Category: English

The seller missed shipping a $50 cashmere sweater, so I applied for a “Refund Only”. Unexpectedly, the seller insisted I was trying to scam $50: “I hate scammers like you the most! The warehouse never makes mistakes, not a penny will be refunded, if you dare to apply for refund again I’ll expose your whole family online!” I was stunned, does the seller plan to ship only one sweater but earn double the price? A “Receive Only, No Ship” extreme seller, actually met by me? I backhanded reported the seller for false shipping, mailed a Cease and Desist Letter. Half a month later, the shop was permanently banned by the platform. The seller cried again saying he would give me ten times compensation begging for my forgiveness. Chapter 1 I paid $100 for two cashmere sweaters. But the FedEx package I received only contained one. I thought I missed picking up a package. Looking closely, I found the seller filled the same tracking number on both order logistics pages. That means the seller merged shipping. Saved himself a shipping fee. But missed sending me one sweater! What a joke operation. I quickly contacted the seller to explain the situation, applied for “Refund Only”. Unexpectedly, the seller insisted I wanted to get their clothes for free: “I hate scammers like you the most! The warehouse never makes mistakes, not a penny will be refunded, dare to apply for refund again I’ll expose your whole family online!” I was instantly confused. My finger applying for refund shook violently. There are many “Refund Only No Return” extreme buyers circulating on the internet. But a “Receive Only No Ship” extreme seller. Actually met by me? Chapter 2 I patiently sent the photo of the received sweater to the seller. “Received the package at 5 PM today, only one sweater inside.” “Your shop merged shipping, filled the same tracking number in two separate orders, but didn’t put the two clothes from two orders together to send to me. I paid $100, only received one, request refund of $50.” I expressed clearly enough. The seller still instantly rejected my $50 refund application. Next second, customer service message popped up: “Our warehouse has outbound records, freeloader, don’t think about scamming! “For freeloaders like you, we sue one accurate one, don’t blame me for not reminding you when you go to jail! Online shopping fraud is illegal!” I almost laughed in anger. Seller missed shipping items, yet so righteous? I expressed reasonable demands. But was easily labeled as a “freeloader”? Anger rushed up along my hair strands. I am a valued customer. Won’t take this crap! I told customer service again, after I opened the courier bag. There was one and only one sweater inside. Customer service immediately sent me a middle finger emoji. “Are scammers so arrogant now? Coming to boost performance on the first day of New Year? Rather than freeloading $50 here, better go work in a factory!” Seeing the message, my hands unconsciously clenched into fists. Wished I could fly in front of the customer service. Throw the sweater on his face. When I was ready to reply, the system showed customer service changed. New customer service attitude was slightly better than the previous one. “Hello dear, we need to verify the situation with the warehouse, will tell you result before 10 PM tonight.” I patiently waited for the verification result. Two hours later, I thought I could finally get a refund. Unexpectedly the notification received was still: [Your refund application was rejected by the seller. Seller note: No missed shipment.] I couldn’t hold it anymore. Staring at the thin sweater in hand fell into thought. Is the seller planning to deny till death? What new type of scam is this? Chapter 3 I didn’t plan to continue chatting with the seller. I directly contacted platform customer service. Explained the seller’s missed shipment situation. “The seller filled the same tracking number on two independent order pages, causing both orders to show as delivered. Actually I only received one sweater, requesting refund of $50.” I sent the delivery photo and order screenshot in order. Thinking refund would definitely succeed. Unexpectedly customer service actually asked me to provide an unboxing video! “If can’t provide complete unboxing video, here also can’t determine if seller missed shipment~” I really laughed in anger. Buying expensive electronics definitely record unboxing video. Who records unboxing video for a $50 sweater? I truthfully told customer service I didn’t record unboxing video. Official customer service replied me: “Then here also can’t help verify if seller has missed shipment behavior, thank you for understanding.” I stared at customer service’s words falling into thought. Since customer service asked me for unboxing video. Then I ask seller for packing shipping video. I messaged seller: “Since your warehouse verified no missed shipment, please send me a copy of packing shipping video.” After a minute, shop customer service sent a “disdain” emoji. “Our shop’s packing shipping video belongs to our internal data, not transmitted externally.” At this moment, I was very sure the seller had no packing shipping video at all. Without evidence, based on what ascertain warehouse didn’t miss shipment? Isn’t this purely deceiving consumers? Their so-called verifying missed shipment situation was just an hour interval. Found my chat box again. Sent me a sentence “No missed shipment” again without basis. Shopping online for ten years, first time met seller who missed shipment and refused refund! Chapter 4 I checked shop profile. Profile showed this is a new shop established just three months ago. All items in shop are sweaters. Style single, colors rich. Price far lower than shops selling similar items. I thought I picked affordable sweater relying on years of online shopping experience. Even collected this treasure shop at first time. Didn’t expect actually stepped into a big pit. A while later, seller customer service sent new message: “Unboxing video must start from goods outer packaging intact, we don’t recognize video filmed after opening packaging bag. “Unless you can provide real unboxing video, otherwise we won’t agree to your refund application. Smile.jpg.” I suddenly sensed something wrong. Seller seemed to guess from beginning I wouldn’t record unboxing video. So this shop deliberately used one sweater, earning double price? I won’t agree! I prepared to apply for return and refund. Page suddenly popped a new message. “If you want return and refund, send back both sweaters oh, we have special person for inspection, refund as many as sent back. “You send back one, not affecting secondary sales, we will only refund price of one. Stained with lipstick, perfume smell, our warehouse will reject all.” My finger clicking return and refund hovered in air. Meaning I not only won’t receive replacement sweater… Even return and refund, can only refund half of payment. Simply robbing my $50! Chapter 5 Matter to this point, this is not about $50 anymore. I suddenly remembered, weight of one sweater and two sweaters is different. By same logic, actual weight of courier package is also different. I quickly contacted FedEx courier. Asked weight when package sent out. Courier told me: “Package weight less than one kg, charged as one kg.” So weight shown on waybill is one kg. I checked specific weight record during transportation again. Sure enough found real weight. At previous station. Courier package weighed 1.5 lbs (0.71 kg). Shop page marked one sweater weight as 0.8-0.9 lbs. Counting weight of packaging bag and box. Exactly around 1.5 lbs. This weight data enough to prove seller only sent one sweater. I impatiently told this news to seller. Conveniently sent courier weighing screenshot to seller. Thought this farce could finally end. Unexpectedly shop customer service still coldly replied: “We verified, warehouse no missed shipment.” Customer service sent another screenshot. Picture clearly showed recent news: [Shock! Woman refunded without return 305 times in a month, sellers jointly sued, court sentenced!] Customer service also sarcastically said: “You understand right?” I laughed in anger. At this moment, she hadn’t realized yet. How painful price she would pay for this sentence. Chapter 6 I weighed the received sweater together with packaging. LCD screen showed 1.5 lbs. Consistent with weight when courier transported to last station. I sent courier weight screenshot to seller. “Courier sent out weight 1.5 lbs, I received also 1.5 lbs. One sweater about 0.8 lbs, this proves package you sent originally only had one sweater.” I thought this time seller no matter what must refund me. Matter of few minutes refund. Dragged for whole day. Really made people mentally exhausted. I planned to solve this small problem ASAP. Unexpectedly I still underestimated seller’s determination of “Receive Only No Ship”. Seller who was extremely unwilling to send packing shipping video just now. Suddenly threw out a 10-second shipping video. “This is our shipping video, video shows sent two, weight of each sweater varies, not 100% same weight. We also marked sweater weight for reference only, error exists, we sent two sweaters.” Simply too ridiculous! What error can differ by nearly a pound? I skeptically clicked open video. Date on top left showed three days ago. A pair of big hands picked up two packs of sweaters, put into package. Sealed bag, pasted tracking number, operation smooth. I zoomed in item info pasted on package. Indeed tracking number I received. Since seller sent two, I actually received one. Where did the lost one go? After sending this video, seller became more righteous: “Did you see? Our warehouse just distributed you two, you know in heart how many you received. “We provided shipping video, where is your unboxing video? Have it?” Seeing I didn’t reply, seller even cursed: “Unexpected right? We saved shipping video, otherwise really let you succeed in refund.” I watched packing shipping video three times consecutively. From video start to end. Indeed no trace of editing at all. I scratched head. Couldn’t understand no matter how. Chapter 7 I contacted courier. Other side confirmed goods not lost or damaged. Which means situation of losing one sweater halfway doesn’t exist. Seller and courier, must be one person lied. Seller uploaded this packing shipping video. Platform even straightforwardly judged seller no missed shipment. System immediately cancelled my refund application. Seller thought occupied reason, still constantly mocking me: “Warehouse no missed shipment, dear you can carefully check if there is another sweater in your home.” I pinched the only sweater falling into thought. I can buy expensive ones. But absolutely can’t accept seller selling me a $50 sweater with double price! I reported to platform customer service that authenticity of shipping video needs verification. Platform customer service sent message: “Need you provide unboxing video, otherwise we also can’t verify.” Unboxing video again. As if without unboxing video, can only admit bad luck! Customer service solemnly told me: “Here see shipping video provided by seller indeed packed two for you. “Clothes weight error is within normal range.” Clearly weight doesn’t match, just rely on a video appeared from nowhere. Seller can just not refund? I anxiously observed shipping video repeatedly. Video clear, watermark normal. Indeed can’t see a bit problem. Really want admit bad luck? After platform judged no responsibility, seller tone became more arrogant: “You not receiving is your own business, you not receiving doesn’t represent we didn’t send! “Now platform all gave result, what else you want quibble? You still want scam?” Seller sent three “rolling eyes” emojis in a row. I almost exploded in anger. I even found evidence of insufficient courier weight. In front of seller’s “packing video”, actually useless! After closing refund application page. Seller still perseveringly mocking me: “Don’t you know in heart how many received? “I tell you, I seen many like you!” Unbearable, I backhanded sent seller into blacklist. Chapter 8 I am Platinum Member of shopping platform. Recharged membership for five consecutive years. Credit score even full. This dispute judged seller no need refund. Not only lost $50. More means later I use this account again. Will be marked as “risk” user. Thinking here, my head hurt like cracking. I accessed VIP customer service line. Anxiously told other side: “I am dissatisfied with handling result of previous order dispute. Online shopping ten years, no need scam a sweater.” Platform customer service asked me again: “Was courier damaged or abnormal when received? Here can ask courier if missed.” I replied: “Package no damage trace, inside only one.” Platform customer service comforted me cool down. “Dear, here see you are our platform high quality customer, to guarantee your shopping experience, here can apply $10 no-threshold coupon for you, do you agree this handling plan?” Moment seeing message, I laughed in anger. Want use $10 coupon send me away? Don’t even think about it!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390115”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wife, the wealthiest woman in the city, demanded my kidney— for the son she had with her one true love. When I refused, she had our young son beaten until his skin split, then dangled him over the churning sea. “If you don’t donate,” she snarled, “I’ll drop this little bastard to the sharks!” Waves crashed below. Orion trembled, choking out, “Daddy, save me…” Seeing his small body bloodied and torn, I agreed. They strapped me to the operating table— without even anesthesia. The cold scalpel carved into me. But when I finally dragged myself from that hospital, I learned the truth: my son was already gone, devoured by sharks, not a bone left. Three years later, the other boy’s new kidney began to fail. His father—my wife’s lover—was grief-stricken. Isabelle flew into a rage. “That bastard’s filthy kidney did this! It’s his fault Noah suffers!” “Bring them back,” she ordered. “It’s time they were taught a lesson.” For the man she adored, she unleashed all her power to hunt us down for another kidney. But this time, she was destined for disappointment. Because my son and I have been dead for five years. [1] In the private hospital suite, Isabelle MacLaren’s assistant bowed his head, his voice tight. “Ms. MacLaren, we’ve checked every possible channel. There is absolutely no trace of Mr. Hébert or your son.” “The last time anyone saw them was five years ago…” Isabelle’s face hardened, and she slammed her palm on the table. “A bunch of useless fools! How can two living people just vanish into thin air?” The shout startled the little boy in the hospital bed, and he burst into tears. Leo immediately scooped the child into his arms, his own voice choked with sobs. “Does… does he hate me that much? He’d rather watch Noah die than help me with this one small thing?” He looked up at Isabelle, his eyes red-rimmed and tragic. “Is my death the only thing that will make him forgive me? Is that what it will take for him to save my baby?” Isabelle’s brow furrowed. She patted his back comfortingly. “Don’t say such foolish things. I’ll find them if I have to tear this city apart, brick by brick.” She snatched her coat from the chair and stormed out of the room. As her sports car tore through the streets, she opened her messaging app and fired off a series of furious texts to my old number. [Elias Hébert, you’ve grown bold in five years, haven’t you? Now you’re ignoring my messages?] [If your kidney isn’t good enough, we’ll use Orion’s!] [Bring him back to me now. Don’t make me come for him myself.] The messages remained unanswered, unread. Isabelle’s fury mounted, and she typed out a final, venomous threat. [You ungrateful piece of trash! It seems you’ve forgotten what I’m capable of.] Leo’s hand covered hers, stopping her from sending it. He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t, Isabelle. I just want him to save Noah. I never wanted to hurt him.” “Please, just tell him… I’ll do anything he asks. He can have anything he wants. My life, even…” Isabelle pulled him into an embrace, her expression grim. The car screeched to a halt in front of a derelict mansion. The overgrown, weed-choked courtyard pulled Isabelle’s mind back five years. Leo’s son, Noah, was in renal failure and needed an urgent transplant. Before the compatibility tests were even back, she had me dragged to an operating table. I fought back with everything I had, but Isabelle was immovable. “Leo has always been fragile,” she had said, her voice like ice. “I will not allow him or his son to suffer any harm!” “If you won’t donate, your son will pay the price for you.” Leo had knelt before me, his face a mask of tearful desperation. “Elias, you’ll only lose one kidney, but Noah will lose his life!” “I know you hate me. You can hit me, you can curse me, I’ll take it all. But my son is innocent. How can you be so cruel as to let him die?” To force my hand, she had her men drag my son, my little Orion, to the basement. The sound of a whip laced with iron barbs cracking against his skin echoed through the house, followed by his heart-wrenching screams. My own heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest. My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. “He’s only five years old! You’ll kill him!” “I’ll do it! I’ll give you anything, just please, let my son go!” Before I could finish, Isabelle kicked me to the ground. “You should have been this cooperative from the start. It’s a privilege for your worthless life to be used to save Noah. Now, be a good boy and give up the kidney, or you will never see your son again.” I never imagined those words would become a prophecy. That surgery took my left kidney. But that wasn’t enough for Isabelle. To punish me for my “selfishness,” she had my barely conscious son dragged into the operating room as well. They took his kidney, she said, as a ‘spare’. “If you hadn’t wasted so much time, Noah wouldn’t have had to suffer for so long,” she had sneered. “This is the price for defying me.” After the surgery, Isabelle took Leo and Noah abroad to recover, leaving us behind without a second thought for five long years. The memory made her rub her temples in frustration. “Elias is a vindictive, spiteful creature. Finding him now will be difficult.” She sighed, her voice softening as she looked at Leo. “And my poor Noah has suffered so much because of him. When I find Elias, I will make him repay that suffering a hundred times over.” Leo nestled against her shoulder, his soft sobs the only sound. They looked like a pair of star-crossed lovers, united in their tragic struggle. My soul drifted, a powerless spectator, watching this scene with a bitter, profound sense of irony. They were searching so desperately for me, yet they had no idea I was right here, watching them. “Ms. MacLaren… we… we found him! We have a location on your son!” [2] The despair in the car vanished, replaced by a jolt of electric energy. Leo trembled with excitement, grabbing Isabelle’s arm. “Where? Tell me where they are!” “I’ll go to him right now. I’ll beg him. He can take my kidney, he can take my life, I don’t care!” he cried. “I’ll do anything to save Noah!” His voice was raw, his eyes red and vulnerable. A flicker of pity crossed Isabelle’s face. She squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you suffer like that. If that bastard dares to give you any trouble, I’ll make his entire family pay.” She turned to her assistant, her voice sharp as glass. “What are you waiting for? Get him and bring him here! Every second Noah waits is another moment of agony!” A sheen of cold sweat broke out on the assistant’s forehead. “But… but…” CRACK. The back of her hand sent him sprawling to the floor. Isabelle’s face was a thundercloud, her voice glacial. “Are you protecting them too?” “I’m warning you, if anything happens to Noah, I will hold you personally responsible.” The assistant scrambled to his feet, his voice shaking. “But, Ms. MacLaren… your son… he’s already dead.” “What did you say?!” Isabelle’s rage exploded. She kicked him hard in the stomach. “You better think very carefully before you speak again! Lie to me, and I’ll have you chopped up and fed to the dogs!” “It’s true…” the assistant gasped, holding out a file with a trembling hand. “The death certificate… it says he died of post-operative complications.” “The date of death… was the same day you left the country.” Isabelle’s brow furrowed, then she slammed her fist into the wall in a fit of rage. “That animal! He would let his own son die just to get back at me?” “I sent him a message myself, telling him to come pick the boy up. If he truly cared, how could Orion have died?” “He probably found some other rich woman to latch onto and saw Orion as a burden!” she spat. Her expression shifted. “But Orion was still a MacLaren. To be so heartless… he’s courting death!” Hearing this, Leo’s face paled almost imperceptibly. Hovering above, my spirit wept tears of blood. After my surgery, Isabelle had taken her entire medical team to escort Noah abroad. My Orion was left alone on a cold operating table, abandoned. The “message” she sent was a single, cold, automated text: [SURGERY COMPLETE]. I was frantic. Ignoring the searing pain in my own body, I clawed my way out of the basement, only to be stopped by Leo’s men. They broke my spine and threw me into a fighting pit. For three days and three nights, I was torn at by savage beasts, ripped apart, nearly eaten alive. But I couldn’t die. My son was waiting for me. On the third day, I finally managed to drag my mutilated body from that cage and crawl, with the last of my strength, to the hospital. But all I found was a room drenched in crimson. Orion lay on the operating table, his small body cold and still. He had bled out, waiting for a father who came too late. He closed his eyes forever, right before me. Isabelle had killed my son with her own hands, and now she had the audacity to slander me. “A worthless man who can’t even protect his own child has no right to be part of the MacLaren family! He let Orion die! I will make that scum pay with his life!” [3] Isabelle’s voice was frigid as she gave her orders to the assistant. “Go to his mother’s asylum. Drag her to the family cemetery. Make her crawl on her knees every step of the way. Cover the path with nails. I want to watch her crawl over them and atone for her son’s sins!” Leo quickly grabbed her arm. “Isabelle, no. As monstrous as he was, he was still your husband. Please, don’t be so cruel to his mother.” “He must have been devastated by Orion’s death. That’s why he ran. I don’t blame him.” “But now that Orion is gone… only Elias’s family can save Noah.” As if making a great, noble decision, Leo suddenly knelt before Isabelle. “Let me go and beg her! Elias was always jealous of your love for me. He couldn’t stand to see me happy.” He looked up, his pale face streaked with tears, a look of grim determination in his eyes. “If I let him humiliate me enough, maybe he’ll soften. As Noah’s father, it’s what I have to do…” Without another word, he slapped himself hard across the face, twice. Bright red handprints bloomed on his cheeks. Isabelle’s eyes widened. She grabbed his wrist. “Who told you you could hurt yourself?” “That worthless trash isn’t fit to have you kneel to him.” She sneered and pulled out her phone. “I have ways of making him come crawling to me.” Her finger swiped across the screen, and she dialed the number for the city’s top psychiatric hospital. “Bring me Elias Hébert’s mother. We’re about to find out just how tough he really is.” From my spectral prison, I let out a silent scream. I saw the flash of triumph in Leo’s eyes. He feigned terror, hiding behind Isabelle. “His mother… she always hated me. She called me a gold-digging whore, a kept man.” “Every time I tried to apologize, she would either scream at me or physically attack me. And now that she’s lost her mind…” “I’m… I’m so scared.” Isabelle gently wiped his tears away. “Don’t be afraid. As long as I’m here, no one will touch a single hair on your head.” My soul slammed against the invisible barrier, again and again, a futile, desperate assault. My mother was the only person I had left to care about in this world. And Isabelle was going after her too. She seemed to have forgotten how my mother had treated her. When Isabelle’s company was on the brink of collapse, it was my mother who mortgaged our ancestral home to bail her out. When she was nearly ousted from her own board, it was my mother who pushed for our marriage to secure her position. Isabelle had once looked me in the eye and sworn she would be loyal to me for the rest of her life. Now, she loved another man. “This will be a good chance to settle old scores for you,” she cooed, holding Leo close. “If Elias won’t show his face, his old hag of a mother will pay his debts.” I lunged at her, my spectral form passing through her body time and time again. The next time I saw my mother, she was slumped in a wheelchair, her eyes vacant. Leo knelt before her. “Ma’am, I know you hate me, but Noah is innocent… Please, tell me where Elias is. I’m begging you, save my baby!” He kowtowed repeatedly, but my mother began to tremble violently. Her cloudy eyes focused on Leo’s face, and a terrifying hatred flared within them. “You monster! You killed my son and my grandson… I will have my revenge, in this life or the next!” [4] My mother struggled to lunge at Leo, but Isabelle kicked the wheelchair over, sending her sprawling to the ground. She looked down at the old woman with contempt. “I pay for you to live in a comfortable care facility out of respect for our past. Is this how you repay me?” She ground the heel of her stiletto into my mother’s hand. “Tell me where Elias is, and I might let you have a clean death.” My mother lay on the floor, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. I tried desperately to shield her, but my ghostly form was useless. “Find Elias?” my mother suddenly laughed, hot tears streaming from her clouded eyes. “What right do you have to see him?” A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my very soul. Isabelle grabbed her by the chin, her voice venomous. “I’m giving him a chance to atone! Five years ago, his selfishness almost killed Noah! If he donates his other kidney like a good boy, I can pretend none of this ever happened—” Leo rushed over, throwing his arms around Isabelle. “Isabelle, don’t! It’s my place to beg him to save Noah. I don’t want anything else. I just want my son to be safe.” My mother stared at them, and a tearful, broken laugh escaped her lips. “Retribution! This is the price for your evil!” “Son, can you see? Those who sow wickedness will reap a bitter harvest!” Isabelle shot her an irritated glance. “Stop playing the crazy old woman! If he doesn’t show up in one hour, you’ll atone for him!” “Don’t waste your breath. He’s not coming back.” My mother coughed up a spray of blood, but her smile was unwavering. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “My son… he died at your hands a long time ago.” Isabelle’s pupils contracted. Then, a cold, certain smile spread across her face. “Old woman, there’s a limit to how far you can stretch a lie. It was just a kidney. It’s not a fatal procedure. Elias is a grown man. He’s not going to die from losing a kidney. He’s just hiding. How pathetic.” She gestured for her bodyguards to force my mother to her knees, then took a steel rod from an assistant. “Elias Hébert, you better be watching!” she said, turning on her phone’s video camera. “If your mother dies from an ‘accident’ today, her blood will be on your hands!” The steel rod came down hard on my mother’s back. Blood instantly soaked through her clothes. “Is licking the boots of some rich woman so satisfying that you’d abandon the mother who gave you life?” Isabelle sneered at the camera. “How utterly depraved.” The second blow landed with a sickening crack of bone. My mother whimpered and collapsed. I tried to stop it, my soul passing through her body again and again, my spectral tears falling unseen. When there was still no response from me, Isabelle’s eyes grew darker. “This old bitch is tougher than she looks.” My mother gritted her teeth against the pain and let out a soft chuckle. “Go ahead and kill me. Then I can finally be with my Elias and my Orion.” “You!” Enraged, Isabelle raised the rod again, but Leo threw himself in front of my mother. “Isabelle, stop! I just want to save Noah! I don’t want to hurt innocent people! Please, let her go.” Seeing him, Isabelle let out a long sigh, her expression softening. “Leo, you’re just too kind. That’s why Elias was always able to walk all over you.” Leo choked back a sob. “I know she never liked me, but I believe that kindness can beget kindness. If they’re willing to save my Noah, I can forgive everything that’s happened.” My soul trembled with a rage so profound it nearly tore me apart. It was Leo, using Isabelle’s affection as a weapon, who had driven us to our doom! Isabelle patted his back, a sudden thought occurring to her. She looked at my mother. “Elias is counting on you being too soft to hurt her. That’s why he’s hiding like a coward.” She waved over a doctor. “Take her for compatibility testing. One of the family’s kidneys has to be a match.” My mother was dragged roughly towards the operating room. They didn’t even bother with anesthesia before cutting her open. Isabelle took out her phone again and sent ten messages to my number. “If you don’t show up, I’ll livestream the organ removal.” When the test results came back, the assistant burst into the room, his face white as a sheet. In his hand, he clutched an old, battered cell phone. Isabelle turned away in annoyance. “Why are you showing me that piece of junk? Where is Elias?!” “Ms. MacLaren… this was Mr. Hébert’s phone.” Isabelle shot to her feet. “What are you talking about?” The assistant’s voice trembled. “We found… we found Mr. Hébert’s body. In a cemetery on the outskirts of the city.” “The autopsy shows a fractured spine… and his entire body was covered in bite marks from wild animals…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389705”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“If I could choose, I’d pick Amber to be my sister-in-law.” My boyfriend’s sister, Brianna, shot me a defiant look as she said it, topping it off with a dramatic eye-roll. Everyone tensed, expecting fireworks. They were all waiting for the legendary showdown between the future sisters-in-law. But instead, I smiled and voiced my agreement. Then, I announced our breakup on the spot. My boyfriend, Brandon, told me I was being ridiculous. But when I packed my bag and left the campsite in the middle of the night, he saw me. He didn’t try to stop me. Instead, he turned to comfort that girl, Amber. “I’m so sorry,” he said to her. “That must have been so awkward for you. I apologize on Zoe’s behalf.” I wasn’t sad. Not at all. In fact, my heart was soaring with anticipation. This time, in the car crash on the way back, I wouldn’t be there to lose the use of my right arm saving Brianna, only to be despised by her entire family for it. Without me to save her, would Brianna even survive? I was eager to find out. 01 In my last life, Brianna had humiliated me in the exact same way. My response then had been to throw a full glass of beer in her face. The fight that followed was spectacular. A real glimpse into our future sisterly bond. Brandon, my boyfriend, had immediately taken her side, shielding both his sister and her best friend, Amber. I might have won the physical fight—yanking out a fistful of Brianna’s hair and landing a solid kick on the perpetually smirking Amber—but I had lost all face. Even so, I didn’t leave that night. Because Brandon wasn’t just my boyfriend; he was also my boss. I was afraid that if I pushed things too far, I’d lose my job along with my relationship. I was just another transplant in the sprawling city of Havenport, a girl from a smaller town with a replaceable job as an executive assistant. With my liberal arts degree from a good-but-not-great state school, finding another job in Havenport’s brutal market would be a nightmare. And my parents, who had poured all their hopes into me, would never accept me moving back to my hometown of Maple Creek. As they always said, Maple Creek was a town where you needed connections to get by, and their small, struggling tailor shop gave them none. They told me that if I couldn’t make it in Havenport after getting my degree there, it would be a source of shame for them, a reason for the neighbors to laugh. In my last life, I spent that whole night huddled in a dark corner of the campsite, miserable and alone. Brandon never came to find me. The next morning, after the sunrise, I swallowed my pride, reappeared, and successfully fought off Amber to reclaim the front passenger seat. My plan was simple and brutal: until I found a new job, I had to cling to my status as Brandon’s girlfriend. On the drive back, our car swerved to avoid a truck and flipped. Brianna and I were both on the right side of the car. We were both flung out, left dangling over the edge of a cliff. She had managed to grab a small, flimsy branch, while I was clinging to the main trunk of a tree. When her branch started to splinter, I pushed aside all our past grievances and, without a second thought, used my right arm to grab her, holding on for dear life. Brandon and Amber were still in the car, but Brandon was too busy fussing over a tiny scratch on Amber’s head to even notice we were about to die. I held on, my arm screaming in protest, until other drivers stopped and worked together to pull us up. In the end, Brianna was completely unharmed. But my right arm, starved of blood for so long, was permanently damaged. The media praised my heroic act. Brandon’s company was in a critical pre-IPO stage, so to save face, the family had him marry me. Brianna was not grateful. Instead, she accused me of using my “heroism” to trap her brother, ruining his bright future. She and Amber even moved into our home, claiming it was closer to their university. It was clear she wouldn’t rest until Amber was in Brandon’s bed. We had another fight. I only had one good arm, but Brandon didn’t help me. He just called me petty and intolerant for not getting along with his own sister. Then he turned to Amber, his voice dripping with gentle concern. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. This is my house. You and my sister can stay as long as you like. Don’t listen to anyone else.” When my in-laws heard, they rushed over to support their darling daughter. My father-in-law slammed his fist on the table. “This house belongs to the White family! My daughter can live here if she wants to! What right do you, an outsider, have to say anything?” My mother-in-law rolled her eyes. “We already allowed Brandon to marry you. What more do you want? Don’t think you can boss us around for the rest of your life just because you saved our daughter once. You don’t run this house!” Brianna twisted the knife. “Mom, Dad, you’re too kind! That arm of hers was probably useless before she even ‘saved’ me. She just found the perfect opportunity to blame it on our family.” I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “So, you’re angry that I saved you?” Brianna puffed out her chest, oozing confidence. “Of course! If you hadn’t grabbed me, I would have swung over and grabbed the main trunk myself.” She paused, then pushed Amber forward. “Besides, if you had just given the front seat to Amber, who gets carsick, she would have been able to grab me. Neither of us would have fallen out in the first place.” Finally, she delivered her verdict. “Amber is way smarter than you. She’s the one who should be my sister-in-law!” I turned to Brandon, who had been silent the whole time. “Is that what you think, too?” He didn’t answer directly, just rubbed his temples in frustration. “Zoe, that’s enough! My sister brought a friend to stay, is it really that big of a deal? When are you going to stop this drama? If you can’t handle it, then get a divorce and get out!” The last sliver of hope I had for a shred of comfort from him turned to ice. As if on cue, Brianna clapped her hands. “Yes, divorce! Get a divorce right now! I’m so glad you’ve finally come to your senses, brother!” She shoved Amber into his arms. “You two are perfect for each other! Maybe you can even give me a nephew tonight!” Brandon didn’t pull away. Amber burrowed into his chest and offered me a saccharine apology. “Zoe, I’m so sorry. Brianna is just joking.” For a second, I thought that despite her scheming, she had a shred of decency left. Then her tone shifted. “But, Zoe, let’s be real. You need to stop holding this ‘I saved her life’ thing over everyone’s heads. You already got the man. You should be focused on making him happy, not turning his home into a warzone. It’s heartbreaking to see him looking so drained all the time. You can only cash in on a debt of gratitude once. You can’t hold him hostage with it forever, can you?” Mr. and Mrs. White nodded vigorously, agreeing that I was an ungrateful troublemaker. With my crippled arm, I couldn’t even find a job, yet I refused to obediently serve my husband. Their son was the unluckiest man alive to have married me. It was five mouths against one. Finally, I lost control. I charged into the kitchen and came back with a butcher knife… My mind was a chaotic blur. All I remember now, after being reborn, is that in the end, I was the only one left standing. 02 The first words I heard in my new life were Brianna’s: she wished Amber was her sister-in-law. The righteous fury from my past life was gone. In its place was a genuine desire to grant her wish. I clapped my hands with a smile. “I second that!” To show my sincerity, I stood up. “Effective immediately, Brandon White and I are no longer in a relationship. For the rest of our lives, our paths will not cross—not for weddings, not for funerals, not for anything.” Brianna’s eyes lit up. “Let’s see you stick to that!” I nodded solemnly and raised three fingers. “If I don’t, may I be struck by lightning, hit by a car, and choke to death on a glass of water.” Brandon frowned, hissing at me under his breath. “Zoe, stop being ridiculous. Don’t sink to her level.” He was speaking to me, but his eyes were darting toward Amber, gauging her reaction. Amber just smiled and pinched Brianna’s arm. “Alright, Brianna, look what you did. You’ve cornered Zoe and left her with no way out.” “What way out does she need?” Brianna scoffed. “She’s just some country bumpkin. She doesn’t deserve our respect.” I was desperate to escape these toxic people, but I wasn’t going to crawl away with my tail between my legs. So, just like last time, I threw a glass of beer in Brianna’s face. Except this time, I didn’t just stand there waiting for her to retaliate. I moved first, grabbing a fistful of her hair from behind and yanking her head back, immobilizing her. Amber must have thought I was still the same impulsive but ultimately submissive Zoe from before. She rushed forward to help her friend, but a swift kick sent her sprawling to the ground. In my past life, I could take down a group of people with a knife in one hand. Now, with two perfectly good arms and legs, dealing with a two-faced schemer who wasn’t even fighting back seriously was child’s play. Brandon started to move toward me, but I stopped him with a sharp threat. “You’d better not move. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee what might slip out of my mouth.” Brandon had a secret. To secure funding for his company, he’d been drugged by a male investor. It never went all the way, but there was a video. I was the one who got him out of that situation; it was how we met. He pursued me, claiming he was grateful for my kindness, but I knew the real reason was to keep me quiet. Of course, my looks were a major factor too. If I weren’t so hung up on him, his financial status at the time wouldn’t have even qualified him to be my boyfriend. That video was his deepest, darkest secret, something he would rather die than have exposed. He suspected I had a copy, so my words froze him in his tracks. His friends, who lived by the rule of not getting involved, had already backed away. Amber, who had been so smug just moments before, was now cowering behind Brandon like a frightened quail. As long as I wasn’t afraid to die, everyone else was. My entire demeanor was a world away from the last time. Brianna’s scalp was on fire, and she was wailing in pain. I kicked the back of her knees, forcing her to kneel before me. “I’m just curious,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “A person who barely scored a combined 150 on her college entrance exams—do you even know how to spell the word ‘country’?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389721”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Every time my fiancé, Julian Blackwood, was reassigned to a new post, he demanded I travel ahead to prepare everything. Not for our future, but for the comfort of his mentor’s daughter, Lillian Vale. This time, Julian was demoted to a remote outpost in the Dakota Territories. He urgently ordered me to pack up my small bakery and take a riverboat west. Perhaps he rushed me too much, or perhaps my fever from a lingering cold clouded my mind. Halfway through the journey, I realized I was on the wrong boat. “Miss, this boat is headed for New Orleans, not the Dakotas,” the captain said gently. The captain, a kind man, offered to drop me at the next port so I could catch the right vessel. I stared at the misty river for a long time before finally speaking. “No need. New Orleans will do just fine.” Chapter 1 When the captain told me I was on the wrong boat, I was still reading the letter Julian had shoved into my hands before he left. Just like always, it was three full pages of instructions. But not for me. For Lillian Vale, the daughter of his disgraced mentor. Autumn is approaching. I hear the Dakotas are damp and prone to snakes. Purchase snake repellent. Lillian is frail; ensure the house faces south to catch the sun. Lillian fears the cold. Place extra coal braziers in her room and buy only the finest anthracite. The local food is too spicy for her delicate stomach. Find a cook who specializes in mild, refined cuisine. Lillian loves poetry and flowers. Plant a garden for her, but avoid gaudy peonies. She prefers chrysanthemums, plum blossoms, and orchids. Lillian dislikes uneducated servants. Find maids who can read and write. Lillian has been melancholy lately. See if there is a local opera troupe to entertain her. Lillian’s skin is sensitive. Buy several yards of the softest silk for her new dresses. … Lillian, Lillian, everything was about Lillian. I flipped to the end, hoping to find my name even once. I didn’t. My head throbbed from the fever, and the dense handwriting made my eyes ache. I should have been used to this. It wasn’t the first time. Lillian Vale was the daughter of Julian’s mentor, a once-powerful Senator who had been the Vice President’s closest advisor. But two years ago, a scandal involving embezzlement and treason rocked Washington. The Vice President was forced to resign, and the Senator, pleading his case too strongly, was stripped of his titles and influence. The once-glamorous Vale estate became a place to avoid. The Senator died of a broken heart shortly after, leaving Lillian alone. Julian, ever the loyal student, defied the political winds and took Lillian in, caring for her with a devotion that bordered on obsession. He told me he could never repay his mentor’s kindness. He had to care for Lillian until she found a suitable husband. So our wedding was postponed. Again and again. From Washington D.C. to Ohio, then to Missouri, and now to the Dakotas. Each demotion was because of her, yet he never worried about his career or me, his fiancée. He only worried if Lillian was comfortable. He always made me travel ahead to prepare the way. He said Lillian was a delicate flower, raised in luxury, so she had to travel slowly in a cushioned carriage. The first time I traveled by boat to prepare a home for them, I was violently seasick for weeks. I nearly died. When Julian found out, he offered a few words of comfort before immediately asking if Lillian’s room was ready. That time, I dragged my sick body around for a month to create a perfect sanctuary. When Lillian finally arrived, she glanced at my handiwork and sniffed, “Thank you, Sarah. It’s… livable, I suppose.” Just that one sentence made Julian’s face fall. He didn’t scold me, but from then on, his instructions regarding Lillian became more detailed, more demanding. Chapter 2 “Miss?” The captain’s voice brought me back. I asked how far the Dakotas were. Julian’s list was long; it would take weeks to fulfill. But maybe because he rushed me, or maybe the fever had addled my brain, I had boarded the wrong boat. “This boat is going to New Orleans,” the captain repeated. Panic flared for a second. The captain saw my pale face and assumed I was in trouble. “Don’t worry, miss. With the current, we’re making good time. I can drop you off, and you’ll only be delayed five or six days.” I watched a seagull skim the water and disappear into the gray sky. My hand tightened around the letter. I stared blankly until my eyes focused on the very last line of the letter. Thank you for your hard work, sister. Julian. That was the only line addressed to me. Julian always called me “sister” when he needed something. I pulled the marriage contract from my bag and ran my finger over the signatures. Two hearts united, a vow for eternity… Signed, Julian Blackwood – Sarah. He wrote this after passing the Bar exam with top honors. Back then, he was radiant. “Sarah,” he said, eyes shining, “I will never let you down.” The Blackwoods were once wealthy merchants, and I was a servant girl bought by Mrs. Blackwood. My gambling father had planned to sell me to a brothel. Mrs. Blackwood saved me and assigned me to eight-year-old Julian. But tragedy struck. Mr. Blackwood was killed by bandits during a trade run, and the family fortune was lost. Mrs. Blackwood fell ill, and the servants were dismissed. I stayed. She had saved my life; I owed her mine. For years, it was just the three of us. I took in washing, did embroidery, my hands raw and cracked from the cold water. Later, a kind bakery owner taught me to make pastries, and I opened a small stall. That’s how I supported Julian through school. When Mrs. Blackwood died, she made Julian kneel and swear he would never abandon me. From then on, it was just us. He started calling me “sister,” terrified I would leave him. “Sister, I’ll become a great man,” he promised, tears in his eyes. “I’ll marry you properly and you’ll never suffer again.” I thought it was just a child’s promise. But the day he passed the Bar, he rode home on a high horse, holding the marriage contract. “I’m here to marry you, Sarah.” My heart surrendered then and there. But then Lillian appeared. The first time we met her, she was reading under a peach tree at the Senator’s estate. A breeze blew petals onto her book. She brushed them away and smiled at us. That smile stole Julian’s heart. He started visiting the Vale estate constantly. He forgot to bring me chestnut cakes. He forgot to teach me to read. He forgot my birthday. He forgot the marriage contract. When Lillian asked who I was, he said casually, “She’s a maid my mother left me.” Chapter 3 “Miss?” The captain called again. A gust of wind snatched the marriage contract from my hand. It danced in the air before landing on the water and sinking into the dark river. “Your paper!” the captain cried. “I don’t have a net…” I didn’t move. I watched the spot where it vanished. “No need,” I said softly. “Just go to New Orleans.” “But your paper…” “It wasn’t important. Let it go.” I wasn’t going to the Dakotas. I wasn’t waiting for Julian anymore. I threw Julian’s three-page letter into the boat’s furnace. The fine paper burned in an instant. The captain didn’t ask further questions. He handed me a cup of hot tea. “New Orleans is a good place,” he said. “Better than the Dakotas.” I smiled but said nothing. My heart felt incredibly calm, like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted. The boat traveled for another week. When we arrived in New Orleans, the weather cleared, revealing a vibrant, bustling city. It was a wealthy place. Perhaps because my mood had lifted, my cold was gone. I paid the captain and walked onto the dock with a light step. I didn’t have much money. Julian’s salary had barely covered his lavish spending on Lillian; my bakery earnings had subsidized everything. But years of managing his household had taught me how to stretch a dollar. I rented a small, cheap courtyard in a decent location and set up my bakery again. My pastries were good—soft, sweet, and comforting. In Washington, I used to sell out early every day. Julian had once stopped me from selling pastries after he became an official, saying it was beneath us. But when money got tight with Lillian around, he suggested I start again. “You’re used to being busy,” he said. “I worry you’ll be bored.” Now I realize he wasn’t worried about me. He was worried Lillian would have to live frugally. To him, Lillian was jade, and I was just a stone. I shook my head and served a bowl of warm tofu pudding to a customer. It was all in the past. Now, I lived for myself. I planned to save money, buy a small house, plant a garden, maybe raise some chickens. If I had extra, I’d travel. I had been blind before. Julian was never meant for a village girl like me. I had repaid Mrs. Blackwood’s kindness for ten years. It was enough. Julian and I were even. Chapter 4 The carriage journey took a month. Lillian couldn’t handle the bumps, so they stopped constantly. Julian calculated the time, figuring I should have arrived in the Dakotas by now. But he felt uneasy. Usually, I would send a letter upon arrival to report that everything was ready. This time, no letter came. Julian began to worry. Had something happened to me? “Lillian, Sarah hasn’t written. I’m worried. Should we pick up the pace?” Lillian coughed weakly, her face pale. “It’s my fault. My weak body is delaying us. Julian, go ahead. Find Sarah. It’s not safe for a woman alone.” She coughed again, looking like she might faint. Julian panicked. “No, no. You can’t handle the rush. Sarah has always been fine before. She probably just forgot to write because she’s busy. We’ll rest a few more days.” Lillian’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m such a burden. I make Sarah work so hard. sometimes I think I should just die…” Julian held her, forgetting all propriety. “Don’t say that. The Senator would be heartbroken. I will never abandon you.” He sat down to write another letter, this time filled with annoyance at me. Sarah, if you are in the Dakotas, write back immediately. Lillian is worried sick and blaming herself. Don’t play games and make us worry. The weather is getting cold, and Lillian’s cough is back. Make some pear syrup and buy a fox fur coat for her… He wrote four or five pages. At the end, looking at the pages filled with Lillian’s name, he felt a twinge of guilt. He remembered how pale I looked the day he sent me away. He added a line: Is your cold better? Sister. But it looked awkward. He crumpled the paper and started a new sheet. He wrote only eight words: Thank you for your hard work, sister. Julian.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389737”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The autistic boy in my class was being bullied. I saw his inner thoughts floating above his head: [These people are so loud. I hate it.] I went over to help him, only to realize he had been secretly watching me the whole time. The thought bubble above his head changed: [Doll. Pretty. Want to kiss.] The next second, he leaned in and kissed me. Chapter 1 Freshman year at State, a boy in my class caught my attention. His name was Charlie Star. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, clean-cut, and beautiful. His grades were freakishly good. But he always kept his head down, sketching in his notebook, never speaking to anyone. Before long, his reputation as the “aloof genius” spread across campus. Only I knew the truth. It wasn’t arrogance. I could see his thoughts. They appeared as text bubbles floating right above his head. His inner world was rich and colorful. He was the cutest boy I’d ever seen. He was… an angel from the stars. Yes, he was on the autism spectrum. Eventually, the secret couldn’t be kept. During a break, a group of frat guys surrounded Charlie, laughing nastily. One of them held a Mountain Dew bottle filled with a suspicious yellow liquid, taunting him. “Hey, bought you a soda. Drink up.” “If you don’t drink it, you’re disrespecting the brotherhood.” They pressured him, their eyes full of malice. Charlie buried his head lower, his fingers gripping his pencil, bending and unbending unconsciously. Brad, the leader with the bleached hair, roughly snatched the sketchbook from Charlie’s desk. He held it up high and whistled. “Damn, bro. You spend all class thinking about girls?” I glanced over. It wasn’t a girl. It was a drawing of a porcelain doll. The guys chimed in, sneering. “You like the doll type? Got a blow-up one at home? Lemme borrow it for a few days.” “Even retards know how to get off?” “Were you touching yourself under the desk? Stand up, let’s see if your pants are wet.” The vile comments came in waves. Charlie shrank back against the wall, twisting the pencil in his hand, silent. Seeing this, Brad laughed. “Hey! He’s not just stupid, he’s a mute too!” Charlie still didn’t react. “Tsk.” Brad tossed the bottle to his lackey, lit a cigarette, and said impatiently: “Go on, feed him. That’s daddy’s special brew. Make sure he drinks every drop.” I frowned, hearing the whispers from nearby students. “That’s Brad, right? His family has money, so he thinks he owns the place.” “Yeah, I saw him in the bathroom filling that bottle. It’s pee.” “Ugh, that’s disgusting.” Brad squinted, blowing smoke rings, basking in the attention. He sat on the edge of the desk, one foot planted on the surface, smiling wickedly at the room. “Ladies, did you know your icy campus heartthrob is autistic?” He flicked his ash onto the clean floor and sneered. “Autistic basically just means retard.” The room erupted in whispers. Charlie usually kept to himself, so no one noticed. But now, seeing him cowering and mute, he clearly didn’t look neurotypical. The looks directed at Charlie changed. “It might be true. Avoiding eye contact, not responding… those are symptoms.” “There was an autistic kid in my neighborhood who pushed his mom down the stairs. It was terrifying.” “I saw one on the subway once, screaming and hitting himself. Scared me to death.” “Holy crap. I don’t want to be in the same class as him.” “If he’s sick, he should be in an institution. Why is the school hiding this? Are they trying to get us killed?” The noise grew louder. Brad chin-lifted, gesturing for silence with his palm down. “Relax. I’m teaching him a lesson for you.” “Don’t fall in love with me for saving the day, ladies.” Brad tossed his cigarette butt on the floor and kicked his lackey. “Feed him! What are you waiting for?” The lackey flinched. “Brad, if I get one more strike, I’m expelled. Can’t Mike do it?” Mike kicked him back. “Didn’t you hear Brad? We’re doing a public service. Don’t be a wuss.” I looked down at the glowing cherry of the cigarette butt near my foot and laughed. Public service? Removing a pest? I stepped forward, picked up the burning cigarette, and walked toward Brad. Chapter 2 The bottle was open. The sharp smell of ammonia filled the classroom. The opening of the bottle inched closer to Charlie. The thoughts above his head flashed rapidly: [I hate this!] [So loud!] [Must hold it in. Can’t hit people.] [Can’t scream.] [Can’t…] I stood in front of Brad and spoke calmly. “Campus security is on the way.” He paused, then raged. “Did you snitch?” I didn’t answer. I snatched the bottle of urine and, without hesitation, dumped it onto Brad’s lap. The liquid soaked his jeans, dripping down his legs to the floor. It looked like he’d wet himself. Brad stood there, stunned, before the blood rushed to his face. He looked like an angry pig. “You b*tch!” He raised his leg to kick me in the chest. I dodged the kick and the flying droplets easily. I grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed his face onto the desk. I held the burning cigarette less than an inch from his eyeball. Brad actually peed himself this time. Out of fear. The sound of dripping liquid made the girls nearby cover their eyes and mouths. Brad was trembling, begging me to let go, terrified for his eye. His lackeys surrounded me, threatening me to release him. I ignored them and shoved the empty soda bottle into Brad’s hand. “Every drop. Understand?” “Yeah, yeah… I get it…” I loosened my grip. Brad tried to fight back, but I slammed him down again. I twisted his arm until he screamed. “Ow! Easy… I’ll drink it, I’ll drink it!” He squeezed his eyes shut, about to drink. Just then, the Dean of Students burst in. “What is going on here?!” I let go, looking innocent. “Professor, I was just treating him to a soda.” Brad’s eyes were bloodshot. He gritted his teeth. “Soda my ass, that was—” “That was what?” I glanced at him coldly. Brad looked at the crowd, then at Charlie cowering in the corner. He ground his teeth so hard I thought they’d crack. He had to swallow it. “Nothing, sir. We were just… playing a game.” The Dean’s face softened slightly. He gave a vague lecture and let it go. Brad wasn’t afraid of the Dean, but he didn’t want his dad to find out. He glared at me. “Sierra Quinn. We’ll play again sometime.” He emphasized the word “play.” I didn’t even look at him. The bell rang. The next class was an elective in the building next door. Charlie and I didn’t have that class, so we could leave. I looked at Charlie. “You coming?” He stared at me blankly, stealing glances. Weirdly, I read a sense of shyness in his eyes. I pointed at his sketchbook. “You like dolls?” He didn’t answer, but his eyes lit up. A sentence floated above his head: [Doll. Like. Want to kiss.] Suddenly, a warm sensation brushed my cheek. I touched the lingering warmth and looked at him. The corner of his mouth was tiliting up. “Why did you kiss me? Because I look like a doll?” He nodded, then shook his head, looking conflicted. He tentatively reached out and touched my wrist bone, his smile shy and sweet. I pulled my hand back. “You know, kissing someone without consent is assault. I could call the cops.” Charlie gripped his pencil tight, looking terrified. “Don’t arrest me.” “So what do we do? You took advantage of me.” Charlie thought for a long time, then looked at my lips. “You kiss me. Then it’s fair.” “You mean… I kiss you, and we’re even?” He nodded, eyes pure. “You wish.” I rolled my eyes, went back to my seat, packed my bag, and left. He followed me like a little puppy. I turned around to warn him off. His phone rang. It was his mom. He listened for a moment. “Okay, Mom.” I raised an eyebrow. “Your mom calling you home?” “Mmhmm.” “Then go.” “…Oh.” He looked aggrieved, glancing at me like he wanted to say something. Multiple sentences floated above his head: [Why is Doll being mean… Why won’t she kiss me? Does she not like me…] I stayed silent for a moment, but couldn’t help myself. “My name is Sierra. Not Doll. Got it?” “Si… err… a.” Charlie wrote my name in his sketchbook, pressing his lips together to hide a smile. “Got it.” “Okay, go home.” I knew he lived off-campus. The sky was turning black; a storm was coming. If something happened to him, I’d feel responsible. “…Oh.” He said “Oh” but didn’t move. His eyes were locked on my lips, waiting. “I’m not kissing you. Leave or don’t, I don’t care.” I walked around him and strode away. Behind me, his lonely figure grew smaller. Charlie looked like he was about to cry. He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t kiss him. The books said reciprocity is a virtue. Doll wasn’t polite at all. But he still liked her so much. Chapter 3 I drove off campus and found a cafe to work on my term paper. By the time I finished, it had been raining for over half an hour. Outside, the sky was as dark as midnight. Lightning flashed, and for some reason, Charlie’s clean, beautiful face popped into my mind. My phone buzzed. I unlocked it. My roommate, Snow, had sent me a link. [Sierra, look at this.] The post title was: Is this the autistic genius of State U? I clicked it. It was a photo of Charlie. He was hugging his sketchbook tightly, standing on the curb in the pouring rain. In front of him were orange construction cones and a sign: “Road Work Ahead. Please Detour.” The comments were a mix of cruelty and thirst. “Is that the Rain Man kid?” “I’m there right now. He’s like a lost dog. Can’t even walk around a cone. Been standing there for 30 mins.” “I offered him an umbrella and he ignored me. Let him soak.” “Holy crap, he’s hot though! Even wet he looks like a model.” “I can fix him.” “Go bring him an umbrella then!” “Your priority should be deleting Wattpad, girl.” … I looked at the torrential rain outside. I sighed, grabbed my bag and keys, and ran out. One symptom of autism is rigid behavior. Repeating actions, obsession with specific objects, needing fixed routes. Because of the construction, his route home was broken. Charlie didn’t know how to get home. I drove there and saw him, soaked to the bone, being pointed at by strangers. He stood there, spinning the pencil in his fingers, his expression blank. But I knew he was terrified. He just couldn’t express it or ask for help. He could only spin the pencil to channel his anxiety. Lightning split the sky again. “Is he stupid? I asked if he needed help and he ignored me.” “Is this performance art? I don’t get it.” “Poor guy.” “He’s so beautiful. Like a statue.” “His eyes are so clean. Like a human with no additives.” I walked up to him through the gossip and looked up. “Did you bring an umbrella?” Charlie saw me, and his eyes lit up. “Doll.” I glared at him. He corrected himself timidly. “Sierra.” “Did you bring an umbrella?” I repeated. Charlie looked at my open umbrella with a pout. “Yes.” Was he upset I wasn’t sharing mine? Give a man a fish, teach a man to fish. “Take it out. Open it. Hold it up like me.” He listened and did exactly as I said. “Why aren’t you going home?” Charlie pointed at the cones, his voice wobbling. “Can’t pass, Sierra.” “Don’t cry. I’ll take you.” I held out my hand. Charlie hesitated, then gently pinched my sleeve with two fingers, smiling shyly. In the car, I gave him a blanket. “Can you put on your seatbelt?” Charlie shook his head slowly. I leaned over to grab the belt. “Where do you live?” He gripped his pencil tight, his ears turning bright red, holding his breath. I looked at him weirdly. “What’s wrong?” “Too… too close,” he stammered. I froze, quickly clicked the belt, and pulled back. “Breathe. You’re gonna pass out.” He took small gasps of air and recited an address. It wasn’t far. Just a couple of turns. Looking at his soaked clothes, I asked, “Is anyone home?” “Mom said she’s not coming home tonight.” I nodded. “What about your dad?” “No dad.” “Oh.” Single-parent household. I took him up the elevator. Watching him type his passcode with zero cover, I scolded him. “Don’t type your code in front of strangers. It’s dangerous.” Charlie blurted out: “Sierra isn’t a stranger. She’s the person I like.” I followed him inside, looking around. “Do you say ‘I like you’ to everyone you see?” Charlie looked at me with pure eyes, then looked away, shy. “No. Only like Sierra.” My heart twitched. “Your mom would be sad to hear that. She worked hard to raise you.” Charlie seemed confused. “Like Mom too.” “You just said you only like me. Liar.” Charlie didn’t know how to explain that it was a different kind of like. Unable to form the sentences, tears welled up in his eyes. “Don’t cry. Hold it in or I’m leaving.” Hearing my threat, he stopped immediately, spinning his pencil furiously to calm down. I softened my tone. “Go get clothes and shower. You’ll get sick.” “Can you shower by yourself?” He nodded and went to get clothes. But he hovered at the bathroom door. I glanced at his thought bubble. [Scared she’ll leave.] “I’m not leaving. Go.” He finally went in. I scrolled through TikTok, bored. Eventually, the sound of water distracted me. “Sierra, I’m done.” Charlie came out towel-drying his hair. A drop of water rolled down his neck into his collarbone. Without thinking, I asked, “Do you have abs?” He looked at me blankly, looked down at his stomach, and smiled shyly. “Yes. Want to see?” He reached for the hem of his shirt. His eyes were so innocent it felt like a crime to look. I closed my eyes. “Don’t flirt. I’m not looking.” “Oh.” He sounded disappointed. I pointed to a photo on the shelf. “You really like that doll?” In the photo, a teenage Charlie was holding a porcelain doll. The doll had a rose pinned to its chest. Charlie smiled. “Like.” Suddenly, his phone rang. FaceTime from Mom. He answered. His mom saw me in the background and gasped. “Charlie? Is that a friend?” Charlie hesitated. Silence. The silence was suspicious. I jumped in. “Hi Ms. Star, I’m Sierra. I’m his classmate.” His mom looked thrilled. “This is the first time Charlie has brought someone home. He must really like you.” I explained the road construction situation briefly. “I saw him and gave him a ride.” She thanked me profusely, though she looked pale and sickly. “Charlie, it’s Mom’s fault. I should have picked you up.” She talked a lot. Charlie mostly stayed silent. She said the caretaker, Mrs. Lee, was almost there. Charlie kept nodding, but his eyes were glued to me, smiling like a goof. When his mom said it was late and I should go back to campus, he gripped his pencil until his knuckles turned white. His mom read him instantly. “You don’t want Sierra to leave?” Charlie glanced at me, turned his back, and nodded shyly. She explained gently that I couldn’t stay. The doorbell rang. Mrs. Lee arrived. Charlie’s mom asked to speak to me. I took the phone. “Child, have we met before?” My fingers tightened. She recognized me. But I didn’t want to talk about it. I smiled flawlessly. “I don’t think so. I just have one of those faces.” Chapter 4 Before leaving, I couldn’t handle his puppy-dog eyes, so I added him on WeChat. By the time I got to the parking garage, I had ten messages. By the time I showered at the dorm, I had 99+. I replied to a few, ordering him to sleep. The next day, I went to class. Every empty seat had a backpack or book on it. “Saved,” they said. Anyone could sit there. Except Charlie. They were freezing him out. Charlie stood at the back, head down, grinding the pencil into his palm. A wave of annoyance hit me. I walked over to him. Someone whispered: “Does Sierra like the retard? Why is she protecting him?” “Maybe they’re related? They look kinda similar.” Similar? I looked at Charlie’s face. We did look good together. “Sierra, I miss you,” Charlie blurted out. I sighed and took his hand. “Open.” He curled his fingers, then slowly opened them under my stare. His palm was covered in grey graphite and red scratches. I took the pencil stub and put it in my pocket. Without his anxiety anchor, Charlie panicked. He looked at my pocket. “Pencil, Sierra.” “Shh.” I held his hand, picked a random desk, swept the “saved” book onto the floor, and sat him down. The students remembered what I did to Brad. No one said a word. They just grabbed their stuff and moved away. The seats around us emptied instantly. Charlie pulled his hand away. He buried his face in his arms on the desk. He was mad. Mad I took his pencil. He was trying to self-regulate to stop himself from getting angry at me. I pushed a wet wipe and the pencil back to him. “Don’t be mad. Clean your hands. Don’t hold it like that, you’ll get hurt.” Charlie’s mood flipped instantly. He smiled, cleaning his hands carefully. The professor arrived and gave a stern lecture about bullying, likely tipped off by Charlie’s mom. She explained Charlie was harmless. But prejudice is a mountain. No one sat near him. Except me. Another day after school. He pestered me to go to the convenience store to buy a new sketchbook. People stared. Charlie ignored them, eyes only on me. At the register, the cashier, smoking a cigarette, ignored Charlie and handed the card reader to me. I glared at him. The guy shoved the machine at Charlie, muttering, “The dummy knows how to use a card?” I was furious. I dumped the items on the counter and dragged Charlie out. In the car, I scolded him. “You’re smiling? People treat you like dirt!” “I’m sorry, don’t be mad, Sierra~” He tugged my sleeve, smiling purely. My anger vanished. I drove to a different store. Then took him home. Charlie lingered, his eyes brushing my cheek. I looked at his thought bubble. He wanted to kiss me. “Do you want to kiss me?” I asked. He nodded, eyes focused on my cheek. “Look me in the eye and answer.” “Want kiss, Sierra.” He still couldn’t make eye contact. “Look at my eyes.” He spun his pencil, eyes darting away. He couldn’t do it. “Five seconds. Eye contact for five seconds, and you get a kiss.” He went silent. Finally, he whispered, “Sierra…” I turned, meeting a pair of clean, innocent eyes. One, two… My heart started pounding like crazy. Fifth second. A soft kiss grazed my cheek. Like a breeze. I touched my hot face. “Okay, go home.” Charlie smiled, satisfied. To him, it was just affection. He didn’t know he had just messed up a girl’s heart.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389753”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The third time the hotel clerk hammered on my door that morning, I lost it. The kind of rage I usually reserve for micromanaging clients, I unleashed on him. “Why in God’s name do you keep coming back? Is it really that difficult to let a paying guest get some sleep? I pulled three consecutive all-nighters to finalize a pitch, and all I want now is a few hours of peace!” Ordinarily, I could tolerate minor annoyances. But he had clearly seen the “Do Not Disturb” sign I’d physically fumbled onto the knob, yet he was determined to wake me up just so they could clean the room on their schedule. I was running on fumes, and my patience was nonexistent. The other side of the door went quiet for a few seconds, followed by an audible, impatient tsk. His footsteps receded. But it wasn’t long before a louder, more aggressive pounding erupted. “Sir! Routine safety equipment check! We have to verify the smoke alarm is functional! Open the door, please!” My head was pounding. I raised my voice, trying to keep a lid on the fire: “It’s fine… I promise the equipment is fine…” I flipped over, pulling the covers over my head, desperately trying to trick myself back into a coma-like sleep. I had barely managed to glue my eyelids shut for ten minutes. Beep! Click-clack! The sound of the lock being overridden violently jolted me awake. 1 The young clerk, Devin, strode straight to the bed and ripped the duvet right off me! A small, smug smile played on his lips as he slammed a clipboard and pen onto the bedside table. “Since you are so certain you require no service, you must sign this form, confirming that you actively refused housekeeping and the safety check!” he declared. “That way, if you experience any loss of property or personal injury in this room, The Prescott Hotel is in no way liable!” I had finished the pitch to that micromanaging client after three continuous all-nighters, and I felt like the last vestiges of my soul had been drained out. I’d barely made it back to the corporate-booked hotel, too exhausted to even unpack my carry-on. Before I sank into a complete blackout, I’d groped for the “Do Not Disturb” sign and hung it on the outside of the door handle. Then I crashed. At that point, I wouldn’t have answered the door for the CEO of High-Rise Consulting herself. But the moment my eyes closed, before I could even settle into the first phase of deep sleep, a distinct, insistent knocking had dragged me back from the edge of unconsciousness. Knock, knock, knock… “Housekeeping. Do you need the room serviced?” A young male voice came through the thick door. My eyelids felt weighted with lead, and my brain was stuffed with wet cotton. I didn’t even have the energy to open my mouth. I buried my head into the pillow and covered my ears with the duvet, praying he would take the hint and leave. KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!! Instead of retreating, the knocking grew more rapid, more impatient. “Sir, please open the door! Housekeeping!” The shout outside the door was louder now, carrying a distinct tone of annoyance and urgency. My precious sleep was thoroughly shattered, and a wave of pure irritation washed over me. I struggled to prop up my heavy body, my throat dry and scratchy. “The sign is out! I don’t need anything! Thank you!” Silence for a few seconds. Just when I thought I was finally in the clear, the voice came back, laced with suspicion: “The sign is out? Are you… are you sure you’re okay in there?” “It’s the middle of the day. We have specific cleaning times. You’re messing up our schedule, and what about the other guests? We are busy, too!” I took a deep breath, trying to stifle the rising blaze of anger. “I paid for the room. All I want is to sleep. Rules aren’t always fixed, are they? I said no. Please, just stop knocking.” “Sleeping? In the middle of the day…” I heard the voice mutter, clearly disbelieving, before raising the volume again, utterly relentless: “Fine, you want to sleep, but you have to be reasonable about our jobs, right? We have protocol. Your lack of cooperation makes things difficult! And frankly, with the door shut like this, who knows what you’re… up to in there?” A burst of raw fury shot to my head, and I started trembling. I fought the urge to yank this unreasonable person through the door and rip into him. I gritted my teeth and forced out the words: “I am sleeping! What else would I be doing! Is this how your hotel treats guests? I swear I will complain!” The person outside seemed momentarily stunned, silent for a few seconds. Just as I thought he was giving up, I heard a very faint, resentful huff, followed by suppressed, but unmistakably clear, snippets of malicious, gossipy dialogue drifting in: “Seriously? What a psycho… why so aggressive…” Another male voice chimed in: “Right? That ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign is up like he’s trying to hide a crime…” “Sleeping with the covers over his head in the middle of the day? Ugh, who knows what shady business he’s running in there…” “I bet he’s working the clock…” “Exactly. Look at how tired he is. Must have been a good night’s hustle…” 2 My fury spiked, an electric shock. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Three days of blood, sweat, and tears on a project, and they turn it into some dirty hustle?! How dare they slander me like that? Just because I wanted to sleep behind a simple sign? I was so angry my vision blurred, but I was too drained to physically fight. All I could do was bite back the venomous words at my throat, clutch the covers, and play dead. After a long while, the footsteps finally seemed to fade. Silence. I collapsed back onto the bed, utterly drained. My heart was still slamming against my ribs from the confrontation. My head was splitting. I closed my eyes and focused on steadying my breath, the lure of sleep finally returning. Then, a knocking, more violent and urgent than before, erupted again. BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! “Open the door! Routine safety equipment check, open up!” It was Devin’s voice again, but this time, the impatience and menace were unmistakable. “Argh!” I let out a low, frustrated growl, lunging upright in bed. My temples throbbed, and my heart raced even faster, jarred by the shock. “Stop knocking!” I screamed toward the door. “I said I’m resting! I don’t need any service! And I don’t need any damn check!” “Do your checks after I check out! Now leave immediately! Or I am filing a complaint right now!” Silence for two seconds. Just when I thought I’d finally broken through his thick skull, his voice returned: “It’s hotel policy! If there’s a safety incident because you wouldn’t cooperate, who takes responsibility? You can’t be this unreasonable—” “Shut up!” I completely snapped. The accumulated stress, anger, and injustice exploded out of me. “I am trying to sleep! Do you understand basic English?” “I am warning you for the last time. If you knock on this door one more time, I am calling the corporate line and getting you fired!” The door finally went quiet. I gasped for air, shaking slightly from the adrenaline of my own rage. Surely, that’s it. Exhausted, I slumped back onto the bed, my heart still thump-thump-thumping like it wanted to break free. My sleep was irrevocably fragmented. And then. Beep! Click-clack! A sharp electronic sound and the mechanical grinding of the lock being aggressively overridden rang out simultaneously. My heart seized up. Blood rushed to my head. BANG! The room door was shoved open with brute force. The massive impact made the door frame vibrate, but the door was caught instantly by the security chain I’d engaged the moment I entered. It only opened a gap of a few inches. “Tch!” A frustrated, irritated sound came from outside. A face appeared in the narrow gap—it was the same clerk, Devin. He strained to peer in, his face a mask of unconcealed annoyance and malice. His voice was sharp: “Oh! The security chain is on, is it? Who are you hiding from? Feeling a little guilty?” “Hiding in your room in the middle of the day? You must really be running some sleazy operation in there, huh?” “Or maybe you’re hiding contraband? Open the chain right now! We have to check!” The last thread of my sanity snapped. I launched myself off the bed, flying to the door. Through the narrow slit, I stared at that revolting face. “How dare you illegally override the lock on my room?!” “Who gave you the authority?! I am a guest here! I paid for this room; it is my private space! You are committing illegal entry! Do you understand the law?!” Devin was momentarily stunned by my roar. A flash of panic crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a deepening maliciousness. He was about to retort, but I didn’t give him the chance. My voice went shrill: “I have a congenital heart condition! Your constant banging and now your forced entry has scared my heart into a panic attack! It’s pounding out of my chest!” “If something happens to me right now, if I have a heart attack because you scared me to death! You will be a murderer! Are you prepared to face that kind of charge?!” I gasped for breath: “I was patient! I was willing to let it go, worker to worker! But you’ve pushed me too far! You think I’m an easy target?!” Our furious argument was painfully loud in the quiet corridor. The door of the room next to mine opened. So did the door across the hall. Several guests in pajamas or casual clothes poked their heads out, looking on with a mix of curiosity and eager anticipation. The moment Devin saw the audience, his expression transformed. The aggressive bully vanished. He instantly backed away, his eyes turning red, his shoulders starting to tremble. His voice broke into a heavy sob: “Everyone, please judge! I was just following hotel policy to check the safety equipment, for everyone’s safety…” “And this guest… he… he wouldn’t cooperate, and then he started screaming at me… calling me an intruder, threatening to file a complaint… telling me to get lost…” “We’re just working people! Why is it so hard to do our jobs… Just because we work in service, does that mean we deserve to be looked down on and bullied by guests?” 3 He sobbed dramatically, using the back of his hand to wipe away tears that weren’t quite there. His complete reversal and tearful, twisted version of events instantly won the sympathy of the uninformed onlookers. A middle-aged woman in a robe frowned and spoke up: “Listen, sir, you need to calm down. The young man is just doing his job. It’s not easy…” “Exactly. A quick check is for your own good. Why scream and swear at him?” another man chimed in. “People these days, they complain about everything. Bullying the workers…” someone else muttered under their breath. The baseless accusations pierced me like needles. I was shaking with anger. I locked eyes with Devin, who was still dabbing at his tear ducts, playing the picture of pathetic vulnerability. I snatched the security chain off the latch and stepped out into the hallway, my gaze sweeping over the handful of guests who had sided with him. “You all are quick to jump in, aren’t you?” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word was razor-sharp, squeezed out through clenched teeth: “Fine, then you listen up!” “I have a severe congenital heart condition!” I pointed to my chest, speaking slowly and deliberately. “And right now, this employee, who illegally entered my room and slandered me, has infuriated me to the point that my heart is extremelydistressed! If, in the next second, I collapse here from an emotional heart attack! You…” My finger stabbed towards the guests who’d spoken up, “Your words just now made you accessories! You were the trigger! I will not let a single one of you off the hook. I will instruct my lawyer to sue all of you! I will sue you until you lose everything! Go ahead, keep taking his side!” The hallway fell into immediate, stunned silence. A threat is abstract until it hits close to home. The faces of the righteous, judgmental onlookers instantly shifted. They exchanged panicked, worried glances. The woman in the robe forced an awkward laugh and quickly waved her hands. “Oh, hey, young man, please don’t get upset. I was just speaking casually, no offense intended.” “Yeah, yeah, this has nothing to do with us,” the others quickly echoed, desperate to distance themselves from the potential legal nightmare. Seeing his reinforcements retreat, the tears on Devin’s face evaporated instantly, as if a switch had been flicked off. He quickly wiped his face, his pitiful expression gone. He shot me a venomous glare, let out a cold huff through his nose, and marched away. Watching his back disappear around the corner, and confirming the nosy guests had closed their doors, the extreme tension in my body suddenly released. Back inside the room, I slid down the door panel to the floor, completely drained. My heart was still hammering, and my back was drenched in cold sweat. Finally… quiet? I struggled to my feet, stumbling back towards the bed, plunging my face deep into the pillow. Just as my frayed nerves began to relax and sleep threatened to return. Beep! Click-clack! The sharp sound of breaking metal and the mechanical ‘beep-clack’ of the lock being forced open erupted simultaneously. I shot my head up, eyes wide. The next second, the room door was violently thrust inward. The thin security chain had been clipped clean through by a pair of massive metal pliers. That persistent little ghost of a clerk was back. He charged to the bedside in a few steps and ripped the blanket right off me. All pretense was gone from his face, replaced by a vicious malice and the satisfaction of a job well done. He raised his hand. SLAP! An incredibly loud, crisp slap landed squarely on my face. “You won’t cooperate, huh?! Was opening the damn door really that difficult?!” 4 My cheek was stinging, hot and throbbing. My ears were ringing. I clutched my face, staring in disbelief at Devin standing over the bed. “You! You assaulted me?! Security! I’m calling the police! I’m calling the police right now!” I tried to lunge at him, but the combination of sleeplessness, shock, and anger left my body feeling like lead. My vision swam. Devin deftly stepped back, the smirk instantly wiped away, replaced by a look of manufactured terror. His voice went shrill and frantic as he yelled toward the door: “Security! Help! The guest is attacking me! Help!” Almost the moment his cry ended, two burly men in security uniforms, Ray and Vic, materialized and blocked the doorway. They were clearly waiting. One of them even had a smartphone out, its camera light glaring, aimed coldly at the interior of the room. One of the guards, Ray, frowned and spoke sternly: “Sir! Calm down! Don’t get physical! We received a report that you are highly agitated and showing violent tendencies!” “Violent tendencies?!” I felt like I was going to throw up blood. I pointed to the rapidly swelling side of my face. “Look closely! He broke into my room! He cut the security chain! He hit me! HE did this!” Devin immediately cowered behind the security guards, sobbing melodramatically: “I… I didn’t… I just saw he wouldn’t open the door and I was afraid he was in trouble, so I followed protocol and forced entry to check on him… I gently woke him, and he suddenly went crazy and tried to hit me… I was terrified…” “You’re lying!” I roared. “You are twisting the facts! Is this how your hotel allows employees to commit assault?! I demand to see your manager, now! Immediately!” “See the manager? Fine!” Devin suddenly peered out from behind the guard. There was not a trace of a tear, only a cruel, vicious look in his eye. He gave a malicious little smile. “But before you see the manager, we need to ensure your safety. Didn’t you just say you have a heart condition? And that you were about to die of fright?” “Well, The Prescott Hotel takes the life safety of its guests very seriously!” He suddenly raised his voice, ordering the security guards: “Ray, Vic, this gentleman claims he is having a heart attack and his condition is critical! Notify the emergency services immediately and secure the scene!” “What?!” I was completely blindsided. The two guards exchanged a hesitant look, but they seemed more inclined to follow the instruction. One of them immediately pulled out a walkie-talkie: “Front Desk to command! Emergency situation! Room 816 guest suffering sudden cardiac arrest! Requesting EMS!” The other guard, Vic, stepped forward, his eyes sharp, his phone still aimed at me. “You… you…” A chilling sense of cold horror washed over me. They were painting me as a lunatic, a liar, a disruptive guest trying to extort the hotel. The sheer absurdity of the situation, coupled with the ice-cold fear, gripped me. I had just wanted a few hours of sleep after an all-nighter, and I had been systematically forced into this nightmare scenario. My cheek was burning, and my heart, genuinely, was starting to beat erratically due to the confluence of rage and terror.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389770”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“Mom, take me to the hospital, I’m sick!” My son, Leo, threw himself at my feet, his little fists hammering my thigh. “My stomach hurts, my head hurts, everything hurts!” Seeing my young son standing there, tangible and alive, I finally believed it. I was reborn. The rage from my past life hadn’t dissipated. The thought of the son I raised with such care faking an illness to help Bella scam me out of money—money she used to study abroad while I rotted—made me sick. He had even called her “Mom” with such affection. I had been a good mother. In my last life, when he cried about pain, I swallowed my pride and begged the base driver to rush us to the hospital. While I was terrified for his health, he and his father were plotting how to deceive me. Right, my husband, the decorated officer, Ethan Stone. Father and son, cut from the same cloth. Neither could take their eyes off Bella. Since fate has given me a second chance, I will never let them hurt me again. 1 My son’s fists rained down on me. “Bad mommy! I want to go to the hospital!” “Okay,” I replied indifferently. I turned around, walked into the bedroom, and lay down. Leo was stunned. He gritted his teeth, threw himself on the floor, and started wailing. But I remained unmoved. “You’re a bad woman!” He screamed and ran out the door, straight to the group of neighborhood women gossiping in the courtyard. “Mommy won’t take me to the hospital…” He looked at me with tearful eyes, but there was a cunning glint in them. “I hurt all over. It feels so bad.” The women’s faces instantly darkened. “Mrs. Stone, are you human?” They were indignant. “The child is sick and you won’t take him to the doctor? What kind of mother are you?!” seeing me walk out, Leo scrambled over. “Mommy, I won’t be naughty anymore,” he acted pitifully. “Please take me to the hospital.” “Sure.” I smiled faintly, grabbed him by the collar, and tossed him into the abandoned chicken coop next to the house. “MOM!” Leo was stunned, crying in terror inside the coop. The onlookers were even more shocked. “Leo’s mom, what are you doing?” I clapped my hands clean. “This is an old remedy from my hometown. If a kid is acting up and feeling ‘unwell,’ living in a chicken coop for two days cures everything. No need for a hospital.” The women stared, wide-eyed. “How is that possible?” “Sarah! Have you lost your mind?!” A furious roar came from behind me. I shuddered. “It’s not enough that you’re ignorant? Do you want to kill our son with your stupidity?” My husband, Ethan, looked like he wanted to strangle me. “I never should have brought you from the village to the base!” “Calm down, don’t blame Sarah.” Bella, dressed in a fashionable Western dress, gently smoothed Ethan’s furrowed brow. “She’s from the countryside, she doesn’t know any better. It’s not her fault, as long as she learns.” She leaned affectionately on Ethan’s shoulder, looking down at me with condescension. No one thought their intimacy was inappropriate. As if Bella was the real mistress of this house. Him and her. One stole my future, the other left me disabled for life. I’ll settle this debt slowly. Ethan tore open the coop and dragged Leo out. “I’m taking him to the hospital now,” he said coldly. “If anything is wrong with him, it’s on you.” We arrived at the county hospital in ten minutes. Bella handed me a report that read “Confirmed: Leukemia.” “I never thought Leo would have such bad luck.” Her eyes were red. “Leukemia is aggressive. The doctor says we need at least ten thousand dollars for treatment.” Bella looked up, her eyes probing cautiously. “Sarah, you’re his biological mother. You’ll definitely raise the money, right?” It was the same in my last life. Bella handed me the diagnosis. I was stunned by the word “Leukemia.” I didn’t have time to doubt it. I ran myself ragged raising money. In the 80s, jobs were scarce. I worked without sleep. When that wasn’t enough, I knelt and begged door to door, enduring humiliation. But I never imagined. Every cent I scraped together went into Bella’s pocket, funding her lavish life abroad. In this life, she won’t suck my blood again! “What are you standing there for?” Ethan glared at me. “Our son is sick! Go get the money!” “Oh, right,” he added. “You can give your study abroad slot to Bella. Stay home and take care of Leo.” Giving away my future to another woman. He didn’t hesitate. “This hospital is unreliable.” I hugged Leo tight. “Let’s go to another one. Just to be safe.” Their faces froze. Bella tried to stop me. “Let’s not waste time, just do it here—” “I’m his mother. I decide.” I dragged Leo to the new hospital across town. Three hours later, I had the physical exam report. “Look. The other hospital misdiagnosed him.” I smiled. “All indicators are normal. No leukemia.” Seeing the report, Bella looked like she’d swallowed a fly. Leo, who had been whining about pain, went silent. “I suspect he’s just bored at home.” I beamed. “The sports academy is recruiting. Let’s send him there to toughen up. Support the national fitness initiative.” The sports academy was a boarding school. Home visits every two weeks. Conditions were harsh. Since this kid didn’t want a good home and wanted to be an ingrate, I’d send him to enjoy some collective discipline. “I don’t want to go—” Leo panicked. “Mommy Bella save me! I don’t want to go to the sports academy!” Bella’s face turned pale. “Leo, you misspoke. I’m not your mommy, I’m your auntie.” Her eyes darted around. “Don’t say that again.” “But Daddy said…” “Shut up!” Bella fled. Ethan glared at me viciously before chasing after her. My smile turned cold. No wonder Leo accepted Bella so easily. Ethan had been teaching him to call her “Mom” behind my back. I left Leo in the pediatric ward and went to pay the bill. I accidentally saw Bella crying in a corner. “Will I never get to go abroad?” Her eyes were swollen. “But it’s my dream. My grandmother always told me stories about studying overseas. I want it so much.” “Why can’t Sarah just play dumb and help me with the money and the slot? I’d be grateful…” Ethan held her, eyes full of heartache. “I’ll figure out the money and the slot. Don’t worry.” Bella smiled through her tears and kissed Ethan on the cheek. I had no interest in watching further. I paid the bill and left with Leo. I sent Leo to the sports academy. No matter how much he cried and kicked, I didn’t soften. Without a child to care for, I had ample time to study English and prepare for my departure. After a few peaceful days, Ethan suddenly came home. Since Bella arrived at the base, he spent eight out of ten nights at her singles’ dorm. He rarely came home. In my past life, I fought about it. But his excuse—”I’m just used to looking out for Comrade Bella”—shut me down. I ignored Ethan and continued reading. Suddenly, his warm body pressed against mine, smelling of laundry soap. His hands gripped my shoulders. “It’s late. Let’s sleep.” As if that wasn’t enough, he scooped me up in his strong arms. “It’s been a while since we were intimate.” He looked at me with deep eyes. “Let’s try tonight.” Ethan blatantly placed the contraceptives he got from the clinic in front of me. To be fair, his daily training made his body hard as iron. His stamina was incredible. Any woman would fall for him. In my past life, I would have shyly agreed, secretly anticipating it. But now, I only felt repulsion. “No need.” I lowered my eyes. “If you have needs, go find Bella.” “Don’t talk nonsense!” Ethan frowned. “She and I are innocent. Intimacy is only for you.” I laughed bitterly, shook him off, went into the guest room, and locked the door. Ethan was gone the next morning. I went out as usual to process my paperwork. “Leo’s mom!” The clinic auntie stopped me, looking curious. “Your husband treats you so well. He went specifically to buy pills for… you know. Everyone envies your luck.” I looked at her blankly. “What are you waiting for? Go see!” She dragged me to the clinic. I was about to leave when I heard Ethan’s hushed voice. “As long as the pills work. If she gets pregnant, she can’t go abroad with a belly.” “But you already have Leo. Policy doesn’t allow a second child.” “I never intended for her to give birth.” Ethan’s words chilled me to the bone. So the sudden intimacy was a trap. To get me pregnant so the study abroad office would reject me. As for the child, it wouldn’t even survive. The baby and I were just stepping stones for Bella. I retched. Right. In my last life, he disfigured and disabled me. In this life, merely getting me pregnant and forcing an abortion was him being “merciful.” I held back my tears and ran to the Commander’s office. “Commander, I want to file for divorce!” “Why so sudden?” The Commander was surprised. “If it’s about Bella, Ethan already spoke to me. He’s just looking out for a teammate. Don’t overthink it.” I shook my head. “It’s not about him. I plan to dedicate myself to the development of the Northwest frontier immediately after I return from my studies.” Building the Northwest meant spending years, maybe decades, in secret facilities. It often meant sacrificing family. “Sacrificing the small family for the greater good.” The Commander sighed. “I admire your dedication. But does Ethan agree?” “I don’t need his opinion. I insist on divorce.” The Commander looked at me deeply. “Alright. The organization can approve a special divorce without Ethan’s consent. Comrade Sarah, you may dedicate your life to your cause.” Leaving the office, I received more good news. The study abroad office moved the training schedule up. The departure date, originally next month, was now tomorrow. I rushed home to pack. “You’re really leaving—” Seeing me packing, Ethan’s face turned livid. He pulled a packet of pills from his pocket. “I bought these for you. Take them.” He probably didn’t expect the date to change either. Tonight was his last chance to trap me. I didn’t even look. I threw the pills in the trash. “Are you determined to go?” he asked. “Yes.” “Enough!” Ethan glared at me. “Bella is clearly more suited for this opportunity. Why do you insist on hoarding it?!” “Or are you just jealous of her education and want to bully her?” I laughed in anger. “I earned this spot with my exam scores. I didn’t steal it. Why should I give it to her?” “But you shouldn’t—” Ethan stopped, unable to find a rebuttal. He didn’t speak to me again until the next day. I happily dragged my luggage to wait for the bus. It was rare for someone from the base to go abroad. Neighbors gathered to watch. Just as the bus arrived and I was about to board, Ethan appeared and grabbed me. “Don’t go. Mom and Dad are critically ill.” His attitude was cold. “You need to go back to the village and care for them immediately.” Bella walked over with an identical suitcase, smiling. “Ethan is right. Filial piety comes first. Sarah, you should go back.” “As for studying abroad, I’ll go in your place.” I was stunned. Watching Bella move to take my place, I tried to rush forward, but the neighbors blocked me. “Sarah, there will be other chances to study. But if your in-laws die because of you, can you live with that?” “We thought you were a good wife. Turns out you’re selfish. Ethan was blind to marry you.” Ethan watched with satisfaction as I was besieged. He snatched my bag, took out my admission documents, and handed them to Bella. “Give it back!” I screamed desperately. But no matter how I struggled, the crowd held me tight.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389786”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I thought Julian Sterling was faking bankruptcy and a disability just to force me to break off our engagement. So, I kicked his wheelchair over and demanded money from him. He kept up the act until he couldn’t anymore. After Julian made his comeback, he accepted an interview. The reporter asked, “It was said that your legs had almost zero chance of recovery. How did you manage to stand again?” Julian’s voice trembled with emotion. “Because of my fiancée.” The reporter sighed, touched. “Your wife stayed by your side during your lowest moments. That’s true love.” Julian gritted his teeth. “No. She thought I was faking it and forced me to stand up!” 1 Unlike the “old money” debutantes of Manhattan, my family is new money. We struck it rich overnight. Even though we have cash, I never fit in with the Upper East Side princesses. Growing up, they excluded me, overtly and covertly. They didn’t welcome me, and honestly, I didn’t care for them either. But I always held a grudge. It wasn’t until I got engaged to Julian Sterling that my status in the socialite circle truly changed. The Sterling family is old money. True aristocracy. Not just rich—wealthy. As the heir to the Sterling empire, Julian showed terrifying business acumen and IQ from a young age. While his peers were partying in college, he had already founded his own company. Most importantly, being engaged to Julian brought me a lot of perks. The compliments from the circle, the way those mean girls hated me but had to suck up to me—it was satisfying. Of course, some couldn’t hold back their whispers. “What is she so smug about? Julian doesn’t actually like her. It’s just for his grandfather. Chloe is the one he truly loves.” “Whether he actually marries her in the end is still up in the air.” I sipped my tea calmly. So what if he has a “white moonlight”—a first love he can’t forget? Julian is only going to marry me. 2 I enjoyed everything Julian brought me until news broke that Sterling Corp had gone bankrupt and Julian was paralyzed. Some people kicked him while he was down. Others watched silently. But for the trust fund babies who only knew how to party, it was just a show. Tiffany, who had always been my nemesis, insinuated loudly at a brunch, “The Sterling family has stood for a hundred years. How come they go bankrupt as soon as they get engaged to her? Maybe she’s a jinx.” Her little minion giggled. “Maybe it’s fake. Just a ploy to get rid of her.” “I heard Chloe is coming back from Paris.” Their theories were ridiculous, but I believed them 100%. I hadn’t heard a whisper of trouble before this. Suddenly bankrupt? It was obviously a trap. Want to get rid of me? Ha. I’m going to cling to him like a ghost. 3 I skipped dinner and rushed straight to the Sterling estate. From a distance, I could hear the voices of the usual trust fund jerks, arrogant as ever. “Julian, you still think you’re the high-and-mighty heir? You’re a cripple now. If I told you to bark like a dog, I’d be doing you a favor. Don’t be ungrateful.” “Didn’t you love telling us to get lost? Now look who’s lost.” “Bro, he’s a cripple. He couldn’t get lost if he wanted to. Useless trash.” They laughed in a pack. The subject of their ridicule sat expressionless in a wheelchair, his eyes indifferent, as if they weren’t talking about him. I curled my lip in a sneer. What a coincidence. I show up just in time to see him being bullied. Does Julian think I’m stupid? It’s too scripted. Bravo. To break off the engagement, he staged a whole play. Even pretending to be disabled. It would be a waste if I didn’t play along. My heels clicked on the pavement. The group turned at the sound. Liam, the leader of the pack, whistled maliciously. “Yo, look who it is. Miss Harper. Here to return the ring?” I glanced at him coldly. “Get lost.” He exploded instantly. “Everyone knows your family is just nouveau riche trash. What are you proud of? New money and a cripple—a match made in heaven.” Slap. I slapped him across the face, shaking my stinging hand. “Did you learn to shut up now?” “You bitch!” Having been bullied by those mean girls for years, I took self-defense classes. I couldn’t beat a pro, but I could handle these hollowed-out party boys. I kicked Liam in the knee. He dropped to the ground. I threatened coldly, “Apologize to Julian.” “Don’t be stubborn. Your father still has a deal with my family.” He gritted his teeth, unwilling. “You’re only in it for the money anyway. Now that he’s a cripple, why would you marry him?” So that was it. They were trying to force me to break the engagement. After all this setup, the motive finally came out. I lowered my eyes to hide my emotions. “None of your business. I don’t love his money. I love him.” “No matter what happens, I won’t abandon him. I’ve decided he’s the one I’m spending my life with.” Liam reluctantly apologized to Julian. “Julian… sorry.” Behind me, where I couldn’t see, Julian’s eyelashes trembled violently. His hands gripped his thighs, clenching the fabric of his pants tight, then releasing. 4 “You don’t have to go this far. We haven’t even met that many times. They’re right. I’m a useless person now.” “The engagement…” Before he could finish, I covered his mouth. “I said I’ve chosen you. It’s just a small setback. We’ll get through it.” I looked at his legs. “What did the doctor say? Can they heal?” Changing the subject, Julian’s gaze fell on his legs, a shadow passing through his eyes. He pursed his lips. “The doctor said there’s a 10% chance I’ll stand again.” I played along, holding his hand. “Even if it’s 10%, we can’t give up. I’ll stay with you. I believe you’ll stand again.” I’m not breaking the engagement. I’m going to haunt you. He looked at me deeply, as if finally making a decision. “Okay.” In the rehab center, he stood up and fell down over and over again. Hands on the ground, the frustration in his eyes was thick enough to drown in. Sweat dripped from his forehead. He bit his lip until it bled. It was pathetic and messy. From the sidelines, I watched coldly. It must be hard for a healthy person to act disabled. Great acting. Very convincing. To play along with his “bankruptcy,” I convinced him to move into my apartment. “It’s easier for me to take care of you.” Julian’s voice was hoarse. The emotions in his eyes were turbulent, but I couldn’t read them. To fast-track our “bonding,” since he was playing the cripple, I treated him like one. I cooked for him, went to rehab with him, and played the supportive partner when he was down. I defended him against anyone who looked at him wrong. As time went on, it seemed to work. Julian visibly began to trust me. One day at home, he tried to stand but fell. He looked devastated and punched his own leg hard. I walked over, held his hand down, and spoke gently. “Take your time. Don’t rush.” He calmed down slowly and leaned his head on my shoulder. “I promise I’ll give you a good life.” That was the best line I’d heard in a while. Seeing him like this, the farce should be ending soon, right? 5 Monday. Julian went for a checkup. I didn’t want to watch his performance, so I made an excuse and had the driver take him. Lying in bed scrolling on my phone, I saw the messages in the group chat. The mean girls were at it again. “I told you Julian loves Chloe. As soon as she came back, he went running to her.” “The bankruptcy is probably fake. The disability is even more impossible. He looked fine to me.” “He really went to great lengths to get someone to break off the engagement.” So Julian wasn’t seeing a doctor. He was seeing Chloe. I stared at the messages coldly. In our circles, who doesn’t have a “white moonlight”? It’s normal. And I don’t even like Julian. I’m just in it for the status and power. As long as he doesn’t bring it up, I can pretend it didn’t happen. I sat in the living room waiting for Julian. From noon until sunset, until the last ray of light vanished from the horizon. Julian finally came back. He turned on the lights and saw me on the sofa, concern filling his face. “What happened? Why didn’t you turn on the lights?” I rubbed my temples, exhausted. “Nothing happened. I just didn’t want to.” Silence fell. Julian sat in his wheelchair, looking like he wanted to say something. I asked first. “Do you have something to say?” His gaze was restrained, as if making a difficult choice. “I’m a cripple now. I can’t give you anything. It’s better for you if we break the engagement.” Better for me? Even breaking up is “for my own good”? What a saint. He’s just a shameless scumbag. I’m not a pushover. Since he won’t take the easy way, he can eat dirt. He forced my hand. Under Julian’s nervous gaze, I stared at him coldly. “To marry your first love, you faked a disability and bankruptcy.” “You want to dump me to run off with Chloe? Dream on! Where’s your money? Give it to me!” “You’ve been living off me these past few days. You owe me double!” Julian looked blank, sitting helplessly in his wheelchair. “What first love? I don’t have one. And the bankruptcy isn’t fake, it’s real…” Still acting. I lost my patience completely. “I don’t care if it’s real or fake. If I don’t see five million dollars by tomorrow, you’re dead.” He grabbed my hand, begging. “Can you give me a week?” Fake. I knew it. I shook off his hand. “Fine.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389803”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the spa for my year-end appointment, I discovered my VIP account had been used by a stranger. I logged into my personal profile. The last three treatments on record weren’t mine. The preferences section was filled with meticulous detail: an allergy to rose oil, a preference for lavender, a note that the hot stones must not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. It even noted a menstrual cycle around the fifteenth of each month, a time to avoid any abdominal treatments. I stared at the screen, my palms growing cold and damp. The only person who knew the password was my husband, Sebastian. He’d said he needed it occasionally to check the balance and top up the account for me. My finger scrolled down, and a system note caught my eye: “Birthday treatment reserved for Dec 30th. Prepare according to Ms. Kingsley’s preferences.” Today was December 30th. My phone buzzed. A text from Sebastian: “Working late tonight. Won’t be home.” A familiar laugh echoed from the hallway. Through the glass door, I saw Sebastian with his arm around a woman, leading her into the room next door. A therapist greeted them at the door. “Mr. Kenin, Ms. Kingsley’s birthday treatment is ready, just as you requested.” Wait, the name Kenin is forbidden. Let’s choose another one. How about “Mr. Davenport”? “Mr. Davenport, Ms. Kingsley’s birthday treatment is ready, just as you requested.” 1 The smile on Sebastian’s face froze. His arm, wrapped around the woman, fell stiffly to his side. He strode towards me, his brow furrowed as if I were the one who had done something wrong. “Rory, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you answer my text?” I recognized the woman behind him, the one he called Ms. Kingsley. It was Penelope, the daughter of his late mentor, a name he mentioned often. She wore a simple white dress, her long hair falling over her shoulders. Her face was pale, giving her a fragile, pitiable look. I didn’t answer Sebastian’s question. I just let my gaze drift from the screen—the screen that detailed another woman’s every preference—to his face. My voice was calm, betraying none of the storm raging inside me. “Aren’t you supposed to be working late?” Sebastian took a deep breath, visibly trying to suppress a wave of emotion. He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he stepped forward to take my hand, but I instinctively pulled away. His hand hovered awkwardly in the air, his expression darkening. “Let’s talk about this at home, okay? There are too many people here.” Penelope, the woman behind him, crept forward, her eyes already red-rimmed. “Sebastian, this is all my fault. Have I caused a misunderstanding with Aurora? I’ll explain everything. I begged Sebastian to let me use the card. My health is poor, and the doctor said I need regular physical therapy, but I just don’t have the money…” As she spoke, tears began to stream down her cheeks. “Aurora, please, don’t blame Sebastian. He was just taking pity on me. The birthday treatment was meant to be a surprise. He said I’d never had a proper birthday growing up. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know this account was so important to you. I’ll never use it again!” It was a masterful performance, twisting the truth until it was unrecognizable. She painted herself as an innocent, casting Sebastian as a benevolent saint and me as the petty, overreacting wife. Sebastian immediately rushed to her defense, his voice laced with a sharp reprimand aimed at me. “Rory! Stop it. Penelope’s health is fragile. You’re scaring her.” When he turned back to Penelope, his voice softened, becoming gentle enough to soothe a frightened bird. “It’s okay, Penny. Don’t cry. It’s not your fault. It was my mistake; I should have told Rory beforehand. You go on in for your treatment before you catch a chill.” He even took off his tailored suit jacket and draped it solicitously over Penelope’s thin shoulders. In that moment, a chilling cold seeped into my bones. It was late December in Bayside. The temperature outside was near freezing. I was slightly swollen from my pregnancy and could only fit into a pair of thin flats, leaving my ankles exposed to the biting wind. And yet, the only person he saw, the only one he worried might get cold, was another woman. I watched their effortless intimacy, a scene that made me feel like an intruder in my own life. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an icy fist, and every breath was a sharp, stabbing pain, like inhaling shattered glass. “Sebastian.” My voice trembled, a mixture of cold and rage. “Why did you give Penelope my card?” He paused, then his brow furrowed in annoyance. “What’s the big deal? I told you, she’s my mentor’s daughter. I thought if I shared the card with her, it might help you two get along. I was doing it for your sake.” 2 “For my sake?” A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. “Doing it for my sake was using my money to arrange this… this bespoke, meticulously planned service for her?” My accusation struck a nerve. The color rose in his cheeks, and his tone turned cold. “Aurora, must you be so unreasonable? Penelope’s father was my mentor; he gave me my first big break. On his deathbed, he asked me to look after her. What was I supposed to do? She’s an orphan, all alone in the world, with fragile health. What’s wrong with me helping her out a little? It’s just a few thousand dollars for some spa treatments. That’s nothing to us. Can’t you be a little more generous?” “Generous?” I repeated the word, the irony of it a bitter taste in my mouth. He always had an excuse. Penelope was his mentor’s daughter, so she needed his care. Penelope’s health was poor, so she needed his concern. Penelope was a lonely orphan, so he had to give her the warmth of a family. And what about me? What about the child I was carrying in my womb? His child. What did that make me? In the end, I was the one who backed down. I refused to make a scene in public, to devolve into a screaming shrew. That would only make me look more pathetic. Sebastian drove me home. The silence in the car was heavy, suffocating. He must have realized he’d gone too far, because he softened his tone and tried to placate me. “Alright, Rory, don’t be angry. I was wrong. I should have told you first. I promise, it won’t happen again. I’ll go change the password on the account tomorrow. From now on, it’s just for you, okay?” He pulled up to our building and turned to me, taking my hand. His palm was warm and dry, radiating the same sense of security it always had. “And with Penelope… I’ll be more careful about boundaries. But she’s my mentor’s only child. I can’t just abandon her.” “Just… think of it as charity. Don’t hold it against her, alright? She’s not like you. You grew up cherished by your parents, and now you have me. She has nothing.” It was the same speech I had heard a thousand times before. I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t feel well. I want to go up and rest.” Seeing that I had dropped the subject, he visibly relaxed, a smile returning to his face. “That’s my girl. A pregnant woman shouldn’t be stressed. It’s not good for the baby. Come on, I’ll carry you upstairs.” He was always so attentive, so caring. He would peel fruit for me, and when my morning sickness was at its worst, he would patiently rub my back until it subsided. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would have believed he loved me to his very core. And so, the incident was seemingly forgotten. True to his word, Sebastian changed the spa account password the next day and cancelled the secondary card, leaving only the primary one in my possession. He became even more gentle and attentive, catering to my every whim. My mother hired the best nutritionist, who prepared an endless variety of nourishing pregnancy broths for me. The first thing Sebastian did every day when he got home from work was sit with me until I finished my soup. “You’re working so hard, my love. For our baby. Just a little more.” He would carefully skim the fat off the top and feed it to me, one spoonful at a time. I was almost fooled by his performance. I almost convinced myself that what I saw at the spa was just a misunderstanding, a figment of my imagination. Until the day I found an identical thermos in the trunk of his car. It was empty, but the faint, lingering aroma of a specific herbal bone broth with turmeric and ginger still clung to the inside. It was the same broth I had had the day before. I remembered it clearly because I disliked the taste of turmeric and had only managed half a bowl. Sebastian, insisting that nothing should go to waste, had said he would finish the rest. But he hadn’t finished it. He had poured it into another thermos and given it to someone else. To Penelope, who also needed to keep her strength up. In that moment, my heart sank to the deepest, coldest depths of my soul. I didn’t say a word. I just silently placed the thermos back where I found it. A few days later, it was time for my prenatal check-up. Sebastian had long promised to come with me, but just as we were about to leave, he took a call, and his expression changed instantly. “What? A leak? Okay, drive safe on your way back. I’m on my way now!” He hung up and looked at me, his face a mask of apology. “Rory, I’m so sorry. A pipe burst in Penelope’s apartment. The place is completely flooded. She’s on her way back there now, I have to go check on things.” 3 “Can you ask my mom to go with you to the appointment? I’ll head to the hospital and meet you there as soon as I’m done.” Penelope again. Her emergencies always had such impeccable timing. I looked at his anxious face and asked quietly, “Is it that important? More important than our child?” He froze, as if he couldn’t believe I would ask such a thing. “Rory, how can you say that? They’re two completely different things! This is a safety issue, it could be dangerous! Your check-up is just a routine scan. My mom will be with you, you’ll be fine. Be a good girl and don’t overthink it.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll be back before you know it.” With that, he grabbed his car keys and left without a backward glance. The moment the door clicked shut, the living room was plunged into a dead silence. He’d said his mom would go with me. But his mother was currently enjoying a vacation at a resort in the Caribbean. Sebastian knew this better than anyone. Just two weeks ago, he had driven her to the airport himself, telling her to have fun and not to worry, because he would take good care of me. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pressure so intense I could barely breathe. I leaned against the wall, taking slow, deep breaths, telling myself not to get agitated. For the baby. It was fine. I could do this without him. I picked up my phone, intending to call my best friend, Sloane, and ask her to come with me. But then I remembered she had a crucial contract negotiation today. I didn’t want her to drop everything for me. I would go by myself. I got changed and made my way down to the underground garage. When I reached our usual parking spot, I stopped dead. The space was empty. My little white sedan, the car I had driven for three years, was gone. It was a twentieth birthday present from my father. He had said he hoped the road of my life would always be smooth and clear. That car had been with me through my college graduation and my marriage to Sebastian. It was one of my most treasured possessions. Sebastian had insisted that it was safer for me not to drive while pregnant, so I hadn’t even been down to the garage in nearly six months. A profound sense of unease washed over me. With a trembling hand, I dialed Sebastian’s number. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. The background was filled with the sound of rushing water and Penelope’s soft, delicate sobs. “Rory? What is it? Are you feeling unwell?” Sebastian’s voice was clipped, impatient. “I’m a little busy right now. The main water valve won’t shut off. The place is a disaster.” I forced myself to remain calm. “Sebastian,” I said, my voice dangerously even. “Where is my car?” There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. “Oh, the car,” he said, his tone casual. “Penelope’s place is pretty remote, and it’s hard to get a cab out there. I let her borrow it a while back. I forgot to tell you. Did you need it today? Just take an Uber to the hospital. It’s easy enough.” 4 “You gave her… my car?” My voice echoed in the cavernous, empty garage, laced with a despair I hadn’t realized was there. Every trinket hanging from the rearview mirror, I had chosen myself. No one had ever sat in the passenger seat except for my parents and Sebastian. And now, with a casual, offhand remark, he had given that private, precious piece of my life to another woman. “It’s just a car, isn’t it?” Sebastian’s patience had clearly run out. “Aurora, can you please not cause trouble for me right now? Penelope is dealing with a flood here! I have to go. Just take a cab, I’ll reimburse you for the bill.” Beep… beep… beep… He had hung up on me. I stood there, phone in hand, staring at the empty parking space, feeling like the world’s biggest fool. Reimburse me? Did he really think everything could be measured in dollars and cents? Did he think my dignity, my love, my very heart, had a price tag? In the end, I called a ride-share. Sitting in the back seat, I watched the city blur past my window. The winter sun was a pale, weak disc in the sky, offering no warmth at all. The driver was a chatty middle-aged man who, probably noticing my pale face, tried to lighten the mood. “Off to the maternity hospital for a check-up, ma’am? You’ve got that glow. I’m sure the baby is perfectly healthy.” I managed a weak smile but said nothing. We were stopped at a red light when my gaze drifted out the window and froze. In the lane next to us was a familiar white sedan, parked at a crooked angle. It was my car. And behind the wheel was Penelope. She was wearing a full face of makeup and a chic, cream-colored cashmere coat. She was looking in the rearview mirror, applying lipstick with a faint, triumphant smile on her face. The lipstick was a limited-edition shade I had just bought last week. I had left it in the car’s glove compartment, still unused. The light turned green. Penelope, clearly an inexperienced driver, slammed on the accelerator. The car shot forward, swerving dangerously and nearly sideswiping the car next to it, earning a chorus of angry honks. She seemed to panic, jerking the steering wheel back and forth. “What is this woman doing? She’s a menace,” my driver muttered under his breath. My heart leaped into my throat. I watched in horror as my car careened through the traffic. It scraped against the back of a city bus, then swerved sharply to the right, heading straight for us. It all happened in a flash. I heard my driver’s terrified scream, followed by the gut-wrenching crunch of metal on metal. The violent impact threw me forward. My abdomen slammed into the back of the front seat. A searing, tearing pain exploded from my core, radiating through every inch of my body. The world spun, and everything went black. In the last second before darkness took me, I felt a warm gush between my legs. The vibrant red bloomed across my white dress, a fatal flower.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389821”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was the night before my wedding when I learned my high-profile fiancé had a child with another woman. Ryan was at the mahogany table, calmly sorting through the heavy-stock guest list. He didn’t even look up as he delivered the words that shattered my reality: “It’s history, Anna. A loose end from my time in the field. The child was born, and I’m responsible. The woman is simple and has nowhere to go. It’s cleaner to keep them at the estate.” I froze, every muscle locking up. It took a long, hollow moment for the air to return to my lungs. “So the last three years… what does that make us?” “It means I owe you an apology.” He struck a match against the box, the quick, blinding flash illuminating the cold, chiseled planes of his face. “The choice is yours. We can still walk away.” My hand instinctively moved, pressing a protective flat against my lower abdomen. A secret lay buried there—one I’d planned to tell him today, to complete our future. The sudden, utterly unheralded truth slammed into me, a heavy, brutal blow that left my chest aching. “An accident from the border, before I met you,” his voice was still low, devoid of any genuine distress. “The woman, Zahra, she’s not ambitious, and she stays put. Keeps the boy quiet. It’s convenient.” I turned, needing to see him clearly. He stood in the soft lamplight, his custom-tailored dark suit perfectly outlining the shape I had loved for three years. But the layer of frost across his brow was new. It chilled me to the bone. “So all those times over the last three years, when you said you were ‘handling business’…” “I was seeing them.” The admission was quick, devoid of remorse. “A Kincaid heir can’t be left adrift. Zahra handles Leo well enough. The boy is quiet.” Well enough. Quiet. Each word was a shard of glass, embedding itself deep in my eardrum. Three years. Through countless days and nights. He’d had a thousand opportunities to end it with them, or to end it with me. Instead, he’d chosen the comfortable middle path, standing at the center of the scales, meticulously balancing two separate lives. A faint, deep spasm tightened in my stomach. I clutched at the spot. Ryan’s eyes dropped to my hand, his brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t look well.” He took a step toward me, his hand reaching for my forehead. I jerked back violently, my spine hitting the cold ceramic tile of the fireplace. The sudden chill pierced through my silk dress. “Don’t touch me.” His hand hung suspended in the air. His encrypted satellite phone buzzed then, a low, urgent vibration. He glanced at the screen and swiped it silent. It buzzed again. He silenced it again. On the third buzz, he swore under his breath and finally answered. A woman’s voice, thick with a foreign accent and laced with sobs, crackled through the phone. “Ryan… Leo has a fever… He keeps calling for his father… Please, could you come?” Ryan rubbed the bridge of his nose, the weariness suddenly obvious. “It’s fine. I’ll send the doctor immediately.” He ended the call and turned back to me, softening his tone. “She’s high-strung. The boy is delicate. It’s constant drama.” I didn’t speak, I just stared. This scenario had played out countless times over the past three years. His phone always buzzing. Me always the dutiful, understanding fiancée, saying, “You go handle it.” It turned out those hurried exits, those missed holidays, those silent, late-night departures, had sometimes been for them. A mother. A son. I laughed, a ragged, ugly sound, and the tears finally began to stream down my face. “Take me to them.” He was silent for a long time. My own phone vibrated then. The voice, loud and cheerful, filled the dead silence of the room. “Anna! Your father’s sent the invites out! Everyone says Ryan is a solid man, says you picked a winner!” The joyful sound stabbed at my nerve endings. I choked back a sob. “Dad, I have to go! I’ll call you later!” I disconnected the call. Ryan’s voice, now cruelly calm, cut through the tension. “The invites are out, the hotel is booked, the photos are taken,” he said. He paused, letting the weight of the words settle. “I gave you the ceremony you wanted.” I looked up at him. “What are you saying? You think that gives you the right to try and blackmail me? To make me a silent partner in your three-person wedding?” “I’m not blackmailing you.” He walked to the window, turning his back. “I told you, you can walk away.” “But you need to think clearly. Are three years of history, the future we planned, and the expectations of your father and friends… worth sacrificing, just because of a mother and a son?” A mother and a son… I nearly broke, the sound a mix of a laugh and a scream. “They are flesh and blood, Ryan. Your son. The woman who birthed him! They are not assets you can simply manage away!” He turned back, his expression blank. As if I were obsessing over a meaningless detail. “So what do you want?” he demanded. “You want me to ship them out right now? Send them somewhere you’ll never have to see them again?” I swallowed, the breath catching in my throat. My heart pounded painfully against my ribs. His tone, unbelievably, was that of a man offering a concession. “My loyalty is to you. I will give you everything I can.” Everything he could give… But that didn’t include honesty, or a future without a hidden life and a hidden child. I gave a single, hollow laugh. “Get out.” Ryan paused. “Anna…” “I said get out!” I grabbed the nearest thing—a heavy, polished metal sculpture—and hurled it at him with all my strength. He didn’t flinch. The expensive ornament clipped his temple, leaving a quick, vivid streak of red. “Your emotions are running high. Decisions made in anger are always regretted later.” “I’ll come back later when you’ve calmed down.” The door clicked shut softly. I slid down the wall, sinking onto the cold floor. The chasm ripped open in my heart howled with a cold, devastating wind. It told me that everything I’d believed in, expected, and meticulously built over the past three years, had been resting on shifting sand. And now, the sandcastle was gone. My phone buzzed again. It was my father’s friend, Uncle Dave, from back home. I took a deep breath and answered. “Uncle Dave?” His voice was a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but seeing your father… I can’t keep it from you, Anna. Your dad… he doesn’t have much time left.” I froze. “Uncle Dave… what are you… saying?” “It’s the late stage. Untreatable. He hid it because you were planning the wedding, and he was afraid you couldn’t handle it. He’s been holding on, just waiting to see you walk down the aisle.” The phone slipped from my numb fingers and hit the floor. A gut-wrenching cry escaped me. I sobbed until the well ran dry, until my body was nothing but a fragile husk. Then, I fumbled for the phone and pressed Ryan’s number. He answered instantly. “Anna?” I used every last ounce of will I possessed to squeeze out the dry, cracked words. “The wedding… is on.” I didn’t tell my father anything when I saw him. I just listened, as always, to his simple, heartfelt advice about the wedding day—what would bring luck and happiness—and his careful, detailed instructions about taking care of myself after the babies came. It was the heavy, meticulous way he imparted this mundane advice that felt less like everyday rambling and more like a final, solemn entrustment. I nodded, agreeing to everything. I massaged his shoulders, tidied the last of the heirlooms he’d painstakingly set aside for my dowry. Sunlight poured into the old living room, just as it had on countless afternoons. But when I stood to get water and accidentally caught my reflection in the mirror— I looked ten years older, and only two days had passed. Before the ceremony, I insisted on meeting the woman and the child. Ryan agreed. The black SUV drove us far outside the city to a highly secured estate. My heart sank lower with every passing mile. This was not what “casually housing them somewhere” looked like. At the black wrought-iron gates, fully armed security detail saluted respectfully. “Mr. Kincaid.” Inside, the home was decorated in a cold, modern style, but every piece of furniture, every artwork, screamed expense. High security. Impeccable taste. Then, I saw her. She was on the turn of the grand staircase, very young, with a striking, exotic beauty, but her eyes were full of timidness. “Ryan…” Her voice was soft and quiet, marked by the thick accent. Ryan gave a curt “Hmm.” There was a slight reproof in his tone. “Why are you down here without shoes? How many times have I told you the stone floor is cold?” “I… I heard the car.” She spoke in a whisper, nervously twisting the fabric of her dress, unable to meet our gaze. “This is Anna Calder,” Ryan introduced me simply. He didn’t specify my identity. He didn’t introduce hers. The woman glanced up quickly, eyes darting over me, and her voice shrunk even further. “Ms. Calder… I am Zahra.” I looked behind her. A boy of about thirteen or fourteen stood deep in the shadow, his features a striking, cold replica of Ryan’s. He watched me with undisguised hostility. Ryan waved him over. “Leo. Come here.” The boy walked slowly, his expression blank, and gave a reluctant, “Father.” Ryan turned to the housekeeper. “Maria, bring Zahra’s house shoes.” The woman looked startled, almost flattered, but too shy to move. The housekeeper brought the shoes. Ryan gestured for her to put them on. I stood there, motionless. Watching him use that possessive, domestic language so naturally, so effortlessly, was like having a bucket of ice water dumped over the three years of warmth I had accumulated. His words for her were those of weary management—treating a problem asset. But his actions were those of habitual care—managing a belonging. It was a muscle memory, ingrained over years. The answer was clear the moment I stepped inside. If I married him, I would only be inflicting the same wound on myself, again. I stayed for less than three minutes before rising. “I need to leave.” Ryan stood up with me. “I’ll take you.” As we walked through the short hallway, the estate manager stopped him to confirm a security detail. It left only Zahra, Leo, and me. I thought, perhaps, she was truly oblivious to my existence. There was no need to expose the ugliness. But as I moved to leave, Zahra timidly blocked my path, her voice soft but now laced with a subtle, sharp venom. “I heard Ms. Calder’s father is sending out invitations everywhere… Truly, what a spectacle. To be so proud of your daughter becoming… the second family.” Slam. I didn’t hold back the force of the blow. Her head snapped sideways, her face instantly swelling and reddening. Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t dare to cry aloud. “You… you hit me?!” I stepped closer, towering over her. “Mention my father’s name again, and I will tear that mouth off your face. I promise you, I will.” Ryan rushed back, hearing the noise. He saw Zahra’s swollen face and his expression tightened. “Anna, you promised you wouldn’t make this difficult.” I met his gaze head-on. “Ask her what she just said.” Zahra’s voice was thin and shaky, a genuine whimper now. “Ryan… I didn’t… I only…” The boy, Leo, looked up suddenly, glaring at me. “How dare you hit my mother?!” I looked coldly at the pair, unwilling to entertain the performance. I went straight to the heart of the matter. “Ryan, she just called my father a fool for proudly giving his daughter to you as a mistress! This is the ‘simple and settled’ woman you’ve been keeping?” Ryan inhaled sharply. “Even if she spoke inappropriately, you don’t resort to violence. What happened to you? Why are you being so irrational?” Irrational? I watched him subtly position himself to shield Zahra and Leo. The cold fury inside me was instantly doused with icy water. “She insulted my dying father, and I defended him. That is irrational?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a breath to steady himself. “Can we please be adults about this? Not here. This is becoming embarrassing.” I looked at his perpetually logical face and suddenly realized the futility of any further argument. I raised my chin and forced the burning tears back. I had once desperately longed for this public, celebrated wedding. Now, I was only grateful it was a mere formality. A performance that would allow me to walk away clean. The wedding day was bright and sunny. Everything went according to plan, until the moment before the exchange of rings. The grand doors of the ballroom burst open. A frail figure, Zahra, stumbled in, her face pale and distraught. Her voice was weak and tearful. “Ryan… Leo… he’s gone! I can’t find him anywhere… I’m scared…” Before she could finish, she collapsed onto the floor. My heart lurched violently. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the forced smile on my father’s face. Every surging emotion was brutally suppressed. Ryan was already making a move to jump off the altar. I gripped his hand, my fingers digging into his wrist. I looked up at him, pleading with a desperate, self-sacrificing humility. “Ryan… twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes. Let’s finish the ritual. She’ll be cared for.” “My father is watching… Don’t let him think… I made the wrong choice… Please. Just this once. Play the role for me, okay?” I tried to give him a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. Ryan’s brow was deeply furrowed, his voice sharp with condemnation. “Zahra is collapsed, Leo is missing, and you want me to stay here and finish this twenty-minute act? Is your performance more important than a child’s life?” The next second, he wrenched his hand free, the force sending me stumbling back, knocking over the massive champagne tower. And in front of hundreds of stunned guests, he strode quickly toward the collapsed woman. “Ryan!” I yelled, using the last of my breath. “If you walk out that door today, we are done. You and I. Forever.” The immense ballroom fell into a terrifying, deep silence. He only turned his head slightly, throwing back a single, cold line. “You, right now, are a stranger to me.” Then, he signaled for his men to lift Zahra, and walked out without a backward glance. The officiant stood awkwardly in place. My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the cold marble floor. The pain in my lower abdomen was a sudden, violent tearing. Until the pristine white silk of my dress began to bloom with a dark, shocking red… And with a dull, heavy thump. My father’s frail, desperate hand—the one that had wanted to secure my happiness before he left—finally let go. The car had barely started moving when Zahra stirred in Ryan’s arms. She leaned weakly against his shoulder, whispering, “I didn’t mean to, Ryan. I was just so scared when I couldn’t find Leo.” Ryan gave distracted, noncommittal responses. The image of Anna’s final, betrayed look flashed in his mind. A strange, heavy feeling pulled at his chest, but he quickly dismissed it, replacing it with annoyance. Women were endless drama. Did she really value her perfectly staged ceremony over his safety and comfort? His phone buzzed. He answered, his tone curt. “Say it.” Ace, his second-in-command, sounded uncharacteristically panicked. “Ryan, about Anna… something big happened!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389837”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel