Category: English

In the third year of Owen Maxwell’s affair, the long-dormant System reappeared, a forgotten voice promising that I could finally go home. For the final ten days, I stopped fighting. I stopped the tearing arguments, the desperate attempts to make him see reason. I let him spend the nights with his trophy girlfriend, Blakely, never once asking where he was. I let him give her the things I cherished. The day I left was my birthday. He burst in, Blakely clinging to his arm, and they knocked over my cake. He shoved me against the window, his fingers digging into my jaw. He demanded to know why I had hurt their child. “When did you become so vicious, Sierra?” I smiled, suddenly too tired to explain anything. “Yes,” I whispered. “I am that vicious.” “So, you and her? Go have your happy life.” Then, under his horrified gaze, I arched my back and vaulted out of the nineteenth-floor window. It was the only way to end everything in this world. 1 When the long-dormant System appeared and told me I could go home, I had just finished another explosive fight with Owen. He had walked in minutes earlier, fresh from an encounter with Blakely Cole, his kept woman. When he saw me lying in bed, he pressed himself against my back, his lips warm and tracing slow, possessive lines on my neck. I bolted upright and instinctively slapped him. “Owen. If you don’t find it disgusting, I certainly do.” He froze for a moment, then gave a short, bitter laugh, rubbing his cheek. Then, he yanked me off the bed, dragging me to the bathroom. He pinned me in front of the vanity mirror, one hand clamping my chin, his eyes toxic with contempt. “You’re disgusted with me? Sierra Reed, look at yourself! Do you see any trace of the woman I married?” I stared at the reflection. My hair was tangled, the strap of my silk slip was falling off my shoulder, and I looked like a distraught mess. The eyes that he used to call the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen were dull and lifeless. Fine lines had crept up around them, stealing the vibrant energy of my youth. In that instant, my mind flashed to Blakely’s face—her youthful, glowing skin, her sparkling eyes burning with naked ambition and a kind of triumphant provocation. “So, what, Owen? That’s your justification for cheating?” I scoffed, leaning against the cool tile, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. He slowly moved closer, his thumb gently wiping a tear that escaped my lash line. “I told you more than once. It’s just a fling. I’m just playing around. When I’m done with her, I’ll come home. Sierra, I’ve always loved you.” It was nauseating. Utterly, uncontrollably sickening. I screamed, a primal sound of pain, and grabbed a hand lotion bottle, smashing it into the mirror. It splintered into a thousand jagged pieces. “Get out! Just get out!” After he left, I stood barefoot on the icy marble floor, looking out the window at the enormous LED billboard across the street. Owen had paid to run a giant photo of Blakely, her face splashed across the skyline. I gave a bitter, dry laugh. This kind of bitter confrontation had become a nightly occurrence over the last year. It started with soul-crushing agony, but now, only an exhausted despair remained. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Eight years ago, I arrived in this world on a mission: to save a bitter, broken teenager named Owen Maxwell. His father had cheated, his family business had collapsed, his mother had committed suicide, and he was buried under massive debt. His eyes were utterly dead. I was the one who found him on a sunny morning and walked toward that desperate, miserable boy. I moved in with him, first in a basement apartment, then in a tiny shared room, slowly working to help him pay back every debt. He once asked me, confused, “Why are you so good to me?” I smiled, taking his hand. “Maybe it’s fate. Or maybe it’s the Universe’s instruction.” He lowered his head and murmured, “Then you must be the best gift the Universe has ever given me.” The day the mission was supposed to end, he seemed to sense I would leave. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he held me tightly from behind, staying awake all night. I caved. I wrapped my arms around him. “Owen, I’m not going home.” The System vanished entirely after that. For five full years, it was silent. And it was in those five years that Owen cheated. It was three years after our wedding. He found a younger, beautiful, ambitious model—Blakely Cole. 2 I still remember the day I found out. He came home drunk, hugging me, resting his head on my shoulder. Through the haze, he suddenly mumbled, “Sierra, why do you feel shorter?” I thought it was funny then. I’ve been five-foot-five my whole life; how could I suddenly be shorter? Later, I checked his phone. His Blakely was five-foot-ten, tall and strikingly sexy—the complete opposite of me. And the pet name he had slurred? Was it Sierra, or was it Blakely? … I don’t remember the specifics of that day. Only the thunderous roar in my head, the world tilting and falling into darkness. Owen knelt before me, crying and begging. He said it was a mistake, a momentary lapse, a temporary thrill. Three years of dating, three years of marriage, giving up my chance to go home—all for this ending. I was too stubborn and too hurt to let us go. So, we silently agreed to maintain the marriage. But a rotten love, a rose infested with beetles, is impossible to discard yet sickening to hold onto. His repeated betrayals led to an endless cycle of fights and resentment, until we were utterly exhausted and numb. It was like a dull blade sawing through the last remnants of our love, slowly, agonizingly. So, when the System finally woke from its long hibernation and spoke to me, I answered immediately. “System, I regret it. I want to go home.” 3 “Host, I did warn you that the events following the completion of your mission were unpredictable… including Owen’s change of heart.” “However, due to your past exceptional performance, I can grant you a special privilege and reopen the channel home. But you have only ten days remaining.” Tears streamed down my face. I nodded. “Understood. You have a final ten days left in this world. The departure countdown officially begins.” The System disappeared again. The house sank back into a deathly silence. I dried my eyes and began to pack. No, not pack. I needed to erase every trace of myself from this world. I gathered all my clothes and dropped the bags into the garbage chute. I took down the wedding photos from the wall, one by one, and pulled out the wedding ring he had given me. On our wedding day, Owen held that three-quarter carat cluster setting—a ring that cost him everything he had back then—and knelt, his voice thick with tears. “Sierra, you are the only light in my dark life. I will be faithful to no one but you, ever.” That small, sentimental diamond was the vessel of our most intense love, and I wore it for years. Until the day I saw Blakely on his arm, flashing a five-carat fancy pink diamond that glittered blindingly. After that, my ring stayed in the drawer. I used the diamond to violently smash the glass on our largest wedding portrait. It shattered instantly. Finally, I looked at the home, once saturated with eight years of our shared life, and felt a strange relief. I had been stuck in this sick, resentful marriage for five years. Now, finally leaving felt like the truest form of freedom. 4 The next morning, I went downstairs. The lights were dim. Owen was sitting on the sofa, smoking, his expression unreadable. “Where are the wedding pictures from the wall?” He spoke flatly, stopping me in the hall. His phone was buzzing constantly with notifications. I could see Blakely’s messages flashing across the screen—she was holding a dozen preserved, gold-dipped roses, her face radiant. [Such a tough night, baby, but this gift makes me feel so much better again ∼ ∼ ] He noticed me looking but didn’t bother to hide the screen. “I put them away,” I said, my voice empty, and walked past him to the kitchen for a glass of water. He extinguished his cigarette and smirked, rising to his feet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate Van Cleef & Arpels Alhambra pendant. He put it around my neck from behind. “Still mad?” “Here. A peace offering. It looks good on you, Sierra.” He leaned in close, his voice a low, toxic whisper in my ear. Like a snake tasting the air. “Sierra, you are the only Mrs. Maxwell. No one can ever replace you. Not even Blakely.” “Once I’m tired of her, we can try for a baby again. How does that sound?” I coldly pushed him away, then slowly smoothed down the lapel of his expensive shirt, brushing off the smear of another woman’s lipstick. I managed a brittle, scornful smile. Then, I turned and walked away. 5 Owen and I had a child once. I didn’t even know I was pregnant then. I was still obsessed with his fidelity, spending a whole night crying outside the hotel where he was staying with Blakely. In the morning, I watched him emerge, his arm around her, one hand resting possessively on her backside as he tucked her into the passenger seat. They started getting intimate in the car immediately. I gripped the steering wheel and screamed, a raw, wrenching sound, and slammed my car into theirs. That’s when I lost the baby. It was the fourth time I had found proof of his ongoing affair with her. Owen looked slightly confused now, but he didn’t detect my secret reference to the miscarriage. He merely nodded thoughtfully and left the house again. He didn’t come home for two days. I watched the news reports, the endless stream of gossip about him and Blakely. I was so calm, I didn’t send a single text or make a single call. Instead, I spent those two days liquidating everything: the real estate, the jewelry, the stocks I’d accumulated over the years. The System had confirmed I could convert the wealth I’d amassed in this world into currency in my home world. In the first two years of our marriage, Owen had rapidly built his fortune. It was the peak of our love, and he bought every property, putting the deeds squarely in my name. He used to say that I had pulled him out of the abyss and then suffered with him through the hard years, and he felt crippling guilt. Only giving me enough money could ease his conscience. In the end, he failed to give me enough love, but he gave me enough money—more than enough to live extravagantly for the rest of my life when I returned. With five days left on the countdown, I drove out to the suburbs. There was one last property deed I hadn’t sold yet: the lakeside villa. It was his anniversary gift to me after we got married. We spent all our holidays there when we were happy. It was also where I got pregnant with the child we lost. The villa held profound significance for us. I was going there now to retrieve the deed and sell it to a broker. I drove into the gated community. I hadn’t been back in two years, not since Owen’s cheating began. But everything looked pristine. The small courtyard outside the villa was filled with new rose bushes. Puzzled, I got out of the car and put my key in the lock. Just then, someone opened the door from the inside. “What’s wrong, baby? Just fed you and you’re hungry again?” It was Blakely. 6 She stood there in a long, red silk negligee, leaning lazily against the doorframe, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. But quickly, her moist, dark gaze raked over me, settling on a look of utter condescension and triumph. I understood everything in an instant. Owen had moved her in here. “This is my house. I’m giving you five minutes to get dressed and get out.” I pulled the door open, trying to step inside. Blakely blocked the entrance, meeting my eyes without a trace of fear. “But the truth is, Mrs. Maxwell, Owen gave me this house.” “Gave? When was the deed transferred? The owner of record would certainly know.” “You’re borrowing it for a few days. You’re squatting. Don’t confuse yourself with the mistress of the house.” Blakely’s face cycled from white to red. I didn’t waste any more breath on her and called Owen immediately. He needed to clean up his own toxic mess. On the other end of the line, Owen chuckled dismissively. “Sierra, it’s just a house. What’s the big deal if the girl stays there for a few days? Don’t go over there and start trouble, alright? It’s a pain in the ass to calm her down when she cries. Also…” I didn’t hear what else Owen said because Blakely suddenly grabbed my wrist, escalating her taunt. “Ms. Reed, I hear you and Mr. Maxwell dated for three years and got the ring. Well, I’ve been with him for three years, too. Do you think I’ll be the next Mrs. Maxwell this year?” She then patted her stomach lightly. “Oh, and I might have one more card to play: the baby in here.” On the phone, I heard the faint clicking of cards as Owen played poker. He spoke casually, distracted. “A vintage Cartier diamond/sapphire piece went up for auction the other day. I bought it for you. It’ll arrive a day or two before your birthday.” “I told you, Blakely is just a distraction, a pretty little bird to keep me amused. Look, if you’re really that upset, I’ll tell her to move out.” He was still rambling, placating me with careless lies. I let out a cold, shaky laugh. “Owen, did you hear that? Your little bird has a baby bird! Congratulations. You’re going to be a father. You’re finally getting what you’ve always wanted.” On the other end, Owen’s voice went instantly quiet. There was silence for a long moment. 7 Owen found me when I was leaving the memorial park. Now, only three days remained until my departure. Blakely’s words had brought the memory of my child rushing back. I had spent the last two days visiting my baby’s tiny plot, leaving behind my favorite candies. I hadn’t returned home, and I hadn’t answered Owen’s calls. It was like I had simply vanished. When Owen finally found me, he lunged forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me into his black SUV without a word. Inside the car, he gripped the steering wheel, looking deeply into my eyes. His voice was husky. “I’ll take care of Blakely. I’ll handle everything.” Owen once told me, “A child should only be born to the person you love most. I’ll only have children with you, Sierra.” Now, he had conceived a child with Blakely, yet he was sitting here, playing the role of the devoted husband. I found it utterly ridiculous. I folded my arms and stared out the window. “Why should I care? It’s not my baby, after all.” His gaze sharpened suddenly, but he laughed—a strange, humorless sound. He roughly grabbed my wrist, forcing me to turn and face him. “Sierra Reed, don’t you pretend you don’t care at all?” His eyes were bloodshot, fixated on me, as if afraid to miss the slightest change in my expression. “And where the hell have you been for the last two days? Why aren’t you answering your phone?” My face remained blank. I simply looked at him. I told him, my voice almost a whisper, “Owen. I’m going home.” The air in the car thickened into a suffocating silence. After a long pause, he sneered, as if I’d told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. His tone was arrogant. “Home?” “Where are you going to go? You have no family, no parents here, Sierra.” “Other than me, who do you have left in this world?!” 8 I looked at him calmly, a sad self-awareness settling in my eyes. So, this was the end of love: cruel mockery and verbal abuse. I took a deep breath, realizing there was nothing left to say to him, and stepped out of the car. Owen slammed his fist against the steering wheel and violently sped away. We parted ways in bitter failure, again. For the final three days, his behavior grew more egregious. He sometimes brought Blakely home to spend the night, their movements and sounds filling the house. I simply closed my bedroom door and didn’t ask a single question. The last day before my departure was my birthday. Owen left early in the morning without so much as a glance in my direction. I spent the entire day alone, burning every photograph of us together. Then, I waited quietly for midnight. That evening, I bought myself a small cake and stuck in the candles. I turned off the lights, closed my eyes, clasped my hands, and made a wish. I wished for a smooth return home, and I wished that Owen Maxwell and I would never cross paths again. But before I could blow out the candles, the front door rattled open. Owen strode in, his face dark with fury. Clinging to his arm was Blakely, her face tear-streaked and pitiful. Before I could process the shock, she slapped me across the cheek. “Mrs. Maxwell, I know you hate me. But my baby is innocent. What gives you the right to hurt him?!” I touched my stinging cheek, a detached, cynical laugh rising in my throat. Honestly, I had no idea what she was talking about. I hadn’t left the house all day. But Blakely’s audacity was a shield given to her by Owen. Owen stood beside her, a cigar clamped between his fingers, and sneered. “Sierra, was that really necessary? Because you couldn’t have a child, you paid someone to run over hers?” His words were sharp as glass, slicing open the old, festering wound of my miscarriage. But I didn’t have time for this drama. The System was reminding me that only a few minutes remained before my departure. I walked straight toward them, past Owen, and slapped Blakely. That slap was a return for her audacity and a reward for her three years as his mistress. If I didn’t hit her back today, I never would. Blakely was stunned. When she recovered, she collapsed into Owen’s arms, sobbing hysterically. He rubbed his temples, then slowly pulled the tablecloth off the dining table. CRASH! The sharp, piercing sound of shattering glass and ceramic echoed through the vast house. The cake and the dishes, like my five years of marriage, were smashed across the floor. He walked to me, pressed me against the window frame, and clamped his hand tightly around my chin. His high, proud brow was furrowed, and his eyes were utterly cold and unfeeling. “I told you I would handle this. Why did you have to provoke her?” “Sierra Reed, when did your tactics become so cheap, so vicious?” “Or is this just another pathetic performance to try and force me to come home?” Behind me, the window was wide open. The night air from the nineteenth floor rushed in around me. At that moment, the midnight clock chimed. The System’s voice was prompt. “Home Channel is now open. Host will return to the original world upon successfully completing the death requirement in the current world.” I smiled softly, pushing his hand away. My voice was gentle. “Yes, Owen. I am that vicious.” Owen frowned, confused. I pointed at Blakely and smiled at him. “So, I’m stepping aside. You and your Blakely—go have a wonderful life together.” Then, as Owen Maxwell watched, I turned, arched my back, and fell backward out of the nineteenth-floor window.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387724”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Everyone in New York’s elite circle knew that Julian Ford would lie about anything to protect his “godsister,” Lily. At a family gathering, he publicly tore my ultrasound report to shreds. “I have congenital asthenospermia. If you want to trap me, Sarah, you’ll need a better lie than a pregnancy.” Under the mocking gazes of the crowd, he tenderly wiped a tear from Lily’s eye. In that moment, I realized that for the unloved, even pregnancy is a sin. I touched my slightly swollen belly and turned to jump off the luxury yacht. “Julian, since you can’t have children, consider this one a gift from a ghost.” Five years later, a miniature version of him outbid him for a plot of land he coveted at an auction. Red-eyed, Julian demanded a DNA test. The child just smiled. “Uncle, you’re sick. You couldn’t produce a seed as smart as me.” 1 Silence fell over the auction hall. That childish voice was like a slap across everyone’s face. Below the stage, Julian’s handsome face twisted. The bidding paddle in his hand crunched into a ball of useless plastic. He stared deathly at the child in the front row, who was swinging his short legs. A face identical to his own had become the biggest irony in the room. Julian moved. He strode over the seats, radiating murderous intent. Security didn’t dare stop him; guests didn’t dare breathe. He reached out, fingers hooked like claws, aiming straight for the child’s collar. The boy didn’t dodge. He just looked up, his eyes—so like mine—filled with cold indifference. Just as Julian’s hand was about to touch the child, a black shadow struck from the side. A hand wearing a black tactical glove clamped onto Julian’s wrist. I used my full strength. Veins popped on the back of Julian’s hand, bones cracking audibly. He tried to shake me off in pain, but I didn’t budge. He followed the arm up, his gaze colliding with my icy pupils. Julian’s pupils constricted violently. He stared at my face as if seeing a ghost, squeezing two words through his teeth: “Sarah… Vance?” Instantly, the guests exploded. “Sarah Vance? Julian’s ex-wife who jumped into the ocean five years ago?” “Didn’t they say no body was found? How is she alive?” “I heard she was pregnant with a bastard and jumped out of shame…” The whispers buzzed like flies. I threw his hand off expressionlessly, with enough force to make him stumble back half a step. Bending down, I straightened the child’s bowtie, then stood up. I pulled off the glove, revealing a palm roughened by years of seawater. I looked at Julian coldly. “Mr. Ford, you’re mistaken. I’m this child’s father, not your ex-wife.” Behind Julian, Lily covered her mouth and screamed. “Ghost! Julian, she’s a ghost!” She shrank behind Julian in terror, trembling. Julian instinctively shielded her in his arms, a habit carved into his bones. After comforting Lily, he turned back to me, the shock in his eyes replaced by utter disgust. Even after five years, his gaze could still sting. Julian looked me up and down, his eyes scanning my cargo pants and combat boots before landing on the child. He sneered. “Didn’t die but hid for five years? Couldn’t make it out there? Came back with a bastard to beg for money?” His look was like watching a dog wag its tail. “Sarah, does this outfit even cost fifty bucks? Couldn’t your lover afford to keep you?” A few snickers rippled through the crowd. I ignored him. I took the Rubik’s cube from the child and placed it on the table. Then, I raised my bidding paddle. My voice rang clear through the hall. “Fifty million.” The crowd gasped. That was the land Julian was determined to get. The starting bid was only twenty million. The mockery froze on Julian’s face. The auctioneer slammed the hammer down in excitement. A staff member ran over with the card machine. I rolled up my sleeve, revealing a jagged scar on my wrist. That was the mark left by deep-sea decompression sickness, proof of my five years risking my life. I swiped the card and signed, movements fluid. “Also,” I shoved the Black Card back into my pocket and looked straight at Julian, “Mr. Ford, if you’re not using your eyes, donate them. Get out of my way.” I took the child’s hand and started to walk. Julian’s face was livid. He signaled his bodyguards. The heavy doors slammed shut. A dozen men in black blocked the exit. Julian pushed Lily aside and advanced on me step by step, gritting his teeth. “Trying to leave? Explain yourself. Whose bastard is this?” He pointed at the child, eyes full of violence. “Here to scam me? I don’t mind verifying it right here and making you disappear again.” 2 In the VIP lounge behind the auction hall. A dozen burly men surrounded the child and me tightly. Julian sat on the sofa, legs crossed in arrogance, spinning a pinky ring, eyes dark. “Speak, Sarah.” A file slammed onto the coffee table. It was the private investigator’s report from five years ago. “Which man did you climb on to get here? Or did you sell your body for that fifty million?” Every word was a knife to the heart. Lily held a cup of hot tea, eyes red and pitiful. “Sister, don’t fight with Julian. Just tell us who the father is, and the Ford family will give you some money.” Her gaze swept over Julian’s lower half, voice lowered but loud enough for everyone to hear: “After all, everyone knows about Julian’s diagnosis of asthenospermia.” “Insisting the child is his… isn’t that just rubbing salt in his wound?” That knife twist was vicious. My son suddenly laughed. The laughter was crisp but cold, unlike a child. He unwrapped a piece of gum, chewed twice, and looked at Lily. “Auntie, your perfume is really strong. It smells like the bug spray in my bathroom.” Lily’s face stiffened, tears threatening to fall. Julian stood up abruptly, raising his hand to slap the child! “Uneducated brat! Who are you to talk to her like that?” The slap came with the wind, merciless. I grabbed the phone from the table and smashed it into the back of his hand. Bang! The screen shattered, and Julian’s hand instantly swelled red. He cried out in pain, clutching his hand and retreating, glaring at me. “Sarah! You dare hit me for this bastard?” I pulled the child behind me and looked at him coldly. “Julian, watch your mouth. Don’t you know if this child is a bastard?” Julian laughed in extreme anger, eyes full of madness. “Good! Very good!” He roared at the bodyguards. “Drag this little brat for a DNA test!” “I want the results now! I want all of New York to see whose mongrel you were carrying back then!” He pointed at my nose, voice twisted. “I will prove my innocence! Prove I never touched a slut like you!” To humiliate me, he didn’t hesitate to emphasize his own “impotence” in public. His logic was twisted to the extreme. The bodyguards moved to grab the child. My son didn’t dodge. He plucked a hair from his head and held it out. I stopped the bodyguard, took the hair from the child, and walked up to Julian. I placed the hair on the coffee table, looking at him like he was trash. “Test it.” My voice was terrifyingly calm. “Julian, but you can’t afford the consequences.” Just as Julian was about to explode, Lily suddenly clutched her chest and moaned. “Julian… I don’t feel well. My heart hurts.” Her face went pale instantly, and she slumped. Julian’s anger vanished, replaced by panic. He shoved me aside and rushed to pick up Lily. “Lily! Where’s the medicine? Get the car! Hurry!” He carried Lily toward the door, not even glancing at me as he passed. He only left a cold command: “Watch this crazy woman and that bastard! No one leaves until the results are out!” Half the people rushed out. I stood there, watching his frantic back. It was like this five years ago. Whenever Lily frowned, everything else had to wait. Even if I was bleeding out in the delivery room. I took a crumpled old newspaper clipping from my bag. It was a photo of Julian tearing up my ultrasound report in the hospital. I crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the trash. Then, I dialed an encrypted number. “Hello.” “You can bring that thing up now.” 3 Three days later, at the marina. The sea breeze was biting. Julian’s car was parked by the pier. He stood in the wind, holding the unopened paternity test result. Lily, wrapped in his cashmere coat, huddled beside him, cheeks rosy, looking anything but sick. I walked over holding the child’s hand. Bodyguards blocked our path. Julian waved a manila envelope, eyes cold. “Want this?” He pointed to the deep, dark water below. “Lily accidentally dropped the family heirloom ring. It’s a Ford heirloom, it can’t be lost.” He stared at me, a cruel smile on his lips. “Sarah, I heard you do deep-sea salvage abroad?” “Since you’re so capable, fetch it for Lily.” Naked humiliation. The late autumn seawater was freezing, full of undercurrents. Lily pretended to pull at Julian. “Julian, forget it.” “If the ring is lost, it’s lost. The water is too cold. Sister is weak, don’t make her go.” Her mouth said no, but her eyes were full of provocation and anticipation. Julian said coldly, “That was your engagement ring. It must be found.” “Isn’t she a professional? If she can’t handle this small thing, how can she talk about fifty million?” Ignoring their act, I bent down and handed the child to my assistant. I took off my coat, revealing the black wetsuit underneath. “Conditions.” I checked the oxygen tank and spoke coldly. “I bring it up, the DNA test is destroyed on the spot, and the Ford family and I are done. This child has nothing to do with you.” Julian paused, then sneered. “So eager to destroy it? Guess you know the results are shameful. Fine, I agree.” In his eyes, I was just guilty. I put on my goggles, bit the regulator, and jumped. Splash! I vanished into the gray-black water. The monitor screen on the shore lit up, showing the live feed from my suit camera. My heart rate data was a flat line. Julian stared at the screen, brow furrowed. Water temperature 46°F. My calmness annoyed him. Underwater visibility was poor. Suddenly, a strong current hit me. Someone had tampered with the environment. The air hose jerked violently, cutting off the flow to my regulator. Suffocation hit instantly. I looked up and vaguely saw the operator under the boat shaking the line violently. Lily had bribed someone. She wanted me dead. On the monitor, my heart rate still didn’t spike. I didn’t call for help or struggle. Calmly, I reached behind my back, cut the main air line, and opened the backup micro-tank. This little trick wasn’t enough. Using the current, I flipped out of the turbulent flow and dove straight into the seabed silt. Amidst scrap metal and nets, a faint glint. I reached out, fingers clawing, and grabbed the ring. Movement sharp and vicious. Three minutes later, I broke the surface. I climbed onto the dock, soaked, face pale, but eyes sharp as knives. Julian looked at me and subconsciously took a step back. I strode up to Lily. In front of Julian, I held up the so-called “heirloom” ring. I squeezed. Crunch! The gem-encrusted ring crushed into an oval in my fingers. I tossed it casually. It rolled to the toe of Lily’s couture shoes. “Fake.” I took off the regulator and sneered. “Just like you. Gold-plated copper.” A piece of the plating chipped off, revealing cheap brass underneath. Lily’s face went white instantly. She looked at Julian in panic. Julian stared at the ring on the ground in shock, then at my water-streaked face, forgetting to react. Julian bent down and picked up the deformed ring. The mottled brass rust stung his eyes. Face livid, he snapped his head toward Lily. The question stuck in his throat. The giant LED billboard on the pier suddenly lit up. 4 Someone in the crowd gasped. “That’s…” It wasn’t an ad. It was a live feed from a DNA testing center. On the high platform, my child held a tablet, fingers flying. He had hacked the pier’s system. On screen was the director of the testing center, a mole I planted five years ago. He faced the camera, expression serious, opening a sealed bag. “DNA comparison result: Sample A, Julian Ford, and Sample B, Paternity Index 99.9999%.” The director’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers across the pier. “Conclusion: Biological father-son relationship supported.” Dead silence. Then, the murmurs exploded, louder than the waves. Julian stared deathly at the screen, the copper ring cutting into his palm until it bled. “Impossible!” He roared, eyes red. “I have asthenospermia! I’m infertile! Sarah, you dare fake this!” He was still clinging to that laughable lie. I unzipped my wet suit and walked toward him step by step. I pulled a voice recorder from a waterproof bag and pressed play. After a crackle of static, Lily’s sobbing voice emerged. “Julian, please. If your mom finds out I had a hysterectomy after the abortion, she’ll kick me out. Help me.” “As long as you admit it’s your problem, she won’t blame me.” “You don’t love Sarah anyway. What’s wrong with letting her take the blame?” Every word was a slap across Julian’s face. His face turned gray, his whole body shaking. The surrounding looks turned from awe to contempt. Even his bodyguards looked away. Lily screamed and lunged. “Fake! It’s all AI synthesized!” She tried to grab the recorder. The child on the platform spoke coldly. “Audio analysis chart sent to the media. Real or fake, they’ll know.” He paused, then pressed another key. The screen changed to a foreign birth certificate. “Auntie Lily, you gave birth to a child named David in California five years ago. You said you couldn’t have kids. Whose is this?” Lily trembled and collapsed to the ground. Julian looked at her, his eyes filled only with the hatred of being played. “You lied to me?” His voice shook. “You’ve been lying to me the whole time?” “I destroyed Sarah, destroyed my home for you! And you already had a kid?!” I walked up to him and straightened his wind-blown collar. My cold fingertips touched his skin. He shivered. “Mr. Ford,” I whispered in his ear, voice icy. “Your illness is fake.” “The sister you treasured for five years put a green hat on you overseas long ago.” “Does it fit well?” Julian froze, unable to say a word. On the ground, Lily suddenly let out a piercing scream. She scrambled up, charging like a madwoman toward the child on the platform. “It’s all you! You little bastard!” She pushed the child toward the edge of the high platform. “Careful!” I screamed, heart tearing. The child tipped over, falling toward the black water. Julian moved. He was closest. As he reached out, Lily slipped and fell too. On one side, his son. On the other, Lily. In that split second, Julian made an instinctive choice. He grabbed Lily’s hand.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387741”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For my younger boyfriend’s birthday, I booked out the most luxurious hotel in the city to celebrate. But when they wheeled out the cake, the spot where “Happy Birthday” should have been was instead iced with the words, “Marry Me.” I thought it was his surprise proposal to me. I never imagined that the moment he saw it, he would violently flip the cake over. “Celeste, didn’t I promise I’d marry you when you turn forty? What is this? You bring out a cake like this in front of all my friends—are you trying to force my hand?” Seeing the fury twisting his features, a sudden sense of calm washed over me. I was finally free. If he was so against marrying me, then I supposed I could just find someone else. 1 The cake sailed through the air and splattered directly across my face. A wave of laughter erupted from the surrounding tables. Jeff’s little protégée, Amanda, was draped over his arm, laughing so hard she could barely stand. “Oh, ma’am, you look just like a sad, wet puppy.” I pulled a napkin from the dispenser and began wiping the cream from my cheeks. “Amanda, isn’t it? If I remember correctly, I’m only twelve years older than you. Calling me ‘ma’am’ seems a little rude, don’t you think?” Amanda was still giggling. “Sorry, Celeste. I guess I just assumed you were at least twenty years older.” “You should really get your eyes checked,” I said, my voice smooth as glass. “Because from where I’m standing, I actually look younger than you. All that time in the lab must be taking its toll. Stress does age a person.” Amanda’s smile tightened, though she tried to keep it in place. “Well, I guess that’s the difference. My face is all-natural. Not like yours, a masterpiece of science and scalpels.” I laughed, a light, airy sound. “I’m just grateful that at my age, I have the financial means to maintain my appearance. Not everyone will have that luxury when they get to be my age. You, for example.” That struck a nerve. “What’s that supposed to mean? Jeff, did you hear what she said to me?” The sliver of guilt Jeff might have felt for smashing a cake in my face vanished, replaced by irritation. He slammed his hand on the table. “Celeste, we’re talking about you trying to pressure me into marriage! Why are you attacking Amanda? She made a simple mistake with how she addressed you. Do you have to be so vicious?” “Don’t try to change the subject by dragging her into this,” he continued, his voice rising. “We need to deal with this stunt you pulled tonight!” “I didn’t pressure you! I didn’t change the words on the cake!” “You ordered the cake. You arranged for the hotel staff to bring it out. Who else could it have been?” “Then check the security cameras!” I shot back. “This hotel has cameras covering every public space. I guarantee we can find who did it.” At the mention of cameras, Amanda’s bravado faltered. “Jeff,” she mumbled, “it was me. I changed the message on the cake.” Jeff stared at her, shocked. “What? Amanda, why would you do that?” “I just… you and Celeste have been together for seven years. I thought I could give you a little push on your birthday,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears. “I had no idea you didn’t want to marry her at all. I’m so sorry, Jeff. I messed up.” Her performance was flawless. Jeff’s anger melted away, replaced by pure, unadulterated sympathy. “It’s not your fault,” he said softly, all his attention on his wronged little protégée. “You don’t know the whole situation.” He was so busy comforting her, he didn’t even glance at his girlfriend, standing there humiliated and covered in frosting. In that moment, I felt like a complete and utter fool. I turned without another word and walked out. 2 By the time I got home, there wasn’t a single call or text from Jeff. He probably hadn’t even noticed I was gone. Or if he had, he couldn’t be bothered. Jeff and I had been together for seven years. I was twenty-eight when I met him. He was eighteen, kneeling on the cold floor of a hospital, begging the doctors to save his dying father. The astronomical medical bills had crushed the boy who had just become a man. I was walking by, and he grabbed the hem of my coat. “Ma’am, please, help me,” he’d begged, his eyes full of desperation. “If you can lend me the money for my father’s surgery, I’ll do anything for you. I’ll be your slave.” Maybe it was his beautiful, desperate face. On a whim, I paid the thirty thousand dollars for his father’s medical fees. And just like that, he became my younger boyfriend. When we first started dating, he would hold me tight and whisper, “Celeste, I love you so much. I wish I could marry you right now, but I’m not even legal yet.” When he turned twenty-two, he said, “I haven’t graduated yet, and I don’t have a job lined up. Wait until I’m twenty-five and my career is stable. I swear I’ll marry you then.” Now he was twenty-five, with a stable career. And he said, “This is a critical time for my career. Just give me five more years. When you turn forty, I promise, I will marry you.” How many five years does a person get in a lifetime? A storm broke outside, the rain coming down so hard it blurred the world into a grey watercolor. My phone rang. It was Jeff. “Hey, where are you? It’s pouring out here. Can you come pick me up?” In our seven years together, it often felt like our roles were reversed. I shouldered all the responsibilities typically expected of a man, while he lived comfortably as my pampered partner. I braved the storm and drove to the hotel. When Jeff saw my car, he waved for me to get out. “I’ll drive,” he said. “I have to drop Amanda off first, and you don’t know the way to her place.” He slid into the driver’s seat. Before I could even get in, Amanda had slipped into the passenger seat beside him. “Celeste,” Jeff said, offering a weak smile, “how about I take Amanda home and then come back for you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He hit the gas, and the car sped away, leaving me standing alone in the hotel driveway, stunned into silence. An hour passed. Then another. No sign of Jeff. I finally broke down and called him. “How much longer until you come back for me?” “Amanda’s stomach is hurting really bad, so I took her to the hospital,” he said, his voice rushed. “She’s on an IV drip right now, and I can’t leave her. Just grab a cab and go home.” “How am I supposed to find a cab in this downpour?” “Then just buy an umbrella from a convenience store and walk. It’s not that far. Look, I have to go, Amanda’s in pain again.” He hung up. I stood there, watching the relentless rain, and felt a wave of bitter laughter bubble up inside me. It was at least an hour’s walk home, even on a clear day. By the time I stumbled through my front door, I was soaked to the bone. I rushed into a hot shower, but it was too late. A fever was already setting in. I called Jeff. “I’m running a fever. Can you pick up some fever reducers on your way back?” He just grunted an “uh-huh” and hung up. I collapsed into bed, drifting in and out of a hazy sleep. When I finally forced my eyes open, the clock read 3:00 AM. Jeff still wasn’t home. I tried his phone. It went straight to voicemail. 3 A dry, self-mocking laugh escaped my lips. I dragged myself out of bed and poured a glass of hot water. Back in the bedroom, I cranked up the heat, burrowed under two heavy comforters, and finally broke into a sweat. The shivering subsided. At nine in the morning, Jeff finally walked in. “God, I’m exhausted,” he mumbled, “I’m gonna crash for a bit.” He fell onto the bed and was asleep in seconds, not even sparing me a glance. “Where’s the medicine I asked you to bring?” Jeff stirred, blinking. “Oh, damn. Babe, I’m sorry. I was so exhausted from taking care of Amanda all night, I completely forgot. But you look fine today. I guess you’re feeling better, right?” He rolled over, and soon, the sound of his snoring filled the room. I looked at my calendar. There was a lucky day early next month. Perfect for a wedding. As dusk settled, Jeff finally woke up. “Celeste, you didn’t make dinner? I’m starving.” I was on the couch, watching TV, and didn’t respond. He finally seemed to realize I was angry and trotted over, nuzzling against me like a puppy. “Babe, come on. Yesterday was an emergency. Don’t be mad at me, okay?” He rubbed his head against my shoulder. “I’m so hungry. I could really go for some of your homemade pasta.” He only ever called me ‘babe’ when he’d done something wrong and wanted forgiveness. I pushed his head away, my eyes still fixed on the screen. “If you’re hungry, order takeout. I’m not obligated to cook for you.” Jeff sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll just go out and eat.” His patience for even pretending to soothe me had dwindled to about three minutes. After that, we lived like strangers, two roommates who just happened to share a bed. Two weeks later, Jeff came home with a crowd of his friends. “Celeste! Surprise! Today is our seven-year anniversary! I invited everyone over to celebrate with us!” I glanced at the people behind him. They were all his friends. I barely knew any of them. And of course, Amanda was there. “Celeste,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “I heard you’ve been giving Jeff the silent treatment ever since his birthday. I wanted to come today and clear the air. Jeff was just taking care of me that night because I had a sudden stomach flu. Nothing happened between us. He just sat by my bed all night.” I let out a soft chuckle. “You don’t have to protest so much. It only makes you sound more guilty.” Jeff’s face immediately darkened. “Celeste, stop picking on Amanda. You know you’re the only woman for me.” They had brought supplies for a barbecue and soon the apartment was filled with smoke and the smell of grilled meat. After they had eaten and drunk their fill, someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. Jeff lost the first round. Amanda’s eyes lit up. “Truth or Dare?” “Truth,” he said. “Okay, I’m gonna ask,” she chirped, her eyes darting mischievously towards me. “Jeff, you and Celeste have a ten-year age gap. Have you ever, even once, thought she was… old?” She leaned in, adding playfully, “You have to tell the truth! I’ll be mad if you don’t!” Jeff hesitated for a beat too long before finally sighing. “Yes.” The room exploded with laughter. Amanda howled, slapping his arm. “Wow, Jeff, you’re so honest! No wonder you called her an old crow! I thought you were just saying it because you were angry, but you really think she’s old!” My face flushed hot, as if I’d been slapped. My heart hammered against my ribs. “You called me an old crow?” 4 Amanda immediately covered her mouth with her hands. “Oops. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” Jeff took a deep breath. “Celeste, that was just something I said in the heat of an argument.” Amanda jumped in to defend him. “Exactly! You can’t take things people say when they’re angry seriously.” She grinned. “Hey, maybe we should all call her an old crow a few times. You know, to desensitize her.” And then, led by her, they all started chanting, like a cruel joke. “Old crow! Old crow! Old crow!” Amanda’s voice was the loudest. Jeff just sat there, a weak smile on his face, making no move to stop them. In that instant, I felt like I had thrown seven years of my life away on a stray dog. I stood up, walked back to the bedroom in silence, and packed my bags. When I emerged, dragging my suitcase behind me, Jeff was still laughing with his friends. Amanda noticed me first. “Where are you going, Celeste? You’re not actually mad about a little joke, are you?” I looked at Jeff. He glanced over his shoulder at me, then turned back to his friends. “Just ignore her,” he said dismissively. “She’s too old to take a joke.” That was it. That was the final, definitive end to seven years of my life. The moment I was in the car, I dialed the number of my childhood friend, Kevin. “I’ve made my decision,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll accept your family’s marriage proposal. Set the date for the first of next month. If you have no objections, start planning the wedding.” There was a three-second pause on the other end. “Are you sure you want to marry me?” “If you don’t want to, I won’t force you.” “I do! I absolutely do!” he said, his voice suddenly full of energy. “Then it’s settled. No turning back!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387757”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I got home late from work, and my wife told me she was in love with someone else. “I just want to divorce him and be with him.” “Even if it means walking away with nothing.” My eyes fell to the divorce papers already laid out on the table. Suddenly, a wave of relief washed over me. “Fine,” I said. “I agree.” It’s human nature to be drawn to the new and tired of the old. I’m no different. 1 Tina stared at me, dumbfounded. “You… you’re just agreeing?” A cold laugh escaped my lips, thick with sarcasm. “What else am I supposed to do?” “Oh, right. I’m supposed to fly into a rage and demand to know who he is, aren’t I?” “I should probably break down, beg you not to leave, plead with you not to do this.” “You’re willing to walk away with nothing just to divorce me, but you also want me to beg you to stay.” “So which is it? Do you want a divorce or not? Is your left brain at war with your right?” Tina was speechless. I ignored her, picking up the papers and scanning them carefully. Satisfied, I reached for my briefcase, which was still on the floor where I’d dropped it when Tina had anxiously pulled me inside. I’d just come home from a long day of overtime to find this waiting for me instead of a hot meal. She hadn’t even asked why I was so late. She’d just launched straight into the divorce. I was done with this cold, empty life. I pulled a fountain pen from my bag and signed my name decisively on both copies. Capping the pen, I stared at its faded, worn barrel. It was a gift for our first anniversary. Tina had used half a month’s salary from her part-time job to buy it for me. After nearly twenty years, it was battered and old. It was time for a new one. I tossed the pen into the trash can. “We can get the paperwork filed tomorrow morning.” Then I walked out of the room without looking back. 2 I went to my son Toby’s room. He was facing away from me, buried under his comforter. I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Don’t pretend to be asleep. I know you saw everything.” After a long moment, he finally turned over and sat up, his eyes red-rimmed. “Dad,” he whispered, “is Mom leaving us?” I sighed inwardly. At nearly forty, I’d seen my share of life and loss, so I could process a separation. But Toby was only twelve. In his world, his parents were his entire sky. When Tina and I separated, no matter who he ended up with, half of that sky was going to collapse. But he was a part of this family. He had a right to know about the changes happening to it. I told him the truth. “Yes. Mom asked for a divorce, and I agreed.” “But that just means we won’t be husband and wife anymore. We will always, always be your mom and dad who love you more than anything.” Toby looked at me, and tears streamed down his face like a broken dam. “Dad… I’m sorry…” He covered his face with his hands, tears seeping through his fingers. I was confused. Shouldn’t I be the one apologizing? I gently pulled his hands away and wiped his tears. “What is it? Why are you sorry?” Toby’s shoulders shook with sobs. “The other day… when Mom picked me up from school, she was with another guy.” “She said he was her assistant, but when she was driving, he kept leaning against her, and his hand… his hand was on her leg.” “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t want to lie to you, I just… I didn’t know how to tell you…” My hands clenched the bedsheet. A cold fury crept through me. How dare she. To flaunt her affair in front of our son. I let out a long, slow breath and pulled him into a hug, my heart aching for him. “Toby, this is not your fault.” “Anyone would be confused in that situation. If I were you, I would have done the exact same thing.” Toby pulled away, his tear-filled eyes looking up at me pitifully. “Dad… do you still want me?” I paused, then gently stroked the back of his head. I smiled. “I think the question is, do you want to stay with me?” Toby sniffled and nodded so hard his head bobbed. I squeezed his cheek gently. “Alright. You have school tomorrow. Time to get some sleep.” He obediently lay down. After I tucked him in and waited for him to drift off, I turned off the light and quietly left the room. 3 The next day, Tina and I went to the courthouse and filed the divorce papers. When we got back, she started packing her things. Neither Toby nor I asked if she needed help. We moved around each other like ghosts. But that evening, as I came home from work, Tina called out to me. “Your father called me today.” My heart leaped into my throat. “He said Sean lost his job and he wanted me to help him out, give him a position at my company.” “It’s not a big deal for me, so I agreed. But I thought I should let you know.” Before she could say another word, I had my phone out, dialing my father’s number on speaker. He picked up almost immediately. “Dad, about Sean’s job—tell him to figure it out himself.” “Tina and I are divorced. Don’t bother her again.” “Divorced? When did this happen? Why?” “Leo, you can’t—” I knew what was coming. He was going to try to talk me out of it. He’d always liked Tina more than he liked me. I cut him off. “Tina is seeing someone else. We’re divorced. It’s over. Do you understand?” There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end. I used it to hang up. When I looked up, Tina’s face was flushed red. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so blunt with my father. My phone buzzed. It was him again. I declined the call and stood up to leave. If we were going to argue, I didn’t want to do it in front of Tina. But she grabbed my wrist. “Leo, it’s just a job for Sean. It’s a small thing. You don’t have to refuse my help and fight with your dad over it.” My relationship with my father was strained, and I hated arguing with him. But I hated the idea of being indebted to Tina even more. She used to be my wife. We were family. Now, she was just the mother of my child. Nothing more than a stranger. I yanked my arm free. “I’ll handle this myself. Stay out of it.” She blocked my path, her voice laced with confusion and a hint of anger. “You’d rather fight with your father than accept my help? Why?” I sighed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Do I need to remind you that we’re divorced?” The color drained from Tina’s face. “Yes, we’re divorced,” she stammered. “But we were together for twenty years. If we can’t be husband and wife, can’t we at least be friends?” The idea was so absurd I had to laugh. “Friends with your ex-husband? Have you asked your new boyfriend how he feels about that?” Tina’s pale face seemed to crumble. She just stood there, frozen. 4 The phone was still ringing. I needed to take the call, so I left Tina standing there and stepped out into the stairwell. The moment I answered, my father’s shrill voice nearly pierced my eardrum. “Leo, tell me right now, are you really divorced from Tina?” “Yes. We are.” My father’s voice cracked with desperation. “How could you divorce her? She’s the owner of a huge company! You’re divorced and almost forty, where are you going to find another woman with that kind of success?” “Besides, plenty of women fool around on the side. You just have to suck it up and get over it, right?” “Look at me, that’s what I did. Listen to your old man, don’t get divorced. If you do, you’ll have nothing.” For a moment, I wanted to cry. I could almost see my promiscuous mother standing before me again, looking down with cold indifference at my father as he begged her to stay. I had pleaded with my father to divorce her. But he hadn’t worked since they got married. If he left, he couldn’t even support himself, let alone my brother and me. So he stayed, begging for money like a dog, refusing to divorce her and let some other man benefit. He let himself be ground down by that rotten marriage until the day she died. A sarcastic laugh bubbled up in my throat. “So I should just put up with it for the rest of my life, just like you?” The other end went silent. When he spoke again, his tone was agitated. “What else are you going to do? That’s just how life is. You endure.” “And if you divorce Tina, what’s going to happen to your brother?” There it was. I knew it. It always came back to Sean. Tina, the successful daughter-in-law who made him look good, had helped Sean out of more than a few jams. He wasn’t about to let that go. “Then let Sean go live with Tina,” I snapped. “I’m out of the picture. The position of husband is vacant. He can make a play for it.” “You—” I had no patience for his lecture, and even less for an argument. I cut him off. “I’m not you. I don’t have to endure anything. I can support myself and my son just fine without her.” “I’m telling you about the divorce, not asking for your opinion. And don’t worry, it won’t affect the two hundred dollars a month I send you for your expenses.” “You can spend it however you want. But that’s all you’re getting.” I hung up the phone. I leaned back against the cool wall, tilted my head back, and let out a long breath. But the tears came anyway. I wiped them away before going back inside. That’s just how it is when you’re an adult. Even when you cry, you have to do it in secret. 5 My father called a few more times after that, always bringing up Sean’s need for a job. But Sean was a grown man with two hands and two feet. He wasn’t going to starve. I wasn’t going to help him. Seeing my firm stance, my father finally gave up. Tina moved out. The night she left, I heard Toby crying in his room. I didn’t go in. Kids have their own worlds, their own emotions they need to process in private. The days of the cooling-off period ticked by. Tina and I had no contact. Until one afternoon, after a long meeting, I checked my phone to find dozens of missed calls, all from her. And a text message. [I’m downstairs at your office. Come down when you see this.] For Tina to come all the way to my office, it had to be serious. I hurried downstairs. As I reached the lobby, I saw her pacing anxiously by the entrance. “What’s wrong?” I asked as I approached. She started to speak, but a colleague walking in interrupted her. “Afternoon, Mr. Hayes.” Tina froze, her eyes wide. “You… when did you become a Director?” My voice was flat. “Last year.” “Why didn’t you ever mention it?” I looked down. A few years ago, when I was promoted to manager, I had rushed home, ecstatic to tell her. Her only response was a lukewarm “congratulations.” I remembered when I’d been promoted to assistant team lead, years before that. She had been more excited than I was, insisting we go out to celebrate. Tina, who never spent more than a few dollars on a meal, had splurged on a massive seafood dinner for us that night. When did it all change? When did promotions stop being a cause for celebration? When did our anniversary become nothing more than a perfunctory bouquet of flowers? When did we stop even saying “happy birthday” to each other? We no longer went out for walks or to the movies on weekends. Even sharing a meal became a silent affair. We stopped asking about each other’s work. Besides our son, it felt like there was nothing left for us to talk about. In a reality like that, what difference would it have made if I’d told her? 6 A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t have the energy to get into it with her. “You were in such a hurry to find me,” I said, changing the subject. “What is it?” Tina hesitated, swallowing hard. After a moment, she finally spoke. “My mom just called. It’s her birthday this weekend. She wants the family to get together for dinner.” I raised an eyebrow. Her mother’s birthday dinner. That’s why she’d rushed all the way down to my office? I didn’t know what game she was playing, and I didn’t care enough to ask. “Fine. I’ll tell Toby. You can pick him up then.” I turned to leave, but she grabbed my arm again. I glanced at her, then down at the hand gripping my wrist. She let go, looking embarrassed. “What I meant was… I want you to come too.” I frowned. “What are you talking about? You haven’t told your mom we’re divorced?” Tina looked uncomfortable. “Well…” “Can we just… not tell her yet?” Her voice was almost a plea. “She has high blood pressure. I’m afraid the shock…” “And you didn’t think of that when you asked for a divorce?” Tina fell silent, looking down in shame. I sighed. When Toby was born, I was working myself to the bone to re-establish my position at the company. Tina was pouring all her energy into her startup. It was her mother who had stepped in to help with the baby, saving us. A few years ago, her health had started to decline, and not wanting to be a burden, she had moved into an assisted living facility. She had always been good to me. I respected her deeply and didn’t want anything to happen to her. “I’ll agree to this, just this once,” I said. “But you need to find the right time to tell her yourself before we finalize the divorce.” Tina let out a huge sigh of relief. “Leo. Thank you.” I just nodded and went back upstairs. That weekend, I took Toby to the retirement home. Tina was already waiting for us at the entrance. We went in together. Her mother was overjoyed to see us. She fussed over Toby, pressing a red envelope into his hands, then took my arm and asked how I’d been. The atmosphere was warm and happy. Until a voice cut through the cheerful chatter. “Happy birthday, Mom!” We all turned. A young man was standing in the doorway. He looked like he’d just graduated college, full of youthful energy. Tina looked horrified. She rushed to the door to block his path. “Evan! What are you doing here?” Toby suddenly tugged on my sleeve. His face was pale. He leaned in and whispered, “Dad… that’s the young guy from Mom’s car. The ‘assistant’…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387773”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I deliberately ignored the bank’s collection calls, let my accounts freeze, and officially became a “deadbeat.” I wasn’t panicked, but the intern sure was. In my past life, on Black Friday, the intern used my identity to take out a massive loan, treating the entire company to a shopping spree at the mall. It left me saddled with millions in debt. When I confronted her, demanding she pay it back, she threw herself into my boyfriend’s arms, sobbing. “Sarah, just because I have money doesn’t mean you can accuse me like this!” My boyfriend was even worse, screaming at me. “Sarah, you’re just vain! You took out those loans to buy luxury goods yourself, and now you want to frame Bella to pay for it? How can you be so vicious?” In the ensuing argument, I was pushed down the stairs and fell to my death. My boyfriend and my colleagues all testified for the intern, claiming I fell on my own. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the intern invited the whole company on a shopping spree. Chapter 1 “Tomorrow is Black Friday! To thank everyone for taking care of me, I asked Jake for the day off. I’m taking the whole team to the mall for a shopping spree. It’s all on me!” Hearing Bella’s familiar voice, I looked at the clock on the wall and realized instantly: I had been reborn. The next second, Bella grabbed my arm. “Sarah, new members get a 10% discount at that mall. Can I borrow your ID to sign up?” My body trembled violently. The pain of falling down those stairs in my past life flooded back. In my previous life, on this exact day, Bella invited the company to shop. She used the excuse of a “new member discount” to borrow my driver’s license. It wasn’t until the debt collectors showed up that I realized the million dollars she spent was a loan taken out in my name. When I confronted her, she played the victim, crying into my boyfriend Jake’s chest. “Sarah, just because I have money doesn’t mean you can accuse me!” Jake shouted at me, “Sarah, you’re just jealous and vain! You bought luxury goods and now you’re trying to pin the debt on Bella? You’re disgusting!” During the argument, I was pushed. I died. And they all lied to cover it up. Thinking of the pain, I gritted my teeth. Before I could react, Jake snatched my purse, dug out my license, and handed it to Bella. I snapped back to reality and ripped it out of Bella’s hand. “Jake! Who gave you the right to take my ID?” Jake looked at me with annoyance. “Sarah, what is your problem? Bella is treating everyone tomorrow. She just needs your ID for a membership card. Give it to her and stop holding everyone up.” Bella held my hand, smiling sweetly. “Sarah, if we open the card, all the reward points will go to you. You can use them to buy whatever you need for the house.” Jake put his arm around Bella, eyes full of adoration. “Bella, you’re such a saint. Always thinking of others.” Chapter 2 Jake glared at me impatiently. “Sarah, I wish you were half as sensible as Bella. She’s always thinking of you, and you just hurt her feelings over and over. Give her the ID and apologize.” I laughed out loud. “No thanks. Give your charity to someone else. I can’t afford it.” Jake exploded. He slammed a folder onto my desk. “Sarah! You are targeting Bella on purpose! She’s being nice to you, and you’re being ungrateful! Apologize to her right now or we’re done! I hate jealous, petty women like you.” If this were the old, love-struck me, I would have been introspective, blaming myself. But now? Watching their performance just made me sick. I looked at him coldly. “Fine. Let’s break up. You and your ‘little sister’ can live happily ever after.” Jake’s eyes widened. He looked shocked that I would actually agree to a breakup. “Sarah, are you crazy? Do you know what you’re saying? I only see Bella as a sister! Stop projecting your dirty mind onto us!” Bella looked at me with big, teary doe eyes. “Sarah, Jake takes care of me, but we really are just like siblings. Please don’t fight because of me. How about this? Tomorrow at the mall, I’ll buy you a new Hermès bag. Consider it a rental fee for your ID.” Jake sneered at me. “Sarah, isn’t that what you wanted? Taking advantage of Bella? Without her, you’d never even set foot in an Hermès store in this lifetime. Give her the ID and stop wasting our time.” Colleagues chimed in. “Bella uses your ID but gives you the points AND a luxury bag? People would kill for that deal. Stop being ungrateful.” “You’re just jealous because Bella is a rich intern. She must be some heiress. You could work for a hundred years and never be on her level.” “Seriously, Sarah. As a manager, you only buy us cheap coffee once a week. So stingy. No wonder everyone likes Bella more.” I used to buy them drinks out of my own pocket every week, and they never complained. Now I’m stingy? Ungrateful wolves. Fair-weather friends. Bella started getting impatient. “Sarah, please stop making a scene. Give me the ID. I need to go to the mall after work to set up the card so we don’t waste time tomorrow.” I clutched my bag tight, staring her down. “I have plans tomorrow. I’m not going. I don’t need you to buy me anything. Borrow someone else’s ID.” A flash of malice crossed Bella’s face before she switched back to the crying victim. “Sarah, I know you don’t like me. But everyone has been working so hard… I just wanted to treat the team. If you’re not happy, let’s just forget it. Everyone can just come to work tomorrow instead.” Chapter 3 Bella’s words painted me as the villain who canceled the party. Instantly, my colleagues turned on me. Someone shoved me to the ground. Another splashed water from a cup onto my clothes. “Sarah, do you hate seeing us happy? Just because you don’t want to go, you have to ruin it for everyone?” “How can you be so toxic? We finally get a day off and a shopping spree, and you ruin it out of jealousy?” Someone kicked me in the stomach. I gasped in pain. “You always act so high and mighty. Now you’re ruining everything for us just because you’re envious?” Ignoring the pain, I grabbed a vase from a desk and smashed it on the floor. The crash startled everyone. I used the moment to push them away and stand up. “Are you all insane? I never said you couldn’t go shopping! I just refused to let her use my ID! If you want to go, give her your IDs! Why does it have to be mine?” A colleague rolled her eyes. “It’s just an ID. Why are you being so petty?” She pulled out her own license and handed it to Bella. “Bella, ignore Sarah. She’s ungrateful. Use mine. I’m new too.” “Bella, use mine! I don’t mind. Just buy me a bag!” Bella looked at the people offering their IDs with hidden disgust, but kept a smile plastered on her face. Near the end of the day, I had a sudden stomach cramp and went to the restroom. When I came back to grab my bag and leave, I paused. Something felt off. I remembered leaving my bag unzipped because I was in a rush. Now, it was zipped. I checked immediately. Everything was there. My license was still in the inner pocket. I breathed a sigh of relief. Jake walked by and chuckled. “Sarah, do you have a persecution complex or something?” I rolled my eyes and ignored him, walking out. That night at home, I felt restless. Something was wrong. Just as I was about to sleep, my phone rang. It was a woman from the bank. I had borrowed $300,000 six months ago and missed the payment. It was a month overdue. I checked my records. A year ago, my cousin had an emergency and needed money. Since I was estranged from my parents because of Jake, my funds were frozen, so I took a loan to help her. I had been so busy with work I forgot to pay it back. I was about to transfer the funds when the bank employee continued: “Miss Vance, if you do not repay immediately, you will be blacklisted. All your credit lines across all major banks will be frozen, and no new loans will be issued.” My finger froze. An idea struck me. “I’m sorry. I don’t have the money right now. Go ahead and freeze all my accounts.” I hung up and blocked the number. Finally, I relaxed. Even if Bella had stolen my info, she couldn’t take out a loan now. Chapter 4 The next day, I got a call from our family butler. “Miss, today is your mother’s birthday. Are you coming home? She misses you terribly.” I looked at the calendar. A wave of sadness hit me. It was Mom’s birthday. I hadn’t been home in over a year since the fight. Thinking about how much I hurt my parents for a scumbag like Jake made me want to slap myself. “Uncle Lee, I know. I’ll be there tomorrow.” After hanging up, I decided to go to the mall—one owned by my family—to buy a gift. I walked into a luxury boutique and spotted a new limited-edition bag. Just as I reached for it, another hand snatched it away. I looked up. It was Jake and Bella. Jake handed the bag to Bella. “Bella, this is the new Hermès. There’s only one. It suits your elegance perfectly.” Bella looked at me provocatively. “But Sarah seems to want it too. Maybe I should let her have it?” Jake sneered. “Oh look, it’s Manager Vance. Didn’t you say you weren’t coming? Tell you what—if you get on your knees and apologize to Bella right now, I’ll let you join our shopping trip.” I rolled my eyes and turned to leave. Jake grabbed my arm and threw me to the floor. “Sarah, stop pretending! Without Bella, a bag like this would cost you three months’ salary. I’m giving you a chance. Don’t be ungrateful.” I rubbed my sore arm, stood up, and slapped Jake across the face. His eyes bulged. “Sarah! You dare hit me?!” Bella started crying immediately. “Sarah, I’m sorry! I won’t treat everyone anymore!” My colleagues rushed over, surrounding me. “Sarah, did you do this on purpose?” “Why are you so toxic? You’re like a ghost haunting us!” “Bella is paying for us, and you keep trying to ruin it! You just can’t stand seeing us happy!” Someone grabbed my hair and forced me down. Another sprayed perfume directly into my eyes. It burned like fire. Another colleague took off the shoe she was trying on and pressed the sole into my face. “Sarah, if not for Bella, you’d never even smell luxury like this. Consider this a favor.” The sales associate tried to intervene. “These items are not testers! Once opened or damaged, you must purchase them!” Jake scoffed. “Ignorant. Bella can buy out this whole store with a wave of her hand.” He smashed a vase on the floor next to me. “Sarah, apologize to Bella now!” I struggled up and pushed Jake. “I did nothing wrong! Why should I apologize?” My colleagues started throwing items from the counter at me. The store was a mess. The staff tried to stop them but got pushed down too. “Relax! We’re paying!” The store manager walked up with a card reader. “Then please pay for the damages first. It’s roughly $800,000. Or I’m calling the police right now.” Everyone stopped. “Blind fools. No wonder you just work retail. Bella, pay them so we can leave this dump.” Bella pulled out a black card and tapped it on the machine. Beep. “Insufficient funds. Transaction declined.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387790”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I got doxxed and cyberbullied because I paid out of pocket to open a subsidized food counter in the school cafeteria for low-income students. They called me a fake humanitarian and said I was insulting people with “pig slop.” But the meal plan I set was: an entrée, two sides, and a soup for just $1. When I rushed into the cafeteria, scholarship student Lily was smashing her tray onto the counter. Braised pork and gravy splattered everywhere. Mrs. Higgins, the lunch lady, stood there frozen, her face pale. Those hands, which always gave an extra scoop for the students on financial aid, were now trembling uncontrollably. I walked past Lily, went straight to Mrs. Higgins, picked up a napkin, and gently wiped the gravy from her face. It turns out, kindness is the cheapest thing in the world. If that’s the case, this counter is closed. Permanently. Chapter 1 “Isn’t a dollar still money?” Lily’s voice was piercing. “Why do they get to eat seared tuna while we’re stuck eating this greasy braised pork?” She emphasized the word “greasy,” her phone camera pointed straight at Mrs. Higgins’ face. The comments on her livestream were scrolling like crazy: “We support you, Lily!” “Aren’t poor students human too?” Mrs. Higgins was so flustered she could barely speak: “This… this pork was bought fresh this morning. I picked the best cuts myself and slow-cooked it for two whole hours…” “Who cares about slow-cooking!” Lily shoved the tray violently, sending chunks of greasy meat rolling onto the floor. “Look at this fat! The grease is practically oozing out! Feeding us this pig slop… do you have no conscience?” The words “pig slop” stabbed right into my heart. Mrs. Higgins’ eyes instantly turned red. “Lily!” I pushed through the crowd of onlookers, my voice shaking. She immediately turned the camera on me, her voice filled with excitement: “Look everyone! Our rich princess, Quinn, finally decided to show her face!” “Come on, tell everyone right here. Did you serve us this low-quality trash on purpose just to humiliate us?” I forced down the anger rising in my chest: “Mrs. Higgins went to the market before dawn to hand-pick every single ingredient…” “Spare me the fake speech!” She cut me off with a shriek, spittle practically flying into my face. “If you really cared about us, why isn’t the food the same at every station? We want tuna too! Why the discrimination?” I was shaking with rage, my nails digging deep into my palms. The same? Is she insane? She wants seared tuna for a dollar? Why doesn’t she just go rob a bank? The viewer count on the livestream was skyrocketing, and the comments were filled with vile insults. Just then, I saw the most blinding comment of all—it was from Brandon. “Team Lily! Smash the privilege!” Brandon. The guy whose tuition I had covered for three full years. I remember when he first enrolled, he didn’t even have a decent coat. I paid his tuition. I gave him a living stipend. Last year, when his mother needed surgery, I even covered the medical bills. But now, here he was, leading the charge against me online. Suddenly, my phone started vibrating like crazy. Insulting texts from unknown numbers flooded in, one after another. Chapter 2 “Go to hell!” “Think you’re special just because you have money?” “People like you deserve to rot!” On the campus forum, my photo was photoshopped into a black-and-white funeral portrait with the words “Got What She Deserved” plastered over it. My name was trending on Twitter, followed by the hashtag #FakePhilanthropist. What chilled me even more was seeing avatars I recognized in the comments section. The sophomore whose financial aid application I stayed up all night helping revise. The senior I used my connections to get an internship for. Now, they were all kicking me while I was down, attacking me with the most vicious words imaginable. I watched Lily fake-wiping tears for the camera. I looked at the mob reveling in the chat, and at Brandon’s ungrateful comment. In that moment, my heart turned to ice. I turned to leave. The jeers of the wealthy students surrounded me: “I told you not to meddle.” “See? This is what happens to do-gooders.” “Thought she was a savior, but nobody even cares.” I finally understood. Feeding kindness to dogs is the stupidest thing you can do in this world. You think this meal is disgusting? Fine. Then from now on, nobody eats. Back in my dorm, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Toxic DMs kept popping up on the screen: “You think money lets you do whatever you want?” “Why haven’t you offed yourself yet?” … I turned my phone off. The world finally went quiet. But the insults kept echoing in my brain. Then, a knock on the door. “Quinn, it’s Mr. Davis from the Dean’s Office.” “The administration requires you to come to the admin building immediately to explain today’s situation. You’ve brought negative publicity to the university!” I stayed silent. Getting no response, Mr. Davis’s tone hardened: “Quinn Sterling, if you continue to hide, the school will take necessary measures.” I laughed out loud, coldly. They aren’t going after the rioters, but they’re coming for me? Do they really think I’m a pushover? After his footsteps faded, I turned my phone back on and made a call. “It’s me.” My voice was ice. “Investigate a few people. Lily, Brandon, and the ones leading the charge in the livestream. I want to know everything about them.” The voice on the other end responded quickly: “Understood. How deep?” “As deep as it goes.” I said. “Especially Brandon.” I hung up and opened my laptop. Threads attacking me had already sprung up on the forum, the titles getting nastier by the minute: Exposing the Sterling Family’s Dark Secrets The Dirty Deals Behind the Charity Counter The True Face of a Hypocrite The funniest part was that beneath these posts, many students I had previously helped were jumping on the bandwagon to spread rumors. The guy whose medical bills I paid was now swearing I harassed him. The girl I helped find a job was claiming I stole her wages. Human hearts, it turns out, can be this poisonous. Early the next morning. I was woken up by violent banging on my door. “Quinn Sterling, get out here! We want justice for all low-income students!” Through the peephole, I saw Lily leading a group of twenty people, all of them livestreaming. “See everyone? She’s hiding in there like a turtle!” Chapter 3 Lily cried into the camera. “This is the true face of the rich! She did something guilty and doesn’t even have the courage to face us!” I took a deep breath and threw the door open. “Finally brave enough to come out?” Lily shoved her phone right in my face. “Please explain to everyone right now, why did you poison low-income students with substandard ingredients?” I looked at her coldly. “Are you done?” She clearly didn’t expect that reaction. Her face froze. “Since you’re done, now it’s my turn.” I took a step forward, looking directly into her camera lens. “Lily, do you dare tell everyone how much that ‘simple’ dress you’re wearing costs?” The crowd stirred. I turned to face all the cameras, speaking word for word: “In three days, I will hold a press conference in the cafeteria. At that time, the whole truth will come out.” With that, I slammed the door shut. The show was just beginning. The public outcry grew worse. Even the stock price of my dad’s company took a hit. The night before the press conference, as I was double-checking documents, my dorm door was knocked on again. It was Lily again. She couldn’t hide the smugness on her face. I opened the door and didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Oh, Miss Lily. Visiting so late? Are you here to give me a final ultimatum?” I deliberately hunched my shoulders. “Seeing those comments online, and my family’s stock price! I’m so scared.” Lily clearly didn’t expect this reaction. She paused, then contempt flashed in her eyes. “Now you know fear? Where was this before? Let me tell you, Quinn, at the press conference tomorrow, you better do exactly as we say.” “Publicly apologize, and upgrade our meal standard to match the wealthy students! Or else…” She sneered, the threat heavy in the air. I continued to play the terrified victim, looking at her with anxious eyes: “Or else… or else what? Can you really make my family…?” “Hmph, what do you think?” Seeing me cower, Lily grew even more arrogant. “You can’t even imagine the power of public opinion! A wise person knows when to yield. Bow your head, admit your mistake, and it’ll be better for everyone, right?” She even took a step forward, offering fake comfort: “Quinn, your family has money anyway! What’s the difference between 5 million and 50 million to you? If you let us eat well, we’ll even thank you!” I suppressed a sneer, forcing a look of gratitude and fear onto my face: “R-Really? Thank you for reminding me, Lily… I-I will consider it carefully…” “That’s more like it.” Lily nodded with satisfaction, then turned and walked away with her head held high. Closing the door, the mask dropped instantly. She actually believed I would cave? Tomorrow, when the truth comes out, I wonder how wonderful that smug look on her face will be. I’m actually looking forward to it. On the day of the press conference, the cafeteria was packed. Even the aisles were full. Reporters were ready and waiting. Before I could even get on stage, Lily rushed to the microphone first. Chapter 4 She spoke, voice choking back sobs: “Fellow students, members of the media, standing here today, my heart is heavy.” “We low-income students never wanted to take advantage of anyone. We just wanted fairness!” Tears streamed down her face. “Why can some people eat tuna while we only get pork? Is being poor a sin?” Applause erupted from the crowd. Many scholarship students wiped their eyes. Seeing this, Lily performed even harder: “Today, we only hope Quinn Sterling can give us an answer. We don’t ask for much, just that the food at all stations be standardized…” I watched her performance quietly. Only when she finished did I calmly walk up to the podium. Lily glanced at me triumphantly, as if victory was already in the bag. “Miss Sterling, what is your response?” “Do you admit to discriminating against low-income students?” “How do you intend to compensate the students for the harm caused?” Reporters fired questions like a machine gun. I adjusted the microphone gently. The room went silent. “First, I want to thank Lily for her speech.” I said calmly. “She made me realize my mistake more clearly.” A victorious smile appeared on Lily’s face. She even flashed a peace sign at the livestream camera. “My biggest mistake was treating low-income students differently from wealthy students.” I continued. “I shouldn’t have assumed that scholarship students needed special care. I shouldn’t have assumed they would cherish that kindness.” Lily’s smile began to stiffen. She seemed to sense something was wrong. “So, I have decided to correct this mistake.” I looked around the room, enunciating every word. “Starting today, the subsidized counter is permanently closed. All students will be treated equally and pay market price for meals.” “Since you think a one-dollar braised pork meal is an insult, then go eat the fifty-dollar tuna.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387806”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

One day, I woke up in a “wife-chasing crematorium” novel. I wasn’t the long-suffering heroine or the vicious side character. I was the scumbag male lead’s mother. As I recalled the plot, my son committed every despicable act imaginable. He tortured the heroine’s body, broke her heart, and even desecrated her memory. Meanwhile, he was handing over money, fathering a child, and even offering up a kidney for the “other woman.” It all culminated in the heroine, driven to despair, leaping to her death from a skyscraper. Only then did he clutch her ashes and put on a grand performance of undying love. My blood pressure skyrocketed. My liver ached with pure rage. This son was a lost cause. But they say the child’s sins are the mother’s fault. Since I was now his mother, he could blame me for the coming storm. Because I was about to overhaul this entire family. “Unhand my daughter-in-law, Benny Ford! Your mother has arrived, and she is not pleased!” 1 “Sign it! Don’t make me say it again. Isla can’t wait.” A man’s voice pierced through the fog of my consciousness. My eyes focused on a lavish, European-style living room. A pale woman in a simple dress was kneeling on the floor. This scene, this dialogue… Wasn’t this from that trashy, melodramatic novel I was ranting about last night? In the story, the heroine, Elara Vance, enters into a business marriage with the male lead, Benny Ford. She gives him her whole heart, only to have it thrown to the dogs. Benny is obsessed with his first love, Isla Shen, and treats his wife with icy contempt. After Isla returns to the country, she frames Elara for pushing her down the stairs. Benny, the brainless idiot, not only believes the lie but demands that Elara, who is already pregnant, donate one of her kidneys to Isla. Remembering the infuriating plot and seeing the scene play out before me, I let a string of curses fly. “Benny! What the hell is wrong with you?” My outburst plunged the entire villa into a dead silence. The kneeling heroine stared at me, her tear-filled eyes wide with astonishment. Benny was stunned, looking at me in utter disbelief. “Mom?” That one word sent a jolt through me. I looked down at myself. I was dressed in a chic Chanel suit, a diamond ring big enough to blind someone sparkling on my finger. My face was smooth and youthful, looking no older than thirty-five. I was the picture of a wealthy socialite. I… I had become the scumbag male lead’s mother? The background character who just stood by and watched as her son destroyed himself and his wife? Benny had already recovered, tossing the donation consent form in front of Elara. “Mom, don’t make this more complicated. Elara pushed Isla. She has to donate a kidney.” I rushed forward, shielding Elara behind me. “Is Isla Shen the only person in the world who needs a kidney? There are countless donors on the registry, but you have to force my pregnant daughter-in-law to give up hers? Is she your personal, on-demand organ bank?” Benny’s face darkened. “Mom! Elara viciously pushed Isla down the stairs, rupturing her kidney! This is the punishment she deserves!” Listening to this garbage, I let out a cold laugh. “Do you have proof? Isla opens her mouth and you just believe her? Does this mansion not have security cameras? Do you run your investigations on gut feelings and your company on fortune-telling?” My rapid-fire accusations left Benny speechless, his face turning a furious shade of red. He was breathing heavily. “Mom! You’re being completely unreasonable!” “You’re the one being unreasonable!” I shot back. “Check the security footage right now! If it proves Elara is innocent, you just wait and see how I deal with you!” “Fine! We’ll check it!” Benny snapped, calling for the staff. “Mr. Henderson, bring up the footage from the landing!” A small crowd gathered in the living room to wait. Soon, the butler returned with a tablet, his expression hesitant. Benny snatched it from his hands. The video was crystal clear. On the landing, Isla and Elara appeared to be arguing. Suddenly, Isla threw herself backward. Elara’s hand shot out, clearly trying to catch her, but she didn’t even touch the hem of Isla’s dress. No one pushed her. She fell on her own. Benny stared at the screen, the color draining from his face. “Do you see it clearly now, my dear son?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “Did she push her? Or did your precious Isla stage the whole thing?” I turned and gently patted Elara’s hand. “My dear, what do you think should happen next?” Elara looked at Benny, her eyes red-rimmed. “Benny, you’ve seen the video. I’m innocent. You have to make Isla Shen apologize to me.” My heart sank. That’s it? Just an apology? Had this girl been abused into submission? With concrete proof in her hands, shouldn’t she be seizing the opportunity to divorce him, escape this hell, and take half his fortune to live her best life? All she wanted was an apology? “No. Isla can’t apologize. She’s too fragile, she can’t handle the stress. We’ll just drop the matter this time.” 2 I was even more shocked to find that Benny’s bias was so deeply ingrained. He wouldn’t even allow for an apology. “Drop the matter?” A bitter laugh escaped Elara’s lips. “Benny Ford, you and Isla Shen truly disgust me.” With that, she turned and walked away. I looked at my stupid son, who stood frozen with a dark expression on his face, and sighed. I had no desire to see the rest of this tragic story play out. Just as I was plotting how to get them divorced, Isla herself arrived. “Mrs. Ford! You have to stand up for me!” she cried, rushing over and clinging to my arm before I could say a word. “I never wanted to take anything from Elara, but ever since I came back, she’s been so hostile. Last time, she even pushed me down the stairs…” I frowned, impatiently pulling my arm away. “Enough. We’ve already seen the security footage. You fell on your own. Stop the act.” Isla was taken aback, her pitiful expression nearly slipping. But she clearly had a backup plan. She pulled me aside and mysteriously took out several photos from her purse. “Mrs. Ford, I don’t mean to stir up trouble, but even though Elara is carrying a Ford heir, she was involved with another man right before she got pregnant. Look at this…” She pointed to photos of Elara hugging and having dinner with another man. “I’m afraid the baby’s origins are… questionable.” I took the photos and looked closely. The man’s face was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Seeing my expression, Isla thought she had me convinced. She raised her voice. “Benny! Come look at this!” Benny strode over. As his eyes fell on the photos, his face turned black as thunder. “Elara!” he roared up the stairs. “Get your ass down here!” I slapped him on the back of the head. “What is wrong with you now? Does the sight of this woman just melt your brain?” “Mom!” Benny stood his ground, his eyes bloodshot. “Are you just going to stand there and watch this woman cheat on your son?” Yes! Absolutely! I screamed internally. I hope she cheats on you, divorces you, and runs for the hills! Before I could place the man in the photo, Benny had grabbed Elara by the wrist. “Elara! Explain this to me! Who is this bastard?” He yanked her so hard she stumbled and fell to the floor. “Benny! We’ve been married for five years! Don’t you know whose child I’m carrying? How could you suspect me…?” Seeing her crumpled on the floor, my heart clenched. I was about to intervene again when a flash of insight struck me. I remembered! The man in the photo bore a striking resemblance to Elara. It was her younger brother, who was studying abroad! “Let her go!” I pried Benny’s fingers off her wrist and threw the photos in his face. “Open your eyes and look properly! That’s Elara’s brother! Your own brother-in-law! You don’t even recognize him? Is your head stuffed with hay?” “Wh-what?” Benny was dumbfounded. Elara picked up a photo and glanced at it. “This is my brother, Liam. He came back to visit last month. We had dinner.” Isla’s face went deathly pale. She tried to argue. “But the baby in her belly might not be…” “Might not be what?” I cut her off sharply. “Are you only happy when you’re trying to brand my son as a cuckold for no reason? I trust my daughter-in-law’s character! It’s not your place, an outsider, to sow discord here!” The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get out! Get out of the Ford house right now! And don’t you ever set foot in here again!” Isla flinched, and with no one left to defend her, she had no choice but to leave. Benny finally hung his head. “Elara,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.” 3 After dealing with Isla, I subjected Benny to a crash course in how to be a decent husband, trying to steer him off the path of a scumbag. But after just two days of peace, the butler delivered some shocking news. Benny’s father was coming home. Which meant my husband, Donovan Ford, was arriving. The original novel didn’t say much about him, only that he was a workaholic who spent most of his time abroad. He was extremely strict with Benny but paid little attention to his family. “Mom, I’m a bit tired. I’m going upstairs to rest,” Elara said, her expression changing at the news. Seeing my confused look, Benny explained. “Dad was never happy about my business marriage with Elara. He’s a bit old-fashioned and felt our family got the short end of the stick, so he’s always had a problem with her.” “What kind of problem?” I pressed. Benny seemed reluctant to elaborate. “It’s all in the past. Mom, please don’t ask. Dad will be back tomorrow. You should watch what you say, too. Don’t be like you were today.” Oh, this little brat was trying to lecture me now? “Was I wrong to protect my daughter-in-law? Let me tell you something, Benny. If your father starts talking nonsense, I’ll take him on too!” I glared at him. Benny, choked by my response, had nothing more to say and left. I sat alone in the living room, my mind racing. Old-fashioned? A problem with his daughter-in-law? Combined with Elara’s reaction… this was bad. Very, very bad. That evening, Donovan Ford, looking like a man in his thirties despite his age, walked in wearing a deep gray bespoke suit. And behind him were two women. Isla, dressed in her signature white dress, looked as fragile as ever, her eyes darting toward Benny. But the real eye-sore was the sophisticated woman next to her, who bore a striking resemblance to her—Mrs. Shen. “Vivian,” Donovan said, his voice smooth. “Isla and her mother happened to be nearby, so I invited them over.” Mrs. Shen smiled and looped her arm through Donovan’s. “That’s right. Donovan said there was a small misunderstanding at home and asked us to come help mediate.” She acted as if she were the lady of the house. I sneered internally, waiting to see what new trick they had up their sleeves. “I heard about what happened with Elara,” Donovan began, waving a dismissive hand as if he were a great peacemaker. “Young people can be impulsive. But Isla is a Shen, after all. Our families have worked together for years. There’s no need to let a small tiff ruin our relationship.” Mrs. Shen immediately chimed in, her voice soft and cloying. “Exactly, Mrs. Ford. As women, we should be more magnanimous, more virtuous. That’s what makes us appealing. Causing a scene over trivial matters just disrupts the harmony of the home.” She finished with a glance in my direction, her eyes filled with unconcealed provocation. I looked at her, clinging to my husband’s arm. I looked at Donovan’s nonchalant attitude. And then, I understood everything. No wonder Benny’s favoritism was so extreme. It was hereditary. Like father, like son. The rot started at the top. SMACK! I slammed my palm on the table so hard that the tea in Donovan’s cup splashed out. “Donovan Ford! Are you trying to relive your glory days? Has some little flower outside addled your brain?” I pointed directly at Mrs. Shen, who was practically fused to Donovan’s side. “Bringing these two outsiders into my home to lecture my legally-wed daughter-in-law, who is carrying your grandchild! Who do these people think they are, trying to teach the Fords how to behave?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387822”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The doctor suddenly called me into her office to discuss my daughter’s condition. My daughter is only seventeen, but she has been battling cancer for three years. After entering the office, I noticed a man in a suit sitting there as well. As soon as I walked in, they locked the door. The doctor said to me, “I’m sorry, but we misdiagnosed her three years ago. Your daughter doesn’t have cancer.” “She has osteosarcoma. Because of the previous incorrect treatment, it has progressed significantly, and she needs an amputation.” “I formally apologize to you, but what’s done is done. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m sorry.” I stared blankly at the doctor. Three years. To treat my daughter’s cancer, she dropped out of school, I sold our house, and we spent all our savings. My husband slept only four hours a day, working two jobs just to keep her safe. Overworked and exhausted, he fell ill and died young, leaving us, mother and daughter, to depend on each other. My daughter used to be a beautiful girl. Now she is skeletal, her hair has fallen out, and she weighs only seventy pounds. We kept fighting the cancer, ruining our family for it, dreaming only of the day she would be healthy again. But now they tell me it was just a misdiagnosis. There was no cancer at all. Seeing my silence, the doctor continued, “Ma’am, osteosarcoma is easily misdiagnosed. If you look it up, you’ll see it’s one of the most commonly misdiagnosed diseases.” I asked, “Did you call me here to discuss compensation?” She shook her head, “We don’t plan to compensate.” I was stunned. She continued, “The hospital’s idea is that we won’t refund the medical fees for the past three years of cancer treatment. Since you’ll need money for follow-up treatment anyway, we’ll keep it as a balance on our medical card. Is that okay?” I still didn’t speak, feeling the world spin around me. She handed me a contract, asking me to review it and sign if there were no issues. Every line of the contract was predatory. Party A will not refund cash to Party B, only refunding the $830,000 balance to the medical card, which Party B cannot withdraw. Until Party B’s treatment is completed, at which point any remaining balance will be refunded or additional costs charged. Party B promises not to pursue this matter further, not to publicize it on any internet platform, and to waive all civil litigation rights. The doctor said, “Although we didn’t pay compensation and only gave you the medical card balance, we are also taking a loss. It’s like we bore the cost of the past three years of medical fees.” I said agitatedly, “But that was your misdiagnosis! That treatment wasn’t needed in the first place!” She asked, “Is there any point in saying that? Are we not already taking a loss to cover it?” I couldn’t understand their logic at all. 2 My family fought cancer for three years, until we were destitute. Now they won’t pay a cent in compensation, won’t even refund the medical fees, forcing me to keep the money in their hospital to treat the osteosarcoma, and claiming they are the ones taking a loss! I asked the doctor, “If you hadn’t misdiagnosed her three years ago, if we hadn’t wasted these three years, would my daughter still need an amputation?” The doctor sighed, “Why do you have to bring up these hypotheticals? Do you want me to feel guilty? The problem is, I already feel very guilty. I said, what’s done is done, and I can’t change it.” Fate is so tragic. I had been hoping for my daughter to beat cancer, only to be told she never had it, and now she has to lose a leg because of it. I sniffled and asked, “Is there any way to save her leg?” The doctor said, “No, it has progressed too far. Amputation is the best option.” I couldn’t help but say, “I want to take her to another hospital. I don’t accept your plan, and I don’t feel safe letting you continue treating her.” The doctor got anxious. She said, “Why don’t you understand! Amputation is the best option now. Even if you go to New York or Boston, their treatment plan will be amputation! We’ve already covered the cost of three years of cancer treatment. What exactly are you trying to do by saying this? Are you trying to raise the price?” Her sudden agitation left me at a loss. My daughter was misdiagnosed, yet the doctor was acting more emotional than anyone. She suddenly wiped away tears and said, “Do you know? The hospital leadership has already talked to me. If you don’t sign, I will be fired. But even if you sign, the leadership won’t give me any promotion opportunities anymore. I’ve also lost my future. Let’s just let each other go.” I looked at the crying doctor, feeling the irony of the world. She kept saying she was guilty, but all she cared about was her own career. Just then, my phone rang. I picked it up and saw a message from my daughter. She asked, “Mom, are you done talking to the doctor? I finished my checkup.” Looking at the message, I wanted to cry. 3 How do I tell her that her cancer is gone, but she has to lose a leg forever? I wiped away my tears and said, “I don’t want to treat her here anymore. No matter what you say, I want to take her to a major hospital. I want to save her leg.” The doctor panicked. She suddenly stood up, slammed a checkup report in front of me, and shouted at me agitatedly, “You can’t save it! Don’t you just want more money? Look for yourself, it has already metastasized to her lungs!” I stared blankly at the report she suddenly produced, but I couldn’t read it. Because this was the first time I had heard of this disease. But I gathered from her words that amputation wasn’t the end. I asked, “Is her life in danger? Will she die even if she loses a leg?” The doctor said, “Yes. If you cooperate and sign the contract now, we can provide life-saving follow-up treatment.” I stood up. She misdiagnosed my daughter, allowing it to progress to amputation and life-threatening danger. Then she started threatening me with my daughter’s life, saying this was the best choice. At this moment, I was even more certain that I wanted to change hospitals. But just as I stood up, the man suddenly leaned in, grabbed my shoulder, and pressed me down. Forced back into the chair, the man sighed and said, “I understand you care about your child, but sit down first. Let me talk to you.” I turned around, looking at him in shock. I asked, “Are you forcing me to sign?” The atmosphere suddenly became very serious. The doctor glanced at me and said, “Sign it, and there won’t be so much trouble. This is for your daughter’s good. I’ll go out for a bit, you think it over.” She said to let me think, but after she left and locked the door, only I and this man remained in the room. He sat in the seat the doctor had just occupied, adjusted his suit, and said to me, “Let me introduce myself. I am the hospital’s lawyer. My last name is King.” I whispered, “Hiring a lawyer to talk to me, do you really think you can win the lawsuit?” Lawyer King shook his head and said, “Impossible. We will definitely lose this lawsuit, but you must accept the hospital’s conditions.” I looked at him, confused. Since he knew the hospital would definitely lose, why did he want me to accept? 4 Lawyer King said, “The hospital conservatively estimates that if treatment starts immediately, your daughter will live for about two more years, and there is even a possibility of full recovery. I admit your daughter was not in mortal danger initially, and all of this was caused by the hospital’s incorrect treatment over the past three years.” My heart sank. He looked full of confidence. But what was the basis of his confidence? Lawyer King said, “If you accept the hospital’s conditions, we will start follow-up treatment immediately. But if you don’t accept, as far as I know, your family really can’t scrape together any money. Without money for treatment, your daughter might not live for a year.” I instinctively said, “I can make the hospital pay compensation, and then take the child to a big city for treatment.” The lawyer asked, “And what if we appeal?” I stared at him blankly. He shrugged and said, “Civil disputes are very slow. We’ll drag it out for six months first. After the court ruling comes down, we’ll appeal if we’re dissatisfied, dragging you for another three months. When the ruling comes down again, we’ll delay the payment for a while.” I said excitedly, “Aren’t you bullying people?” He nodded, “Ma’am, you’re right, we are bullying you. But we are legal. Even if we drag it out until your daughter dies, we haven’t broken the law.” Lawyer King suddenly took out his phone, placed it in front of me, and dialed 911 on the keypad. He said, “You can call the police if you’re not convinced. It doesn’t matter. Even if the police come, I can say openly in front of them that I intend to drag this out until your daughter dies, because we haven’t broken the law.” Listening to his words, I felt the world spinning. My daughter doesn’t have much time left, all because of them. But not only did they have no guilt, they used this fact as a weapon to cut deep into my heart. Sitting in the chair, I felt a helpless despair spread throughout my body, making it hard to even breathe. Lawyer King said, “How about this, you don’t need to rush to sign. Go talk to your daughter first, and feel free to ask anyone for advice. Ma’am, I advise you, the law is fair, but the law is often too late.” He patted my shoulder and sent me out of the office. I stood at the hospital entrance in a daze, my head full of the words spoken by Lawyer King and the doctor. I took out my phone and searched for the contact information of many doctors and lawyers. Those doctors told me that if osteosarcoma has metastasized to the lungs, treatment must be immediate, as life is already in danger. 5 Those lawyers asked me first if there was any way to raise money to get through the immediate crisis. After knowing that I really couldn’t raise the money, they told me that now it’s either money or my daughter. Just as Lawyer King said. The hospital pushed us to a dead end, and then took advantage of our lack of retreat to bully us to their heart’s content. Legal murder. What an ironic term. I wanted to cry, but I held it back. Because I saw my daughter, Sunny, waiting for me on a stone pier by the road with two bowls of fried rice from a cheap takeout place. Thinking I hadn’t arrived yet, she opened both bowls and carefully moved the eggs from her bowl to mine. Since my husband died from overwork, she was always afraid that one day I wouldn’t be able to hold on either. She always secretly gave me the nutritious food, lying that she had already eaten. With my husband gone, this family of mother and daughter needed a pillar. I didn’t want my daughter to see me cry. She held the bowl, her thin hands trembling. My daughter used to be such a beautiful girl, but now she is skeletal, finding it difficult even to hold a bowl of rice. When she noticed me walking over, she quickly arranged the two bowls of rice, handed me the one with more eggs, and said to me with a smile, “I’ve already eaten half.” I took the rice, held back the urge to cry, and sat beside her. Sunny rubbed her aching leg, smiled and said to me, “Mom, my birthday is coming up.” I looked at her expectant little face and asked, “What do you want?” She said, “I want a hoverboard. I checked online, it only costs three hundred dollars. My leg always hurts, so that would make it easier to get around, and it can take me to work.” Sunny took out her cheap smartphone. The screen was cracked in several places, but she couldn’t bear to replace it. She pointed at the hoverboard on the screen, full of anticipation. Holding the bowl, I couldn’t stop my tears from falling.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387836”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While preparing for euthanasia abroad, a reporter suddenly asked me: “Miss Miller, what is the biggest regret of your life?” I thought for a long time before slowly speaking: “When I was a child, my parents went to an orphanage to adopt a child. I chose a quiet boy, and in the end, despite everyone’s objections, I insisted on marrying him.” My words piqued the reporter’s curiosity, and she continued to ask: “Did you end up marrying him?” I touched the scar on my wrist, the wound long since healed into a scab. This was a rare moment of clarity for me. “I did, but then we divorced. He got together with my best friend of twenty-five years. I heard recently that they had a second child. That’s good.” The afternoon the interview aired, Julian Vance rushed from back home and stopped the procedure. He looked at me, his eyes filled with uncontrollable joy: “Jane, it’s so good you’re not dead! Your mother talks about you all the time, she misses you, we all miss you.” I pulled my hand back from his grasp and said softly: “Sir, do we know each other?” Chapter 1 Julian looked as if he had been hit over the head with a club, freezing in place for a full two seconds. “Jane, even if you hate me, you don’t have to pretend not to know me, right?” I looked at the face in front of me with confusion. It did look somewhat familiar. The foreign nurse beside me leaned in and whispered a reminder. “Miss Miller, have you forgotten? You showed us photos. This is your ex-husband.” Ex-husband? It dawned on me. I fished a yellowed notebook out of my hospital gown pocket. I flipped through a few pages seriously, my finger stopping on a certain line, finally matching the face. “So it’s you. You came just in time. You can collect my body. After I die, remember to bury me next to my dad.” Julian snatched the notebook from my hand and threw it hard on the ground: “Jane, are you crazy! How long are you going to keep this up! Five years ago, you faked your death and left, leaving everyone in pain and guilt. Isn’t that enough?” I lowered my head and said nothing. The brain tumor was pressing on my nerves. I had forgotten too many things, and I didn’t even have the energy to argue. Because of Julian’s arrival, I didn’t die. Maybe because I wanted to die closer to my dad, I agreed to go back with him. On the way back, Julian kept talking: “After you disappeared, everyone went crazy looking for you.” “When the car was pulled out of the sea, the driver’s seat was empty. Everyone thought you were dead.” “Your mother cried for a whole month, almost going blind. She asked me to bring you back this time too. When we get back, have a good talk with her. There’s no deep hatred between mother and daughter.” My head hurt listening to him, so I interrupted his chatter: “Mr. Vance, my notebook says the reason our marriage broke down was that you cheated with my best friend. Is that true?” Screech! The sound of tires rubbing against the ground was piercing, and the car lurched violently. Julian pursed his lips tightly and said nothing. The topic ended there. Chapter 2 The car pulled into the driveway. Sarah Reed was supporting my mother at the door. Seeing me get out of the car, my mother snorted and turned her head away. My heart ached, but I didn’t speak. Although the memories in my head were fragmented, my body had muscle memory. I subconsciously walked through the living room and pushed open that familiar door. My desk, my piano, they were all gone. Replaced by Lego blocks and Transformers scattered all over the floor. Julian blocked my way, trying to hide the scene inside. “Jane, I’ll clear the room for you right away.” Before he finished speaking, a five-year-old boy suddenly rushed out from the corner. He spread his arms to block the door, glaring at me viciously. “This is my toy room! Don’t touch it! Bad woman, get out!” The boy threw the toy car in his hand hard at me. The hard metal hit my kneecap, a piercing pain. I groaned, swaying, almost falling: “Leo!” Sarah rushed over to cover the boy’s mouth, her face full of panic. I didn’t get angry. I just felt the pain in my knee travel along my nerves straight to my heart. It was too crowded here. I even found it hard to breathe. I turned and dragged my painful leg outside. Julian chased after me. He forced me into the car and took me to a high-end hotel. The moment the room lights turned on, those forgotten memories flooded back. When I was seven, my parents took me to the orphanage, saying they wanted to adopt a brother for me. Among the children trying to show off, only Julian shrank in the corner. My parents didn’t like him, thinking he was too solitary and couldn’t be tamed. But when some older kids pushed me down to steal my candy… Julian shielded me, refusing to move even when beaten black and blue. That day, I cried and threw a tantrum in my parents’ arms, pointing at his bloodied face. “I want him! I want this brother!” Just like that, Julian came home with us. For over a decade, we went to school together and grew up together. He protected me in the palm of his hand, never letting me suffer a single grievance. Later, we got married. But on our first wedding anniversary, I had booked a restaurant but couldn’t contact him. Afraid something had happened to him, I followed his phone’s location. It was a high-end hotel like this. Sarah opened the door in a sexy nightgown, and Julian lay asleep on the bed. One was the husband I had loved for over a decade, the other was my best friend of over a decade. In that moment, my world collapsed. Chapter 3 I didn’t even have the courage to rush in and question them. Instead, I ran away like a deserter. Despair, shame, and nausea filled my mind. I stood on the bridge, looking at the dark, churning river water, and jumped. The cold river water poured into my nose, and suffocation surrounded me. My dad was worried about me and had been following me. Seeing me jump, he jumped in without hesitation. He used all his strength to push me ashore, but he struggled in the turbulent current and finally sank. Later, when my dad’s body was fished out, my mom cursed me madly, punching and kicking me. “What couldn’t you get over? I told you long ago, men are like this. If you can accept it, stay. If not, divorce! Why did you have to cause trouble!” For a long time afterwards, whenever my mom saw me, she would say: “Why wasn’t it you who died?” Yes, I wanted to know why too. Why could she forgive Julian, forgive Sarah who destroyed my family, but not forgive me? The moment the memories returned, the intense pain made my whole body spasm. I clutched my chest, squatting on the ground, gasping for breath: “Jane, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” Julian looked at me curled up on the ground, his tone tense. A knock on the door sounded. He stood up to open it. The door opened, and Sarah’s gaze quickly swept over Julian. Seeing his clothes were neat, her tense shoulders quietly relaxed. She sidled into the room, her gaze falling on me, putting on the airs of the hostess. “Jane, since you’re back, you should come home.” “I’ve had the room cleared. Leo is young and doesn’t know better. You’re the elder, don’t hold it against him.” Five years later, I looked at my once-best friend this closely again. The question I couldn’t ask five years ago, I finally had the chance to ask today. “Sarah, why did you betray me?” This question was not only about Julian’s change of heart, but also about Sarah’s intrusion. They clearly knew what the other meant to me. Chapter 4 The fake smile on Sarah’s face could no longer be maintained. The so-called decency was torn open, so she stopped pretending. “Yes, it’s all my fault. But Jane, can I control my feelings?” “I just wanted to fight for my own happiness. Is that wrong?” What a righteous reason. To fight for happiness, one could shamelessly climb into their best friend’s husband’s bed. “Enough!” Julian suddenly roared, interrupting her tearful complaint: “The past is in the past, why bring it up!” “Now that Jane is back, I will do everything I can to make it up to her. I will return the Miller family’s company to her.” At these words, Sarah’s crying stopped abruptly. “Julian, you’re giving everything to her, right? What about me and Leo?” Julian’s silence ignited Sarah’s anger. She looked at the man in front of her with disappointment and slowly backed towards the door. “Fine! Since you want to make amends so much, let’s divorce!” With that, she turned and ran out of the room. Julian stood there, his gaze shifting between the direction Sarah disappeared and me. One second, two seconds, three seconds. In the end, he made his choice. “Jane, rest well here. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.” Leaving this instruction, he turned and chased after her. Looking at the empty doorway, I suddenly laughed out loud. Jane, oh Jane, your return this time is simply humiliating yourself. Curling up and coughing violently for a while, I looked at the blood on my palm and suddenly missed the childhood days snuggled in my parents’ arms. Before I die, let me take one last look.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387852”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The Present She was my best friend in high school. The kind of friend you’d bury a body with. One New Year’s Eve, she came over to keep me company. We started drinking cheap whiskey at eight and didn’t stop until the ball dropped. She passed out cold, so I carried her to my bed. Just as I was tucking her in, her eyes snapped open. “You wanna try it?” Her eyes, usually sharp and guarded, were glassy and direct. “Us?” Everything changed after that night. … This morning, a package landed on my porch. Inside was a letter and a collection of junk: my old varsity wristband, a guitar pick I thought I lost, and a strip of faded photo booth pictures. I thought one of my buddies was pranking me until I saw the handwriting. Spiky, rushed, unmistakable. Then I looked at the postmark. This letter was mailed ten years ago. My heart hammered against my ribs. Suddenly, I wasn’t twenty-eight anymore. I was seeing a face I hadn’t thought about—hadn’t let myself think about—in a decade. A face that looked like a boy but smiled like an angel. “No way,” I muttered. “You’re still messing with me?” Junior Year Ten years ago, I was a senior. I was a burnout, exiled to the back row of the classroom—the “stoner row”—next to the trash can. No one wanted to sit next to me. Three days into the semester, we got a transfer student. Alex. Alex walked in looking like a member of a grunge band: shaggy hair, flannel shirt, oversized denim jacket. The girls in class perked up, thinking we finally got a cute emo guy. Mr. Henderson, our math teacher and a man who looked like he ate nails for breakfast, glared at the new kid. “Alex Miller. I can see your house from here. How are you late on your first day?” Alex didn’t flinch. “I can see the sun from here, too, but I can’t touch it. You wanna try?” The whole class inhaled sharply. Henderson was a former marine. He once broke up a fight in the parking lot by lifting two linebackers by their collars. We thought Alex was dead meat. Instead, Henderson just sighed. “Find a seat. Open your books.” Alex walked straight to the back and dropped a bag next to me. Headphones around the neck, eyes glued to the front. “Hey, man,” I whispered. “You got a death wish? Henderson eats kids like you.” Alex glanced at me, pure disdain. “I’m not your ‘man’.” My jaw hit the desk. Alex was a girl. And she was terrifying. The Bond We didn’t speak for a week. She read comics, listened to her Walkman, and drew on the desk. Then came the Ramen Incident. During study hall, she made instant noodles with hot water from the teacher’s lounge. She spilled some broth on the desk. “Hey, Slick,” she snapped at me. “Pass me a napkin.” “My name is Jake,” I shot back. “Not Slick.” “Napkin!” she barked. I threw a wad of paper towels at her. She wiped the desk, balled it up, and sank a three-pointer into the trash can next to me. “Whatever, Slick. Don’t be so sensitive.” The nickname stuck. That was Strike One. Strike Two happened in the Computer Lab. We were supposed to be learning Excel, but the guys were setting up a LAN party for Counter-Strike. Suddenly, my buddy Ben raised his hand. “Mr. G! My screen froze!” “Mine too!” “Same here!” The teacher, a clueless guy named Mr. G, started panicking. “Who isn’t frozen?” I looked around. My screen was the only one working. Alex, sitting to my left, stood up. “Jake’s computer is fine.” Mr. G rushed over. “Why is yours working?” I grinned nervously. “Built different, I guess.” That’s when Alex reached over, grabbed my mouse, and minimized my window. Behind it was a pop-up ad I hadn’t closed—a very graphic, very adult pop-up ad featuring a woman in compromising lingerie. “Sir,” Alex said with a straight face. “I think Jake gave the network a virus. He’s looking at porn.” The class erupted. My reputation was nuked. From that day on, girls avoided me, and guys high-fived me in the hall. ” didn’t know you were into the weird stuff, Jake!” I looked at Alex. She was smirking. Game on, I thought. The Shift I finally got leverage a month later. Alex was acting weird—pale, quiet, refusing to stand up during lunch. I noticed a dark stain on her jeans. I knew exactly what it was. “Hey, Alex,” I said loudly. “Let’s go to the cafeteria. My treat.” “No,” she hissed. “I bet I can beat you there. Unless you’re scared?” She glared at me, trapped. She wanted to kill me, but she couldn’t stand up. I waited a beat, then took off my oversized flannel shirt and tossed it to her. “Tie it around your waist,” I whispered. “You leaked.” Her face went crimson. It was the first time I’d seen her look embarrassed. “Do you have… supplies?” I asked. “What?” “Tampons, pads. You know.” She looked like she wanted to die. “No.” “Stay here.” I ran to the nurse’s office, grabbed a handful of supplies, and sprinted back. I slid them to her. “Go. I’ll watch the door.” The next day, she returned my shirt. It smelled like laundry detergent—lavender. “Your shirt was filthy,” she grumbled. “The water turned black.” She was still mean, but the wall had cracked. We weren’t just desk-mates anymore. We were bros. The Letter: Part 1 Hey Slick, It’s me. Your favorite nightmare, Alex. If my math is right, you’re twenty-eight now. How’s life? Did you become a rock star, or did you sell out and become a suit? Getting this letter must be weird. We sat next to each other for a year, but we never really talked about the real stuff. I spent most of that time pranking you. You probably hated me. I acted like a dude, dressed like a slob, and kept everyone at arm’s length. It was armor, Jake. If I didn’t care, I couldn’t get hurt. If I didn’t let anyone in, they wouldn’t have to watch me leave. But you… you were different. You were warm. Being around you was like standing next to a campfire in the middle of winter. That’s why I was so mean to you. Every time you were nice to me, I panicked. I wanted to be close to you, but I made myself run faster. I was a coward. The Fight Senior year. Winter. Alex was moody. I asked if it was “that time of the month” and she told me to go to hell. Finally, she cracked. “Can you beat someone up for me?” I blinked. I was on academic probation, hanging by a thread. “Who?” “Tyler Vance.” Tyler was a varsity linebacker and a total prick. “Why?” Alex bit her lip. “He… he’s bullying me.” That was all I needed. That night, I kicked open Tyler’s dorm room door (we were at a semi-boarding school). He was playing poker. I dragged him off the top bunk and broke his nose before his roommates pulled me off. “Touch her again, and you’re dead,” I spat. The next morning, I was suspended. Sent home until May to “reflect” before finals. As I packed my locker, Alex stood there, eyes red. She gave me her prized vintage Walkman. “Jake… I didn’t think you’d actually get expelled.” “Worth it,” I grinned, sporting a black eye. “Now I can play video games all day.” She tried to smile, but a tear rolled down her cheek. The Letter: Part 2 I regret asking you to fight him. Tyler wasn’t bullying me. He was blackmailing a girl in our class, Linda. He had photos of her. I wanted to stop him, but I was scared. So I used you. I watched you pack your bag. You were smiling, trying to make me feel better, even though your dad was going to kill you. If I had just three more months… maybe things would have been different. The saddest thing isn’t losing. It’s almost winning. It’s the “what if.” New Year’s Eve Two days into my suspension, Alex showed up at my house. She was wearing a white puffer jacket and a red scarf. For a second, she actually looked… pretty. “How’d you find me?” I asked. “Stole your address from the office,” she said. “Get dressed. We’re going out.” We spent that winter causing trouble. My parents were away on business, so we owned the town. Arcades, pool halls, skating rinks. She was terrible at skating—she’d grab onto me and drag us both down onto the ice, laughing hysterically. Then came New Year’s Eve. She showed up with a bag of snacks and a bottle of Jack Daniels. She mixed the whiskey with hot water and lemon—said it was an old family remedy for the cold. We drank. A lot. We watched the countdown on TV. By midnight, we were wasted. She fell asleep on the couch. I carried her to my room because it was freezing downstairs. I put the blanket over her. That’s when she opened her eyes. “You wanna try it?” she whispered. “Try what?” “Sex.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387256”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel