Category: English

My arch-nemesis mocked me for being perpetually single, so out of spite, I pinched my own neck until it turned red. “See this?” I smirked, pointing to the mark. “My boyfriend gave me this.” He scoffed. “As if. What man would ever want you?” Later, as I sat crying outside the OB-GYN office, my nemesis appeared, his face dark as a thunderstorm. “Who is he? I’m going to beat him to a pulp.” “Stop crying. I’m taking you and the baby.” 1 I woke up naked next to a man. That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that the man was none other than Lucas Chen, my mortal enemy. Everyone in the city knew we hated each other. Our feud was legendary. Last night at the bar, we lost a bet and were forced to kiss. Afterward, Lucas leaned back on the sofa, smirking lazily. “A little clumsy there, Princess. Was that your first kiss?” Furious, I snuck off to the bathroom and pinched my neck until a red hickey-like mark appeared. I flashed it at him triumphantly. “See this? My boyfriend gave it to me. He’s incredible. Way better kisser than you.” Lucas’s expression soured. He stared at the mark coldly. Then he sneered, “Please. What man would ever want you?” Maybe he was pissed about losing to me, but Lucas, who rarely drank, got absolutely wasted that night. I drove him home, planning to take embarrassing photos of him for blackmail. Instead, I ended up in his bed. Damn it! I bit my lip, trying to wiggle out of Lucas’s arms. The moment I moved, he tightened his grip, nuzzling his face into my neck. “Mianmian… be good… let me stay a little longer…” Mianmian? Great. He’s sleeping with me but dreaming about his ‘white moonlight,’ his first love. Jerk! It took everything I had to escape his embrace. My legs were so weak I almost collapsed when my feet hit the floor. The room was a disaster. Flashbacks of last night hit me. Lucas holding my ankles, gripping my waist… my ripped stockings on the floor… I wanted to slap myself for not resisting. But then I glanced back at the bed. That body. Those muscles. That… size. Honestly? Who could resist that? I’ll just consider it a free night with a high-end gigolo. An American-sized, top-tier gigolo. 2 In our circle of trust-fund babies, there’s a rule about sleeping around: Keep it secret. If anyone found out I slept with Lucas Chen, I’d never show my face in this city again. Ignoring the soreness in my body, I scrubbed the room clean of any evidence I was there. Lucas stirred a few times, and I had to sacrifice my dignity to kiss and cuddle him back to sleep. After sneaking out of his villa, I slumped onto a bench outside a convenience store to catch my breath. My phone rang. It was Lucas. His voice was raspy with sleep. “Zoe, where are you?” My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t help but remember him whispering in my ear last night to relax. My face burned. “W-what do you want?” “Did you bring me home last night?” “Yeah… I was just passing by. Wanted to see you make a fool of yourself.” Lucas didn’t bicker like usual. He asked, his voice low, “Did you sleep here last night?” I lied smoothly. “…Yeah. I was drunk too. I crashed in the guest room and left early.” “You didn’t sleep in my bed?” “…No!” I gripped the phone, guilty as charged. “In your dreams! Who wants to sleep in your bed?” “…” Lucas went silent. Just then, a group of college guys walked past the store, bumping into my shoulder. I yelped. Lucas spoke up suddenly. “You’re with a guy?” I seized the opportunity. “Yeah! My boyfriend. We’re going on a date. What do you want?” Lucas’s voice went flat. “Nothing. Guess I was dreaming. Bye.” Dreaming? A… wet dream? Good. Let him think that. I knew he wouldn’t suspect anything. I have ten years of experience helping my dad cover up his affairs. I’m a pro at cleaning up messes. Just to be safe, after hanging up, I photoshopped a picture of myself with a faceless muscle guy and posted it on Instagram with three kissy face emojis. It worked like a charm. For the next month, silence. Lucas didn’t suspect a thing. He didn’t even contact me. Relieved, I threw a party to celebrate my freedom. But before I could even take a sip of champagne, I threw up everywhere. 3 Holding the test report, I was stunned. Pregnant. Is Lucas Chen a sniper or something? One shot, one kill? The doctor asked if I wanted to keep it. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. But fate had other plans. Before I could even leave the clinic waiting area, my mom called. “Zoe! Your Aunt Karen just called. She saw you at the OB-GYN. Are you pregnant?” I felt a sudden urge to cry. “Mom… actually, I kind of want to keep—” She cut me off. “Get an abortion immediately!” “I’ve already found you a match. Come back, get married, and secure that land deal in the East District. We need to stabilize your father’s position…” I froze. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. “Mom… you don’t even care how I am? Or who the father is? You just want me to abort it?” “Who cares who the father is? Your bastard half-brother is climbing the ranks in the company. That son of a mistress is trying to steal my inheritance!” “Is that all you care about? Am I just a tool for you to fight his mistress?” “Stop being dramatic! If you were a son, would I have to fight this hard? It’s my fault for having a useless daughter. I’ve treated you well, haven’t I? Just marry the man. How can you talk to your mother like this?!” “Just marry him? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel?” My hand shook as I gripped the phone. “Just like every time you needed money, you’d stage a ‘catch him in the act’ scene with Dad, pretending I was on his side so he’d pay me hush money!” “Mom, you might be willing to endure a twisted marriage, but I’m not!” Silence on the other end. Then, a cold voice. “I don’t care what you say. Zoe, you have one week. Get the abortion, come back, and get married. Or don’t call me Mom again, and don’t expect a single cent of the inheritance!” Click. She hung up. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed right there in the hallway. I dropped my phone and didn’t even care. Through my tears, I saw a pair of polished leather shoes stop in front of me. “Didn’t know the Princess cried so ugly.” A magnetic, mocking voice drifted down. I looked up. Lucas Chen. Narrowing his eyes at me. What the hell is he doing here?! Thinking of my ruined makeup, I wiped my face and turned away. “None of your business!” Lucas stood there, hand in his pocket, a smirk playing on his lips. “Where’s that muscle boyfriend you posted? Dumped you?” “Crying alone at the OB-GYN… people might get the wrong idea.” I jumped up. “Shut up! I’m not pregnant! I’m not here for that!” Just then, a nurse walked out. “Miss Zoe Zhuang? Are you scheduling the abortion? If not, we’re closing.” Me: “…” Lucas blinked, his smirk vanishing. His gaze sharpened. “Zoe, how far along are you?” He reached for the report I had left on the chair… 4 My heart stopped. I snatched the paper before he could touch it and hid it behind my back. If he sees the date, he’ll know. And he’ll force me to get an abortion. “Lucas! What are you doing? A woman’s uterus is… private! You can’t just look!” “Fine, I’m pregnant… 9 weeks! Happy? Want to laugh at me for being unwed and pregnant?” I glared at him, bluffing with all the acting skills I honed lying to my dad. Lucas stared at me for a long ten seconds. “9 weeks.” His expression darkened. The timeline didn’t match the night I took him home. He bought it. “Is it the muscle guy’s?” he asked abruptly. I looked down, guilty. “…Yeah.” “Does he know?” “…Why does he need to know?” I pretended not to care. “Call him,” Lucas said, his face void of emotion. “Tell him to get his ass here. Now.” “…” How do I summon a nonexistent person?! “He blocked me,” I lied through my teeth. “Blocked?” Lucas repeated the word, his voice dangerously low. “Zoe, usually you’re so loud and arrogant. Now you get dumped and bullied, and you just take it?” He sounded… angry? Wait, why is he mad? Even if we are enemies, mocking me right now is low. I bit my lip. “Who said I got dumped? I dumped him!” Lucas scoffed. “Oh? Then why are you crying?” “I… tears of joy! Okay?!” Lucas went quiet. I thought he’d leave after getting his laugh. Instead, he asked, “What are you going to do with the baby?” “I’m keeping it,” I blurted out. Talking to my mom earlier made me realize something. If I didn’t abort and marry for business, she really would abandon me. I was useless to her otherwise. Unloved children learn to be rational. This baby… might be the only family I’ll ever have. “Keeping it?” Lucas snorted, his tone stinging. “Zoe, you love that naked muscle guy that much? You’re keeping his kid after he blocked you?” “I didn’t know you were such a simp.” See? He just wants to mock me. Jerk! I didn’t want him to see me break, so I turned and walked away.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386390”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I came home a day early from a year-long work assignment, eager to surprise my husband and our three-year-old son. But when I pushed open the door, the surprise was mine. I saw my son on all fours, scuttling across the hardwood floor like an animal, gnawing on a piece of raw meat. My husband, Liam, was holding up his phone, broadcasting it all on a private, encrypted live stream. “He can catch a live chicken with his bare hands now!” Liam narrated with a showman’s grin. “Come on, viewers, let’s see those donations light up the screen!” A scream tore from my throat as I lunged for my child, but Liam shoved me back, hard. His old flame, Chloe, who was perched beside him, offered a sickeningly sweet piece of advice. “Ava, honey, don’t be mad at Liam,” she cooed. “This is for Leo’s own good. We’re teaching him real-world survival skills. That’s invaluable, isn’t it?” Liam wrapped an arm around her waist, his smile turning into a sneer directed at me. “Chloe is a professional survivalist. Our son is better off learning from her than from a mother who’s gone half the year.” Chloe added, her voice a soft poison, “Kids today are just so coddled. This is character-building.” I looked at my son’s eyes—eyes that held nothing but a feral glint—and with a cold resolve, I dialed my brother’s number. My brother, the Green Beret. “Rhys,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “They’re turning your nephew into a beast for a livestream. Get your guys. Come get us.” Fine. If they worship the law of the jungle, I’ll let them experience what it’s like to be at the bottom of the food chain. 1 The moment I hung up, Liam snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it against the floor. “Are you insane? What the hell was that?” he hissed, his face a mask of fury. “Your precious brother died three years ago! Who did you think you were calling to save you?” I didn’t tell him that my brother, the one he thought was killed in action, was actually commanding an elite Special Forces unit from a black site deep in the borderlands. Seeing my silence, Liam scoffed. “Everything I do is for our son’s benefit! Look at Leo—he’s strong, he’s tough. This is how you build resilience!” Beside him, Chloe chimed in with her false sincerity. “He’s right, Ava. Everyone is talking about ‘primal parenting’ now. If you’re not hard on them, the world will eat them alive.” She preened, continuing her pitch. “And the stream is for his future, too. It’s building his brand. Leo has hundreds of thousands of followers already. He’s an influencer, on track to be the next Bear Grylls! You have to trust my professional expertise.” I ignored their twisted logic. My gaze found my son cowering in the corner, and I softened my voice. “Leo? Look at Mommy. Mommy’s home.” But the child only crouched lower, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He didn’t respond to his name. His eyes were bloodshot, wild. Yet, as they met mine, for just a fraction of a second, a flicker of something gentle, something familiar, pierced through the feral madness. That flicker instantly reminded me of a horrific video I’d stumbled upon online months ago, a viral clip titled The Wolf Cub. It showed a naked, filth-caked child fighting with stray dogs in the mud over a scrap of meat. The brutality of it was seared into my memory. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I pointed a trembling finger at them. “For his own good? Primal parenting? That viral video… The Wolf Cub… that’s Leo, isn’t it?” Chloe’s eyes lit up with a disturbing pride. “Oh, you saw that? I knew he was getting famous! The engagement on that clip was incredible!” She turned to Liam, shaking his arm excitedly. “See, Liam? I told you! At this rate, he’ll hit a million followers by the end of the year!” Liam pulled her closer, his eyes soft with adoration. “It’s all thanks to you, Chloe. Leaving Leo’s education in your hands was the best decision I ever made.” Something inside me shattered. “You monsters!” I grabbed a heavy glass vase and lunged at Chloe, aiming for her face. The moment the vase left my hand, a blinding pain exploded in my abdomen. Liam had kicked me, sending me crashing to the floor. The impact felt like my organs had been rearranged. Chloe, clutching a shallow cut on her cheek, burst into theatrical tears. “Liam, why can’t she see we’re trying to help? We’re doing this for Leo’s future!” Liam’s gaze fell on the trickle of blood on Chloe’s face, and his expression turned murderous. He kicked me again, a brutal, full-force blow that made me curl into a ball, gasping for air. “You ungrateful bitch, Ava! Chloe has poured her heart and soul into making our son strong, and this is how you repay her?” Suddenly, a furious snarl erupted from the corner. Leo, my little boy, launched himself across the room and sank his teeth into Liam’s leg. “Agh! You little animal!” Liam roared in pain. He grabbed Leo by the arm and flung him against the wall with sickening force. “LEO!” A terror I’d never known ripped through me. I scrambled across the floor, ignoring the fire in my ribs, and threw my body over my son’s small, trembling form. The livestream was still running. The comment section scrolled at a frantic pace: “HOLY SHIT! Plot twist! The cub protects his mom!” “We got blood! This is what I’m talking about! So raw!” “Donations coming in! This is the content I paid for!” “Yeah! It’s not primal training without a little blood!” Chloe saw the comments and the soaring viewer count, her eyes gleaming with a manic light. “Liam, look! It’s a new record! They love it!” she squealed. “We should strike while the iron is hot. Let’s add a bonus stream: ‘Wolf Cub vs. The Hunger Hound.’ It’ll break the internet!” The chat exploded with “YES!”, “DO IT!”, and “LET’S GOOOO!” “No! Liam! Chloe! Please, I’m begging you! Don’t do this!” I sobbed, clutching Leo tighter. The numbers on the screen had made Liam’s eyes feverish. He loomed over me, his voice dripping with cold contempt. “A soft mother makes a weak son. Open your eyes and see the incredible results of my methods.” In the corner, Leo’s little body was wracked with uncontrollable tremors, his eyes wide with pure terror. Liam barked an order toward the door. “Get in here!” Two large men, security guards, entered the room. “Take the young master to the training area,” Liam commanded. “NO! Don’t you touch my child!” I screamed, trying to shield him. The guards ripped me away, pinning me down as one of them lifted Leo into the air like a sack of potatoes. Leo kicked and writhed, terrified whimpers escaping his throat. “Let him go! You’re not human, Liam! And you, Chloe, you venomous snake! You’ll both pay for this!” I was slammed against the wall, held fast by two sets of hands, able to do nothing but scream curses. Liam’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Gag her,” he said to the guards. “I don’t want her noise ruining the stream or upsetting Chloe.” A filthy rag was shoved into my mouth. My protests turned into muffled, agonized sobs, tears streaming down my face. One guard carried Leo to a large iron cage in the center of the room and tossed him inside. Leo landed hard with a cry of pain and immediately scrambled into the farthest corner. Chloe clapped her hands, her face alight with excitement. “And now, for tonight’s main event! ‘Wolf Cub vs. The Hunger Hound!’” Another guard entered, leading a snarling, emaciated-looking dog on a thick chain. The livestream chat went into a frenzy. “Here we go! The ultimate showdown!” “Place your bets! I’m putting $100 on the dog!” “Nah, I’m with the cub! Did you see him bite his dad?” “Rocket donation sent! Let’s get this show on the road!” Chloe, watching the donations pour in, announced in a high-pitched, carnival-barker voice, “Alright, family! The moment you’ve been waiting for! The odds are open! On the left, ‘Wolf Cub’ at 1.5. On the right, ‘The Hound’ at 1.8! Get those gifts in to support your champion!” A guard unlocked the cage, shoved the dog inside, and slammed the heavy door shut. In the confined space, the dog fixed its eyes on Leo, a predatory growl vibrating in its chest as it advanced. Leo was shaking from head to toe, but pure survival instinct took over. He dropped to all fours, bared his teeth, and let out a surprisingly ferocious roar of his own. “That’s it! Get him!” Chloe cheered from outside the cage. The starved dog lunged. Leo dodged, rolling to the side with an agility that spoke of horrifying practice. This was not his first time playing this “game.” A brutal dance of predator and prey began inside the cage. It was a scene from hell. The livestream was a chaotic blur of gift animations and donations that almost completely obscured the screen. The comments were scrolling too fast to read. “YES! So wild!” “Go for the throat! DO IT!” “This is way better than a dogfight!” “Take my money! This is epic!” My mouth was gagged, my body restrained, my heart shattering as I watched. My son. My baby, who should be in preschool learning his ABCs, was fighting for his life against a vicious animal in a cage. And I could do nothing but watch. I thrashed against the guards, slamming my body into them with all my might, a desperate, hopeless sound trapped in my throat as tears blurred my vision. Liam watched the revenue counter on the stream climb, a satisfied smile on his face. He showed no sign of recognizing the child in the cage as his own flesh and blood. Chloe was on her feet, giving a giddy, play-by-play commentary. The moment the dog’s jaws clamped down on Leo’s calf, his shriek of agony broke through my despair. A surge of adrenaline, of pure maternal fury, gave me impossible strength. I ripped free from the guards’ hold. Liam’s eyes darkened. “She wants to be with her son so badly?” he sneered at the guards. “Let her. Maybe she can help our little champion.” The guards obeyed instantly. One of them opened the cage door and kicked me viciously in the back, sending me sprawling inside. I landed hard, and the dog’s attention immediately shifted to me. It bared its teeth, saliva dripping from its jaws, and stalked toward me. It lunged, aiming for my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the tearing pain. It never came. I heard a pained yelp from the dog, not me. My eyes flew open. Leo, my tiny, wounded son, had thrown himself onto the dog’s back, sinking his teeth deep into its neck. The animal thrashed wildly, its sharp claws raking bloody lines across Leo’s body. Seeing my son covered in blood, a primal power exploded within me. My vision went red. I scrambled up from the floor, my fists clenched, and brought them down on the dog’s head with every ounce of strength I possessed. Once. Twice. The dog went limp, collapsing to the floor in a twitching heap. My knuckles were raw, my arms splattered with blood—I didn’t know if it was the dog’s or my own. I was panting, gasping for air as I pulled Leo into my arms, holding him tight. He trembled violently. He lifted his small face, streaked with blood and tears, and his lips moved, trying to form the word ‘Mama.’ But after so long being trained to be an animal, the ability to speak was gone. All he could produce were pained whimpers and grunts. In that moment, my heart wasn’t just broken; it was annihilated. Outside the cage, Chloe was applauding. “What a touching display of maternal love!” she chirped. “I think having Ava join the streams will be great for ratings!” Liam put his arm around her. “You’re right, Chloe. Since she’s so bad at raising a child, she can be re-educated right along with him.” The livestream chat was a mix of people complaining about losing their bets and others cheering the dramatic turn of events. But one comment stood out: “This is too much. That’s his wife and kid…” Liam saw it, and his brow furrowed. A flicker of doubt crossed his face. Chloe, ever perceptive, caught it immediately. She snuggled into his side, her voice returning to its soft, manipulative tone. “You know, Liam, maybe the training was a little intense today. We have to be scientific about this. Why don’t we let them rest for now?” Looking at her, so seemingly thoughtful and caring, the last ember of Liam’s conscience was extinguished. He looked back at me in the cage, his expression hardening into pure disgust. “See? Chloe knows what she’s doing. She understands the science behind it. If you’d been a better mother, none of this would be necessary.” With that, he ended the stream. He ordered a guard to toss a cheap first-aid kit, a bottle of water, and some bread into the cage, then he turned and left, his arm securely around Chloe, without a single backward glance. I held my trembling son, my own heart bleeding as I used the crude supplies to clean his wounds. I don’t know how much time passed as I rocked Leo, trying to give him some sense of safety. Then, I heard footsteps. Chloe had returned, alone. She stood outside the cage, the mask of sweet concern gone, replaced by a look of undisguised, triumphant malice. She looked down on me as if I were dirt beneath her shoe. “Ava,” she began, her voice dripping with venom, “I want you to know something. I’m going to train your son until he’s nothing more than a feral animal who crawls and howls, a tool to make me rich and famous.” I stared up at her, my eyes burning with hatred. Her smile widened. “And soon enough, you’ll be just like him. A broken thing. A pet, begging for scraps at my feet.” “Why?” I rasped. “Why are you doing this?” I must have hit a nerve. Her face twisted into a mask of pure rage. “Why? Because of you! You and that little bastard! You stole my place as Mrs. Donovan! He stole the place of the rightful heir—my future child!” She laughed, a hysterical, unhinged sound. Leaning down, she pressed her face close to the bars. “Just wait. Tomorrow, you’ll get a front-row seat to see all the wonderful new skills your son has learned.” Chloe walked away, her laughter echoing in the cavernous room. I pulled Leo closer. He wrapped his small arms around me, as if trying to transfer his own tiny spark of strength to me. I had no idea what new hell tomorrow would bring. I could only pray, over and over, a silent mantra in the dark. Rhys, hurry. Please, be fast. Leo finally cried himself to sleep in my arms. It was a fitful, troubled sleep, punctuated by whimpers and sudden jerks. I stroked his hair, my heart aching as I looked at the tear tracks on his dirty face. I didn’t sleep. Early the next morning, the cage door was thrown open. Several guards stormed in, forcefully separating me from Leo. He let out a sharp, animalistic cry, reaching for me as they dragged him away. I fought with everything I had, but they pinned me down easily. A large television screen outside the cage flickered to life, showing a live feed. The image was of Leo, a chain around his neck, being led by Chloe through a public park. He was naked, filthy, walking on all fours like a dog. His eyes were wide with confusion and fear. People stared, pointed, and pulled out their phones to record the horrific spectacle. “What are you looking at?” Chloe snapped at the camera, as if addressing the gawking strangers. “This is a new educational philosophy—re-wilding! We’re helping him connect with his natural instincts! You people just don’t get it!” The scene changed. Leo was now in a more wooded area, skillfully climbing a tree to pick at some unfamiliar berries. Moments later, he was being herded toward a dumpster, forced to scavenge for food amidst rotting garbage. Chloe and Liam provided commentary, praising his “precious survival skills.” Occasionally, a concerned bystander would intervene. “How can you treat a child like that? That’s abuse!” Liam would step forward, wrapping a protective arm around Chloe, and rebut them with sanctimonious pride. “This is our educational philosophy! Primal parenting! Don’t criticize what you don’t understand. Look how strong my son is! How agile! Can your kid do that?” I watched the screen, watching my son stripped of his humanity, and my tears finally ran dry. All that was left was a hollow cavern in my chest, filled with blood and hate. The memories came flooding back, sharp and painful. When I was pregnant, Liam had been so excited. He would press his ear to my belly to listen for movement. He’d been as giddy as a child the first time Leo kicked him. When Leo was born, he held the tiny bundle with trembling hands, his eyes red with emotion, and swore he would give us the world. Back then, his world was me and our son. He was gentle, attentive, perfect. Everything changed when Chloe, his high school sweetheart, came back to town. He started finding fault in everything I did. He started parroting her twisted theories about modern children being “too soft” and needing “primal training.” And I was so stupid. So trusting. I thought it was just a phase, a misguided educational philosophy. I believed that deep down, he still loved his son. I even took his advice and accepted the long-term overseas project, thinking the distance might help us cool down and reconnect… How could I have been so blind? I had personally walked my son into the hell these two monsters created. I hated Chloe for her venom, but I hated Liam more for his betrayal and cruelty. Most of all, I hated myself. It was my failure to see the truth, my lack of vigilance, my absence, that had allowed this to happen. Guilt and fury were devouring me whole. I watched the screen and beat my fists against the bars of my cage. Rhys, please, save us! Just then, the image on the screen shook violently. Liam was raising a whip, but his arm was stopped mid-air, caught in the iron grip of a large hand wearing a tactical glove. The feed cut to black. Less than thirty seconds later, the front door of the villa didn’t open—it exploded inward. Dozens of heavily armed, black-clad soldiers stormed the room. “Hands where I can see them! Now!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386406”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I woke up to a blinding beam of light burning into my retinas. My mother was standing over my bed, shining a high-powered tactical flashlight directly into my eyes. “Mom! What the hell are you doing?” I shielded my face, heart pounding. She let out a breath she’d been holding, her voice tight and unnatural. “Just checking… checking if you stayed up late on your phone.” Before I could argue, she turned and walked out, heading straight for my brother’s room. Worried she was going to start a fight with him, I quietly followed. I watched from the hallway. She stood over Liam’s bed, training that intense beam of light on his face for ten full minutes. Liam didn’t flinch. He didn’t even twitch. He remained in a deep, death-like sleep. Suddenly, Mom pulled a knife from her robe. Without a sound, she raised it and plunged it down toward his chest. “Mom!” I screamed, rushing in to grab her arm just in time. She turned to look at me, her eyes wide and manic, and whispered one sentence: “He stayed up late.” 1 In the dim moonlight, Mom’s expression was terrifyingly paranoid. Even with me gripping her arm, she refused to drop the knife. My mind was racing. I glanced at the bed. Liam was still lying there, eyes closed, expression peaceful. That flashlight was industrial strength. It was bright enough to wake the dead. Yet Liam hadn’t moved a muscle. There was only one explanation: He was pretending to sleep. But Mom had just tried to stab him. How could he keep pretending through that? I dragged Mom out of Liam’s room and down the hall. “Mom, are you okay? You need to sleep. You’re exhausted.” Since Dad died in that factory accident six months ago, our family had collapsed. The burden fell entirely on Mom, and I watched her wither away day by day. I was terrified she was finally snapping. Suddenly, she leaned in close, her voice a frantic whisper. “Maya, listen to me. That thing in there… it’s not your brother.” Her hair was a mess, her face pale as a sheet. “Haven’t you noticed? Liam is a completely different person. He’s been replaced by a monster.” That was the first time I heard the word—Mimic. According to Mom, a Mimic is a creature that silently replaces a human, slowly evolving to perfectly imitate the host’s personality. She didn’t know how they parasitized people, but she claimed there was only one way to identify them: Shine a strong light in their eyes while they sleep. If they don’t wake up, they are a Mimic. By the end of her explanation, she was sobbing. That attempt in the bedroom had drained all her strength. Even if I let go of her now, she wouldn’t have the energy to hurt him. I felt a chill run down my spine, mixed with pity. Logic told me my mother was sick. Mentally ill. I didn’t believe in “Mimics,” but I had to admit—Liam had changed. My brother used to be the typical spoiled golden child. He was selfish, had a short fuse, and treated Mom like a servant. He barely acknowledged my existence. But recently? He’d become gentle, polite. He stopped getting into fights at school, his grades shot up from D’s to straight A’s, and he quit gaming to help around the house. I was happy about the change. Mom was terrified. Every time she saw him doing chores, she’d scream at him, saying this wasn’t what her son did. I realized then: It wasn’t just grief. She was terrified her son was gone. I sighed, speaking gently. “Mom, isn’t it possible Liam just grew up? Being the first one to see Dad’s accident… that kind of trauma changes people.” 2 My parents both worked at a chemical plant just outside of town. Six months ago, Mom was hospitalized for surgery. I was away at college. Dad was stuck watching Liam. To keep him out of trouble, Dad made Liam come to the factory after school to do homework in the breakroom. One day, Liam tried to sneak out. Dad caught him and chased him onto a catwalk. Dad stepped on a rusted grate. It gave way. Liam watched his father fall into a vat of high-concentration chemical waste. He heard the screams. He watched him struggle and die. When they fished Dad out, he looked… wrong. The chemicals had reacted with his skin. He looked pale, smooth, and rubbery. Like a silicone doll. Liam had a high fever for three days after that. When he woke up, he was a different person. It made sense for Liam to change. But Mom? She hadn’t cried much. Instead, she became paranoid. I spent hours convincing her to see a doctor. Finally, I broke down. “Mom, please. Dad is gone. It’s just us now. If something happens to you, what happens to me and Liam? Please.” She stared at me for a long time before reaching out a trembling hand to wipe my tears. “Okay. You’re all I have left. I’ll go.” The next morning, I was woken up by the sound of cooking. Anxious about last night, I rushed to the kitchen. Liam was already up, making pancakes. Mom was sitting at the table, smiling. She smiled at me. “Maya, you won’t believe what your brother did.” “What?” I asked, relieved to see her calm. “He’s been working a secret part-time job to buy you a new laptop for your graphic design classes! Look at him, he’s so tired he fell asleep standing up.” I was shocked. “Liam? Working for me?” Liam ducked his head, smiling shyly. “I saw your old one crashing all the time. I just want to help.” This redemption arc was almost too perfect. Mom was looking at him lovingly, giving him instructions for the day. But then I noticed her eyes. There was no warmth in them. She wasn’t looking at his face. She was staring at his throat. And then I saw it. Liam was eating with his left hand. Was he always left-handed? I couldn’t remember. Noticing my gaze, Liam flashed me a stiff smile. When I blinked, the fork was back in his right hand. Was I hallucinating? After breakfast, Mom stood up. “Didn’t you say we were going to the doctor?” “Right,” I said. “Appointment’s at ten.” We walked out of the house. About five minutes down the road, Mom stopped dead. She turned to me, the mask of sanity crumbling. Her voice shook. “You saw it too, right?” 3 “Saw what?” “I watched him while he ate,” she whispered. “Every single bite. No matter what he put in his mouth… he chewed exactly twenty times. Not nineteen. Not twenty-one. Twenty. Every. Single. Time.” My nerves were already frayed. I fought the urge to scream. “Mom, stop it. Maybe he has OCD! Does chewing twenty times make him a monster?” She looked at me with profound disappointment. “You don’t believe me. That’s fine. I’ll prove it to you.” We drove to the psychiatric center in silence. Two hours later, the doctor came out, looking exhausted. “Maya, the preliminary results are in. Your mother is suffering from delusional disorder, specifically Capgras syndrome—the belief that a loved one has been replaced by an imposter. It’s accompanied by severe anxiety.” I let out a long exhale. Thank god. It was an illness. Not a sci-fi nightmare. Just an illness. “We strongly suggest inpatient care,” the doctor continued. “Her delusions are fixed and potentially dangerous. We need to stabilize her in a safe environment.” “Yes,” I nodded quickly. “Let’s admit her.” The doctor added, “Don’t blame yourself. We’ve seen a spike in these cases lately. Extreme stress, grief… the mind breaks in strange ways.” We processed the paperwork. Mom sat on the hospital bed, quiet as a porcelain doll. I took her hand. “Mom, listen to the doctors. Get some rest. When you’re better, Liam and I will take you home.” Her eyes slowly focused on mine. The look in them was unreadable. Suddenly, she gripped my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. “Maya. Be careful of Liam. You have to be careful. That thing is not your brother. If you don’t believe me… look in my closet. Under the clothes.” Her voice rasped with terrifying intensity. “I know,” I lied, pulling away. “Rest now.” I fled the room. As I waited for the elevator, I heard screaming from an office down the hall. “Doctor, please! That is NOT my daughter! She’s been replaced!” I froze. “My daughter is a neurosurgeon at Johns Hopkins! She’s brilliant! But that thing sitting in the lobby can’t even do basic math! She just repeats what people say to her!” The doctor’s voice was calm, soothing. “Ma’am, trauma can cause cognitive regression…” “She’s not sick! She’s hollow! It’s a shell! Why won’t you believe me?!” I stumbled into the elevator and mashed the button. The woman’s screams echoed in my head, mixing with my mother’s warnings. If Mimics were real… would Mom be the only sane one left? I got home. Liam was mopping the floor. “How is she?” he asked gently. “She has to stay for a while,” I said. “Don’t worry, Sis. It’s just stress. We’ll take care of things until she’s better.” It was the most mature thing he’d ever said. I felt zero comfort. At dinner, I couldn’t eat. I stared at his mouth. One. Two… Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Swallow. “Sis? Why are you staring at me?” “Nothing. Eat.” I counted again. Fifteen… Twenty. Twenty. Twenty. My back was soaked in cold sweat. Later that night, I was working on some designs. Liam was gaming. I reached for my stack of scratch paper. It was gone. “Liam, did you take my scratch paper?” He turned his head. Instantly. It was too fast. Not a human reaction time. His eyes didn’t blink. “Oh, yeah. I took it to school by mistake. I’ll go buy you more right now.” He stood up, grabbed his phone, and walked out the door without a second of hesitation. I was alone. I put down my pen. I walked into Mom’s bedroom. 4 I looked under her pillow first. I found a book. The Guide to Identifying Mimics. But the pages were torn and chewed up. Only the cover remained intact. I suppressed the shiver running down my spine and went to the closet. I pulled the handle. The closet wasn’t filled with clothes. It was stacked, floor to ceiling, with flashlights. Rows and rows of identical, high-powered tactical flashlights. Hundreds of glass lenses staring at me like dead eyes. I stepped back, terrified. How many nights had she stood here, staring at these lights, picking one out to test us? Scritch. Scratch. A strange sound came from the kitchen. Mice? No, we kept the house spotless. My heart dropped. Liam? I grabbed a flashlight from the closet and walked toward the kitchen on legs that felt like jelly. The door was ajar. I pushed it open just a crack. Under the pale moonlight, a familiar figure was squatting on the floor, back to me. His shoulders were moving rhythmically. Scritch… crunch… I watched, numb with horror. My brother was eating my scratch paper. He was shoving sheets of white paper into his mouth, chewing them with gusto, swallowing them dry. Suddenly, he stopped. He turned around slowly. A wet, half-chewed piece of paper was stuck to his teeth. His eyes were dead calm. “Sis. Sorry. I ate your paper. I’ll buy more tomorrow.” “…It’s okay,” I croaked. He paused, as if buffering, then said seriously, “It’s Pica. An eating disorder caused by stress. Common in adolescents.” I knew what Pica was. But a normal person would be embarrassed. They would hide it. He explained it like he was reading from a dictionary. I took a deep breath. “Okay. Just… keep it down.” I walked back to my room. Behind me, the chewing sound started again. 5 I lay in bed for two hours. I heard Liam finish his “meal” and go to his room. I waited another hour. I took the flashlight and walked into Liam’s room, just like Mom did. I turned it on max brightness and shone it directly into his eyes. I expected him not to wake up. But a few seconds later, his eyes snapped open. “Sis? What are you doing?” “Checking if you’re on your phone,” I said automatically. “Does having eyes open mean I’m on my phone?” he asked, genuinely confused. “Yes.” He seemed to process this. Then he asked, “Sis, do you think I’m acting weird lately?” You think? “I’m just under so much pressure. Keeping this secret…” He sat up. “Sis. Mom killed Dad.” My brain short-circuited. “What the hell are you talking about?” “I was there. I brought Dad his lunch. I was hiding behind a vat. Mom… she wasn’t in the hospital. She was there. Dad was checking a pipe. She pushed him.” His voice was monotone. “When Dad fell in, he grabbed the edge. Mom squatted down and pried his fingers off. One by one.” The description was so precise it made me want to vomit. “Stop it!” Liam went silent. He lay back down, staring at me while the flashlight burned into his retinas. He didn’t blink. “You’re crazy. Mom wouldn’t do that. The police ruled it an accident.” Liam smiled. A perfect, empty smile. “Ask her. Go ask Mom. Okay, Sis?” “Okay.” The next morning, I was standing by Mom’s hospital bed. “Mom, how did Dad really die?” I expected her to get angry, or deny it. Instead, she looked at me, her voice calm. “I killed him.” My blood ran cold. First Mom says Liam is a monster. Then Liam says Mom is a murderer. Who is the monster? Who is lying? “I killed him,” she repeated. “Because he begged me to.” “What?” Mom’s eyes were hollow. “He found out. He found out he was… turning into one of them. He begged me to end it before he was gone completely.” She looked at me. “He said it was the only way to protect us.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386422”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day Caleb Sterling was about to exchange wedding rings with me, his “depressed” stepsister called. “Caleb… my wrist is bleeding so much. My Prince is gone, and now the Little Mermaid has to turn into sea foam and sleep forever in the deep ocean…” “Will you think of me when you look at the sea, Caleb?” Caleb’s hand, which had been holding mine tightly, suddenly went slack. His voice trembled. “Bella, tell me where you are. I’ll watch the ocean with you, okay?” “Don’t do anything stupid. I’m coming right now.” He hung up, his eyes turning to me with that familiar, apologetic look. “Bella is unstable again. I have to go find her.” “Let’s reschedule the wedding, okay?” “No!” I grabbed Caleb’s sleeve tightly, ignoring the confused whispers of the guests below. I questioned him, my voice bordering on hysteria. “Are you the only psychiatrist in the world? Why does she try to kill herself every single time we get married?” “This is the ninety-ninth time, Caleb. Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, changing doctors would actually help her?” Caleb’s dark eyes instantly turned sharp. His thin lips pressed into a line of displeasure. He looked at me coldly, as if I were the one being unreasonable. Bella was his trigger. Untouchable. Sacred. 01 I couldn’t help but think back to the first time I met Bella. She had stolen a handmade charm bracelet Caleb made for me. Before I could even get angry, Caleb stepped in front of her like a knight in shining armor, explaining on her behalf: “Bella developed kleptomania because of her depression. Don’t blame her.” “I’ll make you another one exactly like it later. Since Bella likes this one, just let her have it.” I opened my mouth to say that there are no two handmade items exactly alike in this world. I wanted to ask, If Bella likes you, do I have to let her have you, too? But I couldn’t say a word. I’m a normal person. How could I argue with a clinically depressed patient? While Caleb went upstairs to get her antidepressants, Bella, who looked somewhat like me, smirked with triumph. “You’re just a cheap knockoff of me. Caleb only picked you because he can’t cross that moral line. He can’t bring himself to touch me.” “He studied psychology just for me. I will always be first in his heart. You can never compete with me. Giggle.” She curved her eyes into a sweet smile, looking nothing like a patient with severe depression. Looking at Bella, I vaguely guessed why Caleb had fallen for me at first sight and pursued me so relentlessly. I smiled politely, gently reminding her of boundaries. “Of course. After all, you and Caleb are legally siblings on the family trust.” As long as they were legal siblings, and as long as Caleb’s old-fashioned, strict father was alive, he would never allow anything beyond a sibling relationship. When Mr. Sterling found the love letters Bella wrote to Caleb, the first thing he did was try to force Bella to legally change her last name to Sterling to solidify the sibling bond. Bella went on a hunger strike, took pills, and threatened to jump into the ocean. She refused. Mr. Sterling was a tyrant who never compromised. It wasn’t until Caleb introduced me to his father that the old man finally dropped the name-change issue. Rich families like the Sterlings care about reputation above all else. Hearing my words, Bella’s face suddenly changed. She lost control, grabbed a glass from the table, and smashed it violently against the coffee table. Crash. Glass flew everywhere, slicing long, bloody gashes into her palm. Startled, I instinctively took a few steps back. But Bella, as if she couldn’t feel pain, laughed wildly and recklessly. “Guess what? Will Caleb blame you for not taking good care of me?” 02 The next second, panicked footsteps thundered down the stairs. Caleb rushed down and slammed into me, knocking me to the floor. “Why weren’t you watching her?” He quickly scooped Bella into his arms, carefully placing her on the sofa to tend to her wounds. His eyes were cold as he interrogated me. “Don’t you know she has severe depression? She has suicidal tendencies at any moment!” My palms were pierced by the glass shards on the floor, stinging sharply, but I didn’t dare say a word, terrified of triggering Bella again. Bella hooked her arms around Caleb’s neck, burying her face in his chest. She sobbed and whined in a baby voice, unable to hide the smugness in her tone. “Caleb… it hurts so much. Bella hurts.” Caleb sighed. The look he gave her was full of heartache. He gently wiped the tears from her face, held her injured hand, and softly blew on the wound. “I’ll blow on it, and the pain will fly away. Bella is the best girl.” In that moment, Caleb didn’t even notice that I was bleeding profusely on the floor. I kept comforting myself. Because Bella is sick, it’s only right that Caleb pays more attention to her. But later, Caleb’s first choice was always Bella. Bella threatened suicide ninety-nine times. And he abandoned me ninety-nine times. In the silent, deep mountains; in the biting winds of a blizzard; on the busy highway; in the desolate suburbs late at night; at the weddings we tried to hold over and over again… Because of Bella’s depression, every time Caleb left me to find her, I had no right to say “no.” This time, I really didn’t want to compromise. No matter what Caleb said, I held onto his sleeve, refusing to let go. Because last night, the System warned me repeatedly. If Caleb abandoned me for Bella one more time, my mission would be a failure. And I would be erased. To help me let go of my moral burdens and fight Bella with everything I had, the System even secretly told me: Bella’s depression is fake. She would never actually kill herself. Caleb looked anxious. “Bella is my sister. I can’t just ignore her.” “Besides, I’m a doctor. I have to be responsible for my patients. We can have a wedding any day, but if something happens to Bella today, my conscience will never be clear.” “I promise, next time, I’ll give you a perfect wedding.” I shook my head, my voice raspy. “Caleb, if you leave this time, there won’t be a next time.” Caleb’s patience finally ran out. He forcefully pried my fingers off his sleeve. His handsome brows furrowed, and his tone grew colder. “I will marry you, and I must save Bella. These two things don’t conflict. Why do you have to be so difficult?” “This is a matter of life and death. Do you have to be so unreasonable right now?” The atmosphere froze. Mocking gazes from the guests shot at me from all directions. I opened my mouth, wanting to tell him that Bella was faking it, that she wouldn’t die. But I couldn’t get the words out. The System said I couldn’t tell Caleb what it told me. That counts as cheating the mission. I opened my mouth again, wanting to tell Caleb the truth about me. If you leave, I will die. But before I could speak, Caleb’s phone rang again. He answered it, gently comforting Bella on the other end. Then, without hesitation, he abandoned me. He left without looking back. The next second, the System’s cold, mechanical voice rang out: “Host, your mission has failed.” “You may freely choose your method of death.” “After you die, you will be sent back to your original world.” Back to my original world? Suddenly, that sounded wonderful. In my original world, I was terminally ill, but at least I had my mom who loved me. In this world, aside from a healthy body, I truly had nothing. I thought for a moment and said to the System: “Then let me fall into actual severe depression and die at Caleb’s hands.” I’m going to die anyway. I want Caleb, the professional psychiatrist, to see what real severe depression looks like. Because it definitely doesn’t look like Bella. 03 After Caleb left, the wedding turned into chaos. I didn’t force a smile to see off the guests like I usually did. I just watched coldly as Caleb’s stepmother—Bella’s mom—cried and accused Mr. Sterling. “Are you trying to force Bella to her death? You know how much she loves Caleb!” “If anything happens to Bella, I won’t live either! Let’s see if your Sterling family reputation matters more than me and Bella!” After that, she glared at me and spat viciously: “You shameless bitch!” Then she stormed off angrily. As if I were the mistress interfering in Caleb and Bella’s relationship. But clearly, she was the mistress who climbed the social ladder and drove Caleb’s biological mother to suicide. Unfortunately, the System told me that secret too, so I couldn’t tell Caleb. Otherwise, I would have loved to see his face if he knew the sister he doted on was the daughter of the woman who killed his mother. Mr. Sterling sighed and came over to shake my hand. “You’ve suffered, Chloe. Bella’s illness will be cured one day. Just endure it a little longer.” I pulled my hand back numbly and nodded, feeling nothing. Caleb had said the same thing to me countless times. Every time we fought about Bella, he would tell me to endure it, not to argue with a sick person. Before, I would get angry, sad, despairing. But today, I just didn’t care. The System said severe depression is like this. It robs you of normal emotions, strips away your will to live, leaving only endless pain and a resolve to die. I asked the System, puzzled: “Bella’s depression is so different from mine. Caleb is a professional. Why can’t he see she’s faking it?” The System was silent for a long time before saying: “How do you know Caleb doesn’t see it?” My breath hitched. If Caleb knew all along that Bella was faking… Then he was just using her “depression” as an excuse to spoil her limitlessly, to force me to give in, allowing Bella to cross boundary after boundary without consequence. Lies don’t hurt. The truth is the sharpest knife. A stinging pain, like thousands of needles, pricked my heart. I walked through the noisy crowd in a daze and went home. I signed the organ donation papers, swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills, and curled up under the covers to wait for death. Dying means I can go home and see Mom. People who really want to die do it quietly, alone. They don’t broadcast it to the world like Bella. 04 In my haze, the phone rang. I picked it up. It was Bella’s chirpy voice: “Caleb, what brand is your mattress? It’s so comfy.” Heh. So Bella was in our marital home. Sleeping in the wedding bed I hadn’t even slept in yet. My stomach churned violently. “Your sister-in-law bought the mattress. I don’t know.” “Don’t lie on it. Chloe hasn’t even slept there yet. She’ll be angry if she finds out.” “Caleb, have you slept with her yet?” Caleb was silent for a long time before answering honestly: “No.” “Heehee, I knew it. You don’t love that clingy bitch at all.” “If you really loved her, how could you hold back for so long?” I vaguely remembered the many times Caleb and I got carried away. But every time, right at the last step, Caleb would push me away, panting, stroking my hair, saying he wanted to save the most precious memory for our wedding night. I thought he cherished me. Turns out, he was keeping himself pure for Bella. Disgusted, I was about to hang up. The next second, the sound of kissing and soft panting came through. Bella’s voice, thick with lust, came in broken gasps: “Caleb… please… please don’t push me away… If you push me away again, my depression will flare up… I’ll jump…” Caleb’s usually cool voice was husky: “Bella, I’m getting married. I can only be your brother. Do you understand?” “Brother, stop lying to yourself. This house is decorated entirely to my taste.” We fought so many times about the renovation. Our tastes were polar opposites. We fought until we almost broke up. Finally, exhausted, I gave in. I let Caleb decorate it his way. I didn’t realize “his way” was actually Bella’s way. “Do you dare touch my heart and swear you’ve never had feelings for me? If you dare to swear, I promise I’ll never pester you again.” Bella took a deep breath, waiting confidently for his answer. And on the other end of the line, I waited too. I wanted to know. In five years together, did Caleb treat me as a placeholder for Bella the whole time? I waited through a long, heavy silence. The last shred of hope in my heart quietly extinguished. So, all those moments I thought were beautiful… I was just delusional. Finally, Bella’s explicit seduction broke the silence. “Let me be your first woman, okay? I really want to see what you look like when you lose control…” Caleb sounded like he was rejecting her, but barely: “Stop it! This is my wedding house!” Bella giggled. “Doesn’t that make it more exciting?” Listening to their ambiguity. My brain was a mess. I started spiraling, imagining what he and Bella did during all those late nights he abandoned me. Uncontrollably, I dry heaved. I swear I heard Bella chuckle triumphantly. As if showing off that she had beaten me again. The next moment, Caleb’s panicked voice came through: “Chloe? Listen to me, it’s not what you think!” I let out a desperate, cold laugh. “Then what is it?!” “It’s a long story. Wait there, I’m coming to explain…” “Get lost! You make me sick!” Before he could speak, I used my last bit of strength to hang up and block him. My limbs were turning cold. My eyelids felt heavy. I sank into a chaotic darkness. I thought I saw my mom, younger, wearing that yellowed apron, speaking in her gentle dialect, standing at the alleyway entrance waving to me while I played in the mud: “My sweet girl, come home and wash your hands for dinner.” … In the final moment before losing consciousness completely. I heard frantic knocking on the door. “Chloe! Open the door! I can really explain!” It was Caleb. Too bad. Too late. I’m dying. Driven to severe depression by him and Bella, killing myself right in front of this esteemed psychiatrist. When he thinks of me in the future, will he regret it? Will he feel guilty?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386438”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I will die at 2:40 AM today. The killer is a man wearing a black hood. Calling the police, hiding, running away, offering money—nothing works. He finds me every time with uncanny precision, then cleanly ends my life. Trapped in the 31st loop of this death day, I finally manage to rip off his hood during our struggle. But under the hood, the face I see is my own. An older, wearier version of me, aged by over a decade. He looks at me, his voice hoarse: “Chen Mo, get out of the way.” 1 My name is Chen Mo. I am an incredibly ordinary convenience store clerk working the night shift. After graduating from college and failing to find a “real” job, I ended up here, in this suburban 24-hour store, just to make ends meet. No family, no friends, not even a pet. That’s probably why no one has noticed I’ve died thirty times. The first time I woke up in the loop, I thought it was a dream, until the searing pain of a blade slicing my skin pulled me back to reality. The second time, I tried to call the police, but the landline was dead, and my cell signal mysteriously vanished. The third time, I hid behind the shelves, but the robber found me effortlessly, as if he knew exactly where I’d be. The fourth time, I grabbed the biggest wine bottle I could find to fight back. He dodged it easily, and the blade pierced my heart just the same. Ten times, twenty times, thirty times… every death was despairingly real. I tried everything: running out the front door only to be intercepted, hiding in the bathroom and being dragged out, playing dead only to be stabbed anyway. I even piled all the cash on the counter. He ignored the money and killed me. The robber’s movements were too precise for an ordinary criminal. He knew every inch of the store like the back of his hand. It was as if he had rehearsed this countless times. This wasn’t a robbery; it was an execution. Why me? Why this store? Why must I die over and over again, only to wake up standing in front of the freezer? Tonight, for the 31st loop, I decided to change my strategy. I would memorize every detail about him. Every movement, every habit. If I can’t stop my death, at least I need to know why I’m dying. 2 Time ticked away. I stood by the freezer, forcing myself to be calm. The loop gave me one advantage: I could predict the immediate future. The robber would enter through the back door, take five steps to the corner of the aisle, then eight steps to the register, and lunges straight for me. He walked with a slight drag in his right foot—maybe an old injury, or just a habit. He always held the knife the same way: left hand in his pocket, right hand holding the blade, edge down—a classic ambush stance. He never spoke. He never took the money. His target was always, only, me. I took out the store’s inventory notebook and quickly jotted down these observations, even though I knew the writing would vanish in the next loop. 2:39 AM. I quietly shifted my position, standing to the side of the register instead of directly behind it. 2:40 AM. A faint noise from the back door… he’s here. I held my breath, pretending to organize the shelves while watching the back entrance out of the corner of my eye. The shadow arrived on schedule. Familiar footsteps, familiar path. But this time, I noticed more. There seemed to be a scar on his left wrist, visible only when his sleeve shifted. He was about my height and build, but his movements were sharper, more decisive. As he approached the counter and realized I wasn’t in my usual spot, he paused for a split second. Now! I grabbed the fire extinguisher I had prepared and sprayed it directly at him. He clearly didn’t expect this. He hesitated for a moment, but then reacted with shocking speed. He dodged sideways, evading most of the spray. That wasn’t a normal human reaction time! Still, the extinguisher bought me a few precious seconds. I dropped it and grabbed the mop next to the counter, charging at him. This was the first time I initiated the attack instead of waiting to die. Amidst the white powder, we grappled. I could feel his strength and technique far surpassed mine. But I had resolve—fueled by the anger and experience of thirty deaths. During a dodge, I saw his sleeve slip again. The scar was clearer now. It was a surgical scar, located precisely over the radial artery. Why did that detail feel so familiar? Before I could process it, the robber regrouped. The blade came at me again. This time, my death was more painful than ever, but I was closer to the truth than ever before. 3 I opened my eyes in front of the freezer again. But this time, the fear was gone. I had a plan. I had a direction. 2:37 AM. I walked straight to the security room and pulled up the camera feeds. I had ignored this before. The store had six cameras; maybe they caught something I missed. The room was tiny, just an old monitor split into six grainy screens. It was enough. I fast-forwarded through yesterday’s footage and noticed something strange. Starting at 2:00 AM, the feed would occasionally jitter or show static, like signal interference. Even stranger, at 2:40 AM, the moment the robber entered, all cameras blacked out for exactly one second. That couldn’t be a coincidence. I switched to the live feed. 2:39 AM. The back door camera caught a shadow lingering outside. He was here. I picked up the landline in the security room and dialed the police. “Hello? South City Convenience Store. A robbery is in progress. Please send someone immediately!” There was a second of silence, then a calm female voice: “What is your specific address?” I rattled off the address while staring at the screen. The figure had pried open the back door and was slipping inside. “Police will arrive in five minutes. Please stay safe.” Five minutes? I didn’t have five minutes. Watching the robber get closer on the screen, I had an idea. There was a panic button in the security room connected to the local precinct. I smashed the red button. A piercing alarm shrieked through the store. On the monitor, the robber flinched, clearly startled. But instead of running, he moved faster. He knew he was running out of time. I grabbed the security baton and hid behind the door. The moment he burst into the room, I swung with everything I had. Whack! The baton hit his shoulder. He stumbled back two steps. First time I had the upper hand. While he was off balance, I swung again, hitting his head. The black hood loosened, revealing a tuft of graying hair. My heart pounded. Finally, I would see the face of the butcher who had tortured me for thirty loops. Seizing his moment of instability, I lunged forward and ripped the hood off. It was a face I knew intimately, yet weathered by time. It was me, but fifteen years older! Sunken eyes, exhausted gaze, a scar on the forehead… even the mole on the chin was identical. The future me looked at me with grim determination: “Don’t get in the way, Chen Mo!” His voice was hoarse, but it was undeniably mine, just worn down by years. I stepped back in shock. “You… you’re me? Why do you want to kill me?” “Our daughter has a rare blood disease. If I don’t get the money… Chen Xi… won’t make it!” Daughter? I don’t even have a girlfriend. How could I have a daughter? Before I could ask, the future me raised the knife, his eyes filled with despair. “I’m sorry. But this is the only way she lives.” As the blade pierced my chest, my brain was still reeling. The robber was my future self. 4 Waking up in front of the freezer again, my heart hammered—not from fear, but shock. The name Chen Xi echoed in my mind. My daughter? My future daughter? Why would my future self go to such lengths, even killing his past self, to save her? 2:20 AM. I sat at the register and opened the store computer. I couldn’t just wait to die. I needed to know more. I searched “Chen Xi” + “Rare Blood Disease.” Too many results. I searched “Extremely expensive blood disease treatments.” Several possibilities popped up. The most severe was a rare genetic condition called “Heiman-Faber Syndrome.” Less than 500 confirmed cases worldwide. Treatment costs could easily exceed a million dollars. Was this it? But even so, why kill his past self? Robbing a convenience store for a few thousand bucks wouldn’t solve a million-dollar problem. Unless… it wasn’t just about money. I searched “Time Travel” + “Ethical Issues” + “Paradoxes,” skimming through sci-fi and physics discussions. 2:39 AM. I shut down the computer and stood behind the counter, waiting for him. This time, I wouldn’t run. I wouldn’t fight. I was going to talk. When the black figure entered from the back, I spoke immediately: “Chen Xi has Heiman-Faber Syndrome, doesn’t she?” His steps faltered, but he recovered quickly and kept coming. “I know who you are. I know why you’re here,” I continued. “But killing me won’t help. We should figure this out together.” The future me stopped. Through the hood, I felt his burning gaze. “You know nothing. It’s too late. There is no other way.” “At least tell me the truth!” I shouted. “Why this store? Why tonight? Why must I die?” He didn’t answer, just kept advancing. I noticed he occasionally clutched his chest while walking. It wasn’t just his daughter; he was sick too. “You’re ill too, aren’t you?” I probed. That stopped him. He pulled off the hood. That face—so like mine, yet so full of pain—stared back. “Listen, past me. There are things you will never understand unless you live through what I have,” he said. “Chen Xi needs a bone marrow transplant. But our marrow doesn’t match anymore because…” He suddenly grabbed his chest, doubling over in pain. I stepped forward to help, but he instantly raised the knife, warning me back. “Because of what?” I pressed. “Because time travel changed me. It changed everything.” He gritted his teeth, pulled the hood back on, and charged. As I died this time, my mind was filled with heartache for a daughter I had never met. 5 Waking up again, confusion was gone. Only resolve remained. I had to find a third way. A way for Chen Xi to live without sacrificing either “me.” 1:30 AM. I left the register and started scouring the store for clues. Why did he choose this store? Why this time? There had to be a reason I missed. I checked every shelf, every drawer. I even lifted the floor tiles under the counter. 2:20 AM. Deep in a locker in the staff break room, I found a small safe. I had never seen this safe before. It wasn’t standard store equipment. I tried every code I could think of: my birthday, the last four digits of my ID, even Chen Xi’s initials. Nothing worked. 2:35 AM. I gave up on the safe and returned to the counter, ready to face him again. Maybe I could get more info tonight. 2:40 AM. The footsteps arrived. In this struggle, I noticed he seemed more desperate, his movements rougher. During a grapple, a worn locket fell from his collar. I seized the chance, grabbed the locket, and backed away. He panicked, reaching for it, but I was too fast. I opened it. Inside was a blurry photo of a little girl. She was about six or seven, with my eyes and nose, smiling innocently. Chen Xi. On the back of the photo, a date was scratched in with a fingernail: April 23, 2035. I looked up in shock. “You’re from ten years in the future?!” He didn’t deny it. Painfully, he said, “That’s the day she died. Unless we change the past.” Died? Before I could ask more, he snatched the locket back and drove the knife into my chest. This time, death came with a terrifying realization. He wasn’t just trying to save her life. He was trying to undo a tragedy that had already happened. In subsequent loops, I tried leaving messages. I taped a note under the counter: I know about Chen Xi. I want to help. Please don’t kill me. Let’s work together. 2:40 AM. He came in, saw the note, ripped it up without hesitation, and killed me. Next time, I wrote on the break room mirror in lipstick: For Chen Xi, we must cooperate. He ignored it and rushed the counter. I left a video message on the computer screen. He glanced at it, turned it off, and killed me. Why was he so stubborn? Had he tried everything in his timeline and concluded this was the only way? In one loop, I noticed an anomaly. The store lights began to flicker irregularly. Strange, crack-like shadows flashed on the walls. At first, I thought it was the wiring. But I realized it only happened around the time he appeared. Even stranger, the future me seemed to notice it too. Every time the lights flickered, he moved faster, as if racing against time. Was this a warning?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386087”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When the Doppelgangers invaded, I awakened the “Human Mimic System.” The rules were simple: Do something irrational, and I’d earn Mimic Points. These points could upgrade my body parts, allowing me to perform horrific feats—like popping my eyeballs out of their sockets. One day, a group of Doppelgangers gathered, whispering, “I feel like there’s a human hiding among us.” 1 I’m a horror game junkie. Escape rooms, puzzle solvers, battle royales, spotting the imposter—you name it, I’ve played it. Everyone knows the lore: Doppelgangers mimic, kill, and replace humans. Of course, I never thought I’d see one in real life. It was Saturday, and I was trying to activate my new system. This “cheat code” had been in my head for a week, but I hadn’t figured out how to use it. Today, I decided to stalk a random dog. Would stalking a stray dog count as “irrational behavior”? I had no idea. As I walked out of the campus gate, something felt off. A cold gaze followed me, but I couldn’t pinpoint the source. As long as it wasn’t PETA, I was fine. Shaking off my paranoia, I stuck to the plan. I picked a stray mutt on the street and started following it. If you’ve ever been chased by a dog, you know the drill: you walk past, it watches. You run, it barks and chases. Today, the roles were reversed. The dog stopped; I stopped. The dog walked; I walked. The poor thing kept looking back, clearly terrified. Ding. The system chime rang in my head. [Mimic Points +10. A Doppelganger witnessed this event and experienced a cognitive error.] [Note: The entity chasing the dog is your imitator.] [Doppelganger Exposure +50.] [When Exposure reaches 100, you will assimilate the Doppelganger.] A chill ran down my spine. Doppelgangers were real. This was definitely not good news. Imagine the anxiety of realizing everything around you is unpredictable. In games, I’ve accidentally let Doppelgangers into safe zones, leading to gruesome massacres. They could be your friends, your neighbors, your RA, your roommate… Terrifying. In games, you can reload a save. In reality, you can’t. Especially now, when the news of the invasion hasn’t broken yet. How many of them are there? No one knows. Putting aside my fear, I had to deal with the imitator first. To do that, I needed to keep racking up Mimic Points. As the dog whimpered and ran away with its tail between its legs, I dumped all 10 points into the “Brain” stat. [Brain +10. You will generate more “human-like” ideas.] A spark of inspiration hit me—I was going to get a manicure for a chicken foot. Wait, that idea made me blush instantly. I should have put 5 points into “Thick Skin.” This was going to be social suicide. With a heavy heart, I bought three braised chicken feet. I accidentally ate two on the way. Resisting the urge to eat the last one, I clutched it in my hand. I scanned the people around me. Do I need new glasses? Why haven’t I spotted the Doppelganger yet? I walked into a nail salon, holding the chicken foot. I took a deep breath. “Hi, can you give my chicken foot a manicure?” The nail tech looked at me blankly, question marks practically floating above her head. Oh god, I wanted to dig a hole and die. After adding, “I’ll pay extra,” she reluctantly agreed. The mechanical voice rang again: [Mimic Points +10. A Doppelganger witnessed this event. Cognitive error deepening.] [Note: The entity manicuring the chicken foot is your imitator.] [Doppelganger Exposure +50. Total Exposure: 100.] [When you identify the Doppelganger, you will wear its skin.] So it’s basically a skin system? I walked out of the salon holding a glamorized chicken foot. The sun felt exceptionally hot today, burning my face. It felt like my face had been upgraded and reinforced. The nail tech did her best, but my wallet was empty. If my boyfriend didn’t bring me breakfast, I was at risk of eating grass for the next two weeks. Worst case scenario, I could try dumpster diving. Ignoring my wandering thoughts, I dumped the new 10 points into “Eyes.” [Eyes +10. Eye adjustability increased. You can slightly control pupil color, bloodshot level, pupil size, and detachment.] My eyelid twitched. I thought it would boost observation skills. These upgrades were getting weird. At this rate, I wouldn’t know who was more like a Doppelganger—me or them. I opened my front-facing camera. Under my control, red veins crept across my whites, making me look sleep-deprived. Not enough. I tried turning the whole eye white. Just a pale glaze, not quite horror movie level. Shrinking the pupils? Still not pinpoint enough. I needed more points to make it useful. More importantly, I realized something: I only got points when a Doppelganger was watching. Identifying it immediately might be a mistake. I should farm it for points. A new idea popped into my head: “Take a cat to the vet for neutering, then lie on the operating table myself.” I really should have put those 5 points into Thick Skin. After capturing a stray tabby, I dragged it to the vet clinic. “Hi, do you do neutering here?” The cat in my arms started squirming, sensing danger. The nurse nodded and smiled. “Yes, we do.” I put the cat down, kept a straight face, and climbed onto the examination table. “Please neuter me!” The nurse’s eyes widened. Even the cat looked confused. She blurted out, “Huh?” System prompt: [Mimic Points +20. Your behavior has completely distorted the imitator.] [Doppelganger Exposure +100. Note: It is now purple with confusion.] 2 Under the nurse’s “calling the psych ward” gaze, I rolled off the table. Walking out of the clinic felt like escaping death. Social death is still death. That was terrifying. I almost clawed through the floor with my toes. She even patiently explained why she couldn’t do it, which made me even more ashamed. Taking a deep breath, I noticed the sky was getting dark. I immediately spotted someone casually following a dog. As expected, she was the Doppelganger mimicking me. Looking closely, she did resemble me. In dim light, she would be my twin. Seeming to notice my gaze, she subtly showed off the manicure on the chicken foot she was holding. Like she was saying, Look how beautiful this is. Oblivious to how abstract and insane it was. The moment I recognized her, her death sentence was signed. But I’d spare her for now. I continued my “human” behavior—talking to thin air. “What did you think of the surgery?” Pause. “Seems you rate the doctor highly.” Pause. “I’ll treat you to dinner tonight, don’t argue.” Pause. “Just remember to bring your wallet.” After a string of soliloquies, the system chimed: [Mimic Points +5. The imitator believes it has gathered sufficient information and will attack you in a secluded area. Please identify it before the attack.] Night had fallen. The Doppelganger stopped hiding, its gaze filled with naked hunger. Walking through the deserted streets, the cold feeling grew stronger, like I was about to be flayed alive. I reached a dark alley and stopped. “You are a Doppelganger, aren’t you?” She looked surprised, then smirked cruelly. “When did you figure it out?” System prompt: [Do not use questions when identifying.] Strict. I turned around, pointed at her, and said, “You are a Doppelganger.” [Identification Successful. Urban Legend Unlocked: The Human Mimic.] [In the city’s shadows, Doppelgangers lurk. Among them hides the Human Mimic. Its behavior deviates from the norm, bringing error, chaos, and death to Doppelgangers.] [Tonight, a Doppelganger disturbed the Mimic.] [Legend Unlock Progress: 2%. The Doppelganger fears you.] The Doppelganger before me looked terrified. Inch by inch, it crumbled, turning into a set of summer clothes that the system absorbed. I pulled up the description: [Congratulations, you have acquired Identity 1: Incomplete Doppelganger (Mimic Form). She was a failure even among her kind.] [Note: Identity becomes invalid if exposed.] [But don’t worry. Beneath the Doppelganger skin lies the Human Mimic.] 3 “Did you guys hear? Someone from Room 305 went missing.” As soon as I got back to the dorm, my roommate Sarah brought up the news. “Is it that tall, skinny girl?” Emily asked. Sarah looked at her. “Oh, you knew too?” Jessica put down her study materials. “Is this a big deal? Maya, have you heard?” I shook my head. “Nope.” Thinking to myself, Is this related to the Doppelgangers? Sarah looked at us. “Her sister came to the school demanding answers. It might blow up depending on how the admin handles it.” Emily tutted. “Her RA is weird too. The girl’s been gone for two weeks and he didn’t even think to look for her.” Sarah joked, “Maybe he’s a Doppelganger?” My heart skipped a beat. “It’s possible.” She laughed. “I didn’t mean the ones from your game.” I put my suspicion aside. It wasn’t easy to explain Doppelgangers right now. I could show off my adjustable eyes, but that would probably get me chains in a research lab, not understanding. Before the truth surfaced, I had to be careful. I asked, “What’s the RA’s name again?” Emily recalled, “Something like Lee… Fly?” Jessica added, “Lee Xinfei. He’s the advisor for the music club. He’s a nice guy, don’t spread rumors.” I looked at Jessica. I noticed she was watching a lecture video at 1x speed on her laptop. She had headphones on earlier, so I hadn’t noticed. If I recall correctly, she always watches videos at 2x speed. Noticing my gaze, she asked, “What are you looking at, Maya?” I laughed it off. “Nothing, just spacing out.” If she had already been replaced, the situation was worse than I thought. The invasion might have started a long time ago. After lights out, I put my pillow at the foot of the bed, lay facing the other way, and covered my head completely with the duvet. Basically reversing my sleeping position. A normal person wouldn’t do this. I was just testing. Then, the sound I didn’t want to hear rang out: [Mimic Points +1. A Doppelganger witnessed this. It is confused.] I shivered. This meant one of my roommates was gone forever. I dumped 20 points into my “Arms.” I hoped for a strength boost. I needed to protect myself and get revenge. [Arms +20. Your arm joints can now bend freely. Please ignore the clicking sounds.] [Action Unlocked: Handstand. Movement speed increased by 50% while in a handstand.] [Action Unlocked: Crawl. You can briefly cling to walls while crawling.] [Passive Unlocked: Fear Harvest. Reaching 90% triggers a random effect.] Looking at the list, I pondered. Seems like hitting 20 points triggers a major change. I had 6 points left. I’d save them. I had skills now, but couldn’t use them yet. It was a sleepless night. Excitement, fear, sadness, and hatred mixed together. I decided to text my boyfriend, warning him about the Doppelgangers. At 1 AM, he replied: “My roommate sucks at gaming, he must be a Doppelganger.” How to explain? “Not internet slang. The horror game kind. You streamed those games, you know them.” He understood. “The monsters that mimic humans?” I sent a thumbs-up emoji. “Like the Mandela Catalogue, but maybe worse.” I sent him a graphic: Check for biological inconsistencies. Check for stiff movements or expressions. Check for repetitive speech patterns. Check if they stare at you constantly, causing unease. Look for tiny non-human traits. A while later, he replied, “Actually, it is weird. Star is left-handed, but he smokes with his right hand. Today he used his left.” “Is he a Doppelganger?” I sent several messages after that, but he didn’t reply. My eye twitched. Did something happen? The next morning, he replied, “Fell asleep last night. Tell me more later.” Eating breakfast downstairs, he asked, “You know a lot about this?” Alarm bells rang. Was he replaced? “Not much more than you.” He nodded. “There haven’t been any new Doppelganger games in three years. Why bring it up?” “I’m replaying old ones.” He looked disappointed. “Thought there was a new game to stream. My follower count is dropping.” His logic seemed sound, but I had my own test. “Come with me to the car wash.” He was surprised. “You bought a car? Did you win the lottery? Don’t forget me when you’re rich. I can call you Mom if the breakup fee is high enough.” In my bag were two black rooks from a Xiangqi (Chinese Chess) set. I planned to use them on Jessica, but he was first. At the car wash, he asked, “Where’s the car? We walked here.” I pulled out the two chess pieces (which are called ‘Cars’ in Chinese). “Wash these cars.” He gave me the Nick Young question mark face. ??? “You’re hilarious.” “Find a tap and wash them yourself, don’t prank the workers.” I stared into his eyes, heart pounding. No system prompt. I sighed in relief. “Never mind. Let’s go.” He looked at me. “You’re acting weird. Are you a Doppelganger?” I hesitated, but decided not to reveal my identity. “Just be careful. Some have infiltrated.” He looked down at me. “Are you tired lately?” I felt the difficulty of convincing him. I could convince anyone easily, I just chose not to. Selfishness won over love. “Just keep an eye out.” He smiled. “I’m a horror game streamer. Don’t worry.” After parting ways, I met up with Jessica to go shopping. My next move: buy the same item repeatedly at the same stall. After buying lilies for the sixth time at the corner florist, the prompt chimed: [Mimic Points +10.] [Over ten Doppelgangers witnessed this.] 4 I froze, holding the flowers. I scanned the florist, Jessica, and the bustling street outside. Jessica complained, “If you like them so much, buy more. I’m losing my mind here.” The clerk kept her customer service smile, but her eyes were weird. “Enough. Let’s go back.” Back in the dorm, I threw all the lilies in the trash, put the empty vase on the balcony, and filled it to the brim with water. Jessica stared at me like the screaming marmot meme. “Huh?!” System: [Mimic Points +10. The Doppelganger’s brain has been impacted. It cannot believe what it is seeing is real and not a hallucination.] I smiled at her. Gotcha. As I went to close the door, she quietly locked it. The other two roommates were out and wouldn’t be back soon. She was thinking the same thing I was. I smiled and didn’t call her out. Jessica walked up to me. “Maya, I lied yesterday. I know something about the missing girl.” I feigned surprise. “Why didn’t you say so?” She looked around and whispered, “Because one of the other two is a Doppelganger.” The weasel paying respects to the chicken. I sneered internally but kept a straight face. “How can Doppelgangers be real?” She looked anxious. “You have to believe me. Her death is related to them.” “She died?” Jessica nodded. “I saw it. Two weeks ago, I went to Mr. Lee’s office about the choir. I saw that girl leaving.” “She mentioned our room. She said: ‘Mr. Lee, someone in 301 is following me.’” “Mr. Lee told her to calm down, said it was impossible.” “She said: ‘I’ll find proof!’” I said, “That doesn’t prove she’s dead.” Jessica looked at me. “I have proof. Under Emily’s bed. Go look if you don’t believe me.” Unsure of her game, I shook my head. “I can’t rummage through people’s stuff.” She looked exasperated. “Why are you so stubborn!” Jessica stood up, went to Emily’s bed, and pulled out a human skin. “See? Believe me now?” I looked at her strangely. “But that’s your bed.” She smiled sinisterly. “Yes, it is.” I bent down to look. My two eyeballs popped out like ping pong balls and rolled towards her, staring straight up. I stood up, empty sockets facing her. “My eyes fell out. Can you pick them up for me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386103”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My best friend Claire and I had our dream wedding, marrying the Miller brothers. I married Joe, the swimmer; she married Liam, the surgeon. But their childhood sweetheart, Scarlett, crashed our joint honeymoon. During a rafting trip, we were all thrown into the river. The brothers dove in—but swam only to Scarlett, leaving us to the rapids. We were pulled from the water, bleeding heavily. Paramedics called our husbands. Mine snapped, “Sienna, must you be so needy? Scarlett’s in the hospital. Be considerate for once!” Claire’s husband was just as cold: “This better be important.” Told we were miscarrying and needed surgery, they both sneered, “If you’re going to lie, be believable. A honeymoon baby was a mistake anyway.” Signing the consent forms alone, Claire and I made a silent pact. We were done. 1 The first thing I did after waking up from the anesthesia was call Joe to demand a divorce. He finally answered on the seventh call, his voice dripping with impatience. “What do you want now? Are you ever going to stop?” We weren’t even through our honeymoon, and he already despised me this much. I heard a woman’s soft cry in the background, followed by the urgent, caring voices of Joe and Liam. Swallowing the bitterness that rose in my throat, I cut to the chase. “The honeymoon’s over. As soon as we’re back, I’m filing for divorce.” There was a sharp intake of breath on his end, then an explosion of rage. “Sienna, are you insane? I told you, Scarlett is in the hospital! I have to be here for her.” “None of this would have happened if you and Claire hadn’t insisted on sharing our raft! How else would Scarlett have fallen in?” he yelled. “It’s bad enough you don’t give a damn about her, but now you’re pulling this jealous stunt? I married you, just like you always wanted. Isn’t that enough? Why do you have to be so petty?” “You’re right,” he spat. “The honeymoon is over. Take your pathetic best friend and get lost. Just stay the hell away from me and my brother!” He hung up before I could say another word. That’s when I realized. He hadn’t married me because he wanted to. He’d married me to grant my wish. He seemed to have forgotten he was the one who once swore he’d never marry anyone but me. And the rafting trip? It was Scarlett who had insisted on it. All she had to do was say she wanted to go, and Joe and Liam made it happen. If it wasn’t for her, Claire and I would have never set foot in that raft. Besides, a four-person raft was the perfect size. Scarlett was the extra passenger, yet Claire and I were the ones who were thrown away. After falling into the water, the rapids spun us around until we were dizzy and disoriented. We swallowed mouthful after mouthful of river water, our struggles growing weaker. At one point, my head was about to smash against a rock, but Claire managed to pull me away just in time, her own body taking the brunt of the impact. Who could have known that the babies we had longed for would arrive so quietly, only to be torn away just as silently? A tragically perfect mirror of our marriages. Claire woke up after me, only to find she couldn’t even reach Liam. He had blocked her number. We just stared at each other, silent, as tears streamed down our faces. Just then, a notification for a trending video popped up on my phone. I opened it. It was a video of the Miller brothers’ heroic river rescue, and it had gone viral. In the clip, Joe and Liam worked together, lifting a terrified Scarlett out of the raging water. No matter how powerful the current, they refused to let her go. Once on shore, she murmured something about her chest hurting, and Joe immediately began performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Liam was right there beside him, meticulously disinfecting and bandaging a barely visible scratch on her arm. The comments section was flooded. Thousands of women wished they were Scarlett, to be saved so valiantly by two gorgeous men. Scarlett herself commented under the viral video: They saved my life… how can I ever repay them? Taking suggestions! Urgent! Her comment was immediately pinned to the top with a flood of likes. The internet had spoken. A debt like that can only be paid back one way! With your body! Two ridiculously hot heroes? Go for it, girl! Don’t hesitate! You snooze, you lose! Scarlett replied coyly to her new fans: Well, if you all insist! Get the wedding bells ready, everyone! So, a love triangle wasn’t crowded after all. It was our marriages, Claire’s and mine, that had made their perfect trio feel cramped. No one noticed the two other figures in the video, being swept further and further downstream. Just like Joe and Liam, the world only had eyes for Scarlett. Well, if they wanted a show, we would give them one. With a shared, unspoken understanding, Claire and I posted our own comments under the video. Just a heads-up to the two heroes: let us know when you have a free moment to sign divorce papers. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your real honeymoon. Scarlett’s confidence came from the brothers’ blatant favoritism. If they loved her so much, why had they married us in the first place? The moment we posted, our inboxes exploded. Mindless internet trolls told us to get out of the way and let true love run its course. A few kind souls offered their sympathy. And Joe, who hadn’t contacted me in two days, called me instantly, his voice a torrent of fury. “Sienna, who gave you permission to run your mouth online? Can you not survive a single day without throwing a jealous fit?” “Scarlett can’t swim! The situation was critical! Was I supposed to let her drown while you saved her?” “She would be dead if we hadn’t saved her! Would you have given your life for hers? Is that what you wanted?” “The rescue team got to you. You’re perfectly fine, so stop your whining. And you paid a doctor to fake a miscarriage? There’s a limit, Sienna.” “You and Claire are going to delete those comments, and then you’re going to record a public apology to Scarlett. If one more person calls her a homewrecker because of you, I’ll make you regret it.” This was the first time he had reached out to me since the accident. Not to ask if we were hurt—he assumed that since we could swim and the professionals had arrived, the worst we’d suffered was swallowing a little dirty water. He didn’t care that his demand for an apology would only fuel the online mob calling for our heads. His only concern was protecting Scarlett’s reputation. But wasn’t forcing her way into two marriages the very definition of a homewrecker? The man I had loved for five years truly had no heart for me. A five-year marathon, finally ending with the wedding he’d promised. And now, not even two weeks later, the happy marriage I’d dreamed of was ending with the death of my child. Maybe our babies knew. Maybe they decided to leave the moment they realized their fathers wouldn’t choose their mothers. The brothers had been clear: they would have made us get rid of a honeymoon baby anyway. Even without the accident, our children were never meant to be. Joe was still on the line, waiting for me to break down, to apologize, to beg. His impatience was palpable. “I’m talking to you! Are you mute?” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Are you deaf? I said, we’re getting a divorce.” 2 With me, Joe was usually a man of few words. Even during arguments, he preferred to let things cool down. The only exception was Scarlett. When it came to her, he could unleash a firestorm of rage at me. And it always ended with me being the one to apologize. I loved him, so I always gave in. I believed that since he had promised to marry me, he would honor it. Looking back, a clean break would have been kinder. On the other end of the line, Joe’s breathing grew heavy. He was clearly enraged by my defiance. “Sienna, I hate being threatened. I brought you on this honeymoon as a courtesy, not so you could compete with Scarlett like some catty teenager. Why do you have to be so damn insecure? My own brother is at his wit’s end because of your brainless friend. If you keep this up, don’t blame me when this is all over.” “Oh, it’ll be over, Joe,” I said calmly. “The moment the divorce is final.” He was stunned into silence for a second, then he hung up and immediately video-called me. His face was a thundercloud, a clear sign he was at the end of his rope. “Say that again. You want a divorce?” he snarled. “Did you think marriage was a game? You were the one rushing to the altar, and now you’re the one screaming for a divorce. Are you trying to make a fool out of me?” “You’re almost thirty, throwing tantrums and getting jealous over nothing. Who else would have married you? No one wants a woman like you!” He had spent five years emotionally manipulating me about my desire to get married. He knew exactly where to stick the knife. “What’s wrong with being almost thirty? It’s not a death sentence. And it’s not like you’re the last man on earth. And even if you were, I’d still divorce you.” Because of them, because of their choice, Claire and I had almost died, taking our unborn children with us. I would rather die than stay married to him. Marrying Joe had once been my greatest dream. I’d ignored my parents’ warnings, determined to have him. If I could be stubborn enough to marry him, I could be resolute enough to leave him. He was the wall I had to run into. Now, bruised and broken, I finally understood: marrying a man who doesn’t truly love you is a lifetime of misery. Before the wedding, no matter how much I fought with him over Scarlett, I never once considered leaving. I foolishly believed that being his first real love made me special. It wasn’t until he swam toward her, watching me get swept away without a flicker of concern, that I finally understood my place. I was just something to keep his bed warm. “Sienna, you’re not a child anymore. Are you really going to throw away our marriage over something so trivial?” Trivial. Watching me nearly die was trivial. “Yes,” I said. “For this one, trivial thing.” He once draped his swimming medal around my neck and joked that if my mother and I were drowning, he was fast enough to save us both. I was so touched at the time. I didn’t need him to lie and say he’d save me first; those were just words. But I never imagined that when a real-life drowning scenario played out, he would swim to his childhood sweetheart without a second thought. For him, there had only ever been one right answer. I was the wrong one. Two weeks ago, at our wedding, he took my hand from my father and promised to protect me for the rest of his life. His ‘rest of his life’ was short. It lasted fifteen days. “Fine! Have it your way! We’ll get a divorce. But don’t you come crawling back to me, because I never go back for seconds.” He ended the video call abruptly. I knew why. In the background, I’d heard Scarlett’s sweet voice, telling him she was thirsty. One word from her, and Joe would give her the world. He was an expert in the water, yet he hadn’t noticed that Claire and I were in real trouble. He didn’t even notice I was lying pale in a hospital bed on his video screen. Before Scarlett returned, he had been lukewarm, but he would at least stay up all night with me if I had a fever. We had been in love once, for a little while. Now, that love was gone, washed away. All it took was one look from Scarlett, and I lost everything. Joe’s voice had been loud. Claire, lying in the bed next to me, had heard every word. She crawled onto my bed and hugged me, her body shaking with angry sobs. “Sienna, we were so blind. How could we have mistaken those scumbags for the loves of our lives?” Before I could comfort her, her phone started ringing incessantly. Liam, apparently willing to unblock her just to give Scarlett a victory, was calling. Tears streamed down Claire’s face. She meant to reject the call, but a teardrop landed on the screen, and her swipe accidentally answered the video chat. “Why are you crying, Claire? Do you think red, puffy eyes are going to make me forgive your monumental screw-up?” Liam’s face filled the screen, twisted with contempt. “If you and Sienna are so bored, go find your own fun. Go to a club, hire a male stripper for all I care. But you do not get to drag Scarlett’s name through the mud online!” “She poured her heart and soul into planning this trip for us, and this is how you repay her? By getting her torn apart by strangers online? Do you have any conscience at all?” Claire’s tears became a torrent. 3 Her crying didn’t stop Liam. It only fueled his tirade, as if he and his brother wouldn’t rest until they had verbally beaten us into submission. “Don’t just sit there and cry. If you weren’t my wife, I’d give you a taste of your own medicine. With my brother’s and my reputation, turning the internet against you would take minutes.” “If I were you, I’d be crawling over here to beg for Scarlett’s forgiveness, and then I’d get the hell out of sight. Crying won’t solve anything.” Claire hadn’t even wanted to answer. Seeing her get ripped to shreds without saying a single word, a protective fury surged through me. I snatched the phone. “Liam, you’re a bastard, just like your brother. Go file the damn papers!” Claire found her voice, a choked sob. “Liam, I want a divorce!” After the call, she was a wreck, trembling with a mixture of grief and anger. I held her tight, and we cried together, letting it all out. Who would have thought? A celebrated swimming prodigy and a life-saving surgeon, leaving their own wives to die. Their polished public images had charmed everyone, including us. But we were the only ones who knew the ugliness that lay beneath the surface. “Sienna, maybe this is a blessing in disguise,” Claire whispered, her voice raw. “At least we see them for who they are now. We don’t have to waste our lives, or bring children into a loveless marriage.” “Claire, I’m so glad you can see it that way. I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to let Liam go…” She had chased after him since she was a teenager. That kind of first love is hard to forget. She had dedicated more than a decade of her life to him, only for it to end like this. “Sienna, a heart doesn’t turn to ice in one day. I don’t regret marrying him, and I certainly don’t regret divorcing him. It was my choice, and now I’m choosing to cut my losses.” We held each other again, drawing strength from one another. Our marriages were over. We had accepted that the moment we woke up from surgery. Our only regret was for the two small lives that had flickered briefly inside us, sacrifices on the altar of our failed relationships. We prayed they would find happier homes next time. Composing ourselves, we began preparing for the divorces. Being newlyweds, there were no complicated assets to divide. All we needed were their signatures and a trip to the courthouse. Just as we finished drafting the agreements, we both received notifications on our phones. It was from a social media app. Our husbands, using their verified public accounts, had replied directly to our comments under the viral video. Joe Miller: My wife gets a little jealous sometimes and likes to make a big deal out of small things. If you have questions, ask me. Please don’t attack an innocent person! Liam Miller: My wife and sister-in-law are both excellent swimmers, and they were immediately picked up by the professional rescue team. They weren’t hurt. Please don’t get carried away by their little joke. They even posted a group photo of the four of us from earlier in the trip, trying to prove we were fine. Their posts ignited a firestorm. The internet collectively decided we were manipulative drama queens, trying to piggyback on Scarlett’s newfound fame. After all, she had leaned into the viral moment, building a brand and gaining hundreds of thousands of followers. I checked my messages and saw Joe had been demanding my login credentials. Because I hadn’t deleted the comment and apologized, he was going to log in as me and do it himself. I had to laugh. He would literally walk through fire for Scarlett. For me, there wasn’t an ounce of sincerity. All my passwords were our anniversary dates. He had forgotten. Thank god he forgot. I can’t imagine the ways he would have publicly humiliated me to appease her. Their self-righteous declarations online showed a complete disregard for the torrent of abuse we would face. It was just like in the river—they had left us to drown. You two bitches should just die. Threatening divorce like it’s a joke. You think you’re so special? Get a real divorce then, or I’ll curse you out myself! What did your husbands do wrong, you psycho? They saved someone! You’re fine, so stop being so bitter! Attention-seeking whores, get a divorce and leave those poor men alone. I can picture your ugly, jealous faces. You two are so obsessed with each other, why don’t you just get together and make room for the real queen! The internet may have rules, but online mobs don’t need a reason to attack. The pain of the drowning, the miscarriage, the decision to divorce… it was a private agony that only Claire and I could understand. Joe and Liam couldn’t see the hospital beds we were lying in, but their indifference was one thing. To actively lie and paint us as villains was pure poison. We looked at the flood of hate pouring into our phones. We were done being punching bags. If the brothers wanted to weaponize the internet to protect Scarlett, we weren’t going to just lie down and take it. We took a picture of our surgery consent forms—the ones detailing the procedures for our miscarriages—and sent them directly to our husbands.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386119”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I lost the baby, Ethan wept outside the delivery room. Even the nurses were touched, whispering enviably, “Your husband loves you so much. You’re lucky.” I looked at Ethan, who was carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it down for me. “Yeah, I am.” But later, I saw a field of red roses covering an entire hillside. And I saw him standing there, shouting, “I love you!” to the girl who killed our child. 01 Ethan had been incredibly busy lately. Busy meeting clients, busy with board meetings, busy with “networking.” He’d come home in the middle of the night, reeking of alcohol. “Chloe, I’m so tired.” He would kiss me on the forehead. “But when I think of you and the baby, it’s all worth it.” I would gently stroke my belly, looking at him with heartache as he passed out from exhaustion. This was our third year of marriage. Finally, we were having a child. Ethan and I met in college. Relying on his sharp business acumen and my unwavering backend support, we built our startup from a garage project into a thriving company. Two years ago, we actually conceived. But back then, the company was in a critical growth phase. We were running ourselves ragged, flying across the country every other day. “Let’s not keep it,” I had said, cupping Ethan’s face, my voice firm but shaking. “We can have children later. But this opportunity for the company… it’s once in a lifetime.” Ethan’s eyes had turned red. I knew how hungry he was for success. We had poured our blood and sweat into this business. I couldn’t let my personal desires destroy the hard work of so many employees. Even though I loved kids, for the sake of our future, I gave up that first pregnancy. Now, “Ethan & Co.” was stable. We were finally getting our wish—soon to be a family of three. Even though I was only four months along, Ethan had banned me from doing any work or chores since the day the stick turned pink. Buzz. My phone lit up on the nightstand. I quickly silenced it, terrified of waking Ethan. It was a picture message. I clicked it open. It was a photo, taken at a tilted, secretive angle. Across a candlelit table sat a man. The photographer was clearly a woman—her hand was visible in the corner, slender, with an intricate manicure and a distinctive crystal charm bracelet. But my eyes were glued to the man’s hand across from her. On his wrist was the diamond-encrusted Cartier watch I had given Ethan for his birthday just days ago. My heart started hammering against my ribs. I zoomed in. On the man’s index finger, there was a faint, white scar. It was Ethan. That scar was from our first year of marriage. I couldn’t mistake it. Back then, the company was just starting, and we needed every penny for capital. We lived in a cramped studio apartment on the outskirts of the city to save on rent. The building was ancient, and the wiring was shot. One night, the power cut out while Ethan was chopping vegetables. He sliced his finger open in the dark. I scrambled to find the first aid kit by the light of my phone screen, bandaging him up with trembling hands. We sat in the dark, eating cold sandwiches because the electric stove wouldn’t work. “Chloe,” his voice had been dry and raspy. “I’m sorry I’m making you suffer like this.” “One day, I promise, I’ll give you the happiest life imaginable.” I had leaned my head on his shoulder. “I know.” I believed in that future. And true to his word, we eventually got that life. Until that hand appeared in another woman’s photo. 02 When Ethan woke up the next morning, I had already made oatmeal. Watching him scroll through his phone with a faint smile, I asked, casually as I could, “Who was the dinner with last night?” Ethan glanced at me. “The General Manager of OmniCorp. You’ve met her.” I had met her. The GM of OmniCorp was indeed a young woman. I nodded and didn’t say anything else. Ethan put down his spoon. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I said softly. “Just try not to drink so much next time.” “I know. The Omni contract is still up in the air. I have to go meet her again today to finalize terms.” I cleared the table. “Okay. I have my prenatal checkup this afternoon. Are you free?” Ethan walked over, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and kissed my cheek. “Babe, this partnership is make-or-break. Can you drive yourself to the clinic this one time? I’ll go with you next month, I promise.” I looked up at him. “But the doctor said these first few months are crucial. I really wanted you there.” Ethan looked me in the eye. “Chloe, please. Be reasonable.” That phrase. It sounded so familiar. A few months ago, when we found out I was pregnant, he used that same tone. “Chloe, I want you to step back from the company for a while.” “The stress is too much. I’m worried about you.” I was surprised. I had weathered the stormiest days of our startup; I wasn’t fragile. “It’s fine, I can—” “Chloe,” he had looked at me with intense seriousness. “I don’t want anything to happen to our baby.” “Please. Be reasonable.” Seeing his determination, I had agreed. Just like today. He smiled, coaxed me into eating a few more bites, and left for the office. I got dressed and headed to the hospital. That drive would change my life forever. 03 I was waiting at a red light when the car behind me slammed into my bumper without braking. The impact was massive. Inertia threw me forward, and despite the seatbelt, my lower abdomen slammed hard against the steering wheel console. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through me. My vision blurred. The driver of the other car ran up and tapped on my window. I used every ounce of strength to pop the door open. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking at the light…” It was a young, pretty girl. Her sweet, apologetic smile vanished instantly, replaced by horror. “Oh my god… you’re bleeding…” she shrieked. I looked down. Blood was soaking the beige car seat. My baby! Panic, cold and sharp, woke me up. “Call 911! Now!” I screamed. “No, wait, the ambulance will take too long. Get in my car, I’ll drive you to the ER! It’s two blocks away!” The girl hesitated, looking terrified. “I… I’m scared to move you…” I roared at her, “Drive! My baby is dying!” Frightened by my hysteria, she helped me into her passenger seat. She was sobbing as she started the car, but instead of focusing, she called her boyfriend. “Babe, I accidentally hit a pregnant lady’s car… she’s bleeding a lot… I’m driving her to the hospital, what do I do? I’m so scared…” She listened to the voice on the other end, calming down slightly. I was frantically trying to call Ethan. Line busy. Again. Line busy. Pick up, Ethan! Our baby! I dialed the office line in desperation. “Put Ethan on the phone! It’s an emergency!” My assistant sounded confused. “One second… wait, he was just here. Where did he go? He literally just vanished.” “Find him and tell him to call me!” I yelled and hung up. We arrived at the ER. Nurses rushed me onto a gurney. The diagnosis came quickly: severe trauma caused a placental abruption. I had lost the baby. Lying on the hospital bed, moments before surgery to remove the tissue, I heard the girl whining to her boyfriend on the phone in the hallway. “Can you hurry up? I’m really scared. What if she tries to sue me for everything?” The anesthesia kicked in. A single tear rolled down my temple. I’m sorry, baby. 04 When I opened my eyes, Ethan was sitting by my bed, eyes rimmed with red. “Ethan…” My voice was a croak. He quickly poured me water. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. I was in a meeting…” I paused for a long time before finding the strength to speak. “The baby… the baby is gone.” Ethan took a deep breath and forced a pained smile. “I know. Chloe, it was an accident. Nobody wanted this. Don’t worry, we can have another one.” “Where is she?” I suddenly remembered the driver. “The girl who rear-ended me.” Ethan stroked my hair. “I told her to go home. The police contacted me about the accident report. It’ll depend on their investigation. Having her here would just upset you, so I sent her away.” Tears began to fall again, soaking the pillow. “Why? She should pay for this!” Ethan was silent for a moment. “In these cases, it’s usually just financial compensation.” I closed my eyes. “I wish she could go to jail…” “Chloe, jail won’t bring the baby back. It’s pointless to fixate on punishment.” I opened my eyes, looking at him in disbelief. “Pointless? She killed my child! She just pays a fine and walks away? What about me? Can money fix this?” Ethan frowned. “That’s how the law works. Chloe, listen to me. We will have other children. That girl is in her early twenties. A criminal record would ruin her entire life.” He sighed. “I know you’re grieving. I’m hurting too. Just focus on getting better. Don’t think about the messy stuff.” I stared at Ethan, trying to find the man I married. He looked the same. But his words… they didn’t sound like him. Was I just overwhelmed with grief? Was I being unreasonable to want someone to pay for their mistake? Seeing my expression shift, Ethan gently took my hand. “Chloe, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386135”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day I retired, my daughter arrived in tears. Her startup had failed, she said, leaving her a million dollars in debt. Fearing loan sharks would come for her and my grandson, I begged the hospital to rehire me and took on every side job I could find. Days were spent in surgery, nights driving for Uber and delivering food. I saved every cent for her debt, but the strain broke my health—I developed stomach cancer. When she saw the diagnosis, my daughter held me tight, crying, “Hospitals are too expensive, treatments are torture. Chemo makes your hair fall out. The doctor said it’s just inflammation. Let’s see a naturopath—herbs will cure you.” I believed her. She talked me out of treatment, and my early cancer spread until it was terminal. On my deathbed, I discovered the truth: her startup had succeeded years before. She was worth millions, spending five figures daily, a VIP at Hermès. She’d buy jewelry to please her mother-in-law but not pay to save me. Her poverty was an act of revenge—because years earlier, I’d saved her husband from a crash but couldn’t save his leg. Rage choked me; my soul shook. Then I opened my eyes. I was back—ten years earlier, on the day of my son-in-law’s car crash. 1 “Director, my mom has decided against the fellowship abroad. She won’t be signing the contract.” The moment I saw my daughter, Chloe, walking into the hospital with my grandson, Nathan, a cold dread washed over me. Something was terribly wrong. I glanced at the date on the contract in my hands, and my heart stopped. I was back. I had been reborn at the turning point of my career. The hospital administration wanted to groom me for a leadership position, and they had secured a prestigious, fully-funded international fellowship just for me. In my past life, to stay close to Chloe, I had turned down this priceless opportunity. The hospital director shook his head, his face a mask of disappointment. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Sarah. There’s only one spot. If you’re not going, I’ll have to offer it to someone else.” A bomb went off in my head. A once-in-a-lifetime chance. I couldn’t let it slip through my fingers again. I would not hand this victory to someone else. Just as the director began to pull the contract back, my hand shot out, pressing it flat against the desk. My voice trembled, a raw, desperate sound I barely recognized as my own. “I’ll go.” The director paused, surprised. “But Sarah, it’s a three-year program. Aren’t you worried your daughter will resent you?” Resent me? Even when I had devoted my entire existence to her family, putting her first at every turn, sacrificing my own health and happiness, what did I get in return? Nothing but blame and resentment. She wouldn’t even shed a single tear at my grave. Only now, in this second life, did I finally understand. I could neglect anyone in the world, but I could never again neglect myself. “The hospital has shown such faith in me, offering me this incredible opportunity to grow. I’m sure she’ll understand.” With that, I pulled the pen from my coat pocket, ready to sign. An opportunity like this wouldn’t wait. But before the ink could touch the paper, Chloe snatched the pen from my hand. She hurled it to the floor. It shattered, and a black stain bloomed across the pristine white tiles, like a spreading wound. Her face crumpled, and she began to sob, great, gulping breaths that left her gasping for air. “I don’t want you to go!” she wailed. “Mom, if you leave, what will we do? Nathan’s about to start middle school—it’s such a critical time! How can you even think about going abroad now? You’re too old for this kind of foolishness!” She clutched at her heart dramatically. “We all depend on you! What will we eat? Who will clean the house? Nathan’s clothes only ever get really clean when you wash them by hand! How can you be so cruel?” So, she knew what it was to struggle. My entire life had revolved around her, a life of endless labor and sacrifice. She wiped at her tears, her face a picture of pitiable misery. “Director, you’re doctors. You save lives. Patients worship you. You’re forcing my mother to go abroad against her will! Last night, she held me and promised she wouldn’t leave. I’m begging you, on my knees, please don’t force her to go.” As she spoke, she gave Nathan a sharp nudge. His face puckered, and he burst into a theatrical wail. “Grandma, don’t go! If you leave, who will give me allowance money? Mommy says you have lots of money for me!” Before he could say more, Chloe clamped a hand over his mouth, pulling him back. Then, taking him by the hand, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor in front of the director. The office fell into a stunned silence. The director was utterly flustered. “My dear child, what are you doing? Get up!” he pleaded, reaching for her. He turned to me, his expression troubled. “Dr. Sullivan, perhaps you should go home and discuss this further with your family.” I knew that if I walked out that door, my chance would be gone forever. Countless pairs of eyes in this hospital were watching this fellowship, waiting for me to falter. No matter what, I had to sign that contract. Today. 2 In my last life, Chloe cried for an entire night. She couldn’t bear for me to leave; she begged and pleaded for me to stay. Her tears wore me down, and I finally relented, deciding to remain in the country to be with her. But even that wasn’t enough. She constantly complained that her life was stifling, that her family wasn’t happy, that she wasn’t fulfilled. After she married Kevin, I felt sorry for her, juggling a household while paying off a mortgage and car loans. I gave her every spare cent I had. She complained that Nathan was falling behind in school and that Kevin didn’t earn enough. She lamented that being a housewife made people look down on her. My heart ached for her struggles, so I stepped in. I took over her household chores, cooked her meals, and did her laundry, tirelessly caring for her entire family. Finally, the day I retired arrived. I had already made plans with old friends to travel, to finally see the world. But that was the day my daughter came to me, weeping, and told me about her failed startup and the million-dollar debt. How could I bear to see her and my grandson hunted by loan sharks? So, I went back to the hospital, cap in hand, and took on any work they’d give me. I worked every waking hour. Hospital by day, Uber and DoorDash by night, saving every penny for her. Until the cancer diagnosis. My daughter fell into my arms, sobbing. “I looked it up online, Mom. Chemo just speeds things up. You won’t last three months. I found a famous naturopath who can cure you. His herbal formulas have saved countless cancer patients. Each treatment costs a fortune, thousands of dollars!” I was a doctor. I knew my own body. I knew there was still a chance, that surgery to remove the tumor could save me. But she had already purchased ten vials of the murky, brown liquid. Friends and relatives all praised her, telling me what a wonderful, devoted daughter I had. I assumed a treatment that cost thousands must be made of rare, miraculous ingredients. I couldn’t bear to throw it away, so I forced it down, sip by bitter sip. But the “medicine” only made me worse. My early-stage cancer raged into its final, terminal phase. For a full month, I was tortured by agonizing pain. The bitter concoction couldn’t sustain me. My belly swelled with ascites until it was taut as a drum. In the end, there was nothing left but to let the tumors devour my organs, leaving me hollowed out and filled with poison. Even as I died, Chloe never shed a single tear. It was on the seventh day after my death, the day my soul was said to return, that I learned everything. Chloe and her family had been using my compassion all along, turning me into their unpaid maid, their personal ATM. They drained my salary and my pension, secretly using it to fund her business venture. They bled me dry, down to the very last drop. She had been lying to me the entire time. Her startup had been profitable for years. In just five years, she’d built a company and become its CEO. In ten, she was a multimillionaire. She spent ten thousand dollars a day without a second thought, a VIP at Hermès. She would spend a hundred thousand on jewelry for her mother-in-law without batting an eye but refused to spend a single penny on me. And the thousand-dollar “miracle cure”? It was a lie. She’d found some charlatan to prescribe the cheapest, most common herbs. The daughter I trusted, the daughter I adored, had deceived me my entire life. She was a viper I had warmed at my own breast. Even on the night of my funeral, she remained dry-eyed. Her voice was light, almost casual, as she spoke to a relative. “She should have died a long time ago. Even if I were a billionaire, I wouldn’t have spent a cent on her. It’s what she deserved. It’s her fault she only saved Kevin’s life but not his leg. She condemned me to a life of being mocked for marrying a cripple. I hated her for it. I’m glad she’s gone. Otherwise, I’d always be worried she’d find out about my money and expect me to support her.” The rage was so powerful it felt like it would tear my spirit apart. How could I not feel betrayed? How could I not be filled with hate? Tears of blood fell from my spectral eyes, my heart a void of despair. My entire life had been for Chloe, and my reward was to die in agony, utterly alone. Reborn, I would live for myself. This time, I would put myself first. 3 The director, caught in the middle, tried to reason with me. “Her son is starting middle school this year, Sarah. It’s a big transition. There will be other opportunities. Perhaps you can go next time.” My mind raced. This was the chance I had to seize, the greatest regret of my previous life. How could I let it go again? My voice was hoarse but firm. “Director, she’s a grown woman with her own family. She is more than capable of taking care of herself. I am ready. I can leave whenever necessary.” At my words, Chloe’s eyes widened. Tears welled up instantly, and she tightened her grip on the director’s arm. “What does being married matter? I’m still my mother’s little girl! Mom, even if you can bear to leave me, can you bear to leave Nathan? He’s your only grandson!” She shot a look at Nathan, who immediately picked up his cue. “I’d rather drop out of school than be without my Grandma!” he cried. The director’s face fell. “Now, that’s just nonsense.” He clearly thought this was a domestic squabble I hadn’t managed properly. “Sarah, I have a patient waiting. Why don’t you take your family outside for now.” The thread of tension inside me finally snapped. Seeing the director reach for the contract on his desk, I grabbed the pen from the holder and, without a second thought, scrawled my name across the signature line. The director stared, stunned for a half-second. “You… you signed it?” I pushed the document toward him, my voice steady. “It’s signed. As soon as my visa is approved, I’m ready to go.” Chloe clearly hadn’t expected me to act so decisively. She grabbed my arm, her grip like a vise. “Mom, what is wrong with you? Who are you trying to punish? I got on my knees and begged you, and you still won’t stay! This whole family depends on you! If you leave, what happens to us? How can you be so selfish?” Her eyes burned with a furious, resentful glare. “If you don’t care about me, then I might as well just go die right now, and don’t you dare try to stop me!” Something in me broke. My hand flew up, seemingly of its own accord, and I slapped her, hard, across the face. In this life and the last, it was the first time I had ever struck her. The blow was charged with all the bitterness and rage of my past life. The force of it was so great my own palm stung and went numb. Her shocked, hateful eyes met mine. I stared back at her, my voice cold as ice. “Chloe, let that be a lesson to you.” Years ago, her husband, Kevin, had been in a multi-car pile-up. The emergency room was overflowing with victims. I was scheduled for back-to-back surgeries. When I heard my own son-in-law was among the injured, fresh out of one operation, my heart seized with fear for Chloe. I swore to myself I would do whatever it took to save him, to make sure she and Nathan wouldn’t be left alone. Family members are never supposed to operate on their own relatives, but the situation was dire. Only I had the specific skills he needed. Kevin couldn’t wait. After a grueling four-hour surgery, I had saved him. But to save his life, in a critical moment, I had made the call to amputate his leg above the knee. From that day on, Kevin hated me with a passion. He never missed a chance to lash out. “Why did you save me? You should have just let me die! I don’t want to live like this, a pathetic cripple!” It was the exact same look of hatred I saw in Chloe’s eyes now. Blood, it seemed, never lies. Chloe’s voice was venomous. “If you walk out that door, I will hate you for the rest of my life.” She clutched her cheek and ran from the office, sobbing. I let out a slow breath. She had hated me for a long time already. What difference did one more lifetime make? Signing the contract was just the first step. I still had three months before my departure—a probationary period for the hospital to finalize its decision. As long as I didn’t make any mistakes, the fellowship was mine. But it wasn’t long before anonymous complaints started flooding the administration. The director called me into his office. “These are all coming from the same person, and they’re being sent from within the city,” he said, his brow furrowed. “Sarah, have you made an enemy of someone?” My first thought was Chloe. She would stop at nothing to keep me here. 4 “Dr. Sullivan, consider this a warning. We have a delegation from the board coming for an inspection in a few days. Don’t let anything go wrong.” This inspection was a major event. The top brass was coming to evaluate the hospital’s overall performance and the professionalism of its staff. The administration was on high alert, and our days were filled with preparations. I knew that the anonymous complaints, without any real evidence, were just noise. But this… this would be different. To keep the peace, I had continued sending Chloe her monthly allowance. I thought that with her own work, she would be too busy to cause more trouble. But somehow, she found out the exact date of the inspection. And on that very morning, she appeared at the hospital. A sense of foreboding washed over me. Before I could even call out to her, a nurse came running towards me, out of breath. “Dr. Sullivan, it’s an emergency!” My heart sank. The nurse gasped, “There’s a family making a scene downstairs! They’re saying you killed their relative. They’re blocking the entrance. You have to go handle it!” I glanced at my watch. Eight o’clock. The delegation was due to arrive at the main entrance in exactly one hour. I had to resolve this, and fast. When I got to the lobby, the scene was worse than I imagined. A man in a wheelchair and a young boy, maybe seven or eight years old, were dressed in black. They were holding a large white banner with crude, crimson letters painted on it: “METROPOLITAN GENERAL SURGEON SARAH SULLIVAN IS A MURDERER!” The bright red words on the white cloth were impossible to miss. A crowd of patients and visitors had gathered. The little boy was chanting, his voice high and piercing, “Sarah Sullivan, give me back my mommy! Sarah Sullivan is a murderer!” As I stepped forward, the man in the wheelchair spat in my direction. “Don’t you come any closer! You take one more step and I’ll ram this chair into a wall and kill myself right here!” In my decades as a surgeon, I had never had a single malpractice case. I knew, with absolute certainty, that these people were actors. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder. “Isn’t that Dr. Sullivan? She operated on my son. I can’t believe someone with her skills would make a mistake like that!” “Maybe her reputation is all hype. They call her the ‘Saint of Surgery,’ don’t they?” “Some saint. She’s not even a department head yet. If she was that good, why hasn’t she been promoted?” The situation was spiraling out of control. “Charge Nurse,” I called out, my voice ringing with authority. “Pull the medical records for this woman. If there’s no record of her being a patient here, call security and have them arrested for slander.” Every patient is registered in our system. A quick search would expose their lie. My eyes darted to the corner of the lobby, where Chloe was hiding, and my blood ran cold. But before the nurse could even get to a computer, a shuttle bus pulled up to the front entrance. “Dr. Sullivan, the delegation is here,” my hospital rival, Dr. Manning, said with a smirk. “Good luck explaining this.” I glanced at my watch. Eight-thirty. They were half an hour early. As expected. The sight of the protest at the hospital entrance immediately soured the lead delegate’s mood. Even my own director’s face darkened. “Dr. Sullivan, what is the meaning of this?” he hissed, then shot me a look. “Get this under control. Now.” At that moment, Chloe burst from her hiding spot. She ran to the center of the chaos and grabbed the director’s arm. “Director, please, I’m begging you, don’t let my mother go abroad for that fellowship! Her family needs her here!” The delegate’s face was a stony mask. He turned to the director. “Director Miller, do you not vet the qualifications of the doctors you select for such a prestigious opportunity?” Clearly, my professional record was now in question. Chloe’s voice was thick with manufactured tears. “Mom, please, stop being so stubborn! You’ve already killed a patient! Going abroad now would just be an embarrassment. Why are you doing this?” My face burned with humiliation. I wrenched my arm away from her. “What are you talking about?” I took a deep, steadying breath. “These people are strangers. Someone hired them to cause a scene. I have never treated their supposed relative. I request a search of the patient database to prove my innocence.” Director Miller nodded. “The records don’t lie. Check them now.” Just as the charge nurse reached a terminal, her phone rang. Her expression shifted, her face growing pale and grim. “Understood. We’re preparing now.” She hung up, her voice tight with urgency. “Director, there’s been a multi-car pile-up in the Crestview Tunnel, involving a tour bus. City Central is overwhelmed and they’re diverting patients to us. We have twenty-three incoming, including two critical.” I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second. It was happening. It was all happening again. The first rule of a hospital is to save lives. My personal vindication would have to wait. Nurses and orderlies were already rushing outside with gurneys. The first ambulances were arriving, their sirens wailing. The lobby transformed into a triage unit. I was about to move toward the ER when the lead delegate stopped me. “Someone else can take the lead. Her judgment is compromised.” His eyes, and everyone else’s, flickered towards the two protestors still blocking the entrance. Chloe’s face was just beginning to light up with triumph when she saw a familiar figure being wheeled in on a gurney. His face was a mask of blood, shards of glass embedded in his flesh. Chloe’s face went white. A raw, guttural scream tore from her throat. “KEVIN!!!” I narrowed my eyes, looking at the broken man on the gurney. A moment later, my arm was seized in a desperate grip. Chloe’s voice was a frantic, pleading whisper. “Mom… Mom, please, you have to save him! You have to save Kevin!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386151”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I heard them talking behind my back in the restroom stall. The intern I’d spent three months personally training was complaining, her voice sharp with resentment. “He’s just an old fossil who doesn’t get it, like some robot whose brain is stuck in a loop.” I was about to push the door open and cut her off when someone else chimed in with a snicker. “‘The materials are incomplete.’” “‘This receipt isn’t compliant.’” “‘The director hasn’t signed off, so I can’t process it.’” “Yeah, we’ve all memorized his corporate catchphrases!” I waited until they were gone, then quietly returned to my desk. The intern, Jessica, slammed a thick stack of expense reports on my desk. “Don’t you dare go on another power trip and refuse to reimburse everyone.” I glanced at the fraudulent invoice on top but didn’t call it out like I usually would. This time, I just smiled faintly. “I have a headache. I can’t see the words clearly.” 1 “What?” Jessica stared at me, then her voice turned shrill. “Are you doing this on purpose?” “If you don’t want to process them, just say so! You’re deliberately making things difficult for everyone, so cut the act!” I took a deep breath, refusing to get dragged into a pointless argument. The old me would have patiently explained it to her. Expense receipts needed to be legitimate and valid. As the gatekeepers of the company’s finances, we were legally liable. But every time, she’d push back with a defiant look. “Rules are rigid, but people are flexible. Chris, why can’t you just bend a little?” I had still maintained my professionalism, teaching her time and again how to properly audit the claims. But now, remembering her words from the restroom, a chill settled in my heart. If she didn’t appreciate my guidance, there was nothing more to say. I picked up my thermos and turned to leave. Jessica frowned and grabbed my arm. “Where are you going? Feeling guilty?” When I didn’t answer, she raised her voice. “Don’t you know everyone’s had a problem with you for ages? You think I’m the only one who can’t stand you?” “You’re always holding up people’s reimbursements. What, does the money you ‘save’ go into your own pocket?” I was stunned by the absurdity of it all. Just last week, when Jessica applied for a full-time position, I had written a glowing recommendation for her. Now, before the ink was even dry on her application, she was eager to burn this bridge. I pulled my arm away from her painful grip. “Jessica,” I said, my voice calm and measured, “you need to understand that the company has specific procedures and policies for reimbursement. I’m just following the rules.” “Rules?” she sneered. “Are you even human? All you ever talk about are rules, repeating the same lines over and over.” She huffed, her tone becoming demanding. “I don’t care. You have to approve everyone’s expenses today. The others are too polite to say anything, so I’ll be the one to do it. Chris Miller, you need to change your rotten attitude! Stop acting like a damn robot!” Her outburst was met with a ripple of soft laughter from the onlookers who had been silently watching. “Jessica’s got guts!” “Finally, someone’s putting that fossil Chris in his place.” Buoyed by the support, a triumphant smirk spread across Jessica’s face. “See? Now you know how much everyone dislikes you. You should learn from me. Be more considerate of your colleagues’ difficulties and stop making everyone bend to your will!” I almost laughed out loud. The very first expense report on the stack was a fake invoice. The description read “Business travel taxi fare,” but the amount was a staggering one hundred thousand dollars. I wondered if the colleague in question had taken a taxi on a cross-country tour. I set that report aside and flipped to the next one: a screenshot of a fifty-two-thousand-dollar mobile payment. The recipient was labeled “My Dearest Wifey.” Jessica chimed in, “That one’s for Mr. Davies from Sales. He even printed it in color for you. How thoughtful.” I didn’t argue. I moved on to the next. The entire page was a collage of QR codes with a “helpful” note scrawled beside it: “For the old ladies in finance to scan and generate their own invoices.” I put the stack down and looked at Jessica. I swallowed the words I was about to say—“We’re a legitimate company preparing for an IPO. None of this can be approved.” Instead, I smiled. “My head is killing me. I need to take some medicine. Since you’re so considerate of our colleagues, why don’t you approve them?” 2 Ignoring Jessica’s protests, I walked out. It was almost lunchtime. Instead of working through my break as usual, I left the office. Before the lunch hour was even over, my phone was ringing off the hook with calls from my superiors. In the work group chat, my department head, Amanda, was singling me out. “Chris Miller, my office, now!” I took my time, walking back into the office just one minute before the end of the break. Amanda was there, along with the heads of several other departments. It felt like a public execution. Seeing my calm demeanor, Amanda slammed her hand on the desk. “Chris, I’ve received several complaints about you today. What do you have to say for yourself?” I calmly found a chair and sat down. Before I could speak, Jessica added fuel to the fire. “Director Shaw, look at his attitude! He has no respect for you at all!” Amanda’s face flushed with anger. “Chris Miller, show some respect! Don’t act like you own the place just because you’ve been here a while!” I managed a faint smile. When this company was just a dozen people, I was the head of finance. Now, with a thousand employees, I was still just the head of finance. I carried the risk of a corporate officer but earned a salary comparable to the cleaning staff. I’d thought that as the company grew, I would too. But instead, they brought in Amanda as the new CFO. Amanda was the CEO’s wife. I had no choice but to accept it. On her first day, she tried to expense a Louis Vuitton handbag. She saw nothing wrong with it. “What’s with that look? This is my husband’s company. He put me in charge of the money. It’s perfectly natural for me to use our money to buy a purse.” I had to force a smile. “For an amount this large, we’ll need an invoice.” She was busy applying lipstick in her compact mirror. “What’s an invoice?” she asked vaguely. “Can’t you just figure it out?” She waved me away. “And they said you were a professional. You can’t even handle a small thing like this without bothering me. Useless.” It was impossible to muster any respect for a boss like her. Amanda’s attack was immediately backed by the other department heads. Mr. Davies from Sales spoke up, his tone severe. “Chris, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Times have changed, but you’re still clinging to your outdated rules, constantly picking fights with my department. What is wrong with you?” I shot him a cold look. “Picking fights? Are you referring to the time your department closed a million-dollar deal, spent four hundred thousand on client entertainment, sixty thousand on ‘gifts’ for the client’s executives, and then requested a two-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus, which I rejected?” “Or was it the time you asked me to help a client create a fake two-million-dollar invoice, and I refused?” “You—!” Davies pointed a trembling finger at me, his face turning beet red. He was furious. “Finance is nothing without Sales! I’m the top salesman in this company! You work for me, Chris. It’s not your place to question me!” I didn’t argue. I looked down at my phone. The message I’d sent the CEO this morning was still unanswered. The office was a cacophony of criticism. “Logistics has a problem with you too! You demand detailed receipts for everything. Do you think we’re trying to cheat the company?” “And what about Purchasing? You’re always auditing our contracts. Don’t you trust us?” “HR has some concerns as well…” It was all just noise. I typed another message to the CEO, who was on a business trip. “Sir, could you approve my resignation today?” 3 My phone screen finally lit up. The CEO’s reply had arrived. “Don’t be ridiculous! We’re in the middle of our IPO. You can’t just quit now! Whatever your grievances are, wait until I get back. Don’t cause trouble for me.” Reading his message, the last of my hesitation vanished, replaced by a profound sense of disappointment. I had known for a long time that the CEO didn’t really care about the finance department. If he did, he wouldn’t have brushed me off every time I suggested streamlining the reimbursement process. He wouldn’t have flatly refused my proposal to provide basic financial training for the sales teams. The public shaming continued. Seeing me engrossed in my phone, ignoring her completely, Amanda’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. “Chris Miller, are you even listening? What is this attitude!” I locked my phone and looked up, my face impassive. But my next words stunned everyone into silence. “Director Shaw, everyone, are you finished?” The room fell quiet. I stood up and walked to Amanda’s desk. I picked up the stack of expense reports and gave them a little shake. “Since you all believe that I am inflexible and an obstacle to the company’s progress, fine.” I turned to Jessica and thrust the stack into her hands. My voice was devoid of emotion. “Jessica claims she can be more considerate of everyone’s needs. Then I will hand over all of my responsibilities to her.” “Director Shaw, do you have any objections?” Amanda was thrown off by my unexpected move. But the other department heads, especially Davies, were quick to agree. “I think that’s a great idea! Let’s give Jessica a try! Young people are more adaptable.” “Exactly! It’s time for some fresh blood!” Seeing the enthusiastic support and seizing the opportunity to put me in my place, Amanda went along with it. “Jessica, you will temporarily take over Chris’s duties. Do a good job. Don’t disappoint me.” A look of pure joy and triumph spread across Jessica’s face. She almost jumped for joy. She shot me a defiant look and puffed out her chest. “Don’t worry, Director Shaw, everyone! I will complete all tasks efficiently. You won’t have to wait!” I smiled faintly and added, “I’ll send a company-wide email stating that I have completed the handover of all my duties, and that from this point forward, you will be solely responsible for everything.” Jessica, high on her newfound power, agreed without a second thought. “I know, I know! You don’t have to tell me!” I nodded, said nothing more, and returned to my desk to slowly start packing my personal belongings.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386167”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel