Category: English

After five grueling years on my mission, I was finally back in my own world. But my children were clinging to a woman who looked almost identical to me. My husband wore a strained, awkward expression. And my parents, their eyes shifting guiltily, offered an explanation. “This is Sienna. When you were in a coma, she… she took on your responsibilities.” “We owe her a great deal.” 1. My son and daughter held tight to Sienna’s skirt, their eyes wary as they watched me. It was as if I were some kind of monster. I clenched the bedsheets, a sharp pain twisting in my heart. The hand my husband, Ethan, had on my shoulder tightened. I looked around at the others in the room. They had been discussing the automatic emergency alert system they’d installed on my phone, but Sienna’s sudden entrance had clearly caught them off guard. My parents looked deeply uncomfortable. “While you were unconscious, Sienna was the one who took care of us,” my dad explained. “We were going to introduce you properly when we got home.” My mother-in-law chimed in. “Yes, now that you’re awake, you two should get along. Don’t cause us any more worry, alright?” Sienna smiled, a challenging glint in her eyes, and walked over to my bedside. I said nothing. In my mind, I silenced the System. I’ll give you my answer in a few days. The System’s synthesized voice sighed, then faded into the background of my thoughts. Seeing that I was ignoring her, Sienna’s eyes welled with tears. She blinked, and a single tear traced a path down her cheek as she forced a pitiful smile. “I’m so sorry, I was being impulsive. It’s only natural that you’d hate me. I’ll… I’ll go…” She didn’t give anyone a chance to react. She just turned and fled. My mother-in-law stomped her foot in frustration and hurried after her. Ethan instinctively stood up, but his eyes met mine and he froze, slowly sinking back into his chair. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice the same soothing murmur he’d always used to comfort me. “Don’t overthink it. You’re the only one for me.” My daughter, Lily, lifted her skirt and ran after Sienna. My son, Finn, shot me a look of pure hatred before slamming the door so hard the walls shook. I didn’t understand. My two sweet, adorable children… how had they become like this? Seeing my silence, my parents excused themselves to handle the discharge paperwork. A short while later, I was in a wheelchair, being pushed out of the hospital. But as the car pulled away, I realized we weren’t heading home. “Dad,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “If I remember correctly, this isn’t the way home.” My father’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He forced a laugh. “Our Ashley’s memory is as sharp as ever.” He drove in a long, circuitous route, finally ending up at our house. I didn’t understand what he was doing until I stepped through the front door. The large family portrait that had hung in the entryway was gone. In its place was a photo of them—my family—with Sienna. I stared at the picture, then without a word, I marched upstairs and threw open the door to my old bedroom. Just as I suspected. Sienna had taken over, making my room her own. My chest heaved with a mixture of anger and disbelief as I took in the completely redecorated space. And there, sitting on the bed, was Sienna, reading a bedtime story to my son. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. For five years, I had thrown myself into every mission the System gave me, all for this. All to be reunited with my family. And now, there was no place for me here. “You were planning to take me somewhere else, weren’t you?” I asked, my eyes fixed on the man I had once adored more than anyone. My father shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll get your room ready for you, Ash. This will always be your home.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Sienna’s eyes filled with tears again. She stood up without a word and began gathering her things. But my son stopped her. When no one was looking, he launched himself at me, shoving me to the ground. He grabbed whatever was within reach and started throwing it at me, screaming. “You came back and now you’re bullying my mommy! You’re a bad woman!” “Get out!” “Get out of my house!” I stared at the snarling, furious child before me, completely frozen. 2. Finn’s outburst shocked everyone. Ethan grabbed his arm, his brow furrowed in anger. “Finn! What do you think you’re doing?” Tears streamed down my son’s face as he continued to curse at me. The commotion woke Lily, who began to wail. Sienna scooped her up, her own tears flowing freely. “Stop it, both of you! It’s all my fault. I’ll just go!” She made a move to leave. But my mother spoke up, her voice sharp. “Everyone, be quiet!” “Sienna, you’re not going anywhere. You can keep this room.” My breath caught in my throat. I looked at my mother, who was frowning at me. “Ashley, I’ll have someone clear out the entire third floor for you tomorrow. For tonight, you can sleep in the guest room.” Her words echoed something I had asked her as a child. “Mommy, this is the master bedroom, isn’t it? Why aren’t you and Daddy sleeping here? Why is it for me?” She had hugged me then, her smile sweet. “Because this room holds all our best wishes for you, my darling. We want our Ashley to be happy forever.” The memory was a sharp, physical pain. The tears I’d been holding back finally fell. I turned my head, wiping them away, and walked out of the room without another word. My mother started to say something, but then stopped. Back in the guest room, I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow and letting the sobs rack my body. Suddenly, a warm embrace enveloped me. Ethan. He placed a soft kiss on my head, stroking my hair. “What are we going to do if your eyes are all swollen tomorrow, honey?” he sighed. I looked up at him through blurry, tear-filled eyes. He offered a small, sad smile. I don’t know how long I cried, but eventually, his shirt was soaked through. I pulled back, embarrassed, and rubbed my eyes. “You should go take a shower.” He held me tight for another moment before picking up his phone and heading into the bathroom. I expected him to be quick—he usually just rinsed off in under ten minutes. But this time, the sound of the water was a constant drone that lulled me into a restless sleep. I woke up to the sound of Ethan closing the door. I blinked, my eyes drawn to his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up for a moment. Sienna’s name flashed across the screen. Waiting for you. My heart skipped a beat. I reached for the phone, my fingers fumbling to unlock it. But when I entered the passcode, it was wrong. Ethan’s passcode had always been my birthday. I tried again. Not my birthday. Not his. Not the kids’. Then I remembered the birthday I’d seen listed in Sienna’s contact information. I typed it in. The phone unlocked. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I opened their chat history. For the past hour, while he was in the bathroom, Ethan had been on a video call with Sienna. The phone slipped from my grasp. I bit my lip, willing the tears not to fall. After a long moment, I got up and walked to Sienna’s room. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, Sienna was draped over Ethan’s arm, her smile coy as she leaned in and kissed him. And Ethan… he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her back, with even more passion. 3. I stood there, a silent observer to my own personal torture, until my legs gave out and I sank to the floor. A small noise from the kitchen drew my attention. My seven-year-old daughter, Lily, was standing on a stool, clumsily stirring something in a pot. Worried she would get hurt, I went to her. She was muttering to herself. “Mommy doesn’t like cilantro, or scallions…” She lifted the pot from the stove with the careful concentration of a much older child, and my heart softened. But when she turned and saw me, her expression soured. “What are you doing here, you bad woman!” It hit me then. The “mommy” she was talking about was Sienna. My lips trembled. “Lily, I’m your mother. How could you…” “You’re not my mother!” she shouted, pushing past me with the pot of hot soup and heading towards Sienna’s room. The shove sent me stumbling backwards, my spine cracking against the corner of the counter. The pain was sharp, radiating through my body. I followed her back to the room. Lily was carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup before offering it to Sienna. Sienna praised her with a smile, and Ethan pulled her into his lap, teasing. “Our Lily knows how to take care of her mommy even better than her big brother.” I watched the happy, domestic scene from the doorway, a bitter ache in my chest. They were a perfect family. And I was the intruder. I turned and walked away. The next morning, Ethan woke me with his customary good-morning kiss. I turned my head, avoiding it. He froze for a moment, then took my hand and led me to the dining table. But there was no place set for me. Sienna sat in my usual chair, a smug smile on her face. Ethan looked flustered. He gently pushed me into his own seat. “Um…” the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, began nervously. “I didn’t prepare a meal for Ms. Ashley…” Everyone stared. My mother looked confused. “Didn’t Sienna tell you?” Sienna let out a little gasp. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I went to bed so late last night, and I overslept. I completely forgot to tell Mrs. Gable…” “Here, you can have my breakfast…” My mother-in-law pressed her hand down. “You sit right there.” My father agreed. “You need to eat. You’re already too thin.” I was invisible. I watched them, a perfect, harmonious family, and my hands, hidden at my sides, curled into tight fists. My mother sighed and told the housekeeper to make another breakfast, then took my hand and started talking about a welcome-home party. “Now that you’re finally back, we want to throw a party for you. Ethan can take you to try on some dresses later.” I pulled my hand away, numbly nodding. I looked at my mother’s face, really looked at it, and a question began to form in my mind. Do I even want to stay here anymore? 4. At the party, my father was busy introducing Sienna to all of his business partners and old friends. I started to walk over, but my mother stopped me. “Your father is introducing Sienna as his successor,” she hissed, giving me a sharp look. “Don’t go over there. We’ll give you shares in the company. You can live off the dividends.” I was stunned. “But you always said that I would…” “That was before.” My mother gripped my hand tightly, as if afraid I would make a scene. “Just be good, Ashley.” She led me to a corner, and I followed in a daze. My attention was drawn to a figure across the room. It was Ethan. The same Ethan who had promised me he would never drink again was now downing glass after glass of champagne, shielding Sienna from having to drink. He had a sensitive stomach. I remembered the time he had ended up in the hospital with severe cramps, and I had cried myself sick with worry. He had promised me then. He had even let his friends tease him for being whipped. Now, I watched him drain one glass after another. It wasn’t long before he was clutching his stomach, his face pale. Forgetting everything else, I rushed to his side and grabbed his arm. “Have you forgotten what you promised me?” He looked at my worried face, a flicker of guilt and gratitude in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ashley, I…” “Don’t talk.” I took a deep breath and, without a word to anyone else, helped him out of the ballroom. By the time we got to the hospital, he had passed out. The doctor put him on an IV. I was about to go pay the bill when Ethan grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go…” I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. I leaned down to soothe him, but then I heard him whisper Sienna’s name. “Don’t go, Sienna.” It was like being struck by lightning. I froze, my heart squeezed in a vise. I pried his fingers from my wrist, paid the bill, and drove straight home. “…Sienna is pregnant now. We can’t let her get an abortion!” I had my hand on the doorknob, but my mother-in-law’s voice from inside stopped me. “Maybe Ethan should divorce Ashley and marry Sienna.” She was looking to my parents for support. My mother sighed. “It’s true. If Ashley gets divorced, she’ll still have us. But Sienna is all alone. It makes sense for her to marry Ethan.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. In just a few words, they had decided my fate. I stood there, stunned, when a soft laugh came from behind me. “So what if you’re awake, Ashley?” I turned to see Sienna looking at me, her eyes full of triumph. “In the end, I still replaced you.” I forced myself to stand tall. “A replacement is always just a replacement. How long do you think this stolen happiness will last?” My words seemed to strike a nerve. Her expression hardened. “We’ll see whose happiness it is in the end!” With that, she grabbed my hand and gave a violent shove. A loud scream echoed through the hall as she tumbled down the stairs. Blood began to pool between her legs. The conversation inside stopped. The door flew open, and the three of them saw the horrific scene. A sharp smack as my father’s hand connected with my face. My mother-in-law shoved me, and I fell to the floor. My father pointed a trembling finger at me. “What the hell are you doing?” I opened my mouth to explain, but they didn’t give me a chance. My mother’s only words were, “If anything happens to Sienna, you don’t have to come back to this family ever again!” Tears blurred my vision. I watched my father scoop Sienna into his arms and rush to the car. My mother and mother-in-law followed without a single glance in my direction. Something inside me snapped. I don’t know how long I sat there as the wind and rain whipped around me. I laughed, a broken, hollow sound. “System, I don’t want to stay here anymore.” “I want to go back to the mission world.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388148”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mother was obsessed with competing with me. When my grandmother gave me a jade bangle, my mother’s eyes turned red with envy. She snatched it from me, snarling, “A worthless girl like you doesn’t deserve such a fine thing!” When my boyfriend sent me a bouquet for Valentine’s Day, she gritted her teeth in rage, then feigned nonchalance. “He only likes you because you’re my daughter. If I were a few years younger, do you think he’d even look at you?” Later, she actually climbed into my boyfriend’s bed, naked. When she was caught, she begged us not to tell my father. Soft-hearted, I agreed. But during a family trip to a scenic mountain, she pushed me off a cliff… Before I died, I saw her face twisted in a euphoric grin. “Everything you have is only because you’re my daughter! Why should you have a better life than me? I should never have given birth to you!” When I opened my eyes again, it was the summer after my high school graduation. Mom, this time, I won’t be silent. I’ll be the loudspeaker broadcasting your “victories” in this twisted competition. 1 When I was seven, I admired a matching mother-daughter outfit in a shop window. I tugged at my mother’s skirt to show her. She looked at me with disgust. “Are you just trying to outshine me so your dad will praise you?” At fourteen, while Dad was away on business, I cooked a huge meal for her while she was out shopping, hoping for a smile or a compliment. Instead, she flipped the table in a rage, screaming, “You wasteful brat! I worked so hard to raise you, I quit my job for you! What’s the point of cooking all this? Who are you trying to impress?!” I thought I would wake up eventually. I thought I would stop craving her warmth. At eighteen, I got into college. My grandparents gave me an exquisite jade bangle. She made snide remarks and threw fits until I offered it to her with both hands. Only when it was on her wrist did she calm down. Later, in college, I found a boyfriend who genuinely loved me. When I excitedly shared my happiness with my family, she tried on my clothes in my room behind my father’s back. Posing in front of the mirror, she scoffed, “If I were a few years younger, do you think he’d ever look at you?” In the end, she crawled naked into my boyfriend’s bed. When he fled screaming in terror, she cried and begged me not to tell my dad. I softened again. The price of my soft heart was my life ending in a nameless valley. 2 The moment I opened my eyes, I still felt the dull pain of the rocks against the back of my head, and the shock and resentment filling my chest. When I came to my senses, I found myself squatting in the bathroom, staring at a basin full of socks so dirty they were black. It was the summer after my high school graduation. My dad, wearing a tank top and carrying a bowl of fruit to wash, passed by the bathroom. He poked his head in and grinned at me, eyes full of relief. “Looks like our Lily has grown up. Not a lazy girl anymore.” Before I could speak, my mom, like a bloodhound tracking her prey, appeared. She wore tight jeans and pink slippers, even her toenails studded with rhinestones. Holding a tub of Häagen-Dazs she just took from the fridge, she looked me up and down and let out a disdainful “Tch.” “Not lazy? If she wasn’t lazy, would she save up so many dirty socks before washing them?” Dad looked awkward, wanting to speak but stopping himself. As if smelling something foul, Mom covered her nose in disgust, taking a big step back and pulling Dad with her. “Lily, how long have you been wearing these? Your feet stink! You didn’t inherit a single good trait from me. Dark and skinny is bad enough, but a girl with foot odor?” I stood up, wiped my hands on a towel, and grinned at my parents. “Mom, you forgot. You told me to throw away your dirty socks.” “So you went into my room, took my clean socks, wore them until they were dirty, and stuffed them back in my drawer?” “I can’t just let them sit there dirty, so I’m washing them.” The air filled with a terrifying silence. Mom’s face turned green with rage, her hand hovering over her nose, unsure whether to keep covering it or drop it. I ignored them, walked past, and went straight to my room, locking the door. Half an hour later, I received a text from Dad: “Lily, you shouldn’t be so blunt. It hurts people. She’s your mother after all. She’s been crying on the sofa for half an hour. Come out and apologize.” I sneered and closed the chat. She is my mother, but if she truly treated me like a daughter, she wouldn’t have pushed me off a cliff in my past life. As for her crying, real or fake, it wasn’t because my words hurt her heart. It was because the perfect image she meticulously built in front of her husband had been torn open, exposing the truth. She was humiliated. 3 My dad was an only child. My grandparents were retired teachers who lived in the same apartment complex. To celebrate my acceptance into the city’s Normal University, the old couple prepared a big feast at their home and invited our whole family. On the way downstairs, Mom wore sunglasses and refused to talk to me, probably because I exposed her sock secret the other day. But she hummed a tune, seemingly in a good mood. When a familiar neighbor asked why she was so happy, she took off her sunglasses and acted coy. “Oh, my daughter isn’t very capable. She only got into the local Normal U. Her grandparents wouldn’t even book a hotel for her graduation party.” “It’s all because she didn’t try hard enough. Back when Frank and I got married, we had the best hotel in the city, the best dress, the best jewelry…” “What’s the use of my in-laws valuing me? She’s just disappointing. In the old days, they’d call her a money-loser.” Reaching the part she enjoyed, Mom covered her mouth and giggled, trembling with laughter. I couldn’t be bothered to respond. Her breakdown was coming later. Arriving at the other building, Grandma was already waiting downstairs with a beaming smile. Seeing me, she pulled me into a hug, patting my shoulder. “Our Lily is so capable! City Normal U, that’s wonderful!” She led me upstairs, arm around my shoulder, seemingly forgetting there was another person behind us. Entering the apartment, I realized it wasn’t just my grandparents. The living room was full of men and women, surrounding Grandpa. They were all well-dressed and successful-looking. Following Grandma inside, people stood up one by one, greeting me with smiles and handing me gifts. I thanked them under Grandma’s guidance and chatted, realizing these were all former students of my grandparents, invited to celebrate my success. When Mom walked in and saw so many people, she froze. Seeing the pile of gifts in my arms, the familiar hateful glint returned to her eyes. I knew that look too well. Learning she was my mother, the guests exchanged polite pleasantries, but their distance was obvious. Mom didn’t seem to sense the awkward atmosphere. She sat herself down carelessly and started chatting intimately with those around her. The topic was invariably me. How she never expected a daughter who was last in her class in middle school to get into college. How I, a wasteful and argumentative daughter at home, acted so obedient outside. I saw the guests’ faces turn uncomfortable; some couldn’t even keep up with her conversation. Suddenly, Mom said quietly, “Lily, are your scores even real?” Silence fell over the room. Questioning her own daughter’s academic integrity at her graduation party—she was definitely the first. Grandpa cleared his throat, interrupting her. “It’s getting late. Everyone, please take a seat.” Mom was silenced. She wanted to sit next to me, but Grandma said coldly, “Lily sits between me and the old man today. Frank’s wife, you don’t have a problem with that, do you?” She wouldn’t dare. If Grandma farted, she’d rush to smell it and call it perfume. The atmosphere at the table improved. Everyone but Mom wore smiles, encouraging me to broaden my horizons in college. At 7:30, Dad rushed back. Shortly after he sat down, Grandma brought out an exquisite box from the inner room. She opened it in front of everyone. Inside lay a beautiful jade bangle, translucent and smooth. Tears welled up in the old couple’s eyes. “Lily is going to college. Grandma and Grandpa prepared a gift too. This is for you. May your life be smooth and safe.” Grandma took my hand, ready to slide the bangle onto my wrist. That was when the accident happened. Mom suddenly rushed over, eyes red, and snatched the bangle from Grandma’s hand. Her voice was shrill: “Mom! She’s just a worthless girl! Why give her such an expensive gift?!” The room erupted in shock. Dad reacted first. His face darkened. He patted Mom’s shoulder, whispering her name, signaling her to behave. Mom shook off Dad’s hand, shouting, “Did I say anything wrong, Frank? I carried on the family line for the Zhangs! Even if I only gave birth to this money-loser, I still contributed!” “Are you just going to let your parents trample my face into the ground?!” The guests looked at each other, hesitant to speak, silence reigning. In my past life, under such a grand display of madness from my mother, I would have buried my head in the sand, apologizing in a mosquito’s voice while tugging at her clothes. My grandparents, seeing me like that, couldn’t support me even if they wanted to. They could only sigh. And after getting home, I would have offered this precious gift to her with both hands just to make her stop. My thoughts returned. Dad frowned, looking at me pleadingly, as if hoping I would step up to smooth things over. I feigned helplessness and grabbed Grandma’s hand. I said, “Mom, you melted down all the silver bracelets, necklaces, and earrings Grandma gave me for seventeen years to make new jewelry for yourself. But can you please not take this bangle? I really like it…” “This is a graduation gift from Grandma and Grandpa. It means something different…” My voice trailed off at the end, sounding unsure. A crazy mom, a passive dad, and a broken me. Anyone with eyes could see the truth. Smash! A loud crash beside me made Mom jump, her lips trembling uncontrollably. Grandpa had smashed a bowl. Shards flew everywhere. I trembled too, feeling a gentle squeeze on my hand. Meeting Grandma’s reassuring gaze, warmth rose in my heart. “Lily, you said your mother took all the silver jewelry we gave you for seventeen years and melted it down for herself?” Grandpa’s face was grim. I nodded timidly, hesitating. “Mom said I have dark skin, so wearing those things looked dark and tacky, so she took them…” Whispers broke out among the guests. Seeing the commotion, Mom shrieked: “Dad, how can you listen to a child’s nonsense? How could I take her things? I’m saving them for her…” “Kids shouldn’t be so flashy.” Seeing Mom’s stiff smile, Grandma scoffed. “In that case, go home right now and bring back everything we gave Lily.” At this point, Mom seemed to lose the ability to argue, but she refused to give up. The guests, sensing the family drama, politely made excuses to leave. When most people were gone, Mom ignored Dad’s warning looks and continued to be stubborn. “Mom, Dad, I’ve been married into the Zhang family for so many years, raised Lily this big. She’s just a child. Aren’t her things mine?” 4 Hearing this, I sneered internally. Yes, just because you gave birth to me. My things must be yours. My achievements are all thanks to you. I should live in your shadow. You whisper in my ear under the guise of love, magnifying my flaws to highlight your superiority. But Mom, I should be your daughter, not your competitor. Dad, the invisible man, looked bad too. In our small family, he was the head, indulging his wife’s tantrums and forcing me to compromise as a father. But here, he was the son. In this atmosphere, he wished he were the grandson. Grandma’s gaze was cool but disappointed. “I don’t care what you did before, but this is a gift from us to our granddaughter.” “A thief in the family is still a thief.” “If I ever see anything belonging to Lily on you again, you don’t need to step through this door.” Mom’s face turned green then red. She grabbed her sunglasses, stomped her foot in rage, huffed, and left unwillingly. Youth is priceless; confronting Mom is priceless-er. Since my rebirth, I’ve confronted my mom twice, exposing a small part of her true nature to my dad and grandparents. She treated me like air these days, pretending I didn’t exist. Dad sighed constantly, hinting I should apologize. Hilarious. Who complains about too much peace? Living comfortably, I made it to the start of college. College life was rich, and so was my mom’s social media. I often heard my roommate, who scrolled videos late at night, complaining: “Check the video I tagged you in. Is this lady crazy? She posted a photo of her daughter’s back with photoshopped white hair, and a filtered-to-death selfie of herself, asking netizens to guess who is the mom and who is the daughter?” I clicked the tag. As expected, the video featured me and my mom. Luckily, my face wasn’t visible. I sighed in relief. Not completely humiliated. My roommate on the bottom bunk had a sharp tongue. She typed furiously. A moment later, I saw her comment: “The daughter with the photoshopped white hair is the mom, and the auntie with the heavy filter is the daughter.” Reading her comment, we all burst into laughter. Two months into the semester, I was studying in the library with my roommates. Suddenly, a note was slid in front of me. Following the slender hand, I saw a familiar face—my boyfriend from my past life. I smiled, accepted the note, and added his contact info under my roommates’ teasing gazes. Just then, a message from Dad popped up on WeChat. “Lily, you and Mom have been in a cold war for so long. She can’t bring herself to apologize, but she misses you dearly. When will you come back to visit?” I thought for a moment and typed: “Next month.” A month is enough to do many things, like fall in love. Mom misses me? Thinking about those words gave me chills from head to toe. My roommate nudged me, showing me her phone. It was another video from Mom. Maybe she got roasted too hard on the last one, so she launched a “loving mother” persona. Same video, new caption: “Mommy’s little jacket, I miss you so much. Don’t stay away just because of a few words.” A sensible netizen commented: “The auntie who looks like a daughter doesn’t seem to have a good relationship with the daughter who looks like a mom.” Mom replied instantly: “My daughter is coming back to see me next month.” So that’s why she wanted me back so urgently. Ignoring me for months was fine, but now she “missed me dearly.” Her “pampered wife” persona wasn’t enough; she needed a doting daughter too. But this time, she wouldn’t get what she wanted.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388165”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My mother was dying. In a moment of lucidity in the ICU, she decided to make her will. “Mrs. Lewis, you want to draft your will?” “Yes, while I’m still clear… I need to settle my estate.” Mother took a deep breath. Her voice was weak, but every word was clear. Mr. Lee, the lawyer, took out his pen and notebook, his expression serious behind his glasses. “Alright, Mrs. Lewis. Go ahead.” “Besides the house, I have $200,000 in my bank account.” The sentence was a bombshell. I stared at my mother in disbelief. When did she save $200,000? She was a retiree living on a small pension of $1,500 a month. “The house goes to Daniel.” My brother, Daniel, smiled slightly. He expected this. That house was worth at least $300,000. “As for… the s-savings… that also goes to Daniel. The jewelry in my old chest goes to Sarah.” Mother finished trembling, but her tone was firm. The air in the room solidified. My breathing stopped for a second. I stared blankly at my mother, ears ringing, sounds distant and unreal. “Mom…” “What… did you say?” I opened my mouth, but my voice was dry and barely audible. Mother’s gaze remained on Daniel, as if she hadn’t heard me. Her fingers gently stroked Daniel’s hand, eyes full of tenderness. “Daniel has had it hard these years, struggling out there,” she said weakly but firmly. “The house and savings are for him. It’s the least I can do as a mother.” Daniel was hit by the jackpot! Eyes shining, he hugged Mother excitedly. “Mom, Mom, I don’t want it… You have to live a long life. I haven’t been filial enough yet.” My heart felt squeezed, breathing difficult. I looked at Mother’s pale face and suddenly felt she was a stranger. Growing up, she never looked at me this long, let alone spoke to me so gently. “Mom, what about me?” I couldn’t help but ask, voice trembling. “I’m your daughter too.” Mother finally turned to me. Her eyes lacked the warmth I hoped for. Her gaze was sharp, even impatient. “Sarah, you’ve always been sensible. I don’t need to worry about you.” Her voice was cold. “You have a stable job, good income, you can take care of yourself. Daniel is different. He needs this house.” My eyes burned, throat blocked. I wanted to say something, but my voice choked. “Mrs. Lewis, are you sure about this distribution?” Mr. Lee pushed his glasses up, calm and professional. “Legally, children have equal inheritance rights. Without special reason, this could lead to legal disputes.” Mother’s eyes sharpened. She stared at Mr. Lee, tone unyielding. “This is my decision. Daniel is my son. House and savings go to him. It’s only right.” Daniel stood by, expression complex. He looked at Mother, then at me, wanting to speak but ultimately lowering his head, gripping Mother’s hand. “Mom, don’t say that.” He finally spoke, voice hoarse. “Sarah is your daughter too, I…” “Daniel, say no more.” Mother cut him off, sounding tired. “This is my decision. No one changes it.” My heart sank. Looking at her familiar yet strange face, I realized I never truly entered her heart. No matter how hard I tried, her gaze always rested on Daniel. I thought being excellent would make her see me. Now I knew, some things never change. “Mom, I understand.” I spoke, surprisingly calm. “Don’t worry, I won’t fight for it.” Mother seemed surprised, a flicker of complexity in her eyes. I opened my mouth to speak but just sighed. “Sarah, don’t blame Mom.” Her voice softened, tired and helpless. “Mom just… wants Daniel to live a little better.” I nodded silently. My eyes were hot, but I held back the tears. I had to be strong. Mr. Lee looked at me, then at Mother, and recorded the will. The room was heavy and oppressive, the ticking of machines loud in the silence. “Mrs. Lewis, the will is recorded.” Mr. Lee closed his notebook. “If there are no other requests, I will process the paperwork.” Mother nodded, smiling wearily. “Good. Thank you.” Daniel stood by, joy mixed with complexity on his face. He looked at Mother, then me, wanting to speak. But he just lowered his head and held her hand. “Mom, rest well.” He whispered, choking up. “I’ll stay with you.” Mother’s eyes softened. She patted his hand, smiling with relief. I watched silently. My heart felt stabbed, pain making it hard to breathe. I knew I had lost the last shred of hope. “Mom, I’m going out. Rest well.” I whispered, exhausted. Mother didn’t answer, just nodded slightly. Her gaze remained on Daniel, forgetting my existence. I turned and left the room, closing the door gently. The hallway lights were harsh and cold. I leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to calm down. 2 Mom, why are you always like this? Daniel is your child, am I not? Why do you always favor him? He gets whatever he wants. And me? I care for you in old age, clean up your mess. Forget inheritance, I don’t even get a kind word! I stood in the hallway, trembling, tears welling up. I wanted to rush in and question her. But I couldn’t… Thinking of Mother in the hospital bed, I felt wronged and confused. I didn’t understand why she always doted on Daniel and was cold to me. I remember when we were kids going to school. Every morning, Mother prepared a hearty breakfast for Daniel, while I ate leftovers. Once, I asked: “Mom, why does Daniel get eggs and milk, and I only get toast?” She didn’t look up. “You’re the older sister, you should yield to your brother. He’s growing, he needs nutrition.” I lowered my head, eating dry toast, feeling wronged. In middle school, my grades were top tier. I thought being excellent would make her look at me. It didn’t. Once, I ran home with a perfect test score to share my joy. “Mom, I got a perfect score!” I said excitedly. She was peeling an apple for Daniel. Without looking up, she said “Mmhmm,” then handed the apple to him. “Danny, eat fruit, it’s good for you.” I stood there, the test paper heavy in my hand. Watching her wipe Daniel’s mouth gently, my heart ached. Since then, I never shared my grades with her. 3 After high school, I got into a top university. I thought leaving home would free me from her bias. But distance didn’t change her coldness. Phone calls were brief and rushed, as if I was irrelevant. Daniel, with bad grades, was always her concern. When he failed his SATs, she pulled strings and spent money to get him into a private college. Knowing this, I felt even more unbalanced. Why did my years of effort mean nothing to her? After graduation, I found a good job and stabilized my life. I thought I finally escaped her shadow. But a phone call shattered my peace. “Sarah, your brother is getting married. We don’t have enough money. Can you help?” Mother’s voice pleaded. I held the phone, bitter. She never called me unless it was about Daniel. “Mom, I have my own life. I can chip in, but I can’t pay for everything.” I tried to sound calm. Silence, then coldness. “You’re the older sister. You should help him. Marriage is a big deal. Don’t be selfish.” My heart felt pricked. Why were Daniel’s needs always first, and my feelings ignored? In the end, I paid $20,000 for the wedding and banquet. But less than a year later, the bride divorced Daniel for being useless and broke. My $20,000 was gone. That was my blood and sweat money, saved dollar by dollar. 4 To care for Mother, I brought her to live with me for ten years. I gave her the best I could. In hard times, my husband and I lived in the basement to rent her a sunny room. But she still complained. I worked harder, often overtime. Coming home late, I’d find her sleepy on the sofa. Nagging: “Always waking me up at night… come home earlier, don’t disturb me…” I apologized profusely. Then ate a quick meal in the kitchen and slept. Work was hard. But eating Mother’s cooking still warmed my heart. It was one of the few times I felt her care. Until a year ago. She fell ill. I rushed to the hospital daily. Smelling disinfectant, I sat on the bench, emotions tangled. Seeing her frail on the bed, I still hurt for her. “Mom, how do you feel?” I asked softly. She opened her eyes, glanced at me, then said flatly: “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Heartache. Why was she still so cold? Then Daniel rushed in. “Mom! Are you okay? I heard you were sick and came right away!” He rushed to the bed, anxious. Mother smiled instantly. “Danny! You’re here? I’m fine, don’t worry.” I watched her tenderness toward him, heart aching. She patted his hand lovingly, as if he was her only concern. And I stood there, an outsider, my breathing superfluous. I quietly left the room, tears falling in the hallway.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388181”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The year I turned seven, my father died in a car crash. My mother remarried her first love and I moved in with them. At our very first dinner as a new family, my stepfather, Richard, announced the new house rules. “From now on, this family operates on a pay-your-own-way basis.” I took a piece of the pot roast. For that one piece of meat, my stepfather demanded three hundred dollars from a seven-year-old. I looked at my stepsister, Ashley, who was happily devouring her own portion. “Ashley had pot roast, too. Why don’t you ask her to pay?” “Because Ashley is my own flesh and blood,” Richard answered. “I love Ashley. She has bloodline privilege.” I glanced at my mother. Richard continued, “Your mother is my wife. I love your mother, so she has privilege, too.” “As for you,” he said, his eyes cold, “we have no blood ties and no emotional foundation. I have no obligation to support you.” To enforce Richard’s pay-as-you-go system, everything in the house was given a price tag. A list was taped to the refrigerator door: Apple: $2.00/each Milk: $1.50/carton Leftovers: $0.75/portion … My mother and Ashley had privilege. They could open the fridge whenever they wanted. I wanted to, but I had no money to pay. “You have no money, yet you expect to eat?” Richard’s voice was a flat line. I mumbled, unsure of what to do. He feigned generosity. “Fine. We’ll put it on your tab for now. You can sign a personal loan agreement with your mother and me.” “Interest will be calculated at a high-risk rate, 0.1% daily, compounded until you turn eighteen. Once you’re an adult and earning money, you can pay us back.” And so it began. I had to pay for every watt of electricity I used. Every grain of rice I ate. I even had to chip in for the vacations my parents took Ashley on… Because of the family’s pay-as-you-go system, I was over eighty thousand dollars in debt before I was even an adult. To minimize my debt, I lived as frugally as possible. I’d even dig through the trash for Ashley’s old, discarded clothes and shoes. Sometimes, I’d beg for food on the streets. But no matter how thrifty I was, I couldn’t avoid everything. That winter, the flu was raging. I got sick. A fever. The thermometer read 103.6 degrees. My body felt like a hot coal. As expected, the first thing my parents did was pull out their ledger and a calculator. After a flurry of calculations, they printed out a new loan contract. “Chloe, we can take you to the hospital. But you need to understand, medical costs are a bottomless pit these days. Registration, blood tests, an IV drip… that’s a thousand bucks, easy.” “And as we’ve agreed, Chloe, household expenses are shared. But personal, unexpected costs, like you getting sick, are your own responsibility.” But I couldn’t pay. So, I signed another loan agreement. … In the end, they didn’t take me to the hospital. Richard said it was too expensive. A waste of resources. Instead, he went to the drugstore downstairs and bought a box of fever reducers and a box of antibiotics. Total cost: five dollars. He walked into my room holding the medicine, my mother trailing behind him. “Chloe, you may not be my flesh and blood, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I paid for this medicine out of my own pocket. With a five-dollar delivery fee, that comes to ten dollars total.” He placed the medicine on my nightstand, then handed me a pen and a piece of paper. “Sign the loan contract first. Once you sign, you can have the medicine.” I was so feverish I could barely open my eyes. “Mom…” I croaked. She turned her face away, muttering, “Just sign it, Chloe. Sign it, take the medicine, and you’ll be fine.” Fighting the waves of sickness, my hand trembled as I scrawled my name on the contract. The second my signature was complete, Ashley’s voice cried out from the kitchen. “Daddy! Mommy! I cut my finger! It hurts so much!” My mother shot up like a spring and sprinted to Ashley in the kitchen. Her voice was laced with panic and pain. “What’s wrong, my sweet baby?” “Oh my god, let Mommy see! Is it bleeding? Honey, let’s go! We have to get her to the hospital for stitches and a tetanus shot! A cut like this can get infected, we can’t take any chances!” Listening to the sound of the car engine starting outside, I lay in bed, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t understand. Why did my 103-degree fever only warrant a ten-dollar box of pills, and only after signing a loan agreement? But a tiny cut on Ashley’s finger got her a free ride to the hospital for a tetanus shot? Ashley, the princess of the household, saw my confusion. She grinned at me. “Because I’m his flesh and blood. Daddy loves me.” “And your mom loves my dad. So by extension, she loves me most of all!” 2 Because Ashley was his flesh and blood, she received the love of both my stepfather and the mother who adored him. I was only my mother’s flesh and blood. So, as I grew older, all I received was a snowballing mountain of debt. I had no time for a social life at school. Even with college entrance exams approaching, I spent my lunch breaks collecting cans, running errands for classmates, and even copying out homework for struggling students in a corner of the playground. Five bucks for a thousand words. But I never expected Ashley to corner me while I was collecting plastic bottles, her friends flanking her. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. It was the loan agreement I had just signed with my stepfather two days ago. It detailed my request for an advance to buy next month’s supply of pads. “See? I wasn’t lying! It’s all true. Chloe here has to borrow money and sign an IOU just to buy pads.” “My stepsister is barely a teenager and she’s already eighty-five thousand dollars in debt to my family.” “She’s a total leech. Already drowning in debt before she’s even earned a dime. Who knows how she’s wasting money behind our backs.” “It’s all true! If any of you hang out with her, watch your wallets. She’ll probably steal from you!” So, I was just gossip for her and her friends. The other students started whispering. My face burned with shame. Pads. Having something so private broadcasted to a crowd of people… I wished the ground would swallow me whole. My eyes welled with tears as I tried to snatch the paper back. Ashley held it high above her head. Later, she didn’t just show it to the boys, she posted it on the school’s public notice board. “Everyone, come and see the real face of our top-ranked student! What’s the point of getting good grades? She’s a teenager with $85,730 in debt! Rotten to the core!” That afternoon, I became the school’s laughingstock. “The girl who buys pads on credit” became my nickname. My teacher called both me and Ashley into her office. My homeroom teacher was a responsible woman. She furiously reprimanded Ashley for her disrespectful behavior, then called our parents. Richard and my mother both came. Richard was dressed in a sharp suit, looking every bit the cultured gentleman. He apologized to the teacher the moment he walked in. But when the teacher tactfully mentioned the importance of “protecting a young girl’s privacy” and “providing basic necessities,” Richard pushed up his glasses and smiled. “Ma’am, you’ve misunderstood. This is our family’s approach to financial literacy. Chloe has always lacked a sense of money. The pay-as-you-go system, the personal loan contracts… these are all tools I’m using to cultivate her survival skills and independence.” The teacher was left speechless. After we left the office and rounded an empty corner of the hallway, the smiles vanished from my parents’ faces. Richard checked the time on his phone, and my mother immediately understood. She began to scold me. “Chloe, because you caused trouble at school, your father and I had to take an hour off work to deal with it. Your father’s hourly rate is two hundred dollars, mine is one hundred. Add twenty-five for gas, and that’s a total of three hundred and twenty-five dollars.” My mother scribbled down the numbers. “This goes on your tab. You are responsible for the additional cost of our time.” And so, my debt grew larger. On the way home, Ashley happily held my parents’ hands. I trailed behind, alone. Suddenly, Ashley turned around and stuck her tongue out at me with a triumphant grin. 3 At the dinner table that evening, my mother suddenly covered her mouth, let out a retching sound, and ran to the bathroom. Richard froze for a second. Then his eyes lit up, and he dropped his chopsticks. “Sophia!” he rushed to the bathroom door, knocking. “What’s wrong? Are you…?” The suspicion was confirmed at the hospital. My mother, at forty-two, was pregnant. She was pregnant with Richard’s own flesh and blood. She caressed her stomach, a blissful, rosy glow on her face. The arrival of their love child put both of them in a fantastic mood. Richard turned to me. “To ensure the best possible environment for the new family member, we need to reallocate some household resources.” “So, Chloe, your room can be turned into a nursery for your future baby brother.” My heart sank. “Then… where will I live?” Richard tapped the table and pointed towards the balcony. “Your mother and I discussed it. We can enclose that corner of the balcony and put a folding bed there for you.” The balcony? It was drafty in the winter and baked in the summer, with no proper shelter. When I started to cry and protest, my parents’ stance remained firm. Their words, laced with demands for me to be more considerate, were non-negotiable. “With a new baby, we have to tighten our belts. Besides, you’re about to finish your college exams, Chloe. You’re perfectly capable of getting a job like an adult.” “Starting next year, after your exams, you will give up your spot in college and get a job to pay back your debt to us.” No! I had to go to college! My teacher said it was my only way out. I argued, pleading my case. But my mother, her face contorted with anger, slapped me across the face. My parents pulled out the black ledger and a thick stack of loan agreements bearing my name, throwing them on the table in front of me. “Let’s get one thing straight. You are not his flesh and blood. We have no obligation to raise you, especially since you’ve been racking up debt under our system for years! You are a serious loss-making project!” I held my stinging cheek, my gaze fixed on my mother, who was lost in the bliss of her pregnancy. Mom. Don’t you remember? I’m not his flesh and blood. But I am yours. She just looked down, stroking her belly, basking in the happiness of carrying Richard’s child. After a long moment, my resentful stare made her flinch. Finally, as if she’d made a decision, she looked up at me. “Chloe, don’t blame us. Raising a child is expensive. We have to start saving for your brother’s formula and education fund before he’s even born. You’re old enough now. You should be sensible and help the family out. Besides, you already owe us a huge amount of money…” My eyes burned. I stared at my mother in disbelief. I finally understood. In this family, I was nothing more than an outsider in debt. I turned and began to pack my things in silence. 4 My mother’s child, the one that was both hers and Richard’s, wasn’t even born yet. But to show how important this child was, they decided to prepare the nursery in advance. And so, they moved me to the balcony ahead of schedule. On my first night there, my fever returned. It was June, the rainy season. The balcony had windows, but they were leaky, letting in drafts and rain. It felt like a damp, cold cellar. I had to sleep wrapped in two thick blankets. One night, I woke up thirsty and went to the living room for a glass of hot water. On the coffee table sat a half-eaten box of cherries. They were huge, deep crimson, and smelled intoxicatingly sweet. Next to them was a note from Richard. [For my dear wife. These are imported cherries, good for your health. You’re carrying our child, and this is for our baby’s vitamins. Twenty-five dollars a pound. Remember not to let any outsiders eat them.] The outsider, of course, was me. I stared at the cherries, a cold laugh building inside me. Just then, a moan came from the master bedroom. “Water… get me some water…” Richard was on a business trip. Ashley, with exams around the corner, was still out partying at a friend’s house and had decided to stay the night. They were both gone. I pushed open the bedroom door. My pregnant mother was lying in bed, her face pale, her forehead slick with sweat. Because of her age, her pregnancy symptoms were severe. She was having a leg cramp in the middle of the night. She was thirsty and in pain. When she saw it was me, she ordered me around as if it were her right. “Chloe, are you deaf? I’ve been calling for ages. Can’t you see how much pain I’m in? Come here and rub my leg, it’s cramping. It hurts like hell.” I stood by the bed in silence. “Mom, it’s three in the morning.” I looked at her, my voice devoid of warmth. “That’s outside of normal working hours. According to labor laws, night-shift nursing services are charged at double the rate.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388200”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am a doctor from the new era of 3028. I know astronomy, geography, and everything in between, earning me the reputation of a “Living Encyclopedia.” Recently, I began researching a time machine capable of traveling to the past. But who knows which wire short-circuited? With a loud BANG, the machine exploded. Just like that, the “Living Encyclopedia” was offline. Permanently. Perhaps my dedication moved the universe, because in that split second, the time machine actually worked. My soul was sucked into the vortex. After a dizzying spin, I opened my eyes. I found myself sitting at a very plain wooden desk, a test paper staring back at me. 1 Did I… travel back in time? I looked around in amazement, marveling at the primitive surroundings. Is this the legendary “examination method” of 21st-century historical figures written in our history books? The name on the test paper read: Liam. Tsk, what a plain, unpretentious name. I roughly scanned the questions on the paper. These questions? In the 31st century, kindergarteners solve harder puzzles than this. But I couldn’t exactly display future-level genius right away. I had to blend in. So, I breezed through the answers but deliberately got a few wrong. After all, I had to live in this body now; it was better to be cautious and not too flashy. This should be foolproof, I thought, nodding with satisfaction. However, when I walked out of the exam hall, I found my classmates’ faces were darker than charcoal. “As expected of the State Math Olympiad. These questions were brutal.” “Hey, did you hear? Even Sarah, the school genius, was crying.” “Yeah, I couldn’t even solve half of them. They say this year’s Olympiad is the hardest in history.” ? This was not what I expected. Students were gathered in groups of twos and threes discussing the trauma. When they saw me approaching, a boy rolled his eyes at me with disdain. Searching the original owner’s memories, I learned his name was Brad. He was a rich kid who loved causing trouble and bullying the weak. The original “Liam” had been his punching bag for years. He looked at me and shouted mockingly, “Yo, isn’t this the class anchor? Since when are you qualified to take the Olympiad?” “Exactly. He probably couldn’t even read the questions. He’s just dragging down our school’s average.” “Honestly, why bother coming to school? You can’t learn anything anyway.” They laughed together. I shrugged indifferently and walked into the classroom. A few days passed, and I successfully adapted to life at school. Today was the day the Math Olympiad results were released. The scores and rankings would be scrolled on the giant screen outside the school, and the top 10 would get a special spot on the Honor Board. 2 As soon as the bell rang, the students shot out like arrows. I followed leisurely behind. Brad’s mocking voice sounded again. “Yo, the anchor is going to check his score?” “Brad, you don’t know? It’s easy for him to check. He just has to look at the very bottom of the list.” The crowd erupted in laughter again. “Tell you what, I’ll help you look.” Brad walked arrogantly to the screen and started searching from the bottom, ready to continue his ridicule. But after searching for a long time, he couldn’t find my name. “Heh, didn’t expect you to guess so many right this time,” he sneered, twitching his mouth in disdain. At this moment, whispers started among the students nearby. “Who is this Liam?” “Yeah, how come I’ve never heard of him?” More and more people were mentioning my name. Brad heard it too. He laughed sarcastically and pointed at me. “Liam? That’s him right there! The dead weight of Class 5. The waste who comes in last every single time.” “You really are a stain on our class. Your embarrassment has reached other classes now.” But the scene Brad expected—everyone laughing at me—didn’t happen. Instead, the surroundings went quiet. Confused, he followed the gazes toward the top of the list. With just one look, he froze. His face turned so dark it looked like it could drip ink. On the Honor Board, in the number one spot, gold letters flashed brilliantly. Liam. Rank: 1. Score: 98. I looked him in the eye and smiled. “Haha, sorry about that. Accidentally got first place.” Brad’s face fluctuated between colors. He gritted his teeth and glared at me. “How could you get first place? You definitely cheated.” Just then, a student ran up to me. “Liam, the teachers are looking for you.” Brad looked like he had just caught me red-handed. “Hmph, I told you! He definitely cheated. Why else would the teachers want him?” “You’re done for. Cheating in our school means immediate expulsion.” I shrugged indifferently and headed to the faculty office. Almost all the school administrators were there. They held my test paper, looking at me in silence. The Principal spoke up. “Liam, tell us the truth. How did you answer this?” 3 I looked at them and said with absolute honesty, “Teachers, I didn’t copy.” “How is it possible you didn’t copy? With your usual level, how could you get first place?” Mr. Henderson, the math teacher, spoke with a sharp, mean tone. His eyes were full of contempt. He often mocked me for my grades and even enabled Brad’s bullying. I looked him calmly in the eye and retorted, “The Olympiad papers were transported under armed guard. There was no possibility of cheating at any stage.” “Unless a teacher leaked the questions to boost their own reputation. I am your student, Mr. Henderson. Are you trying to dirty your own name?” Mr. Henderson didn’t expect the usually submissive Liam to talk back. His face turned liver-red. “Who knows if you copied off another student?” “Mr. Henderson, in my exam hall, was there anyone worth copying from?” I stood there, calm and open, looking at all the teachers and administrators present. “If you don’t believe me, check the surveillance footage.” But these teachers clearly didn’t believe my story. In their eyes, how could a student who usually ranked last suddenly soar to the top? So, they handled it as a disciplinary violation. I was banned from taking exams. Despite the ban, my score made me famous instantly. Because my score wasn’t just first in our school. It crushed the prestigious private academy next door, St. Jude’s, making me number one in the entire city. I broke records and made history. You have to understand, the students at St. Jude’s usually wouldn’t even look at us public school kids. 4 In their words, we were just the people who would end up working for them. To be surpassed by people they looked down on? The students of St. Jude’s couldn’t handle the loss of face. Being young and arrogant, they started clamoring online. They claimed we just got lucky and demanded a face-off to make us “recognize our reality.” At first, our school accepted the challenge confidently. But in the subsequent series of mock exams, St. Jude’s crushed us in every subject. Under the repeated blows, our students became dispirited, like defeated roosters. None of this had anything to do with me, though. Because I was banned from taking exams. This rivalry with St. Jude’s soon reached a climax. In the mid-term exams, our school suffered a total defeat. The scores were humiliating. After school, I saw a group of people gathering at the school gate. They held megaphones, loudly provoking us. The entrance was blocked tight. Their arrogant faces wore expressions of disdain. “Got one first place in a contest and thought your school was something special?” “Let us teach you how to behave. See the gap between us clearly.” Repeated failures had disheartened my classmates. For a moment, no one dared to speak up. Everyone shrank back like quails. Seeing our fear, they became even more unbridled, shouting arrogantly: “Yo, doesn’t your school have a genius named Liam?” “What, is he scared? Why hasn’t he taken the last few exams?” “Thought he was some peerless genius, turns out he’s just a coward.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388218”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My “white lotus” aunt played the victim, forcing my mother out, thinking she could marry into wealth. But I, with wide, innocent eyes, asked my grandmother: “Aunt Chloe said I’m a ‘money-loser’ and she’ll give me a little brother to be my ‘backer.’ Grandma, what does ‘money-loser’ mean?” Grandma’s face darkened instantly: “It means a fool like her who destroys other people’s families.” “You are not a money-loser; you are Grandma’s precious treasure.” I leaned into Grandma’s arms, a slow smile curving my lips. In my past life, she exploited my softness and youth. After marrying my father, she conspired with her lover to boil me alive in a cauldron. This time, let’s see what she has to fight me with. 1 From the moment I was born, Grandma designated me as the sole heir to the Feng family fortune. Even my father was instructed to return the company to me when I turned eighteen. This was because my maternal grandmother and Grandma were childhood best friends. My maternal grandmother even sacrificed her life to save Grandma. To repay this debt, Grandma demanded my father marry my mother. But my father, wild and free-spirited, broke my mother’s heart. Disappointed in her son, Grandma decided to leave everything to me. After my mother left, my father finally came to his senses, but he could never find her again. To make up for the maternal love I lost, my father invited my mother’s “good sister,” Aunt Chloe, into our home. Aunt Chloe treated me extremely well, always caring for me. When kids bullied me for having no mother, she scolded them fiercely, demanding they apologize. Young and starved for motherly love, I was deeply moved. I even begged my father to let Aunt Chloe be my mother. For my sake, my father agreed. Privately, he demanded Aunt Chloe undergo sterilization, ensuring I would be his only child. She agreed on the surface but faked a medical report claiming she was naturally infertile. She then tried everything to seduce my father. Until I caught her taking folic acid. Aunt Chloe cried to me: “Auntie has a stomachache and needs medicine to get better. Can you keep this secret from Daddy and Grandma?” I nodded, but later overheard her phone call with a man: “That brat saw me taking folic acid. We need to get rid of her immediately.” “A money-loser dares to compete with the son in my belly for the inheritance? Delusional!” Shocked, I tried to run but was pushed off the third-floor balcony. I survived but suffered brain damage, becoming intellectually disabled. To avoid blame, she pretended to fall while trying to save me, bleeding profusely. She cried, claiming she didn’t know she was pregnant and that losing the baby hurt less than failing to save me. My father, blind to her schemes, believed her. Only Grandma suspected something was wrong and wanted to take me abroad for treatment. But Chloe whispered to me that Grandma was an old witch who wanted to eat me to extend her own life. 2 Young and brain-damaged, I couldn’t distinguish truth from lies. I screamed in terror whenever I saw Grandma. Seeing this, Chloe knelt before my father: “I am willing to care for Jane for the rest of my life. I will even have another child to be Jane’s crutch, to care for her forever.” Tearfully, she offered to sign a prenup renouncing all claims to the property. Chloe was a master of disguise, treating me well for years. But two years after giving birth to a son, she tricked me into going abroad under the guise of visiting a spa. There, she and her lover boiled me alive. I was cooked until my flesh separated from my bones, unrecognizable. Grandma died of a heart attack upon hearing the news. My father investigated, but Chloe had covered her tracks. It wasn’t until my father declared he would donate all his assets to charity upon his death that she revealed her true colors, attempting to kill him. But my father was prepared. He tortured her to death, avenging me. Watching my father surrender to the police, I cried uncontrollably. I thought that was the end, but I opened my eyes to find myself back before it all happened. Grandma’s voice was icy: “You claimed to love Jane and would care for her forever, yet now she lies in the hospital, life uncertain! You must give me an explanation!” The familiar voice made me tremble. I opened my eyes to see Chloe kneeling before Grandma, weeping: “Madam, it’s all my fault. I was negligent. I didn’t know I was pregnant. I felt dizzy and missed the chance to grab Jane.” “I don’t dare ask for forgiveness, but please let me see Jane again.” Grandma looked at her impatiently: “Jane survived a great disaster. Why should a jinx like you see her?” “Didn’t you claim you couldn’t get pregnant? How did you conceive now? Is it some wild seed?” The scene awakened my memories. This was the day Chloe pushed me off the balcony. Originally, Grandma wanted to banish Chloe abroad. But when I woke up, remembering only her kindness, I cried and screamed for Aunt Chloe. Remembering what followed, I looked at Grandma with innocent, confused eyes: “Who are you?” Chloe tensed upon hearing me speak, fearing I’d reveal the truth. But realizing my vacant stare and stutter, a bold idea formed in her mind. She squeezed out tears and rushed to my bed: “Jane! It’s me! I’m your Aunt Chloe, don’t you remember?” I looked at her puzzled, silent. 3 Just as Chloe breathed a sigh of relief, I spoke clearly: “Of course I remember you—” Chloe froze, trembling, forcing a bitter smile. Grandma glared at her, then turned to me gently: “Jane, the window is so high. Do you remember how you fell?” Sweat beaded on Chloe’s forehead; she shook like a leaf. I pretended to think, and just as Chloe was about to bolt, I said: “I don’t remember. I only know Aunt Chloe tried hard to catch me. I saw her fall and bleed. Boohoo, will Aunt Chloe die?” Chloe relaxed instantly, crying fake tears: “Even if I die for Jane, it doesn’t matter. I only wish for Jane’s health and happiness.” In my past life, I only cared about Chloe and screamed at Grandma to go away. Grandma was hurt but hid in the shadows for my sake. This time, I didn’t hurt Grandma. Instead, I hugged her tightly. Watching Chloe’s performance, I scoffed internally. Exposing her directly was too boring. Lifting her high only to let her fall hard was the cruelest punishment. I wanted to see who was the better player. My father, negotiating a billion-dollar deal abroad, finally arrived by private jet. Seeing me lying weak in bed, he turned furiously to Chloe: “I just left this morning. How did Jane get hurt like this in less than five hours?” Chloe clutched her stomach, feigning weakness: “It was my negligence. I felt dizzy when I reached out to save Jane.” She looked at my father expectantly, hoping he’d ask about her dizziness. 4 But my father frowned deeply: “You said you were capable of caring for Jane, so I let you live in the villa. Now you can’t even hold a five-year-old? Should Jane take care of you instead?” Chloe looked hurt: “Listen to me, the doctor said I’m pre—” My father raised his hand, glaring at her: “You swore if Jane was hurt a little, you’d be hurt ten times more.” Chloe turned pale: “Listen to m—Ah!” Before she could finish, my father’s female secretary slapped her to the ground. Chloe was shocked: “Why did you hit me?!” She looked pitifully at my father, but he ignored her. His eyes were only on me, red with heartache. The secretary, who had secretly loved my father for ten years, had long wanted to deal with Chloe. This was clearly my father’s order. Slap after slap rained down on Chloe until her beautiful face was swollen. Sharp nails left cat-like scratches. My father glanced coldly at Chloe: “This is a lesson. Next time, you won’t need to stay in this world.” Chloe trembled, remembering my father was a dominant figure in the gray zone. She seemed to be the only woman close to him, but she was just a high-class nanny for me. Hurting me was her biggest failure. My father checked my bruises and sighed in relief, unaware I had become a “fool.” Chloe thought the slaps were punishment for my injury, unaware it was just an appetizer.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388234”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The imposter who stole my life tried to kill herself again, bringing my engagement party to a screeching halt. I was done. Utterly exhausted. I set a metaphorical fire to that grand ballroom and vanished without a trace. Five years passed before the Hawthorne family saw my face again, in an interview printed in a national magazine. My former brother, Julian, made an international call. “Vivian. So you’re not dead after all.” I said nothing. A cold snort came through the line. “The Matriarch’s funeral is in a week. Whether you show up is your business.” After he hung up, my husband, Marcus, must have noticed the look on my face. He walked over, our daughter in his arms. “I can take Coco to the summer camp. You should go back. After all… that woman did help you once.” The truth was, I had no expectations for that family anymore. But she was the only one in that house who had ever shown me a shred of kindness. I nodded, not arguing. The next day, I boarded a flight back to the country I’d left behind. Five years. It was time to go back and settle the old scores, one by one. 1 The Hawthorne estate loomed before me. It was the same as it was five years ago. Grand, imposing, cold. I suppressed the turmoil in my chest and raised a hand to the doorbell. But the door swung open from the inside. Our housekeeper, Maria, saw me and froze. The garbage bag in her hand dropped to the ground with a thud. “Miss Vivian! You… you’re really alive!” Her eyes instantly reddened. When I first returned to the Hawthorne family, I was an outcast, ostracized by everyone. Maria was the only one who looked after me, taking care of my meals and daily needs. “It’s good that you’re back, but Mrs. Hawthorne, she…” Maria wiped a tear from her eye, trailing off. She stepped aside. “Miss, please, come in.” “I heard you were working abroad to support yourself… it must have been so hard. Now that you’re back, you should talk to the young master. You can live a comfortable life, just like Miss Claire. Don’t let things get as bad as they did five years ago…” “You’re still brother and sister, after all. Mr. Hawthorne… he does care about you…” Her eyes were filled with pity. As if I were still the same pathetic creature who used to cry and beg for a scrap of affection from the Hawthorne family. But she didn’t know. I wasn’t that Vivian anymore. I stood my ground, not moving a muscle. “I won’t come in, Maria. Where are her ashes? The old house, or the cemetery?” Maria was stunned. “But Mr. Hawthorne is inside, waiting for you…” Then I wanted to go in even less. Back then, when things were at their worst, my dear brother had thrown me out of the house into a raging storm. “Vivian, you are not worthy of stepping through this door, and you are certainly not worthy of being a Hawthorne! My sister is not some raving lunatic!” “I would rather my sister had been Claire from the very beginning!” I understood then. In Julian Hawthorne’s eyes, I was a nuisance, a stain he was ashamed to acknowledge. I shook my head, unwilling to argue. I was about to ask Maria to just tell me where the ashes were when a low, familiar male voice cut through the air. “Maria doesn’t know where she was laid to rest. If you want to know, Vivian, you’ll have to ask me.” 2 I turned. Julian stood at the end of the corridor, dressed in a sharp suit, his gaze heavy as he watched me. I was taken aback, unable to decipher the emotion in his eyes before he turned and walked toward the living room. Maria nudged me forward, her face alight with pleasure. “Go on, Miss Vivian!” “The young master cleared his entire schedule today, just to wait for you.” I frowned but didn’t want to make things difficult for Maria. Besides, it seemed the answer I needed was one only he could provide. I lowered my gaze and followed him inside. Julian was sitting on the sofa. Seeing me finally enter, a faint smirk played on his lips. He pushed a cup of lukewarm ginger tea toward me. “Flew in overnight? You must have motion sickness again. Drink this, it’ll help.” The sharp, sweet scent hit my nose. For a moment, I was transported back in time. I hadn’t had this in years. The year I was brought back to the Hawthornes, it was Julian who personally came to get me. From a small village to the sprawling capital. A flight of several hours. For a girl who had never been on a plane, it was torture. But I’d heard the villagers say a single plane ticket to the city cost more than a family’s entire harvest for a year. I didn’t dare complain. I just clenched my teeth and endured. When we landed, I threw up until I was dizzy. I still remember Julian frowning, though he said nothing. But after that, whenever we traveled, this man who had been coddled his whole life always chose the train. If a flight was unavoidable, he would always have a cup of ginger tea ready for me. But then, because of Claire, our relationship deteriorated to an icy standoff. The tea, naturally, never appeared again. I snapped back to the present and gently pushed the cup back. “Thank you, but no.” My voice was calm. “I don’t get motion sickness anymore. And I don’t like the taste.” These past few years, I’d been busy building my career, flying all over the world. I’d long since overcome that minor discomfort. Julian’s pupils contracted sharply, the corners of his eyes turning red. After a long moment, he managed a quiet, “Oh.” Silence fell between us. I couldn’t understand why he’d insisted I come in, only to say nothing. My patience wore thin. “Mr. Hawthorne, if you can’t remember where you put Grandmother’s ashes, please don’t waste both our time.” As I stood to leave, Julian shot to his feet. “Vivi, you…” “Is that you, brother? Are you back?” Before he could finish, a sweet, lilting voice interrupted from the garden. A figure in a white dress darted past the floor-to-ceiling windows. My gaze locked onto her. It was her. The person who had occupied my identity for so many years, the darling of the family. Claire Hawthorne. 3 Claire ran to the edge of the garden, her back to the glass doors, seemingly unaware of us in the living room. The breeze lifted the hem of her dress, revealing a gently rounded belly. Was she… pregnant? As I stood there, stunned, an anxious male voice followed her. “Claire, my dear sister, would you please stop running? Do you even remember you’re pregnant?” A handsome young man rushed to her side, carefully shielding her stomach as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Claire pouted, her tone playful. “Oh, stop it. I’m not made of glass. You all forbid me from doing this and that every day. Are you trying to suffocate me? Leo, do you even respect me as your older sister anymore?” “Alright, alright, I can’t win with you.” Leo shook his head, a helpless smile on his face. He turned, and his gaze swept into the living room, crashing into mine. He froze, the smile wiped clean from his face. His eyes were wide, and for a long moment, he simply stared, completely ignoring Claire’s chatter beside him. He was the boy I had grown up with, the little brother who had followed me around for over a decade, crying “sister.” Seeing him so suddenly, even I was stunned for a second. Before Leo could react, Claire, who had also spotted me, offered a soft smile. “Sister, you’re really back! You have no idea how happy I was when Julian told me you were safe!” “You’ve been out of touch for years. He was worried sick! It’s good that you’re back. But please, don’t be so selfish next time, just disappearing without a word. Not only did you suffer abroad, but you broke everyone’s hearts here!” My gaze shifted to Claire. I studied her for a moment, then smiled. “You look so well. My absence these past five years must have been very good for you.” Claire’s eyes immediately reddened. She clutched Julian’s sleeve. “Brother, look at her! She’s just returned, and she’s already talking to me like this, refusing to be civil…” Julian frowned, but for the first time, he didn’t immediately leap to Claire’s defense and scold me. Claire opened her mouth, about to add more fuel to the fire. Just then, Leo, who had been frozen in place, suddenly snapped back to reality. He strode forward and grabbed my shoulders. “You’ve been living abroad all by yourself these years?” His throat bobbed. “Are you… okay? Was it hard?” 4 I sidestepped his touch. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, Mr. Shen. I’ve been doing wonderfully.” Leo flinched as if my words had burned him. He retracted his hands, looking lost. A faint blush crept into his eyes. Five years ago, at my engagement party, he had flipped a table and pointed at me, his eyes, once filled with adoration and reliance, now blazing with hatred. “Vivian, if anything happens to Claire, I will never forgive you for the rest of my life! A cold-hearted, selfish woman like you deserves to rot! You don’t deserve happiness!” Those were his exact words. So why now was he asking if I was okay? Not that I cared. I turned my head, refusing to look at him. “Sis…” Leo’s eyes were red as he stepped forward, looking like he wanted to say more. But just then, Claire clutched her stomach, her face contorted in pain. “Leo, my stomach hurts…” “Claire!” Leo’s attention was instantly diverted. He spun around, shouting for Maria to call the family doctor. He half-carried Claire, and they quickly disappeared up the staircase. I found myself staring at the second floor. Julian walked over to me. “You’re not mistaken. Claire is pregnant. The baby… it’s Ashton’s.” My fingers twitched. He paused, then changed the subject. “When you ran out on the wedding, the Cunninghams didn’t pursue the matter, but it was a great loss of face for them. It was a marriage alliance, after all. Having Claire marry him in your place was a way to settle things.” “Besides, you were gone for so many years. The Cunninghams wouldn’t let Ashton wait that long, especially not for a woman who had made them a laughingstock.” Even after all this time, even though my heart was a placid lake, I couldn’t help but laugh coldly at his twisted version of the truth. “Really? A man marrying his fiancée’s sister right after she leaves? Wouldn’t that be an even bigger joke?” I met his gaze, my eyes like ice. “And are you getting forgetful in your old age, Mr. Hawthorne, or are you just playing dumb?” “Do I really need to remind you why Vivian Hawthorne ran away from her own wedding?” The color drained from the man’s face, leaving it as white as a sheet. 5 The cemetery. I followed the signs to the memorial hall. The staff told me that the Matriarch’s urn would be kept here until after the funeral service. The sandalwood box sat on a shelf, simple and solitary, much like the woman herself. Though I called her Grandmother, we weren’t related by blood. She was my grandfather’s second wife, more than twenty years his junior. In fact, she wasn’t much older than my own parents. Her humble origins and awkward age made her an outcast in a family like the Hawthornes, who valued lineage above all else. She never fought for acceptance. Frail and unable to bear children, she simply lived her quiet life as Mrs. Hawthorne. The Matriarch lived a life of quiet conformity, so much so that she almost left no trace. The only rebellious thing she ever did was help me escape the Hawthorne family five years ago. The smoke from the incense curled upwards, blurring my vision. My mind drifted back to that day. Claire had, once again, staged a suicide attempt at my engagement party with Ashton. But that time, I didn’t let her antics stop the ceremony. I called an ambulance and insisted the engagement continue. My own brother, Leo, the boy I had protected my whole life, stared at me as if I were his mortal enemy. “Why do you have to provoke her? You’ve already gotten the man Claire loves. What more could you possibly want?” My older brother, Julian, looked at me with profound disappointment. “Vivian, you’re being so unreasonable. Must you insist on holding the engagement now and making everyone look bad?” My fiancé, Ashton, said nothing. He simply scooped Claire into his arms and walked out of the party, never once looking back at me. The shocked stares of the guests bored into me. A tidal wave of humiliation and rage washed over me. My ears were ringing. When I came to my senses, I had snatched a cake knife from a waiter and was chasing after them like a madwoman. But a thin, frail figure blocked my path. It was the Matriarch. She was so fragile, she usually spoke in a whisper, but that day, she held me with an iron grip. I struggled, and she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Pathetic!” Her voice was quiet, but it struck me like thunder. “Is a man who can’t make up his mind, who wavers between two women, really worth you debasing yourself like this?” “The women of the Hawthorne family are not weak. Your own grandmother was a trailblazer, a true heroine. Vivian, where is your pride! By demeaning yourself like this, are you not shaming the memory of your parents, who died trying to bring you home?” My cheek stung, my eyes burned. “Grandmother…” “Don’t call me that!” she snapped. She pressed a cold, hard card into my palm and gave me a forceful shove. “Go. And don’t come back.” I stumbled, catching my balance. When I looked up again, she had already turned away, her thin back ramrod straight. Later, I used that money—three hundred thousand dollars—to build a new life in a foreign country. And later still, I found a family of my own. The incense burned down to ash. I bowed deeply. “Grandmother, forgive me for not listening. I came back.” “I’m doing well now. I have a husband who loves me and a beautiful daughter. You can rest easy.” I had only returned to quietly close this chapter, to repay that kindness. But the ghosts of my past refused to grant me peace, appearing one after another. As I left the memorial hall, I ran into him. Ashton Cunningham. The boy who was once my childhood sweetheart, my former fiancé. And now, my sister’s husband. 6 “Vivian!” Ashton got out of a black Bentley, blocking my path. He was out of breath, his hair messy, as if he had rushed here the moment he heard the news. “Vivian, you’re really back! I’ve been looking for you all these years.” He stared at me, his eyes filled with a desperate, lingering affection. I didn’t break my stride, merely glancing at him. “Mr. Cunningham,” I said, my tone a polite reminder, “according to social etiquette, now that you’ve married my sister, you should be calling me ‘sister-in-law’.” Ashton froze, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. “We survived the hardest times together, relying on each other for over a decade. Are you saying you’ve just… forgotten all of that?” I stopped and met his pained gaze. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Ashton, weren’t you the one sleeping with Claire behind my back? Do you really think you have the right to talk to me about our past?” Ashton and I… we really were childhood sweethearts who had supported each other through thick and thin. I had taken a knife for him from a gang of thugs; he had beaten up the bullies who made fun of me. We shared a single scarf in the winter and split a popsicle in the summer. I still remember that summer night when I was seventeen. The stars were incredibly bright. So were Ashton’s eyes. “As soon as we get to college, I’ll get a job. I’m going to buy you a big house!” “Okay,” I’d giggled. “I want one with a balcony, so I can plant flowers.” To save up for our college tuition, I took an under-the-table job at a restaurant. My hands were always pale and wrinkled from the water, but as I counted the crumpled bills late at night, my eyes shone with hope. Then, just before our final exams, the Cunninghams came. Ashton was the long-lost heir to the wealthy Cunningham family of the capital. He was luckier than me. There was no replacement for him at the Cunningham estate. The day he left, he cried, holding my hands. “Vivian, wait for me.” But I waited and waited. My college acceptance letter arrived, but he never did. The next time we met was at the party celebrating my return to the Hawthorne family. I was the newly discovered eldest daughter of the Hawthornes. And he was the new boyfriend of the second daughter.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388250”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years after our breakup, the court’s gavel fell. I owed my ex-boyfriend exactly one hundred thousand, seven hundred and twenty-three dollars. Those extra twenty-three dollars? That was for a candied apple I’d wanted on a street corner in LA, one that cost three bucks back when we had nothing. I’d hesitated, but he just smiled and bought it for me. Now, even that sweet memory had been sharpened into a blade aimed at my heart. He didn’t sue me for the money. He did it because his new wife was bored, and I was her new plaything. He knew my health was failing. He knew that after my parents died in a car crash, depression had swallowed me whole, and I depended on a cocktail of pills just to find the oblivion of sleep. He knew I’d already tried to end it all once, landing me in the hospital with a ‘critical’ tag on my chart. But he did it anyway. What he didn’t know was that the hundred thousand dollars was every last cent to my name. It was the money for my next round of chemotherapy. 1 After the verdict was read, I ran right into Alexander Armitage in the courthouse hallway. He’d changed so much in the few years we’d been apart. The broke student who had been scrambling to build a startup out of a cheap rental was now a titan in the green energy sector. He stood there, formidable in an immaculately tailored suit, his gaze landing on me with a cold, detached distance. My feet froze. My first instinct was to pretend I hadn’t seen him, to find another way around. But he spoke first, his voice slow and deliberate. “So… any regrets?” I blinked, confused. “What?” A cruel, mocking smile twisted his lips. “You must regret it now, right? Dumping me for money.” The late autumn wind cut through my thin clothes. I instinctively curled my fingers into a fist, but a deep, unshakable chill had already settled into my bones. After a moment, I took a deep breath and offered him a perfectly practiced smile. “Mr. Armitage, the debt is settled. We broke up years ago. Aren’t you worried your wife might misunderstand a conversation like this?” As if on cue, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Anabelle standing there, her face a mask of fury. The anger vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a saccharine smile that didn’t quite hide the venom in her eyes. Tapping forward on her stilettos, Anabelle looped her arm possessively through Alexander’s. “Darling, what on earth should I do with this hundred thousand dollars? A new wardrobe? Shoes? Or that designer bag I saw last week?” She shot a pointed look at me, her voice dripping with faux pity. “Actually, that’s not nearly enough for any of those, is it? You’re so stingy, Alexander. Couldn’t you have been a little more generous with your ex? This pittance wouldn’t even cover a new hair clip for me.” Alexander and I had been together for five years. While he was studying in the States, I’d flown back and forth to LA every month. Most of the hundred thousand I now owed him was for the plane tickets he’d paid for, money he’d earned working grueling odd jobs day and night. Now, he and Anabelle had used those transaction records, weaponized by their lawyers, to demand every penny back. The hair clip Anabelle was wearing was from Chanel’s latest collection. It cost twenty thousand dollars. The money she’d just pried from my hands really wasn’t enough. The next moment, Alexander’s expression softened as he looked at her. He tenderately brushed a stray hair from her face. “Hush. Keep it as pocket money. I’ll add to it if it’s not enough.” Anabelle’s face lit up. She leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Oh, darling, you’re the best!” Then, she turned back to me, her smile wide and triumphant. “Laura, I am so sorry. We obviously don’t need the money, but Alexander and I made a little bet. He did this just to make me happy, you know?” Her voice lowered into a conspiratorial whisper. “Ever since we got married, Alexander has insisted I stop working. He says it’s too stressful. So all I do is skincare, spa days, and travel. A girl has to find some way to pass the time, right?” She reached out and grabbed my hand, her eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction. “Thank you for making this so entertaining. And for proving just how much my husband adores me.” A sharp pain, like a thousand tiny needles, pierced my heart. To the wealthy, I was just a game. A tool to prove how doting a husband Alexander Armitage could be. 2 I forced my trembling hands to still and summoned another one of those perfect, empty smiles. “A debt is a debt. It’s only right.” Anabelle’s grin widened. “I hope you always feel that way. My husband is a simple man, you see. He was tricked by someone greedy and superficial. I just wanted to help him get a little payback. No hard feelings, I hope.” Suddenly, her grip tightened, her nails digging viciously into my wrist. I gasped, stumbling backward from the unexpected pain. My heel caught the edge of the top step, and I tumbled down the marble staircase. My knee slammed against a sharp edge, and a hot, wet rush of blood immediately soaked through my jeans. Wincing, I fought back the tremor of pain and looked up at the two figures looming over me. Anabelle covered her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand, her eyes wide with fake shock. “Oh, Laura, are you alright? It was only a hundred thousand. Surely you’re not so devastated you can’t even stand up straight? You look badly hurt. Should we give you a ride home?” That proud smile returned. “Alexander just bought me a new sports car. The gas money to get you home should only cost about a hundred bucks or so.” Her sports car was Alexander’s anniversary gift to her, a monstrosity covered in pink diamonds that perfectly matched her taste. She loved parading it around the city, causing a stir with the paparazzi and collecting the envy of thousands. My gaze shifted to Alexander. His eyes were dark, unreadable pools of shadow. He looked down at me from his lofty height, his expression as cold as a winter storm. Like a stray dog that had lost a fight, I scrambled to my feet, brushing myself off. I managed one last smile. “No, thank you. I can get home on my own.” Anabelle burst into a peal of laughter. “Well, we’ll be on our way then.” She turned to Alexander, her voice bright. “Darling, I know what to buy now.” “Lulu’s dog bowl is broken. I want to get her one of those new smart-feeders.” Alexander’s cold eyes remained locked on me, a flicker of some unreadable emotion crossing his face before it was extinguished. After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice a low murmur. “Whatever you want.” Anabelle took his arm, and they walked away, giddy with their victory. I watched as their dazzling sports car roared past me, disappearing down the street. It wasn’t until a taxi pulled up to the curb that I remembered. I didn’t have any money left for the fare. Alexander would never know. The money he was going to spend on a dog bowl was the money that was supposed to save my life. 3 I dragged my battered body home. My place was a tiny room under a corrugated tin roof, perched atop a tenement building in the city’s forgotten corner. Whenever the wind blew or the rain fell, the metal would groan and screech, a symphony of decay that kept me awake all night. In the summer, it was an oven. There was no air conditioning, and I couldn’t afford the electricity for a fan anyway. I’d suffered from heatstroke more than once. I thought I had hidden myself well enough that Alexander would never find me. I never imagined our reunion would be in a courtroom. My eyes fell on the wall, covered with articles I’d carefully clipped from magazines and newspapers. I walked over and began to tear them down, one by one. They all had pictures of Alexander. Alexander, the rising star of the green energy sector, giving his first major interview. Alexander, accepting an award as one of New York’s Top Ten Young Entrepreneurs. And… Alexander, down on one knee, proposing to Anabelle, followed by photos of their lavish wedding, a spectacle for the media and the public to devour. I took a deep, shaky breath and ripped the last page from the wall. I gathered the scraps and shoved them into a cardboard box I kept hidden under my bed. My gaze caught on a photograph at the bottom of the box. A wave of bitterness washed over me. In the photo, a younger Alexander had his arm wrapped around me, his smile so genuine, so full of shy, uncontainable joy. It was a world away from the icy stranger in the courthouse. He was the CEO of a publicly traded company now. A powerful figure in New York’s business world. A renowned philanthropist. The perfect husband who cherished Anabelle like a fragile treasure. He was everything… except my boyfriend. With a final, humorless laugh, I closed the lid on the box, sealing away the photos and the memories along with them. Then, I went to the mirror, began applying my makeup, and squeezed into a tight-fitting uniform. “Hey, boss,” I texted my manager. “Starting today, I want to work the night shift.” The bar at night was crawling with sleazy men with wandering hands, but the tips were much, much better. I had no choice. To stay alive, I had to earn the money to pay for my own life. But I never, ever expected to see Alexander there. There he was, holding court in the center of a VIP booth, surrounded by his entourage. My fingers clenched into fists, and the exposed skin of my arms and shoulders began to prickle with a hot flush of shame. Of course, he saw me too. A flicker of shock and disbelief crossed his face, quickly replaced by that familiar, sneering contempt. “So this is where you work now.” My palms were slick with sweat, but I forced myself to remain calm. “Your drinks, sir.” Alexander looked at me with the kind of morbid curiosity one might reserve for a rat struggling in a sewer drain. “Makes sense, I suppose. Latch onto any of the rich guys in here and you’ll be set for life. Right up your alley.” I took another deep breath. “Your drinks, sir.” He arched an eyebrow. “How long have you been working here? Don’t you know how to serve a customer?” He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, scribbled a number with a flourish, and tossed it onto the floor in front of me. “Take good care of my friends tonight. Do that, and this is yours.” The check landed at my feet. I slowly bent to pick it up, a searing pain shooting through my injured knee. When I saw the number written on the check, my breath hitched. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. One hundred thousand, seven hundred and twenty-three dollars. The exact amount I had just been forced to pay him. He was using it to humiliate me. I stood there, my eyes locked with his. After a long, heavy silence, my lips parted. “This is payment, Mr. Armitage? So… I don’t have to pay it back, right?” 4 My doctor had warned me about alcohol. But I needed the money. For the past few years, just to survive, I had swallowed my pride and done whatever it took. What were a few drinks compared to that? The men with Alexander tonight were his friends. They knew our story. They knew that three years ago, when Alexander was on the brink of bankruptcy, frantically seeking investors and being hounded by banks, I was the one who walked away. They knew he’d searched for me like a madman, gotten into a car accident because of it, and begged me from his hospital bed not to leave. And I still hadn’t looked back. They hated me. They wanted to defend Alexander’s honor, and they weren’t going to show me any mercy. They plied me with drink after drink until the world dissolved into a meaningless blur and I was nothing but a wreck, slumped over the table. I reached for another bottle, but Alexander’s hand shot out, his grip like iron on my wrist. “Is there truly nothing you won’t do for money?” he snarled. I blinked, trying to focus on his face. Like a beggar, I held out my other hand. “Alexander… the money. You promised…” My voice was a slurred mess. “You said if I drank… if I took care of your friends… you’d give me the money. And you wouldn’t take it back…” His gaze on me grew even more complicated, his thumb brushing over my wrist, over the jagged, faded scars that marred the skin. After my parents died, depression had claimed me. I’d tried to end it more than once. It was always Alexander who pulled me back from the edge. Back then, he would hold me and plead, “Laura, you still have me. Please, live for me. Okay?” But now, he shoved my hand away as if my touch was filth. An even more derisive sneer spread across his face. “I made a promise, yes. But look at my friends. Have you taken care of them?” The circle of men stared down at me, their eyes filled with cold amusement, watching the clown perform. The guests were still sober, but I was already gone. I had failed at my job. Fighting back a wave of nausea, I gave him a weak, foolish smile. “I’ll start over. I’ll keep going until you’re satisfied.” I reached for another bottle, but Alexander had finally had enough. With a roar of fury, he kicked the leg of the table. The whole thing flipped over. Bottles shattered on the floor. I was thrown sideways, my hand landing directly on a shard of broken glass. The pain was sharp, immediate, and blood began to well up from the gash. The door to the room burst open and my best friend, Mia, rushed in. She dropped to her knees and threw her arms around me. “Laura! Are you okay?” She looked up, her eyes blazing with a righteous fury I hadn’t seen in years. “Alexander, are you even human?” she screamed. “After everything she did for you, you force-feed her alcohol like this?” “She has stomach cancer, you bastard! It’s killing her, don’t you get it?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388266”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During a game of Truth or Dare, Lucas drew the “kiss the person to your left” card. His friends, seeing us sitting still, started jeering: “What are you hesitating for? You two have been engaged for three years, don’t tell me you haven’t even kissed yet?” “Wait, is this engagement fake or something?” Lucas tossed the card aside and pressed his thumb against the corner of my lips. He leaned in, smiling. “Sorry, I’m going to have to offend you a little.” To everyone else, from their angle, it looked like a passionate kiss. But in reality, his lips only brushed against his own thumb. My younger sister, sitting in the corner, stared at us. She was so angry she cried until her eyes were red. After the party, Lucas glanced at my sister, who had run off in a huff. He said lazily: “Fiancée, can you go home by yourself tonight?” “I think I need to go comfort my girlfriend first.” 1 I never thought Lucas would actually agree to the kiss. So when he leaned in, I was startled. Instinctively, I shrank back a little. Lucas laughed silently. “Dislike me that much?” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t…” “I have to kiss you, fiancée.” He whispered in a voice only the two of us could hear: “The guy in the corner booth is someone your mom sent to watch us.” “If your mom suspects anything.” “She definitely won’t let me see your sister anymore.” This is the third year of my forced engagement to Lucas. It’s also the third year of his secret relationship with my sister, Chloe. Recently, my mom might have sensed something was off. She started sending people to watch us. The urging around us continued. “Are you gonna kiss or not?” “Stop stalling, you two have been engaged for three years.” Without waiting for my reaction, Lucas’s face instantly magnified before my eyes. As if knowing I would push him away. He grabbed my wrist first and pressed it against his shoulder. A second before our lips touched. He pressed his thumb against the corner of my lips, and his kiss landed lightly on his thumb. Everyone’s view was blocked by the back of Lucas’s head, so they couldn’t see clearly. Thinking he really kissed me, they cheered one after another. Amidst the noise, Lucas pulled back, looking at my stunned expression with a half-smile. “Scared?” Only then did I realize he never intended to kiss me for real. 2 By the end of the party, my sister’s eyes were swollen from crying. She grabbed her bag and ran off angrily without looking back. Lucas rubbed his brows with a headache and said lazily: “Fiancée, can you go home by yourself tonight?” “I think I need to go comfort my girlfriend first.” He picked up his coat and stood up. I looked up and asked him: “Have you ever thought about ending this twisted relationship between you, me, and Chloe?” He didn’t even look up. “Impossible.” “The marriage alliance between our two families maximizes the benefits for both companies.” “We have to get married.” I asked: “Then what about Chloe? Is she willing to go on like this forever?” He didn’t answer. My voice softened. “I’m not willing either.” Lucas looked back, smiling half-heartedly at me. “I haven’t provoked you, have I?” “We’ve been engaged for three years, after all.” “Even if you don’t treat me as a friend, you don’t have to avoid me like the plague and look so disgusted, right, Sarah?” Lucas walked away, and I remained sitting silently in the booth. He didn’t know. I avoided him like the plague because I used to like him. 3 Three years ago, I was found as the real daughter of the family. Chloe instantly became the adopted daughter with no blood relation. I was told I had a fiancé named Lucas. No one told me that Chloe and he had been together. They didn’t talk much in front of others either. So when I learned the truth, it felt like a blow to the head. It stunned me for a long time. Lucas seemed born knowing how to make girls happy. Plus, he was good-looking. Within two months, I fell for him, unsurprisingly. That day, Lucas and I agreed to go to the aquarium. I came out of the house and saw his car waiting at the gate. I jogged over and hugged him. “Why didn’t you come inside to wait for me?” Lucas paused for two seconds before hugging me back with his right hand. Then he raised his left hand, a cigarette burning between his fingers. “Wanted a smoke.” He was heavily addicted to smoking, lighting one up whenever he was annoyed. I was about to ask him what was wrong. My sister followed me out of the house. “Wow, you guys are so sweet.” “I won’t disturb you. I’m going to a concert today.” Lucas lowered his eyes, staring at the cigarette butt in his hand. As if he hadn’t heard her. All my attention was on my sister, waving at her. “Okay, bye.” “It’s going to rain this evening, remember to come home early, Chloe.” On the way to the aquarium, Lucas seemed absent-minded. I tugged at my seatbelt and asked him. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” “No.” He spoke slowly: “Sarah, let’s not go to the aquarium today. I’ll take you to meet someone.” I didn’t ask much, just said: “Okay.” “After the meeting, will you accompany me somewhere else?” “I saw a brochure last night, and I think there’s a place super suitable for us.” Last night, a wealthy heiress I just met sent an invitation. She organized a garden party with a couples theme. Inviting Lucas and me. I heard there were many games and competitions suitable for couples to experience together. Lucas is physically fit and good at games. We should be able to fight for first place. After a long while, he hummed a vague agreement. We arrived at a café I had never been to before. I was stunned. Chloe, who had left half an hour ago saying she was going to a concert. Was now waving at us through the window. “Sister, I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” 4 Lucas and my sister sat opposite me. I sat stiffly, listening to them explain the truth. The original engagement was between Lucas and my sister. They got together as soon as they became adults. But more than two months ago, I came back. To ensure the stability of the marriage alliance, both families ordered them to break up. And transferred the engagement to me. Perhaps to help me and Lucas cultivate feelings better, everyone was asked to hide their affair from me. But in reality, the two secretly turned it into an underground relationship. “Sis, we observed you for two months and felt you are a good person. You probably wouldn’t do anything to break us up.” She smiled brightly. “Besides, it’s only been two months. You surely haven’t fallen for Lucas that fast.” “Even if you had some other thoughts, now that you know he’s your sister’s boyfriend, I believe you definitely won’t anymore.” “Basically, we just want to ask you to help cover for our secret relationship.” “That way, it’ll be a bit more convenient for Lucas and me to meet and date.” “Sis, please don’t refuse me.” They even considered the possibility of me exposing them. My sister acted coquettishly: “Telling others won’t do you any good. They’ll only force you to marry Lucas.” “Don’t you think it’s awkward to marry a man who loves your sister and become husband and wife?” I subconsciously looked at Lucas. He just looked out the window expressionlessly. He didn’t say a word from beginning to end. The coffee in front of me had been sitting for too long, the latte art becoming blurred. My phone notification sound rang abruptly. I unlocked it and opened it. It was the heiress who invited me last night. “Babe, have you discussed it with Lucas?” “Are you coming or not? I’m saving spots for you two.” I typed mechanically, feeling as if my limbs didn’t exist. “Not coming, sorry.” Leaving the café. My sister, afraid of being suspected, didn’t go back with us. On the way back, Lucas didn’t mention what just happened. He was calm, almost nonchalant. “Where did you say you wanted me to go with you earlier?” “Seeing you so happy, what, is there something fun?” My unfocused gaze stared out the car window. It felt like sandpaper was stuck in my throat. It took a long time to make a difficult sound. “Can’t go anymore.” “The event has been cancelled.” Red light, the car stopped slowly. Lucas lowered his eyes slightly, his low voice sounding. “Sarah.” I didn’t answer, and he didn’t speak again. He seemed to understand that saying anything was meaningless.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388283”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Ethan cheated on me. A one-night stand. The girl got pregnant and came to me, demanding Ethan take responsibility. Ethan smoked a cigarette and gave me the power to choose. “It was just once.” “If you can forgive me, we can move on.” “If not, we divorce.” My face was pale as I asked with a trembling voice, “It’s your fault, right?” “If we divorce, you’ll admit it’s your fault, right?” 1 My marriage to Ethan was a hand-me-down from my younger sister. Chloe was lively, cheerful, and willful. She refused to be trapped in a so-called family alliance for a lifetime. So she took a card with twenty million dollars and ran away. My mother felt sorry for her youngest daughter but couldn’t bear to lose a good son-in-law like Ethan. So she pushed me out. As if just being a daughter of the Carter family meant Ethan would marry me. Who is Ethan? A scion of a powerful family where dropping a brick would hit a row of ancestors. He was the biggest of them all. Chloe running away from the wedding had already humiliated him. And now ask him to marry me? Daydreaming, right? But I still went to see him once, recommended myself, and he actually agreed. This year is our fourth year of marriage. To outsiders, we are a model couple. But in private, we treat each other with polite distance, maintaining basic etiquette even in bed. My mother kept urging me to have a child, nagging that I was useless, saying if this continued, I wouldn’t be able to tie Ethan down, and what if he ran away. I wanted to say, Ethan isn’t a dog. I want to tie him down, but would he let me? But I didn’t say anything. I just nodded submissively. My mother hated seeing me like this the most, rolled her eyes, and walked away swaying her hips. But what I didn’t expect was that I really got pregnant. 2 My period was late by one, two, three, maybe four weeks. Last night I bought a pregnancy test, and it showed two lines. Today I went to the hospital for a blood test. The doctor held the report. “9 weeks pregnant. Do you want this baby or not?” “I think so!” I hesitated a bit. Ethan didn’t know yet. This child was also outside our plan. I had to ask him. So holding the report, I went directly to his company. When I arrived, Ethan was in a meeting. The assistant led me to the office, poured coffee and served desserts, asking me to wait a while. I picked up the cup, about to drink. Can I drink coffee when pregnant? Don’t know. Checked it. Yes. Then no problem. I took a sip, sighing with satisfaction. Before I could finish my sigh, a noisy argument came from outside, accompanied by a woman’s scream. I opened the door and met the eyes of the woman being held back. She shouted with red eyes: “Let Ethan come out! He got someone pregnant, doesn’t he need to take responsibility?” Such a loud voice. Such a big scene. So many people. So embarrassing!!! I wished I could find a crack in the ground to hide. I just wanted to say, this has nothing to do with me! Fortunately, Ethan appeared in time. He walked through the crowd with a cold face and saw me peeking through the door crack. That large hand with distinct knuckles covered my eyes. I shrank back instinctively. His hand moved and closed the door. I blinked. Wait. My husband cheated, got someone else pregnant, and now the person involved is at the door. Do I not need to participate at all? 3 Ethan indicated that it wasn’t entirely unnecessary. He dismissed everyone, whispered a few words to that woman, opened the door, and brought her to me. Looking at his calm and composed appearance, I really wanted to applaud. Cheating so righteously like him is probably unprecedented. The woman was cool. Wearing simple sportswear, a high ponytail, and a baseball cap. Sitting there with crossed legs, her whole body screamed “I’m not to be messed with.” But she was undeniably beautiful. Exquisite features, cool and glamorous eyes. Just this look made it hard to hate her. Pity she had a mouth. “Is this your wife?” “Divorce her.” “I’m pregnant, you have to be responsible for me.” I curled my lips. I’m pregnant too, who’s responsible for me? Logically, as the legal wife, I should have more advantage than her, the mistress. But when marriage becomes a battlefield, the more immoral one often acts more righteous. “Sigh!” I sighed, grabbed a cookie and ate it. Milky aroma, not too sweet. Not bad. “Do you want some?” The woman looked disgusted, pointing at me. “Is she crazy?” Ethan finally frowned, a rare sight. He took my hand and pulled me into the lounge. He smoked a cigarette in silence. “Just once.” “I accidentally drank spiked alcohol and had relations with her unexpectedly.” “Sophia.” He looked up at me, his gaze exceptionally serious. Said: “The fault is mine, you make the decision.” “If you can forgive, we’ll live well.” “If not, divorce.” The word divorce suddenly appeared, making my heart skip a beat, then accelerate rapidly. I uncontrollably pinched the web of my hand. “It’s your fault, right?” “If we divorce, you’ll admit it’s your fault, right?” 4 Ethan looked at me seriously. He was handsome, better looking than anyone I had ever seen. I liked looking at him very much. Especially in bed, looking up from below, seeing his blurred eyes, listening to his sexy panting. All this could make me forget everything and experience ultimate pleasure. Divorce, quite a pity. But divorce isn’t impossible. “So, your choice is divorce?” I nodded, pointing outside. “It’s come to this, can’t not divorce!” “Just regarding my mom, you’ll admit it’s your fault, right?” I confirmed again. Ethan’s expression faded. Those strange and distant eyes were quite uncomfortable. But I was best at dealing with inner discomfort. Deep breath, exhale, and it’s fine. Ethan stood up, brushed off non-existent dirt from his clothes, and said calmly: “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” Phew! Then I’m relieved. “If we divorce, I don’t want anything else, I only want Aurora Pharmaceuticals.” “Okay.” “But if it’s convenient for you, a villa would be fine too.” “Okay.” “Can I ask for another three hundred million?” Ethan looked back, staring at me. “Want everything, still divorce?” “If not divorce, everything is yours.” I avoided his gaze, lowered my head, left foot stepping on right foot. What logic. Then don’t cheat! No cheating, no divorce. No divorce, wife and child are yours. ………… Wait. Cheated, divorced, he still has a wife and child. Damn! As expected of a businessman chasing profit, calculated so clearly.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388300”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel