Category: English

I only found out when I went to collect my husband’s retirement fund. His salary wasn’t the seven hundred dollars a month he’d claimed. It was nearly three thousand. He gave me seven hundred. The other two thousand, he’d been sending, like clockwork, on the first of every month, to a woman with the last name Miller. I laid the bank statements out on the table in front of him. “All these years, you lied to me. You said you only made seven hundred a month. Even the year our son had pneumonia, you said you couldn’t spare a single dime.” “In the end, it was my mother who sold the wild ginseng she needed for her own heart condition. She traded her life for our son’s.” I stared into his eyes. “This Ms. Miller, the one who’s been getting two thousand dollars from you every month, who is she?” His lips trembled. He was about to speak when our son, Ryan, burst out of his room and snatched the papers from the table. “Mom, Mia’s mom has had it tough all these years, raising a kid on her own. Don’t go causing trouble for her.” Mia’s mom. Lily Miller. In that single moment, I understood. For thirty years of marriage, my husband had been supporting his first love. And my son, it seemed, had found himself a new mother. 1 Faced with my silence, my husband, Mark, moved his lips as if to say something. Our son, Ryan, jumped in first. “Mom, I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” But I knew. The words that tumble out in a moment of panic are always the truth. For thirty years, Mark had placed seven hundred dollars in my hand on the first of every month, without fail. In the beginning, seven hundred dollars was a decent amount. We lived comfortably. But then our son grew up. Our parents grew old. The price of everything went up, except for the money he gave me. Life became a struggle. I wanted him to have a hot meal waiting when he came home late from “overtime.” I wanted our growing son to have proper nutrition. I wanted to set aside a little something for our aging parents. So, on top of my job and running the household, I took on part-time work. Was I tired? Of course, I was. But when I looked at my happy, thriving family, I told myself it was all worth it. Now, he was telling me his salary was almost three thousand a month, and for thirty years, three-quarters of it had gone to his first love. My decades of hardship suddenly felt like a cruel joke. Seeing me silent, Mark’s expression hardened. “Laura, I’ve explained everything. What more do you want?” “Besides, we’ve managed just fine all these years. Why do you have to dig up the past?” The confusion on his face was genuine, as if I were the one being unreasonable. A bitter laugh rose in my throat. Before we were married, he had looked me in the eyes just like this and promised me the world. Back then, when I worked late, he’d wait for me at the end of the street, a warm cup of coffee in his hands, worried I’d be hungry. Now, when I’m sick in bed, he just sends a text: “Drink plenty of water.” I’d felt the change, of course, but I’d always found ways to explain it away. But the bank statements didn’t lie. Each transaction was a testament to the truth. My life, for the past thirty years, had been a lie. And I didn’t want it anymore. “Mark,” I said, my voice steady. “Let’s get a divorce.” He stared at me, stunned. He clearly hadn’t expected this. But it was our son who reacted first, his brow furrowing in disapproval. “Mom! What are you doing? Dad and Mia’s mom… I mean, Ms. Miller… there’s nothing going on between them!” “You’re too old to be throwing a fit over something so small. Aren’t you embarrassed?” I looked at my son’s indignant, accusing face and felt a chill I’d never known before. My husband’s betrayal was one thing. This was so much worse. “That’s enough, Ryan. Say less.” Mark stopped him, his face shifting into a placating expression. He took out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. My own phone buzzed. “You’ve worked hard all these years, Laura. Take this thousand dollars.” His voice softened. “Go buy that dress you were looking at the other day. You deserve to treat yourself.” See? He remembered. He always remembered the little things, my likes and dislikes. But it was always just talk. This was the first time his supposed affection came with actual money. Mark seemed to think that a thousand dollars and a few soft words were enough to smooth everything over. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and, just as he had countless nights before, headed for the balcony. Ryan shot me a glare and retreated to his room. I was left alone in the large, empty living room. The lights were warm, the furniture familiar and comforting. But in that moment, it all felt suffocating. I went to our bedroom and called my best friend. She’s been a lawyer her whole life. She would know what to do. “I’m getting a divorce.” “Yes, he’s been cheating on me. For the last thirty years.” 2 Just as I hung up with my friend, Mark came back into the bedroom from the balcony. He went through his usual nightly routine, washing up before slipping into bed. In the soft lamplight, I noticed for the first time how young he looked for a man his age. His body was still trim, his hair dark and thick, the lines on his face shallow. Time had been kind to him. And me? My gray hairs were starting to outnumber the dark ones. My face was a roadmap of wrinkles, and my body had lost its shape from years of hard labor. Perhaps it wasn’t time that had been kind to him. It was me. It was only then that I remembered: I had seen Lily Miller before. She was on a local news program, featured as a “model of the modern independent woman.” On the screen, she was dressed in a chic, expensive-looking suit, her makeup flawless, her demeanor confident and articulate. I had pointed at the TV, a mix of admiration and wistfulness in my voice. “Look at her,” I’d said to Mark. “She’s so impressive. I wish I could be a successful, independent woman like that.” What was his reaction then? He had stared at the screen for a long moment before his eyes refocused on me. His voice was casual. “Those types always have a family fortune or a rich benefactor. We can’t compare ourselves to people like that. You take care of our home, and in my eyes, that’s the best thing in the world.” I’d been a little flustered by his sudden sweet talk, and my flicker of envy had been quickly extinguished. Looking back, I realized the expression on his face as he stared at the screen wasn’t just admiration. It was pride. Pride that he had a hand in creating the radiant woman on the television. And me? On my seven hundred dollars a month, buried under an endless mountain of chores and part-time jobs, I had become a frumpy, rundown housewife who knew nothing beyond the price of groceries. “What are you staring at?” Mark noticed my gaze and frowned. I knew this was a precursor to his anger. Normally, I would have immediately looked away or changed the subject to avoid a fight. But I wasn’t going to do that anymore. I didn’t answer, just looked back down at my phone. My friend had sent over some preliminary information about the division of assets in a divorce. The phone was so old the screen was blurry. My silence clearly infuriated him. He shot up in bed, snatched the phone from my hands, and threw it to the foot of the bed. “Laura! Are you ever going to let this go?” “We’ve been together for thirty years! I never thought you were the kind of woman who only cares about money! You’d throw away our family for a little bit of cash?” Even now, he was convinced that my anger was only about the money. I almost wished I was the materialistic woman he accused me of being. Maybe then, the past thirty years wouldn’t have been so hard. I looked him straight in the eye and said, enunciating every word, “Mark, we’re getting a divorce. I’m serious.” Hearing me bring it up again, he exploded. “A divorce? Where did you learn this nonsense? Are you trying to threaten me?” “Let me tell you, it won’t work! If we really get a divorce, what will people think of me? How will I face my colleagues, our friends, our family?” “Ryan is about to get married! Do you, his mother, really want to embarrass him in front of his future in-laws?” He was panicking, but every word was about his own pride, his own image, our son’s image. My feelings didn’t even register. A wave of grief and fury washed over me. I sat up straight, my voice rising to match his. “Mark, do you have any idea what I’ve done for this family over the past thirty years?” “When your father needed that hundred-thousand-dollar bypass surgery, I used every penny of the dowry my parents gave me, and I stayed up all night doing the books for three different companies to make up the rest.” “The year Ryan got into that expensive private high school, the tuition was fifty thousand dollars. I cashed out my own company pension to pay for it. I didn’t even leave myself a safety net.” “All these years, every major expense, every financial crisis… who was the one who worked herself to the bone to fill the gaps?” The bedroom door creaked open. The shouting must have drawn Ryan out. He stood in the doorway, his face a mask of undisguised irritation and disapproval. “Mom! Have you not made enough of a scene?” “So you’ve contributed to the family. Does that give you the right to blackmail Dad now?” “No wonder you can’t compare to Aunt Lily in any way. You deserve to be this miserable!” His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I looked at his face, so much like a younger version of Mark’s. This was the son I had carried for ten months. The grandson my mother had given her life for. When Ryan was seven, he came down with a severe case of pneumonia. I couldn’t get ahold of Mark. I borrowed from every friend and relative I had, but I was still two hundred dollars short for the surgery. Without telling me, my mother sold the precious wild ginseng she relied on to manage her heart condition. The baby came home from the hospital, healthy and well. But my mother’s condition worsened, and she passed away before I could even say goodbye. And now, it was clear that neither her sacrifice nor my own had been worth anything at all. 3 In the past, after every argument, they were the ones who would storm out. This time, I was the one who left. Lying on the hotel bed, I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. In my dreams, I was back in that terrible time. My son’s face, flushed with fever. The nurses, hounding me for payment. My husband, unreachable. My mother, wasting away in her sickbed. In the end, my son got better, and my mother was gone. My husband returned from his “business trip,” looking tired and full of remorse. He said he’d taken an emergency project out of town to earn extra money for the surgery, and the signal had been bad. I believed him. I even felt sorry for him. I thought we were a pair of star-crossed lovers, supporting each other through life’s cruel storms. I never imagined that my honest, hardworking husband, with his three-thousand-dollar monthly salary, would refuse to spend a penny on his dying son, but would happily give two-thirds of his income to enrich another woman’s life. For thirty years, everyone else had moved on. Only I remained trapped in that moment of unbearable loss. The nightmare was broken by the ringing of my phone. The caller ID read “Mother-in-law.” I stared at the screen for a few seconds before answering. “Laura, dear, I know you’re hurting. What Mark did… he was wrong.” “But you two have been through so much together. Thirty years of marriage, a grown son.” “At our age, sometimes it’s better to just… turn a blind eye. Forgive and forget. It’s better for everyone. You can keep the family together, can’t you?” I clutched the phone, my fingertips cold. “Mom, you’ve known about Lily Miller all this time, haven’t you?” The line went silent. After a few seconds, I couldn’t help but laugh. This was the woman who, from the day I married into the family, had held my hand and said, “From now on, you’re my own daughter.” The woman who, every time Mark and I fought, would scold him first and always take my side. She, too, was a silent accomplice in this long, elaborate deception. The phone screen suddenly went dark. It was an old phone. The battery was shot. Sleep was now impossible. I plugged the phone in and opened my banking app. Inside was the few thousand dollars I had managed to scrape together over the years, plus the thousand Mark had “graciously” given me yesterday. The next morning, I went to the mall and bought a new phone. I’d thought about getting one before, but I was intimidated by the new technology. I’d asked my son for help. He had rolled his eyes. “Mom, you’re old. As long as your phone can make calls and send texts, that’s all you need. Anything more is a waste of money. You wouldn’t know how to use it anyway.” Now, the text was crisp and clear. The videos didn’t lag. It only cost four hundred dollars. All the hardships I had endured, I realized, were truly not worth it.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388211”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My roommate is sensitive, petty, and extremely possessive. When I saved a seat for another classmate, she cried, complaining about why I would save a seat for someone else and not her. In the cafeteria, the lunch lady gave me one more piece of meat than her. She reported the lady for negligence, causing the woman to lose her job. Even when my boyfriend wanted to come home with me for the holidays, she kept making things difficult. She claimed she had never been to a nice house and insisted on pitifully tagging along. Once we got there, she treated my parents like servants, making them wait on her hand and foot. She even asked my boyfriend to warm her bed. It all ended on my birthday. I treated my roommates to a hotpot dinner. Because I didn’t serve her food personally, she flipped the boiling pot. She disfigured my face. During the ensuing struggle, I fell. I died. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn. I was back on the first day of freshman year, the day she walked into our dorm. 01 While we were eating, my roommate, Tina, suddenly threw her chopsticks on the floor. She buried her head in her hands and started wailing. “What is wrong with you now?” My boyfriend, Ken, couldn’t help but raise his voice. Tina pouted, her eyes red rimmed. She looked at me with pure grievance. “Lynn, why did you skip me when you were serving the food just now? I waited until the meal was almost over, and I didn’t get a single piece of tripe. Do you all look down on me that much?!” The more she spoke, the more victimized she acted. Huge tears rolled down her cheeks. My grandparents couldn’t bear to see the younger generation cry. They quickly flagged the waiter. “Two more plates of tripe, please.” “Child, don’t cry,” my grandma soothed. “It was our oversight.” My parents were baffled. But having been tormented by her for the first three days of the holiday, they were somewhat used to it. They sighed, having no patience left to coax her. This scene happened at my birthday party. My family was happily eating hotpot and singing songs. My boyfriend had just cut the cake for me. The roommate who had insisted on following me home for the holiday ruined everything. She flipped the table. The spicy, boiling beef tallow splashed directly onto my face. I jumped up, screaming in pain. Through the agony, I realized everyone else was fine. The pot had been pushed specifically in my direction. I couldn’t speak. I just covered my face while my parents and grandparents frantically called for an ambulance. Ken couldn’t take it anymore. “Tina, are you crazy?! We treated you like family! It’s one thing to be a nuisance every day, but now you want to kill her?” Tina showed no remorse. She sat opposite us, arms crossed, staring coldly. “It’s not like I haven’t been burned by oil before. Relax, it won’t kill her!” She sneered. “Doesn’t she have a happy family and a perfect life? Why does she get to look down on me? Why didn’t she serve me food?” I finally snapped. The pain and the frustration exploded. “Get out! Get out of my house right now! From now on, we are strangers. I’m applying to change dorms the second school starts!” 02 Hearing that I no longer pitied her background, no longer sympathized with her poverty, and would no longer tolerate her… Tina’s expression turned evil. She rushed at me. Slap. She hit me hard across the face. My parents and Ken were downstairs dealing with the bill or waiting for the ambulance. No one was close enough to help. My grandparents tried to intervene, waving their frail hands to stop her. Tina screamed recklessly, “You said you would be good to me! You broke your word! You deserve this retribution!” I was stunned by the slap. My face, already blistered from the scald, throbbed with unbearable pain. My grandparents were over eighty years old. “Young lady, why are you hitting people?” they cried out, trying to pull her away. But how could two elderly people withstand the shove of a young woman used to farm work? One was pushed to the ground. The other clutched his heart, breathing rapidly. “Medicine… medicine…” I trembled with rage, tears mixing with the oil on my face. “Tina! You eat my food, wear my clothes, use my things, and now you hurt my family? You have no conscience! You deserve every beating your stepfather ever gave you!” Hearing me mention her abusive stepfather, her face twisted. She lost all reason. She reached out, her hands closing around my neck. I wasn’t as strong as her. She forced me back toward the stairwell. We struggled. I lost my footing. I fell down the stairs and died on the spot. … When I opened my eyes, Tina was dragging a woven plastic bag through the dorm door. She looked shy, cautious. I was making my bed on the lower bunk. She had dark skin and a small frame, but she carried a massive package. She whispered, “Classmate, I’m afraid of heights. Can I have the lower bunk?” Seeing I didn’t react immediately, she added, “If not, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry.” Her voice faded like a dying mosquito. At that moment, I knew. I was reborn. I was back on the first day of freshman year. 03 In my previous life, I was too kind. I treated her too well. That’s why she took advantage, thinking she was entitled to everything I had. In this life? Absolutely not. I didn’t even turn my head. “Sorry, I’m afraid of heights too. Ask someone else.” She persisted, ramping up the pity act. “Classmate, I’m from a village. I’ve never lived in a tall building or taken an elevator. I get scared as soon as I’m high up. Please, I’m begging you.” Before I could speak, Gloria spoke up. Gloria had short hair, a sharp tongue, and slept on the opposite top bunk. She jumped down and landed lightly on the floor. “If you’re so precious, why live in a dorm? Go rent an apartment. You can have a living room and kitchen all to yourself.” Gloria was straightforward. In my past life, her lack of empathy almost caused Tina to jump out the window in a fit of depression. I was the one who pulled Tina back. I was the one who comforted her. Because of Tina, the other roommates isolated us. I stood by her. And she repaid me with murder. In this life, I decided to cling to Gloria. She would be my voice of reason. Before I could say anything, sobbing filled the room. Tina squatted on the floor, burying her face in her knees. She looked miserable. Just then, our fourth roommate, Vanessa, walked in. Vanessa was beautiful, wealthy, and had perfect grades. She usually kept to herself. In my last life, she didn’t fall out with Tina until Tina stole her mother’s vintage haute couture gown, ruined it, and tried to sell it online. That’s when Vanessa moved out. I looked at Vanessa. She was the rich queen bee I needed to help deal with Tina. I smiled at her. “Hey, why don’t you take this lower bunk? The door is drafty, and you look like you get cold easily.” Vanessa looked at me suspiciously, then at the crying girl on the floor. She was smart. She wouldn’t take sides until she knew the score. And honestly, she disdained getting involved in our drama. 04 Hearing that I would rather give the bunk to the princess-like Vanessa than to a poor villager like her, Tina snapped. She ran out of the room crying, acting as if she’d been bullied. When she returned, she brought our Resident Advisor (RA). The RA frowned at us. “How can you discriminate against a classmate? You’re college students. Tina is from a rural area, yes, but she hasn’t done anything to you. I expect you to get along.” Gloria crossed her arms. “Who bullied her? You need evidence for accusations.” “Is whatever she says the truth? If she says we killed someone, do we go to jail tomorrow?” The RA wasn’t expecting freshmen to be this tough. She softened her tone. “Look, you’re all roommates now. It’s fate. Take a step back and compromise.” Tina thought she had won. She nodded eagerly at the RA. “Yes, Senior Sister is right!” She turned her teary eyes to Vanessa. “Classmate, please. Can I have that bunk? I’m terrified of heights.” It was a classic moral kidnapping. Vanessa looked at Tina, then at the RA staring expectantly. Vanessa came from a wealthy family; she feared no authority. She reached into her designer bag, pulled out a stack of cash—two thousand yuan—and threw it at Tina’s feet. “Go see a doctor.” Tina’s face twisted in rage. “What do you mean?!” Gloria chimed in perfectly. “She means if you’re sick, go to the hospital. Don’t try your guilt trips on us. We’re not buying it.” I almost applauded. I decided right then: Gloria is my best friend in this life.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388229”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am the vicious villainess who abandoned the superstar actor when he was down. Three years after I fled the country, he’s conquered the entertainment industry. Meanwhile, I’m a washed-up nobody. Just as I was debating whether to return, text started scrolling before my eyes: [Help! Go back now, sis! The male lead misses you so much his pillow is soaked every night.] [Not just the pillow! The sheets too! You know what I mean, sis, and it’s not tears.] [The male lead is fully recovered, physically and… otherwise. Don’t worry, sis, your future happiness is secured.] [Don’t you remember how you two were inseparable in that rental apartment?] [Don’t worry. Just crook your finger, and he’ll come running like a puppy.] 1 The night Julian Thorne announced his relationship, our three names exploded on the trending search. I never thought I’d share a headline with Julian again. After all, since I heartlessly dumped him three years ago, we’d cut all ties. I stared at the trending topics in a daze. I never imagined our “reunion” would be this awkward. Especially since it was his relationship announcement. The partner was the current top starlet, Ivy Miller. And I, sandwiched between them, looked like a joke. Julian is red-hot right now. It’s normal for his dating history to be dug up. So now, I’m the target of everyone’s scorn. At Julian’s lowest point, I, his girlfriend, abandoned him without hesitation. Fans from both sides united to blast me to the number one trending spot. This is the most searched I’ve ever been in my career. Of course, it’s all hate. And some people just enjoying the drama. [Yo yo yo, didn’t this girl hook up with a sugar daddy and run abroad to live the high life? Why so quiet now?] [Scarlett Reed thought dumping Julian would launch her international career? Didn’t expect to not even touch Hollywood’s door after all this time.] [So washed up she’s clinging to the movie king? Hilarious, does she think she’s the ‘white moonlight’?] [Ignore her, sisters. This trending topic was obviously bought by a scheming woman; just a has-been trying to get traffic.] [Exactly!! Today is Julian and Ivy’s announcement day, and here she is dancing around. Speechless.] [Help, can the ex let my brother go? If it wasn’t for being with you back then, would he have been so miserable?!] 2 Scrolling through the screen full of hate posts, I was speechless too. They call me washed up, so where would I get the money to buy trending topics? But the comments did get one thing right. The one flourishing after leaving Julian wasn’t me. Indeed. Once I left, Julian’s tragic first half of life was rewritten. Found by his wealthy biological parents, acknowledged by his ancestors, then spotted by a big director and shooting to fame. Without me, he finally lived the life a male lead should. And met the heroine who would save him. And I, who abandoned him, am now too poor to afford food. Karma’s a wheel, huh? I wanted to ignore the endless hate trends. But the heat wouldn’t die down. One topic even surpassed Ivy’s official announcement post in likes. Some damn marketing account applied the famous “library thirty seconds” trope to Julian and me. [Julian, in the thirty seconds of announcing your relationship with Ivy, were you hoping for a lifetime with her, or reminiscing about the whispers with Scarlett in that rental apartment?] I sucked in a cold breath. They really want me dead. 3 I was speechless. And my agent was urging me to return. “Scarlett, if you don’t come back, you’ll be sleeping on the streets with the homeless.” But returning now would look like blatant clout chasing. I’d only get scolded worse. My agent dismissed it. “So what? Is it worse than starving?” As I hesitated, a stream of text suddenly floated before my eyes: [Help, what are you thinking, sis? Rush back home now!] [So what if he announced? The puppy still loves you.] [The deeper the hurt, the deeper the love.] [Ahhhh, go back quickly, sis! I’ve had enough of the naive, sweet heroine.] [I love a villainess with brains and ambition who slays the whole book. Men are just stepping stones for your success.] I was confused. I’m the villainess? A villainess who abandoned the male lead, was vain and unscrupulous, and ended up losing everything? But why are the comments praising me? Shouldn’t they be spitting on me? Scolding and cursing me? Why is everyone whitewashing me? And it’s impossible for Julian to be like the comments say. He hates me too much. How could he love me? With his current status in the industry, crushing me would be effortless. But I can’t survive abroad anymore. Calculating it all, it’s death either way. I decided not to struggle and just bought a ticket home. 4 This is the era where traffic is king. Whether it’s hate or love, as long as there’s heat and topics, collaborations will come knocking. However, I didn’t expect the first drama I’d get after returning would have Ivy Miller as the female lead. Julian’s girlfriend. I understood the production team approached me because of the heat surrounding this. Otherwise, a washed-up actress ignored for three years like me wouldn’t even land a web series. Only, taking this means getting roasted to crisp. Sure enough, on the day of the announcement, I was sprayed to the top trend again. [Never seen such a shameless woman. Want to be famous that badly? What about your parents?!] [Probably doesn’t have any.] [Lol, vicious second female lead. She’s just playing herself.] [Poor Ivy baby, leeched off-screen, bullied on-screen.] [Can’t the production find any other actresses?] [Where’s Julian? Just watching this? Tell Scarlett to get out of the industry.] [Passerby here, kinda looking forward to Julian’s reaction when he visits the set.] [Fans, step up, take more set photos and we’ll know.] I swiped through the screen casually; all trash talk spraying me. Unbearable to look at. Until those words caught my eye: [What do you guys think Julian is thinking right now?] I froze. Took a deep breath and lay on the bed, staring into space. What would he be thinking? [Silly sister, thinking of you, of course.] I saw the comments again. [Sis, with your methods, do you even need to wonder?] [Stand in front of him and you’ll know. Stop thinking useless thoughts.] [Hehe, men just love to pretend. Sis, believe it or not, the moment your plane landed, his heart landed too.] [So exciting, begging for a tutorial on training dogs, Sister Scarlett.] God. What exactly did I do to Julian later? Why are there such explicit descriptions? My face flushed red. Heart racing. No. He clearly hates me. I can still never forget the shattered look in Julian’s eyes in the rain that year. He begged me humbly, “Scarlett, don’t go.” “I’ll get better, I’ll earn lots of money, please don’t go.” Back then, I only had eyes for wealth and fame. And the crippled Julian couldn’t give me any of that; he would even drag me down. I coldly shook him off, my gaze falling on his legs that couldn’t stand. “Stop dreaming, Julian.” His lips trembled at my words, and he didn’t say another word to keep me. Then he watched helplessly as I got into the Maybach and drove away. Such betrayal is fatal to any man. He would only hate me. Every minute, every second.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388245”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mom is a kleptomaniac who’s afraid of getting caught, so she’s always used me as a shield. When I was little, she’d hide stolen candy in my pockets, then loudly blame me: “Why are you so greedy? I’ll sew your mouth shut at home!” To look good to the neighbors, she even stopped buying me formula, stunting my growth. Later, she stole a friend’s iPhone from their house and, when caught, cried, “How could I raise such a bad child!” My friend left me, and I was isolated at school. I ended up working in a factory after graduation. On my wedding day, she slipped my mother-in-law’s gold necklace into my purse. When it went missing, she disowned me publicly: “You’re still stealing from your mother-in-law? You’re a disgrace!” The video spread, and everyone called me a gold-digger. I jumped into a river in despair. When I opened my eyes, I was back in that supermarket, hearing my mom tell the cashier I stole the candy. I looked up innocently and said sweetly, “Mommy, you put the candy in my pocket. Why are you lying?” 1 The words hung in the air. My mother’s face instantly flushed a deep shade of crimson. Without a second thought, she clamped her hand over my mouth. “You naughty girl,” she hissed, “how dare you lie after you’ve been caught!” I looked at her face, twisted with guilt and panic, and a storm of hatred and fury surged within me. This was the face that had ruined my life. I knew why she had this sickness. Growing up, she was convinced my grandparents favored her younger sister, my aunt, giving her all the things that should have been hers. But I remembered clearly—my aunt wore my mother’s old clothes and played with her old toys. Despite the reality, this false sense of deprivation clung to her like a toxic vine for her entire life. After she got married, she started shopping compulsively, racking up crippling credit card debt. When my father left, it only got worse. Stealing was the only way she could feel that pathetic, twisted thrill of getting something for nothing. I used to feel sorry for her. I naively believed that if I just grew up, made money, and gave her the best of everything, I could cure her. I was wrong. Every time she was caught, she threw me in front of her as a human shield without a moment’s hesitation. From a few scallions at the market to my mother-in-law’s gold necklace at my wedding, she built her own innocence on the ruins of my reputation and my life. I was condemned by everyone, branded a gold-digger, and scorned by the world until I finally threw myself into the cold, dark river. This time, I would not be her scapegoat. I couldn’t save her, but I had to save myself. The memory faded, and the stares of the people around the checkout counter felt like needles on my skin. I pried her hand from my mouth and, with all the strength my small body could muster, I shouted in my most childlike voice, “My teacher at daycare said we can’t touch anything in the supermarket! We have to wait for the cashier lady to go ‘beep,’ and for mommy and daddy to pay the money. Otherwise, it’s stealing!” I looked up at her, my voice filled with faux concern. “Mommy, you’re a grown-up. Why don’t you listen to the teacher? Why do you have to steal? Look, even Jane is a good girl!” My voice cracked with staged fear. “Mommy, the teacher said a policeman will come and take you away if you steal! Please put the candy back! What if the policeman comes?” I let my eyes well up with tears, perfectly playing the part of a good child terrified by her misbehaving parent. 2 I was giving her one last chance. If she admitted her mistake right then, showed even a flicker of remorse, maybe there was still a sliver of hope for us. But she reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her voice shrieking. “When did you learn to lie like this? Everyone, be my witness! I’m a grown woman. Do you really think I, who can have anything I want, would steal a cheap lollipop?” As she spoke, she poked my forehead with a look of profound disappointment. “Have I starved you? Have I not given you enough? Is this how you repay me, by humiliating me in public?” I wasn’t going to give her another chance to perform. My heart was no longer soft. My voice was clear and crisp, not loud, but sharp enough for everyone who was pretending not to listen to hear every word. “Mommy, in your pocket, after you weighed the scallions, you secretly added some expensive garlic to the bag.” Her face froze. I pointed to the clip in her hair. “And that barrette on your head. You took it from the shelf, and when no one was looking, you ripped off the price tag and put it right in your hair.” A wave of stifled gasps rippled through the crowd. My mother’s lips trembled. She couldn’t form a single word. In a fit of rage and shame, she raised her hand and slapped me. The sharp crack echoed in the suddenly silent supermarket aisle. My cheek stung with a fiery pain. “Hey! What kind of mother hits her own child?” A woman with curly hair, one of our neighbors, stepped in and pulled me behind her. “You can teach a child if they’re wrong, but you don’t hit them!” “Exactly! We all saw it. The kid was making perfect sense. You’re only hitting her because you’re guilty!” another person added. The cashier’s face hardened. She pressed a button on her console. “Manager, security, we have a shoplifter over here, and she’s hitting her child. Please come handle this.” My mother was completely cornered. Faced with the contemptuous stares and the approaching security guards, she had no choice but to grit her teeth, pay for everything she’d taken, and pay a hefty fine on top of it. After that incident, my mother’s carefully crafted image as a simple, honest woman in our neighborhood was shattered. She had to behave herself for a while. To put on a show of being a good mother, she even went out of her way to have someone buy expensive imported formula for me, terrified I might say something else to expose her. But at night, when we were alone, she would stare at me with eyes full of poison, as if I were her mortal enemy. That repressed anger finally found an outlet at my aunt’s wedding. This time, she went for something big. At the wedding, I was the flower girl, dressed in a beautiful princess gown, carrying the ring box. Just before it was time to walk down the aisle, I opened the velvet box. It was empty. The ring was gone. Before I could even panic, my mother’s shrill cry echoed through the backstage area. “Oh my god! Jane! How… how could you steal your aunt’s ring?!” She snatched the empty box from my hands and rushed out to face the crowd, tears streaming down her face on command. She beat her chest in despair. “You have shamed me! How could you touch something so valuable?” 3 My aunt, Claire, instinctively pulled me behind her, frowning at my mother. “Sis, don’t scare her.” My aunt and my mother had a complicated relationship. My grandparents did have a favorite, but it was my mother. Aunt Claire grew up wearing my mother’s hand-me-downs and playing with her old toys. The fact that my mother still believed she was the one who had been mistreated just shows how subtly and completely my grandparents had spoiled her. Now that they were grown, my aunt wanted to mend their relationship, but my mother was resentful and constantly made sarcastic remarks. The fact that my aunt had married well and her husband was throwing her a lavish wedding after the birth of my cousin, Leo, had pricked my mother’s fragile ego. She was practically insane with jealousy. So, of course, she wasn’t going to let the wedding go off without a hitch. In my last life, because of the supermarket incident, my aunt already harbored doubts about me. She believed I had bad character and gave a coveted spot at a top elementary school to someone else in exchange for getting my mother a cushy job as a dorm supervisor there. My mom had it easy. This time, the supermarket scandal was over. I couldn’t let my aunt misunderstand me again. I lowered my head, feigning shame. “I didn’t steal the ring… I might have lost it by accident. But… but why did Mommy’s first thought was that I stole it?” I directed this question at my aunt. My mother realized she had acted too hastily. But in front of all our relatives, at the wedding of the sister she envied most, she couldn’t possibly admit to stealing the ring. Her reputation would be ruined. She had to pin it on me. It was the perfect way to save herself and punish me for my disobedience at the supermarket. She immediately adopted a heartbroken expression. “Claire, my dear sister, I’m not accusing her without reason! This child has always had sticky fingers. She steals erasers at school, candy from the store… and if I say anything, she talks back! It’s all my fault. I haven’t been a good mother!” She was a masterful actress, portraying a long-suffering single mother betrayed by her wicked daughter. In an instant, she had stolen the spotlight from the bride. The relatives began to whisper. “Well, it’s not easy raising a child alone. She can’t watch her every second.” “That kid has some nerve, causing trouble at an event like this. She’s just bad to the bone.” “So greedy at such a young age, stealing something so expensive. What will she be like when she grows up? No one will want to marry her.” The tide of opinion turned against me. Aunt Claire looked at my mother’s pitiful performance, and her resolve began to waver. A look of guilt crossed her face. “Sis, she’s still young. You can still teach her.” Seeing that she was about to be convinced, I panicked. I grabbed her dress. “Auntie Claire, you can’t think that! It hurts Jane’s feelings!” I cried out. “At the supermarket, it was Mommy who was stealing, and she blamed me! My teacher said that’s called slander!” I stood up as straight as I could. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask the ladies in our neighborhood!” My conviction seemed to sway her again. A flicker of sympathy for me returned to her eyes. Sensing she was losing control, my mother unleashed her ultimate weapon: a full-blown tantrum. She plopped down on the floor and began wailing, slapping her thighs. “Why is my life so hard! My parents and my sister bullied me when I was a kid, and now my own daughter is doing it!” She pointed a trembling finger at my aunt. “Claire! You invited me here today just to make a fool of me, didn’t you! I told you not to make Jane the flower girl, I was afraid she’d cause trouble, but you never listen! It’s always been this way! Everything has to be your way, and Mom and Dad always told me to let you have it! I’m the older sister!” She was building to a crescendo. “And now my daughter steals something and blames it on me, and you take her side! You spoil her rotten, and now she doesn’t even respect me, her own mother! Fine! It’s your big day, I won’t make things difficult. Fine! You win! I stole the ring, okay? I’ll pay you back! Is that what you want to hear?!” 4 My aunt was overwhelmed with guilt. In her mind, my mother had never done anything truly terrible, and her heartbroken cries seemed genuine. Her wavering resolve finally snapped, and she sided with my mother. I knew this would happen. My aunt was soft-hearted, and my mother was a professional victim. After years of a tangled sisterly bond, it was inevitable. Still, a bitter sadness washed over me. In this drama, I was completely alone. Tears, real ones this time, began to fall. I sniffled and said in a small, choked voice, “Auntie Claire, Mommy said she wanted to check the ring box, so I gave it to her. When I got it back, the ring was gone.” I thought the tears of a six-year-old might earn me some compassion. But instead of comfort, I was met with my aunt’s suddenly icy gaze. “Jane, who taught you to say all that?” Her voice was stripped of all its former warmth. “Your mother wouldn’t hurt you. But you, at such a young age, you’ve already mastered the art of twisting the truth! If I hadn’t known your mother my whole life, I might have actually been fooled by you!” My uncle, Mark, holding my baby cousin who was sucking on his fist, added his own sarcastic comment. “We’ll have to be careful how we raise our son. Sis, raising a child on your own is so tough. We should have been more considerate.” His words were meant to comfort my mother, but they were another knife in my heart. My grandparents, who had always been kind to me, were now shaking their heads in disappointment. “Stealing and lying at her age… what will become of her?” “What a disgrace to the family.” The other relatives all started pointing and whispering. My mother, seeing her victory, stopped crying. A triumphant smirk flickered across her face. She had successfully made me the villain and deepened my aunt’s guilt towards her all at once. My heart sank. I had nothing left to lose. “No, Auntie Claire! Why would I take your ring? It was Mommy! She’s jealous of you and Uncle Mark! She wanted to steal the ring so you couldn’t get married!” My aunt’s face darkened completely. She looked at me with profound disappointment and said, each word a hammer blow, “The spot at the elementary school next year… you can forget about it. If I recommended you and you started stealing from your classmates, how could I ever show my face again?” My grandparents immediately cooed over my baby cousin. “Look at you, Leo. Mommy is so good to you, and you’re so grateful and sweet. Your cousin is six years old and still so naughty.” My mother was still leaning on my aunt’s shoulder, sobbing quietly, but the corner of her mouth was turned up in a smile no one else could see. I looked at their cold, accusing faces, and I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. In the suffocating silence, my baby cousin, who had been quiet in my uncle’s arms, suddenly stretched out a chubby little hand and pointed at a round camera on the ceiling in the corner of the room. “Jane… no steal…” he babbled. “Look… black ball! Ball… know!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388261”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend, Liam, got amnesia. He forgot he was gay. He forgot me. Chasing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I didn’t plan on doing it a second time. Coincidentally, his mother also hoped he could return to his “original” life track. I compromised and went back to being a stranger in his life. But when I pretended not to know him as I walked by, he suddenly pulled me into his arms. “Sorry if I offended you… it was muscle memory saying I should hug you.” 1 Before going to sleep, I remembered another one of Liam’s flaws and noted it down: [ severe procrastination, always waits until midnight to shower. ] Scrolling down the screen, I had already listed more than twenty items after racking my brains these past few days. I thought, when I hit fifty, I could completely let go of Liam. Liam was my boyfriend, a straight guy I had chased for a long time. He got amnesia. He forgot he was gay, and he forgot me. And there was almost no possibility of recovering his memory. This blow to me was no different from painstakingly setting up dominoes, only for them to suddenly collapse halfway through, wasting all previous efforts. We were both people with distinct personalities, and it took a long time to smooth things out between us. Compromising with each other, yielding to each other, changing ourselves to fit the other person. Just as life was getting more and more harmonious, the progress bar suddenly reset to zero. When his accident happened, I was on a business trip. Rushing back, I saw him smiling and joking with a beautiful nurse. I already knew the diagnosis on the way, but I still wondered if he was pranking me. Seeing that familiar yet strange smile, I realized it was real. He noticed me by the door, looked me up and down with an inquisitive gaze, and finally gave me a friendly nod. That distant attitude made my world spin, and I couldn’t breathe. Liam’s mother supported me and led me aside. Two years ago, she was very dissatisfied with me turning her son gay, but finally compromised out of helplessness. This accident, she said to me, might be a good thing. Sure enough, she held my hand and pleaded: “Alex, can you let him go and let him live a normal person’s life?” Erasing chat records, deleting photo albums, informing mutual friends. Exiting someone’s world turned out to be so simple. 2 Liam left quite a few things in our small home. I packed them all up and sent them back to the Zhou family. I confirmed with his mother that Liam wasn’t there before going, but unexpectedly ran into him returning just as I was leaving. As the elevator doors opened, he twirled his car keys, his eyes meeting mine, and let out an “Ah”. “It’s you.” He stepped aside. “Did you come to see me? I’m fine now. Thanks for coming.” I quickly controlled my expression and stepped out of the elevator. “No, I heard from your mom.” Liam hesitated to speak, looking a bit embarrassed. “Um… sorry, I lost a few years of memory, so I don’t really remember who you are… To visit me at home, was our relationship pretty good? Were we colleagues?” Although I was mentally prepared, hearing him say this still caused a dull pain in my heart, and endless bitterness welled up. Forcing down the surging emotions, I tried to keep my voice steady: “Yeah. We were in the same project group. I’m Alex. When you return to work, I can help you catch up.” Liam’s expression relaxed, revealing a grateful smile. “Thanks. Want to come up and sit for a while?” I could tell it was just politeness. Not long after we got together, Liam took me home. I wandered downstairs, hugging a pillar, afraid to go up. He hoisted me onto his shoulder and carried me into the elevator, trapping me in the corner so I had nowhere to run. At that time, he smiled and comforted me: “Don’t worry, my mom doesn’t hit people. If she really does, I’ll carry you and run.” I looked at Liam, who was wearing a distant smile now, and lowered my eyes. “No need. See you at the company.” Back in the car, I opened the memo app, fingers trembling as I noted another one: [ Taste regressed, the cologne he chose smells awful. ] Almost 30 items now. The progress I anticipated was already halfway done. But no matter how many flaws I came up with, none could erase even a bit of his weight in my heart. I leaned back against the seat and sighed, when suddenly there was a knock on the car window. It was Liam. I rolled down the window, and he leaned down to look at me. “Maybe I’m being nosy, but are you really okay? You looked a bit pale just now.” I rubbed my face: “It’s nothing, maybe just a bit tired.” “Should I call a designated driver for you? I got into an accident because I was distracted while driving, better to be cautious.” No one knew what he went out to do that day. A few days before the accident, I vaguely felt he was hiding something from me, but I was never one to get to the bottom of things. Now that the person involved had forgotten everything cleanly, I would never know. “Thank you.” After being thanked by him so many times these past two days, I finally returned one. “But don’t worry, I value my life very much, I’ll be careful driving.” 3 I didn’t tell him that actually, we weren’t just colleagues, we were also college roommates for a year. In my senior year, I took a year off due to illness. When I returned, I was assigned to Liam’s dorm. I originally thought that in the last year, most people would be studying or preparing for exams, so there wouldn’t be much interaction. But Liam swaggered into my life just like that. Considering my poor health during recovery, he fetched food for me, ran to the counselor for materials, accompanied me to follow-up checks, and even guarded outside while I showered, worried I might suddenly faint. He said: “We’re bros, I should do it.” If it were before, I would never provoke a straight guy. But after hovering between life and death—what’s there to restrain? I’m going to date the person I like, dammit. If he’s straight, then I’ll bend him. I want to live in the moment. I chased him for more than half a year, but didn’t succeed even by graduation. On the day of leaving school, I put the offer from the same company as him and the flight ticket back to my hometown in front of him, asking him to choose one for me. He glanced at it and said: “Stop chasing so dryly.” Hearing this, my heart died completely. I pulled my suitcase and was about to leave. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. I fell onto his lap, and before I could react, he held the back of my neck and kissed me hard. “Can’t you just kiss me directly?” 4 Liam’s return to work happened half a month later. The leader arranged a colleague for him to guide him back into the workflow. Amidst a circle of greetings and inquiries, he cast a puzzled look at me. I sat outside the crowd, head down, drinking water. He took the casual lie I told that day seriously. Unsurprisingly, he blocked me in the pantry. “Alex, why isn’t it you?” “I’ve been a bit busy lately.” I shoveled creamer into my coffee cup, masking my guilt. “So the team leader arranged someone else. He’s very capable, you’ll be fine with him.” “But… I asked others, and they said our relationship isn’t good at all, we barely talked.” … I thought for a moment and said sincerely: “They’re right. It’s just that I’m a person whose love overflows easily. Even when the cleaning lady sprained her ankle, I went to visit her.” Liam shut his mouth. His gaze moved down to my coffee cup, half filled with white powder. “You can’t drink that, non-dairy creamer is bad for your health.” These words, this tone, made me dazed for a moment, thinking he hadn’t lost his memory. Liam didn’t let me eat junk food, he was very strict. Every time I craved junk food, I could only order takeout behind his back. I’m really not good at disguising, always getting caught. On the days I got caught, he would torment me until dawn, claiming to help me metabolize it quickly. I smiled, brewed it in front of him, and gulped down a big mouthful. “I just like this cheap taste.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, clearly forcing words back down. “If there’s nothing else, hurry back to work.” I wasn’t sure if I stayed alone with him any longer, I might say something I shouldn’t. As I walked past him, an arm suddenly blocked my stomach, gently pulling me in. I blinked slowly. That second seemed to be infinitely prolonged. Body heat separated by two layers of clothes, a firm chest, warm breath on the back of my neck. I froze on the spot, and Liam immediately pulled back. He looked down at his hand in bewilderment, his devastatingly handsome face now flushed red. “Sorry, sorry.” He stammered, apologizing in panic, “I don’t know what happened, suddenly just…” Truly strange. The brain doesn’t remember, but the body has its own memory? Liam and I were an underground office couple. Others only knew we didn’t communicate much and had an average relationship. But they didn’t know about our fingers intertwining in crowded elevators, bold hugs in the empty pantry, kisses masked by the sound of machines in the copy room. Perhaps having done these things too many times, the body already had inertia.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388278”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my twentieth birthday, the “real daughter” who had been stolen at birth suddenly showed up at our doorstep, crying that I had stolen her life. Unlike the timid real daughters in novels, she adhered to the “fight and grab” principle. From the moment she entered the house, she targeted me under the pretext of “taking back everything that belongs to her.” Whenever my parents showed me a little concern, she would cut her wrists and cry: “Your biological daughter suffered so much, yet you feel sorry for a thief. I’ll die to make you regret this!” My parents were so scared they had to coax her everywhere, ignoring and neglecting me. Even my fiancé fell under her spell, feeling sorry for her and scolding me: “Chloe suffered so much because of you, and you still provoke her? You are too vicious!” I defended myself, argued, but in the end, I could only swallow the humiliation alone. Until the World Ski Championships, where I was just one final race away from the gold medal. That was my lifelong dream. But the night before the competition, Lucas broke into my room and snapped my skis. “Tanya, you are a ski coach, you have enough gold medals. But if Chloe doesn’t get the gold medal, she will jump off a building. You’ve enjoyed the blessings in her name for so long, this is what you owe her.” “Tomorrow, announce that you are withdrawing from the competition due to a bad mood. It has nothing to do with anyone else. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee the lives of your club members.” This time, I didn’t make a scene. I just stared quietly at the skis broken in half and smiled: “Okay.” As long as you can afford the price. 1 Hearing this, Lucas suddenly lowered his brows and warned in a low voice: “Tanya, you are a fake daughter. Sooner or later you will be kicked out of the Tang family. When that time comes, you can only rely on me. I advise you not to play tricks and make Chloe sad again.” “Otherwise, I will reconsider my marriage partner.” “Whatever.” I shrugged indifferently. Lucas was furious. He snorted coldly and slammed the door as he left with a dark face. I sneered, pressed the stop button on the camera on my chest, and walked straight to the window to look at tomorrow’s track. Just then, a message popped up on the screen: “Lucas said that he will definitely help me get the gold medal that belongs to me. Look, he always stands on my side.” “You fake, you have occupied my life for so many years and enjoyed everything that should have been mine. It’s time to return it bit by bit!” When I was twenty, Chloe Su jumped out at my birthday party and said she was the real daughter. Her reason for claiming kinship was dramatic. She said she was the real daughter swapped by the nanny with her own child. And I was that nanny’s child. My parents questioned it immediately. Wealthy people’s children are not so easily swapped. But she was different from those timid real daughters in novels. She didn’t panic at all. She directly took out a paternity test to completely confirm her identity as the real daughter. Then she rushed over and forcefully tore off the exquisite diamond crown on my head and all the jewelry on my body, putting them all on herself, self-righteously: “Give them back to me! A fake daughter like you has no right to wear these things!” “I am the eldest miss of the Tang family. Today’s birthday party is also to celebrate for me. You, a thief and fake who stole someone else’s life, should leave sensibly!” I grew up in my parents’ love and had never suffered such grievances. At that moment, my hair was messy, and there were deep red marks on my neck and wrists. I stood there at a loss. My parents wanted to come over and hug me in distress, but Chloe “tsk-ed” and rolled her eyes at me: “Will you fake daughters die if you don’t pretend to be pitiful for a day?” “Mom, Dad, you have been bewitched by this fake. I am your biological daughter. How can you treat me like this?” My parents were bluffed by her, looking at her and then at me, their faces full of hesitation and dilemma. “Although you are our biological daughter, Tanya…” Before they finished speaking, Chloe quit. She sat on the ground and cried loudly: “Enough! Are you going to say that only Tanya is your treasure and tell me not to dream of replacing her?” “Fine! I want everyone to see your bias!” Half of the socialites were there at the time, and her crying attracted the attention of many guests. My parents’ faces were extremely ugly, so they could only let me go home to rest first. Before leaving, Chloe snatched my diamond-encrusted high heels. If my parents hadn’t stopped her, even my haute couture dress wouldn’t have been saved. I returned home embarrassed and lost. My fiancé Lucas, who had specially rushed back from abroad to celebrate my birthday, was furious when he found out. He hugged me and swore to me: “Tanya, don’t worry, you still have me. I won’t allow anyone to bully you.” I was very moved at that time, hugging him and venting all my grievances and panic. At first, he did it, making Chloe cry again and again. But in less than three months, he became Chloe’s most loyal dog, turning his gun to deal with me. Just like today. He knew that winning the skiing championship was my dream and promised to protect me for a lifetime, but he still forced me to give it to Chloe. Truly ridiculous. Feeling the arrogance between the lines of Chloe’s message, I couldn’t be bothered to respond and turned off the screen. I wanted to wait until the competition was over. But since you insist on running into the muzzle, don’t blame me for being impolite. 2 The next day, the World Championship finals were the center of attention. The camera focused on me, and I spoke slowly: “Due to poor personal condition, I cannot complete the competition in my best state. After careful consideration, I have decided to withdraw from the World Championship finals. All responsibilities are borne by me alone and have nothing to do with others.” As soon as the words fell, the scene was in an uproar. The real-time live broadcast on the LED screen was instantly drowned by bullet comments. “Running away before the battle? So disappointing!” “What kind of athlete has such a poor mentality? Heard she’s a coach too. How can she teach others with such trash skills?” “I liked her so much before, I really misjudged her!” Not far away, Chloe was nestled in Lucas’s arms, her eyes full of triumph and provocation. I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention and walked off the stage expressionlessly. Chloe, who had been ready for a long time, cast a confident and charming smile in Lucas’s direction. Since returning, she couldn’t wait to declare everywhere that she was the real daughter of the Tang family, degrading me as a fake daughter who occupied the magpie’s nest and wanted to frame her at all times. I questioned her, but she said I didn’t do it because I was discovered by her and felt guilty. She also used me to gain followers under the banner of “slapping the fake’s face,” marketing herself as a cool novel heroine. Now as soon as she appeared, the atmosphere at the scene instantly reached a climax. The live broadcast room also boiled over because of her. “Snow Goddess Chloe Su is the athlete we should chase, throwing a certain deserter ten streets behind!” “Ahhh, the look Chloe gave President Lucas was so sweet. Although Tanya is the one engaged to President Lucas, I believe Chloe and President Lucas are true love! Some fakes can’t be jealous!” “Character is strength. Chloe has been wandering outside for so many years but is still kind and hardworking. She deserves to succeed! Fake daughter Tanya who stole Chloe’s identity should get out of the sports circle early!” Outside the venue, Lucas stared at the blue figure, the tightly pursed corners of his mouth finally curling into a smile. The moment she finished the competition, he immediately stood up to applaud and cheer for her. The large screen at the scene timely gave a split-screen close-up of me and her. On one side was me, pale and solitary. On the other was the radiant new champion. The contrast was stark. She held the gold medal, tears flashing in her eyes facing the camera, her voice choked. “To have today, I want to thank Brother Lucas the most. Without his support and trust… I couldn’t have come this far…” Cheers inside and outside the venue came wave after wave. I walked back to the lounge alone. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I unlocked the screen, and Chloe’s photo in the family group came into view. In the photo, she leaned into Lucas’s arms, clutching the gold medal tightly, smiling brilliantly. “Thank you, Mom, Dad, and Brother Lucas for your support! Although it’s a pity that sister withdrew today, I will work hard for her dream too!” The next second, my parents’ replies popped up. Mom: [Chloe is amazing, Mom is proud of you.] Dad: [Not bad, guard against arrogance and rashness, keep working hard.] I stared at the tender dialogue on the screen and sneered. Exiting the chat interface, social media platforms had already exploded. The news headlines pushed were meaner one after another. “Irony! Tang family’s useless fake daughter Tanya loses to pressure and flees before battle, heroine real daughter Chloe Su carries the banner to win glory for the country!” The comment section was full of filth. I turned off my phone expressionlessly. On the ground, the pair of skis broken by Lucas himself still lay there quietly. I walked over, slowly squatted down, fingertips lightly brushing the jagged cross-section. Memory was violently pulled back to that summer. When I was fourteen, he mysteriously pulled me under a plane tree and presented a long, exquisitely packaged object from behind like a treasure. “For you, Tanya.” His eyes were shining, as if full of stars. I opened the package; inside was a pair of skis. Two words were carved on it: Lucas & Tanya. He scratched his head, ears a little red. “Tanya, I heard you’re going skiing. Use this from now on.” “When you learn, we’ll go skiing together every winter.” He looked at me, eyes burning. “I’ll accompany you. Wherever you go, I’ll accompany you.” “If you become an athlete in the future, then I will only applaud for you alone.” The sunlight that day spilled through the gaps in the plane tree leaves, dancing on him, exceptionally bright. Later, I really embarked on the path of skiing. I used many more expensive skis and won countless medals and honors. But this pair of skis was always by my side. Every important competition, bringing it along, I always felt exceptionally at ease. We once hugged and kissed in front of these skis. After I won my first national championship, he hugged me tightly and said in my ear: “Tanya, I knew you could do it.” The vow was still in my ears, but the person had long changed. In a trance, a voice suddenly came to my ear. 3 “Chloe needs a better venue for training. Give her the specially approved training hall, and your Snow Wing Club, give it to her too.” I looked up. Lucas stood beside me at some point. He paused, his tone carrying a trace of disgust. “After all, you enjoyed preferential treatment for more than twenty years with her identity, while she suffered for more than twenty years. This counts as a little compensation for her wandering outside in the past.” “Tanya, you owe her this.” “I don’t owe her.” I interrupted him, my tone cold and hard. “Since you believe whatever she says, don’t come to me.” “You said you wouldn’t touch the club. My things, I won’t give an inch.” Lucas snorted coldly, tone disgusted. “Tanya, you always have this self-righteous tough look, as if the whole world owes you.” “Chloe is understanding and grateful. Can’t you learn from her and change your bad temper?” “Also, I am not asking for your opinion. The handover will be completed tomorrow morning.” The man who once said he would protect me for a lifetime now turned against me because of a sentence from another woman. It would be a lie to say it didn’t hurt. But I don’t know when it started to change. Probably that time, Chloe habitually picked a fight at the dinner table: “Some people have good stomachs and can eat such oily Spicy Chicken. Poor me, I have never had enough to eat since I was a child, my stomach is bad, and I feel uncomfortable eating it.” If it were before, Lucas would only say annoyedly: “Get out if you don’t eat.” But that time he immediately raised his hand, moved the dish I had just touched far away, and said to me: “You eat something else.” And Chloe, eating the food Lucas personally picked for her, was like winning a battle, lifting her chin to cast a proud and mocking look. Or maybe that time I fancied a limited edition necklace and used connections to get a reservation. Chloe saw the photo and showed a little envy in front of Lucas. “The fake enjoys everything, the real one can only struggle to survive.” The next day, the necklace that should have belonged to me appeared on Chloe’s neck. When I questioned him, Lucas just frowned. “It’s just a necklace, when did you become so calculating? Chloe hasn’t lived a good life before, what’s wrong with making her happy?” “In the end, your mom is the murderer who caused her to wander outside.” Also, the most chilling time for me was when scratches inexplicably appeared on Chloe’s skis. She insisted with red eyes that I did it. Lucas didn’t even investigate, looked at me with a frown immediately, and scolded: “Tanya, I know you are angry, but don’t use such despicable means.” Such things became countless later. From being aggrieved at the beginning, I became too lazy to care later. Pulling away from the memories, I took a deep breath and made a phone call to arrange the handover matters. Since Chloe wants it so much, I’ll give it to her. Just don’t know if she has the life to enjoy it. The handover ceremony was arranged very high-profile. Chloe wore a tailor-made high-end suit, exquisite makeup, standing in the position that originally belonged to me. She secretly curled her lips, unconcealable pride in her eyes and brows. “Sister, don’t worry, I will definitely run the club better and won’t disappoint the expectations of you and Brother Lucas.” She looked at me, eyes full of showing off. I didn’t speak, just nodded gently. No one knew, as early as last night. All the core materials and members of the club were quietly transferred by me. The current club is just a glamorous empty shell. As I expected, a few days after taking over the club, Chloe started her tricks again. Anonymous former team members suddenly started exposing me online. Saying I got into several important competitions through the back door, and even posted a few blurry screenshots of evidence. Immediately after, more black material about me kept popping up. Saying I bullied newcomers and squeezed out potential juniors relying on my money. Public opinion was ignited again. 4 When Lucas found me with those black materials, his eyes were full of undisguised disgust and warning, “Tanya, I didn’t expect you to be so unbearable behind the scenes.” “Chloe is simple and pure-minded. You’d better behave yourself and don’t have any crooked thoughts to hurt her.” I chuckled lightly, voice sarcastic: “Lucas, when you came to question me with these things of unknown origin, claiming I was vicious and unbearable, did you ever think about how many years we have known each other?” “A full twenty years, can’t it compare to a few cries and forged screenshots from her?” “Did you even try to verify it once?” “Enough!” Lucas suddenly roared low, veins bulging on his forehead. “Tanya, why do you have to be unreasonable and bring up feelings every time? Admit it when you did wrong!” “I hope you remember today’s warning, behave yourself, and don’t trouble Chloe again. Otherwise, I will make you pay!” He gave me a deep look, then slammed the door and left. I sneered and withdrew my gaze. Before, always thinking of the unwavering love and heart-moving traces of our youth, I always endured it. But this also gave him the chance to hurt me again and again under the banner of “Chloe is miserable, I shouldn’t bully her.” But this is the last time. Lucas, it’s not that I didn’t give you a chance. But since you insist on hurting me for Chloe, don’t regret it when you discover the truth. Chloe was extremely vain and loved face. She insisted on making our parents hold a grand recognition ceremony again to let everyone in the city know her true identity. Lucas also spoiled her, booking the most luxurious hotel banquet hall in the city. On that day, celebrities from the business and sports circles gathered, and various media were also waiting in full battle array with cameras. The emcee’s voice was particularly clear. “Distinguished guests, we gather here today not only to celebrate Miss Chloe’s winning the gold medal for the country in the World Championships but also to announce good news!” “After rigorous confirmation, Miss Chloe Su is the biological daughter of the Tang family who was lost outside!” As soon as the words fell, there was applause. Chloe was protected by Lucas, head slightly raised, eyes red, looking excited yet restrained. “Miss Chloe not only has pure character but also showed amazing talent in skiing. Let’s review Miss Chloe’s elegance on the field through the big screen!” The huge LED screen lit up in response. Photos of Chloe rotating and jumping on the track played one by one, accompanied by exciting background music. Applause continued offstage, praising her as “Tang family’s real daughter with both talent and beauty.” Chloe held the microphone, sighing with some pity. “Being able to return to Mom and Dad really feels like a dream.” “I know, the fake sister who impersonated my life for twenty years may not be able to accept my appearance for a while, so she sulked and didn’t even participate in the competition…” “What I want to say is, I can be magnanimous and not care that sister still lives in a home that doesn’t belong to her, but things that belong to me, whether it’s honor or family, I will firmly hold in my hand.” She raised her chin slightly and spoke with a smile. “Sister, you will understand and bless me, right?” Meeting her nakedly provocative gaze, I also politely returned a smile. “Of course.” Just as the words fell, the screen originally showing photos of Chloe holding the gold medal suddenly changed into a video. The moment sound came from the video, the smile on Chloe’s lips froze instantly, and the color on her face faded completely.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388295”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 During a live reality show, the director asked me to call an ex. I pulled up my blocklist. “Which one?” As a D-list star known for flings, the chat exploded with hate. 【The most famous one.】 I pretended to think. “Who’s bigger — Jude Cole or Ross Downey?” The chat went silent. The guests froze. Jude is an Oscar-winning actor; Ross is a Grammy-sweeping singer. Linking them to me seemed absurd. The host forced a laugh. “You’re joking, right?” The chat raged: 【How dare you say his name!】 【If Jude ever noticed you, I’d eat my shoe.】 【Ross has nothing to do with you!】 【She’s just clout-chasing.】 I don’t joke. “So,” I repeated, “who’s bigger?” The chat fell silent once more. Then, all hell broke loose. 【Our boy is obviously the biggest star!】 【Ross was front row at the last awards gala. You tell me who’s bigger!】 【That was only because some second-rate singer stole Jude’s seat. The organizers even issued a public apology!】 【For your information, Ross Downey is the nation’s top artist. Scalped tickets for the seats outside his concerts go for twenty grand. Think about it.】 【Oh please. Also for your information, a single free ticket to one of Jude’s fan meets was resold for an insane price.】 Off-camera, the showrunner was frantically gesturing, his face a mask of panic. He seemed to be signaling, Don’t stir up trouble. The host looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Scarlett, please, just tell everyone it was a joke and they’re not really your ex-boyfriends.” Technically speaking, one of them wasn’t really an ex. He just thought I was still throwing a tantrum. “Fine, let’s invite Ross Downey.” The host sucked in a sharp breath. The chat was a warzone of crying and laughing emojis. 【Wait, is she serious? Is our boy really her ex?】 【Nooo, Ross, how could you fall for such a promiscuous woman!】 【Don’t cry yet. Wait for Ross to come out and shut her down.】 【LMAO, Jude dodged a bullet.】 【Phew, crisis averted.】 The first segment of the show ended there. It was only the premiere, and all the invited guests were nobodies like me. The live format was a gimmick to generate buzz and pull in viewers. Who would have thought that when it came to my turn to invite a guest, two of the biggest names in the industry would be thrown into the mix? After the broadcast, the director, Leo, approached me. “Scarlett, were you telling the truth?” Leo came from a wealthy family and was new to directing, which was why he dared to fund such an ambitious show. But even he didn’t want to get shut down by an A-lister’s team. “It’s true.” Still wary, he pressed, “Do you have any proof that you were together?” “I do.” The last photo we had. That was all that was left. Once he was sure, Leo prepared to contact Ross’s team. Asking for proof was the show’s backup plan. After all, not every ex was willing to appear on a reality show with their former flame. When I got back to my apartment, I was met with a furious call from my agent. “Scarlett, do you even want a career in this town anymore?” he seethed. “You signed an agreement with Regina. You are forbidden from ever publicly mentioning your past with Ross Downey.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Whether I have a career or not, does it really make a difference at this point?” “Issue a statement right now,” he ordered. “Clarify that everything you said on the show was a lie. It’s your only chance to avoid being blacklisted and sued for damages.” I ignored him and hung up. The internet was already ablaze with rumors, with most people convinced I was a pathological liar. But before I could post anything to defend myself, Ross Downey shot to the top of the trending topics. His post was just a few words. “We loved. She’s my ex.” The statement sent his tens of millions of fans into a collective rage. They were convinced I had somehow bewitched him, a momentary lapse in his judgment. The entire mob turned on me, the D-list actress who was shamelessly using a past relationship for a pathetic shot at fame. Just then, Leo called. “Scarlett, Ross’s manager, Regina, offered me three million dollars,” he said. “She wants me to cancel the show.” I fell silent. I didn’t want to back down, but I couldn’t drag him into my mess. “I’m so sorr—” “Guess what I told her?” His tone shifted, a hint of smugness creeping in. I paused. “You didn’t take it?” “She was desecrating my artistic vision!” he declared, his voice full of indignant passion. “A live reality show! What a magnificent creation!” So, the show would go on. “It just seems we won’t be able to get Ross on,” he added. I wasn’t surprised. It was the expected outcome. Then, his curiosity got the better of him. “So, if you’re not lying… is Jude Cole your ex, or your current boyfriend?” he asked excitedly. “Can I invite him instead?” I vaguely explained my situation with Jude. Leo let out a low whistle. “Weird.” “I’ll reach out to his team.” Jude was probably shooting a film overseas right now. News traveled slower there; otherwise, he would have already called, furious. Before the next episode could even be filmed, a termination contract from Starlight Media, my agency, arrived. It demanded two million dollars in damages and included a clause forbidding me from acting for life. My agent slammed the papers down in front of me. “Pack your things and get out of the apartment,” he snarled. “The company supported you for all these years, and this is how you repay us? Ungrateful.” “Supported me?” I shot back. “You call manufacturing gossip and fake scandals ‘support’?” His face flushed. “Bad publicity is still publicity! You think you would’ve gotten any attention without it? You probably wouldn’t have even landed this show.” He smirked. “Oh, and by the way, since you took this show without the agency’s approval during your contract period, you owe us an additional one million dollars in penalties.” That brought the total to three million. The irony was crushing. In the four years I’d been with Starlight, I had only earned a total of thirty thousand dollars. It was a pathetic sum compared to the fortune they were demanding. I signed the agreement without another word. Half an hour later, I walked out of the apartment building, holding a single box with all my personal belongings. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Regina. Homeless little stray. Her cruelty was sharp and direct. I put my phone away and walked toward the entrance. A sleek sports car screeched to a halt in front of me. It was Leo. He took off his sunglasses and cleared his throat. “I heard about what happened with your agency. It’s all because of our show.” He hesitated. “Why don’t you stay at my place for a while? We need to sort out a new contract for you anyway.” He was right. My old contract was through Starlight Media. Now that I was an independent artist, we’d have to draw up a new one. I stopped hesitating and, with my small box of belongings, got into the car. “Thank you.” We soon arrived at his place—a stunning, ultra-modern penthouse that looked like it had never been lived in. Leo showed me around with a proud grin. “Designed it all myself. You can stay here for free. Don’t worry, it’s completely private and secure.” I set my box on the table. “Where’s the contract?” “Right, the important stuff.” He pulled it out. “Here you go. Sign away.” As I signed, he couldn’t resist a bit of gossip. “So, those two guys… you’re over both of them?” I shook my head and handed the signed contract back to him. He took it and was already heading for the door. “I stocked the fridge. The next show is in two days, so get some rest.” Before I could say anything, he was gone. So he was really letting me stay here? I looked around the sprawling penthouse. It was a world away from the tiny apartment I’d lived in for four years—an apartment the company had “graciously” assigned me because my endless scandals attracted stalkers. The special guests for the next episode were mostly confirmed. The other D-listers’ exes were also nobodies, perfectly happy to appear on TV for a paycheck. Only my special guest remained a mystery. Leo couldn’t announce the full lineup yet, so he released the schedule for the second episode instead. Strangely, the moment the schedule went public, Ross Downey immediately reposted it, tagging Leo and demanding to be my guest as my “ex-boyfriend.” Leo was in a tough spot. He had, after all, already contacted my other ex. I had just stepped out of the shower when his call came through. “Scarlett, what do I do? Both of your ex-boyfriends are demanding to be on the show!” Though he was asking for advice, his voice was practically vibrating with excitement. I had no idea what to do either. I could understand why Jude would want to come—finding out you’ve become an “ex” on live television would make anyone angry. But why had Ross suddenly changed his mind? While Leo was still agonizing over the decision, Jude Cole dropped another bombshell. He reposted the show’s announcement, tagging Leo as well. “I’m her current boyfriend. Can I sign up too?” The internet exploded. The comment sections were a firestorm of hatred directed at me. 【I’m done. This world is officially insane.】 【Jude, what are you doing? Why would you get tangled up with Scarlett?】 【I’ve been single for twenty-six years, and I’m less popular than this two-timing train wreck?】 【Jude, did your fans forget to send you eyedrops with their gifts? Are you blind?】 【Just stop. This is all that witch Scarlett’s fault.】 【Can we please just ban her from the industry? I’m so sick of seeing her face.】 Some users even started blaming the random commenter who had first suggested inviting the “most famous” ex. I was scrolling through the hate when an unknown number called. I answered, and Jude’s voice, thick with rage, came through the speaker. “Scarlett, when did we break up?” he demanded. “Was this all some stunt to force my hand and make our relationship public? Well, are you satisfied now?” “We broke up last year,” I cut in, my voice flat. “It’s been exactly one year.” I hung up before he could respond, then reached up to wipe the dampness from my cheeks. Why are you crying? He’s just an ex. The next day, my phone was flooded with messages from Leo. 「This is insane traffic!」 「So many people want to invest in the show!」 「Scarlett, both of your ex-boyfriends want to come on.」 「I can’t choose between them.」 The last message was accompanied by a devilish smirk emoji. 「So I guess I’ll have to take them both.」 Which meant both of my exes were going to be on the show with me. For the second episode, the show’s budget had clearly gotten a massive upgrade. We moved from a small studio to a lavish, expansive set, complete with state-of-the-art cameras. The other guests, who were on my level of obscurity, now kept their distance. Only Chloe, an actress who’d built her career on an “innocent” persona, shot me a look of pure contempt. “You got kicked out of Starlight Media, so stop putting on an act,” she sneered. “Your fifteen minutes of infamy are almost up. Do us all a favor and stay away.” I was taken aback. “How did you know I was let go?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you seen the socials? Regina announced that the company has officially cut ties with a ‘disgraced artist’ like you.” I pulled out my phone. The number one trending topic was Regina’s announcement. The post was timestamped from the afternoon I’d signed the termination papers. No wonder Leo knew. The post had stayed at the top of the trending list for two whole days. Countless people were praising Regina for cutting out the “cancer” of the company. 【Starlight doesn’t tolerate freeloaders. Scarlett was the exception.】 【She was at the biggest agency for four years and all she did was date and start rumors. Couldn’t she have, you know, acted in something?】 【You don’t get it. Why bother working hard when you can just spread your legs for fame?】 The further I scrolled, the more vicious the comments became. Leo appeared at my side. “Don’t read that,” he said gently. “They’re just vultures latching onto whatever rumors they hear.” But I didn’t feel hurt. I’d seen worse. After years of being suppressed, numbness was the only emotion I had left. Besides, today was my last day in the entertainment industry anyway. I forced a smile. “Thanks for the concern. After today, it will all be over.” The show was about to start. The other female guests’ exes were already in place. Only Jude and Ross were missing. Leo kept checking his watch, his brow furrowed. “Don’t they have any concept of time?” Just as he spoke, Jude’s sharp, chiseled face appeared. His eyes scanned the crowd and found me instantly. The gaze that once held so much affection was now burning with fury. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he strode toward me. “Scarlett, you’ve got a lot of nerve,” he growled. “Come on. We’re going outside to talk about why I’m suddenly your ‘ex-boyfriend.’” Leo smoothly intercepted him, stepping between us. “Mr. Cole, the show is about to start. We’re live. If you cause a delay, I don’t care if you’re an Oscar winner or a nobody. I will tell the entire audience exactly why we started late.” Jude’s icy glare swept over Leo, but he finally relented and sat down next to me. Leo checked his watch again. “We can’t wait any longer. Cameras, get ready. Five-minute countdown.” Ross wasn’t here. I lowered my eyes, determined to avoid any interaction with Jude. But he wasn’t about to let me off the hook. “What’s wrong?” he sneered, his voice low and practiced in its cruelty. “Still waiting for your other ex-boyfriend? Did you join this disaster of a show just to get his attention? Is that why you broke up with me? Because you couldn’t get over him?” Chloe sidled up to Jude. “Jude, a woman like her can’t survive without seducing men. She was just shamelessly flirting with my ex right in front of me.” Jude glanced at the man standing behind Chloe. “Heh. He’s no Ross Downey. Why would she even bother?” His gaze snapped back to me, and he seized my hand, his grip like iron. “After all, you already had the perfect replacement, didn’t you?” I yanked my hand away. Chloe, however, looked as if she’d had a revelation. “Scarlett, have you no shame?” she cried, her voice dripping with condemnation. “You used Jude as a stand-in? If I had a boyfriend like him, I would cherish him forever.” It was a well-known fact that Jude and Ross bore a striking resemblance to each other. When Jude first entered the industry, people had jokingly called him “the next Ross Downey.” One record label even tried to sign him as a rival to Ross. But Jude had plunged headfirst into acting, refusing to ever set foot in the music world. And yet I knew. He had a voice that was every bit as good as Ross’s.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388314”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My friends said marrying Claire would hand my parents their dream of grandkids on a silver platter. But my nineteenth proposal failed, like all before it, because of Leo, the son of her old college friend. People even wondered if he was her secret child. Each time, I’d explain, “She feels she owes his father, Gerry, who once saved her life.” At the theater, a slideshow of our sweetest moments played, but the air was heavy. When Claire finally arrived, half the guests had left. “Sorry,” she said, “Leo needed extra help with his times tables.” I expected the same sharp disappointment, but felt only deep exhaustion. I nodded and went to pay for the empty theater. She stopped me. “Let me get this.” I shook my head. “It’s fine.” Then she said casually, “I think we should postpone our wedding… Actually, today I married Leo’s father. It helps his custody case.” She held out the marriage certificate. My mind went blank, one thought surfacing: Do I really have to marry this woman? … “It’s just on paper,” she continued, oblivious. “Once the custody case is over…” “You’ll divorce him and marry me?” I cut her off, a twisted, ugly smile pulling at my lips. She froze for a second, but her attention was quickly stolen by Leo, who had started to fuss in her arms. “That man stinks, Mommy! I don’t wanna be here!” he whined. “Let’s go home! I want you and Daddy to read me a story together!” His sticky candy hands smeared all over her coat, and he even managed to yank out a few strands of her hair. But this was the same Claire who once threw a fit because I’d hugged her without taking off my coat first. This time, she didn’t even flinch. Her entire world was focused on cooing at the boy. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll go home right now.” Once Leo quieted down, she turned back to me, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “What kind of man wears cologne like that? Leo can’t stand the smell. Don’t wear it again.” Then she added, as an afterthought, “And get rid of all the bottles you have at home before I come over.” She had completely forgotten. This cologne was her first-anniversary gift to me. Or maybe, it was just something she’d picked up on a whim. Maybe I was the only one who had ever felt anything. The only one who had been drowning in the scraps of attention she let slip through her fingers, forcing myself to paint her neglect as love, to believe this relationship had a future. Claire shifted Leo higher in her arms, settling him more comfortably on her hip. Her gaze swept over me, as flat and impersonal as a manager giving orders to an underling. “I’ve explained the situation. Gerry has dinner waiting at home. I’m leaving now.” She walked away with the unhurried pace of someone who had just checked a task off her list, leaving me behind like a subordinate with no right to speak. And suddenly, I felt so tired. A profound exhaustion that seeped from my very bones. I drove home on autopilot. The moment I pushed open the door, my parents’ expectant faces greeted me. Their eyes instinctively darted to the space behind me, searching. But there was nothing there. Only emptiness. The joy that had just begun to light up their faces instantly vanished. My mom forced a smile as she came to take my coat. “It’s okay, honey. Claire’s a teacher. She has so many children to look after. It’s normal for her to be busy.” She patted my arm. “Good things take time. Good things take time.” My dad let out a heavy sigh and turned to start taking down the festive decorations that filled the room. Over the past two years, for each failed proposal, these same decorations had been put up and taken down, taken down and put up. The new house we’d bought for our marriage was a mess, the walls scarred with the residue of tape from countless aborted celebrations. The last time Claire had even been here was months ago, when she’d left in the middle of dinner to rush Leo to the hospital for a sudden fever. She came back later to apologize, and my mother had gently advised, “It would be good to settle things soon.” Claire’s face had darkened instantly. She called my mom an “old-fashioned relic who only knows how to push people into marriage,” accusing her of lecturing a schoolteacher when she’d barely finished high school herself. She never came back after that. My mom had blamed herself ever since, convinced that Claire kept refusing me because of that one comment. But I knew the truth. I thought of how Claire always arrived at Gerry’s parents’ house laden with expensive gifts, how she’d even compiled an entire binder detailing their favorite foods, hobbies, and medical conditions. And I looked at my own parents, their hearts just as broken as mine, trying so desperately to hide their disappointment so they wouldn’t upset me. A tidal wave of guilt crashed over me, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My mom carefully took down the framed photo of Claire and me that sat in the center of the living room, about to place it in a dust-proof box. I took the frame from her hands and looked at it one last time. Who would have believed that in three years together, this was our only photo? And it only existed because I had sponsored her school’s summer camp. As the official sponsor, I was allowed to attend the activities, and later, I had to crop this picture of the two of us from a group shot of over fifty people. In the photo, I was finally standing beside her, my smile overflowing with pure joy. But she was staring off into the distance, her expression grim and worried, because it was the first time Leo had been away from Gerry for so long, and he wouldn’t stop crying. I thought of Gerry’s social media feed, where he posted a gallery of photos almost every day. In every single one, Claire was beaming like the morning sun. I felt like a complete and utter fool. Without a second thought, I tossed the photo frame into the trash. My mom gasped, thinking I’d dropped it by accident. She moved to pick it up. I stopped her. “Mom, leave it.” “I’m done waiting.” 2 My mom stared at me, her eyes clouded with confusion and worry. “What happened today…?” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Claire married Gerry. They registered it today.” The air in the living room froze. My dad slammed a string of party lights onto the floor. “This is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! What does she think our family is? Her backup plan? Her second choice?” I lowered my head, my voice catching in my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through these past few years.” My mom came over and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she whispered. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters to us.” Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Claire. My dad, his face a thundercloud, reached to end the call, but my mom shot him a look and pulled him back into their room. “Let them talk it out,” I heard her say. “He needs to close this chapter so she can’t keep wasting his time.” I answered the call. But the voice on the other end wasn’t Claire’s. It was Gerry. “Alex,” he said, his tone oozing smug satisfaction. “Claire had a little too much to drink with my parents tonight. She got caught up in the conversation. She’ll be staying here with me.” My hand clenched around the phone, and I fought back the hot sting of tears. “Why are you telling me this? You’re her husband now.” My response seemed to delight him, his voice deepening with amusement. “Oh, so Claire already told you? She’s really something. It was supposed to just be for the judge, but I guess she couldn’t wait to break the news.” He chuckled. “Don’t get the wrong idea, though. We’re just a pretend couple. You didn’t get all jealous and start a fight with her, did you? That would explain why she drank so much tonight…” “Get to the point,” I bit out, my voice ragged. He fell silent for a moment. Then, in the background, I heard Claire’s sleepy murmur. “Gerry, I’m so hot… Can you help me change…?” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free, streaming down my face. Gerry must have heard me, because his voice dripped with even more triumph. “Sorry about that. I was just calling to ask for the recipe for that hangover soup you make for her. It’s the only one she’ll drink. And, you know… to explain the whole marriage thing.” “Claire’s got enough on her plate with her students,” he went on, his voice a condescending drawl. “As men, we need to be a little more understanding, don’t you think?” Claire seemed to stir, her voice clearer now. “Is that Alex on the phone?” There was a rustling sound, and then the phone was in her hand. Her voice was thick with irritation. “Alex, I already told you I married Gerry today. I have to meet his family and make it look convincing. If the judge finds out it’s a sham marriage, the consequences are serious.” “Can’t you be more like Gerry? Stop being so paranoid all the time and give me a break. Once the custody battle is…” “When?” I roared, cutting her off. All the pent-up frustration, all the humiliation of the past three years, finally exploded. “When what, Claire?” I screamed into the phone. “When you stand me up again because Leo can’t remember that one plus one equals two? When you miss my parents’ sixtieth birthday to comfort Gerry over his divorce? When you ignore our thirty friends waiting for us and drive hundreds of miles just to buy Leo the perfect eraser?” “Claire, how much longer do you expect me to wait?” “Until I’m on my deathbed? Or until Gerry is on his?” Sobs ripped through me, raw and uncontrollable. I sank to the floor by the sofa, clutching my head. “Why should I have to wait, Claire? Why the hell should I wait for you?” “I’m telling you right now, I’m done! I’m fucking done waiting!” 3 “I hope you and your precious Gerry live happily ever after! You want to repay your debt to him so badly? Then chain yourself to him for life and stop ruining other people’s!” The line went silent for a long moment. Then, Claire’s voice, cold and sharp as ice, cut through the phone. “Alex, I never forced you to wait for me. Don’t you dare try to pin all the blame on me.” “And if you don’t want to give Gerry the soup recipe, that’s fine, but you have no right to take your anger out on him. Apologize to him. Now.” I laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. She hadn’t heard a single word I’d said. She still thought this was about jealousy. About a stupid hangover soup recipe. Maybe it was because after every one of our nineteen previous fights, I had always been the one to crawl back, to beg her for forgiveness. Maybe it had given her the illusion that I would never, ever leave. I slammed the end call button, and a wave of relief, the first I’d felt in years, washed over me. On the other end, Claire stared at her phone, the dial tone buzzing in her ear. Disbelief registered on her face. Her alcohol-fogged brain was slowly processing my words, the raw anguish in my voice. Her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. A knot of unease tightened in her stomach, and she felt a sudden, urgent need to go to my house, to explain everything in person. But as she stood up, Leo padded out from the kitchen, carefully carrying a bowl of soup. She rushed over and took it from him. “Leo, sweetie, you should let the nanny get things like this for you. You could get hurt.” “But Mommy,” he pouted, “you married Daddy now. Why are you still calling yourself the nanny? You’re going to make me mad!” Claire faltered. Just then, Gerry emerged from the kitchen, an apron tied around his waist. Her gaze flickered to him, and after a long pause, she slowly nodded at the boy. “Okay,” she said softly. “Then Mommy will drink the soup with you, how about that?” At midnight, a new post from Gerry popped up on my social media feed. The caption read: “My family.” The picture was of Claire, holding Leo, patiently feeding him soup with a small spoon. Gerry stood beside them, beaming at the camera. I felt nothing. My heart was a calm, still lake. I left a single comment—“Congratulations on the wedding”—then turned off my phone and fell asleep. I thought that was it. That a final, definitive period had been placed at the end of our story, and all that was left was for time to slowly erase her from my life. But then, on a cold day right before the holidays, a bouquet of 999 red roses was delivered to my house. I assumed they were from the woman my parents had set me up with, so I took a picture and posted it online. Caption: “Looks like someone’s ready to get married.” A comment from Claire appeared instantly: “I’m glad you like them.” My face fell. I deleted the post as fast as I could. But it was too late. My phone was already ringing. It was her. “Did you get the flowers?” she asked, her voice cautious. I didn’t answer her question. “What do you want?” My bluntness seemed to catch her off guard. She paused, then pressed on. “Leo’s custody hearing is next week. Gerry said it’s a sure thing.” “Once the case is over, we’ll go get a divorce.” “And then what?” I asked, my voice flat. Hearing my response, Claire seemed to think I was just being sarcastic, but the fact that I was engaging at all gave her a flicker of hope. I could hear the relief in her voice. “Alex, don’t worry,” she said, her words rushing out. “I promise I won’t be late this time!” She sounded so sure of herself. But the very next day, a wedding invitation from Gerry landed in my inbox. 4 I stared at the invitation, a design I had dreamed of a thousand times for my own wedding. But now, it featured a photo of two other people, locked in a passionate embrace. Gerry and Claire. The memories, sharp and painful, came flooding back. All those times I had offered up my heart, only to have it drenched in ice-cold indifference. My hands started to tremble. I remembered my first proposal. The cheers of our friends, me down on one knee, the ring box already open in my hand. Then Claire’s phone rang with that special ringtone she’d set for him, and without a moment’s hesitation, she turned and ran, leaving me kneeling in a crowd of our stunned friends. The second proposal. Worried that Leo might get hurt if he was out of her sight, she brought him with her. He ended up choking on a glass of water and had to be rushed to the hospital. The third. A friend suggested I surprise her, so I chose a movie theater. I painstakingly edited three years of footage down to a two-minute highlight reel of our happiest moments, ready to propose the second the credits rolled. But Claire didn’t even make it through the opening scene. Leo was upset about getting a bad grade in math, so she snuck out with him and took him to an amusement park. We couldn’t reach her for hours and ended up calling the police, thinking something terrible had happened. The fourth time… The fifth… Each broken promise, each casual disregard, was another knife twisting in my heart. I remembered that just a few days after the amusement park fiasco, I saw a video of them online. A local news crew was interviewing people at the park. The reporter leaned down to Leo. “Hey there, little guy! It’s Valentine’s Day! Did your daddy get your mommy a gift?” Leo, his eyes wide, chirped excitedly, “He did! Daddy gave Mommy a kiss!” And Claire, standing right beside him, just offered a shy, complicit smile. Back then, I had hypnotized myself into believing it was just a kid talking, that I couldn’t trust it unless I saw it with my own eyes. But now, here it was. The proof, preserved in a photograph, printed on an invitation sent to every single person we knew. I finally understood. Some things, no matter how hard you fight for them, are just not meant to be. Waiting for someone to come back to you is the most foolish act of all. Two weeks later, I ran into Gerry at the entrance to City Hall. He looked sour, and a flash of malice crossed his face when he saw me. He stared for a beat, then let out a smirk. “Alex. Still playing the devoted puppy, I see.” “What are you, a stalker now? You really think if you just wait long enough, Claire will come running back to you?” He leaned in, his voice dripping with scorn. “I bet you don’t even know. All your so-called friends, the ones who got our invitation? They’ve started a bunch of private group chats just to laugh at you, the guy who wasted years for nothing.” I had been about to ignore him and walk past, but his words stopped me. Did he really think I was here to wait for him and Claire to get divorced so I could immediately take his place? I was in no mood for his games. I shot him a sidelong glance. “You’re pathetic.” Just as I said it, Leo, who had been glaring at me with pure hatred, charged forward like a little cannonball. “You’re the bad guy! It’s all your fault! You’re trying to steal my mommy!” he screamed. “You don’t want me to have a family! You should just die!” He was small, but he was solid, and the impact was surprisingly strong. I stumbled backward down the three steps, my body lurching toward the busy street. For a split second, I saw the blur of oncoming traffic. Then, a slender, elegant figure rushed in from the side, grabbing my arm and yanking me back onto the safety of the sidewalk. “I leave you alone for two minutes to park the car, and you’re already getting bullied?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388330”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A guy in my class wanted my attention, so he decided the best way to get it was by making lewd jokes to my face. I tried to ignore him. So, he escalated and started spreading filthy rumors about my mother. That was the last straw. I whipped around, grabbed a heavy metal water bottle off the desk, and went to town on him. It took the homeroom teacher and a security guard to pull me off. When they called our parents in, his folks pointed a finger in my face, screaming that girls like me should have been “drowned in the river at birth.” That was their mistake. Because this time, it was my parents’ turn to grab a weapon. 01 The guys in my class loved giving the girls nicknames. There was “Kong,” “Bucktooth,” “Darkie”—you name it, they had a slur for it. My desk mate, Sarah, had the unfortunate last name of “Stools,” so they’d called her “Poop” since freshman year. I wasn’t spared, either. Because I was tall and hit puberty earlier than most, I was one of the first girls to wear a real bra. So, I got the nickname “Dairy Queen.” It was their favorite topic of conversation. Today, after gym class, I heard my name in their mouths again. This time, they were even grosser. They were laughing, miming my running posture by cupping their own chests and panting heavily every two steps. Sarah was furious. “Are you guys psychotic? Jordan doesn’t run like that! You are so disgusting!” “Seriously, that is way out of line. We’re telling the teacher!” The other girls chimed in, rallying around me, angrily calling them out. Brad, the ringleader, just laughed. “What’s out of line? I didn’t say a name. Who told you I was talking about Jordan? I was talking about a cow! A big, milking cow!” He grinned that shameless, punchable grin, banking on the fact that I’d be too humiliated to clap back. He thought the shame would silence me. He was wrong. I stood up and glared right at him. “Who are you calling a cow, you needle-dick?” “You’re swinging around something the size of a toothpick, looking like a shriveled pickle, and you have the nerve to talk? Maybe you should go get surgery, though I doubt it would help you upgrade from a zero.” The insult was venomous. Brad was stunned for a second. Then, he exploded. “Jordan, you bitch!” “Who do you think you are? I’ll beat you to death!” Relying on his height and size, Brad was used to saying whatever he wanted without consequences. No one had ever verbally castrated him in front of an audience before. Humiliated, he clenched his fist and charged at me. The class erupted. Boys held Brad back, shouting “Bro, chill!” and “Don’t hit a girl!” while the girls formed a wall in front of me. The noise attracted the patrolling teacher, Mr. Henderson. But Mr. Henderson wasn’t there to serve justice. He was there to sweep things under the rug. After listening to the chaotic retelling of events, the balding, middle-aged man waved his hand dismissively and pointed at me. “Jordan, is it? Why is your language so foul? Is that how your parents raised you? Making jokes about people’s anatomy? Write a thousand-word apology letter. Have it on my desk by Monday.” “Excuse me?!” The girls were more outraged than I was. “Mr. Henderson, how can you blame Jordan? Brad started it!” “Jordan insulted him back, sure, but Brad gave her a sexual nickname first!” “This is harassment! You’re taking his side! We’re going to the Vice Principal!” Kids these days are sharp. They know exactly how to hit where it hurts. The moment they realized Mr. Henderson was siding with the boys, they rebelled. I stepped to the front and flipped Brad off. “Coward. Toothpick. Loser.” “Jordan!!!” Brad’s face turned purple. He lunged over a desk to slap me. The girls shoved him back, scratching and pulling, protecting me like a phalanx of warriors. I pushed my messy hair out of my eyes, seized the opportunity, grabbed Brad by the collar, and slapped him. My nails left three bright red streaks down his cheek. Seeing the situation spiraling, Mr. Henderson panicked. He ran to get our substitute homeroom teacher, Mr. Lee. Mr. Lee was another piece of work. He was the type who openly said, “Premature dating is always the girl’s fault for seducing the boy.” Seeing the gender war erupting in his classroom, he didn’t even ask questions. He ordered me to read my apology letter in front of the entire school at the Monday morning assembly. To appear “fair,” he told Brad to clean the chalkboard for a week. Everyone knew cleaning the board was a joke compared to a public apology at an assembly. That was a formal disciplinary action. It was a public shaming. The girls’ rage was enough to blow the roof off the school. I raised a hand to stop them. Looking at Brad’s gloating face and Mr. Lee’s blatant bias, I replied calmly. “Fine. Monday assembly. I’ll do it.” 02 I didn’t write a single word of that apology. I didn’t think I was wrong. I didn’t think I owed anyone anything. So, I found an old essay, crossed out the title, and wrote [Apology Letter] at the top. Then, I walked confidently onto the stage in the auditorium. I took the microphone from Mr. Lee, faced the entire student body, and said one sentence: “Please, learn from me.” “Jordan, are you crazy?!” Mr. Lee hissed, his eyes bulging. He realized too late that I was going off-script. He lunged to grab the mic. I didn’t let him. I ran across the stage, shouting into the microphone as I dodged him. “I don’t think I was wrong! And I don’t think fighting back is crossing the line! Some people are born cheap and won’t learn until they get hit!” “You laugh when you give people nicknames, but you cry when you get one back? Brad, you are the most spineless coward in history. Even a dog would spit on you for bad luck!” “You think you won? You only ‘won’ because the teachers are biased! If you had any guts, you’d own up to your nasty habit of sexually harassing girls! If your parents came to school, I’d ask them exactly how they raised such a disgusting piece of trash!” “You have no shame! You think acting like a clown gets you attention? Brad, let me tell you—in everyone’s eyes, you’re just a joke!” I got all my anger out before the administration cornered me like a game of hawk-and-chicken. I was caught, obviously. But I held my head high. I didn’t feel an ounce of shame. Standing in the principal’s office later, I was smiling. Especially when I saw Brad outside, looking furious but terrified to show his face, shrinking away from everyone’s gaze. I stared at him, remembering how arrogant he used to be. It felt amazing. “Well said!” “We’re with you, Jordan!” “Good job!” The girls in my class started clapping. Even though Mr. Lee was screaming for order, they cheered for me. Applause is contagious. Led by my class, girls from other grades started clapping too. Some even shouted that I was their hero. I felt vindicated. I realized that bravery feels good. I realized that if I go crazy enough, no one dares to bully me. Not even the biased teachers. The Principal reprimanded Mr. Henderson and Mr. Lee for letting it get this far, criticizing their lack of professionalism. Brad was quiet for a few days. The other boys, seeing their leader taken down a peg, stopped using the nicknames. We thought we could go back to studying, to living a normal high school life. We thought nobody would be stupid enough to start trouble again. That’s how I thought it ended. But I forgot that some people are born petty. They have to win, no matter how dirty they have to play. Brad was that kind of person. A few days later, a vague rumor started circulating on the school’s Discord server and anonymous confessions page. It said a female student’s mother worked in “that kind of industry” and serviced old men. The attached photo was a woman in a cocktail dress, her face blurred out. Because the post used banned words, the students, hungry for drama, started digging. They wanted to know whose parent was so “scandalous.” They dug and dug until they pointed the finger at me. Because my mom liked fashion. She liked wearing nice dresses when she picked me up. Just like that, inexplicably, my mother became a sex worker in the mouths of these disgusting boys. When I heard the rumor, I was stunned. I never thought the misogyny would be directed at my mother. I was consumed by rage. Without evidence, just because my mom dressed nicely, they did this? I was going to find out which little bastard started it, and I was going to kill him. I started my own investigation. I threatened the admins of the confession page, telling them this wasn’t over, that this was defamation, and I would call the police if they didn’t give me the source. The issue had gotten too big in the group chats. The admins, terrified of liability, gave me the user ID immediately. It was a burner account. But in the digital footprint, I found a frequent visitor link. It led straight to Brad’s main profile. There was nothing left to understand. I laughed out of pure anger. I gripped the heavy metal water bottle in my hand, feeling like I had been too gentle before. I had given him the ability to hurt my family. So, the next morning, I stood at the classroom door with my water bottle, waiting for Brad. The moment he walked in, I slapped him. Before he could react, I smashed the metal bottle directly onto his head. Clang. Everyone froze. No one knew why I had snapped. No one knew why I was starting the day with violence. They just watched, stunned, as I jumped on Brad and started swinging the bottle like a maniac. Brad took several hits. A lump was already forming on his head. But he refused to submit. “Jordan! Why are you hitting me?!” “I didn’t even talk to you today! Are you off your meds?!” “Off my meds? You want to know why I’m crazy?” I wiped a splatter of blood from my eye, smiling like a demon. “I’m not just crazy, I’m going to end you!” “You spread rumors about my mom! You photoshopped her face onto porn actresses and spammed the group chats! If I don’t beat you to death today, I don’t deserve to be her daughter!” I threw the dented water bottle aside and pulled a heavy thermos from my other pocket. I swung again. This time I missed, and Brad scrambled away, crawling on the floor, running for his life. I chased him, hair wild, thermos raised high. I was going to beat the shit out of him. “Jordan! Jordan, wait!” Sarah was chasing me. Seeing me standing at the school gate looking like a predator, she rushed over to grab my thermos. I was furious. “Sarah, are you stopping me? If you stop me, we are done! I have to end him today!” I couldn’t believe it. Sarah was siding with that trash? Was she not my best friend? My eyes burned with tears. Then, she pried my fingers open. She took the thermos. And placed a badminton racket in my hand. “My dad bought this. It’s titanium alloy. Light, aerodynamic, and hurts like hell.” “The thermos is too clumsy. This is better.” “…Oh.” 03 Armed with my new weapon, I resumed the hunt. I circled the playground but didn’t see the little coward. He was loud when he was insulting people. He was happy when he was spreading rumors. But when it came time to take a beating, he ran faster than a stray dog. He shouldn’t be running. He should be standing there like a man to take his punishment. I sneered and turned toward the academic building’s restrooms. Sure enough, in the first-floor boys’ bathroom, I caught Brad lurking. His face was black and blue, his hair was a bird’s nest, and his shirt buttons were ripped off. He looked like a beggar. Seeing me, he actually shrieked and tried to dive into a stall, looking like he planned to hide there until the end of time. I slammed the racket against the bathroom door and shouted inside: “Any guys in there, finish up and get out! I’m settling a debt with Brad.” “If you don’t want to be collateral damage, leave now! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” “I’m counting to twenty!” I counted down. Once I was sure the innocent bystanders had fled, I rolled up my sleeves and charged. I saw Brad scrambling to climb out the window, stepping on a mop bucket. I didn’t think. I sprinted over, grabbed his pants, and yanked him back. Mr. Lee and a crowd of administrators burst in just in time to see me dragging Brad by the waistband, trying to pull him off the windowsill. Brad was wailing, covering his exposed boxers, begging me to spare him. Spare him? Who spared my mother? I used all my strength, planted my foot against the wall, and yanked him down to the wet tile floor. Before the teachers could reach us, I grabbed his collar and slapped him again. “Why didn’t you think about this when you were typing those lies?” “Insulting me wasn’t enough? You had to go after my mom? I’ll teach you to talk about my mom!” I kicked. I swung the racket. The strings turned his face into a waffle. Three teachers tried to hold me back. I threw my shoes at him. I grabbed a wet floor sign and threw that too. I was uncontrollable. The Dean of Students finally had to call my original homeroom teacher, Mrs. Davis, who was on maternity leave, to talk me down. Hearing Mrs. Davis’s gentle voice on the phone, the adrenaline finally crashed. “Mrs. Davis… when are you coming back? Brad and the others are bullying us. The nicknames weren’t enough, now they’re going after my family.” “No one helps us. No one cares about how the girls feel. Mr. Lee doesn’t care, he only cares about the boys…” “No one helps me… no one…” I broke down, sitting on the dirty bathroom floor, sobbing my heart out. It hadn’t been like this before. When Mrs. Davis was here, Brad never dared to go this far. Mrs. Davis started crying on the other end of the line. She promised to come back as soon as she could. Before hanging up, she yelled through the phone for Mr. Lee to “Wait right there.” The teachers stood awkwardly. Mr. Lee looked pale. Facing the Dean’s angry glare, Mr. Lee couldn’t say a word. When the investigation revealed Brad was the source of the rumors, I had texted Mr. Lee for help. His reply? [Tell your mom not to wear such flashy dresses.] [If she wore normal clothes, none of this would happen.] So it was my mom’s fault? That text was the spark that burned my rationality to ash. It was why I hunted Brad down without mercy. Because the system had failed me. And I didn’t want my mom to know. I was too ashamed. “Dean.” I wiped the hair from my face, staring dead at Brad in the crowd. “Expel me. Suspend me. I don’t care. But Brad goes down with me!” 04 “Kid, don’t talk about dying. It’s bad luck.” The Dean didn’t argue with me. He handed me a pack of tissues and told me to clean myself up in the girls’ room, go to the nurse, and then come to the office to meet the parents. Only then did I realize that in my rage, I had hurt myself. My adrenaline had masked the pain of two torn fingernails. Sarah washed my hands for me, crying the whole time. The other girls fixed my hair and clothes. One girl took off her jacket and put it on me to cover my torn collar. “I know Brad’s parents,” the Class President said calmly as we walked to the nurse’s office. “They are notoriously unreasonable.” “They will definitely focus on the fact that you hit him first. Don’t let them twist the narrative.” “Don’t be afraid in that office. I’m going to borrow a phone and call my parents. I’m telling them about the insults. We’re making this huge.” “Right. Don’t be scared, Jordan. We’re here.” Sarah wiped her eyes. “Brad’s crew wrote disgusting stories about me, too. I ignored it before. I’m calling my dad now to come back me up.” “They always bully us because we stay silent.” “You can’t be afraid.” The Arts Rep’s eyes were red. “I… I’m calling my parents too. They call me ‘Blackie’ and say dirty things to my face. My mom is fierce. She’ll destroy them.” The girls surrounded me, a tight circle of support. I nodded, smearing tears across my face. “I’m not afraid. Don’t worry. I won’t be afraid.” I had accepted the consequences the night before. If you dare speak ill of my mother, you better be prepared for me to fight until the bitter end. So I went. To face Brad’s unreasonable, unforgiving parents. Sure enough, seeing their son looking like a waffle iron victim, Brad’s parents exploded. They tried to charge through the wall of teachers to tear me apart. I stood three feet away, watching them scream like banshees, and laughed coldly. “Uncle, Auntie. You’re right. I beat the hell out of your son.” “I admit I tried to hurt him. If I could, I’d do it again right now.” “I don’t think I’m wrong. Brad is a scumbag who deserved to be smashed into the floor. You should thank me. Thank me that I was the one who beat him today.” “If it were someone else, you’d be identifying a body right now.” That triggered Brad’s mom. She started shrieking. “You hit him and you’re proud?! If my son has a scar or brain damage, I’m calling the police!” “I’m calling the police too!” If she glared at me, I glared back harder. “If you can’t teach your son, shove him back where he came from!” “I’m telling you, this isn’t over! He came for my mother. I’m going to find every group chat he made, and you better prepare yourself for him to get slapped again!” The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I kicked a chair over, grabbed the sitting Brad, and cocked my fist again. The Dean had to sit between us, using his body as a shield. Seeing me target her son, Brad’s mom finally shut up. That allowed her husband to speak. “I know Brad made a mistake, but it wasn’t a big deal, was it? No one knows your mom. Just deny it. By chasing him around the school, aren’t you just admitting the rumor is true?” “Why make a mountain out of a molehill? If people gossip about your mom now, that’s your fault, not Brad’s.” “Besides, my son has a bad temper, but he doesn’t bully people without reason. There must be a cause.” “Last time he came home with scratches on his face. I asked him, but he wouldn’t say…” Brad’s dad sighed, acting like his son was a noble martyr who finally snapped. If I weren’t the victim, I’d have applauded this middle-aged man’s performance. He could teach a masterclass in gaslighting. Too bad I wasn’t falling into the self-defense trap. And I definitely wasn’t going to debate whether my mom should wear a qipao or a cocktail dress. I smiled openly. “Oh? Victim blaming. Classic.” “You blind, giant babies. With a disability like yours, why haven’t you applied for welfare?” “Let me tell you something. Leading a group to mock people is bullying. Your son didn’t stop there; he manufactured sexual rumors about my mother. If that post gets 500 reposts or 5000 views, your son goes to juvie!” “You can say ‘he’s just a child’ a million times, but the law doesn’t care. Take your twisted logic to the police and see if they buy it!” I rolled my eyes. I probably looked like a villain, mocking them like that. But it felt good. Watching Brad’s parents’ faces twist? Even better. Girls need to be brave. We need to be tough. When you decide to bite back hard, no one dares to yap at you anymore. See? Brad’s parents, who were screaming murder a minute ago, heard “juvie” and went quiet as mice. Too bad I wasn’t buying their peace offering. I sneered again. “You sneeze without a jacket and blame the kid blowing bubbles 200 yards away for giving you a cold. Sir, are you a professional scammer? You seem very practiced at lying down in traffic to claim insurance money.” “You!!” Brad’s dad turned purple, choking on his rage. I watched with a smirk, coldly observing, hoping he might actually choke on his own spit. As if they were the only ones with mouths. If they dared to push the blame on me, I’d dump the whole trash can on their heads. I hit him. I admit that. But Brad wasn’t going to play the victim. He didn’t deserve it.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388346”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Recently, Ethan, the school heartthrob, has been getting very close to Lily, the scholarship student who looks like a pure little white flower. Everyone was betting with an attitude of watching a drama: When will his domineering childhood sweetheart, Sophia, snap? After all, it’s an open secret that Sophia likes Ethan. But a whole week passed. Sophia still hasn’t gone to trouble the little white flower. Some people couldn’t hold back and went to investigate. They found that Sophia was actually very busy. Busy doing charity work. Busy getting first place in exams. Busy setting an example for her three-year-old demon sister. 1 My sister, Sophia, is the vicious female supporting character in a novel. Out of jealousy towards the female lead’s pursuit of her childhood sweetheart. She used her status as a wealthy heiress to suppress and bully the female lead in school. In the end, under the halo of the male and female leads, her family was ruined and people died. No way. I’m only three years old. I haven’t even touched a Black Card yet. Is my life as a rich second-generation slacker going to end just like that? To keep my wealth and glory. I decided to find something for my sister to do. The first thing: being called by the teacher to school. Sophia looked at the surveillance footage. Veins popped on her forehead. “Chloe, who let you ride the kindergarten kids like horses!” I puffed out my chest confidently. “I gave them money!” Sophia gritted her teeth in anger. “Does giving money make it okay? Who taught you that?” I looked at her with an innocent face. “Sister, you said it yourself, money is omnipotent. You can pay the gardener to shave his head, why can’t I pay to ride a horse? It’s not fair!” Sophia choked: “……” This was indeed something she had done. She disliked the new gardener’s hairstyle, so she threw a stack of money at him to shave his head. She even blurted out this famous quote. Didn’t expect this scene to be imitated by me. On the way home. She was exceptionally silent. Probably not reflecting on herself. But worrying that my behavior would affect the family. After all, this is an aristocratic kindergarten. The classmates I rode also have money and power at home. Anyway, I can’t be allowed to do this anymore. She thought for a whole night. The next day, she had dark circles under her eyes and preached to me. “Chloe, as the saying goes, when poor, attend to your own virtue in solitude; when wealthy, make the whole world virtuous. We rich people need to restrain our words and deeds even more. We can’t use money to do bad things, we must do more good deeds to help others, understand?” My eyes were clear: “Didn’t understand.” Sophia: “……It’s okay, sister will set an example for you.” Since then, every time she took me out, she would lead by example. Sometimes going to the orphanage to do charity. Sometimes signing up as a community volunteer to pick up trash. Sometimes donating supplies to children in mountainous areas in my name. At first, it was to educate me. Later, she enjoyed it herself. She even developed a good habit of helping old ladies cross the street. 2 I finally stopped riding my classmates like horses. Before she could be relieved for a few days. The second thing came: Still being called by the teacher to school. This is already the fifth English teacher I’ve angered away. I attend a bilingual kindergarten. The school anniversary will organize children to perform programs in English on stage. And my current level belongs to basically not understanding what other kids are saying. Sophia finally realized the seriousness of the matter. Her eyes were dangerous. “Why don’t you study seriously with the teacher?” I said proudly: “Because sister, you said only poor people need to study, rich people just need to eat, drink and have fun!” Sophia’s face turned green with anger, taking a deep breath. “When did I say that?” I made a sound of surprise. “Did you forget? Mom called before asking why you didn’t study hard, and that’s what you told Mom.” “Sister, you are my idol! I remember every sentence you said, amazing right!” Sophia: “……” She blushed with anger. After that day, countless late nights, I could see her figure studying hard. A month later, she put two report cards in front of me. Last monthly exam and this monthly exam. She improved by more than a hundred places. “Chloe, everyone needs to study. If you don’t study, you will become a fool, understand?” “Look, before, sister said those brainless words because she didn’t study. Now that sister studies, she understands that studying can make people smart, increase knowledge, and give people fighting spirit and a sense of achievement.” “Do you want to be a fool forever?” Looking at the dark circles under Sophia’s eyes like a panda. I swallowed my saliva. Studying turns you into this, so scary! Might as well be a fool. Seeing me unmoved, Sophia said faintly: “If you don’t study, you can’t manage the company. If you can’t manage the company, our family will go bankrupt. Do you want to become a beggar sleeping on the street?” I shook my head in horror. Sophia showed a triumphant smile. Hit a snake at its weak point. Studying really makes people smart. 3 The third thing, and the most crucial one. Stop Sophia from sending love letters to Ethan. Because Ethan will reject her without hesitation. Sophia will hate the female lead even more out of humiliation and anger. Childhood sweethearts breaking up here. Planting the root of disaster. But during this time. Sophia’s attention was all on me. She had no time to trouble the female lead at all. Maybe she doesn’t like Ethan anymore? I have to test it properly. “I’m back.” Sophia looked a bit tired today. I glanced into the car. Still no sign of Ethan. Don’t know since when. They stopped going to and from school together. I pounced on her and hugged her leg. Excitedly spread out a piece of paper. “Sister, this is the love letter I wrote for Steven!” Sophia’s face changed, angrily saying: “Writing love letters at such a young age!” Being scolded, I lay on the ground willfully crying and making a fuss. “I don’t care, I just want Steven to be my boyfriend!” Sophia rubbed her forehead. She went to my parent-teacher meeting. Had some impression of this Steven. He is the most handsome and popular kid in kindergarten. It’s just that he only likes playing with his little deskmate. She asked me: “What if Steven likes someone else and doesn’t like you?” I clenched my little fist. “Then I’ll snatch him over!” Sophia laughed in anger. “This is also what I taug-” Before finishing, she thought of something and froze. Her face slightly pale. “Sister?” She came back to her senses, saying toughly: “This kind of behavior is bad.” “And you are still a child, can’t write love letters, confiscated!” She snatched my love letter and went upstairs. I pouted, very unhappy. “Then when can I write?” “When you become an adult at eighteen.” I grabbed the railing and shouted at her. “Then you are not allowed to write either!” Sophia paused slightly. Then she responded to me. “Mm, I won’t write either.” Oh yeah! Sophia never lies to me. She says she won’t write, so she definitely won’t! Sure enough, when I went to her room at night, I saw shredded paper of love letters. She really gave up on Ethan? I went back to my room dizzily. Rich second-generation life, saved! 4 I thought the plot was finally going to change. Didn’t expect an uninvited guest to arrive at home a few days later. Caleb. If nothing unexpected happens. He is Sophia’s future marriage partner. The two families arranged a baby engagement long ago. He transferred here this time because the family arranged it. Let him cultivate feelings with Sophia slowly. But he had no interest in an arrogant young lady like Sophia. Instead, he was attracted by the independent and strong female lead. Childhood sweetheart and future marriage partner both like her. Adding fuel to Sophia’s darkening. Even to the point of paranoia and madness. Readers think she is hateful. But as her sister. I only feel heartache. I clenched my backpack straps. Staring at Caleb very warily. He has a handsome, unruly face. His left ear is adorned with a flamboyant silver stud. He lifted his eyelids. “Yo, Sophia’s sister, what’s your name again?” Tch. Tasteless second male lead. Don’t even think about knowing my name. I hummed and turned my face away, ignoring him. Caleb was a bit surprised. “You look so much like your sister.” My footsteps paused. Heard him continue: “Both so impolite.” My face twisted: “Don’t you dare talk about my sister!” He wanted to say something more. Interrupted by Sophia’s voice from upstairs. “Chloe, go watch cartoons for a while, Auntie Zhang made you dessert.” I looked up and smiled sweetly. “Okay!” Caleb pointed at himself. “What about me?” Sophia glanced at him coldly. “You come to my room.” Caleb looked struck by lightning. Ear tips slightly red, standing there like a fool. I heard him mutter softly. “This… isn’t this too fast?” I rolled my eyes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388362”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel