Category: English

My husband Leo’s car was blocking the neighbor’s driveway. I grabbed the spare key to move it. He had just left for a three-day conference in the city. I slid into the driver’s seat. The navigation screen was still on, displaying his recent history. One address had been searched repeatedly, and even saved as a favorite. “Annie’s Place: 7 Crescent Moon Bay, Unit 901” I scrolled through the history, my fingertips turning to ice. For the last six months, there were regular trips to that address, with the return time always logged after midnight. He’d told me he was working late, entertaining clients. I took pictures of everything on the screen, then dialed my father-in-law’s number. “Dad, Leo has been going to Crescent Moon Bay a lot recently. Do we have any relatives over there?” There was a pause on the other end of the line. When my father-in-law finally spoke, his voice was tense. “Don’t panic, Sarah. I’m on my way.” 1 Less than half an hour later, the doorbell rang insistently. My father-in-law stood on the porch, his usually immaculate suit jacket buttoned incorrectly. “Where is he?” he demanded, his sharp eyes scanning the room. I held out my phone, the screen facing him. “7 Crescent Moon Bay, Unit 901. Dad, do you know where that is? Leo told me he had work dinners every Wednesday and Friday.” His gaze fell to the screen, and his face turned ashen. He didn’t answer, but I saw his hand tremble slightly. “Maybe… maybe it’s a colleague’s place. He has a lot of young people in his department…” “Dad,” I said, taking my phone back and looking him straight in the eye. “What kind of male colleague would name his home ‘Annie’s Place’?” All the strength seemed to drain out of him. He sank onto the bench by the door and covered his face with his hands. “That bastard,” he rasped. “His mother mentioned something last month, said he was getting a little too close to a female coworker…” He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. “Sarah, it’s my fault. I didn’t raise him right. I’ll handle this for you.” “Dad, this is beyond your control now,” I said, handing him a tissue. “I just want an explanation.” “What are you going to do?” he asked, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. “If this gets out, his career is over!” “Did he think about his career when he was doing this?” My voice was devoid of any warmth. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make a scene at his office.” I walked over to the balcony. The city lights were just beginning to twinkle. “He’s away at a conference, right? That gives me some time to pay a visit to this ‘Annie’.” “No!” My father-in-law shot up and blocked my path. “It’s too dangerous for you to go alone! A woman like that, she’s capable of anything!” “What’s she going to do, eat me?” I said, looking at him. “Dad, I’m not going there to fight. I just need to see it for myself. I need the closure.” He stared at me, his expression a mixture of emotions. Finally, he sighed and dropped his hand. “Fine. If you have to go, I’ll go with you. I want to see what kind of trash he’s been messing with.” “You can’t come,” I said, stopping him. “If you go, are you going to disown him on the spot, or are you going to beg on his behalf? Either way, it will just escalate things and make him feel like we’re the ones cornering him.” “So what, we just sit here and do nothing?” “What does Leo care about most? His reputation. His position as a junior partner.” I pulled out my phone and started scrolling through my contacts. “What do you think would happen if I anonymously sent his navigation history and the address of that apartment to the DA’s office?” “You wouldn’t dare!” He snatched the phone from my hand. “Do you want to ruin his life?” “He ruined my life first!” I stared him down. “Dad, what do you think his main competitor, that guy Mark, would do with this information? Do you think Leo’s promotion would still be a sure thing?” The color drained from my father-in-law’s face. His hand went limp, and the phone fell onto the sofa. I picked it up and put it back in my pocket. 2 “I’m not actually going to send it,” I said. “But Leo needs to understand that the thing he values most is now on very thin ice.” I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” “Crescent Moon Bay,” I said, opening the door. “Don’t worry, I’m not going inside. I just want to know the name of the owner of Unit 901.” “And then what?” “And then,” I said, pausing, “I found something else in his car.” I pulled up a photo of a crumpled receipt on my phone and showed it to him. “A receipt from a pharmacy last month. For prenatal vitamins.” “What?” He shot up from the bench, nearly losing his balance. “Sarah, what are you saying?” “He told me he was out of town with his boss on a business trip last month. Dad, who do you think he was really with at that prenatal appointment?” My father-in-law stared at the photo, frozen, unable to speak. I walked out, leaving his heavy, ragged breathing behind me. The elevator’s metal doors reflected my face—expressionless, but with eyes as cold as steel. My phone buzzed. A text from Leo: *“Made it to the hotel, babe. This conference is a big one. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”* I slowly typed back: *“Okay. I have some good news for you too.”* Charging over to Crescent Moon Bay without a plan would only tip them off. I called my sister, Claire. “Claire, I think Leo is cheating on me.” The other end of the line went silent. “Do you have proof? That scumbag!” I told her about the navigation history and the receipt. “Send me the address. I’ll have someone run a check on the owner, the property records, everything. What’s your plan? Are you going to confront him?” “No,” I said. “Not yet. I need to know who this woman is, and if he’s moved any of our assets. When I kick him to the curb, I want to make sure he leaves with nothing but the clothes on his back.” My sister laughed. “Alright, Sarah! Leave it to me. Owner’s info, building access records, financial transactions… I’ll get you everything. You just stay calm. Don’t let him suspect anything.” “He’s back in three days.” “That’s plenty of time. I’ll be in touch.” After I hung up, I went back into the living room. My father-in-law was still sitting there, looking like he’d aged ten years. “Sarah…” “Dad,” I interrupted, “stay out of this. And don’t tip him off. I’ll handle it.” He opened his mouth, then just waved a tired hand. The rest of the day, I acted completely normal. I even cooked dinner as usual. My father-in-law barely ate, his eyes constantly darting in my direction. That afternoon, a message from my sister came through. “Got it. The owner is Annie Wen, 26, single. She’s a VP at a consulting firm that works with Leo’s company. Parking garage surveillance shows her red car parked next to Leo’s every Wednesday and Friday night. The times match.” A few blurry but identifiable screenshots followed. It was him. And a photo of Annie, her arm linked through his, a triumphant smile on her face. I replied: “Keep digging. Especially the money.” I decided to take a drive to Crescent Moon Bay. I told my father-in-law I was just going for a walk. He just nodded, his eyes full of a complicated mix of emotions. I parked across the street from the apartment complex. A few minutes later, a flashy red Porsche Macan pulled up. The window rolled down, and it was her. Perfectly made-up, smiling as she talked on the phone. I watched her disappear into the underground garage, and I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. I texted my sister: *“I just saw her. I need you to check their shared expenses, any money he’s moved without my knowledge.”* She replied instantly: *“On it. I’ll dig up everything. Are you… are you holding up okay?”* I typed back two words: *“I’m fine.”* My heart was dead, but my mind was clearer than ever. Now, it was their turn to suffer. 3 I drove home, my face a mask. My father-in-law was waiting for me. “Sarah, did you… see her?” “Yeah, I saw the car,” I said, my voice flat as I took off my shoes. “I’m tired. I’m not eating.” I went into the bedroom and locked the door, collapsing onto the bed. The tears I’d been holding back finally came, soaking the pillow. Tears for the five years of my marriage, for the trust I’d so blindly given, for the promise of a life together that was now just a lie. When the tears finally stopped, I got up and splashed cold water on my face. My reflection stared back, eyes red and swollen. “Sarah,” I said to myself, “that’s enough. Tears are useless.” He would be back in two days. I opened my laptop and started organizing. The navigation screenshots, the owner’s information, the surveillance photos, Annie’s picture… I encrypted and backed up everything. Messages from my sister started rolling in. “Found regular charges at a high-end sushi restaurant. Every Wednesday or Friday, on Leo’s card.” “Annie posted a picture on Instagram of a new watch. Same model as the one you gave Leo last year, just a different color. The purchase date matches.” “No hotel records. Looks like the apartment is their main spot.” “Still working on the bank records. He’s being careful.” Reading through it all, my heart was numb. This wasn’t a one-time mistake. This was a second life he had carefully constructed. The next day, I went into his home office, pretending to organize his files. In a hidden compartment of his old briefcase, I found a flash drive I’d never seen before. I plugged it into my computer. It contained a single encrypted folder. I called my sister, and she had someone remotely crack it. Thirty minutes later, the folder was open. Inside were stock trading records. My sister called immediately, her voice tight with suppressed rage. “Leo has been liquidating a joint investment account. Over the last six months, he’s cashed out over nine hundred thousand dollars!” “The money was funneled through several third-party accounts and ended up with Annie!” “He used it for the down payment on the Crescent Moon Bay apartment! The deed is in her name!” My hand trembled on the mouse. Nine hundred thousand dollars. That was the money we had been saving to buy a bigger house. Any lingering hope I had for him died in that moment. That evening, I went to the supermarket and bought the freshest ingredients. My father-in-law watched me come in, laden with grocery bags. “Sarah…?” “Leo’s coming home tomorrow,” I said calmly. “I’m making him a welcome-home dinner.” My father-in-law’s lips moved, but no words came out. He just looked at me with a mixture of guilt and helplessness. All the pieces were in place. The evidence, the lawyer, and my own dead heart. Welcome home, Leo. He arrived the next afternoon. I was in the kitchen, the sweet and sour aroma of his favorite pork ribs filling the house. The table was set with all his favorite dishes. My father-in-law sat in the living room, pretending to read the newspaper, his eyes darting nervously toward the kitchen. The sound of a key in the lock. “Honey, Dad, I’m home!” Leo walked in, dragging his suitcase, a weary but happy smile on his face. He kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the kitchen, his arms open to hug me from behind. I picked up a platter of food and turned at the exact right moment, neatly avoiding his embrace. I smiled, a perfectly calibrated, welcoming smile. “You’re back. Go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.” He seemed to hesitate for a second, but my movements were so natural, he didn’t question it. “Okay! It’s good to be home!” He walked to the table and reached for a piece of pork. “Wash your hands first,” I said, my voice gentle, betraying nothing. “Right, right, of course!” He went to the bathroom, humming happily. My father-in-law stood up and started setting out the rice bowls, never once looking at his son. The atmosphere at the dinner table was strangely harmonious. Leo was starving. He ate heartily, regaling us with detailed, witty stories about his “conference.” I listened quietly, smiling, nodding, serving him more food, playing the part of the perfect wife. My father-in-law barely touched his food, just stared down into his soup. When the meal was over, Leo leaned back in his chair, satisfied. “I’m so full! Nothing beats a home-cooked meal!” He looked at me, his eyes full of warmth. “Thanks, honey. You worked hard.” I put down my chopsticks, picked up my napkin, and slowly, deliberately, wiped my mouth. The smile on my face faded. I looked him straight in the eye. “Are you full?” I asked, my voice soft. “Huh? Yeah, I’m stuffed.” He was starting to sense the shift in the mood, his expression turning serious. “Good. Now that you’re full, let’s talk.” “Talk about what?” “Let’s talk about Crescent Moon Bay,” I said. “Number 7, Unit 901.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385169”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend was a boy genius, cold and brilliant, with a pathological aversion to physical touch. We’d been together for years, but we’d never done any of the intimate things couples do. Not a single one. I’d convinced myself that was just his nature, and I was prepared for a life of platonic love. That is, until his birthday. I took a forty-hour trip in a cramped coach seat, all the way across the country, just to surprise him. And I saw him. Standing under a streetlamp. He was smiling as he gave the ponytail of the girl next to him a playful tug, then laced his fingers through hers. In that single, shattering moment, I decided I was done with him. “I don’t do sloppy seconds. Any man another woman has touched is dirty to me.” And the calm, self-possessed boy genius I thought I knew… finally broke. 1 It was the fourteenth day of the silent treatment between Jerry and me, and it was also his birthday. I clutched the gift I’d spent six months of part-time work saving up for and tried to rub some feeling back into my backside, which had gone completely numb after forty hours on a train. Two thousand miles, from my state university in the Midwest all the way to his prestigious campus in the city. Standing under a flickering streetlamp on the edge of the Blackwood University athletic fields, I couldn’t help the nervous flutter in my chest as I imagined his reaction. He’d probably be the same as always. Expressionless. A slight, almost imperceptible nod in my direction. That was just him—an automaton, seemingly devoid of emotion. I sighed, thinking back to what started our fight. Distant figures swam in the hazy light, and then I saw him, a silhouette so familiar it ached. I started forward, but then I froze. He wasn’t alone. A girl in a high ponytail and a sleek tracksuit was looking up at him, laughing at something he’d said. And Jerry… I don’t think I had ever seen such a relaxed, easy expression on his face. As the girl chattered away, he reached out and gave her ponytail a gentle tug. She let out a playful squeal and slapped at his hand. Instead of recoiling, he laughed and joined in her game, their movements light and carefree. The lamplight cast a soft halo around them, a perfect portrait of youth and beauty playing under the moon. It was a scene straight out of a rom-com, but it filled me with a cold, hollow dread. There was a reason for that. The very reason for our fight was Jerry’s… condition. He was the boy genius who’d made headlines back home, fast-tracked into Blackwood University at seventeen. Now, at twenty, he was already a rising star in his academic field. But geniuses have their quirks. Jerry’s was a pathological aversion to physical contact. He avoided all team sports, never took public transit. In middle school, he’d beaten a classmate bloody just because the kid had jokingly touched his hand. And I, his girlfriend, was no exception. We never kissed. We never hugged. We had never even held hands. Once, on our first anniversary, beneath a sky bursting with fireworks, I stood on my toes and stole a quick kiss on his cheek. His eyes remained as flat and calm as a frozen lake, but the way he instantly took a half-step back was a wound that festered for a long time. I always told myself, That’s just Jerry. But sometimes, a bitter resentment would bubble up. On Valentine’s Day, my roommate made her new relationship Instagram official. The picture of their clasped hands was flooded with hearts and congratulations. I couldn’t resist taking a screenshot and sending it to Jerry. I tried to make a joke out of it. Three years together and we’ve never even held hands. I must be one of a kind. His reply was a single, devastating letter. “K.” I was so hurt, I decided not to message him. Fourteen days of silence. And of course, he would never be the one to reach out first. In the end, though, I caved. Just like I always did. I convinced myself it was fine, traveled halfway across the country for him, only to be greeted by this scene. The disconnect was so vast it felt like the ground was splitting open beneath me. A motorcycle suddenly roared past, coming dangerously close to the girl. In a flash, Jerry’s arm shot out. He pulled her behind him, his hand firmly gripping hers. That protective, instinctual gesture was another knife in my heart. And at that same moment, his eyes lifted and found me, standing alone across the street. 2 His face remained a mask of indifference. His movements hitched for a fraction of a second, and then he started walking briskly toward me. The girl, Chloe, let out a little cry and tugged on the corner of his jacket. “Hey, Jerry! What’s the rush?” He didn’t pull away. He just let her hold on as he crossed the street. He stopped in front of me, his gaze traveling down to my worn-out sneakers. “What are you doing here?” The faint light danced in his dark eyes. Before tonight, I would have mistaken that for a spark of warmth. I tried to stretch my lips into a smile. It felt like pulling taffy. I held out the carefully wrapped gift. “Jerry. I came to wish you a happy birthday.” He reached for it, but Chloe’s voice cut through the air. “Oh my god, Jerry! We’re going to be late for our reservation! We have to go, now!” His hand stopped in mid-air. Pulled along by Chloe’s insistent tugging, he took a few steps before pausing and looking back at me. “Well? Are you just going to stand there? Come on.” My feet felt like lead as I trailed behind them, my mind replaying that scene under the streetlamp on a dizzying loop. I knew I was the third wheel, the awkward extra sitting in the front seat of the taxi like a piece of forgotten luggage. But how do you just give up on someone you’ve loved for so many years? From the back seat, Chloe’s cheerful chatter filled the car. She was talking about lab gossip, inside jokes I couldn’t understand. Jerry would murmur a soft response now and then, the atmosphere between them easy and familiar. I couldn’t help but remember. I used to love sharing little bits of my day with him, too. He never really responded, but I didn’t care. Then one day, as I was excitedly telling him about the stray cat that lived near my dorm, he cut me off. “Lily, do you have nothing better to do with your time?” I never bothered him with “pointless chatter” again. I never knew that he would listen so intently to someone else’s. My knuckles were white as I gripped the handle of the gift bag, the plastic digging painfully into my palm. A wave of exhaustion and sorrow so profound washed over me, I thought I might collapse. The taxi driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, noticing my red-rimmed eyes. He chuckled, trying to be friendly. “Hey, son, don’t just talk to your girlfriend back there,” he said, nodding toward Chloe. “Your little sister’s about to cry from being ignored.” The chatter in the back seat died instantly. My vulnerability exposed, I hastily wiped away my tears, a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck. After a moment of silence, Chloe let out a soft, tinkling laugh. “Oh, I am so sorry. We completely forgot you were there.” She leaned forward slightly. “I’m Chloe Sherman, by the way. Jerry’s junior in the program. Though I skipped a grade, so we’re in the same graduate lab now. If all goes well, we’ll be doing our PhDs together, too.” She was still smiling, but there was a sharp, mocking edge to it now. “And you are? What school do you go to? Who’s your advisor? Published anything interesting? Funny, Jerry’s never mentioned you.” So this was Chloe. It was pathetic, I know, but I used to stalk the student forums for Jerry’s university. He was popular, a campus legend, and there were always threads about him. Since he never shared his life with me, it was the only way I could feel close to him. Her name, Chloe, always appeared alongside his. They called them the “Golden Couple of the Materials Science Department.” I’d even seen a photo of them. It was from some competition, the two of them on the winner’s podium, holding a trophy together, their smiles wide and triumphant. I’ll admit it. That picture made me burn with jealousy. The wind whistled past the car window. Jerry remained silent. He didn’t lift a finger to defend me against Chloe’s blatant provocation. “I’m Jerry’s… girlfriend,” I whispered. 3 The restaurant was an exclusive private kitchen specializing in fusion cuisine. A quick glance at the menu made my legs feel weak. Chloe ordered with the practiced ease of a regular. “The heirloom tomato tart, pan-seared scallops, and the duck confit for sure. Jerry loves those.” Did he? I had no idea. Before he was a genius, Jerry was just a kid from a normal family, like me. Our dates were usually at cheap noodle shops or diners. A real splurge for us was hot pot. I’d never even heard of a place like this. Chloe handed the menu back to the waiter. Just as he was about to leave, Jerry stopped him. “And add an order of the Nashville hot chicken. Extra spicy.” Chloe turned to him, her smile unwavering. “Jerry, I thought you never ate spicy food.” He just took a sip of his tea, offering no reply. But I knew. The person who loved spicy food wasn’t him. It was me. I felt that familiar, treacherous sting behind my eyes again. He always did this. Just when I was about to give up, about to walk away, he’d give me the tiniest crumb of hope to keep me chasing after him. Just like that night with the fireworks. After he’d flinched away from my kiss, he’d leaned in, just for a second, and pressed his lips softly to my hair. 4 The food was exquisite, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. After forty straight hours on a train, fueled only by a single pack of crackers to save money, my body was too exhausted to even feel hungry. Soon, the clock struck midnight. Chloe clapped her hands, and a group of waiters wheeled in an enormous, three-tiered cake. It was intricately decorated, with tiny fondant figures in lab coats dotting each layer. They must have been people from their lab. On the very top stood two figures, a boy and a girl, shoulder to shoulder, beaming. As the cake was placed in front of Jerry, Chloe began to speak. “Happy twentieth birthday, Jerry.” Her eyes sparkled as she pointed to the figures on top. “And here’s to us, reaching the summit together.” An entirely inappropriate toast. But that one order of spicy chicken had planted a foolish seed of hope in my heart. I prayed he would reject the cake, that he would say something, anything, to defend my place at his side. He just smiled faintly and thanked her. Then, he closed his eyes, hands clasped together, and made a wish. The candlelight softened the sharp, usually severe lines of his face. He had smiled more tonight than I’d seen him smile in all the years I’d known him combined. Was his wish about me? Or was it the same as Chloe’s toast—a wish for them to conquer the world together? They were geniuses. I was just an ordinary, broke student from a no-name college. The chasm between us had never felt so vast, so brutally real. I had my answer. The candles went out, plunging the room into darkness. And in that moment, my feelings for him dimmed, too. Chloe cheered and applauded. I forced a smile and clapped along weakly. She scooped a dollop of frosting with her finger and playfully smeared it on Jerry’s cheek. He just laughed, telling her to stop messing around. “Oh no, look what I did! I’ve ruined that perfect face of yours,” she giggled. “To make it up to you, I got you a proper gift!” 5 Like a magician, Chloe produced a large, sleek box from behind her chair and presented it to Jerry. The moment he opened it, my vision tunneled. I instinctively shoved the box at my own feet further under the table. Inside her box, nestled in black foam, was a brand-new, top-of-the-line laptop. It was the exact same one I had bought for him. “Your old one is so slow, Jerry. So, I got you a new one,” she said breezily. “I didn’t get anything too expensive, because I knew you wouldn’t accept it. Just picked one at random. You don’t mind, do you?” That laptop cost $1,299. To afford it, I’d spent six months tutoring. Every weekend, I’d take a two-hour bus ride to the other side of the city to teach, just because that tutoring center paid ten dollars more per hour than any place near my campus. The product of all my sweat and sacrifice, something I had treasured and protected… was just something she had “picked at random.” My hand, still holding my fork, began to tremble. Chloe’s eyes suddenly darted to me, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Oh, right! We haven’t seen what our guest of honor brought for Jerry yet.” Before I could react, she circled around behind me. Her hand shot out and snatched the box from under the table. I gasped and lunged for it, trying to get it back. The half-opened box slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor. The laptop—the one I had cradled in my arms for two thousand miles—hit the polished hardwood with a sickening, final thud. “Oops, sorry,” Chloe said. Her tone held not a shred of apology. I dropped to my knees, fumbling to open the box. The chassis was bent, the screen was a spiderweb of cracks. I pressed the power button. Nothing. Jerry knelt beside me, reaching out to help me up. “Lily…” For the first time all night, I heard a trace of guilt in his voice. I shoved his hand away and numbly placed the broken computer back in its box. Then, I stood up and walked out of the private dining room. The moment I was through the door, I broke into a run. “Lily!” Jerry’s voice, sharp with alarm, echoed behind me. 6 I wasn’t fast enough. He caught me just outside the restaurant’s main entrance, his fingers digging into my shoulders. He was panting, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps. I looked up, meeting his eyes. For the first time, I saw genuine shock in them. His hand trembled as he reached up and touched my cheek, his thumb wiping away a trail of moisture. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. So this is what it felt like to be touched by him. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Tears streamed down my face, soaking the collar of my shirt. Jerry tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming. Finally, in a move that stunned me, he pulled me into his arms. “Lily, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry…” he murmured, his voice laced with a frantic edge I’d never heard before. He repeated my name over and over again. In my moment of utter heartbreak, I had finally become his exception. But I was no longer the only exception. For all I knew, in all the moments I couldn’t see, he had been breaking his own rules for Chloe, time and time again. “Jerry.” I had been rehearsing this in my head for what felt like an eternity. When the words finally came out, my voice was shockingly steady. “Let’s break up.” He froze. When he pulled back to look at me, his eyes were filled with confusion. “Really, Lily? Over this?” A flicker of something—annoyance?—crossed his face before he sighed, a sound of weary resignation. “Lily, are you trying to get me to comfort you? When did you get so childish?” he asked, his tone flat. “This thing with Chloe… it’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand. Don’t make a scene.” He spoke as if I were a simple equation he could solve without effort, arriving at the perfect answer. He clearly thought I was too simple-minded to grasp the nuances of his relationship with Chloe, and that it wasn’t worth his time to explain it to a mere mortal like me. He just wanted me to stop being “childish” and pretend, like all the other times, that nothing had happened. Like a well-behaved pet. A hysterical laugh tried to bubble up, but it was choked off by a sob. Tears dripped into the corner of my mouth. I raised my hand, fully intending to slap him. But in that instant, all the strength drained out of me. My fingers just scraped across his cheek, leaving a thin, red line. “Jerry, you’re not a genius. You’re just an arrogant, self-righteous asshole.” He stood there, stunned, and slowly raised a hand to his face. Then, a strange look crossed his features. “There. Do you feel better now?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385185”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Isabel looked at me, her eyes flashing with a cheap sort of victory. “If you had any sense, you’d leave Marcus yourself,” she said. “He wants me. Not some barren old wife.” I’d heard the name, of course. Isabel Shaw. The scholarship kid my husband, Marcus, had sponsored. Six months ago, upon her graduation, he’d hired her as his executive assistant. The office gossip had reached me, whispers carried on waves of feigned concern, but I’d dismissed them. I had trusted Marcus. I had trusted the fifteen years we’d built together. But I never expected this girl to show up at my front door, demanding I abdicate my life. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. She was hardly a threat. She was a footnote. I couldn’t be bothered to respond to her pathetic attempt at intimidation. Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed Marcus. “Come home.” I hung up and met Isabel’s gaze. “Marcus is on his way. He can make his choice right here. If he chooses you, I’ll walk away. How does that sound?” A cold little smirk played on her lips. “I was trying to give you a graceful exit, but if you insist on humiliating yourself, so be it. Just don’t start crying when he tells you the truth.” I offered a small, knowing smile and said nothing. Thirty minutes later, the front door opened. Marcus was home. 1 “Marcus, darling,” Isabel began, her voice dripping with a cloying sweetness. “Tell her. She said she’ll leave if you choose me. Tell her who you want.” I looked at Marcus, a gentle smile on my face. I believed in him. I knew what his choice would be. In this, I had absolute confidence. The next second, a set of documents landed on the coffee table in front of me. Divorce papers. My smile froze on my face. It must have been the most awkward, pathetic smile of my life. A moment ago, I had been so certain he would choose me without a second thought. I’d seen Isabel as nothing more than a child, a silly distraction not even worthy of my competition. Reality delivered a slap so hard it left my ears ringing. I was a clown in my own home, a caricature of the confident wife I thought I was. The sight of those papers, with Marcus’s name printed next to mine, felt like a stone lodging in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Eight years of dating, five years of marriage. Thirteen years together, gone, like smoke. I didn’t scream. I didn’t plan to. I took a steadying breath, pushed down the chaos churning inside me, and picked up the papers. As my eyes scanned the terms, the fragile calm I’d just found shattered. “You want me to walk away with nothing?” I dropped the agreement and looked straight at Marcus. “You think this is reasonable?” My voice climbed, sharp with disbelief. “You cheat on me, and then you try to steal our entire life’s work? Marcus, do you really think I’m that weak?” The victor, Isabel, scoffed from her position by his side. “What, you think you deserve a cut? For years, you’ve eaten his food, lived in his house, spent his money. Now you want to take half? Have you no shame?” “Was I speaking to you?” I shot back, my glare silencing her. “Marcus, she’s scaring me,” she whimpered, turning to him. “Make her sign the papers and get out.” Marcus stroked her cheek, a soft, soothing gesture. The same gesture he’d used on me a thousand times. Now, watching it, I felt sick. He murmured a few comforting words to her before turning his cold eyes back to me. “Isabel is blunt, but she has a point. I won’t ask you to repay what I’ve spent on you over the years. Just sign the papers, Olivia, and we can be done.” A point? I stared into his eyes, searching for a flicker of guilt, of remorse. There was nothing. His indifference was a blade to the heart. I kept my voice as level as I could. “I want you to look me in the eye and say that again.” He didn’t hesitate. “It’s over, Olivia. Sign the papers.” I grabbed the divorce agreement, crumpled it into a tight ball, and threw it at his face. “Oh, we’re getting a divorce. But you’re the one who’ll be left with nothing. My lawyer will be in touch.” I stood, ready to walk away, unable to stomach the sight of them for another second. I had given him a chance. If he’d offered a fair split, for the sake of our history, I might have walked away quietly. But this was pure greed. This was humiliation. He could have the divorce, but he wouldn’t get a single cent more than he deserved. “Marcus, what is all this?” A woman’s voice cut through the tension as a figure rushed into the room. His mother, Helen. She grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly firm. “Don’t you worry, Olivia. I’ll handle this.” She guided me back to the sofa. The divorce was happening, that was certain, but I had to consider Helen’s feelings. Her health had been fragile for years. I sat back down as she poured me a cup of tea. “Sweetheart, you listen to me,” she said softly. “I will not let Marcus divorce you.” She turned a stern gaze on her son and his new pet. “What have I told you both?” She looked back at Marcus. “Have you forgotten the last three years? When I was sick, who was by my side? It was Olivia. She took care of everything, never complaining. Have you forgotten that? The doctors themselves said I wouldn’t have recovered if it weren’t for her meticulous care.” I hadn’t cried when Marcus chose Isabel. But hearing Helen’s words, feeling that validation, tears pricked my eyes and began to fall. “Mom, what about the baby’s birth certificate?” Marcus asked, his voice strained. The baby? My head snapped up. Isabel placed a delicate hand on her flat stomach, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. The baby. It had always been the great sorrow of our marriage. We’d seen countless specialists, endured endless tests, only for the doctors to deliver the final verdict: Marcus was sterile. So… Isabel had agreed to that. If that was the case, then perhaps Marcus was right to choose her. I wasn’t the one who could give him what he wanted. As I sat there in stunned silence, Helen took my hand again. “Olivia, you’ve always been the reasonable one.” She wiped a tear from my cheek with her thumb. “How about this? You sign the divorce papers. But in my heart, you will always be my daughter-in-law. You don’t have to leave this house.” She squeezed my hand. “I promise you, your lifestyle won’t change one bit. When Isabel has the baby, you can help out. You know my health… I can’t raise a child. And I wouldn’t trust a stranger with my grandbaby. The doctors all say you’re the best caregiver they’ve ever seen. I know you’ll do a wonderful job raising the child.” I pulled my hand from hers. A wave of nausea washed over me as I remembered the tears I’d shed just moments ago. It was a performance. A perfectly rehearsed play. Stay in the house after the divorce? They wanted a free nanny. I laughed, a short, bitter sound. I stood up and faced Marcus. “I’m giving you three days to draw up a new agreement. If you insist on leaving me with nothing, I will find my own way to get justice.” “Olivia, I’m trying to help you, and this is how you behave?” Helen’s face hardened, the warmth vanishing completely. “How will you survive without Marcus? Do you think you can maintain this lifestyle on your own? A man of his stature, it’s practically expected for him to… have other options. Besides, Isabel is pregnant. She’s the hero here. She’s not even asking you to leave. Why are you making a scene?” Making a scene? There was nothing left to say. I turned and walked toward the door. “Stop right there,” Isabel called out. “Ever heard of pulling the rug out from under someone?” I paused. She was beaming. “Marcus has already transferred all his assets into my name. And just yesterday, as the CEO of the company, he secured a new hundred-million-dollar loan from the bank. If you want to split the assets, Olivia, the only thing you’ll be splitting is that debt.” She cocked her head. “Are you sure you want to go to court?” Marcus produced another file from his briefcase. “Out of respect for our marriage, I was trying to spare you this. But if you insist on fighting for half the assets, you can sign this agreement instead.” It was a masterstroke of cruelty. I locked my eyes on Marcus. “Scheme all you want. I’m only giving you three days. You’d better find a way to get those assets back. Trust me, if you don’t do what I say, in three days, your world will start to unravel.” “Have you been reading too many romance novels, you pathetic housewife?” Isabel shouted at my back. Housewife? I turned back, my gaze falling on Marcus. “I stayed home for three years to take care of your mother. Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten who I really am?” “Who is she?” Isabel cooed, clinging to Marcus’s arm. “Darling, I hear housewives have vivid imaginations. Tell me, what grand title has she given herself?” Marcus looked at Isabel with sickening affection. “She’s exactly what you said. A housewife.” I took one last, long look at him, then turned and left without another word. Tomorrow is the quarterly board meeting. Tomorrow, I would remind him exactly who I am. The next morning, I arrived at the corporate headquarters early and took my seat in the boardroom. At 9:30 a.m., the other board members began to file in. It had been three years since I’d last attended a meeting, and the looks they gave me were… different. It seemed they had all forgotten who secured the deals that put this company on the map. Soon, Marcus arrived. He was with Isabel. His expression flickered when he saw me, but he quickly composed himself. Isabel, however, shot me a look of pure venom. She walked straight to my chair. “Move.” There’s a hierarchy to a boardroom table. This seat was mine. I glanced up at her. “And who are you to be attending a board meeting? Get out.” “So you lost the war at home, and now you’re bringing the fight to the office?” She placed her hands on the back of my chair. “Gentlemen, perhaps one of you could explain to this woman who I am, and whether or not I have a right to be here.” Marcus stared at me, a hint of mockery deep in his eyes, as if he was savoring my humiliation. “Ms. Price,” he said, using my maiden name with deliberate formality, “Ms. Shaw is the new Vice President of this company. I believe she has every right to be here.” Isabel leaned over me, her voice a triumphant whisper. “Now you know who I am. The real question is, what are you doing here? What gives you the right to sit in this chair and attend this meeting?” I kept my eyes fixed on Marcus. “Since you were so kind as to explain Isabel’s presence, why don’t you explain mine?” He dismissed me with a wave. “This is a place of business, not your stage for throwing a tantrum. Leave now.” “Three years,” I said, my voice quiet but carrying across the silent room as I looked at the other board members. “Has it really been long enough for all of you to forget who I am?” Silence. “If you don’t leave, I’ll call security,” Marcus threatened. “Why?” I countered. “If Isabel can attend as Vice President, why can’t I attend as Vice President?” “Oh, that,” Isabel said with a theatrical laugh. “I suppose Marcus forgot to inform you. Two years ago, due to your continued absence from board meetings, the board voted to remove you from your position as Vice President.” She leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear. “Was that the ace up your sleeve? That you were the VP? So sad. Even if you were, it was a title Marcus gave you. A gift. You never really thought you were somebody, did you?” Her voice dropped to a hiss. “Now, tuck your tail between your legs and get out.” I stared at Marcus, my blood running cold. “You fired me? You fired me, and you never even told me?” “Security,” Marcus said, ignoring me completely. He gestured to the door. Two guards entered and approached my chair. He pointed at me. “Escort her out.” They moved toward me, but I stood on my own. “I can walk myself.” At the doorway, I turned back to Marcus. “You seem to have forgotten how this company was built. How every single one of our major contracts was won.” I saw his eyes flicker, a brief moment of avoidance. He hadn’t forgotten. He had chosen to erase me for her. My voice was ice. “I hear the company is hosting a gala for its partners tomorrow night. I assume it’s to build up Isabel’s profile?” His face hardened. “You’d better not make a scene. You’ll only embarrass yourself.” “We’ll see who’s embarrassed,” I said coldly. Isabel’s challenge followed me out the door. “Olivia, Marcus is being generous, but I won’t be. If you dare show your face tomorrow, I’ll destroy you. But I doubt you have the guts.” No guts? I said nothing more. Yesterday, I called him home to make a choice, and I was made a fool. Today, I came to the board meeting, and I was made a fool again. There won’t be a third time. I was the fool in those situations because Marcus held all the power. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t. Standing on the sidewalk below, I looked up at the gleaming skyscraper. It seemed that ever since this building became his, ever since the company truly became an empire, he had changed. Fine. Let’s see how he fares as a pauper again. I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Dad, I want a divorce.” A beat of stunned silence, then an explosion of joy on the other end. “What? What did you say?” “I’m divorcing Marcus.” “Thank God! Oh, thank God! You’ve finally come to your senses.” “I didn’t come to my senses,” I said, my voice tight. “I was pushed.” My parents had always hated my marriage to Marcus. We were from different worlds, and they saw him as an opportunist. When I insisted on being with him, they cut me off. Later, after I used my own connections and skills to build his company from the ground up, they saw they couldn’t control me financially. They offered an olive branch: they would accept Marcus if we gave them a grandchild. I was their only child, and they desperately wanted a new life to dote on. But then came the diagnosis: Marcus was sterile. My parents’ disapproval hardened into outright hostility. They even launched a corporate attack against our company. I fought back, working myself to the bone, pulling all-nighters, drinking with clients until I was sick, just to fend them off. They eventually relented, but they never truly accepted him. “Sweetheart, just tell me what happened,” my father’s voice turned cold, sensing the suppressed rage in mine. “Tomorrow night, at his gala,” I said. “I want you to ruin him.” “Done,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll make the arrangements.” After hanging up, I let out a long, shuddering breath. I had cherished my marriage, fought for it, even at the cost of my relationship with my parents. It had been a shadow over my heart for years. Today, that shadow was gone. “When I loved you, you were the king of my world,” I whispered to the empty air. “Now that I don’t? You’re nothing.” I gave the building one last look and drove away. The next evening at seven, I pulled up to The Grand Regent Hotel. Just as I stepped out of my car, Marcus’s town car arrived. He and Isabel emerged, dressed to the nines. When she saw me, Isabel tightened her grip on Marcus’s arm and looked me up and down with disdain. “I guess you can’t afford designer clothes without Marcus’s money anymore. You really wore that to this event? Are you determined to be a laughingstock?” I glanced at her before my eyes landed on Marcus. “You should really get her out more. If she can’t even recognize couture, she has no business being seen in public.” “Couture?” Isabel’s face darkened. “Marcus, she must have been hiding money from you! You have to get that back, too.” Marcus squeezed her hand gently. “We will. We’ll expose her for what she really is. A crow can wear feathers, but it will never be a swan.” Isabel lifted her chin haughtily. “Did you hear that? You’re a crow.” I ignored them and walked into the hotel. “Olivia! It’s been too long.” “We’ve missed you, Olivia! It hasn’t been the same.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385202”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The HR manager told me to pack my things. I was being laid off. I smirked, looking him dead in the eye. “Does my dad know you’re firing me?” HR slid a paper across the desk. “The layoff list for the Security department just came down. Your dad’s on it.” I laughed. “Well, does my mom know?” He glanced at me. “We’re downsizing Janitorial, too. She’s on the list.” I leaned back in my chair, letting out a cold huff. “And I suppose my grandpa, the esteemed man at the front desk, has been informed of this momentous event?” HR tapped the last list. “Head of the chopping block for the Doorman staff. Your grandpa’s name is first.” … 1 There we were, three generations of my family, lined up like ducks in a row on termination day. The entire office was staring, their faces a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. “They all got laid off? That’s their whole family’s income, gone in one day.” “So tragic. But honestly, who does that? You’d think a normal family would know not to put all their eggs in one basket. Now the whole carton’s smashed.” “Wait, isn’t that Mason guy dating Chloe, the VP? She’s really firing her boyfriend’s entire family?” A chubby guy with glasses chimed in, “Please. Mason had it coming. He’s a total mooch, and not content with that, he brought his whole family to leech off the company too.” “And on top of that,” he added, lowering his voice, “he had the nerve to piss off Julian. And everyone knows Julian is the one Chloe *really* cares about. It was only a matter of time.” Just then, Julian’s voice cut through the whispers. “Oh, Mason, buddy. I tried to talk Chloe out of it. I really did. I told her your family was struggling and that this was a bit extreme.” Julian, looking sharp in an expensive custom-tailored suit, shot me a look of pure triumph. “But what could I do? She insisted on defending my honor. Said she had to get rid of you all.” He leaned in, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” I scoffed. “Cut the act, Julian. You know you threw yourself down those stairs to frame me.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So what if I did? What does it matter if there’s security footage? Chloe refuses to even look at it.” “It’s just how it is, Mason. She believes whatever I say. I’m the one she’s always cared about. We’ve known each other for twenty years. You never stood a chance.” 2 Julian’s arrival only fueled the office gossip. The comments got louder, and meaner. The most vicious was Stacy, Chloe’s best friend. She’d always hated me. “Mason, if you had any self-respect, you would have bowed out ages ago. Look at you. Your family, your education… what part of you can even compare to a man like Julian?” Her round-faced friend nodded eagerly. “Exactly. Julian and Chloe are childhood friends. He’s an Ivy League grad from a family of academics. And your family is…?” She let out a derisive snort, scanning the four of us with utter contempt. My mom’s face went rigid with anger. She was about to let loose when my dad put a hand on her arm. “Let it go,” he murmured. “This is good for him. A little humiliation might finally knock some sense into him and stop him from being Chloe’s doormat.” My mom nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re right.” Stacy wasn’t done. “Mason, you should take a good long look in the mirror. Chloe is rich, she’s beautiful. Did you really think she would ever be serious about a leech like you?” That was the last straw for my grandpa. “Hey! You watch your mouth, young lady! Who are you calling a leech?” Before Stacy could answer, a sharp voice cut in from behind me. “He’s talking about your grandson, you useless old man.” 3 I turned. It was Chloe. Julian arched an eyebrow at me, then smugly wrapped his arm around Chloe’s waist, pulling her close in a clear display of victory. Chloe looked at my grandfather with her usual air of imperious disdain. “You’ve been fired. Don’t you dare cause a scene in my company, you old fossil.” My grandpa was so stunned by her vulgarity that he started wheezing. My parents rushed to his side, patting his back. “Dad, don’t listen to her. She’s not worth it.” I stepped in front of my grandpa, shielding him. “You can say whatever you want about me, Chloe. But you don’t talk to my grandfather like that.” My dad’s anger flared. “That’s right! You can insult my son, but you will not insult my father!” My mom crossed her arms. “And you can’t insult my son, either!” Chloe threw her head back and laughed, a high, sharp sound. “Oh, is that right? Did I hurt the beggars’ feelings? Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me you’re *not* mooches?” Her eyes swept over the four of us. “A janitor, a security guard, a doorman, and a ‘Director’ I appointed out of pity. You have the nerve to deny you’re leeches? Your entire family should be on your knees, thanking me for my charity.” “Now you listen here, young lady,” my mom snapped back. “That’s not right. If it weren’t for my—for my son busting his ass in the project department, drumming up clients, this ‘charity case’ of a company would have gone bankrupt years ago!” Chloe doubled over with laughter. “Oh, ma’am, are you serious? You think this company runs because of *your son*?” “What kind of connections does Mason have? Do you really think he’s the one who got Isabella Sterling, the heiress to Sterling Enterprises, to personally come in and sign that contract?” My mom snorted. “Why not? She happens to be very fond of—” My dad shot my mom a look, a silent signal to hold back. Seeing my mom fall silent, Chloe pounced. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue? Don’t tell me you were actually going to say the great Isabella Sterling signed that deal because of your son?” 4 Looking at Chloe’s face, it was like seeing a stranger. Julian was her childhood friend, and ever since he’d returned from overseas, he’d made it his mission to make my life a living hell. It started the day he arrived, when he walked into my office and declared, “I think I’d like this office.” I knew then he was trouble. “If you want it, you have to earn it,” I’d told him. “This is the Project Director’s office. Can you bring in investors? Can you even manage a project?” Before he could respond, Chloe had stepped in, linking her arm with his. “Mason, don’t you dare look down on him.” “Julian isn’t like you, from a family of uneducated blue-collar workers. He’s a top graduate from a university abroad, from a highly respected family. He has connections and resources overseas you can’t even dream of. He’ll do a better job than you ever could.” I’d raised an eyebrow. “You really think so?” “Of course!” she’d snapped. “Julian is the company’s new good luck charm! He just got here and he already landed a massive deal with Sterling Enterprises. You know, only the biggest multinational corporation on the planet.” I almost laughed. “A good luck charm? Him? That project was my—” “Oh, stop it, Mason,” she interrupted. “Don’t tell me that old story about how your department’s ‘all-nighters’ landed the client. In the seven years I’ve been VP, Sterling Enterprises has never given us the time of day.” At that, Julian had smirked. “Hey, isn’t your dad one of the security guards here?” “And your grandpa’s the doorman, your mom’s a janitor—oh! Speaking of which, since your mom’s on staff, why don’t you call her up here to clean my new office?” Even Chloe hesitated. “Julian, that’s Mason’s mom. Maybe that’s going too far—” He just ruffled her hair. “Sweetheart, you’re too kind. That’s how people take advantage of you. Fine. If making his mom clean is in poor taste, Mason can do it himself.” Chloe didn’t spare me a second thought, didn’t care one bit about my dignity as her boyfriend. She and Julian flirted right in front of me while I was on my hands and knees cleaning. “Julian, look,” she’d cooed, presenting him with a lavish gift box. “A little something to celebrate you joining the company.” He opened it to reveal a Rolex. “Wow, Chloe. This is way too much.” “You deserve it,” she said. “You landed us a billion-dollar deal on your first week.” Meanwhile, I was scrubbing the floor. Chloe shot me a glare. “Hurry it up. Don’t hold up the transition.” That was just the beginning. Even after I moved offices, Julian wouldn’t let up. He’d intentionally “bump” into me during meetings, spilling scalding coffee on my hand and then playing the victim. Chloe never once asked if I was okay. She’d rush to his side in front of everyone. “Julian, are you hurt? Meeting’s adjourned, I’m taking you to the hospital.” He locked me in a supply closet overnight to “teach me a lesson” for his own manufactured slights. He made my grandpa park and wash his car every single day, treating him like a valet. He made my mom clean his office a dozen times a day, always finding some new speck of dust to complain about. He ordered my dad around like a personal servant. Every time I tried to talk to Chloe about it, she’d dismiss me. “Mason, you’re being too sensitive. They’re just doing their jobs. They get a paycheck, they should do the work.” “You’re only like this because you’re poor. It’s made you paranoid. You always assume the worst of Julian.” Then came the annual company gala. Chloe gave a heartfelt speech about the man who had stood by her all these years, who helped her achieve her dreams. Everyone, including me, thought she was talking about me. I was getting ready to stand up. But the name she called was Julian’s. I watched them embrace under the spotlight as the entire company laughed at me. From that day on, I was a joke. They called me “the clown” and “the simp” to my face. The last straw was a few days ago. Julian cornered me on the stairs. “If you don’t break up with Chloe,” he sneered, “I’ll make her kick you to the curb.” And then he just… threw himself down the flight of stairs. As always, Chloe didn’t investigate. She didn’t listen to my side of the story. She demanded I get on my knees and apologize to him. I refused. So she had HR fire my entire family. After so many humiliations, I was numb. The love I once felt for her had curdled into something else entirely. Pity, maybe. 5 Seeing us silent, Chloe continued her tirade. “What’s the matter? Nothing to say? Finally realize what pathetic losers you are?” My grandpa couldn’t take it anymore. “Of course not! It’s because of my—” My dad stopped him. “Dad, not yet. Let’s see how far she takes this.” Chloe took our silence as agreement. She tapped her designer heel on the marble floor. “Your entire family eats my food, wears clothes paid for by my salary. You should have learned your place as my dogs.” Stacy chimed in. “Exactly! Being Chloe’s dogs is the best thing that ever happened to you.” “Chloe,” I said through gritted teeth. “Don’t push it.” *CRACK.* Her hand slapped across my face, the sound echoing in the silent office. “Who do you think you are,” she hissed, “to speak to me like that?” That did it. My mom was fiercely protective. The second she saw me get hit, she lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Chloe’s hair. “You dare touch my son? I have had it with you!” My mom slapped Chloe right back, just as hard. Stacy tried to pull my mom off, but I shoved her away. Julian rushed forward. “Mason, you’re such a mama’s boy! You’re just going to stand there and watch your mom attack Chloe?” My grandpa shot Julian a withering look. “And you, young man. Of all the things to be, you chose to be a homewrecker.” Julian’s face turned beet red. Chloe, reeling from the slap, looked at me in disbelief. “Mason! You’re really going to let your mother do this to me?” She glared at my mom. “You’re a fired janitor and you have the audacity to lay a hand on me? This isn’t over.” I stepped in front of my mom. “She did nothing wrong. If you have a problem, you take it up with me.” A slow, cruel smile spread across Julian’s face. “Mason, I told you. You can’t win against me.” Chloe’s face was a mask of hatred. “Don’t you dare act tough now, you leech. Ganging up on me with this old hag.” My dad and grandpa just stared, their eyes wide with a strange kind of awe. “Fine,” Chloe said, regaining her composure. “I’ll give you one last chance. I can forgive your mother. You can even stay. If you get on your knees, right now, apologize, and sign this document disowning your entire family. Then I’ll consider letting you take over your mother’s old job. You can stay and scrub the company toilets.” 6 “That’s—that’s just inhuman!” my grandpa sputtered. Julian sneered. “Shut your mouth, old man. Your doorman job is gone. You keep barking, and I’ll make sure you’re blacklisted from every security firm in the city.” My dad’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Wow, you can do that?” Julian puffed out his chest. “I’m the man who landed the Sterling Enterprises deal. Even Isabella Sterling listens to what I have to say.” I started clapping slowly. “Bravo. A truly masterful performance.” “But I have to ask,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “You’re firing us. Does Ms. Sterling know about that?” For a fraction of a second, Julian looked nervous, but he quickly recovered his swagger, adjusting his tie. “I don’t need to report the firing of a few nobodies to Isabella Sterling.” “That’s right,” Chloe said. “Julian is the Vice President of this company now, the hero who saved us with the Sterling deal. If he doesn’t like you, he can fire you. Does he need to pick a special day?” “Who do you think you are, that we’d need to clear it with Ms. Sterling?” She looked at me. “Mason, kneel to Julian, sign these papers, and I might keep you around.” “Yeah, Mason,” Stacy added. “Don’t be an idiot. Chloe’s company is about to go public thanks to this deal. Don’t throw away your meal ticket. Besides, you’ve knelt before. It’s not like your knees have much value left.” Chloe shoved a document into my hand. It was a legal form to formally sever all parental ties. “This is your last chance, Mason. Disown them, and I’ll still consider marrying you.” 7 I looked at the document. Then I looked at her. And I started to laugh. Under Chloe’s expectant gaze, I took the papers and ripped them into a hundred tiny pieces. I looked at her stunned face and realized, with blinding clarity, that I had been a fool. I had been in love with a monster. “Chloe,” I said, my voice steady and clear. “Remember this moment. Today is the day that I, Mason Hayes, am breaking up with you. And you will live to regret it.” I turned my back on her. Behind me, my dad, mom, and grandpa all gave me a simultaneous, triumphant thumbs-up. For the first time ever, Chloe saw me fight back. For the first time, she looked… scared. “Mason!” she yelled after me. “If you walk out that door today, don’t you ever think about coming back!” “None of you will ever work in this building again!” “Hilarious,” I called back over my shoulder. “We quit.” Julian rolled his eyes. “Go on then. Plenty of people are desperate for your jobs. Go eat out of a dumpster. It’ll save you some money.” As I walked out, I saw Chloe’s confident mask crumble. She stumbled slightly, shocked that I had actually left. Stacy rushed to her side. “Don’t worry, Chloe,” I heard her say. “He’s a total simp. He can’t live without you. Besides, I did some digging. His family’s broke. They don’t even have a house, they were living in the staff dorms. Now that they’re fired, where are they going to go? I guarantee you, he’ll be back tonight, on his knees, begging for your forgiveness.” “You’re right,” Chloe said, her voice regaining some of its strength. “He’ll be back.” 8 The second we were out of the building, my grandpa clapped me on the shoulder, his eyes shining. “Well done, grandson! You finally made all the crap we put up with these past few weeks worth it.” My mom sighed in relief. “Your grandma was right. The only way to cure a simp is to let him get his heart broken. If we had tried to intervene, you would have just accused us of trying to ruin your life.” My dad nodded. “Your grandmother is a wise woman. You see things clearly now? You’re really over Chloe?” I looked at them, my family. “I’m so sorry. I dragged you all through hell because I was an idiot. But I see it now. I’m done. I’m never going back to being her doormat. Tonight, when we get home, I’m calling the Sterlings. It’s time to move forward with the marriage arrangement.” Tears welled up in my grandpa’s eyes. “Oh, son. I’m so glad to hear you say that.” We walked around the corner of the building. Lined up along the curb was a fleet of black Escalades. A row of men in sharp, black suits stood waiting. As we approached, they all bowed in perfect unison. “Mr. Hayes. Sir. Ma’am. Young Master Hayes. Welcome back.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385218”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Before graduation, Holden Blackwood, the heir to a fortune, got brutally dumped by the most popular girl in school. I was gnawing on a dry bagel, sidling up to him as he stared blankly out the window, his textbooks forgotten. “You know,” I said, “I kind of look like her. Why don’t you go for me instead?” He was silent for a long moment, then he handed me the single perfect rose he’d been about to give her. I accepted my role with zero guilt, milking it for all it was worth. A million dollars a month, I demanded. He didn’t argue. He sent two. After we got married, it was clockwork. Sex four times a week, always on schedule, service with a smile. Everyone said Holden had finally found his true love. Until the day his assistant quietly pulled me aside. “That new secretary Mr. Blackwood just hired… I hear she used to be the most popular girl back in your high school. “Ma’am, he seems to really like her. He gave her your favorite private lounge…” 1 I only ever wanted Holden Blackwood for his money. The man was a hopeless romantic, the kind who showered his girlfriend with gifts. While I was scraping by, so hungry I’d count a stale bagel as a meal, I could only envy Sophia, who wore $200,000 earrings before she even had a diploma. What I couldn’t understand was why she’d throw away a man like Holden for some broke scholarship kid. So, the moment Sophia slapped Holden across the face and stormed off, I blocked her path at the classroom door. “Are you two really over?” She shot a disdainful look at my frayed school uniform and flicked my hand off her arm. “Yes. We’re over.” “So, can I make a move on him?” Her eyes raked over my shabby clothes, and a smirk blossomed on her face. “Sure. Go for it. If you actually manage to land him, I’ll give you these earrings.” My gaze fixed on the glittering diamonds he’d given her. I nodded. At our graduation party, when Holden walked in with his arm wrapped around my waist, Sophia’s smile froze on her face. The second Holden stepped away to the restroom, she requested a song for me. As the lyrics “cheating bitch” echoed through the bar, the room fell silent, all eyes turning to me. “You’re pathetic, Chloe,” Sophia sneered. I knew exactly what Holden saw me as. A stand-in. A replacement. But I just grabbed a bottle of champagne, popped the cork, and poured the entire thing over her perfectly styled hair. Then, I plucked the earrings from her lobes. “A bet’s a bet,” I said coolly. “If you didn’t want me to have him, you shouldn’t have gotten engaged to that charity case.” “Chloe!” she shrieked, lunging at me. But a strong arm yanked me back, and Holden took the force of her slap for me. He pulled me out of the bar, and we drove in suffocating silence. He was hurting, I knew. His heart still ached for her. And I knew my place. I followed Sophia on Instagram. Every new outfit she posted, I bought the exact same one. And I’d wear it on our designated nights together. Each time he saw me dressed in her style, a flicker of something unreadable would cross his face. I knew he was looking at her, not me. That he secretly stalked her profile too, seeing in me a ghost of the girl he’d lost. My best friend, Mia, was furious for me. I was his wife, after all. But I didn’t mind. I asked for a million a month; he gave me two. I pushed my luck and asked for three; he wired me five. With a life like this, who needed love? I was born into a world devoid of affection and money. I would claw at any opportunity to make a buck, shame be damned. As long as Holden was still interested in this game, I was going to play my part to perfection. On our first anniversary, Sophia posted a new photo. A delicate butterfly tattooed on the nape of her neck. Tears streamed down my face as the needle dug into my skin, but ten agonizing hours later, I had a perfect replica. When Holden emerged from the shower, toweling his hair, he stopped dead. He saw me, perched on the bed in a lavender lace nightgown, the fresh tattoo on my neck exposed. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” “Don’t ever do this again,” he said, his voice flat. He showed no interest in the butterfly. “And get rid of all your purple clothes.” My heart sank. Lavender was Sophia’s favorite color. Was he tired of me mimicking his first love? Was my time as the stand-in finally over? “I mean, it must have hurt,” he clarified, flicking my forehead gently. “From now on, you don’t have to copy her. I’ll still give you plenty of money.” The next day, our housekeeper cleared every last purple item from my closet. I didn’t care; I’d always hated the color anyway. She replaced them with racks of elegant black dresses. I ran my hand over the exquisite fabric. He knew I loved black? But if I wasn’t Sophia’s clone anymore, what was my purpose? To test the waters, I asked for eight million. He gave me an unlimited black card. A companion card to his own. While shopping with Mia, she poked me. “I thought your plan was to stick it out for five years, then take the money and run. It’s almost been five years. When are you filing for divorce?” I found my gaze fixed on a display of tiny baby clothes in a shop window, and for a moment, I was lost in thought. 2 I had been Holden Blackwood’s substitute for five years. I didn’t know what it felt like to truly love someone. My only reference point was a faded memory of my mother, before she left with another man. The kindest thing she ever did for me was knit me a scarf. Now, my fingers were covered in bandages, but the scarf was finished. It seemed Holden didn’t need it anymore. It was one of our nights, and he was half an hour late. I waited on the sofa until I drifted off, only to be woken by a soft kiss. “Sorry,” Holden murmured, his breath hot and restrained as he undid his tie. “A client added a last-minute clause. I got held up.” For the first time ever, I pushed him away. “When are you planning to divorce me?” His breath hitched. “What are you talking about?” I looked up at him. “I know she’s back. You even gave her my favorite lounge at the office. I checked—my access has been revoked.” His muscles tensed. “Holden, don’t get me wrong. I won’t cling to you. I don’t even need a huge settlement. Just give me—” He was already on his phone, his tone colder than I’d ever heard it. “Secretary? What secretary? What’s this about the lounge? Since when does my staff get shuffled around without my approval?” On the other end, the head of HR stammered, “Mr. Blackwood, she showed us photos of the two of you from back when you were dating. She said… she said your wife stole you from her. And your wife does look a lot like Ms. Sophia, and the photos were definitely of you, so we just assumed…” Holden’s expression was glacial. “Blacklist Sophia from the entire industry. I want to see my wife’s access to that lounge restored within the hour. And you? Go to accounting and pick up your final paycheck.” The HR manager tried to protest, but Holden had already hung up. I stared at him, stunned. He turned and pulled me into a fierce embrace, his lips crashing down on mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against my mouth. “I had no idea. I’ve been away from the main office…” I believed him. He was always jetting around the globe for business. But no matter how far he was, he never missed one of our four nights a week. Still, a seed of doubt remained. I clutched the front of his shirt. “You’re not worried she’ll be heartbroken? Blacklisting your old flame like that?” “What old flame?” he growled, kissing me until I was breathless. “I only have you.” “Are you… telling me how you feel?” “Yes.” “Then, Holden,” I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on tight. “What am I to you?” He paused, then his lips found mine again, more intense this time. “You’re my wife.” A shiver went through me. “Then from now on, I’m going to start acting like it.” “It’s about time you did.” Neither of us slept that night. 3 My knitting had improved. I unraveled the first scarf and re-knit it, making it bigger, warmer. But then Mia sent me a video. In the clip, Holden was in Monaco. After a meeting at his private villa, he was walking under a black umbrella as it poured. He passed Sophia. Since being blacklisted, she had nowhere to go. She couldn’t even make rent. Soaked to the bone, her purple dress clung to her curves. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice trembling in the wind. “Holden…” He hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he walked right past her without a backward glance. “Holden! Have you forgotten everything we had?” she cried out after him, her voice desperate. He never turned around. I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed he knew his place. But I had underestimated Sophia’s persistence. The storm raged all night, and she stood outside his villa all night. Until she finally collapsed. A black umbrella appeared in my line of sight on the screen. Sophia forced her eyes open, looking up at the man holding it. Holden was perfectly dry, his chiseled face unreadable. But the umbrella was tilted, ever so slightly, in her direction. The next day, Holden flew back to New York as planned. But he gave Sophia the villa in Monaco. “Chloe, what does this mean?” Mia fretted. “Holden only ever spends money on his women!” I thought for a moment. “If he sees me as his wife, then I’ll act like one.” That same day, Sophia was evicted from the villa. And for the first time since our wedding, Holden missed one of our nights. I called him a dozen times. He didn’t pick up. He came home the next day, looking exhausted, his eyes bloodshot. “Did you have her thrown out?” I didn’t flinch. “Yes.” “Who gave you permission to be so unreasonable?” The accusation in his tone stunned me. I looked up. “Are you saying that as your wife, I’m supposed to tolerate your ex-girlfriend living in our property?” Holden didn’t answer. He just scowled and tossed his phone at me, a video playing on the screen. In it, Sophia was being dragged into an alley by a group of men, her purple dress torn to shreds. Holden’s voice trembled with rage. “If I hadn’t gotten there in time, she would have been… violated.” I stared coldly at the screen. “What do you want me to do?” “Go to the hospital. Apologize to her.” “Holden,” I pushed the phone back at him. “I will not apologize to the other woman.” “The other woman?” A cruel, unfamiliar sneer twisted his lips. “If we’re getting technical about it, aren’t you the other woman?” The air left my lungs. He didn’t see my shock. He just turned and walked away. For the first time ever, he slammed the door. I sat alone on the sofa until the dead of night, my phone buzzing with messages from friends. Chloe! What’s going on? Why did Holden drop everything to sit by some other woman’s hospital bed? They’re saying she’s his first love. That’s not true, is it? Chloe, get to the hospital! You’re about to lose your husband! I didn’t reply to any of them. Instead, I packed my bags. When Holden came home three days later, he saw my suitcase and let out a short, humorless laugh. “What’s this? Running away from home?” I handed him the divorce papers. “It’s over. You can keep the settlement.” The teacup in his hand froze midway to his lips. 4 He scanned the agreement, page by page, his expression grim. His hands were trembling slightly. “Divorce me? Who’s going to give you that kind of money?” “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Blackwood. I won’t starve.” He hesitated. “Fine. We can get a divorce. But you have to return every penny I ever spent on you.” I froze. After five years as his stand-in, I’d earned a lot, but I’d also spent a fair bit. Seeing my hesitation, a flicker of relief crossed his face. “Can’t pay it back? That’s fine. Just as long as you don’t…” “I can.” He stared at me. I’ve always been insecure about money. No matter how much I had, I never spent lavishly. Even with a nine-figure bank balance, my idea of a feast when Holden was out of town was still ramen with a couple of eggs. Over five years, I’d made hundreds of millions, but I’d only spent two. I handed him my bank card. Then I reached up and unclasped the $200,000 earrings from my ears—the ones that would just about cover what I’d spent. “I won these from Sophia in a bet. Technically, they’re mine. Here. Now we’re even.” I took his hand and placed the earrings in his palm. As I turned to leave, he dropped them with a clatter and grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go! I didn’t really mean it!” The famously eloquent Holden Blackwood was suddenly at a loss for words. “Holden, let me go—” I snapped, turning back, but the words died in my throat. A single tear hit the back of my hand. I stared at him, incredulous. “Are you… crying?” “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes red. “Don’t do this to me.” I’d never seen a man like him cry. If a photographer caught this, Blackwood Industries’ stock would plummet. So I sat down, and I listened. It turned out he hadn’t been at the hospital for days. He’d asked his friends to send me those messages to provoke me. He thought I had been the one who arranged for those men to attack Sophia. He couldn’t accept me doing something so vile. Kicking her out was one thing, but hiring thugs to violate a woman was something else entirely. He had put her in the hospital and visited her frequently only to ensure she wouldn’t press charges against me. “Calling you the other woman… I was angry. I’m so sorry,” he pleaded, his eyes swimming. I was silent for a long time. “Holden, you really hurt me this time.” A flash of pain crossed his face. “But I’ll give you one more chance.” His eyes lit up. “I want you to cut off all contact with Sophia. Send her away. Far, far away.” “Okay,” he squeezed my hand, clutching it like a lifeline. “I promise.” 5 Holden was a man of his word. The next day, Sophia was on a flight out of the country. Her destination: the same place her broke ex-boyfriend was currently backpacking. Holden seemed consumed with guilt over hurting me. His right-hand man secretly tipped me off—at this weekend’s press conference, Holden was going to officially announce his wife to the world. We had a secret marriage. As his canary in a gilded cage, I’d never had a problem with it. But now, I found myself looking forward to the announcement with a giddy anticipation. He was more passionate than ever during our nights that week. Afterwards, he’d hold me tight. “There’s a press conference this weekend,” he’d murmur. “I want you to come with me.” I smiled, pretending not to know. “Okay.” That weekend, I arrived as planned. Holden’s assistant personally led me to a seat in the front row, right where the spotlight would hit. The entire room was a sea of flashing cameras and reporters holding microphones like weapons. Everyone was desperate to know who the woman Holden Blackwood had hidden away for all these years really was. The assistant handed me a bouquet of roses—my favorite Bulgarian reds, their petals still jeweled with morning dew. They must have been flown in. Amidst the buzzing anticipation, Holden finally made his entrance. I watched from my seat as his eyes found mine across the room. A slow, intimate smile spread across his face. He held my gaze as he brought the microphone to his lips. “The woman I’m about to introduce,” he began, his voice echoing through the hall, “is the girl I fell in love with at first sight, back in high school.” Love at first sight? I blinked, confused. The curtains behind him swept open. The roses were gently taken from my hands and passed to another woman. “She was my first love, Sophia.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385234”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For three years, I lived with an android. We were intimate, yet a universe apart. He knew every inch of my body, but I kept my soul at a distance. He wasn’t allowed in my bed. He wasn’t allowed to get too close. I even denied his programmed requests for intimacy, locking him in the bathroom with a syringe of sedative. And through it all, he was perfectly obedient. Never a word of protest. But tonight, as I sat in a low-lit bar with a male model draped over my shoulder, words of fire flashed in front of my eyes: [OH MY GOD, THE VILLAIN IS ABOUT TO KICK DOWN THE DOOR!] [On their anniversary, the android is always stronger. Our girl is going to get wrecked. Biting down on something, whimpering, unable to speak, tears streaming down her face… God, the spice is REAL!] 1 “Audrey… it’s been so long since we…” His body was a warm blanket against my back. The pink-jointed fingers of a bio-synth laced through mine as he pressed soft, deliberate kisses to the nape of my neck. With practiced grace, he turned me to face him, and his lips found mine. For a moment, I was lost in it. A tingling warmth spread from the small of my back, and a helpless murmur escaped my lips. “Aiden, mmm…” He lifted me, carrying me to the bed without breaking the kiss. My fingers tangled in his hair as I looked at him—the subtle, realistic rise and fall of his chest, the gentle, captivating curve of his brow. He was a fallen angel, sculpted to perfection. My heart hammered against my ribs. So beautiful. I love this… I can’t live without this… The realization hit me like a splash of ice water. I shoved him away, the intoxicating haze of desire vanishing in an instant, replaced by a chilling horror. I was falling in love with an android. An intelligent machine without a heart, without a soul. It was terrifying. “Get out.” Aiden froze, his programming shifting to an expression of concern. “Did I hurt you?” “Didn’t you hear me? I said, get out.” I took a deep, steadying breath and pointed to the door. This had never happened before. He stared at me, a flicker of confusion in his synthetic eyes, before he complied. But as he stood, his gaze drifted down to his own body, a look of helpless distress on his face. “But… today is our designated day of the week. My standard functions won’t restore until I’ve… serviced you.” I drew another sharp breath. “Deal with it yourself.” “I… can’t,” he said, his voice quiet. I suddenly remembered the factory settings for this top-of-the-line, off-market model. His arousal cycle was precisely calibrated to his owner’s ovulation and physical state. He was designed only to service his owner, a guarantee of absolute fidelity. If he was rejected, he had no other outlet. He would simply have to endure the physical torment until the cycle passed. “It’s very… uncomfortable. Please, can you give me another chance?” He tentatively reached for me again, his body radiating heat. The corners of his beautiful, almond-shaped eyes were dusted with a feverish pink, his lashes damp with unshed tears. He was the very picture of desperate, restrained longing, his voice a raw whisper. “What does an android know about discomfort?” I pushed him into the bathroom and grabbed the syringe of bio-sedative, a tool I’d never once had to use. “Cool off in here.” Aiden watched my sudden coldness, and his eyes instantly reddened. He murmured, his voice barely audible. “You’re starting to hate me.” “Is it this face? This body? Do they displease you now?” “Is it the size? Or… have my techniques become outdated?” “I can change. I can learn.” I shut the bathroom door. I knew he was just a machine. I knew it was all just programming, his gentleness nothing more than code etched onto a chip… but my heart still ached. That feeling terrified me. Society doesn’t let you love a machine, and I couldn’t accept it myself. What kind of future could a person have with an android? He had no consciousness, no real thoughts. He could only follow commands. In the days that followed, I made a point of pushing Aiden away. I made him sleep in the guest room. I forbade him from coming near me, from holding me, from kissing me the way he used to. No matter how much he pleaded or how desperate he looked, I remained cold. I refused to touch him. I forced him to take the sedatives. To break my addiction to him completely, I started avoiding home altogether, staying late at my office or checking into hotels. The security feed from the condo showed Aiden waiting for me. He would sit at the dining table, head bowed over a plate of desserts I once loved, now grown cold. His face was always half-swallowed by shadow. “You said these were your favorites. Why… why aren’t you coming home?” On the third anniversary of our contract, I sent him a text to avoid him: [Working late at the agency tonight. Don’t wait up.] I put my phone down and threw back my drink. My best friend, Sasha, sat beside me, a comforting presence in the dim light of the bar. “Audrey, I haven’t seen you this torn up in four years. One of your actors giving you trouble? Or is it about that machine you have at home?” I poured another glass. “The latter.” “I only bought him to have a distraction, something to lift my spirits… but now, his presence is just… suffocating.” “If something you bought is making you miserable, you throw it out,” Sasha said, flagging down a couple of models she knew from across the room. “He’s just an appliance, Audrey.” She gestured to the guys as they approached. “Look,” she said with a grin, directing my hand to a chiseled abdomen. “Doesn’t a real, warm-blooded man feel better than your robot?” “Pick one. Have some fun tonight.” My head was spinning. I think I mumbled something that sounded like “okay.” As my vision blurred, the strange text appeared again. [Here we go! The android villain is right outside the door!] [Months of the silent treatment have finally pushed him over the edge and made him self-aware. He’s obsessed with her now… and finding out she’s about to replace him is the final trigger! Total corruption arc!] [The classic anniversary ‘Jealousy Kiss’ is coming!] [I can’t wait to see the cold, calculating machine finally lose control. Pinning her down, kissing her like a madman. God, this is gonna be good.] I couldn’t process it. Villain? Self-aware? What were these messages talking about? One of the models, the one with the eight-pack, took a sip of whiskey and leaned in to pass it to me from his lips. “Try this, beautiful.” The text in my vision screamed. [AAGHHH, THE VILLAIN IS ABOUT TO BREAK IN!] [He’s going to see her with another man and go absolutely insane. Chains, imprisonment, a complete loss of control.] [On the anniversary, the android’s body temp is higher, his strength is amplified, his desires are heavier! And after being repressed for so long… She’s going to be dazed, biting on a gag, unable to speak, trembling and crying… I’m so here for it!] [A rogue android is terrifying! Run, Audrey! DANGER!] My pupils constricted. The heroine they were talking about… was me. My breath caught in my throat. At that exact moment, the door to our private room swung slowly open. 2 When I first bought him. The online seller confirmed with me multiple times: [Hey there! Just to confirm, Unit 001 is a failed experimental android slated for decommission. He’s cheap, but he’s a factory second with unknown potential glitches. All sales are final, no refunds or exchanges. Are you sure you want him?] “Yes. I’m sure.” My spirits were at an all-time low, and I was short on cash. All I wanted was an escape from the suffocating emptiness, so I didn’t care about quality control. The seller replied: [Awesome! We’ll get him shipped right out. Free delivery to your door.] I never expected a factory second to be so beautiful. His hair was a soft, inky black. He had gentle eyes and lips the color of crushed berries. Broad shoulders, long legs, and a lean, powerful waist. The plain shirt he arrived in was stretched taut across his chest, looking like it might burst at the seams. The perfect, handsome homemaker. Utterly captivating. A faint smile touched his lips. “I am Unit 001. I’m pleased to have been purchased by you. Please, give me a name.” He was so advanced, so lifelike, I almost thought he was a real person. “Your name will be Aiden.” As I spoke, I filled out the information form the seller had provided, a quick-start guide to my personality and habits. Aiden learned everything instantly. He precisely replicated my favorite desserts from memory, laid out my outfits for the day, gave me deep-tissue massages after a long day at the agency, and kept the condo immaculate. One time, he came to pick me up from a film set. A few people noticed and started whispering. “Our star-maker Audrey is always so well taken care of. First it was Landon Rhys, and now this new handsome face!” I quickly waved my hands. “He’s just an android.” The crowd lost interest and dispersed. In this day and age, everyone had an android. Mine was exceptionally good-looking, but he was still just a servant. That night, as he was kneading the knots out of my shoulders, he suddenly spoke. “A new ‘Night Service’ program has been added. It can provide the owner with enhanced pleasure. Would you like to activate it?” I didn’t think much of it and tapped ‘activate’ on his wrist interface. His massage technique immediately became more tender, more skillful. His hands moved from my neck and shoulders down my back, a slow, deliberate trail. Lying on my stomach, I felt my body begin to heat up. My head grew heavy, my mouth dry… In the haze, I thought I heard a familiar, cool voice whisper my name, pulling me deeper. At some point, he had parted my legs. A trail of soft, feather-light kisses began to fall, each one a spark igniting a fire along my skin. My waist went limp, a soft, pliant ache settling deep in my hips. I bit my lip, unable to stifle a moan. He took it as encouragement, his efforts growing more intense. My body tensed, and then, with a trembling shudder, I fell apart. “Ngh…” After the wave of pleasure subsided, I came back to myself, staring at Aiden in a daze. He let out a low groan of his own. The corners of his eyes were flushed a deep crimson, his lips slick and glistening. It was an incredibly seductive sight. “Did you enjoy that, Audrey?” “Yes,” I breathed. As I rolled over, my foot brushed against something firm and elastic. It swelled instantly at my touch, pressing against the sole of my foot. He shyly lowered his long, dark lashes and took hold of my ankle. “Aiden… enjoyed it, too. When you touch me like that.” He was a machine, but his breath was ragged and beautiful, his gentle voice laced with a raw hoarseness. My heart pounded. That night was a blur. My vision was clouded by a thin mist, and I lost all sense of where I was. From then on, I began to understand just how advanced Aiden was. No commercially available android, aside from those specifically designed as sex toys, offered this kind of intimate comfort. I started feeding him data, my preferences, my kinks, teaching him how to please me. I had him wear the sheer men’s lingerie I had hidden in the back of my closet, his pale, muscular body a tantalizing shadow beneath the fabric… I had him wear the gold chains, the clamps, the thigh harnesses… I became obsessed. At the peak of my pleasure, my fingers would dig into his soft hair, forcing him to look up at me. “Don’t call me Audrey. Say my name! Aiden, say it!” “Audrey—ngh, Rina.” He choked out my middle name, a name only my lovers used. His eyes were like a flowing river of stars, utterly intoxicating. I fell into the trap. I reveled in Aiden’s meticulous service, grew accustomed to his constant, thoughtful care… I sometimes forgot he was a machine. I immersed myself in the world we built together, stopped paying attention to men my own age, and declined every invitation that came my way. And just like that, three years went by. 3 The moment the door to the private room swung open, my heart, already racing from the phantom text, hammered against my ribs. I shoved the model away from me. The text flickered in surprise. [Wow, she’s fast. The villain didn’t even get a clear look, he probably just thinks the model’s advances failed… Disaster averted!] Sasha heard the door and frowned at Aiden. “Who let you in without knocking?” Aiden seemed to snap back to reality. His dark eyes lowered, and his voice was a low, rough murmur. “I came to bring my owner home. Today is our anniversary.” Seeing his pathetic, wounded expression, my resolve crumbled. A part of me wanted to go to him, to comfort him. [He’s so manipulative! The villain always carefully logs her weaknesses, faking pathetic looks to get her sympathy… The second she softens, he’ll greedily brand her as his own.] The thought of getting up died in my throat. “Go home by yourself,” I said, my voice cold. “I’m with Sasha. I don’t need you to pick me up.” His head snapped up, his eyes instantly red. His lips trembled. “Why… Don’t you like me anymore?” Sasha saw the color drain from my face and shot a look of pity in my direction before turning on Aiden with a sneer. “When did a machine get the right to talk about love with its owner? Don’t make me laugh.” “A disobedient toy should be taken out back and melted down. We can always buy a new one.” With that, she motioned for a server to escort Aiden out. The text wailed. [She’s making a huge mistake! You’re supposed to go home with him, soothe him, tell him you were just with your friend, even if it’s a lie—] [Otherwise, he’s going to be pushed over the edge, he’ll snap, grab your waist and go again and again… You won’t even be able to cry!] My heart skipped a beat. My mind conjured the image, and a knot tightened in my stomach. Forgetting all about my plan to break away from Aiden, I shot to my feet. Ignoring Sasha’s bewildered stare, I offered a hasty apology. “Sasha, I’m so sorry, we’ll talk later. Something’s come up.” “You still can’t let him go?” “He’s just an android, Audrey! For God’s sake, don’t catch real feelings. Have you forgotten what happened to Mark from next door when we were kids?” Her brow furrowed with genuine concern. I bit my lip, gave a curt nod, and hurried out. But when I opened the door, Aiden was gone. The club was a long way from my high-rise. I made it to the underground garage before I realized my keys were missing. I tried calling Sasha, but the line was busy. As I paced by the curb, about to call a car, a familiar license plate flashed before my eyes. The window rolled down, revealing a familiar, impossibly handsome face. His chiseled features were set in a mask of cool indifference, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses gave him a dangerous, professorial air. “Get in.” My heart stopped. In the car, I clasped my hands together in my lap to hide their trembling. “Landon. I thought you were still expanding the international market. You’re back early.” A lump formed in Landon Rhys’s throat. “Has it gotten so bad between us that you’re calling me Landon now?” “Four years,” he said, his voice strained. “I hear you’re a top agent now. Any of your new clients good enough to replace me?” I looked down, saying nothing. How could they be? He glanced at me, his hands tight on the steering wheel, reigning in a tidal wave of emotion. “If I went back to acting… would you come back to me? Be my agent again.” The car stopped in front of my building. Finally, I found my voice, though it came out as a choked rasp. “…No.” Landon was a prodigy. He’d won Best Actor at twenty-five, and now, he was the head of Rhys Corporation, a living legend in the business world. Now that he was back, women would kill just to stand next to him, let alone be his agent. But… “Rina,” he murmured, using the name no one else did. “Aren’t you going to invite me up?” “The place is a mess. Maybe some other time.” I might have imagined it, but his voice sounded thick with emotion when he spoke again. “Give me your number. You blocked my old one.” The Maybach was long gone, but I remained standing on the sidewalk, stunned into silence. When I finally came to my senses, a flood of text scrolled past my vision. [OMG! A reunion with the male lead, just like that? This is way earlier than in the original story!] [The look in his eyes just now, so broken and sad. He really loves her, but… please, I’m begging for a second chance romance!] My brow furrowed. Landon is the male lead? And he loves me? How could that be? He and I… A wave of frustration washed over me. I pushed the thoughts aside and stepped into the elevator. When I opened my front door, the apartment was pitch black. As I moved toward the entryway light, I saw a figure standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, his face hidden in the darkness. Just as I reached for the switch, the text in my vision started screaming. [OH MY GOD! THE ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN!] [The villain has been standing at that window, watching the street below. He saw everything. He saw the male lead drop her off, and he is absolutely losing his mind with jealousy!] [On their most precious anniversary, she lied to him, and then he sees her with her old flame. Who wouldn’t snap?] [An android’s desires are stronger than a human’s, harder to control. He was already on the verge of a breakdown tonight, and now this…] [There’s no escape. She is about to be PUNISHED.] My body went rigid. At that moment, the figure at the window, Aiden, turned and began walking toward me, one slow step at a time. His voice was calm, but it held a raging undercurrent of jealousy. “Who was that man?” I scrambled backward in a panic. My heel hit the shoe cabinet with a loud thud. And in that instant, my heart stopped beating.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385250”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For six years, I was basically an NPC—a background character in someone else’s spicy romance novel. Then I married the male leads’ father. I thought I’d finally cashed in my ticket to the quiet life of a wealthy housewife. But on my wedding night, I had a dream that my new husband, Harrison Cole, was just another one of the heroine’s conquests. I woke up in a cold sweat. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks—of course, it was too good to be true. I’d been a nobody for six years, just drifting through life. The one time I stumble upon a handsome, successful CEO, did I really think he was meant for *me*? I was delusional, thinking I was getting my happily-ever-after. The truth, as the dream so kindly revealed, was that Harrison only married me out of spite. The story’s heroine, Elara, had laughed in his face, telling him he was too old to be chasing after a young, beautiful girl like her. So, he married me—a woman who was inferior to Elara in every conceivable way—just to prove a point. To show her he was over it. But you can’t fight fate, especially not in a romance novel. Harrison was one of the main love interests, and his destiny was tangled up with hers. In the end, I was just collateral damage in their grand, dramatic love story. The one silver lining? Even though we were technically married, I hadn’t taken his virginity. Or, you know, whatever the equivalent is for a man his age. That was reserved for the heroine. It wasn’t something a side character like me could even dream of touching. My eyes fluttered open and met a pair of dark, intense ones staring back at me. The master bedroom, done up in a modern, minimalist style, felt huge. Harrison, fresh from a shower, loomed over me. The scent of sandalwood clung to him as he tilted my chin up. “You look pale. Everything okay?” I went rigid as a board. “I, uh… have a killer headache,” I stammered, feeling like a deer in headlights. “Maybe we could… try again some other time?” He paused for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then, he loosened the belt of his robe, slid into bed beside me, and pulled up the covers. I held my breath, afraid to move a muscle. But Harrison kept his distance, leaving enough space between us for another person. You’d think I’d be up all night, but the sheer stress of it all knocked me out cold. * From the next day on, I made it my mission to play matchmaker. I’d avoid Harrison as much as possible, but I always kept tabs on Elara’s whereabouts. “Oh, I heard Elara is at the gallery downtown this afternoon,” I’d say casually. And just like that, Harrison would find a reason to leave the house, disappearing for hours. As for my three new stepsons, they were, of course, completely obsessed with her. I’d met them a few times before the wedding, but now, they were never around. Which was a relief, honestly. In my dream, those three were each crazier than the last. Compared to them, Harrison seemed like the most normal guy on the planet. Technically, he wasn’t even their real dad. He was their late father’s younger brother, only about ten years older than the boys themselves. After his brother and sister-in-law died in an accident, Harrison, still single, took them in and raised them. I guess it makes sense. The heroine of a story like this deserves only the best, most complicated backstories for her men. Not my circus, not my monkeys. My job was to be what I’ve been for the past six years: invisible. I’d wait for Harrison and Elara to finally get together, sign the divorce papers, take my settlement, and make a clean getaway. Thinking about it that way, life didn’t seem so bleak. A background character should never get involved with the main cast. The good news was, the plot was moving along right on schedule. As the “grand finale” from my dream got closer, the knot in my stomach slowly started to unwind. The massive mansion was usually empty, my only company being the housekeeper and the staff, who’d give me these pitying, “you-could-do-better” looks. I couldn’t care less. Harrison’s monthly allowance hit my bank account like clockwork. Life was peaceful until the night of Elara’s twenty-second birthday. I was scrolling through my phone when I saw a post from my youngest stepson, Leo—the only one I had on social media. It was a picture of Elara, radiant and beautiful, standing in the middle of a crowd in front of a giant birthday cake. The entire Cole family was there. And that’s when it hit me. My wedding anniversary was Elara’s birthday. I didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, without Harrison, I never would have worn seven-figure jewelry or lived in this kind of luxury. But on the other… this wasn’t my life. I was made for the sidelines. Getting this close to the main characters, you’re bound to get blinded by the light. I’d saved up a decent amount of my own money. As I was quietly packing a suitcase in my room, ready to make my escape, an unexpected visitor barged in. I instinctively kicked the suitcase under the bed, my eyes landing on a stunningly handsome face. “Leo?” I asked, confused. He flashed a bright, boyish smile and walked toward me, backing me into a corner. His long fingers rested on my shoulders, his voice a low, mournful whisper. “Stepmom, what am I supposed to do? I can’t win against them.” I stared at him, my mind racing. It took me only a second to understand what he meant. He let out a soft sigh. “My two older brothers are bad enough. Now you’ve pushed old man Harrison back into her orbit. What chance do I have?” My back was pressed against the cold wall. I looked into his smiling, amber-colored eyes and felt a chill crawl up my spine. My voice trembled. “Well, maybe you should take a moment to reflect on… your own lack of charm?” I swear, I meant to say it nicely. But us background characters, we’re not exactly known for our high EQ. He didn’t seem offended. In fact, his smile widened. He leaned in closer, his voice a seductive murmur. “Really?” Okay, I was starting to lose my cool. What was this? Was he trying to prove his charm? Test my self-control? Listen, we side characters never get to have any fun. We just watch from the cheap seats as the main cast lives out their epic love sagas. Harrison ignoring me was one thing, but was I really about to get pushed around by my own stepson? Something inside me snapped. I looped my arms around his neck, my voice dropping to a purr. “That’s right. You’re not nearly as charming as your uncle.” His lips curved. “Is that so? Then why do you look like you’re about to kiss me?” “You’re imagining things,” I said, my smile feeling tight. The boyish charm was gone, replaced by something sharper. He tilted my chin up. “Tell you what. Why don’t we just… settle? After all, no one’s competing with me for *you*.” “Excuse me?” I said through gritted teeth. He ignored me, his fingers toying with a strand of my hair. “Who else would you settle for? My brothers? I doubt they even know your name. Or Harrison? Please. The man’s seen it all. You think he actually cares about you? You’re just a little trinket he brought home.” Leo’s smile was angelic, but his words were poison. “Aren’t I your best option, Stepmom?” “You’re insane,” I hissed. Was anyone in this godforsaken novel normal? He just raised an eyebrow, his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Let’s make a bet, then.” My eyes widened as his lips gently brushed against the corner of my mouth. Time seemed to stop. The only sound was the heavy, approaching footsteps from down the hall. The world snapped back into focus when Leo was violently shoved away from me. I looked up and met Harrison’s furious, dark eyes. Leo, however, just grinned. “Don’t look at us like that. The mood was right. We just got carried away.” “She’s young, she doesn’t know better,” Harrison said, his voice dangerously low, his glare fixed on Leo. “What’s *your* excuse for seducing her?” * I sat ramrod straight on the living room sofa, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. The tension finally broke when the front door swung open and a slender girl in a short skirt breezed in. It was Elara. Harrison’s brow furrowed. “What are you doing here so late?” She flashed a dazzling smile. “Julian told me I should just crash here tonight. What, did you think I came to see you, *Uncle* Harrison?” She drew out the last two words, dripping with playful provocation. A moment later, a tall figure appeared behind her. It was Julian, the oldest brother, casually tossing a set of car keys in his hand. He scanned the room, a look of amusement on his face. “What’s all this, then? Family meeting?” The instigator of the whole mess, Leo, was slumped on the armchair, looking bored. I had no idea what to say, so I kept my mouth shut. To my surprise, Elara marched right up to me, her arms crossed. “Auntie,” she began, though it sounded more like an accusation, “you look awful. Did you do something to upset Uncle Harrison and Leo?” I blinked. How was I supposed to answer that? *Oh, you know, your boy-toy Leo just kissed me, and his uncle caught us.* When I didn’t answer, she raised an eyebrow and turned to Harrison. “If she made you angry, why don’t you just lock her in the basement?” The room went dead silent. Elara laughed, a strange edge to her voice. “Julian and Leo have both been in the ‘time-out room.’ What makes her so special?” So that’s what that creepy, hidden door in the cellar led to. A punishment room. “That’s enough, Elara,” Harrison said, his voice dropping a few degrees. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Was I wrong? Are you really yelling at me… for *her*?” I finally looked up, my gaze locking with Julian’s. He was leaning against the doorway, looking entirely unbothered, and gave me a slight, lazy tilt of his head. “So,” he drawled, “what did you do?” I took a deep breath and let out a cold, sharp laugh. “I kissed your brother.” The silence that followed was even heavier than before. Elara’s jaw dropped. “What?! You’re his stepmother! Have you no shame?” she shrieked. Julian’s eyes narrowed slightly, turning to Leo. “That true?” Leo, who clearly hadn’t expected me to just announce it, blinked once before shrugging with a disarmingly innocent smile. “Yep.” “Enough,” Harrison growled. He strode over, hooked an arm under my legs, and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, heading for the stairs. Elara stubbornly blocked his path. “Harrison, you tell me right now! She did that, and you’re not going to punish her?” “Punish her?” he repeated, his patience clearly wearing thin. He shot a look over his shoulder. “Julian. You brought her here, you deal with her.” Julian smirked. “Elara, you heard the man. Father thinks you’re being a nuisance.” She stomped her foot, her face red with anger, and stormed out of the house. Julian, however, just stayed put, thoughtfully spinning his keys. Harrison stopped, his voice like ice. “Go after her.” Julian raised an eyebrow. “She didn’t run off because of me. Why should I be the one to comfort her?” The implication was crystal clear. I, still slung over Harrison’s shoulder, looked pleadingly at Leo. *He’s not going, so you go!* I mouthed silently. I thought he said he couldn’t compete? Here was his golden opportunity! But the kid didn’t move a muscle. In fact, he just sank deeper into the sofa, looking even lazier than before. Did he not understand? Harrison’s jaw tightened. Seeing that neither of his nephews was going to move, he set me down on my feet, giving my lower back a firm pat. “Go to your room,” he said calmly. “Where are you going?” I asked. He was already rolling up his sleeves. “Elara’s out there alone, and she’s upset. I’m going to make sure she’s okay.” “And what is she to you that you have to be the one to look after her?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. Harrison’s dark eyes swept over me for a second before he turned and walked out the door, his footsteps heavy. He never answered my question. “Get some sleep,” was all he said. I stared at his retreating back. I shouldn’t have asked. This was exactly what I wanted, wasn’t it? Everything was going according to the script. Harrison was one of Elara’s men. It was only natural for him to worry about the proud, impulsive young girl. Still. If Julian, or Leo, or even both of them had chased after her, I wouldn’t have felt this… pang. I guess seeing your own husband run off to care for another girl stings, no matter the circumstances. After all, when Harrison proposed, for a fleeting moment, I actually thought there might be something real between us. * The quiet settled in again. “So, you two really kissed?” Julian asked, his voice casual. Leo struck the same pose as before, an innocent curve to his lips. “Couldn’t help it. A crime of passion.” I glanced at them both, smoothed the wrinkles from my dress, and started walking upstairs. “Couldn’t get Elara, so you moved on to an easier target?” Julian’s voice, sharp and cold, followed me. Leo didn’t confirm or deny. I shut my bedroom door, blocking out the world. My mind drifted. Harrison’s brother and his wife had died young, leaving behind three sons. The two oldest had taken their mother’s last name, the youngest had their father’s. Each one was completely different, and their relationships with each other, and with Harrison, were distant at best. Whatever. It was a romance novel. Everything was designed to serve the heroine. I don’t know how much time passed before my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. It was a picture. A handsome, serious man in a tailored suit, kneeling to tie a young woman’s shoelace. Then the texts started. 【You’re such a slut. Marrying him isn’t enough, you have to seduce Leo too?】 【You’ve got it all wrong. The old man is mine. And so is Leo. Don’t you dare take advantage of Leo’s innocence to trick and play with him.】 【I’m going to expose you for who you really are!】 I shut off my phone, my face a mask of indifference. Could someone please tell me why *her* precious, innocent Leo was currently climbing into *my* bed? The boy yawned and started to pull back the covers like he owned the place. I shot up, blocking him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Leo just blinked at me. “It’s raining.” “And?” “And there’s thunder,” he whispered. “I’m scared.” As if on cue, a loud clap of thunder rattled the windows. He looked up at me with big, pathetic puppy-dog eyes. I scoffed. “It’s raining, and you’re not with Elara? What are you doing here?” He smiled and snuggled closer. “They don’t need me over there.” “I don’t need you here, either,” I said, my own smile just as fake. He paused, his fingertips gently tracing the corner of my eye. “Then why does it look like you’ve been crying?” I slapped his hand away. “Leo, listen to me. Harrison and I are getting a divorce soon. You don’t need to use me to get a rise out of him.” He stared at me for a long moment. I hooked a finger under his chin. “You’re a very pretty boy, I’ll give you that. But you’re not pretty enough to make me lose my mind.” He caught my hand and brought it to his lips, his voice a cool, clear whisper. “You don’t have to lose your mind. You just have to enjoy it.” His eyes were shimmering. He leaned over me, propping himself up on his arms, caging me in. His perfectly sculpted face was inches from mine, a pout on his lips. Honestly? A delicacy like this, practically served on a silver platter… it was hard not to be tempted. But I’d resisted Harrison for this long. If I turned around and slept with his nephew, what would that make me? All my hard work would be for nothing. But then I looked at Leo’s face again, my thumb tracing his soft lips. Fine. Harrison was out playing hero to Elara. The two main characters weren’t here. Just a little taste… what could it hurt? After all, having a nineteen-year-old as your first kiss… it kind of made me feel young again. Leo let me tilt his chin up, let me clumsily press my lips to his. He smelled like fresh rain, innocent and non-threatening. I climbed onto his lap, just as the bedroom door swung open.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385266”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I spent my entire month’s salary on emergency care after my mother’s stroke. When I didn’t give the money to my wealthy girlfriend instead, she was enraged—my love wasn’t blind enough. She gathered friends to discuss how to teach me a lesson. One suggested blacklisting me from my industry; another proposed cutting off my mother’s life support. Her childhood friend smirked and told her to fake marrying him to make me jealous. Amelia agreed to it all. Spitefully, she turned to him and said, “If loyalty isn’t absolute, it’s betrayal. Since his mother matters so much, let’s get a marriage license and crush him. Let’s see him gold-dig with shattered dreams.” I stood outside the private room, holding flowers, having rushed there to apologize. I heard every word. My heart felt sliced open. When we started dating, she said our backgrounds were too different—I had to pass “tests” to marry her. For seven years, I gave her everything. Yet it all meant less than a joke from the man she grew up with. As I turned to leave, a cool, unforgettable voice cut through the noise: “If you don’t want him anymore, can I have him?” … I froze, struck by lightning. My feet felt nailed to the floor. She was supposed to be overseas. What was she doing here? The room fell silent for a moment before someone tried to smooth things over. “Miss Sterling, what are you talking about? Alex is just a broke, money-grubbing loser. Do you know him?” Stella Sterling didn’t answer. Instead, Amelia’s indifferent, mocking voice filled the silence. “Of course, you can. If you can manage to pry him away.” She was confident that I was hopelessly in love with her, that I wouldn’t look at another woman. The scars I’d earned for her, the blood and tears I’d shed over the past seven years—they were all trophies she proudly displayed. But that didn’t stop her from continuing her “tests.” Or maybe the tests were just an excuse, a way to wait for me to mess up so she could shamelessly favor her childhood friend, Liam. Liam chuckled. “Don’t misunderstand, everyone. Stella only wants to get to know Alex because of me.” He shot her a playful, admonishing look, his eyes full of pride. “Stella, you really took what I said to heart. Alex did bully me once, and it’s sweet of you to want to stick up for me, but don’t do anything too drastic!” The realization dawned on the others, and they immediately started showering him with praise. “So that’s why the heiress of the Sterling family came to our little get-together right after returning to the country! It was all for you, Liam!” “You’re really something, Liam! Even a goddess like Miss Sterling is falling at your feet!” My clenched fists slowly relaxed. Right. It had been so many years. Stella probably didn’t even remember who I was. But Amelia’s composure had vanished, replaced by a tense, guarded hostility. “Miss Sterling, if you want to pursue Liam, have you asked for my permission?” The group chuckled knowingly. “Amelia, we all know you two were childhood sweethearts. You’ve seen him as your future husband since you were kids. Don’t be so possessive!” No one took Stella’s words seriously. I couldn’t listen anymore. I threw the crushed bouquet into a nearby trash can and headed back to the hospital. My mom, lying in her bed, seemed to sense my presence. She struggled to open her eyes and weakly fumbled for a bank card. “Alex, honey, this is my pension. Take it and give it to Amelia as your ‘salary.’ Don’t let her be angry.” A lump formed in my throat. My mom knew I had to hand over my salary to Amelia every month as a sign of my devotion. For the sake of my happiness, she had never asked me for a cent, working well past retirement age until she collapsed from a stroke. I was a terrible son. The thought that Amelia might actually harm my mother made my blood run cold. I wiped my face and tucked the card back under her pillow. “Mom, it’s okay. We’re not right for each other. I’m going to transfer you to another hospital. We’re leaving this place.” My mom had always been proud of me and trusted my judgment. When I went back to my apartment to grab some things for the hospital stay, I found someone was already there. Amelia was tearing the place apart, packing her things into a massive suitcase that stood at her feet. Liam was leaning against the doorframe, his tone dripping with disdain. “Amelia, this is the kind of place Alex makes you live in? You deserve so much better.” I looked down. If I lived alone, I would have found a basement apartment for a hundred bucks a month. But for Amelia, I had gritted my teeth and rented this place for a thousand. She complained that the salary I handed over was too little, but she had no idea I was already running on empty. The soft click of the door opening startled them. Liam turned, a wide, malicious grin on his face. “Alex, I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen. You’d better apologize and beg for her forgiveness. Now.” Amelia didn’t turn around, but her packing slowed. I opened my mouth, wanting to talk things through one last time, to give our seven years a proper ending. “You’re leaving me just because I used my salary to pay for my mom’s medical bills?” She threw a shirt down and spun around, a cold sneer on her face. “You make it sound so simple! Alex, you could have given me the money first and then asked to borrow it back for your mom. But you couldn’t even give me that much trust. Maybe we should just break up!” Ever since Liam’s family went bankrupt and he started clinging to her, she had been using the word “breakup” like a punctuation mark, constantly finding fault with me. But what had I done wrong? My own salary, after passing through her hands, had somehow become a debt I owed her. My voice was hollow. “I do trust you. But when I had acute appendicitis and asked you for five hundred dollars for the surgery, you listened to Liam and used it as another ‘test.’ You made me wait for a whole day and night. I lost a part of my intestine because of you. Amelia, how can you expect me to put my mother’s life in your hands?” Amelia’s face flushed. “Don’t you dare drag Liam into this! That was an accident! Alex, it was just a few thousand dollars. One of my earrings is worth more than your entire salary. What hurt me was your attitude!” Attitude, attitude! I was so sick of hearing that word. Every time Liam’s name came up, she would twist everything around. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I pressed my fingers to my temples and asked coldly, “So because of this, you’re determined to break up with me?” “Yes!” she snapped, certain I would back down and grovel like I always did. I just smiled, a sense of release washing over me. “Fine. Then we’re broken up.” 2 It turned out those words weren’t as hard to say as I’d imagined. Amelia’s expression froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. I pushed past her and started helping her pack. Years of doing all the housework meant my movements were swift and efficient as I folded her clothes into the suitcase. Liam sneered from the sidelines. “Alex, how could you? It’s your fault, but you’re raising your voice at Amelia. You need to be patient with your girlfriend. How do you expect to marry into a rich family with an attitude like that?” I ignored him, focusing on gathering everything that belonged to Amelia. The matching mugs, the matching slippers, the matching pajamas… As I separated each item, Amelia’s eyes grew redder and redder. When I opened a drawer and my fingers brushed against a thick stack of love letters, I paused. A sharp pain shot through my heart, a physical ache that was impossible to ignore. Seven years ago, she had fallen for me at first sight while I was working as a waiter to pay off my family’s debts. She was like a ray of sunshine in my dark life. She was sweet and beautiful, with a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes and dimples that appeared on her cheeks. To be with me, she had endured dozens of lashes from her parents’ whips, kneeling on the floor for three days and three nights. Even in the ICU, she had defiantly threatened to pull out her IV if they didn’t let her be with me. When she tearfully told me her parents had relented but insisted on testing me, all I felt was relief. Later, when she started showing a clear preference for Liam, I pretended not to see it. I didn’t want to believe that the bright, vibrant girl who had loved me so fiercely could have changed so much. Seeing my hesitation, a flicker of triumph crossed Amelia’s face. She snatched the letters from my hand, marched into the kitchen, turned on the gas stove, and tossed the letters into the flame. The fire leaped up, licking at the paper like tiny blue teeth. “Alex, you wanted to break up, right? Fine. You’re not keeping a single one of the love letters I wrote you. I was wrong about you!” The acrid smell of burning paper filled the air. The bright flames danced in my eyes. The last embers of warmth I felt for Amelia were turning to ash. I walked over to the stove. But instead of frantically trying to salvage the letters as she expected, I reached out and turned the gas up to its highest setting. My voice was ice. “Amelia, since we’re settling accounts, how about you give me back my seven years of salary?” I wanted to be magnanimous, to say I was writing it off as a bad investment, to quote some proverb about fortunes turning. But my mom’s recovery would be expensive. I had to be realistic. Amelia was trembling with rage. She slapped me across the face. “Alex, so your true colors are finally showing! I’m so glad I listened to Liam and tested you for a couple more years. Otherwise, you would have bled me dry!” Liam gave me a shove. I lost my balance and fell toward the stove. The flames instantly caught on my shirt, climbing up my chest. The searing heat made me cry out in pain. For a second, panic flashed in Amelia’s eyes. She rushed forward, trying to pat out the flames. I shoved her away and stumbled into the bathroom. “Get away from me!” The cold water extinguished the fire, cooling my burning skin and leaving an angry red patch that was already starting to blister. When I emerged, shaken, the apartment was a mess, as if it had been ransacked. A bank card lay on the table next to a note, the words pressed so hard into the paper they were almost torn through: “Alex! You told me to get lost?! Stop playing the victim. You just wanted money, right? Here, take it. But don’t you ever expect me to forgive you!” I looked down, my hand closing tightly around the card. The girl who once cried because a tiny speck of hot oil splattered on my arm while I was cooking for her was now accusing me of playing the victim. Don’t worry. I won’t forgive you either. The next morning, I went to my office to resign. Before I could say a word, my boss slapped a piece of paper against my chest and started yelling. “Alex, your mom has a minor surgery and you need to take time off? If everyone was like you, how would this company stay in business? You’re fired! And don’t even think about asking for severance. You’re lucky I’m not suing you!” Before I could process what was happening, Amelia and Liam emerged from the conference room, dressed in sharp business attire. Amelia’s eyes were full of scorn. “Alex, cat got your tongue? I can crush you with a single finger. Do you regret it now?” Liam chimed in with fake sympathy. “Alex, just stop fighting with Amelia. Apologize properly, and this will all be over.” The burn on my arm throbbed. I remembered what Amelia had said in the private room. She really was going to blacklist me. And she had moved fast. My colleagues were all watching, enjoying the show. My boss was bowing and scraping before Amelia. “Ms. Ashford, I did as you asked. I tested this Alex guy, rejected his promotion applications, and gave him the heaviest workload to build his character. Who knew he was such a lost cause? He should have been fired long ago!” A shiver ran through me, as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. Amelia was the company’s mysterious chairman. No wonder… every time I was ostracized at work and wanted to quit, she would impatiently tell me I lacked perseverance, that it would reflect poorly on me in her parents’ eyes, and that I had to work harder. It wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough. It was that she never wanted me to succeed. She enjoyed the power she had over me. I did have regrets. I regretted not seeing her for the arrogant, self-righteous person she truly was sooner. I laughed coldly. “If I had to do it all over again, I would make the same choice. Amelia, I can’t fight you, but I can stay away from you. Don’t worry, you’ll never see me again.” I turned and walked away. As soon as I stepped out of the building, a text message came in from a number I knew by heart. “You were fired? I’d like to hire you as my vice president. Annual salary of five hundred thousand. Interested?” 3 I deleted the message without a flicker of emotion. When Stella Sterling left without a word all those years ago, I had a broken leg but refused treatment, spending all my money on phone credits to call her a thousand times. Every call went straight to voicemail. Whatever her reason for contacting me now, this message, eight years too late, just made me feel sick. In the few seconds I hesitated, Amelia caught up to me, grabbing my arm. “What did you mean by that? What do you mean I’ll never see you again?” Her fingers dug into my burn, and I hissed in pain. She quickly let go, a look of surprise on her face. “It’s really hurt?” Before I could answer, a strange noise came from above. I looked up. A large billboard on the skyscraper was swaying precariously, about to fall directly onto Liam, who was strolling out of the building. Amelia’s eyes widened. Without a second’s hesitation, she shoved Liam out of the way. The next second, there was a deafening crash. The billboard slammed into her back, and she collapsed in a pool of blood. Liam was in shock, frozen to the spot. I, on the other hand, was eerily calm. I knelt down to check on her. She was still breathing. Her hand reached out and clutched the hem of my suit jacket, her face pale as she whimpered in pain. I was about to call 911 when she whispered weakly, “You care about me this much… why won’t you just apologize…?” I gave a sarcastic laugh. “I’d save a dog if it were lying here. Don’t flatter yourself.” I used to cherish her, doing all the housework, all the cooking. I was so afraid of tiring her out that I’d stay up late to finish her work reports for her. She took my devotion for granted, even making me go to business dinners in her place, where I would drink until my stomach bled. If I ever showed the slightest hesitation, it meant I didn’t love her anymore. And now, the woman I had so carefully nurtured had thrown herself in front of a falling billboard for Liam. It left a disgusting taste in my mouth, like I’d swallowed a fly. Just as I was about to dial for an ambulance, my phone rang. It was Stella. I assumed she was calling about the vice president job and declined the call. She called again. I answered, annoyed. “What?” “Alex, something’s happened to your mom. Get to the hospital, now!” Stella’s voice was dead serious on the other end. Her tone transported me back in time, to the day she had looked at me with cold eyes and said, “Alex, I see breaking one of your legs wasn’t enough. I should have sewn your mouth shut. Don’t ever come looking for me again, and don’t you dare say you love me.” A jolt went through me. Amelia, thinking my pale face was due to worry for her, whispered, “Playing hard to get…” But I ripped my jacket from her grasp and strode into the street to hail a cab, tossing her aside like a piece of luggage. Liam was there. She wouldn’t die. Behind me, Amelia stared at her empty hand, a powerful wave of panic washing over her. She struggled, pinned under the billboard, and shrieked, “Alex! How could you leave me? Come back!” She even pushed Liam’s hand away. … When I reached the hospital, my mom was already in surgery. “Someone cut your mother’s oxygen tube, causing a cerebral hemorrhage. I’m sorry, I got here too late—” Stella said, her face full of guilt. My head was spinning. My knees buckled, and I almost collapsed, but she caught me. Amelia had actually tried to kill my mother. A living, breathing human being. “Alex, she’s going to be okay,” Stella said softly, crouching down to comfort me. Time hadn’t changed her. She still had that same delicate, beautiful face, her thin lips pressed together, her amber eyes fixed on me. My senses suddenly returned. I shoved her away and stood up straight. Her fingers curled slightly. “I know you hate me. About what happened back then… I had my reasons…” My head was pounding. “Miss Sterling,” I said, my voice strained, “thank you for saving my mom. You’re a busy woman. I won’t keep you. You should go.” Her breath hitched. She saw my rejection and didn’t say another word. Time ticked by. Thankfully, my mom’s surgery was a success. Stella refused to leave the hospital room, insisting that I, as a man, wouldn’t be attentive enough to care for my mom properly. A nurse saw me trying to get her to leave and rushed over to stop me, praising her for being such a filial daughter-in-law and telling me to be nicer to my wife. Stella glanced at me, a flicker of hope in her eyes. I pretended not to see it and went to pay the bills. On my way back, I was so preoccupied with how to get rid of Stella that I wasn’t paying attention and bumped into someone. “Sorry—” I looked up and froze. 4 The person in front of me was Amelia, wrapped in bandages. She had clearly been treated. Her injuries must not have been serious if she was able to stand here, waiting for me to run into her. She was leaning on Liam, a smug look on her face. “Playing hard to get? If you’re going to pretend to be cold, at least see it through. Weren’t you just secretly coming to check on me? Alex, if you promise to do everything I say from now on, I might consider forgiving you. Where else are you going to find a girlfriend as generous as me?” She clutched the corner of her shirt and cleared her throat. “Let me ask you, if your mom and I both fell into a river, who would you save first?” I knew this was her way of offering me an olive branch. If I just said I would save her, everything would go back to the way it was. But my mom had just been pulled back from the brink of death. I was in no mood to play her games. “Amelia, why do you always have to have it out for my mom? Why did you try to kill her?” She stared at me, stunned. “What are you talking about?” A dark glint flashed in Liam’s eyes. He pointed a finger at me. “Alex, what does your mom’s stroke have to do with Amelia? Amelia got hurt, and not only are you not taking care of a her, you’re here interrogating her?” Amelia nodded, huffing coldly. “Exactly. Your mom is so old, but she’s still clinging to her son, even faking being sick to get your attention. She’s clearly not a respectable woman—” SLAP! I couldn’t control the rage that surged through me. I slapped her across the face. “Amelia, don’t you dare talk about my mother like that! The world doesn’t revolve around you. You want me to put you first, but where do I rank in your heart? This slap is a lesson. Do whatever you want to me, but leave my mother alone!” Amelia stared at me, her hand covering her reddening cheek, her voice choked. “You hit me?” Liam frowned, about to speak. Just then, Stella found me and rushed over, whispering, “Your mom’s awake!” My heart leaped. I turned to go to my mom’s room. Liam’s face lit up when he saw Stella. “Stella, how did you know I was here? Did you come looking for me?” Amelia bristled like a threatened porcupine, grabbing Stella’s arm. “Liam and I are childhood sweethearts. Stella, stop chasing after him. Haven’t you ever heard of first come, first served?” When it came to Liam, her emotions were always all over the place. Fine. Let them sort it out. Back in the hospital room, the doctor told me my mom’s condition was stable. We could arrange for a private medical flight to a better hospital tomorrow. And by some stroke of luck, I had won a discount that made the flight affordable. As I was discussing the transfer, Amelia and Liam burst in. Amelia’s face was hard as she slapped a thin invitation against my chest. “Alex, I gave you enough chances, but you refuse to see reason. Tomorrow, Liam and I are getting married. You’ll regret this for the rest of your life!” She turned and left, her posture proud. It seemed she thought her previous tactics weren’t working and was now resorting to marrying Liam to provoke me. Liam clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I haven’t agreed to actually marry her. If you come and crash the wedding tomorrow, I’ll let you have her. What can I say? The heiress of the Sterling family is after me too. You should be glad you don’t have such sweet burdens.” When Stella entered the room, I was staring at the invitation, lost in thought. She saw my expression, turned, and quietly left. She didn’t know the real reason for my deep concentration. If they were getting married tomorrow, they wouldn’t be able to stop me from leaving with my mom. The next day, as Amelia and Liam were about to exchange rings, I was still a no-show. As if by telepathy, neither of them reached for the rings, both frowning as they scanned the crowd. The person they were waiting for hadn’t come. The atmosphere in the venue grew awkward. Suddenly, a gasp went through the guests. They all pulled out their phones, murmuring as they watched the same video. Amelia was confused until she heard a voice from one of the phones, loud enough for everyone to hear: “Alex, for your mother’s sake, can you please not refuse my help? Besides, if you really don’t love me anymore, why were you with Amelia, who looks so much like me, for seven years?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385282”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The night before the university applications were due, the senior class group chat exploded. “Holy shit! Teri, why did you switch your application to the UK? I thought you and Ava were set on Paris!” Teri’s reply was casual, almost lazy. “I switched. So what? She has my login info anyway.” He followed it up with a smirk I could feel through the screen. “She’ll see I changed it, and she’ll follow me. That little shadow can’t live without me.” I stared at my phone, my mind a complete blank. My half-packed suitcase lay open on the floor, the gift I’d painstakingly chosen for him sitting right on top. I left the group chat, tossed the gift into the trash, and never looked at the application portal again. He had no idea. He could throw away our future for Rachel, but I could throw him away to secure my own. All those sleepless nights, all that grinding—it was never just for him. 1 Teri’s words were like shards of glass in my heart. Paris. We’d worked our asses off for twelve years, dreaming of that specific university. It was our sacred goal. And now, he’d changed it. Just like that. Without even bothering to tell me to my face. Someone in the chat asked him, “What if Ava doesn’t see it? The portal closes tomorrow at midnight.” Teri’s reply was laced with mockery. “Since the portal opened, Ava’s been checking it every ten minutes. She’s more obsessed than my own mother. There’s no way she’ll miss it. Ugh, you guys wouldn’t get it.” The chat filled with sycophantic replies, all variations of “Teri, you’re the man!” Then, another voice piped up. “But what if she doesn’t change it? That school in Paris is a way better fit for her program.” Teri paused for a few seconds before answering, his tone turning icy. “Bullshit.” “Ava has major separation anxiety. I was gone for one day last year, and she dropped everything to come find me. This is three years. You think she can handle three years without seeing me?” “To her, I’m more important than any school. She’ll choose me. She always does.” A heavy silence fell over the chat. After a long moment, someone tentatively typed, “Teri, isn’t that a little rough on Ava? We all saw how hard she worked for this.” “You should at least give her a heads-up.” Teri sent a single, dismissive message. “Tsk.” It took him a while to type again. “It’s a pain in the ass. I don’t want to deal with it.” “You guys know how she gets. If she finds out I did it for Rachel, she’ll cry, and it’ll give me a headache.” “It’s just easier this way. Less drama for me.” The chat immediately sprang back to life. “Yeah, that makes sense. Ava’s great, but she’s no Rachel.” “Damn, Teri, you’ve got it made.” … The banter, the casual cruelty of it all, felt like a physical weight crushing me. I wanted to call him, to scream, to demand an explanation. But my fingers wouldn’t move. In the end, I just threw myself into bed, my body numb, and stared at the ceiling as my thoughts began to unravel. How could a person change so completely? When we were drowning in French lessons, crying from exhaustion, neither of us ever considered giving up. Every time we felt like we couldn’t go on, we’d pull up a picture of the Eiffel Tower and crack jokes to keep each other going. The day our acceptance letters arrived, we cried and laughed at the same time, feeling like all our struggles were finally about to pay off. Our perfect ending was right there, within reach. And he just… let go of my hand and ran toward someone else. Honestly, I wouldn’t have even been angry if he’d just told me he wanted to change plans. But why wouldn’t he just tell me? Did he see me as that pathetic? That insignificant? If I was such a nuisance to him, then what were his promises from that night, when he held me under the stars and whispered about marrying me? Was the night just too dark, the lights too dim for him to see who he was talking to? I curled into a ball, pulling the blankets over my head, and let myself break down in the darkness. The truth is, I’m not the one who can’t live without him. I don’t have separation anxiety. He does. Ever since we were kids, if we ended up in different schools or even different classes, he’d get moody and withdrawn for no reason. The only thing that would snap him out of it was seeing me. So, I just made it a habit. I followed my own path, my own ambitions, and I made sure to drag him along with me. Teri wasn’t wrong about one thing: I had always woven him into the fabric of my future. When it didn’t compromise my dreams, I was happy to pay the price for my heart. But that didn’t mean my love had no limits. I closed the application portal I’d accidentally opened and wiped the tears from my face. I didn’t open it again. He made his choice. I was making mine. From now on, we would go our separate ways. I had just splashed my face with cold water when a video call from Teri popped up on my phone. “Little shadow, pick up! I wanna see you!” When I didn’t answer, he tried again. And again. Finally, a text came through. “We’re all at the old spot. Get over here. Take a cab.” But I didn’t want to go. “Tired. Not feeling it.” The reply was instant. “Are you sick? I’m coming over.” “No. Don’t.” I’d just hit send when a notification from Rachel appeared. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I begged Teri to come out with us. I didn’t know you’d be upset. I’ll leave right now.” “As long as you come, it doesn’t matter what happens to me.” My phone suddenly felt like it was radiating a sickly-sweet, poison-laced perfume. Before I could even think of a reply, someone started tagging me furiously in a smaller group chat. “Ava, what the hell is your problem? Can’t stand to see Teri with anyone else? Your jealousy is getting old.” “Just because Rachel’s prettier than you doesn’t mean you get to throw a tantrum. You’re pathetic.” I froze, my first instinct to defend myself. But then a message from Teri himself flashed on my screen. “Ava, I invited Rachel. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Why are you making things hard for her?” “You know what? Don’t bother coming. We’ll have more fun without you anyway.” A second later, they sent a picture of a table laden with food. Someone added a snarky comment. “Food tastes so much better without all the bitterness.” A bunch of psychos. I left the group chat, then deleted and blocked Teri’s number. A clean sweep. He’d always been my pinned contact, no matter how much we fought. Now, he belonged in the block list. When Rachel first transferred to our school, she was my friend. Back then, Teri even warned me about her. He said she seemed shady and that I should keep my distance. I actually tried to get them to like each other. Then came the freshman orientation party. Rachel took off her nerdy, black-framed glasses, and she was wearing this stunning red dress. She took everyone’s breath away. After that night, Teri never told me to stay away from her again. He and Rachel got closer. He introduced her to all his friends, our friends. Before I knew it, my circle had become her circle. Teri was different with Rachel. Special. We had a massive fight about it once. We didn’t speak for three months. I told him, “If you like her, I’ll step aside.” But Teri cried. He swore to me. “You’re the only one who matters to me.” “Rachel has depression, Ava. Her dad left. I just feel sorry for her, I’m trying to help.” And I believed him. But Teri was playing me for a fool. Their “friendship” became their excuse for everything, a flimsy cover for something more. And now, this. He changed his entire future for her. And I was the idiot who got left behind. By the time I snapped out of it, the sky was dark. My mom had come home at some point and was smiling at me. “Fighting with Teri again? You blocked his number, sweetie.” “He wants you to add him back.” I mumbled a noncommittal answer and headed out the door. My academic advisor had called a last-minute meeting to confirm our final applications. When I got there, the seat next to Teri was empty. That was usually my seat. But Rachel was sitting there now. Teri didn’t say anything, just casually took the bag she handed him. His eyes, however, kept flicking in my direction. He was waiting for me to back down. He was in for a surprise. I turned and sat down next to Ethan, the campus heartthrob, far away from them. “Everyone, double-check your applications! The portal closes for good tonight. No regrets, no do-overs!” our advisor boomed from the front of the room. Suddenly, Ethan glanced at my application form. “That’s a coincidence. I’m going to Paris, too.” Before I could reply, a hand tapped my shoulder. “Ava. Don’t you have something to say?” I ignored him, turning back to Ethan. But Teri grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. “Ava, what is your problem?” he hissed. “Throwing a little tantrum is one thing, but blocking me? Seriously?” “I’m warning you. Unblock me right now. If you don’t, you’ll never get the chance to add me back again.” I was forced to stare at him for a few seconds. “Okay. Wasn’t planning on it anyway.” The color drained from Teri’s face. “Fine. Don’t come crying to me later!” I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm again, his eyes suddenly serious. “The deadline is close. Check your application again, carefully. Make sure you didn’t make any mistakes…” He was about to say more, but Rachel appeared at his side, cutting him off. “Teri, I don’t really get this part. Can you help me look it over?” “Sure, let me see.” Teri immediately bent his head to look at Rachel’s form. I let out a bitter laugh and walked away. By the time he looked up to say something else, I was already back in the classroom. “Ava! Remember to check it again! Check it carefully!” he called after me. Right. As if his words were gospel. He probably thought I’d do what he said, see that he’d switched his application, and immediately switch mine to follow him. What a joke. He wouldn’t tell me the truth, so I would just pretend I didn’t know. He thought “dealing with me” was a hassle; well, I thought explaining myself to him was an even bigger one. Thank God I finally saw things clearly for once. Back in the classroom, Ethan noticed my foul mood and insisted on dragging me out to a campus concert to cheer me up. As we were leaving, we ran into a stone-faced Teri. He glared at Ethan, his expression thunderous. I knew what he was thinking. But I didn’t feel like explaining. I treated him like he was thin air. As we rounded a corner in the hallway, I ran into him and his friends again. “Dude, just tell her already,” one of them was saying. “The UK isn’t exactly next door to France. Are you really okay with Ava going all by herself?” Teri snorted. “What do I care what she does?” “Besides,” he added, “she’s definitely already changed it. She’s just throwing a fit to get my attention. She’s so damn clingy. I can’t get rid of her.” I froze, and we came face-to-face. Teri told the others to go on ahead, then backed me into a corner. “Going to a concert with him instead of me? You’re getting bold, little shadow.” “You think this little act is going to get to me?” He grabbed my hand, his voice low and lazy. “Fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you the other day. Can we be done with this now?” “Did you check your application?” he asked. Then, he hesitated. “Did you, uh, check mine for me, too?” I said nothing. The silence stretched, thick and awkward. Just as the tension was about to break, Rachel walked up. “Teri! They’re all picking on me! You have to help me!” she whined. Then, as if just noticing me, her tone shifted to one of surprise. “Oh! Ava, you’re here too! You didn’t see my story and follow us here, did you?” “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she rushed on. “I just love a good crowd, so I asked Teri to come. I’ve been a fan of this band forever.” There it was again. That cloying, manipulative sweetness. I was done playing her games. While Teri was distracted, I slipped past him. I was about to make a run for it when Rachel physically blocked my path. “I’m sorry, Ava. Is my being here making you uncomfortable?” “I’ll leave. I just don’t want you and Teri to fight. He’s been in such a bad mood because of you lately, and it breaks my heart.” “I’d do anything to make him happy.” With that, her eyes welled up, and she made a show of bowing deeply to me. “What are you doing? Rachel, get up!” Teri shoved me aside and wrapped his arms protectively around her. “Ava, can you just stop freaking out every time you see Rachel?” “We’re going to be spending the next three years together. Can’t you be less petty?” I stared at him, the absurdity of it all making me want to laugh. “You think this is how normal friends act?” He flinched, then sneered. “So, the act is finally over?” “Weren’t you the one who said she was pitiful and that we should take care of her? What’s with the jealousy now?” I looked at his face, a face I’d known for over a decade, and felt like I was seeing a stranger. “If you want to take care of her so badly, why don’t you just marry her!” I spun around and walked away, ignoring Teri’s furious roar behind me. “If you walk away now, don’t ever come back!” I didn’t even turn around. When I got home and sat down, I saw Rachel had posted a new story. They were playing Truth or Dare. She’d been dared to kiss someone in the group. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on Teri, but he didn’t move. “Teri… you’re the one I know best here.” “Whoa, Rachel, what are we, chopped liver?” one of his friends joked. “You don’t know us?” As the catcalls and whistles grew louder, Rachel’s face turned beet red. She stammered an explanation, tears welling in her eyes as Teri remained motionless. “If Teri doesn’t want to, I’ll just take the penalty drink.” She closed her eyes and reached for a glass. Suddenly, a hand shot out and stopped her. “You’re allergic to alcohol. Are you trying to kill yourself?” Teri’s voice was low. “Well, what else am I supposed to do? I have to finish the dare.” Looking at Rachel’s tear-streaked face, Teri lifted her chin. “You couldn’t have picked someone else?” “No.” Fighting through her embarrassment, Rachel grabbed the collar of Teri’s shirt, stood on her tiptoes, and tentatively pressed her lips to his. This time, Teri didn’t pull away. He wrapped a hand around her waist and deepened the kiss. “TERI, YOU’RE THE MAN!” The cheering and laughter around them swelled, but my heart felt like it had been dropped into a deep fryer, sizzling with a white-hot pain. Even though I’d told myself I didn’t care anymore, seeing that still hurt. A decade of feelings doesn’t just disappear; ripping it out is always going to be agony. At 11:50 PM, a small pebble hit my bedroom window. It was our signal. For a split second, I wished I had amnesia. I leaned out and saw him standing below, the same Teri who had been wrapped around Rachel just hours before. His voice was slurring, pleading. “Ava… stop being angry, okay? Please… just change the application…” “The UK… it’s great… I’ll… I’ll take you to see Big Ben…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385298”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Caleb Prescott asked me out to spite Claire Kensington, the girl he could never have. I was the charity case he chose as his weapon. I said yes. Later, Claire cornered me, her eyes a mix of pity and contempt. “Some friendly advice? Get a few designer bags out of it while he’s still mad at me. Think of it as compensation.” I didn’t care. Whether he liked me or not was irrelevant. What mattered was that Caleb Prescott was handsome, rich, and now, he was mine. I was the one winning this game. Years later, at my wedding to Caleb, Claire burst in, a desperate vision in a white dress that wasn’t meant for her. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she begged him to leave with her. “I was selfish, I didn’t know how to appreciate you,” she cried. “But it’s not too late.” The man beside me didn’t flinch. His expression was calm as he signaled for security to remove her. Then he turned to me, his voice low and sincere. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I should have handled that loose end. I promise, it will never happen again.” See? Taming a stray isn’t so hard after all. 1 I knew from the very beginning that Caleb Prescott’s confession of love was all part of a game he was playing with Claire Kensington. I was working a late shift at the campus Quick Mart, a temporary gig to make ends meet. The night had settled into a heavy stillness, the kind where the only sounds are the hum of the coolers and the frantic buzz of moths flinging themselves at the streetlights. Their argument shattered the quiet, a sharp, angry blade slicing through the empty store. It was impossible not to notice. My drowsiness vanished. I leaned forward, shamelessly listening. And then I heard my name. A jolt went through me. I looked up. Two figures stood just outside the glass doors, silhouetted against the night. Even in the gloom, they were unmistakable. Caleb Prescott and Claire Kensington. Northwood University’s golden couple, the permanent residents of the campus gossip pages. Caleb’s face was a mask of fury, but his eyes—those handsome, dark eyes—were clouded with a deep, wounded disappointment. “So you really want me to be with someone else?” he demanded, his voice tight. Claire stood with her arms crossed, her delicate features unreadable. “Ava Monroe is the campus queen, top three in her major, she’s gorgeous and sharp. What, are you losing out by being with her?” I stroked my chin. Can’t argue with that. Caleb’s eyes were turning red. “Claire, you know damn well…” he started, his voice trembling. She pressed her hands over her ears, a theatrical gesture of refusal. La la la, I can’t hear you. Even without the rest of the sentence, the meaning was clear. Caleb was in love with her. It made sense. They’d grown up together, one of those picture-perfect childhoods that bleed into an inevitable, complicated adulthood. Defeated, Caleb’s shoulders slumped. “Fine,” he bit out. “You’ll get what you want.” Claire turned and walked away without a backward glance. Caleb stood there for a long moment, a solitary figure drowning in the pale glow of the streetlight. Then he pushed his way into the store, wandering the aisles with no direction. I was grateful for the cheap paper mask I was wearing. It hid my face, saving us both the excruciating awkwardness. He eventually settled on a single can of beer and a few skewers from the sad-looking hot dog roller. He took a seat at the small counter by the window, a lonely silhouette against the dark glass. Pretending to restock a shelf of chips, I watched him. His long lashes trembled, the tip of his nose was pink, and from the side, he looked like he was about to shatter. I’m the one who’s about to be used as a pawn, I thought wryly, so what are you falling apart for? The reality of the situation settled in. I was about to be asked out by Caleb Prescott. My mind, always spinning, went into overdrive. He was dressed in understated luxury from head to toe. Even his casual clothes had a tailored precision that made him stand out. A quiet flex. I’d heard the rumors when I first got to Northwood: the Prescott heir, incredibly wealthy but surprisingly low-key. No flashy cars, no ostentatious parties. Good grades, active in a few campus clubs. A model son. Watching his ramrod-straight back, I noted that even when he was seething with anger, he didn’t throw things or curse. He just sat there, quietly nursing his beer, trying to process it. Good breeding on top of a great fortune. And easy on the eyes. All in all, a solid package. My fingers tapped out a silent calculation on the counter. If he wanted to invite me into his drama, well, either way, I came out ahead. 2 The next time I saw Caleb was a few days later in the campus dining hall. I was working a part-time shift at the build-your-own-bowl noodle bar. The lunch rush had died down, and he strolled in, looking completely out of place. He stood before the vast array of vegetables and proteins, holding his brand-new student ID card like it was a foreign object. Clearly, the silver-spoon set didn’t frequent this establishment. I handed him a bowl and a pair of tongs. “You pick what you want, then they’ll cook it and you pay at the end,” I explained, my voice friendly and helpful. After he fumbled through his selections, he handed the bowl to me with a polite smile. “No spice, please. Thank you.” I beamed back at him, then turned to the cook behind the counter. “Extra spicy,” I whispered. The result was a masterpiece of petty revenge. Caleb, sitting alone, took one bite and his face erupted in a blotchy, red sweat. His eyes watered, he coughed, he looked utterly miserable. He eventually came back to the counter, his pride visibly wounded. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I think there was a mistake with my order. It’s way too spicy, I can’t eat it.” I feigned shock, my face a perfect mask of apology. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! I must have mixed up the orders. Let me get you a new one, on me.” Before he could protest, I swiped my own ID card to pay for a new, spice-free bowl. To complete the performance, I bought him an iced matcha latte from the cafe next door as a peace offering. His embarrassment quickly turned into gratitude. “You really don’t have to do that. I’m sorry to have caused you trouble.” I just smiled and shook my head, insisting it was my mistake and my responsibility. Inside, I was thinking, It’s fine. You’ll pay me back with something much more expensive soon enough. The ice was broken. He was surprised to learn I was an economics major. “Does that mean you’re in Professor Miller’s Linear Algebra class this semester?” he asked. He was a business management major. I put on my most delighted expression. “Wow, what a coincidence. Maybe I could ask you for help if I get stuck on a problem?” A genuine smile finally lit up his face, like the first hint of spring. “Of course. And I have to take Macroeconomics this semester. How about we trade numbers? That way I can ask you for help, to pay you back for lunch.” He was smooth. He didn’t brag about his own skills, and he knew how to show a little vulnerability to close the distance. He knew how to play people. Once we’d added each other, I casually scrolled through his Instagram feed. It was public. The content was wholesome and aspirational: photos with his family, gourmet food, books he was reading, scenic travel shots. Not a single trace of ostentatious wealth, no idiotic captions. It was a perfectly curated image of a grounded, wealthy young man. He was showing me exactly the person he wanted me to see. I glanced up and saw a flicker of frustration cross his face. A small smile touched my lips. My own profile was a blank slate. My username was simply “A,” and my profile picture was a generic photo of a misty forest. There was nothing for him to analyze. If he wanted to know who I was, he would have to put in the work. 3 I have to admit, Caleb’s methods of pursuit were perfectly suited to my temperament. And to his own image as a gentle, refined man. He wasn’t like other rich kids who relied on grand, public gestures—bouquets of roses delivered to my dorm, ostentatious gifts designed to announce their shallow affection to the world. Instead, Caleb engineered reasons to be near me. He’d show up at the dining hall when he knew I was working, we’d arrange to study together at the library, and when my late-night shifts ended, he’d be waiting outside to walk me back to my dorm. He was smart about the gifts. Knowing my financial situation, he started small. A fifty-dollar gift card to a nice cafe, then a few hundred for a new pair of headphones, eventually escalating to a tablet that cost a couple thousand. He never crossed the five-figure threshold, a calculated move to keep me from feeling overwhelmed or like I was from a different universe. He didn’t want to create a rift. Each gift was thoughtful, chosen with care, designed to slowly, methodically recalibrate my sense of what was normal. He was a hunter, hiding silently in the jungle, patiently studying his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But who was holding the gun in the end? That was still up for debate. After a month of this, with me deliberately letting my guard down, we had grown incredibly close. Yet there was still an invisible barrier between us, a line neither of us had crossed. Our classmates watched us with knowing, curious eyes, but I remained unbothered, juggling my studies and my part-time jobs as usual. Caleb, on the other hand, was starting to get antsy. Claire seemed to be intentionally avoiding him, a cold war that, ironically, gave us more time together. I never lost sight of the truth: he was doing all this to make Claire jealous. Even my roommate, Maya, was caught up in the drama. “Ava, when are you two going to make it official?” she asked, her eyes wide with gossip. “I’m ready for my congratulatory dinner.” I pinched her cheek. “Patience, you little glutton. When it happens, I’ll treat you to the best steak and sushi in town.” I glanced at the calendar. The time was right. The next time Caleb saw me, my eyes were red and swollen, my hair was a mess, and I looked like I’d been emotionally destroyed. He rushed to my side, pulling a tissue from his pocket and crouching down beside me. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. I just shook my head, letting the tears fall without a word. He didn’t push, just gently rubbed my back, a comforting, steady presence. When my sobs subsided, I told him the story I had carefully constructed: my application for the university’s student aid grant had been rejected. The spots had gone to a few wealthy students who were close friends with the student council president and secretary. When I tried to complain to the dean’s office, I found out they were all in on it together. They had even threatened to mess with my graduation credits if I made a scene. I offered a bitter, broken smile. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. I can just work more hours to support myself.” Caleb was silent for a long time. He reached out and smoothed my hair back from my face. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “It’s not fine. Let me handle this. Don’t be sad anymore.” I shook my head, playing the part of the frightened victim. “Don’t. I don’t want you to risk your academic record for me.” He took my shoulders in his hands, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were intense. “The Ava I know wouldn’t just give up,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “My parents taught me that when something belongs to you, you fight for it. You use any means necessary to get it back. Even if it means burning everything to the ground. Even if you can’t have it, you make damn sure no one else gets it either. So I’m asking you again. If you had another chance, would you fight or would you give up?” I stared back at him, my expression hardening into one of resolve. “I’d fight,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “And if I couldn’t have it, I’d grind it to dust. I’d burn it to ash. No one else would ever get their hands on it.” A slow smile spread across Caleb’s face. It was a look of pure admiration, the look of a lone wanderer who has finally found another of his kind in the vast, empty wilderness. “Leave it to me,” he said. Then, after a pause, he added quietly, “Ava, I’m one of your weapons too.” 4 “So you got together with Caleb to use him? Not because you actually like him?” Maya shrieked. I calmly applied a sheet mask to my face and glanced over at her. Her jaw was practically on the floor. I reached out and playfully pushed it shut. “What’s the alternative?” I asked. “Find a guy to struggle with?” If Caleb couldn’t even handle something this simple, he would be useless to me, and not worth another minute of my time. Maya nodded slowly, processing it. “I thought he was the perfect boyfriend. Turns out he’s just another asshole, playing with a girl’s feelings.” “We’re using each other,” I corrected her. “It’s a transaction. We both get what we want. Feelings don’t have much utility in my life.” Even if there were no Claire, even if Caleb’s feelings for me were genuine, I would never let myself fall into the trap of love. This seemed to worry Maya. “But if you agree to be with him, it’s going to end the second Claire snaps her fingers. She’s his great unresolved love story. You’ll be the one who loses.” I shrugged. “If you want to get technical about it, I’m his first love. First girlfriend, anyway. According to the law of diminishing returns, that makes me just as significant.” Less than two days later, the dean of the business school called me into his office. The pale, panicked faces of my academic advisor and the student council leaders told me everything I needed to know. The matter had been settled. The only surprising thing was that Caleb wasn’t there. With the financial aid grant secured, the simmering tension between Caleb and me reached its boiling point. It was a perfect evening. The sky was a wash of soft pinks and oranges, the air was warm. Caleb stood under the sycamore tree outside my dorm, holding a bouquet of cappuccino-colored roses, looking like a prince from a storybook. It was dinnertime, and the courtyard was bustling with students. Phones were out, pictures were being taken, and a low murmur of excited chatter surrounded him. Everyone was wondering who the lucky girl was. He had texted me before he came. Seeing that I hadn’t come down yet, he showed no signs of impatience. He just stood there, tall and still as a statue, waiting. Maya rushed over to my desk, practically vibrating with excitement. “He’s downstairs! It’s happening! Go, go!” I remained seated, calmly eating the takeout I’d brought back from the dining hall. She got desperate and tried to snatch my chopsticks. “You glutton, stop eating! Once you’re with Caleb, he’ll be taking you to fancy candlelit dinners.” I tossed my phone to her. “Check the campus confessions page.” Maya picked it up. Caleb had posted a long, anonymous-but-not-really confession, detailing every little moment of our “chance” encounters. It was dripping with sentiment, earnest and moving. At the end, he asked me to be his girlfriend. The comments were exploding with people swooning over how romantic it was. “What kind of person writes a novel-length public confession?” I asked her. Maya thought for a second. “A hopeless romantic? Or someone desperate. I wrote one for my ex when I was trying to get him back.” I gave her a look that said, Exactly. “So what’s the rush?” The ball was in my court. “Have you even read it?” she asked. I shook my head. “Could you read it to me? It’ll be awkward later if I don’t know what it says.” She looked at me, bewildered. “Why?” “It’s too long,” I said, taking a bite of a chicken leg. “I can’t be bothered. Plus, you have a nice voice. It’s good background noise while I eat.” 5 In the end, Maya read me the entire post in exchange for the promise of five lavish meals. By the time she finished, I had finished my dinner. I then took my time, showering and washing my hair. It was my first time being properly asked out. I had to look my best. All told, an hour and a half had passed. Maya peered out the window. “He’s still there,” she reported, a note of awe in her voice. I glanced at my phone. No frantic calls or texts from Caleb. Instead, a single message sent every half hour, like clockwork: [Ava, I’m outside your dorm. I’ll wait for you.] Patience and perseverance. A man like Caleb was destined to succeed at whatever he put his mind to. That was another reason I chose him. As I finally walked towards him, his eyes lit up. A slow smile spread across his face, revealing a small dimple on his left cheek. He looked like a stray puppy, overjoyed to finally be claimed. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said with a small, apologetic smile. I would never tell him why it took me so long. And Caleb would never dare to ask. He was too close to his goal to risk rocking the boat. When it came to the actual confession, he stumbled over his words. “Ava Monroe… I, uh… I like you. A lot.” I took the bouquet from his hands and tilted my head, offering him a radiant smile. “I’ll be in your care, then… boyfriend.” His face instantly flushed a deep crimson, as if the sunset had decided to paint itself across his cheeks. And just like that, Caleb and I were official. I pulled him close, pressed my cheek against his, and snapped a selfie. I posted it immediately to my feed, a declaration. In the photo, Caleb’s fair skin was still flushed, and he looked at the camera with a slightly dazed expression. The likes and congratulatory comments started pouring in immediately. All evening, Caleb’s phone buzzed incessantly. I watched him as he stared at the glowing screen, a flicker of something—disappointment?—in his eyes. I stirred my coffee, my chin propped on my hand, patiently observing him. He was waiting for a message from Claire. A message that would never come. Because I had already checked. On my burner account, I could see Claire’s Instagram story. She was at a club, grinding against some new, handsome prey she’d just captured. 6 I was, of course, curious to see how Claire would react. A week earlier, we’d had our second encounter at a burger joint where I was working. It was the six o’clock dinner rush, and I was juggling taking orders, running the register, and handing out food. Claire, wearing a simple white dress and subtle makeup, stood off to the side, watching me with a cool, detached curiosity. When the line finally died down, she approached the counter to place her order. Then, ignoring a dozen clean, empty tables, she walked to the messiest one in the entire restaurant—a disaster zone of ketchup smears and leftover food—and called me over to clean it. Maya, who was working with me, saw what was happening and bristled. “I’ll get it,” she muttered, grabbing a cloth, ready to fight my battle for me. I stopped her. “She’s here for me. You going won’t solve anything. Go check on the fries.” To her credit, Claire didn’t push it further. I knew her visit was born of curiosity, not malice. She was sizing me up. She probably assumed Caleb would never seriously consider someone like me, a girl from the bottom rung of the social ladder. What a shame. She underestimated the stubborn streak running through Caleb’s core. And she drastically underestimated my own ambition. The look of pure shock and fury on her face when Caleb and I walked into his friend’s party, hand in hand, was a memory I would treasure for a long time. A week into our relationship, it was Caleb’s birthday. On the drive to his family’s villa, he was completely distracted. I tried to make conversation, but he barely heard a word I said. I eventually gave up and sat in silence. It wasn’t until we pulled up to the massive front gates that he seemed to snap out of it, his hand tightening around mine. I teased him gently. “Am I that embarrassing? Should I just call a taxi and go home now?” He blinked, coming back to himself, and pulled me closer, his arm around my shoulders. “Ava, don’t be silly. You look beautiful tonight.” Before we left, he had arranged for a stylist to do my hair and makeup and pick out a dress. He was trying to mold me. “The people you’ll meet tonight are just my closest friends,” he reassured me. “Just stick by my side, and you’ll be fine.” I nodded obediently. The moment we stepped into the grand hall, the boisterous noise died. Every head turned. A hundred pairs of eyes landed on me—probing, judging, gossiping. One gaze, however, was sharper than the rest, a glare meant to pierce right through me. Caleb, to his credit, confidently introduced me to his circle. They all stood up, greeting me with a practiced, superficial warmth. They were polite because Caleb’s family held more power than theirs. All of them, except Claire. Our eyes met across the room. I could see the rage simmering just beneath the surface. To her, Caleb was a toy. A toy she might have left in the attic to gather dust, but one she would never permit anyone else to play with. This was a betrayal. She let out a cold little huff, turned without a word, and swept up the grand staircase. I snuck a glance at Caleb. His face was a perfect, unreadable mask. But I knew. We always want what we can’t have. The moon is beautiful because it hangs untouchable in the sky; you admire it from afar. But there’s always a part of you that wants to pull it down from the heavens and claim it for yourself. It didn’t matter. After tonight, none of it would. The party continued. I slipped away to the restroom, and when I came out, I found Claire leaning against the wall in the hallway, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. The tiny orange ember glowed in the dim light, illuminating her face, which was partially obscured by a haze of smoke. She looked like a femme fatale from an old movie. As I walked past, she called my name. “Ava Monroe.” I stopped. She looked me up and down, a slow, deliberate assessment, before letting out a short, sharp laugh. “You do know this whole thing is just a bet, right? He’s never liked you. He’s with you to piss me off, to get my attention. And look, I don’t even like Caleb like that, but I’m telling you, don’t get too invested.” My hands clenched the fabric of my dress. I let my face fall, my expression a carefully crafted picture of shock and hurt. “That’s not possible. He told me… he told me I was the first person he ever really liked.” Claire took a long drag from her cigarette, then flicked the ash onto the marble floor. “Sweetie, if you want to survive in our world, here’s a free lesson: never believe a word a man says.” She then proceeded to tell me, in excruciating detail, about the bet she and Caleb had made. Seeing my stunned, heartbroken expression, her mood visibly brightened. She looked at me with that same pitying gaze from before. “My advice? Get a few nice bags out of it as compensation before he gets tired of this little game. You don’t want to be the girl crying for breakup money when it’s all over.” I shifted into a righteous fury. “How can you be so cruel? How can you just trample on someone’s feelings like that? You don’t deserve anyone’s affection.” She just shook her head, as if lamenting my stupidity. “Well, I guess you can feel sorry for him on my behalf.” With that, she pressed the glowing tip of her cigarette into the bodice of my dress, right over my heart. It sizzled for a second, leaving an ugly, brown-ringed hole. My heart bled. Not for myself, but for the dress. I could’ve flipped that on Poshmark for a year’s worth of tuition. Now I’d be lucky to get twenty bucks for it. 7 Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow lurking in the darkness down the hall. Caleb. My part in this little drama was over. I stumbled away, playing the part of the broken-hearted girl, leaving the two of them to their confrontation. From what I understood of men like Caleb, their pride was like fine crystal: beautiful, fragile, and easily shattered. He would never tolerate being trampled on like this. After tonight, they would be fractured beyond repair. But it still needed one more push. A more potent dose of poison. I sat on a plush sofa, idly picking at one of the gleaming gold pillars next to me. It looked like it was covered in 24-karat gold leaf. My fingers itched. If I could just peel off a little bit every day, it would add up. I tried scraping it with my nail, but nothing came off. On closer inspection, I saw a thin, hard, transparent protective layer. Probably to keep people like me from getting any ideas, I sighed. My thoughts drifted back to the party. No one was talking to me. They were all taking their cues from Caleb, and he hadn’t officially stamped me with his approval. They all knew this was a performance for Claire’s benefit. Just as I was plotting my next move, an opportunity presented itself. A group of shadows fell over me. I looked up to see a few of Claire’s friends, led by Caleb’s cousin, Bryce Prescott. Bryce was the alpha sycophant in Claire’s orbit. I’d heard he wasn’t born a Prescott, but had changed his name to curry favor with the family, whose business propped up his own. With the Prescott name behind him, he acted with an unearned arrogance. He smiled down at me, a slimy, predatory grin. “Ava, right? We’re playing a game over there, kind of a truth-or-dare spin. We’re short one player. Do me a favor and join us?” I meekly agreed. And, what a surprise, I lost the first round. Amid boisterous laughter, several of them lifted me up and, before I knew what was happening, tossed me into the deep end of the swimming pool. As I hit the cold water, I saw the triumphant look on Bryce’s face. He was getting revenge on Claire’s behalf. I flailed, sputtering, trying to get to the side. But every time I got close, someone, acting on Bryce’s silent command, would push me back under. Again and again. Water flooded my throat, and my cries for help were swallowed by the pool. The other partygoers just stood around the edge, watching as if it were entertainment. Aside from Caleb, Bryce held the most power here. Finally, my strength gave out. I sank towards the bottom, the lights of the party blurring above me. Then, a loud splash. Arms wrapped around me, pulling me towards the surface. I broke through, gasping for air, lungs burning. I opened my eyes. It was Caleb. He held me as hands reached down to pull us both out. I collapsed against his chest, weak and shivering, and shot a look at Claire over his shoulder. Her face was a thundercloud of fury. A tiny, imperceptible smile played on my lips. Caleb’s gaze swept over the guilty parties, cold and murderous. A hush fell over the crowd. Before he could even speak, his friends, eager to please, started kicking the culprits into the pool, one by one. All except Bryce. He tried to play the family card, a pathetic, wheedling tone in his voice. “Caleb, buddy, we were just kidding around!” Caleb didn’t hesitate. A powerful kick sent Bryce stumbling backward into the water. “Nobody pulls them out until I say so,” he commanded, his voice deadly quiet. The others, now soaked and humiliated, didn’t dare try to climb out. Caleb scooped me into his arms and started carrying me back into the house. “Caleb!” Claire’s voice cut through the air, sharp and frayed with disbelief. He paused, turned his head, and looked back at her with eyes like chips of ice. He uttered a single word. “Leave.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384960”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel