Category: English

A photo of me and Chloe Thorne went viral overnight. In it, we’re wearing our blue and white school uniforms, standing side-by-side, throwing up peace signs. Attached is a photo of the grade rankings: Chloe is #1, I am #2. A netizen commented: [There’s zero romance in their eyes. Just pure determination to study the other one to death.] I’ve been crushed by Chloe for ten years. I thought I was doomed to be the eternal runner-up. Until one day, I woke up… And realized I’m the villainous male side character in a high school romance novel. And Chloe is the female lead. Realizing this didn’t make me sad at all. I knew my chance had come! I’m going to be number one! 1 I’ve been second to Chloe Thorne for a decade. Every exam, I’m exactly one rank behind her. I am the eternal runner-up on the honor roll. Then one day, while napping on my desk during a break, I gained sentience. I discovered I’m the villainous side character in a YA romance novel. In the story, I wreak havoc to sabotage the romance between the female lead and the male lead, eventually getting myself expelled. The female lead and the transfer student male lead, after “overcoming” the obstacle that is me, successfully get together. However, their grades slip due to dating, and their families force them apart. To save the male lead from his abusive father, the female lead intentionally misses the SATs, repeats a year with him, and they both get into their dream university, living happily ever after. The heroine of this story is Chloe Thorne, the girl who always beats me. After waking up, I sat up straight and glanced at Chloe, who was chatting with the person in front of her in the next row. The world is going to hell. How can this old rival be the heroine? But it doesn’t matter. In the novel, the male lead is supposed to transfer to our class in the next few days. His arrival marks the beginning of my bright future. As long as I refuse to play the villain, I won’t be affected by their plot. I can defeat Chloe and finally become number one! My excitement lasted almost the entire day. Just thinking about my upcoming comeback made it hard to control my facial expressions. That evening, walking home with Chloe, I didn’t bother suppressing my glee. Chloe’s face remained neutral, but she was speed-walking like an Olympian. Our moms are best friends, and we live directly across the street from each other. Before entering her house, she looked at me like I was an idiot, then quickly slammed the door. After dinner, I got a text from my buddy, Mike: “Bro, you’re a legend!” Attached was a link to a video I posted on social media a few days ago when the midterm results came out. The video contained only two images. One was a screenshot of me and Chloe, the other was the midterm ranking list. No caption, but the netizens understood me perfectly. “There’s zero romance in their eyes. Just pure determination to study the other one to death.” “The girl is even holding a pen in the photo.” “When is the guy gonna assassinate the girl to take first place?” I liked the comment about assassination. Soon. 2 The male lead transferred to our class the next day. When he introduced himself as Julian Summerfield, I knew it. He was the one. My dream wasn’t baseless; this was all real. Just like in the novel, Julian was seated next to Chloe. I sat diagonally behind Chloe. A slight turn of my head, and I could see their backs. On the first day, Julian probably hadn’t received his new textbooks yet. Chloe placed her worksheet between their desks so they could share. The math teacher was explaining a crucial concept. Both of them lowered their heads simultaneously to look at the problem. They looked up at the same time, finding their faces inches apart. Realizing the awkwardness, both quickly sat up straight. I couldn’t see their expressions, but I clearly saw Julian awkwardly bring a fist to his mouth and cough lightly. And Chloe’s ears and neck turned bright red. A strange feeling bubbled up inside me. I steadied myself and looked away. This is what I wanted, right? Ethan Vance, stop looking at women! Focus on studying! I took a deep breath and forced my attention to the blackboard. After the first period, several girls gathered around Julian’s desk. I glanced over. Two of them were the “artsy” girls in our class, known for partying and dating around. The male lead is handsome; naturally, he attracted their attention. Suddenly surrounded, Julian looked overwhelmed in his seat. As the class monitor, I was about to go over and maintain order, but I saw Chloe returning from the bathroom and stepping in front of Julian. “Nothing better to do? I just saw Mr. Davis in the lobby, heading this way.” Hearing the homeroom teacher was coming, the girls scattered back to their seats. Julian smiled shyly at Chloe in gratitude. I sheepishly pulled back the leg I was about to step forward with. A moment later, Mr. Davis did appear at the door. But he didn’t come in. Instead, he waved me over to the office to check some files. Standing in the office, mechanically searching through a stack of papers for my classmates’ tests… My mind was filled with the image from earlier: the girl in the blue and white uniform, backlit by the window, shielding the anxious boy behind her. And the boy looking at her with eyes full of gratitude and shyness. That must be what liking someone looks like. Sure enough, the male and female leads are destined to attract each other. It’s only the first day, and they’re already like positive and negative poles, rapidly closing the distance. I looked at the answer sheet I had absentmindedly flipped through and shook my head, trying to shake those unwanted emotions out of my brain. Walking home with Chloe that night, I was unusually silent, contrary to my usual chatterbox self. Surprisingly, Chloe, usually the listener, spoke first. “What’s wrong today? Something on your mind?” I looked up into her confused and concerned eyes. What should I say? That what I’m thinking about has to do with her? Growing up together for over ten years, this was the first time I hesitated to speak to her. After thinking for a while, I could only ask indirectly. “What do you think… of Julian Summerfield?” A flicker of confusion passed through Chloe’s eyes. “Why ask about him?” “Oh, you know, I’m the class monitor. Gotta get to know the classmates, makes communication easier later.” I lied with a laugh, but Chloe nodded understandingly. “Him? He’s nice. A very quiet guy.” It was a neutral comment, but my heart sank inexplicably. Freshman year, our parents suspected us of dating early. We sat between our two dads explaining for nearly an afternoon. But because Chloe said, “How could I like Ethan Vance? If I liked anyone, it would be a quiet guy.” I punched her several times right in front of our parents. That was also when the slight flutter in my adolescent heart for her was strangled in the cradle. My feelings for her were complicated. At least, I couldn’t figure them out myself. We were just childhood friends who grew up bickering. So why am I so sad right now? I didn’t speak again the whole way. She just walked quietly beside me. When we parted ways at our doors, she hesitated, then just said one thing. “See you tomorrow.” 3 Julian successfully integrated into the class. He was beautiful, kind, and had a great personality. Everyone liked him. Even I had to admit, he was a good guy. No wonder Chloe, usually so picky, liked him so much. Without my interference this time, their relationship would probably progress faster. And it did. In just a few days, the way Julian looked at Chloe changed noticeably. Julian wasn’t great at math, so Mr. Davis asked Chloe, his desk mate, to help tutor him. During that time, besides breaks, Chloe would stay late after school to tutor Julian in math. For several days, our walk home changed from the two of us to just me. I tried desperately to ignore the strange feeling in my heart. Studying until midnight every day, waking up at 5:30 AM sharp, washing up, breakfast, school. Being extremely busy seemed to make me forget the loss. Until a week later at dismissal, Chloe rarely rejected Julian’s tutoring request, quickly packed her bag, and ran to me. “Let’s go! Got my allowance today, treating you to hotpot.” I looked at her blankly. “Don’t you need to tutor him today?” Almost the instant the words left my mouth, I regretted it. What does it matter to me what she does? I sounded jealous. But Chloe didn’t mind at all, still smiling at me. “I don’t have to tutor him every day. I taught him what he needed. From now on, I can walk home with you every day again.” Seeing her smiling eyes, I was stunned for a moment. “O-okay. I’m on cleaning duty today, wait for me a sec.” Chloe wordlessly helped me with most of the work, grabbed her bag, and left the classroom with me. On the way, we happily discussed ordering two plates of beef brisket and a plate of shrimp paste. Just out of the school gate, we passed a secluded alley. It was the route Chloe and I took to school every day. Usually quiet. But today, from a distance, I heard voices and a boy crying. Exchanging a glance with Chloe, we simultaneously quickened our pace. At the alley entrance, we saw several hooligans surrounding a boy in our uniform. It was Julian. Seeing them getting handsy, Chloe charged straight in. She grabbed the wrist of a blond punk trying to touch him. “Ah! Hurt! Are you crazy? Let go of me!” Amidst the blond’s wailing, the others quickly surrounded me and Chloe. “Yo, another handsome guy? How about you play with us sisters, and we’ll let you go?” One of them scanned me up and down, whistling flirtatiously. Chloe grabbed her collar and lifted her up. The others moved to help, but I kicked out. To prevent us from being bullied, our parents sent us to learn kickboxing from a young age. We weren’t pros, but dealing with a few punks was more than enough. Soon, we had them on the ground. Except one didn’t fight fair, pulling a knife and slashing my arm. Chloe’s eyes turned red with rage. She picked that person up to punch them again, but I stopped her. That night, accompanied by Chloe and Julian, I went to the hospital to get stitched up. On the way, Julian kept thanking us. He was thanking both of us, but the way he looked at Chloe held something different. Admiration, and worship. In the end, we didn’t get hotpot. The doctor said my wound wasn’t serious but I needed to eat bland food. Chloe and I got home after 8 PM. My mom nagged me for an hour about the wound on my arm. 4 For a while after that, Julian was obviously more attentive to Chloe. When Chloe played basketball, he waited in the crowd to give her water. I don’t know if Chloe accepted it, but everyone could see Julian liked Chloe. Chloe herself didn’t react much to it. I studied desperately, moving only between school and home, squeezing out every second to learn. But sometimes, my brain uncontrollably thought about Chloe. That face, always gentle with me, only frowning even when angry, visited my dreams more and more frequently. Before, I didn’t want to admit it. But now, I clearly realized I really liked Chloe. But she’s the female lead. Destined to be with the male lead. And I’m just the villainous side character. Villains who like the heroine never have a good ending.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389055”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The only condition I set for marrying Harrison Locke, the heir to the Locke Group empire, was that he buy my mother a seven-figure life insurance policy. Beyond that single term, he insisted on keeping our finances strictly split the bill —a bizarre, non-negotiable stipulation for a man with his staggering wealth. We were an agreement, not a couple. We clicked, precisely because we never crossed the line into emotional entanglement. That is, until my mother had a devastating car accident during a torrential storm, and I desperately needed the emergency funds. I worked up the nerve to go to Harry’s office to beg for a loan, but he slammed his hand down on the table, the sound echoing through his pristine executive suite. “Hundreds of thousands, just like that? My money doesn’t just appear out of thin air, Scarlett. We agreed: it’s strictly AA!” Defeated, I raced to the insurance company, only for the representative to inform me, without mercy: “The policy is indeed your mother’s, Mrs. Locke, but she is not the beneficiary.” A cold dread prickled my skin, and I frowned in confusion. I had been there. I’d watched my mother sign the papers myself! The staff member tapped a polished nail against the policy’s beneficiary line. The recipient of the multi-million-dollar payout was clearly listed as Genevieve White. 1 I didn’t even have time to process the shock before the five million dollars in the account was swiftly drained to zero. My final shard of hope was extinguished. I went back to Harry’s company. He was engrossed in a meeting, not even lifting his head. “I forgot to ask earlier,” he said, his voice flat. “What exactly did you need to borrow money for?” Twenty minutes earlier, the hospital had called. My mother was gone. If I had just gotten that insurance money. If his precious childhood sweetheart hadn’t swooped in to empty the account to fund her extravagant shopping spree. Maybe things would have been different. My entire body trembled, and every breath tore through my chest. “Harrison,” I choked out. “We’re getting a divorce.” The words finally got his attention. He looked up, a momentary flicker of surprise in his icy eyes. Meeting his confused gaze, I placed the insurance policy statement squarely on his mahogany desk. A shadow of guilt crossed his face, but he wouldn’t look directly at me. “They must have made a clerical error. Is this really worth threatening divorce over?” I let out a desperate, bitter laugh. He was lying. I’d heard the exchange myself at the insurance company just moments before. The manager had called him. “Mr. Locke, your wife showed up trying to claim the funds. Thankfully, I stalled her in time. Ms. White just completed the transfer.” Harry’s voice, cold and dismissive, had crackled through the phone. “Well done.” “I told you her family were grifters. First, they strong-armed my parents into pushing Scarlett onto me, and now her mother tries to pull an insurance scam. What’s the difference between her and some back-alley fraudster?” “I’m glad I had foresight. I promised Gigi—no matter who I married, my money would only ever go to her.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. I was merely an obligation forced upon him, and my mother was a “scam artist.” This was why, for years, he had guarded his wealth from me like a thief. I would cook a meticulously planned, romantic candlelit dinner, only to have him insist on splitting the bill for the ingredients at the end of the meal. Meanwhile, Genevieve White—Gigi—could casually use his unlimited black card, and I never saw him question a single charge. Suddenly, a wailing sob broke the brittle silence. “Please, don’t fight over me! I shouldn’t have spent your money, Harry. Mrs. Locke, I’ll return everything right now.” Gigi began dramatically ripping off her designer bags and shedding layers of jewelry. A sharp edge of a diamond bracelet grazed my cheek, and a thin line of blood traced its path down my face. Harry didn’t even flinch. He glared down at me, anger radiating off him. “Gigi can spend my money however she likes! I earned it running my company; it has absolutely nothing to do with you!” he roared. “And for God’s sake, there are countless old women trying to pull these stunts. You should check the facts before you come here crying!” He flung the words at me, then spun on his heel, ushering a tearful Gigi into a nearby changing room. The physical sting of the cut on my face was a fraction of the agony in my chest. I withdrew my gaze, picking up my phone and dialing the single hidden contact: Connor. “Help me get out of this,” I whispered into the phone. “I’m ready to fulfill our five-year agreement.” 2 I spent three days weeping through my mother’s memorial service. Harrison spent those same three days commissioning an extravagant, top-tier fireworks display to cheer Gigi up. I posted my grief, a raw, endless stream of memories and pain, on my private social media. He never once looked at it. I used to be like any girl, begging him to just hit ‘like’ on a photo. The response was always a cold, sharp sarcasm. “My time is valuable, Scarlett. It supports an entire company and the Locke name. Can you split the bill for that minute?” Just like when I had swallowed my pride and begged for a loan for my mother’s medical care. I wanted to tell him the terrifying reality of the situation, but his face was an impenetrable mask of annoyance. “Hundreds of thousands, just like that? My money doesn’t just appear out of thin air, Scarlett. We agreed: it’s strictly splitting the bill!” When I tried to speak again, Gigi stepped in, playing the perfect diplomat. “Mrs. Locke, you don’t need an excuse to buy designer bags, but ladies of our stature need to develop good habits! Harry is just looking out for you.” Hearing that, Harry had immediately looked at me with a flash of undisguised disgust, seeing only a greedy social climber. “Stop talking. I have a meeting in five minutes.” That was the moment I ran, grabbing for the final straw—the insurance company. I discovered it was a mere shroud, concealing the ugliest, most rotten part of our marriage. An inexpressible, suffocating ache lodged in my throat. Exhausted, I dragged myself back to the house. Harry had a housekeeper bring me a glass of milk. It was his pathetic attempt at an olive branch. Harry sighed, an air of put-upon martyrdom around him. “Did you really have to disappear for three days over a few hundred thousand? When did you get so childish?” “I finally managed to calm Gigi down. Don’t start another scene.” Holding the warm glass, a wave of coldness washed over my soul. My father had been Harry’s father’s driver. He’d been mortally wounded during an unexpected work accident. On his deathbed, my father entrusted me to the Lockes. I agreed to the marriage, honoring his last wish and sacrificing the path I had already been on. We went from initial sharp-tongued rivalry to what everyone assumed was a slow, enviable development of love. No one knew the truth. Aside from that one insurance policy for my mother, I had never once been interested in Harry’s vast fortune. It wasn’t until Gigi permanently returned to our lives that I truly understood my negligible value to him. If even a single insurance policy—my sole request—was a lie, then what about the rest? What was real? I was too tired to fight. I placed the milk down, the glass clicking softly on the marble counter. “She’d be much happier if you divorced me.” The next second, Harry exploded, slamming his fist on the table, his face a mask of fury. “Scarlett Reed! Your father’s remains had nowhere to go, and I built him a private memorial garden! Your mother was in and out of the hospital, and who do you think was discreetly footing the bills? I haven’t even confronted you about her insurance fraud yet!” “Scarlett, are you brave enough to actually leave?” My heart gave a heavy, painful lurch, and I finally forced myself to tell him the truth. “She’s already…” Before I could finish, his phone shrilled. Gigi’s sickly sweet voice, full of artificial concern, spilled from the speaker. I couldn’t bear to hear it. I turned and retreated to the bedroom to pack my things. That’s when an anonymous number sent two texts: [Harry was desperate to keep me from leaving the country after our last fight. He grabbed the steering wheel from your father, which is why he crashed.] [Why else would anyone build a mausoleum for a low-life driver, or marry a low-born woman like you?] 3 My body froze, my mind a terrible, echoing void. My father’s death was not an accident. It was the collateral damage of their selfish, reckless game. The door swung open behind me. Harry stood in the doorway. I stared into his eyes, my voice a broken rasp. “Did my father’s death have something to do with you?” A tiny, foolish piece of me still hoped. Maybe the text was a cruel prank. Maybe he wasn’t capable of such callousness. But the words he spoke next shattered that last fragile hope. “It was just a fluke accident. I paid a massive settlement, and he’s at peace now.” Boom. The sound was internal, the total collapse of everything I had hoped for. His eyes held no panic, only a faint, condescending sense of beneficence. A simple settlement, casually trading away my father’s life… Harry spoke again, his voice layered with sharp warning. “Don’t you dare bother Gigi with this. Tomorrow is her birthday. Put on something festive.” The next day, running a high fever, I was hauled out like a puppet by Harry and brought to Gigi’s birthday gala. The hot-pink dress he’d chosen for me felt grotesque, a sartorial insult. Gigi, the picture of innocence, wore a breathtaking princess gown on stage while Harry serenaded her with a painfully sincere rendition of her favorite song. Envious murmurs floated around the room. “If Scarlett hadn’t elbowed her way in, those two would be the perfect power couple.” “It’s heartbreaking. Their childhood romance destroyed by a gold-digging interloper. Why is she wearing that grim expression today?” … My heart felt like it was being sliced apart as I listened, while Harry continued his passionate tribute on stage. Then, the massive screen behind him, which had been showing vintage photos, suddenly flickered to black. It came back online, displaying a sequence of Gigi’s private, intimate photos. A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Before anyone could react, Gigi started shrieking and lunged at me. “Mrs. Locke, what did I ever do to you? You’ve destroyed my reputation in all of Manhattan!” I stumbled backward, a bewildered knot forming in my brow. “What are you talking about—” The words died in my throat. She snatched a decorative blade from a table and quickly scored a tiny, theatrical line on her wrist. The scratch was barely three centimeters, yet Harry’s face crumpled in panic. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of icy disappointment. “Scarlett! I told you to leave Gigi alone! Why are you always stirring up drama?” “Apologize to her. Now.” I stood stubbornly still. “I didn’t do anything. I won’t apologize.” Gigi began to sob louder, dropping dramatically to her knees. “Mrs. Locke, I know you hate me. I’ll never bother Harry again. I’ll leave you both in peace!” With a flourish, she scrambled up, dragging her skirt behind her, and ran onto the balcony, a terrifying ten-story drop to the street below. “Gigi, stop! Don’t do anything rash! This isn’t your fault!” Harry was in utter turmoil. He violently grabbed my arm and forced my knees to the floor. I looked up into his crimson, terrified eyes. He ground out the words through clenched teeth. “Apologize. Right now.” “What if I don’t?” Seeing my rigid defiance, a dangerous darkness swirled in his eyes. He slowly pulled out his phone. “I think you remember exactly how you paid for your father’s funeral expenses. Do I need to refresh your memory?” 4 In that instant, my blood ran backward. The night my father died, I had been unable to secure the medical funds, knocking on every door. A low-end fixer—a nightclub owner—found me. His proposition was to talk and drink with his clients. When I refused, they broke my wrist and photographed my degradation. Harry, seeing the chaos, had intervened. He confiscated the pictures and saved me from that hell. I had been naive enough to see him as my savior, my hero. I was wrong. He’d kept the images—every last one—stored on his phone, ready to be weaponized. I stared at the screen, every cell in my body trembling uncontrollably. Harry’s gaze was soft, but his words were utterly venomous. “Don’t make me do this. Just apologize. It’s Gigi’s birthday.” He began to mouth a silent countdown. An overwhelming wave of pure degradation crashed over me. I forced myself to stand and walk to Gigi. “I’m trash. I spread your private photos. I am sorry.” I bowed deeply, a gesture of absolute surrender. Seeing this, Gigi finally smiled in triumph and stepped safely back onto the patio. “But… everyone saw my body. An apology won’t fix how hurt I am…” Harry lovingly tapped her nose. “What will make it better, my little birthday girl?” Gigi didn’t answer. She grabbed Harry’s phone and tapped furiously on the screen for a moment. The next second, the most explicit photo of me was projected onto the colossal screen. I was stripped, immobilized, with someone forcing liquor down my throat. The room erupted in vicious, sneering laughter. “I never thought the supposedly ice-cold Mrs. Locke was this kind of trash! Stripping for anyone, huh?” “Look at that figure! She must be a D-cup. Never could tell under all those clothes.” “I guess she came here tonight to give us a show! Maybe she’ll strip again, ha ha ha!” … Staring at the nightmare on the screen, my tears finally broke. That night was the trauma that I could never, ever forget! “Gigi, delete the photo now!” Harry hesitated for a brief, agonizing moment, then moved to protect Gigi. “She’s just being playful, Scarlett. Don’t make a scene. We’ll handle this after the party.” I lunged, trying to snatch the phone, but Harry shoved me back with brutal force. I lost my footing and tumbled backward, crashing down the ten-step staircase from the stage. In that single, shattering moment, it felt like my internal organs had ruptured. All I could do was watch the humiliating image cycle across the screen. Harry’s absolute indifference shattered the final fragments of my heart. I don’t know when the music stopped. I weakly opened my eyes. Gigi was standing over me, looking down with a vicious, triumphant smirk. “What are you doing…” She tossed the heavy, decorative candelabra in her hand onto the highly flammable stage decorations, watching the flames lick up the fabric. I dragged my useless legs, trying to crawl away. But a colossal decorative pillar, its base already engulfed in flames, swayed, then crashed down onto my body. Harrison, who had casually turned to leave the stage, caught the shockwave of the scene. His heart seized in a sudden, violent terror. “Scarlett is still in there!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389071”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Five years ago, Julian Chen asked me if I wanted to go with him, and I did. I’ve always been clear-headed about the fact that there was no love between us. He needed a wife, and I needed money. I played the role of a wife diligently, squandering his money recklessly, asking if it pained him. He was wealthy enough to just smile and say: ask him for more if it wasn’t enough. Five years into our marriage, Julian Chen died. Great. No one to nag me about smoking and drinking anymore. I could take the money he left me and freely find young guys to enjoy life. Three days after Julian died, I received a letter from five years ago. The first sentence of the letter read: [To my wife.] 1 As soon as Julian died, I partied in the club for three days straight. Expensive bottles of wine worth tens or hundreds of thousands were opened on a whim, and male models lined up for me to choose. When I was tired of playing and went home, Julian’s lawyer handed me a letter. “This is the letter Mr. Chen left for you. According to the will, you are the sole heir to all his property.” My eyes widened in surprise. Oh my god. Was Julian crazy? I had only been married to him for five years, didn’t even have a child, and he gave me all his money. “Are you sure you read it right?” The lawyer nodded: “President Chen drafted the will himself, there can be no mistake.” Then Julian must have lost his mind. I couldn’t suppress the corners of my mouth, overwhelmed by immense joy, momentarily forgetting the letter he left me. Regarding Julian leaving all his money to me, his relatives were the most dissatisfied. When Julian died, they lay by the hospital bed crying their hearts out. Didn’t expect that after all that effort, they didn’t get a penny in the end. Julian’s parents died when he was young, and I was the only heir. The relatives came to make a scene, looking ferocious, trying to force me to split the money equally. Anyway, I used to mix in society, what kind of people haven’t I seen? Could they be more rascally than me? I was Julian’s wife for five years, this money is what I deserve. Trying to gouge money out of my hands is simply wishful thinking. I crossed my arms, leaned against the door, and watched them bark like dogs with a mocking smile. “Want money? Sure. Julian and I happened to have no children. Whoever kneels and calls me mom, I’ll give the child’s share to you.” A group of people whose ages added up to hundreds of years. Every one of them an elder. They were red-faced with anger, pointing at my nose and cursing. “You cheap slut from the gutter! Julian just died and you’re taking his money to find men, you’ll get karma!” I smiled indifferently: “Uncle, do you understand ‘seize the day’?” The dead are gone, shouldn’t the living live well? Besides, Julian and I had no feelings for each other. I married him just for money. He died and I got so much money for nothing, I’d wake up laughing even in my sleep. In life, the most important thing is money, everything else is bullshit. 2 After cursing away the pestering relatives, the 6’2″ male model I just added two days ago called me. “Sister, when are you coming to see me? I miss you so much I can’t sleep.” This coquettish tone made my heart flutter. “I have something to do these days, not coming for now.” Transferred a 9999 red packet to him right away, coaxing him with a little money. Hanging up the phone, I sat on the leather sofa drinking red wine, thinking about how to spend this money. So many zeros, even trypophobia would be cured. This is the life I fantasized about before. Money, time, and freedom, no need to live that dark life anymore, eat what I want, buy what I want, with no one controlling me. Aside from other things, I’m quite grateful to Julian. Back then, he met me at a banquet where I sneaked in hoping to hook a sugar daddy, and asked if I wanted to go with him. I asked him why. He smiled and said he needed a wife. Coincidentally, I needed money. Each took what they needed, best of both worlds. Suddenly remembered the letter he left me, didn’t know where I threw it. What could he say? A standard gentle, considerate gentleman without any sharpness, the letter would probably be full of literary stuff. I didn’t care much, even annoyed that he wanted to preach to me in a letter after death. The red wine wasn’t strong enough, and I’ve always been unhappy without alcohol. Got up and went downstairs to find the ice wine I froze. Opening the refrigerator, I saw a sticky note on the fridge wall. [Drink less ice wine, drink less alcohol.] I froze. Remembered, this was written by Julian. He didn’t like me smoking and drinking, said it was bad for health, and accompanied me to quit several times. I always couldn’t persist, telling him recklessly: “Habits formed long ago, can’t change.” Struggling in the murky society, suffered too much, alcohol and nicotine could numb the pain, naturally creating dependency. Even after marrying Julian and becoming a rich wife, I couldn’t change, not elegant enough, not decent enough, not gentle enough. Julian wouldn’t scold me, no contempt in his eyes, gentle as a quilt sunned under the sun. “Good habits can also be formed, I’ll accompany you.” He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, had no bad habits, interests were gardening, calligraphy, reading, mild and calm, seemed never to get angry. To me, it was boring to the extreme. I like flashy excitement, like all new things, high-profile enough to let everyone know I have money, a life attitude diametrically opposite to Julian. I dressed exaggeratedly, after having money I liked to wear valuable things on me, regardless of whether it looked good or suitable. Some mocked me as a nouveau riche who hadn’t seen the world. I didn’t care, asked Julian if I embarrassed him. He just smiled gently and said: “You are very beautiful.” Just like that, we lived peacefully under one roof for five whole years. 3 Seeing the words on the sticky note, I tutted irritably and slammed the refrigerator door. Trying to control me even after death, so annoying. Lost the mood to drink, I turned and went back upstairs. The room was quiet. The book he used to read every night was still on the bedside table. A thick and heavy book. I said it could be used to press instant noodles, he smiled and said let me try after he finished reading. The letter I didn’t know where I put was pressing on that book. I opened the letter, inside were two thin sheets of paper. Powerful and beautiful handwriting, his handwriting. I’m uneducated, came out to society before finishing high school. To me, writing letters is old-fashioned and outdated, very rustic. But his letter had a faint fragrance, making me less resistant. The lawyer said this letter was written five years ago. Julian instructed him to give it to me when he died. That is to say, he knew he was going to die long ago. Julian prepared this letter right after we got married. What would the letter say? Saying marrying me was just to make do, or asking me to divorce him after he died, not entering his family genealogy in the future, a woman like me would tarnish his reputation. If he was really afraid I would tarnish him, why marry me in the first place? Just thinking about it made me angry. I sneered mockingly, wanting to see what bullshit this dead man wanted to explain. The first sentence of the letter: [To my wife.] 4 When I was young, my family favored boys over girls. My parents’ incompetence created my pain. To support the little prince at home, I was kicked out of the house at fourteen to work illegally. From a young age, I realized no one loved me. To get my parents’ approval, I sent all the money I earned home, leaving only enough for food and clothing. Returning home for the New Year, parents were unusually enthusiastic and gentle. I was secretly happy, as happy as a child getting a desired toy. New Year’s Eve, after dinner, they told me not to go out to work this year, found me a good family, giving a betrothal gift of 100,000. That man was twenty years older than me, had two dead wives, and was disabled. No parents would push their child into a fire pit. So I packed my things in the middle of the night, admitted the fact that my parents didn’t love me, took my few luggage, stole money from home and ran away. I did many jobs, decent and indecent. As long as I could earn money to live, it didn’t matter what I did. At twenty, I met a man. He was considerate, bought me flowers, cakes, and dresses, took me for rides by the river on his electric scooter. The river wind was wet and cold, but my heart was warm. A man working on construction sites also had a warm and gentle heart. He didn’t disdain my background, felt sorry for my experiences. He was different from everyone else. I fell into his love lies unable to extricate myself. Until he gambled and drank, beat me black and blue, then robbed my money and ran away. Only then did I clearly realize that no one in this world would love me. I was abandoned garbage, a fly. Love meant nothing to me. I didn’t want love anymore, I wanted lots and lots of money. I was kept as a mistress, worked as a bar hostess, chat streamer, did everything except being a homewrecker and breaking the law. Saved quite a bit of money those years. Later met a kid, couldn’t afford school begging on the street. I softened and gave him a hundred bucks. Then that night I was targeted by his accomplices, home invasion robbery, almost died. I asked him why. The kid said others gave one or five, only I gave a hundred, must be rich. When the cold knife was against my neck, I swore, as long as I could live, I would be a bad woman, mean, vicious, selfish, low, cold.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389088”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I disguised myself as a man and successfully seduced a wealthy heiress from New York’s elite circle. She spread rumors about how “big” I was down there, trying to make her childhood sweetheart jealous. But the sweetheart remained indifferent, so angry that the heiress blurted out that she was pregnant, and the baby was mine. Only then did the sweetheart panic. And I panicked too. 1 “Victory.” I lowered my voice naturally as the wisps of smoke from my fingertips curled before the screen displaying the victory message. “Thank you, Jim. You’re really different from other game companions.” The female voice coming through the headphones was gentle and shy: “You never try to please me deliberately, but instead often mock my terrible gameplay…” “Just stating facts.” I glanced at the billing time, ash falling onto my faded boxer shorts: “Another round?” “Jim, actually, I like you—” She paused in a misleading spot: “Your straightforward and generous personality.” She paused again, “By the way, speaking of generous…” These little flirting tricks were like teaching a fish how to swim in front of me. I simply put the cigarette in my mouth, tucked the phone in my pocket, and got up to boil water for instant noodles. Seeing I didn’t speak, the other side obviously panicked: “Are, are you angry? Those are actually just some internet memes, I was just learning to play with them.” I put out the cigarette butt, cherishing words like gold, “No.” Who told internet male gods to be like this? Handsome profile pic, good skills, and most importantly, few words. High and cold enough to freeze people to death. The more airs you put on, the better the business. But unlike other male game companions, my profile pic wasn’t stolen from the internet. It was my selfie. My gaze jumped over the cramped rental room to the broken mirror pasted on the door. Short black hair, slightly upturned phoenix eyes, ink-black pupil color, straight nose bridge. As a girl from a small town, I was born with a good face. “Jim, I’ve been thinking about something for a long time…” The female voice on the other end took a deep breath, as if making up her mind: “Let’s meet, offline.” I raised my eyebrows slightly, about to refuse, when I heard her continue: “Meet once, I’ll give you $150,000.” “Pretend to be my boyfriend, and I’ll give you another $1.5 million.” 2 A New York night in late March, a paper-drunk gold-迷 night in late March. I stood outside a luxury store on Fifth Avenue, looking at the “young man” reflected in the glass— Black hoodie on top, jeans and sneakers below. This shabby outfit didn’t look like an “internet male god” at all. Fortunately, the face was my core equipment. The high-quality modeling made it so that even if I wore split-crotch pants, no one would notice my crotch was open. Plus good genes, as a girl my net height was already 5’9″ (175cm), adding 2 inches of internal lifts and 1 inch of external lifts. Making up a pleasing 6 feet (183cm) was more than enough. Even so, while I looked steady as a male model on the surface, my heart was pounding. It was easy to fake a male voice online, but in reality… could I really fool them? The other party was a wealthy heiress, knowledgeable and experienced. What if she saw through me at a glance and sued me for fraud? That $150,000, and the promised $1.5 million… Whatever, let’s gamble first. At this moment, I was awkwardly adjusting the eggplant tied to my waist for the third time. “Jim Gu?” A female voice, softer and sweeter than in the headphones, suddenly sounded from behind me. My body stiffened, and my right hand moved away from the eggplant in my crotch as if nothing happened. Then I looked back with feigned coldness. But I saw a woman behind me with long ink-black hair loosely tied up, a few strands of stray hair casually falling by her slender neck. And my gaze quickly swept over her Chanel dress, Hermes belt, Van Cleef & Arpels clover bracelet, and Roger Vivier square buckle heels. My brain went blank, only the “cha-ching” sound of a cash register constantly starting up. Chloe Lu was also stunned, her gaze lingering on me: “You in person… seem a bit different from the photo.” My heart almost stopped. Then a blush appeared on her fair cheeks: “Even more handsome than the photo.” …Miss Heiress, please stop reciting cheesy internet flirting lines, okay? I pursed my lips and lowered my eyes: “Thanks.” “Cough, I booked a table at Speak Low, my friends are waiting there.” Chloe reached out to me, the pearlescent polish on her manicured nails shining under the neon lights, “Go together?” I noticed the stiffness of her movement, hesitated for a moment, and still didn’t hold her hand: “Okay.” Facing my detachment, Chloe relaxed a bit instead, chuckling lightly: “You’re just as aloof as online.” I didn’t speak, just slowed down my pace all the way, silently matching the rhythm of her high heels. So this counts as… passing the test? But this was only the first level. Not long after arriving at the bar, just the way of entering was a trick I had never seen before. Walking inside, the lights were slightly dim, jazz music flowed softly, and the sound of ice cubes colliding was pleasant. “Chloe!” Several fashionably dressed young people sat in the central booth. Seeing Chloe enter, they waved immediately. “Damn, is this the internet boyfriend you talked about?” One of the girls with short hair looked me up and down, her eyes lighting up again and again. “This is too good-looking! Pretty enough to be a girl! Chloe, you good girl hid a ‘golden house beauty’ quite deep!” —Pretty enough to be a girl. That unintentional remark tightened my heart, unconsciously pressing my tongue against the roof of my mouth to keep my expression calm. Facing her friend’s winking, Chloe became more embarrassed, “Linsey, stop it.” She then turned around and introduced me softly, “Jim, this is Linsey Lin, my good friend, that’s Ryan, Linsey’s brother, that is…” I silently memorized the names, occasionally nodding in greeting. At the same time, I noticed “Ryan” with trendy red hair, who had been staring at me since I entered—with a suspicious gaze. “Heard you’re still in school.” He asked, “Which university?” “Rivertown University.” I made up a school name from my hometown. “Never heard of it.” Ryan said immediately, “Third-tier or community college?” I didn’t answer, nor did I appear angry. Instead, Chloe beside me bit her lip slightly. Linsey slapped her brother, “Alright, Bro! Not everyone has to go to Columbia like you.” Fortunately, the waiter brought a round of drinks, slightly diluting the awkwardness in the atmosphere. Chloe considerately handed me a glass, while she ordered a glass of warm milk herself: “Jim, this is their signature, you can try it.” I took the glass and took a sip. Spicier than beer, not as sweet as iced tea. I really can’t get used to high-end stuff. “So, how did you two meet?” Linsey leaned forward with a bad smile, looking gossipy. “Cough… I ordered Jim’s game companion service.” Chloe smiled, her fingers resting on my wrist, “Found his skills particularly good, and he’s a nice person, so we gradually got familiar.” The slightly cool temperature of her fingertips transmitted through my skin; obviously, she was also nervous about lying. “Game companion?” Ryan sneered, his fingertips pressing against the rim of the glass, making a slight scraping sound, “Chloe, when did you start playing with this kind of stuff?” “Is there a problem?” Chloe’s tone remained gentle, but I heard a trace of uncomfortable tension. Ryan looked away and shrugged: “Nothing, I just feel you’ve changed, ever since last time Julian Shen…” Chloe’s expression froze instantly, like being frozen: “I don’t want to talk about this.” “…Sorry.” Ryan raised both hands, then glanced at me, “I’m just worried you’ll be cheated by a scumbag.” Ice cubes melted slowly in the amber liquid. My gaze moved from the ice in the glass to Ryan’s face. At an angle Chloe couldn’t see, I smiled provocatively at him. Ryan was stunned, then almost flipped the table, “What are you laughing at!?” Linsey got impatient, “Bro, why are you always startled tonight? If you hadn’t sworn you weren’t interested in Chloe, I would have thought you were jealous.” “You didn’t see!” Ryan stood up, pointing his right hand at me, “He’s a green tea boy!” Chloe looked at me subconsciously. And I had already returned to calm, tilting my head slightly, eyes full of innocent confusion, “What?” “Fuck! He’s acting!” Ryan gritted his teeth in anger, “Chloe, you can’t be with this kind of person…” “Enough!” Chloe raised her voice for the first time: “This is my choice, Ryan, I hope you can respect it.” Ryan opened his mouth but was speechless. Finally, he sat back without a word, grabbed his glass, and downed a large gulp. “Oh my, Bro, drink less, your alcohol tolerance isn’t good…” Linsey tutted beside him. At this moment, I felt the eggplant at my waist loosen a bit, and busily adjusted my sitting posture while sipping wine, trying to prevent a disaster. But the eggplant slid down uncontrollably, the cloth strip completely loose. Damn it, knew I shouldn’t have been greedy for small bargains and bought a professional fake one instead. Seeming to notice my small action of frowning, Linsey asked with concern, “Are you okay? Uncomfortable? Newbies might not be used to the alcohol here.” “I’m fine.” I answered briefly, then turned to Chloe, “Where is the restroom?” “I’ll take you.” Chloe wanted to get up. “No need, just point the direction.” I stopped her immediately to prevent her from seeing more awkward arcs in awkward places. “Over there! Turn right out the door, at the end.” Linsey pointed the direction actively. I nodded in thanks, stood up as naturally as possible, one hand pressing inconspicuously on my waist, and headed straight for the restroom. Quick, quick, quick. And another problem came, should I go to the women’s or men’s room? I hesitated for half a second, looking at my appearance in men’s clothing in the mirror, and finally pushed open the door to the men’s room. No one. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the cloth strip tying the eggplant completely loose, hurriedly pulled my belt with both hands, rushing towards the stall. However, just as I pushed open the stall door, the main door of the men’s room was pushed open again, making a dull sound. Ryan strode in, wrapped in a slight smell of alcohol, “Hey.” My back paused, but only for a moment, stepping straight into the stall to lock the door. Ryan grabbed my arm from behind: “Hey! I’m talking to you, what are you pretending to be deaf for!?” “What is it?” I stiffened, the other hand clutching my waistband. Ryan sneered, “Chloe’s family is very rich, richer than your impoverished poor imagination can imagine, do you understand?” “…Understood, can you let go of me now?” My voice was tense. Dying, dying, the completely freed eggplant started sliding down my thigh, if it falls out of the pant leg, it’s over. “You don’t understand, Chloe has never been in a relationship, very innocent, she recently experienced some… things, that’s why she’s acting out.” Ryan’s tone suddenly softened a bit, “So if you approached her just for money, you’d better stop now.” “This is between me and her.” I said irritably, trying hard to break free from his shackles, “Now I need to use the restroom, can you not block the door like a pervert?” Hearing this, Ryan was like a fire sprayed with alcohol, grabbing my wrist again, nails digging into my flesh. “Fuck! You’re just a somewhat good-looking hillbilly, what are you arrogant about!” Ryan exerted force suddenly, pulling me to face him, distance momentarily close enough to feel each other’s breath, “You…” In this instant, the eggplant on my thigh finally couldn’t bear the burden, sliding towards the pant leg with the sound of fabric friction. Ryan’s gaze moved down, seeing that abnormal protrusion, his expression went blank, “Your…” Anxious, I simply pulled the eggplant out of my pant leg and smashed it on his head: “Die gay, get lost!” 3 When I washed my hands and returned to the booth, Chloe was turning sideways chatting with Linsey. But she was obviously absent-minded, her amber eyes drifting towards the bar entrance from time to time, as if waiting for someone. —Waiting for that Julian Shen, I guess. Seeing me return, Chloe was stunned for a moment, seeming to almost forget me, her “boyfriend.” She hurriedly withdrew her gaze, squeezing out a slightly stiff smile: “Jim, you’re back, are you okay?” I shook my head. Linsey also looked behind me, “Where’s my brother? He didn’t make things difficult for you, did he? Just now after you went to the restroom he insisted on going, and I couldn’t really tie him to the seat not letting him go…” I still shook my head. Linsey sighed again, “Sigh, my brother isn’t bad at heart, always treating Chloe as a biological sister, just too protective.” “Jim, did Ryan say anything to you?” Chloe asked, eyes flickering. “Not much.” I sat back beside her, “Just some conversation between guys.” Before Chloe’s face looked more worried, I continued lightly: “But he drank too much, when I came out he was still puking in the toilet, hope he’s okay.” —Hope he’s okay after being knocked out by my eggplant and having a baby-like sleep. Hearing me say this, Chloe and Linsey looked at each other, both appearing surprised. Linsey rubbed her forehead, obviously feeling embarrassed for her brother, “What did I say earlier, trying to be brave with that terrible alcohol tolerance, hey, I’ll go check on him in the restroom, don’t want him to drown in the toilet, then I’ll be an only child.” After saying that, she grabbed another male friend as a helper, not forgetting to wink at Chloe: “The night is still long, you young couple chat slowly~” Caused to blush by her hint, Chloe didn’t know what to say, so she handed me another drink. Blue, very beautiful. Chloe then picked up her glass of milk, gently touching mine: “Jim, thank you for coming to see me.” I sipped that beautiful blue, ice-cold and sweet, much better than the previous one. “No need to thank.” I couldn’t help taking another sip before continuing, “I’m also just doing it for money.” Seeming not expecting me to be so direct, the blush on Chloe’s face faded a little, corner of her mouth stagnating. But immediately after, her gaze suddenly crossed my shoulder, fixed in the distance. Chloe’s expression changed instantly, tense like a freshly dried sculpture. I looked back, seeing a man and a woman walking in from the main entrance, like a cold wind blowing into the warm bar. The boy wore a simple but textured white shirt, looking outstandingly clean, his temperament even having a kind of aloofness incompatible with this luxurious environment, brows furrowed tightly, looking like he was forced to come. And the girl beside him with long wavy hair dyed milk tea color, wearing an off-shoulder pink dress, looked charming and cute. At this moment looking around curiously, eyes unable to hide amazement. “Eh, isn’t that Julian Shen whom the Lu family sponsored since childhood? The girl beside him is…” Someone whispered, gossiping eyes glancing at Chloe. And Chloe just lowered her head to adjust her already very neat skirt. Sitting for a few more seconds, she stood up, movements still appearing somewhat hasty, “Julian, over here.” Julian Shen’s gaze fell over, sweeping over everyone in the booth, thin lips pursed tight, walking over slowly. Looking exactly like reluctantly forced into prostitution. Seeing this, I raised my eyebrows slightly, sizing him up from a distance. Not as handsome as me, not as tall as me after lifts, just temperament more… aloof than me. When the two approached, I noticed that Julian Shen was also carrying a small bag. “…Happy birthday.” He handed out the gift. Chloe’s eyes brightened instantly, taking the small bag with both hands: “Thank you! Julian, I like it very much!” Then, as if realizing her overreaction, Chloe’s cheeks blushed slightly, coughing lightly. She turned to me as if making up for it, “Jim, this is Julian Shen, Julian, this is Jim Gu, my… boyfriend.” The word “boyfriend” floated lightly from her mouth, but carried a subtle weight. Julian briefly looked at me for a few seconds, then looked away. Showing no emotion change— Until a small fist hit his arm next to him. “Senior Shen, you are too much!” Now not only Julian was stunned, Chloe’s smile also froze. “How could you forget to tell me today is Miss Lu’s birthday, causing me to prepare nothing, coming with you empty-handed! How rude this is!” The girl hit Julian a few more times, then bowed to Chloe repeatedly, “Sorry sorry! Hello Miss Lu, my name is Yola You, I really didn’t know today is your birthday, I will definitely make up the gift next time…” That timid appearance, as if she would cry from being scolded by Chloe in the next second. “No need to apologize, not something important anyway.” Julian frowned unhappily, stopping Yola, “She won’t mind.” He didn’t care about the place Yola hit either, tone carrying some helplessness and doting, as if comforting an ignorant child. And I noticed Chloe’s fingers pinching the gift bag tightened, knuckles slightly pale. That sentence “She won’t mind these”, was both an excuse for Yola and a definition for Chloe. —He made the decision for Chloe, yet didn’t even look at her. Now I probably understand why Chloe hired me to pretend to be her boyfriend. I stood up: “You’re right.” Then my right hand gently rested on Chloe’s shoulder. “Our Chloe indeed won’t mind those unimportant people.” Chloe’s shoulder trembled slightly, those beautiful amber eyes looking up at me in surprise. I pursed a shallow smile at her, taking the opportunity to put my arm around her and sit back down. Taking money to do work, value for money. In our line of work, nothing else matters, protecting the master comes first. True in games, even more so in reality. Julian finally cast his gaze on me, brows furrowed tighter, while Yola widened her eyes, a flash of amazement in her eyes looking at me. This was also the first time Chloe saw me smile, she was stunned for a moment, then remembered to say, “Julian, and this… Miss You, you sit too, just friends gathering casually tonight, no need to be restrained.” Julian pursed his lips straight, didn’t respond to Chloe, just pulled out chairs for Yola and himself. But his straight back and tense jawline exposed his discomfort. The waiter came over to ask for orders timely, Yola swept over the expensive prices on the drink menu, timidly said: “Um, I don’t quite understand these…” “She wants a glass of orange juice.” Julian said simply, expression neither humble nor arrogant, “I just want lemon water.” This plain choice actually gave me some sense of intimacy. I couldn’t help looking at Julian more, while he completely ignored me. “Julian, you can order something else, I’m paying tonight…” Chloe couldn’t help speaking. Her voice was very soft, carrying a trace of habitual fawning and humbleness. “Thanks, no need, I didn’t want to come here originally, so no need to spend.” Julian interrupted indifferently, this detachment, even wrapped in politeness, was still sharp. Chloe’s shoulders trembled slightly, seeming finally unable to bear it, she covered her mouth and stood up abruptly, “Sorry… I’m going to the restroom.” “I’ll go with you!” Yola immediately followed enthusiastically. For a moment, this corner of the booth only had me and Julian left. Others seemed to smell the gunpowder of the Shura field (intense conflict), pretending to chat devotedly to avoid being involved. And since the heiress wasn’t there, I didn’t need to put on airs anymore, leaning back relaxed, tasting the small wine, just short of a cigarette. Julian’s peripheral vision therefore stayed on me for a moment, with some scrutinizing meaning. I simply turned my face, letting him see clearly, “Good looking?” Caught off guard meeting my full face and gaze, Julian stiffened, like a rabbit blinded by high beams in the dark night. “…” “You don’t speak, I’ll take it as your default.” Defaulting he didn’t recognize I was actually a girl. “…How long have you been dating?” Julian asked suddenly. Cup rim against lips, I lifted my eyelids, answering quickly: “What does it have to do with you?” Julian’s brows were cold as frost, finally a ripple in his eyes: “Your etiquette and upbringing are really as cheap as your clothes.” I slowly drank the wine in one go, alcohol leaving a burning touch in my throat. “Male students sponsored by rich people are indeed different.” I finally laughed casually, “Even cursing is gentle.” Julian’s gaze finally turned completely to me, like a blade across glass: “The male game companion Chloe ordered frequently a while ago, is you right.” “Guess.” My tone calm with provocation, “Any opinion?” “I don’t.” Julian stared at me, “But the Lu family will. The Lu family is not an ordinary family, how far do you think you, a companion pleasing women by playing games, can go?” The light cast a shadow on his slightly tightened jawline, outlining a sharp boundary. I hooked a mockery: “This question should be asked to yourself.” A trace of annoyance flashed in Julian’s eyes: “Don’t change the subject, do you think Chloe really likes you?” His voice was cold, “She is just using you to make me jealous.” “Oh, so you know very well.” I raised my eyebrows, “Since you know, why did you bring that junior sister? Want to prove you don’t care that much?” Julian’s expression froze slightly, then returned to calm: “Yola and I are just in the same lab, today she asked me to bring her to see…” “Yeah yeah yeah.” I was too lazy to listen. Thinking I didn’t believe, Julian’s displeasure increased: “Listen, I don’t care who you are, nor what deal is between you and Chloe, but I advise you to stop early.” “Or else?” “Or else you will regret it.” Julian said coldly, “The Lu family is not something people like you can climb.” I chuckled lightly: “What about you? Aren’t you climbing too?” Julian’s expression instantly became cold as ice: “What do you mean?” “Literal meaning.” I looked straight into his eyes, “I guess, you also have feelings for Chloe, but refuse to admit due to self-esteem, now seeing her with someone else, starting to get restless again.” Julian’s face turned iron blue, ten fingers clenched: “What do you know?” “Know more than you imagine.” I looked towards the restroom. “For example, Chloe has been sad enough for you.” Julian was stunned. After a moment, just as he was about to speak again, footsteps came from the direction of the restroom. But saw Linsey holding pale-faced Chloe returning, Yola following behind, looking frightened. And behind the few people, the male friend grabbed by Linsey was carrying a red-haired guy with unsteady steps. So I looked up, exactly meeting Ryan’s eyes dyed with drunkenness but unusually clear. My expression froze slightly. What the hell, that guy I knocked out with an eggplant, why woke up at this time?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389104”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’d been running on fumes for two weeks straight, sacrificing weekends and late nights, but it finally paid off. I landed that twelve-million-dollar deal, the one that snatched the company back from the brink of insolvency. My boss, Rick Graham, was ecstatic. At the victory dinner, he’d called me the “backbone of the firm” and promised me a substantial bonus. But when the end-of-month pay stub hit my inbox, I stared at the line item for commission, and the blood drained from my face. A debit of $250. My commission was negative? I actually owed the company two hundred and fifty dollars? I immediately called Finance. “Brenda, my pay statement—there must be a mistake.” Brenda, the payroll manager, sounded deliberately vague. “No mistake, Bella. That’s Mr. Graham’s specific cost-accounting method. He said you’d understand.” My heart sank. I bypassed the phone and knocked directly on Graham’s door. He handed me a sheet of convoluted figures, smiling benignly. “That twelve-million-dollar order you signed? After factoring in the resource concessions, the advance capital outlay, and hidden overhead, the company’s net loss was $150,000. Due to the, ah, personal way you structured the deal, you’re responsible for 5% of that loss, which is $7,500.” He gestured to the sheet. “We were generous and used your entire base salary to offset it. But since your salary wasn’t enough, you still owe the company two hundred and fifty dollars. Don’t worry,” he added with a wave of his hand, “the company is big-hearted. We’ll waive that.” Then, moments later, the firm announced a ten-thousand-dollar bonus for Piper Wells, the fresh-faced intern who had just started and was known to be a personal friend of the family. Watching the obvious favorite excitedly invite the whole office out to celebrate her windfall, something inside me broke. I was done. Utterly, irrevocably done. I started doing the bare minimum. Clocking in, clocking out. Nothing more. A few days later, a critical project faced a major flaw, threatening the company with a massive penalty. Graham begged me to fix it. I smiled back, just as benignly as he had. “My apologies, Graham,” I said, showing him a folder. “I just finished processing my resignation. I’m no longer an employee of this firm.” “You’ll need to find the person who received that ten-thousand-dollar bonus to clean up the mess.” 1 Listening to him casually use the phrase “the company is big-hearted, we’ll waive that,” my entire body went cold. Even my fingertips were numb. My voice shook. “Graham! To land that deal, I worked two weeks straight! I drank until I ended up in the emergency room with a bleeding ulcer! Every single concession, every clause, was reported to you and got your explicit sign-off! Now you’re claiming this is a loss caused by my personal actions?” I pushed up the sleeve of my left arm. The red, fading scar, still clearly visible from when I’d scalded myself with coffee rushing a project report, was a perfect, angry testament. “This is the ‘backbone of the firm’ you mentioned at the dinner? My value is negative two hundred and fifty?” Graham’s face darkened. “Bella Steele!” He stressed my name, his tone a clear warning. “Mind your attitude! This is a professional environment. We affirm success, but we do not ignore problems! Your value isn’t measured by a headline contract amount, but by the net result! You need to think long-term, not just obsess over petty cash!” The company was collapsing. I’d single-handedly pulled them out of the fire with that deal. And this was the reward. My soul shriveled. All the grand visions, all the promises of a future and career path—they all became sickeningly ridiculous in that moment. I took the cost-accounting sheet and walked back to my desk. I’d barely collapsed into my chair when Brenda, from the opposite cubicle, leaned over with a smile full of nosy anticipation. “Bella, back so soon? Mr. Graham must have given you a huge bonus, right? A contract that big, your commission must be… this much?” She made a subtle hand gesture, her eyes wide with envy. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Negative two hundred and fifty. The sheer absurdity made me want to laugh hysterically. Before I could form a response, Ben, a younger colleague, walked by with a coffee cup and leaned in conspiratorially. “Bella, did you hear? Piper Wells, the new intern in Admin—she’s only been here a month, and Graham just personally approved a ten-thousand-dollar bonus! Ten grand! It’s supposedly for her ‘potential contributions.’ Some people just have all the luck.” Piper, the boss’s relative. Her potential contribution? Ten thousand? I landed a twelve-million-dollar contract and incurred a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar debt. All the accumulated frustration and anger boiled over. “How much did I get?” I sneered, opening the company-wide chat. “I’ll show you how much I got.” I attached my pay stub and posted it. 2 I took a deep, shuddering breath and typed furiously. [Bella Steele] @RickGraham Rick, would you mind explaining to the team why, after signing a $12 Million contract for the company, your accounting method shows my commission as a negative $8,750, leaving me personally owing the company $250? [Bella Steele] And why is it that a new intern, Piper Wells, who has been here for one month, received a special bonus of $10,000? What specific, quantifiable contribution valued at $10,000 did she make to the company? I leaned back, my chest heaving, my hands still trembling slightly. Graham’s public response popped up in the company chat, the tone instantly harsh and disciplinary. [Rick Graham] @BellaSteele Who authorized you to discuss a colleague’s compensation in a public forum? This is a severe violation of company policy! As the CEO, I see and acknowledge Piper Wells’ contributions, and her compensation is entirely appropriate! It is not your place to question it! [Rick Graham] You caused the company a calculated, actual loss! The company chose not to pursue damages, which is an act of extreme goodwill! Do not be ungrateful, do not muddy the waters, and do not try to incite dissent! It turned out that twisting reality could be done with a straight face and full self-righteousness. My fingers shook as I typed my final reply: [Bella Steele] Since my hard work securing $12 Million is considered a loss, I will, from today onward, dedicate myself to being a quiet, compliant employee, ensuring I will not generate the company a single dollar of new, negative return! I closed all my work-related documents and webpages, and clicked open the system’s pre-installed game of Spider Solitaire. No orders, no negative returns. Simple. I was officially playing the corporate martyr. At five-thirty, the end of the workday. I didn’t, as I had countless nights before, glance over any pending tasks or strategize for the next day’s client calls. I shut down my computer and stood up to leave. “Bella… you’re leaving already?” Ben from the next cubicle asked instinctively, staring at his pile of unfinished work. “Yep,” I nodded, my tone even. “Clocked out. Why stay? To create new negative profit?” As I reached the main exit, Graham’s angry voice boomed behind me: “Bella Steele! Where is the client data analysis report? Mr. Thompson needs it first thing tomorrow!” I paused, turning back slightly. “Graham, I’m clearly incompetent. You should find a more capable colleague—or one whose contributions are valued—to handle it.” Graham’s face was dark purple. He roared, “Fine! Piper, you take over the Thompson account! And you’re out as Team Lead, effective immediately!” Piper’s voice was full of breathless excitement. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Graham!” I walked out, a cold smile forming. Let’s see her handle it, I thought. 3 The next morning, Graham’s voice was booming in the office. “Mr. Thompson, Bella’s been under the weather lately, yes. But we’ve assigned a more senior colleague to the follow-up. Absolutely no issues!” My heart gave a faint, cynical skip. It was Mr. Thompson, the twelve-million-dollar client. More senior? I scoffed internally. Who else in this company understood the complex, customized requirements of that project the way I did? Graham deliberately walked over to my desk. “Bella, the company has decided to focus on developing Piper’s skills, and she’s now Project Lead. You need to adjust your attitude and check your emotions at the door. The company keeps turning, with or without you!” I gave him a sweet, fake smile. “Understood, Graham. I’m completely unbothered.” Piper smugly took her place at my old Team Lead desk. The crucial project coordination meeting began precisely on time that afternoon. Mr. Thompson and his team were already seated in the conference room. I sat at my cubicle and could just faintly hear the muffled conversation, which, surprisingly, didn’t sound like the intense argument I’d expected. A long while later, the door opened. Graham walked out, accompanying Mr. Thompson and his team, wearing a look of relieved satisfaction. “Mr. Thompson, don’t worry, Piper is young, but she’s a quick study. We will absolutely deliver on this project!” Graham’s voice was sickeningly sycophantic. Mr. Thompson nodded faintly, then spoke to a clearly expectant Piper. “Ms. Wells, that initial report and your presentation outline were very clear. Good foundation. Keep it up.” It wasn’t a glowing review, but to Graham and Piper, it was the sound of a heavenly choir. “Thank you, Mr. Thompson! I’ll work even harder!” Piper’s voice trembled with excitement. After seeing off the client, Graham clapped Piper heavily on the shoulder and declared loudly, making sure the entire office heard: “Excellent! Well done! I knew you could do it! Some people, who think too highly of themselves, need to see the new guard taking over!” The office eyes shifted, intentionally or not, toward me. Piper, clutching a folder, walked over to me, her face alight with triumph. “Bella,” she said, flaunting the folder. “You heard Mr. Thompson, right? Honestly, it wasn’t much—just a basic analysis report. Maybe it’s complicated for some people, but I think, if you just apply yourself, it’s no big deal.” She deliberately held the folder up and shook it in front of me. “Looks like the company keeps turning just fine without anyone, doesn’t it? Maybe even better.” I recognized the report instantly. It was a draft file I had saved on my work computer. My voice remained calm. “That report you handed Mr. Thompson, that was a file from my computer, correct?” Piper’s face went rigid with indignation. “So what if it was? The computer is company property, so the files are company assets! As the Project Lead, what’s the problem with using company data?” “The problem is presenting someone else’s labor as your own, and using it to claim credit. That’s theft.” “You’re lying!” Piper shrieked, like a cornered animal. “I referenced it! I borrowed it! Graham said all resources must be used for the project! I already copied every single follow-up folder for this account from your computer! It’s all gone! Whether you’re here or not is irrelevant to the project now!” I allowed myself a small, internal smile. “Then I sincerely wish you success with the project follow-up.” The files on my computer were the initial, first-generation versions, with zero connection to the project’s actual core logic. A simple analysis report wouldn’t show the difference yet. But if she continued to use those files… The real show was just about to begin. 4 Under Piper’s lead, the project, supported by the foundational work and framework she had essentially stolen from me, continued smoothly for a while. This convinced Graham that he no longer needed me. The few remaining legacy clients still under my management were forcibly transferred to other colleagues under the guise of “unified management.” He began chipping away at me in public forums, his passive-aggressive hostility palpable. During the morning huddle, he’d randomly call me out: “Bella, I looked at your workload statistics for the month. It’s almost blank! We don’t pay people to sit around. Show some initiative!” If he walked past my desk and saw me browsing industry news, he’d sneer: “Well, look at you, so relaxed. Found a new job, have we? If so, pack up and leave. Don’t occupy a valuable seat.” He even had HR send an email, citing an “office space optimization” initiative, demanding I move my desk to a desolate corner by the breakroom, a space that never saw sunlight. I didn’t protest. I quietly packed my things and moved. I took every petty obstacle he threw at me, waiting. Graham, however, finally lost his patience and decided to force the issue. He called me into his office, getting straight to the point. “Bella, let’s be adults about this.” He leaned back in his CEO chair, looking down on me. “Everyone sees your recent behavior—the slacking, the zero work ethic. It’s severely damaging the team morale and the company culture.” I played dumb. “Graham, I don’t understand. When did I start slacking off?” He scoffed. “Still denying it? You clock in and out exactly on time, you refuse new assignments, you’re not communicating with your old clients, and you spend your day playing solitaire or browsing the web! What else would you call it?” “You misunderstand, Graham.” My tone was sincere. “I don’t dare answer client calls easily, for fear of saying the wrong thing; I don’t dare take on complex projects, for fear of miscalculating costs; and I certainly don’t dare work overtime, for fear of consuming more company resources and causing an even greater loss.” “I am strictly adhering to your explicit instructions to mitigate risk and avoid creating any new, actual losses for the company.” He pointed at me, sputtered for a full minute, and could not land a single syllable. Graham just wanted me to quit so he wouldn’t have to pay my severance package. I cut to the chase. “Graham, you just don’t want to pay the N+1, do you?” “That is slander!” He raised his voice, volume hiding his guilt. “The company adheres to policy! You have an attitude problem, you’re not keeping up with the company’s trajectory!” I looked at his flustered, paper-tiger expression and simply found it pitiful. Using the smallest possible cost to resolve the biggest headache—that was his guiding principle. I decided not to argue over the severance money. It was beneath me. I was simply waiting for the grand drama I had set in motion. I said lightly, “I’ll resign. In the next two days.” Two days. That was enough. Enough time for the stolen, outdated analysis report to detonate all the hidden issues during the truly critical project testing phase. Graham’s face lit up with satisfied triumph. He clearly assumed I was folding under the pressure, giving up the fight. “Hmph,” he grunted through his nose. “Smart move.” He waved his hand, dismissing me like a bothersome fly. “Process your paperwork quickly. Don’t drag it out and disrupt the others.” “Will do.” I turned and left his office. The project entered its most crucial testing phase right on schedule. On the morning of the test, the documentation described logic and data that were fundamentally inconsistent with the actual system. A critical, fatal flaw. The entire project team went into a panic. Mr. Thompson’s acceptance team was already en route. If we couldn’t demonstrate today, the partnership would be over, and the company would face massive breach of contract penalties. Graham roared, “Piper Wells! What the hell is going on? These reports, these proposals—didn’t you prepare them?” Piper flinched, tears instantly welling up. “T-these foundational reports and core modules were all done by Bella! I, I just built the follow-up work on her basis!” He bellowed toward the door, “Bella! Get her in here!” “No need to call, Graham.” I walked in, holding a slim folder. He lunged toward me. “Bella, quick! What’s wrong with this? Fix it, Thompson’s team is almost here!” I held up a hand, looking perfectly innocent. “Graham, I’m afraid I can’t. I just finalized my separation paperwork. I’m no longer an employee of this company.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389120”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend tried to drag me into a suicide pact. Not only did I refuse to die with him, but I also held his head underwater until he drowned. Forty years ago, our love was rejected by society, so he asked me to jump into the river with him. In my past life, Ethan Cole died, but I was saved. I lived a life of guilt and pain, sacrificing everything to support his parents and younger brother. But forty years later, as I lay dying, crippled and in agony… I saw the supposedly dead Ethan Cole alive and well, walking hand-in-hand with an elegant, intellectual woman. “One fake death and you spun in circles for a lifetime. Did a stupid woman like you really think I could love her?” “But thanks anyway. If you hadn’t supported my family, I wouldn’t have had the peace of mind to study for college, nor the chance to live happily ever after with my Bella.” “Oh right, actually, little Timmy isn’t my brother. He’s mine and Bella’s son! We had him long before I met you!” They kissed passionately in front of me, and I breathed my last breath filled with overwhelming hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was back forty years ago, on the day Ethan dragged me to commit suicide. “May! See you in the next life!” The familiar voice rang in my ears, accompanied by the freezing river water. Before I could even react, the man in front of me jumped in with a splash. Looking at his face, anger instantly flared in my heart. It was Ethan Cole! How did he suddenly become so young? And this river—wasn’t this the river where he dragged me to die forty years ago? Was I reborn? I didn’t have time to think. I walked straight towards him. Since you like playing dead so much, play dead for the rest of your life! As he submerged his head into the water, I whispered in his ear. “Her name is Bella Stone, right?” His body trembled violently, trying to lift his head out of the water, but I had already pressed his head firmly down. I was a rough village woman, uneducated but strong from farm work. Ethan was an intellectual, always buried in books, thin as a rail. He was no match for me. He struggled in the water, his body tensing from the pain of suffocation. “Timmy isn’t your brother at all, he’s your and Bella’s son, isn’t he? Did you take me for a fool?” “Don’t worry, I won’t support your parents or your son. As for your lover, I’ll make her pay!” “And you, just go in peace!” By the end, my tone became frantic and trembling, the joy of revenge filling my entire being. Only when Ethan stopped moving completely did I let go. Before fear could set in, I plunged my head into the water. Even though I choked and felt like collapsing, I couldn’t surface for a moment. I couldn’t let passersby notice anything strange. Only when my consciousness was about to fade did I hear the cry for help from the shore. “Help! Someone jumped into the river!” 2 When I was resuscitated, I was slapped hard across the face. It was Ethan’s mother, Helen, glaring at me with fury. Behind her was a large coffin. “You animal, you killed my son! How cruel can you be!” Then, she and her husband, George, started kicking and punching me. If someone hadn’t stopped them, my weak body might have been beaten to death. “Where is Ethan? How is he?” I pretended to be anxious, asking the obvious. “Ethan is dead! Are you happy now!” Helen spat at me, but she couldn’t hide the smugness in her eyes. It seemed she didn’t know her son was actually dead. “You bitch, how do you have the face to live in this world? Crawl over here and kowtow to Ethan!” Then, Helen and George pinned me down in front of the coffin, smashing my face into the ground as if venting their anger, nearly breaking my nose. Fortunately, the village chief intervened just in time to save my nose. “What is wrong with you young people? Always seeking death. Now look, such a good young man, an intellectual too, gone just like that.” “May, since you survived, you must carry on Ethan’s will. Don’t do anything foolish again!” The village chief said regretfully. Meanwhile, Helen knelt aside, wailing loudly. “My poor son, you’re gone, how will your father, your brother, and I live? May, if you have any conscience, you will be filial to us in Ethan’s place. Hand over all your wages from now on!” “And sell all the valuable things in your house quickly. I remember your mother left you a jade bracelet?” As Helen cried, her greed became unconcealable. Already eyeing my heirloom? I glanced at her coldly, walked straight to the coffin, and opened the lid a crack. Inside, Ethan’s face was gray, lips purple. There was no coming back from that. Since that was the case, I was relieved. Thinking this, I threw myself onto the coffin and wailed heartbreakingly. “Ethan! It’s all my fault! I killed you!” Hearing my words, Helen almost laughed, saying shamelessly: “Don’t think I’ll accept you as a daughter-in-law just because you act like this. You? A stupid village woman, not even fit to be a maid for my Ethan! But, if you are obedient and serve us well, maybe I’ll show mercy and give you a title!” Looking at Helen’s face, I resisted the urge to slap her and nodded tearfully. “Don’t worry, I will. But before Ethan is buried, I have one request.” I looked at the village chief and said firmly. “Ethan only wanted to contribute to the country in his life. His thinking was advanced, he pursued progress, and responded to all calls. So I think we should cremate Ethan!” 3 “Good, good! Truly a young person with new ideas! I’ll arrange it!” the village chief said excitedly. In the 80s, although cremation was becoming common, it was still taboo in our mountain village. So the village chief was gratified by my “big picture” thinking. But Helen wouldn’t have it. They knew their precious son was just tricking me and wasn’t dead! So, they rushed forward to protect the coffin, cursing at me. “You bitch, you have bad intentions! You want to burn him when he’s dead? Ethan, you were confused! How did you fall for such a demon!” I made a wronged face and said pitifully: “I just want to fulfill Ethan’s wish.” The village chief also persuaded: “Exactly. I’ve told you before, burial harms the environment, cremation contributes to society. Ethan would agree in the afterlife.” Helen firmly refused, rolling on the ground throwing a tantrum. “No! I don’t care! No cremation! Whoever burns my son, I’ll burn them!” Seeing this, the village chief had to give up, viewing Helen as just a pitiful, superstitious old woman wanting to keep her son’s body intact. Just then, a graceful figure walked over. “Sister May, I know your intentions are good, but have you considered Ethan’s parents’ feelings? Don’t be so heartless.” I looked closely. Wasn’t this Bella Stone? In my past life, we were just acquaintances in the village. After Ethan’s fake death, she left too. I never thought she and Ethan had a history. She looked just like the woman I saw by Ethan’s deathbed in my past life. She enjoyed all the good days that belonged to me! Thinking of this, anger surged. Suddenly, a small child rushed up, punching and kicking me. “Bitch! Whore! You want to burn my brother! I’ll kill you!” It was Timmy! Foul-mouthed and disrespectful. In my past life, filled with guilt toward their family, I tolerated Timmy’s rudeness, sent him money tirelessly, and cared for him. Since he’s an ungrateful wolf, I don’t need to pretend to be gentle in this life. “Tsk, no manners, needs a beating!” I slapped him hard. 4 The slap stunned Timmy. He stood there covering his face, bewildered. Helen and Bella screamed, rushing to check on Timmy, eyes full of heartache. “You shrew, hitting a child? Are you human?” Helen shouted at me. “A child with such a dirty mouth deserves a beating! Since I’m taking care of him for Ethan, I must discipline him strictly, or what if he grows up to be a hooligan or a rapist?” I said calmly. As expected, Bella trembled with anger and retorted: “Your son will be the rapist! Timmy doesn’t need you to manage him!” She realized her mistake and shut up immediately. I looked at her sideways and asked slowly: “Oh, Sister Bella, why are you, an outsider, so concerned about our family affairs? Timmy doesn’t need me to manage him, meaning you will?” Bella blushed, stammering for a moment before saying: “I… I just can’t stand your shrewish ways. No wonder Ethan disliked you…” “Oh, you know a lot about us. Tsk, you two didn’t…?” I asked with feigned surprise. “You’re spitting blood! A shrew like you, any man would dislike you!” Bella looked uncomfortable, guilt evident in her eyes. “Since that’s the case, I won’t care anymore. Chief, please find a good family to send this child to.” Helen and Bella gasped again. Helen almost blurted out the truth. “Are you crazy? Where are you sending my grand… son?” “Look, you two are old and weak, unable to raise this child. I can’t afford to raise him either. Better to find him a good home, at least he won’t starve.” “Don’t worry, when I make money, I’ll bring Timmy back!” I promised, patting my chest. Bella was trembling with rage, pointing at my nose. “How cruel can you be? Timmy lost his brother, and now you want him to lose his parents too? It’s just raising a child, you can work three jobs!” “Oh? Since you say it so easily, Sister Bella, why don’t you work three jobs to raise him?” I patted her shoulder and laughed. “I… I… this is clearly your responsibility!” Bella raged. The village chief stepped in to smooth things over again. “Bella is still young and needs to marry in the future. How can she drag a child along?” Hearing this, I immediately followed up. “Exactly! I need to marry in the future too. Dragging a child is inconvenient. Let’s do as I said.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389137”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I spent six years by the side of the city’s most dangerous crime lord. But on my birthday, he brought another girl home. He was covered in blood, and the trembling, doe-eyed girl was tucked safely in his arms. From that night on, the man who used to indulge my every whim never looked at me again. Everyone thought I was heartbroken, devastated by unrequited love for Silas Vane. I just smiled and adjusted the watch on my wrist. I am an undercover agent planted inside the largest crime syndicate on the West Coast. I lurked by his side for all these years for one reason: to see him rot in a federal prison. So, how could I possibly… fall in love with him? Chapter 1 It was late, but the villa was ablaze with lights. I sat on the sofa, relighting the candles on the cake for the third time. “Ria, don’t wait anymore,” one of the guys muttered. “The Boss said he isn’t coming.” I flicked my lighter. The flame danced and died. I stared at the wick. “If he doesn’t come back, I’ll keep waiting,” I said softly. “He promised to spend every birthday with me. Breaking a promise? That’s not his style.” The clock on the wall ticked past 3:00 AM. He wasn’t coming. I sat there with a room full of thugs and henchmen. To the outside world, I was the loyal girlfriend waiting for her man. To them, it probably looked like I was marshalling troops for a war. Finally, one second before the clock struck 4:00 AM, the roar of a V12 engine shattered the silence outside. “Ria! Boss is back!” someone shouted from the hallway. I stood up and looked down from the landing. Yes, he was back. I frowned, looking down at the man who was staring up at me with an unreadable expression. “Silas,” I called out cold. “Who is the girl in your arms?” Chapter 2 Silas Vane had a scar running from his brow to his cheekbone. Right now, that old scar was fresh again, oozing crimson. It added a savage edge to his usually sophisticated, handsome face. I pressed a piece of gauze to his wound. He caught my wrist. “Ria, have I spoiled you too much over the years?” His fingers traced the inside of my wrist, a gentle touch masking a lethal threat. I lowered my eyes. “Spoiled? hardly.” He chuckled, his thumb pressing lazily against my pulse point. “Is that so? Calling all these men to my house… strangers might think I’m running a gang.” He was running a gang. He had climbed from the gutter to the throne over a mountain of corpses. Now, he was “washing his hands,” posing as a young entrepreneur. The newspapers called him a visionary. It made me sick. “Who is the girl?” I pulled my hand away, changing the subject. He relaxed his brow but looked away. “None of your business.” He took the gauze from me, leaned in, and kissed the corner of my lips. “You have the energy to worry about my women…” “But no energy to ask how I got hurt?” He bit my neck, a sharp, punishing nip. “I raised you for nothing.” Chapter 3 The wind in Port Haven was brutal these days. Or maybe it was just this abandoned construction site, open to the elements. I could hear the sounds of a beating nearby. Sev handed me a cigarette. I pushed it away. “Silas doesn’t like me smoking.” … “Look into the girl Silas brought home last night,” I told Sev. Sev was ranked seventh in the hierarchy. He’d followed me since I entered the organization. “Ria… sigh,” Sev shook his head. “You’re the smartest woman I know. You should know that love isn’t for people like us.” He stood beside me, looking out at the wasteland. “We all have blood on our hands. The Boss is going legit now. He won’t marry someone like us—someone who knows where the bodies are buried.” “We took the fall for him, sure. He’ll take care of us financially, but a title? A marriage? Never.” Yes, Silas trusted me because I had blood on my hands for him. I had killed my own morality to get here. Sometimes, looking in the mirror, I felt like a ghost. I was a nail driven deep into dark wood. A fuse burning for thirteen years. “Let’s go,” I said, turning away from the screams. “Time to meet the new Princess.” Chapter 4 Unlike the construction site, Silas’s private villa was peaceful. As soon as I walked in, I saw her. A girl with braided hair, reading a book on the sofa. She jumped when she saw me. “You…” She looked away, shy and fearful. “Are you the Boss’s wife?” I sat next to her. “No.” “Oh…” She shrank into the corner. “I thought only someone as beautiful as you could match Mr. Vane.” She had that innocent, deer-in-the-headlights look. Another girl fooled by Silas’s charm. Just as I reached out to pat her head, a voice stopped me. “Ria, Boss said you can’t touch Miss Lily.” A bodyguard blocked me. If he didn’t respect my rank, he would have thrown me out. “Please don’t come here anymore. This is Miss Lily’s house now.” The girl trembled in fear. “Fine. I’m leaving.” Silas had had many women, but he’d never protected one like this. Chapter 5 “Ria, this is all we could find.” In the car, Sev handed me a file. The girl’s name was Lily. Three years younger than Silas. She grew up in the same foster home system as him. Her record was clean. A perfect greenhouse flower. “The Boss treats her… differently,” Sev whispered. She was his ‘White Moonlight’—the one pure thing in his dark world. I bit my nail. Silas had no weaknesses. He had clawed his way up from nothing. He was younger than me in the organization, but infinitely more ruthless. My thoughts were interrupted by Sev. “Boss said… he wants you to cook for him.” I smiled bitterly. “Turn the car around. To the market.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388876”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My voice, naturally high and soft—what everyone called a “baby voice”—was apparently a crime. The campus queen, Delilah, didn’t just call it “fake” or “putting on an act”; she weaponized it, using it to freeze me out. I ran to Lucas, my best friend since kindergarten, crying until my face was blotchy. He didn’t rush to my side. He simply lifted his chin, glanced past me toward Delilah, and the distance between us stretched out, cold and immediate. “Delilah isn’t wrong, Avery,” he said, his voice flat. “Maybe you should stop asking me out for a while.” I froze, staring at him, the tears instantly drying on my cheeks in disbelief. Later. Backstage at the All-Campus Vocal Showcase, the guy everyone called the “Campus King of Chaos,” Jax, cornered me. By the time I could breathe, my carefully applied stage makeup was smeared with tears from a frantic, punishing kiss. That’s when Lucas hammered the door open. His eyes were pure crimson rage. He launched himself across the room, his fist driving toward the boy holding me: “Get your damn hands off her!” 1 I walked into our large History of American Culture lecture and slid into the empty seat next to Lucas. Before I could even open my notebook, a tall, striking girl holding a stack of books approached. She wore a pristine pleated skirt. She stopped in front of me, glanced at Lucas, then gave me a soft, wounded look. “Excuse me, but this is my seat.” I frowned. “It’s a public lecture, seats are first-come, first-served. There’s an empty spot at the back row.” A light breeze from the vent stirred her hair. She bit her lip, her eyes suddenly welling up. She turned to Lucas. “Lucas…” The classic distressed damsel move. I’d seen it a million times. I ignored her, pulling my books and laptop out of my bag. Not only was Lucas and I practically attached at the hip since kindergarten, but he had always, always backed me up. He had never once crossed me for anyone else. Even if I were a stranger, why should I be forced to move for someone who came late? In college, seating rules were simple: Possession is nine-tenths of the law. But then, a long, lean hand tapped sharply on my desk. I looked over. Lucas was giving me a mildly exasperated, almost apologetic half-smile. “This is the spot I saved for Delilah, Ave. You should probably move.” The shock was physical. I stared at him. In a petty fit of defiance, I upended my backpack, scattering my books and pens across the desktop. “I got here first! I’m staying put right here.” Delilah’s voice immediately cracked with a sob. “Just because you have that voice, Avery, and can turn on the coy act, doesn’t mean you can steal someone’s spot and be a bully, does it?” The all people in the entire lecture room went silent under her accusation. All eyes, including the professor’s, swiveled toward our corner. 2 Delilah was the campus’s reigning beauty queen—the “angelic” type, all white skin and delicate, pointy features. When she looked upset, she truly resembled a distressed fawn. Suddenly, a chorus of male voices from the crowd began to protect her. “Avery, that’s too much. Are you just picking on the easier target?” “This is why I hate that childhood-friend stuff. They use that history to team up and intimidate people.” “Lucas seems fine, he’s usually a gentle guy, but his childhood friend… seriously, that voice is so affected. Does she actually think pretending to be cute makes everyone side with her?” The noise level was too high. Our Professor, Dr. Hill, a man known for his sharp patience, walked down from the podium, his expression cold. “What’s going on here? We’re about to start class.” A student chimed in instantly. “Professor, Avery here tried to steal Delilah’s reserved seat and is being totally unreasonable about it!” I opened my mouth to explain, but Dr. Hill’s steely gaze cut me short. He looked to Lucas. “Is that true?” Lucas was the class representative, always level-headed. The Professor was right to trust his version of events. I turned to Lucas, pleading silently with my eyes for him to set the record straight. He barely glanced at me. Then, he simply nodded. “Avery didn’t want to sit near Jax, Professor. She took Delilah’s spot.” I shot up out of my seat. “That is a lie!” “Enough! Seats aren’t assigned in this class, and there’s no such thing as choosing who you want to sit with. Young lady, if you want a good spot, come early next time. Class is starting immediately. Sit in the back or step outside!” The professor slammed his hand on the podium, sending me a look of profound disappointment. “Avery, you’re usually so engaged in class. I didn’t expect this kind of petty behavior from you.” I genuinely loved this course, American History. I always came early, pre-read the chapters, and fought for every chance to contribute. Being misunderstood by a professor I admired felt like a betrayal twice over. As he walked away, I wanted to charge up there, he can check the surveillance feed in need. But all the words caught in my throat, swallowed whole by the sharp, ringing sound of the tardy bell. I sank back down, defeated. 3 The only empty seat was in the very back row, next to a guy who had his face covered with a denim jacket. Jax, the campus legend. The hardest person to cross on campus. Rumor had it his family had just donated an entire wing to the university library, and the time he’d gotten into a fight with a tutor, the President had practically walked him out of the office personally. I sat down tentatively, trying to be silent, terrified of waking him. My phone, resting on the desk, suddenly vibrated twice. I clamped my hand down on it. Jax lifted his head from under the jacket. His narrow, dark eyes, sharp as a predator’s, were staring coldly at me. A chill ran down my spine. I immediately offered a submissive whisper. “S-sorry.” His gaze remained fixed on my face. Just as I braced myself to be yelled at, Jax simply dropped his head back down, pulling the jacket over his face again. I exhaled sharply. I checked my phone. Several unread texts. Lucas: [Ave, I didn’t mean to side with Delilah back there.] [The thing is, she failed her last pop quiz, and she’s already used up all her participation points. If the Professor gets a bad impression of her now, she’ll definitely fail the class.] [Promise me you won’t go talk to the Professor after class? I’ll buy you the latest Pop Collectible Figure—the limited drop just happened, you’ve been dying for one, right?] [Don’t be mad at me, okay?] [Animated GIF: Calming an upset kitten] What struck me as cruelly ironic was Lucas’s profile picture: a simple stick-figure drawing of two cats—one blue, one pink, one large, one small. I had drawn them when I was ten and first learning to sketch. He had used it as his profile picture for nine years without fail. And now, using that profile picture, he was asking me to forgive him for letting another girl publicly humiliate me. My pencil tip snapped under the pressure of my grip. I took a deep, shaky breath and looked out the window. The sky outside was an angry smear of blood-red sunset, swallowing the last blue light. How could he ask me not to be angry, Lucas? How could anyone not be angry after that kind of public betrayal? 4 “Stop the waterworks. It’s a bad look.” The cold, low voice from beside me startled me. I quickly wiped my face, glaring at Jax. He was propped up now, messy dark hair falling lazily over his forehead, his button-down shirt worn carelessly unbuttoned at the neck. The sunset streamed through the window, tracing the sharp curve of his jaw and neck, hitting the desktop like a piece of sweet, golden amber. Honestly. Ignoring the whole terrifying reputation thing, Jax was impossibly good-looking. I must have been staring, because I quickly forced my expression back into tense neutrality, remembering his capacity for violence. “Tch. Looks like a scared kitten.” Jax scoffed dismissively.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388892”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband calls me a manipulative leech, but he has no idea: my “little brother” is actually the son I gave birth to when I was nineteen. … I looked at the divorce papers on the coffee table and at Nolan’s face, twisted with rage, and a strange calm washed over me. “Sierra, I’m finished! This marriage is over!” Nolan slammed the glass ashtray onto the hardwood floor. Shards scattered everywhere. A tiny sliver grazed my ankle, and a bead of blood surfaced, slowly growing. “Last month you Venmo’d your brother five hundred bucks for ‘living expenses,’ and this month you want to drop another three hundred on a pair of designer sneakers for him! Do you think I’m an ATM, Sierra? Huh? Is your brother handicapped? Are his parents dead? Why do you, his sister, have to play mother and provider?” I sat on the sofa, carefully dabbing the cut on my ankle. My voice was low, almost detached. “He’s my brother. He’s in high school. What’s wrong with him having nice shoes? Besides, that money was from my freelance writing gigs.” “Your money? You married me, your body is mine, and your money is shared marital property!” Nolan tore at the knot of his tie, spitting mad. “I’ve tolerated this long enough, Sierra. For three years of marriage, that brother of yours has been a parasite clinging to us. The paperwork is right there. We are getting a divorce today!” I finally looked up at him. This man. When he was chasing me, he swore he loved my generous heart, my commitment to family. Now, my generosity was ‘being naïve,’ and my commitment was ‘enabling a leech.’ The truth was, I knew the three-hundred-dollar sneakers were just an excuse. The real reason was his ‘understanding’ assistant, Jenna. “Fine. Let’s do it,” I said, wadding up the bloody tissue. “The condo is mine—I bought it before we were married. The car is yours. We split the savings fifty-fifty.” Nolan let out a cold, calculating laugh, his eyes sharp with greed. “Dream on! You’ve funneled at least twenty thousand to that brother of yours over the past three years. That’s marital funds and it’s coming out of your share! And sure, you bought the place, but I chipped in ten thousand for the renovation. The property value has tripled, so you owe me eighty thousand for the appreciation!” I couldn’t help but laugh back. It was real, genuine amusement. I genuinely hadn’t realized until this very moment how loudly Nolan’s mental abacus was clicking. The beads were practically hitting me in the face. “Nolan, draw the line somewhere. Leo… Leo’s situation is,” I paused, my heart twisting painfully in my chest, “you know it’s special.” “Special my ass! He’s just a spoiled kid!” Nolan sneered, his face full of disgust. “I’m telling you, you are signing those papers today, whether you want to or not! I’ve already called my parents and your own manipulative mother. We’re settling the score right now, face to face!” The doorbell rang the moment he finished speaking. When he opened the door, a small crowd filed in. Nolan’s parents, my mother, and… Jenna, clutching Nolan’s arm, wearing a wide-eyed, timid expression. Well. Everyone was here. This wasn’t a discussion about divorce; it felt more like a damn firing squad. The moment my mother saw the mess on the floor, she rushed over and slapped my arm. “You stupid girl! What did you do to make Nolan so angry this time? Didn’t I tell you to stop spending so much money on your brother? Why won’t you ever listen!” There she was. My mother. In her mind, if Nolan and I fought, I was always the one at fault. Because I was the sister with ‘baggage,’ and landing an ‘upstanding man’ like Nolan was a miracle. I rubbed my stinging arm and looked at her coolly. “Mom, is Leo your son, or mine?” My mother’s face went stiff, her eyes darting away before she quickly raised her voice. “What kind of nonsense is that? He’s your little brother! A big sister is like a mother. If you don’t take care of him, who will?” A big sister is like a mother. I chewed on the phrase, finding it utterly, sickeningly ironic. I was nineteen. Pregnant and unmarried. The man vanished without a trace. I’d wanted an abortion, but the doctor warned me my body was unusual—terminating the pregnancy could mean I’d never conceive again. So I kept him. To protect the family’s reputation, to save my father, a lifelong community college professor, from gossip, the newborn was immediately put on my parents’ birth certificate. My son became my ‘brother.’ Leo, Leo. I wasn’t just grieving the deadbeat father; I was grieving the shattered piece of my youth he took. Nolan put his arm around Jenna and walked over, looking self-righteously victimized. “Mother-in-law, I’m not being unreasonable. Sierra is just too much. Look at Jenna, she’s so mature, never spends money carelessly, and stays late to help me with work. And look at Sierra, constantly draining our account for her family.” Jenna, wearing a loose white sundress, subtly cradled her stomach. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “Sierra, please don’t blame Nolan. He’s just under so much stress. Honestly… if you just stop spending so much on your brother, Nolan is still willing to forgive you.” Forgive me? I stood up, my gaze sweeping over every face in the room. The greedy Nolan, the fake Jenna, my biased mother, and his two parents who just nodded along. “Nolan, did you forget who bailed you out last month when you gambled away ten thousand dollars of our savings on a penny stock and lost everything?” Nolan’s face flushed. “You… why bring that up now!” “And you, Jenna.” My eyes settled on her slightly protruding belly. “Three months along, right? That ‘business trip’ Nolan took you on to Cabo last month? The ocean-view suite was charged to my secondary credit card.” Jenna’s face instantly went white. She instinctively tried to hide behind Nolan. Nolan’s parents’ eyes lit up at the word ‘pregnant.’ Their stern expressions instantly melted into eager, affectionate concern for Jenna. My mother froze. She pointed a trembling finger at Nolan. “You… you cheated?” Nolan stopped pretending. He jutted his neck out. “So what if I did! Jenna is carrying the next heir to the Nolan name! Sierra couldn’t give me a child. Am I not allowed to find someone who can?” Couldn’t give me a child? I looked down at my own flat stomach. Three years ago, I was pregnant once. Nolan had just gotten a promotion, gotten blackout drunk celebrating, and pushed me in a drunken rage when he came home. I lost the baby. He had begged for my forgiveness on his knees at the hospital, swearing he’d make it up to me for the rest of his life. Now, it was his weapon. “Fine. Since we’ve laid everything bare.” I picked up the pen and quickly signed the divorce papers. “The divorce is on. But let me warn you, Nolan, you won’t take one penny more than you’re owed.” “That’s not up to you!” Nolan grabbed the papers, a triumphant smirk on his face. “Sierra, I hear your little brother got into some trouble at school recently. Put a kid in the hospital, didn’t he? Without a settlement, he’s getting expelled. If you agree to sign the condo over to me, I’ll loan you the cash to fix it.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. Leo got into a fight? Why didn’t I know? Just then, my phone rang. It was a video call request. The contact name: Little Trouble. That was my nickname for Leo. Nolan snatched the phone, instantly answered, put it on speaker, and mirrored the screen onto the living room’s large flat-screen TV. “Perfect! Let this spoiled brat hear it, too! He’s not getting another cent from me!” The TV screen flashed, connecting the call. The background wasn’t a high school dorm or a police station. It looked like… an incredibly luxurious corner office. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city’s most glittering downtown skyline glowed at night. Leo, wearing the expensive sneakers I’d just bought him, was sitting back in a leather club chair, his legs crossed, holding a limited-edition gaming console. He was only thirteen, but his features were already sharp. Those startling, intense eyes were an exact replica of the other man’s. “Sis?” Leo lifted his head lazily, a lollipop stick hanging from his mouth. “What took so long? I ran out of allowance. Send me eight hundred more. I need to buy a new skin.” Nolan’s anger spiked, hitting the ceiling. He jabbed a finger at the screen, unleashing a torrent of abuse. “Leo! You lowlife scum, you useless bastard! Your sister and I are getting divorced! Don’t you dare show your face around us again begging for money! And every dollar your sister gave you came from my account! You better spit it all back right now, or I’ll call the school and report you for fraud!” The living room fell into a deathly silence. My mother’s face was chalk-white. She tried to clap a hand over Nolan’s mouth, but he roughly shoved her away. On the other end, Leo froze. He slowly lowered the game console. The lazy indifference in his eyes was instantly replaced by a sharp, lethal glare. “What did you just call me?” “I called you a bastard! A blood-sucking parasite! What are you going to do about it?” Nolan was manic, screaming, as if years of resentment were finally being dumped onto a child. “Tell your trashy sister to take you and get out! The farther, the better!” Leo suddenly smiled. The smile was ice-cold, unsettling. He didn’t reply to Nolan. Instead, he turned his head and yelled out to someone off-camera: “Dad, some guy just called your son a bastard and your girl a tramp.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388909”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The night Ethan Carter accepted the Global Philanthropy Award, my doctor gave me an expiration date. My artificial heart was failing, and I was completely broke. On television, the dazzling host dared Ethan to call his biggest regret live on air. He dialed my number without hesitation. I answered, listening to Ethan’s voice, dropping an octave for the cameras: “Do you ever regret walking out on me for money, Chloe?” I glanced at the staggering medical bill on my lap and let out a weak laugh. “Ethan, you’re loaded. Loan me twenty grand, would you?” The line went dead. On the screen, Ethan looked into the camera, ice in his eyes. “No regrets left.” He didn’t know. Seven years ago, when his own heart was failing, I didn’t leave him. I gave him mine. As soon as the live stream ended, a notification pinged on my phone. Ethan had wired me twenty thousand dollars. I stared at the screen, a complicated knot tightening in my chest. I used the money to pay the immediate hospital fees. As I was leaving the billing department, I heard a familiar voice down the hall. Through the crack in a clinic door, I saw him. Seven years hadn’t left a mark on Ethan. He looked expensive, powerful. The only thing different was the person clinging to his arm. It wasn’t me anymore. He’d rushed straight from the black-tie gala without even changing, all because his new girlfriend had a minor stomach ache. I watched him solicitously wrap his arms around Serena Blake. I lowered my head, intending to slip away unseen, and quietly pulled the door shut. Ethan yanked the door open from the other side. I jumped, my eyes locking with his. His gaze swept over me, cold and biting as winter wind. “Long time no see. You weren’t going to say hello?” I looked at him. A thousand things rushed to my lips, but what came out was: “Ethan, loan me another thirty grand.” Ethan froze. The indifference in his eyes ignited into anger. He grabbed my wrist. “Seven years, Chloe, and that’s all you have to say to me?” His grip pressed against the dense cluster of needle marks on my arm, sending sharp currents of pain up my limb. I took a shallow breath. “Mr. Carter is so wealthy. If you don’t lend me the money, I’m worried Miss Blake might misunderstand the nature of our relationship.” Ethan looked genuinely taken aback, his eyes flashing with something complex. Before he could speak, Serena latched onto his arm, staking her claim. “Honey, is this your ex-wife?” Serena looked at me with practiced pity. “What can thirty thousand possibly do? Ethan spends fifty thousand just buying me a pair of shoes.” “It’s a pity you didn’t know what you had, Chloe. If you hadn’t heartlessly abandoned Ethan back then, I never would have met him.” I remained silent, my mind drifting back in time. Ethan and I met in college. We fell in love and spent five years building a life together. Back then, he wasn’t a billionaire entrepreneur. And my body wasn’t failing like it was now. We were two kids from the foster system who finally found family in each other. We worked ourselves to the bone trying to build a small future. Just as our careers were taking off, Ethan was diagnosed with severe heart failure. The treatments and the transplant list required a fortune. We drained every cent of our savings. To keep up with the medical bills, I worked multiple part-time jobs. I ate once a day, stretching every dollar until it snapped. I worked myself into the ground just to afford his meager medication. We even switched his meds to the cheapest generics available. But the call for a matching heart never came. I watched Ethan waste away, his vibrant energy turning into despair. Then, the doctor found me. He told me there was a match. The person whose heart matched Ethan’s perfectly… was me. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Ethan kissed Serena’s forehead, his eyes performing tenderness. “If she hadn’t been so cold-blooded, how would I have met my guardian angel?” he said, loud enough for me to hear. “That thirty-thousand-dollar bag you liked? I’ll buy it for you tonight. Pick something more expensive next time. Your husband can afford it.” Watching them, the phantom pain in my chest was sharper than the needles in my arm. I couldn’t breathe. I wrenched my hand free from Ethan’s grip. I didn’t want to be the prop they used to prove their love. As I turned to leave, Serena stuck out her foot. It was subtle, but intentional. “Oh no, Chloe, be careful!” I crashed to the floor. The medical papers I was holding scattered at Ethan’s feet. Ethan’s face tightened. He instinctively reached out a hand to help me. Serena grabbed his arm, gasping melodramatically. “What is this?” Ethan’s eyes were drawn to the papers on the linoleum. He picked one up, scanning it quickly. “Artificial Heart Replacement Protocol…” A flash of fury crossed his face. He threw the medical file into my face. “Chloe Vance. I didn’t think you’d stoop to using cheap props to scam me out of money.” “You really are exactly the same as seven years ago. Everything is about money. You only see dollar signs.” I pushed myself up, looking at his healthy, strong body. A faint smile touched my lips as I silently gathered the papers. “You know I love cash, Ethan. Why not lend me a little more?” Serena seemed moved to tears by her own performance, clinging to his solid arm. But when she looked at me, her eyes were full of mockery. “Honey, maybe it’s true?” she cooed. “Besides… if Chloe hadn’t left you, you wouldn’t have received that donor heart from that kind stranger! Shouldn’t we help her out?” Her words served their purpose: reminding Ethan that I had abandoned him for poverty. The hesitation in Ethan’s eyes froze over instantly. “The heart of a good person couldn’t save a heartless woman. She doesn’t deserve it.” Ethan pulled Serena away. She kept up the act of begging him, but as she glanced back over her shoulder, her smile was pure venom. I picked up the medical record, now covered in Serena’s dusty footprints. The mechanical pump in my chest gave a sudden, violent stutter that didn’t belong there. My vision blurred. Their retreating figures went out of focus. After a long moment, I wiped a trace of blood from the corner of my mouth and stared at the words “Artificial Heart Replacement.” My fingers traced the thick scar that had defined my chest for seven years. Ethan still didn’t know. The heart beating inside his chest was mine. Seven years ago, because a suitable donor couldn’t be found, Ethan was days away from death. Artificial heart technology wasn’t mature then. Theoretically, it could sustain life, but the risks were massive. When I found out I was a match, I signed the papers to give him my heart. I took the experimental artificial one. A seven-year lifespan, theoretically. To save money for his recovery, I chose the cheapest model. Since then, pain has been my constant companion. Coughing up blood and sudden, paralyzing weakness became my normal. Because I was perpetually broke, the surgery to upgrade the unit was postponed again and again. Now, the seven years were up. The machine in my chest delivered its seventh major jolt of pain today. I knew it was reaching its limit. I left the hospital and returned to my rented room. It was small, damp, and bitterly cold in the winter. In the summer, it was an oven. But it was cheap. Ethan and I used to live in a place just like this, dreaming up our future while sharing instant noodles. When I learned I was his match, I had to make him let me go. I pretended I was tired of being poor. I slapped divorce papers on the table. We had spent five years together. Through all the hardship, I had never complained once. He knew how much I loved him. He couldn’t believe I would leave when things got toughest. I knew he loved me to his core. If he knew the truth, he would never allow me to trade my life for his. To save him, I had to be cruel. I had to pretend I’d had enough. Enough of following him around, eating bitterness with no end in sight. Enough of cheap drugs, one meal a day, and drinking tap water to stave off hunger. I told him I was done with it all. I still remember that day. The boy who was so proud, who never feared hard work or pain, cried for the first time. He wept as he signed the divorce papers. And I signed the organ donation agreement. After the surgery, I took the blame and disappeared from his life, returning to the squalid rental life we used to share, waiting for the death I had chosen. I just never expected to see him again. Now, he was soaring high, living the life we had dreamed of. But I could never go back to him. Seeing him looking so vibrant on the news gave me a sour feeling in my gut, but also a strange sense of relief. My phone rang, snapping me out of the memory. It was the bank. They told me the previous transfer of $20,000 was a mistake by the sender. I had to return the funds immediately or face criminal charges for theft. I hung up, a bitter smile on my face. I didn’t even know what to say. I called my best friend, Harper, and begged her to find me a quick job so I could repay the debt. Ethan hated me so much. If he knew I needed to make installment payments on his mistake, he’d probably enjoy watching me work myself to death to pay him back. Because of the heart unit, I was constantly exhausted. Most jobs were physically impossible for me. I survived on sporadic freelance gigs. Harper knew my condition and pulled some strings to get me a job as a server at a high-end banquet. It paid five hundred dollars for the night. relatively easy work. When I put on the uniform and the required face mask to pass champagne trays, I realized too late whose event it was. Ethan was there. He wore a tailored suit that probably cost more than my life’s earnings. He radiated power. Serena looked stunning in a designer evening gown. They walked arm-in-arm, the golden couple, surrounded by sycophants. I took one look and immediately lowered my head. Ethan grabbed a glass from my tray without recognizing me. I was about to turn away when Serena’s voice cut through the air. “Watch what you’re doing, server! Are you blind? You spilled champagne on my gown!” I stopped. There was a tiny splash on the hem of her dress. I didn’t argue. I just kept my head down and reached for a napkin to dab at the spot. Ethan looked at me, his brow furrowing, his lips pressing into a thin line. Malice flared in Serena’s eyes. Without warning, she kicked me hard in the center of my chest. An explosion of agony ripped through me. The impact hit the artificial pump directly. I hit the floor, unable to stop a cry of pain escaping my lips. “Don’t touch me with your filthy hands! Security! Get her out of here!” Serena yelled, her face a mask of outrage, but she couldn’t hide the smirk. Although I was wearing a mask, the moment our eyes met during the fall, Ethan recognized me. His lips parted. A flicker of pain crossed his eyes, instantly replaced by scorching mockery. He raised a hand to stop security. He reached down and yanked the mask off my face. “Chloe Vance. You run into your ex-husband and don’t even say hello?” Serena pretended to just realize who I was, pulling me up with fake concern. “Chloe? Oh my god, it’s you! You’re Ethan’s ex-wife, how could you be working as a servant here?” The ballroom seemed to hit the mute button. Dead silence. Every eye was glued to me. Then, the whispers started. The ridicule. “Did you hear? That’s the ex-wife who dumped him for money when he was dying…” “Wow. Karma really is a bitch.” “Abandoning Mr. Carter to end up a waitress? She deserves it.” Someone threw a glass of red wine. It splashed across my face and chest. Then, it was open season. Wine splashed from all directions. Glasses shattered against the floor around me, shards bouncing off my legs. Dark red wine mixed with the bright blood from cuts on my shins, pooling on the marble floor. Obviously, these social climbers wanted to impress Ethan by punishing me. Blood trickled down my forehead. I couldn’t feel it. I just stood there, silent. Ethan watched me, his eyes completely cold. “Chloe. Why so quiet? Does speaking to me cost extra now?” He laughed darkly, and the surrounding crowd tittered along. “You came here as a server just to beg me for money, didn’t you? Fine. I’ll satisfy you.” He waved a hand, ordering staff to bring over a dozen bottles of incredibly expensive red wine. They were uncorked and lined up on a table. “I’ll give you thirty thousand dollars right now. But you have to drink every drop of these.” He threw a stack of cash onto the wine-soaked floor. It sat there, stark against the red puddle. Ethan’s face was a frozen mask. The entire ballroom watched with amusement, eager for the show. Since the artificial heart implant, my body had become unbelievably fragile. I couldn’t lift heavy objects. I couldn’t run. Even walking up stairs left me gasping. And alcohol… alcohol was poison. My doctor had warned me that even a small amount could cause the mechanical pump to seize. I looked up at the man I had saved. I forced the corners of my mouth up and finally spoke. “If I do this… I don’t have to pay back the twenty thousand either, right?” Ethan looked momentarily stunned. The ice in his eyes cracked, revealing blazing anger underneath. He ground his teeth. “Fine!” I smiled. I grabbed the first bottle and tilted it back, guzzling the wine. The rich liquid tasted like fire and acid. My body immediately tried to reject it. I gagged, barely keeping it down. I forced myself to swallow, then grabbed the second bottle. And the third. The crowd watched the freak show, jeering. Only Ethan’s face grew darker and darker. As I reached for another bottle, my hand shaking uncontrollably, Ethan couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed my wrist. “Chloe! Is money worth dying for?!” I looked into his bloodshot eyes. The world was swimming. I nodded. “You’re right. Without money… I will die.” He flung my hand away in disgust. “Fine! Then drink it! Drink until you drown in it!” My body felt like it was strapped to concrete blocks. The mechanical heart in my chest seemed to have stopped beating entirely. There was only a terrible, hollow silence inside my ribs. I smiled a weak, boozy smile, took a shallow breath, and lifted the bottle to my lips again. Ethan snapped. He slapped the bottle out of my hand, roaring like a wounded animal. “Enough!” My legs gave out. I collapsed into the puddle of wine and broken glass. Fine shards bit into my skin, dyeing the floor an even deeper red. Harper, having heard the commotion, burst through the crowd. She screamed in horror, sliding onto the floor to pull my bleeding body into her arms. She looked up at Ethan, tears streaming down her face, and yelled the truth he refused to hear. “She gave her heart to you, you idiot! She’s living on a cheap mechanical pump! She can’t drink alcohol—you’re killing her! Do you understand?! You are killing her!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388926”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel