Your father, a deputy chief, couldn’t get out alive. I can’t let you walk into that kind of danger. Besides…” “I already passed the internal evaluation,” I cut in, my voice sharp with urgency. “I’m the top candidate for this operation. You know my mother died when I was young; my dad raised me by himself. He’s all I had. I can’t let the men who did this to him walk free. I won’t.” A heavy sigh came through the line. “Does Cole know about this?” “No,” I said, the word like ice. “And he doesn’t need to.” “Alright,” he conceded. “Send me the report. I’ll make the arrangements. The operation begins in two days. That gives you time to get your personal affairs in order.” He paused for a beat. “Come back safe, Phoebe. For your dad. And for… for the people who truly care about you.” “I will.” After hanging up, I started packing. I decided to sell everything I owned, including all the gifts Cole had ever given me. While clearing my desk, I found a framed photo of us. We were at the beach, the sun bright in our eyes. He was hugging me from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head. We looked so happy. The sight of it was nauseating. I pulled the photo from its frame, tore it precisely down the middle, and dropped his smiling face into the trash. Just then, I heard a key in the lock. The front door swung open and Cole walked in, his arm around Jenna. She was practically draped over him, her chest pressed intimately against his bicep. Her eyes immediately landed on the baby grand piano in the corner—my father’s piano. Her face lit up. “Bro, there it is!” she squealed. “I played it last time I was here, remember? The acoustics are amazing, and it looks so good in photos! You promised you’d give it to me. No take-backs!” Cole’s smile faltered when he saw me standing in the middle of the living room. “Phoebe. You’re here. Good,” he said, forcing a casual tone. “Jenna loves this piano. I’m going to have it moved to her place. You haven’t played in years, anyway. It’s just collecting dust.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My father had spent his entire savings on that piano for me. And he was just… giving it away? Without even asking? “What did you just say? That was a gift from my father. It’s mine. Don’t you dare touch it.” Jenna let out a little “oops,” her eyes darting to the trash can. She leaned over, delicately plucked the torn half of the photo between two fingers, and dangled it in front of Cole. “Looks like we really pissed off the dragon lady, bro,” she said with a smirk. “She’s already tearing up pictures of you. We better get this piano out of here before she takes a sledgehammer to it.” Cole’s face darkened. “Phoebe, have you had enough? First, you lie about your dad being in trouble, and now this? How childish can you be?” He took a step forward, his voice dropping to a low, threatening tone. “This piano is leaving today, whether you like it or not. It’s not like you can play it anymore with that useless hand of yours.” The words struck me like a slap. “You forgot how my hand got this way, Cole?” I shot back, my voice trembling with rage. “I took a knife for you. The tendons were severed. Do you not remember that?” Jenna clicked her tongue, putting on a show of magnanimity. “Come on, Phoebe, that’s not fair. My bro remembers your sacrifice, he appreciates it. But he’s right, you can’t use the piano now. And what’s his is mine. It’s only natural that he’d give it to me. We’ve known each other forever. We don’t keep secrets, or possessions, from each other.” Cole looked at Jenna with sickening fondness. “Exactly. It’s just a piano. My best friend wants it. Can’t you just be generous for once? Instead of tearing up photos and throwing a tantrum?” I laughed, a sharp, broken sound. “My father is dead, Cole!” I screamed. “You think this is a tantrum? He was held hostage by armed criminals, and you were closer than anyone. The entire department knows you were the only one who could have saved him! And what were you doing?” I pointed a shaking finger at Jenna, who was smirking triumphantly. “You were washing her cat!” “He adored you! He was your mentor! Why didn’t you save him? You didn’t even show up for his funeral!” “That’s enough!” Cole roared, his voice cracking like a whip. “Are you still keeping up this act? Constantly talking about your dad being dead, cursing your own father… I never knew you were this twisted.” Jenna’s tone was pure innocence, but her eyes danced with malice. “You’re still holding a grudge over that? All he did was wash my cat. It wasn’t a big deal. We’re best friends, Phoebe. We don’t have all those complicated rules you seem to live by.” She ran a possessive hand over the piano’s glossy lid. “I really do love it, Cole.” He grinned, a flash of the old charm, and gave her a quick, playful slap on the ass. “Of course. We’re ride or die. I’d pull the moon down from the sky for you.” His gaze shifted back to me, his expression turning to ice. “The piano is moving today. And from this moment on, you are not to touch it.” He pulled out his phone and started dialing a moving company, right in front of me. Something inside me snapped. I grabbed the nearest thing—a heavy wooden jewelry box—and hurled it at them. It caught Jenna on the side of the head. Cole exploded. He lunged forward and slapped me, hard, across the face. The force of the blow sent me stumbling back into the piano bench. I put my hand out to catch myself, and a sickening crack echoed from my injured wrist. Pain, white-hot and blinding, shot up my arm. Tears welled in my eyes. For a second, Cole froze, a flicker of shock on his face. He reached out to help me up. I recoiled as if he were toxic. “Don’t touch me,” I spat. “You’re filthy.” He snatched his hand back, his face a mask of fury. “Fine. Have it your way. You care so much about this thing? I’ll have it chopped up for firewood.” Jenna dabbed at a tiny scratch on her forehead, her expression aggrieved but her voice triumphant. “Look, Phoebe, you’ve drawn blood. You can’t just assault me and get away with it. How about this? As compensation, you give me the piano, and I’ll convince my bro not to press charges.” “Get out,” I seethed. “Both of you, get out!” A surge of adrenaline drowned out the pain. I grabbed the piano bench and heaved it toward them. It crashed to the floor with a deafening bang. Jenna shrieked and hid behind Cole. I stood in front of the piano, my eyes blazing. “Anyone who touches this piano,” I snarled, “will have to go through me.” “You’ve lost your damn mind, Phoebe!” Cole was livid. He shoved me aside with brutal force. I crumpled to the floor. He loomed over me, his eyes filled with pure disgust. “Look at you. This pathetic, crazy act. No wonder your own father couldn’t stand you. If he really is dead, you probably drove him to it. You deserve this.” He still had the audacity to mention my father. With every ounce of strength I had, I launched myself up and slapped him across the face. The impact sent a shockwave through my already broken wrist. “Shut up!” I screamed. “You don’t have the right to even say his name!” His head snapped to the side. His eyes were wide with disbelief. Jenna gasped dramatically. “Phoebe, how could you hit him? I would never even dream of hurting a single hair on his head!” Just then, the doorbell rang. The movers had arrived. Cole’s face was tight with suppressed rage. “That’s the one,” he said, pointing at the piano. “Take it.” “No!” The movers hesitated, looking from my desperate face to Cole’s furious one. “Sir, the lady doesn’t seem to agree…” Cole scoffed and pulled a thick wad of cash from his wallet. “Triple the rate,” he snapped. “You don’t have to listen to a crazy person.” Jenna chimed in, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Gentlemen, please don’t mind her. She’s my friend’s girlfriend. She’s got… you know…” She tapped her temple with a single finger, a universally understood gesture for she’s not well. “Right,” the lead mover said, casting a pitiful glance my way before nodding to his crew. “Let’s get to work.” “No! You can’t!” I tried to block their path, but Cole grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. His grip was like steel, but his voice was a mockery of gentleness. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. Your doctor said this piano is a trigger for you. We’re just moving it for your own good.” They lifted my father’s piano and carried it out the door. I watched it disappear down the hallway until it was gone. Cole released me. His eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. I was numb, hollowed out by despair. I looked at him, my own eyes burning. “Cole,” I whispered, the words tearing from my raw throat. “We’re done.” He didn’t even turn around as he slung his arm around Jenna’s shoulders. “Fine with me,” he called back. “Don’t come crying to me when you regret it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394373”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Only when the men saw the village women and children slaughtered by raiders did they believe my warnings. Staring at the mutilated bodies, they erupted in rage. “Captain!” one shouted hoarsely. “You said Olivia was lying—that we should guard you and Sienna for her birthday! Now my son is dead! Where’s my wife?!” Miles turned deathly pale. I watched the bloodshed, tears falling. In my past life, when raiders attacked, my husband—the Island Guard Captain—took all the men to celebrate Sienna’s birthday. Pregnant, I crawled through storm drains to bring them back. But Sienna was killed by a stray raider. After hunting them down, Miles said nothing—until my childbirth. Then he brutalized me and threw me into the sea. “You,” he hissed, “lured the raiders out of jealousy. Since you wanted her fate, I’ll make sure you die like her.” When I woke again, I was back at the raid’s beginning. This time, if he wanted to protect her… let him. … Reborn, I watched the speedboats approach the shore, filled with marauders. A cold shiver ran through me, but I didn’t hesitate. I pulled the alarm. The blaring alarm sirens swiftly echoed across the entire island. But the island’s sole transport vessel, large enough to evacuate all the women and children, was gone. My closest friend stumbled towards me, her voice choked with tears. “Olivia, the raiders are attacking! Where are all the men? The ferry’s gone too. What are we going to do?!” Before I could answer, other women and children swarmed around me, their eyes, wide with helplessness and terror, fixed on me. As the only one who truly knew, I had to tell them. Miles had taken every man and every weapon, sailing the transport vessel out to international waters to celebrate Sienna’s birthday. My mother-in-law cursed wildly, enraged. “Has he gone mad?! He knows raiders could attack Havenport at any moment, and he dared to take every man?!” She spat Sienna’s name like venom. “That manipulative vixen! I always said she was no good! Always feigning weakness, luring men. And now look! Is she trying to get us all killed?!” Her breakdown triggered a switch, and the other women instantly erupted, screaming insults at Sienna for her shamelessness, for luring away their men. As they spoke, the marauders’ speedboats neared the shore, and panic intensified. I struggled to maintain control, telling everyone not to panic, to head for the shelter tunnels. Our island, isolated from the mainland, was frequently targeted by raiders. To protect ourselves, we had built a network of underground bunkers to withstand their assaults. The cramped shelter tunnels were packed with women and children, listening to the marauders’ cruel laughter echoing from above as they searched the island for women. A chilling wave of terror spread through everyone. To save everyone, the only option was to risk crawling through the storm drains that connected to the tunnels, then take a jet ski to get reinforcements. My mother-in-law grabbed my hand, her calloused hand slick with cold sweat. “Olivia, the safety of all the women and children rests on you. You must bring back help!” I managed a bitter smile, my face etched with reluctance. I told her I feared even if I went, Miles wouldn’t come back with me. At my words, a heavy silence fell over everyone. Ever since Miles rescued Sienna and brought her to the island three months ago, he had clung to her like a shadow. Under the guise of ‘caring for her,’ Miles was inseparable from her daily: fishing together, training together. Even the islanders whispered amongst themselves that he and Sienna seemed more like a couple. Yet, far from avoiding suspicion, Miles only grew more overtly intimate with her when faced with their teasing. I had argued with him countless times over this, demanding to know who his wife truly was. But he remained indifferent, instead accusing me of being petty and jealous. Our love had long since evaporated with Sienna’s arrival. Just when everyone was at a loss, Lily, my sister-in-law, stepped forward. “Let me go. I know everyone in the Island Guard, and besides, Olivia’s pregnant. If anything happened to her, I wouldn’t know how to explain it to my brother.” With that, she eagerly plunged into the storm drain, crawling through the damp, filthy pipes to the outside. We huddled in the shelter tunnels, praying in our hearts not to be discovered. But then, a sharp-eyed raider spotted the entrance to the tunnels. “There’s an iron door here! I bet the women are all hiding inside!” “I knew it! How could an island this big not have a single woman?!” “I’ve been adrift at sea for half a year, dreaming of women! This time, I’m going to have my fill!” The thought of the women hidden inside spurred the raiders to frantically smash against the iron door. Listening to the frantic, booming crashes against the door, the women’s faces went ashen. Their hearts pounded with terror, and they could only pray for the men to return quickly and save them. About half an hour later, Lily, my sister-in-law, crawled back up from the storm drain, covered in grime. Seeing her, everyone immediately cheered, believing she had brought the men back. But to their dismay, Lily only began to wipe away her tears, her face etched with distress. “I’m sorry… they wouldn’t come back with me.” My mother-in-law frantically pressed her, “Why wouldn’t they come back? Their wives and children are in here!” At this, Lily’s tears flowed even faster. She bit her lip. “My brother said I was lying. He said there’s no way raiders would suddenly attack our fishing village… He even said Olivia and I conspired to trick him, and he slapped me.” Seeing the red mark on Lily’s face, everyone began to condemn Sienna as a manipulative vixen. They also cursed Miles for dereliction of duty, for abandoning everyone’s safety for the sake of one woman! Just then, a thunderous boom echoed! The raiders had begun using explosives! The iron door to the shelter tunnel could hold for another hour at most. I comforted the women, telling them that the nearest island, Stonewater Isle, was only twenty minutes away, and I could go there for reinforcements. My mother-in-law clutched my arm, her calloused hand slick with cold sweat. “Olivia, the safety of all the women and children rests on you. You must bring back help!” I nodded, then, pushing past the nauseating stench, I crawled through the storm drain, my pregnant belly cumbersome, until I reached the surface. I mounted a spare jet ski and sped towards the nearest island, Stonewater Isle. When my jet ski hit the beach of Stonewater Isle, I found several armed men already waiting. Recognizing them, my eyes widened. It was Deputy Commander Ethan Reed of our Island Guard. Hadn’t he gone out to sea with Miles? Why was he here? I couldn’t dwell on it. I stumbled towards him, just as I was about to inform him about the raiders’ attack. He suddenly grabbed my arm, yanking me from the jet ski, his gaze filled with utter disgust. “Olivia Vance, how can there be a woman as repulsive as you in this world?!” I stared at him, bewildered, unable to comprehend his meaning. “The Captain specifically ordered me to wait for you here. He said that to stir up jealousy, you’d conspire with Lily to spread rumors on other islands about a raider attack on our village, all to sabotage Sienna’s birthday celebration.” Listening to Ethan, I began to tremble with rage. Miles’ heart was utterly ruthless! To prevent me from reaching him, he had sent men to block the very path I would take to get reinforcements! I urgently told Ethan that the marauders had already begun their assault on Havenport. I wasn’t here to spread rumors; I was here for help! If reinforcements weren’t found within the hour to repel the raiders, everyone would be lost! Perhaps seeing my unyielding expression, a flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. After all, his wife, child, and mother were all still on the island. Just as Ethan was about to contact Miles on his comms, a team member leaned in and whispered, “If there really was a raider attack, how could the Captain not know?” His face held a nearly devout trust in Miles. Miles had served in the military, possessing an exceptional tactical instinct and organizational skills. He had led the islanders in repelling dozens of raider assaults. After less than a second of silence, Ethan burst into loud laughter. “Olivia, you truly are an actress. You almost had me believing you.” “I know the Captain better than anyone. He’s so responsible, the leader of the Island Guard. How could he possibly lack this level of vigilance?” His mockery twisted my heart into a bitter knot, tears stinging my eyes. Every wasted moment meant more danger for the women. Ignoring everything, I tried to rush back towards the island. But in the next second, Ethan moved faster, pressing me down. He then produced rope and bound me tightly. “As long as I’m here, you’re not going anywhere today.” Ethan’s face was grim. After ensuring I was securely tied, he tossed me directly into a speedboat. As the boat sliced through the waves, I watched Stonewater Isle, so close yet growing smaller with every passing moment, and I closed my eyes in despair.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393829”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“The day the Blackwoods came, I discovered my husband of six years was actually the lost heir to a New York dynasty—an amnesiac prince. Upon reclaiming his throne, his first act was discarding me. Damian Blackwood stood on his marble steps, icy gaze dismissing me. His “”amnesia”” had returned, erasing all memory of me. Now engaged to Seraphina Winter—his social equal—he declared me a nobody. His mother, Eleanor, threw a $10M check at my feet, demanding I vanish. In my past life, I’d been a fool, clinging to hope he’d remember me—and our son. But I was just an obstacle. He locked me in an asylum, where Bruno, my own child, betrayed me. Reborn, I took the check. “”I’ll leave in three days,”” I told Eleanor. “”Just book my flight.”” This time, I’d live for myself. 1 At my words, Eleanor’s lip curled in disgust. “You clung to him for a month after his memory lapsed. I almost thought you genuinely cared for him.” Her eyes narrowed. “Turns out it was all just an act. A grimy little gold-digger, through and through.” Everyone who knew us knew I loved Damian to the point of self-destruction. Even after he’d forgotten me, I’d stayed, clinging to the hope of a future. But in my last life, I learned the truth just before I died. Both times Damian lost his memory, it was a lie. The first time, he used me to survive. The second, he used it to discard me so he could be with his childhood sweetheart, Seraphina. When I became an inconvenience, he had me committed and killed. I offered no explanation. I just looked his mother in the eye. “”I’ll be gone in three days. There’s no need to tell Damian.”” He had once told me I was a stain on his life. A stain that should be erased without a sound. Eleanor snorted, warning me to vanish on schedule. With the deal struck, I went to my room and opened my laptop, pulling up the application portal for UCL in London. I’d been accepted years ago but had to drop out. After finding Damian, I’d moved back to my small town and opened a diner to support him, our son, and our life together. He was the “amnesiac,” so the entire burden—financial and emotional—fell on my shoulders. I worked twenty-hour days, a ghost in my own life. When we were brought to the Blackwood mansion, he’d recoiled from the faint smell of cooking oil that clung to my clothes. He had thirty air purifiers installed. “”You small-town girls,”” he’d sneered in front of his family, “”even the air around you is dirty.”” He forbade me from eating at the same table, banishing me to the kitchen like a servant. This time, I would never again sacrifice my life for anyone. 2 I’d just booked my flight to London when Damian came home. He stumbled in, reeking of whiskey from some high-society gala. When I didn’t immediately rush to his side with a glass of water and a worried expression, his face darkened with anger. “”Rachel! Where the hell are you? Are you just going to let me stand here?”” It was the tone one used with a maid. He wasn’t alone. Draped on his arm was Seraphina Winter. Trailing behind them, clutching her hand, was our son, Bruno. I was supposed to have been his date tonight. In my last life, I had confronted him, my eyes red from crying. He’d just laughed, a cold, cruel sound. “”Rachel, look at you,”” he’d said. “”Everyone else brings a partner. You expect me to bring the help? Don’t embarrass me. You are the mother of my child, nothing more. Know your place.”” So this time, I ignored them, closing my laptop to head back to my room. But Damian’s eyes caught the screen full of English text. He stepped in front of me, a flicker of something—hesitation? confusion?—in his eyes. “”What are you looking at? You think a country bumpkin like you can actually read that?”” I didn’t have the energy to engage with his taunts. I tried to sidestep him. But Seraphina blocked my path, her smile as sweet as poison. “”Oh, Rachel, darling. I had to fend off so many people for Damian tonight. My head is just spinning. I’m dying for a slice of mango mille-feuille. Would you be a dear and make one for me?”” In my last life, when Damian had me chained to a bed in that hospital, Seraphina came to “”visit.”” She’d ground the heel of her stiletto into the back of my hand, twisting it until the skin broke and bled. She’d watched me scream, helpless and bound, and then she’d taken a scalpel and carved the word ‘TRASH’ into my arm, her laughter echoing in the sterile room. When Damian found the wound later, he’d merely commented that her taste was impeccable. A perfect description, he’d said. Now, my eyes fixed on the ring on her finger—a perfect match to Damian’s. A piece of my heart, a shard I didn’t even know was left, shattered. “”I’m allergic to mangoes,”” I said, my voice flat. “”Order it yourself.”” Damian’s patience snapped. “”Don’t be difficult, Rachel!”” He grabbed my arm, his grip like steel, and shoved me. I stumbled backward, my head cracking against the edge of a console table. Pain exploded behind my eyes. “”Seraphina asked you to do something, so you do it! She is the future Mrs. Blackwood! Have you forgotten you’re living on our charity? You should be grateful we even let a parasite like you stay here as a maid!”” My head swam, but the ache in my heart was sharper. Back in our small town, for my birthday one year, he’d bought me a mango cake, forgetting my allergy. I’d broken out in hives, my throat closing up. He had carried me in his arms, running for two hours to the nearest clinic, his face a mask of terror. Afterward, he’d sworn he would never let another mango near me. If he did, he’d joked, he should be punished by never being allowed to marry me. He was faking his amnesia now, but his vow had come true in the cruelest way. The music had stopped, and our story was over. His heart was full of Seraphina, and the six years of love we’d shared had evaporated into nothing. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my calf. I looked down. It was Bruno. He was holding a fork, jabbing it into my leg, over and over. “”You’re a bad woman! You bullied my new mommy!”” Beads of blood welled up, tracing red lines down my skin. Seeing my blood only seemed to excite him, and he dug the fork in deeper. “”I’m punishing you, you bad, bad woman!”” Seraphina let out a delighted little laugh, praising Bruno for being her “”brave, loyal little knight.”” Damian watched, a faint, cruel smile playing on his lips as he observed my pain. I had always held onto a fragile, desperate love for my son. Now, as he twisted that fork, that last piece of my heart disintegrated. This was the child I had brought into the world in a tiny clinic, without an epidural, after nine hours of agonizing labor. The same child who, in another life, would kill me because he was ashamed of my origins. Now, he was hurting me for a woman who was practically a stranger. When they had finally vented their frustrations, the three of them went into the master bedroom together. A happy family. I was left alone in the vast, cold living room, an outsider. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I limped to the bathroom, cleaned and bandaged my leg, and began to pack. There wasn’t much to take. Just some clothes. That was the sum of my six years with Damian Blackwood. 3 Two days before my flight, I went to the bank to exchange currency for my new life in London. As I stepped out, a person in a fluffy mascot costume—a promotion for the mall—blocked my way. The oversized head came off, revealing a familiar, friendly face. “”Rachel? It’s Mark! From back home. I haven’t seen you in forever! When are you coming back for a visit?”” I was an orphan. Damian and Bruno had been the only family I’d ever known. I’d given up everything for them, and it had all been a terrible mistake. Mark’s simple, honest concern was almost too much to bear. I forced a smile. “”I’m not going back, Mark.”” He grinned. “”I always thought I had a shot with you, you know. Then you found that Damian guy six years ago. But hey, it all worked out. You married into a good family. I’m happy for you. Come on, let me buy you lunch.”” He made a hundred bucks a day wearing that stupid costume, but he insisted on taking me to a restaurant where a single meal cost five hundred. He said we didn’t know when we’d see each other again. I couldn’t refuse his kindness. The restaurant was next to the most luxurious bridal salon in New York. Damian had once promised me a fairy-tale wedding, a dress made just for me. It was another promise that had dissolved into thin air. I glanced through the window and froze. There they were. Damian and Seraphina, trying on wedding attire. And Bruno was with them, beaming. Damian saw me at the same moment. His face contorted with rage. He stormed out of the shop and, without a word, punched Mark squarely in the jaw. He spun on me, his voice dripping with venom. “”Rachel, are you that desperate? Scrabbling around in the gutter for trash like this? Then again,”” he sneered, “”I guess a poor girl from the sticks can only attract a loser like him.”” “”Damian, are you insane?!”” I scrambled to help Mark up, putting myself between them. Mark looked utterly bewildered, unable to comprehend that this was the same man who had once loved me so fiercely. A raw, burning anger rose in my throat. I stared at Damian and Seraphina, a perfect couple in their wedding finery. “”And what are you two doing?”” I spat. “”Playing house? Getting married? Should I send a wedding gift?”” He looked stunned for a second, shocked that I’d dared to talk back. Then his expression hardened into self-righteous fury. “”This is your fault! You’re an embarrassment! Bruno wanted to see his mother looking beautiful and elegant for once. Seraphina was just doing this for him, to make him happy! Don’t you dare project your own filthy, cheating mind onto everyone else!”” Bruno, clutching Seraphina’s pristine white dress, nodded eagerly. “”You’re ugly! You’re not my mom! I want Seraphina to be my mom! Why don’t you just get out of our lives?!”” Seraphina smirked, a look of pure triumph on her face. “”Rachel, darling, a woman has to accept when she’s past her prime. You really should consider some work. It does wonders.”” My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms so hard I should have felt pain, but I felt nothing but a cold, spreading numbness. “”Damian,”” I said, my voice dangerously low. “”Who the hell do you think you are? You’re the father of my son. That’s it. You have no right to control my life. You three can play your sick little family game all you want. Just keep it out of my sight.”” I turned to Seraphina. “”And you. If you enjoy picking up my leftovers, be my guest.”” With that, I helped Mark to his feet and walked away, not looking back. Behind me, I could hear Damian’s furious shouts and Seraphina’s fake, soothing reassurances fading into the city noise. “”Rachel,”” Mark murmured, “”don’t listen to them. You’re the best person I know.”” Back in our small town, everyone thought so. Even as an orphan, I’d had countless people trying to set me up. But with Damian, I was less than nothing. An object of disgust. Not anymore. I would never give him the power to hurt me again. 4 After taking Mark to an urgent care clinic, I went home. To my surprise, Damian was sitting on the sofa, waiting for me. He was holding a wedding dress. When he saw me, the hard lines of his face softened. He stood and held the dress out to me. “”I was out of line today,”” he said, his voice gentle. “”I’m sorry. I picked this out for you. We can take a family portrait with Bruno. We’ll hang it right there.”” He pointed to the main wall in the living room, a grand gesture, as if he truly saw me as the future lady of this house. But I recognized the dress instantly. It was the one Seraphina had been wearing earlier. The one she’d rejected. He was giving me her cast-offs. In his mind, that’s all I was worth. A small-town girl who could be placated with secondhand goods. I didn’t call him out. “”When?”” I asked, feigning interest as I ran my fingers over the lace. He thought I was pleased. “”Tomorrow.”” The day before my flight. I smiled faintly and nodded. A final memory with the two people I was about to excise from my life forever. After this, we would be strangers. 5 The photo shoot was a rare moment of peace. Even Bruno, who usually looked at me with open contempt, seemed different. As I emerged from makeup, he grunted, “”You don’t look as pretty as a princess like Seraphina, but… you look okay, I guess.”” Damian nudged him gently and pulled him into his arms for a photo with me. In my last life, a crumb of affection like that would have made me giddy for days. Now, I felt nothing. A complete, placid emptiness. Once I’d made the decision to cut them out of my heart, they lost the power to affect me. The photographer positioned us, his finger hovering over the shutter button. Suddenly, Damian’s phone shrieked. It was the special ringtone he’d set for Seraphina. “”Stop!”” he barked at the photographer, snatching the phone up. A frantic, female voice burst from the speaker. “”Damian, help me! There are these guys… they’re harassing me! There are three of them, I’m so scared… please, you have to come!”” The color drained from Damian’s face. “”Seraphina, don’t be afraid! I’m on my way!”” Without a word of explanation to me, he bolted from the studio. Bruno, recognizing her voice, started yelling, “”I have to go protect my new mommy!”” And just like that, father and son were gone. The photographer looked at me, his expression a mixture of pity and embarrassment. “”Miss… Reed? Should we… wait for them to come back?”” The fragile bubble of happiness from moments before burst, leaving only the bitter taste of ashes in my mouth. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. I returned the secondhand wedding dress. It wasn’t my style anyway. The supporting characters had left the stage. It was time for the star to have her moment. I chose a sleek, powerful pantsuit, the kind a CEO might wear, and asked the photographer for a set of professional headshots. A new portrait for a new life. Later that evening, my phone buzzed. It was a social media notification. Seraphina had posted a picture. There was Bruno, curled up in her arms, looking up at her and saying “”Mommy,”” his face alight with adoration. And there, standing beside them, his arm protectively around her, was Damian. The “”harassment at the bar”” had been a game of Truth or Dare. Seraphina had drawn a dare: call the most important person on your contact list and have them “”rescue”” you. And Damian had dropped everything and run to her side. It was fitting. It was the last day I would ever be a part of his world. 6 Damian came home late, the scent of Seraphina’s perfume clinging to his clothes. Bruno was already asleep on the sofa. He saw me and his tone was uncharacteristically soft. “”Seraphina ran into a little trouble at the bar. I had to go sort it out. It was nothing.”” I nodded, pretending to believe him. His lies were clumsy, but then, I wasn’t worth the effort of a good one. “”Go give Bruno a bath,”” he said, his tone casual, entitled. “”He’s exhausted.”” I walked silently to the sofa and gently lifted our son into my arms. I started to unbutton his shirt, but his eyes fluttered open. Seeing my face, he scowled and shoved my hands away. “”Get away from me! I want Seraphina!”” I froze. Before I could react, he kicked out, his heel connecting squarely with my bandaged leg, right on top of the fork wounds from the other day. A bolt of agony shot up my leg, and my knees buckled. “”Get off me! You’re disgusting!”” he shrieked, his voice filled with a venom that was terrifying in a child so young. The commotion brought Damian over. “”Bruno,”” he said, his voice holding a mild, unconvincing note of reprimand. “”That’s no way to talk to your mother.”” “”She’s not my mother!”” Bruno screamed, his face red and tear-streaked. “”Seraphina is my mother!”” I stumbled back, cradling my throbbing leg. Damian walked right past me, not even a glance in my direction, as if I were a piece of furniture. He sighed with theatrical weariness, then pulled out his phone and facetimed Seraphina. It was a familiar, practiced motion. Even his “”frustration”” with his son felt like a performance for my benefit. “”Seraphina, Bruno’s missing you. Can you talk to him for a minute?”” His voice was impossibly tender, the voice a man uses for the woman he truly loves. Her smiling face appeared on the screen. “”Bruno, sweetie, what’s wrong? Do you miss me?”” Bruno scrambled to the phone, his face a mask of misery, as if my touch had been a violation. “”Seraphina, I miss you! I won a prize at school today and I’m saving it for you! When are you coming over?”” “”I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay, sweetie?”” she cooed. “”You be a good boy.”” He nodded vigorously, a bright smile finally breaking through his tears. And me? I got cold silence, or scorn, or violence. The last flicker of warmth in my heart guttered and died. I turned, walked into my room, and shut the door, blocking out the sound of their happy chatter. I took out my phone and double-checked the details for my flight, the car service, the flat waiting for me in London. Everything was arranged. Later that night, in bed, Damian pulled me into his arms, his hold surprisingly tight, almost desperate. “”Bruno’s just a kid,”” he murmured into my hair. “”He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Don’t be mad.”” I lay rigid in his embrace, the feeling of his skin against mine making my own crawl. I closed my eyes and feigned sleep. Listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, I silently counted down the hours. Tomorrow. Tomorrow it would all be over. ” ”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393847”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My nephew was diagnosed with leukemia, and my daughter was the only one in the family who could save him. To save the only male heir, the only one to carry on their precious family name, my in-laws forced my frail daughter to donate her bone marrow. In the end, my brother-in-law’s son lived. My daughter died on the operating table. Lost in a haze of grief, I clutched her cold, lifeless body and threw myself from the 18th floor. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Three days before my nephew’s diagnosis was even known. … In my first life, when my nephew, Ted, was diagnosed with leukemia, my daughter, Amy, was the only match. But Amy had been sickly since birth. The doctors explicitly advised against the donation. To protect the family’s “golden boy,” they all insisted. They drugged me, knocked me unconscious, and dragged my little girl to the operating room. When I came to, the whole family was celebrating. Ted’s transplant was a success. And my Amy… my Amy was lying in the room next door, her small body still and cold. My father- and mother-in-law looked at me with faces full of false sympathy. “Don’t blame us, Lily,” my mother-in-law had said, her voice cloying. “If it had been Amy with leukemia, we would have made Ted donate for her, of course.” “She just wasn’t strong enough to survive,” my father-in-law added with a sigh. “It was her fate. She was just unlucky.” I was drowning in a sea of rage and despair, screaming for justice for my daughter. But they all pointed their fingers at me, calling me hysterical, irrational. Even my husband, Mark, stood by silently, his face a mask of indifference. Utterly broken, I carried Amy’s body to the highest floor and leaped. I never expected to open my eyes again. But here I am, three days before it all began. “Mommy? Why are you crying?” A small voice pulled me back to reality. “Was it because I kicked off the blankets last night? Are you mad at me?” I turned, my vision blurred with tears. My daughter, Amy, fresh from her nap, was looking up at me with wide, worried eyes. She was only seven, but her gaze held a wisdom that broke my heart. A fresh wave of grief and love washed over me. I pulled her into a fierce embrace, burying my face in her soft hair. This time, Mommy won’t let anyone hurt you. I swear it. I packed a bag, and the first thing I did was drive Amy to my mother’s house. Later that afternoon, when I knew Mark would be off work, I called him. “Mark,” I began, my voice thick with feigned anguish. “I took Amy for a check-up today… The doctor said… he said she has leukemia.” I let a sob escape my lips. Last time, you all said you’d make Ted donate if Amy were the sick one, didn’t you? Let’s see how you react to the news now. After hanging up, I drove home alone. When I walked in, my in-laws were fawning over Ted, the picture of domestic bliss. My arrival shattered the cozy atmosphere. The smiles vanished from their faces, replaced by annoyance. Before I could even step fully inside, my mother-in-law rushed forward. “Mark already told us about Amy,” she said, her tone sharp and devoid of any sympathy. “We heard that even if you treat this disease, she’ll be on medication for life. So, we’ve discussed it, and we’ve decided… it’s better not to treat it.” “Besides,” my father-in-law chimed in, not even looking at me, “you know our financial situation. We just enrolled Ted in that expensive advanced STEM camp. There’s simply no extra money for Amy’s medical bills.” “If you insist on treating her,” my mother-in-law finished, “you’ll have to get the money from your own family.” One by one, they all nodded in agreement, sighing about Amy’s terrible luck, her unfortunate fate. 2 Their callousness didn’t surprise me. I kept up my act, my voice trembling with a desperate plea. “Mom, Dad… my family will cover the costs. But the doctor said she needs a bone marrow transplant. The success rate is highest with a close relative. I came back to ask if Ted… if he could just get tested to see if he’s a match.” The air in the living room went still. “Are you trying to ruin your nephew?” my father-in-law slammed his hand on the table, his voice a low growl. “Ted is our precious grandson! I will not allow anyone or anything to harm him!” “That’s right!” my mother-in-law shrieked, as if I’d suggested feeding her grandson to snakes. She threw a dish on the floor, where it shattered. “Ted is your nephew! How can you be so heartless?” The hypocrisy was so thick I could taste it. When their grandson gets sick, they’re willing to sacrifice their granddaughter. But when their granddaughter is the one dying, they won’t even spare a dime. I let my shoulders slump in pretend defeat. “But Mom, Dad… Amy is your granddaughter too. Can you really just stand by and watch her die?” Seeing my agitation, Mark pulled me aside. “They’re right, Lily,” he whispered, refusing to meet my eyes. “It’s not our fault she’s sick. If… if she doesn’t make it, we can always have another kid. Maybe a boy next time.” Even though I thought I was prepared for anything, hearing those words from her own father felt like a physical blow. “Fine,” I said, my voice flat and cold. “I understand.” “You won’t save her. So I will.” I turned and walked out, leaving them all standing there in stunned silence. What they didn’t know was that my phone had been in my pocket the entire time, its microphone recording every last, venomous word. The next morning, I was woken by a flood of notifications on my phone. My father-in-law had pinned a message in every single family group chat. 【Effective immediately, Lily and Amy are no longer part of this family. Their lives, and their deaths, have nothing to do with us. This notice is final.】 Every group had 99+ new messages. I opened one and saw the conversation. He’d written: 【Amy has leukemia. It’s bad enough she’s going to die, but now her mother is trying to guilt-trip her cousin into donating his bone marrow.】 Immediately, a few relatives jumped in to my defense. 【Donating marrow isn’t that big a deal, is it? You can’t just let Amy die.】 【I don’t think Lily is trying to guilt-trip anyone. She’s just a mother trying to save her child.】 【Poor Amy. To get such a terrible disease at her age… what awful luck.】 Seeing the conversation shift toward sympathy for Amy, my father-in-law quickly typed again. 【I’m just warning everyone. Donating marrow is risky. It can permanently damage your health.】 He followed up with: 【If she comes asking any of you for a donation, it’s on you. We have nothing to do with it.】 The relatives who had just been expressing their sympathy went silent. No one wanted that kind of risk falling on their own family. I looked at the chat log and smiled. It was like they were handing me the ammunition themselves. I was just wondering how to expose their ugliness to the world, and here they were, doing the work for me. I typed a quick reply into the group. 【But Amy is part of this family, isn’t she? Dad, Mom… I can understand if you don’t want to help, but why are you stopping others from helping? It’s like you want her to die.】 A moment later, my sister-in-law, Ted’s mother, replied. 【It’s human nature to avoid risk. Everyone has their own family and career to think about. An injury could be a disaster for a household.】 3 【If it were my Ted who had leukemia, I would rather give up on treatment than burden the rest of the family.】 【True family doesn’t burden each other.】 The chat was flooded with praise for her, calling her noble and selfless. I had to laugh at her grandstanding. I wondered if she’d feel so selfless tomorrow, when she received her own son’s diagnosis. Ignoring the barrage of insults that followed, I closed the app and saved the entire chat history. Back in the Harrisons’ living room, my father-in-law decided that simply kicking me out wasn’t enough. “Mark, you should divorce her,” he said, his face grim. “A disease like that is a money pit. We can’t let one girl drag the entire family down into poverty.” My mother-in-law quickly agreed. “A divorce would be for the best. All these years, and she couldn’t even give you a son. Just one sickly, worthless girl who’s now dying of a terminal illness.” “You’ll be dragged down if you stay with a woman like that!” she insisted. “Once you’re free, Mom will find you a much better wife!” Mark just nodded. “You’re right. We can’t let one girl ruin our whole family. We have to get a divorce.” A moment later, my phone buzzed with a text from him. 【If you insist on trying to save Amy, then we’re done. Let’s get a divorce. Meet me at the courthouse tomorrow at 10 a.m. I’ll give up my parental rights. From now on, Amy is your problem, not mine.】 A wave of relief washed over me. I hadn’t expected them to move so quickly. “Amy, my love,” I whispered to the empty room. “No one can ever hurt you again.” I calmed my racing heart and replied with a single word. 【Okay.】 The next day, at ten in the morning, I was standing in front of the courthouse. The entire Harrison clan was already there, waiting. They stood in a tight, defensive cluster, as if they were afraid I’d change my mind and cling to them. My father-in-law shoved a divorce agreement into my hands. “Don’t think we’re being cruel,” he said, his face a mask of solemn duty. “No one in their right mind would choose to save her. It’s leukemia. If you won’t give up, then you can’t be part of this family.” His righteous act was so absurd I almost laughed out loud. Always so fake. But it didn’t matter anymore. The terms of the agreement were harsh. Not only was Mark giving up all custody of Amy, but they were also demanding she be stripped of the Harrison name. They wanted us cut off, erased from their lives, forever. As I read, Mark leaned in close, his voice a low hiss. “If you give up on Amy now, if you promise to give us a son, I’m willing to give you one last chance to change your mind.” I resisted the urge to slap him again. Without a moment’s hesitation, I uncapped the pen and signed my name. A few minutes later, Mark and I walked out of the courthouse with our divorce certificate. The Harrisons huddled together, their faces beaming with relief, celebrating as if they’d just won the lottery. “We’re finally free of that jinx!” “Yes! And that sickly Amy is gone, too. I was afraid to even let Ted get near her. What if he caught it?” “A sick kid, and a girl at that. What was the point of treating her anyway?” They were all breathing a collective sigh of relief, savoring their freedom. But in the next second, a text message alert chimed on my former in-laws’ phones. I knew what it was. Ted’s diagnosis had arrived.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393865”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am the only daughter of the Blanchett family, raised since birth to be its heir. If the students of Northwood Academy are the elite of society, then I am the apex of that pyramid. Before the school started admitting scholarship students, there was a delicate balance. No discrimination, no mockery—just pure, unadulterated ambition in everyone’s eyes. Until the first scholarship girl arrived. And just like that, I knew the plot had begun to turn. You see, I was reborn into this world. In the original story, my character was the villainess. The heroine was the new scholarship student, a resilient little flower who endured a year of torment from the villainess’s friends without ever breaking. The funny thing is, the villainess never directly participated. Yet the heroine blamed her for everything, convinced that without the villainess’s tacit approval, no one would have dared to touch her. Later, the villainess’s parents died in a car crash. Spurred on by the heroine’s “encouragement,” the villainess’s brother schemed to usurp the family inheritance. Her supposed friends, moved by the heroine’s “unbreakable spirit,” all turned against her. Ultimately, the villainess was cast out by her family and died a miserable death on the streets. 1 It was the kind of cliché, tropey story that was so full of melodrama it made you sick. And if you ask me, the original villainess was far too kind. I strode into the classroom, arms crossed. The air was buzzing with chatter about the new scholarship student. I kicked a desk, hard, and the noise died instantly. If we’re talking about being a villain, I’m a hell of a lot better at it than she ever was. I scanned the room, my irritation simmering, and dropped into my seat. I never liked school to begin with. I’d finally graduated, only to die on my way to work when a rogue plastic bag flew into my face, blinding me just long enough to get into a fatal car accident. Then I was reborn, only to end up as a villainess in a cheap novel. The one silver lining was that fate had finally answered my prayers: this time, I was rich. So, as a sort of repayment, I would protect everything the original villainess had lost. I would save her parents from that car crash. With that thought, I let out a heavy sigh. The boy behind me tapped my shoulder. “Aria, the new girl is coming soon. Should we give her a proper Northwood welcome?” I was already in a foul mood. The thought of someone stirring up trouble for me, for no reason, made me whip my head around to glare at Mason. He and the original Aria were childhood friends. In the story, he was the first to betray her. A dog that can’t be tamed. The most disgusting kind. The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I got. I clicked my tongue in annoyance. “If you mess with her, you can get the hell out of Northwood.” The classroom was silent. Everyone heard me. Mason stared for a second, then gave a helpless shrug. “Whoa, what’s with you, princess? I was just asking. Didn’t want you to be unhappy.” I twisted the cap off a bottle of water on my desk and poured it over his head. “Keep your bright ideas to yourself. Don’t pin them on me.” Mason shot to his feet, roaring, “Aria! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane?” I crossed my legs, my eyes raking over him. “Do you have the right to yell at me? Are we that close?” I wasn’t the original Aria, that bleeding-heart who would help her friends unconditionally. In my eyes, they were worse than dogs. For years, the Thorne family had been mired in internal conflict. Though Mason and I grew up together, I never once lifted a finger to help him. Compared to his two older brothers, Mason was painfully incompetent and on the verge of being disowned. About a year ago, it must have dawned on him that if I put in a good word, the position of head of the Thorne family would be his. But why should I help him? Still, I did need a dog. I could string Mason along with a few scraps, and he’d do anything for me. But now, the heroine was here. It was time to defuse this ticking time bomb before it blew up in my face. 2 I stood up and grabbed him by the collar. “Who the hell do you think you are, screaming at me? From now on, stay out of my sight. You’re an eyesore.” Mason’s face froze, then he quickly stammered, “Aria, I was just joking.” I stared at him, my voice flat. “I wasn’t. Get lost.” Stanley, sitting nearby, had been enjoying the show. Realizing I was serious, he tugged at my arm. “Princess, come on. Mason didn’t mean it.” I smirked and slapped him across the face with my left hand. “Then you can get lost with him.” Stanley touched his cheek in disbelief. “You hit me?” I met his gaze, and my right hand followed, striking his other cheek. “And? What are you going to do about it?” Seeing him just stand there like a statue, clutching his face, I rolled my eyes and walked out of the classroom. “When I get back, I don’t want to see either of you.” Did Stanley really think he was any better than Mason? They were both pathetic. One took everything Aria gave him, then led the charge to isolate her. The other had a lifelong crush on her, but let the heroine’s whispers turn him against her, even handing her over to a pervert. If it weren’t for Stanley, the original Aria might not have died on the streets. If I wasn’t worried about derailing the plot too soon, I would have dealt with them long ago. The fresh air improved my mood considerably. Before I could even make it down the stairs, a girl’s voice called out from behind me. “Excuse me, could you tell me where Class A is?” I turned to face her. One look was all it took. This was the heroine, Stella Chad. Stella clenched her fists, a smile plastered on her face as she asked again. “Hi, I’m a new transfer student, so I’m a little lost. Your pin says Class A. Could you show me the way?” I couldn’t be bothered. I looked away. A frown creased Stella’s brow, and her eyes flashed with anger. “Hey! Did you hear me? We’re both students here. You can’t just bully me because I’m new, can you? Getting into this school means I’m on the same level as you. Can’t you help with something so simple?” I had to laugh. “If you’re blind, go see a doctor. You just threw a massive accusation at me without a second thought. What, are you right just because you’re poor?” Stella’s eyes widened in fury. She stormed over and grabbed my uniform. “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with being poor? I got into Northwood on my own merit. How dare you, who rely on your parents for everything, say that to me?” 3 I glanced down at her hand, my voice dripping with disdain. “I was just going to tell you to get lost. But now, I’m not letting you go.” I looked at her still-dry hair, grabbed a handful, and yanked. Stella screamed, trying to break free. I let go, then immediately kicked her to the ground. The commotion brought everyone from the classroom rushing out. Stella was on her knees, looking pathetic, but her mouth was as sharp as ever. “Don’t think you’re so great just because you have money! Without your parents, you’re nothing! I earned my place here with my grades! I’m going to the principal! You just wait!” Mason, despite the humiliation I’d just put him through, had benefited greatly from being my dog this past year. Hearing someone talk to me like that, he kicked Stella, sending her sprawling. Her head hit the wall, and blood started to trickle down. Stanley, seeing this, quickly stepped in to stop Mason from doing anything further. I didn’t even bother giving them a second glance. I went straight to the headmaster’s office. “Old man! Move Mason Thorne and Stanley Armitage to Class D.” Headmaster Phillips sighed, looking weary. “My dear girl, what did they do to upset you this time?” I collapsed onto the sofa and picked at my nails. “They’re disgusting to look at.” I was always polite with Headmaster Phillips. First, he was my father’s good friend. Second, he always indulged me. He’d never refused any of my requests. He nodded, indicating he understood. Satisfied, I grabbed a bottle of water, took a sip, and put it back. “Aria, the common folk have a right to climb the ladder too, don’t you think?” I looked at him, my expression unreadable. Was this old fool trying to lecture me? I smiled and pulled out my phone to make the choice for him. “Stella Chad is Northwood’s first scholarship student, and she will be its last. Old man, you know I’m already giving you face by not doing more.” Headmaster Phillips eyed me, then quietly opened a drawer by his leg. I rolled my eyes and walked out. Hearing the sound of him using his personal oxygen tank, I scoffed. Climb the ladder? With what? Grades? Thinking of Stella, I leaned against the wall, my gaze turning cold. After a moment, I went back in and grabbed the half-finished bottle of water. “Aria, dear, remember to close the door on your way out.” I chuckled. I didn’t listen. Close the door for him? Who did he think he was? Water bottle in hand, I sauntered to the nurse’s office. Stella was lying on a cot. When she saw me, her eyes burned with hatred. “What are you doing here? If it’s to apologize, don’t bother. I don’t accept!” 4 Seeing the look in her eyes, I couldn’t help but laugh. The school nurse, sitting beside her, trembled and scooted his chair away. Stella seemed to realize I wasn’t there to apologize, and her expression hardened with anger. “Hey! Do you really think you’re all that? Let me tell you, I’m injured. You’re going to have to pay for my medical bills and for emotional distress. If you don’t, I’ll sue you!” Before I could even speak, the nurse couldn’t take the pressure anymore. He scurried over to me and whispered, “Miss Blanchett, I have a few small things to attend to, could I possibly…” I nodded. He fled without a backward glance. As the door clicked shut, I twisted the cap off the bottle and poured the remaining water over Stella’s head. “I don’t think I’m all that. I am.” Stella shrieked, trying to fight back, but even uninjured she was no match for me, let alone now. I slapped her hard across the face. “Stella Chad, you’ve made an enemy of me at Northwood. You’re in for a world of pain. But I’ll give you one chance. Kneel, apologize, and get the hell out of this school.” Stella’s face was a mask of disbelief. She glared at me, her teeth gritted. “You think I’ll surrender? I’m telling you, it’s impossible! Go ahead, kill me if you have the guts! You think you’re an empress? The students at Northwood are all from noble families. They’ve had a proper upbringing. They won’t just stand by and watch you bully me!” All things considered, I genuinely believed Stella had a future in comedy. How else could she make me want to laugh every time she opened her mouth? A proper upbringing? Did she mean being taught how to backstab your siblings to come out on top? I clicked my tongue. I didn’t slap her again. Instead, I patted her cheek lightly. “Stella, my dear, I truly look forward to our next meeting. I hope you’ll have a noble knight by your side to protect you then. Promise me, okay?” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. If someone was actually willing to stand up to me for Stella, I would have to admire their courage. An egg trying to smash a rock. The thought was exhilarating. School was already a bore. If someone was going to offer up their face for me to slap, I certainly wouldn’t refuse. 5 Stella’s hands were trembling with rage. “Do you dare tell me your name? I will not let you get away with this!” I covered my mouth, feigning fear. “Really? You promise you won’t let me go? My name is Aria Blanchett. I hope you’ll remember it. Maybe get it tattooed.” Stella spat at me in disgust. “You pretentious bitch! Without your parents, you wouldn’t even be able to get into Northwood! I got in with my own two hands, with my grades! When we graduate, I will grind you into the dirt!” My eyes darkened. Disgusted, I took off my soiled jacket and threw it on the floor. “Fine. I’ll be waiting.” Seeing her disdainful expression, I looked away and left. Boring. It was always the same line. Her own two hands? Her grades? Let’s see how those “grades” of hers hold up at Northwood. At Northwood, exams determined class rankings. Students in lower-ranked classes fought tooth and nail to get into Class A. The only reason Stella was placed in Class A right away was because it was the only class with an empty seat. And as luck would have it, the placement exams were tomorrow. Her precious grades wouldn’t mean a thing here. The next day, I arrived at the classroom just as the bell rang. The teacher, seeing me take my seat, began to hand out the exam papers. Mason and Stanley were gone. I twirled my pen, my gaze falling on Stella. “Good luck, everyone. I hope to see you all in Class A again.” Stella was fired up. The moment she got the paper, she started poring over it. I rested my chin on my hand and watched her for a while. She chewed on her pen, then on her nails. I raised an eyebrow and glanced at my own blank paper. With two seconds left on the clock, I finally wrote my name on the sheet. Stella had been watching me throughout the exam, so she knew I hadn’t written a single word. She shot to her feet, pointing at me righteously. “Teacher, Aria Blanchett didn’t write anything! Isn’t that a form of deliberate provocation? Even if her family is rich, she should still have a proper attitude towards school exams! I demand that you punish her severely.” The entire class turned to look at her. Stella lifted her chin. “Being rich doesn’t give you the right to disrespect school rules! She’s a terrible example for other students. The school should issue a strict reprimand to curb this kind of behavior!” She expected her righteous speech to be met with approval. Instead, she was met with laughter. “Who let this charity case in?” “Is she declaring war on Miss Blanchett? Does she even have the right?” “Everyone knows the rules at Northwood. Aria Blanchett is the rules.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393883”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am Adrian Sterling’s most treasured little snake. As I was lounging contentedly on his chiseled abs, a series of pop-up comments suddenly materialized before my eyes: 【The main couple is finally going to meet! Go, brooding Adrian, love her fiercely!】 【Here it is, here it is! The heroine gets scared by the hero’s snake, and it’s love at first sight for him. He plays it cool and drops that classic line: ‘Is that all it takes to scare you?’】 【But it’s a shame about the little princess snake. In the end, to win back the heroine, the hero sends her to the fighting pits, where she gets eaten by the second male lead’s snake.】 This snake: ?! I looked up and saw the two of them staring at each other, just as the comments described. And so, this snake decided to run away from home. 1 No sooner had the text faded than the handbag in Sophia’s hands clattered to the floor. Her face was a mask of terror. Adrian scooped me off his stomach and placed me into my cold, sterile terrarium. He tossed in a baby mouse for good measure. Tying the belt of his silk robe, he drawled, “Is that all it takes to scare you?” “Your job is to raise the mice and feed the snake according to her requirements. If you can’t handle that, you can leave.” Sophia’s eyes reddened, a picture of pitiable beauty. “No, Mr. Sterling, I can do it. I can.” I’m scared! I can’t handle it! I’m just a lazy, spoiled little snake who does nothing but cause trouble. For dinner, I only eat live, mini-mice. For snacks, I only eat the tiny worms from inside fresh fruit. I’m the kind of useless snake whose only real skill is coiling prettily around Adrian’s wrist. Sending me to a fighting pit is no different from sending me to my death. Didn’t he hire Sophia because I was being too picky with my food, and he was too busy to raise the mice himself? Why did he have to go and hire the Grim Reaper for me? Suddenly, the baby mouse didn’t look so appetizing anymore. “Fine,” Adrian said. “The specific feeding instructions are in the snake house. Just follow them. But every six days, you must bring me a live, five-gram baby mouse. It must be every six days, five grams, and alive. I feed her this one myself.” He pointed at me. “Yes, Mr. Sterling,” Sophia replied. And just like that, he agreed. I panicked, darting back and forth inside the glass box. Adrian glanced down and noticed I wasn’t eating. His voice softened with affection. “What’s wrong, not eating again, hm? Should I switch to the peach worms for you?” He reached in, his fingers stroking my scales. The thought that this same hand would one day send me to my doom filled me with rage. I struck, sinking my fangs into the back of his hand. Adrian just laughed. “What’s this? Trying to eat me now, are you? You ungrateful little thing, my dear Lyra.” He’s the one who’s ungrateful, ditching me for a pretty face! 2 Adrian still doted on me. For the entire week, aside from delivering my mice, Sophia barely crossed paths with him. I was starting to doubt the truth of the pop-up comments. But then, they hit me with a bombshell: 【It’s happening! The drama starts today. The hero is meeting the second male lead and runs into the heroine, who’s working part-time at a bar. The love triangle begins!】 What? How many jobs does this Sophia have? Before I could even process my complaint, Adrian had grabbed his car keys and was heading for the door. I thrashed around in my heated terrarium, desperate. He was just about to leave when he turned back. “Lyra, what’s wrong with you?” I slithered back and forth, flicking my tongue out frantically. “You want to go out with me?” He shook his head. “No, it’s too crowded, too dangerous for you.” I was not happy. I coiled into a dark, dramatic spiral. Adrian sighed. “You usually won’t even see strangers. Why are you so desperate to go out today? Don’t blame me if you get scared.” But he couldn’t resist my pleading. He opened the terrarium. Overjoyed, I wound myself around his wrist and gave him a little lick with my tongue. Adrian pouted. “This happy just to go out? You’re even willing to lick me now.” … The bar was packed. I shrank back, a little scared. Adrian chuckled. “Scaredy-snake. And you were the one who insisted on coming.” He dared to laugh at me! Indignant, I let out a few hisses and bit the back of his hand again. Adrian poked my head gently. “You little princess. The moment you’re unhappy, you bite me. Who else in the world would dare treat me like this, hm?” I didn’t care. I turned my head away haughtily. 3 “Adrian, is your hand okay?” John asked him. He’d met Adrian through the snake fighting circuit. He was supposed to be something of a friend, but now, he was probably my potential rival’s owner. He had brought a massive python with him. I got even more scared and hid myself inside Adrian’s collar. “It’s fine. Just a love bite from my little princess,” Adrian said, frowning at John. “Cover that thing up. You’re scaring her.” John draped a cloth over the python’s cage. “What made you bring your precious treasure out today?” “The treasure wanted to go out. What could I do?” John stared at me for a long moment. “She really is beautiful. No wonder you treasure her so much. How about we make her the stake for our next bet?” Adrian cursed at him. “Get lost.” Just as he said that, the comments appeared again: 【Here comes the classic scene! The heroine gets scared by the snake and drops the tray of drinks. The hero asks her bluntly, ‘Why are you working so many jobs?’】 【Then the second male lead feels sorry for the heroine and plays the hero, paying for the drinks for her.】 【And thus, the love triangle is complete.】 I turned my head towards the door. Sure enough, there was Sophia, holding a tray of drinks. The moment our eyes met, the glasses crashed to the floor. Oh no. It seemed the pop-up comments were real after all. My world went black, and I went limp. My whole body hung limply from Adrian’s wrist. He panicked, cupping me in his hands. “Lyra, what’s wrong? Lyra!” Without even glancing at the door, he snapped, “What is the meaning of this? If you can’t even carry a tray of drinks, what are you doing working here?” Sophia stood at the entrance to the private room, looking pitiful, tears welling in her eyes. No, I couldn’t let them interact. Thinking fast, I slithered over to John, trying to draw Adrian’s attention. 4 It worked. Adrian’s gaze was glued to me. I ducked into John’s jacket, poking my head out to hiss at Adrian twice. “This little one is quite lively,” John laughed. Adrian’s brow furrowed into a deep knot, his voice tinged with hurt. “Lyra, have you no conscience? Where do you think you’re going?” “Don’t call her Lyra Sterling anymore. Call her Lyra Stone,” John teased, scratching under my chin. I played along, rubbing my head against his palm. No one was paying any attention to Sophia at the door. I did it! Just kidding. Adrian, green with jealousy, snatched me back. “You little thing. So heartless.” After he said that, he still looked towards the doorway and delivered the line from the pop-up comments: “Why are you working so many jobs? If this affects your work at my snake house, you’re fired.” Sophia looked like she was about to cry. “It won’t, Mr. Sterling. I promise it won’t affect my work.” Seeing this, John immediately stepped in to mediate. “Hey, it’s no big deal. You can go. I’ll cover the cost of the drinks.” After Sophia left, he said cheekily, “Adrian, why don’t you hire me to take care of your snakes? I’m an expert. I guarantee I’ll keep little Lyra looking beautiful.” Adrian shot back, “Get as far away from me as possible.” It seemed there was no changing this plot at all! 5 So I decided to run away. That night, to keep Adrian from putting me back in my terrarium, I was incredibly clingy. Every time he put me down, I would crawl right back onto his hand, my tail wagging nonstop. He was completely exasperated. “Lyra, why are you so clingy today? I usually have to beg you to come out for a little while.” Helpless, Adrian took me to bed with him. He looked at me seriously. “You have to be good, you hear me? The terrarium is safer.” I flicked my tongue out, trying to look cute. That did it. Adrian was completely defeated. “Alright, alright, I get it. But if you feel uncomfortable, you have to wake me up, understand?” Adrian fell asleep quickly. By the moonlight, I began to survey the bedroom. The doors and windows were shut tight, very secure. The only possible escape route was the crack under the door. Goodbye, Adrian. You were really good to me, but I have to save my own skin first. I took one last look at him, then started slithering towards the door. I was halfway out when the door suddenly swung open. A firm grip seized the back of my neck, and I was lifted into the air. Adrian and I were face to face, his eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t understand. “I knew something was off with you being so clingy today. Turns out you were planning to run away, you little liar. I take you out just once, and now you can’t get enough of the outside world?” I flicked my tongue out guiltily. Adrian was unmoved. “Acting cute won’t work. Since you won’t listen, your punishment is to sleep back in the terrarium.” 6 Damn it. I had lost my snake-rights to free movement. Unless Adrian was watching me, I was to be locked in the terrarium. I protested by lying on my back, belly up, and not moving an inch. Adrian was busy cutting open peaches for me nearby. “Don’t be difficult. This is your punishment for being naughty, you understand?” Peach worms were hard to find. He had already gone through a whole pile of peaches without finding a single one. This was, in fact, because I was on a hunger strike. He felt so bad that he was trying to tempt me with my favorite treat. “There, now be good and eat.” He tossed a fresh little worm into my terrarium and went back to his task. My mouth watered. But a snake must have dignity. Adrian chuckled. “Alright, my little princess, I’m begging you. Please eat.” On the surface, I remained stoic, but inside, I was just putting on a show. He brought his hand close to me. “Here, you can bite me as an apology. I’m sorry, Lyra. I shouldn’t have kept you locked up.” That was a sincere enough gesture. I gave his hand a gentle nip and then began to feast happily. Full and satisfied, I stretched out on my back. I was feeling a little protein-drunk (not really). I was enjoying Adrian’s gentle pets when the doorbell suddenly rang. It was John, saying he had a new snake to show him. Adrian tucked me into his pocket and led John into the snake house. Sophia was there too, and the pop-up comments flared to life: 【The second male lead is definitely here for the heroine, right? He’s going to ask her to come work at his snake house soon.】 【That means the snake fight isn’t far off. Poor Lyra. Actually, if the hero gets the heroine, it wouldn’t be so bad if the second male lead got the snake.】 I thought that was an excellent idea. If I became John’s snake, surely I couldn’t be eaten by his other snake. So, I quietly wriggled out from the edge of his pocket and, with a swoosh, launched myself into John’s arms. John jumped, then laughed. “Lyra?” Adrian’s face instantly darkened. He reached out to grab me back. I deftly dodged his hand, wrapped myself around John’s wrist, and nuzzled my head into his chest, acting as affectionate as possible. Adrian’s hand froze in mid-air, his eyes looking like they wanted to devour me. “Lyra. Come back.” John gave an awkward smile. “Come on, little princess, go back to him.” I just coiled around John tighter. “Put her back in the terrarium,” Adrian commanded, his voice tight. “Alright.” John carefully began to pry me off, ignoring my writhing. He still dropped me back into the terrarium. I was furious. I slapped my tail against the glass over and over. Adrian’s voice was stern. “Lyra, what exactly are you trying to do?” He was raising his voice at me! I hissed at him, whipping my tail even harder against the glass. “You want to go with him that badly, is that it?” Adrian spoke each word slowly and deliberately. “I’ll open the terrarium. If you still choose him, I’ll let you go.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393899”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Every fight triggers my boyfriend’s social media countdown—a relic of our dumb “three-day silence equals breakup” rule. For ten years, he’s weaponized it. When he skipped our 67th courthouse wedding date to help his “just-divorced” childhood friend—then posted their marriage certificate—I finally snapped. I liked the post and wished them well. His rage exploded: “Mandy accidentally clicked ‘share’! Must you be so petty? She’s fragile right now!” “It’s just paperwork. I’ll marry you when she’s stable. Apologize now.” This time, I hung up. The countdown began again. But no desperate texts. No begging outside his door. Just my resignation submitted. Done. After I hung up on a dozen of his follow-up calls, he finally sent a text, his patience worn thin: “Merrin, you’ve got some nerve. Hanging up on me? You think you’re in the right here?” “You have five minutes to post an apology, or we’re through.” Ten years together, and I’d heard threats like this a hundred times. Every single time, I was the one to cave, to plead for forgiveness. This was the first time I’d ever just hung up. When I didn’t respond, Steve started the countdown on his social media feed. He knew how much I loved him, and he used it. Every fight, he’d start the clock, piling on the pressure. For ten years, that stupid rule was his leash, and I was always the one to come crawling back just before time ran out. But now, I’m tired. I’m so tired of being played. Not long after Steve’s post, Mandy, the childhood friend, posted one of her own, tagging me specifically. “Just a little joke with Steve that I accidentally made public. I didn’t realize Merrin would get so upset. I guess I shouldn’t even talk to her anymore, I’m so afraid of setting her off.” Steve, who rarely even looks at his feed, was the first to like it. “It’s someone’s own issue, Mandy, don’t blame yourself. And why should you hide it? If you want to post something, post it.” “Someone,” of course, meant me. Our mutual friends, whose businesses relied on Steve’s law firm, quickly followed suit. “Merrin is so petty. Don’t let someone like her get you down, Mandy.” “No wonder Steve won’t marry her. I wouldn’t marry a woman that insecure either.” I let out a bitter laugh. He would bend over backwards to defend Mandy, terrified of her feeling even a sliver of discomfort. But me, his girlfriend of ten years? I was always met with cold indifference. Mandy could sneeze, and he would ditch our appointment at the courthouse. I’d complain, and he’d get angrier than I was, accusing me of being controlling and petty. But now that I’d finally let go and congratulated them, he was back to his threats and countdowns, demanding I apologize. It was never about right or wrong. The scales of his affection had tipped long ago. “Ma’am, the man whose ID you provided is already married. Would you like to change the applicant?” The clerk looked at me with pity. I took the ID back and smiled. “That’s something to consider.” The young couple behind me cheered as I stepped out of line. It was Valentine’s Day, and appointments at the clerk’s office were a hot commodity. I had waited for hours just to get this spot. But now, looking at the registration form in my hand, I ripped it to shreds without a second thought and tossed it in the trash. I had filled out that form 67 times. I had given him 67 chances. Every time, I would show up early, full of hope, watching the happy couples while I waited for him to arrive. And every time, just before our appointment, he would call with an excuse. The firm was busy. A client was in crisis. “Merrin, these are people’s lives on the line,” he would say, his voice dripping with self-importance. “You want me to abandon them for a piece of paper? How can you be so selfish?” He never knew that after he ditched me for Mandy, she would send me texts, gloating. “Steve’s cooking is amazing. I bet you’ve never had it, have you?” “I walked a little too far today, and Steve was so worried he bought me a luxury car. You’re still using a bike share, right?” And now, he’d even gotten a marriage license with her. It was time for our story to end. 2 The moment I stepped out of the municipal building, I got a notification. My resignation request had been rejected. HR told me Steve hadn’t been in the office for days and couldn’t approve it. They gave me an address and told me to find him myself. Gritting my teeth, I went. The address was a pool hall. Mandy had posted that she wanted to learn to play pool, and Steve, the workaholic, had apparently skipped work for days to teach her. When I found him, he was leaning over Mandy, guiding her shot, their bodies pressed close. The moment she saw me, a contemptuous smirk played on her lips. A few of his office sycophants saw me and swarmed over. “Well, well, look who’s here for Mr. Big Shot.” “Told you. The three-day countdown wouldn’t even last one. She came crawling back.” “Our boss really has her whipped. One word and she’s on her knees.” “Alright, alright, pay up. A bet’s a bet.” I frowned. I’d heard their taunts a million times before, but it never stung like it did now. “I’m not here to make up.” My words sent them into a fit of laughter. “Don’t pretend, Merrin. Everyone knows you’re Steve’s number one groupie. You wouldn’t leave if he set you on fire.” I ignored them and slapped my resignation papers on the table. “Steve, sign it.” He was about to look at the papers when Mandy whined, “Steve, honey, how do I make this shot?” He immediately dropped the papers, pulled his personal seal out of Mandy’s pocket, and tossed it to me. “Sign it yourself. And don’t bother me while I’m teaching Mandy to play.” Steve was obsessed with his privacy. He never let me near his safe. He’d shield his phone like it held state secrets when he typed in a password. And his personal seal? He never let it out of his sight. But now, he had just given it to Mandy. He was so wrapped up in their “date” that he couldn’t even be bothered with official company documents. I clutched the stamped resignation letter, my heart feeling like a cavern with the wind howling through it. I turned to leave, but Steve called out to me. “Mandy’s busy for the next few days. Can you handle her caseload?” He tossed a thick stack of case files at me, each one with nothing but a title. I’d lost count of how many times he’d asked me to do Mandy’s work. Every time, she would take the credit. But if I made a single mistake under the crushing workload, the blame was all mine. Sometimes I’d refuse, but then he’d accuse me of not caring about him or the firm, of letting him down. He’d say if I didn’t do it, he’d have to do it himself. And I, worried about him overworking himself, would always give in. All my sacrifices just earned me his contempt and the right to be ordered around. But I was an ex-employee now. The firm’s problems weren’t mine anymore. “No, I already qui—” My words were cut off by Mandy’s pathetic whimper. “Steve, it’s okay if Merrin doesn’t want to. I can do it myself.” “You just got divorced,” Steve cooed, full of sympathy. “You’re in no state to work. Go have fun. Don’t worry about it.” He turned back to me, his tone glacial. “You know, you’ve already upset Mandy enough with that stunt on your feed. I’m giving you a chance to make it up to her, and you’re refusing? If you keep this up, in three days, you could be on your knees begging, and I still wouldn’t take you back.” I laughed bitterly. When my mother died unexpectedly, I had collapsed from grief multiple times. All Steve had said was, “Pull yourself together and get to work on time. The firm needs you.” But Mandy, who had been divorced for two years, could still use “not feeling up to it” as an excuse to skip work. “Fine by me. I don’t care.” I turned to leave. Steve’s face was a mask of shock. The colleagues were stunned too. “Is she really leaving?” Mandy just chuckled. “Oh, Merrin, if you don’t want to do the work, just say so. No need to play hard to get.” At her words, Steve’s brow smoothed, his confidence returning. His tone softened. “Alright, Merrin, I know I’ve been neglecting you. Be a good girl and finish Mandy’s work, and in three days, we’ll go get our license, okay?” Another empty promise. But this time, I had no appetite for it. I didn’t answer. I just walked away. The colleagues started their snide remarks again. “Look at her, pretending to be tough. Just wait. By tomorrow, she’ll be back, begging for forgiveness.” A wicked thought crossed my mind. I wanted to see them lose. I smirked and looked back at them. “Fine. Then you just wait and see.” 3 Once my resignation was finalized, I went straight to my best friend’s company. In the legal world, clients follow the lawyer, not the firm. My friend was so thrilled to have a top-tier lawyer like me join her team that she practically bowed at my feet. She offered me ten times my previous salary and a villa. I finally moved out of my shabby little apartment. Many of my old clients had been shocked to learn that a “gold-medal lawyer” lived in such a rundown place. I’d always just brushed it off, saying I wasn’t materialistic. The truth was, I’d willingly taken a junior-level salary for years to help Steve’s firm grow. At first, he was grateful. Then, he started to take it for granted. When the heat broke in my apartment one winter, and I asked for money to replace it, he called me extravagant, accused me of being a gold-digger. But for Mandy? He’d buy her a mansion without a second thought. Even Mandy’s dog had a heated doghouse. On the day I moved, I ran into Steve and Mandy. His parents were with them. The four of them were having a happy family dinner at a high-end restaurant. I froze. I remembered the first time I went to Steve’s house. I came bearing gifts, but his parents served me a table full of leftovers. When I awkwardly suggested we all go out to eat, they accused me of being a leech, a spendthrift living off their son. In the end, I cooked for the whole family. After I’d prepared a feast, Steve’s mother slammed her chopsticks down and declared my food too salty. “Only peasants who do manual labor eat like this,” she sneered. “Just what I’d expect from someone with your background.” The gifts I brought them ended up with the building’s cleaning staff. The contrast made me feel like a clown. Steve’s parents were eagerly piling food onto Mandy’s plate. “Mandy and our Steve are just perfect for each other,” his mother gushed. “If only you hadn’t been tricked by that other man, you two would have been together years ago. I think the time is right. You should be together.” His father chimed in, “Yes! Mandy landed several big clients for Steve as soon as she joined the firm. Her future is limitless. Not like that useless Merrin, who can only cook and clean.” Hearing this, I trembled with rage. I was the one who landed those clients. Steve just credited them to Mandy. The money I earned practically supported the entire firm, but Steve never once praised me. Instead, he constantly belittled me, saying I only got cases because of the platform his firm provided. Now, listening to his parents’ slander, he didn’t even try to correct them. He just sighed. “Well, we’ve been together for so long. It’s comfortable.” My heart plummeted. All these years, to him, I was just… comfortable. His mother was not satisfied. “Steve, I’m telling you, that Merrin girl is bad luck. Just look at how her parents died so young. Marrying her will bring you nothing but trouble.” Steve didn’t respond, but I was already in tears. My parents had died giving blood to save his. After a car accident, Steve’s parents were in critical condition. My parents, who had a matching blood type, donated without a second thought. But it wasn’t enough. Steve was a mess. My parents, knowing how much I loved him, secretly donated more blood than their bodies could handle. Steve’s parents were saved. Mine were gone. At first, his family felt guilty. They promised to compensate me, to take care of me. But the compensation never came. Instead, I became the “bad luck” they talked about. I couldn’t listen anymore. I turned to leave.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393916”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day of my birthday gala, the pink Rolls-Royce my father gave me was smashed into a twisted wreck by my stepsister. When the paramedics arrived, my stepsister, Sylvia, was clinging to life, her voice a desperate whisper. “Claire… I’ll never dance again, I promise! Please… don’t crush my legs…” In that single moment, I became public enemy number one. My stepmother fell to her knees, begging me to spare them. My father, his face a mask of pure disappointment, disowned me on the spot. And my fiancé, Carlisle, didn’t just call off our engagement—he dragged me into his car, shattered my ankle with a golf club, and personally delivered me to the police station. “You monster,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “Why don’t you just die!” The police arrested me for aggravated assault. Five years in prison. I was beaten more times than I could count, until there wasn’t a single inch of my skin left unmarred. They even forcibly removed one of my kidneys. Just as they’d wished, I was finally dying. And only then did they regret it. They came to me, weeping. “Claire, we’re so sorry. Whatever you want, we’ll give it to you. Anything.” 1 Five years. Nearly two thousand days and nights. I stood outside the prison gates, wearing the same sweater I had on the day I was incarcerated. It hung on me like a burlap sack, a hollow shroud over a body that was nothing but sharp bones and a tapestry of scars. The world outside felt vast and terrifying, and I was frozen, unsure of where to even take my first step. Before I could process my freedom, a dark car screeched to a halt beside me. Hands grabbed me, a cloth bag was thrown over my head, and I was shoved inside. The car sped off, eventually delivering me to an exclusive, dimly-lit lounge. The bag was ripped from my head, the sudden light stinging my eyes. Before I could get my bearings, a slick voice cut through the haze. “Well, look who’s awake.” I looked up. CRACK. A man’s hand connected with my cheek. The pain was a searing flame, but it was nothing compared to the cold, predatory gaze I felt boring into me from a shadowy corner of the room. The man who’d slapped me grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Tsk, tsk. Dressed so heavily in the middle of summer?” He leaned in, his breath foul. “Ugh, you’re hideous. Where did they even find you?” He then spat on my face. “Disgusting.” With a final shove, he sent me sprawling to the floor. I swallowed the pain, scrambled to my knees, and hid my face in the high collar of my sweater. My voice came out as a raw, panicked rasp. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. It was my fault.” I thought if I begged, if I groveled, they would let me go. “Miss Evans,” a voice, cold as a tombstone, echoed from the dark corner. “I must say, five years have certainly changed you. The notoriously arrogant Claire Evans has learned to kneel.” The entire room fell silent, all eyes turning to watch the unfolding drama. My body trembled uncontrollably. I tried to shrink further into my collar, to disappear. The figure in the corner rose and walked toward me, his expensive leather shoes clicking softly on the marble floor. He stopped a single foot away, and the very air around him seemed to drop ten degrees, a chilling frost that threatened to suffocate me. I forced myself to look up, my gaze meeting his. It was Carlisle. His eyes, once warm, were now pits of black ice, filled with nothing but disgust and a deep, simmering hatred. “Long time no see, Miss Evans,” he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “You’ve… changed.” The formal address sent a shiver down my spine, draining the blood from my face. Suddenly, his hand shot out, his fingers clamping around my jaw. I flinched, my eyes wide with terror, but it was too late. I was trapped in his unyielding gaze. “Tsk. This face of yours… it’s truly repulsive,” he sneered, his grip tightening, his thumb digging cruelly into my cheek. “But you deserve it. You’re a viper, Claire. To do that to your own sister… After what you did to Sylvia, a ruined face is the least you deserve.” A murderous glint flashed in his eyes, and for a moment, I thought he would crush my jawbone. I didn’t hurt Sylvia. I didn’t do it. The words burned in my throat, but I choked them back. I had screamed them a thousand times five years ago. No one believed me then. No one would believe me now. “Cough…” Carlisle stared at me, his expression cold and unforgiving. Then, he abruptly released me, letting me collapse onto the floor like a discarded doll. 2 Carlisle pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and meticulously wiped the fingers that had touched my skin. He tossed the soiled cloth onto my body with contempt. “She’s all yours,” he announced to the room with a light, dismissive laugh. “Have fun.” And with that, he turned and walked out of the suite without a backward glance. In the dim, amber light, hands grabbed me again, dragging me toward a large, circular sofa where several men were lounging, each with one or two women draped over them. “Lift your head,” one of them commanded. I remained still, my face hidden. A hand tangled in my hair and yanked my head back, forcing my face into the light. It was a gaunt, sallow mask, crisscrossed with scars. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” the man barked. “Whoa! She’s terrifying! So damn ugly,” another man exclaimed. “Who’d want to touch that? Seriously, what was Carlisle thinking? You wouldn’t even pick this up off the street.” My shoulders shook, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. “Please, sir, just let me go,” I pleaded. “I’m filthy. You don’t want to dirty your hands on me.” “At least she knows her place,” a portly man with a greasy face chimed in. He squinted at me. “You’re Claire Evans, aren’t you?” The room went quiet for a beat, then erupted in whispers. “Claire Evans… the one who went to prison.” “That’s her? The spoiled heiress of Ashton City?” “Damn, time is a cruel mistress. Look what it’s done to you, Miss Evans.” “Mr. Wallace, how can you even tell it’s her when she looks like… that?” So, the portly man was Mr. Wallace. “The way Carlisle treated her, but still called her ‘Miss Evans’… it has to be her,” Wallace said, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He rose slowly and walked toward me. He reached out as if to pat my head, and I instinctively recoiled. His other hand shot out, grabbing my hair and forcing me to look at him. “Well, Miss Evans,” he purred. “This just got a lot more interesting.” He gestured to a full bottle of whiskey on the table. “Here. Drink this whole bottle, and maybe… just maybe, I’ll let you walk out of here.” I stared at the bottle. I couldn’t. The empty space where my left kidney used to be screamed a silent warning. If I drank that, I would die right here. If I refused… maybe I’d have a chance to live. “No, please, I can’t,” I begged, dropping to the floor and bowing my head frantically. “Mr. Wallace, I’m begging you, please let me go. I can’t drink it, please, I’m begging you…” “Alright, alright, we won’t drink,” he said with a sickening smile. “If you won’t drink, we’ll just have to find another way to have some fun.” He waved a dismissive hand at the others. Understanding the signal, they quickly and quietly filed out of the room. Soon, it was just me and Mr. Wallace. He began to laugh, a low, guttural sound, as he stripped off his jacket and tie. His eyes, alight with a feverish glow, fixed on me as he advanced. My blood ran cold. I scrambled backward, using the arm of the sofa to pull myself to my feet. “Stay away from me!” “Oh, I love it when you struggle, Miss Evans,” he sneered. “Come on, show me some of that fire you had when you turned me down all those years ago.” In a panic, I grabbed anything I could reach—glasses, ashtrays, coasters—and hurled them at him. But it was useless against a healthy man. In three long strides, he was on me, pinning my arms. I opened my mouth and sank my teeth into his fleshy, oily hand. He roared in pain and flung me away. My body slammed against the cold marble floor. Before I could even try to get up, he was on top of me, his weight crushing me, his hands tearing at my clothes. I went feral, scratching, clawing, biting, fighting with the last vestiges of my strength. Enraged by my resistance, he grabbed a nearby wine bottle and brought it down hard on my head. The world exploded in a flash of light, then spun into a nauseating vortex. I went limp, feeling my life slipping away. But I can’t die, a voice screamed in my mind. Not until I’ve cleared my name. I can’t die! Just as my eyes were about to close for good, the suite door burst open. A blinding light flooded the room, and a silhouette rushed in, sending my attacker flying with a single, brutal kick. 3 I woke up in a sterile white hospital room. Sylvia was beside my bed, sitting in a wheelchair. Carlisle stood protectively behind her. Noticing I was awake, Sylvia leaned forward, her face a perfect portrait of concern. “Claire, you’re finally awake! How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” If I hadn’t lived through the hell she’d created, I might have actually believed her performance. “I heard you were released and I rushed to find you,” she continued, her voice soft with fake sympathy. “I can’t believe they took you to a place like that… to hurt you.” “Claire… why aren’t you saying anything?” I just stared at her, my gaze unwavering. “Sylvia,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I gave you everything you ever wanted. I treated you like a real sister. Why did you frame me?” “Claire, what are you talking about?” she said, feigning shock. “It’s all in the past. It’s okay, sister. I’ve already forgiven you.” I wasn’t asking for forgiveness. I was demanding an answer. “Why,” I repeated, my voice rising with an anger I couldn’t contain, “did you frame me?” Sylvia flinched as if I’d struck her, and tears immediately welled in her eyes. “Claire, I can forgive you for the harm you caused me, but why can’t you just let it go? Why do you have to keep insisting on this?” Carlisle immediately stepped forward, shielding her. “Claire, that’s enough! Don’t push your luck. Sylvia is willing to forgive and forget, and you’re still trying to force her to admit to something she didn’t do?” He glared at me. “The evidence spoke for itself. Did five years in prison teach you nothing?” Sylvia tugged on his sleeve. “Carlisle, please, just stop. It’s okay. I… I just want to be alone for a while. Let’s go.” … That evening, Sylvia returned, alone. She wheeled herself to my door, glanced down the hallway, and then quietly closed the door behind her. In her lap was a container of food. “Sister,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “I brought you some sushi from your favorite place. Won’t you have some?” I said nothing, just watched her, my eyes burning holes into her. She met my gaze, a slow, malicious smile spreading across her face. “No? Not even a bite?” She let out a short, sharp laugh. “Tsk. Fine. Yes. I did it on purpose. I framed you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393932”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My daddy doesn’t love my mommy. All the other kids at preschool said their mommies and daddies slept in the same bed. Mine never did. Then one day, a group of bad men took us. Mommy managed to call Daddy. I heard his voice roaring through the phone. “Then just die already. And stop dragging that bastard child into your little dramas.” Mommy frantically tried to cover my ears. But I still heard it. On the seventh day, Mommy fell into a very quiet sleep beside me. The red water mixed with the dirt, and my stomach, growling with a hunger that made me see stars, crammed it into my mouth. It was bitter. Daddy was crying, begging me not to fall asleep. I reached up with my small, filthy hand to wipe his face, my tummy aching. “Don’t cry, Daddy,” I whispered. “I’m going to be a star, just like Mommy.” 1 The day the bad men tied me up, Mommy fell to her knees, her eyes swollen and red from crying. “Please,” she begged, her voice cracking. “Don’t hurt Lisa. She doesn’t know anything.” “Then you’d better call Mr. Vance,” one of them sneered. “Tell him it’ll take five million dollars to get you back.” Mommy stayed on her knees, her forehead touching the grimy floor as she pleaded. “He won’t come. I’m not worth five million. What about one million? I can get one million…” Before she could finish, a fat man slapped her hard across the face. I lunged forward, sinking my teeth into his hand with all my might. “Don’t you hurt my mommy!” The man flung me away and raised his boot to kick me. Mommy scrambled across the floor and threw herself over me, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm. “Lisa…” she gasped. I don’t know how long he kicked her. After a while, Mommy started to throw up, just like I did when I was little and sick. But what came out was red water. It was bright and crimson, like a shiny red ribbon from a prize-winning project. So much of it. A hollow ache bloomed in my chest. “Mommy… Mommy…” I cried. “It’s okay, Lisa, baby. Don’t be scared…” The bad men shoved a phone at her again, yanking her up to answer it. “Go on. Beg him. Get him to pay up, and we’ll let you go.” Mommy’s voice was a shattered whisper. “Damien, I’ve been kidnapped. Can you please… can you save me and our daughter?” She was sobbing so hard she could barely speak, but Daddy’s voice cut through her like a razor. “Serena, can you stop the theatrics? You’d really stoop to lying about a kidnapping just to get my attention?” I tried to run to her, but another bad man held me tight, his hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my screams. Mommy’s pain seemed to deepen, her hand clutching her chest. “Lisa is your child, too.” Her voice was desperate. “These men are killers. If you don’t pay the ransom, we’re really going to die.” Daddy’s voice came through the speaker, clear and terrifying. “Then just die already. And stop dragging that bastard child into your little dramas.” I bit down, hard, on the hand that was silencing me. “Daddy!” I screamed. The screen went dark. I didn’t know if he heard me, or if he would come. Someone threw me to the ground and a sharp kick landed in my tummy. “Little runt.” Mommy fought against them, a wild animal protecting her young, and rushed to shield me again. “Don’t hurt her! Please, don’t hurt her…” she pleaded. “Just give me one more day. Just one day.” The men backed off. “One day. If you don’t have the money by then, don’t blame us for what happens next.” That night, I was freezing and burning up all at once. “Mommy, my tummy hurts…” I whimpered. She held me close, her arms a fragile shield. “It’s okay, Lisa, my sweet girl. Just hold on a little longer. Daddy will come for us.” Deep down, I knew Daddy hated us. But the light in Mommy’s eyes was already fading, and I couldn’t bear to be the one to snuff it out. “Really?” I asked, my voice small. “Really.” They threw another phone at us. I guessed Mommy was going to call my uncle. I remembered the last time we went to his house. He didn’t like me. He wouldn’t even let us inside. We stood on his porch for a long, long time, but the door never opened. The sun was so hot, and I was so thirsty, but Mommy looked so sad that I didn’t dare say a word. When we got home, Daddy and Mommy were fighting again. I tried to climb onto the kitchen counter to get a drink from the tap, but I slipped and fell. It hurt a lot. Daddy saw me. “You won’t even give a child a glass of water? You’ll do anything to get me to come home and fund your family’s projects, won’t you? You’re unbelievable.” Mommy scooped me up from the floor, tears streaming down her face. I knew she hadn’t stopped me from getting water. The front door slammed shut. Usually, when Daddy got that angry, Mommy would chase after him. But this time, she just held me on the sofa, her eyes searching my face. “Does it hurt, Lisa?” I shook my head. “Are you thirsty too, Mommy?” She squeezed my hand. “Don’t drink cold water anymore, okay? It’ll give you a tummy ache.” I nodded fiercely. The phone finally connected on the fifth try. Mommy’s face, which had been pale as a ghost, lit up with a flicker of joy. It was the same look I got when I saw Daddy come home. “Serena, are you ever going to stop bothering me?” 2 Mommy flinched but pushed on. “Victor, can you lend me five million dollars? I’ll pay you back in a few days.” “Ask Damien Vance for it,” he scoffed. “Three years ago, you handed him our company’s trade secrets. Don’t tell me he won’t even spare that much for you now.” The hand holding the phone trembled. Her voice was on the verge of breaking. “I understand why you hate me, but Lisa… she’s just a little girl. She’s been kidnapped. Can you please, please save her?” “Don’t try to play the sympathy card with me. You’ll say anything, won’t you?” he sneered. “She’s a Vance. The golden child of the Vance Corporation. Who would dare kidnap her? Call me again, and I won’t hesitate to drag up the past and take you to court.” He hung up. Mommy’s hand shook as she dialed again, and again, and again, until all she got was a busy signal. One of the bad men glanced at the phone. “You’ve got two hours left, Ms. Shaw. Don’t waste our time.” Mommy gave me a long, deep look. “Wait. Just… just give me a little more time.” This next call was answered almost immediately. “Ethan, can you lend me five million?” That name sounded familiar. I remembered Daddy gripping Mommy’s throat, his voice tight with fury. “What about Ethan Croft, then? When the Shaws were about to go under, you begged him for help, didn’t you? What exactly did you do for him?” Mommy just shook her head, trying to deny it, but that only made Daddy angrier. “Then tell me whose bastard child she is!” Mommy’s eyes found me then, and the tears started to fall. “I’ve already explained, nothing happened between us. Lisa is innocent. If this marriage is making you so miserable, we can get a divorce.” Daddy laughed, a chilling, humorless sound. “I paid a high price for you, Serena. Why would I let you go?” I stood frozen behind them as he ignored her struggles and dragged her into the bedroom. I heard her muffled cries of pain, but I couldn’t do anything. The door was locked. A long, long time passed. I eventually fell asleep, curled up against the door. When Daddy came out, he walked right past me without a glance. Mommy was slumped against the bed, sitting on the floor, looking like one of the flower buds from the preschool garden after a heavy rain. Her neck was covered in dark marks. When she looked at me, her eyes held an emotion I couldn’t understand. “Don’t be afraid, Lisa,” she whispered. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m the one who’s wrong.” Her words finally broke me, and I started to cry. The line on the phone was silent for a long time. Mommy’s voice was tense. “Three million. Three million would work. Ethan, please. I’m begging you.” His voice was softer than Daddy’s, but it felt even colder. “Begging? I begged you once, Serena. I begged you to come to me.” He paused. “Is Damien Vance short on cash? Or is this another one of your little plays, a scheme to let Vance Corp swallow up Croft Industries? Think about the past, Serena. You were never worthy of my love.” He hung up. Mommy was like a flower in the garden, her stem finally snapped by the wind. She was completely lifeless. I don’t know why, but a wave of sadness washed over me, deeper than the time my neighbor, Leo, said he didn’t want to be my friend anymore. It seemed like all the strength had drained out of her. One of the bad men picked up a heavy club and walked toward her. “Mommy!” I screamed. Her eyes flickered towards me, and she started struggling against the metal cuffs binding her hands. “I have jewelry, a lot of it. You know who I am… the Shaws are rich. I can go back, sell everything, and give you the money. Just let Lisa go. Please, send her home.” Her voice was a desperate rasp. “She’s so small. She’ll die here.” The man laughed coldly. “Like we care.” “Let you go? You think we’re that stupid?” “Time’s up.” And with that, the club in his hand came crashing down on her. She didn’t cry out this time. I knew it must have hurt terribly, but she didn’t make a sound. She just kept whispering for me to run. The club quickly turned red. Mommy slumped out of the chair and fell to the floor. I scrambled over to her, trying to shield her with my own small body. Red water and strands of her hair were matted to her face. I didn’t hesitate. I wrapped my arms around her. “You’re all monsters!” My sobs echoed through the empty, skeletal building. The bad men stood together, talking amongst themselves. “Looks like he’s really not coming.” “Can you believe it? The richest man in Port Sterling is so cheap and heartless he won’t even save his own kid.” “We got the call. They said to wrap it up. We gotta get out of here before it’s too late. Settle it on-site.” “Before we do… maybe we should have a little fun first, boys?” Their laughter was like the sound of monsters on TV, only so much scarier. Mommy’s eyes, clouded with red, were wide with terror. She kept shaking her head, trying to tell me to run. I just held her tighter, refusing to let go, my cries of “Mommy!” tearing from my throat. One of them grabbed me, lifting me up like a doll. “Too noisy.” I felt a sharp, searing pain in my neck, and as I heard Mommy’s final, terrified scream, the world went black.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393949”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day after my divorce settlement, I got into a car accident and lost my memory. Later, my ex-husband, Liam, found me. He said we could get back together, if I stopped having my… episodes. I froze, the ice cream spoon halfway to my mouth. After a long moment, I managed to stammer, “No, thank you! I… I think I’m good with just the money.” 1 I woke up to my best friend, Liane, staring at me with a worried frown. She told me not to be sad. She said my health was the most important thing, and that even though I was divorced, I had to live well. She said our children would be fine with Liam, that I didn’t need to fight for custody anymore, especially since I couldn’t win. I stared at her, completely lost. After a moment, I had to ask, “Who’s Liam?” Liane froze, her expression blank. It took her a second to process before she was shouting for a doctor. The doctor said I had amnesia from the car accident. Liane, her voice tight with anxiety, asked me how old I thought I was. I thought for a moment. “Eighteen? Didn’t I just finish my final exams yesterday?” Liane burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she had to squat down, clutching her stomach and pounding her fist on the bed. “Oh, Violet! This is perfect! The timing of this amnesia is just… perfect. Yes, you’re eighteen. Eighteen is great! No Liam, no kids… just us.” I was more confused than ever. 2 Liane took me home. Once she was sure my memory wasn’t coming back anytime soon, she gave me the rundown. Me, Violet Lee. I’d fallen in love my freshman year of college with a poor kid named Liam Pierce. I was with him for ten years, from eighteen to twenty-eight. I helped him build his business from the ground up, lived on scraps with him, gave him children, and took care of his parents. And then, this year, he filed for divorce. “…What?!” I was horrified. It sounded like a tragic, melodramatic soap opera. My voice trembled. “So, you’re telling me I was basically a servant for ten years, and then at twenty-eight, I was thrown out on the street?” Liane nodded. “That’s about right. You also have two kids. A son, who’s six, and a daughter, who’s four. But because you were a stay-at-home mom with no income, and the kids both chose to stay with their dad, Liam got full custody.” “…What?! I lost the children I raised?!” Even though I had no memory of any of this, it sounded terrifying. I was on the verge of tears. Then Liane grinned and patted my shoulder. “Don’t be too sad. At least you have money.” Tears welled in my eyes. “How much?” I asked tentatively. Liane sat up straight. “Violet, listen carefully. You got 20% of Liam’s assets, 10% of the shares in three publicly traded companies, and two townhouses in the city. It’s worth about one hundred and ninety million dollars.” “…” Silence. Contemplation. Then, a hesitant question. “Liane, you’re not messing with me, are you?” “If I’m lying, I’m a dog.” That day, I stared out the window in a daze. I had lost ten years of my life. I had no idea how I had lived them. But Liane said I was rich, and when I was eighteen, the thing I loved most in the world was money. So, I figured, this wasn’t so bad. 3 Liane took some time off work to help me with all the paperwork. I never saw the “Liam” she had told me about; he had his lawyers handle the entire asset division. After about a month of running around, Liane helped me list all my properties for rent. She did the math; the monthly rental income would be around one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. That day, I stared at the endless string of zeros on my bank statement, then at my reflection in the mirror—a twenty-eight-year-old woman, immaculately dressed and styled. I scratched my head. Not bad at all. 4 I didn’t have much to do, but Liane had to work. So I spent my days at her place, playing video games. She’d order takeout for me when she ordered her own lunch. She always came home late, completely drained. She’d collapse onto the sofa, looking like she was at the end of her rope. I’d put down my game controller and give her a shoulder rub. It was like I had muscle memory for it; I was surprisingly good. Once she’d recovered a bit, she started ranting. “Liam is such a bastard. Right after you graduated, you were his free labor. His mom was sick, and you had to give her massages after work every day.” “…” “And you,” she said, turning to flick my forehead, “you’re just a pushover, Violet. When I’m not around, you just let them walk all over you. They took advantage of you because you were an orphan with no one to stand up for you.” I rubbed my head, feeling a little defensive. “I don’t remember any of that! I only remember you.” Liane stopped, then smiled. “That’s right. You don’t remember. It’s better that way. As long as you remember me, that’s enough. I won’t bully you.” I believed her. Liane and I had grown up together in an orphanage. When we were little, I was always trailing behind her. She’d fight for my snacks and help me with my laundry. When we got older, she’d tutor me. She was a year older than me, so when I was a senior in high school, she was a freshman in college. She called me every day, pushing me to study hard. She wanted me to go to the same college as her, but Liane was brilliant. She got into a top university. I studied until I thought my brain would explode, but I still couldn’t get in. The day my results came back, I cried in her arms. Liane flicked my forehead. “What are you crying for? You got a great score. There’s nothing to cry about.” She stroked my head. “You did amazing.” Later, I went to a different city for college, still in tears. 5 Liane always regretted it. “I never should have let you go there,” she’d say. “If you hadn’t gone to that city, you never would have met Liam. And if you hadn’t met Liam…” “I wouldn’t have one hundred and ninety million dollars,” I finished for her. Liane put her hands on her hips. “What’s more important, the money or those ten years of your life?” I tried to guess the right answer. “The money?” “You!” she said, exasperated. “You’re more important. If you’re not happy, all the money in the world doesn’t matter. It’s a good thing you lost your memory. What if you’d done something stupid? What good would the money have been then?” “Um… to buy a nice tombstone?” Liane laughed, exasperated. “Get out!” “…” Liane was always amazing. She was still amazing now, a general manager at a multinational corporation, earning around forty thousand a month. But she was busy, and she often had to travel for work. She was worried about leaving me alone, so she started taking me with her. Then she had a thought: since she was taking me everywhere anyway, why should she pay for it herself? So she hired me as her assistant. I knew this role! I’d spent the last few months binge-reading a dozen “billionaire CEO falls for his assistant” novels. On my first day, I showed up in a form-fitting pencil skirt, brimming with confidence. I made her coffee, organized her files, and ran around the office, looking incredibly busy. She watched me, amused, and finally told me to stop running around. She gave me a spreadsheet. “Let Amber show you the ropes. Work on this. Take your time, no rush.” “You got it!” And just like that, I officially started my new job. 6 I went to work with Liane every day. I didn’t have a lot to do, so I usually finished early. Liane, on the other hand, was swamped. I’d wait for her in the break room. One day, she saw me watching online courses on my phone and asked me seriously, “Violet, do you want to study?” “…I do.” With my amnesia, I was starting from scratch at work. I felt dejected every time I couldn’t do something right. Growing up, Liane had always been my role model, and she still was. I wanted to be like her, effortlessly competent and cool. So Liane signed me up for some classes. After work, I’d drive to my lessons. It was a comprehensive project management course, with a mix of different software applications. I filled two notebooks with notes before it finally started to click. After that course, Liane sent me to study accounting. I spent a year on it, and everything finally fell into place. I was getting the hang of my job. 7 After a year at the company, Liane started having me join Amber in client meetings. Amber was three years younger than me, a project manager with a wonderful personality. She was gentle and kind, and she always looked out for me. After one meeting, she bought herself a coffee and got me an ice cream. I was happily eating my ice cream when Amber laughed. “Liane said you’re 29, but I never believe her. Violet, you’re just a kid! A hardworking, obedient kid.” I thought for a moment and told her gravely, “Actually, I have two kids.” “Don’t lie to me. We’ve been working together for over a year, and I’ve never even seen your husband.” “We’re divorced.” “Violet, you look like a teenager.” “Well… technically, I’m a young divorcee.” Amber was stunned. She didn’t believe me. I laughed; honestly, I didn’t believe it either. I had just finished my final exams, how could I be twenty-nine? But I had been taking good care of myself for the past two years, so I did look young. Right after the divorce, I hadn’t been in a good state. I was a wreck. But maybe money really is the best medicine. After I got out of the hospital, Liane took me for all sorts of spa treatments. She said I was too weak and signed me up for a fighting class. The eighteen-year-old me always followed Liane’s lead. If she said east, I’d never go west. If she said fighting, I’d never sign up for taekwondo. We had a private chef at home, and with all the good food and care, I started to get better and better. With no memory of the past, no worries, plenty of money, and no job, I could eat and sleep as much as I wanted. In those few months, my hair even got thicker. The past year or so had been happy. I had forgotten the messy memories of the last decade. My eighteen-year-old mind was a clean slate, eagerly absorbing all sorts of new knowledge, with Liane always there to support and guide me. But maybe fate couldn’t stand to see me so comfortable. One day, at a client meeting with Amber, I ran into a man. 8 Amber’s meeting that day was confidential, so I couldn’t go. She left me at a coffee shop downstairs with a book and some ice cream. I was halfway through my book when I felt someone staring at me. I looked up. A man in a sharp suit was watching me, his brow furrowed. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him. When Amber finished her meeting, I grabbed the coffee I’d bought for her and went to find her. As I passed the man, I heard him say, “Pretending you don’t know me?” His comment was so out of the blue that I just glanced at him and kept walking. But he followed me out. “Violet Lee, not even a hello when you see me?” I turned around, and Amber turned with me. When Amber saw the man, she smiled. “Mr. Pierce! Long time no see.” Liam ignored her, his eyes fixed on me. I looked at the man. Mr. Pierce? Could it be… Liam Pierce? I whispered to Amber, “Is that Liam Pierce?” “Yeah! The CEO of Pierce Corporation. You know him?” “…Um, I think he’s my… ex-husband.” Amber’s jaw dropped. She looked at me, then at Liam, then back at me. Liam was still staring at me. I thought for a moment, then extended my hand. “Hello.” Liam didn’t take my hand. He looked at me with a condescending, mocking expression. “Violet Lee, I underestimated you. I actually thought you were a good mother. In court, you fought so hard for Leo and Maya, but as soon as you got the money, you didn’t even come to see them once… It’s a good thing I got custody. A person like you, you don’t deserve to be a mother.” A strange wave of sadness washed over me, but it faded as quickly as it came. I wracked my brain, but I couldn’t remember what “Leo” and “Maya” looked like. “Violet Lee, this weekend, you’d better come back. Otherwise, you’ll never see Leo and Maya again for the rest of your life.” Liam left, leaving me with a bewildered Amber and a pensive me. 9 That night, for the first time, I heard about my two children from Liane. “They’re both smart kids,” she said. “But when Liam was starting his business, you were busy too. You went back to work right after giving birth. Their grandparents raised them, so they were never very close to you.” “Violet, when you divorced, you could have gotten 50% of the marital assets. But you signed an agreement with Liam. You only took 20%, but he had to promise in writing not to remarry, and to leave all his assets to the children.” She paused, then continued, “You carried them for nine months. You loved them more than anything. But it didn’t matter. They didn’t like you. The day I came to pick you up, I saw them yelling at you, saying you did nothing and still took 20% of Liam’s money. They told you to give it back. You just stood there, silently. They got so angry they threw a glass at you…” Liane’s voice trailed off. She sighed and hugged me. “Violet, please don’t remember. Isn’t it nice for us to just be happy like this?” I nodded seriously. “Okay. I don’t want to remember either.” “But if you want to see them this weekend, you should go. You can’t avoid them forever. I’ll go with you. No one will bully you.” I looked up at Liane and nodded. It wouldn’t have mattered if I didn’t see them; I had truly forgotten. I only felt a pang of sadness when they were first mentioned, but now, I felt nothing. I was just a little curious. I wanted to see what they looked like. 10 Liane went with me. When Liam opened the door and saw her, he frowned. He clearly didn’t like Liane, and Liane definitely didn’t like him. Liam told me to come in, but tried to block Liane at the door. I panicked and ran back out to stand behind Liane. I was a little afraid of Liam. He was so tall, so imposing, and I didn’t remember him at all. I clung to Liane. If she wasn’t going in, neither was I. Liam’s face instantly darkened. “Violet Lee, if you want to see the children today, you have to come in alone.” “Then I won’t see them.” I shook my head like a rattle. I was terrified. What kind of person was this? I tried to pull Liane away, but Liam laughed, exasperated. “Violet Lee, what’s wrong with you? Am I that scary?” Of course he was scary. He was almost six-foot-three, built like a brick wall. He could probably pin me to the wall with one punch and I wouldn’t be able to get away. I was firm. “…I’m only going in with Liane.” Liam’s face was grim. Liane met his gaze with a blank expression. Finally, Liam stepped aside. “Come in!” The villa’s living room was huge. In the center sat a boy of about seven or eight. He looked just like his father, and his expression wasn’t friendly when he saw me. That must be Leo. Next to him was a little girl, who must be Maya. The little girl followed her brother’s lead, looking at me with a hint of curiosity. “Are you Mommy?” I nodded. Maya tugged on her brother’s sleeve. “Brother, Mommy is… so pretty now.” The boy suddenly yelled, “Shut up! Don’t call her Mommy! She’s not our mommy anymore! She doesn’t care about you or me! What kind of mommy is that?! And she won’t let Daddy get married, so we can’t have a new mommy! She’s a bad person! She’s crazy!” “…” Any anticipation I had felt vanished in an instant. I wasn’t as sad as I thought I’d be. I still couldn’t remember them. They looked familiar, but the memories were completely gone. It felt like two vaguely familiar children were yelling at me. I wasn’t angry, just bored.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393965”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel