Category: English

1 At my career’s breaking point, my manager and boyfriend, Nolan, told me to gain twenty pounds in two weeks to land an Oscar-bait role. I showed up hopeful, but the director sighed. “Your acting is incredible, Avery, but the character is severely emaciated. You’re all wrong.” My stomach dropped. Before I could text Nolan, I saw him across the room, smiling triumphantly at my rival. She got the role—simply because she was thinner. When Nolan met my gaze, his smile vanished. He rubbed his nose, looking exhausted. “Serena is in her prime for awards season. She needs this more than you. Your acting is too good; I had to trick you into gaining weight to let her win.” He delivered the final blow without pause. “And you’ve begged me to marry you for years. Now that you’re too heavy to book roles, we can finally settle down.” There was no romance, no vow. His eyes darted to Serena, his first love, standing nearby. I realized I was just a placeholder, a warm body waiting for her return. I laughed bitterly, slid the silver ring off my finger, and said calmly, “Forget the wedding. We’re done.” The silver ring hit the floor and rolled under a leather casting couch. Nolan’s face darkened with immediate fury. “Are you expecting me to beg you to stay in front of her? Is this your way of proving you matter?” I opened my mouth. “No…” He held up a hand, his eyes burning with impatience. “Save the excuses. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me tonight, drunk and begging to get back together.” I gripped the hem of my oversized sweater. My cheeks burned with a humiliating heat, worse than if he had slapped me across the face in front of a live audience. Serena gently tugged at his sleeve. “Nolan, I told you not to speak to women like that. Avery, he’s just blunt, he doesn’t mean any harm, please don’t be mad at…” Nolan grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door. “Don’t waste your breath on her. Didn’t you need to go to wardrobe for your fittings?” They walked out without a single backward glance. The chemistry between them was palpable. They moved in sync, looking exactly like the leaked paparazzi photos from their romance years ago. It was as if they had never broken up at all. Someone in the casting room recorded the entire exchange. An hour later, it was posted online by an anonymous burner account. Once again, my body became the internet’s favorite punching bag. [Good lord, her body has completely let itself go. Does she know she’s an actress? Is she prepping for a role as a slaughtered pig?] [Seriously, she just blew up overnight. Zero work ethic. Could she not put the fork down for five minutes? Look at how elegant Serena Blair is!] I was born with a metabolism that punished me for breathing. The first time I was ruthlessly fat-shamed by the internet years ago, I fell into a severe depression. I had to take steroid medications just to function, which only made my weight spiral further. Directors laughed me out of rooms. I was ready to quit acting entirely. That was when Nolan pushed his way through a crowd of executives mocking me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of the building. He looked at my tear-streaked makeup and told me, “The world is already looking down on you. Are you going to bully yourself, too?” From that day on, he was my guiding light. I followed him, trusted him implicitly, and fell deeply in love with him. He knew exactly how agonizing my journey had been. He knew how much faith I placed in him. And today, he took that faith and crushed it under his heel. My phone buzzed. It wasn’t a text from him. It was a flood of direct messages from my top fan accounts, begging me to fire my manager. They had been telling me to drop Nolan since the very beginning, ever since my styling and roles started tanking. I used to brush it off, blindly believing that as long as my acting was solid, I could elevate any terrible script he handed me. But now, the label of “the ugly, toxic supporting character” had been permanently glued to my forehead, bleeding over into my real life. 2 I finally realized how pathetic my confidence was compared to the brutal reality he had orchestrated to elevate Serena. My assistant, Jess, let out a heavy sigh from the passenger seat of my car. “Stop reading the comments, Avery. Look, I already enrolled you in an elite weight-loss boot camp.” I took a deep breath, staring out the rain-streaked window. “Cancel it. Didn’t the agency want to pivot me to the international market? Tell Director Davis I accept his offer.” Jess whipped her head around, her jaw dropping. “But that’s a massive global franchise! You’ll be shooting on a closed set overseas for two years. What about you and Nolan?” “There is no me and Nolan,” I cut her off smoothly. “From now on, my life has absolutely nothing to do with him.” The head executives at my agency were thrilled when I agreed to the international pivot. To build up my underdog narrative, they intentionally left all the fat-shaming hashtags trending on Twitter. Thankfully, my mental armor was infinitely stronger than it used to be. The insults barely registered. I was sitting in the agency’s conference room, filling out my international transfer and visa applications, when the door violently crashed open. Nolan stormed in, his face red with fury. “I told you guys when I signed on that we do not buy negative PR for Serena! The entire internet is calling her a manipulative homewrecker right now!” His tirade choked off the second he realized I was sitting at the table. A flash of awkward guilt crossed his face. The rumor was that after Nolan and Serena broke up years ago, our agency spent a fortune to poach him. They agreed to a massive list of unequal demands. I just hadn’t realized that one of those demands was a protective clause for Serena. Looking back, it all made sickening sense. Whenever I needed good PR, he threw me to the wolves. He bought negative trending topics about my weight, my face, my personality, leaving them up for days. When I was doxxed and stalkers showed up at my front door, he didn’t show a single ounce of sympathy. Just like now. We were both getting dragged online, but his eyes were only looking out for her. A soft, mocking chuckle escaped my lips. His face instantly hardened into a scowl. “The executives promised me they wouldn’t touch her. So this was your doing, wasn’t it?” “You’re mad that I gave the role to her, so you rallied your toxic fanbase to call her a homewrecker? You’re spinning a narrative that she’s using me to sabotage your career?” I furrowed my brow. Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, his phone rang. I caught a glimpse of the screen. Serena. He answered it on the first ring. It was a courtesy he had never extended to me, not even the night I was being chased down a highway by deranged stalkerazzi and called him for help in tears. “Nolan!” Serena’s voice was frantic on the other end. “Someone leaked photos of you and Avery on a date! Everyone is saying I’m the other woman! They’re calling me a mistress!” “She won’t stop crying,” her assistant yelled into the background. “She’s threatening to jump off the balcony to prove her innocence!” In that split second, the color drained from Nolan’s face. His knees physically buckled. He glared at me, his eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. “You are a vicious, evil woman. You’re so desperate to ruin her that you’d set your own career on fire!” He didn’t give me a chance to speak. He stumbled backward and sprinted out of the room. The executive sitting across from me let out an uncomfortable sigh. “We didn’t buy those trends. Do you want me to…” I forced a polite smile. “No need. Let him think whatever he wants. I’m leaving anyway.” The executive nodded silently and collected my transfer paperwork. Less than three minutes after I walked out of the conference room, my phone chimed with a notification from Twitter. I opened the app. Nolan had just quote-tweeted the viral photo of us on a date. [Avery and I have never been in a romantic relationship. We are strictly colleagues. Serena Blair and I never broke up. Any romantic marketing involving Avery Sinclair was purely a studio-mandated PR strategy. There is no infidelity involved.] My chest seized. It felt like an invisible fist was crushing my lungs. When Nolan first became my manager, Serena’s rabid fanbase accused me of being the homewrecker who ruined their fairy-tale romance. When paparazzi finally caught us kissing a year later, the hatred multiplied tenfold. I endured a solid year of brutal cyberbullying. It got so bad the agency begged us to just go public and clear the air. 3 But Nolan always refused. He always used my career as an excuse, claiming a public relationship would ruin my marketability. He stood by and watched as millions of people called me a slut, a mistress, a home-wrecker. And now, he freely handed the public declaration of love that I had bled for over to his ex. He permanently branded me with the “mistress” label just to protect her. In that moment, I finally understood that true love knows no obstacles. The only obstacle was that he simply didn’t love me. The agency couldn’t control him anymore. They immediately moved to assign me a new manager and drafted a statement to sever all ties with him. But when it came time to hand over my portfolio, Nolan suddenly slammed the brakes. “I’ve managed her for years! No one knows her career trajectory better than I do!” The sudden 180-degree shift in his attitude was laughable. It only cemented the fact that I was nothing but a tool he needed to keep in his back pocket. I stared at him, my eyes empty, filled with nothing but profound numbness and exhaustion. “No. I know my own trajectory.” He flinched. He clearly hadn’t expected me to speak to him with such cold authority. In the past, whenever the agency suggested switching managers, I was the one who fought against it. I wanted to stay close to him. I willingly kept myself chained to him. But now that my spine was made of steel, he was completely powerless. Sensing the tension, the executive slid my international transfer forms across the table. “Look, the reality is, Avery is leaving the country…” Nolan frowned deeply. He reached out to grab the papers. My eyes narrowed. I stepped directly into his path, blocking his hand. “I am in control of my own career from now on. If you refuse to hand over the files, I will build a new portfolio from scratch.” I grabbed the papers, folded them neatly, and handed them back to the executive. I shook my head slightly. As I turned to walk away, Nolan raised his hand, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to grab my wrist. I side-stepped him effortlessly. After the disastrous meeting, I went back to my apartment and started packing my life into boxes. As I was folding clothes, my phone buzzed. A text from him. [Her mental health is incredibly fragile. I was just calming her down. Don’t overthink this.] In a sea of green text bubbles, this was the first time in an entire month he had initiated a conversation that wasn’t strictly about work schedules. And yet, it was still revolving around Serena. Whenever I texted him for comfort, whenever I needed a shoulder to cry on or just a shred of affection, his standard response was always the same three words. [Toughen up, Avery.] I didn’t immediately call him back in tears. I didn’t beg for his attention or try to explain my side of the story like I used to. What was the point? A few minutes later, the electronic lock on my front door beeped rapidly with several failed passcode attempts. My heart skipped a beat. I pulled up the security camera feed on my phone and saw him standing in the hallway. The tension in my chest evaporated. All that was left was a hollow, empty void where my expectations used to be. Our passcode was our anniversary date. He had been coming to this apartment for five years and still couldn’t remember it. Yet, when he needed to log into a social media account he hadn’t touched in two years, he remembered Serena’s birthday as the password in less than a minute. I put my packing tape down and opened the front door. His eyes were laced with genuine anxiety. “Why didn’t you open the door? I thought something happened to you.” I found the whole situation hilarious. “What could possibly happen to me? You said it yourself, I’m tough.” He frowned, the fleeting guilt in his eyes vanishing instantly. “Look, I found out Serena’s PR team bought those trending hashtags. I didn’t have all the facts, and I shouldn’t have accused you. That’s on me.” “But there is absolutely no need for you to be this petty and sarcastic. She only broke up with me back then because her management forced her to. There is nothing going on between us now.” “That statement on Twitter? She posted that using my phone. By the time I saw it, the damage was done. I already told you, we can get married right now. You really need to let this go.” I stared at the poorly concealed impatience swimming in his eyes. 4 I finally spoke. “So, if you two had never broken up, is this how you would talk to her? Would you demand she marry you without a shred of romance or a proper proposal?” He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly irritated. “That doesn’t matter. You’re in a critical phase of your career right now, you shouldn’t…” My chest contracted violently. Before he could finish his sentence, I raised my hand and slapped him directly across the face. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “You knew I was in a critical phase of my career, and you still manipulated me into gaining twenty pounds!” “You’re right. None of it matters. Whether your pathetic excuses were meant to protect me or because you’re still obsessed with her, it doesn’t matter. Because we are broken up.” “Now get the hell out of my apartment. I never want to see your face again.” His eyes widened, rimmed with a furious, humiliated red. It was the first time in five years I had ever kicked him out. He slammed the door behind him, spitting out one final, venomous threat. “You’re going to regret this!” For five years, I had bent over backward to accommodate his every mood. We had never been at each other’s throats like this. So, when he realized I was no longer his submissive, easy-to-control puppet, he resorted to the dirty tactics he usually reserved for his enemies. My interim manager told me I had to attend a high-end charity gala that evening. But when I arrived, I realized I had been tricked. It was a sleazy, low-tier corporate networking mixer. A yacht party where actresses were treated like eye candy. Nolan and Serena were sitting on either side of the wealthy studio executives. My new manager gently pushed me into the private room. “Your resources are being downgraded, Avery. You aren’t bringing in money right now. Nolan said if you can handle the drinking for Serena tonight, he’ll secure a great script for you.” Back when I was a nobody clinging to Nolan’s roster, I couldn’t book any good roles. My lack of income meant his performance bonuses tanked. To make sure I didn’t drag his career down, I secretly agreed to attend one of these shady investor banquets. It started with just drinking on behalf of the executives. But as the night dragged on, several men cornered me and started force-feeding me liquor. I tried to run, but the VIP doors were deadbolted. They pinned me down, their hands wandering all over my body. Right as I was about to give up all hope, Nolan kicked the heavy wooden doors off their hinges, grabbed a fire axe from the hallway, and smashed the mahogany dining table cleanly in half. His eyes were bloodshot as he pulled me into his chest, shielding me from the room. He drove me home, screaming at me the entire ride, calling me an idiot with no brain. He told me that these drinking banquets almost always ended in hotel rooms. He yelled until I stopped responding. Bright red blood had started spilling past my lips like water. That was the first time I ever saw genuine, unfiltered terror on his face. From that day forward, I was banned from attending any event that required alcohol. Seeing me frozen in the doorway, Serena smiled brightly and walked over. “Oh, this is all my fault. I told the investors my alcohol tolerance is terribly low, but I didn’t want to disrespect them. Nolan remembered you could hold your liquor, so he called you in.” “You don’t mind, do you? Really, we’re doing this to help you network for new roles.” I stared at the smug, provocative gleam in her eyes. Surprisingly, I felt entirely at peace. It was fine. I would drink the poison tonight. Because after tonight, every single debt, every ounce of history between Nolan and me, would be permanently erased. I picked up a heavy crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquor. I locked eyes with Nolan, watching the sudden, nervous tension ripple across his face. “Thank you all for this wonderful opportunity.” The cheap, high-proof alcohol burned down my esophagus like battery acid. I wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye and poured myself a second glass. “But for this next round…” Before I could finish, Nolan practically lunged out of his chair, snatching the glass from my hand. His brow was furrowed in deep, angry lines. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “If you can’t drink, then don’t! Do you always have to be this stubborn? Would it kill you to just admit you need me?” I smiled. I opened my mouth to speak, but a violent, metallic clattering erupted from the ceiling above us. Before any of us could look up, the entire room lurched into a violent, terrifying sway. The floor dropped out from under my heels, sending my head spinning. 5 With a heavy thud, I crashed onto the marble floor. Piercing screams erupted from the hallway outside the VIP suite. “Earthquake! It’s an earthquake! Run!” Nolan grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. He threw his arm around my waist, preparing to drag me toward the exit. But from behind us, Serena’s voice pierced the chaos. “Nolan! My legs… my legs won’t move! I’m so scared!” In that split second, without a single micro-expression of hesitation, he let go of my hand. “She was in a severe earthquake as a child. She has crippling claustrophobia, I can’t just leave her here.” “You need to get out on your own. If you can’t make it to the stairs, find cover! I promise I’ll come back for you!” Without waiting for a response, he scooped Serena up into his arms and sprinted past me, vanishing into the panicked crowd. I struggled to push myself up off the floor. But with a deafening crack, the massive crystal chandelier detached from the ceiling and slammed directly into my shoulder. Nolan had glanced over his shoulder right as it happened. The momentary hesitation in his eyes vanished as quickly as it appeared. He disappeared into the dust and the screaming, taking my consciousness with him. … When I finally woke up, the sterile smell of a hospital room filled my lungs. Jess was sitting by my bed, her eyes red and puffy. The earthquake hadn’t been catastrophic. The hotel suffered minimal structural damage, and there were barely any casualties. The most severely injured person in the entire building was me, knocked unconscious by a cheap light fixture. The emergency rescue teams were the ones who pulled me out of the rubble. Jess looked at me, her mouth opening and closing. I knew exactly what she wanted to say. Nolan never came back. He was busy comforting Serena. On Instagram, I saw the photo they posted. Their hands tightly intertwined. The caption read: [No matter how much time passes, my heart will always choose you first.] I didn’t feel the soul-crushing grief or the fiery rage I expected. I only felt a profound sense of relief. My heart, which had spent five years sprinting to keep up with his, could finally beat for itself. I looked at the nightstand. Sitting next to my water cup was a first-class ticket for an overseas flight. “Let’s go,” I whispered. Jess helped me out of the hospital bed. We took a private car straight to the international terminal. Right before I stepped into the security checkpoint, a text from Nolan popped up on my screen. [Why aren’t you in your hospital room? Stop running around. I hired a private specialist to give you a full-body scan.] Staring at the message, I felt absolutely none of the pathetic, desperate joy I used to feel whenever he showed me a breadcrumb of attention. I smiled, hit block, and permanently deleted his contact. I popped the SIM card out of my phone and tossed it into a trash can. I had already set up a new international number. Nolan Cross. I am so incredibly tired of playing your twisted game of cat and mouse. From this moment on, I will never haunt your world again. Nolan gripped his phone, pacing the hallway outside Avery’s hospital room. He had been waiting for twenty minutes, but she hadn’t replied. In the past, the moment he sent a text checking up on her, she would immediately call him back, her voice thick with happy tears. Even when she was buried in script readings, she made her assistant reply instantly. But ever since that disastrous casting call, the dynamic had subtly shifted. It planted a dark, unsettling seed of panic in the pit of his stomach. Someone gently tapped his shoulder. He spun around, assuming it was Avery. “Where the hell did you go? Stop running…” The spark of relief in his chest instantly flatlined when he saw Serena standing there. A heavy, unexplainable wave of disappointment washed over him. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay in your suite and rest. The lobby is swarming with paparazzi and stalkers, what if they get a photo of you?” Serena’s eyes grew glassy with tears. “It’s fine. I wasn’t really hurt anyway. I just felt so alone in that big room… and I wanted to check on Avery. I need to apologize to her. If I hadn’t cried out for you, she wouldn’t have been crushed by that chandelier.” Nolan’s immediate instinct was to say Avery was fine. She was built tough. During action sequences, she refused to use stunt doubles to save the studio money. She took hits, cuts, and bruises without ever complaining. To the rest of the world, she was made of iron. But whenever she was alone with him, she would pout and show him her bruises. Even when he gave her the cold shoulder, she would whine until he was forced to pat her head and comfort her.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440316”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On graduation day, Darryl was set to propose to Harper—until she vanished, leaving him a text and me a note: “I’m giving him to you.” Watching him frozen on the quad, ring in hand, I blurted out, “I’ve loved you since high school, even before Harper noticed you.” Admitting I’d secretly followed his every move for seven years, I asked, “Could you please…?” Darryl stared, then took the ring meant for her and slid it onto my finger. The next day, we moved into a damp basement. For three years, he worked himself to death, becoming CEO of Darryl Innovations. But on move-in day for our new estate, he stood at the door, hand-in-hand with Harper, blocking me. “I’m bored of you,” he said flatly. “I slept with you for three years. It’s over.” “What did you just say?” I stood there gripping the handle of my heavy suitcase, staring at him in complete disbelief. The wind howled past my ears, creating a deafening buzz in my skull. He squeezed Harper’s hand tighter, his brow furrowing with obvious impatience. “Over the last three years, I have wired a total of three million dollars into your bank account. We are done here. You are walking away a rich woman, so do not act like you lost out.” My vision blurred. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart out by the roots, leaving behind a bloody, gaping hole. So my seven years of silent devotion and my three years of bleeding by his side to build his empire… In his eyes, it was all a transactional service worth exactly three million dollars. I lowered my head. Teardrops violently splashed against the hard plastic shell of my suitcase. He had absolutely no idea. That suitcase held every single thing I owned in this world. He also had no idea that just an hour ago, his executive assistant called me in a blind panic. Darryl Innovations had suffered a catastrophic break in their funding chain. I had just wired every single penny of that three million dollars straight back into his corporate account to save him. Harper stepped forward, a perfectly manufactured look of guilt plastered across her flawless face. She reached out to grab my wrist. “Anna, I am so, so sorry.” “I just could not bear living my life without him…” I violently yanked my arm out of her grip. “Then why did you abandon him three years ago?!” “Why did you text me saying you were giving him to me?!” “Why…” Why did you have to come back now? Before the rest of my furious grief could leave my lips, a blinding, explosive sting erupted across my cheek. My vision fractured into a blur of spinning colors. It took several agonizing seconds for the world to pull back into focus. When it did, I saw Harper hiding her face against Darryl’s chest, sobbing pitifully. “I never should have reached out to you when I got back to the States. I just could not control my heart.” She wept, her voice trembling. “This is all my fault. I should just leave.” Darryl gently cradled her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears as he whispered sweet comforts. “How could this possibly be your fault?” “I was the one who lost control the second I saw you at that hotel. I was the one who claimed you.” “I forced you to face your feelings for me, and I forced you to confront Anna. I do not love her. Why should we be miserable just to appease her?” His naked confession felt like a poisoned arrow tearing straight through my sternum. The agonizing pain radiated down to my fingertips. All the blood drained from my face as I stumbled a step backward. Darryl shot me a look of pure, venomous disgust. “Get lost.” Just like that, I was tossed out like a piece of garbage he no longer had any use for. The light drizzle quickly morphed into a violent, freezing downpour. I stood on the pavement until my entire body went numb, before finally dragging my suitcase away in absolute disgrace. Without even realizing it, my feet carried me straight back to the damp basement apartment we rented three years ago. I collapsed onto the cheap mattress, completely stripped of my strength. I do not love her. I do not love her. Those words circled my brain like a relentless, mocking curse. My fingernails dug so deeply into my own arms that they left bloody trails across my skin, but it was not enough to distract me from the suffocating agony in my chest. Just as I felt like I was literally going to die, my phone buzzed. It was my mother. “Anna, sweetheart. Stop wandering out there on your own.” “I found a really nice young man for you to meet. A blind date. Are you willing to give it a try?” I gripped the phone like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft, swallowing hard to force my voice steady. “Okay. I will come home as soon as I can.” Sometime later, a thick, burning haze completely took over my mind. Through the violent fever dreams, I felt a pair of strong, familiar arms wrap tightly around my shivering body. Darryl’s smooth voice drifted into my ear. “I knew you would come hide here.” “Does your face still hurt?” He tightened his grip, burying his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. “Anna, I just cannot swallow my pride. Give me three months. In three months, I am going to make her deeply regret the way she abandoned me without a word.” “When those three months are up, I will clear all this toxic garbage out of my heart, and I will marry you.” His body was radiating heat, but hearing those words made my blood run entirely cold. Darryl was raised by a widowed mother who collected scrap metal just to put him through college. After graduation, this miserable basement was the only place we could afford. Every single item in this room was something I had hunted down on clearance. I remembered the day I managed to snag a bulk pack of toilet paper on a massive discount. I showed it to him like I had just won the lottery. “Look, Darryl! I saved us another eighty cents today!” His eyes were glued to a coding interface on his laptop. He suddenly turned, grabbed my waist, and buried me in a fierce, crushing hug. “Anna. Harper didn’t believe in me. Do you?” “I swear to god, I am going to build an empire and give you the life you deserve.” His embrace back then was scalding hot. It felt like it could burn me alive. “I believe in you, Darryl. I only believe in you.” His kisses came down like a violent, desperate storm. “My sweet Anna. You are too good to me.” We were dirt poor, but the sheer sweetness of those days felt like it was overflowing from my heart. I honestly believed he worked himself to the bone for three years just to fulfill the promise he made to me. Now, the humiliating truth finally set in. He was just biding his time. He was waiting for Harper to come back so he could stand before her as a king. Silent tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, soaking into the cheap pillowcase. A violent shudder ripped through my spine. Darryl anxiously pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. “Did you catch a fever in the rain?” Watching him climb out of bed with that familiar urgency, digging through the cabinets for the first aid kit and plugging in the electric kettle, a heavy sense of disorientation washed over me. Over the last three years, aside from proudly introducing me as his girlfriend to the public, he had played the role of the perfect partner. When we were starving, he would pick the only pieces of meat out of his soup and place them in my bowl. When my heels were covered in bleeding blisters from running across the city to promote our startup, he would carry me on his back all the way home, carefully apply ointment, and soak my feet in warm water. When he stayed awake for three consecutive nights to finalize a pitch deck, he still forced himself out the door to buy me a birthday cake. He was always making promises. “Anna, the second my business stabilizes, I am putting a ring on your finger.” But when that day actually arrived, all I got was the brutal truth. “Slept with you for three years. Bored of it.” “I do not love her.” “Get lost.” My vision was swimming. Was he truly putting on this cruel act just to punish Harper, or was he just completely, hopelessly still in love with her? Darryl’s phone shattered the silence. He was just about to hand me a mug of hot water. Hearing that specific ringtone, he immediately set the mug down on the nightstand, practically ripping his trench coat off the hook as he yanked the front door open. “Anna, there is a thunderstorm outside. You know Harper gets terrified of the thunder when she is alone in that massive house.” I clung to my last, pathetic shred of hope. “Darryl… I am scared too.” I wanted to scream that I was the one who was terrified of thunder. Back in high school, during a massive summer storm, I hid under my blankets, shaking like a leaf. Harper had laughed at me, purposely throwing the bedroom windows wide open so the thunder clapped right next to my ears. “Do not be such a coward,” she had teased. “It sounds just like war drums.” But hearing my plea, Darryl’s face darkened with severe disappointment. He only paused for a fraction of a second. “Anna… I always thought you were the understanding one.” Understanding. That single word violently shoved all my desperate hopes right back down my throat. Hearing the heavy metal door slam shut, a broken, bitter laugh escaped my lips. My body was burning with a dangerously high fever. I weakly reached out to grab the mug of water he left behind. My trembling fingers slipped. The ceramic mug crashed to the concrete floor, shattering into a dozen jagged pieces. Just like the ten years of love I had completely wasted on him. Staring at the angry red blisters rapidly forming on the back of my scalded hand, I murmured to the empty room. Darryl. You abandoned me twice in one day. I do not want you anymore. I am done taking care of you. Using the absolute last ounce of strength in my body, I unlocked my phone and dialed my bank’s elite client hotline. “I need to issue an immediate freeze on the five million dollar corporate wire transfer I authorized earlier today.” The next time that rusted metal door opened, three days had passed. Harper stood in the doorway, her eyes scanning the cramped room with undisguised disgust. “Anna, do you want to know the real reason I dumped Darryl back then?” “I just refused to rot in a dark, pathetic little hole like this.” My fever had finally broken. I calmly shut my laptop and met her arrogant gaze with eyes made of ice. “You got exactly what you wanted. You are back in his bed. There is absolutely no need for you to come slumming down here just to mock me.” She stepped forward, seamlessly slipping into her old, manipulative habits. She looped her arm through mine, pouting her lips like an innocent child. “Oh, Anna, do not be mad at me.” “I am actually saving your life. Can you imagine how miserable it would be to spend the rest of your life married to a man who does not even love you?” I let out a harsh scoff and physically ripped my arm away from her. She did not even flinch. She just stared at me, her eyes dancing with wicked amusement. “Do you want to know why Darryl suddenly agreed to date me in high school? You know how intensely private and cold he used to be.” Ignoring my darkening expression, she clamped her hand around my wrist and practically dragged me toward the door. “Come to the college reunion with me tonight, and I will tell you his deepest, darkest secret.” I did not fight her. I was leaving this city in a few days anyway. I was leaving the battleground where I had bled for three years. Consider this my final goodbye. Sitting in the backseat of Darryl’s luxury SUV, I watched Harper claim the passenger seat. She spent the entire drive happily chirping at Darryl, weaponizing our shared past. “Darryl, do you remember when you forced Anna and me to stay after school for tutoring? God, we complained so much back then.” “And in college, every single time you bought me a gift, you always included a little greeting card for Anna. You were so terrified I would annoy my own roommate.” Darryl gazed at her with sickening tenderness. Every few minutes, he would take one hand off the steering wheel just to press her fingers against his chest. Sitting in the back, I was treated like an absolute ghost. A heavy, suffocating acid burned the back of my throat. I turned my head to stare out the tinted window, letting my mind drift back to those school days. A secret crush is a teenage girl’s most delicate treasure. And I had only shared that treasure with one person. Harper. I remember blushing furiously as I confessed my feelings. Harper had rolled her eyes, her face twisting in utter disdain. “Anna, what is wrong with your taste?” “Sure, he has a pretty face and gets perfect grades. But have you seen the absolute dump he lives in? His family cannot even afford a basic television.” When I frantically tried to defend him, she just covered her mouth and laughed. “Alright, alright. Your best friend will help you get your man.” Under the guise of helping me pursue him, she began aggressively inserting herself into his life. Then, out of absolutely nowhere, she walked up to me in the cafeteria, her fingers perfectly entwined with his. “Anna, Darryl and I are officially together.” There was no apology in her eyes. Only the thrilling rush of a victory lap. The sun was shining brilliantly that day, but my entire world plunged into an endless, freezing winter. During high school, I eagerly looked forward to the tutoring sessions Harper constantly complained about. During college, I worked double shifts at a cafe just to help Darryl afford Harper’s lavish birthday surprises. I was like a starving beggar, greedily collecting whatever pathetic scraps of time I could spend near him. “Anna, we are here.” Harper’s voice snapped me out of my trance. She linked her arm through mine, playing the role of the sweet best friend as we walked toward the private dining room. Darryl trailed closely behind us, the silent, devoted protector. Right before we reached the heavy mahogany doors, she leaned in close. Her voice dropped to a sinister, triumphant whisper. “Anna, do you remember a secret you told me a long time ago?” “In high school, you used to sneak up to the side wall of the rooftop every single afternoon to write anonymous messages to a boy you had never spoken to?” “That boy was Darryl.” “He thought the girl he was sharing his soul with… was me.” Her words were light as a feather, but they hit my eardrums like a detonating bomb. “That was the only reason he ever agreed to date me.” “Anna.” “I stole him right out from under you.” “And after tonight… you will never, ever get him back.” My entire body locked up. My legs suddenly felt like they were cast in solid concrete. I remembered a conversation Darryl and I had late one night in the basement. We could talk for hours without ever running out of things to say. He had looked at me with a strange, melancholy expression. “You know, I always feel this unexplainable sense of familiarity with you.” “Anna, if only the girl from back then was you…” It took ten years, but the horrific truth behind those words finally clicked into place. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to grab her by the throat and ask her why. We grew up together. We shared everything from elementary school to college. When she skipped out on the bill at a restaurant, I was the one who rushed over to empty my wallet and apologize to the owner, and she never even thanked me. When she complained she had nothing to wear for a date, I handed over the brand new dresses my mother bought for me, and she never returned a single one. When a girl from another class insulted her, I was the one who kicked the classroom door off its hinges to defend her honor, earning myself a permanent strike on my academic record. I could not fathom why she felt the need to destroy my life like this. But before I could speak, she pushed the heavy doors open and strutted into the private room. Darryl stopped right beside me. His voice was a low, freezing warning. “Anna. No one in there knows we ever dated.” “Do not do anything to embarrass Harper tonight.” A broken, pathetic smile stretched across my lips. Any lingering desire I had to expose the truth about the rooftop messages instantly turned to ash. He walked inside and naturally took the seat directly beside Harper. The room erupted in loud, obnoxious cheering from our old classmates. “Look at Mr. CEO! You and Harper have been going strong for ten years now! Now that you are sitting on a tech empire, when are we getting the wedding invitations?” “Right? You guys were the ultimate power couple on campus. Everyone was insanely jealous of you.” Harper cast a shy, demure glance at Darryl. “I am in no rush. Whatever Darryl wants.” She took a delicate bite of fish, then suddenly covered her mouth, letting out a violent, dramatic gag. The entire table gasped in collective excitement. “Oh my god! Are we celebrating a wedding and a baby tonight?!” Darryl grabbed a napkin, gently wiping the corner of her mouth with sickening devotion. “If that is the case, you all better double your wedding gifts. I will be checking the envelopes.” I sat directly across the table, watching their sickening display of domestic bliss. My stomach violently churned. I thought about the last three years. Even when my face was flushed red with desire and the mood was perfect, he would always pull away at the last second to grab protection. “Anna, it is not the right time for a baby.” “Just wait a little longer.” I waited for years, and he never gave me an inch. But the second Harper returned, he planted a child in her without a second thought. Sarah, my old college roommate, nudged my arm with a sharp elbow. “Anna, you are obviously going to be the maid of honor and the godmother. They are dragging their feet, why aren’t you pressuring them to lock down a date?” Harper’s eyes drifted down to my hands. I had forgotten to take off the cheap silver ring Darryl bought me two years ago. “Do not put too much pressure on Anna, guys. She has had a rough time. She has been hopelessly in love with Darryl for a decade.” “She even snatched the prop ring Darryl used for his proposal, claiming she wanted it as a keepsake to mourn her broken heart.” That single sentence was a nuclear bomb. The entire table went dead silent. Dozens of eyes snapped toward me, dripping with absolute revulsion and contempt. “Wow. No wonder she was always trailing behind them like a pathetic lost puppy during college. She was waiting for a chance to strike.” “Harboring filthy thoughts about your best friend’s man for ten years? That is absolutely repulsive. She does not even deserve to sit at this table.” While I was paralyzed by the shock, Sarah aggressively grabbed my hand and yanked it up for the entire table to see. “Look! The inside of the band literally has Harper’s initials engraved on it.” “I cannot believe Anna is this much of a shameless, desperate homewrecker.” The insults rained down on me like toxic acid, burning away whatever dignity I had left. The blood entirely abandoned my face. A guy from our graduating class stood up, a sleazy smirk on his face, holding a shot glass brimming with cheap liquor. “Anna, are you really that desperate for a man? Drink this, and I will do you a favor and be your boyfriend for the night.” Without waiting for my answer, he grabbed my jaw and tried to force the burning alcohol down my throat. I shot a desperate, pleading look at Darryl. He knew my stomach lining was entirely destroyed from drinking with aggressive clients to secure funding for his company. One shot of hard liquor could land me in the emergency room. But Darryl just gave me a flat, apathetic stare. “Let her get a boyfriend. It will stop Harper from feeling insecure.” My heart plummeted straight into the abyss. The burning liquid flooded my mouth, violently searing my throat and setting my damaged stomach completely on fire. Right at that exact second, the heavy mahogany doors were violently kicked open, slamming against the wall with a deafening crash. A furious, dangerously low voice echoed through the room. “Who says Anna doesn’t have a boyfriend?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440332”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My older brother Thomas used his dying breath to entrust his twelve-year-old daughter and his entire estate to me. For ten grueling years, I played the role of both father and mother. I worked myself to the bone to put her through college. I thought the hardest days were finally behind us. But right after her graduation ceremony, she teamed up with my ex-wife, Brenda, a woman I hadn’t seen in years. Together, they slapped me with a massive lawsuit. “Uncle Tom, my dad left this house to me. You’ve been living here scot-free for a decade. It’s time for you to pack your bags. And that hundred thousand dollars? That wasn’t a gift. You owe me.” I stared at my niece. She was aggressively in my face, completely unrecognizable. A bitter smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I thought about the updated will securely locked inside a bank vault. A document no one else knew existed. Did Thomas somehow foresee this exact day? “Tom! Open the damn door! I know you’re in there!” The voice on the front porch was jarringly familiar. “Who is it?” I yanked open the heavy front door, my brow furrowed in confusion. Lily stood on the porch. Her eyes were as cold as ice. Standing right behind her, wearing a smug, arrogant smirk, was Brenda. “Lily?” I froze. I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, and she looked entirely different from the bright-eyed girl I had raised. Something was deeply wrong. “What’s going on, Lily? Are you in some kind of trouble?” “Trouble? Oh, I’m doing great. Thanks to you.” She sneered, stepping past me into the house. Her eyes scanned the living room like a barcode reader, judging every piece of furniture. Her lips curled into a nasty smirk. “Just came to check on my amazing uncle. Playing house in a home you stole. Must be nice and cozy, right?” Her glare felt like a physical knife dragging across my skin. “Lily. What the hell are you talking about?” There was no warmth. No happy reunion. Just this biting, toxic sarcasm. “What am I talking about?” Lily let out a dry, mocking laugh. Brenda immediately took that as her cue. She eagerly unzipped her designer purse, pulled out a thick stack of folded papers, and shoved them into Lily’s hands. Lily took the papers and slammed them down hard onto the glass coffee table. The whole table rattled. “Open your eyes and read it. It’s a court summons. I’m suing you for embezzling my parents’ estate. For illegally occupying my property. And for that hundred thousand dollars in cash. It’s time to pay up.” My brain short-circuited. A loud ringing echoed in my ears. A summons? Suing me? Embezzlement? I looked at Lily, my throat suddenly going bone-dry. “Lily… what is this? When your parents passed away…” Lily ignored me and repeated herself, her voice flat and robotic. “Tom. Give me my house back. And the hundred grand.” “A hundred grand?!” I stammered. “Lily, how can you even say that? Every single penny of that money was spent on you. Your parents told me…” “Told you what?” Lily interrupted, her face twisting in pure disgust. “Did they tell you to take care of me, or did they tell you to steal my inheritance? Ten years. A hundred thousand dollars. Where are the receipts, Tom? Because all I see is you living comfortably in a house that belongs to me.” “Exactly.” Brenda nudged Lily’s arm, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Lily is a legal adult now. The law is on her side. You can’t just squat on a dead man’s property forever. Don’t waste your breath on him, honey.” After all these years, Brenda’s toxic, instigating mouth hadn’t changed one bit. Lily ignored Brenda and kept her dead eyes locked on my face. “Drop the act. This is my house. That is my money. Every single dime my parents left behind. They died, and you swallowed their blood money. How do you even sleep at night?” Ten years of blood, sweat, and tears. And in her eyes, I was nothing but a thief. “Lily… I’m your uncle. Your family…” “You stopped being family the day you decided to freeload in my house.” “Get out. Both of you, get the hell out of my house!” I pointed a shaking finger at the front door. Lily didn’t flinch. “Get out? You’re the one who needs to get out. This house will officially be mine very soon.” She didn’t spare me another glance. She turned on her heel and marched out. Brenda shot me a victorious, venomous glare and quickly followed her. I stood alone in the living room, staring at the blinding white legal papers on the coffee table. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. This was bad. 2 When I got to the office the next morning, my entire body felt heavy. My right eyelid wouldn’t stop twitching. I had barely sat down at my cubicle when Stan, the guy from the next desk over, rolled his chair toward me. His face was scrunched up in discomfort. “Hey, Tom… man… have you checked the local neighborhood Facebook group? It’s… it’s a total bloodbath.” My stomach dropped into my shoes. I frantically pulled out my phone. I opened the app. The top pinned post hit my eyes like a flashbang. The Ultimate Betrayal. Blood-Sucking Uncle Steals Orphaned Niece’s Inheritance for Ten Years! Posted by: Lily. There were photos attached. One was a picture of my front porch. The other was an old, heartbreaking photo of Lily as a little kid, wearing a faded, oversized t-shirt, standing alone in her parents’ old backyard. The post itself was an absolute character assassination. She called me a hypocrite. A predator. She accused me of betraying my brother’s dying trust, embezzling a massive fortune, and emotionally abusing her. The comment section was a mob out for blood. “Absolute human garbage!” “Lock him up!” “Get the hell out of our neighborhood!” “Give that poor girl her house back!” My hands shook so badly my phone slipped from my grip and clattered onto the desk. “Tom! Mr. Henderson wants you in his office. Right now.” One of the administrative assistants called out from the hallway. She looked at me like I was a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of her shoe. I forced myself to stand up and walk into the manager’s office. Henderson sat behind his massive mahogany desk. His face was thunderous. “Tom.” He tapped a heavy pen against his deskpad. “We expect a certain level of integrity from our employees. Personal scandals reflect on this company. Have you seen the absolute circus online today? Everyone in the building is talking about it. You need to pack up your desk and go home. Fix this mess before you even think about coming back. You are suspended. Do I make myself clear?” Suspended. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water directly over my head. I drove home in a complete daze. The moment I pulled up to my driveway, I saw Lily standing on the front porch with her arms crossed, blocking the door like a bouncer. Brenda was hovering right next to her. A few neighbors were peeking through their blinds. Others were lingering on the sidewalk, whispering and pointing. “Wow. You actually have the nerve to show your face around here?” Lily announced, making sure her voice carried down the street. “Hey everyone, come take a look! This is the parasite who steals from his own orphaned niece. Does a guy like this really deserve to live in a house like this?” “Tom, you owe me that money. You owe me this house. And I’m not leaving until I get some answers.” “Answers?!” I felt the blood rushing to my head. “You posted a pack of lies online! The whole company saw it, and I just got suspended from my job.” “And now you’re blocking my door demanding money? I don’t owe you a damn thing.” “Lily, I want you to look deep inside your conscience. How old were you when your parents passed away? Twelve. Who raised you? Who put clothes on your back and food on your plate? Who drove through literal blizzards to sit through your parent-teacher conferences? For the last ten years, I was your father.” “My father?!” Lily’s lip curled in absolute disgust. “My real father wouldn’t have dumped me in a cheap boarding school. He wouldn’t have only cared about my test scores. He wouldn’t have been completely broke when it was time to pay my college tuition, humiliating me in front of the financial aid office. If Brenda hadn’t stepped in to cover the final payments…” “Save the sob story, Tom!” Brenda yelled, completely cutting me off. “Where is the money? Where are the bank statements? If you can’t produce them, it means you stole it. And the house? Is your name on the deed? No? Then pack your garbage and get out. Stop squatting in a house you don’t own.” Brenda turned to the watching neighbors. “Look closely, people. This is Tom. A man with zero morals. How can any of you sleep at night knowing a thief lives on your street?” More neighbors started gathering on the sidewalks. I could hear their hushed whispers, the judgmental clicking of their tongues. My vision swam with dark spots. I was shaking with so much rage I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. 3 Bad news travels faster than wildfire. My own neighborhood became a hostile zone. When I stepped outside to take out the trash, Mrs. Higgins from the house across the street took one look at me, gripped her garbage bags, and practically sprinted in the opposite direction. A group of kids riding their bikes down the street stopped and pointed at me. “Look. That’s the bad guy. The guy who stole that girl’s house.” I had to grip the plastic trash bin to stop myself from doing something stupid. My phone was even worse. Unknown numbers called back to back, ringing constantly. I finally answered one. “Hello?” “Is this Tom? You absolute piece of trash. I hope you rot in hell.” A barrage of vile, explicit curses exploded through the speaker. I slammed the end call button and powered the phone off completely. The house finally fell silent, but the heavy, crushing weight in my chest only got worse. A lawyer was my only lifeline now. I scrounged together every loose bill I had hidden in my desk drawers just to cover the initial consultation fee. I sat in a stiff leather chair in a downtown law firm. Across the desk, Mr. Davis adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. His frown was so deep it looked permanent. “Tom.” He spoke slowly, and every word felt like a hammer hitting my chest. “Your situation is… well, it’s not looking good.” My stomach dropped. “The opposing party, Lily, is a legal adult. She is the rightful heir and the legal owner of the property. She wants to reclaim it, and legally, she is entirely justified. Your name is not on the deed.” Davis flipped open the thin manila folder on his desk. “The main issue is the hundred thousand dollars. You claim your brother and sister-in-law verbally entrusted it to you for her upbringing. But there is absolutely no paper trail. They just said ‘take it’ and ‘live here.’ They didn’t write a formal will stating the cash was a personal gift to you, nor did they legally transfer the house. In the eyes of the court, it is incredibly difficult to prove this was an unconditional transfer of assets.” He paused, looking at me with pity. “You have to prove that every single penny of that hundred thousand dollars was spent directly on Lily’s upbringing. Or, you need to prove your sister-in-law explicitly stated the money was yours to spend. Also…” He pointed a pen at the printed screenshots of Lily’s viral posts. “The court of public opinion is heavily stacked against you right now. Judges are human beings. They read the news. It will subconsciously affect their perspective.” Prove it? It had been ten years. Groceries. Utility bills. Gas money. Textbooks. Winter coats. Extracurriculars. Who in the world keeps a detailed receipt for every single gallon of milk and pair of shoes they buy over a decade? “So… that’s it? I just sit here and let them destroy my life?” “Do your absolute best to find evidence,” Davis sighed. “Large bank withdrawals that coincide with tuition due dates. Or, if there was anyone else in the room when your brother gave you those instructions. An eyewitness.” An eyewitness? My brother died suddenly. The only other person in that hospital room besides me… was Brenda. Her? Would she testify for me? Pigs would fly before that woman lifted a finger to help me. I dragged my exhausted body back home. As I unlocked the front door, I noticed a folded piece of paper shoved underneath the crack. A notice from the Homeowners Association. The itemized list was incredibly long. Neighborhood maintenance fees. Trash collection. Security gate upkeep. The numbers were astronomical. The bold black text at the very bottom hit me like a physical punch. Outstanding Late Fees and Penalties: $15,872.00 Fifteen thousand dollars in late fees?! I immediately dialed the HOA president’s number. “Listen, Tom. Lily marched into the office yesterday and demanded a full audit of the last ten years. She said the reduced rates we gave you out of sympathy were invalid. She demanded we back-charge you at the absolute maximum market rate. For ten years of occupancy. Plus late penalties.” I hung up before he could finish his sentence and immediately dialed Lily’s number. “Lily. You went to college to learn how to completely ruin a person, is that it? Making the HOA back-charge me fifteen grand? This is extortion. Back off.” “Having a tough time, Uncle Tom?” Lily’s voice was dripping with smug satisfaction. “If you want peace and quiet, pack your bags and wire me the money. I promise I’ll leave you alone. If not, I have a lot more tricks up my sleeve.” I was so angry my vision blurred. I tore the HOA notice into tiny shreds and threw them against the wall. 4 It didn’t take long for HR to drop the word “temporary” from my suspension. A rep from corporate handed me a heavily worded NDA and a “Graceful Exit Agreement.” The subtext was crystal clear. Sign the paper, quit quietly, and get a tiny severance check. Fight it, get fired for violating the morality clause, and leave with absolutely nothing. I felt like my spine had been ripped out. I took the severance. The massive suburban house felt incredibly hollow with just me inside it. I started tearing the place apart like a madman. My brother’s old toolbox. My sister-in-law’s knitting basket. Lily’s kindergarten art projects. I yanked out drawers and dumped them on the floor. I pulled every box out of the attic. I searched for twenty-four straight hours. Aside from some old photo albums and worthless trinkets, I found absolutely nothing. No receipts. No hidden documents. No evidence. I collapsed onto the messy floor, staring blankly at the dusty ceiling fan. Suddenly, a violent, aggressive pounding echoed from the front door. It was louder and angrier than Lily’s knocking. Someone was trying to break the door down. I scrambled up and yanked the door open. Three massive, intimidating men stood on my porch. The leader had a tight buzzcut, a black muscle shirt, and thick tribal tattoos snaking up his neck. His eyes were dead and aggressive. The two guys behind him were built like brick walls. Buzzcut held a stack of papers in his massive hands. When he saw me, he flashed a nasty smile, revealing a row of yellowed teeth. “You Tom?” His voice was pure gravel. He slapped the papers hard against the wooden doorframe. “Lily sent us. Read it and weep. Formal Notice of Reclaiming Property.” He paused, his small eyes gleaming with cruelty. “You have exactly two hours to pack whatever trash belongs to you and get out. This house belongs to the lady now. We’re here for the eviction.” “Eviction?!” I yelled. “The court hasn’t even heard the case yet. She has zero legal right to force an eviction.” “Rights?” One of the thugs with a deep scar across his cheek let out a harsh laugh. He shoved his heavy hand against my chest, physically pushing me backward. The three men pushed past me, marching into my living room like they owned the place. “Here’s your rights,” Buzzcut said, shoving the notice directly into my face. “Lily is the deed holder. Understand? The owner calls the shots. She wants you gone, so you’re gone. You want to cry to a judge? Let’s see who the cops side with.” He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. “Besides, the lady gave us full power of attorney to clear the premises. We’re just doing our jobs. Go ahead, call 911.” “This is breaking and entering,” I said, my heart hammering in my chest. “Get out of my house.” “Get out?” Buzzcut threw his head back and laughed. He shoved me hard into the drywall. “Alright boys, get to work. The boss lady said anything that isn’t nailed down is garbage. Throw it all out. Let’s give this freeloader some space.” They immediately started grabbing my belongings and hurling them into the corners of the room. One of the thugs picked up a cheap plastic picture frame from the side table. It was the only surviving family photo of my brother, Sarah, a tiny Lily, and me. He didn’t even look at it. He just casually tossed it onto the hardwood floor. The plastic cracked loudly. The photo slid out, and a heavy, dirt-caked work boot stepped directly onto my brother’s face. That photo was the only physical memory I had left of my brother. All the blood rushed to my head. I let out a feral yell and lunged directly at the man who stepped on the photo. The ensuing chaos was deafening. A neighbor must have heard the shouting and called the police. The flashing blue lights eventually scared the thugs away. As I was on my hands and knees, trying to sweep up the broken glass and shattered plastic, my phone rang. “Hello? Lily…” my voice was shaking. “Tom.” Her voice was completely hollow. “Tomorrow at 2:00 PM, a real estate agent is coming to do a walkthrough. Pack your garbage and leave the keys on the kitchen counter. I’m coming to officially take possession on Monday. If you are still inside that house, what happened today is going to happen every single day.” She delivered the threat rapidly, without a single stutter. A walkthrough? Taking possession? “Lily!” I jumped to my feet. “Your parents left this house for me to live in. They wanted me to have a roof over my head so I could…” “So I wouldn’t end up on the street!” Lily screamed, her voice cracking with fury. “It wasn’t meant for you to squat in for ten years. Do not bring up my parents. You don’t have the right. Brenda was right about you. You’re just a greedy, pathetic parasite.” “What kind of poison is Brenda feeding you?!” I roared into the phone. “That woman is a…” “She cares about me. She actually looks out for my future. She treats me ten thousand times better than you ever did.” Lily practically screamed the last sentence. The line went dead. The dial tone pierced my eardrum. Ten years. Ten whole years. I ruined my own life to play both parents. I clothed her, fed her, paid her tuition. I bought her the newest iPhones and expensive bags because I was terrified she’d get bullied for being the poor orphan kid. I ate ramen noodles for dinner so she could have steak. And this was the result. She sent violent thugs to tear my house apart and crush my brother’s face under a dirty boot. I had raised a monster. She didn’t even call me Uncle anymore. Just “Tom” and “Parasite.” The phone vibrated again. Brenda. My fingers were trembling as I hit accept. “I assume you heard what Lily just said,” Brenda purred, her voice dripping with triumphant satisfaction. “Be smart about this. Pack your bags and leave quietly. Save yourself the embarrassment of a public trial. Because if we go to court, I promise you, I will bleed you dry until you don’t even have the shirt on your back.” She didn’t even wait for a response. The call disconnected. The phone slipped from my sweaty palm and cracked against the hardwood floor. I slumped against the side of the sofa, sliding down until I was sitting in the dust. I had absolutely zero fight left in me. The house was gone. My career was gone. My reputation was completely destroyed. I was drowning in HOA debt, and my legal fund was basically empty. Was there really no way out? 5 I wandered around the empty, echoing house like a ghost for two days. The dirty, crumpled family photo sitting on the coffee table burned my eyes every time I walked past it. In the picture, Thomas had his arm wrapped tightly around Sarah. Lily had two little pigtails, grinning at the camera without a care in the world. Sarah passed away from a sudden illness when Lily was young. A few years later, Thomas’s grief caught up with him. His body just completely shut down. I remember Thomas lying in that sterile hospital bed. He was skeletal. He gripped my hand with a desperate, terrifying strength. “Tom… take care of Lily. The house… is big enough for both of you to live in. The money… make sure she has a good life.” I buried my face in my hands. A sharp, agonizing lump formed in my throat. Hot tears leaked through my fingers. No. I couldn’t just roll over and die. Thomas entrusted Lily to me. He told me to live in this house. He didn’t do it so I could be tortured and destroyed by Brenda’s toxic manipulation and a brainwashed kid. I dragged myself off the floor, wiped my face with my sleeve, grabbed a jacket, and ran out the door. The bank. I needed to go to the bank. That hundred thousand dollars was deposited under my name. The teller at the front desk frowned deeply when I asked for a decade of transaction history. “Sir, our local branch system only goes back five years for immediate printing. Anything older requires a formal request from the central archives. It usually takes three to five business days for approval.” “Request it. Right now. Expedite it if you have to,” I begged, pressing my hands against the bulletproof glass. I waited through two agonizing days of silence before the bank finally called me to pick up the files. My hands were shaking as I held the thick stack of printed statements. I flipped through the pages. Rapidly scanning the lines. Tuition. There it was. Every August, a massive sum was wired out. Payee: State University. The amounts matched perfectly. That was Lily’s college tuition. Five full years of out-of-state tuition. That single expense accounted for over fifty thousand dollars. My heart hammered against my ribs. This was a lead. But my relief lasted exactly two minutes. This was only her college years. What about high school? Middle school? What about groceries, medical bills, clothes, laptops, and emergency room visits? Out of the hundred thousand, college took half. The other fifty thousand was stretched over the first five years. That’s ten grand a year. Less than a thousand bucks a month for food, shelter, and clothing for a growing teenager. The paper trail was broken. A few college tuition receipts weren’t going to justify the entire amount in front of a judge. Refusing to give up, I drove to Lily’s old high school and middle school. The administrator at the high school adjusted his glasses and shook his head firmly. “Mr. Pendelton, you’re asking for financial records from seven years ago. Those are in the deep archives off-site. Without a formal subpoena or a court order, we absolutely cannot release a minor’s historical financial records to you. It’s a massive liability.” I hit a brick wall. The middle school was even worse. The old records clerk had retired, and the new staff didn’t even know what filing system was used back then. Every single thread led to a dead end. I walked back to my neighborhood, my head hanging low, utterly defeated. As I approached my street, I saw Brenda’s obnoxious bright red SUV parked by the curb. She was standing on the sidewalk, smiling warmly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Lily’s ear. Lily actually looked happy. “Wow. You still haven’t packed?” Brenda caught sight of me, and her warm smile vanished instantly. She looked down her nose at me. “Absolutely shameless. You’re like a leech that refuses to let go.” She raised her voice, making sure anyone walking their dog could hear her. Lily’s smile disappeared. She shot me a look of pure, unadulterated disgust, grabbed Brenda’s arm, and climbed into the passenger seat without a word. The SUV sped off.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440317”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The wedding prep was going perfectly. That was until my fiancée, Sarah, brought her childhood guy friend, Oliver, into our brand new home. What pushed me entirely over the edge was finding out Oliver spent the night in our custom ordered master bed. The next morning, Oliver posted a short video that instantly blew up online. The caption was completely sickening. In the video, he smirked at the camera. “Huge thanks to Sarah for setting this up. This hundred thousand dollar mattress is insane. Especially the vibration feature. George really has a killer eye for this stuff. smirk emoji” Sarah’s comment under his post was basically pouring gasoline on a fire. “If you like it so much, I will make him buy you one too.” Seeing that, I was shaking with pure rage. I called a junk removal company overnight and had that expensive mattress dragged straight to the city dump. When Sarah found out, she called me immediately. Zero apologies. Instead, she screamed at me. “Are you out of your mind? If you did not want the bed, you should have just given it to Oliver! Throwing it away is such a waste!” I did not say a single word. I just quietly deleted every single wedding post from my social media. If she could not even maintain the most basic boundaries, this wedding was off. But not long after, Sarah was on her knees in front of me, crying her eyes out and begging me to take her back. She swore she could not live without me. 1 “George, what the hell is your problem?! Why did you delete all the wedding announcements?” When Sarah finally tracked me down, I was busy directing a crew inside our newly renovated penthouse. She came in hot, opening her mouth just to scold me. “Do you have any idea how many people are messaging me right now? Are you intentionally trying to humiliate me?!” I refused to even look at her. I just motioned to the movers handling the bed frame. “Guys, pick up the pace. Do not worry about scratching the walls. Just get it all out of here.” The movers gave a quick nod and kept working. Sarah glanced at the busy clean up crew. The realization finally hit her. Every single piece of furniture they were hauling out was something I had spent months tracking down, specifically catered to her tastes. A flicker of genuine panic crossed her face, but she quickly forced it down. “George, why are you having them move all this stuff?” I finally turned around, locking eyes with her. My voice was dead. “I am canceling the wedding. Is that not obvious enough for you?” Her eyes widened. She finally realized I was completely serious. When she spoke again, her tone was significantly softer. “I know you are mad. But I can explain this. Absolutely nothing happened between Oliver and me! He was literally just testing the mattress for us!” Thinking about that disgusting video still trending online, I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Yeah, people who know the truth think he was just sleeping on the bed. Everyone else on the internet thinks he was sleeping with you!” “The entire comment section is mocking me for being so generous. They are saying if I let another guy test out my wedding bed, I probably let him test out the bride too!” Sarah stayed silent for a long moment. When she finally answered, it was just a lazy excuse. “Oliver did not do it on purpose. Stop caring so much about what random people online think. The internet will forget about it by tomorrow. If it really bothers you that much, I will just tell him to delete the video. Okay?” Watching her act like she was making some massive sacrifice, I scoffed out loud. “You think deleting a video fixes this? Sarah, listen to me. This is not over.” Her temper flared right back up. “George, are you ever going to drop this? Nothing I do is good enough for you! We are supposed to get married in a few weeks. Can you stop throwing a tantrum over nothing?” I twitched a tight smile, pointing at my own chest. “I am throwing a tantrum?” She crossed her arms. “Obviously! How many times do I have to say it? Oliver and I are completely platonic! If I was actually into him, do you honestly think I would be marrying you?” A sharp pain twisted in my chest. My eyes burned. “Is that right? So according to your logic, I should be thanking him?!” “Do you think I am an idiot? If you two really did nothing wrong, then why was the entire set of bedsheets completely replaced this morning?!” Suddenly, the electronic lock on the front door beeped. Oliver rushed into the living room and immediately dropped to his knees on the hardwood floor. “George! I am so sorry! This was all my fault! Please do not be mad at Sarah!” Before I could say a word, he raised his hand and started violently slapping his own face. Sarah looked completely heartbroken. “George, that is enough! Oliver grew up incredibly poor. He got overly excited experiencing a luxury bed for the first time and made a stupid video. You cannot blame him just because it went viral!” “We are getting married soon. Can you just be the bigger person? It is just a dumb internet trend. Why are you being so petty?” 2 It was always like this. No matter how inappropriate or shameless Oliver acted, in her eyes, it was never a big deal. She unconditionally took his side, completely blind to the pain she was causing me. If that was how she felt, why did she even agree to be my girlfriend? Why did she agree to marry me? My chest felt completely hollow. “Sarah, what the hell am I to you? You even gave Oliver the passcode to our private home. Are you seriously trying to follow the internet comments and make me give up my spot for him?” She rolled her eyes, looking totally annoyed. “If you were not the heir to the Kensington empire, no one would even care about our wedding. This whole thing only went viral because of your status! You brought this on yourself!” “So what you are saying is, because my family has money, I deserve to be publicly humiliated? Sarah, when did you turn into this person?” Looking at the woman standing in front of me, she felt like a total stranger. I closed my eyes, fighting back the dampness gathering in my lashes. Noticing the shift in my mood, Sarah bit her lip and reached out to grab my sleeve. “George, I came here to explain things and figure this out. I do not want to fight with you. Let us just calm down.” I coldly yanked my arm away. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes. “You always do this! You get mad and refuse to listen to a single word I say! I came here to fix the internet drama, and you just yell at me and threaten to break up! How am I supposed to not get defensive?” “What exactly do you want me to do to make this go away? Just give me a straight answer!” I knew at least half her tears were completely fake. But after three years together, seeing her cry was still my ultimate weakness. The veins in my forehead throbbed. Finally, I let out a heavy sigh, giving in one last time. “Fine. Tell Oliver to delete the video and post a public apology. Then we drop it.” I locked my eyes entirely onto hers. “I am willing to let this slide because of everything we have been through. But Oliver has to leave New York. I will personally find him a job in another state, but you two are cutting all contact.” Sarah was nodding along at first, but the second half of my demand made her freeze. “He just moved to the city. If you force him to leave, what if something bad happens to him out there?” I let out a cold scoff and turned toward the door. “Then we have nothing left to talk about. If you cannot do it, we are done.” Sarah panicked and rushed to block my path. She struggled internally for a few seconds before biting her lip and lowering her head. “Okay! We will do it your way. I will keep my distance from him. We can move forward with the wedding.” After that, she dragged a very pathetic looking Oliver out of the apartment, claiming she needed to find him a cheap hotel before having him post the apology. I let them go. Thinking the nightmare was finally over, I pulled out my phone, ready to draft a new wedding announcement to do some damage control. I was halfway through typing when a text popped up from one of my buddies. “Bro, your girl and her friend got entirely wasted at my club. They are practically glued together on the couch. You better come pick her up before this gets worse.” “…Alright, I am on my way.” I forced the words through gritted teeth, swallowing down a tidal wave of fury as I hung up the phone. I drove like an absolute maniac. By the time I kicked open the doors to the VIP lounge, Oliver and Sarah had basically stripped off half their clothes and were aggressively making out on the leather sofa. My vision went completely red. I grabbed an ice bucket from the bar, marched over, and violently hurled the freezing water and cubes directly onto them. “You shameless animals! Keep kissing, I dare you!” 3 The freezing water jolted them completely awake. They shrieked, scrambling up in a panic. “Who the hell do you think you are?! What are you doing to my friends?!” A drunk guy sitting at their table started shouting, heavily swaying as he grabbed an empty beer bottle to swing at me. Before he could even raise his arm, my bodyguard stepped in, grabbing the guy by the back of his neck and slamming his face directly into a massive fruit platter on the table. Sarah was shivering violently from the ice. She wiped her eyes, saw it was me, and immediately exploded in anger. “George, are you psychotic?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Oliver cowered, hiding completely behind Sarah’s back like a terrified child. “L-George. Do not misunderstand. Sarah and I just get a little physical when we drink. It is a habit, we are used to it…” I let out a dark, furious laugh. “Sarah, what exactly did you promise me this afternoon? You said you would keep your distance. Is this your version of keeping your distance?!” Pure rage boiled over. I kicked the heavy glass table, sending it crashing sideways. “You are practically having sex in the middle of my friend’s club! Should I have arrived a little later? Do you guys need me to book you a hotel room?!” Sarah looked guilty for exactly three seconds before her defense mechanisms kicked in. She lifted her chin, completely unapologetic. “Oliver is leaving the city tomorrow! It is totally normal for us to grab a few drinks to say goodbye! You go out drinking with your friends all the time. Why is it a crime when I do it?!” I roared at the top of my lungs. “I drink with my friends?! Do I make out with my friends?! Do I take my clothes off and roll around on a couch with them?!” “Do not forget who you are! If my buddy had not ordered his staff to delete the security footage, you and Oliver would be trending on Twitter again by tomorrow morning!” Sarah glared at me with freezing resentment. “Who I am? What does that even mean? Does being your fiancée mean I lose the basic human right to have a drink with my best friend?!” “Friend? This is what you call a friend?” I reached out, grabbed a half naked Oliver by the collar, and violently yanked him out from behind her. My hands were literally shaking with anger. Oliver immediately dropped to his knees again. “I am sorry George! I am so sorry! This was all my fault! I pressured Sarah into drinking! Punish me, but please do not be mad at her!” Before I could blink, he grabbed a heavy glass liquor bottle from the floor and violently smashed it against his own forehead. Blood instantly poured down his face. “I know I messed up! I am paying for it right now!” Sarah looked completely horrified. She dropped down, sobbing hysterically. “Oliver! Stop hurting yourself! This is not your fault!” Looking at the two of them crying together on the floor, anyone walking in would think I was the evil villain tearing apart two star crossed lovers. “Are you done putting on a show?” I kicked Oliver straight in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards, and ordered my bodyguard to pin him down. Then I grabbed a heavily swaying Sarah by the wrist and dragged her out to the car. “This is the absolute last chance you get. When you sober up tomorrow, we are going to have a very serious conversation about whether this wedding is actually happening.” Sarah fought me the entire way, screaming curses and calling me a monster, until the alcohol finally took over and she passed out in the passenger seat. The very next morning, the absolute first thing she did when she opened her eyes was ask for Oliver. “George, you bastard! You just left him bleeding in that club?! I have to go find him!” She grabbed her purse and rushed to the front door. But the second she pulled it open, she let out a bloodcurdling scream. 4 I stood up and walked over. Oliver was kneeling directly outside my front door. His hair was matted with dried, dark blood. He looked like a literal ghost out of a horror movie. I closed my eyes. A massive wave of pure, unfiltered exhaustion washed over me. Oliver’s face was completely pale. He forced a weak, tragic smile at Sarah. “Sarah, I just came to say goodbye. Thank you for taking care of me all these years.” He slowly turned his head to look at me, his voice trembling with fake desperation. “George, I really know I messed up. I knelt out here all night to reflect on my actions. Please, just forgive her.” Sarah lunged forward, desperately trying to pull him up from the floor. Oliver gripped her arms, shaking his head. “Sarah, just listen to me. Please treat George well. You guys are getting married. Do not let me ruin things between you.” What an incredibly generous speech. If a stranger heard this, they would assume he was her loyal boyfriend and I was the abusive millionaire stealing his girl. He was acting pathetic, but every single word out of his mouth was a calculated flex. He was rubbing it in my face that he was the only man Sarah truly cared about. And Sarah completely fell for it. She grabbed his arm, trying to drag him toward the elevator. “Stop talking! I am taking you to the hospital right now!” Oliver struggled against her grip. “No, Sarah! Do not treat me this well. I do not want George to misunderstand us again!” My eyes were dead cold. Before I could even open my mouth, Sarah spun around and delivered a stinging slap directly across my face. “George! Do I need your permission to take my bleeding friend to the ER now?! He is in this condition because of you! You have the nerve to be jealous?!” The slap was incredibly heavy. My head actually snapped to the side. I pressed my tongue against the inside of my aching cheek. A dark, hollow laugh escaped my throat. “You actually hit me?” Sarah spat a curse, grabbing her car keys from the console. “Yeah, I hit you! You think having a little money makes you a god?! Without the Kensington fortune, you are absolutely nothing! Nobody wants to deal with your entitled rich boy temper!” A flash of smug triumph crossed Oliver’s eyes before he went right back to begging. “George, I promise! As soon as I get checked out, I am leaving the city! You will never have to look at me again!” “He has no right to kick you out of this city! Do not be scared. I will make sure you stay right by my side!” Sarah pulled him toward the elevator without giving me a single backward glance. I stood in the doorway, watching their silhouettes disappear. My heart felt like it was encased in solid ice. Whatever deep, unforgettable love I used to have for this woman completely died in that exact moment. I closed my eyes, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number. If Sarah wanted to choose Oliver over me, then I was done showing mercy.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440333”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was almost eleven at night by the time Noah finally walked through the front door. He kicked off his shoes, spotted me sitting quietly at the dining table, and walked over to casually brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” he asked. “Saving electricity,” I replied. He let out a soft chuckle and headed into the narrow kitchen, returning a moment later with a steaming bowl of plain oatmeal. “Eat up. You haven’t been taking care of yourself again.” I stared at the bowl. The steam curled into the cold air. “Noah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “What is that custom jewelry receipt all about?” His hand froze in mid-air. It was only for a fraction of a second. Then, his easy smile returned. “I ordered it for a guy at the office. You went through my pockets?” “It fell out while I was doing your laundry,” I said. “Twenty-five thousand dollars. Your coworker must be incredibly generous.” He looked down, smiling as he nudged the bowl closer to me. “Well, the guys in corporate make the big bucks. Now eat.” He sounded so relaxed. So casual. He sounded so convincing I almost believed him. But the twenty-thousand-dollar monthly deposits burned in my mind, searing hot and painful. He picked up his phone to reply to a text. The screen lit up in the dark room. The contact name was a single red heart emoji. Followed by one word. Wife. 1 I lowered my eyes and slowly forced down the bowl of bland oatmeal. I didn’t say another word. The next morning was Saturday. Noah left the apartment bright and early, claiming his department had an emergency data audit. I sat on the edge of the mattress for a long time. Finally, I picked up my phone and typed the address from the jewelry receipt into the GPS. The Azure. It was the most exclusive luxury high-rise in the downtown district. Condos there went for two thousand dollars a square foot. I had never even allowed myself to buy a cup of coffee in that neighborhood. Then, I searched for the name printed on the invoice. Stella. A perfectly curated social media profile popped up instantly. Her feed was a flawless grid of luxury living. Pilates studios, first-class boarding passes, exclusive tasting menus, and designer hauls. Every single photo radiated the effortless glow of a woman who was fiercely, deeply taken care of. Her latest post was from yesterday. The caption read, Hubby worked late but still managed to snag a reservation at my favorite Michelin Omakase. Waited two months for this table. Totally worth it! At the edge of the frame, a man’s side profile was barely visible. Noah. He was holding up a piece of fatty tuna with his chopsticks, offering it to the camera with the softest, most adoring smile. Just last week, I had asked him if we could save up to try a nice sushi place for our anniversary. He told me it was a waste of money and that we could make rice bowls at home for a fraction of the cost. I kept scrolling. A month ago, she posted another update. Woke up to a new car! Hubby was worried about me taking Ubers late at night, so he paid cash for this gorgeous baby. How did I get so lucky? A pristine white Mercedes convertible sat in a brightly lit underground garage. A massive bouquet of red roses rested on the passenger seat. I drove a rusted ten-year-old Honda Civic. The transmission had slipped twice last winter, and he told me to just take the bus because repairs were too expensive. I scrolled further down. Three months ago. Happy three-year anniversary! Woke up to a total smart-home appliance upgrade. Hubby says our sanctuary deserves only the best. Three-year anniversary. Noah and I had been together for eight years. We had lived together for five. That meant right around the time we signed our first lease together, he had started an entirely different life with her. For three whole years. He would lie in bed next to me in our cramped apartment, whispering, “Just hold on a little longer, Anna.” And all the while, he was living the exact life he promised me with someone else. I locked my phone, leaned back against the cheap headboard, and stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling. The roof had leaked last summer. Noah said hiring a contractor was a waste of money, promising he would patch it himself over the weekend. A whole year had passed. The water stain was still there. By four in the afternoon, I drove my beat-up Civic down to The Azure. I parked across the street, watching the massive glass building through my scratched windshield. Warm ambient lighting bathed the luxurious lobby. Security guards in tailored suits stood at attention by the revolving doors. I looked down at my pilled sweater and faded jeans. I couldn’t even muster the courage to walk into the lobby. I sat there all afternoon. Just as the sun began to set, Noah’s car pulled out of the underground garage. A young, beautiful woman was in the passenger seat. She rested her head affectionately on his shoulder. Noah steered with one hand, his other hand gently holding her fingers. He was wearing a smile I hadn’t seen in years. It was a relaxed, genuinely happy smile. The smile of a man without a single care in the world. Whenever he was with me, his brow was always furrowed. He was always exhausted, always annoyed, always stressed about our budget. Their car turned the corner and merged into the city traffic, vanishing from sight. I turned the key in the ignition and slowly drove away. At nine o’clock that night, my phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. Hey. You sat outside The Azure for three hours this afternoon. The concierge showed me the security footage. You’re Anna, right? The one Noah told me about. My fingertips turned ice cold. A second message followed immediately. Don’t panic, I’m not looking for a fight. But I think it’s time we had a real conversation. I typed back, I’m not his ex. I’m his girlfriend. We never broke up. The typing bubble on her end paused for a long time. Anna, you really don’t get it, do you? In Noah’s mind, you two have been over for years. 2 The text messages kept flooding in, lighting up my screen in the dark apartment. Noah told me everything about your severe depression. He said you’re mentally unstable, and he’s terrified to actually pull the plug. He’s scared you’ll do something crazy if he leaves. That’s why he’s been stringing you along, throwing you a few hundred bucks a month to keep you quiet and pacified. I stared at the word pacified. A bitter, acidic knot twisted in my stomach. I typed out a single line. How much did he tell you about me? Stella replied instantly. I know all of it. I know your mom lost her mind and jumped off a balcony. I know you were bullied growing up, and I know about the scars on your wrists from high school. Noah said he’s been taking care of you for years, but he is completely drained. He said you’re like a black hole. No matter how much love he pours into you, it’s never enough. My hand hovered over the keyboard. I couldn’t form a single word. Those memories were a dark abyss. It took me over a decade to crawl my way out of that hell. It took me years of therapy to finally stop waking up screaming in the middle of the night, to walk down a dark street without trembling, to finally look in the mirror and smile. Noah had always told me my scars weren’t a burden to him. He promised me, looking dead into my eyes, that he would take those secrets to his grave. And now, a woman he had known for less than three years knew exactly where all my deepest, most agonizing wounds were hidden. Stella’s messages kept coming. Look, I’m not trying to hurt you. When we first met, he didn’t mention he had a girlfriend. When he finally confessed, I told him I’d wait for him to handle it. But we truly love each other. Look at what he got me for my birthday last month. A photo popped up. A diamond Tiffany pendant resting on a massive bouquet of crimson roses. The attached card read, Happy Birthday, Stella. You are my forever. My birthday was last month too. Noah had sent me a text. Happy birthday. I’ll make you noodles when I get home. He didn’t even buy me a single flower. He boiled some instant noodles, said he was exhausted from work, and went straight to bed. I sat alone at the small kitchen table, eating the noodles, genuinely believing I was lucky to have a man who worked so hard for our future. Stella sent a voice memo. I tapped play. A sweet, deliberately delicate voice filled the quiet room. “Anna, Noah only loves me. He says you’re suffocating him. Do both of yourselves a favor and just let him go, okay?” I locked my phone and walked out onto the tiny balcony. The night wind bit at my face. Down on the street, the yellow glow of the streetlights washed over the pedestrians. Everyone was moving so fast. Nobody stopped. I stood there for a very long time, staring out at the city until my shoulders went numb from the cold. When I finally stepped back inside, I picked up my phone and sent one last reply. Thank you for telling me. She replied instantly. So you’re finally going to back off? I didn’t answer. Two days later, Noah quietly unlocked the front door. His luggage still had the airport tags on it, and he had changed into a fresh button-down shirt. When he saw me sitting on the worn-out sofa, he offered a tired smile and handed me a small plastic shopping bag. “Hey, Aud. The business trip was insane, but I managed to grab you some of that fudge you like.” I took the bag. It was a five-dollar box of stale fudge you could find at any gas station. He went on a “business trip” and brought me back five-dollar candy. He bought the other woman a twenty-five-thousand-dollar diamond ring. I looked up at his face. I spoke slowly, enunciating every single syllable. “Noah, where exactly did you go for this business trip?” “Seattle,” he lied effortlessly. “Then why did Stella post a photo of you two on a beach in Cabo two days ago?” The living room fell dead silent. The tired smile completely froze on Noah’s face. He slowly walked over and sat on the far end of the sofa, interlacing his fingers, staring down at the scuffed floorboards. A long time passed before he finally spoke. “You know everything.” It wasn’t a question. It was a hollow, emotionless sigh. 3 “Yeah,” I said evenly. “I know everything.” Noah rubbed the bridge of his nose and finally looked at me. There was no panic in his eyes. There was no guilt, either. There was only a chilling, settled calmness. “Anna, I’m done lying to you.” “Stella and I have been together for almost three years.” “She’s the woman I am going to marry.” The words hit my chest like a crowbar. “And what about me?” I asked. Noah’s gaze flickered. “You?” He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Anna, it’s not that I don’t care about you. But you are just too heavy.” “Every single day we’ve been together, I’ve had to manage your emotions, your depression, your paralyzing fears.” “Do you have any idea how exhausting that is?” “I never asked you to carry me,” I said, my voice steady but tight. “I’ve been going to therapy. I’ve been taking my medication. I’ve been getting better.” Noah shook his head slowly. “You think you’re getting better. But I’m not.” “Every day, I come back to this miserable four-hundred-square-foot box. I have to look at your nervous, walking-on-eggshells face. I have to look at the cheap curtains and the water stains on the ceiling.” “I feel like I’m suffocating.” His phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at it. He didn’t pick it up, but the corners of his mouth twitched into a faint, involuntary smile. “Then why didn’t you just break up with me?” I asked. “Why sneak around for three years? You could have just ended it.” Noah took a deep breath, finally saying the quiet part out loud. “Because I was terrified you’d kill yourself.” He stared at me, his eyes dead and cold. “Your mother felt like she couldn’t handle life anymore, so she threw herself off a balcony.” “You are exactly like her. The second things get tough, your mind goes straight to the edge.” “That night in high school, when you called me bleeding… my hands shook for hours.” “I am not going through that again.” “So I stayed. I kept you company. I coddled you. I gave you a few hundred bucks a month to make sure you could survive.” “But Anna, that wasn’t love.” “That was…” He paused, searching for the word. “Pity.” I sat perfectly still. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. I was fourteen the day my mother jumped. A crowd had gathered around the concrete courtyard. I ran down the stairs so fast I lost one of my shoes. She was lying on the pavement. Blood was pooling out from her dark hair. Her eyes were half-open, staring at nothing. I had to change schools three times after that. In every hallway, the whispers followed me. Her mom’s a psycho. Her mom took the quick way down. She’s going to end up just like her. Noah was the only one who stood between me and the bullies. He had gripped my hand tightly and promised, “Anna, you are not your mother. You are going to be okay.” He was the one who dragged me out of the absolute dark. And now, he was sitting on my cheap sofa, ripping open my deepest, most agonizing scars, using them as justification for his betrayal. My throat constricted. My voice shook violently. “Noah… you swore to me. You promised you would never use my mother against me.” He shrugged casually. “I’m not using it against you. I’m just stating facts.” “It’s different with Stella. When I’m with her, life is easy. It’s fun. I don’t have to watch her every second to make sure she doesn’t mentally shatter into a million pieces.” “Your anxiety, your trauma, your constant fear… it’s just too much weight.” “I can’t carry it anymore.” The doorbell rang. Noah stood up and walked to the door. Stella was standing in the hallway, wearing a bright yellow designer sundress. She immediately looped her arm through his. She shot me a look, her voice dripping with condescending concern. “Noah, are you okay? I was worried you wouldn’t be able to handle her alone.” I stood up and locked eyes with her. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to touch either of you.” Noah squeezed Stella’s hand and looked back at me. “Anna, I never wanted to hurt you. Let’s just end this peacefully, okay?” I gripped the edge of the dining table to keep myself standing. My legs felt like water. “Okay.” They walked out together. The moment the door clicked shut, my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the floor. My entire body shook uncontrollably. But I didn’t cry. I couldn’t force out a single tear. 4 I didn’t step outside the apartment for four days. I drew the blackout curtains tight. I tossed my phone onto the far end of the sofa, flinching every time the screen lit up. Stella’s messages were relentless. I knew it was her because the phone buzzed in rapid succession every few minutes. On the fifth day, I finally picked it up. Thirty-two unread messages. She had sent me screenshots of her private chats with Noah. Babe, I booked the bridal boutique. We’re going in for fittings next month. Did you pack your bags? Our flight is early tomorrow. I’ll pick you up. Miss you. FaceTime me tonight. Every single message was like a red-hot iron rod, driven deep into flesh that had already gone numb. She sent one final paragraph. Anna, Noah noticed your phone was off. He said he was incredibly relieved. He hated it when you threw your little episodes. He said when your brain misfires, no one can stop you. He said you’re exactly like your crazy mother. Exactly like your crazy mother. Those words looped in my head like a broken record. I threw the phone as hard as I could at the floor. Then, I slowly bent down and picked it up. The screen was splintered, but it still worked. I slumped against the kitchen counter, staring at the cheap aluminum pot on the stove. The pot Noah used to boil my oatmeal every morning. A faded sticky note was still clinging to the fridge. His handwriting. Don’t forget to eat breakfast. Eight years. He used to sit in the back row of our high school homeroom, sneaking the best parts of his lunch onto my desk. I would tell him I wasn’t hungry. He would say, If you don’t eat, I don’t eat. He was the one who called the police on my stepdad. The day the cops finally dragged that monster out of our house, Noah had pulled me into his chest, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. He had whispered, Anna, no one is ever going to put a hand on you again. I will protect you. His eyes were red, his chin resting softly on top of my head, his chest radiating heat. That was the first time in my entire life I felt like surviving wasn’t an impossible task. But look at him now. He took all of my most precious, vulnerable memories and weaponized them to justify throwing me away. I had no idea when the shift happened. When he started playing the dutiful martyr to my face, while calling me a psycho behind my back. On the evening of the sixth day, I took a long, burning hot shower and put on clean clothes. I turned on every light in the apartment and scrubbed the place top to bottom. Then, I started packing. I only packed the things that strictly belonged to me. My toothbrush. My towels. The dark red cardigan my grandmother knitted for me right before she passed away. I left the reading lamp he bought me. I left the shoebox full of love letters. I picked up the framed photograph of us by the TV and placed it face down on the wood. I zipped up my suitcase and dragged it to the front door. I took a sticky note and a pen from the counter and wrote exactly four words. Eight years. Paid in full. I slapped the note on the shoe rack and dropped my keys right next to it. When I stepped out, the hallway was perfectly quiet. The elevator dinged. I pulled my suitcase inside and hit the button for the lobby. Right before the metal doors slid shut, I took one last look at the place I used to call home. And then, I never looked back.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440318”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

There’s a guy on my Snapchat who loves showing off his body. He frequently posts mirror selfies flexing his muscles. I used to wonder which player was casting such a wide net. Later, I found out—his stories are only visible to me. 01 I swiped onto another post from our resident thirst-trapper. As usual, it was a photo. But this time, the style had changed, giving off a vibe of coy restraint. His hand lifted the hem of his t-shirt, revealing deeply defined abs. He was wearing loose gray sweatpants, the drawstrings hanging naturally—one long, one short—stealing all my attention in their extreme asymmetry. I stared at it for a moment, and my face silently flushed red. I forget when I added him, but as far back as I can remember, his stories have been exclusively these kinds of photos. Abs, biceps, back muscles… He posted one every few days, persistently tugging at people’s heartstrings. I assumed he was a total player, for three reasons: First, he never showed his face. Second, he was incredibly good at teasing. Third, he lacked any sort of modesty. —What kind of decent, upstanding man posts stories like this! I originally just watched with a “might as well look if it’s there” mentality, but today, it kind of went to my head. Those gray sweatpants really did something to me. My sleepiness vanished completely. I forwarded the photo to him and started a chat: “Is it cold in your house? Why are you wearing so much today?” I sent the message, but he didn’t reply. I didn’t know if he was busy or just ignoring me. I didn’t dwell on it. Seeing that my lunch break was almost over, I hurried to catch some sleep. When I woke up, it was to the loud chatter in the office. My female colleagues were gathered in small groups, clutching their phones and wailing, “I’m heartbroken, I’m heartbroken.” In my groggy state, I caught fragments of the conversation. It seemed some celebrity had just gone public with a relationship. I reached for my phone, clicked on the Twitter trending topics, and froze when I saw the name at the top. #ChloeMillerLiamHayes# The person who went public was my best friend! Fueled by the indignation of “how dare she not tell me she’s dating,” I clicked on the hashtag. The video content left me even more dumbfounded. It was from the recording of a late-night talk show. The cameras zoomed in on each guest’s phone. The game segment required each guest to post a story claiming they were unhappy and see who received comfort first. Among the phones placed on the table, the one on the far left was the first to get a notification. It was Liam Hayes’s. The host eagerly opened it, still making conversation: “Let’s see who it is—” His voice abruptly cut off, and he stood frozen. Because in the chat window, there was no comfort. None at all. Instead, there was a borderline-inappropriate photo of a man, accompanied by a line of text: “Is it cold in your house? Why are you wearing so much today?” The video ended there. The quality wasn’t great—it was probably filmed by an audience member—but even with poor quality, it was clear enough to see the details in the chat window. The sender’s profile picture was of the actress Chloe Miller, saved under the contact name “Momo.” She had sent the award-winning actor, Liam Hayes, a highly private photo he had never released to the public, accompanied by intimate—even borderline harassing—words! Since Chloe had previously stated in interviews that her childhood nickname was “Momo,” netizens universally concluded this was her. Thus, the relationship between Chloe Miller and Liam Hayes rocketed to the top of the trending list. I rubbed my cheeks, the shock so immense I wondered if I was still dreaming. The conversation with the thirst-trapper was still sitting right there on my screen. With trembling hands, I tapped it open. The exact same content blasted my retinas once again. I had a stark realization—the guy who posted thirst traps on Snapchat every few days was the Hollywood A-lister, Liam Hayes. 02 The trending topic was still blowing up. The most triggered ones were the fans: “Usually you don’t even show an ankle, and you button your shirts all the way to the top. I thought you were the most modest guy out there, but…” “What is this? Liam Hayes’s abs, let me touch! What is this? Liam Hayes’s abs, let me touch!” “Has anyone managed to get a high-res version of this? I need it for my lock screen.” “Just a casual observer here, but is this Liam Hayes’s usual vibe? This is hot.” That last comment had the most replies. I clicked into the thread and was nearly blinded by a screen full of “HE IS NOT!” Undoubtedly, the fans were shocked. But I was equally shocked! I scrolled through the comments, trying to use the fans’ shock to offset my own. Before I could fully process it, a new notification popped up at the top of my phone. It was from my best friend, Chloe, and she sent a screenshot. Chloe: “Audrey, please tell me this isn’t you.” The screenshot was of that exact conversation. Indisputable. I hung my head and admitted: “It’s me.” She sent a string of ellipses and asked genuinely: “How did you manage to strut your stuff right in front of Liam Hayes?” Honestly, I wanted to know too. I was just engaging in some ordinary ogling, how did I end up experiencing social death in front of the entire nation? Although, currently, the one experiencing social death was my best friend… Afraid of causing her trouble, I couldn’t help but ask: “Is this going to be a huge mess?” She replied: “It’s fine on my end. It wasn’t me anyway, I’ll just clarify it. Liam Hayes’s side is the tricky one.” I pursed my lips, still digesting the fact that “the thirst-trapper is Liam Hayes.” My best friend started probing: “What exactly is going on between you and Liam Hayes?” I didn’t know how to answer, so I just said: “He’s the player I told you about before.” My best friend slapped her desk in shock: “So you were the one he was trying to hook all along!” “…” I felt this was basically equivalent to a fairy tale. Liam Hayes and I were complete strangers. He didn’t know me, and I didn’t know him. Or rather, I knew of him; I knew he was a massive star. Aside from that, we had zero connection. How could he possibly be trying to hook me? Just as I denied it, another new message popped up at the top of my phone. It was the other party involved in the scandal. He replied to me. Liam Hayes: “I’ll try to wear less next time then.” “…” Dude, are you sure you didn’t hook the wrong person? 03 If he were just a regular guy on Snapchat, I might have bantered back. But he wasn’t. He was the acclaimed actor, Liam Hayes. I couldn’t fathom how he had the leisure to flirt with me, a stranger on the internet? After the incident, my best friend immediately issued a clarification, stating she was not the person sending the messages. Her friends in the industry also vouched for her, proving that her personal Snapchat was not that account. As for me, I quickly changed my profile picture and display name, terrified that people around me might figure something out. Only Liam Hayes, at the center of the storm, remained completely silent. No PR statement, no clarification. It was as if he had no idea the internet was tearing itself apart over him. The biggest target of criticism was the collapse of his public persona. After all, Liam Hayes had previously been known as Hollywood’s paragon of modesty. He kept his nose clean, had zero scandals, and his life consisted only of acting and hitting the gym. He had almost no other hobbies, and didn’t even touch alcohol or cigarettes, which are ubiquitous in the industry. He was a gentleman, polite, and always covered up. The media had even interviewed him about his habit of “not showing a single inch of skin.” At the time, Liam stated: “Only my wife gets to see my body.” When that interview clip dropped, it was instantly shared and praised by countless netizens, cementing his status as the “modesty paragon.” Let’s just say, the harder they praised him then, the harsher they mocked him now. Because the guy who claimed “only my wife gets to see my body” was secretly blasting thirst traps everywhere. I also felt his public persona was a bit fake. If only his wife could see it, what was he doing posting on Snapchat all day? Photo after photo, I had practically seen his entire body. Was I his wife? As it turned out, I underestimated Liam Hayes’s resilience. The very moment his Snapchat account was exposed, not only did he not lay low, but he actually posted another story that night. Still a photo. But the style was much more explicit than before, and true to his word, he was wearing a little less. I honestly didn’t know what to say anymore. I could only sigh at how incredibly fake Hollywood personas were! Liam Hayes was practically a master-level player, casting a wide net, yet he managed to be called the “modesty paragon” of Hollywood… It was the joke of the century! I decisively chose to block his stories. Unexpectedly, moments later, Liam Hayes actually reached out to me with that same photo. He asked: “Is this okay?” I had no desire to play games with him and asked bluntly: “What exactly do you want?” He was even more blunt: “I want to date you.” I was so freaked out I deleted him right then and there! Even after deleting him, my heart was still pounding. Thank goodness my best friend warned me. Turns out I really was just one of the fish in his pond! 04 I had just escaped the pond, but my best friend was caught in his clutches. It turned out she and Liam Hayes already had a professional connection; they were set to co-star in a commercial for a luxury bottled water brand. The contracts had been finalized ages ago, but the official announcement had been delayed. Now that the collaborating brand saw dating rumors swirling around their two spokesmodels, they decided to capitalize on it. The commercial shoot was urgently moved up on the schedule. Afraid my best friend would be taken advantage of, I warned her repeatedly: “You must be careful around Liam Hayes!” She nodded in agreement. Who knew that on the very first day of shooting, she’d drop a massive bombshell on me. Chloe: “Turns out Liam was the one who recommended me to the brand for this commercial!” My head instantly filled with question marks. While confused, I was also amazed. This guy Liam is casting a seriously wide net! I asked urgently: “How is it? Has he harassed you?” My best friend’s reply surprised me: “No, he’s totally normal. If you hadn’t told me, I would never have imagined he’s that kind of person in private.” I typed back, distressed: “It’s all a persona!” Afraid she’d let her guard down, I called her directly and told her about Liam saying he wanted to date me, emphasizing heavily: “He’s literally just trying to hook whoever he can!” To my surprise, my best friend missed the point entirely: “So he really does want to date you!” Me: “?” She went further off track: “Do you think Liam gave me this commercial gig because of you?” I couldn’t take it anymore, feeling a surge of frustration: “Why are you giving a player such a romantic backstory!” My best friend suddenly laughed: “What if he isn’t a player?” “Of course he is,” I argued. “What normal person posts stories like that? At first, I thought he was looking for a sugar mama.” My best friend laughed harder: “I think the only person he wants to hook is you.” I was speechless: “We don’t even know each other.” “Maybe you two—” Her voice cut off abruptly. Immediately after, a clear male voice came through the phone: “Can I sit here?” Thanks to the internet drama these past few days, I could instantly recognize that this voice belonged to Liam Hayes. Clear, clean, and highly distinctive. “Go ahead,” came my best friend’s voice. After some rustling sounds, Liam asked: “Are you close with Audrey?” “…Yes,” my best friend sounded like she was holding back laughter. “Then do you know why she deleted me?” Liam’s tone was so puzzled. “If she wasn’t satisfied with the photos, I can push the boundaries a bit more.” “Pfft,” my best friend finally laughed out loud. After a long pause, her rather eager voice sounded: “Should I ask her for you?” “Please,” Liam said politely. As soon as he left, my best friend couldn’t hold back her laughter anymore, laughing continuously, making me incredibly annoyed. I snapped: “Stop laughing!” She finally gave a couple of ‘hahas’ and said teasingly: “He seems to know you.” Me: “…” 05 Eggged on by my best friend, I visited the commercial set. The area had been cleared, but a large crowd had still gathered, forming three dense rings of people. Through the crowd, I spotted Liam Hayes right away. This is probably that legendary star quality; he stood there, and my eyes couldn’t see anyone else. He was wearing a solid black tracksuit, looking elegant and tall. Currently, he was bending slightly while his assistant sprayed water on the loose hair at his forehead and temples. It seemed the assistant’s hand slipped, and a mist of water rushed into his eyes. The air froze for a few seconds. I saw him blink his eyelashes lightly, the water droplets sliding down. He opened his sparkling eyes and comforted the assistant: “It’s fine, keep going.” I thought silently, He has a pretty good temper. As if sensing something, Liam looked with pinpoint accuracy in my direction. He looked surprised at first, then panicked, and a few seconds later, quietly averted his gaze. But his pale, jade-like profile slowly turned red, visible even to the naked eye. When I got closer, I even heard the stylist exclaim, “Did you already apply blush?” My best friend was snickering next to me. She whispered teasingly: “You really don’t know him? But he blushed the second he looked at you.” To be honest, I was also quite baffled. Is Liam Hayes really this innocent? But would an innocent person post stories like that? The next second, my best friend cleared up my confusion. Just as the commercial was about to start shooting, she tossed her phone to me, saying simply: “Just added Liam on Snapchat, go look at his stories.” While muttering “What’s there to see,” I obediently tapped it open. The result surprised me. His stories page was completely clean, empty. There was no “Friend only allows viewing of the last 3 days” message, it was just literally empty. But I clearly remembered that when I looked a few days ago, it was full of thirst traps. Did he delete them, or put me on a custom list? Looking at Liam not far away, I found him harder and harder to figure out. The commercial shoot wrapped up quickly, and the crew discussed where to go for dinner. I waited beside my best friend, feeling a gaze seemingly fixed on me. I followed the feeling. No matter from which angle I looked, at the end of that gaze was Liam Hayes. My best friend watched like she was enjoying a show: “If you have something to say, say it. If you have questions, ask. Staring won’t get you any answers.” I was still debating whether to ask when Liam walked over. He was cleaned up and looking sharp, wearing a well-fitted dress shirt and trousers. Uncharacteristically, two buttons at his collar were undone, exposing a small patch of skin. Perhaps because he wasn’t used to exposing skin, as he walked steadily towards us, he subconsciously tugged at the slightly open collar. A very simple movement, but done by him, it was exceptionally alluring. When Liam reached us, he looked at Chloe first and said: “The dinner is at the Grand Hyatt.” My best friend feigned surprise: “Since when do we need you to personally deliver this kind of news?” Liam choked. He seemed to shift his gaze out of embarrassment, quietly turned to me, and without making a sound, mouthed the question: “Are you coming?” I felt a profound sense of absurdity and helplessness in that moment. To me, this action looked exactly like a couple pretending not to know each other in public, while secretly flirting behind everyone’s backs. Were we really that close? It wasn’t the place to talk, but I couldn’t hold back. I took a step closer to him, using a piece of equipment for cover, and whispered: “Do we know each other?” He nodded: “Yes.” “Then the Snapchat stories were…?” He stared at me for a long time, seemingly gathering courage, and said slowly: “The stories were for you.” He leaned in close to my ear, his bright red earlobe right in my line of sight, and added softly and slowly: “Only for you.” Boom. My ears burned red too.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440334”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Twenty years ago, I was stolen from my crib. Most of my life was spent in a maximum-security psychiatric ward, where doctors labeled me a high-functioning sociopath. When my biological parents finally found me, I changed. I didn’t want to scare them, so I became a timid, fragile girl who startled at her own shadow. My mother treated me like glass, brewing bone broth each afternoon and choosing pink lace-trimmed pajamas for me. My father kept his voice soft, afraid to startle me. My brother Connor wouldn’t even let me carry plates, worried I’d get hurt. But today, the act ended. Valerie, the daughter they raised before finding me, came to seize my father’s company shares. She kicked the door in, her billionaire fiancé Peter beside her. She smashed Connor’s arm with a baseball bat, then forced my mother to her knees on broken glass. Peter pointed at me and sneered, “Crawl over and lick my shoes clean. Do it well, and I might leave your bodies whole.” I watched blood drip from my father’s lip. Deep inside, the last thread holding me back snapped. I sighed softly, locked the front door, and picked up a serrated boning knife from the kitchen. Looking at my parents, I said, “Close your eyes. What happens next isn’t for family viewing.” Peter pressed his designer shoe harder into my mother’s hair and let out a bark of laughter. “You’re out of your mind, sweetheart. What are you gonna do with that?” The bodyguard standing next to him cracked his knuckles and raised a steel pipe. I didn’t answer. I just walked toward him, my slippers crunching over the bloody glass. The bodyguard swung the pipe in a lethal arc aiming for my skull. I sidestepped, letting the heavy steel slice through empty air. I grabbed his wrist, locking my fingers around his pulse point, and twisted violently outward. A wet crunch echoed through the living room. Before he could scream, I drove the heavy brass pommel of the knife directly into his temple. He dropped like a sack of wet cement. I wiped the bloody handle on the shoulder of his tailored suit, stepped over his twitching body, and kept walking toward Peter. “Don’t you take another step!” Valerie shrieked, her face pale as she peeked out from behind the ruined sofa. “Do you even know who Peter is?” she yelled, her voice trembling. “The people backing him will wipe you off the map! You lay a finger on him, and the entire Cohen family burns with you!” I stopped. I slowly turned my head to look at her. “Valerie.” She swallowed hard. “What?” “Did you just say you were extorting these shares to save the Cohens?” Her eyes darted around the room. “Look, Riley, I know it sounds awful. But my hands are tied. Peter’s family agreed to inject thirty million into the company, but only if they get controlling interest. Arthur and Eleanor are getting old. Connor’s health is declining. If I marry into his family, I can at least keep an eye on them.” I nodded slowly, letting the words hang in the air. “So, you’re the good guy here.” “I’m glad you finally understand.” “You’re a saint,” I said, staring at the serrated edge of my knife. “So get on your knees.” Valerie’s voice hit a shrill pitch. “Are you psychotic?!” “Yes.” I closed the distance before she could blink. I twisted my hand into her hair and slammed her downward, her kneecaps cracking against the hardwood floor with a sickening thud. My mother pushed herself up, her voice quivering. “Riley.” “Mom, I told you to keep your eyes closed,” I said, my voice completely flat. “I’ll help you change your clothes in a minute. Some ice will take care of the bruises.” Behind me, Peter roared. He snatched up a heavy oak dining chair and hurled it at the back of my head. I tilted my neck. The chair leg grazed my ear and shattered against the wall. Releasing Valerie’s hair, I pivoted. Peter was still frozen in the follow-through of his throw. I looked down at his expensive Italian loafers. “What was that you said earlier? Crawl over and lick your shoes?” Peter took a shaky step back. “Let’s talk about this.” I snapped my leg up and brought the heel of my boot down on the bridge of his foot with every ounce of my weight. Peter let out a guttural shriek, folding completely in half as he collapsed to the side. I grabbed him by his expensive silk tie, dragging his dead weight across the floor until he was inches from my boots. I pressed the tip of the boning knife under his chin, forcing his head up until he was choking on his own tie. “Leaving our corpses intact,” I whispered. “How exactly did you plan to do that?” Peter just gurgled, his mouth full of blood from where he had bitten his own tongue. The remaining two bodyguards exchanged a panicked glance and lunged at me together. I shifted my weight. The blade sliced clean through the first man’s wrist tendons. His steel pipe clattered uselessly to the floor. The second man leaped onto my back, locking his thick forearm around my throat. I dropped my center of gravity, ducked my chin, and threw my head back, smashing my skull directly into the bridge of his nose. Cartilage shattered. He stumbled backward, clutching his ruined face. I walked over to the kitchen sink, casually rinsed the blood off my hands, and looked back at Peter. He was curled up on the rug, cradling his mangled foot. “Security!” he screamed, his voice cracking. He slammed a panic button on his Rolex. “Breach on the perimeter!” I tossed the knife into the fruit bowl and walked over to my brother. Connor was slumped against the wall. His arm was bent at a grotesque angle, his forehead slick with cold sweat. “Connor, how bad is the pain?” “I’m good,” he gasped out, trying to force a smile. “Barely feel it.” I patted his cheek. “Hang in there.” My dad was sitting in the corner. His lip was bleeding, but he wasn’t looking at his attackers. He was just staring at me. Before I could say anything, a heavy rumble shook the driveway. The sound of combat boots marching in unison drowned out the evening crickets. The front doors were blown inward by a breaching charge. The heavy wood and iron hinges collapsed onto our entryway rug, sending a cloud of drywall dust into the air. Richard, Peter’s father, stepped through the smoke. Behind him stood dozens of hardened enforcers, all gripping heavy steel rebar. Richard looked down at his bleeding son, his face twisting in pure rage. Then he looked at his men. “Kill every single Cohen in this house. Make it look like a home invasion gone wrong. Keep it clean.” 2 Connor forced his good arm over my shoulder, desperately trying to pull me behind him. “Riley, get upstairs, hide.” “Connor, put your arm down.” “I’m fine, my arm is fine.” I looked at the swollen, purple flesh of his broken limb. I gently peeled his fingers off my shirt and pushed him back down to the floor. “Sit. Don’t move.” Dozens of steel pipes were raised high. Richard’s men fanned out, boxing us in from every angle. My mom threw her arms around my dad, squeezing her eyes shut. My dad held her tight, but his eyes never left me. I reached into my sweatpants pocket and pulled out a heavy, military-grade walkie-talkie. A faded, peeling sticker of a cartoon panda was slapped on the back. Richard caught sight of the radio and froze for a split second before a cruel smile spread across his face. “You calling for backup with a toy?” “She really is a psycho,” one of his thugs muttered. I pressed the push-to-talk button. “Feeding time.” Static crackled for three agonizing seconds before a deep, gravelly voice replied. “Copy that.” The signal died. Richard raised his hand to signal his men. I didn’t move a muscle. First came the screech of burning rubber, followed by the deafening crunch of crushing metal. The impact vibrated up through the floorboards, rattling the crystal chandelier above us. Richard’s enforcers spun around. Outside, a massive armored transport had just violently rear-ended Richard’s Maybach, launching the luxury car into the garden wall. A chain reaction of collisions echoed through the estate. The lights in the living room flickered. Richard’s smile vanished. In the gaping hole where our front doors used to be, five heavily armored tactical vans pulled up nose-to-tail. Emblazoned on their sides in stark black lettering was the logo. Blackwood Maximum Security Psychiatric Facility. The side doors were kicked open. A massive man with a jagged scar running down his bald head leaped out. He was wearing faded institutional scrubs, and in his hands, he gripped a heavy red fire ax. Behind him poured a tide of men in matching scrubs. They carried bone saws, crowbars, and heavy chains. They crunched over the ruined front doors and filed into the living room. Richard’s thugs froze, their steel pipes suddenly feeling very inadequate. The scarred man, Grimm, looked around the room. He kicked a piece of shattered brick out of his way, walked straight up to me, and dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “Director.” Richard opened his mouth, but no sound came out. I pointed a finger at Richard’s crew. Grimm stood up, turning to face the intruders. He didn’t say a word. He just waved a hand. Three minutes later, every single one of Richard’s men was pinned face-down against the hardwood, groaning in agony, completely immobilized by the inmates. Richard was backed up against the doorframe, his legs visibly shaking. The walkie-talkie in his hand slipped from his sweaty grip and clattered to the floor. Over by the sofa, Valerie was curled into a tight ball, holding her bruised ribs and sobbing hysterically. “Arthur! Eleanor! Please, you have to save me! I’m your daughter! That crazy bitch is going to murder me!” My father, still sitting against the wall, looked up at her through the wreckage. He stared at her for a long time. “You broke my son’s arm.” Valerie’s sobbing hitched. “You dragged my wife by her hair. You tried to make her kneel on broken glass.” He paused, his voice turning to gravel. “You were my daughter. Whenever you cried as a little girl, it broke my heart. But you hurt my real family tonight. I don’t have a heart left for you.” Seeing his opening, Richard scrambled for his dropped phone. He punched in a speed-dial number, turned his back, and whispered frantically into the receiver. Roman. Boss. Help. I let him make the call. I sat down on the floor next to my brother. I ripped the sleeve off his expensive suit jacket and used it to tie a makeshift splint for his broken arm. Every time I moved the bone, he sucked in a sharp breath. “Bite down on this.” I folded his silk tie a few times and shoved it between his teeth. He bit down hard, breathing heavily through his nose, before squeezing a few words out. “Riley. When you were out there.” “Save your breath, Connor.” “You were only seven,” he rasped, ignoring me. “Seven years old. Taken away all by yourself.” “Connor.” “Yeah?” “Does it hurt?” “Yeah. It hurts.” “Then focus on the pain. Don’t get distracted.” He let out a muffled chuckle and bit down on the tie again. Outside, the chaotic sounds of sirens, heavy diesel engines, and shouting bled into the night air. A booming, arrogant voice echoed from the driveway, cutting through the noise. “Which suicidal piece of trash is making a mess on my turf?” I let go of Connor’s splint and slowly stood up. 3 When Roman walked in, the smell of premium Cuban cigars filled the room. He was flanked by an army of heavy-hitters. He stood dead center in our ruined living room, his cold eyes sweeping over Richard’s pinned men, lingering on Grimm who was still kneeling, before finally locking onto me. Richard practically crawled over the debris to reach him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his tailored suit. “Roman! Thank God you’re here!” Richard pointed a shaking finger at me. “That psycho is a stray the Cohens picked off the street! She ambushed us, snapped my boy’s foot, and look at what her freaks did to my cars out front.” “Get to the point,” Roman said, flicking ash onto our rug. “These guys are wildcards. I can’t handle them. I need you to clean this up.” Roman grunted. He raised two fingers. Hundreds of hardened syndicate enforcers flooded the property, completely surrounding the estate. They drew machetes, brass knuckles, and heavy iron bars. Grimm stood up, stepping protectively in front of me, but the sheer number of Roman’s men forced him back a step. Roman strolled over until he was invading my personal space. He looked me up and down. “What’s your name, little girl?” “Riley Cohen.” “Cohen,” he mused, pulling the cigar from his lips. “Do you have any idea how much weight that name carries in this city?” I didn’t blink. “I’ve been backing Richard’s plays for twenty years,” Roman continued, blowing smoke in my direction. “This city is mine. It is not a playground for some mental ward runaway.” He didn’t even look at me as he gave the order to his men. “Hack off both her hands. Throw her out on the Cohens’ front lawn. Let the old man know his family’s credit has officially expired.” “Roman,” I said. “What?” “I’m just wondering,” I said, tilting my head. “When exactly did a dog like you get a new master?” Dead silence fell over the living room. Roman’s hand, still holding the cigar, froze in mid-air. He stood like a statue for three full seconds before slowly lowering his arm. His eyes narrowed as he reassessed me. “Who exactly…” he lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper, “do you work for?” I said nothing. Richard yanked on Roman’s sleeve again. “Roman, don’t listen to her! She’s a lunatic, just put her down.” Roman violently shoved Richard away. He took a deep breath, forcing a tight, unnatural smile onto his face. “Alright, no need to lose our tempers over a misunderstanding.” He turned to his men. “Just restrain them. Nobody dies. We’ll sort out the politics later.” Hundreds of machetes were raised. Connor tried to slide in front of me again. I clamped a hand down hard on his shoulder. “Connor, sit.” “Riley.” “Sit.” I looked down at the screen of my phone. Three minutes and forty-seven seconds. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and looked up. A deep, unnatural vibration began to hum through the floorboards. It was a heavy, rhythmic thudding that made the remaining glass in the windowpanes rattle. Roman frowned. The mechanical roar grew deafening. One of Roman’s scouts sprinted into the living room, completely breathless. “Boss! There are bulldozers outside! Not just one, it’s a whole damn fleet.” Roman spun around. 4 The rusted steel bucket of the first excavator crashed through the front gates, effortlessly crushing a Mercedes into the asphalt. Right behind it came a second, then a third. Five massive, industrial bulldozers drove in a tight formation, plowing over everything in the courtyard, turning luxury cars and pristine landscaping into mud and scrap metal. Roman’s enforcers scattered in a panic, retreating to the edges of the property. Richard was trembling so violently he had to lean against the wall to stay upright. Roman gritted his teeth and pulled out his encrypted phone, dialing a private number. It rang five times before a voice answered. “Speak.” “Carter, it’s Roman. I’ve got a situation in the Metro district. Some girl brought a small army of mental patients and heavy machinery to level Richard’s estate. Run a background check right now. Cohen family. Riley Cohen. I need to know whose toes I’m stepping on.” A heavy, suffocating silence stretched over the line. “Carter?” “Roman,” the voice finally replied. It sounded completely parched. “What is it?” “The name you just gave me. Riley Cohen.” Carter paused, taking a ragged breath. “Are you on site right now?” “Yeah.” “How far away from her are you standing?” Roman glanced back at me. “About twenty feet.” Another agonizing three seconds of silence. “Roman, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Turn around. Walk away. Do it right this second.” “What the hell are you talking about?” “Do you remember who they used to keep locked up at Blackwood Max?” “You mean…” Roman’s voice dropped an octave. “The Director of that facility. The one who is never actually on the payroll. Take a wild guess who that is.” Roman slowly turned his head to look at me. “Roman,” Carter whispered, the fear bleeding through the speaker. “That girl’s file at the Agency is a black hole. It’s a kill-switch dossier. Anyone who even looks at it disappears. If you can walk out of there tonight, you run. You abandon Richard. This is not your fight.” The expensive cigar slipped from Roman’s fingers, burning a hole into the carpet. He didn’t move a muscle. Richard grabbed him, shaking him frantically. “Roman? Roman! Give the order! Kill these freaks.” Roman just stared at me. He took a slow step backward. “Roman, what are you doing?” “I can’t help you.” Roman’s voice was completely hollow. “You’re on your own, Richard.” Richard blocked Roman’s path, gripping his lapels. “You can’t do this! If you walk out, my family is dead! She’s a monster! Twenty years of loyalty and you’re leaving me to die?!” Roman said nothing. He just stared blankly at Richard’s hands on his suit. His bodyguards rushed forward, physically peeling Richard off their boss. Roman adjusted his cuffs and turned his back to me. He took two steps toward the door and froze. “Roman,” I said quietly. He stayed perfectly still, his back facing me. “You know exactly why I’m here tonight.” I paused, letting the silence stretch. “And you know you can’t cover for Richard. Not when it comes to me. You never could.” “What do you want?” he asked, his voice barely a rasp. “Turn around.” After a long pause, Roman slowly pivoted. He stood ten feet away, facing me directly for the first time since the phone call. “I know you have Richard dead to rights tonight,” he said slowly, trying to regain some composure. “But there are lines even you can’t cross. Commissioner Wyatt runs this city’s special investigations. He’s my blood brother. Every move you make, he’ll know.” I didn’t say a word. “Even if you have the Agency backing you,” he reasoned, “you broke into a private residence. You assaulted half a dozen people. That’s a federal crime. Nobody can sweep this much collateral damage under the rug.” Before he could finish his sentence, the deafening roar of helicopter blades shattered the night. The chopper hovered directly over the ruins of our roof. Down in the courtyard, blinding searchlights cut through the darkness, turning night into day. “SWAT! Everyone on the ground! Hands where we can see them!” Dozens of tactical operatives repelled from the walls, crashed through the shattered windows, and stormed the perimeter. They were dressed in full tactical gear, assault rifles raised. Red laser sights painted every single person in the room. Roman’s men didn’t hesitate. Machetes and pipes clattered to the floor as hundreds of gangsters hit the dirt. Richard scrambled toward the SWAT commander, screaming in relief. “Captain! Captain, thank God! It’s this psychotic bitch! She brought these mental patients to slaughter my family! Arrest her! Shoot her.” Valerie pointed a trembling finger at me, wailing. “Officer, she’s insane! She was going to murder us all! Put a bullet in her, my whole family will testify.” Captain Reed ignored them. He scanned the carnage, gave a hand signal for his men to secure the perimeter, and stepped over the groaning bodyguards. He stopped directly in front of me, his assault rifle leveled at my chest. “Hands in the air. Drop the knife.” “You don’t have the clearance for that,” I said, tapping the toe of my boot against a piece of broken glass. “I said, drop the weapon.” “And I said you don’t have the clearance.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Look very closely before you do something stupid.” His finger tightened on the trigger. “Failure to comply will result in lethal force. This is your final warning.” I didn’t drop the knife. I didn’t raise my hands. Instead, I took a step forward, walking right up to him until the cold steel of his gun barrel was pressing into the space between my eyes. “Last chance,” he hissed, his jaw locked tight. “Who the hell are you?” I brushed my hair out of my eyes, tilting my face up into the blinding glare of the tactical flashlights. “See for yourself.” Reed squinted, his eyes tracing the lines of my face. A soft click echoed as his finger slipped off the trigger. The barrel of the rifle slowly dipped toward the floor. Then, with a dull thud, the weapon slipped from his hands entirely. His knees buckled. He collapsed right into the sea of shattered glass. He swallowed hard, his voice cracking into a high, terrified pitch. “You… Commander…” Roman stood ten feet away, watching the scene unfold in absolute horror. Captain Reed, bleeding from his knees on the glass, trembled as he forced the words out. “Supreme Commander… Black Site Zero.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440319”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During study hall, the school’s most popular girl grabbed my childhood best friend, Liam Vance, and demanded: “What do you even like about Chloe? Do you just like those massive cow tits of hers?” “Can you please not be so utterly vulgar?” Countless pairs of eyes landed on me. Some were watching for the drama, some were gloating, and others were purely malicious. Liam gave a helpless sigh and explained, “Our relationship isn’t what you think it is, Summer. I just take care of her like a little sister.” It really wasn’t what Summer Hayes thought. The only reason Liam hovered around me every day, showering me with care and attention, was because his mother was my estate manager. I am the sole heiress of the Vance corporate empire. From the time Liam was a little boy, the only education he received from his mother was how to serve me, please me, and eventually marry into the Vance family to secure her a golden ticket. 01 “First she’s just a friend, then she’s a ‘sister,’ and next thing I know, she’ll be your girlfriend! Liam, it’s her or me. You have to choose!” The veins on Liam’s neck bulged. He weighed his options in agonizing silence, but ultimately gave her no response. Overwhelmingly disappointed, Summer burst into tears and ran out of the classroom. Liam cast a quick, sideways glance at me, gritted his teeth, and chased after her. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if this scene was a flashback before death or reality. Because I was already dead. The day after Liam successfully seized total control of my father’s conglomerate and publicly announced his engagement to Summer, I was pushed into the artificial lake at my family’s estate and drowned. By that point, I had been paralyzed from the waist down and plagued by chronic illness, locked inside the house by Liam. Every single maid and nurse had been replaced; not a single person on the payroll was loyal to me. When I saw their engagement announcement on the news, I expended every ounce of my remaining energy to force Liam to come home. Stripping away his usual gentle, considerate mask, his face twisted into a demonic sneer as his hands clamped around my throat. “I’ve had enough of you, Chloe.” “For years, I threw away my dignity as a man and followed you around like a dog. I couldn’t even go to the college I wanted, and I gave up the chance to study abroad with Summer. I sacrificed everything for you, and that stubborn old bastard of a father still refused to hand the company over to me. He played me for an absolute fool.” “You think just because you have money, you can do whatever you want? You’re just as hypocritical as your father. Today, you’re going to find out exactly what it feels like to struggle at the bottom of the water!” After my father died, Liam’s attitude toward me had slowly turned cold. Once he leveraged my name to fully hijack the Vance empire, his true colors were finally revealed. My father’s drunken drowning in that same lake wasn’t an accident. Liam had orchestrated the whole thing. I looked into his dark, bottomless eyes and saw pure, unadulterated murderous intent. His wings were fully formed; he no longer needed me to act as his good-luck charm to legitimize his reign. His wedding to Summer was approaching. It was time for his hidden, disabled wife to disappear. At the edge of the lake, right as he violently shoved me toward the water, my hands locked onto his collar in a death grip, dragging him straight into the freezing depths with me. A hurricane of pure hatred consumed me. Every single time he thrashed and clawed to reach the surface, I used the very last of my fading strength to drag him back down into the abyss. He murdered my father. If I had to die, I was dragging him straight to hell with me! To ensure my death looked like an accident, Liam had given all the estate staff the day off. In that massive, empty estate, no one was there to hear my cries for help. And now, no one was there to hear his. Right as I confirmed he had completely lost consciousness, I blacked out entirely. When I woke up, I was staring at the current scene. The two of them had just run out the door, and the study hall erupted into chaotic gossip. “Liam is just too nice. Who else would let their maid’s daughter ride to school in his Maybach every day?” “She constantly third-wheels the couple in their own car. No wonder Summer finally snapped…” Then, the crude, mocking laughter of the boys reached my ears. “Hey Tyler, your dad owns Brooks Dairy Farms, right? Tell us, who has bigger udders? Your prize-winning Holsteins, or Chloe?” “Bro, you can’t compare them. Our cows are purebreds and properly mated. They aren’t loose and easy like she is…” “Hahahaha!” They fed off each other’s vile energy, laughing like a pack of hyenas. While I was still processing my shock, a heavy, aluminum can of iced coffee flew across the room and smashed directly into my chest, before clattering onto my desk. Pain. A sharp, piercing pain blossomed in my chest. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a dying hallucination. This was absolute, undeniable reality. I had been reborn into the nightmare that was my high school years. It was today. The day Summer Hayes finally exploded. She had given Liam a final ultimatum: if I rode in the same car with them to school one more time, she would cut ties with him forever. Before study hall even ended, Liam took Summer and left in my chauffeured car. I had to take a cab home in the pouring rain. We got into a horrific crash, leaving me permanently paralyzed from the waist down. I missed over half a semester before returning to school in a wheelchair. By then, Summer and Liam were publicly dating, and because of my disability, the bullying escalated into pure malice. I violently threw my head down and wiggled my toes. Thank God. My legs were perfectly fine. 02 The instigator, Tyler Brooks, laughed hysterically, seeking praise from his cronies. “Did you guys see that? Maximum elasticity!” The group of delinquent boys stared at my chest with blatant, disgusting entitlement. I heard one of them mutter crudely, “Fucking slut.” Smack! The class president slammed a textbook onto his desk. “We’re all classmates here. Don’t cross the line.” Tyler smirked shamelessly. “The Cow Girl doesn’t even mind, why are you playing white knight?” The nickname “Cow Girl” started with Summer. At first, nobody in class treated me like this. Until Summer transferred in. She set her sights on the perfect, wealthy “heir,” Liam Vance, and pursued him relentlessly. After Liam rejected her a few times to keep his facade up, she shifted her crosshairs onto me—the girl who arrived and left with him every single day. In front of all the boys in our class, she announced that I looked like a dairy cow. She claimed that girls with chests that large were promiscuous from a young age, and that they only got that big because men had been groping them. Those filthy, slanderous words acted like Pandora’s box. The moment they were spoken, a demon of pure misogyny was unleashed. Alongside my real name, I was permanently branded “Cow Girl.” At first, they were slightly hesitant, knowing I was dropped off in luxury cars and wore expensive clothes. But thanks to Liam’s deliberate, manipulative blurring of the lines, the entire school began to believe that I was the maid’s daughter, and that Liam—the son of my estate manager—was the true prince of the Vance corporate empire. Under Summer’s passionate pursuit, Liam’s resistance slowly melted. As the two became the school’s golden couple, a horde of Summer’s simps and Liam’s lackeys started targeting me to win their favor. They catcalled me, made sexually explicit jokes, and ruthlessly mocked my “low-class” background. Initially, the “Cow Girl” nickname was contained to our classroom. But one day, my estate manager attended a parent-teacher conference on my behalf. That completely solidified the rumor that I was the maid’s daughter. Soon, the “Cow Girl” moniker echoed through the entire school. Goaded by Summer, the boys even organized a “Brainless Bimbo” poll for the entire high school. Unsurprisingly, I won by a landslide. Ignoring the class president’s warning, Tyler kept throwing insults. “Do you have the nerve to wreck someone else’s relationship, but not the nerve to show your face, Cow Girl?” I took a slow, deep breath. I picked up the heavy aluminum can from my desk and walked straight toward Tyler. “Since you have the audacity to call me ‘Girl’, it’s my responsibility as your superior to teach you how to act like a human being.” Under his utterly bewildered gaze, I smashed the metal can squarely into the center of his forehead. He howled in agony. Taking advantage of his momentary blackout, I grabbed him by the collar, ripped him out of his chair, threw him to the floor, mounted his chest, and started raining slaps across his face left and right. “This is for being a degenerate! “This is for the nicknames! “And this is for barking like a pathetic, rabid dog for a girl who doesn’t even want you!” 03 In the principal’s office. Seeing the bloody scratch marks covering her son’s face, Tyler’s mother raised her hand and lunged forward to slap me. I swiftly ducked to the side. Ms. Parker, my homeroom teacher who was standing right behind me, took the full, ringing force of the slap directly to her face. Ms. Parker had never been a good person. Whenever conflicts arose in her classroom, she always sided with the students who had wealthy, powerful parents. I had reported to her countless times that Tyler and his friends were leading the bullying, catcalling me, and throwing things at my head. Ms. Parker had just looked at me coldly and said: “Where there is smoke, there’s fire. If you behaved like a proper, decent girl, no one would bother you.” God as my witness, what kind of disgusting logic was that? If a fly lands on you, does that mean you’re a piece of rotting garbage? Not only did she refuse to do her job and protect me, but she actually victim-blamed me. Smack! Tyler’s mother gasped in horror, covering her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide. Ms. Parker’s face turned ash gray. “Chloe Vance! Look what you’ve done!” Tyler’s mother had swung with everything she had. A bright red handprint was rapidly blooming across Ms. Parker’s left cheek. “Ms. Parker, Tyler’s mom is the one who slapped you. Why on earth are you blaming me?” Tyler’s mom quickly began apologizing profusely to the teacher, while simultaneously cursing me out. “You little bitch! I was aiming for you! If you hadn’t dodged, I wouldn’t have hit Ms. Parker!” “So I’m just supposed to stand there and let you hit me? The apple truly doesn’t fall far from the tree. No wonder Tyler has absolutely zero class.” Furious, Tyler’s mom raised her hand to strike me again. “Stop right there.” A familiar female voice echoed from the doorway. It was Liam’s mother, my estate manager, Evelyn Thorne. She was dressed in a sharp, tailored business suit, her shoulder-length hair styled in elegant waves. She didn’t look like a housekeeper; she looked like a high-powered corporate executive. “Mrs. Vance! What a surprise to see you here!” Seeing who it was, Ms. Parker instantly flipped her attitude, stepping forward with a fawning, desperate smile. My father was overseas on a business trip and couldn’t make it back. As my dedicated estate manager, it was perfectly normal for Evelyn to come to the school to handle emergencies. Evelyn offered a graceful, weary smile. “Chloe’s parents are so busy with work. We’re all family, so I came in their place. It’s the same thing.” “Of course a maid is busy serving her masters,” Tyler muttered under his breath. Acting as if she hadn’t heard a thing, Evelyn began exchanging pleasantries with Ms. Parker. I lowered my eyes, unable to hold back a cold sneer. This duo, Liam and his mother, were absolute masters at dropping vague, misleading statements that confirmed everyone’s false assumptions. Anyone looking at them would assume Evelyn was the wealthy matriarch, and Liam was the heir, simply letting a poor charity case live with them. When people called me the maid’s daughter, my denials were treated like delusional lies, because Liam and Evelyn never once stepped up to correct the record. Instead, they would pull me aside and lecture me. They’d say, “Don’t stoop to their level. People are just jealous of wealth. Keeping a low profile protects your dad’s company from unwanted attention.” Ms. Parker glanced at me, then gave Evelyn a brief rundown of today’s incident. “Arguments between students are normal, but resorting to physical violence crosses the line. Tyler is injured. In my opinion, you should cover his medical bills, and Chloe needs to give Tyler a formal apology.” “Absolutely not! My Tyler took a beating for no reason. This is not going away that easily!” “What do you propose, Mrs. Brooks?” Tyler’s mom held up five fingers. “This much. And she has to apologize to my Tyler in front of the entire school assembly.” “$50,000?” Evelyn smoothly pulled out a designer checkbook. She turned to me. “Chloe, the car is parked downstairs. Go wait for me in the back.” I walked out, but I didn’t go downstairs. Tyler’s furious complaints drifted through the open door. “Aunt Evelyn, Chloe is just a maid’s daughter! Why are you treating her so well?!” Evelyn’s voice was soft and maternal. “Don’t speak about her like that. She and my Liam grew up together, and I’ve watched over her since she was a little girl. If she makes a mistake, how could I not look after her?” Ms. Parker gushed, “You are simply too kind, Mrs. Vance.” 04 By the time they escorted Evelyn downstairs, I was already sitting in the car. Tyler yanked the car door open and started yelling. “Aunt Evelyn is nice enough to come pick you up, and you’re sitting in the back seat acting like you’re the boss?! Do you have any manners at all?” “You’re talking to me about manners? The guy who makes up degrading nicknames for girls?” Tyler was about to snap back, but Evelyn grabbed his arm. “Let it go. This child has always had a difficult temper. As adults, we just have to be a little more forgiving.” Ms. Parker shook her head in disapproval, and Evelyn offered a tragic, long-suffering sigh. The car pulled away from the school and merged into traffic. “Chloe, we are ladies. We cannot go around getting into physical altercations. It’s inappropriate.” “No boy is ever going to like a girl who is that aggressive and abrasive.” “Besides, you’re all classmates. You have to see each other every single day. There’s no need to make enemies.” “I’ve already smoothed things over with them. You don’t have to apologize in front of the whole school anymore. Just give Tyler a sincere apology in front of the class, and this whole thing will blow over.” She still thought I was the same brainwashed, naive child she had PUA’d for the last decade, assuming she could just pay people off and force me to apologize without even asking what happened. Her “solution” blatantly cemented the narrative that I was the one entirely at fault. “Why didn’t you ask me why I hit him?” In the rearview mirror, Evelyn’s face stiffened for a fraction of a second, before she offered a silent, patronizing smile. “Regardless of the reason, resorting to violence is always wrong.” “Fine. If you think I’m wrong, you go apologize to him. I am not covering a single cent of that check. You can pay it out of your own pocket. And if you can’t handle a minor issue like this properly, I’ll ask my dad to replace you with a competent estate manager.” I had my own independent bank accounts. The massive budget required to run the estate, covering the salaries and expenses of dozens of staff members, was entirely under my control. My dad had assigned a dedicated corporate accountant to manage my books. I pulled out my phone and dialed Mr. Reed. “The estate manager just wrote a check for $50,000. Void it immediately. Do not let the bank clear it.” Hanging up the phone, I looked at the familiar city streets outside the window and ordered Evelyn to take a different route home. Even though the driver today wasn’t Arthur—who in my past life had taken cold medicine before driving—taking a different route gave me peace of mind to avoid the crash entirely. Before I closed my eyes to rest, I caught a glimpse of Evelyn in the rearview mirror. Her face was absolutely livid. Evelyn Thorne arrived at the Vance estate when I was five years old. My mother had just passed away, and my dad was drowning in corporate expansion. Originally hired as a nanny, Evelyn slowly morphed into a mother figure in my life. Her promotion to head estate manager was largely because of me. My dependence on her eventually surpassed my reliance on my constantly traveling father. Who could have guessed she harbored the ambition of a starving wolf? From the time I was a child, she began systematically gaslighting me. She subtly brainwashed me with toxic, outdated ideals: Men conquer the world, women manage the home. Girls should be submissive, quiet, and excessively forgiving. She deliberately manufactured endless opportunities for me to be alone with her son, paving the way for Liam to secure my heart—and by extension, the entire Vance empire—before we even graduated. Evelyn and Liam’s current behavior made them look more like the masters of the house than I did. When we got home, my chauffeured Maybach still hadn’t returned. Because of the voided check, Evelyn was in a foul mood, her tone sharp and snappy. “The young master still isn’t back yet?” Martha, our loyal maid, took my backpack and blazer, shaking her head. “No, ma’am.” “Arthur is so incredibly reckless! Keeping Liam out wandering the streets this late! Do you have any idea what time it is? Are you too stupid to call him and tell him to hurry up?!” Arthur was my dedicated driver. He was also Evelyn’s younger brother, and Liam’s uncle. After Evelyn secured her iron grip on the Vance household, it didn’t take long for Arthur to be appointed as my personal chauffeur. In my past life, when I was abandoned at school, I called Arthur to come back and get me. He casually told me that Liam had an urgent matter to attend to and couldn’t be interrupted, telling me to just hail a cab. I was so blinded by heartbreak over Liam leaving with Summer that I didn’t even think to call my dad. And then the crash happened.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440335”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 In the middle of the most important day of my life, our wedding officiant was working the crowd with his overly sentimental routine. He suddenly turned the spotlight on me and Silas, flashing a charismatic smile as he asked what we were each best at after seven years of being in love. The eyes of every single guest in the ballroom zeroed in on us, brimming with warmth and curiosity. My cheeks burned. Deep down, I was secretly hoping Silas would say something incredibly sweet, like “She is best at loving me.” Instead, Silas casually twisted the platinum wedding band on his finger. A mocking smirk curled the corners of his lips as he spoke into the microphone with terrifying nonchalance. He said he was not particularly good at anything. But then his gaze shifted to me. He told the crowd that I was an absolute pro at being a hooker. The grand ballroom instantly plunged into a dead, horrifying silence. The only sound was the sleazy, muffled snickering coming from his frat boy friends in the front row. The officiant began sweating bullets. He desperately tried to smooth things over, laughing awkwardly and saying the groom was quite the joker, adding that I must be an amazing cook. Silas brutally cut the officiant off, emphasizing every single syllable as he clarified that he was not talking about cooking. Right there, in front of five hundred people, he used the absolute filthiest language to describe what a working girl was. He told the entire room that I was a cheap escort who had slept with countless men, entirely used up and worn out. … Five hundred guests. Not a single person breathed. I stood beside him in the custom gown that took three months to make, a deafening ringing echoing in my ears. In the third row, my mother sat frozen in her chair. Her lips were trembling violently. The private nurse beside her had to hold her down with both hands to keep her from collapsing. Meanwhile, Silas’s mother, Eleanor, sat perfectly upright. She gracefully lifted her crystal champagne flute and took a delicate sip. She knew. She knew exactly what he was going to say. I gripped my bridal bouquet so tightly that my manicured nails dug right into my palms, sending sharp spikes of pain up my arms. The whispers began rippling through the banquet hall like a plague. “The new bride used to be a working girl?” “No wonder Eleanor refused to give her blessing and dragged this out for seven years.” “With a face like that, I am honestly not surprised.” The officiant looked helplessly at the wedding planner, who was shaking her head frantically. I finally managed to find my voice. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. “Silas, what the hell are you talking about?” He slowly turned his head to look at me. Raising his hand, he gently wiped away a single tear that had slipped down my cheek. The gesture was so light, so incredibly tender. It was like the monster who just spoke those vile words was an entirely different person. “Nora,” he murmured my name, his thumb tracing my jawline. “Do you really think I would stand at my own wedding and spout nonsense?” One of his groomsmen whistled loudly from the floor. My entire body started to shake. Seven years. I had been with Silas for seven years. From our college days to entering the workforce, from squeezing into a tiny rented apartment to moving into his massive estate. For seven years, he took the drinks meant for me at parties. He sat with me in emergency waiting rooms. He gave me every ounce of romance a girl could ever dream of. I genuinely thought he loved me. Now, I was second guessing everything. It took every ounce of willpower I had just to keep my feet planted on the stage and avoid passing out. The wedding abruptly ended in absolute chaos. Guests scurried toward the exits, whispering furiously. I saw dozens of phones raised in the air, recording the fallout. I could not even begin to fathom the digital bloodbath and harassment waiting for me online. Silas grabbed my wrist in a vice grip and dragged me all the way to the hotel’s penthouse bridal suite. The second the heavy doors clicked shut, he let go. He walked straight to the minibar and poured himself a heavy glass of bourbon. I stood frozen in the entryway, the long train of my white gown pooling on the carpet around me. “Why?” I asked him. “If you didn’t want to marry me, you could have just walked away. No one forced you to stand there. Why did you publicly ruin me with lies?” He threw the bourbon back in one gulp. Turning to look at me, a sudden smile broke across his face. “Who said I didn’t want to marry you?” He closed the distance between us step by agonizing step, stopping only when he was mere inches away. He lowered his head and pressed a bruising kiss against my lips. “Listen to me very carefully, Nora.” “Your past, every single guy who ever put his hands on you, every time you opened your legs for cash, I know all of it.” “But I still put a ring on your finger.” “Do you know what that means?” His voice dropped to a dark, obsessive whisper. “It means I love you, Nora. I love you so damn much that I am willing to claim even the filthiest parts of you.” My tears spilled over, splashing hotly against the back of his hand. He seemed incredibly satisfied with my reaction. He pulled me into a suffocating embrace, resting his chin heavily on the top of my head. “Be a good girl. Stop crying. Now that you are my wife, absolutely no one will ever dare bring up your dirty little secrets again.” He held me so tight I could barely breathe. The steady thumping of his heartbeat vibrated against my chest. I closed my eyes in his arms, only one thought screaming through my mind. Not a single thing he just said was true. 2 I was never a hooker. But I had stepped foot into that kind of world. Seven years ago, when I was eighteen, I spent forty seven nights sleeping on the cold linoleum floor of the hematology ward at Harbor City General. My mother, Helen, had acute leukemia. The day her diagnosis came in, the lead oncologist pulled me into his office and told me the bone marrow transplant and post op care would cost roughly eight hundred thousand dollars. Eight hundred thousand. My father died when I was six. He left behind a leaky roof over our heads and a measly three thousand dollars in a savings account. I barely scraped through high school on financial aid. My entire life savings consisted of four thousand dollars I earned pulling double shifts at a local coffee shop. I got down on my knees and begged the local welfare office. I begged the charities. I begged the reviewers on medical crowdfunding websites. I only managed to raise sixty thousand dollars. A drop in the ocean. Eventually, someone handed me a business card with an address. 88 Golden Crest Avenue. A high end private club called The Velvet Lounge. I went. The madam running the floor took one look at me and asked how old I was. I told her eighteen. She tossed me a form fitting dress and dragged me to the door of a VIP room on the third floor. “Go in there, pour their drinks, smile, and make small talk.” She leaned against the doorframe and lit a cigarette. “You don’t need to do anything else. You are too skinny anyway, none of these guys want a stick figure in their bed. Two thousand bucks a night. Do you want the job or not?” I took the job. I was not a hooker. I was a bottle girl. I poured whiskey, lit cigars, swallowed insults, got forced to drink until I threw up, dodged wandering hands, and endured endless sleazy remarks. But I never sold my body. During those forty seven days, I worked thirty nine night shifts at The Velvet Lounge. There was one night a heavily intoxicated client pinned me against a leather sofa. I slammed my knee directly into his groin. The floor manager docked my pay for three days. The manager looked at me with absolute disgust. “If you don’t want to play the game, get out. There is a line of pretty girls around the block begging for this job.” I did not get out. Because my mother’s surgery bills had to be paid. Every night, I clocked out at 2 AM. I walked forty minutes through the sketchy part of town back to the hospital, slept for exactly three hours on a waiting room bench, and woke up at 6 AM to make my mother oatmeal. I saved up eighty thousand dollars. Combined with the crowdfunding money, it was barely enough to cover the initial surgical deposit. The day we got the news of a successful bone marrow match, I locked myself in the hospital stairwell and cried hysterically for twenty minutes. Then I splashed cold water on my face, walked into my mother’s room, and told her the university had granted me a massive scholarship. Silas met me in that very same hospital corridor. He was visiting his sick grandfather in the VIP wing. He walked past the hematology ward and saw me curled up into a tight ball, fast asleep on a plastic bench. He told me later that he stood there and watched me for five whole minutes. “You were smiling in your sleep,” he had said. “I really wanted to know what you were dreaming about.” Those were the very first words he ever spoke to me. Throughout our seven years together, I buried my time at The Velvet Lounge deep in the darkest corner of my mind. It was not out of guilt. It was because I knew exactly how the real world worked. If you try to explain that you were just pouring drinks, society will simply nod and say, ‘Sure, so you were a hooker.’ I really thought I had buried it deep enough. Until last night, the eve of our wedding. Silas took a call in his study. His voice was hushed, but I was standing right outside the door and heard every word perfectly. “You saw the files? The ones Daphne sent over?” “…It is just a few photos. I already knew she used to work in a place like that. I don’t need you reminding me.” He hung up, pulled open the heavy oak door, and froze when he saw me standing there. He didn’t explain. He didn’t ask. He just reached out and ruffled my hair. “Go to bed early.” In that exact moment, every survival instinct in my body screamed that the wedding tomorrow was going to be a disaster. But I was too terrified to ask. For seven years, I was too terrified to breathe a word about The Velvet Lounge. I was so scared that if I pulled at that loose thread, everything we built would unravel. And in the end, it unraveled anyway. It shattered into a million unfixable pieces in front of five hundred people. 3 Even the next morning, my brain was still lost in a dense fog. Silas practically dragged me to his family’s sprawling estate to perform the post wedding formalities. His mother, Eleanor, was sitting perfectly poised on a velvet armchair. Standing right beside her was a gorgeous, elegant woman. I recognized her from photos. Her name was Daphne. When I knelt on the rug to offer Eleanor her morning coffee as a traditional sign of submission, she completely ignored the cup. “Stay on your knees.” She slowly twisted the diamond ring on her finger. “If Silas absolutely insists on marrying you, I cannot stop him. But we are setting ground rules right now.” “First, now that you are in my house, your dirty past is buried. You will not breathe a word of it to anyone. If you cannot keep your own mouth shut, I will shut it for you.” “Second, Daphne is a girl I watched grow up. She has been Silas’s best friend since childhood. You might be the wife, but do not ever get in her way.” Get in her way? The fine china cup in my hands rattled. Daphne let out a delicate little scoff. “Oh, Eleanor, what are you saying? She is my pure, innocent new friend.” She dragged out the word ‘pure’, her eyes practically glowing with undisguised malice. Eleanor patted the back of Daphne’s hand, looking at her with nothing but absolute adoration. I held that scalding cup of coffee in the air for a full hour. My arms were trembling so violently I thought my shoulders would snap. Finally, Eleanor reached out to take it. I let out a breath, thinking she was finally going to drink it. The next second. A sharp splash. She threw the burning hot coffee directly into my face. “Formalities are done. Get out of my sight.” Walking out of the estate, I sat in the back of Silas’s luxury SUV without uttering a single syllable. Silas drove with one hand draped casually over the steering wheel, glancing at me through the rearview mirror every few minutes. “Cat got your tongue?” I shook my head. “Are you throwing a tantrum over a little coffee? Honestly, you should be…” I cut him off softly. “I’m not.” I was simply processing the realization that it was finally time to pull the plug on this relationship. That night, I sat wide awake on the edge of the mattress until the sun came up. Just as the sky began to turn a bruised purple, a violent chill wracked my body, followed instantly by a tidal wave of nausea. I scrambled off the bed and practically crawled into the master bathroom, gripping the edges of the marble sink as I dry heaved until tears blurred my vision. After a brutal wave of stomach cramps, I stared blankly into the mirror, a horrifying realization slamming into my brain. My period was exactly two weeks late. With shaking hands, I yanked open the bottom drawer of the vanity and dug out an old pregnancy test I had stored away months ago. Those agonizing minutes of waiting felt like standing on the gallows with a noose around my neck. The pink dye slowly crept across the window. One line. Two lines. I was pregnant. But out of all the moments in my life, why did it have to be right now? Silas suddenly pushed the bathroom door open. His eyes instantly locked onto my right hand before I could hide the plastic stick behind my back. “You’re pregnant?” I dug my fingernails into my palms and gave a stiff, mechanical nod. “Yes.” He slowly crouched down to my level, looking me directly in the eyes for the first time in two days. “Whose kid is it?” My entire body flinched. I genuinely thought it was a sick joke. “Yours, obviously. Our baby.” He stared at me in complete, suffocating silence. “We are getting a paternity test anyway.” My heart felt like it completely stopped beating. “What?” “We are doing a paternity test. Once there is medical proof it belongs to me, I will claim it.” I locked myself inside that bathroom and threw up for another hour. It was not morning sickness. It was pure, unadulterated disgust. Three days later, someone violently shoved me from behind while I was walking back from the grocery store. I fell hard against the concrete. I lost the baby. The ER doctor told me my body was already incredibly weak, and the massive spike in cortisol from my emotional distress turned the fall into a threatened miscarriage that could not be stopped. I lay alone in the sterile hospital bed, calling his cell phone. I dialed twelve times. He ignored every single one. On the thirteenth attempt, his executive assistant finally answered. “Mrs. Kensington, the CEO is currently in a high level board meeting. Would you like me to pass along a message?” Two hours later, the assistant appeared at my hospital room door. She set a plastic bag on the bedside table. Inside was a generic thermal food container. “Mr. Kensington asked me to drop this off. He said you need to get plenty of rest.” I popped the lid off the container. It was cheap takeout, and it was completely cold. He did not show up to the hospital until 11 PM that night. He walked through the door, immediately crinkled his nose at the smell of antiseptic, and looked at me. “It’s gone?” I nodded. He sat on the edge of the mattress and stayed silent for a few agonizing seconds. “Probably for the best. With everything going on right now, it is really not a good time to bring a kid into this.” He pulled out his phone, scrolled through a few business emails, and then gave my hand a dismissive pat. “Go to sleep early.” He walked out. My phone vibrated on the sheets. It was a text from my mother. “Is Silas treating you right? Because if he is hurting you, just…” I stared at the screen for a long time before typing out a reply. “Mom, I am doing great. Don’t worry about me.” Then I shut off my phone and buried my face into the hospital pillow. 4 The day I was discharged. Silas had booked a private dining room at an upscale hotel, claiming he had to host a dinner for crucial business partners and could not come to pick me up. I nodded. It was probably for the best. I honestly had no idea what kind of mask I was supposed to wear around him anymore. But the moment I stepped into the empty estate, his assistant called in a panic. “Mrs. Kensington, Silas had way too much to drink and his cough is acting up horribly. Could you please come check on him?” Ever since winter started, his bronchitis had been severe, so I always kept a special honey and loquat syrup brewed in the fridge. I hesitated for a few seconds, but my muscle memory took over. I heated it up, poured it into a thermos, and took a cab to the hotel. Third floor. I could hear the raucous laughter echoing down the carpeted hallway before I even reached the door. Pushing it open, I immediately recognized the faces around the table. Preston, Blake, and Connor. They were Silas’s closest business associates, and the exact same men who had laughed the loudest from the front row at our wedding. The second I walked in. Preston raised his whiskey glass at me. “Look who it is! The missus finally graces us with her presence.” Blake chimed in with a sleazy grin. “Silas keeps his toys locked up tight. Didn’t want to share his gorgeous wife with the boys.” The atmosphere seemed casually toxic, exactly what I expected from them. But I immediately noticed Silas’s expression. He had a smirk painted on his lips, but his eyes were completely dead and devoid of warmth. I cleared my throat. “I just came to drop off Silas’s medicine. I will head out now.” Connor quickly slid out of his chair and blocked the door. “Don’t be like that, Nora. You’re already here, you have to stay for a drink.” “I really can’t. I have things to handle at home.” I subconsciously gripped the thermos tighter, turning to look pleadingly at Silas sitting at the head of the table. He finally opened his mouth. “Sit down. We will go home together when I’m done.” Trapped, I had no choice but to take a seat at the far end of the table. After a few more rounds of drinks, Blake pulled out his phone and loudly cleared his throat. “Silas, I’m in a great mood tonight. I want to show the boys something really special.” He mirrored his phone screen onto the massive flat screen TV mounted on the wall. The screen lit up. It was a video, heavily blurred and pixelated, but it was unmistakably a man and a woman in a hotel bed. The woman in the footage was pinned down, her muffled but provocative noises filling the room. Blake pointed an accusing finger at the screen, a vicious smile on his face. “Do any of you recognize the star of the show?” Preston squinted at the screen. “Too blurry, man. Who is it?” Blake cut his eyes directly to me, his smirk widening into a predatory grin. “It’s Silas’s wife.” All the blood in my body violently rushed to my head. “That is not me.” I shot up from my chair, my voice trembling with rage. Blake leaned back, draping his arm over his chair. “Oh, come on, Nora. Stop playing innocent. Three years ago at The Velvet Lounge, I was the very first guy to get a taste of you.” My brain short circuited. The woman in that video was absolutely not me. The voice was wrong, the body type was wrong. But the deepfake blur was so thick you could not prove a damn thing. Connor practically jumped out of his seat, pulling his own phone out and waving it in the air. “I’ve got a clip too! I bought a night with her a month after you did. Honestly, she was a screamer.” Preston scoffed loudly. “Give me a break, she was way louder when I had her. That night we—” “It is not me.” I spoke again, my whole body shaking uncontrollably now. “The woman in those videos is not me!” All three men turned to look at me simultaneously, before bursting into a chorus of obnoxious, booming laughter. Blake slammed his hand on the table. “Nora, you are already married to the guy! What is the point of acting like a virgin now?” I snapped my head toward Silas. He was leaning casually against the back of his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, completely silent. I threw myself across the table, desperately grabbing his forearm. “Silas, look at the videos! Look closely, that is not me! I swear that is not—” Connor took a swig of his beer and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, let’s settle this right now. Who made the missus scream the loudest?” The three of them erupted into another fit of disgusting laughter. The next second, Silas slammed his glass down. He pulled his own smartphone from his pocket, unlocked it, and pulled up a video file. No deepfake blur. No pixels. The footage was sickeningly clear. It was me. It was me and him. A video taken inside our own marriage bed, inside the sanctuary I foolishly believed held the last remaining shreds of his love. He tossed the phone into the center of the table and leaned back. “Stop arguing,” he slurred, his voice dripping with arrogant, drunken pride. “She’s loudest with me.” Preston leaned over the table, his eyes glued to Silas’s screen, and let out a low whistle. “Damn, Silas wins. That is definitely the loudest.” Blake raised his glass in a toast. “The undisputed champion. Hats off to you, brother.” My mind completely blanked out. I lunged across the wood, frantically clawing at the table to grab his phone. Silas’s brow furrowed in annoyance. He backhanded me right across the face. The sheer force sent me crashing over the glass coffee table. Empty liquor bottles shattered in every direction. Jagged shards of glass sliced deep into the palms of my hands. The private room went dead silent for a split second. “Are you insane?” He stared down at me with pure disgust. Blood was steadily dripping from my palms onto the carpet, but the physical pain didn’t even register. “Delete the video.” I dropped to my knees amidst the broken glass, my voice entirely broken. “Silas, please. I am begging you. Delete it.” He leaned down, grabbing my jaw with a grip so tight I felt my cheekbones bruising under his fingers. “Nora, when you were hooking at The Velvet Lounge, did you beg your clients to delete their videos too?” He violently twisted my face toward the three men sitting at the table. “You let them look at you all they want, but suddenly I’m the bad guy? Or is it that you just love showing off for other men, but your own husband isn’t allowed to watch?” Tears completely blinded my vision. He let go of my face, picked up his bourbon glass, and went right back to drinking with his friends. I stayed on my knees on the floor, bleeding from both hands. The four men in the room carried on laughing and talking business. Not a single one of them looked down at me. I honestly have no memory of how I managed to stand up. I only remember that the hallway outside that room felt like it stretched on for miles. I walked for what felt like an eternity, finally pushing open the heavy glass doors of the hotel lobby. It was pouring rain outside. The bitter November rain chilled me down to the marrow of my bones. I stood completely still in the torrential downpour, digging my phone out of my soaked coat pocket. The screen lit up, illuminating Silas’s profile picture. The very last message in our chat history was from the night before the wedding. “What are you doing? I miss you.” Staring at those words, a hollow, bitter laugh escaped my lips. It was all just so utterly pathetic. I powered down the phone. I tilted my head up, letting the freezing rain wash the blood and tears completely off my face. Seven years. That was more than enough. It was time for Nora to leave.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440320”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The female lead came to confront me: “Using a baby to trap Carter is truly shameless!” The next second, catching a glimpse of Carter appearing in the doorway, I rolled my eyes and fainted on the spot. 01 I transmigrated into a book. The female lead of this romance novel is Serena Brooks, and the male lead is Ethan Vance. The main antagonist, the second male lead, is Carter Hayes, Serena’s childhood friend. Serena and Carter both grew up in difficult circumstances and supported each other through their tough childhoods. Carter always kept that warmth close to his heart. Later, Carter went out of state to make his fortune and achieved great success. When he returned, Serena had already been swept off her feet by a domineering billionaire CEO. Consumed by jealousy, Carter began stirring up trouble for the constantly tearful female lead. Simply put, it’s a classic “childhood friend loses to the newly arrived billionaire” trope. I was pretty annoyed when I read it. I mean, you’re the female lead, you’ve already chosen the billionaire, so why do you keep crying to the second male lead? Even if you don’t have other friends to confide in, you know he’s in love with you, right? How do you think the male lead feels seeing you resting your head on Carter’s shoulder? And Carter, that idiot, actually strokes her hair affectionately! It’s like they’re trying to give the male lead an aneurysm. Alright, somehow, inexplicably, I’ve transmigrated into this mess. And of all people, I’m the plot device wedged between Carter and Serena. Well, since I’m here and have no intention of going back, I might as well cause some chaos. I checked myself out in the mirror. I have to admit, it’s pretty impressive. My character, Chloe Sterling, is hot. Like, seriously gorgeous! “Carter, this is my boyfriend, Ethan.” The delicate and charming Serena hooked her arm through the male lead’s, smiling sweetly like a summer peach. Seeing Carter’s face turn as dark as the bottom of a scorched pan, I smoothly sidled up next to him. According to the plot, this is where he’s supposed to pull me close. And declare that I’m his girlfriend. Sure enough, a strong arm wrapped around my waist. I looked up shyly. Holy crap! He’s so handsome. “Yes, I’m his girlfriend.” Whoops, spoke too soon… 02 Thankfully, Carter was a bit tipsy and just spaced out for a second without minding my eagerness. Serena’s expression instantly fell. Look at her, this is exactly what she does! If you don’t want to be with someone else, then you should be smiling! Wearing that disappointed look right in front of Carter makes him think you still have feelings for him! I quickly blocked Carter’s view and grabbed his hand. “Honey, look at them holding hands so tightly. They’re so in love.” Carter’s gaze drifted down, and his face grew even darker. Darker than a stormy night. “You’ve had too much to drink. Let me help you back so we can get to bed early… er, get some rest.” I half-dragged, half-pulled Carter away, completely ignoring Serena’s scrutinizing stare. A big bed, a handsome guy, and a drunk handsome guy at that. Just as the mood was getting perfect, Carter’s phone rang. Knowing the plot, I knew exactly who it was: Serena calling to ruin my night. He groggily reached for his phone. Yoink. I grabbed it, turned it off, and tossed it on the floor. What a wonderful night~ 03 The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, I saw Carter looking like he had been severely wronged. “You…” “Waaaahhh.” I beat him to the punch and started fake-crying. Because I knew he couldn’t stand seeing a woman cry. He looked intimidating on the outside, but was a total softie on the inside. Otherwise, how could he keep falling for Serena’s tears over and over again? A tissue was thrust in front of my face. “I can take responsibility for what happened, but I need to be clear with you.” “I already have someone I love in my heart.” Duh, tell me something I don’t know. And just like that, I officially became Carter’s shadow. At first, he was very annoyed and always told me to go do my own thing. Nonsense. I transmigrated here for entertainment. I had zero interest in that iceberg male lead who blew hot and cold. “I’m already yours.” “I’ll miss you today, miss you tomorrow, and miss you the day after tomorrow.” “I don’t care what you do, as long as I can be with you, that’s enough.” “I’m willing to wait for you forever, even if you’re waiting for someone else.” “Also, my family is super rich, so I don’t even need to go to work.” After that barrage of sweet talk, Carter went silent. Silence = consent. Yep, I deliberately ignored the way he looked at me like I was an alien. Slowly, Carter got used to having me around. Even though he rarely spoke to me. Even though he often stared blankly at pictures of Serena on his phone. Even though he often got furious looking at pictures of Ethan. But the end result was always the same: getting drunk and getting pushed down by me. “Serena, what’s wrong?!” A ringing phone in the middle of the night woke me up. My bad, I forgot to turn his phone off this time. 04 “Stay put at Mirror Lake, I’m coming right now.” Carter swiftly rolled out of bed and vanished out the door. Even Usain Bolt would applaud that speed. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. I dialed Ethan’s number. “Who is this?” “Ethan Vance, are you even a man?” “Why are you bullying my bestie, Serena?” “The first person Serena looks for when she’s heartbroken is Carter.” “Do you know how dangerous it is for a girl to be alone at Mirror Lake in the middle of the night?” “In her heart, the way you treat her doesn’t even compare to Carter.” “Reflect on your actions!” I let out a long breath. A while later, I heard arguing at the front door. I threw on Carter’s jacket and walked out barefoot. “Serena! Didn’t I tell you I don’t want you seeing Carter alone?” “What gives you the right to yell at Serena! You only ever hurt her!” “Do you know how hard Serena was crying?” Serena stood between them, her eyes red. “Ethan, hearts aren’t made of stone.” “You keep hurting Serena, are you sure she’ll keep loving you?” I stood up for her with a serious face of righteous indignation. Serena’s expression changed instantly. Furious, Ethan grabbed Serena and planted a passionate kiss on her. Serena went weak in the knees. She obediently let him lead her to his car by the hand. “Serena, Serena…” “Didn’t you say he treats you badly?” “Didn’t you say… I’m the only one who makes you feel safe?” Ethan’s footsteps paused for a second. He threw her hand off and got into the car. Serena threw back one last sentence: “I was just too heartbroken. I… I love Ethan.” “I’m sorry.” And hurriedly got into the car. Wow~ Crash~ Whose heart just shattered? 05 Carter locked himself in his room for two days without coming out. I get it, heartbreak doesn’t heal overnight. I lay on the couch, hugging a bag of potato chips, with a boba tea in my other hand. Gotta be full and energized to heal his wounds, right? On the third day, I made my move. If he starved himself any longer, his nice body would waste away. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work in the kitchen. A huge plate of fragrant sweet and sour ribs, glossy and aromatic. I also scooped a bowl of white rice. I knew sweet and sour ribs were the second male lead’s favorite. It was the only dish the female lead ever made for him when they were kids. I pushed open the door and saw someone who wasn’t wearing any clothes. “Blegh—” 06 The sadness that had been plastered on Carter’s face for days finally cracked. “Chloe Sterling, what is your problem! You—” His yelling stopped abruptly when he saw the food in my hands. I blinked my innocent, big eyes. “Carter, take me to the hospital, please.” Once I saw the positive pregnancy test, my heart settled. Man, I’m good. I’m very pragmatic; no time to lose, things change too fast. Having a baby makes everything much more secure. I knew Carter loved kids. In the original plot, his biggest wish was to build a warm family with Serena. To have children that belonged to both of them. After confirming my pregnancy, Carter changed. He changed in a way that scared me a little. Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night to find him sitting in the living room, wide awake. Looking weighed down by heavy thoughts. Sometimes I’d catch him staring at my belly, careful but lost. I don’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones, but I suddenly started feeling a little insecure. Well, just a little bit. A few days later, Carter brought a strange older woman home. 07 The woman’s name was Mary, and she seemed very warm and friendly. Carter just briefly explained that she was his godmother, here to take care of me. He told me to call her godmother too, saying we were all family now. When Carter said we were all family, my heart suddenly fluttered. Family. When Carter went to work, Godmother managed all the cooking and cleaning around the house. Well, mostly she supervised the hired help to make sure they did a good job. She also often chatted with me about everyday things. To be honest, I was very curious about her. Because I didn’t remember this character existing in the original novel. Or maybe her appearances were too brief for me to remember. It seems my meddling since arriving here has caused a butterfly effect. Could I change the ending? “Chloe, I just love girls who are as decisive and straightforward as you.” Godmother looked at me, smiling like a sunflower. “When Carter came to see me, I guessed right away there was good news.” “He hasn’t smiled like that in ten years.” Uhh— Isn’t that a line usually reserved for the female lead? 08 Lately, because of morning sickness, my temper has been a bit volatile. My cravings got weird, and my mood swung wildly. Godmother kept treating me like a spoiled child, indulging me in everything. Whenever I nagged Carter, she always took my side. Seeing his helpless expression, too afraid to provoke me, I felt an inexplicable sense of joy. What if it’s not that he didn’t dare, but that he couldn’t bear to? Just as I was throwing another tantrum at Carter, he finally lost his patience. “Chloe, don’t push it!” I felt a wave of grievance and burst into loud sobs. Godmother rushed over in a panic. “Oh my, Carter, why are you upsetting our Chloe again?” “Our Chloe is beautiful, obedient, and devoted to you.” “You couldn’t find someone like her if you searched the whole world with a lantern.” “Look how haggard Chloe has gotten lately, all for your baby.” “Whatever she wants, just give it to her. If she scolds you, just take it—” I curled up in Godmother’s arms, making a lot of noise but shedding very few tears. Carter frustratingly punched a throw pillow. He interrupted Godmother’s scolding. “Godmother!” “She insists on eating an airplane meal in the middle of the night! Where am I supposed to find that for her?!” His voice trembled with a hint of grievance. 09 The room went silent for a moment. I also sniffled, feeling a little embarrassed. Godmother looked at me. “Chloe, do you really want to eat it? Think carefully, think very carefully.” I thought seriously for a whole minute. “Godmother, I really want it. I crave it so much.” Godmother and I locked eyes on Carter. An hour later, a still-warm airline meal was placed in front of me. Carter stood before me, his awkward expression resembling a child craving praise. So cute. “Carter, you’re amazing, love you!” I didn’t hold back on the praise. I’ve got a basket full of free sweet talk. A blush crept onto his cheeks, and he gave a feigned impatient “Mhm.” I scooped a spoonful and put it in my mouth. Carter watched my reaction with hopeful eyes. “Blegh—” “It’s gross. Take it away, I want to sleep.” The air fell silent once again. “Chloe Sterling!” I thought life would just continue peacefully like this. Until the frantic ringing of the doorbell shattered the quiet. 10 The ghost that wouldn’t leave, Serena, had arrived. With tears brimming in her eyes. “Carter, I—” Mid-sentence, Serena looked at me awkwardly. Oh, so there are secrets I’m not allowed to hear. Well, I’m not leaving. Carry me out if you can. I pretended not to see Carter signaling me to leave, stuffing my mouth with the healthy snacks Godmother made. “Cough, Serena, it’s fine, go ahead. Are you in some kind of trouble?” Duh, obviously. What other use is the second male lead for? “Carter, I’m doomed this time…” It turned out she volunteered to take charge of a very important project at Ethan’s company. Lacking professional competence, she even publicly insulted the clients for being arrogant and overly demanding. As a result, she blew it. Serena didn’t want Ethan to find out, so she hinted that Carter should hand over a major project from his own company to her to cover her mistake. Wow, so shameless. Is this the independent, strong female lead? “This—” Even Carter hesitated. Thank goodness he still had a brain; this wasn’t a small favor. Such a major project, and with a long-term, important client. If he transferred it to a rival company like it was child’s play, not only would his company suffer a massive financial blow, but he would also lose all respect in the business world and among his partners. In the original plot, Carter agreed to this favor, which later led him to walk down a dark path out of desperation to rebuild his empire. “Carter, it’s okay. It’s my fault anyway.” “But in my heart, you’re the only person in this world I can truly rely on.” “It was true when we were kids, and it’s true now.” After that, Serena’s tears began to fall. It was truly a pitiful sight. Sure enough, someone couldn’t hold back. “Serena, don’t cry, I’ll just—” “Hold on!” This idiot! They both looked at me simultaneously. Serena’s eyes were full of resentment. “Carter, even if you don’t think about yourself, shouldn’t you consider our baby?” 11 “What?” Serena looked at my belly in shock. Then frantically turned to Carter. “Carter, you, you two already have a child?” Carter’s expression softened. “Yeah, Godmother said it’s better to wait until the pregnancy is more stable before telling others, so…” “Others… Carter, have I become ‘others’ to you?” “Serena, that’s not what I meant. I was just worried—” “Exactly, he was just too worried about me. Please don’t blame him, Serena.” I smiled radiantly. “Uh, congratulations, Carter. So, when are you transferring that project to me?” She’s still not giving up! I stared at Carter, feeling a sense of defeat. If he insisted on agreeing, there wasn’t really much I could do. “You were so good to me in the past, actually, I don’t really care about this company.” A smile appeared in Serena’s eyes. “But now that I have my own child, I think I need to be responsible for them.” “I don’t want them to have an irresponsible father like mine was.” Carter’s voice grew dim. A slight pang hit my heart. “So, I might need to think about it.” “I’m sorry, Serena. Let me try to find another way to help you, okay?” 12 Serena’s face looked terrible. This was probably the first time Carter had ever refused to help her. I could even sense panic in her. Panic that she was no longer this man’s sole emotional anchor. He had a child, a blood connection, a family now. “Serena, how about I have my driver take you home first?” “Carter has to take me to my prenatal checkup soon, we’re almost late.” Perhaps my overly joyful smile stung her, but Serena ignored my enthusiasm, grabbed her bag, and walked out. Oh, she’s mad. Giving the silent treatment. “Hey, Serena—” I blocked Carter, who was about to chase after her, feeling frustrated by his weakness. “Are you stupid? What good does chasing after her do now?” “Do you want to ruin the company? Do you want our child to suffer in poverty?” “If you’re not ready to be a father, I’ll go right now and… get an abortion!” “Chloe Sterling, don’t you dare! Do you believe I’ll—” Carter raised his arm in exasperation. I stuck my belly out, looking utterly defiant. He eventually gave up and rolled his eyes at me. “If I still had my old temper, I would have—” Carter muttered as he got into the car. “What did you say, you jerk?” “Get in the car!” Hmph, thought I couldn’t handle you. Seeing Carter’s company project finally secured, my heart felt a bit more at ease. Hopefully, nothing else will… “Chloe, let’s go out for afternoon tea.” The woman’s voice on the other end of the phone sounded very gentle.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440336”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel