Category: English

My parents drove three hours to spend Thanksgiving with us. I welcomed them at the door, my heart full of warmth, only for my wife, Beth, to greet them with a polite, distant, “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Shepard.” My parents’ joyful smiles instantly froze. I couldn’t even count how many times we had stood in this exact, suffocating silence. We had been married for five years, and in all that time, she had only called them “Mom” and “Dad” once. That was during our wedding vows, when the cameras were rolling and the pressure was on. After that, she either avoided addressing them altogether or fell back on those stiff, formal titles. Beth offered a weak, apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry, Jackie. It’s just a habit. I keep forgetting to adjust.” My smile faded. She had called her ex-husband’s parents “Mom” and “Dad” for three years. We had been married for five, and she still couldn’t accept my family. For the past three years, she had continued to look after her ex-husband’s parents. She visited them, called them her real family, and treated them with a warmth she never showed my parents. She constantly “forgot” my parents’ dietary restrictions, buying them expensive seafood dinners they couldn’t eat because of their allergies. And whenever she gave my parents gifts, they were always cheap, thoughtless afterthoughts—often duplicates of the high-end presents she carefully curated for her ex’s family. My mother swallowed her disappointment, trying to rescue the heavy atmosphere. She lifted an insulated carrier. “It’s okay, sweetie. Look, I made your favorite homemade pumpkin rolls and kept them warm the whole drive. I made sure to bring the flavors both of you love.” I reached out and gently took my mother’s hand. No. I wasn’t going to let it go this time. … Beth assumed the tension would blow over, just like it always did. She relaxed, turning on her heel to head to the living room to watch TV. I stepped in front of her, blocking her path. I needed an answer. “Is it really that hard for you to call them Mom and Dad?” I asked, my voice flat. Beth’s brows knit together. Perhaps she wanted to avoid a scene in front of my parents, or perhaps she felt a fleeting pang of guilt. With agonizing effort, she looked at my parents and forced out, “Mom… Dad.” It sounded hollow. Empty. When you haven’t actually accepted someone into your heart, calling them your parents feels like a performance. It makes you feel like a fraud. Seeing the look on my face, Beth softened her tone. “Jackie, I honestly just didn’t think. It was a slip of the tongue.” An endless cycle of apologies, with zero change. What was the point of an apology like that? My mind drifted back to our wedding day. During the family reception, when it was time to toast our parents, Beth had suddenly gone rigid. I didn’t know what she was thinking then. I only remembered how eagerly I had knelt before her parents, handing them their glasses and calling them Mom and Dad with a genuine smile. But when Beth held the glass out to my parents, she hesitated for what felt like an eternity. When she finally spoke, the words were a barely audible whisper. Even then, she had to fight herself to say it. She had never truly accepted my parents as her family. To this day, her phone didn’t even have them saved under names—just their bare phone numbers. Whenever my mother called her, Beth never picked up. If I asked, she was always “too busy.” If I pressed further, she claimed she thought it was a spam call. They say a daughter-in-law is supposed to be like a second daughter. But to Beth, my parents ranked lower than the local delivery guy. My family had a massive group chat on iMessage. It was a typical close-knit family thread where we shared daily updates, planned holidays, and kept in touch. I had invited her to join dozens of times. She always found a way to ignore the invite. “Oh, I forgot. Send it again, Jackie,” she would say. But when I sent it again, she would let the invitation expire. Sometimes my aunts and uncles would ask me, “Why isn’t Beth in the family chat?” I never knew what to say. I would swallow my embarrassment and lie, telling them she was buried under work and would join next time. But the truth was simple. She didn’t want to be a part of my family. She had already chosen her family long ago, and she had no intention of severing those ties, even after her divorce. A sudden, sharp sting pricked the corners of my eyes. Some things should have been obvious to me a long time ago. My parents stayed for barely an hour before quietly making their excuses to leave, squeezing my shoulder and telling me to take care of myself. After they left, I sent Beth one more invitation to the family group chat. Twenty-four hours went by. The invitation remained pending. In the middle of the night, unable to sleep, I watched her phone screen light up on the nightstand. I picked it up and bypassed the lock screen. Pinned to the top of her messages were three group chats. One was with her own parents. The other was with her ex-husband, Derek, and his parents. The messages in that chat jumped constantly, filled with inside jokes, photos, and casual updates. They bantered and laughed as if they were still a perfect, unbroken family. I lay awake in the dark for the rest of the night. Two weeks later, we attended a family dinner at her parents’ house. The moment I saw her mother and father, I smiled politely and said, “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Lawson.” I watched the color drain from Beth’s face, inch by inch. The moment we stepped out of her parents’ house and got into the car, she exploded. “Did you really have to do that?” she yelled, her chest heaving with rage. “I made a simple mistake with your parents, and you retaliated by humiliating mine? Did you even consider how they would feel?” I wrenched my hands free from her grip, my skin red where she had grabbed me. “Yes, I had to! If you’re so worried about your parents’ feelings, what about mine? What about my parents? I gave you five years, Beth. Five years. Not five days, not five weeks, not five months.” Those excuses of hers were a joke, and she was the only one buying them. She wasn’t stupid. Nobody “forgets” who their in-laws are for half a decade. In the middle of our shouting match, Beth’s phone rang loudly. Instantly, her expression transformed. The anger vanished, replaced by an urgent, tender concern. She swiped the screen and answered with practiced warmth. “Mom? What’s wrong?” The voice on the other end didn’t belong to her mother. It was Derek’s mother. Beth nodded rapidly, her face pale. “Don’t worry, I’m coming right now. No, it’s no trouble at all. Your emergencies are my emergencies.” Without a single glance at me, completely ignoring the fight we were in the middle of, she turned and walked away to hail a cab. I stood under the streetlights, my fingernails biting deep into my palms. Beth always put them first. Our holidays were constantly interrupted, our plans canceled, our lives put on hold for whatever minor crisis Derek’s family was having. Even during our most intimate moments, she would ruin it. Once, right in the middle of making love, she had abruptly pulled away and sat up. “I have to go. Mom and Dad need me. Something happened.” I had sat there in our dark bedroom, naked and frozen, assuming she meant her own parents. I had told her to go, telling her I understood. Only later did I find out that the “Mom and Dad” she rushed to rescue were Derek’s parents. The bitterness in my chest bloomed into a dull, throbbing ache. Just last month, when my own mother was hospitalized, I had to go out of town on an urgent business trip. I had begged Beth to look after her. Beth had promised she would. But when I called the hospital, my mother sounded incredibly lonely. Later, when I returned and checked the hospital’s security footage, I discovered Beth had stayed for less than ten minutes. During those ten minutes, she had stared at her phone, barely acknowledging my mother. My mother, weak and pale in her hospital bed, had desperately tried to start a conversation. “Beth, would you like some fruit?” “Beth, are you very busy at work?” Beth hadn’t even noticed when my mother’s IV bag ran empty. It was my mother who had to painfully stretch her arm across the bed to press the call button herself. That night, when I visited, my mother had looked at me with silent, tearful eyes. Parents can always sense when they are despised. My mother didn’t understand what she had done to deserve her daughter-in-law’s coldness. She blamed herself, worrying she was a burden to our marriage. No matter how much I asked, she never uttered a single word of complaint to me. It was my fault. I was weak. I had allowed my parents to endure five years of quiet humiliation and neglect. When Derek left the country to chase his artistic dreams in Europe, Beth had stepped in to act as his proxy, taking care of his parents as if she were their dutiful daughter-in-law. It was laughable. What about me? What about my family? I looked down at the organic root extracts and Epsom salts sitting on our kitchen counter. Her father had chronic back pain, and her mother suffered from severe joint inflammation. For five years, whenever they came over, they dumped these raw ingredients on me. “You’re young and strong, Jackie. You can grind these down easily. We’re too old for this.” “We don’t trust store-bought rubs. It’s better when you hand-mix them. We know we can trust you to do it right.” Beth had watched me work, offering a patronizing smirk. “Well, at least you’re getting good at it.” My eyes filled with tears as I looked at the rough calluses on my palms, the dry skin that always snagged on the threads of my clothes. She poured all her energy into taking care of her ex’s parents, while shifting the burden of her own parents’ care onto my shoulders. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was a voice message from my mother. The background noise in the audio was deafening—sirens, shouting, horns honking. I had to press the phone tight against my ear to hear her trembling voice. “Jackie… I got into a car accident. A woman backed into me, and now she’s screaming at me, making a huge scene…” Forgetting about Beth, forgetting about the herbs, I grabbed my keys and ran out the door. When I arrived at the scene, I immediately pushed through the crowd and shielded my mother behind my back. The woman standing opposite her had a face I recognized all too well. She had her hands on her hips, her eyes rimmed with red. “She’s the one who hit me!” the woman wailed, pointing a shaking finger at my mother. “You’re only bullying me because my son is in Europe! I was just walking across the parking lot, and she ran right into me!” Seeing that another shouting match was about to start, the police officers stepped in and escorted everyone to the local precinct. Half an hour later, the heavy glass doors of the station flew open. Beth’s frantic voice echoed through the lobby. “Mom!” My mother turned around, thinking her daughter-in-law had come to support her, and instinctively took a step forward. But Beth ran straight past her. She threw her arms around Derek’s mother, checking her frantically from head to toe. “Mom, are you hurt? Tell me where it hurts. I want to see who dared to touch you.” My mother froze, her hand still half-raised in the air. Beth didn’t even notice. When she finally looked up and saw us sitting across the room, a flicker of panic crossed her eyes, but she quickly masked it. We were brought into the mediation room. Looking at Beth, my mother seemed to finally understand why her daughter-in-law had never been able to call her “Mom.” Her fingers began to tremble. For five years, she had swallowed her pride, treating Beth like her own daughter, thinking she just needed time. Now, the brutal truth was laid bare. The officers showed us the security footage. The angle was awkward, and it was hard to tell who was at fault in the crowded parking lot. My mother looked exhausted and deeply shaken. I wanted nothing more than to get her out of that toxic room, so I agreed to a mutual settlement and signed the paperwork. Beth tried to say something to me, but Derek’s mother pulled her away, and Beth chose to go with her. “Mom, let’s get you to a doctor to make sure you’re okay,” Beth whispered tenderly as they walked out. The only thing left for my mother and me was the smell of exhaust fumes in the cold air. I wrapped my arms around my mother, my tears spilling onto her shoulder. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I was so stupid.” I had been so naive. When we got married, I had hidden the depth of Beth’s attachment to her ex-husband from my parents. I knew they would worry, that their old-school values would make them skeptical of a marriage with so much baggage. But I had thrown myself into the fire for love. I had trusted Beth. I believed she was different. I should have listened to my parents. My father, who had arrived late, stood in the corner of the room. He let out a long, heavy sigh. “You foolish boy,” he said quietly. “How could you keep something like this from us?” But when they saw the state I was in, my parents didn’t scold me further. They stood by me, united. “Get a divorce,” my father said, his voice firm. “This isn’t a marriage. You need to end this.” Sometimes, the wrong choices in life simply have to be corrected. I was planning to go find Beth to hand her the papers, but she came to our house first. Before I could even speak, she barged through the door. She looked at my mother, her mouth opening and closing, still unable to utter the word “Mom.” “Did… did either of you pick up an antique gold locket at the police station?” Beth demanded, her voice breathless with anxiety. “It was a family heirloom Derek gave her. Mrs. Howard is losing her mind. She can’t lose that locket.” My mother’s face flushed with anger. “No! If we had found it, we would have handed it to the police. Why didn’t she mention it while we were at the station?” Beth ignored the explanation. “She says it went missing right after the accident. Jackie, you can be mad at me all you want, but you can’t let your parents take out their anger on an innocent old lady.” Take out their anger. Steal. She had already branded my parents as thieves in her mind. I stepped forward and violently shoved Beth back. “Enough! You have zero proof, and you’re coming into my house accusing my mother of theft? Have you completely lost your mind, Beth? My mother didn’t even know who that woman was when the accident happened!” But Beth was blinded by her desperate need to please her ex’s family. “Mrs. Howard saw your mother’s hand brushing against her purse! Jackie… I know your parents come from a small town and aren’t used to nice things, but please, just don’t keep what isn’t yours.” The ugly truth finally slipped out. She had always looked down on us. She thought of herself as a sophisticated city girl, secretly harboring contempt for my working-class, small-town parents. It was pathetic. My mother stood up straight, her spine rigid. She marched over to the entryway, grabbed her purse from the hook, and dumped its contents onto the floor. “I didn’t take a damn thing!” she cried, her voice cracking with humiliation. “If you think I stole it, call the police and have them drag me to jail!” Beth immediately dropped to her knees, frantically searching through the spilled contents. At that moment, her phone rang. It was Derek, calling from Europe. His voice leaked through the speaker, frantic and tearful. “Beth, that locket was the last thing my father bought for my mother before he passed. Please, I beg you, help her find it.” Beth’s expression turned fierce. “I’ll find it, Derek. I promise.” She hung up and glared at my parents. Finally, those words she had withheld for five years came spilling out of her mouth like a weapon. “Dad! Mom! Just give it back! Stop hiding it, or I’m going to start tearing this house apart to find it!” My mother gasped, clutching her chest, nearly fainting from the sheer shock of the accusation. My father’s hands shook with rage. “Beth Lawson,” my father growled. “You’ve looked down on our family from the day you met us, and we stayed quiet for Jackie’s sake. But we will not let you drag our names through the dirt. We don’t want her cheap jewelry!” I grabbed Beth by the arm, pulling her back. “What do you think you’re doing? We told you, we don’t have it!” But Beth ignored me. She pulled out her phone and made a call. Within ten minutes, three of her friends showed up at our door. “Help me search,” Beth commanded them. “Check every room. Don’t leave a single corner untouched.” She had completely lost her mind. This house was my home. Every corner of it was filled with the quiet, happy memories I had tried so hard to build. Beth had no right to do this. She had no right to violate my sanctuary. I tried to block her friends from entering the hallway. “Get out! This is my house, Beth! You have no right to do this!” She grabbed me, pinning my arms to my sides. “Jackie, please. I promise I’ll put everything back exactly how it was. This locket is everything to Derek. Either you tell your parents to hand it over, or I find it myself.” I stared at her, my chest burning with a rage so hot it choked me. “Who do you think we are? Who would steal a cheap locket? We told you, we didn’t take it!” But Beth completely stripped us of our dignity. Her friends began tearing the house apart, dumping drawers, throwing couch cushions, and ransacking our bedrooms. My parents stood in the corner, paralyzed with humiliation. Suddenly, one of Beth’s friends pulled a velvet jewelry box from my mother’s dresser. He opened it and snorted. “Wow. Look at this garbage. Every single piece in here is a cheap knockoff.” My heart stopped. I looked at the box. It contained the jewelry Beth had gifted my mother for birthdays and holidays over the years. They were fakes. Cheap, plastic costume jewelry. Yet every single holiday, I had spent thousands of dollars buying genuine designer pieces for her parents. Her utter contempt for my family was laid bare in that velvet box. With a surge of adrenaline, I ripped myself out of Beth’s grip. I stepped forward and slapped her across the face. “You’re going to pay for this, Beth,” I whispered. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “Yes, hello. I’d like to report a home invasion and illegal search.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “514676”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was only on my deathbed that I learned the truth: my wife hadn’t perished in that tragic shipwreck after all. Instead, she had slipped away across the ocean, living a golden life in a foreign land and growing old with the only man she had ever truly loved—her high school sweetheart. And the boy I had raised as my own, spending every penny of my meager savings to put him through school? While I lay there hooked up to a squeaking monitor, wasting away, he quietly opened our front door and welcomed his mother and her “first love” inside. When I gathered the last of my strength to demand an explanation, my son turned on me with cold indifference. “I’ve always known Mom was alive,” he sneered. “Honestly, you were just suffocating to live with. If you hadn’t forced her to marry you back then, she wouldn’t have had to fake her own death to escape you.” Chloe looked down at me, her eyes holding nothing but a cool, detached pity. She reached into her handbag and pressed a yellowed, folded piece of paper into my trembling palm. It was the frantic cry for help she had written to me decades ago. “Drew, Brody wrote this on your desk as a stupid prank,” she said softly. “I never actually expected you to be foolish enough to throw away your SATs and your scholarship just to come rescue me.” She sighed, a small, weary sound. “But I made it up to you. I married you, didn’t I? I even let you keep Toby with you. Even though he isn’t your biological child, I always believed you were too good of a man to care about that.” With those words, she turned and took Brody’s hand, her fingers sliding effortlessly into his. “If you hadn’t been so self-righteous back then, Brody and I wouldn’t have had to suffer through three years of separation before we could finally be together. If there is a next life, Drew… I hope you have the sense not to pick up that letter.” The sheer, suffocating betrayal stopped my breath. My heart gave out right there in that sterile hospital room, drowning in my own silent rage. But when I opened my eyes again, the smell of antiseptic was gone, replaced by the scent of old floor wax and cheap pencil lead. I was sitting at my old high school desk. It was the afternoon before the big scholarship exam. Staring down at the wrinkled envelope resting on the worn wood, I didn’t hesitate. I picked it up and threw it straight into the metal trash can at the front of the classroom. Chloe didn’t know the truth. Brody hadn’t been playing a harmless joke. He had actually hired those local thugs to corner her in that alleyway and ruin her exams. But this time, I wasn’t going to be the martyr. Without me playing the fool, I wanted to see exactly what kind of fairytale she would build out of the wreckage. … “What’s wrong, Drew? Zoning out? Didn’t you see the letter on your desk?” Brody’s smug, mocking voice broke through my thoughts. My eyes snapped fully open. The afternoon sun was spilling across the linoleum floor of our senior homeroom. It was indeed the day before the state scholarship exams. Sitting on my desk was the envelope with Chloe’s name scrawled across the front. In my previous life, under Brody’s watchful, sneering gaze, I hadn’t hesitated to tear it open. Inside had been a frantic, tear-stained note from Chloe. She wrote that Brody was planning to corner her in the alley behind the old diner on the morning of the exam, threatening to ruin her reputation and strip her of her dignity. Before I could even process the words back then, Brody had leaned over my shoulder, flashing a cruel grin. “Hey, Drew. Your family is so dirt-poor you probably share a single pair of jeans. You always act so high and mighty just because you get top marks. Let’s see what you care about more—the girl you’re obsessed with, or your precious future.” He had chuckled, tapping his knuckles on my desk. “Tomorrow morning, I’ve got a dozen guys waiting for her in the alley. If you don’t show up to play hero, Chloe’s going to have a very, very rough morning.” In my past life, those words had sent me into a blind rage. I had lunged across the aisle, throwing punches directly into Brody’s face. But before I could land a decisive blow, Chloe had rushed through the classroom door. Shielding Brody, she had pulled me back, allowing him to land several heavy hits. I had ended up black and blue on the classroom floor. Once Brody swaggered out, Chloe had offered me nothing but a brief, annoyed apology. I had thrust the letter into her hands, pleading, “Chloe, we have to go to the police. With this note and your statement, we can stop him before tomorrow.” Chloe’s face had gone rigid. When I practically dragged her to the steps of the local precinct, she had yanked her arm away, her eyes brimming with tears. “Drew, no! If we go to the police, everyone will find out. My reputation will be ruined before I even finish high school. Besides, the exam is tomorrow. I need to go home and study.” She had fled before I could stop her. Back then, I thought she was just terrified of Brody’s rich, influential family. So the next morning, when I saw Brody and his crew actually cornering her in that damp alleyway, I had swallowed my fear and thrown myself into the fight. I took the brunt of the blows, shielding her with my body while screaming, “Chloe! Run! Get help! Call the school!” She was trembling, but she didn’t look back. She just ran. I took a brutal beating for over an hour, waiting for the police or the school principal to arrive. No one came. Brody eventually broke my arm and my leg, leaving me bleeding on the gravel. He had spat on me and laughed. “You really thought she went to get help? She’s already in the exam hall, taking her test.” He left me there, broken and discarded like a stray dog. It wasn’t until the testing blocks were completely over that my uncle found me and took me to the emergency room. Chloe showed up hours later, offering tears and excuses. She claimed she was too paralyzed by fear, and she simply couldn’t bear the thought of missing the test that was her only ticket out of this town. Stupidly, I forgave her. But I pressed charges against Brody anyway. His father’s connections couldn’t fully bury the blatant assault, and he was sentenced to three years in a state penitentiary. The day his sentence was handed down, Chloe asked me to be her boyfriend. I thought it was love. I spent the next decade working double shifts to pay for her college tuition, eventually raising the baby she brought home. It took me a lifetime, lying on a sterile hospital mattress, to realize the agonizing truth. Chloe had known Brody’s plan all along. She had willingly played her part, viewing me as a pawn Brody used to crush my academic dreams. What she hadn’t realized was that Brody’s malice spared no one. He envied my academic brilliance, but he also resented her. He wanted both of our futures ruined. When Brody went to prison, Chloe married me under the guise of “making amends,” turning me into her personal ATM and a surrogate father for Brody’s child. And when Brody was finally released, she staged her own disappearance at sea, slipping away to rejoin him. Not this time. In this life, I stared Brody dead in the eye, took the letter that had once destroyed me, and dropped it into the trash can. Brody’s brow furrowed, his cocky expression faltering. He knew how hopelessly in love with Chloe I was—or at least, how much I used to be. She was supposed to be my Achilles’ heel. “What’s the matter, Drew?” Brody taunted, stepping closer. “You’re just going to let her get ruined? Or do you prefer your girls a little damaged?” I didn’t let the bait take. I kept my face blank, calmly sliding my exam prep books into my backpack. In my previous life, missing that exam had been a phantom limb that ached every single day. I had kept those old study guides, staring at the practice questions late at night in our cramped apartment, wondering what could have been. I had dreamed of going back to school, but I had always sacrificed my ambitions to support Chloe and Toby. Never again. Nobody’s drama was going to stand between me and my future. I looked up, meeting Brody’s gaze with absolute coldness. “Whatever you do to her is your business. It has nothing to do with me.” His eyes flashed with pure malice. Realizing his leverage was gone, he grabbed a heavy wooden chair, swinging it directly toward my arm. He wanted to break my hand so I couldn’t write the exam. Adrenaline surged through me. I dodged the swing, lunged forward, and tackled him to the floor. I pinned him down, raising my fist to strike, when the sharp whistle of rushing air cut through the room. A heavy blow crashed against the back of my skull. Warm, sticky blood immediately began to pour down my neck. I whipped my head around, my vision swimming in red, to see Chloe standing there, panting heavily, a broken wooden chair leg in her hands. She shoved me off Brody, instantly kneeling beside him to check his face for bruises, completely ignoring my bleeding head. When she finally looked up at me, her eyes were filled with disgust. “Drew, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you hurting him?” I wiped the blood from my brow, pointing a finger at Brody. “He swung first.” A brief flicker of guilt crossed Chloe’s face when she saw the blood dripping down my cheek, but her brow quickly furrowed again. She scanned the messy classroom, her voice tightening. “Where is the letter?” I froze, studying her face. The defensive posture, the panic in her eyes… It hit me. She had returned too. And the very first thing she wanted to do was reclaim her evidence. A bitter laugh bubbled up in my chest. I pointed toward the trash can in the corner. She stared at the bin, disbelief washing over her features. But then relief took over. She fished the crumpled paper out and tore it into tiny, irreparable pieces. When she looked back at me, her expression was laced with that familiar, patronizing pity. “Drew, this letter was never meant for you anyway. It was just a joke Brody was playing. Don’t go making a big deal out of nothing and ruin our lives.” I let out a dry chuckle. “The only person ruining your life is standing right next to you. But as long as you’re willing to pay the price, I won’t interfere.” Chloe mistook my warning for jealousy. She tilted her chin up, adopting that high-and-mighty tone I had endured for decades. “Drew, I know you have feelings for me. But you and I are from different worlds. I only love Brody.” Without waiting for my reply, she helped Brody to his feet and guided him out of the room. Before they crossed the threshold, Brody threw a smug, triumphant grin over his shoulder. He didn’t realize that his taunts had lost all their power. Back at my tiny, rented apartment, I was sitting at the kitchen table, pressing a damp towel to my head, when the front door was kicked open. Brody swaggered in, with Chloe trailing right behind him. Seeing the open textbooks on the table, Chloe’s eyes flickered with a brief hesitation. But she quickly straightened, speaking with absolute entitlement. “Drew. You can’t take the exam tomorrow. In fact, you shouldn’t take it for the next two years.” A chill ran down my spine. Did she know I had returned? “No way,” I said, my voice hard. She waved her hand dismissively, as if my consent didn’t matter. “Brody doesn’t want you taking the test. He has weak lungs, and stress makes him sick. Just do this for me. Skip the exams.” Then, she added, like she was offering a grand prize, “If you do this, I’ll let you keep taking me out. Even when Brody and I are officially together, you can still be in my life.” Brody’s grin widened. “Yeah, Drew. You’re obsessed with her, aren’t you? Prove it. Throw away the exam for her.” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Chloe, what makes you think your presence in my life is worth my entire future?” Chloe sighed, looking at me with disappointment. “Drew, in our last life, you got Brody sent to prison for three years. His health was ruined in there. You owe him this.” She said it so casually, laying bare the truth of our past timeline. My chest tightened. But I quickly masked my shock with raw anger. “I don’t know what kind of delusional garbage you’re talking about,” I growled, pushing Brody toward the door. “Get the hell out of my apartment. I don’t owe him a damn thing!” Brody resisted my shove, his sneer turning vicious. “You’re just a parentless piece of trash, Drew. You belong in the gutter. You honestly think you’re going to use some test to climb out of it?” The red mist descended. I lunged, slamming my fist into his jaw. Brody went down, his face twisting with fury. “You worthless bastard!” he screamed, spitting blood onto the linoleum. “You think Chloe actually respects you? She’s nothing but my pet. I’m going to make sure you get thrown in a cell, just like your deadbeat father. You’ll die in some federal penitentiary, just like him!” That was the breaking point. I threw myself onto him, raining punches down. Suddenly, a stinging slap caught me across the face. Chloe threw her weight into me, shoving me back. As I went to lunge forward again, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small pocket knife, holding it tremblingly in front of her. “Drew, stop it!” she screamed. “Everything Brody said is true! You don’t have parents. Your father died in a federal prison because he was a criminal!” I froze, the air leaving my lungs. I stared at her, utterly shattered. She known my father had been set up. When they dragged him away years ago, Chloe had been the only one who held my hand, whispering that she believed in his innocence. That was the exact reason I had fallen for her. That was the reason I had once been willing to destroy my own life to save hers. Taking advantage of my shock, she pulled Brody up, shielding him behind her. She caught the look of absolute betrayal in my eyes, and for a fraction of a second, her hand shook. But she hardened her heart. “I’m doing this for your own good, Drew. Even if you take the exam, a kid like you isn’t going to get into a good school. You’re better off giving up now. My uncle can get you a shift hauling crates down at the shipping docks. It’s stable work.” I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. In my past life, when she “died” at sea and left me with Toby, I had ruined my spine working those exact docks, hauling heavy cargo for twelve hours a day just to pay for her son’s formula. I had destroyed my health for her. And she had known all along. She simply believed that the docks were exactly where I belonged. With blood in my eyes, I pointed toward the open door. “Get out.” Chloe scoffed, tucking the knife away. “Don’t come crying to me when you fail.” I let out a harsh, dry laugh. “The only one who’s going to regret this, Chloe, is you.” After they left, the quiet of the apartment felt heavy. I stared down at my math formulas, unable to focus. Then, I heard a metallic rattle from the other side of the front door. I sprang up and rushed to the entryway, rattling the doorknob. It wouldn’t budge. Peering through the narrow gap in the doorframe, I saw Brody’s grinning face. He was wrapping a heavy chain around the handle, securing it with a padlock. “I’m not letting you get to that test site, Drew,” Brody sneered through the metal. “You want to know why?” I gritted my teeth. When we first started high school, Brody had ignored me. It wasn’t until our senior year that his bullying turned obsessive and cruel. Before I could demand an answer, he whispered, his voice dripping with venom: “Your dad found out about some of my father’s business deals. So I made a little phone call, had him locked up on federal charges. He died in that cell, and you’re going to rot right here. I’m never letting you rise above us.” My breath caught. A violent shudder went through my chest. My father’s arrest, his disgrace, his lonely death—it had all been Brody’s doing. He chuckled, enjoying my muffled gasp of horror. “And Chloe knew. Why do you think she was so nice to you after he got sent away? She pity-patronized you because she knew my family ruined yours. It was hilarious.” I slammed my fists against the wood, my knuckles screaming in pain. I wanted to tear through the door and rip him apart with my bare hands. Every single tragedy in my life—the loss of my father, my broken dreams, my wasted decades—had been orchestrated by Brody. And Chloe, the girl I had worshipped, had been his silent accomplice from the very beginning. I pounded on the heavy oak door, screaming until my throat was raw, while Brody’s laughter faded down the stairwell. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I used every tool I had—a butter knife, a screwdriver, my own shoulders—trying to break the heavy padlock. As the first grey light of dawn filtered through the hallway window, I saw Chloe’s shadow through the peephole. She stood there for a long moment, staring at the chained door with a conflicted expression, before turning and walking away. She wanted me trapped. She wanted me ruined so she could play the saint who rescued me later. With a final, desperate surge of adrenaline, I threw my entire weight against the old doorframe. The wood splintered, and the latch finally gave way with a loud crack. Grabbing my registration ticket, I bolted down the stairs and sprinted toward the high school. As I cut through the alleyway behind the local diner, I ran straight into them. Brody and half a dozen thugs had Chloe cornered against the brick wall. Brody’s eyes widened in sheer shock when he saw me free. Reacting instantly, he grabbed Chloe by the throat, pulling her flush against his chest. “Drew!” he yelled, panic creeping into his voice. “You take one step toward that school, and you know exactly what my boys are going to do to her!” Chloe’s eyes stretched wide with terror as she looked at Brody, finally realizing this wasn’t a game. The thugs around them sneered, their eyes lingering greedily on her legs. In my past life, I knew that stepping away meant leaving her to a horrific fate. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. Brody smirked, gesturing for one of his guys to grab me. But I didn’t move toward them. Instead, I gripped my registration ticket tighter, turned on my heel, and sprinted toward the school gates. This time, I was running for my life. I was never letting anyone hold me back again. Chloe watched my retreating figure, a sudden, cold hollow opening in her chest. She looked up at Brody, her voice trembling. “Brody… let me go. It didn’t work. He’s not coming back.” Brody didn’t release his grip. He stared at the empty alley, his expression twisting into something ugly and feral. He shoved Chloe hard into the arms of the waiting thugs. “If I can’t break him,” he snarled, “destroying you works just as well.” A sharp tear cut through the quiet as one of the guys ripped her dress. She gasped, staring at Brody in utter horror as he snatched her registration ticket from her fingers and tore it to shreds. But before they could drag her any further into the shadows, a loud siren wailed, and heavy footsteps echoed from the mouth of the alley. “Police! Step away from her and put your hands on your head!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “514692”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the school’s End-of-Year Family Carnival, my husband, Ethan, finally gave in to our son’s begging. It was the first time he had ever come with me to pick up our son from school. The teacher walked out, holding our son’s hand. She gave Ethan a strange look and muttered casually, “Lily’s dad, when you used to pick up your daughter, you’d always show up thirty minutes early.” “How come you’re so careless when it comes to your son? A father shouldn’t play favorites.” The umbrella in Ethan’s hand slipped, clattering to the wet ground. Muddy water splashed all over my legs. I held my trembling son, who was wrapped in a faded school hoodie, and stared at the man in front of me. He felt like a total stranger. We only had one son. Where on earth did a daughter come from? Ethan shuddered violently, his voice shaking. “What rubbish are you talking about! I don’t have a daughter!” The teacher got frustrated and pointed toward the preschool classroom next door. “How could I mistake you? Just this morning, you brought a huge box of premium organic Rainier cherries for Lily to share with the other kids!” Ethan’s face went dead white. He grabbed my shoulder and tried to push me toward the car. “The teacher got the wrong guy. Babe, let’s go. Now.” I reached up, gently straightened his wet collar, and said softly, “What’s the rush?” Turning around, I smiled at the bewildered teacher. “Could you show me the way, please?” “I’d love to see what an amazing, world-class father my husband is to someone else’s child.”

The teacher walked ahead. Her heels clicked sharply against the polished concrete floor. Ethan stood frozen in place. I held Leo tightly in my arms, keeping my eyes locked on Ethan. The cuffs of Leo’s school hoodie were completely frayed, exposing his thin, pale little wrist. He buried his face in my neck. His body was shivering slightly from the rain. “Ethan, let’s go,” I called out. Ethan wiped the rain from his face. His skin looked sickly pale. “Claire, there’s really no need. The teacher must have gotten the wrong person. Preschool teachers these days are so unreliable.” He reached out to grab my arm. I stepped aside, dodging his hand. “Let’s just go look. Who knows? Maybe one of your clients has a kid named Lily too.” The teacher looked back at us, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Lily’s dad, it’s right ahead. Lily should still be having her snack.” Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He didn’t say another word and followed silently behind me. The hallway was long, the walls covered in colorful children’s drawings. The teacher stopped outside a classroom door and pointed inside. “There she is. That’s Lily.” I followed her finger. The classroom was warm and brightly lit. A group of children in beautiful, expensive clothes sat around a circular table. Right in the middle sat a little girl. She was wearing a pink tutu dress and a sparkling crystal headband. She was holding a massive, deep-purple cherry, stuffing it into her mouth. The cherries were huge. They looked incredibly expensive. Leo shifted in my arms. He whispered in my ear, “Mommy, I want some too.” I gently patted his back. “Ethan, you told me you bought that box of cherries for a client.” Ethan stood by the back door of the classroom, not daring to step inside. He kept his head down, his voice barely a whisper. “I did give them to a client… Maybe their kid goes to school here. It’s probably just a coincidence. Same name.” Right then, the little girl named Lily looked up. She spotted Ethan standing at the door. Her eyes lit up. She tossed the cherry aside and jumped down from her chair. She ran toward us as fast as her little legs could carry her. “Daddy!” Her voice was high and loud, echoing through the hallway. Ethan stiffened completely. The young teacher inside the classroom looked over and smiled. “Lily, your dad is here to pick you up!” Lily threw her arms around Ethan’s leg, clinging to him. “Daddy, why are you so late today? Chloe said you were going to take me out for pizza!” Ethan instinctively pushed the little girl away, his panicked eyes darting to me. “No… Claire, let me explain.” He tried to shake his leg free from Lily’s grip. His movement was too rough. Lily lost her balance and landed hard on her butt. “Waaah!” The little girl burst into tears. Ethan bent down to help her, but froze halfway and pulled his hands back. A hurried set of footsteps echoed from the end of the hallway. A woman in a chic cream-colored trench coat rushed over. She scooped Lily up into her arms, frantically dusting off the girl’s dress. “What happened? How did you fall, sweetie?” The woman looked up, revealing a face with flawless, heavy makeup. It was Chloe. Ethan’s so-called “distant cousin.” She had moved to our city three years ago, claiming she needed help finding a job. When Chloe saw Ethan, her eyes instantly welled with tears. “Ethan, how could you let her fall and cry like this?” Before she could finish her sentence, she finally noticed me standing there. The expression on Chloe’s face froze. Holding the child, she took a half-step back. “Claire… you’re here too.” Leo coughed twice in my arms. I adjusted my grip on him, looking at the three of them. The man in a tailored suit, the woman in a designer trench coat, the child in a fancy tutu. Meanwhile, my son and I were soaking wet, looking completely miserable. Ethan opened his mouth to speak. I turned around and walked away. “We’re discussing this at home.”

The car heater was blasting. Ethan sat in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. The windshield wipers moved with a rhythmic, irritating screech. Leo sat in his car seat in the back, wrapped in my damp jacket. He was still shivering. Ethan glanced in the rearview mirror and frowned. “Can you tell him to stop putting his feet on the seat? This is genuine leather. It’s expensive to maintain.” I pulled out some tissues and wiped the water from Leo’s hair. “Leo has a fever.” I touched my son’s forehead. It was burning hot. Ethan sighed, clearly annoyed. “It’s just a little rain. Kids aren’t that fragile. Once we get home, give him some warm water and let him sweat it out.” “Lily is a kid too. Why did you buy her such an expensive dress?” I asked quietly. Ethan slammed on the brakes. The sudden jerk threw me forward, my forehead slamming into the passenger seatback. Behind us, a chorus of angry car horns erupted. Ethan stepped on the gas again, his words pouring out in a defensive rush. “I told you, Chloe was stupid. She got pregnant by some guy who ran off. I only helped her out because I felt bad for a single mother!” “The kid grows up without a father, so she insists on calling me ‘Daddy.’ What am I supposed to do? Argue with a toddler?” “And the cherries?” “I bought them for a client! The client rejected them, so I just handed them to Chloe.” “You know how tight our budget is with the mortgage. Spending money on luxury fruit like that is just too extravagant for us.” I stared out the window at the passing streetlights. The faded hoodie on Leo was washed out, the sleeves a couple of inches too short. Last month, I told Ethan that Leo was growing and needed new clothes. Ethan had said: “Kids grow fast. Buying new clothes is a waste of money.” “My cousin has a son who just outgrew his old clothes. We can just take those hand-me-downs.” So, Leo kept wearing these oversized, worn-out rags. Meanwhile, Lily got to wear custom-made tutu dresses and crystal headbands. We drove into the underground garage. Ethan parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt first. “Look, stop acting like this. Chloe has a hard life. We need to be more generous.” “I’ll cook dinner tonight to make it up to you, okay?” He reached into the back to pick up Leo. Leo shrank back, avoiding his touch. Ethan’s hand hung awkwardly in the air before he pulled it back, miffed. “This kid… he’s never close to his own father.” Once we got home, Ethan went straight into the kitchen. I measured Leo’s temperature in the living room. 101.3°F. We were completely out of kids’ fever medicine. I walked into the study to see if there was an extra first-aid kit. The desk in the study was cluttered with a messy pile of receipts and documents. Ethan usually forbade me from entering the study, claiming it contained “confidential company files.” But today, the door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I could see the messy desk. With Leo in my mind, I pushed the door open. I rummaged through the drawers. No medicine. But my fingers brushed against a hard plastic card. I pulled it out. It was a Disney VIP Annual Pass. The photo on the card showed Chloe, Lily, and Ethan, all smiling brightly. Their heads were pressed together, with the Disney castle and fireworks in the background. Underneath the card lay a store receipt. The date was last Saturday. It was Leo’s birthday. Ethan had told me he had to work overtime and couldn’t make it home. Leo had waited up until midnight, eventually falling asleep at the dinner table. The receipt showed a long list of items: Princess Dress: $500. Crystal Shoes: $300. Luxury Seafood Buffet: $200. Total: $1,000. My hand holding the receipt shook violently. That night, Ethan hadn’t returned until after 1:00 AM. He had brought back a tiny, cheap cupcake from a gas station. It was barely the size of my palm, and the frosting had completely melted. He had hugged me and said: “Babe, the company is struggling lately. They cut our bonuses.” “We need to save. When we have more money, we’ll throw our boy a proper party.” And I had believed him. I had deposited all the money I made from my freelance design work into his account, not even buying myself a single new shirt. The study door flew open. Ethan stood there, wearing an apron, a spatula in his hand. When he saw what I was holding, his face twisted in rage. “Who gave you permission to go through my things?” He lunged forward, ripping the annual pass and the receipt out of my hands. His movement was so violent that the spatula almost scraped my face.

Ethan crumpled the receipt into a ball and shoved it into his pocket along with the card. “This was for networking! A client’s daughter wanted to go to Disney. What’s wrong with me tagging along? It’s for work!” I stared at him. “Ethan, did you really need to ‘network’ on Leo’s birthday? You know exactly what you did!” “So what? If I don’t work, where does the money for this house come from? Who pays the mortgage?” He yelled back defensively, his voice booming. “You think I want to work overtime? I’m doing all of this for you and our son!” From the living room, Leo began to cough violently. I ignored Ethan, pushed past him, and ran out of the study. Leo’s face was flushed red with fever. He was curled up on the couch, gasping for air. “Mommy… it hurts…” He clutched the edge of my shirt, his knuckles turning white. I scooped him up. “Let’s go. We’re going to the hospital.” Ethan followed us out. “The hospital? At this hour? Do you know how expensive emergency room copays are?” “We have ginger in the kitchen. I’ll make him some tea to sweat it out.” “Hospitals are just scams anyway. They charge hundreds of dollars for a minor cold.” As I slipped Leo’s shoes on, I pressed my cheek against his burning forehead. “He has a high fever. We are going.” Ethan blocked the front door. “Claire, stop wasting money! A fever won’t kill him.” “When I was a kid, I had a 104-degree fever. My mom just wrapped me in blankets, and I woke up fine the next morning.” “Get out of my way.” My voice was ice-cold as I glared at him. Ethan flinched at my expression. He reluctantly stepped aside, muttering under his breath: “Fine, go. Waste your money. You’re spoiling him. Can’t even handle a tiny cold.” He didn’t put on his shoes, nor did he grab the car keys. Obviously, he had no intention of coming with us. I hadn’t expected him to anyway. Carrying my fifty-pound son, I ran down the stairs and tried to hail a cab. It was pouring, and there were no Ubers nearby. I stood by the curb for twenty minutes, getting completely soaked. Leo kept crying out for his dad in his feverish delirium. My tears mixed with the rain, tasting salty on my lips. At the hospital, we went through emergency registration and blood tests. The doctor diagnosed him with acute pneumonia. He needed an IV drip immediately. I ran up and down the hospital corridors alone, paying fees and collecting medicine. When the nurse inserted the IV needle, Leo cried out, begging for his dad. The nurse looked at me, standing there alone, and asked, “Where is his father?” I shook my head. “He’s dead.” By the time the IV finished, it was 3:00 AM. Leo’s fever had finally gone down, and he fell asleep on the observation bed. As I sat beside him, my phone buzzed. It was a bank notification. [Your account ending in 4012 completed a transaction of $800.00 at 03:15 AM at Ivy Private Pediatric Clinic.] That card was under my name, but Ethan had it linked to his Apple Pay. That was the money I had been saving for Leo’s college fund. I immediately called Ethan. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. Ethan’s voice was hushed, and the background was dead quiet, like he was in a private hallway. “Hello? What do you want in the middle of the night?” “Where are you?” “In bed, sleeping.” “Then explain to me why $800 was just charged to my card.” Silence stretched on the other end for a few seconds. “Oh, that… I bought health insurance for Leo online.” “You know how expensive pediatric visits are. Better safe than sorry.” “You bought insurance from a luxury private pediatric clinic at three in the morning?” Ethan snapped. “Ugh, you are so annoying! Chloe’s kid got sick and she’s at this clinic. She didn’t have enough cash, so she borrowed it from me!” “She’ll pay me back tomorrow. Why do you have to be so incredibly petty?” *Click.* He hung up. I watched the screen of my phone fade to black. *Borrow?* Chloe didn’t even have a job. How was she going to pay it back? For the last three years, any money “borrowed” by her had never been seen again. Using my burner account, I opened Ethan’s Instagram. Just five minutes ago, he had posted a story set to “Close Friends” only. The photo showed a tiny hand with an IV drip, set against the backdrop of a luxurious private hospital room. The caption read: *[My heart breaks for my baby girl. Daddy will always protect you.]* In the comment section, Chloe had replied: *[Thank you, Daddy. We love you.]* Ethan replied: *[Always.]* I tapped the picture and zoomed in. On the bedside table sat a limited-edition Lego set—the exact one I couldn’t afford to buy for Leo. Meanwhile, my actual son was lying in a noisy, crowded public emergency room, covered in a thin, yellowed hospital blanket. My fingers gripped my phone so tightly they went numb. I turned to look at the sleeping Leo. He was so well-behaved, barely even crying out loud when he was sick. All because Ethan had once told him that “crying boys are annoying.” I stood up, walked over to the nurse’s station, and borrowed a pair of scissors. I snipped a piece of the medical tape. Then, I dialed our home landline. No one answered. He was at the private hospital, playing daddy to his mistress’s child. Perfect. I sat back down, opened my banking app, and transferred every single cent left in that account to my best friend, Sarah. There was only $2,000 left. Over the past three years, Ethan had drained all my savings using every excuse imaginable. He said he was investing, managing our wealth, and planning for our future. It turned out his “future” never included me or Leo.

The next morning, Leo’s fever had mostly subsided. The doctor prescribed some antibiotics and discharged us. When we got back, Ethan still wasn’t home. The kitchen was cold and empty. I made some oatmeal for Leo and helped him eat. He was such a good boy. Right after taking his medicine, he quietly went to his room to do his homework. I walked into our bedroom and opened the closet. Ethan’s side was lined with pristine, expensive designer clothes. He always said that as a manager, his appearance was his brand, so he couldn’t look cheap. On my side, there were only a few stretched-out t-shirts and old jeans. I pulled out a massive suitcase. And I began to pack. First went Leo’s clothes, books, and toys. Then my documents, my laptop, and my drawing tablet. My movements were swift, without a shred of hesitation. When I got to the nightstand, I pulled open the drawer. Deep inside was a small, locked box. This was Ethan’s prized possession. He kept the key on his keychain at all times. But last night, in his rush to leave for the private hospital, he had changed pants and left his keys on the shoe rack by the entryway. I walked over, grabbed the key, and unlocked the box. Inside was a stack of papers. Right on top was a DNA paternity test. Petitioner: Ethan Vance. Test Subject: Lily Lin. Result: 99.9% probability of paternity. Ethan Vance is the biological father of Lily Lin. The date on the report was from three years ago. Right around the time Chloe first came to “seek help.” It had been a scam from the very beginning. Underneath the report was a property deed. A brand-new condo downtown. The sole owner listed was Chloe Lin. Paid in full. The payment record was from two years ago. That was exactly when I had received a $20,000 design bonus. Ethan had come to me crying, claiming his mother was critically ill and needed immediate surgery. Without a second thought, I had handed him the money. I had even taken out a high-interest personal loan to cover the rest of the medical costs. To this day, I was still paying off the interest on that loan, working late nights to sketch designs. It turned out that the “dying mother” I had starved myself to save was actually a luxury condo for his mistress. A wave of intense nausea hit me. I rushed to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet, but nothing came up. Looking in the mirror, my face was pale and haggard, with fine lines creeping around my eyes. This was the reward for seven years of loving that man. I took clear photos of every single document, put them back exactly as they were, and locked the box. I placed the keys back on the shoe rack. Suddenly, the front door clicked open. Ethan was back. He carried a bag of takeout, a look of exhaustion on his face, but with an undeniable air of smug satisfaction. He had probably felt like a real hero playing family at Chloe’s bedside last night. “Babe, how is Leo? I bought some fresh bagels. They’re still warm.” He kicked off his shoes, walked in, and tossed the bag onto the table. When he saw the suitcase in the living room, he froze. “Are you going on a business trip?” I stepped out of the bedroom, holding my phone. “Yeah. The agency has an emergency project,” I said, keeping my voice completely flat. Ethan let out a sigh of relief and stepped closer to hug me. “For how many days? Can you skip it? There’s so much to do around the house, and you know I’m terrible with kids.” I stepped back, dodging his arms. “I have to go. Someone has to pay the mortgage.” Ethan rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Just make it quick. Oh, by the way, about that money…” “I transferred all of it to my best friend, Sarah,” I said. Ethan’s eyes widened. “What? Why the hell would you do that? I need that money right now!” “Chloe’s kid is getting discharged, and they’re short on cash. Transfer it back immediately!” “Sarah is sick. She’s in the hospital and needed a loan,” I lied smoothly. Ethan lost his mind. “Her parents can pay for her! Our money is for emergencies! How can you be so incredibly selfish?” “Chloe is a single mother. It’s hard enough for her. What if they stop her kid’s medication?” He lunged forward to grab my phone. “Give me the phone. I’ll transfer it back myself!” I took a step back, clutching my phone tightly. Hearing the shouting, Leo peeked his head out from his room. “Daddy…” Ethan didn’t even look at him. His face was twisted in pure rage. “Go back to your room! Stay out of grown-up business!” Leo flinched and slammed the door shut. I stared at Ethan’s ugly face. To pay for his bastard daughter’s private clinic bill, he was willing to rob his own son of emergency funds. “The transfer went through. I can’t get it back,” I said coldly. Ethan kicked the couch in frustration. “Claire, you are absolutely out of your mind! Fine! You want to play dirty? Don’t expect me to help you with anything ever again!” He snatched his car keys off the counter and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. *Bang.* The apartment fell into a dead silence. I walked over to Leo’s room and pushed the door open. Leo was clutching his backpack, tears welling in his eyes. “Mommy, are we leaving?” He had seen the suitcase. I knelt down and wiped his tears away. “Yes, sweetie. We’re leaving.” “Is Daddy coming with us?” “No.” “So… do I never have to wear old hand-me-downs again?” My throat tightened. I nodded fiercely. “Never. From now on, you only get brand-new clothes.” I grabbed our suitcase, took Leo’s hand, and walked out of the apartment we had lived in for five years.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442018”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On the day my dad walked out on us for another woman, my mom bought a pig. The pig was named Joy. I was also named Joy. Whenever she was angry, she would grab a wooden switch, go to the pen, and whip the pig. “Joy, why aren’t you dead yet?” I would squat nearby, listening to the thud of the wood hitting flesh, unable to tell which Joy she was screaming at. When she was tired of beating it, she would scoop out the exact same amount of food for the pig and me. “Good girl, Joy. As long as you eat more and get fat, Mommy will be happy.” To make her happy, I ate uncontrollably until I hit 250 pounds. But then, my mom only looked at me with disgust. “Look at you. What company would ever hire you looking like this? Are you planning to just be a couch potato and leach off me forever?” Later, my mukbang live streams blew up, and I started making ten grand a month. But my mom called just to curse at me. “You don’t care about your reputation, but I care about mine! You’re as fat as a pig, and you’re showing your face to the whole world? Aren’t you embarrassed?” I hid my terminal stomach cancer diagnosis under my pillow. Mom, I’m using my life to buy your approval. Will that finally be enough?

Maria, the office cleaning lady, asked me with concern, “Sweetie, you’re throwing up so much blood. You should go to the hospital.” I waved my hand, using the sink to push myself up. Outside, the voices from the cubicles dropped slightly. “Is she serious? Killing herself just for some internet money.” “Well, she makes more in one stream than we do in half a month.” “Still, it’s terrifying. I heard her throwing up just now. It sounded like a pig being slaughtered.” “She must have been a pig in her past life. She eats literally anything.” Just then, my phone rang. To my surprise, it was my mom. “I’m at the bus station. Where do you live?” I froze. It had been three years. This was the first time she had ever come to see me. “Mom, stay there. I’m coming to get you right now.” At the station exit, my mom was standing there. “Mom, let’s go. I’ll take you home.” I picked up her heavy luggage and walked her back to my place. She stood in the middle of my living room, looking around. Her eyes locked onto the empty takeout containers I hadn’t had time to throw away. “Is this what you eat every day?” “Sometimes I’m just too busy to cook…” “You make so much money, yet you live in a dump like this?” I choked up a bit. “Mom, this apartment is fifteen hundred a month. It’s actually pretty nice…” “Nice? My foot,” she interrupted. “On the bus ride here, I googled you. I saw your live stream.” She didn’t look at me. She just stared out the window. “All those people watching you stuff your face with tons of food. You look ridiculous.” “The folks back home saw it too. If you’re not embarrassed, I am.” I stood by the kitchen door, still holding the fresh groceries I had bought for her. “Mom, I do this to make a living…” “A living?” She whipped her head around. “What happens when you eat yourself to death?” “If you collapse, who’s going to take care of me when I’m old? You’re my only daughter. Who else can I rely on?” “Richard’s eldest son just got into a prep school, and he has another baby now. Both of them are more successful than you’ll ever be!” She sat on the couch and wiped her face. “Fine. I’m hungry. Go make dinner.” Fried fish, garlic shrimp, and chicken soup—I cooked a whole table of food. But she didn’t even look at me. She picked up her fork and started eating. Watching her eat, I let out a soft laugh. She paused, her fork hovering in the air. “What are you laughing at?” “Nothing,” I said. “Eat up, Mom. It won’t taste good once it gets cold.” She gave me a suspicious look. I leaned back in my chair. My hand slipped into my pocket, touching the crumpled diagnosis sheet that said I had late-stage stomach cancer. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

I was about to stand up to clear the dishes, but she stopped me. “Sit down.” She carried the bowls to the kitchen. “I’m staying here from now on to look after you.” I sat there, stunned. “These past years haven’t been easy for me. That bastard Richard just packed up and left, leaving the two of us.” “I raised you all by myself. You saw how much I suffered.” I sat at the dining table, silent. “When you were in college and had to pay those fees, I scraped every penny together for you.” “Back then, I was washing dishes at a diner for eight dollars an hour. I didn’t spend a single cent on myself. I gave it all to you.” In all these years, this was the first time I had ever heard her say this. “Mom…” She rinsed the bowls, put them on the rack, wiped her hands, and walked out. “So, stop doing those stupid eating streams.” I froze. “Mom, this makes good money. I need to support you.” “Support me?” She glared at me. “Is money all you care about now? Do you even care about me as your mother?” “That’s not what I—” “Then did you ever consider my dignity?” Her voice escalated. “Do you know what the neighbors back home are saying?” “They say you’re on the internet acting like a glutton, stuffing food down your throat like a pig. It’s humiliating.” “If this gets to Richard’s new wife, who knows how she’ll mock us.” I looked at her. “Dignity, dignity. That’s all you ever care about.” “Does dignity put food on the table? I have to make money while I still can. When my body gives out, I won’t be able to make a dime!” “What do you mean by that?” She glared at me. I shut my mouth. “What do you mean your body is giving out?” She walked over, standing right in front of me. “Are you hiding something from me?” “No.” I turned my face away. “I’m just saying, this job doesn’t last forever. I have to make as much as I can now.” She didn’t say anything. She sat back down on the couch. “Fine. Do whatever you want,” she said, her eyes dull. “But all the money you make has to go to me. I’ll keep it safe for you, so you don’t blow it.” When I was little, my mom’s eyes used to smile. Now, they never did. After a long silence, she whispered, “If you hadn’t been born a girl, your father would have never cheated with that woman.” “Mom, I was only seven when Dad cheated.” She went rigid. “Do you know what the saddest day of my life was? It wasn’t the day he left. It was the day he came back to visit me.” “He came back once a year to bring me snacks and buy me clothes.” “Whenever he came, you were happy. When he left, you cried. And after you cried, you would grab a switch and beat the pig.” My throat tightened. “Sometimes, when you beat the pig, I would squat right next to you and listen.” “Every time the pig squealed, I would flinch.” “You screamed, ‘Joy, why aren’t you dead yet?’ and I would wonder… should I be dead too?” Her lips trembled, but no sound came out. “Later, I realized you weren’t screaming at the pig. You were screaming at me. You were screaming at him,” I said. “But you couldn’t keep him, so you kept me. You took all your anger out on me.” She fell completely silent. That night, lying in bed, my phone buzzed. I scrolled down and saw a direct message. “Hey Joy, I’m a big fan of yours. Please take care of your health during your streams. Don’t eat too much. It breaks my heart to watch sometimes.”

At eight o’clock the next night, I started my stream on time. The moment the camera turned on, the chat began to flood. I smiled at the camera and picked up a piece of fried chicken. “Good evening, everyone! Thank you so much for the gifts. Today, your favorite curvy mukbanger, Joy, is eating fried chicken and spicy noodles!” The chat scrolled rapidly. “Joy looks a bit pale today…” “Eat up, eat up!” “Don’t eat too spicy, it’s bad for your stomach!” I tore off a piece of a chicken drumstick and took a bite. My stomach churned violently. I forced it down. As I was eating, the screen suddenly exploded with flashy animations. The chat went wild. “Ten thousand dollars! Oh my god!” “Thank you to the big boss!” I was stunned. I put down the chicken leg and stared at the screen. The user ID of the sender was “Richard.” A direct message popped up on my phone. “Joy, it’s Dad. Please stop the stream. Don’t eat anymore. I’m begging you.” I stared at the words. The screen exploded again—he had sent another ten thousand dollars. “Your mom took all the money I sent you in the past. I know that now. From now on, I’ll transfer it directly to you.” “Get off the stream, please. I’m begging you. Brenda is throwing a huge fit at home because of this.” My nose stung. I quickly lowered my head and chewed on the chicken. Then, another account sent fifteen thousand dollars. A DM followed. “Joy, it’s Brenda.” “Listen to me, sweetie, stop the stream. The relatives are all pointing fingers at me, saying I’m a horrible stepmother to you.” “Your dad and I made some good money in business these past two years. If you need money, just ask me.” The chat was still flying by. “Joy finally got some sugar daddies! You made it, girl! *crying emoji*” “Why is Joy crying?” I touched my face. It was wet. Just as I was about to speak, the door to the streaming room was kicked open. I turned around and saw my mom standing at the entrance. She was panting, her face bright red. Two staff members from my agency were behind her, trying to stop her but too afraid to grab her. “Mom, you…” She lunged forward and slapped me across the face. “When did you get back in touch with that cheating bastard?” “Huh? I raised you all these years, and you crawl back to him the second he throws some petty cash at you?” I held my burning cheek and looked at her. “Mom, I didn’t contact him…” Another slap. “Is that homewrecker Brenda there too? Did you call her ‘Mom’ yet?” I tried to speak, but she slapped me again. The live stream chat went completely chaotic. My mom grabbed me by my collar, dragging me in front of the camera, and screamed, “Look at this! This is the wonderful daughter I raised!” “Her dad cheated and abandoned us years ago. Now he comes back, throws a few dollars at her, and she’s wagging her tail like a dog to call him Daddy!” “And the homewrecker is here too! A happy little family reunion! What about me? What am I to her?” “She would rather give all her money to their new family than stay and take care of her own mother!” The chat was going insane. “Is this scripted or real?” “Wait, the big donor is her cheating dad?” “Stop hitting her!” The agency staff finally ran in to pull her away. My mom broke free, pointing at the camera and screaming, “Richard, you absolute piece of trash!” “Why are you acting like a saint now?” “And you, Brenda! You actually have the nerve to show up? You stole another woman’s husband. You’ll burn in hell!” Suddenly, the screen went black. The tech team had cut the stream. I stood there, my face burning, my ears ringing. My mom stood there panting, adjusting her clothes, and gave me a venomous look. I knew that look. That was the exact look she gave the pig when she beat it. The door pushed open, and Sarah, the operations director, walked in. She looked at my mom, then at me. Her expression was incredibly grim. “Joy, come to my office.”

I followed Sarah into her office. She closed the door and pointed to a chair. “Sit.” “I’ve heard some things about your family.” She poured a glass of water and set it in front of me. “It must be hard.” I didn’t say anything. “But business is business. What happened today is terrible for the company’s image.” “Joy,” her voice softened, “take a week off.” “Go home and sort out your family issues.” “The company employs a lot of people. We can’t let one person’s personal life ruin the entire business. You understand, right?” I raised my head to speak, but she waved her hand. “I know it’s not your fault.” She paused. “The cleaning lady told me she saw you throwing up blood in the restroom. More than once. I know about your health.” She pulled a card out of her drawer and slid it across the desk. “This is for the medical center our company partners with. Go get checked out.” “Health comes first. You can always make money later.” I looked at the card, my eyes welling up with tears. “Thank you…” Suddenly, the door burst open. My mom was standing there. “Director, I am so sorry, so sorry. I was just too emotional.” She bowed slightly, rubbing her hands together nervously. “I have a bad temper, and when I get anxious, I lose control. I’m so sorry for causing trouble.” Sarah didn’t say a word. My mom rushed over and grabbed my arm. “Joy, quick, get down on your knees and apologize to the director.” I didn’t move. She yanked me, but I remained still. The fake smile on her face stiffened. “This child, she is so stubborn.” She smiled apologetically at Sarah. “Director, please don’t mind her. She’s never known how to behave. I’ll teach her a lesson when we get home.” I used the desk to pull myself up. My stomach suddenly cramped violently. The pain was so intense that my vision blurred. I gripped the edge of the desk, my palms dripping with cold sweat. “Mom…” “What are you whining for?” She glared at me. “Apologize right now!” “Do you want to lose your job? If you lose this job, how are you going to support me?” Sarah ignored my mom, rushed over to me, and held my shoulders. “Joy? Joy, are you okay?” My mom sneered, “Director, don’t worry about her. She’s just acting. She always pulls this ‘I don’t feel well’ card.” “She’s been like this since she was a kid. Whenever I asked her to do chores, she’d suddenly have a headache or a stomachache…” “Actually, Director, if we put this family drama online, it would generate a ton of traffic, wouldn’t it?” I stared at her. Her mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear the words. Everything in front of me began to fade into a dark haze. I reached out, desperately grabbing my mom’s wrist. She looked down at me. “Mom… I just want to ask you one thing…” “What now?” “Are you proud of me?” “Can you… just once… tell me I did good?” She looked at me, blinking. “Of course I am!” I stared at her, thinking I had finally gotten what I wanted. The next second, she shook off my hand and muttered, “Look, our pig back home is named Joy. We fatten it up to sell it for cash. You eat to make money. In my eyes, you’re both the same. You’re both my pride and joy.” I let out a hollow laugh. She frowned. “What are you laughing at?” The taste of copper rushed up my throat. Before I could even lower my head, I opened my mouth and sprayed a fountain of blood right onto her face. My mom froze. The dark red blood dripped down her chin. Her face turned deathly pale.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442019”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

One year into my marriage, I was cornered, stripped of my clothes, and pinned against a wall. The woman turned on her phone to start a livestream, then slapped me hard across the face. “You filthy homewrecker! How dare you seduce my husband!” She had the strength of an ox. I couldn’t fight back. All I could do was cover my chest and scream in denial: “You have the wrong person! I’m married! I don’t even know your husband!” The woman sneered and threw a marriage certificate at my face. It was a certified copy of a marriage license, complete with a photo of her and my husband, Liam! “Liam and I got married three years ago. Maya, you are the mistress here. Get it?” My mind went completely blank. Overnight, my life was ruined. I lost my promotion at the TV network, and I was blacklisted from the entire industry. Depressed and broken, I walked out onto the balcony of our penthouse. Just as I was about to jump, I heard voices outside the door. A woman laughed. “Liam, you are truly ruthless.” “We’ve only known each other for three months, yet you let me use a fake marriage license to destroy her just to make me happy.” Liam’s voice was filled with adoration. “As long as you’re happy, babe. You can play with her however you want.” I stared at the closed door, my heart shattering into pieces. The living hell I had been through was nothing more than a game he played to make his new girl laugh.

The wind on the balcony was howling, but their voices cut through it, hitting my ears with brutal clarity. I closed my eyes tightly, remembering the nightmare of the past month. After being labeled a “homewrecker,” I had posted screenshots of my chat history to prove I had been deceived. But every explanation only brought viler abuse. My colleagues avoided me like the plague. Strangers spat on the street when I walked by. “Look at her dressing like that. She’s definitely a homewrecker.” “I bet she slept her way to getting all those designer bags.” I tried my best to block out the rumors and focus on my work. But during a live broadcast, even the guest on my show asked me on air why I chose to destroy someone’s family. I finally broke down, crying and screaming, “I’m not! I didn’t even know he was married!” Nobody believed me. The clip of my breakdown was edited, went viral on TikTok, and triggered a new wave of cyberbullying. I lost my job completely and was blacklisted. Fear and nightmares haunted me every night. I swallowed more and more sleeping pills, and my hair fell out in clumps. It wasn’t until Liam returned from overseas with Vivian that I finally confronted him. He just looked at me with annoyance. “You only asked me if I had a girlfriend when I was studying abroad. You never asked if I had a wife. How did I lie to you?” The last string in my brain snapped. Death seemed like the only way out. But now, finding out the truth, I stood frozen. Since all of this was fake… What was the point of all the agony I had suffered over the past month? Anger, mixed with overwhelming grief, rushed to my head. I threw the door open. Liam’s laugh froze on his face. My words cut through the room like a blade: “Why would you do this to me?!” Frowning, he signaled Vivian to leave. Then he sat on the sofa and lit a cigarette. I was severely allergic to cigarette smoke and started coughing immediately. In the past, he would never smoke in front of me. But this time, he was completely indifferent to my discomfort. Liam said coldly, “Since you heard everything, I’ll be straight with you.” “Maya, I know you love me, but I’m bored.” “I’m bored of your unchanging hairstyle, bored of always having to baby you, and most of all… bored of your single position in bed.” “I need excitement. Vivian can give me what you can’t.” I took a few deep breaths to suppress my nausea and said, “Liam, how can you do this to me? Have you forgotten my mother, Helen?” At the mention of my mother, his expression stiffened. “It’s been so many years. You always use Helen’s death to guilt-trip me.” “I know she saved my life. Wasn’t marrying you enough to pay that debt?” Liam and I were neighbors growing up. Years ago, when the Sterling estate caught fire, his parents weren’t home, and even their nanny abandoned him. Only my mother rushed into the flames to save him. But in the end, she died from severe smoke inhalation. My mother’s death had always been a taboo topic between us. Bringing it up now, combined with the humiliation of the past weeks, broke me. I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. “My mother died for nothing! She saved an ungrateful monster!” The slap left both of us stunned. Then, Liam actually let out a low chuckle. “This is the first time I’ve seen you this angry.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “This expression on your face is actually quite hot.” “It’s literally turning me on.” “Since Vivian isn’t here, why don’t we try the bathroom?” His words made my mind go completely blank. I looked at him in utter disbelief. He felt like a complete stranger. Was this really the man I had loved since childhood? I grabbed the nearest vase and threw it at him, screaming at him to get the hell out. After he left, I collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air. I wanted to go to the bedroom to sleep off the exhaustion. But the moment I opened the door, I froze. Our wedding photo had been ripped off the wall and thrown onto the floor. My face was defaced with black marker, with “Homewrecker” written next to it in bold letters. Worse, there were two distinct, dusty boot prints right on the photo. I took a step back, and my foot stepped on something slick. I looked down. It was a used condom. I gagged, but nothing came out. The pain consumed me. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t shed a single tear. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. Liam had posted a new Snapchat story: *Finally returning to my real family. Excited to spend the rest of my life with my beautiful wife.* The attached photo showed him and Vivian standing side by side, watching the sunset. In an instant, my brain exploded. The tears finally broke through. Humiliation and fury rolled down my cheeks. A fierce desire for revenge ignited deep within my heart.

Over the next few days, I spent every waking hour gathering evidence of his infidelity, determined to ruin him. But the more I uncovered, the colder my heart became. Three months ago, on my birthday, I sat alone in the dark waiting for him until dawn. He spent the entire night setting off fireworks with Vivian. Two months ago, I went to the hospital and found out I was pregnant. I tried to call him to share the joy, but he was unreachable. He was busy taking care of Vivian because she had menstrual cramps. One month ago, when my reputation was ruined and I miscarried in the hospital due to stress, he was in Iceland with Vivian, watching the Northern Lights. I let out a bitter laugh. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up again. I threw up until there was nothing left but bile, and only then did the numb pain in my chest ease a little. The next day, I sent all the evidence to a prominent media contact, waiting for them to break the story. When I got home, I forced myself to sit down and draft the divorce papers. As I wrote, my eyes welled with tears. We were childhood sweethearts. We had crushes on each other for years. When we graduated high school, we promised that once he finished his degree abroad and came back, we would be together. In the beginning, no matter how late I worked, he would always pick me up. When I was sick, he would cancel multi-million-dollar meetings just to cook soup and take care of me in the hospital for six hours. On the day I got promoted, he spent over a million dollars at an auction to buy a diamond ring and propose to me. I didn’t want people to say I was using him to climb the social ladder, so we kept our marriage a secret. But I never expected that this secrecy would become the perfect cover for his affair. Tears blurred my vision. Before I could understand when exactly he had changed, I fell asleep from pure exhaustion. When I woke up, the trending topics on Twitter were exploding. But the moment I opened my phone, I almost fainted. The evidence of his affair had been twisted. It was released as my “confession” of being a homewrecker! They had used AI to clone my voice for a fake audio apology and even generated my handwriting! The internet went into a frenzy again. My photos were maliciously photoshopped with “Homewrecker” labels and circulated everywhere. Not only that, but all my social media accounts were banned, and my phone number was leaked. Harassment calls and disgusting text messages flooded in. Some called me a whore and told me to die. Others asked how much I charged for a night to be their side chick. I laughed out loud, a sound full of misery. In that instant, I realized this was Liam’s retaliation. Whenever I faced negative comments at work in the past, he was always the first to shut them down, protecting me from any hurt. But now, for the sake of Vivian, he had personally dragged me into this hell. The door opened, and Liam walked in. My rage burned away all remaining sanity. I grabbed a glass cup and hurled it at him. “Liam! I am not the mistress! She is! I want a divorce!” He dodged the glass, stepped forward, and grabbed my throat, pinning me against the wall. Even as my eyes bloodshot and physiological tears spilled over from the pain, his grip didn’t loosen. Only when I was on the verge of suffocating did he finally let go. “Are you calm now? Do that again, and I’ll make sure it hurts more.” “Maya, a little jealousy is fine, but if you keep making scenes, I’ll get annoyed. Stop using these cheap tricks to get my attention.” “You love me to death, and I need a wife who knows her place. We both get what we want, don’t we?” He glanced at the divorce papers on the laptop and sneered. “You want a divorce? Do you even have the guts? Now that you have no job, who else can you rely on besides me?” “Be good. Once I’m done having fun, I’ll clear your name.” I coughed violently, but he ignored me. “Vivian cried until her eyes were red. She wants me to throw a massive wedding to make it up to her. And she wants you to personally apologize to her at the wedding before she forgives me.” Before leaving, he turned back. “Whether you show up is up to you. But if Vivian is unhappy, I don’t mind giving you another little punishment.” After he left, my vision was still swimming in darkness. I started laughing hysterically. And then, I cried. That night, Liam paid to push a new topic to the top of the trending list: *The Reformed Playboy! The Sterling Group Heir Spends $100 Million on a Century Wedding to Make His Wife Happy!* The comments section was flooded, and people even started shipping them. [Real couples are the best! It must have been that other woman who seduced him! A famous TV host acting as a homewrecker, how disgusting!] [Does Maya have a shortage of men? She’s so desperate! I hate homewreckers! Go die already!] [Her mother died early, so she was raised without any manners. No wonder she has no morals.] After reading these, I leaned over the trash can, feeling like I was going to throw up my entire stomach. In my fading consciousness… I remembered him kneeling on one knee, his ears bright red, carefully sliding the ring onto my finger and swearing to love me forever. When I raised my head again… Except for the nausea and the burning sensation in my stomach, the sadness suddenly vanished. Everything about Liam seemed completely meaningless to me now. My phone vibrated, and a text message lit up the screen: *I saw what you sent me. When can we meet and talk?*

The trending topics stayed active for several days. The number one topic was Liam and Vivian’s wedding of the century. The second was my fake confession. A small group of netizens attacked Liam, accusing him of cheating. He responded directly with a video on Instagram. “Yes, I admit I made a mistake, but please do not attack Vivian.” “She is innocent, kind, and fragile. She can’t handle this. I will take all the responsibility.” “I only hope that when we get married, everyone can give her their most sincere blessings.” As soon as the video was released, the doubts vanished, and people started praising him for being “responsible.” Then, they turned around and launched an even more vicious attack on me, calling me a shameless husband-stealer. I locked my phone, finding the whole thing incredibly ironic. That night, Liam came back. He sat across from me and cleared his throat. “The date for my wedding with Vivian is set. It’s the day after tomorrow. Remember to show up.” The day after tomorrow… Was the anniversary of my mother’s death. I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping harshly against the floor. “I don’t have time. I’m going to visit my mother’s grave.” “And when are you going to sign the divorce papers?” He completely ignored the divorce and sneered, “Your mother has been dead for years. What is there to visit? Vivian’s parents are coming too. You can just pay respects to her mother.” I thought I was completely numb, but my heart still took a sharp hit. Seeing my reluctance, he pulled out my mother’s necklace. “This is Helen’s necklace, right? If you don’t go and you make Vivian unhappy, this necklace might…” I clenched my teeth so hard they ached. Just as my anger was about to boil over, a vibration from my phone pulled me back. I pinched myself hard, forcing myself to calm down. After glancing at the message, I said flatly: “Liam, do you really want me to congratulate Vivian in front of all those reporters?” He laughed. “Of course.” Before leaving, he looked back at me. “It seems dead people’s things are still useful.” “And about the day after tomorrow, you know what to say and what not to say.” On the day of the wedding, Liam indeed invited a crowd of reporters. In the dressing room, Vivian was standing in front of me in a custom haute couture wedding gown. Her corsage read “Bride.” Liam’s read “Groom.” And mine, which Liam tried to pin on my chest, read “The Homewrecker.” Vivian shed a few tears, and Liam immediately tried to force the corsage onto me. I blocked his hand, but he didn’t care. The sharp pin scratched my hand, drawing blood, but he successfully pinned it to my dress anyway. I clenched my fists. “Are you sure you want to do this to me?” He frowned. “Vivian just asked you to wear a flower. What’s the big deal?” Seeing me wearing it, Vivian said triumphantly: “Later, you will read every single word of the apology slides I prepared.” “Then, you will get down on your knees, beg for my forgiveness, and say ‘I am a homewrecker, I shouldn’t have ruined your family, please forgive me.’” “You have to stay on your knees until I tell you to get up. Do you understand?” I didn’t say a word, just stared at her. Seeing Vivian get annoyed, Liam grabbed my jaw tightly. “Don’t be ungrateful.” I slapped his hand away and glared at him. Before I could speak, the door opened. Reporters with cameras and guests flooded in. They surrounded Vivian and Liam, praising her dress and saying they were a match made in heaven. But when they saw the “Homewrecker” corsage on my chest, their expressions turned into pure disgust. “I really don’t understand how some women can be so cheap, always trying to steal other women’s husbands.” “Exactly. Showing up on such a happy day… Vivian is too kind. If it were me, I would have slapped her already.” Their stares felt like knives cutting into my skin. I ripped the corsage off. “I am not the mistress! Vivian is!” Nobody believed me. Their looks grew even more contemptuous. “I’ve never seen someone so shameless. Acting like she’s innocent when she’s a home wrecker. Where does she get the nerve?” Liam stood aside, not saying a single word to defend me. He only asked Vivian if she was tired or hungry. Seeing this, the onlookers grew even more envious of Vivian and aggressive toward me. Just as I was about to defend myself, Liam grabbed my arm tightly where no one could see, pinching me hard to shut me up. Cold sweat poured down my forehead from the pain, but he ignored it. Vivian played the victim perfectly. “Please don’t talk about Maya like that. She just loved Liam too much. He is so amazing, I can understand her.” “Maya is here to apologize today. I hope everyone can forgive her later.” Shortly after, the ceremony began. They went up to the stage under the cheers of the crowd, exchanging emotional vows. Finally, after they exchanged rings, I was called up to the stage. But the moment the giant screen behind us lit up, Liam’s face turned deathly pale

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442015”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My parents always taught me that a girl had to be independent. They were getting old, and it was time for me to shoulder the family’s burdens. I remember pointing at my brother, Austin, and saying naively, “But we have Austin. He should learn to be independent too.” Not long after that, Austin had a terrible fall. He became completely bedridden. I worked part-time jobs while taking care of my paralyzed brother, yet our family still survived on discarded vegetables and wore second-hand clothes rescued from the trash. To make more money, I signed up for sketchy, under-the-table medical drug trials. But because of that, I developed severe skin cancer. My body began to rot. Without hesitation, I left every single dollar of that blood money to Austin. I didn’t even keep enough cash to buy a bottle of sleeping pills for myself. In the end, I pulled a plastic trash bag over my head and ended my own life. Yet, after my death, I saw Austin playing in a high-stakes championship basketball game. When it ended, my parents rushed to hug him and gifted him the most expensive mansion in the city. It turned out they had staged this entire tragedy of poverty. I was the only actor who took the script seriously. But now that I’m actually dead, why do they look so full of regret?

I was preparing for my second drug trial. The nurse, about to insert the needle, froze when she saw the massive rotting sores on my arm. She gasped, her hand shaking so hard that the syringe dropped to the floor. They rushed me in for a full medical examination. Before I could even ask about the rotting skin, they dragged me out and threw me onto the street. The nurse threw my cash and the medical report right at my face. “You have skin cancer and you still dared to come for drug trials? How desperate for money are you? You signed the waiver, so even if you died on our table, it’s on you. Take the money and get the hell out. Don’t you dare try to sue us!” Those words hit me like a lightning bolt. I froze on the pavement. Ever since the trials started, my skin had been incredibly itchy and flaky. Every time Sarah struggled to sweep up the dry skin from my bedsheets, I felt so incredibly guilty. I never imagined it was the prelude to my death. Dejected, I picked up the report and stared at the bold letters, desperately wishing my eyes were playing tricks on me. Just then, my phone buzzed. Sarah’s gentle voice echoed in my ear. “Chloe, we’re working extra hours for some cash today and won’t make it back for lunch. Remember to cook for Austin.” I swallowed my tears and choked out a quiet, “Okay.” My feet felt like lead as I walked back home. Seeing Austin lying on the bed, I immediately shoved the medical report under my wooden cot. But looking at him, my eyes welled up with tears. Austin looked at me and whispered, “I’m sorry, Chloe. I’m holding you back. Honestly, it’s fine if I skip lunch.” I walked over and sat by his bed for a long time before I could find my voice. “Austin, what will you do if I’m not here one day?” Austin gently patted my head, his eyes full of affection. “What are you talking about? I’d die for you before I let anything happen to you. You’re going to be fine. We just have to stay strong. Things will get better soon.” But I wasn’t going to get better. I stood up, wiped my tears, and did something I never did—I bought some fresh eggs to boil for Austin. As soon as the food was on the table, David and Sarah dragged their exhausted bodies through the door. They pulled a bunch of bruised, discarded lettuce leaves from their tattered canvas bags. David took a big gulp of cold tap water, looking excited. “Sarah was so fast today. She grabbed these from the supermarket dumpster before anyone else. They’re fresher than usual!” I looked at them, but my mind was completely blank. Sarah pulled a gourmet cupcake from her bag and placed it in my hand. “It’s your birthday today. We can’t afford a cake, but you should still have something sweet.” I held the heavy, beautifully frosted cupcake, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile. The words from the medical report kept spinning in my head. The sweet aroma of the frosting snapped me back to reality. I placed the cupcake in front of Austin. “Give it to Austin. I don’t really like sweets.” Austin pushed my hand back. “It’s your birthday, Chloe. You eat it. I’ll just take a tiny taste of the frosting to celebrate.” Saying that, he dipped his finger in the frosting and licked it. A gourmet cupcake like this cost as much as our grocery budget for a week. No matter what, I couldn’t swallow it. David and Sarah sat down at the table, gnawing on stale, yellowed bread. They refused to touch the boiled eggs I made. Looking at their mismatched, oversized clothes rescued from thrift store dumpsters, my heart ached with agonizing pain. The terror of knowing I was going to die was slowly washed away by sheer pity for my family. I wanted to beg my parents for comfort, but I chose to keep my mouth shut about the cancer. If my death meant one less mouth to feed, and if it could make their lives easier, then I was willing to die.

I just didn’t understand. We all worked so hard, so why were we always so poor? To save money when we were kids, David and Sarah moved us to a run-down trailer park on the edge of town. Almost every kid here came from extreme poverty. Their families put all their hopes on them. So, the kids here were incredibly tough and studied hard. Sarah never complained about the harsh life. Instead, she grabbed my hand excitedly. “In an environment like this, Chloe, you will definitely grow up to be strong and successful.” I turned to look at Austin, my innocent eyes wide. “I hope Austin will be as independent and strong as me.” But not long after, Austin fell and became paralyzed. I was consumed by guilt. I used to sit by Austin’s bed and slap myself hard across the face. I believed my stupid mouth had cursed him to be bedridden forever. To make up for it, I started working part-time while going to high school. But a student could only get the most brutal, lowest-paying gigs. In the scorching ninety-degree summer heat, I stood on the asphalt handing out flyers. When I was dying of thirst, I couldn’t even bear to spend a dollar on a bottle of water. I would pick up half-empty bottles discarded by strangers, saving the plastic bottles to sell later. To fight the homeless people for those plastic bottles, I was cornered in an alley. They stuffed trash into my mouth, kicking and punching me to warn me off. With a mouth full of blood and bruises all over my body, there were times I wanted to buy cheap painkillers. But I forced myself to save every single cent for Austin’s treatment. To numb the pain, I resorted to rubbing soot from trash fires into my cuts. When David and Sarah found out, they gave me a huge thumbs-up. “Our daughter has incredible resilience. You already have the mindset of a successful leader.” But they had no idea how excruciating it was to rub trash ash into open wounds. I didn’t dare make a sound. Even asking Sarah for a simple hug felt like a selfish luxury. Because every minute I wasted meant less money earned. I looked at the sweet cupcake on the table, a dark resolution forming in my mind. Just then, Sarah walked in, sat on the edge of my cot, and gently stroked my hair. She looked apologetic. “Someone recommended a great specialist. We’ve saved up a bit of money recently, and we want to take Austin out of town to see him. Maybe… just maybe, he can stand up again.” It was such a normal farewell, but it felt like a knife twisting in my chest. They had traveled to see doctors with Austin before, but this time, it would be my final goodbye. I pushed my grief aside, scrambled up, and pulled all the cash from my bag, forcing it into Sarah’s hands. Seeing Sarah’s shocked expression, I lied with red eyes. “It was just Valentine’s Day. A lot of rich couples got into fights and threw away expensive gifts. I got lucky, found some, and sold them.” Sarah hugged me, her face full of pride. “Take care of yourself at home. We’ll be back soon.” I leaned against the window frame, watching their figures slowly disappear down the dusty road. Only then did I realize that in my desperation to save Austin, I hadn’t left a single dollar for myself. Tears streamed down my face. Through the blur, I saw the plastic bag that had wrapped the cupcake on the table. I took a tiny bite of the remaining cupcake. The sweetness exploded in my mouth. To have Sarah’s final gesture of love was enough for me. I pulled the plastic bag over my head and slowly pulled it tight around my neck. The sweet smell of vanilla made me feel like I was drifting into a dream. My hands hesitated. But I quickly forced myself to focus. This family couldn’t afford another sick person. Without me as a burden, they could focus entirely on curing Austin. I clenched my teeth and pulled the plastic tight. Soon, the dim light in the room was swallowed by an endless, silent darkness.

When I woke up again, I felt weightless. When I saw a stiff, pale version of myself lying on the cot, I finally realized I was dead. I floated closer. My face was a sickly blue. Already malnourished, I looked even uglier in death. But my only thought was: *How is Austin doing?* As that thought consumed me, I suddenly vanished and reappeared at a basketball court. Before I could process why my ghost was teleporting, I saw David and Sarah sitting in the VIP stands, beaming with joy. They were wearing expensive, designer clothes. Even if our family had saved for a lifetime, we couldn’t have afforded a single sleeve of those outfits. I floated in front of them, but they looked like total strangers. Sarah’s bright red lipstick was striking, and her perfectly styled blonde waves made her look exactly like a wealthy socialite. Confused, I followed their gaze down to the court. There, I saw my paralyzed brother, Austin, running and dribbling the ball with incredible agility. I recognized the jersey he was wearing. It was a limited-edition designer brand that money could barely buy. My mind spun. Suddenly, the buzzer sounded. David and Sarah rushed onto the court, throwing their arms around Austin with pure adoration. “Austin! We didn’t spend all those years taking you around the world for nothing!” But Austin was paralyzed… how did he travel the world? Even in my confusion, seeing him healthy made me ecstatic. “Austin! You’re okay? How did you get better?” But no matter how loud I screamed, they didn’t react. Austin hugged Sarah. “Mom, I was going crazy pretending to be paralyzed for so long. Thank God I could use those ‘doctor visits’ as an excuse to travel and actually stretch my legs.” David and Sarah cupped his face, overflowing with affection. “You’ve worked so hard, son. Today, we have a gift for you.” David pulled out a deed. It was for a luxury mansion in the city’s most exclusive gated community. I remembered that place. I had stood outside its gates once, staring in awe. Back then, Sarah had told me, “We won’t be poor forever, Chloe. If you work hard, you’ll live in a house like this one day.” But it turned out they didn’t need to work hard. They already owned it. Austin seemed to remember something and looked at them. “By the way, Chloe was crying when she got home yesterday. Did something happen to her?” Sarah instantly looked tense and grabbed his arm. “You didn’t blow your cover, did you? Our plan is almost complete. We can’t let it ruin now.” Austin shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ve played the part this long, I won’t disappoint you. But I still feel like Chloe is hiding something.” Sarah nodded, telling him not to overthink it. She said they would check on me when they got back. Full of questions, I followed them back to the mansion. The villa was blindingly bright, filled with maids rushing around. Someone even held out slippers for them, and the dining table was piled high with expensive delicacies. It turned out today was Austin’s engagement party. They had invited high society’s finest. Sarah stood next to David, whispering, “Chloe has been acting strange lately. She used to be so full of positive energy. And she handed me so much cash before we left… You don’t think she got it illegally, do you?” David wrapped an arm around her, speaking patiently. “No way. We raised her to be independent, and her morals are solid.” “Besides, Austin’s career is stable now, and Chloe is graduating in a few days. On Austin’s wedding day, we’ll tell her the truth. She’s inheriting a multi-million dollar company right out of college. She’ll probably think she’s dreaming.” Standing beside them, my tears fell silently onto the marble floor. *David, Sarah… I won’t be smiling. And I’m never waking up.*

The engagement party was a massive success, and they set the wedding date for a week later. After waving goodbye to the guests, David and Sarah pulled out their phones, looking slightly anxious. “We’ll be busy planning the wedding this week, so we can’t go back to the old place. We should call Chloe and let her know.” Sarah dialed my number eagerly, but it just kept ringing. I floated next to her, wanting to tell her I was right there. But my hand passed right through her shoulder. I could never hug her again. I recalled smelling expensive perfume on them back in the trailer park. They had always lied, saying they just ran into some rich ladies. I recalled the photos Sarah sent me—they were far too high-quality to have been taken on her cheap, cracked phone. And Austin… his legs had remained muscular and toned despite supposedly being paralyzed for years. It was all just a sick game of “poverty,” and I was the only actor who didn’t know it was a script. My grief suffocated me. But looking at their happy faces, a part of me felt relieved. If they were living well, I didn’t have to worry anymore. After a long time, I floated upstairs. At the end of the hallway was a bedroom. I walked in. The layout was incredibly familiar. It was decorated exactly like the dream room I had sketched in my notebook years ago. On the nightstand was a framed photo of the four of us. My school trophies and certificates from childhood were neatly arranged on the desk. Just then, a cat wandered into the room. Even the cat was the exact breed I had drawn. They remembered every single dream I had. They had built it all for me. This room was a beautiful fairytale, but I could only watch. I could never touch it. Loud footsteps echoed in the hallway. I turned around. Several personal stylists in sharp suits walked in, holding a row of gorgeous designer gowns. David, Sarah, and Austin stood before the outfits. “Our suits are ready. Now, let’s choose Chloe’s dress. This will be our big surprise for her.” Looking at the price tags, each dress cost more than I used to earn in a year of grueling labor. Now, a whole rack of them was mine. Austin picked up a stunning blue gown with a long train. “This blue one is perfect for Chloe. She’s so fair, she’ll look like royalty in this.” David shook his head. He pulled out a white tulle gown. “No, Chloe should wear this one. When she was little, she would stare at the dolls in the boutique window for hours. She’ll love the tulle.” Austin stared at the rack for a moment, then grabbed a pastel pink gown. “You guys still don’t get Chloe. Pink is her absolute favorite. She’s wanted pink things since she was a toddler.” “But light colors get dirty too easily. To save money, she always forced herself to choose dark, ugly clothes. Her classmates used to call her a cheap, dirty peasant because of it.” David and Sarah looked pained, exchanging a sad look before agreeing with Austin. In the blink of an eye, it was Austin’s wedding day. They had been too busy to check on me all week. On the morning of the wedding, Sarah happily sent the family chauffeur to fetch me. She whispered to the driver, “When you get there, don’t tell her who sent you. We want to give her the surprise of her life.” The driver nodded and sped off to the trailer park to pick up the “secret heiress.” But after hours of waiting, I never arrived. Instead, the chauffeur burst through the mansion doors, his face pale with horror. “Ma’am… Sir… something terrible has happened. The trailer is surrounded by police. Chloe… Chloe is dead.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442016”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

All because Ethan Cross was obsessed with absolute fairness. For the five years of our marriage, every single decision in our household had to be decided by the roll of a die. Until my best friend, Chloe, texted me. She said Ethan was out on the streets, mobilizing a massive search party to find his first love’s lost dog. “That’s impossible!” I replied instinctively. “I just won the roll against him.” “He promised he would personally escort our son’s donor heart from the docks to the hospital. He should be arriving any minute.” But a phone call from our contact at the harbor slapped me right in the face. “Dr. Miller, I still haven’t seen Mr. Cross! We can’t delay young Leo’s surgery!” “There are too many dangerous eyes on this donor heart. It’s only safe if Mr. Cross escorts it himself.” Ethan’s phone went straight to voicemail. Left with no choice, I tracked his GPS location and drove out to find him. When I arrived, I saw him holding a sobbing Scarlett Vance tightly in his arms, while directing a fleet of luxury SUVs to fan out across the streets. “If you don’t find Buster—mine and Scarlett’s baby—you all know the consequences!” Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. This man, whose very life I had saved with my own medical skills, wasn’t worth it anymore. I was done.

As the search fleet sped away, Ethan turned to get into the driver’s seat. I rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “Ethan!” He spun around, startled. “Vivian? Why aren’t you at the hospital?” “I should be asking you that!” I grit my teeth, fighting back tears. “You promised me you would go to the docks to get Leo’s heart!” Leo was our four-year-old son. He inherited a congenital heart defect and had been on the transplant waiting list for a year. If his condition hadn’t suddenly taken a turn for the worse last month, we wouldn’t have had to spend millions coordinating a private international organ transfer. Ethan avoided my gaze, looking slightly guilty. “Vivian…” “You know how many competitors are waiting for this heart to fail! Why are you wasting crucial time helping this woman find a dog?” Hearing my words, the girl clutching his coat stopped crying. She shrank back into Ethan’s chest, trembling like a victim. “Watch your mouth, Vivian! Scarlett is a dear friend of mine!” Ethan’s voice turned cold. “Buster isn’t just a dog. He is our baby!” “If anything happens to him, Scarlett will break down!” Our baby? I carried Leo for ten months, nurtured him through four agonizing years of sickness, and he didn’t even rank above a dog in Ethan’s eyes? “No! I don’t care what you say today, you are going to the docks and bringing that heart to the hospital!” I blocked his car door with my body. “Once I’m in the operating room saving Leo, you can go find whatever dog you want—” “Stop being hysterical!” Ethan grabbed my collar and shoved me aside. I stumbled, nearly crashing onto the hard pavement. “Ethan!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “What happened to your absolute fairness? I won the roll this morning!” The winner calls the shots. That was Ethan’s golden rule. When we got married, he wanted me to resign from the hospital to be his private on-call doctor. I lost the roll, so I resigned. The day I went into labor, he got a call saying Scarlett was injured. He wanted to leave. We rolled, and I lost again. When my mother was rushed to the ER with a severe concussion, Scarlett’s car happened to break down on the highway. I rolled, and I still lost. But today, for the first time in three years, I finally won. He had agreed to cancel his plans of fixing Scarlett’s clogged toilet and promised to fetch Leo’s life-saving heart. Yet, he was breaking his word. “Play fair!” I blocked him again. “Are you going to break your own sacred rule?” Ethan paused. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his signature golden die, and handed it to me. “You win, you call the shots. Same as always.” He was so calm, so detached. My hands shook as I took the heavy gold metal. *I have to win,* I prayed in my heart. *Please.* The die rolled across his palms. The seconds felt like hours, sweat slicking my hands. But when it stopped, the single red dot facing upward made my vision go black. Before I could process it, Ethan snatched the die back. “No, that doesn’t count!” I fell to my knees on the gravel, grabbing his coat. “The asphalt is uneven! Let’s roll again, please…” “Vivian, you play, you accept the loss.” He took a step forward. I clung to his leg desperately. “I’m begging you, Ethan. Please!” “In the eight years I’ve known you, I have never begged you for anything. If Leo doesn’t get this surgery today, he will die!” Ethan paused. He didn’t look back, but he pulled out his phone. “Carter, take a car and fetch the boy’s transplant box from the docks.” Then he looked down at me. “Are you satisfied now?” “No!” My eyes were bloodshot. “The docks are dangerous. Only you, Ethan Cross, have the authority to get that heart out safely!” “Even if Carter drives your car, everyone knows you’re here looking for a damn dog! Do you think our enemies are stupid?” “Ethan, is that dog really more important than your own son’s life?” “Yes!” Ethan snapped. “Buster only responds to my scent and Scarlett’s!” He pointed a finger at my forehead. “Vivian, the more time you waste throwing this tantrum, the less of a chance your son has to survive!” With that, he brushed me off and slammed the car door shut. The words “your son” froze me to the core. I chose this man. I gave birth to this child. And I rolled the die myself. Who else could I blame for my rotten luck? The SUV roared to life, leaving me in a cloud of dust. As the dust settled, something caught the streetlights. I leaned down and picked up the golden die he had dropped in his haste. I shook it instinctively, and my heart sank into an abyss.

Carter drove like a maniac, clutching the steering wheel as the cooler box sat secured in the passenger seat. I checked my watch. We could still make it! At sixty miles an hour, we were only thirty minutes away from the hospital. The freezing wind whipped through the cracked window. I shoved my hands into my pockets and felt the cold weight of the golden die. Ethan had carried it for twenty years. Its edges were worn smooth. He always spoke of fairness, and I had almost convinced myself that his obsession was just a harmless quirk of his dangerous lifestyle. But just now, when I shook it in the quiet car, I felt a tiny, faint click from inside. “Carter,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “You’ve been with Ethan for ten years, right?” “Yes, Mrs. Cross.” “Do you know how to rig a die?” Carter answered honestly, suspecting nothing. “It’s simple, ma’am. You just drill a tiny hole and insert a sliding lead pin inside.” “Whichever number you want to roll, you just tap the pin to the opposite side. Gravity does the rest.” I froze. My fingers trembled as I lightly tapped the die against my palm. I felt the subtle shift of weight. I rolled it onto the dashboard. It stopped perfectly on the number 3—the exact number I wanted. The blood in my veins turned to ice. There was never any fairness. The outcome had always been in Ethan’s hands. What he rolled simply depended on what he valued. He didn’t value my career. He didn’t care about my safety during childbirth. He didn’t care if my mother lived or died. To him, I never had any privilege. “Mrs. Cross, the road ahead is blocked.” The sudden screech of brakes pulled me back to reality. I leaned out the window. There was a barricade ahead. Along with the traffic cops, I immediately recognized Ethan’s men. One of them was handing a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills to a driver, who smiled and turned his car around. “What’s going on?” I asked. “Ma’am,” the guard said, recognizing me. “Mr. Cross had the police department shut down this street. No vehicles are allowed through.” Ethan had connections with the local precinct. Shutting down a minor street in this district was easy for him. But this was the fastest route to the hospital. “Move!” My voice shook violently. “My son’s heart is in this car! If anything goes wrong, your life won’t be enough to pay for it!” “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cross. Mr. Cross’s orders are absolute. The road stays closed until Buster is found.” Buster. That damn dog again. With shaking hands, I dialed Ethan’s number. He picked up, his tone utterly dismissive. “Just take a detour, Vivian,” he sighed impatiently. “I need to find Buster before it gets dark.” “A detour will add an hour and a half! The donor heart will decay!” But on the other end, he was already distracted, murmuring sweet words to soothe a crying Scarlett. “You have a heart condition too! You know how painful a heart attack is!” I screamed into the receiver. “Ethan, do you not care if Leo dies?” “If he can’t even handle a little pain, he doesn’t deserve to be a Cross!” The man’s harsh roar left me stunned. Right. I had forgotten. He had always been like this—a ruthless, arrogant tyrant. Yet, his very life was something I had dragged back from the gates of hell. I was the one who found him collapsed and suffocating in a casino bathroom years ago. I was the one who risked my medical license, performing an emergency bypass in a locked-down clinic at three in the morning. I was the one who bore the insults of my own family, running through dangerous neighborhoods to source his black-market cardiac meds, even offending local syndicates for him. On the night he proposed, he had pulled out his golden die for the first time. He gave me a playful wink. “If you roll a higher number, I’ll give you a week to think about it. If you lose, you put on this ring and become Mrs. Cross right now.” Until today, I actually believed that night was a beautiful twist of fate. It turned out that for five years, I was just a clown being played in the palm of his hand. “Let’s roll a virtual die on Snapchat,” I said, closing my eyes. “If I win, you open the road. If you win, I’ll turn around.” “No way,” he said coldly. “I only trust real dice.” Suddenly, a sharp scream came through the receiver. “Scarlett!” Ethan’s voice panicked—a tone I rarely heard. “Why did you climb up that dirt slope? Did you hurt your ankle?” I hadn’t heard him speak with such tenderness in years. The call went dead. The dial tone beeped in my ear, cold and mocking. “Take the detour, Carter,” I whispered. *** I didn’t get home until midnight. I walked into the quiet house, turned on the lights, changed my shoes, and began picking up Leo’s scattered toys from the living room floor. The front door clicked open. The moment Ethan saw me, the exhaustion on his face morphed into pure rage. “Why the hell weren’t you answering my calls or texts?” I blinked, pulling out my phone. I had over a hundred missed calls from him. “You found Buster, I assume. That’s good,” I said, my voice completely hoarse. “Make sure to buy him some expensive treats. I’m going to take a shower.” My legs were shaking so badly I had to lean against the wall to stand. “Vivian, I’m talking to you!” Ethan marched over and grabbed my shoulder. “How is Leo? Was the surgery a success?” My throat tightened, a metallic taste of blood rising in my mouth. It physically hurt to breathe as I forced the words out. “He’s dead.” Ethan’s pupils contracted. His grip on my shoulder tightened. “What… what did you say?” “Our Leo is dead,” I said slowly, looking him dead in the eyes. “The donor heart decayed because it took too long. He went into cardiac arrest, and he didn’t make it.” Ethan’s mouth opened, but no sound came out except a strained, choked gasp. I summoned every ounce of my remaining strength and pushed his hand off me. “I want a divorce.”

Ethan stumbled back a step, nearly losing his footing under the double blow. “Our son just died, and you want a divorce?” Looking at the devastation in his eyes, I found it hilarious. “You were the one who had to find a dog. You were the one who ordered the roadblock. And now you’re blaming me?” “I didn’t know it would be this serious!” his eyes welled with tears. “Right. You didn’t know,” I said, my voice dead and flat. “After all, every time Leo had an episode, you managed to win the roll and leave to be with Scarlett.” Ethan choked on his words. “Vivian, you’re grieving. You can blame me all you want,” he said, reaching out to pull me into his arms. “But there’s no need to talk about divorce. We’ve been together for five years.” “We’ve been married for five years, and we dated for seven before that,” I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “In all those years, did you ever once break your ‘rules’ for me?” “I wanted to go back to the hospital, but you forced me to be your private doctor.” “I was in labor, and you left to bandage Scarlett’s sprained ankle.” “My mother got a concussion, and you were busy changing Scarlett’s flat tire.” “Ethan, as your wife, I never received an ounce of your care.” My voice felt incredibly heavy. “Living under your version of ‘fairness’ has exhausted me.” Ethan stared at me for a long time. The guilt in his eyes slowly hardened into cold arrogance. “Are you sure about this?” I nodded. I didn’t even have the energy to say “yes” anymore. “Then we do this the old-fashioned way.” His voice was freezing. “If you win the roll, I’ll sign.” He held out the golden die. The same die I had quietly slipped back into his coat pocket earlier. “To keep it fair, you roll first.” Under his confident gaze, I rolled. For the first time in our marriage, it landed on a perfect 6. “How is that possible?” His eyes went wide. “How did you roll a six?” “Why not? What did you expect me to roll, Mr. Cross? A one?” I casually manipulated the hidden pin inside the metal, rolling it again. It stopped precisely on the single red dot. Ethan stared at me, dumbfounded. “Just tell me what number you want. I can make it land on whatever you desire.” I slammed the die onto the marble coffee table, picked up a heavy metal trophy, and smashed it to pieces. A tiny metal pin rolled out and stopped near his shoe. I picked it up and held it in front of his face. “Five years, Ethan. You used this cheap trick to toy with my life for five years.” He opened his mouth to defend himself, but I raised a hand to cut him off. “Save your breath. You play, you accept the loss. I’ll have the divorce papers sent to your office once I sign them.” “Fine. Great.” Ethan laughed bitterly, his pride wounded. “Then pack your bags and get the hell out of my house. You want a divorce? You leave with absolutely nothing.” I never planned on taking a single dime of his dirty money anyway. But as I dragged my suitcase toward the door, he called out to me. “I just called the hospital,” he said coldly. “Leo’s body belongs to me. You have no right to touch him.” “What did you say?” “He carries the Cross name. And you’re just an unemployed housewife,” Ethan sneered. “You don’t even have the money to buy him a proper casket. What makes you think you’re qualified to handle his funeral?” I marched back and slapped him across the face. “Are you even human? You’re using our son’s body to force me back?” “So what if I am?” Ethan wiped a smear of blood from his lip. “If you take back the divorce, I’ll let you attend his funeral.” “Go to hell!” My chest heaved. “You are the monster who killed Leo. You don’t deserve to touch him!” “Fine,” Ethan shrugged. “Let’s make a bet. Winner calls the shots.” “Three days from now, on the VIP cruise ship in the harbor. I’ll be waiting.” He stepped closer, whispering in my ear, “But the buy-in is five hundred thousand dollars. Can an unemployed doctor like you even afford the seat?” That night, I dialed the international line for St. Mary’s Hospital in Germany. “Five hundred thousand dollars for a three-year contract, plus my exclusive patent for the cardiac formula. You get me and the formula. It’s a win-win.”

Three days later, I walked into the VIP lounge of the luxury cruise ship, carrying a briefcase. Ethan was lounging on the center leather sofa, surrounded by a thick cloud of cigar smoke. When I dumped the five hundred thousand dollars in cash onto the green felt table, the surrounding crowd erupted into laughter. “Mr. Cross, your ex-wife is hilarious. Does she not know we don’t play for petty cash here?” *Smack!* A loud slap echoed through the room. The man who had spoken was sent stumbling, a bright red handprint burning on his cheek. Ethan sat back down, casually rubbing his palm. “Remind me, what did you just call her?” “She’s… she’s your wife, sir…” the man stammered, clutching his face in terror. Scarlett Vance walked in, wearing a low-cut red silk dress and towering stiletto heels. “Just take the cash,” she purred, brushing her hand against Ethan’s jaw. She blew a puff of cigarette smoke into his face. “Consider it a little gift from Vivian to buy Buster some treats. Right, Ethan?” Ethan smiled, silently giving his consent. I turned away from them, checking the leather cup and the dice. “Everything looks fine. Let’s begin.” First round. Liar’s Dice. Ethan called three 3s. I raised it to four. He leaned forward, staring at me intensity. “When Leo passed away… did it hurt?” The cup in my hand wobbled slightly. “You should know,” I said, looking up. “You have the same condition.” “Did it hurt as bad as my attacks?” he pressed on, his voice dropping. “Like someone reaching into your chest and crushing your heart into pieces?” I closed my eyes, my palms slick with sweat. “Five 3s,” I called. “Show them,” Ethan said instantly, revealing his dice. I lost the first round. “You’re distracted,” Ethan leaned back on the sofa. “Focus on the next round.” The second round began. I played defensively. But Ethan kept raising the stakes, pushing from three 4s all the way to six 4s. “The morgue called me, asking when to cremate him,” he said casually. “I told them to wait until I finish this game.” “Seven 4s,” I said, keeping my voice dead steady. He revealed his dice. He didn’t expect me to actually have them. I won the second round. “One to one,” the dealer announced. By the final round, Ethan’s hand was shaking slightly as he shook the cup. “I actually went to see him after he died,” Ethan murmured softly. “He looked so much like you. Especially with his eyes closed.” The cold sea breeze swept through the open deck doors, making my spine shudder. “Three 6s,” I called. “Four,” he followed. “If I hadn’t closed that street that day, what would we be doing right now?” Ethan choked slightly. “Would you still be my wife? Would the three of us still be a happy family?” “Five 6s,” I raised my voice. “Six.” Suddenly, the sound of rolling wheels echoed from the corridor outside. Through the glass partition, I saw a small, brown wooden coffin being rolled by. It was only four feet long, covered in a white sheet. My hand slipped. The cup tipped over. Reveal. I had two 6s. He had three. But I had called six. “I win,” Ethan said, lifting his cup with a complicated look. “Vivian, you still can’t beat me.” “Make your choice,” he stared at me. “Tear up the divorce papers, and we’ll bury Leo together.” “Or get off my ship. You won’t be allowed near his funeral.” Right then, the heavy double doors of the VIP room were kicked open by heavily armed SWAT officers. “Nobody move! Hands in the air! We have a warrant for illegal high-stakes gambling!” “What a joke!” Ethan slammed his hand on the table. “My ship is in international waters. And this is a private game with no money exchanged. You have no jurisdiction here!” “International waters?” the captain took off his mask, smirking. “Mr. Cross, I suggest you take a look outside.” Ethan rushed to the deck. The glowing neon skyline of the harbor was right in front of him. “Actually, I had five hundred and twenty thousand dollars,” I whispered, walking up behind him. “The extra twenty thousand was more than enough to convince your captain to turn the ship back.” “And one more thing.” I patted his shoulder. “The five hundred thousand dollars Scarlett took from me? That counts as a monetary transaction. It’s officially a crime.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442017”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On the night of our engagement banquet, in front of the entire high society of New York, Julian Vance handed over “The Siren’s Lament”—a priceless, legendary violin—to his childhood sweetheart, Bianca Frost. “Bianca is starting her world tour tomorrow. She needs this violin more than you do,” he said. “You’ve always been the sensible one, Valerie. Just bear with it this once.” I looked at the man I had loved for five years and nodded calmly. “Okay.” Half an hour later, in the empty backstage dressing room. Bianca didn’t just smash that legendary violin to pieces. She also had her thugs stomp on my right hand, crushing the bones. Julian’s cousin, Tyler, held my head down, forcing me to kneel and beg Bianca for forgiveness. Julian’s mother slapped me so hard my eardrum ruptured, calling me a greedy, low-class gold digger. They ruthlessly trampled on my dignity and destroyed my dreams. Because in their eyes, I was just a penniless orphan with no background. But what they didn’t know… I wasn’t just a prodigy violinist. I was also the sole heiress of the Sterling family—the most powerful old-money empire in New York—who had been searching for me for twenty years. My hand is ruined. And the Vance family’s century-old empire has officially reached its end.

The brilliant crystal chandeliers lit up the hotel grand ballroom as bright as day. Today was the anniversary celebration of the Vance Group. It was also the day Julian had promised to formally propose to me. I stood quietly at the edge of the stage, wearing a haute couture white gown. My fingers tightly gripped the sheet music I had spent six months preparing. Originally, I was supposed to play a song for him tonight on “The Siren’s Lament,” the legendary antique violin he had bought at an auction. But now. That $45 million masterpiece was resting quietly in Bianca Frost’s arms. Under the spotlight. Julian stood in his sharp black tuxedo. His features were cold and handsome, looking like a god. He was leaning down, gently adjusting the violin strings for Bianca. Standing together, they looked like the perfect couple. The guests below whispered among themselves. “I thought Mr. Vance was proposing to that orphan girlfriend of his, Valerie Sterling, tonight?” “What do you know? Miss Frost is Julian’s childhood sweetheart. She just got back from her studies in Vienna last month.” “Exactly. A penniless orphan doesn’t belong in a prestigious family like the Vances anyway.” “And ‘The Siren’s Lament’ is a masterpiece. Only a high-born lady like Bianca deserves it.” Every single word. Like a blunt, rusty knife. Slowly and cruelly carving into my heart. I took a deep breath. I forced down the bitterness in my throat. I turned around and walked silently into the dimly lit backstage. There were no spotlights here. No mocking glances. Only endless, suffocating coldness. I sat in front of the vanity mirror, looking at my pale reflection. Five years. I had been by Julian’s side for five long years. From when he had absolutely nothing, to his massive success today. I thought my warmth could finally melt this glacier of a man. But the moment Bianca returned. All my sacrifices became a pathetic joke. Outside the door, a light patter of footsteps approached. Accompanied by the sharp click of high heels. The dressing room door was pushed open.

Bianca walked in, wearing the red gown that was originally tailored for me. The diamonds on the skirt were still blindingly bright even in the dim light. She carried “The Siren’s Lament” in her hand. Like she was holding a cheap toy. She walked up to me. Looking down at me with pure disdain. “See this, Valerie?” “Julian’s heart has always belonged to me.” “So what if you stayed by his side for five years?” “All it takes is one look from me, and he willingly hands this violin over.” I raised my eyes. I looked at her calmly. There was no anger, no hysteria. “Since he gave it to you, keep it.” “It’s what he owes you, and it’s what I’m done paying him.” “From now on, Julian and I are completely even.” Bianca froze. She clearly didn’t expect me to be this calm. Her heavily made-up face instantly contorted with rage. “Even?” “What makes you think you’re worthy of talking about being ‘even’ with Julian?” “You were just a temporary plaything to cure his loneliness. A cheap substitute who could never be shown in public!” The more she spoke, the more agitated she became. She suddenly raised the violin high in the air. “Don’t you call yourself a prodigy violinist?” “Didn’t you want to use this violin to show off tonight?” “I will never let you have your way!” Before she finished her sentence. With all her might. She slammed the $45 million antique violin hard onto the solid marble floor.

“SMASH!” A sickening, heavy crash echoed through the empty dressing room. Wood splinters flew everywhere. The strings snapped with a sharp hiss. “The Siren’s Lament”—a masterpiece that had survived centuries of history and was treasured by legendary musicians. In an instant, it was shattered into pieces. Reduced to a pile of worthless scrap wood. I stood up abruptly. My pupils dilated. My heart felt like it was being squeezed to death by an invisible hand. That wasn’t just a violin. It was a treasure of the musical world. The soulmate I had dreamed of playing for countless days and nights. “Bianca, are you insane?!” I grit my teeth, my voice trembling violently. Looking at the mess on the floor. Bianca’s eyes suddenly turned red. Heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. She threw herself onto the floor. Covering her face, she began to wail hysterically. “Valerie, I know you hate me for taking this violin.” “But how could you smash it?!” “Julian spent a fortune at the auction for this!” “How could you be so cruel?!” I watched her pathetic acting with cold detachment. I felt utterly disgusted. Right then. The dressing room door was kicked open with a loud bang. Julian’s cousin, Tyler Vance, rushed in with several burly bodyguards. He immediately saw Bianca crying on the floor. And the shattered pieces of wood. Tyler’s face darkened instantly. He stormed over. Pointing a finger right at my face, he roared. “Valerie, are you out of your mind?!” “Julian was nice enough to let you work in his company, and you dare to bully Bianca?!” “You even smashed such an expensive violin!” “Can you even afford to pay for this, you worthless gold digger?!”

I looked at Tyler with cold eyes. This was the man who used to call me “sister-in-law” with a fake smile. Now, he was barking like a rabid dog. “She smashed it herself,” I said. My voice was flat. Without a single shred of emotion. “Cut the crap!” Tyler roared. “Bianca is too sweet to ever destroy something Julian gave her!” “You’re just consumed by jealousy! If you can’t have it, you destroy it!” Bianca sobbed right on cue. She leaned weakly against Tyler’s leg. “Tyler, don’t blame Valerie.” “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have accepted the violin.” “If I hadn’t taken it, Valerie wouldn’t have gotten angry, and the violin wouldn’t be broken.” Her manipulative words. Instantly set Tyler’s anger ablaze. “Bianca, you’re too kind. That’s why trash like her dares to step all over you!” Tyler turned back. His eyes gleamed with malice as he glared at me. “Valerie, get on your knees!” “Bow down and beg Bianca for forgiveness!” “And then, you will pay back every single cent this violin is worth!” I felt like I was hearing the most ridiculous joke in the world. I couldn’t help but chuckle coldly. “Make me kneel?” “Who do you think you are, Tyler?” “Even if Julian stood right here, he wouldn’t have the right to make me kneel!” “SLAP!” Before I could finish my sentence. A heavy slap landed brutally on my face. The sheer force of it. Knocked me straight to the ground. My ears rang violently. The taste of metallic blood filled my mouth. Holding my bruised cheek, I looked up. And saw Victoria Vance, Julian’s mother, walking in.

Victoria was wearing a dark red designer dress. A priceless emerald necklace hung around her neck. She looked down at me. Her eyes were filled with absolute disgust and contempt. “You ungrateful rat!” “You’re at death’s door and you still dare to talk back!” “Our family has supported you for five years, and this is how you repay us?” “Smashing my son’s violin and bullying Bianca!” “Today, I’ll teach you some manners since your dead parents clearly failed to do so!” Saying that, she raised her high-heeled foot. And kicked me squarely in the shoulder without hesitation. I groaned in pain. My body flew backward. My spine crashed heavily against the sharp corner of the vanity table. Agonizing pain shot through my entire body. “Victoria, please don’t get angry. It’s not worth ruining your health over her,” Bianca fake-whispered, stepping forward to support Victoria. But a smug, nasty smirk flashed across her face. “Bianca, sweetheart, you’re always so thoughtful.” Victoria patted Bianca’s hand. When she looked back at me, her eyes turned vicious again. “Tyler, pin her down!” “If she doesn’t get on her knees and beg Bianca for mercy today, she isn’t walking out of this room!” Hearing this. Tyler immediately signaled the bodyguards behind him. Two massive bodyguards rushed forward. They grabbed my shoulders from both sides, pinning me down. They dragged me brutally across the floor and forced me in front of Bianca. “Let go of me!” I struggled with everything I had. But against their sheer physical strength. I couldn’t break free. “Kneel!” Tyler stepped up behind me. And kicked me violently in the back of my knees.

“THUD.” I was forced onto the freezing marble floor. My knees crashed directly onto the shattered wooden shards of the violin. Sharp wooden splinters stabbed deep into my flesh. Blood instantly stained my white dress bright red. I clenched my teeth. I forced my spine straight. Refusing to bow my head. “Quite a stubborn one, aren’t you?” Tyler sneered. He reached out, grabbed my hair, and yanked it backward with brutal force. A tearing pain shot through my scalp. I was forced to look up, meeting Bianca’s malice-filled eyes. “Valerie, aren’t you supposed to be so proud?” “Didn’t you think you were so special just because you can play the violin?” Bianca walked up to me. She slowly squatted down. Lowering her voice so only the two of us could hear. “To be honest, yes, I smashed the violin.” “I just wanted you to know that as long as I want it, everything that belongs to Julian is mine.” “Including your dignity, and your pride.” “I can step on them and crush them into dust whenever I want!” She stood up, instantly switching back to her fragile, pitiful act. “Valerie, just apologize.” “If you apologize, I’ll pay for the violin for you.” “You’re just an orphan. How could you ever afford $45 million?” Victoria sneered. “Bianca, you’re just too soft-hearted.” “An ungrateful stray like her deserves to rot in prison!” “Tyler, since she refuses to bow.” “Give her a real lesson!” “Make sure she never forgets this!”

A cruel excitement flashed in Tyler’s eyes. He let go of my hair. His gaze fell directly on my right hand resting on the floor. That was a hand praised by countless music critics as “kissed by God.” Slender, pale, perfectly proportioned. A hand born solely for the violin. “Julian said your hands are the most important thing to you.” Tyler smiled wickedly. “Since you ruined Bianca’s violin.” “I guess you won’t be needing these hands anymore.” He raised his heavy leather shoe. Aimed right at my right hand. And stomped down with full force. “No!” My eyes widened in pure terror. Fear completely consumed me. I desperately tried to pull my hand back. But the two bodyguards pinned my arms down flat. I couldn’t move an inch. “CRACK!” The sickening sound of bones shattering. Echoed clearly in the dead silent dressing room.

“AHHHHHHH!!!” A piercing scream ripped from my throat. The pain of my fingers being crushed. Instantly shot through every nerve in my body. My mind went completely blank. My vision began to blur. Tyler kept twisting his boot on my hand. As if he were crushing a pathetic insect. “Does it hurt?” “Good!” “That’s what you get for crossing Bianca!” Blood. Bright, hot blood. Oozed from my crushed fingers. Dripping onto the cold marble floor. Like blooming red roses on snow. My body convulsed in agony. Cold sweat drenched my back. Even my breath tasted like thick, copper blood. My hand… The hand I valued more than my own life. Was completely ruined. “Stop… please… stop…” I gasped out, my voice trembling and weak. But nobody showed a shred of mercy. Victoria watched with cold indifference. As if she were watching a boring movie. Bianca stood behind Tyler. A savage, triumphant smile playing on her lips. “You brought this on yourself, Valerie.” “Aren’t you a genius?” “Let’s see you hold a cup after this, let alone a violin!”

Tyler finally lifted his boot. My right hand was a bloody, mangled mess. My finger bones were twisted at horrific angles. Swelling rapidly. I collapsed onto the floor like a ragdoll. Gasping heavily for air. Every single breath sent waves of unbearable agony through my body. Despair. Suffocating, absolute despair swallowed me whole. The dream I took pride in. The passion I lived for. At this very moment, was stomped into nothingness. “What is going on here?” Suddenly, a cold, deep male voice came from the doorway. It was Julian. He pushed the door open and walked in. Followed by several high-level executives from the company. When he saw the shattered violin and me lying in a pool of blood. He froze in his tracks. His pupils shrank. “Valerie…” He instinctively stepped toward me. But Bianca, like a frightened bird, threw herself into his arms. “Julian!” “You’re finally here!” “Valerie… she went crazy!” “She didn’t just smash the violin you gave me, she even tried to attack me!” “If Tyler and Victoria hadn’t arrived in time, I don’t know what she would have done to me…” She sobbed hysterically. Her body trembling in Julian’s embrace.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “441574”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My husband, Sean Sterling, pressed his face gently against Jessica Vance’s belly. She was wearing my maternity dress, sitting on the sofa I bought with my own money, living in the home that used to be mine. I floated right above the crystal chandelier, watching them, completely bored. Three years ago, I was pregnant with his child too. Seven months along. The baby had just started kicking me. But then, a thin steel wire was choked into my throat, and my baby bled out into nothingness before I even drew my last breath. It was Jessica—his current, precious wife—who did it. Sean had no idea. He thought I was just a cold-hearted Mafia princess who ran off with millions. He thought I betrayed his partner. He thought I was evil incarnate. I was kicked out of my own family for him. My brother Jayden went blind trying to save his life. But Sean never believed me. He only believed Jessica. So, after I died, my soul became trapped by his side. It had been three years. But today was a little different. In the police interrogation room, a cold case had just been cracked open. Someone pointed at Jessica’s name and called her the real traitor. When Sean heard this, he squeezed the glass in his hand so hard it shattered. Blood dripped from his palm, staining the interrogation table. I counted the drops. Seven drops. My baby was exactly seven months old when he died. I wondered if it was just a coincidence, or if God had finally remembered me.

“A woman like Vivian Hall has blood all over her hands. You think she’s worth framing Jessica for?” Sean’s voice was ice-cold. He pulled out a handkerchief and calmly wiped the glass shards from his bleeding knuckles. Ghost, chained to the interrogation chair, burst into a hysterical laugh. His handcuffs rattled loudly against the metal table. “You really think that little Mafia princess ran away with your money, Detective?” Ghost spat out a mouthful of bloody phlegm. “Your lovely wife paid me two million dollars to drag Vivian to Warehouse 3. When I choked the life out of her with a wire, she was still carrying your kid in her belly!” Sean didn’t stop wiping his hands. He didn’t even blink. A mocking sneer played on his lips. “Vivian Hall? She’s a mob boss’s daughter. Criminality is in her blood.” “Three years ago, she stole thirty million, betrayed my partner Marcus, and fled. That’s exactly who she is.” “If you’re going to make up a story, at least make it believable.” “Meanwhile, Jessica is an honors graduate from the Police Academy. Clean record, bright future.” “One belongs in the gutter; the other lives in the light.” “You think the wild rants of a junkie like you can twist the truth? You think you can drag a cop’s wife into the mud?” He tossed the blood-stained handkerchief onto the table. “Keep interrogating him. Don’t stop until he tells the actual truth.” Sean pushed open the heavy iron door and walked out. I floated in the air right above the hallway, following him. He walked into the restroom, turned on the faucet, and washed his hands over and over again. The mirror reflected his sharp, handsome face. He looked completely unbothered. He said Jessica lived in the light and I belonged in the gutter. But he was once the man who held my hands and told me he loved my rebellious soul. He had said he would gladly step into the gutter just to be with me. When Marcus’s undercover identity was exposed, he was brutally murdered on the street. Sean held his cold body and sat in a pool of blood for an entire night. That was when Jessica appeared. Crying, she handed him a few blurry photos and heavily edited audio recordings. Every single piece of “evidence” pointed to me. Faced with his brother’s blood, Sean’s love for me shattered instantly. After that, his eyes held nothing but hatred for me. He didn’t arrest me, nor did he ask for a divorce. Instead, he systematically destroyed my life to prove his loyalty to the badge. He took down my father’s business piece by piece, tearing our family empire apart. My younger brother, Jayden, was blinded by rivals while trying to protect Sean. Yet, Sean dismissed Jayden’s sacrifice as a cheap, manipulative trick to win his sympathy. Later, Jayden was cornered by enemies again, hovering between life and death. I ran to the precinct to beg Sean. I knelt in the pouring rain for an entire night. When dawn broke, he finally walked out. He held a black umbrella, shielding Jessica from the storm. The rain beat down mercilessly on my face. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a disgust I had never seen before. “Vivian, this is what your family owes Marcus.” That was the last time I ever saw him alive. A few days later, I was dragged to Warehouse 3. Sean had walked into the breakroom now. Jessica was sitting on the bench, holding a warm cup of milk. Seeing him enter, she stood up immediately. “Sean, what happened to your hand?” She took his hand, her eyes turning red with worry. Sean held her hand back and gently guided her back to the seat. “It’s nothing. Just dropped a glass.” “Did Ghost confess?” Jessica asked tentatively. Sean let out a cold laugh. “He’s just a junkie trying to get a plea deal. He’s pointing fingers at everyone.” He reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “He actually claimed you hired him to kill Vivian.” Jessica’s body froze for a fraction of a second. But very quickly, tears began to stream down her face. “Sean… how could I ever do something like that? I know Vivian hurt Marcus, but I always thought she was just confused.” “When she took the money and left the country back then, I was honestly happy for her. I thought she was finally getting a fresh start.” Sean’s eyes darkened. “Don’t even say her name. It dirties your mouth.” He pulled Jessica into his arms, gently stroking her back. I hovered right above the vent, watching Sean protect Jessica’s stomach so carefully. I reached down and touched my own empty belly. Before that cold wire tightened around my neck, there was a tearing pain in my lower body. A tiny heartbeat, which had started before mine, disappeared from this world first. Ghost’s mocking laughter echoed in my memory. He had told me Sean thought my baby was dirty. I looked at Sean’s hand as he wiped away Jessica’s tears. I remembered a rainy night in Brooklyn years ago when I was cornered in an alley by a rival gang. It was this very hand—warm and firm—that pulled me into a dark alleyway behind some trash cans. He had shielded me with his body, his grip so tight it almost crushed my wrist. Mixed with the smell of blood and rain, he had whispered, “Don’t fear.” That hand used to be my only sanctuary in a dark world. Now, it was gently comforting my killer. I reached up and touched the invisible scar on my neck.

During the precinct briefing, the lead investigator from the federal task force slammed a stack of files onto the table. “Detective Sterling, the suspect, Ghost, keeps insisting that Jessica Vance hired him for the hit.” “According to protocol, Jessica must be placed under internal investigation.” Sean leaned back in his chair, spinning a pen in his hand. He didn’t even look at the files. “Agent Miller, I know the protocols.” “But if we start investigating a detective’s family just because some street thug opened his mouth, how are my guys supposed to do their jobs?” He stopped the pen with his fingertip. “I closed Vivian Hall’s missing person case three years ago myself.” “The travel records are crystal clear. She took thirty million dollars from the mob and took a boat to the Caribbean.” “Ghost claims she was killed in Warehouse 3. Where is the body?” Sean stood up, leaning his hands on the table, staring down the federal agent. “No body, no financial paper trail, just the word of a junkie.” “Agent Miller, if you want to investigate my wife, bring me real evidence.” I floated near the whiteboard, watching Sean defend my killer. I smiled silently. He would never know that his “innocent” wife was actually the daughter of the head of the Vance Syndicate—the city’s most ruthless crime family. She was the deepest mole ever planted in the NYPD. She had framed my father’s family—who never touched drugs or took innocent lives—for all the bloody crimes committed by the Vances. And that “travel record” Sean was so sure of? It was nothing but a cruel bargain Jessica forced upon me. The night Jayden was stabbed while shielding Sean, he was left clinging to life. But Sean had used his police connections to block every medical channel that could have saved my brother. Desperate, I knelt before Jessica. In the sterile white hallway of the hospital, she stood in her crisp uniform and tossed a plane ticket and a written confession at my feet. Her voice was as sweet as honey. “Sign it.” “Admit that you betrayed Marcus, and I’ll get the best surgeon in New York to save your brother.” I signed it. But the surgeon never came. Instead, someone unplugged Jayden’s ventilator. Though Jayden survived, the lack of oxygen caused permanent brain damage. He lost his sight completely, cast into eternal darkness. Jessica had stepped on my face with her polished boots, crushing my dignity into the cold tiles. She had leaned down and whispered in my ear: “Vivian, I forgot to tell you. Sean hates betrayal more than anything.” “Do you think he’ll believe a confession signed in your own hand, or will he believe me?” Back in his office, Sean locked the door. He loosened his tie and pulled open his bottom drawer. He took out the file at the very bottom—my missing person case from three years ago. He stared at my photo, his thumb unconsciously brushing against the corner of the paper. After a long time, he closed the file, his expression unreadable. He pressed his hand flat against the folder, his knuckles turning white as if trying to erase my name from the earth. But after a long struggle, all that came out of his tight jaw was a raspy whisper. “Vivian… you better stay gone.” I floated down in front of him, looking at the hatred and conflict in his eyes. “Because if you come back, I’ll put you behind bars myself… or will I go crazy for you all over again?” A wave of deep sadness washed over me. He didn’t know that I could never come back. I was already dead. The desk phone rang. He took a deep breath, and his voice instantly softened. “Hey, babe. Is the baby kicking again?” On the other end, Jessica’s voice sounded perfectly vulnerable. “Sean, I was cleaning out the storage unit and found an old gray sweater Vivian left behind.” “It makes me feel really uneasy. Can I just pack it away in a box?” Sean’s eyes went cold. “Her trash should have been thrown out long ago. Don’t touch it. I’ll come home and handle it.” He hung up, grabbed his keys, and rushed out. I followed him back to the apartment. Sean strode into the storage room and snatched the gray sweater out of Jessica’s hands. I had knitted that sweater for him, stitch by stitch, by his hospital bed when he was shot during an undercover operation. He held the sweater, his fingers lingering on the uneven stitching near the chest. Then, he threw it into the hallway trash can. The edge of the trash can caught a loose thread, pulling the fabric apart to reveal a faded paper amulet sewn inside. I had waited in line at a cathedral all night just to get that blessing for him. He had laughed at me back then, saying cops didn’t believe in superstitions. But then he had pulled me close and asked me to sew it into his favorite sweater so he wouldn’t lose it. He said he was afraid of losing his luck.

On the weekend, Sean took Jessica for her prenatal checkup. Driving past a local bakery, Jessica said she wanted a cheese bagel from the street vendor outside. Sean parked the car and went down to buy it himself. The bagel vendor was a limping old man who had once been helped by my father. As he packed the bagels, he looked up at Sean. “Detective Sterling, I haven’t seen you with Vivian in a long time.” Old Ben sighed. “She used to come here to learn how to bake these just for you. Her hands got blistered from the steam, but she kept going even while crying from the pain.” “That sweet girl loved you so much. Are you guys doing okay?” Sean’s hand froze mid-air as he reached for his wallet. His face darkened. “Ben, she’s gone. That’s in the past.” He slammed the cash on the counter, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t mention her to me again.” He grabbed the box and walked away without looking back. I sat on the roof of the car, watching the old man’s confused face. I looked down at my own ghostly right hand. There was indeed a deep scar from a burn on the back of it. Sean got back in the car and handed the bagels to Jessica. She took a bite and frowned. “Sean, this is so tough and dry.” Sean immediately took a napkin and wiped her mouth. “Spit it out if it’s bad. I’ll take you to the Rosewood for high tea.” He took the box of bagels and tossed them out of the window. Right then, his phone rang. It was the lead detective from the homicide squad. “Sean, we have a situation.” The voice on the line was frantic. “The harbor police were dredging the bay near Warehouse 3. They pulled up a metal drum sealed with concrete.” “There’s… there’s a skeleton inside.” Sean gripped the steering wheel, his voice flat. “It’s just a mob dumping. Let forensics handle it.” The detective paused. “Sean, the preliminary report says the victim is female. Her neck bones were crushed by a thin wire.” “It matches Ghost’s confession… perfectly.” The car fell into a suffocating silence. Jessica clenched her fists, her hand slowly covering Sean’s knuckles. “Sean, what’s wrong? I heard something about a warehouse on the phone?” Her voice trembled slightly. “Is it about Ghost? He’s just lying to cause trouble, right? He isn’t making things hard for you, is he?” Sean turned his head, his gaze landing heavily on her face. The fleeting suspicion in his eyes made Jessica’s heart skip a beat. But he quickly looked away and squeezed her hand. “It’s nothing. Just a minor case. It’s already handled.” He started the engine and drove toward the Rosewood Hotel. “Nothing is more important than you and the baby.” I sat in the back seat, watching his tight jaw and the darkness behind his eyes. He said it wasn’t important, but his foot pressed harder and harder on the gas pedal.

The recovery site was sealed off with yellow police tape. In the end, Sean still came. He had left Jessica at the hotel, making an excuse about urgent paperwork at the precinct. He stood outside the yellow tape, lighting a cigarette, watching the officers use a circular saw to cut open the metal drum. Dr. Evans, the medical examiner, walked over and took off his gloves. His face was pale. “Sean, we have the preliminary findings.” “Female, late twenties.” “Cause of death was ligature strangulation with a thin wire, causing cervical fracture and asphyxiation.” Sean flicked the ashes off his cigarette, his tone still seemingly detached. “A body dumped in the bay? Just check the recent gang wars.” He turned to leave. “Sean, there are some unique skeletal features,” Dr. Evans called out. “She had three broken ribs and a old penetrating wound on her right wrist that damaged the nerve.” The cigarette slipped from Sean’s fingers. It fell onto his hand, burning his skin, but he didn’t even flinch. A wrist wound. Three years ago, during an internal mob dispute, someone had lunged at him with a knife. I had blocked the blade with my bare right hand. Sean slowly turned around, his eyes blown wide, though his voice remained defensive. “A lot of women have injured wrists. That doesn’t prove anything.” Dr. Evans sighed and pulled two evidence bags from his kit. He handed the smaller one to Sean first. “We found this on her right ring finger.” Sean’s gaze drifted down. Inside the plastic bag was a tarnished, blackened silver ring. On the inside of the band, the name “Sean” was crudely engraved—something he had carved himself while drunk years ago. Sean stared at the ring, his breath catching in his throat. He reached out to take it, but his fingers shook so violently he couldn’t grasp it. Seeing his pale face, Dr. Evans pushed the second bag into his trembling hands. “Also, we found this in her pelvic cavity.” Inside the bag was a cluster of tiny, fragile bones. “Based on the bone development, it was a fetus. About seven months old.” Seven months. I remembered the seven drops of blood that had dripped from his hand when he broke the glass. “This is impossible…” Sean’s voice was barely a whisper. “Vivian was greedy… she ran… how could she…” He suddenly looked up at Dr. Evans, his eyes bloodshot. “This must be a setup by Ghost! He found a matching body!” “Run a DNA test! Right now! Use her family’s DNA from the database!” He screamed, turned, and stumbled over a rock. He scrambled up and fled like a terrified animal.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “441575”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

After giving blood to Mason’s adoptive sister for the three-hundredth time, they still didn’t let me go. That day, they dragged me to the hound yard. Opposite me was the giant black mastiff I feared the most. “If you survive this, we’ll let you reunite with your parents.” The next second, the dog, hyped up on some drug, lunged at me. With nowhere to hide, I could only let the beast tear into my flesh. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, Mason showed up. He ordered his men to beat the dog back, looking down at me with pure disgust. “Have you learned your lesson yet? Apologize to Windsor, and I promise we’ll get married right away.” In his arms, Windsor’s eyes filled with tears at his words. “Angel, I don’t blame you.” I stayed completely silent. My silence pushed Mason over the edge. “If it weren’t for you, Windsor wouldn’t have been assaulted by those thugs! She wouldn’t have ended up infertile, and she wouldn’t need constant blood transfusions!” “And now, you won’t even give her a simple apology?” “I guess you really don’t want your parents to live much longer, do you?” If this were in the past, I would have dropped to my knees and begged him. But now, there was no need. Because an hour ago, my parents had already died.

“Look at her, acting all tough. Mason, looks like your scare tactics aren’t working anymore. Angel doesn’t even care.” The mocking laughter from Mason’s friends made him frown. “Angel, did you lose your tongue?” Everyone could feel his growing anger. To suck up to him, one of his friends threw a glass bottle straight at me. The heavy glass shattered against my forehead. Instantly, I smelled the copper tang of my own blood. In the next second, Mason jumped down into the yard, suddenly looking panicked. “What happened?” Meeting his worried eyes, I felt a brief moment of daze. Did he actually care about me? But then, a cold sneer appeared on Mason’s face. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m only worried you’ll bleed out. If you die, who’s going to give Windsor her transfusion today?” So that was it. I was just being pathetic again. Ever since Windsor’s assault three years ago, I had been labeled the villain. Everyone said, “It was Angel. She thought Mason was sleeping with Windsor, so she hired those men to ruin her.” Mason didn’t even ask. He just believed it. Since then, they had subjected me to endless torture. Whenever Windsor needed blood, I had to drain myself. If I hesitated even a little, they would target my parents. My parents’ health was already failing. After years of Mason’s harassment, they were at their breaking point. Before they dragged me here today, the hospital had called me. “Miss Angel, you should start preparing for your parents’ funerals.” That phone call felt like a lightning strike. All my years of silent suffering felt entirely pointless. And an hour ago, Mason’s men brought my parents to the hound yard. They said they wanted my parents to watch me fight the black mastiff. In that moment, I had begged them. “Please, no. My parents are too old. Their hearts can’t take this. Please, don’t do this.” When I knelt and begged, I saw a flash of panic in Mason’s eyes. But it didn’t stop them. My parents were still forced to watch. When they saw me being pushed toward the raging dog, they smiled at me. Their smiles were so pale, so final. It was their last goodbye to me. The next second, they took their own lives right in front of me.

“Angel, can’t you just behave for once? Think about your parents…” Mason’s voice pulled me back to reality. I stared at him, my voice completely flat and hollow. “There’s no need, Mason. If you want me dead so badly, I’ll just die.” I turned and walked straight toward the black dog. Everyone in the yard gasped in shock. But I didn’t die. Mason grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “You’d go this far just to avoid saving Windsor? You think this threat works on me?” “Let me tell you, if you dare to die, I’ll make sure your parents die first!” Faced with his threat, I said softly, “My parents are already dead.” “Angel, how can you be so evil? Just to get out of giving me blood, you’re actually cursing your own parents?” Windsor looked at me with a heartbroken expression. Her words instantly turned Mason’s brief panic into absolute rage. “Angel, I really underestimated how vile you are.” “Fine. You want to see your parents die? I’ll make it happen.” Mason gritted his teeth and dialed his assistant’s number on speakerphone. “Cut off all medical treatments for Angel’s parents right now. Inform the hospital that no one is allowed to sell them VIP life-support medication.” On the other end of the line, the assistant hesitated. “But, Mr. Bryant, about that…” “What? Did Angel buy you off too?” Mason snapped, cutting him off. I knew why the assistant was hesitating. He wanted to tell Mason that my parents were already dead. But with Mason’s paranoid temper, the assistant didn’t dare to say another word. So, after Mason hung up, the assistant immediately sent me a message on Snapchat. [Miss Angel, does Mr. Bryant really not know that your parents passed away?] How hilarious. He was Mason’s top assistant, yet he was asking me—the family’s “human blood bag”—for details. If I actually mattered to Mason, would I have been tortured like this? Hanging up the phone, Mason smirked at me. “Still want to play tough?” “Mason, let’s get a divorce.” “Angel, you’re getting bold. Now you’re trying to threaten me with divorce?” “You think a divorce absolves you of your sins?” “I’m telling you, you owe Windsor. You can’t pay that debt back even if you spend the rest of your life trying.” Mason grabbed my collar tightly, his eyes looking like he wanted to tear me apart. But I only repeated quietly, “I told you, it wasn’t me.” I had said those words a thousand times over the years. From screaming it hysterically in the beginning, to now speaking it with absolute indifference. “Angel, if it wasn’t you, are you saying I staged my own assault?” Windsor stood there, looking as fragile as a leaf in the wind. Her single sentence fueled Mason’s hatred for me even more. Even though Windsor didn’t actually need a transfusion today, Mason still ordered his men to drain 800cc of my blood. Already physically exhausted, my vision went dark, and I collapsed. Before I blacked out, I was still pleading with him. “Help… my parents…” I wanted to tell him that my parents’ bodies were still lying outside the hound yard. I didn’t want them to be left out there like trash. But Mason thought I was begging him to resume their medical care. He just sneered. “When you sincerely apologize to Windsor, that’s when I’ll let your parents back into the hospital.”

When I opened my eyes, I was back at the Bryant mansion. A maid saw me waking up and spared me a cold glance. “You’re awake?” I shook my pounding head and struggled out of bed. I had to go back to the hound yard to find my parents. But the maid blocked my way. “Mr. Bryant said we’re celebrating Windsor’s big win at the National Design Awards tonight. You are to prepare the dinner.” “I have to go.” I tried to push past her, but she grabbed my arm tightly. “Can you stop making trouble for everyone?” “If you run off, Mr. Bryant will skin me alive!” Looking at the maid’s frustrated and resentful face, I lost my voice. She wasn’t lying. Once, when I refused to give blood to Windsor, everyone in the mansion’s staff got punished because of me. Even though they treated me poorly, I didn’t want to drag innocent people down anymore. So, I forced myself to stay calm. “I’ll talk to Mason myself.” With that, I walked downstairs. As soon as I reached the living room, I saw Mason’s sister, Natasha. She was presenting a gift to Windsor. “Windsor, I still think you’re the perfect match for Mason. Once you marry him, we’ll finally be a real family.” “Oh, don’t say that, Natasha. If Angel hears you, she’ll think I’m trying to steal her husband!” “Her? She’s not even worthy of wiping Mason’s shoes.” Natasha rolled her eyes dramatically. Then, she spotted me. Her sneer grew wider. “Oh, look who’s still breathing. Fainting after just 800cc? How pathetic.” “Why didn’t you just play dead? Maybe Mason would have felt a tiny bit of pity for you.” I ignored Natasha and looked around, but Mason wasn’t there. “Are you looking for Mason?” Windsor asked gently. When I didn’t deny it, she continued: “He went out to pick up a special gift for me. If you need something, you can tell me. I’ll pass it along.” Since Mason wasn’t here, nobody could stop me from leaving. I turned to walk out of the villa. But Natasha wasn’t done with me. She followed me out to the driveway. “Angel, if I were you, I would have signed the divorce papers ages ago. Isn’t it exhausting clinging to a man who hates you?” Hearing this, I couldn’t help but laugh. Since the day Mason forced me to become Windsor’s blood donor, I had brought up divorce countless times. But every single time, Mason would explode in rage, shouting, “In your dreams!” At first, I foolishly thought he couldn’t let me go because he still loved me. Later, I realized he just didn’t want to lose his leverage over me. “What are you laughing at?” Natasha snapped. “If you’re so eager, go convince Mason to sign the papers. Otherwise, stay out of my way.” I gave Natasha a freezing glare and walked away. Before, I tolerated their abuse because of my parents. But now, I had nothing left to lose. As I walked down the street, I could still hear Natasha screaming curses behind me. “Fine! Go ahead and act tough! Let’s see if you come crawling back to beg the Bryant family when your parents are dying!” I took one last look at the Bryant estate and whispered, “Never again.” I rushed back to the hound yard. But no matter where I searched, my parents’ bodies were gone. I found the manager of the yard. The moment I mentioned the bodies, his face went completely pale. “Don’t talk nonsense! We don’t have any dead bodies here!” They blocked me from searching further. Left with no choice, I called the police. Once the flashing police lights arrived, the owner of the yard finally panicked and let us view the security footage. When I saw my parents’ bodies being thrown into the industrial meat grinder used for dog food, my entire world shattered. “Why?! Why would you do that to them?!” I screamed, completely losing my mind. With the police standing right there, the owner was terrified. He dragged the employee in charge of the grinder over to face us. The young kid had never seen police officers before. He was so scared he was shaking.

“I… a woman gave me a stack of cash! She told me to get rid of those two heavy bags!” “I didn’t know! I swear to God, I didn’t know there were people inside!” The boy was crying so hard he practically wet his pants. With trembling hands, I pulled out a photo of Windsor from my phone. “Was it her?” “Yes! Yes, that’s her!” “I want to file charges!” I sobbed, barely able to breathe. “They killed my parents, and they destroyed their remains!” This was a heinous criminal offense. The police immediately took action. They took the boy to the station for questioning, while I led a group of officers back to Mason’s villa. When we arrived, Mason was holding a beautiful velvet box. He was carefully lifting a stunning necklace out of the box and fastening it around Windsor’s neck. The moment I saw that necklace, I lost all control. I lunged onto the stage like a madwoman. “Give that back to me!” My parents weren’t wealthy, but my mother’s best friend was Blair, the world-renowned fashion designer. This necklace was a one-of-a-kind piece Blair had custom-made and gifted to my mother. It symbolized peace and protection. Before my mother passed, when she knew she couldn’t protect me anymore, she gave it to me. She said, “I hope you have a peaceful life, my sweet girl.” No one else knew its value, but Mason knew exactly how much it meant to me. My wild appearance startled Mason. But before he could say anything, Windsor shrieked and collapsed to the floor. “Oh, Angel… why do you hate seeing me happy so much?” Seeing Windsor crying on the floor, Mason’s protective instincts kicked in. He grabbed my throat and slammed me down. “Angel, do you want to die?” Then, he threw me ruthlessly down the stairs of the stage. The police officers quickly ran over to help me up. “Are you okay, ma’am?” They glared at Mason with deep disapproval. Windsor pointed at the officers, acting shocked and disappointed. “Angel, what is this?” “Just to ruin my celebration dinner, you actually hired actors to pretend to be cops?” Windsor’s words made Mason finally notice the uniforms. Even though the officers immediately showed their badges, Mason chose to believe Windsor without hesitation. “Angel, you’ve gone too far this time.” Mason gave me a disgust-filled look before turning to the officers. “How much did she pay you to pull this sick stunt? Do you know that impersonating police officers is a federal crime?” Mason turned to his assistant. “Call the actual police.” The assistant pulled out his phone to make the call. Seeing how absurd this was getting, the lead officer spoke up in a booming voice, “We *are* the actual police.” Then, under Mason’s stunned gaze, the officer looked directly at Windsor. “Are you Windsor Bryant?” “I… Yes. What do you want?” “You are under arrest for the illegal disposal of human remains. Please come with us to the precinct.” “What?!” Mason gasped. It was the first time I had ever seen such a look of pure shock and confusion on his face. Windsor began shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “No, that’s not true! I didn’t do anything!” “Mason, it’s Angel! She’s framing me! She set this up!” “Angel…” “Mason,” I interrupted, my voice dead and cold. “My parents died because of you. Wasn’t that enough?” “Did you have to order her to feed them to the dogs too?” “What did you say?” Mason stumbled back, nearly losing his footing. His assistant had to catch him. Mason turned his head slowly to his assistant, his voice trembling. “What did she just say?” The assistant swallowed hard. “Sir… Her parents are dead.” The room went dead silent. Mason’s face drained of all color. He began to mumble incoherently. “That’s impossible… how? I only cut off their VIP treatment…” “It’s only been a few hours. How could they be dead?” “Angel, are you still trying to play mind games with me?” Windsor shrieked, panic taking over. “You say your parents are dead, and you have these fake cops accuse me of destroying their bodies? Where is your proof?!” I didn’t bother answering her. The police officer simply pulled out an arrest warrant and a tablet showing the evidence. “Miss Windsor, we wouldn’t be here executing an arrest warrant if we didn’t have solid proof.” Hearing the officer’s firm words, Mason turned to Windsor, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Is this true, Windsor?” “No! No, Mason, you have to believe me!” Windsor sobbed hysterically. Then, as if a lightbulb went off, she pointed at me. “I know…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “441576”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster