Category: English

My twin brother was bullied to death in high school. The rich kids who did it hid behind their “minor” status, got a slap on the wrist, and went right back to their luxury cars and parties. They thought the problem was buried six feet under. What they didn’t know was that I exist. I was born with Antisocial Personality Disorder, locked away in a psych ward for being too dangerous. But now, I know the truth. I’ve escaped. And I’m walking through the school gates wearing my dead brother’s face. Time to teach them what a real monster looks like. 1 After our parents died, it was just me and my twin brother, Jacob. Neither of us won the genetic lottery. Jacob was born with an intellectual disability—he was innocent, slow, a permanent child. Me? I was born wrong in a different way. The doctors called it Antisocial Personality Disorder. I had violent tendencies and zero empathy. When I was little, I hurt people. My parents, terrified I’d kill someone, pulled me out of school and locked me in a dark room. In that darkness, Jacob was my only light. Everyone feared me—even Mom and Dad—but not Jacob. He’d sneak in, giggle, call my name, and feed me butterscotch candies through the crack in the door. At night, he’d hug me, singing nursery rhymes to calm my rage. When our parents died in an accident, the relatives didn’t want a psychopath. They shipped me off to a state mental hospital. Jacob was left behind to fend for himself in the public school system. I missed him. So, I learned to act. I wore a mask of sanity. I suppressed the violence. I played the model patient for years, just so I could get out and protect him. I finally escaped. I ran all the way home, clutching a piece of candy a nurse gave me, imagining Jacob’s smile. But when I got to our old neighborhood, the neighbors told me Jacob had been missing for two days. Some classmates had “taken him to play.” Mrs. Higgins next door, the only one who ever pitied us, touched my head. “Go find him, Caleb. Those kids didn’t look right. Your brother is slow… don’t let them hurt him.” Panic, a rare emotion for me, seized my chest. I followed her directions to an abandoned textile factory on the edge of town. That’s where I found him. Jacob was curled up in a corner like a broken doll. His legs were snapped. His fingers were bent at impossible angles. He was covered in blood, cold and stiff. One of his eyes was gone—shattered by a rusty nail driven straight into the socket. I didn’t feel sadness the way normal people do. I felt a cold, black void opening up. My brother was gone. The only person who treated me like a human. I fell to my knees beside his body. I pulled him into my arms and screamed until my throat bled. “Jacob! Wake up!” I shoved the sticky, half-melted candy into his slack mouth. “Eat it, Jacob. It’s sweet. I saved it for you. Look at me! Caleb is back! I’m here!” He didn’t move. I pried his fist open. Inside was a crumpled, blood-soaked piece of paper. A “confession letter” they forced him to write. It listed his “crimes”: being stupid, breathing too loud, existing. They killed him for fun. 2 I carried Jacob’s body back to our run-down apartment. I boiled water and cleaned him, wiping away the blood and grime. I pulled the nail out of his eye. I sat there from dusk until dawn, staring at the five names scrawled at the bottom of that bloodied note. My hit list. I needed a plan. But before I could even formulate one, a rat scurried into my trap. Late that night, a window creaked open. Someone was breaking in. It was one of them. Doug. He probably went back to the factory, saw the body was gone, and panicked. “Shit,” he whispered, tripping over a bottle. “Did the retard actually die? That was scary as hell. Whatever, even if he croaked, I’m a minor. Can’t touch me.” He turned on his flashlight and screamed. I was sitting in the corner, staring right at him with wolf eyes. “Jacob?!” Doug fell on his ass, scrambling backward. “You—you’re alive? You freak, don’t scare me like that or I’ll beat you again!” I stood up and flicked the light switch. Doug paused. “Who are you? You… you’re not Jacob.” I smirked. “Smart kid. You can tell us apart even with identical faces.” “Jacob’s eye is messed up,” Doug stammered, realizing his mistake too late. “You… are you his brother?” I didn’t answer. I kicked him in the chest. I’m stronger than the average person. Doug flew back, coughing up blood. He crawled backward until his hand touched something cold. Jacob’s body. He screamed like a banshee. I squatted down in front of him. “As you can see, my brother is dead.” I slapped his sweaty face with an icy hand. “You killed him. Now, how should I punish you?” I beat him until his face was unrecognizable. He broke. “Please! Stop! It wasn’t me! Chloe stabbed his eye! Trent broke his legs! Gavin broke his fingers! I just… I just tricked him into going there!” Four names. The list had five. “Who is Henderson?” I asked, squeezing his throat. “Henderson… cough… he’s our guidance counselor… and homeroom teacher!” My blood ran cold. The teacher was in on it? I didn’t kill Doug. Not yet. I needed him. I dragged him to the basement and threw him down the stairs. Then I carried Jacob’s body down and laid it next to him. “No! Don’t leave me with a corpse! Help!” He was too loud. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a cleaver, and went back down. I sliced the corners of his mouth and used the handle to smash his front teeth out, one by one. “Quiet,” I whispered. He passed out from the pain. I locked the door. Let him rot with the guilt and the ghost. I went upstairs, found Jacob’s spare uniform, and cut my hair to match his. The next morning, I walked into the high school as Jacob. 3 I found Jacob’s desk. It was in the back, next to the trash cans. The surface was covered in permanent marker: Retard. Waste of space. Freak. The chair was sticky with glue. I sat down, my face expressionless. The other students whispered. “Weird… Jacob doesn’t look stupid today. Did he get a brain transplant?” “Jacob,” a boy with glasses walked up, looking terrified. “Mr. Henderson wants to see you.” I stood up. The boy looked at me with pity, like I was walking to my execution. I walked into Henderson’s office. It was empty. I started rifling through his desk. Why was a teacher on Jacob’s hate list? The bottom drawer was locked. “Looking for something, Jacob?” A greasy voice slithered from behind me. I turned. Henderson was leaning against the doorframe, his gold-rimmed glasses glinting. He looked like a viper. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. “Bad boys who snoop get punished.” I wanted to snap his neck right there. But I had to play the part. I cowered, protecting my head. “Sorry! Sorry, don’t hit me!” He slapped me twice. Then he sat in his chair and pulled me onto his lap. “Baby, I missed you. Why didn’t you come to school? Was it because we played too rough last time?” His hand slid down my back, towards my pants. I froze. My brain short-circuited. This sick, twisted animal assaulted my brother? Henderson’s breath smelled like rot. “Are you still sore?” I stood up abruptly, suppressing the urge to vomit. Henderson narrowed his eyes. “What? Are you defying me now?” I clenched my fist. Just as I was about to crush his windpipe, the bell rang. Henderson sighed. “Get to class. We have plenty of time later.” 4 I walked to the door. Henderson stared at me, smiling that predatory smile. He thought I was the prey. I turned and smiled back. A smile void of any humanity. “You’re right, teach. Plenty of time.” I didn’t go to class. I went to the boys’ bathroom. Jackpot. The Trio—Trent, Gavin, and Chloe (who had walked into the boys’ room like she owned it)—were vaping in the back. I hid in a stall and listened. “I heard the retard is back. How? I broke his leg,” Trent said. “And Doug is missing,” Chloe whispered, her voice shaking. “You don’t think… is it a ghost? Did he die and come back?” Trent smacked her head. “Shut up! There are no ghosts. If we can break him once, we can break him again.” I pushed the stall door open. They froze. Chloe screamed. Gavin dropped his vape. Trent tried to act tough, but his hands were shaking. “Jacob? You… how are you walking?” I huddled into the corner, shaking, mimicking Jacob perfectly. “Don’t… don’t hurt me…” Trent laughed, relief washing over him. “See? Same old pussy.” He walked over and grabbed my hair. “Where’s your psycho brother, huh? Usually, you cry for him to save you. Why so quiet?” My fists clenched at my sides.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387273”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During the Great Quake, my sister and I were buried under the rubble. The rescue worker told my parents, “The structure is unstable. If we pull one out, the whole thing might collapse on the other.” Without a second of hesitation, my parents screamed, “Save Sarah first!” Sarah, my older sister, screamed too. “Save me! Get me out first!” During the rescue, the firefighter kept telling her, “Don’t move. Stay still.” But Sarah didn’t listen. She panicked, thrashing and pushing against the debris around her. Because of her, the secondary collapse happened. I was crushed to death under tons of concrete. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. It was the day of the earthquake. 1 I jolted awake in bed, sweat clinging to my skin. I checked the date on my phone. It was that day. Two hours left. The quake would hit at 2:00 AM. It was exactly midnight. I didn’t waste a second thinking. I shoved my feet into my sneakers and ran out the door. In my past life, so many people in this building died. Since I was back, I couldn’t just let them perish. Even saving one life would be worth it. I started from the first floor, pounding on doors like a maniac. “Wake up! Gas leak! Everyone out!” I made sure people were awake before sprinting to the next unit. By the time I had woken up all seven floors, there were only five minutes left. I sprinted back to our apartment. Two minutes. In my last life, I wasted the best escape window trying to wake Sarah up. This time? I’d leave that honor to Mom, the one who loved her most. I burst into my parents’ room. “Mom! Dad! Earthquake! Get up!” They groaned, waking up groggy. I checked the time. Forty seconds. “I tried to wake Sarah, but she won’t budge! What do I do?” My dad sat up, annoyed. “Who says there’s an earthquake? Are you crazy? It’s the middle of the night…” Before he could finish, the floor lurched. “Sarah’s still asleep!” I screamed, feigning panic. Mom’s face went white. She scrambled out of bed and ran toward Sarah’s room, shrieking, “Sarah! Sarah, baby! Wake up! Earthquake!” Dad grabbed my arm. “Run!” The quake didn’t give us time to think. It was violent, immediate. Just as Dad and I stumbled out of the building entrance, a deafening BOOM tore through the air. The building collapsed. Mom and Sarah were trapped inside. Screams and sirens filled the air. Dust choked my lungs. My ears rang, but my mind flashed back to my previous life. That night… the shaking started. I ran to Sarah’s room. She was dead to the world. I shook her, screamed at her, but she wouldn’t wake up. Mom and Dad had already run out. I missed my chance. We were both buried. When dawn came, the rescuers found us. I heard Mom’s voice, frantic and terrified. “Sarah! Hold on, baby! They’re coming! Don’t be scared!” The rescue captain examined the wreckage. “Ma’am, it’s tricky. The debris is interlocking. If we pull one girl out, the shift will likely crush the other. We recommend taking the one on the left first; the structure is more stable there.” That was me. The one on the left. But I knew. I knew who she would pick. Growing up, Sarah was the golden child. I was the spare. “Save Sarah,” Mom said instantly. “The one on the right. In the white pajamas.” Sarah started screaming then. “Mommy, save me! My leg hurts! Me first!” I lay there in the cold dark, watching through a crack as Mom’s desperate eyes fixed solely on Sarah. The firefighter was gentle. He kept warning her, “Kid, do not move. If you move, the debris will fall on your sister.” But as they pulled her, she thrashed. She kicked. She pushed away a support beam. The moment she was free, the weight of the world slammed down on me. I screamed. “Mom! Help me! It hurts!” The rescuers wanted to dig again. They called for backup. But I heard Mom’s voice, cold and final. “Leave it. Even if you get her out, she’ll be crippled. I don’t have the energy to raise a vegetable.” The small hole of light was sealed up. I died in the dark, abandoned. I blinked, coming back to the present. I looked at the ruins. This time, you get to feel what it’s like to be chosen. Or rather, not chosen. 2 “Dad! Watch out for aftershocks!” I pulled my shell-shocked father toward the open park. He was trembling. It was his first time seeing his world end. But I’ve died once. Every breath I take now is a bonus. Rescue teams arrived fast. Dad rushed over, begging them to save his wife and daughter. The building was a pancake. He had no idea where they were. But I did. I “accidentally” led the first team in the wrong direction, where we saved an old lady instead. By the time we circled back to where Mom and Sarah were, six hours had passed. “Dad! I hear Mom!” I shouted. Dad grabbed the captain. They assessed the situation. Then came the verdict. The same verdict. “Sir, it’s complicated. The structure is compromised. We can likely only extract one safely without causing a secondary collapse.” I peeked through a gap. I saw Sarah’s pale face and Mom’s terrified eyes. Dad hesitated. Both were his loves. How could he choose? Unlike Mom in my last life, he struggled. Then, Sarah’s voice pierced the air. “Dad! Save me! I don’t want to die! I’m young! I can make money, I can marry rich, I can take care of you when you’re old!” She sobbed, desperate. “Mom is just a housewife! You can find another wife easily! I’m worth more than her, Dad!” I watched Mom’s face contort in shock. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Surprise, Mom. The daughter you worship sees you as a replaceable servant. Dad made his choice. “Save my daughter.” Mom screamed. “David! Don’t you dare! If I die, I will haunt you forever!” “And you, Sarah! You selfish little brat! I can’t believe I raised you!” Sarah, pinned and in pain, snapped back. “So what if I’m selfish? It’s the truth! Dad is making the smart investment!” Mom’s eyes were full of pure hatred. It was beautiful. But I couldn’t let Mom die just yet. I leaned close to the gap. “Mom! Don’t be scared! I’ll get you out! Don’t give up! I promise I’ll save you!” Such a good daughter. Such a contrast to the ungrateful Sarah. I wasn’t saving her because I loved her. I was saving her because I wanted her to live with the knowledge of her favorite daughter’s betrayal. The rescuers worked hard. They pulled Sarah out. Her legs were black. Necrosis. “Likely amputation,” a medic muttered. Surprisingly, the secondary collapse didn’t happen this time. Maybe because Sarah was too weak to thrash around, or maybe the physics were slightly different. They got Mom out too. Both went to the hospital. Dad stayed with Sarah. I stayed with Mom. I wondered… now that she knew Sarah’s true colors, would she still love her? 3 I sat by Mom’s bed, staring at her sleeping face. It was the first time I’d looked at her this closely in years. She never really looked at me. Grandma told me Mom wanted a boy. She paid a fine to have a second child, hoping for a son. When I popped out a girl, she was furious. She dumped me at Grandma’s in the village. I survived on rice porridge and the charity of neighbors until I was eight. Then Dad brought me to the city for school. Sarah was two years older, already a star student. I was a village kid who barely knew the alphabet. I struggled. I was always last in the class. Mom hated me. I became the live-in maid. Dishes, laundry, sweeping—all mine. I had no time to study. Sarah was the princess. My birthday was a month after hers. They never celebrated mine. They said I would “steal her luck” if I ate her cake. But now? Sarah’s legs were gone. Her face was slashed by rebar. Mom woke up. She looked at me, confused, then relieved. “Mom? You awake? I’ll get the doctor.” She grabbed my wrist. “How is your sister?” I kept my face neutral. “Not good. Her legs… they had to amputate. And her face is badly scarred. She hasn’t woken up yet.” Mom went silent. She stared at the ceiling. When Mom was discharged a few days later, Sarah finally woke up. She lay in bed, seeing Mom alive and well. Her expression was a mix of shock and disappointment. “Mom… you’re okay. That’s… good. Don’t be mad at me, I was just scared.” Mom looked cold. She remembered everything. I walked over and held Mom’s arm. “Mom, sit down. You’re still weak. It’s a miracle you survived. If you hadn’t…” I trailed off, but the implication hung in the air. If you hadn’t made it, Sarah would have been happy. Sarah glared at me. “Lily, shut up! Stop trying to drive a wedge between us! Mom will never love you!” That snapped something in Mom. She turned, grabbed my hand, and teared up. “I’m sorry, Lily. I treated you badly. I promise, I’ll make it up to you. You’re my good daughter.” I smiled back. We’ll see about that. 4 Dad came in with takeout boxes. Three of them. One for him, one for Mom, one for me. None for Sarah. “Why don’t I get one?” Sarah demanded. Dad didn’t look at her. “Doctor said you need a liquid diet. I’ll get you porridge later.” “Why? What surgery did I have?” Silence filled the room. Sarah started to panic. “Tell me! What happened?” Mom, impatient, walked over and ripped the blanket off Sarah’s lower body. Empty space where her calves should be. Sarah’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Tears streamed down her face. Mom wasn’t done. She took a photo of Sarah’s scarred face with her phone and shoved the screen in front of Sarah’s eyes. Sarah screamed. A raw, animal sound. “Shut up!” a nurse yelled from the hallway. “This is a hospital!” Sarah shook her head violently. “No… impossible… I was saved… how…” I ate my chicken, watching the show. “You thought you’d be living the good life?” Mom sneered. “You told your dad to find a new wife? Look at you now. If he finds a new wife, do you think she’ll take care of a cripple? Do you think he will?” “I spoiled you rotten, and you wanted me dead. I raised a wolf.” Dad chimed in, trying to save face. “Honey, I never wanted to leave you. Sarah begged me…” Mom shot him a look. “I only heard Lily promising to save me. Don’t treat me like an idiot.” We moved into a temporary shelter. Sarah needed 24/7 care. She couldn’t use the bathroom alone. Mom refused to touch her. Dad said it was inappropriate. So, naturally, they looked at me. In the past, I would have done it. But Sarah was enjoying ordering me around. One afternoon, Sarah said she needed to poop. I “didn’t hear her.” I was outside washing dishes loudly. Mom and Dad were out. I finished the dishes and started hanging laundry. Mom came back. “Lily, let me help you.” THUMP. A crash from inside. We ran in. Sarah had tried to crawl to the commode and fallen. She was covered in her own filth. Mom gagged and walked out. Dad came back just then. He pulled me aside. “Lily, I found a boarding school in Beijing that will take you. Transfer immediately.” I packed my bag in five minutes. I left Mom and Sarah in the stinking shelter. Mom had to clean her up. She scrubbed Sarah in a plastic tub while Sarah cried. They didn’t speak. But I saw it. The bond. A mother never truly abandons her favorite. But me? Why was I so easy to throw away?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387290”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was the third year I’d been bound to the Maxwell name, serving out my debt. The third year I belonged to Sloan Maxwell. That’s when I decided to leave. I managed to acquire a slow-acting poison, injected it, and walked alone to the edge of the city’s oldest bridge. I thought I would finally die in peace, a quiet exit from the endless storm. But a Rolls-Royce Ghost cut through the sheet of rain and screeched to a stop beside me. The tinted window lowered, revealing the exquisite, cold face that had captivated countless men. “Get the client in the car.” I was practically thrown into the back seat, my sodden clothes soaking the expensive leather in a flash. Sloan didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she gripped my jaw, her thumb rubbing away the rain streaking my forehead. “If you were truly determined to die, you should have chosen a more private way,” she murmured, her voice silk over steel. “Otherwise, I will always find you before death does.” “Will you? I think this time, you’re too late.” Watching the blood bubble from my mouth, a flicker of genuine panic—a rare and startling thing—crossed Sloan’s eyes. “Asher Reed, you have not finished paying for the sin you inflicted on Owen. I forbid you to die!” She summoned the best doctors money could buy, but it was useless. My consciousness was already sinking. In the haze, my mind flashed back to the night that changed everything. Sloan had been standing beneath the fireworks, smiling at me, her phone vibrating in her hand, unseen. Later, she would say it was my selfish insistence that made her miss the final desperate plea from Owen, trapped in the fire. My sin was needing her. My life was supposed to be the payment. I thought, I have paid the full price. But then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the very first day I met her. She was standing there, a girl in a white sundress, like a dew-kissed gardenia in the summer, smiling and waving. I fled like a man possessed. This time, I would not let our lives become entangled. Never again. 1 I ran until my lungs burned, finally leaning, trembling, against an old maple tree on the roadside. I scanned my surroundings frantically. On this exact day in the previous life, I had dropped a prized steel fountain pen. Sloan had picked it up. “Excuse me, classmate, you dropped this.” Just that one look, and I was irretrievably lost. I followed her like a shadow, chasing the faint hope of a fleeting smile. But she remained aloof, a beautiful, perfect statue. I was naive enough to think my relentless passion could eventually melt her cold composure. I poured all my teenage longing into my best friend, Owen Bell. I dragged him to watch Sloan play tennis, pointing to the most radiant girl on the court. “See that? That’s the one I love.” I was full of innocent joy, introducing the two most important people in my life to each other. I was too blind to see the lightning-fast spark of tenderness in Sloan’s cold eyes when she looked at Owen. I missed the complex, unspoken things in Owen’s gaze whenever I brought her up. There was already a current, an undertow of feeling between them that I knew nothing about. I was the clueless fool standing on the shore. On my twentieth birthday, I mustered every ounce of courage and asked her out. “Sloan, could you… could you spend the evening with me for my birthday?” I expected the usual excuses, the polite refusal. But she said yes. She arranged for a spectacular firework display, igniting the night sky in bursts of blinding, dazzling light. I stood there, mesmerized by her elegant profile, illuminated by the flashes of fire. I felt like the luckiest man alive, and I even asked, foolishly: “Sloan, how did you know I love fireworks?” She didn’t answer. All the fireworks that night were shaped like forget-me-nots. Owen’s favorite flower. She just drank with me, glass after glass. Fueled by the alcohol and the stunning light show, I finally lunged, kissing her. “Sloan, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. Please, be my girlfriend.” Only later did I learn her true plan: she intended to use my birthday party as the setting to confess her feelings to Owen. But Owen never showed up. She stayed silent for a long time before finally agreeing to be with me. The fragile bubble of happiness lasted less than half the night. The moment she picked up her phone, she saw the emergency text from Owen. He’d been trapped in a sudden fire right before the party and had been begging her for help. “Sloan, save me.” “Sloan… I’m so scared.” She was with me, celebrating my birthday, and she missed the chance to save him forever. It became my unforgivable sin. She believed that if I hadn’t selfishly demanded she attend that damn party, if I hadn’t monopolized all her time and attention, she would have seen the message. She would have saved him. So, when Sloan graduated and took over the Maxwell family empire, the first thing she did was systematically dismantle and crush my family’s company. I fell from wealth into the deepest mire. My parents, unable to cope, both ended up in intensive care. I knelt before her, begging her to spare my parents. The cold, elegant girl of my memories stood over me, looking down. “Asher Reed, sell yourself to me. Use your life to pay the debt.” Facing the exorbitant hospital bills, I had no choice. I signed a devastating contract and became her captive husband. I thought it would buy my parents safety, but they died anyway. The day after Sloan and I formally signed the marriage certificate. I never knew if Sloan arranged it, but I never got to see them one last time. From then on, she kept me isolated in the Maxwell Estate, escalating her cruelty. I watched her kiss countless men who bore a passing resemblance to Owen, and I was thrown into the basement innumerable times for being “disobedient.” She used every extreme method to punish me, slowly driving me toward a breakdown. She demanded I spend my entire life repaying a mistake I didn’t know I’d made. It wasn’t until my first failed attempt at self-harm that she, as if bestowing a terrible gift, choked me and told me the truth: “Asher Reed, if it hadn’t been for you that night, I would have saved Owen. I have only ever loved him. You are only here to pay the debt for your sin.” The memory seized my chest, a fresh, sharp pain. I doubled over, clutching my heart, sinking to the ground beneath the maple tree. Since our meeting was a mistake from the very start, I prayed it would never start again. 2 I thought by avoiding the beginning of the entanglement, everything would change. But a month later, Owen burst into my studio. His face was lit up with the flush and shyness of a boy in love. He grabbed my hand. “Ash, I’m in a relationship!” A cold, heavy dread settled in my stomach. I managed a strained smile. “Oh… right? Congratulations.” “Guess who it is!” He winked playfully, not waiting for my answer, and announced the news with pure bliss: “It’s Sloan Maxwell! She asked me out. We’re officially together.” I didn’t hear a word Owen said after that. My head was ringing. I almost laughed at the pathetic fool I’d been in the last life. I thought I had brought him into her life. It turned out they were destined. Whether I was there or not, they would find each other. They were the perfect pair. I was the inconvenient, extra obstacle. “Ash? Ash, what’s wrong?” Owen’s voice jolted me back. I realized my face was wet, tears streaming down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away, forcing a smile that felt worse than a grimace. “Nothing. I… I’m just so happy for you.” My purpose this time was to let them have their happiness and keep myself out of the vortex. This was enough. They had nothing to do with me. From that day on, they were inseparable. They walked the campus hand-in-hand. But Owen, still clinging to the habit of our old friendship, always wanted to bring me along. I had to invent excuse after excuse to refuse. Then, he found me one night. “Ash, Sloan’s friends are throwing a party tonight at The Gilded Room. You have to come with me. It’s my first time meeting so many of her people, and I’m a little nervous.” I instinctively shook my head. “Owen, I can’t…” “Please, Ash, my best friend.” He tugged my arm, looking at me with soft, dependent eyes. “You’re my anchor. If you don’t go, who will I talk to? Just come and keep me company, okay?” “…Okay.” The word was a struggle to breathe out, but I couldn’t resist his earnest plea. I arrived with Owen at The Gilded Room right on time. The private lounge was opulent, filled with laughter, expensive clothes, and the clinking of glasses. Sloan and her friends were already there. The moment Owen saw her, he became a happy magnet, rushing to sit in the seat next to her. “Sloan, this is my friend, Ash Reed.” Sloan gave me a brief, dismissive nod, looking through me as if I were a complete stranger. I finally relaxed a fraction, choosing a seat as far away from them as possible, trying to disappear. The dinner was a refined Western affair. A plate of seared foie gras with black truffle was served. Owen reached for his cutlery, but Sloan stopped him with a slight frown. Without a word, she subtly signaled the waiter. “He doesn’t eat organ meat. Replace that with the filet mignon.” Owen looked up at her, delighted. “Sloan, you remembered that?” Sloan simply reached out and gently ran her fingers through his hair. She accepted the steak, meticulously cut it into bite-sized pieces, and placed the plate back in front of Owen. Not skilled with a knife and fork, he smiled gratefully and began to eat. I silently sliced my own foie gras, a bitter taste rising in my throat. I was severely allergic to shellfish, but in the previous life, Sloan had only watched the red welts rise on my neck after I’d accidentally eaten shrimp and mocked me: “Asher Reed, you truly are precious.” Love and indifference were always so clear. Only the previous me was blind enough to miss it, becoming a sacrificial lamb to their romance. The dinner was half over, and I needed to escape. I stood up and leaned over to Owen. “I think I’ve had a little too much to drink. I have a headache. I’m going to get some air.” Owen stood up, immediately trying to steady me. “Ash, I’ll come with you.” I quickly waved him off, telling him to stay and enjoy himself, planning to slip out and head back to campus. But as I turned, I noticed Sloan’s right thumb. She was unconsciously stroking her ring finger. That was a nervous habit she’d developed after she put on her wedding ring in the last life. Did she remember? Did she come back, too? A cold wave of terror hit me. If she was back, would she let me go this time? I didn’t dare think about it, sprinting out of the lounge and into the elevator. Just as the doors began to slide shut, a slender, pale hand shot out, blocking the mechanism. Sloan stood in the doorway, her gaze fixed on me. Gone was the cool, gentle demeanor she showed Owen. This was the dark, predatory look of my contract wife from the last life. I backed up until I slammed against the cold steel of the elevator car. “Ms. Maxwell… I truly don’t feel well. I… I need to go home.” She grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip, locking me in place. The raw, desperate memory of her breaking my arm in a moment of grief-fueled rage—and then having it reset—sent a tidal wave of fear through me. I struggled wildly. “Let me go! Sloan, let me go!” She didn’t release me. Her bottomless black eyes swirled with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “Asher Reed. You came back too, didn’t you?” 3 I panicked, trapped as she cornered me against the elevator wall. “Don’t pretend. Since we’ve been given a second chance, I only expect you to play your current role well. Don’t make Owen unhappy. Remember. This is what you owe him.” She cut me off, leaning in so her shadow completely enveloped me. “He’s nervous because you’re not there. Clean yourself up and go back to him.” With that, the swirling, complex emotion in her dark eyes snapped back to icy coldness. She turned abruptly, hit the lobby button, and stepped out. I couldn’t hold myself up any longer, sliding down the cold wall to the floor. A second chance. I hadn’t gone near her. I hadn’t even spoken to her beyond a few words. Why did she still believe I owed Owen? Why was I still the sinner? My phone vibrated. A text from Owen: “Ash, are you okay? Why are you taking so long?” Seeing his name, I quickly wiped my tears, scrambling back to my feet. At least for now, I couldn’t afford to cross this madwoman. I pushed the lounge door open. The atmosphere inside was at a fever pitch. Everyone was gathered, cheering for Sloan and Owen in the center of the room. “Owen, I love you. Will you be my boyfriend? And when we graduate, let’s get married.” Owen nodded hard, his voice thick with tears. “Yes, I will!” A deafening cheer and whistle erupted from the crowd. Owen hugged Sloan ecstatically, and as he looked up, he saw me standing outside the circle. He immediately grabbed Sloan’s hand and ran toward me. “Ash! Did you see that! Sloan, she… she proposed to me!” He was incoherent with excitement, pulling me into a massive, exuberant hug. “Ash, I’m so happy!” “You too, you absolutely have to find your own happiness. Find someone who loves you.” I silently hugged him back and nodded. “I will. We all will be happy.” But when Sloan heard that last line, her expression suddenly darkened. Owen, who was still holding my arm, tightened his grip. But when I looked at him, his smile was as sweet and joyful as ever, as if nothing had happened. The air between the three of us became heavy, awkward. After the party, Sloan drove us both back to campus in her Rolls-Royce. At the dorm entrance, Owen unbuckled his seatbelt and kissed her cheek. “Sloan, I’m heading up now. Drive safe.” Her expression softened for a fleeting moment, and she nodded. I yanked my door open and jumped out, desperate to escape her presence. Owen stood on the curb, smiling as he waved to Sloan’s car. Only when the taillights of the Rolls-Royce Ghost disappeared into the night did he suddenly call my name. Under the cold glow of the streetlamp, he looked at me, the sweetness gone from his voice. “Asher Reed. You love Sloan too, don’t you?” 4 Owen’s question was a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. “No, I don’t.” I frantically shook my head. He didn’t press the issue. He just patted my shoulder. “Asher Reed, I only want you to remember that you’re my best friend, and Sloan is my fiancé. I don’t want you to do anything that will make us both regret it.” After that night, Owen stopped seeking me out, and I actively avoided both of them. For days, I didn’t see either of them. Soon, my birthday arrived. Terrified of repeating the worst night of my past life, I took a leave of absence from the university and hid at my parents’ home. They were thrilled to have me back and wanted to throw a big party. I immediately refused. I barricaded myself in my room. But as dusk fell, my mother called up the stairs. “Ash, a Miss Maxwell is here to see you.” I bolted downstairs. Sloan was standing right at our front door. She wore a tailored black trench coat, radiating cold. When I reached her, the heavy, embossed invitation card in her hand was flung directly at my face. “Asher Reed. Why, in this life, are you still trying to take Owen from me?” My cheek stung. Confused, I picked up the card. It was clearly a formal invitation for “Mr. Asher Reed’s Twentieth Birthday Gala.” I had no idea what she was talking about. I instantly denied it. “I didn’t do this! I haven’t planned a party!” “Do you still think you can lie?” Sloan scoffed, then tossed a handful of photographs at me. The photos showed a strange man and a stack of gasoline cans. “My people caught a man trying to set a fire outside Owen’s dorm building this afternoon.” “He claims you ordered him to do it.” “Asher Reed, how can you be so wicked! Wasn’t ruining Owen’s life once not enough for you?!” Before I could speak, her cold, furious hands clamped around my throat. “Cough… cough…” The suffocating panic of the previous life’s torture returned instantly. Sloan’s face was contorted with hatred; she genuinely wanted to kill me. Tears streamed down my face, drowned by a mix of despair and absurdity. “Sloan… even if I were still obsessed with you…” “Why would I… try the same… trick you already know?” The hands gripping my neck went rigid. The pure murderous rage in her eyes receded slightly, replaced by confusion and sharp scrutiny. Slowly, she released me. I collapsed to the floor, desperately sucking in air. “I will investigate this.” She looked down at me, her voice still an icy warning. “Asher Reed, you had better hope to God this has nothing to do with you.” “And you’re lucky. Owen is safe this time. If he weren’t, I would make sure you never saw the light of day again.” At that moment, the phone in her coat pocket began to vibrate, a frantic, insistent sound. Sloan’s expression changed instantly. She snatched the phone out. A text message from Owen was clearly displayed on the screen: “Sloan, save me.” Her face went pale, then iron-hard. She grabbed my wrist, her eyes bloodshot, glaring at me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387307”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my grandmother secretly sold me to human traffickers, my mother went insane. My father spent the rest of his life resenting my brother for not watching me closely enough. My brother spent ten years searching for me alone. After traveling the length and breadth of the country with no hope, he slashed his wrists… My grandmother, along with my uncle’s family, seized our house and all our assets. I wanted to burn the house down with them inside. Instead, I was reborn. I was back to that day. I heard my grandmother take the money and tell the trafficker: [Take the girl. Leave my precious grandson for now.] 1 If I hadn’t been snatched by traffickers, I would have been the princess of the family. My dad, my mom, and my big brother adored me. But I was sold into the mountains. A high fever left me slow and “dull,” so the family that bought me sold me again because I was a “waste of food.” I was passed around like a bad penny. Eventually, no one wanted to buy me as a person. They said even if my brain was broken, my kidneys and heart were still good. So, I was stripped for parts and died on a cold table. Only in death could I finally go home. I learned that after I disappeared, Mom and Dad couldn’t handle the grief. They passed away one after another, leaving my brother, Leo, all alone. But Leo never gave up. For ten years, he carried my photo everywhere, asking strangers if they’d seen the little girl with the big eyes. “She’s my sister,” he’d say. “She’s very pretty and very good.” He wore shoes until the soles fell off. He starved himself, living on plain water and stale bread, crying himself to sleep holding my picture. When he finally heard news of my death, the last thread of hope snapped. He was just skin and bones by then. [Mom! Dad! Bella, wait for me. I’m coming to find you!] The blade sliced across his wrist… [Leo!] I tried to save him, but my ghostly hand passed right through his body. The grief and rage were overwhelming. Was I helpless? Was I forced to watch my family die because of me? Suddenly, a blinding light shot through the window. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in the back of a truck that reeked of stale cigarette smoke. I stared at the man in the black leather jacket. Him. The trafficker. That bastard. He pulled a stack of red bills from his pocket and handed them to the woman opposite him. [Auntie, count it. Five hundred bucks. I hear you got two boys, too? I’ll pay triple for them.] 2 Five hundred dollars. That was the price of my family’s destruction. Through the haze of smoke, I saw my grandmother’s “kind” face. She stuffed the money into her pocket with a satisfied smirk. [Dream on. I’m not selling my grandsons.] A chill went down my spine. Tears welled up in my eyes. Why Grandma? Why would she sell me? The trafficker asked what I was thinking: [Auntie, aren’t you scared your youngest son will find out?] [You don’t say, I don’t say, nobody knows,] Grandma scoffed in her thick country accent. [Besides, what’s wrong with selling a girl? She’s just gonna be raised for someone else’s family anyway. If I don’t sell her now, she’ll just get married off later.] [His older brother got arrested and needed a thousand for bail. He refused to give it! Wouldn’t help his own brother but treats a useless girl like a treasure. Me selling his daughter? He forced my hand!] The trafficker laughed loudly. [Alright, Auntie. Call me when you have new stock.] [With this money, I can get my eldest son out!] Grandma added one last instruction: [By the way, take this girl far away. One less mouth to feed, and maybe my rich youngest son will finally give me more alimony!] Because of that one sentence, in my past life, I was sold to a deep mountain village in another province. I never saw the sun again until I died. This time, they will pay. The sedative in my system hadn’t worn off yet. I memorized the route, looking for a chance to escape. There was another child in the truck—a boy who looked like a porcelain doll. He was unconscious, probably snatched too. The truck stopped on a small country road. A woman in a hat leaned into the window and whispered: [Mike, you got a boy this time?] Mike, the trafficker, looked around cautiously and nodded. 3 [Yeah. Twelve hundred.] [Done.] The woman sighed in relief, excitedly handing him cash. She turned around to reveal a bamboo basket on her back. [Put the boy in here.] [Waaah… Mom, don’t leave me alone! Take me with my brother!] I struggled up, grabbing the woman’s sleeve. I knew this was my chance. [Why would I buy a girl?] The woman turned away, but her eyes flickered. The boy in the basket woke up. He didn’t expose me. Instead, he started crying for his “sister.” Mike seized the opportunity to upsell: [Buy her for company. Girls are cheap and can do chores. Sally, we go way back. I won’t gouge you. Seven hundred, take her.] The woman, Sally, was persuaded. I was tossed into the basket for a discounted price. The basket was covered tightly with a cloth. Sally, careless with two sleeping kids, set us down by the roadside while she went to the bathroom. [Stay put. There are bad people around here.] Once her footsteps faded, I shook the boy awake. [Want to go home?] The little guy nodded silently. [Then follow me. No crying. I’ll take you back. If you make a sound, I leave you behind.] I put on my fiercest face. We climbed out of the basket and bolted into the crowd. I didn’t go to the police. The local cops might be in on it. I couldn’t risk it. At the bus station, I used the single dollar in my pocket to buy two tickets. Back then, you didn’t need IDs for buses. The ticket lady looked suspicious, but I grabbed the boy’s hand and smiled sweetly. [Miss, we’re going to the county seat to find Mom. She’s waiting at the station for us.] We made it to the county town, but we had no money for train tickets to the city. So, I smeared dirt on my face and begged all the way. The little boy, whom I nicknamed “Bun,” had a stomach rumbling like thunder. He looked hungry, but he never complained. I was starving too. [We’ll be home soon.] When it got unbearable, we raided trash cans for leftovers. Finally, we scraped together enough for tickets. I spotted a woman boarding and tailed her closely, pretending we were her kids to sneak onto the train. 4 Just as Bun and I stepped onto the train, a group of people rushed the platform. Sally pointed at us and screamed: [My babies! Someone stole my babies!] She lunged to drag us off. Other passengers started pushing us from behind. [Kids, quit running around. Go home with your mom.] My heart hammered in my throat. Was there no escape? I remembered Leo slashing his wrists, clutching our family photo. I went feral. I bit Sally’s hand as hard as I could and wrapped my arms around a seat leg. [Liar! You’re not my mom! Help! She’s a trafficker!] Sally shrieked in pain and slapped me across the face. Crack. Her accomplice kicked me in the ribs. [You dare bite your mother?] I curled into a ball, gasping. The bystanders looked indifferent. Domestic dispute. Not their problem. Through the dizziness, I saw a college girl try to stand up, but her mother pulled her down. [Don’t meddle. It’s family business.] My scalp burned as someone grabbed my hair. The accomplice asked, [Sally, what about the girl?] Suddenly, a small body threw itself over me. Bun cried incoherently: [No… don’t take sister.] Sally scooped him up, her face instantly shifting to a loving smile. [Oh, my precious son. Come on, Momma’s taking you home.] The taste of blood in my throat woke up every nerve in my body. I looked up and screamed with everything I had left: [You don’t even know our names! My mom loves me! She would never hit me like that! You are lying!] Eyes turned toward me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387323”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After caring for my paralyzed husband for over a decade and giving him a dignified funeral, I took our yellowed marriage certificate to claim his inheritance. But the clerk told me the certificate was a fake. My husband’s legal spouse was someone else. My cousin, who had lived in my house for over thirty years, smugly pulled out her own marriage certificate: “Look closely. I am Richard’s legal wife!” Furious, I lunged at her. But my adopted son blocked me. “My parents took pity on you because you were childless and let you be our housekeeper. Now you want to steal my dad’s inheritance? Have you no shame?” Enraged, I slapped him. “If you hadn’t demanded to go play by the river back then, my son wouldn’t have drowned!” My cousin laughed maniacally. “If your son hadn’t died, how would you have willingly raised mine?” The rage was too much. I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the flood. Richard had locked me in the house to stop me from saving my son. 1 “What? You let Andy take your war buddy’s orphan to play by the river? Don’t you know Andy can’t swim? The river has been flooding lately, didn’t you know?!” My voice was shrill as I screamed at Richard. Under his surprised gaze, I turned to leave. “I don’t trust two kids by the river alone. I’m going to get them!” Before I could reach the door, Richard grabbed my arm. “When I came back, they were having fun. Don’t be a buzzkill.” “Country kids grow up in the mountains and rivers. You’re just being dramatic, trying to keep the boy locked up inside!” “Every kid in town is like this. If you can’t raise him right, I’ll take him to the city! You’ll never see him again!” His words were exactly the same as in my past life. Back then, terrified he would take my son away, I listened to him. I hesitated. That hesitation cost my six-year-old son his life. He was swept away by the flood, his body found a day later by villagers downstream. I could never forget his wet, pale body, cold and stiff in my arms. Every night, I saw him in my dreams, reaching out, crying, “Mommy, save me!” My heart felt pierced by a thousand blades. But my husband, snoring beside me, complained my crying was annoying. He said my grief made him and his adopted son, Jacob, look heartless. He said Andy’s death was just an accident, and my crying was just guilt-tripping them. Because of him, I only dared to cry in secret. The stress caused me to miscarry my four-month-old baby, plunging me deeper into despair. Thinking of this, I struggled against Richard’s grip. My cousin, Linda, blocked the door. “Cousin, kids need to be tough! There are tons of kids by the river, nobody else is drowning! Relax!” I bit my lip. “Andy is small. And Jacob—he’s your buddy’s only son. Aren’t you worried?” Richard tightened his grip. “Jacob is smart, don’t worry about him! You’re pregnant, stop running around! Linda rarely visits, go cook something nice for her!” I stared at Richard. Why was he stopping me? In my past life, they never blocked me like this. A chill ran down my spine. Did they come back too? Even tigers don’t eat their cubs. In the past life, it might have been an accident. This time, they were plotting murder! Any minute now, the flash flood would hit. If I didn’t go now, it would be too late! I dug my nails into my palm to stay calm. I couldn’t let them know I knew. Or they might kill me and my unborn child right here. These two had no conscience. Richard used a fake marriage certificate to enslave me for forty years. I cared for his senile parents, raised his son, and tended to him when he was paralyzed. And in the end? He left me homeless and penniless. Now, he wanted to kill my son again so I would continue to be their beast of burden? Rage boiled in my chest, but I forced my body not to shake. “I’m just going to get some vegetables. We’re out of meat, and I ate the eggs. I’ll go borrow some from Mrs. Miller next door!” Linda stopped me immediately. “No need, Cousin! I rarely visit, don’t spend money on me. I’ll eat anything!” Richard’s face darkened. “I’ll go. You rest.” 2 As he walked to the door, Linda followed, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Cousin, I’ll go with you!” Watching them leave together, intimate and shameless. I hated my past self for being so blind. I had seen them being close but thought, they’re cousins. I never suspected a thing. Once their footsteps faded, I rushed to the door. It wouldn’t open. Through the crack, I saw a padlock on the latch. My heart turned to ice. He really wasn’t giving me a chance. Hearing footsteps outside, I yelled to passing kids, asking if they’d seen my son. They told me Andy wanted to come home, but the new kid wouldn’t let him leave. Now, it was almost dark. Only Andy and his new “friend” were left by the river. Cold sweat dripped down my forehead. Richard was so confident leaving Jacob there. Did all three of them come back? If so, my six-year-old didn’t stand a chance against a thirty-something soul in a child’s body. Jacob would throw him in. I begged the kids to find Richard at Mrs. Miller’s. It was a few minutes away. I waited half an hour. I even started the rice cooker. No Richard. I sent villagers twice more. Finally, Richard and Linda returned, laughing, holding a few eggs. Richard explained casually under my furious gaze, “Habit. I locked it without thinking. Got talking with Mrs. Miller’s son. You don’t go out anyway.” Seeing their lingering smiles, my panic subsided. I asked calmly, “It’s getting dark. They aren’t back. Should we look for them?” Richard glanced at the sky. “It’s fine. Boys need to build guts.” Linda smiled. “Cousin, kids love to play. Don’t worry.” I looked them deep in the eyes. “Richard, Jacob is your buddy’s orphan. You’re not worried at all?” Richard paused, then relaxed. “Jacob is a big boy. He can take care of himself!” I said flatly, “Fine. Not my kid, not my problem.” They didn’t know I had already sent my brother to fetch Andy and take him to his house. The only kid by the river now was Jacob. Let’s see if his luck holds up in this life! 3 “Flood! Flash flood by the river! Get your kids and livestock!” The village chief’s gong clanged from the edge of town. I stood up abruptly. “The kids aren’t back! Richard, go find them!” Richard and Linda frowned but didn’t move. “Why are you panicking? It’s water. Kids can run.” I sneered internally. They were so sure my son was the one dying. Seeing me anxious, Richard pushed me down. “Sit. You’re pregnant. I’ll go.” I feigned worry and followed him to the village entrance. Villagers heard my kids were still out and offered to help search. Richard walked slowly. “My boys are smart. Thanks, but you guys go do your work. They’re fine!” The villagers were annoyed. “Last year, grown men got swept away! It’s dark! Hurry up!” I sped up. Suddenly, Linda “tripped” into me, knocking me down. She clutched her stomach, looking pale. Richard roared at me. “What are you doing?! Help her home! She’s frail! If anything happens to her, it’s on you!” I froze. “What about the kids?” “What can happen? I’ll call them!” I had to help Linda home. Passing my brother’s house, I saw him holding my sleeping son. Tears welled up. Near my house, I ran into Richard. “Why didn’t you look for them?” I demanded. “They’re big boys! I shouted, they’ll hear me. Linda is in pain, I have to prioritize!” I sneered and walked home. In the distance, the roar of the flood grew louder. Screams erupted from the other side of the village. People were running toward my house. The fastest runner arrived, gasping. “Sarah! A kid got swept away! Go check if it’s yours! The chief is organizing a rescue!” “What?” Richard and Linda gasped. But their faces held barely concealed joy. I stayed calm. I hoped they’d keep smiling when they found out who it was. Jacob might be reborn, but he was in a child’s body. He couldn’t outrun a flash flood. I stammered, “Impossible! It can’t be Andy! Richard called them back!” Richard chimed in, “Yeah, can’t be my son! You made a mistake!” He added, “I want to help rescue, but I have a pregnant wife and a sick guest. I can’t leave!” The villager scratched his head. “But… they said the kid was wearing green. Only Andy wears green.” Richard and Linda’s smiles widened. Linda looked at me with mock pity. Richard pretended to panic. “Impossible! Andy is smart!” I shrieked, “Definitely not Andy! Wait, Richard, didn’t you bring your buddy’s orphan? Could it be…” “Impossible!” Linda snapped. “Jacob is wearing blue! Only Andy wears green!” 4 I nodded. “If you say so!” Raising Jacob for thirty years, I knew his vanity. Richard made Jacob wear tattered clothes to gain sympathy. But Andy had new clothes. Certain Andy would die, Jacob must have stolen Andy’s clothes beforehand. Watching their smug faces, I smiled. “I’ll go make eggs. Andy loves scrambled eggs!” Just as I entered the kitchen, another messenger arrived. “Sarah! Your kid was pulled out! They did CPR but he needs a hospital! You have the only bike, go now! Or it’ll be too late!” “What? How could it be my kid?” I cried, urging Richard. “Ride the bike! Save him!” Under public pressure, Richard wheeled out the bike. Linda insisted on going. She hopped on the back, claiming she knew first aid. Watching them leave, I walked to my brother’s house. Seeing the little boy who haunted my dreams in my past life, safe and sound, I wept.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387339”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My mother-in-law was having a heart attack. My husband, a top cardiac surgeon, was the only one who could save her. I didn’t call him for help. I just stood there and watched, my eyes cold, as she took her last agonizing breath in front of me. In my last life, when she had this heart attack, I called my husband immediately. He accused me of being a jealous, manipulative wife, faking an emergency just to drag him home. He refused to come. She died in the hospital. And when my father-in-law demanded to know why, my husband swore I had never called him, pinning the entire blame for his mother’s death on me. My father-in-law, consumed by hatred, stabbed me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day. … “Eva, Dr. Chen is the only one who can perform this surgery. You have to get him here now. If he’s not here within the hour, she’s not going to make it.” When I came to, my mother-in-law, Helen, was already on the hospital bed, her breaths shallow and ragged. The situation was critical. On instinct, I pulled out my phone and started to walk away. But after two steps, the image of my father-in-law butchering me flashed through my mind. I hadn’t died after the last stab wound. I remember looking down, my stomach a bloody, mangled mess. A shiver ran down my spine. My husband, Liam, loves to dodge responsibility, doesn’t he? Well, not this time. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before he finally picked up. “What is it?” Liam’s voice was sharp with annoyance. My own voice trembled, thick with unshed tears. “Liam, it’s your mom. She’s had a heart attack. We’re at your hospital, and the head nurse said you’re the only one who can do the surgery. You have to come, please.” There was a pause, then his tone turned cold with fury. “Eva, are you serious right now? I take Winona to the mall for a few hours, and you pull a stunt like this? You’re using my mother’s life to score jealousy points? Have you lost your mind?” “No, I’m not,” I whimpered. “She’s really—” “Liam, honey… I don’t feel so good.” A sweet, delicate voice cut me off. “Winona? Are you okay?” Liam’s voice instantly shifted to panicked concern. He didn’t forget to hiss a final threat into the phone. “Eva, I hope you’re happy now. And you better stop cursing my mother with these fake illnesses, or I swear to God, you’ll regret it.” He hung up. I looked up. The faces of the emergency room staff around me were a mixture of awkwardness and pity. I offered them a helpless smile. Last time, I’d rushed out of the room to make the call, trying not to upset Helen further. But when everything went to hell, Liam, terrified of the hospital’s reprimand and his father’s wrath, denied I had ever contacted him. This time, I made sure to make the call in front of everyone. I needed witnesses. But that wasn’t enough. I hit redial. Once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth try, the call wouldn’t go through. He’d blocked me. I leaned over Helen’s bed. “Mom, just hang on. Liam wouldn’t just leave you.” She was still conscious. As I said those words, her monitor shrieked, the lines going haywire. The doctors and nurses jolted into action, a chaotic ballet of desperation. The head nurse pulled me out of the room, her face grim. “Eva, her situation is deteriorating rapidly. I don’t care how you do it, but you need to get Dr. Chen here. Now.” “But he won’t answer my calls,” I cried, my voice thick with panic. “Then try someone else’s phone.” She disappeared back into the room, leaving me alone in the hallway. Someone else’s phone? I borrowed phones from two different nurses. Both times, as soon as Liam heard my voice, he hung up. The head nurse had given me a direct order. I had to find another way. Wiping my tears, I opened the app for the city’s biggest livestreamer, a guy who ran a channel called “HelpForce Live.” I sent the biggest virtual gift they had. A moment later, I was live with him. “Hello, HelpForce,” I began, my voice choked with sobs. “I’m just a regular person, but I’m in a terrible situation. My mother-in-law has had a sudden heart attack, and Dr. Liam Chen is the only surgeon who can save her. But he won’t take my calls. He’s at the city center mall right now. If anyone sees him, please, tell him to get to St. Jude’s Hospital immediately. His mother only has about forty minutes left.” I finished, my whole body shaking, and sent the streamer a photo of Liam. The streamer hesitated. “Ma’am, I understand you’re upset, but doctors have private lives too. We can’t just ambush him because you say it’s an emergency. This could be a serious invasion of his privacy, so…” 2 Before he could finish, the head nurse burst out of the ER again. “Have you reached him? She’s worse than we thought.” I shook my head, my heart sinking. “That man is completely unreliable,” she muttered. Just then, another nurse poked her head out. “Charge nurse! Patient is in cardiac arrest! Get the crash cart!” Cardiac arrest. The words hit me like a physical blow. I stood frozen for a long moment. Then, as if waking from a trance, I bolted for the elevators. I stabbed the button for the top floor. The hospital’s CEO and all the department heads were in the middle of a board meeting. When I threw the door open, the room fell silent. Every eye turned to me. I spotted Liam’s boss, Dr. Peterson, the head of cardiology. I ran to him and dropped to my knees. “Dr. Peterson, please, you have to save my mother-in-law! She’s dying in the ER!” His face darkened. “Isn’t there a doctor in the emergency room? Why have you come all the way up here?” “Dr. Peterson, I’m Liam Chen’s wife,” I sobbed. “The doctors down there said only Liam can perform her surgery, but he… he can’t make it. Your skills are legendary. Please, you’re the only one who can save her now.” Hearing my story, the CEO gave Dr. Peterson a nod. He agreed to go down and assess the situation. When he heard the full story of my unanswered calls, Dr. Peterson let out a string of curses. “Has Liam lost his mind? He’s always been a bit of a flake, but to abandon his own mother? Don’t you worry, I’ll call him myself.” He pulled out his phone, trying to reassure me as he dialed. The call connected almost instantly. Dr. Peterson’s voice was granite. “Liam, I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. Get back to the hospital now. Your mother has had a massive heart attack, and you’re the only one who can operate.” Liam’s voice on the other end was incredulous. “Dr. Peterson? You’ve got to be kidding me. She even dragged you into her little drama? Sir, I really can’t come back right now. Please don’t fall for her act. You have no idea what this woman will say when she’s jealous. I know my mother’s health. I listened to her heart this morning myself; it was perfect. She used to pull this stunt all the time to get me home. I’m not falling for it again, and with all due respect, neither should you. I have to go.” He hung up before Dr. Peterson could get another word in. Dr. Peterson’s face was a thundercloud. He tried calling back, but the phone went straight to voicemail. Liam had turned it off. “Son of a bitch,” the normally mild-mannered director snarled, his knuckles white around his phone. “Is that man even human?” Just then, the streamer’s voice came from my phone. “You heard it here, folks. It’s real. This is not a drill. If you’re in the city, keep an eye out for Dr. Liam Chen. We need to get him to St. Jude’s!” I’d completely forgotten the livestream was still running. Everything—Dr. Peterson’s call, Liam’s callous dismissal—had been broadcast to the world. When I looked at my screen, the viewer count had jumped to thirty thousand. The chat was flying. [OMG, I was about to roast this chick for being a drama queen, but holy crap, what a plot twist.] [This guy has serious issues. His MOM is dying and he’s out with his side piece? I wanna punch him through the screen.] Seeing that comment, I quickly cried out, “Please, don’t hurt him!” Then, I handed my phone to Dr. Peterson and knelt on the floor, facing the camera. “Everyone watching, please, I’m begging you, help me find my husband. My mother-in-law has always been so good to me. I can’t just watch her die. Liam, if you’re seeing this, please come back. If you save your mother, I’ll do anything you ask.” I slammed my forehead on the cold, tiled floor, over and over again. The raw desperation of the act brought tears to the eyes of the nurses around me. “What kind of scumbag makes his wife beg like this just to save his own mother?” someone muttered. But the performance was for nothing. Half an hour later, Helen was gone. As they wheeled her body to the morgue, the head nurse patted my back. “Don’t blame yourself,” she said gently. I collapsed into her arms, my voice raw with grief. “She’s gone! I don’t have a mother-in-law anymore!” Her own voice was thick with emotion. “You did everything you possibly could, Eva.” “Eva.” A familiar voice cut through my haze of sorrow. I looked up and saw my father-in-law, Arthur. 3 Arthur had just driven in from their country home, still covered in dust and dirt from the fields. As he walked toward me, I saw the ghost of the man from my last life, the man with the knife. I instinctively took a step back. But this time, he just reached out and gently stroked my hair. “I heard the broadcast on the way here. After everything Liam put you through, you still fought so hard for her. Thank you, Eva.” I nodded, my expression a mask of grief. Inside, a wave of relief washed over me. I’d gotten away with it. Arthur went to the morgue to see his wife. The moment the white sheet was pulled back, his legs gave out, and he crumpled to the floor. “Helen, my love, why couldn’t you wait for me? Why didn’t you let me see you one last time?” he wailed. “And that ungrateful son of ours… he’s the one who killed you!” Arthur and Helen had a deep, twisted kind of love. They’d married for passion, not arrangement. But neither of them was a saint. When they were young, Arthur had been so obsessed with her that he’d jumped into a river to force her to marry him. And Helen, who had been in love with someone else, was never faithful after they wed. One was dangerously obsessive, the other perpetually restless. Their life was a cycle of explosive fights. After each one, Helen would storm off to the city to stay with Liam, where she would spend her time criticizing me. She thought a simple accountant like me was lucky to have landed a brilliant surgeon, and she was the one who had introduced Liam to the beautiful and accomplished Winona. She never imagined she was digging her own grave. Arthur said he wanted some time alone with his wife, so I stepped out of the morgue. I was about to sit down and catch my breath when a voice barked my name. “Eva Chen!” A shiver of pure terror shot down my spine. In my past life, Arthur’s attack hadn’t killed me immediately. Liam had found me, bleeding out. I begged him to take me to a hospital. But he was afraid I’d tell the police what his father had done. Instead, he pressed a towel over my face and smothered me. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as he killed me. Vicious. Final. “L-Liam.” My legs turned to jelly. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He shoved his phone in my face. The video of me begging and banging my head on the floor was playing. “Are you addicted to making a scene? Humiliating our family in front of the entire city wasn’t enough for you?” I shook my head. “That’s not what happened.” “Bullshit! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through today? People are calling Winona a homewrecker, screaming at us in the street, forcing me to come here. Are you happy now?” He backed me into a corner. “You said my mother was dying. So where is she? I didn’t see her in the ER.” I pointed a trembling finger toward the morgue behind me. He still didn’t believe me. “Oh, perfect. First, you lie about a heart attack, and now you’re pretending she’s dead? Fine. You’re coming in with me. And if I don’t find a body, I swear to God, you and I are finished.” He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me inside. The moment we were through the doors, he started shouting. “Mom? Where are you? The joke’s over! Honestly, why would you go along with this crazy woman’s scheme? Do you know how embarrassing this is?” His tirade stopped cold when he saw his father. Liam frowned. “Dad? What are you doing here? Don’t tell me Eva tricked you into coming, too.” Arthur strode forward and slapped his son across the face, the sound echoing in the silent room. “You ungrateful bastard,” he seethed. “It’s come to this, and you still don’t believe it? You let your own mother die for some tramp, and you have the audacity to come in here shouting?” Liam’s eyes widened. “What? It was real? Her heart attack… it was real? Then where is she?” Arthur kicked the back of his knee, hard. Liam buckled, landing on the cold floor. He looked up, and his eyes finally met the pale, lifeless face of his mother on the gurney.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387355”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“Swapping her keynote for a draft of a Dr. Seuss book? That is absolutely savage, oh my God, I love it, LOL.” “Look at her up there, completely flustered, can’t even string a sentence together. How did she ever land an Executive VP role?” “Her husband, Owen, at the main table? His face is black. He’s probably going to file for divorce tonight.” “What do you call that? It’s a precision strike. If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the corporate kitchen.” I stood on the stage, the rising chorus of snickers and whispers washing over me, holding the thin sheaf of papers that had been swapped for my actual presentation. I silenced my phone and tossed the worthless script onto the side of the lectern. Did they really think ten years of industry experience was something I read off a teleprompter? I leaned into the microphone and smiled at the sea of murmuring faces. Since the script is gone, why don’t we talk about the company’s dirty laundry for the past year—specifically, those few questionable “business expenses” some people have quietly run through the general ledger. 1 The buzzing chorus of laughter hammered at my ears. My fingers tightened around the few sheets of A4 paper. They didn’t hold the annual financial review; they held a transcript from a children’s show—A Coloring Book Rhapsody, if I recall correctly. It was a perfectly executed maneuver. At the front, at the main VIP table, Sienna Cole was clutching her mouth, shaking with unrestrained glee. Next to her, my husband, Owen Price, the Vice President of Sales, had his head bowed so low he looked ready to dive under the mahogany. He was humiliated. Not because someone had targeted his wife, but because he believed I, his wife, was making a spectacle of myself, embarrassing him, the high-flying VP. The projector screen, meant to display our revenue growth charts, was a mess of scrambled code. Clearly, my USB drive had been compromised too. Three hundred people in the ballroom. Six hundred eyes. All waiting for me to crack. A few ambitious junior staff had already raised their phones, ready to capture this spectacular corporate failure for the company group chat or a viral clip. “Ms. Nash, what’s the holdup?” Dave Miller, the Administrative Manager and a known lapdog of Sienna’s clique, called out with a venomous sweetness. “Are the words too big? Do you need me to come up and sound them out for you?” Another wave of roaring laughter. Owen finally lifted his head, his features tight with open disgust. He waved a frantic hand signal—Get down, now. You’re making a scene. In the past, I might have panicked. I would have felt my eyes sting, fumbled off the stage, and hidden in the ladies’ room to cry. I came from Finance. I was a numbers person. I was articulate with spreadsheets, not people. Not like Sienna, who was a master manipulator, charming clients and confusing the executives in equal measure. But today was different. I had endured this for three months, precisely for this moment. I crumpled the children’s script into a tight sphere. With a flick of my wrist, I lobbed the paper ball. It sailed over the first row and landed with a distinct plop right in the center of Owen’s bowl of lobster bisque. Silence hit the room. Owen shot up, wiping a smear of creamy pink soup from his cheek, his eyes wide and ready to detonate. I didn’t give him the chance. I tapped the microphone twice with my index finger. “Sshhh—” The sharp feedback whine made everyone wince and cover their ears. The chaos evaporated. “Since none of us want to listen to platitudes, let’s talk about something a little more stimulating.” I braced both hands on the lectern, my gaze a deliberate, slow-motion scanner sweeping across the faces at the main table. “Ms. Cole, I heard you closed a three-hundred-million-dollar deal in Europe last month?” Sienna froze, then puffed up her chest, a smug grin replacing her shock. “You’re well informed, Ms. Nash. But that’s Sales territory. An internal audit specialist shouldn’t worry so much about other departments; it causes wrinkles.” Her little cheer squad snickered again. I joined them, my smile icy. “You’re right. I’m in Audit. That’s why I’m curious: what kind of client requires a two-hundred-and-eighty-thousand-dollar ‘public relations’ expenditure on your corporate card at a high-end designer boutique—an expenditure, mind you, for which we have no invoice?” The smile solidified on Sienna’s face. “And how is it, Ms. Cole, that the merchant code for the same expense—though labeled ‘gift purchasing’ in our system—shows up in our transfer records as a five-star couples-only resort in Paris?” The audience erupted in a collective gasp. The people who had been filming my meltdown now swiveled their phones toward Sienna. The look of naked guilt on her face was far more entertaining than any children’s script could ever be. “You… you’re lying!” She stumbled to her feet, her finger trembling as it pointed at me. “Vivian Nash, this is slander! I will sue you!” “Sue me?” I took a voice-activated recorder from my pocket, spinning it once between my thumb and forefinger. “On the 14th of last month, at nine in the evening, you submitted a car service receipt to the reimbursement system for a trip from the office to the Peninsula Hotel, total fare: a hundred and eighty dollars.” “But I have a recording from Owen’s vehicle dashcam that suggests you didn’t go to the hotel at all. You went to the suburban villa that belongs to Vice President Price.” This time, it was Owen’s turn to lose his composure. He was still wiping the bisque from his face, and his napkin fell to the floor, forgotten. Owen and I have been married for seven years. In those seven years, I was the rock. I helped him climb from junior accountant to Vice President. To avoid any appearance of conflict, I volunteered to run the most thankless, grueling internal audit unit. He told me the company was preparing for an IPO and that he needed me, his most trusted person, to protect the perimeter. I believed him. I spent my nights digging through the accounts, plugging the financial leaks. And what was he doing? I was protecting our territory; he was helping another woman buy designer bags. That suburban villa? We bought it as our retirement home. Only he and I had the keys. Last week, when I went to clean it, I found an earring wedged deep in the sofa cushion. I recognized it immediately. Sienna had flaunted it on social media: a limited-edition piece from a major brand. The only pair in the city. Owen was terrified. He rushed over to Sienna, shoving her back into her seat. Then he spun around, yelling at me. “Vivian! Are you drunk? This is the Annual Gala! The Chairman is here! What the hell are you doing? Stop this insanity!” “I’m not drunk.” I stared straight into his frantic eyes. “Owen, I haven’t even had a toast yet. How could I be?” “Security! Where is Security!” Owen roared toward the doors. “Drag this crazy woman out of here! She’s mentally unstable!” No one moved. Because Mr. Robert Harrington, the Chairman, was seated at the head table, a glass of Cabernet in his hand, watching the entire spectacle with an unreadable expression. Mr. Harrington hates dishonesty more than incompetence. Until he gave the word, the head of security wouldn’t dare lift a finger. Seeing no help coming, Owen rolled up his sleeves and charged the stage himself. “Get down here, now!” His face, contorted with rage and fear, looked nothing like the polished, charming VP he usually portrayed. I watched the man I had loved for seven years charge at me like a cornered, rabid dog. “Owen Price, if you touch me, I will upload the evidence of your five-million-dollar corporate fund embezzlement via futures trading to the All-Hands company email list.” Owen’s feet jammed hard on the carpet. He stopped barely six feet away, his entire body rigid, his face bloodless. “You… what did you say?” “Five million.” I held up five fingers, waving them slightly in front of him. “And that was just last quarter’s deficit. This month, to cover that hole, you privately approved contracts with three unqualified vendors put forward by Sienna. How much in kickbacks did you clear on that? A million? Two?” Owen’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently. “Vivian, let’s go home and talk about this…” His voice softened, pleading. “There are hundreds of people here. Show me some respect.” “Respect?” I laughed, a sharp, cold sound. “You talk about respect? Did you respect me when you swapped my keynote for a child’s script?” “That… that was a misunderstanding!” “Misunderstanding my ass!” I slammed the voice recorder hard onto the stage floor. “This recorder holds more than just Sienna’s overtime confession. It holds the complete audio of you two plotting in the break room—how to squeeze me out and how to pin that five-million-dollar fraud on me.” “Owen, I’m done playing your wife.” “Today, at this celebration, you two are my sacrificial lambs.” A dead silence descended upon the room. Even the servers pouring wine froze, their carafes suspended in mid-air. This is the corporate world. The same people who were just laughing at me were now shrinking in their seats, terrified the fire would spread. They weren’t afraid of me; they were afraid of the ledger book in my head. I ran Internal Audit for three years. I knew where every single penny in this company went. I kept quiet before for the sake of the Chairman, for the company’s reputation. But today, reputation was a luxury I was willing to sacrifice. “Who else?” My eyes drifted to Dave Miller, the Administrative Manager who had been the loudest voice of ridicule. Dave was trying to subtly edge himself under the table. “Dave Miller, why are you hiding?” I called his name. Dave jerked, scrambling back to his feet, his face sickly pale. “V-Vivian… Ms. Nash, I’m sorry, I’ve had too much to drink. I misspoke…” “Too much to drink?” I nodded slowly. “Good. Alcohol loosens the tongue. Why don’t you tell everyone here why the office chairs your department purchased were billed at twenty-eight hundred dollars a piece when the market value is eight hundred?” Dave’s forehead was instantly slick with cold sweat. “That… that’s a brand premium…” “Which brand?” I pressed the attack. “Was it a counterfeit brand with a sticker slapped on it, or was it your brother-in-law’s shell factory?” People near Dave quickly shifted their chairs away. “You purchased two hundred chairs. That’s a difference of four hundred thousand dollars. Did you keep that money all to yourself, or did you split it with anyone else?” My gaze flickered, seemingly by accident, toward the VP of HR. The VP of HR, who had been clinking glasses with Dave moments before, was now sitting rigid, staring straight ahead. “Vivian Nash! That’s enough!” A booming voice came from the main table. It was Victor Shaw, the VP of Operations. He was Owen’s closest ally and Sienna’s unofficial mentor. They were a company ‘Iron Triangle’ that had been running roughshod for years. “This is the company’s biggest night! Are you trying to start a witch hunt? Do you have any sense of the bigger picture?” He pointed his finger at me. “Even if Owen and Sienna have made minor mistakes, it was for the sake of the business! You can’t sanitize every corner! If you do this, who will risk their necks for the company in the future?” “Risk their necks?” I smiled at Victor Shaw. “You, Fatty Shaw, don’t get to talk about risk and loyalty.” “If Owen is greedy, you are rotten. Rotten to the core.” I turned my back on him and faced the dark projector screen. The image was in my mind. “Last year, during our holiday sale, we processed a million orders. You, as VP of Operations, single-handedly switched our shipping carrier to a logistics firm owned by your family back home.” “The result? Backlog, lost packages, massive delays. Our customer complaint rate soared by three hundred percent.” “The company spent twenty million dollars on goodwill refunds to quell the customer outrage.” “And that family logistics company? It was conveniently dissolved afterward. And you, Victor, upgraded your sedan to a Range Rover. Am I wrong?” “You’re spewing lies! That was an act of God!” “An act of God?” I scoffed. “Was there a flood at your family’s farm, or did your brains flood out? That logistics company had three thousand dollars in registered capital and no proper warehouse. Were you blind, or was your heart black when you signed that contract?” “Where is the proof? I’ll sue you for defamation!” Victor was still defiant. “The proof is with your wife.” I tossed the quiet bomb into the room. “What?” Victor looked utterly bewildered. “You bought the new car, and you took a mistress. Did you think your wife was ignorant? Last month, she came to me in Audit. I gave her a copy of that logistics contract.” “Based on the timing, the legal separation papers should have reached your doorstep right about now.” Victor Shaw’s knees buckled. He collapsed back into his chair, the heavy wooden frame protesting loudly. The whole room was silent again. In less than ten minutes, I had taken down two Vice Presidents, one Department Manager, and a sales star. It was a performance that would be legendary in corporate circles. My gaze finally settled on the Chairman, Mr. Harrington. The silent captain, who finally set down his glass. Harrington, in his early fifties, with silver hair, had eyes as sharp as an eagle. He didn’t look angry. In fact, there was a trace of grim amusement. “Vivian,” he said, his voice deep and measured. “How much more do you have?” He asked the direct question. I gave the direct answer. “If you mean what’s on the USB drive, about two gigabytes. If you mean what’s in my head, I could go for three days.” Harrington nodded, tapping his finger lightly on the table. “Since everyone is here, let’s get everything on the table at once.” With that statement, Owen and Sienna’s final shred of hope evaporated. They had been counting on Harrington to prioritize the company’s reputation, stop the public spectacle, and handle it quietly. But Harrington was a ruthless pragmatist. This wasn’t just a purge; it was a scorched-earth cleansing. “All right.” I took a deep breath. “Since the Chairman has asked, we’ll continue.” I shifted my attention to Mr. Ken Lee, the Director of R&D. Lee was generally considered a harmless, amiable man, smiling at everyone, well-liked. But now, he refused to meet my eyes. “Mr. Lee, don’t look down; your crown might fall off.” I offered a dry jest. “Your R&D department burned through forty million dollars this year, supposedly developing a proprietary AI intelligent algorithm.” “But I heard that the core code was simply an open-source project you found on GitHub and slightly modified?” “Forty million, Mr. Lee. You could have hired a world-class team for two million. Did you pocket the remaining thirty-eight million to trade Bitcoin?” Lee’s sweat was streaming down his temples. “Ms. Nash, you don’t understand technology. That was secondary development…” “Secondary development—meaning you swapped their logo for ours?” I cut him off without mercy. “And that Bitcoin account? You used the company’s servers to mine for it, didn’t you? Our electric bill went up by six figures a month. Did you think I was blind?” Lee sagged completely. Wherever my gaze landed, silence followed. But the true heavy hitters were the ones behind Owen and Sienna. Their actions weren’t just about embezzlement; they were about asset stripping and preparation for a major secession. “Owen.” I looked back at my still-reeling husband. “Did you think that just paying back the five million would make this all go away?” Owen’s head snapped up, his eyes filled with sheer terror. “You… what are you talking about?” “Last Friday, you and Sienna met with Mr. Richard Zhang of our competitor, Vertex Solutions. You weren’t discussing a partnership. You were selling our company’s core client list to them for twenty million dollars. Correct?” Even Mr. Harrington’s expression hardened at that. Embezzlement is an internal conflict; selling trade secrets is treason. That was the line. “You’re spewing lies!” Owen jumped up, genuinely desperate now. This wasn’t just about losing his job; it was about prison time and being blacklisted forever. “I have proof!” He pointed at me, his finger shaking. “Vivian, this is revenge! You’re doing this because I cheated on you! You want to ruin me because of your wounded pride!” He was attempting to drag the narrative into private melodrama, hoping to undermine my credibility. “Don’t believe her, anyone! She’s a crazy woman! She’s always been paranoid, installing GPS trackers on my car!” Sienna piped up, desperate to help. “She is! Ms. Nash, I know you don’t like me, but you can’t play with the company’s interests! Vertex is our biggest rival! We would never do something like that!” The man and woman, working together in desperate harmony, had a chilling effect. Whispers started circulating in the ballroom. “She does sound unhinged.” “Selling the client list is a federal crime. Price isn’t that stupid, is he?” “Is Vivian having a breakdown?” The tide of opinion began to waver. This is the fragility of human nature: people are often more willing to believe the simple, dramatic explanation—a scorned wife’s revenge—than a complex, high-level conspiracy. Owen seized on the momentum, his eyes turning malicious. He lunged for the stage. This time, he was fast, and he grabbed a half-empty red wine bottle from a nearby table. “Shut up, you bitch!” He was snarling, his stance suggesting he truly intended to smash the bottle across my head. 4 The red wine bottle loomed large in front of me. A large hand shot out from the side, gripping Owen’s wrist like a steel vice. It was Mr. Harrington’s driver and security detail, a silent, imposing man who was always nearby. “Mr. Price, you’ve had too much.” The guard’s voice was flat, but the force in his grip made Owen’s face twist in pain. The bottle clanged onto the carpet, rolling a few times before stopping near Harrington’s feet. Harrington didn’t even glance at the bottle. His eyes were fixed on me. “Vivian, continue.” Owen, still restrained by the guard, struggled and cursed, sounding like a common thug. “Crazy bitch! You have no evidence! You’re just jealous of me and Sienna! You just want to destroy us!” “Evidence?” I reached under the lectern and pulled out a USB drive. “Everyone is wondering what’s actually on this drive.” I plugged it into the laptop on the stage. “They thought by deleting my presentation and replacing it with code errors, the job was done.” “Unfortunately, those of us who manage the money have a habit: we back things up. And we hide the most important files in the most inconspicuous places.” I opened a hidden folder and typed in a complex, lengthy password. The scrambled code on the big screen vanished. It was replaced by a grainy surveillance video feed. The camera was shaky, the angle oddly low, as if it were hidden inside a decorative potted plant. The location: a corporate meeting room. The time: 3:00 PM last Friday. Three people were visible: Owen, Sienna Cole, and a man in his fifties. It was Richard Zhang, the CEO of Vertex Solutions. Sienna took a USB drive from her purse and handed it to Zhang. Zhang took it, plugged it into his laptop, and the screen’s reflection illuminated his satisfied face. He then pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen. Almost immediately, Owen’s phone vibrated. He looked down, and a wave of uncontrollable elation spread from his lips to his eyes. He even showed his screen to Sienna, who laughed and leaned her body against his. The room fell into a suffocating silence. The people who had been defending Owen seconds earlier instantly shut their mouths. The video was incontrovertible proof. “Owen,” I spoke, my voice razor-sharp in the stillness of the banquet hall. “How does it feel to receive a twenty-million-dollar down payment?” Owen’s strength gave out; he would have collapsed if the security guard hadn’t been holding him. He stared at the screen, then at me, his expression a mix of raw terror and absolute despair. “That… that’s fabricated! Vivian! You have a sick mind! You forged a video to frame me!” Sienna shrieked. “Yes! It’s a fake! Mr. Harrington, you have to believe us! We have shed blood and built this company for you!” She began to cry, leaning on theatrics. “Mr. Harrington, she is just jealous that Owen and I are close! She wants to destroy me, destroy Owen, and destroy the company!” “Is that so?” I manipulated the laptop and opened another file. It was an audio recording. “Let’s all listen to this, then.” “Owen, will the old woman figure it out? I’m worried.” That was Sienna’s voice. “Don’t worry about it. She’s just Internal Audit; she won’t find her way to Vertex Solutions. Once we get the full payment, we quit, start a new company overseas, take all our best clients, and the old man will be too late to cry about it!” That was Owen’s voice. “Oh, Owen, you’re so smart! That old woman is pathetic; she actually thinks you’re out there fighting for your family!” “Family? I’m sick of her. She walks around with that perpetually serious face, like a walking corpse. She has none of your spark. When this is done, I’m filing for divorce. Then you’ll be Mrs. Price, officially.” “Really, Owen? I love you!” The clip ended with a few seconds of intimate, unseemly noises. I hit pause. Sienna’s hysterical sobs cut off. She was ash-faced, slumped in her chair. Owen ceased struggling, his eyes vacant. The only sound in the banquet hall was the rapid, shallow breathing of hundreds of people. The audio not only confirmed the commercial betrayal but brutally stripped bare their ugly private life, exposing it to everyone. Victor Shaw and the few other executives close to Owen were pale as ghosts. They realized this was no longer just about Owen and Sienna. It was a vast, corporate earthquake. Harrington’s face was dark. He looked at the wreckage that was Owen, then at me, his gaze complex. “Vivian, where did that recording come from?” “Sienna’s necklace,” I answered cleanly. “The Cartier pendant Owen bought her. She proudly showed it off to me last month. I complimented it, touched it—and secured a micro-recorder to the back of the clasp.” A collective intake of breath swept through the hall. A woman who could endure her husband’s infidelity, subtly attach a wire to his mistress, and meticulously orchestrate a public execution of this scale—she was a new kind of terror. Owen finally reacted. He lifted his head abruptly, and the eyes that once made my heart race were now filled with pure, unadulterated hatred. “Vivian!” he shrieked. “Do you think you’ve won? Do you think you’re clean?” He suddenly laughed, a manic, broken sound. “She’s fooling all of you! She is the most malicious person here!” “She’s not the victim at all! She is the mastermind behind the whole damn thing!” Owen broke free of the guard, pointing his finger right at me. “Mr. Harrington! Do you know why she has all this proof? Because she was planning this from the start!” “That five-million-dollar hole? I didn’t take it! She did! She created those dummy accounts! She wired the money to an offshore account and tried to pin the whole thing on me! She wants to send me to prison so she can take all our marital assets!” “And the client list? That was her, too! She was the one who contacted Richard Zhang at Vertex! She made Sienna and me the fall guys! That USB drive? She gave it to me!” “She hates me, and she hates the company! She wants us all to go down together!” The room erupted again. “What? She did it herself?” “This is an insane twist.” “If that’s true, she’s utterly terrifying.” My stomach dropped. I had anticipated Owen would lash out, but I hadn’t expected him to construct such a grotesque, intricate lie to turn the tables. Harrington narrowed his eyes, refocusing entirely on me. “Vivian, how do you explain what he just said?” My palms began to sweat. All my evidence pointed to Owen and Sienna; I had no clean proof of my own innocence. I hadn’t prepared for a counter-accusation when the evidence against them was so overwhelming. Owen, seeing Harrington’s reaction and the wavering crowd, became more frantic. “Explain? How can she explain? Mr. Harrington, check her accounts! Check her parents’ accounts! The money is still out there! She thought she was flawless, but she missed one thing!” He raised his voice, emphasizing every word. “I have the phone recording of her discussion with Richard Zhang of Vertex Solutions!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387371”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband’s first love and I were kidnapped at the same time. He brought the $5 million ransom and saved her without a second thought. Even our son, whom I carried for ten months, chimed in: “I want to save Auntie Claire! Dad, she’ll be scared if we leave her here!” The System declared my mission a failure: “Once your physical body dies, you will be sent back to your original world.” So I sought death, desperate to go home. But when my husband and son realized I truly didn’t want to live anymore, they hugged me and cried: “I was wrong, please don’t leave us, okay?” 1 After twelve years of trying to win Arthur Gu’s heart, he still chose Claire Shen over me without hesitation. Arthur quickly untied the ropes binding Claire, his eyes full of distress. Beside him, our son, Harry, mimicked his father, rubbing Claire’s red wrists and blowing on them gently. “Auntie Claire, I’ll blow on it so it doesn’t hurt.” The three of them looked like a harmonious family, completely forgetting that I was still in the hands of the kidnappers. Even the kidnapper boss couldn’t help but mock me. “Your husband is lost in dreamland. Guess he’s not coming back for you. Should I just off you now?” Watching the three of them leave, protecting Claire, the System officially declared my mission a failure. The punishment electrocuted me, and I fainted instantly. In my daze, I felt the kidnapper boss scrambling to catch my falling body. “I just said a few harsh words! Did she scare herself to death? Crap, gotta get her to the hospital. Can’t have a dead body on my hands.” 2 Waking up in the hospital, I confirmed with the System in my head: As long as this body dies completely, I can go home, right? After getting a positive answer, I dragged myself to the window. This room was on a high floor, at least fifty feet up. Jumping would be certain death. I opened the window and leaped. The massive sensation of weightlessness hit me. I instinctively reached out, the wind screaming in my ears. But I wasn’t afraid. I even looked forward to death. Just a little more, and I’d be home. Back to the world where people truly loved me. I closed my eyes, waiting calmly. But the falling stopped. Someone grabbed my arm hard. The sudden stop tore my muscles, pain spreading from my arm to my chest. I opened my eyes. My arm felt broken. The person holding me was Sean Song, Arthur’s half-brother. I looked up at the sweating teenager and said calmly. “Let go.” Sean gritted his teeth, gripping tighter, pulling me up with all his might. He roared, “Just because my brother didn’t choose you? Jumping over this? Is your brain filled with shit?” I reached out, prying his fingers off one by one. “Sean, my death is exactly what you want. So, let go.” 3 Sean hated me. Or rather, everyone close to Arthur didn’t accept me. After Claire eloped for love, Arthur married me under family pressure. They were convinced I was an opportunist who took advantage of the situation. They openly isolated, ostracized, and ignored me. Sean was the worst. Using his status as the younger brother, he swaggered into the Gu mansion and destroyed all the baby’s breath flowers I planted in the backyard. Knowing I was allergic to cat hair, he encouraged Harry to adopt a stray kitten. When I refused, he told Harry to cry. The noise filled the living room. Sean watched the fire from the sidelines, then played the good guy. “It’s just a kitten. Let the kid keep it if he likes it.” Harry cried even harder, rolling on the floor, mumbling. “Mommy is bad, I want the kitty.” I kicked Sean and the cat out and patiently explained to Harry that I was allergic to cats but we could get a puppy. Influenced by Sean, Harry only wanted the cat. He wouldn’t listen, pounding on me, demanding his kitten back. A rift formed between Harry and me. Sean seized the opportunity to badmouth me to Harry, turning my son against me at such a young age. He was like a demon from hell, turning my life upside down. 4 I didn’t die. Sean made too much noise, attracting the medical staff. Together, they pulled me up. Sean glared at me, closed the window, and fell silent for once. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His palms were red and purple from the strain. “Jane Xu, I don’t hate you as much as you think.” He lowered his head, bangs covering his eyes. I actually heard a trace of grievance in his voice. Just as I was about to probe further. Sean crossed his arms, looked up, and reverted to his usual nonchalant self. He said heartlessly. “This is just another one of your tricks, right? Let me tell you, my brother doesn’t fall for playing hard to get. Doing this will only annoy him more…” Sean was rambling in his own world while the nurses checked the equipment. Taking advantage of the gap, I walked to the window again and opened it swiftly. Before I could step out, Sean pulled me back. Two attempts. Sean finally realized I wasn’t doing it for attention. I really wanted to die. He dragged me away from the window. Once sure I was under control, he started trying to talk sense into me, his attitude softening. “Don’t do this. My brother isn’t the only man in the world. Why cling to him?” He coughed lightly, cheeks flushing. “I admit, my brother is a terrible husband. But you can divorce him. Dying for him isn’t worth it. Maybe someone secretly has a crush on you, and you just haven’t noticed.” 5 Sean took me back to the old mansion. On the way, he told me. Arthur found out I planned the kidnapping myself and was comforting the traumatized Claire. “My brother is furious. Just apologize to Claire properly later, and it’ll be over.” “Calm him down first, then the divorce will be easier.” I ignored him, turning my head to the window. The scenery blurred past, too fast to catch even a shadow. Thinking back to the kidnapper rushing me to the hospital, I guessed this kidnapping was another frame-up by Claire. Blame me, and she can play the innocent flower in front of Arthur. Not the first time, and won’t be the last. We were like two poles of a magnet, repelling and hurting each other. And Arthur was the iron filing spinning just for Claire. No matter how clumsy her tricks, in his eyes, they were just proof of her vulnerability and need for security. He stood by her side without hesitation. The scales never tipped in my favor. My arguments, despair, and hysteria only earned his cold rebuke: “Stop making a scene. Look at yourself.” 6 I suddenly remembered when I first started “conquering” Arthur. Back then, Claire had run off with the male lead, leaving Arthur, the deep-feeling second male lead, drinking his sorrows away daily. The System told me this drunkard was my target. Only when his affection reached 100% could I go home. I didn’t understand why going home depended on a man’s love. But to go home, I approached Arthur cautiously. He got drunk at bars; I accompanied him. He threw up everywhere; I apologized and cleaned up the mess. He missed Claire’s desserts; I took baking classes to learn his taste. Those hard-made pastries, Arthur threw in the trash without looking. He warned me not to imitate Claire, that I wasn’t even fit to carry her shoes. Later, I stopped baking and learned to cook. Arthur had a bad stomach. When working late, he often skipped dinner. I prepared balanced meals daily and delivered them to his office personally. Maybe my cooking wasn’t bad, because Arthur slowly accepted my presence. Those days were the most harmonious times between us. His affection reached 98%. Just when I thought I could go home soon, a drunken night led to pregnancy. Arthur married me under family pressure. His affection plummeted. From start to finish, he thought I got pregnant on purpose. That it was a trap I set for him. Hilarious. I wasn’t the one who didn’t use protection. He only had himself to blame. He and Claire were the same type of people, liking to pin their faults and sins on others. Does that lessen their guilt? Ha, ridiculous. I can’t understand it. 7 I followed Sean in. Pushing open the Gu family door, the first thing I saw was Claire lying on the sofa, looking cozy. Arthur and Harry were serving her. The big one feeding her fruit piece by piece. The small one sitting by her feet, grinning while massaging her legs. If they had tails, they’d be wagging to the sky. Seeing me, Arthur immediately switched to a stern face. Frowning, he picked up a document from the coffee table and threw it at my face. He stood up, imposing. “Jane! I don’t care if you throw tantrums, but you should never have hurt Claire!” “Is staging a kidnapping just to get my attention fun? If anything happened to Claire, you’d be rotting in jail!” I bent down and picked up the papers scattered at my feet. Reading them, I couldn’t help but sneer. It was just a transcript of the kidnapper’s one-sided confession. If Arthur trusted me even a little bit, he would have checked the bank account that transferred money to the kidnapper and known I was framed. People only see what they want to see. Seeing my expression, Claire got up from the sofa. Seeming afraid I’d say something, she grabbed Arthur’s shirt urgently. “Arthur, I’m fine, don’t be so tense. Sister Jane is a girl, prison would be…” Before she could finish, I slapped her. I used all my strength. The sound echoed through the living room. Claire looked at me dumbfounded, stunned by the slap. Not just her, everyone froze. Arthur reacted first. He went feral, choking me with both hands, his eyes filled with ruthless malice. Survival instinct made me struggle. I looked up at him contemptuously. “You want to jail me with this evidence? You’re an idiot, but the police aren’t.” This provoked Arthur greatly. He increased his grip, cutting off my air. Death approached slowly, but I couldn’t help smiling. 8 At the critical moment, Sean punched Arthur back to reality. Arthur instinctively let go. Lack of oxygen made my legs weak. I collapsed instantly. Gasping for air, I stared at the culprit who ruined my plans twice: Sean. He punched Arthur again, not satisfied. “She was dying! You almost strangled her!” Dazed, Arthur shook his wrist but didn’t fight back. He pushed Sean away, looking at me with a complicated expression, then turned away awkwardly. “So what if she died? She provoked Claire first.” “Yeah, she hit Auntie Claire. She’s a bad mom. I hate bad mom.” Harry hugged Claire’s arm, chiming in angrily. Too lazy to face the ugly faces of the Gu family, I sneaked back to my room while Sean clashed with Arthur. Sean was still arguing, his voice drifting upstairs. “Bro! Jane wanted to die! Didn’t you see her smile when you were choking her? I suspect she provoked you on purpose.” “Wanted to die? She’s desperate to be with me. How could she want to die?” The door closed, cutting off the noise. World peace. I took a fruit knife from the drawer and strode to the bathroom. The sharp blade drew a line of blood on my wrist. Blood dripped down. Facing death wasn’t as painful or terrifying as I imagined.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387387”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The genius singer-songwriter, Noah, released a new album. The single “She Can Hear” instantly dominated the charts, sweeping every major award. He wrote this song back in high school. Back when he was my desk mate. When he sang the final line, he reached out and pulled out my hearing aid. I heard nothing. Years later, I finally learned what the last line was— “I like you.” 1 Noah’s concert just ended, and he’s already trending on Twitter with over a dozen hashtags. His popularity is insane. Especially after closing the show with “She Can Hear”, the song that swept this year’s Grammys and awakened everyone’s nostalgia for first love. I opened Noah’s fan group chat and lurked quietly. The messages were flying by—99+ in seconds. Many fans who just left the concert were spamming keysmashes and crying emojis. The atmosphere must have been electric. Suddenly, someone tagged me: “@Admin, you didn’t go to Noah’s concert?” I’ve been a fan since his debut four years ago. I founded this group. Everyone knows how much I love him. But I couldn’t snag a ticket. The scalper I negotiated with bailed last minute. Maybe it was fate. The chat quickly moved on. “Guys, I think we have a ‘Sister-in-Law’. She was front row, VIP. Gorgeous, wearing a mask. Staff escorted her backstage afterwards.” My eyelids twitched. I exited the chat and checked Twitter. Trending #1: #NoahFirstLove. It was a video. The masked beauty in the front row stood out. Her eyes were striking. She had saved the empty seat next to her for her bag. She looked up at the star on stage, eyes sparkling. On stage, Noah played the piano, radiating light. He kept glancing in her direction. The dazzling lights created a dreamlike vibe, like lovers connecting across a crowd. An insider leaked that the song was written for her. She was the genius singer’s unforgettable first love. “They look so good together!” “Literal romance novel tropes.” “Am I the only one sad about the empty seat used for a bag? That’s a prime spot!” I turned off my phone. 2 I don’t follow celebrity gossip, except for one person. Noah. It’s hard to explain. As he shines brighter, the distance between us grows. I decided to transfer ownership of the fan group and permissions in the next few days. I need to move on. While journaling that night, I listened to “She Can Hear” again. I heard this melody in high school. Noah chose to sit next to me because I was the quietest girl in class. I wouldn’t annoy him or crush on him like the others. Actually, I was just quiet. People called me “Little Deaf Girl,” “Little Mute.” But not Noah. I liked him a little, but I hid it well. He didn’t know. I remember everything about him clearly. Late June of junior year, Noah pulled me up from the ground, wiped the blood from my forehead, and sang this song to me. Same melody, same lyrics. The scent of summer radiated from him, our shadows merging on the ground. When he reached the last line, he suddenly pulled out my hearing aid. My world went silent. I only remember his eyes. He leaned in and sang the last line into my ear. “I like you.” So that was it. 3 Netizens quickly identified the masked beauty from the concert. It was Linda, a singer who debuted on a talent show. Her brand was “Rich Girl Chasing Dreams for Love.” In interviews, she was open about it: “I joined the industry for one person. He’s a musical genius.” Now the answer was clear. It was for Noah. Her Instagram comments were flooded with “Hello, Sister-in-Law.” I didn’t feel much jealousy, just a strange emptiness. So, Noah likes girls like that. Before transferring the fan group, I met up with a fellow fan, “Bunny,” at a coffee shop. “She Can Hear” was playing in the background. The girl at the next table was gushing, “Did you see Linda and Noah’s interview? I’m dying, they’re so cute.” Bunny arrived late. She paused when she saw me. I smiled, eyes crinkling. “What, can’t deaf people like music?” She waved her hands frantically, relaxing the mood. Before handing everything over, Bunny joked, “How long have you been stanning Noah?” “Seven years.” She laughed. “Noah only debuted four years ago.” I looked at my reflection in the glass door and smiled. Seventeen to twenty-four. Seven years. I didn’t miscount. I’ve liked Noah for seven years. “No regrets?” Bunny asked one last time. “No regrets.” 4 I logged into Discord. Everyone uses other apps now, but back in high school, this was it. My friend list was sparse. Under “Favorites,” there was only one name: Noah. His avatar was permanently grey. I added him back when we were desk mates under the guise of homework. But his account was probably hacked or abandoned long ago. It would never light up green again. Even knowing that, I rarely dared to disturb him. I just opened the chat and stared when I missed him. This time, I wanted to say a proper goodbye. I typed and deleted paragraphs, finally sending just three words: “Great song.” Even just those words made my palms sweat. My heart raced, even knowing he wouldn’t see it. Suddenly, the avatar flickered. From grey to green. Online. Noah is typing… He sent two messages: “Thanks.” “Did you hear it?” I froze. I never expected him to see it, let alone reply. When the screen dimmed, I snapped out of it and typed back: “I heard it. Your song is everywhere. Congratulations.” My desk mate had become a legend. I was genuinely happy for his bright future. The “is typing” indicator stayed on for a long time. I waited. Finally, two words came through. “Goodnight.” I guess I’m really bad at chatting. But I felt lucky. At the end of a seven-year crush, I got a “goodnight.” 5 I packed away all my Noah posters and albums. My mom helped. “It’s time to let go.” I hummed in agreement. My mom was actually a fan too, but she met Noah back in high school. She knew I wasn’t chasing a star; I just liked Noah, the person. My mom paused, then said meaningfully, “That girl looks pretty.” She meant Linda. Mom was watching gossip videos about them this morning, checking if I was crying. Netizens dug up Linda’s high school photos. Same high school as us, one year below Noah. She fit the “first love” profile perfectly. Internet sleuths were declaring the ship sailed. I stayed silent, looking at the photo. It was from the sophomore talent show. Linda was the host, announcing the act. Behind her, at the piano, was Noah. Radiant. Even I had to admit, they looked perfect together. 6 The scandal between Noah and Linda was a huge win for Green Valley High. As their alma mater, the school’s upcoming centennial celebration got massive exposure because of Noah. Alumni invitations had been sent out long ago. I was going too. I had no nostalgia for Green Valley High. The only thing worth looking back at was Noah. But I had to go because Noah would be there. I needed to see him one last time to return what I owed him. My mom took out a tin box from her nightstand and carefully handed me a savings book. We didn’t earn much, so saving this amount was hard. It was roughly the cost of the hearing aid Noah gave me back then. Returning it at the reunion wouldn’t take up much of his time. Holding the book, I felt dazed. I was going to see Noah… 7 I didn’t expect getting into the reunion to be so hard. Media outlets were camped outside. Security was tight, checking every alum to prevent paparazzi and crazy fans from sneaking in. I was stuck because I hadn’t received my invitation. I pulled out my student ID, diplomas, everything. I was about to call my retired homeroom teacher when the security guard glanced at my hearing aid with disdain. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he shoved me aside to welcome someone else. I stumbled. Cameras started flashing like crazy. It looked like a red carpet event. I steadied myself and turned around. It was a star. Linda, surrounded by bodyguards, big sunglasses hiding her face. Her face had been trending for two days. The guard recognized her instantly and let her through without asking for an invite. I lowered my eyes and waited for them to pass. But Linda stopped as she passed me. I looked up blankly. Her gaze lingered on my ear, then my face. She paused, then took off her sunglasses, revealing her sharp, beautiful eyes. Linda chuckled. “This is Green Valley High, not a school for the deaf and mute. Did you get lost?” My eyes widened in shock. My face burned. The guard laughed. “Ms. Linda, don’t worry. Our security is top-notch. We won’t let riff-raff in.” I’ve dealt with prejudice before. But this time, it was humiliating. I couldn’t even argue. I just looked down. Then, behind Linda, a sleek black car stopped. The tinted window rolled down slowly, revealing a cold, noble face. I never imagined reuniting with Noah like this. Not when I was so pathetic. I tried to hide my face. Too late. “Winnie.” Noah called my name softly. That was his first sentence. The paparazzi spotted him. Flashes went off like a celebration. “Long time no see. Little Desk Mate.” He enunciated clearly. That was his second sentence. 8 Little Desk Mate. Thinking back to high school, I rarely remember the insults like “Deaf Girl” or “Mute.” I remember Noah waking up from a nap, a red mark on his face, asking raspy-voiced: “Little Desk Mate, what time is it?” Noah was popular. He spoke little, but he wasn’t antisocial. He’d lean back, twirl a pen, smile slightly, and people would flock to him. I was different. Quiet, isolated. My hearing aid back then was cheap and didn’t fit my hearing loss profile. I often zoned out in my silent world. People lost patience trying to talk to me. Only Noah, maybe bored from sitting next to me, would repeat himself patiently. “Little Desk Mate, homework due.” “Little Desk Mate, help me out.” “Little Desk Mate, can you hear me?” “Little Desk Mate.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387403”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Elias always said I had become “tamed” since our last explosive fight. I stopped calling him a dozen times a day to track his whereabouts and no longer begged him to come home early when he traveled. Even when I found a strange lipstick smudge in his jacket pocket, I never asked a single question. This morning, before he left for the office, he was clingier than usual, insisting I personally fix his tie. Before he walked out, he sent me a bank transfer with a note: “Sweetheart, I know you have that hospital appointment today. Keep this. Spend the rest on whatever you want.” I didn’t text back. I just hit ‘Accept.’ After all, the baby was his. He should certainly pay for the procedure. 1 Seeing my silence, Elias suddenly became anxious. That feeling of being unable to grasp me made him lose control. He grabbed my chin and brought his mouth down in a punishing, aggressive kiss—hard and fast. When he finally pulled away, he wasn’t satisfied, and he bit down on my lip hard enough for me to taste the metallic tang of blood before he released me. He buried his face in my neck, his arms locked tight around my waist, like a child afraid of losing warmth. A faint, cloying scent of cheap gardenia wafted over me. I frowned, the first expression I’d shown all morning. “Skye has been shadowing you for years now. How has she still not learned? That cheap perfume is beneath you, Elias.” Elias’s body stiffened. He let go of me. “She came from nothing, Finn. She doesn’t care about designer labels or fancy things.” I nodded, pretending to be reflective. “Or maybe she just doesn’t think they’re as valuable as the title of Mrs. Elias Beckett.” His expression hardened. He pressed his fingers against his temples, looking utterly exhausted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Skye and I are over. We’re just… family now. A brother-sister dynamic. Don’t overthink this, Seraphina.” Overthink? Two people who had slept together calling themselves “siblings.” Didn’t they feel ridiculous? I turned my head, pushed him away, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door. 2 The cold, sterile instruments scraped inside my body, a pain worse than I remembered. Yet, compared to the induced stillbirth three years ago, this was manageable. At least this time, I wasn’t contemplating a leap off the hospital roof. “Where is your man? Why is he letting you go through this alone?” The woman in the bed next to me saw me struggling to sit up and quickly reached for the nurse call button. “Don’t move, sweetie. Your color is terrible.” I glanced at the glass window, catching my reflection. My hair was damp, cold sweat streamed down my face. I looked like a ghost crawled out of a storm drain. “You need proper care after a procedure like this. Someone should be looking after you.” The woman continued to fuss. “You young people are so reckless. It’s so hard to conceive. You can’t just toss a baby aside.” The head nurse, who knew my history, gave the woman a sharp look, silencing her. Everyone here knew I’d nearly died after the stillbirth at seven months. I had been standing in the maternity ward three years ago, happily trying out names for our son, when I saw my husband escorting Skye Collins out of the doctor’s office. Skye, a charity case I’d put through college, was clutching a sonogram. What happened next is a blur. All I remember is screaming, clawing, and thrashing—a complete, unhinged lunatic. And Elias, my husband, was always, only, shielding the other woman. Until a pair of hands shoved me hard onto the cold floor. My vision was instantly washed in a blinding, bloody red. Amidst the nurses’ shocked shouts, I was rushed to surgery. One moment, the life inside me was kicking; the next, it was being scraped away, ripped apart, dissolving into a pool of fluid and flesh. My world had collapsed overnight. I had lost my son, my own flesh and blood, and I saw the true face of my husband. When I climbed onto the hospital’s rooftop ledge, Elias dragged Skye up to apologize. He smashed her head against the concrete, the sound sickeningly dull, until her forehead bled. Skye cried, confessing it had been a bluff—a fake sonogram—that she just wanted his attention. Elias followed suit, weeping, claiming it was a momentary lapse, a terrible mistake. A bluff? A mistake? What did that make my son’s life? They knelt there, one apologizing repeatedly, the other begging for forgiveness. The noise was maddening. Watching their mouths open and close, I felt only disgust. A thought rose from the depths of my gut: Why them? Why was it my child, and not them, who paid the price? As Elias dragged me down, I bit his arm with a desperate, savage fury, my eyes blazing with hate. Blood dripped down my chin. He was clearly in pain, cold sweat pouring down his face, but he didn’t dare pull away. He held me to him like he was terrified I would simply vanish into thin air. It was from that day on that I became “tame.” Compliant. Obedient. 3 The clock ticked past midnight. I used to dread these long, hollow nights. I’d always leave the lights on, stubbornly waiting for Elias to come home. If he didn’t answer my calls, I’d spiral, convinced something terrible had happened. Once, during a brutal storm, the news reported a major multi-car pile-up on his usual route. After twenty unanswered calls, I snatched my keys and rushed into the torrential rain. I drove to every lounge, every bar, every high-end club he frequented. I finally found his car, perfectly intact, parked outside a discreet, members-only establishment. When I burst into the private room, my hair was still dripping water onto the expensive carpet. Elias stripped off his blazer and wrapped it around me, a look of profound embarrassment flashing across his face. “What are you doing running out in your nightgown?” he snapped, his voice laced with annoyance. “Didn’t you even think to grab an umbrella?” His friends erupted in laughter. “Ooh, look, the little wifey came to check his leash!” “Is that your wife, Beckett? Her outfit is certainly… unique.” “Elias, my man, that’s rough. Your phone has been blowing up all night.” The mocking laughter made Elias’s face turn a darker shade of red. He shoved the car key into my hand. “Get home. You’re making a scene.” Making a scene. The words pierced my heart. I instinctively reached out to take his hand, but he violently flicked mine away. I stared at my empty fingertips, lost. The joy I’d felt at finding him safe was instantly drowned by that cold, relentless rain.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387419”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel