Category: English

The bank said my house was being foreclosed. I froze for a full three seconds. “What house?” “The property under your name, the mortgage is three months overdue. Please resolve this immediately.” I glanced at my phone. It was the 15th. The 15th of every month, an auto-draft took the payment for the mortgage—$3,500. Eight years. Not a single missed payment. “You must have the wrong person.” “Ma’am, we do not make mistakes. Your property was used to secure a home equity loan last March, for $1.5 million. It is now three months overdue.” I hung up. My hand was shaking. My husband, Ryan Miller, was in the living room watching a basketball game. He didn’t even turn his head when he heard me approach. “Who was that?” I stared at the back of his head, suddenly seeing a complete stranger. “The bank.” 1. I didn’t confront him right away. Not because of trust. Because I needed to map the damage first. That afternoon, I called out of work and drove to the County Recorder’s Office. “Hi, I’d like to pull the records for a property under my name.” The clerk took my ID and tapped a few keys. “Your property currently has a lien against it.” “When was that loan taken out?” “March 18th of last year.” “Secured by whom?” “First Central Bank. The loan amount is $1.5 million.” I could hear the frantic drumming of my own heart. “May I see the loan agreement?” The clerk handed me a copy. I flipped through, page by page. Borrower: Ryan Miller (My husband) Collateral: [Property Address] Loan Amount: $1,500,000 Purpose: Personal Consumption Spousal Consent Statement: I, Harper Stone, agree to use the above property as collateral… Below that was a signature. Harper Stone. I stared at the looping script for a long time. Then, I pulled out my phone and took a photo of my own signature from my driver’s license. They were not even close. That signature was not mine. I turned a few more pages and saw a “Joint Owner Verification Form.” It had a signature, a thumbprint, and a photocopy of my driver’s license. The signature was a forgery. The thumbprint—I had no idea where he got it. The photocopied ID… I remembered. Last year, Ryan said he needed to apply for a new credit card and asked to copy my license. I didn’t think twice. Now I remembered he’d copied several sheets, saying they were “for backup.” I put my phone away and handed the documents back to the clerk. “If the co-owner’s signature is proven to be forged, is this loan contract still valid?” The clerk looked up. “If you can prove the forgery, you can petition the court to have the contract declared void.” I nodded. “Thank you.” Stepping out of the office, the afternoon sun felt sharp and blinding. I stood on the sidewalk, took a deep breath, and let it out slow. $1.5 million. Last March. A year and a half ago, and I had known nothing. I pulled out my phone, opened our shared bank app, and went into Ryan’s account history. When we got married, we linked our accounts to the same phone number for convenience. We called it trust. Now it felt like a sick joke. The transaction list was long. I scrolled down to March of last year. March 20th: Deposit of $1,500,000. March 21st: Transfer out $500,000. Recipient: Gloria Miller. (My mother-in-law) March 25th: Transfer out $300,000. Recipient: Gloria Miller. April 2nd: Transfer out $200,000. Recipient: Gloria Miller. April 10th: Transfer out $300,000. Recipient: Gloria Miller. May 5th: Transfer out $150,000. Recipient: Todd Miller. (Ryan’s younger brother) I kept scrolling. The remaining balance was drained over the next few months, transferred in smaller chunks to Gloria, Todd, or names I didn’t recognize. $1.5 million. Not a cent went toward our home, our bills, or our life together. I leaned back in the car seat, staring at the screen. So that was it. That was the explanation. I remembered when Todd was getting married last year, and my mother-in-law, Gloria, had cornered me. “Todd’s wedding is a big deal, Harper. You two, as the older brother and sister-in-law, need to step up.” I had replied, “Gloria, we’re tight with the mortgage. We really can’t spare much.” She hadn’t said anything, but her face had gone cold. Later, Ryan had told me, “Ignore my mom. She’s like that. Just let it go.” I thought it was over. Now I knew the truth. They never intended to let it go. When I wouldn’t give them the cash, they took the house. I closed my eyes. A number was screaming in my mind. $336,000. In eight years, paying $3,500 every month, I had paid $336,000. My parents gave us the $80,000 down payment, plus I put in $40,000 from my pre-marital savings. How much did Ryan contribute? He said he was strapped for cash and would pay me back later. I waited eight years. He never paid back a dime. Now, he had secretly mortgaged the house for $1.5 million and handed the entire sum to his brother to buy his own place. My $336,000. My parents’ $80,000. My $40,000. All of it meant less than Todd Miller’s simple declaration, “I’m getting married.” I opened the car door and got out. I took a deep breath, walked to a large oak tree, and knelt down. I buried my face in my hands. I didn’t weep. I was beyond tears. I just needed the silence to settle the new geography of my life. Five minutes later, I stood up and brushed off my dress. Time to go home. Tonight, we were going to talk. When I got home, Ryan was already eating. I set my bag down and sat across from him. He shoveled a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “Why are you so late today?” “I took the afternoon off. Ran some errands.” “What kind of errands?” “Checking records.” Ryan’s fork paused mid-air. It was only a second, then he continued eating. “Checking what records?” “The house.” He looked up at me, then quickly back down. “What about the house?” I kept my eyes on him. He was watching the TV, not me. “Did you take out a loan on the house last March?” The room went instantly quiet. The laugh track from the sitcom on the screen sounded shrill and alien. Ryan put down his fork and turned to face me. “How… how did you find out?” “The bank called. They said the loan is three months overdue, and they’re initiating foreclosure.” His eyes went wide, and his color drained. “Those sons of bitches! I told them I’d have the payment by the end of the month—” “The end of the month?” I cut him off. “How much did you plan to pay?” He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. “The principal is $1.5 million. With interest and penalties, we’re looking at close to $1.6 million now. How, exactly, do you plan to pay that?” He dropped his head and began rubbing his hands together. “I… I’ll figure something out.” “What solution?” “Just leave it alone, Harper. I’ll handle it.” “I can’t leave it alone,” my voice dropped to a cold register. “That’s my house.” “Your house?” He looked up, his expression hardening. “It’s our house.” “Yes, our house. Which means you need my consent to mortgage it, doesn’t it?” He looked away again. I pulled my phone out of my bag, opened the photo of the loan agreement, and slid it across the table. “This signature. Did you sign this?” He looked at it, his face turning pale. “Look, that…” “That is not my handwriting,” I stated flatly. “You used a copy of my driver’s license and forged my signature.” “I didn’t forge it!” He suddenly shouted, his volume spiking. “I… I had someone sign for me.” “Had someone sign for you? Who? Did I know about it?” He fell silent. “You, without my consent, forged my signature to mortgage our home for $1.5 million,” I continued, keeping my tone as level as possible. “And that $1.5 million never touched our joint accounts. It all went to your mother and your brother. Didn’t it?” Ryan’s expression turned sickly. It was clear he hadn’t expected me to connect the dots so thoroughly. “You… you checked everything?” “Last year, when your brother got his new house—the one he paid for in cash, $1.36 million—did that money come out of this $1.5 million?” He held his silence for a long moment. Then he nodded. “Yes.” Just one word. I let out a single, humorless laugh. This was the true meaning of “family.” I had spent eight years making those mortgage payments, $3,500 every month, scraped together from the margin. He went behind my back, mortgaged the house for $1.5 million, and handed it all to his brother for a house paid for in cash. Todd had a house. Mine was about to be foreclosed. That was my value in this family. “Why didn’t you talk to me?” Ryan looked up, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Talk to you? I tried to talk to you. You said we were broke.” “I said we were broke, so you decided to secretly mortgage the house?” “What was I supposed to do? Todd was getting married! The girl’s family wouldn’t budge without a house. My mom was crying every day! What choice did I have?” “You could have talked to me.” “What good would talking do? You wouldn’t have agreed.” I looked at him, feeling a deep sense of the absurd. “I wouldn’t agree, so you went behind my back and forged my signature?” “I did it for us!” He shot up from his chair, his voice loud and accusatory. “My brother’s wedding was an emergency! My mother raised us two boys alone! It’s the least I could do!” “You can help them with your money! You don’t get to use our joint property!” “It’s partially mine!” “Partially, Ryan, not entirely! I’ve been paying the mortgage for eight years! My parents put down the down payment! What did you contribute?” He flinched. He knew he hadn’t contributed anything financially to the purchase. But he quickly recovered. “The down payment is one thing, the mortgage is another. We’re married. We don’t separate our money like that.” “We don’t separate our money, but the $1.5 million you gave your brother was separated quite clearly, wasn’t it? It was kept entirely from me.” He opened his mouth but couldn’t find a reply. “You forged my signature,” I stated, slow and deliberate. “That’s fraud, Ryan. It’s a criminal offense. You know that, right?” His face went white again. “You… you can’t say that.” “I’m not lying. Forgery, especially for this amount, you should check the statute.” He took a step back, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “What… what are you going to do?” I picked up my phone, stood up, and walked toward the bedroom. “I don’t know. I need to think.” I walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. Ryan’s voice came from the living room: “Harper! Don’t be stupid! This is a family matter, we’ll handle it ourselves! Don’t you dare tell anyone!” I didn’t answer. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. $336,000. $1,500,000. $1,360,000. The numbers spun in my head. Spinning, spinning, until I suddenly wanted to laugh. This was the price tag of my life in this marriage. Something that could be collateralized without a word. Something that could be forged without a thought. Something that could be sacrificed. Because I was the “insider.” And the insider, of course, was meant to absorb the loss. 2. The next morning, Ryan didn’t speak to me. He woke up early, and he was gone by the time I woke. A note was left on the kitchen counter: I’m finding the money. Don’t do anything reckless. I looked at the note and felt a bitter amusement. He secretly mortgaged the house, forged my name, and gave $1.5 million to his family—that was “good for the family.” I found the truth and asked for accountability—that was “reckless.” That was his entire moral universe. I got ready and went to work. All day, I kept turning the situation over: Divorce? Lawsuit? Let it go? During my lunch break, I called my mother. I didn’t go into detail, just said I’d “run into some trouble and needed to come home for a few days.” My mother was silent for a moment. “Did he hurt you?” I didn’t answer. “Harper, if you’re unhappy, come home. Your father and I are still here. What are you afraid of?” My nose stung. “Okay, I know.” I hung up and returned to my desk. Around three in the afternoon, I got a call from an unfamiliar number. I answered, and it was Gloria Miller. “Harper, do you have time after work? I need to talk to you.” Her tone was subdued, not her usual abrasive self. Even a little cautious. I knew Ryan had told her about last night’s confrontation. “What did you want to discuss?” “Just… that thing. The mortgage.” “Fine. Name a place.” Gloria named a quiet, upscale cafe near the downtown financial district. I drove there after I clocked out. Gloria was already seated in a private booth. She was wearing a deep red blazer, her hair perfectly coiffed. Seeing me, she forced a tight smile. “Harper. So glad you could come. Sit, sit.” I sat down. She poured me a cup of herbal tea and pushed it across the table. “This… this is my fault.” I stayed silent, waiting. “I was so worried about Todd’s wedding. His fiancée’s family was pushing so hard; they said no house, no wedding. I panicked and… and I had Ryan try to figure it out.” She always referred to Ryan as “your Big Brother,” as if to remind me that he was the eldest son and responsible for the younger. “You know I raised the two of them alone. It wasn’t easy. And Todd is the baby, I always feel like I have to do a little more for him…” She talked a lot. The essence was: My hardship. The youngest son’s necessity. The eldest son’s duty. The done deed should not be undone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389498”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Once again, Jasper Sterling used a starlet to force me into a divorce. I chose to compromise. The hand holding his cigarette paused slightly. After a long while, he smirked, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So obedient this time?” “Did you realize that going crazy doesn’t work, so you’re trying a new tactic?” I took off my wedding ring and spoke calmly: “No. I just don’t want to be entangled anymore.” 1. After a long silence, Jasper snubbed out the cigarette in his hand. Leaning half-against the wall, he spoke leisurely: “Actually, there’s no rush.” “It’s just that Bella’s career is on the rise recently.” “You constantly harassing her is really annoying.” I didn’t answer. Stroke by stroke. I seriously signed my name on the divorce papers. Then I said, “Don’t worry, I won’t do it anymore.” Jasper’s figure froze slightly, lost in thought. A moment later, he straightened up, his voice carrying a barely perceptible irritation: “Fine. That had better be true.” “Otherwise… you know the consequences.” My body trembled instinctively. Last time I was forced to divorce, I had an emotional breakdown. I exposed the explicit photos Bella sent to provoke me on the internet. But Jasper sued me for defamation. Afterward, I was doxxed by her fans, my personal information leaked, and I was forced to apologize publicly. That time, after hearing the court rule in his favor… Jasper looked at me going crazy with the same ease and control. Then he raised an eyebrow and dropped a sentence: “Wife, are you satisfied with this result?” It’s strange. It was so painful, so suffocating back then. But thinking back on it now. My heart didn’t waver at all. I only felt the irony. Carrying my luggage out the door. I looked at the plane ticket in my hand. Belatedly, I realized. I had finally let go of this relationship that left me in such a pathetic state. 2. On the giant screen at Time Square. Bella, endorsing a luxury lipstick brand, smiled confidently and dazzlingly. The image of the little girl baring her claws to provoke me in my memory gradually overlapped. Jasper was right about one thing. Bella’s career was indeed on the rise. Those explicit photos not only didn’t affect her. Instead, because of her “unapologetic” attitude, fans praised her as a “sober queen.” But the first time I discovered Jasper was cheating. It stemmed from Bella’s active provocation. At that time, I turned the entire Sterling household upside down. I let everyone know about the scandalous things Jasper did. During that period, all the wealthy wives I was friends with advised me. Advised me to be generous. Advised me to compromise. But I hated it. I hated Jasper for betraying me. Hated him for turning me into a hysterical madwoman. While he lived freely and happily with his mistress in his arms. I was unwilling, and I wasn’t willing to compromise. Until that time, a reporter snapped photos of the two of them getting a room at a hotel. The scandal was huge. To protect Bella’s future and reputation. Jasper decisively chose to go public with their relationship. At that time, the entire trending list was the love story between the billionaire heir and the female star. Stimulated, I went crazy and ran to Jasper’s company, screaming and making a scene in front of him. Jasper held back his anger and let Bella leave first, which only made me break down more. I smashed his head with an ashtray until he bled, cursing him as trash from the dumpster. In the end, he said coldly: “Fine! I’m trash, I cheated. If you can’t stand it, divorce me!” When the words fell, both he and I were stunned. But in the end, I spoke first. More hysterical than before, more like a lunatic. “Why should I divorce?!” “Why should I let you and that b*tch be happy?!” “Jasper, you and she deserve to carry the names of adulterer and homewrecker for the rest of your lives!!!” 3. After that, we parted on bad terms. Jasper didn’t even come home anymore. The only way I knew his whereabouts was through Bella’s Instagram posts showing off their love. Under multiple blows, I decided on an extreme measure: mutual destruction. I posted my marriage certificate with Jasper online, pointing out the fact that the two were cheating. But before the matter could ferment, Jasper made his move. He spent a huge sum to bribe my mother’s attending physician, blocking the treatment from abroad. Then he forced me to clarify that the marriage certificate was fake. The moment I heard the news, the blood drained from my face. I didn’t even notice Bella’s provocative and triumphant look. I almost screamed in a breakdown: “Jasper, you know her illness can’t wait!” “You know this will kill her!” “How can you be so cruel!?” But Jasper remained unmoved, still smoking calmly. When I collapsed on the sofa, exhausted. Only then did he put out the cigarette and say slowly: “Wife, don’t expect me to show you mercy.” “Go clarify. Don’t ruin her.” At that moment, my heart felt unprecedented suffocation and despair. Like a dying fish, flopping painfully on the shore. I couldn’t even believe the man in front of me was the lover I once had. That was also the day I finally decided to end this relationship. 4. But what made me pathetic was far more than this. My mother’s illness couldn’t wait; I had to choose to compromise. I personally admitted that the marriage certificate was fake, that everything was because of my jealousy and delusion. That tweet’s comment section is still filled with filthy language against me. [Sister, are you crazy for men?!] [Psycho, daring to spread rumors that my goddess is a mistress. You have no shame.] [Who wants to slap her to wake her up?] [Crowdfunding, I’ll chip in five bucks.] [I’ll chip in ten.] … During that time, I was muddled, like a walking corpse. I could only escape by staying by my mother’s hospital bed. Maybe my state was too haggard, even without access to the internet. My mother sensed something was wrong. Sighing, she talked to me about my past with Jasper. Young love is always the purest. In high school, Jasper liked me but felt inferior and didn’t dare to reveal his feelings. He just followed me day after day, escorting me home. Until that day, I was targeted by a few thugs. To protect me, Jasper had three ribs broken by sticks. But he gritted his teeth and shielded me firmly underneath him. Afterward, I naturally fell in love with him. At that time, Jasper hadn’t been recognized back into the Sterling family yet. He was still that wild kid living with his grandma, not having enough to eat or wear. It was my mother who had been helping him. Even his tuition was paid by my mother. But now, my mother’s past kindness became a sharp knife stabbing her. She didn’t know what her daughter was facing. I looked at my mother’s increasingly haggard face. I thought, let it be. At least, I still have my mother. At least, I haven’t lost everything. But fate loves to play tricks on the miserable.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389514”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After turning eighteen, I awakened as a succubus. My childhood friend signed a Master-Servant pact with me, but he refused to feed me. I crawled onto his bed in the middle of the night. “Julian, I’m hungry…” He pushed me against the wall, his voice full of hostility. “Can’t you control yourself? Don’t act like an animal.” He moved out and locked me in the dorm. But he didn’t know— That night, his bad-tempered roommate came back. “Come here. I’ll feed you.” 01 Hungry. So hungry I was about to lose consciousness. I didn’t even hear the sound of the door unlocking. Curled up on Julian’s bed, hugging his shirt, I frantically inhaled his scent. The bed curtain was yanked open. “Hey, Julian, what are you…” I retreated two steps, shoulder pressed against the wall, looking warily at the intruder. It was Julian’s roommate. His family was loaded, and he had a terrible temper. Xander was startled too. “Whoa? Sister, who are you?” Seeing I didn’t speak, he closed the curtain for me, lowering his voice. “Unbelievable. Bringing someone back to the dorm, Julian.” He walked further away, calling Julian’s name everywhere. He thought Julian was still in the dorm. Actually, Julian had left long ago. He dumped me here alone. Xander circled the room, found no one, leaned against the door, and called Julian. “Turned off?” He looked in my direction. “What’s the situation?” I knew Julian had turned off his phone. Because I called him many times. At first, he declined, then he turned it off. A moment later, Xander came back helplessly. He rested his hand on the bed rail, tapping twice lightly. “Sister, let’s negotiate. Can you go stay somewhere else?” But I smelled the aroma of food. This kind of aroma, I had only smelled on Julian before. I put down the clothes in my hand and slowly moved to the edge of the bed. Through the gap in the curtain, I saw Xander standing below. “Logically, I’m a guy, I should go out and let you stay. But I’m broke right now. No money means gender equality. I don’t want to sleep on the street. Besides, this is my dorm. Blame my dad for kicking me out…” Xander’s hand. Long fingers, distinct knuckles. I slowly opened my mouth. “Ah—” Xander screamed as I bit him. “Sorry, I was hungry.” I was embarrassed. Xander pinched his wrist, looking up at me, frowning. “Hunger is one thing, but don’t bite me.” 02 Xander didn’t live in the dorm often, so he had no snacks. He rummaged through Julian’s desk and found a cup of instant noodles. “Ramen, want some?” I sat on the stool, looking up at him, and shook my head. “I don’t eat that.” Xander leaned against the desk, crossing his arms, losing patience. “Aren’t you starving to death?” I stared at him for a while. “Eating that is useless.” No good. I was already starving. “Useless? Then what do you eat? What does Julian buy you?” “Salad with… essence.” Xander fell silent for a moment. “…Kinky.” He shrugged, spinning the ramen cup with one hand, passing by me. “You don’t eat, I eat.” I stood up abruptly, pressed my hands on his shoulders, and pushed him against the locker. Xander raised an eyebrow, tone surprised. “Look so cute, but so strong?” “No, I have to eat first.” I looked up at him, swallowing. “Can you let me kiss you?” “What are you saying?” He seemed to doubt his ears. Ignoring his shock, I grabbed his collar and looked up to kiss him. As soon as I touched his lips, I felt much better. He really was a meal replacement. But immediately after, I was pushed away. “What are you doing? You! Aren’t you Julian’s girlfriend?” Xander put one hand on my shoulder, the other wiping his lips with his thumb. The more he thought, the angrier he got. He paused, looking at me hesitantly. “Are you his girlfriend? You’re not a pervert, are you? Wearing a hoodie, sneaking into a boys’ dorm, force-kissing handsome guys. My life is ruined by my love for beauty…” He pulled down my hood and suddenly his eyes widened. “You are…” I quickly let go of him, hands covering the goat horns on my head. My face flushed red with shame and anger. “You discovered my secret, I have to kill you!” Xander, being choked by me, turned red, his voice squeezed out. He struggled to say three words. “…Pleasant Goat?” (A popular Chinese cartoon character) “???” 03 I used to be an ordinary girl. Went to school, took exams, got into college. But after my eighteenth birthday, I awakened as a succubus. My sister flew back from abroad specifically to explain this was a family bloodline thing. She even brought me a blond, blue-eyed hottie, saying it was my coming-of-age gift. I broke down on the spot. Got into college, finished compulsory education, and now you tell me I’m not human? The blond hottie asked if he could kiss me. “Huh?” I cried even louder. Julian came to find me then. Thinking the guy was bullying me, they got into a fight. Julian and I were childhood sweethearts. I had no parents growing up. Besides my sister, I only played with Julian. That summer evening, Julian and I sat side by side. I told him my secret. He held an ice pack to his face. When he smiled, he hissed in pain. “Ava, then sign a pact with me.” The ice pack was stuffed into my hand. Julian put his arm around my neck and lowered his head to kiss me. “I’ve liked you for many, many years.” I believed that Julian sincerely liked me back then. Later, we went to the same university. Until that time. We hadn’t seen each other for too long. I woke up in the morning, looked in the mirror, and two small horns had grown on my head. I screamed. My sister was nonchalant. “That’s our true form. It means you haven’t fed for too long.” I ran to find Julian immediately. He was happy at first, but seeing my horns, he frowned tightly. Eager to verify my sister’s words, I pounced and kissed him. Sure enough, I returned to normal. “I’m better! Julian, look.” He leaned against the wall and pushed me away coldly. “Get out.” I stood there, at a loss. From that day on, Julian’s attitude changed. “Don’t come near me again, and don’t follow me.” “We aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. I never said you were my girlfriend.” “Can’t you find someone else?” He hated my traits, so he was unwilling to feed me anymore. But the less he fed me, the more obvious my traits became, and the more he hated me. A vicious cycle. After Julian avoided me for nearly a month, I had to climb into the boys’ dorm. Crawled onto his bed in the middle of the night. “Julian, I’m starving, can you…” Julian grabbed my wrist, pushed me against the wall, his voice full of hostility. “Can’t you control yourself? Don’t act like an animal.” My back hit the wall, and I cried out in pain. My eyes got wet. Julian sat up, silent. He liked talking to me less and less. I tugged his sleeve weakly. “Julian…” The fabric slipped from my fingertips. Julian got out of bed. “Enough. I’m moving out. Don’t follow me.” The door slammed shut. Then the sound of locking. He didn’t want me to find him again. The wind blew the curtains. He didn’t even realize I had climbed in through the window. 04 He also didn’t expect. His roommate came back to stay tonight. I decided to spare Xander. A boy who likes Pleasant Goat shouldn’t be too bad. Xander leaned against the ladder, his neck red from my pinching, but he didn’t care, posture lazy. He held my student ID, comparing it to me. “Ava Xu? The one always following Julian? Yeah, looks like her, except that one doesn’t have horns.” I swatted away his hand trying to touch my horns. “Have you read fairy tales? I’m a cursed princess. When hungry, I turn into a goat. If you do adult things with me, I’ll get better.” I said this with calculation. Cursed princess sounds much better than succubus. Xander didn’t quite believe my nonsense, or rather, he didn’t care about that. Listening to me, he narrowed his eyes slightly. “So you’re that kind of hungry.” He poked my forehead, threw the ID back to me, and climbed onto his bed in a few steps. “Go play by yourself. I’ll wear headphones and pretend I don’t exist.” Then he turned, pulled the quilt, covering up to his nose. “Holy sh*t! You followed me up? What for?” The space on the bed was cramped, atmosphere tense. I touched my lips with my fingertips and swallowed. “You smell so good. I want to kiss more, can I?” He turned his head away unnaturally. “Don’t start trouble.” When he spoke, his sharp Adam’s apple bobbed. Just as I wanted to press it with my hand, he grabbed my hand. “What do you want?” His voice was cold. I leaned closer, lifting my chin slightly. “You.” Xander’s ears turned completely red instantly. I moved closer slowly. Forced, he pressed against the wall, closed his eyes, then looked at me again. “Princess of Goat Village, are you really not Julian’s girlfriend?” “No.” I swore with three fingers. Xander lowered his eyes, holding my fingers, slowly tightening his grip. “Whether you were or not, starting now, you aren’t.” He grabbed my wrist, pinned it to the bed, lowered his head, and kissed me for a while. Propping himself up on his elbow, he looked at me and got up lazily. “Enough, right?” I touched the top of my head. The horns were gone. I hooked my arm around his neck and pulled him back forcefully. “Not enough.” Xander struggled to get up. Failed. He buried his head deep, caught my hand under the covers, voice muffled and husky. “Hey, it’s our first time meeting. Can’t you respect me a little?” “But you always want to run away. And…” I felt wronged too. “And I’m not full.” He closed his eyes, surrendering completely. “I won’t run. Let go first.” After getting out of bed, Xander told me to wait for him. Not long after, the dorm lights went out. When he came back up, he took off his shirt. He turned on his phone flashlight and placed it face down on the bed. In the dark environment, this cool white light illuminated his abs. Xander sat on the bed, lips curving slightly, signaling me with his eyes. “Come here. I’ll feed you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389530”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1. My fiancé’s childhood friend, Candy, claimed to be a girl’s girl, a total man-hater who only ever wanted to cuddle with pretty women. So at our engagement party, drunk and emotional, she suddenly lunged at me. “My sweet, beautiful Stella,” she cried, her voice syrupy and thick with tears as she clung to me. “How could you let yourself get snatched up by some pig?” She wouldn’t let go. All the guys were laughing, and even Brian, my fiancé, came over to pry her off, a look of weary amusement on his face. “She’s my wife, Candy. Go hug a dyke or something.” But she only squeezed me tighter, tilting her face up to look at me earnestly. “Don’t you worry, beautiful. I’ve already checked out the merchandise for you.” “Brian is… exceptionally gifted. You two will be very ‘compatible’ after the wedding.” … The boisterous private room fell dead silent. Brian was the first to react, grabbing her arm. “Candy, what nonsense are you spouting now?” Though his face had hardened, his voice was as gentle as if he were scolding a child. Candy stumbled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I’m not talking nonsense! At the bachelor party yesterday, we showed each other, didn’t we?” Her eyes were wide with innocence. “I’m doing this for you, Stella! What if he was all talk and no action? You’d be getting a raw deal!” “Candy!” Brian’s composure finally cracked. “Shut your mouth!” He turned to me, forcing a smile. “We were playing truth or dare yesterday, just drunken foolishness!” Candy snorted with laughter, poking him in the chest. “Oh really? And who was it bragging to his old man about his eight inches yesterday? You pigs are so disgusting when you joke around.” The room erupted in laughter. Someone even whistled. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, the only way I could keep my expression neutral. “That’s enough!” My best friend, Jenny, shot to her feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. “Candy, have you no shame, saying things like this in public?” Candy flinched, letting go of Brian and throwing herself back into my arms. “Jenny, why are you yelling at me…? If it wasn’t for Stella’s sake, who would want to look at that disgusting thing?” She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. “Stella, are you mad at me? I was just… I was afraid you wouldn’t be happy…” Seeing my prolonged silence, Brian frowned. “Stella, Candy and I grew up together. I think of her as one of the guys!” “Don’t look so grim. You’re scaring her.” His friends chimed in. “Come on, Stella’s always been so understanding. Why get so hung up on this tonight?” “If there was anything between them, it would have happened ages ago. You know that, Stella.” “What are you guys talking about? Stella loves Brian to death. She wouldn’t get mad over something so small.” Amidst the chorus of casual dismissals, only Aaron, Jenny’s brother, sat quietly in the corner, not smiling. He held his glass, his gaze fixed on me. I took a deep breath and, to everyone’s surprise, smiled and patted Candy’s back. “You silly girl. Why would I be mad at you?” Candy’s body went rigid for a second. I turned to Brian, my eyes filled with a perfectly measured shyness. “The fact that Brian can talk to you so openly about this stuff just proves he sees you as a true friend.” “That being the case, why would I overthink it?” The tension drained from Brian’s face, and his gaze softened. “Stella, I knew you were the most sensible…” Jenny shot me a look of pure, unadulterated fury. She kicked over a bottle of wine on the table and stormed out of the room. The atmosphere turned awkward. I smiled faintly. “Jenny has a short fuse. I’ll go talk to her.” Under the dim light at the end of the hallway, Jenny was wreathed in smoke. The cigarette in her fingers trembled when she heard my footsteps. “Stella, have you simped yourself brainless?” “That was a power play, you idiot! Can’t you see she’s putting you in your place?” 2. Of course I could see it. Not only could I see it, I knew exactly why she was doing it. After all, this same “girl’s girl,” Candy, had been the reason for the demise of Brian’s last five relationships. At first, I thought she genuinely liked girls. But then I started to notice things. She would use the excuse of “sharing a drink with my beautiful Stella” to snatch Brian’s half-drunk bubble tea from the table. She would use the excuse of “needing to cuddle with my beautiful Stella” to shove him away from me countless times. And on every single trip we took, she would insist on sleeping between us. “Stay away, you pig. You’re not allowed to defile my beautiful Stella.” Having grown up in a wealthy family, I was no stranger to these subtle wars of attrition. Jenny was even more incensed. “You know, and you still put up with it? Is it really like they say? Do you love him that much?” I stared out the window into the pitch-black night, silent for a moment. I had been in love with Brian for ten years. The day I found out we were engaged to be married, I was too ecstatic to sleep… But even the most ardent flame can’t withstand being doused with cold water, again and again. “The Gu family needs my family’s shipping routes, and my family needs their real estate channels,” I said quietly. “Even if I break off the engagement, I have to do it in a way that leaves them with nothing to say.” Jenny studied me for a moment, then a slow grin spread across her face. “I knew you weren’t the type to just take it. So, what’s the plan? I’ve got your back, 100 percent.” Just then, Candy peeked her head out of the room. “Stella, why aren’t you back yet? I miss you…” She dragged me back inside, and the drinking resumed. Brian’s eyes were filled with satisfaction at my “sensible” behavior. Candy squeezed in next to me, her hand casually landing on my thigh. “Stella, your skin is so nice. So smooth and soft. What’s your secret?” Before I could react, she flipped my skirt up. A sudden cold draft on my inner thigh was followed by a chorus of catcalls. “Damn, look at those legs!” “Candy, how’s it feel?” I jerked away, pulling my skirt down in a panic. Brian saw it happen and just chuckled. “Candy, stop messing around.” Those few, weightless words were enough to make Jenny start to rise from her seat again. I caught her eye and gave a slight shake of my head. Then I turned, took Candy’s hand, and smiled warmly. “You like it, Candy? It’s all bought and paid for. Thirty thousand a month on treatments.” “If you like, I can get you a membership. Your hands are so rough. How will any boy like them?” A muscle twitched in Candy’s brow. She forced a smile. “I don’t want gross boys hanging around me. I only like you, Stella…” “But I have Brian,” I said, tilting my head with a sweet smile. “I take care of myself so Brian will like what he sees. As for anyone else…” I looked at Brian, my expression turning wounded. “I don’t want anyone else to see…” The words had barely left my mouth when a suit jacket was draped over me. Brian had wrapped me up completely, and for the first time, there was a hint of reproach in his voice. “Candy, that’s going too far.” Buried in Brian’s jacket, I watched with amusement as Candy’s face turned ashen. From the shadows in the corner, I heard a very faint laugh. It was 1 a.m. when the party finally broke up. A drunk Candy was draped all over me, clinging like a limpet. “I don’t want to be separated from my beautiful Stella…” Seeing how drunk she was, Brian sighed, but then naturally slipped an arm around her waist. “Alright, stop making a scene. I’ll take you home first.” Candy, who had been attached to me like an octopus, immediately let go and expertly slid into the passenger seat of his car. The back seat was piled high with sports bags, leaving no room to sit. Brian gently wiped a bit of drool from the corner of Candy’s mouth and started the car. “Wait for me, Stella. I’ll be right back for you after I drop her off.” The engine roared to life, and his taillights vanished into the night. I crouched on the steps of the curb. The night wind blew, chilling my knees. Before the party, he had told everyone in the room, “I’m not drinking tonight. I have to drive Stella home.” But there had never been a place for me in his car. An SUV pulled up behind me. Jenny rolled down the passenger window and waved. “Stella, get in. My brother will give you a ride.” Jenny cursed a blue streak the entire way home, from Candy to Brian to their whole pack of idiot friends. Aaron drove in silence, his eyes occasionally flicking to me in the rearview mirror. Before I got out, I looked at Aaron. “Can you do me a favor? I need you to find some information for me.” Before I went to sleep, Candy posted on her social media. [Taught the pig who’s trying to steal my girl a lesson today! Since he apologized so nicely, I’ll forgive him for now! Ladies, a man needs to be put in his place!] In the photo, she was pinching Brian’s ear, their faces pressed together intimately. They were both wearing hotel bathrobes, necklines gaping open. I liked the post and let the darkness swallow me whole. 3. Brian didn’t contact me all night. It wasn’t until noon the next day that a text came through. “Stella, I’ve booked the wedding dress designer for 3 p.m. Let’s go look at some styles together.” No mention of last night. No mention of Candy. As if nothing had happened. I waited in the bridal shop for forty minutes before a familiar laugh echoed from the entrance. Brian and Candy walked in, playfully shoving each other. A sales associate greeted them with a practiced smile. “You two make such a lovely couple.” Candy giggled, wrapping her arms around Brian’s neck and giving his inner thigh a playful pinch. “Hardly! I’ve got a grudge against him for stealing my wife!” The associate’s smile froze on her face. Only then did Brian look over at me, his hand still resting on Candy’s waist. “Stella, have you been waiting long?” “It’s all this one’s fault. Had to pick a fight with me before we left, complaining that I stole her precious Stella…” Candy playfully punched his chest and ran over to hug me. “Stella! I’m here to help you pick out your dress! I promise you’ll be the most beautiful bride ever!” The designer rolled out a rack of gowns. Heavy lace, vintage satin, ethereal tulle—each one breathtakingly expensive. I tried on the first one, a strapless mermaid gown. The expert tailoring perfectly accentuated my waistline. But Candy circled me, her fingers hovering near my waist. “Oh no, this one makes you look fat. Your waist isn’t thin enough, Stella. It makes you look like a barrel.” The second was a vintage V-neck, elegant and classic. “Your features are too plain, Stella. This one looks like a nun’s habit on you. It’s so drab. No, no.” The third, a dramatic ball gown with a long train, was dazzling. “Pfft, on your tiny frame, it looks like a toilet brush has come to life…” Brian laughed helplessly. “So none of them look good? I suppose they’d only look good on you, right?” Candy’s eyes lit up. “Can I try one?” Without waiting for an answer, she pointed at the mermaid gown I had just taken off. “That one. In my size.” Five minutes later, she emerged in the dress. She was curvier than I was, and the gown strained against her fuller figure, her chest practically bursting out. Brian’s gaze was fixed on her. Candy puffed out her chest, raising an eyebrow. “See? Your old man’s still got it.” Then she turned, grabbed me, and started snapping a flurry of photos with her phone. The flash was so bright I couldn’t see. “Beautiful girls belong with beautiful girls. We can’t let the gross men have all the fun.” After the photoshoot, she suddenly hooked her arm around Brian’s neck, her voice a playful threat. “I want to wear a wedding dress too! I want to get married on stage with you and Stella!” Brian chuckled, pinching her nose affectionately. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Candy shook his arm. “You stole my Stella from me! The least you can do is let me walk down the aisle with her to console your poor old dad, right?” I clutched the hem of my dress, waiting to see what Brian would choose. A part of me already knew the answer, but I stubbornly waited for the axe to fall. Sure enough, Brian turned to me with that look—part question, part plea—expecting me to be “sensible” one more time. “Stella, everyone knows it’s our wedding. The clothes don’t really matter that much, so maybe…” The last bit of warmth in my heart turned to ice. I smiled calmly. “Of course. As long as you’re happy, Brian.” A wedding with two brides. This was going to be a show.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389546”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On a reality TV show, I accidentally smashed a priceless antique vase belonging to Sebastian Vance, the elusive heir to the Vance business empire. Rumor has it, this vase was the only gift left to him by his “tragic first love” who passed away young. The billionaire cherished it, allegedly polishing it every night before bed, valuing it more than his own life. Now that I’ve destroyed it, everyone says I’m finished. Sebastian Vance will bury me. I stood there, face full of confusion. What the hell? Wasn’t that vase just a defective piece of junk I made in pottery class years ago and tossed at him? And more importantly— Damn it, Sebastian. Since when am I dead?! 1. Two years into my acting career, I finally hit the big time. I was trending #1 on every social media platform. The bad news? I was trending because I shattered Sebastian Vance’s favorite vase. I was being “hate-followed” by the entire country. The internet was roasting me alive. @GossipGirl_X: “No way. Does she not know? That vase is Sebastian’s holy grail. It was a gift from his late soulmate. He takes that thing everywhere, even on private jets.” @VanceFanClub: “A maid once misplaced that vase along with a million-dollar emerald necklace. Sebastian didn’t care about the necklace, but he almost fired the whole staff over the vase! Chloe Hart is DOOMED.” @RealityTea: “Chloe Hart is toast. Career over. Cancelled.” @JustHereForDrama: “She deserves it. The producers warned her that the mansion belonged to the Vance family. She’s so clumsy and disrespectful.” There was no sympathy. Even my rival, Tiffany Stone, jumped on the bandwagon. She posted a picture of a broken ceramic shard with the caption: “Such a beautiful piece of art. What a tragedy. I hope its owner isn’t too heartbroken. 😢” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. If she hadn’t stuck her foot out and tripped me, I wouldn’t have fallen. I wouldn’t have touched that vase. She caused this mess, and now she’s acting like a saint. My agent, Sarah, was practically crying. “Chloe, what do we do? You’ve offended the Vance family. You’re actually going to be blacklisted.” Sebastian was currently overseas on business, so he hadn’t reacted yet. But domestic brands were already dropping me. Several contracts I was about to sign pulled a U-turn and went straight to Tiffany Stone, who has the same “sweetheart” image I was trying to build. Sarah was grinding her teeth. “We’re in the same agency! I can’t believe she used such a dirty trick to sabotage you. And the executives know she did it, but they’re protecting her. It’s disgusting.” “So… what now?” Sarah looked at me, mentally calculating if she could book me a few C-list gigs before I was banned from Hollywood forever. I looked at her, calm as a cucumber. I patted her shoulder. “Relax. It’s just a busted vase. Who cares?” Sarah’s eyes bulged out of her head. “Chloe! Have you lost your mind? That’s a priceless artifact! Selling you into indentured servitude wouldn’t cover the cost!” Priceless? I almost laughed. That “artifact” was a reject from when I first started learning pottery. The base was rough, the lines were uneven, and the firing was patchy. I gave it to Sebastian years ago because I didn’t want to throw it away. After we got married, I entered the entertainment industry and was constantly traveling. I hadn’t seen the thing in years. I was surprised to see it on the shelf during filming. I just wanted to get a closer look at my amateur work when Tiffany tripped me. Now the whole world was waiting for my execution. But they were going to be disappointed. Sebastian wouldn’t do a thing. I am his legally wedded wife. Half the Vance fortune is technically mine. And the vase? I made it. But… deceased soulmate? I’m just busy with work, not dead! That toxic man and his rumors. “Sarah, I made that thing. I know what it’s worth. If it was actually priceless, would I be grinding in Hollywood right now?” “It broke. Big deal. I have a dozen more in my studio. I’ll replace it.” Sarah stared at me for a full minute before whispering, “She’s cracked.” She thought the stress had broken my brain. So, she immediately signed me up for whatever reality show would take me, trying to cash out before the end. The only show desperate enough to take the “Vase Breaker” was a live-streamed dating show called Love Unscripted. It was a huge production sponsored by a massive conglomerate. Three men, four women. One girl ends up alone. Given my reputation, that girl was definitely going to be me. I signed the contract. Then, on the flight to the location, I saw the sponsor list. The Vance Group. And rumors were swirling that the “Mystery Guest” was none other than the CEO himself. The internet thought he was coming to sue me live on air. They were half right. He wasn’t coming to sue me. He was coming to catch me. I had lied to him. I told him I wasn’t going on a dating show. If he caught me pretending to be single on national TV… I was panicked. 2. In the makeup room, I was too stressed to notice Tiffany Stone walk in. She was also on the show. A newbie actress next to her whispered loud enough for me to hear, “Some people have no shame. She smashed Mr. Vance’s vase and still dares to show her face? Is she waiting for a lawsuit?” With no cameras around, Tiffany dropped the act. She rolled her eyes. “She’s desperate. Probably hoping to hook up with a rich guy to pay off her debt. Disgusting.” “I heard Mr. Vance might be the mystery guest,” the newbie said. “Maybe she thinks she has a chance with him. Ha! As if.” Tiffany smirked. “In her dreams.” She walked past me, deliberately bumping my shoulder. The livestream began. The rules were brutal. After the intros, the audience voted. The most popular girl got first pick of the men. The men had no right to refuse. The chat was exploding with rumors about Sebastian Vance being Guest #4. I was dead last in the polls. Tiffany was #1. She looked smugly at me. The male options: Brad, the Film King (Secretly dating the Film Queen, who was also on the show). Justin, the current “It Boy” (A scumbag who tried to hit on me and then paid bots to hate on me when I rejected him). Noah, the Campus Heartthrob (A rookie). Tiffany bypassed all of them. She wrote down Justin’s name. I was confused. Wasn’t she gunning for Sebastian? The Film Queen picked the Film King. The Rookie Girl picked Noah. That left me with the Mystery Guest #4. The supposed “Prince of Wall Street.” I was trembling. I pointed my finger at the curtain for Guest #4. I could already imagine Sebastian’s cold, mocking face when the curtain dropped. The music swelled. The curtain rose. And… Empty space. The studio erupted in laughter. The host announced: “Unfortunately, our Mystery Guest had a scheduling conflict and withdrew from the show!” I opened my eyes. No Sebastian. The comments section was brutal. “LMAO her sugar daddy dreams are crushed.” “Sebastian is literally in the same city for business, and he cancelled? He probably heard she was here and bailed. Embarrassing.” “She really thought she could match with a billionaire after breaking his stuff?” Off-camera, Tiffany sneered at me. “Idiot. You actually thought he’d come? You aren’t even fit to breathe the same air as him.” She knew. She picked Justin because she knew Sebastian wasn’t showing up. She set me up to be the clown. 3. The couples went off on romantic dates. I was left alone at the villa. The producers, wanting to squeeze some labor out of me, sent me to the market to buy groceries for dinner. I didn’t mind. I used to cook for my master’s entire pottery studio back in the day. While I was picking vegetables, I felt a tug on my shirt. I looked down. A little boy with chubby cheeks and big, teary eyes was looking up at me. He looked lost. His eyes lit up when he saw me. He launched himself at my legs. “Au—” He was about to yell “Auntie!” I slammed my hand over his mouth. “Shh! Call me Chloe!” It was Leo. Sebastian’s nephew. “What are you doing here?” I whispered. It turned out the resort we were filming at was owned by the Vance Group. Sebastian was here for work, and he brought Leo. Leo had escaped his nannies. So Sebastian was here. Minutes away. I shivered. Leo refused to tell me where the bodyguards were, so I had to drag him back to the filming villa. Leo’s parents died young. Sebastian and I raised him. He was basically my son. Back at the villa, Leo followed me around the kitchen like a duckling, helping me wash vegetables. “Chloe, can I help?” “Chloe, you’re the best cook!” His sweet voice melted my heart. When Tiffany returned from her date and saw him, her face twisted. “Whose brat is this? Running around the kitchen? No manners.” She saw me. “Oh, Chloe brought him? Makes sense. Trash attracts trash.” My face went cold. “Tiffany, watch your mouth. You can’t afford to offend this child.” This was the heir to the Vance Empire. Tiffany laughed. “Can’t afford it? Please. Is this your illegitimate son with some random sugar daddy?” She looked Leo up and down with disgust. “No wonder you got resources so fast. You were busy birthing kids for old men. You act innocent, but—” I covered Leo’s ears. “Tiffany Stone, shut up!” “Making dirty jokes about a child? You are vile. If you say one more word in front of him…” I walked over, grabbed a handful of her hair extensions, and yanked. “I will snatch you bald.” Tiffany screamed. 4. The producers decided Leo was ratings gold and made him a “Special Guest.” I knew the little traitor had texted Sebastian for permission. So, my romantic dating show turned into a babysitting show. The comments were mocking me relentlessly. “Chloe is on ‘Mommy duty’ because no man wants her.” “Is that actually her secret kid?” Until the next activity: A Pottery Workshop. We were visiting the studio of Master Elias Thorne, a living legend in the ceramic world. There was a specific artifact on display: The Phantom Teapot. A paper-thin porcelain masterpiece. While the cameras were rolling, there was a crash. The teapot lay in pieces on the floor. Leo was standing over it, crying, clutching his elbow. The comments exploded. “OMG THAT BRAT BROKE THE MASTERPIECE!” “Chloe is useless! Can’t even watch a kid!” “Like mother like son. Destruction runs in their veins.” The producers were panicking. This teapot was worth a fortune. I hugged Leo, checking his arm. He was sobbing in pain. Tiffany stood nearby, crossing her arms. “Some people never learn. Like I said, no manners. You broke Mr. Vance’s vase, and now your wild child broke Master Thorne’s teapot.” “Trying to dump this on the production team? You’re finished, Chloe.” I was furious. I saw it. Tiffany had stuck her foot out and tripped Leo when the cameras were panning away. “It wasn’t an accident,” I yelled. “You tripped him! And that teapot isn’t as priceless as you think. We need to take Leo to the hospital!” The room gasped. Tiffany looked delighted. “Wow. The audacity. You’re disrespecting Master Thorne’s work? That was a unique piece destined for a museum! How are you going to pay for it?” The comments were chanting: CHLOE PAY UP! CHLOE GET OUT! I looked at the hate-filled screen. “Fine. You want me to pay? I’ll pay right now.” I rolled up my sleeves. I grabbed a lump of raw clay. My hands moved from muscle memory. I centered the clay on the wheel. Within minutes, a perfect, paper-thin form rose from the spinning disc. I grabbed a sculpting tool and carved the intricate “phantom” lattice pattern into the wet clay with surgical precision. I dipped it in glaze and set it for the rapid-fire kiln. The room was dead silent. Tiffany scoffed. “Are you insane? You think your play-doh garbage can replace a Master’s work? You are insulting the art form!” Justin chimed in. “Yeah, stop embarrassed yourself. It’s pathetic.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389562”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During the dinner party, my mom and her “frenemy” were trading passive-aggressive barbs at the table. Meanwhile, in the coat closet, her son and I were locked in a different kind of battle. He was breathless, pinned against the wall by my kiss, begging for mercy: “Stop… my mom is going to catch us…” “God, you guys are so high-maintenance.” I took off my flannel shirt and tied it around his waist. “There. That hides it.” 1 My mom has a best friend named Diane Cole. After they both got married, the besties turned into “frenemies.” Diane has to compare everything with my mother. Since both families are well-off, they don’t care about jewelry or cars. They care about whose kid is winning life. Liam Cole is Diane’s son. Growing up, he was the introverted, stable, naturally gifted genius. I, on the other hand, was the loud, rebellious art student with a questionable GPA. Influenced by our mothers, Liam and I couldn’t stand each other. At every gathering, I played games on my phone. He ate silently or reviewed flashcards. The conversation between Mom and Diane always followed the same script: “My Liam got the highest AP scores in the state again. Next month he’s representing the school at the National Math Olympiad…” “Well, my Harper took first place in the National Contemporary Dance Finals.” As we got older, the competition shifted gears: “Sigh, Liam received another love letter last month. Thank god he’s so disciplined. Aside from his studies, he never gets too close to girls.” My mom laughed. “Diane, don’t suffocate the boy. It’s perfectly normal to have crushes at their age…” Diane didn’t agree. “Aren’t you worried about Harper getting distracted by boys?” I finished my round of Mobile Legends, looked up, and grinned. “Diane, what era are we living in? Honestly, dating at my age is considered a late start.” “Oh? But Harper is so pretty, surely she hasn’t started seeing someone already?” Just as Diane finished her sentence, Liam’s chopsticks—clack—hit the floor. My mom seized the opportunity. “Oh, tons of boys at school are chasing Harper. All art students. Pianists, drummers, jazz dancers… they all look like movie stars.” Diane scoffed. “So what if they look like stars? My Liam is handsome too.” My mom looked at Liam, opened her mouth, but couldn’t refute it. Diane was right. Liam was the face of our high school. He didn’t just win medals; he looked like an ice prince. Even the instructors in my dance studio talked about him. They praised his proportions, his aura, his features. They said if he ever joined a dance class, he’d be a star. Sure, the Art Department had plenty of hot guys. But they were trendy—dyed hair, ripped jeans, bending the dress code every chance they got. Liam, with his dark hair and crisp white shirts, was a breath of fresh air. His stock only went up, never down. Every time he walked past the arts wing, heads turned. Diane put a shrimp on my plate. “Harper, listen to me. Don’t date yet. I hear those artsy boys are players. They sleep around. Don’t waste your time on future unemployed actors…” Diane had stepped right on a landmine. I was a fangirl. I snapped back immediately. “Excuse me, Diane? Who says actors are players? My boyfriend is incredibly talented and successful! He got a perfect score on his SATs.” Liam’s face changed. His hand jerked, knocking over his water glass. He scrambled up, trying to stop the water spreading across the table, but it soaked his shirt and pants. Diane handed him napkins. “Good lord, why are you so clumsy today?” “Sorry. Diane, Margo… and…” Liam’s gaze landed on me. “Harper. Take your time eating. I’m going home to change.” I smirked at him. He ducked his head, grabbed his jacket, and practically ran out the door. Late that night, I got a text from Liam. Liam: [Can you teach me how to date?] I froze. I checked the profile pic and the handle three times. It was definitely Liam Cole. I typed a slow: [?] Liam: [If your boyfriend would mind, pretend I didn’t ask. Sorry.] I sat up straight, firing back three devil emojis. Me: [My boyfriend says he doesn’t mind.] I glanced at my iPad lock screen featuring Timothée Chalamet. Yeah, my “boyfriend” definitely didn’t mind. Hilarious. Liam actually believed my lie at dinner? In reality, I only liked three things: Chasing celebrities, binge-watching shows, and reading romance novels. I had zero energy for real dating. But being Liam Cole’s dating coach? That sounded fun. I tore open a bag of chips, ready for the tea. Me: [Dude, where’d you go? Don’t leave me hanging.] Liam: [No. Just thinking.] Me: [About what?] Liam: [The person I like has a boyfriend. But the internet says as long as they aren’t married, I still have a 50% chance. I… want to try.] My chip fell on the floor. I sent a voice memo: “Holy crap, Liam. You’re trying to be a homewrecker for love?” The nerd, Liam Cole, starting his villain arc? I’d sooner believe he was hacked. But he sent a voice memo back: “It’s only wrecking a home if they’re in love. If he isn’t as good as me, if he doesn’t know her like I do, why can’t I steal her?” It was late, so I used the speech-to-text feature. Reading the “her,” I paused. Me: [Bestie, I have to ask.] Liam: [Anything.] Me: [Is the person you like a guy or a girl?] Liam: […A girl. Harper, is your misunderstanding of me really that deep?] I sent a sticker of a cartoon character awkwardly twiddling its thumbs. Don’t blame me. Like his mom said, he never talks to girls. Brittany, the school’s prom queen and a total sweetheart, chased him for two years. He was an iceberg. She cried so hard her mascara ran. “It’s not just me! The cheer captain, the valedictorian—he rejected everyone. He only talks to guys. If he’s not gay, I’ll eat my ballet shoes.” Scary. Every girl who chased Liam ended up crying, convinced he just wasn’t into women. Liam sent two more messages. Liam: [I don’t have many girls in my contacts. You’re the only one I could think of. Will you help me?] It was rare for Liam to beg. Even rarer that he was begging me. I had to say yes. I don’t support homewrecking, but since the homewrecker is Liam… I figured I should help him minimize the damage. Me: [Send me her MBTI personality type ASAP. I’ll help you conquer her in a month!] Liam: [She’s an ENFP. bubbly, bright, confident, cute. She’s so pretty she looks intimidating.] I rolled around on my bed, laughing. Me: [Oh my god. Liam, you are down bad. Have you heard that introverts are just toys for extroverts? You’re doomed to be her puppy.] Liam, the king of concise texts, suddenly sent a sticker of a blushing dog covering its eyes with its ears. Liam: [Okay. Teach me. How do I become her puppy?] Uh. Why did the ice prince suddenly sound so… submissive? My smile froze. This contrast gave me a weird feeling I didn’t know how to handle. My screen went dark. The room was pitch black. I thumped my chest. My heart felt a little tight. I picked up the phone for the last message. Me: [It’s late. I need to sleep. It’s the weekend tomorrow. I’ll teach you when I wake up.] Liam switched back to his default factory settings. Liam: [Okay. Goodnight.] I stared at the screen. It was that switch in attitude! It made my mood swing up and down with it. I had insomnia until 3 AM, then sat up in bed, realizing something. “Genius! If Liam uses this hot-and-cold tactic on that girl—switching between eager puppy and cool detachment—she’ll lose her mind wondering about him.” I texted the idea to Liam. He didn’t reply. Probably asleep. 2 The next day, while I was using concealer to hide my dark circles, Liam texted. Liam: [Your advice worked. She texted me spontaneously at 3 AM.] My hand paused. 3 AM? Oh. That was when I texted him. He didn’t reply to me… so he was chatting with his goddess? Liam: [As a thank you, let me treat you to lunch today?] I thought about it and declined. Me: [Nah. If your crush sees us, it might ruin the progress you just made. I’ll just be your cyber-wingman.] Liam: [Okay. The strategist makes a good point.] I stretched, ready to order an iced Americano and rot in my room all day. My mom poked her head in. Full glam, new perfume, dressed like she was going to the Hamptons. “Baby, Diane just called. She invited us to lunch at her new beach house. Are you free?” “I am, but I don’t want to—” “I’ll buy you breakfast. Get changed. No rush.” Mom blew me a kiss. “My Harper looks so pretty today!” Looking at her bright smile, I swallowed my refusal. “Fine. Your baby chooses to spoil you today. I’ll go.” “Love you!” Mom hummed a tune as she went downstairs. I patted my face. “Diane, seriously? How many times a month do you need to see my mom? Are you enemies or soulmates?” We arrived at Diane’s new oceanfront property just in time for lunch. The sun was blazing. She had set up a long table in the garden. It was piled high with expensive seafood—my mom’s weakness. Mom swallowed, whispering viciously, “She just loves to show off! Look at that seafood… it looks so fresh.” “You made it! I was rushing so I didn’t prepare much, just steamed some catches.” Diane walked out holding a massive lobster. “Oof, this is heavy. Margo, come help me in the kitchen? I have a few dishes left.” Diane waved at my mom. My mom grumbled about “didn’t you hire a caterer?” but immediately trotted off with Diane. I found a swing chair in the garden and sat down, closing my eyes. The sun was brutal. “Didn’t sleep well?” “…” I opened my eyes. A hand was hovering over my forehead, blocking the glare. Liam stood backlit against the sun, his white shirt smelling like ocean breeze and laundry detergent. “No, I slept fine. You’re the one who probably didn’t sleep,” I smiled. “How’s it going with her?” “Feels like we’re talking past each other,” he said, pulling a patio umbrella over to shade me. “Just talking won’t work.” I looked at the shadow on the grass. “But given her situation, meeting up often might be…” “Scandalous?” Liam sat down next to me. “I know I look pathetic. But my feelings for her… day after day…” He looked quietly into my eyes. “They’re getting out of control.” “Then be direct. Go all in.” “How?” Liam chuckled at my intensity. “You’re an ENFP too. What kind of guys do you like?” My brain immediately summoned Timothée Chalamet. “Handsome, sincere, hardworking, tall, and he has to have a killer smile…” “Does your boyfriend meet all those criteria?” “Obviously!” I blurted it out, eyes crinkling with a smile. “That’s good.” Liam’s voice sounded a bit hoarse. He looked down, the sea breeze messing up his bangs. I looked at his perfect profile and paused. “You’re great too.” Liam curled his lip. “Who is better? Me or your boyfriend?” “…” I thought about it. Liam was rich, smart, classy, and objectively good-looking. But I stuck to my guns. “My boyfriend is still better.” The smile vanished from Liam’s face. “Why did you stop smiling?” I asked. “Born this way. Besides, I look ugly when I smile.” Me: “?” 3 For the next month, Liam seemed to have given up his villain arc. At school, he was back to his “no girls allowed” policy, only interested in textbooks. It was like the guy who wanted to be a homewrecker that night never existed. But one night, I got a notification. It was a screenshot of his mock exam scores and early acceptance letters to Ivy League schools. A second later, he unsent it. Liam: [Sorry, wrong chat.] Me: [I saw it. Congrats, genius.] Diane loved to brag about his grades, but Liam usually hated it. Self-promotion was out of character. I sent a smirk emoji. Me: [Wrong chat? Hehe. Meant to send that to your goddess?] Liam: [Yeah. She seems to care about that stuff.] Me: [Oh, look at you, Liam. Peacocking?] Liam: [Is it obvious?] Me: [Very.] Liam: [Do you think she’ll find it annoying?] Me: [If she hates show-offs, yes. But if she’s shallow and only likes pretty faces and abs…] I was typing the second paragraph when Liam dropped three selfies in the chat. My finger slipped, and I frantically hit save. By the time I got to the third one, Liam unsent all of them. Dammit! Why did he have to delete them so fast? I wanted to analyze the collarbone under the white shirt. I wanted to see the lean muscle definition. Liam’s “delete” button made it all vanish like a dream. Liam: [If I… occasionally send her normal selfies, would that be okay?] I rolled my eyes. Liam called those “normal”? Me: [You can send them. Condition: Don’t unsend them after five seconds. Give the girl some time to appreciate the art, okay?] Liam: [Okay. snicker.jpg] Why was he laughing? I stared at the sticker of the snickering dog, feeling frustrated. Me: [Resend that third “normal” selfie.] Liam: [No. I’m shy.] Liam: [It’s just abs. Doesn’t your boyfriend have them? smile.jpg] Me: … Well played, Liam. Another sleepless night for me. 4 The next day, I went to school looking like a zombie. My homeroom teacher intercepted me in the hall. “Have you decided on a college list?” “Yeah.” “Harper, I know for art students the GPA requirements are lower, but…” She hesitated. I knew what she meant. My math scores were tragic. “Your portfolio is strong. You have two months left. Let’s pull up those academic scores.” She patted my shoulder. “Good luck.” Walking out of the office, I yawned so wide I almost dislocated my jaw. I ran right into Liam. I covered my mouth with the back of my hand. He nodded politely. As he passed, I grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Morning, Liam.” “Morning. Something wrong?” He stopped. Even with the hallway crowded, he didn’t shake off my hand. I gave him my brightest, most dazzling smile. “It’s early. Want to grab breakfast?” “You haven’t eaten?” He paused, then turned toward the stairs. “Let’s go.” I hurried to catch up, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with him. We’d known each other forever, but this was the first time we’d walked together openly at school. I followed the gaze of other students and looked at Liam. I was wearing a high ponytail, which brushed right against his ear level. “Liam, are you 6’1?” I asked randomly. “6’2.” “I’m 5’7.” “Okay. And?” He looked down, locking eyes with me. I blurted out, “How tall is your goddess? I heard a 15cm height difference is perfect for kissing without tiptoeing.” Liam’s lip quirked. “I can bend down.” The morning sun turned the tips of our ears red. He was backlit, glowing. The unattainable male lead from all those campus novels suddenly had a face. Some loudmouth from the Art Department shouted, “Holy crap, is that Harper with Liam Cole? Are you guys dating?” I waved my hands frantically. “No, I—” “No, I’m just accompanying Harper to breakfast,” Liam answered calmly. The art kids winked at me. “Got it. Nice work, Harper.” Liam gestured across the street. “Pumpkin porridge and potstickers?” At the shop, we sat across from each other. I scanned the QR code to pay before he could. “You’re my wingman,” Liam said. “I should treat you.” I grinned. “I need a favor.” Liam dropped his spoon. Soy milk splashed onto the table. “What do you need?” He grabbed a napkin. “Liam, can you tutor me in math?” “Tutor?” His hand froze. “Sure. When?” “Tonight? I’ll tell my mom to talk to yours. Come over for dinner.” I grabbed his hand and shook it. “Return the favor.” Liam’s hand tightened around the napkin. “Are you and your boyfriend long-distance? Can’t he help you?” “Huh? If you don’t want to, I’ll hire a college student…” “Study hall. After school.” “You won’t come to my house?” “No. Study hall.” “No way.” I slumped. “I need food to function…” Liam watched my dramatic sigh, barely suppressing a smile. “Fine. I’ll come to your house.” I was secretly thrilled. He suddenly leaned in. “How’s the grip?” “What grip?” I followed his gaze down. I was still holding his hand. Pale, long fingers, clean nails. Literally speaking… the grip was nice. I let go, patting his hand to cover my awkwardness. “It’s okay.” “Just okay?” Liam’s eyes darkened. “Then tell me, how should a hand be held to pass the test?” Nerd behavior. Even now, he was “studying.” Since he agreed to fix my math grade, I figured I’d teach him how to handle women. I laughed and interlaced my fingers with his, locking them tight. “This is the standard way.” Liam’s face exploded in red. I felt a weird satisfaction seeing him flustered. He took a few breaths. “That hurts.” “…” I let go. “I have a strong grip. Maybe your goddess is more delicate. Just practice.” His hand was red where I’d squeezed it. I frowned, afraid to look at his face. I was nervous, so I had squeezed too hard. “Is this how you hold your boyfriend’s hand?” Liam asked, flexing his fingers. I pouted. “So what if I do?” “Harper,” Liam said seriously. “Maybe you should practice too. That didn’t feel like holding hands. It felt like an interrogation technique.” “…Fine.” I grabbed his hand again. Looking at our locked hands on the table, Liam’s mouth curved into a barely visible smile.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389156”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am Jo Miller, and my daughter is the community’s golden girl, the poster child for filial devotion. Yet, on Christmas Eve, I signed the papers to legally sever our bond. The mediators from the local Family Services office rotated through, trying to talk sense into me. “Your daughter, Daisy, she’s devoted, Jo. Never gave you a moment’s worry growing up. She visits every other weekend, never comes empty-handed.” “What is wrong with you? You’ve got one foot in the grave, Jo, what in God’s name are you doing severing ties?” I stood my ground. I used a fireplace poker to drive Daisy out of the house. She wept, refusing to leave, and then, from the fourth-floor window of my old apartment, she threw herself out. I walked past her body. She was lying in a pool of blood, fingers frantically trying to clutch the hem of my jeans. I took a step back. “Try to bleed out somewhere else.” The neighbors couldn’t bear to watch. They called me a monster, wrapped me in a blanket, and drove me to the hospital. When Daisy woke up, intubated and broken, all she could do was whisper “I’m sorry” over and over again. I didn’t look at her. The next morning, I filed the final papers for the Petition for Familial Severance. 1 The Petition for Familial Severance hearing is straightforward. The petitioner asks three questions. If the respondent—the person being disowned—answers even one question correctly, the petition is denied. On the day of the hearing, Daisy was wheeled onto the platform by a kindly neighbor. She was skeletal, her face the color of wet plaster. Her hospital gown hung loosely on a frame of jutting bones. When she saw me, her voice was a rough whisper. “Mom…” I turned my head, refusing to meet her eyes. The Mediation Panel seemed annoyed by my callousness. Their pointed whispers and judgmental sighs drilled into my ears. “Silence,” the Judge’s voice was clipped. “The hearing is now in session. Joanne Miller, you will begin the questioning. Are you prepared?” I nodded. There was no preamble, no polite softening. I went straight for the throat. “My first question.” “Why did I first hit you?” Daisy’s eyes held a knowing, theatrical sadness. “Because I skipped school.” She sighed, her expression shifting to one of tragedy. “Dad had just been hospitalized in the ICU after his accident. We had no income. You were up all night, every night, so worried. I was trying to help, Mom. I was secretly skipping classes to work, and you caught me. You slapped me.” “Oh, that’s right! I remember that night. These old walls are thin. They were yelling so loud, my husband even went over to intervene.” “Skipping school is wrong, yes, but it came from a good place! She was trying to help her parents. No mother should hit her child for that.” “Exactly. Sweet Daisy was on the floor after that slap, shaking, but she pulled out five hundred dollars—money she’d earned—and begged her mother not to be angry. It broke my heart!” The murmurs, though low, were perfectly audible. I didn’t blink. I just spoke two words. “Pathetic.” The shockwave was instantaneous. Before Daisy could reply, the chorus of her defenders erupted. “Pathetic? Does this woman deserve to be a mother? Her daughter sacrifices her education to make money for the family, and you have the nerve to call it pathetic?” “She’s lucky to have such an angel! I say skip the trial. Grant the severance immediately before she bleeds her daughter dry in old age!” I gave a dry, humorless chuckle. “Fine by me. Let’s sever. It saves us all time.” But fear flashed in Daisy’s eyes. She lunged, sliding dramatically from her wheelchair, her face a streaked mess of tears and snot. “No… Mom, no, you can’t sever the bond…” Some people turned away, unable to watch; others glared at me with dagger-sharp contempt. The Judge looked down at Daisy, her expression pure pity. When they confirmed Daisy wasn’t injured from the fall, everyone sighed in collective relief. “Mom, that was the first time you ever hit me, the first time you ever lost your temper over my schooling. I never forgot it. After that, I was a model student. You drove me to and from school every day, even getting up at five a.m. for my last two years of high school. The only thing you ever talked about was my education.” She gazed at me, trembling. I said nothing, slowly turning my head to face the Judge. The Judge’s pity hadn’t yet left her eyes, but it instantly chilled when she glanced at me. She shuffled through her notes, pulling up the “obvious” answer, but her pupils narrowed sharply as she read the card. “The answer… the answer is… incorrect.” 2 “H-How is that possible? Mom, are you doing this on purpose? Are you trying to lie just so you can sever our ties?” Daisy furiously shook the wheels of her chair, turning to the Panel. “Mrs. Peterson, Mr. Harrison, you’ve been our neighbors for twenty years. You know what happened.” “They certainly do,” I cut in, my voice calm. “But Daisy, do you remember what happened in our home just before I first struck you?” Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and she spoke tentatively. “Dad was critically injured and in the hospital.” “That evening, I was mugged on my way home from evening study. When Dad found out, he confronted the guys, and they retaliated. They beat him into the ICU. It was my fault. I ruined him. After he was hospitalized, I didn’t want to live. I took an overdose of sleeping pills that night, and to be sure, I cut my wrists.” She pulled up her sleeve, exposing a web of hideous, jagged scars on her inner wrist. The tears finally spilled over. The low murmur of the Panel stopped, replaced by a heavy, profound wave of sympathy. I could feel my fingers starting to shake at the memory. I squeezed them into my palms, digging in my nails. Daisy’s voice was a plea. “Mom, you never left my side. You stayed up all night to watch me. You dragged me to every therapist and specialist in the city because you were terrified I’d hurt myself again. You told me you would sell the house, sell your blood, do anything, just to make me well.” “You loved me so much then… Why… why have you brought us here today?” Before she finished speaking, sniffles and muted sobs rose from the Panel. Everyone was moved by the tragic history of my daughter. All of the agony my husband and I endured for her was seen as a simple parental obligation. I remembered the day Rob was moved from the Critical Care Unit to a regular room. He squeezed my hand and begged me to take care of our girl. He made me promise so many things. I did every one of them. “So, Mom, after all that, what is your answer?” Daisy prompted, pulling me back to the present. “You were dating.” My answer was blunt. Daisy stared, speechless. Her high school guidance counselor laughed with disbelief. “Joanne Miller, you are an outrageous liar! Daisy was my student! Ours was an all-girls’ academy, you forget? For a mother to invent a sexual smear against her own daughter in a court of law… that is pure malice! Are you even her mother?” Everyone in the room fixed me with hateful, murderous stares. “Are you finished?” My voice was level. I turned my head slightly, catching Daisy’s face. “You tell them.” “Was it random thugs who put your father in the ICU, or was it your boyfriend, Mitch Sullivan?” 3 Daisy’s lips pressed into a tight line. She shook her head back and forth like a frantic metronome. She stammered. “I… I…” “Second question,” I cut her off coldly. “Why did I insist you attend a local university after high school?” The question wasn’t difficult. We lived in Boston. Most kids stayed local for the excellent colleges. The day she got her acceptance, the neighbors praised her for staying close to care for me. But was that the truth? With me and her teachers watching her, Daisy made it through high school. But in college, failing grades became the norm. She was facing expulsion. I swallowed my pride and went to a college friend I hadn’t spoken to in thirty years. I leveraged his connection to reach an obscure intermediary. That person led me to the Dean of Daisy’s department. I had no money, no connections of value. I just drove out to his home with baskets of fresh, small-farm produce and volunteered to clean his house, even helping to care for his bedridden mother. I constantly mentioned Daisy to him, painting her as a devoted, hardworking student who was distracted by having to care for her ailing father—a man in a vegetative state—and manage the household, using this as an excuse for her grades. Daisy’s fabricated “devotion” made the Dean relent. Afterward, I stayed on to care for his elderly mother, refusing payment. But the Dean was a good man; he started paying me a generous salary, enough to finally cover Rob’s staggering monthly hospital bills. He even took an interest in Daisy, offering her an internship and a place at the City Research Institute after graduation. I thought my years of sacrifice were finally paying off. But Daisy refused every one of the Dean’s job offers. The reason she gave? That my excessive control wouldn’t allow her to leave. She even managed to get me fired, losing my primary income, simply by casually mentioning in front of the Dean that I had scolded her for giving his mother too many potatoes, which she claimed I did out of spite. I looked at Daisy’s worried frown. I was genuinely curious how she would spin this. “You made me stay local because of your control issues. You wanted to keep me close.” Her voice was thick with manufactured injury. Large, fat tears dropped onto the floor, splattering onto the Panel’s hearts. “Mom, I’m an adult now. I have my own mind. I listened to you for twenty years, but I have my own family now, my own child. You can’t chain me up for the rest of my life…” Her eyes were red and fixed on me. She spoke each syllable with deliberate clarity. “Mom, I am not your accessory. I am my own person.” “Well said!” someone whispered, triggering a wave of hushed agreement. The looks directed at me twisted from suspicion and dissatisfaction to outright fury and disgust. The entire room supported her, and the weight of their judgment pressed down on me. I quickly glanced at Daisy, not pausing for a second. “Yes. You’re right.” Before she could smile, I continued. “But you’re only half-right.” Everyone, including Daisy, was confused. “I made you stay local, not to keep you close to me, but to keep you away from Mitch Sullivan.” I turned my gaze toward the corner of the room where he sat. Following my eyes, everyone else stared, too. The noisy whispers died instantly, replaced by a thick silence. Mitch Sullivan was no stranger. He was a local thug, known for dozens of petty crimes and violence. A born piece of trash. 4 “Hey! What the hell is that supposed to mean? You’re here to sever ties with your daughter! Leave me out of your crazy drama!” “Besides, I’m a changed man! Everyone rebels when they’re young. Your daughter isn’t fifteen, she’s thirty-five! She has the right to decide who she dates! What right do you have to interfere?” His words spewed out like machine-gun fire. I was here to sever ties with my daughter. I saw no reason to engage with a lowlife like him. Seeing my silence, Mitch gave a sneering, knowing “Ohhh.” “I get it now. You haven’t had any male attention in years, so you’re jealous your own daughter does. If you’re that desperate, Jo, go find someone! Don’t lock your daughter up just because you can’t stand seeing her happy.” A wave of titters and whispers ran through the Panel. They furrowed their brows at his crude words, but I saw them slowly nodding in agreement. Someone in the crowd chimed in. “She’s right! The mother slandered her daughter, claiming she was dating in high school, and she’s still interfering in college! She just can’t stand to see her daughter happy. Competing with your own child is disgusting.” “That mother is a control freak. This girl was totally messed up by that home, yet she still doesn’t want to sever ties! If it were me, I’d have cut her off years ago.” “I can tell by her face she’s the kind of mother who will sleep between the bride and groom on their wedding night.” Daisy just sat there listening, neither confirming nor denying, a calculated look in her eyes. The tidal wave of condemnation grew louder. I bit my lip, my fingertips curling. I tried to stand to defend myself, but the room went black, and I collapsed back into the sofa. Daisy was instantly at my side, her eyes red, her voice choked with sobs. “Please, please don’t say those things.” “Yes, my mother secretly hid Mitch’s boxers and tore up our photos, but she didn’t mean to hurt us! She’s just so lonely…” That one sentence launched me right into the eye of the storm. I was like a criminal in ancient times, paraded through the streets—cursed, spat on, and shamed by everyone. Someone in the chaotic crowd actually spat toward me. Daisy turned back to me, smiling sickeningly. She patted my hand, her voice syrupy sweet. “It’s okay, Mom. Everyone understands.” The curses, the mockery—it was all behind a thick pane of glass. I was alone, hearing only the frantic drumming of my own heart. Something inside me fractured in that moment. I violently shook off her hand, raising my voice to reclaim the space. “Daisy Miller, you also got the second question wrong.” The smile froze on her face. She quickly reverted to her pitiful, vulnerable look. “The final question,” I said, my hand trembling as I held the microphone. “Why have I not spoken a single word to you in ten years?” She didn’t hesitate. “Because I married Mitch Sullivan.” I shook my head slowly. “Yes, and no.” Daisy’s fingers clenched the armrests of the wheelchair. Her voice was laced with impatience. “What do you want, Mom? Are you going to be satisfied with anything I say?” “If Dad knew how you were treating me today, he would hate you.” The rigid wall I’d built up since entering the courtroom finally cracked. The tears I’d held back for so long flooded my eyes. With shaking hands, I pushed the button on the remote to play the security footage. Everyone gasped at the scene that appeared on the screen.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389172”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After seven years of marriage, Harrison Sterling’s trophy wife finally got bored. She turned to leave, dropping only one sentence behind her: “Harrison, I’ve cashed out enough. As for you? I don’t want you anymore.” I watched from the sidelines, cold and detached, waiting to see how long Harrison would tolerate it this time. After all, this scene had played out constantly over the last three years. But this time, his laugh was freezing. “Just a pet. Does she really think I’d keep her in my heart?” That was until the news broke shortly after: a car crash. No survivors. The man who had always been made of ice and steel instantly went mad. 1 After Bella died, Harrison acted like a man possessed. He locked himself in his study, refusing food or water. I went to knock on the door. The only response was a cold, singular command: “Get out.” I knew he was grieving. I wanted to apologize. But I shut my mouth, realizing how pathetic that instinct was. We hadn’t divorced yet. He was the one who cheated. He was the one who strayed. Why should I be the one to say sorry? I looked at the cold dinner on the table. The soup I had simmered for five hours had congealed, a layer of grease hardening on top. It smelled faintly of rot. I scraped it all into the trash compactor. Just like our twenty-year history. If I didn’t throw it out now, it would only fester and breed maggots. Disgusting to me, and disgusting to everyone else. On the eighth day, Harrison finally emerged. He had cleaned himself up, shaved, and returned to that untouchable, high-and-mighty persona. But the way he looked at me was darker than ever before. As if the death of the woman he loved was my fault. I stared back calmly, waiting for the verdict. I knew a storm was coming. We had known each other for years, married for seven. From prep school uniforms to wedding gowns, I always thought we were walking the same path. But halfway through the journey, someone decided to get off the train. I was forced to accept it. “Where is she?” Harrison’s voice was dead, void of any emotion. After a long silence, I answered softly, “Buried.” Harrison’s face went black instantly. His eyes locked onto me with intense hatred. “Elena Vance, who gave you permission to bury her?” “With your dirty hands, do you think… you… deserve… to touch her?” He gritted his teeth, enunciating every word with ferocity. I could feel it. If I wasn’t pregnant right now, he would have rushed over to strangle me. But I overestimated my position in his heart. The next second, I was pinned against the sofa. A large hand tightened around my throat, squeezing the last bit of air from my lungs. The world spun. Darkness encroached on my vision. Sounds faded into a buzz. His tone was manic. “You think just because you’re pregnant, I can’t touch you?” “A bastard child. Do you really think I care?” “Bella is dead. Don’t worry. You and the little mongrel in your belly are next.” The terror of suffocation made me try to beg for help, but his grip was iron. I couldn’t make a sound. I realized then: Harrison really wanted me dead. I don’t know how much time passed before the weight lifted. A massive slam of the door followed. Consciousness slowly returned. I sat there, dazed, on the sofa. I picked up my phone and scheduled an appointment at the clinic. 2 Harrison and I were childhood sweethearts, but we were also a merger. Our parents finalized the business partnership when we were three. We signed the marriage license before we even graduated college. Life after the wedding was harmonious, even happy. maybe it was his upbringing, but Harrison was desensitized to everything. He didn’t know how to yield, how to love, or how to say sweet things. But back then, he would prepare small surprises. On my birthdays, he would bake a cake himself. Then, like a magic trick, he’d produce the necklace I’d been eyeing for months, hugging me tight. “Elena, I’m not heartless. Just give me some time. I’ll learn how to love you properly.” “Don’t give up on me, okay?” Every time he said that, I would nod vigorously, whispering that we had a lifetime. In the heat of the night, he would press close to my ear, whispering intimate things that made my heart race. When did it change? Maybe the day Harrison met Bella. I had been sick the day before, so I couldn’t make it to a scheduled event. He went alone. Bella was the client’s assistant. Fresh out of college, radiating nervousness. A shy smile. Harmless. Cute. She didn’t know how to play golf, so she boldly asked Harrison to teach her. They exchanged numbers. From meeting to making it official, it took less than two weeks. Bella quit her job and moved to his company. Harrison kept her by his side, teaching her everything, meticulously cultivating her like a rose waiting to bloom. The funny thing is, I never even got the chance to confront her. Harrison hid her well. I tried to investigate, but found nothing. Instead, I faced his rage the next day. Once, I paid a fortune to get Bella’s personal file. Before I could make a move, a dossier on my father’s mistresses landed on my desk. And not just my dad. Every dirty secret of the Vance family was there. Harrison’s warning was clear: If I touched Bella, my family’s reputation would be destroyed instantly. That night, I smashed everything in the villa. Harrison just sat on the sofa, watching me destroy the room with total indifference. He looked at me like I was the crazy one. The irony is… Now he’s the one who’s lost his mind. 3 That night, just as I fell asleep, his assistant called me. “Ms. Vance, the CEO is at the cemetery. He’s… he’s trying to dig up the grave. Please, come talk to him.” I laughed. I was the wife Harrison brought home, yet everyone called Bella “The Missus” and me “Ms. Vance.” Ever since I decided to divorce him and ghosted the appointment, Harrison had announced on social media: Bella is the only wife I will ever recognize. After that day, I became the laughingstock of Manhattan. My lips curled into a smile, though my neck still throbbed with pain. “Call the Sterling family. Don’t tell me. It has nothing to do with me.” I hung up. I didn’t think Harrison was capable of grave robbing. Since he got together with Bella, we talked about divorce more often than we ate dinner. It never happened. Either I refused, or Bella called him away with some emergency. The last time was two months ago. Harrison offered me half his assets to sign the papers. I agreed. But the day before we were to sign, I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t show up. Harrison blew up my phone that day. That was also the day Bella left. Harrison’s grandfather found out and talked to him all night. Harrison might ignore everyone else, but he respected the old man. The next day, Harrison recalled all his private investigators. He stopped searching the world for her. We stopped talking. No one mentioned divorce. I thought, even if he didn’t care about me, he would care about the heir. Now I see that trying to trap a man with a child was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever done. The next day, I went to the clinic. I’m not a saint. I didn’t want to be a single mother. I could accept not being loved, but my child deserved to be born into a whole family. The procedure was quick. I was discharged that afternoon. Now that the baby was gone, divorce was just a piece of paper. Harrison hadn’t shown up once. He was scouring the earth for his little lover. He refused to believe Bella was really dead. 4 Seven years of marriage. My belongings weren’t many, but they weren’t few. I hired some workers and set up a fire pit in the backyard. Everything that could burn, I burned. The jewelry and bags I sold. I didn’t want to take a single thread from this villa. I didn’t want to leave a trace. Might as well burn it all. When Harrison returned, he saw me throwing our wedding portrait into the fire. I was surprised. I hadn’t seen him in a month; I assumed he’d committed suicide out of grief. Through the smoke, his eyes were freezing. He looked at me like I was a corpse. He was holding an urn in his arms. As he passed me, Harrison suddenly reached out and shoved me hard. If the butler hadn’t caught me, I would have fallen face-first into the fire. A chill shot up from my feet. Harrison was insane. He wanted to disfigure me as revenge. Harrison clicked his tongue, sounding disappointed. “Clean this up.” He turned to go upstairs. A nameless fire erupted in my chest. Harrison keeping a mistress? I tolerated it. Threatening my family? I tolerated it. Bella’s provocations? I tolerated it. A drunken night that forced a pregnancy on me? I tolerated that too. I endured it all for three years. Now he openly wanted me dead. I was done enduring. If that’s how it is, let’s all burn. I chased after him, grabbed Harrison’s arm, and spun him around. I slapped him with everything I had. His head snapped to the side. He stared back at me, his gaze lethal. Seeing the red handprint on Harrison’s face gave me a thrill of satisfaction. “Tomorrow morning at nine. The courthouse. Divorce.” “Bella’s death isn’t my fault. Don’t pour your dirty water on me. You know how I got pregnant. The reason I didn’t show up for the divorce was because your mother took me to the family estate.” “And your little lover? Your mother ordered the burial personally because she couldn’t stand seeing you act like a ghost. Don’t pin your daddy issues on me.” Harrison didn’t react to my explanation. I didn’t care if he believed me. It had nothing to do with me anymore. I made myself clear. As I left the Sterling villa, I thought about the question Harrison used to ask. Have you ever tasted the pain of losing your soulmate? Soulmate? Hah. How did I answer him back then? Oh, I remember. I said: “Harrison, you’ve been dead to me for a long time.” When two people are in love, they can’t see anyone else. The old me couldn’t see Bella. The current Harrison couldn’t see me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389157”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The moment my boss, Blake, flew out for his European business trip, the new intern, Sasha Bell, declared she was pregnant with his child. Claiming the throne by virtue of her “royal heir,” she was soon sprawled on the velvet sofa in Blake’s luxurious corner office, ready to establish her regime as the self-appointed “First Lady” of the firm. “First,” she announced to the assembled staff, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness, “No one is allowed to eat anything with a strong scent. I get violently ill from the smell of burnt microwave popcorn or takeout.” “Second, you are all to dedicate yourselves entirely to my needs. If I ask for something, it is non-negotiable and must be delivered immediately.” “Third, the AC is to remain completely off. The condenser unit outside is so loud it keeps me from taking my much-needed naps.” “If any of you can’t handle these simple demands, you can pack your desk and get out.” We tiptoed around her like we were walking on eggshells, terrified of provoking her, yet she found ways to make every minute a subtle torture. The breaking point came fast. I finally dialed Blake’s international number, ready to burn the bridge of my career and scream into the phone, “Can you please take your pregnant fiancéé home? She’s running this company into the ground!” But the response from across the Atlantic was not what I expected. Blake’s voice was laced with utter fury. “Pregnant what? Are you high, Ariel? I’m a single, grown-ass man, not a character in a bad soap opera!” 1 I had just dropped Blake off at the airport and was settling in for a much-deserved, greasy takeout lunch when my phone rang. It was Harper, my desk mate, her voice a low, panicked whisper. “Ariel, when are you coming back?” I stuffed a bite of my jumbo bagel into my mouth. “Thirty minutes, tops. What’s going on?” “You need to get back here now! Sasha Bell just announced she’s pregnant with the boss’s baby!” My jaw went slack. The bagel dropped from my hand, splattering cream cheese on the pavement. “Sasha Bell? The intern who started yesterday?” “She’s setting up her new set of office commandments right now!” I threw my car into gear. “Don’t panic. I’m on my way.” Honestly, I thought Blake was just being incredibly private. As his Executive Assistant, I had zero clue he even had a girlfriend. I remember thinking Sasha’s résumé was laughably thin for a position at our firm. Now, it all clicked into place. My only confusion was why he hadn’t given me a head’s up. Ten minutes later, I walked into a scene of corporate chaos. The entire staff, who should have been grinding away, was huddled in the main conference room. They were gathered in a tense semicircle, bent slightly forward, and I could hear a woman’s loud, imperious voice lecturing them. She had more gravitas than Blake ever did. I pushed through the crowd. Sasha was half-reclined on the leather sofa, one hand protectively on her lower abdomen. The moment she saw me, her eyebrows arched in annoyance. “Finally back? Did you know the entire company was waiting on you? Talk about entitled.” I quickly lowered my head, forcing a weak smile. “Sorry, the traffic on the I-95 was brutal.” She cut me off mid-sentence. “Consider your bonus for this month revoked.” I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth, but ultimately, I forced out an apology. Just yesterday, this woman was politely calling me “Ms. Chambers.” Now, our roles were completely reversed. If I messed this up, not only would the bonus be gone, but the job itself was on the line. And for all its ridiculous demands, this was the best-paying, best-benefit gig in the city. I wasn’t ready to let it go. Seeing my compliance, Sasha gave a satisfied smirk. “Since everyone is finally here, let’s go over the new rules.” The colleagues around me visibly tensed, their faces pale. Harper tugged on my sleeve, whispering just loud enough for me to hear. “Her rules… they’re insane.” “Listen up, everyone,” Sasha declared, her voice booming. “I am an expectant mother, and this is the future heir to Blake Carrington’s empire.” She dramatically patted her stomach. “Rule Number One: Lunch is canceled. No one eats in the building, period.” A collective gasp went around the room. I couldn’t stop myself from interjecting. “Sasha, everyone works incredibly hard. If we don’t eat—” I was instantly drenched. A full cup of scalding, fresh-brewed coffee was thrown in my face. “Who the hell are you to use my first name?” she spat. “From now on, you will address me as ‘Mrs. Carrington!’” The pain made my vision swim, and my body shook involuntarily. Sasha scoffed, pointing a finger at me. “Let this be a lesson to all of you. This is what happens when you cross me.” The sight of my burning skin terrified the rest of the staff into absolute silence. “Rule Number Two!” she shouted, puffing out her chest. “You are all here to serve me. If I tell you to go east, you do not even look west.” “Rule Number Three! All AC units must be off. The outside noise gives me migraines.” This time, no one dared to argue—not even me. I could already see a painful, angry red splotch forming on my forearm where the coffee had landed. “Did you hear me?” she demanded. “If you can’t manage it, you can all get out!” She shot me one final, warning glare. My colleagues rapidly nodded their heads, promising compliance. After she dismissed everyone, she kept me back. 2 “I hear you’re my fiancé’s executive assistant?” I managed a strained smile. “I mostly just organize Mr. Carrington’s files and handle logistics.” My answer clearly didn’t satisfy her. “Start by massaging my shoulders.” I went behind the sofa. “Is this pressure okay?” She lay back, eyes closed. “Look, I don’t want to be difficult, but Blake told me I have to assert myself now. If I don’t lay down the law with you working types, I’ll never have any authority.” She smirked. “But you wouldn’t dare object, would you? You all need this job to survive. And honestly, my requests aren’t that bad.” She snapped her eyes open. “Are they excessive?” I immediately shook my head, my face plastered with a fake grin. “Not at all, Mrs. Carrington. Perfectly reasonable.” Watching her tyrannical behavior, I had to seriously question Blake’s taste in women. Had years of high-stakes corporate life finally made him desperate enough to date… this? The rest of the morning was spent running errands like a personal valet. She demanded a fresh cup of coffee, then threw the porcelain mug across the room in disgust. “How did you ever get this job?” she yelled. “I asked for lukewarm! Don’t you know the difference?” I barely registered her complaints because the coffee had splattered all over Blake’s mahogany desk, soaking the critical documents laid out on top. My heart sank. “Mrs. Carrington, those are the Chandler Group merger contracts. They’re due in two days.” Even with my quick reflexes, the high-value paperwork was now stained a mottled brown. Sasha glanced at the mess, her tone utterly detached. “It’s just paper. Nothing is more valuable than the health of the baby in my womb.” She suddenly shouted at me, her eyes blazing. “You are to focus entirely on me, do you understand? You’re not even a good servant!” Stifling a wave of furious indignation, I asked, my voice slightly shaky, “Mrs. Carrington, that contract is genuinely important. Can I please take it out now to see if I can salvage the signatures?” She eventually agreed. But just as my hand reached the doorknob, she called me back. “Find two of the girls. I need a foot and leg rub.” I bit down hard on my lip. “Understood.” Stepping out, I was hit by the oppressive reality of the no-AC rule. The entire floor was a furnace. Every employee, supposedly hard at work, was frantically fanning themselves with notebooks and files. I froze, looking at the central AC unit—it wasn’t just off, someone had even unplugged and removed the power cord. My colleagues looked at me with desperate, pleading eyes. Before I could speak, Sasha emerged, clutching her belly. “Stop that right now!” Her cold gaze swept over us. “I told you I can’t have the noise of the AC unit. So, you’ve decided to make noise with your own petty flapping? Are you trying to deliberately provoke me?” Every single person immediately dropped their makeshift fans, their faces flushed with shame and heat. “You have succeeded in annoying me greatly!” 3 Sasha looked at me, a sneer on her face. “How did you ever become an executive assistant, Ariel? You clearly have zero management skills.” As I prepared to defend myself, she raised her hand and pointed to a handful of my sweat-drenched colleagues, singling them out. “You, you, and you. Stand up.” “Begin. Two hundred squats, right now!” “Excuse me?” The named colleague, a man named Eric, looked shocked, but tried to remain respectful. “Mrs. Carrington, we—” “Make that three hundred!” Seeing Sasha immediately escalate the punishment, they shut their mouths and started squatting. She clapped her hands and turned to me. “They’re being punished because their excessive fanning created noise. That’s your fault.” I looked at the employees, their faces streaming with sweat, groaning in misery as they worked out in the unbearable heat. “And now, you will do five hundred squats!” I pointed at myself, disbelief coloring my voice. “Me?” She scoffed. “Yes, you. You failed to manage the situation. You bear the most responsibility.” She suddenly narrowed her eyes. “Get started. Now.” I didn’t dare hesitate. I clasped my hands behind my head and dropped into a squat. She leisurely addressed the other employees. “Are you hot? Do you all feel so incredibly hot?” “Funny, I don’t feel hot at all.” My inner monologue screamed. Of course, you don’t feel hot! You were just lying on a silk-covered sofa in a climate-controlled office! But the words stayed trapped behind my clenched teeth. Sasha pulled a chair from the conference table and sat down, watching me struggle. “My baby—Blake’s future heir—is hungry!” She drummed her fingers on the chair arm. “What should we eat? Let’s see. I need that organic, hand-pressed green juice from the West Village. And a dozen Artisan Tiramisu bites from the French Patisserie downtown.” She patted my shoulder. “Tough job, Ariel, but my baby wants what it wants.” She then slowly sauntered back into the office. The second the door closed, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. But she instantly yanked the door open, sticking her head out. “Bring me two girls to rub my legs.” She reconsidered. “No, make it four. Gotta get the feet, too.” The door slammed shut. My colleagues looked at me with miserable expressions. “Ariel… what do we do?” One of the squatting employees was openly crying. “I have a project due to the client at 8 p.m. this evening. I haven’t saved anything yet. What are we going to do?” I gasped for air, checking my watch. Blake was still on the plane—calling him was impossible. “Just hold on, everyone! Blake lands at four o’clock! I’m going to tell him everything!” Right now, I was the biggest victim, and I was going to make sure he knew it. 4 After five hundred squats, I felt like I had lost half my body weight. I had to brace myself against a desk to keep from collapsing. But Sasha’s demands were a clear threat, and I couldn’t risk further delay. I stumbled out, my clothes drenched, and headed for the garage. I drove like a maniac, cursing Sasha out loud, and adding a few choice words for Blake as well. When I finally returned with the expensive, bespoke items, a new set of employees was inside her office being forced into servitude. I carefully set the food in front of her. She pouted, her voice strangely soft. “You look exhausted, Ariel. That was a lot of running around.” She patted the sofa beside her. “Sit down.” The sudden kindness made a knot form in my stomach. The instant I sat, Sasha grabbed the juice bottle and dumped the entire contents over my head. Before I could react, she upended the tiramisu container, letting the mushy, chocolatey cream slide down my face and suit. I shot to my feet. “What the hell are you doing?” She glared at me, her face venomous. “And you are supposed to be my fiancé’s assistant? Didn’t anyone tell you to handle a pregnant woman’s food with extreme care?” “This juice is lukewarm! It’s garbage! Even a dog wouldn’t touch it!” She hurled the empty container at me. “Go buy me new ones. Now!” My body was a disgusting mix of sweat, hot coffee, and now, spoiled gourmet dessert. When I didn’t move, her brow furrowed. “Are you deaf? I asked you a question. Do I need to fire you for you to understand?” I squeezed my hands into tight fists, quickly wiping the sludge from my face. I scooped up a handful of the ruined tiramisu from the floor, marched up to her, grabbed her jaw, and smeared the mess across her face and into her mouth. “You know what? I quit, you psycho!” The satisfaction was immediate and total. Sasha sputtered, choking on the cream. She shoved her hands against the sofa, gagging. Strands of juice-soaked hair stuck to her face, and a glob of cream was actually forced out of her nose. “You! You’re going to regret this! I’m going to have my husband ruin your life!” I adjusted my collar. “I’ll be waiting.” I spun on my heel and left the office. Harper ran up to me, her eyes widening in horror at my appearance. She started picking bits of dessert off my jacket, tears welling up as she pointed to Riley. “Riley’s stomach ulcer just burst. She’s throwing up blood.” I was stunned. “Why didn’t you call an ambulance?” Harper broke down completely. “Sasha wouldn’t let us! She said losing an employee would affect the company’s efficiency!” I rushed to Riley. Her face was ashen, her hair plastered to her forehead. She was curled into a small, tight ball. “Ariel, I’m so sorry…” “Hospital. Now.” Harper and I quickly helped her up, and several other colleagues rushed over to assist. After getting Riley settled in the ambulance, I drove back to the office. The place was a total disaster. The break room had been completely trashed, the microwave smashed into pieces. Harper told me Sasha was currently using Blake’s private shower in his office suite. She was probably getting ready for the next round of retribution. I checked my phone. 4:30 p.m. Blake had landed. Fire me? Not a chance. I’m doing it first. I called him, fury burning through my veins. “What the hell kind of woman did you pick up? Are you blind?” “Get your spoiled princess home! Sasha Bell is a menace who will drive your company into bankruptcy! You’ll be lucky to have a door left to close! And by the way, I QUIT!” There was a long silence on the line. I thought the connection had dropped. Finally, Blake shouted. “Ariel Chambers, are you losing your mind? Stop with the insane talk!” “I told you, I am not dating anyone! What do you mean, my girlfriend?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389173”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The world is just one big, hastily assembled stage, and everyone is faking it. And me? I’m shockingly mediocre. My dad is a Wall Street tycoon, yet I can barely do simple addition. My mom is an Oscar-winning actress, and I look like the definition of “plain.” My brother held his first solo art exhibition at age four, while at age five, I was still chasing him around drooling. Even our housekeeper, Mrs. Higgins, and our butler, Mr. Chen, were secretly retired legends in their fields. Luckily, they all spoiled me rotten. I eventually made peace with my mediocrity… Until one day, a viral “genius girl” showed up at our door, demanding I hand over my spot as the real heiress. Great. The other shoe I’ve been waiting for my whole life finally dropped. Chapter 1 I’ve always felt like an alien in this family. My dad, Richard Sterling, is a financial shark. My mom, Isabella Sterling, is an international movie star. But me? Average brain, average face. They say extremes breed opposites, and my brother, Ethan, is proof. He’s the complete package: launched his art career at four, joined MENSA at eight, and by fifteen was voted one of the “Top 10 Most Handsome Faces” globally. I wanted to be jealous. I wanted to crawl in the shadows and hiss. But in the end, I chose self-acceptance. After all, the gene pool can’t always produce winners. I was living my best “eat, sleep, do nothing” life. Until she showed up. The viral genius, Luna Davis. “The nurse at the hospital confessed on her deathbed! We were switched at birth. I am the true Miss Sterling!” “Look at you! You’re so… ordinary. How could you possibly be their daughter?” “Today, I’m taking back everything that belongs to me!” Luna stood alone in our foyer, but she had the energy of an entire army. Her confidence was so overwhelming that my whole family—no, me and the other family of three—fell into deep contemplation. My cold, distant Dad: “A switch?” My glamorous Mom: “How would I know? I was too busy counting stretch marks. Didn’t we hand the baby to Arthur?” My stoic brother, Ethan, stayed silent for three seconds before coldly dropping: “I was three.” Mom paused, then tried to deflect again. “But you loved holding the baby! You kept asking if you could share your ‘new toy’ with your little girlfriend, Nana.” “Nana wasn’t my girlfriend.” “But she called me ‘Mom’ every time she saw me…” I was sitting on pins and needles. Luna didn’t look too happy either. Seeing Mom and Ethan getting sidetracked, I stood up. “Dad, Mom, Ethan, look at my face. Then look at hers. Don’t we look more like a family?” I pointed at myself. I touched my painfully average face and nodded in agreement with Luna’s assessment. Growing up, Ethan got compliments like “Handsome,” “Striking,” “A carbon copy of Richard.” Me? I got: “She looks very… healthy.” Depressing. “And I’ve been a straight-A student my whole life! Top of the class! But from what I hear, she has always been at the bottom. She even bought her college degree!” Luna continued presenting her evidence. I lowered my head in shame. Since kindergarten, Ethan was always undeniably first. I was always indisputably last. One teacher didn’t believe I was hopeless and tried to tutor me privately. She ended up in the ICU with a stress-induced migraine. In her delirium, she held my hand and whispered: “What is the relationship between X and Y…?” I felt guilty. So, the night before the next exam, I stayed up all night memorizing the entire math textbook. The result? I became the first student in school history to fill the entire exam paper with correct formulas but get a score of zero because none of them applied to the questions. I went viral for a week. Thinking back on this, I looked at my parents and brother with a heavy heart. “Is it possible… that maybe you guys really are a family?” Dad fell into deep thought. Mom looked pensive. Ethan’s gaze turned heavy. Luna was still shouting: “Mom, Dad, don’t you believe me? I’ve been suffering out there for eighteen years! Now that I’m back, how can you not believe me?” Just as the atmosphere reached a boiling point, Mrs. Higgins, who had been standing in the shadows, spoke up. “Sir, Madam, Ethan, Miss Mia… actually, there is a technology called a DNA test.” Chapter 2 The DNA test process was smooth. The results would take a month. Luna wasn’t happy. She started arguing with the clinic staff. “Why do I have to wait a month?” “Because you have to wait in line like everyone else.” “Do you know who I am?” “A citizen.” “Who gave you the nerve to talk to me like that?” “The Constitution.” The clerk was deadpan. Luna was hopping mad. I was cringing so hard my toes curled. A crowd started to gather. I couldn’t watch anymore, so I went over and tugged her arm. “Let’s just wait. It’s only a month…” Luna shook me off. “Shut up! Of course you want to squat in my nest for another month! But I won’t give you the chance!” She grabbed the clerk’s lab coat. “I order you to get the results today, or face the consequences!” Chapter 3 The consequence was Luna getting a three-day detention for disturbing the peace. Three days later, she showed up at our door again. She demanded to move in, claiming she wanted to feel the “warmth of family” she had missed for years. Cold Dad: “Mrs. Higgins, prepare a room.” Luna cried tears of joy. “Mom and Dad have already accepted me in their hearts! This is wonderful. From now on, I’ll be by your side every day.” She shot me a provocative glare and announced loudly: “I’m going to make up for all the lost time!” I turned away, trying to keep a straight face. Make up for lost time? Since I can remember, I woke up every day in a 5,000-square-foot mansion and ate breakfast at a 20-foot-long table. The only consistent members of the household were Mrs. Higgins, Mr. Chen, Ethan (on weekends), and the two Dobermans in the yard. “Lonely, Cold, and Empty” were the tags of my childhood. As a teenager, my favorite hobby was looking up at the sky at a 45-degree angle, posting melancholic updates like “Money can’t buy love” on Instagram. That stopped the year Ethan screenshotted my posts, blew them up to poster size, and played them as a slideshow during Thanksgiving dinner. I didn’t want to relive that social death. I felt a pang of sympathy for Luna. Her dream was doomed. But my glamorous Mom laughed delightedly, clapping her hands. “That’s wonderful! I also want to make up for lost regrets! You’re so pretty; I’m going to dress you up like the most stunning princess!” Stunning princess? Ethan and I simultaneously took a step back. We looked at each other, wanted to speak, but decided against it. … “I have so many beautiful clothes that no one wears. Finally, I have a model!” “Mom, if you want, I’ll be your model forever!” “Really? Oh, you’re so sweet. I’m going to cry.” Luna was basking in the attention. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “Mom, didn’t you ever dress up… her?” “I guess not. Since she’s not your real daughter, you wouldn’t be as close…” “Just like those dogs outside. Only a real mother and child have that bond. Fakes can never be real!” Luna was waxing poetic. “Look at how the dogs lean on each other… it mirrors our family…” I couldn’t help it. “Rex and Buster are both male.” Luna froze. Me: “And they were neutered ten years ago.” Luna’s face went through a rainbow of colors. But soon, she recovered her smug expression. Mom excitedly dragged her upstairs. Before leaving, Luna gave me a victorious look. She didn’t notice the pity in my eyes. Good luck, girl. Chapter 4 Lunchtime. Four people at the table. Me, Ethan, Mom, and… Her. She looked like a walking explosion of dopamine dressing. A massive ballgown, heavy jewelry, and a towering hat. Not high fashion—just high. I looked at Luna, who was balancing an eight-layer cake decoration on her head and painted white like a Victorian ghost. My sympathy reached new heights. Growing up, Mom tried to turn me into a doll. But my mediocrity and laziness always defeated her. Ethan inherited Dad’s “death glare,” which shut Mom down instantly. Mom had suppressed her urge for years. Now, the dam had broken. I watched Luna, who couldn’t sit down because of her corset, trying to eat while standing. She tried to take a bite, and lead powder from her face fell into her soup. Ethan: “It’s not Christmas. Why is there a tree at the table?” Pfft. I laughed. Mom pouted. “Doesn’t she look beautiful? Like a doll…” Ethan: “Dolls don’t need to breathe. She looks like she’s about to pass out.” Mom looked guilty and checked on Luna. I don’t know what possessed Luna, but facing Mom’s concern, she forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “No, I’m fine.” “Don’t force it,” I advised kindly. She didn’t appreciate it. “You wouldn’t understand. A parent’s love is heavy like a mountain. This isn’t a burden; it’s the weight of their love!” As soon as she said “weight of love,” a crisp crack echoed in the room. Luna’s expression twisted. She started to shake. Finally, the weight of the eight-layer hat won. She toppled backward with a deafening crash. Chaos ensued. Indeed. Parental love is heavy as a mountain.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389158”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel