Category: English

Right after the SATs, I went to our senior prom. At the party, I took a single drink and blacked out completely. When I woke up, I was lying naked in Ethan’s bed. And Chloe, our school’s resident mean girl, was holding a camera right in my face, snapping photos. “You have no idea how pathetic and desperate you looked last night!” she sneered. The other classmates gathered in the hotel room burst into a chorus of nasty laughter. Then Ethan, my childhood best friend whom I grew up with, tossed a giant T-shirt at me. “Are you stupid? Didn’t you know that drink was spiked with a roofie?” Tears streamed down my face. I didn’t even dare to ask what had actually happened last night. Ethan looked at me with pure disgust. “Forget it. Chloe was just playing a joke. Don’t look so victimized. With you looking like a fat pig, what guy would actually want to touch you?” At that exact moment, my ten-year-old crush on Ethan died a brutal death. Ethan’s shirt was huge, fitting me like a baggy dress. Chloe held the camera, lightly kicking a husky lying on the floor with her sneaker. “Look at how she was hugging this dog last night. Kissing it and rubbing all over it. It was hilarious. I’ve never seen anyone get horny over a dog before.” A few people laughed along, but their voices quickly quieted down. Some classmates stole glances at me, looking a bit uneasy but saying nothing. Ethan poured a glass of warm water and walked over. I reached out to take it, but he bypassed my hand and handed it directly to Chloe. “Rinse your mouth. You’ve laughed your throat hoarse.” Chloe took the glass and winked at me maliciously. “My bad, April. Maybe the joke went a little too far.” “But seriously, I didn’t think you’d actually drink it. The cup literally had a sticky note that said ‘Don’t drink.’” I kept my mouth shut. There was indeed a cup on the table, and the sticky note on it was now soggy and illegible. But last night, that cup had been handed to me by Ethan. He had grabbed it from the table and shoved it into my hands. “Drink up, your face is super red.” Only after I took two big gulps did he lazily add, “Oh, actually, I think I grabbed the wrong one.” Chloe had led the applause then, and everyone cheered. I hadn’t realized what was happening in my hazy state. And after that, my memory went completely blank. The next morning, my photos spread like wildfire across our school’s Snapchat groups. Me, hugging a husky, clothes disheveled, face twisted in tears. The caption read: “One night for $100. Best deal in town.” There were over three hundred people in that group chat. Ethan was one of them. He didn’t leave the group. He didn’t say a single word to stop them. He only sent me one private message. “Don’t take it too seriously.” I stared at those five words all night. I never replied. On the day we had to go back to school to sign our final college enrollment forms, I wore an oversized black T-shirt. I tried my best to blend into the shadows. But the moment I walked into the classroom, someone let out a loud whistle. “Hey look, the dog-girl is here.” Whispers and giggles erupted, elbows digging into ribs. I walked to my desk. Carved deeply into the wooden surface were four words: “FAT PIG FOR SLAUGHTER.” I didn’t know when they had carved it, but the gashes were deep. I covered it up with a piece of scrap paper. Chloe sat diagonally in front of me. She turned around with a sweet smile. “April, which college are you committing to?” “Ethan and I are both going to Harvard. Why don’t you come with us?” She wrapped her arm around Ethan’s, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Once we’re in college, we can still look out for you.” Ethan kept his head down, flipping through his college paperwork, not looking at me once. A guy sitting nearby scoffed. “Why would she go to Harvard? Does the dining hall need someone to clear out the trash cans?” The classroom burst into laughter. Ethan finally looked up and said quietly, “That’s enough.” His voice wasn’t loud, but the laughter died down instantly. Chloe pouted. “It was just a joke, Ethan. You’re always so protective of her.” Ethan didn’t reply. Instead, he turned around to look at me. “What happened to your leg?” I froze. His eyes fell on my knees. I had tripped on the stairs yesterday, scraping off a patch of skin and leaving a massive, ugly purple bruise. My cropped pants couldn’t hide it. “It’s nothing,” I said flatly. “Did you put ointment on it?” “Yes.” He dug a fresh tube of ointment out of his backpack and tossed it onto my desk. “This is new. Put it on twice a day.” Seeing this, Chloe snatched at it. “I want some too! I scraped my knee yesterday too.” Ethan pinned her hand down. “Like hell you did. Who was the one whining for me to carry them up the stairs last night?” Chloe giggled, her voice dripping with honey. “Then you should carry April too. Her leg is actually hurt.” Ethan stayed silent. Chloe chuckled nastily. “Oh, right. You can’t carry her. She’s too heavy. Haha.” Her laughter was shrill, sounding like nails on a chalkboard. I ripped open the packaging of the ointment, squeezed a bit out, and slowly dabbed it onto my knee. It felt cold, then it began to sting. Ethan turned to me again. “Seriously, which school are you choosing?” “I haven’t decided yet.” “Stop overthinking. Harvard. Have you signed the acceptance form?” “Yes.” “Which choice is it?” “My top choice.” He nodded, looking visibly relieved. “Good.” “Your GPA is just enough to get in. Don’t waste your potential on some local community college.” Chloe chipped in, “Going to community college is fine too. At least she’d be close to home to cook for her mom.” I remained silent. Ethan shot Chloe a warning look, and Chloe stuck her tongue out. “What? Did I say something wrong? Her mom literally runs a cheap little diner.” “Though, honestly, her pork stew is actually pretty good.”

The bell rang. Mrs. Gable walked in to distribute the official, triplicated enrollment confirmation forms. Once we signed the bottom of these printed sheets, our college decisions were legally locked in and unchangeable. The classroom went dead quiet, filled only with the scratching of pens. My fingers gripped my pen so tightly they turned white. Ethan leaned over and whispered, “Let me check yours before you sign. Don’t make a mistake.” I didn’t acknowledge him. He began writing his own name in his signature, messy cursive. Chloe copied his choices, writing slowly, a step behind him. Just then, Chloe’s phone buzzed loudly. She picked it up, her loud voice echoing through the quiet room. “Hey, Mom! Yeah, I’m signing my college forms right now.” “What? Oh, you mean April’s photos?” “That wasn’t me! I don’t know who leaked them to the group chat.” She chuckled into the receiver. “Oh my god, seriously, it has nothing to do with me. I just filmed the video; I didn’t post it.” “I only showed it to Ethan. He was the one laughing his head off at it.” Several classmates turned their heads to look at me, then quickly looked back down. Some were shaking their shoulders, trying desperately to hold in their giggles. Ethan’s hand froze mid-stroke. He shot Chloe a frustrated look, then turned to soothe me. “I need to go to the office for a second. Just ignore her. She’s just acting like a dumb girl. The drama will blow over in a couple of days.” I stopped writing. I stared at the back of Chloe’s head. She was still on the phone, her voice getting louder and more arrogant. “Seriously, Mom, you should have heard her. She was moaning so loud while hugging that husky.” “No guy would ever touch her. No one would take her even if she paid them $100.” “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. I’ll show you the video when I get home tonight. It’s comedy gold.” I stood up. My chair legs scraped against the floor, making a sharp, screeching sound. The classroom fell dead silent. Chloe turned around, her phone still pressed to her ear. “What?” I walked over to her. I stopped right in front of her desk. Then, I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. The loud, crisp crack echoed off the walls. Chloe was completely stunned. Her phone flew out of her hand, the screen shattering as it hit the floor. She clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with shock, her mouth open but unable to make a sound. Everyone was staring. The air in the room froze solid. My voice sounded incredibly calm, even to my own ears. “That first slap is for your parents, since they clearly failed to raise you.” “A mouth is meant for speaking human words, not spewing trash.” Chloe finally snapped out of her shock. She bolted up, knocking her chair backward. She was half a head taller than me, and she shoved me hard. “You slapped me? You bitch, you dare slap me?!” The shove sent me stumbling back, my back slamming painfully into the edge of a desk. A sharp ache flared up, but I took a step forward anyway. I raised my hand again and delivered a second slap. This time she tried to dodge, but my palm caught her hard across the ear, sending her stumbling sideways. Pens and papers on her desk went flying everywhere. “This second slap is for myself.” “You filmed me, posted my photos, and humiliated me for three straight days.” “Did you think it was funny?” I glared at her, my eyes burning, but I refused to let a single tear fall. “Is it still funny now?” Chloe clutched both sides of her face, her eyes welling with tears as she screamed at the top of her lungs: “Ethan!”

The classroom door was pushed open. Ethan walked back in, holding some papers he had just printed from the main office. The moment he saw the chaos, his face darkened completely. “What the hell is going on?” Chloe lunged at him, grabbing his arm desperately. “She hit me! She’s completely insane, Ethan! She hit me!” Ethan looked at the red handprints blooming on her cheeks, then turned his gaze to me. “You slapped her?” I looked him straight in the eyes. “She deserved it.” His expression shifted from disbelief to cold anger. “I told you, Chloe was just joking.” “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Nothing actually happened to you that night anyway.” Ethan had beautiful eyes and a perfectly straight nose. When he spoke, his Adam’s apple bobbed. I used to think every single part of him was designed perfectly to fit my heart. Now, all I felt was a dull, heavy ache. “A joke? She called me a fat pig for three days, and I ignored it.” “She set me up, and I let it slide.” “She filmed me and put it online, and did you say a single word?” Ethan frowned. “Chloe filmed the video, yes, but she wasn’t the one who posted it to the group chat.” “It was her mom who accidentally forwarded it.” I let out a cold, cynical laugh. “She literally just said on the phone that she only showed it to you.” Ethan’s face went rigid. Chloe gripped his arm even tighter. “Ethan, I didn’t say that! She’s lying…” Ethan glanced at her, then back at me. His lips parted, but all he said was, “Even if she did, you shouldn’t have resorted to violence.” I nodded slowly. “Right. I shouldn’t have hit her.” “I should have kept quiet, kept being your little punching bag and your favorite joke.” “For three years in high school, you guys gave me cruel nicknames, hid my homework, and stuffed trash into my locker.” “On my birthday, she gifted me weight-loss pills while you stood there laughing.” “When I gave my speech on stage, she led the crowd in booing me off, and you stood by doing absolutely nothing.” “Ethan, I used to think you were just bad at expressing yourself.” “I actually believed that deep down, you cared about me.” My voice began to tremble. “When you handed me that drink last night… did you know what was in it?” Ethan didn’t say a word. His silence was my answer. I inhaled deeply and nodded. “I see.” I turned around and walked back to my desk. I picked up the enrollment confirmation form. “Are you finished signing?” Ethan’s voice called out from behind me. I ignored him. He spoke again, his tone carrying that usual, arrogant sense of authority. “Don’t throw a tantrum. Your college choice affects your entire life. If you aren’t with me at Harvard, I worry you won’t…” He sounded so casual, as if the conflict we just had was nothing but a minor lover’s spat. I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket. Just then, my phone rang. It was my mom. I picked it up and walked to the very end of the hallway to answer. “Hey, Mom.” “April, sweetie, have you signed the form? You’re going to Harvard, right?” My mom’s voice sounded exhausted from her long shift at the diner, but it was incredibly warm. “Don’t worry about the money. I’ll take on extra shifts. We can afford the tuition.” “Ethan is going to Harvard too, right? Since you two grew up together, you can look out for each other.” I leaned against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. Tears fell, hot and heavy, onto the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to answer because I didn’t want her to hear me crying. I quickly hung up. I walked back into the classroom. Ethan was standing right by my desk, holding his signed enrollment sheet. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. I took it and glanced at it. First choice: Harvard University. Major: Computer Science. The second choice line was left blank. He had only filled out one option. “Fill yours out the exact same way. Don’t overthink it. Your GPA is a guaranteed lock for Harvard.” I stared at his handwriting. The ink was barely dry. Chloe was back in her seat, pressing a wet paper towel to her cheek. She glared at me, muttering under her breath, “Psycho. Like a rabid dog.” Ethan turned to her. “Shut up, Chloe.” Chloe went quiet, but rolled her eyes dramatically. Mrs. Gable walked back into the room. “Alright class, listen up. Once you sign this form, it’s final. It cannot be changed.” “We have twenty minutes before the portal closes. Get them to my desk.” She stood at the podium and began collecting the sheets. I walked straight up to the front, grabbed a pen from the teacher’s desk, and laid my paper down flat. The system would lock in five minutes. I raised the pen and drew a heavy, brutal line right through “Harvard University.” I scribbled over it so hard that the paper made a sharp scratching sound. “What are you doing?!” Ethan lunged forward, grabbing my wrist in a tight grip. “Are you insane?!” I ripped my hand away from his grasp. Mrs. Gable stood up immediately. “Ethan, do not interfere with other students’ enrollment forms.” Ethan ignored her, his eyes locked onto mine. “April, where are you committing?!” I didn’t say a word. I kept writing. He reached out to snatch the paper away from me. I dodged, my wrist slamming hard against the sharp corner of the podium. A jolt of pain shot up my arm. “Where the hell are you going?!” he roared. The entire classroom stared at us in shock. Chloe stood up, her face filled with confusion. I finished writing. I slapped the paper down onto Mrs. Gable’s desk. I signed my name. And pressed my thumbprint on the seal. Mrs. Gable looked at the paper, then looked up at me in shock. “Are you sure about this, April?” “Yes.” “Alright. It’s submitted.” The computer let out a soft beep. The enrollment portal was officially closed.

Ethan stood by the podium, his face a mask of absolute disbelief. I walked down the steps, trying to pass him. He grabbed my arm roughly. “April! You…” I looked down at his hand, then up at his face. “Let go of me.” He didn’t budge. I forced his fingers off my arm, one by one. “Is all of this really necessary? Just over a stupid joke?!” he snapped. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked toward the exit. Chloe’s mocking voice rang out from behind. “Oh, look at her playing hard to get. Does she seriously think this is going to make you chase her, Ethan?” “Just let her go. She’ll come crawling back in a couple of days anyway…” Before I could even cross the threshold of the door, Ethan took two giant strides, caught up to me, and yanked my wrist back. The force of his pull spun me halfway around. “Where did you commit?!” “April! Answer me!” His eyes were bloodshot, his face contorted in a rage I had never seen before. Chloe swaggered over, standing right behind him with her arms crossed. “Forget it, Ethan. Where else could she possibly go? Probably that cheap state school down south. She’s just putting on a show to scare you.” She laughed nastily. “Look at her legs. She walks like a penguin.” I struggled to free my wrist, but I couldn’t. Ethan’s hand was like an iron shackle. I stopped fighting and stared directly into his eyes. “Ethan, what makes you think I would ever want to go to the same university as you?” He froze. “Because I tutored you?” “Because I vouched for you to the teachers?” “Or because I used to love you?” His entire face went rigid. As I spoke those last words, I felt something that had been built over ten long years finally shatter into pieces. Someone called Ethan’s name from the end of the hallway—it sounded like one of his friends from the other class. Chloe pushed past me, grabbing Ethan’s hand. “Ethan, leave her. Let’s go.” Ethan stood frozen, letting her pull him back a step, his eyes still glued to me. Seeing his hesitation, Chloe decided to twist the knife. “Oh, by the way, her mom just posted a screenshot in the community group chat, asking what those photos were about.” “Want to see? Her mom seems pretty furious.” She held up her phone, showing a Snapchat chat window with my mother’s username. My mom had forwarded the photo Chloe leaked, followed by three question marks. Below it was our home address pinned on the map. My blood ran cold instantly. “You promised you wouldn’t send it to my mom,” I whispered, my voice trembling. Chloe shrugged. “I didn’t send it to her. She saw it in the public group chat herself.” “My mom was the one who posted it there, and I couldn’t stop her.” “Not my fault.” I looked at her face. The left side of her cheek was swollen, but her lips were curled into a smug, victorious grin. She was thoroughly enjoying my terror. It was all just a show to her. Ethan stood right next to her, completely silent. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I turned and walked away. One step at a time, I headed down the concrete stairs. This was the hallway I had walked for three years, yet it had never felt this long. Behind me, Ethan’s voice boomed. “April!” I didn’t stop. Heavy, panicked footsteps chased after me. “Stop right there!” A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind, yanking me backward. I lost my balance. My foot slipped off the edge of the step. The sharp edge of the concrete step slammed hard into my shin bone. An agonizing pain shot up my leg. I let out a choked gasp as my body fell backward. Ethan’s grip on my shoulder vanished. I didn’t know if he had let go out of shock, or if I had simply slipped out of his grasp. All I knew was that I was falling. My head slammed violently against the concrete step with a sickening thud. Then my shoulders, my back, and my hips battered against the stairs, step by step. My body rolled down like a heavy sack of sand, completely out of control. Finally, I came to a stop on the landing of the first floor. The world went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, the screaming started. Someone upstairs screamed at the top of their lungs, “Oh my god! She fell down the stairs!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442737”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The last time I called Mom, I had not eaten anything for seven days. When I was five, Mom and Dad adopted a girl from a remote fishing village. From that day on, she slept in my room, wore my dresses, and called my mom and dad hers. And I was sent back to the fishing village where she had grown up. I lived with her grandmother, who had Alzheimer’s. Mom said: “She suffered too much growing up.” “You’ve never suffered before, so you should get a taste of it too.” Before I left, Dad ordered me to take good care of the confused grandmother and watch the house and yard. After Grandma threw my food to the dog again, I finally could not take it anymore and called Mom to ask for something to eat. She was terribly annoyed. “How come Clara can endure hardship, but you can’t?” “The sea is all around you, so if you’re hungry, go catch fish in the water!” I obediently listened and went into the sea to catch fish. But while I was swimming in the sea to catch fish, a fisherman mistook me for a big fish and speared me to death. It was not until three years later that Mom came to pick me up. “Anna, I’m here to take you home.”

There was a pile of bones in the center of the room, and a rusty fishing spear lay on top of it. She kicked it without the slightest concern. The window glass was shattered, and the sea wind poured in. The excrement of the grandmother with Alzheimer’s was everywhere. Grandma was curled up in a pile of tattered bedding, dazed, drool constantly running from her mouth. Mom, Sophia, frowned, covered her nose, waved at the foul smell in the air, and could not help complaining: “Why is this place like a dump? Don’t you know how to clean?” “Anna! Get out here and clean this up!” Sophia looked around, and her voice calling my name grew louder and louder. I happily threw myself at her, but I hugged nothing, passing through her body like air. I forgot again. I had died three years ago. After hoping and waiting so long, I had finally waited until Mom came back. She was carrying cookies and cake, and I was so greedy that I almost drooled. I felt happy inside, thinking Mom still had me in her heart, and she had finally come to take me home. I jumped around beside her happily: “Mom, I’m here, I’m right here.” Her phone rang, and unable to stand the stench in the house, she went outside to answer it. I immediately followed her. “Baby, be good. Mom will be back soon. I’m picking up your sister.” “Mom bought you your favorite cookies and cake, all the things you love.” “Okay, okay, I’ll be back in a little while, and tonight Mom will hold you while you sleep.” I froze, and my excited heart instantly turned icy cold, as if a basin of cold water had been poured over it. So those cookies and cakes were bought for my younger sister. I waved my arms in grievance and roared at her: “I’m your biological daughter, so why don’t you love me?” “I was clearly more obedient than my adopted sister, so if you didn’t like me, why did you give birth to me?” She could not hear anything and turned back into the house with a disgusted look on her face. “Mom! Where is Anna? What’s going on? I’ve been calling for so long, and there’s no response!” Her tone began to grow impatient, and she raised her hand to check the expensive watch on her wrist, clearly anxious to hurry back. I squatted on the ground, like the year I had almost starved to death, too powerless to hate. For someone who does not love you, even overwhelming love is like punching cotton. So my adopted sister was already this old, and Mom would still hold her while she slept. But when I was five, after they adopted my sister and brought her home, I was sent to the fishing village and made to sleep with the grandmother who had Alzheimer’s. When Grandma’s illness acted up, she was like a violent thug and would beat me until I was covered in bruises. I cried so hard that snot bubbled from my nose as I clung to Sophia’s leg and begged bitterly: “Mom, please, take me home. I don’t want to stay here.” She frowned, her whole face saying I was being spoiled: “You’re the older sister, so you need to be sensible. Your sister just came to our home, and everything is unfamiliar to her, so she needs more care.” “Don’t be naughty and provoke Grandma, and she won’t hit you. Clara’s grandmother is sick, and Clara endured it all, so you can too.” She always said I could do it too, so I had to shoulder so many things that a child my age should never have had to bear. From then on, I never knew again what Mom’s bed or Mom’s embrace smelled like. “Anna, Anna catching bugs, a whole bunch, dead child…” Grandma was not clear-headed, and she could not recognize my mom as she slowly muttered to herself. My mom stopped looking for me and stared at the ruined house in disgust, nagging: “She’s still as naughty as she was when she was little! Not quiet and graceful like Clara at all.” “What kind of girl catches bugs? She made the room dirtier than a doghouse.” “She’s such a big girl now, but she has no sense of hygiene at all!” “And she’s always trying to come home with me. With how sloppy she is, she really has been spoiled rotten by me…” She let out a heavy sigh. It was full of disappointment in me. My heart felt as if a hole had been torn through it, and the pain made even my soul tremble. But Mom, I caught bugs because there was nothing to eat at home. Grandma and I were so hungry that we were weak, and we really could not get any thinner, so I caught bugs. I was so scared that I wailed, but I still did not dare let go. To fight birds for bugs, I climbed very high up trees and often fell down. Even if I managed to catch a bug and roast it, I could not bear to eat it myself. Instead, I saved it for Grandma, and only after Grandma was full could I eat. But Grandma was never full, and she even got so hungry that she bit a chunk of flesh from my leg. Even after becoming a ghost, the spot where that piece of flesh was bitten away from my leg was still hollow. Many families in the fishing village had moved away, and now only Grandma remained in this broken-down house. After I went into the sea to catch fish and was speared to death by a fisherman, the former village chief thought my parents had picked me up. Seeing how pitiful Grandma was, he would deliver food every week, and sometimes once every two weeks. That was how Grandma survived.

Sophia could not bear the foul smell and retched in nausea for a while. She really could not stay any longer, so she hurriedly opened her exquisite Louis Vuitton bag, took out five hundred dollars, and placed it on the trash-covered table. There was a plate of fat dead bugs on the table, already covered in mold and giving off waves of stench. Sophia ran outside in disgust and threw up for a long time. “Anna, dead child, dead child, give me bugs… big fat bugs…” Grandma chased after her, barefoot, hunched over, dirty and disheveled, like a madwoman. Before she even got close, that thick stench filled the air. My mom reached out to stop her. “Don’t come over here. You stink!” “I put five hundred dollars in living expenses on the table for you and Anna, so tell her to spend it carefully.” “I’ll come see her again next time.” My soul followed them outside too, numb as I watched her disgusted expression. Just as she was about to hurry away, a video call came to her phone, and the contact name was Husband. “I didn’t see Anna. She seems to have gone out to catch bugs. She’s so old, yet still so naughty.” Sophia’s tone was full of disgust as she summarized what she had seen in a few words. I leaned closer and saw Dad in the video. His hair was slicked back and shiny, he wore an expensive suit, and his skin looked good. His whole body gave off the rich air of someone raised by money. The house behind him was bright and exquisitely decorated. My heart felt sour, because this good life had once belonged to me. It was just that after they adopted my sister, Mom and Dad felt that ordinary me was too spoiled, so they sent me here to receive hardship education. I did not dare call them often, afraid they would think I was delicate, and the only time I called was seven days before I starved to death. Maybe after suffering too much pain, nothing could stir up much emotion anymore. I just stood numbly beside Sophia. “Honey, I thought about it, and shouldn’t we bring Anna to the city now?” “Anna is eight, and it’s inconvenient for her to go to school there.” My shattered heart was instantly stitched together a little, and tears of surprise filled my eyes. Mom did not love me, but Dad still cared about me. I stared at Dad and smiled. Even though he could not see me. Sophia let out a deep sigh, and her tone was disappointed, disgusted, and hopeless. She covered her nose and walked into the house, aiming the camera inside: “Look, Anna made the house look like a dump.” “I want to take her back too, but look at how filthy she is. How can we take her?” I felt extremely wronged and said dully: “I’m not filthy.” What could a five-year-old child do? I had been dead for three years, and you still did not know. “Let me see my sister’s house, let me see!” A lively and cheerful voice came through, and a seven-year-old girl with two pretty braids appeared in the video. She was my adopted sister, Clara. She had been raised very well, wearing a beautiful princess dress, her skin tender like a peeled egg. She was confident and lively, like a little princess from a wealthy family. Her smile disappeared when she saw the ruined house in the video, and her disgusted expression was exactly like Sophia’s. “It’s so dirty. Even a dump isn’t this dirty.” “I won’t let her come to our house. Someone this unhygienic will definitely bring lots of germs!” But the fishing village I was in had clearly been her former home. Ethan quickly pulled Clara into his arms and coaxed her: “Okay, okay, we’ll listen to our little princess and not bring your sister here yet.” “We’ll have your sister fix all her hygiene habits, and after she becomes a clean little kid, we’ll bring her here, okay?” Clara pouted proudly and pulled Ethan’s hand to the side: “Let her see my room. When she makes her room as pretty and clean as mine, then you can bring her here.” With a great sense of superiority, Clara showed every corner of her room to the camera. “Mom, let her see what a girl’s room should look like.” “I don’t want a sister who lives in a trash heap.” I stared without blinking at Clara’s room, because it had once been my bedroom. The room was decorated cutely and brightly, and a cabinet of toys and figurines was arranged neatly inside. Her room was very big, connected to a transparent walk-in closet. All kinds of dazzling clothes hung inside. Even the carpet in the room was snowy white and fluffy, like walking on clouds. I just watched, my mind completely blank. My heart, riddled with wounds, could not muster even the slightest strength to hate or resent.

“Your sister is only like this because she’s in the fishing village. Once she comes to the city, she won’t be like this anymore.” “When your sister comes, there’ll be one more person to play with you and one more person to take care of you. Wouldn’t that be great?” Ethan’s words coaxing Clara stabbed into my heart like knives. I hated that sentence with everything I had: you’re the older sister, and you enjoyed good days for many years, so you should give way to your adopted sister and let your adopted sister live a good life. After the video call ended, my mom took a pen and paper from her bag. She wrote a few lines on it: “Anna, Mom will go back for now this time.” “You made the house far too dirty and messy, so Mom will give you one month to clean both the house and yourself.” “One month later, Mom will come to inspect it, and if the hygiene is up to standard, Mom will take you home.” “If it isn’t up to standard, you’ll stay here and continue reforming yourself.” After writing it, she looked at the house not far away and hesitated, then stuffed the note into Grandma’s drafty pocket: “This note is for Anna, so you must make sure she sees it.” “I’ll go back for now this time, and tell Anna I’ll come again in one month.” After saying that, she hurried away without looking back. I watched her back, smiling until I started crying. Grandma stared dazedly at her back for a long time. “Grandma, go back inside. Don’t stay out here in the sun.” The scorching sun made sweat pour from her head, but she stared blankly and did not know to wipe it away. Maybe she was also just lucky, because after getting heatstroke several times, she had managed to survive. “Anna… Anna, catching bugs, playing, dead child, sea, fish.” She began talking nonsense again. I watched helplessly as she was left to fend for herself, just like I had once been. Even though she was not my biological grandmother, I still did not want to watch her fend for herself the way I once had. But I was powerless. I ran into the house and anxiously reached out to clean the room. But my hands could not pick up anything, and I stomped my feet and cried in panic. “I can’t help you anymore. What do I do? What do I do?” But she cheerfully picked up the maggot-infested food from the table and began eating. I cried even louder at the top of my lungs, trying to make her hear my voice. But everything was in vain. One month later, Sophia and Ethan came back together. This time, their hands were empty. I pouted and complained, “What are you coming back for? Only Clara is your precious baby, so don’t come back here and disgust me.” They could not hear anything, but I heard plenty of them complaining that I was sloppy and disobedient. It just so happened that the village chief came to deliver food to Grandma. He knew Grandma could not cook, so he only brought food enough for one day, with meat and vegetables, and the meat was stewed very soft so Grandma could chew it. The rest was water, bread, and other instant food. When the village chief saw my dad, he asked curiously: “Is the Clara you adopted never coming back? Then are you responsible for taking care of her grandmother?” My mom said, “Anna is still here, so we sent her here to train herself a little.” The confusion on the village chief’s face grew deeper. Sophia looked at the room that had not been cleaned at all, covered her nose, and said in disgust again: “Why does this child Anna never change no matter how many times she’s taught? I told her to clean the place up, and then I’d come get her!” “She actually didn’t clean up at all! This child really can make a person furious!” Ethan could not help feeling nauseated either, but in front of others, he held it back. The village chief looked suspicious. “Wasn’t Anna taken to the city by you a few years ago?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442729”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I had been with Ethan for three years, and he had one unbreakable habit. Every night at ten-thirty, he would send me a sixty-second voice memo. It was always him reading romantic poems or classic prose. I treasured those voice memos like they were priceless gold. I saved every single one in a Snapchat folder named “Ethan’s Lullabies.” I really thought it was his own special, romantic way of loving me. Until I was planning our wedding, and I found a private podcast on my best friend Chloe’s iPad. There were over seven hundred audio files in there. The poems, the tone, even the tiny rustle of pages turning in the background—they were identical to the ones in my folder. The only difference was the timestamp. She received them an hour and a half earlier than I did every single night. As it turned out, the exclusive romance I treasured was just a second-hand forward, sent to me after he was done comforting someone else. I stared at the playlist of that private podcast on the iPad screen, my fingers shaking uncontrollably. “My sweet Chloe, here’s a little Shakespeare for you tonight. Sleep tight, beautiful.” Ethan’s deep, velvety voice came through the headphones, carrying a hint of lazy tenderness. In the background, there was a faint, distinct click of a Zippo lighter. I knew that sound too well. Because on my phone, inside the “Ethan’s Lullabies” folder, there was a voice memo that sounded exactly like this. Even the lighter clicked at the exact same second. My hands trembled as I clicked on the upload history. Seven hundred and thirty audio files. Every single one was uploaded at 9:00 PM. And I always received Ethan’s voice memos at 10:30 PM. For three years, over a thousand days and nights. He had been recording these sweet lullabies for Chloe at nine, and then, like checking off a chore on his to-do list, he forwarded the exact same audio file to me ninety minutes later. The deep love I thought we had, the special ritual I thought was ours alone… was just a massive, pathetic lie. A wave of intense nausea hit my stomach. I ripped the headphones off and gasped for air. Chloe’s iPad screen was still glowing. She had lent it to me half an hour ago to pick some background music for my wedding. She probably forgot to log out of her private account. Or maybe, she did it on purpose. The front door lock beeped. Ethan walked in, bringing the chilly autumn breeze with him. He was holding a beautiful, vintage paper shopping bag. Seeing me on the couch, he immediately offered a warm smile. “Freya, look what I got for you.” He took off his shoes, walked over, and handed me the bag. “That limited-edition vintage Leica camera you mentioned once? I pulled a lot of strings to get it from a collector in Japan. A pre-wedding gift for my beautiful bride.” Ethan’s eyes sparkled with a desperate desire to please me. He leaned in, trying to kiss my cheek out of habit. I instinctively leaned back, avoiding his touch. There was a faint scent of woody rose perfume on him. It was Chloe’s favorite brand—a niche, strong fragrance that lingered for hours. Ethan froze mid-air, a flash of confusion crossing his eyes, but he quickly recovered. “What’s wrong? Stressing out over the wedding plans?” He gently stroked my hair. I didn’t say a word. My eyes fell on the Leica camera. On its brass edge, there was a tiny, sharp scratch, like it had been scraped by a manicured nail. Just ten minutes ago, Chloe had posted a picture on her close friends’ Instagram story. It was the exact same Leica camera, with the exact same scratch on the corner. Her caption read: [A priceless vintage piece to others, but to me, just a little token of his everyday indulgence.] Looking at that scratch made my eyes sting like crazy. “Where did you get this camera?” My voice was flat, like a dead pool of water. Ethan walked over to the kitchen island and poured himself a glass of water, completely unfazed. “A friend shipped it to my office. I just grabbed it on my way home. Do you like it?” He didn’t even bother to make up a decent lie. Watching him drink water, I suddenly felt that this man, whom I had loved for three years, was a complete stranger. Right then, Ethan’s phone on the counter lit up. Caller ID: Chloe. Without hesitation, he picked up the call right in front of me and even put it on speaker. “Ethan…” Chloe’s voice came through, filled with tears and panic. “The pipe under my sink just burst! There’s water everywhere, and the landlord isn’t picking up. I’m so scared. Can you please come over?” Ethan’s brows knitted instantly. He checked the wall clock. “Don’t panic. Shut off the main water valve first, go stand somewhere dry, and wait for me. I’m on my way.” He hung up, turned to me, and spoke in a tone that left no room for argument. “Freya, Chloe has an emergency. Her pipes burst, and she can’t handle it alone. I’ll go help her out real quick and come right back.” I leaned back on the couch, looking at him coldly. “If her pipes burst, she should call a plumber, her landlord, or emergency maintenance. Are you a licensed plumber now, Ethan?” Ethan froze. For the past three years, I had never spoken to him in such a sharp tone. I had always been the sweet, understanding fiancée. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice dropping into an impatient, patronizing sigh. “Freya, stop being difficult. Chloe is your best friend. She’s all alone in this city. What’s wrong with me helping her out when she’s in trouble? Since when did you become so heartless?” As he spoke, he pulled a velvet Bvlgari box from his pocket and placed it in front of me. “I bought you this necklace on my way home. Be good, wait for me. I’ll come back to keep you company as soon as I fix this.” With that, he grabbed his car keys and walked out without looking back. As the front door slammed shut, the entire apartment fell into a dead silence. I looked at the Bvlgari box, then at the second-hand Leica camera, and suddenly let out a laugh. Tears streamed down my face, burning hot against my skin. I didn’t touch the jewelry box. Instead, I grabbed my phone and dialed the HR director at our Milan headquarters. A month ago, the company had offered me a promotion to be the Design Director for the Milan region. I had turned it down without a second thought because of my wedding with Ethan. “Hi Lisa, sorry for calling so late. Is that Director position in Milan still open?” There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by an excited voice. “Of course it is! Freya, did you change your mind?” “Yes. I accept the relocation. The sooner I can start, the better.” After hanging up, I went into my study. I took all the audio files from Chloe’s private podcast and the screenshot of her Instagram story, and backed them all up into an encrypted cloud drive. At 10:30 PM. My phone buzzed right on time. Ethan had sent a sixty-second voice memo. I clicked it. It was him reading Shakespeare. In the background, the sharp click of the lighter sounded louder than ever. And ninety minutes ago, this exact audio had already been safely uploaded to Chloe’s private podcast.

The next afternoon was our scheduled wedding dress fitting. Ethan showed up on time at the luxury bridal boutique, and to absolutely no one’s surprise, Chloe was standing right next to him. Chloe was wearing a chic Chanel-style tweed set, her makeup flawless. She showed absolutely no signs of the “water pipe trauma” from last night. “Freya, thank God Ethan came over last night, or my apartment would have been a swimming pool. I came today to help you pick your wedding gown to make it up to you!” Chloe reached out to grab my arm affectionately, but I took a step back, dodging her touch smoothly. She didn’t even look embarrassed. Instead, her eyes started wandering over the expensive custom gowns in the boutique. The designer walked over with a warm smile, bringing down the custom gown I had ordered six months ago. “Miss Miller, your wedding gown is ready for the final waist adjustments. You can try it on in the fitting room first.” Just as I was about to take the gown, Chloe let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh my gosh! This velvet cape is absolutely gorgeous!” She pointed to a dark emerald velvet cape on a nearby mannequin, embroidered with intricate gold threads. It was breathtakingly luxurious. “That’s Miss Miller’s custom-ordered cape. The gold embroidery is entirely hand-stitched. It took our artisans three months to finish,” the designer introduced proudly. Chloe bit her lower lip, her eyes filled with envy and a sudden, forced sadness. “It’s so beautiful… I guess girls like me will never get to wear something this perfect in our entire lives.” Seeing this, Ethan immediately turned to me and said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “Freya, that cape looks pretty loose anyway. Since Chloe loves it so much, why don’t you let her try it on first? You two are about the same size.” The designer’s smile froze, and she looked at me awkwardly. I stopped in my tracks and stared coldly at Ethan. “This is my custom couture. I don’t share things that touch my skin.” Ethan’s brows furrowed instantly, clearly feeling like I had embarrassed him in front of others. “It’s just trying it on, it’s not going to ruin it. Since when did you become so petty? Chloe just wants to see how it looks. Can’t you just do this small favor for your best friend?” Chloe quickly waved her hands, her eyes turning red as she played the victim. “It’s fine, Ethan. Freya doesn’t like people touching her things. I won’t try it. I don’t want to make her mad.” The more she played the victim, the more Ethan thought I was being unreasonable. He walked right past me and ordered the designer, “Take that cape down and let her try it on.” The designer had no choice but to carefully remove the cape and drape it over Chloe’s shoulders. Chloe walked to the full-length mirror, turning left and right. Her eyes were filled with the smug satisfaction of winning. Ethan stood behind her, watching her reflection. His gaze was deep, and his throat bobbed slightly. He had completely forgotten that today was supposed to be his fiancée’s fitting day. Right then, Chloe reached out to touch the gold embroidery on the cape. “Oh!” With a sharp gasp, there was a sickening rip. The massive, cluster-diamond ring on Chloe’s ring finger had snagged hard on the gold threads of the cape. She had pulled too quickly, ripping a long tear right through the custom embroidery. The expensive velvet fabric was ruined. “Oh my goodness!” The designer gasped in horror. Ethan’s first reaction wasn’t to look at the six-figure custom cape. Instead, he grabbed Chloe’s hand frantically. “Did you hurt your hand? Did the ring scratch your finger?” Chloe shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she looked at me in terror. “Freya, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to. I didn’t know my ring would snag… How much is the cape? I’ll pay you back!” Ethan immediately shielded her behind his back, like a knight protecting his princess. “Pay for what? It’s just a piece of clothing. Freya won’t hold this against you.” He turned to me, his tone commanding and dismissive. “Since this one is ruined, just throw it away. Go pick a more expensive one, and I’ll pay for it.” With that, he pulled out his phone and Venmoed me fifteen thousand dollars. The notification chimed loudly in the quiet boutique, sounding incredibly mocking. I looked down at the transaction on my screen, finding the whole situation absolutely ridiculous. Three months of artisan handwork, my months of excitement… to him, it was just trash that could be replaced with a quick Venmo transfer. “No need. This one is fine.” Without even entering the fitting room, I turned around and walked out the door. “Freya! What kind of tantrum are you throwing now? I said I’d buy you a new one! When are you going to stop being so dramatic?” Ethan yelled from behind. I ignored him, pushed open the door, and walked out. Standing in the cold autumn wind, I pulled out my phone and called my sales rep at the Porsche dealership. “Hey Marcus, that Macan I ordered… if I transfer the lease to someone else right now, can we close the deal today? Yes, original price. I’ll pay the transfer fees. Just make it quick.” I hung up and glanced back at the boutique’s glass window. Ethan was holding a tissue, gently wiping away Chloe’s tears. I let out a cold laugh, hailed a cab, and drove away.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442730”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband, Julian Vance, spent forty million dollars at a charity gala to buy back my late mother’s diamond necklace. But the moment he secured it, he turned around and gently fastened it around the neck of his first love, Blair Sterling. He even took the elite medical team reserved for my life-saving treatment and handed them over to her—just because she had slightly sprained her ankle. He looked at me and said, “Sera, you’ve always been the strong, rational one. Blair is terrified of pain. Don’t pick a fight with her over this.” Clutching my terminal cancer diagnosis in my cold hand, I felt an exhausting, bone-deep weariness wash over me. My time was running out. I wouldn’t fight her for him anymore. The lights of the grand ballroom were blindingly bright. I sat in the audience, my fingers ice-cold as I tightly gripped the thin piece of paper in my purse—a diagnosis of late-stage glioblastoma. On stage, the auctioneer slammed his gavel down with ecstatic energy. “Forty million! Congratulations to Mr. Vance for winning this stunning diamond necklace, ‘The First Snow’!” The room erupted into thunderous applause. Every eye in the house turned toward the front row, admiring the tall, devastatingly handsome man in a tailored tuxedo. Julian Vance. My husband. My love of ten years, and my partner in a seven-year marriage. That necklace was my late mother’s most treasured possession. I had been forced to pawn it three years ago when my family’s business collapsed. Julian had promised me that tonight, he would bring it back home. He said it would be our seventh-anniversary gift. I watched him stand up and accept the velvet box from the stage hostess. A fragile, hopeful smile began to form on my lips, and I prepared to stand and greet him. But Julian didn’t walk toward me. He turned, walked straight past my row, and went to the other side of the room where Blair Sterling sat, her eyes red and watery. Under the stunned gaze of the entire high-society crowd, Julian personally draped the necklace—the one carrying all my memories of my mother—around Blair’s neck. “You had a scare today, Blair. Consider this a little gift to soothe your nerves.” His voice, transmitted through the microphone, was deep, gentle, and echoed clearly throughout the massive hall. Blair covered her mouth, tears trembling on her eyelashes as she leaned delicately into his chest. “Julian, this is too expensive… Won’t Sera be angry?” “She won’t.” Julian didn’t even glance back at me. His voice was dismissive, utterly cold. “It’s just a necklace. She’s not that petty.” I sat frozen in my seat. Around me, the whispers of the guests began to pierce my ears like poisoned needles. “Oh my god, the poor Mrs. Vance. Her husband just gifted a priceless heirloom to his ex right in front of her.” “Everyone knows Julian only has eyes for Blair. Seraphina is just a placeholder.” Suddenly, a sharp, blinding pain stabbed through my brain, as if a chainsaw were ripping through my nerves. I gasped and quickly covered my nose. A warm, thick liquid flowed out without warning. Blood. It dripped rapidly through my fingers, staining my custom white gown. It was a horrifying contrast. I didn’t make a sound. Trembling, I pulled a handful of tissues from my clutch, pressed them hard against my face, and stumbled out of the hall through the back exit under the mocking stares of the crowd. Outside, the freezing winter wind slapped my face like a whip. I looked back through the glass doors at the glittering hall. Julian was leaning down, tenderly adjusting a wrap over Blair’s shoulders, treating her like fragile porcelain. “Julian,” I whispered his name, my mouth filling with the bitter, metallic taste of blood. Seraphina. My name meant burning fire, but my life had already burned down to the very end. I was about to become nothing but ash. And he was still spending his millions to keep someone else warm.

When I returned to the cold, echoing mansion we called “home,” I didn’t turn on the lights. I groped my way into the bathroom in the dark. Looking in the mirror, I saw a pale, ghostly face. The nosebleed had stopped, but the dull, pounding pain in my head remained. My doctor’s words echoed in my ears: “Sera, the tumor is pressing against your optic nerve and memory center. You will gradually lose your sight, then your memories, and finally, brain death. At most, you have three months.” Three months. I splashed cold water on my face, pulled the wrinkled diagnosis sheet out of my bag, and was about to lay it on the coffee table when the front door was thrown open. Julian walked in, bringing the chill of the night with him. “Why are the lights off?” He flipped the switch, and the sudden glare made me wince and close my eyes. He marched over to me, his brow furrowed in deep irritation. “Sera, what was that stunt at the gala? Leaving early without saying a word? Are you throwing a tantrum to embarrass me?” I opened my eyes and looked at this man. The man I had loved for a decade. “That necklace belonged to my mother,” I said, my voice so hoarse and cracked that it sounded foreign to my own ears. Julian’s hand paused on his tie. Then, he let out a cold scoff. “It’s just a piece of jewelry, Sera. Blair was tripped by some loose cables backstage and got badly shaken up. What’s wrong with me giving her something to calm her down?” “As my wife, do you really lack this much basic compassion?” “Shaken up?” I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that made my stomach churn with nausea. “She gets a little scared, so she gets my mother’s final heirloom to feel better? Julian, do you even have a heart?” “Enough!” Julian slammed his tie onto the sofa, his eyes flashing icy anger. “Don’t start with your dramatic accusations, Sera. Blair has been physically weak since she was a child. You have everything in the world. Why do you always have to fight her for every little thing?” I had everything? I stared at him, finding his words incredibly absurd. My parents were dead. My family was bankrupt. I had worked myself to the bone helping him build his empire from scratch, destroying my own health in the process. Now, all I had left was a terminal brain cancer diagnosis. And he had the nerve to say I had everything. “Julian, what if I told you I was dying?” I asked, looking straight into his eyes. Julian froze for a fraction of a second. Then, a look of profound disgust swept across his face. “Sera, are you seriously using a fake illness now just because you’re jealous? Your annual health reports are sent directly to my office by my assistant. Aside from some mild anemia, you’re perfectly fine!” “Stop acting. I’m exhausted.” Without even looking at the paper crumpled in my hand, he turned and stormed upstairs, slamming the guest room door shut behind him. I stood alone in the empty, silent living room. My hands and feet felt completely numb. Of course he didn’t know. He never had the time to go to the hospital with me. The assistant he sent to manage my medical records had been bought off by Blair months ago. I slowly opened my fist. The crumpled diagnosis paper was stained with my blood. I walked over to the trash can, opened my hand, and let it go. The paper fluttered down, disappearing into the trash. Since he didn’t want to believe me, there was no point in saying another word.

The next morning, I woke up to a violent wave of nausea. I collapsed over the toilet, throwing up sour fluid mixed with streaks of blood. When I finally stood up, my vision blurred into a gray haze for a terrifying few seconds. I knew my time was slipping away faster than expected. I forced myself to clean up and went downstairs. Julian was sitting at the dining table, sipping his coffee. Seeing me, he actually spoke first—a rare occurrence lately. “This afternoon, I need you to sign over your shares in the Southside Heights Redevelopment Project.” My footsteps halted. I stared at him in disbelief. The Southside Heights project was my blood, sweat, and tears for the past three years. It was my ultimate professional achievement, built on sleepless nights. “Why?” I managed to ask. Julian set his coffee cup down, his tone entirely casual. “Blair wants to learn how to manage a business. She doesn’t have any experience, and the Southside project is already running smoothly. It’s the perfect training ground for her.” “To compensate you, I’ll have fifty million dollars wired to your personal account.” He wanted to hand over my life’s work to his darling Blair as a plaything? I walked over, leaning my hands on the table, staring intensely into his handsome face. “Julian, do you think my life and my hard work exist solely to pave the road for Blair Sterling?” Julian’s brow snapped together. My resistance clearly annoyed him. “Sera, be realistic. Blair is all alone in this city with no family to support her. As her older brother figure, it’s my duty to look after her. You’re already Mrs. Vance. You have everything you could ever want. Why are you greedily hoarding a single project?” “Older brother figure?” I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “What kind of ‘brother’ gifts a forty-million-dollar romantic necklace to his ‘sister’ at a public gala? What kind of ‘brother’ robs his own wife to give to another woman?” “Bam!” Julian slammed his hand on the table and stood up, his expression dark and menacing. “Sera, don’t push your luck! You will sign those shares over whether you like it or not! You don’t call the shots in this family!” He grabbed his suit jacket, turned on his heel, and slammed the front door as he stormed out. The deafening sound vibrated through my ears, and a sharp, agonizing pain erupted in my brain. I collapsed onto the floor, cold sweat instantly soaking through my shirt. My vision plunged into pitch darkness. This time, the darkness lasted for ten agonizing minutes. When light finally crawled back into my eyes, I looked around the massive, empty mansion and let out a soft, hollow laugh. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Julian, you want to give her everything, don’t you? You want to strip me bare for her?” “Fine. I’ll let you.” I pulled out my phone and dialed my lawyer. “Arthur, prepare a divorce agreement for me. Also, liquidate all the assets under my personal name. Sell them immediately, even if it’s below market value.” “Yes. As fast as possible.”

Over the next few days, I moved like a ghost through the city, wrapping up my affairs. I sold my properties, my car, and even the expensive jewelry Julian had gifted me over the years. With the proceeds, I established a trust fund for blind children. Since my own eyes were failing, I wanted to help others see the beauty of the world I was leaving behind. On the fourth afternoon, I walked out of the private clinic after my final session of palliative chemotherapy. I was so weak that my legs trembled with every step. Just as I reached the pavement, a bright red sports car screeched to a halt right in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Blair. She wore oversized designer sunglasses, a sweet but venomous smirk plastered on her face. “Sera! What a coincidence. Are you here for a checkup?” She scanned my pale, skinny frame with smug satisfaction. “Julian told me you’ve been throwing a tantrum lately and told me to ignore you. But I’m just too soft-hearted. I felt bad for you, so I wanted to deliver some news in person.” She took off her sunglasses, grabbed a document from the passenger seat, and tossed it out the window. It fluttered down, landing right at my feet. “The Southside Heights project is officially under my name now.” I stared down at the paper bearing Julian’s personal signature seal. My heart didn’t even ache. It was completely numb. “Blair, does taking my leftovers really bring you this much joy?” I asked quietly. Blair’s smile stiffened for a second, then her smirk widened. “Sera, keep playing tough. Julian’s heart is with me. Your money, your project, your necklace—they are all mine now. All it takes is one tear from me, and he will crush you under his shoe.” “Don’t believe me? Watch. If I call him right now and say I’m feeling dizzy, he will abandon his multi-billion-dollar board meeting and run to my side instantly.” She pulled out her phone, dialed Julian’s number, and switched to speakerphone. “Julian…” her voice instantly transformed into a fragile, breathless whimper. “I’m outside the municipal hospital… I suddenly feel so dizzy, and my chest hurts…” On the other end of the line, Julian’s voice was instantly frantic. In the background, I could hear his executives whispering during a presentation. “Blair? What’s wrong? Don’t panic, I’m on my way! Stay right there!” The call disconnected. Blair looked at me triumphantly. “See? That is exactly how much you matter to him.” I looked at her face, warped by greed and malice, and felt nothing but pity. I didn’t answer her. I turned to hail a cab. But before I could open the passenger door, loud, frantic footsteps echoed behind me. “Sera! What did you do to her?!” I turned around. Julian had arrived in record time. He wasn’t even wearing his suit jacket, his tie was loose, and sweat dripped down his forehead as he rushed over and shielded Blair behind him. He glared at me with pure rage, as if I were a monster. “Blair only came here for a routine checkup! Why did you push her?!” I froze. “Push her?” I looked at Blair standing perfectly fine behind him, clutching her chest with tears streaming down her face. “Julian, please don’t blame Sera… I just lost my balance… She’s just angry with me, so she barely touched me…” Her acting was truly Oscar-worthy. “Julian, with which eye did you see me push her?” I asked coldly. “If you didn’t push her, why is she having chest pains? Sera, your jealousy has turned you into an unrecognizable, bitter hag!” Julian roared. Another wave of agony hit my head. The world spun, and I had to grip the car door tightly to keep from collapsing. “Believe whatever you want.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. I bent down and climbed into the cab. “Driver, please go.” As the taxi pulled away, I looked in the rearview mirror. Julian was lifting Blair into his arms, carrying her frantically toward the emergency room. He didn’t even notice the small pool of fresh blood left on the concrete where I had been standing.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442731”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The ultimate penalty of the escape room was a mystery box filled with live, crawling roaches. Charlotte, my so-called best friend, shrieked and recoiled in disgust. But as she backed away, she instantly grabbed the hand of Brandon—my boyfriend of five years. She looked at me. “Chloe, you do it. Come on, this is the perfect chance to cure your phobia.” Brandon chimed in, squeezing her hand. “Charlotte’s right, Chloe. You have a panic attack every time you touch something dirty. You need to get over this.” The coworkers around us started chanting. “We all did our parts! Your group is the last one!” Brandon walked over and forced his hand over mine, locking my wrist. “Look at me. Just look at me.” The three of us had been friends for over a decade. They knew damn well this would nearly kill me. I have severe OCD. Mysophobia, to be exact. Since we were kids, Charlotte had been pulling these stunts under the guise of “curing me.” She’d stuff dead bugs into my backpack, or mix spoiled food into my lunch. And Brandon would always back her up, telling me she only had my best interests at heart. But every time I forgave them, it only paved the way for their next, even more ruthless prank. My stomach was churning, acid rising in my throat. But looking at them now, the roaches didn’t even seem like the dirtiest things in this room anymore. Brandon’s grip on my wrist was like iron. Even though my face was paper-white and cold sweat was pouring down my neck, he wouldn’t let go. The moment he finally loosened his grip, I yanked my hand back with everything I had. “See? I told you it wasn’t that hard,” Charlotte clapped, giggling. Brandon smiled, nodding. “Exactly. Overcoming a phobia only takes a second of bravery.” As they both reached out to pat me, I took a massive step back. “Don’t touch me. You’re dirty.”

The entire room went dead silent. Charlotte and Brandon’s hands froze mid-air. A coworker whispered in the back, “What did Chloe just say?” No one answered. Charlotte was the first to break the awkward silence, forcing a laugh to smooth things over. “She’s just startled. It’s fine, guys, don’t take her seriously.” She turned to me, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Chloe, your hands are shaking so bad. Brandon, babe, rub her back. Comfort her a little.” I didn’t look at her. I only stared at Brandon’s hand. That hand had just been squeezing my wrist, his thumb pressing against the inside of my pulse point. That was our secret signal, one we had used for five years. It meant, “Don’t worry, I’m here.” But the very next second, he had let go. All because Charlotte had looked over. I turned on my heel and headed for the exit. “I’m leaving.” No one ran after me. I stood in the dim corridor outside the escape room for a long time. It wasn’t until the game officially ended that the heavy doors finally pushed open again. Charlotte was clinging to Brandon’s arm, laughing and joking with the rest of the team. She spotted me immediately, her grin widening. “Look at her, Brandon. She touches one little dirty thing and goes completely mute. She actually walked out by herself.” The smile on Brandon’s face faded slightly. He walked over and stood beside me. “Are you mad?” “No.” “Then let’s go. I’ll drive you guys home.” When we reached his car, Charlotte naturally opened the passenger door and slid right in. She did it so casually, as if that seat belonged to her. I pulled open the back door, just like I always did. As Brandon started the engine, Charlotte began babbling about how fun the escape room was and who screamed the loudest. Halfway through, she suddenly spun around in her seat and reached back, trying to pat my knee. “Chloe, you were so brave today!” “If we practice a few more times, you’ll definitely be able to live like a normal person.” She leaned further back, her hand moving toward my leg. I slammed myself against the car door, flinching violently away from her touch. Charlotte’s hand swiped empty air. She pouted, looking incredibly hurt. She pulled her hand back, her smile tightening. “I was just trying to compliment you.” Brandon glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Chloe, she’s trying to be nice.” Charlotte turned back around, but a few minutes later, she spoke up again. “Chloe, are you feeling better? Back in the room, did you get that urge to wash your hands again?” “No.” “Liar. You always do that when you touch something gross.” She let out a soft giggle. “But you really did improve today. Remember in middle school? You used to pass out if you saw a bug.” I stared at the textured pattern on the back of the driver’s seat. She remembered that I used to faint. That was exactly why she had pushed that roach box in my face today. When the car pulled up to my apartment building, I opened the door and got out immediately. Brandon rolled down his window. “I’ll pick you up for work tomorrow morning.” “Don’t bother.” “Chloe.” His voice carried a heavy sigh of exasperation. “Stop acting like a child. I’m going to drop Charlotte off now. Wait for me to get back.” I stood on the sidewalk, looking at him. He was wearing the navy-blue jacket I bought him last year. One of the cuff buttons had come loose last week, and Charlotte had been the one to sew it back on. “Okay,” I said quietly. I turned and walked into my building without looking back. The second I stepped inside my apartment, I ripped off my jacket, threw it straight into the laundry basket, and ran to the bathroom. I turned the faucet on high, letting the freezing water rush over my hands. I pumped a massive glob of soap and began scrubbing. Over and over. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Forty minutes. I didn’t stop until the skin on the back of my hands was raw, bright red, and bleeding from the microscopic cracks. As I finally turned off the water, my phone buzzed. It was a notification from Snapchat. Charlotte’s story. I tapped it. It was a group photo from the escape room. Everyone was smiling, except me—because I wasn’t in it. The caption read: “Such an adrenaline rush today! Best squad ever (minus one)!” Someone in the comments asked: “Where’s Chloe?” Charlotte replied with a laughing emoji covering its mouth. I scrolled down. Brandon had liked the post.

The next morning at the office, I pulled open my desk drawer. My fingertips brushed against something cold, slimy, and gelatinous. The repulsive texture sent an instant shockwave through my system. My breathing caught. My stomach violently cramped. The modern office desk in front of me suddenly blurred, transforming into my 8th-grade classroom. I saw the boys laughing as they stuffed dead, rotting insects into my backpack. I saw my teenage self reaching for a textbook, only to pull out a hand covered in green, oozing slime. The entire classroom was roaring with laughter. “Chloe is a slimy freak! Touch her and she pukes!” I squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. The physical pain dragged me back to reality. I pulled out a sanitizing wipe. Holding it like a shield, I picked up the stress-ball Charlotte had left in my drawer—the one that had burst and leaked slime everywhere—and threw it into the trash. When I was fifteen, I had completely broken down and cried because someone put a dead rat in my locker. Brandon had shown up. He didn’t say a word. He led me out of the hallway, went into my room, and stayed there for five hours. He threw away everything that had been contaminated and bought me brand-new replacements, arranging them exactly the way they were. The next morning, I woke up to a single text from him. “Your room is clean now. It’s okay if the world is dirty. You have me.” I had kept that promise close to my heart for ten years. “Chloe? Earth to Chloe. What are you daydreaming about? Let’s grab lunch.” Charlotte’s voice shattered my thoughts. At lunch, Charlotte used her own fork to stab a piece of beef from her plate and dropped it onto mine. “Try this. It’s absolutely amazing.” I looked down. The edges of the meat were grayish-green. The color was completely off. I laid my fork down. Charlotte frowned. “What now?” “The meat doesn’t look fresh.” “Oh, come on. Everyone else is eating it. You’re the only one being dramatic.” She turned to Brandon. “Brandon, back me up here.” Brandon glanced at my plate. His lips twitched slightly. “It’s fine. If you think it’s dirty, just throw it away.” Charlotte’s face fell. “Dirty? What do you mean dirty? Chloe, you are literally pathologically sensitive.” I stared at the graying meat. “I can’t eat this.” I pushed the plate away. Charlotte’s expression hardened. “Chloe, I was just trying to share my food with you. How can you be so cynical?” “Is my friendship just ‘dirty’ to you too?” People at the neighboring tables were starting to stare. Brandon reached over and pushed the plate back toward me. “Just eat it, Chloe. Don’t make a scene for Charlotte.” I looked into his eyes. “You honestly think there’s nothing wrong with this meat?” He didn’t answer. He just repeated, “Just eat it.” I picked up my fork. I stabbed the gray meat. I put it in my mouth and swallowed it. Charlotte instantly beamed. “See? I told you you were exaggerating.” Brandon let out a sigh of relief and patted the back of my hand. I immediately ran to the restroom and threw up. I stood over the sink, staring at my pale, ghost-like reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t because of the bad meat. It was because Brandon had seen it too—he knew it was bad—and he still made me swallow it. That afternoon, we had a department sync. Brandon sat next to me. He suddenly leaned in and whispered: “For tomorrow’s client presentation, let Charlotte do the speaking.” I froze. “What?” He tried to soften his words. “Charlotte is great on her feet. I want her to co-present with you.” “You do the slides, she does the talking. How does that sound?” I looked at him, my heart aching. “You think I’m an embarrassment, don’t you?” Brandon was silent for a few seconds, his gaze shifting away. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to push yourself too hard.” He lowered his voice further. “Chloe, just trust me on this.” I didn’t reply. I stood up and walked out of the conference room. That night, I stayed late at the office alone, practicing the presentation deck until midnight. I wiped down my keyboard with rubbing alcohol three times before I started typing. As the alcohol seeped into the raw, cracked skin on the backs of my hands, the pain was blinding.

The next afternoon, the main conference hall was packed. I walked up to the podium, holding the clicker. The massive projector screen lit up. I pressed the button to advance the slide. Everything went smoothly at first. But then, a high-definition, giant close-up of a cockroach filled the entire screen. The audience gasped. I instinctively took a sharp step back, my heart hammering against my ribs. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a Snapchat from Charlotte. “Added a little appetizer to help you train your nerves. Surprise!~” My fingertips went completely numb. My hand was shaking so violently I could barely hold the clicker. “Apologies. A slight technical glitch.” I forced my trembling fingers to double-click the button. The disgusting image disappeared, replaced by our quarterly data charts. For the rest of the presentation, my voice was steady, clear, and articulate. I didn’t miss a single data point. But by the time I walked off the stage, my back was soaked in cold sweat. The room erupted into applause. Even the Regional VP nodded at me in approval. Brandon stood up. “We all know how capable Chloe is,” he announced to the room. “That slide was just a harmless little joke. We’ll handle the technical side internally.” “To cover what Chloe might have missed, Charlotte will now take over for the Q&A.” I watched him. I watched Charlotte walk up to the stage with her USB drive, looking like a victorious queen, taking credit for my hard work. He had still managed to put her on stage. At the after-party that night, the atmosphere was lively. Charlotte was sipping her cocktail, laughing loudly. “You guys have no idea how bad Chloe’s OCD actually is,” she announced to the table. “Back in college, our roommate accidentally touched her water bottle.” “Chloe literally threw the whole flask in the trash and cried under her blanket all night.” The table burst into laughter. “Seriously? That is so extra!” Charlotte nudged Brandon with her elbow. “Brandon, you were there. Tell them, isn’t it true?” Brandon held his glass, his fingers tracing the rim. He shot a quick glance at me but said nothing. I set my glass down and looked straight at her. “Charlotte, I want an apology for the cockroach slide this afternoon.” The laughter at the table died instantly. Charlotte’s smirk froze. Her eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Chloe, it was just a joke…” “I was literally trying to help you overcome your fear. You don’t appreciate it, and now you’re humiliating me in front of everyone?” “That is so hurtful.” Brandon set his drink down, his brow furrowing. “She didn’t mean any harm, Chloe. Besides, your presentation went great, didn’t it?” “Charlotte was just trying to help. Don’t make things ugly.” I looked at Brandon, and the last embers of my love for him turned to ice. Seeing Brandon defend her, Charlotte grew bolder. She pointed toward the dirty, ash-stained tray in the middle of the table. “If you really think I’m trying to hurt you, why don’t you prove you aren’t just being dramatic?” “Go wash this ashtray.” “You wash it, and I’ll apologize.” My stomach turned. I stepped back. “I’m not doing that. Move it away.” “Oh, come on! What are you scared of? Touching it won’t kill you!” Charlotte suddenly grabbed the dirty ashtray and shoved it right into my face. I dodged backward so fast my leg slammed violently against the sharp corner of a chair. A blinding pain shot up my leg. I lost my balance and crashed onto the floor. My knee scraped against the hardwood, blood instantly pooling through my torn tights. With a loud clatter, the dirty ashes and wet cigarette butts from the tray spilled all over my clothes. “Oh my god!” Charlotte shrieked, backing away and waving her hands frantically. “I… I didn’t mean to! Why did you react so dramatically?!” Brandon’s face went pale. He took a step toward me but abruptly stopped. I remembered. He always said we had to “keep things professional” at work events. Instead of helping me up, he pulled a pack of tissues from his pocket and handed them to Charlotte. “Hey, don’t cry. It was an accident.” I didn’t look at either of them. I dragged myself up using the wall for support and walked out to call an Uber. On the ride home, my phone buzzed continuously with texts from Brandon. “I know you felt wronged tonight. Charlotte went too far, but she knows she messed up. She’s crying her eyes out wanting to apologize to you.” Followed by a second text: “But Chloe, think about it. If she hadn’t been pushing you all these years, would we even be this close?” “We are getting married in five days. She’s doing this because she cares about our future.” I stared at the screen and didn’t reply. When I got home, my mother was sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone. On her screen was a Snapchat photo of Charlotte smiling through her tears, surrounded by coworkers comforting her. I limped into the living room. Hearing my footsteps, she looked up. The smile on her face vanished. “Look at Charlotte. She’s so mature, she knows how to handle herself in public. She makes everyone look good!” She threw her phone onto the coffee table. “And look at you. You can’t even finish a simple dinner without throwing a tantrum. You embarrass me!” I stood in the center of the room, looking at her. “Mom, my knee is bleeding.” “Bleeding?” My mother let out a cold sneer. “Your father divorced me because he couldn’t stand your dramatic, high-maintenance OCD! Understood?” “What, are you trying to drive Brandon away now too?” She pointed a finger at me, her voice shrill. “You think you’re hot stuff? You’re lucky Brandon even wants you!” “If Charlotte wasn’t constantly smoothing things over for you, he would have dumped your crazy ass years ago!” “Honestly, Brandon and Charlotte make a much better couple than you two ever will!” I had heard these words so many times I was entirely numb. Without a word, I walked into the bathroom and locked the door. I slid down onto the cold tile floor. I grabbed the showerhead and let the cold water blast over the bloody scrape on my knee. The stinging pain kept me grounded. Under the cover of the rushing water, I dialed my bridesmaid’s number.

Five days later. Our wedding day. I sat in the bridal suite in my white gown, my fingers subconsciously wiping the edge of the vanity over and over. Kathleen, my bridesmaid, stood behind me, adjusting my veil. Her fingers accidentally brushed against the back of my neck, and I instinctively flinched. “It’s just me, Chloe,” she whispered gently. I nodded at her, trying to breathe. The ceremony went by in a blur, and soon, we were at the reception party. Charlotte took the microphone and walked onto the stage, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Family and friends, we are going to play a very special game tonight!” “Blindfolded Touch!” “We are going to blindfold our beautiful bride. Then, we’ll have various men—not just the groom—touch her, and she has to guess which one is Brandon!” She paused, raising her voice over the microphone. “Think of it as a special exposure therapy game!” “Chloe, you’ve been wanting to cure your OCD forever, right? Today is the day!” The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. I froze on the spot, the blood draining from my face. Blindfolded. Touched by random men. I whipped my head toward Brandon, my eyes begging him for help, filled with absolute terror. He looked at the laughing guests, then back at me. He walked over and picked up the black silk ribbon. “Just play along,” he whispered, his voice low. “It’s just a game. Don’t worry, I’m right here.” My vision plunged into total darkness. The sounds around me became distorted and muffled. A rough, calloused hand grabbed my left arm. My entire body locked up. My stomach did a violent flip. Then, another hand stroked down my spine, slow and heavy. I began to hyperventilate, my chest heaving. Someone in the crowd yelled, “Who is it? If you guess wrong, you have to take a shot!” A third hand reached from behind, grabbing the back of my neck. In that fraction of a second, the suffocating trauma of when I was thirteen rushed back, drowning me. “No! Stay away!” I shrieked, ripping the blindfold off. I collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball and wrapping my arms tightly around my head. The room fell silent for a heartbeat, and then an even louder wave of laughter exploded. “Oh my god, she is so dramatic!” “It was just a touch, it’s not like it killed her!” Charlotte was holding her phone up, recording me, laughing so hard she was shaking. At the VIP table, my mother was laughing too, leaning over to talk to our relatives. “I told you she’s too delicate. How is she going to live with a husband if she won’t even let men touch her?” Charlotte crouched down next to me, whispering in my ear. “Chloe, I know you’re scared. But you can’t expect Brandon to walk on eggshells around you forever.” “He’s too good for you. I’m doing this for your own sake, okay?” The moment she finished speaking, Brandon walked over. He didn’t try to help me up. He just stood over me, his forehead creased in irritation. “Chloe. I approved this game.” He looked down at me, his eyes full of disappointment. “I was one of the people who touched you. We’ve been together for five years. Are you telling me you can’t even recognize your own fiancé’s touch?” I slowly let go of my head and stood up. My hands were still trembling, but my eyes were dry. I wasn’t crying. I looked at Charlotte. I looked at Brandon. I looked at my mother. I reached up, unpinned my veil, and tossed it onto the table next to me. I turned to walk away. Brandon rushed forward, grabbing my wrist. “Chloe, stop making a scene.” His voice was a harsh, impatient whisper. “I know you’re mad. We can talk about this when we get home. Don’t make us a laughingstock in front of everyone.” I looked at his hand clamping my wrist. I didn’t say a word. I just yanked my arm back with a cold, terrifying strength. He blinked, startled by my defiance, and instinctively let go. He watched me walk toward the exit, but he didn’t pursue me. In his mind, I just needed some space to cool off. He believed I would crawl back on my own. In the parking lot, Kathleen’s car was already waiting, engine idling. “You finally did it,” she said as I opened the door. “You should have done this five years ago.” I got into the back seat, changed into my regular clothes, and tossed the white wedding dress out onto the pavement. Before the car pulled away, I took one last look at the glittering lights of the hotel. “Let’s go.” Ten minutes later, inside the reception hall. It was time for the wedding toasts. Brandon went to the bridal suite to find me, his face wearing a smug expression of “let’s see how you apologize for this.” The room was completely empty.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442732”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

While I was trying on my wedding dress, Julian’s best friend suddenly tagged me on Snapchat: “Stella, the invitations are shipping the day after tomorrow. Have you noticed the bride’s name isn’t yours yet?” Looking at myself in the mirror, draped in the pure white gown, my mind went entirely blank. The next second, a voice note from Julian’s childhood buddy, Carter, popped up in the group: “I bet Julian a grand that you wouldn’t notice until you got the physical invite. He changed the bride’s name to Melody.” “You’re way too carefree, Stella. Tell Julian to change it back quick, or are we still having a wedding?” I slowly unzipped the wedding dress, feeling a sudden wave of nausea wash over me. Melody Evans was Julian’s first love—the legendary “one that got away” in their elite social circle. Yet, marrying me was a vow Julian had made solemnly in front of both of our families. And now, during the wedding prep, they were using my self-respect as a pawn for their bets. “Julian, you’re wicked. I bet she’ll be crying and begging you to take her back once she finds out.” “I bet she won’t even dare to lose her temper. Whoever loses pays for next month’s yacht party.” Then, a special notification buzzed on my phone. Melody had posted a photoset on Instagram, wearing a limited-edition wedding gown. [Thank you for giving me my dream wedding dress, Julian~] Beneath it, Julian had commented with a red heart emoji. I calmly tapped the “like” button on her post. Then, I deleted the Snapchat wedding planning group and booked a one-way ticket to Alaska. The wedding was off. I’d rather go freeze in the mountain wind to clear my mind and wash the dirt from my eyes.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the bridal boutique reflected off the mirror. I folded the heavy train section by section and handed it back to the assistant. The assistant hurried after me with a measuring tape, smiling. “Miss Vance, do we still need to take another half-inch off the waist? Mr. Sterling said everything has to be absolutely perfect.” I looked at the white tulle in her hands, my voice flat. “No need. Cancel the order. Give this dress to the next customer.” The assistant froze, chasing me down with the contract. “Miss Vance, if you cancel now, the fitting fees and the deposit cannot be refunded.” I pulled my card from my designer bag and pressed the pen down. “Deduct whatever you need to. Just don’t contact Julian Sterling again, and don’t call my parents.” When I walked out of the store, the afternoon sun was so blinding it made my eyes water. On my phone, the wedding planner was still messaging me about the color palette of the flower wall. I leaned against the sidewalk railing, systematically canceling the hotel block, the florist, the makeup artist, and the limo service. The cancellation fees drained five thousand dollars from my account instantly. The wedding planner sounded incredibly hesitant. “Miss Vance, does Mr. Sterling know about this? He just called this morning to change the bride’s nameplates to Miss Evans. He said it was just a joke…” Staring at the transaction success screen, I said softly, “He likes to play games. Let him plan the rest himself.” My mother’s call cut in. In the background, I could hear the loud laughter of her country club friends. She lowered her voice, but couldn’t hide her smug excitement: “Stella! Julian’s assistant just delivered a trunk of designer perfumes and limited-edition bags. Everyone here is talking about how lucky you are.” “He also promised you the biggest wedding in the city. Stop being so stubborn. Men have to socialize. Just swallow your pride and it’ll pass.” I asked her, “Mom, what if the name on the invitation isn’t mine?” My mother paused, her voice instantly turning cold and sharp. “Don’t talk nonsense. A man like Julian willing to marry you is a miracle for our family. Don’t make a scene over nothing and embarrass both families.” I let out a soft laugh. “I get it. Enjoy the bags, Mom.” After hanging up, I dialed Julian. The moment the call connected, Melody’s soft, giggling voice drifted into my ear first. Someone in the background cheered, “Julian, Stella is checking up on you! Coax her quick, or the bride might actually run away.”

Julian’s voice sounded incredibly dismissive. “Stella, what is it now?” I watched the passing traffic and asked, “Was it fun, betting on my name on the invitations?” His side went quiet for a second, followed quickly by the clinking of champagne glasses. Julian chuckled, “The invitations haven’t even been printed yet. I’ll have them changed back tomorrow. Melody just got back to the country. The guys were just trying to make her feel welcome.” I replied, “So my dignity is just a cheap token for you to please her?” Julian clicked his tongue in irritation. “You’re about to become Mrs. Sterling. Can’t you show a little grace? Melody is in poor health. She just wanted to wear a wedding dress once to fulfill a bucket list wish.” Melody’s gentle voice floated over. “Julian, don’t fight with Stella because of me. I’ll take the dress off and give it back to her right now.” Julian’s tone instantly softened. “It’s not your fault. She’s just been in a mood lately.” I looked down and saw Melody’s Instagram had updated again. Next to two movie tickets was Julian’s hand resting on the steering wheel. That Cartier watch was something I bought him after pulling double shifts for six months at the animal shelter. Her caption read: [Thank you for always being my safety net for the rest of my life.] When Julian spoke to me again, his patience was completely gone. “Stella, can you not be such a buzzkill? You’re acting like a psychopath.” The call went dead. I stood at the subway entrance and cleared every single photo from our shared album with one tap. My phone buzzed again. Julian had Venmoed me five thousand dollars with a note: “Go buy a bag. Stop throwing a tantrum.” Standing at the turnstile, I declined the transfer and put Julian’s profile on “Do Not Disturb.” He quickly sent a text: “Stella, that’s enough. Take the exit ramp I’m giving you. Don’t wait until I lose my patience.” I let out a cold laugh and didn’t reply. That night, I went back to our penthouse and started packing my things. As the cardboard boxes piled up in the corner, I threw my animal shelter ID badge right into one. Just last week, Julian’s mother had told me, “A Sterling daughter-in-law rolling around in the dirt with stray animals is embarrassing.” So, I had handed in my resignation. Thinking about it now, it was utterly pathetic. As I bent down to grab the packing tape, Julian’s FaceTime call suddenly flashed on my screen. I answered. The screen showed the warm, upscale lighting of a boutique pet store. Melody was standing next to him, cradling a ragdoll cat, while Julian held a bag of imported cat food. He frowned. “Why did you decline the money?” I taped the box shut. “Don’t need it.” Julian said coldly, “You don’t need it? Does your pathetic salary even cover the wedding cancellation fees? Don’t make yourself look cheap just to spite me.” Melody leaned closer to the camera, her eyes perfectly rimmed with tears. “Stella, are you mad at Julian because I tried on the wedding dress yesterday?” I looked at the cat in her arms and warned quietly, “That cat has discharge in its ears. You should probably stop taking photos and take it to a vet first.” Melody’s face stiffened. Julian instantly blocked the lens. “Can you stop talking to people like they’re stray mutts?” My hand holding the tape froze. He used to love watching me treat injured animals. He used to say that when I bent down to help them, I practically glowed. Melody bit her lip. “It’s all my fault. My health is bad, and having a wedding dress photo shoot was just a silly dream of mine. I’ll delete the photos right now.” Julian wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his voice softening. “Don’t delete anything. You did nothing wrong.” When he turned back to me, his face was like ice. “Stella, look at how sweet Melody is, and look at you. Your petty jealousy is exhausting.” I folded the top of the box. “You two deserve each other.” Julian didn’t seem to process it. He went silent for two seconds before laughing. “Fine. Keep playing your little drama. I’ll have my assistant reprint the invitations tomorrow.”

I hung up. The Sterling family group chat was blowing up with new notifications. Julian’s mother had posted nine photos with the caption: [Finally met the lovely Melody whom Julian always talks about. So elegant and polite. No wonder everyone adores her.] The photos were from an exclusive Sterling family brunch. Melody sat right next to Victoria Sterling, and Julian was leaning in to serve her food. Victoria Sterling messaged me privately soon after: [Stella, Melody has traveled a long way back. We are just hosting her. Don’t overthink this. A Sterling bride needs to show some class.] I replied: [Mrs. Sterling, Julian and I are over. The wedding is canceled.] She called me immediately, her voice sharp and demanding. “What is wrong with you? Julian is willing to settle down and marry you, which is already giving your family plenty of face.” I put the phone on speaker on the table and continued taping my boxes. She tried to suppress her rage. “Melody is Julian’s first love. It’s normal for a man to have a past. If you hold on too tight, you’ll only push him away.” I said, “Then let him go.” The line went quiet for a moment before Victoria sneered. “Don’t you dare regret this. The Vance family has accepted so many of our favors. If we make this public, your family will be the one begging for mercy.” I hung up, throwing every plush toy, couple’s mug, and photo album Julian had ever given me into a heavy-duty trash bag. At the bottom of the closet sat a half-knitted grey sweater. I had been knitting it for Julian. His hands always got freezing cold in the winter. I grabbed the end of the yarn and pulled. The wool unraveled around my feet, looking exactly like the boundaries I had repeatedly compromised over the last three years. The donation truck arrived quickly. The driver lifted the heavy bags and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want any of this, miss?” I nodded. “None of it. Throw it away or recycle it.” The apartment slowly emptied out until only the spare key was left hanging by the door. Suddenly, the lock clicked. The door swung open, and Julian walked in, pushing two large pink suitcases. Julian scanned the empty living room, his brow furrowing. “Why is this place so empty?” Melody peeked out from behind him, still holding the cat, her voice timid. “Stella, am I intruding?” Julian pushed the suitcases inside, his tone completely matter-of-fact. “The pipes burst in her apartment. It’s not safe for a single girl to stay in a hotel. She’s going to stay here with us for a few days.” I asked, “In which room?” Julian pushed the bags toward the master bedroom. “Melody has trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places. She’ll take the master bedroom. Go clean up the guest room.” Melody quickly grabbed his sleeve. “Julian, don’t. Stella will be upset. I can just sleep on the couch.” Julian patted her hand to comfort her. “Your health is delicate. Don’t make yourself suffer.” He looked at me, his eyes cold. “You’re going to be the mistress of this house anyway. Can’t you be a little generous?” “This isn’t my house.” Julian’s face relaxed slightly. “At least you know that. I paid for this penthouse. Just because you picked out some furniture doesn’t mean you get to make the rules.” I reached out and took the keys off the hook. The metal felt ice-cold against my palm. Melody said softly, “Stella, don’t misunderstand. Julian is just worried about me. You’re still the most important person to him.” I looked at her. “Was the movie you guys saw last night good?” Melody’s eyes flickered with guilt. Julian immediately stepped in front of her. “Are you ever going to drop this? What does Melody owe you?” I said, “She doesn’t owe me anything. You do.” Julian stared at me, a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips. “Here we go again. Stella, every time you’re unhappy, you threaten to break up. Isn’t this getting old?” I grabbed my packed suitcase. The wheels rolled across the hardwood floor, making a sharp, distinct sound. The smirk faded from Julian’s face. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I put on my shoes by the door, my voice incredibly calm. “You don’t need to clean the guest room. You two can have this whole place to yourselves. Julian, we’re done.” Melody’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “Stella, this is my fault. I’ll leave right now. Please don’t ruin your wedding over this.” But Julian held her back, his eyes turning dangerous. “Let her go.” He leaned against the doorframe, his voice tight with anger. “If you walk out that door today, don’t expect me to chase you. You have three days to come back and apologize. If you do, I’ll pretend this never happened.” I opened the door. Julian added, “Stella, I won’t cover for you with your parents. When they start asking questions, you deal with them yourself.” My steps paused for half a second. For the past three years, my mother had bragged to everyone about how well I was marrying. My father had paraded the expensive whiskey and cigars Julian sent him in front of all our relatives. Julian knew how much I dreaded disappointing them. He always knew exactly where to stab. Melody chimed in softly, “Stella, your parents love Julian so much. You’re being so selfish.” I turned back to look at Julian. “Changing the bride’s name on the invites, taking her to meet your family, letting her sleep in my bed… and I’m the one being selfish?” Julian went silent for a second, but his arrogance quickly returned. “We can talk about all of that later. Get back inside. Who are you trying to put a show on for?” I placed the keys on the shoe rack. Julian’s eyes locked onto them, and his brow twitched. “You’re leaving the keys?” I replied, “Like you said, you bought this place. Now that someone else is sleeping in the master bedroom, it’s not appropriate for me to keep these.” His face completely darkened. “Stella, do you have to be this dramatic?” I didn’t answer. I pulled my suitcase into the elevator. Before the doors slid shut, Julian’s voice echoed down the hall: “Stella! If you walk out now, don’t you dare come crawling back!” As the elevator went down, I tossed the spare keycard straight into the trash chute. My phone buzzed. It was Claire, the shelter director: [Stella, a National Geographic documentary crew is coming tomorrow to film some conservation footage. Can you help us out for one last day before you officially leave? They’re looking for a veterinary consultant, and I think you’d be perfect for it.] I typed back: [Sure.] The moment my screen went dark, Melody’s Instagram popped up with an update. She was standing in front of the master bedroom’s floor-to-ceiling window. Her caption read: [After all the detours, I’m finally back where I feel safest.] The next morning, I arrived at the shelter with my suitcase. I changed into my scrubs, the familiar scent of disinfectant washing over me. As I was bending down to adjust the heating lamp for a puppy that had just come out of surgery, the courtyard outside suddenly erupted into chaos. Claire walked into the clinic room, wiping her hands, her face incredibly tense. “Stella, the National Geographic crew was filming, but Melody’s PR team suddenly barged in with their own cameras.” My hands paused. “Who authorized that?” Claire lowered her voice. “The shelter’s main donor called and said Melody needs a ‘charity angel’ shoot. Julian is out there with her too. The documentary director, Zach Thorne, looks absolutely furious. He’s just standing there with his crew, mocking them.” I walked out to the courtyard. Melody was standing by the cages in a pristine white dress, surrounded by cameras. She bent down, attempting to lift a golden puppy that had been neutered just yesterday. I immediately blocked the cage door. “He’s not even twenty-four hours post-op. You cannot hold him.” Melody looked up at me, her smile dripping with sweet innocence. “Stella, I just want to show everyone how cute he is. People will only donate if they see how sweet he is.” Julian stood just outside the camera frame, frowning. “Stella, don’t make a scene here.” I stared right into his eyes. “His incisions haven’t healed yet. If something happens, who takes the blame?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442733”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My husband, Liam, was slipped a spiked drink when he was young. He had a one-night stand with a woman, and she ended up pregnant. In the third year of our marriage, he looked at me with a guilty expression and said: “I didn’t find out about the boy until he was already six. He is the only mistake of my past, but a son of the corporate empire cannot be left raised in the slums. He carries my blood.” The child was innocent, after all. So, I agreed to let him move into our home. Unfortunately, the boy, Leo, hated my guts. “You’re a wicked woman! If it weren’t for you, my mommy would be living with my daddy right now!” I couldn’t stand his daily screaming and tantrums anymore. I proposed sending him to a prestigious boarding school. But Liam flatly refused. “He’s just a six-year-old child. Even if he dislikes you, what harm can he actually do? Since when did you become so heartless, Hailey?” And that brought us to today—when Leo pushed me down the stairs, causing me to miscarry. When Liam heard the news, he merely pinched the bridge of his nose with an exhausted sigh. “If you had just treated him like your own son, why would he have done this to you?” At that exact moment, the harsh truth finally clicked. In his heart, that boy was his family. I was just an outsider. Clutching my empty, aching stomach, I dialed my billionaire brother’s number. “Julian, my baby is gone. Please, come and take me home.”

Right after I hung up, Liam walked into the VIP hospital room. He was holding his illegitimate son, Leo, by the hand. The little boy had his lips pouted, looking completely defiant. “I didn’t do it on purpose! She slipped because she’s clumsy…” Liam tapped the back of the boy’s head and said in a cold tone, “I’m saying this for the last time. Apologize to Hailey.” For the past three months, he had been trying to force Leo to call me “Mom.” And every single time, Leo would throw the exact same hysterical tantrum: “No! I won’t!” “I already have a mommy! She took care of me for six years. We just don’t live together right now!” He threw his arms around Liam’s waist, sobbing. “Daddy, why don’t you want my real mommy? She’s so sweet. Why can’t we be together?” Liam froze, speechless. He had always avoided explaining to Leo why he and Chloe couldn’t be together. Looking at the boy’s tear-stained face, Liam’s eyes filled with intense guilt. After the nanny took Leo out of the room, Liam pulled up a chair and sat down beside my bed. “I’ve made him come here and apologize. You can’t seriously expect a six-year-old to get down on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, can you?” I clenched my fists under the blanket, my throat burning. “So my baby deserved to die?” During the three months since Leo arrived, he had spiked my water with harmful herbal extracts and abortive tea mixes more than once. A six-year-old child could never have come up with that on his own. It was glaringly obvious who was pulling the strings behind him. I had warned Liam before: “Send the boy back to his mother.” But Liam had remained silent, smoking on the balcony all night long. Later, as Leo kept sweetly calling him “Daddy” day after day, Liam’s cold exterior began to melt. The next time I brought it up, his face was like ice. “That’s out of the question.” “Chloe is manipulative and unstable. She will ruin my son if she raises him.” A suffocating silence hung in the hospital room. Liam rubbed his temples and said in a raspy voice, “I can compensate you in any way you want, Hailey. Just don’t ask me to send Leo away.” I turned my head away from him. “Then there’s nothing left to say.” Liam stared at my belly, a flicker of pain crossing his eyes. “Hailey, I’ve already lost one child. Do you want me to lose another?” “You should know that no one can ever threaten your position as my wife.” I kept my eyes lowered, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth. Liam and I had an arranged marriage for business alliances. But looking back, we did share three years of genuine love. That was before we knew Leo existed. Back then, he aggressively outbid everyone at a high-end charity auction to win back my late mother’s vintage jewelry just to make me smile. He even shut down a private harbor in New York for an entire night just to throw a fireworks show for my birthday. But all of that ended abruptly the moment a six-year-old boy appeared. I touched my lower abdomen. Now that the anesthesia had fully worn off, a sharp, cramping pain flared up inside me. I closed my eyes and said quietly, “Liam, let’s get a divorce.” Liam stiffened, then let out a cold, cynical laugh. “Over a child?” “I know you hate Leo, and I know you’ve been paranoid about his mother.” “But I’ve told you a thousand times—you are my only wife. There is absolutely no need to be jealous of a woman who poses zero threat to you.”

He always referred to Leo’s mother as “that woman.” But he had no idea what a desperate woman would do for the sake of her child. The day I fell, Leo’s remote-control car had rolled right under my feet at the top of the stairs. I was five months pregnant back then. With my belly blocking my line of sight, I tripped and tumbled all the way down the grand staircase. I still remembered the look in Leo’s eyes. Panic, fear, but also a sick, subtle trace of satisfaction. He had clutched his smart-watch phone, his childish voice trembling as he spoke into it: “Mommy, she’s bleeding so much…” On the other end of the line, Chloe had whispered in a rushed, hushed tone: “Wait a little longer before you call for help.” “Listen to me, Leo. You cannot let her give birth to that baby. If she does, your father’s wealth will go to someone else.” “Only if that baby is gone will everything belong to you. And only then can mommy come back to your father’s side where she belongs…” There were security cameras all over our house. Liam was a ruthless, sharp businessman. It was impossible for him not to know. He just chose to turn a blind eye. For the sake of his son, he would always harbor a subconscious soft spot for the boy’s mother. On the day I was discharged, the nurse gave me a strange look. “Where is your husband?” I looked down at my phone. Liam had sent a message just minutes ago: [Leo says his mother is sick.] [Don’t worry, I won’t go see her myself. I’m just setting up a team of doctors to take care of her.] I closed my eyes, letting out a long, heavy breath. “My husband is dead,” I told the nurse. The nurse blinked in surprise, then offered me a knowing, supportive smile. “Congratulations.” Once my body recovered, I immediately began liquidating my assets. Julian’s company had invested $900 million into Liam’s firm back when we married. Pulling out that capital and dividing our assets was going to be a messy, massive war. I walked out of my family’s corporate office holding a thick stack of legal documents. On my drive back, I got stuck in a heavy traffic jam. My car ended up stopped right next to an elite private elementary school. “Daddy! You actually came to pick me up today!” Holding the steering wheel, I glanced at my rearview mirror. I saw Leo jumping eagerly into the back seat of my car. The car I was driving belonged to Liam’s fleet. The boy hadn’t even looked at the license plate before hopping in. The second he saw me in the driver’s seat, his face turned paper-white. “Hailey…”

Just then, a woman rushed over from the sidewalk, grabbing him out of the car and pulling him into her arms. “What do you think you’re doing? Why are you trying to kidnap my son!” “Just because you lost your own baby doesn’t mean you can steal mine! Leo didn’t mean to hurt you!” I narrowed my eyes. I recognized her instantly. Chloe. Leo’s eyes darted around before he buried his face in her chest, crying loudly. “Mommy! While you were gone, this lady kept hitting me!” “She wouldn’t give me food, and she wouldn’t let me see Daddy!” Chloe gasped dramatically, her eyes wide with manufactured horror. “How could you be so cruel? How could you abuse my little boy! He might not be yours, but he is the baby I raised with my own sweat and tears…” The street was packed with other wealthy mothers picking up their kids. Hearing this, several of them threw their takeout coffees and trash right at my windshield, whispering loudly: “Unbelievable. Stepmothers are always evil. She’s just bullying a child who doesn’t have his real mom around!” “Exactly. Look at her luxury clothes. She’s clearly a homewrecker who chased out the real mother and took her place!” Chloe held Leo tightly, weeping as though she were the ultimate victim. I rolled up my window, grabbed some tissues, and calmly wiped the coffee off my window. Then, I sent Liam a text: “Get over here.” It showed as read, but there was no reply. I sent another one: “At Leo’s school.” He grabbed the location pin immediately. Within ten minutes, his black SUV screeched to a halt nearby. After getting a quick rundown of what happened from the security guard, Liam glared coldly at the mother and son clinging to each other. Chloe swallowed hard, looking terrified. “I’m so sorry, Liam… I was just so worried about Leo. I didn’t mean to misunderstand your wife…” Liam didn’t even look at her. He turned to me and said, “I know you’re angry. I’ll make her apologize to you.” Chloe caught on quickly. She lowered her head submissively. “I am deeply sorry, Mrs. Vance.” Liam waved his hand dismissively, signaling her to take the child and leave. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel and let out a sarcastic chuckle. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to do?” Liam watched Chloe’s retreating figure. After a long pause, he sighed. “She’s still the boy’s mother, Hailey. Don’t push her too hard.” I looked away. My eyelashes fluttered slightly. When I first found out about Chloe, Liam had knelt before me and swore: “I was only nineteen when I was drugged.” “That woman only wanted my money. If I ever see her again, I will make sure she loses everything.” And yet, here they were, reunited. Staring into the eyes of the woman who shared his son’s face, his heart had inevitably softened. A dramatic reunion, wrapped in lingering looks of pity. I let out a breath, feeling a wave of nausea. I stepped on the gas and drove away. Rain began to pour down, splashing cold water through the half-open window onto my face. Right then, my phone lit up. I wiped my eyes. It was a message from Julian’s corporate legal team. [Hailey, we have finished auditing the assets. We are ready to pull our funding from Liam’s company at any moment.] I typed back instantly: [Do it. We pull out tomorrow. The faster, the better.]

When I got home, I immediately started reviewing the paperwork, double-checking every clause of the divorce agreement. When we got married, I had made Liam sign a prenuptial agreement. If any illegitimate children ever surfaced, he would have to leave the marriage with absolutely nothing. I still remembered the night he signed it under the glowing fireworks in New York. Back then, he would have agreed to anything I asked. I still remembered how my heart had fluttered. But now, I felt absolutely nothing for the girl I used to be. The door opened. Liam walked in. A faint scent of unfamiliar perfume clung to his sleeves. “Are you still mad at me?” “I sent Leo to sleep at his mother’s place tonight.” He walked over, trying to sound patient. “I know you want a family, Hailey. I’ll make sure Leo respects you and calls you Mom.” I didn’t even look up from my laptop. “He will never be my son.” Liam’s face darkened. He walked to the window and lit a cigarette. “Hailey, I don’t get it. Why are you so hostile toward a child?” “It seems like you’ve hated him from the very second he walked through our door.” He was wrong. It was Leo who hated me. When we first met, I had bought him a beautiful welcome gift. But not only did he throw it in the trash, he used the remote-control car to kill my unborn baby. At the thought of this, I shut my laptop and looked up at him coldly. “Liam, you know the truth.” “The truth about what?” “Every time you look at that boy, you see his mother.” Liam’s hand holding the cigarette shook violently. He let out a bitter, defensive laugh. “If there were ever a chance of me getting back with her, do you honestly think you would be my wife right now?” A sharp pang went through my chest. He despised Chloe’s low-class schemes, but that didn’t stop him from using her existence to humiliate me. Seeing that I didn’t argue back, a smug smile returned to his face. “Be good. Didn’t you always want to see the Northern Lights? I cleared three days of my schedule. Let’s fly out tomorrow, okay?” I turned my head away silently, completely checked out. The next morning, Liam saw my packed suitcases sitting by the door. He let out a soft laugh. “You already packed your bags? Look who couldn’t wait.” Just as I was about to pull out the signed divorce papers, Leo came bursting into the foyer, crying his eyes out. “Daddy! Today is the school’s Family Day!” “My daddy and mommy have never showed up together. All the other kids have both their parents there. They laugh at me and call me a charity case…” “Daddy, please come with Mommy just this once. Please…” Liam hesitated for a second. But in the end, he nodded. The Northern Lights we were supposed to see drifted further out of reach. He couldn’t even look me in the eye as he walked out the door. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with a text from him. [I’m only doing this for the kid. I’m just showing up so he doesn’t get bullied.] I smiled bitterly to myself. First, it’s just showing up for the kid. Then what? A family photo? A family dinner? A family vacation? With a living child bridging them together, Liam and Chloe would never truly be apart. Fortunately, I had already built my exit strategy. At 2:00 PM, I finished loading my suitcases, waiting for Julian’s private security detail to pick me up. But just as I opened the front door, I ran right into a sweating, panicked Liam. In his arms was a pale, whimpering Leo. The boy’s leg was covered in blood, looking absolutely gruesome.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442734”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Last night, I received a termination email from HR. The reason? I was “too old,” “lacked a prestigious degree,” and was “holding back the company’s modernization.” This morning, the HR manager pulled me aside, looking at me with a mix of pity and helplessness. “Aria, you crossed the wrong person this time.” I followed her gaze. Across the glass partition, Chloe Davis was laughing loudly, surrounded by her clique of newly hired team members. Chloe was the CEO’s niece. Two weeks ago, she was parachuted into the sales department as the new Director. She brought a dozen of her college classmates with her, branding them as a “highly intellectual, Gen-Z elite task force.” Yesterday, I rejected her marketing proposal because it was completely detached from reality. Suddenly, Chloe glanced my way. Her eyes flashed with childish provocation. “Older, uneducated women really should just stay home and be housewives. It saves them from embarrassing themselves in the professional world!” I didn’t say a word. I just calmly signed the severance agreement. What she didn’t realize was that I didn’t need this job. The company needed me. A few minutes later, I posted a simple update on my Instagram: “Officially resigned. Excited for the next chapter.” Within seconds, my notifications blew up.

My former clients immediately began commenting under my post. “Aria! Come to my company. I’ll triple whatever salary they were paying you!” “Triple? That’s thinking too small. Aria, name your price. My firm is always open to you.” My Snapchat buzzed. It was Eleanor Vance, one of my biggest clients. “Aria, what is going on? We literally just discussed our quarterly contract. You resigned before we even signed?” I typed back, “I’m sorry, Eleanor. My name was put on the company’s restructuring list. A new representative will reach out to you shortly.” She sent a confused emoji. “You? Laid off?” “Is your firm trying to go bankrupt?” I replied with a helpless shrug emoji. She immediately texted back: “If you aren’t managing our account, I will have to reconsider this partnership entirely.” Seeing these messages, a wave of relief washed over me. Having spent ten years in this industry, I had built an ironclad network of high-profile clients. Many competitors had tried to headhunt me with massive signing bonuses, but I had always turned them down. I believed in loyalty. Ten years ago, when I freshly graduated from college, I sent out hundreds of resumes and got nothing but rejections. Just when I was about to give up, Richard Davis, the CEO of this company, gave me a chance. To repay that debt, I worked tirelessly. I treated every small task with absolute perfection. I secured deal after deal, single-handedly boosting the department’s revenue and ensuring everyone got their bonuses. But lately, things had gone sour. A week ago, Chloe and her “elite team” made a massive logistical error that almost cost the company millions. I pointed out their mistake during a meeting. That very night, Richard called me to “remind me of my place” and deducted my monthly bonus. Three days ago, Chloe encouraged the team to practice “quiet quitting” and leave exactly at 5 PM, leaving half-finished client presentations behind. I stayed up all night to clean up their mess. Yet, behind my back, they called me a “toxic micro-manager.” Suddenly, the company-wide WhatsApp group lit up. [Effective today, Chloe Davis is officially promoted to Executive Director of Sales.] The group chat exploded with celebratory emojis and congratulatory messages. Many of them were from junior employees I had personally trained and mentored from scratch. Those messages woke me up. This place was no longer worth my loyalty. “Aria.” Chloe pushed my office door open, looking around at my half-packed boxes. “Cleaning out your desk?” “Make sure you wipe it down before you leave. Consider it practice for your future housework.” “Take your time. Enjoy your final moments of contributing to this company!” I gave her a flat look and ignored her. My silence annoyed her. She stepped closer, pointing a manicured finger at me. “Why are you acting so high and mighty? So what if you were the top sales representative? I fired you with a single sentence.” I let out a soft laugh. “Is that so?” “Did your uncle actually sign off on this layoff list?” “Or did you make this decision all by yourself?” Richard had been on an business trip in Europe for the past two weeks, unreachable unless it was an absolute emergency. I knew for a fact he had no idea. After all, no sane CEO would fire their top performer of ten years—the very backbone of the company’s revenue. Chloe flinched slightly, her confidence wavering for a fraction of a second, before she puffed out her chest again. “My uncle adores me. My family practically owns this place. You’re just an employee. Why would there be any consequences for firing you?” “Stop trying to scare me. You’re just bitter because you’re washed up and nobody else wants you!” I smiled gently. “Chloe, I highly doubt you can handle this position.” She tried to snap back, but stumbled over her words. I continued, “Do you even know our clients’ preferences? Do you know how to negotiate a contract? Can you even draft a viable proposal?” “This position isn’t for a pretty trophy, Chloe. Your textbook theories won’t survive in the real world.” “I suggest you get to work. Otherwise, you might end up begging me to come back.” I picked up my box and walked past her. She shrieked behind me, “Beg you to come back? In your dreams!” “Leave your client logs before you go!” I tapped my temple. “They’re all up here. Good luck.” As I walked through the open office, not a single person stood up to say goodbye. I didn’t feel sad anymore. Instead, I felt a strange curiosity. Without me there to fix their mistakes and fight for their bonuses, I wondered how long they would enjoy their “stress-free” work life. Let’s see how long this company lasts.

On my Uber ride home, my phone buzzed constantly. I opened the old department WhatsApp group. Chloe was busy pitching her grand vision. “I firmly believe that in this new era, we need fresh minds. We are young, and we represent the future. The old ways of doing things are completely outdated and toxic!” “Starting today, no more overtime. Under my leadership, everyone will have perfect work-life balance!” The chat was flooded with praise, alongside passive-aggressive digs aimed at me. Suddenly, I was added to a new, unofficial group chat. The creator was Logan, the office kiss-ass. “Honestly, Chloe is a hundred times better than Aria. At least she doesn’t force us to finish projects before going home!” Others quickly chimed in: “For real. I’m so glad Aria is gone. Besides breathing down our necks, what did she actually do for us?” “Exactly! That old witch was obsessed with deadlines.” “With a boss like Chloe, I’d gladly stay here forever.” “And she’s so sweet, she never raises her voice.” The messages piled up, each one more toxic than the last. Until I accidentally hit a thumbs-up emoji in response. The next second: [You have been removed from the group chat.] I stared at the screen. To say I wasn’t hurt would be a lie. I never liked making people work late. But when you lack the skill, you have to put in the time. Clients don’t pay for excuses. Every time we stayed late, it was because someone had botched a file, and I was always the last one to leave. I even fought HR tooth and nail to get them overtime pay. And yet, to them, my protection was “oppression.” I opened Instagram and saw a new post from Stella, my former mentee. “Nobody knows how exhausting it is to constantly be overshadowed by someone who thinks they are everyone’s mentor.” Underneath, someone commented, “Stella, you’re finally free now that she’s gone!” Stella replied, “Yes! Nobody knows how much I’ve had to endure.” I laughed out loud, utterly amused. Stella was the first intern I had personally trained. I poured my heart into mentoring her. When she made mistakes, I took the blame. When she needed a win, I put her name on my successful deals. When Chloe was promoted, Stella was the first to buy her flowers. And when I left today, she didn’t even look up from her screen. I thought she was just scared of Chloe’s reaction. But now I saw her true colors. Well, this made things easier. If we ever met in the business world again, I wouldn’t have to let personal feelings get in the way of crushing her. After I got home, I muted all work contacts and turned my phone to ‘Do Not Disturb.’ For ten years, I had skipped meals and lost sleep for this company. My friends told me to relax, and my family told me to stop being so stubborn. Finally, I was free. For the next few days, I didn’t look for a job. I needed to breathe and actually experience life. Occasionally, I would see updates about the company through mutual acquaintances. It was always Chloe buying the team boba, Chloe treating them to lunch, and so on. These posts were always uploaded right at 6:00 PM, almost as if they were trying to prove a point to me. I ignored them. Until Friday arrived, and the social media updates suddenly went dead silent.

I woke up on Friday morning to forty-five missed calls and countless urgent text messages. Most of them were from managers of other departments. [Aria, the marketing proposal is a mess. Call me back immediately!] [The client is demanding an emergency meeting. We need you to handle this.] [Where are you?] Even the CEO, Richard, had called me from Europe. Clearly, they had no idea I had been fired. When I picked up Richard’s next call, his voice boomed through the speaker. “Aria! Why aren’t you answering your phone during business hours? Do I pay you a top-tier salary so you can go on vacation whenever you want?” “The other department heads are complaining to me! The entire sales department is in absolute chaos!” “And what happened with Eleanor Vance? We were about to sign the contract, and now she’s pulling out because she says our new proposal is ‘garbage’!” “You’ve never made a mistake like this in ten years. Have you lost your mind the moment I left the country?” I waited for him to take a breath. “Mr. Davis, actually, I no longer—” He cut me off instantly. “I don’t care what excuse you have! Get back to the office right now and fix this mess!” He slammed the phone down. When I tried to call back, it went straight to voicemail. My phone rang all day, but I didn’t answer. By evening, a friend from another department filled me in on the drama. Apparently, after I left, the sales department fell apart. Chloe’s “elite team” was just a bunch of pampered college graduates who had no practical experience. Without me directing them, they had no idea how to execute a project. When a major client demanded a revised proposal, they couldn’t produce one, so they simply resubmitted an old draft with a few words changed. The client was insulted and blacklisted the company on the spot. Chloe, who usually rolled into the office at 10:00 AM, completely panicked when she heard the news. She lost her “sweet, modern boss” persona and screamed at everyone. My friend sent me a leaked video of the office. Chloe’s voice was screeching: “I give you guys perks! I let you go home early! And this is how you repay me?” “Why is the proposal not ready? Why did we lose the account? Are you all completely useless?” “Nobody goes home tonight! You will sleep in this office until this is fixed!” My friend texted: “Aria, you should have seen their faces. They were stunned. And Chloe got ripped apart by the board of directors for over an hour. She came out of the meeting crying.” Fixing a crisis like that required years of client data and industry experience—things Chloe couldn’t learn overnight. Without me, they were sinking. At 8:00 PM, I posted a photo of a freshly baked lemon cake on my Instagram. “Rainy days are perfect for baking and sleeping in.” I wasn’t a saint. They had humiliated me when I left, and I wasn’t about to play the hero now. Soon, a comment popped up from one of my former team members: “Aria, we finally realize how much you did for us.” It was deleted thirty seconds later. The next morning, everyone in the sales department shared Chloe’s late-night Instagram post. It was posted at 1:00 AM: “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger! Rising above the challenges!” I chuckled and closed the app to update my resume. Just then, Stella called me. After a moment of hesitation, I answered. There was silence on the other end for a long time, followed by soft, muffled crying. “Aria…” she sobbed. “Can you… can you please come to the office?” I didn’t hesitate. “No, Stella.” She sounded shocked by my cold tone. After all, I used to protect her no matter what. “Please, Aria. If you don’t come, I’m going to get fired.” I smiled. “Well, let me see what’s going on then.” I hung up and called an Uber. I wanted to see exactly how she was going to get fired.

As soon as I walked into the lobby of the office building, I felt the heavy atmosphere. I stepped into the elevator and bumped into Richard, who had just returned from his flight, along with several board members. I nodded politely. “Aria, I hear Chloe has been doing a fantastic job lately?” Marcus Sterling, one of the senior board members, asked me. Before I could speak, I felt Richard shooting a warning glare at me from behind Marcus. “Actually, Mr. Sterling, I haven’t been at the office, so I wouldn’t know,” I replied smoothly. “If you want to know how she’s doing, you should see for yourself.” Marcus nodded. “Chloe is a bright girl,” Richard chimed in quickly, trying to control the narrative. “Aria was out for a few days, and things got a bit messy, but Chloe stepped up and saved the day. In fact, we are about to sign a major contract with Mr. Arthur King from Star Media today!” Star Media was the biggest player in our industry. I had dealt with Arthur King before. He was notoriously difficult and extremely strict. The only reason we had even reached the contract stage was because I had spent weeks studying his preferences, addressing every possible risk before he could even ask. “And,” Richard added proudly, “Chloe’s elite team of young graduates is incredibly capable. I’m planning to have them run parallel to Aria’s team to foster some healthy competition.” I mentally rolled my eyes. He wanted us to do all the heavy lifting while his niece took the credit. I was so glad I left. Ten years of loyalty, and this was how I was treated. “What do you think, Aria?” Richard asked, testing me. I smiled. “Mr. Davis, you might not know this, but I actually—” The elevator doors opened. “Let’s talk in the conference room,” Richard interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “We need to sign the contract with Mr. King first. Aria, come with us. Watch and learn.” I didn’t get a chance to object before they ushered me down the hall. When we entered the conference room, Stella saw me and let out a massive sigh of relief. Chloe, however, sneered. “Why is Aria here? Did you finally realize you have nowhere else to go and come back to beg for your job?” The board members’ faces fell instantly. “Who are you talking to?” Marcus asked, his tone sharp. Richard jumped in, sweating. “This is my niece, Chloe. She’s young and sometimes speaks without thinking. Please don’t mind her.” Marcus glared at him. “Aria is the pillar of this department. Frankly, keeping her just in sales is a waste of her talent. You should treat her with respect.” Chloe froze, not daring to say another word as she shrank into the corner. A few minutes later, Arthur King arrived. When he saw me, he smiled and walked over to shake my hand. “Aria! I heard from Eleanor Vance that you had resigned, so I was actually planning to cancel our meeting today. But your team assured me you were still working here. I’m glad it was just a rumor.” I looked at Stella. She looked back at me with pleading, desperate eyes. So that was her plan. She wanted to use my name to secure the deal, and then take the credit. I looked away from her and faced Arthur. “Mr. King, you didn’t hear a rumor,” I said clearly. “I was indeed laid off by our new Director, Ms. Chloe Davis.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442735”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The night Ethan won the NCAA Championship, he celebrated by kissing the head cheerleader in front of the entire arena. Everyone waited for me to lose my mind. Instead, I was wearing his teammate Logan’s jersey, lying in his bed. Later, I became Logan’s girlfriend. Ethan didn’t realize he’d lost me until it was too late. When he finally saw us together, he crushed a whiskey glass in his bare hand, his eyes red with regret. “Chloe… you were supposed to be mine.” The final buzzer sounded, and the entire ice arena erupted into chaos. Ethan was about to confess his love to that gorgeous cheerleader. He had warned his teammates beforehand, making sure everyone kept me in the dark. What he didn’t know was that some drama-loving bystander had already DM’d me the whole plan on Snapchat. After all, everyone on the varsity hockey team knew I was head over heels for Ethan. My biggest dream was to be his girlfriend. So, the moment Ethan fell in love at first sight and confessed to another girl… I was supposed to rush down to the ice, crying, screaming, and making a total fool of myself. The crowd in the stands was practically drooling, waiting for me to lose my mind and crash the party. Too bad for them. Even after their high-profile kiss ended, I still hadn’t shown up. The crowd outside the rink started to lose interest when no drama happened. Even Ethan’s face didn’t look all that happy. He wrapped his arm around his new girlfriend and pulled out his phone. Not a single call. Not a single text. Ethan frowned slightly. He slid his phone away and held the trophy high above his head. “Tonight, we celebrate! Afterparty at the bar, on me!” The players and students in the arena instantly cheered. I pushed open the glass door of the players’ tunnel and walked out. Someone with sharp eyes spotted me and immediately yelled. “Look, it’s Chloe! Chloe’s here!” “I knew it! There’s no way Chloe could resist coming!” Ethan snapped his head up. The moment he saw me, the corners of his lips twitched into a smug, barely noticeable smirk. I ignored the crowd waiting for a show. With Logan’s jacket barely covering my thighs, I walked straight up to Ethan. “Chloe.” Ethan, still in his full hockey gear, held the trophy in one hand and pulled his new girlfriend tighter with the other. He looked down at me, his voice flat. “You can’t force feelings.” “We’ve known each other for over ten years, and I don’t want to say anything too harsh to ruin our history. We can still be friends.” “If you ever need help, you can still come to me.” Then, he lowered his voice, leaning in: “Everyone is watching. Don’t make a scene. Go home.” “Go home and change. What the hell are you even wearing?” “Ethan.” I cut him off, taking a slow step forward. He frowned again. “Chloe, be reasonable.” I smiled, pulled out my phone, pulled up a billing page, and turned the screen toward him. “This is the money I advanced for your custom hockey sticks and protective gear.” I stared straight into his eyes. “Pay me back. Now.” Ethan’s face instantly darkened as he stared at the screen. “Chloe, what kind of game are you playing now?” “You really will do anything to get my attention, won’t you? Digging up old receipts?” Ethan stared at me, convinced I was just throwing a tantrum. “I don’t care about this pocket change. If you’re that desperate for money, I’ll Venmo you double.” He pulled out his phone. “No need for double. Just the original amount is fine.” “I’m blocking you after this.” “From now on, your new girlfriend can handle all your annoying chores.” With that, I didn’t give him another glance. I turned around and walked away.

Ethan stood frozen on the ice until my figure vanished from sight. His face was still incredibly tense. His teammates quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Man, Chloe is just trying to save face. Don’t take it seriously.” “Trust me, Ethan, she’ll regret this before the night is over.” “She’ll probably come crawling back to you crying tonight.” Ethan let out a cold laugh. “Let her play her games.” “If we hadn’t grown up together, I wouldn’t have tolerated her for this long.” “Alright, alright, don’t let her ruin the mood. We won the championship tonight, let’s party!” Ethan looked at the hot cheerleader next to him. He quickly threw my annoying face to the back of his mind. He knew that by tomorrow’s training session, I would show up like nothing had happened. I would be sitting in the very front row. Holding water and a towel, waiting like a puppy for him to finish practice. He had seen this exact script play out way too many times over the years. By the time I walked out of the arena, the rain was pouring. I stood under my umbrella, thinking about the terrifying nightmares I had been having lately. In those dreams, because Ethan confessed to Brianna… I threw a massive fit. To force him to break up with her, I ran out onto the highway in the middle of the night. And what happened? I was hit by a speeding SUV. I broke two ribs and almost died. Ethan only stayed at the hospital for five minutes before leaving me. They forced me to drop out of college and sent me back to my alcoholic parents. In the end, I died miserably in a trashy, run-down apartment. And after I died, the one who came to collect my broken body was actually the man I had always avoided and feared. Ethan never showed up. Not once. Over the past few days, everything from those nightmares had started coming true. If it weren’t for those warnings, I would have thrown my umbrella away by now, spam-calling Ethan’s phone, ready to throw another suicidal tantrum on the road. I was so grateful for those dreams. It felt like a second chance at life. I could finally rewrite my miserable fate, step by step. On my third try, the call finally went through. I gripped my phone tightly, pressing it to my ear. The name *Logan Vance* lingered on the tip of my tongue before I slowly spoke it aloud. The heavy rain drowned out the noise of the world. Through the receiver, Logan’s deep, slightly tired voice came through. “Chloe?” “Logan, it’s raining so hard.” “I’m stuck outside the arena. Can you come pick me up?”

The other end went dead silent for a few seconds. I gripped the umbrella handle so hard my palm began to sweat. In my dream, when Logan collected my body, he cried. A man who was absolutely ruthless on the ice rink had cried like a baby for the first time. Later, he changed his jersey number to my birthday, stepped over Ethan, and climbed to the absolute peak of the professional league. My eyes welled up with tears, and a small sob escaped my throat. “Why are you crying?” Logan’s voice suddenly cut through. It was still cold, even slightly impatient. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t come.” “When will you be here?” “Wait there. Twenty minutes.” “Okay. I’ll wait for you, Logan.” He didn’t say another word and hung up. By the time Logan arrived, I was completely soaked. He got out of the car, his thin lips pressed into a tight line, his expression icy. I brushed away my wet bangs and looked up at him with a bright smile. “Logan, you’re so on time.” “Chloe, are you trying to get yourself killed by being this stupid?” With a tense face, he grabbed my arm, shoved me into the passenger seat, and tossed a soft blanket over me. “Dry yourself off. Don’t ruin my car.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror and smoothly put the car in drive. “Oh.” I wrapped myself tightly in the blanket like a good girl. I couldn’t help but steal glances at him while he focused on the road. When he had no expression, he always looked incredibly distant and intimidating. Plenty of girls at school liked him, but none of them dared to confess. He and Ethan were not just roommates; they were rivals on the ice. Back then, I used to go to the locker room every single day to bring Ethan milk. Every time I went, Logan looked like he absolutely loathed me, slamming his locker door shut with an icy glare. Even now, though he came to rescue me, he was still acting so cold. When he shoved me into the car earlier, his grip was so tight. My wrist was still throbbing, leaving a faint red mark. It was impossible to tell that this guy had been secretly in love with me for years. Everything in the dream had happened exactly as predicted. But now, because of my changes, the timeline was shifting. Would Logan still love me? If he didn’t actually like me, wouldn’t my sudden behavior just be a massive annoyance to him? “Back to the dorms?” Logan suddenly turned his head to glance at me. My heart skipped a beat, and before I could stop myself, the words slipped out. “No. To your place.” Logan gripped the steering wheel, letting out a mocking chuckle. “Ethan’s having a huge championship party tonight.” “Are you trying to use me to make him jealous?” I gripped the edge of the blanket, twisting it tighter and tighter. “I’m not.” The car suddenly screeched to a halt by the curb. Logan turned his body toward me, the coldness in his eyes making my chest tighten. “Chloe, don’t bring me into whatever sick game you’re playing with him.” “I’m not…” He stared at me for a long second, then pulled out his phone. “I’ll call you an Uber. Go back yourself.” “Logan…” I bit my lip hard, reaching over to snatch his phone away. He stared at me, but his eyes didn’t hold anger or disgust. Instead, they were incredibly dark, swirling with emotions he was trying to hide. Suddenly, a wave of sadness washed over me. “Logan, I don’t want to go back to the dorms. Everyone is laughing at me.” “And I’m scared to go home.” “Can you… can you just let me stay at your off-campus apartment for tonight?” I hid his phone behind my back, my voice growing softer and softer. “I won’t bother you. I’m just… my clothes are completely soaked.” The moment I finished speaking, tears rolled down my cheeks. One by one, silent and heavy. Logan didn’t say another word to me. But he started the car again. He drove toward his apartment.

I followed Logan into his apartment. He walked over to his closet, pulled out a clean training jersey, and tossed it to me. “Bathroom’s over there.” He was tall, so his jersey was massive on me. It barely covered my thighs. After my shower, I threw the jersey on and walked out. Logan took one look at me and immediately averted his eyes. I walked over to his bed and sat down. My damp, long hair dripped, quickly wetting his sheets. I smelled completely like Logan now—his shampoo, his body wash. In this small, enclosed space, a thick, unspoken tension began to brew. Logan grabbed his pack of cigarettes and cleared his throat. “I’m going out for a smoke.” He walked out onto the balcony. I looked around his room with curiosity. Light gray sheets, neat and clean. A black gear bag sat half-open in the corner. Just as I was about to look at the trinkets on his desk, my phone suddenly rang. Ethan’s name flashed on the screen. I didn’t pick up. He immediately called again. I had blocked him on Snapchat, but I had forgotten to block his actual number. I quickly blocked his number too and threw my phone back into my bag. “Logan.” I called out toward the balcony. He quickly turned around, stubbed out his cigarette, and walked back in. “What?” I sat on the bed, having to tilt my head up to look at him. Logan locked eyes with me for two seconds before looking away again. But I noticed the tips of his ears were turning a faint shade of red. “I got your bed wet. What should I do?” He glanced at me, then down at the oversized jersey clinging to my damp body. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. He turned around and grabbed a towel, tossing it to me. “Dry it. It’ll be fine.” With that, he turned to grab the hairdryer from the living room. I held the towel, thinking about how his ears had just flushed, and couldn’t help but smile. “Can you dry it for me? My hands are tired.” He stared at me for a few seconds, eventually giving in. With one hand holding the hairdryer, he gently pulled at my collar to reach my back. The jersey’s collar was already too wide. As he pulled, the fabric slid down, exposing a large portion of my bare shoulder. I clearly felt Logan freeze. “Where are you going?” He pulled back his chair, not even turning around. “To the gym room to work out.” “Oh.” I sat on his bed, feeling a bit let down. Logan grabbed his headphones, but before he could put them on, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, shot me a look, and pressed answer. “Ethan. What’s up?” My chest tightened, and I subconsciously held my breath. “Yeah, I’m at my apartment.” “You said someone saw Chloe coming here?” Logan turned around to look at me again. “I—” Before he could finish, I jumped off the bed. I strode over, climbed onto his lap, and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. As Logan tried to push me away, I pressed my lips against his ear. “Logan, tell him I’m not here.” My body was pressed flush against his chest. In an instant, Logan’s body heat flared, burning hot. I could see the veins on his neck bulging slightly. His Adam’s apple rolled violently, and his heart was hammering against his ribs. I looked up at him, and he stared down at me. Deep in his eyes, a dark, heavy desire began to pool. “No, they saw wrong.” “She’s not my girlfriend. We aren’t close.” Logan spoke into the phone and hung up immediately. He tossed the phone aside, his long fingers gripping my waist tightly through the thin jersey. He pulled me flush against him. I could feel the hard, heat of his body. My mind went completely blank, and my first instinct was to pull away. But Logan only held me tighter. “Chloe.” His voice was incredibly husky. His hot breath fanned over my ear and neck. I shrank back, trying to dodge, but his lips slammed down onto mine. “Don’t tease me… unless you want to regret it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442728”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

1 I had been back with the Smiths for six years when my parents and fiancé finally decided I had grown up. In the family group chat, Mom sent a voice message: “Diana, about the house we bought for your wedding—Samantha really loved it, so we’re giving it to her.” “When you get back, Dad and I will pick out another one for you.” Dad was quick to chime in: “Samantha is just recovering from her depression. She can’t handle any stress right now. Don’t fight her on this.” I replied instantly: “Okay, Mom and Dad. Samantha’s health is the most important thing. I can live anywhere.” Then, a notification popped up. A cash gift from Oliver. “Good girl, Diana. The day after tomorrow is your birthday. I’m picking you up from the airport, and I’m going to throw you the grandest birthday and engagement party ever!” What they didn’t know was… I had died three years ago. The obedient, understanding daughter and gentle, considerate fiancée replying to their messages… Was just an AI I had trained before I died. The day I was diagnosed with terminal bone cancer, I was less than twenty-four hours away from my eighteenth birthday. The doctor held up my X-rays, his eyes filled with a pity that made my stomach churn. “A month, at most.” I sat in the sterile exam room, staring down at my lower leg. For the past six months, the pain had grown sharper, more frequent. I thought they were just growing pains. I didn’t know my bones were dying. The doctor kept talking—transferring hospitals, chemotherapy options, forms my family needed to sign. I tuned it all out. I carefully folded the diagnosis report, slipped it into the pocket of my school uniform, and walked out of the hospital, step by step. It was a forty-minute walk from the hospital to the Smith estate. Three bus stops. I chose to walk. I needed the time. I wanted to cry out all my tears on the way and figure out exactly what to say. “Mom. Dad. I’m sick.” Just that one sentence. I spent fifteen years in the orphanage. I had never called anyone “Mom” or “Dad” before. And in the three years since I returned to the Smiths, I never learned how to act spoiled or ask for affection. But this time, I wanted to try. Maybe they would hug me. The way they hugged Samantha. My fingers curled around the crumpled paper in my pocket, and I walked faster, practically jogging the last few blocks. The moment I pushed open the front door, the rich scent of vanilla buttercream washed over me. A huge banner hung across the living room: “CONGRATULATIONS TO SAMANTHA SMITH ON WINNING GOLD AT THE NATIONAL YOUTH TECH AWARDS!” Samantha was sitting between Mom and Dad, clutching a gleaming trophy, her eyes crinkling into half-moons as she laughed. I froze in the doorway. The title of the winning project engraved on that trophy… I knew it. I knew it all too well. For the past three months, I had barely slept. From the initial concept to the final debugging—thirty thousand lines of code. I wrote every single one of them. When the pain in my leg became unbearable, I would bite down on a towel until it passed. Just get through it, I had told myself. It was the same thing I told myself back in the orphanage, when I burned with a 104-degree fever in the dead of winter and no one noticed. I used to fantasize about the day I won that award. I thought my parents would finally be proud of me. But now, the name engraved beneath my project was Samantha’s. Dad saw me first. His smile faltered for a second, and he cleared his throat. “Diana, you’re back? Come here, your sister won a huge award. We’re celebrating tonight.” I didn’t move. “That’s mine.” The living room fell dead silent. Samantha’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. She lowered the trophy, her bottom lip quivering in that perfect, pitiful way she always mastered. She didn’t have to say a word. Her tears did all the talking. Mom let out a heavy sigh, walking over to me and lowering her voice. “Diana, Samantha just found out she’s adopted. Her depression is flaring up, and she’s been crying every day.” “She feels so insecure in this house, and her grades aren’t great. She needs this college recommendation.” “You’re different. You’re so smart. You’ll get into a top school anyway.” I could hear my teeth grinding together. It wasn’t out of anger. It was the agonizing, gnawing pain in my bones flaring up again, so sharp I had to clench my jaw just to stay standing. I turned my gaze to Oliver. He was standing next to Samantha, a glass of juice in his hand. His brows pulled together in a slight frown. “Diana, you already have everything.” “You’re their biological daughter, you have your parents’ love, and you have me.” “Samantha has nothing. Just… have some pity on her.” He paused, then added: “Grow up.” 2 I stared at his face. Three years ago, in this exact same living room… He had knelt down to tie my shoelaces, looking up at me with a warm smile. “Diana, as long as I’m here, no one will ever bully you.” That was the first time in my life I had ever tasted what it felt like to be protected. I guess his definition of “no one” didn’t include himself. A metallic taste rose in the back of my throat. I swallowed it down. “Okay.” Mom exhaled, visibly relieved. Oliver’s frown smoothed out. Dad wiped away Samantha’s tears, cooing at her until she smiled again. The diagnosis report lay quietly in my pocket. No one asked where I had been all day. No one noticed I was limping. I stood by the door for a moment longer, then quietly went upstairs. I booted up my laptop, created a new folder, and named it: “AI_Diana_Behavior_Training_Data.” I sat there for a long time before typing the first line. “She never cries.” “She always says ‘okay,’ ‘it doesn’t matter,’ ‘whatever you decide is fine.’” “She never fights for anything. She never argues. She never makes them uncomfortable.” “She loves them. She understands them. She thinks they are always right.” Laughter drifted up from the living room. I heard Samantha thanking Mom and Dad. Her voice was soft, sweet, dripping with the confidence of someone who knows they are loved. I kept typing. The pain in my leg surged in waves. Whenever it hit, I would stop, wait for it to pass, and keep going. One month. That was enough. Enough to train the perfect daughter. The perfect fiancée. The Diana they had always wanted. My birthday was exactly the same day as Samantha’s. But to make up for taking my award, my parents promised to celebrate mine separately. I wore my first-ever princess dress. It was pale pink, the skirt shimmering with sequins like crushed stars. Mom picked it out herself. She had told me: “Diana, everything we owe you for the past eighteen years, Mom remembers.” They rented out an entire amusement park just for me. The entrance archway was suffocated with balloons, and a huge cutout of my face stood at the gate. Across the top, it read: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIANA.” I smiled. I smiled so hard I almost cried. Oliver stepped up behind me and covered my eyes with his hands. “No peeking. There’s another surprise.” His hands were so warm. Maybe they do love me, I thought. They just don’t know how to divide it. When they wheeled the cake out, my knees nearly buckled. Six tiers. Each tier represented a stage of my life. The bottom layer said “0-3 Years.” The top layer said “18.” Mom said: “Every birthday you missed in that orphanage, Mom is giving back to you today.” Eighteen candles flickered to life. The golden light danced across the smiling faces of my parents and Oliver. I clasped my hands together, closed my eyes, and made a wish. I wish this moment would never end. The very next second— A piercing scream echoed from the carousel. Samantha was sprawled on the ground, blood oozing from a scrape on her knee. She was trembling, sobbing uncontrollably. “It hurts…” The candles were still burning. But no one was looking at me anymore. Dad bolted toward her first, bumping into the cake table in his panic. The towering six-tier cake tipped over, half of it collapsing into a ruined mess of frosting. Oliver sprinted to Samantha’s side, shucking off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. I reached out and grabbed Mom’s sleeve. She was the only one still standing near me. “Mom.” I heard my own voice trembling. “Today is my eighteenth birthday.” “It’s my last one.” “Could you… could you just stay while I blow out the candles?” Mom didn’t even hear me. Her eyes were locked on Samantha. Dad hurried back to grab the car keys. He caught the end of my sentence, and his face darkened. “Your sister is hurt, and all you care about is a birthday party?” “Do you have zero empathy?” 3 He shoved me aside. I hit the ground hard. My left leg slammed against the edge of the stone steps. It felt like someone was driving a rusted nail straight into the marrow and prying it open. God, it hurt. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. They were already carrying Samantha to the car. The amusement park was massive. With it completely rented out, I was the only person left. I dragged myself over to a giant stuffed bear, curling into its plush arms, and pulled out my phone. I booted up the AI testing program. A message popped up in the family group chat. Sent by “me.” “Mom, Dad, Oliver, take Samantha to the doctor! Don’t worry about me, I’m having so much fun at the park by myself.” Mom sent a voice memo back: “You’ve really grown up, Diana. Once Samantha is all bandaged up, we’ll come right back to celebrate with you.” Dad sent a thumbs-up emoji: “That’s my girl.” I stared at the screen, the corner of my mouth twitching in a hollow imitation of a smile. Muscle memory made me open Instagram. The newest post on my feed. From Samantha. It was a picture of her sitting in the ER, surrounded by people. Dad, Mom, Oliver. The caption read: “It feels so good to be loved.” Oliver was the first to comment: “Be more careful next time.” A sickening sweetness rose in my throat, and I violently turned my head. The blood splattered across the pink princess dress. The cake was ruined, the candles had burned down to stubs, but the speakers were still playing that cheerful music. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. The sky began to bruise purple and black. The park lights flickered on, one by one. In the distance, the Ferris wheel turned slow and steady. It was beautiful. I had never been on one. My phone buzzed again. The AI had sent another message to the group chat: “I’m on the Ferris wheel! It’s so high up! Mom, I’m so happy!” One teardrop after another fell onto the screen. Blurring out the heart emoji Mom replied with. They never came back. At eleven that night, I took a cab home alone. The living room lights were on. On the dining table, a note was scribbled in Mom’s handwriting: “Samantha fractured her leg. She’s admitted to the hospital, so your dad and I are staying with her. There’s food in the fridge, heat it up yourself.” I pulled open the fridge. It was leftovers from the night before. The massive feast they had cooked to celebrate Samantha’s gold medal, barely touched. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. In the family chat, Dad was spamming photos of Samantha’s hospital room. A private VIP suite, the windowsill overflowing with extravagant bouquets. Mom was peeling an apple for her. Oliver stood by the bed, his arms full of unopened gifts. Samantha’s cheeks were flushed pink as she tore into them, one by one. I locked my screen, leaning heavily against the wall as I dragged myself up the stairs to the second floor. The blood on the princess dress had dried into stiff, dark flakes. I folded it neatly and shoved it under my pillow. Then I lay down, squeezed my eyes shut. And pretended I had a wonderful birthday. At 2 AM, the pain ripped me awake. It felt like a million ants were burrowing into the cracks of my bones, gnawing the marrow into dust, bite by agonizing bite. I didn’t scream. In the orphanage, crying was useless. Screaming was useless. No one ever came. I rolled off the bed. Using my arms, I dragged my useless legs across the floor toward the desk. Three yards. It took me four minutes. I yanked the drawer open. Empty. The heavy-duty painkillers I had spent all my savings on were gone. There had only been ten pills left. I had been rationing them, only swallowing one when the pain pushed me to the absolute edge of sanity. Now, there were none. My phone lit up. A message from Mom, sent three hours ago. “Diana, Samantha’s fracture hurts so much she’s crying nonstop. I saw you had a bottle of painkillers in your drawer, so I gave them to her for now.” “Just go buy yourself another bottle tomorrow.” She ended it with a hug emoji. The AI had already replied. “Okay, Mom. Samantha is frail, let her have them. I’m perfectly healthy, don’t worry about me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “515791”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel