Category: English

I went on the reality show The Perfect Partner with my wife, Sophia. Knowing her stomach is sensitive in the mornings, I woke up before dawn to slow-cook a nutrient-rich bone broth. My father-in-law, Arthur, just scoffed. “Stop pretending. It’s just performative nonsense for the cameras.” later, when we hit traffic on the way to our date, I rented a tandem bicycle. I pedaled us toward the restaurant, trying to recreate the carefree days of our youth, laughing the whole way. My stepdaughter, Lily, rolled her eyes when she saw the footage. “So fake. You can tell he’s desperate for attention.” My wholehearted devotion was met with a zero-star rating from my wife’s family. It wasn’t until the production crew, in front of millions of viewers, aired a montage of Sophia and her late husband, Lucas. The scenes were natural, overflowing with love. That was the moment I finally understood why my careful, tiptoeing attempts to please them never made the grade. It wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough. It was simply because I wasn’t Lucas. Nothing more. 1 The massive LED screen on the soundstage lit up. They were playing home videos of Sophia and Lucas. No one had warned me. I just stood there, in front of a national audience, watching my wife be deeply, madly in love with a ghost. On screen, Sophia stood on her tiptoes, pulling Lucas down for a kiss. It was intimate, electric. With me, she refused to even hold hands on camera, claiming she wanted to “maintain boundaries.” She left the porch light on for Lucas when he worked late. She peeled oranges for him, removing every bit of the bitter pith because she knew he hated it. Every frame dripped with a passion I had never tasted. My chest ached, a physical tremor running through my heart. But the red “ON AIR” light was blinking, so I kept my face composed. When the clip ended, Sophia and Arthur were wiping away tears. I dug my fingernails into my palms, grounding myself so I wouldn’t interrupt their grief. The host turned the microphone to Arthur. “Arthur, it seems you’re quite moved. If you had to score Lucas and your current son-in-law, Ethan, out of ten, what would you give them?” The studio fell dead silent. It was a trap, obviously designed by the producers to stir up drama. Arthur didn’t hesitate. He held up the ’10’ paddle. “I give Lucas a ten.” Then, he turned to me and raised a ‘0’. A ripple of awkward murmurs tore through the audience. A producer off-camera prompted him, asking for the reason behind the zero. Arthur’s voice was cold steel. “Because he doesn’t even have the right to be compared to Lucas.” The audience gasped. The directors’ eyes lit up; they had their viral clip. Not a single person stepped in to smooth things over. I was a joke, left hanging out to dry in front of the entire country. I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and endured until the director yelled, “Cut!” Walking back to the cast house, I realized my palms were sticky. I had dug my nails in deep enough to draw blood. Sophia walked beside me, her voice light. “Don’t take it to heart. Dad just speaks his mind. He didn’t mean any harm.” My heart froze over. She didn’t say, “He was wrong.” She didn’t promise, “I won’t let him do that again.” She just excused it as “speaking his mind.” I pulled the corners of my mouth into a dry smile. “Yeah. He speaks his mind.” “So when I make soup, I’m performing. When I give you a massage, I’m showing off. Sophia, what exactly do I have to do to get a passing grade from you and your father?” Sophia fell silent. She wasn’t used to me pushing back. Since we married three years ago, I was always the one apologizing, the one smoothing things over. We walked a bit further until she suddenly jogged to the roadside and picked a small bouquet of wildflowers. She shoved them into my hands, a peace offering. “I remember you love Cornflowers. Let’s put them in a vase when we get back… don’t be mad, okay?” I looked down at the flowers in my hand. Blue Cornflowers. Specifically, the flowers Lucas loved most in the video clip we just watched. After all these years, her subconscious was still wired to Lucas’s preferences. I had told her at least ten times in three years that my favorite flowers were Sunflowers. She just never remembered. Those with a heart don’t need to be taught; those without one will never learn. I didn’t correct her. I let Sophia carry the blue Cornflowers back to the house. She stood by the window, humming a tune as she trimmed the stems, the unpleasantness of the studio already forgotten. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from Abby: I saw the show. Why do you let them humiliate you like that? If you want out… I’m always here. Two lines of text, and my nose stung. Even she couldn’t stand watching it. She felt my pain from a distance, yet my wife couldn’t remember my favorite flower while standing right next to me. I stared at the screen for a long time before turning it off. The front door burst open. My stepdaughter, Lily, was back from her segment. She screamed “Mommy!” and launched herself into Sophia’s arms, clutching her ragged teddy bear. She saw me sitting near the door first, but she didn’t even blink. She looked right through me. Three years. She had never called me “Dad.” She barely even called me “Ethan.” I was just furniture to her. “Cornflowers! Daddy’s favorite color!” Lily pointed at the vase, delight in her voice. Sophia’s hand froze mid-snip. She realized her mistake. She glanced at me, panic flickering in her eyes. When I didn’t say anything, she quietly took the vase down and hid it in a corner where I couldn’t see it. Lily pouted immediately. “Mom, why are you moving them? Put them back!” I felt a wave of exhaustion so heavy it nearly crushed me. I didn’t want to hear Sophia’s excuse. I stood up and walked out to the patio. The production crew had set up a fire pit for a barbecue dinner. Embers glowed in the twilight. I crouched down, warming my hands over the heat. Sophia, sensing the tension, came out carrying a few foil-wrapped sweet potatoes. “Let’s roast these together.” Habit kicked in. I didn’t want her to burn her fingers, so I took them from her. We sat side by side, the silence between us thick and heavy. Lily ran out, her tone filled with nostalgic wonder. “Daddy used to double-wrap the potatoes so they wouldn’t burn! That’s how they get super sweet!” My hand, in the middle of turning a potato, paused. I said nothing. She kept going. “And when they were done, Daddy would always break them in half and give me the sweet middle part first.” Sophia sensed the shift in my mood and whispered, “Lily, that’s enough.” Lily looked genuinely aggrieved. “But Daddy did do everything better! I’m not lying!” Pop. A spark from the fire pit snapped, landing squarely on the back of my hand. The skin turned red instantly. The physical sting drilled straight into my heart. My eyes burned. The accumulated grievances of three years—the insults, the comparisons, the invisibility—surged up like bile. My voice came out raspy. “But the person roasting them right now is me.” “And your dad isn’t coming back. Is he?” Lily wailed. She clutched that faded bear to her chest and sprinted into the house. Sophia looked at me in disbelief. “How could you say that? She’s just a child!” She started lecturing me, her voice rising, but my ears were ringing. I couldn’t stop the trembling in my voice. “A child? She’s twelve years old! Her father has been gone for five years!” “I can accept that she doesn’t like me. But you? Are you really going to watch her drag that bear around everywhere she goes, trapped in a shadow she can’t escape for the rest of her life?” “Sophia, are you loving her, or are you ruining her?!” My words were needles, popping the bubble of denial Sophia had lived in for half a decade. Her face flushed crimson. In her panic, she lashed out. “This is a matter between my daughter and me! I don’t need an outsider telling me what to do!” I froze. Sophia froze, too. It was their family matter. Then what was I? I nodded slowly, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Right… I’ve always been the outsider to you people.” Panic flooded Sophia’s face. She reached out, trying to grab my hand. “No, Ethan, wait, I didn’t mean it like that—” From inside the house, Lily’s screams tore through the air. I sidestepped Sophia’s touch. “Go comfort her.” Sophia looked torn. But the screaming got louder. “I don’t want him! Mom, kick him out!” “Daddy promised he’d bring us to the beach! Why is he here?!” “Make him leave! I want Daddy!” Sophia turned and ran inside. Soon, her soft, cooing voice joined the chaotic sobbing. I stood alone on the patio. The ocean was just a few hundred yards away. The night wind was wet and biting. God, it was cold. When we were selecting locations, I told them I hated the coast in winter. It aggravated my joints. But mother and daughter had been adamant. Now I knew why. This was where they had made memories with Lucas. This was their shrine. I was just the extra body. The fool trying to squeeze into a picture frame that had no space for him. The last tiny flicker of hope in my chest sputtered and died. I smiled. It was a smile of pure relief. I pulled out my phone and opened my chat with Abby. I typed three words: I want to leave. 计费点 The reply came instantly. I’ve been waiting for you to say that. Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything. I knew she could. But this relationship started with me, and it had to end with me. No, I typed back. I’ll handle the production team. I pocketed the phone and walked toward the editing bay. The lights were blazing; the editors were pulling an all-nighter. I stood in the doorway, watching the monitors. They were reviewing the solo interview segments. The crew saw me but didn’t stop me—drama is content, after all. I watched Sophia’s “Chemistry Test.” The producer asked: “What is Ethan’s favorite color?” Sophia sat in silence for a long time before guessing wrong. “What is Ethan’s favorite movie?” Sophia frowned, thinking hard, then shook her head apologetically. “What food does Ethan hate?” She listed three things. All of them were wrong. Those were things she hated. Finally, the producer, sensing the disaster, threw her a softball question. “Okay, then when is Ethan’s birthday?” This time, Sophia didn’t hesitate. She rattled off a date immediately. My stomach dropped like a stone. That was Lucas’s birthday. My birthday is in winter. She gave a date in the middle of summer. I stared at the screen, waiting for the anger. But it didn’t come. There was only a vast, hollow sadness. I didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore. I found the showrunner. When he heard I was terminating my contract, his face twisted. “Ethan, look, the contract is signed. We’re halfway through filming. If you walk now, it’s a breach. It’s huge damages.” I understood. Without the clown to be kicked around, where would their ratings come from? “Calculate the penalty,” I said flatly. “I’ll pay it. I have one condition: I leave tonight.” The director opened his mouth to argue, but his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and snapped to attention. His face went pale. “Yes… yes, ma’am. I understand. Absolutely.” He hung up, looking at me with a mix of shock and newfound fear. My phone buzzed. Abby. I know you hate confrontations. It’s handled. The car is waiting. I put a bag of roasted chestnuts in the back seat. See you soon. I unclipped my microphone and handed it to the director. “But… what if Sophia asks?” he stammered. I glanced back at the beach house. Mother and daughter were probably hugging right now, crying over Lucas, bonding over their shared grief. There had never been any room for me in that house. “She won’t care,” I said. I turned around and walked into the dark, endless night. I didn’t look back.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386670”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Shane Crawford paid a fortune for coffee beans that cost thousands of dollars a pound, all so he could hand-brew me a pour-over every single morning. Facing a global livestream, he told the cameras, “My wife isn’t a morning person. Only the scent of fresh coffee and a kiss can wake her.” The whole world thought he was madly in love with me. But I was staring at the small bouquet of daisies tucked into his suit pocket in the video as I sent him a text. 【Let’s get a divorce.】 … The news that the CEO of Crawford Corporation had bought out a top Panamanian estate’s coffee beans at a record-breaking price became the headline of the week. Shane’s and my names shot to the top of the trending topics. 【My husband can’t even be bothered to get me a glass of hot water when I’m on my period, but Shane Crawford makes his wife coffee every morning. Jealousy is a disease, and I’m terminal.】 【When are Shane and Sienna having a baby? I need to time my reincarnation just right.】 【What did Sienna Scott do to deserve a life this good?!】 Shane had never been shy about his grand displays of affection, and I had once been swept away by their intensity. But I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. The moment he got my text, he called. “Sweetheart, don’t do this. You can yell at me, hit me, whatever you want. But don’t you ever say that word. It would kill me.” “Shane, I’m serious.” “Tell me what you’re angry about. I’ll fix it,” Shane’s voice was impossibly gentle, as if he were incapable of anger. “I don’t like daisies.” He was silent for a few seconds. “That’s it? That’s what this is about?” “Yes. That’s it.” It took him a moment to remember why. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It was an oversight. Hannah must have picked it out when she was prepping everything, and I didn’t even notice. Don’t be angry. When I get home tonight, you can have me any way you want as compensation.” When did his assistant, “Ms. Vance,” become just “Hannah”? He probably didn’t even notice the slip himself. Years ago, a single daisy had bloomed in our garden. Shane hired a crew to excavate the entire garden, scorching the earth for seven days just to ensure not a single seed remained before replanting it with roses. How could a man that meticulous be so careless as to pin a bouquet of daisies to his chest? The winter garden outside my window was lifeless, just like my marriage, dying a slow death. A few minutes later, Hannah Vance’s call came through. “Mrs. Crawford, I’m so sorry. It was my mistake, and I’m terribly sorry for upsetting you. Please, don’t be angry with Mr. Crawford. I’ll be much more careful next time.” Her voice was a fragile whisper, as if a slight breeze could carry her away. I knew Shane was right there with her. “Next time?” I sneered. “What other disasters are you planning to cause next time?” “Sienna, that’s enough,” Shane’s voice cut in, sharp and protective. “The kid apologized. Be a little gracious.” Of course. He couldn’t bear to see her suffer the slightest grievance. A soft sob came through the phone. “It’s okay, I’m fine,” Hannah cried. “Sienna can say whatever she wants to me, as long as she’s not angry with you, Shane.” “Hey, stop crying. It’s nothing, really,” Shane soothed, his voice a low, gentle murmur. But to me, it was a razor’s edge, slicing a bloody gash across my heart. “Just leave me alone.” I couldn’t stand to listen to another second of it and tossed the phone aside. A moment later, two messages pinged. One was from Shane. 【You’ve yelled, you’ve let off some steam. Feeling better now? My dear wife is getting quite the temper. You’re making my life difficult. ;)】 I gave a bitter smile. So, raising my voice to the person he was comforting was considered “yelling.” The other was from Hannah. 【Oops, I forgot. Your mother jumped to her death in a field of daisies, didn’t she? Were they pretty? As pretty as this?】 She attached a photo. A vast field of white daisies stretched to the horizon. The world spun. I reached for a chair to steady myself but missed, collapsing to the floor and hitting my head on the wooden leg. My mother had jumped right in front of me. My father’s endless affairs had worn her down to nothing. Her final, desperate leap was the only thing that made him stop. “Love makes you pathetic. It makes you weak. Don’t become me.” Her last words still echoed in my nightmares. Shane and I were high school classmates. Girls flocked to him, but he only had eyes for me. I rejected him ten times, but each refusal only fueled his determination. Later, my father’s company was on the brink of collapse. He wanted me to marry into the Ashford family to secure funding. Shane had cornered me then, his eyes red. “Why him? Why a stranger you don’t even know, but not me?” The next day, Shane showed up with an investment contract for my father. “Sienna is a free woman,” he’d said. “You can’t force her to marry anyone.” The left side of his face was swollen that day. I knew his own father must have beaten him for that contract. I pressed an ice pack to his cheek and asked him if he wanted to marry me. He stared at me for a long time, and then he started to cry. After we married, he truly did spoil me rotten. He memorized all my likes and dislikes, planning elaborate surprises for every holiday. When I had nightmares, he would hold me tight, stroking my back until I fell back asleep. I used to think my mother was wrong. Love could make a withered rose bloom again. How could it make someone weak? It wasn’t until a few months ago, when he hired Hannah Vance as his assistant against my express wishes, that I understood. Shane was no different from any other man. He never understood my hostility toward a fresh-faced college graduate. But I knew from the moment I saw her photo that he would hire her. Because she looked exactly like I did in high school. The version of me that Shane could never have. After sending the text, Hannah posted on her social media. 【I’m such an idiot. I messed up big time, and the boss canceled my year-end bonus. I just want to hide somewhere and cry.】 Shane commented instantly. 【Everyone messes up. Take the afternoon off. Go have a good cry.】 I couldn’t tell if he was protecting my honor or just flaunting their relationship in my face. After lunch, I drove out to our spa villa in the suburbs. It was a wedding gift, but we’d moved out because the commute was too long. Many of my important documents were still stored there. Before I even reached the door, I heard the sound of splashing water. The villa had a small outdoor hot tub in the courtyard. We hadn’t been here all year. There shouldn’t have been any noise. “Feeling better? Still want to cry?” Shane’s voice, so painfully familiar, drifted through the wall. A chill ran down my spine. He’d brought her to our wedding home. “You owe me my bonus!” Hannah’s voice was no longer weak, but laced with a flirtatious pout. “You were a bad girl. You need to be punished so you learn your lesson. I told you not to provoke Sienna. That is my one and only rule.” “Then you should have sent a company-wide email about it! I feel so wronged.” “I know you do. Did you like that apartment we looked at last week? You should move in. It’ll be more convenient for you to get to work.” “Is that all I get? You’re just trying to buy me off?” “Then what do you want?” Hannah’s voice dropped to a breathy whisper. I couldn’t hear the words. I only heard the sound of water sloshing violently from the tub. “Hmph. I’ll make you cry out for a different reason,” Shane’s voice was hoarse and low, but every word was perfectly clear. I knew Hannah was confident in their relationship to have taunted me with the daisies. But hearing it for myself, right outside the door… the agony was a physical blow. I pressed my hand to my mouth to keep from being sick and dragged my leaden body back to the car. My mother was right. Love really does make you weak. But I would not become her. I took several deep breaths and called Shane. “Sienna, baby, what’s wrong?” He sounded a little breathless. “Where are you?” “In a meeting with a client.” “I can’t find one of the old contracts. I was wondering if it might be at the spa villa…” I tested. “No way, it wouldn’t be there. I remember moving all the important documents to the house. Just look again.” “Are you sure? I think I’ll go check anyway.” “Don’t go—” His voice shot up an octave. “I mean, it’s not safe for you to drive all that way alone. I’ll go with you this weekend, okay?” “Forget it. It’s not urgent. Get back to your work.” I hung up, my hand numb. A message from Hannah arrived instantly. 【So you check up on him too? Let me give you a status report.】 She sent a photo. On a nightstand, a box of condoms was nearly empty. Bile rose in my throat. The man who swore he would cherish me for a lifetime was utterly filthy. I didn’t go home. I drove to an event production company. Next month, they would be handling the 20th-anniversary celebration for Crawford Corp. To liven things up, Shane was scheduled to perform a televised underwater escape act with a professional magician. “Can I be the one in the tank? I want to give my husband a surprise.” “Mrs. Crawford, without proper training, it’s very risky.” The company was afraid of an accident and hesitated. “A hundred thousand dollars for my training. I’ll be here every day.” “Well, in that case… You and Mr. Crawford are truly a match made in heaven. So romantic.” “Please keep it a secret,” I said, forcing a smile at their praise. Since he loved playing the doting husband for an audience, I would tear up his script myself. I would disappear from the world, right before his very eyes. When Shane got home that night, I was still reviewing the materials from the production company. “Sweetheart, I got held up at the client’s. I’m so sorry I’m late.” “What happened to your forehead? Are you hurt?” He leaned in, tilting my face to inspect the scrape. As he did, his shirt collar gaped open, revealing a faint red mark on his collarbone. I snapped my laptop shut and pushed him away in disgust. “Still angry?” He pulled out a square jewelry box and opened it. Inside lay a magnificent emerald necklace worth half a million dollars. “I’ve had my eye on this for a while. It’s perfect for you. Do you like it?” I laughed at the absurdity. I never thought I’d sink so low. He buys Hannah an apartment and immediately “compensates” me with a necklace. How pathetic. He actually thought he could balance the scales between his wife and his mistress. I pushed the box away. “I don’t like it.” “Can’t you just be agreeable for once? You’re impossible to please. Harder to handle than any of my clients.” Shane finally lost his patience and slammed the bathroom door. He didn’t know that I used to be easy to please because I never wanted to argue with him. Now, I was impossible because I had no intention of ever forgiving him. In the weeks leading up to the gala, I became increasingly busy. I saw less and less of Shane. But someone else was keeping me updated on his schedule. 【He introduced me to his friends today. We all went out for drinks. It was fun. Why do you think they dislike you so much?】 【Ever done it in a car on a mountain top? He’s an animal.】 【Guess where I am? Your old high school track. I can barely walk.】 【This is boring. You never reply. Are you just going to let me walk all over you? How does it feel to be abandoned? Feel like killing yourself yet?】 I ignored Hannah. Shane’s taste was truly appalling. I dialed the most recent number in my call log. “How is he?” I asked in a low voice. “Is the old man still alive? Did he sign?” “Mr. Scott has agreed to transfer all his company shares to you,” the voice on the other end replied. Satisfied, I hung up, a bit of the weight lifting from my chest. I opened a drawer and scanned the contents—contracts, documents, plane tickets—my eyes finally landing on a set of divorce papers. On the day of the gala, I dressed in simple, casual clothes for convenience. Hannah, however, arrived in a stunning, form-fitting silver gown that showcased her figure perfectly. But the real showstopper was the emerald necklace she wore. The very same one I had rejected. Shane had publicly stated the necklace was a gift for his beloved wife. Now, seeing it on his assistant, the crowd began to whisper. Shane’s eyes flickered over the necklace, and he said to Hannah, “Take it off.” Then he saw me in my plain clothes, and his brow furrowed. “Why are you dressed like that? Where’s your sense of occasion?” “A dog ate it.” In the dressing room, Hannah deliberately dangled the necklace in front of me. “This was supposed to be yours, but it’s mine now. Don’t worry, I’ll take everything that belongs to you, piece by piece.” I didn’t waste a second. I slapped her across the face. “Go back to digging through the trash, little bitch.” The theater was packed. Every Crawford Corp employee, every invited client and media member, filled the seats to capacity. When it was time for the highly anticipated magic act, the applause was deafening. Shane stood center stage, bathed in a single spotlight. When he asked the audience to welcome his partner, a look of confusion crossed his face. “Sweetheart? What are you doing up here?” I bowed graciously to the audience. Whispers erupted from the front rows. “Is that his wife?” “A husband and wife act? Are they trying to kill us with their cuteness?” I took Shane’s cold hand. “This is my surprise for you. Are you ready?” As the audience realized who I was, the cheers grew even louder. Shane, ever the showman, recovered quickly. He pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. “Sweetheart, you’re amazing. I’m completely blown away.” “Oh, the best is yet to come.” I smiled and held out my hands, signaling for him to apply the handcuffs. “Are you sure about this?” he whispered, his hands trembling. “Don’t worry. I won’t mess it up.” He secured my hands and lifted me gently into the water tank. I took a deep breath as the cold water enveloped me. A large cloth was draped over the glass tank. The sounds from outside were distorted, but I could faintly hear Shane leading the countdown. “30, 29, 28… 10, 9, 8…” The countdown ended. A spotlight hit the empty escape tank on the other side of the stage. The entire audience held its breath. Suddenly, a scream erupted from the front row. Shane turned, confused. He saw that while the figure in the escape tank was gone, the original tank was now clouded with a spreading pool of crimson. “Sienna! Sienna!” Shane was shaking, his eyes darting to the audience where I was supposed to have reappeared. The spotlight followed his gaze. The seat was empty. “Sienna! Where are you? Don’t scare me like this!” “Somebody! Help!” His panicked shouts boomed through the speakers, and the entire venue descended into chaos. “Let’s go. Take me to the airport.” I sat in the back of a Maybach parked behind the theater, toweling my wet hair as I watched a livestream of the event on a new phone. The scene was pure mayhem. Stagehands swarmed the stage. The main camera, pointed right at the chaos, had been forgotten. I watched Shane’s colorless, horrified face on the small screen. He was frantically directing people to search for me while fumbling for his phone to call me. Suddenly, he froze. The phone slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor. He had seen it. A faint light glowed from within the blood-red tank. It was my phone, which I had “dropped.” The sight of it sent him into a greater panic. He yelled for someone to retrieve it. The production crew told him they’d checked the secret passage. I had simply vanished into thin air. “You told me this was perfectly safe! That it was foolproof!” he roared, his voice cracking. “We don’t know what happened! Mrs. Crawford trained with us every day. We ran over a dozen rehearsals without a single issue. She kept saying the surprise had to be perfect.” Shane’s eyes turned red. “Find her!” he screamed at the crew. “I don’t care if you have to tear this theater apart, find my wife!” When they handed him my phone, he used his own birthday to unlock the screen. He stood on stage, frantically scrolling, desperate for a clue. But it was no use. I had wiped every contact, every call log. The SIM card was deactivated. The only thing he could find was the photo gallery. Filled with screenshots of every single message Hannah had ever sent me. As he scrolled, his face grew darker and darker. He was so engrossed that he didn’t see the edge of the stage, stumbling and falling into the orchestra pit below. Hannah rushed to his side, but the look in his eyes made her recoil in terror. “It was you,” he snarled, a feral light I had never seen before in his eyes. “You pushed her to this. How dare you?” “If anything happens to Sienna, I will end you!” He shoved Hannah to the ground and scrambled back onto the stage. “Shane, no! It’s dangerous!” Hannah screamed, seeing him climb onto the water tank, ready to jump in. She grabbed his legs, trying to hold him back. “Don’t… touch me,” he hissed, his voice ragged with hysteria. “I have to know where she went.” He kicked out violently, catching her in the chest. She collapsed, gasping in pain. With a huge splash, Shane plunged into the two-meter-deep tank, thrashing in the bloody water. The theater was a cacophony of screams, shouts, and sobs. Soon, the wail of sirens filled the livestream. When the police led Shane away, his face was streaked with tears. “Let me go! I have to find my wife! She could be in danger…” So much noise. So very, very loud.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386686”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A week before my wedding, my fiancé Johnny’s late wife’s sister—the one with Storm Syndrome—ran my car off the road, pinning it against the bridge guardrail. She rammed me eighteen times at seventy-five miles an hour. When Johnny arrived with the ambulance, I was being pulled from a heap of twisted metal. But he ignored me. He wrenched open the door of the modified Hummer—a vehicle that had barely lost its bumper—and pulled a trembling Nina into his arms. “Dr. Croft, she’s in bad shape,” one of the paramedics said, gesturing to me. “We need to get her to the hospital now.” Johnny blocked my stretcher, his eyes giving me a quick, dismissive scan. “There’s not a drop of blood on her. It’s just superficial. Nina has Storm Syndrome, and the rain’s getting worse. Her condition is more critical. Take her first.” As they left me behind, I curled into a ball, my fingers weakly clutching at Johnny’s coat. He frowned, prying my hand away. “Nina didn’t mean to hit you. She was having an episode. You’re a doctor, Andrea. You should have some compassion for a patient.” Then, he pulled a legal waiver from his pocket, took my limp hand, and forced my signature onto the paper. “The next ambulance will be here soon,” he said. “Just hang on.” 1 I never made it to the next ambulance. When I opened my eyes again, I was floating in the air. The cold rain soaked the body that lay abandoned below, and I reached out, wanting to hug myself for warmth, but my arms passed straight through. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. So, I was dead. Johnny was right about one thing: I was a doctor. I knew exactly what eighteen impacts at seventy-five miles per hour meant. It meant Nina never intended for me to survive. And yet he, the renowned Chief of Internal Medicine at Bridgewater General, could determine with a single glance that I had nothing more than a few scratches. I should have known better than to hold on to any hope. When it came to Nina, nothing else mattered. Not even my life. In the distance, the wail of another siren grew closer. Paramedics leaped from the vehicle, sprinting through the downpour towards me. I watched as they loaded my body, limp as a ragdoll, onto a stretcher. I heard their frantic shouts, the constant injections of epinephrine, the rhythmic whine and shock of the defibrillator. None of it could stop the flat line on the heart monitor. “Tell dispatch to clear a path!” the lead paramedic yelled. “Notify the hospital to prep for surgery! Patient is critical!” But the nurse’s three calls to the hospital were all rejected. Her eyes reddened with fury and frustration. “What the hell? Isn’t Dr. Vance his fiancée? How can he divert all hospital resources to a woman who doesn’t even have a scratch on her?” Her voice broke with a sob. “Dr. Vance is dying.” A heavy silence fell over the ambulance crew. They all knew. At the Croft family’s hospital, a private, high-end suite was permanently reserved for Nina. She was the sister of Johnny’s late wife. She’d supposedly watched her sister get brutally murdered during a storm while trying to save her, and ever since, she’d suffered from severe Storm Syndrome. Every time it rained, she would have a complete breakdown, and only Johnny’s presence could calm her. As his fiancée, I had been forced to reschedule our wedding ten times because of Nina’s “episodes.” I had finally snapped. “She has an ‘episode’ if it drizzles, another one if there’s a clap of thunder. Are you sure she really sees you as just a brother-in-law?” The sting of Johnny’s slap surprised even him. He looked away, his face rigid. “If you can’t accept Nina, then this marriage isn’t set in stone.” I stared at him, a sharp pain piercing my heart. I tilted my head back, fighting it, but tears streamed down my face anyway. After three days of his cold shoulder, I caved. I had planned a surprise for him, a way to make up. But on my way to the hospital to find him, Nina had rammed my car until I was dead. My memories as a soul were fragmented, flickering. I felt like I’d forgotten something important. But my spirit was already drifting uncontrollably, pulled toward Johnny. In the VIP suite, the room was so crowded with white coats you could hardly see the floor. “Dr. Croft, the tests show Miss Nina is perfectly fine. You can rest assured,” a specialist reported. But even with a room full of experts guaranteeing her safety, Nina clung to Johnny, her eyes red and puffy as she trembled. “Johnny… the rain is so loud. There are bad people out there… I’m scared…” Just as Johnny was about to reply, his phone rang. It was my colleague from the surgical department. The moment Nina saw the caller ID, she shrieked, snatched the phone, and smashed it against the floor. “Bad people! Andrea is a bad person! She wants to kill me! Help me, Johnny, save me!” Forgetting the phone completely, Johnny wrapped his arms around the hysterical girl, his heart aching for her. “Shh, Nina, it’s okay. Andrea won’t come here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Nina buried her face in his chest, her arms tightening around his neck as she sobbed and laughed. “Don’t leave me, Johnny. Stay with me forever. You’re mine, only mine. Andrea is trying to steal you. She’s evil. She should just die…” “Alright,” he murmured, patting her back, soothing her until she cried herself to sleep. “She’s evil. She can die.” Back in his office, he pulled the shattered phone from his pocket, the screen cracked and dark. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. He was about to use his desk phone to ask about me when a nurse rushed in. “Dr. Croft, we have an emergency surgery. A car crash victim, multiple organ ruptures. They need you immediately.” Johnny started to stand, then paused. “What’s the weather forecast?” he asked. The nurse checked her phone. “Rain all day. Looks like it’ll last for the next two days.” He nodded, settling back into his chair. “Have Dr. Peterson take it. Tell them I have a patient here I can’t leave. And cancel all my appointments for the next two days.” “But, sir,” the nurse hesitated, speaking softly, “you’re the only one here who has successfully performed this procedure.” Johnny’s voice turned to ice. “Can this hospital not function without me? Now get out. For the next two days, don’t bother me with anything or anyone unless it concerns Nina.” The nurse wanted to say more, but she left, defeated. I huddled in the corner, blinking. Something warm trickled from my eyes. It felt like blood, or maybe tears. Trapped in the crushed car, all I could think was: Johnny, this wedding you never wanted… just like you wished, it’s not happening anymore. For the next two days, Johnny stayed by Nina’s side twenty-four-seven, catering to her every whim, coddling her endlessly. In the quiet moments of the night, he would sometimes pull out his dead phone and press the useless power button. I knew what he was thinking. I, who had loved him more than life itself, had never gone two days without contacting him. Even during our worst fights, I was always the one to apologize within hours. This loss of control was making him uneasy. He rubbed his temples, a familiar headache building. He opened his desk drawer, but the custom migraine medication I’d learned to make for him from an old herbalist was gone. He immediately buzzed the nurse’s station. “Has anyone been looking for me?” he asked, his voice tight with irritation. “You canceled all your appointments, sir. No one has come by.” He had given the order himself, but an inexplicable frustration welled up inside him, heavy and suffocating. He slammed the phone down. Shoving the dead device back into the drawer, he slammed it shut. Walking past the nurse’s station later, he paused. He borrowed a nurse’s phone and sent me a text. “Andrea, there’s a limit to this drama. You got bumped a few times, you didn’t even bleed. How dare you play hard to get with me? If you’ve got the guts, then never contact me again.” I floated beside him, a bitter smile on my face. It was my own desperate love that had made him so confident, so certain I could never leave him. But this time, I really was gone for good. That afternoon, the sky cleared. Nina was back to her normal self, her eyes welling with tears as she played the victim. “Johnny, I swear I didn’t know I would lose control and hit Andrea’s car. I should go apologize to her. I’ll do anything she wants, as long as she forgives me.” “It’s fine,” Johnny said, his mind elsewhere. “It looked worse than it was. Not a scratch on you, so she’s probably fine too. She’ll understand it wasn’t your fault.” “But… what if she calls the police?” Johnny smiled, stroking her hair. “Don’t worry. I already had her sign a waiver. It’s over. You have nothing to do with it.” Nina beamed, rubbing her cheek against his hand like a cat, her eyes full of adoration. “I knew you’d take care of me, Johnny.” Her intense gaze seemed to burn him. He snatched his hand back. “Nina, I’m marrying Andrea soon. You shouldn’t call me by my first name like that anymore. You’re still my sister-in-law. Call me Johnny. Andrea will be your sister. We’ll both take care of you.” Nina bit her lip, a flash of malice in her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a mask of sweet obedience. As Johnny left the room, he overheard two nurses talking. “Dr. Croft is so devoted to his fiancée. She gets into a little fender-bender and he mobilizes the whole hospital for her. They’re such a perfect couple.” “I know, right? I heard a car crash victim was brought in two days ago, organs completely shredded. Didn’t even have anyone to sign the paperwork for the body. It just goes to show, some people have all the luck.” Johnny frowned, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. “The patient in that room,” he said, his voice strained, “is not my fiancée.” He paused, then added, “My fiancée is Dr. Andrea Vance, from Surgery.” He froze, surprised by his own words. He was Johnny Croft, a man who had never cared for gossip and never bothered to explain himself. Because of that, everyone in the hospital—except for a few colleagues in our respective departments—thought I was just some pathetic, shameless woman clinging to him. His admirers had given me cruel nicknames, thrown hot soup on me. They once cornered me in an empty restroom and dumped a bucket of live frogs over my head, laughing at my screams. They called me a shameless gold-digger reaching for the stars. Countless times, I had begged Johnny to just say something, to clarify our relationship. He always brushed me off. “It’s just words, Andrea. You’re not going to melt. Stop being so dramatic.” But when a new intern had offhandedly remarked that Nina’s Storm Syndrome seemed “a little fake,” that intern vanished from Bridgewater the next day. That’s when I learned that he knew how to protect someone. It just wasn’t me. I clutched at my empty chest, laughing silently until tears streamed down my face. How ironic. The public acknowledgment I had craved my entire relationship, I received so easily in death. Johnny ignored the nurses’ shocked faces, pushing down the rising panic in his chest as he hurried toward his office. He needed to confirm something. Urgently. He nearly collided with Dr. Peterson at the door. “Johnny, you look like you’re in a hurry. Off to see Dr. Vance, I presume?” Johnny froze for a second. Peterson’s words lifted the crushing weight from his heart. His expression hardened into a sneer. “You were the one who took her case?” Dr. Peterson nodded, sighing. “It’s been a while. You should probably go deal with it.” “Deal with what? The fact that she’s milking this for all it’s worth?” Johnny scoffed. “I’ve given her too much slack. It was a minor accident. Nina, who’s a hundred times more fragile, is perfectly fine. Andrea’s built like an ox and she’s pretending to be on her deathbed? She made Nina cry with guilt, and now she has the nerve to send you here to plead her case?” Dr. Peterson stared, dumbfounded. It took him a moment to process what Johnny was saying. A storm of fury gathered in his eyes. He grabbed Johnny by the collar. “I thought you were just quiet, a man of few words. I assumed you at least had a shred of human decency. I never realized you were such a monster.” “You’re an animal, Croft. Andrea falling for you was the worst luck of her life.” “Do you have any idea what happened in that crash? Do you know that Andrea is already…” Johnny shoved him away, disgusted. “Already what? Don’t tell me you’re going to say she’s dead?” Dr. Peterson stood frozen. Seeing his reaction, Johnny’s face twisted into a knowing, sarcastic smirk. “She’d better be. If she thinks pulling a cheap stunt like this will stir up drama and upset Nina, then I hope her wish comes true.” He straightened his collar. “Go tell her she made a mistake and she needs to face the consequences. If I don’t see her apologizing to Nina by tomorrow, the wedding is off.” With that, he turned and left, shattered phone in hand. Dr. Peterson stood behind him, his face pale with rage, and muttered, “Good. A monster like you never deserved a woman like Andrea anyway.” Fuming, Johnny dropped his phone at a repair shop, paid triple the price for a one-hour fix, and went home. “Andrea…” The apartment was silent. No familiar aroma of dinner cooking, no gentle voice answering him. A chilling emptiness wrapped around him as he stood in the doorway. Without even taking off his shoes, he bolted for the bedroom. He saw all my clothes, my skincare products, everything exactly where it should be. Only then did he slump to the floor, a wave of relief washing over him. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips—that familiar, confident smirk I knew so well. He was so sure of my love for him, so certain I would never, ever leave. He pulled out his newly repaired phone and, as if bestowing a great favor, sent me a text. “You’re the one who’s been lying and playing dead, Andrea. Come home and apologize properly, and I’ll forgive you.” The message was met with silence. His face hardened. He sent another. “Reply in thirty minutes, or the wedding is canceled.” Thirty minutes passed. An hour. The silence in the apartment felt thick, heavy, like waterlogged cotton, pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. Just when I thought his patience had finally run out, he stood up, opened the fridge, and started cooking. Half an hour later, three of my favorite dishes were on the table. He took a picture and sent it to me. “I told you I had to help Nina first because she was having an episode. You were barely touched, but she was terrified. Can’t you see what’s more important?” He took a deep breath, as if making a monumental concession. “You don’t have to apologize this time. But don’t let it happen again. We’re about to be married, Andrea. Stop being so childish. Come home. We’ll eat, and then we’ll go get the marriage license.” The moment he sent the text, a call came through. It was Nina, her voice a piercing shriek. “Johnny, Andrea’s trying to kill me! Get away! Help! Aaaah!” When Johnny burst into the hospital room, it was in chaos. A speaker on the nightstand was playing the white noise of a rainstorm on a loop. Nina was huddled in a corner, screaming hysterically anytime someone got near. Johnny rushed over, gathering her into his arms, his heart aching. “Nina, don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Her face was ashen, streaked with tears. “Andrea called me a whore, a homewrecker! She said my sister deserved to die! She sent me this audio, she said if I don’t stay away from you, she’ll make sure I die just like my sister did, tortured and…” “Johnny, I’m so scared! Am I a homewrecker? Are you going to leave me, just like my sister did?” I stared at Nina, stunned by the sheer artistry of her performance. She was the one who had killed me, and now, after my death, she was dragging my name through the mud. I could still see her eyes through the shattered windshield as she slammed the accelerator—colder and more venomous than a snake’s. She wasn’t having an episode. She was perfectly lucid. She wanted me dead. I looked at Johnny, praying that our three years together meant something, that even if he never chose me, he at least knew I wasn’t capable of such cruelty. But I had forgotten. When it came to Nina, I was worth nothing. Johnny’s face was terrifyingly calm. He turned off the white noise and stared at the phone number the text had supposedly come from—my number. His eyes grew colder and colder. He gently lifted Nina, placed her on the bed, and wiped away her tears with a tenderness I had never seen. “You’re not the homewrecker, Nina,” he said softly. “Andrea is.” With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the custom diamond ring we’d chosen together, the one meant to symbolize our ‘one true love,’ the one we were supposed to exchange at our wedding in three days. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slipped it onto Nina’s ring finger. “From now on,” he declared, “you will be my bride.” Nina tried to hide her triumphant glee, feigning panic. “But… Andrea is your fiancée. She’s been waiting to marry you. If I wear her ring, won’t she hate me even more?” “She dares?” Johnny sneered. “If she has the audacity to insult your sister and threaten you, then she’d better be prepared for the consequences.” “Not only am I not marrying her, I’m going to have her blacklisted from the medical community. A person as vile as her doesn’t deserve to wear that white coat.” He immediately pulled out his phone. He sent me one last ultimatum. “You have five minutes to get here and kneel before Nina to apologize.” When no reply came, Johnny’s patience finally snapped. A cruel smile spread across his face. The man who had always disdained using his power and influence was, for Nina, now pulling every string he had. Bypassing all official channels, he used his authority as the heir to the Croft Corporation to issue a nationwide industry ban against me. My entire life’s work—countless sleepless nights, years of relentless effort to earn the career I loved more than anything—was gone. Erased by a single, careless command. Nina finally broke into a radiant smile, nestling contentedly into his arms. “I knew you’d always choose me, Johnny.” Johnny didn’t answer. His hands were clenched around his phone, his face a dark mask as he stared at the screen. He thought this would be enough to force me out of hiding. He didn’t know. I was never coming back. I looked at my translucent hands, fading in the wind. I tried to laugh, but tears flowed like a broken dam, unstoppable. In the end, I had lost my life, my reputation, and now I was nothing but a lost soul, a ghost unable to even escape his orbit. How pathetic. The hospital room was filled with celebration. Everyone was applauding this perfect resolution, offering their congratulations. But then, the door flew open, and a figure stormed in. Before anyone could react, a sharp crack echoed through the room as a hand struck Johnny’s face. “Andrea is already dead! Why won’t you just leave her alone?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386702”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My cousin, Chloe, wants to go to France to study ballet. My mom asked me for $15,000. I sent her a screenshot of my bank account balance—$15,000.20, not a penny more. Five seconds later, her reply popped up: “Keep $500 for living expenses, send the rest over.” 1 Before my finger even touched the screen, another message from Mom popped up: “By the way, when are you coming back? I’ll make that coconut chicken soup you like.” “My CD matures next month, I’ll pay you back every cent then.” Go home? Actually, I went home yesterday. A classmate got married and had the reception in our hometown. I specifically mentioned this to my mom last week, saying I’d stay the night after the wedding and head back to D.C. the next morning. She agreed enthusiastically on the phone, promising to leave the door unlocked. But when I got to the door, I found it deadbolted from the inside. Just as I was about to knock, Mom’s voice drifted out: “I’ll ask your sister for the money tonight when she gets off work. You just go ahead and sign up for that ballet program, don’t worry.” “Auntie, will Nina agree? It’s $15,000 after all. And you haven’t paid back the other money you borrowed.” “Why wouldn’t she? She’s soft-hearted.” Mom chuckled lightly, a hint of disdain in her voice. “I mean, she’s average-looking and has a bad temper. If she wasn’t making $60k a year now, do you think I’d bother coddling her?” Chloe asked in a cutesy, spoiled voice, “Is that why you bought her an iPhone right after graduation and gave her money?” Mom’s voice suddenly rose: “Silly girl! If I hadn’t waited on her hand and foot after graduation, coaxing her, do you think she would have majored in Computer Science? Remember Mrs. Miller’s son? He went to a state school and only makes $40k. Have you calculated how much all your expenses since graduation add up to?” Mom’s tone was filled with indulgence: “You! My retirement savings are almost gone because of you. If I hadn’t had the foresight to make Nina subsidize the bulk of it, what kind of good life would you have?” Chloe cheered, “Auntie, I knew you loved me more than my own mom! Come with me to New York this time, I’ll take you out for fun!” “You got it! My little sweetie is the best!” The wine I drank at the wedding churned in my stomach. I wanted to throw up but couldn’t. My first reaction was actually to thank myself for never paying to fix this thin, non-soundproof door. I drove back to D.C. overnight. 2 Mom kept texting nonstop, so I just turned off my phone and slept. I went to the office early the next morning. In this world, the only person who won’t betray you is yourself. When it rains, it pours. Around 10:30 AM, my stomach started hurting again. My phone vibrated. Mom’s WeChat messages were like a death warrant. “Why aren’t you replying? What are you doing?” “When can you send that $15,000 we talked about yesterday?” … I replied: “Stomach hurts, talk later.” “Why does your stomach hurt again? I tell you to cook at home, but you insist on eating takeout. Of course your stomach hurts!” I didn’t bother replying. I work overtime every day, where would I find time to cook??? Her fake concern, requiring zero effort while earning her the reputation of a caring mother, was honestly laughable. I can only blame my past self for being too stupid to see through these tricks. “Why are you so pale?” Sarah brought over a coffee and handed it to me. “Did you eat something bad?” I opened my mouth but was in too much pain to speak, so I just waved my hand. She grabbed me: “Don’t be a hero. I’m taking you to the hospital.” The lights in the ER were blinding. When the nurse handed me the test results, her eyes held a trace of pity: “Considering potential malignancy, we recommend further pathological examination.” Staring at those words on the report, life suddenly felt absurd. Just last night I was calculating that a few more years at this company would give me enough for a down payment to move out of my cramped rental. I wouldn’t give my mom another cent. I was going to travel abroad, eat delicious food, buy clothes I liked. For the rest of my life, I would only love myself. But now, fate had blindsided me with a sledgehammer. 3 It was late at night when I got home. Sarah comforted me the whole time and helped me apply for a day of sick leave, telling me to rest well before discussing next steps. My mind was a mess, and of course, Mom called again. I declined it: “Busy.” “Busy with what? Did you take what I said seriously? Your sister has to pay tuition the day after tomorrow. Any later and it’ll be too late.” “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely pay you back.” Ha. I’d sooner believe the sun rises in the west than believe she’d pay me back. Over the years, the empty promises she’s made could fill the entire living room. “I’ll buy you a new backpack when your dad gets paid.” “After Chloe’s recital, I’ll buy you a dress with the leftover money.” “Mom will keep your red envelope money safe, and add a little more when I give it back.” … In the end, it all turned into nothing. 4 I took a deep breath and called her: “Mom, I really want to ask you, do you genuinely see me as your daughter? I’ve always been curious, why have you disliked me since I was little?” Mom sounded confused: “Why ask that all of a sudden? You’re overthinking things again. Stop talking nonsense, when will the money…” Tears streamed down my face. I took a picture of the medical report and sent it: “I’m sick. I need this money for treatment. You guys figure something else out. If you have any money, lend me some too.” Mom immediately sent a voice message: “Don’t joke around, Nina. Don’t copy those trashy pranks online, joking about being sick is bad luck. Your sister is so close, just one last step. After this advanced course, she’ll definitely become a principal dancer! When she makes money, she won’t forget you…” I suddenly couldn’t hold it in anymore. I grabbed the phone and said weakly: “Do I owe you anything? If she wants money, tell her to sell her blood or a kidney!! Don’t come to me!” After sending that, I turned off my phone. I hid under the covers and cried my heart out. Then I told myself silently, that’s it. That was the last time I’d shed tears for people who aren’t worth it. 5 Chloe is my aunt’s daughter. My aunt and my mom were both small-town overachievers who tested into a university in Shanghai together. But their fates diverged wildly. After graduation, Mom went back to our hometown and married my dad, living a small-town life. Auntie stayed in Shanghai and married a construction boss. Around the millennium, my uncle’s monthly income was more than my parents could save in years. Every time Mom saw Auntie’s glamorous life, her eyes revealed her unwillingness to accept her lot. Auntie was well-off and willing to spend money on Chloe. Chloe excelled at piano, dance, and calligraphy from a young age, praised by adults wherever she went. During New Year’s, Mom would only buy me new clothes if I got straight A’s. But Chloe was already wearing Burberry. If not for the accident that happened to her family later, I probably would have remained just a distant relative to her, with little interaction.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386718”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I saw the fragile “White Lotus” being cornered by thugs in the alleyway, I didn’t scream. I didn’t call 911. I pulled out my phone and started recording. A stream of floating text—comments from some interdimensional live stream—scrolled across my vision: [Yes! The hero is about to swoop in! Redemption arc, let’s go!] [Oh no, it’s the evil villainess first. She’s filming it? The heroine is doomed…] [Chill, guys. This is just building tension. The more arrogant the villain, the harder the slap in the face later!] [Waiting for the karma.] [Same.] Oh. So, I’m the evil villainess. I smirked, a wicked glint in my eye, and turned to the six massive bodyguards behind me. “Drag them somewhere with no cameras. Rough them up. Just don’t kill them.” 01 Hearing my order, the floating comments exploded: [WTF? She’s a psychopath! Villainess, be a human for once!] [Hero! Where are you? Save our precious baby!] [Am I the only one who finds this spicy? Girl-on-girl rivalry is getting intense!] The thugs stopped what they were doing and looked back at me. Then their eyes widened as they saw the wall of muscle standing behind me. The leader, a guy with bleached blond hair, looked from the skinny, trembling Sophie Hayes to my personal army. He let out a greasy laugh. “Hey, gorgeous. What’s your beef with this little girl? You bring this much firepower, she might break.” His two lackeys laughed along. “Besides, first come, first served, right?” Sophie was pinned against the wall by the blonde guy. She had been cursing and scratching a second ago, but now she was frozen. She looked at me with pure terror. Tears swirled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Like a stubborn little lamb waiting for the slaughter. I remembered the Villain’s Handbook: Don’t talk too much. “Take them.” My bodyguards moved like a dark tide. They snatched the three thugs up like they were baby chickens and dragged them deeper into the shadows of the alley. The thugs panicked, legs flailing. “Whoa, whoa! What the hell!” “Check your eyes, man! I’m a dude!” “That’s not a fair fight! Let go!” My guards, trained professionals, clamped hands over their mouths and chuckled darkly. “Heh, we love dudes.” The alley fell silent. Only the wind whistled through, messing up Sophie’s hair. The floating comments were stunned. The screen was filled with [WTF]. Sophie was stunned, too. 02 Sophie’s school uniform was torn, exposing a shoulder so thin it looked brittle. Her face was scraped, and her nose was bleeding. She slumped to the ground, looking at me blankly. I took off my blazer and handed it to her. “Put this on.” She took it, and suddenly, the tears she’d been holding back started falling. Plip, plop. Her body shook uncontrollably. It was the tremors of surviving a disaster. I knew that shaking well. “Vivian… thank you.” She lowered her head, exposing her delicate neck, shoulders heaving with sobs. Even under the jacket, her shoulder blades poked out sharply. I reached out, wanting to pat her shoulder. But I really hate physical contact. So, I dropped my hand. The comments returned: [Boohoo, baby don’t cry, my heart is breaking.] [No, cry harder! The hero will be here any second!] [Tears are a woman’s best weapon.] Bunch of idiots. I lowered my eyes and organized my thoughts. This world was a classic cliché romance novel. The heroine, Sophie Hayes, was the fragile White Lotus—born to suffer, destined to be tough. The hero, Gavin Pierce, was the savior CEO type. He exists to save her from the fires of hell. And I, Vivian Sterling, am the designated Villainess. The calamity creator. The professional stumbling block. Because of my meddling, the hero would misunderstand the heroine, she’d suffer miscarriages and trauma, and he’d eventually grovel for forgiveness. They’d get a Happily Ever After. My ending? Bankruptcy, family ruin, and a permanent room in a psych ward. Okay, cool. So the guy takes zero losses, right? 03 Thinking of this, I handed my phone to Sophie. “I recorded the evidence. Do you want to—” Before I could finish, a low roar filled with rage erupted behind me. “Vivian Sterling!” Gritting teeth and all. I raised an eyebrow and turned to face Gavin Pierce. The Hero had arrived. The comments gave him a grand welcome: [OMG! The School King is here! So handsome, his legs are longer than my life expectancy!] [I want to slide down his nose bridge~] [I want to swim in his abs~] [Can’t wait to see him comfort our baby!] These people need therapy. I frowned at the floating text. Gavin interpreted my expression as jealousy that Sophie was getting his attention. He shoved me aside and grabbed Sophie by the shoulders. “Sophie, are you okay? What did she do to you?” Before Sophie could answer, he saw the video playing on my phone screen. On screen, the thugs were tearing at Sophie’s clothes, laughing lewdly. “Look at this, fresh meat! Let big brother teach you a lesson!” Sophie was struggling and screaming: “You perverts! The police station is right there! You touch me, and you’ll have a criminal record! You’ll never get a government job!” The thug slapped her. “I’m already a lowlife, who cares about a government job!” … I sighed internally. The brain circuitry of a straight-A student like Sophie was truly unique. Logically sound, but weird. Sophie clutched my jacket with both hands, biting her lip, her big round eyes darting glances at me. Gavin’s eyes turned red with rage. He tried to snatch my phone, but I dodged. “What are you doing? Robbery in broad daylight? Aren’t you afraid of getting a criminal record?” The future heir of the Pierce Group did not appreciate the callback. He shouted at me: “Vivian! I know you’re jealous that I like Sophie, but take it out on me! Don’t bully her!” “If you try to ruin Sophie’s reputation with this video, don’t blame me for destroying you!” 04 He was acting like an NPC following a script. But the comments went wild: [Ahhhh! I can’t! Domineering CEO protecting his wife! So hot!] [Who else but the hero could protect our baby like this?] [Sophie, marry him already!] So noisy. I raised my hand. SLAP. A crisp sound echoed through the alley. Five distinct finger marks appeared on Gavin’s face. “You…” I covered my nose, looking disgusted. “Back off. Your breath stinks.” Gavin raised a hand to hit back, but Sophie suddenly squeezed between us. She blocked me with her small body. “Gavin, you misunderstood! Vivian saved me! If it wasn’t for her, I would be…” She pressed her lips together, eyes red, then turned to me. “Vivian, can you send me the video? I want to call the police.” I raised an eyebrow. The academic White Lotus had a brain after all. “Police?” Gavin was confused. After realizing what actually happened, Gavin’s face grew dark. “Sophie, I forbid you from calling the police.” “You don’t know people like Vivian. If you report this, your reputation will be ruined. Everyone will talk.” He glared at me viciously, as if I were the one pushing his flower into the fire. Sophie paused. “Gavin, they bullied me. I’m the victim. Why would my reputation be ruined?” Gavin didn’t expect her to ask that. He stammered, “Sophie… you… you’re too naive. If you file a report today, tomorrow people will throw mud at you. They’ll say you’re… unclean.” I decided to stir the pot. “He’s right, Sophie. I know the Pierce family. They don’t allow ‘damaged goods’ through their front door.” Gavin didn’t refute me. He looked at Sophie, waiting for her to submit. “Sophie, trust me. I’ll use my connections to bury this. No one will know.” Sophie acted like she didn’t hear him. She looked at me timidly. “Vivian, I think you misunderstood. I have no interest in Gavin. I just want to study.” “And, Gavin… I think you’re wrong. If a thug touches me, and that makes me ‘unclean,’ that means the thug is dirty, not me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386734”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

This weekend, my husband and I were invited to a charity auction. During the bidding, his secretary and I both set our sights on the same oil painting. I was ready for a fair contest, but right in front of me, my husband placed an unlimited bid for his secretary. “Cecily,” she sneered, “you’re nothing but a pet my husband keeps. What right do you have to compete with me?” Just as the other bidders began to drop out, I caught the auctioneer’s eye and snapped my fingers. “Whatever Mr. House is bidding,” I announced, my voice cutting through the silence, “I’ll bid one dollar more.” 01 The moment the words left my lips, every head in the grand ballroom turned to face me. A beat of stunned silence, and then, the room erupted in laughter. “Is this woman insane? Fighting her own husband over a painting? Does she have money to burn?” “She’s more than insane; she’s an idiot. A piece of arm candy daring to challenge Victor House in public. She doesn’t know her place.” “I heard before I came that House picked up a trophy wife a few years ago and just keeps her locked away at home. I guess we’re finally seeing her in the flesh.” As the whispers grew louder, the color drained from my husband Victor’s face, replaced by a deep, blotchy red. He shot up from his chair, his finger pointed accusingly at me. “Cecily, put your hand down this instant! Do you hear me?” he seethed. “You’re spending my money, the House family’s money! How dare you bid against me?” I leaned back in my chair, my posture relaxed, and met his furious gaze with a cool, steady one. “Victor, I am still your wife. You might want to show a little respect.” My eyes narrowed. “And I’m going after something I want. Why should I back down for someone else?” My gaze flickered with a sudden, sharp intensity. “Besides, I’ve never spent a single cent of your family’s money. Don’t you dare suggest otherwise.” His face went from red to purple. “Cecily! Have I not told you? In public, you will address me as Mr. House.” He spat the words out. “You’re nothing but a dog the House family took in. You and I have nothing in common!” I let out a soft sigh, my eyes locked on his. “Mr. House, are you really going to do this? Are you really going to fight me over a painting for your little secretary?” To be honest, I knew something was wrong the moment we arrived. By all rights, as Victor’s wife, I should have been seated at his side. Instead, I was tucked away at a table in the furthest, darkest corner of the room. I could have tolerated that. After all, old Mr. House, his father, had always been kind to me, often inviting me for a game of chess. A good woman should know how to indulge her husband’s foolish pride. But I never imagined that my seat, the one that rightfully belonged to me, would be occupied by Victor’s secretary, Jessica. A fresh college graduate whose only remarkable quality was her youth. And yet, here was my idiotic husband, ready to go to war for her. A hot flame of fury licked up my spine. But the so-called “rising star of the business world” was oblivious, his tirade continuing unabated. “Who the hell do you think you are, Cecily? I don’t need you telling me how to run my life,” he snarled. “For all these years, you’ve eaten our food, lived in our house. What do you possibly have that gives you the right to challenge me?” His voice rose to a crescendo. “You know what? I don’t care who knows. I’m buying this painting for Jessica, and that’s final!” Before I could even react, the secretary herself decided to chime in. She shot me a look dripping with provocation. “Miss Cecily, a word of advice? You should just drop it.” “If you make Mr. House unhappy,” she continued, a sly smile spreading across her face, “your life could get very… difficult.” She let out a little laugh. “A trophy wife should look the part, don’t you think? Am I right, Miss Cecily?” Jessica’s words sent another wave of laughter through the crowd. Even the auctioneer on stage was struggling to suppress a smirk. I, however, simply waved a dismissive hand and let out a cold chuckle. “So, what you’re saying, Miss Jessica, is that you’re prepared to go head-to-head with me today?” She smirked, her eyes filled with contempt. “Miss Cecily, let’s be realistic. You’re a housewife. You don’t even have a job. How could you possibly compete with me? Mr. House just made an unlimited bid. It’s an open checkbook. Do you have that kind of money to follow?” I slowly lifted my chin, a faint smile playing on my lips. “You’re wrong, Jessica. You and I are nothing alike.” “I don’t need a man to buy my things.” My statement was met with a fresh round of scorn. “Oh, please. This girl is all talk. She probably couldn’t have even gotten through the door without Mr. House.” “Exactly. The only reason she’s even in this room is because she married into the House family.” “Who would give her the time of day otherwise? Mr. Auctioneer, can we just get on with it? Let’s not waste any more time on this.” The mocking voices swirled around me, but they didn’t touch me. Because every word I said was the absolute truth. If I weren’t trying to save Victor a sliver of dignity, I would have proudly declared that the entire House Corporation belonged to me. Seeing my silence, the secretary grew bolder. “See? I told you. A woman with no power should just stay at home. Now look at you, completely humiliated.” Before she could finish, I slowly raised my bidding paddle. “Who said I was backing down?” My voice was clear and firm. “It’s just money. And darling, I have plenty of it.” 02 Now, every single eye in the room was fixed on me. Even the auctioneer was frozen, unsure of what to do next. He probably knew I was bluffing, but the rules were the rules; as a professional, he couldn’t bring the gavel down as long as there was an active bidder. Suddenly, Victor’s roar echoed through the ballroom. “Cecily! You’re really determined to make an enemy of me today, aren’t you?” My eyes flickered to the secretary standing possessively beside him. I answered without a shred of hesitation. “Yes.” The word hung in the air for a moment before Victor bellowed again, his voice raw with fury. “Fine! Fine! Let’s see just how deep your pockets are!” He thrust his paddle into the air. “Ten million dollars!” Anyone familiar with auctions knows that an unlimited bid is a point of no return. You either see it through to the end, or you face financial ruin. If Victor was willing to gamble his entire company for a secretary, then I was more than happy to play along. “Ten million… and one dollar.” Heads whipped back in my direction. I could see it in their faces—they were all waiting for the punchline, for me to be exposed as a fraud. No one here knew the truth. No one knew that I was the silent force behind the House Corporation. Years ago, when the House family was on the verge of bankruptcy, their patriarch, Theodore House, had shown up on my family’s doorstep in the dead of night, a marriage contract in hand, begging me to save them. To honor a debt owed by a previous generation, I had gritted my teeth and married Victor. And this man, this ungrateful fool, had never treated me as anything more than an inconvenience. He insulted me daily, and now he dared to publicly humiliate me for another woman. This was an indignity I simply could not swallow. “You bitch! Do you even have that kind of money?” Jessica shrieked, her composure finally cracking as she saw me matching her boss. “This is a high-stakes auction, not a flea market!” She jabbed a finger at me. “Let me warn you, if you can’t produce the funds, you’ll be going to jail!” I glanced up at her and offered a serene smile. “Jessica, you don’t need to worry about my finances. I suggest you worry about your boss. Once you start down this road, there’s no turning back.” My words only fueled Victor’s rage. He raised his paddle again. “You dare lecture my people in front of me, Cecily? You want to follow? Let’s see how much you really have!” “Another ten million! We’re at twenty million!” A collective gasp swept through the room. This was a charity auction, after all. While the items were valuable, they were nowhere near the eight-figure range. And this piece was just a painting by a child, not some old master. “Mr. House, how generous! On behalf of the children in need, I thank you,” I said, clapping slowly as I rose to my feet. “But… since it’s for charity, more is always better, isn’t it?” Then, under the astonished gaze of everyone present, I slowly extended a single finger. “Twenty million… and one dollar.” 03 Not a single person in that room had expected me to challenge Victor so relentlessly. Their expressions were a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. Everyone here was a titan of their industry. Victor himself had only received an invitation because of the House Corporation’s recent resurgence. I could see in his eyes that he was enjoying this, relishing the chance to publicly put me in my place. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced to the room, “let me be perfectly clear. While this woman is legally my wife, we have no actual relationship. If she fails to produce the funds later, the House Corporation will not be held responsible.” I almost laughed out loud. “Mr. House, I wouldn’t be so quick to cut ties with me,” I said sweetly. “After all, you’re the one who started this little spectacle with an unlimited bid. When you can’t pay up, you might just find yourself begging me to bail you out.” Before he could retort, his secretary stepped forward. “Cecily, are you daydreaming?” she scoffed. “You, a mere housewife, think you can compare to the entire House Corporation? You’re delusional.” I shook my head, my composure unshaken. “It may be hard for you to believe right now, but it’s the truth. If you don’t believe me, by all means, let your Mr. House test that theory.” Jessica raised an eyebrow, a sneer playing on her lips. “Be my guest. A woman who doesn’t even know her own worth, still trying to put on a brave face. How pathetic.” Her words didn’t faze me. “I’m sorry, but we’re not the same. I, Cecily, have never used a man’s money to buy anything.” Her comment sparked another round of murmurs from those who knew of my domestic situation. “Please, anyone can talk big. If she were so powerful, why would she be content as a housewife?” “Exactly. Mr. House is a rising star with a net worth in the hundreds of millions. What is she?” “She’s just a clown trying to get attention. Let’s ignore her.” I slowly got to my feet, my gaze sweeping across the entire room. “Listen to me, all of you,” I said, my voice resonating with a newfound authority. “Right now, it’s not just the House family I look down on. It’s every single one of you in this room.” I might not be a business mogul, but I know a thing or two about character. From the moment I walked in, these so-called titans of industry weren’t discussing charity; they were discussing how best to kiss Victor House’s ass. My declaration instantly made me the target of everyone’s fury. Even the auctioneer had had enough. “Ma’am, we do not welcome people like you at this event.” I tilted my head, looking up at the stage. “Oh? And what kind of person is that? Do tell.” Before he could answer, Jessica rushed the stage and snatched the microphone from his hand. “Cecily, you are a useless nobody!” Her voice boomed through the speakers, filling every corner of the ballroom. The business leaders rose to their feet, applauding in agreement. Even Victor, who had been silent for a while, watched me with a look of malicious glee. Seeing this unfold, it hit me with stunning clarity: my decision to save the House family all those years ago had been the height of foolishness. Noticing my long silence, Jessica assumed I had finally lost my nerve. She raised the microphone again. “Hey, you! Now do you see why Mr. House refuses to even sit with you?” Her voice climbed an octave, filled with triumph. “It’s because… you are not worthy.” 04 I fought back the inferno raging inside me and spoke, my voice dangerously calm. “From the sound of it, you want me to divorce your Mr. House?” Jessica’s lips split into a wide, triumphant grin. “Since you’re so self-aware, I won’t bother pretending anymore.” “That’s right. I believe I am a much better fit to be Mrs. House than you are.” I stared at her, my face a blank mask. “Go on,” I said, each word deliberate. “And?” She shot me a contemptuous glance. “Mr. House wants a divorce!” I froze for a second, then turned my head to look at Victor. “Is what she’s saying true? You really want to divorce me?” Victor arched an eyebrow, his eyes filled with disgust. “Jessica is right. I’ve wanted to divorce you for years. It was only because of my father’s pressure that I put it off. It’s perfect, actually. With all these esteemed business leaders here today, they can all be my witnesses.” He looked me straight in the eye and declared, “I, Victor House, am divorcing you!” I looked back at him, my voice devoid of any emotion. “Are you sure about this?” “Victor, have you really thought this through?” Before the words were even out of my mouth, the man pulled a folded document from his jacket pocket—a divorce agreement. “Cecily, don’t even try to talk me out of it. I have never, not for a single moment, had any feelings for you.” I studied him for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. “It looks like you came prepared for this, didn’t you, Mr. House?” He nodded without an ounce of shame. “I did. I’ve wanted to divorce you every single day. I wanted it then, I want it now, and I’ll want it in the future!” At his declaration, Jessica, still on stage, began to applaud wildly. The guests in the room quickly joined in, hooting and cheering. I scanned the crowd, a small, knowing smile touching the corners of my lips. “Well, with an atmosphere like this, it would be rude of me to say no.” “Alright, you win. I agree to the divorce. However…” Hearing that I’d agreed, Victor could barely contain his excitement. He cut me off before I could finish. “Cecily, since you agree, this makes things simple. Name your price. How much money do you want? I’ll do my best to accommodate you.” I waved my hand dismissively, my gaze deep and meaningful. “Not so fast, Mr. House. We can talk about money later. I may have agreed to a divorce, but this auction isn’t over yet.” “My last bid was twenty million and one dollar. Does Mr. House intend to raise?” Knowing Victor and his fragile ego, my challenge to continue the bidding war was the ultimate insult. His face immediately darkened. “Cecily, I’m warning you, don’t push your luck.” I raised an eyebrow at him and gave a careless shrug. “What’s wrong? The great chairman of the House Corporation is getting cold feet at a mere twenty million?” My taunt hit its mark. He exploded. “Fine! We’ll see how long you can keep this act up!” “Thirty million!” “Thirty million… and one dollar.” Victor shot me a death glare and raised his bid again. “Fifty million!” As the price soared, beads of sweat began to form on Victor’s forehead. I let out a cold laugh and spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. “Mr. House, since we’re all here for charity, why don’t we just get straight to the point?” “I bid one hundred million dollars!” The words dropped like a bomb. The entire room erupted. While most of the people here had fortunes exceeding a hundred million, having that net worth and having a hundred million in liquid cash were two very different things. Victor was stunned into silence by my sheer audacity, unable to speak. Just then, Jessica, who had been quiet for a moment, spoke up. “You little bitch, this is an auction, not a numbers game! Anyone can shout ‘one hundred million.’ The question is, can you actually pay it?” Her words were like a lifeline to Victor. A glint of hope appeared in his eyes. “Jessica’s right! Why should I have to follow whatever number you pull out of thin air?” He paused, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “Cecily, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you can’t produce that hundred million, you will be facing serious legal consequences.” Immediately, Jessica raised the microphone again, turning to the crowd. “Mr. House is right! We demand that she verify her funds right here, right now!” Seeing the predatory gleam in Jessica’s eyes, the corner of my mouth lifted into a smirk. “It took you all night, but you finally asked the right question.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386750”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I accidentally crushed my sister’s baby. Flattened it right into the floor. They say a child is a piece of a mother’s own flesh. To make it up to her, I carved a chunk of meat from my own stomach and gave it to my sister. Less than a week later, the meat suddenly came alive. It grew eyes, a nose, and opened its mouth to call me “Mama.” 1 It all started a month ago. My sister, Lisa, had been married for years. She tried everything to get pregnant, but nothing worked. With her thirtieth birthday approaching, Mom suggested she try IVF. But on her birthday, Lisa suddenly announced she had a child. The whole family was stunned. Not only because it was out of the blue, but don’t you need to be pregnant to have a kid? Her stomach had been flat all year. Where did this child come from? Lisa shook her head mysteriously and brought out a thermal container from her room. It was about the size of a hamster cage, lined with gauze and cotton. In the center lay a piece of meat, the size of a palm. Lisa tapped gently on the box, her voice soft: “Dolly, Grandma and Auntie are here to see you!” Mom and I exchanged looks. We both thought she’d lost her mind. But then, the meat moved. It wiggled toward the glass lid. Looking closer, I saw two slits on the surface. They opened slightly, revealing what looked exactly like eyes, staring straight at us. I screamed, nearly falling off my chair. Lisa smiled. She scooped the meat up in her hands and held it out to us like a treasure. “Mom, Sis, look! Isn’t Dolly cute?” Mom was terrified, covering her mouth with trembling hands. “Lisa… don’t scare me like this…” 2 Lisa’s face darkened instantly. “Mom, what do you mean? Do you think I’m crazy?” Mom didn’t answer, just silently wiped her tears. Lisa turned to me. “Sis, do you think so too?” Before I could speak, she put the meat back in the box and sat down coldly. “I know you don’t believe me, but I paid a lot of money for this method!” Lisa told us it was a secret folk ritual. You cut a piece of flesh from your stomach and feed it with fresh blood. The meat will gradually grow into the shape of a child, looking exactly like you. “You know how much I’ve suffered trying to get pregnant all these years. Now I finally have a child. Even if she’s a monster, I accept it!” Tears streamed down Lisa’s face as she spoke. Seeing this, the meat actually pushed open the lid and jumped out, excitedly trying to wipe Lisa’s tears while constantly crying, “Mama.” Mom and I were dumbfounded. Mom swallowed her words, sighed, and decided not to stop her. As her sister, I couldn’t really interfere either, so we let it be. But after dinner, Lisa pulled me aside. “Sis, my husband Mark is coming back tonight. I’m afraid he won’t accept the child right away. Can you take care of her for a while?” Mark was a traditional guy. Years of infertility had cooled their marriage. Since Lisa didn’t work and didn’t control the finances, she was always careful around him. Seeing my hesitation, she held up a finger. “I calculated it. In just one week, she’ll grow into a normal-looking baby. I’ll take her back then!” “Sis, please, for the sake of my marriage, help me!” 3 I was soft-hearted, so I agreed. I took the ball of meat home. Following instructions, I had to feed it every night before bed. I filled a baby bottle with the fresh blood Lisa had prepared, fought back my nausea, and took out the meat. It sat there obediently. Smooth surface. Feeling it in my hand, it reminded me of a raw meatball from the supermarket. But just as I was about to offer the bottle, the meat opened its eyes! The eyes took up almost its entire body. The pupils were slit and long, like a painted pattern. Disgusting and terrifying. I shuddered and instinctively let go. The meat seemed to hit the floor, and just as I apologized and bent to pick it up, the power went out! I fumbled in the dark to flip the breaker, but when the lights came back on, the meat was gone. “Dolly! Dolly, where are you? Auntie didn’t mean to drop you!” I called out several times with no response. When I bent down, I saw what looked like a smear of blood on the sole of my shoe. A bad feeling spread in my chest. No way. No way. I chanted internally as I slowly lifted my foot. In that moment, my blood ran cold. “Dolly” was stuck to the sole of my shoe. The shape was gone, mashed into a paste of blood and raw meat. It was completely crushed. And those slit eyes were flattened, printed onto the smooth floor, still staring straight at me. I had trampled Dolly to death. My mind went blank. My legs gave out, and I collapsed on the floor. 4 The summer night was stifling. Soon, the smell of blood filled the air. Like a zombie, I carried my slipper to the bathroom, scrubbed Dolly into the toilet, and mopped up the eye on the floor. Just as I finished, Lisa called. The ringtone sounded like a death knell, sharp and piercing. I picked up the phone nervously, hesitated for a long time, and finally pressed answer. Lisa’s cheerful voice came through: “Sis, is Dolly settling in okay? Can we video chat so I can see her?” Staring at the pile of meat in the toilet, I lied instinctively. “She… she’s asleep.” “Oh, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. You get some sleep too.” Lisa didn’t press further. Just as she was about to hang up, I stopped her, my heart pounding. “Wait! Can you… tell me the secret method? I have a friend who’s been trying to conceive for years. She wants to try it too!” My back was drenched in cold sweat. I knew I should tell the truth. But I also knew how important this child was to Lisa. If she knew I flattened her baby, she might actually kill me. The only way out was to use the next week to make another Dolly! Silence on the other end. My heart was in my throat, terrified she’d notice something wrong. Luckily, Lisa didn’t think much of it and agreed quickly. “Sure. I’ll send you the Master’s number. Just contact him.” The signal was bad; she had to repeat herself twice. I couldn’t help asking, “Where are you? Why is the signal so bad?” She sighed. “Mark called an hour ago saying he was in the basement parking garage, but he hasn’t come up yet. I came down to look for him.” As soon as she finished speaking, I heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by Lisa’s terrified scream. 5 My heart tightened. “What happened?!” The call cut off. I tried calling back, but it wouldn’t connect. I had a bad feeling, but I didn’t have time to guess. They were coming to pick up Dolly in a week. I was running out of time. Early the next morning, I contacted the so-called “Master.” He seemed to expect me and just gave me an address before hanging up. It was a remote mountain village. I drove all day. By evening, I finally saw the old red brick house from the address. I gathered my courage and knocked. After a few knocks, a wrinkled face appeared in the crack of the door. “Who are you looking for?” His voice sounded like broken bellows. His cloudy, gray eyes looked me up and down. “A friend sent me. I want the potion that makes meat babies.” I answered honestly. He paused for a moment, then said abruptly, “Didn’t you come last week?” I froze. He must have mistaken me for Lisa. We were sisters, and people always said we looked alike. That was why I dared to try this deception. A child made from my flesh should look similar enough to one made from hers. I didn’t explain. “There was an accident. I want to buy another bottle.” The old man looked at me for a moment, went inside, and came back with a bottle of pitch-black liquid. “$5,000 a bottle. Same instructions as before.” I quickly handed over the cash envelope but stopped him before he closed the door. “Um… what were the instructions again? I forgot. Can you tell me one more time?” 6 The old man sighed and came back, lowering his raspy voice: “When you get home, soak a towel in the potion and apply it to your stomach for five hours. When the area feels numb, you can cut the meat.” “After cutting, feed it blood for the first week. Once the mouth and teeth grow, you can feed it normal food.” “The smaller the child, the deeper the connection to the mother. Watch it constantly to prevent accidents that could harm the mother.” “Finally, if you notice the child growing faster than you, destroy it immediately. Or something terrible will happen!” I was confused. “What terrible thing?” The old man gave me a complicated look but didn’t answer directly. He just left me with one sentence. “You’ll know when the time comes.” Back in the car, staring at the black potion, that last sentence kept replaying in my head. Does that mean a child made this way might not stay with you forever? What’s the point of such a short companionship? But since Lisa had been here, she must have known the rules and accepted them. I pushed the thought aside and drove home. That night, I followed the instructions and cut a piece of flesh, nurturing it in a glass box. The next few days went smoothly. The meat ball grew day by day. Maybe because I fed it so often, it grew faster than I expected. But strangely, Lisa hadn’t called since that night. It was good for avoiding exposure, at least. A week passed. The meat ball had developed all facial features and even limbs. Looking closely, it had the shape of a human. And it looked just like Dolly.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386766”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend called me to break up. I paused for a second, then replied, “Weren’t we always just friends?” The other end went silent for a beat, then exploded with noise. “Sister-in-law is savage!” “Boss, how have you been simping for so many years and still haven’t locked it down?” Chase Sterling coughed lightly. “Sorry, excuse me. I need to handle some family business.” 1 Chase emphasized the words “family business.” He was definitely pissed. I hung up before he could say another word and immediately turned off my phone. I spent the whole day in class feeling like a dead woman walking. When the old professor called on me, I actually gave a serious answer instead of my usual sarcastic quip. He pushed his reading glasses up his nose. “Well, well. Has Lily been possessed?” I grinned sheepishly. “Nah, just trying out a new persona for the semester: the quiet, studious girl.” The class erupted in laughter, breaking the tension. The professor nodded. “Right. That’s the Lily we know.” After evening classes, I kept my head down and rushed toward the dorms, trying to avoid detection. Suddenly, my roommates sandwiched me, bumping my shoulders. “Hey, hey! Look at the school gate! That’s a Porsche Cayenne. Looks expensive.” “I don’t know cars, but the pretty boy standing in front of it is definitely expensive…” I looked up. The “pretty boy” with platinum blonde hair was walking right toward us. He flashed a sunny grin and shouted confidently, “Hi! Sister-in-law… I mean, Lily!” My roommates, bless their hearts, had zero chill. They shoved me forward and vanished into thin air. I stumbled, nearly face-planting into Jax’s chest. Jax looked terrified, closing his eyes and stepping back. “You little sh…” Before I could finish cursing, someone scooped me up by the waist. When did Chase get out of the car? I didn’t have time to think. I stood up straight and swallowed the curse words. Jax let out a huge breath, patting his chest. “Thank god you’re okay, Sister-in-law.” I rolled my eyes at him. He laughed nervously. “Don’t be mad, Lily. We were playing Truth or Dare with the Boss!” Uh-huh. And? “Boss lost. He picked Dare. The breakup call was my bad idea.” Jax shook my arm like a little kid. “Hit me, scold me, whatever you want. Just don’t be mad at the Boss, okay?” Chase swatted Jax’s hand away. “Alright, get lost.” So he dragged Jax out here just to explain things to me? 2 Achoo! The AC in the car was blasting. I sneezed. Chase glanced at me and turned the temperature up two degrees. But even the warmer air couldn’t fix the icy atmosphere coming off him. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low. “What did you mean by ‘Weren’t we always just friends?’” Uhh… “Listen, let me make up… I mean, explain…” “Lily, don’t forget. We’re already married.” I slumped back, adjusted the seat to maximum comfort, kicked off my shoes, and curled up. “You were the one who said ‘break up’ first…” I muttered in protest. Chase’s hand on the steering wheel paused. He tossed a blanket over me. “Fine. Neither of us will say it again.” “And… don’t sit like that in other people’s cars.” Like what? I looked down. Oh, right. I forgot I was wearing a skirt… I quickly pulled the blanket over myself. Help. Did he see something? “Did you see anything?” “No.” “What color?” “White…” Hmph. He totally saw it and won’t admit it. Fast reflexes. I peeked at him, blushing. His nose was high and straight, jawline sharp, lips perfectly shaped. The sunset streaming through the window softened his features. Even his side profile was devastating. I noticed the tips of his ears turning pink. Click. I snapped a photo with my phone. Chase’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “What… are you doing?” So handsome! I admired my composition and lighting. “This photo should sell for a lot! I bet your fans would fight over it.” Chase scoffed. “Why? Is the allowance I give you not enough?” Enough? It was more than enough. Being Chase Sterling’s secret wife came with a monthly stipend of $50,000. It was a very friendly agreement we reached. 3 Chase was the highest-ranked esports player in the league. His hands were steady. His driving was even steadier. Every time I sat in his car, I fell asleep. I must have stared at his photo too long because I started having weird dreams… In the dream, my fingers traced over his brow bone, his nose, his lips… And just as he was getting worked up, I kissed him. “Mmph!” I opened my eyes to see Chase’s flushed face right in front of mine. Not a dream! “Breathe.” I finally found some air. Chase chuckled lightly. “Clean up. We’re here.” Looking in the mirror at my watery eyes and swollen lips, I took several deep breaths and cursed internally: Chase Sterling, you animal! I looked outside. It was that private kitchen restaurant I said I liked. Chase was a regular here. The owner greeted him warmly. But today, the owner seemed overly enthusiastic, until he saw me behind Chase. He rubbed his hands together awkwardly. I looked toward the window and realized why. Sitting there was Sienna, the youngest Best Actress winner in history. And Chase’s “white moonlight” ex-girlfriend. “What a coincidence,” Sienna said, smiling. As expected of a movie star. Stunning even without makeup. Chase paused for a few seconds, then nodded. He reached back and pulled me forward. Thanks a lot, buddy! Sienna looked visibly surprised when she saw me, then smiled again. “I didn’t know you liked this place too.” Is it too late to say I hate it now? Sienna bit her lip, eyes slightly red, staring at Chase with deep affection. Old lovers reuniting. Sparks flying. Since it was a private kitchen and everyone knew each other, Sienna suggested we eat together. She sat opposite Chase, chatting casually about recent events. “Congratulations on founding the top esports club in the country.” “Thanks.” “Chase, I’m planning to develop my career back in the states now…” I channeled my third-wheel energy into my appetite. You guys talk. I’ll eat. I looked out the window. Maybe I wouldn’t be by Chase’s side much longer. The owner came over. “Drinks? Iced or room temp?” Chase and Sienna said in unison: “Room temp.” I yelled alone: “Iced!” Sienna giggled shyly. “I can’t believe you still remember…” Chase swapped my iced Coke for a warm one. “Don’t you know you can’t have ice the next couple of days?” Facing Chase’s sudden concern, I instinctively looked at Sienna. The shy blush hadn’t faded from her face yet, but her knuckles were white from gripping her glass. Hiccup. The atmosphere was too awkward. My body betrayed me. 4 Liking someone is like a hiccup. You can’t hide it. Apparently, awkwardness is the same. After my nth hiccup, Chase finally couldn’t hold it in and laughed out loud. I glared at him. Drinking water and eating rice wasn’t helping. Help me. Why am I hiccuping in front of my love rival??? Watching Sienna sitting elegantly across from us, I wanted to cry. Chase patted my back indulgently. He took away the water glass I was reaching for. “That won’t work. I have a method. Want to try?” I nodded like a bobblehead between hiccups. “Look over there!” Huh? I followed his finger. The next second, his large hand cupped the back of my head, and he kissed me! “You you you… what are you doing?” My face exploded with heat. I pushed him away in a panic. He licked his lips like he wanted more. “What? Hiccups gone, now you’re a stutterer?” I stammered for a while, unable to form a sentence. Crash. Sienna’s glass hit the floor. Her eyes were red, voice trembling. “Sorry. Slipped.” She walked toward the restroom, looking strong yet fragile. A classic “pity me” flower. I peeked at Chase. He was unmoved, seriously eating his food. Something’s off. Did he kiss me just to make Sienna jealous? Is his calmness just a front? I lost my appetite. Sienna came back. She looked like she’d been crying. A pear blossom bathed in rain. Truly pitiful. I tactfully opened my Uber app. “Um, I’ll call a car back to school. Chase, you drive her home!” Chase snatched my phone and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, walking me out. “Miss Sienna doesn’t need me. I’ll drive you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386782”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My CEO girlfriend, Isabella, and I were finally at that age—the marrying kind. But just as we started planning, she suddenly enacted a bizarre new company policy: To be approved for wedding leave, an employee must first demonstrate their commitment with a full month of perfect attendance. No exceptions. From that day on, Isabella—a woman who had a seven-year perfect attendance streak—developed a new catchphrase. “Bob, I’m so sorry. I was just one minute late again this month. Next month. I promise, next month I’ll marry you.” From my 29th birthday to my 32nd, in just three short years, she got into ten “accidental” car crashes that landed her in the hospital, suffered twenty-one bouts of food poisoning, and overslept five times. In short, she never managed to get that perfect attendance. At first, I was understanding, comforting. Then came the doubt, the anger. Finally, I started driving her to work myself, clearing every possible obstacle from our path. Yet, on the last day of one month, she fainted dead away just as she was stepping through the company’s front doors. That’s when a saying echoed in my mind: You can’t wake someone who’s only pretending to be asleep. After getting her to the hospital, I turned to leave. But a sliver of hope held me back. What if she was really sick? What if I was being a monster for leaving her alone? I hesitated, then turned back. And as I neared her hospital room, I heard her talking to a friend. “Isabella, there’s definitely something going on between you and that new intern, Caleb.” The casual words struck me like a bolt of lightning, knocking the air from my lungs. Isabella’s voice was laced with a nostalgic smile. “That kid’s got something. It’s been a long time since I felt that spark. Looking at Bob now is like looking at my dad. It’s just… exhausting.” “So you invented this whole perfect-attendance rule just to stall him? Aren’t you afraid he’ll find out and dump you?” “Not a chance. He’s waited for me from 24 to 32. I’m all he has. Besides,” she added, her voice dropping with casual cruelty, “he literally gave me a kidney. He’s not going anywhere. I can say a few sweet things and he’ll be eating out of my hand again.” “True. We’ve all seen how devoted he is to you. The crazy schemes he comes up with just to get you to work on time… it’s almost pathetic.” The sound of their laughter was a physical blow, a sharp, tearing pain in my chest. All my efforts, all my hopes for our future, were nothing but a joke to them. Isabella’s voice, feigning remorse, cut through my daze. “Bob, today was the last day of the month. I really thought I was going to make it. I can’t believe I failed again. I’m the worst. I swear, next month. Next month, I’ll get that perfect attendance.” Hearing those words, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Isabella, for three whole years, I have moved heaven and earth to help you, and you still couldn’t do it. How can you promise you’ll make it next month?” My question stunned her into silence. Her hands clenched into fists. “I’ll set my alarm earlier,” she said, her voice firm. “Three in the morning. I’ll get up at three. I can make it then.” “Bob, you have to believe me. Just one more month. I promise.” “Actually, Ms. Hayes might not be considered late today.” The sudden interruption from the HR representative silenced the room. Isabella’s face went rigid. “Not… late?” Her tone wasn’t joyful. It was pure terror. Her eyes darted nervously to Caleb, the intern, who was watching from the sidelines. “But she wasn’t all the way through the door!” Caleb blurted out. “Can that really count?” The HR rep looked conflicted. “Well, the security footage shows half her body was inside when the clock turned. But because she was falling, the sensor didn’t register her entry. It’s a tough call.” Suddenly, Caleb stumbled, knocking over a potted plant. He swayed, looking like he was about to faint himself. Isabella rushed to his side, steadying him. The moment their eyes met, fat tears rolled down his cheeks. I couldn’t see Isabella’s expression, but I saw her hand tighten on his arm. “Honestly, Ms. Hayes,” the HR rep continued, “we’ve all seen how hard you’ve tried these past three years. Maybe we can just call this one a…” “No,” Isabella cut in, her voice sharp and decisive. The office fell into a dead silence. I could feel the pity in my colleagues’ eyes. The HR rep blinked. “Ms. Hayes, are you sure?” Isabella’s expression was resolute. “As the CEO, I have to lead by example. Besides, I want to marry Bob with a clear conscience, knowing I earned it.” “Next month,” she said, turning her warm gaze on me. “I’ll definitely get it next month. I know Bob is understanding enough to wait for me.” I stared back, my face a mask of stone, and looked away. As the crowd of onlookers dispersed, I saw Isabella catch up to Caleb. “Stop crying,” she whispered. “I didn’t marry him, did I? Besides, you know he’s just a responsibility to me. I don’t even want to marry him.” Caleb’s tears magically stopped, replaced by a sullen pout, waiting for her to coax him back into a good mood. I hadn’t seen her use that kind of patience in years. I couldn’t stand to watch anymore. I walked back to my desk, pulled out my phone, and methodically cancelled the wedding venue we had on hold. Then I called off the wedding planner. The event coordinator was incredulous. “Sir, if you cancel, the next availability is over a year away. Are you absolutely sure?” I didn’t blame her for being surprised. Three years ago, I’d booked that venue with unshakeable confidence, telling them to save the best ballroom for me. After one, two, ten, thirty postponements, here I was, not getting married, but canceling. It was enough to make anyone curious. My eyes fell on the bouquet of flowers Isabella had sent to my desk as yet another apology. “I’m sure,” I said, my voice unwavering. “Cancel everything.” Before I overheard that conversation in the hospital, I’d had my doubts. I thought maybe we’d grown apart, that she had a simple fear of commitment. But I never, ever suspected betrayal. And I certainly never suspected it would be with Caleb, the “slow” and “annoying” intern she was always complaining about. “That new intern is painfully stupid. It took him three days to sort a simple file.” “Did HR have a lobotomy? Why would they hire an idiot like that?” Isabella, normally so composed, always seemed to fly into a rage whenever Caleb was mentioned. After the hospital, I did some reading. A psychology book said that lashing out like that can be a defense mechanism when you’re trying to deny a powerful attraction. A powerful attraction. Just how powerful was it? I thought back to when we first got together. She was incredible to me then. I once glanced at a watch on another guy’s wrist, and she entered a street race and won it for me. When a summer storm flooded the city, she abandoned her multi-million dollar car and waded through the floodwaters from her mansion on the hill just to get to my apartment. She was a wreck when she found me, covered in mud, but her only concern was whether I was hurt. I couldn’t understand it. How could two people who were once so in love end up here? When I got home, Isabella was already there. She threw her arms around me, pulling my cold body into a hug. “You’re freezing! You always try to look cool and never wear enough layers.” I didn’t answer. My gaze drifted to the coffee table, which was covered in trendy, greasy takeout food. “I heard from the kids at the office that you like this stuff,” she said. “I bought it all to say I’m sorry.” This was all the junk food Caleb always had at his desk. It was obvious who had “suggested” it. When I didn’t react, she tried another angle. “You know, we’re already like a real married couple. A marriage certificate is just a piece of paper, a formality. I don’t think we should be so conventional, right?” Years ago, I’d fallen for those lines. I forced myself to be the “cool, understanding boyfriend.” Now I saw that I had just let myself become a fool. “Isabella,” I started to say, but I saw her eyes were glued to her phone, a smile she couldn’t suppress playing on her lips. “Bob, something’s come up at work. I have to go,” she said, already grabbing her keys. “You go ahead and eat.” I watched her hurry out the door and then quietly scraped the entire table of greasy food into the trash. After my kidney transplant, my doctor told me to avoid greasy food. She never remembers. In the dead of night, my phone rang, jolting me awake. It was Isabella’s mother. The second I answered, her shrill voice pierced my ear. “Bob, you have three minutes. Get on every group chat and clear up this mess for Isabella. Now.” Confused, I opened my phone. It wasn’t just our company chat; it was chats with our corporate partners, too. All of them were flooded with pictures of Isabella and Caleb at a bar earlier that night. In the photos, her hand was on his thigh, their heads close together. It was damningly intimate. Isabella was the president of a major bank; her personal conduct and reputation were critical. No wonder her mother was panicking. “Ma’am,” I said coldly, “Isabella made her bed. Why is she afraid to lie in it?” My words sent her into a rage. “Don’t you take that tone with me, Bob! None of this would have happened if you weren’t such a curse! Isabella never missed a day of work in her life until she decided to marry you! Then suddenly it’s one ‘accident’ after another! Do you think that’s a coincidence?” “Honestly, a man whose own parents disowned him can’t have good fortune. Only my foolish daughter would treat you like a treasure. Marrying a man with a missing kidney isn’t a marriage, it’s a liability! And you have the nerve to criticize her?” She spat the words with such conviction, as if I were truly the one who had wronged her daughter. The reason my parents disowned me was because I had defied them, giving up our family home and a high-paying job in a major city to follow Isabella here. At the time, looking at the woman who cared for me so completely, I thought she was worth the gamble. It turned out I had bet on the wrong horse. The thought was another sharp jab of pain. Her mother was still ranting, listing all the ways I had brought misfortune to her daughter. I cut her off. “I’m breaking up with Isabella,” I said calmly. “You don’t need to worry anymore.” I hung up, leaving her sputtering in shock on the other end of the line. I had just lain back down when my phone rang again. It was my dad, from my hometown. We hadn’t spoken in years. I answered, bewildered. His voice was old and trembling. “Bob, you need to come home. Your mother… she’s not going to make it.” My mind went blank. The last time I saw her, she was strong enough to yell at me for leaving. How could she suddenly… My body moved before my brain could catch up. I threw on some clothes and ran for the door. I yanked it open and ran straight into Isabella. Behind her stood Caleb, sobbing hysterically. Before I could process what was happening, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Isabella had slapped me. “Bob! Who gave you permission to follow me? And to slander me and Caleb? When did you become so twisted?” I stumbled back, catching myself on a table. I touched my cheek, a bitter laugh rising in my throat. “Slander? Everyone at the office knows about you two. You don’t need my help with that. And follow you? That’s something someone who still loves you would do, Isabella. I’m done. I just want out.” My words clearly rattled her. A flicker of panic crossed her face. Caleb’s whiny voice cut in. “Bob, please don’t misunderstand. Isabella was just helping me because I’m not very good at my job. Why would you spread those horrible pictures in the group chat? How am I supposed to face anyone?” He clutched his chest, feigning a dramatic gasp. “You’re just playing games to hurt her. I can’t stand to see her upset.” He started wheezing. “Isabella… my asthma… I can’t breathe.” That was all it took. Isabella’s heart melted. She turned back to me, her eyes hard and cruel. “Break up? You think you can threaten me with a breakup to make me forgive what you did to Caleb? Not a chance, Bob. Get on your knees and apologize to him. Now.” I had to get to my mother. I didn’t have time for this. Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “I shouldn’t have spread false photos to slander you and Caleb. Are we done?” My quick compliance seemed to surprise Isabella. But Caleb clutched his chest again, gasping for air. “Why does the perpetrator get to be so arrogant? We, the victims, are just supposed to accept a hollow apology? What about the psychological damage he’s caused?” Isabella wrapped an arm around him. “What do you want, Caleb? What will make you feel better?” “I can’t show my face in public,” he whimpered. “So let’s make it so he can’t either. Then we’ll be even.” He pulled a small, wicked-looking knife from his pocket. “I’ll just carve a few little words into your face, Bob. You’ll be ugly for a while, but once it heals, my anger will be gone. What you did could stain my reputation for life. This is just a small price to pay. You should be grateful.” My blood ran cold. I stared at the gleaming blade and looked to Isabella, begging her with my eyes. She turned her head away. “You did this to yourself, Bob,” she said. “Just take it.” I couldn’t believe it. This was the woman I had loved for eleven years. The next second, the blade bit into my cheek. I didn’t know what was on it, but besides the slicing pain, there was a searing, chemical burn. I screamed, thrashing, but Isabella held me down, her grip like iron. “Just a little longer, Bob,” she hissed in my ear, her voice demonic. “It’ll be over soon.” The agony was blinding. A surge of adrenaline gave me a strength I didn’t know I had. I broke free from her grasp and shoved Caleb to the ground. He had only fallen to a sitting position, but he let out a blood-curdling shriek. Isabella completely ignored my face, which was already starting to blister and swell. She rushed to Caleb’s side, frantically checking him for injuries. Once she was satisfied he was unharmed, she looked back at me, her face a mask of disgust. “Look at you, Bob. You’ve become a monster. He was just giving you a little punishment for what you did, and you attack him like that. If you keep this up, I really will never marry you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386798”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mother came to me privately and asked me to sell her house. “Your father is having some business difficulties,” she said. “I want to give him a little support.” The house was the only asset my grandmother had left her—a small, solid harbor meant solely for my mother. Now, for my father, she was throwing her harbor onto the market at a steep discount. A buyer contacted me quickly. The woman’s voice was warm and overly friendly. “Hello, could you possibly hold the property for me? My partner wants to gift it to me next week for my birthday.” I glanced at the photo on her phone screen, the one she had up with her ‘partner,’ and I froze. It was my dad. I managed a bright, professional smile, nodding at the woman. “Of course. I look forward to meeting your partner next month at the closing.” 01 After our conversation, I made sure to confirm the buyer’s information again and again. “Just so I can reserve the property, may I please take down the full name and a contact number for the purchasing party?” It wasn’t until I saw the forms—the name, the ID, everything matching my father’s—that the cold truth settled like a lead weight in my stomach. It really was him. The woman handed the paperwork back, her smile wide and self-satisfied. “Such a sweet girl. I hope you find a man who cherishes you as much as mine cherishes me someday.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Next week is my thirty-fifth birthday. He told me he’d get me anything I wanted, no limits. This little condo is older, sure, but the location is downtown. A quick renovation, just the two of us, and it’ll be perfect!” Her ‘kind’ words were a shard of glass in my chest. My grandmother’s last gift to my mother—her safe harbor—was being sold off at a loss so my father could turn it into a present for his mistress. I fought down the nausea, forcing myself to test the waters. “What if… what if your partner can’t come up with the full amount?” I tried to sound apologetic. “I don’t mean anything by it, but buying property is a huge deal. It would be a nightmare if the deal fell through later…” She threw her head back and laughed, as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “If he can’t scrape together a two-million-dollar down payment, why would I bother with him?” She lowered her voice to a proud whisper. “I’m not afraid to tell you, sweetheart, a few of his company’s new projects have hit the jackpot recently.” She shook her wrist, flashing a Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet. “See this?” she said, preening. “He just picked this up for me last weekend. On a whim.” I stared at the bracelet, the hatred a bitter heat on my tongue. “Your partner is so romantic,” I choked out, my voice tight. “When my mom had her birthday, my dad just gave her a thermos he got from a grocery store promotion.” The woman raised a perfectly sculpted brow, smugness radiating off her. “Men, honey, they know who’s worth spending money on.” She ran a finger over the bracelet. “Last week, I mentioned I was craving Japanese. He immediately booked a table at that place—two hundred dollars a head. Has your mom ever been anywhere like that?” My stomach twisted. I remembered last month, my mother’s birthday, when my father had claimed to be too busy with work and told her to just make herself a bowl of noodles. I took a deep, shuddering breath, swallowing the screaming questions that wanted to burst out. “He sounds incredibly thoughtful,” I managed, pasting my real estate agent’s smile back on. “I’ll get the documents ready for next week’s contract signing, then.” She tossed her hair back, pleased. Her phone buzzed with a message alert. She glanced down, a bright curve to her lips. “Ugh, he’s rushing me. He wants me to test drive. He insists on replacing my old car with a new Porsche; says the old one doesn’t suit me anymore.” She deliberately flashed the screen at me. The chat name on the lock screen read “Hubby,” and the last message was a pinned location for a luxury dealership. My nails dug crescent moons into my palms. Yesterday, my mom had asked him to take her to get her commuter scooter repaired. He’d told her he was locked in with an important client. She swayed her hips as she left, leaving a heavy, cloying cloud of expensive perfume behind. Before she disappeared, I used the excuse of needing an easy channel for closing details to add the woman, Vanessa, on WeChat. That evening, Vanessa’s social media updated. [Test drive surprise! Someone special said white matches my new dress.] The photo showed my father, Mitchell, holding open a car door, beaming, the dealership logo visible behind him. I scrolled down. Last Wednesday: [Midnight feeding] My dad, in a pristine apron, cooking a lavish seafood feast in what looked like a custom kitchen. When my mother’s arthritis flared up and she couldn’t stand to cook, he told her to eat instant noodles and manage. Last Sunday: [Gift haul unboxing] A sofa piled high with designer shopping bags. The family account ledger from that same week showed he had refused my mom’s request for a new refrigerator. In every photo, my father’s smile was indulgent and doting, a completely different man from the one who sighed and complained about “tough times” at home. I screenshotted every image, saving the evidence. My phone vibrated with an incoming call. It was my father. “Sasha, any progress on the house?” His voice sounded weary, stressed. “Your mother’s been nagging. Try to talk some sense into her.” I stared at the screenshot of him, arm-in-arm with his mistress, test driving a luxury car. “Dad,” I said softly, “what time are you coming home today? Mom made braised pork.” He paused. “Can’t. Client dinner. Gotta schmooze.” He sighed, heavily. “Business is just so difficult these days.” The call ended. I pulled up my mother’s recently posted social media update. It was a photo of her standing next to our old, yellowed refrigerator. The caption read: [Suddenly stopped cooling. The meat smells a little… off. Any suggestions for salvaging it, ladies?] The first comment was from my father. [Don’t waste it. Boil it longer, you can still eat it.] I saved the last screenshot, locked my phone, and put it away. Next week, on the day of the signing, I would be presenting him with a substantial ‘birthday gift’ of my own. 02 When I pushed open the door, my mother, Eleanor, was crouched in the kitchen, scrubbing the floor. The water she wrung from the mop was grey with soapy residue, and her fingers were red and chapped from the cold water. Her sleeve was stained with the dark residue of the herbal medicine she’d boiled this morning. “Mom.” My voice was rough. “Stop scrubbing. Did you get the fridge fixed?” She looked up, forcing a smile. “Your dad said we need to hold out a little longer. We’ll replace it once business picks up.” I stared at her split, cracked fingernails, a sharp, cold pang gripping my heart. Last year, when my dad was dealing with a flare-up of his rheumatism, she had shelled walnuts by hand to crush into his medicine, tearing off half a nail in the process. All he had said was that women were “just too delicate.” And she, my sweet, loyal mother, had actually started blaming herself for being too fragile. “How did the house talk go?” She steadied herself on the counter, clutching her lower back. “Your dad was coughing all night. I need to get that money together quickly…” I cut her off. I held out my phone. “Just look at this first.” Confused, she took the phone. Her fingers slid across the screen, bringing up Vanessa’s feed. The posts rolled past: Mitch smiling next to the Porsche [Test drive surprise]; Mitch in the kitchen making an elaborate seafood dinner [Midnight feeding]; and the most recent, most galling post: [Someone special said my bracelet was too plain, didn’t match my new dress.] The accompanying image was the Van Cleef & Arpels counter, a sales associate packaging a matching necklace. “I checked the price,” I said, my voice low and hard. “Even the cheapest version of that necklace is over eight thousand dollars.” “Th-this is…?” My mother’s hands were shaking. “This is the client who came to view the house today. Guess who’s buying it for her? My dad.” I watched her face as I explained, my words cutting through the air. “He cries poverty to us, Mom, but he’s pouring money into her.” “Impossible…” Her lips trembled. “Your dad said money was so tight he even had to cut my prescription coverage for a few months…” I pulled up the bank transfer screenshots. “Tight?” I pointed at the large, frequent transfers to Vanessa. “Eighty thousand dollars sent over three months. The notes all say ‘wellness investment.’” She suddenly stumbled toward the bedroom, returning with a rusted metal box. It was stuffed with yellowing receipts: my dad’s physical therapy bills, his vitamin subscriptions, his supplements. On every one, she’d written in her delicate script: Mitch’s health is paramount. The irony was staggering. At the very bottom was a photocopy of my grandmother’s will: Property bequeathed to Eleanor. May it be a place of shelter and refuge. My mother looked at the receipts, then the will, and the tears finally burst through. “How… how could he do this to me?” she choked out. “It wasn’t enough to take my money, to take my life—he wanted to steal my last anchor, too!” “Your grandmother warned me again and again…” She sobbed, caressing the copy of the will. “This house, Sasha, this was my root.” I picked up a recent receipt. Last week, Mitch took five hundred dollars for “holistic supplements.” That same week, Vanessa’s social media showed a new designer handbag. “Look closely, Mom,” I said, holding up the phone to the receipt. “His ‘supplements’ are what she’s wearing.” She suddenly snatched the phone, swiping furiously. Every photo of Vanessa’s boasting was a lash across her face. Mitch cooking, Mitch jewelry shopping, Mitch test-driving a new car. “When I was in the hospital last year for my surgery…” She stared at his adoring smile in one photo. “He said the hospital signal was bad… he was busy being her personal chef…” Tears splashed onto the screen, and then, slowly, a soundless laugh broke from her. “No wonder he always complained my medicine tasted bitter…” She grabbed the stack of receipts and hurled them against the wall. “Using my life’s savings to bankroll that little tramp!” In the flurry of falling paper, her bent back slowly, painfully, straightened. “Sasha.” She wiped her eyes, her voice now flat and cold. “Next week, for the contract signing, I’m coming with you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386814”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel