Category: English

The summer Asher Vance got engaged to the real heiress, I threw myself into the river. Back then, the heiress and I were locked in a war with no rules. It ended with my little dog, my only companion, beaten to death. My classmates called me a thief who had stolen another’s nest. I was imprisoned in my own home, forced to become her ghostwriter… Even Asher, the boy next door, knelt and caressed my face, his voice a low murmur. “Why can’t you just learn to behave?” he’d said. “Just be obedient in the Rosenberg family, and your future will be limitless.” When I was finally pulled from the river by a kind stranger, twenty years had passed. In those twenty years, Asher Vance never married. The Rosenberg family never stopped searching for their missing adopted daughter. And the real heiress, Amelia, vanished without a trace, a topic the Vance and Rosenberg families refused to discuss. I felt nothing anymore. I had no intention of revealing myself to any of them. I was focused on my sweet, new life with my sweet, new boyfriend. But on the day I went to meet his parents, my heart pounded with a sickening familiarity as we drove down a street I knew all too well. “Alex,” I asked, my voice trembling. “Why didn’t you ever tell me your father was Asher Vance?” 1 “Don’t be nervous. My father is very easygoing. He won’t give you a hard time.” Alex was clearly from a wealthy family, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place the name ‘Kensington.’ Perhaps they were new money, rising to prominence in the twenty years I’d been gone. Would a family like that really allow their son to marry a woman with no past? Alex gently squeezed my cheek. “Mia, have some confidence. You’re a wonderful girl. No one could possibly dislike you.” Twenty years had changed the city of Westbrook dramatically. Skyscrapers lined the streets where old buildings once stood. The amusement park I used to love was gone, replaced by an elementary school. To me, it was a brand-new, alien city. As the scenery outside the car window shifted, the driver turned toward the suburbs. The closer we got, the heavier my heart became. Unlike the transformed city center, this road was almost exactly as I remembered it. I had traveled it countless times. The trees were just a little taller, a little fuller. “Alex,” I said, digging my nails into my palm and forcing a smile. “You’ve never told me about your family.” He was oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. He took my hand, his touch meant to be reassuring. “I didn’t want to worry you with things like family status and background.” He paused, and seeing my persistent gaze, he finally lowered his voice. “My father’s last name is Vance.” For a moment, my mind went blank. I didn’t have time to wonder why a father and son would have different last names. There was only one Vance family on this road. And I had once lived right next door to them. 2 After twenty years, I was as good as dead to them. They probably wouldn’t even recognize me. Who remembers the face of someone they utterly despised? As we talked, the car pulled into the Vance family’s courtyard. My eyes instinctively darted to the villa next door. It looked abandoned, the walls weather-stained and crumbling, the garden overgrown and untended. Alex led me by the hand into the main hall. The butler greeted us with a warm smile. “Young Master Alex, you’ve returned. Mr. Vance has been waiting for you.” He then turned to me with perfect courtesy. “And you must be Miss Summers…” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening in unconcealed shock. After more than forty years of service, this was likely the first time he had ever lost his composure in front of a guest. His gaze flickered between me and Alex before he gave a self-deprecating laugh. “My apologies. My old eyes are playing tricks on me. For a moment, I thought I had seen you somewhere before, Miss Summers.” “I just have one of those faces, I suppose,” I replied politely. As I followed Alex inside, I froze. The interior was almost identical to how it had been the year I left. Memories I had deliberately buried surged to the surface, only to be silenced by the sight of the man’s back on the sofa. Fate has a cruel sense of humor, forcing me to face the one person I never wanted to see again. But this time, I wouldn’t run. “You’re back?” Asher’s once-clear voice had deepened with age. Even sitting, I could see he was still tall and well-built. He put down his phone and looked up, a smile in his eyes that froze the moment he saw me. “This is my girlfriend, Mia Summers.” 3 The room fell silent. The silence was only broken by the clink of a fruit platter being set on the table by the housekeeper. Asher tore his gaze away and poured himself a glass of water. Alex led me to the seat across from him and presented a gift bag. “Mia picked this out especially for you.” Asher, ever polite, opened the gift. When he saw what was inside, his eyes shot back to me. His stare was so intense it felt like a physical weight on my face. I cursed myself internally but managed a sweet smile. “Alex mentioned you enjoy tea, so I bought a tea set. I hope you like it.” “Thank you. You have excellent taste. Did you pick it out yourself?” he asked, toying with one of the cups, his tone laced with intrigue. If I had known I was meeting Asher Vance, I never would have bought a white porcelain tea set. Years ago, in an effort to please my adoptive parents, he had been the one to teach me how to judge the quality of white porcelain, from its translucence to the way it held water. The set now sitting in front of him was a perfect reflection of his own aesthetic. “The shopkeeper helped me choose. I don’t know much about these things.” He nodded, saying nothing more. Sensing my tension, Alex squeezed my fingers and speared a piece of pineapple—my favorite—for me. Asher watched our interaction, his expression a complex mix of nostalgia and sorrow. “Mia, what do your parents do?” he asked, finally looking away from our joined hands, his gaze dropping to his teacup. “My parents passed away a long time ago. I grew up in an orphanage.” “Your mother passed away? Was her name…” he started, then cut himself off, forcing back the name that was about to escape his lips. I pretended not to hear. I exchanged a glance with Alex, who gave me a subtle, reassuring lift of his eyebrows. My story was full of holes to him, but he clearly had no intention of exposing me right now. “Alex, you stay here with Mia for a while.” Asher rose, looking utterly lost. The butler’s hushed words drifted over. “The resemblance is undeniable, sir. It’s almost a perfect match.” “No wonder we could never find Miss Rosenberg. It seems she…” “Should we notify the Rosenberg family?” Asher was silent for a long time before he answered, his voice weary. “Mr. Gable, a person like her… she would only think of revenge. How could she possibly… die so easily?” His voice trailed off, becoming indistinct. I glanced at my reflection in a nearby mirror. My face was fuller now, my eyes bright and full of life. I had a short haircut I’d never tried before. I looked like a completely different person from the girl I was a year ago, let alone the girl they remembered from twenty-one years in the past. I let out a breath of relief. The idea of time travel was too outlandish. They would never suspect that I was the real Renee Rosenberg. 4 The rest of the meal was painfully awkward. Asher acted as if his earlier lapse had been a figment of my imagination. He played the part of a perfect father, extending his affection for his son to me. He ordered a feast from the kitchen and, aside from his relentless probing into my past, his conversation was that of any normal parent meeting their child’s partner. “Why aren’t you eating the shrimp?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “Is it not to your taste?” I was severely allergic to shrimp. One bite, and my lips would swell up. After Amelia, the real heiress, returned, she had once peeled a shrimp and tried to force-feed it to me. I had obliged her, making a scene as she’d hoped, but she hadn’t gotten away unscathed. I’d poured the rest of the shrimp and the sauce all over her designer dress. Of all the dishes on the table, why did he have to mention the one thing I loathed? As I was trying to come up with an excuse, Alex smoothly intervened. “She had some grapes earlier at home. They don’t mix well with shrimp.” Asher stared at us for a long moment, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips. He didn’t ask any more questions I couldn’t answer. Before we left, as was customary, Asher gave me a red envelope with money. As I stepped forward to take it, it was the first time I had been so close to him all day. Time had been relatively kind. At first glance, he looked much the same as he had twenty years ago, just with a more commanding presence. But up close, I could see the strands of grey in his hair and the fine lines around his eyes. “Do I look much older to you?” he asked suddenly, out of the blue. My heart skipped a beat. “Not at all, sir. You look very young.” His gaze was scrutinizing, but his tone was wistful. “Every time I see you two, I’m reminded of how old I’ve become… I’m not the man I used to be.” His seemingly casual words were laced with subtle tests. I didn’t know what he suspected, or what he wanted. Wasn’t it better for everyone if Renee Rosenberg was dead? That was what they all wanted, wasn’t it? Alex wrapped an arm around my shoulder and bid his father farewell. On the drive home, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, a relaxed smile on his face as he shared his secret. “I’m actually Asher’s adopted son.” After a moment, he asked, “And you? Are you ready to tell me your secret?” I was silent for a long time. Thinking of everything he had done for me, I finally chose to be honest. “I’m from twenty years in the past.” 5 When I was five, I was adopted by the Rosenberg family. They named me Renee. Everyone envied my good fortune, but no one knew that my name, Renee, meant ‘shadow.’ I was nothing more than a shadow of their lost daughter, Amelia, brought in to comfort her grieving mother. Mrs. Rosenberg’s mental state was fragile. On her bad days, I was forced to wear Amelia’s old clothes, my six-year-old face a pale imitation of hers, a comfort object for a broken woman. On her good days, she would fly into a rage at the sight of me. She would stare at me with cold eyes, as if I were the one responsible for her daughter’s disappearance. “Who told you to wear her clothes? Who gave you permission to call me ‘mother’?” “My Amelia is suffering somewhere, while you live in her place, enjoying her life.” The initial joy of being adopted vanished, replaced by a sickening, pale dread. But that wasn’t enough for her. She would rip Amelia’s old clothes off my body and make me stand outside in the courtyard as a punishment, a warning not to harbor any delusions. Mr. Rosenberg would sip his tea, cast a dismissive glance in my direction, and then go inside to console his weeping wife. Snowflakes fell on my shoulders. I clutched my threadbare shirt, and when I turned, I saw Asher Vance. He was only eight, but he carried himself like a miniature adult. He walked past me without a second glance. Mrs. Rosenberg, her composure restored, greeted him with a smile. No one cared about the girl shivering in the corner. To the Rosenbergs, I was a tool, a means of providing comfort to Mrs. Rosenberg whenever she needed it. She would hold me tenderly one moment, and then, in a moment of clarity, shove me to the ground. Only Fluffy, the dog Amelia had left behind, didn’t care about true or false. He would follow me everywhere, his tail always wagging. As I shivered, a warm coat was draped over me. Asher looked down at me. “Auntie Claire wants you to come inside. Don’t hold it against her.” “She just can’t accept that Amelia disappeared right under her nose. She’s really angry at herself.” “Being in the Rosenberg family is a good thing. It’s better than the orphanage, no matter what.” I didn’t resent Mrs. Rosenberg. I was just… disappointed. For a fleeting moment, when they adopted me, I truly believed I had found a family. 6 Mr. Rosenberg provided for my basic needs and even enrolled me in the best school in the city. Compared to that, Mrs. Rosenberg’s intermittent abuse seemed a small price to pay. Asher would sometimes bring me to his house, a temporary refuge from Mrs. Rosenberg’s anger. We grew close. Not exactly childhood sweethearts, but we did grow up together. Perhaps my presence as a substitute did have some effect, or maybe time simply dulled Mrs. Rosenberg’s pain. She gradually became calmer. She even started trying to have another child. My sole purpose in the Rosenberg household vanished, leaving me in an awkward position. Luckily, the Rosenbergs were wealthy enough not to mind supporting an extra, useless person. After their son, Nathan, was born, the once-somber Rosenberg house seemed to come alive again. Even the stern Mr. Rosenberg was often seen smiling. I carefully tried to win them over, using my scholarship money to buy toys for Nathan and gifts of jewelry and tea for his parents. Nathan adored me, and for his sake, Mrs. Rosenberg would even grace me with a smile. It was the most peaceful time of my life. I even began to feel like I was a real part of the family. Until I overheard a conversation between Nathan and his mother. “Mommy, why can’t I call her Sister Renee?” The smile on Mrs. Rosenberg’s face vanished. “Nathan, you must remember, you only have one sister, and her name is Amelia.” “Then what is she?” “She is a thief who stole what wasn’t hers.” It was then that I finally understood the complex emotions swirling in Mrs. Rosenberg’s eyes whenever she saw my report card or saw me asking Asher for help with my homework. The mixture of disgust and sorrow. She must have been thinking that if Amelia were still here, all my achievements would have rightfully been hers. I stood outside the door, listening silently. I had no right to be sad. My mind was already calculating the cost of my years with the Rosenbergs, wondering how long I would have to work to pay them back. In my second year of high school, Amelia, who had been missing for twelve years, was finally found. She looked up timidly, her face an uncanny resemblance to Mrs. Rosenberg’s.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393910”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The call from my mother found me feeding seagulls in the misty coastal town of Seabrook, Oregon. My stepbrother, Ethan, was completely wrapped around the little finger of a conniving vixen of a secretary. Not only was she demanding a ten-million-dollar “pre-nuptial gift,” but she was also on the verge of getting her hands on the entire family fortune, worth hundreds of millions. And me? His stepsister? I was the one that got away—the ghost of a love he could never have. My mother was at her wit’s end. “I’d rather the entire fortune go to you than to some outsider!” I let out a bitter laugh. “Really? Now you remember I’m family?” 1 Ethan and I had been in love. My mother and his father both knew it. But they had branded our relationship a forbidden taboo, nailing it to a cross of shame for all to see. “What makes you think I’d be willing to help you?” I shot back. “You haven’t given a damn whether I lived or died all these years.” Did they honestly believe that after all this time, I was still pining for Ethan? My mother was silent for a long moment. “You always wanted your grandmother’s house in Seabrook, didn’t you? Keep that little fox out of our family, and the house is yours.” A slow smile spread across my lips. “Deal. If she sets one foot in your house, I’ll change my last name to yours, Mom.” My name is Aria Frost. I have my father’s name, not hers. Ethan had always been a fool for love; I knew that better than anyone. When we were young, he’d nearly cut ties with his family for me, starving himself for three days straight in protest. And now, here he was, ready to give away a fortune for his new girlfriend, Jenna. Still, when I saw the scene unfolding in the private dining room—our parents haggling over millions while Ethan anxiously tried to soothe his pouting girlfriend, who had turned her back on him in a huff—an unnameable fire ignited in my gut. Had the idiot’s brain been eaten by dogs? Jenna’s parents made no attempt to hide their greed. “Are we asking for too much, really? It’s not even ten percent of your family’s assets. And our Jenna has been with your son for five years.” My mother tried to reason with them. “We’ve already compromised on the ten million. We’ve agreed to the private jet, the five-star hotel for all your guests. But a hundred grand for every single relative just to ‘welcome her to the family’? What kind of logic is that? Do you think we print money?” Jenna’s mother sniffed dismissively. “Now you’re just being nasty. You think five years of our Jenna’s youth isn’t worth that much?” “Yeah, exactly!” Jenna’s brother chimed in. While the Sterling family fortune was indeed in the hundreds of millions, their liquid cash was only a fraction of that. Coming up with ten million was already a massive stretch. But clearly, it wasn’t enough for them. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, enjoying the show for another moment before giving the door a light rap. All eyes turned as I stepped into the room, a vision in head-to-toe Chanel, clutch in hand, my stilettos clicking sharply on the polished floor. The stalemate was broken. “Sorry to interrupt.” I walked right up to Ethan and Jenna and asked the waiter to bring another chair. Then, I reached out and gently ruffled Ethan’s soft hair. “It’s been a long time, Ethan.” Ten years. His eyes, suddenly red-rimmed, locked onto mine. The boyish immaturity was gone, replaced by the chiseled features of a man. He murmured my name, his voice thick with emotion. “Aria… you’re back.” Jenna’s internal alarms went into overdrive. “Ethan, honey, who is this?” A sly smile touched my lips as I turned to her. “Oh, forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Ethan’s sister, Aria. You know, the stepsister. No shared blood.” Jenna’s eyes are a lot like mine, a fact she seemed to realize in that instant. Like a character in a novel, the stand-in for the real thing, she knew the sudden appearance of the “white moonlight”—the idealized first love—was a threat she couldn’t ignore. Her pout vanished, replaced by a steely resolve. She gently tugged on the still-dazed Ethan’s arm. “Ethan, honey, this is our first time meeting the parents. Since your sister is here, let’s not talk about unpleasant things. Let’s just have a nice family dinner and set a date for the wedding, shall we?” My mother picked up her cue perfectly. “Since the financial arrangements aren’t settled, I don’t think we should rush to set a date. It would be terribly embarrassing to call it off later.” For once, Jenna’s mother agreed. “That’s right. A girl who’s desperate to get married before the money’s even been discussed? What a disgrace.” Jenna looked like she was about to cry, frantically pulling at her mother’s sleeve as if the chance would vanish if they didn’t seize it right now. But her mother didn’t care; that ten million was earmarked for Jenna’s brother to get married. Ethan finally snapped out of his trance, realizing how tense the room had become. He put a protective arm around Jenna and faced me. “Aria… this is my girlfriend, Jenna. No, my fiancée.” Hearing this, Jenna’s mother beamed, seeing the millions back within her grasp. Jenna herself blushed, nestling into his embrace. Her brother, Rick, saw his opening. “Hey, future brother-in-law, my sister mentioned you could get me a job at your company. I was thinking a manager role would be a pretty good fit for me, don’t you think?” My mother and Ethan’s father turned pale with fury. I just smiled sweetly at Ethan and nodded. “He has great taste.” Emboldened by Ethan’s support, Jenna’s confidence returned. “It’s nice to meet you, Aria. I don’t think Ethan’s ever mentioned having a sister. Ethan, darling, how could you keep such a beautiful sister a secret from me?” “I wasn’t around the family much. Kids forget things,” I said, my voice light but my eyes cold as I propped my chin on my hand. “Still, not inviting me to something as big as your wedding? That’s not very nice of you, Ethan.” His brow furrowed, his expression turning cold. “It wasn’t necessary.” The lovers of yesterday, now facing each other like enemies. My mother stepped in to smooth things over. “Now that Aria’s back, let’s not discuss anything unpleasant. We can talk about the money another time. Tonight, let’s just consider this a welcome-home dinner for Aria.” And just like that, what was meant to be an engagement dinner became my welcome-home party. Ethan looked thoroughly pissed off. My stepfather glared at him, looking like he was about to throttle his own son for siding with these vultures. 2 It wasn’t always like this between us. When my mother first divorced, I was sent to live with my father. He remarried, and every dollar spent on me became a new battleground between him and my stepmother. I scrimped and saved, but it was never enough. One day, my father, head bowed in defeat, said to me, “Aria, can you please stop causing me so much trouble?” So I moved into the school dorms, working odd jobs after class. But in high school, time was scarce, and the few dollars I earned never lasted. On hungry days, I filled my stomach with water. One day, I collapsed from chronic malnutrition. The school called my mother. She flew into a rage, calling my father every name in the book. By then, she had remarried and found herself with a rebellious teenage son. With her and her new husband busy building their business, they were exhausted by the boy’s antics. That’s when they remembered me, the daughter neither parent seemed to want. They offered me living expenses in exchange for “looking after my brother.” And so, I moved into the Sterling household, an outsider with a flimsy title. I was only two years older than Ethan, and at first, he refused to listen to a word I said. He’d go to an internet café for all-nighters, and I’d sit at the computer next to him, silently doing my homework. He’d try to go clubbing, and I’d grab his collar and physically block his way. After a while, he couldn’t take it anymore and exploded at me. Tears streamed down my face as I screamed back, “You think I want to do this? You have parents who love you, but I don’t! If it weren’t for the money, I wouldn’t give a damn about you!” He was just a freshman, all swagger and bravado, trying to act tough but with no real malice in his heart. Seeing me cry, he became flustered. “Hey, don’t cry. I won’t go, okay? Fine. From now on… I’ll be the one to look after you.” From that day on, I discovered my secret weapon. Whenever I cried, Ethan would become putty in my hands. His friends would tease him. “Dude, you’re so whipped. You’re gonna be terrified of your future wife.” Ethan would just grin and shoot back, “What’s it to you? You’re just jealous I have a gorgeous sister.” Over time, something shifted between us. I don’t know who fell first. The love of youth is a fierce, untamable thing. Maybe it was because, after a lifetime of being treated as a burden, I finally tasted sweetness. Or maybe it was the way he’d always be waiting for me under the streetlight on my walk home, his voice warm as he called me “sister.” Our shadows tangled together under the blazing sun, our eyes holding a raw, unfiltered affection. I don’t remember who reached out first, a tentative, searching gesture. The air crackled, thick with a tantalizing, unspoken dare, stealing the very breath from our lungs and leaving our faces flushed crimson. I was utterly captivated by him. Then, one afternoon, as we were walking home from school, our fingers intertwined, I looked up and saw my mother. Her eyes were daggers. A chill shot through me, and I snatched my hand away from his. Our love was murdered in its cradle. My mother, sobbing, screamed that I was a temptress, a vixen seducing her own brother. She hit me, her nails leaving bloody tracks across my skin, her slaps leaving my face burning and red. I didn’t fight back. Ethan was locked in his room. But a love worth dying for requires a courage I didn’t have. After I graduated, I left without a word. I abandoned Ethan to his hunger strike, to his silent war with our parents. In that battle, I was the deserter. I applied for a working holiday visa and went to Australia alone. I worked day and night, saving enough for my entire college tuition and living expenses. The only contact I had with my mother was a brief reply to her annual birthday text. “Why did you come back?” After the welcome-home dinner, Ethan drove me back. I was in the back seat, my eyes closed. “How could I miss your wedding? You are my brother, after all. At least, in name.” I said it with a playful smile. Ethan’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath before finally asking, “Have you been okay all these years?” “Fantastic,” I replied. “I recently opened a boba shop in Seabrook.” The car screeched to a halt at a red light. “You’re leaving again?” He turned to face me, his eyes intense. I smiled faintly. “Of course. This isn’t my home, after all.” My tone shifted. “But… your fiancée. She seems to be more in love with your money than with you, don’t you think?” Ethan’s gaze was steady, his voice low. “I would give the woman I love anything she desires, as long as I have it to give.” “Is that so? Then would you mind changing the woman you love?” His breath hitched. “Don’t joke around… sister.” His voice cracked. “You were the one who ran. We promised… we promised no one would run.” He was lost in the memory, his eyes glistening. “But you left anyway.” My smile vanished. “Ethan, how long has it been? Ten years?” His voice was firm. “3841 days.” The number stunned me. A wave of guilt washed over me, and I had to look away. “3841 days… and you’re about to get married. I’m glad. I’m glad you’ve moved on.” He let out a hollow, absurd laugh, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. I’ve moved on.” The silence in the car was deafening, broken only by the roar of the engine. 3 After my return, Ethan avoided the house for over a week, making sure our paths wouldn’t cross. Tsk. I shook my head, trying to clear it. I couldn’t let him mess with my focus. “Finally decided to come home?” my mother greeted Ethan as he walked through the door after work. She took his briefcase and guided him to the dining table. “Perfect timing. Your sister cooked. Come and try.” Ethan knew my mother and his father disliked Jenna, which was why he’d never brought her home. His eyes scanned the beautifully arranged dishes on the table. He picked up a piece of meat and put it in his mouth. Suddenly, he froze, a distant look in his eyes. I chose that moment to emerge from the kitchen, wearing an apron and holding a spatula. “What’s wrong, little bro? It’s been a while since you’ve had my cooking. You missed it, didn’t you?” He looked at me and simply nodded, silently shoveling food into his mouth. Back when I lived with them, our parents were rarely home. I was the one who always cooked for Ethan, and I’d gotten pretty good at it. I knew he missed my food. “Eat slowly,” my mother said softly from the side. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, but inside, the atmosphere was warm, almost like we had traveled back in time to the days before everything fell apart. Ethan’s phone buzzed. He answered it, his brow instantly knitting into a frown. “What is it? Trouble at work?” his father asked. Ethan shook his head. “Mom, Dad… Aria. I have to go out for a bit. Jenna’s working late at the office and she doesn’t have an umbrella. I need to go pick her up.” My mother slammed her chopsticks on the table. “That little vixen again.” I knew she’d react that way. Ethan said nothing. I just went to the hall closet, pulled out an umbrella, and handed it to him. “Go on. I’m here.” That’s how the idealized first love should act, right? Gentle and understanding. Even if my chest was aching with a familiar, sour jealousy. It was one in the morning, and Ethan still wasn’t back. I was slouched on the sofa, binge-watching a K-drama. I was long past the age of starry-eyed romance, but here I was, my heart still skipping a beat for some fictional pure love. The front door creaked open. I saw a familiar figure, completely soaked. “You’re back?” I asked casually. “You had the car, how did you get so drenched?” Ethan started, clearly not expecting me to still be up. For once, he answered obediently. “Jenna said… walking home in the rain was… romantic.” I snorted with laughter. There’s a fine line between pure love and pure stupidity. “Go take a hot shower and get some rest.” I reached for the umbrella in his hand to put it away, but a heavy weight suddenly collapsed against me. I felt the heat radiating from his body. I pressed my hand to his forehead. He was burning up. He’s been this much trouble since he was a kid. I summoned all my strength to drag him onto the sofa, then wrapped him in a dry towel. The wet clothes clinging to his skin were obviously uncomfortable. I gently patted his cheek. “Wake up. Change your clothes. Dry yourself off.” He was delirious with fever, but thankfully, he was compliant. Once he was settled, I prepared some medicine and held the cup to his lips. “Drink this. I’ll leave after you finish. Then you go to your room, okay?” At my words, his rebellious streak resurfaced. He grabbed my wrist, his eyes wide and glassy. “Don’t go.” I couldn’t pull away. “I’m not going far, I’m just going to my room to sleep.” He started murmuring, lost in his fever dream. “Aria, don’t go. Don’t leave me. Don’t abandon me. How could you abandon me?” A sudden sting pricked my nose. I leaned in and gently hugged him, patting his back. “I won’t leave you again, Ethan.” How could I ever bear to leave him? But back then… if he had come with me… I had nothing to offer. That night, the cold, distant Ethan from the daytime vanished, replaced by a vulnerable boy who cried and clung to me, his obedience almost painfully sweet. By the time his fever finally broke, dawn was streaking the sky. I had fallen asleep slumped over the edge of the sofa. When I woke up, I was in my bed. Ethan was gone, having woken up sometime earlier and slipped away. He was probably mortified by his behavior last night. I smiled to myself. Looks like the fire I’ve started isn’t burning hot enough just yet. 4 The next day, Ethan acted as if nothing had happened. He coolly informed my mother that Jenna wanted to try on wedding dresses that afternoon. My mother gave me a little push. “Aria should go too. To help you two decide.” Ethan’s gaze flickered towards me, dark and unreadable. I forced myself to stand, offering a dry laugh. “Oh, right. I should go get some ideas. Might be useful when I get married someday.” “You’d look beautiful in a wedding dress, Aria,” Ethan said, his voice flat. “I wonder who’ll be the lucky guy to marry you.” He turned and left. I exchanged a look with my mother. Oh yes, the air was thick with jealousy. At the bridal boutique, Jenna waved excitedly at Ethan. Her face fell the moment she saw me. “Aria? Why are you here?” I waved back, my expression perfectly innocent. “My mom sent me. To help you two choose.” Jenna shot me a glare, but I simply linked my arm through Ethan’s, acting as if we were the ones getting married. A ghost of a smile played on Ethan’s lips. “Let’s go.” Jenna hurried to keep up. She had the consultant bring out the dress she’d reserved and twirled for Ethan. “Do you like it?” she cooed. He nodded, and she beamed, taking the dress into the fitting room. “Aren’t you going to try one on?” Ethan asked, looking at me. Before I could answer, he motioned for a consultant, who returned with a dress and placed it in my arms. It was a long, elegant fishtail gown. “Go on,” he said, his voice low. “Try it on.” Holding the dress, I was thrown back in time. I saw myself as a teenager, my hair in a high ponytail, pointing excitedly at a fishtail dress in a shop window. “When I get married,” I’d told him with a laugh, “I want to wear a dress like that. It’s like it was made for a mermaid.” When the curtain was drawn back, Jenna was already posing, having the consultant snap photos of her. Ethan had changed into a suit. As he came out, I stepped forward and instinctively straightened his collar. His eyes found mine and held them. For a moment, we were locked in our own world, a teenage dream finally realized in a way we never could have imagined. The consultant walked over, beaming. “You two look absolutely perfect together! Such a handsome couple. Let me take a picture for you.” Jenna rushed over, grabbing Ethan’s arm and shattering the moment. “I’m his fiancée,” she snapped. The consultant stammered an apology. “Oh, I’m so sorry, my mistake.” Fuming, Jenna said, “Let’s go, Ethan. We’re not getting our photos done at this shop.” I leaned towards the consultant and whispered, “Sorry about that. We’re not a couple. But maybe when I do get married, I’ll come back and have you take my pictures.” Jenna saw that Ethan’s gaze was still fixed on me. She let out a sudden gasp and crouched down, pretending to rub a sore ankle. “Ethan, honey, my foot hurts. Carry me.” That finally broke his trance. He moved to pick her up, but as he did, he looked back over his shoulder, his eyes boring into mine. I chuckled under my breath. “Tsk, what a player.” But I knew, deep down, I had an advantage she never would. I was the one he truly loved. It was only a matter of time.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393927”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Just because my wife’s new favorite, Jack, wanted to see some jet ski action, Isabel planned the entire company retreat at a secluded resort on the Atlantic coast. Jack suggested a jet ski race for everyone, but having just had a liver transplant, all I wanted was to go back to the hotel and rest. Isabel flew into a rage. “It’s just one race. Are you really going to humiliate me in front of the whole company?” Shaking with anger, I slammed my fist against the jet ski. “Have you forgotten how precious this new liver is?” Isabel froze for a second, then immediately softened, handing me a thermos of warm broth. “I’m sorry, Neo. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll take you back.” But when I woke up again, I found myself strapped to a jet ski, floating over a bed of massive, jagged reefs. The next second, Jack gunned the engine. I was flung into the churning waves, my body half-submerged in the violent sea. Choking on saltwater, I frantically pressed the emergency button on my watch. “Dad,” I gasped into the device, “get the Coast Guard to lock down this entire area. Someone is trying to kill me, and I want them to pay.” 2 Jack just laughed, turning to Isabel. “So, what’s Neo’s dad do? He sounds like a big shot!” Isabel didn’t answer, but her assistant doubled over with laughter. “His dad’s just a retired old man. Spends his days bird-watching in the park.” She even mimicked looking through a pair of binoculars. The group on the shore erupted in laughter. Jack wrapped an arm around Isabel’s waist, looking smug. “He only had a liver transplant, not brain surgery. Why’s he starting to talk nonsense?” “Oh, let’s just get him back,” he added with false concern. “We wouldn’t want to actually scare him to death.” Isabel chimed in immediately. “See how kind and considerate Jack is? Not like some people, who get one little surgery and act like a total princess.” I gripped the jet ski’s handlebars, ignoring their mockery. Massive waves crashed over me, making the machine buck violently. Nausea rose in my throat. The safety strap dug into my incision, but I could only grit my teeth and hold on. I clung to the handles, screaming toward the shore. “Isabel! I just had surgery! My wound hasn’t healed! This is dangerous!” A wave slapped me across the face. “Don’t you remember? I’m terrified of the water!” The memory flooded back. A college trip to the beach. Isabel had been collecting shells and was swept away by a rogue wave. Without a second thought, I had jumped in, fighting the current to drag her back to shore. I remember her kneeling on the sand, drenched and sobbing, clinging to my hand like a child. “Neo, you saved my life! I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you!” After that day, I developed a crippling phobia of water. I couldn’t even get into a bathtub. The vow from that day echoed in my ears, a bitter, hollow joke. Now, I was helpless, tossed about by the waves, while the woman I had saved was laughing in another man’s arms on the shore. I felt like my heart was going to beat its way out of my chest. Isabel’s face grew darker, clearly furious that my “uncooperative” behavior was embarrassing her. Jack quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, smoothing things over. “Oh, come on. Neo’s just a little timid! A few more practice runs and he’ll get the hang of it! You’re always saying how capable he is, just that he lacks a young man’s nerve. Today’s the perfect chance for him to learn!” Jack’s fawning words made my stomach churn. Ever since Jack joined Isabel’s company, he had become her gold standard for what a “real man” should be. Day after day, she’d lecture me: “Look at how amazing Jack is! He’s a shark at work and knows how to handle people. You should learn from him!” She seemed to have forgotten that when she was chasing me, she used to say, “I love how calm and quiet you are. You’re not like those other macho guys.” Now, all my supposed virtues had become flaws that needed fixing. Another wave slammed into the jet ski, throwing me violently. The machine pitched forward, and my chest crashed into the hard console. A sharp, blinding pain shot from my chest through my entire body. “Aaargh—” I screamed, a cold sweat instantly drenching me. My hands trembled as I tried to steady the machine, but another monster wave hit, nearly flipping it vertical. 3 Isabel’s colleagues stood on the shore, smirking as they yelled out to me. “Hey, boss! Isn’t this exciting? Having fun?” “Wow, you’re so brave for a first-timer! Amazing!” Jack, still clinging to Isabel’s arm, called out in a sickeningly sweet voice, “How’s it feel, Neo? Isn’t it just the best?” Isabel stared at me with cold disgust. “It’s the same thing at every company event. It’s either too sunny or too tiring. Now we give you a chance to have some fun and you act like a coward. You’ll never fit in.” She turned to Jack. “See? This is the difference. The first time you tried this, you were fearless. Not a buzzkill like him.” Jack sighed with faux sympathy. “Oh, well. Maybe he’s just a little timid. But that won’t do. There are plenty more company events to come. He can’t just hide in his hotel room every time, can he?” The pain in my wound was a twisting agony, like a knife being turned in my gut. A warm liquid, my own blood, trickled from the incision, mixing with the seawater. Every jolt tore at the stitches, the pain so intense that my vision started to black out. I stretched a trembling hand toward the shore, my voice a hoarse rasp. “Isabel, stop it! I don’t know how to drive this! Which one is the brake?! My stomach… it hurts so much. The stitches are going to tear!” My face was as white as a sheet, my body soaked in a cold sweat. But Isabel just watched, a mocking smile playing on her lips. Jack hesitantly tugged on her arm. “Maybe we should stop? He is injured, after all. If this keeps up, something bad might really happen.” He pretended to plead for me, but a smirk he couldn’t control danced on his lips, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. Isabel snorted. “He’s scared now? Where was this attitude earlier? He needs to be taught a lesson, get that stick out of his ass! Always acting so high and mighty.” Another wave crashed down, slamming me against the edge of the jet ski. A jolt of pain made my vision go black, and I could feel warm blood gushing from the wound. Jack’s eyes lit up. He clapped his hands together. “This is getting boring just watching!” He pulled several high-pressure water guns from a bag. “Let’s play a game! Whoever hits Neo with the water gun gets a big reward!” “A thousand dollars for a shot to the chest!” he added excitedly. The colleagues around him cheered and eagerly grabbed the water guns. 4 Weakly, I looked at them and pleaded with Isabel one more time. “Isabel… you make me those special broths every day to help me heal. You said we’d go hiking as soon as I was better.” Cold sweat and tears streamed down my face. “Last week, at my check-up, the doctor said the transplant was a success. You said you’d take me to see the Grand Canyon once I recovered.” Isabel’s expression darkened, and her voice softened. “Maybe we should stop? This game is stupid anyway.” She turned away, avoiding my gaze, her tone uncertain. “Let’s play something else?” Jack threw his water gun down, his face thunderous. “Isabel! What is this? You’re backing out on me again?” He kicked the water gun on the ground. “Forget it! And you can forget about the company’s bid this year, too!” Isabel panicked, grabbing his wrist. “No, no, no, I was just talking.” She forced a placating smile. “Let’s keep playing, okay? We’ll keep playing.” Jack shook her off, his eyes narrowing. “Forget it! I’m not in the mood anymore!” He turned to leave. Isabel, her forehead beaded with sweat, rushed to hug him from behind. “Jack, don’t be like this.” She cooed at him, completely forgetting about me, still stranded in the sea. The twisting pain in my wound intensified. I could feel my life slipping away. Isabel quickly pulled out the keys to a luxury sports car she had prepared. “Baby, don’t be mad. I bought this just for you!” Jack’s eyes lit up, but he still played hard to get. “Is this really for me?” “Of course, it’s for you!” Isabel quickly had someone bring the car around. “It’s the one you wanted!” Jack caressed the keys, finally smiling. “Now, that’s more like it.” He shot a smug glance at me, still adrift in the water. “So… is the game back on?” Isabel took the hint immediately, eager to please. “Of course! We’ll play however you want!” She turned and shouted at me, “Did you hear that? You better cooperate!” The pain in my abdomen was so severe I could barely speak. On the shore, the two of them had already picked up their water guns again, ready for the next round of their “game.” High-pressure streams of water shot toward me. The icy jets hit my wound, and the pain sent a wave of blackness over my eyes. “Isabel! Why?” I curled into a ball on the jet ski, my voice a ragged whisper. “Why are you doing this to me?” Isabel glanced back impatiently. “What do you know! Jack is the heir to the Sterling Corporation! If I make him happy, his father will throw some money our way, and our company can finally go public!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393944”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My roommate, Bella, told me she was pregnant. I almost died laughing. I was about to tease her—how could she be pregnant when she didn’t even have a boyfriend? But then, a line of scrolling text floated across my vision. [Whatever you do, don’t contradict her!] [Your roommate is a rabbit spirit. If you expose her phantom pregnancy, she’ll eat you!] 1 [It’s no use telling her. She’s dead for sure.] [She just has the worst luck. The heroine happens to be on leave this week; otherwise, she might have been saved.] [But if she’s saved, how does the story start? The whole plot kicks off when the heroine returns to campus, finds her roommate’s death suspicious, and begins her investigation and monster-hunting.] [I remember this first story arc being especially brutal. The rabbit spirit devours almost all the flesh from the body.] My eyes instinctively darted to Bella, who was stroking her belly with a look of tender anticipation. Then, I pulled out my phone and Googled: Do rabbits eat meat? The search results were a long-winded mess of fluff. The gist of it was: if they’re curious, they might take a nibble, but their systems can’t handle it. Too much will kill them. See? I knew it. Rabbits are herbivores. Eating people? Total nonsense. A series of ellipses drifted across the screen. [Seriously, what is with her thought process? The main point is whether rabbits eat meat?] [You should be more concerned about the fact that she just looked up, right at us.] [Are you saying she can see the comments? And she trusts Google over us? Did we not make it sound scary enough, or is this girl a complete idiot?] [Yo, you rhymed. You a rapper?] I shot bolt upright, my eyes flicking upward again. Holy crap. Normal people can’t see this text, can they? But I could. [Sweetie, if you can really see this, listen to your big sis: don’t. poke. the. bear. Do not tell her she isn’t pregnant!] [I just saved your life. You’re welcome.] [It’s no use. This is the opening act. She’s destined to…] Before I could read the rest, my arm was yanked hard. Bella had somehow appeared beside me, and she was pressing my hand against her stomach. “Kelly, I was talking to you. Why are you ignoring me?” “Here, feel my baby. It’s kicking.” 2 Feel what in that flat-as-a-board stomach? I swallowed the sarcastic remark that was on the tip of my tongue and forced a dry smile as I patted her belly. “When the baby’s born, you’ll be the godmother…” Bella’s daydream was cut short by a cold scoff. From the top bunk, Tori sat up, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Bella, if you’re sick, go see a doctor, seriously.” “I’ve been putting up with this for long enough. You’ve been going on about being pregnant all week, but your period literally just ended three days ago. Are you having your period and a pregnancy at the same time?” The gentle expression on Bella’s face froze. I watched as she slowly, deliberately, turned her head, the bones in her neck letting out a sickening series of cracks. It was after lights-out in the dorm, and the only illumination came from a small desk lamp. So Tori probably didn’t see it. Bella’s head was now facing Tori, but her feet were still pointed at me. Her voice was ice. “Are you saying… I’m not pregnant?” A bone-deep chill crawled up my spine. My gut and the scrolling comments were screaming the same thing: the moment Tori opened her mouth again, it was over. I shot to my feet, throwing myself in front of Tori, who was climbing down from her bunk, ready for a fight. I clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t say another word! Just shut up!” But she was already worked up. She shoved me aside. “Bella, what’s with the tone? Are you threatening me?” “You’re not pregnant! And you can’t be pregnant!” “Could you please stop playing the little expectant mother in our dorm room?” The comments flew across my vision. [It’s over.] [Told you she couldn’t be saved! The plot has to move forward, and someone has to say the lines.] [Kelly, run! Your roommate is a lost cause, but you can still save yourself!] [Just don’t watch her have the ‘miscarriage.’] 3 Wait, how do you have a miscarriage from a fake pregnancy? My brain short-circuited. I abandoned all attempts at logic and decided to just listen. If I could see phantom text and my roommate was a monster whose head could spin 180 degrees, then anything was possible. Run! My body moved faster than my brain. I grabbed Tori’s arm, trying to bolt, but she wrenched me back. “Kelly, what the hell is your problem? Telling me to shut up, taking her side?” Her grip was like a vise. I twisted my wrist, trying to break free, but she didn’t budge. What was I supposed to do? Bella was staring daggers at me. I couldn’t exactly say, She’s about to eat us. “Bella’s acting like a total psycho! Last night, I heard her cooing to a baby in her bed, you know that?” “It was two in the morning! First, she was mimicking a crying baby, then she was shushing it like a mother. It was creepy as hell!” “And her bed! Come look!” Tori was an athlete. During our freshman orientation hike, she was at the front of the pack while I was dying in the back. Now, holding me was like holding a chicken. She dragged me to Bella’s bed, which was hidden behind a curtain. Tori reached in and pulled out a huge, tangled clump of hair. “She’s been pulling out her own hair, and mine, you know that?” “Every night, in the middle of the night, she whispers my name. If I don’t answer, she reaches over and yanks out my hair! Tell me she’s not sick in the head!” Tori was filled with anger, but I was filled with a creeping dread. Though the hair was a tangled mess, I could see distinct strands that had been pulled out in clumps, one handful at a time. I could almost hear the sound of hair being ripped from a scalp. First, the soft rustle of friction, then a series of sharp, tearing pops. [FYI, this is a rabbit gathering fur to build a nest.] [This is genuinely terrifying! If I were the roommate, I’d be losing my mind too. This conflict is actually pretty well-written.] [Stop analyzing and run! Save yourself! This girl is not listening!] I tried! My arm is turning purple! I can’t get away! 4 [Too late. She’s not getting out of here.] [Remember, don’t look. Whatever you do, don’t look. The second you look, you die.] [Just try to hold out. Your best bet is to survive until the heroine gets back tomorrow.] Suddenly, a low moan came from behind us. It was Bella. It was followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor. Tori tried to turn, but I grabbed her head and held it steady. A comment flashed by, telling me to forget my roommate, that a side character was beyond saving. But to them, Tori was just a plot device, a disposable character. To me, she was my roommate, someone I saw every day, someone who, despite being blunt, had a good heart. My voice trembled. “Bella’s dead. It’s past midnight, this is the witching hour for her ghost. If you make eye contact, we’re both finished. So no matter what you hear, do not look at her.” Tori frowned, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. Dammit. I’d just spun a story that was, in theory, more believable than my roommate is a rabbit-monster who eats people. Why wouldn’t she believe me? Splat. Splat. The wet, sticky sound moved closer, fast. A pair of bloody hands clamped around my ankle and Tori’s. We both instinctively looked down. Bella’s eyes were blood-red, staring at us with pure, venomous hatred. “You see? Do you see now?” “My baby is gone.” A long, smeared trail of blood stretched out behind her. Her body was covered in it, making her look utterly horrifying. I sucked in a sharp breath. Fear finally flickered in Tori’s eyes. The next second, Bella’s expression crumpled into one of fragile agony. She pleaded in a tear-choked voice, “My stomach hurts so much. Please, take me to the hospital.” She held a weak hand out to us. Tori, petrified, was being pulled down, about to bend over and help her. [The rabbit spirit eats the face first.] [The moment her head is down, she’s a goner. It’s like a free meal delivery.] 5 [I can’t watch. Are they gonna censor it when she takes a bite?] I shrieked, kicking Bella square in the face, and yanked Tori with me as we scrambled out the door. Even as we fled, Tori’s mind was still processing. “Did Bella really have a miscarriage? Because of what I said?” “We should call 911. She lost so much blood…” She actually started to turn back. I was losing my mind. This wasn’t just being clueless; this was a whole other level of disconnection from reality. I finally snapped, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her, trying to rattle the water out of her brain. “Are you dense? No normal person loses that much blood and just gets up! They’d be dead or in shock!” “You’re the one who said she was acting weird! You called her a psycho! Why are you trying to go back?” Tori stared at me, her expression just as bewildered. “I hate that she’s acting crazy, but that doesn’t mean I’d leave her to die.” “You’re the one being weird! She’s bleeding out and you kicked her! If she dies, you’re going to jail!” Then it hit me. Tori’s strength was her unshakable rationalism. She didn’t read fantasy or horror; she was a devout skeptic. Faced with something this supernatural, my first thought was ghosts and monsters. Her first thought would always be psychotic break. As we stood there deadlocked, Tori suddenly raised a hand and wiped her face. A smear of red stung my eyes. I slowly lifted my head, swallowing hard. “If Bella could climb onto the ceiling… would you believe she’s a monster then?” 6 Maybe it was the sheer terror frozen on my face, but Tori followed my gaze upward. Bella was clinging to the ceiling like some kind of spider. Her four limbs were splayed against the walls, and her head swiveled towards us with a series of sickening cracks. That familiar, 180-degree turn. Her irises and sclera were gone, replaced by a solid, bloody red that filled her entire eye sockets. I wasn’t sure if those were the natural red eyes of a rabbit or if they were stained red by her hatred. She stared down at us, the corners of her mouth slowly, unnaturally, changing shape. In horror movies, to build the atmosphere, the monster usually smiles, a grotesque grin stretching from ear to ear, revealing a bloody maw. But not Bella. Her mouth curved downward into a sharp, inverted U, while the other muscles in her face remained completely still. It created a deeply unsettling, discordant wrongness. Tori was trembling uncontrollably. “Holy sh… is this Gonjiam?” She was way scarier than the black-eyed, rapping ghost from that movie. I clasped my hands together, praying to the air. “Please, just tell me a safe place to hide for the night.” I was begging the comments for guidance. Tori thought I had finally cracked. If we had faced this alone, we would have panicked and been torn apart. But with two people, one always ends up taking charge. She tightened her grip on my wrist and broke into a dead sprint. “I know a place we can hide. Come on!” 7 Our dorm building had six floors, and we lived on the top one. Tori pulled me on a frantic dash down the stairs, the thump-thump-thump of our footsteps echoing through the deserted hallway. It was the middle of the night, yet no doors opened, no one yelled at us, and the dorm supervisor was silent. The splat-splat-splat sound followed us relentlessly. I didn’t have to look back to picture Bella crawling along the walls, chasing us. Tori’s speed was incredible. She led me through a series of twists and turns, finally shoving us into an empty dorm room with a loosely latched lock. “Shh! Don’t talk!” We held our breath, pressing our ears against the door to listen. Splat-splat-splat-splat… The sound paused right outside our door for a moment, then continued its rapid descent down the stairwell. We collapsed to the floor, gasping with relief. “If she’s a ghost, does that mean we’re safe once the sun comes up?” Tori whispered. I wasn’t so sure. Because Bella wasn’t a ghost. She was a monster. And monsters don’t care if it’s day or night when they decide to eat. We didn’t need to survive until dawn. We needed to survive until the heroine arrived. Our other roommate, Sabrina, was the heroine the comments mentioned. She’d taken an abrupt leave of absence last week, looking pale and unwell. We’d all assumed there was a family emergency. Our worried texts had gone unanswered. But according to the comments, she had gone home for a “bloodline awakening” to unlock her supernatural sight. The remote mountain home had no cell service. Now, the ritual was complete, and she was on her way back. I desperately dialed her number. Each ring felt like an eternity of torture. Finally, Sabrina’s cool, collected voice answered. “Kelly? What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late?” Tears welled in my eyes as I quickly explained everything that had happened and where we were. “We’re hiding in an empty room on the fourth floor. She didn’t find us.” 8 Tori gestured to me that she needed the bathroom. I nodded. As the terror and adrenaline faded, I realized my own bladder felt fit to burst. Sabrina took a deep breath, her tone turning grave. “After Bella grabbed you, did you wash the blood off?” Blood? I looked down and saw the dried, crusty handprints on my ankles. My breathing grew heavy. Sabrina understood immediately and cursed under her breath. “Wash it off, now! And get out of there!” “As long as her blood is on you, she can find you anywhere.” I’d thought Bella found us before because Tori and I had been arguing too loudly. It was the blood. I scrambled to the small sink in the room, turning on the tap and scrubbing frantically. I called out to Tori, “Get out here and wash the blood off! We have to find another place to hide!” Before Tori could answer, Sabrina cut me off. “You two aren’t together?” “Tori just said she needed the bathroom. I’m in the main room, we’re just…” separated by a single door. Sabrina’s voice was sharp, cutting through my explanation. “There’s no time!” “Tori was the one who exposed her fake pregnancy. Bella hates her the most.” “She probably knew you were in there the whole time. The reason she didn’t come in was because she was waiting for you to split up…” In the back of my mind, I thought I heard a sickening, wet chewing sound coming from the bathroom. The bathroom door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open, and the sight that met my eyes nearly sent me crumpling to the floor. The small room was slick with blood. Tori was slumped on the floor. Her throat had been torn out. Half the skin on her face was peeled away, revealing the raw muscle and gleaming white bone beneath. I clapped a hand over my mouth, tears streaming down my face. She was still alive. She was even conscious. As I opened the door, her one remaining eye swiveled towards me, filled with terror and despair. I saw her mouth moving, forming small, soundless words over and over. Run… fast… I vaguely heard Sabrina shouting in my ear. “Kelly, run!” “Bella’s still in there! Tori is the bait…” A chunk of flesh fell from above. Bella was clinging to the ceiling, a grotesque smile twisting her face as she looked down at me. I stared, mesmerized, at her still-chewing mouth, unable to even scream. How did this happen? [Why isn’t she running?] [She got in touch with the heroine! There was still hope!] [I think she’s in shock.] [Well, that’s it. No hope left.] [Is she blaming herself? That roommate was asking for it. She was never going to make it.] [I told her to run on her own. She didn’t listen, and now look at the mess she’s in.] [Guys, stop. She can see this…] The comments scrolled past, none of them mourning Tori’s death. For them, she was already forgotten. “Kelly!” Sabrina’s voice was a lifeline. “One hour! Hide by yourself for one hour, I’m almost there.” “I’ll take care of her. We’ll get revenge for Tori together!” “So please, please, don’t let anything happen to you.” The instant before Bella lunged at me, I slammed the bathroom door shut. She was trapped, for a moment. I stumbled out of the dorm room and fumbled with the loose lock, snapping it firmly into place. A furious pounding began from inside. My first instinct was to run downstairs, but as my foot hit the first step, I jerked to a halt. Running down is easier than running up. But the main entrance on the first floor was locked every night. I didn’t know the layout down there, didn’t know anyone. If I couldn’t wake the dorm supervisor, I’d be a rat in a trap. “Kelly, go up! Go back to our room! There’s a protective charm under my pillow. Put it on!” I managed a choked “Okay.” [I remember the heroine’s charm was consecrated by her master.] [Right. The heroine’s special constitution made her a target for spirits, but she couldn’t see them to fight back, so her family gave her the charm for protection.] A loud crash echoed from behind me. The dorm room door had been smashed open.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393960”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day before I was due home from a business trip, a new entry popped up on my weight-tracking app. It was seven pounds lighter than me. I changed my flight and went home immediately. The snack cabinet was half-empty. The stash of Cokes in the fridge was gone, and even the milk had been replaced with strawberry-flavored—a flavor I despise. On the coffee table sat a few bags of strawberry cookies, something my husband and I never eat. I dialed his number. “Who’s been over?” After a month away, it felt like someone else had been living in my home. There was a distinct pause on his end. “…Drake brought his girlfriend over yesterday for a bit. Why? Is something wrong?” “It’s nothing,” I said softly and hung up. Then, I opened the Instagram of Drake’s girlfriend. Her latest post screamed at me from the screen: 【OMG! Does anyone else have a strawberry allergy?! The smell alone makes me want to puke! I CAN’T STAND IT!!】 …

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393976”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After a year of business trips overshadowing our marriage, I guiltily planned an anniversary surprise—only to find our estate packed with guests. A crimson banner gleamed: “WELCOME THE NEWEST SUTTON HEIR!” Mom and Dad had a late miracle, I mused, until an unfamiliar guard barked: “No invitation, no entry. Get lost!” Then I saw him. My husband Trevor cradling a baby, kissing my spoiled adopted sister Jessica on the red carpet. My parents beamed at them. A bitter laugh tore from my throat. The “heir” wasn’t my sibling. It was my husband’s love child—and I’d just become a mother by betrayal. 1 “Hey! Stop right there!” The unfamiliar guard stepped in front of my car, his eyes dripping with disdain. “Who do you think you are, trying to barge in here? This is a private estate.” “Now get this piece of junk out of the driveway before I have it towed!” I was baffled. My assistant, Sarah, looked equally confused. She rolled down the window. “Open the gate immediately,” she said, her voice crisp. “And inform everyone that Ms. Sutton has returned.” The guard looked at her as if she’d told the funniest joke in the world. He snorted, a look of pure contempt on his face. “You’re Ms. Sutton? And I’m the King of England. Get out of here before I call the cops on you for trespassing.” He waved a dismissive hand. “We’re celebrating a happy occasion today. We don’t have time for beggars like you.” I was speechless, a hot flush of anger rising in my chest. This estate was my marital home. I’d been overseas for a year securing financing, and in my absence, they had hired this vulgar oaf? My brow furrowed. “You’re fired,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “The Sutton family does not employ people who judge others by their appearance.” Sarah nodded, pulling out her phone. “I’m calling HR now. The guard at the suburban estate is to be terminated immediately. Find someone with a working pair of eyes. I don’t want any more strays guarding the gate.” The guard’s face went rigid with panic. He lunged, snatching Sarah’s phone and smashing it on the asphalt. “Don’t push your luck, you crazy bitch! You really want to keep this act up?” he snarled, his face red with fury. He grabbed my car door. “This is the christening for President Sutton’s daughter! You think you can waltz in here without an invitation, pretending to be some rich lady?” “Fire me? Ha! I’m about to have you arrested!” He yanked Sarah out of the car before she could react. She struggled against his grip. “What nonsense are you talking about? The president has been overseas! There is no child—” I shot out of the car and kicked the guard square in the gut. “Open your damn eyes and see who you’re talking to!” He crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach. “You bitch! You’ll be the one in trouble for assault and impersonating Ms. Sutton!” He was so insistent, so utterly convinced I was an imposter, that a sliver of doubt crept into my mind. Just then, Sarah pointed toward the estate, her voice trembling. “Ma’am… Catherine… look. On the stage. Isn’t that… isn’t that Mr. Grant?” I followed her gaze. Inside, a massive outdoor screen was broadcasting the ceremony live. The stage was drowning in flowers, bathed in brilliant lights. And there he was: Trevor, my husband of one year, holding a baby. He pulled a woman into a possessive embrace. It was my sister, Jessica. She stood on her tiptoes to give him a lingering kiss. “Honey,” she cooed, “you’ve worked so hard on our daughter’s christening!” The sight of their intimacy sent a blaze of fury through me. Sarah gasped. “Ms. Sutton, why is Jessica with Mr. Grant?!” Her question was like gasoline on a fire. The green-eyed monster wasn’t jealousy; it was the realization that my head was now home to a thriving forest of antlers. 2 The wind whipped around me, making the banner’s golden letters dance mockingly. Each word was a slap in the face. It wasn’t my parents adding to the family. It was my good-for-nothing adopted sister, the cuckoo in my nest, who had climbed into my husband’s bed and made me a mother without my consent. The betrayal was one thing. But for her to dare to steal my very identity? I built this family’s fortune. Sutton Enterprises was the culmination of years of my blood, sweat, and tears. I’m gone for one year, and I come back to find my position as President has been usurped? What was next? Would I be thrown out onto the street? This was intolerable. I kicked the groaning guard aside and barked at my assistant, “Sarah, get on your other phone. Call every single shareholder in the company. I want to see who dares to be so insolent to my face.” Fifteen minutes later, a fleet of luxury cars streamed up the driveway. A crowd of familiar, powerful faces emerged. With Sarah at my side and a phalanx of the city’s wealthiest investors surrounding me, I marched straight into my own home. This time, no one dared to stop me. The moment I entered the banquet hall, I saw her. Jessica, holding court, a triumphant smile on her face. Our formidable group immediately caught her attention. Her smile vanished. She slammed her champagne flute down and stormed toward us. “Who are you people? I didn’t invite you! Get out of my house!” “Security! Get these lunatics out of here! Don’t let them ruin my family’s party!” The sheer arrogance of it. A year away, and she had certainly learned how to play the lady of the manor. Her words sent a ripple of outrage through the shareholders. I gave Sarah a look. She stepped forward, her voice ringing with authority. “I’d like to see anyone try.” She gestured to the men and women behind me. “Open your eyes and see exactly who you’re talking to.” One of the shareholders, a grizzled veteran of the board, spoke up, his voice booming with anger. “Indeed! The audacity! We are the primary shareholders of Sutton Enterprises. We are here to celebrate the birth of President Sutton’s child. And who are you to be barking orders at us?” “What President Sutton?” Jessica’s face paled slightly. The shareholder scoffed. “The one and only heir, of course. The President of Sutton Enterprises, Catherine Sutton!” “Catherine Sutton? There’s only one President Sutton, and that’s me, Jessica Sutton!” A flicker of panic crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by a smug confidence. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but if you anger me, you’re making an enemy of the entire Sutton corporation!” Then, her eyes finally focused on me in the center of the crowd. She let out a shriek. “You! How are you back?!” I met her gaze coolly. “Even a three-year-old knows that Catherine Sutton is the president. You claim the title, yet you don’t even recognize the company’s own shareholders. Don’t you find that a little pathetic?” Her face flushed with anger and humiliation. “How do I know they’re real shareholders and not just actors you hired? Catherine, you’re just jealous of me!” A malicious smile touched her lips. “This is my daughter’s christening. Did you bring all these people here to crash it? Too bad for you, dear sister. I’m the one in charge of this family now.” I looked at her, a complex mix of anger and sorrow churning inside me. “Jessica, do Mom and Dad know you’re doing this? Even if everyone else in this family recognizes you, our parents would never stand for this.” 3 At the mention of our parents, a strange, knowing smile spread across Jessica’s face. “Sister, I suggest you take a seat and have a drink. You wouldn’t want to make a scene and embarrass yourself.” My eyes turned cold. “The only person who will be embarrassed is you. Mom and Dad need to know about the stupid things you’ve done. Our family has standards. We don’t tolerate vermin like you.” “Whether you’re tolerated or not,” Jessica sneered, “is not up to you.” “Mom and Dad are busy. It’s best not to disturb them.” “You mean you don’t dare contact them,” I shot back, my voice radiating cold fury. “Today, in front of every major shareholder, you are going to explain exactly what you think you’re doing by impersonating me.” My words ignited the crowd. Murmurs turned to angry shouts. All around us, people were pointing at Jessica, their faces masks of contempt. “Who allowed you to cause such a commotion here?” A deep voice cut through the noise. It was my husband, Trevor, a man I hadn’t seen in a year. He held the baby in his arms, his face a thundercloud of rage as he pushed through the crowd. When he saw my face, he froze, pure panic flashing in his eyes. But then his gaze fell on Jessica, and it was as if he’d found his anchor. His composure returned in an instant. “My wife is the heart of this family,” he announced, his voice cool and arrogant. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out.” He scanned the faces of the shareholders. “Together, my wife and I control thirty percent of this company. That makes her the president. Anyone who defies her is making an enemy of the entire Sutton family.” He looked down his nose at us, radiating an air of untouchable superiority. The shareholders exchanged uneasy glances. No one had expected this. Sarah leaned in, whispering frantically. “Ma’am, Jessica only holds a five percent stake, and Mr. Grant has two percent. How could they possibly…” My face paled as the same question screamed through my mind. It was true. Even if Jessica had bought out some minor shareholders, there was no way she could have amassed thirty percent in such a short time… Unless… An alarm bell shrieked in my head, and a sudden, inexplicable dread seized me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393993”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At sixty-three, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I decided I was done fighting. My plan was simple: wait for my son to come home for Christmas, and then sign over the houses and my savings to him. A final gift. But I waited and waited, and all I got was a phone call. “Mom, we’re stuck in holiday traffic on the freeway. You go ahead and eat, don’t wait for us.” Silence. Just thirty seconds earlier, my ex-husband’s wife, Brenda, had posted their Christmas Eve dinner photo on Facebook. A perfect family portrait. Five smiling faces, raising their glasses to the camera. There was Richard, my ex, and Brenda. And next to them, my son Leo, my daughter-in-law Sophia, and my grandson, Noah. I never thought it would come to this. The son I had raised through hell and high water, the son who was my whole world, was spending Christmas Eve honoring the “father” who hadn’t spent a single day raising him. In that moment, I decided the three houses and the half-million dollars in my name had nothing to do with him anymore. 1 “Mom? Mom, are you there?” Leo’s voice, edged with confusion, crackled through the phone. When I didn’t answer, I heard him mumble to someone beside him, “I think the signal’s bad.” A woman’s voice, sharp with impatience, cut in. “Then just hang up. Richard is your dad. It’s Christmas Eve. Do we really need to report to your mother that we’re having dinner with him?” I recognized the voice. It was Sophia, my daughter-in-law. In the ten years she and Leo had been married, she had never once called me “Mom.” But here she was, calling my ex-husband “Dad” with such easy affection. To her, I was always “your mother” or “Noah’s grandmother.” As she once told me, mothers and daughters-in-law are natural enemies. She wasn’t going to pretend I was her mother, and I shouldn’t bother faking that she was my daughter. My role, in her eyes, was simple: provide support when needed—money, time, whatever—and in return, she would grant me peace. Leo mumbled a vague agreement. He must have slipped the phone into his pocket without ending the call. The voices grew more distant, but I could still make out Sophia’s urgent whisper, “Later, when you toast Dad, don’t forget to mention my brother’s job transfer.” They must have returned to their table, because the background noise swelled into a warm, festive chatter. I listened intently, my heart turning to a block of ice as I heard my own son, Leo, complaining about how I used to stop him from seeing Richard. “If Mom hadn’t gotten in the way for all those years, Sophia and I could have been there for Dad and Brenda long ago!” I knew he was just trying to impress Richard, to play the part of the long-lost, devoted son. But Richard didn’t respond with the tearful father-son reunion Leo was probably hoping for. He just gave a dry little laugh. “Your mother had her reasons.” Sophia, however, jumped to the attack. “Oh, Richard, don’t defend her. She was being completely selfish. No wonder you couldn’t stay married to her!” “Exactly, Dad,” Leo chimed in, his voice gaining confidence. “After all these years, I finally get it. The only reason she fought so hard for custody was so she’d have someone to take care of her in her old age.” The world tilted, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Thirty years. I had raised him all by myself, put him through graduate school. For this? He used to promise me, with all the earnestness of a child, “Mom, when I make it big, I’ll take care of you!” But it turned out, all this time, a seed of resentment had been growing in his heart. He resented me for taking him, for denying him the chance to get close to his powerful, successful “father.” And now, with Richard and Brenda’s biological daughter living permanently overseas, he saw his opening. He was willing to trample all over me to claw his way into Richard’s good graces. What a fool. Richard wouldn’t give him a dime. And now, neither would I. The three houses, the savings—they were no longer his. 2 I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. I hung up the phone and stood, carrying the plates of cold food back to the kitchen to reheat them. Leo’s favorite beef stew. Sophia’s favorite creamy mac and cheese. Noah’s favorite meatballs. I had made each dish just for them. My stomach was acting up, so I picked at a few of the blander vegetables before clearing the table. As I started to wash the dishes, my phone rang again, loud and jarring in the silent house. It was Leo, his voice hesitant. “Mom… did you not hang up earlier? My call log shows a fifteen-minute call…” I kept my voice flat, devoid of emotion. “Really? I didn’t notice. It was quiet on your end, so I just put the phone down and went to heat up dinner.” He let out a small sigh of relief. “Okay, well… Mom, we’re still stuck in this crazy traffic. Looks like we won’t make it until tomorrow.” Suddenly, Noah snatched the phone, his little voice bursting with excitement. “Grandma! Did you buy the iPad?” My eyes fell on the sleek, white Apple box sitting on the coffee table. The last time they visited, for Thanksgiving, I’d bought Noah the newest kids’ smartwatch. But he’d thrown a tantrum, crying that it wasn’t the right brand. He didn’t want some off-brand gadget; he wanted an Apple Watch, like his friends. Sophia had knelt to comfort him, her voice dripping with pity. “Oh, Noah, don’t cry. Grandma meant well, she just… gets confused. It’s okay, Mommy will buy you the watch. How about for Christmas, we ask Grandma to get you an iPad instead?” Her words had stung, but with them visiting so rarely, I didn’t want to make a scene. Now, over the phone, I could hear the smile in Sophia’s voice as she prompted him. “Grandma loves you so much, she definitely already bought it! Right, Noah’s grandma?” I said nothing. On the television, the Christmas Eve special was counting down to midnight. In the background of the call, I heard a sudden burst of laughter and music. Leo quickly made an excuse and hung up. After all, you don’t usually find Christmas parties in the middle of a freeway traffic jam. I opened the square box and started setting up the iPad, following the instruction manual. My best friend, Elaine, had the same one for watching her shows. It would be perfect for passing the time in the hospital. Next to the iPad was another box, smaller and more elegant. This was meant for Sophia. A tiny, expensive jar of night cream the saleswoman at Nordstrom had sworn by. The packaging was ridiculously lavish for such a small container. I unscrewed the lid and smoothed a dab of the thick cream onto my face. I couldn’t tell if it was magic, but it certainly felt better than the ten-dollar moisturizer on my bathroom counter. Finally, there were three thick Christmas cards. Each one had five hundred dollars in crisp bills inside. I emptied them all out. Then I took three twenty-dollar bills and slid one back into each card. That was all they were getting. I could already picture Sophia’s face tomorrow. She’d throw a fit. She’d probably threaten to divorce Leo again. She knew it was my greatest fear, their marriage falling apart, and she used it as a weapon. But this time, it wouldn’t work. 3 I didn’t sleep a wink. The gnawing pain in my stomach had been my constant companion for weeks, chasing away any hope of rest. But tonight, it was sharper than ever. Around seven in the morning, just after a neighbor had stopped by with Christmas cookies, the doorbell rang. It was Leo, with Sophia and Noah in tow. Noah, clutching a small bag of fruit, threw himself into my arms. “Grandma, Merry Christmas! Where’s my present?” Leo smiled from the doorway. “Mom, Noah picked those out especially for you. He knows you love oranges. A little something to wish you a happy and healthy new year.” I took the bag. Six oranges. My mind flashed back to Brenda’s Facebook post. For their Christmas Eve dinner at a fancy restaurant, Leo had brought Richard two bottles of expensive single-malt scotch and a cashmere scarf for Brenda. For me, he brought six oranges. “Grandma, Merry Christmas! Present time!” Noah chanted again, tugging on my sweater. I patted his head and handed him the three cards. They were painfully thin. Sophia’s face fell the second she saw them. But to my surprise, she didn’t say anything. She just nudged Leo with her elbow, and they exchanged a look I couldn’t quite decipher. Noah’s eyes, however, were sharp. He spotted the iPad on the coffee table and scrambled for it. “My iPad!” He pressed the home button, but the screen demanded a passcode. I gently took the device from his hands. “This is for Grandma to use, honey. You can ask your daddy to buy you one.” Noah froze for a second, then his face crumpled. He started wailing, kicking and punching the air. “It’s mine! It’s mine! Grandma promised! Bad Grandma! I hate you!” Sophia rushed to scoop him up, shooting me a dark look. “Honestly,” she muttered, “what does a woman in her sixties even need an iPad for?” I met her gaze, my voice calm and steady. “What, am I too close to the grave to learn something new?” Leo stepped in, trying to smooth things over. “Mom, come on, that’s not what Sophia meant. It’s just that the Apple system can be tricky. I can get you a different tablet, something simpler.” “No, thank you. I like this one. And don’t worry, I’ll figure it out myself. I won’t need your help.” Leo was speechless. He shot Sophia a look, gesturing for her to take Noah to the bathroom to clean his tear-streaked face. Now we were alone. “Mom,” he began, his voice low. “You’re angry that I went to Dad’s for dinner last night, aren’t you?” I didn’t answer. He was smart; he knew my sudden chilliness meant the lie about the traffic jam hadn’t worked. Leo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Mom, I know it wasn’t the right thing to do, but I didn’t have a choice! It’s tough out there, trying to make a living. Dad… he’s got money, connections. He can make things happen with a single phone call. I don’t understand why you’re so against me getting close to him. “His and Brenda’s daughter is living abroad now. It’s Christmas. They’re lonely. They want family around. Don’t you see what an opportunity this is for me? Can’t you just think about me for once?” He was getting agitated, a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. My voice was quiet, cutting through his tirade. “And you think he wants you close to him?” Leo flinched, a flicker of shame crossing his face. “Well, that’s your fault, isn’t it? If you hadn’t fought for custody, he wouldn’t be so distant with me now!” He took a deep breath, and the resentment poured out of him. “Mom, I know you sacrificed a lot for me. For a long time, I thought you were this great, noble mother. But when I really think about it, you were the selfish one! You know that saying people use online? ‘Don’t have kids if you’re broke’? You had no money, so why did you fight to keep me? “You got to have a son, you got your retirement plan all set. But do you have any idea how much I struggled growing up with you? If I’d been with Dad, I’d be the one living in Europe right now! “Mom, you’ve held me back for so many years. I’m begging you, please… just stop dragging me down.” He pressed his palms together, his voice cracking with a desperate, pleading hiss. 4 A deafening roar filled my head. I stared at Leo. He was a stranger to me. His eyes were filled with a mixture of frustration and raw, undiluted hatred. The heater was blasting warm air, but my hands and feet had turned to ice. When Richard and I divorced, he had been the one at fault, but his family’s lawyers had cleaned me out. I was left with nothing but Leo and my parents’ old, rundown house. Leo was barely a year old then, a tiny thing who knew nothing except how to wave his chubby fists and babble “Ma-ma.” I made a vow to him, to myself, that I would never let him want for anything. I worked my office job during the day and waited tables at night, killing myself to make ends meet. When Leo wanted to take art classes, then tennis lessons, I found a way. When he was in middle school, he mentioned offhandedly how he wished we lived in a real apartment building, not our shabby little house. I lay awake all night, and the next day, I drained my savings for a down payment. In high school, he needed tutoring for calculus and physics. He didn’t want group classes; he wanted a private tutor. The cost was double, but I thought, my son is ambitious, he’s trying to better himself. I can’t be the one to hold him back. I hired the best tutor I could find. Then he went off to college. My parents’ old property was finally bought out by developers, and I was given three small condos in return. My mother sold one and insisted the rent from the other two be sent to my account. I made sure Leo had a generous allowance, terrified he’d feel ashamed or left out among his wealthier classmates. For thirty years, I may not have given him a life of luxury, but I had lifted him up with every ounce of my strength. How could he say those things to me? After a long, heavy silence, I found my voice. It sounded brittle, alien. “Leo, if that’s how you truly feel, then I have something to say, too. Let’s sever our relationship.” His jaw twitched. He looked away. “Mom, don’t be ridiculous. That’s not what I meant.” “But it’s what I mean. From this day forward, I, Janet Miller, have nothing to do with you.” “Mom, stop being so dramatic! I know Dad hurt you, and you don’t like me seeing him. I get it, I really do! But he’s still my father! Can you please not make a scene about this right now?” he pleaded, grabbing at his hair in frustration. “I’m not making a scene. If you want to go crawling to Richard for help, go right ahead. But let me give you a piece of advice. It doesn’t matter how much you flatter him. He will never accept you as his son. There’s a secret I’ve kept from you all this time. The truth is, you—” “Oh, would you stop trying to poison him against us!” Sophia snapped, striding back into the room with Noah on her hip. “Why do you think Richard is so cold to Leo? It’s because of you! You’ve monopolized him for thirty years. Of course Richard resents it!” She rolled her eyes at me, then turned her sharp gaze on Leo. “Leo, she clearly doesn’t care about your feelings, so you don’t need to care about hers. Just tell her.” I stared at Leo. “Tell me.” His lips moved, but no sound came out. He hesitated, then finally spoke. “Mom… you know Dad and I haven’t had a real relationship. It’s hard for him to feel close to me. Sophia and I talked about it, and… we’re changing Noah’s last name. To Richard’s.” He paused, glancing at my face for a reaction before adding hastily, “I thought about changing my own, but at my age, it’s just too much paperwork… and besides, I didn’t want to hurt you…” Hurt me. He was worried about hurting me. The irony was so bitter I could taste it. A real, genuine laugh escaped me. “Why would that hurt me? I fully support you and Noah changing your names. We’ve already cut ties. You don’t need my permission for anything.” Sophia let out a derisive snort. “We’re not asking for permission. We’re informing you. Leo didn’t have the heart to say it, but since you’re so eager to disown him, you’ve made it easy. If you don’t care about family, then don’t blame us for doing what we have to do.” I nodded slowly. “Then it’s settled. Leo, from this moment on, we are strangers. I don’t need you to take care of me in my old age, and my assets have nothing to do with you.” For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed Leo’s face. “Mom, why are you doing this?” He reached for me, but Sophia grabbed his arm. “Leo! She doesn’t want you! Stop begging!” She gave him a sharp, meaningful look and then steered Noah out the door. Leo wrung his hands, torn. “Mom, we’ll go now. I’ll come back in a few days to check on you… Don’t listen to Sophia. You know how she is, she’s got a temper, but she doesn’t mean it. You’re my mother, no matter what. I’m not the kind of son who would just abandon you.” I didn’t reply. I just picked up my phone and started scrolling through news articles, as if he wasn’t there. He left, leaving the door slightly ajar. As I walked over to close it, Sophia’s voice drifted in from the hallway. “…she only has one son. Her money will be yours eventually, one way or another.” “But she seemed really angry this time, Soph. What if she’s serious about cutting ties?” “Don’t be stupid. People get angry. But parents don’t disown their children. It doesn’t happen. In ten years, when she’s old and helpless in a bed somewhere, you’ll be the one calling all the shots. Now stop worrying. Our priority right now is fixing things with your dad. Noah will be starting middle school in a couple of years, and we’re going to need his help.” She had it all figured out. I had given to Leo unconditionally my entire life, so I was disposable. They would mend their relationship with Richard, and then, when the time was right, they’d come back to me with a half-hearted apology, and we’d be one big, happy family again. They wanted it all: Richard’s connections and my assets. Too bad for them. Leo wasn’t my biological son. Or Richard’s.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394011”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My life is like one of those steamy web novels, and I’m just the security guard. The city’s most feared crime lord, pinned against a wall in a dark alley by his own subordinate, having a secret negotiation. I saw it. The alpha CEO, forcibly kissing his adopted son in a crowded elevator. I saw that, too. The tanned, muscular delivery guy, putting the moves on the innocent-looking student renting an apartment on the third floor. Yep. Saw that one as well. I listen with deadened ears to the chorus of… exertion… echoing from the wall of security monitors. Seriously, does nobody know that public spaces have cameras? Does anyone ever stop to think about the straight security guard’s feelings in all of this? 1 I stared helplessly at the monitor, lighting a cigarette in utter despair. A few minutes ago, the notorious crime lord Silas Thorne had appeared on camera NW-03. Thinking I was about to witness some shady back-alley deal, I snapped to attention, locking the camera onto him. But Silas looked… dazed. Gone was his usual ruthless, cold-as-ice demeanor. Instead, the subordinate trailing him, a guy with sly, narrow eyes, easily shoved him against the wall. A double-cross? I frowned, zooming in and cranking up the audio. The subordinate, Mickey, purred, “Boss, you’ve been wearing it all day. Tired?” My senses tingled. Wearing what all day? Stolen goods? Some kind of torture device? Incriminating evidence? Silas just stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Mickey leaned in closer. “Boss, remember how I took a bullet for you? How I put down two of our rivals, all for you? Don’t you think it’s time you… returned the favor?” What the hell did that mean? And what was he digging for in his pants? A weapon? My brow furrowed, my heart pounding in my throat. My first night shift, and I’d stumbled into a mob takedown. My finger hovered over the emergency dial. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. Zzzzip. The next sound I heard was a zipper. And then I watched, wide-eyed, as the great Silas Thorne sat down. He sat right down on the little kiddie ride his subordinate had just… unzipped. The mechanical pony rocked unsteadily, forcing the crime lord to grab Mickey’s hand for balance. A wave of despair washed over me as a cheerful, synthesized jingle filled the alley, the sound so sharp it felt like it was stabbing my eyes. That cursedly catchy tune began to play—Who’s the best daddy in the world~? Silas mumbled, his voice low and shaky, “Daddy…” Clearly, the ride was already making him dizzy. 2 I am a security guard on the brink of a complete mental breakdown. It’s my third day working in Ashton City. My supervisor noticed the dark circles under my eyes. “Kyle, you look terrible. Rough night?” I managed a weak smile. “Rough night” didn’t even begin to cover it. I’d had a nightmare that I was being chased down by a fleet of giant, sentient kiddie rides. They cornered me, their plastic eyes glowing, and demanded, “What do you call your father’s mother’s third cousin’s uncle’s second wife?” I couldn’t answer. As I started to panic, they cackled, linked hands, and locked me inside one of their horrifying, rocking bodies. I sighed, shaking my head. I had to tell myself last night was a fluke. Forget everything. Just focus on work. Just then, a man in a sharp, tailored suit and glasses stepped into the main elevator. I immediately straightened my posture, my gaze filled with respect. This was Adrian Vance, the wealthiest man in the city, a legendary CEO. He was also the man who owned the company that owned my security firm. The boss of my boss. If anything happened to him on my watch, I had to be the first one to intervene. Adrian didn’t press a floor button. He just stood there, his gaze fixed on a spot just outside the elevator. A moment later, a young man came running into the frame. “Adrian! I finally caught you! You can’t keep avoiding me!” Adrian’s face was a mask of indifference. “You should call me ‘Father.’” Oh, please, I thought, rolling my eyes at the monitor. Like you didn’t hold the door for him on purpose. The young man, Ethan, stepped into the elevator, his eyes locked on Adrian. “I’ve never seen you as a father. You were my dad’s friend. That’s it.” Okay, I got it. Classic family drama. Ethan’s real dad passed away, Adrian adopted him, and now the kid was in his rebellious phase, refusing to accept the new dynamic. I could sympathize. At his age, I was all about making it on my own, too. It was only after joining the daily grind that I realized how lucky he was. All he had to do was say “Dad,” and a billionaire would set him up for life. So, just a father-son squabble. I breathed a sigh of relief. Adrian remained cool. “What is this tantrum about?” “It’s not a tantrum! I meant everything I said! You know what? Fine. Be your cold, heartless self! I’ll just go study abroad! It’s not like there’s a shortage of men out there!” Huh? I felt like I was missing a piece of the puzzle. “You wouldn’t dare!” Adrian hissed. And in the next second, they were kissing. A desperate, hungry kiss, like there was no one else in the world—or, you know, a high-definition camera—watching. I was completely stunned. Wait, what? Is this even legal? I thought this was a family drama, not… this. Thirty minutes later, my phone rang. It was my supervisor, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Kyle, Elevator 2 is stuck on the top floor. There’s a huge line of employees downstairs waiting. Can you check the camera and see what the hell is going on?” I chose my words carefully. “Mr. Vance and his son are in there… having a very intense argument.” “Well, can you do something? Go talk to them or something. The complaint emails are about to start flooding in, and you know who they’ll blame.” My jaw dropped. “Me? You want me to go?” After hanging up, I stared at the monitor in despair, gingerly lifting the corner of the napkin I’d used to cover the screen. Inside the elevator, the “argument” was still raging. Adrian was on the offensive, and while Ethan was losing ground, he certainly wasn’t surrendering. They were locked in a fiery, passionate battle, and frankly, they looked like they were enjoying every second of it. My eyes burned as if someone had stuck needles in them. 3 Why does no one seem to remember that public places have security cameras? And that a security guard has to watch them! 4 I am a security guard at the end of his rope. After a month of being forced to watch an endless parade of men engage in various forms of… extreme wrestling… in alleys, elevators, and stairwells, I finally understood. There was something fundamentally wrong with this district. I went to my supervisor and requested a transfer. I wanted to work security at a residential complex. My only requirement: the older, the better. He gave me a puzzled look. “Kyle, you know the older buildings have more problems, right? You’ll be working your butt off.” I instinctively flinched when he tried to clap me on the shoulder. This past month had taught me that a single, careless touch could ignite a raging inferno of carnal combat. I looked him dead in the eye, my voice deadly serious. “I don’t mind the hard work. Sir, please, transfer me to the most rundown apartment building you’ve got.” The older the building, the more old men. And I’ll bet my life that a bunch of grandpas don’t have the energy to be doing the splits under a security camera. 5 I stared at the monitor, speechless. Why? Why did this seventy-year-old grandpa look like he could still break hearts? Why did that middle-aged man over there, with no makeup on, have the delicate grace of a weeping willow? And why were the group of old guys chatting on the exercise equipment batting their eyelashes like seasoned coquettes? What is wrong with this world? I buried my face in my hands, letting out a silent, desperate scream in front of the bank of monitors. And in that moment, I had an epiphany. It wasn’t me. It was the world. The whole world had gone insane. 6 A new young tenant moved into the complex. White shirt, blue jeans, broad shoulders, narrow waist, and a clean, handsome face. He looked like a decent kid, probably poor, who’d stumbled into this den of grandpas because the rent was cheap. The moment he arrived, the other residents swarmed him, their curiosity piqued. They started introducing themselves. “Hello there, I’m a bottom.” “And I’m a top.” Their expectant eyes landed on the young man. He froze for a second, then stammered, his voice uncertain, “…Then… am I a two?” Hearing his answer, I shot up from my chair and rushed over. “I’m a two! I’m a two, too!” I grabbed his hand, my own shaking with emotion, trying my best to hold back the tears welling up in my eyes. Three whole months! I’d finally met another straight guy! Clasping his hand felt like finding a long-lost brother-in-arms. 7 The young man’s name was Noah. “I’m Kyle,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. Noah smiled, and a small dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth. He added me as a contact, then patted my shoulder. His voice was soft. “Nice to meet you, Kyle. You can call me Noah. I guess I’ll be counting on you to keep me safe around here.” I knew it was just something a tenant says to a security guard out of politeness, but his words went straight to my heart. From then on, I kept a close watch, my eyes often sore and strained, always ready to send him a helpful tip. “Noah, try not to use the back entrance after midnight. People… walk their dogs there around that time.” “Noah, don’t wait for the elevator when you get home. It’s ‘broken’ again. Probably be out for an hour.” “Noah, be careful about opening your door for strangers.” After sending that last message, I waited. No reply. My anxiety spiked. I stared at the monitor, my body tense, sweat beading on my brow. Because standing at Noah’s door was a delivery guy. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a tan, muscular chest that strained against his uniform. He’d somehow turned the bright yellow company jacket and helmet into a badass biker outfit. This guy did not look like a regular delivery driver. I glared at the screen. The driver, looking hot, unzipped his jacket and took off his helmet, revealing a ruggedly handsome face dripping with raw, masculine energy. He is definitely not just a delivery guy! I screamed internally. But Noah hadn’t seen my message. He opened the door. The audio on the old cameras was shot. I could only watch as Noah took the food, said a few words with a gentle smile, and the delivery guy leaned against the doorframe, not leaving, talking back. After a moment’s hesitation, Noah—my sweet, innocent, straight brother Noah—let him inside! I shot out of my chair, shoved my baton and flashlight into my belt, and sprinted towards Noah’s apartment building. 8 Noah opened the door to my frantic knocking. I was bent over, panting, unable to speak. The elevator had been… occupied… again. I’d taken the stairs. He looked pleasantly surprised. “Kyle? What are you doing here?” I waved a hand dismissively, my eyes scanning him from head to toe. Clothes were all in place. He was safe. Then I peered past him, looking for the delivery guy. “Sir, is this all the trash?” a voice called from the kitchen. The driver emerged, carrying several bags of garbage. He looked a bit dejected. It seemed Noah hadn’t fallen for his tricks. Safe! I finally relaxed. Noah saw the delivery guy out. “I’ve sent the twenty-dollar tip. Thanks again.” Twenty bucks just to take the trash downstairs? My eyes widened. I make five thousand a month as a security guard. My hourly wage is barely twenty bucks! Suddenly, my opinion of the delivery guy shifted dramatically. “Kyle, what’s wrong?” Noah asked again. I stammered, not wanting to sound like a weirdo. “Uh, I saw you didn’t reply to my text…” Understanding dawned on Noah’s face. He picked up his phone. “Oh, sorry about that, man. I sprained my ankle, so I can’t really get downstairs myself. I’ve had to ask the delivery guys to help me with the trash.” He looked down, then shyly lifted his pant leg to show me. His slender ankle was definitely swollen. It looked bad. I frowned, immediately crouching down for a closer look. “How’d you do that?” I asked, concerned. “Was walking home late the other night, didn’t see a loose stone.” “Have you put any ointment on it?” Noah bit his lip and shook his head, looking a little embarrassed. “I, uh… I don’t really know about that stuff, Kyle.” “Let me take a look. We need to make sure it’s not a fracture.” I gently took his ankle in my hand and began to probe the area. “Hiss—” Noah winced, grabbing my shoulder for support. His eyes were red at the corners. “Kyle,” he whimpered. He wasn’t as tough as me. One time, a colleague and I were chasing a thief, and my buddy accidentally tased me. I didn’t even make a sound. But then again, Noah was still a college student. He hadn’t been hardened by the real world yet. It was okay for him to be a little sensitive to pain. As the more manly big brother figure, I felt a duty to take care of him. With that in mind, I treated him with extra patience. “So, what do you do for work, Noah? You’re out late a lot.” Noah smiled. “I haven’t graduated yet, Kyle. I’m just renting a place here while I look for a job. I do some part-time work to make ends meet.” “What kind of work?” “I’m a private tutor.” My hand froze. I let go of his ankle. My entire body went on high alert.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394031”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After three days of silence from my lawyer boyfriend, I drafted an apology text—just to get him to the courthouse for our wedding. But the moment I hit send, his childhood sweetheart posted their marriage license online: “After all this time, it’s still you.” Coworkers gossiped in the comments, waiting for my meltdown. I simply replied: “Invite me to the baby shower. I’ll bring a generous gift.” The post vanished. He called, voice sharp: “Audrey needed legal help. It’s just paperwork. Must you be so dramatic? Apologize publicly now, and I’ll marry you after she recovers.” He forgot this was his 67th cancellation. When he hung up, expecting me to beg during his usual breakup countdown, I didn’t play along. My resignation was already submitted. … After I ignored more than a dozen of his frantic calls, he finally sent a furious text: “Jena, have you lost your mind? How dare you hang up on me? You screwed up, and you think you have the right to be angry?” “You have five minutes to post an apology. Otherwise, we’re done.” In our ten years together, I’d heard threats like this a hundred times. And every single time, I was the one to cave, to apologize, to beg. This was the first time I’d ever just hung up on him. When I didn’t immediately respond, Dillon started his signature social media countdown. He had a rule: three days of silent treatment meant we were broken up by default. My devotion had made him arrogant, and he wielded this rule like a weapon, using the public pressure of the countdown to break me every time we fought. For ten years, it had worked perfectly. I would always crack just before the timer ran out. But this time was different. I was tired. I was done being his fool. Shortly after Dillon’s post, his childhood sweetheart, Audrey, posted one of her own, making sure to tag me. “It was just a little joke with Dillon, I didn’t mean for it to go public! I had no idea Jena would react so strongly. Now I’m almost afraid to talk to her in case I accidentally set her off again.” Dillon, who rarely ever touched his social media, was the first to like it. “That’s her problem, Audrey. Don’t blame yourself. And why set it to ‘friends only’? If you want to post something, post it for the world to see.” It was obvious who “her” was. Our mutual friends, all dependent on Dillon for business, quickly chimed in with their support. “Jena is so petty. Audrey, don’t let someone like that get you down.” “No wonder Dillon won’t marry her. I wouldn’t marry a woman that insecure either.” I let out a bitter laugh. He would bend over backward to defend Audrey, to shield her from the slightest discomfort. But me, his girlfriend of ten years? I was always met with cold indifference. Audrey could sneeze, and he would cancel our appointment at the courthouse. If I complained, he would get angrier than me, accusing me of being controlling and small-minded. And now, when I finally chose to let go and congratulate them, he was still the one blaming me, using his stupid countdown to force an apology. The truth was, there was no right or wrong here. The scales of love had tipped long ago. “Ma’am, the man on this ID is already legally married. Would you like to reschedule with someone else?” The clerk at the marriage license bureau looked at me with pity. I took the ID back with a small smile. “That’s an option to consider.” The young couple behind me cheered as I stepped out of line. It was Valentine’s Day, and appointments were impossible to get. I had been waiting here since dawn just to get a spot. But now, looking at the appointment form in my hand, I didn’t hesitate. I tore it into pieces and threw it in the trash. I had filled out that form 67 times. I had given him 67 chances. Each time, I had shown up just like today, full of hope, watching other couples come and go as I waited for him. And each time, just before our appointment, he would call with an excuse about an urgent matter at the firm. When I questioned him, he’d throw his clients in my face. “Jena, a client’s case is their entire life on the line. Are you really asking me to abandon them for a piece of paper? How can you be so selfish?” He would say it with such righteous indignation, his voice dripping with condescension. He never knew that after he ditched me for Audrey, she would send me taunting messages. “Dillon’s cooking is amazing. I bet you’ve never had it, have you?” “I walked a little too far today, and Dillon was so worried he bought me a luxury car. I seem to recall you’re still using a bike share, right?” And now, he had gone so far as to get a marriage license with her. It was time for our relationship to end. For good. 2 As soon as I walked out of the courthouse, I saw that my resignation request had been rejected. HR told me that Dillon 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. Determined to leave properly, I gritted my teeth and went. The address was a pool hall. Audrey had posted earlier that she wanted to learn to play pool, and Dillon, the workaholic, had apparently been skipping work for days to teach her. When I found them, he was leaning over her, his body pressed against hers, guiding her shot. The moment Audrey saw me, a contemptuous smirk crossed her lips. A few of his office sycophants who were with them gathered around, nudging each other. “Well, well, look who’s here for Mr. Anderson.” “Told you. The three-day countdown wouldn’t even last one. She always comes crawling back.” “Our boss really has her whipped. One word and she’s on her knees.” “Alright, alright, enough talk. Pay up, losers.” I frowned. I’d heard these taunts countless times before, but they had never grated on me like this. “I’m not here to make up.” My words were met with a burst of laughter. “Oh, stop pretending, Jena. Everyone knows you’re Dillon’s ultimate lapdog. You couldn’t be chased away with a stick.” I ignored them and held out the resignation papers. “Dillon, I need your signature.” Just as he was about to look at the documents, Audrey whined, “Dillon, honey, how do I hit this one?” He immediately dropped the papers, pulled his personal seal from Audrey’s pocket, and tossed it to me. “Sign it yourself. And don’t come bothering me here again. I’m teaching Audrey.” Dillon was obsessed with his privacy. His safe was off-limits to me. He would shield his phone screen even when just entering a passcode. And his personal seal? He never let it out of his sight. But now, he had just given it to Audrey. He was so preoccupied with her that he couldn’t even be bothered with official company documents. I clutched the stamped resignation form, my heart feeling like a cavern with a cold wind blowing through it. I turned to leave, but Dillon called out to me. “Audrey’s busy for the next few days. You can handle her caseload for her.” He tossed a thick stack of files at me, each one with nothing but a title written on the front. I’d lost count of how many times he’d asked me to do Audrey’s work. All I knew was that every time I finished, she would take the credit. But if I made a single mistake in the rush, the blame would fall squarely on my shoulders. Sometimes, I’d lose my temper and refuse. He would then accuse me of being heartless, of not caring about him or the firm. He’d say if I didn’t do it, he would, and I, feeling guilty about his workload, would always cave. But all my sacrifices had only earned me his entitlement and contempt. But now, I was no longer an employee. The firm’s business was no longer my problem. “No. I’ve resigned.” Before I could finish, Audrey’s whiny voice cut in. “Dillon, it’s okay. If Jena doesn’t want to do it, I can do it myself.” Dillon immediately softened. “You just went through a divorce. You’re in no state to work. Go on, have fun. Don’t worry about it.” Then, his tone toward me turned to ice. “Don’t you understand? You’ve already upset Audrey enough with that social media stunt. Now I’m giving you a chance to make it up to her, and you’re refusing? You keep this up, and in three days, you could be on your knees begging, and I still wouldn’t take you back.” I almost laughed. My mother had passed away unexpectedly, and I had been so grief-stricken I’d fainted multiple times. All Dillon had said was, “When you’re done crying, get back to the office on time. There’s a lot of work to be done.” But Audrey? She’d been divorced for two years, and she could still use it as an excuse to skip work. “Then don’t take me back. I don’t care.” I turned to leave. Dillon’s face was a mask of shock. The coworkers were stunned into silence. Audrey, however, just chuckled. “Jena, if you don’t want to do the work, just say so. There’s no need to play these hard-to-get games.” At her words, the tension in Dillon’s face immediately eased, replaced by his usual confident smirk. His voice softened. “Alright, Jena, I know I’ve been neglecting you lately. Just be a good girl and finish Audrey’s work, and in three days, I’ll go with you to get the license, okay?” I scoffed. The same empty promises. But this time, I wasn’t buying. I didn’t answer. I just walked away. The coworkers started their snide remarks again. “What’s the point of pretending? Just watch, by tomorrow at the latest, she’ll be back, begging.” A wicked thought crossed my mind. I wanted to see them lose their bet. I smirked and looked back at them. “Fine. You just wait and see.” 3 With my resignation approved, I immediately joined my best friend’s law firm. In the legal world, your reputation follows you, not the firm you work for. My friend was so thrilled to have a top-tier lawyer like me on her team that she practically bowed down in gratitude. She offered me ten times the salary Dillon had been paying me and gave me a villa. I was finally able to move out of my dilapidated rental apartment. Many of my clients had been shocked to learn that a high-profile lawyer like me lived in such a rundown place. I always brushed it off, saying I was a minimalist and didn’t care about material things. The truth was, I had willingly taken a junior-level salary so that Dillon’s firm could grow. At first, he had been grateful. But over time, he came to see it as his due. Once, when the heating in my apartment broke in the middle of winter, I asked him for money to replace it. He called me extravagant, said I had changed, that I was only after his money. But for Audrey, he would buy a sprawling mansion without a second thought. Even her dog’s house had heating. The day I was moving, I ran into Dillon and Audrey. They were with his parents, a happy family of four enjoying a meal at a fancy restaurant. I froze for a second. I remembered the first time I had gone to his house. I had arrived with armfuls of gifts, but his parents had served me a table full of leftovers. When I awkwardly suggested we all go out to eat, they accused me of being a gold-digger, of mooching off their son and developing wasteful habits. In the end, I had to cook for the entire family. After I’d prepared a full meal, his mother had thrown down her chopsticks, complaining my food was too salty. She’d said only laborers ate such salty food, that it was what she’d expect from someone with my “rural” background. The gifts I had brought them ended up in the hands of the building’s cleaning lady. Compared to this scene, I felt like a complete clown. Dillon’s parents were enthusiastically piling food onto Audrey’s plate. “Audrey and our Dillon are just perfect for each other,” his mother gushed. “If you hadn’t been tricked by that other man all those years ago, you two would never have missed your chance. I think the time is right now. You two should just get together.” His father chimed in. “Exactly. Audrey has already landed several big clients for Dillon since joining the firm. She has a bright future ahead of her. Not like that useless Jena, who’s only good for cooking and cleaning.” I trembled with rage. I had been the one to land those clients. Dillon had just credited them to Audrey’s name. The money I earned had practically kept the entire firm afloat. But Dillon had never once praised me. Instead, he constantly belittled me, saying I was only successful because of the platform his firm provided. And now, faced with his parents’ slander, he said nothing to defend me. He just sighed and said, “Well, we’ve been together for so long, I guess I’ll just make do.” My heart plummeted. All these years, to him, I was just someone to “make do” with. His mother, however, was not satisfied with his answer. “Dillon, I’m telling you, that Jena is bad luck. Just look at how her parents died so young. Marrying her will bring you nothing but trouble.” Dillon didn’t respond, but I was already overwhelmed by tears. My parents had died giving blood to save his. Years ago, his parents were in a car accident and were in critical condition. My parents, who had a matching blood type, didn’t hesitate to donate. But they needed more blood than my parents could safely give. Dillon had been a sobbing mess. My parents, knowing how much I loved him, secretly donated more blood than their bodies could handle. In the end, his parents were saved, but mine passed away. The Anderson family had been consumed with guilt at first, promising to compensate me for my loss. But the compensation never came. Instead, I became the “bad luck” they whispered about. I couldn’t bear to listen to their vile talk any longer. I turned to leave.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394048”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The night my girlfriend, Ava, won Pop Artist of the Year for the third time in a row, she stood on the Aria Awards stage and announced her retirement. She left the world with one final song, a haunting ballad titled simply, Aiden. The internet exploded. The world buzzed, speculating about the identity of this mystery man. A moment later, Ava’s official account updated: “In memory of my lost first love.” The comment section flooded with tearful emojis and condolences. In that instant, my heart turned to ash. But I didn’t fly into a jealous rage or demand answers like I used to. Instead, on the day of our wedding, I boarded a flight to another continent. And that’s when Ava, the untouchable queen of pop, finally broke. She crossed an ocean to beg me to come back. 1 When Ava got home, I was glued to the couch, controller in hand, deep in a video game. She despised it. Called it childish, a dead-end hobby for guys with no ambition. For her, I’d walked away from a booming career in esports, said goodbye to my teammates, and dedicated myself to being the man behind the superstar. She paused in the entryway, the motion of slipping off her heels hesitating for a fraction of a second, but she didn’t say anything. She walked over to the couch and tossed an exquisitely wrapped gift box onto the cushion beside me. “Happy birthday.” “Oh. Thanks.” She froze, clearly not expecting such a flat response. Every year before this, my birthday turned me into an excited kid. I’d pester her for gifts, for hugs, for attention. “Aren’t you going to open it?” “No need. I love it,” I mumbled, my tone dismissive as I reached for my controller to unpause the game. “Caleb!” Her voice shot up, sharp and angry. She snatched the controller from my hands and slammed it onto the hardwood floor. “What the hell is your problem?” I rose from the couch, my face a cold, emotionless mask. “I don’t have one.” Then I turned and walked back to my room, leaving her standing alone in the living room. I caught a flash of bewilderment in her eyes, a flicker of something that looked almost like panic. Tonight was her awards ceremony. It was also my birthday. I had reservations at our favorite Italian restaurant. I had a ring hidden in my jacket pocket. I was going to propose, to give her the surprise of her life. On the way to the restaurant, I was scrolling through my phone, looking for news about her win. The number one trending topic was a photo of her on stage, trophy in hand. I was about to tap on it when the next headline stopped my heart. “AVA’S NEW ALBUM ART REVEALED—A SECRET LOVER?” My thumb trembled as I clicked the link. The album cover was a photo of her with another man. He was handsome, with fine features and a gentle smile, dressed in a simple white shirt. Ava was nestled in his arms, her face radiant with a kind of pure, unadulterated happiness I’d never seen before. This wasn’t just some random guy. It was Aiden. Aiden. Her high school obsession. The one that got away. A ghost she could never let go of. A man who had been dead for over a year. My hands shaking, I played the interview clip, desperate for some rational explanation. But every word she spoke was a knife twisting in my gut. “This album is a gift for him,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, tears welling in her eyes. “He was the love of my life. We promised we’d get married on his 28th birthday…” On screen, she broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. And in my car, a chilling numbness washed over me, as if I’d been plunged into an icy abyss. 2 Messages from my old coach started blowing up my phone, a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Are you serious? You’re not worried about what’s-her-name getting pissed? You ditched the team, your brothers, for her. Now you’re saying you want back in? I’m not buying it for a second!” I managed a bitter smile. “She won’t be a problem. My focus is 100% on the game now.” “Bullshit! The amount of effort you put into chasing Ava was more than you ever put into a tournament. And now you’re telling me it’s all about the game?” “If you come back for a few days and then bail on us again, I’ll kill you myself!” “I won’t. This was always my dream. I’m not giving it up again.” The truth is, Ava was my first love, too. Back in high school, my dad went to prison for manslaughter, and our world came crashing down. My mom couldn’t handle the fallout and took her own life. At school, kids treated me like a leper. They threw rocks at me, called me the son of a killer. I was drowning in despair, suffocating in grief. It was Ava who pulled me out of that abyss, time and time again. She stood up for me when I was bullied, offered me comfort when I felt utterly alone. “Caleb, don’t listen to them,” she’d said, her voice a gentle but firm anchor in my storm. “What happened with your dad was an accident. You have your own life to live. You have to live it for your mom, too. Live it well.” Her words were a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. A warmth spread across my back as Ava’s arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me from my thoughts. For a fleeting moment, my resolve softened. “Caleb,” she murmured against my shoulder. “For the wedding… let’s just have a simple dinner with a few friends. No need to invite extended family or make a big deal out of it.” I closed my eyes, hiding the bitterness that welled up inside me. “Okay.” “And one more thing,” she said, her tone shifting, becoming more hesitant. “About the marriage license… maybe we should wait a few years before we make it official. I know I’m retiring, but the spotlight is still on me. If news got out that I’m officially married, it could hurt my brand.” Seven years. We had been together for seven years. And in the end, I wasn’t even worth a piece of paper. “Okay.” My compliance seemed to satisfy her. She leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head, and her lips met my cheek. “What’s wrong?” she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I’m just tired.” I shut my eyes, feigning sleep. A sickening thought began to creep into my mind. In the haze of all those passionate nights, when she whispered my name, was she really seeing my face? Or was she seeing his? The question devoured the last shred of warmth I had left for her. 3 I woke up the next morning to an empty apartment. Ava was already gone. My phone screen lit up. A message from Coach: “Training camp in Paris starts in a few days! I booked your ticket!” I glanced at the date on the ticket. It was for the same day as my wedding. Seven days. This hollow, half-assed wedding suddenly seemed utterly pointless. I began to pack, moving like an automaton. Seven years wasn’t a lifetime, but it wasn’t short, either. Yet, the sum of my possessions in her apartment was shockingly small. Good thing we never got married, I thought grimly. Would’ve made this even messier. I decided I had to end it, to tell her face-to-face. I smoked one cigarette after another, the smoke coiling around me like ghosts of the past. I saw myself seven years ago, young and naive, proudly bringing Ava home to meet my teammates. “Guys, this is my girlfriend,” I’d announced, my heart swelling with pride. “You’d better be nice to her.” They’d all laughed and teased me about being whipped. I just stood there, grinning like an idiot, a sweetness spreading through my chest. My phone rang, shattering the memory. It was Ava’s manager. “Caleb, Ava’s had too much to drink. Can you come pick her up? I’m sending you the address now.” When I got to the bar, she was completely wasted, making a scene. “Ava!” I called out, approaching her. She squinted at me, her eyes unfocused. “Who are you? What gives you the right to tell me what to do?” One of her friends recognized me and rushed over to intervene. “Ava, you’re drunk. That’s Caleb, your boyfriend!” “Caleb?” Her expression turned vacant. “No… you’re not my Caleb. My Aiden would never wear a color like this…” Her drunken gaze swept over me, thick with disgust. “My Aiden… he only wore white shirts. He had the kindest smile, and he played the guitar…” She reached out, her fingers tracing the lines of my face as if she were seeing someone else entirely. I stood frozen, a pain so sharp it stole my breath piercing through my chest. “You’re not him,” she slurred, shoving me away with a look of pure revulsion. “You’re an imposter. A pathetic gamer who could never be him.” Of course. That’s why she always insisted I wear white shirts. That’s why she was never quite satisfied with my looks, even suggesting plastic surgery once. That’s why, the night I confessed my feelings all those years ago, she had cried and held me, calling out Aiden’s name. It all made sense now. I wasn’t her lover. I was a substitute. A ridiculous, laughable stand-in to fill the void he’d left behind. A choked laugh escaped my lips, but tears streamed down my face. I turned to her friends, my voice polite and steady. “Please take care of Ava. I’m leaving.” I paused at the door. “And when she sobers up, tell her we’re over.” I walked out without looking back. If I had stayed a second longer, I would’ve shattered completely. 4 Back at the apartment, I started gathering my things, ready to throw them all away. My eyes landed on a framed photo on the nightstand. It was of the two of us. In the picture, I was wearing a white shirt, my hair perfectly styled, a shy smile on my face. I looked like a different person. It was taken seven years ago, not long after we first got together. She had insisted on a professional couple’s photoshoot. I’d asked her why. “I want to capture this perfect moment,” she’d said, beaming. “So when we’re old, we can look back at these pictures and remember how happy we were.” A strange impulse made me ask, “Ava, do you love me?” She paused, then smiled. “Silly. Of course I love you. Why else would I be with you?” Her smile, her tone—it was all so genuine, so sincere, that it left no room for doubt. Click. The camera shutter captured our moment of blissful ignorance forever. Now, seven years later, I finally understood. It was all a lie. Ava’s love was never meant for me. I tossed the frame into a trash bag. Then I remembered my suitcase, filled almost exclusively with white shirts. I pulled them out, one by one, and threw them in the bag as well. I hated them. I much preferred soft cotton t-shirts. “I’ll buy new ones later,” I muttered with a self-deprecating laugh. Just as I was in the middle of my purge, the front door opened and Ava stumbled in. She looked more sober now, though a flush still lingered on her cheeks. “Make me some tea to sober up,” she commanded, not even glancing my way. My voice was flat. “We’re out of tea.” She stopped, finally seeming to register my cold tone. She looked up, her expression confused, as if wondering why her order wasn’t being followed. She didn’t remember mistaking me for someone else at the bar. She didn’t remember the humiliating things she’d said. Or maybe, she just didn’t care. She rubbed her temples, annoyed. “Then order something. I want—” “Ava, let’s break up.” She frowned. “What did you say?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Stop messing around. We’re getting married in a few days.” I laid it all out. “Ava, I’m not Aiden. The person you want to marry has never been me.” A flicker of panic crossed her eyes. Her voice softened. “The wedding isn’t canceled. Caleb, don’t be angry. I promise I’ll never mention him again, okay?” When she lied, she always glanced to her left, as if reading from a script only she could see. She probably didn’t even know she did it. “Ava, can’t we just let each other go?” “Caleb, what are you trying to say?” Her voice hardened again. “I’ve already sent out the invitations. Don’t you dare humiliate me.” Right. She was a superstar. She couldn’t be embarrassed. “Aiden is dead,” she snapped, her patience gone. “Why are you so obsessed with him?” I gave a bitter laugh. “But he’s not dead to you, is he?” He was gone, but he lived on in her heart, occupying a space I could never hope to touch. I looked her straight in the eye. “Ava, it’s been seven years. Was there ever, even for a single moment, a time when you truly loved me?” She looked away, irritated. “Don’t ask such stupid questions. If I didn’t love you, why would I have stayed with you for so long?” A non-answer. Which was an answer in itself. Suddenly, the whole thing felt pointless. This farce had to end. “Fine,” I said calmly. “If you insist, we’ll get married.” Ava seemed to let out a breath of relief. “Caleb, don’t talk about breaking up again. I might actually take you seriously next time. I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.” She fled into the room as if escaping a threat. I just smiled, a hollow, empty gesture. It didn’t matter to me where she slept. I had no intention of showing up to the wedding anyway. 5 I woke up in the middle of the night, my throat parched. As I fumbled my way to the kitchen for a glass of water, I heard the faint sound of a voice coming from the guest room. “Don’t worry, I’ve calmed Caleb down. He won’t find out…” My heart dropped, and I froze in the hallway. “No, it’s fine. We agreed not to get the marriage license yet. There’s no way he’ll find out that Aiden and I were already legally married.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She married him. She actually married Aiden. Ava kept talking, her voice low. “Aiden is my husband. Caleb doesn’t deserve that title.” Through the crack in the door, I saw her holding a marriage certificate, her gaze full of a deep, sorrowful affection. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. Seven years ago, Aiden had a car accident that left him in a vegetative state. His family took him abroad for treatment. I had always assumed their story ended there. How naive I’d been. I staggered back to my room and lay awake until dawn. Ava left early the next morning. The moment she was gone, I searched the guest room and found it. The so-called marriage certificate. My hands trembled as I opened it. The date of marriage was written clearly: two years ago. Two years ago, my company sent me on a year-long assignment abroad. Before I left, I’d told her earnestly that I wanted to get married. She’d put me off, saying she was too busy with work. I, like a fool, believed her, telling her to focus on her career and that we could talk about it later. It turned out that while I was gone, she had been at his side. She had married a man in a coma. A profound weariness settled over me, so heavy I didn’t have the energy to speak or even think. Hours later, my phone rang. It was Ava. “Caleb, I’m swamped lately. For the wedding photos, I’ll just have someone Photoshop us together, okay?” I glanced at the date. I’d forgotten we were supposed to have our photos taken today. A bitter laugh escaped me. “Fine.” “I’ve also bought the rings, so you don’t need to worry about that.” She didn’t even want to pretend to try them on. The whole thing was a complete sham. “Oh, and the wedding outfits are being delivered to the apartment today. I probably won’t be home for the next few days, so just meet me at the venue on the day.” “Okay.” I hung up and closed my eyes, exhausted. Time was moving so fast. Only three days left until the wedding.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394064”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel