Category: English

Ever since I was old enough to understand, my billionaire parents and my brother hammered one truth into my head: I was a stray, a placeholder, a counterfeit. If I so much as smiled at my brother, he’d sneer and call me a social climber. When I won a prestigious gold medal for piano, my parents didn’t celebrate; they had the Steinway smashed to pieces. They told me I was “drinking the blood” of their real daughter. The entire family lived in a state of constant vigilance. They were terrified of being kind to me, afraid that an ounce of warmth would whet my appetite and lead me to challenge the “rightful” heiress one day. So, when the real daughter finally returned, I was the one who asked to leave. I told them I wanted to find my biological parents. But they blocked me at every turn. They said that as long as I stayed in my place and kept my head down, I could remain their “daughter” and “sister.” I was stupid enough to believe them. Then came a mock exam. The real daughter failed. She cried, saying she could never be as good as me no matter how hard she tried, and then she staged a dramatic suicide attempt by nicking her wrist. In retaliation, they reported me for “cheating” during the SATs and orchestrated a sequence of events that landed me in a correctional facility. They called it the price for “occupying a throne that wasn’t mine.” To atone, I endured every slander and every cold shoulder in silence. The day I was finally released, they presented me with a “surprise.” It turns out, I was their biological daughter all along. They had kept it a secret because they were afraid their long-lost adopted daughter would feel heartbroken if she realized they had replaced her with a biological child while she was gone. Now that the “older sister” has finally “accepted” me, they’ve come to collect me, smiling and ready for a happy family reunion. 1. The day I walked out, the sky was a bruised gray, and the wind was a serrated blade that cut straight to the bone. The guard handed me a thin, worn-out coat. “Michelle Vance, you’re free. From now on… don’t be stupid.” He looked at my tightly clenched sleeves, his voice dropping an octave. “And tell your family… tell them to get you a therapist.” My eyes were hollow. I nodded, pulling my sleeves down even further to hide what lay beneath. Yes. I had served my time. I had paid my debt. Now, I could go find my real family. I hadn’t walked ten yards when a black Rolls-Royce, hazard lights blinking, pulled up to the curb. The window slid down, revealing a face as familiar as it was striking. Dominic. Sophie’s “loving” older brother. His gaze was exactly as I remembered: cold, clinical, devoid of any warmth. “Michelle. Get in. We’re going home.” I didn’t look at him. I kept walking toward the bus stop. Just as I reached the steps of the bus, a hand clamped onto my shoulder with bruising force. I was yanked back, my spine colliding with the icy metal of the car. Dominic loomed over me, his eyes filled with that familiar, reflexive disdain. “What are you doing? Throwing a tantrum like Sophie used to? Trying to make us feel guilty?” “Did two years in a cell teach you nothing but theatrics?” Ever since I went inside, my brain had felt like rusted clockwork—slow, heavy, grinding. I stared at him blankly, taking a long time to process his words. Finally, I shook my head. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, softened and frayed from being folded and unfolded a thousand times. I smoothed it out for him to see. “No,” I said, my voice sounding like dry leaves skittering on pavement. “Sophie came to see me last time. She told me she found my real parents. Look. The address is right here. I’m going to my actual home.” He froze for a split second. Then, his face darkened into a mask of fury. He snatched the paper from my hands and ripped it into a dozen pieces, tossing them into the roaring traffic of the wet highway. “Stop this madness,” he growled, grabbing my arm. “Mom and Dad are waiting. You’re coming with—” I let out a sharp, strangled scream. I wrenched myself free with a strength I didn’t know I possessed and bolted into the middle of the road. “Home… I have to go home…” I dropped to my knees on the freezing asphalt, frantically clawing at the scraps of white paper as they swirled in the wind. Tires screeched. Horns blared like dying animals. “Jesus! Are you trying to get killed?!” someone yelled from a car window. Dominic’s face was ashen. He lunged forward, shielding me with his body as he shouted apologies to the angry drivers. He practically dragged me back to the shoulder of the road. “Michelle!” His chest was heaving, a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes, but it was quickly eclipsed by his habitual irritation. “If you want to die, do it somewhere I don’t have to watch! Using these cheap tricks for attention… the family really wasted years raising you.” I stared up at him, my mind lagging behind. I tilted my head, looking at him with genuine, quiet confusion. “Then… when Sophie cut her wrists… was she just doing it for attention too?” Dominic went rigid. Every muscle in his jaw locked. For the first time in my life, I saw him flinch. He couldn’t meet my eyes. There it was. Even he knew. “Sophie.” That name had been a crown of thorns around my head for as long as I could remember. I was the fake. I was the parasite. I was the intruder. That was why my mother fired the nanny who served me dessert first. That was why my father smashed my piano. That was why Dominic drowned the stray puppy I had rescued from the rain. They used every choice, every moment, to prove a point: they would never let the “shining pearl” suffer a single slight just because I had been the one physically present in their lives. The scale of their hearts was always tipped in her favor, by design. But I still didn’t get it. If she had all the love, if the world was served to her on a silver platter… Why did she have to bleed just because I beat her on a practice test? Sophie. What on earth were you so afraid of? 2. Dominic rubbed his temples, his frustration radiating off him in waves. “You know Sophie isn’t like you! She grew up out there, suffering. She didn’t even get to finish school properly. You? You were brought into this house and given every resource, every elite tutor!” “You had to be number one every single time? You just had to crush her? You knew it would trigger her!” I didn’t really hear him. I was shivering, trying to piece together the sodden scraps of paper in my hand. Three pieces were missing. “It’s gone…” my voice trembled. “The address… My home is gone!” I started to move toward the road again, desperate. Slap! The blow was so sudden and so sharp that my head snapped to the side. My ear rang with a high-pitched whine. Before I could recover, Dominic dragged me toward a stagnant, icy puddle by the side of the road. “You want to die, Michelle?” He let go, pointing at the dark, freezing water. “Then jump! Go on! Stop the performance!” With a violent sweep of his hand, he knocked the remaining scraps of paper from my grip. They fluttered like dying moths into the filthy, slushy water. I looked at him. His eyes were full of that familiar, towering condescension. I remembered Sophie’s first birthday back with us. She cried, saying the pearl necklace Dominic gave her was missing and that she’d seen me in her room. At first, I fought back. “I didn’t take it! Check the security cameras—” Before I could finish, Dominic took a baseball bat and smashed the camera right in front of me. I shut up instantly. He was teaching me a lesson: my truth meant nothing compared to Sophie’s tears. The necklace wasn’t in my room. It was eventually found at the bottom of the backyard pool, the string cut, pearls scattered across the tiles. Everyone in the family knew I had a near-death drowning experience as a child. I had severe aquaphobia. Even a full bathtub made me feel like I was suffocating. But that winter, Dominic had me thrown into the icy pool. “Get them,” he had said. “Every single one. Don’t come out until you find them all.” My parents watched Sophie sob into their shoulders and said nothing. They let it happen. I passed out in that freezing water multiple times. Each time, they’d wake me up with more cold water until my blue, numb fingers had found every last pearl. Since then, even the reflection of light on a water surface made me shake. Dominic knew this. He was certain I was too afraid of water—and too afraid of death—to actually jump. He didn’t know that in prison, when I used a sharpened piece of plastic to open my veins, all I felt was… peace. The ER doctor had told the guards: She has a profound desire for self-destruction. Without a support system, she won’t last. Dominic looked at my empty, hollow eyes and smirked. “Coward. You don’t even have the guts to look at the water. Think about how much Sophie must have suffered to—” He didn’t finish the sentence. I lunged forward and dove headfirst into the stinking, freezing puddle. The water closed over my head, burning my nose and throat. Getting back to my real family was my last hope for living. If I couldn’t have that, I didn’t want anything else. A second later, I was yanked out by the waist and slammed onto the muddy grass. I coughed violently, retching up dirty water. Through the blur, I saw Dominic. He was soaked, kneeling in the mud, his hands still trembling from the force of pulling me out. He was staring at me, his pupils blown wide. The look in his eyes wasn’t disdain anymore. It was disbelief. And… something else. A flicker of raw, unadulterated terror. I didn’t understand. What was he afraid of? If the “fake” died, wasn’t that what he—and everyone else—wanted? 3. I looked at the pulp in my hand—the wet, gray remains of the paper where the ink had bled into illegible clouds. A wave of exhaustion, a soul-deep weariness, washed over me. I was so tired. If I had a knife right now, could I finally just sleep? Dominic watched me, his voice finally losing its edge, turning soft, almost tentative. “Michelle… why? You weren’t like this before. Since when did you start taking my words so literally?” He was right. Since I was a toddler, he’d told me: “Michelle, you’re just a placeholder. Know your place. Sophie is my only sister.” Back then, I’d just smile and ask him for a hug. Later, I’d study until my fingers cramped to make him his favorite snacks, only for him to sneer, “You’re so pathetic, Michelle. Sophie would never beg for affection like this.” I’d still smile and hold the plate out to him. No matter how cruel he was, the little girl I used to be followed him around like a shadow. I was convinced he just had a temper, that he didn’t actually hate me. Until Sophie came back. Then I realized what he looked like when he actually loved someone. When Sophie and I were cornered by some older bullies in high school, he rushed in and pulled her behind him. He didn’t even look at me. Not once. He just walked away with her. His friend had pointed at me, stuck in the mud. “Hey, Dominic… what about the other one?” “She’s not my sister.” I watched them leave. I stayed behind to face the insults and the shoves alone. I struggled to sit up, my brain trying to conjure the ghost of the address on that paper, but the memory was fading. “Michelle, come home. Stop this,” Dominic said. It was that nauseating, self-righteous tone of “comfort” again. “The whole family is waiting. We’re having Christmas dinner.” “Dominic! You aren’t my brother! You have no right to tell me what to do!” I screamed, my voice raw and screeching. “I just want to go to my real home! To my real parents!” I swung my hand and slapped him. Hard. Dominic’s head snapped back. He froze, but his gaze dropped to my wrists. They were covered in a lattice of scars—some old and white, some jagged and fresh. He turned pale. His eyes turned red in an instant. “Michelle… your hands…” his voice shook with a sudden, sharp grief. “Did… did someone hurt you in there? I thought… I thought I paid the guards to look after you…” He looked sad. He looked… hurt. It was absurd. I had finally stopped chasing him, finally stopped calling him brother. What did he have to be sad about? I felt a surge of pure, physical nausea. “Dominic,” I said, my voice like dry ice. “Why are you acting like a martyr now?” He didn’t answer. He grabbed my arm and shoved me into the car, clicking the seatbelt shut with a snap. “We’re going to the hospital first,” he said, his voice tight as he started the engine. “I’m not going to a hospital! I’m going home! Let me out!” I thrashed against the belt, clawing at his collar, my nails leaving long, bloody furrows across his cheek. He didn’t move. He didn’t fight back. He just gripped the steering wheel, jaw set, blood dripping down his face. That silence—that suffocating, unresponsive wall—triggered a memory of the solitary confinement cell. My head began to throb. The last trace of the address vanished from my mind. I went limp. My hands fell to my sides. He glanced at me, misinterpreting my silence. He actually managed a small, pathetic smile. “Michelle… you… you still care about me, don’t you? You stopped.” I smiled back. Then, I lunged across the center console and grabbed the steering wheel, jerking it with everything I had. If I can’t go home, let’s just go to hell. SCREECH—!! The tires howled against the pavement. The car lost control, spinning and slamming into the guardrail with a bone-jarring thud. The airbags deployed with a bang. Dominic gasped for air, blood trickling from his forehead, his eyes wide with the terror of a survivor. He turned to see the look on my face. I wasn’t scared. I was disappointed. “Michelle… do you… do you want to die that badly?” I didn’t answer. I just stared at him with dead eyes. He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a whisper, a desperate plea. “Fine. Okay. No hospital. We’ll go home, okay? Just… just stay with me.” I lowered my eyes and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible “okay.” Dominic’s shoulders slumped in relief. He thought I was being “good” again. He didn’t know. I just remembered: Sophie knows where my real home is. I was going back to find her. 4. The Blackwood estate was glowing with warmth and festive lights. When we pushed through the front doors, the scent of pine and expensive candles hit me. Sophie was sitting on the sofa in a designer dress, her cheeks flushed with health, leaning into our mother’s side. “Mom, I’m only back for a few days. You didn’t have to make such a fuss,” Sophie chirped. Our father was sitting nearby, patiently peeling shrimp for her, his eyes full of adoration. “The Dean called. He said you won another award. Our Sophie is so talented; of course we have to celebrate.” It was a picture-perfect scene of domestic bliss. Dominic cleared his throat, his jaw tight. “Mom, Dad. I brought Michelle back.” The laughter died instantly. Three pairs of eyes swung toward us. First to me, then to Dominic’s soaked clothes and the bloody scratches on his face. My parents’ brows furrowed in unison. Sophie was the first to stand. She walked toward me, her voice dripping with that “concerned older sister” act she’d perfected. “Michelle, Dominic went out in the snow to get you personally. How could you do this to him?” She sighed, playing the part of the mature one. “You’re college-aged now. Can’t you be a little more sensible? Must you always make the family worry?” My mother’s face hardened. “Michelle, this is unacceptable. Your brother just got over a cold.” My father let out a cold snort. “She was always a troublemaker. Fighting in high school, coming home bruised… I suppose two years with criminals only made it worse—” “Enough.” Dominic’s voice was sharp, cutting through my father’s sentence. He looked at Sophie, his expression unusually stern. “I did this to myself. It wasn’t Michelle.” He paused, then added, “And Sophie? Michelle never went to college. Maybe think before you speak next time.” The room went tomb-silent. They stared at him, shocked. Dominic—the golden son—had never once defended the “fake” sister, let alone snapped at his precious Sophie. Sophie’s eyes filled with tears instantly. Her lip wobbled. “Fine! She’s the sister you grew up with, and I’m just the outsider! I don’t have the right to speak to her! I’m sorry I even came back!” Dominic looked conflicted, his gaze flickering away. My mother rushed to Sophie, pulling her into a protective embrace. “Dominic! How could you speak to her like that?!” Then she turned her venomous gaze on me. “And you, Michelle! You just get back and you’re already upsetting your sister. Why are you so selfish?” I looked at this woman—dripping in diamonds, her face twisted with habitual annoyance toward me—and the word “Mom” died in my throat. She wasn’t my mother. It made sense that she hated me. “Let’s just eat,” my father sighed, trying to break the tension. “Your brother made us wait for hours just for you. Sophie is starving.” I looked up. “Did I ask her to wait?” I didn’t wait for a reply. “Dominic made that choice. It has nothing to do with me.” Sophie’s eyes went wide. “Michelle! Have you lost your mind? How dare you talk to him like that!” “He’s not my brother,” I said, my voice steady and clear. “He’s your brother.” I looked at them all. “I didn’t come here to eat.” I turned to Sophie. “I came to ask for the address. My parents’ address.” “Once I have it, I’m gone. I won’t ruin your family reunion anymore.” The color drained from Sophie’s face. My mother frowned. “What are you talking about? This is your home.” “I mean my real home. My biological parents,” I said, staring Sophie down. “You told me in prison that you found them. You gave me a note. I lost it. Give it to me again. Now.” The air in the living room turned to ice. My parents looked at Sophie, their expressions turning unreadable. Sophie stammered, “Isn’t… isn’t this family good enough? Why do you have to look for—” “I have to!” I was shaking now, my voice rising to a scream. “I want to go home! I want my own parents! Let me go!!” Dominic couldn’t take it anymore. He turned to our parents, his voice exploding with repressed rage. “Just tell her! Tell her the truth! We agreed, didn’t we? We were going to give her the ‘surprise’ when she got out!” I looked at him, confused. He wouldn’t look back. As the eldest son, Dominic held weight in this house. My parents exchanged a look. Finally, my mother sighed. She looked at me, her voice suddenly forced, sweet, like she was talking to a frightened animal. “Michelle… sweetheart. The truth is… you are our biological daughter.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391788”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 When the car crash happened, my CEO brother and my movie-star fiancé instinctively shielded the sweet, innocent ingénue, Mia. I was sent flying hundreds of feet. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day before my debut press conference. In my past life, all I did was step a little closer to my fiancé, Liam. He immediately stepped back to avoid any association, publicly mocking me for trying to ride his coattails. My brother looked down on me too, claiming I relied on our family’s capital and wasn’t worthy to compete with Mia, who had no backing. But now, they stood flanking Mia, left and right, propping her up. Backed by the CEO and partnered with a top actor, she became an overnight sensation. I was completely done. I bought a plane ticket and went abroad to start a new life. Three years later, Mia had swept all the major acting awards. At the awards ceremony, I happened to be seated next to Liam. He mocked me: “Even though you lost me, you shouldn’t just let yourself go. No man will ever look at you now.” My brother also looked at me and shook his head. “You left with such pride, but didn’t you still have to come crawling back to beg me in the end?” But when I walked onto the stage to give a speech as the wife of the event organizer, both of them panicked. … “Mia is only twenty-one, and she’s already swept the top three acting awards. She’s the first person in the entertainment industry to do that. Her future is boundless.” “I heard she’s getting engaged to the movie star, Liam. They’re both so beautiful; it’s a match made in heaven!” “Don’t be so sure! The CEO of the Vance Group, Ethan Vance, chartered every helicopter in the city and is preparing to give Mia the proposal of the century! It’s still up in the air who she’ll choose!” The interior of the awards ceremony was buzzing with voices. Just as I found my seat, I turned and saw the cold, aloof, and arrogant Liam. He was a bit surprised to see me take the seat next to him, but that surprise quickly morphed into undisguised disgust. “Don’t sit here.” I was a little confused and asked: “Why?” Liam tilted his arrogant chin up, his impatience peaking. “I’m going to propose to Mia today. If you sit next to me, I’m afraid she might get the wrong idea.” “Why did you have to come back right at this exact time?” I looked down at the invitation card in my hand, but before I could speak, a reporter beside me interrupted. “Mr. Sterling, there are rumors that you’re going to propose to Ms. Mia today. Is it true? Can you give us a hint?” The swarm of reporters completely blocked me from view. Liam’s voice sounded somewhat playful. “It’s a secret.” Those two words were more suggestive than a direct confirmation, and the reporters immediately went into a frenzy. But amidst the excitement, a few sharp-eyed reporters began to study me. A young girl wearing a red hat blurted out: “Isn’t this the Vance family heiress who used to obsess over Liam? I heard she insisted on debuting just to chase him and spent a fortune to co-star with him. Then she suddenly disappeared. Why did she show up today of all days?” “Could it be she knew Liam was going to propose today and hasn’t given up? Is she still trying to win him back?” As soon as she finished speaking, all the cameras and eyes focused on me. Facing the dark lenses of the cameras, I just smiled faintly and waved my hand. “You’ve got it all wrong. I have nothing to do with what you’re talking about. I was just invited to attend the event.” Liam scoffed coldly beside me. “Stop pretending. You specifically arranged to sit next to me. Everyone knows exactly what you’re plotting.” He turned to look at me, his voice stern. “I’m warning you one last time. If you dare do anything to hurt Mia, I absolutely will not go easy on you again.” Gasps erupted from the crowd. Liam’s words were entirely captured by the cameras. The reporter in the red hat sounded thrilled. “The movie star aggressively protecting his woman! This is huge news! I’m totally shipping them!” Before I could retort, my hand was grabbed viciously. “Chloe Vance, who told you to come here?” 2 The familiar voice belonged to my older half-brother, Ethan Vance. He gripped my hand tightly, his face dark with anger. “This is not a place for you to make a scene. Come with me!” A sharp pain shot through my wrist, and I instinctively struggled. “I’m here for official business, let go of me!” My resistance only angered Ethan more: “Do you think I don’t know what you’re planning? I warned you a long time ago, you can’t buy love with money! Are you really going to keep making the same mistake? Stop embarrassing the Vance family!” He didn’t care at all that the strapless top of my mini dress was being pulled to the point of near-exposure, nor did he care about the countless cameras eagerly documenting every second. “I let you throw your tantrums before, but not today.” “This honor is something Mia earned through immense hard work. I will not allow anyone to ruin it. Chloe, be reasonable. Stop this nonsense, okay?” Meeting his bloodshot eyes, a dull ache tightened my chest. He was supposed to be my brother, yet he was completely disregarding my dignity, humiliating me in public like this. All for his beloved Mia! On the other side, Liam stood with his hands in his pockets, watching me like a spectator enjoying a show. “Why put yourself through this? No matter how pitiful you act, I still won’t like you.” “Just because you can’t have my love doesn’t mean you should give up on yourself. Making a scene like this in public… no man will ever look at you again.” My dress was already pulled dangerously low, but my brother still refused to let go. Hearing Liam’s words seemed to embolden him further. “If you don’t want to be completely humiliated, leave right now.” I could only hold my collar tightly and argue with all my might: “I am a specially invited guest, here as the family member of the event organizer. Neither of you has the right to kick me out!” As soon as I said that, everyone froze for a moment. “Family member of the organizer? The organizer of this ceremony is the legendary tycoon from the capital, Alexander Price! His international trade business spans the globe, and his assets are immeasurable. He is a truly powerful figure.” “But I heard Mr. Price is an orphan without any relatives. Could she be… his wife?” The reporter in the red hat widened her eyes in gossip-fueled shock. Ethan, who was still pulling on me, froze. Before he could react, Liam, who had been enjoying the show, suddenly stood up, walked over, and looked down at me. He frowned, a trace of inexplicable anger in his voice: “Chloe, what do you mean by that?” “Have you been messing around with other men during the few years you’ve been away from me?” His tone carried an inexplicable, incredibly ironic jealousy. In my past life, I entered the entertainment industry without hesitation just for him, fighting tooth and nail just to catch up to him. When his investments resulted in massive losses, I sold the shares my parents left me and gave everything I had to help him. Because of that, he accepted my confession and we got engaged. I originally thought my genuine devotion had moved him, but it turned out he just wanted my money to finance a movie for Mia! A ten-million-dollar mega-production tailored specifically for Mia. When I found out, he just confidently told me: “She has potential; she just lacks an opportunity. Someone like you, born with silver-spoon connections, could never understand the struggles of a small actor. I have to help her.” I cried to my brother about my pain, failing to notice his face turning green with jealousy. It turned out Mia was a student he had personally sponsored. Because of her stunning looks, my brother had pulled strings to get her into film school. Listening to my complaints, his only concern was that the woman he loved was going to be stolen from him. He advised me: “No matter what happens between you and Liam, do not let it affect Mia.” Furious, I confronted Mia, demanding she stay away from my fiancé. I never expected her to cry, slap herself, claim she was sorry, and say she wanted to atone for her sins, all while running out into the street. My brother and Liam quickly chased after her, and I followed them. Mia ran onto the road. When the accident happened, my brother and Liam instantly shielded her with their bodies. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night before my debut. My brother had immediately notified the staff, changing what was supposed to be my debut press conference into Mia’s. Liam also attended dressed to the nines, just to support Mia. They both felt they owed Mia in our past life and decided to overcompensate her in this one. My heart turned to ash, and I decided to go abroad alone. The night I left home, my brother just thought I was throwing a tantrum, playing the runaway game. He dismissed me entirely, mocking: “The outside world isn’t as gentle as you think. I’ve spoiled you too much; you’re too naive. It’s time you go out and experience some real hardship.” “Only then will you understand how difficult things were for Mia before, and you won’t always try to target her.” That departure lasted for three years. Until today, when I returned as an invited guest, only to run into them. I never expected our reunion to be such an ugly scene. 3 “Liam, Ethan, you’re both here. I feel so much safer with you two.” “This event is so huge, it’s a little overwhelming. I hope I don’t mess up later. Come give me strength!” Wearing a long, trailing black evening gown, Mia still retained a girlish playfulness. She extended her hands, making a “cheer up” gesture toward the two men. Both men’s eyes lit up instantly. Liam, who had just been interrogating me, quickly distanced himself and his voice softened. “You’re already a Best Actress winner, and you still get nervous? Don’t worry, whatever happens, I’m here.” He reached out and placed his hand over Mia’s. “Ethan, what are you spacing out for? Come here!” Called out by name, my brother’s face flushed with an unnatural red, and he stammered. “I’m… I’m here.” The way he looked at Mia was full of undisguised admiration. I remembered in my past life, when I saw he saved Mia’s contact as “Little Flower,” I didn’t understand and asked why he used such a cheesy nickname. He just chuckled and didn’t say anything. But now I understand. Mia was the flower he had carefully nurtured. He watched her grow, bloom, and shine, becoming a dazzling star. His gaze upon her was too blinding; I couldn’t help but look away. Mia seemed not to have noticed me yet. After finishing her little cheer, she kept talking: “Just now backstage, I accidentally twisted my ankle. Thank goodness someone caught me.” She deliberately turned her delicate profile toward the reporters’ cameras. “After thanking him, I found out he was the mysterious investor, Alexander Price from the capital! He even told me… he said I was the first leading lady of his banquet tonight.” She lowered her head shyly, her smile picturesque, drawing a wave of cheers from the crowd. “As expected of our superstar, easily capturing the attention of a capital tycoon! It seems another man is about to fall head over heels for Mia! Now the movie star and the CEO should be worried!” “Exactly! If Mr. Price enters the competition, he’ll effortlessly crush the other two! After all, it’s an international enterprise based in the capital! The scale is much larger than the Vance Group. If Mr. Price makes a move, the entire entertainment industry will tremble.” The onlookers whispered among themselves, while the two men present looked increasingly grim. “Mia, did he do anything else to you? You must keep your eyes open and recognize who truly treats you best.” Liam couldn’t wait to intervene. My brother, Ethan, however, watched lonely from a distance. “I only wish for your happiness.” Leaving that sentence behind, he turned as if to leave. Mia’s eyes fluttered, and she coyly waved her hands. “What are you saying?! You’re all exaggerating! He just helped me with a small favor, how could he randomly fall in love with me?” As she spoke, her gaze suddenly cut through the crowd and landed squarely on me. “It’s just that I heard someone spreading rumors about Mr. Price. He helped me, so I must repay him somehow.” “After all, someone of Mr. Price’s status isn’t someone any random stray cat or dog can latch onto. Chloe, wouldn’t you agree?” 4 Mia strutted over to me triumphantly, the crowd’s cameras following her every step. “Long time no see, Chloe. Ever since you ran away from home three years ago, I’ve been so worried about you. I blamed myself so much. If Liam hadn’t fallen in love with me and broken your heart, you wouldn’t have left without a word. That’s why, for all this time, I never dared accept either of their proposals.” “But it’s fine now. I heard you have a new lover, so I can finally put my mind at ease.” She gave me a playful wink, and a business card slipped from her dress and fell to the floor. She deliberately bent down to pick it up, perfectly displaying the contents of the card. It was Alexander Price’s business card. She looked at the cameras, offering an apologetic smile. “Just now, Mr. Price specifically reminded me to contact him when I have free time to discuss a collaboration.” “Oh, right, Chloe, who did you say you were here as a family member for?” All eyes converged on me, and the crowd suddenly erupted in laughter. “I didn’t expect the slap in the face to come this fast. This woman wanted to act like a big shot, but ended up making a huge fool of herself. Hilarious.” “Exactly! Unless Mr. Price is blind, he’d never look twice at her. How does she compare to our Mia in any way?” “You guys are laughing at the poser, but I’m just feeling bad for Liam and CEO Vance. Having such a powerful rival suddenly appear, I can’t even imagine how devastated they must be!” Meeting Mia’s provocative gaze, I slowly spoke up. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear earlier. I am an invited guest, attending this banquet as the family member of the organizer.” I stared fearlessly into her eyes, and she let out a scoff of disbelief. “Chloe, watch what you say. Tonight’s organizer isn’t some ordinary person you can just claim to be related to.” Liam also stepped forward, looking at me with disgust. “Chloe, I told you long ago, I hate liars the most! Did you think pretending not to care would make me look at you differently? It only makes me despise you more!” My brother, Ethan, tried to persuade me with a look of exasperation: “If you don’t want the Vance family to completely lose face, please just leave right now.” I ignored their mockery and disdain, calmly taking my designated seat. Soon, staff members stepped forward to disperse the crowd. The awards ceremony was about to begin. The host took the stage, and after introducing tonight’s guests, suddenly changed his tone. “Tonight’s awards ceremony features a visit from a very mysterious guest.” In the audience, those in the know had already started cheering. “I believe many of you already know this news. He is our organizer tonight, the tycoon who has never appeared in public, Alexander Price!” Screams almost tore through the venue; everyone was intensely curious about this mysterious tycoon. The host’s tone suddenly shifted again. “However, our Mr. Price has a very peculiar temper. No matter how much I pleaded, he refused to come out.” “When I asked why, I found out that Mr. Price can only be invited out by the future Mrs. Price.” As the host playfully hyped the crowd, an inexplicable chant erupted from the audience. “Mia! Mia!” Soon, many others joined in. “Mr. Price’s unique way of confessing is so romantic!” “Isn’t our Mia the future Mrs. Price?! Love at first sight is so cute!” “Mia! Mia!” The deafening cheers drowned out the host, and no one noticed his slightly awkward expression. “Please, everyone, calm down for a moment!” The host flipped the cue card over and over in his hands, as if repeatedly confirming it. Finally, with a hint of hesitation, he continued. “Next, please welcome the future Mrs. Price, Ms. Chloe Vance, to the stage to give a speech.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391807”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During a live New Year’s Eve broadcast, my sister called me. I spoke first: “May you have peace and joy, and live a long, long life.” My sister scoffed: “But I don’t want you to have joy or a long life at all. “I wish you would suffer for the rest of your life.” I had cut ties with my sister during the year she was at her absolute lowest. Now that she was successful and famous, the very first thing she did was seek revenge against me. My tone remained unchanged: “May you have peace and joy, and live a long, long life.” My sister grew impatient: “Enough. I will never wish you well. “If I have to, then I wish you an eternity of pain.” The host hesitated for a moment before finally reminding her: “Ms. Sterling… that was just a recording of Mr. Sterling’s voice. “And when he passed away… it was indeed, as you wished, very painful.” 1 “Passed away?” Chloe Sterling froze, then let out a cold laugh: “I hope you mean he died.” The host paused, then pointed behind her. On the massive screen behind her, my face appeared. In the video, I slapped the camera lens. The rain plastered my hair and shirt tightly against my skin. I looked utterly miserable. My tone was filled with pure exhaustion and impatience: “Stop filming. I said no.” Immediately after, a sweet, incredibly sincere voice replied: “I’m really not a scammer. I’m a vlogger who specifically documents the real struggles of everyday people. I can help you.” I turned away from the dumpster I was digging through and shoved my face right up to the lens: “Really? Can you cure my cancer?” The girl froze. I smirked bitterly: “Don’t waste your energy. Go find someone else.” “Um… I can try!” She grabbed my arm as I tried to walk away. I looked her up and down. I let out a laugh, pointing out her T-shirt, belt, pants, and shoes one by one: “Twenty bucks. Sixty. Forty. Fifty. “Oh, and this camera… you bought it secondhand, right? “Do you have any idea how much my treatment costs?” I held up five fingers to the camera: “Half a million.” The girl’s breath hitched. Smiling, I turned and walked back into the rain, bending down in front of each trash can: “Shadow? Shadow, where are you?” She followed me: “What are you looking for?” “A dog.” “Is it yours?” “No. When the pain made me pass out earlier, he licked me awake.” The girl didn’t say anything. I looked up: “If you don’t have anything else to do, don’t just stand there. There are plenty of people in this world you can actually help. Don’t waste your time on me.” I covered the camera lens with my hand. The screen went black. 2 [The Next Life — October 11, 2023, 9:32 AM — The Sterlings Never Need Anyone’s Pity] “You’re Liam Sterling, Chloe Sterling’s younger brother, right?” I was sweeping the floor in the back kitchen of a coffee shop. Hearing that, I frowned: “Why are you here again?” The girl’s voice came from behind the camera: “Everyone online is calling you a treacherous, ungrateful backstabber. But they don’t know you have cancer. I want to shoot a documentary series about you, can I?” I shook my head: “Let them call me a backstabber. I worked so hard to build that persona, are you trying to ruin it for me?” “Wait!” She frantically grabbed my arm: “But you’re completely broke right now! Where are you going to get the money for your medical bills? Let me help you. I have some savings.” I turned my head and smiled: “Why do you think I cut ties with my sister?” She paused. I pulled my arm free and waved her off: “I have a job. I don’t need your help. Just leave.” “I asked around. You only make two thousand dollars a month here.” “I still don’t need it.” I turned my back to her, glancing over my shoulder with a smile: “The Sterlings never need anyone’s pity.” The moment the words left my mouth, I suddenly collapsed to my knees. “Mr. Sterling!” The camera shook violently. On the floor was a massive pool of blood. “You…!” Sarah’s voice was trembling. The camera was tossed aside as a slender girl rushed over to support me: “Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital!” I raised a hand and pushed her away. I grabbed a rag, wiped the floor, and used the back of my hand to wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth: “No need.” Then I walked over to the sink and washed the blood off my face. Sarah’s voice quivered: “Please, just let me help you, okay?” I cleaned off the last trace of blood, turned around, and looked at her seriously: “The Sterlings… never need anyone’s help.” With that, I walked out of the camera’s frame. 3 [The Next Life — November 15, 2023, 3:21 PM — A Puppy Doesn’t Know He’s Dying; He Only Rejoices That He Has a Home] “What do you mean?” Inside the veterinary clinic, I stared at the vet in absolute shock. The vet sighed and shook his head: “I’m guessing the original owner abandoned him because they saw he wasn’t going to make it. “This little guy has been starving every day, getting bullied by other stray dogs… he’s already…” I offered a weak smile: “I know. You’re going to say he doesn’t have much time left, right?” The vet hesitated for a second, then nodded. It was the exact same reaction my attending oncologist had. Sarah frowned: “Is there really nothing we can do?” “…Just make him comfortable. Give him whatever he wants to eat.” The room fell into silence. I petted Shadow’s head: “No wonder we found each other.” Shadow’s tail was wagging a mile a minute. He kept rubbing against me, tongue lolling out, looking at me with bright, dark eyes. Sarah smiled bitterly: “He thinks you’re his owner.” I froze for a second: “Is that really something to be happy about?” Sarah nodded, petting the dog’s head: “A puppy doesn’t know he’s dying. He only knows he finally has a home again.” I was silent for a moment. I patted the dog’s head: “Then I’ll call you Shadow.” Shadow let out a happy “Woof!” Carrying Shadow out of the clinic, I turned and faced the camera: “You found Shadow and brought him to me. In return, I agree to let you shoot your documentary series about me.” 4 [The Next Life — December 31, 2023, 9:00 PM — Then I Wish You a Long, Long Life · Part 1] “Where did you get this stuff?” I looked at the old VHS tapes Sarah had brought over, frowning deeply. She shook the tapes and smiled: “A good vlogger has to fully understand her subject.” Saying that, she popped a tape into the VCR. On the ancient TV left behind by the previous tenant, a young boy wearing a custom-tailored suit appeared, bending down to look into the lens. Back then, my eyes still sparkled with hope: “Hello, hello! Happy New Year 2015! I wish everyone peace and joy, and may all your dreams come true!” “You were so lively back then.” Sarah sat next to me, watching the video with a smile in her eyes. I leaned back on the ratty sofa in my cheap apartment: “Did you literally dig through every single video on all my social media accounts?” “I thought it was interesting, so I brought them over to watch.” I didn’t say anything. I just watched my past self sitting amidst a mountain of presents. A familiar voice rang out: “Don’t rush, Sister will help you open them.” Chloe walked into the frame and sat down next to me. I held up a hand in a “Stop!” gesture: “Don’t! Sis. The Sterlings are fiercely independent!” The camera angle shifted. My sister fastened a watch around my wrist: “Happy New Year, Liam.” With a click!, the video captured my massive, beaming smile. Then came the sound of chaotic laughter. I had smeared a bit of frosting on my sister’s face. She froze for a second, then raised her hand with a laugh: “Stop right there! Don’t think just because it’s your birthday I won’t smack you!” The video was filled with my joyous laughter. Outside the video, I suddenly burst into laughter too. I wiped the corner of my eye, my sigh carrying a slight tremble: “After Mom and Dad died, everyone thought I was so pitiful. “But… actually, I wasn’t pitiful at all. “I still had my sister, and my friends…” The freezing wind howled through the drafty apartment. I wrapped my blanket tighter around myself as tears fell silently. My red, freezing hands were suddenly enveloped by two small, warm hands. Sarah looked at me earnestly: “I’ve saved up some money. Tomorrow, let’s go to the hospital and start your treatment.” I sniffled and let out a laugh: “Your account doesn’t even have a hundred followers yet, and you eat instant ramen with me every single day. How much money could you possibly have?” Her pale hands clenched tightly against her faded jeans: “It’s enough… to help a little.” “No need. I have good news for you. I saved up two thousand dollars. I can afford one chemo session now.” Sarah froze. Then she started smiling: “Is it enough? Let me give you a little more.” I shook my head stubbornly: “No. The Sterlings never need anyone’s help.” I lifted my chin proudly: “Don’t worry, my current income can cover my medication. Look, I bought all these with my salary.” Saying that, I grabbed a handful of colorful pills, tossed my head back, and swallowed them all at once. Then, frowning, I sat in silence for a long time before finally rubbing my chest and letting out a long breath. When I looked up, Sarah was watching me, the corners of her eyes a little red. I laughed: “Swallowing a whole handful of pills in one gulp… pretty impressive, right?” Sarah lowered her eyes, her smile laced with deep bitterness: “Yeah.” 5 [The Next Life — December 31, 2023, 11:45 PM — Then I Wish You a Long, Long Life · Part 2] In the video, the two of us, having finished a modest meal, leaned against the sofa waiting for the New Year’s bell. Sarah looked at me: “Are you sure that’s all you’re going to eat?” I sounded exhausted: “My stomach hurts. If I eat any more, I’ll throw up.” Sarah was silent for a moment before finally speaking up: “Ms. Sterling… she succeeded. Her new project just broke a hundred million in revenue.” I kept my eyes closed: “I know.” “Go back to her. She’ll pay for your treatment.” I shook my head. “Why? Do you want to just die like this?” “Did you think that when I cut ties with her, I still had any illusions about surviving?” Sarah choked on her words. Then, she asked with a slight tremble in her voice: “Why did you cut ties with her? Wouldn’t it have been better to face this together?” I started laughing: “Since we were little, Mom and Dad always said that Sterling children never needed anyone’s help. But the Sterling family helped a whole bunch of relatives. “But… when my sister went bankrupt, not a single one of those people was willing to help. “Do you know how it felt? Watching my sister swallow her pride, begging those relatives to just help pay my tuition?” My breath shuddered, and I gritted my teeth: “My sister never begged anyone for anything. After being rejected by all those relatives, she took me and found a tiny, twenty-square-foot apartment, about the same size as this one. “She told me that even if it was just her, she would get us back to the life we had before. “That’s the sister I admired. Even when she had absolutely nothing, she never lost her ambition or her pride. “But…” I started laughing again, looking at Sarah: “Guess what she would do if she knew I was sick?” Sarah looked at me, speechless. “She would get on her knees and beg those relatives.” As I said those words, my very heart was trembling: “Actually… just to get my tuition money, she almost got on her knees. Thank god I stopped her… haha…” I wiped away the tear stains at the corners of my eyes: “Before I left, the business she started with her partner was just starting to take off. “Guess whether her partner would have still been willing to invest if they found out there was a terminal medical burden in her family?” Sarah’s voice trembled: “Liam…” I held up a hand to stop her: “Cancer will take my life. But half a million dollars… that would take her life.” Sarah clenched her fists. I smiled and sighed: “The day I left, I completely destroyed her with the most vicious words I could think of. “In the end, she grabbed my arm, crying and begging me. She said things would get better soon, that she would definitely get us back to our old life. Seeing how glamorous and successful she is now, you probably can’t even imagine how pathetic and desperate she looked back then… haha…” Sarah asked quietly: “How did she finally let you go?” I thought back: “I told her she was a failure. That her past success was only because of Mom and Dad. “I told her that acting so pathetic now was dragging Mom and Dad’s reputation through the mud. I told her that if she cared about me even a little bit, she would let me go find my own happiness. “And then… she slowly let go of me.” The New Year’s bell rang. Fireworks exploded outside the window. I raised a hand and wiped the tears from my face. 6 [The Next Life — January 1, 2024, 0:00 AM — Then I Wish You a Long, Long Life · Part 3] Sarah turned to look out the window: “Happy New Year.” “Thank you.” “Aren’t you going to wish me well?” I looked up: “You’re asking a dying man for a blessing?” She gently placed her hand over my bony, emaciated one: “Please.” I looked at the warm, golden fireworks outside the window. It felt like I was bathed in hope. I smiled: “Then I wish you a long, long life.” The hand resting on mine clenched tightly, trembling slightly. Sarah stared out the window. I couldn’t see her expression. The camera quickly cut, showing that we had both gone to sleep. But in the darkness, my figure slowly appeared. I leaned in close to the camera, frowning: “Why did you forget to turn the camera off?” I raised a hand to turn it off, but paused. After thinking for a second, I dragged a chair over and sat in front of the lens, adjusting the angle left and right, doubt in my eyes: “Will anyone actually ever see this video?” More fireworks exploded outside, the warm, yellow light illuminating my face. I took a deep breath and smiled gently at the camera: “If anyone does see this, then… I wish everyone peace and joy, and a long, long life.” With that, I waved at the camera and hit the stop button.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391824”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was the glitch in a family of masterpieces. My parents and sister treated my existence like a long-running inside joke. My mother called me her “little eyesore,” and my sister once suggested I start a TikTok channel dedicated to “ugly-girl transformations,” minus the transformation part. Even the relatives couldn’t help themselves during the holidays: “Are you sure she’s yours, Robert? She doesn’t have a single one of your features.” For twenty-three years, I played the part of the family clown because it was easier than being the family disappointment. I worked three jobs, saved every cent, and finally scraped together twenty thousand dollars for the corrective jaw surgery and orthodontics I’d needed since middle school. I went to the clinic to finalize the surgery date, my heart light for the first time in my life. But the receptionist looked at me with a mix of pity and exhaustion. “Ms. Miller, your mother came in this morning. She caused such a scene we couldn’t even open the doors for two hours.” I froze, the blood draining from my face. “She demanded a refund on the grounds that you’re a minor—which we told her you aren’t—but then she started screaming about malpractice and ‘scamming a girl who’s beyond help.’ To get her to leave, the manager processed the refund. The twenty thousand is back in her account.” I called her, my hands shaking so hard I nearly dropped the phone. My mother’s voice was breezy, as if she were discussing the weather. “Oh, Casey, let’s be real. No surgeon can fix what nature messed up. That money was better spent on something that actually appreciates in value. Your sister needed a new bag for her firm’s gala—something that actually matches her face.” The call ended. My reflection stared back at me from the darkened phone screen. The harsh truth finally sank in: in this family, if you weren’t beautiful, you weren’t a daughter. You were just an expense. 1. “Look, Casey, your mom was a nightmare. We just couldn’t handle it,” the receptionist said, her eyes darting away. She looked at me like I was a contagion she might catch if she stayed too close. I couldn’t even process the words. My vision blurred, and the first tear hit the counter with a quiet thud. “Please, don’t start crying here,” she whispered, her voice sharpening with disdain. “She already chased off three of our high-end clients this morning, yelling about how ‘ugly people shouldn’t bother trying.’ We’re the ones who should be crying over lost commissions.” She took two steps back, a clear gesture of social distancing from my misery. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her that it was my money, my sweat, my blood. But my parents’ voices, echoes from a thousand childhood dinners, choked me: “Stop making those faces, Casey. When you cry, you look even more hideous.” The shame was a physical weight, dragging my shoulders down. I didn’t fight. I just turned and fled. On the Uber ride home, I opened Instagram. My sister, Madeline, had posted a new photo. Heart-shaped face, doe eyes, skin like filtered silk. She was radiant, the kind of beauty that made the vintage Chanel bag on her arm look like a mere accessory. She was sandwiched between Mom and Dad, all three of them beaming. The caption read: “Twin-check! Can you even tell who’s the mom and who’s the daughter? #FamilyGenes #GalaReady” The comments were a sea of fire emojis and heart-eyes. “God really has favorites,” one read. “That bone structure is elite.” Then, I saw Madeline’s reply to a friend who asked if there were any more of them at home: “You wouldn’t say that if you met my sister. We have one little genetic glitch in the basement! ~” She had attached a “throwback” photo of us from last Christmas. She had her arm around my neck, pulling me into the frame. I looked trapped. My skin was sallow, my jaw was noticeably misaligned—a pronounced underbite—and my eyes were puffed from a secret cry in the bathroom. Standing next to Madeline, I didn’t just look plain. I looked like a cautionary tale. In a family of high bridges and wide eyes, I was the anomaly. Every time we went out, strangers would stop my mother to gush over Madeline. “She’s a doll! She took the best of both of you.” Then their eyes would slide to me, and the smile would falter into a confused, polite grimace. “And… is this the younger one?” My parents’ faces would drop. My dad would let out a dry, forced chuckle. “Yeah, this one? We don’t know who she took after. If I hadn’t been in the delivery room, I’d swear there was a mix-up at the hospital. We just call her the ‘Little Eyesore.’” As a child, I didn’t understand the concept of aesthetics. I just knew that I was the only one kept out of the light. “Don’t eat that, Casey. You’re already an eyesore; being fat will just make it a tragedy.” “You want to take ballet with Madeline? You’d look like a toad hopping around. Let’s not embarrass ourselves.” “That pink dress looks garish on you. Keep it for the house. Don’t go outside and shame me.” They said these things with a smile, like they were doing me a favor by being “honest.” When I was fifteen, I saved up my allowance to buy some drugstore makeup. Madeline caught me trying to cover my acne and contour my jawline. She took photos of me mid-blend, laughing until she cried. “Look at you! You look like a clown in a horror movie. It actually makes it worse!” My mom walked in and swiped the products off the vanity, throwing them into the trash. “Focus on your grades, Casey. You don’t have the face for vanity. Next month’s allowance is cancelled since you want to waste it on trash.” Belittlement, insults, mockery… I had lived in that cold shadow for twenty years. I had worked myself to the bone to save for this surgery, thinking I could finally start my real life. The Uber pulled up to our driveway. I was still crying, but the sorrow was being overtaken by a white-hot, jagged rage. I marched toward the front door, ready to demand my life back. But as I reached the door, I heard laughter coming from the living room. “You guys won’t believe it,” my mother’s voice rang out, bright and amused. “Our little eyesore actually thought she could ‘fix’ herself. She’s been hoarding money for plastic surgery!” 2. The living room was full of people. A few aunts and cousins had stopped by for a pre-holiday drink. My mother was leaning back, wine glass in one hand, gesturing dramatically with the other. “The poor thing. I told her, ‘Honey, even a master sculptor couldn’t find a jawline in that mess.’ Thank God I caught it before she threw twenty thousand dollars down the drain!” An aunt chimed in, “I always wondered why she was being so stingy lately. To think, surgery! It’s so dangerous, moving bones around. She’s already… well, plain. Imagine if they messed up and her face stayed paralyzed? It would be a disaster.” Another aunt, Sarah, tried to play the diplomat. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Oh, come on, Diana. Casey isn’t… I mean, she’s very… hardworking. She has a very ‘salt of the earth’ look. The kind of girl who’s built for a long, quiet marriage.” The room went silent. Aunt Sarah looked down at her drink, sensing she’d failed to find a genuine compliment. Then, my parents and the other relatives exchanged looks and burst into laughter. “‘Salt of the earth’!” my mom wheezed, slapping her knee. “That’s one way to put it! She’s always been our little comedy act.” I stood in the doorway, the air in my lungs turning to ice. My blood felt like it was rushing backward, pounding against my skull. This was the family ritual. Madeline was the trophy to be polished; I was the punchline to be shared. “How are you so different from the rest of them? Were you a changeling?” the relatives would ask me every Thanksgiving. And my mom would lean in, whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Don’t tease her, she knows. She knows she’s the ‘special’ one. She tries so hard, though. Last week she tried to style her hair like Madeline’s. It was like putting a tiara on a gargoyle.” Every year, my pain was served as an appetizer. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stepped into the room, my voice a raw, jagged edge. “What gives you the right? That was my money. Give it back to me!” Every head turned. The silence was deafening. I felt exposed, like they were stripping me bare with their judgment. The old, familiar inferiority began to coil around my throat, choking me. “Oh, look at that,” my mother said, her smile not wavering. “Our little eyesore is growing a backbone. Don’t be so sensitive, Casey. We’re just talking.” The aunts crowded around me, their eyes sparkling with that fake, performative concern. “So, what were you going to get done, honey? Tell us. You can’t just go doing these things in secret. You’ll get scammed without us to look out for you.” Madeline came down the stairs then, humming a tune. She saw the scene and smirked. “She wanted to get her jaw broken and reset. She thinks if her teeth are straight, she’ll suddenly be a Hadid.” “Surgery for your teeth?” one cousin asked. “But Casey, your teeth are… fine. They’re functional. Your sister, now, she had that slight overlap when she was ten—remember, Diana? You spent a fortune on those specialized Swedish braces. Good thing you did, look at her now.” The conversation immediately pivoted back to Madeline. They circled her like she was a holy relic, praising her smile, her skin, her “perfect” recovery from a minor childhood flaw. I stood there, tears streaming down my face. My voice was a hoarse whisper. “The doctor said… he said my underbite could have been fixed with a simple retainer when I was seven. It would have cost almost nothing back then.” But you never looked at me. You never cared. When Madeline’s teeth were even a fraction of a millimeter out of alignment, it was a family emergency. Countless specialist visits, thousands of dollars. But with me, they just watched as my face grew lopsided, my jaw protruding more every year. They didn’t feel pity. They didn’t feel guilt. They just felt amused. “You’re getting weirder looking every year, Casey.” “Little Eyesore, that nickname really fits you more and more, doesn’t it?” 3. The years of accumulated bitterness finally overflowed. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, but the tears kept coming. The relatives started to look uncomfortable. They shifted in their seats, offering half-hearted, patronizing comforts. “Oh, Casey, you’re not ugly. You’re… unique. Don’t cry. It makes your face all blotchy.” They nudged each other, their eyes full of that cruel, “can you believe this drama?” sparkle. My mother’s patience snapped. She let out a sharp tsk. “What is this performance? Who are you trying to impress with these theatrics? It’s the holidays, for God’s sake. Don’t be embarrassing.” “Why?” I sobbed, my ability to think rationally gone. I just needed to bleed the pain out. “Why do you always call me that? Why have you spent my whole life making sure I knew I was the ‘ugly’ one?” My mom actually laughed. She looked at my dad, then back at me. “Are you serious? Look in a mirror, Casey. Have you no self-awareness? Madeline, go get a mirror. Let’s let her stand next to you and see if she still has questions.” She didn’t stop. She kept twisting the knife. “Look, we’re just being honest. We’re trying to give you a sense of reality so you don’t go out there making a fool of yourself. Look at what you’re wearing—that sweater makes you look lumpy. When you’re… aesthetically challenged… you have to work harder at your style, not just give up. People will laugh at you.” I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My chest was a hollowed-out cavern. “Yes,” I choked out. “I hate you. I hate both of you.” I hate the casual way you crushed me. Since I was a toddler, they treated Madeline like a porcelain doll. If she walked across the room, they’d rave: “Look at Madeline’s posture! She’s like a little swan.” I could be sitting perfectly still, and my father would look at me with a sneer. “Look at her, slouching. With that face, the least she could do is sit up straight so she doesn’t look so… pathetic.” The word “ugly” was my shadow. In high school, while Madeline was the homecoming queen, I was the girl with the cystic acne and the oily hair. My parents didn’t buy me skin treatments; they bought me a lecture. “My god, what is happening to your face? It’s genuinely hard to look at. What are we going to do with you?” “Casey, get some bangs. Cover that forehead.” “Just wear your oversized hoodies. At least they’re neutral.” I listened to them. I believed them. I developed a permanent slouch. I kept my head down. I wore masks long before the pandemic, just to hide. I wanted to disappear. My adolescence wasn’t a time of “firsts” or “memories”; it was a long, dark tunnel of dysmorphia. I assumed every laugh I heard in the hallway was directed at me. I assumed everyone saw the “eyesore” my parents saw. When I went away to college, three states away, I started to breathe. New friends would pull my hair back, or ask why I always wore a mask. “You’re not ugly, Casey. You’re just… tired. Let’s try some tinted moisturizer.” Encouraged, I tried. I grew out the bangs. I learned to use a brow pencil. But even when I felt “pretty,” the ghost of my mother’s voice was there. If a group of girls laughed at a nearby table, I’d spiral. Is my foundation too thick? Can they see my jaw? Are they laughing because the ugly girl is trying too hard? The insecurity was in my marrow. I once worked up the courage to post a selfie on Instagram—heavily filtered, carefully angled. I’d forgotten to block my family. Madeline’s comment was the first one: “Oof, Casey, that makeup isn’t doing what you think it’s doing. Aren’t you afraid people will see you in person and be shocked? #Catfish” My mom’s follow-up: “You’re trying too hard to be ‘glam.’ Makeup just clogs your pores and makes your skin worse. Stick to the basics, honey.” I deleted the photo. I threw away the makeup. When I came home for the summer, my mother didn’t even say hello. She just looked at my plain face and smirked. “Oh, good. You stopped wearing that ‘slutty’ makeup. You finally realized it was a losing battle?” Madeline chimed in, “You need to lose ten pounds before you try wearing a sundress like that again, Casey. Some clothes require a certain… face… to pull them off.” 4. Little Eyesore. The “Glitch.” The “honest” advice that felt like lead weights. I looked at them—my beautiful, perfect parents and my radiant sister. They were a united front of aesthetic superiority. “You call me ‘small-minded’ and ‘antisocial,’” I yelled, my voice cracking. “But you made me this way! You told me my smile was hideous, so I stopped smiling. You told me I moved like a toad, so I stopped dancing. You told me I looked like a joke in a dress, so I stopped trying to be pretty.” Every time I tried to climb out of the hole, they stepped on my fingers. “I hate you! I hate that you did this to me!” The room went dead silent. My mother blinked, a flicker of genuine shock crossing her face, followed quickly by indignation. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “We gave you everything. You’ve never wanted for food or a roof. And this is the thanks we get? Because we were ‘honest’ about your looks? A stranger would have been much crueler.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood. “I didn’t want honesty! I wanted a mother! I wanted someone to tell me I was smart, or kind, or anything other than a disappointment to the family photo album!” “Oh, please,” my mother scoffed. “You’ve had a perfectly fine life. Stop acting like a martyr.” I wanted to laugh. A fine life? Madeline’s closet was a boutique. Mine was a collection of hand-me-downs and clearance-rack neutrals. Madeline had private coaches for everything—piano, dance, tennis. I was told we “couldn’t afford” the extracurriculars I wanted, while Mom bought Madeline a four-thousand-dollar gown for a debutante ball she didn’t even win. I walked to school alone from the age of six because Madeline told my parents, “She’s so weird looking, people will think she’s my maid or something. It’s embarrassing to be seen with her.” I spent twenty years walking in the rain while they picked her up in a warm car. I spent twenty years being the “before” picture in their minds. “You’re biased!” I screamed. “You’re so obsessed with her beauty that you’ve treated me like trash for two decades! Why? Just because of a jawline? Just because I didn’t get your nose?” The relatives began to whisper. My parents were starting to look rattled by the public spectacle. “Go to your room, Casey,” my dad said, his voice a stern rumble. “You’re making a scene.” “No! Give me my money! You stole twenty thousand dollars from me to buy a bag for the daughter you actually like!” Slap. The sound echoed like a gunshot. My mother had swung with everything she had. My head snapped to the side, and my ear began to ring. “I didn’t raise a thief,” she spat, though she was the one who had taken my funds. “I raised a daughter. If you want to act like a stranger, then leave. Get out of my house.” I looked at her. Even in her rage, she was stunning. My father stood behind her, his handsome face set in a mask of cold disappointment. Madeline stood to the side, her arms crossed, looking bored. They were a set. And I was the packing material. “Fine,” I said, my voice finally steadying into something cold and dead. “Keep the money. Consider it the ‘ugly tax’ I’m paying to finally be rid of you. I’m leaving. And you never have to worry about your family photos being ruined by me ever again.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391412”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was my fifth birthday with Brooks Sterling, and like every year before, I sat alone, watching a table full of gourmet food turn cold. Brooks had promised, as he always did, that we’d celebrate together. And as always, he broke that promise. This year, the excuse was his childhood friend, Piper, who wanted to do a photoshoot. She invited him and his three best friends to be in it, and once again, he abandoned me without a second thought to rush to her side. At 11:00 PM, Piper posted a photo on her social media, visible only to me. In the picture, four men in nothing but boxer briefs and bow ties were kneeling on one knee, surrounding a woman clad only in a sheer veil. The caption read: “The little cupcake some people can’t have, I have the whole bakery.” I took a screenshot of the post and sent it to the girlfriends of Brooks’s three friends. Since you all look down on me so much, I hope you never have to kneel and beg me for anything in the future. 1 I stared calmly at the photo on my phone, feeling something inside me quietly shatter. In the picture, warm yellow light cascaded down, making the four men—dressed only in black boxer briefs and exquisite Windsor knot bow ties—look like Greek gods. They knelt on one knee, encircling a woman with eyes full of submission and loyalty, looking up at her as if she were a queen on a pedestal. The woman was draped only in a sheer black veil that was almost transparent. Her curvaceous figure was visible beneath the fabric, exuding a raw, unbridled desire. Her expression was haughty, her presence commanding and impossible to ignore. The caption was a deliberate provocation. “The little cupcake some people can’t have, I have the whole bakery.” Looking at the cold food on the table, then back at the image of Brooks and his three best friends looking like domesticated pets, I suddenly wasn’t angry anymore. Knowing it wasn’t worth it, what was there to be angry about? First, I liked Piper’s post. Then I commented below: “A bitch and dogs, a match made in heaven.” After commenting, I took a screenshot of the post and saved it, then sent it individually to the girlfriends of Brooks’s three best friends. Just as I finished taking the screenshot, the post magically disappeared. About ten minutes later, a flood of messages poured into my phone. I turned on my screen. Brooks’s three friends had sent me messages. Liam: “Sienna, are you sick in the head? What does me helping Piper with a photoshoot have to do with you? You actually told my girlfriend? Why is your mouth so cheap? Now she’s blowing up at me, are you happy?” Mason: “Sienna, you crazy bitch! What did I ever do to you? Why did you send that to my girlfriend? If you have nothing better to do, go die. Don’t start drama here!” Ethan: “Stupid bitch! Your reach is pretty long, isn’t it? Did I dig up your ancestral grave in a past life? I hope your whole family gets hit by a car when they walk out the door!” Reading the vile insults from the three of them, I opened the chat box to retort when Brooks’s call came through. I pressed answer, and Brooks’s exasperated voice came through the speaker: “Sienna, what kind of crazy stunt are you pulling in the middle of the night?” “Because you went and tattled, now Liam and the others’ girlfriends are all demanding breakups. Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused? Are you so twisted that you can’t stand to see others happy?” “Now Piper is crying from guilt, and it’s all your fault!” “I don’t care what you’re doing right now. Get your ass over here and explain everything, then apologize to Piper. Otherwise, don’t expect me to let you off easy next time.” “Piper is crying?” “Of course! If you hadn’t made Piper cry, would I be this angry with you? I’ve spoiled you too much. You’re getting more and more unreasonable.” “Is she still wearing that mosquito net that can’t even cover her headlights while she’s crying? Are you guys still wearing those matching black briefs while you comfort her?” Brooks’s voice suddenly became unnatural: “Sienna, stop being so unreasonable. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Really?” I sent him the screenshot of the post directly: “Brooks, when Piper dressed so sluttily for the photoshoot, did you guys get turned on?” Brooks hung up the phone immediately. 2 I guess he didn’t expect Piper to secretly post a picture to spite me, and Piper probably didn’t expect me to screenshot it and send it to the other three’s girlfriends. Seeing him hang up, I sent him a message: “Why did you hang up on me? Why aren’t you questioning me anymore?” The screen showed he was typing, but I never received the message. With no other choice, I posted the screenshot and the chat logs of Liam and the others cursing me onto my social media timeline. Caption: “Even if no one is with me, happy birthday to me.” It was already midnight, my birthday was over, but my timeline became active because of this photo. Many of my friends liked and commented on my post. “Whoa! Brooks went to be with someone else on your birthday? Sienna, you met a scumbag, didn’t you?” “Don’t be mad, Sienna. If he won’t celebrate your birthday, we will.” “Brooks usually looks so decent. How wild is he playing? Is this four jacks and a queen?” “OMG! She dares to wear that? Dressing like that and posting it on social media, is she trying to solicit customers?” Ten minutes after I posted, Liam’s girlfriend joined the fray. She also posted the screenshot and announced her breakup directly. “Today Liam can wear a pair of briefs to accompany her for a photoshoot, tomorrow he can strip naked and roll in the sheets with her. A worn-out shoe deserves a rotten sock. You lapdog, go lick your rotten abalone.” My already buzzing timeline became even more crowded because of Liam’s girlfriend’s self-disclosure. In just five minutes, the likes on her post exceeded a hundred. Even so, Brooks still didn’t give me any reply. But I am not a silent heroine in a novel who never speaks her mind. So, in the middle of the night, I sent the screenshot directly to Brooks’s parents. Now, Brooks finally stuck his head out of his turtle shell. Early the next morning, I received a call from Brooks’s mother. “Sienna, can you come over?” “Your uncle and I saw that photo. I think there must be some misunderstanding. Come over, and let’s clear things up.” “After all, you two have been together for so many years, and you’re about to get married. Why make things so difficult?” “Auntie, you saw the photo. I don’t think there’s any misunderstanding.” “You’ve seen how I’ve treated Brooks all these years. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong by him. I love him, but that doesn’t mean he can rely on my feelings for him to hurt me without fear.” After all, she was an elder, and I couldn’t be too disrespectful: “I’ll get ready and come over in a bit.” After hanging up, I put on simple makeup and drove out. When I arrived at the Sterling villa, Brooks’s parents were already waiting at the door. Brooks stood behind them, head bowed like a frosted eggplant. I got out of the car, and just as I closed the door, a black sports car suddenly rushed out from an angle and headed straight for me. “Sienna, look out!” Seeing the sports car about to hit me, Brooks rushed over and pushed me out of the way with a flying leap. “Bang!” I fell to the ground and saw Brooks fly into the air. 3 The sports car fled, and Brooks was rushed to the hospital. He pushed me away in the nick of time, but he was hit in the legs by the black sports car. Both of his legs were fractured, but his life was not in danger. Looking at Brooks lying in the hospital bed with casts on both legs, I was calm. Before yesterday, if I saw him hurt like this, especially because of me, I don’t know how guilty and remorseful I would be. If it were the me from before yesterday, I would probably throw myself on him and cry my heart out, wishing I could take his place. But now, I was glad he pushed me away so I only suffered minor injuries. Brooks, who had just finished surgery, was still very weak, his face pale as a ghost. His eyes fell on me, a faint light in them: “Sienna, I’m glad you’re okay.” I didn’t take his bait: “Brooks, do you know what day yesterday was?” There was impatience in his tone: “Sienna, I’m hurt. I got hurt for you. Can’t you see that?” “I’m hurt this bad. If it weren’t for me, you’d be the one lying here today. How can you be so cold-blooded? At a time like this, you’re still thinking about your stupid birthday. You’re too selfish.” Brooks’s mother on the side also looked at me reproachfully: “Yes, Sienna. Brooks got hurt for you. He’s your savior and your fiancé. How can you talk to him like that?” “You still know I’m your future daughter-in-law? I thought you had already set your sights on someone else.” I looked at Brooks in the hospital bed: “Answer my question. What day was yesterday?” Brooks was like a deflated ball: “Yesterday was your birthday, okay?” “Sienna, I just didn’t spend your birthday with you. Is it necessary to hold onto this and not let go?” “I promise you, I will definitely spend your birthday with you next year. Is that okay?” I found it a bit funny: “Then let me ask you, what were you doing on my birthday last year, the year before last, and the year before that?” “I…” Seeing him speechless, I began to help him recall: “Last year, Piper said she wanted someone to watch the sunset with her. You accompanied her to climb the mountain for a day, leaving me alone in the couple’s restaurant until it closed.” “The year before last, you said you would spend my birthday with me. I had the yacht all set up, but you temporarily ran off to help Piper move house and drove away my car, leaving me alone at the pier.” “The year before that, Piper returned to the country. You guys booked the five-star hotel under my name and celebrated for a week. Not only did you forget my birthday completely, but you still haven’t settled the hotel bill. I paid the deficit of over a million for you.” “This year, I won’t talk about others. You dressed yourself like a trafficked slave to accompany her for a photoshoot. Even streetwalkers dress more decently than she does. If I took pictures like that with a man, what would you think?” Anger rose in Brooks’s eyes: “Sienna, can you stop being so unpleasant?” “Piper took the photos to record the best version of herself. It’s an artistic creation, in pursuit of sexiness and charm. She dressed like that to understand her body more deeply and break through traditional concepts. Don’t talk nonsense if you don’t understand.” He rolled his eyes at me disdainfully: “I dedicated myself to art. You think it’s corrupting public morals not only because you have no artistic cells, but also because your thoughts are dirty, so you can’t accept others’ excellence.” “Hmm, you’re right. My boyfriend didn’t spend my birthday with me, so I should magnanimously forgive him and support him in pursuing art without complaint. Is that what you mean?” “Exactly. If you missed your birthday this year, there’s still next year. But what Piper loses is the youth that will never return once it’s gone. She just wants to record her most beautiful moment. As her friend, what’s wrong with me helping her achieve her dream?” I nodded in agreement: “Yes, you are absolutely right.” “Since you like pursuing art so much, I won’t stop you. Let’s break up.” 4 Hearing me mention breaking up, Brooks finally got anxious: “Break up? You want to break up over such a trivial matter?” “Sienna, are you crazy? Piper was alone. What’s wrong with me helping her as a friend? Can you stop making a scene here? I’m already like this. How long are you going to keep this up?” “I’m not making a scene. You only remember that Piper was alone, but my parents weren’t around either.” “Before they went abroad, they asked you to take care of me. How did you promise them then? Have you achieved it now?” Brooks simply refused to look at me in a huff: “Anyway, this is all your fault!” “Okay, since you insist that I’m wrong, I won’t say anything more.” “Take good care of yourself. I will pay for your medical expenses.” After speaking, I got up to leave. Brooks’s father on the side couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and slapped Brooks hard on the face. “Slap!” Brooks looked shocked: “Dad, why did you hit me?” Brooks’s mother pushed his father away and shielded Brooks: “Are you crazy? Why hit the child for no reason?” “I hit him!” “He’s about to get married, yet he’s still entangled with other women. Shouldn’t he be hit?” “If he hadn’t gone to see that woman, would he have been hit like this? It’s his own fault! He deserves it!” Brooks’s father turned to look at me apologetically: “Sienna, don’t be angry. Uncle will teach this brat a lesson for you. Uncle promises you that this kind of thing will never happen again.” “No need for a lesson.” I reached out to stop him from continuing: “I can forgive him, but I have a condition.” Brooks’s eyes lit up: “What condition? Tell me, I’ll do it!” “Call the police.” I looked straight into his eyes: “Call the police. Whoever hit you, sue him for attempted murder and pursue it to the end.” “Impossible!” If his legs weren’t broken now, he would have almost jumped off the hospital bed when he heard this. “Liam didn’t intend to hit me. I was just accidentally injured by him. He is my brother. If I sue him, we won’t even be brothers in the future.” “No! Absolutely not!” “Whatever.” I was too lazy to talk nonsense with him anymore and got up to leave. Before leaving the door, I stood at the door of the ward: “From today on, don’t expect your good brothers to get any benefits from the Davis family.” “Brooks, since you think the brother who wants to kill your fiancée is more important, then I’ll handle it myself.” Just as I walked out of the hospital, I saw Piper rushing to the hospital entrance. Seeing me, her eyes were contemptuous: “I heard Brooks is injured. I came to visit. You won’t mind, will you?” “No, I’ve already broken up with him. Let alone visiting, even if you roll in the sheets with him, I won’t mind.” After speaking, I tried to walk past her, but she stretched out her arm to stop me. “Sienna, don’t think you’re so great just because you have some stinky money. What can you do with money? Brooks still follows me around and can’t bear to let me go.” “You don’t think he really loves you, do you? He’s just reached the age to get married. He’s with you for his family’s company. To him, you’re just an inflatable doll for venting his lust. He told me this himself.” “Do you think he’s happy with you? When he’s with me, he never mentions a word about you. Whether he’s drunk or dreaming, he calls my name.” Her eyes were full of viciousness: “Not just Brooks, even Liam and the others are just a matter of me hooking my finger. I can order them around however I want.” I keenly detected the hidden meaning in this sentence: “So, Liam driving to hit me was also your idea?” “Hmph! I didn’t say that.” An arrogant expression appeared on her face: “You blockheads born into wealthy families don’t know what men really need, so you can’t hold onto your men’s hearts.” “I just can’t stand the high and mighty faces of you young ladies. I just want to take away your men and make you unhappy.” “As long as you’re sad, I feel comfortable.” I nodded, then looked behind her: “Did you all hear that?” Piper turned around and saw three women standing behind her with ferocious faces, led by Liam’s ex-girlfriend. “Are you the one named Piper? You’re pretty arrogant! Did playing shared boyfriend break your brain?” Piper looked at me incredulously: “Did you call them here?” I smiled maliciously: “I was waiting for them. Who were you waiting for?” 5 Piper was cornered by the three women: “What do you want to do?” “I warn you, if you dare touch me, your boyfriends won’t let you off!” “Let me tell you, don’t bully me. I’ve been injured, my brain doesn’t work well.” “Who are you scaring? As if anyone’s brain works well. If my brain worked well, would I find someone like Liam?” With that, Liam’s ex-girlfriend grabbed Piper by the hair and smashed her head against the wall, making Piper cry for her parents. The other two didn’t stay idle either. One started tearing her clothes, and the other grabbed her newly done manicure and scratched Piper’s face wildly. The madness was like Iori Yagami awakening the Orochi blood. “I’ll teach you to seduce other people’s boyfriends. I’ll teach you to pretend in front of me. Today I’ll ruin your face and see how you can still be a bitch and flirt with men!” “Don’t you love showing off? This time I’ll let you show off enough. Taking photos is boring. Let everyone see your shameless look!” In the corner in front of the hospital entrance, the three of them beat Piper wildly, making her scream repeatedly. She couldn’t take the beating anymore. Risking a few more hits, she pushed two of them away fiercely, then kicked one in the stomach. She finally broke free from the three’s encirclement and rushed out, trying to escape. She panicked and chose the wrong path. When passing by me, she was tripped by the foot I extended and rolled directly down the steps in front of the door. Seeing that she dared to resist, the three rushed over, regardless of whether it was her head or buttocks. Before she could get up, they pressed her to the ground, sat on her, and punched and kicked her. Piper uttered helpless cries, curled up like a big maggot with her head in her hands, crying and begging for mercy while being beaten awkwardly. “Stop fighting, I was wrong!” “I won’t dare seduce other people’s boyfriends next time, please stop fighting!” Her dress was torn into rags, her whole person was like an old mop head. Even the underwear inside the skirt was torn, revealing half of her white buttocks, which was stepped on solidly by a thin heel, making her howl in pain not like a human voice. More and more onlookers gathered, but no one helped her call the police. There were even occasional bursts of applause and cheers in the crowd watching the excitement. People are never stingy with their applause and cheers for shameless mistresses. Having seen enough, I was about to leave when I looked back and found Liam, Mason, and Ethan rushing over. The three rushed over to pull away the four women who were tearing each other apart. As a result, Liam’s girlfriend was even more angry when she saw her ex-boyfriend. She scratched Liam’s face fiercely, leaving five bright red fingernail marks on his face instantly. Braveling the storm of their girlfriends and ex-girlfriends, the three men managed to snatch Piper, who was covered in cuts and bruises, and protected the disheveled Piper behind them like flower protectors. Ethan was obviously the most unsettled one. Seeing that the three women were unrelenting, he raised his hand and punched his girlfriend on the bridge of the nose, causing her nose to bleed directly. He was stunned after hitting her. The Carter family’s business had been sluggish for the past two years, relying entirely on the market share allocated by my family and his girlfriend’s family to keep the business going. This girlfriend was not only a girlfriend to him, but also a benefactor protecting the Carter family. Ethan knew he had caused a catastrophe and was so scared that he knelt down immediately with a “thump”: “Baby, are you okay?” “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t pay attention just now. I’ll take you to bandage it right away.” He was almost paralyzed with fright. Just as he was about to reach out to help his girlfriend, his arm was grabbed. He turned his head and saw Piper pulling his arm, crying like rain on a pear blossom: “Brother Ethan, it hurts so much.” This “brother” was so sweet that even I, a woman, felt numbness over half my body when I heard it, let alone this idiot Ethan. Ethan was elated by this “brother”. He didn’t care about his girlfriend with the bleeding nose. He actually stood up to protect Piper and enter the hospital. Ethan’s girlfriend couldn’t take it anymore and blocked the hospital entrance, covering her bleeding nose: “Ethan, if you dare to choose her today, your whole family will get out to the train station to beg for food tomorrow!” Ethan got anxious: “Have you made enough trouble? Look at how you beat Piper. You are simply a shrew!” “I’m a shrew? You shot erotic photos with this bitch behind my back, and now you have the nerve to scold me? None of you Carters are good things!” A few people started a scolding war at the hospital entrance. Liam and the other two protected Piper behind them and directly scolded me, who was not involved in the fight on the side. “Stop arguing! Shut up!” Just as the scene was about to turn into a full-on brawl, a shout stopped the two groups’ saber-rattling. A few police officers appeared at the hospital entrance. The leading officer scanned the people present with a serious gaze: “This is a hospital, not a place for you to fight. If there is something you can’t solve, you can go to the police station. Making a noise here and affecting the normal work order of the hospital, you have violated the law!” He looked at everyone present: “Who is Liam?” Liam on the side hurriedly raised his hand: “I am, me!” He walked to the police officer and pointed at me: “Officer, it’s this woman making trouble here. Arrest her quickly!” As soon as the words fell, the police officer took out handcuffs and pressed them directly on his wrist. “Liam, you are suspected of intentional homicide and hit-and-run. Now we are summoning you according to the law. Please come with us.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391430”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was born unable to feel pain, yet I was a relentless people-pleaser. The first time my adoptive parents hit me, they covered my mouth with foul hands. “Stay quiet, or I’ll stab you dead!” “Worthless girl, I regret ever taking you in.” Since I felt nothing, I didn’t make a sound. Instead, I handed them a knife. “If it makes you happy, I’ll die.” Thinking I was mocking them, they stabbed me in the stomach. Blood spread across the floor. They finally smiled. Clutching my wound, I smiled back. Later, my rich biological parents found me. The day I arrived, a pale, doll-like girl rushed crying into their arms. The fake heiress looked at me tearfully. “Mom, Dad, now that Olivia is back, you won’t want me anymore, will you? I’ll just pack and leave.” My parents’ eyes filled with pity as they turned to scold me for being cold. Before they could speak, I lifted a vase and smashed it against my own head. “Don’t cry, sis. I’ll die right now, okay?” 1 The world instantly fell silent. Scarlett froze, her eyes wide, forgetting to cry. While my parents were contacting a family doctor, she recovered her wits and whispered fiercely in my ear, “You filthy beggar, what are you trying to pull?” “You’re dirty and smelly, not even worth a single one of my fingers. You’re completely unfit to be seen.” “If I were you, I would have drowned myself in a well by now, rather than coming back to embarrass Mom and Dad!” On the way home, my parents had already told me about our family situation. They were in a business marriage, both holding high-powered positions. Scarlett, on the other hand, had always been well-behaved and considerate since childhood, even gentle with the household staff. But this seemingly obedient sister didn’t seem to want me as her older sibling. A wave of hurt and fear surged through me. When my parents rushed in with the doctor, they found me sobbing and running out. Just then, a car sped by. I had no time to dodge and crashed directly into it. The screech of brakes ripped through the air, followed by a chorus of screams. My mother collapsed, terrified, while my father rushed to check on me. Tears streaming down my face, I whimpered, “Mom, Dad, perhaps I shouldn’t have come back?” My father helped me up, looking exhausted. “Olivia, your mother and I finally found you. How can you say such a thing?” I cried, tears pouring. “But Scarlett said I’m dirty and smelly, and that living would only embarrass you both.” My father’s brow furrowed, his face instantly darkening. Scarlett’s face went pale, and she shook her head frantically. “No, Dad, I didn’t…” She gave me a timid glance, her voice tinged with a victimized tone. “Sister, I know I took your place all these years, so it’s natural for you to resent me.” “But how could you falsely accuse me? I clearly said I welcomed you home.” She cried, looking utterly heartbroken, her shoulders trembling. Neighbors, drawn by the commotion, couldn’t bear it any longer and spoke up: “Scarlett is such a kind child.” “The one they brought back seems so unlikable, even risking her life just to vie for attention.” “She must have gone bad living outside. So young, yet so manipulative.” Listening to their scolding, I cried even harder. “Scarlett, do you really welcome me back? So, I just misunderstood? I’m so sorry. I’ll confirm again right now!” I choked back tears, pulled my phone from my pocket, and, in front of everyone, pressed play. 2 The phone screen was shattered, but the audio was still perfectly clear. The air hung in dead silence. The neighbors, who had just been vocally sympathetic, now lowered their heads awkwardly. On Scarlett’s face, only terror and panic remained. I clutched my phone, tears streaming down my face, pretending to be utterly miserable. “Mom, Dad, am I really as awful as Scarlett says?” “Of course not, Olivia,” my father reassured me gently. “You’re our precious child, found after so long, our only biological daughter.” But with so many eyes watching, and given that our neighbors were all wealthy and influential, making a scene would be disastrous. So, my father made a quick decision. “This is Scarlett’s fault. Your mother and I will talk to her properly. Shall we go to the hospital first?” With a single look from him, Scarlett reluctantly offered an apology. The crowd dispersed, and we quickly headed to the hospital. The doctor performed a thorough examination, confirming only minor scrapes and bruises, at which point my parents finally breathed a sigh of relief. Only Scarlett’s face was terrifyingly grim. Not only had my parents’ attitude towards her cooled, but her meticulously cultivated perfect image had also utterly collapsed. After my wounds were treated, I returned to the Howard house. Scarlett was summoned to the study, while I went to my room to rest. Because of what had just happened, the servants looked at me with sympathy. They led me to a bright, spacious room, not forgetting to thoughtfully close the door behind them as they left. The soft sheets carried a sweet scent, and I quickly felt sleepy. Just as my eyes were about to close, my arm was suddenly seized, and I was yanked violently from the bed. “Where did this beggar come from? Who gave you permission to sleep in Scarlett’s bed?!” My body was already weak. The pull sent me flying, my back slamming hard against the corner of a table, tearing my wounds open again. Looking up, a handsome young man stared at me with piercing eyes. He saw the blood on me, paused for a moment in surprise, then quickly stepped forward. But he merely went to straighten the sheets I had wrinkled. “Do you know how delicate silk sheets are? They’re easily ruined if they get dirty.” I was about to apologize when Scarlett walked in, having heard the commotion. “Eason, you’re here.” “Scarlett, what’s wrong?” Eason frowned, his eyes filled with concern as he saw her reddened eyelids. “Have you been upset?” “I’m fine,” Scarlett shook her head. “What were you and Olivia talking about?” At her words, Eason’s gaze shifted to me. “You’re Olivia Howard?” Without waiting for my answer, he kicked me again. “Were you intentionally putting on an act to embarrass Scarlett?” “Do you know her reputation has been ruined because of you? And now you’re in her room, are you trying to frame her again? So Mom and Dad will kick her out?!” “Let me tell you, even if you are the Howard family’s biological daughter, the only person I’ll ever marry is Scarlett!” So, he was Eason Knight, my fiancé. I secretly assessed them, truly believing they were a perfect match. Even if I didn’t say anything, I would never try to take him from Scarlett. “What, still scheming against Scarlett?” Eason sneered, his voice full of disdain. “Let me tell you, since I dared to hit you, I’m not afraid of you tattling!” Scarlett stood by, offering empty words of persuasion, but showing no intention of stopping him. Wiping away tears, I knelt before them, explaining. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was Scarlett’s room, and I never intended to frame her.” “Please don’t be angry. I’ll go explain everything to everyone right now.” Eason paused, his expression growing complex. Just as he was about to speak, Scarlett’s tearful sobs suddenly echoed from behind him. “Sister, why do you have to be like this?” “You’re Mom and Dad’s biological daughter. Whatever you ask for, they’ll agree to it without a second thought.” “Just like this room, you said you wanted it, and they immediately told me to give it to you…” These words were like adding fuel to the fire. Eason slapped me hard across the face. “You filthy beggar, why do you have to fight Scarlett for everything? If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t be so upset!” But I felt no pain. I looked up, my sole desire to make them happy, and asked, “Really? If I disappear, will Scarlett be happy?” Eason frowned, still cursing. “Yes! Without you, everything will be better!” The instant his words fell, my eyes suddenly lit up. Without hesitation, I turned and lunged towards the nearby railing. The next second, the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground mingled with screams. 3 I ended up in the hospital again. In the hospital room, Eason’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Knight, looked utterly embarrassed, forcing Eason to kneel and apologize to me. He resisted, disgruntled. “She jumped herself. Why should I apologize?” Mr. Knight rubbed his temples, a headache brewing. “If you didn’t do anything, would she just randomly jump from a height for no reason?” Eason turned his face away, pursing his lips in silence. Seeing this, Mr. Knight, enraged, grabbed his belt, ready to lash out. I struggled out of bed and shielded Eason. “Mr. Knight, it’s my fault. Please don’t blame him.” I used all my strength. Though I felt no pain, my struck shoulder quickly swelled and bruised. Eason was stunned, but still defiant. “Olivia, who told you to block for me?” “You claim you don’t compete or grab, yet the moment you returned, you took Scarlett’s room. Now you’re playing the good guy!” Scarlett, who had been silent, turned chalk-white. My mother looked at her in disbelief. “Scarlett, didn’t you suggest it yourself earlier?” Tears instantly welled in Scarlett’s eyes, and she stammered, “I’m sorry, Mom, Dad, I was just momentarily misguided. I was afraid that if Olivia came back, you wouldn’t want me anymore…” My mother shook her head in disappointment. “Scarlett Brooks, you’ve deeply disappointed us!” “Insecurity is not an excuse for your mistakes! You say you’re afraid, but do you even know what your sister went through before?” When I was five, I was kidnapped by traffickers. They intended to extort a hefty sum, but the police were hot on their heels, so they abandoned me and fled. My adoptive parents picked me up and used me as a punching bag. Because of my congenital insensitivity to pain, I was also emotionally slow. Day after day, year after year, watching the constant new wounds on my body, I mistakenly believed this was how love was expressed. People-pleasing became my only means of survival. I looked at my parents’ ashen faces, then glanced at Scarlett, who was on the verge of fainting from crying. Before Eason could rush to her side, I spoke. “Mom, Dad, Scarlett didn’t mean it. Please don’t blame her.” The hospital room fell silent. Everyone exchanged glances. My mother squeezed my hand tenderly but didn’t utter another word. Scarlett was ultimately grounded for three days. As for Eason, he started avoiding me from that day on. Perhaps to make amends, or to show how much they valued me, my parents spent a fortune hosting a grand welcome-home banquet. On the day of the banquet, my parents dressed me like an exquisite doll. They held my hands, one on each side, solemnly introducing me to the guests. I looked back and met Scarlett’s gaze across the room. Earlier, as a gesture of apology, the Knight family had generously transferred five percent of their company’s shares to me. Scarlett, as their future daughter-in-law, hadn’t even received a meager one percent. Yet, these past few days, she hadn’t caused any trouble, and her hostile attitude towards me had softened. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was finally willing to accept me and live in peace. So, when Scarlett suggested we go outside for some fresh air, I hesitated for a moment, then nodded, drawn by her sweet smile. But reality often defied expectations. When we reached our destination, I only saw a few young men, street thugs. I looked at Scarlett in confusion, about to speak, when a resounding slap landed hard on my face. Punches and kicks rained down on me. I curled up on the ground, shielding my head with my hands. Scarlett stood nearby, frowning in dissatisfaction. “Haven’t you guys eaten? Why isn’t she even screaming?” But even as they gasped for breath, exhausted, I remained silent. Seeing my battered state, Scarlett merely admired it, her eyes full of triumph. Through my messy hair, I met her gaze. “Scarlett, does this make you happy?” “Of course!” She strode forward, grabbing my hair. “Olivia Howard, I wish you would just die!” “I’m supposed to be the only young lady of the Howard family! Why did you come back? Why are you trying to steal Mom and Dad from me?!” Tears streamed down my face, my eyes filled with pleading. “Scarlett, what do I need to do for you to accept me?” Scarlett burst into laughter at my words, her face contorted with twisted pleasure. “Accept you? Not unless I’m dead! Otherwise, I’ll never accept you in this life!” The next second, her laughter abruptly ceased. I picked up a brick from the ground and brought it down forcefully.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391448”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The photos from my belated wedding photoshoot with my husband turned out so stunning that the studio featured them as a “client showcase.” Two days later, my showcase photo was Photoshopped into a funeral portrait, and the bridal shop was swamped with online hate. “What kind of reputable shop shoots wedding photos for a mistress?!” “My husband and I have been together for three years! And she’s knowingly a home-wrecker! How dare she even get wedding photos taken!” I rushed to the bridal shop, intending to clear things up, only to collide head-on with a woman. She pointed at me, shouting, “That’s her! She seduced my boyfriend!” “Today, I’m going to show all the netizens what happens to a mistress!” Before I could explain, they started attacking me without a word. They shaved my head, slapped my face until it was paralyzed, broke two of my ribs, and I miscarried… As I lay dying, I called my assistant. “Cancel the wedding reception I was planning with Gabriel Maxwell! Also, find me a lawyer to file for divorce!” A mere trophy husband, spending my money to support a mistress. I’ll make him regret this! … Seeing the funeral portrait forwarded by a friend, my blood boiled. I immediately called the bridal shop. To my surprise, the manager on the other end sounded even more furious than I was. “Get over here right now and explain yourself to Mrs. Maxwell!” Mrs. Maxwell? Could there genuinely be another Mrs. Maxwell besides me? Confused, I rushed to the shop. From a distance, I saw a large crowd gathered around the entrance. The woman at the front spotted me and shrieked, “That’s her! This vixen! She seduced my husband!” The manager hurried to calm her. “Mrs. Maxwell! Mrs. Maxwell! Let’s talk inside, calmly!” “Mrs. Maxwell?” I eyed the woman warily. I didn’t know her at all, so how could I have stolen her husband? I forced down my anger, trying to sound calm. “Excuse me, do we know each other?” A woman who came with her grabbed my hair without a word. “What are you pretending for? Who doesn’t know Isabelle is the young madam of Maxwell Enterprises?!” Isabelle? Could this be the ‘junior colleague’ Gabriel had sometimes mentioned? I subconsciously asked, “You’re Isabelle Hampton?” She snorted, looking down, then raised her hand and slapped me. “Is the wife’s name something a mistress like you can even utter?!” It really was her… All this time, Gabriel had told me Isabelle Hampton was an ambitious junior colleague with an unfortunate family background. Out of sympathy, I even suggested he help her more. But I never imagined that Isabelle Hampton was actually his mistress, and he was spending my money on her! Before I could fully process it, she grabbed my wrist and shrieked, “Oh, you! You even stole the Cartier bracelet my husband gave me!” I looked at the bracelet on my wrist. It was clearly one I had bought myself, which had gone missing recently. Could it be that Gabriel had been taking my own gifts to give to her? I struggled, shaking free, and yanked off the bracelet. “This bracelet is mine! My initials, LSQ, are engraved inside. Look closely!” She promptly smashed the bracelet to the ground, then stomped on it repeatedly. “Who’s to say you didn’t steal it and then secretly engrave it?!” “A mistress like you, what could you possibly want from seducing someone’s husband? Money, obviously!” I was honestly infuriated to the point of laughter. “You say you’re the wife. Are you legally married?!” Hearing this, Isabelle pulled out her phone and showed several intimate photos of herself and Gabriel. She scrolled through numerous photos: intimate selfies with Gabriel, love letters, and promises he’d written to her. Tears streamed down her face as she wailed, “Yes, we haven’t officially registered our marriage, but we’ve been together for three years! We were already planning our wedding!” “But that’s no reason for you to interfere! You’ve ruined my family; you’re nothing but a mistress!” I stared at those photos, feeling a prickling sensation on my scalp, my vision blurring. Gabriel, who always appeared cool and restrained in front of me, had taken such photos and written such declarations of love for her. Married for five years, betrayed for three. It was utterly laughable. Seeing more and more onlookers gather, the manager grew anxious. She grabbed me, pulling me into the shop, lowering her voice. “Miss Lee! Just admit it! Apologize to Mrs. Maxwell!” “If you keep this up, our decades-old brand will be ruined by you!” 2 “What?!” I violently shook off the manager’s grasp, staring at her in disbelief. “I’m your customer, aren’t I?” “Not only did I purchase your most expensive package, but I also referred many friends to you. Is this appropriate?” The manager quickly let go of my hand, shaking her head and waving at Isabelle, a look of disdain on her face. “Mrs. Maxwell! Don’t listen to her! Our shop doesn’t welcome mistresses like her as customers. If you hadn’t found us, we wouldn’t have known she was such a person!” The people around us all raised their phones, whispering, “How shameless! Are mistresses always so arrogant?” “Even if they’re not legally married, you can’t so blatantly destroy someone else’s family! You act like being a mistress gives you some kind of superiority!” A wave of injustice washed over me. I quickly explained, “No! Don’t listen to her one-sided story! Based on just a few photos, how can you assume I’m a mistress?!” “Gabriel Maxwell and I have been married for five years! I’m not a mistress! If you don’t believe me, I’ll call him over right now!” Saying this, I picked up my phone, ready to make Gabriel come and clarify everything. But Isabelle snatched my phone, scoffing, “Lie, keep lying! Married for five years? And only now getting wedding photos? Who are you trying to fool?!” I froze, looking at her, and retorted, “Is it forbidden to take wedding photos after five years of marriage?” When Gabriel and I got married, he was just an ordinary employee, penniless. There were no traditional wedding gifts or dowry, let alone wedding photos or a reception. This year was our fifth anniversary, and it was his idea to make up for all the missing ceremonies. I had been so touched, believing his love for me was as strong as ever. But now, it seemed I had been foolish. My retort made Isabelle stumble. The woman next to her shoved me, sharply admonishing, “What is your attitude?!” Seeing this, the manager quickly stepped in, pulling them back, a forced smile on her face as she spoke to Isabelle. “Mrs. Maxwell, please calm down! I’m a victim here too! I will definitely sue this woman, make her compensate my losses, and restore our shop’s reputation!” She took Isabelle’s hand, trying to coax her into the shop. “Please don’t be angry, let’s go inside and talk calmly…” I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. The manager had turned against me so quickly, probably because Maxwell Enterprises also had an investment in this shop. But what they didn’t know was that Maxwell Enterprises owed its existence to me! Without me, Clarissa Lee, there would be no Maxwell Enterprises! Before the manager could finish, Isabelle raised her phone high, started a live stream, and shouted into the camera, “Everyone, look at this bridal shop! They’re actually using a mistress’s wedding photos with my husband for their showcase! This is absolutely outrageous!” She pointed at me, accusing hysterically, “And this woman! She’s ruining my relationship with my husband, she’s unrepentant, and she’s still trying to argue! How shameless!” The woman next to her chimed in, “She even lies, saying she’s been married to someone else’s husband for five years! What a joke!” “A vixen like her should be exposed for everyone to see!” The live stream instantly flooded with viewers. Swayed by Isabelle’s inflammatory remarks, they quickly filled the comments section: [What are you waiting for? Why aren’t you hitting her?!] [This woman clearly had plastic surgery. If it were me, I’d beat her until her own mother wouldn’t recognize her!] My heart sank. Seizing a moment when they weren’t looking, I snatched back my phone and quickly dialed 911. However, Isabelle was quick. She slapped my phone to the ground, yelling, “You dare call the police?!” Seeing them rolling up their sleeves, I had to explain again. “Gabriel Maxwell and I have been married for five years! We have a marriage certificate! If you feel wronged, you should question Gabriel, not me!” Isabelle ignored my explanation, picking up my phone and smashing it against my face. A sharp pain, and then warm liquid streamed down my cheek. The surrounding crowd gasped. I lay on the ground, my vision blurry. She poked my temple hard with her finger, sneering, “My husband was just playing around with you! Did you actually take it seriously?!” “You’re at death’s door, and you still dare to use my husband to scare me! Beat her!” With that, I was brutally kicked and pinned to the ground, unable to move. Isabelle’s hand repeatedly struck my face, each slap echoing loudly. I barely opened my mouth to speak, only to be struck again, forcing out a whimper. Just then, a sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. I instinctively clutched my stomach. “Oh no…” I looked at the manager, pleading for help, but she only stood by, clucking, “You were so sickeningly sweet and seductive that day; no wonder Mr. Maxwell was so affectionate, even willing to do an eighty-thousand-dollar wedding photoshoot with you.” “I thought you were some rich lady, but you’re just a vulgar gold-digger!” “If you knew you’d get what was coming to you from the wife, why did you break up their family in the first place?” Isabelle’s face darkened further hearing this. She stood up, repeatedly stomping on my back with her high heels. I felt like every bone in my body was shattering. Tears welled in my eyes, only making her more excited. She crouched down in front of me, her sharp acrylic nails scratching my face, cursing, “An eighty-thousand-dollar wedding photoshoot?! You really have the nerve to demand that!” “I think someone like you isn’t even worth eighty cents!” The manager glanced at my face, then sidled up to Isabelle, fawning, “Mrs. Maxwell, don’t worry, the security camera at our shop entrance just happened to be broken. I’ll also testify for you that this mistress provoked you first…” “But please, be lenient and clarify for our shop online. We had no idea she was a vixen; we’re victims too!” Isabelle didn’t even glance at her. Instead, she grabbed my hair. “You shameless woman, stealing my bracelet is bad enough, but you even dare to copy my hairstyle!” “Shave her head for me now! Let’s see how she’ll seduce other women’s husbands after this!” This long hair, I had grown it for Gabriel. He once said he liked long, wavy hair, and I immediately changed from my previous short haircut, keeping it for two whole years. Now, looking back, wasn’t Isabelle’s hair long and wavy? It turned out, from beginning to end, I was just a clown. The woman next to her grabbed a pair of scissors from the shop and aimed for my head. I trembled with fear but dared not move, terrified she would injure me. I glared at Isabelle, shouting, “If you do this to me, Gabriel Maxwell will not let you get away with it!” Isabelle, as if hearing a joke, threw her head back and laughed. “Who doesn’t know my husband dotes on me fiercely?! Do you think he’ll do anything to me for a vixen like you?!” The words had barely left her lips when my hair was severed. She didn’t hold back; my vision blurred, and I could only lie weakly on the ground, muttering, “Call the police…” Finally, a kind passerby, unable to watch any longer, called for help. Isabelle also called Gabriel. She deliberately put him on speaker, her voice sickly sweet. “Honey! That vixen who keeps imitating me and trying to seduce you, I caught her today!” “But she actually dared to call the police! Honey, you need to come and teach her a lesson!” I yelled into her phone, “Gabriel Maxwell… we’re over…!” Gabriel, hearing my voice on the other end, sounded panicked. He quickly said, “Where are you? I’m coming right away!” Hanging up, Isabelle looked triumphant. “Just watch, my husband will definitely leave you!” Just then, officers rushed in. Seeing my state, they were shocked and immediately rushed me to the hospital. As soon as I got into the car, I eagerly opened my phone, completely ignoring the dozens of messages and missed calls from Gabriel. Instead, I called my assistant. “Cancel the wedding reception I was planning with Gabriel Maxwell! Also, find me a lawyer to file for divorce!” He’s nothing but a decorative vase. Once he’s tainted, I don’t want him!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391469”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My father loved my mother to the point of obsession, but she died because of me. Later, he adopted another daughter. The adopted daughter looked exactly like my mother. On our sixteenth birthday… He treated his adopted daughter like a beloved princess, while his guests mistook me for the maid’s daughter. Right then, my phone rang. “Happy birthday, baby! It’s been so long, Mommy missed you so much!” Me: ! My mother had returned. 1 When Chloe’s guests ordered me to wash her car, my father, Arthur Davis, happened to return from an outing. His assistant, trailing behind him, presented a priceless crystal castle to Chloe. Immediately, Chloe’s classmates gasped in awe. Their envy was palpable. Then, I heard Arthur’s voice, filled with indulgence and affection: “A castle for my princess. Happy birthday, my one and only little princess.” His only princess. I rolled those words around in my mind, a bitter taste spreading through my chest. Today wasn’t just Chloe’s birthday. It was mine, too. But, just like every other year, I received nothing. Because in Arthur’s eyes, I was a sinner. I didn’t deserve a birthday. Because I killed my mother. 2 Ten years ago today, my mother was in a fatal car accident while going out to buy the strawberry cake I was crying for. She left us forever. From that day on, Arthur hated me with every fiber of his being. At her funeral, he announced to everyone, “Harper Davis is no longer my daughter.” I crouched on the ground, blinking my red, swollen eyes at him, completely lost and confused. I was too young then to understand his cruelty. Only as I grew older did I realize how absolute that rejection was. Later. His company went public, and his net worth skyrocketed. After becoming a wealthy CEO, he adopted Chloe. From then on… He only loved Chloe. Chloe lived in the master suite of our mansion; I lived in the maid’s quarters. Chloe was chauffeured to school; I took the public bus. Chloe’s closet overflowed with new designer clothes; I wore whatever she discarded. Chloe lived like royalty. I lived like a live-in servant. It was true, though. I was a servant with no parents. 3 But I wanted to be a princess, too. I remembered Arthur promising me that when I was little. Back then, my mother was still alive. Arthur’s company was just starting out, and our family of three was crammed into a tiny, two-bedroom apartment. To support him, my mother secretly transferred the holiday money my grandfather gave me into Arthur’s account. “Harper and I don’t need much. Don’t worry,” she would always coax him. I loved to parrot her words. “Daddy, don’t worry! Harper will give you all her allowance…” Before I could even finish, Arthur broke down. He pulled us close, pressing his face between ours. Soon, scalding drops fell onto my chubby cheeks. They tickled. Looking back, those must have been his tears. Before I turned ten, he would constantly tell me: “When Daddy becomes successful and makes lots of money, my Harper will be a princess. How does that sound?” … See? He promised. But he broke his promise. As I was lost in thought… A snobbish, polite voice interrupted me: “Excuse me, maid girl? Why aren’t you washing the car? Do you think just because I’m Chloe’s classmate, you can ignore me?” Chloe went to an elite private school. Her classmates were all rich kids, naturally acting high and mighty. But. I wasn’t a maid. I glared at her, about to snap back. But the next second… Arthur’s cold voice cut through the air, directed at me. “Why aren’t you going?” Why aren’t you going? Hearing those words felt like taking a sledgehammer to the chest. How could I forget? In Arthur’s eyes, I was just a maid. “Right away.” 4 Arthur had made it clear: if I ever displeased him, he would cut off my tuition and living expenses. But. I had promised my mother I would get into the best university. I couldn’t break my promise to her. So. As long as Arthur kept paying my tuition, I would endure anything. I bit my lip gently and turned around. Then. A soft voice called out from behind me: “Daddy, why don’t we let Harper blow out the candles with me? It’s her birthday today, too. She was actually really looking forward to it. Yesterday, she even snuck into my closet and tried on my evening gown…” I frowned. I turned around to say I hadn’t done any such thing. But a wave of disgusted murmurs erupted: “Oh my god, a maid actually dared to wear her employer’s dress?” “Chloe, did you get that dress dry-cleaned?” “Unbelievable.” “So she’s a thief, too.” 5 Hearing those whispers, I almost charged over and shoved Chloe’s face into the cake. I wanted her dead. I admit it. Last night. When she was showing off her new dress, I was envious. But that was it. Just envious. I never stole anything… I am not a thief. My eyes turned red with fury, but I didn’t dare move an inch. Because. Arthur seemed to anticipate my reaction and stepped protectively in front of Chloe. He glared at me, his face dark with fury. Disgust. Hatred. Coldness. “How could she give birth to a daughter like you? Apologize. Or you’re expelled tomorrow.” Threatening me again. Hah. “How could she marry a husband like you?” I shot back. The moment the words left my mouth. Arthur’s face turned completely black. I had never seen him look so terrifying. 6 Slap— A resounding slap echoed through the living room. Arthur had ignored me for a decade, but this was the first time he ever struck me. Within seconds. My right cheek swelled up painfully. I was furious and heartbroken. But. What could I do? I was only sixteen. I only had this father in name. A father who… Ignored me. Hated me. Threatened me. Hit me. It was true. He didn’t love me. Not even a little bit. Meanwhile. Chloe, acting as if she had accidentally caused a scene with her “good intentions,” rushed over to play peacemaker. “Daddy, it’s normal for girls to like pretty dresses! I didn’t mean to get her in trouble.” Then what did she mean? Whatever. I had already been hit. Nothing else mattered now. So. Slap. Slap. Slap. I slapped Chloe three times in rapid succession. “That’s the price for framing me.” 7 After I hit her, Chloe crumbled like a fragile flower. “Harper Davis!” Seeing Chloe looking so disheveled, Arthur’s face filled with distress. He helped her up himself. He comforted her softly: “Does it hurt? Daddy will call the doctor right now.” Chloe covered her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’s okay, Daddy. Don’t blame Harper. Please… don’t hit her again.” Once she said that. Her classmates snapped out of their shock and began condemning her for being too “kind.” They all urged Arthur to throw me out. Hah. Throw me out. It was ironic, and pathetic. I looked up, making eye contact with Arthur for the first time in years, and saw the absolute coldness in his eyes. His voice was devoid of any emotion. “Harper. I am sending you to an orphanage. Starting today, you will never set foot in this house again.” An orphanage. I was perfectly fine with that. I was already an orphan anyway. Plus. I could still go to school if I lived there. It was miles better than staying near Arthur. …A few moments later. Arthur’s assistant escorted me out. I turned and walked away, head held high. I felt no attachment whatsoever. However. I hadn’t taken two steps when the phone in my pocket suddenly rang. I didn’t want to answer it at first. But the vibration pulsed steadily, like someone knocking on the door to my heart. Finally, I pulled it out. I glanced at the caller ID. Instantly. I froze. I couldn’t believe it. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. “Mom…” “It’s Mom!” I stopped dead in my tracks. The assistant beside me rushed me, “Hurry up, Mr. Davis doesn’t want to see you…” I ignored him. With trembling fingers, I answered the call. Even though I knew it was impossible. My mother was dead. It had been ten years. This number had never been active. Was it a cruel prank? But even so. My mother was dead. I answered, but didn’t dare speak. I just stood there, mouth agape, frozen. Then, a voice came through the speaker. A painfully familiar voice— “Baby! Happy birthday! It’s been so long! Mommy missed you so much!” Her voice, amplified by the phone’s speaker, echoed throughout Arthur’s living room. 8 My mother’s voice was exactly as I remembered it. It hadn’t changed at all. Like a warm cup of water. Comforting and soft. “Mom…” I burst into tears. Is it really you? Mom? Are you calling me from heaven? I gripped the phone tightly, my fingers trembling. In that moment, it was the most precious thing in the world to me. But the next second. My hand was empty. Arthur had snatched the phone away. “Give it back!” I ground my teeth in fury. Did I not even have the right to talk to my dead mother? She called me. Not him! I reached up to grab it, but Arthur was too tall. He shot me a cold look and ordered the assistant to pull me away. As our eyes met, I saw that his were red. Yet, when he spoke, his voice was perfectly calm. “Who is this? Why are you impersonating my late wife?” Me: … Was he deaf? Could he not recognize her voice? Every instinct told me that this was my mother. Sure enough, a moment later. The voice snapped through the phone: “I am Eleanor Vance, your wife! Arthur Davis, didn’t you used to say you’d recognize me even if I turned into the wind?! What is this? You can’t even recognize my voice now? Have you forgotten me?! Fine, give my daughter back, we’re getting a divorce!” It had been a very long time since anyone dared to speak to Arthur like that. His assistant trembled, terrified he was going to explode. Instead, Arthur’s face visibly softened. When he spoke, he sounded like he was choking back sobs. “Eleanor. Is it really you? Where are you? I’m coming to get you right now.” He looked overjoyed. A middle-aged man acting like an ecstatic boy. “And don’t you dare say the word divorce! I will never divorce you!” Eleanor sighed in exasperation. “Make sure you bring our daughter. Our Harper must be so beautiful now.” 9 Hearing that I was going to see my mother. I was delirious with joy. I wanted to sprint out the door right then and there. But as I turned. A hand yanked me back. I looked over my shoulder. It was Arthur. He stared at my face for a moment. “Let’s go together.” I paused, touching my right cheek. It was still swollen. My mother just said I must be so beautiful now. She was going to be disappointed. I wasn’t beautiful at all right now. Arthur seemed to realize this too. He ordered a maid to take me upstairs to shower and change. I refused. “No need.” Even if I wasn’t pretty right now. I didn’t want to lie to my mother. And I especially didn’t want to lie to her with Arthur. I wanted her to know that my life had been miserable these past few years. I wanted her to know that Arthur had slapped me. Arthur was silent for a few seconds, but didn’t force the issue. Before leaving, he glanced back at Chloe’s guests and frowned. He ordered his staff to see them out. Instantly, Chloe’s face turned a sickly shade of green. She walked over, looking pitiful, staring up at Arthur with wide, starry eyes. “Daddy, are you leaving? My mom is coming over soon. She said you have a weak stomach, so she made you a special dinner.” Hearing that, I almost rolled my eyes. A special dinner. The mere sight of that mother-daughter duo was enough to make anyone sick. Chloe’s mother had been in a coma from a car crash, which was why Arthur adopted Chloe. A few years later, her mother woke up. Instead of taking her daughter back, she constantly used “visiting Chloe” as an excuse to cozy up to Arthur. Arthur just gave a noncommittal “Hmm,” grabbed the car keys from his assistant, and looked at me. “Let’s go.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391487”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At my husband’s funeral, everyone tried to comfort me, telling me not to be sad. But I wasn’t sad. After the funeral, I worked five straight days of overtime. Reeking of the office, my mother-in-law forced me to go home and rest. She told me I had to look forward. Of course I had to look forward. I even had blind dates to go on. 1 It was my first time attending a funeral, and the main character was Liam Hayes. It felt incredibly weird. I chose the photo myself. A normally serious man, pushing his nose up to make a silly, ugly face. It was one of the very few photos where he was goofing off. I thought my mother-in-law would blame me, and that relatives and friends would say I was disrespecting the deceased, but no one seemed upset. They approached me carefully, their eyes darting away, afraid to make eye contact. So annoying. I turned my head, smiled at my husband lying in the casket, and said, “Hey, nobody told me funerals were like this?” So novel. “My condolences, Sarah,” my sister-in-law said, patting my shoulder. “My brother wouldn’t want you to be this heartbroken.” I found it funny. I earnestly searched my mind for any trace of emotion and shook my head. “I’m not heartbroken.” She sighed. “Don’t be like this. It… it makes me hurt for you.” My mother-in-law also pressed my shoulders, urging me to go rest on the side. “Mom, I’m not tired,” I said, spinning around in front of her. “Look, I’m full of energy. I could wrestle a bear.” I almost felt like this was just a normal banquet, it was just a pity I had to stand and couldn’t go down and eat. I saw the coral grouper earlier. That’s my favorite fish. I’ll definitely pack a few in plastic bags later. Oh, and the mixed salad. I heard the chef here is amazing at cold dishes, so I specifically ordered it. Grumble… My stomach growled. I rubbed my stomach and giggled foolishly. Under everyone’s sympathetic gaze, I stood for 28 hours straight, not feeling sleepy at all. Unfortunately, by the time dawn broke and the crematorium staff arrived, I still hadn’t had time to eat from that banquet table. No other reason than there were too many trivial things to deal with. I complained to the casket, “This is too much trouble. Good thing you’ll only bother me with this once. Hmph.” I chose the most expensive urn for Liam, and even put his favorite cologne inside. It was a custom-made cologne he bought casually on the street—a light, woody scent. Liam used it for many years. He said the scent was like him, gently seeping into the fabric. I didn’t understand what he meant. I just felt that even if he wore the most disgusting smell, I would still love it. What can I say? The filter of true love is strong; it even affects your sense of smell. The lid closed, and the fragrance faded. I calmly handled the final arrangements and hurried home to change clothes. I smelled terrible, so I took a long, hot bath. My boss called. “Sarah, your husband just passed. Don’t rush back to work. I’m giving you a few days off.” But corporate slaves don’t deserve rest. When I showed up at the office for overtime, my coworker, Linda, shivered. “Sarah, are you okay? Didn’t your husband…” I was very impatient. I’d been explaining to people non-stop these past few days that my husband died. How could this coworker forget again?! I stared intently at my computer, typing out a proposal. “Mr. Peterson is coming over in two days. If I don’t keep an eye on this, everyone’s year-end bonus is going to vanish.” She let out a weird yelp and ran out holding her coffee. My boss pressed down on my shoulder. “Don’t rush. The work is never-ending. You had a family tragedy; you need to take a couple of days off…” “Sigh, I’m fine. I’ve got plenty of energy.” I ran my fingers through my hair, continuously editing the proposal. He sighed, and the office returned to silence. 2 The office was dead silent. The sound of my typing grew louder and louder. It felt like there was a fire in my chest, and I didn’t know how to let it out. I wanted to slack off and look at my phone for a bit. I swiped to a funny video and wanted to share it, but suddenly remembered I had no one to share it with. I pondered for a moment, then took Liam’s phone out of my pocket and texted myself: “Wifey, wifey, why aren’t you home yet?” I replied: “Be good, the project bonus is twenty grand! Once I get the bonus, I’ll take you on a trip to Hawaii.” Much better. I put down the phone and kept typing. At 2:30 AM, I sent a text to Mr. Peterson. [Mr. Peterson, when are you available to come over and discuss the contract?] I waited ten minutes. The phone was as quiet as a mouse. I couldn’t help but call him. Mr. Peterson replied, his voice heavy with sleep, “I’ve had some family matters recently. Let’s talk in a couple of days, okay? It’s so late, Sarah, aren’t you tired?” Family matters? Could his family matters be bigger than Sarah’s family matters? I poked at my phone, furious. My husband died, and even I wasn’t as busy as him. But I couldn’t complain to a client. Since he didn’t have time, I continued to refine the proposal, typing out every minor detail I could think of, and even preparing five or six backup plans. I hadn’t slept for almost a week, but my energy was still high. The city night was silent. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window holding my coffee, looking down at the entire city. In the dark office, the faint glow from the computer screen illuminated my face. I looked at my reflection in the glass. I just passed my thirtieth birthday, and I didn’t look much older. After pulling so many all-nighters, my face hadn’t sagged, and my dark circles weren’t that bad. I marveled at myself—I truly had the innate physique of a corporate workhorse. My phone alarm went off, reminding me it was time to take my folic acid. Liam and I had been doing well in our careers recently, so we started preparing for pregnancy, getting everything ready to welcome a new life. Expressionless, I tossed the folic acid into the trash can. My chest twitched with pain, but I still wasn’t sad. Birth, aging, sickness, and death are just parts of the human experience. The office lights flicked on. My mother-in-law and my boss walked in from outside. “Sarah, I’ve asked your boss for a month of leave. You are going home to rest right now, and the company won’t let you back in.” My mother-in-law cracked her knuckles. “Don’t make me call some people to drag you back.” “Don’t worry, Sarah,” my boss assured me. “This project with Mr. Peterson is your hard work. When the contract is signed, the commission goes to you. The team has already reached a consensus.” I was too familiar with their expressions—pure sympathy. I wanted to explain that I really wasn’t sad, but after opening my mouth a few times, I finally nodded in agreement. I grabbed my car keys, ready to drive home, but my mother-in-law snatched them away. “How long has it been since you slept? Letting you drive—do you want to kill me?” My mother-in-law had kids early; she was only 55 now. Her hair wasn’t entirely white, and her well-maintained face had very few wrinkles. She was a doctor. Every day her hair was meticulously combed, and she rarely smiled. When I first met her, I was quite anxious. It was Liam who comforted me. “My mom is a great person, she just has a sharp tongue but a soft heart. Once you figure out her temper, you’ll be fine.” Then he immediately told his mom to be nicer to me, saying I wasn’t one of the interns in her department. She sat behind the steering wheel, her back straight, her glasses reflecting the streetlights. “Go home and get a good sleep. What needs to pass, will pass.” Her eyes were slightly red. The moment she looked down, she seemed utterly exhausted. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes had deepened at some point, revealing her age. “It’s all over. He passed without pain, that’s a good thing too.” I took a deep breath, staring at the safety charm hanging from the rearview mirror. 3 I slept for less than five hours. When I woke up, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by something heavy—sour, tight, and a little painful. It scared me enough to go to the hospital for a check-up. Sinus arrhythmia. Nothing major. The doctor told me to stop staying up late. I originally wanted to go to the company, but remembering I had a month-long vacation, I suddenly felt lost. For the past few years, Liam and I rarely rested. We often complained about not having enough alone time, our lives filled to the brim with work. The week before the accident, we worked like crazy to take our annual leave early and go somewhere for a couple of days. Liam still had a half-finished itinerary on his phone. Thinking of this, I pulled out my laptop and finished the itinerary. Even after finishing it, I still felt hyperactive. The events of the past few days looped in my mind like a carousel. I touched my chest, feeling like I must be sick. Otherwise, why didn’t I know how to be sad? I looked in the mirror, trying to squeeze out a tear, but only managed an ugly, forced smile. My mom called to comfort me, subtly hinting that I shouldn’t remain a widow forever. I laughed and retorted, “What era is this? Does a woman still have to stay chaste after her husband dies?” I tossed my instant noodles onto the coffee table, turned around, and bought a premium membership on a dating site. The steam from the beef noodle soup clouded my eyes. Suddenly, the usually mild noodles tasted incredibly spicy today. I chugged the noodle broth and coughed violently from the spice. 4 Liam and I fell in love naturally; I had never been on a blind date before. The first time felt quite novel. On TV, blind dates always happened in cafes, so I arranged to meet the guy at a cafe near my house. The man who showed up was middle-aged. Not bald, not ugly, and dressed appropriately. Compared to my pajamas and slippers, his suit and tie were excessively formal. I frowned, looking him up and down. He just rubbed me the wrong way. “My situation is all in the profile. I’m 35, divorced, no kids, an executive at a multinational company, making $300k a year…” So this is what a blind date is like. I rested my chin on my hand, looking amused. “Mr. Miller, you look decent enough. Are you interested in getting double eyelid surgery? I prefer men with monolids or hidden double eyelids. I don’t have many demands; once we’re together, just get the surgery done.” He froze. He looked me up and down. “Are you sick in the head?” I felt very offended. We just met, how could he just open his mouth and insult me? He also felt offended. He stood up and left without even paying for his coffee. Cheapskate. 5 Liam’s eyes were beautiful. When he looked down at people, it always gave the illusion of deep affection. I always thought he had monolids until we got together and I realized they were hidden double eyelids. When we were intimate, my favorite thing to do was touch his eyelids. I knew exactly where the scar on the corner of his eye was. This guy wasn’t cooperative; he wasn’t my type. Liam and I used to come to this cafe all the time. On our rare days off, we would sit at this window seat. He would look at his laptop, I would read a book. Occasionally, our eyes would meet, we’d share a knowing smile, and then go back to doing our own thing. This place was like our secret base, full of memories. “Hey, I brought a stranger here,” I muttered to myself, touching the glass. When paying, I complained to the barista, “The coffee today has no flavor. Make it stronger next time.” Lately, I couldn’t taste anything. This black coffee tasted just like water. If Liam were still here, he’d probably make a huge fuss and take me to the hospital, afraid I had caught some weird disease. I couldn’t help but smile. Once, I got a paper cut. He was so terrified he took me to the hospital to get it bandaged. The doctor complained, “There’s not even any blood. If you had waited a bit longer, it would have healed itself.” I teased him about it for days. He was still self-righteous about it: “What if you got tetanus? Wouldn’t that be worse?” Walking home, I went to the ground floor to buy cologne like usual, only to find the perfume shop had become a nail salon. The layout of the perfume shop was still there, and the air still carried a faint fragrance, but the owner was nowhere to be found. I asked the nail technicians for the previous owner’s contact info, but they didn’t know. The familiar scent was fading, and a sense of panic gripped my heart.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391505”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The girls in my senior class started a “Most Unattractive” poll. I won by a landslide. When the list circulated, my heart stopped at one name in particular: Madeline Sinclair. For six years, she had been my North Star, the girl I’d quietly adored from the shadows of the back row. Her handwriting was elegant, every loop and curve a deliberate slap in the face to the boy who had been stupid enough to confess his feelings to her just the day before. Years later, a financial news anchor interviewed Madeline, now a rising star in private equity. They asked if she had any regrets. Madeline looked directly into the camera, her expression poised but her eyes haunting. “In high school, I mistook a diamond for a piece of glass. I let someone else take him, and I’ve spent every night for seven years regretting it. Luckily, he’s single now. I’m hoping for a second chance.” The “someone else” she was referring to was currently sitting across from me at dinner. She elegantly set down her fork, pushed a perfectly sliced piece of Wagyu beef toward me, and murmured that she had to make a quick call. Out on the balcony overlooking the Seattle skyline, her voice turned to ice as she spoke into her phone. “Universal Holdings is in their Series C round, right? Call NorthStar, Solstice, and Vanguard. Tell them to pull every cent of their investment. Now.” 1 The poll was a cruel, low-tech game played in the back of a spiral notebook. When it reached my desk, the classroom went deafeningly silent. The first page was “Most Likely to Succeed/Hottest.” The second page was the “Wall of Shame.” The first category was a heated debate. The second was a consensus. My name, Jude Miller, was written over and over again. Out of twenty-one girls, seventeen had voted for me. I wasn’t delusional. I knew I wasn’t the guy people did double-takes for. I had a heavy brow, lips that were a bit too full for my face, a permanent tan from working outside, and skin that was currently losing a battle with teenage hormones. I dressed in thrift-store flannels and wore my hair in a utilitarian buzz cut. I had self-awareness. I never expected a movie-style romance, and I certainly didn’t expect Madeline Sinclair to love me back. But seeing her handwriting on that page felt like a physical blow to the stomach. We had known each other since middle school. I had loved her for every second of those six years. I just hadn’t expected her to humiliate me so publicly the day after I’d bared my soul. The confession had been an accident. I was helping my parents at our family’s small neighborhood grocery store in a rougher part of town. Madeline walked by, and I called out to her, handing her a bag of fruit. I told her her mother had already paid for it—a lie to help them out, since I knew her family was struggling after her father’s business empire collapsed. Under the dim streetlamp, her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. “Jude, I don’t need your charity.” She let go of the bag. I wasn’t quick enough to catch it. Apples and pears scattered across the cracked sidewalk, bruising in the dirt. Her pride was just like that fruit—fragile, easily damaged, and spread out for everyone to see. “I’m not pitying you, Maddie,” I blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. “I like you. I’ve always liked you. I just want to help.” I tried to force a casual shrug. “Every guy in school is stuffing your locker with Godiva and flowers. Is one bag of fruit really that much worse?” Three seconds passed. Maybe thirty. Time stretched until it snapped. “I’m sorry, Jude,” she said, her voice flat. “But I don’t feel that way about you.” She walked away without looking back. It was the answer I expected. I told myself it didn’t hurt. I knelt, picked up the bruised apples, wiped off the grit, and went back to work. My family lived in the part of the city where the buildings were grey and the people looked tired. Everyone here was sprinting just to stay in place. Madeline was different. She was a fallen princess, temporarily exiled to our neighborhood after her family’s mansion was foreclosed on. Before the move, no one at school knew my mother worked as a housekeeper for her family. Madeline had kept my secret, protecting my dignity. I thought my confession was a way of protecting hers—showing her that even at her lowest, she was still someone’s dream. But after that night, she didn’t just ignore me. She despised me. 2 The notebook sat on my desk, her sharp, aggressive script mocking me. I looked back at Madeline. She met my gaze with a chilling indifference. The girl who had been my sun was now a block of ice. The rest of the girls held their breath, waiting for the “ugly kid” to have a meltdown. If I showed them I was hurt, they’d won. I twirled my pen, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then, with a flourish, I wrote my own name at the bottom of the list. I turned around and flashed a grin at the room. “Hey, I’m voting for myself too. Make it eighteen.” If you want to stop a bully, you have to be the first one to laugh at the joke. That night, the girls couldn’t look me in the eye. A few of them even came up to me after class to apologize, claiming it was just a “stupid prank” and that “if your skin cleared up, you’d actually be kind of hot.” I laughed it off. Their opinions didn’t matter. Madeline’s, however, was a different story. I caught her in the alleyway behind the shops on the way home. “Maddie, wait.” She stopped but didn’t turn around. “I borrowed a copy of Jane Eyre from your library once,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “There’s a line in there I want to give back to you: ‘Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?’” I stepped closer. “Clearly, in your world, being unattractive means I don’t have the right to feel things. The funny thing is, none of you think you’re bad people. You cry at sad movies and tweet about social justice, but you’ll tear down a classmate for a lunch-break thrill. You never once wondered if it would hurt. You didn’t care.” I took a breath, feeling a weight lift. “I used to think you were different. I was wrong. You’re exactly like them.” I paused. “So, Madeline. I’m taking it back. My confession. My feelings. All of it.” She used to be the moon in my sky. Now, she was just another girl in a crowded room. Whether I was “ugly” or not, she wasn’t worth the devotion I’d given her. For the first time, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—regret? Surprise?—but I was already walking away. A week later, I moved my seat to the back of the room, right next to the school’s most notorious outlier: Cassidy Vance. She was the only girl who hadn’t voted. And she was the only person Madeline Sinclair was afraid of. 3 (Madeline’s Perspective) When Madeline wrote Jude’s name in that cruel notebook, she was picturing the way he had smiled at Cassidy in the hallway. She didn’t actually think Jude was ugly. She had seen him on the rare days his skin was clear and his hair was styled. He wasn’t a classic prom king, but he had a presence. Her mother, a woman with an eye for high-end aesthetics, had once remarked that Jude had “challenging, high-fashion bones”—the kind of face that would become striking once he grew into it. But at seventeen, most girls didn’t have that kind of vision. Jude was smart, resilient, and had a dry wit that could disarm anyone. Once, when a girl teased him about his acne while he was drinking a milkshake, he’d just grinned and said, “If you want a sip, just ask. You do my chores, and I’ll buy you your own.” Madeline admired him. But she didn’t love him—or so she told herself. When he confessed to her, she panicked. Her world was ending; her father was in legal trouble, and they were broke. She couldn’t handle the weight of his “goodness.” So she pushed him away. But when she got home to the small apartment her mother was trying to make feel like a home, and saw the groceries Jude’s family had quietly left for them, guilt ate her alive. She went out to find him, to apologize, to tell him she’d been harsh. Instead, she saw him at the grocery store with Cassidy. Everyone knew Cassidy was the daughter of a billionaire, a girl who played by her own rules and made teachers tremble. Only Madeline knew the full extent of the “Vance” name. Her father had spent years trying to get an audience with Cassidy’s father, and the Vances had been the ones to let his company sink without a second thought. Cassidy’s custom Ducati was idling at the curb. She tossed a book at Jude. He caught it like it was a holy relic, his face lighting up with a genuine, brilliant smile. Cassidy—the girl who wore five-thousand-dollar boots—took an apple from his stand, wiped it on her jacket, and took a huge bite. It was the same fruit Madeline had rejected. That night, lying in a bed that felt too small in a room that smelled like old dust, Madeline stared at the window across the alley. Was Jude ugly? She decided that when he smiled at Cassidy, he was. He used to only smile like that for her. And now, the moment her family lost everything, he had found someone else to look at. 4 Two days after moving next to Cassidy, I was already regretting it. She was… difficult. When I first sat down, she was face-down on her desk, sleeping. When she finally looked up, she gave me a lazy, feline stare. “Done chasing the ice queen?” “I wasn’t chasing her,” I mumbled. Cassidy snorted. She was the only one who knew about my sketchbook—the one she’d found in the library, filled with drawings of Madeline. She had tossed it back to me with a single comment: “Zero taste.” Valentine’s Day came a few days later. The popular kids had lockers overflowing with chocolates. Madeline’s desk was a mountain of Lindt and Godiva. Cassidy walked into class, dropped a box of insanely expensive imported dark chocolate on my desk, and said, “No one at my house wants these. Don’t let them go to waste.” I pushed them back. “I’m… I’m cutting back on sugar.” Her eyes flashed. She kicked her chair back, grabbed the box, threw it into the trash can, and walked out of the room before the bell even rang. A minute later, Madeline walked over. She placed a small, plain box on my desk. “These are sugar-free,” she said softly. The class erupted in whispers. My friend Ben slid a note onto my desk: Holy shit, Jude. The Prom Queen and the Rebel Leader in one day? How? I wasn’t delusional. I knew Cassidy and Madeline didn’t “like” me. They lived in a different universe. Plus, I was the “Most Unattractive” guy in school. Madeline was only doing this because her mother had noticed the tension between us. I’d overheard her mom telling her, “Jude is a good boy. Even if you don’t love him, don’t be cruel.” As for Cassidy? I had no idea. She was a chaos agent. Her behavior started getting weirder. She’d poke my arm during lectures. She’d doodle my name in the margins of her notebooks. After school, she’d race her motorcycle alongside my bus, waving like a lunatic. She was moody. One day she’d give me rare first-edition books and share her earbuds to listen to indie tracks I’d never heard of. The next, she’d block the hallway so I couldn’t leave or lock me in the equipment room during gym class just to “talk.” Finally, I snapped. “Cassidy, what is this? These head games… do you actually like me or something?” She laughed so hard her face turned red. “Like you? God, you’re such a kid. It’s pathetic. I’m just bored, Jude. You’re like a stray dog I’m trying to train. It’s funny.” But even though she messed with me, I couldn’t hate her. Because the night of the “Ugly Poll,” when that notebook was being passed around, Cassidy had been the one to snatch it. She didn’t just read it; she ripped it into confetti and stood up in front of the whole class. “You guys have the aesthetic taste of a dumpster fire,” she’d snarled at the girls. “Is this really how you spend your time? It’s embarrassing to breathe the same air as you.” Then she’d looked at me, her eyes fierce. “And for the record, he’s not ugly. You guys are just basic.” That night, she was my hero. A hero I never thought I’d have. 5 Cassidy was an enigma. She skipped class whenever she wanted, yet she somehow stayed at the top of the rankings. My first impression of her was that she was just a rich girl looking for a thrill. I’d seen her at a music festival over the summer, drenching people with a water gun and laughing like a maniac. She’d accidentally soaked me, then insisted I hop on her Ducati so the wind would dry my clothes. But then, I saw her on the sports channel. I was eating dinner when a broadcast of the National Shooting Championships came on. There she was. Cassidy Vance. Her arms were rock-steady as she lifted a competition air rifle. Her expression was focused, cold, and utterly professional. She was a different person. I held my breath as she squeezed the trigger, hitting the bullseye with terrifying precision. “Mrs. Miller?” Madeline was at our house for dinner again. She stood up abruptly. “My dad is coming home from the hospital tonight. We need help moving some furniture. Could Jude come over for a minute?” It was a lie. There was no furniture to move. As soon as I stepped into her apartment, she locked the door and backed me against the wall. “Jude, is this what it takes? She gets on TV and suddenly you’re obsessed?” her voice was trembling. “Do you know what people are saying? That you and Cassidy were ‘locked’ in the equipment room for an hour? Do you really think you belong in her world?” She stepped closer, her perfume—something expensive and floral—filling my lungs. “She doesn’t even have to take the SATs. She’s going to an Ivy League school on a legacy ticket or moving to Europe. You’re just a distraction to her. When she’s bored, she’ll leave. What happens to your reputation then?” My phone buzzed. A voice note from Cassidy. [Hey, Neighbor. Did you see me on TV? Was I a total badass or what? I’m outside your place. Come out. Let’s get tacos.] The walls in these old apartments were thin. We both heard it. My mom’s voice drifted from the hallway: “Oh, hi! Jude is just across the hall helping Madeline.” Silence followed. Then, the low rumble of a motorcycle engine. A text popped up: [Get out here. Now. Alleyway.] Madeline moved even closer, her face inches from mine. She looked desperate. “Jude,” she whispered, “don’t go. Please.” 6 When I reached the alley, Cassidy was leaning against her bike, her helmet tucked under her arm. Her eyes were like flint. “Get on.” She drove like a woman possessed. We hit eighty on the Pacific Coast Highway, the salt air stinging my eyes. She didn’t stop until we reached a secluded stretch of beach. She dragged me toward the water, her grip like iron. “Cassidy, what the hell is wrong with you?” I shouted, finally wrenching my arm away. She spun around, towering over me in her boots. “She kissed you, didn’t she?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391523”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel