Category: English

Willow and Ezra had loved each other for a lifetime, only to be reborn together into the 1980s. To claim our destiny again, I waited two full years in the same community center social where we first met. Watching him walk toward me with that familiar, determined stride, my heart swelled with joy. I reached out my hand, ready to start our new life. But his steps carried him past me, stopping instead in front of Savannah Reed, the Director’s daughter. “May I have this dance?” It turned out he wanted to change partners. 1 “Willow, you’ve looked toward that door at least ten times. Who are you waiting for? So many handsome guys here, and you haven’t spared a glance for any of them?” I ignored Savannah’s chatter, my eyes fixed on the entrance. I had been reborn, and tonight was the night I first met my husband, Ezra Thorne. In our previous life, Ezra and I were the couple everyone pointed to. We started from nothing, building a life and a business over sixty years. We were poor, we fought, we struggled, we cried, we made up, and we complained—but we never once mentioned splitting up. In our toughest times, we shared a single roll, huddling together for warmth. After we made our fortune and moved into a house, we still supported our friends and family. We walked through life hand-in-hand, the enviable model couple. On his deathbed, I asked him: “If you could be reborn, would you still ask me to dance that night?” He kissed me without hesitation, and I ended that life with a smile. So in this life, I refused every man who showed interest, no matter how capable or handsome he was. I was waiting for Ezra Thorne. I was going to be his wife again. I avoided every social mixer at Talon Textiles & Design. I told my frantic parents I had a soulmate, and he would arrive at our company on this exact date next year. My parents thought I was losing my mind. I waited year after year. Ezra, who should have joined the company in 1986, finally showed up in 1988. It was then I learned he had spent two years in the military. Ezra had always lamented his biggest regret was never having served, yet here he was, having deliberately chosen two years in the armed forces. A guess formed in my mind: Had he been reborn too? When I heard Ezra was attending the social mixer, my excitement was uncontrollable. I was the first to sign up. Even two years late, I wore the same polka-dot red dress and had my hair styled just like the night we met. I turned down every invitation, sitting in the waiting area, staring intently at the door. Tonight, I would officially greet him. “That’s the new tech specialist at the plant.” “And I heard he just got back from the military—you can tell. The whole vibe is different.” Savannah nudged my arm, pointing toward the main entrance. That familiar silhouette entered my field of vision. The thumping music of the dance floor seemed to slow to 0.5 speed. His close-cropped hair, the sharp lines of his jaw—he scanned the room as if searching. The moment his eyes met mine, he gave a shy smile, revealing his signature dimple. He walked through the crowd, straight toward me, just like the last time. Twenty-four-year-old Ezra Thorne still made my heart race. I took a deep breath. My heart hammered faster as he approached. I raised my arm, ready to receive the happiness of this second life. My hand froze mid-air. He stepped past me, stopping in front of Savannah Reed, who was sitting just behind me. “Hello, miss. May I have this dance?” Savannah looked flustered, her face immediately flushing crimson. Colleagues around us started to cheer and egg her on. “Ezra’s the new guy, Savannah! Don’t crush his confidence!” “Yeah, go on! Just one dance!” Unable to refuse, Savannah placed her hand in his. Ezra took her hand, and they walked onto the dance floor. The crowd erupted in cheers. I sat there dumbfounded, the loud music now a meaningless buzz. Ezra didn’t spare me a second glance. He walked straight past me, his steps unwavering, toward Savannah. Had he wanted to ask Savannah to dance, even back then? I fled the venue. Rain poured down, and memories of the previous life flooded back. Last time, Savannah had invited me to the social. She had styled me from head to toe. The red polka-dot dress was one she often wore. The curls were a look she had copied from an old movie star. We were similar in height and build. When we were dressed up, standing next to Savannah, I looked a bit like her twin. I couldn’t dance, so I only dared to sit in the corner. Ezra had approached, lowering his gaze, and asked me in front of everyone: “Hello, miss. May I have this dance?” The stage lights were dim. He didn’t dare look up. Seeing my delay, he gathered his courage and added: “I’ve liked you for a long time. Please, dance with me!” That was the first time I had ever truly heard my own heartbeat. I’d silently been in love with Ezra for ages. Suddenly confessed to by the object of my affection, I panicked. My mind blank, I woodenly extended my hand and managed to reply, “I like you too.” The colleagues around us cheered. It was only then that Ezra looked up and our eyes met. At the time, I couldn’t read the shock in Ezra’s eyes. I thought it was surprise. After that one dance, I grew bolder and sought him out. Ezra never rejected me. The people at the plant quickly assumed we were a couple. Marriage and children followed, as if by simple momentum. Even though he was distant, I always believed he was just a naturally reserved man. But now, remembering the burning intensity of his gaze as he looked at Savannah in the dance hall— The truth hit me. Ezra had been aiming for Savannah all along. I remembered Savannah saying she had a soft spot for military men. That’s why he joined the military first thing in this life. His supposed regret from the past life was a direct reference to Savannah. Ezra’s purpose in being reborn was as clear as mine. Only our targets had changed. I went home, sick from the rain. My parents worried outside my door for days. Once I recovered, I said with chilling composure, “Mom, Dad, I’m ready to start dating.” In this life, Ezra seemed like a completely different person. The man from the past life was cautious and would consider every move carefully. But the man now practically moved his desk next to Savannah’s. It was as if he wanted everyone at Talon to know he was obsessed with Savannah. His aggression and passion were things I’d never seen. In the old days, if I got too close to him at work, he’d avoid me. “We’re in the same unit. People will talk.” I don’t know what ‘gossip’ he was afraid of then, but now, he’d been warned repeatedly by the Director and still hadn’t stopped pursuing Savannah. Savannah, my best friend, couldn’t stop venting to me about Ezra. “He’s so annoying! Ezra Thorne is like glue, everywhere I go, he’s there!” “You don’t like him? I noticed you kept the gifts and went to the movie he paid for.” “Keeping a gift means I have to date him? I get gifts from guys all the time.” Savannah had many suitors. Ezra, even with two years in the military, wasn’t particularly outstanding otherwise. Savannah shared the imported chocolate Ezra bought her with everyone. A pang of envy struck me as I looked at the piece in my hand. When I was pregnant in the last life, I desperately wanted a sweet piece of chocolate. But he said we were starting a business, and every penny had to be spent wisely. With a baby on the way, money was tight. No matter what I wanted, he always had a thousand reasons why not. Now, if Savannah just mentioned wanting some, he’d buy her so many boxes she couldn’t finish them. Love and disinterest were always obvious. It was just my own delusion that made me blind to it. Later, feeling a bit low on sugar at my desk, I unwrapped the chocolate Savannah gave me. “How could you eat that?” This was the first time Ezra had spoken to me since his rebirth. But his next action was to slap the chocolate out of my hand. “That’s for Savannah! Where did you steal that from?” The word “steal” chilled me to the bone. That was his opinion of me: a thief. “What is wrong with you! I gave that to Willow!” Savannah stepped in instantly to protect me. Ezra gave an awkward half-smile. “Oh, right. My bad.” He turned to Savannah, his tone shifting to pleading. “Savannah, that chocolate was expensive. It cost half my paycheck. You should really keep it for yourself.” “I’ll give it to whoever I want! It’s none of your business! Come on, Will, I’ll take you out to eat.” When Ezra had said “steal,” his eyes looked at me like I was a complete stranger. He never once considered that I might have been reborn, too. After all, we had been together for sixty years, started a business, built a home, and raised children. Even without love, surely there was family affection. His cold tone was laced with resentment. He was terrified of having any connection to me, even through a gift he had given to someone else. “So, Savannah, when are you going to make things official with Ezra?” Savannah sighed, pushing some mashed potatoes onto my plate. “His background is just too rough. Besides the military thing, nothing about him excites me. I’m still thinking about it.” Despite her words, within two months, the news of Ezra and Savannah’s relationship was all over the plant. Many speculated that Ezra was chasing Savannah because she was the Director’s daughter—a classic opportunist looking for an easy climb. But to prove his ‘true love,’ Ezra got Savannah’s face tattooed on his arm. In the last life, when our son tattooed a photo of me and Ezra on his arm, Ezra had shamed him relentlessly. I never imagined he’d use that same move to woo Savannah. Savannah’s parents hated the tattoo and Ezra’s perceived opportunism. They demanded they break up immediately. But with young people, the more you push, the tighter they cling. To show he wasn’t a gold-digger, Ezra swore he would buy Savannah the first fully paid-off condo in the city by next month. Listening to the gossip, a thought struck me: Ezra, from a poor background, where would he get the money to buy a house, let alone next month? Wait. Oh, hell. I suddenly remembered that next month, the city was hosting the first-ever National Bridal Design Competition. Last life, I entered a sketch just to try. My design won the gold medal and was bought by an industry insider for an astronomical fifty thousand dollars. In the 1980s, that fifty thousand became the seed capital for Ezra and my business. My brain spun. Last life, I only submitted the drawing. If I could actually sew the dress, I could get a lot more. I worked overtime for over a month. When I arrived at the competition venue, I heard waves of praise. “Who designed this? It’s practically art!” “This level is world-class!” “I totally underestimated Ezra Thorne! That heavy beadwork is simply divine.” … The applause was non-stop. I looked toward the cluster of people. A gown identical to my past life’s design was on a model. The elaborate beadwork, the jewelry choice, the lace pattern—everything was exactly the same. The only difference: the design was credited to Ezra Thorne. I had forgotten. In the previous life, he had seen that winning design hundreds of times and used it as the corporate showpiece for our company. I met Ezra’s eyes. I didn’t need to ask for an explanation, but his eyes were filled with provocation. He turned to the crowd of contestants and declared: “Competitions should be about sincerity. If you only bring a sketch, maybe don’t bother showing up!” “My finished work has been in process for over a month. Every stitch is my own blood, sweat, and tears!” He was certain I had only brought the sketch, just as I had the last time. The onlookers praised his dedication. The few who had only brought sketches lowered their heads in shame. My mother, who had come to help me, saw Ezra’s work and panicked. “Honey, how is his design exactly the same as yours?” Ezra and the people nearby overheard Mom’s words. A moment of silence passed. Ezra pounced as if he’d caught me red-handed. “Willow Sterling! We’re from the same firm. Were you spying on me while I was designing?!” “This is a competition! Are we really going to have plagiarism in the first year?” Ezra’s prepared accusations hit like a barrage. My mother, furious, opened my garment bag to argue with him. “This is what my daughter worked on for a month at home! Who copied who?” My gown was finished just this morning. The tailor’s basting stitches hadn’t been pulled out, and some threads weren’t trimmed. That made my alleged “copying” even more convincing. The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, and people started demanding I be disqualified. Even Savannah, standing next to Ezra, looked at me like I was a thief. If I hadn’t lived a whole life before and seen every scenario, I would have fled right then. I was unperturbed, my expression calm. I registered, I filled out the forms. Seeing my attitude, Ezra adopted a posture of phony magnanimity. “Look, let’s go easy on her. I’m sure Willow was just blinded by ambition. We’re colleagues, so let’s have some mercy.” “Designs can be similar. I’m sure she didn’t do it on purpose this time.” He was playing both the good guy and the victim. People’s goodwill toward him increased. “For the sake of fairness, Willow, your entry isn’t quite finished, and it’s a collision with mine. You really shouldn’t compete. You’ll only embarrass yourself.” I smiled. “Ezra, I never said this was my entry.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386866”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Married to Eric for ten years, and his phone was always “out of storage.” He cleared his chat history every single day. I told him to get a new one, but he’d always refuse, saying the old one worked “just fine.” And I believed him. Right up until the moment I discovered he’d deleted my messages and forgotten my birthday, yet somehow had space for over two thousand photos of him and a young colleague at a Halloween event at the amusement park. That’s when it hit me. The problem wasn’t his phone’s memory. It was that I was no longer worthy of taking up any of it. 1 On my birthday, after ten years of marriage, Eric came home late from work to find the dining table empty. He looked genuinely confused. I stared back at him, my own feigned surprise masking a deep disappointment. “The cake? You were supposed to cook tonight, remember? Did you even buy groceries?” Eric slapped his forehead. “Oh God, Kate, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. I’ll go right now.” The bubble of anticipation I’d been holding all afternoon popped. I felt deflated. “Forget it,” I sighed. “It’s too late. Let’s just order something.” “Eric, can’t you just get a new phone? You have to clear your chats every single day!” I grumbled, the frustration finally bubbling up. He immediately tried to smooth things over, sending me a $5,000 transfer. “I’m sorry, honey. The phone still works, it’s fine. But you should get a new one. Go buy yourself something nice.” I gave him a look—a mix of annoyance and affection—and let it go. “Just go take a shower. I made soup. We can order a couple of nice dishes to go with it and still make it a feast.” Eric squeezed my cheek and disappeared into the bathroom. While I waited, I started browsing new phones online, still thinking of getting one for him. To compare prices and avoid getting ripped off by targeted ads, I picked up Eric’s phone… and a notification immediately popped up: “Storage Almost Full. Clean Junk Files.” On instinct, I went to his photo gallery, planning to delete some old screenshots to free up space. But what I found made my blood run cold. His gallery contained 2,438 photos. Every single one was of the same woman: his colleague, Norah. The oldest ones dated back a year. Each photo was perfectly angled, capturing the soft, pale light on her face. He’d even caught candid shots of her turning to smile over her shoulder. But the most recent ones made me physically tremble. It was a selfie of him and Norah together, their faces painted with bloody streaks, little devil horns perched on their heads. The background was unmistakable: a Halloween pre-party at the amusement park. It was from last week. The same day as our daughter Lily’s parent-teacher conference. I’d been out of town on business and asked him to go. Her teacher later told me no one showed up. When I asked him about it, he’d claimed he got stuck with last-minute overtime and forgot. He said he’d cleared our chat history and the reminder along with it. He was so apologetic, even buying Lily a gift to make up for it. But his “overtime” wasn’t work. It was a date with his colleague at the amusement park. An image of Lily standing alone and confused in her classroom flashed in my mind, and a hot wave of fury washed over me. I wanted to storm into the bathroom and demand an explanation. No wonder he cleared his chats every day. He was erasing his tracks. He must have trusted me so completely, so certain I would never check his phone, that he didn’t even bother to hide the photos. The doorbell rang. The food delivery had arrived. The sound snapped me back to reality. I collected the food, called Lily to wash up for dinner, and calmly placed his phone back on the sofa. I thought for a long moment and made a decision. I would say nothing. Not yet. He was confident I’d never look. But even the most careful person makes a mistake, and he wasn’t even being careful. He was flaunting it, treating me and our daughter like we were invisible. Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play it, I would make him feel so guilty, so utterly indebted to me, that he would willingly give me everything before I made him lose it all. 2 After Eric got out of the shower, we ate dinner as a family. Later, he retreated to his study, claiming he had some reports to review. I opened my laptop and searched for “Norah” and the name of his company. Big data did its thing, and her social media profile was the first result. I clicked. There were hundreds of short videos, and nearly all of them featured Eric. A stolen glance. Feeding each other bites of food. Eric, at least, seemed to have some reservations; his face was often cut off, showing only his chin and mouth. But the small mole on his jawline was unmistakable to anyone who knew him. Norah’s captions were… interesting. “He said he wishes he could go back ten years and drive me to school every day. Lol!” “He bought me a Children’s Day gift today! Said he was making up for the last twenty-something years I missed out on!” “A client was giving me a hard time, and my guy stepped up and put him in his place! Total hero.” Reading that, a memory clicked. About six months ago, I’d gotten a call from the police station saying Eric had been in a fight. I rushed over, frantic with worry, only to find him calmly consoling a young woman. He seemed flustered when he saw me, quickly explaining that some guy had been harassing his colleague and he’d stepped in. Norah had even thanked me profusely, telling me how much Eric had helped her. She even took us out to dinner afterward to show her gratitude. How pathetic. Looking back now, it was so obvious. It wasn’t about justice; it was his chance to play the white knight. And I, like an idiot, had praised his “strong moral compass” and even joined them in bad-mouthing the client. I kept scrolling and found the video from the amusement park. Her caption read: “Halloween pre-party! He promised he’d take me again on the actual night!” I checked the date and a plan began to form. The next morning, Eric did something he rarely did: he made breakfast. As we sat at the table, I brought up Halloween. “We should do something for Halloween. I saw a lot of people going to the amusement park. It looks fun!” Eric shot the idea down immediately. “No, that’s for young people. It’ll be too crowded. What if Lily gets lost?” he said dismissively. “Besides, it’s a foreign holiday. What’s it got to do with us?” Lily looked a little disappointed. “My teacher did say we should celebrate our own traditional holidays more.” Eric ruffled her hair. “Exactly.” I could see the sadness in Lily’s eyes. “But we could just go for a little while. There are other rides and things to do there, too,” I pushed gently. “Think of it as a little break. The next day is a Saturday, anyway.” Lily’s head perked up. “Yeah! Let’s go!” I looked at Eric. He sighed, his voice heavy with resignation. “Fine. You two decide.” Lily and I exchanged a triumphant smile. I knew exactly what he was planning. He’d “accidentally” clear his chats and forget all about it. I just nodded, playing along. On Halloween, just before leaving work, I sent Eric a text with the plan. Let’s meet at the main gate. And please, don’t delete this message. He replied with a simple “Got it” and then went silent. I knew what that meant. He was going to stand us up and then play the “I was so busy I forgot” card. I pulled up Norah’s social media. A new video had just been posted. They were already in the car. “He’s taking me out for Halloween! Tonight is all ours!” she captioned it, complete with heart emojis. The comments were a flood of envy. “OMG, total daddy-boyfriend goals!” “Wait, a guy that handsome and successful can’t possibly be single, right?” “How did you snag such a great guy?” Norah replied to that one: “It was fate. He’s always been focused on his career, that’s why he was single. We’re the perfect team!” And then, a truly defiant one: “So what if office romances aren’t allowed? He’s willing to risk it all to be with me!” 3 Everyone in the comments was fawning over her. Using a burner account, I typed a simple question: “I see a tan line on his ring finger. Is he married?” Norah’s reply was instant: “He’s a desirable man. The person he lives with isn’t the person he loves.” The commenters understood immediately. “So you’re saying he’s already taken? You’re a homewrecker?” “I knew a guy that good wouldn’t be on the market. Knowingly being the other woman is disgusting.” Norah quickly deleted the negative comments, but not before I screenshotted everything. Oh, Norah, I thought. You have no idea how much people despise the other woman. Your defensiveness just proves one thing: you’re not as confident as you pretend to be. To know your relationship is wrong and dive in headfirst anyway isn’t brave; it’s just cheap. I took a deep breath, said nothing, and took my daughter straight to the amusement park. On the way, Eric called. “Honey, I just remembered I ordered some fresh groceries online. They’re being delivered right now. You need to get home and put them in the fridge before they go bad!” I almost laughed. There were no groceries. It was a pathetic attempt to keep me at home so he and Norah could have their perfect date night. “Okay, I will,” I said, my voice perfectly calm. My composure must have unsettled him, because he quickly added, “Listen, something came up at work. I don’t think I can make it tonight. But I promise, I’ll take you and Lily another time!” “I know.” I hung up and checked the video from our doorbell camera. Sure enough, a delivery person was at the door. I texted my neighbor, asked him to accept the package, and sent him $20 for his trouble. Then, Lily and I walked through the gates of the park. Nothing was going to stop me. I was going to make Eric understand that his actions had consequences. Just then, an email from my lawyer arrived with the draft of the separation agreement. I had already compiled a list of Eric’s assets, including every expensive gift he’d bought for Norah that she’d so conveniently flaunted in her videos. It was all marital property. I forwarded everything to my lawyer. All that was left was to serve him the papers. The park was packed. I bought Lily a little devil costume she loved, and we walked hand-in-hand, having the time of our lives. I took dozens of photos of her, and even a few of myself. Our family of three was split in two tonight. In Norah’s mind, a washed-up wife like me had no place here. This was a playground for the young. But who made that rule? I followed the trail of Norah’s video posts, easily tracking their location in the park. Lily was ecstatic, her joy infectious. I even bought her a huge pink cotton candy. We were busy taking pictures with a costumed monster character when I saw them. Just a few feet away, Norah was wrapped in Eric’s arms, kissing him as they posed for a selfie. Lily saw him first. Her face froze. “Daddy?” Before I could stop her, she ran towards them. “Daddy!” The sound of her voice made Eric whip his head around. His eyes met mine, and raw panic flashed across his face. He shoved Norah away from him so hard she stumbled. “Kate! I—I can explain!” he stammered, his face a mess of shock and regret. Lily reached him, her small voice trembling. “Daddy, you said you had to work.” I walked up to him, a slow, cold smile on my face, and slapped him hard across the face. “Eric,” I said, my voice ringing with finality. “I want a divorce.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386467”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In our sixth year of marriage, my husband, Jackson, began doting on a pretty, fragile college girl. He even grounded a private jet for her. Everyone said he must be madly in love. But this was the same Jackson who’d come home every night and play the part of the perfect, devoted husband. Until he found out I was having an affair, too. The day it all came out, he screamed at me, his voice tearing, asking me why. “If it’s the thrill of someone new you want, I can do whatever they do for you! Anything!” 1. I was humming a little tune when I walked through the door. Jackson was just finishing up in the kitchen and looked up at the sound of my arrival. “You’re back late.” He approached me with that familiar, gentle smile, taking my bag and sliding a pair of slippers onto my feet. “You mentioned last week you were craving that steak from Delmonico’s, so I tried to recreate it. Work was slow today. I made almond torte for dessert, too.” “That’s sweet of you!” I beamed, my smile not quite reaching my eyes. “But I’ve already eaten. You go ahead. Just toss whatever’s left.” I smoothed my hair back, ready to retreat to my study and finish the last pages of my script, but as I passed him, his hand shot out and clamped around my arm. His eyes were dark, unreadable. He bit his lip, a wounded look clouding his features. “Ella, I feel like… you’ve been distant lately.” He chose his words carefully. “Did I do something wrong?” That was a great question. A slow, knowing smile spread across my face as I turned to him. “No, nothing. I’ve just been in a bit of a mood.” I saw the relief wash over him, and just as he began to relax, I added nonchalantly, “My flight for that business trip last week? I was already on the plane when some lunatic started screaming that his woman was on board and was going to run off. He actually forced the entire plane to turn back.” Jackson’s expression flickered through a dozen emotions. “The flight was canceled. I had to rebook, just like everyone else. By the time I got there, the studio exec said I had no sense of professional courtesy and pulled the plug on the deal. Jackson,” I said, my voice dripping with mock despair, “can you believe my luck?” He dropped his gaze, his mind clearly racing. When he looked up again, his face was a mask of weary resignation. “Ella, you never told me you were on that flight. It was Rosalie… she’d hurt her leg and was trying to run off somewhere. I was just honoring the promise I made to her brother before he died. I couldn’t let her make her injury worse.” He added, as if it explained everything, “A dancer’s legs are her entire life.” I nodded slowly. “I get it. You were afraid she wouldn’t be able to make it on her own. So you bought her a condo, sponsored a university dance competition with her as the star, and rushed over to see her in the middle of the night. I get all of it.” I looked right at him, my expression the very picture of empathy. “I understand completely. So, can you let go of my arm now?” Jackson stared at me for a long moment, a profound exhaustion settling over him. He rubbed his temples, shaking his head with a sigh. “Ella, you have so much already. It was just one deal. Don’t be difficult about this, alright?” He reached out, trying to pull me into a hug. “Whatever deal you lost, I’ll make it up to you. Just let this go.” I let him hold me, my gaze fixed on the open door of my study. The wall opposite was covered with the awards and trophies I’d won over the years as a screenwriter. I could write the destinies of others with such ease, but I never imagined my own life would become such a cliché. My husband of six years, the man I’d been with for eleven, was cheating on me with his best friend’s little sister. He showered her with money every month, a constant stream of gifts and support. He’d even forgotten that his own wife was deathly allergic to almonds. The one who loved almond torte was Rosalie. It was never me. I patted the small of his back, my eyes drifting away as he held me. I said nothing. 2. Jackson must have thought he’d smoothed things over, because he let out a visible sigh of relief. But then his phone rang, and he was gone in a flash. He covered the receiver as he turned, his face a canvas of undisguised urgency, but he consciously softened his voice when he spoke to me. It was the same tone he used for the person on the other end of the line—as if he were speaking to a fragile treasure that might shatter at the slightest vibration. “Ella, something’s come up at the office. I have to go.” He paused for a second as he grabbed his coat. “Rosalie… she’s been through a lot. I’ll explain everything when I get back, okay?” After the door clicked shut, I sank onto a chair, my eyes drawn to the framed photo of Jackson and me on my desk. No, it wasn’t okay. Not at all. Forcing me to rehash something I already knew inside and out would only be twisting the knife. But Jackson didn’t see it that way. I remembered last week, when I first heard the flight was being grounded. Before I could even process it, a flight attendant was rushing down the aisle after a phone call, anxiously asking, “Is there a Miss Rosalie Dubois on board?” Rosalie, dressed in a flowing white dress, stood up, a vision of fresh-faced independence. The attendant quickly escorted her off the plane. There was only a thin curtain separating business class from economy. If she had just glanced up, she would have seen my stunned face. Through the window, I watched as my husband grabbed her wrist, his voice sharp and scolding. Tears streamed down Rosalie’s beautiful face, and in the next second, Jackson cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. Some of the other passengers, oblivious to the full story, were more captivated by the real-life drama than annoyed by the flight delay. They started recording on their phones, murmuring about what a perfect couple they made. If the man in the video hadn’t been my husband, I might have thought it was a scene from some classic romance movie, too. But all I could do was watch as Jackson, after that passionate kiss, swept Rosalie into his arms and carried her away, leaving nothing but his back turned to the world, and to me. I lit a cigarette, the ember glowing red as it burned down to the filter. When Jackson and I first got married, Rosalie’s brother was our best man. She was only in high school then, watching us from a distance. She was so teary-eyed, so moved, I thought she was just an overly empathetic kid. I even joked that she should save some of those tears for her own wedding. How had I been so blind back then? How had I missed the undisguised ache in Jackson’s eyes when he looked at her? At the thought, a wave of nausea churned violently in my stomach. I bolted upright and ran for the bathroom. After a session of dry heaving left me exhausted, I leaned against the washing machine, my mind a blank haze. Then, my own phone started ringing. “Ella, my star writer! You busy? Just caught some fresh trout. Want me to bring them over?” It was Leo, an actor who’d recently started making a name for himself. He was an influencer-turned-actor, and while he had the looks, a built-in fanbase, and even some decent acting chops, he couldn’t seem to land the right script to break out of the C-list. We’d exchanged numbers at a wrap party, and he’d been texting me ever since, asking me out, making his intentions clear. After all, a role tailor-made for him could launch a nobody into a household name. I was about to say no, but as the word formed on my lips, I caught a glimpse of my own haggard reflection in the mirror above the sink. Instead, I gave him my address. “Be right there!” Leo sounded ecstatic. He said a quick goodbye and hung up. I clutched my phone, staring at my reflection. A bitter, ugly smile twisted my lips. If you can keep making excuses for your betrayal, Jackson, then why can’t I? 3. By the time Leo arrived, I had just finished scraping every last bit of the food Jackson had cooked into the trash. When I opened the door, a stunningly handsome face greeted me. Leo held up two still-flapping trout in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. “Haven’t eaten, have you? Good thing I’m a decent cook. Let me show you what I can do.” He had a way of making himself at home instantly. The moment I gave him a sliver of an opening, he slipped right inside. I watched him put on a pair of Jackson’s slippers and almost told him to change them, but I let it go. “No gigs lately? You have time to go fishing?” “I’m a nobody, Ella. The agency signs me and then forgets I exist. But hey, no work means I have plenty of time to cook for a brilliant, beautiful woman.” Leo shot me a wink. Within minutes, he had one of the fish cleaned and prepped. As he dumped the scraps into the trash, he paused. I knew he’d seen the feast I’d thrown away. He just pursed his lips. “Whoever cooked this clearly doesn’t know you. This stuff is way too rich. Didn’t you just have your appendix out? You’re supposed to be eating light, right?” I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. I didn’t correct him. He was right. I’d been rushed to the hospital with acute appendicitis not long ago. When they needed a family member to sign the consent forms, Jackson was unreachable. He finally showed up the next day, after the surgery was over, rushing in with tears in his eyes, telling me how sorry he was. He’d been exhausted from work, fallen asleep at the office, and hadn’t been there for me. If I hadn’t seen the post on Rosalie’s private social media account—if I hadn’t known the day of my surgery was her birthday, and that Jackson had been with her the whole time—I probably would have believed him. After all, I used to trust him so, so much. Leo was happy to play chef, and I was in no mood for small talk, so I went back to my study to finish my script. “Dinner’s ready!” Leo burst into the study, wearing an apron Jackson had tossed on the sofa before he left. He brandished a pair of chopsticks and shot me a playful look. “Seriously, Ella, I’m a pretty great cook. If you ever write a chef character, you have to recommend me to the director! I’m not afraid of hard work!” “You talk too much,” I grumbled, but a small smile touched my lips. As I walked into the living room, I realized Leo had turned on the TV. The image on the screen made me freeze mid-step. It was Jackson, his face grim, protectively shielding a petite woman in his arms. A swarm of reporters surrounded them, shoving microphones in his face. “Mr. Thorne, sources claim you and Miss Dubois have been secretly involved for six months. Can you confirm you’re having an affair?” “Mr. Thorne, we heard you grounded a jet for Miss Dubois and flew in a world-class dance coach from Europe just for her final exams. Isn’t that a bit extreme?” “Mr. Thorne, your wife is the renowned screenwriter Ella Vance. Does she know about any of this?” At the mention of my name, Jackson finally looked up, his eyes flashing with a clear warning. “Shut your mouths, unless you want your entire network to go under.” Jackson wasn’t in the entertainment industry; he underestimated the tenacity of the press. His threats only made them bolder. “Tch. The girl he’s protecting is Rosalie Dubois, right?” To my surprise, the voice came from behind me. I turned to see Leo, still meticulously wiping the edge of a serving bowl with a paper towel. Seeing me look at him, he offered a lazy grin. “I saw that Rosalie at an industry dinner once. She was with some real estate mogul. His own daughter just got married last year, and Rosalie’s about the same age. She was all over that old creep, fawning over him, taking drinks for him. Later that night, she left with him and a few other investors.” Leo sneered, his face full of disdain. “The girl’s toxic. And that Jackson guy is blind, thinking she’s some pure, innocent flower. He can’t even see she’s a Venus flytrap. He deserves to be played.” The knot of grief in my chest loosened slightly. I glanced up at the large wedding portrait of Jackson and me hanging in the center of the living room. I pointed a thumb at it. “Hello? See the wedding photo on the wall?” “Saw it!” Leo replied cheerfully. He pulled me over to the dining table and sat me down, then leaned in close, his voice a soft, husky murmur in my ear. “Ella, your husband’s got terrible taste. So why don’t we get rid of him, what do you say?” “Consider me, Ella. I’ll be so much more loyal to you than he ever was.” I watched impassively as Leo took my hand and placed it on the smooth, pale skin of his neck. The beautiful young man in front of me held my gaze without blinking. “Choose me. I guarantee… you won’t be disappointed.” 4. The news of Jackson’s affair vanished from the internet in less than a day, replaced by a trending story about a starlet wearing a suspiciously expensive piece of jewelry. I was lounging on the sofa of a condo I’d owned before the marriage. Beside me, Leo was meticulously de-seeding chunks of watermelon and feeding them to me while I argued with a production company on my laptop. “Ella, everyone in the business knows you don’t allow changes to your scripts. And they want you to rewrite a main character? What’s their angle?” Frustrated, I snapped my laptop shut. My last message to them was a simple “Let’s cancel the contract.” Leo had been on a tirade against the director ever since he’d heard, not even bothering to ask for a role for himself. He was just angry on my behalf. “Vent all you want to me, but be careful. That’s a big-shot, award-winning director. Don’t get yourself blacklisted.” Leo just smiled and leaned closer, gently tucking a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “Blacklisted, not blacklisted, who cares? I’m on your side, no matter what.” He really was breathtakingly handsome. The slightest flutter of his eyelashes was enough to captivate you. It was no wonder he’d managed to break out of the influencer world and into this industry. I found myself reaching out, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. He leaned into my touch, a picture of willing submission. Then, Jackson’s call came through. “Ella? You haven’t been home the last few days?” Jackson’s voice on the other end was hesitant. “I noticed the bed hasn’t been slept in. Are you on a trip?” I glanced at Leo, who was still trying to get my attention. He held up a goofy novelty mask and mimicked its exasperated expression, making me let out an involuntary laugh. “Are you out right now?” Jackson asked, his tone sharpening. “Yes,” I replied, my patience wearing thin. “Is there something you need? If not, I’m hanging up. I’m busy.” “Wait!” he cut in urgently, taking a deep breath. “You saw the news online, right? That day, Rosalie was being falsely accused of being a sugar baby. I was just helping her out of a jam. You know how the media loves to twist things.” Across from me, Leo rolled his eyes and started tapping away at his phone. “Mhm, yes, I heard. You’re such a saint,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “If the media just makes things up, why did you bother paying to have the story buried?” “I didn’t bury it.” He was growing agitated. “Where are you? Give me an address, I’ll come to you. There’s something I need to discuss.” I paused, glancing at the bag I’d brought with me today. “Perfect. I have something to discuss with you, too.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386483”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was so broke, I was eating on someone else’s boyfriend’s dime. Using his meal card, to be precise. Then a post about me in the cafeteria went viral on the campus confessions page, and the original poster showed up in the comments to let me have it. 【Ava from CompSci, right?】 【Are you that poor? Can’t even afford your own food? Gotta use someone else’s boyfriend’s meal card?】 【How does it feel to be a homewrecker? Did you know my sister is in the HOSPITAL because of you?!】 In less than a minute, the thread exploded. 【Whoa, what’s going on??!】 【Ava is a homewrecker??】 【Hospital? Seriously? What happened?】 … “Guys, you have to see this person’s profile!” On the poster’s social media feed was a series of screenshots. 【Why? The things I give you… why do you just turn around and give them to her?】 【Does she have any idea I queued up all night to get that Pikachu keychain? How can she just take something so precious without a second thought?】 【You say it’s nothing, but it’s such a coincidence, isn’t it? That you even ended up in the same elective class…】 【You told me you were going to a conference. I waited for you all alone on Valentine’s Day, like a good girl. But my friend saw you two, alone in the conference room for a long, long time. The cake I bought tasted like ash in my mouth.】 【I felt bad that you were struggling with money, so I skipped meals to top up your card. But then I saw you hand her a bubble tea with a little heart sticker on it…】 【I’m just a normal girl. I can’t compete with a campus queen like her. Sometimes, when I see you two together, I get confused. Was my happiness the stolen thing all along?】 【If you like each other, could you just tell me?… I don’t want to be the fool. I know when to walk away…】 A collection of short, fragmented entries, like diary pages, stretching from last February until today. A full year and a month. They were soaked in a young woman’s sorrow, her tears painting a world of gray, draining the color and energy from everything. The silence in our dorm was so thick you could hear a pin drop. Mia cleared her throat. Everyone’s gaze followed hers, landing on the gray Pikachu keychain hanging from my crossbody bag. On my desk, a stack of pink bubble tea bags had accumulated. “Last Valentine’s Day…” another roommate started, her voice trailing off. Last Valentine’s Day, I had spent hours getting ready before I went out. The worst part wasn’t the flood of angry comments. It was the hesitant silence of my own friends. I saw Mia’s lips part, as if she wanted to say something, but the details in those screenshots lined up with reality, one by one, with damning precision. My phone, lying face down on my desk, buzzed. I flipped it over. The screen lit up with the two most blinding words I could imagine right now: Leo. The same Leo who gave me the keychain, who bought me bubble tea, who I was in that delicate, unspoken “something more than friends” phase with. Sunlight streamed through the high window, but not a single ray seemed to touch me. “So, you were playing me? Flirting with me while you were with her, is that it?” My tone was sharp, devoid of any warmth. The face I knew so well was now clouded with a shadow I couldn’t penetrate. His eyes darted away, the line of his jaw tight. I cut through his hesitation. “I had no idea you were seeing someone. This is on you. You need to clear this up, and then we’re done. We don’t see each other again.” “And I’m truly sorry for the pain this has caused your girlfriend.” Throughout this whole mess, I never knew she existed. If I had, I would have never, ever let things get this close. Leo and I were childhood friends. He moved away in middle school, and it was a shock to run into him again at university. I did have a crush on him, I’ll admit it. But I wasn’t desperate enough to knowingly chase after someone else’s boyfriend. This was his mess to clean up. He was the one who hid the truth, the one who blurred the lines. I laid out my terms. Leo was silent for a long moment, then slowly shook his head. “I can’t do that.” I stared at him, my focus sharpening. His expression was unyielding. “I only ever saw you as a little sister, Ava. I don’t know if I did something to make you think we were… flirting, or something.” “I’m just used to looking out for younger girls, that’s all. I never had any other intentions. This whole thing has really upset my girlfriend, and I think you need to apologize to her, in person. And from now on, I’ll definitely be keeping my distance.” His words hit me like a physical blow, my head buzzing. “What are you talking about? This is your fault. And now you’re telling me you saw me as a sister?” He shrugged, spreading his hands. “What else would it be? You’re the one who’s been misreading things all along, aren’t you?” “You were the one dropping hints about bubble tea. You begged me for a birthday gift, so I gave you the keychain because I felt bad. I never thought you’d actually accept it.” “Everyone knows I have a girlfriend. How could you not know? You told me you lost your meal card, so I lent you mine out of kindness. Then you just… never gave it back. You even made sure my girlfriend saw you using it. What was that, if not a deliberate provocation?” “I was just being polite, but you kept crossing the line. Now Abby is lying in a hospital bed, and you will apologize to her.” In that moment, I didn’t recognize the person standing in front of me. Lending me the meal card was his idea. He said he was working an off-campus job and wouldn’t need it. The money on it? I put it there myself. I’m not the kind of girl who sees romance in every friendly gesture. I know the difference between friendship and something more. But the things Leo did, the way he acted… it was textbook courting behavior. The intimate nicknames, the way his entire demeanor changed when he was with me compared to anyone else. I had always thought we were in that sweet spot, more than friends but not yet official. Call me old-fashioned, but I was waiting for him to make the first move. I never imagined the reason he hadn’t wasn’t because he was shy. It was because he couldn’t. And now, all those little moments, the sweet gestures I’d cherished during our “almost-relationship,” were being twisted and thrown back in my face as proof of my shamelessness. He claimed everyone knew about his girlfriend, but I was the one person who had been kept completely in the dark. The conversation ended disastrously. I thought he was coming to me to admit his mistake, to figure out a plan. Instead, he’d pinned everything on me. It was laughable. The next day, my world imploded. My social media was a dumpster fire of notifications. An audio recording of my conversation with Leo had been posted online, cleverly edited. They’d cut out the most critical parts of the conversation, making it sound like I was confessing to everything, confirming that I was the aggressor, the homewrecker. The victim was in the hospital. Leo, crying, had apparently received her forgiveness. He’d just “made a mistake with boundaries,” he said. The only one at fault now was me. It was me who did the seducing, me who was shameless, me who used my looks to bully other students. Once the seed of doubt was planted, everything I did was put under a microscope. The way I drank my coffee, my step count on WhatsApp, even the clothes I wore were dissected on the operating table of public morality. A group photo from a club event where I happened to be standing next to the president was now “proof” that I was a “habitual homewrecker.” Leo and Abby’s silence left me standing alone in the eye of the storm. My attempts to post clarifications were drowned out, disappearing without a ripple. The campus was buzzing with the thrill of gossip. Everywhere I went, I heard the whispers, the rumors. My social media, even my parents’ TikTok accounts, were flooded with hateful comments. Some called me a fake, a phony. Some pitied the girl whose relationship I had supposedly destroyed. Others said I looked innocent, but was probably a slut behind closed doors. They called me a bitch, a near-murderer. The insults were a barrage of daggers, and every single one seemed to have my name on it, magically swerving around Leo. I even overheard guys in the hallway muttering about how lucky he was, how he had some serious game to have two beautiful girls fighting over him. All the knives, they all found me. If things were bad outside, they weren’t much better in my dorm. Besides Mia, who still spoke to me in quiet tones, my other two roommates treated me like I was invisible. “Don’t be too hard on them,” Mia said, trying to comfort me. “It’s just a shock… They have really strong morals, you know…” I pressed my lips together. “Leo never told me he had a girlfriend.” My words felt weak, pathetic without proof. All those unspoken feelings, those shy, secret emotions, had left no trace, no evidence that could prove my innocence. I tried to contact Abby, to explain what really happened. All I got back was a message saying she was still recovering and couldn’t face me right now. Every attempt to clear my name only brought more criticism. The rumors didn’t die down; they grew, fed by a steady stream of new “evidence”—a selectively cropped chat screenshot, a misinterpreted photo—all painting me as a promiscuous villain. The whole affair reached its peak at the annual campus gala. I was the host. I was always the host. But this time, it was different. People I’d worked with for years, people I thought were my friends, avoided my eyes, their smiles strained and awkward. An invisible, suffocating pressure filled the backstage area. No one said a word, but I knew. This was my last time hosting. They hadn’t replaced me only because there wasn’t enough time to find someone else. I took a deep breath and walked onto the stage. Just as I expected, I was met with a sea of appraising stares and hushed whispers. Scrutiny, mockery. The hand holding the microphone trembled slightly. I wasn’t strong enough to stand here and pretend their words didn’t cut me. Thankfully, as the performances began, the attention on me started to fade. At nine o’clock, the gala ended. I stepped forward to deliver the closing remarks. The energy in the auditorium had mellowed, the crowd’s earlier animosity replaced by a restless impatience to leave. I forced a smile. “That concludes a wonderful evening. We’ll see you all next…” My words were cut short by an icy shock that hit me full in the face. Filthy water, mixed with leaves and cigarette butts, drenched me from head to toe. My hair was plastered to my face in dripping strands, my white formal dress stained and ruined. I didn’t have to look to know what a pathetic sight I must be. For the first time, I saw the guy who made the original post. His eyes were filled with raw, naked malice. “My sister is in the hospital, and you get to stand here, all glamorous and perfect?!” he screamed. “You vicious bitch, you don’t deserve this!” The audience, who had been shuffling towards the exits, stopped dead. Phones came out, a hundred little black lenses turning towards the stage, a hundred unblinking eyes watching this trial by public opinion. No one looked at me with pity. There were only cheers, a wave of excitement at this unexpected finale. “YES! Finally!” “She deserves it! Why should Abby be in the hospital while she’s up there under the spotlights?” “This is so satisfying!” My shock and humiliation were the spark that lit their fireworks. The hall erupted. Abby’s brother and I were both hauled into the Dean’s office. This guy, all six feet of him, was the one whose eyes turned red first. Talking about his sister, he choked up. “I just couldn’t stand it…” he sobbed. “Why should my sister suffer so much while she gets away with everything… I wanted to… I know I was a bit impulsive…” The Dean spent a long time talking to him, consoling him. His voice softened, and it seemed like they’d reached some kind of understanding. But when he left, the look he shot me was anything but forgiving. In his eyes, I deserved everything I got, and even this wasn’t enough to settle the score. Silence descended on the office again, the same heavy silence that followed me into my dorm room, into my classes. The Dean took a sip of tea. It felt like an eternity before she finally spoke. “Ultimately, you were in the wrong here, Ava. While the young man’s actions were extreme, they’re… understandable.” “Let’s just leave it at that.” She tapped her fingers on the desk, a gesture of finality. I looked up at her. “I didn’t do anything.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It is what it is. Don’t dwell on it. You young people and your messy lives.” “Because of the impact of this incident, you probably won’t be getting that scholarship. There’s nothing to be done about it.” “Give it time. The rumors will die down eventually. Just let time handle it.” She said it so calmly, but I could feel my whole body trembling. Why did everyone think this was something I just had to endure? Why was every attempt I made to tell the truth drowned by this tidal wave of gossip? The truth wasn’t what they said it was, so why was I the only one being punished? I looked at the clues I’d gathered on my phone and opened up the campus confessions submission form. A few minutes later, a new post set the campus on fire all over again. 【HUGE NEWS—This Wednesday, 3 PM, Ava will be live-streaming her confession. She will admit to being a homewrecker, kneel to apologize to Abby, and offer financial compensation.】 Watching the comment count skyrocket, my eyes narrowed. Maybe I was wrong to try and explain myself from the start. When someone throws mud at you, crouching down to wipe your skirt is the most useless thing you can do.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386499”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For five years, everyone said I was dead. Even the boy I grew up with burned paper money for me every year on my “death anniversary.” But he was also the one who said he wanted to cut ties with me, the one who said we should never contact each other again. Later, I returned to the States and ran into him at a bar. Before I could even say hello, his bodyguards pinned me to the floor. He looked at me with chilling indifference. “Who allowed you to get plastic surgery to look like her?” Then he ordered his men: “Ruined her face.” Wait, how did the guy I haven’t seen in years suddenly turn into a criminal? 1 As soon as I walked out of JFK, a figure in black tackled me. “Zoey, I missed you so much!” It was my best friend, Chloe. We hadn’t seen each other in years, and the feeling was mutual. She hugged me for so long I started to lose my breath. “Chloe, that’s enough. Oxygen.” “Right, right.” Chloe let go, her eyes sparkling. “You’re not leaving again this time, right?” I nodded. “Yeah, I’m staying.” Chloe suddenly thought of something and burst out laughing. “If Liam saw you, would he think he’s seeing a ghost?” Liam was my childhood sweetheart, the only guy I ever loved. Before I came back, Chloe filled me in on what happened back home. Liam wasn’t the same Liam from five years ago. He climbed the ladder faster than I did and was now the head of the Sterling family empire. And me? I spent five years hiding in Europe just to stay alive. Surviving this long used up almost all my luck. I hadn’t contacted Liam in a long time. I looked at Chloe. “You didn’t tell him I was coming back?” Chloe smirked mischievously. “Nope. Serves him right for being so heartless back then.” Back then… My thoughts drifted. Liam and I were solid. We planned to marry after graduation. But my dad’s sudden illness revealed a secret: I had two half-brothers and a half-sister I never knew about. Dad was on his deathbed, and to fight for the inheritance, they planned to get rid of me. A staged car accident left me hanging by a thread. Mom didn’t trust anyone in the States anymore. She sent her most trusted aide to take me abroad for treatment. Before leaving, I called Liam to say goodbye. Afraid he’d worry, I didn’t mention the accident. Liam misunderstood. He thought I didn’t trust him and kept questioning me over the phone. “Why are you leaving? I told you I’d do everything to help you.” “Do you think I’m not capable enough?” I never doubted Liam’s heart. But back then, we were young and powerless. I didn’t want to drag him down. And I didn’t even know if I would survive. So I hardened my heart. “My mind is made up.” Liam’s voice choked up. “Zoey, please. Don’t go.” I gripped the phone tightly, forcing out the last words. “Liam, I’m sorry.” At that, Liam laughed bitterly. “Zoey, this is the first time I’ve begged anyone. And the last.” “If we meet again, let’s pretend we’re strangers. Don’t contact me.” The moment the call ended, I couldn’t hold on anymore. Everything went black, and I fell into a long coma. 2 When I regained consciousness, it was twenty days later. I was in Switzerland, my injuries healing. The first news I heard was of my death back in the US. Aunt Helen, who accompanied me, explained: “The moment our private jet landed, your dad’s illegitimate kids spread the news that you died in the crash. They wanted to use public opinion to seize the assets quickly.” “Your mom decided to play along and confirm your death so they’d stop hunting you. It frees her up to deal with them.” “Illegitimate kids have inheritance rights, sure, but they need to be alive to collect.” “Just recover here. Your mom will handle everything back home.” I understood. But thinking of Mom fighting those wolves alone… I had no mind for anything else. I threw myself into rehab, desperate to get back and help her. But my injuries were severe, especially my face. It was practically destroyed. Even with the best medical team Mom hired, I looked different than before. Chloe recognized me immediately because we video chatted often. I linked arms with her. “Then let’s keep it a secret.” No one stays in the same place for five years. Let the past stay in the past. 3 Chloe didn’t take me home immediately. Instead, she drove me to a cemetery in Upstate New York. She pointed to a tombstone with my name on it, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. “Look at this guy. Said he didn’t love you, but burned paper money for you for five years straight.” “Said he loved you, but dates the heiress of the Vance family. Heard they’re close to tying the knot. I’ll take you to crash their wedding feast.” I didn’t speak, staring at the hyacinths in front of the grave. My favorite flower. This deception seemed to have fooled only Liam. What was he thinking when he heard I died? I shook my head, chuckling at myself. He has a new life now. Why dwell on it? The Vance heiress must be a great girl. Leaving the cemetery, Chloe chattered non-stop. “You’ve been gone five years. The city’s changed so much, right?” “Our old school area is all high-rises now.” “I have a list on my phone of all the best spots I’ve vetted personally.” “I don’t care, you have to come out for a drink with me tonight.” So, without even dropping off my luggage, I was dragged to a bar. As soon as we sat down, she whispered conspiratorially: “You’ve been a nun for years. Want me to order two male models for you to play with tonight?” My first instinct was to refuse, shaking my head vigorously. Chloe ignored me. “Relax, the quality has gone way up in the last two years. Satisfaction guaranteed.” I was shocked. Looks like she does this often. Meeting my gaze, Chloe shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that. You think I’m silly enough to believe in true love like you?” Knowing Chloe wanted it, I didn’t stop her. 4 People really do change. Five years ago, Chloe hadn’t even been in a serious relationship. Now she was handling two male models with ease. Afraid she’d get drunk and taken advantage of, I didn’t drink much. Even my bathroom break was a speed run. But in my rush, I ran smack into a wall of muscle coming out of the restroom. I rubbed my head, muttering, “Who has a chest hard as a wall?” I looked up and froze. It was Liam. How… how is this coincidental? The man opposite me saw my face and froze too. Recovering, he grabbed my wrist, voice uncertain. “Zoey?” I didn’t really want to acknowledge him, but since I was recognized, I braced myself to say hi. But before I could smile, Liam threw me to the ground. His expression was terrifyingly cold, as if he didn’t know me at all. “Who allowed you to get plastic surgery to look like her? Did Layla Vance send you? To test me?” “Do you think I’m that easy?” A bloodthirsty glint flashed in his eyes. He turned to his bodyguards. “Ruined her face.” Pinned down by Liam’s bodyguards, I couldn’t believe it. How did the guy I haven’t seen in years turn into a criminal? Whether I’m the real Zoey or not, this is illegal! Why did Liam become like this? My limbs were immobilized, my jaw held tight. Someone approached me with a knife. The whole time, I stared into Liam’s eyes. Just as the blade was about to touch my face, Liam closed his eyes and spoke. “Forget it. Next time you appear in front of me, you won’t be so lucky.” They left quickly. Still shaken, I looked at the corner. There was a security camera. I pulled out my phone without hesitation. “911? I want to report a threat and assault.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386515”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My favorite idol got canceled, and I was sobbing in an internet café. The hot guy next to me lost his game and ripped off his headset in frustration. “What the hell are you crying for? I’ll win the next round. I’ll be your man.” And just like that, I found myself nervously watching him play, terrified he’d lose. 1 This guy had a “player” face—sharp, aggressive, and dangerously handsome. He looked like trouble. I recognized him. Caleb Rivers, the heartthrob from the art school next door. Someone I would never cross paths with in a million years was now offering to be my man? Talk about a pie falling from the sky—and a sweet one at that! In the middle of the game, he “died” once. during the respawn countdown, he glanced sideways at me, his gaze lazy and tired. That look seemed to say: Relax, I’m definitely going to be your man. Finally, the screen flashed VICTORY. I got so excited I couldn’t help myself and grabbed his arm. “Bro, you won!” I realized how forward I was being as soon as I said it. But hey, I’m a sucker for good looks. A little lack of reserve is normal. The man leaned back in his chair, headset hanging loosely around his neck, his tone casual. “So, are we dating for real?” He said it with a smile, not quite a question, but not quite a statement either. “Wait… didn’t you say it?” My voice was timid, but inside, I was already cursing him out. Just then, four men in suits walked up behind us. They looked like bodyguards. The leader nodded slightly. “Mr. Rivers, if you’ve had enough fun, it’s time to go home.” “…” What is this? This vibe was giving “Domineering CEO drags his little wife home.” I couldn’t help but look at the guy next to me. Drop-dead gorgeous, but frowning with impatience. He turned to meet my gaze for half a second, then suddenly smirked. “Can’t I even say a few words to my girlfriend without you interfering?” “…” I blinked. He had already taken my hand. His palm was warm, sending a tingle straight to my racing heart. The bodyguard was clearly stunned. “Of course, sir. We wouldn’t dare.” “…” Caleb didn’t say another word. He just pulled me along and walked out. 2 Standing on the street corner, my thoughts slowly returned. My idol got canceled, but I got a boyfriend out of it? Thank you, cancel culture! Caleb let go of my hand, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with his head tilted to the side. Smoke drifted from his pale hand. He had this undeniable bad-boy aura. “Crying that hard over a breakup?” he asked. I wanted to explain, but it felt unnecessary. “Have you always…” I swallowed, “liked me?” With a move like that, it was hard not to misunderstand. Caleb took a drag, chuckled lightly, and stubbed out the cigarette on a trash can. He didn’t say anything, which felt like a silent admission. He really had a secret crush on me! I felt a sudden pang of guilt. “I’ll take responsibility for you.” “…” I don’t know which part tickled his funny bone, but his shoulders shook with laughter, muscles flexing under his white tee. “Babe, you really are clueless.” He grabbed my hand again. “Hungry? Let’s get some food.” I hadn’t eaten much for lunch, so I was actually starving. On the way, we ran into a few of his friends. “Yo, Caleb, who’s this?” “You turned down Vanessa for this innocent little bunny?” “Where are your bodyguards? How come they aren’t tailing you today?” I’ve always been a well-behaved girl. Hearing these guys from a different crowd talking about me made my cheeks burn. Caleb’s tone was light. He took a cigarette offered by a friend and twirled it in his fingers. “Why would they follow me? To watch us hold hands? Or to watch us…” He didn’t finish because I slapped his shoulder in embarrassment. I guessed what he was going to say and glared at him. Caleb raised an eyebrow and gave me a meaningful smile. This scene caused the guys opposite us to hoot and holler. “Since when is Caleb whipped?” “…” Caleb didn’t linger. He laughed, cursed them out, and dragged me away. 3 We found a dessert shop. I have a serious sweet tooth. I took a bite of a waffle and peeked at him, only to lock eyes. He hadn’t touched his food. I quickly lowered my head. A few seconds later, I heard a faint chuckle by my ear. “Why are you blushing?” His voice was cool but laced with a smile that made my heart flutter. I wiped my hands. “Why do you keep staring at me?” “I’m looking at my own girlfriend. Got a problem with that?” My face turned even redder. I changed the subject. “Why do those bodyguards follow you?” He stirred his coffee absentmindedly. A few seconds later, he looked up at me lazily, clearly up to no good. “To be honest, babe, I’m sick.” “…” I stared at him, stunned. “What kind of sickness?” He didn’t answer directly, looking away. “I do like you, but I don’t want to hold you back. So maybe we should just…” His tone was pitiful. Paired with that handsome face, it triggered my savior complex instantly. In that moment, I was Mother Teresa. I put my hand over his. “Caleb Rivers, don’t worry. I won’t abandon you.” A flicker of stiffness crossed his brow, but then he laughed out loud and held my hand back. “Glad to hear it.” 4 The news of Caleb dating spread to every campus confession page by the next day. “Holy sht, my crush is taken?”* “Help! How does this girl compare to Vanessa? She looks like such a ‘pick-me’…” “…” The words “pick-me” kept replaying in my head. I was so mad I threw my phone. Just one photo and they decided I was a “pick-me” girl? “Summer, tell me, how did you hook Caleb?” My best friend, Lila, whispered, leaning in. I raised an eyebrow. “He confessed to me.” Silence. Lila laughed. “You think I’m stupid? Caleb just rejected the campus queen next door, and then confessed to you?” She switched to a fawning smile. “Get to know him better, introduce his friends to me. Keep the good stuff in the family.” “…” I brushed her off and went to find Caleb. The basketball court stands were packed with girls. Oh, and the four bodyguards standing on the sidelines. “Caleb, your girlfriend is here,” someone said. I looked in that direction. He was wearing a black tee and gray sweatpants, his features sharp and cold. He was wiping sweat with a towel. He was tall. He walked towards me, towel in hand, the muscles in his neck and shoulders on full display. “What’s up?” His tone was casual. I lowered my head. They called me a “pick-me,” right? Fine, I’ll show them a pick-me. Without thinking, I hugged him. 5 Boys hooted around us, enjoying the drama. A girl in the stands stood up and left. His waist was really firm. My ears burned, and I couldn’t focus on anything else. I looked up at him and saw his Adam’s apple bob slowly. Caleb looked down, his hand resting on my waist. “Don’t start. I’m sweaty.” I shook my head, looking aggrieved, forcing tears into my eyes. “They called me a pick-me.” Caleb looked uncomfortable and clicked his tongue. “How did I end up with such a crybaby girlfriend?” Suddenly, a basketball flew from the next court. I instinctively shrank into his arms. He raised a hand and intercepted the ball effortlessly. Frowning, his tone unchanged: “Who called you that?” That move was so hot I was dazed. “Just… online.” Caleb nodded. “Got it.” “…” That’s it? I poked his wrist. “Lunch together?” Caleb didn’t speak. His gaze remained calm. He glanced behind me, his voice lazy. “Sure.” After he showered, he naturally took my hand. He looked at the bodyguards nearby. “We’re going on a date. You coming too?” The leader hesitated for a few seconds, then shook his head.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386531”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I snagged the city’s most eligible billionaire heir with nothing but a seven-dollar latte. That day, when a handsome guy walked into the coffee shop asking to “borrow” a drink just to take a photo, the entire room went silent. I was the only one who handed mine over. My best friend, Mia, was quick to grab my arm, whispering, “Don’t do it. Guy’s probably a nutcase or a scammer.” I didn’t think it was a big deal. The guy shot me a look of genuine gratitude, took my cup, and started filming a video on his phone. “4 PM. Afternoon tea time. Living the affluent life in this clean, high-society circle. A seven-dollar Starbucks latte—an absolute daily necessity for someone of my stature.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the surrounding customers were stunned. A split second later, the shop erupted in laughter. “No way,” someone snickered. “Can’t afford his own coffee, so he borrows someone else’s to flex online? That’s a new low.” Mia threw her hands up helplessly. “See? told you not to lend it. He’s just using your drink to fake a lifestyle.” The guy finished filming, handed the coffee back to me, and spoke with a clean, sincere voice. “Thanks. You really saved me there.” The murmurs and mockery around us were getting louder. I felt a pang of sympathy and, on impulse, blurted out: “I have a coupon. Do you want me to order one for you?” I paused, then added, “You look like you really want some coffee.” The guy stood tall, completely unbothered by the crowd. A smile played on his lips. “No time to drink it right now. How about we exchange contacts? I’ll treat you next time, deal?” I was about to pull up my QR code when Mia grabbed my hand again, anxious. “Don’t add him. Use your head, Serena. Pretty faces are the best liars.” But this time, I ignored her. almost as if guided by a ghost, I scanned his code. “Okay. See you next time.” “See you.” He turned and walked away on long, model-esque legs. I watched his retreating figure, then took a sip of my coffee. Mia was still complaining beside me. “You, seriously. You’re too innocent. You’re going to get played one day. You need to keep your guard up.” Mia didn’t know. That “scammer” was Lucas Sterling. The heir to the Sterling empire. The richest, most untouchable scion in the entire elite circle. 2 Inside a private hotel suite, Lucas Sterling tore off his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa, his face twisted in disgust. “That Truth or Dare challenge was ridiculous. Who came up with ‘borrow a stranger’s drink to film a flex video’? It was humiliating.” The room erupted in laughter. “Hey, you lost the game, Lucas! Sebastian had to go film a breakup video by the elevators earlier. We’re all suffering here.” “Come on, let’s see the video!” The group huddled around the phone screen. “I’m dying! Lucas, look at that smug expression. You look so punchable, it’s incredible.” “Wait, who’s the girl in the frame? She’s actually really pretty.” Hearing this, the tips of Lucas’s ears turned a faint shade of pink. His fingers absently traced the rim of his glass. “Just a kind stranger. The whole coffee shop was staring, and she was the only one willing to lend me her drink.” The boys immediately started jeering. “Oho? Do I detect a little crush?” Lucas rolled his eyes at them, glancing down at our chat interface. “Get lost. Stop talking nonsense.” 3 Two days ago, I learned the truth about my birth. I was the fake heiress of the Joyner family. They had found their biological daughter. My adoptive parents gave me an ultimatum: leave with dignity, or be thrown out without it. Today was the deadline. I silently packed my suitcase. Dragging my heavy feet to the door, I found my path blocked by Chloe Joyner. “Don’t even think about taking anything that belongs to this family,” she said, her face twisted with arrogance. She kicked my suitcase over, sending it sprawling. She rummaged through it, snatching up the bracelets, necklaces, and jewelry the Joyners had given me over the years, piling them onto the floor. Only my messy clothes remained. “I don’t want the clothes you’ve worn. Take those rags and get the hell out.” I looked toward the sofa. My parents sat there, watching everything unfold, making no move to stop her. My brother, Xavier, who used to dote on me, sat with his laptop, typing away. He didn’t even spare me a glance. Humiliation burned in my chest. I silently repacked my clothes. I took one last look at them and said, enunciating every word: “I will never, ever come back.” Even if they begged me on their knees one day, my heart would not soften. I was temporarily crashing at Mia’s place. She was applying makeup in the mirror, comforting me between strokes of mascara. “Oh, don’t be so sad. Isn’t it fun living with me? Just the two of us. As long as my parents aren’t home, no one will bother us.” It wasn’t a long-term solution. Mia accepted me, but her parents didn’t welcome a fallen heiress. Mia always said I was innocent, but in reality, she was the pure one. I knew how to calculate better than anyone. A fire burned deep within me. I wanted everyone who hurt me to regret it. Meeting Lucas Sterling at the coffee shop yesterday wasn’t just an accident; it was an opportunity. Lucas had just returned from studying abroad. His heart was still sincere; he hadn’t been corrupted by the cynical playboy lifestyle of the local elite yet. Maybe he could help me achieve what I wanted. Or maybe, I could use him. I thanked God for giving me a beautiful face. It might be the only card I had left to play. 4 On the third day, Lucas sent me a message. Lucas: [Does that offer to let me treat you to coffee still stand? I’m craving it now. You have to let me pay this time.] I stared at the screen, the corners of my mouth lifting. Serena: [Of course it stands. Same place. 4 PM. I’ll wait for you.] As soon as I walked into the coffee shop, I sensed something was off. Too many people were stealing glances at me. Some held books upside down; others peered over newspapers; a few were blatantly peeking from behind potted plants. Lucas was already waiting. When he saw me enter, he gave a deliberate cough. Immediately, the eavesdroppers straightened up, pretending to be busy. Lucas’s ears were red. I understood instantly. These were his rich friends, here to watch the show. I walked over calmly and sat opposite him. I had worn a white dress today—modest in the front, but with a tasteful open back that hinted at allure. “I haven’t asked your name yet,” I said softly. Lucas seemed nervous. He cleared his throat. “Lu… Luke.” I extended my hand, smiling. “I’m Serena Joyner.” Lucas tried to maintain his cool-guy persona, but the flush spreading across his ears betrayed him. Around us, his friends were grinning like idiots. I caught Lucas mouthing “Get lost” in their direction when he thought I wasn’t looking. It seemed that cup of coffee was a worthy investment. He was easier to approach than I had imagined. After coffee, we parted ways. I stood at the bus stop, and faintly, I heard Lucas roaring in the distance: “Who told you guys to follow me?! Who?! I wanted a private date, do you understand? Five or six third wheels… are you trying to keep me single forever?” I waited for the bus. It took a long time. I used to have a driver. The disparity in life stung. Right now, Chloe must be living the good life in my old home. It started to rain. By the time I got back, I was soaked. Mia handed me a towel. “Where have you been running around all day? You’re drenched.” She was so kind. So attentive. My throat tightened, but I held back the tears. I, Serena Joyner, had lived nineteen years, and in the end, all I had was one best friend, a pitiful bank balance, and a nineteen-year-old body. Lucas began messaging me frequently. He shared the mundane trivia of his high-society life. Lucas: [We have banquets every day. So boring. I miss drinking Starbucks with you. Can I invite you again?] In the photos he sent, I saw Chloe. She was surrounded by my parents, holding a champagne flute, laughing brightly. The gala was high-end. He didn’t try to hide his wealth, but he sent a photo of his long legs stretched out. Lucas: [Stood for so long. So tired.] I played along. Serena: [Your legs are so long. I thought you looked tall that day. Are you over 6 feet?] Lucas: [6’1″. Barefoot.] I could imagine him sitting on a sofa somewhere, smiling smugly at his phone. 5 Some people are truly easy to coax. But some people don’t need to do any coaxing to get everything I never had. Like Chloe. She had a terrible temper and didn’t hide it, yet she was spoiled rotten. I was different. My father had raised me with strict discipline. Just as he was about to publicly introduce me to society, Chloe returned and seamlessly took my place. I only found out a few days ago that my parents had known for a long time I wasn’t their biological daughter. No wonder when I got perfect scores or reached Level 10 in piano, despite my desperate efforts, they were never that happy. My brother, who used to love me most, now only had eyes for Chloe. I was the unwanted one. Except for Mia, nobody wanted me. So, I had to fight for myself. Lucas: [It’s a good thing I have you to talk to, otherwise this party would kill me.] Serena: [What party? Can’t you skip it?] Lucas: [It’s the inheritance ceremony for the daughter of the Joyner Group, Chloe Joyner. Mandatory attendance.] Chloe’s inheritance ceremony? My phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor. Nearly two decades of nurturing couldn’t compare to blood. I knew that. Lucas: [What happened? heard a loud bang.] Serena: [Dropped my phone. It hurts a little. But why do you have to go? A generic guy like you getting invited to such a big event?] Lucas is typing… Lucas: [Hehe, I snuck in as a waiter. Do you want anything to eat? I can steal you a slice of cake.] Serena: [You’re amazing, sneaking in like that. Can you bring me a piece of strawberry cake? I’m craving it.] Lucas: [No problem.] We set a time to meet. I looked at my cracked screen, heart aching. I couldn’t just buy a new phone whenever I wanted anymore. Life was tight. I had to speed up the plan. I decided that during this meeting, I would hook Lucas for good. I went to the convenience store to buy a few things. I never made it. A familiar Porsche Cayenne pulled up in front of the store. My brother, Xavier Joyner, stepped out. He opened the passenger door and helped out Chloe, who was dressed like a princess. “Xavier, this place is so run-down and dirty. I don’t want to be here.” Xavier gently held her hand, fixing her slightly messy, diamond-encrusted hair clip. “We’re just here to warn Mia Thorne not to meddle. Bear with it, Chloe.” Mia Thorne was my best friend. The girl who took me in. My eyes turned red. Warn her? Because she gave me shelter? Xavier… Brother… are you really going to be this cruel? Why?! Because of Chloe? The abandoned daughter is treated like grass to be trampled on. I believed it now. I texted Mia: Serena: [Tell my brother I died in a ditch somewhere. I won’t come to you again. And I won’t interfere with him and his precious sister.] I crouched at the entrance of the alley. I waited a long time until that familiar Cayenne drove away. Mia’s family was well-off, but they were constrained by the massive influence of the Joyner family. When I walked into Mia’s house to get my things, her father looked at me coldly. Her mother looked disgusted. Mia stood awkwardly in the middle. “Serena, I…” I forced a smile and grabbed my suitcase. Before leaving, I bowed deeply to them. “I am very sorry and very grateful. I won’t disturb you again.” 6 I was completely alone. I squatted on the curb, my suitcase beside me, counting the teardrops smashing onto the clean concrete, blooming into dark water stains. I checked my phone. 99+ unread messages. I thought it would be Xavier regretting his actions, or Chloe mocking me. Unexpectedly, it was Lucas. I had almost forgotten about him. Lucas: [Serena, I’m here. 30 minutes early.] Lucas: [Holy crap, I just saw an ant choke on food, and two other ants patted its back. Nature is wild.] Two hours later. Lucas: [Are you here yet?] Lucas: [Girls take time to do makeup, I know. Take your time.] Lucas: [I dressed really handsome today. Hehe.] Lucas: [Bought you ice cream. Waiting to eat it with you.] Another hour later. Lucas: [Where are you?] Lucas: [Don’t want to talk to me anymore?] Lucas: [The ice cream melted. I ate it.] Lucas: [Serena, next time I’ll take you to Starbucks instead, okay?] Several missed calls. Lucas: [Where are you? Did something happen? I’m waiting right here. Reply with a 1.] I messily wiped the tears from my face. Serena: [Sorry, Luke. Something happened at home. I have to cancel.] Serena: [Eat the cake for me.] Serena: [Sorry for making you wait so long.] I dragged my suitcase, walking aimlessly. If I asked to stay at Lucas’s place, he surely wouldn’t refuse. But… I didn’t want to. Running to him now would make me cheap. Being abandoned by parents, being driven to extinction by the brother who used to love me… it hurt too much. Mia called me. I composed myself and answered with a smile. “I’m staying at a hotel, a nice suite. I’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, right?” Mia was silent for a moment. “Serena Joyner, you are sitting on the curb. I am watching you.” “My parents are uncontrollable, but I am me. I can help you.” I turned around. 7 Mia was staring at me. She placed a key on top of my suitcase. “My dad gave me this apartment key years ago. Serena, stand up.” Nineteen years old. A confusing, ignorant age. Yet Mia stood before me like an adult. It made me feel suddenly heartbroken and brave. “Thank you.” She helped me pull the suitcase. “Don’t get polite with me.” On the way to the apartment, sitting in the car, I saw a figure sitting on a bench by the park. A small cake box rested on his long legs. He was staring at his phone screen. Unblinking. Lucas. The apartment Mia’s father rented long-term hadn’t been cleaned in ages. Mia stayed and helped me scrub the place for three hours. She was a rich girl too. Neither of us was good at this. I wanted to hire a cleaner, but looking at my empty balance, I closed my phone. Lucas stopped spamming messages, but the count was already high. After cleaning, Mia left. “I have to go. Can’t stay out overnight. Call me if you need anything.” “Okay.” I sat on the bed, hugging a pillow. I used to have strict curfews too. My parents never let me stay out. But now, even if I invited eight men to this rental, my parents and brother wouldn’t spare me a glance. After all, Chloe was their real princess. I started a video call with Lucas. He practically bounced off his bed in excitement. “I thought you hated me. Thought you were ignoring me.” “You said something happened at home? Do you need help?” “Just ask. I can do anything.” “You lent me a coffee. I should repay you.” “I really thought you were ghosting me.” One second he was posting “Heartbroken” on his feed, the next he was sending “Absolutely Not” happy dog memes. Only someone raised in a loving family and a loving environment could grow up like this. Strangers. A vast difference in status. A person tells you something happened at home and doesn’t reply for hours, then calls. Any other rich heir would think this was a setup. A scheme. Instead of saying: “Whatever help you need, I can give it.” I laid my head on the new $7 pillow. It was soft. No different from the $1,500 pillows at home that were replaced monthly. I looked at Lucas’s eyes. They had the purity and brightness of a recent college grad. “Luke, why did you call me so many times?” “Because I was worried about you.” I replied, “You’re so warm-hearted. Are you this concerned about everyone?” He got a bit flustered, even annoyed. “Only worried about you.” “Really?” I swung my legs playfully. Lucas: “Because to me, you’re different.” I looked into his eyes. “Luke, I want to be your girlfriend. Will you allow it?” Ten, nine, eight… If he didn’t agree, I would give up on the seduction plan. Rich kids aren’t stupid. In the end, I’d only play myself. I’d be tossed on the ground like trash. “Serena Joyner? The arrogant ex-heiress? Just playing around.” “Miss Joyner, you’re fun to play with.” Followed by laughter. My pride wouldn’t allow it. Four, three… I was about to hang up. He finally snapped out of his shock, stuttering, his ears turning instantly crimson. “R-really? Can I? “I do!! I mean, yes!!” I smiled from the bottom of my heart, the exhaustion of the day finally washing over me. “Go to sleep, Luke.” 8 When I woke up the next day, I realized the video call had been running all night. It only cut off when my phone died. Since Lucas accepted me, I had to re-enter his circle as his girlfriend. The Joyner family was big. But not bigger than the Sterlings. He added me to his “Bros” group chat. Lucas: [Ahem. Introducing… my girlfriend.] Serena: [Hello everyone. I’m Serena Joyner.] These were his friends from abroad, so none of them knew me. But soon enough, they would know I was the fake heiress kicked out by the Joyners. We went on a date. I went on an empty stomach. My bank cards were frozen, digital payments locked. All I had was $300 in cash. Chloe had left it for me. She had smashed my piggy bank. “Fifteen thousand dollars? Haha. Serena, did you think you could take this? This is mine.” She threw three hundred dollars at me. “Don’t say we treated you poorly.” “This is what you deserve. You occupied my nest for so many years. Serena, you owe me.” My parents watched from the side. No one stopped her. Chloe threw my clothes and shoes out of the bedroom. Then she took my jewelry, bags, and savings. My brother, Xavier, patted her head. “Leaving her three hundred proves that Chloe is truly kind and sensible.” That day, I rushed out of the house and found Mia. She took me for coffee to clear my mind. Lucas stood at the door asking, “Can anyone lend me a coffee?” I wanted to grab that chance. So I raised my hand.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386547”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day the real heiress came back, I was kicked to the curb. My adoptive parents insisted I experience the “hardships” their biological daughter had suffered for twenty years. Honestly? What hardships? To a true hustler like me, this isn’t suffering—it’s just a consumption downgrade. And let me tell you, I am the queen of playing a losing hand. 1. Midnight. New York City. A torrential downpour. I stood outside the Sterling family’s massive wrought-iron gates in the Hamptons. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and the phone practically glued to my hand. The real heiress had been home for less than two hours before I was tossed out like yesterday’s trash. Lana Sterling said she’d eaten bitterness for twenty-two years in my place, so now it was my turn to taste poverty. The heavy gates slammed shut. The cold, icy rain slapped my face indiscriminately. 2. As a corporate slave who had transmigrated into the body of this cannon fodder fake heiress, I’d enjoyed the luxury lifestyle for less than twenty-four hours before being destitute again. I walked around the perimeter of the estate and found a dry spot under a first-floor balcony. Directly above me was my “brother,” Luke’s room. “Don’t worry,” Lana’s voice drifted down from the drainpipe. “Her pockets are cleaner than her face right now. Once she tastes a bit of hardship, she’ll realize the benefits of wealth. She’ll be crawling back to warm your bed in no time.” Tsk. For a multi-million dollar mansion, the soundproofing was garbage. I knew it. Luke, who had been getting handsy with me all afternoon, looked like he wanted to keep things “in the family.” That’s why he looked so moody at dinner. He wanted to keep me as a caged canary. Joke’s on him. To a rich kid like Luke, owning only one penthouse is considered “poverty.” But to a true grinder like me? As long as I have two hundred bucks in my digital wallet, I can survive for two weeks. Plus, I still had about twelve grand left from this month’s allowance in my account. To the Sterlings, that’s ice cream money. To normal people? That’s survival money for a year if you’re smart. They thought they were knocking me into the dirt. To me? I was just switching to budget mode. 3. Twenty minutes later, my Uber arrived. I’d called a premium ride—might as well enjoy the last perks of the high life. The driver held an umbrella for me and opened the door. It was worth the 20% surge pricing. I never understood why heroines in dramas always insist on walking in the rain until they get a high fever after getting kicked out. Is it a kink? I didn’t have money for medical bills. Life is hard enough without self-inflicted torture. 4. The driver dropped me off at a budget motel. Fifty bucks a night. I took a hot shower, changed into the hotel robe, and sent my couture clothes to the front desk for dry cleaning. Before bed, I downed two packets of Emergen-C just to be safe. When you’re out on your own, your health is your only capital. If no one loves you, you have to love yourself. 5. I woke up feeling refreshed. I put on my freshly dry-cleaned clothes and headed to a nearby discount outlet. I dove into the clearance bins, haggled like a demon, and spent a hundred bucks on four t-shirts, three pairs of shorts, and a pair of canvas sneakers. As I left, the shop owner grumbled while bagging my stuff. “Girl, you’re dressed in designer gear but you haggle over pennies? Fine, take it at cost. I’ll even throw in a nice shopping bag.” Exactly what I needed. How else was I going to sell this Louis Vuitton outfit for a good price without a decent bag? It was a shame about the lambskin shoes I was wearing. Rich people stuff is fragile; one day of walking on pavement and the soles were scuffed. No resale value there. But my phone case? That was encrusted with Swarovski crystals. An $800 phone inside a $3,000 case. If I hadn’t checked the “shopping history” of the original owner, I wouldn’t have believed money could be burned like that. And yet, the original owner of this body thought she couldn’t survive and was planning to go work at a bar? Brain damage, clearly. 6. I spun around like a top all morning and finally liquidated every valuable item on my person. Now, nothing on my body cost more than $20. I looked like a walking ad for Amazon Basics. Comfortable. This was the lifestyle I was used to. I walked with a spring in my step, carrying a balance of nearly $10,000. I was rich! I needed to treat myself. I found a hole-in-the-wall noodle joint in Chinatown. Not much meat, but the sauce was savory, the cucumber crisp, and the noodles hand-pulled. Fifteen bucks for a huge bowl, and free refills on noodles. I hadn’t eaten properly since the night before. I slurped it down, cleaning the bowl until even the last bit of minced meat was gone. I let out a loud, satisfied burp. Before I sold the clothes, I hadn’t dared to eat—didn’t want to risk a stain lowering the resale value. Wearing gold and silver makes me nervous. Budget living makes me free. I guess I’m just not built for fine dining. 7. That afternoon, I bought a cheap prepaid SIM card and swapped my iPhone for a $200 Android. The familiar operating system felt like home. Ah, sturdy. If I dropped this, I wouldn’t even cry. I checked my chat history. The last two days were filled with mockery and sneers, plus a few “offers” from rich second-generation jerks asking if I needed a sugar daddy. Get lost. Money really rots the brain. The original girl had terrible taste in friends; not a single ride-or-die among them. The most disgusting text came from Luke. He asked me if I had “learned my lesson yet.” Lesson? It’s a free country. Did he think he could hang me from the city walls? I typed “F— off,” hit send, and blocked him. Learn my lesson? Eat dirt. 8. After liquidating everything, I checked out of the motel carrying a large black trash bag. Inside was my entire life: my cheap clothes, plus the disposable toothbrush and slippers from the hotel. Manhattan hotels were too pricey. I decided to move out to Queens or maybe Jersey. The only reason I hadn’t left the city yet was that I needed to pick up my college diploma. Before I transmigrated here, I had dropped out after middle school to work in a factory. I was a fish that slipped through the net of compulsory education. Now, I was about to be a college graduate with a degree. Just thinking about it made me excited. Modern novels have zero logic when torturing cannon fodder. Why would a girl with a bachelor’s degree go work at a shady bar just to get humiliated by the male lead? Does she have a degradation kink? 9. I went back to school the day after graduation. I did it on purpose. Seeing Lana’s triumphant, gloating face once was enough. I didn’t need a sequel. We were technically roommates, though I had only slept in the dorms maybe twice. During school, I lived in a luxury apartment the Sterlings bought near campus, complete with a maid. It drove Lana, who was working part-time jobs, crazy with jealousy. Classic “compare and despair” plot device. It was one of the reasons she hated me. But it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t even my biological parents’ fault. They were migrant workers who just happened to give birth in the hospital room next to the VIP suite on the same day a business rival of the Sterlings decided to swap the babies. My bio-parents were poor, but they did their best. They raised Lana well enough to get into the same top-tier university as me before they both passed away from illness. I didn’t understand why the Sterling family felt the need to humiliate those two dead old people. What was their crime? Is being poor a sin? 10. I went to the academic advisor’s office alone to collect my degree. I wasn’t going to let Lana lead a mob to humiliate me at the ceremony. Graduation is just a ritual. The principal moving my tassel from right to left wouldn’t add a single zero to my bank account. Why humiliate myself for people I’d never see again? My advisor looked at me with concern. “Lexi, if you need anything, let me know.” “I’m fine. Thank you.” Aside from the insane Sterling family, the rest of the world was pretty normal. I really was fine. Compared to the heiress inheriting a billion-dollar empire, sure, I had fallen from heaven to hell. But compared to 90% of fresh graduates drowning in student loans with no job lined up? I had cash in my pocket. “Save your help for someone who needs it. I got this!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386563”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I transmigrated into a cliché, high-society romance novel. The heroine’s family had just gone bankrupt, and she was being publicly humiliated by the villain. With a wicked smirk, the villain drawled, “Kiss me. One million dollars.” I rushed forward, threw my arms around his neck, and smeared his face with my lipstick. Then, playing the part of a sweet, innocent girl, I cooed, “Oh, darling, I hope I don’t kiss you into bankruptcy.” 1 On the 7,001st day of being so broke I considered reporting my own poverty to the police, I was suddenly transported into a book. It was a high-society Mary Sue novel, and I had become the young heiress whose family had just lost everything. But whether the family was rich or broke didn’t really matter. This was a Mary Sue novel, after all. The default setting was that every man alive was hopelessly in love with me. Having read the entire book, I could best describe it as: The Heroine and Her Army of Simps. The man in front of me, however, was the one exception. The only man in the entire book who wasn’t a total simp. He was also the main villain—Tim Thorne. Tim leaned back in his chair, the picture of lazy arrogance, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His eyes swept over me for a moment before he spoke, his voice dripping with scorn. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Our dear Miss Monroe.” The others in the private room took their cue, chiming in with glee. “The Monroe Corporation collapsed, didn’t it? I bet the debt collectors have worn a path to your door.” “Life without money must be tough.” “Hey, we were classmates once, Mia. If you beg me, maybe I’ll spare you a few bucks.” Tim let out a short, sharp laugh, flicking ash from his cigarette with careless grace. “What do you say? Feel like begging?” The laughter in the room grew louder. “Alright, how about this,” Tim said, as if making a grand concession. “Begging is probably too hard for you. How about kissing?” His gaze swept across the room. “Kiss anyone in here. Including me.” “One kiss,” he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips, “is worth a million dollars.” The room erupted in cheers. I could see it in their eyes—the glee, the tension, the eager anticipation. And in Tim’s eyes, pure, cold indifference. In the original novel, the heroine, unable to bear the humiliation, stormed out in a tearful rage. But I wasn’t the original heroine. I was broke. Looking back on the 7,001 days of my previous life, had there ever been an easier way to make money? Absolutely not. With all eyes on me, I walked straight toward Tim. I didn’t just stop in front of him; I sat down right on his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. Jaws around the room practically hit the floor. I looked into Tim’s eyes and whispered, “Are you serious about this?” He raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” Well, then. He couldn’t blame me for what came next. I cupped his face, held his head, and, like I was using a rubber stamp, eagerly began plastering his face with kisses. With each kiss, I chanted silently in my head: A million. Another million. And another million. The room grew quieter and quieter, until the only sound was the wet smack of my lips against his skin. …It was actually pretty embarrassing. A wave of belated awkwardness washed over me, but I wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. I summoned my courage, planted a few more for good measure, and then finally let him go. Tim was completely dumbfounded. In fact, everyone in the room was dumbfounded. You could have heard a pin drop. I slid off his lap, calmly smoothed down my dress, and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. Tim stared at me, sputtering. “You—you—you—” Afraid he was about to back out of the deal, I put on my most innocent, doe-eyed expression. “Oh, darling,” I cooed, “I’m not going to kiss you into bankruptcy, am I?” “Don’t be ridiculous.” Tim snapped back to his usual arrogant self in a second. “You could glue your lips to my face for the rest of your life, and I could still afford it!” “…” I gave him a token round of applause. “Great. Pay up, then.” Tim looked away, his perfectly sculpted fingers yanking at the collar of his shirt. He pulled out his phone and made a call to his assistant, his voice a mask of nonchalance. “Bring me the checkbook.” He looked utterly ridiculous, trying to act cool with bright red lipstick smeared all over his face. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. While we waited for the check, Tim suddenly asked, “How many times did you kiss me? Do you remember?” I glanced at him. He quickly looked away. “No reason. Just, you know, for the final amount.” I shook my head. He turned to the others. They all shook their heads too. A look of exasperated resignation crossed his face. “Fine. We’ll have to check the security footage.” In the end, Tim watched the security footage five times. Only after this meticulous verification did he finally sign and hand me the check. “…” Unbelievable. He was a cheapskate, too. 2 I walked out of that room clutching a check for thirty-five million dollars, my mind reeling. Money had never come this easily. I was half-convinced I was dreaming. Just as I was about to pinch myself, a voice echoed in my head: [Tim Thorne Affection: 5%.] I froze. “What was that?” The voice, which I now recognized as a System, chirped excitedly: [Once Tim Thorne’s affection for you reaches 100%, you can return to your original world!] “No! I don’t want to go back!” I protested. I was dirt poor in my old world. Here, I just made thirty-five million dollars in five minutes. It was a no-brainer. Besides, I was kind of looking forward to the romance part of this novel. A whole cast of handsome men falling all over me? That sounded way better than any power fantasy. The System hesitated. [Well, um…] An idea struck me. “I just won’t try to win him over. If his affection stays at 5% forever, then I can’t ever go back, right?” The System stammered again. [Well, I, uh…] I mentally high-fived myself for my genius. [Ding! Rules have been updated!] The System’s voice was suddenly cheerful. [When Tim Thorne’s affection reaches 100%, you will be able to stay in this world forever!] I was silent for a full five seconds before I found my voice. “Are you kidding me?” The System replied mischievously, [The rules are the rules! The mission timer is one month. Good luck!~] “…” Sensing my despair, the System added: [Thirty-five million dollars, though.] That snapped me out of it. There was nothing more terrifying than being poor. I had to conquer Tim Thorne within a month. But as I thought about the original plot, my head started to ache. Tim was an arrogant, self-obsessed narcissist. How the hell was I supposed to make him fall in love with me in thirty days? “Wait, how did his affection go up by 5% just now?” [He was watching the security footage.] “…” I pleaded carefully, “Is there any way we can make him watch it for, say, three days straight?” [That would depend on his personal willingness.] Apparently, Tim’s personal willingness was quite strong. By the time I went to the bank the next day to cash the check, his affection level had already climbed to 13%. According to the System, he’d spent the entire night watching the footage. I remembered the look of disdain on his face in the club and couldn’t help but scoff. Heh. Men. The check cleared, and my bank account swelled by thirty-five million. I was just wondering where to go on a massive shopping spree when my phone rang. It was Tim. His tone was as arrogant and condescending as ever. “I hear our dear Miss Monroe is a little short on cash?” “Get to the point,” I said, my patience already thin. He was silent for a beat. “Pretend to be my girlfriend for a month. Name your price.” I was shocked. I checked with the System. “I don’t remember this happening in the book.” [Correct. The original plot is now completely off the rails. You are free to improvise.] “…” Was this not a golden opportunity falling right into my lap? I was just worrying about how to get close to him. Tim, impatient with my silence, snapped, “What? Not interested?” “I am,” I purred, switching to a soft, gentle tone. “I’m just curious why, that’s all.” “You don’t need to know why,” he said, his voice cold. “All you need to know is that for the next month, you’re my girlfriend.” I played along. “Okay, darling~” He hung up instantly. A moment later, the System’s cool, metallic voice chimed in: [Tim Thorne Affection increased by 2%. Current Affection: 15%.] I scoffed again. Heh. Men. 3 After hanging up, Tim sent me an address. [Come here.] I glanced at it, put my phone away, and hailed a cab to the city’s largest shopping mall. The System was surprised. [You’re not going?] “No rush.” [A reminder: if you fail to complete the mission within one month, you may be expelled from this world.] “I think a guy whose affection goes up by 13% just from watching a security video all night isn’t going to be that hard to win over.” The System went silent. “Besides,” I added, “with a guy like Tim, you can’t be too eager.” The book’s primary description of Tim was “narcissist.” His narcissism bordered on full-blown arrogance. He believed no woman on earth was worthy of him, which was why he kept his distance from them. Even when faced with the novel’s stunningly beautiful original heroine, he remained unmoved. That was how he ended up as the main villain. But after I showed up and aggressively kissed him, he seemed to be having second thoughts. What kind of narcissist gets a 13% affection boost from watching a video of himself all night? Surely he wasn’t falling for his own on-screen persona. My guess was that Tim Thorne liked a woman who took charge. In other words, he might have a bit of a masochistic streak. For the sake of my mission, I decided to test this theory. After a three-hour shopping blitz, I finally remembered the man I’d left hanging. I arranged for the mall to deliver my purchases to the Monroe mansion and then caught another cab to the address Tim had sent. By the time I arrived, the party was already in full swing. I jogged up to Tim, slightly out of breath. “Sorry I’m late.” He shot me a look of disdain. “What took you so long?” “I was picking out a present for you.” I pushed a tie clip and a watch I’d bought into his hands. “It took a while to choose. I hope you like it.” Tim glanced at me, then looked around at his friends. “See? Now do you believe me?” “The ‘goddess’ you all talk about is head over heels for me. Last night she even…” He clicked his tongue, as if annoyed. “But since she clearly adores me, I’ll let it slide.” “She confessed her love to me last night, and I accepted.” Tim took my hand, which was hanging by my side. “Mia is my girlfriend now.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. Clearly, Tim was savoring this moment. Now I understood why he needed me to pretend to be his girlfriend. He wanted to show off. To use me as a trophy. He was the same old narcissist, alright. To test my theory, I decided to play along with his childish game. I lowered my head, feigning shyness, and then peeked up at him from under my lashes. As if overcome with affection, I placed my hands on his shoulders, stood on my tiptoes, and leaned in to kiss him. A light, quick peck on the lips. Tim froze. Then, his cheeks and ears turned a shade of crimson so deep it was visible to the naked eye. He muttered dismissively, “What are you doing? We’re in public,” but I clearly heard the System’s notification: [Tim Thorne Affection increased by 5%. Current Affection: 20%.] I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. This guy definitely liked it rough. 4 For the sake of my mission, I played the part of the perfect, doting girlfriend in front of Tim’s friends, stroking his ego at every turn. He seemed to enjoy it on the surface, but his affection level didn’t budge. Just as I was starting to wonder if brute force was the only way to make progress, Tim pulled me into a secluded corner of the villa. He leaned against the wall, legs casually crossed, arms folded as he studied me. “You’re actually into me, aren’t you?” “…” I figured he didn’t need my real answer, so I went with my gut. “No.” “Stop pretending,” he scoffed, his expression full of contempt. “It’s obvious you’re crazy about me.” I silently cursed him in my head. Narcissist. Tim continued, his voice dripping with arrogance, “I’d advise you not to get too attached. Because… well, you know. I hate you.” “Why?” “You don’t need to know,” he said, ever the tsundere king. “You just need to know that I hate you.” “…” What a psycho. I grumbled to the System, “Why does he hate me?” The System provided the answer: [At the freshman welcome dance, he asked you for the first dance, and you turned him down.] “That’s it?” I was floored by how petty he was. After a few seconds of frustration, another thought struck me. “Wait, I don’t remember that part being in the book!” The book only mentioned that Tim disliked the heroine but never explained why. [Correct. Now that he’s been promoted to the male lead, his character has been more fleshed out.] I muttered “psycho” again, this time aimed at the System. [I can hear you, you know~] I gave a tight, humorless smile. “I was saying it for you. What’s the point of cursing you if you can’t hear it?” […] The other psycho, Tim, was still on his high horse. “I hope you understand that our relationship is just an act. Outside of necessary public appearances, please maintain your distance.” I let out a dry laugh. “Is this a ‘necessary public appearance’?” “No,” he said. I turned to leave. “In that case,” I called over my shoulder, “I’ll start keeping my distance right now.” For the rest of the evening, I didn’t say another word to him. To any onlooker, it would have seemed like we were having a fight. But I was just deliberately provoking him. With a guy like Tim, who had a touch of a submissive streak, you had to give him the cold shoulder sometimes. Let him stew in it, get all worked up, and watch those affection points climb. By the time I’d turned down the seventh guy who tried to chat me up, Tim’s affection level had finally crept up to 27%. As if he couldn’t take it anymore, he marched over to me. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home.” I followed him without a word. I thought that would be the end of the affection gains for the night, but the real drama was just beginning. As we stepped out of the villa, a sleek, black Rolls-Royce pulled up on the sloped driveway. I assumed it was his and started to walk toward it. But then, the back door opened, and a man stepped out. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, his features sharp and cool, exuding an aura of refined elegance. He walked toward us with a steady, mature confidence. I recognized him instantly. He was the original male lead. Liam. He stopped under the lights, his gaze locking onto me. “Mia, come here.” I hesitated, about to take a step, when Tim’s hand suddenly shot out and gripped mine, squeezing tight. His voice was tense, coming from above my head, laced with command. “Mia, don’t you dare go!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386579”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My adopted brother, whom I’ve had a crush on forever, has always been cold to me. I thought he just wasn’t the smiling type. Until one night, I heard his raspy voice calling someone’s name: “Sisi.” Heartbroken, I packed up my pet snake and moved out. Suddenly, floating text comments appeared before my eyes: [Girl, you are killing me! He wasn’t calling a girl’s name! Snakes make a ‘hissing’ sound!] [The Male Lead is never going to hiss again. He’s probably trying to poison himself mute right now.] [Did you seriously not notice that your pet snake and your brother never appear at the same time?] 1 The day I moved out, a crack finally appeared in Liam’s icy facade. He frowned slightly, lifting his eyelids. “Why?” I avoided his gaze, flustered. “I graduated. I can support myself now. It’s not good to keep living at home.” I was adopted by the Landry family. This reason should be reasonable enough. I really couldn’t say the truth. Hearing him call someone else’s name made me feel sad and awkward. I just wanted to run away. Liam has always been a cold, self-restrained person. But that night, when he called “Sisi,” his voice was low and raspy. Like it was soaked in some deep emotion. Just thinking about it still shocks me. My suitcase was packed and sitting by the door. As expected, Liam didn’t ask me to stay. He just opened the door to his study, dropping one sentence: “Don’t forget to take your pet.” He was cold to me, and cold to my pet. He never visited my little snake, let alone touched it. Now, he couldn’t wait to kick it out too. I was heartbroken. I grabbed the snake, terrarium and all, and left alone. 2 The floating comments—like a livestream chat—appeared after I moved into my new apartment. I unpacked my stuff and collapsed on the sofa. My little white snake slowly crawled out of the open terrarium, climbing up my calf. Its cool scales pressed against my bare skin. Like always, I bent down and scooped it up. It climbed up my arm and settled on my shoulder. I started to suspect the mushrooms I fried for lunch weren’t fully cooked. Lines of text started popping up in front of my eyes. [Why did she move out?! My favorite trope of angsty tension under one roof is gone!] [Forget tension, the plot is about to hit the highway and you’re still driving a tricycle.] What are they babbling about? Highway? I just got my driver’s license; I’m not allowed on the highway yet. I looked down and started googling “What to do for mushroom poisoning.” I’ve heard of seeing little green men, but never floating text. While my mind wandered, I switched to WeChat and saw Liam pinned at the top. His profile picture was pure white. The messages stopped a day ago. Me: “Brother, I’m moving out.” Him (replying much later): “Okay.” So perfunctory. I got dumped before we even started dating. I buried my head in my knees, ready to cry my eyes out. I forgot the snake was still on my shoulder. It suddenly slipped into my collar, then stopped. Leaving a cold, slippery sensation. And… a snake tongue that didn’t retract in time. The snake seemed stunned too, freezing in place. My scalp tingled. I frantically fished it out. It still left a faint red mark. Emo mode paused. The text scrolled by rapidly. [Male Lead be like: Sorry, I type slow.] [Female Lead: Stop pretending.] [He wasn’t being perfunctory! You were playing with him at the time; he couldn’t free his hands. He typed that ‘Okay’ with his tail!] [Holy crap! Just joined the stream and it’s already this spicy.] [Liam must be in heaven.] I understood the words, and my face instantly turned red. Is this snake… Liam? He always wears gold-rimmed glasses. Is he a cobra? (Note: ‘Spectacled Cobra’ in Chinese/culture reference) Suspicion: Hallucinations from mushroom poisoning. 3 I put the snake back in the terrarium and wanted to text my best friend. To tell her I might be tripping on mushrooms. My finger swiped, and I saw the messages I sent her last time. Me: “It’s over. I have no chance.” “Liam seems to like someone!” “He even called her ‘Sisi’!” “Sob.” The comments seemed to be peeking at my screen. [Girl, you are killing me! He wasn’t calling a girl’s name! Snakes make a ‘hissing’ sound!] [The Male Lead is never going to hiss again. He’s probably trying to poison himself mute right now.] [Did you seriously not notice that your pet snake and your brother never appear at the same time?] Hey, didn’t I put on a privacy screen protector? I deleted the unsent text. I looked hesitantly at the terrarium by my feet. The white snake was wrapped around a grape vine, head raised, staring quietly at me. It and Liam… really never appeared together. [Question Xu Xian, Understand Xu Xian, Become Xu Xian.] (Reference to the Legend of the White Snake, a man who fell in love with a snake demon) [Try this, feed Liam some realgar wine. If he faints, he’s a snake. If not, he’s a snake demon.] I pursed my lips. I found Liam’s number in my contacts and dialed it. The white snake’s eyes seemed to widen. Then, its tail started rattling. I don’t know the principle behind it, but… I understood. I hung up. 4 That night, I was drawing on my tablet in my room. I actually received a message from Liam first. “Forgot to tell you.” “The snake cousin gave you back then… it’s a rattlesnake.” [Male Lead trying to cover his tracks.] [What rattlesnake rattles with a ringtone sound?] My cousin gave me the snake. In high school, I was stressed and randomly wanted a pet snake. My cousin heard and brought one over. “Home-bred. Different from the ones you buy.” “Long life span, smart, obedient, clingy. Great emotional support.” “Knows to find food when hungry, knows to come home when it rains.” It was true. It understood all my commands. It was clingy, often wrapping around my calf. It slept with me at night. I thought I found the perfect snake. Turns out it was my brother. …It feels really weird. My secret crush and my favorite pet merged into one. Whatever. I can pretend I don’t know. I put down my pen and tablet, opening the door. The white snake had crawled out of the terrarium at some point and was waiting at the door. I hesitated, then squatted and held out my hand. It climbed onto my shoulder and shook its tail. The tail made a shhh-shhh sound, clear as day. [Male Lead trying SO hard to prove he isn’t himself.] [He doesn’t dare let her find out he’s a pervert.] [That is a Western Diamondback Rattlesnake. In the US, they bite more people than any other snake…] Maybe beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I felt like this snake looked a lot more handsome now. It leaned in, nuzzling my cheek with its nose affectionately. Tentatively, its tongue flicked the corner of my mouth. Leaving a cold, wet sensation. My breath hitched. I took it off, put it outside the door, and locked it quickly. [Male Lead got rejected just like that. But a snake is kinda hard to accept.] [Only in novels. If I saw a snake that big in my house, I’d move out overnight and leave the deed to the snake.] I threw myself onto the bed, burying my head in the quilt. My face was burning. It took a while to calm down. I texted my best friend. “Can you understand Xu Xian?” The comments were shocked. [???] [So you’re shy, not rejecting him?]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386595”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel