Category: English

My husband bought his secretary an apartment. That apartment was built on the land where our first home, the one that got demolished, used to stand. From its window, you could look out and see the little bungalow where we first started our business. The day I had my car accident, he was with his secretary, celebrating her housewarming. I called him sixty-five times. All I got in return was: “Luna, I’m busy. Don’t bother me.” 1 I found out Alex was cheating because his secretary “accidentally” messaged me. Alex and I had matching profile pictures; she must have sent it to the wrong person. “Boss, how come your old lady didn’t bring you lunch today?” Alex had a sensitive stomach, so I went to his office every day at noon to bring him food. I’d kept up this habit for fifteen years. Our company had gone from that little bungalow to a towering high-rise. Every time I came to the office, he’d hug me and whisper his thanks: “Luna, marrying you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Two minutes passed. The message wasn’t deleted. Then she sent another: “Oh, I’m so sorry, Luna. Sent that to the wrong person. My bad.” It felt like a taunt. I stood downstairs from his office building, holding a thermos of hot chicken soup, feeling a chill creep over me. It was as if the past fifteen years were all a joke. Just then, Alex called: “Honey, I’m starving. Why haven’t you brought my lunch yet?” His voice was still so gentle. But my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. I frantically clicked on his secretary’s social media profile, searching for any clue, any trace. I didn’t have to look hard. Pinned at the top of her feed was a picture of a pair of hands holding a bouquet of roses. On the inner side of the fingers of one hand, the letters ‘LU’ were tattooed. The tattoo was faded, a bit blurry. I recognized Alex’s hand instantly. I tried to remember the last time he’d given me flowers. It must have been over ten years ago. 2 Alex came downstairs to find me. He slung an arm around my shoulder and took the thermos of soup. “Honey, your cooking is the best…” He didn’t finish. His gaze froze on my phone screen. The words caught in his throat. After a moment, he managed to croak out: “Lu, you’ve misunderstood.” “That was a company event. I gave flowers to all the employees.” I hadn’t even said anything, and he was already making excuses. He was clearly feeling guilty. I knew this secretary of his. In a way, we had a history. A few years ago, before I became a full-time homemaker, I was the HR manager at the company. She was a fresh college grad, very sweet, always smiling. Her resume was too thin; I hadn’t planned on keeping it. But Alex happened to come looking for me that day, saw her, and told me to give young people more chances. He said she reminded him of me when I was younger. Her name was Lucy. Even her name was similar to mine. Alex had those charming eyes that always seemed to hold a deep affection, no matter who he was looking at. Back then, the way he looked at Lucy and the way he looked at me – there was no difference. I was still lost in thought when a warm embrace enveloped me. Alex always hugged me when he wanted to comfort me. He whispered in my ear: “Honey, there’s really nothing between her and me.” “If you don’t trust me, don’t you trust our fifteen years together?” Fifteen years. From a twenty-year-old girl. To thirty-five, with wrinkles forming at the corners of my eyes. After my parents died unexpectedly, I dropped out of college and started the business with Alex. I taught myself accounting, HR, IT… For our work. I studied so hard I got severe conjunctivitis. All our business partners praised me, called me an iron lady in the workplace. But now, I didn’t have the courage to question our relationship. “Alex, can you honestly say you haven’t wronged me?” I asked him. Alex clumsily opened the thermos and started gulping down the chicken soup. Then he coughed, choking on it. “Cough… Honey, I really didn’t cheat. Believe me.” His way of showing affection was always a bit awkward. In that moment, I didn’t want to dig deeper. He repeatedly promised it wouldn’t happen again. He even called Lucy down to apologize to me in person. Lucy was thinner than when I’d last seen her a few years ago, wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses. She looked less like an office worker and more like a student. She apologized sincerely: “Luna, I was just joking around with someone else and accidentally sent it to you. Please don’t misunderstand.” She was so earnest. It made me look like I was the one being unreasonable. Standing on the street, I felt utterly alone. Suddenly, I didn’t love him anymore. Our marriage felt like a beautiful silk brocade. In that instant, it was suddenly crawling with maggots. For all these years, my life had revolved around another person. I didn’t know where I could go if I left him. I said to him gravely, “Alex, I’ll trust you this one time.” 3 My trust crumbled faster than I thought. That night, when I got home, I found a used lip gloss stick on the nightstand. A sheer watermelon pink, a color I would never touch. I didn’t cry. I just let out a short, sharp laugh. I felt ridiculous. Maybe it was time to end it. When Alex came home, I had already packed my bags. He had just loosened his tie when he saw me dressed in a sweatsuit. “Honey, where are you going?” He froze, his brow deeply furrowed. “Just going out to clear my head.” I smiled and greeted him. Like any other ordinary evening. He sensed something was wrong and blocked my way: “Honey, are you still mad about what happened today?” “Lucy’s young and doesn’t know any better. You don’t need to be so petty.” I looked at him seriously. In our marriage, I had always been the understanding and tolerant one. I always believed that unless it was a matter of fundamental choices, there was no need for us to fight. Later, I read in a psychology book. The real breakdown of a relationship isn’t arguing. It’s indifference. Maybe I hadn’t loved him for a long time. I just hadn’t realized it yet. “Alex, you brought her into our home. Why are you still pretending to be so devoted?” I pointed to the lip gloss on the nightstand, my voice mocking. Alex’s face darkened, and his hand instinctively went to his stomach. He always got stomach pains when he was nervous. It was his tell-tale sign of guilt. “After all these years, let’s at least give each other some dignity.” He didn’t speak. He gripped my shoulders, trying to snatch the suitcase from my hand. I couldn’t match a man’s strength. He pulled me back into the house. He left a bright red five-fingered mark on my arm. The air in the room still smelled faintly of chicken soup. I had made the soup at noon to his liking, waking up early to buy a fresh, organic chicken. I had lived this day-to-day life for so long. He finally lost his temper, shouting at me irritably: “Luna, that’s enough! Stop being unreasonable!” “Look at you, acting like a crazy woman! I give you all the money I earn, can’t you be a little more rational!” Was I the one in the wrong? I stared straight at him. Until he flinched. Rewind fifteen years. No, not even that long. Just five years ago, before I quit my job. He would never have said those five words to me: “that’s enough.” I smiled and pushed his hand away. “You slept with her in this bed, didn’t you? I’m tired, Alex.” His eyes were bloodshot. “Honey, I love you so much!” “Please… don’t leave me! I just had a moment of weakness. She looks so much like you when you were young. I just love you!” Such a noble-sounding love. I told him, “But I don’t love you anymore.” 4 I drove away from home. Alex’s car followed me the whole way. When I pulled over at the bungalow on the outskirts of town, he got out too. He’d worked all day and was exhausted, dizzy. “Honey, stop this nonsense. Where would you go if you left me?” “These past few years, apart from Lucy, I haven’t done anything to wrong you. Can’t you just cut me some slack?” I took a deep breath. I tried hard to control my emotions and said to him: “Alex, I am an independent person, not a pet you keep. Is that so hard to understand?” Hearing my words, he actually laughed. “Alright, honey, I promise I’ll fire Lucy tomorrow. You’ll always be the lady of this house.” Even at this point, he still thought I was just throwing a tantrum. Hopeless. Before I could say anything, his phone rang. He glanced at it and quickly silenced it. I knew. It was Lucy’s call. Seeing she couldn’t reach Alex, Lucy started messaging me on social media. I waved my phone at him. “Want to see this together?” Alex’s face was pale. He shook his head instinctively. I opened the chat. She hadn’t sent any text. Just over a dozen pictures. From a few years ago when she first joined the company, to becoming Alex’s secretary. Her, snuggled against Alex’s shoulder as he slept. Them, out shopping, Alex buying her a necklace. Documenting their happiness in photos. Alex’s charming eyes still looked so full of affection. Five years. Right under my nose, Alex had been cheating on me for five years. I pressed my hand to my chest. My heart was beating furiously beneath it. This heart, no longer young, was heaving under a tide of despair. Alex still loved me. He’d worry about me being in danger, tailing my car for half an hour in the dead of night. He loved Lucy too. His heart was broken in two, given to different people. I looked up. The sky was overcast; it looked like it was about to rain. Alex didn’t say anything, just took an umbrella from the car door and held it over my head. He was always so considerate. My phone pinged. It was from Lucy. She said: “Luna, I think we need to talk.” 5 In the diner, she sat across from me. The wife and the other woman, sitting together calmly. Quite a strange scene. She cried as she spoke to me: “Luna, I didn’t want to ruin your relationship. I just really like him.” Liking someone else’s husband? Not exactly a commendable habit. I looked at her, amused. “What do you like about him?” She hesitated for a moment, then spoke timidly. “The boss, he’s rich, and handsome. And actually, he’s a good person. Apart from me, he hasn’t been with anyone else.” Handsome and rich? I almost laughed out loud. I couldn’t help but remember when I first met Alex, years ago. He’d pulled several all-nighters trying to get his startup off the ground, looking disheveled, slumped over his desk. I made him congee, and he forgot to eat it even after it cooled. Finally, he was so tired he practically passed out into the bowl. Would Lucy like that version of him? She tried to persuade me: “Men, you know, they all like younger women. Luna, I’m not asking you to forgive me, and I don’t want to take anything from you. I’ll leave your lives. I just hope you can forgive the boss.” I shook my head and told her, “I’ve already prepared the divorce papers. I hope you and he can be happy.” Her eyes flickered. She bit her lower lip, as if wanting to say something. “Luna, I truly want the boss to be happy.” What had Alex done to deserve such devotion from a young girl like her? “I can feel that the boss still loves you.” “Luna, who in this life isn’t just settling, just getting by?” She had a look of someone facing death with resolve. Lucy really was a lot like me. From her features to her demeanor, even her love for Alex. So much like the me of years ago. I asked her, “So what are you planning to do? If you don’t work at Alex’s company anymore, where will you go?” She blushed: “Luna, I won’t hide it from you. The boss bought me an apartment. I can do some freelance projects on my own. I can manage to live alone in the future.” An apartment?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392477”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1: The Bitter Cold of New Year’s Eve I lay on the freezing operating table, hemorrhaging from my lower abdomen. The doctor asked if there were any family members I wished to contact. I dialed my mother’s number. “Mom… I had the baby…” “I think I’m dying… Can you come be with me?” “Liv, what the hell are you नाटकing now? Giving birth and you’re already acting like you’re at death’s door? How come you weren’t so scared when you were secretly getting those abortions before?” “But…” “Enough. If you’re going to die, die quickly. It’ll be a relief for everyone!” Later, as she wished, I really did die. But then, she lost her mind. … An excruciating pain shot through my lower abdomen. I lay all alone in the intensive care unit. “Enough. If you’re going to die, die quickly. It’ll be a relief for everyone!” My mother’s final words were like the last slash of a knife on someone being slowly tortured to death. Outside the window, snow fell heavily. The New Year’s fireworks were dazzling, and families gathered together, watching the countdown on their screens. On the brink of death, my soul slipped from my body, drifting on a faint consciousness towards where my mother was. I saw her at a New Year’s charity gala, sumptuously dressed, taking a call in a corner. This woman, Catherine, yelled into her phone and then hung up. Ah, that must have been the last call I made. Then, she quickly plastered on a perfect smile and returned to the center of the gala. “Sorry to keep you all. As the New Year arrives, I’m thrilled to announce that the number of underprivileged children sponsored by our Angel’s Wings Foundation has reached five figures!” After her speech, thunderous applause erupted from below the stage. The underprivileged children, sponsored by my mother, had tears in their eyes. They shouted one after another, “Mama Catherine! I love you!” “Mama Catherine, you’re my angel!” The air was filled with joyous laughter. The New Year’s bell chimed. I died. Died in a cold hospital room. Meanwhile, under the spotlight, my mother was laughing heartily, surrounded by the underprivileged children. It was a smile I, as her daughter, had strived my whole life to see but never had. A little girl shouted towards my mother: “Mama Catherine, it would be so wonderful to be your daughter!” Yeah, how wonderful for me. My soul looked at my corpse, covered in bruises and scars, and laughed coldly. A final tear slid from the corner of the eye of my already cold body. My last gaze, before dying, was towards the incubator in the distance in the hospital room. That was my daughter, my mother’s granddaughter. It was a stillborn baby, dead for a long time. That’s good, daughter. It’s good that you died. You don’t have to suffer in this unfortunate world like your mother did. My soul murmured to itself. My mother Catherine’s Angel’s Wings Foundation was quite famous in our city. For nearly a decade, it had been dedicated to helping underprivileged children from the rural parts of our city, enabling them to study, providing them with shelter, and even giving them the warmth of a home. She was known as a “great philanthropist,” a “living saint” by the city’s populace. To the underprivileged children, she was “Angel,” “Mama Catherine.” She could give selfless love to every child who needed it. But that didn’t include me. I was the one detested by the “angel.” Simply because half the blood flowing in my veins belonged to an alcoholic. 2: Your Angel, My Devil According to my grandma, when my mother was young, she too had been rebellious and made many mistakes. The biggest mistake was falling in love with my dad. When she met him, she fell for his handsome face and sweet talk. But it wasn’t until after she married him that she realized the other side of this man was an alcoholic who didn’t recognize anyone when he was drunk. She couldn’t stand his domestic abuse after he drank and asked for a divorce. But to keep my mother tied to him, my dad secretly replaced her birth control pills with vitamin tablets. And so, I was born into this world. After I was born, they finally divorced. The court awarded custody of me to my mother. But my mother didn’t like me, or rather, she detested me. She detested my sharp eyes and defined brows, so much like my father’s, to the point that seeing me reminded her of the days she had suffered. Ever since the divorce, she rarely cared for me. With the settlement money from my dad and her connections, she founded the Angel’s Wings Foundation and was never home. She never seemed to see me as her beloved daughter, but rather as a tool sent by my father to torment her, an instrument. So, naturally, she didn’t need to consider my feelings. So even when I started self-harming and even attempting suicide due to severe psychological issues, she didn’t care at all, and was even ashamed of it. I still remember that day. I was soaking in the bathtub, a cut on my arm gradually going numb. My consciousness, along with my blood, began to dissipate into the water. She came in. Vaguely, I thought an angel had come to save me. But the first thing this “angel” did was pull me out of the water and give me a resounding slap. “You dare to die? You owe me so much, and you still dare to die?!” “You coward! Why did I ever give birth to you!” “Get your ass to the hospital, now!” A few crisp bills were thrown in my face. I don’t know how thirteen-year-old me walked to the hospital alone that year. I know I was soaking wet, clutching my bleeding arm, still holding the few hundred bucks my mother had given me, walking endlessly, endlessly. Until I completely lost consciousness. And collapsed on the side of the road. Before completely losing consciousness, I heard the “wee-woo, wee-woo” of an ambulance. Before I died, I donated my corneas and other usable organs to my mother’s Angel’s Wings Foundation. She used to always say I owed her from birth, but I never knew what exactly I owed her. This way was good too. At least, by giving her back my body in the end, I probably didn’t owe her anything anymore. I still remember the disbelieving look in the eyes of the medical staff when I signed the organ donation agreement. “There are very few brave girls like you.” “Your family will surely be proud of you.” Would my mom be proud of me? That was something I didn’t even dare to dream about. When I was little, to win my mother’s affection, to make her proud, I studied desperately hard. My childhood had no video games, no cute dresses, no orange soda. Only countless, endless exams. Of course, getting straight A’s and being top of my class every time was natural. I used to always see classmates at the school gate who scored lower than me showing off their papers to their parents, even if they’d only improved a little. And those parents would often smile and pick them up, or hug and kiss them. That feeling of being cherished, of being protected, was what I yearned for. But whenever I ran to my mother with a perfect score, how I wished she could encourage me like other mothers, praise me, tell me: “You did great.” At least just hug me. But she never did. 3: Hailey “Liv, you get a perfect score and you have to come show off to me? You’re just like your father, a leopard can’t change its spots.” “You certainly inherited your father’s cunning mind. God knows if you cheated off someone or earned it yourself.” But when I slipped, even if I didn’t get first place just once, she would slap me right across the face. “You’ve been slacking off again! I never should have given birth to you! If it weren’t for your beast of a father, I wouldn’t have ended up with something like you!” “Liv, I’m telling you, you must study hard, study yourself to death, get into a top university, and then make money to support me well, understand! This is what you owe me by birth!” I owed my mother by birth; this was a phrase I had remembered since I was little. So when she brought her first sponsored child, Hailey, home, I didn’t dare say anything. My mother treated Hailey, or rather, she treated Hailey as her own daughter, while I seemed like someone who shouldn’t even exist. Everything I had, Hailey had. Things I never had, Hailey also had. Most importantly, she easily possessed what I had longed for my entire life but never obtained. My mother’s love. When my corneas and eardrums were sent to the Angel’s Wings Foundation, my mother was helping Hailey pick out a gift for her nineteenth birthday. “Mama Catherine, I want this big one…” Hailey pointed to the largest crystal necklace in the jewelry store display case, cooing and clinging to my mother’s arm. “Hailey! This is too expensive,” my mother said, feigning displeasure. “But you clearly said that if I got into college, you’d give me the best birthday present!” “But you’re still a scholarship student. If you wear this to school, your classmates will talk.” “Let them talk. I’m not Liv, falling apart over a little pressure and wanting to die.” Hailey’s face twisted into a sneer when she thought of me. Just then, my mother’s phone rang. Someone from the foundation told her a new batch of donated organs had arrived. After hanging up, my mother patted Hailey’s head. “Hailey, Mommy has to go. Take a cab home by yourself.” “But the gift…” Hailey pouted. My mother said to the salesclerk, “This one, wrap it up.” “Thank you, Mama Catherine!” Hailey jumped up excitedly. After my mother left, she immediately took out her latest iPhone and started taking pictures of the necklace, then posted them on her social media with a caption. “Nineteenth birthday! Spending it with my dearest Mama Catherine! P.S.: With such a wonderful Mama Catherine, what kind of trash person would she actually hate?” She might as well have named me directly. She had always liked to ostracize and mock me. Simply because I was her Mama Catherine’s biological daughter, in name. She had all of my mother’s love, so she naturally felt my existence was a mistake. She knew I had once wanted to end my life through suicide, so she often used it to ridicule me. “Liv, you might as well just die. Your death would be good for everyone, wouldn’t it?” That’s what she often said to me. This time was no exception. She sent me a private message, hoping to mock me with it. She knew Catherine never remembered my birthday, so I never had such a thing as a birthday gift. She waited a long time but didn’t get my reply. So she became agitated and sent another one. “Dead? Struck dumb? Or secretly wiping away tears?” She didn’t know that I had indeed died, just as she wished. But she didn’t know that even if I died, she couldn’t monopolize her Mama Catherine. Because I still remembered everything she had done to me. 4 She sent me a private message, hoping to mock me with it. She knew Catherine never remembered my birthday, so I never had such a thing as a birthday gift. She waited a long time but didn’t get my reply. So she became agitated and sent another one. “Dead? Struck dumb? Or secretly wiping away tears?” She didn’t know that I had indeed died, just as she wished. But she didn’t know that even if I died, she couldn’t monopolize her Mama Catherine. Because I still remembered everything she had done to me. When I was sixteen, something happened that I could never forget for the rest of my life. Yesterday, when my mother came home, she brought two cakes, one large and one small. The large one was for Hailey, and then, unexpectedly, she gave me one. Albeit the smaller one. I was overwhelmed by the unexpected gesture. Because this had never happened before. When my mother came home from work, she only ever brought snacks and gifts for Hailey. Ever since I attempted suicide at fourteen, my mother’s attitude towards me had become even colder; she practically treated me like a stranger. Because my actions had shamed her. Catherine, the founder of the Angel’s Wings charity, couldn’t even manage her own daughter, who had attempted suicide – such gossip made her feel extremely ashamed. So she simply claimed to the public that I wasn’t her biological daughter, just a little girl she had previously sponsored who had some mental issues and was slowly recovering with her help. That’s how she weathered that PR crisis. After that, she truly didn’t see me as her daughter, or even as a human being. She said if I wanted to die, I should wait until I was an adult, earned money to support her in her old age, and then die. I wasn’t qualified to die yet. But today was different. It seemed like things at work had gone smoothly, and she actually showed me some mercy and bought me a cake too. Hailey looked at me with eyes full of jealousy. Even me getting the smaller one wasn’t okay. I probably didn’t deserve to receive gifts at all. So, the next day, after evening study, on my way home, I was stopped by a group of thuggish-looking youths. “You Liv?” I nodded fearfully, looking around, and found that there was no one else on this road. “I’ll ask you again, are you Catherine’s daughter, Liv?” Before I could finish answering, they dragged me into a narrow alley. What followed was something I never wanted to recall for the rest of my life. I only remember screaming, shouting in extreme terror. At the end of the alley, a familiar figure seemed to appear. She seemed to be laughing, that “hee hee hee” laugh was so familiar. That night, my body, along with my heart, plunged into darkness. … After that, I told my mother. Unsurprisingly, what I got was another resounding slap. “Liv, you’re really something, aren’t you? Haven’t you embarrassed me enough!” My mother was so angry her hair was practically standing on end. Beside her, Hailey sneered: “Who knows if she was just messing around outside and then said she was forced. After all, for someone like her who doesn’t even care about her own life, nothing she does is surprising.” My mother told me she couldn’t afford this shame. If I dared to call the police, she would immediately sever our mother-daughter relationship. So, a month later, I was pregnant. This time, I was smarter; I didn’t tell my mother. Instead, using money I earned from a summer job, I found a private clinic and had an abortion. The cold touch of the speculum, and the excruciating pain of the D&C afterwards – even as a soul, the memory made me shiver. I thought I had hidden it well enough, but Hailey still found out. She told my mother, and my mother locked me in my room for a month. She said, “Don’t you just love messing around! Go ahead and mess around all you want in your room!” A month later, when I was let out of the room, the first thing my mother told me was: “Liv, stop your schooling. I’ve already arranged your marriage.” “After you turn eighteen, you’ll marry Sean, the real estate developer from this city.” … When my mother arrived at the Angel’s Wings Foundation headquarters, my retinas and other usable organs had already arrived. Several staff members looked solemn. “Ms. Catherine, you’re here.” “Yes. Are these organs usable? If so, keep them. We’ll hold a bid later and give them to the child who needs them most.” “Well, yes, but the donor also left a diary, saying it must be read by you to the recipient before the donation.” A staff member handed over my diary.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392499”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The moment the crash happened, my husband, Ryan, was thrown clear by the massive truck, just as he pushed me out of its path. He was rushed into surgery, but I calmly opened a game on my phone. A few minutes later, Ryan’s attending physician, Dr. Ava Hayes, rushed out, frantic. “Dr. Miller, your husband is brain-dead! You’re the only one who can help him, please, you have to come with me!” Her eyes were wide with desperation as she looked at me. After all, I was the only doctor in the entire state who had successfully treated a brain-dead patient. I kept my eyes fixed on the game, my voice flat. “He’s my spouse. Hospital policy prevents me from operating on immediate family.” My mother-in-law, Susan, fell to her knees before me, bowing her head repeatedly, pleading. “Alex, please, save Ryan! He was hit trying to save you!” I dodged her grasp, revealing my swollen right wrist, and offered a faint smile. “Unfortunately, I accidentally severed the tendons in my hand today. I can’t hold a scalpel.” Blood streamed down my right wrist, glaringly red. Ryan’s parents, David and Susan, immediately blanched. Susan’s face was ashen, her voice trembling. “Alex, you’re a doctor. How could you ‘accidentally’ cut your own tendons?” Her eyes were filled with suspicion. “Are you afraid of losing your job, so you just faked an injury with some fake blood to fool us?” It was a logical thought, I suppose. The hospital had a strict rule against operating on immediate family members. And my position at the State Hospital? I’d worked my fingers to the bone for years, studying relentlessly, just to get it. Meeting her suspicious gaze, I extended my right wrist towards her. A deep, bone-visible gash snaked across my wrist. It was a real wound, impossible to fake. Susan peered closely at it, then burst into tears. “You… you can’t do the surgery now. What will become of my son…?” “My poor, suffering boy, is he just meant to die now?” She wailed, pounding the ground with her hands, clearly on the verge of collapse. The deep bond between mother and son made passersby wince in sympathy. I merely smiled, my voice calm. “Then it must be Ryan’s fate. There’s nothing I can do.” Then I lowered my head, staring intently at my phone screen. The battle onscreen was raging. I controlled my hero, crouched in the tall grass, waiting for an opponent to walk by for an instant kill. My teammates, however, were proving useless. In the few minutes we’d been talking, our team had already fallen behind. I frowned, concentrating on the chaotic fight. Seeing my indifferent expression, Ryan’s father, David Mitchell, paled, his body swaying unsteadily. The usually quiet and honest man, desperate for his son’s life, had learned to humble himself. He wasn’t one for many words, but he simply fell to his knees before me with a thud. The middle-aged man bent a back that had never bowed in his life, his eyes red, stumbling over his words as he pleaded. “Al-Alex, please, I’m begging you. Go help Ryan!” “He’s your husband! You can’t just watch him die!” “Even if your hand is injured and you can’t hold a scalpel, maybe you could go in and advise them on what medication to use…” Almost all the onlookers couldn’t bear to watch, and a few younger women were already tearing up. Dr. Ava Hayes, Ryan’s attending physician, also frowned, looking at me with displeasure. “Dr. Miller, you’re the only doctor in our hospital with experience saving brain-dead patients.” “And for your own husband, is your job that important? Don’t you care about losing it?!” “Besides, he was hit trying to save you! Saving lives is our duty as doctors, and that’s your husband!” “Brain death has a ninety-nine percent mortality rate! Are you really going to disregard your own husband’s life just for your job?!” Hearing that terrifying mortality rate, Susan and David’s faces turned ashen, like death itself. Immediately, they both practically trembled as they kowtowed to me, begging me to go in and save Ryan. But I remained fixated on my phone screen. “DEFEAT!” 2 The game over notification blared on my phone. I glared at the exploding crystal on the screen, annoyed, and slammed my phone down. “This is all your fault, constantly yelling! This was my promotion match!” “Buzzing around my ears like flies, it’s so damn irritating.” David knelt by my legs, trembling, looking up at me with a pleading face. “Alex, just save Ryan, and we’ll give you whatever you want…” The onlookers, who had finally understood the situation, began to point and whisper about me, their expressions varied. A few older women even frowned, their gazes filled with disapproval. Before I could reply, a commotion erupted from inside the operating room. Then a young nurse rushed out, her face deathly pale. “Dr. Hayes, Dr. Hayes, the patient’s blood pressure just plummeted! He’s fading fast!” Her voice was shaking with tension. Dr. Ava Hayes glanced at her, a flicker of anxiety in her eyes, then turned back to me, her face grim. “Alex Miller, I’m asking you one last time. Are you sure you won’t go in and see him?” I remained silent. The wound on my right wrist, stretched by the movement, began to bleed again, a horrific crimson. Under Dr. Ava Hayes’s darkening, almost dripping gaze, I slowly but firmly nodded. Seeing this, David desperately grabbed at me, but Susan cut him off, wailing, “How can you be so heartless!” “Our Ryan dated you for seven years and never once looked down on your humble background!” “He’s handsome, well-educated, and countless girls chased him, but he only ever saw you, dead set on marrying you!” “From the moment you two started dating, everything you ate, everything you wore, wasn’t it my son who bought it for you?” “When you got married, you had no dowry, and your family was poor, but we didn’t look down on you.” “Even your tuition for your graduate and doctoral studies, it was all our Ryan who paid for it. Now he’s hanging by a thread, and you, you actually…” Susan’s words dripped with pain and sincerity, every single one from the bottom of her heart. By the end, she couldn’t hold back anymore and broke into wrenching sobs. The onlookers finally couldn’t take it anymore, stepping forward to criticize me vociferously. “Young lady, is a job really that important? You can always find another job, but you’ll regret losing a husband for the rest of your life!” “Exactly! He was so good to you, so devoted. You can’t be so ungrateful!” “This is about saving a life, and he was hit trying to save her! What is there to hesitate about?! I don’t get it!” “This woman is just too cold-hearted…” The murmurs from the crowd grew louder. I pressed my lips together, sitting on the bench without a word. I felt like an unyielding stone. Seeing my lack of reaction, David, on the verge of collapse, tugged at my pant leg, pleading bitterly. “Alex, what if… what if you go in and save him?” “As a thank you, we’ll transfer the house and car into your name…” At that, I finally lifted my eyes. Seeing my expression soften slightly, David was overjoyed, quickly patting his chest. “Alex, don’t worry, I promise I’ll do it! As long as you agree to save Ryan, I’ll give you the house, the car, and all our savings!” A commotion broke out in the waiting room. Everyone was moved by this display of paternal love. I looked down at David, silently calculating. The house, car, and savings under his name combined had to be worth several million. Buying my job back that way… it wasn’t a loss. But… I looked up again, softening my tone. “Alright, I can go in and save him, but…” Seeing me finally agree, David’s face lit up with joy, his eyes filled with hope. I drew out my words, slowly. “But you have to sign a contract with me first. What if you don’t keep your word later?” At my words, the smile on David’s face froze, as if in disbelief. Susan couldn’t hold back anymore, screaming excitedly. “Ryan’s condition is critical! Who has time to wait around for a contract?” “My poor, unfortunate son, how did you marry such an ungrateful wretch!” I spread my hands in a helpless gesture, my voice firm. “No contract, no surgery.” The onlookers began to clamor again, their words filled with accusations against me. A few hot-tempered individuals even looked ready to punch me out of sheer frustration. Just then, another nurse hurried out, her uniform stained with blood. Her voice was stunned, clearly terrified. “The patient just lost consciousness! Before he passed out, he told me to give you a message.” “He said not to make things difficult for Dr. Miller, because he knows how hard Dr. Miller worked to get this job.” 3 Hearing the news of Ryan losing consciousness, Susan immediately collapsed to the ground. Her face was deathly pale, trembling so hard she couldn’t speak. David’s eyes were red-rimmed with tears, and he hit his head against the ground a few more times, looking as if he might vomit blood. He squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth. “This is a matter of life and death. I swear I’ll give you everything, just please, can you…?” Looking at the two old people, so worn and distraught, I hesitated for a moment. My parents died young, and I never felt much family warmth growing up. After I started dating Ryan, he quickly introduced me to his parents. The Mitchells were kind, humble, and incredibly thoughtful. They never once looked down on me for my humble background, instead treating me like their own child. The year I was studying for my master’s, Ryan worried about me, so he and his parents would often bring me home-cooked meals. Four dishes and a soup, always a balanced mix of meat and vegetables. Susan even went out of her way to learn to cook my favorite dishes. They were kind and loving, genuinely good to me. When Ryan and I got married, I didn’t even have a job yet. I had no car, no house, and even my tuition for school was paid by the Mitchell family. At the wedding, some of Ryan’s relatives looked down on me, and a few distant cousins even made some sarcastic remarks. David and Susan immediately turned cold, announcing to everyone present, “Alex is a good child, and she is the daughter-in-law we, the Mitchell family, have chosen.” “From now on, anyone who says hurtful things about Alex need not set foot in our home.” At the time, I was young, insecure, and sensitive, and hearing those words moved me deeply. I swore then that I would be good to Ryan and to his parents for the rest of my life. I was grateful that they gave me a complete family, allowing me to experience a familial warmth I’d never known. And now… David and Susan, old and haggard, knelt before me, their eyes filled with desperate pleading. I silently lowered my gaze, unable to look anymore. A twisting pain shot through the wound on my right wrist. I felt like I was suffocating. Seeing the old couple kneeling and begging, Dr. Ava Hayes quickly moved to help them up. “Alex Miller, what are you doing? Not only are you refusing to save your husband, but you’re trying to steal these old people’s property too?” “For money and a job, you’d even abandon your conscience? You’re truly disgusting!” She shot me a glance, then declared loudly and righteously, “There’s no need to beg her! I, Dr. Ava Hayes, am willing to risk my job and reputation to do everything I can to save this patient, not only because I have a doctor’s sense of responsibility, but because I have a conscience!” At her declaration, the surrounding onlookers immediately burst into applause. They praised her as a model doctor. By contrast, I looked even more selfish and cold-hearted. Seeing this, I offered a faint smile. Ignoring the pain in my right wrist, I even started to clap. “Then I wish you luck.” Dr. Ava Hayes shot me a hateful glance, then turned and walked into the operating room. Not until her figure disappeared into the operating room and the door was closed by a nurse, did I slowly press my trembling hand to my wrist, cold sweat beading on my forehead. David and Susan had no time to worry about me. They helped each other up, scrambling to find money for Ryan’s treatment. The crowd gradually dispersed. My vision blurred, and my consciousness slowly faded… This marks the billing point.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392516”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Introduction: The recovery specialist lifted my long dress, carefully examining my still-recovering postpartum body. Then, pulling on gloves, he knelt between my legs. He asked if I needed my husband present because he was about to begin an internal exam… 1 Three months after giving birth, my figure had bounced back. Even better, actually. Thanks to breastfeeding, my curves were more pronounced. But because I’d had a vaginal birth, Mark, my husband, often complained that things weren’t as “exciting” as before. Lately, Mark had been coming home later and later. Several times when I woke up in the middle of the night to feed the baby, I’d hear him talking softly on the phone in his study. One night, after Mark was sound asleep, I opened his WeChat. I found that he had been frequently interacting with someone named Ashley, their messages so suggestive they made my cheeks burn. And worse, I discovered they were booking hotel rooms every Tuesday! I didn’t sleep a wink that night, constantly replaying things in my head. Mark going to a hotel with someone else had to be because of my body after childbirth. So I consulted several friends and finally found a highly recommended postpartum recovery specialist. The only awkward part was, he was a man. I cautiously sought Mark’s opinion. “I heard that after the recovery sessions, you get as ‘tight’ as a young woman. I want to try it.” Perhaps he was still feeling dissatisfied from earlier, because Mark didn’t give it much thought and told me to go ahead with the recovery. “Just wear your clothes. It’s just a massage, right?” I nodded, not daring to mention that some auxiliary instruments would also be needed. But I figured as long as I set my boundaries, it would be fine. The next day, when I met Ethan, the recovery specialist, I was secretly surprised. He was young and handsome, looking only around 28 or 29. Tall and lean, with features that looked almost sculpted. Thinking about having to be bare before him soon, a blush ofc shame raced through me. I led Ethan into the bedroom, deliberately leaving the door wide open. Even though Mark wasn’t home, there would be close physical contact soon, so it was better to be cautious. “Dr. Ethan, should I lie down?” I stood awkwardly by the bed, my heart thumping. Ethan smiled and nodded. “Not yet. I need to examine your pelvis first. Just stand as you are.” He crouched in front of me. I could feel the warmth of his breath. Suddenly, his large hands lifted, and he said he needed to do a more thorough physical examination. “Spread your legs a little wider.” I hesitated, but complied. “Is it deformed?” I asked anxiously. No sooner had I spoken than his examining hands moved further down my legs. I accidentally made a slight movement, feeling instantly embarrassed. Ethan noticed, but he seemed completely accustomed to it. “Don’t be nervous. Your pelvis is largely not deformed; a simple manipulation can realign it.” “Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’ll go change.” I nodded awkwardly, twisting my nightgown tightly in my hands. To be like this in front of a stranger – it was mortifying. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. “These reactions are normal. To me, you are just my patient,” Ethan said gently, motioning for me to lie on the bed. He naturally proceeded with the next step of the recovery work, but when he saw my thong, he visibly paused. He paused for a moment before beginning the actual pelvic realignment. Ethan’s hands moved back and forth, aiming for the best realignment effect. But having just given birth, I was incredibly sensitive. Even though I tried my best to control myself, my body subtly responded involuntarily. From Ethan’s angle, those embarrassing reactions must have been completely exposed. But Ethan simply continued his work diligently. As the recovery progressed, my legs were lifted, and the pressure on my lower abdomen gradually increased for better results. He said this would help the pelvis return to its pre-pregnancy state more effectively. “If it hurts, you can vocalize it,” Ethan said, signaling me to turn on my side, one hand on my thigh, the other pressing on my pelvis. “Ah!” I couldn’t hold back and let out a sound. The recovery continued, with more pressure points being massaged. My entire body and mind felt like they were screaming in frenzy. My body began to undergo wild, surging changes. Just as I was thinking about how I could have more, he ended the massage. “Alright, today’s realignment was very effective,” Ethan said, helping me up from the bed. But then, I noticed his lower abdomen was noticeably fuller. Although I had given birth, I was still undoubtedly an attractive woman. But thinking about my body still needing recovery, and Mark’s disappointed sigh whenever he was intimate with me, an instant wave of insecurity washed over me. “Ethan, can just massage restore me to how I was before giving birth?” I still held high hopes for him. Ethan thought for a moment, then took a white rectangular box from his toolkit. When he opened it, inside were various sizes of oval silicone spheres. “These are pelvic floor weights,” Ethan explained carefully. “They can help strengthen your pelvic floor muscles.” I felt a blush creep up my neck. “Which size should I start with?” “I can check for you,” Ethan offered, his voice gentle. He reached for a pair of gloves and pulled them on. “That way, we’ll know which size is best for you.” I understood immediately. My heart fluttered with an unexpected mix of anticipation and embarrassment. “However, this is an internal exam,” Ethan said, his gloved hands poised. “Do you need your husband present?” “N-no… no need,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. This was for a medical purpose, for my health. Why would Mark object? “Alright, just lie back down,” Ethan said, his gaze unwavering. He knelt beside the bed, preparing for the examination. “Will these things really help?” I asked, my face hot, my initial awkwardness now overshadowed by a strange curiosity. He studied me for a long moment, a flicker in his eyes before he composed himself. Then, he reached out, his gloved hand moving to begin the check. I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands clenching the sheets, wishing for it to be over quickly. “Your situation isn’t ideal,” Ethan stated, his voice a low hum. “I’ll try another tool to re-examine.” His hand withdrew, and a strange wave of disappointment washed over me. Then, something else made contact, something that felt… wrong. I snapped my eyes open, and oh god… PREMIUM CONTENT AHEAD Unlock the rest of this story for a deeper dive into Emily’s transformation. Ethan, in the end, couldn’t hold back. He crossed the line. And had I not, in my own way, crossed it too? My rational mind screamed that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing something like this. But I couldn’t help it; I found myself wanting to claim this strikingly handsome man for myself. I consciously pushed aside the gnawing guilt, immersing myself in the fleeting pleasure of the moment. When it was over, I gently brushed the stray hairs from his forehead. But then, the realization hit me like a physical blow. I was married, I had a child. What kind of delusion was this? And worse, I had just physically cheated! My cheeks, which had only just begun to cool, flushed crimson again. Mark might be critical, but he hadn’t actually done anything to directly betray me. And he had trusted me so completely, allowing me to be alone with a male postpartum specialist… I had betrayed that trust. The direction this plot had taken was something I’d never imagined. What was I supposed to do now? Ethan quickly got dressed, his breathing steady, saying nothing. “Are you leaving?” I asked, my voice thin. “Today’s session is complete.” He was perfectly calm, as if the intimacy we’d just shared had involved someone else entirely. My mind was a chaotic mess, but I nodded blankly. Perhaps it would be better to treat it as a regular therapy session, for neither of us to say another word about it? “When is the next one?” I couldn’t help but ask as Ethan reached for the door. “Once a week. I’ll come again next week at this time.” He glanced at me, then hurried out, leaving my confusion untouched. I couldn’t stop replaying the afternoon we’d spent together. This wasn’t just ordinary interaction; it was fundamentally different. I tried to rationalize it: who could refuse someone as attractive as Ethan in that situation? But truthfully, I also admitted that I was just as bad, as much a “player” as any guy who couldn’t resist a beautiful woman. I deserved to be condemned. “Let me see today’s results,” Mark said, pulling me into the bedroom later that night. I felt incredibly anxious, terrified he might notice something off. Afterwards, he frowned. My stomach clenched. “No real improvement.” Mark seemed merely disappointed, but seeing his expression, a fresh wave of resentment washed over me. “It takes a few sessions…” “Can we fix this while you’re at it? I remember, you didn’t have any extra weight on your stomach before.” Mark pointed to my abdomen. I looked down in surprise. For a woman only a few months postpartum, my stomach was remarkably flat – a figure many would envy. But Mark had probably been dissatisfied with it for a long time. Was that why his enthusiasm had been so low? Mark used to compliment me, but his standards had always been high. If I wore an outfit he didn’t approve of, he’d tell me to change before leaving the house. I covered my midsection with my hand, wanting to explain, but Mark was already snoring. Unable to sleep, I went to another room to do a plank. My mind drifted back to the afternoon with Ethan. Back then, I’d felt happy, satisfied. Part of me yearned for Ethan to come again, while another part dreaded new developments that could spiral out of control. It was a contradictory feeling, like being pricked by needles. The week that followed was undeniably agonizing. The doorbell rang precisely on time. I opened the door to see Ethan, dressed sharply in white, looking handsome and composed. But his expression gave no hint of what had transpired between us. I nervously clasped my hands, glancing at Ethan. He, however, followed his routine, preparing and then beginning the recovery work. My body was still sensitive, but as I subtly observed Ethan, I found him completely unmoved. From start to finish, he only did what was expected of him. To be honest, I felt a little disappointed. Did he, like Mark, find my body unsatisfying? “Last time, we…” I began, my voice trailing off. He seemed to stiffen, speeding up his packing of the equipment. Seeing his reaction, a flicker of anger ignited within me. I couldn’t help but challenge him. “You took advantage, and now you’re acting like nothing happened?” “What else do you want?” Ethan’s counter-question left me stunned. Indeed, what else did I want? Besides, I certainly didn’t want to talk about it. “Are you… dissatisfied with me?” Ethan paused, then seemed to grasp my meaning. “Last time was an accident. It was a lapse in my professional conduct, something I’d rather not discuss. It had nothing to do with you.” Hearing that, a wave of relief washed over me. At least it wasn’t because of my body that he was cold to me. “How’s my recovery progressing now?” Ethan said there had been improvements, but that I needed to combine the sessions with daily exercises. I nodded, asking if we could speed up the process. He thought for a moment, then said if I was willing, we could do two sessions a week. I agreed immediately. After Ethan left, I felt an emptiness inside. But the thought of him coming again in a few days brightened my mood. What was happening to me? My life must have been too boring. Then I remembered Mark’s comment about the “extra weight.” Ignoring the fact that I was still in postpartum recovery, I threw myself into exercise. But Mark’s scrutinizing gaze made me exceptionally miserable. “So, have things gotten any better recently?” “Still something missing.” He didn’t even look at me, answering offhandedly. Mark was called to work late, leaving me feeling down. I poured myself a glass of wine. I was trying so hard, so why was it still not enough? As I downed a few more glasses, these questions drifted away. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Ethan. We had an appointment for the next day, but he said something urgent had come up and he couldn’t make it. “If it’s convenient for you, I can come over now.” I was already tipsy, not ideal for a meeting with him, but I agreed on a whim. When Ethan walked in, he looked at me for a long time. I knew my face was flushed, and probably other parts of my skin too, from the alcohol. Ethan said nothing, simply put on his disposable gloves, as usual. As the session began, fueled by the wine, I stared intently at the handsome man before me. “Tell me the truth, what do you really think of me?” I poured out all my grievances about Mark’s dissatisfaction. “From your perspective, am I also really awful?” I asked with a bitter laugh. He remained silent until this point, then he looked up. “You are exceptional,” he said. I paused, almost believing his sincerity, but then chuckled, thanking him for the comfort. “It’s not comfort. Among all the people I’ve worked with, you are truly outstanding.” Given Ethan’s profession, he must have seen many women. I still didn’t quite believe him, asking him to confirm repeatedly. “If you’re telling the truth, then let’s do it again.” The wine had given me a reckless courage. I leaned tentatively towards him. He didn’t pull away, nor did he respond as I’d hoped. He simply continued the previous conversation. “You have everything, why would you lack confidence?” Ethan’s question offered me a moment of clarity, a chance to reflect on my life. When did I start losing my confidence? I had always been one of the prettiest girls in class, in school, praised since childhood. When did I start doubting myself, feeling insecure? It was probably after I got married. After marriage, I felt like I lost myself. This conclusion shocked me. I didn’t dare to dwell on it. “Given your background, why this job?” I recovered, changing the subject, voicing my confusion. He said my question sounded like I was looking down on his profession. I quickly explained I wasn’t, saying I was simply curious because many men wouldn’t choose this line of work. “It’s just a job. As long as it pays well.” True. Everyone who sought Ethan’s services paid top dollar. He made good money with his skills. Why would he care what others thought? Yet, I couldn’t help but ask if he truly adhered to his professional boundaries as strictly as he claimed. I told him that given the intimate nature of the contact, I would understand if he hadn’t. He didn’t even lift an eyelid, his hands still busy with the recovery work. He simply replied that he hadn’t before. “So, I’m an exception?” Ethan nodded. My heart pounded, and I felt a surge of pride, as if a long-lost confidence had been rediscovered. I saw Ethan out, then stood in front of the mirror for a long time, examining myself from every angle. I wasn’t that bad after all. Thinking this, my spirits felt unusually light. I cooked dinner, feeling genuinely happy. When Mark came home, he picked up his chopsticks and took a bite. I waited for his feedback on the meal, but nothing came. “How is it?” I couldn’t help but ask.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392536”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My face flushed, I leaned heavily against the counter at the school’s corner store, my legs trembling. From beneath the till, my math teacher, Mr. Evans, was doing unspeakable things that made my head swim, all while oblivious customers browsed the aisles. Once the last shopper left, Mr. Evans finally emerged from behind the counter, leaning in close, his hot breath caressing my ear. “Like my technique, do we?” he whispered. 1 My name is Scarlett. I’m a dance major, known as the ‘Campus Belle’ at Rosewood Arts Academy. This summer, I took on a job working at my parents’ corner store near the high school, making a hundred bucks a day. It wasn’t much, but school was out, so it was pretty chill. Most of the time, I just scrolled on my phone. The Rosewood summer, though, was relentlessly hot and humid. And my parents, trying to save a buck, refused to install air conditioning. Sometimes, when the heat became unbearable, I’d slip behind the cash register, sneak out my personal pleasure device, and find a moment of private comfort to soothe my simmering body. Today was particularly sweltering, the kind of mid-summer day that makes you feel like you’re swimming through the air. I’d already secretly shed my bra, but sweat still dripped from every pore, soaking my white tank top and shorts until they clung to me, translucent as wet tissue paper. My soaked tank top clung to my frame, making every curve – especially my fuller chest – unmistakably clear. After a long stretch of no customers, and seeing not a soul outside the store, I couldn’t resist. I grabbed my device, retreated behind the counter, and, just like any other day, closed my eyes, letting myself get lost in a haze of private comfort. But just as I was blissfully lost in my own little world, the door chimed. Mr. Evans, my math teacher from junior year, walked in. “Hey, little boss! Got any glue?” I froze, a jolt of shock coursing through me. My body went limp, trembling, and the device slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. By the time I snapped back to reality and dared to look up, I found Mr. Evans staring at me, a look of stunned disbelief mingled with something disturbingly like admiration in his eyes. My face instantly burned scarlet, a wave of mortification washing over me. I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. God, this was beyond embarrassing! But embarrassing or not, I had a customer. I frantically pulled myself together, forcing my voice to stay steady as I stood up. “Mr. Evans, hi… Yes… yes, we do. It’s usually… under the counter.” My cheeks were on fire, and I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, terrified to meet his eyes. Even though I’d hastily adjusted my clothes, the damp fabric clung to me, outlining every curve as if I were barely dressed, especially without a bra. Mr. Evans, if he wanted, could probably see everything. Sure enough, his breathing grew heavier. I could feel his scorching gaze sweep over me, possessive and knowing. My lip trembled. Was he… was he interested? Was he imagining pressing me down right here on the counter? A sigh of relief escaped me when he didn’t say anything, just crouched down and began rummaging under the counter for the glue. I stole a glance at his back, a mix of chagrin and a strange flicker of excitement stirring within me. Actually, with the summer heat and lack of business, my parents had suggested closing the store for a break. But I insisted on staying. I had a secret: I’d had a crush on Mr. Evans for three years. My persistence in keeping the store open was all about creating opportunities to be near him. I loved his tall frame, his refined, handsome face, and the intense focus in his eyes when he stood at the chalkboard, classic wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, lecturing. His long, slender fingers, holding a piece of chalk, seemed to stir something in my heart with every stroke. But through three years of high school, I was just a student in the next classroom over. On top of that, my parents were incredibly strict, forbidding any teenage romance, let alone something as scandalous as a teacher-student affair. While my friends were exploring intimacy at friends’ houses, whispering tales of secret hookups and amazing experiences, I had to suppress my inner turmoil, my restlessness, and my envy. My feelings for Mr. Evans remained buried deep. That’s why I’d developed this bad habit of self-soothing—a way to vent my frustrations and my silent longing for Mr. Evans. But I never imagined my first real interaction with him would be him catching me in the act. Thinking about it, I felt like crying. Oh God, why me? How could I be so unlucky? Mr. Evans might not have said anything, but he must surely think I’m a loose, reckless girl, right? Still, judging by his reaction just now, he seemed… to like it? 2 “Little boss, are you sure the glue is here?” After a moment, Mr. Evans hadn’t found any glue. He stood up, looking puzzled, and asked me again. I suddenly remembered: we’d sold out of glue a few days ago. I was about to explain when his gaze paused. He seemed to spot something on the floor, then bent down and picked up a pink, oval-shaped object. There was wet residue on it. Mr. Evans brought a finger to his nose, a curious expression on his face. “What kind of glue is this?” he mused. “Smells… unusual. But it’s certainly sticky.” I peered at the pink object in his hand, and a wave of fresh panic crashed over me. It was my personal pleasure device, the one I’d fumbled and dropped! I instantly realized what the “liquid” was. My face turned crimson, and I quickly averted my eyes, utterly speechless. This was beyond mortifying. To my surprise, seeing my reaction, Mr. Evans paused. Then, as if understanding dawned on him, he didn’t show an ounce of disgust. In fact, he gave a wry, almost fond smile, and spoke gently to reassure me. “Ah, I see… that kind of stickiness!” he said. “Little boss, there’s nothing to be ashamed of! It’s perfectly natural. To be honest, sometimes when I’m alone in my apartment, I find myself needing to… unwind. It’s a normal human thing.” He paused again, then looked at me expectantly. “By the way, what’s your name? What should I call you?” My mind went blank. I couldn’t believe Mr. Evans, the cool and refined teacher, was openly sharing such a personal secret to comfort me. He did that too? And he was asking for my name? Was he trying to get closer to me? My heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nerves. God knew how many lonely nights I’d whispered his name to myself as I drifted off to sleep. How long had I waited for this moment? I had to seize this chance! A sudden idea sparked in my mind. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and met his gentle gaze. “Hi, Mr. Evans,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m Scarlett. But you can call me Scar.” I quickly added, “Mr. Evans, we sold out of glue two days ago. How about this: let’s exchange numbers, and when the new stock arrives tomorrow, I can personally bring it to your place?” A girl offering to come to a guy’s house? Even an idiot would get that hint. I waited, heart hammering, for his answer, secretly vowing that if he agreed, I would pull out all the stops. Even if I had to physically make a move, I’d make him mine. But what happened next was beyond anything I could have imagined. Mr. Evans apparently couldn’t wait until tomorrow for the glue. He seemed quite urgent. “Scar,” he said, his voice laced with concern, “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I have some urgent documents that need to be glued right away.” He frowned. “And I don’t know where else to find any at this hour.” He then looked down at his finger, still bearing the wet residue from my device, and then back at me. A strange look crossed his face, as if he’d just made a decision. He glanced quickly outside the empty store, then turned back to me, an embarrassed but persistent plea in his eyes. “Scarlett… could you… maybe help me find something similar to that? Something… sticky, to help with this?” … I was stunned. I never expected Mr. Evans to make such an outlandish request. My face flushed, my ears burning, as I instantly understood his meaning. If anyone else had suggested such a thing, I would have called the police on the spot. But this was Mr. Evans, the man I’d secretly adored for years. My heart didn’t hold a single ounce of reluctance; in fact, I had only one thought: I had to help him. Under Mr. Evans’ expectant gaze, my body trembled. I took a deep breath and nodded firmly. His eyes lit up with delight, and he quickly extended his hand, holding out my pink device. Just then, my phone suddenly rang.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392553”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“Ma’am, perhaps it’s best if you don’t finalize this today…” We were at City Hall, about to get our marriage license, when Ethan’s phone buzzed. A picture of a pregnancy test report from his precious ‘mentee,’ Ella, flashed onto the screen. Without a shred of hesitation, he ditched me right there, rushing off to take her home so she could “rest and take care of the pregnancy.” Not long after, a cozy photo of them appeared on social media. The familiar background? Our bedroom—the one that was supposed to be ours. Then, Ethan’s message popped up: “I had too much to drink at the success party that night. Ella’s pregnant, and I need to be there for her. She wanted to keep it from me, have the baby, and raise it alone, but she’s so young, with a future as a top cardiothoracic surgeon… I can’t ruin her, and I can’t abandon an innocent life.” When I didn’t reply, he added: “Didn’t you want a baby soon? After she gives birth, I’ll send her abroad for advanced studies. You can raise the child. It will only ever know you as its mother.” He even remembered to say: “About the license, we’ll probably have to reschedule after Ella has the baby.” I stared at my phone, my eyes burning, but a laugh escaped me. Did he really think that I, Sarah Sterling, the only daughter of the Northwood Sterlings, couldn’t live without him? Without a second thought, I dialed Jason Jiang’s number. “Marriage license. You in?” … When Jason showed up at City Hall, cursing under his breath, I knew I’d really put him out this time. I heard he was at the airport, about to fly to Italy for a crucial business conference, only to be dragged here by my call. Seeing him grind his teeth, a wave of guilt washed over me. “Sarah Sterling, what in God’s name did I do to deserve you? I chase you for eight damn years, you barely give me the time of day, and now you suddenly want to get married, just like that?” I glanced at the time. “They’re about to close. Are you in or out?” He deflated instantly. “In! I’ve got my papers, rescheduled my flight, and my parents already know. Might as well, right?” Ethan must have finally noticed my silence because he called, his voice tight with an urgency he couldn’t hide. “Sarah, don’t overthink this. You’re the only one for me. What I feel for Ella is just admiration, pure and simple. That night was a genuine accident.” “Mm, I get it,” I said, my voice as flat and lifeless as a stagnant pond. “Men, you know? These things happen.” Silence on his end. After a moment, I heard him take a sharp breath. “Where are you? I’ll send a driver. Ella’s having some morning sickness, and I really can’t leave her…” I cut him off. “Don’t bother.” His tone chilled instantly. “Sarah, are you throwing a tantrum? I’ve explained everything. Ella will leave after the baby is born. What more do you want from me?” A dull ache spread through my chest. I instinctively clutched the brand-new marriage certificate in my hand, forcing myself to stay calm. “Ethan, let’s break up.” He was stunned for a second, then let out a cold, sarcastic laugh. “You know damn well how I’ve treated you all these years, don’t you? Yes, I made a mistake, but what man doesn’t? I’m already trying to make up for it. Do you have to be so aggressive?” I bit my lip, saying nothing. My continued silence made him lose his patience completely. “Fine! Have it your way! Break up then! You’ll come crying back to me in less than half an hour!” The call ended abruptly, leaving only a harsh dial tone ringing in my ear. I took a cab back to our—my former—home. Not to reconcile, but to pack my things and leave for good. The scene that greeted me as I opened the door was a stab to the eyes: Ethan, wearing an apron, a table laden with exquisite dishes. He and Ella were sitting across from each other, laughing and talking. He gently placed food on her plate, even carefully feeding her a bite. That adoring expression, I once thought, was reserved only for me. I remembered how, when I used to cook for him, he’d always hug me from behind, whispering in my ear, “My poor baby, working so hard.” But in five years, he hadn’t so much as poured me a glass of hot water. His excuse was always, “A surgeon’s hands are for operating; they must be protected.” Even holding hands was a careful affair. Now, he was willing to roll up his sleeves and cook for Ella. When Ethan saw me, he shot me a disdainful look that screamed, “See? I knew it.” Ella, on the other hand, greeted me with a sickeningly sweet smile, “Oh, Sarah, you’re back! Want to join us for dinner?” I walked straight past her, heading for the bedroom. “Stop!” Ethan shot up, his face dark. “Ella’s talking to you. Have the decency to respond. Have you lost all your manners?” I turned slowly, a cold laugh escaping me. “How do you want me to respond? Thank her for eagerly volunteering to have my fiancé’s baby so I can be a mother douleur-free? Or should I march over there, slap her, and call her a cheap homewrecker?” “You!” Veins pulsed on Ethan’s temples, he was so angry. Just then, Ella suddenly covered her mouth, gagging, tears welling in her eyes. Ethan immediately rushed to her side. “Ella, what’s wrong? Are you feeling awful?” “Ethan, darling, I’m okay…” She clutched his sleeve, her voice trembling, but directed her tearful accusation at me. “Sarah, it’s all my fault. I didn’t want to live in your house either, but I truly have nowhere else to go. I… I’ll leave as soon as the baby is born. I’ll never bother you and Ethan again…” Then, stroking her belly, she sobbed, “Baby, I’m so sorry. Mommy doesn’t want to leave you, but Mommy did something bad, so she has to accept the punishment… I’m sorry…” She started gagging violently again, collapsing into Ethan’s arms. The look Ethan gave me was filled with loathing, as if I’d committed some heinous crime. “Are you satisfied now?” I scoffed and turned to leave. My attitude completely enraged Ethan. He snatched a glass from the table and hurled it at me. A sharp pain exploded in the back of my head, followed by the sound of shattering glass. I stumbled and fell hard onto the stairs. The piercing pain brought a cold sweat to my brow; for a moment, I couldn’t even get up. “Stop faking it! Get up!” Ethan barked impatiently from behind me. Ella approached, feigning concern. “Sarah, you… you should be okay, right? I think the glass just grazed your shoulder…” “Shut up!” I bit out, gritting my teeth and forcing myself to stand. Seeing me treat Ella so harshly, Ethan’s eyes turned icy. “Ella’s lost her appetite. Go make her your specialty, that fish soup with tofu. And remember, no onions. She doesn’t like them.” “I’m not doing it,” I refused without hesitation. “That’s an order!” Ethan’s face was terrifyingly dark. “Sarah, do you think you have a choice?” I clenched my fists, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m just not doing it. What are you going to do about it?” A dangerous glint flashed in Ethan’s eyes. He strode forward, roughly grabbed my arm, and shoved me hard into the kitchen. Slam! The door was slammed shut. “Don’t even think about coming out until that soup is made!” “Ethan, you’re insane!” I pounded on the door, screaming “Let me out!” at the top of my lungs, but was met only with dead silence. My palms were red and throbbing. Finally, I slid down, defeated, leaning against the cold door. Through the door, I could hear their voices clearly. Ella, in a soft, gentle voice: “Ethan, darling, isn’t this a bit too harsh on Sarah? If she doesn’t want to make it, then don’t force her. I’m fine without the soup.” Ethan sighed. “Ella, she’s just been spoiled by the Sterlings all these years. I have to break her of that princess attitude. If she’s going to marry into the Miller family, she has to follow Miller family rules. Otherwise, how will she be a good mother to our child?” “The Millers are a medical family; we’ve always valued kindness and good relations. But she’s too blunt… My mom never really liked her.” Ella asked, puzzled, “Ethan, honey, then why don’t you just break up with her?” Silence fell outside. I held my breath, motionless, leaning against the door. Yes, if I was so unbearable in his eyes, why did he put up with me? The silence stretched on for a long time. Ella prompted cautiously, “Ethan?” Ethan’s calm voice, like a knife, pierced my heart: “The Sterling family’s influence in Northwood is second to none. They’ve been a huge help to my career over the years…” I clutched my chest, tears finally breaking free. So that was it. All these years, he’d valued the Sterling family, not me. In a daze, I remembered the year my grandfather had a sudden heart attack. It was Ethan’s bold surgical plan that saved his life. I was instantly smitten with this young, accomplished, and skilled doctor. I only sent a commendation plaque to express my gratitude, never expecting him to start pursuing me so intensely. He never actively asked for the Sterling family’s help; all those behind-the-scenes maneuvers were arranged by me, without his knowledge. How laughable. I’d even worried he’d refuse it if he found out. The kitchen door opened. Ethan was visibly startled when he saw me, then frowned. “You cry this much just making soup? Get out, you’re annoying to look at!” I fought back a wave of dizziness and stood up, stumbling towards the bedroom. The moment I pushed open the door, a chill ran down my spine. The bedsheets had been changed to a pink lace set I detested. My photo on the nightstand was replaced with a picture of an unfamiliar baby. In the closet, not a single piece of my clothing remained. Ethan’s voice came from behind me: “The guest room is too small. It’s inconvenient for Ella with her big belly. She needs to stay in the master bedroom for now.” Ella added timidly, “Sarah, you… you wouldn’t mind, would you? Don’t worry, as soon as the baby is born, I’ll…” “Oh,” I cut her off. “Where are my things?” Ethan looked away. “I had the maid move them to the storage room. The nearest guest room is being converted into a nursery. You can pick another guest room.” I was silent for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine.” In the storage room, my couture gowns were carelessly tossed on the floor. My jewelry was scattered in a grimy corner, like unwanted trash. I took a deep breath and looked sarcastically at Ella, who had followed me in. “Couldn’t wait, could you? Couldn’t even wait for me to leave?” A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face before she put on an innocent expression. “Sarah, what are you talking about? Ethan asked the maid to pack these. I didn’t do anything.” I scoffed, pointing at a shoe print on one of my gowns. “Did the maid do this too?” “So what if I did?” She suddenly lowered her voice, a venomous glint in her eyes, yet she feigned fear and backed away. “Sarah, I’m begging you, please let me go!” With that, she let out a sudden shriek and pretended to fall backward. Ethan rushed in just in time to catch her. Ella immediately clutched her stomach, sobbing. “Ethan, darling, I didn’t do anything! Why would Sarah push me… Thank goodness you came, otherwise the baby…” “I didn’t push her!” My throat tightened, and I explained instinctively. Rage flared in Ethan’s eyes. He grabbed my neck, slamming me against the wall. “You think I’ll believe you? That Ella would use her child to frame you? When did you become so vicious!” His grip was terrifyingly strong. I could barely breathe, desperately struggling to force out a few words. “I really… didn’t…” “Enough! I don’t want to hear your excuses!” He laughed, a chilling, furious sound, then shoved me to the floor. “Go back to the Sterlings and be your precious little princess! Don’t come back until you’ve learned your lesson!” I stumbled to my feet, looking at him in disbelief. Eleven o’clock at night, and he was kicking me out? I remembered how, in the past, he would insist on accompanying me even if I just wanted to take a walk at night. But now, his chin was high, and he wouldn’t even spare me a glance. My nose suddenly stung. How many times had he lost his temper with me today because of Ella? No matter what I said or did, in his eyes, I was wrong. And today… today was supposed to be our wedding day. I closed my eyes, didn’t even grab any clothes, and fled that suffocating place without a backward glance. … I had just gotten back to the Sterling mansion when my phone vibrated. It was a video from Ella. I knew I shouldn’t open it, but my finger pressed play uncontrollably. In the video, Ethan was gently holding Ella, his eyes closed as he softly kissed her forehead, his face a mask of bliss and tenderness. His voice carried a hint of regret: “Ella, if I had met you sooner, I wouldn’t have ended up with Sarah. You’re so talented in medicine, so pure and driven. And her? She just throws her weight around because of the Sterling family’s backing, doing nothing productive all day.” “The Miller family has been in medicine for generations. If I really married her, our reputation would be ruined sooner or later.” Every word was like a poisoned needle, precisely striking my most vulnerable spots. Ella, using her family’s connections in the medical field, had easily become his personally mentored student, his ‘little sister.’ That was his definition of “talented.” And I, who had given up family resources to start from the bottom and climb my way up to Director of Investments at Sterling Corp… In his eyes, I was “doing nothing productive.” So, in his heart, I had always been worthless. How could he have ever genuinely loved me? I put down my phone, tears soaking my pillow. I tossed and turned all night. Just as dawn was breaking, Jason called. “Morning, wifey. Sleep well?” His voice was practically buzzing with unconcealed joy. “Just landed in Milan. I was too excited to sleep a wink on the plane—that was over ten hours. I still can’t believe you actually married me.” His tone suddenly softened. “Wifey, I’m already missing you. Do you miss me?” Wifey? The word jolted me awake. Only then did I remember: yesterday, in a fit of anger, I had married Jason Jiang. “Wifey? Why aren’t you saying anything? You… you don’t regret it, do you?” His voice was filled with a mountain of hurt. “No,” I answered softly. Jason and I had grown up together. While I wasn’t sure if he truly loved me, at least we knew each other inside out. The Jiang family was a good match for mine; he was indeed a suitable husband. He audibly sighed in relief on the other end, his energy returning. “I’ll be back tomorrow! We’re going to pick out wedding rings! Even though getting the license was rushed, the proposal, the wedding ceremony—we’re not skipping a single thing!” “You just focus on being the most beautiful bride. Leave everything else to me.” I couldn’t help but chuckle softly, agreeing to his plans. That was Jason. With him, he’d arrange everything. I only ever needed to follow. And Ethan… My memories were always of his retreating back. Even getting married was something I had to bring up. At the time, he’d frowned and said, “It’s only been five years. Isn’t it too soon to get married?” The difference between being loved and not being loved… it was so painfully clear. For an entire day, there was no word from Ethan. His mother, however, eagerly called, her tone dripping with condescending superiority: “You know about Ethan and Ella, don’t you? Now that Ella is carrying the Miller family’s first grandchild, we certainly won’t let her be wronged. We’ll make sure Ethan marries her. It’s a good thing Ethan didn’t get the license with you yesterday. This is fate!” “I told you long ago you two weren’t suitable. The Sterlings have been in business for three generations, while the Millers have been doctors for generations. Our family legacies simply don’t match, don’t you agree?” I let out a cold laugh. “Mrs. Miller, Ethan and I have already broken up. In the future, please don’t contact me unless it’s something important.” She was clearly stunned, probably not expecting me, usually so docile, to talk back like that. Just as she was about to fly into a rage, I decisively hung up. She immediately called back several times. I blocked her number without hesitation, then proceeded to block all of Ethan’s contact methods as well. I deleted all our photos together. Five years of love dissipated along with them. The next day, while I was at a jewelry store picking out wedding rings, I unexpectedly ran into Ethan and Ella. He was excitedly helping Ella pick out an expensive set of jewelry and had even ordered a custom baby charm for their unborn child. Seeing me trying on rings, Ethan’s face instantly darkened. “Sarah! I told you to go home and reflect on your actions, and instead, you’re out buying wedding rings? You think I’ll still marry you with this attitude?” He roughly grabbed my hand, forcibly took off the ring, and handed it back to the salesclerk. “We’re not buying this ring, thank you.” The edge of the diamond scratched my finger, and blood welled up immediately. The clerk hurried to tend to my wound, but Ethan stopped her coldly. “It’s just a scratch, don’t bother.” I ignored him. Wiping away the blood, I told the clerk, “Please get me that other ring.” Ethan seized my wrist, roaring, “Didn’t I make myself clear? You’re not buying any rings today!” Customers around us started whispering: “That pregnant woman must be his wife, right? This other woman is pretty brazen, daring to pick out wedding rings so openly.” “Shameless. Being the other woman and still wanting a title. See, her man just shut her down.” Seeing this, Ella feigned conciliation. “Sarah, please stop making a scene. It’s embarrassing with so many people watching. How about I give you the ring Ethan just bought me? See if you like it?” The salesclerk also chimed in, “Ma’am, if you keep this up, we can’t do business.” Ethan’s grip tightened, and he was about to drag me away forcefully. I wrenched my hand free. “Ethan, what business is it of yours if I buy a wedding ring? Please mind your own damn business!” “None of my business? Fine! I’m officially calling off our engagement! You’ll never need to buy a wedding ring now!” With that, he shoved me hard. Just as I stumbled and was about to fall, a pair of strong hands caught me. Jason’s voice sounded by my ear, “Honey, sorry I’m late.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392573”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wife, Sarah, was a lifeguard. A deep-sea specialist. After she led me into the depths, she suddenly left me alone. I thrashed desperately in the water, my oxygen running low, frantically mashing the call button on my radio, sending out an S.O.S. Finally, a response, but it was her impatient rebuke: “Have you had your fun yet? Someone’s choking on water, I’m in a rush to save them! You’re spamming the emergency channel, tying up public resources! Obstructing a rescue is a jailable offense!” Over the cacophony in the background, I heard her ex-boyfriend’s choked, emotional voice. “I knew it, Sarah! I knew you still had feelings for me, that you’d come save me.” At death’s door, I didn’t argue. I kept sending out distress signals. The lifeguard who finally answered told me with regret, “Someone’s drowning in the shallows, all the nearest lifeguards have rushed over. I’ve notified HQ to send someone. You have to hold on.” If I remembered correctly, the shallow area was barely five feet deep. I stared down into the abyss below me, my last bit of oxygen depleting in a haze of despair. Before the blackness of suffocation consumed me, I left Sarah one final message. “I’m done making a scene, Sarah. I wish you two happiness.” The sharp pain of suffocation suddenly vanished. I saw my own body, floating in the seawater. My limbs were still contorted in a struggle for life. Fish and shrimp swam past. With a flick of a tail, my body drifted uncontrollably a little further down. The face under the oxygen mask was a ghastly blue-gray, lips swollen and white from the saltwater. So, I was dead. An hour ago. My wife Sarah and I had come here to dive. As a highly skilled deep-sea lifeguard, she led me into the deep-water zone. But shortly after we arrived, she abruptly left on her own. I wasn’t a strong swimmer and couldn’t handle the deep-sea pressure. I simply couldn’t keep up with Sarah’s speed. In the blink of an eye, she vanished without a trace. Relying on tips she’d given me before, I slowly kicked my legs, managing to hold on for a bit, but I barely moved. Then my leg got tangled in seaweed. Panicking, I gasped for air, and the red light on my oxygen mask flashed – the warning that my air was about to run out. I hurriedly pressed the radio, sending a distress signal to Sarah. After all, she knew my location best; it would save precious search time. However, there was no response from the other end. I remembered when she confessed her feelings for me: “Alex, my job is to save people. As soon as I receive a distress signal, I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” “This is your exclusive device.” “Whenever, wherever, if you send a signal, I will cross any distance to be by your side.” I’d thought about setting the signal range to maximum, but decided to keep pressing. Sarah was in charge of this area, and too wide a signal would make pinpointing my location harder. Finally, Sarah’s voice came through, but it was an interrogation. “Alex, what the hell are you doing, mashing the signal button? It’s giving me a headache!” Only then did I realize I’d been pressing too fast, a purely instinctual survival response. I struggled to take a breath to speak, but my throat felt like a rusted pipe; I could only manage a hoarse whisper. My oxygen was nearly gone, but Sarah didn’t seem to notice my distress. When she heard no reply, she grew impatient. I clenched my jaw, forcing out a few words: “Sarah, I’m almost out of air… save me…” But she yelled back, “Have you had your fun yet? Someone’s choking on water, I’m in a rush to save them! You’re spamming the emergency channel, tying up public resources! Obstructing a rescue is a jailable offense!” “And you say you’re out of air? I filled your tank myself, you think I don’t know how much is in it?” “Can you tell the truth for once, instead of just lying?” In the background, I heard her ex-boyfriend, Ryan, his voice thick with emotion. “Sarah, I knew you still had feelings for me, you’d definitely come save me.” Between us, who was the one full of lies? For the past three months, Sarah had often been MIA. Even on dates, if I looked away for a second, she’d be gone. When I asked, she always said a colleague needed her. But I’d clearly seen messages pop up on her phone from a guy – Ryan. My intuition was usually spot on. It cost me a bit, but I found out who he was – her on-again, off-again boyfriend of three years. The woman I was about to marry was still entangled with her ex, running around for him, yet she’d abandoned me in the deep sea and berated me when I called for help. The irony was bitter. The radio let out a piercing shriek as Sarah unilaterally ended the call. Before my oxygen completely ran out, I gritted my teeth and set the distress signal to its maximum range. Finally, a lifeguard responded, but after checking the signal location, he said, as expected, that this area was Sarah’s responsibility and he’d transfer me. “Transfer failed? What’s Captain Sarah doing? How come I can’t reach a single lifeguard in this sector?” “Impossible, Captain Sarah is a trained professional, she wouldn’t make such a rookie mistake!” On the other end of the radio, the lifeguard was discussing it with his colleague. The signal was intermittent, and the suffocation made it hard to hear the rest. I bit my tongue hard, regaining a sliver of consciousness. I heard him say urgently, “Sorry, someone’s drowning in the shallows, all the nearest lifeguards have rushed over. I’ve notified HQ to send someone. You have to hold on.” My vision was already clouding with large black spots. “How long…?” I asked, my voice a mere thread. “I’m… almost out of air…” “We’ll be as quick as possible. Your distress signal is quite far out, making it hard to pinpoint your location, but we’ll reach you and start the rescue within twenty minutes at the latest. You absolutely have to hold on.” He tried to soothe me with words. He even suggested some self-rescue techniques. I looked down at my legs, increasingly tangled in seaweed, trying to breathe steadily, to conserve my minimal energy… I didn’t have the strength to tell him I’d already tried those when I was first abandoned. His words replayed in my mind. “Someone’s drowning in the shallows…” If I remembered correctly, the shallow area was barely five feet deep. Even if a child were drowning, any nearby adult could pull them up, not to mention there were other lifeguards patrolling the beach. But Sarah still went. I remembered a fortnight ago, Sarah missed our wedding. On the dais, to my right, stood my dad, leaning on his cane, his leg still bad. To my left, her parents, looking impatient, constantly checking their phones. Below were our relatives and friends, Sarah’s and mine. Every invitation, Sarah had handwritten and delivered personally. Every step of the reception, she had rehearsed. Even the officiant’s speech, Sarah had meticulously crafted after reading countless books. But after the dry speech ended, when it was time to exchange rings, Sarah’s colleague came up on stage. “Alex, I’m sorry. Captain Sarah had an emergency. Here’s the ring. She said if you put it on, the wedding is complete.” I looked at the wedding ring, so carefully chosen by Sarah. My heart felt like it was submerged in water, sour and swollen. Sarah, did she care about me, or not? After the wedding. Sarah sent a cold, brief thank you. “Alex, thank you for holding the wedding together on your own. I’m sorry about this. Tonight, you can punish me however you want.” Then, in the empty bridal suite, I waited for her all night. The next day, I opened social media and saw Ryan had updated his status. “Your groom wasn’t me, but your wedding night was mine.” Below it was a photo: Sarah, asleep. And Sarah, using her main account, liked it. That evening. Sarah came home for dinner. I sat across the table from her, calmly expressing my views on marriage, on love. I said that since we were married, we had to take on the corresponding responsibilities. But she held her chopsticks in one hand, shoveling food into her mouth, while her other hand was busy replying to messages. She yawned. I stared at her. On the screen, the account labeled “Colleague” sent a message. “You worked hard last night. I won’t be so difficult next time.” The dam of my suppressed anger finally burst. I threw the social media evidence at her, questioning her, arguing with her. She flew into a rage, slammed the door, and left. I looked at the mess on the floor, an endless weariness washing over me. Since Sarah couldn’t make a choice, I would make it for her. I sent her a divorce message and started packing to move out. But Sarah knelt before me in the pouring rain, and right in front of me, blocked all of Ryan’s contact methods. She said, “Alex, I love you. Let’s put the past behind us, start fresh. I messed up the wedding, I’ll make it up to you with a honeymoon, okay?” And then, she took me to the deep sea, and abandoned me again. The lifeguard on the other end of the radio couldn’t hear my response and his tone grew anxious. “Can you still hear me? I’m doing my best to get there, please don’t give up hope.” Just as he said that, the signal cut out due to the distance. I didn’t want to give up hope, but reality didn’t bend to my will. The red light on my oxygen tank blinked faster and faster. I gritted my teeth and thrashed my legs, but I couldn’t break free from the damn seaweed. My consciousness began to fade, my body spasming from oxygen deprivation. In an instant. The light on the oxygen tank stopped blinking. It was completely empty. Many images flashed before my eyes, finally settling on Sarah’s back as she turned and walked away without hesitation. With my last breath, I pressed the distress signal and spoke my final words. Perhaps it was too much regret. My soul drifted higher and higher, following my last words, to Sarah’s side. The shallow area was bustling with people, forming a circle. In the center of the crowd, Ryan and Sarah were playing out a chase scene. Sarah gripped Ryan’s hand tightly, hugging him close. “Ryan, don’t test anyone with your own life. You need to love yourself, understand?” The crowd was just watching the spectacle, but Sarah’s colleagues looked like they were swallowing something bitter. Finally, someone couldn’t stand it anymore and pushed through the crowd. He reminded her, “Captain, we need to go. HQ sent a message twenty minutes ago. Someone’s out of oxygen in the deep-sea zone, ordering us to launch a rescue.” I remembered him; he was the one who brought the ring to the stage at the wedding. His name was Mark. Sarah frowned, bent down to tuck the blanket around Ryan, then turned around impatiently. “I made myself clear. No one is out of oxygen in the deep-sea zone. I just came from there to rescue him. I know better than you!” Mark’s face flushed red. “But HQ keeps pushing. It’s a matter of life and death, we can’t be careless.” Hearing this, Sarah’s face darkened. She felt her authority was challenged and said sarcastically, “What a coincidence, two lives in danger at the same time. Someone must be lying. If you want to question my decision, rush to grab the credit, then get lost. I’m not stopping you!” “It’s a life-or-death situation, how did it become about grabbing credit? Besides, you’re in charge of this area. One order from you, and we all have to come witness your love story with your… partner. You think anyone dares to leave?” Mark was young and fiery, his words dripping with sarcasm. “You!” Sarah’s face turned ashen. She grabbed Mark’s collar. The crowd recoiled in fear, and her colleagues rushed forward. Ryan gently tugged at Sarah’s sleeve, swaying it back and forth. “Sarah, don’t be mad.” “Mark’s not a bad guy, he just wants to save people. I think… we should go.” And just like that, after his two sentences, Sarah let go of Mark. Ryan smiled brightly, turned, and bowed to the crowd. “Thank you all for saving me just now. You’ll all be rewarded. I’ll cherish my life and never trouble anyone again.” With that, he winked at Sarah. He wouldn’t trouble others, but Sarah… she wasn’t “others.” The twenty-minute rescue window HQ had told me about had completely passed. Only then did Sarah and her team set off in the rescue boat. As she buckled her life vest, Sarah muttered impatiently. “Always causing trouble, wasting time.” My smile was bleak. Sarah, I am already asleep beneath the waves. I won’t cause any more trouble. The rescue boat sped across the sea. Sarah helped Ryan adjust his blanket. “Sarah, your radio suddenly went silent earlier. Alex isn’t really in trouble, is he?” Ryan tilted his head, feigning concern. Sarah sneered. “He’s doing it on purpose.” “A perfectly good honeymoon, and he has to make such a drama out of it. Just now on the radio, he was saying something about not making a scene anymore. I don’t get what’s going on in his head.” Hearing this, Ryan lowered his head, a smug smile playing on his lips. But his tone was still soft and weak. “Is it because of the wedding? Sarah, I really didn’t mean to. You know I have depression. How about… you ask Alex to come out, and we can clear things up?” He struck a magnanimous pose, his eyes slightly red. Sarah gently stroked the corner of his eye, shaking her head. “No need. You’re sick. You don’t have to accommodate anyone.” With that, Sarah let go of Ryan, sat to one side, and began to define the search area. She suddenly frowned, tapping her finger twice on a specific location, then took out her radio, trying to reconnect to the distress signal. But it failed. I saw her sigh, take out her phone, open her messaging app. The wallpaper was a photo of me. She opened a chat window labeled “Hubby” and typed: “Alex, life needs a little drama to be exciting. The honeymoon I promised you has just begun. You wanted to see snow, right? We’ll leave tomorrow.” A faint smile unconsciously touched her lips. If we could share the snow, this life would count as growing old together. The rescue boat suddenly stopped. A wave crashed over it, flooding the boat. Sarah, quick as lightning, grabbed Ryan, holding him protectively. The message she’d just typed hadn’t been sent; her phone, soaked, went black. Ryan coughed violently, his arms wrapped tightly around Sarah’s waist. Sarah patted him soothingly, pried his hands off, and stood up from the rescue boat. The lifeguards climbed back in, one by one. The radar was off, but they were still checking for other victims. One lifeguard climbed onto Sarah’s boat, ripped off his oxygen mask, and threw it aside. He panted, questioning her: “Captain Sarah, this is your sector! Lifeguards from further out rushed here, but you were missing! What the hell were you doing?!” My body was pulled out, bloated and grotesque from the seawater. A female lifeguard covered me with her jacket, preserving my last shred of dignity, only my arm hung limply. Sarah’s gaze fell upon me, and when she saw the wedding ring on my ring finger, she froze. The lifeguard was still speaking up for me. “According to the signal trajectory, you were the first to receive the victim’s distress call. Why didn’t you save him? You call yourself a senior lifeguard? Watching a life end right before your eyes! To put it bluntly, this is tantamount to intentional homicide!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392591”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“Can you, a transmigrator, just disappear already?!” Liam glared at me, his face filled with disgust, as he swatted the cake I had personally baked to the ground. The two small figures I had painstakingly drawn on it lay smashed and jumbled. I stared blankly at the ruined cake, my face, I realized, was wet with tears. “Don’t you dare cry in front of me. It’s truly annoying!” “You’ve taken over my beloved’s body, stolen everything that was hers. I wish I could kill you!” But I was innocent. Transmigration wasn’t something I could control. Why was I being blamed for everything? 1 “What do you think I should get Liam for his birthday?” I asked Jenny, hugging a pillow to my chest, my face flushed with shyness. “Oh, looking shy, are we? So, you’re going to confess to my brother on his birthday?” I buried my face deeper into the pillow and softly hummed a “yes.” Liam and I had grown up together, childhood friends. Our families were close, and everyone pretty much assumed we were a couple. It was no surprise that I had fallen for him. Jenny leaped up from her chair, excitedly exclaiming, “Riley, you’re finally going to be my sister-in-law! My best friend is my future sister-in-law. Is there anyone luckier than me in the world?!” I blushed, smiling shyly. “It’s not a done deal yet. Maybe Liam doesn’t even like me.” Jenny thumped her chest, assuring me, “Riley, don’t worry. My brother, that ice block, definitely likes you. I’ve never seen him be as gentle with anyone else as he is with you.” “What do you think about me baking a cake myself? Liam isn’t short on expensive gifts, nor on people to give them to him. So, I think the thought counts most. What do you say?” “Of course! I bet my brother wouldn’t even want to eat it then! Want me to come help you?” “No, I want to do it all by myself. That way, it’ll truly be from the heart.” For the next few days, every moment outside of classes was spent at baking lessons, learning how to make the perfect cake. From awkwardly shaped blobs at first to something reasonably presentable now, I finally finished the cake on the morning of Liam’s birthday. On top, I’d drawn two small figures, holding hands, with the words “Ten fingers interlocked, tightly embraced, accompanied for a lifetime” written below in English. Liam always preferred low-key celebrations, so for his birthday, he’d only invited a few close friends for a get-together. After carefully packaging the cake, I set it aside, constantly checking my phone for a message. I waited from morning until night, but no invitation from Liam arrived. I felt a strange sense of unease, refreshing my phone repeatedly. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. I quickly opened it, only to see a message from Jenny. My eyes dropped, disappointment clearly visible. “Riley, my brother’s birthday party is almost over. Why haven’t you shown up?” “Liam didn’t invite me.” I stared at Jenny’s message, reading each word in disbelief. The hope I had clung to finally shattered completely. “Huh? How could that be? Did my brother forget to send it to you?” Forget? No way. He invited the same people every year. Unless it was intentional, he wouldn’t forget. But why would Liam do this? My heart felt like it was crawling with countless ants, sending sharp pains through me. Unbeknownst to me, my eyes had already welled up, blurring my vision. My fingers trembled as I typed, trying to find an excuse for Liam, but my tears wouldn’t listen, splattering onto the phone screen. “Can you send me the address? I’ll head over.” “Okay, in private room 4416.” Jenny then sent a location pin. I looked at the address, called my family’s driver, and turned off my phone. I quickly wiped the tears from my face, picked up the cake, and walked out the door. My phone, still in my jacket pocket, kept vibrating with notifications, likely Jenny trying to comfort me. But I didn’t want to look. My mind was a tangled mess, and all I wanted was to get to Liam and ask him what was going on. The evening weather had suddenly turned cold. I had rushed out, only grabbing a thin jacket, and shivered in the biting wind, pulling my collar tighter to ward off the chill. Thankfully, Uncle Bob arrived quickly. I swiftly got into the car, closed the door, and finally felt a bit of warmth. “Uncle Bob, to the Grand Hotel. Please, a little fast, thank you.” Uncle Bob glanced back at the cake on the seat beside me and casually asked, “Miss, going to Liam’s birthday?” I forced a smile. “Yes.” “No wonder you’re in such a rush. Don’t worry, Miss, I’ll get you there in time. That Liam, really, not even bothering to tell you in advance. Making you rush like this. He needs a good talking-to,” the driver chuckled. “Yeah.” 2 I stood nervously outside the private room, taking several deep breaths, trying to plaster a smile on my face. I knocked, then pushed the door open. Liam’s birthday party was clearly over. Liam wasn’t a fan of flashy decorations, so the room had no special setup, only a pile of gifts on the floor. I stepped inside and saw Liam sitting on the sofa, texting someone. A gentle smile played on his face, and his eyes shimmered with a soft glow. My heart sank, but I kept my expression neutral, maintaining my smile. “Liam, how come you didn’t invite me to your birthday? That’s so rude!” Liam looked up when he heard my voice. The gentleness vanished from his face, replaced by a slight frown. “Why are you here?” The coldness and distance in Liam’s tone were undisguised. I froze, my smile faltering, trying to suppress the ache in my chest. I walked up to Liam, offering him the cake. “I came to bring you a birthday cake. I made it myself…” Before I could finish, Liam abruptly stood up and knocked the cake to the floor. “Get away from me!” I stared blankly at the ruined cake on the ground, my face, I realized, was covered in tears. Why had it come to this? Everything had been fine just a month ago. All I’d been doing was learning how to bake a cake, and now, suddenly, everything had changed. “Crying? How dare you even cry?” I looked up at Liam in disbelief. The disgust in his eyes was like a sharp sword, piercing my heart. It hurt so much, so much… “Why?” Liam scoffed as if he’d heard a joke. “Fine, you want to know why? I’ll tell you.” His voice was low and menacing. “My kindness towards you for the past three years was all for this moment, to humiliate you right to your face.” His eyes narrowed. “Riley Jenkins, every time I called you ‘Riley’ I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to kill you with my own hands!” He snarled. “You’ve taken over my beloved’s body, stolen everything that was hers. I’ll make you, a shameless transmigrator, pay the price!” Yes, I was a transmigrator. In my original world, I was an orphan, alone and friendless. After a car accident, I woke up in this world. The Riley Jenkins of this world was born into a family that adored her, surrounded by loving parents and friends. No one knew how terrified I was when I first woke up in that hospital, facing unfamiliar surroundings and people. But gradually, I began to acquire all of the original Riley’s memories, almost forgetting my past life. Over time, I truly started to believe I belonged to this world. So, I shamelessly usurped “Riley Jenkins’” life. I thought this secret would forever remain mine, but it turns out, it was a joke from the very beginning. I don’t remember how I got back. After Liam finished speaking, I just left, abandoning myself there. I only remember how cold the wind was that day, its chill seeping through my skin and into my heart. 3 “Riley, Riley! Can you hear me? You have a fever. We need to go to the hospital, okay?” So, that’s why I felt so awful. I had a fever. I struggled to open my eyes and saw Jenny’s worried face. I tried to force a smile, hoping to reassure her. “It’s nothing. I just need to lie down a bit longer.” “No, we have to go to the hospital. You’re burning up. It must be a high fever.” Jenny touched my forehead, her expression serious. Jenny asked our two other roommates to call in sick for us, then helped me out of bed and called an Uber. I wore a mask, leaning weakly against Jenny, my head throbbing. “Jenny, if I weren’t Riley, would you still be this good to me?” Jenny frowned, checked my forehead again, then hers for comparison. “You really are burning up. No wonder you’re talking nonsense.” At the hospital, my temperature was 103.1°F. I lay in the hospital bed, an IV drip in my arm. I watched Jenny bustling around the room for me, pouring hot water, buying me porridge. My eyes welled up. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Jenny, finishing her tasks, stretched and noticed my tears. She rushed to my side. “Are you feeling unwell somewhere else?” I bit my lip hard, trying to hold back the tears. But as I saw the worry in Jenny’s eyes, the tears still rolled down like broken pearls, my shoulders beginning to tremble, my body shaking uncontrollably. “Riley, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me.” Jenny hugged me, patting my back, repeatedly asking what was wrong. After finally calming down, I pulled away from Jenny, wiped my tears, and explained, “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just touched.” Jenny paused, surprised by my answer, then laughed. “Because when I was little, I got sick once. My family wasn’t home, and you found me and took me to the hospital.” Jenny’s words struck me like a lightning bolt, leaving me utterly shattered. Jenny saw my stunned expression and thought I had simply forgotten the incident. “Oh, it’s not a big deal, really. But from that day on, I decided we’d be best friends for life.” My mind was a tangled mess, I didn’t know how to speak. Jenny’s worried gaze felt like countless sharp swords, slowly tearing me apart. Just then, the door opened. I turned my head and saw Liam walk in. Panic flashed in my eyes as I lay helplessly in the hospital bed. Why was he here? Was he here to expose me? “Bro, you’re here.” “Yeah.” “Well… I’ll head out then. You two chat.” Jenny winked at me, then left the hospital, leaving Liam and me alone. I wasn’t so naive as to think Liam had come on his own. Jenny must have tricked him into coming. We stared at each other for a long time. I wanted to say so much, but in the end, I swallowed all the words. “I’m sorry…” I couldn’t stand the oppressive atmosphere in the room anymore and spoke first. A thousand words could only be condensed into those three. Liam’s eyes were beautiful. When he smiled, the corners tilted up, like charming, soulful eyes. But when he didn’t smile, his gaze became cold, sharp, calm, and indifferent. When he heard my apology, his suppressed anger seemed to ignite. “Riley Jenkins, does ‘sorry’ help? Can you get out of her body and give her back to me?” I didn’t know what to do. I could only cover my face and cry, begging him not to tell anyone. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. Please, don’t tell Jenny and my parents…” Liam scoffed as if he’d heard a joke. “The day you took over her body, you should have expected the day you’d be exposed.” His voice was chilling. “Not only will they know, but I’ll make sure everyone you know finds out what a selfish, disgusting person you are.” “Liam, I beg you, please don’t tell them? I promise I’ll stay far away from you.” I ripped out the IV needle in the back of my hand. My legs gave out as I tried to get out of bed, and I fell to the floor, having to brace myself with my arms. Liam walked over and knelt down, pinching my chin. He saw my tear-streaked face and smiled with satisfaction, then forcefully shoved my face away. The fingers that had touched my face vigorously rubbed on my clothes, as if I were something dirty. His grip was strong, and the skin where he had touched burned with pain. I gasped. Liam seemed very pleased with my pathetic state. “This is just the beginning. From now on, I’ll make you pay back double, make you regret ever coming to this world.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392607”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I had loved Julian Sterling for a decade, clawing my way to marry him. I even ruthlessly drove away the idealized first love he cherished. Six years into our marriage, women around him changed like a revolving door, yet no matter how he hurt me, I never considered leaving. Until that day, pregnant, I saw him bring another woman home, twisting and turning on our marital bed. I broke down and questioned him, but he sneered, “Aurora Hayes, don’t forget what you said when we married—as long as you could marry me, you wouldn’t interfere with my private life.” “If you feel short-changed, you’re free to go find someone else.” He glanced at my swollen belly, his voice utterly contemptuous, “Remember to use protection. Don’t defile the Sterling bloodline.” I lunged forward, losing control, but he coldly pushed me away. I stumbled down the stairs, leading to the tragic loss of both mother and child. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I saw him bring that woman home. This time, I resolved to let go of a decade of obsession, to both fulfill Julian’s desires and reclaim my soul. 1 During my anomaly scan, I learned I was having a daughter. Overjoyed, I bought a heap of pink baby items from the store, eager to surprise Julian. The moment I stepped through the door, a faint, lingering scent of perfume tightened my chest—a smell I couldn’t bear during my pregnancy. I climbed the stairs, step by step, and saw scattered clothes in the hallway: men’s ties and trousers entwined with women’s lingerie and slip dresses, trailing all the way to the slightly ajar master bedroom door. Unbearable sounds drifted from within. My palms clenched, nails digging into my flesh. Looking down, the newly bought baby items had somehow slipped from my grasp, mixing with the clothes on the floor, a glaring sight. At this moment, I finally understood: I had been reborn. In my previous life, I had impulsively burst through that door, grappling with the couple inside, only to die consumed by hatred. This time, I merely leaned against the wall, slowly descending the stairs, and quietly sat on the sofa to wait. Time stretched on. Julian finally appeared at the top of the stairs, clad in a bathrobe, the nauseating scent of their recent intimacy clinging to him. He watched my dry retches with an impassive face. I wiped my mouth, my voice eerily calm: “You have a guest?” He nonchalantly nodded, slowly walking towards me. I clutched my belly, stepping back. “And this guest is in our room now?” He paused, likely surprised by my unusual composure. Just then, Chloe Peterson, a woman who could have walked off a movie screen, glided down the stairs, wrapped in my silk nightgown. Her chest was covered in red marks from their pleasure. She deliberately asked in a delicate voice, “Mr. Sterling, who is this…?” Julian squeezed her shoulder, his eyes full of provocative intent: “Her? Oh, she’s my wife—no, Mrs. Sterling, I should say.” Chloe gasped, her voice trembling artfully: “You’re so naughty! Why didn’t you tell me your wife would be back…?” Julian kissed her neck, then smiled at me: “Mrs. Sterling, didn’t we agree? This marriage is a mutual arrangement, no interference.” “You haven’t lost out these past six years. The Sterling family has been more than generous to the Hayes family.” He was right. Had it not been for the staggering sum from our prenuptial agreement, Hayes Industries would have long gone bankrupt, and my parents and brother wouldn’t be living in such luxury today. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “I understand. I apologize for interrupting.” I put on my shoes and pulled open the door. From behind me, Julian’s voice came, with a barely perceptible tremor: “Wait!” I didn’t look back. Julian, this time, I won’t wait for you. 2 Dragging my heavy body, I stepped out of the gated community and hailed a cab. Before opening the car door, I took one last look at that mansion—perhaps this was the best ending. At least it wouldn’t be like my previous life, where I sacrificed my life for someone who never loved me. Unable to go back to my parents’ house, I could only return to my small pre-marital apartment. I threw the sheets and duvet covers into the washing machine, then wiped down tables and mopped the floors, leaving no corner untouched. By the time everything was tidied, it was already late night. A cramping pain subtly radiated from my belly. I curled up in bed, clutching a pillow, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted. A cold, wet sensation on my face surprised me; it was tears. Ten years of bitter, unrequited love ending so abruptly. My heart ached. I wrestled with the decision of whether to keep the baby, tossing and turning through a sleepless night. But Julian, meanwhile, was lost in Chloe Peterson’s tender embrace, seemingly forgetting all else. The trending actress had been frequently flaunting her happiness on social media: candlelit dinners, expensive jewelry, designer handbags… The backgrounds of her photos and videos were all too familiar—my marital home. There was even one photo where the reflection of a tall, imposing man preparing a late-night snack in the kitchen was visible on the glass window. That particular photo had delighted her fans for a long time, and it had left me stunned for equally as long. The man who wouldn’t even pour me a glass of water when I had a high fever was now willing to cook for another woman. A week later, on a Monday, the day of Sterling Corp.’s board meeting, I took the opportunity to return to the mansion. I quickly packed my bags, grabbed my documents, and headed downstairs, only to run straight into Julian, who had rushed back. Seeing the items in my hand, he let out a cold laugh, snatched my luggage, and flung it aside. I frowned at him. “What are you doing?” “Aurora Hayes, I should be asking you what you’re doing!” “Are you so childish that you’re still playing the ‘running away from home’ game?” “What’s your next move? Are you going to threaten suicide again, like before?” Julian’s brows furrowed, his face filled with disgust as he chastised me. “Why would I kill myself?” I scoffed, gripping the stair railing tightly. The old me truly wasn’t clear-headed enough. To win him back, I repeatedly used my life as a threat. But after living through my previous life, I understood that living was the most important thing. I never wanted to experience the despair of hitting rock bottom again. Moreover, a cold-hearted, unfeeling man like Julian was simply not worth my lingering affection. Julian sneered, his eyes filled with disdain. “What new trick are you pulling? I’m busy. I don’t have time for your drama.” “Those tactics of yours, they might work once or twice, but too many times, it’s just crying wolf.” I looked directly at Julian, explaining: “You’re overthinking it. I’m here to pack my things and move out.” “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” Julian, uncharacteristically, froze for a moment, then looked at me with increased impatience. “Divorce? You’re carrying a Sterling heir, and you’re bringing up divorce now? Do you think you can use this child to flaunt your status?” I didn’t respond to him. I carefully walked downstairs, from my bag, I pulled out the divorce papers I had prepared in advance and handed them to him. “Yes, I want a divorce.” “I don’t want anything from the Sterling family. I just want to separate from you.” Julian and I had been married for six years, but during those years, aside from the routine maintenance of this villa, he hadn’t spent any significant money on me. To outsiders, I was the glamorous Mrs. Sterling, but only I knew that every penny I spent came from my freelance online writing. Since I hadn’t spent Julian’s money during our marriage, I certainly had no desire for financial entanglement with him in a divorce. Julian quickly scanned the document, his expression unreadable, and set it aside. A scoff escaped his throat, its cold echo like an ice pick piercing my heart: “Leave with nothing? Aurora Hayes, are you thirty years old and still so naive?” He casually tossed the divorce papers onto the coffee table, then suddenly rose, looming over me, his shadow completely engulfing me: “Without the mighty Sterling family, do you think your father and brother can stand firm in the business world?” “After the divorce, how will your family sustain your current extravagant lifestyle?” I leaned back, avoiding his approach, the emotions swirling beneath my eyelashes solidifying into frost. I stubbornly pressed my lips together. “Julian, even if you use my family as leverage, you can’t trap me anymore.” As if stunned by the resolve in my eyes, Julian stepped back, his expression growing colder and harder. “Reason?” He paused, then conceded: “Because I brought someone home and made you uncomfortable? I apologize. This time it was my fault. I promise I won’t let them appear in front of you again.” My nails dug into my palms. For the first time, I laughed openly and defiantly. “No need, Julian.” “For these past six years, I’ve had enough of your emotional torment and abuse. I’ve had enough of daily waiting for a man whose heart was never truly with me.” I suddenly pulled off the only string of beads he had given me. The round beads clattered onto the carpet. “Even if it means my entire family has to work as dishwashers or sweep streets, I will never be your puppet again.” 3 Julian, unable to suppress his rage, slammed the door and left. I thought, given his proud nature, it wouldn’t take more than a few days for him to contact me to finalize the divorce papers, eager to sweep me out. To my surprise, the first call I received was from my mother. Her voice on the phone bubbled with delight: “Aurora, your husband just sent me the new season’s clothes and bags from the top luxury brands! He got your brother a new supercar, and even let your father develop that piece of land in the Southside!” “Your father, he’s so happy he can’t stop smiling. He keeps saying how much easier you make things for him, how you know how to keep the Sterling family’s golden goose happy.” “Aurora, you truly are capable! When I go out with those wealthy ladies now, who doesn’t flatter me on my good fortune, having such a wonderful daughter like you marrying into the Sterling family?” A wave of sadness washed over me. It turned out that my value as a “good daughter” was merely to marry into a rich family and appease my unloving husband for my family’s benefit. Forcing down my anger, I told my mother, “Don’t accept anything from Julian Sterling anymore. We’re getting a divorce.” I couldn’t hide my grievance, telling my mother that Julian didn’t love me, that he still resented me for driving away his idealized first love, and that he had been retaliating with a string of affairs all these years. My mother, however, was dismissive. “Don’t throw a tantrum. Julian holds a high and powerful position; it’s normal for a man like that to have a few women around.” “Just be more generous. Holding onto your position as Mrs. Sterling is what matters most!” “Besides, you have a child now. If it’s a boy, who can shake your position in the Sterling family? If it’s a girl, then you just try harder and get pregnant again soon.” My mother’s words left me sobbing. I questioned her, heartbroken: “Mom, just for the Hayes family’s prosperity, you forced me to marry Julian. Now you want me to use my child as a patch for our marriage?” “But Mom, I loved Julian for ten years. I really can’t accept him constantly being with other women!” I hung up the phone and went straight to Julian’s company. Seeing me, he showed no surprise, leaning casually back in his leather office chair, twirling a pen between his fingers. His dark tie made his eyes appear even more refined and cold. “Come to admit your mistake?” “This time, considering you’re pregnant, I’ll forgive you. Don’t bring up divorce again. Just go home and be a good Mrs. Sterling.” He pulled out a card and pushed it towards me. “There’s five million in it. It’s your compensation.” I didn’t take his card. I just looked at him calmly. “Julian, you don’t love me, you even detest me. Wouldn’t it be better if I willingly vacated the position of Mrs. Sterling now?” Julian’s eyebrows furrowed into sharp angles, his jawline tense, signaling suppressed rage. “Aurora Hayes, is this your new tactic to play hard to get?” “You don’t need to compete with other women out there. I can tell you clearly: after Ivy and I broke up, I won’t fall in love with anyone else, and no one can shake your position.” “You should understand that a respectful, non-interfering partnership is the best outcome for you and me. You don’t need to hope for love from me.” “If you have any other demands, you can make them.” His feigned concern sickened me. He played the role of a deeply devoted man who couldn’t forget his first love, while simultaneously entangled with various women. Like a clumsy actor, playing a charade of deep affection for so many years. I looked at Julian coldly, stating calmly, “No, thank you, Julian. I only want a divorce.” “That is my only request.” The air in the entire office solidified into ice. Julian’s obsidian eyes swirled with a cold, oppressive intensity. After a long moment, he picked up the divorce papers and quickly signed them. “Fine, as you wish, we’re divorced.” A wave of relief washed over me. I carefully put away the agreement. I smiled at him genuinely. “Julian, thank you.” Thank you for making me understand that a heart full of fervent love will ultimately become a sharp blade piercing one’s chest. 4 Leaving Sterling Corp., I headed straight to the prenatal clinic to schedule an abortion. The doctor repeatedly confirmed with me, “The child is already six months old and very healthy. Are you sure you want to proceed with the procedure?” My heart felt as if it were being pricked by countless tiny needles. I clenched my fingers, knuckles white from the effort. How could I bear to part with this child? But I absolutely would not give birth to a child destined to be used as leverage. Better a quick, painful end than prolonged agony. I signed the consent form for the surgery. The next morning. I arrived alone at the private hospital for the procedure. I ran into Julian, carefully escorting Chloe Peterson, whose abdomen was still flat. Seeing me, Julian seemed momentarily awkward, but his expression quickly returned to calm. He casually told me, “Go straight home after your check-up. You’re far along; don’t run around.” With that, he averted his gaze and, shielding Chloe, prepared to leave. But Chloe suddenly spoke in a sweet, cooing voice: “Honey, I left the vitamins I need to take every day in the car. Could you please fetch them for me?” Julian, suspecting nothing, affectionately stroked her hair and turned to leave. Chloe chuckled, walking closer to me: “What a coincidence, you’re here for a prenatal check-up too?” The word ‘too’ was subtly used. No wonder Julian agreed to the divorce so readily; he wanted to legitimize his outside relationship. But now, I no longer cared. I walked past Chloe, not intending to engage with her. She blocked my path, continuing her provocation: “Judging by the baby items you prepared at home, your baby is a girl, right?” “I already got a blood test in Hong Kong; it’s a boy.” “Oh, and that nursery you decorated, Julian said it’s for our son. You don’t mind, do you?” “And all those little girl dresses you bought, they take up too much space. They were an eyesore, so I burned them yesterday. You probably won’t need them anyway—” Her sweet, cunning smile made my eyes sting. Before she could finish, my palm had already connected sharply with her meticulously made-up face. Chloe stumbled, leaning on the wall to steady herself, her malicious eyes instantly brimming with tears. The next second— “Are you insane?!” Julian yanked my wrist with immense force. I staggered backward, my back slamming against the fire hydrant on the wall. The metal edges dug into my spine, making it numb. Intense pain exploded in a flash of white light before my eyes. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the ground, clutching my belly. Julian, however, didn’t spare a glance at my disheveled state. He carefully helped Chloe up, then turned to glare at me: “Aurora Hayes, you were the one who insisted on a divorce! What are you doing here now, competing for attention?” “Chloe is pregnant now. If anything happens to her, I’ll make your whole family pay!” “Julian.” I tried to stand, leaning on the wall, but the pain made my vision blur. “Control your trophy mistress—” Chloe suddenly began coughing violently, her pale fingertips clutching Julian’s sleeve: “Julian, I just wanted to ask about her health…” “You’ve been through too much,” Julian said, picking Chloe up. “Aurora Hayes, you’re free. Tomorrow morning at ten, we’ll finalize the paperwork at the registrar’s office.” His voice was cold as ice, not even sparing a glance for me, curled up against the wall. Just then, the piercing sound of the hospital’s public address system blared through the hallway: “Patient Aurora Hayes, Operating Room 2 is ready. Please proceed immediately for your procedure!” Julian naturally heard the announcement. He looked up at the name scrolling across the screen, his throat bobbed twice, his gaze instinctively flickered towards me. But in the end, he continued to carry Chloe away, fading into the distance. I got up, stumbling into the operating room, and signed the pre-surgical consent form. Lying on the operating table, the doctor confirmed with me again. “Ms. Hayes, the baby is already twenty-four weeks. It could survive if born now. Are you sure you want to terminate the pregnancy?” The fetus in my womb suddenly moved violently, as if protesting the impending separation. My nose ached, and tears finally fell uncontrollably, dripping onto the cold operating table. “I’m sure.” Just as the anesthetic was about to be injected into my veins, hurried footsteps suddenly echoed from the corridor outside…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392626”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My A-list actress wife, Seraphina Sterling, had always maintained strict boundaries: no man other than me was permitted to touch her. Even in group photos with male co-stars, she kept a discreet arm’s length. Until my birthday. That day, her new co-star, Sebastian Reed, posted an update. The photo showed Seraphina allowing Sebastian Reed to embrace her from behind, his arm circling her waist. The caption read: 【Eight years a fan, now sharing the screen with my idol? Manifest that dream, Sebastian Reed! Keep chasing your light (fist emoji)!】 I commented with a single question mark: 【Is that your wife you’re clutching onto?】 Seraphina’s call came through almost instantly. “My co-star, he’s like a little brother, just got carried away with the excitement of working with an idol. Don’t be so narrow-minded. Be a good husband, delete the comment.” The internet crowd swiftly condemned me for being overly possessive. Sebastian swiftly updated his post: 【The path to dreams is often paved with misunderstanding, but my guiding star reminds me not to lose heart.】 Watching the overwhelming wave of positive comments drown out any dissent, I made a call. By the next day, Sebastian’s lead role was gone. 1 “Do you know how important this role was to Sebastian? He prepared for two years just to nail that audition! And you, with some bogus charge, you’re just going to ruin all his hard work?!” This was Seraphina’s first real fight with me, and it was over a fresh face in Hollywood. I let out a cold laugh. “The power to greenlight or axe projects rests with me. Since I possess that power, why shouldn’t I use it?” This particular production held immense commercial potential. The director had secured Seraphina, an A-list actress, and had then brought me in as an investor. At least within the confines of this project, my word was law. Why would I forfeit my advantage, to “fairly compete” with some rookie who dared to post pictures embracing my wife? The internet mob might be unaware, but this young man, whose career I had funded and supported, knew exactly who my wife truly was. “Seraphina, listen closely.” I rose, cupping her face in my hands. “I am your husband. And while ours might be a marriage of convenience, that doesn’t mean you’re exempt from giving me even the most basic respect.” Besides, our union wasn’t entirely devoid of genuine emotion… “I told you, there’s genuinely nothing going on between us,” Seraphina insisted, pushing me away, a sharp, decisive gesture. “We’re playing a couple on screen. Am I not even allowed to act with him? Why do you always jump to the worst conclusions?” “Nothing at all?” I took out my phone and showed her the barrage of online comments. Under Sebastian’s post, countless netizens were wildly celebrating: 【Oh my gosh! That scene wasn’t in the script! His hand was practically wrapped around her waist! If that’s not love, what is?!】 【So sweet, I could die. Everyone knows Seraphina never lets men touch her, and Sebastian practically had her in his arms!】 【Rumors floated around that the A-list actress had a secret marriage. Thank god I didn’t fall for that!】 … Seraphina frowned. “The internet mob always twists things. You can’t take any of that seriously!” “And you, Seraphina?” I pressed, stepping closer. “You’ve navigated Hollywood for years. Are you really unaware of the impact that post would have?” She faltered. I let out a cold laugh. “You knew exactly how people would interpret that, you knew I had a possessive streak, yet you let it happen!” “Julian Thorne, for such a trivial matter, are you really going to be this unreasonable?!” CRASH! The vase shattered on the floor. Seraphina looked at me, startled. “Why do you get to define my ‘trivial matters’?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. For five years, we had lived in respectful harmony. Though our union began as a business arrangement, countless moments of shared intimacy had forged a genuine bond over time. She had even told me she only allowed me to touch her. This was our first real fight, the first time I’d ever laid a hand on her. All because of a boy I’d once sponsored. “Just calm down,” Seraphina snapped, snatching her bag, and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her with a sickening thud. In the living room, my birthday cake sat on the coffee table, still untouched, its box pristine. 2 The very next day, a new trending topic exploded online: Seraphina Sterling walked off the set. Trolls mocked me mercilessly: 【Seriously, though. That leech thinks he’s so rich he can just axe Sebastian? The A-list actress just put her foot down and walked off!】 【Who does he think he is, anyway, hahaha!】 【Does this confirm it? Seraphina and Sebastian are actually a thing?!】 【Still asking? Seraphina never lets men touch her, and Sebastian practically had her in his arms! I’m melting…】 The entire internet condemned me. Due to the nature of our arranged marriage, our families had agreed to keep our union private. This led many netizens to mistakenly believe I was Seraphina’s “delusional fan,” even dragging my name through the mud on social media for days. Each time, Seraphina had them taken down. But I knew her true colors—this was her defiant way of showing me. The director called me, practically in tears, begging me to persuade Seraphina to return. But honestly, I had no idea where she was. She’d vanished after her announcement, wouldn’t even pick up my calls. Just then, my phone buzzed. Sebastian had a new post. In the photo, he was perched in a helicopter, sunglasses on, a skydiving pack strapped to his back, his hand firmly clasped with another. Seraphina, who typically shunned extreme sports, had a faint smile playing on her lips. Her gaze wasn’t on the camera, but on Sebastian. The caption read: 【They say hearts beat truer under pressure. Will my guiding light feel the same pulse for me, in this very moment?】 I replied to the director. “Sebastian just posted something. The photo should give you a clue where he is.” “Huh? Mr. Thorne… no, he hasn’t.” “What?” My mind went blank. The director sent a screenshot. Sebastian’s last public post was three days ago. I quickly messaged a few mutual friends. Sure enough, only I could see that particular post. Sebastian had set it to “viewable only by me”… Seraphina couldn’t possibly be unaware of the photo’s implication. Yet she simply smiled at him, letting him capture the moment. It was a deliberate provocation from both of them. Two years prior, I could have just cut off his sponsorship allowance. But now he was self-sufficient, and my financial backing had shifted to resource allocation, which was no longer effective in controlling him. My assistant cautiously asked, “Mr. Thorne, are you… alright?” “Of course.” I let out a cold, dismissive laugh. In business, taking a hit or being double-crossed was just part of the game. If I couldn’t handle that, I wouldn’t be where I am today. The director was still wailing on the phone. My brow furrowed. “Alright! Enough dramatics. This afternoon, I’ll personally bring you the new lead!” 3 After a week of playing hide-and-seek, Seraphina finally deigned to return. But what greeted her was not a frantic production team and a hysterical me. Instead, she found a set already in full swing, and a young woman meticulously attending to me. The director, beaming, rushed to my side. “Thank god, Mr. Thorne, for finding such a perfect fit! Otherwise, this whole production would have gone down the drain!” Seraphina saw Willow Greene delicately lighting my cigarette. In a flash, she snatched the cigarette from my lips and flung it to the ground. “Julian Thorne.” I merely glanced up. Trailing behind her was Sebastian. Seeing another woman by my side, a flicker of triumph, quickly masked, entered his eyes. “Yes?” I replied with a detached air, gesturing for Willow to bring me another drink. Seraphina’s temple pulsed. “What do you mean ‘yes’? Shouldn’t you be explaining yourself?!” “Explain what?” I asked, a genuine question. “When two leads abandon a project, I naturally have to find replacements.” “Do new actors need you to personally supervise them?! Where do you find the time for that?!” Seraphina, her face ablaze with anger, pointed accusingly at Willow. Willow recoiled two steps. I moved to shield her. “Don’t frighten her. She’s new to the industry; she needs guidance.” “Heh…” Seraphina looked as if she hadn’t heard me right. “Guidance from you? Julian Thorne, what kind of impression do you think this gives others?” My patience wore thin. “I sponsored her career. What’s wrong with me teaching her?!” “Sponsored?” Seraphina froze. Seeing Willow cower behind me, her anger flared. “Does sponsorship require such… intimate service? Are you truly blind to her intentions?!” “Mr. Thorne, I didn’t…” Willow quickly tried to explain to me. I smiled reassuringly at her, nodding slightly. Then I turned, frowning at Seraphina. “I sponsor her, and she’s kind to me. Is that not normal? Or are you expecting everyone to be like the man behind you—accepting my patronage, getting promoted to a major production, then openly posting pictures embracing my wife?” Seraphina and Sebastian froze, as if struck by lightning. Seraphina cast a complex, unreadable glance at Sebastian. “You… sponsored him?” Willow spoke up. “Mr. Thorne has sponsored many talented individuals, not just me and Sebastian.” “Shut up!” Seraphina glared fiercely at Willow. I pulled Willow firmly behind me. “I told you, don’t bully my people!” Seraphina was not one to make a scene in public. Even at her breaking point, she still suppressed her fury, then took Sebastian by the arm and walked away, leading him out of my sight. That evening, I returned home. The first thing I saw was Seraphina, her eyes distinctly red-rimmed. I frowned. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” “Julian.” Her voice was a little rough. “I was wrong. Let’s make peace.” 4 I hadn’t expected such a drastic shift in Seraphina. “Why the sudden change of heart?” “Seeing you with Willow today… it made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. But there’s genuinely nothing going on between us.” “I know, and I believe you.” She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. “But it was enough to drive me insane. I imagine that’s how you felt, watching me and Sebastian. I’m so sorry, I was completely out of line before.” I opened her phone. It was Sebastian’s message history. He was still relentlessly messaging her. 【Seraphina? Why suddenly ghost me? We had so much fun out there, didn’t we?】 【??? Answer me! Seraphina! Did Julian say something to you? I swear, I only see you as an idol, a beacon of inspiration!】 【Seraphina, you have to believe me. I’ve been your fan for eight years; you’re my guiding light. I would never do anything to jeopardize your marriage… please, just talk to me…】 … Messages continued to pop up. Seraphina snatched the phone back and instantly blocked him. The phone finally fell silent. “I’m so sorry…” She tentatively moved closer to me. When I didn’t pull away, she gently embraced me. “I just wanted to get a reaction from you, to needle you. It wasn’t until I stood in your shoes, watching you and another woman, that I truly understood how much I hurt you… Julian.” She looked up, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Can we please stop fighting?” “Okay.” This marriage was, at its core, a business arrangement. I wouldn’t sever it lightly. Besides, it wasn’t entirely devoid of emotional connection. This whole incident was simply a matter of her being misguided. Ultimately, the damage wasn’t irreparable. I had only intended to teach her a lesson. A harsh lesson learned, a goal achieved. No need to make a bigger mess than necessary. The very next day, chaos erupted on set. Sebastian returned to the set, blocking my path, his eyes red-rimmed as if he’d cried all night. “I know it was you. Why can’t you believe I’m just a genuine fan pursuing an idol? Do you really believe everyone who gets close to her has ulterior motives?” He finished, then pulled a knife from his sleeve. Willow gasped, attempting to push me out of the way. But he plunged it into his own wrist. Blood welled up, spilling onto the ground, painting a crimson stain. Everyone froze, horror-struck. He held up his bleeding wrist, looking at me with an expression of profound grievance and long-suffering. “Is this enough to prove my innocence, Mr. Thorne?” “Call an ambulance. Don’t let him die on my set.” I turned, my voice calm, giving the order. My eyes met Seraphina’s. She had appeared, silent, at some point. “Seraphina!” Sebastian’s eyes flared with hope. I frowned, watching Seraphina. She cast a cool, dismissive glance at Sebastian. “It was my decision. Don’t bother him again.” Sebastian’s face was a mask of utter disbelief. Seraphina stepped between me and Willow, a deliberate barrier. She took my hand and led me away. She didn’t even spare Sebastian a backward glance. 5 Sebastian became an overnight joke. He had intended to create a scene, to humiliate me. But instead, Seraphina had completely shut him down. After returning home, Seraphina publicly announced our marriage. Sebastian was instantly roasted by the entire internet. He had only reached the spotlight through my patronage. Without my backing, even low-budget web series wouldn’t touch him. What did that have to do with me? He dug his own grave. If he had been half as compliant as Willow, I wouldn’t have abandoned him. Lately, however, Seraphina had often been seen frowning at her phone. She had indeed severed all contact with Sebastian. When she wasn’t looking, I discreetly peeked. It was a mutual friend. They had sent a series of photos and screenshots of Sebastian’s social media posts. In every picture, Sebastian was disheveled, working on small, obscure sets. His eyes would be red-rimmed as he endured verbal abuse. After filming, he would kneel on the ground to scrub the floors. Big-name actors would slap him across the face without hesitation. Another screenshot of his social media read: 【No matter the disgrace, my guiding light taught me not to surrender. Keep moving forward, and hope will always appear.】 The last message in the chat was Seraphina’s: 【Don’t send me these anymore.】 I allowed myself a faint smile. Seems the lesson had taken root. As a reward, the very next day, I visited Seraphina on her set. I even personally cooked her favorite ribs soup. The moment I arrived, Seraphina, her eyes red, confronted me. “Why would you do something like this?” “What?” “Don’t pretend you don’t know!” She swiped her hand, sending the thermal lunchbox I carried flying. It made me stumble. Scalding ribs soup splashed onto my hand and chest, instantly blooming into an angry red rash. “Mr. Thorne!” My assistant cried out, rushing forward. “Ms. Sterling! Mr. Thorne is injured!” “It’s just a little scald, hardly as severe as Sebastian’s injuries!” With that, she yanked a disheveled, dusty young man towards her. 6 I hadn’t expected Sebastian Reed to be an extra on Seraphina’s set. The filming was kept under wraps; most people shouldn’t have known about it. It clicked. Just half an hour before my arrival, Seraphina had stumbled upon Sebastian, acting as a stunt double. He was thrown onto a rooftop, tumbling down, again and again. The director was never satisfied. Thus, he would violently throw himself onto the rooftop, over and over. Seraphina initially had no intention of intervening. But when she saw Sebastian, covered in bruises, still gritting his teeth and throwing himself into the stunt, a wave of empathy washed over her. She remembered her own days as an extra. Those days, repeatedly throwing her body until her bones felt like they were shattering, enduring endless verbal abuse from directors, only to throw herself again and again—it was a past she could never bear to revisit. So she stepped in front of Sebastian, demanding to know whose idea this brutal sequence was. The director, terrified, didn’t dare breathe a word. Seraphina pointed a cold, accusing finger at my name on the investor list. “You don’t have to say it. I know. Julian Thorne, do minor actors deserve this fate?” Now, Seraphina stood over me, looking down, shielding Sebastian securely behind her. “I’ve given you more than enough love and respect. Why must you persist in destroying him completely?” My assistant grew frantic. “Ms. Sterling! Mr. Thorne never…” “Don’t explain!” I pressed a hand on my assistant, enduring the pain, and stood up, looking at her with cold eyes. “If you believe it’s me, then let it be.” Sebastian’s eyes lit up, and he quickly looked at Seraphina. Seraphina’s brow twitched, she let out a cold scoff, then took Sebastian by the arm and walked away. My assistant was frantic. “Mr. Thorne! You didn’t do anything! Why didn’t you explain?!” “Explain?” I let out a cold laugh. “Does she even deserve an explanation?” The director tormenting Sebastian due to his personal biases wasn’t Sebastian’s fault. But Seraphina, without even asking me a single question, instinctively pushed the blame onto me because of a name on an investor list. This showed that she didn’t truly respect me. Explanations often make some people think you’re trying to curry favor. And I wasn’t about to grovel for someone like her. 7 That very day, I became a trending topic, and not in a good way. A mysterious source leaked Sebastian’s stunt double footage, along with a video of Seraphina publicly confronting me on set. The internet erupted in outrage. 【Who does he think he is?! Don’t extras deserve to live?!】 【Seeing this, my heart aches for stunt actors. Honestly, the third take was probably fine, but the director made him do it a dozen more times. Must have been Thorne’s idea.】 【I’m crying, my hands are shaking! What’s the difference between this and attempted murder?!】 The poster was untraceable, but I knew. It was Seraphina’s tacit approval. Only my wife would dare to post such content without fear of my reprisal. When Seraphina returned home, I was already sitting on the sofa, silent. Half an hour later, she finally broke the silence. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” “Yes.” Her expression softened slightly. I slid the divorce papers across the table. “Sign it. All joint marital assets will be split equally. The marriage will be annulled, but it won’t affect the ongoing collaborations between our families.” “You want to divorce me?!” I nodded. “Why?” She moved closer to me. “Don’t tell me it’s because of such a trivial matter!” “Precisely because of this trivial matter.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392643”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel