Category: English

My $30,000 year-end bonus became $30. I asked my boss if there had been a mistake. He sighed. “It’s been a tough year, sweetheart. I promise I’ll make it up to you next year.” I looked at the sales report, at the $600,000 figure next to my name. And I thought to myself, Yeah, right. I’m not falling for that. That night, I quit. And I went to work for the boutique right across the street. 1 That afternoon, my boss, Mr. Franklin, walked into the shop carrying two bubble teas. “Year-end is upon us,” he said cheerfully, handing one to me and one to my coworker, Hailey. “Bonuses have been deposited. Have a wonderful holiday, everyone. Let’s keep up the great work next year and push those sales even higher.” Hailey and I exchanged a delighted smile. At the beginning of the year, Mr. Franklin had made us a promise: a five percent commission on all our sales, paid out as a year-end bonus. I’d just checked my numbers. I had personally sold over $600,000 worth of designer clothing. That meant a bonus of at least $30,000 was headed my way. Hailey’s sales were less than half of mine, but she was still looking at a respectable eight or nine thousand dollars. I was floating on air all afternoon. The second my shift ended, I rushed over to the sales office of a new condo building I’d been eyeing for months. I was finally going to buy that perfect little studio apartment. I was so tired of renting. Every time I’d finally get a place decorated just right, turning it into a cozy little sanctuary, the landlord would jack up the rent the following year. But this was it. The down payment on the studio was only $18,000. For just eighteen grand, I could have a place to call my own. A warm little corner of the city that was all mine. After the down payment, I’d still have over ten thousand dollars left from my bonus. Enough for a nice vacation during the holidays. The thought kept a smile plastered on my face, a smile I couldn’t suppress no matter how hard I tried. 2 I hummed a happy tune as I rode my scooter to the sales office. My real estate agent, Leon, was already waiting for me. With a confident flourish, I pulled out my debit card. “Here you go. I’ll take the one we looked at last time.” Leon took the card, his professional smile fixed in place. He swiped it. And then swiped it again. The smile began to look a little strained. “Hm, there seems to be… an issue with this card, Ms. Chen.” My own smile faltered. “That’s impossible. Thirty thousand dollars were just deposited today. Try it again.” He tried several more times. Each time, the machine read: “Insufficient Funds.” I snatched the card back, a knot of dread forming in my stomach. I raced to the nearest bank. The ATM screen confirmed my fears. My balance was $33.82. The thirty dollars and change were what was left from before. Which meant my boss had deposited exactly thirty dollars. As I stood there, utterly dumbfounded, my phone rang. It was Hailey. “Chloe? What was your bonus? I think mine’s wrong. I only got fifteen dollars.” We quickly came to the same conclusion: it had to be a mistake. “Chloe, what do we do?” Hailey’s voice was tight with panic. “I was counting on that money.” “Don’t worry,” I assured her, though my own heart was hammering. “I’ll go talk to him. I’ll get him to fix this.” 3 Mr. Franklin lived just a block away from my apartment. I jumped on my scooter and zipped over to his building, taking the stairs two at a time to the fourth floor. When he opened the door and saw me, he didn’t look surprised at all. He just raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Franklin, there seems to be a problem with our bonuses. I think there was a mistake—” He cut me off, clapping a hand on my shoulder with a sigh. “Chloe, Chloe. You’re a veteran here. Business has been terrible this year. The market is in the gutter.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “My other stores are all losing money. I just don’t have the cash for bonuses right now. How about this? Next year, when things pick up, I promise I’ll make it up to both of you. How does that sound?” I knew about his other ventures; it was true they had all failed. But our boutique was a different story. Our boutique was thriving. My sales alone had netted him a profit of at least $200,000. And he was the one who had offered the five percent commission. It was that promise that had driven us to work our fingers to the bone. That commission wasn’t a gift; it was earned. The losses from his other failed businesses shouldn’t be on our shoulders. “Mr. Franklin, with all due respect, that’s not how this works,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “The other stores have nothing to do with us. You promised us five percent.” His friendly demeanor vanished. “Chloe, look,” he said, pulling me into the dim light of the stairwell. He quickly transferred three hundred dollars to my account from his phone. “Here. You’re my best employee. Don’t tell anyone, especially not my wife. This is from my personal stash.” Before I could respond, he slipped back inside his apartment and shut the door. I stared at the three-hundred-dollar transfer notification on my phone. A wave of humiliation washed over me. I felt like a beggar being tossed a few coins. A lump formed in my throat, thick and bitter. That thirty thousand dollars was mine. I had earned every single cent of it. 4 Hailey called me a few minutes later. “Chloe? What did he say? When are we getting our bonuses?” “Hailey,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t think we are.” “What?! Why not? I need that money for my mom’s surgery!” Hailey hung up and was at my door within fifteen minutes. The moment she stepped inside, her eyes were red-rimmed. “What happened, Chloe? How can he just go back on his word? He promised us five percent! I told my mom I’d pay for her surgery as soon as I got my bonus. What am I going to do now?” She collapsed into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Hailey was a sweet girl from a small town, with a family that had never had much. Her dad was killed in a hit-and-run when she was little. The driver was never caught. Her mom had raised her all alone, working multiple jobs just to get by. Just as Hailey was finally old enough to start her own career, her mom was diagnosed with stomach cancer. The doctors said surgery would give her a real chance, a chance at more years. “Without that bonus, how can I afford my mom’s surgery?” Hailey’s words were choked with tears. “He promised. How can he just lie to us?” My own heart ached for her. Hailey was the hardest worker I knew, always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Knowing I had a sensitive stomach, she would often bring me homemade lunches. “People are made of iron, but rice is made of steel,” she’d say with a grin, quoting her mom. “Eating well is the most important thing in life.” She was three years younger than me, and I thought of her as a little sister. I’d even passed a few of my own clients to her, just so she could boost her sales and get a bigger bonus. And now, our boss had just… decided not to pay us. His promise was worth nothing. It took a long time to calm Hailey down. After I sent her home, my phone rang. It was Leon, the real estate agent. 5 “Ms. Chen, are you still interested in the condo?” I paused. “I… I can’t afford it right now.” He launched into his sales pitch, reminding me of the great location, the perfect price. I rubbed my temples, where a dull throb had started. “I don’t have the money anymore.” That finally shut him up. “Ms. Chen,” he said, his voice now cooler, “are you sure you want to back out? The deposit is non-refundable, you know.” I’d been apartment hunting for six months. When I found this place—perfect location, great price, my favorite floor—Leon had convinced me to put down a deposit to hold it. I had calculated everything. My bonus would easily cover the down payment. So I’d paid the three-thousand-dollar deposit on the spot. I never imagined my boss would just… renege. It was my fault for breaking the contract. There was nothing I could do. The three thousand dollars were gone. “Look, Ms. Chen,” Leon said, making one last attempt, “I’ll hold the unit for you for another week. See if you can pull the funds together.” After I hung up, my head was pounding. I curled up on my sofa, my mind racing. I couldn’t just let my thirty thousand dollars disappear. I grabbed my bag, hopped back on my scooter, and headed straight back to my boss’s apartment.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393228”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was once the childhood companion of Aurelius, Crown Prince of the Celestial Realm. For three millennia, I loved him in secret. To win his hand, I knelt before the Celestial Emperor countless times, finally begging a decree for our betrothal. Yet, he treated me with an icy disdain. Because my sister claimed I meant her harm, Aurelius forced me to leap from the Sky-Piercer Spire, condemning me to ten mortal lifetimes as a lesson. A thousand years later, I dragged my scarred, broken celestial body back to the heavens. The lofty Aurelius looked down upon me. “Rhea, have you learned your lesson?” Humbly, I knelt. “I have, Your Highness. I swear on my very soul, I will never again harbor improper thoughts for you.” He nodded, satisfied. But when he saw the marks and scars that covered my body, when he learned that for the last millennium, I had been a courtesan in the Abyss of Lost Souls, his eyes turned blood-red, and he went mad with rage. 1 It was my one-thousand-and-fiftieth year working in the Abyss of Lost Souls. Aurelius finally sent someone for me. “By my calculations, Lady Rhea’s ten mortal lifetimes should be concluded. Go and bring her back. She can attend the wedding feast for myself and her sister, Lady Lyra.” Aurelius’s lieutenant had searched the Three Realms for an eternity before finally tracking me to this infernal brothel. When he arrived to collect me, two hulking demons were just leaving my bedchamber. The lieutenant’s brow furrowed, his eyes filled with undisguised disgust. “Lady Rhea, what a clever scheme. Hiding in the filthiest corner of the Abyss to evade the Prince’s sentence.” “You are a Celestial, a princess of the Phoenix Conclave. How could you fall so low?” he spat. “Look at yourself. The sight of you makes me want to vomit.” Once, if a mere lieutenant had dared speak to me so, his head would have parted from his shoulders. But I was no longer the Rhea I once was. I lowered my head. “You are right, Lieutenant. I have debased myself. I am unworthy of being a Celestial. Please, take me back to the heavens.” I pulled on my robes, but my legs were weak, my body drained of all strength. Impatient, the lieutenant bound me with a Celestial Chain and simply dragged me skyward. The chain was lined with countless tiny barbs. The moment he pulled, a piercing scream tore from my throat. He barked, “What are you screaming for? You have your celestial energy to protect you. As if this chain could truly harm you! If you hadn’t been feigning weakness and wasting time, I wouldn’t have had to use this at all.” When we reached Aurelius’s Citadel of Eternal Light, he yanked the chain back. The barbs tore my flesh anew. Blood soaked through my thin robes. I clutched the fabric to myself and knelt on the cold, unforgiving marble. Soon, Aurelius appeared. He sat upon the high throne of his Citadel, his gaze a mixture of coldness and contempt. Everyone in the heavens knew the story: Lady Rhea, the young princess of the Phoenix Conclave, had been infatuated with Crown Prince Aurelius for three thousand years. Trading on their shared childhood, she had openly declared she would marry no other. A millennium ago, to secure a betrothal, I had prostrated myself before the Celestial Emperor countless times, finally earning a royal decree. But Aurelius had rejected it, never showing me an ounce of affection. I had once believed he was simply incapable of love. Then I saw him tenderly tracing my sister Lyra’s brow, adjusting her cloak. And I knew. The ice-cold Prince could love. He just didn’t love me. A thousand years had only amplified his commanding presence. I kept my head bowed, not daring to meet his eyes. Seeing me, Aurelius’s lips tightened in a familiar, downward curve. “Rhea, have you learned your lesson?” he asked. As the words left his mouth, the crushing weight of his royal authority washed over me. My already fragile body couldn’t withstand the impact, and I collapsed. Aurelius snorted. “Look at this pathetic display. How pitiful.” “Rhea, I am warning you. If you ever dare to think of harming your sister again, I will make you pay a thousand times over.” Before he could finish, I scrambled back to my knees, bowing my head to the floor. “I was wrong! I was wrong, Your Highness! I will never dare again!” And I wouldn’t. Once, I had believed our shared past made me special in his eyes. But all it took was a single tear from my sister Lyra for him to believe her lies, to condemn me for a crime I never committed. The Prince’s sentence of ten mortal lifetimes was nearly impossible to evade, unless one fled to the Abyss. When I refused to go, he drew his sword and forced me to the edge of the Sky-Piercer Spire. “Your heart is black with poison,” he’d snarled. “You tried to poison Lyra. A few lifetimes of mortal suffering is a light punishment. What right do you have to refuse?” As I fell, ten thousand bolts of celestial lightning shattered my powers, nearly cleaving my phoenix form in two. Remembering this, I pressed my forehead lower, prostrating myself in supplication. What courage did I have left to resist? How many lives did I have to spare? The celestial handmaidens in the hall began to whisper. “Look at her. A princess of the Conclave, brought to such a miserable end.” “It’s her own fault for being so greedy, for daring to think she could marry the Prince.” “His Highness and Lady Lyra are a perfect match, destined by the heavens. What does she have to do with it?” Celestials have keen senses. Aurelius heard them, but said nothing. I remained bowed, not daring to lift my head. My body trembled as I swore an oath, word by painful word. “Your Highness, it was my foolishness, my delusion. I am awake now. I will never again presume to covet you.” “I, Rhea, swear to the heavens, I will never again harbor improper thoughts for the Crown Prince!” “And I sincerely wish you and my sister a blessed union, an eternity of love.” I peeked up, offering a placating smile, praying he would finally let me go. Aurelius sneered. “If it weren’t for Lyra’s kindness, for her begging on your behalf, do you think you would have ever been allowed back?” “You two are sisters, born of the same mother. Lyra is as benevolent as a saint, while your heart is as black as a demon’s.” “You’ve returned after your punishment, but a few mortal lifetimes was a pittance. You still need to suffer a little more, to truly learn your lesson.” At the word “suffer,” I began to shake uncontrollably. The matron of the Abyss brothel used to say the same thing when I was disobedient. Fear paralyzed me. I crumpled to the floor, my face as white as paper. “No, no, I beg you! Please don’t punish me again!” “I can leave the Celestial Realm forever! I’ll become a mortal! Just please, no more punishment!” But Aurelius saw only another pathetic performance. “Is this a place for you to speak?” he commanded coldly. “Guards! The Lady Rhea has shown disrespect to the Crown. Three hundred lashes!” These were not ordinary lashes. A single strike from his enchanted whip could shatter my phoenix bones. The lieutenant carrying out the sentence, clearly acting on another’s orders, aimed every blow at my old wounds, carefully avoiding any fatal injury, leaving me in a state of living death. When it was over, I was alone in the great hall. My body was a bloody ruin, one leg broken. I began to crawl, inch by painful inch, toward my own palace. Behind me, a stark, crimson trail stained the pristine marble of the Citadel of Eternal Light. 2 The Citadel of Eternal Light and my Palace of Moonlight were directly across from each other. As a child, I used to flit between them in the blink of an eye. Now, I crawled from dawn until dusk and still had not reached home. The journey was so long, so agonizing, it brought back a millennium of torment. At the end of the first century, Aurelius had sent a phantom projection of himself to me. He had asked, his voice cold and remote, “Rhea, have you learned your lesson?” At the time, I was fighting for my life every day, battling various demons to protect my virtue, my body covered in wounds. Outrage and grief churned within me. “I did nothing wrong!” I had shouted. And it was true. I had never intended to harm Lyra. It was all a charade she had orchestrated. Aurelius had sneered. “It seems your life is still too comfortable.” “I suppose you are of phoenix blood. Even with your powers stripped by the Spire, you still have your phoenix bones to protect you. You must be living as you please among the mortals, knowing nothing of hardship.” He had pointed a finger, and a bolt of lightning shattered my phoenix bones. I screamed in agony as the last of my defenses crumbled. After his projection vanished, the demons lurking in the shadows emerged. They took advantage of my grievous injuries, my utter helplessness, and defiled me. They laughed, their voices grating. “A Celestial, as expected. The taste is truly… exquisite.” “A delicacy delivered by the Crown Prince himself. How could we not partake?” I cried until I had no tears left, but I was powerless to stop them. At the end of the third century, Aurelius’s phantom appeared again. He saw me adorned in fine silks and jeweled hairpins and was incandescent with rage. “I sentenced you to self-reflection, and instead you’ve made a fine life for yourself!” He didn’t know that I had been captured by the brothel matron, dressed in finery, and forced to entertain clients every day. Another bolt of lightning struck. With my bones already broken, I had no defense. This time, one of my celestial tail feathers—the core of my being—shattered. I was the last Rainbow Phoenix in existence. With each lost feather, I moved closer to oblivion. When all seven were gone, I would simply cease to be. At the end of the fifth century, the moment Aurelius appeared, I fell to my knees and confessed. I lied, admitting to everything, begging him to stop punishing me, to let me return. But he only laughed coldly. “A little late for regrets, isn’t it? It is Lyra’s misfortune to have a sister like you.” He shattered another of my feathers, for my “own good.” My heart died then. The light in my eyes went out. After that, I learned. When his phantom appeared again, I pretended not to see him. Aurelius, thinking something was amiss, never came back. And so he never knew. I had not been living out ten mortal lifetimes. I had spent a thousand years in the Abyss of Lost Souls. 3 The Palace of Moonlight had been empty for a millennium, draped in dust and decay. But still, a flicker of excitement rose in me. A thousand years, and I was finally home. But just as I reached the threshold, the world went black, and I passed out. When I awoke, I was in a clean, pristine chamber. My wounds had been treated and bandaged. Hearing someone approach, a wave of terrifying memories washed over me, and I shrank back into the bed. “Don’t! Stay away!” My sister Lyra entered, carrying a bowl of medicinal broth. Her gaze was soft and full of pity. “Little sister, don’t be afraid. It’s me.” Seeing her, my fear intensified. She offered me the bowl. “I found you collapsed outside your palace. I couldn’t bear to leave you there, so I brought you here.” “You seem to be covered in wounds,” she murmured. “Were your mortal lives so unpleasant? How strange. The Prince placed a powerful ward of protection on you. How could you have sustained so many injuries?” I stared at her, trying to parse the truth from the lies. After Aurelius forced me from the Spire, I should have been reborn a mortal. But as my power faded, a shadowy figure had abducted me and thrown me into the Abyss. Though the figure had concealed its aura, I had seen a flash of blue feathers. And my sister, Lyra, her true form was that of a Blue Phoenix. Who else in the universe could hate me so much? She held a spoonful of the scalding broth to my lips. “Drink, little sister,” she cooed, but her eyes were cold, pressuring me. I didn’t want it. I shook my head, shrinking away. Suddenly, Lyra cried out. Her hand “slipped,” and the bowl shattered on the floor. She shook her head, sighing with theatrical sadness. “Rhea, I know you resent me, but you can’t trifle with your own health. If you don’t take your medicine, how will your wounds heal?” The words were barely out of her mouth when Aurelius strode into the room. He saw the red, scalded skin on Lyra’s hand and his face filled with concern. He immediately lifted her fingers to his lips. Lyra blushed. “Your Highness, Rhea is watching.” Aurelius paid me no mind. Only when Lyra’s hand was healed did he look up, his eyes blazing with anger at me. “You claimed you had learned your lesson in my Citadel. I see now you haven’t learned a thing.” “Lyra tries to help you, and you throw hot broth on her. If you want to die, then get out! I will gladly grant your wish. But do not trample on Lyra’s kindness here!” Lyra quickly interjected, “Your Highness, don’t be angry. My sister is truly, grievously injured…” Aurelius scoffed. “My lieutenant told me everything. He gave her three light taps with the whip, and she was screaming for her life. Three hundred lashes became three. It was a tickle. What injuries could she possibly have?!” My eyes went wide. The lieutenant had lied? He hadn’t spared a single lash. Whose orders was he following, to slander me like this? Lyra tried to speak again, but Aurelius marched over and seized my wrist to check my celestial pulse. I flinched, terrified he would discover the truth of my condition. But a second later, he threw my hand down in disgust and wiped his own fingers with a silk handkerchief. “Your celestial energy is abundant, your phoenix bones are strong. You are perfectly fine!” My mouth fell open in disbelief. My very essence was damaged, my powers were gone, shattered a millennium ago at the Spire. How could he say this? Lyra feigned a look of dawning comprehension. “Oh, is that so? Then it seems I was the fool, deceived by Rhea once again.” “Sister,” she said, turning to me, “why do you always torment me so?” She gave me a small, tight smile, and in it, I saw an ocean of enmity. It was her. It had to be. She had woven some new illusion, some fresh treachery. 4 My father, the Phoenix King, heard I had returned and came to Lyra’s palace to see me. At the sight of his familiar face, tears streamed down my cheeks. When I was a child, I was his favorite. If I’d asked for a star from the sky, he would have had the Star-Lord pluck one for me. But after Lyra’s endless, subtle manipulations, a chasm had grown between us. Like Aurelius, he believed I had tried to poison my own sister. And so, at our reunion, his eyes held only stern coldness. He was no longer the doting father of my childhood. There would be no indulgence for me. He asked the same question as Aurelius. “Rhea, have you learned your lesson?” I nodded frantically. “I have. I will never dare again.” My father’s brow furrowed. “What is this… illusion upon you?” Beside him, Lyra’s face paled. With a wave of his hand, the spell was broken. The skin of my arms and neck, now exposed, was a tapestry of old and new scars. “Someone has placed an illusion on you to hide your wounds?” he demanded. “Who? Who did this?!” He looked around the room, his gaze falling on my trembling sister. Aurelius, too, sensed something was wrong. “An illusion? Was the pulse I read a lie?” He strode toward me, intending to check my celestial veins again. “It was me!” I cried out, my voice tight with panic. “I cast the spell on myself!” My father stared at me, confused. Lyra breathed a sigh of relief. Aurelius’s hand froze in mid-air. He stared at my face, a cold sneer forming on his lips. “It seems Lady Rhea’s celestial foundation is quite profound indeed. After ten mortal lifetimes, you still have the power to cast illusions on yourself.” Lyra added smoothly, “Aurelius, don’t be angry with her. A young girl, sent to the mortal realm… it’s only natural she’d feel wronged and want to conjure some fake injuries to get your attention.” “When I discovered it and spoke to her, she saw the error of her ways and used another illusion to hide them. It was all just a misunderstanding. Rhea is still young. Don’t hold it against her.” Her explanation only deepened the disgust in Aurelius’s eyes. Even my father, who had shown a flicker of concern, now frowned deeply. “I had hoped your time in the mortal realm would temper you, build your character. But you are the same as you were a thousand years ago—scheming and manipulative!” “Rhea, I am so disappointed in you!” My father’s anger was a thunderstorm. I dragged my weak body from the bed and fell to my knees, bowing my head to the ground again and again. “I was wrong! Please, Father, calm your anger!” I bowed until my forehead bled, staining the marble, but no one cared. They saw it as just another small lesson for me. My father swept from the room, Aurelius following him. After seeing them off, Lyra returned and kicked me to the ground. “Well done, Rhea. It seems your millennium in the Abyss has taught you a thing or two. You even know how to cover for me now.” She giggled, covering her mouth. The implication of her words hit me, and I shot my head up, glaring at her. “It was you! You’re the one who sent me to the Abyss!” Lyra sat gracefully, a perfect celestial being compared to the wretched creature I was on the floor. In the face of my accusation, she just smiled. “Yes. And what of it? Just like today, you knew I cast the illusion, but you only dared to tell Father and Aurelius that you did it yourself.” “You did the right thing, you know. If you had exposed me, I have a thousand ways to defend myself. It would only have deepened their disgust for you. In their eyes, I am the moon in the sky, and you are the mud on their boots. You see the difference, don’t you?” Her words were daggers, each one piercing my heart. It was true. In their eyes, I was nothing but filth. There was another reason I had lied. I was terrified that if Aurelius discovered the true extent of my injuries, he would demand to know how I got them. And then, he would uncover the unspeakable memories of the last millennium. I had been ruined, tainted beyond repair. I couldn’t bear to have my shame exposed before him and my father. It would be worse than death. So I had to hide it all—the scars, and the thousand years in the Abyss. Lyra grabbed my throat, forcing me to meet her eyes. The horrific memories flooded back, and I began to tremble uncontrollably, terror spilling from my eyes. “What are you afraid of, little sister? Let me tell you the truth. Aurelius’s lieutenant is my man, too. I knew where you were all along. I just told him to take his time finding you. So he made a little detour through the Three Realms before coming to get you.” “Another fifty years in the Abyss for you. You don’t blame me, do you, sister?” “And the three hundred lashes that he told Aurelius was only three? That was my idea, too. Even if the truth came out, Aurelius wouldn’t blame him. He’d just assume you were up to your old manipulative tricks.” “So, you see, you have to swallow all this bitterness. Just like when that matron forced you to take clients, broke your teeth, and you had to swallow them down and keep working through the night.” Every word she spoke was a fresh agony. Tears streamed down my face. I was choking, trembling, unable to form a single word, only a silent, desperate scream. She knew. She knew everything. She was the architect of my ruin. And I was drowning in a grief I could share with no one.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393246”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The new transfer student was magnetic. But my childhood friend, Liam, said her behavior was just a desperate cry for attention. Then, one night, I was crumpled on the floor, paralyzed by cramps. He stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. “Do you have any idea,” he slurred, “that if I hadn’t come to get you, I would’ve had her tonight?” I froze. Later, he blocked my path on the way to school, his face a mask of confusion. “Quinn,” he pleaded, “why are you ignoring me?” 1 The new transfer student, Maya, caused a stir the moment she arrived. The low-cut tank top she wore under her uniform revealed the edge of an intricate tattoo just above her chest. The second class ended, a swarm of boys surrounded her desk, all trying to start a conversation. The only one who didn’t join the frenzy was Liam. He walked over to me instead. A smile played on his lips. “Come on, Quinn. Let’s go get you a carton of chocolate milk.” On the way to the vending machine, I asked him, “Don’t you think the new girl is cool?” Liam’s brow furrowed. “Stay away from her, Quinn. To guys, that’s not ‘cool.’ That’s just being easy.” I didn’t answer. He grabbed my arm. “Did you hear me? A girl like that… she’s cheap.” I just nodded. When we got back to class, the crowd of boys had dispersed. I was surprised to see Maya had moved seats. She was now sitting next to Liam’s empty desk. She smiled and extended a hand toward him as he approached. “Hi there, new deskmate.” The next second, Liam’s hand was in hers. Maya turned her head, and her eyes met mine. For a fleeting moment, our gazes locked. Then, she broke into a wide, triumphant grin. 2 After school, I was packing my bag when I noticed Liam, who was usually the first one out the door, hadn’t moved. Maya was propped on her elbows, gazing at him with an expression of pure adoration. Liam’s eyes found mine. “Hey, Quinn, you head home by yourself today. I’m helping Maya with her homework.” My hands stilled. My gaze flickered to Maya. She gave me a sheepish smile. “Everyone says you and your ‘Prince Liam’ are childhood sweethearts. Mind if I borrow him for a bit? Just to help me with my English?” She winked. “I’ll buy you ice cream tomorrow, little sis.” Liam chuckled. “Why aren’t you buying me ice cream?” Maya leaned so far into him that her body was practically draped over his. “With our relationship,” she purred, “you should be the one buying it for me.” Had they really gotten that close in just one afternoon? I said nothing. I just turned and walked away. As I reached the doorway, I heard Maya’s voice. “Uh oh, is your little wifey upset?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “That’s just a joke everyone in class goes with.” “Hehe, so not your little wifey, huh?” My heart hammered against my ribs, a sour ache spreading through my chest. I walked faster. 3 When I got home, Liam’s mom was already waiting downstairs, just like every other day. She greeted me with a warm smile. “You two rascals, why so late today?” Her eyes scanned the street behind me. “Hey? Quinn, where’s Liam? Why are you by yourself?” I kept my head down, afraid she’d see my red-rimmed eyes if I looked up. “He had something to do.” I sidestepped her and bolted into the building. “What’s wrong, Quinn?” she called after me. “Did Liam bully you? I’ll give him a good talking to for you!” 4 It had always been like this. For as long as I can remember, Liam’s mom had treated me like her own. “Quinn is my future daughter-in-law,” she’d declare. “No one gets to bully her, not even my own son!” When we were in elementary school, there was a trend of buying gold lockets for your “future daughter-in-law.” Without a second thought, Liam’s mom bought one for me. It was a tiny, perfect gold ax charm. My mom said it was too expensive and told me I couldn’t accept it, but Mrs. Anderson insisted, fastening it around my neck herself. Liam’s eyes had crinkled with laughter. “See, Quinn? Now you’re officially my little wifey. You can’t run away now!” It’s embarrassing, really. It seems I was the only one who ever took it seriously. 5 The next morning, I didn’t wait for him like I usually did. I went to school early, alone. My deskmate, Trista, was surprised. “Hey, Quinn. Where’s your other half?” I didn’t say anything, but my eyes drifted uncontrollably to Liam’s empty seat. Trista’s face lit up with understanding. “Ah, you two had a fight.” A moment later, she nudged me. “Look, here comes your knight in shining armor. He’s got breakfast. Definitely an apology offering.” I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. If Liam apologized, maybe I could forgive what he’d said about me and Maya… Just then, Maya came jogging into the school from the other side of the courtyard. She called out his name. Liam stopped. He handed her the breakfast he was holding, a wide, undisguisable smile on his face. Trista’s jaw dropped. “What the hell is going on?” I tore my eyes away and opened my textbook. Liam and Maya walked into the classroom, laughing and talking as they sat down. He didn’t even glance in my direction. Trista fell silent. 6 During gym class, the boys were playing basketball. Maya came back from the snack bar with an ice cream cone. As if by some cruel coincidence, she tripped right in front of me. The ice cream landed, with perfect precision, right on my brand new skirt. Trista gasped. “You did that on purpose, Maya!” Maya looked at me, but there wasn’t a hint of apology in her eyes. “Oops, my bad, Quinn,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. Trista immediately stepped in front of me. “What is wrong with you? Just because you’ve latched onto Liam, you think you can provoke Quinn? Don’t you know they’ve been practically inseparable since they were kids? You really think you can come between them?” Before Trista could finish, a basketball came flying toward us, whistling past her ear. She let out a terrified shriek. Liam jogged over. He pulled Maya behind him, shielding her, his voice sharp and accusatory. “Quinn, are you bullying her?” I stared at him. His face was a mask of impatience. The sour ache in my chest suddenly went numb. “Are you blind, Liam?” He froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. In all our years, even during our worst fights, I had never spoken to him like that. Maya tugged on his arm, her voice a whiny drawl. “Don’t fight, you guys. It was my fault. I’ll apologize, okay?” She prattled on. “I know you and Quinn are a couple. I won’t make things difficult for you.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Liam cut her off, his eyes still locked on me, cold and hard. “That was all a joke. How could I ever be with someone who can’t take a hint?” He picked up the basketball and started walking away. Maya giggled and skipped after him. “What do you mean, ‘can’t take a hint’? You’re just talking nonsense.” The wind whipped across the field, a cold gust that chilled me to the bone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393263”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day of my difficult labor, my sister threw herself against a wall to induce a miscarriage—just to lure our mother, a renowned physician, away from my side. I begged my mother to stay, pleading that my child was the Duke’s heir. But my sister, bleeding and petulant, refused any other doctor and died crying for our mother. After her death, my family acted as if nothing happened. No blame, no resentment. Until the Duke became King. His first act was declaring my sister his ‘First Queen’—his one true love. I was cast aside, my marriage annulled, banished in disgrace. At my family’s estate, my mother forced poison down my throat. I writhed for seven days before dying. My father drowned my infant son in the fountain, snarling, “The spawn of Isadora’s killer doesn’t deserve to live.” They scattered my ashes over her grave, whispering, “We’ve avenged you.” Then—I woke back in the birthing bed. My mother stood over me, hands bloody. “Isadora is hemorrhaging. Your labor can wait.” 1 A sharp, violent pain tore through my abdomen. I instinctively grabbed my mother’s sleeve, the old, familiar plea rising in my throat. She shook me off, her face a mask of fury. “Isadora’s life is in danger! If you have a shred of decency, you will let me go right now.” Hearing those words, I knew. I had been reborn. I was back on the day my world had ended. In my last life, my baby was in a breech position, a dangerous and difficult birth. I had summoned my mother, the most celebrated physician in the capital, to ensure my safety. But my sister, Isadora, hearing of this, took her five-month pregnancy and hurled it against a stone wall, all to pull our mother away from me. I had begged my mother to stay, reminding her that my child was the Duke’s heir, whose birth would secure our family’s future. After a moment of hesitation, she had agreed. I delivered my son safely, but moments later, word came that Isadora, in a fit of pique, had refused all other medical aid and bled to death. My parents had collapsed from grief. But when they awoke, they never spoke of Isadora’s death again, treating me with the same cool affection as always. It was a lie, a long and patient performance of forgiveness. Until Duke Alistair became King. He named my dead sister his ‘First Queen,’ while I, the mother of his heir, received no title. I was nothing. Alistair himself had the royal guard hold me down while he personally severed the tendons in my wrists. “If it weren’t for you,” he’d spat, his voice thick with hatred, “Isadora and I would have been together forever.” He cast me out, sending me back to my parents for the final judgment. My mother brewed the poison herself, a special concoction designed not for a quick death, but for maximum suffering. As I lay convulsing on the stone floor, I watched my father drown my son, my beautiful boy. He threw the small, lifeless body at my feet. “This monster who killed my Isadora should never have been born! We let him live in luxury for years. That was mercy enough.” Trapped in a prison of agony and boundless hatred, I suffered for seven days and seven nights before I finally died. My last memory was of them at her grave, their voices mingling in a triumphant whisper. “She and the monster are dead, Isadora. You can rest now.” Remembering it all, this time, I let go of my mother’s sleeve. I let her go. As she rushed from the room, I forced my mind to focus, recalling the techniques my mother had used in my previous life to turn the baby. I called for the midwives. “Help me,” I gasped. “We have to turn him. Now.” Hours of excruciating effort followed. Finally, through a haze of pain, I gave birth to a son. The sound of his first cry was the sweetest I had ever heard. The breath I had been holding for two lifetimes finally escaped my lips. But my relief was short-lived. My father burst into the room, his face contorted with rage. He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t insisted your mother attend you, Isadora would never have hurt herself!” He started pulling me from the bed. “Her child is gone, and she won’t stop crying! You’re coming with me to her house. You will let her vent her anger on you until she is calm.” 2 Five months prior, Isadora had been married off to a minor court official and moved into a lavish new villa our mother had prepared for her. It was a half-hour’s ride from the ducal palace. It was early winter now. I had just given birth. To be dragged out into the cold would be a death sentence. The royal physician stepped forward. “My Lord, you mustn’t! Her Grace just endured a perilous birth. This could kill her!” he pleaded. “If she catches a chill now, she may never recover.” My father hesitated, but the thought of Isadora’s tears hardened his heart. “She has always been strong. A little cold won’t kill her. She can recover later. But Isadora is fragile. If she keeps crying, she’ll do herself a permanent injury.” The icy wind bit at my skin as he dragged me out the door. I shivered violently. “Go!” I hissed to my handmaiden. “Get the Duke! Now!” Her face was streaked with tears. “His Grace left with your mother for Lady Isadora’s villa hours ago! He hasn’t returned!” My father shoved me into a carriage. I was wearing nothing but a thin bed robe. When we arrived at Isadora’s villa, her room was warmed by underfloor heating. She was wrapped in a thick fox-fur blanket, nestled in the arms of Duke Alistair. My mother was patiently coaxing her to drink a tonic. “There’s a good girl. It’s not bitter. Just a few sips.” Isadora took two small sips and pushed the bowl away, burying her face in Alistair’s chest. “My love,” she sobbed, “our baby is gone. It’s not fair! Why does she get to have your son, when our child never even had a chance to be born?” In that single, devastating moment, I understood everything. The child in Isadora’s womb was Alistair’s. My father, my mother, Alistair—they all knew. I was the only one in the dark. The marriage to the official was a sham, a cover to legitimize the birth of the Duke’s bastard. Of course. Alistair had always preferred her. If the old Queen hadn’t forced his hand, insisted he marry me for political alliance, he would have chosen Isadora in a heartbeat. It was no surprise she had secretly conceived his child. A wave of profound desolation washed over me. A gust of wind made me cough, a small, weak sound. It was only then that my mother seemed to notice me standing in the doorway. “What are you doing just standing there?” she snapped. “This is your fault!” She rose, pulled a long, stiff peacock feather from a vase, and pressed it into Isadora’s hand. “Here, my love. Your sister is here. If you are angry, take it out on her. It is not good to hold in such feelings.” She turned back to me, her voice cold. “A woman’s recovery is paramount. We cannot have you falling ill from grief.” She tried to force me to my knees to apologize. I stood rigid, my neck stiff with defiance. “She threw herself against a wall. How is that my fault?” My words sent Isadora into a fresh paroxysm of tears. “How could I dare to be angry with my sister?” she wailed. “She is the Duchess, and I… I am nothing!” Her performance was flawless. My father, my mother, and Alistair all looked at her with heartbroken pity. My mother fell to her knees before the Duke. “Your Grace, Isadora has sacrificed so much for you! Will you let her suffer this indignity without a name, without honor? Even her own sister dares to bully her now!” Alistair’s voice was thick with self-reproach. “It is my fault. I was too cowardly to defy my mother. I have made you suffer for years.” He gathered Isadora into his arms, wrapping the furs tighter around her. “Come. We are returning to the palace. Tomorrow, I will go to the Queen. I will demand she grant you the title of Royal Consort!” 3 I was forced into the carriage with them. Isadora, cradled in Alistair’s arms, met my gaze. A triumphant smirk played on her lips. I turned away, staring out the window, my mind racing. I had to get to the Queen. Isadora let out a delicate cough. “It’s so stuffy in here,” she murmured weakly. “The air is… heavy. I feel I might faint.” Her words sent them into a panic. Alistair’s eyes scanned the carriage, landing on me. “You. Get out. I’ll send someone to fetch you later.” We were on the busiest thoroughfare in the capital. I was in my bedclothes, my hair a mess, and he was going to throw me out onto the street. I refused, clinging to the carriage door. My father saw my defiance. He heard Isadora’s coughing grow more frequent, and his face twisted with worry. Without another word, he kicked me. Hard. I tumbled out of the carriage and landed in a heap on the cobblestones, in full view of the entire city. The carriage sped away. A murmur went through the crowd. Who was this woman? Some nobleman’s discarded mistress? I was freezing. I huddled in a darkened alleyway, trying to block out the whispers, praying Alistair would remember me and send someone. I waited for what felt like an eternity. Finally, a familiar voice cut through the noise. “Helena? What are you doing here?” I looked up into a face that was almost a perfect mirror of Alistair’s. It was his twin brother, Prince Brigham. He stared at me, then his gaze dropped to my flat stomach. “When did you give birth? Why did my mother not say anything?” He took in my disheveled state. “And why are you here, dressed like this?” He saw me shivering and, without hesitation, removed his own heavy cloak and wrapped it around me. It was the first act of simple human kindness I had received in so long that I burst into tears. Sobbing, I told him everything. As he listened, a vein pulsed in his temple. He helped me onto his horse. “I’m taking you to the palace. We will have justice for this.” But a sudden, chilling thought struck me. My son. He was still at the palace. If my father was willing to drown my child to avenge Isadora in one life, he would surely do it again in this one. “No,” I begged Brigham, “take me back to the ducal palace. And please, go to the Queen. She is the only one who can help me now.” I rushed into the palace grounds, my heart pounding. I found them in the inner courtyard. My father’s hands were wrapped around my infant son’s neck. He was hesitating, his hands trembling. Isadora was weeping. “When I look at him, I think of my own lost child. If only my baby had lived, I wouldn’t feel this torment every time I see my sister’s son.” My mother’s voice was a venomous hiss. “If you cannot bring yourself to do it, then take him to the lake. We will say Helena’s labor was too difficult, that the child was stillborn. The Queen will have no reason to doubt us.” My father, weak and suggestible, agreed. They started walking towards the ornamental lake, my baby in their arms. I stumbled after them, my legs weak, my body screaming in protest. I caught up to them just as they reached the water’s edge. “He is my son!” I screamed, clawing at them, trying to snatch my baby back. “I am your daughter! This child is your grandson! Why are you so determined to destroy us? Isadora is human, but am I not? Is this child not?” My mother tried to wrestle the baby from me. We struggled, a frantic, desperate tangle of limbs. My father kicked me in the stomach, sending both me and my son tumbling into the icy water. The cold was a shock, a brutal embrace that stole my breath. But I could swim. Despite the weakness from childbirth, I fought my way to the surface, holding my son’s head above the water, and swam towards the small pavilion in the center of the lake. I prayed with every fiber of my being. Please, let the Queen come quickly. My mother saw where I was headed. “Fools!” she shrieked at the guards. “Get a boat! Bring the Duchess back here! She has clearly sent for the Queen. If her majesty hears her lies, who knows what will happen to us. We must kill them both before she arrives! We’ll say they both died from the difficult birth!” “With her gone,” she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “the way is clear for Isadora to become the Duchess.” They found a boat and began to pole their way towards me. Just as they were closing in, a proclamation echoed from the palace gates. “Her Majesty, the Queen, has arrived!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393279”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was gravely ill. My son, Harper, and his wife, Kate, used their entire savings to pay for my treatment, caring for me with every ounce of their being. After I recovered, I signed over all my property to my daughter. To my surprise, my daughter-in-law was not pleased. I told her, “While I was sick, my daughter called to check on me every other day. She’s so devoted. What’s wrong with me giving her the house?” My son and his wife questioned me, their voices shaking with anger. “We cared for you day and night, spent tens of thousands of dollars on your treatment, and that doesn’t even compare to a few phone calls?” My answer was unhesitating. “Of course not.” … My son’s face turned ashen with rage, and my daughter-in-law burst into tears. “We sold our new home—the one we just bought—to pay for your treatment! If you give the house to Ramona, where are Harper and I supposed to live?” Harper stared at me, shocked. “Mom! When you were in the hospital, it was Kate and I who cleaned you, who dealt with your bedpan! Ramona just made a few phone calls! She never even came to see you!” His disappointment was raw and undisguised. “Kate quit her job to take care of you! How can you do something so unfair?” Kate collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. “If I had known what a horribly unreasonable person you were, I would have never married into this family! You’re a twisted old hag who favors her daughter over her son! From now on, let your precious daughter take care of you! I’m done!” Kate had always been a gentle, kind girl. I’d never seen her this hysterical. Seeing his wife so upset, Harper tried to reason with me. “Mom! It’s my duty to care for you, I know that. But Kate isn’t your blood. By rights, my sister should have been the one doing all this. I called her so many times when you were sick, I begged her to come, but she wouldn’t! How can you still believe she’s the devoted one?” Kate glared at me. “When we were short on money for your surgery, Harper and I were so desperate we were talking about selling a kidney! And your daughter? Do you know where she was while you were in the hospital? She was on vacation in Thailand! The price of one of her new handbags could have saved your life!” “You’re Harper’s mother. It’s our duty to care for you, to get you treatment. We never expected anything in return. But you can’t just kick us out of our own home so you can give everything to your daughter!” she cried. “You can hate me, your daughter-in-law, that’s fine! But Harper is your own son! How can you be so cruel to your own flesh and blood?” Harper looked at me, his eyes full of despair. “Mom, I know you dote on Ramona, but you can’t push me to my death just to favor her!” I said coldly, “I dote on my daughter because she would never plot against me! Not like you two, putting on a show of caring for me in the hospital just to get your hands on my property!” Furious, Kate stormed out and went back to her mother’s house. Harper, seething with anger, refused to speak to me. A few days later, my daughter, Ramona, returned from her vacation in Thailand. She even brought me a large Thai mango. My son exploded. “Ramona, don’t you know Mom is allergic to mangoes? She just had surgery! Are you trying to kill her?” I slapped him across the face. “Who said I’m allergic to mangoes? I think you just can’t stand to see your sister being good to me! You ungrateful brat! I’ve raised you all your life and you’ve never given me a single thing. If it weren’t for your sister, you would have worked me to death!” Harper clutched his cheek, his face a mask of disbelief. “Mom! Can you really only see your daughter? Can’t you see anything I’ve done for you? Have you forgotten who paid for your treatment, who stayed by your side day and night in the hospital?” He thought that would make me feel guilty. But what did I have to be guilty about? I took my daughter to have all the property deeds transferred to her name. I also gave her my pension card. I even packed up all the meat and nutritional supplements in the house into her car for her to take home. After seeing her off, I turned around and asked my son for money to buy groceries. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Mom, you gave the house, the money, and the steak and supplements I bought for you to Ramona, and now you’re asking me for grocery money?” His voice trembled. I could tell his anger had been building, and he was about to erupt. I said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Isn’t it a son’s duty to provide for his mother? Whoever heard of parents asking their daughter for grocery money? People would laugh their heads off!” Harper was completely stunned. Two lines of tears streamed down his face, and he looked utterly defeated. But he still gave me fifty dollars for groceries. I took the money, went to a restaurant, and treated myself to a nice meal. Then I bought a few plain bread rolls and went home. When I got back, Harper and Kate had a pot of congee simmering, waiting for vegetables to be added. Seeing the bread rolls in my hand, Kate was shocked. “Mom, didn’t Harper give you fifty dollars? Why did you only buy a few rolls? What are we supposed to eat?” I looked at her calmly. “I already ate out. A forty-eight-dollar steak dinner. The remaining two dollars was only enough for these.” Kate threw down the ladle in a fury. “How could you be so selfish? Don’t you know Harper and I were waiting for you to bring back food so we could cook? You could have at least bought a head of cabbage!” I retorted indignantly, “I’m a patient recovering from a serious illness, and you want me to eat cabbage? I see what this is. You two ungrateful children just want to make my life miserable!” Harper started to scold me, but I glared at him and collapsed onto the floor, wailing. “Oh, my poor husband, you died too soon! You left me with this monster who won’t even let me eat! Why didn’t you just take me with you?” Seeing me like this, Harper, though still angry, didn’t dare say another word. That evening, he came back with a large bag of groceries. Kate was clearly furious with me, but she still placed the best piece of fish in front of me. “Eat up. Once you’re fully recovered, I’m never taking care of you again.” I slammed the plate on the floor. “You dare serve me a fish that costs a few dollars? Do you have any idea that the fish your sister buys for me costs hundreds? Being with you two has been nothing but suffering!” This time, tears of pure rage streamed down Harper’s face. “Mom! Ramona hasn’t cooked a single meal for you all year! The last time you ate fish she made was three years ago! How can you be so biased? If she fed you dynamite, you’d probably still think she was wonderful!” I slammed my hand on the table. “Ah, so your true colors are showing! I knew you had bad intentions! Now that you didn’t get the money and the house, you’re plotting to blow me up, aren’t you?” “Get out! Both of you ungrateful animals, get out of my house!” Harper stared at me, dumbfounded. “But… all our money went to your surgery. We don’t even have enough for a deposit on a rental! Where are we supposed to go?” I shot him a look of disgust. “Oh, so now you’re keeping score on the money you spent to save your mother’s life? You think it was a waste, don’t you? You probably wish you had just let me die!” “I don’t care where you go! Just get out and I hope I never see you again for the rest of my life!” Harper never imagined I could be so heartless. That night, he and Kate moved out. After they left, they had no money for food. He tried to borrow twenty dollars from me to buy rice, but I refused. My son, sobbing, started slapping his own face in despair. “I don’t have a mother as cruel as you! You don’t want to see me? Fine! I’ll go! I’ll go so far away you’ll never see me again!” Not long after, Kate called and cursed me out. It turned out she had been pregnant. But from the exhaustion of caring for me, compounded by the poor nutrition from eating nothing but bread rolls, she had a miscarriage. After that, our relationship deteriorated completely. I heard from a neighbor that Harper and Kate had gone abroad to work, trying to earn money to pay off their debts. In the blink of an eye, five years passed. Harper never came to see me. I never contacted him. But today, I had to send him a message. I was dying. He needed to come back for my funeral. 2 My funeral was a simple, pathetic affair. In the past few years, my daughter had developed a gambling addiction and lost all the property and my pension. She was so destitute she couldn’t even afford a coffin. A dirty sheet served as my shroud, my body laid out unceremoniously in the center of the hall. Despite the grim setting, the scene was lively. My son and daughter-in-law had made a fortune abroad and returned in glory, inviting all our relatives to my funeral. But they weren’t here to mourn me. They were here to expose my wicked deeds to the world. To that end, they had even hired a popular online streamer, known for covering emotional family dramas, to broadcast the event live. My son stood before my body, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I hear my mother died from a relapse of her old illness. I hear she was so poor she couldn’t even afford to go to the hospital, that she died in agony at home and her body was only discovered after it had started to rot and stink.” “That can’t be right,” he continued, a cruel smile on his face. “My mother had so many houses, so much money. She was so sure her daughter was the most devoted child in the world. What happened? Did her devoted daughter not take her to the doctor?” “I remember when Kate and I first got married. We scraped and borrowed from everyone we knew just to make the down payment on our apartment. When my mother got sick and needed surgery, we sold that apartment without a second thought to pay for her treatment!” “To take care of her, Kate even quit her job!” “My mother was bedridden, unable to move. It was Kate and I who cleaned her, who dealt with everything.” “And what did she do? The moment she was out of the hospital, she gave all her houses and money to my sister. Why? Because my sister was so ‘devoted’ she made a few phone calls!” “My mother would pack up all the food in the house for my sister, then turn around and demand money from me. I gave her the last fifty dollars I had. And what did she do with it? She treated herself to a steak dinner and brought back a few stale bread rolls for Kate and me!” “She knew we had sold our home for her, yet she still forced us out! When we were starving and tried to borrow twenty dollars from her, she screamed at us in the middle of the street!” Kate wiped away her tears. “We were deep in debt because of her surgery. We had to go abroad and take on grueling, under-the-table jobs. We worked from dawn till dusk for years, aging decades in the process, just to get back on our feet!” “But I suppose we should thank her,” she added, her voice bitter. “If she hadn’t been so monstrously biased, my husband and I would never have worked so hard. So hard that our bodies are broken, so hard that having another child is now difficult for us.” In front of the camera, my son and daughter-in-law relentlessly recounted my cruelty. The live stream chat exploded with rage against me. 【Is that even a mother? She’s a demon! They should have just let her die in the first place!】 【Look at this pathetic funeral. Seems like the old hag’s favorite daughter didn’t treat her so well in the end.】 【I’m their neighbor, I can confirm! The daughter is a real piece of work. She was always hitting and cursing at the old woman. When her mom got sick again, she didn’t care. She just took her money to the casino!】 【There’s a limit to favoritism! The son and daughter-in-law were so devoted, and the daughter was abusive. The old crone still insisted on giving her everything. I wonder if she ever regretted it.】 “I don’t regret it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393295”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The Dragon Lords’ arrogance angered the Celestials, cursing them with barrenness. Only a Golden Dragon hatched from the abyssal Heartstone Egg could break the curse—but it required a maiden’s heartblood for a century. I, Emma, Siren Princess, was betrothed to the Dragon Prince after my birth omens. In my past life, I nourished the Egg with my lifeblood for a hundred years. When the Golden Dragon finally hatched, my husband brought home a Lamia enchantress. He forced me to weave sea-silk for her, then slaughtered my people to fuel his palace lights. Dying, my blood-tears hardened into crimson pearls— Then I awoke on my wedding day. There stood Caelus, clasping the Lamia’s hand. “She alone holds my heart,” he declared, as the Heartstone Egg pulsed faintly for her. They thought they’d chosen wisely. They never questioned why the heavens had marked my birth… 1 “Caelus, my son, today is your wedding day. From this moment, Emma is your princess.” The old Dragon King’s booming laughter echoed through the grand hall, but I could only stare, numb, at the ceremonial gown I wore. This was… this was the day I married Caelus. I was back. “I’ll not marry this woman!” Caelus snarled, shoving my hand away. Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell, a sharp, searing pain shooting up from my knee. The assembled guests gasped. The union of the Dragon Prince and the Siren Princess was a destiny forged at birth; what was the meaning of this public humiliation? The Dragon King’s brow furrowed. “Insolence! On this auspicious day, what is the meaning of this tantrum?” I lowered my gaze, hiding the icy chill in my eyes. A dragon’s legacy was paramount. The Heartstone Eggs were exceedingly rare, and a dragon could only ever sire a single heir. The current king doted on Caelus, treating him as a priceless treasure. And my birth, which had sent ripples of pure essence through the oceans and filled the air with celestial music, had sealed my fate in the King’s eyes. He had waited impatiently for me to come of age to bind our destinies. In the life I remembered, I had endured the pain, carving out my own heart’s blood again and again to feed that stone until a small Golden Dragon emerged. I had hatched him, and I had raised him. Though he did not come from my womb, I had considered him my own son. I thought that life, that duty, would be my forever. Until the day Caelus brought home the Lamia, and everything changed. “Father, I will not marry her!” Caelus’s voice, sharp and defiant, ripped me from my reverie. The King’s face hardened. “My son, on any other matter, I would indulge you. But not this! Emma is the most powerful maiden in all the oceans. With her essence to aid you, you are certain to sire the strongest of heirs!” Caelus lifted his chin, his pride a palpable force. “What does it have to do with her? Father, why do you insist on giving credit to an outsider? My child will be quickened by my essence, bound to my blood. My lineage is noble; of course I will produce the strongest Golden Dragon!” Not wishing to openly clash with his son, the King reined in his anger. “But without a consort to nurture the egg, it will become a dead stone! Caelus, this is no time for games. Marry her. Let her help you hatch the egg. If you wish to take other women after, we can discuss it then.” “I understand, Father. But I have already chosen my princess,” Caelus declared. “And she is a thousand times better than this Siren!” A murmur rippled through the crowd. “Is the prince joking? The Siren princess’s birth was a divine portent. How could any other be her equal?” “Perhaps he is merely spiting her? A lover’s quarrel?” “But what if it’s true? If not for the King’s favor, would the Sirens hold their current station? I’ve never trusted them…” Caelus’s posture straightened, fueled by the whispers. “I will bring her here now, and we will be wed!” He transformed, a streak of incandescent silver, and shot away. I heard him whisper as he left, a vow carried on the currents: “Sylvie, wait for me. This time, no one will stand between us!” I was left abandoned at the altar. The hall erupted. “What now? Is the ceremony off?” “The Siren princess has been forsaken!” “But they always seemed so close… could there be more to this story?” The whispers grew louder, and the King’s face grew darker. Unable to unleash his fury on his beloved son, he turned it on me. “Emma! My son has always been a dutiful boy. What did you do to wrong him?” Seeing his accusatory glare, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I was about to ask you the same. Is this the honor of the Dragon Lords? My people may not be as mighty as yours, but we are not to be trifled with!” 2 “Father, this is the woman I truly love! I will marry her!” Just as the tension reached its peak, Caelus returned, his voice urgent. He was holding the hand of a woman of ethereal, fragile beauty. It was her. Sylvie, the Lamia he had cherished in our past life. Then, he had been the newly crowned king, returning from a tour of his domain with her in tow. He’d claimed she was a poor, adrift soul, deserving of pity. I’d felt a prickle of unease but had thought nothing more of it. Soon, Caelus doted on her, and my own son, Roric, clung to her side, leaving me to drown in the endless affairs of the court. I tried to speak to Caelus, but he cut me off with impatience. “I never knew you were so prone to jealousy! Sylvie has a pure heart, unlike you and your cunning manipulations. Besides,” he’d sneered, “isn’t this what you Sirens wanted all along? A way to claw your way into the dragon’s court?” So that’s what he saw. My love was nothing but ambition. Later, I accidentally uncovered the Lamia’s dark secret. Horrified, I ran to tell Caelus, only to find him overseeing the mass slaughter of my people. It was because Sylvie had complained that the deep sea was too dark, that the glow-orbs weren’t bright enough. She’d heard tales of the warm, bright lanterns of the surface world and yearned for them. To win her smile, Caelus had my people butchered, their bodies rendered into a luminous oil—Siren’s Light—to make the Dragon Palace blaze day and night. He imprisoned me, forcing me to watch. I wept, and my tears of blood fell to the floor, hardening into crimson pearls with a soft clatter. And Roric, the Golden Dragon I had nurtured with my own lifeblood, eagerly gathered them up. He presented them to Sylvie like a prize. “Lady Sylvie,” he’d chirped, “your wedding gown was missing some beautiful blood-pearls, wasn’t it?” Caelus embraced her from behind, his voice a possessive murmur. “My love, in a moment, we’ll have this Siren princess flayed. We’ll see if she burns any differently from the others.” My tears ran dry. In my final moments, the sound that tore from my throat was not the beautiful, haunting song of my people. It was a shriek of pure, hopeless despair. The death cry of a Siren. And the very oceans trembled with it. I blinked, the memory receding. The crowd around me was in an uproar. “This Lamia… she cannot possibly compare to the Siren princess!” “The Prince’s whims have a limit! The fate of the entire Dragon lineage is at stake!” The King, his pride wounded, spoke with a voice of thunder. “Caelus! If you fancy this serpent, you may keep her as a pet later. Do not disrupt the vital proceedings!” “Father, I am doing this for our lineage! I have seen it! The egg holds a Golden Dragon! And this Siren will only taint his perfection!” Caelus’s words silenced the entire hall. The King had spoken of a prophecy, that a Golden Dragon could break their curse. But one had never been successfully hatched. A legend claimed one had been born a millennium ago, only to perish mysteriously. Since then, the Dragons had been cursed by the Celestials, their power fading with each generation. Caelus, a Silver Dragon, was the best their bloodline had produced in centuries. 3 “Caelus, how do you know this?” the King asked. His disbelief was clear, but his tone had softened. Caelus swelled with pride, describing the Golden Dragon of our past life in vivid detail. Golden scales, five-clawed talons, a being of immense, innate power. His account was so precise that the King was almost convinced, believing his son had been blessed with the gift of foresight. “And this egg has nothing to do with Emma!” Caelus declared. “Even with a different consort, his noble blood remains unchanged!” As if remembering something, he produced the Heartstone Egg from a fold in his robes. “Words are wind. I have proof!” All eyes turned, eager to see the vessel of their salvation. But it was just as I remembered—a plain, unremarkable stone. Caelus tapped the egg lightly. It trembled, wobbling as if searching for something. “What is this? The egg can choose its mother?” the King murmured in astonishment. Caelus smiled triumphantly and placed the egg in Sylvie’s hands. Instantly, the dull stone began to emit a soft, golden light. “It must be a Golden Dragon! Why else would it glow?” “A miracle! The Dragon Lords will rise again!” Some of the older dragons were already weeping with joy. The hall was electric with hope. Only I stood motionless, a silent, cold observer in the midst of their celebration. The King’s face was split by a massive grin. “My son, you are truly magnificent!” “Father, now do you see? Now will you let me marry Sylvie?” Caelus pressed, his joy barely contained.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393229”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was abducted as a child. When I finally escaped and found my way back, I discovered I was the true heiress of the wealthy Hayes family. But my biological parents didn’t love me. They loved the girl who had taken my place. During an emergency surgery, my parents were clad in full protective gear, and my brother, Wesley, shielded the fake heiress, Stella, like a human wall. No one told me the patient had HIV. No one told me I needed to wear a biohazard suit. And so, with a fresh cut on my hand, I was exposed. After cheating death, the fragile thread of family affection, already worn thin, finally snapped. I was done hoping. The moment the surgery ended, I calmly dialed a number. “I need to file a report. A colleague intentionally withheld a patient’s medical history, leading to my occupational exposure.” “Winnie, why aren’t you in a hazmat suit?!” My colleague Jenna’s shocked voice echoed from the doorway, her eyes wide with a terror I didn’t understand. I froze, confused. “What’s wrong?” I asked. I hadn’t heard anything about the patient having an infectious disease. Jenna recoiled as if I were the plague itself, backing away until she was plastered against the far wall. “This patient has HIV and syphilis! You can’t have contact! Didn’t Dr. Hayes tell you?” “Oh my god, are you insane? You went into surgery with zero protection?” “You’re too young to want a death sentence! Didn’t they teach you anything in nursing school?” …HIV? My gaze drifted to my parents, cocooned in their pristine protective gear, and then to my brother, Wesley, who stood guard in front of Stella. For a moment, my mind went blank. HIV. A virus that medicine has yet to conquer. Once you have it, you have it for life. My heart stuttered, missing a beat, then another. I turned stiffly to face the brother who had so carefully protected the other girl. He was the hospital’s top anesthesiologist. Reviewing a patient’s history was his job. The accusation died on my lips. I tried to force a joke. “Wes, Jenna’s kidding, right? I didn’t hear anything about an infectious—” “The patient is HIV-positive,” he cut in, his voice flat. “This was an emergency. I didn’t have time to tell you.” Didn’t have time to tell me? The smile froze on my face. My own brother dismissed my life with those four careless words. “Winnie, you’ve always been strong. It’ll be fine,” he continued. “Stella is delicate, that’s why I didn’t let her assist. Weren’t you always complaining that we play favorites? Now you get to take the lead. You should be happy.” I couldn’t hear the rest of what he said. A roar filled my ears. My face drained of color, my hands trembling uncontrollably as a hot mist of tears blurred my vision. In the ringing silence, I screamed. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” This was a communicable, life-altering disease! Even if I weren’t their daughter, their sister—even if I were just a stranger, a colleague—they had a duty to inform me of the patient’s history. My heart turned to a block of ice. Then I heard my mother’s impatient sigh. “Winnie, can you not be such a buzzkill?” “Your father and I knew you’d make a scene. That’s why we agreed not to tell you. You’re always so dramatic, such a downer.” “Besides,” she added, “you’re just a nurse. What does it matter if you know or not? Stella knows the patient’s history, and she’s standing right here, isn’t she?” A bitter, broken laugh escaped my lips. “She’s as far away as possible and wrapped in more plastic than a Christmas toy! How is that the same?!” My voice cracked. “Mom, Dad, Wesley… she’s the apple of your eye, but am I not your daughter? Your sister? Why would you hide something like this from me?” Silence. The surgery continued, their movements precise and undisturbed. My father didn’t even deign to look at me. Only after he’d stitched the final suture did he snap, “Winnie, you are being incredibly childish!” “What happens in this family, stays in this family! Have your mother and I taught you nothing? You don’t air our dirty laundry in public!” 2 His tone was pure reprimand. But who could remain calm, learning they might have just contracted HIV? Especially when I had an open wound on my hand. I stared at them, a horrifying realization dawning. From the moment I entered the operating room, they had been bundled up, double-masked, wearing goggles and two layers of rubber gloves. The entire time, Wesley had kept Stella protectively behind him, never letting her get close. I had thought she was just squeamish. And with my parents barking orders at me, I was so busy, sweating through my scrubs, that I hadn’t paid any mind to their strange attire. It wasn’t just a precaution. It was a transfer of risk. They were so terrified of Stella being endangered that they’d given the “opportunity” to me. My hand trembled more violently. My mind spiraled, imagining a future of agonizing treatments… My mother’s voice cut through my panic, sharp and scolding. “The surgery’s over. Did anything happen to you? No. I swear, you are such a drama queen!” But the virus has an incubation period! I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice water. My body finally caught up with my mind. I bolted from the OR, scrubbed my skin raw, and choked down the post-exposure prophylaxis. I washed my hands again and again until my muscles gave out and I collapsed against the wall. Tears I could no longer control streamed down my face. Wesley is terrible at eating on schedule. Just last night, worried he’d be hungry during his shift, I’d cooked his favorite braised pork. And, as fate would have it, I’d sliced my index finger while cutting the meat. When I brought him the container, I’d mentioned it casually. “Cut myself. It stings a little.” Wesley had gotten the first-aid kit, bandaged my finger himself, and told me to be careful. He was the top graduate of his class. He knew better than anyone that HIV transmission is far more likely with an open wound. Especially when the patient was coughing up blood. Did my brother actually want me to die? … As I waited for the initial test results, my heart hammered against my ribs. Meanwhile, my parents, finished with their work, didn’t spare a thought for where I was. As they passed me in the hall, they didn’t even glance in my direction. They flanked Stella, each holding one of her hands, their faces soft with affection. “My sweet girl,” my father murmured, “you worked so hard today. What do you want for dinner?” “That new sushi place?” my mother cooed. “Of course. Our treat. Let’s go.” My mouth opened, but no words came out. I just watched them walk away, a wave of dissociation washing over me. Ever since they’d found me, they had never once called me by a term of endearment. It was always a clipped, simple: “Winnie, come here.” “Winnie, dinner’s ready.” “Winnie, your sister needs help with her homework.” After I started at the hospital, their tone became exclusively one of command. “What are you standing there for?” “Didn’t you hear me? We’re having a family dinner. Keep up.” That thought snapped me back to the present. I looked up at Wesley. He was frowning, wearing that same unapproachable mask that kept the world at bay. Maybe it was the tear tracks on my face, but his tone softened, a rare occurrence. “Not telling you about the patient’s history was an oversight on my part. I’m sorry.” “But Dad’s promotion to Vice-Chair is on the line. Once that goes through, it’ll benefit you here at the hospital. So can you just drop it? We’re busy.” He paused, then added as an afterthought, “And Stella’s already clocked out. You need to write up her reports for her. I’ll text you the location of the restaurant later.” “And after the scene you just made, Mom and Dad are furious. You should apologize to them tonight.” It was still an order. Distant, detached. As if he were speaking to a subordinate. 3 Benefit me? The words were so absurd, I laughed. And once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Oh, Wesley. How could any of this possibly benefit me? From the day I started at this hospital, I’d been given the grunt work, the heaviest loads. Stella, on the other hand, was treated like a porcelain doll. My parents, terrified she might overexert herself, told every senior staff member that she was young and couldn’t handle hardship. Once, I overheard my mother telling a supervisor, “Don’t give Stella too much work.” “But you can give the menial tasks to Winnie. She didn’t grow up with us. She’s tough.” She glossed over the truth so neatly. She ignored the fact that I was “tough” because I’d been abducted and sold. She only saw that I could endure, while her precious Stella could not. Stella’s grades were so poor that no hospital wanted her. It was my parents who pulled strings to get her a position here. During my entire internship, I’d been doing the work of two people, writing two sets of reports. Most days, I didn’t even have time to eat, collapsing into bed the moment I got home. This was a benefit? A sour knot formed in my throat. I fought back a sob, my voice rising to a sharp point. “Wesley, doesn’t my life matter to you? It’s HIV! If I get it, I have it for life! I’m only twenty years old! If I’m infected, the consequences are unimaginable…” He cut me off before I could finish, his frown deepening. He sneered, his tone turning nasty. “Are you going to milk this for all it’s worth?” “Winnie, you’re fine now, aren’t you? You’re a nurse, for God’s sake. Can you stop being so fragile? I thought after we found you, you’d become independent, resilient…” He shook his head in disappointment, as if passing a final sentence on me. “But I see now you’re a lost cause.” The words were a cruel irony. My heart, once swollen with emotion, felt like a deflated balloon—limp and defeated. I suddenly remembered the day they brought me home. I was clutching Wesley’s hand, my other hand twisting the hem of my faded, threadbare dress, my heart pounding. Be calm, I told myself. Make them like you. Don’t let them send you away. And then— Stella appeared at the top of the grand, sweeping staircase, a vision in an expensive princess gown. She descended step by step, stopping in front of me to look me up and down. Then, with a practiced innocence, she asked, “Wesley, who is she? Is she the new maid?” Wesley’s jaw tightened. His grip on my hand grew firm, but he never denied it. He only said, “From now on, she’s your sister.” … At first, I was resentful. Because of my parents’ negligence, I was lost for five years, eventually sold to a rural family as a child bride. There, I had to cook, clean, and care for an invalid “grandmother” who was bedridden and incontinent. I had to fend off the advances of the family’s lecherous old bachelor son. I refused to give up. I studied relentlessly. It was only when the family let their guard down that I made my escape, walking for three days and three nights to the nearest town to call the police. I thought, after all that, I was finally coming home. But there was no place for me here. Stella was already the family’s untouchable treasure. After I was lost, my parents had channeled all their guilt and affection onto the girl who bore a passing resemblance to me. Most of the time, their bias was unconscious. But it was always there. Once, I reached for a piece of beef at dinner, and my father snapped, “Your sister likes that. Can’t you wait until she’s had her fill? Why are you so greedy? It’s not like you’ve never had it before.” But I hadn’t. Not in a very, very long time. I silently put down my chopsticks. I pushed the serving dish closer to Stella, swallowing my anger, swallowing my words. I was terrified that if I stepped out of line, they would abandon me, and I’d be sent back to that rural hell. I tried to be accommodating. I gave up so much. Three years ago, I even gave up the boy I had a secret crush on. Wasn’t it enough? Why wouldn’t my family just accept me? … A long time passed. Long enough for my colleagues to clock out and leave for the day. Wesley glanced at his phone, his patience wearing thin. “Just get over it. Jenna told me you already took the PEP. You’ll be fine.” A notification popped up on his screen. He glanced at it, then shot me a cold smirk. “Stella’s worried you’re going to have a breakdown. She asked me to comfort you.” “You don’t have the life of a princess, but you certainly have the attitude.” I snapped out of my daze, licking my dry lips. My throat felt tight, but I managed to say, “Okay. Thank her for me.” The truth was, I was hurt. So deeply hurt. Who could be treated this way by their own family and just laugh it off? But I knew, even if the pain killed me, no one here would care. My parents would just call me dramatic. My sister would just wipe her crocodile tears and say, “Oh, sister, if only I had been the one who was taken…” Wesley seemed taken aback by my compliance. He faltered for a second before snapping, “Look at you. What a mess.” Without waiting for a reply, he rushed off, presumably to the sushi dinner. After he left, I stood frozen for a long time. My family’s words echoed in my ears, each one a fresh wave of heartache. “When will you ever be as considerate as your sister?” “Why do you always walk around with that dead look on your face? What do we owe you?” “If you make Stella cry again, you can get out of this house!” Those merciless words were a razor-sharp knife, severing the last, tender strand of connection I had to this family. Abducted at eleven; found at sixteen. I had spent five years walking on eggshells, making myself small. Finally, at twenty, I understood. My own flesh and blood truly did not care if I lived or died. A laugh bubbled up from my chest. I felt something inside me, a place I had reserved only for family, begin to crack and shatter. A knife appeared, methodically slicing away the thing called “kinship.” The wound healed, scarred over, reformed into something new. I placed a hand over my beating heart. And I was surprised to find… I really didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about my parents’ love. I didn’t care about my brother’s approval. And I certainly didn’t care about my sister’s constant provocations. My hands felt clumsy as I pulled out my phone and dialed the number for the State Medical Board. The words I had buried for so long finally came pouring out. “I need to report my colleagues for concealing a patient’s HIV status, resulting in my occupational exposure.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393247”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The third time Professor Pierce ignored my question, a live feed materialized in front of me, text scrolling through the air. 「Go, hero, go! A true gentleman, ignores everyone but Sera. 10/10.」 「Get lost, you snake. Stop getting in the way of Julian and Sera’s epic romance!」 One comment, glowing a furious red, stood out. 「Seriously? He’s a professor. It’s his job to answer questions. If he only wants to teach the heroine, he should just offer private tutoring.」 And that’s when it hit me. I was the villainess of this story, denied even the right to ask the male lead a simple question. The moment I understood, I dropped his class and found a new mentor. Later, after I won the Grand Championship in the Mech Artificer competition and became the nation’s newest Grandmaster, Julian Pierce appeared on stage, his arms full of flowers, his eyes soft. “Luna,” he said, “if you ever have any technical questions, you know you can always come to me.” I offered him a smile as distant as a dying star. “I have my own master to answer my questions, but thank you. Perhaps you should use this time to comfort your dear Sera. She looks like she’s about to cry.” It seems that without the villainess to drive the plot, the hero and heroine’s halos don’t shine quite so brightly. 1 “Professor, I have a question. Why does this set of components keep slipping after assembly?” It was the Q&A session in Mech Engineering, Section 7. I was the first to raise my hand, eager to ask Professor Julian Pierce for help. His eyes flickered over me for a fraction of a second before moving on, settling on Seraphina, the girl in the front row who was dozing off. The moment his gaze landed on her, his expression softened. He tapped her desk, his voice a stern but gentle caress. “Miss Seraphina, do you have any questions?” I blinked, stunned, and raised my hand a little higher. “Professor, I have a—” A soft groan from Seraphina cut me off. She stretched luxuriously, yawned, and then looked up at him with a bewildered expression. “A question? About what? This assembly is so simple. Don’t you know how to do it, Professor?” The class erupted in laughter. Professor Pierce sighed, a look of helpless fondness on his face. “Go back to sleep.” He addressed the class again. “If there are no other questions, that’s all for today. Go to the materials lab, pick up one set of Part Five and one set of Part Six. Assemble them at home. I’ll check them tomorrow.” I shot to my feet, my voice rising. “Professor, I have a question!” It was as if he couldn’t hear me. He cast one last look at Seraphina, who was already slumped back over her desk, and then turned and walked out of the classroom. I sank back into my seat, a hot wave of humiliation and anger washing over me. Why did he always ignore me? Every single time I tried to ask him something, he acted as if I didn’t exist. If he treated everyone this way, it might not have stung so much. But his favoritism toward Seraphina was blatant. If Sera had a question, he would answer with infinite patience. If she didn’t, he would personally ask if she understood the lesson. We were all his students. Why the hell was he treating us so differently? It made me burn with jealousy, and I couldn’t help but resent her for it. As my glare threatened to bore a hole through her back, the feed appeared again, words drifting in the air before me. 「Yes, King! Protect your queen! He only has eyes for Sera.」 2 I stared at the floating text. King? Were they talking about Professor Pierce? 「Ugh, that snake Luna needs to just disappear. Stop getting in the way of Julian and Sera’s relationship!」 I’m Luna. Since when was I a snake? And a relationship? They’d only known each other for a week. Another comment, this one in bold red, scrolled past, echoing my own thoughts. 「This is messed up. A professor’s duty is to teach his students. If he’s only going to focus on the heroine, he should just be her private tutor.」 Exactly! That’s exactly right! If you’re a teacher, you treat everyone the same. Why should Seraphina get special treatment? The lines of text kept coming, and with them, the answer. We were living in a novel. And I was the designated villainess. In this story, I was in love with Julian Pierce. I couldn’t stand seeing him be so kind to Seraphina, so I constantly targeted her. According to the feed, my next move was to steal her materials to make her fail the assignment. But the plot would twist. She would use the incomplete set of materials to build an even more powerful component, shattering the existing performance records for that part. Her genius would catch the eye of a legendary Grandmaster, who would take her on as his personal apprentice. Meanwhile, the component I slaved over all night wouldn’t even be deemed worthy of testing before being tossed into the recycling bin. Right on cue, we were all collecting our materials. If you weren’t eating in the campus dining hall, you could go home. Seraphina casually tossed her materials onto her desk, patted her stomach, and smacked her lips. She nudged her deskmate. “Kira, dining hall?” Her deskmate was Kira, an ice queen who preferred to be alone. I had tried to be friendly with her several times, but she’d given me the cold shoulder. Now, after less than a week of knowing Seraphina, she was like a different person. Her frosty eyes seemed to melt. Though her expression remained neutral, her voice was soft. “Yeah.” The feed went wild. 「See? No one can resist our sunshine girl, Sera!」 「Anyone else: ‘Get lost.’ Sera asks: ‘Yeah.’ The ice queen and the sunshine girl. I ship it.」 「LOL, Luna the snake is about to have a meltdown!」 I’ll admit, it stung. My family was wealthy, and I’d been doted on my entire life. I was used to having a circle of “friends” constantly trying to win my favor. I’d never been the one to initiate friendship. Except for with Julian Pierce. And with Kira. And both of them treated me with utter disdain while putting Seraphina on a pedestal. How could I not be furious? As I watched them walk away, I clenched my jaw and glanced at Seraphina’s materials. Just as they reached the door, Kira paused. “You’re just leaving your stuff on the desk? Will it be okay?” Seraphina stuck out her tongue. “What could happen? Let’s go, let’s go, I’m starving!” The feed flashed a warning. 「Sera, baby, be careful! The snake is about to steal your parts!」 「Go, brave Sera! No fear! Even if Luna steals her stuff, Sera will do it a hundred times better!」 Steal? My pride would never let me stoop so low. I gave the materials one last look, then turned and walked out. I’d like to see how the girl who slept through the entire lecture was going to do a hundred times better than me. 3 “Look, there’s a sliding mechanism here. You have to push this piece in, then lock the component underneath into place. That should do it.” Professor Alan Shaw, the instructor for Section 1, patiently explained the solution to my problem. The light bulb went on in my head. I followed his instructions, and the assembly clicked together perfectly. “Thank you, Professor Shaw!” I beamed. He waved it off. “It’s a common mistake. Most students overlook that detail and fail the assembly. The fact that you noticed it on your first try is impressive.” I lifted my chin proudly. I was, after all, the top-ranked student in the Mech Engineering department. It wasn’t just for show. But according to the feed, I wouldn’t be number one for long. My grades were about to plummet because I’d become so consumed with envy and hatred for Seraphina that I’d forget to improve myself. As if, I thought. I’m not stupid enough to waste my time trying to sabotage her. Why would I target another talented woman over a man with questionable professional ethics? Was I insane? Speaking of which, how did she create that higher-performance component? Was it possible that this assembly didn’t actually require all these materials? With that question burning in my mind, I started disassembling the part I had just completed. Professor Shaw looked puzzled. “That was a solid build. It would have tested above 90% efficiency. Why are you taking it apart?” Mechs are graded from Level 1 to 10, with each level having low, mid, and high-tier classifications. Components are the same. A part needs at least 80% performance data to be usable. Below 85% is low-grade, 85-90% is mid-grade, and above 90% is high-grade. The Part Six we received today was for a Level 2 mech. The current market record for it was 96.8%. But in the novel, Seraphina’s version reached an astonishing 98.91%. I don’t deny that geniuses exist. But I’m one of them. If she could do it, so could I. I pressed my lips together. “I want to see if I can do better.” A smile of appreciation spread across Professor Shaw’s face. “I like your spirit. That’s a great attitude to have.” His tone then became a little wistful. “Why did you transfer to Section 7, anyway? With your grades, Section 1 is a much better fit.” I was originally in Section 1. I only transferred because of Julian Pierce. Three years ago, my family was taken hostage by star pirates during a vacation. Julian, a mech pilot at the time, led the rescue team that saved us. He fulfilled every fantasy I ever had about a hero. I worshipped him. As I got older, that worship blossomed into a crush. When I found out he was teaching at my academy—in Section 7—I immediately requested a transfer to be closer to him. It had only taken one week to shatter that perfect image. “Professor Shaw, you’re right,” I said. “Section 1 is a better fit. Can I apply to transfer back?” 4 Professor Shaw’s eyes lit up. He immediately pulled open a drawer and started rummaging for a form. “Of course! Anytime! You keep working on your component, I’ll fill out the transfer application for you!” Watching him scribble away eagerly, I couldn’t help but smile. Whatever the feed said, I had no intention of being a supporting character in someone else’s story. I didn’t care how their plot developed. My goal was, and always had been, singular: to become a Grandmaster Artificer. … I didn’t sleep that night. I assembled and disassembled the two parts over and over, until my hands were raw and blistered. But finally, I discovered a new method. As dawn broke, I headed to the academy with dark circles under my eyes, carrying my finished components to find Professor Shaw for data testing. When he saw the pile of leftover materials I hadn’t used, his jaw nearly hit the floor. He rushed me to the testing lab and placed my component in the diagnostic machine. Three seconds later, a set of numbers lit up the display. 5 “Who took Miss Seraphina’s materials? If you come forward now, I’ll overlook it. But if I find out who it was…” I was five minutes late for class. As I reached the door, I heard Professor Pierce’s cold, hard voice. “Then I will ensure that a student with such poor character is expelled from this academy.” What was going on? Did Seraphina’s materials go missing after all? I glanced around. Seraphina looked unconcerned, Kira looked indifferent, and the rest of the class just looked confused. The feed was scrolling frantically. 「Check the security cams, hurry! Before Luna deletes the footage!」 I rolled my eyes. I didn’t steal anything, why would I delete the footage? “Permission to enter,” I called out. Professor Pierce narrowed his eyes at me, not letting me in. “Miss Seraphina’s materials are missing. Are you aware of this?” I nodded. “I am now. You just said so.” He let out a long, meaningful “Ohhh.” Then he asked, “And what are your thoughts on the matter?” His tone and expression infuriated me. “She lost them, so she should find them. What other thoughts could I have? If you don’t know how, Professor, I’d be happy to help you pull the security footage.” My attitude seemed to surprise him. His brow furrowed. “Whoever dared to steal them wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave the footage behind.” “Speaking of which,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine, “why are you so late today? What were you doing?” He might as well have just announced to the entire class that my tardiness was due to me tampering with the security system. As expected, his words made every student in the room look at me with suspicion. The scrolling feed was just as annoying. 「Pierce is in protective husband mode!」 「Yes, King! You deserve a wife like her!」 I ignored him, walked straight into the classroom, and went to my seat. “What I do is my business, not yours,” I said coolly. “And as for the footage, even if it’s deleted, I can restore it. Just because you can’t, Professor, doesn’t mean I can’t. Don’t worry, I’ll get your precious Sera the justice she deserves.” Then, right in front of everyone, I made a call. “Dad, a student in my class lost something. Could you have someone pull the security footage for me?” After I hung up, Seraphina turned to look at me, her expression dismissive. “Luna, there’s no need to go to all that trouble. The materials are gone, so be it. I’ll just get another set and start over. I hope the professor can give me a little more time.” So this time, she had lost all her materials. She clasped her hands together, blinked playfully at Professor Pierce, and pouted. “Please?” He chuckled, completely charmed. “You. You just don’t care about anything, do you? But this is about more than just some missing parts.” I cut him off. “The components we build are collected by the factory. Not a single one can be missing.” The materials we used were supplied directly by a major mech corporation. The parts we made were sent directly back to them for use. “At its simplest, this is a case of missing materials. At its worst, it affects the trust and partnership between this academy and the corporation! This must be investigated thoroughly!” I had another reason for pushing this. My father was on the academy’s board of directors, and my mother owned the corporation. What was stolen was, essentially, my family’s property. Of course I wanted it found. I wanted to shove the truth in the faces of every single person who doubted me. With a directive from a board member, it took less than thirty minutes for the Dean of Students to arrive at Section 7 with security and the surveillance footage. Halfway through the video, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Seraphina, is this what you call ‘missing’?” 6 The security footage was crystal clear. After lunch, she had returned to the classroom, picked up her bag with the materials inside, and left. She still had them when she reached the academy gates. The Dean, a man of impressive resources, had even managed to obtain the public surveillance footage from outside the school. Seraphina boarded a hover-train and traveled to a mech parts factory where she worked part-time. At the factory gate, she met a gray-haired man who was wiping tears from his eyes. He was a worker there who had lost a set of materials he’d taken home to assemble. The parts were expensive, and he was terrified of having to pay for them and losing his job. When Seraphina learned the missing set was Part Six, her charitable spirit took over, and she gave him hers. With the truth revealed, Seraphina ducked her head in embarrassment. After a moment, she looked up, forcing a pained smile. “If I miss one assignment, the worst that can happen is a failing grade. But that man has a family to support. If he lost his job, how would they survive?” “I admit I shouldn’t have given away the materials,” she said, tears streaming down her face, “but when I saw him like that, I just couldn’t bear it…” I snorted. “I have no problem with you doing a good deed. But you shouldn’t use things that don’t belong to you to do it. And you shouldn’t have lied and said they were stolen. Without this video, every single student in this class would have been branded a potential thief because of your lie.” “You couldn’t bear to see that man get fired, but you could bear to see us carry the weight of a crime we didn’t commit?” Seraphina sobbed and apologized. “It’s my fault. I have no excuse. I’ll pay for the materials myself, as compensation to the school.” I scoffed. “You should pay for them. They were—” “Sera was just being kind!” Pierce cut me off, his voice sharp. “Is it a crime to do a good deed now? That’s enough, Luna. Stop wasting everyone’s time.” His hypocrisy made me laugh. “The ones wasting everyone’s time are you and Seraphina, aren’t they? One of you lies about being robbed, and the other stops class to play detective for her. Now you’re trying to pin the blame on me? Professor, try not to be such a staggering hypocrite.” My words left him with a face as dark as a thundercloud and her with a face as white as a sheet. Whatever lingering admiration I had for him completely evaporated in that moment. I had planned to stay for the rest of the class, but now I couldn’t stand to be in that room for another second. I gathered my things and walked toward the door. “Class is in session! Where do you think you’re going?” Pierce demanded.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393264”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The boy who promised to marry me the day we graduated from college proposed to someone else at my graduation ceremony: the family changeling, Annabel Lee. And then Adrian Thorne—known in our circle as the Saint of Manhattan’s elite for his quiet, contemplative nature—made a spectacle of declaring his love for me right after her engagement party. For five years of marriage, he was the perfect husband: gentle, attentive, doting on my every whim. Until I overheard a conversation between him and a friend. “Adrian, Annabel is a famous artist now. Are you going to keep up this act with Kaia?” “It doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t have Annabel anyway. Besides, as long as I’m with her, Kaia can’t interfere with Annabel’s happiness.” Then I found his private book of meditations. Every single page was a prayer for Annabel Lee. May Annabel be freed from her obsessions. May she find peace in mind and body. May Annabel achieve all she desires, and may her heart know no sorrow. … Annabel, we were not meant for each other in this life. I only pray that in the next, I can hold your hand. A five-year fantasy, shattered in an instant. I arranged for a new identity and staged a drowning. From now on, for all of eternity, we would never have to see each other again. 1 After confirming the final arrangements for my “death,” I hung up the phone. In two days, I would grant them their wish and disappear forever. A faint scent of sandalwood, the same scent as his prayer beads, drifted in from the doorway. I looked up instinctively. It was Adrian. He wrapped his arms around me, his voice a soft murmur against my hair. “Who was on the phone?” “No one important, just some business with the gallery,” I said, forcing a smile, trying to keep my voice from trembling. He pressed a kiss to the crown of my head. “You’ve been so busy lately. I’ll make you something light for dinner tonight, something easy on your stomach.” For five years, Adrian had been the epitome of a devoted husband. Everyone said that when a man like him, a man seen as above worldly desires, finally falls in love, it’s for an eternity. I used to believe I had found that kind of happiness. But now I understood. This marriage wasn’t my salvation; it was his way of protecting Annabel. Adrian’s hand gently massaged my shoulder. “By the way,” he said, “the Lees are throwing a party tomorrow. Annabel is pregnant, and they’re also celebrating her acceptance into the International Art Exhibition. You don’t have to go. I’ll drop off a gift and come right back to be with you.” “What about the exhibition? I was also going to—” He cut me off, his tone gentle but firm. “You should sit this one out. You’ve been saying you want a child, haven’t you? This is the perfect time to rest and take care of yourself.” I lowered my gaze, hiding the storm of emotions swirling within me. We’d been married for years with no children. I’d thought it was just a matter of timing, but now I suspected he never wanted one with me at all. He wasn’t telling me to rest for my sake; he was clearing the path for Annabel. He leaned in and kissed my forehead, seemingly oblivious to the fact that my heart had just plunged into a bottomless abyss. “Your birthday is the day after tomorrow. I’ve already prepared a surprise for you. Wishing you a year of peace and joy.” A year of peace and joy for Annabel. The name echoed in his blessing. I repeated the words under my breath, the sound suddenly grating. For years, every blessing, every good wish he’d ever offered me, had contained some subtle, hidden nod to her name. Only now did I understand. None of those blessings were ever meant for me. “That sounds wonderful,” I said, looking up and forcing another bright smile. “I’ve planned a little something for my birthday, too. Make sure you clear your schedule to be with me.” He nodded. “Of course. Whatever my Kaia wants.” My Kaia. The hypocrisy was suffocating. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I carefully slid Adrian’s arm off my waist, but in doing so, I knocked the sandalwood prayer beads he always kept with him off the nightstand. As I picked them up, I felt a strange texture on the surface of the beads. Leaning into the sliver of moonlight from the window, I looked closer. Tiny letters were intricately carved into each and every bead. ANNA. In that moment, the last flickering ember of hope in my heart went out. 2 The next morning, I told Adrian, “Let’s go to the Lees’ together.” His expression stiffened for a fraction of a second before smoothing back into his usual calm. “Alright,” he said lightly. “But we’ll leave right after we drop off the gift.” I knew he didn’t want me there. He was afraid I’d upset Annabel. But I just wanted one last look at my family. After all, by the next day, I’d be gone for good. The Lee manor was packed. Guests swarmed around Annabel, celebrating her pregnancy and her spot in the prestigious exhibition. They fawned over her, predicting her entry would surely win the grand prize. They mentioned that the piece even featured an inscription by the mysterious, sought-after artist known only as ‘A.N.N.’, calling it a perfect marriage of painting and prose. When Annabel saw me walk in, her face fell, but she quickly composed herself. Her smile was polite, but her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Well, look who it is. Don’t you have anything better to do, sister?” I ignored her, my eyes fixing on the painting displayed prominently in the center of the room. It was a piece so familiar it felt like a knife twisting in my gut. It was one of my own paintings, a deeply personal work I had finished years ago and kept hidden away in my private collection, never shown to anyone. How was my painting here? How had it become her competition entry? Annabel watched me, a smirk playing on her lips. She leaned in close, her voice a soft, venomous whisper. “You like it, sister?” I shot her a cold look. Just as I was about to speak, she let out a sharp cry. “No—!” Before I could even process what was happening, she threw herself backward, stumbling and clutching her stomach, her face contorted in a mask of pain. The room erupted. “What happened?!” “Annabel’s pregnant! Who pushed her?” “Someone call a doctor!” Through the chaos, one voice cut through the noise, sharp with a panic that was all too real. “Annabel!” Others might not have recognized it, but I did. It was Adrian. The raw, unguarded anguish in his eyes shattered my last illusion. He saw me looking, and his expression instantly reverted to one of calm control. He turned to me, his voice gentle but laced with reproach. “Kaia, regardless of anything else, she’s carrying a child. You shouldn’t have pushed her.” Just then, someone rushed in with news. The painting had not only been accepted but was now a finalist, with a strong chance of winning the gold medal. A wave of undisguised joy washed over his face, a look I hadn’t seen in five long years. “That painting,” I asked in a low voice, “why does it look exactly like mine?” He tensed but quickly feigned ignorance. “Perhaps it’s just a coincidence. Her style has always been similar to yours…” I let out a cold, bitter laugh and said no more. That painting was stored in my private gallery. Only a handful of people had a key. And the inscription… though signed with a pseudonym, the elegant script was identical to the handwriting in the countless meditations Adrian had copied out by hand. It was painfully obvious how the painting got here, and who was behind it. I had painted it as a gift for him, for our fifth anniversary. Now, I realized, even the anniversary itself was a lie. The painting was meaningless. I smiled, my voice so flat it was impossible to read any emotion in it. Adrian seemed to sense something was wrong. “Why don’t we leave now?” he offered, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “We can go somewhere to relax.” I looked up at him, the corners of my lips turning up in a slight, chilling curve. “Let’s take the yacht out. A night cruise. We can watch the sunrise tomorrow.” 3 Once we were in the car, he started talking about my birthday. “I have everything planned. And once things settle down, we can start seriously planning for a baby, okay?” I listened in silence, my gaze fixed on the city lights blurring past the window. The car had barely pulled away from the curb when his phone rang. He answered, his brow furrowing with a familiar, troubled expression. I turned to him, my voice calm. “If you have something to do, you should go.” He hesitated. “Kaia, I—” “It’s fine. I’ll wait for you on the yacht.” I didn’t see the caller ID, but I knew. There was only one person who could make him look like that. After boarding the yacht alone, I pulled out my phone and opened Annabel’s social media. A new photo had just been posted. The caption read: So wonderful to have someone by my side to celebrate my success. He brought me a late-night snack and stayed just to talk. Thank you for always taking care of me. The comments were a flood of praise. “Your husband is the best!” “Now that’s a man who worships his wife!” My eyes, however, were glued to the hand in the photo, the one resting near the takeout container. On the wrist was a string of sandalwood prayer beads. Adrian’s prayer beads.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393280”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Kaspa Astor got a girl pregnant after a night of drunken recklessness. By the time I found out, she was already six months along. He told me, “If we keep the child, we can go back to how things were. We can be happy again.” I just shook my head, my voice unwavering as I asked the question that had been haunting me. “Her and the baby, or me? Choose.” That day, he was silent for a long, long time. He couldn’t give me an answer. But after I disappeared, he was consumed by regret. 1 We had been married for five years. Five years with Kaspa, and I never once imagined it would end like this. I was standing outside the hospital when I saw him, carefully guiding a young, beautiful woman down the steps. I was just far enough away that when he looked up, his face a mask of tender concern, our eyes met. He flinched, his gaze immediately darting away, a portrait of guilt. The pregnant woman beside him looked over at me too, her eyes instantly welling with tears. After settling her safely in the car and whispering a few careful instructions, Kaspa finally walked towards me. His steps were calm, measured, all traces of the panic he’d felt upon being discovered now erased. He reached for my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine, which were cold as ice. “Why are you at the hospital? Are you not feeling well?” he asked, his voice laced with feigned concern as he reached up to touch my forehead. I recoiled from his touch. “Who is she?” He didn’t answer, pulling me into an embrace instead, trying to soothe me with his presence. “She’s no one important. We can talk about this at home, okay? I’ll explain everything.” His soft, gentle words were the final crack in my composure. A tear slid down my cheek. I defiantly tilted my head up, demanding the truth. As long as he told me, I would believe him. Anything. Kaspa sighed, a soft, resigned sound, and gently wiped the tear from the corner of my eye. “The baby is mine.” The words froze the tears on my face. It felt like I’d forgotten how to breathe. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, wrenching myself from his arms and stumbling backwards. For the first time, a flicker of anger crossed his face. He closed the distance between us again, pulling me close, his expression shifting to one of pained concern. “Nora, you can blame me. You can hate me. But you can’t torture yourself like this.” I didn’t understand. How could he do something so monstrous and still stand here, pretending to love me? As we stood locked in our silent standoff, the girl got out of the car. “Get back in the car!” Kaspa snapped, his voice sharp and devoid of any warmth. She looked at him timidly but didn’t move, a new firmness in her eyes. “Ms. Vance,” she said, her voice soft but clear, “It’s not what you think between Mr. Astor and me. The baby… it was an accident.” She gave a bitter smile. “If I had a choice, I would want this baby less than anyone.” My vision blurred. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I knew him. I could feel the coldness in his demeanor thawing at her words. “That’s enough! Stop talking!” I shrieked, the jealousy and resentment boiling over inside me. The girl flinched, staggering as if she was about to fall. In a flash, Kaspa lunged forward and caught her, pulling her securely into his arms. I stared at the scene, frozen. A single, wild thought sparked in my mind. I lunged towards them. Just as my hand was about to connect with her swollen belly, a powerful force shoved me away. I landed hard on the pavement. I looked down at my scraped palm, a desolate, humorless laugh escaping my lips. Kaspa stared at his outstretched hand, the one that had just pushed me, completely stunned. That day, Kaspa Astor left the woman who was six months pregnant with his child and took me home. But I knew. For him and me, there was no future left. 2 Back home, Kaspa gave me his explanation. I sat on our bed, silent and still for a long time. He stood on the balcony of our bedroom and smoked for the entire night, one cigarette after another. I knew what he was doing. It was a performance of self-punishment, a ritual designed to make my heart ache for him. When it came to me, he always knew how to find my weaknesses. As the first light of dawn broke the darkness, Kaspa finally came back inside, walking over to me. “You must be hungry. What do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you.” My voice was a raw whisper when I stopped him. “Kaspa. We need to talk.” He froze, his back to me. He stood there for a long moment before turning around. He knew my character; this was something I couldn’t just let go. I could never, ever forgive this. Even if he was drunk. Even if it was an unintentional moment of contact with a stranger. It didn’t matter. That’s why he had hidden it from me. But neither of us could have predicted that the girl, a complete stranger to him, would get pregnant. And due to a rare medical condition, she couldn’t terminate the pregnancy. Which led us to this. Kaspa left the room. He couldn’t face what he knew I was about to say. I know he loved me. If he didn’t, we wouldn’t have been together for so many years. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have spoiled me to the point where I was a woman who could throw a tantrum or burst into tears at the slightest provocation, always knowing he’d be there to comfort me. For the next week, Kaspa didn’t come home. But he still called the housekeeper every day, asking after every little detail of my life. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, tried to reason with me. “Ma’am, you and Mr. Astor are the most devoted couple I’ve ever seen. Whatever it is, you should just talk it out. He’s… he’s lost so much weight recently.” She’d been with us for years. She had never seen Kaspa and me argue, not even once. Even his mother, who had disapproved of me in the early years, had gradually come to accept me as her daughter-in-law after seeing how happy we were together. My phone rang. It was one of Kaspa’s friends. “Nora, Kaspa’s really drunk. Can you come pick him up?” “Let him rot there,” I snapped, hanging up. But the anger didn’t fade; it just curdled into a tight knot in my chest. The image of Kaspa’s retreating back, his shoulders slumped in defeat, flashed in my mind. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him there alone. After a moment of internal struggle, I grabbed my car keys and walked out the door. 3 The door to the private room was ajar. I stood outside, hidden in the shadows of the hallway. Kaspa was indeed drunk, sprawled gracelessly across the sofa. And standing before him was the pregnant girl. Kaspa’s friend looked embarrassed. “Sarah, I’m sorry. Nora won’t come, and Kaspa refuses to leave, so I had no choice but to call you.” The girl, Sarah, smiled faintly and tried to help Kaspa up by his arm. He shoved her away without warning. A few gasps of surprise seemed to shock Kaspa out of his drunken stupor. He looked at the woman in front of him, his face twisting into a smile that was more painful than a grimace. “Sarah Vance… it’s all because of you. Nora’s leaving me…” he repeated, his voice slurring as he started looking for another drink. No one could stop him. He grabbed a bottle and began chugging it down as if he were trying to drown himself. Suddenly, Sarah snatched the bottle from his hand and smashed it on the floor. The room fell silent. Even Kaspa, who had been in a drunken rage moments before, just stared at her, stunned. “Kaspa Astor, your drunken shouting is going to scare our child,” she said, her voice firm. “Get up. I’m tired. Take me home.” Kaspa Astor, a man who commanded respect and fear throughout the city, had never been ordered around like that by anyone except me. Everyone held their breath, expecting an explosion. But in the tense silence, Kaspa said nothing. He slowly got to his feet, picked up his jacket, and silently followed Sarah out of the room. I shrank back into the corner, watching the two of them walk away together. A laugh escaped my lips. A bitter, broken sound. I followed their taxi to a high-end apartment complex, watching as Kaspa got out and went upstairs with her. A light flicked on in a window high above. I sat in my car all night, watching that window. Kaspa never came out. At seven in the morning, he reappeared, walked to a nearby café, and went back inside the building carrying a bag of breakfast. I watched that painfully familiar back. Then, alone, I quietly drove away. 4 I called Kaspa and told him to come home, but I didn’t mention a divorce. I looked at him, noting how much thinner he’d become in just a week, then quickly averted my eyes. “I didn’t pick you up last night. Where did you stay?” Kaspa’s fingers twitched. After a moment, he said, “I stayed at the office.” I couldn’t quite name the feeling in my chest. There was a dull ache, but more than that, there was disappointment. When had Kaspa Astor learned to lie to me? The man who once promised a lifetime of honesty had changed. I didn’t expose his lie. It didn’t matter anymore. “How far along… is she?” His voice faltered for a second, as if he couldn’t bear to hurt me further. “Almost seven months.” Then, he dropped to one knee before me, burying his face in my lap. His tears soaked through the fabric of my skirt. “Nora, I was wrong. Please… please don’t leave me.” In all the years I’d known him, I had never seen Kaspa cry. Now, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Seeing him like this, my own heart ached. But I knew, in this moment, I couldn’t afford to be weak. “Arrange a meeting for me. With her.” We met at Sarah’s apartment. Kaspa waited for me outside the door. Sarah gently cradled her belly, her eyes filled with a radiant expectation for her child. “That night,” she began, her voice soft, “the room was dark. I was so, so scared. But the next morning, when I saw Mr. Astor lying next to me… for a second, I actually felt… lucky.” She smiled as she spoke, looking up at me with that same gentle, beautiful expression. “Ms. Vance, my baby with Kaspa is almost here. Why don’t you just… let us be happy together?” Without Kaspa present, she was like a completely different person. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. The night I went to find Kaspa at the bar, I’d caught her glancing towards the door, right where I was standing. She knew I was there. She slowly stood up and pushed open a closed door, revealing a warm, perfectly decorated nursery. “Kaspa picked out everything in here himself. He set up the whole room. He’s not without his hopes for this child.” I wanted to maintain my last shred of composure in front of this woman who was flaunting Kaspa’s paternal affection, but her words ignited a firestorm of rage within me. So, he was looking forward to this child. He wasn’t indifferent after all. My strength seemed to drain from my body. I braced myself with one hand on the dining table, knocking over a glass of water. It shattered on the floor with a sharp crack that echoed the fractures splintering through my heart. Kaspa heard the noise and burst in. The first thing he saw was me, swaying on my feet, and Sarah, lying on the floor, crying out in pain.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393296”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel