Category: English

1 The night Julian Thorne brought his adopted sister home, she padded to our bedroom door. The white nightgown she was wearing was dangerously short. “Julian? I’m scared… I can’t sleep alone.” Julian sighed, got out of our bed, and gently told me to go to sleep. I sat alone in the dark for a long time. Then I called a dozen male models from Ford and told them the party was at my house. … The music and laughter are what finally lured Julian from her room. “Out.” His voice was quiet, but it sent an icy chill down everyone’s spine. The models scattered. The living room was suddenly empty, save for the two of us. “What is this, Cassia?” Julian asked, his brow furrowed. Behind him, Zoe was still wearing that ridiculous white lace thing, her hair loose, looking like a victim. I leaned back on the sofa, crossed my legs, and sipped my champagne. “Your sister was scared. I just called some people to keep her company.” Zoe’s face went pale. “What do you think I am?” I smiled, my voice sweet and sharp. “A shameless little tramp who hits on her own brother?” Julian’s face went cold. “Cassia.” Zoe’s eyes filled with tears, her body shaking with rage. “Who are you to talk? Everyone knows what you were! A slut! If it wasn’t for our families’ engagement, my brother would never have married a woman like you!” “Zoe, that’s enough!” She recoiled, tears streaming. “You’re yelling at me? For her? Didn’t you hear how she insulted me? Fine! I’ll leave! I’ll just go!” She made a dramatic, sobbing dash for the front door, the tiny nightgown practically falling off her. Julian, exasperated, caught her, scooped her up, and carried her back to her room. When he returned, he looked exhausted. “Go to bed, Cassia.” I just stared at him, cold. “I’m tired,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m exhausted. Can we please not do this?” “Did you hear what your sister called me?” “Zoe’s young, she says things she doesn’t mean. I’ll apologize on her behalf.” I laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “She’s not wrong. Our families are well-matched. A merger. An arranged marriage. And I was a party girl, Julian. I never had a shortage of men. Especially beautiful men.” His jaw tightened. He crossed the room, pushed me back against the sofa, and gave me a hard, punishing kiss. His voice was a low growl. “Cassia, need I remind you that you are my wife?” I smiled, but my eyes were burning. “And need I remind you who it was that dragged me out of clubs, night after night? Who insisted on being my ‘fiancé’ when I didn’t want one? Who was it that begged and pleaded to marry me?” He softened, resting his forehead against mine. “It was me. It was always me.” I pushed him away. “Julian,” I said, my voice flat, “it’s her or me. Tomorrow, she’s gone.” I slammed the bedroom door. The next morning, Zoe was at the breakfast table, wearing Julian’s shirt, happily greeting me. “Hi, ‘sister!’ Good morning!” I froze. The bottom dropped out of my world. 2 Julian, who hadn’t set foot in our kitchen in the three years we’d been married, was standing at the stove. In an apron. Making soup. “Cassia, you have to try this! Julian’s fish bisque is the best. Anytime I’m upset, he makes it for me, and it fixes everything!” Yesterday she called me a slut. Today she was bragging about how he took care of her. Julian just looked over, as if nothing was wrong. “You’re up. Come sit.” Did he think I was joking? Or had he already made his choice? I took a deep breath, fighting the nausea and rage, and called my new assistant. “Alex, I need breakfast. A black coffee and a croissant. My desk. Nine AM.” I turned and walked out. I heard Zoe’s complaint behind me. “I was being nice, and she’s still pouting! Whatever. More for me. You made it for me anyway, right, Julian?” On the way to the office, I called my brother. “I want a divorce.” “Are you kidding me?” “No.” “Did… Julian agree? He fought like hell to marry you, Cassia…” “His opinion doesn’t matter,” I snapped. “I’m divorcing him.” “Okay. Give me a month. I’ll get the paperwork started.” I threw my phone on the passenger seat and stared at the trees flashing by. This morning, I decided. I’m done, Julian. You and your sister can have each other. After the morning meeting, Julian’s assistant, Scott, delivered a massive bouquet of my favorite yellow roses. I glanced at them and handed the vase to my new assistant. “Here. For your desk.” Julian, who was waiting in my office, saw the whole thing. I didn’t care. I pulled my black card from my wallet and tucked it into Alex’s shirt pocket. “The breakfast was perfect. A reward.” Alex just smiled and took it. “Thank you, boss.” Julian watched him leave, his face impassive. Then he cornered me, pressing me against my desk. “You know exactly how to make me angry. Is this your revenge?” 3 “Please,” I sneered. “If I wanted revenge, I’d have given him a key to my penthouse, not a credit card.” Julian’s face softened into a sigh. “I skipped my entire morning agenda to see you. Are you still mad?” He pulled me into his arms. “Cassia, what are you even mad about?” I almost laughed. I’d been furious for twelve hours, and he didn’t even know why. I held up my phone. It was a friend request from Zoe. The profile picture was new. It was her, this morning, still wearing his shirt, posing playfully in a field of yellow roses. “The breakfast,” I said, my voice dead. “You made it for her. We’ve been married three years, and you’ve never even boiled water for me.” “The flowers. You sent me one bouquet. You gave her an entire garden.” He was silent for a moment. “If that’s what this is about, I can cook for you tonight. I can send you…” “Stop it!” I shouted. “Don’t you get it? She is crossing a line, Julian! And you’re letting her!” He looked baffled. “Cassia, what are you talking about? She’s just my sister.” “I’m a sister!” I shot back. “I don’t prance around my brother’s house in lingerie. I don’t crawl into his bed at twenty-something years old. And I sure as hell don’t leave bite marks on his collarbone.” He flinched, his hand instinctively going to his neck. “Last night. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?” He actually looked amused. “She’s always been like that. She bites. Like a puppy.” “I don’t want to hear it,” I snapped. “You forget, she’s not your blood sister.” He stiffened. “No, she’s not. But don’t imply something so disgusting.” “Get out.” But he just smiled, a slow, infuriating smile. He leaned in. “Cassia. It’s been a long time since you were jealous.” “I’ll tell her to watch herself. Don’t be mad. Please?” He knew exactly how to calm me down. I was about to say something when his phone rang. Zoe. 4 He glanced at the screen, sighed, and sent the call to voicemail. He took my hand. “I’ll call my parents. I’ll have her move back home.” His lips brushed my ear. “Come home early. What do you want for dinner? This time, I’ll make it just for you.” I suddenly remembered him, years ago, dragging me out of a club, his face a mask of anger. But he never yelled. He just held my face, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. “Cassia, what do I have to do? Just tell me.” I softened. “Okay, Julian. I’ll trust you. One more time.” I squeezed his hand. “But if you lie to me… I will never, ever forgive you.” He smiled, kissing my eyelids. “Cassia, I have never lied to you.” … When I got home that night, Julian wasn’t back. Zoe was on the sofa, radiating anger. “Why didn’t you accept my friend request?” I ignored her. “Is there a reason?” “What did you say to him?” she shrieked, blocking my path. “Why is he making me leave?” I didn’t want to engage. But she suddenly grabbed a vase and threw it at me. It shattered against my temple. The pain was blinding. I felt glass and rose thorns scrape my face and arms. Just as I stumbled, the front door opened. Zoe grabbed a jagged piece of glass and held it to her own wrist. “I was just trying to apologize!” she screamed at me, tears streaming. “Why do you hate me so much? Is this what you want? Do I have to die to make you happy?” Julian’s eyes widened in horror. “Zoe!” “Brother…” she sobbed, “I know I’m the extra one. I won’t get in the way of your happiness. I won’t…” Blood welled up. Julian’s face went white. He’d never looked so terrified. “Don’t be stupid! I’m taking you to the hospital!” He swept her into his arms. He didn’t even look at me. Panic seized me. “Julian! She’s faking! She did this to herself!” He was already out the door. I slid down the wall, my legs giving out. My heart felt like it had been cut, too.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385676”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Chapter 1 After Isabelle postponed our wedding for the tenth time, I was done. When my best friend’s second kid had his baptism, I sent a gift but didn’t go. When my buddies planned a camping trip, I found out she was invited, so I backed out. When my boss tried to “outsource” me to her firm to manage a project, I quit. Even when her parents came to my apartment to plead her case, I didn’t answer the door. I scrubbed every photo of her from my cloud. Blocked her number, deleted her contact. I deactivated the shared social media account we’d used to post our “journey.” We’d known each other for twenty-five years. We’d been in love for five. I thought we were inevitable. But after ten canceled weddings, I finally got the message. You can’t love someone else until you love yourself. “Alex, I’m so sorry, I’m on my way. I’m almost there, just wait for me.” Isabelle hung up before I could say a word. I turned to the hotel coordinator, my face burning. “My fiancée, she’s almost here. Can we just… can we have a few more minutes? We can run the rehearsal really fast.” The coordinator gave me that tight, professional smile. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vance. Your reservation for the ballroom expired ten minutes ago. The next couple is already waiting for their rehearsal. We have to clear the space.” I looked past him. The next couple was standing right there, arms crossed, looking furious. I forced a smile. “No, you’re right. My apologies. I’ll get our things.” The wedding planner followed me out. “Mr. Vance, same as the last nine times… even though the rehearsal didn’t happen, the deposit is non-refundable.” I managed a bitter laugh. “I know. It’s fine. I’m the one who wasted your time.” This was the most exclusive wedding planning firm in New York. Their schedule was booked a year out. I’d paid double the deposit just to keep them on retainer for this revolving door of failure. “You’re a valued client, Mr. Vance,” he said, which only made me feel worse. “Just text me when you’re ready to schedule the eleventh.” I almost ran out of the hotel. This was, officially, the tenth time Isabelle had missed our wedding rehearsal. The first nine times, she had an excuse: an emergency business trip, a last-minute deadline. And every time, even though the invitations had already been sent, I’d agreed to postpone. This time, I wanted to see the excuse for myself. I leaned against a tree across the street from the hotel. I waited from noon until it was pitch black. She finally pulled up, jogging toward the hotel. “Alex! Oh my god, an emergency all-hands meeting just popped up. I floored it as soon as it ended. We can still do the rehearsal, right?” Her story was full of holes. I glanced down at her outfit—a skin-tight denim skirt and heels. Not exactly “emergency meeting” attire. “It’s too late,” I said. She grabbed my arm, her pace faltering. “I’m so sorry, baby. It’s just… the company is huge. As CEO, I can’t just walk out. We can do it next time.” I just waited. I knew what was coming next. She winced. “About that… I have to fly to Europe next week. We’ll have to… just… push the wedding back. Again.” Seeing the look on my face, she went into damage-control mode. “Don’t be sad! I promise, the next one will be perfect. I’ll even have my assistant find a truly auspicious date.” “And look,” she said, trying to pull me along. “I ordered you a new suit for this one. It’s Armani. You’ll look amazing.” She always bought me a suit as a consolation prize. My closet was already full of ten of them. I wasn’t accepting an eleventh. I pulled out my phone and opened my email. I showed her the order confirmation. “Leo’s suit is ready for pickup, too,” I said. “Don’t forget to remind him.” The color drained from her face, but she recovered fast. “The company gala is next week. Leo’s my top exec; he worked hard. I bought him a gift.” I nodded. Then I opened Instagram. I showed her the post she’d made an hour ago. The one she’d clearly forgotten to hide from me. “And this?” It was a picture of her, clinking champagne glasses with someone, a table loaded with food between them. Her face flushed, but this time with anger. “Alex, are you accusing me of cheating? Fine, I lied. I wasn’t at a meeting. I was with a client. Someone has to work! “Not everyone can just be… idle… all day, obsessing over flower arrangements. I lose millions every day I’m not in the office. I’m busy!” I was speechless. I just… I had to laugh. “Idle? Isabelle, we grew up together. We both have family companies. The only reason I’m not CEO of my family’s firm right now is because you said you were worried it would ‘get in the way of our relationship.’ You asked me to take a step back.” Her face went from red to white. “Oh, so I’m the one holding you back?” she spat. “Fine! If you’re so miserable, then we’re done!” I just smiled, turned, and walked away from her. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. My phone buzzed. It was a text. From Leo. “Mr. Vance, my sincere apologies. I insisted Isabelle try that new French bistro tonight and I’m afraid I made her late for your rehearsal. I’ll be sure to check your schedule before we schedule your eleventh.” The text was a dagger. “Dating” his secretary. And she called it “dinner with a client.” Pathetic. Isabelle and I had been inseparable since kindergarten. Our parents were old friends. It was the running joke: “You two are already an old married couple, just make it official.” I didn’t even know what marriage was, just that it meant she’d be with me forever. I wrote her a “guarantee” on notebook paper, promising I’d marry her. When we got older, our parents would tease me about it. I got so embarrassed I started avoiding her. She found me, crying, demanding to know what she’d done wrong. That’s when I knew. I was in love with her. We got together at twenty. At twenty-five, I proposed. And for the last five years, she’d been postponing the wedding. Leo, her brilliant assistant, had been by her side for the last two. They spent more time together than she and I ever did. I’d always told myself it was just work. I was done lying to myself. My phone rang again. My best friend, Mark. “Alex! Big news! My second kid, Sarah, her baptism is this Saturday. You and Isabelle have to be there.” I was about to say I’d come alone, but I remembered Mark’s wife, Lily, was Isabelle’s best friend. “Did… did Lily already tell Isabelle?” “Yeah, they’re on the phone right now. Why? You guys aren’t together? You finished the rehearsal and just went home? You’re slipping, man.” I just sighed. Everyone knew I was whipped. I mumbled that I’d be there and hung up. I went to a wine shop and bought a bottle I’d been saving. I drank it. Alone. I checked the security app for our apartment. A moving crew was there. Isabelle was packing her things. She must have seen the camera light turn on. She called my phone, and I let it go to the app’s audio. “What, Alex? Spying on me? Afraid I’m going to steal your stuff?” “Just the opposite,” I said, my voice flat. “Just reminding you to take the ten suits you bought me.” She hung up. Mark called back. He sounded furious. “She did it again, didn’t she? She bailed on the rehearsal. That’s it, I’m going to find that prick Leo and…” “Mark, don’t,” I cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not fighting. I’m… I’m just done.” I calmed him down. “It’s for the best, man,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ve been wanting to say this for a year. She… she hasn’t been present.” “Just… don’t let this mess things up between you and Lily.” “Never,” he said. I went home. The apartment was half-empty. It felt… quiet. I found her favorite perfume and a photo album she’d left. I opened the window and threw them into the dumpster. Chapter 2 To avoid Isabelle, I went to Mark and Lily’s a day early for the baptism. Mark opened the door, put a finger to his lips, and pulled me into the backyard. Through the window, we could see Isabelle, playing with Mark’s older kid. Lily was sitting next to her. “I just… I moved all my stuff out,” Isabelle was saying. “I’m just going to give him a little scare. He’ll freak out, and he’ll never yell at me again. He can’t live without me. He just needs to remember his place.” She was bragging. Mark looked like he was going to be sick. I just put a hand on his shoulder. Isabelle’s phone rang. She smiled, excused herself, and ran out the front door. We ducked behind a hedge. I followed her. Leo was leaning against his car. “I missed you,” he said, pulling her into a kiss. “I missed you, too,” she murmured. “But I couldn’t stand being away today…” “I know,” he said, his hand sliding down her back. “Thinking about you, making that idiot postpone his life ten times just for me… it’s the biggest turn-on.” “You’re awful,” she laughed, kissing him again. “It was your idea.” “And you loved it,” he said. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.” Mark physically lunged. I had to tackle him to keep him quiet. We waited until her car was gone. “You’re not… you’re not going to kill him?” I asked, letting him up. “I’m going to do worse,” Mark seethed. The next day, Isabelle called me, right on schedule. “Alex, where are you? You didn’t even show up for your best friend’s party? You have no class.” I knew she was just trying to pick a fight. I said nothing. “I left a bottle of my limited-edition perfume at the apartment,” she snapped. “I’m sure you’ve hidden it somewhere so you can smell it and think of me. I want it back. Now.” “Threw it out.” I hung up. She texted immediately. “Playing hard to get? Pathetic. Fine! I don’t want it! Don’t you dare come crawling back to me!” I deleted the text. That night, Mark put in our group chat: “Camping trip next weekend. To celebrate Sarah!” Everyone said yes. I was about to decline, and then I saw Isabelle’s text: “Sorry guys, I have to work :(” “I’m in,” I texted. Chapter 3 The next weekend, I was at the campsite, grilling skewers. A few of Lily’s friends—Isabelle’s “entourage”—came over. “So, Alex,” one of them sneered. “Valentine’s Day is coming. What’d you get Isabelle this time? Another car? Let’s see it.” They didn’t know. They still thought I was the doormat. I just ignored them and fanned the charcoal, sending a thick cloud of smoke right into their faces. They coughed and stumbled away, cussing me out. I was almost done grilling. I was about to put the teriyaki sauce on—Isabelle’s favorite—when I remembered. I wasn’t her doormat anymore. I went back to the cooler and got the habanero hot sauce. I dumped the whole bottle on. I put the skewers on the table. And, as if summoned, Isabelle appeared. I took off my apron and started walking to my car. “Alex, wait!” one of my friends called. “Isabelle’s here! She doesn’t drink beer! You have to take her drink!” I didn’t even turn around. “I don’t drink for strangers.” I heard the plastic cup hit the ground.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385692”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Seraphina’s first love, Clark, accidentally got himself locked in his office. As my punishment for it, she locked me in an abandoned cold storage unit to “reflect.” “You’re going to feel exactly what Clark felt,” she said, her voice like ice. “Maybe then you’ll learn your lesson.” She slammed the heavy door shut, leaving me with nothing but a single bowl of water. What she didn’t know was that the unit wasn’t abandoned at all. The moment she was gone, the power kicked on, and the chilling units roared to life. I trembled violently in the freezing dark, screaming for help until my throat was raw, my bloody handprints smearing the door and walls in a desperate plea. Seven days later, ready to receive my apology, she had the door opened. What they found was a corpse, frozen solid. … After a long day at work, Seraphina glanced at the clock. “It’s been three days. Hasn’t Alex admitted he was wrong yet?” she muttered. “That man is impossibly stubborn.” Her first love, Clark, entered with a bowl of chicken soup. “Seraphina, let it go. I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” he said softly. “Three days is long enough.” Seraphina’s expression softened the moment she saw him. “You’re just too kind, Clark. If only Alex had a fraction of your empathy.” “Don’t be so angry with him. He just cares about you too much.” At his words, Seraphina pulled out her phone and called her security team. “Has Alex confessed?” “No, Ma’am. It’s completely silent in there. Are you sure… are you sure nothing’s wrong?” “What could possibly be wrong? If he won’t admit his mistake, then he can stay right where he is.” She hung up, her face a mask of cold indifference once more. Beside her, Clark couldn’t hide a flicker of triumph in his eyes. You’ll be waiting forever for my confession, Seraphina. Because I’m already dead. I died three days ago. The moment they left, that “abandoned” cold storage unit had hummed to life. I was trapped inside, my screams swallowed by the insulated walls. At first, I could hear voices outside. I pounded on the door, begging them to let me out, but the guards were unmoved. “The Chairman said you’re to stay in there and reflect, sir. Please don’t make this difficult for us.” “No! Please, you don’t understand! The freezer’s on! Somebody, help me!” But the voices faded. They were gone. In the beginning, I tried to stay calm, searching for any possible way out. But as the temperature plummeted, my thoughts became sluggish, my body driven by a primal need to survive. I ran in circles, trying to generate some warmth, my breath pluming in the frigid air. Eventually, my legs gave out. I couldn’t even run anymore. A deep, numbing cold had seeped into my bones. I collapsed in a corner, curling into a ball, a futile attempt to preserve what little heat I had left. The unit used to store frozen seafood, and though the products were gone, the metal shelves remained. I dragged them, one by one, stacking them around me like a pathetic barricade against the encroaching frost. It was useless. The moment I realized I was going to die, my heart froze long before my body did. The first time I saw my own corpse, the shock was visceral. There I was, in the corner, covered in a thick layer of frost, my eyes wide with a silent, eternal despair. The door and walls were covered in the scratches from my fingernails, my fingertips bloody and raw. I tried to move closer, but an invisible force yanked me away, and suddenly, I was standing right beside Seraphina. Hearing her cold dismissal now, I could only laugh. Seraphina, I’m reflecting with my life. And in the next one, I pray I never have to see you again. I stood there, a silent observer, as Seraphina and Clark shared a look. He showed her his phone. “Seraphina, I got us tickets to the art exhibit. Will you come with me tomorrow?” “Of course. It’s getting late, you should get some rest.” But Clark clung to her hand. “I’m scared of the dark. Stay with me.” With a sigh of resignation, Seraphina stood up. I had forgotten. Clark was living in my house. The moment he returned from overseas, his first call was to Seraphina. He’d used the excuse of being unfamiliar with the city after being away for so long and asked to stay with us. What a joke. He grew up here. Five years abroad and he was a stranger in his own hometown? When I’d objected, Seraphina had shot me an impatient look. “Alex, his parents aren’t in town. Do you know how dangerous it is for him to live alone?” I knew. Because before we were married, I had lived alone in a rented apartment. And back then, Seraphina had said to me, “Alex, we need to respect ourselves. I don’t want to live together before we’re married.” The hypocrisy was breathtaking. Seraphina led Clark to the master bedroom. My bedroom. But when Clark arrived, he’d commented on how much he liked the light in that room, and just like that, Seraphina gave it to him. I watched coldly as she walked him to the door. Just as he was about to leave, a flash of lightning split the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. He shrieked and threw himself into Seraphina’s arms. Her body stiffened for a moment, but Clark just held on tighter. “Seraphina, I’m so scared. Can you please stay with me?” Her hand rested on his back for a moment before she gave him a gentle pat. “Okay.” In that instant, I felt like the world’s biggest fool. Because I’m scared of thunderstorms, too. I remember one night when I was living alone, a massive storm hit. The power went out, and I was terrified, the darkness punctuated by violent flashes of light. I called her, hoping for a few words of comfort. And what did Seraphina say? “How old are you, still scared of thunder? Alex, are you even a man? Stop using these tricks to get my attention. You’re a grown-up, so act like it, okay?” She hung up. I spent that entire night wrapped in a blanket, the only light coming from my phone’s flashlight, until I finally fell asleep at dawn. Looking back, I was so pathetic. Seraphina never cared. It always felt like there was a wall between us. I gave a bitter laugh. Even as a ghost, the sound of thunder sent a tremor of fear through me. I hugged myself, wanting to leave, but I was bound here, forced to watch as Seraphina held Clark, murmuring words of comfort. And Clark, nestled in her arms, shot a look over her shoulder—a look of sharp, triumphant victory. I sighed. To Seraphina, Clark would always be the one that got away, the ghost of her perfect past. What was I compared to that? I shook my head, glancing outside. Even in death, the fear was real. Thankfully, the storm passed after an hour, and Seraphina left his room. As her footsteps faded, Clark smirked, whispering to himself, “Seraphina, you’ll always be mine. No one can ever take you from me.” I was stunned. After all this time, he was still obsessed with her. Then why did he leave her in the first place? And Seraphina… if she could never forget him, why did she marry me? Back in her own room, Seraphina did something unusual. She opened her phone and stared at a picture of me. “Alex,” she murmured, “I hope you’re learning your lesson. Just say you’re sorry, just give in, and I’ll let you out.” I looked at her face and wanted to laugh. Give in? Apologize? For what? I didn’t lock Clark in his office! But Seraphina wouldn’t listen to a word of my explanation. Because Clark, with his perfect victim act, had told her he didn’t blame me—which, to her, was definitive proof of my guilt. She locked me in a freezer, killed me, and now she wanted me to say I was sorry? Hilarious. Seraphina was a smart woman; you don’t become the CEO of a major corporation by being an idiot. But when it came to Clark, she was deaf and blind. The next morning, one of the guards, looking deeply uneasy, came to report to her. “Ma’am, maybe we should let him out. We haven’t heard a single sound from the unit. That one bowl of water won’t last him five days.” Seraphina hesitated for a second, then her voice hardened. “He’ll be fine for ten days without food. Since he’s so determined to be stubborn, let him be. I want to see just how long he can hold out.” “But… but there’s no noise at all. We’re worried. What if he…” “Don’t worry,” she cut in. “Alex is an expert at playing the victim.” With that single sentence, she sealed my fate. The guard said no more. Just then, Clark walked in. Hearing her words, a small smile touched his lips. “Seraphina, let it go. It’s been days. I’m perfectly fine now.” “No. He locked you in that office for hours. He deserves to be punished.” Clark’s smile widened, though his words were laced with false concern. “Seraphina, isn’t this going too far? He is your husband, after all.” He sighed dramatically. “It’s my fault, really… for being a bother and making him jealous. Just let him go.” Every word was perfectly crafted. On the surface, he was defending me, but each sentence hammered another nail into my coffin. And Seraphina bought every bit of it. “Clark, you’re just too soft-hearted. Fine. For your sake, I’ll give him one more chance.” Clark’s face froze. That clearly wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. “What’s wrong?” Seraphina asked, noticing his expression. “Nothing… it’s just, he’s been in there for days. Maybe we should bring a doctor along, just in case.” Clark, being thoughtful? I highly doubted it. But he had a point. Bring a doctor to confirm my death. Less trouble for him later. I can’t wait for you to find out the truth, Seraphina. I want to see the look on your face when you realize I’m dead. She took a deep breath, her hand finding Clark’s. “If only he were half as considerate as you.” “Seraphina, he’s still your husband.” Her eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions. I sneered. I never wanted to compete with Clark for anything. Husband? The title was a fucking joke. Even if this whole “reflection” farce hadn’t happened, I was already planning to divorce her. I was done. Seraphina’s face darkened, her voice becoming absolute. “Forget it. You don’t need to defend him. Alex is all talk and drama! It’s always ‘this hurts’ or ‘that hurts,’ or ‘I didn’t do it.’ I’ve seen right through him! None of you are to plead for him! Unless he apologizes, he’s not coming out!” Clark seemed to let out a silent breath of relief. He stood quietly to the side. I was just… stunned. So that’s what you really think of me, Seraphina. A sharp pain, like a shard of ice, pierced my chest. But then I remembered. I was already dead. None of it mattered anymore. Finally, seven days after she’d locked me in, Seraphina remembered me. She led a group of people to the cold storage unit. The guards at the door were trembling. “Ma’am.” “Still not willing to give in?” “Ma’am, no. We’ve called out to him, but… there’s been no response. Not a sound.” One of them swallowed hard. “Sir… you don’t think something’s happened, do you?” Seraphina scoffed. “What could happen? He’s just being dramatic. Open the door. I want to hear him apologize to my face.” Clark’s lips curved into a smirk. The guards moved to unlock the heavy door. When they finally swung it open, they froze, their faces draining of all color. From behind them, Seraphina’s impatient voice rang out. “Well? Get him out here!” “Ma’am… M-Ma’am, the freezer… I think the freezer was on!” Seraphina strode forward. “On? Are you trying to make excuses and shift the blame?” She reached the doorway. A wave of arctic air billowed out, so cold it felt like it could freeze the soul. Her face went white. “Alex! Don’t think turning on the freezer will make me forgive you! Get the hell out here right now!” Silence. All around her, people just stared at each other, horrified. Enraged, Seraphina hesitated, then commanded in a cold voice, “Get him. Bring him out to me!” A few guards cautiously entered. When they saw the frozen figure huddled behind the metal shelves, a collective gasp of terror escaped them. “Sir… Sir’s frozen to death!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385709”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At our college reunion, I somehow ended up in bed with Ethan Cole, the one guy I was pretty sure hated my guts. By the time I realized I was pregnant, I was 28 weeks. Too late for the easy way out. So I found him. “We need to get married.” He shoved me away, his face a mask of pure disgust. “Who the hell are you?” I threw the ultrasound printout at his chest. “I’m nobody to you,” I sneered. “But the kid in my uterus knows you pretty well.” “You personally shot him in there.” 1 Seven months after I’d slept with Ethan Cole, I found out I was pregnant. At that stage, in this state, my options were zero. So I took the OB-GYN report and went to find him. I didn’t have his number. I just had his address—a glass tower in the city—and I camped out in the lobby for two solid weeks before I finally caught him walking out. I stepped in front of him. “I’m pregnant.” His face, which had already soured at the sight of me, turned cold. “You’re pregnant. What does that have to do with me?” “It’s yours.” He didn’t even look at me, just scrolled through his phone. “So get an abortion. I’m not having a kid with you.” He clearly didn’t believe a word I said. I shook my head. “Can’t. I’m too far along.” “Ethan, we’re getting married.” That wasn’t a request. It was a notification. And it finally pissed him off. He looked up, his eyes locking on me. He took a step, deliberately slamming his shoulder into mine as he walked past. I stumbled, catching my balance on a pillar. He looked back, his gaze dripping with contempt. “You want to marry me? Did you forget to put your face on this morning?” “I’ve seen girls try to gold-dig, but you’re the first one to show up with the whole construction-grade shovel.” “Mia,” he said, “I’m not even sure we’re acquaintances.” I was done playing. I pulled the lab report from my bag and threw it at him. “You’re right, we’re not. But this kid…” I paused, letting the wind from the revolving door whip my hair. “He knows you. You put him here.” He froze. He actually picked up the paper and read it, confirming I wasn’t lying. His eyes drifted down to the obvious bump under my loose dress, and his jaw clenched. “Twenty-eight weeks… seven months… So that night in my hotel room. The one who… fought me… that was you?” 2 “That night” was our five-year high school reunion. Halfway through, Chloe Anderson, our former prom queen, passed out wedding invitations. When everyone saw the groom’s name, the room exploded. The most popular girl in school was marrying Ryan Miller, the quiet, painfully shy class president. Everyone was ribbing Ryan, saying they never saw it coming. The two of them just stood there, glowing. The only person not celebrating was Ethan Cole, drinking himself into a stupor in the corner. I knew he’d been in love with Chloe for years. He’d transferred from a private prep school to our public high school just to be in the same class as her. In school, I was his deskmate. He was constantly using me as his go-between, making me pass her his stupid, sappy notes. I watched him see Chloe and Ryan kissing in the parking lot after graduation. Now, at the reunion, I watched him slam an entire bottle of white wine. He caught me looking and gave me a bitter, drunken smirk. I just went back to my food. The sweet-and-sour ribs were amazing. Suddenly, Chloe raised her glass. “You know, I actually have Mia to thank for me and Ryan getting together!” I froze. “She was our little secret cupid! She was passing Ryan’s notes to me all senior year!” “I found out he liked me, and I liked him… and when I finally told him, he was so confused! He said he’d never written me a single note!” “I thought about it, and the handwriting was different… Ryan’s not the type for all that poetry…” She beamed at me, holding Ryan’s arm. “Mia, you knew we liked each other, didn’t you? You’re the one who brought us together! You have to be my maid of honor!” CRASH. A glass shattered. I didn’t have to look. It was Ethan. The table went quiet. Ethan just hissed, “Fucking… disgusting.” Everyone assumed he was just being his usual germaphobe self about the broken glass. Only I knew he was talking about me. I just calmly wiped my mouth with a napkin. Someone tried to break the tension. “Easy, man, it’s just a glass. Don’t let it ruin the party.” “Yeah, Ethan, you’re the only one not smiling. Seeing Chloe and Ryan so happy… does it make you want to settle down?” “Speaking of, you and your old deskmate Mia were pretty tight. I remember you sat right next to her on day one. You two ever…?” Ethan, who had been silent, finally spoke. His voice was laced with venom. “Shut up. I’d never hook up with a man-hater.” 3 My hand paused. I looked at him. And just like that, the spotlight was on me. “Oh yeah, I remember! Mia had that shaved head! I thought she was a new guy.” “Ethan, was that it? You thought she was a dude, so you sat next to her?” “Hah! No way. Even Ethan has standards. He’s not going for… that. He was always after Chloe.” “But seriously, Ethan, you’re a total germaphobe. How did you stand sitting next to her? She always smelled like… like garbage.” …I stopped breathing. They didn’t know. How could they? They didn’t know I lived in a single-wide trailer by the dump. That my grandpa, my only family, was disabled and collected cans to pay our bills. That the money we made was barely enough for food, let alone utilities. I couldn’t have long hair like the other girls, because we couldn’t spare the water to wash it. I had two shirts for school—hand-me-downs, identical—so they thought I never changed. And yes, I smelled. Because our trailer was next to a landfill. My entire high school trauma, all the things I’d buried, served up as a party joke. Ethan slammed his hand on the table. “I said, shut your fucking mouths.” I couldn’t stay. I got up and left. I went straight to the staff locker room, showered, and changed into my uniform. My shift started at 11 PM. After graduation, I’d gotten a job at this hotel. I was now the front-desk manager. This hotel. Ethan’s father owned it. He was, technically, my boss. He came in all the time. He never once looked at me. I was processing the night’s reports, but my hands were shaking. I thought about Ethan’s “man-hater” comment. I thought about them all laughing. I was so angry. I threw the report down, went to the front desk, and checked the reservation for the Presidential Suite. Of course. Ethan Cole. Too drunk to drive home. I went to the staff elevator, rode it to the top floor, and used my manager’s master key. I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted to yell at him. Maybe slap him while he was passed out. The door clicked open. A water bottle flew at my head. I dodged. “Mia? You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.” I picked up the bottle, twisted the cap, and took a drink. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” He was drunk, and he’d trashed the room. He stormed over and grabbed me, slamming me against the door. He was yelling, calling me every name in the book. I was there for a fight, so I gave him one. I started yelling back. We were screaming at each other, and then he pushed me, and I pushed him back. He was a high school jock, but I’d spent my life fighting. I grabbed his hair. He ripped my shirt. I bit him. He bit me back. He was bleeding. He was breathing hard. He grabbed my chin, and he kissed me. …It was a long, brutal night. 4 I was gone before he woke up. I’d left marks. Scratches. Bite marks. I was terrified he’d press charges, so I ran. I checked the security footage for that hallway. The camera was out. “Under Maintenance.” I breathed a sigh of relief. And then I quit. I found a new job. I was busy. I never got morning sickness. The tiny bit of weight I gained, I figured was stress. Until my first physical in a year. 28 weeks. I told Ethan the whole story, leaving out the parts that made me look bad. “You kissed me first,” I insisted. “I tried to fight, but you… you have that weird kink, I guess. The harder I fought, the more excited you got. You… you really hurt me.” His face was pale. “I was blackout drunk… And who the hell let you in my room?” “Guest complaint. Trashing the room. I’m the manager.” “It’s my father’s hotel! I can trash it if I want to!” I let a tear roll down my cheek. “But I’m not yours to trash, Ethan.” “Mia, don’t you…! Shut up!” He raked his hands through his hair, furious. “Get rid of it. I’ll pay for everything.” “I told you, I can’t.” “I am not marrying you.” “Why not?” A sharp, female voice cut through the tension. A woman in a Chanel suit was walking toward us, her face grim. Ethan’s mom. She walked right past her son and put a protective arm around me. “He will marry you.” Ethan looked terrified. “Mom, I am not—” She slapped him. Hard. Across the face. “You will not speak, you little bastard.” He stared at me with pure hatred, then turned and stormed off. His mother’s face instantly softened as she turned to me. “Don’t you worry, dear. I’m here. He’ll marry you. And you are definitely having this baby.” 5 Ethan’s mom took me for a new ultrasound, had a blood test done to confirm the paternal match, and then moved me into a luxury condo. I learned the truth. The Cole family patriarch, Ethan’s grandfather, was dying. And he was holding the entire $8 billion family company hostage. He was an old-school tyrant. He wanted a blood heir. His will stated that the first of his grandchildren to produce a “legitimate heir” would get the controlling shares. If none did by the time he died, it all went to charity. It was a family comedy of errors. The eldest son was sterile. The second son was gay. The third son… was now a daughter. That left Ethan. The only one who could do the job, and he was still mooning over his high school crush. I wasn’t a problem. I was the solution. Two months later, I gave birth. I was moved to a $100,000-a-month postpartum recovery center. Ethan was forced to sign the marriage certificate. It was all too easy. So easy, it made me nervous. I thought he’d fight harder. I thought, at the very least, he’d hate the baby. But he didn’t. He came to the center every day. Not for me. For the baby. He was… a natural. He held him. He changed him. He learned how to bathe him from the nurses. Of course he did. This baby had just bought him a multi-billion dollar company. He still hated me. I could feel it. I didn’t care. I had everything I wanted… except love. And love doesn’t pay the bills.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385725”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband was “gamed” when he was younger. After the Gamer girl left, he was heartbroken and married me. But ten years later, she came back. My husband didn’t hesitate to abandon me and our daughter to go back to her. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. In fact, I was relieved. Because I had been gamed, too. And the man who gamed me? He’s my daughter’s real father. Now, he’s back. 1 The day Liam handed me the divorce papers, I wasn’t surprised. “Chloe and I were apart for ten years. Now she’s back, and I… I don’t have a choice.” His voice was flat. “Sign this. You and Mia get everything—the house, the portfolio, all of it. For the last ten years… I don’t think you can say it was a bad deal.” Chloe, who had been smiling serenely at his side, suddenly frowned. “Everything? Liam, what are you talking about?” She was indignant. “You’re one of the biggest actors in the world! She’s just some physicist, how much could she possibly make? You’re literally giving away a decade’s worth of your earnings!” Liam looked at her, his gaze heavy. I caught the briefest flash of exhaustion, of irony, before it was masked by something more complex. “You have me. Isn’t that enough? “She was the one here for the last ten years. Where were you? This… this is what I owe her.” The mention of that lost decade made Chloe shrink, just a little. Chloe is a Gamer. Ten years ago, she completed her “quest”—Liam—and chose to “exit” the world. Liam had a complete breakdown. He begged, he pleaded, he humiliated himself trying to make her stay. But she left, tossing off a casual, “You’re just an NPC, you idiot. The whole point of ‘gaining affinity’ was to leave.” Liam didn’t believe her. He waited three years. In the fourth year, his hope finally shattered. His parents, desperate, set him up with me. The following year, our daughter, Mia, was born. I always knew he had a ghost in his heart, someone he could never forget. I just never thought she’d actually come back. Three days ago, Chloe returned. All it took was a single “I had my reasons,” and Liam was ready to burn his entire life down to be with her again. “Fine… I guess she got lucky,” Chloe muttered, pouting. “Consider it her paycheck for babysitting you all these years.” A small, sharp pain went through my chest. Chloe had it backward. If anything, he was the one who took care of me. My research is all-consuming. Once I’m deep in a problem, the world outside fades. When Liam wasn’t on set, he was the one holding our life together. He made sure I ate. He made our house a home. He was my anchor. But none of that mattered now. “Fine. I’ll sign.” I picked up the pen and signed my name—Sarah Jensen—on both copies. It was done. Liam was quiet, watching me with a heavy expression. “Sarah…” His voice was rough. “Take care of yourself.” I didn’t want to answer. I just wanted to get out of that room. But as I turned to leave, Chloe’s voice, sharp with sudden interest, stopped me. “Wait. Sarah? Sarah Jensen? How do you spell that?” She snatched the agreement from Liam’s hand, her eyes locking onto my signature. “Ha. I knew it.” She looked up, her eyes dancing with a malicious, playful glint. “If I’m not mistaken… you know Ethan Cole, don’t you?” Ethan Cole. The name hit me like a physical blow. The air punched out of my lungs. A cold shock raced up my spine, and my fingers started to tremble. Liam saw it instantly. His brow furrowed. “Who’s Ethan Cole?” Chloe laughed, a smug, knowing sound. “Oh, Liam, don’t worry about your ex-wife. Let’s just say, Ethan Cole is to her what I am to you. He’s the one who got under her skin. The one she could never, ever forget.” She turned that cruel, bright gaze back to me, savoring every word. “And I thought you should know… “He’s coming back, too.” The instant she said it, Liam’s head snapped toward me, his eyes wide with a new, sudden panic. His face darkened, a storm cloud passing over his features. 2 Ethan Cole was coming back. The news left me reeling, but I couldn’t fall apart. Mia was waiting for me. I pulled myself together and got to her school just as the final bell rang. Mia came flying out, a little butterfly headed straight for me. Halfway across the lawn, she stopped. A group of moms was huddled by the gate, glued to their phones. “Oh my god, did you see? Liam Asher just posted!” “It’s insane! They’re saying it’s his ‘one true love’ he lost years ago!” “Wait, I thought he was married? I read somewhere his wife was, like, a Nobel-track scientist?” “Please, that was just some rumor. This is official. Look at the picture, they’re so romantic!” They were all fawning over the post—a black-and-white photo, artfully shot. A man’s hand, strong and familiar, was clasped around a woman’s, her nails perfect, blood-red. The caption: True love always finds its way back. In the seven years we were married, Liam had never once acknowledged my existence in public. Mia stood frozen for a moment, then slowly walked over, her face tilted up at me. “Mommy,” she asked, her voice very small. “Does this mean… Daddy’s not coming home for a while?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I knelt and pulled her tiny body into a hug. “Daddy has… a lot of work to do right now. But he’ll come see you as soon as he can.” Mia was quiet in my arms, processing. Then she nodded, her small face serious. “It’s okay, Mommy.” She pulled back, her eyes clear and frighteningly perceptive. “From now on, whoever is nice to you is my Daddy.” My heart just broke. She’s too smart, too aware. Maybe she sensed it the moment Liam brought Chloe to the house three days ago. The sky, which had been clear, suddenly darkened. A low rumble of thunder. Fat raindrops began to spatter the pavement. I scooped Mia into my arms, looking around for shelter. Just then, a black umbrella opened above our heads. The chaotic sound of the rain instantly muted to a dull, rhythmic drumming. I looked up. Through the curtain of rain, I met his eyes. Eyes I hadn’t seen in seven years. A face that was seared into my memory. Ethan. 3 Chloe said he was coming back. She didn’t say today. He stood there, holding the umbrella, his voice rougher than I remembered. “Sarah. Long time, no see.” I just stared, lost in a flashback. Mia tugged on my shirt. “Mommy, who is this man?” Ethan’s gaze dropped to her. He crouched down, and a smile—that devastating, familiar smile—spread across his face. “I’m an old friend of your mom’s. You must be Mia, right? How old are you?” Before I could stop her, Mia answered in her clear, proud voice. “I’m six!” “Six…” The smile on Ethan’s face froze. He studied her, really studied her. He looked at her eyes—his eyes, with that slight upward tilt at the corners. He looked at the bridge of her nose, at the tiny, faint freckle there, identical to his own. His head snapped up, his eyes wide with a dawning, horrified realization. “When I left… were you already pregnant?” 4 I couldn’t deny it. Mia looks nothing like Liam. She is Ethan’s mirror image. Just like Chloe, Ethan was a Player from another world. His target… was me. In college, I was the definition of a nerd. Awkward, quiet, buried in textbooks. Ethan was my polar opposite. He was fire, and he seemed hell-bent on melting my ice. For two years, he pursued me in a relentless, campus-wide campaign. He brought me coffee in the library, he was the first one to defend me when a TA belittled my research, he took me to my first concert, he sat under the stars and played terribly-tuned guitar for me… All of my firsts were with him. If Chloe was Liam’s “perfect memory,” Ethan was my sun. I thought we had forever. Until that night on the beach, seven years ago. He got down on one knee, holding a ring. The second I whispered “Yes”… A shimmering, blue-green tear appeared in the air behind him. An eye opening in reality. He told me his mission was complete. He was going home. “What about me?” I was never a crier, never hysterical, but the tears were choking me. His face tightened. He looked… pained, but his resolve was steel. “I’m sorry, Sarah. You’re just an NPC.” Just an NPC. Then why did my heart feel like it was being physically ripped in half? I lunged for him, tried to grab him, to follow him into that… thing. But the Rift was only open for a second. He stepped through, and it snapped shut, winking out of existence. Leaving me alone on the beach. He was gone. A few weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. My parents, thinking I was just suffering from a bad breakup, introduced me to their friend’s son, Liam Asher. Back then, he was just a struggling actor. He’d waited three years for Chloe and had finally given up. He was a wreck. I was a wreck. Two broken people, clinging to each other in the cold. We got married. Mia was born. We raised her together. We poured ourselves into our careers. Life… moved on. But for me, that feeling—of being used, of being discarded—never went away. Sometimes I’d look at Mia and wonder if I’d imagined him. But her face was a constant, living reminder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” Ethan was pale, his eyes wide with panic and regret. “I… I had to leave. I had family back in my world, I…” He was rambling, trying to explain. “I’ve been thinking about you every single day. I’ve been trying to get back, but there was no way. “Then… the System reopened. It gave ‘returners’ a chance to come back, to… to choose again. I took it. I came back immediately.” He stepped toward me, his eyes red-rimmed, trying to take my hand. “Sarah, I don’t want to lose you again. And now… a child. Our child. You’re already divorced from Liam, so maybe we could…” I snatched my hand away before he could touch me. “What is wrong with you Players?” My voice was low, colder than the rain. “Is this some kind of group tour? “You come and go as you please. You break things, you break people, and then you just… show up again? “A ‘good reason’? A flimsy ‘I regret it’? Do you think that erases seven years of damage?” I looked him dead in the eye. “Ethan, what in God’s name makes you think I’d still be standing here, waiting for you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385741”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the peak of his success, Adrian Fidler asked me for a divorce. But that was right when Seraphina Rowe, the love of his life, conspired with his biggest rival to gut his company and then vanished without a trace. I didn’t leave. I stayed by his side for five long years. Not for love. I was bound to a “career supporter” script. My only way back to my own world was to help Adrian rebuild his empire. The day his new company went public, Adrian stood on the balcony of the stock exchange and rang the opening bell, with Seraphina’s hand in his. By the time he rushed home, I was already gone. My mission was complete. I had vanished from his life as completely as she once had. And I’d taken all his money with me. 1 As Adrian’s company soared, so did my status among the city’s elite wives. They all envied me, certain I’d made the right bet. Five years ago, we were the disaster couple of our social circle, with him doing everything in his power to force a divorce. But when his company collapsed and he was left broken and bankrupt, I was the one who stayed, playing the part of the devoted wife who helped him rise from the ashes. Everyone said my perseverance had finally paid off. But I knew something was wrong. Adrian was in love again. We knew each other too well. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, I saw the signs. He used to come home on time every night. Lately, he’d sit in his car in the driveway, chain-smoking, a deep weariness etched on his face. When he finally came inside, he was silent. I used to pick out all his clothes—a strict palette of black, white, and gray. Suddenly, he had his assistant buying them. He’d started wearing teal. It was her favorite color. Seraphina’s. And on her birthday, the lights in his office building stayed on all night. I had a feeling, a cold certainty growing in my gut. It all clicked into place today, at a university alumni event, when I saw her standing right in front of me. Seraphina Rowe, smiling, holding out her hand as if she’d never betrayed him at all. Adrian’s gaze was glacial. He didn’t take her hand. But I felt his grip on my wrist tighten, his entire arm trembling slightly. Only I could feel the tremor of the earthquake she caused in him. I kept my smile perfectly in place and patted the back of his hand. “Seraphina,” I said, my voice sweet but clear. “It’s been five years since you stole the Fidler family’s trade secrets and helped their rivals drive his company into the ground.” The words were an accusation for her, and a reminder for him. No matter what he did in private, in public, we had to maintain appearances. As if waking from a dream, Adrian wrapped an arm around my waist and steered me away from her. That night, a video of Seraphina’s interview went viral. The reporter asked why, after years of retirement, she had suddenly returned. Seraphina looked into the camera, a picture of tragic beauty, tears streaming down her face. “I was young and foolish,” she whispered. “I hurt the man who loved me. Now, all I want is to win him back.” Her gaze was intense, personal. “Adrian, can you ever forgive me?” A beautiful, disgraced movie star and a brilliant tech mogul. The story exploded. Adrian was furious. He immediately called his PR team, demanding they issue a statement clarifying that he had no connection to Seraphina. I’d never seen him so emotional, his face flushed with a rage that was almost theatrical. The PR head asked if they should sue Seraphina for defamation. I watched Adrian, knowing what he would say. Sure enough, his eyes flickered. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head. “I just don’t want to be associated with her,” he explained to me later. I smiled and nodded, mentally finishing his sentence: He was afraid a lawsuit would tarnish her precious career. What a pair we were. Two schemers, each with our own secrets, politely refusing to expose the other. When we first married, I had loved him to the point of madness. Now, I watched his life like it was a television drama. No one expected Seraphina to be so insane. On the Bay Bridge, she swerved her car directly into our path. I was in the passenger seat. If Adrian turned the wheel, we would be fine, but Seraphina’s car would smash through the guardrail and plunge into the sea. There would be no survivors. If he didn’t, we’d all be hurt. It was like he was in a trance. His eyes locked with hers across the rapidly closing distance. A twisted romance novel playing out in real-time. It cast me as the villain. Because I was the one screaming, slapping his arm, trying to wrench the steering wheel from his hands. The world exploded in a screech of metal and shattering glass. Dazed, Adrian stumbled out of our wrecked car and staggered towards hers, his hands shaking as he checked on her. Seraphina, a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth, leaned against his chest. She looked past him, met my eyes, and smirked. I win again, Thea, she mouthed. After what felt like an eternity, I managed to pull myself from the wreckage, a heavy, pulling pain low in my belly. “Adrian… help me…” I called out weakly. He snapped back to reality and rushed over, scooping me into his arms. My consciousness began to fade. In the wail of the ambulance siren, I vaguely heard him calling me his wife, over and over, begging me not to die. I felt the warmth of his tears on my forehead. So cliché, I thought, and scoffed. When I woke up, I was greeted with two pieces of news. First, I was two months pregnant. Second, the System informed me that Adrian’s comeback was 98% complete. I would be returning to my own world very soon. 2 Adrian came to the hospital every day. And every day, he’d get a phone call and rush out. I knew he was going to see Seraphina. But he was a master of deception. No matter how late it was, he always came back to my room, curling up on the small cot beside my bed, his arm draped over me as we slept. Once, as he was about to leave, he paused, his hand gently resting on my stomach. “Daddy will be right back,” he whispered. Suddenly, the sight of him was repulsive. I was done being polite. “Why don’t you take the fruit basket in my room to Miss Rowe?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Since you clearly can’t bear to be away from her.” The expression on his face shattered. He just stared at me, speechless. “Let’s not fight,” he finally managed. “The baby can hear us.” I slapped him. The sound was sharp in the quiet room. “Does our baby know his father almost got him killed for his old flame?” Adrian’s fists clenched at his sides. He looked at me, his eyes pleading. Just then, his phone rang. It was Seraphina. “Adrian,” she cooed, her voice a seductive purr. “My stitches tore open again. It hurts so much…” He could never resist her. He stood up and left without another word. I turned my face away, refusing to watch him go. A moment later, a text came in from Mr. Sterling, one of the company’s biggest clients. He wanted to discuss a new contract. Sterling was generous, but he had one flaw: he loved to seal deals over copious amounts of alcohol. The System warned me: if I went, I would get dangerously drunk. And I was pregnant. I couldn’t drink. My face was a cold mask. I knew the risks. Adrian had lectured me endlessly about them. But I didn’t care. “I’m leaving this world soon anyway,” I told the System. “This baby was never meant to be born.” It wasn’t a product of love; it was a byproduct of lust. It didn’t need my protection. Besides, landing Sterling’s contract would be a massive boost for the company. It would push Adrian’s career progress to 99%. I went to the dinner. I drank until everyone was satisfied, and I walked away with a signed contract. I threw up three times on the way home, my stomach burning like it was on fire. When I opened the front door, I heard Adrian’s voice, happier than I’d heard it in a long time. “I bought so many little outfits for the baby today, and a stroller! We need to start setting up the nursery…” Then he smelled the alcohol on me. His voice died in his throat. The pressure in the room dropped ten degrees. His face was grim as he carefully helped me to a chair. He took off my makeup, wiped my face with a warm cloth, forced a glass of hangover soup down my throat, and called the family doctor. “You know you can’t drink while you’re pregnant!” he finally roared, his hands gripping my jaw, forcing me to look at him. His eyes burned with fury, but underneath, they shimmered with a thin layer of tears. I patted his cheek and laughed. “I was out there securing your kingdom for you and Seraphina,” I slurred. “Why pretend to be so concerned? Deep down, you’re probably hoping I drink myself to death so you can finally give your precious old flame her rightful place, right?” He lunged forward and kissed me, trying to silence my vicious words. I shoved him away with all my strength. “Don’t touch me,” I spat. “You’re filthy. While I was entertaining clients for you, where were you?” His face went white. I pulled out my phone and opened a message Seraphina had sent me earlier that day. It was a photo of the two of them. She was in a hospital bed with an IV in her arm, and Adrian was asleep in the chair beside her. On his forehead was the clear imprint of a lipstick kiss. “It’s not what it looks like!” he said, his voice frantic. “I just… I hate her for what she did. I just wanted to see her brought low!” I closed my eyes and unleashed a torrent of insults, calling him pathetic, a fool, a dog returning to its own vomit—all the things I knew would cut him the deepest. After seven years, we knew each other’s weaknesses perfectly. He stormed out of the house. Less than thirty minutes later, Seraphina posted a new photo on social media. Two hands, intertwined. The caption read: “He’s back where he belongs.” 3 A few days later, it was my birthday. Knowing I would be leaving this world soon, I threw a large party, inviting all my closest friends. It was my farewell. But an uninvited guest appeared. Adrian. And he brought Seraphina with him. Around her neck was a stunning emerald necklace. I had seen it at an auction weeks ago. Adrian had bought it, supposedly as a birthday gift for me. He had given it to her instead. My friends, my real friends, shot me looks of pity and embarrassment. Adrian was humiliating me in front of everyone I cared about. He walked up to me, but before he could speak, his eyes were drawn to a framed calligraphy scroll in my friend’s hands. It was a piece by a famous artist she adored, one she had begged me for for years. I’d always refused. But now that I was leaving, I was giving away my entire collection to people who would appreciate it. Adrian’s brow furrowed. “That was your favorite. You looked at it every day. I pulled so many strings to get the artist to come out of retirement to make that for you!” I took a step back, my voice sharp. “What, you’re allowed to shower Miss Rowe with lavish gifts, but I’m not allowed to give my own things away?” He rubbed his temples, a weary look on his face. “Thea, you know that’s not what I mean.” He pulled me into a secluded corner, his eyes pleading. “Seraphina has been trying to get a meeting with Director Croft for months. He’s here tonight. She begged me to bring her. That’s all this is. Don’t overthink it.” His lips brushed my shoulder. “We’ve been married for years. Can’t we just be okay?” I shrugged him off, my smile bright and blinding. “Of course,” I chirped. “Director Croft and I are great friends. I’d be happy to make an introduction for Seraphina.” The relief in Adrian’s eyes was palpable. I remembered, five years ago, when I was sick in the hospital. Adrian was at his lowest point, unable to even afford my medical bills. One of his friends offered to help. Adrian glanced at me, his expression unreadable, and after a long silence, he refused. I suffered through the illness without proper medication, all for the sake of his pathetic pride. But for the girl he actually loved, he’d humble himself, scheme and plot to advance her career. The difference between being loved and not being loved was brutally clear. But I wasn’t about to play the gracious wife. If I returned his cruelty with kindness, what would be left for me? I walked over to Director Croft, a glass of champagne in my hand, and introduced Seraphina. “Her acting skills are phenomenal,” I said sweetly. “She played the part of the devoted lover so well she fooled Adrian completely. And she’s a master of illusion—poof!—she vanished the moment he was broke.” I continued, my voice dripping with false admiration. “Oh, and she can change her face in an instant. The way she sniffs out money and other people’s husbands… it’s like a dog spotting a bone.” Seraphina’s smile was frozen on her face. Adrian’s eyes were practically shooting sparks at me, but I didn’t care. I gestured grandly. “Director, if you have any supporting roles in your new film, you should consider Adrian, too. He’d be perfect for the part of a kicked dog.” Adrian’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. “Thea,” he hissed. “Stop dredging up the past! You’re obsessed with being the victim. Are you going to mock me with this for the rest of our lives?” He was tired of hearing it. He probably couldn’t stand to be reminded of his own humiliating climb back from the bottom, a journey I had witnessed every painful step of. I rolled my eyes and met Seraphina’s gaze, which was filled with unshed, manipulative tears. The long-suffering wife who had seen him at his worst versus the unobtainable first love. No wonder he was still obsessed with her. Adrian snatched the glass from my hand. “Apologize to Seraphina. Now.” I slapped him, hard, across the face, leaving a bright red mark on his cheek. “You deserve to be played for a fool until the day you die.” I walked away as my friends called me over to cut the birthday cake. We were all gathered in the main hall when, without warning, the massive crystal chandelier overhead began to creak and sway. Screams erupted. People scrambled for safety. I heard my name being called—”Thea, watch out!”—and felt hands pulling me back. But among the voices filled with concern, not one belonged to my husband. The moment the chandelier began to fall, he didn’t run towards me. He lunged in the opposite direction, shielding Seraphina with his own body. A shard of glass still managed to slice her cheek. Adrian stared at the wound, his reason suddenly snapping. He spun around and stormed towards me. “You planned this! You knew the chandelier was faulty! You were trying to kill her, weren’t you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385757”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A “Finding Mom” video went viral online. A five or six-year-old boy, standing in front of a backdrop of yellow earth, sang “Mommy, where did you go?” His eyes were filled with tears, a truly pitiful sight. Kind-hearted netizens helped in the search. Celebrities and influencers posted, “Come home, little boy’s mom! Your child misses you!” urging their followers to help. Finally, someone found the mother’s address and posted her information online. Just as everyone was cheering for the successful search, for the family reunion, for the child’s suffering to finally be over, my doorbell rang. The boy from the video, along with his father, his grandmother, and a crowd of reporters, appeared at my door. 1 The child was even thinner and smaller than in the video. When he saw me open the door, he rushed in wildly and clung to my leg. “Mommy! I finally found you! I looked for you for so long! I was so scared I’d never see you again!” He burst into tears, as if to pour out all the suffering of his search and his longing for his mother. “Mommy, I missed you so much! Grandma and Daddy missed you too! This is great, we’re finally all together again!” Not a single reporter on the scene was unmoved. I looked down at the live stream open on my phone. The topic was already number one on the hot search list. And in the camera’s lens, I stood, a cold and out-of-place figure in this supposedly heartwarming scene. The audience’s comments were a one-sided attack: [This isn’t what I imagined. Shouldn’t a mother and son cry and hug when they’re reunited?] [As a mom, I can’t stand seeing kids cry. The way he sang in that video broke my heart. Seeing his mom’s reaction makes it even worse.] [Chen Xiaohan, do you even have a heart? Your child is crying his eyes out, and you won’t even hug him!] [I say we dox Chen Xiaohan and ruin her reputation! Make it impossible for her to live in the city! Then she’ll have to go back with her kid, and the family can be whole again!] … A reporter shoved a microphone right in my face. “Ms. Chen! Xiao Bao is such a good, sweet boy. How could you have been so cruel as to abandon him back then?” “This video has been trending for days. You didn’t even come forward. Don’t you feel any guilt?” “This child has been kneeling and hugging you for so long, and you’re still completely cold! Ms. Chen, are you a mother? Are you even human?” One heavy accusation after another pushed the atmosphere, both on-site and in the live stream, to a fever pitch. Hundreds of thousands of viewers flooded the stream. I watched the numbers climb, my fists clenched tightly. It’s not enough. This still isn’t enough! With everyone staring at me, I let out a cold laugh. “What makes you so sure I’m this child’s mother?” “My personal information is all over the internet. What makes you think that I, a graduate from the Central University of Finance and Economics, would marry someone from a remote mountain village?” “Let’s take a step back. Do you have the child’s birth certificate? A marriage certificate? Do they have my name, Chen Xiaohan, written on them?” 2 The online comments paused for a moment. The reporters looked at each other, nonplussed. From the very beginning, they had only heard one side of the story—Xiao Bao’s family’s side. They had none of the documents I’d asked for. [Wait, I’m kind of convinced. If Chen Xiaohan gave birth to Xiao Bao, she would have had to be pregnant at 18, right? She would have still been in high school!] [Look at their faces! They look identical! If they’re not mother and son, I’ll eat my keyboard.] [She’ll say anything to disown her child. Look at poor Xiao Bao. He’s crushed.] [But they had a photo when the search started! It was Chen Xiaohan! She’s still trying to lie!] I sneered. “There are plenty of people in the world who look alike. Aren’t you afraid you found the wrong mom?” The reporter hesitated, turning to the boy. “Xiao Bao, is she your mommy?” “Could you be mistaken? Chen Xiaohan is only 24. You’re 5. If she had you in her senior year of high school, she couldn’t have possibly gotten into a top university like CUFE.” Xiao Bao immediately stood up and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m not wrong! This is my mommy!” He clung to me, refusing to let go. The old woman and Zhang Qiang, who had been silent until now, began their attack. The grandmother wailed for the camera. “Daughter-in-law! I know the city is tempting! But when you married into our family, we asked you, and you agreed!” “We spent money on a wedding banquet for you! We gave you gifts! How can you just disown us like this?” She took out an old phone and played a video. The video quality was poor, blurry, but you could still make out the smiling bride. It was me. Looking closer, you could see the bride’s stomach was slightly rounded. She was clearly a few months pregnant. The netizens exploded. [My God! I actually believed her for a second! These honest country people wouldn’t lie!] [Look at the kid! Xiao Bao is hysterical! His own mother disowning him… this is too tragic.] [Some people are just born without a human heart. You need to use extreme measures for people like her. Dox her! Now!] … The grandmother choked on a sob. “Xiaohan, Mom doesn’t blame you. Just come home. The whole family needs you.” “Look how much the boy misses you! How can you be so heartless?” “The corn at home is all ripe. I promise, you won’t go hungry!” Zhang Qiang, in his wheelchair, added painfully, “Wife, the baby and I can’t live without you. If there’s anything you don’t like about me, I’ll change! I’ll change everything!” “Just come back, and we’ll be the happiest family in the world!” I scoffed. “You people are ridiculous.” “That video is so blurry you can’t even see the person clearly, and you say it’s me?” “Do you really think playing the sympathy card will make everyone support you?” “I’ve already called the police. Harassing a resident… do you think the law doesn’t exist?” 3 At my words, their faces changed. The reporter said angrily, “We’re just trying to help a child find his family. How can you be so cruel?” The live stream viewers had now swelled to over a million. Even official government media accounts had entered the stream to watch. My heart pounded. I was waiting for the police. Zhang Qiang’s eyes darted around, and then he pointed at my chest and shouted. “You’re not going to give up, are you?” “You have a birthmark on your chest! A face can look similar, but can a birthmark?” “All you have to do is pull off her shirt, and you’ll know if she’s my wife!” The stream’s chat lit up with gifts and jeers. [Wow, she won’t do it. Confirmed: heartless mother.] [A disobedient woman needs to be beaten. Zhang Qiang is too soft on her.] [Someone needs to teach her a lesson for the child’s sake. She won’t even let her family in!] Zhang Qiang wheeled himself forward and, before I could react, yanked my collar open. He froze. “Where’s the birthmark?” The reporters were also stunned. A moment ago, they had been convinced. But now, the “proof” Zhang Qiang spoke of was nowhere to be found. “Mr. Zhang… are you sure you have the right person?” “Do you have any ID, any documents at all?” “Or just tell us the hospital where he was born! With this many people watching, the hospital could check its records!” I, too, looked at the three of them, curious to see how they’d answer. After all, I had searched for years and never found a birth certificate. The old woman trembled, then burst into tears. “What documents! Xiao Bao was born at home!” “We’re poor! We live in the mountains! The hospital is too far! We’d never make it in time!” “You city people talk so easily! Have you ever thought about us, the people in the gullies?” “We sold everything we had, spent all our money, just to come here and find you for Xiao Bao’s sake!” “How can you say such things? You’re breaking our hearts! You’re breaking the hearts of all the poor farmers struggling to get by!” The reporter was shamed into silence. Xiao Bao, hearing his grandma, screamed at the camera. “Mommy! I’ll save all my yummy food for you! Please come home!” “This family can’t be without you! I can’t be without you!” Zhang Qiang, seeing his son, also began to cry. “Xiaohan, I won’t force you. If you won’t admit it, fine. But can you at least let Xiao Bao stay here?” “He’s your son! Can you really stand to hear him crying for ‘mommy’ in his sleep?” “I can live without a wife, but Xiao Bao can’t live without a mother!” He kneeled before me. “Wife, if you don’t love me anymore, you don’t have to come back.” “Just let my mom and Xiao Bao stay. I’ll go. I won’t be a burden. But the child is innocent!” The live stream was now at ten million viewers. The reporter, excited, pushed me to agree. “Ms. Chen, Mr. Zhang has compromised this much! Are you still going to deny it?” “Look at the comments! This is the ending everyone wants!” At that moment, my phone rang. It was my boss. “Chen Xiaohan, that ‘finding mom’ story is huge. Our clients are calling me about it.” “Admit you’re the mother. Now. Spin this into a heartwarming story.” “Your husband said you don’t even have to go back. Just keep the kid.” “The stream has ten million viewers! Do it! It’s great PR for the company!” “Your promotion or your termination depends on what you do next.” He hung up. I glanced at the viewer count, then at the people in front of me. Zhang Qiang, hopeful. The grandmother, weeping. Xiao Bao, who whispered, his voice only for me, “Mommy, you have to be good. Daddy breaks the legs of people who aren’t good.” I saw the police officers who had just arrived. I pinched the flesh of Xiao Bao’s arm, hard, and spoke calmly. “No marriage certificate. No birth certificate. They didn’t know the mother’s address, and at first, they didn’t even know her name. Doesn’t that seem strange?” “Am I really so stupid that I would fly 5 hours away to a remote village to get married while I was in high school?” “Or maybe… behind this ‘search for mom’… is a much more cruel truth?” “I am not his mother. His mother is already dead!” 4 The moment I finished, Xiao Bao shrieked in pain. He finally let go of me and, just like his father, began to kowtow on the floor. “Mommy, don’t curse yourself! Don’t say you’re dead!” “If you don’t want us, we’ll go! Just don’t curse yourself!” Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound of his small forehead hitting the floor echoed in everyone’s hearts. A woman had arrived with the police—Aunty Wang, from the neighborhood committee. She knew my situation better than anyone. But now, she rushed forward, pulling Xiao Bao up, her face a mask of sympathy. “Good boy, don’t cry. You tell Aunty what you need. I’m from the committee, I’ll help you.” She turned to me. “Xiaohan! Can’t you just talk to them? Why are you bullying a small child?” “I saw the live stream! They have photos! The boy is a carbon copy of you! And you’re still hung up on ‘paperwork’? What are you trying to prove? That you’re an educated intellectual and they’re illiterate?” “They’re simple country folk! They don’t understand your city ways! All they know is that this child wants his mother!” An officer gently tried to calm her down. Aunty Wang, displeased, quieted down but continued to hug Xiao Bao, glaring at me. This, I supposed, was human nature. Everyone sympathizes with the weak—the harmless child, the disabled man, the old woman. Aunty Wang’s words sent the chat into another frenzy. [I’m so disappointed. I thought there was a twist. But the neighborhood committee is on the family’s side. It’s confirmed. She’s the mom.] [That poor boy. His mother is a monster. I hope she gets hit by a car!] [I’ve seen it all today. Chen Xiaohan’s skin is thicker than a city wall! When she’s cornered, she curses herself to death. She’s ruthless!] … The officer, “Officer Li,” sighed. “Ms. Chen, you called us. But this situation has a massive public profile. We need you to come to the station to cooperate with our investigation.” “Of course, if what you’re saying is true, we will also issue a formal warning to those spreading rumors.” Just then, new “evidence” appeared online. People from the village had posted a “high-definition” photo of the mother. [I was the one who delivered Xiao Bao. This photo was taken right after he was born. Take a look. Is this Chen Xiaohan or not?] The woman in the photo was disheveled, holding a baby. It was much clearer than the wedding video. Aside from the fatigue and messy clothes, she looked identical to me. [When Zhang Qiang was sick, Chen Xiaohan took care of him. I filmed it, I was so moved. I can’t believe she’s acting like this now.] A short video played, showing the woman from the photo, holding the baby, dutifully caring for a man in a hospital bed. More and more “villagers” posted photos, swearing I had lived there, that I was a hardworking wife, and that this new “city” version of me was a complete, monstrous change. Aunty Wang saw this and puffed up with self-righteousness, blocking the police officers. “Officer Li, don’t stop me. I am here representing this community and all good-hearted people!” “I’ve seen too many women like Chen Xiaohan. Gold-digging, heartless, disgusting!” “Don’t tell me you weren’t willing! With Zhang Qiang’s physical condition, how could you have gotten pregnant if you weren’t willing?” “You’re an irresponsible animal! You abandon your own child! You’re worse than scum!” “Officer Li, the facts are clear! Taking her to the station will just be a slap on the wrist! It won’t work on people like her!” “This kind of person needs to be taught a lesson… by society!” The crowd was surging, angry. Officer Li couldn’t control the scene and called for backup. Xiao Bao, his eyes red and swollen, stood in front of the crowd. “Don’t blame my mommy! It must be because I’m a bad boy that she doesn’t want me!” “Mommy, I’ll be good! I’ll cook and wash clothes! I’ll listen to you! Please don’t disown me!” He was so “understanding” it was heartbreaking. My own neighbors started trying to convince me. Xiao Bao glanced back at me, a flash of triumph in his teary eyes. He mouthed the words silently: “Mommy. This is the price for not obeying.” I couldn’t breathe. So this is what it felt like to be completely alone. Even the police were neutralized. Everyone was just waiting for me to give in. Then, a shout from the crowd: “Chen Xiaohan’s parents are here!” Two gray-haired, elderly people pushed through. My father marched up to me and slapped me across the face. “You disgrace! Your own son is here, and you still deny him?” “Are you trying to ruin this family’s reputation?” I looked at my furious parents, and I smiled. Good. Now everyone was finally here.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385773”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the third year of our relationship, Liam cheated. I watched the whole thing, calmly, on a video sent from his “best friend.” Everyone thought I loved him. They thought that even after his betrayal, I’d be too weak to leave. They don’t know that I’m not holding on to him. I’m using him as bait. I’m holding on to attract the attention of his older brother, Marcus. Marcus Walker has a habit of taking everything Liam owns. Especially the women Liam loves. 1 Liam Walker is wild. He burns through girlfriends, with his previous record being one month. With me, he lasted three years. His friends all said they’d never seen him so committed. In his orbit, only two women ever stick around. Me. And his “female bro,” Chloe. Liam has a short attention span and a wide social circle. I hate networking. My presence at his parties was always a wet blanket. So, he started taking Chloe everywhere. “She knows how to have fun,” he’d say. The subtext was clear. Chloe has been Liam’s shadow since boarding school. He swears he “sees her as a brother.” She’s loud, she can party, and she never lets the energy die. Because she knows how to “have fun,” they eventually had “fun” in his bed. 2 I’m two years older than Liam. I was his T.A. in a graduate-level seminar he was only taking for an “easy A.” He fell for me instantly and launched a full-scale campaign. He was a classic golden-boy heir: relentless, charming, and full of a manic energy I mistook for passion. Eventually, I fell for him. We had a routine: study sessions, dinners, movies, planning a future. Then, Chloe reappeared. She’d dropped out of college and crashed in New York, landing right in Liam’s guest room. Our library dates turned into his “I’ll be right back,” which turned into a no-show. I knew he was a playboy taming himself for me. Chloe was the one who untied his leash. My love for him evaporated the moment she “accidentally” sent me that video two weeks ago. A 10-second clip of them in bed. His face, her face. Unmistakable. She recalled it instantly. “OMG, wrong chat!!!” she texted. I pretended I never saw it. From that day on, I buried my disgust and became the perfect, understanding girlfriend. I let Chloe’s petty provocations slide off me. Liam wanted a sweet, supportive, low-drama partner? I could play that. As long as I didn’t break up with him, I was his official, family-approved girlfriend. That meant access to his world. Access to the resources I needed. Chloe could be the dirty little secret he kept in his guest room. On New Year’s Eve, Liam went out. Chloe was with him. She spent the night “accidentally” sending me blurry, intimate photos from the party. A total clown show. Around midnight, I put on my “devoted girlfriend” mask and texted Liam. “Hey, is the party winding down? I can come pick you up.” It took him half an hour to respond. “Sorry babe, they keep pouring me drinks. Just saw this. We’re wrapping up.” He sent a location pin and Venmo’d me $100. “Get a car. It’s freezing out.” I took the money. “Okay.” I got to the club. They weren’t out. It was 5°F. It really was freezing. I paid an Uber driver $40 to let me just sit in his car at the curb. After thirty minutes, I saw Liam’s friends stumbling out. Show time. I paid the driver, got out, and made a show of rubbing my hands together and shivering. Chloe came out first. She saw me, her eyes widened, and she immediately looked away, pretending not to notice. She waited for Liam, then grabbed his arm, standing on her toes to whisper something in his ear. Whatever she said made him laugh. He playfully pinched her nose. They looked every bit the couple. “Liam,” I called out. He turned, saw me, and instantly ripped his arm away from Chloe. He ran over. Chloe was left standing alone, her fists clenched. 3 “Ava! How long have you been here? Why didn’t you go inside?” “Oh, not long,” I lied. “Maybe forty minutes?” “You’ve been standing here?” He looked horrified. “Mhm. It’s not that cold.” I let out a perfectly timed sneeze. He immediately unzipped his massive puffer jacket and wrapped me inside it, pulling me against his chest. “You should have texted me! Why would you wait out here?” “I didn’t want to bother you,” I murmured into his chest. “You were having fun with your friends. You deserved a night off.” He looked at me, his eyes shining with guilt. “Ava, you’re too good to me.” Just then, Chloe walked over, grabbing Liam’s other arm. “Well, damn, Walker,” she said, her voice intentionally loud. “Who’s this? You’ve got women lining up to drive you home?” “What are you talking about? This is Ava,” Liam said, annoyed. “Oh, Ava! Sorry! I thought you were another one of Liam’s side-pieces.” She playfully bumped his shoulder. Liam shoved her. “Shut up, Chloe.” I took off my mask. “It’s okay.” My lack of reaction clearly pissed her off. She tried again. “Hey, Liam,” she said, “don’t forget our bet. You won this round, but I will be kissing you back.” I couldn’t let that slide. It would be out of character. “Kissing him back? What does that mean?” I looked at Liam. He panicked. “Chloe, what the hell are you saying? It was just a game!” “Relax,” Chloe said, turning to me. “You’re so understanding, Ava. I’m sure you won’t get the wrong idea.” “So, what does it mean?” I pressed. Chloe got evasive. “God, it was nothing. Liam and I are just… bros. You know?” Liam was furious. “Chloe, stop talking! There’s nothing to talk about!” She ignored him, grabbing my arm. “Ava, we’ve been best friends forever. You know our vibe. Don’t be so paranoid.” My face went cold. “I’m not being paranoid, Chloe. If it’s nothing, just say what it was. Being this secretive just makes it look like you’re hiding something.” She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you girls are all the same. So uptight.” “Are you not a girl, Chloe?” She scoffed. “Not like you.” She hooked her arm through Liam’s again. “I’m one of his bros.” Liam didn’t respond to her. He grabbed my shoulders, desperate. “Ava, I swear to God, we’re just friends. I don’t even see her as a woman.” “I believe you,” I said, cutting him off. I took his hand. “You and Chloe have known each other forever. If something was going to happen, it would have happened by now, right, Liam?” His eyes darted away for a millisecond. “Right. Nothing.” I held his gaze. “And you wouldn’t lie to me. Would you?” His eyes were wet with guilt. He swore he’d never lie. He swore on his life. Good. I hope he loses it. 4 I’d never cared about Liam’s family, just that he was rich. After the video, I ran a full background check. Liam was the baby, the “golden child.” He had two older sisters, both married off. And one older brother. Marcus. The illegitimate one. Marcus was the family pariah, treated like dirt, until the patriarch, Charles Walker, had a stroke five years ago. Marcus seized control of Walker Industries in a brutal, overnight coup. He is the real power. He spends a fortune cleaning up Liam’s messes and indulging his every whim, keeping him a spoiled, useless brat. It looks like love. But I know it’s a long-con. I can’t be tied to a useless puppet. The Walker name, the Walker resources… that is my ladder. And Liam is the first rung. I just need a way to get to Marcus. Liam was a perfect, guilty boyfriend for weeks. He even sat in the library with me, bored out of his mind. Chloe’s texts and calls made his phone vibrate off the table. He looked at me, sheepishly. “I’ll turn it off.” As if he didn’t want me to see how “in-demand” he was. I played the part. “Oh, don’t. It might be an emergency. You should take it.” When he stepped out, Chloe texted me. “Hey, Ava. K-BBQ tonight? My treat.” I didn’t reply. When Liam came back, I asked, “Are you free tonight? I’m craving K-BBQ.” He flinched. “Ah, shit. I have a team dinner. I can’t.” I knew it. Chloe was setting a trap. And I was walking right into it. This was my chance. 5 I got to the restaurant. Chloe greeted me, all smiles, and led me to a private room. Then she led Liam’s friends to the room next to mine. “Ava, you know how these guys get,” she said sweetly. “They’re animals. I’ll just put you here where it’s quiet. You’ll be more comfortable.” The rooms were separated by a paper-thin divider. I could hear every word. “I believe you,” I said, sitting down. As she turned to leave, she pulled down the collar of her sweater, flashing a necklace. A very specific, custom-designed diamond solitaire. Liam had given me an identical one. “Oh, this?” she said, “Liam’s so bad at gifts. He asked me to pick something out for you, and I loved it so much, he just bought me one too. You don’t mind, right? We’re bros.” “Why would I mind?” I said, not even looking up from the menu. “It’s his money. He can buy as many as he wants.” Her face tightened. “Right. I guess some women will put up with anything for a blank check.” “Exactly,” I said, finally looking at her. “And you’re different. You’re his bro. He doesn’t even see you as a woman. You’re the one person I never have to worry about.” Her smile was a strained, ugly grimace.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385789”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The last male Phoenix had fallen to ash and memory, leaving the females of our kind to drink from the River of Genesis to continue our lineage. And I, Elara, the one with the greatest potential to birth a Progenitor Phoenix of old, turned my back on the river. Before the disbelieving eyes of my entire clan, I chose instead to leap into the Pyre Abyss. In my last life, I had poured my very soul, every last drop of my essence, into birthing the most noble of all fledglings—a Golden Phoenix. But on the Phoenix Dais, in my moment of triumph, he had shredded through my chest with a single claw, then fluttered into my stepsister’s arms, chirping “Mama” with sickening affection. My stepsister, Lyra, became the Phoenix Matriarch, revered by all and ascending to greatness. I was branded a child-thief, my feathers brutally torn from my body before I was cast into the Pyre Abyss to be incinerated in the living flames. Even as I burned, a single question haunted me: The Golden Phoenix was mine. He was born of my blood and my pain. Why did he call my stepsister his mother? Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the day I was meant to drink from the River of Genesis. … 1 The waters of the River of Genesis swirled before me, a silver ribbon of life. I was so lost in the phantom agony of plucked feathers and searing flames that I didn’t even hear my stepsister, Lyra, until she called my name for the third time. “Elara, your essence is so powerful! I can’t even imagine what kind of phoenix you’ll birth after drinking from the river. I bet… I bet it will be the Golden Phoenix, the most noble of all the ancients!” Looking at Lyra’s deceptively sweet smile, a chill snaked down my spine, cold as graveyard dust. The memories were too raw: being robbed of my child, scorned as a thief by my own kind, the searing pain of my wings being torn apart before the fire consumed me. I wouldn’t let it happen again. Without a word, I stood and turned to leave. If drinking from that river meant birthing the child who would betray me, then I would rather remain barren forever. Lyra’s smile vanished. She darted in front of me, her voice rising in feigned alarm. “Matriarch, come quickly! Look at my sister! What’s wrong? Why is she leaving?” The Matriarch appeared, blocking my path. Her smile was warm, motherly, but it never reached the frost in her eyes. “Now, now, Elara, my sweet. This is no time for tantrums. Every phoenix must drink from the river to bear a child. It is the law of our clan. To defy it is to invite a curse upon us all.” The current Matriarch of the Phoenix clan was none other than Lyra’s mother—my stepmother, Morwenna. My own mother, the radiant Prismatic Phoenix, was the previous Matriarch. She had… fallen, they said, strayed into darkness shortly after my birth, leaving me to be raised by Morwenna. After my father’s passing, the few remaining male phoenixes withered away one by one, until none were left. The law was absolute. Every female had sworn a blood oath: for the future of our people, we would bear children from the river, no matter our own strength. And only the one who birthed the most powerful fledgling would become the next Matriarch. My stepsister’s bloodline was diluted, her essence weak. She could drink the entire River of Genesis dry and never produce a phoenix of any true power. But I was different. My blood was pure, my generative essence the strongest in the entire clan. In my previous life, I had been desperate to create the most magnificent phoenix imaginable, to become Matriarch and repay Morwenna for her years of kindness. Lyra and I drank from the river at the same time, conceived at the same time, and laid our eggs at the same time. My stepmother gave me a secret tome, an ancient phoenix text. It spoke of a ritual: nourish the egg with your own heart’s blood, sustain it with a forbidden art, and a Golden Phoenix shall be born. I never questioned it. I did as the book commanded, pouring my essence and my blood into the egg until I was a hollow shell of myself. After ten days of excruciating agony, a crack appeared, and from it emerged the rarest of creatures: a Golden Phoenix. Dragging my exhausted body to the Phoenix Dais, I cradled the tiny phoenix, my heart swelling with pride. I was moments away from being named the new Matriarch. But in a flash of unimaginable betrayal, while my guard was completely down, the fledgling in my arms lashed out. Its razor-sharp talons shredded through my chest, and with an arrogant cry, it flew directly into Lyra’s embrace, chirping “Mama.” A fledgling instinctively bonds with its birth mother. No one would ever doubt the child was Lyra’s. Lyra stroked the Golden Phoenix’s head, her eyes filled with false pity as she looked at me. “Sister, how could you be so cruel? To steal my egg and switch it with your own… I want to forgive you, I truly do. But as the new Matriarch, I must uphold our laws. You must be punished.” Her words painted her as a selfless leader and me as a hideous monster. The clan’s disgust was a palpable wave that crashed over me. They swarmed the dais, tearing my feathers out with their bare hands. I lay there, a bleeding, broken thing, drowning in their contempt. “Traitor! After all the Matriarch did for her, she repays her by stealing another’s child! Shameless!” “Whoever said Elara was the powerful one was blind! Lyra birthed a Golden Phoenix! Her generative power is clearly stronger. Elara was just jealous and stole it, just as vile as her mother who fell to darkness. She should be cast out of the Aerie!” On the day of Lyra’s ascension, I was dragged from our home. As I struggled to my feet, someone shoved me from behind, sending me plummeting into the Pyre Abyss to burn. Even in death, I couldn’t understand how Lyra had done it. How had she stolen my child from me? Now, watching the two of them blocking my path, their faces etched with a desperate urgency, a plan began to form in the ashes of my old life. “I just feel… unwell,” I murmured, feigning weakness. “I want to rest. I’ll come back another time.” My stepmother’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Then I’ll have Lyra accompany you. You can return together next time.” I frowned. There were many other phoenixes drinking from the river, and they had all birthed perfectly normal fledglings. The water itself was pure, constantly flowing. The problem wasn’t the river. Could it be the timing? Was I forbidden from drinking at the same time as Lyra? Morwenna had been Matriarch for centuries; she knew secrets I couldn’t fathom. Perhaps Lyra and I drinking together broke some ancient taboo. “No, it’s alright,” I said, forcing a small smile. “I think I’m feeling better now.” Lyra and I walked to the riverbank. I watched as she took a deep drink. Then, shielding my face with my sleeve, I pretended to drink, but instead secretly funneled a small amount of the water into a hidden vial. I would drink it later, alone. The heavens had granted me a second chance. This time, I would not miss a single detail. 2 Back in my chambers, my stepmother arrived, just as she had before. She brought a collection of rare spiritual herbs and that same secret tome on incubation. I smiled and accepted them, but the moment I was alone, I summoned a brazier and tossed both the herbs and the book into the flames, watching them curl into ash. I once believed Morwenna was the kindest soul alive. She had always treated me better than her own daughter. From childhood, the rarest treasures and most potent herbs were always given to me first. When Lyra would gaze at them with envious eyes and I, in my love for her, offered to share, Morwenna would fly into a rage, scolding Lyra for her greed. Everyone praised her selflessness. Everyone trusted her. And I… I had truly loved her as my own mother. When she was injured gathering herbs, I, a mere child, had thrown myself in harm’s way to protect her. I treated Lyra like my own blood, depleting my own essence time and again to help her advance her meager powers. Only now, after the betrayal, did I see the truth. Everything she did was a carefully constructed stage for Lyra’s ascent. To them, I was nothing but a vessel. A tool for birthing a god. So, even though I didn’t yet understand the full extent of their treachery, I knew that book was poison. I drank the water from the River of Genesis and waited. The strange, wondrous feeling of life coalescing within me returned. I felt the water’s warmth settle deep in my belly, glowing with a soft white light. This time, I didn’t pour in my own essence. I didn’t take a single herb to fortify the pregnancy. I released my obsession with birthing a Golden Phoenix. Soon, my belly swelled, and I laid a single, perfectly white egg. I didn’t rush to incubate it. Instead, under the cloak of night, I slipped into the forbidden grounds of the clan. This was where my mother had once lived. After she “fell to darkness,” the clan had deemed it a place of ill omen, barring anyone from entering. My memories of her were a complete blank. Morwenna had always told me my mother was a restless beauty who abandoned me, her own child, to run away with a demon lord. My father had always been distant. Only Morwenna had showered me with unconditional love. For years, I had suppressed any thought of my real mother, convincing myself Morwenna was all I needed. But my death told me that Morwenna’s stories were lies. My mother’s chambers were sparse, but every item left behind was a testament to her love for me. My childhood toys, my favorite snacks, even the tiny nest I had slept in as a fledgling. My eyes burned with unshed tears. How could she not have loved me? There had to be more to the story. Amidst a pile of ancient scrolls, I found it: her personal manuscript on incubation. Following my mother’s true instructions, I began the hatching process. And from the shell emerged not a golden, but a Prismatic Phoenix! A Prismatic Phoenix was even rarer than a golden one. And this fledgling… its essence was incredibly strong. It was destined for greatness. My own mother had been a Prismatic Phoenix, a strain known for their gentle, intelligent nature. Compared to the arrogance of a Golden Phoenix, this would be a child who loved me. Joy, pure and triumphant, surged through me. All my efforts had paid off. This child was mine, and mine alone. The Matriarch’s seat would finally be mine! Clutching the fledgling, its eyes still sealed, I headed for the Phoenix Dais. But along the way, I heard the whispers of the clan. “Did you hear? Someone stole Lyra’s fledgling!” My blood ran cold. “Lyra? Her bloodline is weak, her power pathetic. What kind of phoenix could she possibly produce that’s worth stealing? If anyone’s child was a target, it would be Elara’s. With her power, she might actually birth a Golden Phoenix!” “And you know what Lyra is claiming? She’s telling everyone she hatched a Prismatic Phoenix! Can you believe the nerve? As if! Those are even rarer than the golden ones!” An icy dread gripped my heart. Lyra’s egg had also produced a Prismatic Phoenix? This was no coincidence. The gossiping phoenixes saw me and rushed over, their eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Elara! Has your egg hatched yet? What kind of phoenix is it?” Just then, I saw Morwenna and Lyra searching frantically nearby. When Morwenna’s eyes landed on me, they lit up with a terrifying recognition. 3 I didn’t answer anyone. I turned and fled, sprinting back to my chambers and slamming the door shut. My heart hammered against my ribs. I had to know. Would this child know me as its mother? I drew a single drop of my heart’s blood and let it fall onto the fledgling’s sealed eyes. It blinked them open. And stared at me with eyes as empty and cold as a winter sky. A voice called from outside my door. It was Lyra. “Elara, why did you run off like that? Have you seen my baby? I hatched a little Prismatic Phoenix, you see. I was thinking… maybe it wandered over to you?” At the sound of Lyra’s voice, the fledgling in my arms stirred. It heard its mother’s call. It arched its neck, preparing to cry out. My hand clamped around its throat. Tears streamed down my face as I snuffed out its life force with a wave of my own essence. I’m sorry, I thought, my heart breaking. But I cannot let the past repeat itself. If I am destined only to birth the knife that will be plunged into my own heart, then it is better you were never born at all. The door burst open. Morwenna and Lyra stood there, their faces masks of fury. “Elara, where is the phoenix you hatched? Where is it?” I wiped my tears away, my expression turning to stone. I shook my head. “It was a failure. The egg was empty.” Morwenna and Lyra exchanged a look, their disappointment a palpable thing. Suddenly, Lyra changed her tune. “Oh, I must have been mistaken. I failed too. There was no Prismatic Phoenix. I was just… so anxious, I must have imagined it. It’s alright, sister. We’ll just go to the River of Genesis again.” Once more to the river. Once more, I brought the water back in secret. I wracked my brain, trying to find the flaw in their plan. If it wasn’t the water, and it wasn’t the incubation method… then the problem had to be with me. I gathered everything I had ever used—my clothes, my tools, my jewelry—and sealed them all away with a powerful enchantment. I meticulously checked my own body against my mother’s notes, searching for any abnormality, but found nothing. I looked around the room I had lived in for centuries. It was no longer safe. I locked the door, and that night, I took my new, unlaid egg and hid myself away in my mother’s forbidden chambers. Her incubation manuscript contained other techniques, including a dangerous ritual that involved channeling the raw power of wind, rain, thunder, and snow into the egg. The fledgling that emerged would be infused with one of these elemental attributes. No one, not even with the most powerful scrying magic, could possibly guess what lay inside. And I would hatch it in front of the entire clan. After days of channeling raw elemental power, I walked toward the Phoenix Dais, cradling an egg that shimmered with captured lightning and swirling frost. The Aerie was buzzing with excitement. “Did you hear? That failure Lyra is going to hatch her egg in public today. What a joke.” A familiar, hopeless despair washed over me. Why? Why was Lyra doing the same thing as me, again? What was the point of all my effort? Why couldn’t I escape the chains of my past life? I stood at the foot of the dais, a bitter smile on my lips. Morwenna and Lyra sat enthroned at the top. Before them was an egg, shrouded by a red cloth. As long as it remained covered, no one could see what it truly was. The closer I got to the dais, the more the egg in my hands thrashed, a stark contrast to its calm when we were alone. Did it already sense that Lyra was its true mother? And then, the horrifying truth hit me like a physical blow. I was wrong. Utterly, completely, devastatingly wrong. It didn’t matter what kind of phoenix I hatched. It never mattered. No matter what I created, Lyra could somehow claim it as her own. The egg under that cloth could be a common stone, but once my fledgling flew to her and called her “Mama,” she could simply claim I had switched them. Lyra looked down at me from the dais, and her lips curled into the exact same triumphant smile she had worn in my past life. “Well, well, sister Elara. What a beautiful egg you have there. Weren’t you planning on hatching it for all to see? What a coincidence, so was I. You’re the elder sister. Why don’t you go first?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385805”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It started as a freak accident—a glitch in the matrix, or maybe just a really weird app update. Somehow, I was FaceTiming with myself from ten years in the future. Excitement bubbling over, I asked the big question: “So, who do we end up with?” Future Me went silent for a beat. Then, he dropped the name of my mortal enemy. I burst out laughing. “Man, I didn’t know I’d still be this sarcastic in my late twenties. Good one.” But before the laugh could fade, a figure walked into the frame on his end. “Babe, who are you talking to?” I stared at the screen. The woman was older, more glamorous, but unmistakable. It was my high school nemesis. I froze, effectively turning into a statue. 1. The visual was surreal. I was locking eyes with Chloe. The Chloe. She was wearing silk pajamas, leaning casually against Future Me’s shoulder. After about sixty seconds of brain-dead silence, I let out a screech that probably shattered windows. Chloe raised an eyebrow, looking amused by my existence. Then, just to mess with me, she kissed Future Me on the cheek and shot the camera a smug, challenging look. My world was ending. Seeing my mental breakdown, Future Me jumped in for damage control. He started rattling off a list of Chloe’s “good qualities” to explain how on earth we got married. It was horrifying. It was like watching a body snatcher inhabit my future self. After a few minutes of him praising her, I couldn’t take it anymore. “You are a disappointment,” I snapped. “You know how much I can’t stand her. I literally just graduated high school, celebrating my freedom from her existence, and you’re telling me I marry her in a decade? That’s not a future; that’s a diagnosis.” Maybe he’d been happy for so long he forgot the trenches. Future Me looked genuinely confused until my outburst reminded him that currently, Chloe and I were like oil and water. If we were in the same room, eyes were rolling. He scratched his head, looking awkward. Chloe, standing next to him, smirked. “Hate to break it to you,” she drawled, “but we go to the same college in the fall.” She looked so triumphant. It took everything in me not to punch my monitor. Ten years later, and she was still the same—one expression from her could send my blood pressure through the roof. I glared. She beamed. Seeing my will to live fading, Future Me shoved Chloe out of the frame and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Look, we do end up together, but you have other flings before that.” “Like who?” I perked up. He thought for a second. “Remember that cheerleader captain who helped you with registration? The blonde? You guys date for a bit. It’s great.” We started excitedly discussing my upcoming love life, completely forgetting the woman standing behind him. You know, his wife. It wasn’t until I saw Chloe’s face—a mix of amusement and icy rage—that I realized we messed up. “Uh…” I whispered to Future Me. “You might want to check your six.” He turned around, confused, and met the gaze of a very unamused wife. His smile died instantly. Panic set in. “Actually,” he stammered, pivoting hard, “she was totally mid. And she ghosted me. Really, she couldn’t compare to you, honey.” Watching myself lie was painful. I realized now that my poker face was trash. Chloe scoffed. She snatched the phone from his hand. “We’re done chatting. Future You and I need to have a little talk.” She hung up. But right before the screen went black, I saw her sit on his lap. I stared at the reflection in my dark screen, my brain short-circuiting with intrusive thoughts. I was going insane. 2. Thanks to Future Me, I didn’t sleep a wink. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Chloe. The worst part? We had a post-grad hang at a Karaoke spot the next day. And obviously, Chloe was going to be there. I psyched myself up and walked into the private room. The sound of off-key singing blasted out. When I opened the door, the music cut. Everyone turned to look at me. Then, in perfect synchronization, they turned to look at Chloe. Because our rivalry was legendary, we were basically a package deal in everyone’s minds. The room was split between people waiting for a fight, people holding back laughter, and the weirdos who secretly “shipped” us. Usually, I ignored it. I hated Chloe. It was simple. Until last night, when I found out my nemesis becomes my wife. The couches were packed. The only empty spot was—you guessed it—right next to Chloe. I sighed, accepted my fate, and sat down. Chloe glanced at me. She noticed the dark circles under my eyes and frowned slightly before masking it with a tease. “Rough night? Or were you just tossing and turning dreaming about me?” Normally, I’d tell her to get over herself. Unfortunately, she was technically right. I looked away, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. “You’re delusional,” I muttered, grabbing a Coke to cool down. Chloe paused, dropping the sarcasm. She stared at me, realizing something was off. I avoided eye contact like it was a sport. The others didn’t notice the weird vibe and dragged Chloe up to sing. The moment she stood up, I exhaled. But my peace lasted two seconds. My phone buzzed. Future Me: Calculated the time zones. You’re at Karaoke right now, yeah? Future Me: Fun fact: The song she’s about to sing? It’s for you. My heart started hammering against my ribs. The phone felt radioactive in my hand. I looked up instinctively and locked eyes with Chloe. On the screen, the title popped up. “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. The room erupted in whistles and cheers. Chloe kept looking at me as the intro played. 3. I hate to admit it, but Chloe can sing. The room faded away. Maybe it was the text messages messing with my head, but I swear I could feel the weight of her gaze. In the dim light, there was something in her eyes I’d never let myself see before. When she finished, everyone clapped. Some brave soul asked if she was singing it for anyone specific. She didn’t deny it. She didn’t confirm it. She just smiled. She sat back down next to me, looking jittery. Her hands were clenched in her lap. My phone buzzed again. Future Me: She thinks singing that will make you realize she has a crush on you. Spoiler: You didn’t get it. You sat there like a lump. Future Me: She tried to work up the nerve to ask you if you liked the song all night but chickened out. Future Me: Look at her hands. She’s literally shaking. I glanced sideways. Sure enough, her hands were trembling. The corner of my mouth twitched up. I leaned in close, whispering with a teasing lilt, “Chloe, why are you shaking?” Her head snapped toward me. She scooted away reflexively. But when she saw the mischief in my eyes, she realized I was messing with her. A flash of disappointment crossed her face before she put her armor back on. “What are you looking at? It’s cold in here,” she snapped. “I’m freezing.” She was so defensive. Usually, I’d be mentally roasting her, but right now? It was kind of cute. I noticed the tips of her ears were bright red. I felt like I had discovered a new continent. I finally had the upper hand. I grinned at her. ” careful, Chloe. People might think you have a crush on me.” I watched her face crumble. Her eyes went wide, her ears turned scarlet, and her fingers twitched. “As if!” she shouted, way too loud. Realizing she was making a scene, she dialed it back, looking away. “You wish.” I almost laughed out loud. I immediately texted Future Me. Me: I went for it. Asked if she had a crush on me. Future Me: No way. What did she say?? Me: She denied it. Aggressively. Future Me sent a face-palm emoji. I felt the cringe transcending time and space. Minutes passed, and Chloe was still malfunctioning. She was fidgeting, refusing to look at me. I snapped a sneaky picture and sent it to the future. A moment later, I got a voice note. I meant to play it quietly, but my thumb slipped. I hit speaker. Future Chloe’s voice boomed through the Karaoke room. “God, was I really that cringe? I was so emotionally constipated.” EVERYONE turned to look at me. Chloe froze, staring right at my phone. I panicked, tried to stop it, and accidentally hit the next voice note. “I’m surprised I ever got a husband acting like that. Look at me, wanting to say something but acting like a brat.” Dude. Future Chloe was ruthless. She was roasting her younger self into oblivion. I fumbled with the phone and finally killed the volume. The room was silent. “Uh,” I stammered. “My cousin. She was telling me a story about… her friend. Who waited ten years to tell a guy she liked him because she was too stubborn.” It wasn’t subtle. It was a neon sign. Chloe whipped her head around, staring at the wall. The others bought it and went back to fighting over the mic. But Chloe went quiet. She was thinking. Thirty minutes later, she leaned over. “So?” she whispered. “What happened?” “What happened with who?” “Your cousin’s friend. Did she get the guy?” “Of course… not,” I said. “My cousin’s friend was too proud. Kind of like you. She spent all her time arguing with him instead of being nice. Why would he like her back?” I was being petty. Even knowing we get married, I still wanted to mess with her. Chloe’s face fell. I sighed, feigning wisdom. “Life’s short. You gotta shoot your shot. Otherwise, you miss the bus.” Chloe bit her lip. She looked up at me, sudden and intense. “I like you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385821”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel