Category: English

1 For as long as I can remember, Mom and I played the dying game. The first time I found her lying still and breathless, I panicked and cried. But eventually, I learned it was just her way of teasing, and I stopped being scared. At the cemetery, a solemn silence hung over the freshly dug grave and waiting coffin. Everyone was crying—except me. I stared at the flag-draped casket and thought, She’s really committed this time. Even Dad’s crying for real. As the coffin lowered, choked sobs rose around us. I tugged Dad’s hand. “Is the game over? I need to wait for Mom at home.” He hugged me tightly, tears falling. “Janice, Mom’s not coming back.” I touched my dog tags and shook my head. “She promised she’d always come back.” No one believed me. They said I was sick. Soon after, Dad brought a woman home and said she was my new mother. But I knew Mom was alive—I’d seen her. Since no one believed me, I decided to find her myself. … Rain hammered against the black umbrellas, a dull, relentless drumming. The cemetery was a sea of solemn black. Suppressed sobs drifted from all directions, and every face was etched with grief, every eye red-rimmed. Dad’s shoulders seemed to have stooped, his body trembling as tears dripped from his chin. This round of the game was a big one. Even uncles I rarely saw were here. One of them, a soldier and a friend of my dad’s, knelt down and placed Mom’s dog tags around my neck. “Janice, this is the only thing your mom left behind. You keep it safe.” Shovel after shovel of dirt fell, covering the flag. Everyone was lost in their sorrow. Except for me. I was waiting for Mom to leap out from behind a gravestone, laughing as she swept me into her arms, spinning me around. “Fooled you! My Janice is so brave!” We’d played this game so many times. She’d hidden under the bed, in the closet, once even inside an old trunk in the attic. And every single time, I would find her, and we’d collapse into a heap of laughter. “This round of hide-and-seek,” she’d always say, “Janice wins again!” So, this time would be no different. Even if it felt more formal, with more people playing along. It had to be part of the game, a new rule Mom made up to make it feel more real. After the mourners began to leave, I asked my dad, “Is the game over? I want to go home and wait for Mom.” He pulled me into a hug so tight it hurt. His voice was a raw, broken thing. “Janice, Mom isn’t coming back.” I looked at the headstone, stubbornly refusing. “She’ll be back when the game is over.” “There is no game…” Dad’s arms tightened violently. “Your mother was killed in action! She’s dead! She is never, ever coming back!” I could barely breathe. I thought maybe he’d forgotten the rules, so I pushed at his shoulder to remind him. “But Dad, that was just Mom’s uniform they buried. It wasn’t her.” His crying stopped abruptly, as if his throat had been squeezed shut. His lips trembled, but no words came out. Just then, the soldier who gave me the dog tags pulled him aside. The rain was loud, but I strained my ears and caught his words. “She was too close to the blast. There… there wasn’t enough left to piece together.” “We only found the combat uniform. Barely stitched it back together.” “Sully, this is all we could do. I’m so sorry.” 2 I listened, stunned into silence. I knew what death was. Mom had told me before. “Death is when you become a star in the sky, Janice. You shine so bright, but Mommy can never touch you or hold you again.” So, death meant no more touching, no more hugs. Dad believed Mom was dead, that he could never hold her again. So, when he looked like he could barely stand, he pulled another woman into a tight embrace. He grieved for a month, and then the sorrow on his face began to fade. One day, the woman, Karen, moved into our house with her son, who was two years younger than me. “Janice, say hello to your new mom.” Dad took my hand, trying to lead me to her. I clamped my mouth shut, staring stubbornly at the floor as I shook my head. “I only have one mom. She’s just playing a very long game of hide-and-seek.” Karen looked awkward and quickly tried to smooth things over. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You can just call me Karen.” Dad took me to a psychiatrist, who said I had PTSD. I put the pills in my mouth in front of him, but as soon as he left, I spit them into the toilet. Grown-ups are the ones who need medicine, I thought, watching the water swirl. I’m not sick. You’re all just silly. Mom fooled every one of you. You have no idea how amazing she is. Eventually, Dad found out I wasn’t taking the pills. “Janice! Why aren’t you taking your medicine?!” His voice shook with anger. “Do you want to stay like this forever? Out of your mind?” I just stared at him in silence, my resolve unshaken. The standoff ended with him slamming my door and storming out. His patience wore thin with each failed attempt to “fix” me. His attention shifted more and more to Leo, Karen’s son. He’d listen to Leo talk about school, take him to the office, give him little projects. The succession plan that had once been centered on me quietly found a new target. I didn’t like Leo. He was always sneaking into my room and messing with my things. When I told Dad, he just said, “He’s just a little boy, Janice. You’re the big sister, you need to let him have his way sometimes.” One day, Leo broke the last model airplane Mom and I had built together. I exploded, screaming at him to get out of my house. Dad’s rebuke was harsher than I’d ever heard it. “Janice! How could you speak to your brother like that! Go to your room! No dinner for you tonight!” It was the first time he had ever punished me for someone else’s sake. I grew quieter, more withdrawn. I would spend hours alone in my room, tracing the metal of the dog tags around my neck, staring out the window. The disappointment in Dad’s eyes deepened as he looked at my mediocre report cards. The formal dinners he once took me to became events for Leo. The custom-made suits were now only ordered in his size. One night, Dad came home late. The moment the door opened, I heard his laughter mingling with Karen’s, and Leo’s proud voice. “Dad, everyone at the gala said I have your presence.” Dad ruffled Leo’s hair. “Of course you do. You’re my son. The company will be yours one day. You’re much more capable than your sister.” He said it just as he saw me sitting silently in the living room. A flash of embarrassment crossed his face. “Janice, you’re still up?” I nodded. “Getting some water.” “Dad, since I did so well tonight, can I have a reward?” Leo’s voice was bright. Dad’s attention snapped back to him, his eyes full of adoration. “Anything you want. You name it.” Leo pointed a finger straight at me. “I want that! The tag on her necklace!” 3 Dad’s smile froze on his face. I clutched the dog tags, taking a step back, my eyes wary. “Leo, that’s something very important to your sister,” Dad said, his tone hesitant. “How about I buy you the newest remote-control plane? Or that big Lego set?” “No! I want that one! That tag is cool!” Leo stomped his foot and lunged, trying to snatch it from my neck. “Get away from me!” I shoved him hard. Caught off guard, he stumbled backward and cracked his elbow on the corner of the coffee table. He immediately started wailing. Karen rushed to scoop him up. “Janice, he’s just a child! How could you push him like that?” Dad strode forward, his finger pointed at my face. “Janice! What is wrong with you? Apologize to your brother right now!” I stared back at him, defiant. “He is not to touch Mom’s things!” “Give it to me!” Dad roared, his anger finally boiling over. “Take off the dog tags and give them to your brother!” I stared at him in disbelief, my voice rising to a shriek. “Why should I? This is what Mom left for me! Have you forgotten her already?” “She wasn’t even gone before you had your arms around another woman! And now you want to give the only thing she left me to your precious new son?” “Shut your mouth!” he bellowed. A sharp, ringing slap cracked across my face. My cheek flared, hot and stinging. A flicker of regret crossed Dad’s eyes. He took a step toward me, reaching out. I recoiled, my gaze turning cold and distant, as if I were looking at a stranger. His fingers curled into a fist. “You live in a fantasy, Janice,” he said, his voice hard. “One day, you’re going to regret this.” I ran to my room and slammed the door. The phantom sting of the slap remained on his palm. He paced, uneasy. Karen put a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re worried, you should go check on her.” He shook his head. “It’s time she faced reality. She can’t live in the past, in some made-up world. Leave her be. A few days of this, and she’ll come around and apologize.” The next morning, I didn’t come out for breakfast. “Should I take some food to her room?” Karen asked. “No,” Dad said sternly. “She’s too willful. We can’t coddle her. She needs to learn there are consequences for disrespect.” On the third day, I still hadn’t appeared. Dad assumed I was still sulking and paid it no mind. When my name flashed on his phone during a meeting, he declined the call, deciding it would teach me a lesson. It wasn’t until the fourth day that Karen spoke up, her voice hesitant. “I don’t think there’s been any sound from Janice’s room. And her food is untouched.” Dad finally unlocked the door. The room was empty. “She probably ran off to a friend’s house. Didn’t even bother to tell us! She’s getting more and more out of control!” Dad fumed, calling my friends one by one, but learned nothing. The next moment, the school called. “Is this Janice Sullivan’s father? Janice hasn’t been in class for three days. Is everything alright at home?” The color drained from Dad’s face. Panic seized him. He hung up and immediately dialed my number. The phone rang for a long time before a flippant male voice answered. “Well, well. You finally remember you have a daughter? You’re a busy man, Mr. Sullivan. Couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone.” My father’s blood ran cold. His voice trembled. “Who is this? Where is my daughter?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384610”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was choking on a piece of food when Isabelle was on the dance floor with a male model. My face was turning a deep, desperate shade of crimson as I begged her for help, but she just shot me a look of pure annoyance, as if I was ruining her fun, and dragged the model away. It wasn’t until I was on the verge of collapsing that a waiter saw me and saved my life. But when Isabelle returned, she walked right past me, slapped the waitress across the face, and then pointed a finger at me, her voice dripping with venom. “I leave you alone for one minute, and you’re already hitting on other women!” “I guess you don’t really want to get married after all. Fine, we can postpone it. Again.” Usually, when she threatened me like that, I would have scrambled, desperate to explain myself. But this time, I was just… tired. A profound exhaustion settled deep in my bones. After her words, a dead silence fell over the private room. Isabelle sat down, her brow furrowed, saying nothing. I knew what she was doing. She was waiting for me to bow my head and apologize, just like I had on a thousand other nights. I looked at my reflection in the dark glass of the window—the man staring back was a ghost, his face a bloodless mask. The exhaustion was overwhelming. I didn’t offer an explanation. I didn’t try to win her back. I simply stood up and walked out. Behind me, I heard a mocking voice—the model, Leo. “Ms. Lin, I think Mr. Chen is angry. Aren’t you going to go after him?” Isabelle’s voice was a blade of ice, laced with undisguised contempt. “Him? As if. Give him two days. He’ll come crawling back with an apology.” That was what she truly thought of me. But she was wrong. For the next week, I didn’t contact her once. Just when I thought the relationship was finally over, Isabelle showed up at my apartment one evening, completely unannounced. I was in the middle of a lighthearted chat with a friend on my phone when I heard the sound of a key in the lock. The smile faded from my face. I watched calmly as Isabelle pushed the door open, a sense of distance growing between us. Her eyes scanned my face, and she frowned slightly. “Have you calmed down now?” Those words almost made me laugh. Oh, I had more than calmed down. In the past few days, I had canceled the tuxedo fitting and given notice on our apartment. As soon as my current project was finished, I was leaving this city for good. The room was silent. Isabelle walked toward me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “Have you gained weight?” I paused, the glass of water halfway to my lips. I hadn’t gained or lost a single pound. She thought I looked bigger because, for the past week, she’d been spending all her time with someone skinnier than me. Isabelle let out a small sigh of relief, then placed a gift box in front of me. “Well, you can’t blame me for this one,” she said, her tone teasing. “It’s your own fault for getting fat.” I opened the box. Inside was a slim-fit suit, two sizes too small for me. I said “thank you” and set it aside. My new haircut was a bit short, and I ran a hand over it. Isabelle’s gaze followed my movement, and she froze. “When did you get your hair cut?” I didn’t stop, my voice flat. “A few days ago.” She fell silent. In her version of events, a pathetic man like me would either be crying his eyes out or starving himself. He certainly wouldn’t have the peace of mind to get a haircut. A bitter look crossed her face. She turned and went into the bathroom to wash up, but when she looked up at the mirror, she realized all her things were gone. Her brow furrowed. “Where are my face wash and my toothbrush?” I’d thrown them out days ago. It had never even occurred to me that she would come back. I was so lost in my plans for the future that I didn’t notice her walking up to me until she was right there. Her voice was soft, with a hint of pleading. “Don’t be angry anymore. I was upset, that’s why I said those things. Don’t worry, the wedding is still on.” The wedding that was supposed to happen a year ago had been postponed again and again. She had me wrapped around her little finger, turning me into a laughingstock among my friends and family. Seeing my silence, she assumed—as always—that I had forgiven her without question. She reached out to touch me. But in that instant, the sharp, woody scent of cypress filled my nostrils. It was the same cologne the model, Leo, had been wearing. The image of the two of them, intertwined and whispering, flashed in my mind, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I shoved her away and ran for the bathroom. 2 Isabelle stumbled back, her face turning ashen as she stared at the bathroom door. She let out a cold, sharp laugh, then slammed the front door behind her as she left. Faced with her blatant silent treatment, I felt nothing. No sadness, no anger. I tossed the suit into the trash can and went to bed. The next day, after work, I met up with a friend for dinner. I had just walked into the restaurant when someone, holding a glass of wine, bumped into me hard. The wine splashed all over both of us, leaving dark stains on our clothes. It was Leo. When he saw it was me, he sneered and just stood there, his face a sullen mask. Isabelle, who had been following him, froze for a second, then took off Leo’s jacket and shoved it at me. “You upset him. You can wash this for him.” Leo barely suppressed a grin, murmuring, “Isabelle, I don’t know… Evan’s a grown man.” Isabelle just smiled, taking his hand. “And are your hands suited for doing laundry?” Her words made me look down at my own hands. They were dry and rough, the hands of someone used to manual labor. Because so many of Isabelle’s clothes were delicate and had to be hand-washed, I had done it without complaint for five years. And the result? In her eyes, I had become someone only fit for menial tasks. The memory stung. I shook my head and held the jacket back out to her. “You should take this to a dry cleaner.” Isabelle was stunned. In her memory, I had never once refused a single request she’d made. She had just assumed I would fall in line. My defiance was a slap in the face. Her expression hardened, and she stared at me without a word. The stress and exhaustion of the past few days had weakened my immune system. I coughed twice. Isabelle’s brow knitted in annoyance. “Evan, don’t play the victim with me. You’re perfectly healthy. You’re just lazy!” She refused to take the jacket, instead grabbing Leo’s hand and pulling him towards the exit. “Forget that one. I’ll buy you a new one.” As they walked away, I casually draped the jacket over a chair and turned to find my friend, Alex, looking for me. “Whoa, what happened to you? Your shirt is soaked!” he exclaimed. I didn’t want to ruin his evening. I threw an arm around his shoulder and guided him inside. “It’s nothing, just an accident.” “You should go home and change.” I waved him off. “It’ll dry. We haven’t hung out in forever. Let’s eat first!” After dinner and a long chat with Alex, it was already nine o’clock when I got home. The damp clothes had dried against my skin. I touched my face and realized I felt hot. A thermometer confirmed it: 103 degrees. I took some medicine and fell into a feverish sleep. At one in the morning, Isabelle burst into my apartment and shook me awake violently. I pried my heavy eyelids open to see her furious face looming over me. “Where did you throw Leo’s jacket?” she seethed. “It was a birthday gift from his mother! He’s heartbroken. Find it, now!” The high fever made my brain sluggish. It took me a few seconds to process her words. “Can it wait until morning?” I mumbled. “No! Get up and go now!” My whole body ached as I sat numbly on the edge of the bed, fumbling for my slippers. Isabelle thought I was deliberately stalling and her temper flared. “Evan, I never knew you could be so cruel, deliberately bullying someone younger than you.” The sheer injustice of her words made me tremble with a rage that cut through the feverish haze. I gritted my teeth, pulled on my pajamas and slippers, and followed her back to the restaurant. We waited there until ten the next morning before she finally got the jacket back. She let out a sigh of relief, only then seeming to notice my thin clothes and flushed face. But before she could say anything, I passed out. When I woke up, Isabelle was sitting by my bedside. She immediately stood up, looking tired and a little guilty. “Evan, you fainted from the fever. Are you feeling any better? What would you like to eat?” I just gave her a cold, empty look and said nothing. Knowing she was in the wrong, Isabelle spoke softly. “You have to eat something. I’ll go get you some soup.” She turned and left the room. The sleep hadn’t been long, but it had cleared my head completely. 3 I pulled out my phone and started scrolling. It didn’t take long to find a new post from Leo. “Brothers, it’s true: a good woman will always stand by you. I told my girl the jacket was a birthday gift from my mom, and she was so worried she found it for me first thing in the morning! Even after I told her the truth, she couldn’t bring herself to be mad at me! Plus, she brought me my favorite croissants and pastries.” I glanced at it and scrolled on without a second thought. I opened up my client’s order information. It was in the final payment stage. Once they confirmed receipt, I would get my commission. The door clicked open, and Isabelle walked in with bags of food. Croissants, pastries, savory muffins—nothing I actually liked. I glanced at the bags and didn’t move. Isabelle looked at me, nagging, “You’re just starting to recover. You should eat something.” I was double-checking the client’s information, focusing on a few key numbers, and my brain automatically tuned her out. Isabelle’s hand, which had been about to serve me food, froze. She stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly snatched the phone from my hands. “What are you looking at that’s so—” Her voice died in her throat. Her usually cool expression was replaced with pure shock. “You changed your phone’s password?” For the five years we were together, my password had always been a combination of her birthday digits. But after what happened at the club, I changed it immediately. Isabelle looked at me with a complex expression, turning my phone over and over in her hands. “You changed the wallpaper, too… Evan, you don’t love me anymore.” Her tone was so close to a pout that it almost made me gag. I took a quick sip of water to force the feeling down. Seeing my indifference, Isabelle’s temper began to rise. A thought seemed to strike her, and her voice turned cold and accusatory. “Why did you cancel the tuxedo fitting? Didn’t you like the one we picked?” A strange feeling washed over me. In the two years since we’d been engaged, Isabelle had never shown the slightest interest in the wedding details. Why the sudden concern about my suit? “It was ugly,” I said casually. “I didn’t want it anymore.” “With your pathetic sense of style?” Her arrogance and condescension resurfaced as she looked down on me. “That suit was a custom design from Paris. There’s a limit to how much of a scene you can make, Evan. Don’t push it, or you’ll be the one who ends up embarrassed.” For a moment, I felt a dizzying sense of disbelief. How spineless must I have been in the past for her to be so confident that I would never leave? But she didn’t give me a chance to argue. She stood up and hurried out, her rushed steps almost looking like she was fleeing. The thought was almost funny. My work was wrapping up. Over the next few days, I shipped my belongings home in batches. On my last day, Isabelle called. “Evan, come to the office. I need to talk to you.” Her voice sounded urgent. I had no intention of seeing her again, but after a moment’s thought, I decided to go. I took a cab to her company. It was noon, when everyone should have been leaving for lunch, but the lobby was eerily quiet and empty. Suspicious, I pushed open the main doors. The next second, dozens of party poppers exploded above my head, showering me with confetti. Before I could react, a group of people rushed forward, smearing cake all over my face and hair. I was completely covered, struggling to breathe. Then everything went black as I tripped over something and fell to the ground. I waved my hands frantically, trying to make them stop. But a figure holding an ice bucket ran towards me, laughing as they dumped its contents all over my head. I was a complete, sopping mess. Leo, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit with his hair impeccably styled, laughed out loud. “Happy birthday, Evan!” he cheered, snapping pictures of me with his phone. The other employees seemed to sense the strange atmosphere and fell silent. Isabelle helped me to my feet and handed me a gift box. “Evan, are you happy with your birthday surprise this year? Go on, open your gift.” I stood there, drenched and humiliated, a clown in her circus. And she had the audacity to ask if I was happy. I violently slapped the box out of her hands. 4 I turned and stalked towards the bathroom. Isabelle’s face contorted in anger. “Evan, don’t be so ungrateful!” she yelled at my back. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and tried to clean myself up in a stall. A few moments later, some of her employees came in. “That Leo guy did that on purpose, right?” one of them whispered. “Who smears cake all over someone’s entire head? And suggesting that ice water thing… I can’t believe Ms. Lin actually agreed to it.” “Yeah, and look at him, all dressed up like a prince, while he made Evan look like a beggar.” The voices faded. I took a deep breath. Once I had cleaned up as best I could, I walked out, filled an empty mop bucket with dirty water from the janitor’s closet, and headed back to the lobby. Leo was in the center of the room, putting on a show for everyone. Isabelle was at the piano, smiling as she played his accompaniment. Some of her fangirl employees were even fawning over them as a couple. I walked straight up behind Leo. Before he could react, I dumped the entire bucket of filthy water over his head. In an instant, his proud, preened appearance was transformed into that of a drowned rat. Leo stood there, stunned, before letting out a furious curse, his face twisting into an ugly snarl. Isabelle immediately took off her own blazer and wrapped it around him. “Evan, have you lost your mind?” I cut her off, my voice calm and steady. “We’re done.” She started to say something, but her eyes fell on my neck. Her expression changed. “You’re having an allergic reaction.” Isabelle moved towards me, grabbing my shoulders to get a closer look at the red rash breaking out on my skin. The cake had contained almond flour, which I’m severely allergic to. If I hadn’t washed it off immediately, it could have been much worse. I violently shoved her hands away, stumbling back several steps to put distance between us. The rejection clearly stung her; her face went blank for a second. She looked at me, hurt. In her mind, she had been trying to make peace for days, even planning this party for me. And here I was, publicly humiliating her again and again. But the sight of the rash on my skin seemed to bring her back. She forced a smile and picked up the gift box I had knocked to the floor. She opened it. Inside was a mechanical watch, exactly my style. It was the most generous and thoughtful gift she had given me in all the years we’d been together. But looking at it, I felt nothing. A flash of jealousy crossed Leo’s eyes. He put on a pained, conciliatory expression. “Evan, don’t be mad. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have suggested such a crazy idea.” He looked pathetic, yet he was the one backing down, playing the part of the victim. Isabelle didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were locked on me. My phone buzzed. It was HR, telling me to come sign my final papers. As I turned to leave, Isabelle blocked my path. “We need to talk,” she said stubbornly. “You don’t answer my calls, you don’t reply to my texts. I have no idea what you’re thinking.” I glanced at my watch, unwilling to waste any more time here. “Fine,” I said slowly. “Come to my place tonight.” Isabelle visibly relaxed. She opened her mouth to say something else, but I was already walking away. What I’d said was a lie, just to get her off my back. That night, I was flying to Silver Creek. After finishing up at HR, I went straight home to get my luggage. Isabelle, for once, sent me a text to let me know her plans. I’ll be home in about two hours. What do you want to eat? I’ll pick it up on the way. I looked at the plane ticket in my hand. “Whatever,” I typed back. An hour later, she sent me a picture of the sunset. It was something we used to do when we were first in love, a habit that had slowly faded away. But even seeing it now, I felt no flicker of emotion. Half an hour later, Isabelle called. “Evan, you won’t believe my luck. I’m stuck in traffic. I might be a little late.” At that exact moment, an announcement echoed through the airport terminal, calling for passengers on my flight to begin boarding. There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line, then her voice, sharp with disbelief. “What was that sound? Evan, where are you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384626”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My brother Alex hit a girl with a basketball and made me deliver his apology note. Curiosity got me—I tore it open, and glowing comments flashed before my eyes: 【LMAO, he hit his crush out of everyone? So obvious.】 【These siblings are a mess. One’s assaulting people, the other’s chasing the main guy. Villains much?】 【So annoying. Can’t they just disappear?】 【It’s fine. They’re both pathetic simps. The brother’s a coward with a secret crush. Free entertainment lol.】 Excuse me? I could handle being called a simp. But Alex? Six-two, abs, killer jump shot, warm voice, sunny personality—a simp? A secret admirer? I burst out laughing. That night, I rewrote his note into a full love letter and delivered it myself. 1 I’d been waiting in the hallway for nearly ten minutes when Lena finally came back from the guidance counselor’s office. The hot summer sun caught the ends of her hair. Her school uniform, faded from countless washes, was buttoned neatly to the very top. Her skin was pale, her eyes were rimmed with red, and she had the unmistakable air of an easy target. Which, to be fair, she was. She was clutching an exam paper from the Math Olympiad qualifiers. Every question was covered in perfect checkmarks, yet next to each one, she’d meticulously written out a more elegant solution in red ink. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. Someone’s cold words had clearly gotten to her. I narrowed my eyes and pushed myself off the wall. My friends fell in line behind me, completely blocking her path. “You’re Lena, right?” I asked, crossing my arms and fixing my gaze on her. Heads turned in the hallway. Whispers erupted around us. “What’s going on? How did Lena get on Scarlett’s bad side?” Someone else yawned. “Who knows? She’s been spending all her time with Julian for the math competition. Guess the princess isn’t happy about it.” “Makes sense. Looks like she’s about to get a warning.” The gossip was a low buzz in the air. Lena’s hand tightened on the corner of her uniform. When she looked up, her wide, doe-like eyes were trembling. She was terrified, but she forced her voice to remain steady. “Can I help you?” Just then, the comment feed exploded. 【After chasing the main guy, now she’s bullying the main girl? I’m so mad! Does she really think this will make him like her?】 【Is she starting trouble again? I’m scared. I hope our girl doesn’t get bullied!】 【It’s okay. If she touches a single hair on her head, Julian will be here in a second to put her in her place!】 【But I don’t think the main characters have even fallen for each other yet.】 【It’ll be instinct. They’re soulmates, after all.】 Out of all those comments, one word jumped out at me. Bullying? Did I really look like I was here to bully her? Lena kept her expression neutral, her eyes cautiously fixed on us. Her fingers tightened, feeling every crease in the exam paper in her hand, as if to remind herself—reaching for things that don’t belong to you will only lead to trouble. Just as she was bracing herself for whatever cruel words I was about to say, the sweet scent of flowers filled the air. A love letter appeared right in front of her face. “So, here’s the thing,” I said, my voice breezy. “My brother has a massive crush on you.” “But he’s a coward, so he asked me to give you this.” The pink envelope was perfectly square, stamped with a wax seal and adorned with delicate dried flowers. Lena stared at it, completely stunned. A letter this exquisite seemed to belong to another world, one that had nothing to do with her own simple, threadbare existence. But there, written in elegant script, was her name. She poured every ounce of her energy into winning scholarships just to claw her way out of poverty. A moment like this had never even crossed her mind. She had no idea how to react. A beat later, her heart started hammering against her ribs like a drum, a frantic rhythm that matched the excited murmurs of the students around us. Her eyes were red, the tips of her ears were red, and her cheeks were a deep, burning crimson. She was adorable. The perfect match for a guy as handsome as my brother. I grinned and pressed the envelope into her palm. The letter, warm from the sun, was so hot it made her fingers curl. The chatter around us grew louder. Her blush deepened, spreading all the way to her ears. “Is this… is this from the guy at the basketball court the other day?” she stammered, barely daring to believe it. “Yep. The one who accidentally hit you with the ball.” Suddenly, a vivid slash of red broke through the gray monotony of her memories. The boy in the red jersey. His features were sharp, almost fierce, but the moment he knelt beside her, his apology was shy, his voice gentle as he asked if she was okay. He was nothing like Julian, with his cold, detached aura. This boy smelled of the hot afternoon sun. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on the lean muscles of his arms. He radiated a vibrant, youthful energy that was almost overwhelming. But in that moment, all she could focus on were his shoes. Expensive, limited-edition sneakers that silently screamed of the class divide between them. He was from Julian’s world, and yet… he was different. Even with the game on the line, he’d had a friend take her to the nurse’s office and pressed his own card into her hand to cover any costs. As he turned to run back to the court, she saw the name printed on the back of his jersey. Alex Vance. A name that sounded as bright and full of life as he was. “Remember now? My brother, Alex. He’s a senior in class 3-8,” I said, giving her a little wink. She clutched the letter, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with nerves. “Yes.” “He really, really likes you,” I added. “But he’s a total coward.” The morning sun was bright and warm. Her eyelashes fluttered. She couldn’t help but wonder. A boy so dazzling you could barely look at him directly. Could he really be a coward? 2 The comment feed cursed me out for days after that. 【She just HAS to mess with the main couple’s storyline, doesn’t she? So disgusting!】 【Does she honestly think the main girl would fall for her brother? A little overconfident, much?】 【LMAO, her brother is the definition of a second male lead. Sure, the main guy is cold, but that’s exactly what the main girl is into. She loves the ‘cold on the outside, warm on the inside’ type.】 【Totally. A girl as insecure and sensitive as her needs quiet companionship. Someone with a personality that different would just make her uncomfortable. She only accepted the letter to avoid an awkward scene. There’s no way she actually likes him.】 Was that really true? I walked into the exam hall, supplies in hand, and saw Lena right away. Her face was flushed, and she seemed completely distracted. Her gaze kept drifting to the boy sitting in the row ahead of her and to the left. That was my brother, Alex. My eyes followed hers, and then I froze. My gaze locked onto the chocolate bar sitting, untouched, in Alex’s hand. Wait. He hadn’t given it to her? …Or had she rejected him? 3 I had checked the seating chart for the monthly exams beforehand. As soon as I found out Lena was in our testing room, I told Alex. He just gave a casual “Mm,” but the tips of his ears turned pink. I saw right through him. “You already knew, didn’t you?” “A friend told me.” “They know you have a crush on Lena, too?! No way, since when are you so obvious about it?” Alex shot me a dark look. Right. It was probably because I’d been so loud about delivering the letter. He’d found out that same day from his friends that I’d swapped his apology for a confession. But he hadn’t denied it, saying it would have embarrassed her. I knew the real reason: he was secretly thrilled. So, I’d given him a fancy chocolate bar a friend brought me from Europe and told him to give it to her the next day. For the first time, the usually composed and confident Alex showed a rare flash of boyish uncertainty. “Isn’t it a bit… sudden?” he’d hesitated. “You don’t give a girl gifts when you’re trying to win her over?” I’d asked, baffled. “Flowers, presents, chocolate—that’s how it works. If you’re all talk and no action, that’s not called courting, it’s called harassment.” I was dead serious. And Alex had agreed. I just never thought his very first attempt at giving a girl a gift would end in such a brutal rejection. I couldn’t help but stare at him now. He was resting his head on his hand, his eyes half-closed. His fair skin was tinged with a faint blush. He looked lost in thought, or maybe just zoned out. And the chocolate bar in his hand was mangled beyond recognition. The comment feed was having a field day. 【LOL, I told you she wouldn’t fall for a side character. Look at him, rejected hard!】 【The clown is him! Hahahahaha.】 【They’re just simps for the main characters. Might as well be watching a circus.】 Simps. Hah. I almost felt sorry for us. 4 My face was a mask of stone. As I walked past Julian, I didn’t even slow down. I kept going, right past his desk. The boy, whose expression was usually a mask of cool indifference, actually flinched. That’s right. It wasn’t just Lena and Alex in this exam hall. Julian was here, too. Of course he was. The side characters only exist to decorate the main couple’s love story. My brother had already been humiliated. I couldn’t afford to lose face, too. The seating for the monthly exams wasn’t strictly enforced. I easily convinced the guy in front of me to switch seats, and sat down right next to Lena. She snapped back to reality, a stray strand of hair falling to hide the panic in her eyes. Her elbow knocked the fountain pen on her desk, and it rolled to a stop by my foot. The logo on the cap was faded, but I could make out a single letter: L. The pen itself was so worn that the metal plating had rubbed off in places. I bent down to pick it up for her, but she was faster. She shot out of her seat, snatched the pen, and clutched it tightly in her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered quickly, noticing my intention. For once, I dropped my usual princessy demeanor and gave her a friendly smile. “No problem.” Could a pen like that even write properly? I glanced at it again. When the exam papers were handed out, she took a normal ballpoint from her pencil case and neatly wrote her name. The battered old fountain pen sat quietly on the corner of her desk. It seemed more like a companion than a tool. My mind started wandering. Maybe she just didn’t like chocolate. That’s why she’d turned Alex down. Next time, I’d have him give her school supplies. She couldn’t reject that, right?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384642”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My brother died in a fire saving my three best friends. After that, they started taking care of me, rotating the duty of being my boyfriend. But it didn’t take long for them to grow sick of it. Robby was the first to crack. “I can’t stand her goddamn attitude anymore,” he’d snapped. “Can we just ship her off to a psychiatric hospital?” Sean, ever the diplomat, sighed. “Just hang in there a little longer. Once we graduate, we’ll find some guy to marry her off to, and then we’ll finally be free.” And Ian, my current boyfriend, said coldly, “My time is up. Help me figure out a way to make her break up with me.” So much for childhood friendship. So much for the life debt they owed my brother. In the end, I was nothing but a burden. Fine, I thought. I’ll give you exactly what you want. 1 My birthday party was just like every year before. Ian and the others had planned the whole thing. This time, they promised me a surprise. I was actually looking forward to it. But when the day arrived, the mansion’s grand hall was filled with a raucous, screaming crowd of strangers. I sat on the sofa by the French windows, watching them from a distance, my face a mask of cold disgust. Robby sauntered over, a glass of milk in one hand, the other stuffed casually in his pocket. His hair was slicked back with wax, revealing a sharp, handsome brow and piercing eyes. A few artfully messy strands fell forward, and his smile was anything but innocent. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, his shirt open just enough to reveal the chiseled lines of his chest with every slight movement. He was pure playboy, oozing a casual charm that I’d always despised. It was the kind of sloppiness I couldn’t stand. But we’d broken up a long time ago. It wasn’t my place to control him. And now, I no longer wanted to. I took the warm milk he offered, listening to him drone on about how I shouldn’t be such a recluse, how I needed to make more friends—all the usual bullshit. For the first time, I didn’t argue. I didn’t get angry. A flicker of surprise crossed Robby’s face. He leaned in, his voice hesitant. “…What’s wrong? Who pissed off our little princess this time?” I cradled the glass, my gaze drifting across the room. It landed on our young housekeeper, who was blushing furiously as she spoke to my boyfriend, Ian. Still, I remained calm. I said nothing. “Nothing,” I told Robby, my voice flat. “You’re right.” His expression turned strange. He couldn’t tell if I was being genuine or if this was the dangerous calm before a hurricane. Suddenly, I pointed. “Who’s that?” Robby followed my gaze and immediately spotted the man who stood out from the crowd. He was tall and slender, dressed in casual clothes, yet he carried himself with an effortless grace that spoke of old money and quiet confidence. He didn’t look like one of the university classmates Robby and the others would have invited. “Oh, him?” Robby said. “He’s a new lecturer in our department. Pretty young. I think he’s also the school’s new guidance counselor.” Robby stroked his chin, a sneer playing on his lips. He mentioned that the man’s classes were wildly popular with the female students, and his counseling sessions were always fully booked. He muttered something about not knowing if the guy was there to teach or to flirt. In short, a player. The more he tried to put the man down, the more interested I became. I cut him off. “What’s his name?” Robby froze. He looked from the man back to me, his brow slowly furrowing. He tried for a casual smile, avoiding a direct answer. “Why do you ask?” I ignored him. Just then, the music in the grand hall shifted to a slow, elegant melody, and couples began to drift onto the dance floor. And Ian, my cold, distant boyfriend, who had just caught the clumsy, fake stumble of the young housekeeper, still had his hand firmly on her. He looked down, she looked up, and for a moment, they were a still, intimate portrait in the swirling crowd. The space between them was charged, an almost visible thread of intimacy. Robby and the others knew I couldn’t tolerate that. In the past, if any of them so much as spoke to another girl, I’d become a paranoid, quivering mess of suspicion and rage, my words turning into sharp needles that wounded them as much as they wounded me. It was exhausting for everyone. So, they learned to be careful, to keep their distance from other women. Even a flirt like Robby had toed that line for me. What I didn’t know was that this had become their favorite tool to get rid of me. My mind drifted back. The last time I broke up with Sean. The time before that, with Robby. It was always the same. I would explode in a fit of jealous, possessive rage. And they would deftly sidestep, calling it a “misunderstanding.” They’d even manage to seize the moral high ground, accusing me of not trusting them, of being unreasonable. I would be consumed by guilt, my self-worth crumbling. I’d cry myself to sleep for nights on end. And finally, like tearing a piece of my own heart out, I would be the one to initiate the breakup, setting them free. On the surface, they’d act regretful, disappointed. But behind my back, I can only imagine their sighs of relief. And now, Ian was pulling the same trick. I watched him and our housekeeper, their bodies so close. The taste in my mouth was bitter, but the fire in my chest was gone. I was just a burden to them. If getting rid of me without an ounce of guilt was their collective wish, then I was willing to grant it. I stared at Ian for a long, long time. So long that he finally felt my gaze and was about to turn and meet my eyes. That’s when I stood up and walked in the opposite direction. 2 I knew my reputation at school was terrible. So terrible that it must have taken a monumental effort for popular guys like Robby and the others to convince this many people to come to my birthday party. From the moment they stepped into my home, they all collectively ignored me, treating the event like any other college mixer. Not a single person had wished me a happy birthday. Not one gift had been offered. But I didn’t really care. I walked right up to the handsome new lecturer and held out my hand, my tone more of a command than a request. “Tell me your name. Then, ask me to dance.” The man looked surprised. His eyes widened slightly, and the small, crimson mole near the corner of his eye peeked out from behind the silver frame of his glasses. It gave him an unexpectedly playful look. All around us, conversations faltered as people started to watch. I thought, with a strange sense of detachment, that if he refused, it would be the perfect excuse to have a meltdown and throw every single person out of my house. I never considered the possibility that he would accept. Tonight was Ian’s grand performance, designed to push me over the edge. They had ignored me, isolated me. Why would they arrange for anyone to be kind to me? But I was wrong. This man was the one exception to their cruel script. He suddenly smiled, and his eyes were incredibly gentle. He took my hand, which had been left hanging awkwardly in the air. “My name is Kian Archer.” His voice was warm. “Happy birthday, Nina.” It was like being pricked by a needle. I snatched my hand back. But when I opened my palm, it wasn’t some practical joke. It was a small, exquisitely wrapped gift box. His words, free of any malice, finally registered. Stunned, I looked up at him, my heart suddenly racing, my throat tight. I was utterly lost. Kian didn’t seem bothered by my hostile reaction. He simply extended his hand again, his voice even softer. “If you’d like, may I have this dance?” I was the one who had tried to force him, yet he was acting as if it were his pleasure. His hand was elegant, his gesture perfectly chivalrous. Behind the thin lenses of his glasses, his light-colored eyes were filled with a soft, patient amusement, as if it wouldn’t matter at all if I played another game or rejected him again. I met his gaze for a long moment. Or maybe it was just a second. Finally, I raised my hand. Just as his fingers were about to close around mine, a loud crash echoed from across the room. Someone gasped. I instinctively turned to look. Ian, who had somehow ended up standing very close to me, was once again holding the housekeeper by the waist to steady her from yet another “fall.” After seeing her act this out multiple times, I finally dredged up her name. Rosie. Her mother was my live-in housekeeper. She’d been hired to take care of me when my brother was still alive. A few years ago, without my permission, she’d brought her daughter to live with us. When I found out, she begged me to let Rosie stay and help out. For her mother’s sake, I’d agreed. Until tonight, Rosie had always kept her head down. I’d barely even noticed her. But this relentless campaign for attention was making her impossible to ignore. “I’m so sorry! Everyone, I’m so sorry! I’ll clean this up right away…” Rosie’s face was crimson with shame as she bowed apologetically. She then knelt down and began to pick up the shards of broken glass. Ian quickly grabbed her hand. “Don’t use your hands,” he said softly. “You’ll cut yourself.” Rosie looked up at him, her eyes shining, and nodded obediently. I watched the scene unfold, my face impassive. And then I noticed something. My eyes narrowed, fixing on Rosie. “Why are you wearing my dress?” 3 Dozens of pairs of eyes instantly fell on Rosie’s attire. She was wearing a stunning, strapless gown that clung to her curves. No one would have ever guessed she was just the help. I’d hardly ever worn the dress, which is why I hadn’t recognized it at first glance. But now, looking closer, a memory slammed into me. My brother had bought it for me. My gaze sharpened, threatening to bore a hole right through her. Rosie’s face went pale, but her eyes immediately filled with tears. She clutched the fabric, her voice a small, innocent whisper. “I thought… I thought you weren’t going to wear this one either.” She sniffled. “It looked brand new, and I couldn’t bear to see it thrown away, so I…” I had no patience for her lies. It was true that I had a lot of clothes and that I regularly had my housekeeper clear out the ones I no longer wore. But every single item my brother had ever given me was kept in a separate wardrobe at the very back of my closet. I had made it explicitly clear to her mother that those were never to be touched. This wasn’t discarded. It was stolen. I fought back the furious rage boiling in my chest. “Take it off,” I said, my voice dangerously low. Rosie froze. The tears in her eyes welled up and spilled over, a single, perfect drop of humiliation. I took a deep breath, my fists clenched so tight my body trembled. Ignoring the dead silence that had fallen over the room, I repeated, my voice now a raw shout, “I said take it off! Didn’t you hear me?!” Rosie covered her face and began to sob, as if she had suffered the world’s greatest injustice. Ian finally stepped in. He moved to stand in front of her, shielding her from my view. He looked at me with open disapproval. “Nina, that’s enough.” My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a sharp, painful throb that sent waves of dizziness through my head. The resentment and hurt I had suppressed all night finally erupted. I lunged, grabbing a handful of broken glass from the floor and hurling it at Ian. Robby moved to intercept me, but I swung my arm back and slapped him hard across the face. The room filled with gasps and whispers. The prying, judgmental eyes hidden in the shadows only fueled my fury. “Get out! All of you, get out!” I screamed. “Get out of my house!” I was beyond reason. I started grabbing anything I could reach, throwing and smashing things indiscriminately. The guests, terrified, scrambled for the exits. Soon, only Robby, Ian, and Sean were left. Ian had angry red scratches on his face and neck from the glass. He was seething, watching me with cold fury. Robby touched the red mark on his cheek, his own expression dark. Sean, who was usually the calmest and best at handling me, wasn’t there. So Robby had to be the one to step in, swallowing his anger. “Nina, calm down. Just calm down…” His words were meaningless. My eyes were locked on Rosie, who was hiding behind Ian, a triumphant smirk on her face. A fresh wave of rage washed over me, and I lunged at her, intent on tearing that dress off her body. But Ian—my boyfriend—held her protectively. He grabbed my wrists, his voice frigid. “Haven’t you had enough? No one can put up with you when you’re like this!” My head was spinning. Before the pain of his words could even register, Robby grabbed me from behind, his arms locking around my waist. He spoke over my shoulder, his voice laced with impatience. “It’s just a dress. Can’t you be generous for once? I’ll buy you a new one, okay? Is that enough?” My eyes were raw and bloodshot. My throat felt like it was clogged with sand. But I refused to cry. I would not show weakness in front of these people, my tormentors. That was the last gift my brother ever gave me. I couldn’t be generous. I would rather burn it to ashes than let her have it. I struggled violently in Robby’s arms. Suddenly, I ducked my head and bit down hard on his wrist. He swore in pain. Enraged, I twisted around and clawed at him, my nails accidentally scratching the corner of his eye. That was the last straw. Robby’s anger exploded. In a purely reflexive act of rage, he swung his hand and slapped me across the face. The force of the blow sent me staggering. I lost my footing and collapsed to the floor. A roar of static filled my ears. And then, the world went silent. 4 I raised a hand, gingerly touching my swollen, throbbing cheek. Then I just sat there on the floor, dazed. I glanced down and saw the deep, red lines crisscrossing my palm where I had grabbed the broken glass. It was only then that I felt the sting. The pain, physical and emotional, finally washed over me. Above me, I heard a sharp, panicked intake of breath. Robby stepped forward, reaching down to help me up. But before his fingers could touch me, I flinched away. I scrambled to my feet on my own. Head down, I started toward my room. Ian suddenly blocked my path. He looked at me, his expression a complicated mess of emotions, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. My brain felt slow, sluggish. It took me a moment to process what he wanted. Then it clicked. I looked him in the eye and said, with perfect clarity, “Let’s break up. I’m ending it. It’s not your fault.” I added, “I hope you and your new girlfriend will be very happy together.” Ian stared at me, completely stunned. There was no relief on his face, only shock. I didn’t understand what I’d said wrong. I had given him exactly what he wanted, so why did he look so unhappy? It was too much to think about. I sidestepped him and fled up the stairs to my room. I locked the door but didn’t turn on the lights. Moving by muscle memory, I went to my bedside table and picked up the photo frame that always sat there. The thorns that surrounded my heart retracted. The storm of rage inside me finally subsided. I sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, holding the frame. By the faint moonlight filtering through the window, I tried to make out the picture inside. But I had forgotten about the cuts on my hand. A drop of blood fell onto the glass. I frantically tried to wipe it away, but it only smeared, blurring the faces into a crimson haze. I stared at it, a wave of despair washing over me. It’s been five years. My parents died when I was young, leaving me with only my older brother. But five years ago, he left me too. He had promised. He promised he would not only watch me grow up, but he would take care of me when I was old. We were going to be family forever, the best in the entire world. He broke his promise. I hugged the frame to my chest and curled into a ball on the cold floor. “You’re not here,” I whispered into the darkness. “And now they’re all bullying me…” The exhaustion was absolute. I closed my eyes, seeking escape. I expected another sleepless night, but this time, sleep came quickly. I had a dream. It wasn’t of my brother. It was of Sean. Flames licked the sky, thick black smoke churning in the air. In the distance, an explosion roared. The heat was suffocating, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. The acrid smell of smoke filled my nose and mouth. I stared at the world twisting and melting in the inferno, unable to tell if it was real or a nightmare. But it was just as I had imagined it a thousand times before. I was curled in a corner, with no desire to escape. The temperature climbed higher and higher. My skin felt dry and hot, as if it were about to cook. In the midst of the unbearable agony, a single, lucid thought cut through the haze. So this is how much it hurt. This is what my brother felt when he died. “…Nina?! NINA!!!” The bedroom door was kicked open with a violent crash, and a desperate, frantic shout ripped through the haze. Sean rushed in, smothering the flames that had begun to catch on my clothes with a damp blanket. He swept me up into his arms and carried me out of the inferno. But when we reached the safety of a tree outside, his arms went limp. He let me drop to the ground. I let out a muffled groan of pain. Sean was gasping for breath, soaked through with what was either sweat or water. His eyes were bloodshot as he knelt down and screamed at me, his voice raw with rage. “Why didn’t you run? Didn’t you see the fire? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” I slowly pushed myself up, leaning against the tree trunk. My gaze drifted past him to the firefighters battling the blaze, my mind a million miles away. His words didn’t register. Sean’s face, normally so gentle and composed, was twisted into a terrifying mask of grief and hatred. There were tears in his eyes. His voice dropped to a choked whisper. “Sometimes, Nina… I really wish I could just strangle you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384658”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I drove five hours with our daughter to surprise him. But the moment he saw us, there was no joy in his eyes. Only shock. He was cheating on me. I asked him later: “In that moment, were you worried about me after that long drive, or were you terrified your new girlfriend would see me and our daughter?” 1. Ross was having an affair. The second he saw our daughter Angela and me standing there, his expression wasn’t one of happy surprise, but of pure, unadulterated shock. In that instant, I knew. His colleagues shuffled past, their faces tight with embarrassment. They wanted to say hello but were terrified of giving something away, so they just offered strained smiles and hurried off. Ross finally snapped out of his trance. He stepped forward, took Angela from my arms, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, forcing a tone of delight. “Stella! What are you guys doing here?” I didn’t answer, just let him guide me numbly toward his car. Angela was ecstatic to see her dad. She clung to his neck, pressing her cheek against his, chattering away about all the latest news from her preschool. Watching their two faces, practically mirror images of each other, I felt a sharp, twisting pain in my chest. To keep Angela from noticing anything was wrong, I had to turn away and pretend to be absorbed in the scenery outside the window. Father and daughter chatted happily the whole way. I remained silent. When Ross asked where I wanted to go for dinner, I didn’t reply. 2. I managed to hold it together until we got to Ross’s apartment. I set Angela up in front of the TV, then followed Ross into the bedroom. “Give me your phone.” “What’s wrong?” He smiled and reached out to hug me, but I pushed him away. I held his gaze until he finally gave in and handed it over. The password hadn’t changed. It was still our wedding anniversary. How ironic. I unlocked it, opened his messages, and let my intuition guide me. My eyes landed on a contact named “Amber.” She was a colleague of his. Their last exchange was from forty minutes ago. Amber: “I’m working late tonight. When you come pick me up, can you grab some takeout? I’m craving those dumplings from that place on South Street~” Ross’s reply: “You and your cravings~” I scrolled up. They texted every single day. On all those days he’d told me he was too busy to even eat, he had been sharing every little detail of his life with Amber. And they were colleagues. They worked in the same building. 3. Ross and I had been together for almost a decade—three and a half years dating, six years married. We had a beautiful, bright five-year-old daughter. Two years ago, he’d taken a promotion that required him to relocate. He promised that as soon as he was settled, he’d move Angela and me over to join him. I waited patiently, never complaining, no matter how exhausting it was to raise our child alone. But the chat logs told a different story. The night Angela and I were both sick with a fever, he’d claimed he was swamped with work. In reality, he was celebrating Amber’s birthday. The time I got into a car accident and broke my leg, and he said he couldn’t get away from the office for Angela’s parent-teacher conference, he was actually on a weekend trip with Amber. And on Valentine’s Day, he sent me a simple “Love you” text. To Amber, he sent a screenshot of a reservation for a romantic getaway, captioned, “Forever and always.” Forever and always with her? Then what was I? Before seeing those messages, I had never once suspected Ross would cheat. I believed his ambition was for our family, that his loyalty to our marriage was absolute. But the old saying was true. No woman ever makes it out of her husband’s phone alive. Every message between him and Amber was a knife, twisting deeper into my heart. The pain was a tidal wave, so powerful it threatened to drown me. I felt the air leave my lungs, my vision tunneling as the world went dark at the edges. Ross steadied me as I swayed, his voice thick with guilt. “Stella, I’m so sorry. But I swear, nothing physical ever happened between us.” “And by ‘physical,’ you mean… sex?” “We didn’t.” “So, in your mind, you’ve done nothing wrong?” 4. His answer didn’t matter anymore. I handed his phone back, walked out of the bedroom, and said to our daughter, “Angela, sweetie, we have to go home now.” Angela looked up, confused. “Mommy, why are we leaving so soon? You said we were staying with Daddy all weekend.” “Mommy has something urgent to take care of back home. We’ll come visit Daddy another time.” As I carried her out the door, she was still bewildered, but she could see the look on my face and knew not to ask any more questions. Ross ran after us, grabbing my arm. “You just got here. At least stay for the weekend.” “No.” He and Amber had plans to go camping this weekend. I wouldn’t want to get in their way. “Come home on Monday,” I said, my voice flat. “We have things to take care of.” I didn’t say the word “divorce” in front of Angela, but Ross understood. He tightened his grip. “You just drove five hours to get here. You can’t drive another five hours back. It’s too much for you.” Did he really care about that? In that first, shocking moment when he saw us, was he worried about my long drive, or was he terrified Amber would see us? As we stood there in a silent standoff, I heard the click of the apartment door opening. It was Amber. She had used her fingerprint to unlock the door. “Ross, I…” She trailed off when she saw me. 5. For a few seconds, my mind went completely blank. Then I remembered what Ross had just said. Nothing physical ever happened. A regular colleague has her fingerprint programmed into your door lock? As I shot Ross a look of pure scorn, an even bigger blow landed. Angela recognized her. “Hi, Amber!” our daughter chirped. Amber’s face flushed with awkwardness, but her eyes held a spark of defiance. She had told Ross she was working late, yet here she was. It was obvious she had come here for me. “You didn’t answer your phone,” she said to Ross, her voice trembling slightly. “I was worried something might have happened, so…” Ross didn’t offer an explanation. “You should go,” he said curtly. Amber hesitated, then said something truly astounding. “Well, since I’m already here, can’t I join you all for dinner? I’m sure your wife and Angela wouldn’t mind, right?” Ross’s face darkened, his eyes flashing with anger. I had no energy to watch their little performance. I pried his hand off my arm and walked out. 6. In the elevator, Angela wrapped her arms around my neck and asked quietly, “Mommy, do you not like Amber?” I swallowed the grief and pain rising in my throat and asked in the most normal voice I could manage, “Why, sweetie? Do you know her well?” Angela nodded. “One time Daddy was busy with work, so he asked Amber to watch me. She made me a sandwich.” “When was this?” “During my last school break.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” Angela thought for a moment. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I forgot…” But I knew it wasn’t that she forgot. Ross must have told her not to mention Amber to me. Before today, I had never thought to ask Angela if there were any other women around her father. I never imagined he would cheat, and I didn’t want to poison my daughter’s mind. Something I could have discovered with a single question, and instead, I’d been wearing this crown of thorns for who knows how long. I felt like a joke. 7. As I started the car, I noticed my hands were shaking. My vision was blurred with tears. Angela must have been missing her dad already. From her car seat in the back, she whispered, “Mommy, do we really have to go now? I miss Daddy…” I couldn’t speak. There was a lump in my throat so large it felt like it was choking me. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, a sob would be the only thing to come out. Just then, Ross appeared in front of the car, standing there, blocking my path. He mouthed the words, “Get out.” Angela’s little voice piped up again. “Mommy, Daddy’s here! Can we stay?” He knew she didn’t understand. He was using her, deliberately. If I insisted on leaving now, in Angela’s eyes, I would be the one throwing a tantrum. He was the one who had an affair, yet he was painting me as the villain. I lowered my head and shakily typed two words into my phone and sent them to him: “Move.” 8. He didn’t move. We were locked in a stalemate for several minutes until I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that Angela was silently wiping tears from her eyes. She missed her dad. She didn’t want to go. My heart broke all over again. Angela hadn’t spent much time with Ross since she was a baby. The only reason she adored him so much, beyond their blood tie, was because I constantly told her how wonderful her father was. But was he really so wonderful? While his wife was on crutches with a broken leg, he was off on vacation with another woman. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I collapsed onto the steering wheel, my body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. Seeing me break down, Ross immediately came over and opened the driver’s side door. “You’re in no condition to drive. Come back inside with me.” I refused. I would rather die than set foot in that apartment again. Amber’s presence was probably all over it. The two of them cuddling on the sofa, laughing together in the kitchen, kissing in the bedroom… Vile images flooded my mind, weaving a net so tight around me I could barely breathe. 9. In the end, we compromised. I didn’t go home, and he didn’t force me back to his place. We got a family suite at a hotel. I would sleep with Angela, and he would take the other bed. After Angela fell asleep, Ross tried to talk to me, but I shut him down. I didn’t want to hear any more of his lies. I just wanted the night to be over so I could go home. I was in an unfamiliar city. If something happened, I had no one to call for help. But I never expected that when I woke up the next morning, both his parents and my parents would be there. They had listened to his one-sided story and had come to a conclusion. They believed he had simply shown poor judgment and hadn’t really cheated. They urged me to think of Angela and not to file for divorce. I wasn’t surprised that his parents took his side. What truly broke my heart was that my own parents did too. 10. They didn’t understand what I was going through. Instead, they accused me of being dramatic. My mother pulled me aside, her voice low but dripping with disapproval. “Ross told us everything. Yes, he crossed a line, but it’s not worth throwing away your marriage over. He’s already promised us he’ll never see that woman again.” “It’s not about whether he sees her again! His heart isn’t with me anymore.” Seeing I wouldn’t back down, my mother glared at me. “It’s a wife’s job to hold onto her husband’s heart. If you can’t, then you have to learn to look the other way.” I couldn’t believe those words were coming from my own mother, from another woman. She knew Angela was my weak spot, and she twisted the knife without hesitation. “If you divorce him, do you really think you can win custody? You know what they say, once a stepmother moves in, the father’s attention follows. Can you really trust him to put Angela first?” “And even if you did get custody, how would you work and raise a child by yourself? You’d need our help, wouldn’t you? Your father and I are getting old. Don’t put us through that.” Her words backed me into a corner. Ross and his parents also made it clear, both subtly and overtly, that they would never give up custody of Angela. Was I supposed to stay trapped in this dead marriage forever? I refused to accept that. 11. Before I got married, I had a promising career of my own. Ross and I graduated from the same university. We were equals in education and ability. If I hadn’t sacrificed for our family, for our child, I would be just as successful as him, a force to be reckoned with in my field. And now, the very sacrifices I made for our family were being used as leverage against me. Because I had no income, I had no chance of winning custody. And Ross, after everything, thought a simple “I won’t do it again” could erase it all. My parents thought I was overreacting. My daughter knew nothing. I was the only one left to suffer, losing twenty pounds in two weeks from the sheer stress and grief. 12. Just when everyone assumed I had given in, my best friend, Maya, helped me quietly find a lawyer and a private investigator. For six long months, we gathered evidence. Ross had only managed to keep his distance from Amber for the first month. After that, convinced that my financial dependence left me powerless, he grew bold, meeting her in secret under the guise of work commitments. At first, he thought I didn’t know. Later, he assumed I was too scared to speak up. After all, both sets of parents were on his side, and I was just a housewife with no income. How could I possibly challenge him? In those dark days, I was so grateful for Maya. When she found out Ross was cheating, she didn’t tell me to turn a blind eye like everyone else. She didn’t push me to file for divorce immediately. Instead, she helped me strategize, step by step, to figure out the best course of action for me and my future. A rotten marriage needs to be cut away. Even if the sunk costs are immense, you have to let go. My life wasn’t over. I couldn’t spend the rest of it in misery, watching myself wither away. 13. When my lawyer informed me that we had enough evidence to confront Ross, I asked my daughter, “Angela, if Mommy and Daddy were to separate, who would you want to live with?” Angela looked at me quietly for a long moment, then answered with perfect clarity, “With you, Mommy.” “Why is that?” “Because Grandma and Grandpa, and Nana and Papa, they all love Daddy a lot. But you’re all alone. If I stay with you, you won’t be lonely.” I had never expected that answer. The impact of her words was more than I could bear. Tears streamed down my face, completely beyond my control. Angela reached up with her little hand to wipe them away, trying to wrap her small arms around me in a hug. “Mommy, if you’re sad, you have to tell me, okay? I can read you a story.” “I saw you crying the other night when I got up to go to the bathroom.” “Daddy never comes to see us. He’s a mean person!” I thought she was oblivious to it all, but she had seen my pain. She was just too young to know how to comfort me. 14. In the dead of night, long after Angela had fallen asleep, I picked up my phone and called Ross. It rang and rang. Just as I was about to hang up, someone answered. It was Amber’s voice. “Stella? The company had a dinner tonight. We’re still out.” “Put Ross on.” “He’s had a bit too much to drink.” “Unless he’s dead, put him on the phone.” She stammered for a moment before Ross took the phone. “Stella, don’t misunderstand. It was a work dinner, a lot of people were here.” “You don’t need to explain anything to me. I’ve emailed you the divorce papers. As soon as you’ve looked them over, I expect you back here to sign them.” Ross was silent for a moment, then his voice erupted in fury. “Stella, what is this? Another one of your games? You really think I’m afraid to get a divorce? Let’s see how you survive without me. And I’m keeping Angela. You will never see her again!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384674”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my way to a tutoring session, I ran into my brother’s fiancée. She was on the arm of a strange man, her smile as bright as a blooming flower. A wicked little thrill went through me as I snapped a picture and immediately sent it to my brother, Liam. “Congrats. Looks like she’s upgrading.” Five minutes later, a few terse words appeared on my screen. “That’s her brother.” “Dumbass.” 1 Staring at the word ‘dumbass’ on the screen, a familiar ache bloomed in my chest. I should have known better. Liam never spared my feelings, especially not when I made a fool of myself like this. Ever since a high fever I had as a kid, my processing speed has been… slow. The doctors said my intelligence was unaffected, but it was like my brain was running on a delay. A sentence someone else understood in a second, I’d have to turn over and over in my mind. In class, by the time an answer finally surfaced from the depths of my thoughts, the teacher had already moved on. After that, Liam barely spoke to me. He found me “clumsy,” “a step behind,” and his attitude was contagious. Soon, my parents started to manage me less and less. They never took me to family gatherings or social events, as if I were a secret to be kept locked away. I stared at the word on my phone, my eyes slowly turning red. Just then, a gentle hand tapped my shoulder. I whipped around to see Keith standing behind me, holding a freshly bought ice cream cone. His smile was as warm as the afternoon sun. “Luna? What are you doing standing here all by yourself? You look a million miles away.” He pressed the cone into my hand, his voice soft enough to melt the hurt inside me. “Did something happen?” Keith and I grew up together. He was a great student with a kind heart, always surrounded by friends. But with me, he had a special kind of patience. No matter how long it took me to find my words, he would always wait. I think I’ve been in love with him for a very long time. It just took me until last year to finally realize it. That tight, heavy feeling in my chest whenever I saw him talking to someone else? That was love. My fingers crumpled the cone’s paper wrapper as I quietly told him what had happened. As the story tumbled out, so did my tears. “Keith… does my brother really look down on me that much?” Keith reached out and gently wiped a tear from my cheek. “Don’t overthink it,” he soothed. “Liam’s bark is worse than his bite. He doesn’t mean to be cruel.” He paused, then offered a small smile. “Come on, let’s take a walk by the river. The fresh air will do you good.” I nodded, following him. The ice cream was starting to melt, dripping cool against the back of my hand. As we walked, Keith filled the silence with lighthearted stories from his college classes, telling me how he almost flubbed a question from a professor and how the corner store near campus had a new, amazing kind of loaded fries. He was trying so hard to be funny, and he kept slowing his pace to make sure I could keep up. Listening to him, the knot of misery in my stomach began to loosen. I snuck a glance at him. The sun caught the sharp line of his jaw, and when he smiled, his eyes curved into crescents. He was beautiful. I thought to myself that if I could just keep walking with him like this forever, everything might be okay. But then, a familiar, sugary voice called out from behind us. “Keith!” We both turned. Emma was hurrying toward us, her ponytail bouncing with every step. Emma was the girl my parents had taken in a year after my fever. She was smart, charming, and quickly won over my parents and Liam. Even Keith spent a lot of time with her. The fragile bubble of peace around me popped. My mood sank again. Emma wedged herself between us, her arrival announced by a cloud of gardenia perfume that instantly overpowered Keith’s clean, subtle scent of soap. I instinctively shuffled to the side, my fingers twisting the hem of my shirt. Keith’s smile for her was just as gentle. “Emma. I saw Luna was having a rough day, so I asked you to come. You two are the same age, you grew up together. I thought maybe you could cheer her up.” I stared at the ground, digging my nails into the denim of my jeans. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Emma and I were never close. As the sponsored student my parents eventually fostered, her intelligence and beauty made her the “perfect child” they always talked about. They praised her for being sharp and sensible, which only made me, the slow one, seem even more like a burden. When there were snacks, they’d ask what Emma wanted. When they bought new clothes, they’d take Emma to the mall to pick out whatever she liked, never once asking me my favorite color. Even Liam was more patient with her, sometimes spending hours helping her with homework while I sat in the same room, invisible. I knew it was petty to feel this way, but seeing the affection they showered on her compared to the neglect I received felt like a physical weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Emma turned to me, her smile cloyingly sweet. “Luna, what’s wrong? You looked like you were about to cry. Did something bad happen?” I met her wide, innocent eyes, but the words wouldn’t come. I couldn’t tell her I was upset because my own brother had called me a ‘dumbass.’ That would only make her see me as even more pathetic. I stammered for a moment before finally mumbling, “It’s… it’s nothing. I just had a fight with my brother.” Emma waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that’s just Liam,” she said casually. “You know how he is. Don’t take it to heart. He acts tough, but deep down, he really cares about you.” Hearing the familiar way she spoke about him made my stomach clench. I was his real sister, yet he’d never shown me an ounce of kindness. Emma, on the other hand, received his patience so effortlessly. I pressed my lips together and said nothing more. An awkward silence fell over us. Keith, ever the peacemaker, jumped in. “Hey Emma, have you eaten yet? It’s getting late. Why don’t we grab a bite? I know a great BBQ joint just around the corner.” Emma’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I’ve been craving BBQ forever!” I hesitated. I needed to get home and start my homework. As a senior, the workload was already crushing, and it took me twice as long as anyone else to finish. If I stayed out, I’d be up all night. But then I thought about how busy Keith was with college. We barely saw each other anymore. I couldn’t bear to pass up this rare chance to be with him. I swallowed the words I was about to say and quietly followed them to the restaurant. The BBQ joint was a small, bustling place on the side of the street. We found a booth by the window, and Keith took the menu, naturally asking Emma and me what we wanted. The food came quickly, filling the air with the rich, smoky scent of grilling meat. Keith picked up the tongs and started cooking a few slices of pork belly for me, my favorite. Across the table, Emma was a whirlwind of motion, chattering about her life at school—the award her club had just won, a funny story about a classmate. She was a big deal at school, always the center of attention, and her face glowed with pride as she spoke. I just sat there, listening silently, unable to find a single opening to join the conversation. In a burst of excitement, Emma threw her hands up to emphasize a point. Her arm knocked against the water glass beside her. With a sharp crack, the glass toppled, hitting the edge of the hot grill. The metal plate lost its balance and tipped, sending a cascade of sizzling meat and scalding grease straight toward me. A searing pain shot up my arm, sharp and dizzying, like a thousand tiny needles. A scream tore from my throat, and tears instantly flooded my eyes. The hot grease sizzled on my skin, a vicious heat that felt like it was boring straight through to the bone. Keith jumped, the tongs clattering from his hand. He shot up from his seat and raced to the counter, returning a moment later with a cup of ice water. He gently took my wrist, his voice laced with panic as he poured the cold water over the burn. “Luna, are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?” Emma, who had initially flinched back in shock, suddenly let out a small laugh. The sound was sharp, dripping with undisguised mockery. “Wow, Luna,” she said, a smirk playing on her lips. “For someone who’s usually so slow, you dodged that pretty fast. Who knows? Maybe a few more shocks like that will finally fix the ‘side effects’ from your childhood fever.” Side effects. The words struck me like a physical blow. My head snapped up, my eyes wide with disbelief. The burn, the shock—it all fueled a furious red haze. The fact that my fever had left me with a slower processing speed was a secret I never, ever talked about. I barely told anyone. How could she possibly know? Sensing my stare, Emma stuck out her tongue in a parody of innocence. “Oops. Did I say too much?” I clenched my good hand into a fist, my nails digging into my palm. I fought to keep my voice from shaking. “How… how did you know about my fever?” Her eyes flickered toward Keith for a fraction of a second before settling back on me. “Oh, you know,” she said with a lazy drawl. “Last month, when I went with Keith and your brother to that new resort your family opened? They brought it up.” She paused, adding a hollow apology. “Sorry, Luna. I just assumed it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t realize you were so sensitive about it. I won’t mention it again.” My vision swam with angry tears. So that was it. My deepest, most painful secret had been served up as casual conversation fodder between my brother and the boy I loved. Keith saw the look on my face and became flustered. He patted my shoulder, trying to placate me. “Luna, don’t be upset. Liam and I were just talking, it didn’t mean anything. Emma probably didn’t think it was a big deal either. She wasn’t trying to make fun of you. Don’t take it personally.” “Just talking?” I shot back, my voice trembling with rage. “Keith, that’s my life! It’s the one thing I never wanted anyone to know! How could you just… just tell someone like that?” A wave of humiliation and fury washed over me, and the past came rushing back in a vivid, painful flood. I wasn’t always like this. I used to be bright, a good student. My parents used to be proud to show me off. That fever changed everything. I had assumed that no matter how much Liam disliked me, he would never use that against me. After all, what happened that day… it was his fault. The memory of the fever was a nightmare I kept buried deep inside, but now it clawed its way to the surface. It was a Saturday. Liam was going to the river with his friends and didn’t want me tagging along. He pulled a few crumpled bills from his pocket and pressed them into my hand. “Luna, go to the corner store and get me a soda. An ice-cold one. When you get back, I’ll let you play with us.” I was only eight. The promise of being included was all I needed. I clutched the money and ran. But when I returned with the cold bottle, the riverbank was empty. Liam was gone. I searched along the water’s edge until two strange men blocked my path. They said they knew where my brother was. I took a few steps with them before a cold dread washed over me. I turned to run, but they grabbed me. I fought with all my might, twisting and kicking until I lost my footing and tumbled into the river. The July water looked calm, but its chill was shocking, cutting straight to my bones. I swallowed mouthfuls of murky water, flailing desperately until my hands closed around a drifting branch. I managed to pull myself to the bank, shivering and gasping. The men, spooked by my fall, had already vanished. Soaked and freezing, I stumbled home. It was dark by the time I walked through the door. My parents were frantic. As they rushed toward me, demanding to know where I’d been, Liam hid behind them and muttered, “I don’t know. She said she wanted to go play by herself. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen.” I opened my mouth to tell them the truth, but Liam shot me a look so full of venom and warning that the words died in my throat. That night, the fever hit. I burned for two weeks straight. The doctors told my parents to prepare for the worst. I survived, but a part of me didn’t. When the fever finally broke, I was slow. I was different. I was broken. For all these years, I never blamed Liam. He was just a kid, I told myself. He was scared. But now I knew the truth. He didn’t just feel no guilt; he had turned my deepest wound into a punchline for his friends. And Keith… Keith was the person I trusted most in the world. I thought he, of all people, would understand how much that secret hurt me, how much I needed it kept safe. But he had treated it just as carelessly as my brother. I looked at Keith’s desperate face, then at Emma’s smug one. The weight of it all, the years of hurt and betrayal, crashed down on me, and I couldn’t breathe. I yanked my arm from his grasp, scrambled to my feet, and ran. “Luna!” Keith called after me, but I didn’t look back. I just needed to get away from the suffocating air, from the people who broke my heart without a second thought. I leaned against a lamppost on the street corner, the city lights blurring through my tears. My heart felt raw and hollow. I couldn’t go home—not to Liam’s cold glare and my parents’ blatant favoritism. I just wanted to be alone. I wandered aimlessly through the streets. I don’t know how long I walked, but eventually, I came across a small stall where a boy was sketching portraits. He was bent over his easel, his focus absolute. When he saw me approaching, he waved me over with a friendly smile. I was in no mood. I didn’t even look up. “No, thanks,” I mumbled. “I’m not feeling it.” But he was persistent. “That’s the best time to look at something nice,” he said, his voice bright and cheerful. “Here, look what I just finished. Cute, right?” He turned his easel around. On it was a charming drawing of a little bunny clutching a carrot. The lines were soft, the colors warm. It was unexpectedly soothing. The sound of his voice stirred something in my memory. My head snapped up. When I saw his face, my eyes went wide. “It’s you?” I breathed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384691”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Three years after my death, my husband Mitte came to the old estate seeking me for the first time—for his mentor’s daughter. “Get Elara to the hospital. Anna needs her uterus,” he commanded coldly. The butler replied truthfully, “Sir, the lady passed away three years ago. As you instructed us not to bother you with her matters, we arranged her burial ourselves.” Mitte sneered. “Still playing games? She even bribed the Thornes’ butler. I’ll find her myself.” He stormed in with Anna Vance, ransacking the house—but found no trace of me. They left in anger. On the road, Anna whined, “Last time it was just a kidney—why the drama? How can I give you a child without a womb?” “Relax,” Mitte said. “She can’t hide forever.” No sooner had he spoken than their car veered and crashed into a monastery wall. When they woke, they were in the Netherworld. And I was nearby, processing the newly departed. … Perhaps the crash had addled their minds, but neither of them realized they were dead. When Mitte saw me sitting there, perfectly fine, a wave of relief washed over him, quickly followed by a surge of fury. He pointed a finger at me, his voice sharp with accusation. “Elara! Did you bribe the butler and go into hiding? How can you be so petty? It’s just a uterus. It’s not going to kill you.” I ignored him, busy guiding the new arrival in front of me to sign their final confirmation. Infuriated, he strode over and swept the desk clean with one violent motion. “I’m talking to you! Holding a grudge for three years… you’ve really got some nerve.” My work now thoroughly interrupted, I looked up at him calmly, my voice low and steady. “Wasn’t one kidney enough?” It happened on our wedding day. Anna, a guest of honor, never showed up. Mitte, frantic after a dozen unanswered calls, abruptly announced the wedding was postponed and left me standing at the altar without a backward glance. I waited in my heavy wedding gown until darkness fell, only to hear he was at the hospital. Anna was gravely ill and needed a kidney transplant. She produced a tissue-typing report claiming I was the only match. I refused, vehemently. In the end, Mitte had his men drag me to a hospital bed. He held up a marriage certificate, telling me that as my husband, he had already signed the donation consent form on my behalf. “One kidney won’t affect your life,” he had said. “No matter what, you are my wife. I’ll take good care of you from now on.” After the surgery, too weak to even sit up, I accidentally knocked over the soup Anna had supposedly made herself. For that, Mitte had me locked away in the old family estate to “reflect,” before I was even strong enough to get out of bed. If Anna hadn’t needed a womb, I doubt Mitte would have ever remembered I existed. “How could it be enough?” he scoffed now, then paused. “You are still my wife. Besides, Anna and I have already discussed it. If you feel uncomfortable, she’ll leave the country as soon as the baby is born and never come back.” “I won’t see them, either,” he added. “I’ll stay home with you, and we’ll raise our children together.” “Our children?” The idea was so ludicrous I had to laugh. “With my womb inside Anna, where exactly am I supposed to grow these children?” Mitte shot me a disdainful look. “Do you think Anna is as selfish as you? She said she’ll have two. One for us.” I looked over at Anna with a wry smile. She clung to Mitte’s arm, her expression soft and fragile. “Did I make Elara angry? Maybe… maybe we should just forget it.” “Ignore her,” Mitte snapped. “She forced you to leave the country once before and you never said a word of complaint. They say childbirth is like walking through the gates of hell. She gets to be a mother without any of the pain. She should be grateful, not angry.” “I made a sacred vow to your father on his deathbed that I would take care of you for life. Since you’ve decided not to marry and only want a child to keep you company, it’s my duty to make that happen.” Tears of gratitude welled in Anna’s eyes. The two of them were lost in their own world, their gazes locked in a tender, intimate embrace. But I had a job to do. I had no choice but to interrupt. “These are the gates of hell. You two are new arrivals. Please register here.” 2 The tenderness vanished from Mitte’s face, replaced by a simmering rage. “That’s enough, Elara. Anna’s health is fragile. Who are you trying to curse with that kind of morbid talk?” He glanced around, a smirk playing on his lips. “You hired quite a few people, didn’t you? It’s a convincing setup. Now, come with me. The operating room is prepped and ready. Don’t waste the doctors’ time.” He reached for my hand. In that flash of contact, I saw the last few hours of his life. After failing to find me, he had forced the butler to tell him where I was hiding. The old man sighed, his voice weary. “Ma’am is truly gone, sir. I handled her funeral myself, three years ago. If you don’t believe me, you can see for yourself at the monastery outside the city. Her ashes are kept there. She had no family, and without your permission, she couldn’t be interred in the Thorne family crypt. It was the only arrangement I could make.” “Enough of your lies! You tell Elara my mind is made up. If she doesn’t show herself, I’ll deal with an old fool like you, too.” He shoved the butler to the floor and sped towards the city outskirts. At the monastery, they immediately spotted the urn bearing my name. Ignoring the protests of a young monk, Mitte pried it open without hesitation. “It’s just ash from a fire pit,” Anna goaded from his side, fanning the flames of his anger. “To think she’d even deceive the church. Elara is determined to defy us to the very end, isn’t she?” Rage consumed him. Mitte tossed the contents of the urn into a nearby pond. He called his assistant, ordering him to hire every private investigator in the city to find me. “I don’t care if I have to dig up the entire country,” he seethed. “She will give you that womb.” He didn’t notice the triumphant smirk on Anna’s face behind him. Neither of them realized that just a few minutes later, their journey would end in the Netherworld. Seeing his disbelief, I grabbed a passing soul. “How did you die?” “Drowned while swimming in the river.” “Gas leak. Asphyxiated.” “I was too focused on my game… held my pee until my bladder burst. They couldn’t save me,” a young man behind them added with a grimace. “Hahaha!” Amidst the collective sighs of the dead, a jarring laugh rang out. “These actors are quite dedicated,” Anna giggled, nestled in Mitte’s arms. “They even have their lines down.” He looked at me with a cold smile. “And you? How did you die?” How I died. If he had lived just a little longer, he would have found out. Back then, I was thrown into the old estate while my wounds were still bleeding. The only people there were the old butler and the guards stationed to prevent my escape. The room was damp and cold. My surgical wound became infected. When the butler called Mitte, he’d snapped, “As long as Elara’s still breathing, don’t bother me. Let her learn some humility. It’s not like being a pampered wife is some great hardship.” I couldn’t get out, and no doctor could get in. The butler, helpless, could only buy some over-the-counter medicine and tend to my wounds himself. Day after agonizing day, my body wasted away. My organs began to fail. When I finally died, the butler called Mitte one last time. He was in the middle of throwing a lavish birthday party for Anna. “She’s always scheming for attention. Just hearing her name annoys me,” he’d muttered, blocking the estate’s number without a second thought. From that day on, he never heard another word about me. Mitte’s hands clenched into fists. He didn’t want to believe it, but a suffocating tightness gripped his chest. “Mitte, it’s not just me who’s dead. The two of you are dead as well. A car crash.” His pupils contracted. He snapped his head up, his eyes locking with mine. 3 “Mitte, darling, you don’t actually believe her nonsense, do you?” Before Mitte could answer, the Adjudicator floated over, holding a stack of files. Anna shrieked and buried her face in Mitte’s chest. “A ghost!” “What’s with all the screaming? Honestly, some of you newcomers take forever to accept reality,” the Adjudicator grumbled, handing the files to me. “Elara, you’ve accumulated enough merit. You have two choices: a promotion in rank, or reincarnation into a wealthy and powerful family. Of course, you could also give your chance to a newly deceased relative, allowing them to return to life. But it’s your merit to use. You might not get a chance this good again.” Shaken from his shock, Mitte asked the Adjudicator hesitantly, “Are we… really dead?” “Indeed. Though Elara has been here for three years. You two are fresh arrivals. Do you know each other?” “Yes,” Mitte said quickly. “I am her husband.” The Adjudicator eyed the clinging couple with suspicion, and Mitte hastily let go of Anna. “What you said just now… about a relative returning to life. Is that true?” “I don’t lie to the dead. Elara’s ancestors were people of great virtue, and she herself was a victim of malice. The Lord of this realm has granted her this opportunity to earn her way back to the living.” “Elara,” Mitte said, his voice dripping with affection. “What?” I took a wary step back. “You want to go back?” “How could you think so little of me? When have I ever put myself before you?” he explained, a wounded look on his face. “Please, could you give the chance to Anna? Let her go back. Consider it my way of repaying the debt I owe her father.” I refused without a moment’s hesitation. The story of his debt to his mentor was one he had drilled into my ears countless times. He was the illegitimate son of the Thorne family. After his mother was forced to her death, the killer came for him next. It was Anna’s father who saved him. Anna’s father was a widely respected professor. His reputation shielded Mitte from the wrath of the Thorne family’s matriarch, allowing him to grow up and eventually secure his inheritance. So, in his mind, his favoritism was justified. When he gave Anna extravagant gifts that crossed the line, my anger was just jealousy. When he abandoned me on the side of the road in a downpour to take Anna’s dog home, my accusations were just pettiness. When he said Anna’s health was poor, it became my duty to give up a kidney, and then my womb. His so-called debt of gratitude was paid entirely with pieces of me. And now, even in death, he wouldn’t let me be. “You’re as stubborn and ungrateful as ever,” Mitte said, his voice laced with disappointment. “If it weren’t for Anna’s father, I wouldn’t have survived. And without me, where would your precious status as Mrs. Thorne have come from?” Seeing that I was unmoved, he turned to the Adjudicator. “In life, she was a member of the Thorne family. Doesn’t that mean her merit and her opportunity belong to our family as well?” The Adjudicator mulled it over. “That’s not an entirely incorrect way of looking at it.” “Then, as the head of the Thorne family and Elara’s husband, I demand that this chance to return to life be given to Anna Vance.” I watched in shock as he lunged for the Ledger of Merits in my hands. In the struggle, the ledger fell, its pages scattering across the floor. As the Adjudicator helped pick them up, he glanced at a page. “Wait a minute. According to this, Elara was unmarried in her mortal life. She received no formal betrothal, nor was her name ever entered into your family’s official records. What kind of husband are you?” While he spoke, the Adjudicator pulled up Mitte’s mortal file. “The only wife you ever officially registered was named Anna Vance.” Mitte’s hands froze. He shot a furtive, guilty glance in my direction. “It was your fault,” he stammered, trying to explain. “You insisted on posting photos of my proposal on social media. Anna felt insecure. I had to do something to appease her.” 4 It was true. I had been a fool. The day Mitte proposed, I was ecstatic. I thought, He wasn’t lying. He really does love me, and Anna is just like a sister to him. I even chastised myself for my own paranoia. But half an hour later, Anna stormed into our engagement party and smashed a glass against my forehead without a word. On the way to the hospital, Mitte explained that she was just young and impulsive. As her future sister-in-law, I needed to be more tolerant. The doctor warned that I might have a concussion and needed to be monitored through the night. But Mitte left in a hurry in the middle of the night, not even bothering to arrange for a nurse. He returned the next afternoon with a beaming Anna by his side. Seeing the blood seeping through the bandages on my head, she offered only a feather-light “sorry.” And now I knew. Even that hollow apology was bought with a marriage certificate bearing my fiancé’s name and hers. “What about the marriage certificate from the day you forced me to donate my kidney?” I asked. “I… I had no choice. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Though I should have been numb to it by now, a bitter, pained laugh escaped me. In all our years together, all I ever warranted was a “desperate measure.” “Elara, even though I legally married Anna, you were still Mrs. Thorne in name. Everyone knew you as my wife. That’s a fact that can’t be changed. Once we send Anna back, you and I can be together, reunited as husband and wife, even here in the Netherworld.” I shook my head, the taste of ashes in my mouth. “Mitte, I am not your wife, and I don’t love you anymore. My seven years with you on earth… let’s just call it a trial I had to endure. From this moment on, we are strangers.” “Mitte, darling,” Anna whispered, tugging on his sleeve. “Does this mean Elara still hasn’t forgiven me? It’s okay. As long as I have you with me, I don’t care about life or death.” “Look at Anna, and then look at yourself,” Mitte spat at me. “You used to say you loved me. Did you love me, or my status? You know the answer. And what about me? Was the love I gave you worth nothing?” “Whether you see it as compensation or atonement, I don’t care. This chance must go to Anna.” Mitte lunged forward, snatching the Ledger of Merits and thrusting it at Anna. “Go. Quickly.” Anna scurried over to the Redemption Counter. “I want to return to the world of the living.” The attendant checked the amount of merit, then placed the Scale of Sins against her wrist. The moment it made contact, the Scale let out a piercing shriek. “Irredeemable sin. Condemned to the Abyss.” Thinking it was a mistake, the attendant tried again. The result was the same. His expression turned grim. He confiscated the Ledger and ordered the other attendants to restrain Anna. “A severe mismatch. Report this to the higher authorities immediately.” By then, the Adjudicator and I had arrived. “Why are you chaining her?” Mitte demanded, grabbing at the shackles on Anna. “I’m the one who took the ledger. If there’s a problem, deal with me.” “Anna is kind and gentle,” he insisted, glaring at me. “This must be Elara’s doing. You’re selfish and cruel, and now you’re framing Anna. I’m so disappointed in you. We don’t want your charity if you don’t agree, but—” He seemed to have a sudden realization and turned to the Adjudicator with renewed confidence. “While I was alive, I donated a great deal of money to a charity in Anna’s name. She used it all for good deeds. Even if she doesn’t deserve special treatment, it’s impossible for her to have committed any sins.” “The Scale of Sins does not make mistakes,” the Adjudicator stated flatly. “In that case, bring me the Life Record of this Anna Vance.” An attendant soon returned with a thick, heavy book. The Adjudicator’s face grew darker with every page he turned. “So, you’re the one who caused Elara’s death. And not just hers. You killed her child, too.” This time, it wasn’t just Mitte who was stunned. I was, too. “Lies! He’s slandering me! He’s in league with Elara!” Anna shrieked, struggling to reach Mitte. The guards held her fast. “Mitte, darling, you have to believe me!” “When did I have a child?” I asked the Adjudicator, my mind reeling. He laid the Life Record open before me. There, in stark, clear script, it read: “Sin Ninety-Eight: The murder of Elara’s unborn child.” “See? Even she doesn’t know!” Anna pleaded desperately. “I’m being framed! The records can’t be trusted!” Mitte, finally regaining his senses, turned his disbelief on me. “Elara, you were with another man?” “This is too complicated to explain,” the Adjudicator sighed. “Just watch.” With a wave of his hand, a scene materialized in the air.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384707”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My crush of so many years was forced to marry me. Each time we made love, he’d fall silent and retreat to his study, refusing to come back to the bedroom. I didn’t want us to become one of those bitter, estranged couples, trapped in a loveless marriage. So tonight, after he left the bed, I picked up the divorce papers and went to find him. But as I reached for the doorknob, text began to materialize in the air before my eyes. 【LMAO, the ML still thinks he’s just a substitute who got lucky. He’s terrified our girl is going to dump him any second. The poor guy’s a nervous wreck! Hahaha…】 【Don’t you dare divorce him, sweetie! He’s hopelessly in love! He literally can’t live without you!】 【Who would’ve thought this six-foot-three giant is hiding in his study crying his eyes out just because he didn’t get any aftercare? LMAO!】 【If she opens that door right now, she’ll find him clutching a plushie that smells like her, trying to wipe away his tears.】 That last comment made me pause. Skeptical, but intrigued, I twisted the knob and pushed the door open. 1 The study was plunged into darkness. I didn’t hesitate; I flicked on the light. The sight of Ethan made me freeze. The tip of his nose was red, his eyes were glistening, and a single tear clung to his thick lashes. Was this the same composed, rational Ethan I knew? All this time, I thought he was holing up in his study because he was disgusted by being intimate with me. He clearly hadn’t expected me to barge in. Panic flashed across his face before he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism. “Why are you still up?” His tone was sharp, laced with an impatience that suggested my presence was an unwelcome intrusion. If it weren’t for the tear track still glistening on his cheek, I might have actually believed he was angry. 【Don’t get it wrong, sweetie! He’s just worried that staying up late is bad for you.】 【Oh no, here he goes again, overthinking himself into a hole. He probably thinks his performance was so bad it didn’t even tire her out enough to sleep. (¬‿¬)】 The comments started flooding in, getting racier by the second. The explicit words made my face burn. I ignored his question and asked one of my own. “What are you holding?” From the moment I’d walked in, he’d kept his hands behind his back, hiding something. I needed to see if the comments were telling the truth. “It’s… it’s nothing.” His eyelashes fluttered. He couldn’t look me in the eye. I have a bit of a weakness for stuffed animals; my bed is practically overflowing with them. If he’d taken one, I honestly wouldn’t have noticed. He didn’t move, so I took a step forward to see for myself. To my shock, he flinched back, scrambling away from me as if I were a thief. There was no way I could see what he was hiding now. I held out my hand, my gaze locking with his. My voice was calm but firm. “Show me.” Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He ducked his head, refusing to meet my eyes, and hesitantly placed the object in my hand. It was one of my plushies. The comments were right. 2 My eyes went wide. For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. Before I could even process it, a new wave of comments caught my attention. 【This man-child is always crying. Sweetie just has to raise her voice a tiny bit and the waterworks start. So useless!】 【Hey, don’t be so hard on him. How tough can a guy who needs aftercare really be? Hahaha…】 I instinctively glanced back at Ethan. His head was bowed so low his chin was practically touching his chest. In the suffocating silence of the room, a tiny, choked sob was painfully audible. He was trying so hard to stifle his anguish, but his shoulders still trembled uncontrollably. Wait, I was just talking to him normally. I hadn’t even gotten mad about him taking my plushie. But his reaction, the way he was trying to cry without making a sound, made it seem like I’d just broken his heart. The comments said he thought I was yelling at him. Suddenly, I felt like the villain. Flustered, I softened my voice. “Please don’t cry. I wasn’t yelling at you.” At my words, his body went rigid. He spun around and fled into the adjoining bathroom, his voice a choked whisper as he went. “I’m not crying! You’re seeing things!” I stared at the closed door, the information from the comments swirling in my mind. So, Ethan had it all wrong. My ex-boyfriend was the substitute. Ethan was the one I’d wanted all along. 3 Back in college, I had a very brief, very ill-advised relationship. It was only because the guy looked a little like Ethan. It was a stupid, impulsive decision, and I realized quickly that using someone as a stand-in was a horrible thing to do. I broke it off. He moved abroad shortly after, and I pushed the whole ugly affair out of my mind. If it weren’t for the comments, I would have completely forgotten that ex-boyfriend even existed. Click. The bathroom door finally opened. Ethan had been in there for almost ten minutes. Now, aside from slightly reddened eyes and dampness in his bangs, he looked composed again. “Did you need something?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral. His question snapped me back to the reason I’d come to the study in the first place. 【Hahaha, if she says yes, he’s going to start crying all over again.】 【If he cried that hard just from her raising her voice, he’s going to have a full-blown meltdown when he finds out she’s about to ask for a divorce.】 A jolt of guilt went through me. I discreetly tucked the divorce papers behind my back. I had assumed Ethan was miserable because our families had railroaded him into this marriage. But the comments painted a different picture: ever since our wedding, he’d been living in a constant state of fear, terrified that I would abandon him. He wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping. It wasn’t unhappiness making him look so worn down; it was a nervous breakdown. And I’d misunderstood it all as resentment towards me. The guilt intensified. “I can’t sleep when you’re not there,” I said softly. A flicker of pure joy lit up his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile. But just as quickly, some dark thought extinguished the light, and his expression fell. I cut through his spiraling thoughts, emphasizing each word. “Ethan. I can only sleep when you’re beside me.” 4 Perhaps it was the release of a good cry, or perhaps my words finally gave him a sense of security. Whatever the reason, Ethan slept more soundly that night than I’d ever seen him. He was so deeply asleep that he didn’t even stir when I gently traced the lines of his face, lost in thought. The comments said this was the first peaceful night’s sleep he’d had since we got married. Looking at his sleeping form, my heart felt heavy with a mix of emotions. I’d been in love with Ethan since my freshman year of high school. He was a campus legend—handsome, brilliant, a model student who was always kind to stray animals. Plenty of girls had crushes on him. I wasn’t a shy person by nature; in fact, I thrived on the debate team, always ready for an argument. But around him, I became a different person—cautious, tongue-tied, my courage always failing me. I even chose a university up north just to be near him. But even on the same campus, I never dared to make a move, terrified that one wrong word would mean losing the chance to even speak to him at all. Then, a few months ago, a twist of fate. Our mothers met, hit it off instantly, and decided they were destined to be family. They couldn’t be sisters, but they could be in-laws. And so, they set us up. I was shocked that someone like Ethan was still single, being pressured by his family to go on blind dates. When we met for dinner, he didn’t even seem to remember my name. He kept his head down the whole time, barely saying a word. But I knew this might be my only chance. Summoning all my courage, I carried the conversation, desperately searching for topics. Finally, I feigned a casual tone and said, “You know, we seem pretty compatible in a lot of ways. Maybe we should… give it a try?” The moment the words left my mouth, his brow furrowed, his expression turning grave. He looked utterly opposed to the idea. My heart sank. I braced myself for rejection. But then, Ethan looked up, and in a soft voice, he said, “Okay.” After the wedding, though, he was a different person. He was withdrawn and sullen during the day, and at night, he would disappear into his study after we were intimate. It screamed dissatisfaction. You can’t blame me for misinterpreting it. I had to fix this. We needed to have a real conversation, and soon. 5 When I woke up the next morning, Ethan had already made breakfast, finished his own plate, and was at the door putting on his shoes to leave for work. His schedule started earlier than mine. Normally, I would just walk out of the bedroom and sit down at the table, and we would eat in silence. But today, I broke the routine. I walked straight to the entryway. Ethan’s hand froze on the doorknob. He looked up, flustered and confused. “Is the breakfast not to your liking? I can run down and buy something else.” I quickly reached out and took his arm. “No, that’s not it.” 【Is she going to ask for a divorce now?? Please no!】 【Sweetie, you’re making a huge mistake! A guy who’s a king in the boardroom and a chef in the kitchen is a rare find!】 I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling a little shy. “It’s just… usually, before a husband leaves for work, he gives his wife a goodbye kiss.” Hearing this, Ethan became even more flustered than I was. His gaze darted away as he stammered, “Oh. Oh, right. Okay. S-so, I’m just gonna…?” “Mhm.” The word was barely out of my mouth before I felt a slight whoosh of air, followed by a feather-light touch on my forehead. It was over in a second. “I’m heading to work,” he said, his words rushed as he turned back to the door. “Wait.” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. My earlier shyness had vanished, replaced by a playful urge to tease him. I looked him straight in the eye, watching his reaction. “Not so fast. The wife hasn’t given the husband his goodbye kiss yet.” And with that, I stood on my toes and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Ethan’s entire face, neck, and even the tips of his ears flushed a deep crimson. As he finally stumbled out the door, he was so flustered he was practically tripping over his own feet. 【Starting the day with sugar! I’m gonna get a cavity!】 【Our girl knows exactly what she’s doing! YES!】 【LMAO, he’s leaning against the door outside, catching his breath! That’s kinda hot!】 6 Love really does turn you into an idiot. I spent the entire day in a daze, and at least three different colleagues asked me what I was smiling about. I kept seeing the word “aftercare” pop up in the comments. That was the reason he was hiding in his study, crying. I couldn’t let that happen again. A quick search online confirmed it. People who need aftercare often struggle with insecurity. The intimacy can trigger anxiety, making them fear they didn’t perform well enough and leaving them desperate for reassurance. I blushed as I summarized my findings into one simple strategy: praise him. We were intimate almost every night, except when I had my period. So I spent the rest of the day in a state of nervous anticipation, mentally rehearsing a script of compliments. 【And… we’re blacked out again!】 【Why does it always go dark at the good parts?! (sobbing)】 The comments were a chorus of complaints. Thank god they couldn’t see me right now, or I’d die of embarrassment. When we were finished, Ethan buried his face in the crook of my neck, lingering there for a long moment. Tentatively, I ran my fingers through his hair, then gently rubbed his earlobe. “You were… really good tonight.” It was my first time comforting someone like this, and I had no idea what I was doing. My voice was uncertain. But I felt his body tense, his breath catching in his chest. A strange sense of satisfaction washed over me. “I love it when you hold me,” I murmured. “It makes me feel so safe. Can you hold me tighter?” He didn’t answer, but his arms tightened around me. “I want to see you now, okay?” He slowly lifted his head. His eyes were shining, bright and adoring, like a puppy seeing its owner after a long time away. Practice makes perfect. My shyness completely evaporated. I leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, and whispered with a smile, “I love you so much.” His eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly buried his head against me again, too embarrassed to look at me. After a long moment, a muffled voice vibrated against my ear. “Me too.” 7 【What’s going on? Why was it blacked out all night? We didn’t even get the study scene!】 【I know why! It’s because he didn’t go to the study to cry! Our girl must have… (smirks)】 【No wonder he’s acting so weird today. He keeps sneaking glances at her and smiling to himself.】 【A well-cared-for man is a different breed. He’s practically a delicate flower.】 A delicate flower? Looking at him now, it kind of fit. His cheeks were flushed, and he was bustling around the house in a pink apron. It was the weekend, and for the past two days, I had transformed into a praise-spewing machine. “Everything you cook is amazing! A five-star restaurant should be trying to hire you!” “You mop the floor better than a robot! The robots are going to be out of a job at this rate!” “The clothes you wash by hand smell even better than when they come out of the machine…” I was starting to run out of material, but Ethan was just getting more and more energized. He polished a single water glass eight times, then casually placed it in my line of sight, waiting. Just waiting for my praise. I was finally starting to understand why all the teachers and parents adored him. On Monday morning, when I got up, Ethan was already dressed and ready for work, looking at me with an expectant expression. I pretended not to notice. I said my goodbyes and waited for him to leave. Over the weekend, I’d noticed something about Ethan: he was incredibly good at taking care of others, but terrible at expressing his own needs. He bottled everything up. He wanted praise, but he’d wait for me to offer it. If I didn’t, he’d just quietly walk away and be sad by himself. Sure enough, when the goodbye kiss he was hoping for didn’t come, his whole posture slumped. But he still wouldn’t ask for it. “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” I asked, my voice gentle, trying to coax it out of him. He just shook his head, forcing a weak smile. “Goodbye.” I sighed softly. I had no doubt that the second that door closed, tears would start streaming down his face. The image of him trying to wipe his eyes on the way to work made my heart melt. I grabbed his arm just as he was stepping out the door. Just as I’d suspected. He wasn’t even gone yet, and his eyes were already glistening with unshed tears. I looked directly into his watery eyes and asked, “Do you want a kiss? If you don’t say anything, I’ll assume you don’t.” As I made a show of letting go, he quickly grabbed my hand back, his head bobbing in a series of frantic nods. “Yes!” 8 With my deliberate encouragement, Ethan slowly started asking for things he wanted. Our relationship grew closer and closer. Until one afternoon, I was walking across campus with a thick stack of files when I stumbled, sending papers scattering across the pavement. A hand reached down to help me gather them, then took the rest of the stack from my arms. I was about to thank the person when I looked up and saw a familiar face. My whole body went stiff. Standing in front of me was my ex-boyfriend, Trent, who had been abroad for years. “Long time no see,” he said with a smirk. “I heard you got married.” He paused, his eyes raking over me. “I also heard… the guy looks a lot like me.” He had changed. The Trent in front of me was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, every trace of his student days gone. But that innate swagger, that hint of a troublemaker, was still there. He had a fresh buzz cut that was just starting to grow out, and he still wore the same silver stud in his left ear. The suit on that face just looked… wrong. So out of place, I thought, rolling my eyes internally. I’d met Trent at a debate tournament; we were good at arguing, even with each other. Our breakup had been messy. Yes, I had dumped him for no apparent reason after less than two weeks, but he had his faults too. He’d conveniently forgotten to mention that he’d skipped a grade and was a full two years younger than me. I nearly had an aneurysm when I found out. Aside from a five-out-of-ten resemblance in their brow and eyes, he and Ethan were polar opposites. Ethan was the model student every teacher loved; Trent was the headache they all dreaded. What was I even thinking back then? 【Whoa! Nobody told me the second male lead was this hot!】 【Our ML is a feast for the eyes, but the SML isn’t half bad either.】 【Team SML! Pick Trent! Pick Trent!】 The comments flipped their allegiance so fast it gave me whiplash. This morning they were begging me to kiss Ethan more, and now they’d completely jumped ship. I snatched my files back, glaring at Trent. “Who have you been listening to?” He chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking down at me with an I-knew-it expression. “I told you back then, I never go back on my word, especially not for a woman as fickle and self-centered as you—” “Yeah, yeah, I get it, Your Majesty. Stop.” I cut him off, not in the mood for his drama. I plastered on a fake smile, gave him a massive eye-roll, and turned to leave. For some reason, despite my attitude, he didn’t get angry. He fell into step beside me, continuing his monologue. “But I never imagined you’d be so obsessed with me that you’d marry my look-alike. Look, I’m a reasonable guy, more patient than you are. A substitute is just a substitute. Now that I’m back, you can— Hey, why’d you stop walking?” I’d been trying to let his words go in one ear and out the other, but he was getting more and more ridiculous. I was about to tell him not to flatter himself when a single comment froze me in place. 【The ML is here.】 9 I didn’t have time to argue with Trent. This was the absolute worst time for Ethan to see him. After getting my doctorate, I’d stayed on as a faculty member. I had already called Ethan and asked him to pick me up so we could go shopping for groceries. I knew the university was hosting an alumni symposium today, and Trent must have been an invited speaker. The campus is huge. I never thought my luck would be this bad. “You remember where the faculty offices in Building C are, right? Fourth floor,” I asked, trying to sound casual. Trent opened his mouth to say something, but I was out of patience. I shoved the entire stack of files into his arms. “If you don’t remember, ask someone. Take these there for me. I have to go. Goodbye forever.” I fired off the words and immediately started speed-walking towards the main gate. But as I rounded the first corner, I came face-to-face with Ethan. My heart hammered against my ribs. Panicked, I grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the exit. 【This is so intense.】 【Aw, that’s it? I was hoping for a showdown.】 The comments clearly didn’t care about my survival. I hadn’t found the right time to tell Ethan about my past, and if Trent found out he was the substitute, he would throw a fit of epic proportions. I didn’t have the energy for that. Thank god I’d moved fast. They had missed each other by seconds.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384723”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My best friend and I were trapped by a System, forced to seduce the cruel male leads of a novel. My target, Kevin Bright, was disgusted by my affection, calling me a “twisted freak” and an “unwanted stray.” Her target, Marcus Blackwood, used her as his emotional punching bag, refusing to even answer her final, desperate phone call. We hit our breaking point. A game of rock-paper-scissors and two faked deaths later, we were finally free, back in our own reality. But now, they’ve chased us here. They’re playing the part of heartbroken lovers, desperate for a second chance. And they think regret is a price high enough to buy back our hearts? … My best friend and I were shackled to the same System, forced to play a game of seduction inside a novel. Her target: Marcus Blackwood, the impenetrable stoic. Her mission: to conquer his body. My target: Kevin Bright, my cold, distant guardian. My mission: to shatter his heart. But Marcus was an ascetic who spent his days in quiet contemplation, utterly immune to the temptations of the flesh. And Kevin, still obsessed with an old flame, hadn’t seen me as anything more than a child in the three years we’d lived together. We were being crushed. I was done. “I’m exhausted,” I messaged her. “I’m tapping out. You?” “If you’re out, I’m out.” It was a deal. We immediately pulled out our phones, calculated our savings, and planned our escape. “But…” I hesitated. “Which one of us… dies first?” “First to die gets to go home. The other one has to clean up the mess—arrange the funeral, tie up loose ends.” Our eyes met across the screen. Stella’s message popped up first. “I’ve had it worse. I’ll go first.” “No way,” I typed back. “Rock-paper-scissors. I can’t stand another second in this godforsaken place.” “Fine. You’re on.” She chose scissors. I chose paper. She won. I stomped my foot in frustration. “Fine! You die, I’ll plan the funeral.” Stella went silent for the next two days. I was morbidly curious about what method she’d chosen to end it all. That evening, just as I was about to call her, my phone rang. It was her. “Alice…” Her voice was thick, the words slurred, nearly swallowed by a howling wind. “Are you drunk?” My heart clenched. “Just a little,” she said, letting out a small hiccup. “Liquid courage… I’m about to do something big.” I shot up from the sofa. “What happened to next Friday? That was the plan!” We had agreed she would go in seven days. I’d handle the aftermath, then follow. “I can’t wait anymore.” The wind tore at her words. “I think today is a good day. I want to die today.” Her voice cracked with a pain so raw it vibrated through the phone. “Alice, I just wanted to see Marcus one last time… I gave him three years of my life. I know him so well I can tell what he wants in bed from a single glance… and I get nothing? I can’t accept it…” “He’s having dinner with her… with Seraphina… He won’t even answer my calls…” “Three years… A dog would have learned to wag its tail for me by now…” “But he still doesn’t want me…” “That bastard, Marcus… he won’t even give me one damn phone call… Since today is Seraphina’s birthday, I’ll just make it my death day. A day he will never, ever forget.” She rambled on, a torrent of broken thoughts, but her intention was terrifyingly clear. She was leaving tonight, and she had wanted one last conversation, one last chance to hear Marcus’s voice. He had denied her even that. “No,” I said, my voice shaking as I scrambled for my keys and sprinted out the door. “You can’t. I’m not ready for you to go. You can’t do this.” “Stella, where are you? Wait for me, please! Let me be with you!” “Alice…” She wasn’t listening, lost in her own world of pain. “Jumping is… messy. You’ll have to find the best mortician to make me look beautiful again.” “And don’t bury me. I’m afraid of the dark. Have me cremated, and scatter my ashes in the Veridian River. Make sure Marcus can never find me.” Every word was a needle in my heart. I felt her agony as if it were my own; I had watched her suffer for three long years. A chill washed over me, but I forced my voice to stay calm. “Whatever you want, Stella. I’ll do it all. But you have to tell me where you are. I want to be with you.” “No… I don’t want you to see… It would scare you…” The line went quiet, filled only by the screaming wind. I ran through the streets like a madwoman, shouting her name until my legs gave out and I collapsed onto the cold pavement. A final, soft message came through the speaker. “Alice, I’ll be waiting for you at home.” CRACK. 2 At the foot of the Apex Tower, I saw her fall. Like a broken butterfly, she plummeted from the eighteenth floor. A spray of crimson stained the pristine concrete. Stella died right in front of me. I knelt beside her, my hand trembling as I reached out to touch her face, my body wracked with sobs. “You love being beautiful more than anything… how could you choose to go like this…?” I knew, logically, that she wasn’t truly dead. We would see each other again in our real world. But watching this, feeling the finality of it, shattered me. I had overestimated my own strength and underestimated how much of my soul was tied to hers. For three years, we had been each other’s only lifeline, the only reason we survived the endless nights of cruelty. At the crematorium, I was the one who pushed her body into the furnace. I watched the flames consume the face that had once been so full of life and laughter. When the attendant handed me the small, heavy box, the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. “Stella… how could you be so small now…?” Following her wishes, I went to the river and poured her ashes into the churning water. The current seized them instantly, washing away every last trace of her. Just like that, she was gone. “Wait for me,” I whispered to the water. “I’m coming soon.” Stella’s phone, which I’d kept in my bag, buzzed. I pulled it out. A message from Marcus. [The Grand Elysian Hotel. Eight o’clock tonight. Be there.] A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. He was always like this. Her feelings never mattered. She was a tool for his release, to be summoned and dismissed at his whim. When he didn’t need her, he vanished. When he did, she was expected to drop everything. And for what? Because she loved him? Did that give him the right to trample on her heart? I didn’t reply. I just turned off the phone. He had missed his chance to say goodbye. Now he could live with that regret forever. I sat by the river until dawn, then finally went home. The morning sun felt cold on my skin. I was tired, bone-deep tired. The System demanded I maintain my character’s persona: the hopelessly devoted girl. So, no matter how ugly our fights were, I always woke up at six a.m. to make breakfast for Kevin. The System always offered the same placating line: It’s bitter now, but it will be sweet in the end. Once you succeed, a man like Kevin will worship you. But in three years, all I had tasted was bitterness. Stella’s affairs were settled. It was my turn to leave. I picked up a knife from the kitchen block, holding the cool blade to my wrist. I hesitated. I made a few false starts, then put it back down with a sigh. Kevin despised me. If I died in his house, he would probably be disgusted. He always said I wasn’t worthy of the Bright name. That his brother and his wife never should have adopted me, raising a “perverse beast” who would fall for her own guardian. He said I deserved to be abandoned, that I was nothing but an unwanted stray. But it wasn’t my fault I was abandoned. If I’d had a choice, I would never have wanted to be a Bright. No one ever gave me a choice about anything. Not even being bound by the System. I collapsed onto my bed and, against all odds, fell asleep. In the hazy twilight of my dreams, the System’s cold, mechanical voice echoed. “Alice Hayes. You have accumulated enough points. The exit portal is now open. Please be prepared to depart by tomorrow night.” Good, I thought. I’m going home. I woke with a start and spent the rest of the night purging the villa of every single thing that belonged to me. 3 I dragged everything out into the torrential rain, dumping it all by the curb for the trash collectors. The downpour washed away everything, including the last vestiges of my obsession with Kevin Bright. From now on, not a single trace of me would remain in this house. Once I was finished, I called a cab to the Veridian River. I took out Stella’s phone and powered it on. A flood of missed calls and messages poured in, all from Marcus. [Stella, you’re late.] [Answer your phone. What game are you playing now?] [Get to the hotel. Don’t make me repeat myself.] Each message was colder than the last. No concern, only commands. I stared at them blankly, then found the audio file of Stella’s final, desperate phone call with me. I sent it to Marcus. After the “message sent” notification appeared, I threw the phone as hard as I could into the dark water. I wondered what his face would look like when he heard it. Would he feel a pang of sadness? A sliver of regret for the way he had hurt her? It didn’t matter. Stella would never see it, and I wouldn’t be around long enough to find out. This was just a game, after all. Who cares what an NPC thinks after you’ve cleared the level? The wind off the river was biting. I pulled my coat tighter and took out my own phone, posting one last message to the world. “The world is beautiful, but I won’t be back for a second life. I don’t regret being a Bright, but in death, let me be free. Do not place me in the family crypt. Grant me this one freedom. —Alice Hayes, farewell.” After posting, I dialed Kevin’s number. In my final moments, I wanted to say goodbye to the person who had been the center of my world for so long. But just like Stella, no matter how many times I called, the line just rang and rang. A bitter laugh escaped me. I pushed down the last flicker of hope. I switched to video mode and aimed the camera at myself. On the screen, my hair was a tangled mess in the wind, my face pale but resolute. “Kevin, it’s been fifteen years since the Brights adopted me at six. You told me you would always protect me, that you would be my hero…” “When I was in middle school and those boys cornered me after class, you fought them off. You said no one was allowed to bully your family.” “You took me to the amusement park, on the Ferris wheel… you sang to me at the very top… Every moment of joy, every flutter in my heart during my youth… it all came from you…” My voice started to break. “Kevin, you were the one who came to me first. You gave me every reason to dream, only to turn on me, to change completely the moment you realized I loved you.” “You were disgusted by me. You avoided me. You thought my love was repulsive and you stood by while others mocked me for it…” “You always said my love was twisted and sick, but… I just loved you. That’s all it was.” I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Kevin, I couldn’t choose my family or where I came from. But I can choose to leave.” “From now on, there will be no Alice Hayes in this world… You’re free…” I pressed send, sending the 2-minute, 17-second video to Kevin. A wave of relief washed over me. I dropped my phone onto the sand. Facing the icy waves, I walked step by step into the deep. The water rose past my chest, then to my neck, until finally, it swallowed me whole. In the utter silence that followed, the abandoned phone on the beach lit up one last time. The caller ID read: Kevin. 4 Kevin watched the video again and again, his thumb compulsively hitting redial. “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable…” The cold, automated voice was a hammer blow with every syllable. He gripped the phone, his knuckles white. “Alice Hayes! Still playing these ridiculous suicide games! How absurd!” He called his assistant, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “Get a team to the coast. Find Alice Hayes and bring her back to me. Now.” The ferocity in his voice was a desperate attempt to crush the panic blooming in his chest. He tried to stand, but his legs felt weak, unsteady. “Sir, where are we going?” his driver asked, helping him into the car, his own face etched with worry. “Home.” She had finished her little drama. She would have to come home now. She was too tenacious, too full of life to do something so permanent. He just had to wait at home, and she would come back. She had to be bluffing. She had to be. At the villa, Seraphina Vance was watching TV in the living room. She looked up in surprise as he stormed in. “Kevin, you’re home early.” She moved to take his coat, but he grabbed her wrist, his grip like iron. His voice was a raw rasp. “Where is Alice?” Seraphina cried out in pain, tears welling in her eyes. “Kevin, you’re hurting me.” He snapped back to reality and let her go. “Sorry…” He didn’t have the patience for this. He turned and rushed upstairs. Alice’s room was pristine, sterile, and empty. All the gifts he’d ever bought her, all her belongings—gone. “Housekeeper! Where are all of Miss Hayes’s things?” The housekeeper flinched at his tone. She had never seen him so enraged. “Miss Hayes said she no longer liked them, sir. She had them all cleared out.” “When?” “She’s been clearing things out for a few days. The last of it was taken this morning.” The words stole the strength from his limbs. Kevin slumped against the wall. Every excuse, every bit of denial he had clung to, crumbled to dust. A terrifying dread grew inside him, a black hole threatening to swallow him whole. He frantically called his assistant again. “Have you found her?” “Not yet, sir…” The sound of the howling wind came through the phone, a phantom chill that seeped into his bones. Why does my chest ache like this? The video wasn’t real, right? She just went out with her friend, right? Her friend! Of course! She and Stella Gordon were inseparable. She had to be with Stella. Kevin shot upright, his fingers fumbling as he found Marcus Blackwood’s number. “Marcus, where is Stella? Is she with Alice?” Marcus’s hand trembled around his own phone. At the question, a shimmer of moisture glossed his eyes. Where was Stella? He didn’t know. He was sitting in a reception room at the city police department. On the table in front of him was Stella Gordon’s death certificate. She had died on Seraphina’s birthday, on the very night he had deliberately ignored her endless stream of calls. When he first received the audio recording, he’d dismissed it as another one of her desperate ploys for attention. But when she never answered his return calls, a cold panic had set in, driving him here to file a missing person’s report. Only to be told the person he was looking for was already gone. Officially. Permanently. He couldn’t name the emotion that gripped him. He just knew that the recording of her last words had become a scythe, each word carving a fresh wound into his heart. “She’s… gone,” Marcus said, the two words costing him all his strength. He sat frozen, unaware that tears were streaming down his face. The news struck Kevin like a bolt of lightning. The word gone echoed in his mind like a nightmare. How could this be?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384740”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For three years, I had sponsored Caleb, a student from a disadvantaged background. Today, he had finally graduated from college. He stood at my doorstep, his arms laden with bags of gifts from his hometown, his sun-weathered face beaming with simple gratitude. “Jenna, I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. Please, you have to accept these small tokens of my appreciation.” I smiled warmly and invited him in, a genuine happiness blooming in my chest. But as I turned to get him a glass of water, a cold, insidious voice echoed in my mind. This apartment is in a prime location. If I kill her, it’ll all be mine. My hand trembled, and the glass I was holding slipped, shattering on the floor. 1 I took a deep breath, swept up the broken glass, and poured a fresh glass of water. Composing myself, I walked back into the living room with a practiced smile. “Here you go, Caleb. Have some water.” “Thank you, Jenna.” He took the glass, his eyes still radiating that same rustic innocence. Her parents’ old place is worth a fortune, too. I remember her mentioning it was in a historic district downtown, a prime school zone. Tomorrow, I’ll go ‘visit’ them, under the guise of thanking them for their support. Once her entire family has died in ‘accidents,’ I’ll be the master of this house. Then I’ll use her identity to take out loans and figure out a way to drain her company’s funds. Perfect. This young man with the guileless smile was sipping his water, his eyes filled with what looked like a hopeful gaze toward the future. My back was instantly drenched in a cold sweat. I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white, just barely managing to stifle a scream. It wasn’t a hallucination. This boy, whom I had sponsored for three years, whom I had treated like a younger brother, was methodically listing off a venomous, step-by-step plan to murder my entire family. A viper I’d welcomed into my home, now poised to strike and steal everything. Run! Call the police! That was the first thought that screamed through my mind. But I couldn’t. There were no security cameras inside my apartment, and there had been no physical altercation between us. If I acted rashly and the police came, what would I say? That I could hear his thoughts? They’d think I was having a psychotic break. Worse, it would tip him off. This wolf in sheep’s clothing, this monster masquerading as a simple boy, would only retreat deeper into the shadows, devising more subtle, more insidious ways to destroy me and my family. I had to stay calm. I forced a smile, gesturing toward the gifts he’d brought. “Caleb, this is so thoughtful of you. Have you eaten dinner? Why don’t you stay? I’ll cook something special.” Caleb immediately set down his glass, his eyes lighting up, his smile somehow becoming even more “sincere.” “Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose! That would be too much trouble for you, Jenna.” Eat? Of course, I’ll eat. This is the perfect chance to add the special ingredient I brought. It’s a powder ground from poison mushrooms foraged from the mountains back home. Colorless, odorless. Ingesting it causes total organ failure within three hours. Not even a miracle could save her. The police will rule it accidental food poisoning. My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. He’d even brought the murder weapon with him. I glanced at the overstuffed canvas bag. Those seemingly innocent hometown specialties were my death warrant. “No trouble at all,” I said, my voice strained but hopefully steady as I stood up. “What would you like? Let me see what I have in the fridge.” I needed an excuse. An excuse to get out of his line of sight and call for help. “Jenna, I’d love anything you make,” Caleb said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Oh! The dried bamboo shoots I brought would be amazing in a soup. How about we make a pork rib and bamboo shoot soup tonight?” He was showing his hand. My heart hammered against my ribs, but my face remained a mask of pleasantness. “That sounds delicious! Great idea. But…” I feigned a look of distress, wrinkling my brow. “What terrible timing. I had a bad reaction to some seafood a couple of days ago. The doctor told me to stick to a bland diet for a while, so I can’t have rich soups right now.” A flicker of almost imperceptible disappointment crossed Caleb’s face. Too bad. The soup would have been so easy. But it doesn’t matter. She has to drink water eventually. Pretending not to notice, I walked toward the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I’ll still make it for you. I’ll be happy just watching you enjoy it. I’ll start the rice.” The kitchen had a semi-open layout; he could see my every move. I couldn’t make a call or send a text. Any unusual action would trigger his suspicion. With my back to him, my mind raced. I needed backup. Someone who would understand my situation immediately, someone formidable, someone who didn’t play by the rules. The police were out. My friends were mostly office workers like me… Then, a name exploded in my mind—my cousin, Marcus. Marcus was… well, he knew how to handle things. He’d run with a rough crowd in his youth but had gone straight and now owned a successful security firm. He employed a crew of guys who specialized in solving “difficult” problems. He might seem like a carefree joker, but we grew up together, and he was more protective of me than an actual brother. Only he could handle this unconventional demon with unconventional methods. I poked my head out of the kitchen, smiling. “Caleb, I just remembered. I promised my cousin I’d help him find a reliable intern. Since you just graduated and are looking for a job, what if I called him over? You two could chat in person.” “A job?” Caleb’s eyes lit up, a flash of raw greed passing through them. Perfect! After I kill her, I can use the ‘internship’ as a legitimate reason to get inside her company and prepare for the next phase of my plan! His thoughts confirmed it. This was the perfect bait. “Yeah,” I said, pulling out my phone and pretending to scroll through my contacts casually. “My cousin owns his own company. He’s a great guy, really generous, and he’s looking for a sharp assistant. I think you’d be a perfect fit! If you’re interested, I’ll call him over to join us for dinner.” “Interested? Of course, I’m interested!” Caleb shot to his feet, practically vibrating with excitement. “Thank you, Jenna! You’re truly my guardian angel!” I smiled, dialed my cousin Marcus’s number in front of him, and hit the speakerphone button. The phone rang twice before he picked up, his lazy drawl filling the air. “Yo, Jenna. What’s up? Did some deadbeat boyfriend break your heart again? Need your big bro to come knock some heads together?” A massive weight lifted from my shoulders. I cleared my throat and adopted a light, almost boastful tone. “Get lost! I’m calling to offer you some top-tier talent! Remember that student I sponsor, Caleb? I told you about him. Well, he graduated and came to visit me today. I thought, since you’re looking for people, maybe he could come work for you.” Caleb leaned in close to the phone, his voice a mix of nerves and politeness. “Hello, Mr. Marcus!” Marcus was silent for a beat, then burst out laughing. “Alright, alright. If you’re recommending him, Jenna, then I gotta give him a shot. Tell you what, I’m in the neighborhood. I’ll be there in half an hour. I’ll bring a good bottle of whiskey, we can eat and talk.” “Great, but hurry up,” I said, adding emphasis. “Oh, and bro? On your way over, could you do me a favor and deal with the mad dog from old Mr. Henderson’s place downstairs?” Marcus’s voice paused. “Mad dog? I thought Mr. Henderson had a little poodle.” My heart seized, but my voice remained calm. “Ugh, don’t even ask. I don’t know what’s gotten into it lately, but that poodle’s gone rabid. It tries to lunge and bite at everyone. It even tried to break into my place yesterday! I’m here alone, and it’s terrifying. You’ve got those big dogs, right? Could you bring a heavy-duty steel cage? We need to lock it up before it hurts someone.” I spoke slowly and clearly. “Mad dog.” “Tried to break into my place.” “A heavy-duty steel cage.” It was our code. When we were kids, our families lived across the hall from each other. A neighbor had a vicious dog that nearly mauled me once. It was Marcus who saved me, cornering it with a baseball bat. Ever since, “mad dog” had been our code for an extremely dangerous person. The line was silent for a few seconds. I could picture the playful smirk vanishing from his face, replaced by a cold, hard focus. “Right. I get it,” his voice was steady and clipped. “I’ll bring the cage. Lock your door. Wait for me.” After he hung up, I let out a long, shuddering breath. Caleb was completely oblivious, still basking in the glow of his supposed job offer. This cousin sounds like some rich idiot. Perfect. After I inherit everything from Jenna, I’ll absorb his company too. A murderous rage churned within me. Absorb my cousin’s company? Caleb, you will never get the chance. Tonight, this home is the steel cage I’ve prepared just for you. Half an hour felt like a century. I pretended to be busy in the kitchen, washing and chopping vegetables, but my peripheral vision was locked on Caleb in the living room. He sat on the sofa, appearing restless and antsy, his hands constantly rubbing against his pants like a nervous young man before a job interview. But his mind was a different story. What is this woman doing, puttering around in the kitchen for so long? The rice isn’t even on yet. What if her idiot cousin shows up and complicates things? No, I can’t wait any longer. I have to stick to the original plan. First, get her to drink the drugged water. My stomach dropped. I saw him pick up his water glass and walk toward me. “Jenna, you’ve been working so hard. Take a break. Let me help.” His face was a mask of profound concern. But I saw it. As he got closer, his fingertip quickly brushed the rim of the glass. A fine, colorless powder dissolved silently into the water. “No, no, I’m almost done!” I said, waving my hands, my heart about to explode out of my throat. “Jenna, just have a sip of water. You’re sweating.” He was insistent, pushing the glass toward my lips, his eyes holding a glint of unyielding obsession. I stared at the glass. Dissolved inside was a poison that would destroy my organs from the inside out. What could I do? Knock it away? That would mean showing my hand, and physically, I was no match for him. In a flash of inspiration, I swayed violently, pretending to lose my balance. The kitchen knife in my hand “slipped,” clattering to the floor with a loud clang, the tip pointing directly at his feet. “Ah!” Caleb yelped, instinctively jumping back to avoid the blade. The sudden movement caused the water in the glass to slosh out, spilling most of its contents onto the floor. “I’m so sorry, so sorry!” I apologized frantically, crouching down to pick up the knife. “I’ve been working so much overtime lately, I think my blood sugar is low. I just got dizzy.” Caleb’s face was a thundercloud of fury, but it quickly smoothed back into his usual harmless expression, though a new layer of impatience hardened his eyes. Useless woman! Can’t even hold a glass of water steady! It seems the gentle approach isn’t going to work. This woman is more alert than I thought. He bent down, reaching out to help me up, but I could hear the vicious snarl of his thoughts. I’ll have to tie her up first! When her cousin gets here, I’ll find a way to lure him onto the balcony and push him from behind! A twenty-story fall, he won’t survive. Then I’ll come back and finish her off. I’ll say they were arguing, that he killed her in a fit of rage and then jumped to his death. My body went rigid. “Jenna, are you okay?” he asked, his hand on my arm, while his other hand crept toward the canvas bag with the “gifts.” From the side of the bag, I could see the unmistakable end of a coarse, thick rope. Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Just as Caleb’s fingers were about to touch the rope, the doorbell rang. Sharp, loud, like a thunderclap of salvation. Caleb’s movement froze, his face a mixture of surprise and frustration. Who is it? Her cousin said half an hour! It’s only been twenty minutes! Pure joy surged through me. I scrambled away from Caleb’s grasp, practically crawling toward the front door. “Must be the delivery I ordered! I got some fruit!” I babbled, fumbling with the doorknob. Caleb was right behind me, his eyes fixed on me like a wolf’s, one hand already reaching for his pants pocket. I could see the hard outline of what looked like a folding knife. He was ready to kill me. My hand on the doorknob was shaking uncontrollably. Please, let it be Marcus. Please. I threw the door open. Standing on the other side was, indeed, my cousin Marcus. And he wasn’t alone. Behind him stood four burly men in black t-shirts, all built like brick walls, with sharp, watchful eyes. They were professionals. And Marcus, at the lead, had shed his usual jokester persona. His expression was as cold and hard as ice. In his hand, glinting under the hallway light, was a large, heavy-duty, steel pet cage. The scene was surreal. The color drained from Caleb’s face. The hand gripping the knife in his pocket froze solid.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384756”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel