Category: English

Twin campus heartthrobs played a prank on me, pretending to be the same person and dating me. The older brother was cold during the day, the younger one passionate at night. I saw comments saying: 【The younger brother is really trying hard for his brother and the heroine’s happiness.】 【To prevent the supporting female from discovering his brother is dating the heroine, he endures disgust to entangle the supporting female at night, so pitiful.】 I didn’t cry or get angry. Young people are full of vigor and have beautiful faces; I’m not picky. At night, I casually said to the younger brother: “We’ve been dating for three months, shouldn’t we take it a step further?” He froze. I feigned ignorance, tilting my head: “Didn’t you agree during the day?” During the day, I said to the cold older brother: “You’re so good at night, I like that side of you more.” The older brother was furious. 1 I discovered something was off with Cole one night. Usually aloof, he had taken off his jacket, revealing a black tank top over his taut chest. He knelt on one knee, arms wrapped tightly around my waist. Like a fluffy puppy, he nuzzled his head against my stomach. “Sister, don’t go.” His eyes were wet, begging me to get him drunk. “Spend more time with me.” Usually, Cole buttoned his shirt all the way to the top. Always pursing his lips, holding books, saying he was busy going back to self-study. It didn’t feel like dating; it was more like dealing with a foolish nouveau riche who sponsored his tuition. I rubbed his head and said gently, “You’re about to miss the dorm curfew. I’ll drive you back to school.” Hearing this, the arms around my waist became scalding hot, hugging even tighter. He nervously said, “Sister, can I sleep here tonight?” Just as I was about to speak, I accidentally saw the comments: 【OMG, the younger brother pretending to be Cole is so disgusting I have goosebumps.】 【Hahahaha, Clay is sacrificing too much for his brother’s love this time.】 My eyes changed as I looked back at the man in front of me. I slowly lifted his chin. Looking at this beautiful and youthful face. Young people don’t know how to hide things. Behind the clinginess, coquetry, and eagerness was stiffness and resistance that couldn’t be hidden. Since we’re playing, let’s play fair. I smiled: “Okay.” I leaned in. Clay thought I was going to kiss him and instinctively dodged. But I just kissed his forehead. He was stunned for a moment. My thumb gently rubbed the corner of his eye. “Dummy. I won’t get you drunk; too much alcohol is bad for your health.” Clay flushed from his ears to his neck. He froze for a second, looking at me in disbelief. I gently said: “Go sleep in the guest room after showering.” Attacking the heart requires a slow approach. 2 During the day, Cole looked at me hesitantly. “Yesterday, we…” I feigned confusion: “What happened?” Seeing I hadn’t noticed, Cole relaxed and returned to his aloof self. “Nothing.” I propped my chin and looked at him. At the edge of his collar, half a hickey was faintly visible. Seems like first taste of forbidden fruit, no experience in covering up. “What’s that?” Cole frowned and popped his collar, “Nothing, just a mosquito bite.” 【Laughing to death, that was clearly done by the heroine last night. This poor couple finally had time for a date.】 【Yeah yeah, wait two years when Cole graduates and is financially independent, they won’t have to hide anymore, finally can break up with that old woman!】 Old? I’m only twenty-eight. I raised an eyebrow in displeasure. Cole whispered: “You’re jealous again. Don’t always be like this; it’s embarrassing if classmates see.” I replied absent-mindedly: “Yeah, I’m even jealous of mosquitoes.” At night. The younger brother disguised as Cole came again as expected. There was also a fake pinch mark on his neck, red and swollen. I beckoned him: “Come closer, I’ll apply medicine for you.” Clay leaned into my arms. I applied some ointment and gently blew on it. Clay, burying his head in a daze, suddenly shuddered. His ears were red again. I softly said: “Don’t hurt yourself again in the future.” He was flustered: “How do you kno—” Halfway through, he quickly stopped. He just softly said: “Okay, thank you, sister.” Clay leaned closer, gently hugged me, and lied smoothly: “I just… wanted sister to care about me, wanted you to spend more time with me, so I hurt myself on purpose.” I didn’t expose him: “Is that so? How to spend time?” Clay stammered: “Uh… uh… kiss?” I leaned over. He thought I would only kiss his forehead. But unexpectedly, I kissed his lips. Clay’s pupils constricted. I looked down at him and whispered: “Open your mouth, remember to breathe.” Clay trembled, instinctively hugging me. Like a drowning person drifting with the current, frantically clinging to me, this driftwood. Even the tip of his tongue was green and stiff. I moved away. He stared blankly at me, chest heaving. I pretended to be puzzled: “It’s not the first time, why are you so nervous?” Clay came back to his senses: “Huh?” I stopped while I was ahead. Teasing a bit was enough. I smiled and got up to leave, giving him time to buffer. 【This is his first kiss!】 【Look, Clay is so disgusted he froze completely. For his brother’s happiness, it’s not easy for him.】 【But why do I feel his expression looks more like reminiscing?】 … 3 Clay and I began to kiss frequently. He was passionate and loved dressing up. His figure and appearance were attractively good-looking. I liked it very much. So I bought him many clothes and accessories. Just like carefully selecting coating for my own car, spending some money, ultimately pleasing my own eyes. At first, Cole during the day would wear some clothes I newly bought to cover up the truth. A few days later, he stopped. I casually asked: “Where’s the couple ring I gave you yesterday? Why aren’t you wearing it?” Cole, who was reading, suddenly looked up. He froze. “What ring?” He only said half a sentence, then had to suppress it forcefully. Swallowing a belly full of dissatisfaction. He frowned and lowered his eyes: “Probably forgot it.” At night. Clay’s index finger still wore that shiny couple ring. He smilingly hugged me fully. Softly said: “Sister, the ring you gave me, I will always wear it carefully. Spend more time with me, okay?” I smiled and said okay. When Clay was showering, I saw his phone chat records. His brother asked a bit irritably: “Where’s the couple ring?” Clay: “What ring? Didn’t see it?” Cole was silent, sent after a few minutes: “Clay, she is just a superficial bad woman.” Clay replied fast: “I know, bro. I’m just playing along with her, don’t worry, I have my pace. You and sister-in-law just hurry up and live happily ever after.” After a long time, Cole sent another message. Clay hadn’t seen this one yet. “You guys shouldn’t have done anything, right?” I looked at the phone and smiled. Typed reply: “Bro, didn’t do anything shouldn’t be done.” What shouldn’t be done, what should be done? Based on my understanding of Cole, his excessive self-esteem probably wouldn’t allow him to ask explicitly. Cole indeed held back forcibly, didn’t speak again. I casually deleted these two messages. Clay walked out wet, wrapped in a bath towel. I looked at him. I knew, he was intentional, even brought a bit of vague and inexplicable competition. I softly said: “Want to sleep in the master bedroom?” Clay hesitated for a second. Eye corners turned red. He coughed and said softly: “Okay.” 4 Clay sat on the edge of the bed helplessly like a wet puppy. Nervous and stiff. I saw comments wailing. “Clay you are not this dull usually, do you really have to sacrifice to this extent?” “Calm down you guys. Cole hates the supporting female very much, so he lied before that he is very traditional and won’t do that with others before marriage! The supporting female wouldn’t possibly force herself onto him knowing this, right.” So that’s it. Saying traditional is fake, boldly cheating behind back is real. Saying young and a bit afraid is fake, wanting my money is real. I smiled. Childish tricks, really interesting. But I didn’t intend to force myself. What’s the fun in forcing, seducing him to beg me actively is the most interesting. Clay took a deep breath, finally determined to speak: “Disclaimer first, I won’t—” But I spoke ahead of him: “I still remember you said you have no experience and are a bit afraid. Don’t worry, we won’t do it tonight.” Clay, who thought he would be entangled, had no use for his full belly of drafts. He gave an empty “oh”. I said softly: “I just thought you were a bit lonely and wanted to accompany you more. Wanted to make you happy, make you have no nightmares, make you see me every morning. Cole, I have no other meaning, I just want to try my best to make you happy.” I held his hand, expression sincere, “I don’t know what happened to you recently to make you suddenly a bit fragile. If it’s inconvenient to say, it doesn’t matter, but if there’s really any difficulty, never shoulder it alone, I want to help you.” Clay couldn’t lift his head listening. He stammered, showing a burst of guilt on his face. “Sorry…” “Fool, didn’t do anything wrong, why apologize.” I kissed him smilingly. Clay’s eyes were dark, staring at me, complex emotions brewing into a whirlwind. His throat rolled, subconsciously opened his mouth. Another kiss, deeper, longer. I sat into his arms. Pecs were nice. His skin began to burn. “Sister…” he whispered忍耐地, “You are too close.” “Don’t worry, I have no other meaning, I just want to give you a warm hug.” This hug was tight, long. So long that Clay felt the moisture in his chest burned clean, almost suffocating. Young and vigorous, some things couldn’t be hidden, couldn’t be endured. I pretended to be surprised and looked down, Clay hastily hugged my head, not letting me look down. Blushing, he clumsily seduced me: “Actually, what I said before wasn’t—” I interrupted him again, smilingly said: “You’re right, what you said before is important, I fully respect your wishes.” I decisively let go of him, “Sorry, endure it, just sleep.” Clay: “……” Ten minutes later, in the silent darkness, Clay, who couldn’t sleep due to hardness, couldn’t help speaking. “Sis, when did we plan to get married before? After graduation?” I was surprised: “Not that fast, you seemed to say at least five years later.” “Five years.” Clay took a deep breath. Thinking I was completely asleep, he muttered expressionlessly: “Five years? What was he thinking?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388593”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After the divorce, I got the shot. The Erasure Shot. It wiped away the five years I’d waited for my husband, Declan, the arms lord who betrayed me. It erased the sheer, gut-wrenching agony of calling him for help when I was violated, only to be told, “Stop faking it.” I disappeared, took a new name, and went to a remote teaching post in the North Carolina Appalachians, a place where no one knew who I was. Three years later, I was teaching a class when someone pushed the door open. She stared at me, her eyes wide with shock. “Lila, you’re alive? Why the hell didn’t you find Declan? Do you know he’s been looking for you for three years? He almost killed himself for you.” I looked back at her, blankly. “I’m sorry, I took the Erasure Shot. I don’t remember any of that.” “Declan who?” The classroom fell into a suffocating silence. An inexplicable panic surged through me, and I instinctively turned toward the window. Beyond the glass, against the reckless burst of spring color, a man stood. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was staring at me with a lethal intensity. The woman who brought him, a teaching supervisor, whispered that he was my ex-husband, Declan. He had once loved me like a religion. Killed his own father for me. Before he went to prison, he gave me the shot. “Lila, you aren’t dirty. My father is the filth.” “Forget this. Keep moving forward.” But I had forgotten everything—the abuse, the prison sentence—except, somehow, the shadow of him. After his release, he saw how skeletal I was. He dove headfirst into the Tri-Border Region and became the biggest arms trafficker in Southeast Asia. Everyone said I was Declan’s untouchable nerve, the treasure he held in the palm of his hand. Until the day I found out I was pregnant, and walked in on him and another woman in a scene that looked like a desperate, final goodbye. I rushed him, screaming like a lunatic. He looked at me, his gaze vacant, and his voice was devastatingly calm. “I told you to forget all of it. Why did you wait for me?” “Lila, are you really that helpless without me?” I froze. Then, I grabbed the syringe of the Erasure Shot and plunged it into my arm. Declan, this time, I will forget you completely. 1 Declan saw my movement and lunged, slapping the syringe out of my hand. “Lila, have you lost your mind!” He locked his hands around my wrists and kicked the small vial across the floor. “How dare you!” The fury in his eyes was volcanic. Before he could catch his breath, there was a soft thud. His most capable enforcer, Sierra, had driven a combat knife into her own side. Blood immediately soaked the black fabric of her tactical gear. “Declan… if Lila can’t bear to look at me, my life isn’t worth a damn.” He released me and moved to press his hands against her wound. Blood spilled between his fingers. He scooped her up and ran, his empty gun holster banging against the door frame. I took two steps to follow him. He spun around by the elevator doors and shoved me away. “Do you think I have to be tied to your side until I suffocate?!” “Lila, are you really that helpless without me?!” He viciously kicked the first aid kit. Vials and gauze rolled everywhere. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t trying to die. I was just trying to forget. But the elevator doors had already closed. That night was a blur of hazy, tearing sleep. I kept dreaming of young Declan, the stolen Harley, parked outside the school gates. He’d tilt his chin. “Hop on. I’ll show you the biggest sky you’ll ever see.” I would rest my head against his back. He’d ride fast, yelling across the empty highway. “Lila, I’m going to stick to you for life!” The dream was so sweet that when I woke up, the pillow was soaked with tears. Declan was standing by the bed. I hadn’t heard him enter. His expression was darkly complex. “Lila, Sierra lost her uterus. She can’t have kids now.” His voice was raw. He raised his hands and gripped his head, as if enduring an unimaginable pain. I could sense his devastation. The room was dark. No lights were on. He lifted the blanket and slid in, pulling me against his back the way he used to. His palm landed softly on my spine. But the next second, a searing, fracturing pain exploded from my little finger. “Ah!” I curled into myself, screaming. He had brutally snapped my little finger back. “Lila, this is what we owe Sierra.” He groaned, a choked sound, and I frantically reached for him… His own little finger was bent back at the exact same angle. Both our hands were slick with blood. I didn’t understand. Why did her self-mutilation demand this payment from me? I just wanted to leave. But he held me tighter, his lips pressing a ghost of a kiss into my hair. “I won’t go see her again.” His voice was utterly exhausted. “I’ll just stay here with you.” Yet, a used condom lay scattered beneath the nightstand, still damp and smelling of a perfume I didn’t own. I couldn’t believe him. My feet were ice cold. He pulled them into his lap and rubbed them, warming them up little by little. “Lila, go to sleep.” I didn’t struggle anymore. I only had one thought: This is the last night. But in the early hours of the morning, his phone exploded with a frantic ringtone. “Declan, Sam’s burning up, a hundred and four. I would never bother you… but he’s crying for his father…” The normally composed woman sounded completely broken. The raw cry of a mother was devastating. Declan bolted upright, the bandage on his hand tearing open. The cold air rushed in when he threw the covers back. I shivered. My heart was colder. Sam… he’s her kid? Is he Declan’s? We’d only just reconnected when he got out of prison. Declan didn’t dare look at me. He snatched his jacket and bolted for the door. A searing pain erupted in my lower abdomen. My hand came away slick with blood. “Declan… help me…” But he slammed the bedroom door and locked it from the outside. “Lila, I swear this is the last time—” His voice was a snarl through the wood. I didn’t have the strength to listen anymore. Before my consciousness dissolved, I plunged the small, hidden vial of memory restorative into my arm. I’d known he was different. When he held me tight at night, he always frowned. “Why are you so thin?” Because he was used to holding the full, supple waist of another woman. He knew my stomach had been shot years ago and I suffered from chronic reflux. He was used to staying out late, claiming he’d taken on a new female enforcer. When he spoke of her, there was a light in his eyes—the same light he’d had when he looked at me the day he was released. I had collected enough disappointment. I had finally decided to leave. I woke up to the smell of antiseptic. Declan’s second-in-command was pacing the floor, clutching my chart. “Ma’am, we have a problem with the cargo at the dock. Declan will be here any minute…” I offered a weak smile and pushed past him. He left me. I knew where he was going. My lower abdomen ached. I leaned against the wall and moved slowly. As I passed a nearby room, I heard suppressed sobbing inside. “Declan, when can Sam and I finally stand by your side, out in the open?” My heart felt like it was being sliced open. After a long silence, I heard Declan’s controlled voice. “Sierra, forget me.” “My family owes Lila. As long as she’s alive, I can’t leave her.” Owes me? Declan, was it all just guilt for these years? My earliest memories started ten years ago. Everything before I was eighteen was a blank fog. I just knew I had to wait for Declan. The sealed memories cracked, and I remembered everything in a rush of pain. I remembered my foster father’s lecherous eyes, and the sight of young Declan’s trembling but resolute knife. I slid to the floor, catching a glimpse through the door crack of Sierra lifting her head to kiss him. He didn’t pull away. “One last time, Declan… then I’ll leave.” His movements were almost violent, a desperate, final goodbye. I watched, numb, silent tears streaming down my face. True love, it seemed, was a primal, impulsive thing—not the cautious, detached care he showed me. I had lived with a catheter for the first few years, and though he nursed me meticulously, he resisted my touch. Now I understood. Perhaps he had never truly wanted me. As I started to leave, a nurse rushed past and knocked me down. “Who’s out there?” Declan yanked the door open. A woman’s lingerie was still draped over his shirt. I finally began to cry out loud. He saw the crumpled discharge papers for a D&C in my hand and froze. “Lila, you… you were pregnant?” “Why… why is this happening now…” My eyes dimmed, but he immediately rushed to explain. “That’s not what I meant.” The hallway was quiet, suffocating. We used to have so much to talk about. I smiled, a soundless, weeping laugh. “If you don’t want it, I’ll just get rid of it.” He grabbed my wrist, shaking his head frantically. His eyes were pleading. “Lila, let’s go home.” He forced me into the car, but didn’t drive toward the manor. “Let’s go get some tacos, okay?” He gripped the steering wheel, nervously watching my expression. I didn’t answer, my heart aching with small, sharp pains. When we were poor at eighteen, our dates were cheap tacos. After his prison release, our few late-night moments of intimacy were often in the parking lot of that tiny taco joint. Declan took a number and put his arm around me as we waited in the noisy crowd. He’d been in the arms business for so long that his presence was a chilling threat. People automatically retreated a few feet from us. It was clear nothing could ever go back to the way it was. “Number 37!” As I started to walk, his phone vibrated again. “Declan, Sierra just signed the fight-to-the-death waiver for The Octagon!” His body went rigid. His knuckles were white on my shoulder. I smiled. “Go. Don’t worry about me.” He turned and walked away again, disappearing down the street without a glance back. Declan drove like a maniac, running seven red lights, cutting the two-hour drive down to forty minutes. My head was spinning. The side effects of the memory restorative were crushing my chest. I instinctively grabbed his sleeve. “Please don’t leave me here alone…” His brow furrowed, and his voice was tightly controlled anger. “I’ve brought you here how many times? Can’t you find your way around?” “Are you a three-year-old, needing someone to hold your hand?” He was moving too fast. He took a corner and vanished. I stood there, bewildered. My memory was failing again. I really couldn’t remember the way to the fight arena. I stumbled, asking a few service people, but the crowd shoved me through a partially open door. Just as I started to apologize, I saw Sierra, bandaging her wounds. She was covered in blood, slumped on a couch. Her ribs looked terrifyingly exposed. She saw me and struggled to sit up. “Ma’am, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have shown up in front of you two…” “I’ll give Declan back to you. I’ll disappear right now—” Before she finished, she grabbed my hand, placed a combat knife in my palm, and plunged it toward her own chest! Warm blood splashed my face. I looked up in terror, straight into Declan’s furious eyes. “Lila, have you had enough?!” “Just leave me alone, will you? Leave Sierra alone!” He shoved me onto the cold floor, then turned to pull Sierra into his arms. She was soaked in blood, yet she spoke in a faint, wavering breath. “Declan… don’t blame Lila. I deserve this…” Declan looked like a wolf protecting its cub. His eyes were scarlet. “Lila, can you just stop being so hysterical!” The words, spoken in pure rage, were sharp as daggers. “I told you to forget everything! Why did you have to wait for me?!” “With all the girls in the world, why did my father have to target you… If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t be dead!” Boom. My mind went blank. My head slammed against the cold tiled floor. I started trembling uncontrollably. All the shattered memories came rushing back, each piece soaked in blood. Tears poured down my face. I curled up, sobbing, “Not me… don’t come near me… please don’t…” Declan’s eyes flickered with a flash of regret. He looked at me, then at the nearly unconscious Sierra in his arms. He hesitated for two seconds. Then, he lifted her and ran for the door. “Call a doctor! Get every available surgeon down here!” He was gone again. I spent the entire night curled up in the darkest corner of the locker room, the air thick with blood and disinfectant. Declan found me at dawn. I was frozen stiff. His eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions. He was silent for a long time. “Lila, let’s go to the coast.” I shifted my dry eyes, looking at him woodenly. “You used to say you wanted to get married on the beach.” He reached out to touch my face. I turned away. I truly didn’t remember. The sea, the wedding—it was all washed away by the Erasure Shot, leaving only the relentless, tearing ache in my chest. While Declan packed, I looked at my phone’s memo app and dialed a number. “Professor, you mentioned that teaching spot in the mountains… Is it still open?” When I got a positive answer, I let a small smile touch my lips. It was the first time I’d smiled in days. The day we arrived at the coast, the wind was terrifying. I bent down to pick up a seashell, and when I looked up, I saw Sierra, wearing a lifeguard uniform. I couldn’t clearly remember who she was, but my heart was throbbing with pain. I turned to leave, but she grabbed my hand and yanked me, pulling both of us into the raging waves. “Declan, help! Lila jumped into the ocean!” Saltwater flooded my nose and mouth. My ears were ringing. I fought desperately to get up, but her hands were relentlessly pressing me down into the depths. Just as I felt the onset of asphyxiation, a massive splash erupted beside me. Declan pulled Sierra out first, then hauled my nearly unconscious body onto the sand. Once on the beach, Sierra sobbed, her face deathly pale. “Declan… I don’t know why she pushed me…” “After I left, I had no income, and Sam needs school. I had no choice but to be a lifeguard… please don’t let them fire me…” She was choking on her tears. Declan gently patted her back, his eyes full of sympathy. I was curled up, clutching my lower abdomen, which was throbbing with a heavy, sickening pain. I couldn’t utter a single word. Declan, believing I was guilty, turned on me, his face granite. “Lila, when will you stop with these games?!” “I brought you to the ocean. What else do you want?” “Sierra isn’t like you. She doesn’t have a safety net… she fought tooth and nail to live this long. Do you have to force her to die?!” He grabbed my wrist with punishing force and raised his hand to strike me. I closed my eyes, allowing the cold despair to wash over my entire body. Just then, a shriek went up on the shore. “Blood! She’s bleeding!” “Call an ambulance, fast!” I looked down, dazed, and saw a rush of bright red blood spreading down my leg, staining the sand. The water was too cold. The baby was gone. I stared blankly at the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room, my heart utterly silent. Declan stood by the bed, his gaze cold. “It’s probably for the best it’s gone. Save us all the trouble of having a child like you.” I looked at him, completely lost, and tilted my head slightly. “Who are you?” The air in the room froze for a few seconds. His face darkened violently. “Lila, stop playing dumb!” “You ruined my life and kept me bound for years! How dare you pretend to forget now!” He slammed his fist into the wall, over and over, until blood seeped from his knuckles. Was I… such a terrible person? My heart contracted painfully. I instinctively reached for his shirt, but he shoved my hand away, his eyes blazing red. “Get out!” He slammed the door behind him. The silence in the room returned. I clutched my aching lower abdomen and slowly moved out of the room. As I passed the room next door, I heard a muffled, passionate argument. “Sierra, I can’t just abandon her…” The man’s voice trembled, as if he were fighting an impossible instinct. “I know you think I’m dirty, that I clawed my way out of the slums… Fine! I’ll disappear!” The sound of shattering glass followed. The love between the people in that room was a roaring torrent. Hot and fierce. How could a man like that ever have been my husband? I pressed a hand to my throbbing heart and walked down the deep corridor. The hospital was in a secluded area, and without realizing it, I wandered into a dark alley. A few yellow-haired young men, their cigarettes dangling from their lips, shuffled out, grinning suggestively. “Hey, beautiful. Alone? Come play with us.” I remembered nothing, and the panic made me turn and run. But my post-op body was weak. I was quickly slammed against a damp brick wall. As my dress ripped, I fumbled for my phone and shakily dialed the speed-dial number. “Someone is… attacking me… help me… please, I’m begging you…” “Lila, are you sick in the head?” The phone was kicked away, but his chilling voice echoed down the alley. “Last time you were attacked, I killed my father. Who do you want me to kill this time?” My blood froze instantly. My heart stopped. The busy signal was abruptly cut off. I closed my eyes in complete despair. A mile away, Declan hung up the phone and rubbed his temples, consumed by a familiar, frustrating anger. He figured, at most, Lila would be back by nightfall. She always depended on him, she couldn’t live without him. But the night grew deeper. The corridor remained silent. Sierra came, holding Sam, asking him to tell their son a story. He waved her away and walked onto the balcony to light a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked in years; Lila couldn’t stand the smell. But now, his chest was burning like fire. And she wasn’t here. Declan stared into the smoke, his eyes tumultuous. After this, he swore, he would guard her with his life. At 3:00 AM, his second-in-command called in a panic. “Declan, you need to look at the security feed… I think something happened to Ma’am.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388609”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My fiancé slept with my sister. On the day of our engagement party, I heard their tearful confessions of love with my own ears. It was enough to make me physically sick. 1 Ethan and I had been together for seven years, ever since our sophomore year of college. Bella followed me around like a shadow, calling him “Ethan” in that sweet, syrupy voice for seven years. In my eyes, they were always just brother and sister. Yeah, right. Ethan might have seen her as a little sister, but what she saw him as… well, that’s a whole other story. 2 Bella is my half-sister. Same dad, different moms. My parents divorced early. I stayed with my dad. Because I had a talent for dance, he doted on me. Bella was cute when she was little—chubby cheeks, babbling, drooling, always wanting to sleep in my bed. But once she hit kindergarten, the cuteness wore off. She mastered the art of playing the victim early on— “It’s my fault, not Harper’s.” “Daddy, if you’re going to punish someone, punish me!” “You guys are fighting… I’m scared, sob.” “If Harper likes it, let her have it!” “I didn’t mean to… Harper, can you forgive me?” I didn’t know the term “Pick-me Girl” back then. How could such a small child have such manipulative thoughts? But my dad’s attitude towards me shifted from good to bad, and then from bad to worse. Plus, my stepmom was her biological mother. My position in the house became precarious. I poured everything into my studies and dance, hoping my dad would love me a little more. It was useless. He always thought I was bullying Bella, and that Bella was suffering in silence. 3 You think I didn’t guard against Bella when I started dating Ethan? The first two years were fine. I was in college; she was in high school. But when I graduated and she entered college, she had more time, and the drama started. Every weekend, when Ethan and I had a date, she would show up rain or shine to “bond” with her big sister. If I tried to send her away, she’d turn on the waterworks: “Harper, do you hate me now? Tell me what I did wrong, I’ll change! …You’re breaking my heart!” I’d roll my eyes. “Do you have to be a third wheel?” Bella would look at Ethan with red-rimmed eyes, pleading for help. Ethan always played the peacemaker, saying Bella was still young, that she just looked up to me, and telling me not to be so harsh on her. We fought about this several times. He said I was unreasonable for holding a grudge against a kid. I said he didn’t know the half of it and had no right to judge. We almost broke up. But we didn’t. After that, whenever Bella clung to me, Ethan stopped interfering and let me handle it. 4 By the way, I’m a dancer. My name is Harper Vance. I work for the State Ballet Theater, practically a principal dancer. Ethan works in IT, a software engineer. He’s a project manager at a tech startup—young, promising, and still has a full head of hair. Everyone said we were a perfect match. Countless people asked when we were tying the knot. We decided to have an engagement party first. Ethan and I booked a ballroom at a local luxury hotel. We chose it for its layout—a grand staircase and a mezzanine. Crystal chandeliers, a spiraling staircase. The ground floor for the guests, the upstairs suites for changing and resting. I was in the dressing room, touching up my makeup. “Harper, your dress is stunning! It shows off everything perfectly! Unlike me, stuck in t-shirts and jeans every day.” “That lipstick shade is perfect on you! Is that the one everyone’s talking about? I’m so clumsy with makeup. Harper, will you teach me later?” I looked at her through the mirror. “Sure.” She beamed with joy. Sometimes, I wondered if she was genuinely oblivious or just that good at acting. For years, my dislike for her was palpable. How could she still pretend we were best friends? “Harper, it’s almost time. I’m going down to keep Mom and Dad company!” Bella turned and ran out. The makeup artist watched her leave and sighed. “Ms. Vance, your sister is so… innocent and lively! Everyone else is in evening gowns, and she’s the host’s family wearing jeans.” I smiled but didn’t reply. some dirty laundry shouldn’t be aired. 5 Ethan was late coming to get me. He wasn’t picking up his phone. I called a friend downstairs who told me he had come up a while ago. A while ago? A woman’s intuition is a powerful thing. In that moment, my mind flashed to Bella. Without hesitation, I stood up, gathered my skirt, and walked out. Two doors down from the dressing room was a lounge. The door was ajar. Voices drifted out. I walked closer— “Ethan, this is the last time I’ll call you by your name… soon you’ll be my brother-in-law… it hurts so much!” “Harper is so lucky to marry you… You’re such a good man. She must have saved the galaxy in a past life.” “Ethan, what do I do? I really, really like you…” “Bella, don’t do this. Your sister and I are about to get engaged…” The voices stopped. I hesitated for two seconds, then kicked the door open. The two of them were tangled on the sofa. Ethan was pressing Bella down, kissing her. His hand was sliding under her shirt, lost in the moment. My blood froze. This was our engagement party. Did they have no shame? “Harper…” Bella saw me first. They scrambled off the sofa in a panic. One with hair like a bird’s nest, the other with a crumpled suit. “Sister, it’s not what you think!” “Harper, listen to me!” Ethan stepped in front of Bella, shielding her. That protective stance said everything. How long had this been going on? Even if today was the spark, the fuel had been piling up for a long time. I looked at Bella and forced a smile. “It’s not what I ‘think,’ it’s what I ‘saw’!” Then I looked at Ethan, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Your mouth says no, but your body seems pretty honest… No need to cancel the party, just swap the bride! Ethan, we’re done. Pretend we never met.” I turned to leave, tears instantly blurring my vision. Years of love, gone just like that. Bella rushed out and grabbed me, dropping to her knees with a thud. She slapped her own face. Smack! The sound echoed. The noise downstairs died down. In the sudden silence, only Bella’s crying could be heard: “Harper, forgive us just this once… I didn’t mean to! I was ready to call him brother-in-law! We… we just couldn’t help ourselves… we didn’t go all the way… Please believe me, I’m begging you. Go get engaged to Ethan, okay? Sob, sob…” I laughed out of pure anger. After this, how could we get engaged? Did she think I had no dignity? Ethan stood at the lounge door, not taking a single step forward. He looked at me, then at Bella. His eyes were full of heartache—for her. My heart sank to the bottom of the ocean. “I didn’t realize you two were so deeply in love that you ‘couldn’t help yourselves.’ You… you guys are really something!” I laughed through my rage and turned to run downstairs. 6 3-inch heels. A floor-length gown with a train. I lifted the front of the skirt, but someone stepped on the back. I tumbled down the stairs like a ragdoll. The physical pain was sharper than the gasps from the crowd. Everyone rushed over. I struggled to stand, only to realize my right ankle wouldn’t move. I’m a dancer. I know the difference between a sprain and a bone injury. My heart went cold. “Call an ambulance! Now!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388625”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My secret Twitter account (“finsta”) was exposed. It was a digital diary of my unrequited love for my foster brother over the years. But for my feelings, he showed only disgust. “Put away your dirty thoughts. You’re just an orphan my family took in out of pity. My parents tolerate you; I just barely tolerate looking at you.” Later, I packed away all my adoration for him and curled up in the arms of his sworn enemy, Jax, seeking warmth. I was wrapped in Jax’s leather motorcycle jacket. My foster brother’s face turned pale. In his usually calm voice, fury burned: “Summer, get out of his arms.” Jax smirked devilishly: “Sorry, bro. My grip was too strong; I think I tore her dress.” 01 “The weather is nice today. Tonight at dinner, I’ll tell Ethan to make you eat more meat. He says you’re too skinny, like you’re malnourished.” “Mom says I’m the girl she raised personally, and she loves me. When I’m legal, she wants to set me up with Ethan. Closer than close. I like Ethan, do you think he likes me?” A girl’s voice, feigning innocence but dripping with malice, rang out. Bella sat next to Ethan, legs crossed, looking at me with a sneer. “Summer, do you like Ethan?” The VIP room went silent instantly. Everyone’s eyes fixed on me. I don’t know who laughed first, but soon everyone in the room was mocking me. “Summer, the Sterling family was kind enough to adopt you, and you want to be Mrs. Sterling?” “Hahaha, what did Ethan do to deserve that? Look at her, she’s so plain. Definitely not Ethan’s type.” Amidst the laughter, I lowered my head, gripping my white dress tightly. My fingers curled and uncurled. Finally, I mustered the courage to look at Ethan. He was the boy I had called “brother” for ten years, the only light in my dim youth. The dim lights of the club fell on him. He was handsome, noble, out of place in this noisy environment. Sensing my gaze, Ethan reached out and took Bella’s phone. His long fingers swiped across the screen. The white light reflected on his face. I saw the impatience in his expression. “Summer.” Ethan put the phone down on the table, his eyes filled with blatant disgust. Everyone in the room quieted down, making his voice exceptionally clear. He said, “Put away your dirty thoughts. Or get the hell out of the Sterling house.” At that moment, my mind went blank. Tears spilled uncontrollably from my eyes. So Ethan hated me this much. Even my purest affection was “dirty” in his eyes. 02 Today was Bella’s birthday. An hour ago, she suddenly told me Ethan was hurt and asked me to bring him home. I didn’t think twice and rushed to the address. When I got there, I found Ethan wasn’t hurt at all. That was when Bella said she found something fun. “I found a secret Twitter account chronicling a sister’s love for her brother. Guess whose it is?” I had vaguely guessed what she was doing. She always liked Ethan. I refused to help her get with him many times. Now that she found my account, naturally, she wanted to humiliate me publicly. Realizing her intent, I made an excuse to leave, but she beat me to it and read the tweets aloud. Then came that scene. I gritted my teeth, wanting to escape, but my legs felt heavy as lead. Tears fell like broken beads. Someone spoke up for me: “Ethan is so excellent, and they grew up together. Isn’t it normal for her to like him?” Bella scoffed, “The Sterling family took in this orphan. Letting her call Ethan ‘brother’ was kindness. Not only is she ungrateful, but she dares to have these thoughts? How is that normal?” The person who spoke up was silenced by her retort. Ethan’s gaze had been fixed on me from the start. Suddenly, he extended his arm and pulled Bella close. Bella looked surprised and leaned into his embrace. I saw him frown slightly, then return to normal. Suddenly, with his other hand, he picked up a half-empty water bottle and threw it at my feet. “Why aren’t you leaving? Standing there to disgust me further?” 03 At that moment, my self-esteem seemed to be discarded on the floor like that water bottle. I released my grip on my dress, letting go of the thread holding my teenage heart. I looked up, eyes blurry with tears, at Ethan one last time. His cold face seemed merely a larger version of the boy I met ten years ago. “I’m sorry.” I stared straight at him, my body trembling uncontrollably. Then I heard my own voice: “I won’t like you anymore, Ethan.” The words bypassed my brain, triggered by a self-protection mechanism. After speaking, I quickly left the room. Out of the corner of my eye, Ethan seemed to want to say something, but Bella pressed him down. She clung to him, her voice sweet and soft: “Ethan, since you hugged me, my birthday wish is for you to be my boyfriend.” Cheering erupted in the room, the lively atmosphere restored instantly. I wiped my tears messily, my heart aching. Looking down at my white dress and flat figure, I thought of Bella’s beauty and sex appeal. No wonder Ethan liked her. But did liking her mean he had to trample on me? I walked out of the bar, found some steps, and sat down. Logging into my secret Twitter account, tears falling on the screen, I deleted the posts one by one. “Watched my brother play basketball today. He made a three-pointer, and all the girls screamed. I was a little jealous, but I love him so much.” “He ate the bento I made. So happy. He must be obsessed with my little bear rice balls too, right?” With every deleted tweet, I chanted in my heart: “Don’t like Ethan anymore.” I don’t know how long passed. The tears dried on my face in the wind. I put away my phone and stood up. The sudden movement made me dizzy. Suddenly, a group of men appeared in front of me, staring at me fiercely. “Miss, you’ve been sitting here for so long. We charge a fee.” 04 The men were obviously thugs. The cold wind had cleared my head. Giving money to these people was useless; who knew what they would do? I took out my phone and Venmo’d them all the money I had. “This is all my savings. Consider it a drink on me, big brothers.” My hands shook as I spoke, hoping they only wanted money. The leader looked at the five thousand dollars, grinning to reveal yellow teeth. “Looks like the Sterling family treats their adopted daughter well. Five grand just like that.” As soon as he spoke, I realized they weren’t here for money. His gaze scanned my body nakedly. “Someone told us to take good care of you, so you stop having thoughts you shouldn’t have.” My heart shook. I remembered what Ethan said in the VIP room. Did he send these men? Did he hate me enough to do this? Looking at the men closing in, a chill ran through me. Ethan wanted to ruin me completely, to cut off all my hope. “I… I really don’t like Ethan anymore. I’ll call him right now! Please don’t touch me!” In desperation, I used Ethan’s name, but the man slapped the phone out of my hand disdainfully. He grabbed my wrist, leering. “You don’t like him? Good. Then like me. I’ll make you feel good!” I struggled hard, but his strength only grew. The more I fought, the more excited he got. I opened my mouth to scream for help, but the street was empty. No one could save me. I was in despair. “What are you doing?” A bright light suddenly shone. A motorcycle stopped nearby. Like a god walking against the light toward me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388641”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The killer, on the run for years, suddenly posted a confession online. He wrote that he had a terminal illness and didn’t have much time left. He wanted to apologize to the last victim, the young woman who died tragically by his hand. “There were twenty-three victims,” the post read. “Twenty-two of them were hardened criminals. Wicked scum.” “Only the last one, the young woman, was innocent.” “I was misled and killed an innocent person. I regret it deeply.” “I hope that whoever reads this can help me find her body.” “She deserves to be buried properly, to finally rest in peace.” The post didn’t gain much traction; most people were skeptical. Some said the poster was clearly desperate for attention. Others cursed him for exploiting tragedy for clicks. Only one person replied. “Lily Ashton, stop the act. I know it’s you.” 1 All these years, Owen Archer’s profile picture hadn’t changed. It was still the photo I’d taken of him back then. But his username was now a couple’s name, matching Daisy’s. It seemed they were still going strong. As I watched, a few more snide comments appeared below. The killer, frustrated, started explaining himself. “I’m really not lying. The last person I killed was a young woman.” “She looked so young, barely twenty.” “She was about to get married, but she died by my hand because of a terrible mistake.” “God, the regret is suffocating.” “I shouldn’t have listened to those rumors. I shouldn’t have killed an innocent life over a misunderstanding.” To convince the public, he detailed the time, place, and the full process of the murder. How he broke her legs so she couldn’t run. How he made her suffer the prolonged agony. “It was deep winter, and the ground was frozen solid.” “Disposing of her body was difficult, so I had to take extreme measures.” “Her organs were washed into the river, and the bones were scattered nearby.” “That area is wasteland, nobody goes there. If you look now, you should still be able to find them.” “I’m dying, and I don’t have the strength. I can only beg for your help.” “I know I deserve to die, but I just want her soul to find peace.” Such a complete and detailed account of the crime was undeniable proof. The tide in the comments section began to turn. The post’s heat level exploded. People were frantically tagging online police, digging for any useful information. Some voluntarily organized a “Bone Search Squad” to give the poor girl a proper burial. Amidst the diverse reactions, Owen’s comments stood out, defiant and off-key. He stubbornly posted the same messages over and over again under the killer’s thread. “Lily Ashton, stop the act. I know it’s you.” “We’re grown-ups now. Your little games won’t fool me.” “You were the one who left me first. Nothing you do will ever make me forgive you!” “Also, Daisy and I are getting married soon.” “I hope you’ll stop this desperate attempt to break us up.” Watching that string of comments, I could almost feel his anger. Owen thought I was trying to lure him back, to rekindle our past. He believed I had deliberately disguised myself as a killer to post this, just to get his attention. But what he didn’t know was that I… …was the twenty-third body.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388657”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My high-achieving brother became a self-made billionaire. I, on the other hand, was vying for “Funniest Heir of the Year” with my personal philosophy: The Butt-Slide Down the Mountain. The family couldn’t stomach it anymore, so they shoved a suitable bride from a prominent family my way. On our wedding night, I looked at my stunningly beautiful new wife, Seraphina Beaumont, and embraced my philosophy of ‘lying flat.’ I sprawled on the bed and waved a dismissive hand. “I’m exhausted. You can handle the family quota from here. Just let me know when we hit goal.” The next afternoon, my parents’ frantic, consecutive calls blasted me awake. My new wife had gone out to a party. When I reached the private room, she was in the middle of what looked like a challenge with her male best friend, Brandon Cole, to break the Guinness World Record for the longest kiss. Seeing me, Brandon awkwardly pulled away. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Leo. Truth or Dare.” My eyes fell on the split corner of her lip. I pulled out my phone. “Oh, I thought maybe your family also had a reproductive quota.” I raised my phone, flashing a cynical smile. “Just a friendly reminder,” I said, snapping a photo of the two of them. “The stork requires a standing ovation, not just a lock of lips!” 1 They shielded their eyes from the flash and jerked apart. I offered a lazy, unapologetic shrug. “My bad. Forgot to turn off the flash.” The private room immediately erupted in noisy explanations. Seraphina’s face shifted from pale to crimson. “I didn’t! This—this is a cut I just got! Brandon was putting salve on it!” she insisted, pointing furiously at her damaged lip. My friends and hers rushed to back her up. “It’s true, Sinclair! Look at her lip. She lost the dare, so we were all chanting, messing around.” “Seriously, Leo, the Guinness Record is over five hours. How could they possibly be trying to break it?” “We—we accidentally shoved Sera into Brandon’s arms! Don’t get the wrong idea!” I pocketed my phone, yawned, and even squeezed out a couple of physiological tears. “Sure. I believe you.” I waved a hand lazily toward the crowd, letting my gaze linger on Seraphina’s face—a furious scarlet that somehow made her look even more vividly alive. “Let’s go. Quota… I mean, Mom and Dad are pressuring us to come home for dinner.” As I turned, Brandon’s hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. “Leo Sinclair, wait.” His expression was severe, his voice deliberately low. “You need to apologize to Sera for what you just said. You completely disrespected her and our friendship.” I looked down at his hand gripping my wrist, a slight frown creasing my brow. “Let go.” “Not until you apologize!” Brandon tightened his grip, playing the gallant protector. I sighed, slowly reaching into my other pocket for my phone. “Hello? 911? I’d like to report a sexual assault.” I put the phone to my ear, speaking clearly. “Yes, an unknown male is forcibly restraining me and preventing me from leaving. The address is…” Brandon dropped my arm as if scalded, his face a picture of disbelief. “Are you insane?” I lowered the phone, which hadn’t even started ringing, and glanced at him, then at the rest of the silent room. “My wife has a cut, and Brandon here suggested using his mouth to ‘cure’ it. Isn’t that sexual assault?” I paused, letting the silence draw out. “I respect that you didn’t escalate it, but consider this—” I swept my gaze over every person there. “Every single one of you in this room is an accessory to marital sabotage.” 2 Seraphina finally lost it, rushing forward. “Leo Sinclair! Do you have to humiliate people like this?” “Right, I forgot. You, the cold and selfish one, wouldn’t understand the meaning of friendship!” It was truly hilarious. Getting called out for crossing a line and immediately throwing a tantrum? I thought I’d married a compliant, pretty face. Turns out she was a wild rose determined to climb over the fence. I, Leo Sinclair, might be a little Zen, a little lazy, but I’m not a doormat. I let out a low laugh, scanned the room again, grabbed the girlfriend from Finn Davis’s arms, and shoved her straight into Brandon’s embrace. “Go on, Brandon. You two are friends, right? Kiss her!” Brandon instinctively caught the girl, completely bewildered, and looked helplessly at Seraphina. Finn immediately leaped up, trying to snatch his girlfriend back. I blocked him. He yelled at Brandon. “Get your hands off her, Cole! Let go of her now!” Only after Finn had his girlfriend back and was soothing her did an excruciating silence fill the room. Finn stood there, his fists clenched. He understood: I was forcing him to back down. He ignored Seraphina’s frantic signals, picked up a bottle of liquor, and downed three rapid shots. He took a deep breath, his voice strained. “My apologies, Leo. I didn’t think a stupid game would cause such a misunderstanding. We were just trying to protect Sera.” “This has nothing to do with anyone else here; friends mess around, it happens. I’ll take three more shots. Let’s just move past this, okay?” Before I could even speak, I felt the combined glare of everyone in the room, a collective look of disgust directed squarely at me. Seraphina was shaking with rage. She violently slapped away my hand, which I had offered to lead her out. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air. “Brandon is severely allergic to alcohol! He could die, do you hear me?” She demanded, the tears in her eyes not of sorrow, but of pure, furious humiliation. She rushed to Brandon’s side, checking him anxiously. “Brandon, are you okay? We need to go to the emergency room right now.” Red hives were already breaking out on Brandon’s neck, but he shook his head, refusing. He looked up at me, the picture of an injured victim. “Leo, you don’t have to forgive me, but don’t blame anyone else… and especially not Sera.” “I’ll keep my distance from Sera from now on.” He made a move to push Seraphina away. I let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Promises are cheap, but men of their word are few and far between. You better keep that one.” “Enough!” Seraphina cut me off sharply. “Are you done with your petty games? I need to get him to the hospital. Is that acceptable, or do you have a problem with that too?” She stared at me, defiant. “I married into your family for a business merger, but I wasn’t sold into slavery! I have my freedom!” Watching them lean on each other and walk out, I honestly felt like the star of a low-budget, highly humiliating circus. What the hell was this? Did my parents secretly tell me to break up a pair of lovers? I sullenly rubbed my nose and went home, only to be greeted by the sight of my father’s thick, expensive leather belt. “Where is she? You useless boy!” my father roared. My brother, Reid, stood nearby, practically savoring my misfortune. I jumped onto the couch, frantically protesting my innocence. “Dad! That’s domestic violence! I’m going to hit up TikTok and expose this toxic family structure!” “Ouch—” When he decided I’d been hit enough, Reid shoved his phone into my face. “The story on the circuit is you bullied your wife’s friend into alcohol poisoning, and he had to get his stomach pumped. Our family isn’t a bunch of thugs, Leo. Look at the mess you’ve made!” My head was spinning. “I thought the Beaumonts were your business partners! I’m just an idle guy, I wouldn’t dare actually get angry!” “This is pure slander!” At this point, I understood exactly what had happened. They were crying foul before the fact. I pulled down my trousers to check the angry red marks on my backside, two lines of genuine tears streaming down my face. My father showed no mercy. “Tomorrow, you will go out and salvage your image with your in-laws. Don’t cause any more trouble!” 3 Waking up alone on the second day of my marriage, my first order of business was to pick up my new wife from the hospital. I stood by the bedside, watching Seraphina sleep with her hand pressed against Brandon’s. I rested my chin on my hand, pondered for a moment, then took a discreet camera from my pocket and fixed it atop the cable box. Seraphina stirred and woke up. The sight of me immediately made her face fall. She pulled my arm, dragging me toward the door, and the moment we were outside, she angrily yanked her arm free. “What are you doing here? Haven’t you hurt Brandon enough already?” My ancestors said, ‘Don’t argue with a fool.’ I took a deep breath, remaining perfectly calm. “It’s the official post-nuptial family gathering today. You didn’t forget, did you?” She shrugged, unfazed, even finding my presence unnecessary. “It’s just a formality, Leo, a social charade. We’re pawns in a merger, nothing more.” Seraphina gave a bored tug on the corner of her mouth. “It doesn’t matter if I’m there or not.” I gave an exasperated sigh. Smart, but not smart enough—at least, not as smart as me. “The freedom you have now? Your parents bought it for you on that social charade. You’re a pawn, but a very expensive one.” I spread my hands, not forcing the issue. “Different stages of life require different trade-offs. If you think you can openly defy your parents now, I won’t stop you.” “Think carefully, Wife.” With that, I turned to walk away. I silently counted to three. One… Two… “Wait! I’m coming with you!” … I still overestimated her. Before the event was over, a phone call from Brandon was all it took for her to ditch me. “Cover for me. Brandon says he’s feeling emotionally vulnerable.” She looked at me, completely serious. “You’re the one who caused the harm, Leo. Someone has to make amends.” The female protagonist of the post-nuptial event had run off halfway. Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont immediately fixed me with a condemning stare. “Leo, Seraphina married you to be the Lady of the Sinclair family, not your prisoner.” “She has always been perfectly sensible. You terrorized her friend into the ER and then washed your hands of it. She is now cleaning up your mess.” “Frankly, Leo, your behavior—the public humiliation, calling the police, the ER visit over a joke… How can we possibly entrust our daughter to you?” The Beaumonts spoke with an air of immense difficulty, as if pushed to their limit. “We heard you inherited twenty percent of Sinclair Corp’s shares.” “We believe you should transfer ten percent of those shares into Seraphina’s name.” “With a tangible, real connection, perhaps you’ll be more inclined to consider her feelings and act with more maturity.” The old foxes had spun the narrative and shifted all the blame onto me in a few sentences. And now they wanted a tangible asset as a reward. They wanted to have their cake and eat mine, too. I quietly activated my phone and pulled up the live feed from the camera I’d installed. Seraphina had reached the hospital room. She was naturally removing her formal dress, leaning in close to Brandon. I smiled blandly at Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont. “Father-in-law, Mother-in-law, it’s not that I don’t want to give it to you. I essentially got these shares for free just by being the ‘Second Young Master.’” “But I have to say, your daughter might not be as ‘sensible’ as you think.” On the screen, Brandon was tearfully wrapping his arms around Seraphina. “Sera, I always felt like you had to fight for what you loved. But maybe I fought too slow. Now it’s too late.” Tears welled up in Seraphina’s eyes, too. Brandon paused, then looked at her with a pleading gaze. “Sera, I don’t ask for much. But would you… would you tattoo my name? On your… on your…” His hand moved subtly down toward her lower abdomen. Seraphina’s face instantly flushed crimson. The Beaumonts, their faces thunderous, slapped the phone out of my hand. “That’s disgusting! Utterly indecent!” I didn’t argue, slowly picking up my phone. “Father-in-law, Mother-in-law, about those shares… shouldn’t you be giving me some?” 4 Seraphina was confined to the Beaumont residence, supposedly to be ‘re-educated’ before her return. The Cole family, to save face, brought Brandon over to apologize. But the apology was hollow, and Brandon’s face was a mask of sulky defiance. “Leo, my friendship with Sera is genuine! I swear there’s never been anything inappropriate!” I leaned in close, whispering with malicious softness. “So genuine that it requires your name tattooed on a private part of her body to prove it?” Brandon’s face went instantly white as a sheet. If I hadn’t been concerned about my own family’s reputation, I would have broadcast that revelation to the entire city. This time, Brandon’s apology was genuine. He couldn’t maintain his composure any longer and practically fled in terror. When the ‘re-educated’ Seraphina returned, she was noticeably quieter. In fact, one month later, she gently laid her hand on her stomach and announced to me: “I’m pregnant!” These four words detonated a bomb in the Sinclair household. My brother, Reid, is a staunch DINK (Double Income, No Kids) and a confirmed bachelor, so the burden of procreation had fallen entirely on me. My parents instantly treated Seraphina like royalty. I had to admit, she was efficient. One time and done. My father saw the cynical smirk on my face and smacked me on the head. “Go find something to do, Leo. Stop hanging around here being a bad omen!” I shrugged, pouting. It was a performance, and the stage had been set. All I had to do was wait for the curtain call. The opportunity arrived quickly. Sinclair Corp was hosting an important business gala that required spousal attendance. Seraphina claimed her growing bump felt a bit uncomfortable and insisted I stay with her for a while before we left. Before we set off, I was sprawled on the couch playing a game. Seraphina handed me a glass of milk. “Leo, you’ve been playing for so long. Tired? Have some milk so you’ll have energy for the party.” I gave her a lazy smile, tipped my head back, and downed the milk in a few large gulps. Seraphina took the empty glass, murmuring softly. “Okay, rest for a minute, then we can leave.” She practically fled the living room. The drug’s effect was faster and more potent than I expected. I slumped into the sofa, closing my eyes, letting the heavy, dragging sensation wash over me. I registered people approaching, lifting me, and stuffing me into a car. Bumps, darkness, and shards of muffled conversation drifted into my awareness. “Don’t worry, it’s all arranged. Veronica loves the lean, clean type.” “He won’t remember, will he?” “The dose is guaranteed. When Veronica is done having her fun, he’ll wake up convinced it was a blackout and a massive mistake…” Veronica? The infamous politician’s daughter—the one rumored to have a powerful background, questionable kinks, and a history of destroying the lives of several young men? Ha. They found me a perfect destination. It was a brilliantly cruel plan. If I were permanently incapacitated, or worse, if I lost the ability to father a child, the one in her belly would be the sole heir. Too bad. Brandon and Seraphina had underestimated the depth of my family’s emotional intelligence. They were thoroughly wicked, but not nearly clever enough. The car suddenly came to a stop. … The gala had stalled. Sinclair Corp’s partners were exchanging puzzled looks. My brother, Reid, coolly took the stage to manage the situation. “Ladies and gentlemen, my brother, Leo, informed me he had a special gift prepared for his in-laws.” “Please bear with us for a moment.” My father scowled, ready to storm off and find me. “That good-for-nothing son! What trick is he playing now?” “Reid, too! He spoils him rotten!” My mother gently held him back, smiling ruefully. “It’s no use fighting it. And honestly, I’d prefer he never grow up.” Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont were sweating profusely, exchanging nervous glances with Seraphina. Seraphina gave them a shaky, reassuring smile. The next second, a bloodcurdling shriek pierced through the ballroom’s top-of-the-line sound system. Seraphina’s face instantly went paper white.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388673”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I have always hated my sister. I never understood why, even though we are twins, she has everything—beauty, popularity, grades—while I am the complete opposite. She is the school’s golden girl, the valedictorian-to-be. And me? I’m fat, not particularly smart, and introverted. My only friend hangs out with me just because she hates Lily as much as I do. People at school don’t believe I’m Lily’s twin sister. They often mock me with exaggerated laughs: “Oh my god, Emma, is Lily really your sister? You two are like night and day.” “Emma, why is your sister so perfect and you’re so… tragic? Did you mutate in the womb?” Of course, they only dare to say these things to my face. Because if Lily heard them, she would stare at them blankly until they apologized to me. But if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have to endure this in the first place. So every day, I silently pray in my heart. If only Lily had never existed. 1 I didn’t always hate Lily. When we were little, for a long time, I was proud of her. She has been a star in school since she was young. I have never seen anyone better looking than her. Even in the uniform school clothes, she stood out in the crowd as if God favored her and gave her an extra filter. Not to mention her unparalleled grades. When I was painfully memorizing multiplication tables in elementary school, she could already use algebraic equations to solve word problems. Usually, the younger twin wouldn’t call the older one “sister,” but when I was little, I was most excited to point at Lily standing on various podiums and brag to my friends: “See that? That’s my sister.” They would often look at me with envy, jealous that I had such an amazing sister. When did this situation start to change? Probably once after I finished bragging, a kid asked me seriously and confusedly: “Emma, why is your sister so outstanding, but you are so mediocre?” Mediocre. That was the first time I heard that word. Before that, I never felt how bad I was. Maybe because Mom often told me: “Emma, you are the normal child. Your sister is a super mutation, so don’t compare yourself to her. In Mom’s heart, you and Lily are equally excellent, understand?” I would nod obediently every time, knowing I wasn’t bad, just that Lily was too outstanding. That was the first time someone asked me, why are you so mediocre? Yeah, why? Why did we grow in the same womb, and Lily was only born eleven minutes and eight seconds earlier than me, yet she is so excellent? Of course, this doubt was fleeting. When Lily used her prize money to buy me cake, I would forget all about it, rush over to hug her arm, and say Lily, you are the best. Lily would turn her head to look at me, her face, carved like white jade, looking cold. From a young age, she had a coldness that pushed people away. She turned a blind eye to my coquetry and only said indifferently: “You can eat after you finish the exercises I gave you.” I wailed loudly. Mentally, Lily and I seemed to differ not by eleven minutes and eight seconds, but by eleven years and eight months. Of course, Lily isn’t perfect either. I don’t know if this is a common problem for all geniuses, but her emotions are much scarcer than ordinary people. Later, when I watched the BBC show “Sherlock,” I often saw Lily’s shadow in the genius named Sherlock. Only she is a bit more taciturn. When Lily and I were babies, she already showed characteristics different from ordinary babies. Mom said she rarely cried, always staring quietly at the environment with a pair of dark eyes. Occasionally, when annoyed by my crying, she would frown and cover my mouth with her hand. Later, when she learned to speak and walk, at the age when children are annoying, she would always sit there quietly, playing with those educational toys and quickly finding the patterns. Her precociousness worried my mom. Although people around us praised my mom for her good fortune, saying this child looked extraordinary and would surely amaze the world in the future, Mom still often looked at Lily and frowned. This worry reached its peak when Lily and I were six. That year, I picked up a sparrow with a broken wing, holding it in my palm to bring back for Mom to save. The next day, Lily dissected the sparrow. The sparrow was carefully cut open from the middle of the abdomen. Its heart, lungs, and kidneys were neatly arranged on the side. Lily looked up amidst Mom’s suppressed scream of surprise, even wearing plastic gloves stained with blood. She really didn’t understand the horror on my and Mom’s faces, just explaining seriously: “I read in a book that ‘although the sparrow is small, it has all the vital organs.’ I just wanted to verify if it was true.” I was scared into crying loudly and had a high fever that night. I remember being afraid of Lily for a while because of this. Mom took Lily to see a doctor, but fortunately, Lily didn’t have an antisocial personality disorder; she just had mild Asperger’s Syndrome. After the third or fourth grade, no signs of this syndrome could be seen in Lily. She talked normally with other kids and participated in group activities. Mom thought Lily was cured. Only I felt it was because of Lily’s high IQ. She was good at observing and learning. She just gradually found the skills to get along with people from Mom’s attitude of facing a formidable enemy. She couldn’t feel the emotions of others at all, nor did she have any feelings for anything, except me. Only with me would Lily show emotions that didn’t belong to high-functioning autism. She seemed to like me very much. Even though I hated her so much later, my genius twin sister with emotional barriers seemed to give me her only normal human emotions. 2 Lily didn’t really have any hobbies. She didn’t like sweets, pretty new clothes, amusement parks, traveling, or the daily updated teen dramas. She didn’t even immerse herself in books because she liked them, but because she found the things in them more interesting than real people and events. The reason I say she seemed to like me is that she would use her prize money to buy me desserts, buy me skirts I liked, and bring me limited edition posters of stars whose names she never knew. She knew all my preferences like the back of her hand and satisfied me as much as possible. After I gradually distanced myself from her in middle school, she liked to look at me quietly with a frown from time to time. I knew she was observing me. When encountering something she didn’t understand, she observed quietly until the mystery was solved. She didn’t know why I distanced myself from her. I distanced myself from Lily, initially just because of the shame of puberty. The passage of time widened the gap between Lily and me. She became fairer and prettier, her exquisite features clear and refined, her body tall and slender like growing shoots, just like Snow White in comic books, plus her report card that always ranked first. I don’t know if it was the nutritional distribution in the womb for twins, but my body was weaker than Lily’s when I was young. I often took medicine when I was little. At that time, the difference between Lily and me wasn’t particularly big. At least in appearance, I was a cute little dumpling. But when peers started puberty in fifth or sixth grade, I seemed to be played at 0.5x speed. My body expanded horizontally, becoming fat. Even though I deliberately controlled my diet, I still gained weight uncontrollably even drinking water, plus my increasingly terrible grades. These made me gradually sensitive and inferior. Lily and I were not in the same class, but my teacher’s favorite sentence to me was: “Emma, can you learn from your sister?” I comforted myself that every teacher who said this to me might have started with the intention of hoping for my improvement, a good starting point. But their gaze looking down from the podium always contained a fleeting… regret and disgust. As if saying why the one assigned to this class wasn’t Lily. Whenever this happened, classmates would turn around to look at me in unison, their eyes filled with sympathy, understanding, and pity. I shrank myself again and again, wanting to shrink into the desk hole to shield all these gazes. But it was useless; these gazes followed like shadows. Although I went from bragging about Lily to never mentioning her, every time Lily shone brightly on the podium, I could always hear whispers pointing at me: “That’s Emma, Lily’s twin sister. Weird, right? They are twins, but not alike at all.” “Huh? That’s her.” “Are she and Lily fraternal twins? I heard fraternal twins would be completely different.” “God, the gap between her and Lily is as big as a fairy and an ugly duckling.” Of course, I understood this discussion was just curiosity, unrelated to malice—children’s malice is always hidden under a cloud of innocence. Also, Mom’s attitude towards me at home became more and more cautious. Lily and I didn’t have a father. He sacrificed himself to save a drowning person before Lily and I were born, so Mom raised us alone. She is a good mother. To avoid partiality caused by the huge gap between the two children, she tried her best to praise me from all angles, wanting to avoid my increasingly unbalanced and inferior mentality. Even between Lily and me, she paid more attention and care to me. I didn’t want her to be sad. Thinking of this, I would hide my inferiority and jealousy well, pretending nothing was wrong to talk and get along with Lily, ask her questions, be a coquettish and innocent sister, making my alienation from her look not so alienated. Maybe my emotions were often erratic, so Lily would often frown at my abnormality, as if not understanding what was wrong with me. As if I were the hardest problem she had ever done. She didn’t understand, which was right. Human emotions are ever-changing, complicated enough that even the person themselves can’t understand, let alone Lily who only knew a little about emotions. She wouldn’t hear the words I heard, and everyone around looked at her with admiration and praise. Although she didn’t care about these, she wouldn’t encounter everything I encountered. I tried hard to counsel myself psychologically. I told myself Charlie Munger once said: “In a person’s long life, there are two things that must never be done. The first is never to feel sorry for yourself, and the second is never to be jealous—jealousy is the only one of the seven deadly sins that has no fun at all.” Until she and I advanced to high school together. 3 Lily gave a speech on stage as the representative of new students. On the first day of enrollment, she became famous throughout the grade. Good grades, good looks, especially that cool aloofness. When I returned to class after the ceremony, she had become the recognized school beauty of the new grade. People in the class were discussing the name of the girl who just spoke on behalf of the freshmen and why she was so pretty. I sat by the wall without saying a word, attempting to make myself invisible from this topic. But it was useless. This town is just this big. There were many familiar faces in the same grade. From those whispers containing “Lily,” “twins,” and so on, I saw many gossiping eyes looking back towards me. Then, without exception, with obvious disappointment and shock, as if saying: “What, she is the school beauty genius Lily’s twin sister?? Genetic mutation?” I had learned to turn a blind eye to such gazes. Lily and I were not assigned to the same class. When I was packing my bag after school, I heard wow sounds in the class, boys’ voices especially prominent. I looked up out the window and unsurprisingly saw Lily standing at the classroom door waiting for me. Even though I had faced that face every day since birth, I still had to admit that every time I saw Lily suddenly, I would subconsciously marvel from the bottom of my heart, how could someone be so favored by the Creator. Lily stood expressionlessly at the door, habitually ignoring these amazed gazes, just waiting for me—we have gone to and from school together every day since we were young. But now, I suddenly wished she hadn’t appeared outside my classroom. On the way back, I remained silent. Lily turned her head, her clear and clean eyes like mercury reflecting my small shadow. She asked me: “Is someone bullying you?” Her expression was quiet, her tone flat, as if just asking casually. I knew she was serious. If I casually said a name, then within three days, the person I mentioned would definitely have bad luck. This is from my experience. Before elementary school, when Lily hadn’t become famous for her grades yet, nosy relatives often asked my mom if Lily was autistic. She was too cold and withdrawn, her emotions not like a child, overly stable to a scary degree. But she already knew how to protect me then. Kindergarten kids often snatched my things. Because I was weak and wouldn’t fight back like other kids or cry to the teacher, they called me “sickly,” pushing and pulling me to snatch my things. Every time this happened, Lily would open a pair of pitch-black eyes, quietly watching the person bullying me. Later, without exception, these people either found bugs in their schoolbags, or yellow sand mixed in their water cups and lunch boxes, or tripped over something unknown and fell flat on their backs, or fell off monkey bars or something else… I paused. The sentence “Lily, let’s go our separate ways from now on” spun around my mouth, but I held it back in the end. I forced a smile at Lily and whispered: “I don’t know anyone in the new class. Just started school, maybe still a bit unaccustomed.” Lily looked at me thoughtfully and didn’t speak. The next day, I heard my homeroom teacher quarreling with the homeroom teacher of Class 3. Because Lily submitted a class transfer application, the reason being she wanted to be in the same class as her sister. Class 3’s teacher naturally disagreed—Lily was the most promising student of the new batch. He was counting on Lily getting into or being recommended to the best university to bring him glory. My teacher was overjoyed upon hearing this. The two argued fiercely because of Lily. While they were arguing, the principal happened to pass by, asked in surprise what happened, and laughed after hearing the story. I think this might be the highlight moment of my entire high school life because the principal personally came forward and asked me if I wanted to transfer to Class 3 to be with Lily, or if I wanted my sister to transfer to my class. In my brief academic career so far, I have never been taken so seriously, of course, because of Lily’s halo. I wasn’t flattered but wanted to scream, to emit a majestic roar from the bottom of my heart. But I was too nervous. All eyes fell on me. I just felt suffocated, opened my mouth but couldn’t say a word. Finally, the principal made the decision and let me transfer to Class 3. Because they didn’t want the good student who brought glory to the school to move around. Unable to resist, I packed my things. When I stepped into Class 3, I experienced invisible bullying again. A slew of surprised, sympathetic, or amused looks and attention. Someone even exaggeratedly shouted, eyes scanning back and forth between Lily and me, then opened their mouth wide, whispering to the classmates around. This attention caused by Lily was like the flame of a pile of firewood, roasting me slowly bit by bit. It wouldn’t give you direct relief, but like boiling a frog in warm water, it eroded your endurance bit by bit. The unbearable numbness and hate penetrated from the skin to the bone, unable to break free, until it suddenly erupted. The teacher asked me to introduce myself. I ignored him directly, walked from the podium to the very back window seat under everyone’s surprised gaze, put down my bag and sat down as if in a fit of pique. So everyone’s gaze fell on Lily in surprise again. The teacher froze but didn’t say anything. Later after class, Lily came to find me to eat together. I looked at her expressionlessly and said coldly: “I don’t want to eat with you.” She froze but didn’t ask why, instead returning to her seat to read again. I sat alone in the back window seat, looking at her slender back, and simply turned my head away, out of sight, out of mind. The class gradually emptied. After a while, Lily came over again and asked me: “Eat?” Her tone was ordinary and calm, as if she didn’t see I was angry, as if the point of my sentence “I don’t want to eat with you” just now was not that I didn’t want to eat with her, but that I didn’t want to eat when she called me. So she waited for a while and came to ask me again. Not hungry just now, hungry now? Want to eat? If I still said I didn’t want to eat, then she would come ask me again in a while. Getting angry with Lily was like punching cotton hard. I really didn’t want to appear too unreasonable, but aren’t adolescent hormones unstable like this? I endured and endured, finally couldn’t help standing up, shouting loudly: “What exactly do you want? Can you not make decisions on your own? Did you ask me if I wanted to be in the same class as you? So many people circling around you, are you very proud? So many people using me to foil you, making you appear better and more excellent, are you very proud?” This sentence was actually completely me speaking without thinking, because Lily never had emotions similar to “pride and smugness” due to these external envies and comparisons. Even without my contrast, she was dazzlingly excellent. This is an objective fact. Only I, a sewer rat who is dark, damp, and jealous of my own twin sister, would judge others by myself and have such thoughts. If there is telepathy between twins, I wonder if Lily would sense the vicious thoughts I couldn’t control in countless late nights: If only Lily suddenly became ugly. If only Lily suddenly became stupid. If only Lily suddenly got fat. If only Lily never existed, if only I never had this sister… if only I were Lily… that would be great… How vicious. The closest family member harbors the most vicious curses against herself. If she knew what I thought, with her thin emotions, how would she view this sister of hers? Lily has never done anything to hurt me. I hate her simply because she is excellent. Her excellence makes me jealous, and jealousy gnaws at me day and night, accumulating into malice towards her that I can no longer hide. I glared at her, chest heaving rapidly due to anger and excitement, but a surge of pleasure floated from the depths of my brain. I even looked forward to what reaction Lily would make, surprised? Shocked? Sad? Angry? Disappointed? But Lily lowered her eyelashes, and I couldn’t see her expression clearly. She said nothing. 4 Lily and I fell into a cold war. Of course, it was my unilateral cold war. Lily treated me as usual. I ate alone, sat alone in the back, occasionally daydreaming, occasionally listening to the class. I still went home alone. Sometimes Lily would wait for me at the intersection near home, then enter the house one after another with me—she actually knew not to worry Mom. Besides that, I hoped everyone could treat me as invisible. But I actually received “friendship” invitations. Many girls in the class actually took the initiative to chat with me, pull me to eat, and come to talk to me after class. When did this start? Probably since the first monthly exam when Lily took first place in the whole school, with full marks in science and only losing over a hundred points in liberal arts combined. She was 195 points higher than the second place—because this was the first monthly exam, the school wanted to warn students to study hard later, so the difficulty of the test paper was at the highest intensity. Now she was truly famous throughout the school. All teachers looked at Lily with undisguised appreciation, their mantra becoming: “Same teacher, same classroom, how can Lily score so many points?” During breaks, boys from other classes often crowded the windows of our class along the corridor, coming to see this genius school beauty scholar. Even senior boys came. Her desk would be full of gifts and love letters every morning. Later, our teacher had to patrol the corridor frequently during breaks to drive away those boys. It wasn’t until the heat brought by Lily’s monthly exam slowly cooled down that it got better. I saw many girls in the class secretly looking at Lily, then whispering to each other. Those gazes looking over were emotions I was all too familiar with—jealousy, envy, disgust, disdain, pretended indifference… While saying they appreciated and admired Lily, they seemed to carry a magnifying glass in their eyes, attempting to find faults or flaws in Lily… Lily was also not good at or didn’t want to maintain interpersonal relationships. She was aloof and indifferent, wouldn’t echo girls’ topics, and looked at those boys confessing and hitting on her like looking at garbage, so there were many boys who turned angry from embarrassment. If you can’t get it, you want to destroy it—or pull you down from the altar, turning you into someone on the same level as him that he can get, this is the malice existing in the bones of most people. At first, a girl showed kindness to me, talked to me, asked me to eat, brought me some snacks, and then pulled me into her circle of friends, and I met her friends. I seemed to suddenly become very popular. Honestly, at first, I was a bit flattered by this sudden friendliness, especially seeing Lily seemed to be isolated by an invisible tacit understanding at the same time. That sense of superiority I had never experienced over Lily arose spontaneously. Every time PE class needed to form teams, Lily was the one left alone. The PE teacher stood in front, looked at Lily standing alone on the side, looked at the group of girls standing together, and asked in confusion: “Does this student have no partner? Which student is willing to team up with her?” The air was silent for a moment. Everyone was collectively silent, standing still. No one had discussed it beforehand; isolation became an invisible, naturally occurring collective behavior. Lily stood there indifferently, accepting everyone’s scrutiny, whether pitiful or mocking. Some people’s expressions gradually became excited, staring at Lily’s expression like watching a show. At this moment, the collective perpetrators were high above, as if they had leverage over Lily. They hoped this unreachable flower would bow down under collective power. I stood in the crowd, looking at Lily. Emotionally, I felt I should be very happy, but I couldn’t ignore that under the corners of my lips I tried to raise, there was a sudden uncontrollable sharp sting and empty dullness deep in my heart. I looked at Lily, wondering if she would look at me. If she looked at me, even a glance for help, what would I do? Would I immediately uncontrollably walk to her side? I wasn’t sure. Lily didn’t give me this chance either; she didn’t glance at me at all. She was not embarrassed, nor did she have the unease or begging for group acceptance that those people expected. She just looked at the PE teacher calmly and asked quietly: “Teacher, since no one wants to team up with me, can I go back to the classroom to read?” Later, Lily could skip all PE classes—this was a privilege given to her by the homeroom teacher. During the break on the playground, a girl opened the first topic seemingly unintentionally: “Emma, being sisters with someone like that must be hard, right?” Such an understated tone, as if just ordinary gossip between friends. The next second, everyone’s eyes fell on me coincidentally. I felt the hidden expectation in their eyes. I looked at the person asking me. Sophia. The second place crushed by Lily by 195 points in the first monthly exam. But unlike Lily, she was adept at interpersonal relationships. Less than two months after school started, she had faintly become the leader of the small group of girls. She was jealous of Lily or hated her, emotions I was all too familiar with. Without Lily, she might be the most brilliant and outstanding one. She was excellent, she just met Lily. Of course, if playing mind games could be scored, she would score more than 195 points higher than Lily. I understood the reason they befriended me. Probably all for this moment. For the moment I let down my guard, using this understated guiding question to guide me to express dissatisfaction with Lily, and then reveal some of Lily’s privacy or shortcomings. I thought no matter what I said, before school ended this afternoon, the bad words about Lily from my mouth would be embellished and become topics for everyone to discuss privately. “Huh? Is she such a person? Doesn’t look like it?” “Her own sister Emma said it, can it be fake?” “Tsk tsk, you really can’t judge a book by its cover, so pretentious.” “Tch, what’s the use of good grades? Character is so rotten.” … Thinking of this, I suddenly laughed out loud. Meeting those expectant eyes looking at me, I said: “It is indeed quite hard. My sister has been excellent and perfect since childhood, making me look like trash. I really envy her so much.” Sophia’s face stiffened, then she smiled, kind and gentle: “Is Lily like this at home too? Does she have no quirks?” She smiled again as she spoke, her face carrying just the right amount of curiosity and innocence, as if just gossip between friends: “Just pure curiosity, don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone.” I laughed. I thought my expression must be cooling down bit by bit, but the corners of my lips were still raised. I said: “Nothing like that. You deliberately forcing like this, what do you want me to say? Do you want me to make one up now so you can slander and spread rumors?” Everyone’s face didn’t look too good. Later, the class bell rang just in time. Everyone tacitly changed the subject, but when going back to the teaching building, they no longer held my arm and surrounded me in the middle like before, but intentionally or unintentionally left me at the end, separated by a short distance. Isolated so blatantly. Such familiar tactics. I sneered in my heart.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388690”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My friends invited me to a New Year’s Eve party. I was dead broke, so I could only make some honey-glazed chicken wings to share. As I was about to leave, my mom’s face suddenly darkened. “Have I ever tasted your cooking? And you’re making it for those shady friends of yours?” “Instead of eating with them, you should have gone to meet the guy I set you up with a few days ago!” “Do you understand ‘networking up’? You never listen! I raised an ungrateful enemy!” I stopped in my tracks and, for the first time, refuted her complaints. “Fine. You take the wings. Give me back my paycheck!” 1 My mom froze for a moment, then her expression shifted rapidly. “What do you mean? Asking you to contribute to the household expenses makes you this unwilling?” “If I knew you were this shameless, I never should have given birth to you!” “Fine! You want money, right? I’ll give it back to you right now. From now on, pay for your own food, drink, and rent. Don’t expect me to spend my coffin money on you!” She ranted on and on, but made no move to actually pay me. I took a deep breath; even my mouth tasted bitter. Contributing to the household was fine. The problem was, who contributes everything? Ever since I started my internship, my mom demanded my debit card. If the direct deposit didn’t hit on time, she would interrogate me relentlessly. I thought about moving out and taking on side gigs in secret. But she stormed into my office, questioning me in front of everyone about why I wasn’t home by 10 PM, accusing me of sleeping with a colleague. In the end, she found out about my part-time job and took every cent I had earned. I often questioned myself: what was the point of working so hard day and night? I felt no joy on payday. The thought of facing my mother 24/7 made me dread even the weekends. But my mother, Mrs. Sarah Miller, acted stranger and stranger. She would look at me and sigh heavily. “Did you see Chloe next door? Her mom just mentioned her mouth felt bland, and Chloe bought her durian and bird’s nest.” “I don’t have that kind of luck. Raised a daughter into her twenties, and I haven’t even tasted a grain of rice she bought.” “My life is so bitter.” “When will you be like other people’s kids and care about me proactively? Don’t wait for me to ask!” I wanted to buy things for her! But did I have a single cent to my name? She said to ask her if I needed anything. But when I needed bus fare, she told me to walk to work. When I needed lunch money, she said to come home for three meals a day. My colleagues were envious. “Your mom loves you so much!” “If I went home for lunch every day, my mom would definitely get annoyed, haha.” In the end, I became the ungrateful one. A few days ago, around Christmas, my friends had already invited me out once. We hadn’t seen each other for a few years since college graduation. It was only because rich girl Penny returned from studying abroad that she organized the gathering. I wanted to go. I desperately wanted to go. I even swallowed my pride and contacted my father, whom I hadn’t seen in ages, asking for $200. He just sneered and scolded me. “Your mom wanted custody when we divorced.” “I never missed a child support payment all these years. You’ve graduated, and you still want money?” “Just like your mother, always eyeing the few bucks in my pocket!” “Besides, so what if your mom takes a little? Isn’t she saving it for you?” “You feel wronged over this little thing? Useless! Why should I give you money?” In the end, I had to decline the invitation. Penny DM’d me proactively, saying she hadn’t had home-cooked food in ages. I didn’t need to split the bill; just bringing some homemade food would be fine. The more I thought about it, the more agitated I felt. Then I realized the time. If I didn’t leave now, I’d be late. I sighed, deciding to argue later. I grabbed the wings and headed for the door. But she blocked me again. “Where are you going? Make yourself clear!” “Are those fox friends of yours more important than your mother?” “Speak!” 2 I was honestly too exhausted. I had no mood or time to argue with her. Thinking about the hour-long walk to the meeting place, I couldn’t delay any longer. I went into the kitchen and set aside a third of the wings. “I left some for you. The rest is for four people to share; I can’t take less.” “We see each other every day; they rarely get together.” “Just treat it as lending me $200, okay?” My mom scoffed, seeming satisfied with my lowered posture. But soon, she started nitpicking again. “These wings are cold. How am I supposed to eat them?” “Your mother loves spicy food and hates sweet things! You’ve been my daughter for twenty years, and you can’t even remember that?” “What is the use of raising a daughter?” The nameless fire in my heart flared up again. But thinking of my roommates whom I hadn’t seen in years, I sighed again, compromising with a hoarse voice. “Next time I’ll make a special batch just for you. Whatever you want.” “Mom, I just need $200. I promise to listen to you from now on.” Maybe I looked truly pathetic. She took out her phone and started the transfer. But when it came to entering the password, she hesitated. “You want money? Fine. But you must promise me you’ll be back before 8 PM.” It was already 6 PM! 8 PM? How was that even possible? I got anxious, unable to maintain my gentle facade. “Mom, New Year’s Eve goes past midnight. It’s about welcoming the first day of 2026 with friends.” “Just this once! I promise to come back as soon as I wake up tomorrow.” At first, hearing about staying out overnight, I hesitated. But now, I wanted to stay out more than anyone. My mental state was on the brink of collapse; I desperately needed some breathing room. But facing my plea, my mom simply turned off her phone screen. “What? Staying out all night?” “Absolutely not! If you’re not back before 8, you get nothing!” 3 I looked at her in disbelief. After a moment, I gritted my teeth and compromised again. “Okay, I’ll be back before 8.” “I haven’t seen them in years, I just want to catch up…” Since graduating and moving back home, I had zero friends. I went to work alone, left alone. Because I couldn’t afford to eat out or grab coffee with colleagues, I didn’t even have a work buddy. Everyone thought I was antisocial. I tried to negotiate for a small allowance several times, but only received more humiliation. “Why drink boba? It’s at least $6 a cup!” “Mom will boil some brown sugar water for you at home. Take it in a thermos.” “These were rare treats in the past! Don’t be ungrateful.” Now, I finally had an invitation. I wanted to go so badly. Seeing her about to renege, I panicked completely. I grabbed her phone and shoved it into her hand. “Stop stalling, Mom. Transfer it!” “I don’t have a penny. It’s so embarrassing to go out like this!” But seeing the anxiety on my face, Mrs. Miller suddenly laughed. “Why the rush? If you don’t bring money, will they kick you out?” “Friends who only care about benefits aren’t real friends. Someday you’ll understand my good intentions.” “Only ‘networking up’ is worth spending money on!” I couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing she was obstinate, I didn’t want to struggle anymore. I took a deep breath, turned, and headed for the door. But she followed me, nagging incessantly. “You child, you never listen!” “Why waste time with those people? Mom doesn’t want to withhold money; I just don’t want you wasting time.” “Didn’t the match I introduced last time invite you for New Year’s Eve too?” Hearing her bring him up again, I snapped. I questioned her angrily. “Enough, okay? I don’t want to talk nonsense with you. Do you really think you’re making sense?” “An old man who wants the girl to stay over after knowing her for a few days—in your mouth, he’s a treasure?” “Networking up? Why didn’t you network up? When you looked for a husband, for a boyfriend, why didn’t you use those standards?” “You know to pick the good-looking ones, but you find me one who breathes bad breath as soon as he speaks!” “I think you’ve been infected. Everything you say stinks!” “I’ll say it one more time. Those are my friends, not shady characters, and not fox friends!” With that, I carried the wings and walked out, afraid that if I stopped, I’d never leave today. But the next second, pain shot through my wrist. My mom rushed up, slapped my arm hard, and threw the wings out the window. “Just because you ate two wings, you think you can fly?” “Let me tell you, Lily Miller, in this house, you don’t call the shots!” “You dare raise your voice at your mother? You’re not going anywhere today!” 4 I stared blankly at the wings thrown outside. My mom acted like she didn’t see anything and started complaining to herself. “How did I mistreat you? How can you say that?” “He’s nine years older than you, but he earns $3,000 more. Together you can pay the mortgage and car loan, just enough!” “With a matchmaker’s guarantee, isn’t it better than finding one yourself?” “I think your heart is wild! Seduced by men outside!” We lived in an old apartment complex; the soundproofing was terrible. Her voice was sharp and piercing. My vision went black from the noise; I almost fainted. She didn’t stop, continuing to curse loudly. “I saw it when you were in college!” “Wearing those skirts that barely cover your butt, who knows who you wanted to seduce!” “I never did such things. Do you want to be like that vixen your dad kept, a whore who destroys families?” Mentioning that past event made me feel worse. Growing up, my mom’s education was: no dressing up, no clothes other than school uniforms. She said a student’s job is to study. But this habit persisted into college. Without uniforms, I suddenly didn’t know what to wear. My living expenses were limited, so I wore cheap jackets and pants from Temu every day. Until one day, my pants split when I squatted in the dorm. My face flushed red with shame. My roommate lent me a dress, saying I was at the age of blossoming and should allow myself to be beautiful. I remember it was a beautiful white floral dress, knee-length, safe but showing my calves. I loved it. I secretly skipped dinner for a month to ask for the link. But the day the dress arrived, my mom saw it and cut it to shreds. She also dragged me to the salon and cut my long hair into a bob. “This is a student cut! Do you understand?” “Just because you’re in college doesn’t mean you’re not a student!” “Stop thinking those crooked thoughts. They are unclean themselves and want you to be played by men too!” Those words were too ugly. I didn’t even dare look at my roommates’ faces. After that, we tacitly stopped being close. Until I fainted in class and was taken to the hospital by my roommates. Seeing my haggard state, the teenage girls couldn’t bear it, and we became friends again. I think my mom just couldn’t stand me having sincere friends. She wasn’t reconciled to me being with them, to me escaping her control. So she used her old tricks, wanting my friends to hate me again. Sure enough, she started screaming again. “Those friends of yours are up to no good! Telling you not to come home? Who knows if they found some old man to sell you to!” “If you dare leave, I’ll die right here!” She always used this to force me into submission. But this time, I just looked at her calmly and climbed onto the windowsill before she could. “Do you want to die, or do you want me to die?” “What did I do wrong to be treated like this?!” By the end, I was almost hysterical. Tears uncontrollable, body shaking, I questioned her sentence by sentence. “I just accepted parental support like most kids.” “Why, in your mouth, is it an unforgivable sin I have to repay for a lifetime?” “Why, when I just started working, couldn’t you wait to take money back?” “Since you see me as an investment, you should be prepared to lose money!” With that, my emotions peaked, my body swaying precariously. But the expected panic and repentance didn’t come. My mom sneered, rushed forward, grabbed my hair, dragged me off the sill, and slammed my head against the wall. “You think I’m easily scared?” “I used that trick before you were born!” “You want to die? Go ahead! Jumping is too quick and easy for you!” “If you die, it has to be a living hell!” I was dizzy from the impact, but the pain in my heart spread, drowning out even the throbbing in my forehead. In an instant, my desire to die vanished, replaced by questions. Why should I be the one to die? Why must I die when I did nothing wrong? Why die obediently when I haven’t enjoyed anything? I suddenly remembered a line from a hit show and blurted it out unconsciously. “Mom… thank you.” “Thank you for not changing. Thank you for still being like this.” “This way, I can finally make up my mind.” Hearing the first sentence, Mrs. Miller smiled triumphantly. She let go, responding lightly. “Why didn’t you act like this sooner?” “You young people, your lives were given by your elders, yet you all want to climb on our heads!” “If you had always been this good…” Towards the end, she stopped, looking at me warily. “Make up what mind?” “What do you mean?” Before the words fell. A knock sounded at the door! My mom froze, looking a bit panicked. A moment later, she glared at me, fixed her hair, and warned in a low voice. “Be careful. If you embarrass me, you’ll pay.” She snorted, walked to the door with a sway, and looked through the peephole. Her expression changed, voice squeezed through gritted teeth. “Why are you here? Who asked you to come?” “Get out, my house doesn’t welcome you!” But the doorbell rang again and again, relentless. The veins on Mrs. Miller’s forehead throbbed. Finally, unable to bear it, she pulled the door open. “Don’t understand human language? Get out!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388706”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The moment I was bound to the Charmer Cultivation System, I was gifted a unique cheat: the ability to manufacture dreams. The System, trapped in my mind, was buzzing with panic. 【The Male Leads and Supporting Male Characters currently have a favorability score of -99 toward the host. What good is a dream-making ability going to do?!】 I answered casually, “A wet dream is still a dream, isn’t it?” The System: ? I tapped enthusiastically on my mental keyboard. “The aloof, brilliant professor… he must be so repressed. I’ll give him a full set of candles and a little leather crop in his dreams!” System: 【Wait, wait…】 “The reckless, boy-next-door type… I wonder if he’s learned how to be reckless in bed yet. Perfect. I’ll give him a thorough education in his sleep!” System: 【Stop right there…】 A few nights passed. The men who had consistently treated me with total disgust started to soften their attitudes. Meanwhile, their white moonlight, the golden girl they idolized, watched the suspicious blush on their faces every time they saw me and practically ground her teeth. Before she could make her first move, I pulled out my keyboard again. “My seemingly hostile sister, the certified mean girl, is secretly harboring very different feelings toward me…” The System shrieked in horror, blocking me immediately. 【No! Absolutely not! We don’t need that kind of favorability!】 1 When other people transmigrate into novels, they are usually bound to a standard Charmer System. The cheat code is activated, and suddenly the male leads, supporting characters, family, and friends all lose their minds, falling all over themselves to shower the heroine with affection. The System I was stuck with was a Charmer Cultivation System. I got nothing upfront. I had to actively scheme and work to become the charmer myself before I could complete the mission. The System finished its timid explanation. Seeing my silence, it nervously pressed on. 【I also have some bad news…】 【In this world, you are just a cannon fodder character, unloved by your father and mother. Your fiancé and your childhood best friend both adore your sister, Serena Scott.】 【And just one hour ago, you had a huge fight at a dinner party.】 【In front of everyone, you pushed her into the swimming pool.】 【So, their favorability scores have already plummeted to -99…】 Me: “…” This wasn’t a little difficult; this was Hell Difficulty, plain and simple. I tentatively asked, “If I don’t complete the mission, what’s the penalty?” The System was succinct: 【Eradication.】 【But if the mission is successful, you can return to your original life.】 I offered a small, unimpressed smile. “Who do you take me for? You think that pathetic carrot is enough to turn me into a simpering lackey? A dog wouldn’t…” 【…Plus, you’ll receive a cash reward of ten billion dollars.】 2 Done! I’ll be the best damn lackey you’ve ever seen! Ten billion to be a lackey? That’s like money falling from the sky. But the System wasn’t wrong. This dream-making ability did seem relatively useless. Just as I was trying to figure out how to leverage this cheat, my cheap fiancé, Rhys Hawthorne, walked straight toward me. The novel described him as the youngest core figure in the East Coast’s most exclusive research circles—a genius almost preternaturally clever. The Hawthorne family was already old money, but Rhys’s status in the research community, securing major government contracts, had elevated them to an untouchable level among the city’s elite. Everyone knew that the normally cold and aloof Rhys Hawthorne reserved his rare smiles for only one person: my sister, Serena. Anyone who dared hurt her, Rhys would relentlessly torment, making it impossible for them to exist in this city. Case in point, right now. Serena had choked on water when she fell into the pool and still hadn’t fully recovered, so our parents had punished me by making me stand outside her door, facing the wall. Rhys approached and immediately grabbed my throat, squeezing hard. “You had better pray Serena is alright, or you will find out the consequences!” His suit was impeccably tailored, but even the severity of his frameless glasses couldn’t entirely mask the devastating tilt of his eyes. In that instant, I suddenly understood exactly how to use my new ability. Before I could react, however, a scoffing voice came from behind me. “Professor Hawthorne, aren’t you afraid of soiling your hands by touching her?” “She’s the kind of woman who sacrifices all shame just to net an engagement. The more attention you give her, the more excited she gets.” Oh, that would be my cheap childhood friend, Jaxon Bell. Rhys’s brow furrowed. He immediately let go of me, pulling out a crisp handkerchief to meticulously wipe the hand that had touched me. Only after he was satisfied that it was clean did he adjust his glasses, resuming his usual cold detachment. The moment he turned away, Jax grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel. He hissed, “Don’t think I’m doing you a favor, Zara Scott.” “I’ll settle the score with you once Serena is awake!” The disgust in his eyes was authentic. Rhys’s disgust was just as real. But I didn’t care. My eyes were fixed on Rhys’s retreating back. The forbidden type. The most alluring thing about the forbidden type isn’t the handsome face. It’s the pristine, buttoned-up shirt and the trousers that are perfectly ironed, yet somehow… bulging. I tapped the System. The inspiration was finally here. “A wet dream is still a dream, right?” 3 After Serena woke up, I was forced to endure another long, pointless lecture from my parents before I finally made it to my favorite time: sleep. The System informed me that my fiancé and my childhood friend had both gone to sleep. I immediately submitted the dream scenario I’d been editing all day. Without waiting for its approval, I eagerly plunged into Rhys Hawthorne’s dream. … In a dimly lit laboratory, Rhys had been drugged and then restrained to a chair using what I could only describe as an “artistic” technique. His shirt buttons remained meticulously fastened, right up to the hollow of his throat. Yet, no restraint could lock away the inferno of desire raging through him. He was forced to lean his head back, panting raggedly. Men, I thought, always sound better panting than singing. I smiled in satisfaction and walked straight up to him. He didn’t realize it was a dream. The moment he saw me, his brow knitted together in a furious knot. He swallowed the raw, nearly unmanageable panting and snapped, “Who gave you permission to enter my lab? Get out.” I glanced down at his trousers and offered a kind suggestion: “Are you sure you want me to leave, Professor Hawthorne?” Rhys’s reason was being scorched away by the chemical heat in his veins. The drug-induced rapid thump of his heart hammered against his eardrums, making it hard to hear. But he refused to lose control in front of someone he hated. He ground his teeth, trying to endure it. When he looked up, the woman he despised was still standing there. His aversion intensified. He finally looked down at the ropes and said, “Since you won’t leave, help me.” Hearing that, I quietly pulled a small leather crop from behind my back and smiled, a smile as wicked as the devil’s own. “Of course.” He’d only asked for help, not specified what kind. As his eyes glazed over, I snapped the whip across his chest, leaving a faint, pink-red line across his peck. He didn’t see it coming. A suppressed groan escaped him, and his body trembled with a mixture of pain and heightened arousal. When he realized what I’d done, rage twisted his face. “What are you doing!” he bellowed. The System screamed in my mind: 【Stop! Host! With that one lash, Rhys Hawthorne’s favorability just dropped to -99.99!】 【I thought you were going to seduce him with a wet dream, not whip him!】 I ignored the System, looking down at Rhys with a dismissive smirk. “What’s the shouting for? Didn’t you enjoy it?” “If you didn’t enjoy it, why did you groan?” Play a man’s game, leave him nowhere to go. He stammered out “You…” repeatedly, unable to form a coherent sentence. He finally closed his eyes, stewing in silent fury. I wasn’t about to give him a moment to recover. The next snap of the whip landed precisely on a more sensitive spot: his lower abdomen. Rhys gasped sharply, his entire body rigid for a long moment. When he finally calmed down, his ear tips were flushed crimson, but his eyes were clear again. He narrowed them, fixing me with a cold stare. “You’re the one who drugged me, aren’t you? What is it you want?” “A few years ago, you maneuvered your way into my bed, and I gave you the engagement you wanted. What more could you possibly be dissatisfied with?” I met his gaze, smirked, and lifted my foot, grinding my heel down on him until another guttural sound of discomfort escaped him. I traced the whip from his throat all the way to his abs. Then, I leaned in, breathing a light laugh against his ear. “I want you to fall in love with me.” “But I’ll let you off the hook for today. We’ll start tomorrow. Be sure to drive me to campus in the morning.” “If you don’t show, we’ll continue this tomorrow night.” I extracted myself from the dream, and the System immediately began a real-time broadcast of Rhys’s awakening. The moment I left, he shot upright in bed, drenched in sweat. He rubbed his temples, full of self-loathing. “Why would I dream of that woman? And that kind of dream?” Rhys took several deep breaths. Finally calm, he got out of bed to change his clothes. Hearing this, I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “He got that worked up from just that? Did he soil his trousers already?” “Is he that repressed? Maybe he has performance issues.” The System sounded utterly defeated. 【Is this really okay?】 【Do you realize Rhys Hawthorne’s favorability was 0.01 away from hitting -100! At -100, you are eradicated!】 I didn’t answer, only asking casually, “What’s Rhys doing now?” System: 【He changed his pants and went into the bathroom. Why?】 Me: “Keep reporting.” 【He’s been in the bathroom for 10 minutes. Still hasn’t come out.】 【20 minutes in the bathroom, still in there.】 【He’s out. Looks like he changed his pants again.】 “And what’s the favorability score now?” The System was silent for a moment before replying: 【-79.99.】 【Congratulations, Host. Rhys Hawthorne’s favorability has increased by 20 points.】 4 Since I had two dream opportunities per night, I certainly wasn’t going to let Jax Bell slip away. The Bell house was right next door to the Scott house, so the original me, Serena, and Jax grew up together. From the time we were children, no matter what happened between the Scott sisters, Jax always sided unconditionally with Serena. However, after reviewing the original Zara’s memories, I realized Jax’s feelings for her were more complicated. Although he always publicly took Serena’s side, if Zara was hurt, he would secretly feel bad and sneak over to give her medicine. Then, the next time he listened to Serena and her friends gossip, he would immediately turn around and coldly mock Zara again. Simply put, he was easily swayed and too quick to believe gossip. So, to deal with this kind of clumsy, volatile boy, I didn’t need complicated schemes. I just needed to mess with his head. The problem was that I’d spent too long with Rhys. Jax had already entered natural sleep, and it was too late to construct a new dream for him. I had to barge right into whatever he was already dreaming. His dream was set on a beach on a summer night. Under a shower of dazzling fireworks, a boy and a girl were sitting side by side on the sand. The girl, her face flushed, was shyly pulling something out, looking like she was confessing to Jax. I took a closer look. It was Serena. Of course. Even in his dreams, the guy is still wishing his crush would confess to him. The confession ended, and Jax naturally leaned in to kiss Serena. I smirked, snapped my fingers, and instantly replaced Serena with myself. Unfortunately, just as the kiss was about to land, Jax’s eyes snapped open. The moment he saw me, he shot up, shocked into silence. “You… why are you here?” “How did you get into my dream?” I pulled him back down, gently tracing the outline of his ear. I laughed softly. “Why wouldn’t it be me?” “Didn’t you just accept my confession? Weren’t you just about to kiss me?” He violently pushed me away, putting distance between us. His face was a mask of repulsion as he sneered at me. “You? Are you kidding? If it were you, I wouldn’t even let you finish the confession!” “I was going to kiss Serena. She was just here… Wait!” He suddenly figured it out, his eyes widening. “This is a dream! I must be dreaming!” “Why else would Serena’s face change to yours in the blink of an eye?” “It has to be a dream!” I rested my chin in my hand, watching him with interest. “If it’s a dream, doesn’t the fact that my face replaced Serena’s at the most crucial moment of the kiss prove that you like me?” “Unless you’re thinking about me constantly, why would I appear in your dream?” “I bet you even have a picture of me taped above your bed, don’t you?” I was only joking, but he reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. He instantly exploded, yelling at me, “Zara Scott, don’t be delusional!” “I would rather like a dog, or a pig, than you!” “I haven’t forgotten what you did to Serena, or what you did to Professor Hawthorne.” “I hate desperate, pathetic women who chase men like you!” The moment the words left his mouth, I grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him. The instant our lips met, I saw his pupils flicker. He was so pure. Was this his first kiss? He appeared to be completely frozen. Before he could react, I leaned my forehead against his. My fingers slid down the side of his face to his throat, and then traced slow circles on his chest, continuing the mental attack. “Am I really the delusional one?” “You know I love boys with a citrus-soda scent, the athletic type. So why do you wear that gray athletic hoodie every single day, spray that orange-zest cologne, and walk around me all the time?” “There are so many colors for sweatpants, yet you constantly show up in those thin gray ones. What’s the message you’re trying to send?” “Wearing clothes that provocative, isn’t that just trying to lure me in?” My finger trailed over his chest and lingered briefly on his abs. I smiled in satisfaction. “Look. You still haven’t pushed me away.” “Are you still going to tell me you don’t like me?” Following the path of my finger, his eyes dropped to his own pants, and his face instantly turned a deep crimson. Before he could pull away in furious embarrassment, I placed a feather-light kiss on his lips again. Then, I leaned close to his ear and whispered: “Jaxon Bell, you like me.” “If you don’t believe me, check if I’m still in your dreams for the next few nights.” … Mission accomplished. I dissolved into a wisp of smoke, leaving the dream. The System applauded in my head. 【The Master of Mind Games, truly. But you might have failed this time.】 【Jax looked easily fooled in the dream, but his favorability score hasn’t budged at all.】 I chuckled, leaning back calmly. “Check what he does when he wakes up.” The System, skeptical, opened the mental surveillance feed for me. It watched with me, narrating enthusiastically. 【Hahaha, he ripped up the photo of the three of you on his bedside table!】 【Wait, he really did have your photo at his bedside! How did you guess that?】 【He looks so angry, he’s rubbing his hair into a bird’s nest and jumping off the bed.】 【He just smashed that bottle of orange-zest cologne!】 【Oh? He’s calming down now.】 【He’s sitting on the edge of the bed… touching his lips?】 【…Congratulations, Host. Jaxon Bell’s favorability has increased by 50 points.】 【Current favorability: -49.】 5 Unlike Jax, highly intelligent individuals like Rhys Hawthorne weren’t so easily fooled. The 20 points of favorability that spiked after the dream due to a rush of hormones immediately dropped by 10 points once he was fully awake. Naturally, he didn’t take the dream seriously and didn’t show up to drive me to campus the next morning. Since he was going to be stubborn, I wouldn’t let him off the hook in the dream world. Over the next few days, I tried almost every stimulating fantasy item I could think of on him: candles, whips, dog chains, electrical stimulation devices—the works. Every morning, I would end the dream by reminding him to come to the Scott house. But he was too rooted in his scientific rationality. He refused to believe there could be any link between a dream and reality. It took a full week before he finally arrived at our door, looking like he was just testing a hypothesis. I don’t know if it was because I’d gone too far in the dreams, but he looked genuinely haggard after a week of my nocturnal torment. However, I still underestimated the depth of his hatred for me. Having come all this way, he bypassed me entirely. He quickly walked over to Serena, who had just stepped outside, and gently helped her stand. He offered her a tender smile. “Serena, how is your recovery progressing?” “My schedule isn’t heavy today, and the city’s premier Music Conservatory is on my way to the lab. I thought I’d give you a ride.” Serena was a piano major at the conservatory, which was indeed more convenient than my school. But did he have to be so openly antagonistic? Did he think the dreams meant the opposite of what I said? Serena’s eyes were filled with surprise. As she leaned into Rhys, she seemed to remember something and cautiously glanced at me. “Are you only taking me? What about my sister?” “After all… she is your fiancée.” Rhys instinctively looked at me too. However, the moment our eyes met, he flinched as if burned, a quick shudder running through him. The tips of his ears instantly flushed crimson. He blinked rapidly, deliberately breaking eye contact. Noticing his overly intense reaction, he lowered his gaze, a hint of self-loathing flickering across his face. He spoke coldly, “Ignore her. Let’s go.” I watched, amused, as he quickly ushered a confused Serena into the car and drove away. I turned to the System. “What was that about, Rhys?” The System checked the favorability history but couldn’t explain it either. 【I don’t know. His favorability has been all over the place. Up 20 in the dream, down 10 when he wakes up.】 【But his score is already up to -9.99. He shouldn’t be so cold to you anymore.】 【Could he be… embarrassed?】 Embarrassed, is it? Then let’s up the ante! “System, does he have a habit of taking a nap?” 【Yes. His research is very taxing, so he usually takes a short nap in his lab after lunch.】 I sneered. “Then at noon, increase the dosage!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388722”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While I was dating Spencer, his best friend, Rhys, made it his personal mission to badmouth me. “Beyond beautiful, she’s useless.” “She calls him to check in even when we’re just getting drinks. She’ll walk all over you, man.” “Be a man, Spencer. Don’t be a simp, okay?” Goaded by Rhys’s constant needling, Spencer coldly dumped me. Two months later, he regretted it and called late one night, begging to reconcile. But the person who answered the phone was Rhys. “Bro, the funny thing is, the moment I laid eyes on your girlfriend, I knew you and I were going to be inseparable.” “Oh, right. We’re getting married next month. Be sure to come.” 1 Spencer introduced me to Rhys at some upscale dinner party. “Babe, this is Rhys.” Spencer’s tone was noticeably reverent when he made the introduction. I looked over, a little self-conscious. Rhys sat at the center of the crowd, relaxed, with striking features and an exceptional aura. He was clearly high society, old money. Far wealthier than Spencer, who was just a local trust fund kid. I greeted him politely: “Hi, Rhys. I’m Sloan.” Rhys didn’t nod or reply. He just stared at me. He held my gaze for two or three seconds. After a beat, he finally asked Spencer: “Your girlfriend?” “Yeah, man.” “Oh.” Rhys’s expression suddenly turned impatient, and he looked away, not sparing me another glance. I scratched my head. Even though I’m slow to catch on, I sensed that this elite guy didn’t like me. 2 That hunch was quickly confirmed. Spencer threw a big party for his birthday, inviting several friends, Rhys included. I was running late because of extra hours at the office. Just as I reached out to push open the private lounge door, I heard Rhys’s voice drift out, lazy and condescending. “Spencer, aside from her looks, that girlfriend of yours is useless. What do you even see in her?” … Well, even the rich talk trash behind people’s backs. I felt a little awkward. I sheepishly pulled back my hand, silently racking my brain trying to figure out what I’d done to offend this sophisticated man. Inside, Spencer replied: “The face and the body, obviously. She’s got that innocent-but-sexy vibe. Who wouldn’t be into that?” “You agree, right, man?” “…” Rhys was eerily quiet for a few seconds before speaking again: “So you’re going to marry her?” Spencer hesitated: “Ah, I don’t know, actually.” “How can I put this? Sloan is genuinely beautiful, but she’s a little slow, and her parents are just regular people—farmers, honestly. I don’t want to lose the battle against my brother over my choice of wife.” I knew about Spencer’s half-brother, who was battling him for control of the family business. My parents were just simple, working-class people. I couldn’t offer him any business leverage. Rhys made a noise of acknowledgment. “It’s true. It’s a mismatch. You need to be cautious about mixing bloodlines. Don’t lose the war over a fling.” Spencer was touched. “Thanks for the concern, Rhys. I’ll toast you first.” “I’m really moved that you came to my party tonight. Anything you ever need from me, you got it.” A new round of toasts began inside the room, accompanied by everyone’s fawning praise for Rhys. I stood outside the door, a knot tightening in my chest. I felt hurt by Rhys’s harsh words about me. I felt sad about the massive gap between Spencer’s family and mine. And I felt disappointed that Spencer wasn’t firmly committed to marrying me. But it was okay. We’d only been dating for two months. We had plenty of time to work things out. Once the topic inside the room shifted, I composed myself, pushed the door open, and walked in. When Spencer saw me, he acted as if nothing had happened, constantly piling food onto my plate. The other guys greeted me out of respect for him. Only Rhys maintained a cold, irritated expression from the moment I entered, looking like he was in a terrible mood. Right. He still really seemed to hate me. I decided to just stay as far away from him as possible. I made a mental note. 3 After that night, Spencer seemed to have formally latched onto Rhys like a remora. He was constantly out drinking and hanging out with Rhys and his circle of friends. He’d come home every day reeking of alcohol and a faint, foreign female perfume. A cheap one. Sweet and cloying. The kind club girls wore. I don’t know what he was hearing out there, but lately, he was subtly finding fault with everything I did. He said I was a bad drinker, that I was too introverted, and that I constantly checked up on him. His dissatisfaction with me grew daily. One night, when Spencer was out drinking late again and hadn’t returned, I called him, worried. “Spencer, what time are you planning on coming home tonight?” Men have a strange psychology. They hate being called home by their girlfriends during a gathering with their friends; they feel it compromises their male pride. Spencer sounded annoyed, though his tone was barely polite. “Sloan, I haven’t finished drinking yet. I’ll come home after.” “Can’t you stop now? I miss you and I want you back soon.” “Just go to sleep, don’t wait up for me.” After Spencer hung up, the man of sophisticated aura next to him suddenly scoffed. It was Rhys. “Spencer, why does your girlfriend check up on you every time you come out for a drink?” “If you marry her, she’ll run your life.” A group of guys broke out into laughter. “Yeah, if my girl dared to try and manage me, I’d dump her and find a new one.” “Seriously, are you even a man, Spence?” Spencer was embarrassed that he’d lost face. He mumbled: “I’ll talk to her later. I’m not going to tolerate this habit of hers.” Rhys offered an ambiguous, knowing smile. 4 Spencer didn’t come home until the next day. He had a hangdog, hungover look, and his clothes were wrinkled. The club-girl perfume smell was heavier, cloyingly strong. I hesitated before speaking: “Spencer, can you stop going out with those friends of yours? Especially Rhys, I think there’s something strange about him.” Spencer tugged at his tie and frowned when he heard that. He remembered the embarrassing scene last night where his friends had collectively mocked him until he couldn’t lift his head. My request now sent his irritation soaring. “What are you talking about? He’s the only heir to the most powerful family in this city—my family’s wealth is a rounding error for him. If I latch onto him, I’ll be set for life.” “…But I don’t like him constantly dragging you out drinking.” “Sloan, be sensible. That phone call you made last night nearly made me lose face in front of everyone.” “I have been very sensible.” “Then be a little more sensible, okay? Stop calling to rush me home. It’s annoying.” So, my concern was annoying him. I stared at him, disappointed, then grabbed my purse and walked past him. “Spencer, if you don’t distance yourself from Rhys and those people, then let’s just cool off for a few days.” “Sloan! Now you dare to give me the cold shoulder?!” Spencer angrily called out a few times, but I didn’t look back. Starting that day, we were in a cold war. He didn’t try to placate me, and I didn’t go home, opting to stay at the office instead. However, an unfamiliar number started sending me frequent photos of Spencer over the next few days. In the pictures, my boyfriend was intimately embracing different women, his face blurry with intoxication, living the high life. It was clear he was enjoying himself immensely. I didn’t know who was sending them. But someone was secretly trying to drive a wedge between Spencer and me. I have to admit, it was a huge success. In a fit of anger, I sent Spencer a breakup text. 5 Unexpectedly, Spencer didn’t go out that evening. Instead, he cooked an entire table of food, hoping to reconcile. I was surprised. During the time we lived together, he wouldn’t even pick up a dropped ketchup bottle. He sincerely apologized. “Babe, I don’t want to lose you. Can we please stop fighting?” “What about your friends, like Rhys?” “I can’t completely cut him off. Rhys is genuinely helpful to my business goals. But I will reduce the number of times I go out with them. I won’t neglect you anymore.” I breathed a sigh of relief. This was good enough. I nodded. We both took a step back, and the cold war ended harmoniously. Spencer happily went to the kitchen to serve soup, and I just as happily went to the bathroom to wash my hands. Someone else’s mood, however, was far from pleasant. In a private lounge, Rhys lit a cigarette and called Spencer. “Rhys, what’s up?” “Spencer, why aren’t you here drinking?” Spencer sighed. “Rhys, I can’t make it tonight. My girlfriend and I had a fight, and I just cooked a meal to smooth things over.” Rhys’s tone instantly turned sharp. “Smooth what over?” “Be a man. Don’t be a simp, okay?” “You should spend that time drinking instead. I got you a solid investor for the new project, and he’s here tonight. Come talk business first. Don’t let a woman distract you from the important stuff.” Spencer hesitated: “But…” Rhys was cold and cutting. “If you don’t come, I’ll turn him down. I was going to use this project to help you gain ground on your half-brother, but forget it. Go back to being a whipped dog.” “No, no, no, man. I’ll be there.” “Hurry up.” Rhys hung up the phone, a calculated plume of smoke leaving his lips. A look of pure calculation flashed in his dark eyes before vanishing. 6 When I came out after washing my hands, I saw Spencer hurriedly putting on his jacket. “I thought we were eating. Where are you going?” “I have an emergency meeting. A really important one. I have to go out and drink.” I was dejected. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? We just made up today.” Spencer was impatient: “Sloan, I thought you’d be more sensible after the cold war. Why are you even more dramatic now?” He thought: The guys were right. You can’t spoil women. The more you give, the more they demand. I took one step back, and now she’s trying to manage my important business meetings. I didn’t want to argue, so I didn’t try to stop him again. “…Okay. Then please come home early.” “I’ll try.” Spencer scoffed and walked out. But by midnight, he still hadn’t returned and hadn’t texted me. I was going to go to bed, but then I realized Spencer hadn’t taken his keys. Reluctantly, I called him. 7 In the private lounge. The deal had mysteriously fallen apart. Spencer was furious. The investor, for some reason, kept giving him a hard time, eventually walking out without a deal. Rhys, sitting nearby, hadn’t offered a word of support. Just as Spencer was frustratedly running his hands through his hair and drinking heavily, my call came in. “Spencer, what time are you coming back?” The nagging question instantly triggered the entire night’s pent-up anger. “Sloan, are you serious? Why are you so annoying?” “I told you I was at a meeting, and you’re still bugging me.” “Why are you so completely unreasonable now? You’re so whiny and high-maintenance.” I was stunned by the brutal outburst, and instinctively tried to explain. “I just wanted to ask you if you brought the—” “Just what? It’s true you’re useless beyond your pretty face. You can’t offer me any help at all.” “Get lost. We’re done. Get out of my apartment tonight. I never want to see you again.” The fact that he could say something that cruel proved there was no reason for us to be together anymore. I said: “Okay.” … After his tirade, Spencer hung up first. The hangers-on nearby heard enough to know they’d broken up, and they immediately started laughing and praising him. “Wow, Spence, that’s the most masculine thing you’ve done.” “Well played. Never give a woman too much power. Checking up on you during a business deal? She should be at home warming the bed.” “Don’t worry, Spencer, I’ll introduce you to some hotter, high-profile influencers.” After a round of fawning, Spencer’s depressed mood improved significantly. He thought. Right. Sloan was only good-looking. A loss he could afford. As he was toasting his friends, Spencer suddenly noticed that someone was missing from the room. “Hey, where did Rhys go?” Someone replied: “He just left with his car keys. Said he was going to pick up his girlfriend.” “Whose daughter is his girlfriend? I’ve never heard him mention her.” Spencer was suspicious. “I don’t know.” The group of guys started gossiping, running through a list of eligible women, from the oil baron’s daughter to the shipping magnate’s granddaughter. None of them fit. “That’s weird. Who could it be?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388739”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel