Category: English

1 Five years of recovery, five years cloistered away, and the moment I was discharged, I pulled every string, twisted every arm, to marry James Osmond—the man I’d secretly adored for years. On our wedding night, his voice was a whip-crack, cold and cutting: “I’m in love with someone else. Don’t expect anything from me.” “This marriage is a business deal, pure and simple. Don’t cross the line.” But one night, he was drowning in liquor, and in his drunken haze, he mistook me for his dearly departed love, Minnie. His eyes, bloodshot and brimming, pressed me against the wall, kissing me with a feverish intensity that stole my breath. We were entangled all night. The morning after, he was nearly throttling me. “Trying to mimic her while I’m drunk? You’re not worthy!” Later, my old illness flared up, and I was wheeled into his private hospital room. The walls were covered in paintings, every single one his work. The woman in the portraits was me, during my sickness. Back then, my hormones were out of whack, my body bloated, my face marred by angry red splotches. A world away from the carefully maintained, slimmer, more attractive woman I am now. … “How could you be so cruel? Not even letting me see you one last time?” James’s hot breath, thick with the scent of whiskey, whispered those words into my ear. And I knew, with a sickening lurch, that I was once again shamelessly stealing the tenderness meant for someone else. James’s chiseled features softened, inch by inch, his gaze burning with an intensity that startled me. My body, held gently by him, stiffened. A chill ran through me, as if I’d plunged into an icy abyss. Yet my heart hammered a frantic rhythm. “I’m not…” I shook my head, a frantic, helpless gesture. But as I tried to pull away, my knee gave a sudden, agonizing jolt. The familiar, searing pain shot through me, tearing a jagged rift in the fragile illusion of warmth. My face went pale, and I instinctively bit my lower lip. He, however, seemed utterly heartbroken, his voice tinged with a mournful whine. “I finally dreamed of you, and you’re pushing me away?” And as if terrified I might confirm it, he pleaded, his voice hoarse with desperation. “I’m not mad anymore, just don’t leave me.” His nostrils flared, and his eyes, glistening with unshed tears, glowed in the dim light, fixed on me with a pitiful, vulnerable plea. My heart clenched, a bitter ache spreading through me. I knew his gaze saw through me to another, yet I, despicable as I was, felt a traitorous flutter. A deluge of kisses, wet with tears, rained down on me, scorching and desperate. Every inch of his invasion, coupled with the pain in my leg, left me helpless yet consumed, clinging tightly to his shoulders. As if only through this fleeting fantasy could I brave the certain chill of tomorrow. The next morning, before the sun had fully risen, I was jolted awake by a familiar, searing ache. Every joint in my body felt like it had been wrenched apart by the previous night’s tempestuous encounter, now screaming with retaliatory agony. My hand trembled as I fumbled under the bed, searching for the hidden compartment where I kept my hormone medication. The coldness of the bottle made my fingertips twitch, nearly dropping the pills. This morning tremor, this weakness, was the permanent mark Lupus had etched into my being. Seven years. This incurable, chronic autoimmune disease was like my emotions: only suppressed and controlled, never truly free. I swallowed the pills dry, pressing my hand fiercely against the worst of the throbbing in my knee. Only when the excruciating pain subsided into a tolerable dull ache did I finally breathe a sigh of relief, cautiously curling back into his embrace. My eyes greedily traced his brow, his nose, to his slightly reddened lips. Four years. It had been four long years since I could look at him like this again. Those four years hadn’t etched a single line on his face; instead, they’d refined the breathtaking softness of his youth, transforming it into a potent, mature intensity. The sliver of stolen tenderness was now laced with an overwhelming sadness. Tears welled up, unbidden, and I quickly wiped them away, terrified of shattering this fragile dream. “Had enough looking?” His voice, crisp and cool, held a hint of annoyance. My heart leaped. I instinctively clapped a hand over my nose, then, realizing the red blotches that once plagued it had long vanished, I sheepishly lowered my hand. The next second, his hand clamped down on mine, viciously, so tightly my wrist began to ache. I looked up, only to fall into the frigid depths of his eyes, seething with anger. “Trying to mimic her while I’m drunk? You’re not worthy!” “Spending so much effort to climb into my bed – you don’t feel ashamed? I find it disgusting.” He flung my hand away in disgust, and I stumbled, losing my balance, crashing into the bedside table. A jolt of pain shot through my left shoulder, leaving it numb. My eyes, betraying me, welled up. He stood, dressing, then looked down at me, his voice sharp and unyielding. “Make an appointment to get checked. You’re not fit to carry my child.” “If this happens again, I won’t hesitate to bankrupt your family and send them to prison.” The door slammed shut with a bang. 2 The tender warmth of last night’s drunken embrace was shattered by his contempt. His words, iced and sharp, felt like countless tiny ice picks, piercing deep into my joints, triggering waves of throbbing pain that threatened to dismember me. After he left, I curled up on the floor alone, taking a long time to slowly regain the strength to support my body. I struggled to the wall, leaning against it, holding my breath as I stepped onto the scale. In the weak morning light, I felt the slightly slack skin around my waist. In the mirror, I pressed hard against my cheeks. As if, with enough pressure, I could peel back the smooth skin and glimpse the ugly red blotches from years ago. A shift in the light, and the faint redness in the mirror vanished. I was so much thinner, so much prettier than back then, yet still, I couldn’t catch his eye. I blinked, forcing back the burning in my eyes, and irritably tossed the hormone medicine bottle back into the depths beneath the bed. James hadn’t come home for days. I stared at the steaming dishes on the table, watching the heat slowly dissipate, a hollow ache spreading in my chest. “Mr. Osmond is busy with a new medical acquisition, Mrs. Osmond. Perhaps you shouldn’t wait up?” Liam, his secretary, came to pick up some documents. Seeing me lost in thought at the dining table, he finally couldn’t help but offer a word of advice. I slowly turned my head, habitually clasping my left wrist, my voice a little shaky. “She… did she pass away from illness?” Liam looked uncomfortable. “Please don’t put me in a difficult position, Mrs. Osmond.” I lowered my head, not pressing further. His deceased beloved was his biggest taboo—unquestionable, unexplorable. Ever since James’s marriage to me, with the help of the Sterling family, he had completely shifted the group’s focus to medical equipment and biopharmaceuticals. Even if he didn’t say it, anyone could see his obsession and guilt regarding his lost love. “I’ve been simmering this chicken soup for ages. I’ll come to the office with you.” Years ago, whenever he visited me at the hospital, he would bring a bowl of chicken soup if he had time. Made with ginseng and astragalus, it was a little bitter. Now that I was making it myself, I realized how much effort it took. The chicken had to be plucked, gutted, blanched to remove impurities, then simmered over low heat for two or three hours, never leaving its side. I wondered how he managed to do all that while attending classes. Now that I could get up and cook, I wanted him to taste it. I also just wanted to see him. Liam hesitated several times, but eventually let me into the car. At the office, Liam swiped me into the elevator, then rushed off to the conference room, clutching his documents. The moment the elevator doors opened, a bright, captivating figure seared my vision. The woman wore a perfectly tailored red strapless gown, her skin like snow, her figure graceful, as she spoke softly to someone nearby, a smile playing on her lips. Hearing the movement, she turned her head slightly and our eyes met. My breath hitched. It was Scarlett Rivers. I would never mistake her. Years ago, when James volunteered at the hospital, she would always follow him, wearing pretty dresses, her laughter clear and bright. Her affection was radiant and bold, her pursuit uninhibited and frank. A stark contrast to me, then, swollen with hormones due to my severe illness, my face covered in red blotches, lying in bed, feeling utterly mortified. “Hello? Are you looking for Mr. Osmond?” She smiled gently, her gaze sweeping over my slightly oversized top and dull, yellowish hair, her tone still perfectly polite. I stood frozen, my fingers unconsciously curling, tightening around the handle of the insulated container. “I… came to drop something off.” “Oh, I see.” She nodded understandingly, her voice still soft, but with a natural, almost proprietorial air. “Mr. Osmond is still in a meeting. You might have to wait a while.” Her gaze returned to my face, as if she suddenly remembered something, and the corners of her lips curved into a perfectly appropriate smile. “Oh, forgive me, I got carried away talking.” “There’s a gala tonight, and Mr. Osmond has high standards for his date. We couldn’t find anyone more suitable on such short notice, so I’m stepping in as a temporary replacement. This outfit is also just put on; I hope it’s not too inappropriate.” Date. High standards. Temporary replacement. These words, like tiny needles, pricked at the most vulnerable spot in my heart. 3 A familiar, dull ache, triggered by emotional turmoil, spread from deep within my knee. I instinctively took half a step back, my spine pressing against the cold wall just to stay upright. The moment I averted my gaze, I suddenly caught my reflection in the nearby floor-to-ceiling window. My face was pale, my oversized top barely concealing my slightly rounded stomach, a result of the hormones. My hair was loosely tied back, dry and yellowish. It was a laughable, tragic contrast to the radiant Scarlett Rivers before me. In that instant, my indignation deflated, and my sense of grievance lost its foundation. Yes, of course. Wasn’t it only natural that he would choose to bring her? What right did I have to feel wronged? I stared blankly out the window as night fell, the streetlights a blur of endless traffic. A car emerged from the distant darkness, then gradually disappeared into the deeper night. The world seemed muted, pressed into silence, leaving only the blurry reflection on the glass, an expression I hadn’t even realized was there – a blankness, a fragile intensity born of pain. When I looked back, James had appeared, standing not far away. He watched me, his eyes swirling with an emotion I couldn’t decipher, a profound sadness. But the moment I looked back, bewildered, a startled shock flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by icy anger. His probing gaze locked onto me again, his eyes as cold and deep as a dark pool. “Is Sterling Enterprises so powerful that you even investigated her habits and expressions?” “Or do you think climbing into my bed changed your status?” I panicked, suddenly straightening up, the sharp pain in my knee causing me to stumble for a moment. I hurriedly clutched the chicken soup, stammering an explanation: “No, no, I didn’t investigate.” “I just cooked some chicken soup for you, wanted to bring it for you to taste.” “It simmered for two hours…” Under his cold, disdainful stare, my voice trembled, eventually trailing off into a meek silence. He sneered, his tone laced with ice. “Hah, chicken soup?” “Then why, of all things, did you choose to bring me chicken soup?” “I’m sorry, I, I didn’t know you and her, I just, I just…” I was flustered, words stuck in my throat. Just what? That I’m thinner and prettier now, so I want to pursue you again? But even with my illness controlled, I was only better-looking than before. Could I ever compare to the woman who held his heart? I silently closed my mouth, lowering my eyes, not daring to look at him. He strode closer, the silent pressure instantly filling the air around us. His nostrils flared almost imperceptibly, his voice suddenly dropping, laced with an incredulous, furious rage: “You even found out the exact brand of shower gel she liked?!” “I didn’t! I don’t know…” I was frantic and incoherent, my left wrist starting to throb and tremble with nerves. “The one at home ran out, I just bought whatever was handy…” “Silence!” He almost roared, his jawline taut, his eyes swirling with extreme sorrow and pain. “You are not worthy to speak of her!” “And you are not to investigate her!” “And you are certainly not to imitate her!” “I told you, what we have is just a transaction!” “You’re to discreetly uphold the title of ‘Mrs. Osmond,’ who gave you the audacity to desecrate her like this?!” I’d been married to him for two years, and though he disliked me, he’d always been distant and polite. His furious reprimand felt like the final straw, breaking my already taut nerves. My heart felt as if it had been seized, a violent pain exploding and spreading. My left wrist suddenly gave way, unable to hold the insulated container. The scalding chicken soup splashed onto the floor, splattering my calves, stinging with a searing burn. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I knelt awkwardly, my right hand pressing fiercely against my uncontrollably trembling left wrist. Tears streamed down my face, silently, like a broken dam. Apologizing for repeatedly intruding on his raw, bleeding wound. Apologizing even more for this infatuation and insistence that was destined to be futile. My voice caught in a sob, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “I’ll clean it up.” He looked at my huddled, trembling figure, a flicker of something complex in his eyes, but it was quickly masked by an even deeper coldness. He bent down, stopping me from reaching for the spilled container. His eyes held a mix of weariness and disgust. “What exactly are you doing now, looking like this?” His voice had regained its calm, but it was even more cutting. “Trying to win my sympathy?” I bit down hard on my lower lip, shaking my head desperately, but choked too much to make a sound. “You better not be.” 4 Scarlett quietly approached, her face a picture of perfectly calibrated concern with a hint of awkwardness: “Mr. Osmond, we need to leave for the gala.” He flung my hand away, coldly dropping a command: “Have Liam take her home.” “And from now on, don’t let her up here without my permission.” “Understood.” Scarlett replied respectfully, her gaze at me filled with a hint of mockery and taunt. In the news conferences that followed in the next few days, Osmond Industries once again successfully expanded its footprint in the medical field. And always behind him, you could see that dazzling figure. Scarlett Rivers, smiling brightly, her demeanor poised, handled every challenging question from the media. A bold reporter pushed to the front, asking sharply: “Rumor has it you’ve been married to the Sterling heiress for years, yet recently you’ve been attending galas with your assistant. Does this confirm the rumors of your marital discord?” Scarlett tried to intervene, but James raised a hand to stop her. His eyes darkened slightly, his cold gaze fixed on the camera: “It’s true that the Sterling heiress and I are incompatible. We’ve decided to divorce.” His tone was calm and resolute, yet every word was a knife plunging into my heart. The knitting needles for the scarf in my hands tangled, and a needle sharply pricked my fingertip. A bead of blood instantly welled up, staining the yarn. But I was lost in a daze, staring at the screen. Not until the night swallowed the last ray of twilight did I quietly put away my knitting. Silently waiting for him to come home, for the final declaration. That wait stretched for three months. Initially, I just felt unusually tired and drowsy, often falling asleep on the sofa without warning. My body became alternately hot and cold, and my limbs and cheeks began to swell, leaving deep indentations when pressed. What terrified me most was the reappearance of the familiar, butterfly-shaped red rash on my face, growing more vivid by the day. The appearance I had so painstakingly maintained was visibly crumbling, reverting to my most mortifying state from years ago. I frantically rummaged under the bed for my pills, attempting to belatedly control it. But my body felt out of control, plummeting towards an abyss. My joints became unbearably swollen and painful; I couldn’t even hold a water glass. Until one morning, a wave of nausea struck without warning. I rushed to the bathroom, vomiting until I was dizzy, seeing stars. The nausea and dry heaving became more frequent. I often spent entire nights hunched over the toilet. Not from vomiting, but because my joints were so severely swollen and painful that I couldn’t find the strength to even lean against the wall. It wasn’t until my abdomen visibly rounded and my period was long overdue that I belatedly realized. I might be… pregnant. A tidal wave of panic overwhelmed me. This child was coming at the worst possible time. And I couldn’t bear another round of pain and humiliation. I realized that for the sake of the baby, I had to escape! I gritted my teeth, enduring the pain as I packed my luggage. I staggered as I pushed open the door, only to come face to face with James, who had finally returned from his business trip. He looked travel-worn, his eyes pausing, a flicker of confusion. Then those probing eyes sharpened, locking onto mine. I flinched, my heart threatening to leap from my chest, but I quickly calmed myself. I was two sizes larger than three months ago, bloated and almost back to my former state. My face was also wrapped in a thick scarf, revealing only my eyes, so he shouldn’t recognize me. I lowered my head, silently quickening my pace, trying to slip past him. But he suddenly grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. His usually stern voice was now hoarse and broken, even tinged with an unbelievable euphoria and a careful, pleading tone: “Is that you? Violet?” “You’re not dead, are you? You’ve finally come to find me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439052”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After the premiere, I realized my girlfriend, Chelsea, was gone. I searched the whole venue with a glass of champagne in hand, finally hearing her on the phone in the fire escape. She was saying that the film was custom-made for her, guaranteed to win her the Best Actress award. She also mentioned that she’d reveal the person’s identity during the Best Actress nominations next month. And she specifically stated that tomorrow she would sign a contract for the next project with them, believing that once the contract was secure, they wouldn’t dare cause trouble. I leaned against the wall, listening to the entire conversation. It was then I understood. I was just her stepping stone, a director with resources who didn’t even demand a salary. The next day, she sent a playful voice message as usual, asking if I’d finished writing the script for her next movie. I compiled all the breach of contract clauses from her business agreements into a PDF, added that recording, and sent it to her talent agency. After that, I sent her a text. 1 Less than ten minutes later, Chelsea burst through the door. Her voice was frantic. “Kris, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” I scoffed. “I really didn’t know you were capable of two-timing me while we were supposedly in a relationship.” Chelsea and I went to the same university. I directed a film in my freshman year that instantly hit big, turning me into a prodigy director. Chelsea, though pretty, wasn’t particularly outstanding in the sea of beauties at the film academy. I didn’t know her back then. In my junior year, I was at the library gathering material when it suddenly started raining. She offered me an umbrella. “Mr. Thorne, please take my umbrella.” I was aloof with everyone back then and took a step back. “No, thank you.” Chelsea smiled. “Mr. Thorne, you’re quite famous on campus; of course, I wanted to meet you.” “But to get to know you, and even help you, I think that’s rather nice.” She pointed to the camera on my body. My life had always been full of pretense, and it was the first time I’d encountered someone so genuine. Before long, we knew each other. A year ago, Chelsea pulled me close. “Kris, I know I’m not good enough for you, but I really like you.” At that time, I also had a soft spot for her, pretty and sweet as she was, and accepted her confession. Later, knowing she wanted to be a big star, I personally wrote three scripts for her. As expected, her first film was an instant hit. Now, her second film was a box office smash. Unless something went wrong, she would be nominated for Best Actress in a month, becoming the youngest Best Actress ever. But I never imagined what happened yesterday would occur. Chelsea’s face was pale. She grabbed my hand. “Kris, let me explain.” “He’s like an older brother from my hometown. If it weren’t for him, I might not have even gone to college. He’s my benefactor.” I shook off his hand. “And? What does that have to do with me?” She looked at me with a hint of judgment. “You’ve been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, getting whatever you want. Of course, you don’t understand the struggles of people like us from the lower class.” “If I can become Best Actress, he can leverage my name to stay in this industry and get decent opportunities.” “Since I’m with you, I definitely intend to marry you. I’m just helping him out. You’re a man, why are you so petty?” Her words struck me as utterly ridiculous. She was my girlfriend, planning to announce she was with another man. Everyone in the industry knew about our relationship. She was essentially trampling my reputation underfoot. And now she was accusing me of being petty. I scoffed, shaking off her hand. “I don’t want to argue with you. Let’s break up.” 2 “And as for the script for the third film, you can forget about it.” “I’ll find someone suitable.” I didn’t want to look at her anymore and turned to leave. Chelsea suddenly sneered. “Don’t even think about it. The female lead for your third film will definitely be me.” I frowned and looked at her. She pulled out her phone and waved it in front of me. “Your company has already signed a contract with mine. Are you trying to breach it?” I suddenly remembered. Today was the day to renew the contract for Chelsea’s third film. I should have called the company to tell them not to renew. But Chelsea’s sudden arrival had disrupted my plans. I gritted my teeth. “Fine. I’ll pay the penalty.” No matter what, I couldn’t stand being around someone like her. Chelsea chuckled. “Don’t bother. Both companies have already made official announcements. If you unilaterally breach the contract now, what do you think the netizens will say?” “I’m not an unknown actress anymore. Now I’m a front-runner for Best Actress.” Chelsea’s eyes gleamed with triumph. Her expression made her seem like a stranger to me. I felt as if I had never truly known her. My chest felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer. I had been genuine with her; otherwise, I wouldn’t have used every resource to pave her way. The door was pushed open again from the outside. Kevin Stone walked in, wrapping an arm around Chelsea’s waist right in front of me. “Director Thorne, you once refused to cast me in your films. I bet you never thought you’d become my stepping stone, did you?” Seeing his face, I suddenly remembered five years ago. That was my first film. Kevin was an investor’s pick, shoved into the cast. Initially, I tried to tolerate him out of respect for the investor. But his acting was simply abysmal. I’d rather forgo the investor’s funding than let him ruin my character. Later, I replaced him with a new actor. That new actor became a sensation in the film, instantly rising to become an A-list star. I never expected Kevin Stone to be Chelsea’s boyfriend. My gaze fell on Chelsea. “So, you’re not hiding it anymore?” Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “Eventually everyone will know Kevin is my boyfriend. Knowing sooner or later makes no difference.” “Besides, I’m a Best Actress, an actress, not an idol. I’m allowed to date.” I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. “You’re that confident you’ll win Best Actress?” Chelsea straightened her back. “The impact of my two films isn’t just national, it’s global. In the entire industry, no one can snatch it from me. If not me, then who?” “Even if you tried to rig it, my fans would see it as a conspiracy and wouldn’t stand for it.” Kevin chuckled. “Director Thorne, thank you for paving the way for us. When we reach the top, we’ll definitely remember your generosity.” Chelsea looked at me. “Don’t worry, I won’t break my promise. I’ll still marry you.” I just felt disgusted. My fists clenched tightly. She thinks she’s guaranteed Best Actress, doesn’t she? Well, we’ll see about that. 3 Early the next morning, before dawn, I left my place. When my car pulled up outside Scarlett Reed’s apartment, I cut the engine and sat there for a while. I couldn’t put my finger on the feeling, just a knot of frustration in my chest that I couldn’t seem to release. I went upstairs and knocked on her door. Scarlett opened the door in her pajamas, her hair a mess. The moment she saw me, she froze. “What are you doing here?” She instinctively took half a step back, a hint of awkwardness in her eyes. She was actually the female lead in my first film. Later, when her career was booming, she confessed her feelings for me. But I had already met Chelsea by then and turned her down. Since then, Scarlett had kept a low profile, rarely taking on acting roles. But I knew she was incredibly talented. And she had a huge fanbase; whenever she appeared, audiences would respond. There was another very important thing. There was still a film we co-produced that hadn’t been released yet. I didn’t beat around the bush. “Scarlett, I need your help.” Her expression shifted several times, finally leaning against the doorframe, looking at me with complicated eyes. After about ten or fifteen seconds of silence, she stepped aside, letting me in. “Come in and talk.” When I left, she stood at the doorway watching me go. She didn’t say anything, but I knew she would help me. Not because she was generous, but because some debts, sooner or later, had to be settled. Chelsea said no one could be her competitor, didn’t she? But she forgot. It was she, Chelsea, who had brutally pushed Scarlett out of the Best Actress spot back then. She’d sat on that throne for too long. It was time to repay the debt. I got home around two in the afternoon. As I pushed open the door, I saw Kevin Stone wearing my pajamas, holding Chelsea, his head buried in her neck. I frowned. “What are you two doing?” Seeing me, Chelsea calmly adjusted her clothes. “You’re back?” “We were just rehearsing. In the next project, we’re playing a couple. You’re a director yourself, you know this is perfectly normal in our line of work.” Kevin looked at me with blatant provocation. I suppressed the rage burning in my chest. “You two dogs, get out of my house!” Chelsea stared at me. “Do you have to make things so ugly?” I gritted my teeth. “Get out!” But Chelsea picked up a property deed from the table and tossed it at my feet. “This is my house. You’re the one who needs to leave!” I looked at the property deed at my feet. Chelsea’s name was on it. Last month was Chelsea’s birthday. She sat in my lap, her arms around my neck. “Kris, I know you love me very much, but you know, in our industry, love is so fleeting.” “I really feel very insecure.” I held her, making a significant decision. I transferred all the properties under my name to her. Including this one, the house I bought with the money from my first successful film. I never imagined that one day she would kick me out of my own home. I was packing my suitcase in the room. Chelsea walked in. “I didn’t want you to leave.” I looked up at her. “Then tell Kevin to leave the house now.” She frowned. “Why are you so obsessed with him?” “I already told you, he’s my benefactor. I can’t be ungrateful. Since you’re my boyfriend, you should be thankful to him too!” My voice was cold. “We’ve broken up. I’m not your boyfriend. He is.” The thought of being with this kind of woman for so many years, wasting so many resources, just made me sick. I picked up my suitcase and walked out. Chelsea’s voice came from behind me. “If you walk out of this house today, then we are truly over.” “I’m telling you, I’m about to become Best Actress. You’ll definitely regret this.” I carried my suitcase, not even turning around. I wouldn’t regret it. As for Best Actress, she wasn’t guaranteed to get it. 4 I took my luggage straight to the film set. After discussing it with Scarlett, within a couple of days, I scheduled the unreleased film for screening. Though the timing was rushed and there was no publicity. But because I was the director. And Scarlett’s acting skills were well-recognized in the industry. On opening day, while it couldn’t compare to Chelsea’s box office, it still performed well. That day, Chelsea called. “Kris Thorne, I think you’re truly insane, ruining your own reputation.” “Your new film’s box office today isn’t even a third of your usual. Aren’t you panicking?” I scoffed, hanging up on her. I knew Chelsea well; she definitely hadn’t seriously watched the movie. Over the next two weeks. The film’s box office kept climbing, already surpassing Chelsea’s second film and quickly catching up to her first. I was just finishing up on set when Chelsea stopped me. “If you take ‘Chrysalis’ offline now, I might consider not breaking up with you.” Still so high and mighty. Without me, she wouldn’t be where she was today. How could she possibly think I’d be unwilling to let her go? I pushed her aside. “No way.” Another week passed, and the film became a massive box office hit. Scarlett instantly soared to become a top-tier actress. The film was also nominated for this year’s Best Picture and even garnered a nomination for its educational significance. The international film festival was the next day. Scarlett called me. “I’ve been nominated for Best Actress.” Just as she was about to hang up, she suddenly said: “Check the internet immediately.” I quickly opened my computer. The top trending topic showed ambiguous photos of Scarlett and me. There were also timelines of Chelsea and me entering the same room. Netizens in the know claimed that I had cheated on Chelsea with Scarlett during our relationship. Everyone was cursing me. To everyone’s surprise, Chelsea even posted a veiled comment. [Someone betrayed me, but someone else will love me.] Her fans flooded my comment section. [Shameless! Cheating on our darling Chelsea!] [What an old hag, how could she compare to Chelsea? Pffft!] [This guy has the nerve to be a director? I’ll never watch his films again!] Even all my personal information was dug up. That night. Not only my house, but Scarlett’s house was also surrounded. Chelsea called, her voice triumphant. “The Golden Rooster Best Actress award won’t go to a disgraced actress like her, Kris. You really thought you could succeed? Impossible!” I hung up on her, blocking her number immediately. She wouldn’t think I didn’t have a backup plan, would she?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439037”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Today is my twenty-eighth birthday. My husband went out of his way to buy my favorite mango cake. At the restaurant, a little boy from the next table was egged on by his mother to come over and ask for a slice. I was reluctant, but out of basic courtesy, I gave him a piece. The result was a severe allergic reaction. The boy went into anaphylactic shock and died in the emergency room. His grieving father stormed into my house and stabbed me to death in a fit of absolute rage. Then I opened my eyes, waking up exactly in the moment before I handed that cake over. … 1 The rich, savory scent of sizzling beef and hot oil hit my face in thick waves of steam. The off-key melody of a birthday song scraped against my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, making me wince. My grip on my chopsticks tightened until my knuckles turned white. This scene was entirely too familiar. A little boy wearing a bear-patterned vest stood right by our table, singing “Happy Birthday” in a sickeningly sweet, childish voice. Behind him stood a heavily made-up young woman holding her phone. The camera was pointed dead at us. A calculated, artificial smile stretched across her face. “You sang so beautifully, baby. Hurry up and say thank you to the nice lady.” In my previous life, this was the exact moment my heart melted. I had smiled, cut a generous slice of the mango cream cake, and handed it to him. But mere seconds later, the boy broke out in severe hives. He collapsed on the floor, gasping for air, and never made it out of the resuscitation room. I can still vividly remember his father charging into my house with bloodshot eyes. As the fruit knife plunged into my chest, I could hear my husband, Carter, panicking in the background, yelling that it was an accident. I bled out on my living room floor, and the boy’s father was sentenced to death for first-degree murder. “Lady, can I please have a piece of your cake…” The boy looked no older than five or six. He reached out with filthy, greasy hands, his eyes glued greedily to the frosting in front of me. His mother immediately chimed in. “Come on, miss. Look how adorable he is. Just give him a slice. It is not like it is a luxury item. My son is a lucky charm, sharing with him will bring you good fortune.” I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing down the phantom taste of blood rising in my throat. I pulled my lips into a freezing smile. “No.” The air around our table instantly completely froze. The little boy’s hand stopped mid-air. A second later, a deafening, ear-piercing shriek erupted from his lungs. “I want cake! I want the cake!” He threw a massive tantrum, flailing his arms and slamming his hands on our table. The loud clatter of plates and bowls made the customers at the neighboring booths turn their heads in shock. His mother’s face dropped. She lowered her phone and instantly went on the offensive. “What is your problem? It is just a piece of cake. Do you really need to be this petty with a child? You have zero compassion, but I didn’t expect you to be this vicious.” “Vicious?” I thought about my gruesome death, remembering how this exact woman had stood by and gloated while I bled out. I put down my chopsticks and leaned forward slightly. “Number one: I bought this cake with my own money. Giving it away is my privilege, not an obligation.” “Number two: Your kid tries to snatch things he wants. Instead of parenting him, you attack a stranger. Who is the one lacking basic manners here?” “Number three: If I were truly vicious, I would smash this entire cake right into your face right now, just so you could taste what it feels like to be forced into something.” Whispers began rippling through the restaurant. A few people pulled out their phones to record. The woman’s face flushed a deep, humiliating red. Unable to gracefully back down, she literally dropped to the floor and raised her voice to a hysterical pitch. “Everyone, look at this! A grown woman bullying a child on her birthday! She won’t even spare a single slice of cake. She is a total child-hater! A woman this bitter is destined to curse her husband and ruin her own family!” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, watching her throw a pathetic fit on the floor. “Since you are so good at predicting the future, how come you didn’t predict your son almost knocking over a boiling grill pan just now? If he had severely burned someone, could you afford the medical bills? Or did you intentionally let your kid cause a scene just to extort money out of me?” “What the hell are you talking about!” The woman panicked. She scrambled to her feet and lunged forward, trying to shove me. I glanced at my husband, Carter. He was sitting there like a complete bystander, casually watching the drama unfold. A fierce fire ignited in my chest, and I stood up abruptly. I have always been tall, and fueled by pure adrenaline, my towering presence instantly intimidated her. She yanked her outstretched hand back, opting to stand her ground and glare at me with venomous eyes. By this time, a waiter had rushed over to our table. Seeing the staff arrive, the woman seemed to find her courage again. She immediately started crying to the waiter, claiming I was aggressive and unreasonable. She whined about how I bullied them, had no respect for kids, and refused to share a simple slice of cake. She demanded they kick us out of the restaurant. The waiter listened to her dramatic sob story and gave me an awkward look. Seeing the cold fury in my eyes, he turned back to the woman, trying to deescalate the situation. “Ma’am, please calm down. Giving away the cake is entirely up to this customer. We cannot force her to share it, and we certainly have no right to kick a paying customer out.” Hearing the waiter’s verdict, the woman started wailing even louder. “You are all in on this together! You are just bullying us because my husband isn’t here! You are picking on a helpless mother and child!” While she screamed, the little boy stealthily crept closer. He suddenly reached out, grabbing a massive handful of cake, and shoved his hand toward his mouth. I spotted him instantly. I slapped his hand away hard, knocking the cake onto the floor, and grabbed a napkin to ruthlessly scrub his fingers clean until not a single speck of frosting remained. Seeing his prize ruined, he burst into fresh tears and yelled, “You ugly bitch!” “What the hell is going on here!” A tall, broad-shouldered man suddenly charged over, glaring at us. The boy saw him and immediately ran to hug his leg. The moment I saw his face, a phantom ache flared up in my chest where the knife had pierced me. This was Griffin, the boy’s father. He glared at me, cracking his knuckles threateningly. “You dare bully my wife and kid? Believe me, I will knock you out right now!” 2 “What? You think hitting a woman makes you a tough guy?” I did not take a single step back, staring directly into his furious eyes. “Where were you when your son was throwing a tantrum and trying to steal from a stranger’s table? Now you show up to play the big hero? Instead of flexing your muscles, why don’t you teach your son some basic manners and teach your wife how to respect boundaries.” Hearing the word “steal,” Griffin froze. He looked down at the little boy, who immediately lowered his head in guilt. Griffin turned to his wife and asked what really happened. The woman stammered, refusing to give a straight answer. It seemed this man was actually capable of reason. In my previous life, it was highly likely that his wife’s malicious instigation, combined with the blinding grief of losing his son, had driven him to murder. The situation was finally deescalating, but my husband Carter suddenly opened his mouth with a horribly snide remark. “Is your family starving so badly that your son has to beg my wife for scraps?” That single sentence instantly reignited Griffin’s rage. “You son of a bitch, you’re asking for it!” Griffin raised his fist, ready to swing at Carter. “Sir! Please do not fight!” Several waiters rushed over to physically hold him back. The shift manager ran over clutching a menu, plastering a massive, apologetic smile on his face. “I am so incredibly sorry. Your meal is entirely on the house today. Please cool off. Let’s not get violent in front of the child, it sets a bad example.” The couple looked like they wanted to keep arguing, but the manager secretly slipped them a hefty discount voucher and gave them a pointed look. Griffin shot me one last vicious glare before grabbing his wife and kid, walking away while muttering curses under his breath. Once the family was gone, the manager turned to me, bowing apologetically. “I am so sorry, Ms. Song. You are a regular here, and this is the first time something like this has happened. I am comping your table today to make up for the trouble.” Carter and I frequented this place, The Sizzling Grill. The food and service were usually top-notch. I knew this wasn’t their fault, so I nodded at the manager. He thanked me profusely and hurried away. The surrounding customers finally went back to their own meals. My tightly strung nerves slowly relaxed. That brat didn’t eat the cake, which meant he wouldn’t die. I had successfully dodged my gruesome fate. Just as I let out a sigh of relief, Carter’s face darkened, and he started lecturing me. “You went way overboard just now. It is just a piece of cake. What is the big deal about giving it to a kid? Now everyone in the restaurant is treating us like a joke.” I stared at him in disbelief, my heart feeling like it had been pierced by an icicle. “Did you not see how they treated me? If I gave him the cake and something happened to that child, would you take responsibility?” “What could possibly happen? It is just dessert.” Carter waved his hand impatiently. “You are making a mountain out of a molehill. You have absolutely no empathy. I never knew you were this kind of person.” “Empathy?” I laughed, almost letting a tear slip. “Carter, in my past life, I was literally…” I swallowed the rest of the sentence. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. He would probably just think I had lost my mind. “What are you laughing at?” Carter frowned deeply. “I am being serious. What you did today was incredibly ugly. Do me a favor and don’t tell people you are my wife.” His bystander attitude during the fight and his sudden, deliberate provocation of the boy’s father had already filled me with deep suspicion. I didn’t argue. I silently grabbed my purse and stood up. “I am not going home tonight. I am staying at my parents’ house for a few days. You need to take a good look in the mirror.” The moment I mentioned going to my parents, Carter’s tone shifted from arrogant to impatient. “Harper, can you stop being so dramatic? What are your parents going to think if you run home crying? They are going to assume I am abusing you.” I looked at Carter, a wave of profound disappointment washing over me. In a moment like this, he didn’t care about my feelings at all. He only cared about how my parents viewed him! He walked over and wrapped his arms around me. “Baby, please stop making a fuss. I admit I went a little too far with my words today. Just come home with me. There is a huge promotion opening up at my company, and I really need your dad to put in a good word for me.” So that was his real agenda. Carter and I met at work, and his direct superior was my father. Back when he was intensely pursuing me, my friends warned me that he was only after my family’s money and connections. I refused to believe them back then. But looking at his performance today, I had no choice but to reconsider their warnings. I couldn’t let Carter know I was doubting his motives for marrying me. I forced my posture to relax, pretending my anger had faded. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word to my parents about what happened. I just haven’t been home in a while, and it is my birthday. I want to see them. I will conveniently bring up your promotion to my dad while I am there.” Hearing my promise, Carter kissed the back of my hand. “Thank you, baby. I knew I had the most forgiving wife in the world.” I fought back the urge to vomit and discreetly wiped my hand on my jeans. When I arrived at my parents’ house and pushed the front door open, they were sitting on the couch flipping through my old childhood photo albums. Their faces lit up with pure joy the second they saw me. They hurried over and grabbed my hands. Noticing my silence, my mom asked softly, “Harper, sweetheart, what brings you home so late?” Seeing their loving, concerned eyes broke whatever dam was left inside me. I threw myself into my mother’s arms and sobbed uncontrollably. My mom gently patted my back while my dad paced nervously beside us, rubbing his hands together. “What happened? Did Carter do something to you?” Choking back my tears, I gave them a filtered version of the restaurant incident, completely omitting the rebirth part. I simply told them Carter failed to support me. Hearing this, my parents instantly took my side. “You did the right thing, sweetheart! You cannot let people walk all over you! And what is wrong with Carter? Why on earth wouldn’t he stand up for his own wife?” Parents will always be your strongest shield. I remembered when I first announced I was marrying Carter, they strongly opposed it. They felt he wasn’t grounded and had too many hidden motives. But they couldn’t win against my stubbornness and eventually compromised. History proves that if your family warns you not to marry someone, you really shouldn’t. 3 I was the absolute princess of my family growing up. My dad would move mountains to give me whatever I wanted. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how shattered they must have been when they received the news of my brutal murder in my past life. To cheer me up, my parents suggested we go out for dinner at my favorite spot, The Heritage Steakhouse. I am an absolute fanatic for a good vintage grill. Before I got married, this was my go-to place. I brought Carter here a few times after our wedding, but he claimed he hated the smoky atmosphere, so I eventually stopped going. From then on, we only ever ate at The Sizzling Grill near our apartment. Once we got a booth, I pulled out my phone to scan the QR code for the menu. By pure muscle memory, I accidentally logged into Carter’s loyalty account. We shared the same phone number for log-ins, and for convenience, we never bothered changing the password. I didn’t think much of it since using either account to order food made no difference. After ordering, I wanted to treat my parents, so I sneaked away to the front counter to pay the bill in advance. While the cashier was ringing me up, she smiled warmly. “Ma’am, your account currently has enough loyalty points to redeem a cash voucher. Would you like to apply it to tonight’s bill?” I felt a twinge of confusion. The last time I came here was during the holidays months ago. Do points really take this long to expire? I tested the waters and asked, “How much is the voucher worth?” The cashier checked her screen. “You can redeem a two-hundred-dollar voucher. If you apply it, your total tonight will only be one hundred and thirteen dollars.” Her words exploded in my brain like a bomb. Earning a two-hundred-dollar voucher required at least four thousand loyalty points. There was absolutely no way I had spent that much money here. That meant Carter was the one spending it. Panic rising in my chest, I quickly pulled up the account’s transaction history. The moment the records loaded, my blood ran entirely cold. Over the past three months, Carter had dined at this steakhouse fifteen times. Every single receipt was for a romantic dinner for two. The timestamps were mostly on weekend afternoons. Those were the exact times he explicitly told me he was stuck at the office doing mandatory overtime. My fingers trembled as I scrolled down. The most recent transaction was from just two days ago at noon. There was even a custom note attached to the reservation: Celebrating our seventh dating anniversary, please prepare table decorations. Seventh anniversary. Carter and I had only been married for five years. It felt like an invisible, icy hand had clamped down on my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Was he having an affair this whole time? Who was she? What were they plotting? “Sweetheart, is everything okay?” My mom noticed something was off and reached out to touch my hand. “Why are your fingers freezing?” “I am fine, Mom.” I shoved the phone deep into my pocket, forcing a composed smile. “The AC in here is just a bit strong. Let’s go eat.” My parents could tell I looked pale, so they spent the whole dinner trying to comfort me. But the premium steak tasted like absolute ash in my mouth. My mind was completely consumed by horrifying images of Carter and a faceless woman. When it was time to settle the bill, I paid the full price out of my own pocket, refusing to use Carter’s account to avoid alerting him. Back in my childhood bedroom, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was a video link sent by a friend, accompanied by a viral caption: Watch this heartless woman at The Sizzling Grill! She bullies a child, curses at the mother, and the staff actually takes her side! Who knows who she is sleeping with to get that kind of treatment! Internet, do your thing! Help this poor mother and son get justice! People like her need to be canceled! The video was exactly the altercation from yesterday. The camera angle proved it was filmed by that woman’s phone. It intentionally captured me looking furious and intimidating, while framing her and her bratty kid as pathetic, helpless victims. My friend asked what was going on. She had seen it on her local feed and immediately forwarded it to me, suspecting I was being framed. I briefly explained the truth to my friend, then clicked directly into the woman’s social media profile. I angrily opened the comment section, fully prepared to defend myself against a tidal wave of hate. To my surprise, the top comments were actually incredibly rational: This mom is acting way too fake. Her kid tries to steal food, and she acts like she owns the place? If I were that girl, I wouldn’t give up my cake either. Stop morally kidnapping people. Did you guys see the dad cracking his knuckles? The girl is lucky she didn’t get assaulted, and now the mom is trying to cyberbully her? The restaurant and the girl in the video should file a police report. This is straight-up defamation! Of course, there was still a massive horde of brainless trolls hurling abuse at me. Even if I posted a detailed explanation right now, without hard evidence, no one would believe me. Right then, my phone chimed with a text message from the manager of The Sizzling Grill. Ms. Song, our restaurant does not tolerate malicious slander that harms our reputation. We have high-definition security footage of the entire argument from multiple angles. If you need it, I can send you a copy immediately. I thanked him profusely and saved the video files to my phone. I needed to use this evidence as a lethal weapon when the time was right. Just as I was about to lock my screen, a brilliant thought struck me. The Sizzling Grill had security cameras. That meant The Heritage Steakhouse definitely had them too. If I went to the steakhouse tomorrow and asked to see their footage, I could absolutely identify the woman Carter was having an affair with. First thing the next morning, I rushed to The Heritage Steakhouse and found the floor manager. “Hi, I had dinner here a few days ago, and I think I dropped a very expensive necklace. Is there any way I could check the security cameras to see if it fell near my table?” The manager asked for the date and table number. I recited the exact details from Carter’s transaction history. He immediately escorted me into the security room. The moment the surveillance footage played on the monitor, my vision went completely black. In the video, Carter was sitting at a romantic window booth. And the woman sitting across from him was Toby’s mother.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439053”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My fifteen-year relationship with Molly shattered in a fierce argument about her stubborn refusal to consider marriage. The next day, as a TV reporter, I was assigned to cover a live broadcast from the City Hall registry office. When I interviewed a young man, a random question popped up on the live stream’s comments, dripping with malice: “What’s the cruelest thing your wife has ever said to you?” I was about to skip over this potentially thorny question, but the guy smiled shyly at the camera and answered softly, “She never yells at me. The worst thing she probably ever said was calling me a clumsy idiot when I burned my hand.” He went on to explain that his wife was fourteen years older than him, and she cherished him deeply. She always said he’d been with her since he was so young, and she wanted to spoil him rotten. That’s why he chose his twenty-second birthday to get married. The comments section exploded with “Aww, couple goals!” and I found myself smiling too, ready to offer my congratulations. Just then, a woman walked up and threw herself into his arms, asking intimately, “Honey, what are you talking about?” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, my blood freezing in my veins. The microphone clattered to the ground with a sickening thud. Because that woman was Molly, my girlfriend. And just last night, she had spat at me, “You have any self-respect? Would you have been my lapdog at seventeen, begging me to be with you? Always paranoid. Hell, I’m the one who suspects you’re seeing other women!” … The moment our eyes met, a flicker of panic crossed Molly’s face, but it quickly settled into a cold calm. She shot me a warning glance, subtly shaking her head. I felt like someone had their hand clamped around my throat, my limbs stiff and useless as I stood rooted to the spot. The young man, ever so kind, picked up the microphone and handed it back to me, a playful grin on his face. “What’s wrong, Anchor? Did my wife’s beauty stun you?” Molly laughed, playfully tapping his chest. “Stop talking nonsense. Let’s go, didn’t you want Japanese food?” He let out a delighted yelp, leaning down to kiss her. “Thanks, babe. You’re the best, babe.” That word, “babe,” pierced my heart without warning, leaving a raw, bleeding wound. How utterly pathetic. Fifteen years with Molly, and I never even had the right to call her that. Seeing me still pale and frozen, the young man grumbled, though his eyes were brimming with amusement: “My wife usually won’t take me because she’s worried I’ll get sick. But since it’s our wedding day, she’s finally letting me go wild. Babe, you know I’m the boss today, right?” Molly didn’t spare me another glance, her gaze tender and affectionate as she looked at him. “Alright, alright, boss. Let’s go.” She took his hand, her steps composed as they walked past me. Not a single hesitation, as if I were nothing more than an irrelevant stranger. A torrent of questions lodged in my throat, like countless needles, pricking me until I bled internally. The cameraman behind me gestured, reminding me the live broadcast was still running. Swallowing back my tears, I hastily ended the segment and hurried after them. Under the young man’s astonished gaze, I articulated each word: “Molly, we’re done.” … On the ride home, I huddled in the corner of the taxi, burying my face in my hands and sobbing uncontrollably. Molly and I had been together for fifteen years. During our poorest days, we squeezed into a leaky basement apartment, sharing a single cup of instant noodles. She’d give me the only egg, while she just drank water to stave off hunger. When winter hit, she’d tuck my hands into her clothes to warm them, shivering herself but never once complaining. I never felt the hardship either. Because she told me we’d work hard together, and when we both made it big, she’d wear the most beautiful wedding dress and marry me in style. I worked for ten years, and waited for five. Finally, I was successful, and she was wealthy. But she married another man. Back home, I started packing my suitcase. Molly must have returned at some point, because every item I put in, she’d pull out. Finally, she grabbed my wrist with a tight grip, kicked over the suitcase, and snarled, her eyes bloodshot: “Ethan, what the hell do you think you’re doing? What’s with all the drama?” Tears welled up instantly, and I clutched my chest in agony, my voice hoarse. “Drama? Molly, you married another man. What am I supposed to stay for? To be your side piece?” Molly collapsed onto the sofa, pulling out a cigarette. She brought it to her lips, then silently snuffed it out. “Ethan, it’s not what you think with him.” “He’s Professor Cohen’s son, Liam. Professor Cohen passed away and entrusted Liam to me. I have to take care of him.” Professor Cohen, Molly’s benefactor. If he hadn’t invested in Molly’s project back then, she wouldn’t be where she was today. I curled my fingers, my eyes closing in numb despair. “So you have to marry him and take care of him for the rest of your life? What about me?” Molly frowned, about to speak. Her phone rang, and her eyes instantly softened. “Liam, what’s wrong?” Liam sobbed into the phone. “Molly, is Ethan still mad? Have you explained it to him? Or maybe I should… Ah!” A heavy thud echoed from the other end. Molly immediately stood up, her voice laced with panic. “Liam, what happened? Don’t scare me.” Liam’s voice trembled. “Molly, I fell. It hurts so bad.” Molly soothed him gently. “Don’t be scared, I’ll be right there.” Hanging up, she grabbed me, her tone brooking no argument. “You’re coming with me. Liam and I will explain everything to you in person.” I yanked my hand back, but Molly dragged me all the way to Liam’s place. What made it even more disheartening was realizing Liam lived just upstairs from me. I couldn’t bear to think about all those nights Molly claimed to be working late or leaving in the middle of the night. Had she been with Liam all along? Molly, her face full of concern, helped Liam out of the bathroom. Liam was naked, pressing himself close against her. Seeing me, his eyes red and swollen, he said: “Ethan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were Molly’s boy… friend. Please don’t fight with her. She’s just being kind and taking care of me.” I said nothing, and his eyes welled up with more tears. Molly snarled. “Ethan, Liam’s talking to you. Can’t you answer him? Do you have any manners?” A sharp ache tightened in my chest. After a long silence, I finally whispered, “I understand.” Liam’s tears turned to a smile, and he tugged at Molly’s sleeve. “Molly, my foot hurts so bad. I think I twisted it.” Molly immediately knelt down, carefully cupping his foot and gently massaging it. “Where does it hurt?” Watching them, I suddenly remembered the time I broke my leg protecting her in a car accident. I was in so much pain I couldn’t sleep all night, begging her to put medicine on it. She had impatiently brushed my hand away. “Ethan, you know I’m a germaphobe.” Turns out, her germophobia was just for me. Molly expertly walked over to a cabinet and started rummaging for liniment. The moment she left, Liam’s face contorted into a venomous sneer. “Ethan, why are you such a pathetic loser? Molly and I are legally married. What are you? A side piece trying to stand here?” His voice grew even nastier. “I hear you’ve been with Molly for fifteen years? How sad. All that time and you never even got a marriage certificate. Someone like you, a shameless mooch, should go find a sugar mommy at a club while you still have some looks. Though, I wonder if you can even get it up anymore?” My heart seized, and I angrily looked up. But before I could do anything, he suddenly flushed, slapped himself hard across the face, and collapsed to the floor. “Ethan!” Molly rushed over, shielding Liam in her arms. Liam clutched his face, accusing me through tears. “Molly, I was just apologizing to Ethan, and he suddenly hit me. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have let you take care of me. I’ll leave, I’ll just leave, okay?” I was shaking with rage. “You’re lying! You clearly—” “Enough!” Molly cut me off coldly, gripping my arm tightly. “Apologize to Liam.” In that moment, the last bit of air I was holding onto in my chest simply deflated. I managed a weak smile, my eyes burning. “Molly, you can’t even see through such a cheap trick? That’s… quite disappointing.” I shook off her hand and walked out calmly. As I watched the elevator indicator lights, I remembered being seventeen. I was cornered and bullied by a group of guys in the hallway. When a kind classmate found us, the ringleader turned the tables, slapping himself hard and preemptively telling the teacher: “Teacher, Ethan hit me.” I was just an ordinary student from a single-parent home, and the teacher, not wanting to get involved, was about to give me a disciplinary notice. Molly was the one who helped me. Dressed in a white dress, she leaned casually against the railing, lazily telling the teacher: “Teacher, you can’t even see through such a cheap trick?” She pulled out a video, proving my innocence. She said, “You follow me from now on, be my little brother, and no one will ever dare bully you again.” The girl’s smile was too dazzling, it captivated my heart. And I followed, for fifteen years. But I never imagined that the boomerang of time, after all its twists and turns, would ultimately strike the one who first wielded it. Back home, I continued packing, but my phone kept buzzing. I picked it up and saw that the clips from today’s live broadcast had gone viral. Someone recognized Liam; he was a moderately popular college blogger. I clicked into the account a netizen had found. His latest post showed him and Molly with their fingers intertwined, a marriage certificate displayed in front of them. “Married my crush of many years, so happy~” I suppressed the bitterness in my heart and scrolled further down. In Liam’s posts, I saw Molly, who never lifted a finger at home, cooking for him with her own hands. I saw her, someone who never ate spicy food, going to the hospital with gastritis after eating spicy meals with him. And then there was the day my father passed away. I was home alone, heartbroken to the point of heart failure. She was away on a business trip and called me after hearing the news. But at the same time, the boy’s post showed: “Wife on the phone while doing it, so hot.” Turns out, the choked voice I thought was her comforting me, was just her gasping while in bed with another man. I sat in the darkness, stunned, all night. Molly didn’t come back until noon the next day. I got straight to the point. “You slept with him, didn’t you? Happy?” Molly paused, mid-shoe change, her face instantly darkening. “Watch your mouth. Liam was crying all night, I was comforting him.” I raised my hand, pointing to the hickey on her neck. “Comforting him in bed?” Molly froze. I then handed her Liam’s social media page. Molly was completely silent. After a long pause, she spoke: “He’s just a kid, posting for fun. Don’t go bothering him. It’s all my fault.” No explanation, no apology. Her first instinct was to protect Liam. Tears instantly streamed down my face. “Molly, don’t you guys feel… disgusting?” Seeing my tears, Molly was about to embrace me, but her face darkened when she heard my words. She scoffed. “Clean? You think you’re clean? Ethan, you’ve been with me all these years, circling me like a lapdog. I told you to get a vasectomy, and you went right away. You’re infertile now, a cripple. At least Liam isn’t like you; he’s young, vibrant, whole!” “You forgot how you begged me like a dog to protect you back then. You think if you leave me, anyone out there will want you? Who would ever care about a rotten person like you?” I stared at her, an extreme sorrow washing over me even before anger could. At eighteen, we first experimented with intimacy. Two clueless individuals, fumbling through it, supporting each other every step of the way. Later, through those difficult years, I stood by her. She said she didn’t want children, and I, without a second thought, got a vasectomy. The inability to ever have children, it was the deepest pain in my heart, and I thought she’d be touched. But now I knew, in her eyes, I was a cripple, a useless man. I stared blankly at the face I had loved for fifteen years, suddenly wondering when she had become so… rotten. The girl in the white dress, she had truly died completely in my heart. Realizing she’d spoken out of turn, a flicker of regret crossed Molly’s eyes, but she was interrupted by a phone notification. She glanced at it, and her face instantly turned ashen. Molly lunged, viciously seizing my throat and kicking me to the floor. “Ethan, don’t think I won’t hurt you just because you’ve been with me for years. If anything happens to Liam, I’ll make you pay for it!” Seeing my stunned expression, she slammed her phone onto my face. “Look what you’ve done!” On the screen, my name glared back, every word accusing Liam of being a homewrecker. The language was vicious, sickening. Liam, unable to withstand the online bullying, was now on a rooftop, threatening to jump. I stared at her, my voice trembling. “You think I posted that?” Molly’s eyes were ice cold. “Who else would it be? How could you be so evil? Using such a despicable tactic against a kid.” She stood up, looking down at me. “I only planned to take care of Liam for a while, grant a few of his wishes, and then marry you. But now, I’ve changed my mind.” “Ethan, you will pay the price.” She slammed the door shut as she left. My chest felt like it was being ripped open, making it hard to breathe. I forced myself to go to work. The moment I arrived at the TV station, my boss called me into his office. “You’re fired. Get out.” I stood frozen, my mind a blank. Walking out of the building, the streets were filled with strange, judgmental stares. Before I could even process it, my phone was bombarded with messages. Molly had posted a statement online, accompanied by her marriage certificate and a forged psychiatric evaluation report: “Liam and I are married. Ethan was merely a childhood acquaintance. He’s mentally unstable, and out of old affection, I continued to look after him, never imagining he would slander my husband.” The entire internet erupted in condemnation. “A mentally ill person working as an anchor? How disgusting. People treat him as a friend, he treats them as his wife.” “Delusional, truly terrifying.” “Wow, his information has been dug up. He bullied others in high school. Such a rotten person trying to latch onto CEO Molly.” I stared at the news on my phone, filled with twisted truths, and felt my vision go black, collapsing heavily to the ground. When I opened my eyes again, Molly had me confined. Until Liam came knocking.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439038”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mom once dumped the richest man in our city. Eight years later, I beat up the billionaire’s son, and my teacher forced my mom to kneel and beg for mercy. The billionaire pushed open the door: “I used to treat you like a princess, terrified of you getting hurt. And you’re f***ing kneeling to someone?” “Chloe, whose face are you disgracing right now?” 01 I never had a dad, and I’d never met any relatives. It was always just my mom and me. She worked the night shift at a convenience store and often came home very late. So she asked our neighbor, Mrs. Miller, to set an extra plate for me when she cooked dinner for her granddaughter. Of course, it wasn’t a free meal. My mom paid Mrs. Miller every month. But Mrs. Miller would take that money, turn around, and buy me milk and fruit. She often sighed about how hard my mom worked and told me not to tell her. I nodded, and she praised me for being such a good girl. Honestly, I just felt that if I was a little better behaved, my mom’s life would be a little easier. At school, I was the most invisible student in the class. I paid attention in class, but I never stood out. My classmates sometimes called me a “little mute” because they thought I didn’t like talking. Actually, I just liked eavesdropping on their conversations. The most common topic for third graders was their families. Some kids would even tell everyone about their dad’s hemorrhoids or their mom fighting off mistresses. There was a boy in my class named Leo Vance. He was a new transfer student, and he was always complaining about his CEO dad. He said his dad had a temper like a rabid dog and a face as cold as a widower. He said his dad had no time for him, and usually, it was just the driver and the nanny at home. He said his dad only cared about money, and for his birthday, he just had his secretary pass along a black Amex card. … In short, he didn’t like his dad. But I envied him for having one. I don’t know why, but out of all the kids in class, I wanted to be close to Leo the most. Because I didn’t have a dad, and rumor had it, Leo didn’t have a mom. In a way, we were the same. While walking in line after school, Leo was complaining about how bad his dad’s cooking was. I couldn’t help but chime in: “The desserts my mom makes are really delicious.” I thought if he just said one thing back, I could bring him some of my mom’s desserts. But Leo turned his head and glared at me fiercely: “What’s that supposed to mean?” I looked at him in confusion. “You’re mocking me for not having a mom, right?” Leo shoved me hard, his face full of hostility. I fell to the ground. While I was still in a daze, our homeroom teacher, Ms. Evans, yelled from behind: “Audrey! Are you blind? You’re ruining the line’s discipline. Get up right now!” I had no choice but to slowly climb up and dust off my clothes. Ever since I spoke to Leo after school, I inexplicably became a thorn in his and his followers’ sides. Every time he walked past my desk, he would pinch my arm through my clothes. If we met face-to-face, he would slam his shoulder into mine. Not to mention, he was always surrounded by a group of lackeys. Every time I walked by, they would yell out of nowhere: “Audrey, the little mute. So embarrassing,” and make weird noises at me. I mustered up the courage to tell a teacher. But when I went to Ms. Evans’s office, she was sitting cross-legged, holding her phone, talking to someone. She kept saying “Mr. Vance,” smiling from ear to ear. I stood at the door for ten minutes, but she didn’t even notice me. The bell rang for the next class, English. I had to go back. The English teacher assigned an essay today titled “My Father.” I didn’t know how to start, so I just sat there awkwardly for the entire period. The sky outside was grey, looking like it was about to rain, making everyone feel heavy. However, Leo was very happy. He told everyone that his dad was coming to pick him up today. When school ended, a torrential downpour started, just as expected. Surprisingly, in the entire huge school, Leo and I were the only ones left waiting. The security guard brought us to the guardhouse. Leo looked terrible. He kept yelling into his smartwatch: “I don’t care! I don’t want to hear any excuses! You have to come pick me up!” Then he put his watch down and started stomping on the floor, “Bang, bang, bang.” I thought he really looked like an angry, unreasonable monkey. I don’t know how long it had been, but the Vance family driver finally appeared outside the guardhouse. “I don’t want you. Where’s my dad?” The little tyrant threw a tantrum at the driver outside the window. The driver awkwardly made a phone call. Not long after, a man holding a massive black umbrella walked over at a leisurely pace. The sky was still gloomy, and the wind was howling outside. Even though the umbrella shielded his face, you could tell the man had an upright, straight posture, possessing a calm composure that feared no storm. Leo had already jumped up, rushed out of the guardhouse, and sprinted into the man’s arms. The man extended a hand, firmly grabbing Leo by the collar. It was a pair of hands that looked powerful and reassuring—wide palms with pronounced knuckles. It looked exactly like the kind of hands a dad should have. The man set Leo down, held the umbrella with one hand, and tilted most of it toward Leo’s side. Then, without mercy, he smacked the back of Leo’s head. That crisp smack sounded like someone thumping a watermelon. I stared, a little dazed. Leo didn’t mind. Instead, he suddenly turned around and flashed me a smug, gloating smile. “Poor little thing.” He mocked me with a funny face. “Keep waiting by yourself!” 02 I simply stayed in the guardhouse. I had almost finished all my homework by the time the storm stopped. The security guard, Mr. Lee, even shared his dinner with me—a basket of delicious steamed buns. After thanking him, I walked back to the apartment I rented with my mom. I did a quick mop of the floor and read “The Magic School Bus” before my mom finally came home. The bedroom door was pushed open, and my mom peeked half her body in with a beaming smile: “Baby, why aren’t you asleep yet?” My eyes immediately zeroed in on her other arm, which she was hiding behind the door. “Mom! You hurt your left hand?” She scratched her head: “You’ve got sharp eyes, kid. 20/20 vision, I see.” I asked her what happened. “Something fell on it at work,” she sighed. “It’s fine now, but I can’t use my left hand for a couple of weeks.” “Can you rest at home for these two weeks?” I asked tentatively. “What kind of capitalist has that kind of heart? Give you a few weeks off, do you still want to keep your job?” I lowered my eyes, feeling a bit upset. “Ta-da! Look what I have here!” My mom suddenly raised her voice and quickly brought out a roast duck and a can of beer she had been hiding behind her back to distract me. “This is a gift from my stingy boss.” “Were you planning to eat it all by yourself?” I asked quietly. She scratched her cheek: “Am I that kind of person?” I had to help her recall the times after I fell asleep when she hid in the living room drinking boba, eating BBQ, and watching TV shows… Under the dim light, we shared the roast duck. I suddenly remembered seeing Leo’s dad today, so I asked softly, “Mom, what kind of person was my dad?” I knew my mom didn’t like talking about my dad. But after a moment of silence, she actually started telling me: He had a bad temper, spent all his time working, and only knew how to solve problems by throwing a black Amex card at them… “What did he look like? Were his hands big?” “Pretty big, and he was quite tall.” My mom burst out laughing. “Why are you asking this?” I wanted to hear more, but my mom’s voice went flat: “Kid, knowing this won’t do you any good. He’s already dead.” I could only look at her eagerly and ask one last question: “Did my dad love me when he was alive?” She stroked my head and said softly, “Go to sleep, baby.” I don’t know why, but I felt like she looked sad even while smiling. The next day, I got to school early and started writing the essay I hadn’t finished the day before. When I handed it in, Mr. Davis actually used mine as a model essay and read it out loud in front of the whole class. My Father My father often keeps a straight face, always looking unhappy. My father is always very busy and has no time to take care of me, but I know he is always by my side. My father is the best father in the world. Whenever it rains, he drops all his work to come pick me up from school. His hands are so big, just like his big black umbrella, able to shield my mom and me from all the storms in the world… After school, Leo found me, his face burning with anger: “You thief! You clearly wrote about my dad.” He reached out to push me. I quickly ran back, but he caught up instantly, pinning me against the wall at the back of the classroom, yelling fiercely: “Thief!” I suddenly got angry and shoved him hard. Actually, I was already taller and stronger than him. He fell to the ground, his face instantly turning black, and started cursing at me. I had never heard such vicious words before! Old grudges and new resentments piled up. Not only did I not let him go, but I sat on him, throwing a punch for every curse word he spat. By the time I snapped out of it, Ms. Evans had already rushed into the classroom. She screamed, pulled me off Leo, and held him close, comforting him for a long time. Leo pretended to cry for a bit, then said dramatically: “Ms. Evans, my dad entrusted me to you. I’ve always thought of you as a mom. I only have you, boo hoo hoo.” Ms. Evans turned her head and glared at me fiercely: “Audrey! Right now, immediately, call your mother to come to the school!” 03 “Does your daughter have violent tendencies?” Ms. Evans’s voice was shrill. “Look at what she did to Leo!” Leo immediately let out a few groans, pretending to be in a lot of pain. Ms. Evans spoke gently to him: “Be a good boy, Leo. I called your dad, he’ll be here soon.” My mom, with her left arm in a cast, was still wearing the green vest from the convenience store and a cheap hat with the store’s logo. She seemed to have rushed over, her bangs blown into a mess. She glanced at me and said anxiously, “Audrey is usually very well-behaved. She wouldn’t hit someone for no reason.” Ms. Evans raised her voice: “Are you saying I’m falsely accusing your daughter?” “That’s not what I mean,” my mom said quickly. “I just want to hear the children explain what happened.” “Audrey,” Ms. Evans turned to me coldly, “Tell me yourself, what did you do wrong?” I stubbornly kept my mouth shut. Ms. Evans seemed infuriated. “Fine, if you won’t say it, I will.” “You don’t follow discipline when lining up.” “The other students don’t like you. You have no ability to integrate into the group.” “And now you’ve even learned to beat up your classmates.” “Just now when I asked you, you didn’t say a word. You’ve learned how to be deceitful too.” “Let me ask you, do you even respect me as your homeroom teacher?” My mom looked at me, her lips moving: “Ms. Evans, there might be some misunderstanding…” Ms. Evans let out a contemptuous smile: “Since you insist on turning a blind eye to your daughter’s mistakes, I have nothing more to say.” She slammed her thermos onto the desk. “I can’t teach her. You should find a better teacher. Go ask around and see which homeroom teacher in this school is willing to take her. Transfer her out immediately.” At these words, my mom’s face turned completely white. Although she usually didn’t act like a typical strict mother, she was very serious about my education. Usually, if I scored below an 80 on a test, she wouldn’t hesitate to give me a spanking. Not to mention, education had always been more important than life itself to her. “No, please.” My mom panicked, begging her, “Ms. Evans, please give Audrey another chance. She’s young, she doesn’t know any better.” Ms. Evans turned her head, snorted coldly, and faced the wall. My mom continued to beg bitterly, saying everything she could to appease her. But no matter what my mom said, Ms. Evans just told her to find someone else to take me. But in a school, which homeroom teacher would accept a student another teacher rejected? “Please have a little mercy.” My mom raised her injured arm. “I promise I will properly discipline Audrey when we go home. Please don’t give up on her.” Ms. Evans turned back, but still picked at her: “How can I trust you?” My mom paused, as if making a firm decision: “Ms. Evans, I work long hours and don’t have time to pay attention to Audrey’s mental state. She’s always alone, and there’s no one to teach her right from wrong.” It was the first time I saw my mom speak so seriously. I stared at her blankly. My mom gripped the armrest of a chair and slowly knelt down, pleading once more: “Ms. Evans, the person at fault is actually me, her mother. I didn’t raise her well; it’s not Audrey’s fault. Please, give her another chance.” After she spoke, her usually thin, straight shoulders slumped deeply. I stared at her in shock. This woman, who was usually always joking and informal, was my mother; this woman, kneeling on the floor, humbling herself and begging the teacher not to abandon me, was my mother; this woman, who taught me to be an upright person and to study hard, was my mother… A hard life had never crushed her, but at this moment, she surrendered her dignity for my sake. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I immediately hugged her shoulders and knelt down beside her. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. Mom, it’s not your fault.” I had never felt such intense regret for doing something. Tears streamed from my eyes, and I felt my heart breaking into pieces. Ms. Evans also seemed startled. She lowered her voice: “I didn’t mean…” “I’m sorry, Ms. Evans,” I cried too. “I promise I’ll never hit anyone again.” Amidst the commotion, Leo suddenly shouted excitedly: “Dad, you’re finally here.” Ms. Evans jumped, hurriedly pushed us away, bent down, and quickly touched up her lipstick using a small mirror on the desk. The first thing I heard was a cold voice: “Leo, tell me yourself, what kind of trouble did you cause this time?” The office door was pushed open. The footsteps drew closer, and the man’s voice seemed tinged with fatigue and annoyance: “Confess right now, before I have to make you.” I felt my mom’s body stiffen. She turned her head to look, then immediately lowered it, as if she had seen something unbelievable. For a moment, I felt like she wanted to hide under the desk. “Mr. Vance.” Ms. Evans stood up, beaming. “You misunderstand. Today, Leo was the one who was bullied. Don’t be too hard on him.” The man stopped casually behind her: “Bullied by who?” “Her.” Ms. Evans pointed at me, sighing. “There’s something wrong with this girl’s head.” I didn’t dare to argue, I could only turn around, prostrating myself on the floor, and say, “I’m sorry.” The man squatted down. He looked at the bruises on Leo’s face, his tone completely flat: “Got beat up? Does it hurt?” Leo quickly let out a pathetic “Mhm.” The man frowned, but said mercilessly: “Useless.” After criticizing Leo, his sharp eyes swept over me: “A young girl who likes to use her fists. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?” Stared down by his dark, gloomy eyes, I almost burst into tears again, so I bit my lip hard. “She really wasn’t raised right,” Ms. Evans quickly added. “I just reprimanded her, and her mom knelt down to apologize. Sigh… Mr. Vance, how do you think we should handle this?” “How should we handle this?” Mr. Vance slowly repeated the words, and anyone could hear the icy tone in his voice. Hearing this, I immediately straightened up, frantically grabbed the hem of his suit jacket, and said: “Mister, I didn’t mean it, I swear, I will never mess with him again.” Mr. Vance looked down at me, suddenly frowning. He pinched my chin with one hand, his gaze even revealing a bit of confusion and bewilderment: “Why do you… look so much like…” He didn’t finish his sentence. After a long silence, he just shook his head: “Ms. Evans, forget it.” Leo started screaming: “How can we just forget it?” “Then what do you want?” Mr. Vance’s tone grew a bit impatient. “I want Audrey to apologize to me in front of the whole class tomorrow.” Leo’s little mouth babbled on. “And last time she mocked me for not having a mom.” Mr. Vance’s face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot, while my mom’s face went completely pale. She secretly glanced at Leo, her eyes a mix of pain and inner conflict. She seemed to want to say something but bit her lip, burying her head even lower, her body trembling slightly. I was a bit worried and quickly squeezed my mom’s hand. “Enough, you little brat,” Mr. Vance raised his hand and grabbed Leo’s collar. “I think you really are asking for a beating.” “Getting beat up by a little girl is embarrassing enough, and you want the whole class to laugh at you?” Ms. Evans seemed surprised that the matter was dropping so easily. She pursed her lips and said: “Since Mr. Vance isn’t pursuing the matter, Audrey’s mom, you should apologize to him.” My mom didn’t say a word, trembling even more violently. Ms. Evans waited, growing impatient: “Audrey’s mom? Does muteness run in your family?” Mr. Vance finally seemed to notice there was a woman kneeling on the floor. He casually turned his head, and with just one glance, he froze. He let go of Leo’s collar and stood up instantly. “I’m sorry,” my mom finally said softly, her head still buried low. The man parted his lips, seemingly using a great deal of effort just to call out a name: “Chloe… is that you?” I didn’t know how he knew my mom’s name. “You have the wrong person.” My mom immediately turned her face away, but her left hand in the cast clenched painfully into a fist, as if she were enduring something. “It is you.” Mr. Vance stared fixedly at my mom, his facial expression a mix of crying and laughing, hatred and joy, his whole face twisting terribly. “Chloe—” He seemed to chew on the name, his eyes glued to my mom. “When did you get back?” My mom turned her head, refusing to meet his gaze. Even Ms. Evans realized something was wrong, her face changing instantly: “Do you know her, Mr. Vance?” “Know her? Far more than that.” He seemed furious, unable to bear it any longer, and pulled my mom up from the floor with one hand. “Eight years since we last saw each other, and you’re this pathetic, ridiculous mess?” “Chloe, I used to treat you like a princess, terrified of you getting hurt. And you’re f***ing kneeling to someone here today?” “Chloe, whose face are you disgracing right now?” “Get up!” Once my mom was pulled up, she quickly grabbed my hand, as if trying to rush me out of there. But Mr. Vance still firmly gripped my mom’s slender wrist. In front of everyone, this tall, intimidating man’s eyes actually grew red: “Chloe, we haven’t seen each other in so many years, and you won’t even look up at me?” He seemed to realize something and suddenly looked at me: “How old are you?” Inexplicably, I met a pair of eyes filled with disbelief. The owner of those eyes spoke angrily: “Chloe, is she our—” “Audrey is seven this year,” my mom interrupted. “She’s my daughter with my husband. Carter Vance, she has nothing to do with you.” She paused, her voice seemingly suppressing immense pain as she continued: “And you have no right to question me now, whether I’m a beggar or anything else.” I nervously glanced between them. Actually, I’m eight this year. I don’t know why my mom lied about my age. But I figured my mom must have her reasons. After hearing her words, Mr. Vance asked, crestfallen: “You… got married?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439054”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my first day as an intern in the department, I was stunned by a private message from my supervising doctor. She had actually looked into my background, knew that my car, less than a year old, cost over thirty thousand dollars base price, and even commented on my three years of steady driving experience. Then she laid down her demands, stating that her home was far, on the west side of the city, and that starting tomorrow, I should pick her up at her place at 7:10 AM every day, and then wait for her at the hospital entrance at 5:00 PM when she finished work. Finally, she self-righteously declared that this would be my “teaching fee” as her intern. I stared at my phone screen for a full two seconds, then simply replied that it wasn’t within my job description. After that, I ignored her and drove home after work. The next day, two tardiness records mysteriously appeared in my intern handbook. Even worse, the remarks section blatantly read: “Poor attitude, disobedient.” Seeing these twisted accusations, I couldn’t help but laugh in anger. Since she insisted on pulling rank, I saw no reason to be polite either. 1 Dr. Jennings finished her rounds and walked over to me, her tone peremptory. “I’m on call today, so I won’t be off until seven. I’ll let you grab dinner after work, but be at the hospital entrance by six-thirty, waiting for me.” I froze, startled by her words. Seeing my silence, her tone grew impatient. “Did you hear me? Because you didn’t drive me home yesterday after work, I got home half an hour late.” “My husband and I are trying for a baby right now. Do you know what half an hour means to me?” Her voice was aggressive, demanding. What did that have to do with me? She wasn’t even my one-on-one mentor. But thinking that I had just started at the hospital, I decided not to be too harsh with my words. I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Dr. Jennings, I also need to get home early. My parents are waiting for me for dinner.” “Besides, my house is on the east side of the city, completely opposite yours. If you’re really in a hurry, you can book a rideshare every day. It’s more convenient than me.” I thought my words had made it clear enough; any intelligent person would understand I wasn’t willing. Clearly, I had underestimated Dr. Jennings’ audacity. She sneered. “I mentor you every day, and I don’t complain about the hassle. Is this how you treat your teacher?” At these words, my roommate Sally, standing nearby, quickly spoke up. “That’s not right of you, Dr. Brooks. How much effort does Dr. Jennings put into us every day?” “She’s just asking you to drive her home, and you keep making excuses?” Sally and I had always been at odds in school. I turned to her. “Since you’re so thoughtful, why don’t you drive Dr. Jennings home then?” “I recall your family lives on the west side too. And your parents, bless their hearts, bought you a little commuter car. Perfect, isn’t it?” Sally’s face instantly changed. She quickly said, “No way.” Realizing her slip-up, she forced a smile. “Dr. Jennings, my car is just a tens-of-thousands dollar commuter vehicle. It’s not worthy of you. Her BMW is much better, it suits your status.” Dr. Jennings looked extremely pleased. “Alright, you just need to do as you’re told. Remember to be at the hospital entrance by six-thirty this afternoon, waiting for me.” Seeing that they weren’t listening to reason, I let my face harden. “Dr. Jennings, I told you, it’s not on my way, and it’s not convenient.” “As for how you get home, that has nothing to do with me.” “Don’t waste your time; I won’t be driving you home.” The surrounding interns were shocked by my defiance. Everyone turned to look at us. Dr. Jennings clenched her fists tightly. “Do you even know who I am?” I nodded slightly. “Dr. Jennings, I address you as a doctor, but we are merely colleagues.” “I have work to do, so I won’t waste any more of your time.” With that, I turned and left. 2 All day long, Dr. Jennings kept me busy. I knew she was upset, but I didn’t say anything. After all, these were all part of an intern’s duties. If I didn’t do them today, I’d have to do them tomorrow. Might as well get used to it early. As quitting time approached, Dr. Jennings suddenly looked at me. “The patient on the third floor just had surgery today. Someone needs to stay with them. Go down and observe for two hours.” Hearing this, I couldn’t help but laugh in anger. “Dr. Jennings, it’s almost time for me to finish work.” “Other interns will be arriving soon. Do you want to wait for them to get here?” Dr. Jennings reprimanded me. “You call yourself a doctor, always trying to shirk your duties!” “Are patients supposed to wait for your work schedule?” “If you have that kind of work attitude, you should resign sooner rather than later. You’re not suited for hospital work.” I clenched my fists tightly, stung by her scolding. She wasn’t entirely wrong. My purpose in interning at this hospital was to challenge myself, to prove to my parents that I could handle hardship. And as a doctor, not getting off work on time was perfectly normal. I should get used to it in advance. Thinking this, I lowered my head. “I understand, Dr. Jennings. I’ll go now.” On the third floor, I bustled about for two hours, without a single sip of water, and was finally nearing the end of my shift. I sat on a chair, my gaze vacant. Another intern who had come with me sidled over. “Let me tell you, you really hit a brick wall today. I heard Dr. Jennings is really close to the Chief of Staff. You dared to offend her? Aren’t you asking for trouble?” My eyes widened. I thought I’d misheard. “What did you say? Chief of Staff?” The intern looked left and right. “Yeah, didn’t you know? When we started at the hospital yesterday, I specifically asked the other doctors, and everyone knows.” My mind was in a daze. Before I could fully react, a shadow fell over me. Dr. Jennings cleared her throat. “Time’s up. Are you done for the day?” I glanced at my phone. It was exactly seven o’clock. As I stood up to leave, Dr. Jennings walked over to me. “It’s getting late. You can drive me home today.” I frowned slightly. “Dr. Jennings, it’s getting late. I need to get home early.” I absolutely needed to get home early to figure out what all this was about. Dr. Jennings stood with her arms crossed, looking at me. “I see you still haven’t figured out who’s really in charge here.” “Do you know who I am? What’s my relationship with the Chief of Staff?” “Me asking you to drive me home, that’s me doing you a favor. You better think it over. If you refuse me today, every day from now on will be like this.” I took a deep breath. “You say you have a relationship with the Chief of Staff. What kind of relationship?” She chuckled lightly. “What do you think? Didn’t I already tell you I’m going home to try for a baby? So, of course, it’s a marital relationship.” “If you mess with me, I’ll make sure you can’t stay in this hospital, do you hear me?!” Looking at her sharp, malicious face, I bit the soft flesh inside my cheek. “Since you’re so close to the Chief of Staff, why doesn’t he buy you a car?” “And I heard the Chief of Staff has been married for a long time. His wife is his colleague, so your age doesn’t quite match, does it? Dr. Jennings, you’re not playing mistress, are you?” Dr. Jennings’ eyes turned bloodshot as she stared at me. “What nonsense are you spouting?” I was eager for answers and had no time to waste with her here. “Dr. Jennings, I’m in a hurry to get home. Please just call a taxi.” 3 I stopped looking at her, turned, and walked away. Back home, seeing my father on the sofa, I began. “Do you have any connection to Dr. Jennings in the emergency department?” Dad looked puzzled. “Who’s that?” I recounted everything Dr. Jennings had told me. My dad was the Chief of Staff. But no one knew this. I wanted to prove my own abilities, which was why I had refused my dad’s kind offer to arrange my placement in the hospital. Everything I had achieved at the hospital, up to this point, was on my own merit. For as long as I could remember, my parents had a strong relationship. I didn’t believe the rumors were true, nor did I believe what Dr. Jennings was saying. I needed to confirm it with my father. Hearing everything, Dad slammed his hand on the table. “Nonsense! Dr. Jennings, you say? I’m going to make her pay today.” Dad pulled out his phone, about to make a call. I stopped him. “Since this isn’t true, leave it to me. I’ll make her pay for spreading such lies.” The next morning, as soon as I arrived at the hospital, everyone looked at me with disdain. “No wonder she, of all people our age, can drive a BMW. Turns out she’s just spreading her legs to serve men. And you know, that money comes fast.” “She’s never bothered with us since she started here. I thought she was just introverted, but she actually looks down on us. Pfft!” “If she looks down on us, why does she come to steal our jobs?” “Doesn’t anyone else find it disgusting to be colleagues with someone like her?” Whispers and pointing fingers surrounded me. I frowned, looking in the direction of the voices. “Do you know what you’re saying?” A voice from the crowd responded. “You still have the nerve to show your face here. If I were you, I’d quit and leave immediately.” “Does anyone smell something? I swear I smell something fishy.” Hearing these words, I trembled with anger. Just then, Sally walked in from outside the hospital. She saw me and frowned. “You still have the nerve to come to the hospital?” “Back in the dorm, you led the charge to isolate me, and said my family was poor. I thought you were from some rich family, but the Brooks family is just as shameless.” As she spoke, she pulled out a stack of photos from her pocket. “Looking at the man’s age, he must be older than your dad, right? You really have no shame.” With that, she violently threw the photos up in the air. My gaze fell on the photos scattered on the ground. In the pictures, I was sitting in a luxury car, smiling happily. And a man was fastening my seatbelt. All sorts of misleading photos. If I didn’t know the man was my dad, I would have believed it too. The photographer was very skillful. My face was clearly captured in every photo, but my dad’s face wasn’t visible in any of them. Dr. Jennings’ office door opened. She swept a condescending glance over me. “We don’t need shameless interns like you in this hospital. I don’t have shameless students like you. You’re fired. Get out of the hospital now.” 4 Her eyes gleamed with triumph. At that moment, I knew everything was part of her plan. I bit my lower lip, the taste of blood filling my mouth. “I won’t leave, unless I’m officially fired.” “As for you, you’re just a regular doctor. You have no authority to fire me!” Dr. Jennings hadn’t expected me to challenge her. She pulled out her phone and made a call. “Fire intern Ashley Hayes right now.” Soon, my phone received a termination message. Dr. Jennings waved her hand at me. “You’ve received your termination notice. Now get out of this hospital.” “Don’t ever say you work here again. Disgusting!” With that, she turned to leave. I grabbed her wrist. “Dr. Jennings, you’ve been spreading rumors in the hospital, circulating gossip about yourself and the Chief of Staff. Is any of this actually true?” A flicker of panic crossed Dr. Jennings’ eyes. She lifted her hand and flung mine away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” “You’re not a doctor at this hospital anymore. Besides, this is all my private business. I don’t need to tell you anything.” I stood my ground. “I’m not leaving. I haven’t done anything wrong. Why is the hospital firing me without any reason?” Dr. Jennings hadn’t expected me to be so persistent. She stared intensely at me. “Alright, then I’ll make sure you lose convincingly.” With that, she pulled out her phone and made another call. Less than five minutes later, a familiar voice echoed from outside the crowd. “What are you all gathered around for?” Hearing the voice, my entire body froze. Dr. Jennings chuckled softly. “The Chief of Staff is here. You’ll be out of this hospital in no time.” The crowd automatically parted to create a path. Dad walked in. Dr. Jennings quickly stepped forward, her voice soft and delicate. “Chief of Staff, you’re finally here. There’s an intern here who’s disobedient and keeps causing trouble.” “She insists on seeing you before she’ll leave. I truly couldn’t handle her anymore.” Dad looked up and saw me. Dr. Jennings was still chattering on. “Chief of Staff, this intern is truly unfit to be a doctor. I don’t know how her parents raised such a child.” “You must fire her and blacklist her from all hospitals. A person like her truly doesn’t deserve to be a doctor!” Dad gave a forced smile. “So, you’re saying, what exactly makes my daughter unfit to be a doctor?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439039”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am known throughout the university as the hot-tempered rich girl. My favorite thing to do is spend money to boss my classmates around. A new transfer student couldn’t stand it and put me on blast online. As a result, I was cyberbullied, and the whole school panicked. Because I paid people $150 just to run errands. And $750 to argue with people for me. My classmates immediately grabbed their keyboards to defend me: [How dare you anger my sugar mama! I’ll fight you!] [I love being her lackey, mind your own business!] The transfer student was stunned. But the netizens went wild, flooding my social media comments: [Please, I want to be your minion too!!] 01 The day the transfer student arrived. It happened to be the day of our class’s basketball game against the rival class. Everyone was crammed together under the scorching sun, looking anxious. Except for me. I was sitting under the shade of a tree, wearing sunglasses, and eating a popsicle. In a thirty-foot radius around me, there were only three other people. One was holding a parasol for me, one was holding a portable fan, and the last one was holding my water bottle. Chloe Sterling appeared right at this moment, carrying her backpack. Wearing a white dress, she aggressively pushed through the crowd and asked indignantly: “Excuse me, did you rent out this entire patch of shade?” I lowered my head slightly, looking at her over the rim of my sunglasses, and readily admitted: “Yeah, I Venmoed them $30 each to give up this spot. I don’t like being squeezed with people in the middle of summer. It’s too hot.” The basketball court was only so big, and the area assigned to each class was fixed. It just so happened that our class’s section had a shady spot under a tree, so I booked it. I stared at her face and suddenly realized: “Oh, you’re the new transfer student the counselor mentioned. Since you’re in our class, you get a share of the shade too. Pull up your Venmo QR code, I’ll scan you $30.” To my surprise, not only did Chloe not pull up her QR code, but she also looked at me with disgust. “For your own selfish desires, you force everyone to cram together under the blazing sun. Aren’t you just acting like a stereotypical evil rich girl from a movie, using money to oppress people? This is too much! This is blatant bullying!” Hearing that last word, I laughed speechlessly. I instantly put away the phone I was about to use to transfer her money. Then I turned to ask the three girls surrounding me: “Am I bullying you?” The three of them hurriedly shook their heads in unison. The one holding the parasol even teared up. “Of course not! You saw that the three of us are struggling financially and were about to be unable to pay our tuition. Out of the goodness of your heart, you hired us to run errands for you. $300 a day for holding the umbrella, $150 an hour for fanning! We can finally pay our tuition! Now I don’t even have to ask my family for living expenses, which greatly reduces their burden.” “Queen B” was the nickname my classmates gave me. I thought it was cute, so I never objected. After hearing what they said, I turned back to Chloe and shrugged: “See? No bullying. They’re all very grateful.” When Chloe heard those numbers, her eyes turned red with anger. She almost couldn’t maintain her holier-than-thou expression. “My living expenses for a whole month are only $150, and you use that to tip someone for fanning you for an hour? You…” She glared at me fiercely: “The school won’t allow someone like you to do this!” With that, she stormed off angrily. Watching her back, I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. Sounding so self-righteous, when really she was just coveting someone else’s money. She was faking it. “But $30 each seems a bit low. It’s not easy for everyone in this heat.” I took a bite of my popsicle, thought for a moment, and turned around to drop $4,500 into our class’s group chat. There are about thirty people in our class, so that’s an average of $150 per person. As soon as I hit send, the crowd in front of me erupted. I don’t know who started it, but someone yelled, “I love you, Queen B!” In an instant, the entire basketball court was covered by similar shouts. Even the players on the court were confused, wondering which player had such an incredible cheering squad. The people from the other classes, upon learning what happened, could only look over with extreme jealousy. They wished they could immediately fill out a transfer form and live a blissful life of being showered with money by me every day. And Chloe, who hadn’t joined the class group chat yet, heard the cheers behind her, stumbled, and almost fell over from anger. 02 The next day during homeroom. Chloe followed our counselor into the classroom. When her gaze fell on me, she wore an extremely smug smile. Sure enough, Mrs. Davis stood at the podium, scanned the room with a sharp gaze, and said: “I’ve heard reports from students that a bad trend has appeared in our class recently. Paying classmates to serve you? Are you here to study or to be an emperor? I won’t name names here, but certain students should watch themselves!” Chloe puffed out her chest, looking triumphant: “Exactly! If I hadn’t told Mrs. Davis in time, she would still be in the dark! Some people really are the bad apple that ruins the bunch, turning a good campus environment into a toxic mess.” Watching this teacher-student duo put on a show, I curled my lip. Growing up, I hated it most when teachers said “certain students” or “some people.” Everyone clearly knows who they mean, but they insist on using these terms. It strips the person being called out of even the chance to defend themselves. So I had no intention of holding back. I stood up with a bright smile: “Mrs. Davis, why don’t you just say my name?” Mrs. Davis’s face darkened: “Audrey Miller, I was planning to give you a chance to reform, but I didn’t expect you to be so shameless as to admit it yourself!” I shrugged my shoulders: “Not at all. I stood up because I wanted to say that you’re right. Spending money to buy services is simply a heinous crime. Although I’m willing to spend the money, and my classmates are happy to provide the service—a free market—since you disagree, this practice must be banned.” The counselor heard the sarcasm in my words. She turned green with anger and pointed her index finger sharply at me. “Audrey Miller, don’t get too arrogant! You will write an essay of reflection. One thousand words… no, two thousand words!” I smiled and continued: “No problem, Mrs. Davis. But before I do, I have a question. Since this whole thing is wrong, shouldn’t my classmates return the money to me? After all, according to you, this is ill-gotten wealth. I’ll give everyone their dignity back, and everyone will return my money.” As soon as those words fell, the entire classroom went silent. The students who had been treating the verbal sparring between me and the counselor as a show suddenly couldn’t sit still. They immediately turned their hostility toward the two people at the podium. “What the hell? Why? I’m happy to buy water for Queen B. What does it have to do with the teacher?” “Exactly! And that new girl. I hate snitches the most in my life. She likes showering us with money, why are you being so nosy?” “I didn’t have money for tuition, so I asked Mrs. Davis for a low-income grant. She turned around and gave the spot to a student she likes. That student uses an iPhone and wears Air Jordans, and she knows it! If it weren’t for Queen B tipping us from time to time, I would have dropped out a long time ago!” “Yeah, I was able to get into the top ten in our grade last semester only because she gave me money, so I didn’t have to work a part-time job. Otherwise, my grades definitely wouldn’t be this good.” “When it comes down to it, it’s all Chloe’s fault. Stirring up trouble as soon as she joined our class. Get out of our class right now, you’re not welcome here!” 03 Hearing the uproar below, Chloe’s face turned pale. She bit her lip and stomped her foot: “Why are you all so ungrateful! I’m helping you regain the integrity college students should have!” It would have been better if she hadn’t spoken; as soon as she did, the arguments below became even fiercer. “Spit! So taking money means having no integrity? Then give all your money to me, and you can stay pure and untainted.” Chloe couldn’t argue with so many people, and tears were forced out of her eyes. She originally wanted to use the counselor to take me down a peg, but she didn’t expect to incite mass outrage. Chloe nervously tugged at the counselor’s sleeve: “Mrs. Davis, I…” Mrs. Davis gave her a comforting look, then slammed her hand on the desk. “Are you all rebelling?! Opposing me like this—do you still want recommendations for internships? Do you still want your credits?!” Instantly, the classroom quieted down again. Having managed students for so many years, she knew exactly how to manipulate them. After all, many opportunities and quotas were in the counselor’s hands. The students below looked at each other, not knowing what to choose. Offend me, and there’s no money to be made. Offend the counselor, and they feared they wouldn’t be selected for many future activities. At this moment, I let out a cold laugh and asked: “Mrs. Davis, what about you? Do you still want your job?” “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’re targeting me today, and it’s not just because of Chloe’s snitching, is it? You know my family is wealthy, and you know I’m generous with my money, but I’ve never paid you ‘tribute.’ You’ve been pissed off for a long time, haven’t you?” Mrs. Davis, having her true intentions exposed, revealed a momentary look of guilt. But she quickly adjusted her expression and reprimanded me loudly: “You need evidence when you speak! Is this how your parents raised you?” Bringing up anything else would have been fine, but dragging my parents into it instantly ignited my fury, and I exposed everything she had done one by one. “Isn’t it true? We have to pay a $150 class fee every semester, but you never publish where these funds go. Weren’t they all embezzled by you? And you secretly accept gifts from parents behind the scenes. Every position in the class has a clear price tag. Do you think we’re all blind?” My words sent a shockwave through the classroom, followed by gasps. Someone realized: “Holy shit, so the class fees were embezzled by her! I was wondering why our class paid ten times more than other classes.” “Are you an idiot? You’re just realizing this now?! If Queen B didn’t give us enough normally, who knows how long I would have had to eat instant ramen to make up for that $150.” Mrs. Davis’s face was now as white as a sheet of paper. In a panic, she stammered: “O-other teachers do this too!” The next second, she violently covered her mouth. But it was too late. That sentence proved everything I said was true. Long ago, she had hinted that I should send her gifts. My dad’s assistant had even prepared a debit card. After all, in their eyes, spending some money to make my life at school more comfortable was well worth it. But I refused. Because in my eyes, there’s a difference between giving voluntarily and being forced to give. I hadn’t reached the point where I needed to be manipulated by a counselor. From the moment this homeroom meeting began, I knew the focus wasn’t on judging me, but on the “apologize and hope the counselor won’t hold a grudge” phase afterward. Unfortunately for her, Mrs. Davis had kicked a steel plate. 04 After the homeroom meeting ended, all the students, filled with righteous indignation, reported the counselor’s bribery to the school administration. Often, parents give gifts secretly so their children don’t have to worry. When they asked their parents, they found out that almost all of them had been hinted at by Mrs. Davis. And they had all obediently given gifts. Instantly furious, they wanted to kick down the principal’s door and demand an explanation. So very quickly, Mrs. Davis was fired and replaced by a young woman who had just graduated. And because Chloe was a snitch, she was blacklisted in the hearts of all our classmates. She was completely isolated in every class; no one even wanted to sit next to her. Chloe blamed all of this on me. She even went around spreading rumors to students in other classes who didn’t know the truth: “That Audrey Miller acts like a tyrant in our class. I just pointed out her mistakes, and she actually led the charge to isolate me. Even Mrs. Davis, who spoke up for me, was pushed out by her.” The students who heard her complaints looked hesitant: “Huh? But I heard Mrs. Davis was fired for accepting bribes.” Chloe panicked: “Of course that’s the excuse they used! Our class is full of greedy people who were bought off by Audrey Miller’s petty cash. They twisted the truth, spread rumors, and forced out a good teacher just like that!” I stood behind the two of them, arms crossed, and sneered: “The one spreading rumors is you, right?” Both of them froze. After a few seconds of stiffness, Chloe turned around and scolded: “How dare you, Audrey Miller, eavesdrop on our conversation!” I rolled my eyes: “Please, this is a lecture hall, a public place. Your voice badmouthing me was so loud, it would be hard not to hear you.” Although Chloe was sitting in the last row, she deliberately raised her voice. She wanted the students around her to “accidentally” hear my gossip, get a bad impression of me, and then sympathize with her. Using other people’s private lives to spark interest and form cliques. Such a childish trick—I thought only elementary school kids used it. I knocked my knuckles on the desk and said to the girl next to Chloe: “Give up your seat.” Chloe grabbed the girl’s arm and glared at me: “Why should she? Don’t give it up!” I didn’t waste any more words and pulled out my phone: “Here, pull up your Venmo QR code.” The girl had clearly heard about my generosity. Her eyes lit up, and she quickly pulled out her phone. “Ding, $750 received.” The girl couldn’t suppress the excitement on her face. She quickly stood up, gave a slight bow, and said: “Please, have a seat!” Then she ran off to an empty seat in the front row. Chloe’s face looked like she had swallowed a fly: “Spit! Another money-grubber!” Then, she looked at me, taking my seat, as if facing a mortal enemy. “W-what are you going to do?” I chuckled softly: “You really look down on me and my money, don’t you?” Chloe scoffed coldly, showing disdain: “Glad you know. I came to college to study, unlike you, ruining the academic atmosphere. It makes me lose my focus.” “Then do you know that your scholarship is also my family’s money?” Our college’s scholarship is very unique. In other colleges, only top students or those with high rankings can get it. But in our college, the scholarship covers 100% of the students. And all of this is funded by my dad. His original intention was to hope that other students would take better care of me because of this. But now, this money was falling into the hands of someone like Chloe. As the owner of this money, I was pissed. Chloe raised her chin: “So what! I earned this scholarship through my own hard work. It has nothing to do with who funded it!” I smiled faintly: “Is that so? Then let me inform you, from now on, you will be the only person in the entire college who cannot receive this money. Since you treat money like dirt, having a little less shouldn’t matter, right?” Chloe’s face instantly went white, and her voice became shrill: “Audrey Miller, what gives you the right?!” With a cold face, I yelled louder than her: “Because this money comes from my family! Because you, blind fool, dare to spread rumors about me everywhere!” Chloe was a bully to the weak but a coward to the strong. Seeing my aura overpower hers, she immediately backed down. She stammered: “You… you… the counselor won’t allow you to act so recklessly!” With that, she ran to the office to complain to the new counselor. However, the counselor couldn’t do anything about it. She sighed: “At the end of the day, this money really is from Audrey’s family. If they don’t want to give it to you, what can we do? We can’t reach into her pocket and force her. It’s useless to come to me about this; it’s useless to go to the department head or the principal. If you want a scholarship, you can work hard yourself, get to the top of the class for finals, and get the one issued by the university.” Chloe’s face flushed with anxiety, and she stomped her foot: “But even if I get into the top ten, the university’s scholarship isn’t as much as Audrey’s family gives!” A big reason she transferred to this major was hearing that the college offered generous scholarships. But now, because she offended me, the scholarship was gone. And her academic ranking had slipped to the very bottom. It was a complete loss. She wasn’t a highly gifted student. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get into the top ten to get the university’s scholarship. The new counselor massaged her temples: “Exactly. So why did you provoke her?” Seeing that this new counselor wasn’t protecting her like Mrs. Davis did, Chloe could only walk out of the office with red eyes. Later, I heard from her roommates that Chloe’s living expenses weren’t enough to cover her costs, so she had to take a part-time job. But she was afraid of being laughed at by people she knew, so she secretly worked as an internet cafe attendant in the middle of the night. Sleep-deprived, she became irritable, looked much more haggard, and her grades plummeted even further.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439055”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I quickly dialed 911. The reason? I had just returned home from a month-long trip to the Maldives only to encounter an infuriating scene. Previously, the housekeeper, without my permission, had brought her daughter to live in the house. At the time, she swore the mother and daughter would only stay in the staff quarters, so I didn’t press the issue further. Until that day, a lease agreement on the living room table caught my eye. Beside it was a glaring sticky note that read: “Shameless, living in my house for so long for free. Starting next month, I’m collecting rent, twenty thousand a month, six months deposit, three months upfront!” I was holding the contract, about to confront the housekeeper, when her daughter, arms crossed, rolled her eyes at me disdainfully. She preemptively questioned, “You’ve lived here for so long, have you paid a single penny in rent? Now I’m just claiming what’s rightfully mine. What right do you have to complain?” Her twisted words made me laugh in anger. It seemed I couldn’t let them get away with this without teaching them a lesson. 1 “911? I’d like to report a trespasser.” Hearing I was calling the police, Mandy’s face instantly changed. “Are you crazy? This is my house. Why are you calling the police?” I ignored her, stating the address into the phone. “Yes, someone has unlawfully entered a private residence and is suspected of extortion. There’s written evidence on site.” Mrs. Kinnear rushed out of the kitchen, clutching a handful of greens. “What’s going on?” Seeing the lease agreement in my hand and her daughter’s pale face, the greens in her hand dropped to the floor with a thud. “Ma’am! Ma’am, this is a misunderstanding, Mandy, she doesn’t know any better…” Mrs. Kinnear lunged forward to apologize to me, but Mandy blocked her. “Mom, don’t beg her!” Mandy stiffened her neck, though her voice began to waver. “She dares to call the police? She dares to let the police check whose house this is? She’s just a kept woman…” “Mandy,” I cut her off, “say one more word, and I’ll have you locked up for defamation too.” She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The police arrived quickly. Two young officers, one taking notes, the other examining the scene. The lease agreement was put into an evidence bag, and the handwriting on the sticky note was photographed for evidence. Mandy stood in the corner, her phone clutched in her hand, the screen flashing repeatedly. I wondered who she was texting. “Ms. Ford,” the officer taking notes looked up at me, “who is the owner of this house?” I said, “Me, Clara Ford. The property deed is in my bedroom safe. I can retrieve it if needed.” “No need.” He closed his notebook. “The on-site evidence is sufficient. However, we need to confirm the relationship between Ms. Kinnear and you?” I glanced at Mandy. She still wore an arrogant, unrepentant expression. “No relation.” “She’s my housekeeper’s daughter. She moved in without my permission and forged a lease agreement to charge me rent.” Mandy suddenly shrieked, “What forged? That contract is real! This house is mine!” “Mandy!” Mrs. Kinnear clapped a hand over her daughter’s mouth, trembling all over. “Stop talking, Mom’s begging you, stop talking…” The officers exchanged glances. One of them told Mandy, “Ms. Kinnear, please come back to the station with us to assist with the investigation. You are suspected of unlawful entry and extortion, which requires further verification.” I watched her coldly, saying nothing. Mrs. Kinnear suddenly knelt down, her forehead pressed to the floor, knocking repeatedly. “Ma’am! Ma’am, I beg you! Mandy’s father died early, I didn’t raise her well. Please, for the sake of me saving you a year ago, spare her this one time…” Her forehead hit the flagstone, making a dull thud. I looked at her greying temples, remembering that rainy night when she also knelt on the ground, begging the doctor to save me. A year ago, I had a miscarriage and fainted on the staircase. Mrs. Kinnear discovered me when she got up in the night. She immediately called for an ambulance and got me to the hospital, which allowed me to receive timely emergency care and saved my life. That’s why I always treated her like family, giving her a generous bonus during holidays and special occasions. “Mrs. Kinnear,” I knelt down, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Please get up.” “Unless Ma’am agrees, I won’t get up…” I sighed. “I agree. I won’t pursue this.” I looked at the police officer. “We’re settling. No charges.” The officer seemed surprised. “Ms. Ford, the evidence is conclusive. Following procedure would mean at least fifteen days in detention. Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” I said. “Mrs. Kinnear saved my life. Today, I won’t pursue charges. Consider it repayment for her kindness.” Mandy froze, as if she hadn’t expected me to let her off so easily. Her expression shifted from fright to confusion, then finally to a barely concealed smugness. She thought I was afraid, that I had some secret leverage preventing me from escalating the situation. I looked at Mandy. “But, if I ever see anything like this again, there won’t be such an easy settlement.” She pouted, saying nothing. “Also,” I pointed to her pajamas, “take those clothes off, wash them, and leave them outside my bedroom door. I want to see them tomorrow morning.” Her face flushed crimson, but with the police still present, she dared not lash out. I turned and went upstairs, hearing Mrs. Kinnear’s endless thanks behind me, and Mandy’s low murmur: “What’s the big deal? It’s not even her house, putting on airs…” Two months ago, my husband and I went on vacation to the Maldives. Only Mrs. Kinnear was left at home. To my surprise, upon returning, I found the house in disarray. My treasured red wine, my silk pajamas. All ruined by someone. I initially thought the house had been robbed and was about to call the police. Mrs. Kinnear, who had just returned from grocery shopping, saw it and tearfully begged for my forgiveness. It turned out her daughter had just come to the city for a job and had nowhere to stay. Mrs. Kinnear thought the house was empty anyway, so she let her stay for a while. She repeatedly promised. She wouldn’t let Mandy touch anything in the house again, and her activities would be confined to the staff quarters. Seeing the mother and daughter, dependent on each other, seemed truly pitiful, so I reluctantly agreed. As a result, Mandy not only wandered around my villa every day but also used my bathtub without permission and stole my skincare products. I tolerated it again and again. To my surprise, a month later, Mandy tossed a lease agreement at me. The lessor on the contract was even her name! I had let her live here, eat and stay for free, yet she turned around and demanded rent from me. That evening, Mrs. Kinnear, her eyes red, knocked on my bedroom door. She handed me the envelopes of money I had given her over the years, her voice hoarse. “Ma’am, it’s my daughter being foolish, causing you trouble. But I’m an old woman, and I only have this one daughter… It’s all my fault, I didn’t raise her well. I left her in the countryside since she was little, didn’t look after her properly.” “Please, in your great generosity, don’t hold it against her. She’s just a child. I’ll make her move out as soon as she finds a job, okay?” “This money is our rent, mother and daughter.” Seeing her like this, I remembered the child I’d lost to miscarriage and couldn’t help but soften. I stuffed the envelopes back into her pocket, ultimately not having the heart to kick them out. “You can continue to stay here.” “But if I find her touching my things again, don’t expect me to be so lenient.” The next morning, as I went downstairs for coffee, Mandy was already sitting at the dining table, fully dressed. She had changed out of my silk pajamas, wearing one of Mrs. Kinnear’s old jackets, her hair neatly tied back, a laptop open in front of her. “Morning, Ms. Ford.” She greeted me with a smile, as if nothing had happened yesterday. “I’m looking for a job. Am I bothering you?” I ignored her, heading directly to the coffee machine. “Oh, right,” she suddenly said, “I posted a TikTok last night, accidentally filmed the living room. Netizens say this house is beautiful.” My hand paused. “Delete it.” “Why should I?” She tilted her head, looking innocent. “I didn’t film you; I filmed my house. Oh, no, it’s your house now, but eventually…” She didn’t finish, just looked at me with a meaningful smile. “Mandy,” I turned, articulating each word, “I’m saying this one last time. This house is mine. My name is on the deed. If you spread any more nonsense, I will hire a lawyer to sue you for defamation.” “Yours?” She scoffed, her fingers typing rapidly on the keyboard. “Clara Ford, do you think I don’t know? This house belongs to Sterling Julian, the heir to the Sterling Group. You’re just his kept woman. You actually think you’re the lady of the house?” I froze. How did she know Sterling? Sterling and I had been secretly married for three years, never publicly announcing it. Even Mrs. Kinnear only knew my husband’s last name was Sterling, and that he occasionally traveled for work, never asking too many questions. “Don’t look at me like that,” Mandy said, confidently lifting her chin. “I checked. This villa is registered under Sterling Julian’s name. You’re a woman with no official status, living here for free, eating and drinking, and you still have the nerve to put on airs with me?” She stood up, leaning close to my ear, her voice soft as a serpent’s hiss. “Clara Ford, aren’t you just a mistress? Why the act?” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. So that was it. She thought I was Sterling’s mistress, thought she had leverage over me, which was why she dared to be so arrogant. I had intended to explain, but looking at her face, filled with greed and calculation, I suddenly felt it was unnecessary. Explaining to an idiot was a waste of breath. I poured myself a cup of coffee and returned to my room. “Think what you like.” I occasionally scrolled through Mandy’s TikTok, finding her follower count growing alarmingly fast. The video title was “A Day in the Life of a Heiress.” She made breakfast in my kitchen, tried on clothes in my walk-in closet, and had afternoon tea by my pool. She never showed her full face, either filming her back or wearing a mask, coupled with lazy background music and exquisite filters, creating the persona of a mysterious rich girl. The comments section was full of envious messages: [So beautiful, which mansion is this?] [Heard this is the Sterling Group heir’s house. Is she Mrs. Sterling?] [Secret marriage confirmed! Someone once filmed Sterling Julian with a mysterious woman, could it be her?] She never denied it, only posted ambiguous emojis. Friday evening, as I went downstairs for water, I heard an argument from Mrs. Kinnear’s room. “…Are you crazy? That’s illegal!” Mrs. Kinnear’s voice was tearful. “Mom, what do you know? This is called monetizing traffic!” Mandy said impatiently. “Do you know how much I get for one ad? Fifty thousand! Fifty thousand! You won’t earn that in a lifetime as a housekeeper!” “But this is lying… Ma’am, she…” “She what? She’s just a mistress! Flaunting herself in Sterling’s house. I’m just carrying out divine justice!” I leaned against the wall, listening quietly. “Mom, just stay out of it. Once I get a million followers, I’ll land a big deal. Then we’ll move out, buy our own house, and never have to suffer anyone’s bad temper again!” Mrs. Kinnear was still crying, but her voice faded. I carried my water glass upstairs, my heart icy cold. So Mrs. Kinnear knew. But she chose to remain silent. Monday morning, I was woken by my phone vibrating frantically. Checking it, I saw dozens of missed calls, 99+ WhatsApp messages, all from friends and business partners. “Clara, have you seen the trending topic?” “Are you okay? Do you need my help?” “Who is this woman? How dare she?” I opened Twitter. The top trending topic glaringly read: #SterlingJulian’sSecretWife# Clicking into it, the pinned post was a long article by a marketing account, accompanied by screenshots from Mandy’s TikTok. The article vividly narrated: “Sterling Group heir Sterling Julian, secretly married for three years, his wife turns out to be the mysterious online celebrity ‘MandyB’. It is reported that the woman lives in Sterling Julian’s mansion, regularly sharing her opulent lifestyle. Recently, netizens uncovered her true identity…” The comments section was full of blessings. The few dissenting voices were immediately attacked by fans: [Haters begone! Does the legitimate wife need to prove herself to you?] Soon after, another ID named “TruthDigger” jumped out and posted a tweet. He posted nine pictures: me and Sterling in a restaurant, us entering a hotel together, him picking me up at the airport. In the photos, my face was either in profile or my back was turned, but it was clearly the same person. The caption read: [Sterling Julian, secretly married for three years, his wife is discreet and virtuous, yet someone took advantage and interfered. According to insiders, the woman’s last name is Ford, CEO of a certain company, who approached Sterling Julian under the guise of work, repeatedly entering his private residence. Mrs. Sterling, kind and forbearing, was repeatedly provoked and insulted by the other party. Justice may be delayed, but it will not be denied.] The comments section had gone insane. [Holy sh*t! Mistress get lost!] [This woman has the face of a vixen!] [Poor Mrs. Sterling, you can tell from her face she’s kind and easily bullied!] [Last name Ford? Is it that Clara Ford? I always thought she was fake!] I scrolled down and saw my photos photoshopped into various monstrous images, captioned “Mistress, go die.” Someone had dug up my company’s address, and others were talking about sending me funeral wreaths. My phone rang again. It was my assistant, Leo, his voice tearful. “Ms. Ford, the company building is surrounded by reporters, and… and people are throwing things. Please don’t come in today…” I hung up, trembling with anger. I rushed downstairs. Mandy was sitting in the living room, a tripod set up in front of her, livestreaming. She was wearing full makeup today, and my custom-made gown. “Yes, my husband is Sterling Julian. We’ve been married for three years. I didn’t want to go public before because I was afraid it would affect his work, but I never expected to be taken advantage of…” She saw me, her eyes lit up, and she said to the camera, “Oh dear, speak of the devil. Everyone, look, this is the mistress who has been living in my house, Clara Ford.” She spoke, her voice choked with sobs, “I kindly took her in, let her live in my house, but I never expected her to… to be so shameless…” She covered her mouth, as if she couldn’t continue. The comments section instantly exploded: [Holy cow! The true wife is confronting the mistress!] [This woman has such thick skin, still daring to show up!] [Go, MandyB, go! Tear down that home-wrecker!] [Took her in? A mistress living in the real wife’s house?]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439040”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After transmigrating as the mother of a Mary Sue novel’s female protagonist, I awakened a System. Beside me lay a babbling infant. The System’s voice buzzed with excitement: “You need to abandon her. Leave her with her alcoholic, abusive father. “She will grow up amidst hardship and abuse, blooming like a resilient wildflower in adversity, which will ultimately attract the attention of the heir to the Sterling Group. “Once they are married, you can come back to acknowledge her, and you’ll get to live a life of luxury in high society.” I looked at the giggling baby and stayed silent for a long time. “What if I don’t abandon her?” The System froze, clearly not expecting anyone to ask that. Quickly, its tone turned mocking: “Then she will become the most ordinary, average person. She’ll go to a normal school, work a normal job, and she will never catch the CEO’s eye.” I smiled. “That sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?” If all her suffering is merely to attract a man’s attention… Then not going through that suffering is a beautiful thing, isn’t it? 01 I kept the baby. No, she shouldn’t be called Bella Vance anymore. She is now Harper Reed. I ignored the System’s protests and changed her name from the original novel. She takes my last name now. I hate how girls in these novels are always given names that sound fragile, delicate, and overly sweet. Meanwhile, the male leads get names carefully handpicked from classic literature, brimming with depth and power. I love the name Harper Reed. Like a strong reed, standing tall and reaching for the sun. I want my daughter to escape the fate of depending on others and to live independently and freely. 02 When Harper turned seven, she started elementary school. She was cheerful and outgoing, loved by her teachers and classmates alike. Until one day, she came home crying. The French braids I had carefully styled for her were a mess. I asked her what happened. She choked out, “Tommy keeps pulling my braids during class.” I knew Tommy. He sat right behind my daughter. I met him at parent-teacher night—a skinny kid who looked a bit too sly for his age. I frowned. “Did you tell the teacher?” Harper nodded. “I did, but…” She hesitated. “But the teacher said Tommy only pulls my hair because he likes me.” I didn’t lose my temper in front of my daughter. Instead, I gently knelt down and said: “Let’s go talk to Ms. Higgins together, okay?” In the office, the teacher with the red-rimmed glasses looked up from her lesson plans with a teasing smile. She pointed her chin toward my daughter, whom I had seated further away. “Harper is a very pretty girl, and a lot of the little boys in class like her. You know how it is, boys at this age don’t know how to express their feelings, so they tease her a bit, pull a braid here and there.” She seemed to want to use that subtle smile to lump us into the same category. A category of women who had endured the same treatment but were supposed to wear it as a badge of pride. But as I remained silent, her smile gradually stiffened. I said flatly, “I don’t ‘know how it is.’ All I know is that my daughter was bullied, and this is harassment.” The teacher seemed offended by the severity of the word. She slammed her thermos down and sat up straight. “Ms. Reed, you are being unreasonable. They are just kids. What do they know about harassment? They’re just playing around.” “Playing around?” I repeated her words. “If it’s just playing around, can we move Tommy to sit directly behind your daughter?” It was an open secret that Ms. Higgins’s daughter was also in this class. The teacher, who had been arguing so vehemently, suddenly froze. And then I understood. It wasn’t that she didn’t know it was wrong; she just didn’t want to deal with it. Just like many hidden rules in our society. They are clearly wrong, but for hundreds of years, no one has stood up to say no. Because breaking the rules is much harder than following them. Tossing out a flippant “they’re just playing” is so much easier than putting in the effort to teach boys to respect women from a young age. But I was going to break that rule. For my daughter. And for the countless girls in the future who would have their braids pulled. To tell them: This is not love. This is bullying. This is harassment. “Ms. Higgins,” I called her back to reality. “You have two choices right now. Number one: you move Tommy to sit behind your daughter. Number two: you separate Tommy from my daughter, and you teach the boys in your class that the right way to like someone is never to bully them, but to respect and care for them.” The teacher suddenly deflated like a popped balloon. “I’ll choose the second one.” Satisfied, I took my daughter’s hand and left. As we walked out, Ms. Higgins indignantly called out, “Ms. Reed, micromanaging like this will affect your child’s normal social development!” Without turning back, I said firmly, “That is none of your concern.” When we got home, I shared my worries with Harper. “Sweetheart, if Tommy stops playing with you because of what Mommy did today, will you be sad?” Over the years, my daughter and I had a pact: always be honest and never keep things bottled up. Harper thought for a moment, then asked timidly, “Does that mean Tommy will never pull my braids again?” I nodded. “Yes.” She suddenly lunged forward and hugged me, her eyes sparkling. “Then you are the best mommy in the whole wide world!” Wrapped in her warm, soft little arms, all my worries vanished. I thought to myself, this is truly the best compliment in the world. 03 That night, after my daughter fell asleep, the System popped up. Ever since I took matters into my own hands and kept Harper, it rarely showed up. It was a silent protest against my actions. But to ensure our mission was completed, it would still occasionally pop out to remind me. Like today— “Host, our ultimate goal is to get the female lead’s Happiness Index to 100%. You need to work harder.” I was suddenly curious. “According to the original plot, when does she hit 100%?” System: “When she marries the heir to the Sterling Group, of course.” I asked, “And what about after the wedding? What is her happiness index then? Have you guys ever checked?” The System suddenly went quiet. And I knew. They had never checked. Just like fairytales that always end with “and the prince and princess lived happily ever after.” But what happens after? Does the princess ever get homesick? While learning strict royal etiquette, does she ever miss the days she ran free in the forest? Is she tormented by conflicts with her in-laws? Will the prince one day fall in love with someone else? All of these things… no one cares about. If happiness is fraught with anxiety and fear of loss, then it cannot be called true happiness. Because something so fleeting cannot support a lifetime. I asked, “What is Harper’s Happiness Index right now? Can you check?” Not out of a system-host’s ambition, but out of a mother’s curiosity. Is my daughter happy right now? The System disappeared for a moment, presumably checking the data. A few seconds later, its voice cracked, completely losing control: “54%… How is this possible?! This is the index she is supposed to reach only after enduring unimaginable suffering, meeting Preston Sterling for the first time, and being rescued by him! What on earth did you do?” I looked down at my sleeping daughter and smiled. “I just did what a mother is supposed to do.” It turns out, the one who saves the princess doesn’t have to be a prince. It can also be the queen. And I believe that in the near future, the one who saves the princess will be the princess herself. 04 A few years flew by, and Harper started high school. Her grades were excellent, and she showed exceptional talent in STEM, especially math. She ranked first in the entire grade in math almost every single time. But one day, she came home looking incredibly depressed and didn’t say a word. I immediately sensed something was wrong and asked: “Are you upset about your latest test scores?” Her voice instantly choked up. “A transfer student joined our grade. On his first exam, he took first place in everything. Including math.” I understood her pain. Having someone beat you in the exact field you excel at is definitely a hard pill to swallow. So I gently asked, “How many students are in your grade, sweetie?” Harper thought for a second. “Six hundred and forty-five.” I smiled. “See? So you didn’t just lose to one person. You beat six hundred and forty-three other people. That’s already incredibly amazing.” Hearing my comfort, her mood visibly improved. But she still looked a bit down. “Mom, our math teacher said girls just aren’t naturally good at STEM. He said even if I’m doing well now, by senior year, the boys will inevitably overtake me.” I kept my smile bright. “And which teacher made this brilliant deduction?” Which. Teacher. Harper sighed. “Our math teacher. He’s the Vice Principal.” The System gloated in my head: “Uh-oh, this one won’t be so easy to deal with.” I turned my head and pondered for a moment. “Sweetheart, do you want to transfer to a better private prep school?” Private schools were much more expensive, but the educational resources were visibly superior. Most importantly, instead of just treating students like subordinates, they treated them like clients. So if someone dared to say “girls aren’t suited for STEM,” I would have the leverage to argue back fiercely. But to my surprise, the one who panicked more than Harper was the System. It screamed in my head: “NO YOU CANNOT!!!” I closed my eyes, annoyed. “Why are you freaking out?” The System frantically explained: “That new transfer student is the secondary male lead! He is a natural genius. He barely tries and gets first place. The female lead is supposed to be crushed by him at first, but gradually, she’ll look up to him as a role model, and their feelings for each other will blossom!” I was confused. “And?” The System was practically tearing its hair out. “Don’t you get it? He’s supposed to be the guiding light on her academic journey!” I kept my bewildered tone. “Treating a rival as a role model just means my daughter has a great mindset. What does that have to do with who the guy is?” The System choked. “But… but…” It stammered for ages without making a coherent point. I continued smoothly, “Forcing the female lead to face setbacks and ‘grow’ isn’t loving the female lead. It’s just creating an opportunity for the male character to show off. At its core, it only glorifies the men. “True love is paving a smooth path for her, giving her the tools to step over everyone else and climb to the very top.” The System fell silent for a long time. Finally, it whimpered, “But in all the missions I’ve ever run, the plot is always like this. The female lead HAS to be misunderstood, framed by villains, and endure every hardship imaginable before she can rise from the ashes and find true happiness.” I shook my head, pointing out sharply, “Then think about the male leads in those stories. Aren’t they always heirs to massive conglomerates? The biggest hardship they ever face in their entire lives is a mild stomach ulcer. The female lead’s happiness relies entirely on his love. If he retracts his love, she loses everything.” I concluded, “These stories are categorized as ‘women’s romance,’ but fundamentally, they’re just male power fantasies.” The System finally stopped arguing. I had completely dismantled its logic. After a while, it sighed. “But if she leaves the secondary male lead, we lose a major plot device to boost her Happiness Index. How is the story supposed to progress now…” I didn’t answer it. Because at that moment, Harper had made up her mind. Her eyes danced with excitement, but she still hesitated. “Can we really? But private school tuition is so expensive.” I smiled and stroked her hair. “Of course we can. Mom has made quite a bit of money over the years.” Over the years, besides raising my daughter, I had been learning to run my own businesses. I didn’t just sit around waiting to die like the original character, hoping to become a rich mother-in-law once my daughter married into wealth. Harper’s eyes grew red, tears rolling down her cheeks. She hugged me tightly. “Thank you, Mom. I know you’re doing this to give me a better environment. I promise I will study so hard and make you proud!” In that moment, I thought, My daughter really has grown up. I used to see parents who loved to practice “hardship education,” constantly complaining to their kids about how exhausted they were and how much they sacrificed. But why do that? It just breeds unnecessary guilt. If you genuinely treat a child well, they will naturally feel it. I wrapped my arms around Harper. “Mom’s greatest hope isn’t about how high your grades are. It’s that you are genuinely happy.” 05 The transfer process was incredibly smooth. With the shadow lifted from her heart, she became even more determined in her studies. I also hired a private math tutor for her. She was a female grad student from MIT’s math department. Perhaps right now, in the STEM fields, there are relatively fewer women reaching the very apex. But that doesn’t mean “girls are inherently unsuited for STEM.” On the contrary, it’s precisely because there are so many questioning voices on this path that girls become increasingly lost and doubtful. More than just tutoring her coursework, my goal in hiring this specific teacher was to provide a role model. Even if very few people walk this path, as long as someone has done it, it proves the path is passable. If someone else can do it, then I believe my daughter can do it too. Because she is so brilliant and resilient. … The day Harper finished her SATs and college entrance exams, my company officially went public. Standing outside the testing center waiting for her, I asked the System, “Can you check Harper’s Happiness Index right now?” System: “One moment.” A few seconds later, it gasped, “76%!” I didn’t understand the scale. “Is that high?” The System’s voice was trembling. “Very high! Out of all the hosts running missions concurrently right now, your score is the highest!” At that moment, Harper came skipping out of the building. She grabbed my arm, smiling brightly. “Mom! The exams went incredibly smoothly. I’m confident. I guarantee you’re going to get a call from MIT admissions!” I smiled and took her backpack. “Oh my god, I guess I’ll be riding my little bamboo shoot’s coattails.” In the original novel, Bella Vance had to work multiple part-time jobs just to scrape together tuition while going to school. Despite working incredibly hard, she was still inevitably dragged down by external drama. She ended up at a perfectly average state college. In this life, I cleared all the obstacles from her path, allowing her to study with peace of mind. She was able to utilize her full potential, getting accepted into the top university in the country. Her life path was visibly widening. Even if she didn’t marry into a wealthy family in the future, she possessed the ability to become her own empire. The System sighed in my head. “Host, maybe your choices were right. You truly changed her life, and you’ve changed my perspective too.” I smirked, neither confirming nor denying. 06 Harper was accepted into MIT’s math department, just as she wished. She was invited back to her old high school to give a speech. On the auditorium stage, Harper stood radiant and confident. After sharing her study tips, she said: “…And finally, I want to say this to all the girls in the audience today. If a teacher ever tells you, ‘Girls aren’t suited for STEM,’ or ‘Boys are late bloomers and will overtake you soon,’ please, absolutely do not believe them. “I am standing here today hoping that in the future, when you start to doubt yourself and your abilities, you’ll think of me. You’ll remember that someone once got into MIT’s math department, and she was a girl too.” The auditorium erupted in thunderous applause. I saw with my own eyes several girls who had been staring at the floor, bored out of their minds, suddenly snap their heads up, their eyes shining brightly. I also saw the Vice Principal who had once belittled my daughter turn ashen. The Principal standing next to him suddenly looked like he had a revelation. As if he finally understood why, despite his desperate attempts to make us stay, he couldn’t change my daughter’s mind about transferring. Losing a top-tier student capable of getting into MIT must have caused him unimaginable frustration. But I didn’t know, and I didn’t care to find out. We had already sailed past those turbulent waters. 07 After Harper went off to college, I poured my focus into my career. We were both fighting hard in our respective fields. A nosy acquaintance once tried to advise me: “Why are you working so hard? You have a daughter, not a son. It’s not like you have to buy her a house or pay for a wedding dowry.” I gave a polite smile. “Wow, being your daughter must be miserable. Thankfully, my daughter is much luckier. The harder I work now, the less she’ll have to suffer in the future. Everything I have is hers, and it’s not just limited to a few houses or a wedding fund.” Her face paled, and she quickly shut her mouth. After she left, the System asked me, “Host, I don’t really understand human emotions. Did she say that because she has a son?” I shook my head. “No. She has a daughter too. An only child.” The System was surprised. “Then why did she say that to you? Doesn’t she love her daughter?” I was silent for a long time, unsure how to explain the complexities of human nature to a machine. “Maybe she loves her, but obviously, even though she gave birth to a girl, she still harbors a deep-seated preference for boys.” Believing that having a son means you have to hustle and fight, but having a daughter means you can kick back and relax. It’s the subtle misogyny ingrained in many people’s minds. In their hearts, they perhaps favor the phantom son they never had. As a result, they project those feelings onto sons-in-law or nephews. So, is it love? Maybe it is, but it’s not a complete love. After all, “where the money goes is where the love flows” is the ultimate, unchanging truth. 08 During Harper’s third month of college, my ex-husband showed up. The System told me that after my daughter got into MIT, our old rural county hung up banners celebrating the news. Unfortunately, my alcoholic ex-husband saw them. He did some digging and discovered that I had founded my own company and was making a fortune. So he went through incredible lengths to get my contact info, demanding money. But I ignored his texts and calls. He showed up at my office building, but security threw him out. He tried to ambush me on the street, but before he could even get close, my personal bodyguards pinned him to the ground. I worked this hard to make money precisely so I could keep toxic garbage like him far away from me. I smiled and told him that if he ever dared to show his face near me again, the people greeting him wouldn’t be licensed bodyguards, but local thugs with a burlap sack. My ex-husband was a coward who preyed on the weak. He nodded frantically, trembling like a leaf. However, not long after, the System informed me that my ex-husband had gone to MIT to find our daughter. I instantly tensed up. “Did he do anything crazy?” I was genuinely terrified that a scumbag like him wouldn’t care about my daughter’s future. He might literally hold up a protest banner at the campus gates or harass her professors and the dean. Making a massive public scene just to blackmail her for cash. The System reassured me: “He didn’t do anything crazy. Your threats terrified him, so he didn’t dare make a scene. He went secretly. This time he’s playing the pity card, claiming he’s destitute and starving, hoping Harper will get a few thousand bucks from you to give to him.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.” The System asked, confused: “Aren’t you worried Harper will be manipulated by him? After all, you’ve never really talked about her dad to her over the years. She doesn’t know her father is an abusive alcoholic. What if she feels sorry for him?” I tapped my index finger on the desk, my eyes darkening. “I trust she has the ability to distinguish right from wrong… Even if she gets scammed this time, consider it a life lesson. It’s just a few thousand bucks. I can afford that tuition.” Not long after, Harper texted me. She said she was entering an AI Robotics Competition at school and needed $30,000 in seed funding. The System sighed in my head. “Looks like she caved.” I didn’t say a word. I just wired the money over. “Host, why don’t you just expose Richard’s lies? And aren’t you angry that Harper lied to you for her father?” I slowly shook my head. I once read a quote: Love is feeling a constant sense of debt. Perhaps that best described my state of mind right now. I didn’t blame my daughter for lying to me. I actually started reflecting on myself. Was it because I hadn’t given her enough love over the years that she would feel sympathy for a “father” she hadn’t seen in over a decade? Thinking of this, I texted my daughter: You’re in college now, entering competitions, your expenses are definitely going up. Mom is increasing your monthly allowance by $2,000. If you need anything, just tell me. Don’t be too frugal with yourself. Her reply was a sweet: Okay, thank you Mom, mwah! 09 A month later, I received a package from an unfamiliar sender. The recipient listed was Harper. That night, my daughter called me, brimming with excitement. “Mom, did you get the package? Open it quickly!” I hesitated for a moment. “What is it? It’s your stuff, I shouldn’t open it. How about we wait until you come home for the holidays?” “I specifically put the home address so you could open it yourself!” Hearing that, my reservations vanished. But when I opened the package, the contents left me utterly shocked. It was a certificate holder, and on the front in gold lettering, it read: “AI Robotics Championship – Gold Medal.” My daughter sounded incredibly smug on the phone: “Am I amazing or what?! Our team’s project even filed for a patent. Big tech companies have already reached out for consultations. We might be able to sell it for a million dollars! That $30,000 investment definitely paid off.” I was too shocked to speak. That money… she actually used it for the competition? “Mom? Mom? Are you still there?” Harper’s voice pulled me back to reality. I quickly responded, “Sorry, sorry, I just spaced out. You are incredible! Mom is so proud of you.” Harper giggled, but then her tone turned hesitant. “Actually, there’s something else…” I held my breath. “My dad came to find me a while ago.” I took a deep breath. “He asked me for money. I ignored him. I debated for a long time whether to tell you. “I was afraid you might feel bad for him, so I didn’t dare say anything. But then I thought about it, and you have the right to know. After all, he was your husband. “Even though you never told me why you two separated, I’m guessing he must have done something terrible to you. “But no matter what, whether you want to help him out or cut him off completely, I support your decision.” After Harper finished, she waited in cautious silence for my reply. Her tone sounded exactly like someone talking to a hopelessly romantic best friend. Terrified she would get hurt, terrified she would go back to a toxic ex. Yet, after immense inner turmoil, resolving to respect whatever decision she made. Though I didn’t want to admit it, in that moment, my eyes welled with tears. I used to think that being a parent meant nothing but giving. Giving unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. But when I saw that the seeds I planted had blossomed into such beautiful fruit, I couldn’t help but feel that every hardship had been worth it. As a mother, I was now the one being cared for, being understood, being supported by her. My little bamboo shoot had truly grown into a tall, resilient bamboo tree. I sniffled quietly, not wanting her to hear my emotions over the phone. “I understand. I won’t give him any money, and I definitely won’t get back together with him. Don’t worry.” As soon as I said that, Harper seemed to let out a massive sigh of relief. “I knew it! My mom is the smartest, most rational mom in the world!” After hanging up, the System, which had been silent, suddenly spoke. “Host, Harper’s Happiness Index just jumped another 5%. It’s at 81% now.” The tears I had just stopped fell once again. My daughter was happy because I was free from suffering. My happiness had become a part of her happiness. 10 During Harper’s sophomore year, the System suddenly alerted me: “Host, Harper just met Preston Sterling.” I was a bit surprised. “I already altered her life trajectory. Why did they still meet?” The System explained: “In the original plot, the female lead bumped into the male lead while working a part-time job at a coffee shop. Now, they’re schoolmates at MIT. They met at the back-to-school gala.” I couldn’t help but sigh. “Fate is like a sudden downpour. Those without an umbrella can’t hide, and those trying to get wet never catch a drop.” … Three months later. During our regular video call where my daughter updated me on her life, her voice suddenly turned shy. “Mom, I think I’m falling in love.” A name immediately popped into my head. But I feigned ignorance and asked, “Who is it? A classmate?” Harper nodded bashfully. “He’s a finance major. We met at the welcome gala. He’s been pursuing me for a while now. I think he’s a really great guy, very considerate.” “What’s his name?” “Preston Sterling.” Without changing my expression, I smiled brightly. “That’s wonderful! College romances are beautiful. You’re in university now, so Mom won’t interfere with your love life. The only thing you need to remember is to protect yourself.” Harper smiled sweetly. “I know, Mom.” After the call, the System asked in confusion: “Host, why didn’t you break them up before they got together?” I countered, “Why should I break them up?” The System sounded even more puzzled: “You put in so much effort to change Harper’s life. If she still ends up marrying Preston and fulfilling the original novel’s ending, doesn’t that mean all your hard work was for nothing?” I smiled and shook my head. “You’re wrong. I poured my heart into raising Harper just so she would have choices. If I interfere with her decisions just to achieve my own agenda, then how am I any different from those toxic parents who rip up their children’s acceptance letters just to keep them close to home? “Harper’s life is hers to decide. The only thing I need to do is support her completely.” I said from the very beginning, I just want my daughter to be happy. That’s all.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439056”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The new intern at the office was getting married, and he specially sent me an invitation. I opened it casually, but my entire body froze when my eyes scanned the bride’s name—Chloé Miller? Isn’t that my wife’s name? I reassured myself that there were plenty of people with the same name in the world, and I smiled, accepting the invitation. My colleagues beside me started to tease, saying how lucky Gage Price was to marry such a top-tier socialite. Someone added, “Although she’s a few years older than Gage, she’s incredibly well-preserved. She looks like a young woman.” As they spoke, someone projected the bride’s photo onto the big screen. A chorus of gasps and exclamations of envy instantly filled the room. I stiffly raised my head, and the face on the screen sent a chill through my entire body. It was clearly my wife’s face, an exact match! 1 On the day of their wedding, I arrived early. Gage Price, wearing a custom-made groom’s suit, shook my hand. “Thank you, Mr. Edwards, for taking the time out of your busy schedule to attend my wedding and witness my love.” A faint, cold smile played on my lips. To be precise, today I was here to witness their affair. At the hotel entrance, two floor-length wedding photos were displayed. In the pictures, Chloé Miller was in Gage’s arms, both smiling radiantly, full of happiness. Staring at the photos, my heart felt like it was being stretched and pulled by an invisible force. Gage’s smile was bright as he led me to the guest lounge. “Mr. Edwards,” he paused, a hint of tentative politeness in his smile. “On this special occasion, I’ll be less formal, if I may call you Adrian, sir?” He had just graduated from college this year, only twenty-two. His eyes sparkled, radiating the unique youthful energy of a college student. Seeing him smile so happily, my heart throbbed faintly. But I forced a smile and said, “You may.” I sat in the lounge. He offered me tea and fruit. His unbridled joy was exactly how I had been when I married Chloé. A hard, heavy stone felt lodged in my chest, making me feel suffocated and restless. That morning, before coming to the wedding, I had called Chloé. She said she was still away on a business trip. In the video call, she looked like a homesick child, her eyes filled with longing for me. She even showed me the watch she had bought for me. “I won’t be back for another three days. It feels like an eternity. Honey, I miss you so much.” Several times, I nearly broke down and exposed her hypocritical facade, but I held back. For fifteen years of marriage. In everyone’s eyes, Chloé was a good wife. A good mother, even a good daughter-in-law. Before this incident, I had once believed she was the best woman in the world. As happy as I once was, that’s how much pain I was in now. My colleague, Mark, arrived and complimented Gage. “You look absolutely dashing today!” Gage smiled, looking at me. “I’m happy because of the big day, but Adrian, sir, you’re still the handsome one.” At work, I was considered a handsome man. In college, I was the undisputed campus heartthrob. Even though I was a few years older than Gage, I still looked more attractive than him. But marriage was never won by looks alone. I felt no emotion, just a faint smile. Mark, ever the gossip, asked him, “Gage, I heard you’ve been with your wife for four years.” “How did you meet such a top-tier socialite like your wife?” Mark even playfully nudged his arm. “Are there any other eligible women like her? Introduce me; I’ll get a divorce right away.” Hearing the words “four years,” my heart shattered into ice. Four years. She had kept this from me for four years. And I hadn’t noticed a single sign of Chloé’s infidelity. I just pretended to be calm and listened to Gage speak. “She’s the best gift destiny could have compensated me with.” As he spoke, Gage pulled Mark to sit next to me. He said, “My freshman year, my parents both died in an accident.” “I almost couldn’t afford college. It so happened that my wife’s alma mater was my university.” “She donates five hundred thousand dollars to the university every year, and I was one of the students she sponsored.” “That winter was very cold. To thank her, I personally knitted her a sweater.” “That sweater, it started our love story.” I remembered Chloé did have a handmade sweater. She cherished it. But she had told me it was a gift from my deceased mother. Once, our son accidentally dropped the sweater on the floor. She lost her temper, giving him a harsh scolding. Turns out, that sweater was hand-knitted by Gage. What chilled me most was that she donated five hundred thousand dollars to the school every year, and I knew absolutely nothing about it. Two years ago, she claimed the company was facing a cash flow crisis. She mortgaged our house, her parents’ house, and my parents’ house. Only then did she help the company through its difficult period. Even now, the company’s business remains stagnant, neither losing nor gaining, in a half-dead state. Yet, such a shrewd woman would do something so absurd—cutting off her own arm to help a lover, just for a smile. Mark was incredibly envious and asked again: “I heard your wife might make a lot of money, and she gives it all to you.” “So why are you still working like a dog at our company?” I pricked up my ears, staring at Gage. The smile never left his face. “Even though she gave me all her money, it’s more than I could spend in dozens of lifetimes.” “But I want to do a job I enjoy. I don’t want to just be a man she supports.” “I have my own worth.” More than he could spend in dozens of lifetimes? My chest tightened even more! Just last month, our son couldn’t afford the fifty thousand dollar tuition for his private school. He transferred to a public school, and the huge sense of loss caused my ten-year-old son to develop anxiety and depression. I pretended to be calm and asked: “What industry is your wife in, to be making so much money?” “Her company mainly operates overseas. The domestic company doesn’t make much.” I was stunned. I had no idea Chloé had opened a company overseas. For the past four years, she claimed the company was struggling. And cut off money for the household. My after-tax annual salary of eighty thousand dollars was just enough to cover our family expenses. So I never pressured her. Even a few years ago when my mother-in-law passed away, spending almost two hundred thousand dollars on treatment over a year. I paid for all of it, a hundred thousand of which I had to borrow. To pay off that debt as soon as possible, I had to both maintain the facade that our family hadn’t fallen on hard times and scrimp and save. Chloé witnessed my many nights of worry and sleeplessness, saw my hair rapidly turning gray in my thirties. Yet, she never contributed a single dime. Mark continued to gossip, his voice a little lower. “I heard your wife was divorced, and you’re her second husband.” “Can she manage her relationship with her ex-husband’s side well?” A cold laugh formed in my heart, but I managed to control the churning emotions within me. Gage seemed to have nothing to hide, a smile still on his face. “Her ex-husband and son both passed away.” A gaping hole tore through my chest, and a choking sensation lodged in my throat. Incredulous, Chloé had actually told him that my son and I were dead. A hint of regret appeared on Gage’s face. “It was an accident. Such a shame, that poor guy didn’t get to enjoy life with her.” More colleagues from work arrived. Gage continued to smile, greeting them. He showed no sign of noticing my changing expression. They surrounded Gage, praising him. Everyone envied his good fortune, finding a wealthy, generous, and loving wife. As they were talking, Gage’s phone video rang. It was Chloé calling. Everyone cheered for Gage to answer. Gage didn’t answer, instead saying, “I want her to see me like this today, only when we exchange rings at the wedding.” Everyone cheered again. “Gage wants to surprise his wife at the wedding.” Gage smiled. “To be honest, my wife didn’t have a wedding for her first marriage.” “She never took wedding photos, nor did she ever see her beloved in a groom’s suit.” “So I want her to be happy and unforgettable today.” He was right. Fifteen years ago, when Chloé and I married. She was still a penniless Cinderella. Our wedding was completely bare-bones. Even the rings were fake, bought from a dollar store. I put all my money into supporting her entrepreneurial venture. Three months ago, our son suggested that she take wedding photos with me as a keepsake. She gave a natural smile. “We’re old married folk now.” Then added, “We’ll take a family photo sometime.” I felt a vague disappointment then, but I didn’t dwell on it. I always believed that as long as the family was safe, sound, and loving. Nothing else mattered. She had completely forgotten that on our wedding day, when we lived in a two hundred dollar basement apartment. She had tears in her eyes as she promised me: “Honey, when I have money, I’ll definitely take wedding photos with you, buy you a car, a house, and give you all the best things.” But when she had everything. What she gave me in return was a soul-crushing betrayal. Someone gasped, covering their mouth. “No way, she didn’t have a wedding with her deceased ex-husband?” “She said she had no feelings for her ex-husband, didn’t want to, but her parents forced her.” Gage said this calmly, as if he wasn’t talking about Chloé’s life. “She said, when her ex-husband died, she finally felt a sense of relief.” “Like the whole world brightened up.” My heart was tearing apart with pain. I never imagined Chloé would so cheapen and humiliate our relationship in front of her lover. She was the one who relentlessly pursued me until I agreed to marry her. On the surface, I remained unfazed. As Gage was speaking, he suddenly remembered something and smiled blissfully. “Oh, and my wife is pregnant, two months along.” Everyone gathered around him, congratulating him. Saying his child would be a genuine heir to a wealthy family. Gage didn’t shy away from the topic. “My wife has already given all her assets to me and our child.” “She’s also planning for us to move abroad as a family after the wedding, a honeymoon of sorts, to truly relax.” Again, there was a chorus of envy. My spine turned cold. His child is the heir? What about my child?! My ten-year-old son, at the age of eight, had risked his life to save Chloé from a fire. That time, Chloé was inspecting a warehouse. The warehouse caught fire due to an electrical problem. My son saw her trapped inside and rushed in without hesitation to save her. Since then, my healthy son had a broken leg and has been limping ever since. Chloé had cried for several nights, heartbroken. She promised me and our son, again and again. She would work hard to give me and our son the best life. To make our son a wealthy heir who would never run out of money. Now, those words were the biggest joke in the world. Mark was once again insanely envious, exclaiming again. “Gage, heaven has been so good to you.” “Your wife truly loves you so much! You two must be happy.” Gage patted Mark’s back, his tone full of certainty. “Don’t worry, she’d even risk her life for me. She’ll definitely love me forever.” I raised an eyebrow, deliberately asking, “What reckless thing did she do for you?” “Two years ago, I was with her, meeting at her company’s warehouse.” “Later, I lost a shoe. Actually, a pair of those shoes only cost fifty-nine dollars.” “Just because I really liked those shoes, she went back herself to look for it.” “But the warehouse unexpectedly caught fire, and she almost lost her life.” “Luckily, she was blessed with good fortune and found that cheap shoe for me.” My blood boiled, and I clenched my fists, my fingernails digging deep into my flesh. I never imagined that my son’s broken leg was because of him. Fifteen years of marriage, and I only just discovered that my wife, the person sleeping beside me, was a demon. The one who delivered the fatal blow was my most trusted wife! “Oh my god, how touching, this is just like a novel!” someone exclaimed. Everyone, like Gage, was moved, quietly wiping away the faint tears at the corners of their eyes. Someone else said: “Your wife is so good to you. Are your in-laws also that good to you?” I looked at him, and he nodded firmly. “Her mom and dad are both very good to me.” My spine tingled with coldness. Chloé’s mother had passed away four years ago. Her father suffered from Alzheimer’s and now resided permanently in a nursing home. Gage pulled out a fine piece of black jade from his chest. It was identical to the one I wore around my neck. He held it up for everyone to see. “This was a gift from my father-in-law. Although it doesn’t look like it’s worth much, he said it’s a family heirloom.” “It’s only passed down to sons-in-law. Starting with him, we’ll pass it down generation to generation.” I carefully touched the black jade around my neck, only to realize it was fake. As everyone once again expressed their envy. A staff member called out from a distance: “Where’s the groom? The wedding is about to begin.” Gage immediately smiled and responded: “Coming, coming.” Then he smiled at us and said, “See you later.” I silently thought to myself: See you later! Many people came to the wedding. I saw a couple with “Bride’s Father” and “Bride’s Mother” written on their chest badges. A bitter smile formed in my heart. Chloé, in order to give Gage a happy wedding. Actually hired people to impersonate her parents. The wedding entered the groom picking up the bride’s procession. On stage, Chloé’s lips curved into a blissful smile. I stood in the corner behind her, my heart churning with immense hatred. I watched her eagerly walk towards the door of happiness, take Gage’s hand, and walk back to the stage. At the wedding, they exchanged vows of eternal love. The officiant, following the script, asked Gage: “Groom, do you take this bride?” Gage, without hesitation, smiled and loudly replied, “I do!” I took the microphone, walked onto the stage, and spoke loudly with a sharp tone: “That depends on whether I agree!” My gaze, sharp as a blade, fixed on Chloé’s eyes. “Wife, wouldn’t you agree?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “439041”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel