Category: English

The night before our engagement party, I found the adoption papers in Nolan Rhys’s jacket pocket. The name listed under “Child to be Adopted” was the son of his late squadron mate. Nolan, my fiancé, was going to be the child’s legal father. I didn’t choose the high road. I didn’t pretend to be the magnanimous woman, throwing the documents in his face demanding an explanation. Instead, I waited. Nolan spent the entire night on the rooftop, the scent of expensive cigar smoke thick on the air, battling his conscience. He walked into the living room at dawn, his eyes red-rimmed. “I owe Mac, Ellie,” he said, the words heavy with the weight of his aviator’s code. “It’s a debt. I have to give that boy a stable home, a name.” Eight years. I’d loved him for eight years. To have him ask me to concede our future for a guilt-driven obligation to someone else’s child—I couldn’t swallow it. I put on my bespoke ivory gown and let the engagement party proceed as planned. The speeches were just wrapping up when his best friend, Liam, burst through the ballroom doors. “Nolan!” Liam’s face was a mask of panic. “Serra—Serra Hayes is on the roof with Finn! She says the child can’t live without a father!” The champagne flute I was lifting, ready to toast my parents, slipped. It hit the marble floor with a sharp, sickening crash. Nolan was already sprinting toward the exit, a blur of tailored tuxedo. I watched him go, my throat tight. “Nolan Rhys!” I shouted after him, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. “You walk out that door, and I promise you, I’m closing it forever!” He paused, a momentary tremor in his spine, but his feet kept moving. He was gone. He chose them. …… I stood suspended in the middle of the dance floor, the fragments of glass and spilled wine around me, still holding the bottle of celebratory champagne. The live band music died. Every eye in the room was fixed on me. Nolan’s parents were ashen. They rushed over, his mother clutching my hand. “Eleanor, that bastard! We’ll go drag him back here!” I shook my head, my control absolute. I placed the bottle back on the linen-draped table. “No, Mrs. Rhys. Let him go.” My own parents approached, my mother’s eyes already welling up. “What kind of stunt is this? Where do we put our face, Ellie?” I stepped down from the dais. “I’m taking you home, Mom. Dad.” The whole scene dissolved into chaos. Liam, Nolan’s friend, stood nearby, his face crumpled with guilt. “Ellie, I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. But Serra was really unstable. She was going to do it.” I just looked at him, saying nothing. Liam and Nolan had been inseparable since childhood, and they shared the same fierce loyalty to their fallen squadron mate, Mac Harding. They saw Mac’s widow, Seraphina Hayes, and her son, Finn, as a sacred trust. But a grieving relative doesn’t pick the exact moment of a man’s engagement to stage a suicide threat. It was a calculated detonation. I retrieved my clutch and walked out. My phone vibrated endlessly inside the bag. I didn’t need to look. I knew it was Nolan. He would explain. He would apologize. He would tell me how fragile Serra and Finn were and how he had to go. After eight years, I knew his playbook. His sense of duty to his wingman’s memory was his personal North Star, one that eclipsed all others. Mac had crashed covering Nolan’s fighter jet. That guilt had been a three-year-long weight on his chest. I used to admire that devotion. I used to believe that him taking care of them was a noble, necessary thing. Until he decided to put that child’s name on his own legal documents. Until today. I finally understood the truth: that particular line of responsibility had been crossed long ago. I returned to my apartment, peeling off the ruined couture gown and slipping into my scrubs and white coat. I’m a cardiac thoracic surgeon at the City Medical Center. If Serra was serious enough to be hospitalized after a suicide attempt, she’d be coming through our doors. I drove to the hospital. The rooftop access was roped off with caution tape. Nolan was inside, holding little Finn, who was wrapped in a blanket. Serra sat beside them, eyes swollen and red. Nolan looked up and saw me. Holding the child, he stood instantly. His eyes were layered with a thick, cloying apology. “Ellie, you came. I—I’m so sorry about tonight.” “How is the patient?” I cut him off, looking past him to Serra. “She’s fine. Just shaken up. Finn, too.” I nodded. “Good.” I turned to leave. Nolan grabbed my arm. “Ellie, don’t be like this. Mac died for me. I can’t abandon his wife and child. They’re helpless. They’re just… pitiable.” I pulled my arm free. “Nolan, I’m not angry. I’m just realizing that our engagement party wasn’t as important as a woman you’ve known for three years and her son.” “That’s not it! Ellie, you are the most important person to me! But they were threatening to die!” “The police said it was a low-probability threat.” I met his gaze, my voice flat. Nolan’s jaw worked, but he had no reply. Then, Serra walked over, still clutching the blanket. She looked up at me timidly. “Dr. Sterling, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I didn’t—didn’t mean it to be like that. I just saw the two of you, and it reminded me of Mac and me, and I just completely lost it.” She began to sob, shaking uncontrollably, looking on the verge of collapse. “I ruined your engagement. I apologize.” Nolan immediately handed Finn to Liam and put his arm around Serra, stabilizing her. “Stop, you need to calm down. Your health is what matters.” He looked at me, and his eyes held a flash of reproach. “Can’t you try to be a little understanding, Ellie? Look at her state.” I didn’t say another word. I simply turned and walked away. Outside the main doors, the night air hit my face. Only then did I realize: my hands were trembling. The next morning, Nolan showed up at my door with coffee and a bag of high-end pastries. I opened the door but stood blocking the entrance. He held out the bag. “Ellie, I’m apologizing for Serra. She had a genuine breakdown yesterday. It wasn’t calculated.” “Can’t she apologize for herself?” Nolan paused. “Her state is really poor. And little Finn has a fever.” “Nolan, let’s talk about us. Forget her. What about the engagement? What do we tell our friends and family?” He went silent. After a moment, he said, “We wait for the dust to settle, and then we re-do it.” “Re-do it?” I stared at him. “You think this is something we can just reschedule, like a reservation?” “What else can we do? It happened. Ellie, I know this is rough on you, but she just lost her husband. She’s alone with a child. Can we just have a little more patience, please?” Patience. That word again. I took the pastries and set them on the entryway table. “I understand. Go. They need you.” Nolan visibly relaxed, believing I had conceded. “I knew you’d come around. Don’t worry. When they’re stabilized, I will make this up to you. Everything.” He left. I picked up the breakfast and dropped it, untouched, into the trash. Then I went to work. Near the Pediatric wing, I saw him. Nolan was holding Finn, his brow furrowed with concern, while Serra walked beside him, her face a mask of anxiety. Nolan’s expression was awkward when he saw me. Serra immediately ducked her head, playing the role of the chastened victim. I ignored them both and headed to my office. That afternoon, Dr. Kaplan, my department chair and former mentor, tracked me down. “Ellie, I need you to consult on the Hayes boy. Finn. He’s got some cardiac issues, and we need a surgical opinion.” I frowned. “I’m a cardiac-thoracic surgeon, not pediatric cardio.” “I know, but you’re the best we have, and this case is complicated. Just take a look.” Dr. Kaplan was my teacher, and I couldn’t refuse. I went to the room. Finn lay in bed, his skin pale. Serra sat at the bedside. When she saw me, the tears started instantly. “Dr. Sterling, please, save Finn. He’s all Mac left behind.” I picked up the chart and flipped through the reports. “Congenital Ventricular Septal Defect. The hole isn’t large, but the location is bad. It’s a high-risk surgery.” Nolan stood beside me, his entire body tense. “How high is the risk?” “A thirty percent intra-operative mortality rate,” I said, closing the chart. Nolan’s color drained. Serra immediately collapsed to the floor. “How could this happen… how could this happen…” Nolan lifted her up, then turned to me, his voice sharp with command. “Ellie Sterling, you will do this surgery, and you will succeed!” I looked at him, leveling my gaze. “Nolan, I’m a surgeon, not a miracle worker. I can only inform you of the risk; I can’t guarantee an outcome.” “I don’t care!” he shouted, his voice rising. “Mac died for me! His son will be saved! If you’re not confident, you find the best surgeon in the country! I’ll pay any amount!” The entire room turned to look at us. I kept silent. At that moment, Serra grabbed the sleeve of my white coat. “Dr. Sterling, I’m begging you. I know you resent me for the engagement. If you hate me, take it out on me, but the child is innocent. You can’t fail him because of me…” Her words were a master stroke of emotional blackmail. The buzzing whispers started immediately. “That’s her, the fiancée of the pilot who ran out on the engagement.” “Wow. What a mess. Do you think the doctor will use this to get back at them?” Nolan’s face was thunderous. He looked me dead in the eye, saying each word with icy control: “Eleanor Sterling, if you use this child’s life to play games, we are finished.” My heart plummeted, the coldness spreading to my bones. I looked at him, then at Serra, and then I nodded. “Fine. I’ll do the surgery.” I added, “But you will sign a full liability release, and we will formally upgrade the surgical risk level. Every relevant department in the hospital will be notified to prepare for the worst. Nolan froze. Serra stopped crying. “What are you saying?” Nolan asked. “I’m saying I want the entire hospital to know exactly how high-risk this is, and that you, Nolan Rhys, required me to perform it. If the child dies on the table, the responsibility is not mine. It’s yours.” Every word was measured and clear. Nolan’s fists clenched. He stared at me, his eyes filled with disbelief and rage. “Eleanor, I never thought you were this kind of person.” I smiled, a thin, brittle thing. “You know now, don’t you?” I slapped the chart against his chest. “Decide, and go sign the papers.” I turned and walked out. In the pocket of my white coat, my hand was shaking so badly I couldn’t make a fist. We entered a cold war. Nolan didn’t call. I didn’t call. He was busy with Serra and Finn, preparing for the surgery. Our unit-assigned home, the one we had meticulously furnished and planned to move into after the engagement, sat empty. I went there alone. The house was large and silent. We had picked out every piece of furniture together. I sat on the couch for hours, in the middle of our suspended future. A week later, the surgery was scheduled. The pre-op consult included me, Dr. Kaplan, Nolan, and Serra. I detailed every conceivable risk: post-op complications, and the worst-case scenario. Serra’s face was white. Nolan signed the papers. He looked up at me after he finished. “Ellie, I trust you.” I ignored him. On the day of the procedure, Nolan and Serra stood vigil outside the OR doors. I changed into my scrubs and entered the sterile field. Washing my hands, I caught my reflection in the steel mirror. My eyes were bloodshot. I had barely slept for a week. I had reviewed Finn’s charts, scans, and images over a hundred times, modeling dozens of approaches. I wasn’t doing this for Nolan. I was doing it for the oath of the white coat. The surgery lasted eight grueling hours. It was more difficult than the imaging suggested. The defect was trickier, surrounded by vital vessels and nerves. Every movement was a walk on a razor’s edge. When I stitched the final layer and stepped out of the OR, my legs felt like rubber. Dr. Kaplan steadied me. “Well done, Ellie. Textbook success.” I nodded. Nolan and Serra rushed forward instantly. “How is he?” “The surgery was successful. He’s been transferred to the ICU,” I said. Serra sobbed with relief, burying her face into Nolan’s chest, crying and laughing at the same time. Nolan looked at me, his eyes unreadable. “Ellie, thank you.” He stepped forward, reaching out to embrace me. I took a deliberate step back, dodging his touch. “Don’t thank me. It’s my job.” I pulled off my surgical cap, my voice heavy with exhaustion. “Nolan, I came here to tell you something. I don’t want the house.” He froze. “What does that mean?” “The unit-assigned house. The one that’s in your name until we married. I don’t want it anymore.” “Why? The surgery was successful! It’s our home!” “I’m afraid that one day, Ms. Hayes’s son will have another midnight fever, and you’ll decide she needs a home more than I do.” Nolan’s face darkened. “Eleanor, do you have to be so cruel? You have to stab at me right now?” “Am I wrong?” “That’s different! That was a matter of life and death!” “Was the shame on my parents’ faces at the engagement not a kind of death? Are my eight years of devotion not a kind of life?” My questions silenced him. Finally, he took a deep, shaky breath. “Fine, Eleanor. If you think that, I’ll prove you wrong.” He looked at me, every word a deliberate, crushing blow. “From today, I’m moving Serra and Finn into that house. I’ll put them in the guest suite.” My mind went instantly, utterly blank. “What did you say?” “I said I’m moving Serra in!” He raised his voice, trying to convince me, or perhaps himself. “She can’t manage alone! The child just had major surgery and needs care! If they’re under our roof, I can supervise them, and you can see that nothing is happening! That’ll settle your mind!” I looked at him as if he were a stranger. “Nolan, you’re insane.” “I’m not! I’m perfectly clear! I will not let Mac’s son be displaced!” Every word was a nail driven into my heart. A profound weariness, the kind that permeates the bone marrow, washed over me. “All right,” I said. “Move them in.” Nolan seemed stunned that I agreed. I took the keys to the house out of my pocket and placed them on a nearby chair. “Here’s the key. It’s yours.” “From now on, this is your home with your squadron mate’s widow.” “I wish you both a happy life.” I stood up and walked away from the corridor that was supposed to lead to my future. As I pulled the heavy glass door of the ICU entrance shut, I thought I heard the sound of something—a chair, maybe—smashing inside. My tears finally fell. Eight years. It was over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388959”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was married to Caden Thorne for three years. He hated me the entire time. When I was kidnapped, I begged him for help. His response was a cold refusal. “She’s just a replacement. Do whatever you want with her.” His “first love” laughed along. “If she hadn’t forced him into marriage, we would have been together years ago.” “Let her suffer a bit. It’s the price she pays for what she did.” That night, broken by torture and despair, I fell from the rooftop. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the eve of our engagement. At that moment, he received a text from his “first love” inviting him to meet. He flew from New York to LA overnight. As soon as he left, I bought a plane ticket too. “Going to LA to catch him cheating?” my friend asked. “No.” I shook my head, smiling at her shocked expression. “I’m going back to Boston.” This time. He went west to be with his beauty. And I went north, to chase my dreams. 1 The last memory of my previous life was dragging my broken, decaying body to the edge of the roof and falling. The pain of broken ribs piercing my lungs and blood choking me was still vivid. Then, time rewound. I opened my eyes to a steamy bathroom. A group of rich, spoiled trust fund kids surrounded me, their tones mocking. “Sister, if there’s no mirror at home, surely you have piss to look into?” “Look at this pathetic sight. You think you’re worthy of being Caden’s fiancée?” “Keep dreaming. Come on, let’s help wake her up.” The leader sneered and sprayed freezing water directly into my face. The icy water dripped down my hair, making me shiver. Through my blurred vision, I saw a younger Caden Thorne leaning against the door frame, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He flicked his lighter. Click. The flame danced. “Sarah.” He called my name, his brow gentle. But his words were like unmelted winter ice. “Since you came looking for me, I might as well be clear.” “The engagement arranged by our elders doesn’t count.” “Do you understand?” He tore the gold-stamped engagement contract I had treasured for years into shreds. The pieces fell like endless snow. I pressed my lips together, saying nothing. My gaze moved past him to the open bottle of whiskey on the table. Only then did I realize. This wasn’t the bloody scene of my death after the kidnapping. It was— Three years ago, the night before Caden and I were supposed to get our marriage license. 2 The thin paper fragments seemed to fold into frames of a movie, pulling me into a distant yet clear memory. It was ridiculous, really. This torn engagement contract came about when Caden accompanied his grandfather to Boston for medical treatment. They heard my uncle was a brilliant doctor and moved in next door. Caden coaxed me into signing it. At first, no one supported this relationship. The Sterling family had been doctors for generations, detached from the pursuit of wealth and fame. The Thorne family, however, ruled the New York business world. The gap in our status was too wide. Grandfather Thorne thought it was just puppy love and didn’t take it seriously. But Caden was so serious, begging both families to agree. He knelt on the ground, swearing to treat me well forever. Moved by his sincerity, I held his hand firmly, standing by his side. The tug-of-war lasted six months. Grandfather Thorne couldn’t say no to him and finally agreed to the engagement. We had a brief, happy time. “Sarah, I like you.” “The kind of like where I want to marry you and spend my life with you.” The boy stared at me, his eyes shining. He solemnly framed the paper, writing our names in gold ink. Later, Grandfather Thorne recovered and prepared to return to New York. Before leaving, Caden hugged me so tight it felt like he wanted to merge me into his bones. “Wait for me.” “I’ll come back for you.” But unfortunately, he broke his promise. From seventeen to twenty-seven, we were long-distance for ten years. When I finally went to New York full of hope to find Caden and fulfill our promise, he gave me only one sentence. “The engagement arranged by our elders doesn’t count.” I sat in the dark stairwell crying. I couldn’t understand what went wrong. Even if he wanted to break up, there should be a reason. After everyone left the room, I pushed open the door again. But I was pulled into a drunken embrace and pressed against the window. “Selena, you’re back?” Hot breath landed on my neck. Before I could speak, my lips were sealed by a lingering kiss. …… 3 The next morning, the doorbell rang. I rubbed my sore waist and went to open it, thinking it was the maid, but it was Grandfather Thorne visiting his grandson. We were caught in the act. Even though Caden was reluctant, he married me. On the wedding day, during the toast. A girl who looked seventy or eighty percent like me sat in the audience, red-eyed, raising her glass. “Congratulations.” “Wishing you a happy marriage and a long life together.” Caden didn’t respond. His hand clenched at his side, veins popping, knuckles white. After a long while, he snatched the glass, drank from where her lips had touched, and downed it in one gulp. His voice was strained. “Thanks, Selena.” In that moment, I realized. That night, when he called “Selena,” he meant Selena Quinn. And I was just a substitute for his white moonlight. Before she returned to the country, he intended to break it off with me completely, but in his drunken state, he mistook me for her. Creating a lifelong regret. For three years of marriage, Caden hated me. He never looked me in the eye. Even accidental touches were shaken off like I was filth. On our anniversary, I was kidnapped by his business rival to force him to give up a piece of land worth billions in Manhattan. In the abandoned factory, I trembled as I called him for help. Only to receive a cold refusal. “Heh, where does Mr. Chen get the confidence that she’s worth that much?” “She’s just a replacement. Do whatever you want.” “Even if you break her, I won’t feel a thing.” Selena Quinn laughed along. “She deserves it.” “If she hadn’t forced the marriage, we would have been together long ago.” “Letting her suffer is just the price for her mistake.” The sudden hang-up made the kidnappers look at me with even more anger. What followed was a night of humiliation and torture. Until dawn broke. I curled up in the corner, clothes torn, like a broken doll, trying to escape to call the police. But my mind broke, and I fell from the roof. The second before consciousness faded. I thought of nothing but this— If there is a next life, I will love the mountains, I will love the water. But I will never, ever love Caden Thorne again. Absolutely not. Fortunately, heaven had mercy. It gave me a chance to start over. 4 My thoughts returned. The old memories receded like the tide. But the accumulated grievances and bitterness from my past life lingered. I bit my lip, unable to hold back a tear. “Woah, crying already?” “She really loves Caden.” “What a pathetic simp.” The crowd laughed, convinced I loved Caden too much to leave. Even Caden thought so. He raised an eyebrow, impatient. “Save the cheap tears.” “Think crying will make me soft?” The crystal chandelier light hit his face. Those amber eyes were dazzling, features sharp and handsome, but his gaze was cold. “Sarah, have some self-awareness.” “We are worlds apart. It was your blessing that I lowered myself to play with you for a few years.” “Be smart and stop pestering me.” “We’re even.” I wiped my tears and spoke my first words since rebirth. “Breaking the engagement is fine.” “But—” Caden froze. He hadn’t expected me to agree so calmly. In the moment he was stunned, I grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table and unscrewed the cap as fast as I could. The sherry-brown liquid splashed out. The rich kids who mocked me were now covered in alcohol, looking pathetic. Including Caden. He looked down, lashes trembling, his expensive shirt and watch ruined. I wrung out my dripping hair and met his disbelieving gaze. Word by word, I said: “Now we’re even.” Amidst the gasps. I didn’t stay a second longer, turning and leaving decisively.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388975”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I grew up with Caleb Sterling. Fifteen years of friendship that blossomed into romance. I finally married him, believing we were destined for a happily ever after. I didn’t expect that on our very first wedding anniversary, he would fly across the ocean to find his “one that got away.” Furious, I chased after him to demand an explanation, only to be abandoned by him in a foreign bar, left to fend for myself. Months later, after enduring hell on earth, I escaped back to the States, covered in scars. I arrived just in time to find Caleb and his friends at a club, celebrating “The 191st Day Since Harper Vance Vanished.” He held a drink, laughing. “Every day I spent with Harper was nauseating. If it weren’t for her, Sienna and I would have been together years ago.” I decided to grant his wish. I turned to leave. But then, he fell to his knees, weeping, begging me to love him again. 1 When I returned to Chicago, Caleb Sterling was throwing a party. A banner hung outside the VIP booth: [Celebrating 191 Days of Freedom from Harper Vance]. Standing outside the door, I heard Caleb’s voice, lazy and dismissive. “Harper finally learned her lesson. Women need to be taught a thing or two.” “Harper’s temper was insane. Only you could tolerate that, Caleb.” “She used to be the Vance family heiress; everyone gave her a pass. Now that she’s broke, someone needed to humble her.” “Honestly, our lovely Sienna is the real MVP here. One move and she tamed Harper completely.” “The Vance family is bankrupt. Harper is going to cling to you even harder now, Caleb.” Caleb scoffed loudly. “She really is like a piece of gum stuck to my shoe. Every day I was with her, I felt physically sick.” Just as the words left his mouth, I pushed the door open. The rowdy atmosphere died instantly. I saw a mix of emotions in their eyes: surprise, contempt, resistance, and… shock. Their eyes widened in disbelief. The vibrant, proud Harper Vance of six months ago was gone. Standing before them was a skeletal figure, radiating the aura of someone already dead. Sienna Cole spoke first, her voice laced with feigned concern. “Harper? What happened to you? You look… terrible. Don’t just stand there, come in and sit.” I scanned the room. There was only one empty folding chair in the corner. Everyone else had their fixed spots. For instance, the seat next to Caleb now belonged to Sienna. I stood calmly. I didn’t scream or throw a fit like I used to whenever I saw Sienna getting too close to Caleb. Sienna—gentle, beautiful, understanding Sienna. She was their goddess, the group favorite. In the past, every time I made things difficult for her, they hated me a little more. It was laughable. I was the one who grew up with them, yet now I was the intruder. Sienna coughed lightly behind her hand. Caleb immediately frowned with worry. “Are you deaf?” he snapped at me. “Didn’t you hear Sienna? If you don’t want to come in, then get lost. Don’t leave the door open; she’ll catch a cold.” His voice was filled with the same old disgust and impatience. Six months. He had zero curiosity or concern about where I had been. I should have given up on him a long time ago. 2 I forced a smile. I reached into my bag and pulled out a manila envelope and a small box, sliding them across the table toward him. Inside the box was his proposal ring. To be accurate, it was a metal keyring he had casually taken off his car keys. It was too big, cheap, and rusting, but I had treated it like a diamond. Every time Sienna showed off the massive gems Caleb bought her, I told myself my keyring was more precious because it was a promise. How pathetic I was. If I had a real diamond, maybe I could have sold it to buy my father a decent grave plot. But thankfully, I didn’t want any of it anymore. The envelope contained the divorce papers. I had already signed them. Caleb’s face darkened. He pursed his lips, staring at me. Sienna suddenly gasped, covering her mouth as she stepped back. “Harper, your hands… what happened?” Everyone’s gaze shifted to my hands. The back of my hand was swollen, purple, and covered in a dense cluster of needle marks. It looked horrifying. I calmly pulled my hand back into my sleeve and looked at Caleb. “Caleb, the divorce papers are signed. I’m sorry for tying you down with this marriage all these years. You’re free now.” Caleb’s voice was icy. “Harper, what’s the play this time? Put away these cheap tactics. It’s disgusting.” “You sign, we divorce, and you never have to be disgusted again,” I said, turning to leave. “Fine! Great, Harper! You better be serious. Don’t you dare regret this, and don’t come crawling back like a pathetic dog begging to reconcile!” I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. “See you at the courthouse.” Behind me, the sound of shattering glass echoed from the booth. 3 On our first wedding anniversary, Sienna posted a single sentence on social media: [I wish he was here.] Caleb immediately flew to Europe to be with her. Angry and unwilling to accept that she was the shadow over my marriage, I followed him. I found them in a bar, embracing intimately. When I confronted him, Caleb looked at me like I was his enemy. His words were daggers. “What right do you have to control me? If not for you, Sienna and I would have been together ages ago.” But I was the one dating him first. Sienna was the one who interfered, then dumped him, then came back. Why was it my fault? Blinded by rage, I smashed things. A shard of glass scratched Sienna’s finger. Panic-stricken, Caleb rushed her to the hospital, leaving me alone in a chaotic bar in a foreign country. That same night, back home, my father committed suicide by jumping off a building. I missed his final call because I was running for my life. I came back for two reasons: to bury my father, and to divorce Caleb. I lay on the bed in the small rental apartment, enduring the burning pain in my stomach. This tiny studio was the only asset left after the family bankruptcy. It was small, but it allowed me to sleep with dignity. 4 I was woken by violent banging on the door. My instinct was to curl into a ball inside the closet. It took me a moment to remember I was back in the US. I opened the door to find Caleb looking annoyed. “Are you dead? How could you not hear that?” He stopped mid-sentence, frowning as he looked me over. “Why do you look so pale? You’re sweating. Are you sick?” Last night in the dim club, he only saw that I was thin. Today, in the daylight, I looked like a terminally ill patient. “Harper, what is wrong with you?” I shook my head. “Did you sign the papers? If you signed, let’s go to the courthouse.” Caleb’s face turned stormy. “Enough! Harper, I’ve tolerated you long enough. Haven’t you acted out enough? Today it’s divorce, tomorrow will you claim you have cancer just to get my attention? It’s useless! I don’t care what you do. I will never love you!” “Good. After the divorce, I promise never to appear in front of you again.” I pulled out my phone to book an appointment. Caleb snatched the phone and smashed it onto the floor. I immediately dropped to my knees, trying to reassemble the shattered pieces. This phone was a gift from a woman in the bed next to mine, just before she died. Caleb threw his wallet at my head. “Don’t act like a beggar to get my pity. Buy a new phone. Keep the change. And don’t use ‘I don’t have a phone’ as an excuse to pester me.” He stormed off. I looked at the cash in the wallet and laughed a dry, tearless laugh. If only he had given me this money six months ago… I wouldn’t have had to run, I wouldn’t have had to sell my body to science just to survive. I didn’t use his money. I found an old brick phone in the apartment. I called Caleb’s assistant to come pick up the wallet. “Mrs. Sterling,” the assistant said awkwardly. “I’m in a critical meeting. Could you bring it to the office?” In the past, Caleb forbade me from entering his company. Even for urgent documents, he’d send someone home rather than let me visit. Now that we were divorcing, I didn’t want to overstep. “You’re busy. I’ll figure something else out.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388991”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Four years after I died, my headstone was already crooked. I haunted Jim’s dreams for weeks, begging him to come fix it. But he wouldn’t come. Frustrated, I kept up my ghostly wailing, crying about how miserable I was in the afterlife. In his sleep, Jim just scowled. “Leave me alone, Erica. I’m not going. I’m busy.” And yet, one night, he showed up right after getting off work, a shovel slung over his shoulder. The man had never done a day of manual labor in his life. He took one swing. And my headstone… it toppled over completely. Jim, a cigarette dangling from his lips, actually let out a short, sharp laugh. “Damn it, Erica. Are you doing this just to mess with me?” 1. Another All Souls’ Eve came and went. As usual, Jim burned nothing for me. My debts in the Underworld just kept piling up. Even the Reapers were telling me to just move on, to reincarnate already. I looked down at the tattered rags I wore and shook my head. No. Jim was too much of a bastard. I had to watch him raise our daughter. Only then would I be willing to let go. Jim and I have a daughter. She’s four years old this year. I don’t know her name. I don’t even know what she looks like. Jim won’t let me see her. He rarely visits me, either. The first year after my death, he went on a rampage, throwing everything of mine out of the house. He forbade the nanny from even speaking my name. It was as if he was trying to erase me from his world, scouring away every last trace until nothing remained. The house was covered in wards. He slept with silver charms by his pillow. And my daughter’s room was sealed behind a web of protective circles. Even a fleeting glimpse of her was an impossible dream. For a man like Jim, who never believed in ghosts or gods, to go to such lengths… he must have really put his back into it. He despised me that much. So how could I ever hope he would treat our daughter with kindness? I have to watch. I have to stay until she’s grown. 2. A cold wind sliced through the night. I huddled behind my fallen headstone, wrapping my arms around myself, but I couldn’t stop shivering. The cemetery was swallowed by darkness. I buried my face in my knees, too scared to look up. Too scared of being seen by the other shades passing through. These lost souls, they prey on helpless spirits like me. They steal your clothes. They devour your offerings. They hoard the warmth of incense meant for others. I had no one, so I was an easy target. A sound rustled nearby. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my face deeper into my knees, holding my breath. Suddenly, the sound stopped right in front of my grave. With a heavy thud, a shovel landed at my feet. I peeked out from behind the stone, and a sob nearly escaped my lips. It was Jim. He stood there in a black overcoat, his features sharp and severe in the moonlight. He cast a lazy, dismissive glance at my headstone as if to confirm it was mine. As if it were hard to tell. He hated complications. The massive marble slab bore only a few words. Beloved Wife: Erica. Husband: Jim. He hadn’t even added our daughter’s name. He wasn’t in any hurry to fix the stone. Instead, he crouched down, pulled a cigarette from his coat, and lit it, his eyes fixed on the small, faded photograph of me. A cloud of smoke curled from his lips. “Erica,” he murmured, his voice a low drawl, “you had all that money. You couldn’t have left a little for me when you died?” “Now here I am, in the prime of my life, running a business and raising a kid.” He tapped the ash from his cigarette and gently poked my forehead in the picture. The nerve of him. He was the one who spent his days partying and chasing women. Of course I had to leave something for my daughter. He was still thinking about my money, even after I was dead. Shameless. A surge of fury shot through me. I whipped up a gust of wind and sent it howling straight at him. Jim’s hair was thrown into disarray, the collar of his coat flipped up, and a smudge of ash landed on his sleeve. But he didn’t get angry. He just flicked the ash away, his gaze lifting slightly. “Mad now, are you?” “You’ve been dead this long, and you’re still holding such a grudge.” I conjured another gust, slapping it across his face. He talked too much. Instead of getting angry, Jim just smiled. He stubbed out the cigarette under his heel and picked up the shovel. “Fine, I’ll fix it.” “I don’t know why being a ghost is so complicated. One day you’re crying about being cold, the next you’re complaining you’re broke.” “Erica, you’re a ghost. Have some dignity, will you?” I glared at him. It was his fault. He barely visited once a year. How was I supposed to get by without clothes or offerings? Every time I told him I needed something, he’d brush me off, his eyes closed in feigned sleep. “I got it.” “Stop haunting my dreams.” “My sleep is precious. I have to wake up and earn money for your daughter’s formula.” I believed his crap. I waited and waited. And waited some more. Finally, when I couldn’t wait any longer, I slipped back into his dreams. He was still lying there, eyes shut, and spoke with weary familiarity. “Erica, you again. Don’t you ghosts ever sleep?” “You promised you’d burn me some money!” Jim chuckled. “Forgot. Just wait a little longer. I’ll get to it when I have time.” Right. No time? He had enough time to take our daughter with him to meet a blind date. He was a master at squeezing minutes out of his day, but when it came to me, he was always “too busy.” At least this time he showed a flicker of conscience. I only had to scream at him in his dreams twice before he showed up. Jim hefted the shovel, sizing up the hole. I watched him, a frown creasing my ghostly brow. He looked a little too eager. Did he even know what he was doing? Of course not. Jim brought the shovel down with a powerful swing. My headstone crashed to the ground. It landed at his feet, kicking up a cloud of dust that settled on his expensive trousers. Jim grimaced and muttered a curse under his breath. Then I heard him ask, “Erica, you can probably still live here without a roof, right?” A fire ignited in my soul. I clenched my fists, ready to give him a slap he’d feel in the mortal world. “Daddy!” 3. A small, sweet voice drifted from the darkness. I froze. Jim flinched, immediately hiding his cigarette and frantically brushing the ash off his coat. My head snapped around. There, running towards us, was a little girl in a white puffer jacket. Her hair was woven into beautiful little braids, her cheeks rosy and full. Her eyes were like dark, round grapes, shining and bright. She was laughing as she ran straight for Jim. She was so small, so soft. It was effortless for Jim to scoop her into his arms, wrapping his large coat around her, hiding her completely from my view. “Didn’t Daddy tell you to wait in the car?” Jim’s voice had lost its edge, replaced by a gentle warmth. He nuzzled his nose against the little girl’s cheek. “Mrs. Lynn said she’s making stew at home, and I’m hungry.” She wrapped her tiny arms around Jim’s neck, pressing her cheek against his. “Daddy, your face is so cold. Let’s go home.” She kissed his cheek, then her small hands moved to cover his ears, a tiny, earnest attempt to shield him from the wind. So smart. So sweet. I couldn’t get enough of the sight of her. Jim kissed her back, pulling the coat tighter around her. He glanced at the ruined gravesite. “Erica, you’ll have to make do with the house for now.” “My daughter’s hungry. I have to go.” My fists tightened. I surged after him. “When are you going to fix it?!” Jim couldn’t hear me. But the little girl in his arms peeked out from the folds of his coat, her grape-like eyes looking right at me. Then, she spoke. “Daddy, isn’t that lady going home?” Her little finger pointed directly at me. Jim froze. He glanced over his shoulder. Of course, there was nothing there. Without another word, he shrugged off his entire overcoat, wrapped our daughter in it until she was a tight, warm bundle, and strode towards the cemetery gates. As he left, his voice floated back, a low, flat warning. “Don’t even think about following me, Erica. The wards I have at home will be more than you can handle.” I stopped in my tracks. All I did was stir a gentle breeze to brush the last of the ash from his cuff. Jim’s eyes dropped to the spot where the wind touched him. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, he turned and walked away without looking back. I stood there, alone, and didn’t follow. 4. Silence descended. I sat on my overturned headstone, my mind drifting back to a time long, long ago. Jim and I had an arranged marriage. A merger of two family empires. He loved to play. He was a fixture in the tabloids. A star of the gossip columns. He was at his wildest at twenty-seven. I was twenty-three. We were forced together. Before the wedding, he’d smirked at me. “There’s a line of women waiting to be Mrs. Jim. You’re such a good girl, Erica. Try not to get your heart broken.” I met his gaze, my voice even. “If any of them had what it takes, the spot wouldn’t have been vacant for me to fill.” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “I thought you were more of a poet, Miss Zhou.” “I know a little about strategy, too,” I said modestly. Jim laughed. I’d never seen him laugh like that. His teeth were perfectly white, his hair catching the light, and genuine delight danced at the corners of his eyes. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his suit jacket draped over one arm. He looked part lazy rogue, part confident heir. “Alright then,” he said. “From now on, you protect me, Miss Zhou.” I had met many men, but none were like Jim. Beneath the polished, handsome exterior was a core of untamable recklessness. I knew I could never hold onto him. I wouldn’t dare dream that a man like him could ever love just one person. So I never overstepped. I never tried to cage him. In two years of marriage, I never once interfered in his affairs. He liked my cooking, but he was always too busy to come home. Often, he would show up at ten at night and ask me to make him something. I would only ever make him a simple omelet with a side of greens. Jim wasn’t a picky eater; he always finished every bite. I’d make the food and go back to my room. He’d eat and leave, never staying the night. I had the sprawling three-thousand-square-foot apartment all to myself. It was a peaceful existence. But that idyllic life didn’t last. After two years, Jim’s parents started pressuring us to have a child. Jim hated the idea. He dropped all pretense of a happy marriage. He was photographed with other women at galas. He spent a fortune launching the careers of aspiring starlets. He even had his father’s mistress send a floral arrangement to his mother’s company launch party. In the span of two weeks, the family business was trending for all the wrong reasons. Jim’s mother was furious. But Jim just sat across from me at dinner, calm as ever, placing a piece of fish in my bowl. “The fish is good. Eat up.” As he was leaving, he put on his coat and glanced back at me. “Don’t worry about my mother.” He paused, then added, “If she gives you any trouble, call me.” Just as he predicted, she did. His mother was a formidable woman. Unable to control her son, she turned her pressure on me. Back then, I didn’t know how to bow my head or show weakness. She made my life difficult, time and time again, but I never told Jim. Until my family’s company started to fail. Investors pulled out. The cash flow dried up. Desperate, my father told me to go to Jim’s mother, to beg her to give us a lifeline. It was only then that I learned how badly my family’s business had been struggling. It couldn’t withstand the targeted attacks from Jim’s mother. So I went to see her. For the first time in my life, I learned to bow my head. She agreed to save my family’s company. But there was a price. She wanted me to have a child. “Jim is a lost cause,” she said coolly. “I need a new heir.” 5. I signed the non-disclosure agreement. One evening, as Jim was finishing his omelet and getting ready to leave, I took out two wine glasses. Under the warm glow of the dining room lights, Jim looked up, a playful smile touching his lips. I stood up, the pencil skirt molding to my form, the click of my heels echoing on the marble floor. Jim leaned back in his chair, draping his jacket over the back, watching me with a lazy, amused expression. I walked over to him and, looking down, carefully poured the wine. A drop splashed onto the back of my hand. He watched me for a second, then his large hand covered mine, and in one smooth motion, he pulled me onto his lap. I sat there, my ears burning, but forced myself to remain composed. Jim chuckled and drained his glass. The scent of wine was intoxicating. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. “Trying to make me stay?” I buried my face in the crook of his neck, unable to meet his eyes. I could only manage a small, shy nod. Jim toyed with a strand of my hair that had fallen near his hand. “Can’t drive after drinking,” he murmured. “Guess you’ll have to put me up for the night?” “Hmm?” I didn’t answer with words. I just pressed a soft kiss to his neck. His blood was warm. I could feel his pulse beating against my lips. Jim laughed, tilting my chin up. His kiss was possessive and absolute, stealing the air from my lungs. It was a night of beautiful madness. After that, Jim started coming home more often. He spent more and more time with me. Back then, under the guise of caring for his health, I asked him to quit smoking and drinking. And he did. He started carrying candy and gum in his pockets instead. He made time to have dinner with me. He took walks with me in the evenings. He learned my favorite foods at fancy restaurants, my preferred level of sweetness in a bubble tea. That life lasted for four months. Then, I found out I was pregnant. Joy, then shock. And then, a wave of panic and fear washed over me. According to the contract, the child belonged to his mother the moment it was born. I couldn’t let her find out about the baby yet. So I told no one. Not even Jim. Until he found the contract. I thought he would explode with rage. I braced myself for it. But all he did was ask me, his voice quiet and hollow, “Erica, do you even have a heart?” “You used our child as a bargaining chip.” I gripped the sleeve of his shirt, my face pale. I couldn’t say a word. I had deceived him. From the very beginning, I had never considered asking for his help. I had never imagined that our tangled lives would weave something real between us. I had used him. There was no defense for it. “I thought you had some feelings for me,” he said, his voice laced with betrayal. “I didn’t think you could be bought by my mother.” “Erica—” He said my name, and his eyes were filled with ice. “We’re done.” I sighed, unable to bear the memory of his frozen gaze. I only remember that in the four years that followed, he returned to his world of parties and beautiful women. He had completely moved on from me. A gust of wind swept by. I shrank into myself, wrapping my arms tighter around my knees. My mind was filled with the image of my daughter’s round, dark eyes. So beautiful. She had grown up safe and sound. She was such a good girl. A tear escaped, then another. Laughter mixed with sobs. A sour ache bloomed in my chest, and the tears wouldn’t stop, soaking the front of my spectral form. The cold wind bit at me, making my very bones ache. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand, and I couldn’t breathe. So I cried harder. Until the cemetery was filled with my desolate, echoing wails. On and on. Endlessly. Tears fell, drop by drop, onto my cold legs, staining the exposed white bone beneath with a ghostly red. I clenched my twisted, broken fingers, my nails digging into the raw flesh. The pain was excruciating. A voice, thick with blood and sorrow, tore from my throat. “What are you crying about?” “Isn’t being a ghost better than being alive?” “All this wailing is giving me a headache.” 6. I looked up. A young woman was leaning against a nearby headstone, casually munching on an apple she’d clearly filched from an offering plate. Behind her stood two figures I knew well. The Reapers who were assigned to guide me. I blinked, the tears stopping mid-fall. “I’m not going,” I blurted out. “I’m not reincarnating.” “I have to watch my daughter grow up.” One of the Reapers sighed. “In your current state, you can’t even get past the front gate of their house. How do you expect to watch over your daughter?” “But because you’ve shown kindness and helped the other lost souls here, we’ve petitioned the higher-ups on your behalf. We found a body for you.” “She looks about eighty percent like you did.” They pushed the young woman forward. She took another bite of her apple and did a little twirl. “So? What do you think? Satisfied?” I wiped away the blood and tears, finally getting a good look at her. She was slender, with fair skin. A small, red beauty mark dotted the corner of one eye. She was the spitting image of me in my early twenties. I hesitated. “If I take your body, what about you?” “Eh, I’m sick. No cure. I was going to die soon anyway,” she said with a shrug. “If you can use it, take it. Saves me the suffering.” “But what about your parents? What if they realize I’m not you…?” She shook her head. “Tough luck my whole life. Grew up in an orphanage. No family.” “The Reapers promised me a storefront in the Underworld so I can start a business.” “I’m done with the pain of living.” “Just say yes already.” I nodded, my eyes filling with fresh tears of gratitude. I thanked them over and over. The Reapers pulled my spirit from its ruined form and pushed it into the new body. I stared at my hands in wonder. They were warm. No longer cold and brittle, no longer carrying the faint, scorched scent of my death. The Reapers led the young woman’s soul away. Before they vanished, one turned back. “You have fifteen days.” “Erica, may you find your peace.” I listened to the strong, steady beat of my new heart, tears streaming down my face. Fifteen days. I would have taken fifteen minutes. I missed my child so much. After they left, I walked out of the cemetery. Using the information the girl had left in her phone’s notes, I found her small rental apartment and settled in. That night, I drafted a resume. My target was Apex Holdings. The company Jim had built from the ground up after I died. 7. The next morning, I applied some light makeup and changed into a white pantsuit. Standing in front of the mirror, I felt a jolt. I looked so much like my younger self. I smiled at my reflection. “Hello, Ava.” Ava’s identity was that of a top university graduate with an impeccable resume and extensive work experience. Getting into Apex wasn’t difficult. After a series of interviews, I was hired a week later. I didn’t see Jim on my first day. But I knew my resume had landed on his desk long before. My work experience, my hobbies and interests… I had filled it all out as myself. Jim had once helped me edit my own resume, back in the second year after I graduated. He’d had me work as his intern, personally training me for six months. Besides, the photo on this resume was a dead ringer for me. He had to know.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389007”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I found the gilded cage where my husband kept his mistress. I wanted to see what kind of woman could outdo me, what kind of woman could train a man of such discipline and restraint to heel like a lapdog. It wasn’t jealousy. It was pure curiosity. After all, Brian Croft and I had built our empire from nothing. From a cramped studio apartment to a mansion, we’d worked so hard the stress had turned my hair grey overnight. Even after having our son, I didn’t become one of those pampered wives who spent their days at spas and salons. I was still at the factory, juggling my career and my marriage, a master of both. I believed I was in complete control of my life. I rang the doorbell. The door opened. The young woman who answered had a smile that could bloom flowers, her eyes curving into sweet crescents. “You must be Brian’s mother,” she chirped. “It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am.” 1 Even when negotiating contracts worth hundreds of millions, I never let my face betray a single emotion. But hearing her call me ma’am, I couldn’t help but frown. The divorce wasn’t even final, and she was already this eager to meet her future mother-in-law? Some strange impulse made me play along. “Hello.” “Please, come in. My name is Maya.” The first thing I saw upon entering was a massive world map. A thin red string connected photos of them kissing, marking all the places they had traveled together. The pins were dense, covering nearly the entire globe. She noticed my gaze and explained with a smile, “It’s our travel map. He takes me somewhere new every month.” So, Brian’s affair had started much earlier than I thought. She reached out, gently helping me off with my coat and hanging it in a nearby closet. The tea she handed me was the perfect temperature. I surveyed the apartment. A 200-square-meter place in the city center, with renovations of this quality, had to be worth at least five million. “Did he buy this for you?” A blush crept up Maya’s cheeks. “Yes.” “Brian said it was my gift for getting into my PhD program.” In ten years of marriage, he had never celebrated a single holiday with me. Even after we’d made our fortune, he never bought me any expensive gifts. My birthday was marked by a simple cake and a perfunctory “Happy Birthday.” I had always thought it was love evolving into family, that quiet companionship was the truest form of affection. It turns out love doesn’t evolve. It just relocates. Seeing my silence, she fidgeted, then finally worked up the courage to ask, “Ma’am, Brian and I are truly in love. Will you give me your blessing to marry him?” I thought I would feel nothing. But a sharp pang shot through my heart. I heard myself ask, “How did you two get together?” Maya’s face lit up as she told their story. And I finally understood. That year I had a raging fever, and even though we were already millionaires, he had rushed off to meet a client for a paltry ten-thousand-dollar order. It was all because she had said, “I miss you.” “You have no idea, ma’am,” she gushed, “the moment Brian saw me, he said his whole world lit up.” “And he’s so brilliant! He solved a huge technical problem for my father’s company. He said it was an issue that had plagued their industry for years, but he fixed it with just one look.” “So, ma’am? Do you approve?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope. A wry curiosity colored my tone. “And do you know he has a wife?” Maya’s face faltered for a second. She bit her lip. “Brian told me. He said he doesn’t love her at all. She’s just a business partner. There are no feelings involved.” “He said that woman is older than his own aunt, with zero charm. She lives like a man, and her skin is rough and disgusting.” I rubbed the calluses on my palm, formed from hauling sacks of soybeans in the early days of our business. Every night, he used to rub thick hand cream into them, massaging them gently. He used to call me the heroine of our family. “But I guess no man would like a woman like that,” Maya continued. “They’re going to get divorced anyway. I don’t mind, as long as he truly loves me.” The teacup in my hand froze mid-air, trembling slightly. We had met through friends, a case of love at first sight. Brian had told everyone I was the girl of his dreams. He swore he wouldn’t marry me until he’d made enough money for us. We started a tofu business together, never getting a full night’s sleep. The exhaustion turned my hair prematurely grey and etched lines on my face, making me look like I was in my late forties. Once, drunk, he had knelt before me, crying and holding me, apologizing over and over. To keep him from feeling guilty, even when I had no time for beauty treatments, I always made sure to dye my hair. The turmoil in my heart rose and fell, then settled into a calm sea. I had seen her. I had compared. It was never about how much better she was. It was that he had changed. And since he said there were no feelings, then it was time to make that a reality. 2 I was about to answer her. Maya’s phone rang, and she put it on speaker. Brian’s voice, low and tender in a way I’d never heard, came through. “Baby, are you hungry? I got you your favorite chicken noodle soup. I’ll be there in fifteen.” I knew that noodle shop. It had a three-hour line and was clear across the city. I’d mentioned it once when I was home with a sprained ankle, craving something light. He had been sitting by my bed peeling an apple, and hadn’t even looked up. Maya poured on the affection, blowing kisses into the phone. “I love you most, honey!” While they were cooing at each other, I went to the bathroom. The countertop was crowded with more of his toiletries than we had at home. I sent a message to my assistant, telling her to run a complete check on Brian’s financials. He would pay the price for squandering my blood, sweat, and tears on another woman. As I was about to leave the bathroom, I heard Brian’s eager voice at the door. “Look what else I brought you.” Maya gasped. “The sapphire necklace from yesterday!” “I saw you look at it for just a second, so I went back and bought it.” “Well, I have a surprise for you, too!” Maya, playing mysterious, ran to the bathroom door and knocked. “Ma’am, are you done?” I turned off the faucet and opened the door. Maya bounced between us, throwing her arms wide in celebration. “Perfect timing, ma’am is here too! We can all share the wonderful news together.” “My husband got me a sapphire! And I’m giving my husband a baby!” A jolt went through me. I snapped my head up to look at her. After our son, Leo, was born, I had always dreamed of having a daughter. Brian always found an excuse. It turned out he just didn’t want one with me. Brian’s smile was wide, but his eyes traveled over Maya’s head and met mine. His pupils constricted. The smile vanished, as if I were the intruder, the one who had trespassed on their private world. “What are you doing here?” I walked back to my seat, my gaze drifting between them. My silence seemed to provoke him. He pulled Maya behind him protectively. “If you have a problem, take it up with me. Don’t you dare touch her.” Maya looked confused, tugging on his sleeve. “Isn’t she your mother?” Brian froze, then let out a sneer. “My sweet, gullible girl. You’ve got good eyes. She certainly looks old enough.” “Unfortunately, she’s my wife.” Maya’s expression shifted as realization dawned. Her face flushed red and white, her hands flying to her mouth. “Ma’am… no, I mean… Victoria, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” “It’s just… I…” She couldn’t find an excuse, her face turning crimson with panic. Brian wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into an embrace, and barked at me, “Don’t apologize to her.” “Victoria Quinn, get out.” Huddled in his arms, Maya shot me a sly, triumphant look. I finished the last of my tea, grabbed my coat, and walked over to her. “Your request from earlier,” I said calmly. “I approve.” The elevator doors were just about to close when Brian appeared, his hand shooting out to block them. Seeing that I wasn’t screaming or questioning him like I usually would, his expression was complicated, tinged with a panic I couldn’t quite decipher. “Victoria, this is an accident.” “You know this. A pregnant woman can’t be stressed.” “A divorce would be a financial disaster for us. She won’t affect your position.” He knew I treated the factory like my own child. A divorce would split our assets in half. He was threatening me. I knew he wouldn’t let go without a response. I gave a slight nod and waved him away. Brian relaxed. Suddenly, a bag of trash appeared at my feet. “Take this down with you,” he ordered. In the instant before the elevator doors closed, I kicked it out. Did he really think I came here today unprepared? 3 I returned to the office and took out the divorce agreement I’d had prepared long ago. The truth was, the first time I’d caught him in a gray area with another woman, I’d already had a lawyer draft it. Back then, Brian had resorted to self-harm to convince me it would never happen again. Looking at the blood on the floor, my own swelling belly, and our fledgling business, I had made the rational choice to let it go. “Ms. Quinn, they’re here,” my assistant said, knocking on the door. After a round of negotiations, I sold all of my shares in the company. The factory was my baby, but I have no use for something rotten and spoiled. Besides my son, I wanted nothing. My phone alarm went off. It was time to pick up Leo from kindergarten. But when I got there, I saw Brian. Maya was squatting next to my son, holding up a cool superhero lollipop. I had never seen such a joyful expression on Leo’s face. “Leo, who do you like more, Auntie Maya or Mommy?” Maya’s voice was impossibly sweet. Leo giggled and poked her dimple. “Then how about I become your new mommy, and I’ll even give you a little brother to play with, okay?” My son nodded vigorously and stood on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek. Brian scooped Leo up with one arm and took Maya’s hand with the other, leading them across the street. He saw my car and his eyes flicked to the driver’s seat. His gaze rested on my face for only a moment. Then he got them into his car and drove away. I sat there, my mind a complete blank, the air conditioning blasting my face until it was flushed. It took a long time for me to come back to myself. Brian had wanted me to see that. Ever since Leo started kindergarten, he had resisted my affection. I thought it was because I was too strict. Now I knew the real reason. It was clear now that the happy family I thought I controlled was just a phantom I’d created in my own mind. Unfortunately for Brian, he had miscalculated. He thought I would continue to tolerate his behavior for our son’s sake. But nothing, and no one, would stop me from leaving now. When I got home, Leo was playing with a remote-control car Maya had given him. Brian acted as if nothing had happened, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. “Didn’t you want another daughter?” “I’ll give you one tonight.” His guilty attempt at compensation only disgusted me more. I broke free from his grasp. “You should save it for Maya.” He thought I was still angry and grew more insistent, his hands roaming over me, trying to get a reaction. Usually, after a fight, sex was his way of declaring a truce. This time, there would be no truce. Brian grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me forward. Perhaps it was the proximity, but the familiar, earthy scent of soybeans that always clung to me made him instinctively turn his head away. The more I struggled, the harder he pushed. Thump. My head hit the wall. The world swam. He reflexively cupped the back of my head. His phone rang. A few seconds later, he released me, his face grim. “I’ll respect your wishes,” he sneered. “Saves me from having to take a pill just to get interested in you.” I didn’t have to guess who was calling. Brian changed his clothes, doused himself in cologne, and threw a final command at me as he rushed out the door. “Get over it. And make sure everything is ready for the annual gala next week.” Every year, he loved to make a grand show of handing out employee bonuses in cash. More than once, he’d miscounted, causing disputes. One year, I was robbed on my way back from the bank and ended up in the hospital. Now, he’d drained the company accounts to fund Maya’s lavish lifestyle. There was no money left to prop up his ego. 4 Leo stood by the door, watching me pack my suitcase. I could be ruthless with a man. But facing the son I had carried for nine months, I hesitated. I didn’t have much to pack, but I kept taking things out and putting them back in. It took me over an hour. I knelt in front of him and gently touched his soft cheek. For the first time, he didn’t swat my hand away. “Do you want to come with Mommy?” I asked softly. Leo’s eyes lit up, but then he asked, “Are you leaving? Are you never coming back?” A lump formed in my throat. “Yes, sweetie. Mommy’s not coming back.” “Come with me, okay?” I pulled him into a hug. Leo’s small voice whispered in my ear, “Great! If you leave, I’ll get a pretty mommy!” A tremor ran through me. I slowly released him and stood up. I had planned, even after leaving, to take care of Maya’s illegitimate child, to protect Leo’s inheritance from any future claims. But if this was his choice, why should I bother planning for his future? I stepped past him and walked out without looking back. The moment I landed in the Maldives, my phone started buzzing incessantly. “Ma’am, even if I gave Brian back to you now, he wouldn’t want to go.” “I’ll take good care of him and Leo.” “By the way, I’m having a boy. Brian promised him everything.” The next message was a video. It was Brian at her prenatal check-up. “Honey, put your ear to my belly and listen. The baby can hear us now~” I turned off my phone, my face a blank mask. Brian, this won’t end with a simple divorce. I have a special gift waiting for you at the annual gala. For an entire week, we had no contact. His social media, however, was flooded with at least twenty new photos of him and Maya. At the gala, Brian formally introduced Maya to everyone. His hand rested on the small of her back, his intentions clear. A few senior executives started sucking up. “Well, well, Mr. Croft, you’ve finally come to your senses.” “We never understood what you were doing with that bossy old hag.” “That’s right, Mr. Croft. When’s the wedding?” These were all people I had personally promoted. Brian smiled, his gaze dropping to Maya’s belly. “You’ll all be invited for the baby’s celebration.” They stood there like newlyweds, basking in the congratulations. When someone mentioned me, Brian’s lip curled. “She’ll be here shortly.” It was time for the cash bonus presentation. Brian finally noticed I was gone. He called my phone over and over. “Where is Victoria Quinn?!” The general manager stammered, “Ms. Quinn… we haven’t been able to reach her for a week. And this afternoon, we discovered the company accounts are completely empty.” “We tried calling you so many times, but you didn’t answer.” His voice grew smaller and smaller. Brian’s face darkened with every passing second. Suddenly, the large screen behind the stage flickered to life. A collective gasp went through the crowd. The entire hall fell silent. Brian turned to look, his face a terrifying mask of fury. His phone slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. 5 On the screen was a video I had pre-recorded. “To all my colleagues, I apologize for addressing you in this manner. Due to Mr. Brian Croft’s unauthorized mortgaging of company shares and his embezzlement of large sums of public funds to purchase real estate, cars, and other luxury items for Ms. Maya, the company’s finances have been depleted. We are unable to pay out your annual bonuses.” The room erupted. Many people were counting on those bonuses to have a good holiday season. The same executives who had been fawning over him just moments before now swarmed him. “Mr. Croft, is what Ms. Quinn said true?” “You spent our bonuses on your mistress?!” Brian’s lips were pressed into a thin, hard line. He said nothing. Beside him, Maya clutched his arm, her smile frozen on her face. The video continued. “As one of the heads of this company, I am deeply ashamed and regretful of this situation.” “Therefore, I have decided to sell all of my shares at a reduced price to ensure you all receive the compensation you have earned.” As I finished speaking, a collective sigh of relief swept through the hall. People were clapping each other on the back. “Thank God for Ms. Quinn!” Brian’s chest heaved, the air around him growing colder, so much so that even Maya shivered beside him. Just as the video ended, a loud, confident voice boomed from the main entrance. “Brian. Long time no see.” “Although tonight, I suppose I should be calling you kid.” Brian looked up and saw our company’s main competitor, Ethan Vance. He was striking in a dark red suit. He strode onto the stage in a few quick steps and playfully took the microphone. “Victoria gave me a great price, all so you fine people could get your bonuses.” “As the new director of this company, I will be restructuring all positions, and that includes yours, Mr. Croft.” Brian’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked. He could feel the blood pounding in his temples. But hearing Ethan call her Victoria… A strange, suffocating feeling tightened in his chest. Ethan was in his element on stage, his words met with thunderous applause from the audience. He was completely upstaging Brian. The man’s body was rigid, coiled like a spring, ready to leap on stage and punch him. Just then, my assistant ran up and handed him a document. He glanced at it, and his face changed dramatically. He spun on his heel and strode out of the hall, not even sparing a thought for Maya, who was left standing there. “Brian, honey, wait for me!” Maya hurried after him. I put down my wine glass, having watched the entire gala live-streamed. I was very pleased with Ethan’s performance. This was only the first step. I would make sure Brian and Maya ended up with nothing. That night, I slept more soundly than I had in years. I was just blinking myself awake when a face, stubbled and haggard, appeared above me. “Ah!” I clutched the covers to my chest. “How did you get in here?” The man’s eyes were bloodshot, his suit rumpled as if he’d slept in it. He sneered. “How do you think I got in?” He tossed our faded marriage certificate onto the bed. I had expected him to confront me, just not this quickly. He threw a folder in front of me and slammed his fist on the nightstand. “Victoria Quinn, are you serious about this?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389023”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the eve of the selection for the head of the overseas division. Lucas Thorne, acting arbitrarily, removed me from my position. “The company isn’t a charity organization. It has no obligation to pay for a failure.” My eyes reddened as I recalled my school days. He did the same thing back then, giving away my spot as an exchange student. I was 18. Lucas forcibly carried me, crying until I was short of breath, to his bedroom. Now, I’m 26. He caressed my face, smiling cruelly. “Iris, have your wings grown strong enough that you want to leave your brother?” “I absolutely forbid it.” 1 When the fire broke out at the promotion event, I was in the hospital getting an IV drip. Upon hearing the news, I rushed to the scene immediately. Thanks to timely intervention, the losses were minimal. However— In the corporate conference room, Lucas Thorne’s face was as dark as water. “Iris Vance, Marketing Director, is removed from her position and disqualified from competing for the position of Overseas Division President.” My fever hadn’t subsided, and my eardrums were buzzing. Hearing this felt like being hit by a heavy hammer. “Mr. Thorne, the promotion event was actually very successful. The accidental fire was a force majeure. Thanks to sufficient preparation, there were no casualties or property losses.” The punishment was too heavy, and someone pleaded for me. “Yes, Mr. Thorne, this is all thanks to Director Vance. She has been busy for half a month, and she wasn’t at the scene because she fainted from a high fever—” “No excuses.” Lucas interrupted coldly. His gaze darkened slightly, sweeping across my face. “Absence is dereliction of duty. Thorne Enterprises doesn’t do charity and has no obligation to pay for failures.” This sentence was too harsh. Everyone fell silent out of fear. I looked up with red eyes, meeting Lucas’s cold gaze. “Iris.” He stared at me for a long time, a hint of irritability appearing between his brows. “Do you have any objections?” 2 What objections could I have? I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. No one knew the real reason for Lucas’s anger. And no one knew that I had lived under the same roof with him for 15 years. On this ordinary weekday morning. Before leaving, Lucas clasped my waist and made me tie his tie. The Windsor knot involves complex steps. I held my breath and focused completely. Lucas looked down at me for a long time, then suddenly leaned forward and bit my lip with punishing force. “Iris, hasn’t big brother told you—” His tone was calm yet cold. “You have to be obedient, so you won’t suffer.” I gripped the untied tie tightly, trembling like a leaf. Lucas was warning me. —No matter the identity, he held the power of life and death over me. In the Thorne family, we were worlds apart. He was the noble heir apparent of the Thorne family, and I was just an insignificant foster daughter. At Thorne Enterprises, we had no intersection. He was the high-ranking CEO who could cover the sky with one hand, and I was just a small director with no foundation. Sure enough—on this supposedly ordinary workday. My CEO, Lucas Thorne, was ruthless in public. With one sentence, he knocked me back to square one after I had fought hard for five years to reach a promotion opportunity. Removed from position, disqualified from competition. I had struggled all the way here, and five years of effort were destroyed in an instant. Lucas wouldn’t care. Just as 8 years ago, using his status as my guardian, he “gave away” my spot as an exchange student to a prestigious school in France. Even though back then, countless times late at night, he carried me back to my bedroom after I fell asleep from studying hard. In the conference room. Under several sympathetic gazes, my hands hanging by my sides curled and curled again. Finally, I closed my eyes and lowered my head. “No.” 3 The CEO’s office occupying the top floor. The interior glass wall was switched to privacy mode, sealing all shameful secrets inside. Lucas pressed me onto the wide desk. Contrary to his calm composure in public, he leaned over and pinched my chin tightly, fire surging in his eyes. “Why did you submit an application for the overseas division? Have your wings grown strong enough that you want to leave your brother?” The desk was cold and hard, hurting my bare back. “No… no.” I whimpered and shook my head. “Liar.” Lucas’s gaze darkened, his movements turning violent instantly. The high fever made my whole body burn with pain, but it seemed to unexpectedly give Lucas an indescribable thrill. His throat and neck were tense, fierce and urgent. My brain was chaotic, almost suffering through it. “What does Iris want?” Finally over, Lucas looked satisfied and withdrew calmly. “A house? A car? Or jewelry? Brother will give you whatever you want.” This sentence was very familiar. Over the past 8 years, Lucas had said it countless times. I turned a deaf ear, silently pulling my clothes tight. A glass of plain water was handed to me. In the palm of his large hand with distinct knuckles lay a small white pill. My gaze moved up all the way to Lucas’s face. “Be good, take the medicine.” His eyes were gentle, and his tone was soft. This appearance only appeared afterwards. Lucas didn’t have the habit of using protection, but he never forgot to watch me take the morning-after pill every time. If nothing unexpected happened, what he was going to say next would also be familiar. Sure enough— “I transferred some money to you, go buy whatever you want.” No surprises. I lowered my eyes and twitched the corners of my mouth, obediently putting the pill into my mouth. The pill dissolved upon contact with water, so bitter that I frowned. Lucas, however, looked amused, rubbing the wound on the corner of my mouth repeatedly with his thumb. “Chloe Sterling is back.” He spoke calmly, as if casually mentioning it. But falling into my ears, it was like thunder. I was shrinking from pain, but hearing this, I froze instantly. Chloe Sterling, that prominent young lady. The granddaughter-in-law candidate recognized by Grandpa, the person who reserved the identity of Lucas’s “fiancée” 8 years ago. She was back. 4 Didn’t they say next month? How could it be so soon? “Already… back?” I panicked, even my voice trembling. Lucas ignored my question and lightly lifted the corner of his lips. “So, tomorrow morning you will receive a new personnel transfer order, the position is Special Assistant to the CEO.” Special Assistant to the CEO. Five years ago when I graduated from college, I wanted this position immensely. Lucas sneered and threw the resume I handed over with both hands into the trash can. “Your degree isn’t even good enough to enter Thorne Enterprises, and you want to be my assistant?” Seeing my red eyes, he laughed and pulled me into his arms. “Want it that much?” The dense kisses gradually deepened. Lucas pressed me kneeling at his feet, blowing seductive breaths into my ear. “Then… let brother see your performance.” That day, inexperienced me bit him out of pain and was punished by being sent to the marketing department. “Grassroots level helps accumulate work experience. If you do well, I’ll transfer you to the CEO’s office.” At that time, Lucas said so. But I worked for five years. —From waiting bitterly for the transfer order, to seeing another possibility in life. Then to that “possibility” being destroyed by Lucas himself. Now, he says he wants to transfer me, following “Chloe Sterling is back”? My brain was so groggy it was slow. I was dazed, not realizing the connection between these two things. “After all, in the future—” Lucas’s large hand pinched the back of my neck, lips close to my ear. Whispering like a demon, full of regret. “Brother can’t live with Iris anymore, it’s really… too inconvenient.” I was forced to meet his eyes. Close enough to exchange breaths, enough for me to see clearly into his eyes. Like a trapped beast on the verge of death, yet still biting the prey and refusing to let go. He wanted to maintain a secret underground relationship with me after marriage. I was horrified to the point of trembling all over, my brain suddenly clearing. “No… no way!” Almost blurting out a refusal, I suddenly grabbed Lucas’s wrist, stammering a request. “Uncle Thorne said in the meeting that business promotion in the Northwest Region is difficult, I, I can go—” “Impossible.” Lucas pulled back his hand and caressed my face. A shadow suddenly appeared in his eyes, but his smile was cruel. “Iris, don’t even think about leaving your brother.” “Being my special assistant is your only choice. The pioneering atmosphere in the Northwest is not suitable for you either.” Still the unquestionable tough tone. Lucas was always like this, never forgetting to put on a false shell of “for my own good” even when acting arbitrarily. I expected it. Dazed, I slowly lowered my hand.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389041”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The new homeless man was always staring at me. He was filthy, and I always tried to avoid him. But every day, he’d give me the weather forecast. On my birthday, he bought me a Happy Meal. He wasn’t a bad guy. I started helping him collect cans and bottles. The little money he made, he spent at a print shop. Curious, I followed him one day. He was printing missing person flyers. “If my Lulu were alive,” he said, his voice thick with sorrow, “she’d be about your age.” His daughter had been abducted by traffickers when she was three years old. 1 On my way home from work, a man in ragged clothes suddenly stepped in front of me. “Miss, could you tell me how to get to the Serenity Apartments?” He looked about fifty, but the lines etched on his face made him seem closer to seventy. His temples were completely white, and his eyes, though weary, were startlingly bright. It was strange. He looked every bit the part of a homeless man, but I wasn’t afraid. The place he was asking for was my apartment complex. I pointed him in the right direction. “Turn right at the intersection. You can’t miss it.” He grinned, a wide, genuine smile. “Thank you, miss. You’re a kind soul.” He walked faster than I did and reached the complex first. But he didn’t seem to know which apartment he was looking for. He just stood downstairs, staring blankly at the scattered lights in the windows. Winter arrived quickly. The days grew colder, the wind biting, but the old man stayed. He had made a home for himself in a small corner next to the garbage collection area, surviving by collecting recyclables. His daily meal was a bowl of the cheapest broth and noodles he could find. But he wasn’t lazy. He was often out late, returning long after dark. I never knew what he was so busy with. Our paths crossed so often that we slowly became familiar. If we met in the morning, he would remind me— “It’s getting cold. Wear an extra layer so you don’t catch a chill.” “It’s going to rain tomorrow. Don’t forget your umbrella.” I just thought he was a kind, chatty person. I’d always thank him as I passed. One day, he was carrying a huge armful of recyclables. The ground was slick, and he slipped, the bottles and cardboard scattering everywhere. I rushed over to help him up. “Are you okay?” He shook his head and immediately bent down to search for something among the debris. After a moment of frantic searching, the deep furrows in his brow finally smoothed out. I followed his gaze. He was carefully cradling a small rattle drum. It was old and plain, the kind you could find anywhere. The drum’s surface and handle were worn smooth by time. He wiped it clean with a gentle hand. I couldn’t help but ask, “Is that very precious to you?” He nodded. “This was Lulu’s favorite toy when she was little.” “Who’s Lulu?” “My daughter.” “Oh,” I said, my mind racing. How could a man with a child end up like this? As if sensing my question, he sighed. “Lulu was taken by traffickers when she was three.” I froze, the words not registering for a long moment. “I’ve been looking for her for over twenty years. Found nothing.” “I’ve been to every corner of this country. This is the last state I haven’t searched.” I asked dumbly, “So, all that work you do during the day is for…” “Yes,” he said. “To find Lulu.” In my confusion, I blurted out without thinking, “Doesn’t it cost a lot of money to look for a child? Can you really manage… doing this?” He understood my meaning and gave a bitter smile. “I had a job at first… but I was so desperate to find her…” “This is better, anyway. If I just sit in a room, the anxiety eats me alive.” “If I can’t find her, I’m always terrified that she’s suffering.” He seemed to be lost in a painful memory, his rough hand stroking the broken rattle drum over and over. 2 At lunch, I was eating on a bench in the hospital corridor. I glanced up and saw my parents again. They were standing outside the obstetrics department, listening intently to what a doctor was saying. They were nearly fifty, but they were still obsessed with having another child. I had asked them once, “You’ve been trying for ten years without success. Why keep pushing yourselves?” My parents’ faces were etched with a quiet sadness. “We just want to leave you with a brother or a sister.” But I didn’t need one. I had loving parents, a man I adored, and a promising career ahead of me. My life was full. I didn’t need anything else. I tossed my lunch and went back to work. When I got home that evening, my parents were both there, a feast spread across the table. My mother saw me and waved happily. “Luna, come here.” I sat down. “Mom, what’s got you so happy?” My father brought the last dish to the table. “The best news! Your mother’s pregnant!” Clatter. My chopsticks fell from my hand, landing on my bowl. After a brief, heavy silence, they spoke with a hint of guilt. “We’re sorry, Luna. Your mother just really wanted another baby.” After a long moment, I nodded, my face a blank mask. “As long as you’re happy. Are there any risks?” My mother’s joy returned. “They said no! I feel great!” “That’s good,” I said, my voice flat. I used to have a sister. My father told me about her. She died of an illness when she was three. My mother fell into a deep depression, which only lifted when I was born. For over twenty years, I had been the pride of our family. An Ivy League graduate, a doctor at one of the top hospitals in the country. I was, by all accounts, a success. But my sister’s death had left a scar on their hearts, one that could only be healed by the arrival of a new child. The rest of the meal was quiet. I tried to make conversation. “How’s the charity work going?” “Everything’s going well,” my father replied. “The donations have been increasing,” my mother added. “We’ve been able to help several more families who have lost their only child.” Growing up, my parents were rarely around. They were always traveling for work. When I was young and didn’t understand, I accused them of not loving me. They would just smile sadly. It wasn’t until I was older that I understood they were doing something more important than making money—they were helping thousands of parents find their abducted children. My old complaints faded away, replaced by a quiet sense of pride. 3 A few nights later, the streetlights on my way home were out. The path ahead was pitch black, and I had to use my phone’s flashlight to see. As I reached the entrance to my complex, the old man was waiting anxiously. When he saw me, he hurried over. “Why are you so late tonight? Did you run into trouble?” His concern seemed a little excessive, but I didn’t think much of it. “The streetlights are broken,” I explained. After that night, there was another set of footsteps on my walk home. At first, it scared me, but when I saw the familiar shadow, I relaxed. It was the old man. He kept a polite distance, escorting me to the entrance of the complex before we went our separate ways. The next day, as I was making breakfast, I paused and added a little extra to the pan. I found the old man and handed him a carton of milk and a sandwich. He looked surprised and stammered for a moment. I was about to miss my bus, so I just pushed the food into his hands and ran off. The old man started meeting me on my way home from work with a fresh apple or a small basket of sweet strawberries. We seemed to have fallen into a comfortable, unspoken routine. I gave him breakfast; he gave me fruit and snacks. It was never much, just a few dollars’ worth of things, but I knew it was all he could afford. On my days off, I would sometimes help him carry his recyclables to the collection center. He’d count the few dozen dollars he made, putting half away and using the other half to buy me a roasted sweet potato. I felt bad taking it, but he would just smile and say, “Go on, eat it. Just pretend I’m buying it for Lulu.” His devotion to his daughter was so deep. I had no choice but to accept. “Thank you, sir.” I broke the sweet potato in two and handed him half. He hesitated for a second before taking it. The sweet potato that day was incredible. So sweet that it would hold a special place in my memory for the rest of my life, a marker of a happy moment. After we ate, he asked me where he could find a print shop. I looked it up on my phone and took him there. He handed the owner a battered, old flash drive. “Hello. I’d like to print something.” The owner gave him a disdainful look. “How many copies?” The old man pulled a handful of crumpled bills and loose change from his pocket—nickels, dimes, quarters, ones, fives, tens, twenties… a small mountain of money. “Whatever this will buy.” The owner plugged the drive into his computer and stared at the single image on the screen. He looked at the old man, then turned and called to a younger employee. “Come count this.” Half an hour later, the printing was done. Stacks of paper were piled high on the floor. Four bold words were printed on every sheet: “HAVE YOU SEEN ME?” 4 It took me a moment to find my voice. “Are you sure you can hand out all of these?” The old man smiled. “I’m sure.” I picked up one of the stacks. It was heavy. My eyes scanned the dozen or so remaining piles. I took out my phone to call a cab. “It’s fine,” the old man said. “I’ll just make a few trips. It’ll keep me warm.” The owner glanced between the two of us and finally said, “Just leave them here. Come get them whenever you need them.” The old man was filled with gratitude. “Good people are blessed with good fortune,” he said, bowing his head. When we left the shop, we each had a stack of flyers in our hands. “I could have done this myself, you know,” the old man said with a weary smile. “It’s good exercise,” I replied, smiling back. We spent the afternoon handing out the flyers. The old man bought me a bottle of water. I didn’t refuse. We sat on a curb, and I asked him, “Did you spend all your money on the printing?” He shook his head. “I saved a little. Put it on a card.” I watched the traffic go by. “Why don’t you spend some on yourself?” I asked softly. “Eat better, get some warmer clothes… a better place to stay.” “I’m all alone. It doesn’t matter where I live,” he said. “I’m saving it for Lulu.” I looked at his weathered face and felt a pang of sadness. “What if… what if you can’t find her?” His expression didn’t change. Perhaps he had cried all his tears long ago. “If I can’t find her, I’ll donate it.” I took a deep breath. “You won’t have to,” I said, trying to comfort him. “You said it yourself. Good people are blessed with good fortune.” After a moment, he pulled a notebook from his army-green coat. It was falling apart, the cover long gone. The edges were held together with layers of tape. He opened it. “Lulu was taken on her third birthday.” He pointed to a simple drawing on the first page. “She was always asking for a family portrait on the phone.” “I was busy with work, no time to go home. So I drew one for her.” “I was going to give it to her for her birthday…” The lines in the drawing were shaky, retraced several times to get them right. The following pages were filled with portraits of a little girl. The drawings became more skilled over time, but the girl’s features grew blurrier and blurrier. The old man’s gaze fell on the last drawing. “I’ve never seen Lulu grown up,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine what she looks like.” A lump formed in my throat. I didn’t dare speak. He turned another page, revealing years of calendars. In the early years, each day was filled with words. “Lulu, Daddy saw a girl today who looked just like you. Her eyes, her nose, her mouth… only her hands were different. If you were grown up, you would be even more beautiful.” “Today is my last day in Nevada. I’ve spent a year here and found no trace of you. Tomorrow, I’m going to Oregon. Will you be there?” Later, the entries grew shorter. “Searched all of Florida. No Lulu. Next stop, Georgia.” The following year, he had crossed out that entry in red ink and written a new one: “Lulu, Dad misses you.” I couldn’t bring myself to read any more. I covered my face, unable to speak. The old man’s sighs came one after another, heavy with sorrow.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389057”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Bella Maxwell, the undisputed queen of Blackwood Academy, cornered me by the lockers, demanding to know why I’d left the final question of the calculus exam blank. “Don’t try to pretend you know how,” she asserted, her voice layered with condescension. “Only a handful of people—and I mean only me—could crack that problem. Just admit it, Reed.” That single, arrogant sentence put five thousand dollars into my bank account. My deskmate, Tess Riley, immediately chimed in. “Yeah, stop lying, you Swamp Thing. Always putting on airs.” Another five thousand dollars. I had meticulously curated this role—the ugly, gap-toothed, low-achieving liar—and relied on their daily barrage of scorn and insults. It had allowed me to quietly amass $14.8 million. I continued to play the part. Until the day world-renowned artist and choreographer Corinne Sinclair arrived at school for an exclusive audition, insisting that all male participants be completely bare-faced. Jax Donovan, the resident football star and supposed school heartthrob, smirked with open malice. “Better skip this one, Asher. You don’t want to scare Corinne Sinclair away, do you?” Only I knew how catastrophically wrong they were about to be. 1 I was sixteen when I discovered my ability to monetize malice. I had missed the freshman orientation and retreat due to a sudden illness. By the time I returned to class, the rumor that I was “the ugly kid” had already spread through the entire grade. Jax Donovan and his entourage were the primary sources. “Asher Reed? Yeah, I went to middle school with him,” Jax told his buddies, loud enough for me to hear. “The kid practically lived under a baseball cap and a mask. Guess he knew he couldn’t show his face.” Someone beside him always agreed. “Right? Jax is the school’s golden boy. The fact that the Gargoyle was even in the same building was a privilege. Gross that he followed Jax here for high school, too.” The rumors evolved. It started with me crushing on the most popular girl. Then, somehow, it morphed into me having a secret, sickening crush on Jax himself. I did nothing, said nothing, yet two days into the school year, I had forty thousand dollars deposited into my account. I tracked the amount—it corresponded precisely to four distinct insults aimed at me. Because Jax had established the narrative first, no one ever considered that my appearance was a disguise. I was simply the “Gargoyle” who’d followed the “Golden Boy.” I had operated this peculiar, profitable system for nine hundred and sixty-four days. The balance in my bank account was a number most people wouldn’t see in a lifetime. When I looked at that number, the vile words seemed less important. They weren’t insults; they were a program executing a transaction. I reorganized my life around it. I woke up at four a.m., two hours before everyone else. I spent ninety minutes on my studies and the remaining thirty on meticulously applying the “ugly mask”—the careful arrangement of makeup, hair, and clothing that would reliably provoke the insults and trigger the deposits. For a kid who had to budget every meal, the money was useful. A few words wouldn’t hurt me; my psychological tolerance was high. Besides, in three months, I would graduate, and my life would diverge completely from theirs. 2 Today, Tess Riley brought in a new “Ugly Guy Leaderboard.” My stolen, unflattering photo sat at the top, marked with a huge, angry red ‘X.’ “Congratulations, Asher Reed,” she drawled, her voice a sickly sweet imitation of a TV host. “You’ve clinched number one again.” She turned to the students in the front row. “What can I say? The Swamp Thing is a natural-born winner.” Jax Donovan threw his head back and laughed. I glanced at the photo and tried to focus on my notes. The final college-prep mock exam results had just been posted. Bored students had started a “Guy Rating Scorecard,” and as it circulated, I was consistently awarded the lowest score: two points. In their cruel, coded slang, two points was the rating for “The Gargoyle.” Tess, my deskmate, snatched the form and tossed it onto my desk. “Can’t be helped. Your teeth jut out, your skin is like asphalt, and your personality is worse. I lost a bet, otherwise I wouldn’t sit next to you.” Last month, I’d been accused of cheating. My test paper and Jax’s had suspiciously identical answers, down to the punctuation. I sat in front of him, and my average scores were always better. But Jax had only to wrinkle his nose and squeeze out a few crocodile tears—he had eyes that weirdly resembled the famous TikToker “A.R. Sings”—and the girls immediately decided I must have copied him. The scandal only died when the Math department head found the definitive proof: a complex problem involving the Greek letter Beta (β) that only I had solved correctly. But after that, the negative chatter only intensified. I went from an overlooked nobody to their definite “Swamp Thing” or “The Rat.” The small harassments started: being locked in a bathroom stall and having a bucket of dirty mop water poured over me, or simply walking past the art wing and setting off a chorus of mocking catcalls and invented rumors about me crushing on one of the cheerleaders. Teenagers are brilliant storytellers, and their vocabulary of cruelty grew daily. Anyone else would have crumbled. I remained perfectly calm. 3 My score on the first mock exam put me second in the entire school. The only person ahead of me was Bella Maxwell, the Dean’s daughter, an accomplished violinist who already had an acceptance letter from Juilliard. But she insisted on taking the college exams, and until then, she’d been the undisputed number one. Since I no longer needed to work odd jobs, I had more time to study, and my scores had finally closed the gap. Sera and I began trading the top spot. I checked my score, confirmed I was well within range for my target school, and started to pack up. Rank didn’t matter to me. But after class, Sera came looking for me. “Asher Reed, the Queen wants a word,” Jax informed me, a venomous edge of jealousy in his tone. I met his gaze and walked out into the hall. The familiar ‘+5,000’ dinged in my head. Sera stood leaning against the wall. Even in the plain school uniform, she looked immaculate, her gold-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on her nose. Her brow immediately furrowed when she saw me. “Asher, why didn’t you attempt the final problem on the calculus section?” I recalled the question. I had solved that exact derivative three times the previous week. I had a rule: if I’ve solved a difficult problem twice, I won’t waste time writing it out again. I told her simply, “I was being efficient.” Her frown deepened, and she reached out, grabbing my wrist. “You can have bad character, Reed, but don’t lie about your intelligence,” she said, her eyes, magnified behind the lenses, were ice-cold. “I spent twenty minutes on that problem. In this entire school, I’m the only one with the capacity to solve it.” She delivered her verdict. “You just couldn’t do it. Don’t make excuses.” Tess followed us out, backing her up. “She’s right, Asher. You’re desperate to save face.” I didn’t know how to respond to such absolute, unshakeable arrogance. Just then, Jax burst out of the classroom, practically vibrating with excitement. “Guys, the National Dance Fellowship is holding an unprecedented audition at our school!” 4 “The notice says this is a fast-track invitation!” Jax waved a flier. “If you get selected, you’re guaranteed a fellowship and a chance to share the stage with Corinne Sinclair!” Corinne Sinclair was an icon. She achieved fame young, studied in Vienna at seven, and was internationally known by fourteen. She was stunningly beautiful and universally acknowledged as an artistic genius. Her immense fame, however, had led to a serious invasion of her privacy. She had retreated to the relative quiet of our state, rarely appearing in public. Jax clutched the flier, his voice ringing with fervor. “Corinne Sinclair… If I could just be on the same stage as her, even as an extra, I’d die happy!” A few boys reached for the flier, but Tess swatted their hands away. “Look at yourselves. This is clearly for Jax. Don’t waste your time. You want to dance with Corinne? Dream on.” Jax lifted his chin, already certain of his success. “I’ll be sure to hand out signed photos later.” Tess instantly fawned. “Oh, Jax, when you’re famous, promise you won’t forget me.” It was only then that Jax seemed to notice me. “Oh, Asher Reed. You’re still here.” He smiled—an awful, fake amiability. “Are you going to try out? The notice says all boys are required to attend. You can sign up with me.” Before I could answer, Tess cut in. “Him? The Fellowship is looking for dancers, not… cautionary tales. Don’t embarrass the class, Asher.” Jax chuckled, a sound like scraping metal. “Yeah, man, you need to know your limits. You definitely shouldn’t go. Especially if Corinne shows up… you might terrify her.” I ignored them, pulled a new set of practice tests from my backpack, and started working. Sera, who had watched the exchange with an unreadable expression, finally asked me, “Asher, are you going?” “No,” I said, without looking up. “Why?” “I have to study.” 5 The day of the Fellowship audition, every boy in the school went to the main yard. Except me. I sat alone in an empty classroom, working through my practice tests. My seat was by the window, giving me a clear view of the proceedings. Jax had preened for the occasion. He’d spent a fortune on his hair, getting a specialized stylist to craft it into an artful sculpture. All the boys had put on their best performance attire, hoping to seize the opportunity. I kept writing. After the Dean’s introductory remarks, Corinne Sinclair walked onto the stage. She wore a simple white gown, and her presence was as cool and distant as her public image suggested. The first step of the audition, she announced, was mandatory: every boy had to completely wash off all makeup, foundation, and hair products. It was, she explained, a non-negotiable requirement from the Fellowship Director. Jax’s face went pale. He shot a frantic glance at Corinne, but resignedly grabbed a cleansing wipe. “Wait,” Corinne suddenly said, her voice cutting across the silence. “Are all the male students present?” The Dean was flustered. “We… we believe so.” Tess piped up eagerly, “Yes, sir! They’re all here, Jax was one of the first!” Corinne frowned. “No. I sense one is missing.” The Vice Principal said, “The hall monitor just checked the classrooms. They were empty.” Bella Maxwell, who had been standing silently nearby, finally spoke. “There is one person missing,” she said, her voice flat. “Someone who did not want to come.” 6 I finished the final problem and closed the test booklet. “Ms. Sinclair, the student is right here.” The Vice Principal ushered a group of people into the room, knocking on the open door. “Asher Reed, still studying? Why miss an audition this important?” He moved to pat my shoulder. I subtly moved out of range. “No need, sir,” I said calmly. “I know I won’t be selected, so I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.” The Vice Principal’s hand stopped in mid-air, his expression slightly unnatural, much like the last time he’d cornered me privately and asked to “talk” about my “poor attitude.” “Nonsense, son. You can’t know if you don’t try.” A cool, detached voice came from behind him. I looked up and saw Corinne Sinclair. She was exactly as I remembered her: pale lips, long lashes, and an aura of remote perfection. My heart gave a quick, sharp beat. I allowed myself a small, knowing smile. “I won’t trouble you,” I paused, and used the name only she and I ever used. “Corinne.” “Hmph,” she actually responded. “Since you still acknowledge me as your sister, you will come with me now.” Her tone permitted no argument. The Dean and the other teachers exchanged shocked glances, but the Dean quickly recovered, his eyes now alight with a strange new enthusiasm. “Well, Asher, let’s go! You heard Ms. Sinclair!” I had no choice but to follow them to the yard. The boys waiting on the field had been muttering for a while. I caught Tess’s voice on the edge of the crowd. “This is pointless. Why drag Asher Reed out here? Doesn’t he look even worse without his heavy clothes?” Another girl laughed. “Yeah, the first round is looks. He’s already disqualified.” “I thought the Queen had a thing for him, but she just wanted to watch him squirm.” The whispers seemed to soothe Jax, whose color had started to return. The Dean led me back to the stage and addressed the crowd. “We had a small clerical error. We’ve found the missing student. The audition will now continue.” I was escorted to a corner where a basin of water waited. This was no gentle wipe; it was industrial-strength makeup remover. Tess, standing nearby, was triumphant. “That’s from my uncle’s lab! It dissolves anything! Get ready for the freak show, everyone!” Jax, who had finished his own removal, was still covering his face with his hands. Someone shouted, “Hurry up, Asher! Wash it off!” I took a deep breath and plunged my hands into the water.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389073”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My childhood best friend thought I was too well-behaved. Yet he fell in love with the even more well-behaved scholarship student. Out of spite, I started hanging out with the wrong crowd and got involved with some thugs. Desperate and cornered, I begged him to save me. He ignored me. Covering the scholarship student’s eyes with his hand, he gently said, “Don’t look, it’ll scare you.” He abandoned me in that dark alley, where I was tortured to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my best friend rejected me. 01 When cutting the cake, they egged me on to confess. I mustered my courage and said, “Lucas, my birthday wish is you.” The hand Lucas used to hold his cigarette trembled. He smiled. A bad boy smile, he said, “Sorry, you’re too well-behaved.” “Not my type.” In my previous life, these words drove me crazy. Thinking of my miserable death. My body turned cold, and I wished I could kill Lucas right now. “Sarah, are you okay?” “Lucas, seriously, can’t you say something nice to make the birthday girl happy?” Lucas remained his lazy, nonchalant self. He blew a smoke ring. Lazy drawl, he said, “I can’t learn to lie.” His lazy, slight New York accent was very charming. But listening to it, I only felt disgusted. In front of everyone, I cold my face and made a new birthday wish. “Lucas, I wish that in this life and the next, you and I will have nothing to do with each other ever again.” I blew out the candles. They tried to stop me, but couldn’t. Lucas’s smile froze on his face. “Sarah, are you serious?” “I’ll give you another chance. Make a new wish, and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear what you just said.” No need. I ignored him. Picked up the knife and cut the cake. Lucas ran to me and grabbed the blade with his right hand. “Sarah, I’m talking to you.” The blade cut his finger. Blood flowed out. Someone exclaimed: “Blood! Lucas, you’re bleeding!” I know. He was having another episode. Lucas had severe psychological issues. In my previous life, only I could stop his episodes. Oh. Specifically. Before the scholarship student appeared. Only I could. Because of this, I also always thought that for him, I was a special existence. Until I heard his lazy tone when he coaxed the scholarship student. “She’s different from you.” “At best, she’s a placebo. Only you are my only medicine.” “Without you, I’ll die.” I let go and said, “If you like it so much, I’ll give it to you.” I turned to leave, Lucas threw the knife and grabbed me. His bloody fingers soiled my white shirt. “Sarah, who are you throwing a tantrum for?” Blood terrified me. Uncontrollably, I remembered the things from my previous life. My head spun, I couldn’t handle it, and fainted. When I woke up, Lucas was guarding my bedside. “Awake?” “Clearly you made me angry, and I had to carry you back. Sarah, how do you plan to coax me?” Lucas was a prodigal son. He always loved to say such ambiguous things. Making my heart rise with expectations I shouldn’t have. But I was no longer the same as before. I knew very well. Facing the person he truly liked, Lucas couldn’t say a word of flirtation. Even when he confessed, his voice trembled. I sighed and said, “I’m tired.” “Lucas, let’s not see each other again in the future.” 02 The next day, I went to school alone. Lucas didn’t wait for me. I knew this was his punishment for me. He was waiting for me to apologize to him. But I ignored him all day. In the afternoon, I was sleeping in the classroom and was shaken awake. “Sarah! Wake up! Lucas got into a fight on the basketball court!” I wasn’t fully awake yet. My desk mate dragged me to the basketball court. “Go see, Lucas is going crazy. Only you can stop him.” No. He was wrong. There was no need for me to go. Because his female lead had already appeared. My guess was right. When we arrived, Lucas had stopped fighting and was sitting aside, sweating profusely. Beside him sat a girl. She wore a low ponytail, her face tranquil. Holding his hand, her voice carried a hint of a choke. Whispering: “Lucas, you’re hurt.” Lucas hated outsiders’ touch the most. Wanted to pull his hand back. But when his gaze met mine, he stopped his action, his eyes darkened, allowing Mia Chen to hold his hand. The senior he beat up left with the help of classmates. “Wait,” he called out to him. Pointed to Mia beside him. “Apologize.” The senior was beaten black and blue. Classmates tried to persuade him: “Lucas, let him go to the hospital first.” Lucas refused, his voice deep, repeated: “I said, apologize to her.” Mia grabbed Lucas’s hand and shook her head: “It’s okay, Lucas, I’m fine.” The senior was beaten like that, and he still had to bow and apologize. Someone asked him why he was beaten. My desk mate answered: “He called her a scholarship student, and Lucas heard it.” “Deserved it! Who told him to have a cheap mouth!” “Lucas is so handsome! A hero saving the beauty!” “High school sweet romance walking into my life?” Only I knew that the truth wasn’t like that. In my previous life, the senior was forced to transfer schools by Lucas. Before leaving, he found me. Told me to be careful of Mia Chen. He wouldn’t say more. Probably scared by Lucas’s beating. The senior needed to go to the hospital, it would take some time for the ambulance to arrive. I ran over and said: “Drive my car.” The senior was startled and said: “Thanks, no need.” Lucas ran over and grabbed my arm. “Sarah, are you intentionally making me unhappy?” I looked at Mia Chen behind him, whose eyes were red. “Mind your own business.” “If you dare to leave, don’t come to find me again.” I didn’t look back. Left with classmates helping the senior. “Bang!” Commotion behind. It was Lucas punching the basketball hoop. Tsk. Really doesn’t care about pain. 03 Lucas and I didn’t have much interaction recently. Heard that for Mia Chen, he hadn’t fought for a long time. Even turned over a new leaf and wanted to study hard. Lucas’s brothers called him to go to the internet cafe. Mia Chen whispered to him: “You haven’t memorized the English vocabulary yet.” Lucas sighed long, and sat back down. “Strict family, can’t go.” My desk mate told me stories like this every day. Just every time they saw me approaching, they would stop discussing and turn to do their own things. “She’s so pitiful.” “Yeah, chased Lucas for so long, intercepted by a scholarship student.” Pitiful? I didn’t think so. My procedures for going abroad were done. Once I passed the English exam, I would go abroad to study. Study my favorite journalism major. My beautiful new life was about to begin. That day after school, Lucas’s mom stopped me: “Sarah, Lucas forgot his medicine again. Help Auntie take it to him.” I really wanted to refuse. But seeing the bruises on Lucas’s mom’s wrist, I sighed and said: “Okay.” I asked Lucas: “Where are you?” He replied to me a long time later, sending me a location. Pool hall. In my previous life, I went to this place a lot. After I arrived, I went downstairs familiarly. The choking smell of smoke made me feel nauseous. I found Lucas at a glance. He was standing at the central pool table, betting on pool with others. A thick stack of cash was on the table. I walked over and threw the medicine to him. “Your mom asked me to bring it to you.” Seeing me. Lucas frowned and said: “Who let you come?” I didn’t pay attention to him at all. Dropped the medicine and left. Blocked by someone. “Lucas, your girlfriend?” Lucas sneered, took the cigarette handed to him, and tucked it behind his ear: “You think it’s possible?” At this moment, Mia Chen came in with her backpack. As soon as she entered, she kept coughing. Lucas stood up and blocked in front of her. “Put out all the cigarettes.” The guy with yellow teeth who blocked me just now grinned. “Seems like the real sister-in-law is here.” Mia Chen’s face was red through. “Lucas, don’t talk nonsense. The teacher said, we can’t…” “I know.” Lucas lightly hooked her nose tip. “Good girl, call me big brother, I’ll let you go.” Mia Chen said “Ah”, pointing at the cigarette on his ear: “Lucas, didn’t you promise me to quit smoking?” I sensed Lucas’s gaze falling on me. Suddenly remembered, I also asked him to quit smoking before. Because I had asthma since I was young and couldn’t stand the smell of smoke. He refused even perfunctorily then, and deliberately blew smoke rings in my face, saying: “Can’t do it.” A cold smile appeared on my lips. Wanted to bypass the crowd to leave. Pulled by someone again. “Don’t go, little sister.” “Lucas, hurry up. Two against two. My girlfriend is here. Who’s going to play on your side?” 04 I walked straight out. Mia Chen tugged my cuff. “I… I don’t know how to play pool.” I frowned and said, “What does that have to do with me?” “I…” Fierced by me, Mia’s eyes reddened. Lucas ran over, shielded her behind him, and questioned me: “Can’t you talk properly?” “Psycho.” I wanted to leave, but he blocked me. Unbearable, I deliberately provoked him: “What, Lucas? Playing hard to get, want me to be your girlfriend?” “In, your, dreams.” “Then don’t block me.” I left. This time no one stopped me. Heard Mia’s flustered voice behind me: “What to do, Lucas? I don’t know how to play pool.” Lucas coaxed her patiently: “Silly girl, with me here, you won’t lose.” I had no interest in winning or losing their game. Just at dinner time. My mom kept sighing, saying: “Today I saw Lily again, covered in bruises. Old Xu is too much…” “By the way, Sarah, why haven’t I seen Lucas come home for dinner these days? Did you two fight?” “No.” “That’s good. If you have nothing to do, call…” I looked up and interrupted my mom. “I broke up with him.” “Huh? Why?” I took a bite of the tender fish. “No reason, just hate people who are blind.” My mom was careful and asked: “Lucas is dating?” I picked a piece of fish and put it in Mom’s bowl. “Yeah, ‘Give Life’ literature walked into reality, so sweet.” They acted in an idol drama, but insisted on dragging me, a passerby, to be a supporting actress. Early morning at school, I heard Mia Chen crying. “What to do, Lucas? It was in my school bag this morning, how come it’s gone when I came back?” My desk mate told me: “The class fees Mia kept were gone. Everyone is helping her find them now.” I said casually: “Check the surveillance.” Mia reacted strongly. Specifically walked up to me and said: “Sarah, my family is poor, but I haven’t reached the point of stealing class fees.” I didn’t say she stole class fees. What’s the rush. Lucas walked over and ordered coldly. “Apologize to her.” I put my school bag on the table and sat down. The school bag was thrown by him. The desk was also overturned by him. Lucas had an episode again. “Apologize to her, can’t you hear?” The classmates dared not breathe. No one dared to stop him. I bent down, wanting to lift my desk. My neck was strangled by Lucas. His eyes red, saying: “A-po-lo-gize-to-her.” I couldn’t breathe. Tears came to my eyes, and my neck was quickly strangled with a circle of red marks. Mia stopped him: “Lucas! Lucas!” He wouldn’t listen to anyone. Looking at me with red eyes. Didn’t know who he mistook me for. Several teachers rushed in and separated us. Mia went up and hugged the crazy Lucas. “It’s okay, it’s okay, Lucas. I don’t care about others, as long as you believe me.” He buried his head in her neck, his gaze aimed at my direction. I was taken to the infirmary by the teachers. His gaze was obscure. Staring at my departing back all the time.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389089”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I received a confession for my boyfriend on the university’s “confession wall” page that I run. At first, I was happily thinking he was quite a catch, but the next day the girl commented, “Thanks Wall, we’re together now.” I looked at my boyfriend beside me and fell into deep thought. 1 I manage our university’s confession wall account because I find it interesting to watch others confess their love. I didn’t tell anyone that I was the one behind this account because I was worried it would lose its sense of mystery, and also worried about missing out on gossip about my friends. But I never expected that one day I would receive a confession from another girl for my boyfriend. That confession was very simple, roughly saying: “Senior Liam from X College, I like you very much, and I’ve liked you for a long time.” And attached a photo of his back. I would recognize that back even if it were burned to ashes; it was definitely my boyfriend. I originally felt smug, thinking that I had good taste and that the man I chose was actually a hot commodity. Then I didn’t take it seriously and forgot about it. Who would have thought that the next day, this girl would message me privately again. “Thank you, Wall, we are together now. Just came to give feedback, no need to post it.” ??? I looked at my boyfriend who was eating with me and fell into deep contemplation. “Liam, how have you been lately?” He looked up at me slightly blankly, “Huh? Aren’t I with you every day?” Yes, that’s why I’m even more confused. The reason I didn’t take that confession seriously was that in my heart, Liam was absolutely the kind of person who would not cheat. He would report his whereabouts at any time, be on call, and his phone had no password for me to check at any time. We have been together for almost six years, from high school to junior year of college, and even agreed to get married after graduation. I absolutely wouldn’t believe such a person would cheat. So I decided to give him a little trust first and start with that girl to see if she mistook someone or if it was just a misunderstanding. So I created a fake account to add that girl, with the note “Friend of Liam.” Unexpectedly, she accepted very quickly, but the girl seemed very vigilant and just sent a question mark. “It’s okay, Old Liam asked me to add you, he can’t talk right now.” The girl still didn’t say anything, just sent an “Oh.” But it was this “Oh” that made me suspicious. Normally, hearing such strange words, one would at least ask a question. But she didn’t question it, just replied “Oh.” I don’t know what happened, maybe it was a girl’s intuition. I suddenly had a flash of inspiration and thought of two things from a long, long time ago. About a year and a half ago, the photography club Liam belonged to seemed to have a girl as a model. I remember after the photos came out, I even praised, “Cute little girl.” A year ago, Liam suddenly hung a little duck on his backpack. Because it was cute, I noticed it. “Liam, I remember you didn’t like small dolls before.” He just pinched it, “I saw it that day and thought it was quite cute, so I hung it. You like it? Then I’ll give it to you?” “If you think it’s cute, just hang it.” Two very simple things suddenly appeared in my mind. I still remember that girl was his direct junior, and we occasionally bumped into her on campus, and she would greet both of us. When I looked carefully at the little girl’s social media, I found it very clean, without any information, also like a fake account. After saying goodbye to Liam, on the way back to the dormitory, I went through their club’s Instagram. I looked through all the posts from one to two years ago and finally found the one where that girl was a model. I found the account of the girl’s classmate through the comments section, and then found the girl’s own account from the like records. I found out that the girl seemed to have a boyfriend??? This boyfriend looked more and more familiar to me. Wasn’t this Liam’s classmate??? I began to suspect if I was overthinking, maybe it wasn’t this girl. But I scrolled through her homepage and found that she had posted a photo of a little duck identical to Liam’s doll?? “Playing so big?!” 2 Once suspicion arises, everything seems suspicious. Liam and I are in different departments, so our schedules are different. We shared our schedules and always chose times when both were free to meet. This day, I picked an unimportant elective class of his and sneaked in. I wore a mask and a hat, sitting early in the corner of the last row of the lecture hall. As class time approached, students came in one by one. I stared almost unblinkingly, but I didn’t see Liam walk into this classroom. At first, I still held onto hope, wondering if he skipped class. Ten minutes into the class, the professor took out the roster and started roll call. Surprisingly, his name was not there! I swear I didn’t miss any name, but there was no Liam Walker. Originally, I just had a curious gossip mentality, and even always felt like an outsider watching this farce. Until this moment, I felt my heart cool inch by inch. This matter is nine out of ten true. Being together for five years, we experienced so many things, thousands of days and nights that I thought were full of love. When I smiled and planned the future with him, he was probably watching coldly and planning how to leave. Thinking about it, I couldn’t help crying. Because I was in class, I couldn’t make a sound, so I could only bury my head and wipe away the tears that welled up bit by bit. “Classmate? Are you okay?” I was startled, looked up and waved my hand, “Sorry, sorry, I’m fine.” He handed over a pack of tissues, “Wipe it.” When thanking him, I seriously looked at the person next to me. It was actually that girl’s boyfriend. He didn’t seem to recognize me as Liam’s girlfriend. He just politely handed me the tissue and turned back to listen to the class. “Um, classmate, I’m also in this class. Can I add you on WeChat? We can form a group and do homework together.” Actually, I wasn’t sure he would agree, after all, he had a girlfriend. Adding a girl on WeChat might feel inappropriate. He indeed hesitated for a moment, showing a thoughtful expression on his face. Just when I thought he would refuse me, he said, “Okay.” The boy looked delicate and fair, seemingly introverted and quiet. What the hell, blind eyes, having such a good-looking boyfriend and insisting on snatching a piece of shit from me. After class, we politely said goodbye and agreed to save seats for each other next time. I browsed the boy’s Moments, set to three days visible, signature and background were blank, not looking like he was in a relationship. Walking into the campus following the flow of students after class, I walked aimlessly, my mind full of bits and pieces of the past with Liam. I began to doubt if those happy moments were fake. If every vow he made was fake. If from the first moment he saw that girl, I was no longer the number one person in his heart. Walking, I couldn’t help crying again, but there were too many people around, so I had to hide in a small path and walk all the way to a corner of the secluded artificial lake. Then I happened to see two people holding hands on a bench, the girl smiling very happily. Just as I was about to leave, I heard Liam’s voice, “Your hands are so soft.” Being some distance away, the girl blocked his face, but I remembered his voice. Talking on the phone every day for five years, how could I not recognize it. Then I stood there dumbfounded, watching the boy reach out and stroke the girl’s head. The two of them were kissing. At that moment, I wanted to rush over and slap each of them. Then loudly question, why can you be so shameless! The fire in my chest almost broke through my reason. But, not enough, not enough! Going over to break the window paper and break up like this would be directly giving up my seat, letting this pair of dogs be together without any psychological burden. Except for a few seconds of physical pain and a few words of insult, they are deeply in love, how can they empathize with half of my pain today. I will never let them off so easily. So an evil thought quietly arose in my heart: you cheated on me, then I’ll cheat on you too. The pain of cutting flesh must be experienced personally to be bloody enough. I will use all means to stay by Liam’s side, letting your relationship remain underground forever. Then get your boyfriend, every one of your boyfriends. Liam Walker, I want your heart to never get a moment of peace from now on. 3 I took photos of them, uploaded them to a private album in my cloud, and then cleared the traces on my phone. After crying heavily, I carefully reviewed the bits and pieces of the past. I couldn’t be sure at all, and dared not be sure, at which moment a third person appeared in our relationship. After crying enough, I returned to the dorm, looking at the person in the mirror, examining carefully. Messy hair, plain and yellowish face, wearing a large unisex hoodie, baseball cap always pressing half the face. Since falling in love, except for special occasions or when in a good mood, I rarely put on makeup. Bought many beautiful dresses, but because I didn’t like washing my hair and felt the style didn’t match, the tags were never removed. I thought we had been together for so long, we knew each other’s looks by heart even with eyes closed, why bother with these fancy tricks. I put down the mirror and moved all the clothes out of the closet. Cleared out a small pile of tattered T-shirts, black, white and gray baggy jackets, unisex knee-length shorts. Folded them one by one into a clean bag and put them into the recycling bin downstairs. After throwing away the clothes, I carried my shower basket to the school bathhouse, thinking of washing away the bad luck and regrouping. Who would have thought I would meet that girl here again. The bathhouse in the north is public. After undressing, everyone meets honestly under dozens of shower heads. The bathhouse was steamy, blurring everyone’s faces. I was opposite her, rubbing foam on my head. Glanced twice, slender and tender girl, flat abdomen, curvy like a flower bud. I looked down at myself; my tummy was quite magnificent. For a second, I was a little discouraged, even mocking myself secretly, does a girl like me deserve to be dumped by a man. She turned around to scrub her back. I looked up and saw a patch of crimson turning purple under the hair on the back of her neck. It was a hickey. These two poor losers, can’t afford a room? My fighting spirit soared again instantly. Why should my worthiness of love be judged by such animals? After washing, I went straight to the hair salon and spent twenty bucks to straighten and volumize my hair. Back in the dorm, I dug out a slim-fitting misty pink long dress, put away my frame glasses, wore small diameter colored contacts, and put on light makeup. My roommates clicked their tongues in wonder, “What big day is it today?” While applying makeup, I messaged Liam, “Liam, miss you, walk with me later.” The message came back quickly, “Okay, I miss you too.” I looked at that message, lost in thought for a long time, eyeliner almost drawn into my scalp along the eyelid. Can a heart really be split into two mutually non-interfering parts to love different people separately? When I went downstairs, he had already arrived, sitting on the steps with his head down playing games. He always waited for me in advance, no matter how long he waited, he wouldn’t be anxious. I couldn’t help wondering, are you like this when waiting for her too? “Liam, sorry, I came down late.” Seeing him, I put on a smile to pull his hand, sticking to his shoulder and looking up at him. Seeing me, he raised his eyebrows, “Why is baby so beautiful today?” In the past, he would hold my hand, but today he put his arm around my waist, buried his head in my hair and shook it, “You smell so good.” Saying this, he leaned in to kiss me. Looking at that mouth, I felt nauseous inside, so I reached out to cover him, pinching my voice and asking coquettishly, “Are you angry that I made you wait?” In the past, I would directly grab his hand and walk forward carelessly, rarely asking him warmly and coquettishly. He was a little puzzled, but enjoyed it very much, “No, how could I be angry with my beautiful baby.” We walked hand in hand, “Do you have a night class later?” “Yes.” “Then I’ll accompany you?” I’m someone who is lazy even attending my own classes, so I never mentioned accompanying him to class, and would even refuse if he proposed. “Anyway, we are in the same school, we can meet anytime, not missing this moment.” I used to say this. He was silent for a while after listening, then said calmly, “Forget it, the night class is small, bringing you along is a bit conspicuous.” Oh, something fishy, but it doesn’t matter. “Okay, then I’ll pick you up after evening self-study.” The hand on my waist tightened secretly, then gently let go, “What’s wrong today? You’re acting a bit strange, baby.” I grinned, climbing up his arm and clinging, “My mom said she wants to buy me a house, asking what size you like, and whether to add your name.” Baby, sister has plenty of money. Even if you don’t care about old feelings, I don’t believe you don’t like money. Sure enough, he stammered, “Ah, is that so, then I’ll see if I have anything to do during evening self-study later, if not I’ll call you over okay?” Tsk tsk tsk, looks like it’s just so-so. “It’s okay, since you are busy, forget it, another day.” 4 I registered a new fake Weibo account, found some fake daily selfies, posted a few daily updates, actively followed that girl, and made my presence known in her comments. After a few times, she noticed me, “Hello, do we know each other?” “Hello senior, I saw the photos you took before one day and thought you look so good, wanted to get to know you.” After all, she is a young girl, direct praise is easiest to make one elated. Because I supported everything and often flattered her, finally one day I added her WeChat. Our netizen relationship was officially established. After I mailed her a small gift once, she officially recognized me and treated me as a good friend. On the other hand, I spared no effort to coax Liam, and gradually discovered some things I hadn’t noticed before. This day I carried a lot of snacks and went directly to the place where their photography club held activities. They often organized activities, portrait exchange, ID photo exchange, PS course teaching. Today was a mutual free activity, anyone who wanted to take photos could come as a model and get three free refined photos. As soon as I pushed the door open, it was a simple studio, men and women talking and laughing. Seeing me, most people inside looked confused, only Liam was stunned with some surprise, then came over slightly guiltily, “Why are you here?” I looked at him and smiled, then bypassed him and walked straight in, “Hello everyone, I am your President Liam’s girlfriend, entrusted by him to comfort everyone, you’ve worked hard.” Several boys reacted first, hurriedly welcomed me, shouting sister-in-law in unison. The girls didn’t know why, but were also happy to have free snacks. Only a few scattered people whispered to each other, looking at me with dodging eyes, reluctantly stood up to give me a smile. Among them was that girl. When I came in, she was wearing a suspender gauze dress laughing and playing with Liam. What was her name again? Bella, yes, Bella Kong. I smiled and walked in, holding the bag, handed a popsicle, “Bella has worked hard as a big model, so beautiful, the club’s recruitment, thanks to our Bella.” The expressions of the two boys next to her were awkward, busy winking at Liam. But Bella didn’t change her expression, picked up her phone to send a message, smiling still very sweet, looking at me frankly, “Thank you senior, what are you saying, it’s all President Liam’s credit, I didn’t do anything.” Liam hurried over to pull me, smiling awkwardly and nodding to everyone, “This is Sarah Xiang, Senior Sarah, these snacks were bought for you by the senior.” Even though it was obvious, he didn’t mention a word that I was his girlfriend. He pulled me to sit aside, half squatting in front of me, “Sarah, wait for me here, there are many people coming for the activity today, I may not be able to attend to you, if you are in a hurry, go back first, I’ll find you for dinner tonight.” I nodded, watching him trot back, re-greeting Bella and others to stand up and start shooting. There were dozens of people in the photography group, a dozen boys, fewer girls, and mostly came as models. But Bella’s photographer was always Liam. He held up the camera, “Bella, look here, light brighter, hey, very good, beautiful smile.” I originally came with the mentality of embarrassing them, fully armed, fully psychologically constructed and prepared, I thought I would be the one showing off. But I felt like I was the one embarrassed. Bella was laughing, carrying her skirt hem, standing under the spotlight, the reflector hitting her face, shining like an angel. Liam bent over, staring at the lens, uncontrollable smile on his face. The look in his eyes at the lens was not only appreciation but also thick affection. He wasn’t looking at the work, he was looking at her. Although there was almost no dialogue or physical contact between them. But I was still so sour that I couldn’t speak, nails digging deep into my palms, painful to numbness. Because the person in front of that lens used to be me. The person looked at by that gaze countless times used to be me, and only me. Because I was loved, I know what he looks like when he loves someone else. I took a deep breath, stood up ready to say hello and leave. At this time, a second person came in, surprisingly Bella’s boyfriend. The two looked at each other, waved hello, and the boy found a corner to sit down, right next to me. I sat down again, looked at him and smiled, “What a coincidence.” He was stunned for a moment, looked at me for a few seconds, then revealed a smile, “It’s you, what a coincidence.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389105”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel