Category: English

My phone buzzed. I was mid-meeting, pitching a new feature to the executive team, but I risked a glance at the screen. The family group chat. Adam had tagged me, attaching an Excel file. I tapped it open. The first cell: Jenna Thorne – Itemized Debt Ledger. Below it were 237 densely packed lines, dating from a $5 coffee I bought five years ago during our first year of marriage, all the way up to the $180 puffer coat he got me last winter. Every single penny. The final row, highlighted in red: TOTAL DUE: $180,000.00. My hand shook, rattling the phone against the table. My colleagues kept debating the implementation timeline, their words a muffled, distant sound. I couldn’t hear a thing. I closed the spreadsheet. Another message popped up in the chat. Adam: Repayment expected within 30 days. I stared at the sentence, and a sudden, hysterical laugh caught in my throat. Five years. In his eyes, I was just a debtor. 1. The meeting ended. I shut my laptop, the screen going black. My phone vibrated again, this time a direct call from my mother, Laura. “Jenna, what on earth is that spreadsheet Adam sent to the group?” I took a deep, steadying breath, then called her back. “Mom, it’s nothing. I’m handling it.” “What is wrong with that boy? Five years of marriage, and he’s calculating every cent?” My mother’s voice was tight with shock. “Don’t worry about it. I know what to do.” A text came in from my best friend, Samara (Sam). Sam: I saw the group message. Are you okay? Me: I’m fine. Sam: He’s lost his mind, right? Posting a ledger like that? Me: He probably thought it was perfectly reasonable. Samara sent a string of furious, all-caps emojis. I didn’t reply. I gathered my things and headed out. In the elevator, I ran into Mike, one of the HR directors. “Jenna, you look pale. Is the Q3 launch stressing you out?” “I’m fine, Mike. Thanks for the concern.” The doors opened and I stepped onto the street. The New York rush hour subway was predictably jammed. I stood pressed into a corner, completely isolated in the crush of people, and opened the ledger again. I scrolled down. 11/08/2019: Wedding Favors (My side of the guests) – $800.00 12/24/2019: Christmas Eve Coffee (Grande Latte) – $6.50 03/14/2020: Valentine’s Day Chocolates – $55.00 06/01/2020: Plush Toy (Gag Gift) – $22.00 Every item was there. It included the prenatal vitamins, the specialty tea, the maternity clothes, even the organic strawberries he’d bought me during my ten months of pregnancy. All accounted for. I lowered the phone and closed my eyes. The train announced the next stop: “”Grand Central. Transfer to the 4, 5, 6…”” I stayed put. I rode to the end of the line, then rode the train back. It was nine p.m. when I finally got home. Adam was on the couch, scrolling through his phone. “You’re home?” “Mhm.” I walked over and stood directly in front of him. “I saw the ledger you sent.” He set his phone down and turned his head up to me. “Good. I was meticulous. I didn’t overcharge you by a single dime.” “One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.” “Yes. That’s the amount I’ve spent on you over the last five years.” He said it so matter-of-factly. “You clear about $25,000 a month. You can pay it off in six or seven months.” I just stared at him. This man. My husband of five years. “You think this is reasonable?” “Of course, it is. We agreed to keep our finances separate, didn’t we? It’s our version of bill splitting.” “I don’t recall agreeing to this version of bill splitting.” “Well, you should have paid attention.” Adam stood up. “Jenna, we’re adults. Keeping a clear account ensures neither of us is taken advantage of. It’s fair.” “Fair?” “Yes. Modern couples should be practical.” I finally laughed—a short, sharp bark. “Did you know my mother called me, her voice shaking, today?” “Your mother is just old-fashioned.” “You posted that in the family group chat, Adam. Both our parents saw it.” “Perfect. Saves me having to explain it later.” I turned toward the bedroom. “Jenna, when are you going to pay?” I stopped at the doorway, not turning back. “I’ll think about it.” I closed the bedroom door behind me and leaned my back against it. My son, Toby, was asleep, his face rosy and peaceful. He was three years old, unaware that his father was calculating his mother’s value in the living room. I walked to his bed and pulled the blanket up to his chin. I opened my phone and looked at the spreadsheet one more time. 237 line items. Five years. An average of four transactions logged every single month. Me: Do you think this marriage is salvageable? Samara replied instantly: Are you thinking about divorce? Me: I don’t know. Samara: If you are, I’ve got your back. I turned off my phone and lay down on my side of the bed. There was a faint crack running across the ceiling. I stared at it for a long time. Five years. I thought we were partners. He thought I was a line item on his balance sheet. 2. Saturday morning, I took Toby to my parents’ house. “Jenna, that debt statement…” My mother looked at me, struggling to find the words. “Mom, I’ve got it under control.” “Adam wasn’t always like this,” she sighed. My father, Frank, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. “What’s your next move?” “I haven’t decided yet.” “Then don’t rush.” Dad’s eyes met mine. “But you need to understand, this isn’t about the money.” I nodded. I went home in the afternoon. Adam wasn’t there. I booted up his work computer. The password was his birthday—he’d never changed it. There was a folder on the desktop titled: Household Financials – MASTER. I clicked it open. Inside were over a dozen spreadsheets. The first was the “”Jenna Thorne Debt Ledger”” he’d sent to the chat. The second: Family Expenses Log (Adam’s Share). I opened it. Row 1: 11/2019 – 11/2024: Mortgage Payments Totaled $480,000. My contribution: $240,000. Row 2: General Living Expenses: My monthly average contribution $3,000. Five-year total: $180,000. Row 3: Child Expenses: My monthly average contribution $2,000. Three-year total: $72,000. … I scrolled down. Every contribution was itemized and logged. Then I clicked on the third file: Family Expenses Log (Jenna’s Share). Row 1: General Living Expenses: Jenna’s monthly average contribution $5,000. Five-year total: $300,000. Row 2: Child Expenses: Jenna’s monthly average contribution $7,000. Three-year total: $252,000. … I did the quick math. By his own accounting, I had contributed over $800,000 to the shared family fund over five years. He had contributed just over $500,000. Yet his public ledger only accounted for the $180,000 he’d spent directly on me. I kept digging. There was another folder, simply titled Personal Assets. I opened it. A screenshot of a bank account. Balance: $285,000. In the transaction history, several large deposits stood out. 01/2020: Christmas Bonus from Mom – $50,000. 01/2021: Birthday Gift from Mom – $50,000. 05/2023: Medical Expense Reimbursement (Mom) – $50,000. I froze at that last one: Medical Expense Reimbursement (Mom). I remembered May of last year. Adam’s mother, Ruth, had a serious health scare. Adam had asked me for $50,000. He’d said, “It’s my mother. You’re my wife. It’s only right that we split the major costs.” I transferred the $50,000 without a second thought. Her hospital stay cost $130,000 in total. Adam had told me he’d covered the remaining $80,000. Now I knew the truth. He’d only covered $30,000. His mother had reimbursed him $50,000 after being released. My $50,000, however, was gone. I closed the laptop. I walked to the balcony. Outside, a light, cold rain was falling. It was a bleak New York autumn. I suddenly recalled the $180 puffer coat from his ledger. He’d insisted on paying for it that day, saying, “Let me take care of this one.” I had felt touched by the gesture. Now I knew the cost was in his ledger. Meanwhile, his own $1,200 Patagonia jacket wasn’t in any of the shared family expense logs. I smiled—a cold, empty expression. So that was it. Adam returned late that evening. “Where were you?” I asked, meeting him at the door. “Dinner with a client.” “Oh.” He settled on the couch and picked up his phone. I walked over and sat down on the chair opposite him. “Adam, a question.” “Yeah?” “Does the money your mother gives you count as family income?” He looked up, wary now. “It’s a gift from my mother. It has nothing to do with you.” “But the $50,000 I gave you for your mother’s medical bill—that counted as a family expense?” “Of course, it did. You’re my wife.” I nodded slowly. “And everything you bought me during my ten months of pregnancy—the prenatal care, the clothes—that all counts as my debt to you?” “They were purchases for you. Yes, they count.” “But I was pregnant. I was creating your son.” “That was your choice,” Adam said, his voice hardening. “Jenna, why are you bringing all this up?” “I just wanted to clarify the accounting rules.” “There’s nothing unclear about it. I keep a ledger to keep things clear.” I looked at him, feeling a terrifying wave of unfamiliarity wash over me. “Adam, a marriage isn’t a limited partnership.” He frowned. “What are you talking about?” “I’m talking about the fact that I don’t owe you anything.” “So you’re refusing to pay?” “Yes. I’m not paying.” Adam stood up and crossed the space between us. “Jenna, don’t be unreasonable.” “I’m unreasonable?” “Yes! The ledger is clear. You can’t just refuse to pay what you owe!” “And why don’t you account for what I’ve contributed to this home?” “Your contributions? You benefited from them just as much as I did!” I took a sharp breath. “I understand now.” “Good. One month. $180,000. Don’t miss the deadline.” I stood up and walked into the bedroom. “Jenna!” I didn’t answer. I closed the door and messaged Samara. Me: Can you recommend a lawyer? Samara: What kind? Me: Divorce. Samara sent a shocked emoji, then a single word: Tomorrow. Me: Thank you. I turned off my phone and lay back. Toby slept peacefully beside me. I stroked his hair. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Your mom has to make a hard choice. But I can’t let you grow up thinking this is what love looks like. 3. Sunday afternoon, I met with the lawyer. Ms. Klein was a sharp, meticulous woman in her forties who looked like she’d won every case she’d ever taken. “Ms. Thorne, let’s go over the specifics.” I explained the ledger, the group chat, and the context of the $180,000. Ms. Klein listened, silently, for a few moments. “This situation is… unique,” she said. “I want a divorce.” “We can do that, but you need to consider three things,” Ms. Klein continued. “First, custody of your son. Second, asset division. Third, if he sues you for the $180,000, legally speaking…” “If he sues,” I cut her off, “I will countersue and submit my own itemized ledger for the last five years.” Ms. Klein paused, then a slight smile touched her lips. “Ms. Thorne, you are remarkably composed.” “I’m just done being naive.” “So, what’s your strategy?” “I’m creating my own ledger.” Ms. Klein nodded, pulling out a legal pad. “Excellent. But we need to structure it smartly. Marital common expenditures are shared. The key is to prove that your non-monetary contributions vastly outweigh his, and that his accounting system was designed to benefit himself.” “I have the proof.” “What proof?” I took out my phone and opened the photo album. “These are my bank statements for the last five years. I’ve already organized them.” Ms. Klein took the phone, scrolling briefly. “Very good. These will be useful.” “I also have photos of his hidden accounting files on his work computer.” Ms. Klein looked at me, her surprise evident. “Ms. Thorne, what is your profession?” “I’m a Product Manager.” “That explains it.” I offered a small smile. “So, what do I do next?” “First, finalize your counter-ledger,” Ms. Klein advised. “Second, gather all evidence: texts, transfer records, everything. Finally, we propose a mediated settlement. If he refuses, we file a complaint.” “Understood.” “And regarding custody: do you want primary custody?” “Absolutely.” “Then we must establish your competence and show that the child’s best interests are served by living with you.” “That won’t be an issue.” Ms. Klein covered a few more technical details, which I duly noted. I arrived home around seven p.m. Adam was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. “You’re back? Where were you?” “Met a friend.” “Right.” He served the food and called me to the table. I sat, but had no appetite. “So, about the $180,000. Have you thought about it?” I looked up at him. “I have. If you want to keep score, we’ll settle the books.” Adam paused, fork halfway to his mouth, then grinned. “You want to challenge my math?” “Yes.” “Go ahead. I’m an open book.” He wore a condescending expression, convinced I couldn’t possibly come up with anything substantial. I didn’t argue. I just ate quietly. For the next three days, I sat in front of my computer every night after putting Toby to bed. Five years of bank statements. Screenshots of every large transfer. And my own ledger. I used the same Excel template Adam had. The first cell: Adam Thorne – Itemized Compensation Due to Jenna Thorne Ledger. I began listing the items. Row 1: Opportunity Cost of 10-Month Pregnancy & Recovery. I consulted online resources, calculating the loss of potential promotion and salary increase for a high-earning woman. I settled on a conservative estimate: $300,000. Row 2: Physical & Emotional Toll of Childbirth. Quantifying the actual cost of physical damage and recovery time: $100,000. Row 3: Value of Uncompensated Childcare & Domestic Labor. I calculated the hours spent after my full-time job and on weekends doing primary childcare and household management. I calculated 3 hours per day, at a moderate rate of $50/hour, over five years. 3 hours x 365 days x 5 years x $50/hour = $273,750. I rounded it to a conservative: $250,000. Row 4: My Parents’ Down Payment Contribution (never returned or acknowledged). $30,000. Row 5: My $50,000 Contribution to Mother-in-Law’s Medical Bill (unreimbursed). $50,000. Row 6: Disparity in Monthly Shared Expenses (My overpayment of $2,000/month). $120,000. … I compiled twenty entries. The final row, highlighted in fluorescent green: TOTAL COMPENSATION DUE: $850,000.00. $850,000. I stared at the number and let out a genuine, albeit cynical, laugh. I had “earned” an $670,000 profit in this marriage. I saved the file and closed the laptop. It was 1 a.m. Adam was asleep in the bedroom. I didn’t go in. I lay on the living room sofa for the rest of the night. 4. Thursday evening, Adam asked again: “$180,000. What’s the plan?” “This weekend. I’ll give you my answer then.” “Fine. I’ll wait.” Saturday morning, I met Samara at our usual coffee shop. “Is the ledger ready?” “Yes.” I AirDropped the Excel file to her phone. Samara opened it, read for a moment, and burst out laughing. “Jenna, you are savage.” “I just used his own logic against him.” “The ‘Opportunity Cost of 10-Month Pregnancy.’ That’s genius.” “And it’s a conservative estimate, too.” “It’s brutal enough.” Samara put down her phone. “When are you going to send this to him?” “Tonight. In the family chat.” Samara’s jaw dropped, then she gave me a slow, emphatic thumbs-up. “You’re an icon.” “If he can humiliate me in the family chat, I can certainly return the favor.” “That’s the spirit.” That afternoon, I went to my parents’ house. Dad saw my face and asked, “What’s wrong, kiddo?” “Mom, Dad, I need to tell you something.” “What is it?” “I’m filing for divorce.” Mom gasped. Dad didn’t speak for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “Are you sure?””

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390246”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was stressed about my AI hackathon entry. My husband Toby, usually just beside me, set down his book, removed his gold-rimmed glasses, and took my laptop—something he’d never shown interest in before. He rolled up his sleeves, and in the glow of the screen, his fingers flew across the keyboard. In under a minute, he solved a problem that had stumped me for a month. “Did you learn that recently?” I asked, my heart swelling, thinking he’d done it for me. He only smiled. A man focused on his work is irresistible. I snapped a photo of his handsome profile and posted it online. My usually quiet account blew up overnight. Comments flooded in: “It’s 2026 and I’m seeing those hands code again! The ultimate intellectual crush!” “‘Learned that recently?’ LOL, OP, you really don’t know your husband, do you?” “MY SHIP IS BACK FROM THE DEAD! I watched Isabelle teach Toby to code a hundred times. They were perfect.” “Wait… is OP Toby’s wife? My Toby-and-Isabelle ship is officially ancient history…” 1 The comments kept pouring in. “Props to you, though. Back in the day, Toby stayed up for nights on end optimizing the parameters for Isabelle’s AI competition. He collapsed in the lab from exhaustion right after it was over. That kind of devotion still hits hard!” “You think that’s something? What about the fact that after Isabelle left, Toby never touched a competitive AI project again? Is that not the ultimate tragic romance?” … Everyone was lamenting their unfinished love story. Over three thousand comments, all piecing together an Toby I had never known. This wasn’t the calm, dependable man I had fallen in love with, the man so steady that I was the one who had to propose marriage. This was a raw, impulsive young man who, when rumors spread that he was backing out of Isabelle’s project, ran through a torrential downpour to her apartment just to explain. The night before Isabelle left the country was Christmas Eve. That same day, Toby officially quit the AI lab, vowing never to work on core algorithms again. He locked himself in a server room all night and emerged with a hauntingly beautiful piece of AI-generated music—a melody whose title was a coded way of saying “I love you.” She was his muse, his inspiration. I scrolled through their entire story, comment by comment. The bright white screen stung my eyes until they started to water. The melody Toby had just generated for me… it was the same one. Was it because Christmas was approaching? Was he thinking of her again? “Hey, don’t cry over a bit of code.” Toby chuckled, his thumb, slightly calloused, brushing away a tear from the corner of my eye. I flinched away from his touch, forcing a weak smile. I tried to keep my voice even. “Have you competed in AI events before? You have a really deep understanding of these models.” “The lead algorithm engineer on my team is out sick. Honey, could you step in and help me out?” Everyone has a past. But his kindness to me over the years was real. More importantly, I had just found out I was pregnant. The family of three we had always dreamed of was finally within reach. If he agreed to help me, it would prove he had moved on. And if he had, I could pretend I never saw any of this. But Toby just froze. A long moment passed before he finally said, “I’ve never competed officially.” His words made my desperate hope feel pathetic. Official records of him and Isabelle winning AI competitions together were still online. Toby was the most meticulous, careful person I knew. And yet, he was telling me a lie so clumsy, so easily disproven. I lowered my gaze, my voice barely a whisper. “Really?” “Then what are all these comments about?” 2 With the last shred of denial torn away, I lost control, screaming at him, demanding to know why. Toby was silent for a long time. “There’s no why,” he said finally, his voice flat. “I was in love with her. I still think about her sometimes. It’s that simple.” He watched my frantic outburst with a calm detachment. “Olivia, we’re married now. You don’t need to obsess over my past.” The irony was suffocating. “What if she came back now?” I challenged him. “What if she asked you to join her new AI lab? Would you go?” He didn’t answer. He just reached for me, trying to pull me into an embrace. I slapped his hand away, my eyes locked on his, demanding an answer. Toby sighed. “Alright, stop overthinking this. Go to bed.” His composure made me feel like an irrational, shrewish wife. Tears welled in my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall. I pushed again, my voice trembling. “Would you go, or not?” The comment section had mentioned that Isabelle had just returned to the country to start her own AI lab and was looking for a head of algorithms. Her fans were ecstatic, convinced this was the epic reunion they’d been waiting for, completely disregarding me, his legal wife. Toby’s lips pressed into a thin line. After a long silence, he said, “No, I wouldn’t go. Happy now?” Before the words had even fully settled in the air, his phone rang. The caller ID displayed a single, glaring name: Isabelle. Without a second thought, Toby grabbed his phone and started to walk away. I lunged forward, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. A tear finally escaped, hitting the cloth and spreading into a small, dark stain. “Answer it here!” We stood locked in a standoff. The ringing weakened, and perhaps fearing he would miss the call, Toby actually answered it right in front of me. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Isabelle.” Just one word, spoken with a depth of feeling that twisted my insides. A soft, gentle voice replied from the other end. “It’s me.” I felt Toby’s entire body go rigid. He was so stunned he forgot to pull his shirt from my grasp. Isabelle’s voice carried a hint of melancholy. “I’m so sorry to bother you this late. But… I didn’t know who else to call. The head of algorithms at my lab is causing a scene. He’s refusing to even show up for the final presentation, let alone come back to the States with me. But the project launch date here is fixed, and we can’t postpone it.” “I know this is a huge ask,” she continued, her voice soft and pleading, “but could you… could you come and save me? Just this once? Please, my algorithm genius.” 3 “But what about your international AI competition finals?” The question flew out of Toby’s mouth before he could stop it. Both Isabelle and I were stunned into silence. I never knew he could be so impulsive, especially when it came to her. My voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “You’re going to fly overseas to help her compete? Toby, tomorrow is Christmas Eve! Both our families are coming over for dinner!” I was going to announce my pregnancy then. For years, both our parents had been dropping hints. My mother-in-law would always sigh wistfully whenever she talked about her friends becoming grandparents. And Toby… Toby had always wanted a child. During our most intimate moments, he would whisper against my ear, his voice thick with tenderness, “Let’s have a baby, one just as sweet as you. What do you say?” On the phone, Isabelle’s voice suddenly cracked. “Toby… is that your… friend?” I cut in before he could answer. “We’re married.” There was a choked sound from the other end. Toby shot me a furious look, but still tried to reason with me. “It’s just technical support, Olivia.” Yes, just technical support. Then why was it “I’ve never competed” when I asked, but the moment she called, he was ready to drop everything and fly across the world for her? The silence crackled with tension. Isabelle was the first to speak. “You know what? Never mind.” “Wait,” Toby said hurriedly. He covered the receiver with his hand, pried my fingers from his shirt, and hissed, his voice dangerously low, “Can you please stop making a scene?” “She’s a girl, alone in a foreign country. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get to this point? What’s wrong with me helping her out as a friend?” I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. But it’s been hard for me to get here, too… This year was supposed to be my best chance at a promotion to team lead. But my performance had been unstable since I got pregnant. Our partners were worried about project delays and were even considering moving me off the core team. My friend had to fight to get me a spot in the post-holiday open-day presentation, but the algorithm engineer on my team said my code gave him anxiety and flat-out refused to partner with me. I’m not a genius. I’m the kind of person who has to code until my wrists ache just to keep up. Now, because of this pregnancy, I might lose everything I’ve worked for. But even so, I had never once regretted carrying his child. There was so much I wanted to say, so much pain I wanted to voice, but the moment I opened my mouth, the tears started to fall. Toby was already packing a bag, moving with a frantic urgency. He saw me crying and paused. I thought he would come hold me, like he always did. Or at the very least, offer a word of comfort. But all he said was a detached, “Drink some hot water when you’re done crying. I’m leaving.” My nails dug into my palms. My voice came out as a ragged whisper. “Are you really going? And you won’t regret this?” Toby stared at me for a long, hard moment, then lowered his eyes. “Get some sleep.” The front door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the vast, silent house. My hand rested gently on my stomach. I cried for a long, long time. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, I’d like to inquire about a painless abortion.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390263”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the seventh year after being brought back home, I had already followed my parents’ demands, married a man I didn’t like, and raised a three-year-old daughter. The fake heiress, one year older than me, still acted spoiled in my family’s arms because she was “still young.” The dispute between the real and fake heiress had long become a thing of the past. My home should have returned to peace. So, when I was about to be beaten to death by my husband, I called my family. “I’m dying. Can you come and pick Lily up, just like you picked me up back then?” 1 I knew I was finally dying, so I didn’t call 911, but called my family instead. Mom answered the phone. She was getting her nails done, her tone a bit impatient: “What is it?” I covered my constantly bleeding neck and said I was about to die, could they come and pick Lily up? Lily is only three years old, sleeping upstairs, completely unaware of the mess downstairs. My blood wouldn’t stop, broken pieces of a red wine bottle were beside me, and my husband, after committing the violence, fell on the sofa and slept soundly. “Ava, are you done yet? Putting on such a show every now and then!” My brother Ethan snatched the phone and cursed at me, “You’ve been married for four years. Every time you contact us, it’s either about divorce or saying you’re about to be beaten to death. Are you really that miserable!” I fell silent. Don’t know if I was numb from pain or lost too much blood, I felt a bit tired. Recalling the past, I’ve actually been tired for many years. Kidnapped at five, working like a slave in the mountains, never seeing the sun, tired until my back couldn’t straighten. Finally returned home at fifteen, facing the favored fake heiress, I lived carefully in the cracks, tired from secretly sobbing countless nights. Forced to marry at eighteen, married to a rich second-generation scumbag who liked domestic violence. To avoid being beaten, I could only be a humble and virtuous wife, working hard without complaint to coax him happy. Tired until every inch of my skin twitched. At twenty, I had severe depression, relying entirely on my daughter Lily’s smile to survive, staring into the abyss at the edge of the cliff every day, wanting to jump, but not daring to. Tired until my ears rang and eyes dazzled, heart stinging. Finally, at twenty-two, my carotid artery was cut by a piece of red wine bottle. Suddenly not tired anymore, because I can finally die. I answered Ethan: “This is not acting this time, I’m really dying. Can you come over immediately? I’m afraid of scaring Lily.” Actually, over so many years, I didn’t “act” many times. I only mentioned divorce to my family three times. They got annoyed, so I dared not mention it again. I also only mentioned being injured to my family four times. They didn’t believe it, so I stopped mentioning it. From being brought back home until now, a total of seven years, seven calls for help. Can’t be considered many, right? “Then go die. Once you’re dead, we’ll pick Lily up!” 2 Ethan hung up the phone. I knew he wouldn’t come to pick Lily up. Seven years, the eighth call for help, still failed. I smiled bleakly, leaning weakly against the wall, feeling half of my body was hot. Blood was rising with heat. Looked upstairs, quiet, Lily hadn’t woken up yet. Or maybe she woke up, but dared not come down. She must be shrinking under the quilt shivering. Thinking of this, my heart twisted in pain. Tried to get up, but my strength was exhausted. What to do? My daughter is so young, shivering under the quilt, but I can’t help her at all. After I die, if no one comes to pick her up, she will face that devil alone. How will she live? The phone suddenly vibrated, a message came. I gasped, trying hard to see the message clearly. It was from the fake heiress Bella. [Ava, today is my twenty-third birthday party. Family is accompanying me, so no one wants to pay attention to you.] [Actually, I don’t understand. You’ve already lost so thoroughly, why still refuse to give up?] I moved my lips, the smell of blood spreading. I didn’t refuse to give up, I just couldn’t let go of Lily. Don’t know where I got a bit of strength, I tried my best to send a voice message to Bella. Asking for help from this person I hated the most. “Bella… sorry, I was wrong… I shouldn’t have been hostile to you… shouldn’t have competed for favor with you… I kowtow to you, begging you to pick up my daughter…” Intermittently, I kept bleeding, and also weeping. The dignity of many years collapsed completely at this moment, crushed into the mud by myself. I never bowed to Bella. Because I always believed that I was the real daughter of the Gaines family, and she was just a counterfeit occupying the magpie’s nest. But now, I bowed. I admitted defeat. “What?” Bella was obviously stunned, then laughed loudly: “No way? You… too funny, you kowtow to me? Real or fake? Then kowtow quickly!” 3 Yes, kowtow to Bella. I held the voice message button, leaned my body down, and hit my head hard on the floor. Bang, bang, bang! The sound of kowtowing was sent, and I almost fainted, lying on the floor like a dog, panting heavily. Bella laughed loudly again: “No, you really kowtowed? Haha, honestly, it feels quite good. Seven years, I finally waited for you to admit defeat!” Yes, I admitted defeat. “Pick up Ava… home…” I shivered and sent the last voice message. Bella’s face changed instantly: “Ava, are you kidding me? Wasn’t it picking up your daughter? How did it become picking you up again? Subconsciously you still want to come back, right!” I was stunned, my brain muddy. Did I say pick up Ava home? No, I should say pick up Lily home! I don’t have to go home, but Lily must go home! But I had no strength to say a word anymore. “Ava, speak! Dared not make a sound after I exposed your thoughts?” Bella questioned me sternly. Her voice message also contained my dad’s majestic voice. “Ava, stop making trouble. I will visit the Reed family in half a month, I’ll see you then!” Half a month later, family finally coming to visit me? But I can’t wait, because I’m dying. Lily, sorry, Mom ultimately failed to let you escape this devil’s den. Hope there are ghosts in this world, so Mom can look at you a few more times. 4 Opening my eyes again, I was floating above my corpse. There really are ghosts in the world! It was already dawn, but the villa was quiet inside and out. My husband Lucas Reed had dismissed all the nannies long ago, forcing me to be the nanny, also making it convenient to abuse me unscrupulously. So, even during the day, no one would come to the villa. I found Lucas was about to wake up; his snoring stopped. I ignored him, hurried to float upstairs, and drilled into the bedroom. Lily was indeed shrinking under the quilt, eyes tightly closed, tears wetting the pillow. There was also a wet mark in the quilt; she wet the bed, but dared not move, just fell asleep like this. I was extremely heartbroken, bent down to touch her face, but my hand passed through. Lucas’s exclamation sounded downstairs. He probably discovered my body. Sure enough, he soon started dismembering the body. Even though I was already a ghost, I still felt chills all over my body. The evil of human nature was fully revealed in Lucas. But unfortunately, he was the ideal son-in-law my family fancied. Actually, initially, my parents wanted to marry Bella to Lucas. The two families had verbally agreed on the marriage alliance. The Reed Group behind Lucas is a leading enterprise in the city, and Lucas himself is handsome and promising. Bella also liked him very much and even dated him. But later scandals about Lucas came out. He abused a girl to death in a bar, causing extremely bad influence. Parents and brother got worried, afraid Lucas was a beast in human skin with a perverted personality, so they decided not to let Bella get too close to Lucas. But they couldn’t break ties with the Reed family, so they let me marry over instead of Bella. [Ava is our biological daughter, she is a better match for Young Master Reed.] [Our Ava is virtuous and gentle, unlike Bella, running around all day, not ladylike at all!] [Bella refuses to have children, she herself is a child who won’t grow up, better not marry her out first, to avoid embarrassing us!] At that time, my parents said so. Every word was disliking Bella, finally making the Reed family nod and marry me. Thinking about it now, that dislike in every word was clearly full of love. I smiled self-deprecatingly and floated into the bathroom to watch Lucas dismember the body. 5 Lucas looked pale, cursing while chopping bones. He seemed to insult me to comfort himself. Called me a slut, said I was used by hundreds of men, completely unworthy of him. I deserved to die! I didn’t understand, how was I a slut? Lucas’s self-talk gave the answer: “Don’t blame me, you slut. Bella told me long ago, don’t know how many customers you took in the village, even had abortions and gave birth, what face do you have to marry me? “I abused you because you deserved it, you died because you asked for it!” I realized then, it turned out Bella was behind this. No wonder when I first married Lucas, he was friendly and treated me with respect. But later his temperament changed suddenly, abusing me unscrupulously, eventually causing my death. Bella, you are so cruel. Clearly I had lost so thoroughly, you still wouldn’t let me go. When the sun set in the west, Lucas finally finished. He bagged my body piece by piece, filling two large refrigerators. Then cleaned up the living room to look brand new, leaving no trace. Don’t know when Lily got out of bed, she squatted by the second-floor handrail, looking downstairs timidly. Lucas looked up and glanced at her, tone gloomy like an evil ghost: “Lily, what did you see?” Lily dared not make a sound. “I told you to speak!” Lucas shouted violently, scaring Lily into shaking her head quickly: “No… don’t know…” I was both heartbroken and angry, wishing I could bite Lucas to death. But couldn’t touch him at all. Lucas snorted coldly, grabbed a few bags of bread from the snack cabinet and threw them upstairs. “You are not allowed downstairs. Dare to come down, I’ll break your legs!” Lily nodded in horror and scurried into the bedroom. Lucas didn’t stay any longer, carrying a bag of meat pieces, hurrying out while it was dark. Lily then carefully slipped out, looked around on the stairs for a long time, then trembled and moved downstairs. My heart lifted, what was Lily going to do? Saw her walk to the refrigerator, forcefully prying open the lower refrigerator door. My head was hidden in a pile of frozen meat. “Mommy…” Lily called out. My tears came down. She saw everything. 6 The following days were days for Lucas to dump the body. He took part of the body pieces out every day. But sometimes brought them back home to freeze again. The bustling big city wasn’t easy for dumping bodies. At least my head stayed frozen in the refrigerator. Lily was very obedient, only sneaking down to see me after Lucas went out, then running back to the bedroom crying. Her eating, drinking, and bathroom needs were all on the second floor, food only snacks and bread. Such days were desperate and suffocating even for adults. I was unspeakably heartbroken, finally floating out of the villa, hoping to find a way. Unknowingly, floated to my parents’ home. That villa familiar yet strange to me, emitting warm light. I floated in like a ghost, seeing Bella throwing a tantrum on the sofa. “Agreed to go traveling tomorrow, I’ve done all the planning!” Bella is obviously one year older than me, but always acts like a child at home. My dad smiled dotingly: “Dad got confused, have to go to Reed Group to sign a new round of contracts tomorrow, stop by to see your sister by the way. Dad will take you traveling the day after tomorrow.” “Yes Bella, contract matters can’t be delayed, don’t throw a temper.” Mom shook her head, but her mouth was full of smiles. Brother Ethan flipping through documents looked up: “I’ll go sign the contract, you guys accompany Bella traveling, that’s important.” “Yes yes yes, I want to travel!” Bella kicked her legs throwing a tantrum, very willful. Honestly, I envied her. Kidnapped for ten years, when have I ever acted spoiled like this? After coming home, where did I dare to act spoiled like this? Only in vague memories, when I was five, could I act spoiled unscrupulously. “This…” Dad hesitated, “Have to go see Ava, haven’t visited her for many years after all.” Hearing this, Bella’s face turned black, arms crossed humming: “Fine, go then, after all she is your biological daughter.” Dad was anxious instantly, coaxing like a child: “I didn’t mean that. I just think not visiting for too long, the Reed family will think we don’t care, looking down on them.” Mom chimed in: “Yes, marriage alliance between two families, should pay attention. “How about this, tomorrow I accompany you traveling, your dad goes to sign the contract.” Bella was satisfied then, eating dessert smilingly. The family was happy and harmonious again. I floated silently in mid-air, motionless for a long time. Mom suddenly glanced at me, naturally seeing nothing. But she rubbed her chest, muttering: “Don’t know what happened, suddenly palpitations.” “Mom, are you okay?” Ethan asked. Dad and Bella also looked at Mom. Mom waved her hand: “Fine, can’t say what’s wrong, seems a bit uneasy, maybe getting old.” The family laughed. Bella quickly praised Mom for still being young and beautiful, causing Mom to laugh. Just she kept rubbing her chest.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390279”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was a supporting female character with a terminal illness. Before I died, I asked the tyrannical CEO, “When is the heroine’s next ovulation date?” The CEO cursed angrily: “What? Do you still want to harm her?” I shook my head and explained: “No, I just want to be reincarnated as your daughter in my next life and torture you to death!” 1 On the day I died, Ethan Cole, the male lead I had been obsessing over for 10 years without success, stood at my bedside holding a bouquet of blooming red roses. “Do you like them?” I nodded. Ethan waved the flowers in front of me, then threw them into the trash can, adding meanly: “I’d rather throw them away than give them to you.” The corner of my mouth twitched, feeling a bit speechless inside, but I decided to ignore him and directly said my last line: “In this life, I have ultimately… paid the wrong price!!” After performing heart-wrenchingly, I closed my eyes peacefully. Unexpectedly. What I waited for was not the notification sound of leaving this dimension. Instead, I got a needle in my butt. “Ah—” I opened my eyes in pain, meeting Ethan’s face full of disdain and contempt. He crossed his arms lazily and instructed the doctor: “Don’t let her die. Inject as much adrenaline as you can. Also, unplug the oxygen mask; it’s a waste of money. For such a vicious woman who has done so much evil, she shouldn’t die easily. Torture her severely, make her beg for life but unable to live, beg for death but unable to die!” “?” The doctor glanced at me sympathetically and raised the syringe again, aiming for my butt. “Hold the needle!” I stopped him. And spat at Ethan: “You will be punished for treating a dying person like this!” “Luna Miller, you really are a dead pig not afraid of boiling water. Still stubborn when death is imminent.” Ethan lit a cigarette and shamelessly blew the smoke into my face, making me cough from the second-hand smoke. “Cough cough—” Seeing that I couldn’t even speak properly, a wave of grievance filled my heart. Very good! Ethan, you forced me! I quickly grabbed Ethan’s clothes and asked ferociously: “Tell me, how many days until Stella’s follicles mature, gradually migrate to the surface of the ovary and protrude outward, finally thinning the cells near the surface of the ovary, and finally rupturing causing most of the follicular fluid to flow out?” Ethan didn’t understand. He frowned, confused: “What?” My teeth itched with anger, hating this uncultured bumpkin CEO. No choice. I could only ask bluntly: “What date is Stella’s next ovulation period?” Ethan raged: “What? Do you still want to harm her?” I sneered: “You don’t truly love her. You can’t even remember this clearly. What kind of good man can’t remember a woman’s physiological period!” “Bullshit, who said I don’t remember!” Ethan took out his phone. It’s hard to imagine he actually downloaded a period tracking app on his phone. It accurately prompts the user’s ovulation period, physiological period, and fertile period. Ethan muttered unconsciously while looking: “So it’s the 19th of this month…” Realizing he slipped up, he started venting on me again. “You poisonous woman, did you think of some shady trick to provoke me and Stella again? I tell you, no way!” I shook my head and explained: “No, I just want to be reincarnated as your daughter in my next life and torture you to death!” “Alright, off to reincarnation.” After speaking, I happily kicked the bucket. The main point was not to dawdle. Not to add trouble to the medical staff. In the last second before my consciousness disappeared, I still heard Ethan roar in panic: “No—don’t let her die! Shock her! Shock her back to life!” 2 After death, I floated in the air, watching Ethan work overtime until 2 AM every night before going home. The reason was, Stella wanted to carry out a baby-making plan with him. Ethan watched the calendar approach the 19th day by day, stubble growing on his chin. Finally. On the night of the 19th, Stella sneaked into the office to catch her Ethan and forced herself on him. For the scenes not suitable for children, I chose to see no evil, hear no evil. Finally. 10 minutes later, I waited for that last moment. Ethan looked up and shouted: “No—” And I, quickly turning into a white light, ran towards them: “Charge—” 3 When I was conscious again. I was already a tiny life. Although I couldn’t see or move, I could hear the outside sounds: “Hubby, good news, I’m pregnant!” This delicate lolita voice was 100% the heroine of this dimension, Stella. But next came Ethan’s fearful and trembling voice: “No, we can’t keep this child.” “Why?” Stella’s voice immediately turned cold. Ethan thought for a moment, lowering his voice as if afraid I would hear: “I consulted a master. A child conceived on the 19th is a cursed star, the reincarnation of an evil landlord. If born, it can only be a devil child. Can’t keep it, can’t keep it.” “Be good, let’s wait a few years!” Stella sneered: “What excuses are you making?” “I think you are mourning. Your childhood sweetheart sister Luna died, you are heartbroken and want to mourn for her for three years, can’t have happy events, right?” Ethan quickly defended himself: “Babe, what nonsense are you talking about? I never liked her. I’m too happy she died.” “Okay okay okay, we’ll keep it, we’ll keep it.” At 2 AM. I heard Ethan, who hadn’t slept yet, seemingly kowtowing to Stella’s belly: “Please, as long as it’s not Luna, even if you are Red Boy or the Bull Demon King, it’s fine.” “If really not possible, even if it’s a lazy sheep, I can accept it.” Then he started talking to himself, doing psychological counseling for himself: “No, it won’t be that coincidental that she can succeed in reincarnation here. Coincidence, everything is a coincidence.” “Amitabha, Buddha bless…” … A few months later. Ethan took Stella for a checkup. Stella said she wanted a daughter. The examining doctor smiled gently and said: “Then maybe your dream will come true.” The atmosphere was originally lively. If Ethan hadn’t screamed. “She!! She gave me a peace sign!” Stella and the doctor cast him a look reserved for idiots. Ethan, a dignified 6’2″ man, was shaking in front of the ultrasound machine. “That… the child my wife is carrying… just now, in that image, gave me a peace sign…” He tried to explain to everyone. But who would believe such absurd words. The doctor smoothed things over with a smile: “Oh, look, your husband is just too excited. Although a six-month-old child has hands and feet, they can’t make a peace sign.” Inside Stella’s belly, I almost laughed myself out of breath. Yes, I just made a peace sign. Just to scare this son of a b*tch to death. The night after the checkup. I heard Ethan brainwashing himself again: “No, no… even if it’s a daughter, it’s not necessarily her. Ethan, don’t scare yourself. Relax, God definitely won’t make things difficult for you.” 4 The day I was born was probably Ethan’s most desperate day. I heard the nurse ask Stella several times: “Mother, where is your husband?” Stella said: “He probably has a phobia of not being ready to be a father. He went to the toilet 30 times in an hour.” Pity. Even if Ethan blew up the toilet, I still had to be born. “Wah wah—” With my crying as I fell to the ground. The nurse happily held me to Ethan: “Congratulations Mr. Cole, your wife gave birth to a daughter.” I carefully opened one eye to look at Ethan. Ethan looked panicked. He grabbed the nurse like he was having a seizure and asked: “Nurse, do you think this child looks like me and my wife?” The nurse froze. She stammered: “Looks like… very much like…” Ethan breathed a sigh of relief, finally showing a trace of a smile on his face: “That’s good, that’s good.” I almost laughed out loud. Did the nurse dare to say no? Ethan put me back in the crib and pushed the still sleeping Stella back to the private ward. While patting my back gently, he sighed: “Haha, my luck is so good.” “Luna Miller, you still failed! Hahaha, hahahaha—” While the nurses went out to handle the birth procedures. I opened my eyes and gave Ethan a 45-degree smile. Using a milky voice, I said: “Grandson, Daddy is here for revenge!” Ethan’s smile froze on his face. He mechanically, frame by frame, turned back to look at me: “What, did, you, say.” Because I was just born and my speech was a bit slurred, I repeated with a lisp: “Son, I am your daaaad—” Before I could finish the rest. Ethan stood up, his trembling hands strangling my neck: “Luna! You little brat, now I am your dad!” “Believe it or not, I’ll strangle you!” I stuck out my tongue: “Strangle, strangle now!” Ethan really did it, not afraid of snapping my weak and fragile throat. I started wailing directly: “Wah wah ah wah wah wah—” The more I cried, the harder Ethan squeezed. Crying until the end, I didn’t even have the strength to make a sound. Without looking in the mirror, I could guess that my pink and jade-carved little face had been turned blue and black by this dog man. “Hehe, die!” Ethan prepared to increase the intensity again. At the critical moment, Stella suddenly woke up. Not knowing where she got the strength, she got up from the delivery bed and kicked Ethan straight on: “If you break my sister’s wings, I will destroy your entire heaven.” Me: “?” Ethan: “?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390311”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was married to my nemesis—a power couple in name only. We kept separate lives, a perfect, icy truce. While she made a spectacle of chasing a younger guy, I drowned my sorrow over the woman who was my one perfect memory, my guiding star. But her boy toy, Brody Wells, didn’t believe our marriage was a formality. He didn’t trust that his queen was truly his. To test the waters—and perhaps my resolve—he’d sneak into our marital penthouse in the dead of night. He once torched the million-dollar, custom-made wedding gown I’d commissioned in Italy, the one I had intended for Nora. Another time, he’d feign drunkenness and deliberately lose the wedding band my wife never took off. And every few days, he’d post veiled threats on social media, trying to challenge my status as the legitimate husband. My wife, Sloan, would call, her voice laced with weary annoyance. “The kid is jealous, I…” I’d cut her off impatiently. “Replace the ring. Fix the damage. Just don’t bother me.” I genuinely thought we’d keep this arrangement forever: mutually undisturbed, existing in parallel hells. Until Brody, emboldened by Sloan’s blind protection, went too far. He used Sloan’s name to steal the specialist appointment I had practically crawled on my knees to secure for Nora. My Nora died because of that delay. It was then I understood. Sloan Harrington and I could never be well again. For the rest of this life, we were each other’s consequence, two people destined to destroy one another. 1 I watched as Nora Clarke’s body was moved into the cremation chamber, reduced to a handful of ash. I held her urn, my arms shaking, and buried her myself. Staring at the beautiful, radiant smile etched onto her headstone, the suffocating grief I’d been holding back surged forward, a tidal wave threatening to drown me whole. I knelt at her grave, tearless, my face a terrifying mask of ice. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I traced the outline of her photograph, sitting there from dawn until the sky was pitch-black. “Nora, I have to go now. Someone has to pay for this. Don’t rush to cross over. Wait for me. I’ll exact my revenge, and then I’ll come find you.” Reluctantly, I walked away from the cemetery gates. I had a debt to collect for her, no matter the cost, even if it meant sacrificing my own life. The accumulated grief in my chest curdled, transforming into towering, consuming rage. Nora shouldn’t have died. I had secured Dr. Vaughn’s coveted treatment slot—the slot I’d practically mortgaged my soul for—only for Sloan to use my wife’s authority to hand it to her beloved Brody Wells for a common cold. By the time I realized the theft, Dr. Vaughn, infuriated by the scheduling error, had already flown overseas. I could only watch, helpless, as Nora took her last breath in my arms. Slamming the gas pedal to the floor, I drove like a fugitive, the speedometer needle touching the absolute maximum. I randomly called Sloan’s number. She picked up instantly. “Carl Owen. Are you finally calling to surrender? If you kneel and beg me, I might—might—forgive you for your decades of neglect, and perhaps even graciously save that little tramp of yours.” Sloan’s mocking voice echoed from the receiver, followed by a chorus of laughter from the people around her. “The great Owen is finally cracking? Honestly, Cal, you need to be the bigger man. Apologize. When you get here, we’ll all bear witness!” “Owen, remember to bring a case of the good stuff. We need to see your sincerity, don’t we?” “And he definitely has to buy Brody a gift, or Nora the short-lived ghost can forget about getting any help from our dear Sloan.” My rationality, already frayed, was incinerated completely the moment I heard them use Nora’s name like that. “Fine. Give me the address,” I said, my voice dry and gravelly. I hung up the second I got the location. The roar of the engine mixed with the frantic thump-thump of my heart as the tires screamed on the pavement. I slammed the brakes at the entrance of the exclusive private club, snatched a steel baton from a security booth, and stormed towards the private dining suite. I kicked the door open, meeting Sloan’s bored, casual gaze. “Well, Mr. Owen. Where is Brody’s gift?” The sycophantic girl who had just called Nora a “short-lived ghost” stepped closer, a smirk plastered on her face. I raised the baton and brought it down hard across her head. A fountain of hot, visceral crimson instantly erupted. “Carl Owen, you’re insane!” 2 She screamed. Before anyone could process what was happening, I had snatched Brody Wells, who stood apart, grinning smugly at my arrival. I swung the baton again, bringing it down with crushing force onto his shoulder. He let out a shriek of raw agony, and that finally jolted Sloan back to reality. She shoved me away and quickly shielded Brody behind her. “Carl Owen! Are you losing it? You’re acting like a rabid dog, tearing apart the furniture!” She glared at me, her brow furrowed with pure disgust. I walked toward her, one slow step at a time. The baton in my hand was gripped so tightly my knuckles were white. “Yes, Sloan. I lost it. The moment you took Nora’s last chance at life and gave it to this animal, I lost everything.” Hearing Nora’s name, Sloan let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. “Still obsessed with that little tramp? Did she call you to complain? She really is a useless thing who can only rely on a man…” I cut her off with a sharp, stinging slap across her face. “You don’t have the right to speak her name, you criminal!” My slap ignited a rage in Sloan that matched my own. She stood up, poking my chest with a manicured finger, her voice a low, venomous growl. “A slut is a slut! Why can’t I mention her? Don’t forget, you are still my husband, Carl Harrington!” Her eyes were filled with hatred. She grabbed a nearby steak knife and pressed the point lightly against my cheek. “Come on, dear husband. Apologize to my Brody-bear.” “Maybe if my mood improves, I’ll even let that tramp live a few more days.” With the knife pressed against me, I was unable to fight. She forced me to crouch down like a dog in front of Brody. I curled my lip into a smile. “Fine. If you can save Nora, I’ll kowtow to him. I’ll grovel.” Sloan’s face instantly chilled, only to snap back into a sneer a second later. “Perfect. I’d like to see just how low you’ll sink for that slut!” The instant she removed the knife, I lunged like a starved wolf, pulling Brody to the floor, sinking my teeth into his neck artery—I wanted to rip him apart! Sloan screamed for her security guards to drag me off. My head hit the floor, but I felt no pain. Only sheer, savage release. I let out a rattling laugh, cold eyes fixed on Brody as he wailed in terror, blood soaking his shirt. Sloan walked over, had a guard yank me up by the collar, and looked me dead in the eye, her expression vile. “You ungrateful, lowlife piece of trash! Since you won’t do it the easy way, you can strip naked, kneel on the floor, and beg Brody for forgiveness!” “Otherwise…” I wiped the blood from my lips and met her gaze fearlessly. “Otherwise what?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390366”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’ve always lived as my sister’s shadow. I endured my parents’ cold neglect and the cruelty of school bullies. If it had been my sister, Emily, who was bullied, Mom and Dad would have believed her instantly. They would have burned the world down for her. But none of that matters now. In my next life, I’m going to pick parents who actually love me. 1 After writing those final words, I jumped from the sixth floor without a second thought. Thud. It hurt. Then, I was floating. I watched myself lying in a hospital bed, tubes snaking out of my body like vines. The heart monitor beeped weakly, and my face was the color of chalk. My parents, Professor Thomas Vance and Helen Vance, sat by the bed, looking haggard. Mom broke the silence with a complaint: “I just scolded her a little, and she jumps? I wasn’t wrong. She’s nothing compared to Emily.” True. I never measured up to my dead sister. Even my suicide attempt was messy, a waste of hospital resources. Dad lowered his voice to a harsh whisper: “Helen, stop it. Look at her. Is this the time for complaints? We already lost Emily. Do you want to lose Ava too? We’re getting old. It’s too late to have another one. Who’s going to take care of us when we’re senile?” So that’s it. I’m just a replacement and a retirement plan. They didn’t believe my note. They didn’t care why I jumped. I wish I had just died on impact. A doctor called them into his office. I floated after them. The doctor looked grave. “Professor Vance, your daughter’s condition is critical. Multiple organ damage, but the bigger issue is her will to live. It’s almost non-existent. You need to stimulate her brain. Talk to her. Read to her. Find something she cares about.” They nodded, went home, and returned with a stack of my old diaries. 2 Mom flipped open my elementary school diary with a look of impatience and started to read. June 1, 2010 My name is Ava Vance. My aunt says I was only born because my sister, Emily, said on her deathbed: “In my next life, I want to be Mommy’s baby again.” Emily died in a car crash at seventeen. Except for a beauty mark under my eye, I’m nothing like her. Emily loved pink. I love blue. But to make Mom and Dad love me, I wear pink. Always pink. Even if the love they give me is really meant for Emily, I take it. Because they are all I have. Today was Children’s Day. My deskmate, Mia, wore a beautiful blue dress. I couldn’t stop staring at it. Mia saw how much I loved it and offered to switch clothes with me after the school performance so I could wear it for a bit. I was too scared to go outside, so I hid in the bathroom stall to put it on. Mia said I looked pretty, that blue was my color. She was taking pictures of me when Mom found us. She went berserk. She ripped the blue dress off my body and slapped me across the face, over and over, screaming curses. It hurt. I felt humiliated. I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. Mia tried to stop her. Mom lost her mind and hit Mia too, boxing her ear until it bled. Mia’s mom came to our house to demand an explanation. My mom screamed back: “Your daughter deserved it! Who told her to trade clothes with mine? Trying to stop me from disciplining my own child? If she hadn’t interfered, I wouldn’t have hit her! My daughter cannot wear blue!” Mia never spoke to me again. She went partially deaf in one ear. I lost my only friend. The whole class knew. They stayed away from me like I was contagious. Dad sighed after Mom finished reading. Mom defended herself, her voice hard. “When I saw that blue dress… I thought of the day Emily died. She was wearing blue. Our Emily was only seventeen. Seeing that color… it scares me.” Scared of blue? No. It’s just because Emily didn’t like blue. But even wearing pink, I was never as smart as Emily. 3 The next day, Dad read. April 25, 2010 We got our math tests back. I got an 87. The teacher sighed, looking disappointed. “If it were Emily, she would have gotten a perfect score.” But I really tried. After school, I was too scared to go home. No perfect score means no dinner, and probably a beating. I wandered around the neighborhood, waiting for it to get dark. A strange man tried to talk to me. I ignored him. He got angry, grabbed me, and started dragging me into an alley. I screamed and fought. A teenage boy shouted: “Hey! Put my sister down! I’m calling my dad!” The boy pointed at a man walking in the distance. The stranger dropped me and ran. The boy comforted me. I told him why I was afraid to go home. He said: “87 is a great score! Your parents are probably worried sick. Even if they loved your sister more, they can’t love you zero. Maybe they’re just bad at showing it. Come on, I’ll walk you home.” His words gave me hope. Maybe he was right. How could they not love me at all? He walked me to my door. I felt a mix of fear and hope. 4 Mom was waiting at the door. When she saw me, her face crumpled with worry. She pulled me into a hug. “Ava! Where have you been? I was worried sick!” Was this a dream? Mom really worried about me? The boy was right! Tears filled my eyes. Her hug was so warm. “This nice boy walked me home,” I said. Mom thanked him profusely, looking at me with what seemed like love. The boy left, happy he had helped. I closed the door gently. I turned around. Mom’s face had instantly transformed into a mask of rage. She was holding the long wooden ruler. She snatched my backpack, ripped out the test paper, and saw the score. “87?! I told you, perfect scores only! You useless waste! Is it that hard to get 100? When will you be like your sister? You aren’t my child!” It was all fake. The love was a performance for the neighbor boy. The ruler came down on me, harder and harder. I screamed, begging for mercy. A neighbor knocked to ask what was happening. Mom charmed them away, then came back and beat me harder. “Shut up! Stop crying! You want the whole world to know? You think that will save you?” She tied my hands and feet and taped my mouth shut. She switched to a bamboo cane. Pain wracked my body. I twisted on the floor like a worm. She didn’t stop until I had a nosebleed and she was exhausted. I limped to my room and curled up in the corner, licking my wounds. I hugged myself. Maybe I really wasn’t her child. That’s why she beat me so hard. Where was my real mom? When would she come save me? 5 Dad finished reading. Silence filled the room. “Helen,” Dad said slowly. “Although Ava isn’t Emily, you promised me you wouldn’t hit her anymore. The neighbors asked questions. I had to explain… it’s embarrassing for a family like ours.” Embarrassing. His reputation mattered more than my pain. Mom huffed. “I did it for her own good! Spare the rod, spoil the child. Emily got perfect scores, so Ava has to get them too! That’s the only way she’ll be like Emily. Besides, her grades went up after that, didn’t they? And I haven’t hit her since!” Haven’t hit me since? She hit me so often she forgot. 6 Dad didn’t argue. He acquiesced. I wasn’t excellent like Emily. I couldn’t bring him glory. No one praised Professor Vance for his parenting anymore. Instead, family friends would look at me and sigh. “Such a pity about Emily. So talented.” “Ava just isn’t as sharp as her sister.” “Emily was accepted to Harvard early. A tragedy.” I became obsessed with the ghost of my sister. I wanted to know the person who cast such a long shadow. I wanted to see her room. Mom kept it locked. She cleaned it herself. No one was allowed inside. One afternoon, she forgot to lock it. 7 Dad drank some water and tossed the diary to Mom. She picked it up. September 27, 2013 The door was unlocked. I finally went inside Emily’s room. It was pink, just like mine. It was pristine. Not a speck of dust. In the corner, a beautiful ballet tutu hung on a mannequin. One wall was covered in awards. Trophies piled up on the desk. Sister was amazing. I don’t have any trophies. There were framed photos everywhere. Emily solo. Emily and Mom. Emily and Dad. The three of them, laughing. They looked so happy. They never smiled at me like that. Mom came home early. She found me. 8 She stormed in, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me out. She screamed like a banshee: “Who said you could go in there?! You are unworthy of stepping foot in Emily’s room! Look at her honors! She is my pride, my treasure! You are a waste of space! A disgrace! I should never have given birth to you! You will never be her!” I hugged her legs, crying. “I know I shouldn’t have gone in, but I just wanted to know what I had to do to make you love me! I wear pink because she liked it! I do everything like her! Mom, I’m your child too! Can’t you love me just a little?” Mom shook me off, looking at me with cold disgust. “Emily is my only daughter. My love is hers. Even if she’s dead. You should be grateful you’re alive and enjoying her things. If I knew you’d turn out like this, I would have strangled you in the cradle.” She grabbed my hair again, trying to smash my head against the wall. Dad came home and stopped her. 9 Mom cut off my lunch money. “You think you’re grown? Go earn your own money then!” Dad said nothing. For a week, I watched my classmates eat lunch. My stomach growled. I lied and said I wasn’t hungry. One afternoon, I fainted from hunger. The school called Dad because Mom refused to come. Dad was furious—because he lost face. A professor’s daughter fainting from hunger? He yelled at Mom at home. Mom yelled back, blaming him for not noticing. They fought. I got my allowance back. Reading this entry, Mom showed no remorse. “I was teaching her a lesson! Rules are rules! Starving a couple of meals never killed anyone. She needed to learn obedience!” So I stopped asking for love. I learned to lie.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390387”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend left me to die in a burning building to save his “first love.” Consumed by the flames, I was reborn back to the day he confessed his feelings to me. Amidst the cheers of the crowd, I rejected him cold. Instead, I walked towards the quiet, brooding boy in the shadows. He grabbed my wrist, his voice trembling: “Didn’t you say you were going to marry me when we grew up?” 1 “Say yes! Say yes!” When I opened my eyes, Caleb Vance was holding a massive bouquet of red roses, smiling at me. But my mind was flooded with memories of the fire. I saw Caleb firmly carrying his “white moonlight,” Layla, out of the inferno. He walked away without looking back. He didn’t even glance at me. In my despair, I prayed to God: If I get another chance, I will never choose him. I will run as far away from him as possible. Suddenly, a voice echoed: “Are you sure?” I was resolute: “Yes.” I didn’t expect to actually wake up on the day Caleb asked me out. 2 Caleb and I were childhood sweethearts. Everyone knew I loved him. At the start of senior year, he confessed to me after evening study hall. That day, I thought our feelings were finally mutual. I thought we were meant to be. Later, I found out he only asked me out to make Layla jealous. Even through college and after graduation, he was entangled with her. Every time he had to choose between us, I was the one left behind. I finally woke up and asked for a divorce. But Layla showed up at my door to provoke me. Then the fire happened. I waited for rescue, but all I saw was Caleb holding Layla, walking away without a backward glance. In that moment, my heart died. So, this time, amidst the cheers of our classmates… I rejected him. The noisy football field fell silent instantly. In my past life, I was Caleb’s shadow. I chased him, cared for him, brought him breakfast every day, gave him water during gym class, bought his school supplies, organized his test papers, and waited for him after school. Everyone with eyes knew I loved him. Caleb’s face darkened instantly. “Sunny, say that again?” I looked at him and sneered. “I’ll say it a hundred times. Caleb Vance, I don’t want to be your girlfriend. I don’t like you. We’re seniors now; I just want to study.” The crowd gasped. Whispers erupted around us: [I’d believe the earth is flat before I believe Sunny doesn’t like Caleb.] [Maybe she’s playing hard to get?] [But getting rejected publicly? Caleb looks like he’s gonna explode.] I didn’t want to be the center of attention. I turned to leave, but Caleb grabbed my wrist, suppressing his rage. “Sunny, are you crazy?” Am I crazy? You should ask yourself that. Layla told me later that he only confessed to me because he was mad at her. They had a fight, and Layla flirted with another guy in their class. Furious, Caleb turned around and confessed to me. Because he was certain I loved him. He knew I wouldn’t say no. He wanted Layla to beg for forgiveness, so he used my feelings as a pawn. I looked down at my reddening wrist and peeled his fingers off one by one. I pointed at the girl standing at the back of the crowd. “You like her, don’t you? You two fight, and I’m the sacrifice? What am I, a clown?” 3 Caleb froze. He looked at Layla’s retreating figure, then back at me, his eyes warning. “Sunny, are you done making a scene? Why drag other people into our business?” A scene? His defensive posture just confirmed everything. I pulled my hand away and enunciated every word: “Caleb Vance, do you speak English? I said, I. Don’t. Like. You.” He scoffed. “If you don’t like me, who else could you like?” Seventeen years of affection gave him the confidence to believe I couldn’t live without him. But I fought hard to be reborn. I just want to live for myself. I walked past Caleb toward the boy standing alone in the crowd. The class valedictorian, Ethan Hunt. I stood next to him and said to Caleb, “I like studying. I want to go to Harvard.” Then I turned to Ethan: “Hey genius, I might need your help with tutoring from now on.” 4 After rejecting Caleb, we entered a cold war. Everyone bet I wouldn’t last a day before crawling back to him. I smiled. And placed my own bet. [Forever.] [No way, did Sunny hit her head?] [Whisper: Caleb is furious. Sunny didn’t bring him breakfast, and he’s already thrown a tantrum this morning.] Not my problem. I just want to study. I just want him to leave me alone. My grades were actually good in high school. But in my past life, after getting together with Caleb senior year, I followed him to a local state college. I found out later he stayed local because Layla was here too. He did it on purpose. I opened my backpack and found the expensive stationery set I bought for Caleb. As I took it out, I heard Caleb’s desk mate say, “See? Told you she wouldn’t last the morning.” Caleb looked smug, waiting for me to present it to him. I took everything out. And handed it to my desk mate, Ethan. “Here, genius. A little bribe in advance. I’ll be bothering you a lot.” Honestly, Ethan and I barely interacted in my past life. He was always studying. I asked him a few questions once. But I vaguely remembered him asking where I wanted to go to college. Back then, my world revolved around Caleb. So I pointed at Caleb and said, “Wherever he goes, I go.” Ethan didn’t say anything. Now, as I gave him the supplies, he looked up at me. His cool gaze held a hint of curiosity. I smiled frankly. “Sorry if this is weird. If you don’t want it, I’ll throw it away.” Hearing “throw it away,” Caleb’s face turned ugly. He kicked the leg of the desk in front of him. But to my surprise, Ethan said “Thanks” and accepted it. 5 After deciding to study and stay away from them, I realized how far behind I was from my dream school. But I fell in love with the feeling of battling math problems late into the night. I loved discussing different solutions with the top students, the feeling of enlightenment. Life without revolving around Caleb was actually fun. Soon, the senior year pep rally arrived. In my past life, I was pushed onto the stage and goaded into confessing to Caleb again. What did I say? Oh right. “Youth should have no regrets. Love who you love. I’m confident I can get into the same college as Caleb Vance. The rest of the time, let’s enjoy our youth!” The whole school was shocked. Parents were called. Thinking back, I want to punch my past self. This time, I stood quietly in the crowd, memorizing vocab words, trying to be invisible. But during the open mic session, a girl shouted, “Doesn’t Sunny know public speaking? Let her say something for our class!” Others chimed in: “Haha, is she going to confess to Caleb again? Embarrassing.” “Didn’t she reject him? Is she trying to beg for him back now?” “I bet she doesn’t dare.” “Yeah, she’s chicken.” “So lame. She bet she wouldn’t apologize, but she’s still a simp.” I took a deep breath. It was coming. They wanted to see me fail. I understood. I spent 17 years chasing Caleb. Even he thought I was just throwing a tantrum. Only I knew how precious this second chance was. I turned to look at Caleb, not far behind me. Our eyes met. He looked triumphant in his uniform, chin raised, waiting for me to get on stage and apologize publicly, to wash away the humiliation of my rejection. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan looking at me too. For some reason, I felt guilty. Encouraged by the teacher, I stepped up to the podium. Behind me, whispers: “If Sunny doesn’t confess today, I’ll lose respect for her.” “Caleb is the man. You can’t spoil women.” “…” Looking at the sea of faces, I adjusted the mic and spoke clearly and confidently: “Good morning, teachers and students. I am Sunny from Class 1.” “The September breeze brings the scent of new beginnings. Shouldering the hopes of our mentors and carrying our own dreams, we face the dawn of the entrance exams. I solemnly swear: Sharp swords come from grinding, plum blossoms bloom from the bitter cold. Nine years of hard work for one moment of glory. I will give it my all. I hope everyone persists and fights for this year. Let our dreams set sail!” Thunderous applause greeted me. In my past life, after my confession, I heard whistles, jeers, and boos. I finally changed the trajectory. But I didn’t expect Caleb to block my path after the assembly. “Sunny, we need to talk.” 6 “I have nothing to talk to you about.” I didn’t even give him a second glance. I walked straight toward the classroom. Caleb chased after me, grabbing my arm. Ignoring my struggles, he dragged me to the side of the field. “What is wrong with you?” He frowned, questioning me. I shook him off. “How many times do I have to say it? I just want to study.” I tried to leave. He blocked me with his arm, eyes full of disbelief. “Study all you want, but why didn’t you bring me breakfast? Why did you give my stuff to someone else? Why didn’t you wait for me after school? Why did you rej—” He choked on the last word. I finished it for him. “Why can’t I reject you? Are you a hundred-dollar bill? Does everyone have to love you?” He was furious, grinding his teeth to keep control. Yeah. Before, he was the one rejecting me. He was high and mighty, only caring about himself. He enjoyed my devotion while giving all his love to someone else. And me? I was grateful for crumbs. I was so stupid. Like he was the last man on earth. After a long silence, Caleb spat out, “Sunny, you’ve changed.” I looked up at him. “Caleb, I was blind to like you. Go be happy with your Layla. Stop buzzing around me like a fly.” I walked away. Behind me, Caleb growled, “Fine, Sunny. Don’t regret this.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390403”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On the day our annual bonuses were supposed to be paid out, the boss suddenly tagged everyone in the company-wide group chat. 【In the face of intensifying external competition, we must adapt. Starting this year, bonuses will be allocated based on contribution. High contributors get more, low contributors get less, and those with no contribution get nothing!】 The moment the announcement dropped, cheers erupted from the departments around us. “The boss is a legend! I’ll work for this company for life!” “A fat bonus puts your mind at ease! I’m taking my wife to Hawaii for the New Year!” But in our tech department, there was only a dead, heavy silence. Mike, our most senior engineer, looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Boss… is there a mistake with the bonus payout?” “This amount… it’s eight dollars and eighty-eight cents… it’s nothing…” Sarah, one of the younger developers, had tears welling in her eyes. “Yeah, boss, my mom is waiting for this money for her surgery… Can you please go and check?” Jake, who had the shortest fuse among us, slammed his hand on his desk and shot to his feet. “What do you mean, a mistake?! Didn’t you see the boss’s announcement? He was talking directly to us!” “Eight dollars and eighty-eight cents! That won’t even buy a damn sandwich from the deli downstairs! Is he throwing scraps to beggars?” My phone buzzed. A private message from the boss. 【The tech department’s contribution this year was insufficient. However, out of humanitarian consideration, the company has issued each of you an $8.88 bonus. Your department needs to reflect on this and strive to contribute more next year.】 All fifteen of us in the tech department, from the seasoned veterans to the fresh-faced juniors, got the exact same insulting amount. Meanwhile, every other department was celebrating, their pockets bulging. As the technical backbone of the entire company, our department was always on call. We handled every request, pulled countless all-nighters, and worked ourselves to the bone. And in the end, we were deemed the department with the least contribution. The atmosphere was so thick with despair you could cut it with a knife. I could hear one of the younger engineers trying to stifle her sobs. I clenched my fists, my knuckles white, and took a deep, steadying breath. “I will get to the bottom of this. I will get us the justice we deserve.” I shot up from my chair and stormed towards the boss’s office. 2 The boss’s office was a party. People from Finance, Planning, and Marketing were all crowded inside, showering him with thanks and pledging their undying loyalty. Their beaming faces were a stark contrast to my own grim expression. The moment I walked in, the smile on the boss’s face evaporated. “Alright, everyone, back to work. Let’s finish the year strong before the holiday.” As the crowd dispersed, he gestured for me to sit. “What’s the problem? Not happy with your bonus?” I fought to keep the rage out of my voice. “That’s right. I don’t think it’s fair. If bonuses are based on contribution, then the tech department…” “Stop.” He cut me off, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his tea. “It seems the message I sent you was a complete waste.” “You’ve been in management for this long, Sam, and you still have no perspective. When your team’s bonus is small, instead of reflecting on your own shortcomings, you come storming into my office to complain about fairness?” A hot flare of anger shot through me. Perspective. Perspective. It was always about perspective! Earlier this year, during the company-wide salary review, everyone got a raise. Everyone except the tech department. We didn’t get a single cent. When I asked why, he had an answer ready. 【The average salary in your department is already higher than the others. If we raise it further, it will cause resentment and disrupt company harmony.】 【Sam, you’re a manager now. You need to see the big picture.】 【Just wait until the end of the year. I’ll allocate a larger bonus pool for your team. I won’t let you down.】 Our salaries might have been higher than some non-revenue departments, but they were miles below the industry average for our skills. 3 The promise of a raise was a carrot he dangled every single year. And this time, because he’d promised a massive year-end bonus, we all swallowed our pride and accepted it. I wrestled my anger back down. “Back then, we agreed to forgo the salary adjustment because you promised us a larger bonus at the end of the year. You said you’d make sure everyone was satisfied.” Clang! He slammed his teacup down on the desk, splashing hot tea everywhere. “Sam! Watch your tone!” “The company has its own evaluation methods. The market is tough right now, circumstances have changed, so of course the bonus structure has to be adjusted!” The market was tough, but our company’s performance wasn’t. And every other department had been handsomely rewarded. That was no excuse for giving us a bonus that was a literal joke. He didn’t give me a chance to speak, just sighed dramatically. “Do you have any idea what a bad impression you’re making, barging in here like this?” “Everyone from Finance and Planning just saw you. If you set this precedent, does it mean anyone who’s unhappy about anything can just come and yell at me?” “If everyone acted like you, how could this company possibly function?” I gritted my teeth, staring him down. “I’m willing to self-reflect. But first, you will pay our department the annual bonus we have earned.” He slammed his hand on the table. “Everyone says you’re an honest, straightforward guy. I guess it was all an act!” “Does being a good person mean I deserve to get screwed over?” 4 When I was hired, they promised an annual raise of at least 5%. In all my years here, that has never happened. The biggest raise we ever got was 3%. Every time, the excuse was the same: “We’ll make it up to you when the company’s performance improves.” Year after year, the company rode the AI wave to new heights, with profits soaring. But for us in the tech department, our salaries remained stagnant, like a dead pool of water. “Screwed over? I think I’ve been more than fair with you!” “Let’s get something straight, Sam. What does ‘based on contribution’ mean? All your department does is write a few lines of code and fix a few bugs. What real contribution is that? The fact that I gave you eight dollars each is a sign of my generosity!” Write a few lines of code? Fix a few bugs? All those sleepless nights, all that brain-racking effort poured into elegant solutions—in his mouth, it was all worthless, meaningless fluff. My face flushed a deep, furious red. I ripped the ID badge from around my neck and threw it onto his desk. “That’s not what you said when the company’s expansion depended on us working through the night!” “You called us your strongest technical support! You said without us, none of the new business deals could ever get off the ground!” “So how is it that when it’s time to reward people, we suddenly become the most useless department in the company?” “You think you can just use us and toss us aside? We won’t stand for it!” I kicked over his trash can, the contents spilling across the floor, and stormed out, slamming the door behind me. 5 As I left, I saw heads ducking back into their cubicles. They’d all been watching the show. I didn’t care that I was the office joke. All I could think about was how I was going to face my team. They were my people. They followed me, worked overtime without complaint, fueled by passion and trust in me. And I couldn’t even get them the basic bonus they were owed… My eyes burned. “Sam. A word.” Mr. Davies, the VP, stood in my path. He had started at the company the same time I did, a veteran from the early days. He was in charge of HR and was usually a calm, reasonable man. He closed his office door behind us, sighing as he shook his head. “Was that really necessary?” I snapped my head up, my eyes wide with disbelief. “Necessary? Mr. Davies, my team is depending on that money to get through the holidays!” “Mike’s mother is eighty years old! He promised he’d take her to Washington D.C. after he got his bonus.” “Sarah’s mother is waiting for that money for her surgery, and Jake…” “The company is not a charity, Sam. We have to follow procedures. We can’t just hand out more bonus money because an employee has personal difficulties.” He said it so casually, so dismissively. “Fine. Let’s not talk about personal difficulties.” I pulled out a chair and sat down, my face set like stone. “Let’s talk about contribution.” “You said the bonus was based on contribution. The results imply that our department contributed nothing to the company this year.” I opened my laptop and pulled up the work orders from the business development team. “This year, the sales team brought in twenty new enterprise clients. That corresponds to twenty new, custom software suites to support their operations.” 6 “If you had outsourced the development of these systems, each one would have cost a minimum of $250,000 to build. That’s a total of five million dollars, not including ongoing maintenance fees.” “Our tech department has 15 people, with an average annual salary of about $72,000. Our total payroll is just over one million dollars.” “On development alone, we saved the company at least four million dollars this year! And that doesn’t even account for the ongoing value these systems generate! You call that ‘no contribution’?” Mr. Davies was speechless. After a long pause, he fumbled for an excuse. “Well, no one said you made no contribution. But your department’s salaries are, on average, higher than others.” I laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “AI is the hottest field in the world right now. Other companies are offering new graduates with no experience starting salaries of $200,000 a year!” “My team is experienced, and every single one of them has a top-tier degree. Yet their annual salary is less than half of what a rookie makes elsewhere! And you call that a high salary?” I pulled up the attendance records. “Fine. You’re worried about internal harmony. Let’s talk about our hourly wage.” “There were 249 working days in 2025. Our team’s average attendance was 350 days. We even worked through Thanksgiving, sleeping in the office, to launch a new system for a client.” “And on those 350 days, the earliest anyone clocked out was 8 PM. And the latest… well, there was no latest. For a hundred of those days, we worked straight through the night. Our total work time comes to over 5,900 hours per person!” 7 “Based on a $72,000 salary, our effective hourly wage is twelve dollars.” I paused, letting the number hang in the air, then delivered the final blow. “Twelve dollars an hour. In this city, the barista at Starbucks makes twenty-two dollars an hour.” “When you work overtime, the company provides dinner and late-night snacks. We don’t neglect you…” “Dinner and snacks that have a budget of less than ten dollars per person! We have to pay out of our own pockets every single time just to get a decent meal!” My voice was shaking with rage, my control slipping. Mr. Davies’s face hardened. “Sam, you can’t just focus on your own contributions. You have to compare horizontally. Compared to you, the Finance and Planning departments contributed far more.” I stood up, practically rolling my eyes. “What contribution? Denying expense reports?” “Oh, right. Our department submitted fifty thousand dollars in legitimate expenses this year that were never reimbursed. The boss’s niece, the head of Finance, just refused to approve them without giving a reason! I guess that did save the company money!” “And the Planning department? Run by the boss’s other relative, who couldn’t get into a local college, bought a degree from some diploma mill overseas, and came back as a director.” “They spent the last year making vlogs and forced us to build a useless app for them. Last month, they used the wrong photos in a presentation and lost us a major client!” “That’s what you call contribution?” The more I spoke, the deeper the injustice burned. “And your department, HR! All you do is make PowerPoint presentations and fine employees! Forget to clock in? That’s a $200 fine. Desk isn’t perfectly tidy? $200. Didn’t say hello to the boss in the hallway? $300!” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Truly incredible. All of you, what great contributors!” “Since this company refuses to pay us what we’ve earned, don’t ever expect us to work for free again!” “We may be honest, but we’re not stupid! And even a fool knows an empty promise is a lie when you’ve heard it enough times!” 8 Ignoring the ugly look on Mr. Davies’s face, I turned and walked out. I heard the sound of a chair crashing to the floor behind me. So much for his calm, reasonable demeanor. It only lasted as long as his own interests weren’t threatened. Ultimately, I knew he had to have a hand in this year’s bonus distribution. I’d bet my life on it. When I returned to my department, fourteen pairs of hopeful eyes turned to me. A lump formed in my throat. I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. Mike forced a smile, but it couldn’t hide the bitterness in his eyes. “My mom’s not getting any younger. Her legs aren’t what they used to be. We’ll skip the trip to the capital this year. The bonus… forget it.” Sarah wiped her eyes. “Everyone just pitched in and gave me some money. It’s enough for my mom’s first round of surgery.” They swallowed their disappointment, their tears, their sense of betrayal. My fists clenched tighter. The conversation I’d had with the boss and Mr. Davies echoed in my mind. And then, another conversation surfaced. One I wasn’t supposed to have heard. “My cousin’s son just got his master’s and is back from overseas. He’s bringing a whole team with him. You need to clear out the tech department and make room for them!” “It’s happening. They won’t take this bonus nonsense. They’ll quit on their own, and we won’t have to pay them any severance.” “Besides, I have one more trick up my sleeve. They’ll be begging to leave…” They thought I had already left the executive suite. But I’d dropped my glasses and had gone back for them. And I heard their entire, despicable plan. “This time,” I said, my voice raw, “we can’t just let this go.” My eyes held the fierce determination of an honest man pushed to the edge. Why should good people always get screwed over?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390419”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’ve had a total of three boyfriends. Every single one of them dropped dead right after eating my mom’s homemade lasagna. The situation was so bizarre that a special task force was formed just to investigate their deaths. They spent six months on it, tearing our house apart, and still found nothing. The whole ordeal scared me so much that I didn’t dare date anyone for two years. In the third year, I finally started to move on from the shadow of the past and fell in love again. But with three dead boyfriends behind me, I was terrified. I refused to bring my new boyfriend, Mark, home to meet my mom. He, however, was eager to talk marriage and persistently begged me to take him home. This time, my mom, following our family tradition, made her special lasagna. Not long after we finished dinner, I went to the bathroom. A moment later, I heard my mother scream. “Oh God! Not again! He’s dead!” I ran out, and the blood drained from my face. Mark, who had been perfectly fine just minutes before, was slumped on the couch, his body stiff and cold. He looked like he’d been dead for a while. 1 I was frozen solid, staring at Mark’s lifeless body on the sofa. My face was ashen, my eyes burning with tears. “H-how did this happen?” “Mark, wake up! Don’t do this to me!” My hand trembled as I reached out to check for his breath, but my mother grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “Lucy, what are we going to do? Your boyfriend… he’s dead too!” “We have to call the police! We have to call them now!” My mom is the most timid, law-abiding person I know. Her first instinct is always to call the authorities. Her face pale, she fumbled with her phone to dial 911. “They said they’re on their way!” “Lucy, honey, don’t look.” I collapsed onto the couch, my entire world spiraling into darkness. “How could he be dead too?” “Mom, this is the fourth one…” My mom looked at me with pity, sighing heavily. She seemed to have aged a decade in a single night. Before long, the task force, along with a team of medical examiners, had swarmed our house. Detective Reed, the lead investigator, saw us and couldn’t help but sigh. “How is it that it’s your house again?” “What happened this time?” My mom shook her head like a rattle. “We don’t know, Detective. We just don’t know.” They immediately secured the scene and began a full autopsy on-site. My mom and I sat by the door, waiting in silence. This was the fourth time. Even the detectives and coroners felt like old acquaintances. During a break, one of the junior medical examiners leaned in and whispered to us. “Mrs. Mills, no offense, but have you ever thought maybe this house has bad luck?” “Every time your daughter brings a boyfriend home, something terrible happens. It’s like a curse. It’s just… morbid.” “Maybe you should think about selling the place, moving somewhere else.” My mother’s lips tightened, her face white as she shook her head. “It’s just the two of us. Lucy’s father died a long time ago. This house is all we have, our roots are here. Where else would we go?” As she spoke, tears began to fall. “I just feel so terrible for my Lucy. She was finally in a stable, happy relationship, and now this… God!” With a boyfriend dead in our home, my mother and I were the primary suspects. The neighbors peeked through their blinds, their faces a mixture of fear and judgment. “Another one? There’s something wrong with that family. It’s just not natural.” “I bet the two of them are behind it.” “Don’t say that. The best detectives in the city are on this. If it were them, they would’ve been arrested after the first one!” “There has to be something else going on!” Hearing their whispers, the vile accusations being thrown at us, my mom grew frantic. “We will cooperate fully, Detective! My daughter, Lucy, she wants a government job someday. You have to clear our names, please don’t let an innocent person be framed for this!” Detective Reed tried to console her. “Mrs. Mills, don’t you worry. We will do everything in our power to solve this case.” “If we can confirm you had nothing to do with it, you and your daughter will be cleared.” But we waited until our stomachs were growling, and still, they found nothing. Not a single clue. Even the most experienced medical examiners were shaking their heads in frustration. “This is unbelievable. We can’t determine the cause of death.” “It’s the same as the other three bodies. Appears to be a sudden cardiac arrest, but with no underlying cause.” The city’s top forensic team was called in, but even they couldn’t crack the puzzle. Once again, I had a boyfriend die in my home. My mother and I clung to each other, pale and trembling. Tears streamed down her face as her composure finally shattered. She let out a desperate, wailing cry. “Oh, God, what have we done to deserve this?” “Is my daughter cursed?” “Why does every man she loves end up dead in our house?” Soon, a detective from the task force approached me, his eyes studying me intently. “You’re Lucy Mills? The deceased, Mark, died in a manner identical to the previous three victims. I need you to think very carefully. Did they have anything in common?” I fought back my grief and thought hard. “Well, the most obvious thing is…” “They were all my boyfriends. Other than that, they didn’t know each other, so I don’t think…” I shook my head, but then something clicked. A sudden, chilling realization. “Wait! I remember now!” “They all ate my mom’s homemade lasagna!” 2 The moment the words left my mouth, every detective in the room turned to stare at me. “Lasagna?” Just like the first three times, their investigation circled back to my mom’s cooking. But every single time, they came up empty. The lasagna never provided any clues. “They die after eating lasagna? Are you suggesting someone poisoned it?” a detective asked, his eyes cold as he sized up my mother and me. “Never! I would never!” my mom cried out. “Besides, we’re not stupid! If we were going to murder someone, why would we do it with food I made myself, in our own home? Do we look like we have a death wish?” “And for God’s sake, he was my daughter’s boyfriend! He could have been my son-in-law one day! What possible motive could we have?” Detective Reed calmly cut my mother off. “Were there any leftovers from dinner tonight?” “Yes!” my mom said quickly. “I made way too much sauce, so I made a whole other tray and put it in the freezer.” “And with everything that happened so suddenly, the leftovers from dinner are still on the counter. We didn’t have a chance to clean up.” So, they immediately collected everything. The leftover lasagna, the frozen tray, and even the raw ingredients. From the flour used for the fresh pasta to the meat and spices in my mom’s sauce. Everything was tested. “Well? Anything?” Reed asked the forensics tech. The tech shook his head. “No toxins, no poisons, nothing. It’s just a normal pan of lasagna.” A younger, intense-looking detective named Nathan suddenly looked up at me, his gaze sharp. “Lucy, you might as well tell us the truth.” “Why is your mother so insistent on making lasagna for them?” I’d always wondered that myself. I pulled my mom over to explain. She slapped her thigh in frustration, her face a mask of sorrow. “Detectives, you don’t understand. It’s a tradition in our family.” “Especially when a daughter brings a boy home for the first time. The mother is supposed to make her special family-recipe meal.” “And besides, with the holidays coming up, everyone is making big, hearty meals.” “We’ve been doing this for generations. How could it be that only… only my daughter’s boyfriends are the ones who have something happen to them? It’s a damn tragedy.” But Nathan didn’t let up, his eyes still fixed on me. “Maybe there’s a more sophisticated poisoning method we’re not seeing.” My face went pale. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but before I could speak, Detective Reed stepped in. “Nathan, the chances of that are practically zero.” “You heard the M.E. The victim shows no signs of poisoning. That’s not what killed him.” The task force looked defeated. “So we can rule it out. It has nothing to do with your mother’s lasagna.” I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath. “Besides, I ate it too, didn’t I?” My mom makes lasagna all the time, and before all this happened, it was my favorite food. This time, I had been so worried about Mark that I barely had an appetite and only ate a few bites. But my mom had two huge helpings. If there was poison in the lasagna, how were we still standing here? With every theory hitting a dead end, the task force moved on to another possibility. A crime of passion. Someone who was obsessed with me. Detective Reed turned to me. “Lucy, think hard. Is there anyone like that?” “Someone who pursued you, couldn’t have you, and is now taking out his anger on your boyfriends from the shadows? It’s a possibility.” I wracked my brain, and then my eyes shot up. “Actually… there might be someone.” 3 As all eyes in the room turned to me, I had no choice but to tell them everything. “There was a guy I met through work, Trevor. He pursued me for a while, but he was a heavy smoker and just… not my type, so I turned him down.” “After that, he threatened me a few times, both directly and indirectly.” “He said that when he wants a woman, he gets her, no matter the cost.” “I told him I had a boyfriend, and he just smirked and said we wouldn’t last long.” The more I said, the more the goosebumps crawled up my arms. I was on the verge of tears, looking pleadingly at Detective Reed. “Detective, do you think it could be him?” “But how would he know every time I got a new boyfriend? And how could he kill them so flawlessly, without a trace?” Detective Reed looked thoughtful. “We can’t be sure he’s the killer, but he’s certainly a person of interest.” “To test this theory, we’ll need to investigate further.” The task force proposed a plan: Nathan would pose as my new boyfriend and come to my house for dinner. “Me?” “Him?” Nathan and I spoke at the same time. Seeing the utter reluctance on his handsome face, I frowned. “Can’t you pick someone else?” Detective Reed just smiled. “He’s the only one in the unit who is close to your age. It’s more believable this way.” Fine. So, Nathan, as instructed, came over to my house, pretending to be my boyfriend. We replicated the entire scenario from when Mark came over. My mom wiped her tears and forced a smile, chopping vegetables and preparing the lasagna just as she had before. While we waited for it to bake, I poured a glass of juice from the fridge and handed it to Nathan. “This is my favorite. You should try it.” Nathan shot me an annoyed look. I rolled my eyes, slammed the glass down on the table, and muttered, “Drink it or don’t. I don’t care.” For some reason, this guy acted like he had a personal vendetta against me, glaring at me every chance he got. I couldn’t figure it out. Finally, I asked him. “Nathan, what is your problem with me?” He just snorted and turned away, his gaze falling on a childhood photo of me on the wall. “Looks like you were trouble even back then.” That was it. I shot to my feet, my eyes welling up. “Nathan, what is that supposed to mean?” “Why are you so prejudiced against me? Deep down, you think I’m the one who killed them, don’t you?” Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. Nathan froze, suddenly looking flustered. He quickly handed me a tissue. “Hey, don’t cry.” His voice was awkward. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t overthink it.” But this time, I wouldn’t back down. “Then what did you mean?” “You’ve been on this case since the beginning, and every time you see me, you look like you want to punch a wall.” “This time, it was my boyfriend, Mark, who died.” “He’s gone, and I’m the one who’s heartbroken, but you’re still blaming me.” Nathan was silent for a long time, just looking at me. Finally, he sighed. “I just think you’re… a bit of a black widow.” “And it’s a damn shame about those lives.” “But no matter how much effort it takes, we are going to get to the bottom of this.” A small laugh escaped my lips, and then Nathan smiled too. He picked up the glass of juice and took a few sips. After that, the hostility in his eyes seemed to fade a little. We followed the plan, ate the lasagna, and waited nervously for the killer to make a move. But the meal ended. And Nathan was perfectly fine. “I’m not dead?” The task force had already tested this batch of lasagna, so there were no surprises there. But from start to finish, nothing unusual happened. Everyone was more confused than ever. “Could we be looking at this all wrong?” “Maybe it’s not the lasagna at all. Maybe the problem is somewhere else!” Only I had a different idea. “What if the killer knew? What if he knew Nathan was just pretending to be my boyfriend?” Just then, Detective Reed’s phone rang. It was the task force headquarters. They had just received an anonymous letter. “Detective, we think it’s from the killer!” “He’s hiding in the shadows, watching us run in circles. He’s taunting us!” 4 Detective Reed’s expression darkened as he snatched the letter. He only needed one glance. His face turned grim. Curious, I leaned over to look. There were only a few words written in stark, bold letters: “The fifth life is mine.” The atmosphere in the room turned to ice. A collective gasp went through the task force. “This is insane!” “It’s a direct challenge!” “I don’t believe it! We have the whole place locked down. How is he going to take a fifth life right under our noses?” Detective Reed remained calm, raising a hand to silence the chatter. He handed the letter to a forensics officer. “Check this for prints.” But the results came back quickly. “No prints, Detective.” “The killer has counter-surveillance skills. He likely wore gloves. Didn’t leave a single mark.” At that exact moment, as everyone was scrambling for a lead, one of the female officers in the room looked around and cried out. “Where’s Nathan?!” My heart leaped into my throat. I looked around wildly. “He was just here a second ago.” A terrible realization dawned on Detective Reed’s face. “Now!” he yelled. “Find Nathan!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390435”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The college student next door hit my car with his bike for the thirteenth time. He was flushed, his worn-out sweatshirt emphasizing his status, his hands rubbing together nervously. In the past, I’d always been lenient. I’d waved it off. But this time, he barely glanced at me. “Guys should be cool about stuff like this, right? It’s just a scratch. You’re rich, you wouldn’t seriously stick it to a poor student like me, would you?” Suddenly, I felt a deep, profound sense of exhaustion. “Let’s go through the legal channels,” I said, my voice flat. “Full compensation, including the previous nine incidents. Total: three million dollars.” He froze, then his face contorted. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “Three million? You’re just trying to take advantage of me because I’m poor!” “My girlfriend’s a lawyer. I’m not scared of you.” I didn’t think much of it until the day of the preliminary hearing. A perfectly manicured woman was cooing, stroking his arm. “My baby finally decided to announce my official status as his girlfriend, did he?” “As a reward, how about I send him and his corporate stooge of a lawyer straight to the cleaners? Sound good?” The woman speaking was my wife—Veronica Stone—the undefeated litigator, who was supposed to be in Zurich on a high-stakes case. … 1. “Seriously? But he’s so loaded, and he acts like such an arrogant prick.” Cody spoke with a heavy, performative self-pity. “I’m just a student. How could I ever win against him?” Veronica leaned in and pressed a loud kiss to his cheek. “You don’t trust anyone else, but you trust your girlfriend, right, hmm?” “Who is your girlfriend? I’m the Veronica Stone. The most feared litigator in the city. I’ll make him grovel, baby. How about that?” Cody finally cracked a smile. “Deal.” “Take down that pretentious old guy!” “Anything for my man. I’m utterly obsessed with you, my love.” I watched the two of them for a long moment, then slowly reached for my phone. Veronica saw my name flash on her screen and instinctively frowned. She waited a beat, then moved slightly away from Cody and answered. “What is it, Grant? Did you miss me already? I just left.” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “Where are you?” I cut straight to the chase. She paused for a fraction of a second. “In Zurich, of course. I text you every day, don’t I?” she said, her tone suddenly clipped. “I have to go. My client will throw a fit if I keep him waiting.” I watched her smile vanish, her expression snapping back to stone-cold professionalism as she hung up. Cody immediately leaned in. “Who was that?” Veronica gave him a quick peck. “No one important. What, are you jealous?” I stood there, just out of their line of sight, watching them play the part of two smitten young lovers. My heart seized up, a cold, heavy ache settling in my chest. I didn’t show up in court that day. I sent my assistant instead. That evening, I went home. I sat on the sofa, scrolling through old photos of Veronica and me, every memory of our life together turning to ash in my mind. Veronica graduated top of her class and rocketed to the top of her field. Everyone called us a power couple—the golden boy and the brilliant barrister. Until that day, I had believed them. I gave a short, self-mocking laugh. Then, a text notification flashed on my phone. Cody. He was gloating. “What’s the point of having so much money, you ugly bastard? No one even loves you.” “My girlfriend is beautiful and she adores me.” Following the text were a dozen intimate photos: hands intertwined, faces pressed together, the easy, comfortable familiarity of a true couple. The final image was the official verdict. He’d won. I stared at the judgment slip. Every word on it felt like a direct, personal sneer. Before I could process it, Veronica called. “Grant Harrington, what is wrong with you? A man almost thirty trying to ruin a nineteen-year-old kid?” Her voice was laced with moral outrage. “How could you be so vicious as to demand three million dollars?” I smiled then. So, she knew the opposing party was me. She knew the entire story, yet she still chose to use her formidable skill to secure his victory. A true tier-one lawyer. I hung up without a word and called my company attorney. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington, but we simply couldn’t beat your wife.” “That’s fine,” I said. “I have another case. I might need your help again.” My attorney paused. “What case? Why not go through Veronica?” I spoke slowly, deliberately. “A divorce case.” “She is the opposing party.” 2. Veronica finally came home three days later. I gave her a cold look, then turned to walk away. “Oh, come on, honey. Are you still mad?” “I know my temper was bad the other day, and I apologize. It was just an impulse. Seeing Cody reminded me of when I was in college, struggling just to afford food. I felt sorry for him.” She carefully avoided any mention of her relationship with Cody. “We don’t need that money, Grant. Think of it as charity. We helped a poor kid.” I simply stood there, watching her. She tugged my hand and insisted we go out. As a peace offering, she wanted to buy me the expensive watch I’d been considering. I didn’t want to go, but I had been cooped up in the house too long. We walked into The Chronos Gallery. The sales associate rushed over. “Mr. Harrington, great to see you! And Mrs. Harrington, welcome back!” She enthusiastically showed me the new limited-edition timepieces. Veronica hooked her arm through mine. “Honey, I know this is your favorite brand. Pick anything you want. It’s on me. My way of saying sorry for being such a pain.” The associates were whispering nearby. “Veronica is so good to you, Mr. Harrington.” “You two are always featured in Town & Country as the city’s ultimate power couple.” A power couple? I let out a short, cynical laugh. My desire to shop had vanished. I just grabbed the closest watch I saw. Just then, Cody appeared, rushing over with an expression of manufactured delight. He threw his arms around Veronica. “Winnie, what are you doing here?” “Wow, that watch is gorgeous!” He reached out and immediately grabbed the one in my hand. The sales associates froze, exchanging uneasy glances. I looked at Cody’s face. He clearly knew who I was now—Veronica’s husband—yet he showed zero inhibition. No. He probably knew from the start. I chuckled, then pulled the watch from his grasp and held it out to him. “Nice, right? Half a million dollars. You couldn’t earn this if you worked yourself to death for ten years.” Cody’s smile faltered, and his eyes dropped. He didn’t say anything, just stared at Veronica with a look of wounded, self-pitying vulnerability. After a moment, he spoke. “I can’t afford it. I know that.” “But you don’t have to look down on me, Mr. Harrington. So what if I’m poor? Do the poor not deserve to live?” “I’ll go. I won’t bother you rich, high-and-mighty people anymore.” Veronica’s brows furrowed. The patience she’d used to placate me was gone. “Who says he can’t afford it? I’ll buy this watch for him.” She reached into her purse and threw a cheap plastic novelty watch—the kind you’d find in a vending machine—into my lap. “You wear this instead.” “Go home and think about yourself. When did you become such a snob, looking down on people just because they’re struggling?” “You’re just a parasite, Grant, riding on the back of your family’s money. Ten years from now, Cody will be twice the man you are.” She turned and chased after Cody, leaving me alone in the gallery. The sales associates looked at me with a mixture of pity and awkwardness. I watched her back, and my heart gave a strange, small contraction. It was a dull, persistent ache, like being pricked with thousands of tiny needles. I lowered my eyes, masking my expression, then pulled out my phone. I took photos of the watch’s purchase record and a picture of Veronica and Cody hugging in the street below. “Attorney Palmer,” I texted. “Adultery evidence.” 3. “Received.” I saw the confirmation from Attorney Palmer, then dropped my gaze and put the phone away. The store associate timidly approached me. “Mr. Harrington, that watch is a global limited edition. It’s gone now. Do you… do you still want to keep your photo up?” My eyes drifted to the photo displayed on the shelf near the register. It was a picture of Veronica and me, taken right after college graduation. I had spent my first three months’ salary, saved from eating instant noodles, to buy her the cheapest watch in that store. When I gave it to her, she had cried and hugged me, saying: “Grant, I swear I will love you forever. We are going to have the most successful, most beautiful future together, I promise.” Years later, Veronica no longer wore that watch, but it remained in my closet. Every time I saw it, I was transported back to that moment, utterly immersed in the future she had promised. Now, we were both successful and wealthy. That photo felt like a physical slap across my face. “Mr. Harrington?” the assistant prompted. Her voice yanked me back from the memory. My gaze fell on the smiling, clueless man in the photo—the man who never imagined a day like this. “Tear it down,” I said. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” A useless photo. Just like a useless relationship. I turned away, twirling my phone in my hand, and walked out of the store without looking back. I spent three hours by the ocean, watching the tide roll in and out. Seven years—from our first date in college to our wedding—played out in slow motion in my mind. The dull ache in my heart, which had been churning like the water, finally subsided into a cold, complete stillness. I sent her a text. “Tomorrow is our seventh anniversary. I think we need to talk.” Veronica didn’t reply. Cody, however, posted a story. He showed off the limited-edition watch Veronica had just given him, with the caption: “The one who truly loves you will cross any obstacle to bring you joy.” “In love, only the unloved one is the side piece.” A moment later, I saw Veronica’s ‘like’ underneath the post. I gave a bitter laugh. She had time for social media but no time to answer my text. It didn’t matter. I no longer cared. Just then, my phone rang with a video call request. It was Cody. “Guess where I am, Grant?” “You rich people are something else. Your dog eats better than I do. Why should an animal live better than me?” In the video, Cody was standing inside my villa. My Siberian Husky, Snowball, whom I had raised since he was a puppy, was being held tight in his arms. “What are you doing? Let him go.” Snowball was aggressive with strangers. He struggled violently in Cody’s arms, perhaps recognizing my voice. He thrashed harder. Cody clamped down on his neck. Snowball twisted his head and bit Cody’s hand hard. I watched Cody’s triumphant expression warp into a sneer of rage. “Stupid mutt.” “Humans look down on me, and now you look down on me too.” Cody violently slammed Snowball down, then kicked the dog hard in the ribs. I grabbed my keys and ran like a madman. “Don’t you touch him!” The ten-minute drive from the ocean to my house took me five. But I was still too late. I burst through the front door and saw Snowball lying on the marble floor, his eyes wide with tears, whimpering softly. It was the sound he made only when he was in excruciating pain. My heart was instantly pierced. “Cody! Let him go! Get away from him!” Cody turned and grinned at me. “Mr. Harrington is home. Your place is huge, man. But your dog is a little naughty.” “Oh, right. You came rushing back like that just for this dog, didn’t you?” He looked down at Snowball, his eyes turning cold and vicious. He laughed at me. “Hold on. I’ll send him down to you right now.” The look on his face filled me with a sudden, suffocating sense of dread. “No—” 4. But it was too late. Cody stood on the second-floor balcony and, right in front of me, tossed Snowball over the railing. Thump. I watched, helpless, as the dog I had raised and loved like family hit the ground and lay there, lifeless. “Snowball!” I screamed, a raw sound of sheer despair. I saw his eyes. They were slowly closing. His paw was stretched toward me, as if he wanted one last hug. But he was too far. The place he fell was too far away for me to reach him. Then, his eyes finally closed. The immense pain blanked my mind for a few seconds. Hatred and sorrow twisted into a single, overwhelming knot. Cody looked from the corpse of Snowball to me, and he began to laugh maniacally. “He’s dead? Good, the bastard deserved it.” “Why should an animal live better than me? I didn’t mean to kill him at first, but—” I sprinted up the stairs, pure animalistic rage driving me. I lunged at Cody, my hand raised high. “Who told you to touch him? Who gave you the right?” My fist never landed. A figure slammed between us. Veronica glared at me, her face a mask of cold fury. In all our years together, I had never seen her look at me that way—for another man. “What are you doing, Grant!” I was shaking, barely able to speak. I pointed a trembling finger at Snowball’s corpse below. “Who let this man in my house? He just threw my dog to his death!” Cody shook his head at Veronica. “I’m sorry, Winnie. The dog suddenly went crazy and bit me, then it jumped over the railing on its own.” He held up his hand, exposing the puncture marks from Snowball’s teeth. Veronica’s eyes hardened. She shoved my shoulder hard, forcing me to stumble back. “Your dog! If Cody is seriously hurt, I swear I’ll make you pay.” The sharp corner of a decorative coat rack caught me in the gut. The pain doubled me over. Veronica didn’t even glance at me. She grabbed Cody’s hand. “Are you okay?” Cody shook his head, looking pitiful. “I didn’t mean it, Winnie. I’ve just never been in such a big house, and I was looking around.” “The dog just lunged at me. I—I—” He was cut off by Veronica, who called her driver to take him to the hospital immediately. I grabbed at her pants, trying to suppress the nausea and the searing pain in my stomach, clinging to one last, desperate hope. Maybe Snowball could still be saved. “Take Snowball to the vet. Emergency. Please.” She didn’t look at me. Her voice was flat, emotionless. “It’s just an animal. It’s dead. Good riddance.” Watching them leave, the tears finally fell. They were not for Veronica. They were for Snowball, and for the seven years of my life I had wasted on a lie. Before Cody turned the corner, he looked at me, a victorious sneer plastered on his face. He mouthed two words. I understood them perfectly. “Side piece.” The unloved one is the side piece. 5. I woke up in the hospital three days later. My assistant was sitting beside the bed. He looked like he wanted to say something but held back. “Boss—” Veronica hadn’t visited. Not once in two days. I closed my eyes and spoke, my voice raspy. “Call the police.” Assistant: “Yes, sir.” Veronica arrived soon after the police left. Her face was dark, her eyes burning with irritation. Her first words were a reprimand. “He’s a college student, Grant. He hasn’t even graduated. You called the police? What about his future?” I looked at her, my expression blank. “The moment he killed my dog, he chose his future.” “I want him to be held accountable for what he did.” Her voice was cold. “I never thought you’d become this kind of man. You rich people really have no souls.” “I’m here, Grant. You can’t touch him.” “You know what I’m capable of. I never lose a case. And I won’t let Cody lose this one.” She turned and left. A day later, I received a court summons. Veronica, acting on Cody’s behalf, was suing me for willfully allowing my pet dog to injure a person. For any other lawyer, this case would be impossible to win. But she was Veronica Stone. She had never lost a case. She was the standard-bearer for the entire legal profession. People used to envy me for having such a brilliant wife. I never imagined she would weaponize that brilliance against me. Sure enough, the verdict came down. I lost. Completely. The court ordered me to pay Cody $100,000 for mental distress, medical bills, and emotional trauma. Furthermore, I was found guilty of allowing a pet to intentionally injure a person, and if the plaintiff did not forgive me, I could face a fifteen-day detention. I stared at the judgment notice. Although I’d convinced myself I was over her, a faint, cold pain still registered in my chest. I hadn’t believed Veronica could be so utterly ruthless toward me. She was so concerned about protecting Cody’s reputation that she never considered the consequences for mine. If that’s how it is, then so be it. Veronica, I want absolutely nothing to do with you ever again. I called Attorney Palmer and sent over the final piece of evidence of Veronica’s infidelity. …….. Veronica smiled when Attorney Palmer came to see her. “Grant realized his mistake, didn’t he? I only did this to teach him a lesson. I wouldn’t actually let him get detained.” “Tell him I’ll be home tonight. As for what happened before—” Attorney Palmer interrupted her before she could finish. “Ms. Stone, this is from Mr. Harrington. Please take a look.” Veronica’s smile widened. “Is he trying to surprise me?” “Oh, Grant. He didn’t need to go through all this trouble. He just needed to—” Her voice stopped as the documents slipped out of the envelope and onto the floor. She stared at the papers, frozen.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390121”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel