Category: English

At dinner, my husband suddenly asked me: “What would you do if I met someone… better than you?” I was silent for a moment. “Then you should be with her. We can get a divorce.” What he didn’t know was… I had already seen him. Earlier today. I watched him frantically try to comfort that girl, her eyes red from crying. I heard him say, “Don’t cry. I’ll give you a future.” 1 He put his chopsticks down. His face went pale, then twisted into a difficult smile. “Claire, I was just kidding.” It wasn’t a joke. I knew. I knew what his love felt like. Which is how I knew, without a doubt, that what he felt for that girl was real. Earlier today, at the hospital, the doctor’s bored expression softened when he read my chart. He lowered his voice. “Don’t be scared. It’s not late-stage. If you start treatment, this is manageable.” I was walking out with the diagnosis in my hand when I saw them. Mark’s arm was injured. The girl was looking at it, her eyes filling with tears. “Why did I meet you so late?” she whispered. “I don’t even have the right to take care of you.” Mark looked frantic. “Summer, don’t cry,” he said, reaching for her. Blood seeped through his new bandage. “I’ll give you a future.” The words hung in the air. He froze, as if he’d surprised himself. But the girl believed him. She looked up, her nose red. “Really?” Mark just frowned, and said nothing. I didn’t stay to watch the rest. I know Mark. As long as we were married, he wouldn’t physically cheat. But his heart? I can’t control his heart. 2 I wanted to know. What kind of girl was “better” than me? I found her in his phone. Summer. I had to see her for myself. I had to see the person who so easily destroyed eight years. We survived long-distance. We survived the pandemic. We survived being so broke we split a single instant ramen for dinner. But we couldn’t survive a “better person.” I found her on the local college campus. She was exactly what you’d expect. Young. Bright. An elderly janitor was struggling with a heavy trash bin. The bag split, and dozens of empty soda cans clattered across the pavement. Summer, in her cream-colored coat, ran over and started picking them up. She helped the woman get the new bag in place and walked with her for a block. I followed, like a creep. Suddenly, footsteps. A figure moved fast, blocking my view. It was Mark. He was standing between me and the girl, his hands half-raised. His lips were trembling. “Claire… it’s not her fault.” Not her fault. Then whose fault was it? Mine? The girl, Summer, finally noticed me. She looked at me, then quickly looked away, her face full of shame. 3 In a coffee shop. Mark sat across from me, his eyes full of pain. “Claire, I…” He couldn’t say it. I was waiting. Waiting to see if, now that I knew, he would choose to end it with her, or end it with me. He finally, painfully, got the words out. “Claire… I… I don’t think I love you anymore.” I didn’t say anything. My body betrayed me first. My eyes burned. He looked helpless. “Don’t cry…” He stared at me, then slid the napkin dispenser across the table. He let out a long, heavy sigh. “We’ve been together since we were eighteen, Claire. Eight years. I know I’m an asshole. I’m disgusting. But… in eight years… the love just… it turned into family. Into obligation. We can’t fight that. It just happens.” “And her?” I asked. He was silent. “Maybe that will fade, too,” he said. “But… I don’t want to lie to you right now.” He looked up, his voice bitter. “I haven’t done anything. I haven’t slept with her. If you want… we can stay married. We can… keep going. But all I have left to give you is… responsibility. And the rest of my time.” How could I describe that feeling? It wasn’t just sadness. It was… watching yourself drown. You know you’re going to die. You just have to wait for the water to fill your lungs. We sat in silence. Finally, I spoke. “Let’s set a date. To file for divorce.” 4 It was evening when I left the cafe. The sunset was a blinding, angry red. Across the street, someone was hovering by the bus stop. Mark saw her instantly and sprinted across the road, dodging a car. The girl flinched, her face pale. “Summer, what are you doing here?” he said, his voice rough. “I told you to go back to your dorm. Have you been waiting this whole time?” She glanced at me, then dropped her head. “I… I was worried about you…” His whole face softened. “Hey. Don’t be.” A wave of nausea, so sharp and acidic, hit me. I thought I was already at rock bottom. I thought I couldn’t feel any worse. I was wrong.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385886”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After dying from poverty and starvation, I spent a thousand years in the Underworld buttering up the King of Hell. Finally, he agreed to let me choose my next life. Scanning the “Wealthiest Families” list, I didn’t hesitate. I picked the #1 Billionaire family. Blinded by the dream of being a spoiled, only daughter in a crazy rich family, I ignored the “Family Composition” section. The father was a wife-guy to the extreme. The mother was a competitive, jealous psycho. My nightmare started the day they brought me home from the hospital to their mansion. Dad touched my cheek? Mom clawed a chunk of skin off my face, leaving me scarred. I cried from hunger, interrupting Mom’s beauty sleep? Dad stuffed me into the refrigerator until I had third-degree frostbite. My first birthday interrupted their “999th Day Since Our First Kiss” anniversary? They threw me into the fireplace. I burned until there was nothing left but ash. Back in the Underworld. The King of Hell pitied me and suggested I pick another family. But I pointed right back at that same damn family. I looked at the well-preserved, elegant Grandma on the screen and asked the Billionaire Grandpa: “The first account was a bust. Wanna start a new save file?” This time, I’m changing my mom! Grandpa, a vigorous 48-year-old, nodded without hesitation. That night, amidst some passionate sounds, I slipped into Grandma’s womb. A thousand years of sucking up, I wasn’t going to waste it. I was getting into that rich family one way or another! This time, I’m not the third generation. I’m the second generation! The thought of my former “dad” now having to split the inheritance with me, and my former “mom” having to call me “Sister-in-law”… It felt so good. Revenge time. I held onto the umbilical cord, silently absorbing nutrients. I never kicked or fussed when Grandma was resting. She was ex-military, fit as a fiddle. I felt myself growing strong along with her. When the time came, I slid out of Grandma… No, out of Mom’s belly, smooth as silk. Mom held me, beaming. “Honey, our daughter is a lucky baby!” “Birthing her didn’t hurt a bit.” She shot a glare at my former dad, Julian, who was currently being lovey-dovey with my former mom, Chloe. “Unlike someone who almost kicked a hole in my stomach when he was born.” “And now? Married and forgot his mother. Giving birth is like walking through the gates of hell, and he hasn’t even asked how I am…” A pair of large hands gently touched my soft cheek. I smelled the scent of old money coming from my billionaire dad. I gave him a sweet, obedient smile. My former grandpa—now my dad—melted instantly. “You did great, honey. Don’t worry, I’m going to make our daughter the happiest little princess in the world.” Hearing the word “princess,” Chloe’s jealousy radar pinged. She stomped her foot, pointed at her father-in-law, and teared up. “That’s not right!” “Hubby-bear, I’m the little princess, right?” Julian affectionately booped her nose. My mom rolled her eyes. Usually, if she said more than two words to her son, her daughter-in-law would whine for hours. Once, she couldn’t take it and kicked Chloe out. Her useless son threatened to jump off the roof! The Gu family needed an heir, so she had to beg her to come back. But she hated seeing them, so she made them move out. Seeing them only a few times a year, she naturally didn’t know how I was treated in my past life. But now things were different. I was born. If she kept tolerating this, she wouldn’t be worthy of her title as the Billionaire’s Wife and former Military Commander! Mom carried me right off the bed. “You’re over thirty. Can you stop acting like a toddler?” The moment Chloe saw my face, she let out a horrifying shriek! Julian also gasped. “This… isn’t this our dead daughter, Tina?” I suddenly opened my eyes and smirked. Calculating the date, today was the anniversary of my death in my past life. “Ghost! It’s a ghost!” Dad finally snapped. Slap! He backhanded Chloe across the face. “What nonsense are you spouting?!” Chloe burst into loud, ugly tears. I giggled loudly. Mom was infected by my laughter, delightedly poking the corner of my mouth. “What a smart baby. She can feel Mommy and Daddy’s emotions.” Dad put his arm around Mom’s shoulder. “Let’s take my big baby and little baby home to enjoy life.” As we turned the corner, I heard Chloe trembling with rage. She sobbed: “Hubby, did you see her eyes? Could it be… Tina, that little bitch, came back?” Mom and Dad took me home. Looking at the decor, even more luxurious than in my past life, I swore I wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes! After dinner, the private doctor gave Mom a postpartum recovery massage in her room. Dad held me, cooing gently. Suddenly, I stopped smiling. The two villains had arrived. Chloe wiped her tears, looking pitiful. “Dad, I lost my composure at the hospital today.” “You know, today is the anniversary of Tina’s death. Little Sister looks just like her, so I had a bit of a PTSD reaction.” Dad, seeing Chloe’s red eyes, softened a bit. “Alright. Your mom and I don’t blame you.” Forgiven, Chloe looked even more worried. “Dad, giving birth takes a toll on a woman. Mom is an older mother, she needs rest to recover well.” “You’re busy with the company. I’ve been through this, I have experience with babies…” “Hubby and I will move in starting today to help take care of the baby.” Mom was fit, but she didn’t have the energy of a twenty-year-old. Dad hesitated, then nodded. “It’ll be hard work for you then.” Dad, no! You just agreed?! I felt the sky falling. This was the fox guarding the henhouse! I wailed in panic, trying to protest their crimes. But Dad didn’t understand. He just said soothingly: “Aw, why is baby crying? Come here, Daddy’s got you…” Chloe snatched me first. “Dad, your arms are too hard. You’ll hurt the baby.” She pressed my face hard into her chest. My crying stopped instantly. “See, Dad? She stopped crying as soon as I held her.” Hey, wait! It’s not that I don’t want to cry! I literally can’t breathe! I can’t cry! Dad noticed something was off. “Are you holding her too tight?” “Dad, you obviously haven’t raised a baby. Babies are wrapped tight in the womb. Holding them tight gives them security…” Julian chimed in: “Dad, you don’t get it. Tina used to cry all night. We’d tie her up a little, and she’d sleep soundly.” You two have the nerve to bring that up? In my past life, Chloe didn’t just tie me up; she stuffed a rag in my mouth! Seeing that I was indeed quiet, Dad went to the study with Julian, relieved. Once their footsteps faded, Chloe sneered and tossed me onto the bed. “Little bitch. You’re too green to fight me!” Memories of past torture flooded back. I cried out in fear. Chloe slapped my face. “Shut up!” “Those two old fogeys said you love to smile. Why aren’t you smiling?” “Do you know who I am? Are you scared?” She stared down at me, eyes dead. Suddenly, the corner of her mouth curled up. I had a very bad feeling. She took a packet of powder from her bag, mixed it into a milk bottle, and shook it. She walked toward me, smiling grimly. “Baby be good. Sister-in-law is going to feed you.” As she got closer, I smelled peanuts. In my past life, I ate a peanut off the floor and went into anaphylactic shock. It almost killed me. I clamped my mouth shut and turned my head, refusing to let a drop in. Chloe sneered. “Little bitch, still afraid of peanuts, huh…” I forced myself to calm down. I had to save myself. Suddenly, I turned my head and giggled at the door. Chloe looked at the door, startled. Seizing the chance, I reached out and grabbed a handful of her meticulously maintained hair. Chloe screamed in pain. “Bitch! You dare pull my hair!” “Let go, or I’ll kill you!” I pulled harder, practically hanging off her hair! Amidst her screams, a huge patch of hair ripped out, roots and scalp included. Hurried footsteps sounded outside. The door burst open. Mom yelled, “What are you doing?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385902”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My best friend started dating the hottest, richest guy on campus. When she posted the official relationship announcement, my comment was instantaneous: Ask him if he has any friends. A second later, she sent me a picture: her new boyfriend with his crew. Every single one of them was a ten. Her text: Take your pick. I chose the most handsome one. The impossible one. Six months later, I sent her a message: I can’t do this. Maybe I should just pick a different one? 1 My best friend, Olivia, had officially bagged the campus king. Looking at the picture she’d just posted to her Instagram story—her, tucked under Carter Brooks’s arm like she was born there—I immediately fired back a comment. So… does he have a brother? A second later, a photo landed in my DMs. It was Carter with two of his friends, all of them offensively good-looking. Liv’s text followed: Take your pick. I stared at the screen, genuinely torn between two entirely different flavors of handsome. One had eyes that crinkled at the corners and a smirk playing on his thin lips. He was gorgeous, but in a way that screamed “I break hearts for sport.” A player. The other one… his face was all sharp angles and unforgiving lines. His lips were pressed together, his gaze drilling into the camera with an intensity that made my breath catch. He was my type, exactly my type, which usually meant one thing: he was going to be difficult. To hell with difficult. I was in. I circled the second guy’s face and sent it back to Liv. I want that one. A few minutes later, his dossier arrived. Ethan Scott. 6’2”, 185 lbs. Cadet at the military academy across town. Oh, god. A cadet. I glanced down at my own body. I was almost his weight. That evening, Liv organized a small get-together. Staring at my reflection, at the soft curve of my stomach pushing against the fabric of my dress, a familiar wave of doubt washed over me. It was no surprise Liv had landed Carter Brooks; she was the kind of effortlessly beautiful girl who commanded attention just by walking into a room. Me? I had to hold my breath to comfortably zip up a size 12. Could I really pull this off? My phone rang. It was Liv. “Sophie, you better bring your A-game tonight. Dress to kill.” “Liv, maybe I should just bail,” I mumbled, already starting to lose my nerve. Carter Brooks was a legend on campus, a guy from a family with a name. His friends were bound to be in the same league. “Sophie Miller! Don’t you dare,” she commanded, her voice sharp. “The opportunity is right in front of you. Think about that face. Think about the life that comes with a guy like that. This isn’t a date, it’s a lottery ticket.” Fine. Lottery ticket. I was all in. I squeezed into a little black dress, wobbled my way into a pair of heels I never wore, and headed out. Liv had picked a chic rooftop bar. When she saw me, she waved me over with a grin. “Soph, over here!” I slid into the booth next to her. Carter was on her other side, and across from them, there he was. Ethan Scott. His presence was even more striking in person. I’d never seen a guy look so good with a buzz cut. He wore a plain white button-down, but on him, it looked less like a piece of clothing and more like a statement of severe, untouchable discipline. An aura of pure, unfiltered stoicism. I took a gulp of water to calm the frantic hummingbird in my chest. “This is my best friend, Sophie,” Liv announced. “And this is Ethan Scott, Carter’s friend,” she added, giving me a pointed little wink. I managed a smile and a small wave. He returned it with a slow, deliberate nod. “Hey, Liv, what about me?” a voice complained from Ethan’s side. It was the other guy from the picture, the one with the player smile. My god, tonight was a feast for the eyes. My life was officially looking up. “Hi, I’m Noah,” he said, arching an eyebrow in a way that was clearly practiced. “Sophie,” I replied. The night devolved into a game of Truth or Dare. When the empty beer bottle spun and landed squarely on me, Liv gave me a subtle thumbs-up. “Dare,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. Liv’s eyes lit up. “Make eye contact with any guy at this table for thirty seconds. No breaking.” There was no question who I’d choose. I locked eyes with Ethan. His gaze was like a physical weight, deep and unreadable. My heart started hammering against my ribs so loudly I was sure he could hear it. Calm down, you idiot. He’s going to hear you. When the bottle pointed at me a second time, I shot a look at the instigator. Could you be any more obvious, Liv? I chose dare again. “Ask a guy here for his number,” Liv declared, loving the drama. “If he says no, you chug three drinks.” My hands were trembling as I pulled out my phone. I angled it toward Ethan. “Hi. Could I… get your number?” He seemed to finally catch on to the setup, and a slight frown creased his forehead. The moment stretched, thick with awkward silence. Finally, after a sharp nudge from Liv, Carter spoke up. “Come on, Ethan. It’s just a number. The lady’s asking. Don’t be an ass.” In the end, I walked away with his contact saved in my phone. 2 From that day on, I made it my mission to text-harass Ethan Scott. He mostly left me on read, and when he did reply, it was with curt, one-word answers. Liv told me this wasn’t going to cut it. “You have to get him in person, Soph! Physical proximity creates sparks!” I knew she was right. But looking at my reflection, at the soft, rounded version of myself in the mirror, I made a decision. I was going on a diet. That afternoon, I signed up for a gym membership. My goal was to get down to 130 pounds, which meant shedding thirty pounds of flesh that loved hot pot, barbecue, and late-night snacks more than anything. God, it was going to be torture. But maybe love really was magic. The next day, as I was sweating on the treadmill, I pictured Ethan’s severe, handsome face, and my legs pumped a little faster. Which is why I wanted the floor to swallow me whole when I ran into him at that very gym, dressed in a baggy, sweat-stained gray sweatsuit, my face bare and flushed. He stopped short when he saw me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Hey!” A corner of his mouth twitched, amused by my mortified expression. “I thought you were studying at the library.” I froze, remembering the text I’d sent him half an hour ago. My face burned. I was trying to have a secret transformation, to emerge from my cocoon as a beautiful butterfly, and here he was, seeing me as a sweaty caterpillar. “Uh…” I scratched my head, scrambling for an excuse. “Yeah, I was. School’s just so stressful, you know? Came to run it off.” The cringe was unbearable. He didn’t press it. He just took off his jacket and started lifting weights, his muscles flexing under his shirt. Watching the clean, powerful lines of his arms, I silently increased the speed on my treadmill. For the next month, the gym became my sanctuary and my hunting ground. Seeing Ethan there was my primary motivation. We graduated from awkward silence to the occasional joke. The number on the scale dropped from 160 to 150. My clothes went from a Large to a Medium. When Liv saw me again, she grabbed my hands and spun me around. “Sophie! You’ve lost so much weight!” “What can I say? I haven’t tasted barbecue in a month. All for the love of Ethan Scott.” “That’s some serious willpower,” she said, giving me an impressed thumbs-up. While we were out shopping, Liv picked out a blue, off-the-shoulder dress—a style and color I would have never dared to try before. When I stepped out of the fitting room, Liv’s jaw dropped. “Wow, Soph. That dress was literally made for you.” I looked at my reflection. I was still a little soft around the edges, but for the first time in a long time, I liked what I saw. 3 That night, I was lying in bed, sending a barrage of texts to Ethan that were going unanswered. This was unusual. After weeks of my relentless campaign, he’d started responding regularly, even initiating a bit of banter. Then, my phone rang. It was Liv. “Sophie, you need to get over here. Now. It’s a code red.” “What is it?” “Your competition just showed up.” Alarms blared in my head. I shot out of bed, threw on the new blue dress, and raced to the bar she’d sent me the location of. When Ethan saw me, his eyes widened in surprise. My gaze immediately slid to the girl sitting next to him. She was dressed head-to-toe in designer labels, her hair a sheet of perfect silk. Every inch of her screamed expensive, effortless polish. “Hi,” she said, her smile perfectly pleasant. “I’m Amelia Reed. Ethan and I went to high school together.” I mirrored her smile, dialing up the sweetness. “Hi! I’m Sophie Miller. I’m Ethan’s workout buddy.” Ethan stared at me, his eyes wide as dinner plates. I fluttered my eyelashes at him, laying the damsel act on thick. He looked so startled he grabbed his drink and took a nervous sip. I heard Liv choke back a laugh from across the table. Amelia’s perfect smile tightened just a fraction. After that, I ramped up my pursuit. Whenever I had a free moment, I’d head over to the academy, watching him during his training sessions. His classmates started to recognize me. “Hey, Scott, your girlfriend’s here again! Lucky bastard!” they’d yell. Ethan would just shake his head, a resigned look on his face. “She’s not my girlfriend.” The days bled into weeks, and summer turned to fall. My relationship with Ethan, however, remained completely stalled. I complained to Liv that the man was a fortress, impossible to breach. The one silver lining was that my body was transforming. I was getting closer and closer to my goal weight. On Ethan’s birthday, I showed up at his house with a watch I’d spent weeks saving for. He took the gift from my hands. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. Noah popped up from out of nowhere. “Sophie, whoa! You look… different.” “How different?” “Different enough that I’m about to fall in love. You should give up on Ethan and give me a shot.” He said it with a dramatic flair that made me laugh. “Noah, rack the balls,” Ethan said, his tone suddenly sharp. Watching Ethan lean over the pool table was a form of exquisite torture. If he looked that good just bending over a table, I could only imagine what he’d look like… anywhere else. “Hey. Wipe your drool, it’s getting on the floor.” Liv nudged me. “All I can do is drool,” I sighed. “I’ve been at this for three months. If it hasn’t happened by now, it’s never going to happen.” “Has he given you any sign? Anything at all?” I shook my head, my good mood deflating. “Seriously, man, do you like Sophie or not?” I was coming out of the bathroom when I heard Noah’s voice and froze. “I don’t know,” Ethan replied. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Do you get that, like, heart-pounding, butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling when you see her?” A pause. “No.” My nails dug into my palms. I let out a quiet, bitter laugh at my own foolishness. In the adult world, a non-answer is an answer. A lack of response is a rejection. How had I been so blind? 4 I didn’t see Ethan for a week. After hearing those two words, something inside me finally clicked into place. You can’t force someone to love you. I stared at myself in the mirror—hair a tangled mess, dark circles under my eyes. I looked pathetic. After a long shower, I sent Liv a message, trying to make a joke out of my heartbreak. He’s impossible. Guess I’ll just have to find someone else.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385918”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my wedding day, my fiancée was at her parents’ house, waiting for me to pick her up. She never made it to the limo. Instead, she got a call from Nate, the ghost of the boy she was supposed to marry. She brought him to the venue herself and, in a move that felt ripped from a soap opera, simply swapped out the groom. When the news reached me, my world didn’t just collapse; it was vaporized. I begged my parents to drive me there, to get some kind of explanation, to demand an answer for the public humiliation. We never made it. On the way, a truck ran a red light. My parents were killed instantly. My mother’s last act was to throw her body over mine. I survived. The aftermath was a blur of grief and guilt that curdled into a severe case of PTSD. For two years, I was a ghost haunting the ruins of my own life. And through it all, it was Stella’s older sister, Annelise, who never left my side. She was my anchor in a world that had come unmoored. The day I was finally cleared by my therapist, Annelise celebrated by lighting up the city skyline with fireworks, just for me. Her eyes, glistening with tears in the colored light, met mine. “Will you marry me, Ethan?” she asked. After two years of her unwavering devotion, of her pulling me back from the brink time and again, my heart had already become hers. I nodded, my own tears finally falling not from grief, but from a desperate, fragile hope. Three years into our marriage, she got pregnant. I was so ecstatic I wanted to rent a billboard. But that same night, I overheard her on the phone with her assistant, her voice a low, urgent whisper in her home office. “I’ve been on birth control this whole time. How could this happen? I can’t have this baby. I promised Nate I wouldn’t have another man’s child.” The assistant’s voice trembled. “But if Mr. Hayes finds out… this could get very messy.” “And what about the accident from five years ago?” the assistant pressed. “If that ever came out, if he knew we were the ones who arranged it…” Annelise’s laugh was like the chime of a cracked bell. “For Nate, I’d do anything.” “Besides,” she added, her voice dropping to ice, “I married him, didn’t I? Isn’t that enough?” 1 “But Ms. Prescott, he’s wanted this baby for three years. Losing it… I think it might destroy him.” The assistant’s plea was faint through the closed door. “You orchestrated that crash just so Nate could marry your sister without a scene. Mr. Hayes almost died. Haven’t you done enough? Are you really going to sacrifice your own child now?” I could hear the soft, rhythmic sound of Annelise’s fingers stroking something on her desk. I knew it was the small, polished wooden box she always kept there. Her voice was thick with a martyr’s resolve. “What does it matter? All I want is for Nate to be happy. For him to marry the woman he loved, I had to make sure Ethan and his family never made it to that wedding.” Her tone was chillingly pragmatic. “The crash… I admit it wasn’t handled perfectly. Ethan survived. But I corrected that mistake, didn’t I? I married him. His future is secure.” She paused. “As for this child, it can’t stay. Nate’s wife is already four months along. I will not let my baby become an obstacle to his. As long as Nate’s life is perfect, I’ll have no regrets.” “I’ll have Ethan take me to the clinic tomorrow for a check-up. I’ll get the doctor to say the fetus isn’t viable. He can’t argue with that, no matter how much it hurts him…” I couldn’t listen anymore. I stumbled back to our bedroom, my legs giving out as soon as I shut the door behind me. I slid to the floor, my body a dead weight. My marriage. My life. It was all a meticulously crafted lie. My parents’ death wasn’t an accident. My wife… the woman who held me through nightmares… was their killer. And now, she was planning to kill our child. After my parents died, I had drowned in self-blame. I believed my insistence on confronting Stella was the reason they were on that road. It was a guilt so profound it broke my mind. During the worst of my episodes, doctors had to strap me to the bed, because the moment I was free, I’d try to hurt myself, to claw my way out of a life I couldn’t bear. And through all of it, Annelise was there, whispering, “It wasn’t your fault, Ethan. It was a tragic accident.” It wasn’t an accident. It was proof of her love for another man. And now, to ensure Nate’s child would have an undisputed claim to the Prescott family fortune, she was willing to sacrifice her own. My parents’ bodies, my entire life, and soon, the life of my unborn child—all of it buried beneath the monument of her twisted devotion to Nate. My hands began to shake uncontrollably. I thought of just an hour ago, how I’d knelt and pressed my ear to her still-flat stomach, giddy with joy. The child I had prayed for for three years was in there. But it was also the child of my parents’ murderer. As I sat there, paralyzed by the horror, Annelise walked in and found me on the floor. “Ethan? Honey, what’s wrong? Get up, the floor is cold. Are you not feeling well?” The concern in her eyes was so potent it was almost tangible, identical to the look she’d given me every day for the past five years. She was a master of her craft. For five years, her entire world had seemingly revolved around me. If I so much as coughed, she’d stay up all night, a hand on my forehead. I dropped my gaze, unable to bear the sight of that fraudulent fire in her eyes. “I’m fine. Just… got a little light-headed. I guess the news about the baby finally hit me.” She breathed a sigh of relief, kneeling down to help me up with that familiar, gentle strength. “Oh, you,” she murmured, patting her own stomach. “Naughty baby, making your daddy fall down already. Just wait until we meet you, I’ll have a thing or two to say.” She smiled up at me. “Speaking of which, Ethan, come with me to the clinic tomorrow for a check-up. We’ve waited so long for this little one, we can’t take any chances.” Her gaze drifted down to her abdomen, her expression softening into a portrait of maternal love. If I hadn’t heard that phone call, I would have believed every word. I would have seen a loving wife, an expectant mother. Now, I saw only a monster. I wanted to scream the questions at her. Will we really get to meet this child? Did you ever want him at all? Instead, I swallowed the acid in my throat and nodded. “Let’s get some sleep, Annelise. I’m feeling tired.” She didn’t suspect a thing, nodding as she switched off the lights. I lay in the darkness, rigid, listening to her breathing even out beside me. Hours later, a soft murmur escaped her lips in the quiet of the room. “Nate… Oh, Nate…” A single, hot tear finally broke free, tracing a path from my eye into my hairline, and was gone. I slipped my phone from under the pillow, the screen a harsh glare in the dark. I sent a text to my sister in London. Kate, I need your help. Please, I need your help. I’m coming to you in a few days. Wait for me. 2 The next morning, Annelise took me to the private clinic affiliated with the Prescott Corporation. As we approached the doctor’s office, the door opened and Nate walked out. Seeing him alone, Annelise’s carefully composed face tightened with worry. “Nate? What are you doing here? Where’s Stella? Isn’t today her prenatal appointment? Are you sick?” Her questions tumbled out, her concern raw and undisguised. I had to laugh at myself. A bitter, silent laugh. How had I been so blind for so long? Was her acting that flawless, or was I just that stupid? A faint smile touched Nate’s lips, soaking in her worry like a sponge. “Things have been crazy at the office, a situation at one of the branches. I came in for a check-up, feeling a little run down. Stella’s staying at her parents’ for a few days.” He looked from her to me. “What about you? You’re not sick, are you?” Annelise flushed, a flicker of discomfort in her eyes. She seemed reluctant to answer. I decided to answer for her. Feigning a blissful smile, I placed a hand on her stomach. “She’s pregnant,” I said, my voice smooth. “I was worried about her, and the baby. Just wanted to get everything checked out.” I knew I had already lost this war, but for one single, fleeting moment, I wanted to reclaim a shred of my dignity. It worked. The color drained from Nate’s face. “What? You’re pregnant?” He quickly schooled his features, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Well. A baby is wonderful news. I’m just… surprised. You should go on in.” Before she went into the exam room, Annelise told me she’d had to fast for some of the tests and hadn’t eaten breakfast. She asked me to go down to the cafe and grab her something, insisting she’d be fine on her own. A year ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice. Now, watching her back disappear into the clinic, a cold certainty settled in my gut. I bought a coffee and a croissant and came back up. As I expected, the exam room was empty. I walked down the hall and heard voices coming from a stairwell. I found them there, tucked away between floors. Nate’s brow was furrowed, his handsome face marred with displeasure. “You told me you would never have his child. Why are you pregnant?” Annelise wrapped her arms around his waist, reaching up to smooth the lines on his forehead with her thumb. Her voice was a placating murmur. “We were always careful. This was an accident, Nate. I’ll handle it. I’ll take care of this baby myself.” She soothed him. “Don’t be upset over something so small. It hurts me to see you unhappy.” My feet felt like lead as I walked back to the waiting area and sank onto a bench. Her words echoed in my head. Something so small. Killing her own child was a small thing. Nate’s unhappiness? That was the main event. “Why are you waiting out here?” Annelise’s voice pulled me from the fog. “I just ran to the restroom. Let me go ask the doctor if the results are ready.” I just nodded, watching her walk back into the office. A few minutes later, she emerged, her face a mask of sorrow. She knelt in front of me, bringing her eyes level with mine. “Ethan,” she began, her voice catching. “I have to tell you something. I need you to promise me you won’t get upset. Please, don’t fall apart.” “The test results… they’re not good. There are… developmental problems. So this baby… we can’t keep him.” I knew this was coming. I had heard the entire script. But a desperate, stupid part of me still hoped. I stared directly into her eyes. “Annelise, I’m only going to ask you this once. And I want you to tell me the truth.” She nodded solemnly, her expression one of deep sympathy. I took a breath. “Is there really something wrong with our baby? Are we really not going to have him?” 3 For a split second, a flicker of hesitation crossed her face. But before I could even process it, her voice, steady and firm, cut through the air. “Yes.” Looking into her unwavering eyes, I finally gave up the fight. I closed my own and gave a heavy, final nod. The moment I agreed, Annelise was a whirlwind of efficiency, arranging the procedure with the hospital staff. The Prescott family clinic was nothing if not effective. An hour later, she was being wheeled into an operating room. She was back in a private recovery room in less than thirty minutes. My gaze fell to her flat stomach. My throat burned. Yesterday, there was a life in there. Now, there was nothing. She noticed where I was looking. “Ethan, don’t be sad,” she said, her voice soft and consoling. “We’re still young. We’ll have another baby.” My heart seized in my chest. Will we? Annelise, will we really? Before I could speak, a cheerful voice cut in from the doorway. “Hey, don’t look so down, Ethan! The baby’s gone, but you still have Annelise.” It was Nate. “Look at how much she cares about you,” he continued, strolling into the room. “Fresh out of surgery, and her first thought is to comfort you. What a wife.” He feigned a wince, rubbing his temple. “You know, I’ve been having these headaches lately. I think I’ll check in for a couple of days, get a full workup. We can keep each other company.” I looked up at him, not missing the triumphant glint in his eyes. I barely knew Nate. I knew he and the Prescott sisters had grown up together, the classic childhood friends. They’d lost touch when he went to college overseas while they stayed in the States. I met Stella in college. It was immediate for me. I fell for her the first day I saw her and spent the next year trying to win her over. I knew from the start she had an ex, someone she’d broken up with because of the distance. But once we were together, Stella swore to me that Nate and his entire family were gone for good. That there was no chance they’d ever get back together. I believed her. Our relationship grew serious. She introduced me to her family and friends, including her older, more reserved sister, Annelise. And then came our wedding day. Stella got the call that Nate was back in the country, and she dropped me, dropped everything, to marry him instead. In that moment, I understood that in our four years together, she had never, for a single second, forgotten him. What I didn’t know was that Nate wasn’t just Stella’s long-lost love. In all the years Stella was waiting for Nate… Annelise had been waiting for him, too. I looked at him, standing there gloating, and my voice came out colder than I’d ever heard it. “You should call me brother-in-law.” 4 Nate froze. Annelise immediately jumped to his defense. “Ethan, he’s just trying to be friendly. Why do you have to be so difficult?” She sighed, a sound of pure exhaustion. “You know what, I’m not feeling well after the procedure. Why don’t you go home? You can handle some things at the office for me. I’ll call you tonight when you can come back.” Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, sucking the air from my lungs. Annelise is Stella’s sister. I am Annelise’s husband. Nate, as Stella’s husband, is my brother-in-law. It was a simple statement of fact. And for saying it, she was kicking me out. In front of Nate, she couldn’t even be bothered to keep up the pretense. I left. Hours passed. The sun went down. Annelise never called. Instead, a text from Nate lit up my phone. Annelise is having some abdominal pain. I rushed back to the hospital. As I neared her room, I heard it. A series of low, rhythmic moans that made the hair on my arms stand up. The door was cracked open just enough to see inside. And what I saw burned itself onto the back of my eyelids. Nate and Annelise, tangled together in the hospital bed, their bodies moving in a frantic, desperate rhythm. “Right here in the hospital,” Annelise panted, her voice thick with pleasure. “So thrilling.” Her pale arms were wrapped around his shoulders. “Not so fast,” she gasped. “Be gentle… I just had the surgery today.” Nate didn’t slow down. “Doesn’t that make it more exciting? Tell me you didn’t miss this.” As he spoke, he turned his head slightly. His eyes met mine through the crack in the door. And in that instant, I understood everything. Nate did this on purpose. He sent the text. He left the door open. He wanted me to see. I saw the taunting smile play on his lips. I lowered my gaze, reached out a steady hand, and gently, quietly, pulled the door shut for them. I had never seen that wild, unrestrained side of Annelise. In our three years of marriage, even in bed, she had always been tender, controlled, almost serene. Did she love him this much? Enough to risk her health, her body, just hours after a medical procedure? It turned out she wasn’t a cold person. The fire just wasn’t for me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385934”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Because my boyfriend, Jace, had… stamina, our sex life was adventurous. We were always trying new things. To get me to agree, he’d murmur the same promise: “The second you graduate, we’re getting married.” I believed him. So I overloaded on credits, busting my ass to graduate a year early. At night, I secretly studied everything I could find—new techniques, new positions—all to keep him satisfied. Until one night, I was studying late, missed my dorm’s curfew, and went to the bar to find him. I overheard him talking to his friends. “Jace, man, is your girlfriend really that wild?” “What, you think I’m lying?” Jace’s voice was slick with pride. “She’s a masterpiece. I trained her myself.” “What about Mia, then?” Jace took a long drag from his cigarette. His voice went soft. “She’s different. She’s… pure.” In that single second, I started to hate him. I went back to campus and called my professor. “That classified project you mentioned? I want in.” From this moment on, my life would have only one purpose. 1 “Professor, that opening on the Vanguard Project… I want it.” My professor paused, surprised. “Are you sure, Elara? Once you’re in, you’ll be in a secure facility. No contact with the outside world for at least five years.” “Last week you told me you were getting married as soon as you graduated.” I stood in front of my mirror, tracing the constellation of hickies across my collarbone. My smile was hollow. “Not anymore. From now on, I just want to serve my country.” Seeing my resolve, he didn’t argue. “The transport to the facility leaves in three days. You should take this time to say goodbye to your fiancé.” “You two are engaged, after all.” I nodded, looking down at the simple ring on my hand. My eyes burned. Yeah. We were engaged. My phone buzzed. A text from Jace. [Why aren’t you answering? Come out. I’m bored.] The address was the same bar. I didn’t reply right away. I opened my laptop, triple-checked my application, and clicked “submit.” Then, I went to meet him. 2 “What took you so long?” Jace was slouched on the sofa, annoyed by my lateness. “Couldn’t get an Uber. Had to wait.” I lied, moving to sit next to him. He caught my waist, his grip hard, and tugged me back. His voice was playful. “Up. That’s not your spot.” It was like a switch. The whole booth erupted in laughter. “Yeah, Elle, that’s not your spot,” Jace’s best friend, Mike, chimed in, his eyes full of sleazy amusement. “You don’t get to sit on the couch. You know where you go. Jace’s lap.” The others joined in, their voices thick with implication. “That’s right. Look around. All our dates are where they’re supposed to be.” I looked. He was right. Several of the guys in his crew had women perched on their laps, all of them in tiny dresses. As I watched, the men’s hands started to roam, and the sound of short, sharp breaths filled the air. Mike, while kneading the thigh of the woman in his lap, looked at me. “Don’t just stand there, Elle. Take care of our boy.” I said nothing. My heart felt like it had dropped into my stomach. I recognized these women. They were regulars here, known for leaving with different men every night. And I was Jace’s fiancée. At least, that’s what he called me. I touched the ring on my finger and looked at him. I was waiting for him to say something. To stop this. Jace didn’t even look at me. He just stared into his drink, pretending not to hear the humiliation in their voices. Finally, when the silence stretched, he let out an annoyed sigh and held out a hand. “They’re just messing around. Don’t take it seriously.” When I still didn’t move, he finally put on a show, shooting them a half-hearted glare before pulling me down next to him. “Alright, stop pouting. I’ll tell them to knock it off.” The party started up again. I sat stiffly in his embrace, my mind racing, trying to figure out how to break up with him. Suddenly, the door to the private room opened. Mia. Dressed in a white sundress, looking like an angel. “Jace?” Instantly, every guy in the booth shoved the women off their laps. Including Jace. He pushed me off his lap so fast I nearly stumbled. He was on his feet, walking over to Mia, and covering her eyes with his hand. His voice was all gentle concern. “Mia, sweetie, hang on. Let us clean up a little.” He shot a warning look at the others. “Get them out of here. I don’t want Mia seeing this.” The room scrambled. Windows were opened. The women were ushered out. Someone even flipped on the bright overhead lights, illuminating the whole room. It illuminated everything but the darkness in my chest. So this is what it looked like when Jace actually cared about someone. I’d lost my appetite. I stood up and walked toward the door. My movement caught someone’s eye. “Jace! Man, Elle’s still here.” Jace frowned, his first instinct to snap, “So? She’s used to it…” He caught himself, but it was too late. He awkwardly dropped his hand from Mia’s eyes. “Mia’s just a kid,” he said, trying to cover. “She hasn’t been around this stuff. She’s not like you.” I laughed. It was a dry, awful sound. He forgot. Mia is a year older than I am. But I wasn’t the one he cared about, so my feelings didn’t matter. I walked around them. Mia stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Elle, please don’t be mad,” she said, her voice a sweet, timid whisper. “I just came to return this.” She opened a velvet ring box. Inside was a diamond so large it looked fake. “I saw the ring on your hand, and I just mentioned that I wished I had one too…” she trailed off, glancing shyly at Jace. “I never thought Jace would remember. He just… he bought me this to cheer me up. He said it’s a custom design, the kind they only make one of. I felt so guilty, I had to come and give it back… to you.” She said give it back, but her hand was clamped around that box like a vise. I looked down at the plain, thin silver band on my own finger. I suddenly felt ridiculous. Two years. 730 days. And all I got was a $20 silver ring. In bed and out of it, I was cheap. I took two steps back, and for the first time in our relationship, I didn’t care about his “face.” I pulled the door open and left. The room behind me was silent, then someone let out a snort. “Who the hell does she think she is, walking out on Jace?” “Shut up!” Jace’s voice was sharp, furious. 3 It was 3 AM. The streets were empty. The wind was cold. I met Jace two years ago, working a catering gig. He told me he’d never met anyone so “pure.” He wanted a relationship that would last forever. I thought it was a joke. I turned him down, over and over. Until that New Year’s Eve. My stepfather, drunk, picked the lock on my bedroom door. I was terrified. I called Jace. It was a blizzard, but he came. He pulled me out of that hell and promised he would give me a home. I wanted a home so badly. In two years, he’d coaxed me into a hundred different fantasies, and with every one, he promised we’d get married. But we’d been “engaged” for six months, and I just now realized… other than this cheap ring, I’d never even met his family. Some engagement. Some love. Some… me. Tears blurred my vision. I yanked the ring off my finger and threw it into a storm drain. I’m done, Jace. I’m not marrying you. I had two days left. 4 The next morning, I was packing when Jace finally came home. He saw my suitcase and grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?” I didn’t look at him. “Finals are coming up. I’m moving back into the dorm.” His expression relaxed. He slid his arms around my waist from behind, his voice dropping to that familiar, husky tone. “How long? You know I can’t last long without you.” I used to love it when he talked to me like that. Now, it just made me want to throw up. I pulled out of his grip and kept packing. His eyes scanned the room and landed on my bare hands. His voice went cold. “Where’s your ring? Why aren’t you wearing it?” The rapid-fire questions almost made me flinch. “It got dirty. I took it off to clean it.” I don’t know if I imagined it, but he seemed… relieved. He laughed, a casual, dismissive sound. “If it’s dirty, just toss it. It wasn’t expensive. I’ll buy you a better one tomorrow.” Right. Not expensive. Two years ago, when he “proposed,” we were in a hotel room. After sex, I’d asked him, my voice raw, “Jace, are you ever going to marry me?” He’d stared at me for a second, then reached into his jeans, pulled out this plain silver ring, and slid it onto my finger. No flowers. No audience. No bended knee. And I was stupid enough to think it meant forever. It’s hilarious, really. I zipped the suitcase. As I went to the bathroom to wash my face, my phone buzzed. A social media tag. It was Mia’s feed. She’d posted a video of a proposal. In the shaky footage, Jace, encouraged by a cheering crowd, was on one knee, sliding that massive diamond ring onto her finger. The diamond flashed. It burned my eyes. I refreshed the page. The video was gone. Instead, a private message from her. [Elle, don’t be mad! It was just a joke we were playing last night!] [I don’t know why it tagged you, I’m so sorry! We were all agreeing not to tell you!] [You’re not mad, are you?] The taunts kept coming. Outside, Jace knocked on the bathroom door. “Elara? What kind of ring do you want? I’ll take you to pick one out tomorrow, okay?” The disconnect was so profound it felt like a physical knife, twisting in my already shredded heart. I took a shaky breath and called out. “Okay.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385950”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The night I got married, my wife’s best friend kept her out drinking on a rooftop until dawn, leaving me alone in our wedding suite. When I finally went to find them, her friend was gloriously drunk. She grabbed my arm and launched into a detailed account of all the ways Olivia’s ex-boyfriend was perfect for her, and all the ways I wasn’t. And Olivia, my wife, just sat there and said nothing. … It was two in the morning when I found them on the roof of the hotel. Olivia and Maya were still drunk, empty beer bottles scattered around their feet like fallen soldiers. Maya saw me and let out a slurred, theatrical laugh. “Ethan’s here! Perfect timing for a trip down memory lane.” She offered me a bottle. I gently pushed it away. “Sorry, I don’t drink.” She giggled, and I couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or malice. “Ethan, you’re probably not going to like what I have to say, but for both your sakes, it needs to be said.” Her tone shifted, becoming unnervingly serious. “You know, Leo was Olivia’s ex,” she began, her words heavy. “Back when they were together, we did everything as a pack. Dinner, drinks… hell, we’d run a five-stack in Valorant until the sun came up.” She gestured vaguely toward Olivia. “Since you two got together, Liv never has time for us anymore. Can’t call her out for late-night food runs. She has to sneak out to pull an all-nighter with us, then rush back to be awake and perky for your morning chat, and then she has to be on a call with you while she falls asleep.” “I just don’t get it,” she said, rolling up her sleeves as if preparing for a fight. “Why are you so high-maintenance? I’ve never seen a guy demand so much.” She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but all of us girls… we feel sorry for Olivia. We don’t say it to her face, but none of us thought you two would last.” “We all thought she’d get back with Leo. I mean, who could possibly be a better match for her? And then, suddenly, you’re married.” She sighed dramatically. “But hey, you’re together now, so I genuinely wish you the best. Consider everything I just said a fart in the wind. And I don’t care what you think of me after this. I’d do anything for my best friend.” My gaze shifted to Olivia. She was silent, her eyes fixed on the tips of her shoes. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. This was the “best friend” Olivia always talked about. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. At the wedding reception earlier, during the maid of honor speech, while everyone else wished us a lifetime of happiness, Maya had smirked into the microphone and said, “Even though you’re married, you better still show up for game nights.” The emcee had laughed it off. “Sounds like the bride’s got a strict warden at home!” I didn’t find it funny then. I certainly didn’t find it funny now. 2 I remember the first time Olivia was supposed to introduce me to her “best friends.” It was early in our relationship. I’d made an effort, picked out a nice shirt. While we were waiting at the restaurant, Olivia took a call. “What’s taking you guys so long?” she asked, her voice hushed. “I told you, my boyfriend is with me.” I couldn’t hear the other side, just the faint, sharp spike of Maya’s voice through the receiver: “It’s our girls’ night, what’s he doing here?” Olivia’s back went rigid. She walked out of the private dining room, phone pressed to her ear. When she returned, she avoided my eyes and reached for her coat. “They had something come up last minute. We have to cancel.” Only a fool would have believed that. “Your friends don’t want to meet me, do they?” “No, of course not.” “Then why did you have to take the call outside?” “The signal was bad,” she said, a little too quickly. “Look, don’t be so sensitive. They’re my best friends. They don’t have a problem with you. You’ll see once you get to know them.” I was skeptical, but her words put a strange pressure on me. It felt like an audition. If they were so great, and they didn’t like me, then the problem must be mine. When the formal introduction finally happened, there were four of them. Three women—Maya, and another named Chloe—and one guy, Leo. They were already seated when Olivia and I arrived. There were curt nods and a round of brief hellos before they immediately resumed their previous conversation, as if we hadn’t walked in. “Another round?” someone asked. “Please, you’re always the first one under the table.” I tried to slide into the easy, cheerful atmosphere. “So what does everyone usually like to drink?” The laughter died instantly. The room, which had been buzzing with energy, fell silent. The quick, darting glances they exchanged made my skin prickle. Leo finally spoke, without looking at me. “Nothing special. Whatever’s on tap.” He then turned to Maya. “I’m not in the mood for Bud Light. Get something else.” Maya grinned. “Yes, sir, your highness.” As Leo stood up, he knocked over a glass of water. It splashed across the table, soaking the front of his shirt. I was closest to him and held out a napkin. He didn’t even glance at it. He completely ignored me, turning to Maya. “Seriously? My favorite white shirt,” he complained. “Anybody got a napkin?” People scrambled to help. I gently tugged on his sleeve, holding the napkin out again. It was like I was a ghost. He didn’t react, just called out toward Maya, “Hurry up, I’m dying over here.” My hand hung awkwardly in the air before I slowly pulled it back. Under the table, Olivia patted my knee. “He didn’t hear you,” she whispered. “Don’t take it personally.” After the drinks arrived, the conversation turned to a new TV show everyone was watching. Coincidentally, it was one I’d been following, too. We started chatting, and for a moment, I felt myself connecting with the others, especially Chloe. “Oh my god, you watch it too? You’re one of us!” she said excitedly. “Give me your number, I’ll add you to our fan group chat.” I was about to pull out my phone when Leo set his glass down on the table. It wasn’t a slam, but the clink was sharp and deliberate, cutting through the chatter. Everyone instinctively looked at him. He was frowning, studying his hands. “This is so annoying,” he muttered. The air froze. All attention snapped back to him. The words I was about to say were caught in my throat. “Uh oh, what’s wrong with our pretty boy today?” Maya teased. “Who pissed you off?” Leo just turned his head, giving her a cold shoulder. “Come on, what is it?” Chloe nudged him. “Tell us.” Finally, bathed in the spotlight of their collective gaze, he spoke, his voice laced with a theatrical mix of annoyance and a subtle, preening pride. “You guys are so nosy. It’s nothing, really. Just this new girl at my office. She’s asked me out seven times this month.” “Whoa, persistent!” Maya slapped the table. “Who is this chick? We’ll take care of her for you.” “Nah, it’s fine. She’ll give up eventually.” “Maybe Olivia can help?” someone suggested, glancing at her slyly. “Your offices are in the same building. Super convenient.” Olivia’s hand, holding her water glass, paused for a fraction of a second. She didn’t reply. Leo’s eyes finally flickered toward Olivia, then floated over to me, a feather-light touch. A faint smirk played on his lips. “No need. Besides, someone might get jealous now.” He sighed dramatically. “You all promised you’d stay single with me until I found a girlfriend, and then Olivia had to go and bail on us.” And in that moment, I understood. He didn’t give a damn about the girl from his office. He just couldn’t stand it, not even for a few minutes, when he wasn’t the center of attention. My very existence was the problem. Seeing my silence, Leo laughed it off. “Just kidding, man. This is just how we are. Don’t take it so seriously.” He then turned to Olivia, speaking to her directly for the first time all night. “How’s the ankle?” Olivia was in the middle of placing a piece of short rib on my plate. She didn’t stop, just gave a noncommittal “Mm,” as she finished. Her eyes stayed on my plate, her voice as neutral as if discussing the weather. “It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt to walk anymore.” It was only later that I learned to read the knowing, subtle expressions that passed between them. Leo’s question was a thread, and he pulled it. “Did Olivia ever tell you about our hiking trip?” I shook my head. Olivia and I had our own lives; we trusted each other enough to have separate experiences. Chloe jumped in. “We weren’t even an hour in when we hit this stream. Leo didn’t want to get his new sneakers wet, so we tried to find another way around.” “But you know those canyon trails, they twist and turn. Going off-path is a bad idea,” she continued. “We were trying to find a shallower crossing, but the stream just got wider and we all got separated. We were lost until after dark.” “Leo ended up twisting his ankle,” she finished. “And Olivia basically had to carry him out of there.” “It wasn’t until they got to the ER that we realized Liv’s ankle was sprained too. She never said a word.” A faint, self-satisfied smile hung on Leo’s lips. I turned to Olivia. “I was on that business trip then. Why didn’t you tell me?” She smiled gently. “And do what? Make you worry from a thousand miles away? It was nothing, just a minor sprain.” “But when I burned my hand last month, you changed your flight, took a red-eye, and sat with me all night. Why is it different when it’s you?” Chloe chimed in playfully. “Aww, stop it, you two! Boyfriends get special treatment, I guess.” Clack. The sharp sound of chopsticks hitting a plate. It was Leo. He stared down at his dish, his expression unreadable. Maya saw it and quickly clapped her hands. “Alright, alright, enough of the lovey-dovey stuff. Let’s play a game!” At her suggestion, we started a round of Truth or Dare, spinning a beer bottle. As if guided by fate, the first spin landed on Olivia. Leo asked the question. “Simple one.” He paused for effect. “Everyone at this table falls into a river. Who do you save first?” The air grew thick. Olivia’s brow furrowed slightly. She squeezed my hand under the table. Her voice was perfectly level. “Ethan.” The smile on Leo’s face froze for a split second. Later, it was his turn to spin. The bottle pointed to Olivia again. He was drunk now, his words slurring. “Olivia,” he started, his voice trembling with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Do you… do you ever miss…” Even an idiot could feel the shift in the room. Maya shot to her feet. “Okay, he’s wasted. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. I think we’re done for the night. We’ll get him home.” She and Chloe scrambled to pull a limp Leo to his feet. He sagged against them, all the energy drained from his body. Olivia didn’t look at him. She stood up silently. I took her coat from the back of her chair and draped it over her shoulders. The gesture was careful, deliberate, as if the tense interrogation had never happened. “Let’s go home,” she said to me, her voice flat. The room was a mess of dirty plates and the silent, lingering smoke of a battle just fought. The earlier noise felt like a dream. Now, only a cold quiet remained. The other two friends gave me a quick, tight smile and hurried out. We walked to the restaurant’s entrance in silence. The night air was cool. Maya and the others left without so much as a proper goodbye. As their taillights vanished around the corner, Olivia let out a nearly inaudible sigh and squeezed my hand. “Home,” she said. 3 In the car, I broke the silence. “I don’t think your friends like me. Especially Leo.” Olivia, key in the ignition, paused. “He was just drunk and talking nonsense. They all like you, don’t overthink it.” “This was our first time meeting. Don’t jump to conclusions. You’ll see.” “I don’t want to see them again.” She looked at me, her expression softening. “Ethan, I’ve known them for years. We’ve only been together for one. I can’t just cut them out of my life because we’re a couple.” “That’s just Leo’s personality,” she added. “He’s not a bad guy. You just have to get used to him.” “I’m not trying to isolate you from your friends, Olivia. But you have a group where one guy is the center of the universe, and all the women cater to him. My presence makes him uncomfortable, and it makes everyone else uncomfortable.” She was quiet for a long moment. “Okay,” she finally said. “Let’s not rush to judgment. If you don’t like it, we won’t see them for a while. Let’s just put it on hold.” At that moment, her phone buzzed. It was a group chat notification from Maya. I couldn’t help but see the message preview on the screen. “Tomorrow is Leo’s birthday. Come alone.” 4 But I didn’t know about the party then. The morning of Leo’s birthday, Olivia was up early. When I woke up, she had already come back from somewhere and made breakfast. A green smoothie and avocado toast, my favorite. The plate was still warm; she must have timed it perfectly. My internal clock was regular, and she always managed to have breakfast ready just as I was getting up. But this time, she wasn’t in the apartment. I checked my phone. No new messages. Nothing from her. I finished eating and still, she wasn’t back. I found myself staring at the empty plate, my mind racing, until I finally decided to just clear my head. My approach to relationships has always been simple: focus on the feeling, not the speculation. And on the whole, Olivia was a wonderful girlfriend. She was good to me. I took my plate to the sink. Just then, the door opened and Olivia came in, still in her workout clothes. She immediately put on an apron and walked over. “The florist just got a new shipment of Sunrich sunflowers and Juliet roses. They’re in the living room. If you don’t get them in water soon, they’ll wilt.” Her tone was pointedly casual. It was quite a detour for her to go all the way to that specific flower shop after her morning run. I was about to say something when her phone started buzzing incessantly with notifications. “Your phone’s blowing up. Don’t you want to get that?” She slipped it into her pocket and leaned in to give me a quick, soft kiss. “It’s nothing important.” The sound of the faucet turning on filled the kitchen. “Dishes are my job, flowers are yours.” I went to the living room and gathered the bouquet, then headed to the entryway closet to find the shears. Inside, a high-end designer shopping bag was tucked away on the shelf. “What’s this?” I called out, holding up the bag. There was no answer from the kitchen. The silence stretched on for so long I started to wonder if I’d even spoken aloud. When Olivia came out, drying her hands, she saw me on the sofa with the bag on the coffee table. She was completely composed. The running water must have drowned out my question. “I was going to give it to you tomorrow for the first day of autumn,” she said, glancing at the bag. “You found it early.” I looked up at her. “Autumn?” “Everyone on Instagram is posting their ‘first pumpkin spice latte of the season.’ You don’t like sweet coffee, so I bought you a bracelet instead.” I opened the bag and the box inside. Two identical men’s chain bracelets lay nestled side-by-side. I paused, then couldn’t help but smile. “Was it a buy-one-get-one-free sale?” I teased. “Or did you buy one for someone else and forget to take it out?” Olivia feigned a look of annoyed frustration. “Oh, you found me out. Now what am I going to do?” “Olivia!” I shot her a look. She laughed and pulled out her phone, showing me a screenshot from the sales associate. Two delicate chains were layered on a model’s wrist in a stylish, overlapping fashion. The caption from the salesperson read: “Ma’am, I recommend getting two for a stacked look. It’s the new trend this year.” She took one of the bracelets and carefully fastened it around my wrist. “Do you like it?” she asked, her thumb gently stroking the metal. I nodded, satisfied. “I do.” As for the incessant calls that morning, I found out later they were from Maya, on behalf of Leo. He always seemed to have some “not important” reason that required Olivia’s immediate attention. But in the end, Olivia didn’t go. That evening, when Maya showed up at our door, she was practically radiating anger. Olivia stood in the doorway, making no move to invite her in. “Why weren’t you there today?” Maya demanded. “Isn’t it obvious? I was with my boyfriend.” Maya’s brow furrowed. “Are you kidding me? Do you know what day it is? He didn’t say anything, but he was waiting for you all day.” “I don’t care what you have going on, you are coming with me right now.” Olivia didn’t budge. “Is Ethan forcing you to stay? Is he not letting you go out?” “It’s a special day, Maya. You two can be attached at the hip every other day of the year, I don’t care. But today, you have to come.” Olivia’s expression remained unchanged. “Did he ask you to come get me?” “No. But you know what he’s like. Are you really going to make him ask? You’re the girl. What’s the big deal if you give in a little?” A small, wry smile touched Olivia’s lips. “The only person I make concessions for is my partner. That was true then, and it’s true now.” “How long have you known us? And how long have you known him? I’ll pass along your message, Olivia. But don’t come crying to me when you regret this.” Maya turned and left, slamming the door behind her. Olivia said nothing. She just went back to the kitchen and continued making dinner. After that night, I rarely saw her friends. But I knew that in her heart, Maya and the others were still the most important people in the world to her. 5 Getting married to Olivia felt like the natural next step. My decision was a rational one. She was financially independent, had strong morals, treated me with kindness, and was beautiful. And, of course, we loved each other. At my age, I’d long since abandoned the fairy tale of a flawless, all-consuming love. To me, marriage was more like a pragmatic partnership. As long as certain lines weren’t crossed, I could overlook a lot. As long as the drama wasn’t brought to my doorstep, I was happy to stay out of it. My priority has always been my own peace of mind. Right now, Maya’s drunken monologue was a direct assault on that peace. But what bothered me more was Olivia’s silence. A decent partner, at the very least, defends their spouse in front of others. Her quiet acquiescence was a form of permission, and it was colder and more cutting than any of Maya’s slurred insults. I’m not a confrontational person by nature. My instinct is to create distance, to simply remove myself from people I don’t connect with. Those who truly know me would never dare to be so brazen. This was, without a doubt, a first. I let out a soft laugh, the sound surprisingly sharp in the night air. “Maya.” I finally spoke, my voice devoid of emotion, holding only a cool, detached curiosity. “Listening to you, one would think you were the one in love with Leo, fighting for his lost honor.” She froze, her mouth hanging open, speechless. My gaze drifted slowly to Olivia, who remained silent. A smile without warmth touched my lips. “Olivia, it seems your male best friend is deeply devoted to you.” My tone was even, but every word was a needle. “Why don’t you make a choice? You can go with her, finish this melodrama of undying friendship…” I paused, my eyes snapping back to Maya, the last trace of feigned politeness gone, replaced by pure, glacial impatience. “Or, you can make her disappear from my sight. Immediately.” I turned to leave without looking at either of them again, my final words landing squarely in Olivia’s ear. “Think carefully. Decide if you want to keep being someone else’s best friend, or if you want to be my wife. And once you’ve decided, don’t ever let these messy people and their messy lives stain mine again.” With that, I walked away without a backward glance. I didn’t go home. I found a hotel near my office and checked in.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385963”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Everyone noticed I wasn’t chasing Mark anymore. Including Mark himself. After school, he blocked my path, his face a cold mask. “About standing you up the other day—I’m only explaining this once. Believe it or not, it’s up to you.” “Clara was cornered by some drunk. I went to help her.” “I was wrong not to call you. I forgot.” That day was his birthday. He was in a fight for Clara, while I was left stranded at the amusement park for the entire day. So, he thought I was just sulking about that. I gave a slight shake of my head. “It’s okay.” Then, under his shadowed, unreadable gaze, I quietly stepped around him and walked away. He didn’t know. He didn’t know that because he’d abandoned me yet again, the system had declared my mission a failure. In one month, I would be erased and sent back to my own world. And this body would be reclaimed by its original owner. 2 “Morgan, let’s go home.” The system’s voice sighed in my mind as an amusement park attendant reminded me for the third time that they were closing. “Mark’s not coming. He’s with Clara. He’s completely forgotten he was supposed to meet you here today.” My feet ached. I stomped them lightly on the pavement, picked up the cake box, and turned toward the exit. “Okay.” The hopeful anticipation I’d felt that morning had been worn down to nothing. All that was left was a hollow calm. Even when the system announced my failure. “In one month, you will be in a fatal car accident.” “This is the penalty for your failure.” “During the moment of impact, I will extract your consciousness and return you to your world. As for this body, its original owner will regain control.” After delivering the notice, the system vanished. I pulled out my phone to call a ride, only to see the battery icon flash red before the screen went black. I didn’t have any cash for a cab. Finally accepting my fate, I started the long walk home along the edge of the road. Failure had always been a possibility, I knew that. But in this moment, a profound exhaustion seeped into my bones, making every step feel impossibly heavy. 3 The route from the amusement park back to my house passed by our school. On a Saturday, the campus should have been deserted. But tonight, on a bench just outside the school gates, sat two figures I knew all too well. Clara was holding a small cupcake with a single matchstick stuck in it, flickering like a tiny, pathetic candle. “I’m so sorry, Mark…” she said, her voice soft. “I only just found out it was your birthday. I didn’t have time to get a proper cake.” “This was all I could find. I hope you don’t mind…” The boy across from her had a few fresh cuts on his cheekbone, a bandage wrapped around his forehead, half-hidden by his dark, messy hair. It gave him a kind of reckless, boyish charm. He didn’t seem to find the makeshift birthday cupcake ridiculous at all. He even took out his lighter and lit the match for her. “I don’t.” His voice, usually so cool and distant, held a gentle, coaxing note I’d never heard before. “I think it’s great.” I couldn’t help but remember the previous afternoon. I was in the school’s Home Ec room, presenting him with the birthday cake I’d perfected after countless attempts. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His eyes flickered to my hand, where a fresh blister from the oven was already forming. His tone was sharp with impatience. “Just looking at your hand is enough to make me lose my appetite.” Embarrassed, I tried to hide my hand in the sleeve of my uniform. His expression was weary. He walked over, grabbed my wrist, and started dragging me towards the pharmacy down the street. “What are you hiding?” he snapped. “You get a burn and you don’t even think to put something on it? Do you have a brain?” He sounded annoyed, but his touch was surprisingly gentle as he carefully applied the ointment. My courage returned. I had to ask again. “Mark… do you like the cake?” He stared at the blister on my hand, his brow furrowed. “It’s ugly as sin.” Back then, the system had tried to comfort me. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just mad you hurt yourself making it. He’s just bad at showing he cares, that’s all.” My thoughts snapped back to the present. I stood across the street, a silent observer, watching Mark soothe Clara, assuring her that her simple cupcake was more than enough. And I finally understood. Even for someone as guarded and difficult as Mark, when he truly liked someone, he could be gentle. He would pull in all his thorns. He would protect her pride and couldn’t bear to see her disappointed. I didn’t know what Mark felt for me. But it definitely wasn’t love. 4 I pulled my gaze away, ready to leave. But then Clara spotted me. “Summer? What are you doing here?” Mark turned, his eyes landing on the cake box in my hand. He froze for a split second, and I saw the flicker of realization in his eyes. He remembered. Clara saw the box too. “Oh, you must be looking for Mark, right?” she said, a little too brightly. “I heard you were supposed to celebrate his birthday at the park today. I’m so sorry. You got stood up because of me.” Her apology was a thin veil, a performance she’d perfected over time. It was as if she was used to Mark dropping everything and everyone for her, especially me. And I was just supposed to take it. Maybe throw a little tantrum for a day or two, then go right back to chasing him like a lost puppy. I shook my head, denying her first question. “I was just passing by.” Mark’s jaw was tight, his gaze fixed on me. Clara just smiled, clearly thinking my words were a pathetic attempt to save face. She gestured towards the box. “Well, since you brought the cake anyway, we can celebrate now. It’s not too late.” As she reached for the box, I stepped back, shaking my head again. “It’s gone bad. You can’t eat it.” I pressed my lips together, my voice quiet. “It’s… it’s getting late. I should go home.” “Bye.” Clara looked genuinely surprised. In the past, I would have used any excuse to stick to Mark’s side. Now, I was willingly giving them their space. I took a few steps, clutching the ruined cake, then remembered something. I turned back, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as I looked at Clara. “Excuse me, but… could I borrow twenty bucks? My phone’s dead and I can’t call a cab.” “I’ll take you.” The words shot out of Mark’s mouth the second I finished my sentence, fast and tight with some unreadable tension. I acted as if I hadn’t heard him. Clara stammered, “Uh… yeah, sure.” She fumbled in her purse and handed me a bill. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back at school on Monday.” I took the money and left. The entire time, I never once looked at Mark. 5 Maybe it was because I knew I was going home soon. That night, I dreamed of my life in the real world. I was in the college library during a break between classes, crying my eyes out over a novel. My roommate looked over, confused. “Isn’t that supposed to be a rom-com?” I sobbed, my words catching in my throat. “Not for him… not for Mark, the second male lead.” “His life is just so tragic.” “He’s been in love with the main character, Clara, since high school. But he came from nothing, so he was too proud and insecure to ever tell her. He becomes this huge business mogul by the end, but he never confesses. He just… watches over her from a distance.” “And the worst part? In high school, he was constantly bullied by the story’s vicious, spoiled rich girl, Summer.” My roommate handed me a tissue. “Your name is Morgan, and her name is Summer. Kinda close.” I slammed my hand on the table. “And I am deeply ashamed of that fact.” That very night, I woke up inside the book, in the body of the character I despised most. The system’s directive was simple: Win over Mark. That year, I was the person he hated most in the world. Mission difficulty: SSS. The system scanned my ecstatic expression. “The difficulty is off the charts, and you’re this happy?” “Because I can change his story! I can fix his miserable youth!” I bounced on my toes, my bangs flying. “I’m going to give him all the best things in the world. I won’t let him suffer for one more second.” The system had no faith in my mission. It said it would just wait for the clock to run out and send me back. I spent two years trying to melt Mark’s icy exterior. Eventually, his affection meter climbed so high that even the system thought victory was within reach. But in the end, I still failed. And really, I had no right to blame him. He was always in love with Clara. It was only natural that he would do anything for her, that he would put her first, always. It’s a simple truth I only managed to grasp now that I was no longer in love with him myself. 6 After spending the entire previous day out in the wind, it was no surprise when I woke up with a cold. I’d just taken some medicine when my phone rang. It was one of Mark’s friends. “Hey, Summer. Mark’s doing a do-over for his birthday today. At the amusement park, the one you guys were supposed to go to. You coming?” Mark never cared about things like birthdays. I knew what this was—an attempt to make up for what happened. My voice was thick with congestion when I spoke. “You guys have fun. I’m heading to the library today.” I heard the guy’s voice get farther from the receiver. “Yo, Mark, Summer says she’s not coming.” A few seconds passed. Then, I heard a short, sharp laugh, laced with mockery. “Her loss.” His reaction wasn’t a surprise. Mark had never been patient with me. This half-assed birthday party was the most he was willing to bend. I couldn’t stop a few coughs from escaping. The guy on the phone noticed. “Whoa, Summer, you sick? Okay, okay, never mind then. You just rest up.” Right before he hung up, I heard him ask someone else, “Hey, where’d Mark go?” Another voice replied, “Looked like he was heading to the pharmacy.” “Pharmacy? Why? Didn’t he just get his cuts looked at?” “Beats me.” 7 I went to the library with Leo. Leo. The original Summer’s childhood best friend. He was also the only person in this world who knew I wasn’t who I seemed. Not long after I arrived, he saw right through my act. He’d cornered me, studying my face with a smirk. “Don’t even try to lie. You can’t fool me. No one knows Summer better than I do.” After I confessed everything about the mission, he was only surprised for a moment before accepting it. Maybe it was because I was wearing his best friend’s face. For the past two years, he’d been incredibly good to me. He was one of my most important friends in this world. On the way to the library, I told him about my failed mission. “So you’re saying you’re leaving? In a month?” “Yep. The real Summer is coming back. You’ll be reunited with your childhood sweetheart.” The canvas messenger bag slung over Leo’s shoulder swayed with his steps, tapping rhythmically against his back. He just smiled, not responding, his eyes holding a flat, unreadable emotion. 8 We didn’t leave until the library was closing. Leo’s house was right next to mine. I stopped at his gate, about to say goodbye. But he was staring straight ahead, his gaze fixed on my front door. I followed his line of sight. And met Mark’s dark, intense stare. He was wearing a black windbreaker that made his pale face seem even colder. The cuts on his cheekbone and jaw added a hint of untamed aggression to his look. In his hand was a small plastic bag from a pharmacy. I snapped back to the present and turned to Leo. “Well, you’re home. I’ll see you later. Bye.” He understood I didn’t want him involved. He didn’t ask any questions, just nodded. “Call me if you need anything.” The click of Leo’s front door closing echoed in the quiet street. Mark’s gaze slowly tracked me as I walked toward him, my fingers clutching the strap of my book bag. “Did you need something?” He ignored my question. “Aren’t you sick?” he countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You seemed perfectly fine, laughing it up with him.” As if on cue, a tickle in my throat forced a pair of coughs out of me. The mockery in his eyes faded slightly. I sniffled. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going inside.” He shifted his body, blocking my way. A chill radiated off him, making my shoulders tremble. I wondered how long he’d been standing out here in the cold for his clothes to feel like ice. “Why are you running all over town with him when you’re sick?” He shoved the pharmacy bag into my arms, his face a grim mask. “And about the other day. Standing you up.” “I’m only saying this once, so you can believe it or not.” He wasn’t one for apologies, so his explanation was clipped and concise. “Clara was getting harassed by a drunk. I went to help her. But I forgot to call and let you know, and I made you wait. That was my fault.” I couldn’t remember Mark ever bothering to explain himself to anyone. I was surprised he’d come looking for me, but that was it. No other emotion stirred. I held the bag of medicine back out to him, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. “Thank you, but I can’t take this. I can buy my own medicine.” “As for the other day, I accept your apology.” “Is there anything else? I really need to go home.” Mark’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes locked on mine as if silently demanding, What the hell is wrong with you? After a moment of silence, I took it as my cue to leave. I murmured a quiet goodbye and slipped past him into the house. Once I was back in my room, I peeked through the window. He was still standing there, motionless. Then, as if a bitter realization had finally dawned on him, he let out a cold, humorless scoff. He tossed the bag of medicine into the nearby trash can and walked away without a backward glance. I guess he finally got the message. This wasn’t me sulking. This was me giving up. For good. 9 Maybe because I’d been the most persistent and the most public of all his admirers, no one seemed to notice when I suddenly, quietly, gave up on him. During gym class, the guys were playing basketball. Both Mark and Leo got injured in the same play. The second I heard, I rushed to the nurse’s office. Mark wasn’t just a brutal fighter; he was a skilled one. He almost never lost. In the last two years, his reputation had grown to the point where it kept the local troublemakers at bay. It also earned him a legion of followers who admired his strength. In the nurse’s office, a crowd of guys swarmed Mark. Leo, on the other hand, was practically alone, with only the gym captain offering a few half-hearted words of concern. One of Mark’s friends saw me and grinned. “Whoa, whoa, Summer. Mark’s fine, you don’t have to look so panicked. Don’t you have any faith in your crush?” Mark’s expression was tense. He didn’t even look up. I couldn’t believe that even his closest friends hadn’t noticed that I’d stopped hovering around him. I pretended not to hear them and walked past the group, straight to Leo. “Is it bad? Should I get a pass for you to go to the hospital?” After all, Leo had taken care of me plenty of times when I was sick. The silence in the room wasn’t peaceful. It was thick with a tense, strained energy that suffocated all other sound. Leo glanced dismissively at Mark’s back. “It’s nothing. Just hurts a bit.” He offered a small smile, looking at me helplessly. “But I don’t think I can get back to class on my own. Could you help me out, Summer?” I nodded. Leo slung his arm over my shoulders, and I helped him limp out of the room. 10 After that, it seemed like everyone finally got the hint. The jokes about me and Mark stopped. A few days later, the system reappeared without warning, bringing a new mission. “I pulled some strings to get this for you,” it said. “If you succeed, the car accident you’re scheduled to have will be completely painless.” The system continued, “Your senior Graduation Showcase is next week, right?” To avoid interfering with final exams, our school held the event early in the second semester. “I hear each homeroom is only allowed to submit one act. Morgan, all you have to do is secure that performance slot for your class. That’s it. Mission complete.” The next day, I saw the sign-up sheet. Besides me, three other people had put their names down. Clara was doing a piano performance. The arts committee representative was singing a solo. And another guy was planning to do a stand-up comedy routine. Like the arts rep, I signed up for a solo performance. It was the only real talent I had. To be fair, the class president announced that the four of us had to record our full performances. We would play them for the entire class during homeroom, and they would vote for who would represent them at the showcase. 11 The vote ended in a stalemate. Clara and I were tied for first place. The class president wrung his hands. “Is there anyone who hasn’t voted yet?” Someone piped up, “Mark hasn’t. He’s absent today.” So, the president decided we’d hold a re-vote in three days between just me and Clara. Leo was fuming. “The class is split right down the middle between you two. The only person left to vote is Mark. And do we even need to guess who he’s going to pick? It’s obviously Clara.” We were sitting by the large glass window of a boba tea shop. Outside, cars sped through the intersection, their force a palpable blur. The thought of my impending “accident” sent a shiver down my spine. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t scared. I clutched the warm cup in my hands. “I want to try.” “Try what?” “To convince Mark to vote for me.” 12 Back when I was in love with Mark, trying to please him was second nature. Now, just initiating a conversation felt awkward and strange. The day before the final vote, as soon as the bell rang, I gathered my courage and walked to his desk. “Uh… do you have a minute?” He was leaning back in his chair. He slowly lifted his gaze to mine. “You need something?” I nodded twice. Just then, a light, cheerful set of footsteps approached. “Mark!” It was Clara. “Will you come with me to feed the stray cats after school tonight?” A wave of disappointment washed over me. I lowered my head, ready to walk away. “Can’t tonight,” Mark said, his voice flat. Clara seemed genuinely taken aback by his refusal. It was a rare sight. She quickly recovered, her lips curving into a smile. “Oh, okay then… I’ll just go by myself.” Soon, the classroom emptied out. Mark stared ahead, not looking at me. “Spit it out. What is it?” I quickly pulled a tube of ointment from my bag. “I saw the cuts on your face haven’t healed yet, so I bought this…” It was a clumsy attempt at bribery. My motive was so transparent that I squeezed my eyes shut after I said it, bracing for his mockery. But his expression didn’t change. He took the tube, turning it over in his hands. An idea struck me. “I could… I could put it on for you?” His response was to hand the ointment back to me. I pulled a chair over and sat beside him. Dabbing a cotton swab with the cream, I carefully applied it to his cuts. The only sound in the classroom was our quiet exchange. “Mark, turn your head a little.” “Is this a cut here, too?” “Yeah.” “This one hasn’t scabbed over yet. Is it going to sting?” “No.” After I finished, I tried to figure out how to bring up the vote. He cut right to the chase. “Just say it. What do you want from me?” Caught, my face flushed with heat. I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “The vote tomorrow… can you vote for me? Getting that spot is really, really important to me.” I was terrible at this. “Are you… hungry?” I stammered. “I can, uh, I can buy you dinner.” As I rambled on about buying him a new computer or a gaming console, he cut me off. “Summer.” He stared at me, and after a long moment, his deep voice resonated beside my ear. “You want my vote? Answer one question.” “What is it?” “Do you like Leo?” I shook my head. “We’ve only ever been friends. Does that have anything to do with your vote?” He didn’t answer, but the chill in his eyes seemed to thaw. He stood up, looking like he was ready to leave. I bit my lip. “So… will you vote for me tomorrow?” Mark stretched his neck, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and strolled out of the classroom. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a low drawl. 13 Before homeroom, my deskmate looked at me, bewildered. “Why are you so happy? You’re practically buzzing.” I just smiled, not saying a word. Because I’m going home, pain-free. The bell rang. The class president walked to the front to count the votes. “Oh, right,” he said. “Before I start, Mark, you voted this time, right?” I turned to look at him, my eyes crinkling with a smile I couldn’t contain. Our gazes met for a split second before he abruptly looked away. “I voted.” A terrible feeling started to bloom in my chest. The president counted the ballots, one by one. Every second stretched into an eternity of torment. “Okay, that’s all of them. The votes are in.” “With one more vote, Clara wins.” A radiant smile spread across the girl’s face. “Thank you all so much for your support.” The president nodded. “I’ll go submit your act after class.” My fingers went slack. The pen I was holding clattered to the floor, the sharp sound drawing a few glances. In the quiet room, a sudden snort of laughter broke the silence. “Are you kidding me? Look at her face. What is she so shocked about?” “It was always going to be Clara. It was a sure thing.” “I know, right? She’s been chasing him for two years. Does she seriously still think she means more to Mark than Clara does?” “It’s actually pathetic. I could die laughing.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385979”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My “dearest” brother and my fiancé said I bullied their precious savior. To punish me for my “spoiled arrogance,” my fiancé called me a shameless slut on our wedding night, and my brother planned to leak the “news” to every media outlet. I completely snapped. If I was going down, I was taking them all with me. I set the whole place on fire. But somehow, I got a second chance. I woke up, alive. Lily Greene was holding a pair of scissors to her own vixen face, smiling cruelly at me. “If they see my face scarred, Sera, how do you think they’ll torture you?” I snatched the scissors from her hand, kicked her to the floor, and pressed her down with my heel. Then, I carved a dozen, deep, bloody gashes into her perfect skin. “Oh, honey,” I cooed, “a tiny scratch isn’t enough to go crying to them. This… this is how you make a statement. So much better, don’t you think? Just beautiful.” 1 I died on the night that was supposed to be the happiest of my life. At our wedding reception, my new husband, Julian Chenworth, barely glanced at me. He just took the microphone and addressed our guests. “This,” he announced, “is a slut who’s been cheating on me. Just last night, she was with four different men and didn’t come home. I can’t possibly marry such a depraved, disgusting woman.” The ballroom exploded. “She always looked so innocent, but I guess she’s a total freak…” “Well, she is the Vance heiress… maybe that’s what they’re into…” “How did the Vance family produce scum like you?” That last voice was my brother, Marcus. “I’m alerting the press. As of today, Seraphina Vance is disowned!” When I saw Lily Greene peek out from behind him, a triumphant smirk on her face, I understood everything. While the doors were still locked, I cut the power, plunging the room into darkness. Then I grabbed a lit candelabra and threw it at the propane tanks for the catering truck parked just outside the terrace. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Four years earlier. Lily was in my villa, pressing a pair of scissors to her own cheek, creating a tiny red mark. She smiled. “Sera, what do you think Marcus will say when he sees my face is hurt? He’ll probably make you kneel and beg for my forgiveness, won’t he?” The familiar scene hit me like a truck. I was reborn. When I didn’t react, Lily pushed further. “But… if you give me that new diamond necklace Marcus bought at the auction, maybe I’ll be merciful and let you kneel for a little less time.” All the hatred from my past life surged through me. I snatched the scissors from her hand and kicked her legs out from under her. I pinned her to the expensive rug with my stiletto. Amidst her shrieks and cries, I dragged the sharp blades across her face, over and over, leaving a dozen crisscrossing, bloody gashes. “Oh, honey,” I laughed, tossing the bloody scissors aside. “A tiny scratch? That’s not good enough to go crying to them. You need to be bleeding. See? So much better.” Lily scrambled away like a cornered animal, screaming, “Get a doctor! Someone, call a doctor! NOW!” I leaned against the doorframe, feigning boredom. “Call a doctor? Why? This bloody mess is perfect for playing the victim for Marcus, isn’t it?” This was my villa. From the butler to the security, every single person here worked for me. I walked out the front door. “Keep an eye on her,” I told my security team. “Don’t let so much as a fly leave this house.” Lily threw herself against the reinforced glass, pounding and screaming. “You can’t do this to me! Marcus and Julian will destroy you!” “You love this house so much, Lily?” I called back. “Then you can spend the rest of your life here!” I got in my car and drove off. In my past life, I was Seraphina Vance, the perfect heiress: generous, dignified, and tolerant. That included being tolerant of Lily Greene, the “savior” my brother Marcus brought home. But she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a master manipulator who framed me time and time again. She’d cry to Marcus that I, the spoiled heiress, couldn’t stand a “poor girl” like her. No matter how I tried to explain, Marcus never believed me. Even my childhood fiancé, Julian, always took her side. I drove to our family’s main estate. When I pulled up, I saw Julian in the garden, nervously fiddling with his collar, clearly waiting for someone. He looked shocked when he saw me. “Sera? What are you doing here?” I smirked. “Not your precious Lily, I’m afraid. Are you disappointed?” Julian’s eyes darted away. “She’s Marcus’s savior, Seraphina. Are you misunderstanding something?” He’d used that exact line on me a thousand times in our last life, every time I suspected they were too close. He always blamed it on me being “jealous.” I only found out right before I died that Lily hadn’t just saved Marcus. She’d saved Julian, too. What a coincidence. She just happened to be in the right place at the right time to save the heirs to the two biggest fortunes in the city. How convenient for her. Of course, Julian was just using me, the Vance heiress, to stage a coup and oust his older brother at his own family’s company. Once he was the sole heir, he had no more use for me and turned on me at the wedding. I smiled, took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of my lungs. “SECURITY! HELP! THERE’S AN INTRUDER ON THE ESTATE!” The nearby security team and the head butler were on him in an instant, pinning him to the ground. 2 “Wait! It’s all a misunderstanding!” Julian sputtered, his face pressed into the manicured lawn. “I’m Marcus’s friend! Sera invited me!” I thought about him pouring champagne on my wedding dress while calling me a whore. I walked over calmly. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! I hit him three times, hard. He staggered, clutching his face. A flicker of darkness crossed his eyes, but he quickly replaced it with a placating smile. “Sera, darling, are you upset about something? You can take it all out on me.” “But,” he added, his voice dropping, “I am your fiancé. You shouldn’t embarrass me in front of the staff.” “Oh, right,” I said, nodding as if I’d just realized. “In that case, our engagement is off.” “Wh… what?” He looked genuinely stunned, clutching his chest. “But… we’re childhood sweethearts! Our families arranged this… You can’t just… cancel it.” “Childhood sweethearts? Don’t flatter yourself,” I said coldly. I nodded to the guards. “This man is a trespasser. Teach him a lesson, then throw him out.” I stayed and watched. Only when Julian was curled on the ground, beaten and gasping for air, did I finally turn and walk away. Getting even felt good. That evening, I was summoned to Marcus’s penthouse. Lily, her face wrapped in bandages, was curled up in his arms, weeping. Julian, his suit now rumpled, was standing stiffly to the side. They had clearly been waiting for me. I ignored them both and smiled brightly at my brother. “Marcus, darling! Did you call me here to give me my allowance?” Marcus’s face was like ice. “Kneel.” “Why the hell should I?” The smile vanished. “You ordered your men to beat the heir to the Chenworth family. You viciously mutilated my savior, nearly disfiguring her for life. You tell me if you should kneel!” His voice boomed, trying to intimidate me. I just raised my voice louder than his. “I am Seraphina Vance! Who the hell are they? Their status doesn’t compare to mine. If I want to bully them, I bully them. Do I need a reason?” My blatant arrogance left him speechless for a moment. Then, his face contorted in rage. “You are an embarrassment! You have no class, no upbringing!” he roared. “You scarred Lily’s face and you had Julian beaten. For that, you’ll take thirty slaps to the face. Now! Do it!” Two of his personal bodyguards started to move toward me. From Marcus’s arms, Lily looked at me with pure, venomous triumph. “Sera,” Julian pleaded, “you made a mistake, and you need to face the consequences. Just accept the punishment.” I wasn’t about to let them touch me. I pulled a sharp, pearl-handled letter opener from my boot. “Anyone who comes near me,” I hissed, “gets this in their throat.” I turned my disgusted gaze back to Marcus. “Honestly, if you love Lily so much, why don’t you just marry her? You’re already acting like a married couple without the ring, hiding her in your penthouse. You’re the one with no shame here, brother.” Lily immediately burst from his arms, tears streaming. “Miss Vance! You can hate me, I can take it… but Marcus is your brother! How can you slander him like that?” Julian chimed in, pretending to defend me but twisting the knife. “Sera, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but this… this behavior is really disappointing me…” “This is the Vance family home,” I snapped. “Who gave you permission to speak?” “Seraphina!” Marcus shot to his feet, his eyes boring into me. “Have you no decency at all!” 3 I saw the flash of pure disgust in his eyes and had to laugh. “As they say, ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’ Isn’t my ‘upbringing’ your responsibility?” In my past life, he was always cold. I thought that was just his personality. I thought if I was just perfect, just proper, he would finally be proud of me. Then I saw how he doted on Lily, and I realized the truth. He wasn’t a “stern older brother.” He was just an asshole. The stalemate finally broke when my mother arrived. Lily immediately started in, “Mrs. Vance…” My mother silenced her with a single, icy glare. “It’s late,” she said to Julian and Lily. “You should both leave.” Once they were gone, it was just the three of us. My mother looked at me and Marcus with profound disappointment. “Your father’s 60th birthday gala is coming up. Do not make this family look bad.” Ah, yes. Her precious “image.” I was just like her in my past life. But this life, I didn’t give a damn about appearances. So I doubled down. I used my status as the Vance heiress to make Lily’s life a living hell. Throwing her in the estate’s lake at midnight became a regular occurrence. I had cockroaches put in her food. Finally, during a public class we both attended, I ripped the medical mask off her face. “Everyone, look!” I shouted. “It’s the freak!” Tears streamed down her scarred face, her eyes filled with a hatred that finally matched my own. She was no longer the calm, collected victim. She dropped to her knees. “Miss Vance! Please, I’m begging you, spare me!” “In your dreams!” I slapped her hard across the face, aggravating the healing wounds. I expected her to run to Marcus again, but for days, there was nothing. Then I found out why. They were waiting. I was lounging in my villa when Marcus showed up. “What are you getting Father for his birthday?” he asked. In my past life, I spent half a month hand-embroidering a massive tapestry: “Golden Prosperity.” I wanted to wish my father success. But Marcus took it from me. He said he was the heir, so his success was the family’s success. It was only right that he give it. Then he turned around and gave it to Lily. At the gala, Lily presented the tapestry as her own. My father was so impressed he gave her a manager-level position at Vance Consolidated. I, having had my gift stolen, presented a simple painting. It was the beginning of the end for me and my father. The memory of my own stupidity made me sick. “I don’t have a gift,” I told Marcus flatly. “I am the gift.” He was speechless, but he regrouped. He knew I was skilled at embroidery. “You know, I’ve been so stressed with the company, I can barely sleep. Maybe… maybe you could embroider a ‘Golden Prosperity’ tapestry for me?” “Sounds like a you problem.” His face darkened. “Fine. But you’ll regret this.” On the day of the gala, just as the sun was setting, I found out what he meant. As I was heading to the event, Julian blocked my car. My entire security detail had been mysteriously reassigned. My heart hammered. I tried to run, but he grabbed me. He gripped my wrist, his voice sickeningly gentle. “Don’t blame me, Sera. You’re the Vance heiress. You have everything. Lily has nothing. Just let her have this.” Then I heard a sickening SNAP! The pain was so intense I almost blacked out. My wrist was broken. As I gasped, he reached into my bag and pulled out the finished “Golden Prosperity” tapestry, which I’d been hiding. He handed it to Lily, who had just walked up. I had hidden it, only working on it in the dead of night. They still found out. Lily’s eyes were full of malice. “So what if you’re the heiress? Your fiancé doesn’t love you. Your brother doesn’t protect you. You can be arrogant now, but what happens when Marcus is in charge?” She leaned in close. “I’ll be Mrs. Vance. And you? You’ll be nothing but dirt under my shoe.” 4 I stared at the two of them, my vision blurring with pain and rage. “Bitch!” I swung my good left hand and slapped her across the face. SLAP! Her mask fell off. Her scars were already mostly healed. Marcus must have spent a fortune on her recovery. She clutched her cheek, laughing at my “powerless” rage. “You just stay here and cry. I wonder what Chairman Vance will think when his eldest daughter doesn’t even show up to his own birthday party?” She sauntered off, tapestry in hand, ready to claim her manager job and start her corporate takeover. I tried to follow, but Julian blocked me. He was protecting her. I remembered what he’d told me in my last life, when I complained about this very moment: “Lily is Marcus’s savior. You’re his sister. You should be grateful to her, too. If you expose this, you’ll humiliate Lily and your brother. And you know… I really don’t like girls who hold grudges.” This time, I just screamed the truth in his face. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you! This bitch didn’t just save Marcus, she saved you, too! You’re both in on it, working together to destroy me! Do you think Father won’t find out?” Lily’s little speech had given me an idea. Marcus… the heir… Even with her mask of innocence torn away, Julian still defended her. He knew exactly what she was. “Yes, she saved my life,” he admitted, trying to look sincere. “So please, just… let this go. Just this once. After this, I promise, I’ll marry you in the most lavish wedding anyone has ever seen.” He grabbed my broken wrist, his voice a gentle caress. “Go to the hospital and get this set. Otherwise, it’ll be permanent.” He stroked my throbbing hand. “And as for Mr. Vance… you wouldn’t want your own brother to take the fall for this, would you?” His words were poison, his touch was agony. This was a setup. My “good” brother had arranged all of it. I started to laugh, a wild, painful sound. “Am I supposed to be grateful? Am I in her debt? You two owe her, so I have to pay?” “And who the hell wants to marry you?” I spat. “I’m the Vance heiress. Do you think you’re my only option? I wouldn’t marry a piece of trash like you if you were the last man on earth!” Hatred cleared my mind. “You’re all disgusting! Go to hell!” With my good hand, I yanked the long, sharp hairpin from my purse and stabbed it directly into Julian’s eye. He let out a bloodcurdling howl, clutching his face as he staggered backward. He stared at me with his one good eye, which was wide with shock and a new, deep-seated hatred. “If you don’t get to a hospital, you’re going to be blind,” I said, my voice suddenly calm. Blood streamed between his fingers. “Seraphina,” he hissed, “you vicious, heartless bitch!” “Am I? And you, blocking me from my father’s party? What were the consequences for me?” I asked. “But you’re right, you should go. If you stay here, you’ll definitely lose that eye.” “Then we’ll go to the hospital together,” he snarled, trying to grab me. I raised the bloody hairpin again, aiming for his other eye. He flinched. “Like you said,” I taunted, “my hand is broken, but I’m still the Vance heiress. But you? A blind son-in-law? Who’s going to want you now? Especially one who’s on my bad side.” He hesitated. That’s all I needed. I bolted, running full-speed toward the gala. He was blind in one eye, and I had a broken hand. He stumbled and fell several times trying to catch me. I didn’t look back. The gala was being held at our corporate headquarters. It was a massive event. As I burst through the doors, I saw her. Lily was on stage, presenting the tapestry. My father was beaming, clearly loving the “hand-crafted” gift. “FATHER! THAT’S MY GIFT!” I shouted, stalking down the aisle. I shoved Lily so hard she fell off the stage. The entire hall went silent. I pointed a trembling, unbroken finger at my brother. “He did this! My own brother… stole from his sister for his mistress!” “That ‘Golden Prosperity’ tapestry,” I cried, “it took me half a month to embroider! The calluses on my fingers are proof! I can do it again, right here, right now! Can she? No! She’s a thief, and he’s her accomplice!” The silence was deafening. My father’s face was unreadable. “Seraphina,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “What happened to you? Your clothes… your…” I held up my grotesquely swollen, broken wrist. “Ask him!” I shouted, pointing to Julian’s father, Mr. Chenworth, who was sitting at the head table. “It was his son! Julian! He blocked my path, tried to stop me from coming! And when I fought back, he broke my wrist to steal my gift for that… that whore!” My hand was trembling so violently, it was obvious I wasn’t faking. “What!” Mr. Chenworth shot to his feet, his face pale. “He… he broke…?” He staggered, grabbing the table. “That monster! That ungrateful monster! Mr. Vance… I am so, so sorry… Whatever the Vances want… any punishment… it’s yours to name!” My mother, sitting beside my father, looked furious. I had embarrassed the family. “A broken wrist can be fixed,” she said smoothly, trying to control the damage. “My daughter is… forgiving. Mr. Chenworth, there’s no need for such dramatics.” “Oh, no need to apologize,” I said brightly, cutting her off. “We’re even. I already blinded him in one eye.” Mr. Chenworth grabbed his chest and collapsed into his chair. “And,” I continued, “now that your son has permanently injured me, and I have permanently blinded him, we’re basically mortal enemies. This whole engagement is a joke. I’d like to end it. Tonight.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385995”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The blue crabs from home arrived on a Tuesday, a dozen of the heaviest, fattest ones my mom could find, shipped overnight from Maryland. A taste of home, just for me. That evening, I steamed them perfectly, the scent of Old Bay seasoning filling the kitchen, and arranged them on our largest platter. With the five of us, it was a perfect two apiece. But by the time I brought the last of the side dishes to the dining room, the platter was already ravaged. Empty. My in-laws and my son, Leo, were happily working on their second crab each. And Ethan, my husband—a man who claims to have a crippling aversion to messes—was patiently, meticulously picking crabmeat for Aubrey, his childhood sweetheart who had just moved back from London. He saw me and, without missing a beat, issued a familiar command. “Aubrey’s crazy about these crabs, Sophie. Tell your mom to send more.” He gestured with his chin towards the kitchen. “And go make some ginger tea. Too much crab isn’t good for you, and Aubrey’s always been delicate.” I looked at the mountain of discarded shells next to Aubrey’s plate—four of them, a bright orange graveyard—and a bitter smile touched my lips. I untied my apron. “Ethan, I want a divorce.” 1 The words dropped into the cheerful chatter like a stone, sinking all the sound to the bottom of the room. Ethan didn’t even look up. He was using a small fork to pry the last, sweet morsels of backfin meat from a shell, placing them carefully onto Aubrey’s plate. Only when he was finished did he bother to glance at me, his eyes cool and distant. “What is it this time? Did I not text you back fast enough? Wear a shirt you don’t like?” The casual, practiced nature of his dismissal, laced with a faint, almost imperceptible note of mockery, sent a sharp pang through my chest. It was true, I had threatened divorce over small things before. But he never understood that it wasn’t about the small things; it was about the crushing weight of his indifference that each small thing revealed. It was the same now. He knew I was upset, but he couldn’t be bothered to understand why. And I was just so tired. “I’m serious, Ethan.” At this, Aubrey set down her fork, her eyes welling up instantly. “Sophie,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “is this because he was helping me with my crab? I’m so sorry, it’s just… it’s a habit. I always forgot how, and Ethan was always there to do the tricky parts for me.” She was apologizing, but the glint of triumph in her eyes was unmistakable. Ethan looked at me as if I were a toddler throwing a tantrum. “This is really what it’s about?” he asked, incredulous. “Sophie, she’s not like you. She’s never had to do this kind of stuff. She doesn’t know how.” He didn’t even hear the thick, syrupy fondness dripping from his own words. He’d forgotten all the times I’d playfully asked him to peel a shrimp for me, only to be met with a look of disgust. “I have a thing about messes, you know that. You can do it yourself.” I glanced down at my own hands, the nails short and practical, the skin rough from years of housework. Then I looked at Aubrey’s—perfectly manicured, pale, and delicate. Before I married Ethan, my hands had looked like that, too. The bitterness rose in my throat like bile. I bit my lip, forcing my voice to remain steady. “It’s your choice to take care of her, Ethan. But those crabs… my mother sent those for me.” He let out a short, dismissive laugh. “Over a few crabs? You don’t even like them that much. Aubrey loves them, so I gave them to her. What’s the problem?” I’ve adored crabs since I was a child. My parents bought a share in a local fishery just to make sure I always had the best. I had told Ethan this story countless times. I had just shared my excitement with him over text two days ago. “Honey, Mom says the crabs are perfect this year, she’s sending the biggest ones for us. You know they’re my absolute favorite.” “Two for each of us.” “I’ll make sure to have ginger tea ready. They’re too ‘cold’ for Mom and Dad and Leo, you know how they get.” His only reply at the time was “Ok.” I had assumed he was busy with work. Now I realize he probably never even read the messages. He couldn’t remember my favorite food in the world, but he remembered, without prompting, that Aubrey was “delicate.” Aubrey, ever the actress, pushed her plate forward with a show of magnanimity. “Sophie, if you want them this badly, you can have mine. It’s okay. I don’t want you to make things hard for Ethan.” My six-year-old son, Leo, his hands and face glistening with butter and crabmeat, pouted. “Mommy, you can’t have Auntie Aubrey’s crabs. Daddy peeled those special for her.” My mother-in-law’s face hardened. “Aubrey is a guest. It’s only right that she gets them. If you’re that desperate, go to the market and buy some tomorrow. It’s hardly something to threaten a divorce over. Who do you think you’re scaring?” I looked around the table at their faces, each one a mask of righteous indignation, and felt my heart sink into a cold, dark place. This time, I didn’t back down. My eyes burned, but I repeated my point. “My mother sent them. For me.” Ethan rubbed his temples, a rare flicker of compromise in his expression. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop making a scene. If you want crabs, I’ll buy you more another day. But Aubrey is here. Don’t ruin the evening.” He looked at me, his voice softening into the tone one uses to placate a child. “Go make the ginger tea for Aubrey. And this talk about divorce… I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear it.” He thought this was just another tantrum, a childish fight over a piece of food. No one understood. That empty platter wasn’t the problem. It was the final straw. My voice came out quiet, possessed by a calm that felt foreign even to me. “I’m not making a scene, Ethan. And this stopped being about a few crabs a long time ago.” “Tomorrow morning, I’m calling a lawyer.” Without another glance at any of them, I turned and walked to our bedroom. 2 I lay on the bed, the door closed, and listened to the muffled sounds of their conversation from the living room. Aubrey’s fragile, weeping voice drifted through the wood. “Ethan, Sophie doesn’t want me here. I should go.” Then Ethan’s, patient and soothing. “Aubrey, sit down. This has nothing to do with you.” And then, when he spoke of me, his voice was sharp with irritation. “She just gets these ideas in her head. It’s ridiculous. You just got back to the country, you don’t have any friends here yet. I’m just looking out for you, like any old friend would.” “Old friend?” I whispered the words to the ceiling. A reel of images flickered through my mind. The framed photo of him and Aubrey on his bookshelf, polished and dust-free, while he couldn’t remember where we kept our own wedding album. The time Aubrey texted a list of American foods she missed, and he had me cook every single one. Our anniversary dinner, when he’d left me stranded in a car on the side of the highway because Aubrey called him, crying about something trivial. Aubrey was a splinter, lodged deep in the heart of our marriage. And Ethan was the one who kept pushing it deeper. Now, here I was, bleeding out from a thousand tiny wounds, and all he could say was, “We’re just old friends.” Leo’s petulant voice piped up from the living room. “Yeah, Mommy is so mean. She’s not nice and gentle like Auntie Aubrey. I wish Auntie Aubrey could be my mommy.” Then came my father-in-law’s angry growl, clear as day. “Just leave her be! She’s addicted to the drama. Throwing a fit like this over a few damn crabs. It’s embarrassing.” I stared at the ceiling, a vast and desolate emptiness spreading through my chest. After I married Ethan, I gave up my career. I devoted myself to this family, to caring for his parents, to raising our son. And in the end, not a single one of them would speak a word in my defense. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text from my mom. “Sweetie, did the crabs get there okay? How were they? I made sure to pick out the biggest, fattest ones for you. I know you love them.” My eyes instantly flooded with tears. How could I possibly answer her? How could I tell her that I hadn’t tasted a single bite of the gift she’d so lovingly sent? That more than half of them had ended up in the stomach of my husband’s “old friend”? My fingers trembled as I typed out a reply. “They were delicious, Mom. The best yet. Thank you.” I closed the message thread and opened a browser. I booked the first flight back to Maryland for the next morning. Outside, the front door opened and closed. Ethan was taking Aubrey home. A long time passed before he returned. I heard his footsteps go down the hall, not to our bedroom, but to the guest room. He was giving me the silent treatment, waiting for me to come to my senses and crawl back to him with an apology. It was how these things always ended. But then my phone lit up again. A text from an unknown number. It was Aubrey. “Thanks for taking care of Ethan for me these last seven years.” I ignored it. A moment later, another message came through. It was a picture of her and Ethan, their arms wrapped around each other. Then another, of them holding hands. And a third, a soft-focus kiss, his eyes closed. The photos were time-stamped. Most were from the last few weeks, since she’d been back. “Don’t you get it, Sophie? He’s always loved me. If I hadn’t gone to London, you would have never even been in the picture.” “Do yourself a favor and get out before he has to kick you out. That would be so humiliating for you.” I didn’t reply to her taunts. I just calmly saved every single photo. If this was going to court, they would be Exhibit A. 3 The next morning, I walked out of the bedroom into a disaster zone. The dining table was still littered with the dirty dishes and crab shell debris from the night before. My father-in-law, dressed in his workout clothes, saw me and scowled. “What are you standing there for? Clean this place up. All you do is cause trouble, never anything useful. You expect us to live in this filth?” I didn’t move. He was about to launch into another tirade when Ethan emerged from the guest room. He looked frantic, pulling on a jacket as he rushed toward the door. I stepped in front of him. “You said we’d see the lawyers today.” He brushed my arm away, his brow furrowed with annoyance. “I don’t have time for that today.” “It won’t take long,” I insisted. He suddenly exploded, his voice a raw shout. “Enough! Sophie, when are you going to stop this? Aubrey was so distraught over what you did last night that she fell down the stairs this morning. She broke her leg. And you still have the nerve to pull this stunt?” His words were a signal. His parents immediately crowded around him, their faces etched with concern. “Oh my god, is it serious?” “Is she at the hospital? She’s all alone here, no family. We should go see her.” Even Leo, now awake, started clamoring to go with them. Ethan shot me one last venomous glare before ushering the three of them out the door, leaving me alone in the silent, cavernous living room. I couldn’t help but remember the time I was hit by a car in the grocery store parking lot. Terrified, I had called Ethan ten times in a row, each call going straight to voicemail. When he finally picked up, his voice was a blade of impatience. “Sophie, I’m not a doctor. If you’re hurt, go to the hospital. Calling me isn’t going to do anything.” Not wanting to worry his parents or Leo, I had dragged myself to the emergency room alone, my leg throbbing with pain. I checked myself out after only one night, anxious to get home. But when I walked through the door, there was no concern, only cold, hard blame. “Are you blind? How do you even manage to get hit by a car?” “So now you’re injured? Who’s going to do the housework? Who’s going to take Leo to school?” I shook the memory away and started to pack. I had just zipped my suitcase when my phone rang. It was Ethan. I answered, and his voice came through the line, dripping with entitlement. “Sophie, Aubrey’s leg is going to take a while to heal, and I can’t get away from work. You need to come to the hospital and take care of her for a few days.” He continued without taking a breath. “And before you come, clear out the guest room. When Aubrey’s discharged, she’ll stay with us for a while to recover. That way you can make her some of that bone broth she likes every day.” “No,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m not doing that.” His voice rose to a shout on the other end. “Sophie! You’ve gone too far!” “If you hadn’t thrown your little fit, none of this would have happened! You caused this mess, and now you have to take responsibility for it.” He hung up before I could respond. I picked up my suitcase and walked out the door. I wasn’t going to the hospital. I was going to see my best friend, Jenna. She was a lawyer. When Jenna heard I was finally filing for divorce, she didn’t seem surprised at all. In fact, she clapped her hands in delight. “It’s about damn time! I never could stand that jerk Ethan. Let him and that snake Aubrey have each other.” She paused, her expression turning serious. “But what about Leo? Are you going for full custody?” My heart clenched. I thought of my son, wishing another woman was his mother. For the first time, the fog of maternal obligation cleared, and I saw the situation with a cold, sharp clarity. “No,” I said. “He can have him.” 4 When I returned to the house to pick up the last of my things, they were all back. And so was Aubrey, the woman with the supposedly severe leg injury. She was reclining on the sofa like a tragic queen, surrounded by her court of three adults and one child, all fussing over her. The moment he saw me, Ethan’s gentle expression vanished, replaced by a dark scowl. “Where have you been? The house is a wreck, you didn’t clean up, and you ignored me when I told you to go to the hospital.” “I had things to do,” I said vaguely. He narrowed his eyes. “What could you possibly have to do?” He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. You’re back now. Since you wouldn’t go to the hospital, I brought Aubrey here.” He said it as if he’d done me a great favor. “You can take care of her here at home. It’ll save you the trip.” Before I could form a response, he bent down and scooped Aubrey into his arms, heading toward the master bedroom. “I’ll get her settled,” he announced. Aubrey shot me a triumphant look over his shoulder, then clutched at his collar with a feigned panic. “Oh, Ethan, I couldn’t possibly stay in the master bedroom…” Ethan turned his head and looked at me. “The master is bigger, and it gets better sunlight. It’s better for her recovery. Aubrey will stay in here for the time being. You can move into the guest room.” I just stood there, stunned. He had completely erased me from the equation. “Well, what are you waiting for?” my mother-in-law snapped, her voice sharp with impatience. “Get in the kitchen and start making dinner. We’re all starving.” My father-in-law and Leo sat amidst the mess, not moving a muscle, waiting with the placid entitlement of men who have never had to lift a finger in their own home. But this time, I didn’t obey. “I’ve already eaten,” I said, turning and walking toward the guest room. “If you’re hungry, you can make it yourselves.” Behind me, I heard my father-in-law begin to shout and my mother-in-law launch into a long, whining complaint. I had just texted my parents to let them know I was on my way when the guest room door swung open. It was Ethan. He saw me lying on the bed and his face darkened with rage. “Mom burned her hand trying to cook. And you can just lie here without a shred of guilt?” I didn’t even look at him. “Oh,” I said softly. “Tell her to be more careful next time.” After all, she had a lifetime of cooking ahead of her. He was speechless with anger. It took him a long moment to find his voice again. “Sophie, it was just a few crabs. Are you ever going to let this go? The house is falling apart. Can you please stop this nonsense?” He tried a different tactic, his voice softening slightly. “Look, I’ll buy you more crabs tomorrow, okay? Just get up and make dinner, then make some soup for Aubrey. She said yours is her favorite.” I rolled over, turning my back to him. He let out a cold snort. “Fine, Sophie. Don’t think for a second the world can’t turn without you.” He slammed the door on his way out. For the rest of the evening, I could hear the chaotic sounds of their attempts to run the household. For the first time in years, I fell asleep early. When I came out the next morning, only Aubrey was home. The pretense was gone. She stood up from the sofa without a hint of a limp and walked right up to me, her smile dripping with venom. “Ethan stayed up with me all night,” she purred. “Then he got up at the crack of dawn to drive downtown and get me croissants from that little French bakery I love. Leo went with him.” She gestured vaguely. “And his parents went out to the butcher to get bones. They’re going to make me bone broth themselves.” I ignored her and walked past, heading into the master bedroom to grab my suitcase. She followed me in, relentless. “You’re just a pathetic little joke, Sophie. No one loves you. Your husband, your son… they both love me.” Just as the words left her mouth, we heard the sound of a key in the front door lock. In an instant, Aubrey’s entire demeanor changed. Her triumphant smirk vanished. She raised her hand and slapped herself hard across the face, twice, then crumpled to the floor with a theatrical sob. “Sophie, I’m sorry!” she cried, her voice choked with fake tears. “I was wrong! I shouldn’t still have feelings for Ethan! Please, don’t hit me!” She began to crawl away from me, weeping. “I’ll leave, I promise! I’ll never get in your way again!” Before I could even process what was happening, a paper bag flew through the air and hit me square in the face. Ethan’s roar of fury followed a split second later. “SOPHIE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” Something sharp on the bag’s contents had cut my forehead; I felt a trickle of blood run down my temple. On the floor where the bag had fallen lay a scattered handful of large, uncooked blue crabs. Ethan was already on the floor, cradling Aubrey in his arms, looking at me with the pure, unadulterated hatred one reserves for an enemy. “I can’t believe you’ve become this vicious,” he spat. “And to think I went out of my way to buy you those damn crabs this morning. You don’t deserve a single thing.” Leo ran over and shoved me, hard. “Bad mommy! You hurt Auntie Aubrey! I’m gonna hit you!” My hip slammed against the door handle, sending a sharp, radiating pain through my side. I winced, but neither of them noticed or cared. Aubrey let out a small cry that her leg hurt, and in an instant, Ethan was sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her out the door. Leo trailed after them, his small face a mask of worry. I looked down at the crabs scattered on the floor, then picked up my suitcase. Without looking back, I walked out of the house and took a taxi to the airport.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386011”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After being roasted by my professor, I was so disheartened I broke up with my online boyfriend right there in class. The physics professor, who had just lectured us on “less romance, more studying,” suddenly looked panicked. “That’s all for today,” he announced abruptly. The class gasped. “No extra homework? No detention? Is this the same Demon Professor?” Meanwhile, my phone was vibrating like crazy. [Babe, I don’t want to break up.] [What did I do wrong? Tell me, I’ll change.] I sighed, deciding to be honest for once. [It’s not you, it’s me. If I keep dating, I’m going to fail Physics 101.] The professor was right. If my grades didn’t improve, I could kiss grad school goodbye. Suddenly, he sent a photo of a faculty ID card. [Babe, I can tutor you. I’m pretty good at physics.] My phone slipped from my hand, falling at 9.8 m/s². 1 My best friend, Tasha, was more dramatic than I was. “Chloe! You dropped your brand new iPhone 17 Pro Max!” I ignored the phone and grabbed Tasha by the shoulders, my voice trembling. “Tash, I have a friend… who is facing a life crisis, and she doesn’t know what to do!” Tasha looked confused. “What crisis?” “Hypothetically, I mean hypothetically… say my friend was online dating someone, broke up with him, and then found out his true identity. What should she do?” “How ‘true’ is this identity? Elon Musk’s son? A celebrity?” “No, it’s… more awkward. Like if you were online dating your gaming carry, and it turned out to be your mortal enemy.” Tasha backed away. “Don’t even joke about that!” “So… what do I do? Does he know who… your friend is?” “I don’t think so… maybe?” “Then who cares! You broke up online, never met, never kissed. What can he do to you?” “You’re right.” I exhaled a long breath, patting my chest. “Ugh, I’m scaring myself.” “Okay. Who is it? You look like you saw a ghost. Confess now, or I’ll—” “Oh my god, your cat is giving birth! I have to go deliver kittens!” “My cat was neutered eight years ago!” 2 Here’s the backstory. I met my online boyfriend, “Brand,” in a fan group. I couldn’t get tickets to see the singer Ash, so I joined his fan club hoping for a resale. Brand was the one who sold me his ticket. At the time, VIP tickets were impossible to get and were scalping for triple the price. He sold it to me at face value. I thought it was a scam until the physical ticket arrived via FedEx. He said his friend bailed last minute, and since I’d been begging in the group chat for a week, he decided to help me out. I was so touched. I even brought a gift to the concert to thank my fellow fan. But the seat next to me remained empty all night. Brand later told me he had an emergency at work. I felt bad for him, so I mailed him the concert merch I bought. He was surprised and insisted on paying me back. I laughed, “What kind of person do you think I am?” We started talking. We shared everything—daily life, Ash’s new songs, movies. Sometimes he’d send voice notes singing Ash’s songs. His voice was incredible—low, magnetic, husky. I saved every single one. One sleepless night, I confessed my feelings. [Typing…] appeared for a long time. Just when I thought he was drafting a rejection letter, a voice message popped up. He sounded nervous. [Sorry. I should have said it first.] I asked, “You haven’t even seen my photo. Aren’t you afraid I’m ugly?” He chuckled, a sound that plucked at my heartstrings. “I’ve imagined what you look like, but knowing it’s you behind the screen makes the rest irrelevant.” My heart skipped a beat. My face burned. I tried to change the subject. “Well… confessing is a young person’s game.” Whenever I mentioned our six-year age gap, he’d get defensive. “Fine, fine. I’m robbing the cradle.” “And I’m respecting my el—” “Babe, I miss you.” “I miss you too~” Okay, “elder” was a banned word. Got it. It wasn’t until I broke up with him in physics class that I realized… No wonder we always had the same weather, same sleep schedule, even the same winter and summer breaks. I thought he was a grad student at my university. I didn’t realize he was the professor. Mom, I think I’m in big trouble. 3 Strictly speaking, Professor Shen isn’t a tenured faculty member at our school. He’s a visiting scholar from MIT, the kind with multiple papers in Nature. The original professor for this elective was his former classmate. She went on maternity leave, and Shen stepped in to cover for her. Teaching undergrad physics was overkill for him. He was just doing a favor. At first, his classes were packed. People were standing in the aisles. Rumor had it the Physics Department got a top-tier hottie who looked like a movie star. After a few lectures, Professor Shen’s Socratic method—randomly calling on people and grilling them—scared off 90% of the eye-candy seekers. The ones left were people like me, who needed the credits and couldn’t afford to fail. I’ve always loved physics, thanks to sci-fi movies. Especially astrophysics. Professor Shen was strict about attendance, but his lectures were engaging. He made complex theories easy to understand. He treated an elective like a core major course. Some loved it; some hated it. When I realized Brand was him, I went through the five stages of grief in about ten seconds: Shock → Panic → Fear → Denial → Acceptance → Recklessness. Since I asked to break up, Shen’s texts hadn’t stopped. When he sent the photo of his ID: [MIT Physics Visiting Scholar: Shen Xiuming], I had to face a dilemma: Is it scarier to dump a professor and then have him find out you’re his student? Or to date a professor and then have him find out you’re his student? I think the first one is worse. With the second one… maybe I can kiss my way to forgiveness? I thought of Shen’s handsome, ascetic face calling me “babe” in voice notes. I thought of his long, elegant hands spinning a globe… and Venmo-ing me cash. My ears burned. I poked my head out from under the covers and opened the chat with Brand. [We don’t have to break up. But I have a condition.] He replied instantly: [Name it, babe. Anything.] I hesitated, then typed slowly: [That offer to tutor me in physics… does it still stand?] 4 To keep Shen from realizing I was his student, I only asked questions from my other physics classes. My breakup threat must have traumatized him because he was walking on eggshells. [If you don’t understand, it’s because I didn’t explain it well.] [You got this wrong because I haven’t covered that topic yet.] [Rest if you’re tired. We can continue tomorrow night.] This gentle Brand and the icy Professor Shen in class… the cognitive dissonance was real. Tasha nudged me. “Chloe, do you think Professor Shen has been… nicer lately?” I looked down, guilty. “Really?” “Yes! Today someone answered roll call for their roommate—usually a death sentence! He just made them write a reflection paper!” I once complained to Brand that 8 AM and 2 PM classes were torture. He had laughed then. I thought Mr. Self-Discipline couldn’t relate. “And! He stays 10 minutes after class to answer questions now. He used to just tell people to read the textbook!” I couldn’t listen anymore. Yesterday, he solved a problem I’d been stuck on for weeks. He asked why I didn’t ask my own professor. I said I was afraid of exposing my stupidity. Hehe. He paused, his voice soft as water. “You won’t. If you’re scared, it must mean your teacher is too cold and unapproachable.” AHHHHH! This subtle change was killing me! The desire to meet him in real life was reigniting!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386027”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel