Category: English

1 My sister was back in the hospital. All because I opened a window for some fresh air. Outside the ward, my mother jabbed a finger at my face, her spittle flying as she screamed, “We never should have taken you back! Your grandmother raised you wrong, sending you here just to torture your sister!” “If anything happens to Rosie, you can forget about living, too!” Deep in the night, the house was silent. A tall man in a black coat phased through the wall and drifted straight toward my sister’s bed. “Rosie Wallace, your time is up. Come with me.” My sister was sound asleep, but I was wide awake. I scrambled up from my makeshift bed on the floor and stood between him and my sister. My voice trembled, but I didn’t move. “Sir, you’ve made a mistake. That’s my older sister. I’m Rosie.” I glanced back at my mother, sleeping in a chair beside the bed, her brow furrowed even in her dreams. Maybe she’d be happier without me. “Sir, I won’t run,” I said. “But… can I have three more days?” “I want to be here for my mother’s birthday.” … The Man in Black paused. The iron chain in his hand scraped together with a sound that set my teeth on edge. “A substitute?” he rasped. “To take another’s place is to forfeit your own soul, never to be reborn.” I didn’t hesitate. I nodded hard. I looked back at Rosie on the hospital bed. A little color had returned to her cheeks. Even in sleep, a faint smile played on her lips. Mom had read her three fairy tales before bed. Meanwhile, I was curled up on the cold floor, not daring to pull even a corner of the thin blanket for myself. “I’m willing, sir.” “As long as my mother doesn’t have to cry, I’ll do anything.” “Three days. Just three. I want to see her through her birthday.” The Man in Black was silent for a long time. So long I thought he was going to refuse, that he would swing his chain and drag Rosie away. Then, he slowly raised his hand. A tiny, nail-sized stick of incense materialized at his fingertips. It glowed with a violet light, the smoke curling not upwards, but around my wrist. It felt cool against my skin. “This is a soul-thread. When it burns out, your three days are up.” “I will come for you then.” And with that, he vanished into the shadows of the corner. I touched my wrist. A thin, violet mark glowed there, burning down with an agonizing slowness. My own personal countdown clock. I should have been terrified. But for some reason, a strange sense of peace settled over me. Grandma used to say that when people die, they become stars, and from there they can watch over the ones they love most. If I become a star, will I finally see Mom smile at me? Even just once. Just as the sky began to lighten, I was jolted awake by a wracking cough. I tried to get up, but my head was heavy, my vision swam with black spots, and my forehead was burning. “What are you coughing for?” My mother stood over me, her coat thrown over her shoulders, her face a mask of irritation. “If you wake Rosie, I swear I’ll rip your mouth off!” I quickly clamped my hands over my mouth, swallowing the rest of the coughs until tears pricked my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She scoffed, her eyes filled with disgust. “Well, get up. Rosie will want her vegetable porridge when she wakes. Go to the cafeteria and get it. Make sure it’s the softest kind.” She turned back to the bed, her movements becoming instantly gentle as she dabbed Rosie’s forehead with a damp cloth. I pushed myself up from the floor, my legs shaking. My knees, sore from kneeling for so long last night, screamed with pain. I didn’t dare say I had a fever, too. The last time I said I had a headache, Mom accused me of faking it to get out of chores. If I said anything now, she’d only get angrier. I felt the small, heavy weight in my pocket. My little piggy bank. It held a year’s worth of coins I’d saved since coming back from Grandma’s. I had been planning to buy a new backpack. The strap on my current one was broken, held together with a safety pin, and the other kids always made fun of me. But that didn’t matter anymore. I wouldn’t need a backpack where I was going. I was going to use the money to buy my mother a birthday cake. On her past birthdays, Rosie always got to cut the cake. The wishes were always for Rosie. I just wanted Mom to make a wish for me. Just once. Even if it was just an afterthought. Clutching my piggy bank, I shuffled out of the room. The hallway was freezing; the wind seemed to cut right through to my bones. But as I looked at the violet mark on my wrist, I couldn’t help but smile. Three days left. I had to make them count. 2 The hospital elevators were always a nightmare to wait for. Worried the porridge would get cold, I took the stairs. Nineteen floors. I had to stop on every landing to catch my breath, my lungs feeling like they were on fire. When I pushed open the door to the room, Dad was already there. He was holding a pink bag with the logo of the newest tablet on it. Rosie was propped up in bed, giggling as she played with it. “Thank you, Daddy! I love you the most!” Dad’s face was full of adoration. He reached out and tweaked her nose. “As long as it makes you happy and helps you get better, it’s worth every penny.” Mom was beside them, applying hand cream. The room was filled with a warm, sweet scent. The scent of a home. I was the only thing that didn’t belong. I stood there awkwardly, clutching the lukewarm porridge. “You’re back?” Dad glanced at me, his smile fading slightly. He pulled a pastry out of a bag at his feet and tossed it to me. “Here, you probably haven’t eaten.” The pastry was hard. It hit me in the chest with a dull thud. I looked down. It was one of those cheap, red bean buns, the kind with a bright yellow “Clearance” sticker on the plastic. Nearly expired. On Rosie’s bedside table sat a delicate tiramisu and a carton of imported milk. Rosie and I were twins, but she had been frail since birth. So, naturally, everything in the family went to her first. Including our parents’ love. “Thanks, Dad,” I whispered, bending down to pick it up. Grandma always said to be grateful for what you have. “Daddy,” Rosie suddenly whined, putting down the tablet. “My mouth tastes bitter. I want some of those candied chestnuts from the shop on the corner.” Outside, the sky was a dark, angry grey, and rain was pouring down in sheets. Dad hesitated. “Rosie, honey, it’s a storm out there. Can we wait until it stops?” Rosie’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “No, I want them now! Cough, cough, cough…” Her coughing sent the whole family into a panic. Mom started patting her back while Dad paced frantically. “Okay, okay! Chestnuts it is! Daddy will go right now!” He started to grab an umbrella, but then his eyes fell on me, standing in the corner. He stopped. “Nina,” he said. “Your sister wants chestnuts. Go and get them for her, would you? Your mother and I need to stay here with Rosie. You’re young, you can run. It won’t be a problem for you.” I froze. I wanted to say I didn’t feel well. I wanted to say it was pouring outside. But the look in his eyes silenced me. “Okay.” I put down the bun I’d just taken a bite of and walked out into the rain. I didn’t have an umbrella. The only one was by the door where Dad had left it, but he hadn’t offered it to me. And I hadn’t dared to take it. The rain hammered down on me. My head spun, and the ground seemed to tilt beneath my feet. But I couldn’t stop. I was afraid the chestnut shop would close, afraid Mom would call me useless. The shop was three blocks from the hospital. The rainwater was over my ankles, and my shoes were filled with muddy water. When I finally bought the chestnuts, the lady at the counter looked at me like I was some kind of strange creature. “Little girl, where are your parents? You don’t even have an umbrella in a storm like this.” I managed a weak smile and said nothing. I clutched the warm paper bag of chestnuts to my chest, using my body to shield it from the rain. I was running on my way back. I slipped in a deep puddle, my knee slamming hard against the sharp edge of the curb. My first instinct was to check the chestnuts. The bag wasn’t torn. They were still warm. I breathed a sigh of relief and limped the rest of the way back. When I got to the room, I was dripping wet. “What took you so long?” Mom hissed, keeping her voice low. “And stop stomping around! Rosie just fell asleep!” My hands, holding out the bag of chestnuts, froze mid-air. Dad was on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, not even glancing at me. “Just put it on the table. You’re dripping everywhere. Go dry off before you get your germs all over Rosie.” No one saw my bleeding knee. No one asked if I was cold. I quietly backed out of the room and curled up on a chair in the hallway, staring at the bag of chestnuts on the table. Rosie wouldn’t eat them when she woke up. She never ate chestnuts once they got cold. The thing I had nearly killed myself to get would most likely end up in the trash. Late that night, I looked at my wrist. The violet mark had already burned down by a third. I whispered into the empty air. “Mister Reaper, are souls real? When people die, do they still exist?” “I just want to see if Mom will cry for me. Just once.” The air was silent. No one answered. 3 On the third day, it was Mom’s birthday. My fever had gone down a little, but my head was still spinning. The violet mark on my wrist was just a tiny sliver now. I went to the nurses’ station and begged for a long time before one of them, Nurse Wallace, agreed to let me use the small kitchen in the breakroom for an hour. “Oh, you poor thing, you look so pale. You should be resting,” she said, reaching out to touch my forehead. I flinched away. I wasn’t used to being touched, even kindly. “Thank you, ma’am. I just want to cook a meal for my mom. It’s her birthday today.” I used the last of my money to buy groceries from the market. Sweet and sour ribs, steamed sea bass, and scrambled eggs with tomatoes—all of Mom’s favorites. Grandma taught me that the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. I knew I could never capture Mom’s heart. But I had to try. The cooking fumes made me cough, and my hands were shaking so badly I nearly sliced my finger while chopping vegetables. But I was more careful than I had ever been. Blanching the ribs, caramelizing the sugar, letting it simmer slowly—I followed every step with meticulous care. When I was done, I packed the food into an insulated container and carried it back to the room. As I walked in, I saw Rosie leaning over the edge of her bed, trying to reach a glass of water on the table. I quickly put the container down. “Don’t move, I’ll get it for you.” I poured a cup of hot water and carefully handed it to her. She was weak from her illness, and her fingers fumbled. She couldn’t get a good grip. “Oops!” The entire cup of scalding water tipped over, splashing all over the back of my foot. Before I could even cry out, Rosie let out a piercing scream. “It’s hot! It’s so hot!” She clutched her hand, which hadn’t been touched by a single drop of water, and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. It was a performance she had perfected since she was a toddler. The door burst open. “What’s wrong?” Dad rushed in, his eyes immediately landing on the crying Rosie and the shattered porcelain on the floor. Without a second thought, he whirled around and shoved me hard. “Your sister is sick! And you’re making her get things for herself?” The force of the push was so strong that I stumbled backward and fell right into the pile of broken shards. A sharp, searing pain shot through my palm. Blood welled up, mixing with the hot water on the floor in a sickening swirl of red. “No, that’s not…” I opened my mouth, trying to explain. Rosie hadn’t held it properly. She had asked me to get it for her. I didn’t mean to burn her. But my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I couldn’t form the words. Grandma always said that explaining was talking back. And nobody loves a child who talks back. I looked at Dad’s furious eyes, at the way he gently cradled Rosie’s uninjured hand, blowing on it softly. Something inside me shattered completely. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, my head bowed low, my tears falling into the puddle of blood. “I wasn’t careful. It was my fault.” If I just admitted I was wrong, the storm would pass. If I just stayed quiet, Mom’s birthday wouldn’t be ruined. As I expected, hearing me apologize cooled his anger slightly. “Just get out of the way. You’re an eyesore.” Ignoring the throbbing pain in my hand, I slowly picked myself up and began cleaning up the broken pieces. Then, I pushed the insulated container forward. “Mom,” I whispered as she walked in, her brow furrowed at the scene. “I made this for you. Happy birthday.” Her expression softened when she saw the table full of food. She didn’t yell at me. During dinner, Rosie chattered away, keeping Mom’s attention. I sat in the corner, nursing a bowl of cold, plain rice. Suddenly, a piece of pork rib landed in my bowl. Mom had given it to me. “Alright, stop looking so miserable,” she said. “It’s a happy day. You should eat, too. These ribs aren’t bad. You’ve got your grandma’s touch.” Tears streamed down my face. It was the first time Mom had ever served me food. The first time she had ever praised me. I put the rib in my mouth. It was so salty, drenched in the taste of my tears. But I chewed it slowly, carefully, not wanting to waste even the bone. It was the most delicious thing I had ever eaten. And it would be the last.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389307”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“The promotion list. My name wasn’t on it.” On the huge screen at the annual company gala, the words were printed in stark black and white: Marketing Supervisor—Lily Duffer. I held my champagne flute, and my hand didn’t so much as tremble. Lily Duffer. Three months with the company. Zero results to her name. My director, Mr. Peterson, walked over and clapped me on the shoulder. “Sarah,” he said, his voice oozing false sympathy, “Lily’s my niece. Young people have that fire, you know? I’m confident she’s up to the task.” I just looked at him. Three consecutive years as Employee of the Year. Twelve major projects led. Over 800 hours of overtime logged annually. None of it mattered more than the word “uncle.” “Of course,” I said, a small, tight smile playing on my lips. “Congratulations to our new supervisor.” Peterson paused, the meaning behind my tone flying completely over his head. But I knew exactly what I meant. My resume was already updated. 1. After the gala, I sat alone at my desk. Half the office lights were already out, leaving the floor steeped in the dim, humming glow of the emergency lamps. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my biggest client, Mr. Harrison. “Sarah, heard your department got a new supervisor?” “Yes,” I typed back. “Is it you?” My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long moment. “No.” Mr. Harrison didn’t reply. I set my phone down and leaned back in my chair, the worn leather groaning under my weight. Five years. I joined this company in December 2019, fresh out of college. Back then, the marketing department was just me, and Mr. Peterson was still just a manager. I’d done it all—tramped through muddy construction sites, spent days in dusty factories, and once stood for three hours outside a client’s office in sub-zero weather. Mr. Harrison was one of the accounts I’d built from scratch, one business card at a time. The first time we met, he wouldn’t even look me in the eye. “Is this all your company has?” he’d sneered. “Sending a little girl to do a man’s job.” I showed up at his office every single day for a week. Finally, he let me in. Our first deal was for a hundred thousand dollars. Now, Mr. Harrison signs contracts worth over a million dollars a year. And today, the promotion went to Lily Duffer. Lily, who’d been here for three months. Lily, Mr. Peterson’s niece. I stood up and walked to the window. My reflection stared back, a woman who looked five years older than her twenty-eight years. I’d poured the best five years of my life into this place. Employee of the Year, three years running. Top performer in the department. A year-end bonus of one thousand dollars. I let out a dry, bitter laugh. One thousand dollars. What could that buy? It could buy the hollow promise of, “Keep up the great work, Sarah. You’ll be next.” Mr. Peterson said that every single year. This year, he finally made good on his promise. For his niece. My phone buzzed again. It was Diane, a veteran on the team who’d been here a couple of years longer than me. “Sarah, you okay?” “I’m fine.” “We all thought it was going to be you.” I didn’t answer. What good did “we all thought” do? All that mattered was that Mr. Peterson thought it should be Lily. I shut down my phone, grabbed my purse, and headed for the elevators. Down the hall, Lily was posing for photos with a few colleagues. She was radiant in a new designer dress, her makeup flawless, her smile blindingly bright. She saw me and waved. “Sarah! Come get a picture with us!” I stopped. “No, thank you.” “Why not?” She skipped over, her voice a cascade of cheerful ignorance. “Sarah, we’re going to be in the trenches together now! You’ll have to help me out, okay?” She sounded so innocent, so genuinely unaware of whose position she had just stolen. Or maybe she knew. And just didn’t care. I looked at her. Twenty-four years old, a recent graduate, three months on the job, earning ninety thousand a year. I’d been here five years, and my salary was seventy-five thousand. She was already making fifteen thousand more than me. “Supervisor Duffer,” I said, my voice even. “If you run into anything you don’t understand, feel free to ask.” Lily blinked, unable to tell if I was being polite or sarcastic. “Okay! Thanks, Sarah, you’re the best!” I turned and stepped into the elevator. Just as the doors slid shut, I saw her whispering to her friends, laughing and gesturing in my direction. I pressed the button for the ground floor. As the elevator descended, I pulled out my phone and opened the LinkedIn app. My profile had been updated yesterday. I didn’t start looking today. I started the third time Mr. Peterson told me, “You’ll be next.” I’m not stupid. I was just waiting for the final verdict. Today, it came in. I lost to an uncle. So I was done playing the game. 2. The next day, Lily officially took charge. She sent a message to the department’s group chat: “Hi everyone! I’m your new supervisor, Lily Duffer! I’m so excited to be working with all of you. Please show me the ropes!” A flood of replies followed: “Welcome, Lily!” “So great to have you leading us!” “Excited to work with you!” I didn’t reply. Diane sent me a private message. “Did you see that?” “I did.” “Makes you want to puke, doesn’t it?” I didn’t answer. At ten a.m., Mr. Peterson called me into his office. “Sarah, have a seat.” I sat. “Lily’s new, and she’s not quite up to speed on our operations yet. I need you to train her.” I stared at him. “Train her?” “Yes. You’re a senior employee, you have the experience. It’s your job to guide the newcomers,” Peterson said with a placid smile. “Young professionals need to have perspective, Sarah. Don’t get caught up in the small stuff.” Perspective. There was that word again. My first year, when I worked until two in the morning, he told me, “Young people need to be able to handle hardship.” My second year, when I landed the company’s biggest client, he told me, “Young people need to stay humble.” My third year, when I won Employee of the Year, he told me, “Young people need to see the bigger picture.” And now, after his niece snatched my promotion, he was telling me, “Young people need to have perspective.” “Mr. Peterson,” I said. “I can train her.” “Ah, I knew you’d understand, Sarah. You’re always such a team player—” “But,” I cut him off. “I’d like to confirm something first. What is Supervisor Duffer’s salary?” Peterson froze. “Well… I’m not at liberty to discuss that.” “Then let me ask another question,” I said, my eyes locked on his. “My salary hasn’t increased in five years. Is that because the company isn’t performing well?” The color drained from his face. “Sarah, what are you trying to say?” “Nothing,” I said, standing up. “I’ll get Supervisor Duffer familiar with our business.” I turned and walked out. From behind me, Peterson’s voice followed, strained and sharp. “Sarah, I don’t appreciate this attitude!” I didn’t look back. When I got to my desk, Lily was already there, perched on the edge of it. “Sarah!” she chirped, leaning in conspiratorially. “My uncle said you’d be training me! That’s so great! I was so nervous about doing this alone.” I booted up my computer. “What do you want to learn?” “How do you handle the client-facing stuff? I’ve never really done sales before.” Never done sales. The head of the marketing department had never done sales. I took a slow, deep breath. “Client relations starts with understanding their needs—” “Wait, Sarah,” Lily interrupted. “Mr. Harrison is your client, right?” “He is.” “He’s so amazing! A million-dollar account!” Her eyes were sparkling. “My uncle said I should spend more time with him, you know, to learn from the best.” I turned my head to look at her. “You want to work with Mr. Harrison?” “Yep! My uncle said that a client that important should be managed directly by the supervisor.” A cold, sharp laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. “Lily, I built that account from nothing. I’ve been managing it for five years.” “Exactly! So I can help take some of the pressure off you!” “Are you sure about that?” “Totally!” she said, brimming with unearned confidence. “I may not have sales experience, but I’m a super fast learner!” I looked at her bright, innocent face. It must be nice. To have done nothing and yet feel entitled to everything. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll set up a meeting with Mr. Harrison for you.” “Really? Sarah, you’re amazing!” I turned back to my screen. My phone vibrated. It was a message from a recruiter. “Ms. Miller, we’ve received your application. Do you have a moment to chat on the phone this week?” I glanced over at Lily. She was taking a selfie to post on Instagram. I replied to the recruiter. “I can call you tomorrow at three p.m.” Perspective, right? My perspective was about finding a better road for myself. 3. At three p.m. the next day, I took an hour of personal time and went outside to take the call. The recruiter was a man with a crisp, professional voice. “Ms. Miller, your resume is very impressive. Three-time Employee of the Year, managing the company’s largest account with an annual value of over a million dollars.” “That’s right.” “We have a few positions we’d like to recommend, all at the Marketing Director level.” Marketing Director. Two steps above my current role. “What industry are you most interested in?” I thought for a moment. “I’m open to any industry. I’m prioritizing compensation and room for growth.” “Understood,” he said, pausing. “There’s one opportunity that might particularly interest you. It’s with a direct competitor of your current company. They’re looking for a new Head of Marketing.” “A competitor?” “Yes. The salary they’re offering is around $150,000, with a performance-based bonus at the end of the year.” One hundred and fifty thousand. More than double what I was making now. “Could you tell me more?” “Of course. Their marketing efforts have been lackluster in the past, but they’re under new ownership and are looking to expand aggressively. Your experience, and your client relationships, are exactly what they need.” Client relationships. I knew what he meant. “I’ll think about it.” “Excellent. Please let me know.” After hanging up, I stood on the sidewalk below my office building and lit a cigarette. I don’t usually smoke. But today, I needed it. My phone buzzed again. A text from Lily. “Sarah, is the meeting with Mr. Harrison set up yet?” I replied: “Yes. Next Wednesday at two p.m.” “Awesome! You’ll come with me, right?” I didn’t answer. That night, I opened my laptop and started organizing my client files. Five years had left me with a portfolio of over thirty clients, five of them major accounts. Mr. Harrison was the biggest. I had chased down every single one of them. Some of them didn’t even acknowledge Mr. Peterson. They dealt only with me. Mr. Harrison was one of them. I remembered a dinner we’d had last year. After a few drinks, he’d said, “Sarah, if you ever leave that company, you give me a call. I’ll follow you.” I’d dismissed it as drunken rambling at the time. Now, I wasn’t so sure. I opened my web browser and carefully reread the job description for the competitor’s position. The company was a similar size to my current one, but it was on an upward trajectory. A salary of $150,000. A year-end bonus with no cap. And most importantly, Head of Marketing. The power to make decisions. No more listening to Mr. Peterson talk about “perspective.” I bookmarked the job posting. Then I opened my contacts and found Mr. Harrison’s number. I composed a text, then deleted it. Not yet. First, I needed the offer in hand. Then I would make my move.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389324”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

He had millions to spend, and he spent them all to launch his “Gilded Girl.” The tabloids sneered, calling her a cheap copy of me—the “Substitutable Ex.” But Liam Miller silenced the city. He stood before the flashes of a hundred cameras, shielding her, and told the world she was the one he’d always waited for. He said I was the counterfeit. So, when his “Gilded Girl” demanded to film her new reality show in my remote, sleepy hometown, Liam didn’t hesitate. He signed the check with a smile. What none of them knew was that I hadn’t just “retired.” I had gone home to die. Chapter 1 The day Liam and his obsession arrived, I was lying in a lawn chair in my backyard, soaking up the pale afternoon sun. My friend Macy burst in, her eyes glued to her phone. “Olivia, you’re trending again.” I felt a ghost of a headache. In the industry, four months is an eternity. I thought my disappearance had finally been bleached from the public’s memory. Liam had turned Mia’s debut into a national event. The hashtags were everywhere. Even Liam, a man who usually treated the press like a plague, was caught on camera smiling at her. He looked genuinely happy. Not forced. Not staged. But wherever Mia went, my name followed like a shadow. The “Billionaire and his Muse” trope never gets old—especially when one is a fallen star who vanished overnight, and the other is the childhood sweetheart he finally reclaimed. I logged into my long-abandoned Instagram. The comments were a bloodbath. “Why are you hiding, girl? Come back and fight for your man!” “She tried to play hard to get for years, but she was just a seat-warmer for the real Queen. Imagine being the backup for a decade. Pathetic.” “I bet her ‘illness’ is just code for being dumped and losing her sponsors.” I let out a soft, dry laugh. I pulled my cardigan sleeve down, hiding my arms—arms that were currently a roadmap of bruises and needle marks from the IVs. On the screen, Liam was shielding Mia from a swarm of paparazzi at JFK. He draped his designer coat over her shoulders, his hand gripping hers with a fierce, protective intensity. “Mr. Miller, can you comment on your relationship with the lady?” a reporter shouted. “Are you still in touch with Olivia? How do you feel about her sudden retirement due to ‘health issues’?” Liam’s voice came through the speakers, cool and detached. “Mia is my partner, and she always has been. She’s starting her career now, and I expect the industry to give her the respect she deserves.” He said so much, yet not a single word was for me. When my name was mentioned, his jaw tightened in a flicker of pure disgust. “But people are calling Mia ‘Olivia 2.0’!” the reporter pressed. “They say she’s just a placeholder for the aesthetic Olivia built. What’s your take?” Liam stopped. He looked directly into the lens, his eyes like ice. “I’ll say this once. If I hear anyone compare Mia to her again, my legal team will be in touch. Mia has never been a substitute.” “The only substitute in this story was Olivia.” Chapter 2 The internet exploded. Half the world thought Liam was a heartless prick; the other half thought I was a home-wrecker who finally got what she deserved. Macy watched me carefully, looking for a breakdown. I actually snickered. “I’m over it, Mace. Trust me. I’m just annoyed they’re making me a supporting character in their twisted little rom-com. It’s bad for my zen.” Liam was a man of action. He bought Mia every role, every billboard, every cover. He even skipped board meetings to sit through her rehearsals. But instead of a blockbuster, Mia chose a “back-to-basics” reality show. And she demanded it be filmed in my hometown—a tiny, fog-heavy coastal village in Maine. It was a petty, nonsensical request. But Liam agreed instantly. He ordered the production to revolve entirely around Mia’s whims. Fans caught on quickly. “Wait, isn’t that Olivia’s hometown? Mia is savage.” “Probably just a coincidence. Stop reaching.” “Coincidence? In a village with one grocery store and no cell service? Mia’s basically hunting her.” I didn’t care. I was a woman with an expiration date. I had nothing left to fear. Three days later, Mia showed up at my gate. She had a camera crew in tow, lenses practically grazing my skin. I wasn’t used to the glare anymore. I instinctively raised my hand to block the sun. My sleeve slipped. The needle marks were visible for a split second. Mia stood behind the cameras, her eyes scanning me with cold triumph. “Is Olivia’s fan club watching?” she whispered, loud enough for the mics. “Come look at your idol. I almost didn’t recognize her. She looks… haunting.” The live-chat scrolled at light speed: “Holy crap, she’s skin and bones. Is she on something?” “Look at her arms. Those aren’t just ‘health issues’ marks.” “Stop being so gullible. Olivia was always a great actress. This is just her latest play for sympathy.” Chapter 3 I remembered the last time I “played” for sympathy. It was our second year. We’d been caught by the tabloids. To save his image, Liam turned our “arrangement” into a public relationship. When Mia found out, she called him crying from London. He spent hours soothing her, then turned that tenderness into a rage directed at me. My condition had flared up that night. I was terrified. I called him, begging him to come home. When he finally showed up, he looked at me—pale, trembling, and sick—with nothing but loathing. “Olivia,” he had said, “you should just go die in a corner somewhere and stop bothering us.” Well, he got his wish. Mia came back the next day. This time, she brought the King himself. Liam looked at me, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. “Are you that desperate for money? You look like a ghost.” I smiled. “Starving artist, Liam. Want to donate to the cause? I’ll pay you back in the next life.” He went to snap something back, but Mia interjected, clinging to his arm. “Liam, honey, you promised!” Liam cleared his throat. “The production team likes your house. They want to use it for the show. Name your price, but you have to move out by tonight.” My smile vanished. “No.” Mia scoffed. “It’s a shack, Olivia. We’re doing you a favor by even looking at it.” I ignored her, staring straight at Liam. “You know what this house means to me. It’s all I have left of my parents.” Mia nudged him. Liam’s eyes hardened. “It’s just a house. Don’t be dramatic. Just give me a number.” My heart did a strange, heavy thud, and then… silence. This was Liam Miller. For Mia, he would burn down the world. “Two hundred million,” I said. Chapter 4 Mia hit the roof. “Two hundred million? You’re insane! We could give you twenty grand and that’s being generous!” I didn’t look at her. I waited for Liam. He watched me, his dark eyes unreadable. Suddenly, he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. Before I could pull away, he shoved my sleeve up. The bruises and the needle tracks were laid bare for the cameras. I pushed him back, my face burning with cold fury. “You’re crossing the line, Liam.” He let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Same old Olivia. Still a master of the fake-out. The makeup artist did a great job on those ‘needle marks.’ Very convincing.” “The money will be wired to you tonight. Be out by six.” Macy appeared from around the corner after they left, her eyes red. “Liv, why did you agree? They’re going to trash this place.” I showed her the bank notification on my phone. “Money talks, Mace. And I need it for the clinic bills.” Liam stayed in town. He stayed in a cottage not far from Mia’s set. One afternoon, I was at the local doctor’s office—Dr. Evans, Macy’s boyfriend—to get my shots. I ran into Liam and Mia at the entrance. Mia was leaning weakly against Liam, looking pale. She saw me and purposefully lunged forward, “accidentally” slamming her shoulder into my bruised arm. I gasped. The pain was white-hot. She didn’t even apologize. She just muttered, “God, stop being such a drama queen.” Liam’s eyes never left Mia. He was too busy worrying about her “exhaustion.” Later that night, Mia came to see me alone. “I want you gone, Olivia. Go somewhere Liam will never find you.” I looked at her, truly puzzled. “You’re the one who brought him here. You’re the one who chose my backyard. Why are you so insecure?” “You’re his childhood sweetheart, Mia. He told the whole world you’re his only love. So what are you afraid of? That he’ll realize I’m not just a ghost?” Her face contorted. “You have twenty-four hours. Otherwise, I’ll make sure your reputation is buried so deep you’ll never see the sun again.” I waited until she vanished into the night. Then, I pulled out my phone and stopped the recording. Mia was a fool. I had intended to let them have their fun and leave. But if she wanted to play dirty with a woman who had nothing to lose? Fine. Let’s play. Chapter 5 I sent the recording to Liam. His reaction was… complicated. He showed up at my door, looking like he’d been through a war. “How much for the recording?” he asked. “You need money. I’ll double what I paid for the house.” He was still protecting her. Typical. “Olivia, why did you leave without saying goodbye four months ago?” he asked suddenly. “I know the ‘illness’ was just a stunt to get my attention…” “It wasn’t a stunt,” I said quietly. “I’m dying, Liam. For real.” He flinched, then sneered. “You’ve said that lie too many times. It’s lost its impact.” I turned my back on him. “Then we have nothing left to say. Get out.” He grabbed my arm again. I suppressed a scream of pain. “Is this another act? To make me feel guilty?” his voice was a whisper of frost. “You haven’t changed at all. Still a liar. Still bitter.” I started laughing. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. What a life. My parents gone, my body failing, and the only man I ever loved was a monster who thought my death was a PR stunt. I felt the world tilt. My vision blurred. I collapsed into the dark.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389340”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The school’s golden boy, Elias Hawthorne, cornered me in the hall and demanded to know why I’d skipped the final problem on the math test. “I was the only person in the entire school who could solve that proof,” he declared, his voice tight with superior certainty. “Just admit you couldn’t do it. Don’t lie.” His high-and-mighty tone was worth five thousand dollars in my bank account. Gavin Miller, my lab partner and personal tormentor, chimed in from behind him. “Yeah, right, Clarke. You’re an eyesore, and you’re delusional if you think you’re smart.” Another five thousand cleared. I had been building a comfortable life for myself, brick by brick, with their relentless contempt and casual cruelty. Relying on their daily scorn, I had accumulated a little over $1.48 million. I continued to play the part they had assigned me: the girl with the perpetually sallow skin, the ill-fitting glasses, the hunched posture, and the lying, bad-grades reputation. The charade was only scheduled to end when a famous pianist, Callum Rhodes, arrived at Northwood High for a competitive dance selection, demanding all female participants attend with zero makeup. Brielle Sutton, the reigning school beauty, snickered. “Rowan, don’t even bother showing up. You’ll scare Mr. Rhodes right back to the East Coast.” Only I knew how catastrophically wrong they were about to be. 1 I was sixteen when I discovered I could monetize malice. I had missed the first week of orientation due to an illness. When I finally returned, the rumors about me being the “ugly girl” had already spread like wildfire through the entire grade. Brielle Sutton and her acolytes were the primary source. “Rowan Clarke? I went to middle school with her,” Brielle had announced to anyone who would listen. “She wore a hat and a mask all the time. She was clearly afraid to show her face.” Her hangers-on had been quick to agree. “Right. Brielle is the school’s star. That troll only got into this high school because she got lucky, and now she’s still clinging to her coat-tails.” The stories evolved quickly. At first, they said I had a crush on the most popular guy in school. Then, for reasons unknown, the narrative shifted to me being obsessed with Brielle. By the end of my first day, without lifting a finger, I had received twenty thousand dollars. I calculated that the sum corresponded to four distinct acts of verbal abuse. Because of the entrenched bias established by Brielle and her friends, no one ever questioned that my appearance was a facade. I had used this strange, dark alchemy to work steadily for nine hundred and sixty-four days. The balance in my bank account was a number most people would never see in their lifetime. Every day I stared at it, and the hateful words became insignificant. To me, they weren’t insults; they were a program processing a transaction. I reorganized my life around this strange career. I woke up at four in the morning, two hours before everyone else. I spent ninety minutes on my studies, and the remaining half-hour on my makeup—the meticulously crafted ‘ugly girl’ look that would trigger the transfers. The money was essential. I had been counting every dollar for food and rent. The occasional insult couldn’t truly harm me. I had a high tolerance for psychological pressure, and I simply didn’t care what they thought. Besides, graduation was only three months away. My grades were locked, and their future lives would have zero intersection with mine. 2 Today, Gavin had brought in a new, hand-drawn “Ugly Girl Ranking,” and my grainy, bad-angle photo was at the top, marked with a heavy red X. “Congratulations, Rowan. You’re number one—again.” He spoke with an exaggerated, stage-whisper tone to the students in the front row. “She’s the resident clown, right? Makes sense she’d take the top spot.” Brielle heard this and laughed so hard her entire body shook. I looked at the photo, my mind elsewhere. The final mock exams before college applications had just wrapped up. The boys in the class, bored and restless, had created a “Female Student Rating Chart.” As it was passed around, I was consistently assigned the lowest score: a two. In their vernacular, a ‘two’ was shorthand for a “Hard Pass” or “Zero.” Gavin snatched the chart from someone and tossed it onto my desk. “Couldn’t be helped, Clarke. Your teeth stick out, your skin is like parchment, and you’re a genuinely bad person. I lost a bet, or I wouldn’t be stuck next to you.” The month before, I had been accused of cheating during the midterms. My test paper and Brielle’s were identical, down to the final punctuation. My seat was in front of hers, and my scores were generally higher. But Brielle had merely scrunched up her nose and squeezed out a few tears from eyes that bore a slight resemblance to the social media influencer ‘Rhodesia.’ The boys, all of whom struggled with math, immediately concluded that I had copied her. In the end, the math teacher had found proof—a complex question about the Greek letter Beta that only I had solved correctly. He used it to establish my innocence. Yet, after the incident, the negative rumors had only intensified. I went from being an unremarkable student to their confirmed “troll,” “zero,” and “freak.” The harassment became physical. Sometimes, I’d be locked in a bathroom stall, only for a bucket of foul water to be poured over my head. Other times, just walking past the advanced science hallway would incite a chorus of boos and fabricated gossip about me liking some oblivious, popular athlete. The boys at this age had a powerful, nasty talent for storytelling, and their words were getting crueler. Any other girl might have broken down. I remained perfectly calm. 3 My score on the first mock exam placed me second in the entire school. The student ahead of me was Elias Hawthorne. He was the school chairman’s son, an accomplished violinist who had already secured early acceptance to a prestigious music conservatory. However, he seemed determined not to follow that path, insisting on taking the general exams. Up until then, he had always been first. I no longer needed to work my part-time jobs, which gave me ample study time, allowing me to finally catch up and alternate with Elias for the top spot. I quickly checked the final results, confirmed my score was well above the requirement for my target university, and prepared to leave. My exact rank meant nothing. But after the bell rang, Elias came looking for me. “Rowan, the school’s golden boy wants to see you.” Brielle’s tone was thick with unconcealed jealousy. I met her gaze and walked out of the classroom, simultaneously receiving a “+$5,000” notification. In the hallway, Elias was leaning against the lockers. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and gold-rimmed glasses sat high on his nose. When he saw me, his brow immediately furrowed. “Clarke, why did you leave the final math problem blank?” I briefly recalled the problem. I’d solved it countless times before and saw no point in wasting the ink. I had a rule: if I’d solved the same complex problem twice, I wouldn’t do it again. I told him plainly: “I was too lazy to write it down.” His frown deepened, and he reached out, gripping my wrist firmly. “I think you’re a dishonest person, but you shouldn’t be a liar about academics,” he said, looking straight into my eyes. The gaze behind the lenses was sharp and intense. “I spent twenty minutes solving that problem. In the entire school, only I could do it.” He finalized his judgment: “You couldn’t solve it. Don’t make excuses.” Gavin had followed me out and immediately backed him up. “He’s right, Rowan. You’re just desperate to save face.” For a moment, I found myself speechless. It was then that Brielle rushed toward us, her face flushed with excitement. “The city’s official Ballet Company is here to scout!” 4 “The notice says it’s a direct, exceptional offer!” Brielle waved a flyer excitedly. “If you’re selected, you get a formal contract and a chance to perform with Callum Rhodes!” Callum Rhodes was Crestwood’s most famous young pianist. He had shot to fame early, performing in Vienna at seven and gaining international recognition by fourteen. After a celebrity television show appearance, he became a household name. By twenty, he was a recognized artist. His striking looks had garnered him a massive, fervent following, and his private life had been severely impacted. He eventually retreated to his hometown, Crestwood, rarely participating in public events. Brielle clutched the flyer, her face crimson. “That’s Callum Rhodes… If I can share a stage with him, even as a background dancer, I’ll do it!” Another girl tried to peek at the flyer, but Gavin slapped her hand away. “Look at yourself. This is an opportunity for Brielle, not you losers. You’ll never be on stage with Callum Rhodes. Keep dreaming.” Brielle lifted her chin, already certain of her success. “You guys can come to me for signed photos after I get in.” Gavin immediately licked his boots. “Brielle, don’t forget me when you’re famous.” It was then that Brielle seemed to finally notice me. “Oh, Rowan, you’re here, too.” She smiled, an air of false sweetness around her. “Do you want to go? The notice says all girls are required to attend. You can sign up with me.” Before I could answer, Gavin cut in. “Her? The dance company is looking for dancers, not… not whatever she is. Don’t embarrass our class, Clarke.” Brielle joined in the laughter. “Right, you need to know your limits. Rowan, maybe don’t go. What if Callum Rhodes is there? Don’t frighten him off.” I ignored them, pulled a new set of practice papers from my bag, and began working. It was Elias who spoke next. “Rowan, do you want to go?” “No.” I didn’t look up. “Why?” “I have to study.” 5 On the day of the dance audition, every girl in the school headed to the athletic field. Except for me. I was alone in an empty classroom, working on my exams. My seat was near the window, and I could see the field clearly. Brielle had applied heavy makeup, especially around her eyes, for which she’d paid a professional stylist three hundred dollars. All the other girls were equally dressed up, each hoping to seize the opportunity. I continued with my test paper. After the principal’s speech, Callum Rhodes made his entrance. He wore a crisp white tuxedo and had a strikingly cold demeanor, exactly as the rumors described. The first step of the selection process was announced: every girl was to be handed a makeup-removing wipe and instructed to remove all cosmetics immediately. Callum explained this was a requirement from the company director. Brielle’s face instantly paled. But she glanced at Callum, grabbed a wipe, and began scrubbing. “Wait a moment,” Callum suddenly said. “Are all the female students present?” The principal hesitated. “They should be.” Gavin, who was lurking nearby, piped up. “Yes, Principal, they’re all here! Brielle showed up bright and early!” Callum frowned. “No. One is missing.” The dean of students confirmed. “The prefect checked all the classrooms. No one was there.” Elias Hawthorne, who had been standing silently near the side, suddenly spoke up. “One person is definitely missing,” he said in an even, measured tone. “Someone who chose not to come.” 6 I finished the last problem and set my pen down. “Mr. Rhodes, she’s right here.” The dean of students entered, followed by the principal. He knocked on the door. “Rowan, still studying? Why would you skip the dance audition—it’s such an important chance?” As he spoke, he tried to casually place a hand on my shoulder. I subtly shifted away. “No need, Sir.” My voice was calm. “I know I won’t be selected, so I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.” The dean’s hand froze mid-air, his expression slightly awkward, much like the last time he’d found me alone and asked if I wanted to “talk.” “Nonsense, child. You never know unless you try.” A cool, detached voice came from behind him. I looked up and saw Callum Rhodes. He looked exactly as I remembered: pale lips, long eyelashes, and an impenetrable air. My heart quickened slightly, and I offered him a small, challenging smile. “No need to trouble yourself.” I paused, using the special, historical term we shared. “Big Brother.” “Hm.” He actually responded. “Since you still acknowledge me as your brother, then come with me.” His tone allowed for no refusal. The principal and teachers present were stunned by our exchange but quickly masked their surprise. The principal’s eyes warmed considerably. “Ms. Clarke, let’s hurry up and get to the field.” I couldn’t refuse. I followed them back to the athletic field. The girls on the field had been waiting a long time and were whispering to one another. I heard Gavin’s voice clearly. “This is pointless. Why drag Rowan Clarke out here? She’ll be even uglier without makeup.” Another boy laughed. “Right, the first round is based on looks. She’s definitely out.” “I thought the golden boy was interested in her, but he must have just wanted to see her humiliate herself.” These comments eased the tension on the field, and Brielle’s strained expression relaxed a bit. The principal led me to the stage. He took the microphone. “There was a small misunderstanding. We missed one student. The selection will now continue.” I was ushered into a corner with a basin of clear water. Next to it was a bottle of industrial-strength makeup remover. Gavin smugly told the people around him, “This is from my uncle’s lab. It’ll strip off anything! Get ready for a show…” Brielle had finished scrubbing her face and was covering it with her hands. Someone yelled at me. “Rowan, hurry up and wash your face!” I took a deep breath and plunged my hands into the water.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389357”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Our wedding day. My fiancé, Harrison Kent, was killed in a catastrophic car crash on his way to pick me up. I became a widow before I could say “I do.” The child I was carrying became the Kent heir, an orphan before birth. The shock shattered me. I descended into a darkness I couldn’t escape, grappling with a severe depression that whispered suicide into my ear countless times. Everyone, including my mother-in-law, pleaded with me to cling to life for the sake of the baby. The funeral was a blur. The only thing that pierced the fog was the arrival of his elder brother, who flew back from his work overseas. He had the exact same eyes, the same sharp jawline as Harry. Watching him, I kept slipping into a daze, confusing the living with the dead. It was during one of these moments of confused grief, standing outside my mother-in-law’s bedroom, that I heard them talking. “You faked your death and ditched your wedding for this woman? And you let Stella believe she was a widow and put her life at risk? The child she’s carrying is yours, Harrison! You staged this entire charade just so you could bring that… that forbidden obsession home?” The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, the soft, low voice of my “brother-in-law” drifted out. “Zara has maybe six months left, tops. The doctors confirmed the diagnosis. This is her only wish. Once those six months are up, Stella will have given birth, and everything will go back to normal. We’ll be a happy family of three, just as planned.” In that instant, the world stopped spinning, and the fog lifted with brutal clarity. My husband was not dead. The man I’d been seeing for the last two weeks, the man with his sympathetic eyes and shared DNA, was Harrison Kent! I fought a violent shudder, gripping the edge of the hallway table. Stumbling back to my room, I fumbled for my phone and sent a text to my own brother, Jake, who worked in high-level private security overseas. “Jake, I need you to arrange an accident. A spectacular one. If he wants to play dead, I’ll give Harrison Kent a taste of his own medicine.” 1 My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. The conversation from the next room continued to bleed into the stillness. “Do you think this is fair to Stella? She’d have followed you to the grave already if it weren’t for that baby. She’s wasting away, Harry. It’s breaking my heart.” Harrison let out a deep, tired sigh. “But Zara only has half a year, Mom. This is her final plea. I can’t deny her this.” He paused, then his voice grew steadier, colder. “As for Stella, we have a lifetime. I will make this up to her. Don’t worry.” My chest seized up. It felt like a massive, icy hand had clamped down on my heart, the pain radiating to my limbs, stealing my breath. I stumbled into the bedroom, my legs giving out, and I crumpled onto the carpet just as Jake called back. “Stella, what’s going on? What happened? Isn’t Harrison… gone?” I wanted to speak, to scream, but only ragged, uncontrollable sobs escaped. Yes, I thought, to the world, Harrison Kent is dead. Even I couldn’t have imagined he would fake his death, and the reason was a lie about a desperate woman. I didn’t have to explain. Jake must have heard the raw grief and rage in my silence. “I hear you,” he said softly after a long moment. “I’m sending a jet. The night after tomorrow. Everything else will be handled.” When the call ended, I remained frozen in place, the phone still pressed to my ear. That was when a gentle knock came at the door. Standing there, holding a glass of warm milk, was my “brother-in-law.” Or, rather, my husband, Harrison Kent. “Stella, what are you doing on the floor? And why are you crying? Are you thinking about Harry again?” In the two weeks he’d been back, playing the role of the sympathetic, grieving brother, Harrison had been relentlessly kind, almost obsessively concerned about me. Countless times, when his gaze was too genuine, too familiar, I’d fall into a daze. My mother-in-law had always blamed it on my profound sorrow. I quickly locked my phone screen and forced a flimsy smile. “Nothing. Just a bit dizzy. My stomach felt off, and I lost my footing.” Harrison relaxed, placing the milk aside. He carefully helped me up. “This little one is already giving you trouble,” he said, his hand resting fleetingly on my stomach. “Wait until he’s born, I’ll have a word with him.” He paused, his expression softening into a practiced look of concern. “Come on, drink your milk and rest. Don’t dwell on things. Harry wouldn’t rest easy if he saw you like this.” The casual way he spoke his own name, the cold calculation of his performance, finally snapped my last thread of composure. I looked him dead in the eye and spoke the accusation I couldn’t hold back. “Are you absolutely certain,” I asked, each word a hammer blow, “that you’re not Harrison?” 2 Harrison froze, then gave a practiced, gentle chuckle, ruffling my hair like a child’s. “Don’t talk nonsense, Stells. Of course, I’m not Harry. Now, drink this and sleep. I’ll take you to the OB appointment tomorrow. Don’t ignore it; any pain is a big deal right now.” He paused, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “This is the only blood Harry left behind in the world. I have to make sure he arrives safely.” I dropped my gaze, unable to stomach the sheer volume of his manufactured concern. “Please leave. I’m exhausted. I just want to rest.” I waited until the door clicked shut. Then, the tears I’d held back all evening finally erupted. I met Harrison at a college meet-and-greet. He was immediately captivated, launching into a relentless, charming pursuit. We fell in love naturally. Two years after graduation, he gave me a spectacular proposal. I can still recall the fireworks reflecting in his eyes—his eyes, even more dazzling than the dazzling sky. During the wedding planning, I discovered I was pregnant. Harrison’s face had been a mask of pure, unadulterated joy. “The timing is perfect, Stella! He’s here to celebrate Mom and Dad getting married! I’m the luckiest man alive.” Even now, I couldn’t grasp why the man who had held me like precious glass for six years would cheat, and worse, why he would fake his own death to escape a wedding he supposedly longed for. The next morning, Harrison tapped lightly on my door. “Stella, it’s time for your check-up. Are you ready?” Just as we were about to leave, Zara’s voice, thick and sultry, echoed from the hallway. “Harry, darling? I’m not feeling well today. Can you please stay with me?” Harrison didn’t even glance at me. He bolted toward Zara. “Did you forget your meds again? You need to lie down. What if you collapse?” He turned back, his face a practiced blend of apology and irritation. “Sorry, Stella. Your sister-in-law isn’t feeling well. I can’t go with you.” He quickly added, “Don’t worry, the driver is waiting, and I’ve already called the doctor. Just head straight over.” I closed my eyes, fighting back the inevitable burn. When I opened them, I caught the fleeting, unmistakable flicker of triumph on Zara’s face. I didn’t say a word. I simply nodded, turned, and walked straight out of the house. The heavy door closed behind me with a sickening thud. I gently rubbed my abdomen, and the tears finally poured down. The driver dropped me off. Following Harrison’s pre-arranged instructions—I knew he’d suspect something if I didn’t—I went through all the necessary examinations. I sat alone on a sterile hospital bench, studying the ultrasound. The black-and-white image showed a small, peanut-sized circle. The doctor confirmed it: my baby. But I couldn’t raise my child in a world built on a foundation of betrayal and lies, a child who would always wonder why his father had chosen a lie over him. I wiped my face with a brutal swipe and called for an appointment at a different hospital. The Kent family had its own private hospital. If I did this there, Harrison would find out immediately. I called the driver, told him I was going shopping, and dismissed him. Hiding behind the main entrance, I waited until the car disappeared. Then I hailed a cab and headed for the second facility. Just before I was due to go into the operating room, my phone buzzed with a video message. It was Zara. The video, nearly thirty minutes long, showed Harrison consumed by a wild, unrestrained passion. I had never seen him like that. For six years, even in bed, Harrison had always been gentle, careful, afraid to hurt me. Now I understood. He wasn’t naturally reserved; the woman who ignited his fire simply wasn’t me. I watched the clip in a kind of self-inflicted torture, desperate to see the side of him I’d never known. Time melted away. “Ms. Stella Rhodes? Are you alright? It’s time for the procedure.” 3 I didn’t realize I was crying until the nurse spoke to me. I was trembling uncontrollably, the phone clutched so tightly my knuckles were white. And I made a horrifying discovery: I still loved Harrison Kent. He wasn’t an object I could discard when broken, or a friend I could cut off when hurt. He was a living, breathing person, the man I had loved for six years. That love had become a reflex, deep in my bones. The six years of companionship, the years when everyone—myself included—thought he adored me, couldn’t be erased in a single afternoon. I couldn’t do it. I truly couldn’t let go. Remembering the strong little heartbeat the doctor had pointed out, I wiped my tears, took a deep breath, and decided to give him, and the child, one last chance. I called Harrison. “Can you come to the hospital? I need to talk to you.” His voice was hoarse, strained, as if he were trying to suppress something. “Stella, I’m tied up right now. Let the driver bring you home, and we can talk later…” “Ugh…” A muffled groan, and the line went dead, replaced by a mechanical beep. We were adults. I didn’t need a medical degree to know exactly what was “tying him up.” I stared at the phone. Then, I lifted my eyes to the waiting nurse. “Never mind. I’m ready now. Let’s do the surgery.” It was dark by the time I got home. The moment I stepped through the door, Harrison rushed to greet me. “The driver said you went shopping. Why are you empty-handed? Didn’t you find anything you liked?” He stopped short, noticing my swollen, bloodshot eyes. “Stella, what happened? Why are your eyes so puffy? Did the appointment make you miss Harry again? It’s okay. The baby is his legacy; he’s a piece of him for you.” He paused, then added, “Oh, and you said you had something to tell me?” I studied his face: devastatingly handsome, just as before. His eyes reflected my image, exactly as they had in the video Zara sent that afternoon. I lowered my gaze, deliberately avoiding his. “It was nothing. I just wanted to ask if there was anything you or… your wife wanted me to bring home.” Harrison’s shoulders visibly slumped with relief. “Go and rest, then. You must be exhausted. I’ll tell the housekeeper to make your favorite tonight.” I nodded and walked straight to my room without another word. I must have been truly spent because I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. In a hazy dream, I saw eighteen-year-old Harrison again. He stood before me, his cheeks flushed, confessing his feelings. “Stella Rhodes, I’m crazy about you. Will you be my girlfriend?” he’d asked. “I promise I’ll be good to you. Forever.” Whether it was the enchanting sunset or the genuine spark in his eyes, I don’t know. But that day, I nodded. I woke up to bright daylight. Since hearing the news of Harrison’s supposed death, this was the most peaceful sleep I’d had. I was still sitting on the bed, dazed, when the door swung open. Zara walked in, a triumphant smirk plastered on her face. “You know why I sent you that video yesterday, don’t you? You really think he’s your dead husband’s brother, and I’m your sympathetic sister-in-law?” 4 I didn’t answer her, only internally mocking my own willful blindness. When I first heard the news of Harrison’s accident, the shock and my pregnancy-induced fragility had made me pass out. When I woke up, my mother-in-law told me the body had already been cremated. They even used my fragile condition as an excuse to prevent me from attending the funeral. Every single step had been a massive red flag. But for six years, Harrison and I had been the couple everyone admired. He was always perfect. It never occurred to me that he would use this to escape a commitment. Then the mysterious older brother from overseas appeared with his international wife. I was perpetually confused, yes, but I never once considered the possibility of a fake death—not until I overheard Harrison and his mother’s conversation. Zara took my silence as confirmation. Her smile widened, predatory and knowing. “A woman always knows another woman’s tricks. When you were so eager to get out of the house for your appointment yesterday, I knew something was wrong. You figured it out.” She leaned closer, her eyes glittering. “You must be dying to know why he cheated, right? Why he faked his death just to be with me? Ha! Do you know what he says about you behind your back?” The venom in her voice was palpable. “He says you’re bland. Predictable. He said that after so long, sleeping with you was like performing a mandatory duty. But with me? It’s different. I can make him forget everything. I can make him absolutely lose control. He calls me his ‘beautiful black pearl,’ says women like me have a deeper, richer kind of fire…” My heart hammered against my ribs. A volcanic rage surged through me, threatening to erupt. I couldn’t stop myself. My hand flew out and delivered a stinging slap across her face. Zara clutched her cheek, a scream of outrage dying on her lips as Harrison’s shout sliced through the air. “Stella! What the hell are you doing?” The triumph in Zara’s eyes instantly melted into theatrical, heartbroken victimhood. “She hit me, Harry! I just came to offer her some comfort because she’s been so sad about you… I mean, her husband. I know she’s grieving, but she can’t just attack me!” Harrison stared at Zara’s red cheek, then rounded on me, his face twisted in fury. “Stella Rhodes, she is your sister-in-law!” I ignored the accusation. I looked him straight in the eyes, my voice dangerously calm. “I ask you again, Harrison. Is she really my sister-in-law?” Harrison flinched, startled by the coldness in my gaze. Before he could answer, Zara grabbed his arm, clinging to him. “Harry, come back to the room with me. I really don’t feel well.” He hesitated, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something else, but ultimately, he allowed Zara to pull him away. I stared at the closed door, numb. My reflection showed a woman who had just realized her entire adult life had been a lie. Then, Jake’s message came through. “The jet has landed.” I took a final, deep breath, got up, and placed the letter I’d already prepared into the nightstand drawer. I wanted Harrison to be the one to find the suicide note after he learned of my death. I wanted him to read my words, to see that my love for him was so profound it drove me to this end. I wanted him to live every day in agonizing guilt. I wanted him to suffer a fate worse than death. I didn’t pack anything. With only my ID and bank card, I walked out of the room, only to run right into Harrison, who was emerging from Zara’s bedroom. Seeing me, he looked conflicted, but his pretense held fast. “I’m sorry about just now, Stella. I shouldn’t have yelled. But you can’t hit your sister-in-law…” I cut him off with a raised hand. “I’m going for a walk. Just a long one. You stay home and take good care of your brother… and your wife.” I put heavy, deliberate emphasis on the titles. Harrison seemed oblivious, or maybe just relieved. “A walk is a good idea. Fresh air will help. Don’t be too late, though. I’ve asked the cook to prepare your favorite dinner.” I nodded. As I brushed past him, my eyes narrowed. Harrison Kent. You loved the theatrical flair of faking your death. Now, accept the grand gesture I’ve prepared for you.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389373”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My childhood nemesis got dumped by my best friend. So, he sent his hot billionaire friend to seduce me as revenge. Later, a chat log between the two heartthrobs of A-University was leaked: [Ethan (The Billionaire Friend): Bro, what if we just go kneel outside their apartment building together?] [Liam (The Nemesis): Genius plan, bro. They’ll definitely soften up.] The student body: “Count us in for the show.” 1 Liam. The campus heartthrob of A-University. He is my childhood friend and mortal enemy. I’ve battled him since we were in diapers. I studied The Art of War just to deal with him. Although he always manages to counter my moves, this time, he’s truly stuck. Because he fell in love with my best friend. Right now, my bestie, Chloe, is frowning at her phone, replying to her suitor’s messages. Among them, a nickname “A-Uni Liam 18” doesn’t look particularly noteworthy. But I was curious: “Isn’t Liam 19?” Chloe gently tucked my hair behind my ear. She patted my cheek: “Babe, who said that’s his age?” Oh. I get it. The next second, a voice message from Liam popped up on Chloe’s phone. “Babe, do you want boba tea? I’ll order it for you.” I wanted to vomit. Liam used to have a tongue so sharp it could cut glass. Now he sounds like he’s drowning in syrup. I hugged Chloe and whined: “Don’t actually fall for him!” Chloe smelled amazing, but her tone was icy. “Relax. I’m dumping him right now. His hardware is decent—handsome, tall, eight-pack abs, rich, good grades… and he’s quite pink down there…” Chloe’s throat bobbed as she spoke. My face scrunched up. I’m really gonna barf. Seeing my expression, Chloe coughed twice and said righteously: “But for you, I definitely won’t be with him.” Good. Chloe replied effortlessly. “Sorry, Liam. I already have a crush.” The “A-Uni Liam 18” at the top of the chat switched to “typing…” repeatedly. A minute later. His voice sounded weak. “Then what does your crush like to drink?” 2 I laughed maniacally. Liam has officially become a simp! The next second, I hugged Chloe and kissed her on the cheek. Snapped a photo. Unblocked Liam from my blacklist. Sent it to him. “Can you stop bothering my wife?” Immediately, Liam video called. I picked up. “Who is Chloe to you?” His tone was icy. “Didn’t I tell you? She’s my wife. By the way, I like Taro Boba with extra pearls.” Liam took two deep breaths. “Serena! Don’t I know if you like men or women?” Before I could speak, Liam started firing shots like a machine gun. “At three, you liked the boy next door, beat him up in two seconds because he said he didn’t like you.” “In elementary school, you liked the class monitor whose AIM username was ‘3’, so you changed yours to ’33 I Love You’.” “In middle school, you fell for a hearing-impaired guy. After you confessed, he was signing so fast he looked like he was casting a spell. You laughed and said he became cheerful after falling for you. You dated him passionately for a month until I learned sign language and told you he was rejecting you in new ways every day.” “High school, you spent $10,000 on in-game purchases for an online boyfriend, ran out of money, and asked me for a loan…” Speaking of that makes me angry! “You didn’t lend it to me!” Liam laughed: “Not only did I not lend it, I reported you to your mom~” My face twisted in rage. “High level tactics! I’m just finding this out now!” “Hehe.” “Fine.” Let’s hurt each other. “Actually, Chloe is my best friend, and I told her to approach you. But now that she’s had her way with your body, she decided to dump you.” I released the ultimate weapon: “Also, she said you were underwhelming~” Liam sounded like he was about to cry. “She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone about those few seconds!!” “……………………” Amidst my hysterical laughter, he hung up. Chloe looked at me, gasping for air. She shrugged helplessly: “He said that himself. But honestly, his performance was actually…” Under my glare, Chloe quickly corrected herself. “Just average.” 3 I pissed Liam off big time today. Back in the dorm, I was ready for a beauty sleep. But my roommate was shaking the bed laughing while scrolling through TikTok. I interrupted helplessly: “What’s so funny?” My roommate showed me her phone, shoulders trembling. “The heartthrob from the university next door, Liam, is heartbroken. Someone filmed him crying and posted it. The likes are exploding.” Back then, Liam and I had similar SAT scores. Our parents got together to discuss colleges. In the city, A-University and B-University were both top tier. The parents were thrilled. They looked at us with benevolent smiles. “How about you both apply to A-Uni? You can look out for each other.” We sat primly on the sofa. Liam, polite and restrained: “Okay, Auntie.” Me, gentle and introverted: “That’s great, Uncle.” Back in his bedroom, we rolled our eyes at each other. After a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Liam applied to A-Uni. I applied to B-Uni. 4 Now. I watched the video. It was obviously filmed secretly. The protagonist was Liam. The man opposite him only showed his back. But you could tell he had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. They were likely at a BBQ stand outside the campus. Empty beer bottles surrounded them. Liam was teary-eyed, nose red, radiating pure heartbreak energy. “I hate her, bro. Seriously, I hate her.” His friend asked nonchalantly: “You done simping?” Liam shook his head: “I’m not talking about my goddess. I’m talking about my nemesis. I grew up with her, and my hatred for her only grows.” His friend sounded interested. “Is it the one you grew up with? What heinous crime did she commit?” Liam listed my crimes. “At one, she knocked over my formula.” “At three, she took the kids to blow up cow dung with firecrackers and splashed me all over!” His friend tsked: “Too messy. Why didn’t you stand further away?” Liam chugged a beer, eyes blazing: “She scammed me out of so much money!!” His friend laughed hard. “And now, she sent someone to scam my feelings and my eight-pack body…” He got sadder as he spoke. His friend refilled his glass. I couldn’t help but look at that man’s hand. Pale skin, distinct knuckles, and most importantly—pink knuckles. I have a hand fetish. But the video ended abruptly. I checked the comments. “What is the heartthrob selling? Drop the link.” “A man’s tears are truly a woman’s aphrodisiac.” “Which sister performed a miracle?” “Can I get the heartthrob’s WeChat?” “To the person above, what use is his WeChat to you?” The comments were wild. Chloe was going crazy too. “Liam crying actually hits different. Sister, I might have to betray you for a second.” I tried to stop her. “I just bought a new whip. Hehe.” “……………………”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389389”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Elijah Vance’s childhood sweetheart miscarried. He assumed it was my doing, that I had used poison. I was in agony, writhing on the floor in excruciating pain. The System declared my mission a failure. At that moment, his voice was ice-cold: “You owe this to Chloe. You won’t die, because I intend to make your life a living hell.” Click. A second later, I died right in front of him. 1. My death was incredibly abrupt. No one saw it coming. Just moments ago, I was drenched in cold sweat, biting my lip until it bled. I clutched the hem of Elijah’s suit jacket, begging: “Elijah, please… Chloe’s miscarriage… I swear I didn’t do it.” Because the poison I supposedly gave them was lethal. But he didn’t believe me. He hated me to his core. Through gritted teeth, he hissed: “Vivian, I told you—Chloe’s accident years ago wasn’t intentional. Why are you still holding a grudge?” On the hospital bed, Chloe sobbed: “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come back. Elijah, let me just die. Let me go be with our baby!” Years ago, Elijah was the black sheep of the Vance family—the illegitimate son, powerless and ignored. When it came time to choose a fiancée, Chloe was the first to run. She publicly sneered: “I’m not marrying him! Who wants to be the wife of a loser?” Elijah was humiliated, the laughingstock of New York’s elite circle. Yet, seven years after I married Elijah, she came back. She wept and threw herself into his arms. “Elijah, I was wrong! My father forced me to say those things. I had no choice. But all these years, I never married anyone because I was waiting for you!” By then, Elijah had become the CEO of Vance Global, the heir apparent. And I had just found out I was two months pregnant. He held my hand, smiling. “Viv, when everyone looked down on me, you were the one who stood by my side. You suffered so much for me in those early years.” “From now on, I, Elijah Vance, will never let anyone hurt you again.” Then Chloe threw herself at him. At first, he was disgusted. He pushed her away, looking at the tear-stained woman with cold eyes. “What makes you think I’d still be waiting for you?” He held my hand tighter, enunciating every word: “I only love Viv now.” So, how did he go soft? 2. Was it because Chloe stood in the rain outside our estate for twenty-four hours, begging for just one glimpse of him? But back then, Elijah simply paused while putting food on my plate and scoffed: “Throw her out. Don’t let her dirty my driveway.” Or was it her relentless persistence, her desperate pleas for him to just look at her once? Even I started to feel a twinge of pity. But he just shielded me from her view, acting like he didn’t care at all. “Get out! If you upset my wife again, I won’t be so forgiving!” Chloe’s face went pale, as if struck by a physical blow. “Elijah… do you really not recognize me anymore?” Everyone in our circle knew the story. When Elijah was a kid, locked in a basement by his abusive stepmother, a girl had accidentally found him and saved his life. That girl was Chloe. She was bratty and entitled, but Elijah called it “spirited.” She bullied others, but Elijah called it “charming.” If she hadn’t smashed the engagement ring and run off years ago, they probably would have been the perfect couple. But that humiliation became a thorn in Elijah’s heart. Hearing her bring up the past, his face darkened. “Get lost!” 3. Chloe really did disappear. For two whole months. At first, I was worried. “I hope nothing happened to her.” She had been stalking Elijah for so long; if something bad happened, people might blame him. But he didn’t care. “Why worry about her, Viv? She has nothing to do with us.” Nothing to do with us? I looked at the red marks on his hand from how tightly he had clenched his fist earlier. I felt a chill in my heart. 4. Elijah didn’t know that I was actually a “Tasker.” At seventeen, suffering from a terminal illness, a System found me. It told me I had the “Phoenix Destiny.” If I successfully “captured” Elijah’s heart and helped him become a wise leader, I would live a long, healthy life. Plus, according to the plot, we were soulmates. I didn’t know about plots. I didn’t know about capturing hearts. I just wanted to live. So, when every other socialite was making excuses to avoid him during his lowest point, I stepped forward. “Fine. I’ll marry him.” That marriage lasted seven years. We weathered storms together, moving from polite strangers to inseparable partners. He climbed the ladder, becoming the CEO. My health improved, and I even got pregnant. To say I didn’t develop feelings over time would be a lie. There were many moments I genuinely thought we would grow old together. But the moment Chloe reappeared, I knew it was over. Because two months after she disappeared, Elijah received a suicide note. If it had been before, he would have burned it without a second thought. He would have said: “My heart only has room for Viv! Especially not for a gold-digger!” But this time… He tore open the envelope, panic in his eyes. Chloe’s handwriting was frantic: Elijah, you don’t want me, and my father is forcing me to marry someone else. Since I can’t be with you, I’d rather die. I’m going to the lake where we first met. Drop. The letter floated to the floor. Elijah ran out, abandoning all dignity. By the time I caught up, he and Chloe were both soaked, embracing by the lake. This time, he didn’t push her away. He held her tightly, terrified she would vanish. The System screamed in my head: “How can the Male Lead have a change of heart?! Host, don’t worry, he’s just momentarily blinded by the supporting character!” I should have felt comforted. I should have held onto hope. But all I felt was cold. 5. After the incident, Elijah came to see me with a heavy expression. That was three days later. He had carried Chloe away and hadn’t come home for three days. I was drinking bitter herbal medicine for the pregnancy. Bowl after bowl. Only the flutter of life in my belly kept me sane. I sat there all night. Finally, Elijah spoke slowly: “Viv, Chloe… she…” “Let her move in,” I said. He froze, then looked surprised and relieved. “Viv, what did you say?” “I said—” I spoke numbly. “Since it’s come to this, let her move into the guest house.” I should have known. Marrying into a powerful family like the Vances… Monogamy was a fairytale. Why did I hold onto hope? Vivian, at least you’re alive. You have a child, right? You just don’t have love anymore. It didn’t seem like such a big deal. But I never expected that in the end, I would lose the child too.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389405”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Two months after I broke up with Lena, she walked into the convenience store where I worked and came straight for the condom aisle with her new boyfriend in tow. She stopped right in front of the display, turning to the guy next to her. Her voice was too loud, too sweet, and clearly meant for my ears. “There are so many kinds, Gideon,” she purred. “Which one is the most comfortable? You should recommend one.” Gideon, a preppy-looking guy whose face was a study in faint pink, just stared at the wall of neon-colored boxes and couldn’t come up with anything. Lena laughed—a light, sharp sound. “My bad, I almost forgot. You never used one with me, so you wouldn’t have the experience, would you?” I kept my head down, scrubbing a spot on the register counter that wasn’t actually dirty. I said nothing. She chuckled again, that knowing, predatory glint in her eyes as she finally looked my way. “How about you, Connor?” she challenged. “Any recommendations?” 1 I stared blankly for a second. The buzzing in my ears was loud, but her words were louder. I picked up a box of a popular brand. “This one has excellent lubrication. It’s particularly gentle for women, and it’s thin—barely any presence at all. Might be worth a try.” Lena’s smile tightened, just a fraction. “You sound very well-versed.” I gave a noncommittal shrug. “It’s fine.” She held the package between her fingers, her tone pointed. “I guess you use this one a lot with your girlfriend, then?” Gideon snorted a laugh next to her. “Look at his uniform, Lena,” he scoffed. “It probably costs less than thirty bucks for his whole outfit.” “That brand of condoms is the most expensive one we carry. His broke girlfriend and he probably can’t afford them. I bet they’re using some cheap, flimsy trash that breaks easily.” Lena’s gaze was fixed on my face, clearly hoping to catch a flicker of shame or distress. I didn’t give her the satisfaction. I just maintained a professional, easy smile. “Ma’am, rest assured, I’ve personally checked the quality of every product in this store,” I said, my voice even. “They are all top-tier. You can purchase with confidence.” Lena’s hand froze mid-air, and the color drained visibly from her face. She let out a dismissive scoff. “Fine. We’ll take the one you recommend. If it’s not any good, I’ll be back to find you.” She bought a single box and walked out, her arm tucked possessively through Gideon’s. After that day, I guess the brand I’d recommended really was that good. For a straight week, she brought Gideon to my register every single day to buy the same kind—the ultra-thin Aura brand. Even Mr. Henderson, the store manager, couldn’t help but make a joke. “I’ve never seen anything like it. A box a day, and those are the five-packs. That customer must have a serious appetite.” “These rich kids sure know how to have a good time. Stamina of an Olympic athlete.” “Oh, by the way, did you see the car she drives? A Rolls-Royce Ghost. There are only a few limited-edition models in the country. That thing is easily north of a million dollars.” “No wonder this area is the infamous Gold Coast of Chicago. So many wealthy people hiding in plain sight.” “Her boyfriend is a lucky guy. Head-to-toe designer clothes. A single accessory on him is probably worth a year of a regular person’s salary. He’s nowhere near as good-looking as you, Connor, but he’s got the golden ticket.” “But you know, that boyfriend of hers looks familiar.” “I think I saw him in your college graduation photo…” I paused, staying silent. Mr. Henderson nudged my arm curiously. “Connor Reid, is he really your college roommate?” “How did they end up together? Come on, tell me the gossip. You’re practically family here.” I didn’t take the bait. I just lowered my head and murmured: “There’s no gossip, Mr. Henderson.” “Can I request a couple of days off for a medical check-up? My stomach has been acting up lately.” Mr. Henderson looked concerned. “Of course, go ahead. Is your girlfriend going with you this time?” I shook my head. “No, I’m going alone.” He sighed. “It’s always just you, isn’t it? Your girlfriend doesn’t seem to care much about your health.” I pursed my lips and remained silent. 2 The whole situation was, to use a cliché, absolutely ridiculous. The boyfriend on Lena’s arm was indeed my college roommate, Calvin Pierce. Back in college, Calvin used my photos to catfish Lena online without my knowledge. Everyone in the dorm knew he was dating a wealthy woman. He never stopped boasting about it. He’d complain to me, “My girlfriend wired me money again. It’s so annoying; I haven’t even spent the last transfer.” “She keeps doing this. People might think I’m some kind of gold digger.” When I ignored him, he’d dramatically cover his mouth and lean closer. “Oh, I forgot you’re applying for financial aid. My girlfriend’s rich and she spoils me. You’re not jealous, are you?” After they started dating online, he replaced all his clothes with designer labels. A casual dinner for him was now an easy three-figure bill. His online girlfriend seemed to have severe insomnia and was incredibly clingy. Calvin would whisper into his phone every night, staying up with her until the early hours. I was a light sleeper, and the sedatives I took barely got me to sleep, only for me to be woken up by his sudden, loud bursts of laughter. Multiple times, I almost told him to be quiet. But I was broke, always up before dawn for my off-campus job, so I felt like I was imposing too, and I couldn’t say much to him. My parents divorced, both remarried, and they stopped supporting me years ago. I paid my own tuition for college. I was chronically sleep-deprived at night. I had to get up early for work in the morning. Add to that the heavy course load. Sometimes, I was so exhausted I genuinely felt suicidal. Even when I was being as quiet as possible. While the other roommates were still deep asleep. Calvin suddenly threw his blanket back and swore at me: “Why do you have to be so extra, waking up before dawn to work? Just to show off how broke you are?” “If you’re that poor, why don’t you just drop out and find a sugar mama to take care of you? Why be such a martyr?” I was late for work and didn’t have time to argue. I worked at a high-end coffee shop downtown. A stunning woman ordered the most expensive coffee, resting her chin on her hand, watching me intently. She wore a sleek, black trench coat. Her eyes were slightly upturned at the corners, her pupils a beautiful amber, and her expression was distant yet casual. She was so eye-catching, more beautiful than any celebrity. The moment she entered, she became the focal point of the entire café. I saw a few people covertly taking pictures of her. I couldn’t help but sneak a few glances myself. When I brought her coffee to the table. She handed me a generous tip, smiling, her voice slow and lazy. “Working so hard, sweetheart?” “Why are you working a shift this early? I wire you so much money, is it not enough? Do you need a little extra?” I was taken aback. “You’ve never sent me money.” She froze, pulled out her phone, and opened her photo gallery to show me. It was filled with countless selfies of me. “Sweetheart, you have a mole on your earlobe. These are your photos, aren’t they?” “Why are you flirting with me online and then playing dumb in person? You call me ‘wife’ every single night.” Her smile deepened. “Is this your first time seeing me in person? Are you shy?” I was stunned. “The photos are definitely mine, but I honestly don’t know who you are.” Now she looked confused, too. Finally, we pieced together that Calvin had been catfishing her with my photos. The woman, mortified at being deceived, introduced herself. She extended her hand to me. “Hi, I’m Lena Vanderbilt. Would you be willing to try dating me?” I hesitated. She leaned in, a tempting whisper. “With me, things would be much easier for you.” In that moment, I admit, I was sold. Because I was simply too damn tired. 3 Once we were together, Lena proved to be a very committed partner. She retrieved all the money Calvin had scammed from her and transferred it to my account. Before I graduated, she showered me with gifts and surprises. After graduation, she gave me an executive position in her company, personally mentoring me on projects. It gave me a resume that many seasoned professionals would envy. During the day, we were boss and subordinate. At night, we were like any regular couple—living together, hugging, kissing. She had incredible stamina; she always left me breathless. In those moments, she loved to nibble the mole on my earlobe, loved to kiss my eyes, and loved to bury her face in my chest, catching her breath when it was all over. Because safe sex wasn’t always perfect, and Lena craved the rush, sometimes we skipped the protection. In the heat of the moment, she would tell me: “Marry me, sweetheart. I only want to marry you.” “Our baby will definitely be as sweet and well-behaved as you.” I held her close, believing every word. I thought we could stay like this forever. Until that day. The day I found out she had a fiancé. I went to the hospital for a routine check-up and, unexpectedly, the results flagged some issues that required further testing. Panicked and urgent, I didn’t waste a second. I grabbed the papers and rushed to Lena’s office. My hand was just reaching for the doorknob. When I heard voices from inside. “So, you haven’t told Connor you have a fiancé?” My world went quiet. I pressed my ear lightly against the door. Then, I heard Lena’s calm, level voice. “I don’t even like the fiancé. Besides, it’s just a business arrangement—a calculated alliance set up by our families.” Her friend asked, “Did you ever consider fighting it?” Lena laughed, a careless, offhand sound. “Why would I? Is it even necessary?” “Besides, isn’t a marriage among equals just the natural order of things? You didn’t seriously think I would end up with a poor kid like Connor, did you? It’s just a bit of fun.” “And I’m not ready to settle down yet.” “My fiancé and I have an agreement: we can see other people before the wedding, as long as no one crosses a major line. Anything goes.” “Connor is obedient. He’s very sweet and pulls at my heartstrings. I don’t mind keeping the act going with him for a bit longer.” Her friend teased, “You used to swap boyfriends every week. This is the first time I’ve seen you this serious. I actually thought you’d changed.” “But I get it. Connor has that pure, innocent face. If he were mine, I’d want to keep him close and spoil him, too.” “But you play the field so much. Aren’t you worried Connor will find out and be heartbroken?” Lena smiled. “Why should I be? If he finds out, I’ll just give him some money and break up with him.” “Poor people like him are easy to manage. They’re shortsighted. A decent severance package, and they won’t make a fuss.” In that moment, a massive ringing started in my head. I nearly lost my footing. I looked down at the check-up paper in my hand. It felt like I’d been slapped hard across the face. My cheeks were burning. The hand I’d placed on the doorknob slowly dropped. That night, I didn’t go home. I hid in a hotel room and cried for a long time. I realized I might have fallen irrevocably in love with her. Otherwise, why would I feel this crushing pain? I loved her, but I hated her just as much. I thought, Why? Why did she get to hold all the power in this relationship? Why could she pick me up and put me down so easily? Why was she allowed to play, and I was not? Instead of waiting for Lena to toss me aside, I decided to be the one to end it. I would dump her. So, I deliberately set up a scene to pretend I was cheating. When Lena found me at the hotel. I was in a bathrobe, kissing a woman I’d hired. Scattered on the floor were unbuttoned shirt studs and a ripped tie. The bedsheets were strategically messed up with marks I’d faked. Lena stood in the doorway, the air pressure around her dangerously low. She wore a terrifying, extremely dangerous smile. “Explain.” The woman I was kissing spoke up first. “Ms. Vanderbilt, we’re the real soulmates here. You should just let him go.” “I swear, I’ll treat him well.” Lena didn’t even lift an eyelid. The brief, cold glance she gave the woman was full of undisguised contempt and disgust. “Get lost. Trash like you doesn’t get a voice here.” The woman’s face instantly flushed crimson. She opened her mouth but couldn’t dare utter a single word in protest. I waited a moment, then spoke slowly. “It’s exactly what you see. I don’t love you anymore.” “I’ve already submitted my resignation to the company. I kept all the money you gave me in the bank, untouched.” “Lena, we’re breaking up.” That night, Lena stood on the balcony, drinking an entire bottle of scotch. As she left, she spoke one last, cold sentence: “As you wish.” Right after that, I blocked and deleted every single one of Lena’s contacts and accounts. 4 A week later. Lena came into the convenience store alone this time. I assumed she was here for condoms again, so I habitually reached for the brand she usually bought. She didn’t take them. She just looked at me. “Connor, can we talk?” At a nearby five-star restaurant. Lena ordered fresh quality seafood, the food I used to love. I looked at the menu and said, “I don’t eat seafood anymore.” Lena smiled faintly. “You used to be addicted to spice. Why the change? Is it to accommodate your new girlfriend?” I lowered my eyes, my tone flat. “My stomach hasn’t been well lately.” She conceded without judgment and ordered milder dishes instead. Once the food arrived. Lena asked me, “Do you regret breaking up with me?” “You never had to live this hard before you left. Does she treat you well?” I said nothing. She smiled. “Okay, I get it.” “After all, I was your first serious relationship. You were still in school when you got with me. Not much experience. It’s normal for you to be a little reckless and ungrateful.” “So, another woman says a few sweet things, and you’re gone.” “But life isn’t a fairy tale.” “You see what you look like now that you’ve left me.” “Six AM to ten PM shifts, a two-hour commute, crowded subway trains, standing all day, and all that tedious, grinding work.” “Your roommate, Calvin, is now my arm candy, and he’s living the good life. I give him a quarter-million dollar monthly allowance, and I gave you even more than that.” “That life should have been yours.” “This is your last chance, Connor. Do you want to get back together?” I stayed silent for a moment. Finally, I lifted my gaze. “Ms. Vanderbilt, I’m not like you. I take relationships seriously.” Lena sneered. “Oh, really? You like her that much?” Just then, I accidentally bit into a piece of fatty meat. The burst of oily richness immediately made me nauseous. I clamped a hand over my mouth, a wave of revulsion washing over me. Seeing my reaction, Lena leisurely poured me a glass of water. It was half a joke when she said, “Why such a strong reaction? Is your stomach problem flaring up again?” My grip on the water glass tightened instinctively. She leaned closer. “Now that I look closely, your color doesn’t seem quite right.” “Connor, is there something you’re hiding from me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389421”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Dinner was in full swing when my husband and my supposed best friend suddenly vanished. After a quick search, a flash of text appeared in my mind, like a live stream’s floating commentary: [OMG, thank goodness the Male Lead managed to grab the Female Lead and sprint from the restroom into the walk-in cooler, otherwise the Sidekick would have seen them!] [But they aren’t wearing clothes! They can’t hide in there for long, they’ll freeze to death!] I froze. So, my husband, Owen, was in the walk-in cooler, holding my best friend, Zara. And I was the “Sidekick.” I walked toward the cooler door, but the owner, Vivian, blocked my path. “Excuse me, ma’am. That’s for storing our ingredients. Guests aren’t allowed back here.” The Chat panicked. [Woah, good thing the Female Lead’s friend stopped the Sidekick, or they would have been found!] [It’s fine, it’s fine. As soon as the Sidekick leaves, they can come out!] The phrase “freeze to death” hit me like a physical blow. I changed my strategy. “I want to move to a table right here.” Vivian and The Chat were stunned. “What? Sit right here?” [WTF, Sidekick, what are you doing? How are our Male and Female Leads supposed to get out if you’re eating in the main hall?] 1 I pulled my gaze from the phantom text and forced back a cold smile. Are they all that surprised? Then I needed to eat well. Slowly. I owed that much to the pair currently holding each other close in the freezer. Vivian, the owner, I knew because I’d been here a few times. But I never suspected she was best friends with Zara. Now, she was acting as a shield for Zara and Owen. My face felt tight as I addressed her. “Why not, Vivian? The private dining room got a little stuffy. I want to move out here to the main dining room, and I’ll order another seafood platter and a bunch of other dishes. I couldn’t really eat much in there. Now I can feast. Besides the platter, I need two cases of beer. A dozen plates of Buffalo wings, 100 lamb skewers, 20 chicken sliders, 50 baked clams…” Vivian was briefly speechless. Hearing me order so much food, she automatically grabbed her order pad. While she was distracted, I quickly dialed my friends in the private room. “Everyone, come out. We’re moving to the big table. I just ordered a mountain of food and booze!” “Grab my purse and jacket on your way out.” I heard them cheer on the other end of the line. “Seriously? All that food? This is going to be an epic night!” “I know! I thought we were winding down, but Sienna just went out and added an entire feast. We have to eat it now!” “Let’s go, let’s go, hurry up!” When they emerged and sat down, I laughed. “Eat up! Nobody leaves until we’re stuffed!” 2 Vivian was dumbfounded. Clutching the menu, she didn’t know whether to kick us out or tell the kitchen to start cooking. She glanced anxiously at the cooler, then hesitated for a few seconds before trying to send us away. “I-I just realized we’re out of stock for all those items. We can’t fulfill your order. You should probably just leave for the night.” The Chat was quick to praise her. [The Female Lead’s friend is amazing! She’s not even worried about the money, just about saving the Female Lead!] [That order was easily over a thousand dollars. That’s true friendship!] [This Sidekick is pure evil. She’s trying to freeze our Male and Female Leads to death! Humph. Not happening!] [If the Sidekick and her people don’t leave, they really are in danger. Look, that cooler is 23 degrees Fahrenheit. They have no clothes. They won’t last an hour.] [Waaah, what do we do? I wish I could just rush in there and drag them out!] How Vivian must have wished she could, too. She desperately wanted us to leave. But we had already dragged out all the plates from the private room that we hadn’t finished. My friend Gabe immediately challenged Vivian. “Hold on, Vivian. That’s not cool. We haven’t even finished our first round, and you’re trying to kick us out? Plus, we’re adding to the bill. You’re a business owner, you can’t just turn away paying customers.” A flash of panic crossed Vivian’s face. “Don’t misunderstand, I’m not trying to rush you. We just genuinely ran out of those specific ingredients.” I stood up and pointed past her to the glass-fronted cooler, where rows of meat, seafood, and vegetables were neatly stacked, looking perfectly fresh. “Vivian, the dishes we ordered are clearly right there in your display case. How can you be out? Just get the kitchen to make them. I’ve called more people to join us, and they’ll probably order more.” Vivian was completely stiff. “What? More people are coming?” I held up my phone and smiled. “Yes, I called my mother-in-law and her two best friends. They absolutely love your food, and they’re all major gossip queens. Treat them well, and they’ll give your restaurant great publicity.” 3 Vivian turned to stone. So did The Chat: [HOLY CRAP, Sidekick, what are you doing? Why did you call the Male Lead’s mother? This is insane!] [Even though the Male Lead’s mother actually kind of likes the Female Lead, if she sees her cheating with her son and is humiliated in front of her friends, how can she ever agree to them being together?] [Exactly! She even told the Male Lead before that the Female Lead was ten times better than the Sidekick, but if she’s caught now, all that good image is ruined!] [Forget that! If the Sidekick and the others don’t leave, the Leads are going to freeze to death! Can’t you see them shivering? There’s ice forming on their faces!] [Oh my God, they look so pathetic. What do we do? I’m going crazy!] [Don’t worry. The Female Lead’s friend will fix this.] Is that so? I thought, a bitter smile catching in my throat. Can Vivian really fix this? I intended to wait and see exactly how she would. Vivian finally snapped out of it. Since the “running out of food” excuse was useless, she had to try another. “The kitchen just told me the propane ran out. We can’t light the stoves. If you still want to eat, you’ll have to go somewhere else.” Anger flared in me. I strode toward the kitchen entrance and saw the chefs still working, the line buzzing with activity. Just then, the restaurant’s audio system chimed. “Your online order has been automatically accepted.” I scoffed. “Vivian, you are acting so strange tonight. Why are you so desperately trying to drive us out?” “Do you have some kind of shameful secret you’re trying to hide? Your kitchen is clearly still busy, and I can see the backup gas tanks right there. This is a decent-sized restaurant; you wouldn’t run out of fuel. If you don’t give us a straight answer right now, we are not leaving. I’ve already recorded a video, and I’m ready to post it online and let everyone judge!” 4 Vivian looked like she was about to pass out. The Chat filled with angry emojis. [Damn it, I want to go in there and slap that Sidekick!] [Why is she picking a fight with the Female Lead’s friend? The Female Lead is already too cold to talk. If the Male Lead wasn’t holding her so tightly, she would have passed out already.] [It’s okay. If they survive this, this life-and-death ordeal will definitely make their relationship stronger and ensure their happily-ever-after.] Happily-ever-after? No. I absolutely wouldn’t allow that. My friends also started shouting about complaining and exposing Vivian’s behavior. Having no other choice, Vivian finally grabbed the menu and retreated to the kitchen. Watching her reluctant, defeated retreat gave me a surge of grim satisfaction. But it was immediately chased by pain and fury. I had been nothing but generous to Zara. When she was out of work, I got her a job at Owen’s company. When she needed a place to stay, I had Owen rent her a small apartment as a “company dorm.” I never left her out when we went out for fun. And this was her repayment? But it takes two. Owen was just as bad. He didn’t just sleep with someone in his own backyard; he did it right under the noses of all our friends. If they wanted a thrill, I’d give them a real thrill. I’ll keep them trapped inside that cooler tonight and see if they have the luck to make it out alive. “Sienna, you are unbelievable! You’re out here spending my son’s money on a massive dinner again, dragging all these people with you!” A furious voice suddenly broke my thoughts. I turned around to see my mother-in-law, Dolores, with her two friends. All three had overly coiffed blonde hair and caked-on, pale makeup, clearly believing they looked like socialites. In reality, with Owen’s net worth barely scraping into the low millions, the Owens were just ordinary in the upper circles—barely worth a second glance. Yet, Dolores always treated me like I wasn’t good enough because my family was only solidly middle-class. She constantly told me I spent Owen’s money, and any other woman would be a better wife. She hadn’t wanted to come until I mentioned the massive order. Then she rushed over, eager to “eat back” her son’s money. Ignoring her fury, I smiled warmly. “Mom, Brenda and Patrice are here, too? Come sit down! It’s not just me and my friends, Owen was here, but he stepped out for a minute.” 5 Dolores and the two Aunts sat down, their faces tight. My friends politely shifted to make room. Gabe, always the charmer, quickly poured them wine and grinned. “Auntie, Owen was with us! Don’t pick on Sienna. We’re all treating each other. No one’s taking advantage of anyone here.” Dolores’s expression softened slightly. She glanced at the table, and her face soured again. “Why are there only leftovers? Did you call us here to eat scraps?” Brenda sneered. “Are we that hungry, coming to eat leftovers?” I quickly explained. “I’ve already ordered a ton of new food, it’s coming right up. If there’s anything else you want, feel free to order it. My treat tonight—I’m paying for everything myself!” Patrice immediately put down her purse and walked straight to the display case to order. Dolores and Brenda exchanged a look and quickly followed suit. Vivian, clutching her order pad, looked completely defeated, jotting down every request, practically in tears. The Chat was also on the verge of crying. [Oh no, the Female Lead’s friend has completely run out of options… crying.jpg.] [The Female Lead can barely breathe now. The Male Lead is trying to give her mouth-to-mouth and hugging her tightly, but he’s shivering uncontrollably. His eyelashes are covered in ice. They won’t last much longer.] [If it were me, I’d get out immediately, embarrassment be damned.] [But he explicitly told the friend not to open the door unless they hammered on it. She hasn’t gotten the signal, so she won’t open it.] [The problem is they can’t even stand up now. How are they going to hammer on the door?] [Seriously, they should have just hidden in the kitchen instead of the freezer! Now they’re stuck!] [Are you dumb? The kitchen is packed with people! They didn’t have any clothes on! Why would they go there? I’d say the bathroom was better than the freezer.] [To the person above: that bathroom is gender-neutral. The Sidekick already checked the door. Even if she hadn’t, someone else would have. They’d be caught either way.] [Wait, speaking of that—their clothes are still in the bathroom!] Me: “???” Holy hell, that is juicy. I need to find an excuse to check the restroom. 6 Soon, the extra dishes we ordered began to arrive. Everyone ate heartily. Half an hour flew by with us all eating and drinking. Dolores and her friends were so focused on the food that only now did she suddenly remember her son. She looked at me. “We’ve been eating for half an hour. Where is my son?” I bit into a lamb skewer and shrugged. “I have no idea. He didn’t say.” The others looked up, confused. “We don’t know either. He just walked out without saying anything.” “Wait, where is Zara? She’s gone too!” I sighed dramatically. They were such foodies; only now did they notice Zara was also missing. I feigned confusion. “Oh, yeah, she’s gone. Maybe they went back to the office together?” Dolores picked up her phone and called Owen. It rang and rang, but no one answered. She exhaled in relief. “He’s probably busy and can’t answer. As long as the phone isn’t turned off, it means he’s fine.” Yes, as long as it wasn’t turned off, it meant he hadn’t been in a car accident or something similar. But she didn’t know that some accidents were far more fatal. Like right now, her beloved son was naked, wrapped around the girl she liked best, and freezing to death. Suddenly, she looked at me with deep dissatisfaction. “Sienna, what is wrong with you? Your own husband is missing, and you’re just sitting here eating and drinking! If it were Zara, she wouldn’t be like this. If Owen hadn’t eaten, she would be worried sick and rush home to make him soup. When he’s sick, Zara buys his medicine. She stays up late when he works overtime. And you? You just care about going out and having fun! I’ve never seen you bring him food or show concern! Just like now, you don’t even know where my son is!” “How wonderful it would be if Zara were my daughter-in-law. She’s competent at work, she’s good to my son, and she helps with everything inside and outside the home.” 7 I was stunned, my mind blank. She was tearing me down and praising Zara in front of all these people, without a shred of concern for my dignity. My face went cold. “Mom, is that really what you think? I have brought Owen food. You have seen me go with him to the doctor. Where have I been only caring about fun?” “I have been running myself ragged out there, landing one big account after another for his company. I was so busy, in fact, that I didn’t even realize when my best friend crawled into my husband’s bed.” “I really should thank you, Mom. You’re telling me things I didn’t even know. I didn’t know they had progressed this far. You’ve already given them your blessing.” Dolores saw everyone at the table staring at her, their expressions openly excited for the gossip. Her face went pale as she instantly realized what she had said. She scrambled to cover it up. “No! I didn’t mean that! What I meant was, you just aren’t as good as Zara! There’s nothing sordid going on between them! She’s always been respectful to me. She would never dare ruin my son’s marriage and make him a laughingstock!” The more she explained, the worse she made it. Everyone was desperately trying to suppress their laughter. I just looked at her, my expression icy. I was intentionally fighting with her to stall for time. No matter how much she tried to smear me, I would keep the argument going. The Chat was furious. [What in God’s name is this old woman thinking? Who would talk about their daughter-in-law like this in front of strangers? I actually feel kind of sorry for the Sidekick.] [Seriously! She’s practically admitting her son is too close to another woman while married. Is she out of her mind?] [She’s throwing the Female Lead right under the bus! Unbelievable.] [The old woman is still arguing! The Female Lead isn’t moving much anymore. The Male Lead’s consciousness is fading. If they don’t get out soon, they will really die!] Hmm? They’re really close to dying? That means they haven’t died yet. With that thought, I launched another volley at Dolores. “Mom, your explanations are useless now. Even if Zara is my friend, and I brought her into the company, if she did something like this with Owen, that’s crossing a line! Stop defending them. If you like her so much as a daughter-in-law, when they come back, I’ll tell Owen I want a divorce and let her have your son!” It was then that my friend Rory spoke up hesitantly. “Uh, you guys said they both disappeared at the same time. Do you think they went to…?” 8 The moment she stopped speaking, everyone else immediately understood. “They went to a hotel room?” “No way, are they that brazen?” “We’re all right here eating! They snuck out to get a room? That’s so unfair to Sienna!” “It is! That’s disgusting. I’ve never heard of anything like that.” “I read a story once—a guy went out to get cigarettes while out to dinner with his girlfriend and managed to hook up with someone in the parking lot. There are no new stories under the sun, folks.” Dolores and the Aunts heard all the murmuring. But only Dolores was angry; Brenda and Patrice were strangely excited. Dolores often bragged to them about how excellent and capable Owen was. If he was humiliated, it would be a treat for them! Brenda pretended to be upset and scolded them. “Stop talking nonsense. We watched Owen grow up. He is a decent, moral man. He wouldn’t be sleeping around.” Patrice, her eyes wide, chimed in, “Exactly! Just wait until they get back. You’ll see, they won’t come back together!” The whispering died out. The air went dead silent. Rory took the opportunity to stand up and break the tension. “I need to use the restroom.” The Chat went ballistic. [AAAHH, HOLY COW, someone went to the restroom! It’s over! Their clothes are still in there!] [I knew it! They are going to be discovered now!] [Where is the restaurant owner? Why didn’t she hide the clothes?] [She couldn’t hide anything! Can’t you see she’s running around like a headless chicken? She completely forgot the Male and Female Leads are still in the freezer!] I curled my lips into a cold smile, watching Rory disappear through the restroom door. There were three stalls inside. Would she see them? I started a silent countdown. A few seconds later, a piercing scream echoed from the restroom!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389439”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I paid $4.90 for a carpool ride, but a Rolls Royce showed up. The girl next to me tilted her head and smiled: “What a coincidence, you hailed my boyfriend’s car~” I was about to respond when my attention was caught by the handsome guy who appeared. He was in a suit, cold and noble, gently and carefully helping the girl into the car. The assistant behind him called out to me timidly: “Mrs. Thorne… “Where are you going?” I waved my hand, swallowing the words “going to the hospital for a prenatal checkup.” When I spoke again, I heard my own slightly trembling voice: “To the airport.” Chapter 1 My voice was soft. So soft that it seemed no one heard it. The girl in the passenger seat was happily holding Ethan Thorne’s hand: “See~ I told you not to come pick me up specially. “Only a fool wouldn’t earn money, $4.90 is enough to buy a cup of milk tea. “Besides—” She turned around abruptly, grinning: “Sister, you must have never sat in such a luxury car, right? “Just treat it as an opportunity for ordinary people to get in touch with high society.” I smiled. Looking at Ethan through the rearview mirror. His eyebrows were handsome as usual, expression calm, without the slightest change. A faint “Mmh”. Slender fingers were scrolling on the phone screen. Like dealing with urgent work. While my screen was flashing non-stop: [Chloe is very innocent, don’t scare her.] [Don’t worry, this won’t shake your status as Mrs. Thorne. So, I don’t want the Thorne family to know about Chloe’s existence either.] [Your parents’ company still relies on the Thorne family, you won’t do anything unwise, right?] I turned off the screen. Put the phone face down. Looked up, meeting Ethan’s eyes in the rearview mirror. His face was unconcerned, well-defined hands tapping the steering wheel rhythmically. His tone was cold as ice: “Lady in the back, fasten your seatbelt.” I didn’t speak. Staring at the pink sticker in front of the passenger seat: [Little Fairy Chloe’s Exclusive Seat]. Letting the sourness spread in my heart until it completely drowned me. A few minutes later. I calmed down. Bought a plane ticket to Fiji. Chapter 2 Along the way, Chloe chattered non-stop about interesting things at the company. When she got excited, she would pat Ethan’s arm excitedly. Ethan, from beginning to end, showed no impatience, instead slightly curling his lips in a light smile. Like an outsider, I watched all this. Couldn’t help but recall. Ethan had always been business-like with me. Even discussing wedding plans. We weren’t like husband and wife, more like Party A and Party B. Except— In bed. He was like a fierce wolf, rampant, red-eyed, demanding everything from me. “Sister, do you want some chips?” Chloe’s soft voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked at this fair and youthful face, the word “mistress” didn’t escape my mouth after all: “No.” She “oh”ed, “Okay.” Then handed the chips to Ethan. Suddenly remembering Ethan was driving. Chloe simply bit the chip in her mouth and leaned her face over. Ethan subconsciously glanced at the rearview mirror, his hands gripping the steering wheel turning white. But in the end, he didn’t resist Chloe’s coquetry. Adam’s apple rolled. Took that half chip with his mouth. I turned my head away, looking out the window. Heard Chloe say embarrassedly: “Hehe, sister don’t laugh at us, we are still in the honeymoon phase. “Actually, I didn’t want to date before twenty-five at all, but he is just too good to me. “Afraid I’d be wronged at the company, always secretly backing me up, and on call anytime, I feel embarrassed. Today too, I just had period cramps, he wasn’t at ease, insisted on dropping work to accompany me to the hospital…” “That’s great.” I couldn’t help interrupting, voice cold: “Wish you a hundred years of happiness together.” I held back the sourness and sadness in my heart, picked up my phone and bag, voice slightly trembling: “I’ll get off here.” Chloe was a bit surprised: “Aren’t you going to the same destination as me, shouldn’t you go to the hospital?” I smiled: “Something came up last minute, I have a date, my boyfriend said he’s coming to pick me up here.” Chapter 3 What I didn’t expect was. Ethan chased me out. He looked down from above, asking in a suppressed voice: “What do you mean?” I was confused: “What?” “What do you mean by a hundred years of happiness?” Ethan looked around, grabbed my wrist, displeasure unconcealed on his face: “You know very well, my parents only recognize you as their daughter-in-law, so you deliberately say this to disgust me?” I couldn’t struggle free. He got angrier: “Maya Jiang, is the boyfriend you mentioned lying to me? “If this wild man really exists— “Then you know my methods.” I didn’t understand: “What does it have to do with you? First meeting, you said we were just for show, not interfering with each other privately…” “That’s different.” Ethan wandered on the edge of losing composure, at this moment he was like a dormant beast: “Your Jiang family is in danger, so in this transaction, you should absolutely obey me. “Or are you lonely in an empty room, unbearable, need me to help you relieve?” Saying so. He put his hand on my waist, suddenly leaned down— “What are you doing!” Chloe chased over at some unknown time, shouting with red eyes: “You guys… you guys…” She covered her mouth. Looking at Ethan’s hand on my waist in disbelief. Next second. Chloe rushed up. Aiming at my face, a slap. Chapter 4 I didn’t expect it. She looked thin and petite, but her strength was immense. I barely stood firm. Subconsciously covered my lower abdomen again. “You really have no shame!” Chloe cried while pointing at me: “No wonder I heard you talking weirdly just now, turns out you have ulterior motives for my boyfriend!” Her voice trembled with anger. Blocking in front of Ethan, “Just because you’re pretty, you can seduce other people’s boyfriends casually! “Are you a bus? How cheap!” I originally thought. Chloe kept in the dark was also a victim. But now, she clearly saw Ethan taking the initiative, yet still vented all her anger on me. I turned cold. “Then do you know the boyfriend you talk about is already married? “I am…” While Chloe was stunned, I stepped forward, raised my hand, wanting to return that slap. But was grabbed by Ethan by the wrist. He rubbed his brow, impatient: “Enough! “Look at yourself, do you have half the demeanor of Mrs. Thorne!” At this moment. I suddenly realized, the surging love for Ethan for many years, disappeared completely in just a few minutes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389456”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel