Category: English

Five years on the run, and they finally caught me. The man who cuffed me was my high school boyfriend. The one who’d traded his trust fund for a badge and a gun, all in the name of justice. Across the sterile interrogation table, Ethan Hayes was a mask of professional indifference. “Five years ago,” he began, his voice flat, “did you kill Mark Peterson?” “Yes.” “And what was he to you?” “He was my father.” For the first time, his eyes lifted to meet mine. They were deep, dark pools of something I couldn’t name. “So, when you broke up with me… when you fought tooth and nail to push me away. Was it because of this?” I held his gaze, letting him see the placid surface of my calm. “No,” I said. “I just got tired of you. I’ve always hated perfect, privileged boys born with a silver spoon in their mouths.” 1 When the police found me, I was sitting on a bluff, just staring into space. Below me was a small, unmarked mound of earth. My mother’s resting place. Ethan led the charge, his team fanning out around him, weapons raised. I turned, and our eyes locked across the clearing. His were filled with ice. These were the same eyes that had once pulled me from the brink. The ones that found me when I was trapped in a hell of my father’s making, with a mother too broken to help, convinced the only way out was to end it all. He had been my rescue. Now, all I saw in them was revulsion. In the back of the cruiser, Ethan was silent, his eyes closed. The tension was so thick the other officers in the front seat kept exchanging glances in the rearview mirror. I heard one of them whisper, “What’s with Detective Hayes?” “Probably exhausted. He’s been obsessed with closing this five-year fugitive case.” “Nah, I don’t think it’s that. Heard he met his future mother-in-law yesterday. Probably just tired out from all the wedding stuff.” “He’s getting married soon, right?” “Yeah, I think so. Couple of months, maybe.” “I saw his fiancée once. She’s gorgeous. A concert pianist or something. Seriously impressive.” “Man, Hayes has it all. Hard worker, family’s loaded, and his girl is a knockout. And here we are, a couple of schmucks.” I stared at the back of his head, the familiar broad set of his shoulders framed by the metal grate. From now on, there was an ocean between us, a world of difference. There would never be an ‘us’ again. At the station, I was processed and put in a holding cell. A female officer took everything from my pockets. When she picked up my phone, I asked, “Excuse me, is there any way I can keep that? The pictures on it… they’re important to me.” She gave me a once-over. “It’s evidence. It’ll be logged and stored.” So I’d never get it back. A shame. It held the last fifty pictures of my life. But it didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered anymore. I killed my own father. I wasn’t expecting to walk out of here alive. The next day, they led me to the interrogation room. Ethan was there with another detective, a man named Miller. I recognized him. He’d come to our house five years ago, after my mother died, to ask some questions. “Sadie Peterson,” Detective Miller said gently. “Do you remember me?” Of course, I remembered. Five years ago, on a night ripped apart by thunder and lightning, I lost the only person who had ever truly loved me. The next day, he was the one who wouldn’t accept the official story. He knelt down, ignoring my father’s scowl, and asked me again and again. “Hey kiddo, tell me the truth. Was your mom’s death really an accident?” I’d glanced at my father’s stony face beside me. And I nodded. Now, here he was again, just as persistent. “Sadie, did you kill your father and dispose of the body?” I looked him straight in the eye. “Yes. I killed Mark Peterson.” My fingerprints were on his clothes. The bag I’d used to dump the remains still had the knife inside. I’d used so much force the tip of the blade had bent. I saw Ethan’s fingers tighten around his pen, tapping it against his notepad. Thump. Thump. Thump. An old tell. He was agitated. Detective Miller pressed on. “Five years ago, you were the valedictorian at Northwood High. Top of your class. A full ride to Stanford was practically a sure thing.” He looked down at his file. “Your teachers… they all said the same thing. Quiet, gentle, kind. A model student. Why would a girl like that murder her own father?” I lowered my head, my voice barely a whisper. “Because I hated him.” 2 My father was the worst kind of scum on this earth. To my mother and me, he was a demon. Five years ago, I really thought I could escape the mud. That I could have a good life. Teachers were kind, my classmates were friendly, and then… I met Ethan. He was the new transfer student who seemed to have a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, but underneath it all, he was impossibly soft-hearted. And he gave me everything he had. When I collapsed from hunger while working one of my three part-time jobs, Ethan’s eyes would get red and he’d say, “Sadie, I have money. Please, just let me help you. I hate seeing you run yourself into the ground like this.” On my birthday, he took me to his home—a place that looked like something out of a magazine—and whispered, “Baby, one day, this will be our home.” He pointed to his mother, a woman of impossible, quiet grace. “Sadie, this is my mom. One day, she’ll be your mom, too.” I looked at her kind, smiling face. I never could have imagined the complex, dark emotions swimming behind those serene eyes. I learned, eventually. And I paid a terrible price for that knowledge. Under Detective Miller’s questioning, I laid it all bare. The years of abuse, the way Mark had terrorized my mother and me. My voice broke as I got to the end. “That day… he’d been drinking. He started getting angry, and he raised his hand to hit me.” “My mom was gone. It was just him and me in the house. I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill me. In the panic… I just… I grabbed a knife and I stabbed him.” “Then, I panicked again. I was terrified someone would find out and I wouldn’t be able to go to college. It was like something out of a movie… I dismembered him, and I threw the bags under the old bridge.” I started to tremble, the fear a living thing clawing its way up my throat. “I… I didn’t mean to. I swear I didn’t mean to… I was just so scared…” Tears streamed down my face. Neither of them said a word. After Miller left, Ethan stayed behind. He asked me one last time. “Sadie. I’m only going to ask you this once more. Five years ago, was it really an accident?” “Yes.” “And you disposed of the body by yourself?” “Yes.” “And when you broke up with me… was it because of this?” His gaze was sharp, trying to bore a hole straight through me. I met it without flinching. “No,” I said, my voice steady. “I just got sick of you. I’ve always hated perfect, privileged boys born with a silver spoon in their mouths.” 3 I really did hate him. Ethan transferred to our school in the fall of our senior year. In a town like ours, a handsome guy pulling up in a Maserati was a major event. He was cocky and charming, and half the girls in school were instantly in love with him. He was popular with everyone in our class. Everyone except me. We barely spoke. It was simple, really. I was too busy. Between the endless homework and studying, every spare second was spent either stocking shelves at the grocery store or clearing trays in the cafeteria. One afternoon, I was bent over a table in the cafeteria when Ethan suddenly walked up behind me. He slipped off his own jacket, a ridiculously expensive-looking thing, and tied it around my waist. “Hey… uh, Sadie,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning a little red. “I think… you know. Your period started.” He practically ran away. My own face flushed hot. It was late this month; I hadn’t even noticed. But I’d already given my mom the cash from my last shift. Buying a box of pads meant skipping dinner. I hesitated, starting to walk toward the convenience store anyway. Just then, Ethan came jogging back, a box of Always in his hand. “The lady at the store said this is what most girls use,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Figured it might be awkward for you right now, so… you should probably go take care of that.” He was tall, over six feet, with dark brows and a smile so earnest it could stop your heart. I heard mine skip a beat. I bit my lip and accepted his kindness. Later, when I found out that jacket cost more than my family made in three months, a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I found him on the basketball court after I’d carefully hand-washed and dried it. He was drenched in sweat, laughing with his friends. He saw me and jogged over. “Hey, Sadie. What’s up?” I carefully held out the jacket. “Here. It’s yours.” “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s just a jacket.” “No, it’s… it’s too expensive.” “Alright, well, thanks for washing it.” He grinned, scratching the back of his neck. “But seriously, how are you so busy all the time? I see you doing homework late after everyone’s left, and you’re here studying before the sun’s even up. You’re like a machine.” How could I explain to this boy, born into a world of casual luxury, that college wasn’t just an option for me? It was the only escape route I had. He didn’t seem to need an answer, though. After that brief intersection, our worlds drifted apart again. But I knew something had shifted inside me. My heart had developed a new, unsteady rhythm. I started watching him from a distance. I’d see him joking with people, listen to him talk about LeBron and his favorite food and how much he admired Lincoln. I learned he was a huge gamer, a legend online with hundreds of thousands of followers on Twitch. I learned that the SATs were just a formality for him; he already had a spot waiting at a prestigious university overseas, after which he’d slide right into an executive track at his family’s corporation. I knew his future was a brilliant, blazing star, the kind I could spend my entire life chasing and never even get close to. Still, a secret little thought took root in my mind: if I worked hard enough, if I got into Stanford, if I chose a good major… maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny chance that one day I could stand beside him and see the world from the same height. I never imagined he might feel the same way about me. It happened on a spring weekend. I was working part-time at the indoor sports complex. Ethan was there playing basketball and twisted his ankle. His friends wanted to take him to the hospital, but he waved them off. I brought the first-aid kit and knelt in front of him, gently probing his ankle. His skin was tan and warm. He hissed softly as my fingers pressed down. My heart jumped. I’d hurt him. “Does that hurt?” I asked, looking up quickly. Ethan was just staring at me, a dazed look on his face. It took him a second to answer. “No. No, it’s fine.” His breathing was heavier, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I didn’t think anything of it, just focused on carefully wrapping his ankle. From that day on, Ethan was everywhere. He’d show up during my shifts, sit with me in the library while I studied. It became so frequent that even my classmates started to notice. Then, on a day when the wildflowers were blooming all over the hillsides, he told me he was in love with me. We were so young then. We thought love could conquer anything. Until the day I murdered my father. It was two days after graduation. After I’d cleaned up the last of the mess, I went to break up with him. He was so proud, so full of life, but he got on his knees and begged me not to go. His handsome face was streaked with tears. Those eyes… they looked so much like his mother’s. And I hated him for it. I hated him so much. Why did he have to bring a sliver of light into my pitch-black world, only to have it all be a lie? Ethan had no idea what his mother had done. He just kept asking me why. Why was I leaving him? I looked down at him, my voice dripping with ice. “Because you’re not useful to me anymore, obviously.” “My family’s poor. I can barely afford to eat. I was so sick of working all the time.” “Then you showed up. The perfect sucker. Paying for my meals, buying me things… you made my life so much easier.” “Now graduation is over. You’re going overseas. You have no more value to me.” Panic flared in his eyes, his whole body trembling. “Sadie, if that’s the reason, I don’t have to go. I can stay…” A luxury car pulled up beside us. The tinted window slid down, and there was his mother, Eleanor Hayes, watching us. Her eyes were devoid of warmth, but we both knew what this was about. I looked back at Ethan, my expression cold and final. “Don’t bother. You’re terrible in bed anyway. You disgust me.” “Stop following me around, Ethan. We’re not from the same world. You and I both know that.” “Go be the little prince your mommy wants you to be. And stay the hell away from me.” Years passed. The next time we saw each other, we were a cop and a criminal. 4 They put me in the deepest part of the detention center. Inmates like me, high-risk, were kept in isolation. The days without seeing Ethan were a blur. I’d lean against the cold concrete wall and just… drift. My mind was a slideshow of two images. The brilliant, dazzling smile of an eighteen-year-old boy. And the bright, clear laughter of a little girl. She was so sweet, running through a field of grass, her voice calling out to me. Mommy, Mommy! She’d asked me once, Mommy, do people turn into stars when they die? She’d said, Mommy, I want to stay with you forever. I don’t want to be sick anymore. She’d cried, Mommy, the shots hurt so much. When will my heart get better? She’d whispered, Mommy, I don’t want to die. I traced the old, faded scar on my wrist. Murder and desecration of a corpse. That had to be a death sentence, right? I hoped my sweet girl was walking slowly on the other side. The investigation took longer than I expected. A week went by and no one came to see me. Then one evening, a female guard, the one from my intake, brought me a box of tampons. “Do you know Detective Hayes?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “He asked me to buy these for you. I was surprised.” I shook my head. “We’re not close. He’s probably just a kind person.” “I don’t think so. I’ve been at this precinct since he transferred in. I’ve never seen him do something like this for an inmate.” She paused, looking at me more closely. “You know, Sadie, I remember you. After you graduated, your score… 1550 on the SATs… you were in the newspaper. A hometown hero.” “Everyone said you were a shoo-in for the Ivy League, a real credit to Northwood. No one can believe you’d do something like this.” She lowered her voice. “We looked into your dad. He was a known lowlife, a real piece of work. If there’s something more to this story, you have to tell Detective Miller. It could help you at sentencing.” I shook my head again. “There’s no need. We’re all equal before the law. I’ll accept whatever punishment I deserve.” A few days later, Detective Miller brought some papers for me to sign. On an impulse I couldn’t explain, I asked a question. “That other detective… why isn’t he here?” Miller glanced up at me. “Detective Hayes had a family matter to attend to. He’s on leave.” The tip of my pen paused on the paper, a dark blot of ink spreading. My mind flashed back to the conversation I’d overheard in the cruiser. He’s getting married soon. The signature was a mess. My hand was shaking too much. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” “It’s fine,” Miller said. “It’s still valid.” A few more days, and then the trial. It was for the best. His life had nothing to do with mine anymore. I never expected to see Ethan’s mother again. She’d made a special request to visit me. I was stunned when they told me. Five years hadn’t changed her. Eleanor Hayes was still the very picture of untouchable elegance. But maybe it was just me, because I thought I saw a new, sinister darkness lurking beneath the surface. When she looked at me through the glass, her eyes were filled with pure hatred. “Sadie. It’s been five years. Why didn’t you just die out there?” “It’s all your fault. Because of you, Ethan refused to go to college abroad. Because of you, his father gave up on him and started grooming that bastard son of his from another woman.” “You ruined our perfect lives. You’re a curse, a black hole. You should be in hell.” Her voice dropped to a venomous hiss. “Stop haunting him. Leave my son alone. I’m begging you. Go die, rot in jail, I don’t care. Just get as far away from him as you possibly can.” I met those eyes, so eerily similar to Ethan’s, and a bitter laugh wanted to bubble up inside me. “Eleanor,” I said softly. “You’re the one who destroyed your own son.” “You remember what you said to Mark Peterson, don’t you? I never told Ethan because I didn’t want to break his heart.” “I killed Mark. There’s a good chance I’ll get the death penalty for it. So you should probably stop visiting me. You wouldn’t want me to drag you down to hell with me, would you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384444”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My sister-in-law was in the throes of a high-risk delivery, and as the hospital’s star obstetrician, I was the one they called to save her. My husband, Chad, was driving me, but halfway there, he took a different exit. He was taking me to deliver his childhood friend’s dog. “You’re an OB-GYN, you know what you’re doing,” he insisted. “Mimi is family to Susan. You have to save her!” I was losing my mind. “This is a life-or-death situation for a human being! Are you insane?” He just scoffed. “Mimi is a six-figure champion show dog. Do you really think some nobody at the hospital is more important?” In the end, the mother died in childbirth. We lost them both. When word got out that the patient’s family was raising hell at the hospital, Chad finally seemed to realize the gravity of what he’d done. He shielded his precious Susan and pushed me forward. “You’re the doctor,” he said. “This was your responsibility. You’re the one who needs to go beg for their forgiveness.” It wasn’t until we reached the family waiting area and he saw his own parents and his brother-in-law standing there that the color drained from his face. 1 I am the star obstetrician at City General Hospital. Today was a rare day off, but my morning was shattered by a frantic call from my department. “Dr. Hayes, we’ve got a bad one. A patient with a breech presentation took a fall, she’s in premature labor. It’s critical. We need you now!” A jolt went through me. I threw on my clothes and rushed to the garage, only then remembering my car was in the shop for the day. Just as I was about to call a cab, Chad pulled up, rolling down the window. “Heading to the hospital? I’ll give you a ride.” I didn’t waste a second, hopping into the passenger seat. We were halfway there, my phone buzzing with five missed messages from my assistant telling me the patient was already in the OR, when I urged Chad to drive faster. Just then, his phone rang. The car’s Bluetooth system answered automatically, and the tear-choked voice of his childhood friend, Susan, filled the small space. “Chad, you have to help me!” “It’s Mimi! She’s giving birth, and there’s blood everywhere! I don’t know what to do, please, you have to come help me!” Mimi was Susan’s pampered little dog. Chad’s voice immediately softened. “Hey, hey, don’t panic. It’s okay. I’m on my way.” I frowned, a familiar knot of irritation tightening in my stomach. Ever since Chad and I had gotten married, Susan had been a constant presence, a third wheel with zero sense of boundaries. And Chad, completely oblivious, catered to her every whim. Every time I got upset about it, he’d feed me the same line: “She’s like a sister to me.” His parents, who’d watched her grow up, always told me to be more understanding, which only made me feel petty and jealous. I couldn’t help but cut in. “Chad, you need to take me to the hospital first.” Susan fell silent for a moment when she heard my voice. Then, an idea seemed to strike her. “Oh, right! Evelyn, you’re an obstetrician! You must know how to deliver puppies, right?” Her voice broke into a sob. “Please, Evelyn, come with Chad. You have to save my Mimi!” Chad glanced at me, his eyes silently pleading for my agreement. “Absolutely not,” I said, my voice sharp. “There is a woman at the hospital who will die without my help. Your dog can go to a veterinary hospital.” “Chad, this is a matter of life and death. Don’t be an idiot.” 2 On the other end of the line, Susan went strangely quiet for a two-count, then burst into a full-blown wail. “I know you’re some high-and-mighty star doctor, Evelyn,” she said, her tone pitiful but laced with an undeniable arrogance. “But Mimi is my family. To me, her life is more important than anyone else’s!” Before hanging up, she shrieked at Chad, “If anything happens to Mimi, I’ll kill myself!” Chad panicked. He slammed on the brakes, pulling over to the side of the road. He frantically tried to call her back, but she rejected it every time, finally turning her phone off. He turned to me, his eyes blazing with accusation. “Evelyn, you know how much Mimi means to her. Why would you deliberately provoke her like that?” “If she does something stupid, I swear to God, I will never forgive you!” I was used to him taking her side, but the words still felt like a punch to the gut. Time was wasting. I was in no mood for this pointless argument. My face hardened. “Are you driving me or not? If not, I’m getting out.” “If you’re so worried about Susan, then go to her.” Seeing my fury, a flicker of panic crossed his face. For a second, I thought he understood. But as I reached for the door handle, he gritted his teeth and hit the central lock, trapping me inside. “Chad, what are you doing?” My eyes widened in disbelief as he stomped on the gas, cranked the steering wheel, and made a sharp U-turn, speeding in the opposite direction of the hospital. “I’m sorry, Eve, but I can’t risk it.” “Susan’s right. You’re an OB-GYN, you have experience. We’ll go to her place first, you’ll help Mimi deliver, and then I’ll take you to the hospital.” The blood rushed to my head. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you out of your mind, Chad?” I screamed. “I’m a doctor for humans, not a veterinarian!” “There is a woman dying in the hospital, and you want me to go deliver your friend’s puppies? Stop the car! Let me out!” I rattled the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. Chad swerved sharply, and my head slammed against the window, my vision spotting with black. He heard my cry of pain but pretended not to notice, his voice dripping with condescension. “When are you going to get off your high horse, Evelyn? Is a dog’s life really worth less than a person’s? Besides, Mimi is a champion show dog, worth six figures. You think some nobody dying in a hospital bed is more important than that?” 3 How could he say something so callous, so utterly dismissive of human life? I was stunned into silence, unable to process his words. My phone rang, snapping me back to reality. It was my assistant. “Dr. Hayes, where are you? The patient’s vitals are dropping. You’re the only one who’s handled a case like this before, you have to hurry…” Before she could finish, the phone was snatched from her hand. A woman’s panicked, sobbing voice came through the speaker. It was my mother-in-law. “Evelyn, where are you?” “It’s your sister-in-law in the operating room! It’s Sarah! She fell this morning and went into labor! The doctors say you’re the only one with a real chance of saving her. How much longer will you be?” Sarah? It hit me like a ton of bricks. The patient waiting for me, the life hanging in the balance, was my sister-in-law. Chad’s own sister. Her pregnancy had been difficult from the start. A fall, premature labor… this was the worst-case scenario. A cold sweat broke out on my palms. Before I could say a word, Chad, stopped at a red light, lunged across the console, ripped the phone from my hand, ended the call, and shut it off without a second thought. “Chad, give me back my phone!” I shrieked. “Don’t you understand? That’s your sister in there! She’s in critical condition!” A flicker of fear crossed his face, but he quickly suppressed it, his expression hardening. “I can’t believe how low you’ll sink, Evelyn. You’d even curse my own sister just to get me to take you to the hospital?” “Her due date is a month away! She has a full-time nurse at home. You couldn’t even come up with a believable lie.” I was on the verge of a breakdown. “That was your mother on the phone! If you don’t believe me, call her back right now and ask her yourself!” He sneered and pulled out his own phone. A sliver of hope rose in me. If he just called his mom, he would know. But then, he glanced at me, and with a look of grim determination, he turned his own phone off, too. He locked both of them in the glove compartment. “I know how proud Mom is that you’re a doctor at City General. She’d lie for you in a heartbeat to protect your precious career.” “But not this time, Evelyn. I’m not taking you to the hospital until I know Mimi is safe.” 4 He was a madman. A hot knot of fury tightened in my chest. I wanted to crack his skull open and see if there was anything inside but water. He saw my expression in the rearview mirror and tried to soften his tone. “Look, honey, don’t worry so much. It’s a big hospital with plenty of doctors. They can manage without you for a little while. Your colleagues might flatter you, but you can’t really believe the whole department would fall apart without you, can you?” His mind was made up. Nothing I said would change it. And with every passing minute we drove further from the hospital, the danger to Sarah and her baby grew. The doors were locked. I couldn’t jump out. There was nothing in the car I could use to break a window. My eyes scanned the interior, and my decision was made. I had to grab the steering wheel. I had to force him to stop. At the next red light, I lunged across the seat and yanked the wheel. Chad, caught by surprise, fought back. In the struggle, his foot slipped, slamming down on the accelerator instead of the brake. The car shot forward, tires screaming as it skidded across the intersection. Chad’s face went white with terror. “Evelyn, let go! Are you trying to get us killed?” “Either you pull over right now and let me out,” I snarled, “or we both die here!” “You’re a psycho!” he screamed back. Seeing the absolute resolve in my eyes, he finally broke. “Okay! Okay! Just let go! I’ll pull over!” I released my grip, my hands trembling, slick with cold sweat. The car began to slow, veering toward the shoulder. I hadn’t even had time to breathe a sigh of relief when I saw it—a small delivery truck, careening out of control, heading straight for us. There was no time to react. In that split second, Chad yanked the wheel, instinctively shielding his side of the car and leaving me to face the full force of the collision. My world exploded in a white-hot flash of disbelief and pain. Agony ripped through my body. My vision blurred with red. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was Chad, his face a mask of tears, scrambling toward me. 5 I woke up in a hospital bed. A good Samaritan had called an ambulance after the crash. I was the one who had taken the brunt of it. Multiple fractures in my arm and leg, a concussion from where my head hit the dashboard. But I was alive. Chad, who had so instinctively protected himself, had escaped with only minor scrapes. I opened my eyes to find him sitting by my bedside, his face etched with anxiety and regret. When he saw I was awake, his eyes lit up. “Honey, you’re awake! How do you feel? Does anything hurt?” My voice was a raw croak. “What time is it?” His face tensed. “You… you were out for four hours. It’s afternoon now.” A roar filled my ears. I tried to sit up, but a wave of pain forced me back down. “And the… the patient?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Did they… did they make it? The mother and the baby?” Chad looked completely baffled. “I… I don’t know.” “But,” he said, his tone shifting, becoming accusatory, “Susan called me before. She said Mimi didn’t make it. The mother died, and none of the puppies survived.” He shot me a look of pure hatred. “Susan is devastated. She said she’s coming here to have a word with you.” “Evelyn, this is your fault. I’ll try to smooth things over, because you’re my wife, but if Susan demands some kind of compensation, you’d better just accept it. You owe her that much.” He had barely finished his sentence when the door to my room was kicked open. Susan stormed in, her face contorted with rage, and slapped me hard across the face. “This is all your fault, Evelyn!” she shrieked, her eyes wild with hate. “Chad told me everything! If you hadn’t thrown a fit and grabbed the steering wheel, we would have gotten to my house in time! My Mimi wouldn’t be dead!” “You murdered her! I want you to pay with your life!” With the concussion and my injuries, I was helpless. As despair washed over me, I saw Chad, the man who had just promised to help me, quietly get up and close the door, sealing me in with her, letting her scream and hit me as I lay broken in the hospital bed. A cold wave of desolation washed over me. I finally understood the warning my mother had given me on my wedding day. “Marrying the wrong person will destroy you.” 6 My assistant, hearing I was awake, rushed into the room and stopped dead, seeing me being attacked. Enraged, she shoved Susan back. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing, attacking Dr. Hayes in the hospital? I’m calling security!” Chad, who had been watching impassively, finally moved. He stepped in front of Susan, shielding her. “Your Dr. Hayes, through her own negligence, caused this young lady to lose a beloved member of her family,” he said with a sneer. “She made a mistake. A little slap is nothing. Frankly, if Susan wanted her life in return, as her husband, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” My assistant, not knowing the “family member” in question was a dog, just stared in stunned silence. I had no energy for these two lunatics. “The surgery this morning,” I asked my assistant, my voice urgent. “The patient, the baby… are they safe?” Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “Dr. Hayes… we… we lost them.” “We lost them both. Mother and child.” My heart seized. Chad and Susan both froze, a flicker of guilt finally flashing across their faces as they realized the magnitude of their actions. My assistant broke down completely. “Where were you this morning? Your phone was off, and then you were brought into the ER, covered in blood. The family thinks it’s your fault, that you didn’t get here in time. They’re down in the lobby, causing a scene.” She hiccupped through a sob. “They said… they said they’re coming for you. That as soon as you woke up, you had to get out there and face them.” “Dr. Hayes, what are we going to do?” I took a steadying breath, trying to calm her. “Don’t worry. Go back to the office for now. There were… extenuating circumstances. I’ll explain everything to the family.” “Really?” she asked, unconvinced. “They were so angry. They know you’re in this room. They’ll be up here any minute.” After I finally managed to coax her out of the room, I turned to Chad and Susan. “You two caused this. You’re coming with me to explain what happened.” Susan shrank behind Chad. “Why… why should we? This is your mess! It has nothing to do with me! I didn’t stop you from going to the hospital!” Chad’s eyes darted between me and Susan. From the hallway, we could hear the sound of angry, approaching footsteps. He made his choice. He roughly hauled me out of the bed and shoved me into a wheelchair. Ignoring my struggles, he pushed me toward the door. “Susan’s right. This is all your fault. It has nothing to do with us.” “You’re the doctor. You’re the one who should be on her knees, begging for forgiveness!” With that, he yanked open the door. Standing on the other side, their faces a mixture of grief and fury, were the patient’s family. Chad looked up and froze. “Dad? Mom? David? What are you guys doing here?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384460”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After a month of overwork, I decided to take a break and escape to our family’s resort, Serenity Peak. The moment I stepped into the lobby, my eyes locked onto the giant screen looping a promotional video. There was my husband, Ben, kissing a woman with a killer body in a steamy private pool. The tagline read: 【Love her? Bring her for a private spa experience.】 My blood ran cold. I went straight to the front desk, where an innocent-looking girl greeted me. “Hi, when was this video filmed? Are they professional models?” She beamed, envious. “We shot it just days ago! That’s one of our employees and her boyfriend. Aren’t they perfect?” I kept my tone light. “Could you ask her to come? I’d love to compliment her—she’s so photogenic.” Unsuspecting, she made the call. “Isabelle! A guest wants to see you—she’s a fan!” Soon, a woman in a supervisor’s uniform appeared. “How can I help you?” 1 Her smile was professional and sweet, but the instant she saw my face, it froze on her lips and morphed into a flash of panic. She quickly looked down, her fingers clattering aimlessly on the keyboard. “How… how can I help you?” A slow smile spread across my face. “I’d like to book your best private suite.” The woman, Isabelle, was tall and curvy, radiating a wild, untamed allure. I suddenly remembered how Ben used to pinch my cheeks and tell me I was too thin, that there was nothing to hold onto. I’d thought he was being caring. Now I realized he just preferred more… substance. She held out a key card. I didn’t take it. Instead, I smiled. “Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” Another receptionist nearby recognized me and chimed in cheerfully. “Grace! It’s been too long. This is our new front desk supervisor, Isabelle. She used to be a fitness instructor. Ben actually recommended her for the job.” She then turned to Isabelle. “Isabelle, this is Ben’s wife. You should call her Grace.” Isabelle’s eyes dropped even lower, her voice barely a whisper. “Hello, G-Grace.” I almost laughed out loud. The sultry vixen from the video, the one who looked like she wanted to permanently attach herself to my husband’s body, was suddenly meek as a mouse? Pathetic. I finally took the key card she’d been holding out and glanced at the room number, my brow furrowing. “This isn’t your best suite, is it?” The color drained from her face. She bit her lip, struggling for words, before finally forcing out an explanation. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vance… he prefers the south-facing rooms. For the sunlight. I just… did it out of habit.” A cold, humorless laugh echoed in my mind. Was she trying to show me that she knew my husband’s preferences better than I did? How pathetically low-class. I was one of the original investors in this resort. I remembered Ben holding my hand, telling me gently that he didn’t like me coming to places like this alone, that he would always bring me himself if I needed to unwind. Now I knew why. He just didn’t want me to crash his party. My gaze swept over Isabelle’s flustered face, then moved down, stopping at her slender wrist. “That’s a unique watch.” Isabelle forced a dry laugh. “Oh, this? It’s just something I wear for fun.” I smiled without a word. The watch was a limited-edition Vacheron Constantin, a gift from my father to Ben when they first met. There were only three in the world. Because of its sentimental value, Ben kept it locked in the safe in his study. And here it was, on the wrist of a stranger. Just then, a notification from Ben popped up on my phone. “Grace, you’re at the resort?” I raised an eyebrow. As I looked up, I saw Isabelle hastily shoving her own phone back into her pocket. I scoffed internally and typed out a reply. “Yes, just came to relax. Should I save a room for you?” My tone must have sounded normal, because I could practically feel his relief through the screen. A voice message came back instantly. “No need, honey. You just have a good time. Love you.” I stared at the transcribed words, “Love you,” and my stomach churned. When I looked back at Isabelle, she had composed herself and was attempting to make small talk, as if nothing had happened. What an idiot. I ignored her, turned, and walked out of the lobby, dialing my father’s assistant. My dad’s company, at my urging, had just signed a massive contract with Ben’s firm two days ago. “Mr. Davis, please halt the execution of that contract. And find me the best divorce attorney you can.” “Yes, a divorce. Ben… he’s filthy.” 2 The first thing I did when I got home was march straight to the study. As expected, the safe was missing several items. This room was where we kept valuable antiques and art my father had gifted us, along with important documents. After marrying Ben, I’d been so wrapped up in our life together that I hadn’t paid much attention to material things. Ben managed everything here. At first glance, nothing seemed amiss. But on closer inspection, I realized everything that held true personal meaning to me was gone. My face grim, I pulled up the feed from the hidden security camera. And I saw it. In the very place I considered my private sanctuary, a disgusting drama had been unfolding. May 7th: Their first time in my study. Isabelle was sitting on Ben’s lap at his desk, laughing and flirting. August 29th: He canceled our anniversary trip, a trip we’d planned for months, only to spend the entire night video-chatting with her right here, whispering obscenities. October 5th: I was staying at my parents’ house. He brought her home. They’d made love on top of my priceless art collection. A violent wave of nausea hit me, and I ran to the bathroom, vomiting until I was dizzy. The recording kept playing. The next scene showed Ben opening the safe. He took out the Vacheron Constantin watch, then his eyes landed on a blue folder. My heart sank. A terrible premonition seized me. That was the deed to a plot of land my grandfather left me. It was my wedding gift from him, given on his deathbed. On the screen, I watched Ben hand it directly to Isabelle. I stumbled back to the safe and frantically sorted through the remaining papers. There was a duplicate of the deed, but this one lacked the official seal. A forgery. My complete and utter trust in him meant I’d never once thought to check. I collapsed to the floor, my body cold as I listened to Ben’s tender promise on the recording. “Don’t worry. Even if I can’t make it official right now, I’ll never let you suffer.” Isabelle put on a show of refusing. “Ben, this is too much, I can’t accept—” Then, a figure I never expected appeared in the doorway. “Oh, just take it, Isabelle! I’m the one who sent my cousin away on that stupid hike, just so Ben would have a chance to give you this surprise!” my own cousin, Zoe, chirped. “I played such a big part in this. You’d better save me a seat at the head table at your wedding!” Seeing Zoe there, my own blood, I felt the world tilt on its axis. I remembered that day clearly. Zoe had begged me, tears in her eyes, to go with her to a temple on the west side of town. I’d spent half a day climbing a mountain with her, and my legs had ached for a week. I trembled with rage. It wasn’t just my husband. My own family had conspired to betray me. In the video, Ben pulled Isabelle into his arms, his eyes full of adoration. “What’s mine is yours. Why be so formal with me?” Giving away the assets my grandfather left for me to his little mistress, and making it sound so noble. The irony was so immense it threatened to swallow me whole. In that moment, I wanted to find them and tear their faces off. Just then, a friend request popped up on my phone. The person sent an image, then quickly retracted it. But I’d already seen it. It was a photo of Isabelle, grinning, holding up the blue folder and flashing a peace sign. The caption read: “New home, secured!” The background was a landmark right next to that plot of land. Every last shred of my composure shattered. I thought of my grandfather on his deathbed, his hand trembling as he pressed that folder into mine. I had been sobbing, telling him I didn’t want anything, I only wanted him. But Ben had taken the folder for me, holding me tight as he made a solemn promise. “Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’ll take care of Grace. I’ll never let her suffer.” Grandpa had given one last, content smile, and then he was gone. I had cried until I passed out in the cold hospital hallway. It was Ben who held me, comforting me over and over. “It’s okay, Grace. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” After he died, I was lost in grief, unable to touch anything that reminded me of him. Ben handled everything—the funeral, my grandfather’s belongings. My father had seen it all and told me Ben was a good man, someone I could truly depend on. Who could have known that this man our entire family trusted had only ever been after our money? The warning signs were there. The strange perfume on his clothes, the trendy slang he’d suddenly started using, the increasingly frequent “late nights at the office.” I had made him my only emotional support, so I chose to lie to myself. After retracting the photo, Isabelle sent another message. “Oops, wrong person.” It was followed by a few discount coupons for the resort. I stared at the pathetic, malicious performance. I didn’t reply. Instead, I clicked on her social media profile. She must have forgotten to block me. Her latest post was the exact photo she had just retracted. “Time for a new life to begin! Everyone’s invited to my housewarming party!” The post was tagged with a location. It was my plot of land. The most jarring part was the comment section. Ben had liked the post and left a comment. “Congratulations on your new chapter, baby.” I even saw a comment from my cousin Zoe. “Congrats, Isabelle! A true independent woman of the new era. So proud of you!” They all knew whose land that was, yet they could congratulate the thief on her “housewarming” with clear consciences. My face was a cold mask as I stared at the screen. I made a call, informing the land registry office that there was a dispute regarding the deed and requested an immediate freeze on the transfer of ownership. Let’s see who dares to touch my property without my signature. 3 The next day, I drove to the property. It had been developed into a high-end villa community. Isabelle’s party was being held in one of the completed model homes. I contacted the property manager, an old subordinate of my father’s, and had him transfer the highest-level access for the villa’s smart lock system to my name. Then I got back in my car and waited for the show to begin. Soon, the lawn outside the villa was decorated with flowers and balloons. A champagne tower sparkled in the sunlight. Guests began to arrive, most of them young faces I didn’t recognize. Until I saw my cousin, Zoe. She was holding a glass of champagne, her arm linked with Isabelle’s, her eyes full of fawning admiration. “Isabelle, you’re amazing! Owning a house in a place like this at your age.” She then turned to Ben. “You’d better treat our girl right, you hear me? Or her family won’t stand for it!” Isabelle lowered her head, blushing, and Ben pulled her into his embrace, promising Zoe with a solemn face that he would cherish Isabelle for the rest of his life. The lawn erupted in applause and whistles. A middle-aged woman grabbed Isabelle’s hand, her wrinkled face beaming with pride as she announced to everyone, “Our Isabelle has always been such a good girl! Look how successful she is now, with such a wonderful boyfriend!” Isabelle, her cheeks red, smiled sweetly. “It’s all because Ben is so good to me.” Others chimed in. “The Miller family has really produced a phoenix!” Another man raised his glass. “And Ben is a real man’s man! Giving her a gift this big before they’re even married. That takes guts!” A relative sighed wistfully. “God, if only my daughter could find a man like Ben. I think about my son-in-law and I could just scream!” The crowd laughed. “Keep dreaming! Do you see the kind of woman Isabelle is?” The party was in full swing. Toasts were made, compliments flew. Ben and Isabelle were at the center of it all, basking in the adoration. And I watched the whole ridiculous spectacle without a flicker of emotion. Just then, Ben pulled out a ring. In front of everyone, he dropped to one knee, his eyes locked on Isabelle with profound love. “Isabelle, in front of all our friends and family, will you marry me?” The enormous diamond glittered, painfully bright in the sun. “Say yes! Say yes!” the crowd chanted. Isabelle’s eyes filled with tears as she choked out, “I will.” They embraced tightly, surrounded by a chorus of blessings and wishes for their happiness. Until a discordant voice cut through the noise. “Mr. Vance, if I recall correctly… aren’t you already married?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384476”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the first week of the semester, I started having recurring dreams about two men, both of whom claimed to be my boyfriend. I’d wake up sore all over. I went to see a psychiatrist. “It’s just stress. Don’t worry,” he said with a gentle smile, prescribing me some medication. “Take this, and you’ll fall asleep early.” But after I started taking it, I found the dreams only got longer. In the dream, the other man clasped my hands, a low chuckle in his voice. “I told you to use a smaller dose. It lasts too long. She can’t handle it.” 1 “Look at you… so beautiful…” The large hand resting on my collarbone was elegant and long-fingered. But I couldn’t see his face. “Eva, wake up!” A voice yanked me from my sleep. My roommate, Jade, was sitting on the edge of my bed, her face etched with worry. She touched my forehead, which was slick with sweat. “Eva, are you running a fever? Your face is so red. Should we go to the clinic?” I was lying in my small dorm bed, drenched in sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs. My whole body ached. “I’m… fine,” I croaked, my voice hoarse. The clock on the wall ticked rhythmically. I flexed my wrist, a phantom pain from the dream lingering with unsettling reality. Right before Jade woke me, those two men had been discussing how to tie my hands and suspend me in front of a full-length mirror… 2 This was the fourth time this week. Ever since moving into this dorm room, the dreams had become a nightly occurrence. Two men, their faces always obscured. One seemed older, with a calm, warm demeanor. His fingers were long, an expensive watch circling his wrist. His voice was so smooth it could make your legs go weak. A wolf in gentleman’s clothing. The other was younger. Though he always spoke with a smile, he was the aggressive one, showing me no mercy. They both said they were my boyfriend. And they seemed determined to wear me out. Every morning, I woke up feeling sore and battered, sometimes having to grip the bedpost just to steady myself as I stood up. “Eva, we’re going to be late for anatomy lab. You coming?” Jade, clutching her textbook, broke through my thoughts. I’m a medical student, a staunch atheist. I dismissed the strange dreams as nothing more than academic stress. But I couldn’t tell Jade. She was so delicate; she’d hide in a corner during a horror movie. This wasn’t something I could share. 3 Friday afternoon. The anatomy lab was packed. Jade had already saved us seats in the front row. “Eva, where are you going?” she called out from the crowd. Lost in thought about the dreams, I’d walked right past her. The flow of students was thick. As I tried to back up, carrying my books, someone tripped me from behind. I felt myself falling, books and all. Suddenly, a strong, firm hand was on the small of my back, searingly hot. A gentle push was all it took to stop my fall. “Careful. Wouldn’t want you to get soaked.” The low, lazy chuckle sent a shiver down my spine, weakening my knees. It was the same voice that had teased me countless times in my dreams. This had to be a nightmare. Jade was mouthing something at the person behind me—Senior. I slowly turned my head. It was Adrian, a PhD student a few years ahead of us, currently serving as the TA for our anatomy class. He stood behind me, his head tilted slightly, his handsome features framed by a sweep of dark lashes. Beneath them, his dark eyes danced with amusement. “Need a hand?” A nervous sweat broke out on my skin. I scrambled back. “No… no, thank you, Adrian.” His gaze lingered on my face for a second before he smiled. “Take your seat, class is about to start.” I’d never spoken to him before. He was one of the most popular guys on campus, constantly surrounded by admirers, but he’d never been known to have a girlfriend. Rumor had it his tastes were… unconventional. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, slicing into golden shafts around Adrian as he stood at the front of the lab. Dressed in a white coat, he looked almost godlike. He had already pulled on a pair of white latex gloves and picked up a scalpel. The material fit his skin like a second layer as his fingers moved deftly through flesh and tissue. Jade squeezed my hand, her voice a shy whisper. “Eva, did you know? Adrian’s dissection skills are famous.” She spoke a little too loudly. Adrian seemed to hear her and glanced over, a faint smile on his lips. His light-colored eyes met mine, but there was no warmth in them—only a calculating, analytical gaze that sent an inexplicable chill up my spine. I instinctively shrank closer to Jade. At the front, Adrian’s fingers moved with fluid, efficient grace. His cool voice echoed through the lecture hall as he began to explain the day’s lesson. I couldn’t help but be pulled back into the dream—where he used that same skillful touch, that same effortless control, to play with you until you broke down and begged… I was losing my mind. I needed to see a doctor. The moment class ended, I ignored Jade’s calls, packed my books, and fled. 4 The university health center was just south of the main campus, not a long walk. Friday afternoons were always the busiest. I checked in with the psychiatry department and waited for my name to be called. The consultation room was quiet. The warm glow of the setting sun streamed through the window. The only sound was the mechanical click of a computer mouse. My eyes were drawn to a pale, elegant hand resting on it. A watch on the wrist caught the light, glinting brightly. Backlit as he was, I could only make out the blurred profile of his face and the sharp silhouette of his broad shoulders and narrow waist. This was Dr. Smith Croft, the university’s renowned psychology professor. He was young, but he had both a brilliant academic mind and a captivating appearance. He radiated an aura of cool, scholarly restraint. “What seems to be the trouble?” he asked softly. My heart skipped a beat. The voice, smooth enough to melt your resolve, flowed into my ears on the quiet afternoon air. My mind flashed to the dream, to the hand that had pinned me against the mirror, to the voice that had laughed and told me to watch… I really was going crazy. Everyone was starting to look like the men from my dreams. “Miss? Are you listening?” Dr. Croft’s gentle gaze peered over the top of his glasses, pulling me back to reality. I licked my dry lips and noticed he wasn’t writing notes. He was leaning back, arms crossed, waiting patiently for me to speak. “I’m sorry, yes. I’m listening,” I said, sitting up straight like a chastised child. It felt like even looking at him for too long was some kind of sacrilege. “Don’t be nervous. Just tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was a rich, soothing balm that instantly calmed my frayed nerves. I nodded, stammering, “I’ve been having… nightmares. For a week now…” As I said it, I felt a hot blush creep up my neck. Dr. Croft’s expression grew serious. “Nightmares? Can you give me any details?” I was at a loss for words. “Well… not exactly nightmares… more like… being teased…” A flicker of surprise crossed Dr. Croft’s cool eyes. He tapped a pen against his desk in a steady, rhythmic beat. He seemed intrigued, leaning forward slightly. “I see… And what do you think is causing this?” I wrung my hands together. “Maybe… just too much stress. It’s affecting my sleep.” “Are you tired when you wake up?” His voice was so gentle, it was easy to follow his line of questioning. “Yes, Doctor. I… I’m exhausted.” He gave a knowing smile and scribbled something on a notepad. “It’s just stress. Don’t worry. I’ll prescribe you something. Take it as directed. It will help you fall asleep early.” A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank you, Doctor.” I hoped the medication would finally put an end to these mortifying nights. 5 That evening, I sat at my desk and took out the sleeping pills. Jade watched me, her expression hesitant. “Did you… did you go see Dr. Croft today?” “How did you know?” “No reason.” Her eyes seemed to dim. She handed me a glass of sweet-tasting water. “By the way, Eva, I think Adrian is a really great guy. Don’t you?” Great? Maybe. I took the pill with the water Jade gave me. The effects were almost immediate. A heavy drowsiness washed over me, pulling me into a fog. I thought I would finally get a peaceful night’s sleep. But— The dream returned. The same two men. A cool voice spoke first. “…She’s not feeling well today. Take it easy on her.” The scene was bright, blinding. My mind conjured an image of Adrian, but I had no strength to call out his name. Then, the low chuckle of the older man, soothing and close to my ear. “Hush, it’s just a routine check-up. We won’t hurt you.” I mumbled a response, struggling against the invisible bonds of sleep, but I couldn’t wake up. The air was thick with a strange mixture of scents. Pine, citrus, and antiseptic. Their two scents, blended together. Oh god, I thought. Even in my dreams, they’re making me study for exams. “So cute,” the other man whispered, then leaned down and kissed me. Panic surged. I fought back with all my might. Suddenly, a sharp pain on my lip, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. I let out a muffled groan, nearly choking. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like a fish out of water, my mouth opening and closing uselessly. A hand cradled the back of my head, and a palm patted my cheek. “Eva, breathe. You’re going to suffocate yourself—” Adrian’s voice was laced with a weary amusement. “I told you to use a smaller dose. It lasts too long. She can’t handle it.” … Thud. A loud crash shattered the dream. I woke up to find myself sitting on the floor of my dorm room. I’d knocked over the basin of water I kept by my bed. Jade’s sleepy voice drifted down from her bunk. “It’s Saturday, Eva. What are you doing up so early…?” “Sorry…” I mumbled, feeling utterly drained, as if I’d just run a marathon. It hit me then. I’d dreamed again. The symptoms hadn’t just failed to improve; they’d gotten worse. The dream had been longer. I gripped the bed frame, my entire body shaking. A profound weakness, originating from the very core of my being, made it a struggle to even stand. After a few minutes, I managed to pull myself up and get a glass of water. The moment the cool liquid touched my lips, a sharp, stinging pain made me wince. It hurts… I stumbled into the bathroom. In the mirror, a girl in a simple cotton slip nightgown stared back, her hair a mess, her cheeks flushed. And on her lower lip was a tiny, broken wound. A bite mark? It was real? My hands trembled as I lifted my wrist. There, on the tender skin of my inner wrist, were faint, pinkish marks… My reflection’s eyes widened in disbelief, the color draining from her face. Was any of this… really just a dream? 6 I was trapped in a spiral of self-doubt. Was I losing my mind, or was something else going on? “Eva, what are you thinking about?” Jade’s voice broke my concentration. “We have that elective today. The professor takes attendance.” I envied her so much. She got to sleep soundly every night. Ten minutes later, I dragged my exhausted body into the lecture hall. My back and legs ached like an old woman’s. As expected, we were late. “The students who are late, please take a seat in the front.” I had just sat down when the voice from the front of the room reached me. I looked up… it was Adrian. He was leaning against the lectern, a placid smile on his face. But the classroom was dead silent. He had, after all, failed half the class in this elective last semester. Steeling myself, I walked with Jade to the front row. Adrian didn’t call me out directly, but when he got to my name during roll call, he paused. “Eva. Why were you late today?” My voice was barely a whisper. “I… overslept.” “Oh? And what were you doing last night?” I choked. “Exercising.” Adrian suddenly grinned. “As I understand it, for exercise to be effective, you have to be consistent. Perhaps you… need more practice.” My face burned. “Okay…” He didn’t bother me for the rest of the class. Jade rested her chin on her hand and whispered, “Adrian is so disciplined and has such a bright future. If I were you, I’d be ecstatic.” Something about that felt wrong. “Why would I be ecstatic?” As far as anyone knew, Adrian and I were complete strangers. Why was she talking as if he liked me? She faltered, fiddling with her pen. “Oh, you’re missing the point…” 7 After class, I packed my books, eager to get back and catch up on sleep. “Eva, come here. I have something for you,” Adrian called from behind me. His voice was cool and businesslike. I hesitated for a moment before walking back. He pulled a black bag out from under the lectern. “For you.” “What is it?” “A heat patch,” he said, gathering his notes. “For muscle strains from… exercise. This will help it heal faster.” “…” He glanced at me. “Jade told me. She’s studying under my advisor now, so she’s my ‘little sister’ in the lab.” “Oh… I see.” I felt a pang of shame for my wild assumptions. No wonder Jade had been acting so strange. She must have misinterpreted Adrian’s odd behavior as interest in me and was trying to set us up. 8 I bought Jade some snacks on the way back to the dorm that day. She was sitting at her computer, busy with something. I crept up behind her, planning to surprise her. But when I saw what was on her screen, the smile froze on my face. She was researching… knots. All kinds of intricate knots, the kind designed to bind someone completely. Hearing me, Jade turned, saw me, and slammed her laptop shut as if she’d been caught. “Eva! You’re back!” She looked flustered, her eyes darting away from mine. My mind was a chaotic mess. I mechanically tossed the snacks into her lap. “Bought these for you.” Jade casually pushed the snacks aside and took my hand. “Thank you…” She was always polite, but this time, her touch made my skin crawl. “What… what were you looking at?” She blinked. “Oh, just practicing knots. The surgery professor just taught us some. I wanted to get some extra practice.” “Really?” I struggled to keep my voice even. The knots on her screen were nothing like the surgical knots we had been taught. Jade linked her arm through mine, changing the subject. “I’m starving. Come eat with me, Eva.” I watched her back with a complex expression, a terrifying thought taking root in my mind. Maybe my dreams were just my imagination. But the physical marks… Jade was the one leaving them. The thought was so horrifying I couldn’t stand the idea of sharing a room with her any longer. That evening, I submitted a request to my advisor to change dorms. She said the earliest she could get me an answer was next Wednesday, which meant I had to spend two or three more nights in that room with Jade. Before bed, she handed me her usual glass of honey water. I poured it down the sink while she was in the bathroom. The night deepened. I lay in the dark, tense and on high alert. Eventually, sheer exhaustion won, and I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes again, it was morning. Jade was already dressed, her dark hair falling smoothly down her back. She spoke in her usual gentle tone. “Eva, I’m going to the cafeteria. Do you want me to bring you anything?” It was the first good night’s sleep I’d had in what felt like forever. “No, thanks.” I lay there, staring at the ceiling, and quietly breathed a sigh of relief. I had found the problem. Jade had been drugging me. As long as I was careful, I would be fine. For the next few nights, I avoided her honey water and slept soundly. Jade seemed to notice. She would look at me with apologetic eyes and kept buying me snacks as a form of “penance.” Some things were better left unsaid. My only option was to wait for my advisor’s notice. 9 The day before I was scheduled to move, I went to the clinic for a follow-up. I wanted to thank Dr. Croft and ask for advice on managing mild anxiety. At the entrance, I ran into Mark, the head of the student union. He’d been pursuing me for a while, and despite my repeated rejections, he was persistent. “Eva, fancy seeing you here! Are you sick?” he asked with a wide grin. It was a little awkward. “Yeah, I have an appointment with the psych department.” He looked surprised. “Stressed from studying? Don’t worry, I’ll go with you.” Before I could protest, he was already dragging me upstairs. The psych department was less crowded today. After a quick word with the nurse at the desk, he pushed open the door to Dr. Croft’s office. “Dr. Croft, I have a friend here to see you—” His words died in his throat. Inside the bright office, Dr. Croft was sitting leisurely in his chair, legs crossed. Adrian was leaning against the window, hands in his pockets. They both turned at the sound. Backlit by the window, I couldn’t see their expressions, but a prickling sensation crawled up my spine, as if I were being watched by predators. Mark scratched his head. “Sorry, the nurse said you didn’t have a patient, so I just—” “What are you to Eva?” Adrian cut him off, his tone flat. Mark grinned good-naturedly. “I’m pursuing her.” The room fell silent. Dr. Croft laced his fingers together and let out a soft, almost mocking laugh. Adrian took his hands out of his pockets and stood up straight. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. My face flushed. “Don’t… don’t say things like that…” Mark gave me a little push into the room. “Well, I’ve got to run. See you later!” Bang. The door closed, leaving the three of us alone. I had no idea they knew each other. “I’m sorry, I’ll… I’ll just go—” Adrian started walking towards me. I stumbled back a few steps as he closed the distance, blocking the light. His dark eyes held a shallow smile as he reached past me. I heard a soft click. The door was locked. The next thing I heard was his cold laugh. “Smith, so this was your brilliant idea? Give her a few days off, and she finds herself a new man.” My mind went blank. The blood drained from my face. Smith stood up, positioning himself between me and Adrian. He took off his watch, his voice as smooth as ever. “As an apology, then. You can go first.” 10 As dusk settled, the hospital’s noise began to fade. Adrian’s hand clamped around the back of my neck, and he mercilessly crushed his lips against mine. The scent of citrus flooded my senses. The last rays of sun reflected in my panicked eyes, but they didn’t seem to notice. Smith wrapped his arms around me from behind, his fingers gently tracing the nape of my neck. “What are you afraid of? It’s not your first time, is it?” My thoughts were a tangled mess. How had my life come to this? Smith lightly squeezed my reddened ear. “I was going to give you a break, but you’re just too eye-catching.” “What does it matter to you if someone likes me?” Adrian rubbed my swollen lips with his thumb and chuckled. “See? She doesn’t even know what she did wrong.” He took my limp body from Smith, one arm supporting my waist. “Where’s the break room?” Smith crossed his arms. “Small door on the right.” “What are you going to do?” “Isn’t it obvious? We’re going to enjoy the main course.” Smith stayed outside. I was dragged into a dim lounge. The air smelled faintly of pine. Dr. Croft’s staff ID was on the nightstand; this was his private space. Adrian tossed me onto the bed. I scrambled forward, but he grabbed my ankle and dragged me back. “Where do you think you’re going?” Sweat beaded on my forehead. “No… I… I’m not feeling well—” “Stop pretending,” he laughed softly. “I did your physical exam, remember? I know everything about you.” In my panic, I kicked out, my foot connecting with a sensitive area. He grunted, his grip tightening. “Eva, even if you broke me, I wouldn’t let you go.” He trapped me, his lips gently brushing my forehead. The power disparity was too great; my struggles were nothing to him. So it wasn’t a dream. Jade was his accomplice. As his familiar touch sent shivers of despair through me, I heard a nurse’s voice from outside the door. My head snapped up. “Help—mmph—” Adrian’s hand shot out, pulling me into the shadows. “You little brat. Who do you think is going to save you?” “Excuse me, Dr. Croft? Is someone in there?” “Yes. A new kitten I just got.” “Oh, we love kittens! Can we see?” Smith’s polite refusal came through the door. “I’m sorry, she’s too small. Not ready for visitors. I’m afraid she’ll get sick.” I had struggled so much I was drenched in sweat. I lay there like a dead fish, all hope gone. The world was ending. Suddenly, the glass door was pushed open. A sliver of light cut across the closed blinds. Smith stood in the doorway, his tone mild. “Not today, I’m afraid. We’ll have to find another place.” Adrian hissed. “Smith, are you serious?” He pushed himself up and saw Smith leaning against the doorframe, shamelessly looking me over. Adrian grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around me, then used a tissue to wipe the sweat from my face. Smith chuckled. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before. What are you hiding?” I cleared my throat, swallowing the raspiness. “Can… can I go now?” They both looked at me with mocking smiles, as if I’d asked the stupidest question in the world. A few minutes later, I was sandwiched between them, walking past the nurses’ station, my face burning. “Oh, Doctor, does this young lady need some help?” The hand hidden under Adrian’s coat tightened its grip, and my whole body went rigid. I shook my head violently. “No… I don’t. Thank you.” Adrian laughed. “That was a close one. You wouldn’t want to cause a scene, would you, Eva?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384492”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my wedding day, my fiancé was a no-show. His reason: the girl he was supposed to marry, the one I replaced, was having a depressive episode. As the silence in the grand hall stretched into an eternity, I called the man who’d been my shadow, my best friend for the last decade. The one who’d told me he loved me a thousand times. “Liam,” I said, my voice dangerously steady. “If you get here now, I’ll marry you instead.” A dry, cold laugh came through the phone. “You really think you’re all that, don’t you?” Before I could process the sting, another voice bled through the line—a delicate, trembling soprano. “Liam,” she whispered, “are you going to leave me, too?” It was Stella. Of course, it was Stella. Half an hour later, two men stormed into the reception hall. My fiancé, Carter, marched up to me. In front of hundreds of guests, his hand cracked across my face. “Stella is in so much pain, and all you can think about is your goddamn wedding?” he snarled, his voice vibrating with rage. “Do you even have a heart?” The blow sent me stumbling backward. I wasn’t used to the heels, the weight of the dress. I crashed into the ten-tier wedding cake, a humiliating explosion of buttercream and jam. A clown in a ruined gown. I looked up, my eyes searching for Liam. He stood by the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, a flicker of disgust in his eyes. Even my own parents marched toward me, their faces etched with disappointment. “A wedding can be rescheduled, Chloe,” my father said, his voice tight with authority. “Stella’s health is not something we can afford to delay.” But when I finally decided to give up on all of them, they were the ones who panicked. 1 The slap from Carter’s hand was still ringing in my ears as I tried to peel myself away from the wreckage of the cake. Sticky cream and fruit filling soaked into the custom-designed silk of my wedding dress. My gaze instinctively flew to Liam. His eyes, the eyes that had always looked at me with warmth, were now filled with a deep, chilling contempt. He scanned me from head to toe, his voice cold as ice. “Chloe, you’ve gone too far this time,” he said. “Stella is having a breakdown. This is life or death. And you choose now to throw a tantrum? Have you no humanity?” A sharp, stinging pain radiated from my cheek. I saw a single drop of blood land on the white satin of my skirt. I touched my nose; my fingers came away wet and warm. “Carter, are you insane?” I whispered. He let out a bitter laugh. “If it weren’t for Stella—if she, in her kindness, hadn’t begged me with tears in her eyes to come here and go through with this farce—do you think I would have shown up at all?” He violently yanked a glass from the bottom of the champagne tower, sending the entire structure crashing down in a symphony of shattering crystal. With his other hand, he grabbed a bottle, held it over my head, and let the golden liquid cascade down, soaking my hair, my dress, my skin. When the bottle was empty, I was a drenched, pathetic mess. He smashed the bottle on the floor, then crouched down, his face inches from mine. “You wanted to get married, right?” he hissed. “Here. A wedding toast.” He still had the glass he’d salvaged. It was full. With a brutal flick of his wrist, he flung its contents into my face. The liquid dripped down my chin. I couldn’t tell what was champagne and what was blood. He stood up, towering over me. “Satisfied, my lawfully wedded wife?” And Liam, my childhood friend, just watched. Hands in his pockets, an impassive spectator at the circus. A murmur rippled through the guests. My parents finally pushed through the crowd. For a fleeting, foolish moment, I thought they were coming to defend me. My mother didn’t even look at me. Her eyes were wide with panic. “Where is my Stella?” she demanded, her voice frantic. “You know how fragile she is! How could you both leave her to come here? Tell me where she is! If anything happens to her, I swear, I won’t go on living!” My father took the microphone from the stunned officiant. “My apologies, everyone,” he announced, his voice strained but firm. “There has been a small family emergency. The wedding is canceled for today. All gifts will be returned. I offer my sincerest apologies to all our friends and family who came to celebrate with us.” He set the microphone down and turned to Carter, his face a grim mask. “Take us to Stella. Now.” He never once glanced in my direction. The tremor in his voice betrayed a desperate anxiety he couldn’t quite conceal. Just then, the grand doors at the back of the hall burst open. A tear-choked cry echoed through the room. “Dad… Mom…” 2 Stella stood there, a vision in a simple white dress, her face a canvas of tears. She stumbled forward, her high heels clicking a frantic, sharp rhythm on the marble floor. Even in this state, she was the picture of tragic grace. The little princess the Monroe family had meticulously crafted for over twenty years. Every movement, even a panicked sob, was more refined than anything I could ever manage. She looked heartbreakingly beautiful. “Mom, Dad, please… please don’t leave me,” she cried. Every eye in the room was fixed on her. My mother was the first to move, breaking into a run, her own tears flowing freely. “Stella, my baby, don’t be scared. Mama’s here.” My father followed, his usual stoicism crumbling. The man I’d never seen show emotion had red-rimmed eyes. He reached them, wrapping his arms around my mother, who was already holding Stella, pulling them both into a tight, protective embrace. Carter watched them, a profound sigh of relief escaping his lips. The look in his eyes as he gazed at Stella was pure, undiluted love. Liam glanced back at me, a slow, disappointed shake of his head. I ignored him. Painfully, I pushed myself to my feet. A sharp pain shot through my ankle; I must have twisted it when I fell. I started to limp away, in the opposite direction of the family tableau. I didn’t get two steps before a hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back. I stumbled, turning to find myself face-to-face with Liam. “Chloe,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Tonight… you disappointed me more than I can say.” He wouldn’t let go of my arm. “I always thought you were tough, resilient. I never thought you’d resort to cheap tricks like this to get attention.” His grip tightened. “Stella has already given back everything she ever had to you. Why can’t you just leave her alone? Why did you have to push her to the edge at a time like this?” He finally let go, his final question hanging in the air like a judgment. “Chloe, what happened to you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384508”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Leo and I were the kind of childhood constants people write songs about, clinging to each other like vines growing up the same crumbling wall. The year we were poorest, he danced at a dive bar downtown to pay my way through college. He’d make three thousand a month. Five hundred for our drafty studio, two hundred for himself. The rest was for me. All of it. The day after I graduated, my stepfather decided it was time to cash me in, telling me I had to marry some guy he knew to help fund my stepbrother’s latest dead-end business venture. Leo called every person he knew, borrowed from anyone who would listen, and scraped together enough cash to buy my freedom. He slapped the bills on my stepfather’s table and that was that. From then on, we were it. The only two sources of warmth in that cramped, damp apartment that always smelled of rain. Six months after I got my first real job, I bought a pair of rings. I was going to ask him to marry me. I came home, turned the key in the lock, and walked in on a scene that burned itself onto the back of my eyelids. Leo, shirtless, was bent over, his back muscles tight. He was picking something up off the floor. Something small. Something lace. A stranger’s underwear. And on our bed—our bed—was a naked woman I’d never seen before. Before a single question could tear its way out of my throat, his voice cut through the silence, cold as steel. “Rosie, I’m tired. Just… let me go.” The world stopped for two seconds. Then, I found my voice, a whisper from a stranger’s mouth. “Okay.” I walked over to him, my legs moving on their own. I took the small, velvet-lined box from my pocket. Instead of the rings, I pulled out the cheap kite charm I’d bought for his keychain months ago and pressed it into his palm. “Go on,” I said. “Go find your freedom.” 1 I’d replayed the scene of seeing Leo again a thousand times in my head. Never once did it happen like this. The call came from his phone, but the voice was a nurse from County General. There’s been an accident. A car crash. Are you able to come to the hospital? It was the first I’d heard that he was even back in the city. This sprawling metropolis, where even at three in the morning the streets bleed with the light of a thousand cars, felt impossibly large and suffocatingly small all at once. I got to the hospital, scribbled down his room number, and rushed through the sterile, echoing hallways. It was a private room, but not a spacious one. A woman with a figure made for magazines stood with her back to me, her voice a playful purr. “See, Leo? I was the first one here. Don’t I get points for that?” “Yeah,” he answered. “You’re the best.” That voice. The same gravelly timbre that had once been my entire world. I froze, my hand hovering inches from the door. It had been years. The breakup had felt like being torn in half, a visceral, physical agony. But time, they say, is the great healer. And for the most part, it had worked. Thinking of him no longer sent me into a spiral. But hearing his voice, so suddenly, so unexpectedly… I realized the truth. It wasn’t that the love was gone. It was just too heavy, a weight I’d locked away in the deepest part of my chest, hoping to never feel its pull again. I couldn’t go in. Instead, I found a nurse at the main desk, got Leo’s patient ID, and paid for his hospital stay. Leaving the hospital, I pulled my car over to the curb and smoked for what felt like an hour. I was always the good girl, the straight-A student. Smoking was the one and only bad habit I’d inherited from Leo, something I only picked up after he left. The pressure at work had been mounting for years, and so had my nicotine addiction. I finished half a pack, my head swimming. The last drag went down the wrong way, and I collapsed against the steering wheel in a fit of harsh, ragged coughs. Pathetic. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. By all rights, this was the moment I was supposed to stroll back into his life, looking incredible, a picture of effortless success, and hit him with a cool, detached, “Long time no see.” Instead, I hadn’t even laid eyes on him. The mere sound of his voice had sent me running like a coward. Maybe I was just one of those people. The kind who loves nothing more than to offer up her own heart, just to watch someone else stomp on it. 2 Over the next few days, I went back. I never went in, just skulked around, even managed to ask his attending physician about his condition. Leo’s room was always full of life. No matter when I crept by, there was a crowd around his bed—men, women, all of them laughing, talking, a whirlwind of energy. It wasn’t a surprise. He’d always been like that, a natural center of gravity. People just orbited him. He was born to be the focus of the room. The last time I cornered his doctor, the poor man was rubbing his temples, clearly exhausted. “Look, the patient in room 214’s injuries are not severe. A minor fracture, a slight concussion. He’s recovering perfectly well. I know you all care about him, but could you please just… elect a spokesperson? I’ve had to give this same update six times today. It’s affecting my ability to speak with other families.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t family. I just mumbled an apology and backed out of his office. And walked straight into Leo, who was taking a slow stroll down the hallway. He had an entourage. One person holding his IV drip, another with a hand on his arm, a third trailing behind. A king holding court. I overheard him grumbling, his voice laced with annoyance. “I’m injured, not an invalid. Can you people let go of me? I can walk on my own.” His words died in his throat the moment he saw me. I wished the hospital corridor wasn’t so wide, so bright, leaving no shadows to hide the panic seizing my body. We stood there for a long, silent moment. Finally, I broke the spell. “Long time no see.” “Leo, who’s this?” one of his friends asked, looking me up and down. Leo’s eyes never left mine. His expression was flat, unreadable. “Someone I grew up with.” “The way she’s staring, I thought she was an ex-girlfriend or something,” the friend chuckled. Someone I grew up with. Twenty-odd years of a shared life. I wore his only winter coat; he wore my only scarf. We’d shared single orders of takeout and slept tangled together in one bed. And now, it was all reduced to that one, sterile phrase. My fingers tightened around my phone. I turned to leave. “Wait,” Leo called out. He asked if I was the one who paid his bill. “I saw the call log on my phone. The hospital called you, right?” he said. “You still use the same bank account? I’ll transfer the money back.” “Don’t,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. “If anyone’s transferring money, it should be me.” Leo froze. “I was always so shameless about spending your money,” I continued, forcing a casualness I didn’t feel. “It’s embarrassing to think about now. Give me your account number. I want to pay you back.” His friend laughed again. “Pay him back after all these years? Where’s the sincerity in that? You gonna add interest?” Leo shot the guy a look so cold it could have frozen fire. “Ignore him,” Leo said to me. “You don’t have to pay me back.” I scratched the back of my head, a nervous habit. “No, I do.” I used to take his money without a second thought. When he bought me things, it felt as natural as breathing. We were family. His money was mine, and one day, mine would be his. But we weren’t family anymore. And when you’re not family, you settle your debts. 3 He never gave me his account number, but I went to my bank and had them print a detailed statement of all the transfers from the college years. The next day, clutching a cashier’s check, I took a deep breath and walked back into the hospital. His room was empty. Stripped bare. A part of me knew he’d never take the money. I just wanted an excuse to see him again. But he wouldn’t even grant me that. The moment I reappeared, he vanished. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder what I did that was so wrong. I never screamed at him, never made a scene. What did I do to make him hate me so much, to make him avoid me like I was poison? “You know, what men hate even more than a heartless bitch is a clingy, lovesick martyr,” my friend Chloe said, downing her cocktail at the bar. She tapped my forehead with her finger. “A girl who acts like a piece of gum on their shoe. Annoying to have around, disgusting to scrape off.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m talking about you. The girl with the broken heart-shaped brain.” I clutched my glass, offering a serious rebuttal. “First, my brain is not broken. I’ve never loved anyone but Leo. Second, he’s not a scumbag. He’s… he was a good person.” Chloe rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “Oh my god. I thought years apart would give you some clarity, but you’re exactly the same. It’s hopeless. We should just bury you alive.” I managed a small smile and didn’t argue further. Every single one of my friends had told me I was delusional. And I’d explained to every single one of them that I wasn’t. I knew exactly what I was doing. My brain wasn’t broken. He really, truly had been so good to me. “That’s what they all say,” Chloe sighed. “But look at what he did, Rosie. He cheated on you. In the apartment you shared. With another woman. Then he ghosted you. You waited outside that bar for a week straight trying to get him to talk to you, and he never even showed his face.” “You don’t understand,” I said, my voice thick. “Without Leo, I wouldn’t have gone to college. I might not even be alive.” I drained half my beer in one go. My tolerance had grown over the years, but tonight, I was mixing everything, and it was hitting me hard. I slumped against the bar, grabbing Chloe’s arm and pointing a shaky finger at the dancers on the small stage. “My tuition, my books, my food for four years… Leo earned it all, one night at a time, just like that.” “He was making three grand a month back then. Five hundred for rent, two for himself. The rest of it? All on me.” “He got into college too, you know. A state school. But my parents wouldn’t pay for me. So Leo said his school wasn’t that great anyway. He said he’d drop out, get a job, and support me.” “And when I graduated, and my stepfather tried to marry me off for money, Leo borrowed from everyone he knew to come up with the cash to get him off my back.” I was rambling, the words tumbling out. “So you see? In a way, he already paid for me. I was supposed to be his wife. I was always going to marry him.” The music was still pounding, but Chloe had gone quiet, her head resting on her arms beside me. I fell silent for a long time. “So maybe… maybe it was only fair that he wanted to leave,” I whispered to no one. “I was a burden. I was weighing him down for so, so long.” 4 Chloe was completely passed out. I finished the last of my beer and paid the tab. As I stood up, my eyes drifted toward the entrance of the bar, and my heart slammed against my ribs. Leo. He was wearing a simple black hoodie, the hood pulled up, and a mask over his face, but I’d have recognized him anywhere. He didn’t see me. He walked straight to a crowded booth where someone immediately made space for him in the center. I watched him pull down the mask and accept a beer from a friend. A young woman leaned in close, smiling, saying something in his ear. Leo nodded absently, taking a sip of his drink. I was never the jealous type. Not with him. I was so sure of us, so certain that nothing and no one could ever come between us. I knew how magnetic he was, but I had a deep, unshakeable faith in his loyalty to me. When did that change? When did he stop loving me? I remember after he said he wanted to leave, he never came back to the apartment. I went to the bar where he worked. I called every one of his friends. I even showed up at their houses, begging them to tell me where he’d gone. I sent him endless messages. I wanted to know what went wrong, if we could just talk about it. I promised I would change, whatever it was. I told him I didn’t mind if he wanted to mess around with other girls, just please, don’t be angry with me. Eventually, the desperation turned to pure fear. I told him he didn’t have to respond, just send me one single text so I’d know he was safe. Nothing. Finally, at three in the morning, I sat on the cold concrete steps outside the bar, my whole body numb, my fingers stiff as I typed out one last message. [I agree to the breakup. Just come home. We need to figure out the apartment.] Ten minutes later, he appeared. He had been there the whole time. Standing just out of sight, watching me. Coldly. In that single moment, he became a stranger. The apartment was in his name. He said he was leaving town, that he’d prepaid three months’ rent. I could stay or talk to the landlord about breaking the lease. He left so cleanly. Just a black backpack with his wallet and his ID. Nothing else. He didn’t want anything else. I walked him downstairs, still wearing the matching set of pajamas we’d bought together at a flea market. I handed him the small kite charm. My voice was steady, but my smile was brittle. “For your freedom.” Leo. Now that you have it, this freedom you wanted so badly… are you happy? 5 Knowing Leo might be at that bar, I started going every few nights. I knew, deep down, that there was no going back for us. That was Leo. Once he made a decision, he never looked back. But I never saw him again. I couldn’t be sure if he was avoiding me, though it wouldn’t have been a surprise. Nobody enjoys being haunted by an ex they’ve grown tired of. I took to sitting at the bar, and after a while, I got to know the bartender. He’d have a drink ready for me as soon as I sat down. Tonight, I’d barely been there for two minutes when there was a loud thump beside me. I turned to see a scantily clad woman slam a delivery box onto the counter. “Vodka, straight up,” she snapped at the bartender. “Who pissed you off this time, princess?” he asked casually. “Who do you think? It’s the gift I bought for Leo. I reminded him a hundred times it was at his building’s mailroom, and it’s probably growing mold by now. He never went to get it.” She stomped her foot. “And it was expensive! I wouldn’t even buy a watch that nice for myself!” My heart skipped a beat. I discreetly glanced at the shipping label on the box. The address was there. Detailed. Down to the apartment number. The bartender slid her a sweet-tasting liqueur instead of the vodka. “I seem to recall Leo saying he doesn’t accept gifts.” “He just hasn’t gotten the right gift yet,” the woman pouted, resting her chin in her hand. “Ugh, when am I ever going to conquer that man?” “You and every other woman in a five-mile radius,” the bartender chuckled. “All I can say is, good luck.” I leaned over, feigning curiosity. “Who are you guys talking about?” The bartender grinned. “Just a really handsome guy.” “How handsome?” “Extremely.” The woman shot him a warning glare, and he clammed up. I gave an awkward laugh, paid my bill, and left. The second I was outside, I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address from the box. My heart was hammering against my ribs. My palms were sweating. I’m just going to pay him back, I told myself. That’s all. This is the last time. The absolute last time I let myself be this weak. Thirty minutes later, I was ringing the doorbell to Leo’s apartment. I heard footsteps approaching. I took a deep breath, forcing my lips into what I hoped was a natural smile. The door opened. A woman with beautiful eyes stood there, wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon, a sweet smile on her face. She looked at me, confused. “Can I help you?” “Sorry, I think I have the wrong—” The words caught in my throat. I couldn’t say another syllable. Because over her shoulder, I saw the bedroom door open. And I saw Leo walk out, shirtless, his hair messy from sleep. 6 It’s strange. I’d seen him with another woman before, the day he left me. But this… this hurt more. Maybe it was the overwhelming sense of domesticity. The apron, the spoon, the comfortable way he walked through the space. It felt like they had been together for a long, long time. It hit me with the force of a physical blow: Leo had someone else now. Not just a fling, but a life. They probably shared everything, the way we used to—a glass of water, a bed, the rising and setting of the sun. My presence here was nothing but an intrusion. If I truly loved him, if I really wanted what was best for him, I would do the graceful thing. I’d hand over the check, offer a polite smile, and disappear from his life for good. But when I tried to speak, my voice was gone. I swallowed hard, finally managing to hold out the check. “Hi. I’m… an old friend of Leo’s. From back home. He lent me some money a long time ago, and I came to pay him back.” The woman looked over her shoulder at Leo. He stood frozen for a moment, his gaze finally landing on me. After two silent seconds, he said, “You want to come in?” I shouldn’t have. I really shouldn’t have. But Leo was already getting a glass for me, pulling out a chair at the small dining table. The woman opened her mouth, then closed it, her brow furrowed. “Leo, honey, you should put a shirt on. You don’t want your cold to get worse.” He ignored her, his eyes fixed on me. I kept my head down, feeling trapped, and finally stepped inside. “Sorry to bother you.” I tried my best not to look around, terrified of what I might see, what other small details would twist the knife in my chest. But some things were unavoidable. Leo came back from the bedroom wearing a long-sleeved shirt, the air around him heavy and tense. This was how he always got when he was sick. I could tell from the tight line of his mouth that he was probably running a low fever. My fingers twitched. I curled them into a fist. The woman brought a bowl of chicken noodle soup from the kitchen. She carefully fished out the pieces of celery, then placed a hard-boiled egg on a small plate next to it. She separated the white from the yolk, placing the white on the plate and mashing the yolk into the soup with a spoon. “Here you go, Leo. Try some?” He hated celery. And he never ate the egg whites, because he knew I loved them. A sharp, stinging pain flared behind my eyes. I had to look away before the tears came. How could he be so cruel? Was this intentional? Did he want me to sit here and watch this performance of his new life, his new happiness? Leo didn’t touch the soup. He just asked me, his tone casual, like we were distant acquaintances catching up, “So, how have you been?” I looked at the woman sitting beside him, her eyes burning holes into me. I knew that if I showed even a flicker of my true feelings for Leo, a fight would erupt. I had nothing left to give him. The least I could do was not cause him any more trouble. Thinking this, I squeezed my fists tighter in my lap. The bite of my nails into my palms was sharp, but it grounded me. When I looked up, I had managed to plaster on a natural, almost shy smile. “I’ve been good,” I said. “Actually, I’m getting married soon.” Leo’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, I could see my own reflection in their dark depths. A long time ago, I was the only thing reflected there. I took a slow, steadying breath. “You two should come to the wedding.” He would never come. It was a safe lie. The hostility on the woman’s face finally melted away, her attention shifting back to Leo. “Come on, honey, eat before it gets cold.” I took a polite sip of the water in my glass, then stood up. “I should get going.” Leo stood up too. “I’ll walk you out.” “Leo, you’re still sick. I can see her out,” the woman offered. He paid her no mind, just followed me to the door, walking a little too close, close enough that I could smell the clean, simple scent of his soap. The door clicked shut behind me. I didn’t look back, just walked straight toward the elevator. Leo’s footsteps were steady behind me, the same rhythm as always. My hand, hanging by my side, twitched with the sudden, desperate urge for a cigarette. “Getting married is a good thing. You should have done it a long time ago,” he said, his voice raspy from his cold. “Is he good to you?” I was afraid my voice would break, so I just managed a small, tight, “Mmm.” “What about you?” I found my voice, forcing a smile as I turned to him. “You two seem really happy. Wedding bells in your future, too?” The elevator doors chimed open. I rushed inside, jabbing at the ‘close door’ button, not wanting to hear his answer. Only when the doors were completely sealed did I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. And I whispered to the empty space, “Goodbye.” This time, for real. No more seeing you again. 7 I walked home that night. It took almost three hours. I cried the entire way. When I finally got to my apartment, my throat was raw. I drank a whole pitcher of water, and then, without taking off my makeup or even changing my clothes, I crawled into bed and wrapped myself in the comforter like a cocoon. Sleep was a restless, shallow thing, and my mind drifted back through the years. Leo’s father was a construction worker. His stepmother was cruel, often refusing to feed him. I’d save a bowl from my dinner and sneak it to him. When I got my first period, it was Leo who went to the store to buy me pads. During puberty, when my stepfather started lingering outside the bathroom door when I showered, Leo would come over on the pretense of doing homework and wouldn’t leave until I was safely out. When the first KFC opened in our small town, Leo ate instant noodles for a week to save up enough money to take me. In high school, knitting was popular. I stayed up for three nights straight to make him a black and white scarf. He wore it every winter, right up until the day he left it behind in our little apartment. We went to college in the same city, but my classes were demanding and his job was on the opposite side of town. Money was tight, so we couldn’t see each other often. We made up for it with dozens of phone calls a day. Besides his payday, he would send me money sporadically, telling me it was extra tips from customers. My roommates found it strange that I had a boyfriend who worked in a bar. They saw me as the quiet, studious type, a world away from the nightlife scene. They hinted that a guy like that, getting tips from strangers, was probably seeing other people. But my trust in him was absolute. Blind. I never once doubted him. To save up for his birthday, I secretly took on a tutoring job. After months of saving, I bought him a ridiculously expensive down jacket. Most of the gifts I gave him were things to keep him warm. I think it was because we were so poor growing up; the winters always felt the harshest. It was hard then. So hard. But knowing I had him behind me, it never felt like suffering. It’s just a shame we can never go back. At 4 a.m., I gave up on sleep and got out of bed. I’d bought this condo last year. I put down a deposit and poured all my energy into renovating it, making every detail exactly how I wanted it. I pulled out an empty storage box and started collecting things. The mug I’d bought for him. Into the box. The set of chopsticks and bowls. Into the box. The towel and toothbrush. Into the box. The clothes I’d bought on a whim because I thought they would look good on him. Into the box. Soon, the box was overflowing. I dragged it into the storage closet. There were already two other boxes in there, filled with the remnants of our life in that tiny apartment. “You’re pathetic,” I said to myself. “But this is it. This is the last time you get to be this pathetic.” 8 I stopped going to the bar. I stopped opening the storage closet. I started deliberately avoiding the entire neighborhood where Leo lived. For Chloe’s birthday, I brought a bottle of wine to her party. The moment I walked in, she pulled me aside conspiratorially. “What do you think of that one?” She jutted her chin toward the living room. I scanned the crowd. There was only one man I didn’t recognize, wearing rimless glasses, with a gentle, academic air about him. I nodded with a smile. “He’s handsome.” “And he’s single,” Chloe said, grinning. “Interested?” I shook my head, smiling. Fearing she would press the issue, I looked her in the eye. “Seriously, Chloe. I’m just not in that headspace right now. I promise, the day I decide I’m ready to date, you’ll be the first person I call.” She sighed, defeated. Later in the evening, after a few more glasses of wine, Chloe put her arm around my shoulders. “You know,” she said softly, “when you and Leo broke up, a part of all of us was relieved. You had such a bright future, this whole amazing life ahead of you. It would have been a shame to see you settle for something… ordinary.” She paused, swirling the wine in her glass. “But seeing you now… I don’t know. It’s complicated.” I took another sip of my own wine. “I’ve seen you happy, Rosie,” she continued. “It’s not that you’re unhappy now, but… there’s a part of you that’s missing. It’s a damn shame.” I smiled. “What’s there to be ashamed of?” “After seeing Leo again… did you ever think about getting back together with him?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384301”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Riding the elevator after midnight. A handsome guy walks in, an iron chain dangling from his wrist. I stare at the chain. He thinks I’m nervous. “Don’t worry,” he says, trying to reassure me. “It doesn’t bite—holy crap, where’s my dog?” 1 Two in the morning. The world was dead silent. I was standing in the elevator when a man in a face mask stepped in. The eyes visible above the mask were gorgeous. I didn’t dare look for long. A quick glance and my head was down. But then my gaze froze on the floor. An iron chain, thick as my thumb, was stretched taut from the man’s wrist. He casually rotated his wrist, and the chain let out a soft, metallic clink. Late night… elevator… iron chain… handsome man… Put it all together, and it felt unnervingly weird. I swallowed hard, the gulp echoing in the silent car. He must have noticed my anxiety. His eyes crinkled into a smile. “Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “It doesn’t bite… Holy crap, where’s my dog?!” I pressed my lips together, shut my eyes, and fought with every fiber of my being to suppress the gale of laughter threatening to erupt. My face turned purple from the effort. The elevator was still ascending. The man looked like he wanted to pry the doors open and leap out. He paced frantically, a perfect picture of a doting dog owner in full-blown panic. A few seconds later, to my utter astonishment, he started to cry. 2 His eyes were bloodshot, tears welling up, making him look utterly pathetic. I fumbled in my purse and handed him a tissue. “Hey, don’t cry. I’ll help you look for him. We’ll find him.” He took the tissue, his voice low. “There are so many dog-nappers these days. I’m scared he…” “No way,” I said, my tone firm with a certainty I didn’t feel. “We’ll definitely find him.” He seemed to calm down a little at my words, his wet eyes fixed on me. “Thank you. I’m Wyatt.” “Chloe.” The moment the elevator doors opened, Wyatt shot out like a cannonball. Since it was the middle of the night, he had to keep his voice down, calling out in a strained whisper, “Boxer! Boxer!” I wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. What kind of person names their dog Boxer? Maybe the dog ran away because he was embarrassed by the name. Wyatt’s search was… thorough. He lifted manhole covers to peer into the darkness. I half-expected that if a woman in a skirt walked by, he’d try to lift that too, just to check if his Boxer was hiding underneath. As he was prying open the third manhole cover, I finally had to say something. “You don’t really think he’s in the sewer, do you?” “You don’t know him,” he said, his voice strained. “Boxer’s smart. He knows how to hide from people.” Uh… smart is one word for it. Possessed is another. We searched the entire complex, but there was no sign of Boxer. Seeing the color drain from his face, I made a suggestion. “We’re not getting anywhere like this. I have a friend who runs a city-wide info group. When the sun comes up, we can post a lost dog notice. More people, more eyes on the ground.” Wyatt rubbed his face, defeated, and agreed. Under the pretense of adding him to the group, I got his number and added him on a messaging app. Then we parted ways in the elevator. Back in my apartment, I collapsed onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling, savoring the name on my tongue. “Wyatt…” After a moment, I got up and pushed open the door to the spare bedroom. “Boxer, dinner time.” 3 A Shiba Inu leaped up and started licking my face with an enthusiasm that would make a stranger think I’d raised him from a pup. He was just like his owner—far too trusting. I mixed some wet food with his kibble and set it down, stroking his round little head. “We’ll get you home in the morning, okay? Your brother’s handsome face was about to collapse from worry.” Boxer glanced up at me before burying his head back in his bowl. I hadn’t turned on any lights. The only illumination came from the faint glow of my laptop screen, which displayed an open document. Wyatt, Male, 23. Well-known esports streamer. Lives alone, Apt. 1601. Walks his dog late every night. Style is mostly athletic wear. Loves small animals, terrified of cockroaches… I thought for a moment, then added a new line: Cries easily. Quick to trust others. The document’s creation date, stamped in the lower-left corner, was a month ago. It had been edited a staggering 56 times. I opened my phone and sent a thank-you payment to my little brother. If he hadn’t snipped Boxer’s collar just before Wyatt got on the elevator, this whole thing would never have gone so smoothly. Wyatt treasured that dog too much. Time flew, and suddenly it was 7 a.m. The building’s security cameras were down for maintenance last night but would be back online at eight. I had to get Boxer back before then. I was about to leave when my eyes caught a small container on the table. I paused. Maybe… I should make the most of Boxer’s role in this. 4 Outside apartment 1601. I took a deep breath and knocked. A moment later, Wyatt appeared. “Boxer?!” I shifted the dog in my arms. “Surprised?” A radiant smile spread across Wyatt’s face. “Completely! How did you find him?” I lied through my teeth. “I went back down for another look after you went home. Lucky for us, he hadn’t gone far.” Wyatt’s lips were pressed together, his eyes overflowing with a gratitude so intense I thought he might bow. The instant he reached out to take Boxer, I squeezed the hidden plastic baggie under my shirt. A wet patch spread across my front. I let out a gasp. “He… he peed on me!” Boxer turned to look at me, his expression one of pure shock, as if to say: Seduce your man, fine, but why you gotta drag me into it? I shot him a reassuring look. Don’t worry. Once I’ve landed your brother, you’ll get a truckload of gourmet canned food. Wyatt was mortified. “I am so, so sorry. Boxer’s never done that before. He must have been scared from getting lost. Let me buy you a new outfit.” I waved his offer away with a magnanimous gesture. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go home and take a shower.” I took two steps, then patted my pockets with a look of dawning horror. “Uh… I was in such a rush, I forgot my keys.” My performance was Oscar-worthy. My sweet, unsuspecting rabbit of a target bought it completely and extended the wolf-inviting invitation. “If you don’t mind… you can use my shower.” 5 Standing in Wyatt’s bathroom, I let out a long, satisfied sigh. Could this be any easier? My Plan B was completely redundant. Just as I finished showering, there was a knock on the door. A pale, slender hand reached in. “This is new. You can wear it.” I took the shirt, my damp fingertips “accidentally” brushing against his palm. His hand froze for a second, then snatched back as if he’d been burned. A triumphant little smirk played on my lips. So shy. Calling him a little rabbit was an understatement. I slipped on Wyatt’s shirt and studied myself in the mirror. Something was missing. Ah, got it. I quickly wet the ends of my hair, letting droplets fall onto the front of the shirt, making the fabric cling to my skin. Wyatt was a head taller than me, so his shirt came down to my upper thighs, completely hiding the hot pants I wore underneath. It looked like I was wearing nothing but his shirt. Finished, I mentally cursed myself a hundred times. Chloe, oh Chloe, aren’t you afraid you’ll shorten your life with all these schemes? I pushed the door open, but Wyatt was nowhere in sight. Where’d he go? Just as I was wondering, he returned, laden with shopping bags. His eyes landed on me and stopped. His handsome face turned a visible shade of crimson. The bags in his hands clattered to the floor. “You… you…” I channeled my inner damsel, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes. “What’s wrong?” He waved his hands dismissively. “N-nothing.” He crouched down to pick up the scattered items. An opportunity for close contact like this? I wasn’t about to let it pass. I crouched down nearby to “help” him, sneaking glances at his perfect profile and the red tips of his ears. Only one item remained on the floor. Wyatt and I reached for it at the same time. And my hand landed directly on top of his. The timing, the place, the mood… it would be a crime if something didn’t happen, right? Just as I was about to make my move, a long, brown object leisurely crawled into our line of sight. My pupils contracted. I shot a look at my purse on the sofa. The small white box must have fallen out. Damn it. My Plan B has escaped. A cold sweat broke out on Wyatt’s forehead. He was frozen in fear. “Ch-Chloe,” he stammered. “There’s a cockroach.” My words of comfort were pure gasoline on the fire. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. It’ll leave on its own after it’s done eating the people.” 6 Wyatt let out a shriek that nearly gave me a heart attack. He shot up and sprinted toward the bedroom like his life depended on it. Halfway there, he skidded to a halt, turned back, and grabbed my arm, pulling me along with him. As I ran, I shed a few crocodile tears. If he knew I was the one who brought the cockroach, would he still be so chivalrous? Wyatt slammed the bedroom door shut with a loud bang and leaned against it, his face a mask of post-traumatic stress. I played along, clutching my chest and panting. After a moment, he finally realized something was off. “The window screens are closed, and I sprayed insecticide along the walls. How did a cockroach get in?” I spun a tale with a perfectly straight face. “You just went out, didn’t you? It must have followed you in then.” “That makes sense.” I had to bite my cheeks to keep from laughing. Was this guy for real? He was way too easy to fool. Wyatt’s bedroom was immaculate, everything in its proper place. In the center was a king-sized bed that looked incredibly soft. I walked over and sat on the edge, watching him with a playful expression. Now he remembered to be shy again. He stood in the corner like a schoolboy being punished, facing the wall. “Come sit down. You’ll get tired standing there.” Wyatt shook his head, his ears glowing red. “I’m not tired.” I didn’t push it. I made small talk, and after a while, I steered the conversation toward palm reading. “I know a little about palmistry. Want me to take a look for you?” That piqued his interest. He came and sat a careful distance away from me, holding his hand out. I took his hand, noting the well-defined knuckles, my fingertips tracing light patterns across his palm. I spoke with feigned authority. “You have a money-bag pattern. That means you’ll have great fortune. Your life line is clear and unbroken, extending all the way to your wrist. That predicts a long life. And your love line… it gets much thicker right here, at age 23. That means you’ll meet your true love that year. By the way, how old are you?” “…Twenty-three.” I feigned surprise, my face a picture of “Congratulations!” “Well, then it must be this year.” 7 Wyatt stretched his lips into a slight smile and was about to say something when we heard Boxer scratching at the door. He got up to let him in. Boxer, however, completely ignored his owner and trotted straight to me. He looked up at me with his big, soulful eyes, his mouth holding something. I understood immediately. I played along, holding my hand out in front of him. The silly dog opened his mouth, and a large, saliva-covered cockroach dropped onto my “life line.” …Was this Boxer’s revenge? If so, he won. I may not be afraid of cockroaches, but that doesn’t mean I want one sitting in the palm of my hand. In that instant, every hair on my body stood on end. I flung my arm so hard I nearly dislocated my wrist, feeling an urge to break into a frantic dance. In a stroke of terrible luck, the poor little roach was flung directly onto Wyatt. And then… it took flight. It buzzed around the room, looking for all the world like it really was about to eat someone. “Ah!” “Ah!” My scream and Wyatt’s nearly blew the roof off. We scrambled for the living room, a two-person stampede. But the doorway wasn’t wide enough for two adults to pass through side-by-side. I was practically lifted off my feet, my legs churning uselessly in the air. Just then, something pushed me from behind. I lost my balance and tumbled forward. Wyatt, quick as a flash, grabbed my arm and cushioned my fall with his own body. … My hands were pressed against Wyatt’s chest. I stared at his handsome face, now just inches from mine. Our noses were less than a centimeter apart. A slight tilt of my head and I could steal a kiss. The firm, resilient feel of his chest muscles telegraphed through his thin t-shirt to my palms. Even in this position, a stray thought crossed my mind: I guess you could say Plan B was an indirect success? My gaze traveled down his face, from his eyes to his nose, finally resting on his beautifully shaped, thin lips. With an opportunity this good, should I kiss him? Or kiss him? Or… kiss him? Wyatt’s heart hammered against my hands. His eyes darted away. “…The floor is cold. We should get up.” I agreed readily. As I moved my hands away, my fingernail “accidentally” grazed a very sensitive point on his chest. A low, magnetic groan escaped his throat. He had already started to push himself up, but that single touch sent him falling back to the floor. His clear eyes seemed to mist over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384317”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband is incredibly rich, but I don’t love him. Back in college, he moved heaven and earth to win over my roommate, Isabelle. Luxury gifts arrived one after another, and he once made a grand spectacle of delivering nine thousand roses to our dorm building. The rest of us in the dorm reaped the benefits, hauling armfuls of roses back to our rooms like we were raiding a botanical garden. But Isabelle remained completely unfazed. She even warned him, Damian Blackwood, to never show his face again. “He’s rich, and he’s not bad-looking. Are you sure you don’t want him?” I finally asked one night, a sheet mask clinging to my face. It was a question that had been bugging me for weeks. She had a face that could launch a thousand ships, yet she spent all her time with some upperclassman who was always working odd jobs. “No way. That type of man is too serious, too boring,” Isabelle said with a dismissive scoff. “If you want him, go for it.” I rested my chin in my hand, gave it a moment’s thought, and then nodded. “Alright,” I said. “I will.” 1 Isabelle’s expression shifted, but she said nothing more. After I finished my mask and washed my face, I headed downstairs. “She has a boyfriend,” I said, holding my umbrella out against the drizzle. I couldn’t help myself. Damian was standing under the dorm entrance, looking up at our window like a loyal puppy left out in the rain. He flinched, pushing the gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice laced with genuine apology. “I didn’t know.” Isabelle never even told him? His shoulders slumped as he looked down, about to toss the bouquet of black roses he was holding into a nearby trash can. It seemed like such a waste, watching the rain slick the dark petals. Black roses. My favorite. “Wait. Don’t throw them out. Give them to me.” He looked at the rain-soaked bouquet and gave a self-deprecating smile before handing them over. “Okay.” His white dress shirt was plastered to his torso, the wet fabric clinging to the hard lines of his abs. He was clean-cut, well-mannered, toned, tall, and surprisingly obedient. And most importantly, he was rich. Honestly, he was exactly my type. “Hey,” I called out as he turned to leave. He stopped, looking back with a lost expression. “I’m single,” I said, stepping closer and tilting the umbrella to cover him. “You should pursue me instead.” I wasn’t unattractive. I went to bed early, woke up early, and lived a disciplined life. I ran six kilometers every morning, ate healthy, and never missed my skincare routine. Far more guys pursued me than Isabelle, but I’d turned them all down. He took off his glasses, his gaze quiet and intense. Time seemed to stretch on, long enough for his assistant to rush over with an umbrella, long enough for his car to pull up to the curb. “Okay,” he finally said. 2 He took my number and left. I turned and went back upstairs. I’d looked into Damian Blackwood. He’d started his own company right after graduation, and it had been expanding ever since. Once he went back to inherit the Blackwood Group, he’d be obscenely wealthy. That’s why I could never understand Isabelle. Perhaps it was because my parents’ constant arguments about money had ended in divorce, but the most important criterion on my list for a partner was wealth. Money meant no fighting over bills and household expenses. Back in the dorm, Isabelle saw the roses in my hand, and her face soured. “You don’t have to worry anymore. He won’t be bothering you again,” I said, setting the flowers down and toweling my hair dry. I expected her to be relieved, but her expression only darkened. “You’re such a bitch,” she hissed. …What? Her voice was low, but it cut through the room, silencing everything. The towel slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a wet smack. I’ve never been one for violence, but in that moment, I slapped her. Hard. Neither of us was prone to losing control, but that day, her eyes held an emotion so intensely suppressed I couldn’t begin to decipher it. I didn’t want to. Our other roommates were horrified. Some tried to mediate, some held us back. One said I’d gone too far; another called Isabelle a hypocrite. But I truly didn’t understand. She said she didn’t want him, that his attention was a nuisance. So how, when I took him off her hands, did it become “stealing”? 3 She moved out of the dorm that day and we barely spoke again. I didn’t let it bother me. Some people whispered that I was immoral; others said the same of Isabelle. I still didn’t get it. She said his pursuit was a burden. She said no. So why was she angry when I said yes? But angry or not, she had no right to insult me. That, I couldn’t tolerate. I’d hear things occasionally—that she and her boyfriend were a perfect match, the campus power couple. People on the college forums were shipping them like crazy. Meanwhile, Damian and I started seeing more of each other. He wasn’t emotionally expressive, but he was impeccably polite and reserved, quickly becoming a hot topic on campus. I became a fixture at his side, and the rumors grew like weeds. I didn’t care. I knew what I wanted from the very beginning. On our wedding day, Damian was busy until the last minute. He finally arrived, standing before me in a perfectly tailored suit, looking less like a groom and more like a precision instrument that had just been calibrated. The wedding was extravagant. I didn’t recognize a third of the names on the guest list. I smiled for the cameras, my posture elegant, my performance flawless. I still don’t know how he convinced his parents to approve of me. There was no merger of family fortunes, no matching of social pedigrees. His parents were cultured, gracious people. They showed none of the disdain I’d expected, only offering us their sincere blessing. “We hope you will support each other and build a good life and marriage together.” Married life was comfortable. Damian was truly, obscenely rich. How rich? He owned companies all over the world, flew on a private jet, and signed deals worth hundreds of millions. Marrying him was the smartest decision I’d ever made. He didn’t understand romance, and he didn’t understand me. He never wrote me love letters or called late at night to say he missed me. On Valentine’s Day, he’d have his assistant send flowers. He was the quintessential stoic, all-business husband: calm, disciplined, and utterly unromantic. Perhaps he’d spent all his passion on Isabelle. Being with him was like being married to a money-making machine. “Your husband’s gone again? What’s the point of having all that money if he’s never home? You must be so lonely.” Lisa and I had been friends since childhood, but we’d drifted apart after I got married. The first thing she did whenever she saw me was complain about how little time Damian spent with me. I just smiled and took her for a ride on the private jet. How could I be lonely? The world was so vast, and I had my husband’s relentless work ethic to thank for the opportunity to see it. I could travel anywhere, anytime, and enjoy the absolute pinnacle of luxury. Lonely? Not a chance. 4 My best friend looked unsettled. She just shook her head. “I still think the most important thing for a couple is to be together, no matter what. To face the storms side-by-side.” …I didn’t get it. I was genuinely shocked. There were others who thought like Isabelle. But her words did leave a small sting. Was I the strange one in their eyes? “You’ve changed, Scarlett. You’re not the girl I grew up with anymore…” she said, her face flushing under my gaze. She huffed and left in a hurry. She was right. I had changed. At first, I’d take her on trips, cover all her expenses, and give her a supplementary card for spa days and shopping. But she always acted embarrassed, insisting on calculating her share of every cost, refusing to “take advantage” of me. No matter how many times I told her it was fine, no matter that Damian himself told her to spend more time with me and that he’d cover everything, she refused. My assistant would present her with a heavily discounted bill, and Lisa would stare at the price, her face tight with discomfort, then demand to see the original receipts, passive-aggressively suggesting the assistant was trying to scam her. Eventually, I stopped asking. My social circle had completely transformed after marriage. I was incredibly busy. Besides traveling, I enrolled in numerous classes—from floral arrangement and French to financial management. I studied diligently, not out of passion, but to ensure that if “something happened,” I wouldn’t leave with nothing. I’d heard that Isabelle and her college boyfriend had broken up. She was even working at a subsidiary of Damian’s company now. If he ever got nostalgic for his grand, dramatic first love and decided he wanted a divorce, I needed to be prepared. While getting half his assets was unrealistic, I intended to get as much as I possibly could. And once I got it, I’d need to know how to manage it. So yes, I was very busy. 5 I had just gotten back from a trip to Russia when Lisa came over. “Scarlett, your old flame is back! Your first love! And he’s super rich now.” Her eyes were gleaming. “You married Damian for his money, right? Well, now you can divorce him and marry Leo!” “He hasn’t contacted you all these years because he’s never gotten over you!” As luck would have it, Damian returned home the same day. He heard every single word. He stood in the entryway, his suit immaculate, his expression placid. There was no ripple of emotion in his eyes. Lisa spun around, her face instantly paling. She shot to her feet, forcing a nervous laugh. “Mr. Blackwood, you’re back… I was just joking, of course. Scarlett would never…” “I didn’t take it seriously,” he said, his voice calm. He walked in, still holding a gift box from his trip. “And I didn’t give it a second thought.” He lowered his eyes and placed the box on the coffee table in front of me. “You mentioned you wanted to try that mille crêpe cake from Hokkaido. I brought you one.” My gaze flickered, but my fingers didn’t move. My assistant always sent him my itinerary. He knew I was coming back today; he must have made a special trip. I knew his schedule was packed. Getting away couldn’t have been easy. “…Thank you,” I murmured. I heard his quiet “Mm,” and then he turned and went upstairs. I sat on the sofa, staring at the exquisitely perfect cake, and suddenly, it felt like I was chewing on sawdust.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384332”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Five years. That’s how long I’d been taking care of my paralyzed boyfriend, Perry. And finally, his legs were showing signs of life. Just as we were planning our wedding, Cara—the woman who put him in that wheelchair—walked back into his life, a child in tow. He kept postponing the wedding, making excuses about needing to help her and her son. I found him with his friend, clutching the latest draft from our wedding planner, ready to ask him for a final date. But I stopped short when I heard his friend, Cole, speaking in a low voice. “If she finds out you’ve legally become Andy’s father, Chloe might actually leave you for good,” Cole warned. “You need to tell her, and soon.” Perry, the man who was supposedly paralyzed, was standing by the window, looking out at the city lights. He just shrugged. “She stuck by me all those years in a wheelchair. You think she’d leave me over a few postponed weddings?” he scoffed. “My own father walked out on my mom and me. I’m just trying to give my son the love I never had. What’s so wrong with that?” My fingers went numb. I slowly twisted the ring on my finger, the one that had never quite fit. Perry, I thought, a cold certainty settling in my chest. This time, I’m the one who’s walking out. 1 The wedding was pushed back so many times that even the event company started calling. “Ms. Davis, have you and your fiancé confirmed a new date?” the planner asked, her voice laced with professional patience. I traced the indentation the too-tight ring had left on my skin. “No,” I managed to say, my throat tight. “You can keep the deposit. We’re canceling.” There was a stunned silence on the other end. “Oh. Of… of course.” From March to October, Perry had used his paralysis as the perfect excuse. The date on the invitations had been scratched out and rewritten so many times they were a mess. I wasn’t waiting anymore. Just then, my phone buzzed with a wall of text from him. The block of words made my eyes ache. I automatically scrolled to the end, my fingers moving with practiced exhaustion. “Chloe, let’s push the wedding back another two months. I really want to be standing on my own two feet when I marry you.” He’d always said he didn’t want me to suffer the whispers and pitying looks, the shame of having a husband in a wheelchair. Like a fool, I’d believed he was protecting me. I’d spent days glowing with pride at his consideration. But the truth was, the endless delays had already made me a laughingstock. I used to reply to him in seconds. This time, I just closed the message. I couldn’t bring myself to type “Okay” one more time. In this relationship, the moment I stopped pushing, everything would grind to a halt. For once, he called immediately. “Chloe? Is something wrong? You’re not answering my texts.” Was he worried about me, or just annoyed that I hadn’t instantly agreed to his demand? I dug my nails into my palm, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. “I’m fine, Perry. Nothing’s wrong…” He cut me off. “Let’s talk about the wedding later. I’m not coming home tonight. There’s a problem with the Crestview project, I have to go check it out.” He didn’t even wait for my response, just assumed my compliance. “I’ll bring you back your favorite perfume, okay?” I stood frozen in the hallway for a long time after he hung up. Cole came out of Perry’s office and nearly ran into me. His eyes widened. “You… you heard all that?” I nodded, my body feeling hollow. I shoved the wedding planner’s portfolio into the office shredder, the machine whirring to life and devouring our future. I turned back to Cole and put a finger to my lips. “Don’t tell him I was here,” I whispered. “Please. For old times’ sake.” That night, Perry, the man who was supposedly out of town on business, came home for dinner. His eyes fell on the simple omelet on the table. “This again? Can’t we have something else? I’m getting tired of it.” For years, whenever he came home drunk from a networking dinner, I’d make him an omelet. It helped with the hangovers. Every single time, he would smile and pull me close. “Chloe, you’re the only one who takes such good care of me.” Now, he was tired of it. I didn’t know if he meant the omelet, or the woman who’d made it for him every day for five years. Sensing my unusual silence, he tried to soften his tone. “Hey, I doubled my physical therapy session today,” he said, reaching for my hand. “I’m going to stand at our wedding, Chloe. I promise. It will be perfect.” He couldn’t even look me in the eye when he lied. I wanted to scream. Is it fun? Does it feel good to play me for a fool? But before I could say a word, a frantic knocking echoed through the apartment. “Perry! Perry, please!” It was Cara. “Perry, the landlord kicked us out! We have nowhere else to go! Can we just stay for a few days? Please?” Perry’s voice was ice as he told her to get lost, but he was already wheeling himself toward the door, faster than I’d seen him move in months. “Have you no shame?” he snarled, the calm man I knew disappearing into a storm of rage. “You think this is some kind of shelter for your mistakes? Cara, you make me sick!” He spat every venomous word he could think of. But then the door swung open, and he saw the child, Andy, shivering and soaked to the bone. The fury in his eyes flickered, replaced by a flicker of pity. His gaze darted to me. Perry was smart. He was trying to make this my decision. But I knew that if they set foot in this apartment, they would never leave. “I’m not okay with this,” I said, each word sharp and clear. Perry looked completely thrown, as if he never imagined I would say no. The little boy, Andy, suddenly clung to his leg. “Please, mister? Can we stay? Please?” Perry’s hand instinctively went to Andy’s forehead. It was burning hot. In an instant, he scooped the boy onto his lap. “Get the doctor on the phone!” he roared. He turned his anger on Cara. “What kind of mother are you? He has a fever and you let him get soaked in the rain?” But underneath the anger, his voice trembled with worry. “I didn’t know,” Cara sobbed, scrambling after him. In the chaos, I was completely forgotten, an invisible spectator in my own home. It turned out to be just a minor cold. When Perry finally noticed my red-rimmed eyes, he took my hand, his grip tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “I’ll find them a place as soon as I can. They’ll be gone in a few days, I promise.” But I knew he had already made his choice. I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. When I came back, Cara was sitting in my chair at the dinner table. Perry was patiently spoon-feeding Andy, his face lit with a tenderness I had never seen before. It was as if his earlier rage had been a performance. Cara shot me a triumphant, mocking smile before placing a piece of okra in Perry’s bowl. It was the one vegetable he absolutely hated. For five years, I’d begged him to just try it. “Can’t you make an exception, just for me?” I’d ask. He’d always refused. “I don’t like it, Chloe. Period.” But what he did next was a silent, deliberate humiliation. He ate it without a flicker of expression. Then he turned to me. “Chloe, make sure you clean the wheelchair tonight,” he said, his tone flat. “And disinfect my training equipment in the study.” He sounded like he was giving orders to the hired help. And in that moment, something inside me finally broke. A strange sense of release washed over me. Five years. It felt like a lifetime, but my real life was just beginning. 2 As I dragged my suitcase out from the back of the closet, my phone lit up with a series of videos from an unknown number. They were all recordings of Perry, in the dead of night, rocking a small child to sleep. Andy. My hands trembled as I opened the security app for our apartment. The footage was all there. Every night, for months, he’d bring me a glass of milk laced with sleeping pills, wait for me to pass out, and then leave. His legs were perfectly fine. He could walk. He had been able to walk for a long time. A crushing weight settled on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Tonight was no different. Perry handed me the glass of milk, kissing my cheek just like he always did. “Drink up and get some sleep.” The milk with the hidden dose. My hand shook as I took the glass, but I drank every last drop in front of him. “I thought you had to go out of town,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I passed it to Cole. It’s been too long since I spent a night with you.” The words were so sincere, but I knew better now. “Andy is just a little kid,” he continued, watching me closely. “You should be gentler with him. It would help you two get closer. You’re always saying how much you love kids. Well, here’s one right here for you.” He paused, his tone shifting. “I think you were a bit cold today. You scared him.” The accusation was unmistakable. He’d forgotten. The reason I always stared so longingly at other people’s children was because I had lost one of our own for him. But I was too tired to dredge up the past, too exhausted to scream and fight. I faked a yawn and gently pushed him toward the door. “I’m tired. You should get back to your work.” He lingered in the doorway for a moment, as if he was waiting for me to beg for a goodnight kiss, to wrap myself around him like I used to, clinging to him, asking again and again if he wanted to sleep beside me. He didn’t even notice that I’d skipped his nightly physical therapy routine. Perry just assumed the sleeping pills had kicked in. The second the door clicked shut, I scrambled to the bathroom, forcing my fingers down my throat until the milky bitterness came back up. A wave of nausea washed over me, a familiar feeling lately. My period was always irregular, but it had been a while. My hand trembled as I reached for the pregnancy test I’d stashed under the sink. Two pink lines. I had moved in with Perry five years ago to take care of him after the accident. Back then, I was so naive, so certain this would one day be our home, our family. I opened the closet. My clothes took up a tiny section. As I pulled my things out, one of Perry’s jackets fell to the floor. A ticket stub fluttered out from the pocket. A souvenir from Disneyland. The date was August 11th. My birthday. I had begged him for weeks to be home, just for that one night. He’d called late, saying he was swamped with work and couldn’t get away. While I waited for him, my birthday cake melted on the counter. He wasn’t working. He was at the happiest place on earth with Cara and her son. Out of all the hours in my birthday, he had only thought of me for the five minutes it took to make that phone call. Just then, I heard a child’s voice from down the hall, followed by Perry’s soft singing. “Daddy, can you sing me to sleep like this every night?” Andy asked. There was a pause. Then, Perry’s voice, full of a warmth he never gave me anymore. “Of course. Daddy will always be here for you.” He added, his voice dropping slightly, “But remember, when Aunt Chloe is around, you have to call me Uncle.” In the hallway, I heard Cara’s cheerful whisper. “Wasn’t my performance brilliant tonight? You owe me a reward for that, Perry.” “Cara, this is the last time I’m letting you get away with this! In two days, you’re…” He thought I was asleep. He didn’t even bother to lower his voice. The lie was a performance. And I was the audience. A dull, drilling pain started in my chest, a helpless agony that came with being so thoroughly deceived. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free, and I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle the sobs, my body shaking in the silent darkness. … My friend was supposed to pick me up at ten. In the few minutes I was in the bathroom, Andy had overturned my entire suitcase, stomping on my carefully packed clothes with his dirty shoes. He made a face at me. “You’re the bad woman who stole my daddy,” he sneered. “Get out of my house!” Over the years, plenty of people had shown up claiming Perry was the father of their child, all looking for money. The paternity test wasn’t even back yet. “He might not even be Perry’s son…” I started to say. Cara rushed in, clapping her hands over Andy’s ears dramatically. “Chloe, please, I’m begging you, don’t say things like that in front of him,” she cried, her voice trembling. “Andy’s been called a bastard his whole life. If you can’t accept him being here, I’ll take him and leave right now.” The word “bastard” seemed to pierce right through Perry’s heart. He wheeled himself forward, positioning himself between me and them like a shield. His face was a cold mask. “That’s enough. Why would you say something so cruel to a child?” he demanded. “Chloe, if you have a problem, take it up with me. Don’t take it out on a little boy.” His voice dripped with disdain. “I bought you those clothes. So what if he stepped on them?” In that moment, they looked like a family, united against an intruder. I felt like a complete and utter fool. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Fine, Perry. Think whatever you want.” “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re over.” 3 Perry’s brow furrowed in irritation. “Why do you always have to blow things out of proportion?” Just like that, I was the one being unreasonable, the one at fault. He sighed, a calculated show of patience. “Look, I overreacted. I’ll have Andy apologize to you.” Andy, who had been so defiant just moments before, instantly transformed. He burst into tears and mumbled an apology. “I’m sorry, Auntie. I was wrong.” But I was done compromising. With a final tug, I wrenched the bracelet from my wrist. It was a family heirloom his mother had given me the day I agreed to be his girlfriend. “Take it back,” I said, my voice flat. “He already said he was sorry! What more do you want?” Perry stared at me, his eyes filled with genuine confusion, as if he truly couldn’t comprehend what I was so upset about. “We’re about to get married, and you’re going to throw a tantrum and break up with me now?” “What if I asked you to send them away, right now? Can you do that, Perry?” I looked straight at him. Maybe it was the hormones, but I needed to hear his answer. One last time. If he said no, I would walk out that door and never look back. “This is my house. Who are you to tell me who can and can’t be here?” he sneered. “What’s next? Are you going to threaten me with the five years you spent taking care of me?” His voice turned venomous. “Did I beg you to do it? I don’t understand what you’re so broken up about. Chloe, you’re the one who cried and pleaded with your father to let you be with me. You were the one who chose to be this pathetic!” I flinched as if he’d struck me. Yesterday’s kisses and today’s insults, all from the same mouth. The acid of his words burned in my chest, sharp as broken glass. For a fleeting moment, I remembered how he used to look at me, his eyes full of adoration, how he’d sworn he would love me for the rest of his life. I remembered the long nights, helping him to the bathroom, and how he’d gently wipe the sweat from my brow, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again. “I’ll get back on my feet, Chloe,” he’d promised. “I will stand up and marry you.” Well, he could stand now. And the first thing he did with his recovery was weave a web of intricate lies to hide it from me. I wiped the tears from my face and forced a smile. “You’re right. I brought this on myself.” “I was a fool to waste five years of my life.” Even through the hardest days of his recovery, the endless physical therapy, the crushing financial strain, I never once cried or complained. Perry looked stunned, as if the reality of what he’d said was only just hitting him. Before he could respond, Andy started scratching frantically at his arms. “Daddy, it’s so itchy!” he cried, pointing at me with a trembling finger. “Auntie made me eat peanut brittle. I told her I didn’t want it, and she said she would hit me if I didn’t!” He threw himself into Perry’s arms. “Daddy, I’m so scared.” Cara lunged at me, shoving me hard. “If you have a problem with us, why don’t you just say it? Why do you have to resort to these disgusting little tricks? I told you last night that he’s allergic to peanuts!” Her voice rose to a hysterical shriek. “He’s just a child! How could you be so cruel?” My lower back slammed into the armrest of a chair. Pain exploded through me, and my legs gave out. I collapsed to the floor. “I didn’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I didn’t even know he had an allergy…” But Perry’s next action destroyed any lingering hope I had left. He slapped me, hard, across the face. “Andy is four years old! Why would he lie?” he roared. “If you didn’t want him here, you should have just told me! You didn’t have to attack a child!” Within seconds, angry red welts were breaking out all over Andy’s skin, and he began to struggle for breath. I looked up at Perry, my cheek stinging. “How can you trust her? The woman who put you in a wheelchair for five years?” His gaze was like ice, shattering the last of my pride. “That’s between her and me. When did it become your place to judge?” I thought five years of unwavering devotion would mean something. I thought it would earn me his trust, his heart. I was wrong. I was never anything more than a convenience. And I was so, so glad I had decided to leave. In his panic, Perry shot up from the wheelchair, scooping the boy into his arms and running for the door. He wasn’t even pretending to be paralyzed anymore. Cara scrambled after them, sobbing. “Perry, he’s going to be okay, right?” Even in his frantic state, he paused to reassure her. “He’ll be fine. I’ll get the best doctors in the city!” I remembered falling in the shower just two days ago. The pain in my spine had been so intense I’d burst into tears. Perry had stood in the doorway, his eyes filled with conflict, before finally yelling for the housekeeper to help me up. Even with me hurt on the floor, he wouldn’t break his cover. But a simple allergic reaction from Andy was enough to throw his entire world into chaos. I tried to push myself up, using the staircase for support, but my arms had no strength. I slumped back to the floor. That’s when I saw it. A crimson stain was spreading on the pale floorboards, a slow, dark river flowing from between my legs. My hand was steady as I pulled out my phone. “Dr. Evans,” I said, my voice empty of all emotion. “I need you to schedule me for a D&C.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384349”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To deal with my father, I decided to buy myself a girlfriend. Just as I was about to hand her the one-million-dollar check, the shy, timid girl in front of me suddenly became cold and haughty. A live-chat feed flickered into existence before my eyes, comments scrolling frantically. [The heroine is reborn! This time, she has to hold on tight to the male lead!] [Get lost, you nouveau riche side character! The heroine and her childhood sweetheart are the true OTP.] [She only got with the side character because she desperately needed money. Missing out on her first love was the biggest regret of her life.] I blinked, looking up from the ghostly text. I saw Crystal Nam’s cold, arrogant expression instantly melt into tenderness the moment she laid eyes on her childhood sweetheart. Well, what do you know. The heroine has been reborn. Reborn into a life of crushing debt and poverty. … “Shawn Jennings, don’t you dare think you can insult me with your dirty money! I’ll figure out my mother’s medical bills myself!” Crystal slapped the check out of my hand. She then walked straight past me and threw herself into Leo Miller’s arms. “Leo, I finally see what’s in my heart. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” She clutched his sleeve, her eyes shimmering with tears, as if they had just survived a life-and-death parting. A murmur went through the surrounding crowd. The comment feed before my eyes scrolled even faster. [Go, girl! So brave, confessing to the male lead right after being reborn!] [His ears are turning red! Their failure to get together in the last life was his regret, too.] [LOL, look at the side character’s face. Last time, she only put up with him to save her mom. Now that she’s chosen true love, he must be completely stunned. Serves him right.] I was a bit stunned, but not because of Crystal. It was because this comment feed was apparently predicting my entire life. According to them, I was the supporting male character in a novel. A vicious, rich second-generation heir who used money to buy ten years of the heroine’s youth. And now, Crystal was reborn. In her previous life, I had sponsored her to fend off an arranged marriage my family was pushing, but I ended up falling for her over time. She, in turn, endured a humiliating decade with me to pay for her mother’s treatment, all while burying her unspoken love for the boy next door. She blamed me for destroying her true love, and she despised my arrogant, demanding personality. She always felt subservient and without dignity in our relationship. Yet, she had also grown accustomed to a life of luxury and was unwilling to lose me, her personal cash cow. Two years after graduation, news of Leo Miller’s marriage sent her into a spiral. She got blackout drunk and accidentally drowned in our swimming pool. Now, reborn, the first thing she did was seize the love she’d missed, publicly confessing to Leo to fix her past regrets. I almost laughed out loud at the accusations on the feed. If the last life was really as they said—she took my money, used my connections to start her own company and become a CEO—then what was wrong with expecting her to be a little gentle and considerate to me, her benefactor? Cooking a meal now and then, saying a few sweet things… was that too much to ask? Wasn’t that part of the deal? Did she expect to spend my money while I worshipped the ground she walked on? Forget it. I’m done being the sucker. With a cold smirk, I tossed the check to a girl who was watching the drama unfold nearby. “Who told you I was going to pay for your mom’s treatment?” I drawled. “I meant it for her.” I turned to the new girl. “Hey, beautiful. Interested in a relationship? The kind that comes with a million-dollar monthly allowance.” [What’s happening? Why did he give the check to someone else? Isn’t he in love with the heroine?] [Don’t panic. It’s just a trick to make her jealous. No way he likes someone else. We all saw how he simped for her in the last life.] [Relax, the heroine won’t fall for it. Just wait for him to get shot down.] Crystal’s expression froze, a flicker of disbelief and confusion in her eyes. She clearly hadn’t expected me to choose someone else. But with her beloved right in front of her, and the thrill of rebirth overwhelming her, she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She eagerly turned back to Leo, and they began their heartfelt reunion. Meanwhile, I took my new acquaintance, Stella, out for a meal. In my past life, I had no idea what I ever saw in Crystal. It was just a way to avoid an arranged marriage; anyone would have done. I had more than enough money. My family owned three gold mines, for God’s sake. I was the sole heir to the city’s wealthiest man. I’d never had to put up with anything I didn’t want in my entire life. Why would I hang myself up on one crooked tree? If love was something that grew over time, then I’d just stop putting in the time. Problem solved. At the restaurant, I took a good look at the girl across from me. Stella Lowe was, in every way, just as stunning as Crystal. An elegant face, almond-shaped eyes, and skin as smooth as polished jade. My mood lifted instantly. I tossed the menu to the waiter. “Bring us one of everything that’s expensive and well-reviewed.” Just as I said that, the restaurant door opened. In walked the reborn Crystal, hand-in-hand with her precious childhood sweetheart. The moment she saw me, her brow furrowed, her expression a mixture of annoyance and contempt. She clearly assumed I was here waiting to ambush her. “Like gum on my shoe, I just can’t get rid of him,” she complained, loud enough for me to hear. I scoffed but didn’t bother to reply. This was the best restaurant in the area; even the appetizers cost a hundred bucks. It was perfectly normal for me to be here. Crystal, on the other hand, probably didn’t have two hundred dollars to her name, and Leo was just a regular student. I was very interested to see how they planned to pay their bill. Crystal sat down and casually ordered seven or eight of the signature dishes. Then she looked at Leo with a deeply affectionate gaze. “Leo, the food here is just okay. You’ll have to make do for now. Next time, I’ll take you to France to taste the freshest foie gras with the finest wine. And after this, we’ll go to a luxury boutique and get you a few custom watches. A man’s watch is his reputation, after all.” Leo was dizzy from the sudden windfall of promises, his voice booming with excitement. “Crystal, it’s only our first day as a couple. Isn’t this a bit much?” “It’s nothing,” she said, shooting a haughty glance in my direction. “Someone else will be happy to foot the bill.” Leo’s face flushed with excitement. “Crystal, I… I got a gift for you, too.” He secretively pulled out a red plastic bag. Crystal’s eyes lit up. The comment feed was screaming. [AAAAAHHH, they just got together and he’s already giving her the family heirloom? This is too sweet!!] [What is it? A jade bracelet? An emerald? Last life, Shawn’s ‘heirloom’ gift was that Pigeon’s Blood ruby necklace from a European royal family, worth over a billion.] [He may not be as rich as the side character now, but they have love! She’ll love whatever he gives her.] The red plastic bag was festive and unassuming, but heavy in his hands. Crystal opened it with great anticipation. Inside was a heart-shaped rock. Leo blushed. “I found this by the river where we used to play as kids. It’s the only heart-shaped one. I took it home and cleaned it, wanting to give it to you the day I confessed. Do you like it, Crystal?” The comment feed went silent. I had to dig my nails into my thigh to keep from laughing out loud. For a college freshman, a heart-shaped rock is a sweet, innocent gesture. But Crystal had the soul of a nearly thirty-year-old woman trapped in an eighteen-year-old’s body. For the past decade, she had lived in luxury. The clothes she wore, the cars she drove—a single accessory on her purse was worth a normal person’s annual salary. Even the pool she’d drowned in just hours ago was temperature-controlled. For hands accustomed to silk and cashmere to now touch a river rock… the contrast was jarring. At that moment, I slid a delicate diamond bracelet across the table to Stella. “I picked this up at a jewelry store this morning. A little something for our first date. Do you like it?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384365”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel