Category: English

Chapter 1 We held our wedding ceremony three years ago, yet my pilot wife has canceled our appointment to get our marriage license eighteen times. The first time, her male trainee had a test flight, and I waited on the steps of City Hall for an entire day. The second time, she received a call from him halfway there, made a sudden U-turn, and dropped me off on the side of the highway. After that, whenever we scheduled an appointment, her trainee would inevitably have some sort of emergency. Eventually, I decided to leave her. But the moment I boarded the plane to Paris, she chased after me like she had lost her mind. We’ve been “married” for three years, but Chloe never made it legal. Today marked her 1,000th successful flight—a huge milestone—and it was also the seventeenth date she had promised we’d finally go to City Hall. But at her celebration dinner, while I was being pressured into drink after drink by her superiors, she was busy laughing and whispering with Ryan, her male First Officer and mentee. I nursed a high fever, drinking until I was nearly unconscious, yet she didn’t spare me a single glance. Many of my colleagues sighed, looking at me with pity. Everyone could see who I was destroying my health for. When the party ended, Chloe, who was supposed to head to the courthouse with me, bailed once again. She pulled her car up to the curb and stopped me just as I reached for the door handle. “Ryan drank too much covering for me earlier. I need to drive him home. You take an Uber.” Her voice was clipped, professional. “We probably won’t make it to the Clerk’s Office this afternoon. Let’s reschedule.” Without waiting for a reaction, she rushed out of the driver’s seat to gingerly help Ryan into the passenger side—my seat. Eight years of dating, three years of marriage, and this was the seventeenth time Chloe had pushed me aside for Ryan. In the past, I would have exploded. I would have screamed, demanded to know who her husband actually was, and pointed out that I was the one blocking drinks for her all night. But this time, I just smiled faintly. “Okay. Drive safe.” Chloe paused, clearly surprised by my calmness. But her indifference returned a second later. “I’ll buy you a gift to make up for it when I get back tonight.” She drove off. Before speeding away, I saw her lean over to roll up the window for Ryan, afraid the drunk kid would catch a chill. The old Chloe never allowed the smell of alcohol in her car. Even in the dead of winter, she’d blast the AC if I had been drinking. I realized then that her rules only applied to me. The Los Angeles midday sun was scorching, but my heart felt like ice. I took a deep breath and put my birth certificate and documents back into my bag. It was time to let go of these eight years. Chapter 2 That afternoon, I went straight to the company HQ and handed in my resignation letter. “Does Chloe know you’re quitting?” My manager was shocked. I had been the airline’s Gold Tier Purser for seven consecutive years. I had a bright future here. I forced a bitter smile. “I’ll tell her tonight. Not that she’ll care.” “It’s a shame,” the manager sighed. “You two flew new routes together, won awards together… Three years ago, even the CEO attended your wedding. Everyone envied you two. But…” He trailed off, shaking his head. Yes, those were beautiful memories. But memories are just ghosts of the past. We could never go back. It was past 10 PM when I got home. The house was cold and empty. My phone buzzed. A notification from Instagram popped up. Ryan had tagged me in a post. The photo showed the dashboard of Chloe’s car. The caption read: “Thanks to my beautiful mentor for staying by my side all afternoon. As a thank you, I’m taking her to the Coldplay concert tomorrow! Can’t wait.” I knew then that Chloe, who said she’d be back tonight, wasn’t coming home. This scenario had played out too many times over the last three years. I made a cup of instant noodles and opened my email. Offers from airlines in over ten countries sat in my inbox. I moved the mouse and clicked on the offer from Air France without hesitation. I booked a flight to Paris for two days later. Five years ago, Chloe encountered the biggest scare of her career during a flight to Paris. Since then, the city became a taboo subject. She refused to fly there, and out of solidarity, neither did I. Going to Paris meant one thing: Chloe and I would likely never see each other again. Chapter 3 The next morning, I woke up and started packing. I was halfway through when Chloe came home, looking exhausted. She brought with her the overwhelming scent of men’s cologne. I paused, the smell stinging my nose. Chloe had sensitive skin and hated strong fragrances. For years, she scolded me if my shampoo was too scented. I stopped using cologne entirely for her. Now I realized she didn’t hate fragrances; she just didn’t like them on me. She saw the suitcases and froze. “Ryan was hungover badly last night. I got a hotel room nearby so I wouldn’t disturb you.” I looked up, surprised. It was the first time in three years she had bothered to explain herself. I nodded silently. She walked over, glancing at the luggage. “Packing for a trip? You have a flight?” “Something like that.” She seemed to relax visibly. “I have errands today. I just came back to grab something, then I’m heading out. Don’t wait up for lunch.” “Okay.” I didn’t look up, continuing to fold my clothes. I had planned to tell her about my resignation over lunch, to formally end our eight years. Now, it seemed, I wouldn’t get the chance. Chloe grabbed a red gift bag, took her coat from the rack, and hurried out. Crash! The vibration of the slamming door caused a picture frame, which had hung there for eight years, to fall and shatter. I looked at the debris. It was a photo of us at our first concert, hands clasped, smiling radiantly. That day, she promised she’d go to a concert with me every year, no matter how busy she was. But ever since Ryan became her trainee, she had forgotten everything. In the empty room, the clock ticked loudly. After a long silence, I swept up the glass shards. I took the photo—and the last of my lingering affection—and threw it into the trash. Chapter 4 By evening, I was lying in bed, exhausted, when my best friend, Mike, called. “What is wrong with Chloe? This is too much. Have you seen her story? She’s practically flaunting that pretty boy Ryan.” “You guys aren’t even divorced yet. How can she do this?” I opened my phone. At the top of my feed was Ryan’s new post. In the photo, Ryan was wearing a Patek Philippe watch, holding the red gift bag Chloe had retrieved earlier. So, she came home just to get his concert gift. The caption read: “Three years of knowing you. So lucky to have you, Chloe. Happy 3rd Anniversary!” It hit me then. Three years? Right. Today was technically my and Chloe’s third wedding anniversary. We had never celebrated it, so even I had forgotten. I exhaled slowly. “She doesn’t need a divorce, Mike. We never legally married.” “What?” Mike screamed. “You’ve been ‘married’ for three years and she still hasn’t signed the papers?” His shock was deafening. Yes. The wedding was three years ago. And she had unilaterally canceled our appointment seventeen times. Chapter 5 At 11 PM, Chloe unexpectedly came home. She took off her coat and went to hang it up, but froze when she saw the empty spot on the wall where our photo used to be. “Where’s our picture?” She walked into the bedroom, looking slightly panicked. “It fell and broke.” She glanced at the trash can, saw the glass, and relaxed. She reached into her bag and pulled out a shopping bag with a Gucci belt. “I didn’t have time to get your gift yesterday. Today is our third anniversary. Happy anniversary.” She tossed the belt onto the bed. I stared at it. Three years, and she actually remembered? Then I saw the receipt sticking out. Purchased thirty minutes ago. She had likely seen Ryan’s caption and panic-bought this on the way home. She didn’t know I already had two belts in this exact style hanging in the closet. I just looked at her. “By the way,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “Could you… withdraw your name from the ‘Employee of the Year’ running? Ryan has been here for three years, and his biggest dream is to win it. You win every year. Can you let him have it this time?” I smiled internally. So the gift had a price tag. “Sure.” I nodded calmly. Not just this year. I wouldn’t be competing with him ever again. Because after tonight, I would be gone. “You… you agree?” She was surprised by my lack of resistance. She looked at me, guilt flickering in her eyes. “Ryan is my mentee,” she justified. “I should look out for him. And you’re basically his mentor too. It’s the right thing to do.” “Oh, right. I’m not flying tomorrow. Let’s go to City Hall at 10 AM and finally get the certificate.” I didn’t respond. She seemed to remember the luggage. “I forgot to ask, when is your flight tomorrow?” “3 PM.” I looked at her, ready to use this final moment to tell her the truth. But before I could speak, her phone rang. It was Ryan. His voice was weak; he had twisted his ankle and needed help. Chloe hung up, looking guilty. “Um… Ryan has a situation. He can’t handle it alone. I have to go.” She used a questioning tone, asking for permission. I swallowed my words, forced a smile, and nodded. “It’s fine. Go.” She looked relieved. She stood up immediately. “You have time before 3 PM. We’ll go to City Hall at 10 AM sharp tomorrow. Don’t worry. No matter what happens, I’ll be there.” I smiled bitterly. She never gave me the chance to say goodbye. The next morning. I took my luggage and went straight to the airport, skipping City Hall completely. I didn’t receive a single call from her asking where I was. It wasn’t until I was about to board that I got a text: “Sorry, Ryan is really in bad shape. I just took him to the hospital. I missed the appointment. When you get back from this trip, I’ll take you first thing.” My heart remained perfectly still. Predictably, the eighteenth time was also a cancellation. “No need, Chloe. I’ve resigned. I’m flying to Paris. After today, we won’t see each other again.” I sent the final message and prepared to turn off my phone. The next second, my phone exploded with vibrations. Chapter 6 The cabin announcement played, instructing passengers to turn off electronic devices. I ignored the vibrations, deleted Chloe’s contact information, and powered down the phone. From this moment on, Chloe and I were strangers. In the hospital. Chloe stared at her phone, going mad as her replies returned with a red exclamation mark: Message Not Delivered. She dialed my number repeatedly. “The subscriber you are calling is powered off.” She pressed the screen harder, as if brute force could connect the call. “Impossible… impossible,” she muttered. “We were fine yesterday. I told him we’d get the license.” She stood there in a daze for minutes before sprinting out of the hospital, driving recklessly to the airport. “Manager Davis! Ethan isn’t scheduled for Paris! Why did he resign? What is going on?!” She stormed into the Crew Center, grabbing my manager’s arm. The manager looked confused. “Ethan didn’t tell you? He resigned the night of your celebration dinner. I asked him if you knew, and he said he’d tell you that night.” Chloe felt like she’d been struck by lightning. She remembered. That night, she didn’t go home. Yesterday afternoon, she only stopped by to grab the gift. Last night, she left minutes after arriving. For two days, she hadn’t given me a single minute to speak. For two days, she had been with Ryan.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389676”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My stepsister tricked me into drinking a protein shake spiked with her own blood—a dark ritual to steal my beauty. She replaced me, becoming a top supermodel, while I withered away—bloated, disfigured, and blacklisted from the industry. My stepmother didn’t stop there. She placed a cursed cactus in my bedroom, an occult object designed to siphon my luck and life force. The harder I worked, the worse my life became. I lived in a nightmare until the day I was struck by a truck on 5th Avenue. But when I opened my eyes… I was back. Back to the night my stepsister handed me that silver tumbler for the first time. I took the shake—the one meant to swap our faces—and secretly poured it into the soil of the very cactus my stepmother used to drain my luck. In this life, if I’m going down, I’m taking every single one of them with me. 1 “Harper, sweetie, I warmed up your milk. You’ve been working so hard, drink up and get some rest!” Hearing Tiffany’s voice sent a violent shiver down my spine. In my previous life, this glass of milk was the beginning of the end. My mom passed away when I was very young. Not long after, my dad brought home a new woman, Brenda. And her daughter, Tiffany, who was only a few months younger than me. At first, they played the part of the perfect, supportive family. But everything changed after graduation. I was scouted by a top agency and quickly became an international supermodel. Tiffany was consumed by jealousy. She found a psychic who taught her a dark ritual: using her own blood as a medium, mixed into my nightly milk, to slowly swap our bodies and faces. She stole my runway, earning millions and basking in the spotlight. I was left with a face covered in cysts and a body that gained weight no matter what I did. I lost my career. To ensure I never recovered, Brenda placed a “Luck-Vampire Cactus” in my room to drain the energy of whoever slept there. No matter how hard I tried, I met with nothing but failure. I was a walking corpse until that accident sent me to the ICU. In the hospital, Tiffany leaned over my bed and whispered the truth. “Harper, I hated you. I hated that you were born with everything—the looks, the money, the attention—without even trying.” “But it doesn’t matter now. Mom and I took your dad, and now we’ve taken your beauty, your fame, your fortune… everything.” “Oh, and guess what? Next month, I’m not just walking in the Global Gala… I’m getting engaged to your boyfriend, Chad.” “Too bad you won’t be alive to see it.” My damaged heart couldn’t take the shock. The monitor flatlined. Tiffany pretended to scream for help, and my world went black. “Harper?” Tiffany’s voice pulled me back to the present. I looked up. Under her mask of concern, I saw the hidden malice and anticipation. I suppressed my rage and took the cup. “Thanks, Tiff. I’ll drink it in a minute.” I watched her leave and locked the door. I turned around and poured the cursed milk directly into the soil of the luck-stealing cactus. Since this milk is infused with her blood, I imagine this evil plant will find it much more… appetizing than just my presence. In this life, let’s see what happens when two parasites try to feed on each other. 2 A few minutes later, Tiffany couldn’t wait to check on me. Seeing the empty cup, she couldn’t hide her grin. Her eyes, already squeezed shut by the fat on her cheeks, practically disappeared. She volunteered to wash the cup. When she opened the kitchen door, the smell of grease hit me. Tiffany was making late-night fried chicken. Honestly, Tiffany took after her mother. Brenda was petite and decent-looking, so Tiffany shouldn’t have been unattractive. But when they first moved in, Brenda wanted to assert dominance. Any gourmet food went straight to Tiffany. To mock me, Tiffany would gorge herself in front of me. “Dad bought me this pudding! Sorry Harper, he didn’t get one for you. Don’t be mad!” At dinner, if I touched a ribeye steak, Tiffany would act like a victim. “Dad, back home, Mom always let me have the whole steak. Does Harper have to take everything?” My dad, who hated conflict and felt my late mother was too strong-willed, sided with them to feel like a “man.” He ordered that I eat leftovers only after they finished. For a child, life is about food and play. Tiffany’s gluttony grew unchecked. She became obese. When we hit our teens, she started obsessing over my figure. She convinced Dad to let me eat at the table, but only so Brenda could cook greasy, sugary bombs to sabotage me. But I was already modeling. I ate strict agency-approved meals. They couldn’t touch me. In my last life, I saw her eating fried chicken at midnight and tried to warn her. “Weight loss is about consistency. Eating this late ruins your metabolism.” She just gave me a mysterious smirk. “Harper, I don’t care anymore. I believe in destiny. Maybe one day I’ll just wake up skinny. Don’t you think?” Now I knew. She knew the swap was coming. Every calorie she ate would end up on my hips. I walked into the kitchen, pretending to be tempted. “Is that fried chicken? Can I have a bite?” Tiffany panicked and covered the plate. “No! Harper… you’re a model! You have to watch your figure!” I looked down, acting sad. “That warm milk really woke up my appetite. But you’re right. Maybe you should stop making me milk. It makes me crave junk food!” She froze. The milk was the only way to mask the taste of her blood. As I turned to leave, she shouted, “Wait! I’ll make you a keto-friendly dessert!” She spent an hour making a complicated coconut egg white pudding. She even got yelled at by Dad for using the mixer so late. I ate it with satisfaction. “If I have this after my milk every night, I won’t crave junk.” She forced a smile through gritted teeth. “Sure… I’ll make it for you every single night!” 3 Half a month passed. Every night, I took the spiked milk and fed it to the cactus. Every night, Tiffany slaved away making me gourmet diet desserts. She was tired, but happy. She thought she was feeding her future body. To keep up the act, I used makeup to create fake spots on my face and started wearing a mask at home. The cactus began to assimilate her. Her bumpy, acne-ridden skin started to smooth out, becoming glossy and green-tinted. Her body shape changed—not just thinner, but… flatter. Like a succulent. She stopped eating grease at home to avoid tempting me, so she binged outside. The cactus on my desk grew rounder and oilier every day. I eavesdropped outside her room. “Mom! The Psychic’s stuff is working! I lost 20 pounds this week!” I smiled. She didn’t notice she wasn’t just losing fat; she was losing her human shape. Tiffany continued, “But Harper’s career is still going up, even though her face is getting messy. Is your cactus working?” Brenda replied, “Patience! She’s a top model; it takes time to drain that much luck. But look at me! I’ve been winning scratch-off tickets all week! Small amounts, but I never win!” Tiffany sighed. “Mom, get me a charm too. I’ve been so unlucky lately.” Of course she was. The cactus was drinking her blood every night. Tiffany had been tripping over nothing, dropping her phone, losing keys. The day Brenda won $200, Tiffany got food poisoning and soiled herself on the subway. She was mortified. “I haven’t gone to work in days!” “Who cares about work?” Brenda waved her hand. “Once you have Harper’s face, you’ll make millions just by standing there!” They began fantasizing about mansions, cars, and kicking my dad to the curb. I turned to leave, but then I heard a name. “I’ve been online dating Chad for months. Once I’m skinny, I’ll meet him in person and leave Harper with nothing!” 4 In my last life, I never suspected Chad. He was my college sweetheart. When I got “sick” and ugly, he drifted away. I thought it was natural. But hearing he was engaged to Tiffany in the ICU? That was a setup. He had been cheating for a long time. Fine. Let me give him a little push. I texted Chad: 【Babe, I don’t know what’s happening. I’m gaining weight and my face is breaking out. I might have to quit modeling. What should I do?】 Usually, he replied instantly. This time, the “typing” bubble appeared and disappeared for minutes. Finally: 【Harper, are you just tired? Don’t give up so easily. Modeling pays so well!】 I pushed harder: 【If I quit, will you support me?】 Radio silence. A moment later, Tiffany entered my room. “Harper, did you fight with Chad?” Her tone was concerned, but she was smirking. She was impatient because I wasn’t falling apart fast enough. I frowned. “None of your business.” She giggled. “Harper, if you lost your beauty and job, would Chad still love you?” “Oh, don’t get me wrong! I just mean… a guy like Chad has plenty of options. If you don’t work hard, someone might take your place.” She spun around, showing off her “new figure.” I squinted. She looked like a flattened croissant. She took my empty milk cup. “Cherish these days, Harper.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389692”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my rebirth, when Donovan’s plaything again sent their explicit photos to my family’s group chat, I didn’t do as I had in my last life. I didn’t grab the fruit knife and stab him. Nor did I fly into a rage for divorce when he defended her. I even stopped him as he pretended to pick up his phone to “teach her a lesson.” “It’s fine,” I said calmly. “She’s young, just joking around. No need to scare her.” Donovan eyed me with suspicion. “What game are you playing now? Planning to go after Ruby again?” I smiled. “Of course not. I’m just…” I just don’t love you anymore. In my past life, after our divorce, he not only ruined my father’s company for Ruby’s sake— he drove my father to jump off a bridge. And when I was dying of cancer, begging for money, he made me kneel like a dog to apologize to her. The twenty dollars he tossed at my feet couldn’t save me, or buy my father a proper urn. So in this life… What is love or pride worth? Not nearly as much as money. But faced with my indifference, Donovan was anything but pleased. 1 “Why aren’t you angry?” Donovan gripped my hand, his dark eyes simmering with displeasure. “You always said your father has a heart condition, that he can’t handle stress.” “She went way too far this time. Why aren’t you saying anything?” His words sent a bitter taste to the back of my throat. In my last life, I was angry. Of course, I was angry. My father did have a heart condition. When Ruby, in her viciousness, sent those photos to our family, my father was so overwhelmed with shock and fury that he collapsed on the spot. They managed to save him, but he was never the same. He was left half-paralyzed. A man of iron pride, now confined to a wheelchair for life. I couldn’t accept it. I trembled with a grief so profound it felt like my bones would shatter. But even then, Donovan protected her. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he’d snarled. “It was just bad luck that your father had a stroke. It has nothing to do with Ruby. Can you stop using these pathetic excuses to attack her? It’s pathetic.” Then he’d looked at me, his eyes cold. “Annelise, let me be clear. I’m in love with Ruby. I thought my life was set, but then I met her. For the first time, I know what true love feels like. So if you dare to touch her, I will make you pay.” My reason shattered. I grabbed the fruit knife from the table and plunged it into his chest. Bright red blood streamed over my wrist, but it wasn’t enough to quench the fire in my soul. “If Ruby is your true love, then what am I? The girl who grew up with you, who stood by you through everything?” When he was eighteen, under a canopy of wisteria, Donovan had sworn he would love me forever. The words still echoed in my memory. How could he change? Who gave him the right? He told me not to touch Ruby, so I made it my mission to destroy her. I’ve never been a woman who lets others walk all over her. I went to her university and threw the printed photos onto the dean’s desk. Ruby became the campus slut, her reputation in tatters. That night, Donovan stormed into my bedroom. He ripped my clothes off and took pictures, plastering my most intimate moments all over the internet. When Ruby came to taunt my father again, I slapped her across the face in public. In retaliation, Donovan sabotaged my father’s company with a faulty project, bankrupting him. I couldn’t take it anymore. I demanded a divorce. But he had already transferred all our assets to Ruby. We were childhood sweethearts. I had been with him through his darkest days, helping him build his company from the ground up. In the end, not only did I leave with nothing, but he also saddled me with hundreds of millions in debt. The blows were too much. I fell into a deep depression, and my body gave out. I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. My father, not wanting to be a burden, gave me the last of his money and threw himself into the river. Later, I wanted to buy him a decent urn, something made of pearwood. I started working in nightclubs, pouring drinks for lecherous men. But Donovan, like a persistent ghost, found me again. He made me kneel before Ruby and drink until I begged for her forgiveness. He said if I did, he’d give me a twenty-thousand-dollar tip. I thought of the beautiful pearwood urn I could never afford, and I agreed. My father had lived his life with dignity. I couldn’t let him have such a miserable end because of me. I drank bottle after bottle. I bowed my head to Ruby again and again. But in the end, Donovan broke his promise. He grabbed my hair, his cold eyes raking over my emaciated frame. “Annelise, you’re so pathetic now. Do you see? Compared to Ruby, you’re nothing special.” I was completely drained, kneeling on the floor, a broken laugh escaping my lips. “You’re right. I am pathetic.” How else could I have ever loved him? My words seemed to anger him for some reason. He shoved me aside with a sneer. “So this is the great Annelise Croft. A useless waste who can’t even apologize properly. You’re not worth twenty thousand. Twenty dollars is more like it.” He tossed a crumpled bill at my feet and walked away, his arm wrapped around Ruby. And I… I died that night, alone on the cold, unforgiving street. The memory of my wretched death made my nails dig into my palms. When I didn’t respond, Donovan’s frustration boiled over. He yanked his hand away from mine. “What are you sulking about now?” he snapped. “Annelise, you know what I hate most about you? That calculating look on your face. I love Ruby because she’s nothing like you. When she loves, she loves fiercely. When she hates, she hates with passion. She sent those photos because she loves me, because she’s possessive. She did it out of love, so don’t you dare use this as an excuse to hurt her!” 2 Seeing his blatant favoritism, a dull ache still throbbed in my chest. But it was only for a moment. I met his defensive glare with a placating smile. “Don’t be so worked up. I really do understand,” I said softly. “She’s young. She can’t hide her feelings. It was just a mistake made in the heat of the moment. I get it.” He looked at me, incredulous. “You’re really not mad at her? But you always hated these cheap, manipulative little vixens.” I reached out and smoothed his already perfect collar. “No, really. I’m not,” I said with a smile. “I know you’re busy with work, under a lot of pressure. A man needs a pretty young thing to listen to his troubles. It’s normal. Everyone in our circle does it. You were always telling me to get used to it. I was immature before, I caused a lot of embarrassing scenes for you. It won’t happen again.” Faced with my generosity, Donovan, who should have been pleased, looked as if he’d swallowed a fly. He stammered for a moment. “But… but after what she did, aren’t you worried your father will be angry?” My smile widened. I pulled a contract from my purse. “Of course, I’m worried.” “So, darling, why don’t you give the Southgate Project to my father’s company? When he sees you’re willing to give him such a massive deal, I’m sure any anger he has will just melt away.” For years, my family’s business had relied on traditional industries, and we were facing some serious challenges. The Southgate Project was crucial for our survival. Donovan. This time, if you can’t give me love, then just give me money. Lots and lots of money. He finally seemed to realize I was serious. He hesitated for a long moment, then a relieved smile spread across his face. “Annelise, I’m so glad you’re thinking this way.” He took the pen and, under my expectant gaze, signed his name on the contract. Then he added, his voice full of meaning, “If you can always be this reasonable, I’ll be happy to give you many more projects like this. But if I find out you’re just putting on an act, that you’re still trying to hurt Ruby behind my back, I will not let you off the hook.” His eyes were sharp as knives, every word a shield for the woman he loved. In the past, this would have torn me apart. Now, it was just… tedious. The suffering of my past life had extinguished any love I had for him. In this life, he was nothing more than a walking ATM. I gave him a sincere smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to get along wonderfully with dear Ruby.” With that, I lost all patience for the charade and walked out. 3 I drove straight to my family home. Although the first thing I did after being reborn was to kick my father out of the family group chat before Ruby could post the photos, I was still uneasy until I saw him with my own eyes. In my last life, our endings were too tragic. This time, I would not allow anything to happen to him. Thankfully, everything was fine. My father hadn’t seen the disgusting pictures. He was in the garden, happily tending to his winter plum blossoms. When he saw me, he beamed and insisted on making me his famous stew. “My girl is home! It’s cold today, let me make you your favorite stew, how about it?” The next second, he noticed my red-rimmed eyes and his expression turned to one of concern. “Annelise, why are your eyes red? Did that scoundrel Donovan bully you? Tell me. I’ll sort him out.” My father was always like that, unconditionally on my side. My mother died when I was young, so he always felt he had to love me enough for two. Years ago, after Donovan’s father committed suicide over financial crimes and his mother was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, everyone in our social circle assumed Donovan was finished. No one would help him. Only I stayed by his side. During his darkest time, I knelt before my father and begged him to give Donovan a chance, to invest in him. My father, for my sake, took him in. He emptied the company’s accounts to fund Donovan’s venture. When Donovan found out, he knelt before my father, tears streaming down his face, and swore he would treat him like his own father for the rest of his life. But in the end, he was the one who killed him. The image of my father’s bloated corpse, pulled from the river, flashed in my mind. I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, to keep from crying out. I handed him the contract from my bag. “Don’t worry, Dad. Donovan didn’t bully me. In fact, he gave us the Southgate Project. Here, we can start work on it tomorrow.” Seeing the contract, my father finally relaxed. “Good, good. As long as you two are okay. Annelise, I’m an old man. Money isn’t important. As long as you’re happy, I can rest easy.” I forced a smile, blinking back tears. “Don’t worry, Dad. I will be happy.” I stayed at my father’s house that night. Donovan was busy with his “true love,” so he didn’t bother me. I enjoyed the peace and quiet. After a good night’s sleep, I drove to the hospital for a full check-up. In my last life, I died of stomach cancer. This time, I wasn’t taking any chances.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389708”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My brother used one of my curated selfies to catfish people online. He was hoping to hook a sweet, shy girl, but instead, he snagged a leviathan: our university’s resident hothead, Jax. Jax, feeling deeply insulted, took to the campus confessions board that very night to put him on blast: “PSA: My roommate is a total creep. Not that I’m planning anything, but just hypothetically, is it illegal to murder him?” Someone in the comments tried to play peacemaker: “Dude, chill. What if he wasn’t lying? What if that’s actually his sister?” Jax’s reply was swift and brutal: “Bullshit. Nobody looks that good in real life. Photoshop frauds must die.” Then came the next day’s basketball game. There, in the cheerleading squad, he saw me—the girl who “couldn’t possibly look that good.” He dropped the ball mid-dribble, whipped out his phone, and frantically edited his post. “URGENT: I think I scared my brother-in-law so bad he fainted. Should I give him mouth-to-mouth? Waiting online for answers!” 1 Tyson and I are twins. But the distribution of intellect between us is ridiculously skewed, as if I stole his share of brains back in the womb. While I was winning gold medals in the Math Olympiad, he was playing in the mud. When I got early admission into a top-tier university, he was being held back by his teacher for mixing up the alphabet with, well, everything else. Somehow, by a stroke of dumb luck, he got an athletic scholarship to the same university as me. Just a few days into the semester, the idiot showed up at my door, his face glowing with a dopey, lovesick grin. He told me he was in love and was going to pursue the famously aloof campus queen. I knew who he was talking about. That girl wasn’t even into guys. Tyson, however, was a firm believer in the invincible power of true love. For the next few weeks, he gave me daily progress reports. “Paige, she added me! She accepted my friend request!” “She’s so sweet when she texts, and she sends me cat emojis! Is this what it’s like to talk to an angel?” “…” “Paige! Help! She wants to meet up tomorrow! I’m freaking out, can you help me?” When I got that message, I was buried under a mountain of thesis revisions from my advisor, my brain completely fried. I agreed without a second thought. I worked late into the night, finally emailing the paper to my professor before collapsing onto my bed, phone in hand. As my brain slowly rebooted, a thought surfaced. Wait a second. The campus queen was known for her ice-queen vibe. When did she become a “sweet angel”? And besides, Tyson, with his single-digit IQ, actually managed to win her over? Before I could puzzle it out, my roommate, Tilly, forwarded me a trending post from the university forum. The title was pure clickbait. My thumb slipped, and I tapped on it. The poster’s username alone screamed “don’t mess with me,” and every word dripped with fury: “My roommate is a sicko. Can I just bury him in the woods?” 2 The comments section was a swarm of curious onlookers, eager for drama. “What kind of sicko? Spill the tea!” “OP is a guy, roommate’s a guy… I see where this is going, hehe.” “Ew, keep it in your pants. Not every guy-on-guy story is a romance.” The original poster replied instantly, his rage palpable even through the screen. “He’s not gay, he’s a scammer! Used some hot girl’s picture as his profile pic. I thought I was talking to a girl for two whole weeks!” Ah, a classic catfishing disaster. Some commenters were on his side: “That’s disgusting. Using a fake photo to play with someone’s feelings. OP, don’t hold back, beat him up!” Others tried to be the voice of reason: “It’s the middle of the night, you guys are roommates. Just rough him up a little to blow off steam, don’t actually kill the guy.” “Wait, you lived with him this whole time and only just found out?” This seemed to make the poster even angrier: “I’m a freshman who usually lives off-campus. I don’t know the idiot. He always seemed like a harmless dummy, but it was all an act!” “I just cornered him in the bathroom. He was crying and begging, swearing the picture was of his sister and that she really looks like that. Give me a break. As if anyone could be that beautiful in real life.” Within minutes, the thread had hundreds of replies. I was cackling under my covers, thoroughly entertained. Then, my scrolling finger froze on a blurry photo someone had posted. It was a picture of the poster’s dorm room, meant to prove how much of a “creep” the roommate was. In the corner of the shot was a scruffy gray backpack. Dangling from it was an incredibly ugly, bright green frog plushie. Unless I was blind, that was the exact same one Tyson had begged me to win for him at the arcade last week. Just then, the OP added a new comment: “The coward is a total lightweight. Started crying before I even laid a hand on him. Keeps insisting it’s his sister and that she’s coming tomorrow to sort things out.” “Is that a threat? He wants to throw down? Fine by me. He says his sister runs with a tough crowd. I’ll be waiting right here tomorrow. Let’s see if I don’t take them both down.” The smile on my face vanished. Oh, crap. This “sicko” who used his sister’s photo to catfish his hot-tempered roommate… it couldn’t be Tyson, could it? 3 My head was spinning. I frantically scrolled through the post again, desperate to find any evidence to the contrary. Finally, I had to accept the horrifying truth. That unlucky bastard was, without a doubt, my own flesh-and-blood brother. Tyson, you have a death wish! The tone in the comments had already shifted. “Damn, not even scared of a ‘tough crowd’? This OP doesn’t sound like your average freshman.” “For those who don’t know, that tone, that swagger… there’s only one guy on campus who talks like that. The one even the dean is polite to.” “Oh, I know who this is! It’s him! That creep roommate is so screwed. He picked a fight with the final boss.” A chill ran down my spine. Based on my extensive reading experience, guys with this kind of background and temper were always the untouchable campus royalty. I had the sudden, violent urge to strangle Tyson. My fingers flew faster than my brain, opening my chat with him. “Tyson, are you trying to get yourself killed?!” It took a long time for him to reply. When he did, it was a voice message. I tapped it, my hand trembling. Tyson’s blood-curdling scream nearly shattered my eardrums. “Paige! Help me! He’s going to kill me!” Thank god I was wearing headphones, or the entire dorm would have woken up. Then, a new voice cut through the message. A cold, low chuckle. It was deep, clear, and laced with a casual sort of menace. “So, what ‘tough crowd’ are we talking about? How many people are you bringing tomorrow?” 4 I took a deep breath, my fingers shaking as I typed. I wrote and deleted my message several times before finally sending: “Um… this is all a misunderstanding. It’s just me…” The person on the other end clearly had no patience for my explanations. He cut me off, issuing a challenge. “You looking down on me? Fine. I don’t hit girls. I’ll even give you a two-hand handicap tomorrow.” The sheer arrogance in his tone was off the charts. He sounded like he knew how to fight. I suddenly felt like Tyson was a lost cause. Maybe it was time to delete his contact and start over. This whole drama of feuding families and gang wars was way above the paygrade of a quiet academic like me. Forget it. I was going to sleep. But just before I drifted off, I made the mistake of checking the forum one last time. The conversation had taken a weird turn. “OP, have you ever considered the possibility that his ‘tough crowd’ sister actually does look like the picture?” “So what? Is being pretty a superpower? OP’s still gonna wipe the floor with her.” “Seriously though, how hot does a picture have to be to have OP this worked up? Post it, let us be the judge.” “Forget it, man. He’s definitely keeping it for himself.” The OP’s final reply was a furious declaration: “Impossible! Absolutely no one looks like that! It’s a scam! This is the first time in my life I’ve been played for a fool, and I’m getting my payback tomorrow!” “So the sister and brother better be ready.” I shut my phone, a tired, serene smile on my face. Great. Looks like tomorrow was going to be a bloodbath. 5 The next morning, Tyson sent me a text from his burner phone. “Paige, something urgent came up, I have to lie low for a while. Take care of yourself.” “P.S. Maybe you should wear a helmet? He said he doesn’t hit girls, but he might not be able to stop himself.” That little rat. He was fast. Well, since the main culprit had fled the scene, there was no reason for me to walk into the line of fire. I had planned to be a hermit in my dorm all day, but Tilly’s booming voice dragged me out of bed. “Paige! Get up! The sun is shining! It’s criminal to sleep in on a day this gorgeous!” Oh, right. I forgot to mention. Tyson and I have different last names, one from our mom and one from our dad. So, everyone assumes I’m an only child. Tyson doesn’t dare acknowledge me in public, afraid I’ll cut off his allowance. “Paige, come on! There’s a basketball game on the North Field, and it’s packed with hotties!” “I heard all the freshman legends are playing. If we’re late, we won’t get a good spot!” Tilly shook my arm, whining, “Please come with me, pretty please? For me, Paige?” I couldn’t resist her, so I dragged myself out of bed, my hair a bird’s nest, and got ready. When we got to the court, it was a madhouse. It felt like every girl from our university, and even the neighboring one, was here. “See that?” Tilly pulled me to a spot in the front corner. “That whole crowd is here for Jax.” She pointed to the center of the court, where a tall figure was surrounded by his teammates. “Jax? You mean the one who’s…” I squinted, trying to make out his face. “Yes! The one whose family is loaded, who has a notoriously short fuse, but is so unbelievably handsome he’s the new campus heartthrob!” Tilly was practically drooling. “I heard his family donated the new science building. And he got in on his own merit, not just money. He’s like a romance novel hero come to life!” My stomach dropped. Jax? Why did that name sound so familiar? Before I could connect the dots, Tilly leaned in close. “Why aren’t you wearing your glasses again? You’re wasting your eyesight! Jax’s face is a work of art, it’s a crime not to see it clearly.” She studied my face for a moment, then changed the subject. “Seriously, Paige, you’re this beautiful and you never wear a stitch of makeup. If you just put in a little effort, that campus queen wouldn’t stand a chance.” I quickly covered her mouth. “Don’t say that. I don’t want the attention.” “Ugh, such a humble brag,” Tilly pouted, turning her attention back to the court. Suddenly, she started waving excitedly. “Whatever! I gotta cheer for my man!” “Your man?” “Hehe, we just started dating. He’s on the other team.” Tilly blushed. “Wanna know what the sickeningly sweet smell of love is like?” I shook my head violently. The game started, and the energy was electric. Tilly was screaming her head off next to me. “Take down Jax! Go, baby, go! Crush the bourgeoisie!” We were surrounded by Jax’s fan club, and her cheers earned us a volley of death glares. Even the players on the court glanced our way. The tall guy, Jax, turned his head. We were standing right under the basket, so he was incredibly close. Even without my glasses, I could see his face clearly. It was stunning. Deep-set features, sharp, intense eyes. He was sweating from the game, a drop tracing the line of his throat as he breathed. His black jersey was damp with sweat, clinging to his body and hinting at the powerful muscles underneath. He was tall, easily over six-foot-three. And he was frowning, looking absolutely ferocious. The ball rolled to a stop by our feet. Jax walked over to get it, his eyes sweeping casually over the crowd. When his gaze passed over me. He stopped dead. His eyes, which had been burning with competitive fire just a second ago, went wide as saucers. He froze, like he’d seen a ghost.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389724”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My childhood sweetheart, Grace, fell madly in love with the poor scholar in her class. The scholar viewed money as dirt. Upon learning that Grace and I were engaged, he scoffed, “Arranged marriages are archaic and absurd. We aren’t living in the Middle Ages!” Grace, mesmerized by his ‘ideals,’ broke our engagement and eloped with him. Five years later, I became the CEO of the family empire. At the succession ceremony, I saw Grace again. Heavy foundation couldn’t hide her exhaustion. Drunk, she cried to me, saying she regretted everything. The next day, her husband, Leo—who had married into her wealthy family—stormed into my office: “You think your money lets you seduce another man’s wife? I’ve lost face because of you. Are you satisfied now?!” Chapter 1 The room fell into a deathly silence. Everyone knew the bad blood between the Sterling and Gallagher families over a scholarship student. The Gallagher heiress, Grace, had ignored our engagement and run off with a penniless boy. In the end, the Gallaghers, unable to see their daughter suffer, agreed to the marriage, ending the farce. I didn’t expect the drama to have a sequel. I frowned. Leo had been living the high life for years, yet his fragile ego remained intact. The inferiority complex in his bones hadn’t changed a bit. I looked around the room and spoke calmly, under the gaze of the elite crowd. “Mr. Evans, this is a public venue. Watch your words. If you want to talk business, calm down. If you slander me again, you can talk to my lawyer.” Leo’s face turned pale, his expression awkward. I looked him over emotionlessly. He was decked out in luxury brands, a far cry from the poor student of five years ago. But his personality—arrogant yet deeply insecure—was exactly the same. Five years ago. Grace said Leo was different. He didn’t suck up to her like other guys. He dared to point out her flaws. In his eyes, she wasn’t a high-and-mighty heiress, just a normal classmate. This “equality” felt like a breath of fresh air to her. People in our circle are driven by profit; even marriage is a transaction. Couples often lived separate lives, keeping up appearances while having affairs. One day, I saw Grace and Leo whispering in the library. Her eyes shone with a light I had never seen. I didn’t care. But I didn’t expect Grace to break our engagement for him. I looked at her then. “Do you know what this means? You’ll lose your inheritance. You might be disowned.” Grace was resolute. “He has talent and ideals. Unlike you people, who only care about money. He’s right. True love shouldn’t be bound by wealth.” Of course, he wasn’t like us. Because he had no money. I found it laughable. That a world as cynical as high society could produce someone as naive as Grace. I agreed to the breakup. The next day, Grace and Leo vanished, taking a night train down south. Before leaving, Grace asked me, “Julian, did you ever love me?” I didn’t answer. But the truth was, I did have feelings for her once. My parents married for love. My dad was a brilliant student from a rural background. He got into an Ivy League school on merit but couldn’t even afford a suit when he courted my mom. My mom, moved by his talent, ignored her family’s objections and handed the company over to him. But once my dad made it big, he rekindled a romance with his college sweetheart. My mom caught them together. The next second, they died in a car crash—a double suicide pact. My mom couldn’t handle the blow. She tried to kill herself multiple times and ended up in a mental institution. My grandfather hated my dad’s betrayal and looked at me with disgust. I became invisible in the family. Until Grace came to visit and invited me to play. We grew close, inseparable. From then on, my grandfather started noticing me again. Chapter 2 He called a family meeting to choose an heir. I wasn’t on the list. Aside from my mom, he had two sons. One was an illegitimate child, Uncle Silas. My eldest uncle only cared about partying, showing no interest in the business. But Uncle Silas was desperate to inherit. I saw him as my biggest rival. I studied relentlessly under immense pressure. I wanted to prove myself, to make my grandfather see my worth. Before I even graduated, I led the company to new heights, but nothing seemed to impress him. Until my engagement to Grace was finalized. The Gallaghers were a top-tier family, equal to the Sterlings. Our union promised a win-win. Only then did my grandfather turn to me and officially name me the successor. Grace and I grew up together. Our backgrounds matched. Falling for her was natural. But those feelings vanished after meeting Leo. My mom’s tragedy was a warning. I had no patience for men like Leo. If the girl I liked chose a guy like that, I could only pity her. Giving up was my best option. No one was dragging me into the mud. Leo, with his scholarly face, looked furious now. He pointed at me, screaming, “Julian Sterling, what is your problem? Why do you keep harassing Grace? Do you know you’re acting like a homewrecker?” The room exploded with whispers. I could already see the headlines. #Billionaire Accused of Homewrecking #Julian Sterling Publicly Shamed by Grace Gallagher’s Husband My assistant immediately cleared the room and ordered the guests to keep quiet. Annoyed, my tone turned icy. “Mr. Evans, out of respect for the Gallaghers, I’ll overlook your outburst today. But if there’s a next time, you’ll face the consequences.” I signaled security to escort him out. When I got home that night, I found Victoria sitting on my sofa in a red slip dress. She looked up at me with teary eyes. Seeing me, she ran over, her voice sweet and aggrieved. “Julian, I’m jealous.” “Why did she cry like that at the party? What did she mean by that?” I pulled away. “Victoria, who gave you the door code?” Victoria batted her eyelashes, looking pitiful. “Grandpa Sterling told me to move in.” I looked around. My cold apartment was now filled with girlish decorations. Warm and romantic. I frowned. She watched me closely. Seeing my expression, she quickly explained, “Don’t be mad. If you don’t like it, I’ll leave right now.” Chapter 3 She moved to pack her bags. I grabbed her wrist. “Forget it. We’re getting married in a few months anyway.” Her eyes lit up like stars. She looked at me with pure joy. “Are you tired? Want to see the new decorations?” Curious about what else she added, I let her lead me. In the bedroom, an entire wall was covered with our photos. From our first meeting to now, every moment captured. It screamed teenage romance. I chuckled, the corners of my mouth lifting. “I just added a few touches. Do you like it?” Her eyes were full of hope. Like a kitten waiting for a pat. It was hard to believe this girl was the legendary shark of the business world. At 20, her family faced a crisis. She took over and built a commercial empire in five years. The Shen Group skyrocketed, surpassing every other family in the capital. And she was only 25, four years younger than me. In business, she was steady and unreadable. Today, I saw her youthful side. Not wanting to crush her spirit, I said, “The photos are nice.” Victoria froze, a blush spreading across her pale cheeks. She whispered, “We can take more photos like this.” I paused. I realized the photos were intimate, making my compliment sound ambiguous. Awkwardly, I composed myself. “It’s late. I’m going to rest.” I went upstairs quickly. My grandfather allowing Victoria to move in was expected. Since he fell ill and stepped back, the Sterling family had been declining. Even with my best efforts, I was barely holding it together. Restoring our glory wouldn’t be easy. He had pinned his hopes on the Gallaghers, but that failed. Victoria gave him new hope. “Julian, it’s not that I don’t trust you. But to ride the wind, you need leverage. Knowing how to use power makes a wise man. The Shen family is our best partner.” I understood the trade-off. Political marriages were a tool for stability. As long as it helped me, I could accept it. My friend Chris was having a birthday party at a club. When I walked in, the first thing I saw was Grace and Leo sitting together. Chapter 4 She looked at me with resentment, her eyes swirling with complex emotions. I avoided her gaze and sat at the farthest end of the sofa. Chris leaned in, whispering, “Grace insisted on coming. We run in the same circle, I couldn’t say no. Didn’t think she’d bring him.” I didn’t want to talk about it. I handed him a gift box. “Happy Birthday.” He tore it open, eyes lighting up. “Julian, you know me too well!” It was a limited-edition mechanical watch. I pulled a lot of strings to get it. Chris winked. “Julian, you get me so well. Ever consider switching teams?” Others laughed. “Give it up. You can’t compete with Miss Shen.” “I say Julian should take them both. Even days and odd days.” While everyone laughed, Leo suddenly stood up. The laughter died. Everyone looked at each other. He stared at Grace grimly. “Come outside.” Grace stood up silently and followed him. Their argument in the hall was loud enough for everyone to hear. We all listened awkwardly. Leo was yelling. “You’ve been staring at Julian Sterling since we got here! What does that mean? What do you want?” Grace’s voice was cold. “Stop being unreasonable.” “Me? Unreasonable?” Leo laughed bitterly. “I’ll show you unreasonable!” The door flew open. Leo charged in like a madman. He rushed up to me, pointing at Grace. “Julian Sterling! You can have this woman! I don’t want her anymore!” Grace ran in and grabbed his arm. “Are you done being crazy? You’re embarrassing yourself! Let’s go home!” Leo shook her off, screaming hysterically. “Go home and say what? Talk about how you can’t get over Julian? How you secretly pine for him? How you call his name when you’re drunk?” “Ha! I’m embarrassing? Grace, stop acting high and mighty. Who chased who? I warned you I didn’t want your rich people drama!” Grace snapped, eyes red. “Yes, I chased you! But Leo, don’t make me regret it!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389740”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day I was buried in the avalanche, my biological brother saved the usurper—the fake heiress—by slicing through my safety cable. The snow was climbing past my head, my body heat rapidly leaching away, and I screamed at Blake through frozen lips. “Brother! Don’t leave me! Or my adoptive father’s people will flatten this mountain and hunt you down!” I had been back with the Harrington family for a year, playing the meek, agreeable daughter, and had never dared mention my adoptive parents overseas. They didn’t know that the couple who raised me were the commanders of a top-tier international mercenary group, The Vanguard. My adoptive father, Hawk, was a legendary sharpshooter; my mother, T.N.T., was an explosives expert. I was their most favored—their only—princess. But my brother merely smirked and pulled the cable fully back. “Stop making up fairy tales, Sandy.” “You’re a lying country bumpkin. Where are these ‘powerful connections’ you speak of? I brought you skiing despite the embarrassment, and now you’re trying to compete with Ronnie? Don’t you know she can’t handle any kind of shock?” With that, he took the fake heiress by the arm and turned to leave. “Since your adoptive parents are so powerful, why don’t you have them send a chopper for you?” I watched the last sliver of light disappear above me, and with the last ounce of strength, I pressed the red panic button on my satellite tracker. Blake didn’t know. That single signal would mark this entire mountain range as his grave. Blake’s silhouette vanished into the blizzard. All that was left was the howling wind, mocking my own foolish yearning. I strained to open my eyes. Only Blake’s personal assistant, Gary, was near me. He looked down, his eyes a conflicted mess. A primal spark of hope, the sheer instinct to survive, flared in my chest. “He… help me…” Gary’s hand started to reach out, stalled in the frigid air, and then retreated. “Miss Sandy, I’m sorry.” “Mr. Harrington said Miss Ronnie was extremely distressed and that everyone needs to escort her down immediately. He said the avalanche has stopped and you’re not buried deep. He mentioned your ‘rural background’ makes you hardy—that a little snow won’t kill you. He said you should just calm down.” Gary looked away, a flicker of shame in his eyes. One simple tug from him, and I could have climbed out. But he did nothing. He chose to obey that blind, entitled fool of a CEO, abandoning a living person in this icy tomb. The sound of his footsteps—the distinctive crunch, crunch on the packed snow—faded into the distance. I was officially the discard. I strained every muscle, trying to reach the hard object sewn into my thermal underwear. My mother, T.N.T., had given it to me before I came home to the Harringtons. Sandy, she had said, this is your lifeline. Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to. Because once you do, the peace—the delusion—is over. I had laughed then, saying with my real parents and brother, I’d never need it. Now, I realized what a ridiculous, pathetic joke that was. I used the last of my failing strength to press the red button. Beep. The indicator light flickered faintly twice, then went dark. The satellite signal was sent. I didn’t know if I could hold on until they crossed continents to find me. After all, this was a remote, restricted zone because of the avalanche. Just then, my phone screen, pressed against my chest, suddenly lit up. A unique vibration frequency. It was a message on the “Vanguard Family” group chat. Even with the weakest signal, the message found its way through on this special frequency. My brother, Jax, sent an image. He was wiping down a heavy-caliber sniper rifle—the barrel was a cold, black gleam. The caption was simple: [Sandy, location received.] [We were just wrapping up an assignment on the border, only two hundred miles out.] [This mountain range is beautiful. Perfect for a grave.] I tried to laugh, but my face wouldn’t move. I wanted to reply, but my fingers were too frozen to tap the screen. My consciousness was beginning to blur. In the haze, I was back in those years overseas. A place chaotic and lethal, yet brimming with fierce life. I was five when I was kidnapped and ended up dumped near the border. It was Hawk who dug me out of a pile of bodies. He complained I was dirty, but he gave me half a stale energy bar. Hawk, my adoptive father, a quiet man and the world’s best sharpshooter, taught me how to strip and reassemble a Glock in three seconds flat. He said a gun is a partner, more reliable than any person. My adoptive mother, T.N.T., was an elegant psycho. She taught me how to make liquid explosives using common household cleaners. She said, if anyone ever crosses you, blow them up. Don’t bother with decorum. And Jax. My adopted brother who climbed out of his own graveyard. He always saved the best rations for me, then broke the hands and feet of anyone who dared make me cry. I had walked away from that life—that existence on a razor’s edge, entirely encased in a love so absolute—for a normal life. For the warmth of “blood ties.” I thought that shared DNA would secure me a real, normal family. I took off the mask of “The Red Fox” and played the timid, fragile true heiress, Sandy Sinclair. Once, Blake handed me a cup of water when I had a fever. I had been so moved, so tearful, believing it was the warmth of home. The reality was a shattering slap in the face. I later learned that water was Ronnie’s, and she had tossed it to me because it was too hot for her delicate hands. A jolt of agonizing pain dragged me back from the memories. It wasn’t the warmth of rescue; it was the sharp, metallic crunch against bone. CRACK. A rescue worker’s iron shovel slammed hard into my thigh. I choked on a silent scream as my consciousness snapped back. I was being roughly dragged out of the snow pile. There was no stretcher, no sign of emergency medical care. The search team member stared at me with unconcealed disgust. “Tough one, aren’t you? Didn’t die after all that time buried.” “You wasted half an hour of our time. Mr. Harrington is furious.” He didn’t even attempt basic first aid or wound stabilization. He just threw me onto a flat sled used for hauling gear. Bouncing and jostling, I was dragged back to the main camp. The medical tent was right there. Warm, yellow light poured out, accompanied by the low roar of a forced-air heater. Two bodyguards grabbed me and hauled me inside. The heat was overwhelming, but it wasn’t for me. Ronnie Chandler, wrapped in thick cashmere blankets, sat in the only cushioned chair. She was surrounded by doctors and nurses, all of them looking frantic. “Miss Ronnie, is the scratch painful?” “Hurry! Bring the best antibacterial cream!” I struggled to lift my eyelids. Ronnie had a barely visible scrape on her finger, not even a drop of blood. And that single, precious heater was aimed directly at her hand. I was soaked through, the skin and muscle on my thigh ripped open, bleeding onto the muddy corner of the tent floor. Ignored. Gary, the assistant, hurried past, stopped, and saw my condition. He paused, then tossed a grimy, used towel at me. “Wipe yourself up. Don’t mess up the floor.” “Mr. Harrington is with Miss Ronnie, helping with her trauma counseling. Don’t cause trouble. Stay in this corner and don’t move.” I clenched my jaw, staring at the filthy towel. The last flicker of hope in my eyes went out. I was dumped in a derelict storage room. It was drafty and barely warmer than outside. No doctor, no medicine. I leaned against the cold wall, my thigh still leaking blood. The door swung open. Ronnie, dressed in a pink silk hospital gown, walked in. In her hand, she casually twirled a pair of medical surgical scissors. Her face was dominated by the chilling smile of a victor. The weak, delicate persona was gone, replaced by a look of sheer malice and calculating cruelty. She dismissed the guards outside, then locked the door. “My, my, Sister. You really have nine lives, don’t you?” Ronnie walked to me and crouched down. The tip of the scissors traced lightly across my bruised, cut-up face. The sensation was spine-crawling. “Did you know? That safety cable? It wasn’t an accident.” She leaned in close, whispering in my ear. “I sliced it halfway through with a razor blade the night before.” “And the avalanche?” “I had someone set off a micro-detonation at a specific stress point.” I snapped my head up, glaring at her. Even with my suspicions, hearing her confess to mass murder just to win an argument was absurd. Ronnie read my thoughts and giggled hysterically. “What’s the worry? I have my brother to protect me. I just wanted to see who he would choose when faced with life or death.” “The result is obvious, isn’t it?” She tapped my cheek with the scissors, her eyes full of contempt. “You, the ‘true’ heiress, lost everything. In this family, blood means nothing. Only performance matters.” I wanted to lift my hand and tear her throat out. But I was so weak I couldn’t even manage the effort. Ronnie was elated by my helplessness. “Don’t blame me. Blame yourself for showing up.” “Those so-called adoptive parents of yours must be utter trash, right? I heard they operated overseas? Scavengers from some refugee camp?” The mention of my family shifted the expression in my eyes. It was the look of a predator staring at its prey. I managed a cold, chilling smile. “You will regret that.” Ronnie flinched, startled by the sheer, unadulterated killing intent she saw—a look she’d never encountered in her privileged bubble. She was instantly enraged, raising her hand and delivering a hard, brutal slap across my face. SMACK! The blow was so powerful my ears rang. “You filthy wench! How dare you glare at me!” She stood up, planting her high heel directly onto my wounded thigh. She twisted her foot, grinding the heel in. “Agh—!” A low, guttural cry escaped me as the wound burst open again, fresh blood pooling on the floor. Ronnie rubbed the sole of her shoe on my soiled clothing with a look of disgust. “Blake will have you eliminated soon. Your existence is an inconvenience, a threat.” “Once you’re dead, everything in the Harrington family will go back to being mine.” She raised the scissors, seemingly ready to stab my eye. Just then, frantic footsteps sounded outside the door. Ronnie’s reaction was lightning-fast. She dropped the scissors, scrambled to the floor, and tore at her hair. In an instant, she was the trembling, wide-eyed porcelain doll again. The door burst open. Blake strode in. His face instantly darkened, ready to rain fury. “What in God’s name happened!” Ronnie crawled to him like a desperate refugee, burying herself in his arms. The tears were instantaneous, flowing thick and fast. “Brother! Sister… she’s gone mad!” She held up her perfectly intact hand, trembling as she pointed at me. “I came in to bring her some medicine, out of the kindness of my heart.” “But she woke up and grabbed the scissors, trying to stab me! She said she’d ruin my face! That I stole her life!” “Brother, I’m so scared. My chest hurts so much…” With a dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes and went limp in his arms, expertly feigning a faint. Oscar owed her an award. Blake didn’t even glance at me in the corner. His world centered entirely on the ‘innocent’ woman in his arms. “Ronnie! Ronnie, talk to me!” He shouted, frantic, then turned to me. His eyes were pure, murderous hatred. “Sandy Sinclair! You vicious snake! If Ronnie suffers one single consequence from this, I’ll make you pay with your life!” He marched over and delivered a vicious kick directly to my bleeding thigh wound. The searing pain made my vision swim, and cold sweat instantly soaked my back. A doctor rushed in. He took one look at the scene and immediately understood the assignment. He went through the motions of checking Ronnie. “Mr. Harrington, this is serious!” “Miss Ronnie is suffering from extreme shock, causing myocardial ischemia! If we don’t get blood into her system immediately, it could lead to heart failure!” “But we’re too remote! The camp has no blood bank reserves…” The lie was patently ridiculous. Shock required a blood transfusion? It was a blatant demand. Blake’s gaze locked onto me, immediately vicious. He knew I was O-negative, the universal donor. “Draw hers!” Blake didn’t hesitate, pointing right at me and ordering the doctor. “Whatever it takes to save Ronnie! Drain her dry if you have to!” I weakly raised my head, looking at the man who shared my blood. “I… I just survived an avalanche… I’ve lost too much blood…” “To draw more now… is murder…” My voice was a choked, rational plea. Blake merely sneered, crouching down and grabbing a handful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Your life means nothing!” “You have a cheap, stubborn life! A little blood won’t kill you! But if Ronnie doesn’t wake up, I’ll have your entire family—all of them—pay the price!” He pinned down my thrashing arm and motioned to the doctor to proceed. The doctor, unblinking, produced a thick-gauge needle. He plunged it directly into my shriveled, hypothermic vein. No cleaning, no sterilization, just a violent jab. My bright red blood rushed into the tube, quickly filling the donation bag. As the life force drained out, my vision blurred. I was freezing to the bone, my heartbeat a faint flutter. Ronnie, nestled in Blake’s embrace, secretly opened one eye. She gave me a look of pure, malicious glee, like a butcher watching a piece of livestock being bled out. I smiled back. It was a smile of utter, cold release. Watching that bag of my own life-blood, I finally understood. The supposed bond of kinship was just a deadly shackle. In the final fading moments of my consciousness, I used the last of my strength to call out to the void: “Dad! Mom!” The next second. A monstrous, ear-splitting sound ripped through the air. The entire wall of the storage room was split open by a controlled detonation! Rubble and shards of wood flew everywhere. The doctor, still clutching the half-full blood bag, was flung backward by the blast wave. The bag burst on the floor, spraying blood directly onto Blake’s face. As the dust settled, three figures in state-of-the-art black tactical gear stood silhouetted in the doorway. They looked like gods of war. My mother, T.N.T., held the latest C4 detonator, her red lips curved in an elegant, maniacal smile. My father, Hawk, had a sniper rifle shouldered, the infrared laser sight locked dead center on Blake’s forehead. And Jax spun a massive Nepalese kukri knife in his hand. “Sandy.” Jax’s voice held a chilling, hungry excitement. “Looks like your brother isn’t just disobedient, he’s a vampire. Should I just drain him for you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389756”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was Christmas Eve, and I was watching the snow fall with my daughter when my phone vibrated. “Aubrey.” The long-lost sound of that name—my name—made the knife I was using to slice oranges stop dead in mid-air. Five years ago, my parents and my brother had conspired to kick me out of the house, all to appease their precious adopted daughter, the fake Harrington princess. They’d even publicly disowned me. I couldn’t fathom why Garrett Harrington, the golden boy, the high-and-mighty prince of the entire dynasty, would condescend to call me now. “Who is this?” I asked, my voice flat. Silence stretched for a moment, then his voice came back, thick with a pathetic sob and a plea. “I’m at your gate, Aubrey. The snow is heavy. Please… just see me, big brother. Just for a minute.” “Mom is dying. She wants to see you one last time.” My gate? I peered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our den. Beyond the elaborate iron gates of our estate, the man who had once been the most arrogant person I knew was kneeling in the snow. He was covered in a fresh layer of white, utterly humbled. I saw the purple tinge of his exposed skin, but all I could feel was the echo of my own despair on the night they drove me out. I turned, letting my husband pull me into a hug, and spoke into the phone with a chilling lack of emotion. “My apologies, but you know I haven’t had a family for a very long time.” With that, I yanked the heavy velvet drapes shut, obliterating the image of the man kneeling in the storm. Done. Cut him out. 1 “Who was it, Aubrey?” My husband, Damon Blackwell, walked over and held a perfectly peeled orange slice to my mouth. I bit down. The sweet, sharp burst of citrus in my mouth was just strong enough to suppress the strange, almost unwelcome flicker of anxiety in my chest. “Insurance,” I lied casually, placing the phone face-down on the marble counter. The snow outside was growing heavier, turning the glass into a thick, white canvas. That figure, kneeling beyond the gates, was now just a blurry black dot. But I knew Garrett Harrington was still there. The same brother who had pushed me down a flight of stairs while I had a 104-degree fever, just because his precious Joss was having a tantrum. The same one who had pointed a finger at my face and called me a “cuckoo snake that had taken another’s nest.” Now, he was kneeling like a whipped dog at my door. “That’s a persistent insurance agent,” Damon murmured, glancing toward the window. His eyes narrowed slightly. He walked to the window, lightly nudged a gap in the curtain. “Looks like this salesman is planning to freeze to death on our property.” I barely shrugged, changing the channel to a holiday movie marathon. “Let him. It’s bad luck, yes, but we can just sell the house next year.” Damon let out a soft laugh and returned to my side, his long arm wrapping around me. “Whatever my wife wants.” My phone vibrated again. A tireless death knell. Exasperated, I picked it up, ready to block the number. A message popped up—a photo attachment. It was a picture from an ICU. Eleanor Harrington, once the picture of polished, aristocratic grace, was now skeletal and connected to a web of tubes. Her face was the color of old parchment. Garrett’s subsequent message flashed: “Aubrey, Mom really is fading.” “The doctor says tonight is it.” “Joss isn’t here. Mom keeps calling your name. She wants you.” “I’m begging you. Just come and look. After that, you can take any revenge you want.” My finger hovered over the screen. Revenge? I was long past that age. Five years ago, on a night as snowy as this one, I was thrown out of the Harrington estate. Penniless, burning up with a monstrous fever, I slept under a bridge. That night, I left every tear, every bit of Aubrey Harrington I used to be, freezing on that pavement. “Mommy, I want that red candy!” My daughter, Hazel’s, soft voice yanked me back. I put the phone down, smiling as I unwrapped a candy and fed it to her. Looking at her innocent face, I realized that, yes, some things did need closure. Not just for me, but to truly put the ghost of the Aubrey who died in that snow five years ago to rest. I stood up and reached for the coat hanging on the rack. Damon didn’t ask a single question. He simply picked up his car keys, helped me into my coat, and wrapped my scarf carefully around my neck. “Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s see what kind of a performance they’re putting on.” The heavy door swung open. A blast of cold air and snow hit us. Garrett was frozen stiff. Hearing the sound, he lifted his head with agonizing slowness. His eyebrows and lashes were thick with white frost. The moment he saw me, his previously dead eyes flared with a desperate light. “Aubrey…” He tried to stand, but his legs were frozen and numb. He pitched forward, falling face-first into the snow. The same man who had been the swaggering, untouchable Harrington heir. The man who had slapped me in public to defend Jocelyn. Now, he didn’t even have the strength to stand up. I looked down at him, my expression utterly devoid of warmth, like I was staring at a broken piece of rusted metal. “Garrett.” My voice was quiet, cutting clearly through the howling wind. “Lead the way.” If they wanted to play the dutiful son and the repentant mother, I’d indulge them. This was the final, ugly curtain call the Harringtons owed me. 2 The hospital corridor reeked of acrid antiseptic. Garrett was shaking the entire way—I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the proximity of death. Damon walked beside me, his hand clasping mine, his palm dry and warm, an anchor in the sterile cold. We stopped outside the VIP suite. Garrett turned to me, his eyes wide with pathetic supplication. “Aubrey, when we go in… please don’t upset Mom.” “She can’t take any stress right now.” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. In the dead quiet of the hallway, the sound was harsh and brittle. “Garrett, are you missing the point?” I smoothed the cuff of my coat, looking at him with detached boredom. “You’re the one who was kneeling in the snow begging me to come.” “I’m not here to play the role of the devoted daughter. If you want a performance, that’ll cost you. And it’s a price you can’t afford.” Garrett’s face drained of color. His lips trembled, but he didn’t have a single word of rebuttal. He pushed the door open. The room was warm, almost oppressively so. The rhythmic beeping and dripping of various machines wove together a soundtrack of finality. On the bed, Eleanor Harrington was gasping, struggling for air. Hearing the door, she labored to turn her head. When her cloudy eyes landed on me, they actually welled up with tears. “Aubrey… my Aubrey…” She stretched out a skeletal hand, grasping for empty air. “My… daughter…” To an outsider, the scene would have been heartbreaking. But I was Aubrey. I was the daughter she had called a “bad omen,” the one she’d locked in the basement for three days and nights just to humor her precious adopted girl. I stood at the foot of the bed, unwilling to move closer. I was looking at a stranger about to die. “I’ve seen the person,” I said, turning my gaze to Garrett. My voice was cold. “Anything else? If not, I’m leaving. We have a holiday dinner to make at home.” Before Garrett could speak, a person stood up from the sofa in the corner. The lighting had been dim, and I hadn’t noticed her. The woman sitting in the shadows, peeling an apple. Jocelyn. The usurper, the fake princess, the one who had ruined the first half of my life. She was wearing a long, simple white dress, her eyes red, as if she’d been crying for hours. “Sister.” Her voice was soft and weak, melting like sugar. “How can you speak to Mom like that?” “She’s so sick, can’t you just let go of the past?” “It was all my fault before. I made you angry. If you want to blame someone, blame me, but please don’t stress Mom…” As she spoke, she started to drop to her knees. It was the same manipulative performance she’d perfected five years ago. The moment she knelt and cried, the whole family would immediately conclude that I was the aggressor. And sure enough. Garrett, who had just been wallowing in guilt over me, instinctively lunged forward to catch her. “Joss! Your health! Don’t move!” That sudden, unfeigned concern and worry—it wasn’t an act. I watched the ridiculous scene, only feeling amusement. This was Garrett’s claim that “Jocelyn isn’t here”? This was the “just see you one last time” plea? Damon suddenly stepped in front of me. He didn’t even look at Jocelyn. He spoke directly to Garrett, his voice laced with ice. “Since your devoted daughter is here to fulfill her duties, my wife is no longer needed.” “Aubrey, we’re leaving.” Damon put an arm around me, ready to turn. “Stop right there!” A furious roar came from the adjoining suite in the room. Arthur Harrington, the head of the family, my biological father, strode out. He was still well-preserved, his authority intimidating. But the look in his eyes when he saw me was the same blend of contempt and disdain. “Since you’re here, who told you you could leave before finishing what you came for?” Arthur pointed at me, his tone as commanding as if he were addressing a disobedient subordinate. “Your mother held on just to wait for you.” “If you have a shred of decency left, you’ll go sign the papers now!” Sign? I frowned. What papers? A will? A DNR? Garrett’s eyes suddenly darted away, unable to meet mine. Jocelyn lowered her head, a strange, faint smirk playing on her lips. A wave of dread washed over me. “Sign what?” I asked. Arthur scoffed and slammed a document down from the bedside table. SMACK. It landed right in front of me. “The Organ Donation Consent Form.” 3 The room instantly fell into a terrifying silence. I looked down at the document on the floor. The bold typeface of the title seemed to twist into a malicious grin. Living Kidney Donor Consent Form. In the space for the recipient, two names were starkly written: Jocelyn Harrington. I snapped my head up to look at Eleanor. She was still crying. But in her eyes, there was none of the remorse or motherly love she had manufactured moments ago. Only an intense, greedy, almost crazed desperation. “Aubrey…” Her voice trembled as she spoke the most cruel words imaginable. “Jocelyn… she has kidney failure…” “The doctors say… your kidney is the best match…” “Mom is dying… I’m leaving you…” “Can you… can you take care of Jocelyn for me? For your mother?” “Give her your kidney… Just this one thing… to fulfill my last wish…” Boom. Something detonated in my skull. So that was it. That was the whole plan! The deathbed repentance, the kneeling in the snow, the last-gasp plea for a reunion. All of it was a lie. All of it was bait. They hadn’t tricked me into coming home for love. They had tricked me into coming back to harvest my organs. What was I to them? A standby blood bank? A mobile organ depot for Jocelyn? Five years ago, she needed blood, and despite my own weak state, I gave her 400cc. She repaid me by claiming I pushed her down the stairs. Now, five years later, they wanted to lie and manipulate me onto an operating table for her! I turned to Garrett. The man who had knelt in the snow for three hours, claiming, “Please see your brother.” He was now staring intently at the tips of his own shoes. “You knew?” I asked him. My voice was quiet, like a dissipating wisp of smoke. Garrett flinched violently and finally raised his head. His eyes were red, and his response was full of self-pitying justification. “Aubrey, Joss is so young…” “She can’t let her life be ruined like this.” “You’re the older sister. You’re healthy. Losing one kidney won’t kill you.” “And… and if you agree, I can split my Harrington Corp. shares with you! Dad and Mom will forgive your mistakes and let you back into the family trust!” Ha. Ha, ha. I laughed until tears stung my eyes. Back into the family trust? Who the hell wanted a place on that decaying, toxic ledger? “Garrett Harrington.” I walked toward him, one deliberate step after another. With every step, a final thread of whatever biological kinship I still felt snapped. “When you were kneeling in the snow, were you thinking, ‘Once I get her inside, she can’t escape’?” “When I opened the door, were you laughing at my stupidity?” Garrett’s face was chalk-white, and he instinctively backed away. “No, Aubrey… I really wanted you to come home…” “Home?” I snatched the document off the floor and slammed it, hard, into his face. The sharp edge of the paper sliced his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. “This is your welcome-home gift?” “Cut a piece of my body out to give life to your precious little sister?” “Garrett, you disgust me.” On the bed, Eleanor suddenly broke into a violent, rattling cough. The monitors let out a shrill alarm. Jocelyn shrieked and rushed to the bedside. “Mom! Mom, don’t stress!” She spun around, tears streaming down her face, and pointed a condemning finger at me. “Aubrey Harrington! Do you want to kill her, too?” “It’s just one kidney! How can you be so selfish?” “Mom is dying! This is her one final wish! Can’t you grant her even that?” Arthur, shaking with rage, raised his hand and charged at me. “You wicked brat! I’ll beat you, you ungrateful daughter!” “If you won’t sign it, then don’t blame me for using force!” “Guards! Tie her down and get her onto an operating table!” With his shout, four burly men burst through the door from the hallway. This was clearly an ambush, a setup. If the soft approach failed, they were prepared to use force. Garrett stood by, closing his eyes, tacitly consenting to the coming assault. “Aubrey, don’t blame your brother.” “Joss really can’t wait.” The four bodyguards closed in. I stood my ground, unmoving. Because I knew I didn’t have to move. A long, elegant hand shot out and caught Arthur’s descending palm in a vice grip. Damon stood in front of me. He was a mountain, utterly impassable. He applied a tiny bit of pressure, and Arthur cried out in pain, stumbling backward in an undignified mess. “Touch my wife?” Damon’s voice was no longer the gentle one I knew. It was utterly devoid of warmth, radiating a chilling, predatory threat. He scanned the room. Where his gaze landed, the four bodyguards froze, unwilling to take another step. “It seems, Arthur, that your business hasn’t been doing well these past few years.” “But you’ve certainly mastered the methods of a common thug.” Arthur clutched his wrist, staring at Damon in shocked disbelief. “Who the hell are you? Do you think you can interfere with Harrington family business?” “Who am I?” Damon gave a slow, chilling smile. He deliberately pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped the hand that had touched Arthur. Then, he dropped the cloth into the waste bin. “Allow me to introduce myself.” “I’m Damon Blackwell.” “I am also the largest shareholder in this hospital.” “And I am… the ‘mysterious buyer’ who is currently acquiring, and about to dismantle, Harrington Corporation.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389773”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was Lucas Sterling’s secretary for seven years. And his secret lover for nine. Until one morning, when I was twenty-nine, I woke up in his bed. He casually ordered: “Keep your schedule clear in April. I’m getting married.” I froze. My eyes instantly stung with tears. He laughed, a dry, amused sound. “You didn’t think I was marrying you, did you?” I asked him, “Then… what am I?” He pulled me into his arms, soothing me like a child. “You know what the Sterling family is like. If you married in, you’d just suffer.” “It’s freer for you to be kept on the side. It protects you.” “Babe, it’s just a business merger. It won’t affect us.” “You’re still the one I love most.” In that moment, I suddenly stopped loving him. 1 At 7:00 AM sharp, the alarm went off. I kept my eyes closed and pushed against the warm chest behind me. “Wake up, Lucas…” The arm around my waist tightened, pulling me back into his embrace. The heat of his body pressed insistently against mine. My body still ached from last night’s frenzy. I rasped, “We’re going to be late…” “I don’t care…” He lowered his head, kissing my neck, his voice husky with sleep. “I’ll be quick…” We were always compatible in bed. His stamina was terrifying. An hour later. My legs were trembling as I tied his tie. He reached out, smoothing my messy hair, his tone lazy and satisfied. “Still mad?” I glared at him, a flush still lingering on my cheeks. “My perfect attendance record is ruined, Mr. Sterling.” His fingers traced the red marks on my collarbone, his voice teasing. “I’ll pay you double. Okay?” I slapped his hand away. “We are seriously late!” He was over thirty; where did he get this energy? I straightened my expression and recited his schedule for the day. “Signing ceremony at ten. Lunch with CEO Lee at noon. Executive meeting at two. Construction partnership talk with Mr. Chen at four. Industry gala dinner at six-thirty.” “Mm.” He nodded, fastening his watch. He was back to his usual cold, ascetic self. He glanced at his wrist. “Oh, right.” As if remembering something trivial, he ordered: “Keep your schedule clear in April. I’m getting married.” My hand jerked violently. The half-formed Windsor knot unraveled instantly. I didn’t react for a second. He just said… married… Was he… proposing? My eyes went red, tears welling up uncontrollably. After nearly a decade of running this marathon of love, this day had finally come. “Wait?” His voice drifted down from above, sounding awkward. He looked at me, frowned, and then chuckled. “You didn’t think I was marrying you, did you?” It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I froze. The messy sheets, the lingering scent of sex—it all suddenly felt blindingly offensive. He paused, then explained: “It’s Paige.” Paige Rockefeller. The eldest daughter of the Rockefeller family. A spoiled heiress, raised in luxury, a perfect match for his status. Silence stretched for a long time. I stared at him blankly, my lips trembling as I finally managed to speak. “Then… what about me?” He turned his head slightly, avoiding my gaze. “You know the Old Man’s health isn’t great. And my cousin Liam is making moves. The company needs to go public.” “Merging with the Rockefellers is the best strategic choice.” He paused, then looked back at me, his eyes softening with reassurance. “Nina, I’m doing this for our future too.” Our future. How nice that sounded. “By the way, Paige has a bit of a temper. Just yield to her a bit in the future. Don’t take it personally.” He patted my head. “Of course, I won’t let you suffer, either.” I looked out the window. The festive New Year decorations mixed with the sunlight, piercing my eyes until they burned. I looked straight at him, my heart clenching so tight I couldn’t breathe. “So, you never thought about marrying me, did you?” A flash of impatience crossed his face. “Nina, is that piece of paper really that important to you?” “You know what my family is like. If you married in, they’d eat you alive.” “Keeping you on the side gives you freedom. It’s for your protection.” I smiled bitterly. So this was his “thoughtfulness.” His parents had always looked down on me, the scholarship girl from a small town. No matter how successful I became, in their eyes, I was just a gold digger climbing the ladder. I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face. “Lucas, what am I to you after all these years?” “Your mistress? Or a pet canary in a gilded cage?” He sighed helplessly, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. “What are you thinking? Have you ever seen anyone keep a mistress for ten years?” He reached out and pulled me into his arms. “Babe, it’s just a business marriage. I promise I won’t touch her.” “You’re still the one I love most.” “All these years, my heart has been yours. Have I ever strayed?” “Look at the people in our circle—who else is as loyal as I am?” He wasn’t wrong. People in his circle enjoyed top-tier resources. Open marriages, a revolving door of mistresses—it was the norm. But Lucas was different. Everyone knew the CEO was bewitched by his little secretary, cherishing her for nine years. 2 I first met Lucas when I was a senior in high school. He had just taken over the family business and came to our school for a charity event. I was the student representative presenting flowers to him. Suddenly, my father stormed onto the campus. He grabbed me and demanded I drop out. The crops were ready for harvest; I was needed at home. After the harvest, once I turned eighteen, he planned to marry me off for a dowry. At the age when self-esteem is most fragile, I was slapped twice in front of the entire school. Just as despair was suffocating me, a cold, clear voice descended like salvation. “How much? I’ll pay it.” I looked up, dazed. Lucas was in his early twenties then, sharp-featured and possessing a calmness far beyond his years. The dowry was $8,000. He paid $16,000 to buy out my relationship with my father. Like a god descending, he pulled me out of the mud. I didn’t know then that $16,000 wouldn’t even buy a single screw in the watch he wore on his wrist. His casual act of kindness changed a rural girl’s entire life. Since then, his assistant wired money to my account every year for tuition. And I never saw him again. In the long years that followed, I silently sketched his image in my heart. Until I was 20. I had saved enough money to pay him back. I didn’t have his contact info, so I sat in the lobby of Sterling Corp, hoping for luck. It was the dead of winter. After waiting three hours, I finally saw his car slowly approach. “Mr. Sterling!” I stood up and ran forward. He glanced sideways at me and frowned. The next second, the window rolled up, cutting him off from me. He didn’t remember me. In my panic, I rushed forward, and my fingers got caught in the closing window. Pain shot through my hand. “Mr. Sterling, I’m Nina Song. You sponsored me three years ago.” The window rolled down slowly. He turned, his gaze landing on me. I handed him the envelope full of cash, my fingers trembling from the pain. “I don’t need your sponsorship anymore. This is the money I owe you.” “I’ll pay back the $16,000 from back then slowly.” I bowed to him. “Thank you for your kindness. You saved me. Good things will happen to you.” “Oh, it’s you.” He looked me over, his eyes stopping on my red, swollen fingers. “Get in. Let’s go to the hospital.” “No need, Mr. Sterling, I… I’m fine.” I clenched my fingers in embarrassment and stepped back instinctively. Back then, my nose was red from the cold, my clothes cost less than twenty bucks total. I radiated awkwardness and poverty. I clashed violently with the luxury of his car. Eventually, his driver got out and opened the door for me. I sat stiffly in the seat. It was warm inside, a different world from the freezing cold outside. I looked at my pilling sweater and worn boots, shrinking into myself. The warm air blew on my face, mixing with shame until I blushed to my ears. He broke the silence. “You saved this much in two years of college?” I nodded, face burning as I explained. “Yes, I get scholarships every year. And this year I went south to buy clothes wholesale to sell at the campus night market. I made a bit of profit.” He raised an eyebrow, a flash of appreciation in his eyes. “You have a good head for business, kid.” He paused, then asked: “Interested in interning at Sterling Corp this winter break?” I couldn’t believe my ears. I nodded frantically. “Really? I’d love to! Thank you, Mr. Sterling!” Sterling Corp was a titan in the industry, a dream destination for top graduates. 3 That winter, I became a lowly intern in the Secretary’s Office. I fetched coffee and ran errands for Lucas. He was surrounded by elites. Compared to them, I was an ugly duckling who had wandered into a flock of swans. Lucas had incredibly high standards. By day, I ran until my feet blistered, daring not to slack off for a second. By night, after colleagues left, I stayed to learn. One evening, I was still at my computer long after everyone had gone. Outside, the city lights had come on without me noticing. “Why haven’t you clocked out?” A deep voice sounded behind me. I spun around in panic. He stood tall, the city skyline glittering behind him like a halo. “What are you reading?” He leaned in slightly, his eyes scanning the terms on my screen: “Private Equity,” “Options,” “Leverage Effect.” I explained nervously: “I heard you talking to clients today and didn’t understand a lot of it, so I wanted to teach myself…” He nodded slightly, a faint smile touching his lips. “It’s good to be studious.” He turned and pulled a few books from his shelf. “Read these instead.” Then he tapped my desk. “It’s late. Go home. I don’t have a hobby of exploiting employees.” We went downstairs together, only to run into a male classmate who had been pursuing me. I had rejected him clearly many times, but he was relentless. He had even tracked me to my workplace. “Nina! I waited so long for you. Dinner?” I was mortified. After getting rid of him, I apologized to Lucas repeatedly. “Mr. Sterling, he won’t come back. I promise it won’t affect my work.” I was terrified of leaving a bad impression. He raised an eyebrow, curious. “Suitor?” “Sort of…” I muttered awkwardly. He tilted his head slightly, looking at me. “Do you know the best way to reject someone?” I looked at him blankly and shook my head. The corners of his mouth curved up in a half-smile. “Tell them you have a boyfriend.” “But I don’t…” I replied instinctively. “What kind of boyfriend do you like?” he asked. “I don’t know…” My fingers twisted together nervously. He lowered his head, looking straight into my eyes. “Is someone a few years older okay?” I avoided his gaze in a panic. His eyes burned into me as he asked: “Is someone like me okay?” Handsome, rich, successful. For a naive girl just stepping into the world, every trait was a critical hit. And maybe, I had already fallen the moment I looked up at him at eighteen. I didn’t understand why he would be interested in someone as broke and boring as me. Maybe it was a whim, a taste of something fresh. I never expected that I would walk by his side from age 20 through nearly a decade of my youth. Only to end up loving in vain. Perhaps I should have foreseen this the moment I walked toward him. 4 “Miss Song, I hope you understand your position.” That was something he said to me once during a fight. At work, we were boss and subordinate. If I made a mistake and he scolded me until I cried, I had to take it. After work, he would hold me and say, “You can’t talk back to your boss, but you can talk back to your boyfriend.” That was the “position” he spoke of. Back then, I craved his warmth, drowning in this contradictory, complex relationship. Now, his fiancée said the exact same words to me. “Miss Song, I hope you understand your position.” When Paige appeared at the company, she caused quite a stir. Previously, to avoid gossip, Lucas never officially acknowledged our relationship. But the subconscious gestures, the looks exchanged—everyone knew. Ironically, I was the last person to know Lucas was getting married. “I thought Nina would finally get her happy ending. Turns out the boss marries whoever he wants.” “Nine years with the same woman? Even if she’s a goddess, he’s probably bored.” “No comparison. Nina’s pretty, but standing next to her, the class difference is obvious.” “Yeah, she’s old money. That Birkin she’s holding? Only five in the world.” VP Lee, who had always hated me, whispered loudly with some employees. The volume was perfectly calibrated for me to hear. Paige sat on the sofa in the CEO’s office, exquisite from head to toe. A Chanel suit that would look matronly on anyone else looked tailored and chic on her. She oozed old money. She looked me up and down, then let out a light laugh. “I’ve known Lucas for years. He’s like this. He’ll eat the same dish forever.” “It doesn’t mean the dish is good. He’s just used to it and too lazy to switch.” She tilted her chin up, looking down at me. “Speaking of which, eating too much fast food is bad for your health.” “Don’t you agree, Miss Song?” I stood there, nails digging into my palms, lips trembling, unable to say a word. “Lucas has only had you these past years. His private life is clean enough. If you know your place, I won’t give you trouble.” “But—” She paused, her gaze locking onto my face, shaking her head with a frown. “You’re almost thirty, right? I’ve never seen a mistress this old.” “How many more years do you think you have with Lucas? When your youth fades, will he still be interested?” “The world isn’t short of young faces. What makes you think you can keep him as a mistress for life?” She narrowed her eyes, enjoying my humiliation. “Secretary by day, mistress by night. You really are a multi-tasker, Miss Song.” I fought back the stinging in my nose, my voice shaking. “Miss Rockefeller, Lucas and I… it’s not the kind of relationship you described.” For nine years, aside from work, he hadn’t hidden our relationship. He took me to meet his friends. They called me “sister-in-law.” We lived together, like a normal couple building a life. Paige scoffed. “Miss Song, you’ve lived the good life for so long you’ve forgotten where you came from.” “A charity case who climbed into her sponsor’s bed using her looks. A social climber.” “We all know how much effort that took.” “You followed a man for nine years. Did he ever promise you anything?” She stepped closer, the mockery in her eyes intensifying. “You think because you went to a few parties and got called ‘sister-in-law,’ you’re actually Mrs. Sterling?” “Wake up. The Sterlings won’t let a village girl in the front door.” “He’s marrying me because we match. It’s a union of family interests. What do you have?” “Men aren’t stupid. Would he throw away his empire for you?” She stared at my red-rimmed eyes with disgust. “Don’t go crying to Lucas. Sterling Corp needs the Rockefellers right now. It’s his honor that I chose him.” “Men are all the same. I picked Lucas because he’s handsome and cleaner than the rest.” She paused, issuing a cold warning. “I don’t care about the past. From now on, whenever you’re in front of me, tuck your tail between your legs.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389789”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Before they were married, I was walking down the street with my brother. His girlfriend mistook me for his mistress and punched me in the face. My eye socket shattered, and I lost sight in one eye. Her excuse? She laughed and stuck out her tongue. “Sorry, my eyesight is bad. I misjudged. I’m marrying your brother soon, so we’re family. Let’s not hold grudges, okay?” My mother and brother told me to let it go. They said I shouldn’t ruin his happiness. After they got married, I was taking a shower in my own home. My sister-in-law kicked the door open and poured a pot of boiling water over me. I suffered severe burns all over my body. She cried and threw herself into my brother’s arms. “I just love you too much! I can’t stand any other woman near you!” My brother was moved by her “love” and forgave her. I was dumped in a hospital by my family and left to rot. I died of sepsis. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before I went shopping with my brother. 1 “Hannah’s birthday is coming up. I need to get her a gift. Sis, come help me pick something out.” Tom shook my shoulder, jolting me awake. The phantom pain of boiling water searing my skin lingered for a second. I frantically rolled up my sleeve, but my arm was smooth and unscarred. “What are you doing? Let’s go,” Tom urged, his voice louder now. I glanced at my phone. The date confirmed it. I had been reborn. “I can’t,” I said, clutching my stomach and frowning. “Cramps. Bad ones. I’m not going anywhere.” “You’re so dramatic,” my mom’s voice cut in as she walked into the room. She grabbed my arm and yanked me off the bed. “It’s just cramps. Stop faking it. Get up and go with your brother!” I fell to the floor, unprepared for the shove. It hurt, but I didn’t care. Right now, my priority was saving my eye. “Mom, why don’t you go with Tom? You have better taste than me. If Hannah knows you picked it out, she’ll be even happier.” Mom rolled her eyes. “I’m busy.” I knew the drill. Tom wanted me to go so I would pay. Mom knew it too, which is why she didn’t want to go. I pulled out my phone and Venmo’d Tom $500. “Here. My treat. Buy yourself some new clothes for the season while you’re at it.” Seeing the money, Mom’s expression softened instantly. Tom, realizing he had a payer, stopped caring who went with him. “Fine. Mom, go change. Let’s head out.” Mom turned toward her bedroom, and I followed. “Mom, wear this one,” I said, pulling a bright red jacket from her closet. “It makes you look younger and gives you a great complexion.” She put it on without a second thought. I watched them leave and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. But I didn’t stay home. I followed them. Tom and Mom went straight to the mall. Tom knew exactly what he wanted—the luxury counters on the first floor. I watched from a distance, hidden behind a pillar. Soon, a familiar figure appeared. Hannah, Tom’s girlfriend, walked in arm-in-arm with her best friend. “Hannah, look! Isn’t that your boyfriend?” the friend pointed. Hannah squinted. She saw Tom walking arm-in-arm with a woman. They were laughing, looking intimate. Because of the angle and the woman’s loose hair, Hannah couldn’t see her face. But she didn’t need to. It was a woman. That was enough. “Unbelievable! He tells me he’s shopping for my gift, but he’s actually out with some skank? Watch me teach her a lesson!” Hannah rolled up her sleeves and charged. “TOM!” she screamed. Tom and Mom turned around at the sound of his name. In that split second, Hannah’s fist connected squarely with Mom’s eye socket. Crack. “AHHH!” Mom screamed, stumbling back, clutching her face. “You must be desperate!” Hannah shrieked. “You’re hooking up with a grandma? If you want to break up, just say so!” Tom stood frozen in shock before rushing to support Mom. Seeing him help “the other woman” only fueled Hannah’s rage. “I’ll kill you, you old homewrecker! Shameless old hag!” “Are you crazy?!” Tom roared. “This is my mother!” Hannah’s hand froze in mid-air. “W-what?” Mom was wailing in agony. “My eye! It hurts! I can’t see! Tom, my eye!” “Auntie… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to… I thought you were…” Hannah tried to reach out, but Mom slapped her hand away. “Get me to the hospital! Now!” They rushed out, ignoring Hannah completely. Hannah stood there for a moment, realizing she had just punched her future mother-in-law. But she wasn’t about to lose her meal ticket. She ran after them. Watching the chaos unfold, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. 2 In my last life, I was the one walking next to Tom. I didn’t even touch him, but Hannah saw us and decided I was his mistress. She sucker-punched me. Even after Tom explained I was his sister, she refused to believe it. She kept hitting me and blocked me from going to the hospital. By the time I got treatment, it was too late. I lost my left eye. When I wanted to press charges, she played the victim. “I have bad eyesight. You two were too close. Siblings should have boundaries.” “You only lost one eye. Are you really going to ruin your brother’s happiness over that? You’re so selfish.” I was furious, but Mom snatched my phone and slapped me. “You troublemaker! It’s just an eye! You still have one left! Do you want your brother to be alone forever?” Because of my disability, I lost my promotion. My boss moved me to a dead-end admin job making coffee. Later, Hannah came home early and found Tom alone. She heard the shower running and assumed he had a woman over. She boiled a pot of water, kicked the bathroom door open, and threw it without looking. It was me. I screamed as my skin melted off. Hannah laughed. “Die, homewrecker!” When the steam cleared and she saw it was me, she gasped. “Sister? Why are you showering in the middle of the day? Are you trying to seduce my husband?!” I called 911 myself, naked and burning. While I needed skin grafts, Tom and Mom stole my savings and told the doctors to stop treatment. “Let her go. It’s too expensive.” I died of infection. On my deathbed, Hannah sneered at me. “Next time, stay away from other people’s husbands.” At my funeral, they told everyone I had seduced my own brother and that my death was karma. I died in agony and shame. But God gave me a second chance. And this time, this family of vipers was going to pay. 3 Tom called me from the ambulance, screaming for me to come to the hospital. When I arrived, the doctor was examining Mom. Hannah looked me up and down. “Who are you?” In this life, I had kept my distance from Tom specifically to avoid her wrath. I smiled. “You must be Hannah. I’m Tom’s sister. You two are perfect for each other.” Hannah didn’t respond. She looked pale. Her punch at the mall had been full force. She had meant to maim. Mom’s eyeball had ruptured on impact. Blood was still oozing from the corner of her eye. The doctor sighed. “We have to remove the eye immediately to prevent infection.” Mom gasped and fainted with her one good eye rolling back. I rushed forward, wailing theatrically. “Oh, Mom! My poor mother! Who did this to you?! How will you live as a cyclops?!” My wailing woke Mom up. She remembered her attacker. She leaped up, grabbing Hannah by the hair with one hand and slapping her with the other. “You bitch! Give me back my eye! Give it back!” Hannah was a bully, but she couldn’t fight. She screamed for Tom to help. Tom stood there, useless, trying to pull them apart. “Tom! Break up with this psycho right now! She is never stepping foot in my house!” Mom screamed. Hannah, battered and crying, clung to Tom’s arm. “Babe, I’m sorry! I just loved you too much! I lost my mind!” She turned to Mom. “Auntie, I’ll make it up to you! I’ll marry into your family and take care of you forever! I’ll be your eyes!” Tom’s face lit up. He was satisfied. He got the girl and the “caretaker.” But Mom wasn’t having it. “Get out! I don’t want a lunatic like you!” She glared at Tom. “If you stay with her, you’re dead to me!” I stepped in to mediate. “Okay, everyone calm down. Mom is emotional. You two wait outside. I’ll talk to her.” Hannah sat on the bench, rubbing her swollen face. Tom sat next to her. I went back into the room. Hannah had to marry Tom. They deserved each other. I needed them under one roof so they could destroy each other. I sat next to Mom. “Mom, calm down. Think about the future.” Mom glared at me. “What do you mean?” A few minutes later, I called the lovebirds back in. “I agree to let you marry my son,” Mom said to Hannah. 4 Hannah beamed, opening her mouth to thank her. “But I have conditions,” Mom interrupted. “First, you blinded me. You pay for the surgery and the hospital stay.” “Second, no dowry. No wedding gifts. If it weren’t for Tom, I’d have you arrested. You’d go to prison for assault.” Hannah frowned at the “no dowry” part. Mom immediately reached for her phone to dial 911. I jumped in. “Hannah, think about it. Once you’re married, we’re family. Money ruins relationships. And if Mom presses charges, you’ll have a criminal record. Your future kids won’t be able to get government jobs.” Tom, realizing he wouldn’t have to pay a dowry, immediately sided with us. Outnumbered, Hannah agreed. Her parents, hearing she had blinded her future mother-in-law, were too ashamed to argue. Since Mom needed surgery, there was no wedding. They just signed the papers at the courthouse. Mom lost her eye. I bought her a pirate patch. Hannah moved in. Mom made it her mission to make Hannah’s life hell. But they were newlyweds, so Tom and Hannah were still in the honeymoon phase. Hannah, however, couldn’t stop being paranoid. One day, she asked Tom to drive her to her parents’ house. When she got in the car, she noticed the passenger seat had been moved forward. She didn’t explode immediately. She waited until she got home. “Sis,” she asked me casually. “Did you sit in Tom’s car recently? Did you adjust the seat?” I looked confused. “Me? No. Why?” Hannah went silent. “Maybe I saw it wrong.” “Besides, I’m taller than you. If I moved it, I’d move it back, not forward.” Hannah’s fist clenched. She was short. If the seat was moved forward, the person who sat there was shorter than her. A woman. In Hannah’s mind, this was a declaration of war from a mistress. I saw the cruel glint in her eye and quietly retreated to my room. I wasn’t getting caught in the crossfire. That evening, Tom was late. Mom called him, but he didn’t pick up. Hannah smiled. “Mom, let’s eat. He’s probably busy.” Mom scoffed. “Eat, eat, eat. My son is working hard and you just think about food.” Hannah ignored her. She was in a good mood. Around 8 PM, the door opened. Tom stumbled in. He looked like a ghost. He was sweating profusely, his eyes wild. He looked at the three of us. Then, through gritted teeth, he hissed: “Which one of you put superglue on my passenger seat?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389806”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My ex-boyfriend, Seth, is my brother’s roommate. My brother, Jonathan, transferred me my monthly allowance with a string of curses. “Happy now? You’re only with me for the money!” Seth saw the message and immediately sent a transfer of his own, adding two zeros to the amount. “I’m bigger than him. I can make you happier.” Seth thought my brother was my new boyfriend. He’d made a bet with his friends that he could snap his fingers and win back a gold-digger like me. I knew he was up to no good. When Seth offered me his black card, I refused it. When my brother offered me a half-off coupon, I took it. When Seth offered me a meticulously chosen designer gift, I refused it. When my brother offered me half a pack of leftover tissues, I took it. Seth finally lost his mind. “Is my money cursed or something? Will it kill you to spend a single penny of it?!” 1 My brother cursed me out as he transferred my allowance. “Happy now? You’re only with me for the money!” I didn’t dare breathe a word, a sly, sycophantic grin plastered on my face on the other end of the line. The second the money hit my account, I loaded it all onto my meal card. I’ve always had a massive appetite. There was an all-you-can-eat buffet that opened up downstairs from my childhood home. Less than a month later, the owner skipped town in the middle of the night without a word to me. When my family stocked up on snacks for the holidays, my parents would take turns standing guard outside my door. Bought a snack you didn’t like? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Can’t finish your dinner? Just leave it, I’m here. The greatest charm of a mature woman is her ability to solve problems. My mom always said that since I came along, our family has never had to eat leftovers. The year I graduated high school, my dad asked me where I wanted to go to college. I immediately said I wanted to go to my brother’s university. My brother froze, then instinctively clutched his meal card in terror. Red alert! Incoming disaster! Every month, I scrape and save every penny just to treat my stomach right. But without fail, by the end of the month, I’m broke. When that happens, I usually have to find some odd jobs that pay by the day and include a meal. My brother couldn’t stand the thought of me running all over town at all hours, so he’d grit his teeth and transfer me a hundred bucks from his own allowance. The moment his “disaster relief funds” came through, I’d transform into his number one fan girl. But before I could lay on any more flattery, two new notifications popped up on my phone. Another transfer notification appeared, this one adding two zeros to my brother’s one hundred dollars. It was immediately followed by a text from my ex-boyfriend. 【I’m bigger than him. I can make you happier.】 2 It was noisy on my brother’s end of the call; it sounded like someone was calling his name from outside the dorm room. He tossed his phone on the desk and went out, forgetting to hang up. Through the open line, I heard Seth’s voice. Someone next to him started jeering. “Can you believe her? The second she breaks up with Seth, she’s already latched onto someone else. Hah.” “And Seth just drops ten grand on her? That fickle bitch doesn’t deserve it.” Seth just laughed, a lazy, unconcerned sound. He narrowed his eyes, his long fingers toying with his phone. “A girl like Holly? I could snap my fingers and have her crawling back to me.” I stared at the ten thousand dollars that had just landed in my account and fell into a deep thought. When I first got to campus, my life revolved around eating. My social media feed was basically a walking advertisement for every restaurant in a five-mile radius. Whether it was a discount for getting enough likes or a free drink for sharing a post, if there was a food-related perk, I was on it. Someone said I was like a restaurant hustler. The rumor got more and more ridiculous, until people were saying I scammed guys into taking me to specific restaurants so I could get a kickback. I have no idea where Seth heard this story, but he decided to descend from the heavens like an avenging angel to deliver my punishment. “Go out with me,” he’d said, a halo practically glowing above his head. “I’ll pay for all your meals. How about it?” Was this a food-based relief package from above? That sounded pretty righteous to me. I nodded so fast my head almost fell off and immediately agreed. Seth had set all sorts of traps, planning to expose my “true colors” in public. He asked me to take him out to eat. That day, he was dressed to the nines—a perfectly pressed suit, shoes shined to a mirror finish. He was ready for a five-star restaurant, but I dragged him to a grimy street food alley instead. The spiciest ramen in the city. Extra-hot wings. Fiery grilled kebabs. My face was flushed and my mouth was on fire. I turned to him and asked, “Thrilling, right?” Seth just sat there, looking at me like his entire digestive system was about to combust. He kept trying to test me, and I kept dragging him back to that night market. In the end, faced with a choice between delivering heavenly justice and saving his own ass, Seth chose the latter. He broke up with me. My free meal ticket was gone. I was genuinely bummed about it for a long time. It wasn’t until one of Seth’s friends let it slip that I finally learned the real story. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Son of a bitch. There are always people trying to take advantage of honest, good-hearted women like me. Even the ten thousand dollars now felt tainted. Was this some new kind of humiliation play? Wary of a trap, I cautiously sent the money back. On the other end of the line, the electronic notification voice announced the ten-thousand-dollar deposit. The chaotic dorm room was suddenly plunged into a dead silence. My brother came back from whatever he was doing. He picked up his phone. “Holly, someone just gave me a couple of half-off coupons. You want them?” I never turn down a bargain. “Yes!” Seth silently picked up his phone and typed me a message. 【Do you want my black card?】 The moment he hit send, a red exclamation mark appeared. You have been blocked by this user. My brother chatted with me as if he were sorting through junk. “I’ve got half a pack of tissues left here.” “I’ll take it!” “I won a ‘one dollar off’ prize from a drink I bought last time.” “Gimme.” “These crackers I bought are a little stale.” “That’s fine, I don’t mind.” “Seth, stop trying to swing from the rafters!” “Okay… wait, what?” My brother ended up putting together a whole box of his “junk” for me. On my way to pick it up, I heard a rumor that someone in the men’s dorm had engaged in a spirited tug-of-war between his neck and a ceiling beam. Ah, youth, I thought with a sigh. The dean and the campus nurse were fussing over Seth, but he remained silent, his head bowed. As he passed my brother, Jonathan was still busy talking to me. “Don’t run your mouth in front of my girlfriend, okay? I don’t want her to know about our relationship.” Having secured my loot, I grinned like an idiot. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know about… us.” My brother was trying to win over a girl who lived in the dorm across from his. After I found out, I’d spent days whispering sweet nothings about him in her ear, trying to boost his image. If she knew we were siblings, all my praise would just sound like biased bragging. But Seth overheard us, and his face went through five different shades of pale. He looked from me to my brother, his expression a complex mess of emotions. “Jonathan… what exactly is the relationship… between you two?” My brother, ever the honest one, replied, “She’s my sister.” Jonathan took our dad’s last name, and I took our mom’s. Since he didn’t know I even knew Seth, he didn’t bother to explain further. Seth looked at me, then back at my brother. A sarcastic smile twisted his lips, and his voice dripped with acid. “Oh, so she’s your sister.” He pulled a utility knife from his pocket and held it to his wrist. “I think there’s a bug under my skin, right here. It keeps jumping. I’m just going to… pick it out.” The dean, horrified, bellowed, “THAT’S YOUR DAMN ARTERY!” 3 On top of his own living expenses, my brother now had a new dating budget to manage. And because of me, he still had to set aside some “disaster relief” funds every month. I felt a little guilty. So when I saw a flyer for a daily-wage hotel cleaning job, I signed up immediately. I wanted to save up enough money to buy my brother a pair of sneakers he’d been wanting for ages. When he found out, he was moved to tears, saying his little sister had finally grown up. I worked all day, and by the time I got off, it was already dark. I stood by the side of the road and called my brother. “It’s a little remote out here. Can you come pick me up and drive me back to campus?” “Find a place to wait for me,” he said. “I have to drop off your sister-in-law first. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” “Okay,” I replied and waited by the curb. A few minutes later, a black Porsche pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, and I saw Seth’s face. He looked me up and down, then glanced at the hotel behind me. His brow furrowed, and the usual lazy smile on his face faded. “Why are you out here alone? Where’s Jonathan?” Just seeing Seth’s face made a fire ignite in my stomach. It was all my fault for being so greedy back then, letting this venomous fox play with my feelings. My voice was unintentionally sharp when I replied, “He went to see his girlfriend.” Seth let out a choked laugh. “So he just abandoned you like that?” I scratched my head. The question felt weird, but also… not entirely wrong? I didn’t know how to answer, so I just stood there silently. “Get in. I’ll take you back to school.” Seth opened the passenger door for me. Once I was in the car, I quickly texted my brother to let him know he didn’t need to come, that someone was giving me a ride. I sat in the passenger seat and glanced at Seth. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a silver chain around his neck. A sleek, metallic pendant glinted in the dim light, swaying with his movements. My eyes followed it down, getting stuck on the sliver of collarbone visible at the opening of his shirt. “Why are you doing this?” Seth’s voice was cold, but I could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface. I assumed he was talking about my cleaning job, disgusted by my line of work. “What would a rich guy like you know? If it wasn’t for the money, who would want to do this kind of thing?” Seth’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he asked through gritted teeth, “For a hundred lousy bucks?” “That’s right! For a hundred lousy bucks!” I answered, full of righteous indignation. The work was dirty and exhausting, and I had to deal with all sorts of weirdos, but the pay was great! And it included a meal! Seth demanded, “Then why didn’t you take the money I gave you?” “Is my money cursed or something? Will it kill you to spend a single penny of it?!” I wanted to! God, I wanted to! But my brain had decided to be logical for once, and by the time my senses returned, the money was already gone. But I couldn’t admit that now. That would be pathetic. I put on an air of detached elegance and said with a faint smile, “Because it wasn’t appropriate.” Seth closed his eyes, a look of utter despair on his face. He whispered, so softly it was almost to himself, “And he is?” My phone buzzed in my pocket, the ringtone drowning out his words. I answered, and my brother’s voice came through the speaker. “Holly, are you back on campus yet? Who’s driving you?” I glanced at Seth. He shook his head, signaling me not to mention his name. So I lied. “A coworker is giving me a ride. We were heading in the same direction.” My brother told me to text him when I was safely back in my dorm. I agreed. Seth pulled up to the campus gate. I thanked him and got out of the car. Just as I was about to close the door, I heard his hoarse voice. “Holly, do you really have to go down this path? Anything he can give you, I can give you too.” Give me what? A daily wage? This damn fox. He always knew exactly how to find my weak spot. But then I remembered his smug words from the dorm room, and a fresh wave of anger washed over me. I slammed the door shut, leaving him with a single, sharp word. “No!” Back in my dorm, I was scrolling through my phone when I saw a new post from Seth. 【My entire life has been ruined by a scumbag.】 Me: “?” What now?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389824”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel